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The Mountain pastor

Material Information

Title:
The Mountain pastor
Creator:
Lynch, Henry, 1812-1885 ( Author, Primary )
Varty, E
Darton & Co ( Publisher )
Lynch, Theodora Elizabeth, 1812-1885
Place of Publication:
London
Publisher:
Darton & Co.
Manufacturer:
E. Varty
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
xiii, 214, 1 p., 2 leaves of plates : ill. ; 18 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Christianity -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Missionaries -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Children -- Death -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Juvenile fiction -- Jamaica ( lcsh )
Publishers' advertisements -- 1852 ( rbgenr )
Pictorial cloth bindings (Binding) -- 1852 ( rbbin )
Bldn -- 1852
Genre:
Publishers' advertisements ( rbgenr )
Pictorial cloth bindings (Binding) ( rbbin )
novel ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
England -- London
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

General Note:
Added engraved t.p.
General Note:
Publisher's advertisement follows text: <1> p., "Works by the same author".
Funding:
Brittle Books Program
Statement of Responsibility:
by Mrs. Henry Lynch.

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University of Florida
Holding Location:
University of Florida
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This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
026854975 ( ALEPH )
45805616 ( OCLC )
ALH3804 ( NOTIS )

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Full Text









LON DON :

DARTON & C9 HOLBORN HILL .







THE

MOUNTAIN PASTOR.

BY MRS. HENRY LYNCH,

AUTHOR OF “MAUDE EFFINGHAM,” ‘THE FAMILY SEPULCHRE,”
&e. &e.

veenvâ„¢



vwwewevev—ev

‘“‘ The strength of the hills is His also.”—PsaLM xcv.

PPAR ALLOIIIVIO

LONDON:
PUBLISHED FOR THE AUTHOR BY

DARTON & CO, HOLBORN HILL.

1852.







YO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE
DOWAGER COUNTESS OF SHAFTESBURY,
THIS LITTLE VOLUME

IS BY PERMISSION INSCRIBED,

AS A SMALL TOKEN

OF SINCERE RESPECT, BY

THE AUTHOR.

BR 2



oT aoe

Wee Pt





PREFACE.

BY THE LORD BISHOP OF JAMAICA.

Art the request of an authoress, not altogether un-
known to the literary and religious portion of the
community, I am about to write a few lines as
prefatory to the little volume which is, at the ap-
proaching season fraught with so many holy asso-
ciations, submitted to the intelligence of a discerning
public.

Of the domestic occurrences in the magnificent
but stricken island which constitutes the principal
portion of my extensive and distant diocese, little
has been known or inquired into by the mother
country.

The shattered fortunes, severed ties, the ruined

households, and the broken hearts which have,
b



PREFACE.

under God’s inscrutable counsels, been coincident
with one of the noblest and most consequential acts
that Christianity and philanthropy ever dictated,
have passed with little record or observation,
beyond the land which they have immediately
affected.

And yet to those who love to trace the hand of a
guiding and protecting God over the humblest and
most depressed of his creation—to those who delight
to read the vindication of his unsleeping mercy in
the history of families and individuals, on whom
fear and sudden desolation have come, with all the
fearful vicissitudes incidental to a tropical climate,
and the transient state of our West Indian popu-
lations; these records of the ‘‘ Mountain Pastor”
can scarcely fail to convey a vivid and edifying
interest.

Of the sustaining power of that holy religion
which it is the main design of the following pages
to instil and illustrate, the amiable and bereaved
lady to whom I have adverted, is herself a striking

example.



PREFACE.

Amid sorrows of a complicated nature, and cala-
mities of more than ordinary aggravation, she has
been enabled by Divine assistance to realize the
consolations which nothing but the Gospel of Christ
can afford, and to ascertain by painful experience,
that a Father of the fatherless, a Judge of the
widow, is God in his holy habitation.

The results of this experience and the lesson
which it teaches, are bodied forth in all the appa-
rent truthfulness of deed and of reality, in the fol-
lowing pages.

That these may be sanctified to the author’s own
temporal and eternal benefit, and to that of the
readers to whom they are commended, is the part-
ing prayer of one, who is now on the eve of embark-
ation on his return to the scenes which the authoress
has beautifully delineated, and to his share in the
labours which she has so feelingly described.

Avuprey G. JAMAICA.

107, Guoster Terrace, Hype Park.

lst November, 1851.



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Sutraductory Letter.

i cuneneetentnmenennectenel

ComE away, dear young friends, come away from
busy, exciting London—its crowded streets, and
stately squares; turn your backs on the Crystal
Palace, that stands in itself a wonder, holding in its
arms of glass the marvellous works of art; turn from
the multitude, which can with difficulty be numbered,
as they stand looking on the power, that God has
given unto man: bid farewell to all this—and for
what purpose? to cross the trackless ocean, and to
search with me in a far distant island of the West
for the home of the Mountain Pastor. .

Up and away then into the highlands of the tropics.
The road is steep, and can only be ascended on horse-

back or on foot. The mountains, that, at a distance,
B 3



vi INTRODUCTORY LETTER.

seemed robed in purple, now wear the green dress of
the forest. Magnificent cedars are clustering together,
and throwing their rich shadows on the narrow
pathway. Courage, and look boldly down the almost
perpendicular precipice. The rains have swollen the
river, which is rushing impetuously on; and ill
brooking any control, the slightest opposition causes
it to foam and fret.

Oh, how beautiful is that Queen-like flower. Itis
called the Mountain Pride; and no wonder. There
it stands, in regal loveliness, with its coronet of
purple feathers—and its gems are the emeralds of its
own green leaves. Thoughtlessly it flourishes on the
very borders of that dashing flood. Another moment,
it is gone, and, as the stream bears it onward to the
ocean, we have passing thoughts of the young and
the lovely, carried early to the fathomless sea, that
rolls beyond the boundaries of time.

That mighty river! It cleaves the mountains in
its strength, and sweeps away thousands of flowers
in its resistless course, as if conscious that their fra-

grance could add nothing to the splendour of its



INTRODUCTORY LETTER. Vil

stormy path; and the voice of those waters murmurs
of Fame; of the powerful intellect that, making its
way through difficulties, compels the world to admire,
but that unwisely throws from it, in the haughty
consciousness of superiority, the sweet breathings of
affection, the gentle ties of household love.

There are bright days in the very heart of England’s
smoke-darkened capital; days, when the sun, awaking
in a benevolent mood, throws something of his glad-
ness on every dreary alley and unhealthy lane;
when even the dark shadows of the dingy corner
give by contrast a greater glory to the sunbeam;
when from the very river banks the mist retreats
discomfited ;—days that do not follow each other in
bright succession, but that, few and far between, we
prize as the friendless prize sympathy, or paupers
gold.

But how can we describe the light and shadow of
Jamaica’s mountain scenery, where motion is beauty,
where loveliness consists in change—where sun-
beams and shadows, though of natures so opposite,

are sporting together. The dull universal fog of



Vill INTRODUCTORY LETTER.

England’s November is there utterly unknown; but
thick white clouds come rolling down the mountain
side, and stand tremblingly over the gigantic trees,
refreshing but scarcely darkening the foliage. Now
a beam is piercing that dim recess, and shadow is on
the rock which, a little while ago, was radiant with
light. The sportive sun-rays seem determined to
convince us that they would lose their beauty if un-
associated with darkness, and we know that the
loveliness of the Christian character is never more
conspicuous than in the cloudy day of sorrow. This
was a remark of the Mountain Pastor’s.

Once more, then, up and away. Look at that tiny
stream, stealing almost noiselessly, with silvery foot-
steps, from the wooded height. Now we lose sight
of it, but we know its way by the fresh verdure in
its track—by the flowers that cluster on its very
course. Its bed is of ferns: soft and beautiful, they
try to lure the streamlet to rest amongst them; and
we are reminded of gentle spirits of whom the world
speaks not, whose brows the laurel chaplet has never

circled, but whose glad bright looks of love give



INTRODUCTORY LETTER. 1x

home its sweetest influence; whose names ambition
has never heard, but the drooping head is raised as
they pass, and the mourner’s eye glistens through its
tears at the whispered accents of consolation.

Now, dear friends, onward again, and higher,
higher into the thrilling silence of those lofty moun-
tains—on again

“‘ To see a beauty in the stirring leaf,
And find calm thoughts’ beneath the whispering trees.”’

But what trees? the delicate lilac and drooping
laburnum? Not so; this wild forest land owns no
such children. There are the feathery bamboo and
the majestic yacca; the magnificent cedar, and the
gigantic cotton tree. How intense is the silence—
how profound the solitude! Eternity seems stamped
on all—magnificence—God! ‘The strength of the
hills is His!” Look down the tremendous steep
into that ravine—the river-course below. In His
hands are the deep places of the earth. Yes; who
but the Mighty One could support by an invisible
hand those stupendous trees as they bend from their



x INTRODUCTORY LETTER.

dizzy height over the steep chasm. Here and
there are patches of rock-land, almost void of
foliage, and yet on these very spots delicately-tinted
flowers unfold their leaves, and are to that sterile
ground as bright smiles and kindly words to the
desolate.

Onwards again, and higher. Turn and look down
on the great swelling sea that seems to rise as it
spreads into the far horizon, covered with light as
with a garment, and the cloudless heaven stretched
out as a curtain above, declaring the glory of God.

Look back on the mountains. No snows ever
crown their summits. As well may the heart freeze
into indifference under the warm bright looks of
love, as frost find life beneath that tropic sun. * Yet
those fields of gleaming white, what are they? The
air is filled with a rich perfume. Look again.
We have arrived at some coffee plantations, and the
pure white blossoms clustering together make a field
of shining pearls. How delicately beautiful they
stand; no stain of dust is on them, for the mountain

rain has purified all within its influence. The dark



INTRODUCTORY LETTER. xl

ereen foliage presents a striking contrast to the
white flower; whilst underneath, the wild straw-
berries grow in myriads, lured into life and strength-
ened by the shelter of those glossy shrubs: and so
the wounded and shrinking spirit will rally and
revive under the sweet canopy of home !

But the Mountain Pastor’s dwelling ?>—

On, on, through the deep wood shades. Day
declines ; we know it by the crimson tints that dye
the dark Mahe trees, as their boughs wave grace-
fully in the cooler air; we know it by the golden
western light that the intertwining boughs cannot
shut out, and by the fragrance of the night-flower,
which the twilight in passing has awakened; we know
it by the rich blazonry on the silken palm tree, and
by the intense purple of the mountain shadows.

We are yet in time. In the very heart of this
world of solitude, with a halo of solemnity around
it, and an atmosphere of peace within, stands the
Rectory.

Come gently on. Twilight gives up her short



xil INTRODUCTORY LETTER.

reign, and night rapidly advances in all her jewellery
of stars.

We are not too late. There is a light in the
pleasant library, and already we feel the spell of
home.

Now we must introduce you to the good old man.
The silvery locks fall on his temples, but as spring
flowers rise up and bloom round the tree that has
looked on many winters, 80 grandchildren smile, a
lovely band, round the Mountain Pastor, and call
him blessed.

That servant of the Lord has had a long pil-
erimage ; but ask him, and he will tell you that he
has not been desolate ; ask him, and he will tell you
of a Comforter who has been with him—even the
Spirit of Truth, whom the world cannot receive.

The aged Pastor is now too feeble to engage in
any ministerial duties. Nobly in the might of his
Master he has borne the burden and heat of the day ;
and now that his strength is failing, still wishing to

be useful, he has evening meetings in his piazza, and



INTRODUCTORY LETTER. xiii

by relating some of the occurrences of his past life,
he endeavours to convince the young around him
that those only are blessed who serve the Lord ; that
godliness with contentment is great gain, having the
promise of the life that now is, as well as of that
which is to come.

We are not too late. We will take our seat by
that low window, and watch the land breeze sporting
with the thousands of wild roses on its path, and
stealing the fragrance from the starry jasmin. We
will listen to the Mountain Pastor as he relates his
recollections of the past, and connected with all that
is solemn and holy shall be our memories of the

Mountain Land of Jamaica



SORA ES

eae

Meeps reat

ts ae





THE MOUNTAIN PASTOR.



CHAPTER I.

Remembrances of Childhood.



I am a native of Jamaica, and was not sent to
England for school education till I was twelve years
of age; but I had a very worthy gentleman as tutor,
and I can never forget his patient efforts to make his
instructions easy, nor his forbearance with my whims
and petulances, for I must own that I was, in some
measure, a spoiled child.

Our general residence was in the lowlands, at a
long flat house near the sea. I have at this moment
clearly before me the interior of that mansion. There
is our sitting-room—I mean the room appropriated
to my tutor and myself. One window looks towards

c 2



2 REMEMBRANCES OF

the mountains, over which the silvery mist is steal-
ing as evening approaches, making them look more
distant but more beautiful than ever. The bats
begin their gambols in the twilight, and the mos-
quitoes their low dirge. Now the sky is gorgeously
red, and I look away to watch my pigeons, which are
soaring farther than ever, over the waste of cashaw
trees, yet regularly returning, as if spell-bound
by the sight of home; and when I look at the
western heaven again, the red has vanished, all is
dim and sombre. I learned in after life that many
bright things fade thus quickly. Then the stars
peep out, at first timidly, but as if gathering courage
from the sight of each other, they grow bold and
brilliant ; and 1 have learnt since, blessed be God,
that there is light for the darkest hour, if we but
seck it, that comfort 1s promised in the heaviest
affliction.

But I was telling you of the little room. There
was a low couch covered with blue damask, and at
‘ts side a small ottoman in the same dress. A
mahogany table, with deep drawers, and some stains
of ink on its surface, stood almost in the centre of
the room. Immediately above the couch was @
small bookcase: this contained all Mr. Maple’s
books. There were two broad shelves between the
windows that faced the west, and there lay, not



CHILDHOOD. 3

always as orderly as they should — my school
books, slates, &c.

How distinctly at this moment I see it all before
me. The door towards the balcony is always open.
I am so accustomed to the measured, melancholy
chime of the waves, that my whispered lessons keep
exact time to their voice of ‘waters. Now Mr. Maple
is lying on the sofa, with his dark blue. morocco
covered Pocket Bible in his hands. Sometimes he
sighs deeply, and then again his whole face is illu-
minated with a smile, which, even then I know, is
not kindled by any earthly joy. He is in communion
with the Father of Spirits, and I walk gently to the
window, through which a bold orange tree is peep-
ing—the land breeze has awakened all its fragrance.
I play with the snowy blossoms till I am lost in
thought. I wonder if my Aunt Davis is a Christian,
and if she is, why she is in every respect so different
from my tutor, for I have discovered something in
him that speaks without language, and I can as
easily tell that he is a servant of God, as, blindfolded,
I should know that an orange tree is before me from
its fragrance.

But I have other memories of that old house.
There is the hall, or large sitting-room, with its
high-backed uncomfortable sofa, nothing like owrs.
The windows with their dark framework of maho-

c 3



4 REMEMBRANCES OF

gany, and the heavy doors looking as if they required
the united strength of the family to open them.
There was the unceiled roof; and the walls, which
went no farther than they could go in an upright
position, seemed to be giving us all a lesson to stop
in the plans we were pursuing, if we found that by
continuing in any of them we should be compelled to
act crookedly. The sideboard which has long been
stationed at the end of this general sitting-room,
with its ugly black faces, the large nose-rings in
which constitute the handles of the drawers.

It is early morning. Rutland, the boy groom,
brings our horses to the door; my pony Dapper is
impatient for its little master, and frolics and paws
till we set off. Mr. Maple always begins the day
with a cheering word of kindness, and these are as
dew to the youthful spirit. Off we go, cantering
pleasantly down to the sea-shore. I had very
seriously offended my Aunt Davis the evening
before; she had actually left the room in indigna-
tion, muttering something about the inconsistency of
those who professed to be Christians not keeping
children under proper control, and I thought she
looked at Mr. Maple when she said this, and I thought
he colored, but I am sure he must have had good
reasons for not interfering in this matter. My
aunt’s religion had ever seemed to me something not



CHILDHOOD. 5

real; it was the imitation dress, looking very like
that which it copies to a careless eye, but quite
unable to stand the wear and tear of temptation, or
the waters of trial, should they roll over it. And
this said dress never appeared to greater disadvan-
tage than when, as on the present occasion, it came
in contact with the mantle of humility which Mr.
Maple ever wore. Aunt Davis has an assured man-
ner, aud the very position of her head, though she
may be silent, seems to tell you that whatever may
be the failings of her associates, she cannot be very
far in the wrong.

Young as I am, I can discover this, and I take a
delight in teazing her.

Had Mr. Maple, on the morning of which I speak,
angrily commanded me to apologize to my aunt, I
think I should stubbornly have opposed his direc-
tions. But to resist Mr. Maple was impossible.
He had a way of winding himself round your affec-
tions, and such a convincing power in argument,
which, however, was always maintained with the
greatest gentleness, that you were borne on to his
way of thinking by the current of his remonstrances,
forcibly, yet almost imperceptibly. J have never
since, on life’s journey, met with any one exactly
like him, and I do not think this was merely a
childish estimate of his character.



6 REMEMBRANCES OF

Long before the ride is over, I am anxious to be
reconciled to my aunt. Immediately on my return
home I fly to her bedroom, and seck her forgiveness ;
she speaks kindly, says something about her willing-
ness to endure, and then bids me call Bunchy to
get her chocolate, with its accompaniment of salt
fish, for aunt Davis always breakfasts in her room.
I think I see her now, with her thick cap, round
which a handkerchief is tied after the manner of the
negroes, her full petticoat, and her short white dress-
ing-gown, for you must recollect I am speaking of
many years ago. She was much older than my
mother, and, according to her own account, every-
thing had gone wrong with her from the commence-
ment of her pilgrimage. She had married, but had
been long separated from her husband, and though
my dear mother always carefully avoided any allusion
to my uncle, yet I often heard aunt Davis giving
admonitions to my pretty cousin Annie to remain in
single happiness.

Sometimes Annie would look archly at her, at
other times she would blush so painfully that I have .
playfully covered her face with her own little black
apron. What a sunbeam that dear girl was to us
all. Iam sure that aunt Davis found happiness in
the effort to be unhappy, or rather, I should say, it
was a great source of consolation to her if she suc-



CHILDHOOD. 7

ceeded in impressing any one with the idea that she
endured a sort of domestic martyrdom, and was un-
fortunately out of the station it would so have suited
her to fill. She was thoroughly uncomfortable when
all went on smoothly. She would begin the day by
complaining to my mother that the household
arrangements did not suit her. “If I managed
these things, Mary,’’ she would say, ‘all would be
right.” And when my poor mother, in creole list-
lessness, would answer, ‘ Well, Dinah, you are
quite at liberty to do so,” my aunt would assume
the air of no. ordinary sufferer, and reply, ‘ No,
sister; it is not my house; Jam not mistress—only
a visitor!” as if it were my mother’s fault that such
were the case, and then she would swing her foot
vehemently, in that peculiar way which only West
Indians can understand, and wipe her eyes, (in which
I Well remember there were no tears at all) with a
white cambric pocket handkerchief.

My poor aunt was only truly sad when she could
find no listeners. I have known her tell a half-
civilized African, who scarcely understood a word of
English, a whole tale of grievances. I think the
sound of her own voice must at such times have
been soothing to her, for even when she was walking
alone in the piazza, I have caught the dissatisfied



8 REMEMBRANCES OF ee

tone, and heard the murmur, ‘“ Not mistress, only
visitor,” &c.

I cannot say my mother was idle, for she was
continually plying her needle. How could she
always find employment! There was an oval
basket full of stockings ever at her side; these, half
reclining on the uncomfortable couch, she would go
on darn, darn, darn, for hours. Once, when T asked
her what she thought of whilst thus employed?
‘¢ Literally nothing, sometimes,” she answered; and
then I was lost in contemplation, trying to discover
if the mind could ever be unemployed.

This would have been a monotonous life for me,
had it not been for Mr. Maple and dear, laughter-
loving Annie, who continually spent a week or a
fortnight with us.

My Father I could not remember. He died when
I was an infant, and it was 4 heavenly hand that
led Mr. Maple to be my tutor. With him it was
line upon line, and precept upon precept, here a
little and there a little. The morning ride, the
evening drive, all were made lessons by him to lead
my young heart to sts Creator. I knew, child as I
was, that there were times when Mr. Maple loved
his Redeemer with joy unspeakable. I well knew
that, though many deridingly called him “ saint,”



CHILDHOOD. 9

mistaking, or rather trying to make others believe
that they mistook his calm and quiet manner for
hypocrisy, that all was read with him, and, though
apparently so thoughtless, I had discovered that
peace such as the world giveth not was his portion.

Children think much more than we imagine, and
very often when I sat with my Latin Grammar in
my hand, I was clearly tracing to myself the diffe-
rence between the reality of religion and its pro-
fession, and though I whispered the grammatical
examples to myself, in exact measure with the
chiming waves, the living examples of my theory
were Mr. Maple and aunt Davis.

I remember well a sharp attack of fever that I
had. My dear, dear, mother! All her languor and
listlessness forsook her, and she was immediately
transformed into the unwearying, gentle, yet active
nurse. The dingy room opens on the back piazza;
the large four-posted bedstead, in which I seem
small indeed; the high-backed dimity-covered chair,
- where my mother sits, with her anxious sorrowful
face. My cheeks are burning, my lips are parched,
I hear the hurried beating of my heart, the doctor
looks grave; I cannot lie in any position comfortably,
every part of my body is in pain. Then dreams
come—half-waking dreams: there is danger, and
my great desire is to have Mr. Maple near me. Do



10 REMEMBRANCES OF

I dream it, or does he tell me, there is One greater
than he, able and willing to save to the uttermost all
who come unto God through him. I try to look
away from my fears to Jesus, and calmer visions steal
over me, and again I fancy my dear tutor gently
says, ‘I will strengthen thee, yea, I will help thee,
yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my
righteousness.”

I think I must have slept for more than a day,
for when I opened my eyes the grey light of morning
was stealing into the room. My mother had fallen
asleep at my side; she was still holding the large
Spanish fan with which she had been endeavouring
to keep the mosquitoes from me, and, with the
deepening light, I saw that traces of tears were on
her pale cheeks.

I must have been a child of a contemplative turn
of mind, for even then I was musing on the depths
of a mother’s love. Why had aunt Davis gone
calmly to bed? why was my old nurse sleeping
comfortably in her corner, whilst my mother had
evidently not taken off her dress for many days?
And even then my childish heart made answer,
“There is in all this cold and hollow world no fount
of love so deep as that which springs within a
mother’s heart.’

The light seemed very slow in coming that morn-



CHILDHOOD. 11

ing; it could not be weary, for my young thoughts
had given it a night of rest. I could just see, as I
lay, the mountain tops in the distance, and there the
lazy dawn seemed to linger, dressing their summits
in all sorts of grotesque shadows. At length a sud-
den beam of golden light flares on the old-fashioned
mirror, till it seems on flame ; then, as if in a merry
mood, the laughing sunbeam settles for a moment on
the earrings of my sleeping nurse, the next instant
it was coiling round the half-empty medicine bottles,
transforming a dingy looking mixture into a bright
rose-coloured draught. How long I should have
watched its gambols I know not, but just at that mo-
ment my mother (awakened by the negroes who were
passing under our windows on their way to work,
merrily singing wild snatches of African song) hastened
to give me some nourishment. I think I must have
slept again, for the next thing I remember is a
strong sensation of hunger, and the chicken and
jelly of which by turns I ravenously partook. Mr.
Maple prays with me, and in that solemn thanks-
giving I feel that my mother is earnestly joining. I
had never seen her so moved before, and during that
day, whilst I was lying with my eyes shut, I was
much struck by the humble way in which she
applied to Mr. Maple for instruction concerning
some passages from my old brown Bible, which she
D



12 REMEMBRANCES OF

had been attentively reading. I could not, at that
time, have put my thoughts in words, but I am sure
I was reflecting in my childish way, how anxiety
and trial were used as messengers to bring us to
God.

My memory presents very faithfully to me aunt
Davis, as she walks in and out of my room, taking
up the watch and putting it down again, opening
the Venetians and closing them rapidly when she
found how painfully the sudden light affected me ;
beginning many sentences and leaving all unfinished ;
giving orders to the nurse in a clear loud whisper,
you might have heard at the other end of the house,
and which orders my nurse knew, from long expe-
rience, it would be useless to tell her had been
before given by my mother. Poor aunt Davis!
Then she bustles out of the room, with a startling
“Hush!” to the girl who is very quietly and lazily
rubbing the floor, convinced, I am quite certain,
that her excessive vigilance, and the quiet she has
kept in the establishment, although she is not mis-
tress, but only a visitor, has preserved my life. I
know, by all these signs, that I must be progressing
in health, for I will do my aunt the justice to say,
that whilst I was considered in any danger, real
concern for me kept her in the background. I think,
however, that she comes forward now with increased



CHILDHOOD. 13

energy, refreshed and strengthened by the relaxation
she has had. ‘‘ Mary,” she says, as she makes the
sixth forenoon entry into my devoted bedchamber,
“Tf I were you, I would do what Dr. Parry advised,
and write on the slate all the medicines that were to
be given.” ‘Charlie is only taking bark at pre-
sent,” replies my mother, with a great effort at
composure.

I always fancied my aunt breathed louder than
any one else, and as she places her hand heavily on
my forehead I feign sleep, and would have persevered
in this deception had I not been forced to open my
eyes by the sudden gripe she gives my wrist as she
proceeds to feel my pulse. ,

“Mamma,” I said, restlessly and pettishly, for I
was beginning to be weary of the confinement of
that dark chamber, ‘‘ Mamma, may I have my
paint-box if I am better to-morrow ”’

I cannot forget the expression of my aunt’s face
when I made this request. It was angry, and
solemn, and disdainful. ‘You are still on the
very threshold of eternity,” she said, and I fancied
she anxiously looked for some expression of alarm on
my countenance, and that being disappointed, she
went on more gently to add, “ and it grieves me to
find that your mind still runs on trifles such as these.
There is inflammation about you at this moment.

p 2



14 REMEMBRANCES OF

Indeed, Mary,” she continued, turning to my mother,
“he must not have bark.”’ And all this conversation
was carried on with a rapidity of which none but
those who knew aunt Davis could form any idea.
She spoke of my attack of fever as her sorrow, her
affliction ; my mother’s uneasiness, my own discomfort,
never once came into the mental calculation in which
self was always prominent. ‘These trials are for my
good,” she would say. ‘‘ We cannot expect to go
on smoothly in this world;” and she certainly was
a striking exemplification of her own assertion, for
she trampled down fee flowers on her path, and then
murmured that her way was cheerless. I have
never been able to find out why she was always in
such distress. I remember on this occasion, when
my mother persisted in giving me the bark, which
she affirmed to be really necessary, the conversation
ended by my aunt assuring me, that she was not fhe
mistress of the house, only a visitor, and when she
left the room her cough had the peculiar tone which
I knew meant ‘‘ Never mind; I can bear it!”
“Mamma,” I said, as my aunt’s murmurings grew
faint in the distant piazza, ‘“‘I do wish aunt Davis
were not a Christian.” My mother expressed her
surprise at the uncharitable feeling I had expressed.
‘‘ It suits her so badly to be religious,” I continued.
“We all have faults, Charlie,” said my mother



CHILDHOOD. 15

soothingly, ‘‘ and I suppose your aunt finds it diffi-
cult all at once to become amiable, but I must con-
fess I know little of these matters,” and she sighed
deeply.

My dear mother! She might indeed have doubted
the reality of that piety which so entirely left out of
‘ts code the charity that is not easily provoked.
She might have said, “‘ By their fruits ye shall know
them. Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of
thistles ?”’

Mr. Maple had quietly entered during this conver-
sation. Taking his seat at the foot of my bed, he
looked at me thoughtfully for a moment, and then
said, ‘‘ When there is no earnest, secret cry to the
Mighty One for aid in the hour of temptation, when
there is no effort in the strength of the great High
Priest to resist the besetting sin, we have every
reason to fear that we have not entered on the con-
flict of the Christian life; but, my dear Charlie,” he
said, looking tenderly at me, “ you will find plenty
of work to do within your own heart without
making it your employment to discover the sins of
those around you. The same spirit that tells us to put
away strife, enjoins us to be pitiful and to hope all
things.’”’ And there was, as I have before observed,
something so convincing in all this holy man said,
that by the time my aunt again made her appearance,

D 3



16 REMEMBRANCES OF

I am sure I greeted her with one of my sweetest
smiles.

Then I have other recollections of this time of
childhood.

The hot months we generally spent at one of our
mountain estates, named Mount Orchard. I was
always very happy there. It might have been that
the cooler air in a measure refreshed me: this cer-
tainly was the case, but Annie, joyous Annie, was
the living spirit of our happiness. Oh, what a con-
trast there was at our little dinner-table—Aunt
Davis sitting on one side, and Annie opposite to
her. I have often wondered that no visible rainbow
appeared, for it certainly was sunlight shining on
cloud, and a rainy cloud, too, for the least contradic-
tion would sometimes cause Aunt Davis, in a sort of
childish petulance, to shed tears.

Annie always accompanied us in our morning
rides, and her gladness of heart seemed to Mr.
Maple as a reviving cordial. It was not levity, but
a grateful, thankful feeling that was within her
spirit, as a perennial spring running over and making
all glad within its invigorating influence. It is quite
impossible to give you any idea of the brilliant
expression that lighted up her eye when Mr. Maple
spoke of the love of God in Christ. It seemed to
tell you that she had tasted the Lord was gracious.



CHILDHOOD. 17

The very expression of her face said, as plainly as
words could say, “It is a good thing to give thanks
unto the Lord.” In very early life she had been
satisfied with His mercy, and therefore she rejoiced
and was glad all her days.

That wild mountain scenery is still vividly before
me. The intensity ef solitude pervades all around.
One or two stars still linger on the sky, but the
shadows flee away before the gradually advancing
morning. Now there is high rock land on each side
of our path, and before us are the everlasting hills.
How solemn sounds Mr. Maple’s voice as he says,—
“The mountains may depart, and the hills be
removed, but my kindness shall not depart from
thee, neither shall the covenant of my peace be
removed, saith the Lord, that hath mercy on thee.”’
Then again we are in more open country, and we
look on the distant sea, far, far below us. I seem
at this moment to hear the whispering wood sounds
around—the mysterious voice of the forest.

The red morning is steeping the east in crimson,
but though solemnized and subdued in spirit by the
magnificent scenery, my thoughts are neither with
wave nor sky.

“Of what are you thinking, Charlie?” kindly
asks Mr. Maple.

I start as if roused from a dream; and no wonder



18 REMEMBRANCES OF

my tutor makes this inquiry, for I feel that tears are
in my eyes. I could not, indeed, fathom my own
feelings, but of this I am certain, that as we paused
there, looking down on the far-spreading mountain
land below us, and the distant ocean, I had a strong
boding that sorrow was silently spreading its wings
over our home happiness. This was not super-
stition ; it was merely that feeling of insecurity that
sometimes forces its way into the heart when we are
resting on any earthly prop of comfort.

Just at this moment suddenly above the ame
crested mountains, rises the glorious sun—

Not, as in northern climes, obscurely bright,
But one unclouded blaze of living light.

It is true, there were clouds all around, but clouds
so refulgent in the glorious beaming, that they but
added to the grandeur and beauty of the scene. The
effect was beyond all description. The deep glades
were rejoicing in the sunbeams freely scattered over
them, whilst the luxuriant foliage immediately
around us, and palms and ferns in myriads wore
dew-drops as pearl gems in which to welcome the
morning. The arid plains in the distant lowlands
seemed to bear some part in the universal gladness,
and to smile in the rejoicing light, whilst the far



CHILDHOOD. 19

mountains had woven of the new-born rays a vest-
ment of rose and purple.

“Thus,” said Mr. Maple to Annie, “‘ does the Sun
of Righteousness arise with healing on his wings,
enlightening the dark heart of man, and making
lovely even the desert waste of life. The sun-
gvemmed clouds are emblems of the sorrowful heart
that reflects the image of its Master, the light afflic-
tion is almost forgotten in the radiance of the love
that encircles him; the dew-drop becomes the glis-
tening gem, the night of weeping lends new beauties
to the glories of the morning. I am already preach-
ing a sermon,” he smilingly said. Then the sudden
gun was distinctly heard, as if its tone were neces-
sary to proclaim that the sun had risen !

We had already lingered longer than usual on our
morning excursion, and pleasantly we cantered home.
At this moment I seem to hear the musical tone of
my cousin’s laughter. Oh! why did sorrow ever
darken those happy hours? But the shadows have
passed away. Dearest Annie! with gladness and
rejoicing she has entered into the King’s palace. I
am, however, running on too fast with my tale.

During lesson hours what childish stratagems I
employed to detain Annie in the portico which we
used as school-room. On her way from her bed-



20 REMEMBRANCES OF

room to the hall she was obliged to pass through
this our little study. Sometimes I would entreat
her to see if my sum were all right. Mr. Maple
would at first make an effort to be particularly
engaged, but he would suddenly discover that we
were both at fault in our arithmetical calculations,
and then some favourite author would be discussed.
Oh, what a happy little listener I was!

I am sure that children often receive more in-
struction in this way than from a regular lesson.

Annie’s parents were living in Kingston, and it
was to escape from the gaiety and dissipation there
that she so often visited her friends in the country.
She was sought after and much admired, for indeed
she was exceedingly lovely, but with those who
were of the world she felt no congeniality. No
marvel, then, that a strong attachment should
spring up between my beloved tutor and the thank-
ful confiding Annie.

I do not know which of the two claimed the
largest share of my childish admiration—Annie,
with her soft intelligent eyes, and heavenly smile—
for at times it certainly was illuminated by the
Christian’s hope, or Mr. Maple, with his pale, kind,
grave face and earnest look. I believe I respected
my tutor more than any other being on earth, and I



CHILDHOOD. 21

am convinced that had I not discovered how Annie
prized and valued him, she would not have been
half so dear to me.

About this time, too, aunt Davis was an unwearied
intruder into our little room. Oh, how patiently
Mr. Maple bore her incursions! Sometimes she
would actually take his place on the couch, and
remonstrate with him concerning a certain stoop
which she declared I had, but which, I believe, was
visible to no one else. Standing against the wall
she proposed as a remedy for this defect, and because
Mr. Maple, busy over my delectus, does not imme-
diately attend to her suggestion, she stalks out of the
room, coughing portentously, and saying, “‘ If I were
mistress of the house——I am only a visitor,” was
breathed forth to the empty piazza.

There was a deep sort of ravine immediately below
the mountain on which our house was situated,
where many large mango trees clustered, laden with
their golden fruit ; Avocado pear trees were thickly
interspersed amongst them, and star apples hung
in clusters from their own dark boughs.

We were all fond of mangoes. This is quite a
creole taste, for the English have, in general, a par-
ticular aversion to this fruit. If I missed Annie in
the evening, I was sure to find her—naughty girl!—
committing depredations amongst the mango trees.



22 REMEMBRANCES OF

One afternoon, I particularly remember, I was
bounding down the green hill towards her, when I
observed her in quiet yet earnest conversation with
Mr. Maple. Yes, it is clearly present to me still,
though many years have passed away since that
time, and the fretful and the happy, the earnest and
the sorrowful—all, all have laid them down, and the
clods of the valley cover them ; their love and their
hatred, their joy and their sorrow, is perished with
them. I only am left of all that mountain party,
and I believe in my breast alone remains any remem-
brance of anything that they did under the sun.
But, as I was saying, I remember everything con-
eerning that evening. The sky wore that look of
softness peculiar to it after a heavy morning rain.
The sunset’s gold was paler than usual, and there
was the deepest purple but little crimson on the
western horizon. Have you ever noticed a child
called from weeping to join in sudden mirth? Some-
thing that is not sadness, yet very nearly allied to it,
rests on that child’s face, and we see the tear on the
cheek, whilst laughter echoes from the lips. On
this evening nature wore just such a face. The
rain-drops were heavy on the leaves that sparkled in
the merry sunlight; the jasmius were absolutely
flinging away their fragrance, as if they did not
know what to do with it—they gave it to the breeze,



CHILDHOOD. 23

and the breeze bore it on to the distant woodland,
all down to the river-side. The wild senna trees,
too, how their lovely blossoms tossed the sparkling
rain-drops from them, like the scornful beauty throw-
ing disdainfully from her human affection. The fog
was beginning to rise. I believe this early life
amidst such scenery tinged my thoughts even then
with romance, for I remember thinking how deli-
cately beautiful was the silvery mist, as it fantasti-
cally dressed the mountains in its own airy lightness.
As I sit quietly on the bank watching all this, those
words, ‘‘ What is your life? it is even as a vapour r
keep chiming on my thoughts.

There is something so serious in my tutor’s man-
ner, and so unusually grave in Annie’s way of listen-
ing to what he says, that I do not like to interrupt
them. There stands Annie, in her white dress and
purple velvet shawl, that she was accustomed to
throw over her shoulders in the evening, with the
very look that she always wore when I spoke of my
tutor as being superior to any one else. Her happy
face was as a window, letting in the rays of hope and
summer light on the more thoughtfully moulded
mind of my tutor.

He had been lately ordained, and, I knew, was
ere long, to hold a living in the northern part of the
island.

E



24 REMEMBRANCES OF

As I am thus musingly sitting on my quiet bank,
I hear voices in the little portico which is just above
us:

‘There, Mary,” said my aunt Davis to my mother,
‘look at Annie and Mr. Maple—there is certainly
too much profession about that man.”

Oh, how my little heart beat with indignation.

‘My motto is,” continued my aunt, “ ‘let all
things be done decently and in order.’ I ask you, is
that correct ?”’

‘‘ Dinah,” replied my mother, in her slow gentle
way, ‘we must not blame Mr. Maple if he have
become attached to our sweet Annie.”

My aunt then said a great deal in a querulous
tone, which I did not hear, but how plainly I did
hear the stately tread and the ominous cough; and
‘Not mistress of the house, only visitor,’ died on
my ear as the land-breeze came down from the moun-
tains, just the same then as it does now, whispering,
whispering on, as if with love and sorrow, change
and death, it had some mysterious connexion, and
passing on before us we knew not whither.

That evening Annie had a long conversation in
the back piazza with my mother, and it was decided
that my cousin was to return to Kingston, early in
the next week. We all missed her sadly. Even
Aunt Davis had the manner of one looking about for



CHILDHOOD. 25

something she could not find, and Mr. Maple was un-
able to conceal his anxiety for the arrival of the post.
Well, several weeks passed, during which time my
mother was making arrangements for my return to
England. Mr. Maple became very sad, and aunt
Davis more fidgety than ever. )

I remember I well knew, though indeed I can-
not tell how, that my dear mother was advancing
in the Christian life, and I once overheard her say to
Mr. Maple, “‘ I was not sorrowful, but there was a
yearning in my heart for something I could not find,
my soul was unsatisfied; now I think, in some
degree, I do turn to my Saviour, and he never sends
me empty away—what love to one 80 undeserving !”
Indeed, my mother seemed altogether changed.
There was continually a placid smile on her counte-
nance; the letting out, as it were, of the peace
within; and it remained steadfast, too, that tranquil
look, even under a shower of sharp words from my
aunt, as if kept there by an invisible hand.

Mr. Maple is graver than ever. His bible, if
possible, is more continually his study.

We return to the Lowlands, and many more quiet
weeks roll on. The sea chimes regularly as ever.
My lessons are continued, and then my mother goes
to town, and returns in triumph with Annie. I

E 2



26 REMEMBRANCES OF

think the sunlight of her glance was dimmed, or
rather, I should say, softened, for her countenance
had lost none of its beautiful expression, and I felt,
from the cheerful tone in which she welcomed me,
that hope was strong within her.

Mr. Maple and Annie sat together all that even-
ing, and whilst my mother looked as if she had some
new source of enjoyment, aunt Davis became so un-
comfortable because no one was noticing her, that
after coughing ineffectually for some time, to draw
from us exclamations of pity, she called ‘‘ Bunchy,”
and retired to her bedroom. Yet there she could
not remain. She returned twice to tell us there
would surely be an earthquake, and I overheard
Annie whisper to Mr. Maple, ‘“‘I wonder she does
not say, ‘If I were mistress of the house, no such
convulsion of nature should disturb us.’” Mr.
Maple looked at her for a moment, as if inclined to
say something in reproof, but that smile conquered,
and he only looked gravely, and I fancied somewhat
pitifully at her.

It was at this time that I observed a peculiar
expression about my tutor’s face. A superstitious
person would have said it told he was not long for
this world. It was a look which plainly showed
that his spirit at times rose on the wings of a realising



CHILDHOOD. 27

faith, far above earth and its anxieties, aye, and
its affections, too, to be where Christ sitteth at the
right hand of God.

I surmised that all was right again, and wishing
to show that I had some knowledge of the state of
things, I plucked some of our school-room orange-
blossoms, and pushed them amongst Annie’s long
fair curls.

She kissed me affectionately, and asked me the
next morning if I would promise to be at her wed-
ding? Oh how delighted I was! I skipped about
the old room in my glee, and told Annie, with an air
of great sagacity, that it would be no common hap-
piness always to be with Mr. Maple.

But enough of all this. Aunt Davis continued to
find a thousand cases in which if she were mistress
of the house, and not only a visitor, things would
go on much better—truly, if she had ruled, the
bridal day would never have arrived.

How carefully I dressed on that eventful morning.
I tied my dark blue neckerchief, I have no doubt,
with consummate skill, and my jacket was as glossy
as my shining locks.

Well, mamma and aunt Davis went in the large
carriage, whilst I sat, full of importance, by dear
Annie’s side in the pheton. Mr. Maple was to
meet us at the church.

E 3



28 REMEMBRANCES OF

The sun rose that morning on the cloudless sky as
if care had nothing to do with life; as if sorrow
never even looked on human affection.

How well I recollect Annie’s pale face as she en-
tered the church! I thought she had forgotten her
smile, but no—she looked timidly at Mr. Maple, and
there it was, although subdued and chastened by
trembling and fear, those handmaids on every
approach to earthly happiness.

Annie’s parents were both present at the wedding.
I cannot tell why, but I was impressed with the
idea that they had reluctantly consented to this
marriage. |

The church is still before me: a low, barn-like
looking place. At the altar rails, which are newly
built of cedar, they are kneeling side by side, Mr.
Maple and Annie.

The feeling of Annie’s good fortune in being united
to Mr. Maple was uppermost in my mind. Dear
girl, much as I loved her, the idea of his happiness in
possessing such a treasure never once occurred to me.

Now Mr. Maple’s face wears the expression of
which I have before spoken, and for a moment or
two, even at this time, he seems to be far away
from the world, from its love, its sorrow, and all
belonging to it. Then I hear the low “ Amen,”
and the service is over.



CHILDHOOD. . 29

This time, my seat is by aunt Davis, for Mr.
Maple and Annie drive on together in the pheeton.
Aunt Davis troubles me sadly by pinning up her
gown, that it might not be injured by the dust, for
it was the very dress she had worn at my mother’s
wedding, and, as I saucily observed, she might one
day wear at mine. I am commissioned to hold
sundry small pins whilst she is thus occupied, and
then I am to carry her brown holland bag, and
carefully, too, for it contains a bottle of eau de Cologne
and a small phial of red lavender ; this latter was a
cordial which my aunt found necessary on all exciting
occasions. She will not allow me quietly to follow
the train of those mournful thoughts which neces-
sarily belong to a wedding, inasmuch as it is almost
always connected with some painful separation.

“Take care, Charlie, the bottles are striking
together,” she exclaims. ‘‘Of what are you think-
ing, Charlie ?—the umbrella is in my eye!” for
although there had been no rain for some time, we
were obliged to use umbrellas as shields against the
dress-destroying dust.

Right glad was I when we were once more in the
pleasant shade of the large hall.

It was a cheerful party, that second breakfast. I
tried hard to forget that Mr. Maple was never more
to be my tutor; that our pleasant mornings in the



30 . REMEMBRANCES OF

little library were henceforth to be but a remem-
brance. Even aunt Davis, in the sober cheerfulness
of that bridal party, seemed to forget that she was
but a visitor. Only once I heard her say, “If I
were mistress, these things should not be,” but I
believe, from long habit, that the sentence escaped
her involuntarily—there was no angry emphasis in
the words on this happy day.

The negroes were vociferous on this occasion.
What they had to do with the matter I cannot tell,
and I do not think they exactly knew themselves,
but wine and silver threepences—a coin current in
Jamaica—were freely given to them, and they felt
bound in gratitude to express their thanks as noisily
as possible.

The luncheon is over; Annie retires to exchange
her bridal for a travelling dress. She pauses at the
door, and with bright sparkling happiness gleaming
on her sweet young face,

‘‘ Charlie,” she says, as she stoops and kisses my
forehead, ‘‘ the lines have fallen unto me in pleasant
places—my cup runneth over.”

In the listlessness of heart which was already
beginning to follow the unusual excitement I had
undergone, I stroll in the piazza, afraid even to look
at the door of our little study. Who gallops down
the long avenue? I recognise him by his beautiful



CHILDHOOD. 31

black horse. It is Arthur Lochane. He is too late
for the wedding, but he may yet see Annie, whom
he has not met for years. He may yet wish her
happiness as the bride of another who was once the
starlight of his boyhood. So unselfish is his affection,
that with genuine sincerity he grasps Mr. Maple’s
hand, and congratulates him on the prize he has
won.

A keen observer might have perceived something
like agitation in Arthur’s manner, but it soon passes
away, and he is composed as ever as he stands by
Mr. Maple, who is admiring the glossy coat of the
spirited black horse. How elegant is the curve of
its arched neck, as, impatient of restraint, it paws
the ground.

Arthur is very fond of his horse, and he draws

Mr. Maple’s attention to the good expression of its
eye.
Whilst they are thus engaged, my pet fawn
makes its escape, and bounding immediately before
the noble animal, causes it to rear and turn round, so
that its fore legs come in sudden and violent contact
with Mr. Maple’s chest.

He sank on the steps, whilst the blood streamed
from his mouth.

Annie, who saw the accident from the window,



32 REMEMBRANCES OF

hastens towards him, and the deep crimson stain
covers her loosened bridal robe.

There are some sudden woes that do the work of
years in a morning !

How was that fair girl altered! ‘‘ As a tempest
of rain and a destroying storm, as a flood of mighty
waters overwhelming,” had that sorrow come upon
her.

Mr. Maple had fainted, and it was with much
difficulty that we conveyed him to the sofa in the
dear study where we had spent many happy hours.

What a meeting for Arthur! Annie was 60
absorbed in the intensity of anguish, that she did not
seem to know he was present. She neither spoke,
nor wept, nor sighed. All the strength of her grief
was concentrated in the earnest, unmoved gaze
that she kept fixed on Mr. Maple’s pallid face.

He slowly opens his eyes, and they rest on
Annie. Oh, the unutterable tenderness of his
loving look! He was too much exhausted to speak,
but I know had he been able to express himself at
that moment, he would have said to the —
girl,—

‘¢ Be strong, fear not; I, the Lord, am with thee
—I, the God of Israel, will not forsake thee.”

The negroes expressed their sympathy by groans



CHILDHOOD. 33

and lamentations of the most terrible and uncouth
nature. Annie was almost maddened by the turmoil,
and we could, neither by threats nor persuasions,
induce them to be quiet.

It was two hours before the doctor arrived. Mr.
Maple was removed into his bedroom, and the
sorrowful bride becomes the tender and loving
nurse.

I shall never, through life, forget the sudden
change from that day of feasting to the house of
mourning. We could scarcely realize it. There
had been no anticipated sorrow—no twilight to
prepare us for the unexpected darkness. The mid-
night of anguish had come in, as it were, on the
day, and put out the rejoicing sun.

And then it was peculiarly trying to see Annie
wrapped in the dark garb of sadness.

There are some methodical characters, so sober
even in happiness, that when affliction settles on
them, its inroads are, at all events, for some little time,
scarcely perceptible. But Annie! our sunbeam—our
morning: Annie—the echo of whose silvery laughter
ran through our long halls; whose smile left glad-
ness with the sorrowful, and whose very tone en-
couraged the despondent—to see her moving noise-
lessly about, with silence on her lips and sorrow on
her brow, this was grief indeed. ~



34 REMEMBRANCES OF

I was sometimes admitted into my loved tutor’s
room.

Dear Mr. Maple; there was the expression of which
I have before spoken, stronger and plainer than ever ;
and, child as 1 was, I knew, that though fondly
affectionate towards Annie, his soul was longing to
be with him, whom having not seen, he loved.

Arthur soon left us. He could have witnessed
Annie’s happiness, but he could not endure to see
her sorrow.

I have still an indistinct recollection of dreary
days—that little forsaken library haunts me yet. I
had no lessons to learn. There I sat, trying to make
the loud ticking of the old clock keep time with the
music of the waves.

At length there was a whispering in the house,
and then Jamba, the cook, and Prince, the butler,
literally began to howl. Dr. Parry came out, and
for a time commanded silence; but my bedroom was
prepared for Annie, and then I knew that all was
over—my beloved tutor was never more to meet me
in our pleasant study. Annie’s life in its morning
was darkened, for he had gone home. ‘This was the
way in which she first touchingly mentioned her
sorrow to me.

I remember a low grave under a spreading sand-
box-tree, with my tutor’s name on the rough stone.



CHILDHOOD. 35

Aunt Davis grew much more amiable after this
sad event. Ido not recollect ever again hearing her
say that she was only a visitor, though once or twice
she told me, with real humility, that she felt she
was a stranger and a pilgrim upon earth.

She learnt at length to look beyond things seen
for happiness, and how wonderful was the change,
such indeed as might be deemed almost incredible by
those who know nothing of the satisfying and peace-
bestowing nature of true religion. The tone of
murmur was for ever hushed, nay was lost in the
sweet song of praise, so true it is that when, by the
Spirit of Adoption we are enabled to say, “‘ Father ;”
when we can view the smallest circumstances as
being controlled and ordered by Him who careth for
us, trivial discomforts cease any longer s0 to irritate
us; a ray from the better land has fallen on our
way, and seeing in the far distance the gates of the
Celestial City, we look upwards and forget the
thorns of those petty annoyances in anticipation of
the glory which shall be revealed.

My mother lived many years after Mr. Maple’s
death, growing in grace and in the knowledge of her
Lord and Saviour; but Annie, in the flush of her
youth, was called away, and I could not mourn for
her, but whenever I hear the whispering land
breeze, or the measured roll of the waves, I think of

r



36 REMEMBRANCES OF CHILDHOOD.

that happy room and my beloved tutor, and I try to
remember the laughter-loving Annie as she was
when untouched by sorrow. At all events, this
hope I have, that again our home circle will be
made complete in the land where Death and Woe
will have nothing more to do with earthly affection.



CHAPTER II.

Q@ Character—RLinny.



I never can forget Mr. Walker. He was an eccen-
tric being, and yet many such characters were, 1
believe, found from time to time, some years ago,
amongst the semi-civilized inhabitants of Jamaica’s
mountain land. |

My friend Mr. Campbell had just arrived from
England, and he sent mea pressing invitation to run
down to his estate for two or three days. I arrived
- in the afternoon, and I found he was expecting some
gentlemen to dine with him at seven o’clock.

We were talking over old times when, after a
little unusual bustle in the piazza, a negro boy ran
in, with a short driving whip in his hand, ‘and, with
a laugh in which I am sure all his very white teeth
joined, said, ‘‘ Massa, Buckra come,” and before we
had time to make any inquiries as to the name by

F 2



38 A CHARACTER.

which this buckra was distinguished from buckras
generally, a fine looking old gentleman walked into
the room, with loaded pistols in his hand, pointed
towards us. Mr. Campbell persuaded him to place
these on the table, and then introduced him to me as
Mr. Walker.

I cannot forget his wild look, his neglected hair,
his blue coat, with its large flat gilt buttons, his
white waistcoat, and untidily folded cravat. My
first feeling was that of astonishment that such an
uncouth being should not only be permitted as a |
guest, but actually welcomed as a friend. How
my heart afterwards condemned me for this thought.

I found he was continually haunted by the idea
that his life was sought by the negroes around him.
It was with great difficulty that Mr. Campbell had
obtained from him a promise to remain that evening,
for he seldom left home.

His manners were a strange mixture of eccentricity,
bordering on actual rudeness, and the polish of a
well-bred gentleman. He attached himself to me
throughout the evening, from a likeness which he
insisted that I bore to his son Tom.

There was something very melancholy in his con-
versation. It was the wreck of a great mind, and
by the really beautiful thoughts which momentarily
appeared on the surface, you were reminded how



A CHARACTER. 39

much was sunk in the wide sea of opportunities lost
and time mispent.

And then the restless unquiet of his eye was most
painful. If a servant came into the room, Mr.
Walker looked towards his pistols, as if he longed
again to have them in his possession; indeed, the
whole tone of his conversation was to convince us
that even the most harmless of our attendants were
lying in wait to kill him. I thought it must neces-
sarily be monomania, but Mr. Campbell assured me
that his friend’s mind was unimpaired: it was the
very secluded life which for more than fifty years he
had led that had given rise to these suspicions.

Throughout dinner I observed that he raised his
plate to his nose every time it was replenished, to
detect if poison had been put therein; and when he
retired to his bedroom, oh, what preparations of
defence were made against a midnight attack. A
sword was put across the foot of his bed, and a pair
of loaded pistols were carefully placed under his
pillow.

And then to see his travelling apparatus, as it
stood at the door the next morning. What a pic-
ture it would have made! There was a little old
gig, with very high wheels, to which two half-
starved horses were attached by ropes, tandem
fashion. The effect of all this was heightened by

F 3



40 A CHARACTER.

the air with which Mr. Walker gave orders to his
outriders, a couple of ragged boys on mules, to
‘keep ahead of him.”

« They would shoot me sn the back,” he knowingly
observed to me, ‘if allowed to lag behind.”

With the ease and assurance of an ‘‘ excellent
whip,” he took his seat on the old hassock which
served as cushion, and was turned upside down, that
the most presentable part might meet the public
eye, and in the style of a gentleman whose equip-
ments were first-rate, he waved us his adieux.

Oh, what a bustle there was, when he in reality
set off. The smallest outrider was left far behind,
and I saw Mr. Walker, when he turned round, in-
stinctively put his hand upon his pistol. The port-
manteau had almost slipped from the mule, and the
mule seemed determined to slip from its rider, for it
stood still and kicked, as if protesting vehemently
against associating too intimately with such a
master; then, as if it had suddenly changed its
mind, flew off with a speed which well nigh upset
“Smudge,” for such was the name of the little
stable-boy, raised on this occasion to the rank of
outrider.

Mr. Campbell proposed a visit to Mr. Walker the
following evening, and appeared much to enjoy my

surprise at his partiality for this uncouth being.



A CHARACTER. 41

During the drive, as might have been expected,
our conversation was principally of Mr. Walker,
when I asked if he had any ideas of religion ?

‘¢ All approach to serious conversation,” said Mr.
Campbell, ‘‘he connects by some mysterious associa-
tion of memory with his daughter Minny, who died
of fever some two or three years ago.

‘‘ His eldest child, now Mrs. Bartley, was as self-
willed and violent as her father. Hers was a run-
away match, and she had much difficulty to effect
her escape. This, however, she achieved by setting
the house on fire as she made her exit, and whilst
her father was entirely occupied in quelling the
flames, and in endeavouring to discover which of his
negroes had been the perpetrator of this act, she had
leisure, unmolested and unobserved, to accomplish
her escape.

“ Bella, the youngest daughter, is a wild creature ;
you will, I have no doubt, see her this evening.
She can use the currycomb to a horse, or saddle it,
and seems quite in her element when in the atmos-
phere of the stable.

‘‘ Minny sprang up between them, a delicate and
gentle being, fair as a lily, and painfully nervous
from the secluded life she led. Hers was indeed a
most interesting case. She found an old pocket
bible in a negro hut; she turned over its pages, and



42 A CHARACTER.

became so interested in their contents, that she pur-
chased the treasure, and returned home to read
throughout the night that sacred volume.

“ She told me that at this time she had never
even heard of the Gospel plan of salvation. She
knew that Jesus was the Son of God, but she was
altogether ignorant that through Him only she could
approach the Father.

‘¢God giveth His Holy Spirit to them that ask
him,’ she said; ‘I read the Blessed Saviour’s words
—‘‘ Whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name,
I will give it you,” and my instantaneous prayer
was, “Give me thy Holy Spirit for the sake of Jesus
Christ.’ Oh, how, in its beautiful freedom and sim-
plicity, the plan of salvation opened upon me ; whilst
the sufferings of the Son of God caused me to see the
exceeding sinfulness of sin; the fulness of the
redemption that was in Christ Jesus enabled me at
length to say, ‘‘ From Him cometh my salvation.” ’

“She had never met even with a professor of
religion till she became acquainted with me. She had
no technical terms, no peculiar mode of phraseology.
She had never been able to attend a place of public
worship, for there was not one for miles round, but
at the crimson fall of day the bamboos at the river
side had been witnesses of her earnest prayer, and,
amidst that disorderly and complaining household,



A CHARACTER. 43

she moved with gladness in her heart and peace in
her bosom.

‘Minny was far advanced in the Christian life,
but knew it not. Love to Him who had done so
much for her was the pervading feeling of her soul.
Her childlike confidence, her simple trust in her
Redeemer, so unmarred by doubt of any kind, spoke
in a reproving voice to many a far-famed Christian
of the present day.

‘¢ At one time, her father lost, through the failure
of a house in England, many thousand pounds, and
was, consequently, obliged to make a home of the
miserable abode in which you will find them this
evening.

‘‘T was with them at the time of their removal.
The house they had left was large and commodious,
though in a most desolate part of the country. Mr.
Walker was morose and severe; his wife was in
tears; Bella was murmuring and dispirited, whilst
Minny smilingly and quietly glided in and out
amongst them. Now she was tastefully arranging
some ornamental shells on the low table; then she
was affectionately whispering to her papa, ‘ We shall
soon make all comfortable,’ and pushing her small
white hands playfully through his silvery hair.

“<¢ Minny,’ I softly said, ‘how is it that you
alone are happy ?’



44 A CHARACTER.

««¢ Oh, you forget, Mr, Campbell,’ she said; and
then, lowering her voice to the softest tone, how
touchingly she added, ‘ “ Peace I leave with you ;
my peace I give unto you; not as the world giveth,
give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled,
neither let it be afraid.” ’

‘‘ The Bible alone had been her study. She had
never read any book on theology—commentaries she
had never heard of; the Word of God was the light
to her feet, and the lamp to her path, and the
entrance of those words had given understanding to
the simple. She had not received the spirit of
bondage, the language of adoption was hers, and she
cried ‘ Abba, Father!’

“Tam persuaded that nothing could have separated
her from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus
our Lord.

‘There she went on, from day to day, delighting
in the law of God, yet warring against the law of
her mind. And all this hidden life, this internal
conflict, she carried on alone—no, not alone, for the
Father loved her; the Lord looked down from
heaven on this precious one, and very often, in the
midst of that divided family, led her by the still
waters of heavenly consolation.

‘© What a changed creature she became ; changed
altogether in manner, for self had been in a great



A CHARACTER. 45

measure cast down, and goodwill towards man
flourished in its place. Changed, too, she was, even
in appearance, for the meekness of heavenly wisdom
shone in her smile, and you could see by her whole
deportment that the Refiner had been with her.

‘¢ Her sisters laughed at her; her mother forbad
her to mention in her presence the subject of religion;
only to her eccentric father did she dare occasionally
to speak of her inward source of happiness.

“Oh, how her heart of tendrils clung to the pro-
mises! She never said, ‘I have been reading this
new work,’ or ‘I have been told this or that,’ but,
‘n the beautiful simplicity of Scripture language, her
answer was ever ready.

« ¢ Do you not sometimes, Minny,’ I one day said,
wishing to try her, ‘do you not sometimes do things
that are right, from your own amiable disposition ?’

‘¢ ¢ Jesus Christ says,’ she answered, ‘ ‘ If a man
abide not in me, he is cast forth as a branch, and is
withered.” Once I, too, was fretful, continually
quarrelling with my sisters ; but this could not con-
tinue. Scarcely had I breathed the angry word,
when a voice seemed to whisper, “ This is my com-
mandment— that ye love one another, as I have
loved you.” Yet am I daily offending a forbearing
Father,’ she said, with a sorrowful look; ‘and did
He not receive where man would reject ; did he not



46 A CHARACTER.

pity when the world would scorn, and wait to be
gracious where a fellow sinner would repel, I know
not what would become of me. How truly he says
by his prophet, ‘‘ As the heavens are higher than the
earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and
my thoughts than your thoughts.” ’

‘‘T do not remember that she had ever before
spoken thus unreservedly to me, but she was carried
on by her heart’s fervour. Then suddenly she began
to apologize for the boldness with which she had
been giving me her opinion.

‘‘There was a striking peculiarity in this dear
child’s faith. We allow that Jesus is our friend,
that he careth for us, that he is ever touched with
the feeling of our infirmities, and we should be
startled if any one questioned our sincerity as regarded
these convictions; but I am certain that we do not,
as she did, take to our God the little daily dis-
quietudes of home, the ruffling annoyance, the
chafing care. We do not realize His presence, as
she did, about our path in the evening walk, about
our bed when the shades of night have closed around
us. Thus was she enabled, amidst many difficulties,
to go on her way rejoicing. She opened her mouth
wide and it was filled. She opened her heart and it
was satisfied with the fulness of God.

‘‘ She was almost uneducated, though, I should



A CHARACTER. 47

say, naturally clever, and in proportion as she became
+ mbued with the spirit of her Master did her very
language become improved. Seeking to follow His
example, she was pitiful and courteous, and in the
sincerity of true Christian unselfishness, became pos-
sessed of the germ of real politeness.

« As the small rain upon the tender herb had that
Word been to Minny.

‘Tn this case, man was not even used as an in-
strument. The Lord alone did lead her. He found
her in a waste howling wilderness ; he instructed
her, he kept her as the apple of his eye.

“Then she was suddenly attacked by fever. She
stood on the borders of the heavenly inheritance, and
looked back with longing, lingering love on her
white-haired father.

“T called, without even knowing of her illness,
and she begged to see me.

«“¢T might have been dreaming,’ these were the
words she addressed to me the very first moment I
made my appearance, ‘but this morning some one
stood by me all in white, and told me that my dear
papa would turn and repent. Do not, dear Mr.
Campbell, lose sight of him; remember that the
angels of God rejoice over one sinner that repenteth.’

‘‘T was so deeply affected, I could only bow my

G



48 A CHARACTER.

head in token of acquiescence. It was a touching
sight to see her lying on that little comfortless bed,
with the rude apparatus of arms and harness hanging
from the walls, her mother passively sitting by her,
and her father, for once forgetting that his life was
in danger, bending anxiously over her—yet he could
not stay her, she was going home! She had held
fast that she had, and no man could take her crown.
Already the tree of life was in sight, which is in
the midst of the paradise of God.

“ pered.

«© ¢ No,’ she solemnly answered ; ‘ our Great High
Priest who has passed into the heavens is waiting
there to receive me.’

‘‘ Love had triumphed, and had cast out fear.
All this language was in such strong contrast to the
tone of conversation prevalent in that family, that
the effect was impressive.

‘“T felt a longing that some of my Christian friends
in England could come and look on that dying bed.
I am persuaded they would have returned home
with a firm resolve to make the simple word of God
more constantly their study, they would have felt
their faith strengthened, and their pride of heart
subdued. They would have learnt at the bedside of



A CHARACTER. 49

that dear girl that we must be led by the Spirit of
God, even as a little child is led, if we would be the
sons of God.

“Twas unable to remain long with Minny. I
stooped down and kissed her cold forehead. She
had been silent and motionless so long that we
thought the coma, which is the last stage of yellow
fever, must have been stealing over her. I, however,
gently whispered, ‘ The peace of God, which passeth
all understanding, keep your heart and mind through
Christ Jesus.’

‘She opened her eyes, and distinctly said, ‘ He
hath clothed me with the garments of salvation.’

‘These were, I believe, her last words, she died
in the evening.

‘© T have since seen little of Mr. Walker, in con-
sequence of my recent visit to England, but you will
now understand why I was so anxious to introduce
him to you. You may remind him of his daughter’s
dying wish, but deal with him gently, he is a wild
being, almost ferocious, if approached unguardedly.”

Oh, how I blamed myself for having entertained
such hard thoughts of one to whom my Master might
be waiting to be gracious; how I prayed for wisdom
in the difficult task before me.

“There,” said my friend, “1s their humble
dwelling.”

Gg 2



50 A CHARACTER.

“That negro hut,” I exclaimed, “ impossible +7?

It was a low, barn-like house. The roof was in a
dilapidated condition, the shingles being completely
decayed, and the palmetto thatch only used in those
places where repair was absolutely necessary. The
Venetianed windows were broken in many parts,
and might perhaps once have been green, although
this is merely a supposition, as no trace of their
original colour remained.

The approach of our pheton was the signal for
some half-dozen starved dogs to make their appear-
ance; they seemed too low-spirited to bark. All
the cocks, too, began to crow vehemently, and the
wildest of wild black heads forced itself through a
broken part of the before-mentioned Venetian blinds.
Then there was a tittering and whispering, “ Him
bring ’trange buckra wid him, and him ’tand tall like
aloe.”* Then there was suppressed laughter again.

No one came to our assistance, but Mr. Campbell
was not in the least disconcerted, he was initiated in
these mysterious proceedings. Leaving his carriage,
he bade me follow him, and we unceremoniously
entered the dwelling. An uncomfortable perception
of smoke and spirit assailed me, and I found myself
at once in the presence of Mr. Walker.

* The negroes, it must be remembered, seldom articulate
the s or th. Buckra, white man.



A CHARACTER. 51

He was sitting, without coat or waistcoat, in a low
wooden chair, which he was pushing back in creole
style, whilst his shoeless feet had attained no slight
degree of eminence on the half-plastered wall. His
slippers kept their humble station on the ground
below. His hair was neglected, and his face un-
shorn. His collar was unbuttoned, and altogether
he was in such complete dishabille that I felt uneasy
at having thus intruded on him. I therefore kept
in the background, and began to murmur an apology.
His inimitable coolness of manner, however, in a
moment set me at rest.

Rising with real unembarrassed elegance to receive
us, although he did not even remember to put on
his slippers,—‘‘ Most happy to see you,” he said ;
‘‘pray be seated.”

I thought for a moment he was at a loss, as there
were no chairs in the room, with the exception of
the wooden one before mentioned, but this must have
been my fancy, for the next instant he had inverted —
two empty tamarind kegs, and thus supplied the
deficiency of these necessary articles of household
furniture.

Then he pressed on us refreshment, and would
take no refusal.

There wasa dried Yorkshire ham suspended by a
hook from a horizontal beam that traversed the upper

a 3



52 A CHARACTER.

part of the room. Mr. Walker took his dirk from
his side, and cut off several slices of this dried meat.
Then he called the good-natured looking girl who
had likened me to an aloe, to make preparations for
the cooking of our repast.

In a yard immediately beneath one of the windows,
and where Mr. Walker could overlook all culinary
proceedings, and detect any attempt at poison,
a square was made with four bricks, in which a fire
of wood was kindled, and in some apparatus of his
own manufacture the broiling of the ham commenced.
Then there was a sudden running and chasing in the
waste ground immediately in front of us, and I soon
perceived that one of the feathered tribe who had so
musically welcomed us was suffering martyrdom on
our account. He was being stoned to death, and I
believe it was our friend Smudge of the preceding
evening who dealt the fatal blow, if I may judge
from the triumph actually gleaming from his teeth.

A very thin old woman boiled the cocoas in a pan
given to her from our sitting room, by Mr. Walker.

‘“‘ You remind me,” I said, laughing, “of Oliver
Cromwell. Do you not recollect that for many years
he was harassed by the fear that his life was sought?
It is a penalty, I suppose, that great men must
sometimes pay.”

He was surprised I made such a subject a matter



A CHARACTER. 53

of merriment, he said. Only last night, as he
returned, a strange negro rushed from the bushes,
and his own servants had seemed much discomposed.
What could be the meaning of all this?

Well, we could not convince him that his own
fears formed dangers out of the most harmless
circumstances, so we talked of other things, and
then Mrs. Walker and Bella made their appearance.
Mrs. Walker was very tall and very thin, and I well
remember that her old-fashioned dress was too tight
and too short.

We had for some time heard a sort of half-sup-
pressed bustle in the next room, as of a process of
laborious dressing, mingled with whispers such as
these—‘‘I must wear my kid shoes—that ribbon is
too faded,” &c. This accounted for the flushed face
of Bella, who literally seemed exhausted.

I must confess she was the most weather-beaten
young lady I ever remember to have seen; the very
crimson of her cheeks, having to struggle through an
outer casement of amber colour, became a sort of
deep neutral tint, relieved only by large freckles of a
much darker hue. When she sat down, she put her
feet forward, pressing them together as if she regretted
they were not one, and then I noticed the kid shoes
whispered about in the adjoining apartment. Her
white gloves were soiled and stained, her bracelets



54 A CHARACTER.

tawdry, and her light muslin dress seemed scarcely
suited to that apartment. Her very eyes were sun-
burnt : the part that should have been white being
strangely mixed with red gave them a glaring
appearance.

The feeling uppermost in my mind was the most
profound pity for this unfortunate girl, shut out
from the means of civilization open to even the
poorest in England. I asked her if she liked the
country? ‘Yes, sir,” she said, and then she held
down her head, and broke out into a hissing whis-
pering laugh.

‘ Have you been long in this neighbourhood ?”

‘‘-Yes;” and another mysterious laugh followed,
which it was most painful to hear.

Mrs. Walker had evidently moved, at some fime
of her life, in refined society, and I was quite at a
loss to account how it happened that she had im-
parted none of this civilization to her daughter.

I afterwards learnt from the thin cook a piece of
information, proffered willingly, however, that “ old
massa always lock up old missis when him go out,
and neber let him ’tay wid him own pickney.”

Poor lady! I believe that long oppression had so
benumbed all her finer feelings, that she had for
some time ceased to feel any interest in the improve-
ment of her children.



A CHARACTER. 590

I heard from Mr. Campbell, that Mr. Walker
would sometimes keep his wife for weeks a prisoner
in her bedroom. No marvel, then, that she sunk
into a state of unmurmuring acquiescence, and lost
all energy of purpose, all vigour of mind.

I tried to persuade myself that she sometimes
gazed compassionately on her daughter, but no,
when I looked again, there was something vacant in
the expression that had no doubt been once animated
by maternal affection. My spirits became dejected
to such a degree, that Mr. Campbell began to rally
me on my silence.

Then I made some observation to Bella, and again
the hissing laugh threw me back into a sort of
despondency.

Yet there was a degree of conceit visible about
Bella, that was to me surprising. My friend Mr.
Campbell made some allusion to the frequent visits
of a medical gentleman in the neighbourhood, and
she hung down her head, whilst a smile of delight
did for a moment cause a meteor gleam of intelligence
to flit across her face, and she fidgeted with her
gloves, and the neutral tint deepened on her cheeks,

Poor girl! why should I thus uncharitably accuse
her of conceit?

Was she, then, to consider herself as shut out
from all human affection because debarred the privi-



56 A CHARACTER.

leges of society and education? Might she not have
sterling qualities I could not on a first acquaintance
perceive? There is often a weary toil in darkness
before the gem is found that sparkles in the coronal,
and when I considered what the wisest amongst us
must be in the sight of God, when I remembered
how he pitied our weaknesses, and looked on us and
loved us, disfigured as we were by ignorance, and
rendered loathsome by sin, my heart reproached me,
and for the rest of the evening I am sure my tone
was softer to Bella, and my manner kinder whenever
I addressed her.

The stars were out before we commenced our
homeward ride, and I felt discouraged that I had
not introduced one serious word during the conversa-
tion of that evening. |

‘¢ Never mind,”’ said Mr. Campbell, encouragingly ;
“you can go alone next time, and lure Mr. Walker
to speak of Minny. This will soften his heart, and
no doubt incline him to receive favourably any
observation you may make.”’

My dreams that night were of that strange abode.
I thought I was in the old hall, half sitting-room,
half saddle-room, but Minny was therc, looking
reproachfully at me, as an ambassador of Christ who
had forgotten his message of peace.

As I have before observed, Mr. Walker had taken



A CHARACTER. 57

what is generally called “‘a great fancy” to me,
and I therefore was not surprised to find him at Mr.
Campbell’s the next morning.

He had made himself quite at home during our
absence, for we had been taking a morning ride.
He was sitting with his pipe in the piazza, and his
feet at their usual height, only he did not retain his
dishabille of the preceding evening, and the weight
of his coat seemed to oppress him. His pistols were
close at hand, and the unquiet wandering expression
of countenance very visible this morning.

‘‘ Are you always thus disquieted, Mr. Walker,”
I gently inquired, and I did not laugh this time.

‘‘ Continually on the alert, sir; obliged to be,”
was his answer.

‘‘ If we abide under the shadow of the Almighty,”
I said, “‘ we need not be afraid of the terror by night,
nor the arrow that flieth by day.”

He remained perfectly unmoved.

‘¢ As the mountains are round about Jerusalem,”
I continued, ‘so the Lord is round about his
people.”

‘Aye, jis people!” he replied, with a sudden
vehemence that almost made me start.

‘‘ Do you know, Mr. Scott, although we sit here
side by side, there is an immeasurable gulf between



58 A CHARACTER.

us—that which divides the right hand side from the
left.”

T was so unprepared for any observation of this
kind, that I made no reply, and holding down his
pipe, with a look more sorrowful than I had ever
seen him wear, he moodily continued :

«‘T went on my own dark, wilful way, compara-
tively with ease, but Minny (and there was an inex-
pressible tenderness in his tone when he mentioned
this name), Minny held out a light, and I saw the
dreary waste before me. She is gone, but the light
still remains—nothing will extinguish it, and now I
go on uneasily and sadly, longing yet unable to
quench it.”

“Follow it, my dear sir,” I said; ‘so shall you
bless the day your daughter was led to place it
there; follow it, and it will lead you from the wil-
derness to a land flowing with milk and honey, even
to the heavenly Canaan.”

“Minny,” he continued, without any reference to
my remark, “grew up as a garden flower in the
midst of our wilderness —our uncivilized home.
She was as different from Bella as light from dark-
ness, as different from us all 1

“As the spiritual mind is from the carnal,” I
interrupted.





A CHARACTER. 59

‘‘ Yes,” he said, in no way offended at my remark,
“that was it; and well for her it was that she was
called away, though her sweet and dutiful affection
for me was the only ray that ever brightened a long
and dreary life of sorrow.”

The whole man was changed whilst he was thus
speaking, and all his fears were forgotten.

‘“‘ You may go to her,” I said, ‘‘ though she can-
not return to you.”

‘“‘ Aye, Minny would have her grey-haired father
at her side, that I know well enough,” he replied,
‘but the Holy God will not admit such a one as I into
his presence, and this you know, Mr. Scott,” he
added, with something like severity.

‘‘T know,” I solemnly answered, “‘ that nothing
that defileth can enter into the heavenly land; but I
know that the greatest sinner can be washed and
made white in the blood of the Lamb, that clothed
in the righteousness of his great Surety he can be
presented faultless before the Father. The invitation
is unlimited—‘ Whosoever will, let him come and
take of the waters of Life freely.’ ”’

‘‘ But I do not will,’ he said. ‘‘I am miserable,
yet I would not be a saint.”

‘You would not?” I said, ‘‘ you are convinced
you would not? You would not follow after holi-
ness, you would not be led from the broken cisterns

H



60 A CHARACTER.

of earthly enjoyment to the living fountain of eternal
happiness ? ”’

He looked thoughtful, and I felt I had said enough
on this occasion.

I joined the breakfast party with a lighter heart,
feeling thankful that I had been permitted to open
the way, as it were, to future conversations on this
all important subject.

And so it was. We now frequently talked toge-
ther on religious matters. Sometimes he would meet
my arguments with an air of impenetrability, and at
such times his countenance seemed all at once as if
made of stone. It was discouraging enough. I felt
as if all my counsels and persuasions fell powerless
before him. He made no opposition ; he ensconced
himself in the stronghold of sullen indifference, a
sort of fixed determination to remain unmoved.
This was all necessary for me, that I might more
entirely feel the excellency of the power to be not of
man but of God.

‘Plead thou thine own cause, O Thou most
Mighty,” was my prayer, and then those consoling
words came to my recollection—‘‘ Why art thou cast
down, O my soul? hope thou in God!” Even at that
moment, though I knew it not, amidst all this effort at
indifference, the sword of the Spirit had entered his
soul, the voice that shook the earth had reached his



A CHARACTER. 61

ear. The proud man was to sit in the dust of humi-
liation, that he might become acquainted with Him
who revives the spirit of the contrite.

It was a little after this, that I observed he had
an increasing conviction of guilt, but he would not
look only unto Jesus as the Lamb of God who taketh
away the sins of the world.

He knew, indeed, of the great propitiatory sacri-
fice; he knew that the Lord did not require him to
come into his presence with burnt offerings, with
calves of a year old, yet, in spite of this knowledge,
something he must bring — the determination to
attend the ordinances of religion, the resolve to battle
with his impetuous temper; with these he would
make a barter, as it were, of eternal life.

It was arduous work for him. He studied the
Scriptures, and he saw what the Law required.
‘¢ his do and thou shalt live,” sounded in his ears,
and again he set to work, and again he fell. The
members of his family dreaded even his mention of
religion. He would angrily rebuke the sins he had
so long encouraged, and such was his discontented
spirit, so maddened was he by the sense of sins
which his conscience whispered were new every
morning, that I believe he would at that time have
persecuted even unto death those who opposed him.

He was in this frame of mind when I left him to

H 2



62 A CHARACTER.

return to my duties in the Port Royal Mountains,
and I think more than a year passed away without
any communication having taken place between us,
and then I received a short note from Mr. Walker,
begging me, if possible, to pay him a visit, as he was
very ill, and feared he had not many days to live.

My interest in him was all at once revived, but
Oh, with what a pang of self-reproach I felt how,
even in prayer, I had neglected to ask for him
spiritual light. If our God thus dealt with us, if
His ways were as our ways, what would become of
man? I had even been in his neighbourhood and
neglected to visit him—I, who was the minister, the
steward of the Most High!

I tried to console myself, but it was only a mo-
mentary effort at comfort, by the idea that Mr.
Walker lived far beyond the sphere of my ministerial
duties. Did my Master lose any opportunity of
doing good? A voice from within made inquiry.

These reflections induced me speedily to commence
my journey, my kind friend Dr. Sanders, though
staying with me to obtain a little rest, having
consented to officiate for me on the approaching Sab-
bath, should circumstances detain me longer in the
country than I had anticipated.

It was evening when I reached Lemon Grove.

There were the unpainted venetians, looking, if



A CHARACTER, 63

possible, more neglected than ever. Smudge made
his appearance, and his teeth laughed merrily as
formerly.

My heart revived. Mr. Walker must be better, I
thought, or there would be some touch of anxiety on
this boy’s face.

Full of hope, I entered the dingy room. There
was the wooden chair in the same place, with a
soiled white jacket hanging on it. The slippers
were on the ground, and looked as if they had
remained there since my last visit.

It is impossible to describe the comfortless appear-
ance of that room. It was not the shadow of poverty
that darkened it, it was disorder that pervaded it.
The dried meat was hanging on the wall, and the
setting sunbeams were playing on the candlesticks
which had evidently kept their place on the table
from the preceding evening. Two empty wine-
glasses stood on the faded table-cover, and whilst I
was endeavouring to account for the discomfort
apparent, by the pressing anxiety which might have
caused all minor things to be forgotten, Bella made
her appearance.

My first eager inquiries were after her father.
She gave me to understand that the doctor considered
him in great danger, from an internal attack of gout,
and then the hissing laugh was clear and discordant

H 3



64 A CHARACTER.

as ever, and I felt inclined angrily to ask her if she
had any heart at all.

The thin cook then brought me a cup of coffee,
and told me with the most inconceivable unconcern,
“ that she believed for true old massa would go dead
soon.”

I might have suspected that Mr. Walker’s best
interests would have been neglected at such a time.
I might have been assured that no one there would
feel concern for the immortal part about to leave its
frail tenement, but such utter want of feeling for
the father and master I was not prepared to meet.
I saw it all. He had lived at war with his domestic
circle; he had ruled by fear, and affection in
trembling had flown away from that household.

But still, Mrs. Walker: if all were unconcerned
woman’s enduring love would triumph !

I wish in the present instance I could carry out
this principle. I have known affection, through
cold neglect and bitter unkindness, flourish luxu-
riantly, twining its tendrils round the very tree
whose shadow was death ; but sometimes—the truth
must be told—sometimes it is crushed and so cruelly
trampled on, that it cannot rise again.

We will, however, leave these reflections for the
present, and go on to the sick man’s room.

As a minister, I had often visited the chamber of



A CHARACTER. 65

suffering—the bed of death. I had seen love and
erief vainly trying to arrest the progress of their
common enemy, and now, as Bella put her hand on
the venetianed door, I fancied I heard some one
sobbing, and, strange as it may seem, the very sup-
position relieved me. There was, then, one sorrow-
ful heart in that home circle, that would sigh forthe
familiar step, the missing tone; one who would feel
life less glad when he was taken away.

Slowly we entered the room, and immediately
opposite the door lay Mr. Walker, in a small four-
posted bedstead.

His fine features, though much attenuated,
appeared more classical than ever, and his long grey
hair being kept in control by his nightcap, showed
his wide high forehead. There was no mosquito
net, but from the upper part of the framework of
the bedstead hung divers kinds of harness, riding
whips, and driving whips, whilst across the head-
board. swords were inversely placed.

Near the window was a puncheon of rum, which
served as a table.

Mr. Walker was sleeping when I entered, and his
breath made the peculiar noise which I had mistaken
for sobs.

At the foot of his bed sat Mrs. Walker. She
greeted me with the same depressing composure.



66 A CHARACTER.

There certainly was no visible sign of distress, and
from her employment, which was novel-reading, I
judged there could be no great internal sadness.

I watched Mr. Walker as he slept. There was
occasionally a quivering thrill on his face, as if, in
sleep he was suffering.

I cannot bear, even at this distance of time, to
think of the indifference with which Mrs. Walker
looked on all this. It is sad to see the heart broken,
bleeding, torn to pieces by the tempest of affliction,
but sadder far to see it unmoved under the chastening
hand of the Almighty.

Drawing towards me a low stool, I sat beside the
dying man, and took his feverish hand in mine.

How comfortless everything seemed. The back
door of the apartment opened on a yard, where, on
some low cashaw bushes, clothes were spread to dry,
and the fowls, unrebuked, walked in and out of the
chamber.

‘“‘The doctor must have given him some composing
draught,” said Mrs. Walker, looking at her husband,
‘“‘for he has been much more tranquil for the last
two or three days,” and then she brought many
charges against him, and complained of the martyr-
dom she had often been called upon to endure from
his impetuous disposition.

I knew that for years she had bowed under his



A CHARACTER. 67

oppression, but I sighed to think how every spark of
affection must have been extinguished, ere she could
at such a time speak so disparagingly of the husband
of her youth.

And yet, she had once loved him with fervour.
She had listened for his homeward step, and with
throbbing heart had welcomed his return.

Oh, better far for death to break the chain of
earthly love, than for the corroding rust of indiffe-
rence gradually to consume it, but still better when,
one in faith and hope, we learn to bear each other’s
burdens, and being heirs together of the grace of
life, look forward to the blessed time when we shall
sit together in heavenly places.

When I turned towards Mr. Walker his eyes were
open. He pressed my hand, and thanked me for
coming, adding that he was undeserving of such
kindness.

‘‘ There is something more than an opiate at work
here,” I thought, and I inwardly prayed that it
might be so. I hopefully remembered the Prophet's
words—

‘‘They also that erred in spirit shall come to
understanding, and they that murmured shall learn
doctrine.”

‘Jesus saith unto her, ‘Mary,’” he slowly
repeated. ‘‘Oh, Mr. Scott, you can scarcely tell



68 A CHARACTER.

what comfort those words brought to my soul.
There was love in the tone, and she knew her
master. He has spoken to me in love,” he con-
tinued, and the tears rolled down his cheeks, “ and
now I know that I am poor, and wretched, and
miserable, and blind, and naked. My good works!
What an idea!—all sin-stained and polluted as my
best actions are.’

Then partially rising, and supporting himself on
his left arm, in a voice that almost startled me from
its solemnity, —

‘But he has wrought out a perfect righteousness
for me,” he said; ‘‘ he has redeemed us from the curse
of the law, being made a curse for us.”

Here, then, was the work accomplished at which
I had so vainly laboured; accomplished without
even man’s instrumentality. Prayerfully had he
studied Minny’s bible, and redeeming love had
melted the hard impenetrability of his soul, and in
the softened heart-soil, humility was the first plant
that appeared. I am sure he thought himself the
chief of sinners. The change was wonderful. I
could only silently look at the altered expression of
his countenance: all fear had passed away. There
he lay—he who through life had been restless and
disquieted, painfully irritable in the slightest illness,
now calm in acute suffering, looking forward from



A CHARACTER. 69

that miserable room, with a hope full of immortality,
to the Heavenly City.

‘Tf any man among you seemeth to be wise, let
him become a fool, that he may be wise.”

Mr. Walker seemed to lie as a little child at the
feet of Jesus, and in a manner that I have seldom
met with, spoke of the Saviour as near and present
with him.

I have often mourned a want of this realising
love, even amongst sincere Christians. I have
watched the affectionate wife, whose eyes grew
tearful at the very mention of a passing anxiety of
her husband’s, listen with unaccountable coldness to
the tale of Calvary. And yet we should be indig-
nant if our love to God were doubted. We walk by
sight, not by faith; our affections do not go forth as
they should to Him we have not seen; no marvel,
then, that there are so many mourners in Zion, for
with lukewarm spirits such as these, the joy un-
speakable can never dwell. These things ought not
so to be.

Mr. Walker regretted very much the sad way in
which he had neglected his family, and we prayed
together for his wife and daughter.

it was a stormy night: sudden heavy showers,
with much lightning. There was a great deal of



70 A CHARACTER.

woodland at the back of the house, and the lizards
croaked, the snakes hissed, the crickets chirped, and
the cashaw trees threw heavily against the venetians
their burden of rain-drops.

I sat by Mr. Walker all night, and the lamp was
dimly burning when the grey dawn of a cloudy
morning—an unusual thing between the tropics—
made the desolate apartment look more wretched
than ever.

Oh, how I pitied Mr. Walker—no heart was there
to watch over him in yearning love. Mrs. Walker
was in the hall; Bella was in bed; the nurse was
sleeping soundly. The dogs began to bark, and the
cocks vehemently to crow.

Mr. Walker murmured Minny’s name; then he
told me he was dying, but begged me not to call any
one. He looked on the eastern sky, and smilingly
said, —

“The night is far spent, the day is at hand.”

And so it was. The everlasting morning was even
then dawning on his soul. Another moment, and he
was no longer an inmate of that desolate house. He
had done with fear and care and sorrow, and entered
into the joy of his Lord.

Would you believe, that the next day things went
on much as usual, only some preparations were made



A CHARACTER. 71

for Mr. Walker’s interment in the evening. Bella
actually whispered a laugh when I bade her adieu,
and Smudge’s teeth looked joyous as ever.

I was grieved beyond measure at the indifference
of that household. Not one there mourned for the
broken chain. Mrs. Walker looked grave, but it
was the studied appearance of one who thought it
proper to be serious. I could not mistake—no grief
was there.

Mr. Walker was beyond the reach of all this cold-
ness. He had, in the House of his God, a place and
a name, better than that of sons and daughters, even
an everlasting name, that could not be cut off.



CHAPTER III.

Che Forsaken Bride,

[ was staying at a small coffee plantation for change
of air, having almost promised my dear wife, from
whom I was to be absent for two months, that I
would remain idle, when I received a pressing letter
from Mr. Simmons, a gentleman with whom I had
lately become acquainted, earnestly entreating me to
visit his daughter. Such a summons I could not
conscientiously disregard, and early the next morn-
ing I was on my way to that gentleman’s lowland
residence. The mountains were all around me, and
in the sea of mist from which their summits indis-
tinctly rose, they appeared like islands studding
an Indian Archipelago. At a winding of the road
I looked down on the rising sun, which was “as a



THE FORSAKEN BRIDE. 73

bridegroom coming out of his chamber, rejoicing as a
strong Man to run a race.”

Rapidly I descended the hill, and long ere the
glittering dews were dried by the scorching sun-
beams, I had arrived at the low dwelling.

Oh, that house! It was deep in the country—in
Jamaica’s country—and those who have never left
England can form no idea of such solitude. The
wild cashaw trees surrounded the mansion; nay,
through the floor of the back piazza, one of those trees
in its unruly growth had protruded, and was flourish-
ing there in unabashed luxuriance. “I must be
mistaken,’’ I thought, for I had never before visited
Mr. Simmons, as ascending the broken stone steps I
entered the hall, through the massive mahogany
doors, which from their encasement in dust, seemed
not to have been closed for years. As I advanced
into the dreary room not a living being was to be
seen. It might have been sixty feet in length. A
very old-fashioned sofa stood at one end, whilst the
other was adorned by a black mahogany side-board,
heavily carved. I say black, because time had taken
from the mahogany its usual colour, and the cocoa-
nut oil with which it had been profusely polished,
no doubt added in some degree to its sable appear-
ance. A dining table much in the same ponderous

I 2



74 THE FORSAKEN BRIDE.

style, and a few high-backed chairs, complaies the
furniture of the apartment.

I walked up and down in the hopes that my boots
would summon some one to arrest the progress of an
intruder. There were two large mirrors on each
side of the arched doorway; mirrors did I say? they
reflected but shadows of the forms presented to them,
for as I stood before them that which met my gaze
would have been an excellent copy for one of those
spiritual beings which our superstitious fancies clothe
in shadows from the tomb.

Turning from these looking-glasses to the old-
fashioned windows, I saw traced with a diamond on
one of the small panes, ‘‘ Bertha Hamilton, 1788,”
and underneath in a somewhat stronger hand was
written, ‘‘ Horace Manley.”

And can it be, I thought, that this fragile glass has
stood unharmed for so many years, whilst the young,
the strong, and the beautiful, have been swept away
like grass by the scythe of death? There were many
panes broken around; why then was this preserved ?
Age had not at that time quelled the romance of my
disposition, and how far my imagination might have
carried me I know not, but at that moment a loud
“Hi!” arrested my attention, and looking round, I
saw a large black woman with a red turban and long



THE FORSAKEN BRIDE. 75

gold ear-rings. She wore a white cotton body, a
very short dark blue petticoat, and neither shoe nor
stocking covered her feet. I believe I looked startled,
for she smiled, and her very white teeth relieved in
a measure the monotonous appearance of her coun-
tenance.

‘My name is Scott,” I said, ‘and I have come
here, at the request of Mr. Simmons, to see his
daughter, who is, I understand, dangerously ill.”

She did not appear in the least to comprehend me,
but after staring at me for some time, she said, “‘ Me
go bring Missis.”’

After waiting for more than three quarters of an
hour in this very desolate apartment, a lady entered,
and introducing herself as Mrs. Simmons, took her
seat beside me. Although many years had passed
since I visited Logwood Hall, I perfectly remember
that lady’s appearance. She was rather stout, and
might have been forty-eight or fifty years of age.
Her face was very red, but this colour did not con-
fine itself to her cheeks—forehead, nose, all wore the
same hue. She had on a bright green silk dress,
made quite in the fashion of other days, and exceed-
ingly tumbled. There was an ill-conducted, or if I
may so express myself, a sort of plebeian hauteur in
her manner ; it was pride without dignity, gaucherie,
but not modesty. Her thoughts, I soon discovered,

I 3



76 THE FORSAKEN BRIDE.

seldom ranged beyond her stores and her poultry
yard, her unruly servants, and her lack of town
luxuries in her secluded situation. During breakfast
time her tone was unchanged; it was one unvaried
note of murmur in the midst of abounding comforts.
Whenever I attempted to express my sense of the
excellent repast I was enjoying, it seemed but to
touch a chord in her heart that vibrated to reminis-
cences of better times; and when she had completed
her hearty meal, for she plentifully partook of the
many dishes in spite of their culinary inferiority, she
rose from the table without one breath of thankful-
ness to him who had thus blessed her in her basket
and her store, and as she stood in the back piazza,
giving orders for the day, the same querulous
cadence fell on my ear, and I could not help think-
ing of that great gain, even godliness with content-
ment, which is the portion of those who love the law
of their Lord.

“Mr. Scott,’ she said, rather abruptly, ‘“‘ my
daughter Grace is very anxious to see you, but I
am afraid you must postpone your visit to her till
to-morrow, as she is in a state of great nervous
excitement; her disease is considered to be con-
sumption, and Dr. Cole says she must be kept from
all unnecessary agitation, I would therefore caution
you to say nothing that may alarm her. She has



THE FORSAKEN BRIDE. 77

ever been a kind and dutiful child to me, and our
rector, Mr. Morton, told me she was as pure as an
angel.”

“OQ, Madam,” I quickly replied, “that cannot be;
the deep stain of sin is on us when we enter the
world, and unless cleansed in the precious blood of
Christ, we can never hope to enter the kingdom of
heaven.”

“Then,” she said, ‘you are one of those sancti-
fied people who mean to tell her that she must suffer
eternally, because she will not profess to be better
than her fellow-creatures ;” and quite forgetting the
courtesy of manner which good taste renders so ne-
cessary in refined society, she turned from me with
ill-concealed disgust.

‘‘Grace’s grandmother,” at length she observed,
“put some strange notions in my poor child’s head,
and this makes her so anxious to see you.”

I thought of the soft answer that turneth away
wrath, and looking at her as complacently as I could,
‘‘ My message, dear Madam,”’ I gently said, “‘is one
of mercy, not of wrath, the Lord hath anointed me
to preach good tidings unto the meek, he hath sent
me to bind up the broken-hearted.”

Something very like a “‘ phsaw”’ escaped her lips,
but as if recollecting herself, she converted it into a
sigh.



78 THE FORSAKEN BRIDE.

The day seemed long and weary, but at length the
purple twilight began to rest on the flat cashaw trees,
and across the bright line of crimson in the west the
bats were flitting to and fro. Dinner was served in
the abundant style of Jamaica’s olden days; a pro-
fusion of yams, a large roasting-pig at the head of
the table, whilst a couple of guinea birds, with no
inconsiderable portion of pepper pot, completed our
first course.

Mr. Simmons was a heavy-looking, quiet man.
His manner seemed to be a sort of compelled resig-
nation to an inevitable fate. After partaking plenti-
fully of Jamaica cane beverage, he became more com-
municative.

“Poor Grace!” he said. ‘‘ Well, what must be
must.”’ |

Here, I thought, is a field of usefulness before me,
they know nothing of the comfort of religion, nothing
of the privilege of being able to cast their cares on
Jesus; I was his ambassador, and yet I felt spell-
bound. At last I ventured to ask the old gentleman
if his daughter were in a happy state of mind.

‘“‘ Yes, sir, yes, I believe so,” he said, “and yet,
poor child, she has been troubled of late.”

‘Has she any conviction of sin, any sense of the
need of a Saviour’s justifying righteousness and par-
doning love?’’ I enquired.



Full Text

PAGE 1



PAGE 2

- II. Ol'LIJ> 0 N : DAn.'rON &: C 9 HOLBORl'I B 1M

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THE MOUNTAIN PASTOR. BY MRS. HENRY LYNCH, A.UTHOR OP "MAUDE EFFINGHAM," "TlIB F"MTT,Y BUULCH BE," &c. &c .. The strength of the billtl is Ilia also."-PSALM XOV. LONDON: PUBLISHED FOR THE AUTHOR BY DAR TON & CO., H 0 LBO R N H ILL. 1852

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TO TUB ltIGUT nONOURABLE rHl : DOWAGER COUNTESS OF SHA1"TESBURY, TillS LITrLE VOLU/E IS BY PERlUSSION INSCRIBED, AS A. SALL rOKEN OF SINCERE RESPECT, BY THE A UTHOlt. II 2

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...

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PREFACE. BY THE LORD BISHOP OF JAMAICA. AT the request of an authoress, not altogether un known to the literary and religious portion of the community, I am about to write a few lines as prefatory to the little volume which is, at the ap proaching season fraught with so many holy assoo ciations, submitted to the intelligence of a discerning public. Of the domestic occurrences in the magni1i.cent but stricken island which constitutes the principal portion of my extensive and distant diocese, little has been known or inquired into by the mother country. The shattered fortunes, severed ties, the ruined households, and the broken hearts which have, b

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, PREFACE. under God's inscrutable cOllDsels, been coincident with one of the noblest and most consequential acts that Christianity and philanthropy ever dictated, have passed with little record or observation, beyond the land which they have immediately affected .And yet to those who love to trace the hand of a guiding and protecting God over the humblest and most depressed of his creation-to those who delight to read the vindication of his unsleeping mercy in the history of families and individuals, on whom fear and sudden desolation have come, with all the fearful vicissitudes incidental to a tropical climate, and the transient state of our West Indian popu lations; these records of the "Mountain :Pastor" can scarcely fail to convey a vivid and edifying interest. Of the sustaining power of that holy religion which it is the main design of the following pages to instil and illustrate, the amiable and bereaved lady to whom I have adverted, is herself a striking example.

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pREFACE. A mid sorrows of a complicated nature, and cala mities of more than ordinary aggravation, she has been enabled by Divine assistance to realize the consolations which nothing but the Gospel of Christ can afford, and to ascertain by painful experience, that a Father of the fatherless, a Judge of the widow, is God in his holy habitation. The results of this experience and the lesson which it teaches, are bodied forth in all the appa rent truthfulness of deed and of reality, in the fol lowing pages. That these may be sanctified to the author's own temporal and eternal benefit, and to that of the readers to whom they are commended, is the part ing pmyer of one, who is now on the eve of embark ation on his return to the scenes which the authoress has beautifully delineated, and to his share in the labours which she has so feelingly described. AUDREY G. JAMAICA. 107, GLOSTER TERRA-OF., HYDE PARK. 1sT NoVRYBu, 1851.

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Snttobnrlorq tdter. CoVE away, dear young friends, come away from busy, exciting London its crowded streets, and stately squares; turn your backs on the Crystal Palace, that stands in itself a wonder, holding in its arms of glass the marvellous works of art; turn from the multitude, which can with difficulty be nnmbered, as they stand looking on the power, that God has given unto man: bid farewell to all thi s and for what purpose? to cross the trac kless ocean, and to scarch with mo in a far distant island of the West for the home of the Mountain Pastor. Up and away then into the highlands of the tropics. The rond is steep, and can only be ascended on horse back or on foot. The mountains, that, Itt a distance, D 3

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n lNTl
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TNTRODUCTORY LETTER. Vll stormy path; and the voice of those waters murmurs of Fame; of the powerful intellect that, making its way through difficulties, compels the world to admire, but that unwisely throws from it, in the haughty consciousness of superiority, the sweet breathIDgs of affection, the gentle ties of household love. There are bright days in the very heart of England's smoke-darkened capital; days, when the sun, awaking in a benevolent moo"d, throws scmethiDg of his glsd ness on every dreary alley and 1lDhealthy lane; when even the dark shadows of the dingy corner give by contrast a greater glory to the sunbeam; when from the very river banks the mist retreats discomfited that do not follow each other in bright succession, but that, few and far between, we prize as the friendless prize sympathy, or paupers gold. But how can wc describe the light and shadow of Jamaica's mvuntain scenery, where motion is beauty, where loveliness consists in change where sun beams and shadows, though of natures so opposite, lU'C sporting togother. Tho dull universal fog of

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INTRODuctORY LE'ITEJ!. V1ll England's November is there utterly unknown j but thick white cloude come rolling down the mountain aide, and stand tremblingly over the gigantic trees, refreshing but scarcely darkening the foliage. Now a beam is piercing that dim recess, and shadow is on the rock which, a little while ago, was radiant with light. The sportive sun-rays seem determined to convince us that they would lose their beauty if un associated with darkness, and we know that the loveliness of the Christian character is never more conspicuous than in the cloudy day of sorrow. This was a rema.rk of the Mountain Pastor's. Once more, then, up and away. Look at that tiny stream, ste-'lling almost noiselessly, with silvery foot steps, from the wooded height. Now we lose sight of it, but we know its way by the fresh verdure in its track-by the flowers that cluster on its very course. Its bed is of ferns: soft and beautiful, they try to lure the streamlet to rest amongst them; and we are reminded of gentle spirits of whom the world speaks not, whose brows the laurel chaplet has never circled, but whose glad bright looks of love give

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INTRODUCTORY IX home its sweetest influence; whose Dames ambition has never heard, but the drooping head is raised as they pass, and the mourner's eye glistens through its tears at the whispered accents of consolation. Now, dear friends, onward again, and higher, higher into the thrilling silence of those lofty mountn, ins on again To see a beauty in the stirring leaf, And find r.aJm thoughts beneath the whispering trees." But what trees? the delicate lilae and drooping laburnum? Not so; this wild forest land owns no such children. There are the feathery bamboo and the majestic yacca; the magnificent cedar, and the -gigantic cotton tree. How intense is the silence-ehow profound the solitude! Eternity seems stamped on all magnificence God "The strength of the hills is His! Look down the tremendous steep into that ravine the river-course below. In His hands are the deep places of the earth. Yes; who but the Mighty One could support by an invisible hand those stupendous trees as they bend from their

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fNTRODUCTORY LETfER. dizzy height over the steep chasm Here and there arc patches of rock-land, almost void of foliage, and yet on these very spots delicately-tinted flowers unfold their leaves, and arc to that sterilc ground as bright smiles and kindly words to the desolate. Onwards again, and higher. TW"ll and look down on the great swelling sea that seems to rise as it spreads into the far horizon, covered with light as with a garment, and the cloudless heaven stretched out as a curtain above, declaring the glory of God. Lock back on the mountains. No snows ever crown their summits. As well may the heart freeze into indifference under the warm bright looks of love, as frost find life beneath that tropic sun. Yet those fields of gleaming white, what are they? The air is filled with a rich perfume. Look again. We have an-ived at some coffee plantations, and the pure white blossoms clustering together make a field of shining pearls How delicately beautiful they stand; no stain of dust is on them, for the mountain rain has pwi.fied all within its influence. The dark

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INTRODUCTORY LETTER. Xl green foliage presents a striking contrast to the white flower; whilst underneath, the wild straw berries gI"OW in myriads, lured into life and strength ened by the shelter of those glossy shrubs: and SO the wounded and shrinking spirit will rally and revive under the sweet canopy of home! But the YOlmtnin Pastor's dwelling?On, on, through the deep wood shades. Day declines; we know it by the crimson tints that dye the dark Yahoo trees, as their boughs wave grace fully in the cooler air; we know it by the golden western light that the intertwining boughs cannot shut out, and by the fragrance of the night-flower, which the twilight in passing has awakened; we know it by the rich blazonry on the silken palm tree, and by the intense purple of tho mountain shadows. We me yet in time. In the very hemi of this world of solitude, with a halo of solemnity around it, and an ahnospherc of peace within, stands the Rectory. Come gently on. Twilight giveR up her short

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Xli INTRODUcrORY LETTER. reign, and night rapidly advances in all her jewellery of stars. We are not too late. There is a light in the pleasant library, and already we feel the spell of home. Now we must introduce you to the good old man. The silvery locks fall on his temples, but as spring flowers rise up and bloom round the tree that has looked on mnny winters, so grandchildren smile, a lovely band, round the Mountain Pastor, and call him blessed. That servant of the Lord has had a long pil grimage; but ask him, and he will tell you that he has not been desolate; ask hi m, and he will tell you of a Comforter who has been with him even the Spirit of Truth, whom the world cannot receive. The aged Pastor is now too feeble to engage in any ministerial duties. Nobly in the might of his Master he has borne the burden and heat of the day; and now that his strength is failing, still wishing to be useful, he has evening meetings in his piazza, and

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INTRODUcroRY LETtER. Xlll by relnting some of tbe occurrences of bis past life, be endeavours te convince the young around bim tbat those only are blessed wbo serve the Lord; that godliness witb contentment is great gain, having the promise of the life that now is, as well as of that which is te come. We are not too late. We will take our scat by that low window, and wateh the land breeze sporting with the thousands of wild roses on its path, and stealing the fragrance from the starry jasmin. We will listen te the Mountain Paster as he relates his recollections of the past, and connected with all that is solemn and holy shall be our memories of the Mountain Land of Jamaica c

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THE MOUNTAIN PASTOR CHAPTER r. lh m rmhranm o f I AM It native of J Itmaica, and was not sent to England for school education till I was twelve years of age; but I had a very worthy gentleman as tutor, and I can never forget his patient efforts to make his instructions easy, nor his forbearance with my whims Itnd petulltnces, for I must own that I was, in some measure, a spoiled ohild Our general residence was in the lowlands, at a long flat house near the sea. I have at this moment cleal'ly before me the interior of that mansion There is our sitting-room-I mean the room appropriated to my tutor and myself. Ono window looks towards c 2

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2 RE>rElOlIUNCES OP the mountAins, over which the silvery mist is steal ing aa evening approaches, making them look morc distant but moro beautiful than ever The bats begin their gnm boIs in tho twilight, and the mos quitoes their low dirge. Now the sky is gorgeously red, and I look away to wateh my pigeons, whieh are soaring farther than ever, over the waate of caahaw trees, yet regularly returning, aa if spell-bound by the sight of home; and when I look at the western heaven again, the red haa vanished, all is dim and sombre I learned in after life that many bright things fade thus quickly. Then the stars peep out, at first timidly, but as if gathering courage from tho sight of each other, they grow bold and brilliant; and I have learnt since, blessed be God, that there is light for the darkest hour, if we but seek it, that comfort is promised in the heaviest aftliction. ]lut I waa telling you of the little room. There waa a low couch covered with blue damw, and at its side a small ottoman in the same dress. A mahogany table, with deep drawers, and some stAins of ink on its surface, stood almost in the centre of the room. Immediately above the couch was a small bookcase : this contAined all Mr. Maple's books. There were two broad shelves between the windows that faced the west, and there lay, not

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CHILDUOOD. 3 always as orderly as they should be, my school books, slates, &c. How distinctly at this moment I see it all before me. The door towards the balcony is always open I am so accustomed to the measured, melancholy chime of the waves, that my whispered lessons keep exact time to their voice of waters. Now Mr. Maple is lying on the sofa, with his dark blue morocco covered Pocket Bible in his hands. Sometimes he sighs deeply, and then again his whole face is illu minated with a smile, which, even then I know, is not kindled by any earthly joy. He is in commuDion with the Father of Spirits, and I walk gently to the window, through which a bold orange tree is peeping-the land breeze has awakened all its fragrance I play with the snowy blossoms till I am lost in thought. I wonder if my Aunt Davis is a Christian, and if she is, why she is in every respect so different from my tutor, for I have discovered something in him that speaks without language, and I can as easily tell that he is a servant of God, as, blindfolded, I should know that an orange tree is before me from its fragrance. But I have other memories of that old house. There is the hall, or large sitting-room, with its high-backed uncomfortable sofa, notbing like ours. The windows with their dark framework of maho-c 3

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4 REMEMBRANCES OF gany, and the heavy doors looking as if they required the united strength of the family to open them. 'fhere was the unceiled roof; and the walls, which went no farther than they could go in an upright position, seemed to be giving us all a lesson to stop in the plans we were pursuing, if we found that by continuing in any of them we should be compelled to act crookedly. The sideboard which has long been stationed at the end of this general sitting-room, with its ugly black faces, the large nose-rings in which constitute the handles of the drawers. It is early morning. Rutland, the boy groom, brings our horses to the door; my pony Dapper is impatient for its little master, and frolica and paws till we set off. MI. Maple always begins the day with a cheering word of kindness, and these are as dew to the youthful spirit. Off we go, cantering pleasantly down to the sea-shore. I had very seriously offended my Aunt Davis the evening before; she had actually left the room in indigna tion, muttering something about the inconsistency of those who professed to be Christians not keeping children under proper control, and I thought she looked at Mr. Maple when she said this, and I thought he colored, but I am sure he must have had good reasons for not interfering in this matter. My aunt's religion had ever seemed to me sometbing not

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CJI1LDRoon. 5 real; it was the imitation dress, looking very like that which it copies to a careless eye, but quite unable to stand the wear and tear of temptation, or the waters of trial, should they roll over it. .And this said dress never appeared to greater disad van tage than when, as on the present occasion, it came in contact with the ma, ntle of humility which Mr. Maple ever wore. A.unt Davis has an assured man ner, aud the very position of her head, though she may be silent, seems to tell you that whatever may be the fa, ilings of her associates, she cannot be very far in the wrong. Young as I am, I can discover this, and I take a delight in teazing her. Had Mr. Maple, on the morning of which I speak, angrily commanded me to apologize to my aunt, I think I should stubbornly have opposed his direc tions But to resist Mr. Maple was impossible. He had a way of winding himself round your affec tions, and such a convincing power in argument, which, however, was always maintained with the greatest gentleness, that you were borne on to his way of thinking by the current of his remonstrances, forcibly, yet almost imperceptibly. I have never since, on life's journey, met with anyone exactly like bim, and I do not think this was merely II childish estimate of his character.

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6 RE7.rElI[DRANCES OF Long before the ride is over, I am anxious to be reconciled to my aunt. Immediately on my return home I fly to her bedroom, and seek her forgiveness; she speaks kindly, says something about her willing ness to endure, and then bids me call Bunchy to get her chocolate, with its accompaniment of salt fish, for aunt Davis always breakfa.ts in her room. I t.hink I see her now, with her thick cap, round which a handkerchief is tied after the manner of the negroes, her full petticoat, and her short white dres8ing-gown, for you must recollect I am speaking of many years ago. She was much older than my mother, and, according to her own account, every thing had gone wrong with her from the commence ment of her pilgrimage. She had married, but had been long separated from her husband, and though my dear mother always carefully avoided any allusion to my uncle, yet I often heard almt Davis giving admonitions to my pretty cousin Annie to remain in single happiness. Sometimes Annie would look arehly at her, at other times she would blush so p9infully that I have playfully covered her face with her own little black apron. What a sunbeam that dear girl was to us all. I am sure that aunt Davis found happiness in the effort to be unhappy, or mther, I should say, it was !l great source of consolation to her if she BUC-

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l CBIT.DHOOD. 7 cceded in impressing anyone with the idea that she endured a sort of domestic martyrdom, and was unfortunately out of the station it wonld so halVe suited her to. fill. She was thoroughly uncom./;'ortable when all went on smoothly. She would begin the day by complaining to my mother that the household arrangements did not suit her. "If I managed these things, Mary," she would say, "all would be light." And when my pOOl' mother, in creole list lessness, would answer, "Well, Dinah, you are quite at liberty to do so," my aunt would assume the air of no ordinary sufferer, and reply, "No, sister; it is not my house; I am not mistress only a visitor!" as if it were my mother's fault that such were the case, and then she would swing her foot vehemently, in that peculiar way which only West Indians can understand, and wipe her eyes, (in which I remember there were no tears at all) with a white cambric pocket handkerchief. My poor aunt was only truly sad when she could find no listeners. I have known her tell a half civilized African, who scarcely understood a word of English, a whole tale of grievances. I think the sound of her own voice must at such times have been soothing to her, for even when she was walking alone in the piazza, I have caught the dissatisfied

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8 REMEMllRANCES o}' tone, and heard the murmur, "Not mistress, only visitor," &c. I cannot Bay my mother was idle, for she was continually plying her needl e How could she always find employment? There was an oval basket full of stockings ever at her side; these, half reclining on the uncomfortable couch, she would go on darn, darn, darn, for hours. Once, when I asked her what she thought of whilst thus employed? Literally nothing, sometimes," she answered; and then I was lost in contemplation, trying to discover if the mind could ever be unemployed. This would have been a monotonous life for me, had it not been for Mr. Maple and dear, laughter loving Annie, who continually spent a week or a fortnight with us. My Father I could not remember. He died when I was an infant, and it was a heavenly hand that led Mr. Maple to be my tutor. With him it was line upon line, and precept upon precept, here a little and there a little. The morning ride, the evening drive, all were made lessons by him to lead my young heart to its Creator. I knew, child as I was, that there were times when Mr. Maple loved his Redeemer with joy unspeakable. I well knew that, though many deridingly called him "saint,"

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CnILDHOOD. 9 mistaking, or rather trying to make others believe that they mistook his calm and quiet maDDer for hypocrisy, that all was real with him, and, though apparently so thoughtless, I had discovered that peace such as the world giveth not was his portion. Children thiDk much more than we imagine, and very often when I sat with my Latin Grammar in my hand, I was clearly tracing to myself the diffe rence between the reality of religion and its pro fession, and though I whispered the grammatical examples to myself, in exact measure with the chiming waves, the living examples of my theory were :Mr. Maple and aunt Davis. I remember well a sharp attack of fever that I had. My dear, dear, mother! .All her languor and listlessness forsook her, and she was immediately transformed into the unwearying, gentle, yet active nurse. The dingy room opens on the back piazza; the large four-posted bedetead, in which I seem small indeed; the high-backed dimity-covered chair, where my mother sits, with her aDxious sorrowful face. My cheeks am burning, my lips are parched, I hear the hurried beating of my heart, the doctor looks grave; I cannot lie in any position comfortably, every part of my body is in pain. Then dreams come half-waking dreams: there is danger, and my great desire is to have Mr. Maple near me. Do -

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10 ltEMEMIlRAlICllS OF I dream it, or does he tell me, there is One grroter than he, ablo and wilIing to saw to the uttermost all who come unto God through him. I try to look away from my fears to Jesus, and calmer visions steal over me, and again I fancy my dear tutor gently says, "I will strengthen thee, yea, I will help thee, yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness. I think I must have slept for more than a day, for when I opened my eyes the grey light of morning was ste.ling into the room. My mother had fallen asleep at my side; she was still holding the large Spanish fan with which she had been endeavouring to k ee p the mosquitoes from me, and, with the deepening light, I saw that traces of tears werc on her pale cheeks I must have been a ehild of a contemplative turn of mind, for even then I was musing on the depths of a mother's love. Why had Ilunt Davis gone calmly to bed? why WM myoId nurse sleeping comfortably in her corner, whilst my mother had evidently not taken off her dress for many days? And even then my childish heart made answer, There is in all this cold and hollow world no fount of love 80 deep as that which springs within a mother's heart." The light seemed "!"ery slow in coming thllt morn-

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CllILDnOOD. 11 ing; it could not be weary, for my young thOUgllts had given it a rught of rest. I could just see, as I lay, the mountain tops in the distance, and there the lazy dawn seemed to linger, dressing their summits in all sorts of grotesque shadows. At length a sud den beam of golden light flares on the old-fashioned mirror, till it seems on flame; then, as if in a merry mood, the laughing sunbeam settles for a moment on the earrings of my sleeping nurse, the next instant it was coiling round the half-empty medicine bottles, transforming a dingy looking mixture into a bright rose-coloured draught. How long I should have watched its gambols I know not, but just at that mo ment my mother (awakened by the negroes who were passing under our windows on their way to work, merrily singing wild snatches of A mean song) hastened to give me some nourishment. I think I must haye slept again, for the next thing I remember is a strong sensation of hunger, and the chicken and jelly of which hy turns I ravenously partook. Mr. Maple prays with me, and in that solemn thanks giving I feel that my mother is earnestly joining. I had never seen her so moved before, and during that day, whilst I was lying with my eyes shut, I was much struck by the humble way in which she applied to Mr. Maple for instruction concerning some passages from myoId brown Bible, which slJe D

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12 llEMEYJlllANC>:S OF had been attentively reading. I could not, at that time, have put my thoughts in words, but I am sure I was reflecting in my childish way, how anxiety and trial were used as messengers to bring us to God. My memory presents very faithfully to me aunt Davis, as she walks in and out of my room, taking up the watch and putting it down agajn, opening the Venetians and closing them rapidly when she found how painfully the sudden light affected me; beginning many sentences and leaving allllnfinished; giving orders to the nurse in It clear loud whisper, you might bav e heard at the other end of the house, and which orders my nurse kn ew, from long expe rience, it would be us eless to tell her had been before given by my mother. Poor aunt Davis! Then she bustles out of the room, with a startling Hush!" to the girl who is very quietly and lazily rubbing the floor, convinced, I am quite cert.a.in, that her excessive vigilance, and the quiet she has kept in the establishment, although she is not mis tress, but ouly a visitor, has preserved my life. I know, by all these signs, that I must be progressing in health, for I will do my aunt the justice to say, that whilst I was considered in any danger, real concern for me kept her in the background. I tbink, bowever, tbat she comes forward now with increased

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CII n,DllOOD. 13 energy, refreshed and strengthened by the relaxatioll she has had. "Mary," she says, as she makes the sixth forenoon entry into my devoted bedchamber, If I were you, I would do what Dr. Parry ad vised, and write on tho slate all the medicines that were to be given." "Charlie is ouly taking bark at pre sent," replies my mother, with a great effort at composure. I always fancied my aunt breathed louder than anyone else, and as she places her hand heavily on my forehead I feign sleep, and would have persevered in this deception had I not been forced to open my eyes by the sudden gripe she gives my wrist as she proceeds to feel my pulse. "Mamma," I said, restlessly and pettishly, for I was beginning to be weary of the confinement of that dark chamber, "Mamma, may I have my paint-box if I om bettor to-morrow? I connot forget the expression of my aunt's faco when I made this request. It was angry, and solemu, and diadainful. "You are still on the very threshold of eternity," she said, and I fancied she anxiously looked for some expression of alarm on my countenance, and that being disappointed, she went on more gently to add, "and it grieves me to find that your mind still runs on trillas such as thesc There is inftammntion about you at this moment. 1) 2

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14 REMEMBU.\NCES 0 .1:< Indeed, Mary," she continued, turning to my mother, he must not have bark." .And all this conversation was carried on with a rapidity of which none but those who knew aunt Davis could form any idea. She spoke of my attack of fever as lwr sorrow, luJr afHiction; my mother' 8 uneasiness, my own discomfort, never once came into the mental calculation in which selfwas always prominent. "These trials are for my good," she would Bay. "We r.annot expect to go on smoothly in this world;" and she certainly was a striking exemplification of her own assertion, for she trampled down the flowers on her path, and then .. murmured that her way was cheerless. I have never been able to find out why she was always in such distress. I rem embe r on this occasion, when my mother p ers isted in giving me the bark, which she affirmed to be really necessary, the conversation ended by my aunt assuring me, that she was not the mistress of the house, only a visitor, and when she left the room her cough had the peculiar tone which I knew meant" Never mind; I ean bear it! " Ma.mma," I said, as my aunt's murmurings grew faint in the distant piazza, "I do wish aunt Davis were not a Christian." My mother expressed her surprise at the uncharitable feeling I had expressed. It suits her so badly to be religious," I continued. "We all have faults, Charlie," said my mother

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CIII I.DaOOD. 15 soothingly, "and I suppose your aunt finds it diffi cult all at oncc to become amiable, but I must confess I know little of these matters," and she sighed deeply. My dear mother! She might indeed have doubted the reality of that piety which so entirely left out of its code the charity that is not easily provoked. She might have said, "lly their fruits ye shall know them. Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles? Mr. Maple had quietly entered during this conver sation. 'raking his seat at tho foot of my bed, he looked at mo thoughtfully for a moment, and then said, "When there is no earnest, secret cry to the Mighty One for aid in the hour of temptation, when there is no effort in the strength of the great High Priest to resist the besetting sin, we have every reason to fear that we have not entered on the con flict of the Christian lifo; but, my dear Charlie," he said, looking tenderly at me, "you will find plenty of work to do within your ow n heart without making it your employment to discover the sins of those around you. The same spirit that tells us to put away strife, enjoins us to be pitiful and to hope all things." And there was, as I have before observed, something so convincing in all this holy man said, that by the time my aunt n.,"1Iin made her appearance, D :3

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16 REMEMBRllICES OF I aID sure I greeted her with one of my sweetest smiles. Then I have other recollections of this time of childhood. The hot months we generally spent at one of our mountain estates, named Mount Orchard. I was always very happy there. It might have been that the cooler air in a measure refreshed me: this cer tainly was the case, but Annie, joyous Annie, was the living spirit of our happiness. Oh, what a con trast there was at our little dinner-table-Aunt Davis sitting on one side, and Annie opposite to her. I have often wondered that no visible ra.in bow appeared, for it certainly was sunlight sbining on cloud, and a rainy cloud, too, for th e least contradic tion would sometimes cause Aunt Davis, in a sort of childish petulance, to shed tears. Annie always accompanied us in our morning rides, and her gladness of heart seemed to Mr. Mapl e as a reviving cordial. It was not levity, but a grateful, thankful feeling that was within her spil-it, as a perennial spring running over and miling all glad witl)in its invigorating influence. It is quite impossible to give you any idea of the brilliant expression that lighted up her eye when Mr. Maple spoke of the lov e of God in Christ. It seemed to tell you t.hat she had tasted the Lord was gracious.

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cnn.nnOOD. 17 The very expression of her face said, as plainly as words could say, "It is a good tiring to give thanks unto the Lord In very early life she had been satisfied with His mercy, and therefore she rejoiced and Wa3 glad all her days. That wild mountajn scenery is still vividly before me. The intensity flf solitude pervades all around. One or two stars still linger on the sky, but the shadows flee away before the gradually advancing morning. Now there is high rock land on each side of our path, and before us are the everlasting bills. Row solemn sounds Mr. Maple's voice as he says, "The mountains may depart, imd the hills be removed, but my kindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of my peace be removed, saith the Lord, that hath mercy on thee." Then again we are in more open country, and we look on the distant soo, far, far below us. I seem at this moment to hear the whispering wood sounds around the mysterious voice of the forest. The red morning is steeping the east in crimson, but though solemnized and subdued in spirit by the magnificent scenery, my thoughts are neither with wave nor sky. Of what are you thinking, Charlie?" kindly asks Mr. Maple. I start as if roused from a dream; lind no wonder

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18 REMEunRANCES OF my tutor makes this inquiry, for I feel that tears are in my eyes. I could not, indeed, fathom my own feelin,,"'S, but of this I am certain, that as we paused there, looking down on the far-spreading mountain land below us, and the distant ocean, I had a strong boding that sorrow was silently spreading its wings over our home happiness. This was not super stition; it was merely that feeling of insecurity that sometimes forces its way into the heart when we are resting on any earthly prop of comfort. Just at this moment suddenly above the golden crested mountains, rises the glorious SU11Not, as in northcrn climes, obscurely bright, But one unclouded blaze of living light. It is true, thero were clouds all around, but clouds so refulgent in the glorious beaming, that they but added to the grandeur and beauty of the scene. The effect was beyond all description The deep glailes were rejoicing in the sunbeams freely scattered over them, whilst the luxuriant foliage immediately around us, and palms and ferns in myriads wore dew-drops as pearl gems in which to welcome the morning. The arid plains in the distant lowlands seemed to bear some part in the universal gladness, and to smile in the rejoicing light, whilst the far

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OR II.DnOOD. 19 mountains had woven of the new-born mys a vest ment of rose and purple. "Thus," said Mr. Mapl e to Annie, "does the Sun of Righteousness arise with healing 00 bis wll,,"'8, enlig htening the dark h eart of man, and making lovely even the des ert W08te of life. The sun gemmed clouds are emblems of the sorrowful heart that r e flects the imag e of its Moster, the light aft\ic tion is almost forgotten in the radiance of the lov e that encircles him; the dew-drop becomes the glis tening gem, the night of weeping lends new beauties to the glories of the morning. I am already preach ing a sermon," he smilingly said. Then the sudden gun was distinctly heard, a8 if its tone were neces sary to proclaim that the sun had risen! We had already lingered longer thaD usual on our morning excursion, and pleasantly we cantered hom e At this moment I seem to hear the mnsical tone of my cousin's laughter. Oh! why did sorrow ever d a rken those happy hours? nut the shadows have passed away. Dearest Anni e with gladness and r e joicing she h08 entered into the King's palace. I am, however, rnnning on too f08t with my tale. During lesson h ours what c hildish stratagems I emp loy e d to d etain Annie in the portico which we used 08 school-room. On hcl' \\'ay from her bed-

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20 ltEHEYBRANCES OF room to the hall she was obliged to pass through this our little study. Sometimes I would entreat her to sec if my 8um were all right. Yr. Yaple would at first make an effort to be particularly engaged, but he would suddenly discover that we were both at fault in our arithmetical calculations, and then some favourite author would be discussed. Oh, what a happy little listener I was! I am sure that children often receive more in struction in this way than from a regular lesson. Annie's parents were living in Kingston, and it was to escape from the gaiety and dissipation there that she so often visited hcr friends in the country. She was sought after and much admired., for indeed she was exceedingly lovely, but with those who were of tho world she felt no eongeniality. No marvel, then, that a strong attachment should spring up between my beloved tutor and the thankful confiding Annie. I do not know which of the two claimed the largest share of my childish admiration Annie, with her soft intelligent eyes, and heavenly smilefor at times it certainly was illuminated by the Christian's hope, or Mr. Yaple, ,vith his pale, kind, grave face and earnest look. I believe I respected my tutor more than any other being on earth, and I

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CIDLDROOD. 21 om convinced that had I not discovered how Annie prized and valued him, she would not have been half so dear to me. About this time, too, aunt Davis was an unwearied intruder iato our little room. Oh, how patiently Mr. Maple bore her iacursions! Sometimes she would actually take his place on the couch, and remonstrate with him concerning a certaia stoop which she declared I had, but which, I believe, was visible to no one else. Standiag agajnst the wall she proposed as a remedy for this defect, and because Mr. Maple, busy over my delectus, does not imme diately attend to her suggestion, she stalks out of the room, coughing portentously, and sayiag, "If I were mistress of the house I am oply a visitor," was breathed forth to the empty piazza. There was a deep sort of ravine immediately below the mountaia on which our house was situated, where many large mango trees clustered, laden with their golden fruit; Avocado pear trees weI'e thickly iaterspersed amongst them, and star apples hung ia clusters from their own dark boughs. We were all fond of mangoes. This is quite a creole taste, for the English have, in general, a par ticular aversion to this fruit If I missed Annie in the evening, I was sure to find her-naughty girl!-committing depredations amongst the mango trees.

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22 'BE!EMBRANCES OF One afternoon, I particularly remember, I was bounding down the grecn hill towards her, when I observed her in quiet yet earnest conversation with Mr. Maple. Yes, it is clearly to me still, though mnny years have passed away since that time, and the fretful and the happy, the earnest and the sorrowful-all, all have laid them dow u, and the clods of the valley cover them; their love !tnd their hatred, their joy and their sorrow, is pel'illhcd with them. I ouly Bm left of all that mountain party, and I believe in my breast alone remains any remem brance of anything that they did under the sun. But, as I was aaying, I remember everything con cerning that evmJing. The sky wore that look of softness peculiar to it after a heavy morning rain. The sunset's gold WIlB paler than UBUal, and there was 'the deepest purple but little cl'imson on the wootern horizon. Have you ever noticed Do child called from weeping to join in sudden mirth? Some thing that is not sadness, yet very nearly allied to it, rests on that child's face, and we see the tear on the cheek, whilst laughter echoes from the lips. On this evening nature wore just such It face. The rain-drops W
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CD II.DROOD. 23 and the breeze bore it on to the distllIlt woodland, aU down to the river-side. The wild senna trees, too, how their lovely blossoms tossed the sparkling rain-drops from them, like the scornful beauty throw ing disdainfully from her human affection. The fog was beginning to rise. I believe this early life amidst such scenery tinged my thoughts even then with romance, for I remember thinking how deli cately beautiful was the silvery mist, as it fantasti cally dressed the monntDins in its own airy lightness. As I sit qniotly on the bank watching all this, those words, "What is yonr life? it is even as a vaponr !" keep chiming on my thoughts. There is somat .hing so serions in my tutor's man ner, and so nnusually grave in Annie's way of listening to what ho says, that I do not like to interrupt them. There stands Annie, in her white dress and purple velvet shawl, that she was accustomed to throw over her shoulders in the evening, with the very look that she always wore when I spoke of my tutor as being superior to anyone else. Her happy face was as a window, letting in the rays of hope and S1Jmmer light on the more thoughtfally moulded mind of my tutor. He had been lately ordained, and, I knew, was ere long, to hold (\ living in the northern part of the island. E

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24 REM..ErtrnRANCES OF As I am thus musingly sitting on my quiet bank, I bear voices in the little portico which is just above US: There, Mary," said my aunt Davis to my mother, "look at Annie and Mr. Maple there is certainly too much profession about that man." Oh, how my little heart beat with indignation. "My motte is," continued my aunt, '" let all things be done decently and in order.' I ask you, is that correct?" Dinah," replied my mother, in her slow gentle way, "we must not blame Mr. Maple if he have become attached to our sweet Annie." My aunt then said a great deal in a querulous tone, which I did not hear, but how plajnly I did hear the stately tread and the ominous cough; and "Not mistress of the heuse, only visitor," died on my ear as the land-breeze came down from the moun tajns, just the same then as it does now, whispering, whispering on, as if with love and sorrow, change and death, it had some mysterious connexion, and passing on before us we knew not whither. That evening Annie had a long conversation in the back piazza with my mother, and it was decided that my cousin was to retrrrn to Kingston, early in the next week. We all missed her sadly Even Aunt Davis had the manner of one looking about for

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cnn.nHOOD. 25 something she could not find, and Mr. Maple was Wl able to conceal his anxiety for the arrival of the post. Well, several weeks passed, dUling which time my mother was making arrangements for my return to England. Mr. Maple became very sad, and aunt Davis more fidgety thau ever I remember I well knew, though indeed I can not tell how, that my dear mother was advancing in the Christian life, and lance overheard her say to Mr. Maple, "I was not sorrowful, but there was a yearning in my heart for something I could not find, my soul was unsatisfied; now' I t.hink, in some degree, I do turn to my Saviour, and he never sends me empty away -what love to one so undeserving! Indeetl, my mother seemed altogether changed. There was continually a placid smile on her counte nance; the letting out, as it were, of the peace ,vithin; and it remained steadfast, too, that tranquil look, even under a shower of sharp words from my aunt, as if kept there by an invisible hand. Mr. Maple is graver than ever His bible, if possible, is more continually his study. We return to the Lowlands, and many more quiet weeks roll on. The sea chimes regularly as ever. My lessons are continued, and then my mother goes to town, and returns in triumph with A nnie. I E 2

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26 RllMEMllRANCES o}' think the Sllnligb t of her glance was dimmed, or rather, I should say, softened, for her countenance had lost none of its beautiful expression, and I felt, from the cheerful tone in which she welcomed me, that hope was strong within her. Mr. Maple and Annie sat together all that even ing, and whilst my mother looked as if she had some new source of enjoyment, aunt Davis became so un comfortable because no one was noticing her, that after coughing ineffectually for some time, to draw from us exclamations of pity, she called" Bunchy," and retired to her bedroom. Yet there she could not remain. She returned twice to tell us there would surely be an earthquake, and I overheard Annie whisper to Mr. Maple, "I wonder she does not say, 'If I were mistress of the house, no such convulsion of nature should disturb us.''' Mr Maple looked at her for a moment, as if inclined to say something in reproof, but that smile conquerecl, and he only looked gravely, and I fancied somewhat pitifully at her. It was at this time that I observed a peculiar expression about my tutor's face. A superstitious person would have said it told he was not long for this world. It was a look which plainly showed that his spirit at times rose on the win,,""B of a realising

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OffILDnOOD. 27 faith, far above earth and its I11Jxieties, aye, and its affections, too, to be where Christ sitteth at the right hand of God. I surlllised that all was right agajn, and wishing to show that I had some knowledge of thc state of things, I plucked some of our school-room orange blossoms, and pushed them amongst Annie's long tair curls. She kissed me affectionately, aDd asked me the next morning if I would promise to be at her wed ding? Oh how delighted I was! I skipped about the old room in my glee, and told Annie, with an air of great sagacity, that it would be no common hap piness always to be with Mr Maple But enough of all this Aunt Davis continued to find a thousand cases in which if she were mistress of the house, and not only a visitor, things would go on much better-truly, if 8M had ruled, the bridal day would never have arrived. How carefully I dressed on that eventful morning. I tied my dark bltle neckerchief, I have no doubt, with consummate skill, and my jacket was as glossy as my shining locks. Well, mamma and aunt Davis went in the large carriage, whilst I sat, full of importance, by deal' Annie's side in the phooton. Mr. Maple was to meet us at the church.

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28 llBMEl\UJRANCES OF The sun rose that morning on the cloudless sky llS if care had nothing to do with life; as if sorrow nover even looked on human affection. Row well I recollect Annie's pale face llS she en tered the church! I thought she had forgotten her smile, but no-she looked timidly at Mr. Maple, aud there it was, although subUued and chastened by trembling and fear, those handmaids on every approach to earthly happiness Annie's parents were both present at the wedding. I cannot tell why, but I was impressed with the idea that they had reluctantly consented to this mamage. The church is still before me: a low, barn-like looking place. At the altar mils, which are newly built of cedar, they are kneeling side by side, Mr. Maple and A Ilnie. The feeling of Annie's good fortune in being llDited to Mr. Maple was uppermost in my mind. Dear girl, much as I loved her, the idea of his happiness in possessing such a treasure never once occurred to me. Now Mr. Maple's face wears the expression of which I have before spoken, and for a moment or two, even at this time, he seems to be far away from the world, from its love, its sorrow, and all belonging to it. Then I hear the low "Amen," and the service is over.

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cnu.nnOOD. 29 This time, my seat is by aunt Davis, for Mr. Maple and Annie drive on together in the phooton. Aunt Davis troubles me sadly by pinning up her gown, that it might not be injured by the dust, for it was the very dress she had worn at my mother's wedding, and, as I saucily observed, sho might one day wear at mine. I am commissioned to hold sundry small pins whilst she is thus occupied, and then I am to cany her bro wn holland bag, and carefully, too, for it contains a bottle of eau de Cologne and a small phial of rcd lavender j this latter was a cordial which my aunt found necessary on all exciting occasions. She will not allow me quietly to follow the train of those mournful thoughts which neces sarily belong to a wedding, inasmuch as it is almost always connected with some painful separation. "Take care, Charlie, the bottles are striking together," she exclaims. "Of what are you think ing, Charlie ?-tho umbrella is in my eye!" for although there had been no rain for some time, wc were obliged to use umbrellas as shields against tho dress-destroying dust. Right glad was I when we were once more in the pleasant shade of the large hall. It was a checrful party, that second breakfast. I tried hard to forget that Mr. Maple was nevcr more to be my tutor j that our pleasant mornings in the

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30 REMEMBRANCES OF little library were henceforth to be but a remem brance. Even aunt Davis, in the sober cheerfulness of that bridal party, seemed to forget that she was but a visitor. Only once I heard her say, "If I were mistress, these tbings should not be," but I believe, from long habit, that the sentence escaped her involuntarily-there was no angry emphasis in the words on this happy day. The negroes were vociferous on this occasion. ""'WT>.hat they had to do with the matter I cannot tell, and I do not tbink they exactly knew themselves, but wine and silver threepences a coin current in J runaica-were freely given to them, and they felt bound in gratitude to express their thanks as noisily as possible. The lun cheon is over; Annie retil"es to exchange her bridal for a travelling dress. She pauses at the door, and with bright sparkling happiness gleaming on her sweet young face, "Charlie," she says, as she stoops and kisses my forehead, "the lines have fallen unto me in pleasant places-my cup runneth over." In the listlessncss of heart which was already beginning to follow the unusual excitement I had undergone, I stroll in the piazza, afraid even to look at the door of Oill' little study. Who gallops down the 10llg a,enue? I recognise him by his beautiful

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cnU.DHOOD. 31 bl(lck horse. It is Arthur Lochane. He is too late for the wedding, but he may yet see Annie, whom he has not met for years. He may yet wish her happiness as the bride of another who was once the starlight of his boybood. So unselfish is his affection, that with genuine sincerity he grasps Mr. Maple's hand, and congratulates him on the prize he has won. A keen observer might have perceived something like llgitation in Arthur's manner, but it soon passes away, and he is composed as ever as he stands by Mr. Maple, who is admiring the glossy coat of the spirited black horse. How elegant is the curve of its arched neck, as, impatient of restraint, it paws the ground. Arthur is very fond of his horse, and he draws Mr. Maple's attention to the good expression of its eye W hiM they are thus engllged, my pet fawn makes its escape, and bounding immediately before the noble "nim al, causes it to rear and turn round, so that its fore legs come in sudden and violent contact with Mr. Maple's chest. He sank on the steps, whilst the blood streamed from his mouth. Annie, who saw the acoident ft'Om the window,

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32 REMEMD" "NOES OF hastens towards him, and the deep crimson stain covers her loosened bridal robe. There are some sudden woes that do the work of years in a morning! Row was that fair girl altered! "As a tempest of ra.in and a destroying storm, as a flood of mighty waters overwhelming," had that sorrow come upon her. Mr. Maple had fainted, and it was With much difficulty that we conveyed him to the sofa b the dear study where we had spent many happy hours. What a meeting for Arthur! Annie was so absorbed in the intensity of anguish, that she did not seem to know he was present She neither spoke, nor wept, nOlO sighed. All the strength of her grief was concentrated in the earnest, lIDmoved gaze that she kept fixed on Mr. Maple's pallid face. He slowly opens his eyes, and they rest on Annie. Oh, the lIDutterable tenderness of his loving look! He was too much exhausted to speak, but I know had he been able to express himself at that moment, he would have said to the trembling girl," Be strong, fear not; I, the Lord, am with thee -I, the God of Israel, will not forsake thee." Tho negroes expressed their sympathy by groans

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onrLDllOOD. 33 and lamentations of the most terrible and uncouth nature. Annie was almost maddened by the turmoil, and we could, neither by threats nor persuasions, induce them to be qniet. It was two hours before the doctor arrived. Mr. Maple was removed into his bedroom, and the son-o'l"iul bride becomes the tender and loving nurse. I shall never, through life, forget the sudden change from that day of feasting to the house of mourning. We eould scarcely realize it. There had been no anticipated sorrow-no twilight to prepare us for the unexpected darkness The mid night of anguish had come in, as it were, on the day, and put out the rejoicing sun And then it was peculiarly trying to see Annie wrapped in the dark garb of sadness. There are some methodical characters, so sober even in happiness, that when affiiction settles on them, its inroads are, at all events, for some little time, scarcely perceptible. :But Annie! our sunbeam our morning: Annie-the echo of whose silvery laughter ran through our long halls; whose smile left glad ness with the son-owful, and whose very tone en couraged the despondent-to see her moving noise lessly about, with silence on her lips and son-ow ou her brow, this was grief indeed.

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34 RE1EMBRANCES OF I was sometimes admitted into my loved tutor's room. Dear Mr. Maple; there wue the expression of which I have before spoken, stronger and plainer than ever; and, child as I was, I knew, that though fondly affectionate towards Annie, his soul was longing to be with him, whom having not seen, he loved. Arthur soon left us. He could have witnessed Annie's happiness, but he could not endure to see her souow I have still an indistinct recollection of dreary days-that little forsaken library haunts me yet. I had no lessons to learn. There I sat, trying to make the loud ticking of the old clock keep time with the music of the waves. At length there was a whispering in the house, and then J amba, the cook, and Prince, the butler, literally began to howl. Dr. Parry came out, and for a time commanded silence; but my bedroom was prepared for Annie, and then I knew that all was over-my beloved tutor was never more to meet me in our pleasant study Annie's life in its morning was darkened, for he had gone home. This was the way in which she first touchingly mentioned her sorrow to me. I remember a low grave under a spreading sand box-tree, with my tutor's name on the rough stone.

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ClI1LDnOOD. 35 Aunt Davis grew much more amiable after this sad event. I do not recollect ever again hearing her say that she was only a visitor, though once or t,vice sbe told me, with real humility, that she felt shc was a stranger and a pilgrim upen earth. She learnt at length to look beyond things seen for happiness, and how wonderful was the change, such indeed as might bo deemed almost incredible by those who know nothing of the satisfying and peace bestowing nature of true religion. The tone of murmur was for ever hushed, nay was lost in the sweet song of praise, so true it is that when, by the Spirit of Adoption we are enabled to say, "Father;" when we can view tho smallest circumstanoos as being controlled and ordered by Him who careth for us, trivial discomforts ccase any longer so to irritate us; a my from the better land has fallen on our way, and seeing in the far distance the gates of the Celcstial City, we look upwards and forget the thorns of those petty annoyances in anticipation of tho glory which shall be revealed. My mother lived many years after Mr. Maplc's death, growing in grace and in the knowledge of her Lord and Saviour; but Annie, in the flush of her youth, was called away, and I could not mourn for her, but whenever I henr the whispering land breeze, or the measured roll of the waves, I think of F

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36 REMEMllRANCES OF ClIILDlIOOD. that happy room and my beloved tutor, and I try to remember the laughter-loving Annie as ahe was when untouched by sorrow. At all events, this hope I have, that again our home circle will be made complete in the land where Death and Woe will have nothing more to do with earthly affection.

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CHAPTER II. l (,parnrffr 3llinnq. I NEVER can forget Mr. Walker He was an eccen tric being, and yet many such characters were, I believe, found from time to time, some years ago, amongst the semi-civilized inhabitants of Jamaica's mountain land My friend Mr. Campbell had just arrived from England, and he sent me a pressing invitation to run down to his estate for two or three days. I arrived in the afternoon, and I found he was expecting some gentlemen to dine with bim at seven o'clock. We were talking over old times when, after a little unusual bustle in the piazza, a negro boy ran in, with a short driving whip in his hand, and, with a laugh in which I am sure all his very white teeth joined, said, "M886a, Buckra come," and before we had time to make any inquiries 88 to the name by F 2

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38 A CHARACTER. which this buckra was distinguished from buckrns genernliy, a fine looking old gentleman walked into the room, with loaded pistols in his hand, pointed towards us. Mr. Campbell persuaded him to place these on the table, and then introduced him to me as Mr. Walker. I cannot forgot his wild look, his neglected hair, his bluc coat, with its large Hat gilt buttons, his white waistcoat, and untidily folded cravat. My first feeling was that of astonishment that such an uncouth being should not only be permitted as a guest, but actually welcomed as a friend. lIow my heart afterwards condemned mo for this thought. I found he was continually haunted by the idea that his life was sought by the negroes around bim. It was with great difficulty that Mr. Campbell had obtained from him a promise to remain that eveDing, for he seldom left home. Ris manners were a strange D1i ture of eccentricity, bordering on actual rudeness, and the polish of a well-bred gentleman. lie attached himself to mo throughout the evening, from a likeness which he insisted that I bore to his son Tom. There was something very melancholy in his con versation. It was the wreck of a great mind, and by thc really beautiful thoughts which momentarily appearod on the surface, you wero reminded how

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A CHARACTER. 39 much was sunk in the wide sea of opportunities lost and time mispent. And then the restless unquiet of his eye WIl8 most painful. If a servant came into the room, Mr: Walker looked towards his pistols, as if he longed again to have them in his possession; indeed, the whole tone of his conversation was to conviuce us that even the most harmless of our attendants were lying in wait to kill him. I thought it must neces sarily be monomania, but Mr. Campbell assured me that his mend's mind was unimpaired: it was the very secluded life which for more than fifty years he had led that had given rise to these suspicions. Throughout dinner I observed that he raised his plate to his nose every time it was replenished, to detect if poison had been put therein; and whcn he retired to his bedroom, oh, what preparations of defence were made against a midnight attack. A ... sword was put across the foot of his bed, and a pair of loaded pistols were careful! y placed under his pillow. And then to see his travelling apparatus, as it stood at the door the next morning. What a pic ture it would have made! There was a little old gig, with very high wheels, to which two half starved horses were attached by ropes, tandem fashion. The effect of all this was heightened by F 3

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40 A CIUR.iC'rER. the air with which Mr. Walker gave orders to his outriders, a couple of rugged boys on mules, to "keep ahead of bim." "They would shoot me in the back," he knowingly observed to me, "if allowed to lag behind." With the ease and assurance of an "excellent whip," he took his seat on the old hassock which served as cushion, and was turned upside down, that the most presentable part might meet the public eye, and in the style of a gentleman whose equip. ments were first-rate, he waved us his adieux. Oh, what a bustle there was, when he in reality set off. The smallest outrider was left far behind, and I saw Mr. Walker, when he turned round, in stinctively put his hand upon his pistol. The port manteau had almost slipped from the mule, and the mule seemed determined to slip from its rider, for it stood still and kicked, as if protesting vehemently against associating too intimately with such a master; then, as if it had suddeuly changed its mind, flew off with a speed which well uigh upset Smudge," for such was the name of the little stable-boy, raised on this occasion to the ronk of outrider. Mr. Campbell proposed a visit to Mr. Walker the following evening, and appeared much to enjoy my surprise at his partiality for this uncouth being.

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.l CHARACTER. 41 During the drive, as might have been expected, our conversation was principnlly of Mr. Walker, when I asked if he had any ideas of religion? "All approach to serious conversation," said Mr. Campbell, "he connects by some mysterious associa tion of memory with his daughter Minny, who died of fever some two or three years ago. His eldcst child, now Mrs. Bartley, was as self willed and violent as her father. Hers was a run away match, and she had much difficulty to effect her escape This, however, she achievcd by setting the house on fire as she made her exit, and whilst her father was entirely occupied in quelling the fiames, and in endeavouring to discover which of his negroes had been the perpetrator of this act, she had leisure, unmolested and unobserved, to accompliRh her escape. "Bella, the youngest daughter, is a wild creature; you ,vill, I have no doubt, see her this evening. She can use the currycomb to a horse, or saddle it, and seems quite in her element when in the atmos phere of the stable. lfinDy sprang up between them, a delicate and gentle being, fair as a lily, and painfully nervous from the sec lud ed life she led. Hers was indeed a most interesting case. She found an old pocket bible in a negro hut; sho tw'lled over its pages, and

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42 A CHARACTER. became so interested in their contents, that she pur chased the treasure, and returned home to read throughout the night that sacred volume. She told me that at this time she had never even heard of the Gospel plan of salvation. She knew that Jesus was the Son of God, but she was altogether ignorant that through Him only she conld approach the Father. 'God giveth His Holy Spirit to them that ask bim,' she said; 'r read the Blessed Saviour's words -" Whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name, r will give it you," and my instantaneous prayer was, "Give me thy Holy Spirit for the sake of Jesus Christ." Oh, how, in its beautiful freedom and sim plicity, the plan of salvation opened upon me; whilst the sufferings of the Son of God caused me to see the exceeding sinfulness of sin; the fulneBB of the redemption that was in Christ Jesus enabled me at length to say, "From Him cometh my salvation." She had never met even with a professor of religion till she became acquainted with me. She had no technical terms, no peculiar mode of phraseology. She had never been able to attend a place of public worship, for there was not one for miles round, but at the crimson fall of day the bamboos at the river side had been witnosses of her earnest prayer, and, amidst that disorderly and complajning household,

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A ClIAllAC'l'ER. 43 she moved with gladness in her hcnrt and peace in her bosom. }finny was far advanced in the Christian lifo, but knew it not. Love to Him who had done so much for her was the pervading feeling of her soul. Her childlike confidence, her simple trust in her Redeemer, so unmarred by doubt of any kind, spoko in a reproving voice to many a far-famed Christian of the present day. At one time, her father lost, through the failure of a house in "England, many thousand pounds, and was, consequently, obliged to make a home of the miserable abode in whieh you will find them this evemDg. I was with them at the time of their removal. The house they had left was large and commodious, though in a most desolato part of the country Yr. Walker was morose and severe; his wife was in tears; Bella was murmuring and dispirited, whilst Minny smilingly and quietly glided in and out amongst them. Now she was tastefully arranging some ornamental shells on the low table; then she was affectionately whispering to her papa, We shall soon make all comfortable,' and pushing her smull white hands playfully through his silvery hair. 'Minny,' I softly said, 'how is it that you alone are happy?

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44 A cnARACTER. Oh, you forget, Mr. Campbell,' she said; and then, lowering her voice to the softest tone, how touchingly she added, '" Peace I leave with you; my peace I give unto you; not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid." The Bible alone had been her study. She had never read any book on theology-commentaries she had never heard of; the Word of God was the light to her feet, and the lamp to her path, and the entrance of those words had given understanding to the simple. She had not received the spirit of bondage, the language of adoption was hers, and she cried Abba, Father! I am persuaded that nothing could have separated her from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord. There she went on, from day to day, delighting in the law of God, yet warring a,,"'Rinst the law of her mind. And all this hidden life, this internal conflict, she carried on alone no, not alone, for the Father loved her; the Lord looked down from heaven on this precious one, and very often, in the midst of that divided family, led her by the still waters of heavenly consolation. What a changed creature she became; changed altogethcr in manner, for self had been in a great

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" CllAD 'OTER. 45 measure cast down, nnd goodwill towards mnn flourished in its place. Chnnged, too, she was, even in appearance, for the meekness of heavenly wisdom shone in her smile, and you could see by her whole deportment that the Refiner had been with her. Her sisters laughed at her; her mother forbad her to mention in her presence the subject of religion; only to her eccentric father did she dare occasionally to speak of her inward source of happine88. "Oh, how her heart of tendrils clung to the pro mises! She never said, 'I have been reading this new work,' or 'I have been told this or that,' but, in the beautiful simplicity of Scripture lnnguage, her answer was ever ready. 'Do you not sometimes, Minny,' lone day ssid, wishing to try her, 'do you not sometimes do things that are right, from your own amiable disposition?' Jesus Christ says,' she 8nswered, '" If a mnn abide not in me, he is cast forth as a branch, and is withered." Once I, too, was fretful, continually qUllrrelling with my sisters; but this could not con tinue. Scarcely had I breathed the angry word, when a voice seemed to whisper, "This is my com mandment that ye love one nnother, as I have loved you." Yet am I daily offending II forbearing Father,' she said, with II sorrowfnl look; 'and did He not receive where man wonld reject; did he not

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46 A ClIAl\ACTER. pity when the world would scorn, and wait to be gracious where a fellow sinner would repel, I know not what would become of me. How truly he says by his prophet, As the heavens are higher than the earth, 80 are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts." "I do not remember that she had ever before spoken thus unreservedly to me, but she was carried on by her heart's fervour. Then suddenly she began to apologize for the boldness with which she had been giving me her opinion. "There was a striking peculiarity in this dear child's faith. We allow that Jesus is our friend, that he careth for us, that he is ever touched with the feeling of our infirmities, and we should be startled if anyone questioned our sincerity as regardcd these convictions; but I am certain that we do not, as she did, take to our God the little daily dis quietudes of home, the ruffling annoyance, the chafing care. We do not realize His presence, as she did, about our path in the evening walk, about our bed when the shades of night have closed around us. Thus was she enabled, amidst many difficulties, to go on her way rejoicing. She opened her mouth wide aud it was filled. She opened her heart and it was satisfied with the fulness of God. She was almost uneducated, though, I should

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A CJLUtA()TER. 47 say, naturnlly clever, and in proportion lIS she became imbued with the spirit of her Master did her very language become improved. Seeking to follow His example, she WIIS pitiful and courteous, and in the sincerity of true Christian unselfishness, became pos sessed of the gW'm of real politeness. .As the small rain upon the tender herb had that Word been to J.{jnny. In this case, man was not even used as an in strument. The Lord alone did lead her. He found her in a waste howling wilderness; he instructed her, he kept her as the apple of his eye "Then she WIIS suddenly attacked by fever. She stood on the borders of the heavenly inheritance, and looked back with longing, lingering love on her white-haired father. "I called, without even knowing of her illness, and she begged to sec me. 'I might have been dreaming,' these were the words she addressed to me the very first moment I made my appearance, 'but this morning some one stood by me all in white, and told me that my dear papa would turn aud repeut. Do not, dear Mr. Campbell, lose sight of him; remember that the angels of God rejoice over one sinner that repenteth.' I WIIS so deeply affected, I could ouly bow my G

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4:8 A. CHARACTER. head in token of acquiescence. It was a touching sight to see her lying on that little comfortless bed, with the rude apparatus of arms and harness hanging from the walls, her mother passively sitting by her, and her father, for once forgetting that his life was in danger, bending anxiously over her-yet he could not stay her, she WitS goiug home! She had held fast that she had, and no man could take her cro wn. Already the tree of life was in sight, which is in the midst of the paradise of God. 'Have you no fear now, my love?' I whis pered. No,' she solemnly answered; 'our Great High Priest who has passed into the heavens is waiting there to receive me.' "Love had triumphed, and had cast out fear. All this language was in such strong contrast to the tone of conversation prevalent in that family, that the effect was impressive. I felt a louging that some of my Christian friends in England could come and look on that dying bed. I am persuaded they would have returned home with a firm resolve to make the simple word of God more constantly their study, they would have felt their faith strengthened, and their pride of heart subdued. They would have learnt at the bedside of

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A. CHA.lLI.CTER. 49 that dear girl that we must be led by the Spirit of God, even as a little child is led, if we would be the Bons of God. I was unable to remain long with lfinny. I stooped down and kissed her cold forehead She had been silent and motiouless so long that we thought the coma, which is tlie last stage of yellow fever, must have b e en stealing over her. I, however, gently whispered, 'The peace of God, which passeth all understanding, keep your heart and mind through Christ Jesus.' She opened her eyes, and distinctly said, 'He hath clothed me with the garments of salvation.' These were, I believe, her last words, she died in the evening. I have since Been little of Mr. W slker, in con sequence of my recent visit to England, but you will now understand why I was so a.nxious to introduce him to you You may remind llim of his daughter's dying wish, but deal with him gently, he is a wild being, almost ferocious, if approached unguardedly Oh, how I blamed myself for having entertained Buch hard thoughts of one to whom my Master might be waiting to be gra.cious; how I prayed for wisdom in the difficult task before me. "There," said my friend, "is their humble dwelling." G 2

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50 A. CIIA RACtR. That negro hut," I exclaimed, "impossible!" It was a low, barn-like house. The roof was in a dilapidated condition, the shingles being completely decayed, and the palmette thateh only used in those places where repair was absolutely necessary. The Venetianed windows were broken in many parts, and might perhaps once have been green, although this is merely a supposition, as no trace of their original colour romained. The approach of our phroton was the signal for some half-dozen starvcd dogs to make their appear ance j thcy seemed too low-spirited to bark. .All the oooks, too, began to crow vehemently, and tho wildest of wild black heads forced itself through a brokon part of tho before-mentioned Venetian blinds. 'l'hen thoro was a tittering and whispering, "Him bring 'trange buckra wid bim, and bim 'tand taillike aloe."" Then there was suppressed laughter again. Noone came to our QS.
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A CHilA.CTER. 51 He was sitting, without coat 01' waistcoat, in a low wooden chair, which he was pushing back in creole style, whilst his shoeless feet had atta ined no slight degree of eminence on the half-plastered wall. Ris slippers kept their humble station on the ground below. His hair was neglected, and his face un shorn. Ris collar was unbuttoned, and altogether he was in such complete dishabille that I felt uneasy at having thus intruded on him. I therefore kept in the background, and began to murmur an apology. His inimitable coolness of maDner, however, in a moment set me at rest. Rising with real unembarrassed elegance to receive us, although he did not even remember to put on his slippers,-" Most happy to see you," he said; "pray be seated I thought for a moment he was at a loss, as there were no chairs in the room, with the exception of the wooden one before mentioned, but this must have been my fancy, for the next instant he had inverted two empty tamarind kegs, and thus supplied the deficiency of these Illticles of household furniture. Then he pressed on us refreshment, and would take no refusal. There was a dried Yorkehire ham suspended by a hook from a horizontal beam that traversed the upper 03

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52 A CHARACTER. part of the room. Mr. Walker took his dirk from his side, and cut off several slices of this dried meat. Then he called the good-natured looking girl who had likened me to an aloe, to make preparations for the cooking of our repast. In a yard immediately beneath one of the windows, and where Mr. Walker could overlook all culinary proceedings, and detect any attempt at poison, a square was made with four bricks, in which a fire of wood was kinilled, and in some apparatus of his own manufacture the broiling of the ham commenced Then there was a sudden running and cbasing in the waste ground immediately in front of us, and I soon perceived that one of the feathered tribe who had so musically welcomed us was suffering martyrdom on our account. He was being stoned to death, and I believe it was our friend Smudge of the preceding who dealt the fatal blow, if I may judge from the triumph actually from his teeth. A very thin old woman boiled the cocoas in a pan given to her from our sitting room, by Mr. Walker. You remind me," I said, laughing, "of Oliver Cromwell. Do you not recollect that for many years he was harossed by the fear that his life was sought? It is a penalty, I suppose, that great men must sometimes pay." He was slU'Priscd I made sllc h It subject 0 matter

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A CHARACTER. 53 of merriment, he said. Only last night, as he returned, a strange negro rushed from the bushes, and his own servants had seemed much discomposed. What could be the meaning of all this? Well, we could not convince him that his own fears formed dangers out of the most harmless circumstances, so we talked of other things, and then Mrs. Walker and Bella made their appearance. Mrs. Walker was very tall and very thin, and I well remember that her old-fashioned dress was too tight and too short We had for some time heard a sort of half-sup pressed bustle in the next room, as of a process of laborious dressing, mingled with whispers such as these "I must wear my kid shoes that ribbon is too faded," &c. This accounted for the Hushed fllce of Bella, who literally seemed exhausted. I must confess she was the most weather-beaten young lady I ever remember to have seen; the very crimson of her cheeks, having to struggle through an outer casement of amber colour, became a sort of deep neutral tint, relieved only by large freckles of a much darker hue. When she sat down, she put her feet forward, pressing tbem together as if she regretted they were not one, and then I noticed the kid shoes whispered about in the adjoining apartment. Her wbite gloves were soiled and stained, her bracelets

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54 A CIURACTEU. tawdry, and her light muslin dress seemed scarcely suited to that apartment. Her vcry eyes were sun burnt: tho part that should have been white being strangely mixed with red gave them a glaring appearance. The feeling uppermost in my mind was the most profound pity for this unfortunate girl, shut out from the means of civilization open to even the poorest in England. I asked her if she liked the country? "Yes, sir," sho said, and then she held down her head, and broke out into a hissing whis pering laugh. Have you been long in this neighbourhood? " Yes;" and another mysterious laugh followed, which it was most pajnful to hear. Mrs. Walker had evidently moved, at some time of her life, in refined society, and I was quite at a loss to account how it happened that she had im parted none of this civilization to her daughter. I afterwards learnt from the thin cook a piece of infolmation, proffered willingly, however, that "old massa always lock up old missis when him go out, and neber let him 'tay wid bim own pickney." Poor lady! I believe that long oppression had so benumbed all her finer feelings, that she had for some time ceased to feel any interest in the improve ment of her children.

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A CHARACTER. I heard from :Mr. Campbell, that :Mr. Walker would sometimes keep his wife for weeks a prisoner in her bedroom. No marvel, then, that she sunk into a state of lInmUl'muring acquiescence, and lost all energy of purpose, all vigour of mind. I tried to persuade myself that she sometimes gazed compassionately on her daughter, but no, when I looked again, there was something vacant in the expression that had no doubt been once animated by maternal affection. :My spirits became dejected to such a degree, that :Mr. Campbell began to rally me on my silence. Then I made some observation to Bella, and again the hissing laugh threw me back into a sort of despondency. Yet there was a degree of conceit visible about Bella, that was to me surprising. :My friend :Mr. Campbell made some allusion to the frequent visits of a medical gentleman in the neighbourhood, and she hung down her head, whilst a smile of delight did for a moment cause a meteor gleam of intelligence to flit across her face, and she fidgeted with her gloves, and the neutral tint deepened on her cheeks. Poor girl! why should I thus uncharitably accuse h e r of conceit? Was she, then, to consider hers elf as shut out from all bum an affection because debarred the privi-

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56 A orr ARACTEll. l eges of society and education? Might she not have sterling qualities I could not on a first acquaintance perceive? There is often a weary toil in darkness before the gem is found that sparkles in the coronal, and when I considered what the wisest amongst us must be in the sight of God, when I rememb e red how he pitied our weaknesses, and looked on us and loved us, disfigured as we were by ignorance, and rendered loathsome by sin, my heart reproached me, and for the re st of the evening I am sure my tone was softer to Bella, and my manner kinder whenever I addressed her. The stars were out before we commenoed our homeward ride, and I felt discouraged that I had not introduced one serious word during the conversa tion of that evening . "Never mind," said Mr. Campbell, encouragingly; you cau go alone next time, and lure Mr. Walker to speak of Minny. This will soften his heart, and no doubt incline him to receive favourably any observation you may make." My dreams that night were of that strange abode. I thought I was in the old hall, half sitting-room, half saddle-room, but Minny was there, looking reproachfully at me, as an ambassador of Christ who had forgotten his message of peace. As I have before observed, Mr. Walkcl" had taken

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A 57 what is generally called "a great fancy" tc me, and I therefore was not surprised to find him at Mr. Campbell's the next morning. He had made himself quite at home during our absence, for we had been taking a morning ride. He was sitting with his pipe in the piazza, and his feet at their usual height, only he did not retain his dishabille of the preceding evening, and the weight of his coat seemed tc oppress him. His pistcls were close at hand, and the unquiet wandering expression of countenance very visible this morning. Are you always thus disquieted, Mr. Walker," I gently inquired, and I did not laugh this time. "Continually on the alert, sir j obliged to be," was his answer. "If we abide under the shadow of the Almighty," I said, "we need not be afraid of the terror by night, nor the arrow that f1ieth by day." He remained perfectly unmoved. As the mountains are round about Jerusalem," I continued, "so the Lord is round about his people." "Aye, hi& people!" he replied, with a sudden vehemence that almost made me start. Do you know, Mr. Scott, although we sit here side by side, there is an immeasurable gulf between

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58 A ClIARACrER. us that which divides the right hand side from the left." I was so unprepared for any observation of this kind, that I made no reply, and holding down his pipe, with a look more sorrowful than I had ever seen bim wear, he moodily continued : I went on my own dark, wilful way, compara tively with ease, but Minny (and there was an inex pressible tenderness in his tone when he mentioned this name ) }[inny held out a light, and I saw the dreary waste before me. She is gone, but the light still remains nothing will extinguish it, and now I go on uneasily and sadly, longing yet unable to quench it." "Follow it, my dear sir," I said; "so shall you bless the day your daughter was led to place it thero; follow it, and it will lead you from the wilderness to a land flowing with milk and honey, even to the heavenly Canann." Minny," he continued, without any reference to my remark, "grew up as a garden flower in the midst of our ,vilderness our uncivilized home. She was as different from Bella as light from darkness, as different from us all "As the spiritual mind is from the intenupted. carnal" I

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A CUAR-\OTElt. 59 Yes," he said, in no way offended at my remark, that was it; and well for her it was that she was called away, though hcr sweet aud dutiful affection for me was the only ray that ever brightened a long and dreary life of SOl'rOW." 'fhe whole man was changed whilst he was thus speaking, and all his fears were forgotten. "You may go to h er," I said, "though she can not return to you." Aye, Minny would hav e her grey-haired father at her side, that I know well enough," he r eplied, "but the Holy God will not admit such a one as I into his presence, and this you know, Mr. Scott," he added, with something like severity. I know," I solemnly answered, "that nothing that defileth can enter into the heavenly land; but I know that the greatest sinnor can be washed and made white in the blood of the Lamb, that clothed in the righteousness of his great Surety he can be presented faultless before the Father. The invitation is unlimited-' Whosoever will, let him come and take of the waters of Life freely.' " But I do not will," he said. "I am miserable, yet I would not be a saint." You would not?" I said, "you are convinced you would not? You would not follow after holiness, you would not be led from the broken cisterns R

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60 A CHARACTER. of eartbly enjoyment to the living fountain of eternal llappiness? He looked thoughtful, and I felt I had said enough on this occasion. I joined the breakfast party with a lighter heart, I feeling thankful that I had been permitted to open the way, as it were, to future conversations on this nll important subject. And so it was. We now frequently talked toge ther on religious matteI'S. Sometimes he would meet my arguments with an air of impenetrability, and at such times his countenance seemed all at once as if made of stone. It was discouraging enough I felt as if all my cotIDsels and persuasions fell powerless bcfore bim. He made no opposition; he ensconced himself in the stronghold of sullen indifference, a sort of fixed deter",ination to remain unmoved. This was all necessary for me, that I might more entirely feel the excellency of the power to be not of man but of God. "Plead thou thine own cause, 0 Thou most Mighty," was my prayer, and then those consoling words came to my recollection-" Why art thou cast down, 0 my soul? hope thou in God!" Even at that moment, though I knew it not, amidst all this effort at indifference, the sword of the Spirit bad entered his soul, the voice that shook the earth had reached his

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A. CHAR.lCTER. 61 car. The proud man was to sit in the dust of humi liation, thnt he might become acquainted with Him who revives the spirit of the contrite. It was a little after this, that I observed he had an increasing conviction of guilt, but he would not look only unto Jesus as the Lamb of God who taketh away the sins of the world. He knew, indeed, of the great propitiatory sacri fice; he knew that the Lord did not require bim to come into his presence with burnt offerings, with calves of a year old, yet, in spito of this knowledge, something he must bring the determiDa tion to attend the ordinances of religion, the resolve to battle with his impetuous temper; with these he would make a bartel', as it were, of eternal life. It was arduous work for him He studied the Scriptures, and he saw what the Law required. This do and thou shalt livo," sounded in his ears, and again he set to work, and again he fell. The members of his family dreaded even his mention of religion. He would angrily rebuke the sins he had so long encouraged, and such was his discontented spirit, so maddened was he by the sense of sins which his conscience whispered were new every morning, that I believe he would at that time have persecuted even unto death those who opposed bim. He was in this frame of mind when I left him to n 2

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62 .!. CBAU!.t'TEH. l'eturn to my duties in the Port Royal Mount.ains, and I think more than a year passed away without any communication having taken place between us, and the n I received a short note from Mr. Walker, begging me, if pos s ible, to pay him a visit, as he was very ill, and feared he had not many days to live. My interest in him was all at once revived, but Ob, with what a pang of self -r eproach I felt how, even in prayer, I had neglected to ask for him spiritual light. If our God thus dealt with us, if His ways were as our ways, what would become of man ? I had even been in his neighbomhood and neglected to visit him I, who was the minister, the steward of the Most High! I tried to console myself, but it was only a mo mentary effort at comfort, by the idea that Mr. Walker lived far beyond the sphere of my ministerial duties. Did my Master lose any opportunity of doing good? A. voice from within made inquiry. These reft ections induced me speedily to commencc my journey, my kind friend Dr. Sanders, though staying with me to obtain a little rest, having consented to officiate f o r me on the approaching Sab bath, should circumstances d etain me long e r in the country than I had anticipated. It was evening when I rea c hed Lemon Gro,e. Thore wor e the uupainted ,enetians, looking, if

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A CrrARACTER. 63 possible, more neglected than ever. Smudge made his appearance, and his teeth laughed merrily as formerly. My heart revived. Mr. Walker must be better, I thought, or there would be some touch of anxiety on this boy's face. Full of hope, I entered the dingy room. There was the wooden chair in the same place, with a soiled white jacket hanging on it. Tho slippers were on the ground, and looked as if tbey had rema.ined there since my last visit. It is impossible to describe the comfortless appear ance of that room. It was not the shadow of poverty that darkened it, it was disorder that pervaded it. The dried meat was hanging on the wall, and the setting sunbeams were playing on the candlesticks whieh had evidently kept their place on the table from the preceding evening Two empty wine glasses stood on the faded table-cover, and whilst I was endeavouring to account for the discomfort apparent, by the pressing anxiety which nright have caused all minor things to be forgotten, Bella made h e r appearance. My first eager inquiries were after hel father. She gave me to understand that the doetor considered him in great danger, from an internal attack of gout, lind then tho hissing l aug h was clear and discordant n 3

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64 A CHARACTER. as ever, and I felt inclincd angrily to ask her if shc had any heart at all. The thin cook then brought me a cup of coffee, and told me with the most inconceivable unconcern, that she believed for true old massa would go dead Boon." I might have suspected that Mr. Walker's best interests would have been neglected at such a time. I might have been assurcd that no one there would feel concern for the immortal part about to leave its frail tent'ment, but such utter want of feeling for father and master I was not prepared to meet I saw it all. He had lived at war with his domestic circle; he had ruled by fear, and affection in trembling had flown away from that household. nut still, Mi-s. Walker: if all were unconcerned woman's enduring love would triumph I wish in the present instance I could CIiJTY out this principle. I have known affection, through cold neglect and bitter llnkindness, flourish luxuriantly, twining its tendrils round the very b:ee whose shadow was death; but sometimes-the truth must be told-sometimes it is crushed and so cruelly trampled on, that it ca.n not rise again. We will, however, leave these reflections for the present, and go on to tlle sick man's room. As a minister, I had often visited the chamber of

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A CHARACTER. 65 suffering-the bed of death. I had seen love and grief vainly trying to arrest the progress of their common enemy, and now, as Bella put her hand on the venetianed door, I fancied I heard some ana sobbing, and, strange as it may seem, the very sup position relieved me. There was, then, one sorrowful heart in that home circle, that would sigh for. tho familiar step, the missing tone; one who would feel life less glad when he was taken away. Slowly we entered the room, and immediately opposite the door lay Mr. Walker, in a small fOUl'posted bedstead. His fine features, though much attenuated, appeared more classical than ever, and his long grey hair being kept in control by his nightcap, showed his wide high forehead. There was no mosquito net, but from the upper part of the framework of the bedstead hung divers kinds of harness, riding whips, and driving whips, whilst across the head board swords were inversely placed Near the window was a of rum, which served as a table. Mr. Walker was sleeping when I entered, and his breath made the peculiar noise which I had mistaken for sobs. At the foot of his bed sat Mrs. Walker. She greeted me with the same depressing composure.

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66 A OHARAOTER. There certainly was no visible sign of distress, and from her employment, which was novel-reading, I judged there could be no great internal sadness. I watched Mr. Walker as he slept. There was occasionally a quivering thrill on his face, as if, in slecp he was sllffering. 1; co, nnot benr, even at this distance of time, to think of the indifference with which "Airs. WalkOl' looked on all this. It is sad to see the heart broken, bleeding, torn to pieccs by the tempest of o.fIIiction, but sadder far to see it unmoved under the chasten ing hand of the Almighty. Drawing towards me a low stool, I sat beside the dying man, and took his feverish hand in mine. Row comfortless every thing seemed The back door of the apartment opened on a yard, where, on some low cllshaw bushes, clothes were spread to dry, and the fowls, un r ebuked, walked in and out of the ebamber. "The doCtol' must have given bim some composing draught," said Mrs. Walker, looking at her husband, "for he has been much more tranquil for the last two or three days," and then she brought many charges against him, and complained of the martyr dom she had often been called upon to endure from his impetuous disposition. I knew that for years .be hacl bowed undcl' his

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A Cl1A1UCTER. 67 oppression, but I sighed to t),ink how every spark of affection must haye been extinguished, ere she could nt such a timo speak so dispru'agingly of the husband of her youth. And yet, she had once loved bim with fervour. She had listened for his homeward step, and with throbbing heart had welcomed his return. Oh, better far for death to break the ehain of earthly love, than for the corroding rust of indiffe rence gradually to consume it, but still better when, one in faith and hope, we learn to bear each other's burdens, and being heirs together of the grace of life, look forward to the blessed time when we shall sit together in heavenly plaees. When I turned towards Mr. Walker his eyes were open. He pressed my hand, and thanked me for coming, adding that he was undeserving of sueh kindness. 'fhcre is something more than an opiate at work here," I thought, and I inwardly llrayed that it might be so. I hopefully remembCl'ed the Prophet's words"They also that erred in spirit shall come to understanding, and they that murmured shall learn doctrine. "Jesus snith unto her, 'Mary,''' he slowly repeated. "Oh, Mr. Scott, you cau scarcely tell

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68 A CnIRACTEll. what comfort those words brought to my soul. There was love in the tone, and she knew her master. He has spoken to me in love," he con tinued, and the tears rolled down his cheeks, "and now I know that I am poor, and wretched, and miserable, and blind, and naked. My good works What an idea I-all "in-stained and polluted as my best actions are." Then partially rising, and supporting himself on his left arm, in a voice that almost startled me from its solemnity, "But he has wrought out a perfect righteousness for me," he said; "he has r edeemed us from the curse of the law, being made a curse for us." Here, then, was the work accomplished at which I had so vainly laboured; accomplished without even man's instrumentality. Prayerfully had he studied ![jnny's bible, and redeeming lov e had melted the hard impenetrability of his soul, and in the softened heart-soil, humility was the first plant that appeared. I am sure he thought himself the chief of sinners. The change was wonderful. I could only silently look at the altered expression of his countcno.nce: all fear had passed away. There he lay he who through life had been restless and disquieted, painfully irritable in the slightest illness, now calm in acute suffering, looking forward from

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A CHARACTER 69 that miserable room, with a hope full of immortality, to the Heavenly City. If any man runong you seemeth to be wise, l o t him become a fool, that he may be wise." Mr. Walker seemed to lie as a little child at the feet of J esns, and in a manner that I have seldom met with, spoke of the Saviour as near and present with him. I havo often mourned a want of this realising love, even runongst sincere Christians. I havc watched the affectionate wife, whose eyes grew tearful at the vcry mention of a passing anxiety of her husband's, listen with unaccountable coldncss to the tale of Calvary. And yet we should be indig nant if our love to God were doubted. We walk by sight, not by faith; our affections do not go forth as they should to Him we have not seen; no marvel, then, that there arc so many mourners in Zion, for with lukewarm spirits such as these, the joy unspeakable Can never dwcll. These things ought not so to be Mr. Walker regretted vcry much the sad wny in which he had neglected his family, and we prayed together for his wife and daughter. It ,vas a stormy mght: sudden heavy showers, with much lightning. There was a great d e al of

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70 A CrrAlUCTER. woodland at the back of the house, arrd the lizards croaked, the snakes hissed, the crickets chll'Ped, and the cashaw trees threw heavily against the verretians their hurderr of min-drops. I sat hy Mr. Walker all night, and the Jamp was dimly burnirrg when the grey dawn of a cloudy morning an unusual thing between the tropicsmade the desolate apartment look more wretched than ever. Oh, how I pitied Mr. Walker-no heart was there to watch over him in yearning love. Mrs. Walker was in the hall; Bella was in bed; the nurse was sleeping soundly. The dogs began to bark, and the cocks vehemently to crow. MI. .. Walker murmured Minny's name; then he told me he was dying, but begged me not to call any one. He looked on the eastcrn sky, and smjJingly said, The night is far spent, the day is at hand." And so it was. The evcrlasting morning was even then dn wning on his soul. Another moment, and he was no longer an inmatc of that desolate hons e He had done with fear and care and sorrow, and entered into the joy of his Lord. Would you believe, that the next day things went on mu c h as usual, only somc preparations were made

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A CJLUtACfER. for Mr. Walker's interment in the evening. Bella actnally whispered a langh when I bade her adieu, and Smudge's teeth looked joyous as ever. I was grieved beyond measure at the iudill'crence of that household. Not one there mourned for the broken chain. Mrs. Walker looked grave, but it was the stndied appearance of one who thought it proper to be serious. I could not mistake-no grief was there. Mr. Walker was beyond the reach of all this cold ness. lIe had, in the lIouse of his God, a place and a name, better than that of sons and daughters, even nn everlasting name, that could not be cut off. I

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CHAPTER III {!i;pt jnnmkrn I WA.S staying at a small coffee plantation for change of air, having almost promised my dear wife, from whom I was to be absent for two months, that I would remain idle, when I received a pressing letter from Mr. Simmons, a gentleman with whom I had lately become acqua.inted, earnestly entreating me to visit his daughter. Such a summons I could not conscientiously disregard, and early the next morn ing I was on my way to that gentleman's lowland resid e nce. The mountnjns were all around me, and in the sea of mist from which their summits indis tin ct l y rose, they appeared like islands studding an Indian Archipelago. At a wincling of the road I lookecl down on th e rising sun, which was as a

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TnE FORSAKEN BYIDE. 73 bridegroom coming out of his chamber, rejoicing IlS a strong man to run a race." Rapidly I descended the hill, and long ere tbe glittering dews were dried by the scorching sun heams, I had arrived at the low dwelling. Oh, that house! It WIlS deep in the country-in Jamaica's country-and those who have never left England can form no idea of such solitude. The wild cllShaw trees surrounded the mansion; nay, through the floor of the back piazza, one of those trees in its llDruly growth had protruded, and WIlS flourish ing there in unabllShed luxuriance. "I must be mistaken," I thought, for I had never before visited Mr. Simmons, IlS IlScending the hroken stone steps I e ntered the hall, through the mllSsive mahogany floors, which from their encllSement in dust, seemed not to have been closed for years. As I advanced into the dreary room not n living being was to be seon. It might have been sixty feet in length. A very old-fllShioned sofa stood at one end, wbilst the other WIlS adorned by II black mahogany side-hoard, heavily carved. I say black, because time had taken from the mahogany its usual colour, and the cocoa nut oil with whi c h it had been profus ely polished, no doubt added in some degree to its sablo appear ance. A dining tablo much in the snIDe ponderous I 2

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TDE FOUSA In:N ImIDE. style, and a few high-backed chairs, completed the furniture of the apartment. I walked up and down in the hopes that my boots would summon some one to arrest the progress of an intl1lder. There were two largo mirrors on each side of the arched doorway; minors did I say? they reflected but shadows of the fonns presented to them, for as I stood before them that which met my gaze would have been an excellent copy for one of thoso spirituul beings w hioh our superstitious fancies clothe in shadows from the tomb. 'fuming from these looking-gla sses to tho old fashioned winuows, I saw traced with [l dip.mond on one of the small panes, "Bertha Hamilton, 1788," and underneath in a somewhat stronge r hand was written, "Horace Maruey." And can it be, I thought, that this fragile glass has stood unhanned for so many years, whilst the young, the strong, and the beautiful, have been swept away like grass by the seythe of death? There were many panes broken around; why then was this preserved? Age had not at that time quelled the romance of my disposition, and how far my ima"o-ination might have carried me I know not, but at that moment a loud Hi !" arrested my attention, and looking round, I saw a large black woman with a red turban and long

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TUE FORSAKEN lmmE. 75 gold ear-rings. She wore a white cotton body, a very sliort dark blue petticoat, and neither shoe nor stocking covered her feet. I believe I looked startled, for she smiled, and her very white teoth relieved in a measure the monotonous appearance of her conn tenance. My n am 0 is Scott," I said, "and I have come here, at the request of Mr. Simmons, to see his daughter, who is, I understand, dangerously ill." She did not appear in the least to comprehend me, but after staring at me for some time, she said, "'Me go bring Missis." After waiting for more than three quarters of an hour in this very desolat.e apartment, a lady entered, and introducing herself as Mrs. Simmons, took her seat beside me Although many years had passed since I visited Logwood Rall, I perfectly remember that lady's appearance. She was rather stout, and might have been forty-eight or fifty years of age. ReI' face was very red, but this colour did not con fiue itself to her cheeks-forehead, nose, all wore the same hue. She had on a bright green silk dress, mnde quite in the fashion of other days, and exceed ingly tumbled. There was an ill-conducted, or if I may so express myself, Il sort of plebeian hauteur in her manner; it was pride without dignity, gaucherie, but not modesty. ReI' thoughts, I soon discovered, I 3

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76 THE FORSAKEN BRIDE. seldom ranged beyond her stores and her poultry yard, her unruly servants, and her lack of town luxuries in her secluded situation. During breakfast time her tone was unchanged j it was one unvaried note of murmur in the midst of abounding comforts. Whenever I attempted to express my sense of the excellent repast I was enjoying, it seemed bnt to touch a chord in her heart that vibrated to reminis cences of better times j and when she had completed her hearty meal, for she plentifully partook of the many dishes in spite of their culinary inferiority, she rose from the table without one breath of thankfill. ness to him who had thus blessed her in her basket and her store, and as she stood in the back piazza, giving orders for the day, the BaIDe querulous cadence fell on my ear, and I could not help think ing of that great gain, even godliness ,vith content ment, which is the portion of those who love the law of their Lord. "Mr. Scott," she said, rather abruptly, "my daughter Grace is very anxious to see you, but I am afraid you must postpone your visit to her till to-morrow, as she is in a state of great nervous excitement j her disease is considered to be con sumption, and Dr. Cole says she must be kept from all uunecessary agitation, I would th e refore caution you to say not.lling that may al= her. She has

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rIlE FORS'UN BRIDE. 77 ever been a kind and dutiful child to me, and our rector, Mr. Morton, told me she was as pure as an angeL" 0, Madam," I quickly replied, "that cannot be; the deep stain of sin is on us when we enter the world, and unless cleansed in the precious blood of Christ, we can never hope to enter the kingdom of heaven." "Then," she said, "you are one of those sanctified people who mean to tell her that she must suffer etemo.lly, because she will not profcss to be better than her fellow-creatures;" and quite forgetting the courtesy of manner which good taste renders so ne cessary in refined society, she turned from me with ill-concealed disgust. "Groce's grandmother," at length she observed, "put some stmuge notions in my poor child's head, and this mn.kcs her so anxious to see you." I thought of the soft answer that turneth away wmth, and looking at her as complacently as I could, "My message, dear Madam," I gently said, "is one of mercy, not of wrath, the Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek, he hath sent me to bind up the broken-hearted." Somcthing very like a "phsaw" escaped her lips, but as if recollecting herself, she converted it into a sigh.

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78 TUE FORS'XEN 1lIUDE. The dny seemed long and weary, but at length the purple twilight began to rest on the flat cashaw trees, and across the bright line of crimson in the west the bats were flitting to and fro. Dinner was served in the abundant style of Jamaica's olden days; a pro fusion of yams, a large roasting-pig at the head of the table, whilst a couple of guinea birds, with no inconsiderable portion of pepper pot, completed our first course. Mr. Simmons was a heavy-looking, quiet man. His monner seemed to be a sort of compelled resig nation to an inevitable fate. After par/Jlkjng plenti fully of Jamaica cane beverage, he became more com munjcative. Poor Grace!" he said. "Well, what be must." Here, I thought, is a field of usefulness before me, they know nothing of the comfort of religion, nothing of the privilege of being able to cast their cares on .Jesus; I was his ambassador, and yet I felt spell bound. At last I ventured to ask the old gentleman if his daughter were in a happy state of mind. "Yes, sir, yes, I believe so," he said, "and yet, poor child, she has been troubled of late." Has she nny conviction of sin, any sense of the need of a Saviour's justifying righteousness nnd par doning lo,e ?" I enquired.

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TH E FORSA KEN BRIDE. 79 "Sir," hastily intcn'upted Mrs. Simmons, who now joined us as we walked in the piazza, "if you mean to horrify her in that manner, you will hasten her death; Dr. Cole says so." I felt at first very much inclined to tell Mrs. Simmons that unless I dealt faithfully with her daughter, I had better npt enter the sick chamber, but upon reflection, I considered that I might lose the opportunity of speaking comfort to a tempest tossed soul; for from what I had heard, I began to suspect that the dying girl was earnestly seeking the narrow way to Zion. Early the next morning, after I had been strolling about the neglected und desolate looking bush-lund that was immediately around, and watching the glo rious sun rising like a kingly conqueror above the distunt mountains, scattering the mists in his pro gress, and shedding, as if in pity, some of his brightest beams on the dilapidated mansion, I perceived a very old lady approaching me, leaning on the arm of a brown girl, who had a more civilized appearanee than my sable friepd of the preoeding day. The old lady, who introduced herself to me as Mrs. Simmons, wore an ancient looking cap, for everything around me had the appearance of a hundred years ago, her dress being something in the style of costnmo that pictures give to the reign of Qucen Elizabcth. Thore was,

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80 TIlE FOBS" KEN BurDE. however, an extremely pleasant expression in her soft dark eye, and when she smiled it seemed to me the first welcome I had received at Logwood Hall. "The dear invalid will sec you after breakfast," she mildly said, "and oh, may tho blessing of the Holy Spirit rest on the word spoken." Hore, then, I learnt tho BOcret of that swoot ex pression of countenance which had so charmed me. Amidst earthly !lJ1JQeties, hers was tho spirit that stayed itself on its God. There is then, at least one," I mentally said, who will put no obstacle in my path of duty." Our denr Grace," she continued in 11 low voice, und looking up to the house, as if fearful of being heard, "our dear Grace thinks that her iniquities aro too heavy for her, and that she must sink under their pressure." "So she inevitably would," I replied, "were it not for one who says, 'Cast thy burden upon me, and I will sustain thee.''' About two hours after this conversation, I found myself at the side of Grace Sinlmons. There she sat in her pillowed chair, fair and fragile indeed, but a beautiful garden plant in the midst of surrounding desolation. She seemed to bring me back to present life, for as I have before said, everything around me tho impress of long, long ago. WllCn I entered, a

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TilE FORQAXEN lJRIDE. 81 deep but passing crimson flush overspread her cheeks. Sho put her cold hand into mine, her lips quivered, and the beating of her heart agitated the delicate white frill of her dressing-gown. The large tears forced their way from her closed eyelids. I felt the difficulty of my situation, for I saw that the least excitement must be prejudicial te her. I thought of her mothcr's CIlution, but inwardly offering a prayer for guidance, I gently whispered, "Comfort ye, com fort ye my people, saith your God. I the Lord have called thee in righteousness, and will hold thino hand, and will keep thee." "Thank you," she said, and then after praying with her, I left, promising te return in the evening. We had several long and nninterrupted conversa tions. I spoke of the many mansions in the Father's house, and of the everlasting covenant ordered in all things and sure. I teld her of the righteousness that justifies, and of the spirit that sanctifies. I reminded her that there was no condemnation te those who were in Christ Jesus, that He who had loved her had loved her with an everlasting love. I teld her that if utterly casting aside all idea of meriting heaven by anything she could do, she pleaded the finished work of J csus as her only hope, and lying in helplessness at the foot of the cross, cried, "Lord save or I perish," tho word of the Omnipotent was

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82 TUE FORSAKEN BRIDE. pledged for her sccmity; that though heaven and earth might pass away, not one jot or tittle of that word could fail "Him that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out." One morning she welcomed me with a brighter countenance, and said, "I have been trying to rest on Jesus with all my fears, and you know" she con tinued in her own playful way, "vapour cannot live neal' the suu; my doubts are vanishing in the light of His countenance." And so it really was; the morning star of peace gently arose on her soul, and she was at length enabled to cry, "I sought the Lord, and he heard me, and delivered me out of all my fears." There are some who are ready to say, "Ah, this doctrine of getting to heaven without any effort, and only through Christ, is a dangerous and easy one. We may do just as we like, and all will be right at last." Dut they are wrong. It is no easy to cast aside self on that lowly and contrite heart, the Holy Spirit must breathe its life-giving influ ence. And then these cavillers know nothing of the love that constraineth. This was beautifully exem plified by Grace. She kept a wateh even over her thoughts, lest she should grieve Him who had loved h er, and gi von himself for her. Dy the mercies of God she desired to flive up hers elf to her Redeemer,

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, TIIE ltoRSAJrnN BRIDE. 83 and the holy influence of these hlessed principles were soon visible in her daily walk; for she knew that the branch abiding in the vine must bear fruit, and that if she would continue in the Father's love, she must keep his commandments. I returned to my coffee plantation, and then again visited Logwood Rall. The rajny weather kept me there throughout the month of October, for the "gullies were down," as the negroes say, and the roads were impassable This change in the mental atmosphere of our dear invalid from cloud to sunshine, was not the work of a moment; sometimes it was desert waste around her, and then earnestly she had to call on her God; ane! Re that had mercy on her, led her, even by springs of water did he guide her. Rer growth in grace though gradual was sure, and at length that timid and shrinking girl could stand fearlessly on the borders of the river of death We sometimes had hope, but she knew from the first that her days were numbered. The light from eternity was even then making radiant to her the thought of approaching dissolution, the King of Terrors was being gradually transformed into a messenger of peace, and she, who with her own good works as passports, had been kept trembling on the borders of the narrow gulf, now looking ouly unto Jesus, was released from the K

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84 TlIE FORSAXF..N lJRIOE. bondage of fear, earnestly desiring to depart and be with Christ. Grace sometimes appeared stronger, and would often sit with us in the evening, in tho lone piazza, and very pleasant were our conversations of eternal things. It was a sad wild life for her, thnt Jnmaica home; "but Grnndmnmma's tales of the olden time often make me forget," she would say, "the present dreariness of our sombre And thllt dear old Indy's mind was fraught with the memories of other days, and well pleased were both Groce and I when she would give us from the stores of her own experience the counsel, or instructive tale. On the night of which I spenk, as I assisted Grace to the armed chair, "I have lured from Grandmnmma n promise," she smilingly said, "thnt you shall hear the window pails story to-night;" and we had not been long sented before the old lady commenced her tale :" Fifty years ago," she said, "this house was not the melancholy dwelling that it now is. Through those ancient looking doors passed mnny n glittering throng-these walls echoed to lively music those mil'rors faithfully reflected the bloom on youthful beauty's check, and tho flush on manhood's triumphant

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TIl E FORSAKEN BRIDE 85 brow. The bridal garland has been reflected therc, and amidst the laugh and song and dance, one would have been almost inclined to fancy that the end of such mirth could not be heaviness But who thllt has mixed in such an assembly, has not learned that stifled sighs and pallid cheeks are in the midst of merriment? there is evcr shadow in that sunshine, and in its loveliest music an undertone of wail. "My nnme is Mary, my two sisters were called Bertha and Estelle It was during a fine Octobcr that we left England, and in Jamaica's gayest time we arrived in Spanish Town My fathcr, Mr. Hamilton, fearing the heat of that place might prove injurious to us on our first arrival, hurried us to this his country residence, and by way of compensation for the loss of town festivities, he gave here several large parties. I was his oldest daughter, and at that time about twenty-one years of age. My sister Bertha was the beauty of the family Fail' as a lily, her tall slight form secmcd to bend ,vith the elegance of that lovely flower There was much a.nimation blended in her countenance, which is not often the case, with a swect expression of gentleness. "Estelle had a sallow complexion, and would have been plain had it not been for the fervour of her black eyes i but she was bom to command, and K 2

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86 TnE FOns"KEN DlUDE. although the youngest of us, we were ofteu completely ruled by her. Bertha was ever seeking the happiness of others, yet she hoarded human affection with a care that somo would have cnlled selfish; an ungentle word would blanch her cheek, and though Estelle often rallied her on what she called her want of spirit, yet I hlLve frequently heard her express earnest admira tion of Bertha's forgiving temper. I was the most prosaic of tho party-as matter of-fltct a little body as ever you knew. I plodded on my quiet way, regretting the impetuosity of one sister, and smiling at the romance of the other. Yet I had by far tho largest share of common scnse; by this I mean that kind of knowledge that is so useful in the uninteresting, but frequently oceurring emer gcncies of every-day life. Our first bnll! It seems but as yesterday. On that pile of stoues which you can indistinctly see, stood one of the most picturesque lodgcs you can wcll imagine. On the night of which I speak, a covered walk led from that spot to this doorway, prottily illuminated by coloured lamps. The Governor and his lady were amongst our first guests, and thnt now desolate-looking hall was soon filled by everyone of any consequenco in thi s !'mt of the island.

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TILE FOJlSAKEN BRIDE. 87 How my father could persuade them to come so many milcs from town I know not, but so it was, and before ten o'clock tho chandeliers shone on many II lovely brow, the martial tones of mili tary music stirred many a youthflll heart, and the light and joyous step was bounding in the happy dance. Bertha was, I thought, more beautiful than any there, but this might have been a sister's prutiality. She was, how ever, almost too fenrful; rualm was on her face as she clung to her father's arm. Then so many of the militnry stood round her that it per plexed and confused her. Estelle was led out to the daneo by Colonel Prescott, and I followed with a bnrrister of some note in the island. My father looked well pleased. I lost sight of Bertha, for the room was crowded, but after the first dance was over I found her in tho back pIazza. I shall never forget her appearance. She was leaning back in a low cushioned chair; her clenr muslin dress and pale blue sash being gently agitated by the land breeze, whilst at her right hand stood a fine-looking militnry man in the very act of present ing to her a bunch of grapes. She seemed afraid of her companion, whom she introduced to me as Captain Manley. "There was something imposing, though not K

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88 altogether pleasing in his appearance. He had not the tone of flattery to which ladies in a boll room are accustomed. If Was Hamilton does not wish to engage her self to me for another dance, let it be so,' he said, and his proud lip curled with an expression of haughtiness. "Bertha hesitated for a moment, and then nnswered," 'I will dance with you.' He offered her his arm, and I soon lost sight of them in the mazes of the assembly. Now oll this time we had not one thought of Him who W88 even then about our path, and acquainted with oll our ways. We rose in the morning high in spirits, without a breath of thanks giving to Him who had made us to dwell in safety. Our evening parties were frequently repeated; our souls were held in life by the God to whom we never gave one grateful thought, and, in the dissipation around us, I doubt if a serious idea of eternity ever found a place in our eareless hearts. Well may the psn.lmist say, 'Lord, what is man, that thou art mindful of him? or the son of man, that thou so regardest him? "But Estelle tho impelious Estelle was en gaged to be married to the Honourable Mr. Trevor,

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'XH}; }'ORSAKEN DRIDE. 89 and the bridal day was fix ed. He could provide her with luxuries, and give her what the world calls a good establishment, !IIld she was glad; yet I am sure that, even at tbis time, her heart was not altogether satisfied, for there is in everyone of us, though we may recklessly turn from the way of life, a craving for something beyond what earth can give, the highest joys of mortality being ever insufficient to satisfy the yearnings of the soul that is immortal. My dear father, too, was altogether a man of the world he had his portion in tbis life. Oh, had he but drunk from the river of crystal water that maketh glad the City of God, how would he have turned from the mud-stained streams of earthly enjoyment, but he knew nothing of that peace such as the world giveth not, and in business and dissipa tion, in the favour of man, and in the advancement of his family, he olmost succeeded in hushing the still small voice that faintly whispered of death and judgment. CaptJ), in Manley was a constant visitor at our house, and a great favourite with my father. It certajnly was not similarity of tastes that drew them so together, for the one was fond of literary occupa tions, whilst agricultural pursuits were those in which the other delighted, but there was a fascination about Captain Mauley, that to many seomcd irrcsiBt-

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90 THE l:"ORSA. KEN DRIDE. ible. What it wns that so attacbed you to him, it wa.. impossible to sny. 1'hat stern glance would surely keep in subordination any attempt at intimacy; but it was not so: in spite of the haugbty aspect and forbidding frown, he had at times a winning power, and it was his very exercise of this power that kept him from being a favourite with me. He would draw you, by mental force, to his very heart, and then laugh at tho weakness that had llnresistingly submitted to his influence. "His daring and openly avowed contempt for many round bim, though startling at first, had a piquancy in it that made one often listen against their better judgment to the bitter sarcasm and caricatured incident in the lively anecdote. "Beltba, the gentle, enthusiastic Bertha, was charmed spell-bound; and yet it was an uneasy affection, It troublous love. No slave was ever under sterner control than she. The chnin was arounu her I do not say it was galling, still she was no longer free. 1 believe that had Captain Manley told her to walk into the ocean, she wonld have done his bidding. It was in this piazza that they continually met. I wns sitting ncar them when they wrote their names on that glnss. At last, nil was arranged. IIe wus to return to

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TnE FORSAKEN BlUDE. 91 Englund to settle some matters relative to property, and then again to yisit J ammcn to claim our gentle 8i tel' as his bride. Bertha became very sad, but her extreme look of sorrow was of course attributable to this separation. Once or twice I overheard Captain Manley in vehe ment and loud conversation with her. I did feel, from 'Ill inexpressible manner about him, that he was not calculated to make happy the tender hemt of Bertha. And, poor child, she was so wholly devoted to him that one trembled for her. Though she would breathe a prayer to Heaven for his safety in her confused and undefined yearning for protection beyond what eart h could give, yet she had no idea of going to her God for direction and strength; she was literally borne down by the overpowering presence of humml affection, and anxiety sat brooding on her sky. "Captain Manley wished her to leave friends and home with him, and to consent to a private marriage in Kingston, that they might retnm to England together. She was fortified by no religious principle, and her attachment was crying loudly to her to comply with his reqnest. We knew nothing of all tllis at the time, but there was a nervous rcstlessness in her mauneI', an unusual irritability abont her that could not fail to attract my attention.

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92 'I'nE }'ORSAKEN B.RIDE. "Even to Bertha, Captain Manley was not all tenderness. Her pillow was frequently watered by her tears, and yet 80 complete was her thraldom, that I believe she would have suffered anything rather than have opposed his wishes. Oh, had she at that time known of Him who giveth power to the faint; could she then have east her burden of eare on the Lord, her heart would have grown calmel' even amidst the difficulties that sur rounded her. But, as I have before said, though we had been edueated at a fashionable school, and bad regularly attended Divine worship, we had never learnt the depravity of our nature, and the necessity of that entire change of heart which is only effected by the renovating power of the Holy Spirit. We were ealled Christians, but we were in heathen darkness, and, at that time, had anyone told us that the heart was deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked, I am persuaded we should havo indignantly denied the assertion, presnmp tuously confident that, amidst the refinement and elegancies of society, iniqnity in such power could never exist. We did not consider that the verdant ivy and the beautiful tendril covered the ruin, but it was a 1'nin still. We did not remember that the sunbeam sparkled on the liver, amidst whosc depths

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THE FORSA.KEN BRIDE. 93 was death. Where, then, was our Fortress and our High Tower when the shafts of temptation were around US? "Poor Bertha! In the time of trial she had no Almighty Friend to stand by her and strengthen her, and being naturally of a gentle and yielding dispo sition, she had not moral courage, though feeling miserable at her weakness, to resist Captain Manley's earnest entreaties that she would consent to a private marriage, and accompany him to England Even at this distance of time," said the old lady, I ca.nDot think but with inteDse pain of that period of our Bertha's history. Preparations for Estelle's marriage were going on, but Bertha, in sad abstrac tion, took no interest in anything. "We had at that time an old African negro, called' Princess,' who acted as housekeeper. This good creature, though fond of us all, had an especial regard for Bertha. I have seen her, when the dear girl was ill'essed for a party, sit on the floor with folded arlllS, lost in admiration of her young missis, and when her feelings found vent in words, numerous were the similes she employed to give expression to her thoughts. 'You see him wear diamond,' she would say; God gib him brighter jewel than that. You no see

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94 THE FORSAKEN nmm:. him eye, how bim 'pal'kle like firo fly? Hi my rnissis Old Princess get up eorly, him see cloud red, him see bright prickly peor, but bim see noting like young missis' pretty face.' And then the finale-it was not a sigh, nor a groan, but an intonation of admiring ragord that could not be expressed in language. Bcrtha and I occupied that lorge bedroom in the south-western corner. On the nigbt of which I speak, my deal' sister had fallen asleep before I had retired to rest, and it was Princess who fu'ew my attention to her. "Poor Pickney," said the old woman, in her uncouth deep-toned voice; but there was feeling in the expression, and as I turned to look at Bertha, I was stortled, nay shocked, by the very sunken appeorancc of her face.. How WIlS it I had not noticed this before. The deep dark line so clearly traced undcr the closed eye, the very pale check and reduced form. She murmured Horace!' and then, with a shudder, said,-" 'No, never! I cannot do it. My father! my sisters! Is it true, 01' is it a dream? 'Missis,' said old Princess, 'sea always make noise before sto! m come.' I did not exactly understand the old woman, but I saw she feared all was not right.

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TOE } ORSAXEN 95 "It might have been midnight when I was awakened by a gentlo lU'm clasped round me. It was Bertha. 'May I not sleep with you, denr Mary,' she said, 'for my dmams are troubled and my heart is snn.. Would that I were in the quiet grave,' she continued, with an energy of manner which convineed me it was not merely the temporary separation from Captain Manley that distressed her I told her of the expressions she had used whilst sleeping, and I confessed to her that my knowledge of Captain Manley's character convinced me that he was urging on her gentle spiri.t BOme line of conduct from which her better naturo revolted, aud then she told me all. But to meet him the next day, she said, would be impossible. Oh, how he had wound himself round every fibre of her loving heart! As I have before said, her feelings were held in no check by rcligion, and her affection for him was idolatry "The first gmy light of morning was nlready tracing the outline of the venetianed windows, and I was still quite undecided as to the mode of conduct which it would be best to pursue. "It was five o'clock when Princess made her appearance as was her custom to waken us for a morning ride, and I believe I expressed to Bertha, as L

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96 TITE l!"ORSAKEN BRIDE. the faithful creature was standing near us, the per plexity in which I felt myself. A sudden look of intelligence glowed on the negro's face, and she said, 'God Almighty no help missis ? Me poor neger, but Him listen to Princess. Him tell Princess, "Knock-for true door shut," but Him open when Princess knock hard.' 'Try, my sweet young missis,' she continued; 'you know him kind Fader, though we no see him. Princess lub bim-bim good to Princess.' Would you believe I was at that time in sueh a state of ignorance, that I knew not of tho precious promise 'Ask, and ye shall receive; seek, and yo shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you;' and when the illitorate negro spoke thus feelingly of the mercies of her Heavenly Father, J felt at an immeasumble distanoe from Him whom, having not seeu, 8he loved. Yet, even then, I was foroibly struck with the idea, that the wisdom of this world was foolishness with God, for I felt my inferiority even to this o lmo st semi -barbar ous creature No time was to be lost; and whon Prinoess left the room, I f e ll on my knees, and I believe I prayed, that is, I really preferred a request for the first time in my life, to God, through ChJ:ist, for I had l e arnt that we could not approach the Omnipotent but thl'Ough his Son. I had often gone through the

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l 'ITE FORSA.KEN BRIDE. 97 form of prayer, but I am SUTO this was the first earnest desire I had over breathed Guide me, 0 God,' I said; 'help me to (let wisely in this trying matter.' I possessed not even a bible. You may think this strange, but fifty years ago, in Jamaica, religion was not only altogether an 1m fashionable thing, but those who desired in any way to be guided by its pmcepts, were shunned by all classes of society, and avoided as persons with whom any intercourse would be dangerous. I remember, however, that I opened my prayct' book, and my eye fell upon those words in the Forty second Psalm, 'Put thy trust in God;' could it he that through the spirit-gloom in which I was enve loped a ray of' heavenly light had pierced? Surely, He whose name is Wonderful, was then at my side, though I knew it not. My plan was formed I would speak to Captain Mauley. Bertha's heart was a preeious thing, and must not be heedlessly broken. W hat was there to prevent an immediate marriage between these two loving hearts? It is true, pecnniary matters were not all arranged, but this could afterwards be settled. llertha's portion was almost of itself a sufficieney. Captain :Mrulley could return to England with his bride-given to him with a fath er's blessing, for I L 2 -

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98 TU }'ORS.-\.JLF:K BRIDE. felt certain I could persuade him to agree to this arrangement. Bertha had, it appeared to me, been standing on the very borders of a fearful prccipicc; she had turned from the path of duty to tread the dreary mazes of concealment and error, but nil would yet be right. ThUll I cheered my droop ing sister As I entered the breakfast room, I felt a little uervous, and could scarcely meet Captain Manley's searching glance. There he sat, at that very table. Bertha met him timidly, and pleaded hcadach in excuse for pallid looks. Poor child! the tea-cup trembled ns sho raised it to her head, and I saw that Captain Manley was not satisfied Once or twice his eye seemed to rest with scorching influence on poor Bertha, if one might judge from the crimson that burnt on her fair cheeks, as she felt, but did not meet his gaze. It wns one of those stilly mornings when the taroy sea-breeze seems to have over-slept itself, for no trace of its path was yet on the quiet sea, and it was eleven o'clock. To escape the hcat of the sitting-room, we strolled into the back piazza. Estelle was busy with some fancy-work preparation for her bridal dress, and Bertha and I were now alone with Captain Mauley.

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THE l'ORSAKEN DamE. 99 My courage almost forsook me, and then, even then, in my worse than heathen ignorance, I breathed a prayer to the negro's God for help. "I quietly told Captain Manley all that had passed, and how Bertha had revealed to me the secret. His passion was unbounded, and in his language to the trembling girl he utterly forgot the restraint which the etiquette of civilised life imposes on the langnage and conversation. He accused her of duplicity, and even falsehood. It was useless to argue with him. He would not allow me to propose my plan. "Oh, how the peor girl seemed to writhe under his blighting influence. Forsake him-turn from him-no; it seemed to me as if even his dark frown she valued more than another's smile. She attempted to hold his hand, but he roughly threw her from him. No word of murUlur pa sse d her lips; sho felt that she alonc was to blam e 'I have deserved it all,' she said; 'I should have told you at first I could not agree to your proposition. "Well, in a day or two, he seemed sternly reCOll ciled to his fate, and when my fathor proposed that both sisters sho uld have tho same bridal day, Captain Manley ealmly aoquiesoed in the arrang e ment. L 3

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100 Tn }i; :FOR$A KEN DnrnE. His look spoke of anything but happiness, !lml one evening, when he sat with Bertha at his side, I rallied him on his dejccted appearance; ho turned hastily from mc, and, stern as he was, I found I had surprised bim almost to tears. It was the evening before the day appointed for this double wedding that I observed llertha had been weeping. Princess had remarked it too. 'Young missis,' she said, as she loitered in the piazza, with the store keys in her hand, 'you neber see big tree, how' trong him 'tand, till the poison creeper hug him and hug him till him die.' "I needed no explanation One glance at Bertha, who was thoughtfully sitting in the opposite piazza, suffieed to solve the little parable. I thought of my sweet sister as some six months before she had been, one of the happiest amongst us, the beautiful though fragile tree, and I weII knew it was this ill-fated attachment that had coiled round her young heart, withering the fair boughs of youthfal gladness, and blighting the green leaves of hope. But wherefore was she thus sad? In a few more hours would not the bridal morning dawn on the eastern bills? Estelle was in high spirits, and it was only Bertha's deje c ted appearance that caused her to look at all serious. Captain Manley had l eft for Kingston a day or

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THE }'OlISAKEN BRIDE. 10 1 two before, and I thought he bid Bertha farewell with much more AAtlness than the occasion war ranted. "Well, the thirteeuth of January-the day fixed for the nuptials of my two sisters-at length arrived. Many guests were assembled at an early hour, and side by side, in their elegunt dresses, the two sweet girls entered that apartment. It seems to me but as yesterday," said the old lady, as she looked in on the large hall, and for a few moments was lost in thought. Estelle's cheeks were flushed, and her eyes more than usually brilliant The pale orange wreath circled each fair brow, but Bertha's face almost rivalled in whiteness this delicate blossom. She had much difficulty in preventing herself from bursting into tears. This was, of course, attributable to the excitement natural on such an occasion, but I felt assured that nnxiety in some way pressed heavily on her. "Mr. Trevor was soon at Estelle's side, and then the clergyman arrived; for marriages in those days were generally performed by special license in private houses. Where could Captain Manley be ? Vanous were the STuil1ises as to the probable cause of his detention. Bertha's very lips grew white, but she was altogether

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.. 102 THE DRIDE. uninterested in the inquiI"ies, as if she knew that all search for Captain Manley would be nseless. We persnaded her to take a little wine, for she could scarcely staJld. Messoges were sent to Spanish Town, Kingston, and Port Royal, and when in the evening no tidings could be heard of Captajn Manley, my father led Estelle forward, aJld in a short time she was the con tented, though I cannot say rejoicing, bride of Mr. Trevor, for the sadness of thc party was universal. No one could look at :Bertha. Even the old rector, who, I am sorry to say, was a very worldly-minded man, was softened into unusual seriousness. :Bertha was very calm, if we can call that com posure which was, as it were, the marble stillness of despair; and but for an occasional sigh, as if her very heart would break, a stranger never would have guessed the intensity of her snffelwg. The bridal pair lcft us, and one by one the guests dispersed. :Bertha retired to her room-to her bed. "Oh, how she needed comfort, heavenly comfort, and I knew not how to give it to her. Strange as it may soem, that old African housek ee pcr was the only one amongst us who could offer anything like con solation. 'Massa, J e8US Christ,' she would say, 'is gonc

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TIlE FOBS" KEN nIl UIE. away for true, but Him send the Holy comfort. Missis must keep a good heart. 'tand behind cloud to seo if rain do good.' 103 Spirit to God no "But she was speaking of what we then knew not.hing. The natural man perceiveth not the things of the Spirit of God. "Towards morning Bertha fell into a troubled slumber, and the old woman, thinking that I, too, was sleeping, :prayed aloud at our bedside. Her negro dialect was strong, and her gestures and tones wildly earnest. "Truly she wrestled in prayer with her God for my snffering sister. In her own langullge sho asked that a ray of heavenly Ii" might pierce the darkness of this sorrow, au she was peculiarly an'lious that not from any worldly source of consolation, but from God himself might spring my dear sister's comfort. And then this faithful creature told us of peace, that earthly trouble had not power to mar. The next morning Bertha was in a raging fever, and for some hours her life was in imminent danger. Her beautiful hair WIlS all cut off, and as the long locks fell around, the faded orange flowers were clinging to the dissevel'ed tresses. Old Princess was invaluable as a nurse, and by

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104 FOUSAXEN URInE. the hlessing of God our precious sister gradually recovered It was from this n egro servant that I reeei vcd my first impressions of mligion. It was indeed affecting to hear her explaining the simple doc trine s of Gospel truth. We had accomplishments, and what the world ca ll s desirable know l e dge. We had, as it were, gathered for our store fragments of glittming glass, whilst this simple creature being divinely guided, had taken hold of the pearl of great price, and placed it in hel' bosom, She had met with a man of God, a faithful missionary, and he had set the light of truth before her with his Master's eneouraging message 'Believe and live,' and who knows where the bread thus cast upon the waters may, in after days, spring up. Little did that ambassador of God think that we, through her, were to be warned of our danger, and arrested in the broad path that leadeth to destruc tion. But 80 it was: from day to day this old negl'O set before us the mercy of God in Christ Jesus, and dwelt much on the satisfying nature of true religion, saying that earth! y friends Ilnd earth! y resources could nevel' heo.! the wounded heUlt,

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THE FORSAKEN BurnE. 105 All this, I must tell you, sho expressed in that original way so peculiar to the negro. 'When young missis bruiso him arm,' she would sometimes say, 'him put plantain leaf, but whon him heaJrt cut, planta.in leaf no reaoh thero. No, no, Massa Jesus Christ's love only cure that.' "Her affectionate concern for Bertha's spiri tual state was most touching. She had herself been so refreshed by the waters of life, that shn longed that my poor sister's troubled soul should wash and be cleansed in the same heavenly stream. Her memory was stored with texts, which she told me sho ropeated every morning, lest she should forget them, for she could not read. 'Blessed be God,' said the old lady, 'the glad tidings of salvation are now more generally diffusod throughout our island, though we have dark corners still, which are full of the habitations of oruelty, but at that timo, though we were professedly Ii Protestant people, no Romanists could have dreaded roligious instruotion for tho negro population moro than wo did.' Prinoess carofully ooncealed hoI' biblo, for although, as I have before said, sho could not read, the very sight of it seemed a blessing to her. I promised, however, daily to I'ead it to her. 'Then me live to see this day!' she exclaimed.

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106 TIfF. FORS. \.KEY llRfDE. Him no forget old Princess,' and breaking out into the language of the Psalmist,-' I will sing of the mercics of the Lord for ever,' she said, then over come by her grateful feelings she burst into a flood of tears. Princess was a beautiful p,xample of the satis fying and sustajning power of religion. As far as tills world was concerned, an uncouth, hulf-civilized being, a s lave in a foreigu land. What comfort, what hope had she? The consolations of the Gospel were with her, and her hop e was full of immor tality. A despised, illiterate African, yet her soul magnified the Lord, and her spirit rejoiced in God her Saviour. I am sure she sometimes forgot all around hor, as her soul communed with Him who is invisible. Many were tbe similes and simple arguments willch she used to convince Bertha tbat ouly in Christ could her weary soul find peace. 'Look, missis, at the big sea bird, how him fly from wave to wave, him hab no rest till bim get into rock-hole,' and we knew she meant that that rock was Christ. Slowly our poor Bertha recovered her strength, but she camo amongst us again an altered cr e ature. She hac! prayerfully studied the Holy Scriptures,

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TUE } ORSA](EN DRIDE. 107 she had learnt that whom the Lord loveth he chus teneth, and in her present triol she saw that he was dealing with her as a child. Rhe confessed to me, that when Captain Manley had bid her farewell, he had said that in all probability they would never meet agajn, and that it was in complia.nce with his parting injunction that she had consented to dress herself as a bride, when she too well knew Capt.ain Manley would not appear on that day. There was something dark in his history, some depth that we could not fathom, but the barrier of divine mercy had saved Bertha from the pit of destruction, and we could only abundantly utter the memory of His great goodness whose name is Jehovah, and who is the Most High over all the earth "We were not, however, without our t,ial.. My father insisted that this heavy sorrow had affected Bertha's reason, and he compelled us both to join in the giddy round of earthly frivolity. As I retrace our path here," said the old lady, I canDot help feeling what especilll cause we have for gratitude to Him who upheld us amidst SUlTounding difliculties. Bertha had a peculiarly attraetive appearance, and a gentle and winning manner, and now that her spirit was enlightened by Divine Grace, there was a }[

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108 TITE FORSAXT:;N BRIDE. fascination about her that few could withstand. She did speak the word in season to many, and in eternity only may we l earn the blessed results of her labours of love. I man"ied Mr. Simmons some few years after the events of which I have been speaking, and my patri mony was this country residence and the lands attached to it. Bertha, after am f"ther's death, took up hcr abode with us. Estelle oftcn came to sec us, but her visits were short The world was her idol, sho lived engrossed by its cares and pleasures, and died, I fear, ,vithout a knowledge of a better and cndming substance. IIow I hav e outlived them all!" said the old lacly, as she wiped the tears from her eyes Princess died at a very advanced age, resting, in the most childlike security, on Him who had fed hcr all her life long. Doubt had no place in the simplicity of her belief j she took hold of the promises, and bound them as a breastplate on her heart, and as she breathed h er last in the same sweet SJlirit of confiding trust, I could not help thinking of those words, He that is greatest among you, let him become the least.' "Bertha lived many ycars after that sad bridal mormng. We nevcr more heard of CaptSlin Mauley, but

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'rHE l'ORSAKEN lJRIDE. 109 my sister always spoke of her bitter trinl as having been sent in love to dmw her back from the danger ous earecr of worldly enjoyment. "We are told to keep the heart with all diligence," said the old lady, "and my experience of life has con vinced me, that even when Christians allow earthly affection to stand in the way of daily communion with thoir Redeemer, whenever they suffer plans of future earthly happiness to interfere with that first seeking of the Kingdom of God enjoined in Scripture, sorrow, in some shape or other, is sure to arrest their steps; they are reminded by the sudden calamity, or bitter disappointment, that they have no continu ing city here, and happy for them if they are thus driven back agai n to seek for the rest that remameth for tho people of God." The old lady's tale was finished, and as I looked the next morning at the names on the window, I could not help feeling that there were events in real life more touching than fiction could paint them, and I pmyed that the sweet home love I was then enjoying might not dmw me from my God, but that I might, constrai ned by his mercies, dedicate myself more ontircly than eVOI' to his sorviee, 1d. 2

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110 TilE } 'OllS.\IiEX DUIDE. I retul1led to my duties in the Port Royal moun tains, and for two or tbree montbs we heard notbing more of Grace Simmons, wben ono evening, jnst as Mrs. Scott and I were taking an early tea, we were surprised by a visit from Mr. Simmons, and his mourning dress told us wbat be had scarcely power to communicate Yes; dear Grace bad fullen asleep; she had entered into tbo joy of her Lord. 1'0 the last she had no fear. It would be dreary," she said, "but my Saviour walks beside me, and the shadows disperse at his He then, with much humility, told me that he now desired to serve his daughter's God. He con fessed that throughout life othcr Lords had had dominion over him, but that the peace he had wit nessed in his dear child's dying chamber had con vinced bim of the value of that treasure which, hidden in the field of worldly occupation, he had hitherto so madly neglected. I thought of the seed cast on the waters long, long ago. I thought of the faithful old negro, and I remembered that they who turned many to righteous ness should shine as the stars for ever and ever "But look, my dear young friends," said the Mountain Pastor, "how magnificently the moon i s

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BRIDE. 111 rising behind ttlOse dark mountains. It is getting late. The night-blowing jasmin is almost oppress ing us with its strongly perfumed breath, and you must be weary of my long tale, even though I have told you of some whose life was fragrant, and whose end was peace."

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CRAP'l'ER IV. l\mllrctionl! of a in 'di:nwn. I CAN never forget that cathedral church During the early sacrament, what a soft light stole through those windows, whilst the birds seemed to j oin in our thanksgiving, und forth a choral hymll of pmise. Then the morning service, when the church was crowded, and the unruly sea breeze swept the wide straw hats from many an old woman in the central aisle A lady and gentleman I noticed; very quiet and attentive they were He was a handsome man, and there was an earnest anxions look on the face of his young ,vife that more than ollce nttracted myatten-

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llCOLLEC'ffONS 01' \ YEAR IN S P .\NISH TOWN. 113 tion. Thoy woro rogular attendants every Sabbath morning, and I was interested about them, I can scarcely say why. Not many days after my return from Lemon Grove, and whilst I was doing dnty for a dear invalid friend in Spanish Town, a negro boy made his appenrnnco at my door, stating that lfrs. Raymond was anxious to sec me. Massa must como soon," he s.'lid, and then in a moment he was gone, oven before I had tinlC to learn Mrs. Raymond's address. I lost no time in setting off, asking as I went for direction. I found that Mrs. Raymond lived at Miss Doll's hotel or lodging house; and as I was slowly ascend ing the stone staircase, an old negro woman having ascertained that I was tho minister, conducted me to a sitting-room opening on the back piazza. The strong sea breeze was tossing about the boughs of a large mango tree close to the window, and ruth lessly scattering in the dust the delicate blossoms of the BOuth sea rose that was seeking to twine itself round tho fra"oile frame-work of the piazza doorway. Thus, I thought, tho human heart will cling to what is weak as itself, till the blast of death tears the hold away. I heard some one almost noiselessly approaching,

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114 RECOLLECTIONS OF and looking up, I at once recognised the lady who had been so regular in her attendance at church I put out my hand to h e r, and was just going to speak, when, with a look of wild alano, she held up h er finger, as if to entreat me to be silent. Her appcarance on this our first meeting is still vividly before me. Her long dark hair was all un bound, and fell in disorder about h er shoulders. Her complexion was sallow, but her eyes had a radiance that I have seldom seen equalled, although despair bordering on distraction was clearly visible in hcr solTowfulJy expressive glance. It was as if grief had kindled the fire, that gave the painful brilliancy to her look. Her white dressing gown was carelessly put on, and she wore no shoes. I tbink she had altogether forgotten this omission. Her whole mind was evidently absorbed by some consuming grief. Hush," she said, "it would frighten him if ho knew you were here." Compose yourself, dear lady," I gently said, "of whom are you speaking?" "Do you not know that my husband is dying?" she replied. He asked for some one to pray with him; I tried, but all in vain. Long ere this I should have sought pardon for him, Mr. Scott. Mrs. Miller told bim that he had never done any hano to his neighbours, that he had often taken the sacrament,

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A YEAn IN SP-\..'fISJJ TOWN. 115 and that he was sure to go to heaven. This was all wmng, terribly wrong," she continued, '" There is none that doeth good, no not one.' In Christ only we have forgiveness of sins through his precious blood; but I had not courage to tell dear Ed win this, and now his thoughts are clouded. Oh, what shall I do ?" she coutinued with vehemence. Would to God I could die for him !" I thought of Mr. W aIker, and how unloved and uncarcd for he had passed from life. Thcn she took me by the hand, looking all the while, if I may so express myself, as if her thoughts were not with her-as if they had ne'\"er left the room where her husband lay. She led me gently right into his presence, although a few moments before she had feared to let him know that I was in the house. What a wlook was there! How rapid had been the pregress of disease! This was Wed nesday' and on the Sunday he had twice attended the cathedral church, looking so strong in health, that one would have supposed it would have taken a longer time, even for fever to accomplish such a work. He looked restlessly at me, and, I thought, per ceived there was a stranger in the room, but it wus evident his mind was wandering.

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116 UCOLLECTlONS O}' Mrs. Uaymond knelt solemnly nt his bedside, and literally drew me on my knees All Ihis passed so hastily, that I felt a little con fused. "Behold the Lord's hand is not shortened that i t cannot save, neither is his ear heavy thnt it eauuot hear," I said In an instont intelligence returncd to his wild suffering face-hright living intclligcnce-" Ucpeat that ltg-.lin," he whispered I complied with his request, and added, "Call upon me and I will answer thee, and show thee great and mighty things which thou knowest not. Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt bo saved." He pnt out his hand to me and smiled, and then closed his eyes, which he never mOl'e opened Finding that I conld say no moro, I stole out of thc room, and I wns told ho breathed his last thnt night. When I returnod home I was oppressed by 11 weight of painful feeling that wus overpowering. [t is tmo I had at this timo boen little more than a fortnight in Spanish Town; with this plea I tried to stiflc the upbraidings of conscience, but it wonld not do. 'l'ime hnd been gi von me to rescue, perhaps, an

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A TIl SPANISrr TOWN. 117 immortal soul from destruction, and had I been faithful to my stcwardship? I had been a watch man in the house of Israel, but oh! had I not been sleeping at my post? It is true I had sounded the trumpet, I had deelared from the pulpit Christ and him crucified; but when the sheep had wandered, hud I searched for them on every high hill? Had I sought at their own homes my Hock, and endea voured to strengthen that which was weak, and to bind up that which was broken? Mrs. Raymond in her despair seomed to stand before me. Had I been acquainted with her at the first approach of her husband's illness, we might have prayed together, and Jesus might have stood in the midst of the two or threo assembled, and whispered peace. I had often expressed my disapproval of the anxiety that would send for a clergyman as disso lution approached, as if from his very presence there was transmitted to the departing soul a passport to heaven; but in tho present instance how deeply was I to blame! I might have been their friend when the voice of joy and health was in their dwelling, and then when sorrow came, I could have spoken of the brother hom for adversity. If over I felt the stings of remorse, it was on this occasion. Oh! how eamestly have I since endea-

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118 UECOLLECTTONS OF voured to be illstaut in season and out of season, seeking to make all those my friends to whom I Wllll sent with the message of leconciliation. Nevel' now do I see a new face in my church without endeavour ing to become acquainted with the stranger. In very many instances I have been cordially and kindly welcomed. With some, though at first coldly l'e ceived, the ice of indifference has melted before even the feebly-reflected rays of Divine love j and I be lieve that in only two instances I have been ungra ciously and determinedly repnlsed. My own heart hIlIl been refreshed as we communed together of snered things. "How precious are tby thoughts unto me, 0 God j oh, how grent is the sum of them! ],[rs. "Raymond's sister, Miss Selby, arrived from the country, and they took lodgings very near us. Poor ],[rs. Raymond was broken down by grief. Over and over again she wonld say, "Oh! I should ha,e warned Edwin of his danger j I might have reminded him that his attendance at church was a sweet proof of his affe c tion for me, and then I might have spoken of his love, who said, 'Hallow my Sabbaths, that they may be a sign between thee and me.'" Miss Selby during these conversations would sit looking most reproaehfuUy at her sister. On this

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A YEAR IN SPANISIJ TOWN. 119 occasion I remember she said, "I always told YOIl so, Mary, I knew you would oue day bewail your conduct ." But I must observe, that this was a favourite ex pression of Miss Selby's. If anything went wrong she would immediately remark, "I said so, I told you you would never succeed If the most triJling accident occurred, she never l ost the opportunity thu. afforded her of assuring you that she had cautioned you on the subject. If the dinner were late, sho had told you, at least so she would have you understand, that Sambo was becoming very idle; or if the tea were not good, she had some little while before re minded you that the water did not boil. Stmnge that no one ever remembered to have henrd her fore bodings of approaching misfortune; but for the sake of peace, no one, as far as I can remember, cver ven tured to hint that there might be some mistake in these often repeated assertions. 'l'here she would sit, resting comfortably in the brown arm-chair, with her worsted work, which en gaged much of her time, I had almost said of her affections, for most certainly there were no abtm dant outflowings of these ou those around her. How cleverly she would find out the weaknesses of others, of which they were themselves ignorant. And if we could have peeped into her mental memoranda, we N

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120 RECOLLl :CTIONS OF should have found sundry items there of the besetting sins of her neighbours. If she met with those wbo were altogether worldly she was disappointed, for she had not the fragrance of Christian love, which gives to the truth a sweet ness that often makes it endurable even to a detcrlojned opposer. In such cases she could do nothiug, but was silenced by the angry or profane remark. U nfor tunatcly it was always the timid believer she dis couraged the bmised reed, that but for one greater than she, she would have broken It has sometimes been a matter of perplex; ty to me that such characters as theso should be permitted to get, as it were, within the pale of tho professing Christian church. :Hiss Selby had taken up her lot with the people of God; sho had in a great measure conformed to their mnnners, she consented to their doctrines, she would in a moment discern what was strictly evangelical, and immediately detect any 1enn ing towards ideas which, in tho present day, we should say savoured of Tractarianism. Her de meanour was discreet, her e".-pressiollS were Scrip tural; yet lacked she one thing-the spirit of love, tho spirit of God. How often have I heUl'd her eagerly descanting on the impropriety of wearing !l rose-bud in ono' s

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A YEAlt. IN SPA.1'I'"ISH TOWN. 121 bonnet, trampling all the while on that ornament of' {\ meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price. I never should have thought so much of loss Selby, had I not been continually made lmeasy by tho conviction that tho little world around us looked on her as n Christian. But oxperienee has taught me, that it is needful for us to have some such as these amongst us, othenvise we should grow too secure in our own little enclosure; we should ima"ooine that our church was our safety, forgetting that our strength was alone in the Rock of Ages. At the end of one of the principnl streets in Spanish Town, stands an old house, in the midst of a dilapidated garden, where a solitary 80arlet cordia tree still blooms radiantly, as if to laugh at time? That spot is to me fraught with the memory of other days. Ono would scarcely believe what a look of elegance there once was about that place. A.jot cl'ellu played in a fountain which was situated in the midst of the garden, aud as you sat in the wide and shadowy piazza, it was refreshing even to look at those sparkling waters. The banks around were very groen, and the flowers in that neighbour hood grew so luxuriantly, that ali'endy they were clinging to the stono steps for sl'llport, like humau affections unable to flourish alone. The pillars of N 2

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122 RECOLLECl'IONS OF the piazza were beautifully covered with elegaut creeping plants tho wild jasmin, tho English honeysuckle, and the wax plant. Just below was n fragile English pear-tree blossoming, oh, how deli cately amongst the stranger flowers there; the sun was too scorching for it, and the dews too cbilling. I felt a pity for that tree when the rude sea breeze tossed about its slender branches, and strewed its white blossoms on the earth. But of the home party -the living flowers, I must now tell you. A most interesting famil y were the Courtcnays, and I continually fOlrod myself after the duties of the day were over, assisting the Miss Courtenays to water their rose trees, or discussing household mattcrs with their mamma, or conversing with Mr. Courtenay, who was a handsome aristocratic looking man, with a warmth of maDnor that made you feel at once at home with him. He had a great deal of whnt is called tact in society, always suiting his conversation to the time and cireumstances of the case, finding out, as it wore intuitively, tho subjeets on which you were most at home, and assisting you to run on fluently on your favourite topic. There were certainly a few points on which he was unreasonable, uDreasonable. If YOll differed from him on politics, he forgot his usual urbauity, and would violently oppose. Ho had uo notion of argument,

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A n,.R IN SPANISII TOWN. 123 although well skilled in anecdote. He was a most entertaining companion. It made one sorrowful to find that with real vital religion he was altogether unacquainted; and though from his courteous smile and cheerful manner, you might on a first acquaint ance have imagined that peace was in his heart, on more intimate association you perceived the restless disgust, the unsated yearning that is ever the portion of those whose souls are not satisfied in God. 'l'here was a charm about that family which com pelled you, I had almost said, to love them What was it that made the lights in the hall seem more cheerful than those of their neighbours? It was the 1lnion and affection that bound together that house hold. Look through those folding doors! That is Kate the eldest daughter, who site at the teble rellding. Inadvertently I ask her who was the donor of the beautiful volume in her hand, and the sudden flush mounte to her fa;r forehead, whilst the next moment, bending down her head, she contrives to conceal her face from mC by the profusion of her clustering curls. I think she murmured it was the gift of a friend, and I saw the proud smile on her father's face. He had overheard my query, and I afterwards discovered that Kate was betrothed to a gentleman highly con nected and of llu'ge propcrty. x 3

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124 mWOLLECTIONS OF Jessie, the youngest, is sitting at the piano, nnd is singing so softly (lnd s weetly, that ono is almo s t afraid to breathe, lest tbey s hould lose a note. There is a white rose in her jet black hair. How classical her features are. What a wayward girl! She lues abruptly from tllC instrument, and refuses to con tinue her song. Her fatlIer coaxes her, but no, sho does not yield, but takes her happy seat on his knee in all the petted wilfulness of a playful spoiled child. I have often wondered at the influence I had in tlIat family. Did I use it aright? It was very difficult to get at Mr. Courtenay by argnment. He tried, he said, to do his duty, and as for his imper fections, he trusted in the mercy of God! He had no notion of the herut's depravity; he owned that he ought more regularly to attend tlIe evening wor s hip on tlIe sabbath, but then he persuaded hims elf that as his weeks were busy, it was but natuml he s hould have a little quiet in his family on that day. He had lured hims elf into tlIe eomfortahle belief tlIat he might give life, healtlI, and affections to the world, aud that He who sent his Son to suffer ruId to die for rebel man would be satisfie d with tlIe lip confession of a weckly service, with an acknowledgment of general inIperfection, ruId a vague acquiescence in lhc merciful supcrintendence of a guiding Provi dence. Never did I mOI'e experinIcntully feel than

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A YBAlt IN S!'ANISII TOWN. 125 iu tho present instance, that Paul may plant and Apollos water, but that God alone could give the increase I could not convince him, that renewed by the influence of the Holy Spirit, we could so delight in the law of God after the inward man, that tho frivolities and falsely-called pleasures of life would cease to ensuare that ouce influenced by 101'e, we should count all things but loss for the ex cellency of heaveuly knowledge He appearcd to think me quite an enthusiast when thus I spoke, but one to whom, in spite of these weaknesses, he was sincerely attached I have sometimes regretted that Miss Selby was intimate with that family I am sure that her profession of religion, hanging as it wero on her qucru lous and unloving monner, threw a stumbling-block in the path of Mr. Courtenay, which, 0 fearful thought! perhaps for ever kept him from journeying towards the celestial city. One evening, as I entered as usual that pleasant piazza, I heard Mr. Courtenay in loud conversation with Miss Selby, who walked with a much quicker step than usual. As I advanced, she turned sharply round on Mr. COUltenny, and with a look of wrnth, strangely in appropriated to the words she used, "If yo wcre of the world," she said, "the world would love its

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126 RECOLLECtIONS OF own; but because ye are not of the world, therefore the world hateth you." "The world would never love you," rejoined Mr. Courtenay, exosperated beyond measure at the hyste rical sobs of }[1'8. Raymond, who had been suffering under tho rebukes of h er sister Doth a fountain send forth at the same tinre sweet water and bitter? I thought, as I look ed at Miss Selby. Can these perpetual outbursts of impetu osity, encoura,,"Cd, nay, justified as holy inilignation, bo lcally the fruit of that tree whose namo is love? I could not on this occasion refrain from speaking. "If God so loved us, we ought also to love one another," I said. "And this commandment have we from him, that he who loveth God, love his bro ther also." "Yes," she sharply replied, "but we must not love their sins; against these we must testify our ilispleasure, and if they continue in error, we have the highest authority that with such an one we arc not even to eat." Be careful however" I answered "to iliscover , that it ;8 sin against which you are carrying on this warfare; be careful clearly to ascertain that it is not an opposing opinion which has so chafed you. May we not be indulging in carnal resentment, pacifying our conscience by the idea that it is the anger that

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A YEAR IN SPANISII 127 sinneth not? Look well to these things. If you clln put your hand on your heart and say, that the glory of God is your object by thus withdrawing yourself from the companionship of a loving sister who has differed from you, I should say you were acting sincerely, though erroneously. But why are these associates generally thrown off when there haa been somc disagreement? Why is the spirit of love called upon to hide itself only, when self has been aggrieved? I had spoken more fully than I had intended, and she certajnly had listened far more patiently than I had anticipated. "If thine enemy hunger, feed him," she said; "if he thirst, give him drink. I wonld give my last shilling to my sister, but I cannot hold out the right hand of cordiality to one who has the most dangerous opinions.' I sighed when I thought by how mauy that text had been almost used as an argument for continuing in the spirit of unkindness, as if lIe whose name is Peace meant the gift to come from a heart still war ring with its enemy. During this conversation, Mrs. Courtenay had been working with unusual alacrity; but when Miss Selby l eft tho piazz(1 sho sighed h ea vily, and throwing herself back in the arm-chair, whilst in her own

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128 RECOLLECTIONS OF peculiar way she pushed her little cap from her still glossy hail', I always feel as if a load were taken from my heart," she said, "when Miss Selby leaves us. There, child," she continued, turning towards Mrs. Raymond, and placing, with the greatest tenderness, the poor sufferer's head on her own shoulder, "shed as many tears as you like, it will relieve you." And I then ascertained that Miss Selby had been vehemently accusing Mrs. Raymond of giving way too much to sorrow. lIfrs. Courtenay was an elegant woman, lady-like in the extreme, but all in h er own way. She had a very quick perception of the faults of othors; and oh how powClfully satirical she sometimes was, cut ting up unmercifully the foibles and affectations of the soci ety in which she moved; and yet all the while preserving a look so gentle, and a IDanDer so soft, that you wondered snch bitter sarcasms could eseape her lips. On tho present occasion she was much excited I don't profess to be a ChristiM, Mr. Scott," she bcgan,-and when she made this assertion I always knew her temper had been unusually ru.ffied "but never," she continued, "would I intentionally say an unkind word to the sorrowful. There is Miss Selby from morning till night talking of her reli-

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A YEll IN SPANISK TOWN. 129 gion, and yet crushing that which God hath smitten. Methinks the very angels would weep if they saw earth's bitterness trying to ape the charity of heaven." And then the little cap was pushed to the fllrthest extremity, and the glance of indignation yielded to tenderness only when she tinned and looked at the pale face of her suffering friend; for Mrs. Courtenay had an affectionate heart, but it was amusing to ob serve how she was ever trying to conceal, with an assumed air of indifference, this genuine warmth of feeling. "These things, dear Madam," I said, "ought not so to be. Too often we need sorrow ourselves, ere we can sympathize with others. To mourn and yet to love the hand that chastens, is by no means incon sistent with the Christian's walk. Who can make whole the heart that God hath bruised, or bind up that which He hath stricken? Would that we could see more gentleness in Miss Selby! We must not, however, condemn a system because some erro neously follow it; we must not forget that God is love, becau s e those who perhaps are seeking to servo him, ( and my heart misgave mo when I said this) forget the charity, without which all else is valueI O!=>S. Well, weeks passed on, and I continually met

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130 RECOLLECTIONS OF poor Mrs. Raymond at Mrs. Courtenay's. I visited her too at h er own h o me, wher e she sat in h e r soli tude, remembering in the days of her affliction nnd her miseries, all the plensant things that she had in the days of old. The Lord had, as it were, covered her with a cloud, and given her up to sorrow, but earnestly she hoped, and patiently she waited for his sal vation; and at l e ngth she was led to sec, that though he cause grief, yet that he will have compassion, according to the multitude of his tender mercies. The flower had been beaten down by the t e mpest. We thought its stem had been rudely snapped asunder, and that it could never flourish again; but the sunbeams came forth, the rough wind stays, and the plant gently rises, and shaking the rain-drops from its leaves, unfolds to the r e joic mg sun Thus it was with Mrs. Raymond. Heaveuly con solation broke in on the gloom, and she heard the cheering nccents,_H Let not your heart be troubled. In my Father's house are mnny mansions." And then she learnt to smile! Tru e there was sadness with it; it was sunlight struggling through many elouds; but light was there, and heavenly light too, for she realiy was beginning to taste of the peac e of God which passeth all understanding, and already .he was doing something for her Master.

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.. YEll' IN SPA.NISII TOWN. 131 But how is this? one might at first be inclined to enquiIe. She sits in her accustomed place quietly as ever We hear no discussions on different points of doctrine. Mrs. Raymond still has the lowly spirit that seeks to be taught. How then can she be doing good? Watah her with Kate, as they stroll together in that lonely walk at the end of the garden! They are engaged in interesting conversation. Mrs. Ray mond is relating to her young friend the simple but touching tale of Blind Bartimeus. Oh! if you had heard the earnest way in which she dwelt on the Saviour's kindness, when she came to those words, What wilt thou that I shall do unto thee?" you would have felt that she had tasted of the pitying love expressed in this tender enquiry. W atah her too with Mrs. Courtenay! Agajn by some querulous remarks Miss Selby has disturbed the quiet of that household. Then it is that Mrs. Raymond comes forward as peace-maker, as the child of God! I think I see her affectionate look now, as on her knees in front of Mrs. Courtenay, whom she is assisting to disentangle some knitting cotton, she gently says, "My poor sister is not well to-day, and you J.'110W a sleepless night makes us all uncom fortable." And I thought Mrs. Raymond's smile o

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132 RECOLLECTIONS a}' never looked sweeter than when thus pleading for others. She did not tell how her own lonely pillow had been that night watered by tears, she did not tell how she had wrestled in prayer that very morn ing, that she might not only submit to the will of God, but cheerfully acquiesce in each trying dispen sation. Onwards and onwards passed the weeks with their little burdens of household cares, and their deeper trials concealed from outward view their strifes and their affections their joys and their sorrowsonward rolled the stream of time, giving life and freshness to the thirsty land, yet uprooting in its resistless course the aged tree and budding flower, and bearing them on to the ocean of eternity. It was about this time that we began to notice Mr. Courtenay's altered look. His step had lo st its elasticity, and his cheeks were pale and sunken. Although now but in his prime, he was a shattered man. Some of the medical men asserted that he had heart complaint, others that he was only ner vous. He had suffered from pecuniary losses, but still his income was handsome, and afiluence smiled on his home. One evening I was summoned in haste to Mr. Courtenay's, and with an undefined foreboding of evil, which is sometimes perlllitted to take possession

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A YEAB IN SPANISR TOWN. 133 of the mind in spite of our every effort to throw off what we fear might be superstitious, I entered the wide piazza, and never through a course of many years have I forgotten the scene that I there wit nessed. Mr. Courtenay was sitting in the Spanish chair with his spade at his side, for he had been garden ing. His trembling wife was bathing his temples in Eau de Cologne, and Kate, almost fain ting, had her arlllS round his shoulders. Jessie, childlike in SOlTOW as in joy, was calling to him by the most endearing epithete, and nestling his cold hand in her warm embrace. I think he seems better," observed Kate, looking appealingly at me, as if in confbmation of this effort at hope. I turned from her, for I knew he was dead! Then the doctors came, and tried to take some blood from his arm, but without effect. Why sought we the living amongst the dead? He was far from us all. The waters of eternity divided us. Neither had he any more a portion in anything that was done under the sun. But how could we convince those loving ones around him that this was really the case. They would not believe us when we spoke of death. No, he breathed-he moved-all would yet be well. o 2

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134 RECOLLECTIONS OF Kate was the first who comprehended the reality of this aJRiction, and then her fears were for her mother and sister. She allowed me to lead her into the inner hall, and Jessie followed us, clinging to me with a startled look, as if fear had coiled itself ronnd her sorrow. I had for some time past thought that Kate was seriously iuclined. I now had an opportunity of seeing that the work of grace, though hitherto nn perceived by man, had taken deep root iu her heart, and silently watered by the dew of blessiug from above, was bringing forth fruit nnto holiness. The suddenness of this bereavement eaused her quite to forget her natural timidity; keeping her aIm ronnd her sister's waist, she fell on her knees, and called on the Comforter for aid. Oh! it was not as a stranger, she approached her God! but, blessed privilege, it was the cry of a trembling ehild to a pityiug Father-" Thou hast been my help," these were her first words. "Leave me not, neither for sake me, 0 God of my salvation." I am sure she did not remember that I was in the room, and it was sweet to hear h e r askiug for strength for her bewildered sister. That night of weeping! It has been one of those solemn memories that tho mi s ts of many years have had no power to shroud. It has stood vividly before

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A YEAR IN SPANISH TOWN. 135 me in the merry time of enjoyment, whispering "beware," whenever human affection has appeared to be flourishing in its own security. In long after years, when my heart has been low and my spirit fa.int, the childlike trust of thltt dear girl in her hour of woe has with rebuking voice said, 0 thou of little faith!" There we sat till the grey morning dawned, bring ing with it to those suffering sisters a fresher sense, as it were, of their heavy loss. A. few short hours ago, and the voice of mirth and of gladness had been amongst them; now the spoiler had made all desolate! Death had come up into their windows! It was a day of darkness and of gloominess-a day of clouds and of thick darkness, as morning spread upon the mountains. A.s I looked on Jessie's face, and saw its touching innocency of expression 80 shrouded in sadness, I thought of those words, "Bashan languisheth and Carmel, and the flower of Lebanon languisheth." Then "Na.nny," the faithful servant of many years, called me to see "Old Massa." Already he was in his grave clothes. With the love of flowers so common amongst a simple people, the negroes had strewed his narrow bed with jasmins and honey suc kle. Roses too were there. Oh, what a cona 3

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136 RECOLLECTIONS OF trast Their deep rich hues agajnst hls sallow cheek. What would I not have given to have heard hlm say that he left us clinging unto Jesus that he had laid hold of some of the promises-that the mists of self-righteousness had been scattered from his soul by the breath of the Omnipotent, and that J esllS the beloved of the Father had stood before bim, as the Redeemer in whom alone he could find acceptance with God. But all was silence now the eternal unbroken silence of death Poor Mrs. Courtenay! It was a difficult task to administer consolation to her. She knew nothing of the brook that flows by the wayside of the sorrowful Christian pilgrim, therefore in this her hour of sad ness she could not even for a moment lift up her head. She knew nothing experimentally of Rim who giveth hls people songs in the night, and who has so sustained hls sn1l'ering children, that boldly they have glorified God in the midst of the fires. At thls moment I see before me her emaciated face, for sorrow had done its work, and her appear ance was greatly altered. There she sat in the chair he had so lately occupied. She never spoke of her sorrow, but tears that did not flow stood glittering in hor eyes whenever I made my

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I A YEAR IN SPANISH TOWN. 137 appearance. The husband of her youth was gone from her, and it was night, dreary night in her soul. Some weeks passed; the world Wked of her quiet resignation, and she tried to persuade herself that she acquiesced in the will of God. I know the sudden death of one so dear to her had awakened wit.hin her breast serious thoughts of death, judgment, and eternity; but ala8! as the months passed on, these apprehensions became weaker, and she ensconced herself in the vain secu rity of a harmless life. If I asked her to examine herself, to search into her own heart, "I am not worse than my neigh bours," she would reply. In the sight of God I know we are all sinful, but I never make the cruel remarks that we hear from 1t{iss Selby, and she you know is religious." Here agnin was the evil inftuence of an incon sistent professor. When I pressed upon her forget fulness of the God in whom she lived, and moved, and had her being when I reminded her of her entanglements in earthly affections, of the soul crippling cares of life, she would try, as it were, to neutralize the effect of these charges, which her conscience told her were true, by placing in the opposite scale some good deed or kindly action, and

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138 RECOLLECTIONS OF she was an amiablc creature; quite forgetting that our best p e rfoI'mances are in themselves RS nothing worth, being mer ely tho evidence of that love to God which eauses us to seek to do those things that are pleasing in his sight. With her husband's income Mrs. Courtenay's only support fled. The pleasant house, with its elegant garden and carefully tended plants passed into the hands of strangers. .And it was melancholy to see thosc dear girls in closc lodgings, busy with their drawings, by the sale of which they endeavoured to support themselves and their parent. Oh, what an unspeakable blessing it was, that ere the evil day r.ame, Kate had taken to herself the whole armour of God. She is the strongest amidst that party, by turns comforting her mother, and en couraging her sister. But what is this? Kate the contented Kate:has lost h e r wonted smile; her heart is faint, hcr eyes are dim with weoping. The packet letter is in her hand; she has heard from him she so entirely lov es, and on the score of prudence, in consequence of lfrs. Courtenay's rcverse of f ortune, hc breaks off the engugtllnent lIonour, truth, all are forgotten, and hen cefort h he says they must be as s(l'angers -

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A naR IN SPANISH TOWN. Be strong, Kate, be strong; there is one who changeth not, lIe hath loved thee with an everlast ing love ho who is tho same yesterday, to-day, and for ever. The whirlwind of this sudden had passed over her with fury; and she, who a little while before had been strengthening others, was now pros trated by the storm. As I left her for the night, her eonvulsi ve sobs were hearl-rending. "There is Ono grenter than man, dear Miss Courtenay," I said, "who earnestly remembers thee till" s I thought she looked gratefully at me, but she made no reply. There are many who speak deridingly of this SOITOW, but they those who know nothing of the depths of human affection. Dear Kate! how did she stand, now that this un expected poverty had put him in whom she so im plicitly trusted far from her. Blessed be God, she held fast the profession of her faith without wavering; she leaned on her Saviour as she passed through the dark waters, and it was no ideal peace that filled her soul. The world looked wise, and said she submitted

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140 RECOLLECTIONS OF because she was compelled to do so. Nay, there were some who whispered, that pride kept her up j but we forgive them, for they knew not the well spring of hope whence she drew supplies of com fort. Though gladness had been token away from her, and joy out of the plentiful field, she knew that, not without cause, had her God done all that he had dono. It is a noble sight to mark the Christian grap pling with the severe sorrow in the strength of One who is mighty in the name of the Lord of Hosts, the God of the armies of Israel. The angels stand by and watch such a contest. The weapons of this warfare are not carnal j the helmet of salvationthe breastplate of righteousness-the shield of faith -the sword of the spirit-all aro in use, and as we mark resignation co.lmly smoothing tho disquieted brow, as the garment of praise takes the place of the spirit of heaviness, we look round on a scoffing world, and triumphantly exclaim, "Thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." And Kate's smile returned, looking, I thought, sweeter j for the twilight of chastened thought that surrounded it, even as the heavens at sunset, aro moro striking in their beauty than during the sunny

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A YEAR IN SPANISH TOWN. 141 glare of day. Again, though with a trembling voice, she joined in the evening hy mn of praise ::" What though the fig tree languish, what though the vine deeay, Though the dark olive's beauty Be fading fast away! A Father calls his ehildren To bow before the rod; With his sustaining power Our souls rejoice in God. How sweet to learn in sorrow, .All trustfully to stand, To wait in utter darkness, A Father', guiding hand. To wait, and hear the whisper, 'Tis I, be not afraid;' To learn the Saviour healeth The wounds that he hath made." And then I left Spanish Town It was a sorrow ful parting; an unusual sadness took possession of me. Again I was at my pleasant mountain home. My ministerial engagements my pastoral duties occu pied my time as before; yet my thoughts were con tinually wandering to the little room in the narrow street in Spanish Town. Xate had some connexion with every thought. Her patient industry-her chastened smile her childlike confidence in her

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142 RECOLLFArrroNS OF Heavenly Father, thnt, though painful to her, aU was right. Ono evening in particular I recollect, wher I must hnve been very intent on my musings, for old Clarence had upset my little tea-tray, and had actually broken my favourite cup, from which, bachelor-like, I fancied my tea had a better flavour, ere I was aroused to a sense of his presence. "Have I not been at home nearly a month, Clarence?" I said, without regarding thp fragments of broken china in his hands, or the lake of tea in which I was sitting a huge island Yes, Massa," replied tho old man, "Massa no been at home t'ree week, and old Clarence bring him tea, and neber do like dis here before." The truth is, I had remembered it was time to send the promised letter to my young friend, 80 smiling on Clarence, as if he had not been warring with my favourite china, and telling him to bring me any cup he liked, I hastily despatched, as I thought, my evening meal, and had arranged my inkstand and writing beok quite to my satisfaction on the yacea-wood table in the corner, when I was reminded by Clarence that the guava jelly was un tasted, and the plantain untouched. Never mind, old man," I said, assuming a busi-

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A YE.Ul IN SPANISII TOWN. 143 ness-like air, as if to impress him with the idea that trifles, such as eating and drinking, were things of c-moment to me, "to-morrow is post day, and I have letters that must be written." I began, My dear Miss Courtenay;" then with my head resting on my hand, I was lost in thought. I saw before me through the dark boughs of the tamarind trees, the glorious sunset-I saw the white datura peeping from its nook of leaves-I inhaled its perfumed breath, and I well remember that I felt a sense of loneliness I had never before expe rienced. The mountajns were enveloped in mist ere I broke from my reverie, and then I continued my letter. The next morning it was posted, and my anxiety for an Il,nswer, which could not arrive before a week had passed away, was oppressive. The sea-breeze came, the snnny breeze, and rioted amongst the trees every day, and shook the rafters of my little house. Then came night with its gifts of dews and sleep, and the glowing stars followed in its train. Day after day passed, and never before had the week seemed so tardily to advance. The Sabbath came the stilly Sabbath and if in spite of my clerical duties and long engage ments in the school-room some thoughts of the ex pectsd letter on the morrow did intrude, I prayed p

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144 RFOLLECTIONS OF that strength and heavenly hope might be given me, to meet soberly and steadfastly the joys and sorrows of every-day life; for it is not only in the unexpected good fortune or overwhelming affliction that we need the strong arm of heavenly support, but it is in the familiar occurrences of social life, in the chafing trial or sudden delight, that it is good to hear the whisper, "This is not your rest." Another day, and the letter from Kate was in my hand -so gentle -so grateful breathing in every line the spirit of genuine piety. Yet was I dissatis fied, I cannot tell why. I read it again and again, only to feel more desolate than ever Oh! how pleasant it wonld be, I thought, to have a companion by my side, to drive with me in the evening, or to enliven my morning ride by cheerful conversation. I well remember how wistfully I would sometimes sit aud look at the handsome arm chair, a present from my godmother in England, thinking how much its appearance would be im proved if some fair form reclined therein. It was in vain that many young ladies of my acquaintsnce passed before my mental view, none wonld do to grace my chair but the gentle softened Kate, with her drooping head and sweet face, olmost concealed by clustering curls with the spirit that suffered long and was kind with the heart that

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YEll IN SPANISH TOWN. 145 though tenderly loving to the deal' household band, bore about with it an affection that kept in subordi nation all human love. Earthly accomplishments have their fascination, worldly courtesy has its charm; but when religion influences the actions, when Christian love, as the day-spring from on high, dissipatss the mists of selfishness and worldly policy, then we carry about with us a secret talisman, that compels even an un thinking world to stand still and admire, then are we doing His will who has said, "Let your light so shine before men, that they seeing your good works, may glorify your Father who is in heaven." Time passed on Another year was at its close. I had once or twice visited the Courtenays; and now that mountain ajr was recommended for Mrs Courtenay, I suggested that the little family should spend a few weeks at my rectory. 'h08e who have passed their lives in England may be surprised that I should have made such a proposition, but they must remember that there are in Jamaica no hotels in the country; neither are there lodgings to be obtained for the converuence of those who seek chango of air. It is, therefore, no uncommon thing even for a bachelor clergyman to entertain a party of his lady friends; and though English etiquette may look scornfully on such an p 2

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146 RECOLLECTIONS OF arrangement, many happy hours of social intercourse are thus afforded to thoso who would otherwise be subject to the dreariness of an almost unbroken solitude. Oh, how well I remember, though long years have passed away since that happy time, the visit of those dear friends to my solitary home; yes, through the vista of memory tllat past stands out clearly before me Mrs. Courtenay is weaq ,vith her ride, and rc clines on the sofa Jessie in her childish and affec tionate way, asks my leave to make tea, and afte r laughing at every flaw in my bachelor cups, as she calls them, begins to rally me on my abstraction, for you must know that Kate was really and bodily sit ting in my arm-chair. I am afraid I bchaved veq badly on this occasion; but we all have our hours of weakness, times when human affection has too much sway over the heart. It was not till Kate promised to be mine, that I was aroused to a trembling sense of the danger of my own position. So sweet a boon had I received from my God, that in the enjoyment of it I feared lest my heart should bc drawn from the Giver. There was, however, a little interruption to our happiness, which I was perhaps too selfishly en Joytng. One evening, an unu s ual bustle under the cluster

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t A YEAR IN SPANISH TOWN. 147 of cocoa-nut trees which stood immediately in front of our house, announced an arrival. Jessie starts from the low ottoman on which, as was genern1ly her custom, she had been watching the crimson close of day, and with a sort of semi-comic expression, mingled, however, I must say, with a gleam of dis appointment, exclajms, "Miss Selby!" We look at each other as if paralysed by the unex pected intelligence. I know not how it was We had never discussed Miss Selby's character, but we all intuitively feel that the spirit of disquietude must follow in her track. I do not make any observation but a sigh escapes me as I leave Kate's side to welcome ],fiss Selby. My conscience too reproaches me with disBimulation, as with an effort at cheerfulness, I lead our visitor into the midst of our happy circle. Row glaring were her inconsistencies! She had no appetite, but the roasted Guinea bird grew less before her. She had not strength to sit up, and yet during the first half hour of her sojourn with us, she had perambulated both our halls, and discovered that my book-case had a tottering foundation, and that the frame-work of my very old mahogany clock was unsound. It was well Jessie's roguish look s escape d her notice. Indeed, had it not been for a beautiful pet r 3

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148 RECOLI.ECTIONS O}' dog, that this lady brought with her, I fear our young friend's intolerance of our new guest would have been pa.infully visible, even on this the first evening of her arrival. Once or twice during this visit, our sweet home happiness was invaded; but I believe the cloud that darkened the sunshine of our joy brought the fer tilizing shower, for Kate was strengthened in forbear ance, and Jessie learnt that she had a wayward heart that was continually warring with the better prin ciple implanted there. I humbly hope by him who has promised in his faithfulness to complete the work which he has begun. In memory's land, that dear old room is still visible to me. Kate sits with her head bent over her work. Now she throws back her hair, andlooks up with an expression of unfeigued surprise at Miss Selby, who, quite forgetting the meekness and gen tleness that attaches itself even to the profession of Christia.nity, is taking me to task in the most un feminine way for allowing Jessie to hum worldly melodies, on my own place on the Sabbath day. It was in vain I told her, I had known nothing of this ; it was to no purpose I assured her, I would have remonstrated with my yDlmg friend, who, from affection to me, if from no higher motive, would I was sure never thus again have transgressed.

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A YEAR IN SPANISH TOWN. 149 But Miss Selby was not to be silenced. As is the case with many of these discord-loving tempers, she had preferred a charge, and even were the matter ami cably 8nanged, oll would be disappointment. The eloquence of discontent, and the energy of excited feeling, would have no field for action. As we continue in conversation, I turn and look at Jessie. The flush of indignation burns in her cheeks, and mounts to her forehead, at being thus accused by Miss Selby. "Don't you think, Mr. Scott," she said, with a little unbecoming pride, "that if the restriction put by the Apostle on women as regarded speaking, had extended to the drawing-room, as well as the church, it would have been a good thing." Jessie had no respect for Miss Selby, and never was I more con vinced than in the present instance, that from the very moment the Christian professor ceases to be consistent, he ceases to be useful. Miss Selby met this observation with a sharp reply; and Jessie told her that, at oll events, melody was better than discord. How far these combatants in words would have proceeded, I know not, had I not interfered. "Jessie," I said, and there was gravity in my tone, for I was grieved at seeing one thus excited, whom I was endeavouring to guide into the paths of peace,

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1S0 RECOLLECTIONS OF the Sabbath is the Lord's, every hour is his;" when we devote these days to his service, the :MJghty God has condescended to say, "They shall be a sign be tween me and thee." Then I asked her if she re membered the little fable about humility, the lowly violet that did not raise its modest head to receive the sun's reviving glance, but a coronet soon glowed on its leaves, for a sunbeam was so touched with the humility of this gentle flower, that it converted the dew-drop of night into sparkling diamonds "0 dear Jessie," I added, "if you would be one of the great Redeemer's jewels when he makes up his o wn, you must now seek to possess the meek and lowly spirit on which he has graciously promised to look in tenderness and love Jessie was an impetuous, but an open-hearted and ingenuous girl, and as she acknowledged her fault with sweet simplicity of manner to Miss Selby, whilst the tears glistened in her dark eyes, she looked a living illustration of the dcw-gemmed flower Miss Selby received her acknowledgment with proud condescension, saying she would forgive not ouly seven times, but seventy times seven; and I thought how much sorrow and suffering would per haps b e necessary to infuse into her soul the spirit of the little child, to lay the tyrant self prostrate in the dust.

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A YE'R IN Sl'ANISH TOWN. 151 How unloveable are such dispositions, and when over all this imtability and peevishness the mantle of religious profession is thrown, incalculable is the mischief done to the cause of God. Miss Selby seemed to carry about within her breast a machinery for discomposing others, and in the calm of a peaceful household this track on the quiet waters Wllll of necessity very clearly visible. If Kate looked paler than usual, or if a shade of anxiety brooded on Jessie's brow, I well knew the engine of disquietude that had been at work. She had hinted to Kate that a wish to improve her cir cumstances must have led her to tbink kindly of me, or she had thought there was unbecoming levity in Jessie's peculiarly artless and playful manner. Miss Selby stood amongst us like the tree under whose shade all green things droop, and I do not believe that one of our party wore the aspect of sad ness when the time of her departure amved. She felt this, and attributed it to her unwavering firmness and decision on religious subjects. Alas! she groped her way in darkness, and talked of light. She told us again and again of her trials, her tempta tions and her sorrows, but her blessings I fear they were thrown out of the scale altog et her. Oh, could but some portion of Hermon's d e w have rested on those ruffled feelings, the spirit of love would have

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152 RECOLLECTIONS OF unfolded to the moisture, and that selfishness so pro minent in her character would have been exchanged for something of the mind that was in Christ Jesus. And now you must think of Kate as a bride. At the Catbedral Church in Spanish Town we were married. Jessie was bridesmaid; myoId friend, Dr. Evans, officiated on that occasion. Mrs. Courtenay, aud a cousin of hers, Mr Stewart, with Miss Selby, and Mr. llitymond, completed the bridal party. I do not remember Kate's dress, but I know that a !'Cal fragrant wreath of orange flowers circled her pale brow, and the tears fell fast on her trembling hand as I placed the glittering circ let on her delicate finger. Miss Selby, by the propelling power of some un controllable impulse caused a little discomfort on this memorable day, but it was only a passing cloud. The sunbeams of gladness were so vivid about us, that the vapours of discord could not live in their radiance. She only hoped Kate would be steady, and not change her mind again. She only wondered lfra. Raymond was so cheerful, for her own part, she had thought a wedding party would be quite too much for her sister; and at breakfast she plainly told me, she marvelled I had chosen Kate; for that she saw no marks of decision of character about her Shall I do away with all the romance of my tale,

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A YEAR IN SPANISH TOWN. 153 if I tell you that the silvery-haired lady, who now smiles on you, from that faded w-m-chair, is no other than the sweet Kate of long ago. Through evil report, and good report--on the rugged road and on the flower strewn path-through storm and calmthrough light and darkness, together we have jour neyed through this vale of tears, tasting, I am per suaded, in our somewhat solitary and secluded life, far more happiness than is generally the lot of man. Sorrows have visited us; aga.in and again death has broken the household chain, but we have been en abled to rest on our Saviour God; in the time of trouble he has hid us in the pavilion of his love, and we have found that he is a Sun and Shield, and that blessed, thrice blessed, are those who put their trust in Him. Mrs. Raymond went on her way so quietly, that I have sometimes seen the look of surprise on the face of a Christian friend, when I have mentioned her devotion of heart to her master, when I have told how sorrows led her to turn her face towards Zion. It ie true she did not move in a sphere where she was called upon to engage in any public duties; but ask of those who met her in the private walks of life, and they will tell you of her enduring charity, her unwearying efforts amongst the humblest of her

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154 RECOLLECTIONS dependents to speak of the Saviour's love, and to tell from her own experience of the peace that is the heritage of the servants of the Lord. She was taken off by scarlet fever, but such a blessed testimony she left of his faithfulness who has promised to walk with his children through the dark valley, that I never think of her last hours without feeling a r.alm steal over my soul. To her humble lodgings in Spanish Town, I hastened, at her request, to bid her farewell. The room was very close, and the small bedstead was placed at the window, from which through an opening in the narrow street you saw the magni ficent mountJlins in the distance. "He is so faithful," she said, whilst light not of this world beamed from her eyes i "not one thing has failed of all that he promised me i" and then with a smile more expressive of love and gratitude than I can describe, "if this be the valley," she added, "it is not dark." "Wonderful, wonderful," she continued, looking upwards. Is all this for me? Do you not hear that Voice, a great Voice, out of Heaven, saying 'He will dwell with them i they shall be His people, the former things are passed away.''' "What a great salvation is that wlought out for

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A YE.ut IN SPANISH TOWN. 155 sinful man," she whispered. t'Tell your people, Mr. Scott, again and agajn, that the Lord is good: blessed is he who trusteth in Him." And then she would lie with her eyes closed as if looking at the things we cannot see Sometimes suddeuly she would say, "The glory of 1;he Lord doth lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof;" then after a pause exclaim, "And his servants shall serve him; and they shall see his face." It is pleasant," she remarked, "to sleep when one is weary; but to fall asleep in Jesus, who can tell that blessedness," there was another such honour have all His sajnts," she gently said. I had no idea she was so near her end;" another gentle sigh, and she was indeed on the bosom of her God. I love to tbink of that death-bed. I love to think of the glorious end of one of the meekest and lowliest of the Lord's servants. The world had passed her hy, aye and the Christian world, too, deceived by her retiring manner, had sometimes regarded her with mistrust; but He who seeth not as man seeth, had looked in compassion on her, and in the midst of heavy earthly trial, had said unto her "Weep not;" then her heart's wilderness became like Eden, its desert like the garden of the Lord. Through much trial the Comforter was with her, and at death He Q

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156 RECOLLECTIONS OF A YEAR IN SPANISII TOWN. for whom she had counted all as dross, gently rc ceived her into glory. I looked at her face, pale in the sleep of death. I thought of her, as some few years before when I visited her in her first sorrow. I remembered her as, at the early sacrament, she sat beside her hus band. Now she had rest, eternal rest, from the days of adversity. Sanctified affliction had accom plished its mission. The Refiner saw his own image refl ected in Ris work, and took it from the furnace of trial; therefore is she now before the throne of God, and serves rum day and night in His temple. Mrs. Courtenay and Jessi e have long passed away, and our pilgrimage is drawing to its close. The shadows of evening are around us, but the star of faith grows brighter on the twilight sky Goodness and mercy have followed us all the days of our life; and now blessed be his Dame, we can look forward with It humble but conndent hope in the merite of our Great Redeemer, to dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

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CHAPTER V. 'Edru 3l1nqnnrh. b our journey through life we meet with some who cheer a passing hour, we exchange a few words of kindness with them, and then we part. Of such we have a pleasant recollection it may be for a little while, bnt like the phosphoric track, that is visible only on the agitated waters, when the excitement occ,'lsioned by their society is over, wo think of them no more. There are othcrs, forced upon us by circumstances with whom wc must necessarily be in continual association, yet thero is but littlo sympathy between us; ano, if in complilUlco with tho injunction, to love aB brethron, WO oudcttvour to )lUlke advances towards thorn, thoy remain till insensi ble to our offons at kinduoss as wood to the lOlld stone, or the ma88i va rock to Uw pUSHing uil'. Q 2

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158 REt.l!:N )(A YN AllD. Some few there are, however, with whom on n first acquaintance we are deeply interested, nay, more, all that belongs to them, or is connected with them, has a mysterious charm for us; we have dis covered, that on the vast Bea of life, the same plank supports us-that though the wave and cloud may occasionally hide us from each other-though cir cnmstances may separate us-though a long night of sorrow may sometimes darken our intercourse, yet still we are connected conneeted by that mys terious but powerful attraction of mind with mind, for which their is no accounting, Bnd which it is most difficult even when most expedient to control. For my own part, I must confess, that on my voyage through life, such associations have ever been fraught to me with happiness, which, though sometimes troubled and harrowing in its nature has yet deserved the name, for I have taken to my heart sympathy as a reviving cordial, and I have sometimes been able very great! y to com fort those whose eyes mourned by reason of afflic tion. From the first time that I become acquainted with Helen Maynard I felt we wero to be no common acquaintances. What was it that so drew me to her? I cannot tell you. Bllt, come on with me, dear friends, and as I go over the past, some amongst

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HELEN MA YN ARD. 159 you will, I know, deeply participate in all that interested me. I must then introduce you to the family at Banff Hall, for I was received as one of the household at that beautiful spot, and were I asked what it is, that sheds a halo of grateful feeling on my recollec tions of that tropic land, I should say the llna ffected warm-heartedness and genuine hospitality of the inhabitants of J ammca. There is some richly wooded hill land, looking down on Montego Bay, over which are thinly scattered pens or villas. These are generally tho abodes of the town merchants, who after the heat and burden of a weary day, are glad to breathe the cooler atmosphere of their semi-mountain homes. It seems but as yesterday my first ride to Banff Hall in company with Mr. Maynard. Hedges of the snowy jasmin fenced our path, and as we as cended, thousands of wild roses mingled their gentle fragrance with the stronger perfume of that richly scented flower. The atmosphere was soft and balmy, and the amethystine hue of the heavens just ushered in the fleeting twilight of a tropical evening. Who is singing so sweetly?" I inquired of my fri c nd, as we approached the carefully-tended Q 3

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160 HELEN MA YN A.RD. shrubbery which concealed from our view Mr. May nard's dwelling. H e l en," he sai d, "my only girl." And then we paused and listened to the song. They ten me that earthly affection through life With sadness is ever bound round j That the beautiful tree, though with lovelin e .. rife, Hath its root in a sorrowful groWld. Yet we pluok the fair bloaaoms, and dotingly pres, The thomcircled l eaves to our heart ; Oh! human affection, we prize thee not less, Ail linked unto woe as thou art." It was whilst the soft cadence of her rich voice was still on the air, that H e len came forward to meet her father. She was very pale, and h e r slight figure was almost childish She had a peculiar gracefulness of motion, and a sweetness of expression about her mouth that was most attrac tive. Her deep blue eyes were really beautiful, and so v e ry dark, I at first mistook them for black. I did not on this our first meeting notice their dreamy shadowy exp ression that so struck me afterwards, as if they were formed to ex press sorrow unutterable; but this look only rested on her gentle fa ce now and then, and whe n she

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RBLEN ?u YN AllD. 161 was perfectly at ease, it could not exist among strangers. A.s I enter into all these details, I seem, dear friends, not to be looking back into memory's faded picture-land, but the past becomes almost a part of present life. There we sit in the wide piazza, now Helen is entering with interest into details of busi ness, which can have no attractions for her, but for her father's sake. I feel creeping over me the mysterious sympathy with that household, which kindled into the warmest affection, and bound me to them, till in their sorrows and their joys, I bore no inconsiderable part. Mr. Maynard was unusually intelligent for a man of his profession. The silver and the gold possessed, I am sure intrinsically no charms for him, but as the means of educating his daughter, of filling his library, of providing for his Helen the elegancies, nay the luxuries of refined life; for the sake of these things he valued wealth. Yes, in that distant island, on the blue waters of the Carribean, far from the re side, that the Briton prizes, far from the civilization and advantages of the metropolis, we enjoyed social evenings ,vith minds unknown to fame, and yet of no despicable ma,,"'Ditude Sometimes a well in formed military or naval friend (an d Mr. Maynard was discriminating as r egar ded education) would join us in the evening, and then we would be

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162 HELEN YA.YN ARD. studious or musical or conversible, as the presiding inclination of the evening might d ete rmine. Forgive me, dear fricnds, I am an old man ;now, and I cannot rc s trajo my tears. Alas, alas, that sorrow should quench all the gladness of that home circle, yet I not repine. It was sanctmed affiiction; the chastener drew those dear ones to himself, and they now dwell where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest But I must go on with my little narrative. Come with me, then, and look at the dear old dining room, or rather at that part of tbe piazza in which this evening meal was regularly taken. There, just outside the venetians are placed the porous water jars, for, in Jammca, ice was at that time a thing unknown. The wine bottles are put" in cool," that is, they are associated with these jars, clothed in bags, which are well saturated in water. Wine is not generally decanted in a tropical country, as by this process it would lose much of its coolness and flavour, and therefore in this deshabille it is placed on the table. But the vi e w beyond. It haunts me yet. It is often vividly present with me on a sleepless night! and the tones of those glad voices I hear, and the whispering of the evcn ing breeze to the mountain cabbage; and then faces ris e up before

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BELEN MAYNA nD 163 me those of the intensely loved the long-departed-and at such momenta I am far from life ; time seems nothing-eternity is all in all Clusters of orange trees were immediately before us, then occasionally on the sloping wood land a date tree would gracefully stand, its arrowy leaves triumphantly glittering in the red gold of sunset, to which trees of a shorter growth could not aspire. In the distant lowland that extended to the sea, there was a fairy avenue of cocoa-nut trees, each of which looked no longer than our hand, and the neu tral tint floating on the atmosphe re, and r esting on the mountains, deepened at that time of the evening till it steeped the little bay in the richest purple. And then the glorious Heaven, beyond those distant mount,,;ns-now crimson-now gold-now preparing their clearest softest blue for the reception of night's chi l dren, the stars; which came forth not timorously, trembling through mist, but as if conscious that they held no inferior part in the subduing power of such an everung. Helen sits at thc head of the dinner tablo. At il'st one did not perceive the depth of that 1ltthcr's attachment to his daughter. Dctwecn Mr. Mayuard and Helen a pleasant companionship hllc! sprung up of a tendor and touching natura. He had passed through some yQIll'B of landy

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164 IrELEN 1tlAYliARD. widowhood, and just as after a dreary day, you have seen a bright line of gold on the western sky, so in the evening of his life, a joy seemed to have upon him in this increasing affection, and he little drellDlt, that it was to be shut in again and lost in a stormy night of sorrow. nut no rage of the elements can hold back the light of morning, and no earthly suffering can for one moment detain the tried and faithful spirit from going forth at the Divine com mand, to cnter into the joy of its Lord. You must say a word to me, dear young people, when thus I run away from my tale. You must lead me back to Helen. W cll, there she is. Dinner is over She has made her father's sangree, and now that she has becomc accustomed to me, she breaks from her usual quiet, and becomes a very child in playfulness ,vith that dear old man. She would provide him with spectacles and newspaper, and then in her qniet sisterly way join me in the southern piazza which was open; and as we looked at the dark logwood trees on which the silvery moonbeams trembled, she seemcd pleased if I led the conversation towards holy tllings. Again, the feeling of old times comes over me. I participate in the spirit of quiet happiness, which her very presence diffuses in that household, and again the trcmbling anxiety seems to take possession of me, the fear for our Helen, that

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HELEN If!.. YN ARD. 165 though sweetly consenting to religious doctrinethough to a cert.ain extent revering its precepts that her hope and her strength were not yet fixed on the God of Jacob. It is true no heavy sorrow had rested on her youtbful h e art, for even her mother's death had come upon her as the lighter grief of infancy, but could she bargajn on keeping the intruder from her dwelling. She would speak of God as the .All Merciful; and of the Saviour even as the chiefest in ten thousand; but this was more from what she read t.haD what she felt. Yes, dear Helen, I well knew that in her daily repetition of the Lord's Prayer she did not realize the spirit of adoption-she knew no thing of the confidencE', which in the common place embarrassment or bewildering perplexity would send forth the childlike and trustful cry of Abba, Father. My chapel was scarcely a quarter of an hour's ride from Banff Hall. It was a romantic ride too, and there was a depth of solitude around in lmison with the wildness of the scenery. A dilapidated place enough waa that chapel. The bats held evening entertainments in the roof, and the owl hooted to its mate from an aged cotton tree, that stood befol'6 the eastern windows. My little church waa no wild ruin that added beauty to the valley in which it was situated, but if the truth must be told from one point of view, it had the appearance of a stable-

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, 166 HELEN from another it looked like a barn, and even with the gold of snnsct streaming on it, it had a gro tesque and uncouth appearance. Yet it was the house of God, the place of prayer, and simple hearts were weekly gathered thore, to "Give thanks unto the God of Israel, to bless the name of the Lord." In spite of its unpicturesque appearance and dingy walis, I have pleasant recollections clinging to that spot happy memories of peaceful Snndays of eheerful faces in the dear comer pew-the only habitable one-with which the new church now standing on that spot is altogether nnassociated. With much difficulty we at last established some thing to which we were determined to give the name of Sunday School. Our scholars consisted of a very few children, and a greater number of adults who l'emnined in churoh about an hour after service, and there, assisted by Helen, who taught the younger ones to read, I endeavoured to impress on the minds of these simple people the leailing truths of Chris tianity. It would have been no bad subject for a painter, the return of our mountain congregation to their respective homes. How many sturdy, rough-looking ponies, were tied to those mango trees during our morning service.

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IIELEN )1.< YN ARD. 167 After church, the negroes dividing themselves into diiferent groups, would discuss matters of immediate interest to themselves, and sometimes even their parson's character would pass under review. "My King," exclaimed a thoughtful looking African female, as she hastily despatched the last morsel of her mango; for on this fruit is their negro's Sunday dinner generally made. "ffim word sweet like sugar-cane, and him 'tand up 'trong like aloe. Theu a rougher looking woman remonstrated with her friend. "Hi, no-him word no come down like gulley? No 'tanding up against Massa Scott." What a bustle of preparation there was; indeed I have found from experienoe, that in noise consists much of the happiness of these people. Tbose amongst the old men who were invalids would bind round their heads two or three handkerchiefs, crowning them with a spreading Panama hat, and with brains thus sheltered, mount their little pony, altogether unconcerned for the unprotected state of their feet, which, even in rajny weather, stockingless, and shoeless, they would carelessly place in their stirrup. Then a sturdy daughter would walk by the side of her father, or a healthful wife by her husband, with R

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168 HELEN llA nr .. \RD. her unconscious but happy infant cradled snugly on her back, in a manner peculiar to the African. There they would go on their homeward way with contentment in their hearts, even in thosc times of slavery, that gave a ringing and joyous melody to their laughter, and sent a brightness to their eyes, which the caressed and flattered lady, in the midst of freedom and luxury, has sometimes lacked; proving that sorrow and happiness are more equally distri buted in this world than we imagine, by Him who stayeth His rough wind in the day of the East wind. I do not tbink, that at this time there was any shadow on the peculiarly sweet happiness of Banff Hall. In many families there is some sour temper that has a corrosive influence on all, there is generally some little drawback to the household happiness of every day life. The servants are inattentive or un ruly, and the lady consequently dissatisfied. The Master is imperious, and the spirit of fear is expressed in the eager eye the anxious look, and the varying cheek. But here were the faithful negroes of many years, looking on their young mistress as a child that was to be humoured and cared for; a father, whose love unfolded in the sunshine of a smile, and not in the

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HELEN 169 petulant anxiety, that embitters affection. Alas! alas! man makes no offering to God in return for mercy The landsman owns no blessing in the beacon light, it is when we are on the rock-circled billows, that we are reminded of its usefulness, and it is too often from the depths of sorrow that we learn with full purpose of heart to cry unto the Lord. Helen became as a sister to me, and I often play fully rallied her on the marked attentions of the Reverend Herbert Everton, a young clergyman, who really was a true disciple of his Master's, an earnest devoted Christian. At first she took it all in an unconcerned and cheerful way, and would ask me if I wished her to leave 80 happy a home. It was about this time that I particularly observed the watchful affection of Mr. Maynard for his darling child. How proud and happy he would look as she sat in quiet converse with Mr. Everton. I remember, too, that Helen's sweet face often wore the thoughtful shadowy expression, of which I have before spoken; and although she met her father with the same earnest affection, the old look of trustfulness had almost entircly vanished, and was replaced by a half timid, half sorrowful smile. Once when her father playfully asked her who was her favourite guest at R 2

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170 lrELEN MAYNARD. Danfl' Hall, she looked painfully confused for a moment, and then sweetly replied: "Mr. Scott, papa;" and the sisterly smile played on her lips. Mr. Maynard had not perceived it; but I saw that tbe cloud of anxiety, though at this time small indeed as a man's hand, had already risen above the hith e rto clear horizon. Oh, had she then gone to the Redeemer to bespeak as it were help for the future, had she at the first threatening of the storm taken shelter under the Rock of Ages, the waves of bitter trial would not so rudely hav e beaten over her. But, as is the case with many oth ers, though she could understand that in heavy sorrow, prayer must be a relief, she knew nothing of that frce access to God reconciled through Christ, in every place, under any circumstances, in the slight embarrass ment or the crushing woe. One evening I accidentally surprised her in tear s "Miss Maynard," I aaid, "my friend, my sister, I have for some time observed your unusual dejec tion. I will not inquire the cause. You are sad, and I may speak to you of Him who loves to comfort those who mourn." Ah," she r e plied, "if I were as you are, it would be very different; but if I am ashamed to own to myself, that my presont cause of disquietude

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ID'..LEN MAYNARD 171 is sorrow, how can I take the matter to Omni potence." Because," I replied, "the Gospel reveals to us Jehovah as incarnate, as tAking our nature upon Him, that he might be Sympathiser as well as Deliverer, that we might boldly make known every perplexity to Rim who is ever touched with the feeling of our infi I'lnities." She saw her father approaching, and hurriedly whispered: "Thank you, dear Mr. Scott; say no more to night." I seem to see her now before me, as in her own earnest manner, in which there was a strange mixture of sadness and playfulness, she went for ward to meet her father, accosting him in those endearing epithets which seem so peculiarly to ex press the love of parent and child. Now she was clingiag to his arm, and now she was gently pass ing her soft, white hands over his pale cheeks. As he drew her to his side on the sofa, and tenderly looked down on her, how deeply he sighed, not, I am persuaded, from anxiety, but from that flllness ofhearl which is sometimes mysteriously overpower ing, even when we hold to our bosom the obj ect dearest to us in life. In long after years, that father's look has been with me. I have seen the n 3

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172 ITELEN MADURD. orphan struggling without sympathy on her lonely way, and have remembered it then. I have watched the motherless boy plunge into wild excess, unwarned and unreproved; and when the world has been loud in its censure, that look has been present to me, and I have sighed to think how ready we are to blame the erring, and how slow to lead him to One who would not only be the guide of his youth, but the strength of his man hood-the stay of his declining years About a week after I had held this conversation with Helen, she brought her work to the library, and apologizing for invoning a room, which the kind hospitality of Mr. Maynard allowed me to consider almost as my own, she seated herself on a low fauteil ncar the door that opened on the piazza. For some time she plied her needle with un wonted alacrity; at length, looking up at me with a bright smile, which in an instant, however, gave way to an expression of real sadness. You will not help me out," she said, "and so now I am going to try if you will be indeed my brother." I saw the sweet confidence of her nature was struggling against her womanly reserve, and she became very pale, "I so need your advice-your prayers," she added.

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lIET.EN MA TN A RD, 173 What is the use of a brother?" I encouragingly said, "if we are to shut up within our bosoms every perplexity; indeed I shall need your counsel some day, my gentle sister, when I bring you tidings of my ladye love." The brightest smile I had ever seen beamed on her face, and then in a somewhat hurried and nerv ous manner, she informed me that Mr. Everton had proposed to her, and that she had told him, as she could not be his wife, she hoped he would not mention the matter to her father; "nut I fear he will," continued Helen, the tears rolling down her cheeks, "and then, papa is so fond of Mr. Everton," -and she paused, "and if he should press me to consent, or rather, if he should earnestly wish me to do so, my heart would break." This waa strong language for Helen, and there waa an excitement of maDDer about her for which the present perplexity seemed scarcely to account I felt, how much she just then needed a mother's counsel, and I could only say: "Caat all your care on Him, for he careth for you, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut the door, pray to thy Father who is in secret; thus only, dear girl, can you find guidance and peace; thus only will you be enabled to come amongst us again with the echo of that soothing aasumnce still

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174 BELEN MA YN A RD. falling on your ears, 'as one whom his mother comforteth so will I comfort you.' It was as Helen had anticipated. Mr. Everton had spoken to Mr. Maynard, and asked him to use his influence in persuading his daughter to receive bim favourably I think I see Mr. Maynard now, the flush of a painful excitement on his fine countenance, yet, the expression of tenderness eertainly trillInphing over that of I1lilled feeling ".A. gentleman in every way worthy of you, Helen," he said, "so calculated to be your defenee against this unkindly world when I am called away; highly educated too, and accomplished." Of his piety he did not make any mention, for he had not been taught that the price of heaveuly wisdom was beyond I1lbies, and that all the things that are to be desire
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HELBN MAYNARD. 175 visitor at Mr. Maynard's. I wondered 1 had never before discovered what now seemed so clear to me. A child might have seen how Helen valued his society He was an Irishman, talented, and what at that time was not often thc case with those of his profession, he was a good classical scholar, and this, with the sparkling vivacity which brightened his convcrsation, rendered him a fascinating companion -an entertaining friend. Yet he had withal a straightforward manner, that was not bluntness, a quick perception of the ridiculous, and strong powers of imitation, so that when he was amongst us he was the life of our evening party. Nevertheless, when I thought of him as connected with Helen, an overpowering sadness cnm e over me, and it was with a troubled heart, and an uneasy foreboding of evil, that I sought my sister friend, and begged to have a little conversation with her in the jasmin piazza. .A pretty place this WRS. It was open, supported by pillars, round which the jasmiu, the grenadilla, and the red-Indian creeper twined in close companionship, mingling their beauty and their fragrance. As if no gulf of years now separated me from that past, I seem to be standing there. The purple mountains are wrapped in the silvery halo of a tropi cal moonlight. A little to the left, the broad, white

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176 HELEN VA YNARD. sea is glistening, against which the trees just before us stand in dark contrast, save when they fling abroad their branches to play with the land breeze, then they too catch, for a few moments, some of tho silvery rays. Helen, in her clear, white dress, comes gently forward somewhat timidly, yet not with all the reserve I had anticipated. As the night on the dark-blue sky before us, lay the shadowy look in her deep eyes; but the sister's smile is on her lips, and as she gives me her hand in the confidence that belongs only to early youth, the feeling of distrust towards Captain Ingram, is strong withjn me. I long to tell you," were her first words, "Captain Ingram is to spllak to papa to-morrow, and to ask him to consent to our union." It is then 8S I Jetvred," I sorrowfully said. Why do youJear?" she eagerly inquired. "Is he not all that heart could wish ?" In the simplicity of her earnestness, too plainly shewing me how she had given away, in its first freshness, all the affec tion of her unsuspecting heart. "To speak faithfully, dear Helen," I onswered, I fear for you, because Captain Ingmm lives for the world, he is actuated by no highor motive than the desire of its applause; of the word of God and its promises the throne of grace and its privileges,

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HELEN MAYNARD. 177 he knows nothing, and what will you do with such 11 guide, when the dark waters of Jordan are swelling around you?" Yet how could I blame that motherless girl Had her father not given his consent to her daily associa tion with Captain Ingram? and even now it was not for the sake of religious principle that Mr. Maynard preferred Mr. Everton for his daughter, though I believe, that uninfluenced by piety, as was the father's heart at this time, he put more trust in him who openly served and daily walked with the Lord God of Israel. Dear Helen! although I was blaming him she so loved, she never once made an irritated observation, or gave an impatient reply. I told her of the dangers that would beset her if associated with one who feared not God. I asked her how she could expect to keep his word, or fear his name, when she had wilfully placed herself in the midst of careless ness and infidelity ? Can you hope, dearest friend," I said, "as you leave your father's home with one who has tamcd his back upon the pleasant land, that on you the blessing of that promise will rest,-" Lo, I am with you always." She wept bitterly as thus I spoke. Go at once to the Strengthener," I continued,

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178 HELEN MAYNARD. "and he will even now give you power to resist this fiery temptation. Purcha se not a little troubl e d earthly happin ess by the ali e nation of your Saviour's lov e by the wrath of the I,am b." "Oh, Mr. Scott," she sai d, "do you not think wors e of Captain Ingram than he deserves? and what am I, that I should withdraw from bim on account of any fan c i e d superiority of my own?" You are deceiving yourself," I replied. "Of superiority I am not speaking; but have you never felt that the world around you was unsatisfactory, and in trouble such as you have already had, have you never looked towards Him who is invisible, and been comforted? Take heed, I beseech you, how you quench the strivings of the spirit, how you e nter without breastplate or shield on the hazardous and toilsome service of a world that will r e p ay you with remorse and woe." I had spoken more seriously than I had at first intend e d, and H e len was overcome, and did not join us aga.in that evening. Mr. Maynard, as I had expected, refused to li ste n to Captain Ingram's proposal, and requested he would altog ethe r discontinue his visits at Banff Hall. I f elt my heart drawn towards Helen on this ocr-nsion. The re IV as no theatrical expression of

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UELEN MAYNARD. 179 feeling-no hysterical excitement. She knew that in this matter her father was actuated by tender love for her; she knew that he too was suffering, and though at first she was much overpowered, yet she soon came amongst us again, somewhat subdued in manner, but still the spirit of our quiet home happiness. With her father she was more tender, but not so playful; and though I now never mentioned to her Captajn Ingram's name, I hoped she had gone in the shadow of her sorrow to her God, and from his treasury supplied with some of the Balm of Gilead, with peace that the world giveth not. Mr. Everton, too, returned to Montego Bay, and Relen went on her quiet way, busy with her house hold duties, and devoting part of the morning to study. Weeks, months passed on, and if there were a deeper shade of sadness on Relen's brow, she strug. gled against giving way to grief; and whilst she carefully avoided all allusion to Captain Ingram, she sometimes, even in the pre.ence of her father, would speak of Mr. Everton, the loss of whose society Mr. Maynard began at length opeul y to regret. It was one evening, I well remember, towards Christmas, when the north winds were unusually s

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180 IIELEN MAYNARD. strong, that Mr. Everton, with perhaps a little re serve in his manner, again appeared amongst us. Yon must let me remind you, dear young friends, that my tale is not one of fiction-the occurrences I am relating to you are simply those that took place in real life j they are facts to which I cannot even now recur without earnestly desiring that you may in the morning of your days seek your Saviour as your friend, and live so near to him that you may pour forth your heart before him, till above the turmoil of life shall rise the accents, "This is the way, walk ye in it j" so shall the weakness of your youth be girt with the strength of Omnipotence, and as you advance on the chequered path of life, you shall look upwards with a smile that earthly sorrow cannot quench, and gratefully say, "Happy is he that hath the God of Jacob for his strength, whose hope is in the Lord his God." Every day but Sunday Mr. Everton was at Banff Hall, and every e vening Helen appeared to b e exert ing herself to please her father. She would ask him if she should sing his favorite songs with Mr. Everton, and then whilst doing so, unconsciously convinced every one around, that the effort was almost too much for h er. She would study German with him dili gently, and the progress s h e made was so rapid that she astonished h e r teacher. There was an

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HELEN MA YN ARD, 181 activity of restlessness about her, altogether different from that buoyant spirit of healthful enjoyment that animated her when first we met. Helen was at this time, Rimply from affection to her father, striving agajnst the attachment, that parental love could not sanction. I believe she prayed, that is, that she went over the form of accustomed words every morning; she shut her door, but she could not shut out the distracting thoughts that perplexed her, and in the embarrassment of her present trial she breathed to God, through Christ, no fervent prayer for relief, and therefore the fragrance of that pro mise never revived her drooping heart. I will be with thee in trouble." I believe that, at this time, had Mr. Everton agajn asked for her band she would have consented to be come his wife. Perhaps he dived into her feelings; perhaps he saw the motives which now actuated her. He would look earnestly at her, in a tender pitiful way, and when her cheek became pale and her dark eyes lost their britliancy, he urged Mr. Maynard to consult a phy ffician, and it was a trying sight to watch him binding down his feelings in reserve and silence, yet remaining near her, as if misery in her presence were better than desolation without her. I sometimes thought that Mr. Maynard was trifling S 2

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182 HELEN MA YN!.RD. with this gentleman's feelings. In his anxiety for Helen, he certJlinly had forgotten the sorrow he might be causing another; but Mr. Everton knew something of the strength made perfect in our weak ness, he knew something of the plenitude of comfort, of the peace inexpressible given to the seeking tone immersed in earthly trouble Though with regard to his affection for Helen, all seemed vexation of spirit; he knew there was a fountain of happiness at God's right hand, of which those who thirsted might freely drink He waited on the Lord, and his strength was renewed, and when he bade adieu to our home circle, it was with a calmness of manner which shewed that the peace of God kept his heart and mind through Christ J esUB. Yes, Mr. Everton left us, and rather suddenly too, and Mr. Maynard looked harassed and perplexed The little cloud I had noticed on the far horizon was spreading-Helen had become habitually grave, but though the smile was almost quenched, the sister's kindness was heard in her tone and seen in her gentle eye. I tolcl her to seck comfort from her God. I am not sorrowful," she replied. Oh how her looks belied her, "but Papa is," she continued, "and I sometimes wish you wonld talk to him and beg him not to be so uneasy about me; when we arc together

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HELEN .M..4. YN ARD. 183 he can scarcely take his eyes from my face, and if inadvertently I sigh, he is discomposed for the rest of the evening." What a blight had come over us all; in fact some change was necessary for Helen, and as Mr. Maynru.'d could not leave Montego Bay, and as Helen entreated not to be compelled to leave him, Mrs. Cornell and her daughter Ella were invited to spend a few weeks at the hall. Helen would have remonstrated with her father against this visit. There was little congeniality of mind between herself and Ella, but she hoped, that even the excitement of visitors might rouse her father from his depression J\frs. Cornell had some knowledge of music, and was always ready to play quadrilles or waltzes, as the occasion might require, and it was, no doubt, this desirable accomplishment that made the youthful part of the community so value her society; for she had an enquiring busy manner, and her expressions, or rather her thoughts, had a natural sort of way of resolving themselves into queries. You never could be an unconcerned listener to Mrs. Cornell. She prided herself too on the aristocratic tone of her voice. This, perhaps, made her love to hear it. It might have been on this account that her questions followed each other with such relentless energy. If s 3

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184 HELEN HA TN AlUl. the day were warmer than usual, is it not 8Ul.try, she would say, thus commanding your attention, for common politeness required an answer. If she but dropped her pocket handkerchief, and you gave it to her again, nm I not troublesome, would be the catechetical remark. Poor Helen! How I pitied her for the marLyrdom she endured in answer-giving. Yet it must have drawn her, though unple.MlUltly, from brooding on the past, and the self-denial she was called upon to practise, was, no doubt, a medicine which, though bitter was useful, inasmuch as it drew her from self in the continued forbearance she was called on to exercise. Do you not sometimes find it solitary here, my dear? But is not Mr. Scott's society a great advantage? It was often puzzling to know to which query a reply was expected. Is not Mr. Everton a delightful man, Helen; and why have you given up your musical parties? We must have regular practising in the evening, must we not?" What was the name of that Irish gentleman who sang so sweetly?" In the perplexity which the last question caused Helen, she sheltered herself by answering the first;

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HELEN YA YN ARD. 185 and she spoke of Mr. Everton with much earnest ness, describing bim as intelligent, accomplished, md a most instructive and entertaining companion Mr. Maynard had intended this visit solely for his daughter's comfort i but he soon discovered how mis taken he had been in the plan he had adopted for this purpose. It is true, she did not brood so much on self; but there was a resigned sadness in her ma.nner, which pierced by its very passiveness that father's heart. A lady is ever known by the intonation of her voice, Mrs. Cornell would say. Mr. Cornell, before he saw her, had determined she should be his wife, from the circum stance of having overheard her speaking to her brother This recollection seemed to influence her conduct with regard to Ella, who had been so trained and tutored to think an establishment in life the first thing to be desired, that in every gentleman who approached her, she saw, or fancied she saw the cha racter of husband mysteriously shadowed forth. Ella's laugh was never known toriseaboveC; nay, when poor suffering Helen was once or twice drawn into mirth, I remember Mrs. Cornell would go to the piano, and, striking the notes as if she were tuning it, Helen dear, she would say, you are a whole tone too high.

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18G HELEN MAYNARD. Ella's manner with me was constrained and awk ward. Although scarcely seventeen, her happiness seemed bllBCd on the idea, that she might now put aside her books. She did so; bnt at the very commencement of her career, she proved, that cessation from healthful mental employment was not rest. The mind is re lieved by having something on which to put forth energies which, implanted by God, can never be ex tinguished; the listlessness of sloth did not belong to her nature, and poor Ella soon added one more to the world's thouMnds, who, whilst congratulating themselves on the delights of a vacant leisure become in reality the busy idler the reckless mischief maker, or the systematic gossip .And thus the morning of her life was passing onthus early was the radiance of it becoming overcast. Luxury could not bring contentment, nor enervation of mind peace; and, whilst she reluctantly acknow ledged that blight was on her spring, and cloud on her morning sky, in strange infatuation she turned from the a1fectionate entreaty, "Come unto me, and I will give you rest." Putting aside the inestimable privilege of devoting in early life the heart to God, vie,ving it, if such an expression be allowable through a worldly medium; how much beauty of mind is developed-how much true grace

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IO;LEN HAYNARU. 187 and case of manner become apparent, in the charac ter that has, as it were, bespoken tho strength of Omnipotence for the future trials of life. Amidst the daily din and disquietude of conflicting occurrences, such a one is soothed by the chime of heavenly promises, the tones of which the worldling doth not hear. They are calm, where others are ruffled, for their way is committed to the Lord i they arc steadfast, where others are wavering, for their stronghold is the Rock of Ages i they mount above trial on eagle's wings, where others are overwhelmed, for they wait on the Lord, and their strength is re newed i and, to a girl just entering on life, is not her very loveliness heightened, and her gracefulness of manner enhanced, when the charity that hopeth all things beams in her smile, and the cultivated mind is associated with the winning and gentle spirit that is not easily puffed up. Oh, yes i the gem may gleam in her hair, or tho diamond glitter on her brow i but, when the pearl of great price is in her bosom, the gorlliness with contentment lets fall some rays of the beauty of holiness on her face, and the ornament of a meck and quiet .pirit sheds over her whole deportment a radiance so superior to outward adorning, that the

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188 BELEN MAYNARD. careless looker on, has been constrained to say, "He beautifieth the meek With salvation./1 lIut, very far have I wandered from Helen, dear Helen, whom I see before me now, in her repressed but inwardly corroding sorrow. She afterwards told me, that she was at tbis time struggling in her own strength to do what was right. She ne.,.er once thought of the reviving assurance, "My gracc is sufficient for thee; /I and, therefore, in the multitnde of sorrows within h e r, no h eave nly comfort filled her soul. 1tfrs. Cornell, to rouse Helen, as she said, from melancholy, insisted on music. How can we sing the Lord's song in a strange land, was the sorrowful exclamation of the Jewish exile many hundred years ago, and still how harshly do the notes of mirth fall on the heart that is weary with its own bitterness. Those dreary musical evenings are present with me still. There is Mr. Maynard, with bis harassed look, holding the newspaper before him, but every minute his anxious glance rests on Helen, who is listening to Miss Cornell's song, or quietly sitting by my side at the low sofa table, translating German. How painfully defined now was that shadowy ex pression in her eyes, even when she laughed it was

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TtELEN V& YNARD. 189 unchanged, and was strangely unbecoming to one so young. It would not do. Miss Cornell's efforts at spright liness, and her mamma's well-preserved cadences of tones, the most aristocratical, were all insufficient to bring anything like gladness into that party. The very chords of the piano seemed to vibrate only to sadness; but those walls were to look on deeper sorrow yet than gently, gently, you are ready to say, do not, Mr. Scott, run on with your story Well, when Mrs. Cornell found there was no hope of more enlivening society, she pleaded a sudden engagement at Montego Bay, and left our saddened party for the more sprightly community of that capital. And now a change cnme over that mountain home. Weary days and sleepless nights were Mr. May nard's portion. He saw his intensely loved child drooping, fading before his eyes. She had never murmured, and even now had it been possible, she would have married Mr. Everton for her father's sake. She was losing the elasticity of her spirit, and the very energy of her mind was failing. "What, and all this, because Helen could not many Captain Ingram, you are ready to say! Why,

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190 lfELEN MAYNARD. Mr. Scott, you are putting b e for e us tbe romance of a nov e l." "No suc h thing," deor friends. "I am telling you of one, in real life wbo did not seek strength from her God to kee p her beart with nil dilig e nce, who loved fondly and earnestly ere sbe had asked for beavenly direction; and who, in the day of temptation, uncheered by a single promise, could but seck comfort by clasping to her heort the poisonous flower, whicb, ere long, was to pierce her through with many thorns." Ah! do not, too many of you, rush on thus thoughtlessly, as if a matter of earthly affection were too trivial a thing to take to the God of Israel. Be persuaded by me, deor friends, that your path through lifo will never be a blessed one, till you have learnt to sprcad every care, every difficulty before your God. Believe the experience of an old man when he tells you, that the perplexity will be unravelledthe embarrassment lightened, and strength given to tbe failing heart, if in childlike confidence you go to Him who was in nil points tempted like as we are. Oh, bow often would the dangerous course be left unpursued, the God-estranging affection be resolutely rcpelled, if in nil places, under any circumstances, I

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HllLEN )rA YWAl!D. 191 we remembered Him, who says, "I will instruct thee, I will guide thee with mine e ye, I will lead thee in the way in which thou shouldst go." As I have before said, Mr. Maynard did not value religion. He objected to Captain Ingram principally, I belicve, because he was so unacquainted with his family; but a sharp attack offever with which Helen was at this time scized, decided Mr. Maynard on his future mode of proceeding. Without serious thought, without one breath of prayer for guidanoe, he re called Captain Ingram. Alas, alas for him, who in the perplexities of life, looks not to his Redeemcr, nor has he respect unto the Holy One of Israel. "Behold at eventide trouble, and before the morning he is not." It was a painful duty, but I remonstrated with Mr. Maynard for the sake of his beloved child. I warned him of the dangerous step he was about to take; I told him my fears concerning Captain Ingram, that hc was a godless careless man; Can you trust him with your child?" I said, Can you give her a sweetened poison, and expect it to be a r cstomtive? But Mr. Maynard would not look on the shadows of Captain Ingram's character, and he tried to comfort himself with the idea that he could discern in him no palpable fault. Besid0s too, Mr. Maynard had healYl T

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192 HELEN MAiNARD. something of the respectability of Captajn Ingram's family, and as he had, as yet, kept inviolate the world's code of honor, Mr. Maynard turned his back on the anticipation of danger, and tried to battle aga.inst that secret misgiving for which there is no accounting, but which seems like the still small voice of holy remonstrance whispered in the ears, even of those who go on frowardly in the way of their own hearta. And Helen lay on the sofa in that state of nervous and excitabl e weakness which sometimes follows fever, and Captain Ingram was beside her; beside her in that chastened and subdued spirit whic h showed he too had sorrowed. My heart softened as I looked at him, and I almost felt angry with myself for having been so severe in my judgment concern ing him. There was no kind of triumph expressed at the idea of his prese nce being so necessary to Helen. In a quiet sort of grateful way, he con versed with Mr. Maynard, and the calm, stealing over Helen's face, made me long to hope that the sunshine of happiness would again cheer that home circle. o Weeks and weeks passed on, dear young friends without any of those striking occurrences that form a nal'1'ative. I never afterwards passed that old house without thinking of Helen as she then was walking in the

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HJ::LEN VA YNA.RD. 193 piazza with Captain Ingram, or sitting by his side at dinner. The little trial through which she had passed had softened her manner, and a shadowy depth of thought was still in her eyes, or the change might have been the result of that simple and earnest affection which cannot, I think, exist with any great exuberance of mirth; yet was she full of a grateful kind of happiness. W hat have you not done for me, papa," she would say; and then she would build hope's fairy castles in the air, and talk of her English home, where her dear old father was to end his days. How inexpressibly tender was the old man's RmiJe as he listened to her, then hurriedly taking up his newspaper, he would try to conceal his face from us, laughingly saying, that Helen was endeavouring to make him exchange politics for love in a cottage, at his ti mo of life. Dut an aged and widowed father's love for an only daughter, we approaoh it delicately. It is as if all the tenderness of his life were concentrated in this last affection. It is made up of softened me mories of the babes who died in infancy, of touch ing recollections of the one cherished f01 m that long ago he laid to rest amidst tho sods of the earth. All these outlets of affection are as it were thrown back, to swell the overflowing tide of. this father's T 2

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llELEN YAYNABD. love which marvellously forgetting self, endureth all things-hopeth all things, and even when intel lect is weakenod, cannot fail. Those still and radiant evenings when tho moon light, with its silvery pencil was clearly tracing every leaf of the delicate foliage of the tamarind tree, when the land breeze bore gently onwards its whisperings of the mountains to the far Rea, taking on its course gifts of fragrance from tho night flowers to the distant billows, all this comes back again, dear friends, as I speak to you of Helen. Why was it that at such times as these the old fccling of distrust came over me? I cannot tell. But true it was, a boding fear of evil-nay, moro than fear, it had formed itself into a mysterious knowledge, that as I looked at Helen, darkly whispered-prize that, smile whilst it is there, and treasure those glad tones while yet they fall on your car. Mr. Maynard too, was not quite at his ease. Ho had a gentle spirit, and I believe he had succeeded in persuading himself, that hy his present line of conduct, he was promoting his daughter's hap pmess. No chimo of merry bells was borne by the sea breeze up into the mouniJ!in land, yot there wa.

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UELEN MAYNARD, 195 wedding at my own little church. I stood at the altar as they knelt before me, Captain Ingram and Helen, ruJd never did I go through the service ,vith II morc sorrowful heart than on that occasion. Poor girl! I remember the extremo simplicity of her appearance in contrast with the studied dress and artificial manner of the bridesmaid, who was no other than our friend Ella Cornell. But, more than all this, in pajnfnl distinctuess, do I remember that old man's face the father: a slanting sunbeam from the high-roof window fell on his forehead, and played on his snowy hair, his eyes were filled with tears, his lips quivered, and his look said, l\8 plainly as words could say: "I have staked my precious child's happiness on this fearful throw, what if I lose?" Hc hall .rot committed his way unto the Lord, and he knew notlling of that pence which is the heritago of those whose steps are directed by the faithful God of J 8cob. Helen looked tranquil, and Captain Ingram's manner W8S composed. Before the conclusion of the service, however, he became very pale, and just as he turned to take Helen from the church, he fell senseless on tho steps of the altar As Captain Ingram soon recovered, his illness was attributed to oyer-excitement. How sweetly T 3

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196 BELEN 'MA1'NAHD. Helen soothed him. I wond e red he did not smile more. But at the iJejeune all grew cheerful again; and when Helen left us with her husband, in the even ing, I found myself trying to persuado Mr. May nard, that he might look hopefully forward on his daughter's untried future, and I had almost reasoned myself into the belief there was a want of Christian charity in the feelings I had entertained towards Captain Ingram. The marriage tour was quickly accomplished, and again my sister friend was amongst us as before, for she was to remain with us three months previous to her return to England with her husband. The dear old time had come back again, she was the playful daughter-the unaffected friend, and Cap tain Ingram had only changed from the agreeablo visiter into the dutiful son, and carnestly devoted husband. I love to think of those days. Mr. May nard's smile grew so bright, and Helen's laughter became so joyous, that I teo was inB.uenced by their spirit of happiness; and in my convcrsations with Helcn, I begged her to spread her joy before the Lord, and to ask, that by the mercies of her God, she might be constrained to surren d e r her heart to him. There wero times when Captain Ingram did not seem to participate in tho tranquillity of Helen's con-

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MAYN ARD. 197 tcntment; and yet it was not sadness that oppressed bim, but a sort of nervous restlessness that took possession of bim. His brilliancy of conversation almost entirely forsook bim, yet his tenderness to Helen rather increased than diminished. He pleaded ill health in excuse for his changed manner, and when the old distrustful feeling again crept over me, I resolutely combated with it, as if by so doing I was removing danger from Helen. But at length came a talk of parting, then pre parations for the voyage, and at last, the evening of their embarkation for England. How glorious was the heaven whilst the bay spread out before us like a sheet of molten gold. The land breeze lingered, and we remained late on board the vessel. How I felt for Mr. Maynard. For years his daughter had twined round his heart as the tendril round the oak He had so long cherished her, and now it was not death that separated them; but to another tree would Helen cling, yet llnrepiningly he gave her up, if by so doing he could increase her happiness. She had new hopes, new ties, and though very sor rowful at the separation from her father, the hopeful future was before her, looking in the distonce like enchanted: ground. Mr. Maynard, in the pressure of a silent embrace, bids her farewell! He turns at the hatchway one look more, with all the father

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198 lfELEN )A YN ARD. in his face -so full of tender, intelligcn t love! Prize that look, Helen, engrave it on your heartbind it on yonr memory, yon will need it in after years that father's parting gaze! The stream returns not to the fountain, and the past comes not back again. We all felt that Banff Hall conld never more be what it had been. Poor Mr. Maynard! it was some weeks before he conld attend to business, and then we tried to per s nad e him, that he might yet add to his danghter's dowry. This was a new thought. To work for hi m self was a heavy thing; but if h e conld still benefit Helen, why then life was not utterly bereft of purpose, so, invigorated by this id ea, he again visited the office. If he attendc'
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JfELEN M.A.YNARD. 199 when Mr. Maynmu received the intelligence that he was a grandfather. Another Helen had entered on the pilgrimage of life, the end of which is im mortality I remember well that evening, Mr Maynard, with his packet letter in his hand, strolled with me along the mountain side. The purple twilight was resting heavily amongst the mango trees. The bay below us lay calm in !I shadowy sleep, the fire-flies were coming forth in myriads from the wooded hill land around, and the just awakening l and breeze had startled the datura into fragrance, and gently unfolded the streamers of one or two outward-bound vessels. I have often since thought of it, that old man's gladness, and of the new idea that so suddenly took possession of his mind to scttle all his J amaiea affairs, and to spend the evening of his days with his precious child What were all tho fragrance and beauty of that radiant tropic-land to him. BIle was gone. There was the never-ceasing melody of the ocean, but her voice had passed away. IIis garden flowers flourish ed and luxuriantly too; but the fairest was missing, and what were these to bim. So the old man's mind was made up. He would go to England. It is true there were many things to be arranged before he conld leave J umaiea. A

PAGE 221

200 UELEN )fA YN ABD. suitable partner must be obtained, long standing debts scttled; his house must be lct; but no matter, the very project was cxhilirnting-life was no longer without purpose, and anticipation itself constituted prescnt enjoymcnt. I quictly went on my way, sometimes exchanging duty with a friend for a few months, but always returning with gladness to my simple people, and to my kind and generous hearted friend Mr. :Maynard We heard regularly from Helen, and the spirit of qniet home, happiness scemed almost visibly amongst us again as she told us of the peaceful fireside, of the endearing ways of her little Helen. Judge then of my surprise, when on taking up the paper carelessly one morning, at :Montego Bay, the first paragraph that mct my eye was, "Arrivals at Kingston, :Mrs. Ingram and daughter." What could be the menning of this? I took the paper to Mr. :Maynard, who was at his mountain home, so debilitated from intermittent fever that he was unable to walk across the room ; his whole frome appeared to receivo a shock when he heard of his child's sudden return to Jamaica. .All cannot be well, :Mr. Scott," he said, "and yet perhaps the poor girl has lost her husband, and in the first impulse of her sorrow returned to her father;" then his face brightencd a little, and he

PAGE 222

HELEN MAYNARD. 201 said, "Let her come, sweet bird, the dove to the ark of home." But no time wns to be lost, so I set oft' in the evening for Kingston. Yes, it must be Helen, that lady in deep mourning with the pale child at her side. She wns writing as I entered the room, and as the land breeze wns strong and busy amongst a cluster of date trees just outside the windows, she did not at first hear my steps; but when she looked. up there was our dear affectionate Helen, changed indeed -her cheeks were sunken, and her shadowy eyes had the kind of expression that told you they were accustomed. to tears. My friend, I said, my dear suffering sister." Hastily sending her little daughter from the room, she wept long and bitterly. "My poor father-his grey hairs will indeed go with sorrow to the grave." I cannot, at this distance of time recall our long and painful conversation, suffice it to say that poor Helen discovered that Captain Ingram had been for some years married. to a Scoteh lady; her wealth had been the temptation, for she was many years his senior. He had separated from her, and when he met with Helen, having no principle to guide him, no strong tower in which to shelter himself from the fiery darts of temptation, all that the world calls honorable principle past from him as a leaf on the stream of impetuous inclination, and for the sake of

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202 UJ:r.F.N MA YN A..RD. (l little selfish and troubled bappiness, he shrouded in sorrow and disgrace those, who but for him had en joyed tho happy sunshine of an affectionate home. Alas, alas! to what lengths will not the best of' us go when we are unmindful of the Rock that begat us, when we forget the God that formed us. Poor Helen! This sad knowledge of her own sitaation had come to h e r after years of devoted kindness from Captain Ingn1m; and even now it was his sin that pained her more than h e r own lInhappy condition. Her life was darkened. The stigma of shame was on her guileless child, and all this misery had yet to be unfolded to her old father. "But we will pray, Mr. Scott," she said; "we will ask for strength and guidance." .A.b, "Ye shall know that I have not done without cause, all that I have done in it, saith the Lord God." "Affliotion springeth not forth from the dust, neither doth trouble come out of the ground. That night of weeping was dark indeed. The day of her espousal was henceforth to be veiled in shame, and remembered amidst the sighs and tears of a broken heart. No one earthly friend was Denr her in the first hours of that overwhelming anguish, and he who had been hitherto the affectionate counsellor was for ever separated from her."

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UELEN VA YNARD. 203 Oh, tho desolating sorrow of that fearful time Then it was, that, driven as it were, to Rim who is acquainted with grief, she tremblingly cried, "Lord save, or I perish." I do not mean to say, that her heart was filled with instantaneous peace; but the cry went forward, and the Intercessor presented it to the father, and on the bleak wilderness of her desolate life, she saw on the far horizon some gleamings of the Jerusalem which is from above. In tllis hurri cane of anguish faith as a dawning light, shadowed forth Rim whose invitation to the weary is: "Come unto me, and I will give you r est And yet we rail at trial. We may look on it as needful for the reprobate or unbeliever, but as Christians we can strangely forget that whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth. When all is pretty smooth with us, how often do we go on cavilling at, and arguing about certa in doctrines, allowing a shadow of difference on some passing opinion of no moment to swell our hearts with indignation and resentment. Then the sudden anguish comes, and oh! how thrown aside as useless aro all these dissensions. If the sorrow be sanctified, how simply are we com pelled to look to God as deliverer in so doing the spirit of humility expands, and in our softened coun tenance and milder deportment, all around are con vinced, that he who loveth God loveth his brother also. U

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204 HELEN YAYNARD. But to return from our long digression to Helen. Pardon me, dear friends, I approach the saddest part of my uarrative. Before the afternoon of the next day we were at Ban ff Hall. Helen was locked in her father's fond embrace, then the grandchild was caressed, but put aside again for his own dear Helen. I was dreading the explanation, for I well knew the old man would never be satisfied till all tho truth was told. I left them alone, and sauntered in the piazza, fearful of being too far away I heard a scream, and on rushing to Mr. Maynard, found him sense less. We untied his cravat, and a negro doctor on the estate, took blood from his arm. Before night two medical men arrived from Montego Bay. To wards morning he opened his eyes, and after a little while knew us aga.in, yet a strange expression rested on his face; he did not speak much He asked Helen to arrange his pillows more comfort ably, and called for a glass of water. How uneasily she glanced from him to me. I knew her fear, and felt afraid to look at her. Some hours rest might, however, restore him, and somewhat tranqllillized by this idea, Helen took her watchful seat by his side. He slept long and soundly, and on waking, addressed his daughter as if no time had elapsed

PAGE 226

lU:LEN 1\U NARD. 205 since Mr. Everton had been a visitor at Be. nff Hall. An icy coldness fell on Helen's heart. She looked imploringly at me, as if I could aid her. I could ouly gently say, "He doth not willingly a1!lict nor grieve the children of men." 0, Mr. Maynard, if you had but paused, ere you gave your daughter to one who feared not God, this bitter fr"llit-this fearful trial had not been yours! Dear Hele n, it was piteous to see her loolring at her father; but the realization of her sorrow had not yet arrived. Never, never shall I forget the first day that Mr. Maynard was able to leave his room and to come amongst us. There was no kind of gladness, it was sorrow inexpressible. The tears were silently chas ing each other down poor Helen's face, as assisted by me, she supported her father to walk in the piazza. He caught her tears in his hand, and smilingly told her not to fr'et, that Captain Ingram was waiting to sing to her. He thought ouly in the past; the sorrow-darkened present he could not comprehend. And then week after week pas sed on, and there was no improvement, MJ.'. Maynard grew strong again; but the mind was clouded for eve r. Poor suffering H elen! And how did she stand? u 2

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206 maJilN ?tfAYNABD. When my heart is overwhelmed within me, lead me to the Rock that is higher than 1. This was now her prayer. We have almost forgotten the fragrance of the orange tree in the protracted sunshine; but the night has darkened, the heavy tropical rain has fallen, and the whole atmosphere is impregnated with the delightful perfume. The storm had indeed bowed down Helen, and laid waste her heart's pleasant land. The joy of her girlhood could never come again; but she knew whom she had believed, and talring hold of the promises of her God, she confidingly said, though he slay me, yet will I trust in Him. The world knew nothing of all this. They looked on it as a case of unmitigated misery, indeed Mrs. Cornell was one of the first to decide, that hannless as Helen was, the association at Banff Hall was no longer desirable for Ella; and yet, through the darkness of that heavy sorrow, angels bore to heaven the rejoicing tidings of one sinner that re pented. There was joy in the presence of God over that gentle and repentant being, who, cast do wn, but not destroyed, was lying at the feet of Rim whose voice louder than the tempest she heard saying, "It i s I, be not afraid."

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HELEN M4 YNA.RD. 207 Again months and months passed on. Acquain tances ceased to enquire after Mr. Maynard, and friends forgot to sympathize with Helen. Little Helen grew and flourished as flowers will do in rainy weather: she was very like her mother, only delicately fair It must have been the atmosphere of sorrow in which she lived, that gave her that earnest look, which sometimes rested so painfully on her young face. Ot, how patiently, how un weariedly did that su1fering momma lead her child to take every passing disquietude to her Saviour, and little Helen had already learnt bravely to meet disappointment, and I believe that young as she was, she knew something of that closet communion ,vith her Saviour, so invigorating and sustaining to the traveller in this changeful world Two more years glided by, and then our Helen's strength all at once gave way. The old man, her father, did not notice it. As she lay on the sofa with her sunken cheeks, he sat beside her Bmilitlg; and then I wonld remember the anxious tender lovo once expressed in his affectionate gaze. He had a curious habit of catching Helen's tears as the y fell-looking on them with delight as they glittered on his fingers, as a child wonld look on a s parkling toy. On e morning wh e n things wer e going on in this u 3

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208 HELEN 'MAYNARD. way, and Helen fading rapidly, the servant came hurriedly to me, and said: "Massa one buckra gentleman outside, him 'peak very softly, and say him wish to see massa 1" Ask him in," I replied, as I continued writing. It was well I was alone in my study, Captain Ingram was before me. His marked and handsome features were easy of recognition. His wife was dead, and he had come to Jtake all the reparation in Iris power to Helen. Oh, surely, surely, I thought, as I witnessed his agony, when I made known to him Helen's state of health, and Mr. Maynard's sad condition, whilst the path of the just grows brighter and brighter to the perfect day, the way of those who fear not God grows more barren as they journey on. I had to break the matter to Helen. I told her as gently as I could, I had heard a report that Captain Ingram was a widower. I know not if thero was any unusual excitement in my manner, or if she had heard the entrance of a visitor, but she instahtly fainted, and, in spite of all my remon stranccs, I could not keep Captain Ingram from her. He was kneeling at her side, bathing her temples, and begging her to speak to him. At length sho recovered, and, in an instant her thin arms were clasped round his neck.

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llAY.NAll.D. 209 I callnot relate to you, dear friends, all that fol lowed j but on tho great sea of forgetfulness thoro yet float one or two touching memories of the past. I remember how Helen spoko of her own lifo as passing away, how clearly she pointed out to Captain Ingram that her sorrows had all arisen from neglecting to seek heavenly direction, from looking to earthly love as hoI' guido instead of keeping her eye fL ... ed on Him who is the bright and morning star. I remember too, how Captaiu Ingrnm wept, as the little Helen looked wonderingly from him to her mamma, conscious that some great sorrow was around her. And I recollect, oh! how vividly, Mr. Maynard, as he sat in the arm-chair in the midst of all this, smiling perpetually, and asking Captain Ingram to sing some of his sea-songs, as if Helen were still in her untroubled girlhood-as if sin and sorrow had made no chango in that onco happy household. Sometimes he would speak of little Helen as a stranger, that his daughter had adopted, and then suddenly he wonld address her liS his child, telling her, that she wonld soon be tall enough to sit at his table, nnd cheer his lonely home. His mind was gone. Helen had been his all j and when the stream of his happiness was poisaned at the fountain, when vanity and vexation of spirit had t,vincd themselves round this strong affection,

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210 lIETEN :M.A. YN A RD reason tottered, and fell. He had not stayed hirn seU on Jehovah, and no great peace was there to sustain him in the evil tidings of the day of trouble. But time was passing on. There must be a wedding-yes, in the midst of sadness, such as this, the bridal ceremony must be performed. I have officiated at many marriages, and though some have taken place amidst weeping and sadness, few clergymen, through a lengthened course of mi nisterial labour can look back to a wedding so steeped in sorrowful recollection as that of which I now speak Forgive me, dear young friends. 111e past comes over me with power-a few moments, and I will tell you all. It is evening The eternal mountains are before us, and the room is filled with golden light. A cluster of orange trees li! full bloom, shadow the middle part of the piazza, and in their shelter Helen reclines in a large Spanish chair. She is too weak to sit up, and is wrupped in a shawl; but through its folds I can see the palpitating heart. Her lips are very white. Who stands over the back of that chair? He is unconscious of all that is going on. Yet look, what is he doing? It cannot be quite incomprehensible to him. He has plucked the snowy-white orange-Hewer, and placed it ever

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I:IELEN )U YN A.H.D. 211 Helen's forehead, the only sign, the mute and touching sign of the ceremony about to be per formed. As I read the service, Captain Ingram kneels at Helen's side in sobs and tears. Little Helen held my hand, and looked painfully per plexed. Poor Mr. Maynard's unfajling BIDile came over the high chairback chillingly as snow would have fallen on the rich wood-land spread out before us. Then how painfully came back the memory of that father's parting look, as he stood at the vessel's side Helen became insensible; they sprinkled water on her pale face; but I resolutely continued the serVlce. "Now you are truly mine," said Captain Ingram, as I concluded, "my own wife." Ah! that sweet name could not reach her ear; yet she bore the reproach of her saddened widow hood no longer. Her Maker was her husband! The Lord of Hosta is his name. The excitement had been too much for her shattered frame, and the spirit had passed away! The scene that followed is one of those thrilling remembrances that sometimes comes in on my quiet old age with an energy of recollection that is almost overpoweling. Captain Ingram's wild and bitter

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212 lELEN MAYNARD. self reproach; the little girl's helpless sorrow. On ber mother's knee she sat, and held in her young ombrace tM dead! Mr. Maynard missed life in his daughter'S face, he missed her tears-her smilcs, and in the t;llmult of all this grief ho walked calmly about the house, searching in every room, as if a book or a hat had been missing. Before the evening of the next day, we were again assembled going through our beautiful and solemn sen'ice for the dead. How profound was the silenco. On the green slope we stood, with the shadowy bills looking down on us. H Before the mountains were bronght forth, or ever the earth and the world were made, thou art God from everlasting and world without end." And then we laid Helen, at her own particular request, amongst the flowers, silent emblems of the sweet resurrection hope. Throughont the wholo service Mr. Maynard smiled. He did not in tho least nnderstand what we were doing. Once he said, H Leave her by the orange trees." No inap propriate suggestion, 88 her life had passed away whilst their snow-white bloom W88 yet on her forehead; as the memory of that bridal flower must henceforth, with our thoughts of Helen be associated with death. Poor Mr. Maynard! Some relatives in the counI

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HELEN MA.YNA.RD. 213 try took him under their care, and he left his cherished home,-his daughter's narrow resting place "roiling calmly, yet looking round for some thing gone, as if the craving of affection, though bewildered could not be totally quelled though lost in darkness, could not perhaps be utterly extin guished. Captain Ingram lived for some time after Helen's death. In after years my daughters were very fond of a sweet girl, to whom they looked up as to an elder sister, and always l oved to have her with them, for ehe had a peculiar way of convincing them there could be no real happiness without seeking first thc kingdom of God and his righteousness. I see, dear friends, you have already guessed this was Helen-the second Helen. Well, there was a talk of her marriage with a medical man in our neighbourhood. How easily she got out of all perplexities, how calmly she un ravelled all entanglements. I knew the secret. There was one saying to her, "I will guide thee with mjne eye." She returned to England, and some little time had elapsed since we had heard of her, when my wife, who was looking over my !!houlder as I held the newspaper, suddenly read aloud, "At St. Paul's

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214' BELEN MAYNAJtD. Churoh, Bristol, by the Rev. Herbert Eve rton, H. Everton, Esq., Barrister-at-Law, to Helen, only daughter of the late Captain Ingram, of His Majesty's navy." Oh, what crowding memories rushed on me of our happy household circle at Banff Hall, long, long ago. I thought of our first Helen, as she had onoe stood before me a gentle bride, and how earnestly I prayed that my young daughters then around me might learn in their affeotions, as well as in their sorrows, to look for help to the Lord God of Israel. Some of the old people at Montago Bay will tell you of Banff Hall, although it is now altered, and bears another name; and if you ask them they will shew you the rude gravestone on the hill side, no longer enoircled by a garden, where, by cutting away the matted underwood, you will still see the motto, at Helen's request chiselled there :" In nll thy waY' acknowledge Him, and He ,balJ direct thy ,teps." London : E. VAII,TT. Printer, 27 itt If:i. C&momileStret.'t.

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WORKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR. Demy 16mo.. price 28. 6d. STORIES FROM THE GOSPELS, A GIFI' FOR Cnn.DRE..",(. Third Thomand. Imperial 16mo., price (8 THE FA MIL Y S E P U L C H R E, A TALE OF J AMAleA. Illmtrated wit" Woodcut.. Be_d Thoma"d Foolscap Bvo., price 68. LAYS OF THE SEA, h-n OTHER POEMS. Stcond Edition. Royal 1Bmo., price 38. M A U 0 E E F FIN G HAM, A TALE OF JAMAICA. Foolscap Bvo., price 3s. 6d. STORIES FROM THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES, Demy 16mo., price 6d. G RAN 0 PAP A'S B I R THO A Y S TMrd Thowa>ld. Demy 1Bmo. price 18. THE COT TON T R E E, A TALE } 'OR CHu.nREN. Second TJunuQtld. Demy 16mo., price 6d. THE LIT T LET E A C HER, &ctJtld Edition.

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LON DON :

DARTON & C9 HOLBORN HILL .

THE

MOUNTAIN PASTOR.

BY MRS. HENRY LYNCH,

AUTHOR OF “MAUDE EFFINGHAM,” ‘THE FAMILY SEPULCHRE,”
&e. &e.

veenvâ„¢



vwwewevev—ev

‘“‘ The strength of the hills is His also.”—PsaLM xcv.

PPAR ALLOIIIVIO

LONDON:
PUBLISHED FOR THE AUTHOR BY

DARTON & CO, HOLBORN HILL.

1852.

YO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE
DOWAGER COUNTESS OF SHAFTESBURY,
THIS LITTLE VOLUME

IS BY PERMISSION INSCRIBED,

AS A SMALL TOKEN

OF SINCERE RESPECT, BY

THE AUTHOR.

BR 2
oT aoe

Wee Pt


PREFACE.

BY THE LORD BISHOP OF JAMAICA.

Art the request of an authoress, not altogether un-
known to the literary and religious portion of the
community, I am about to write a few lines as
prefatory to the little volume which is, at the ap-
proaching season fraught with so many holy asso-
ciations, submitted to the intelligence of a discerning
public.

Of the domestic occurrences in the magnificent
but stricken island which constitutes the principal
portion of my extensive and distant diocese, little
has been known or inquired into by the mother
country.

The shattered fortunes, severed ties, the ruined

households, and the broken hearts which have,
b
PREFACE.

under God’s inscrutable counsels, been coincident
with one of the noblest and most consequential acts
that Christianity and philanthropy ever dictated,
have passed with little record or observation,
beyond the land which they have immediately
affected.

And yet to those who love to trace the hand of a
guiding and protecting God over the humblest and
most depressed of his creation—to those who delight
to read the vindication of his unsleeping mercy in
the history of families and individuals, on whom
fear and sudden desolation have come, with all the
fearful vicissitudes incidental to a tropical climate,
and the transient state of our West Indian popu-
lations; these records of the ‘‘ Mountain Pastor”
can scarcely fail to convey a vivid and edifying
interest.

Of the sustaining power of that holy religion
which it is the main design of the following pages
to instil and illustrate, the amiable and bereaved
lady to whom I have adverted, is herself a striking

example.
PREFACE.

Amid sorrows of a complicated nature, and cala-
mities of more than ordinary aggravation, she has
been enabled by Divine assistance to realize the
consolations which nothing but the Gospel of Christ
can afford, and to ascertain by painful experience,
that a Father of the fatherless, a Judge of the
widow, is God in his holy habitation.

The results of this experience and the lesson
which it teaches, are bodied forth in all the appa-
rent truthfulness of deed and of reality, in the fol-
lowing pages.

That these may be sanctified to the author’s own
temporal and eternal benefit, and to that of the
readers to whom they are commended, is the part-
ing prayer of one, who is now on the eve of embark-
ation on his return to the scenes which the authoress
has beautifully delineated, and to his share in the
labours which she has so feelingly described.

Avuprey G. JAMAICA.

107, Guoster Terrace, Hype Park.

lst November, 1851.
y
ae

Vee
<
0 Benttaes

Te00"


Sutraductory Letter.

i cuneneetentnmenennectenel

ComE away, dear young friends, come away from
busy, exciting London—its crowded streets, and
stately squares; turn your backs on the Crystal
Palace, that stands in itself a wonder, holding in its
arms of glass the marvellous works of art; turn from
the multitude, which can with difficulty be numbered,
as they stand looking on the power, that God has
given unto man: bid farewell to all this—and for
what purpose? to cross the trackless ocean, and to
search with me in a far distant island of the West
for the home of the Mountain Pastor. .

Up and away then into the highlands of the tropics.
The road is steep, and can only be ascended on horse-

back or on foot. The mountains, that, at a distance,
B 3
vi INTRODUCTORY LETTER.

seemed robed in purple, now wear the green dress of
the forest. Magnificent cedars are clustering together,
and throwing their rich shadows on the narrow
pathway. Courage, and look boldly down the almost
perpendicular precipice. The rains have swollen the
river, which is rushing impetuously on; and ill
brooking any control, the slightest opposition causes
it to foam and fret.

Oh, how beautiful is that Queen-like flower. Itis
called the Mountain Pride; and no wonder. There
it stands, in regal loveliness, with its coronet of
purple feathers—and its gems are the emeralds of its
own green leaves. Thoughtlessly it flourishes on the
very borders of that dashing flood. Another moment,
it is gone, and, as the stream bears it onward to the
ocean, we have passing thoughts of the young and
the lovely, carried early to the fathomless sea, that
rolls beyond the boundaries of time.

That mighty river! It cleaves the mountains in
its strength, and sweeps away thousands of flowers
in its resistless course, as if conscious that their fra-

grance could add nothing to the splendour of its
INTRODUCTORY LETTER. Vil

stormy path; and the voice of those waters murmurs
of Fame; of the powerful intellect that, making its
way through difficulties, compels the world to admire,
but that unwisely throws from it, in the haughty
consciousness of superiority, the sweet breathings of
affection, the gentle ties of household love.

There are bright days in the very heart of England’s
smoke-darkened capital; days, when the sun, awaking
in a benevolent mood, throws something of his glad-
ness on every dreary alley and unhealthy lane;
when even the dark shadows of the dingy corner
give by contrast a greater glory to the sunbeam;
when from the very river banks the mist retreats
discomfited ;—days that do not follow each other in
bright succession, but that, few and far between, we
prize as the friendless prize sympathy, or paupers
gold.

But how can we describe the light and shadow of
Jamaica’s mountain scenery, where motion is beauty,
where loveliness consists in change—where sun-
beams and shadows, though of natures so opposite,

are sporting together. The dull universal fog of
Vill INTRODUCTORY LETTER.

England’s November is there utterly unknown; but
thick white clouds come rolling down the mountain
side, and stand tremblingly over the gigantic trees,
refreshing but scarcely darkening the foliage. Now
a beam is piercing that dim recess, and shadow is on
the rock which, a little while ago, was radiant with
light. The sportive sun-rays seem determined to
convince us that they would lose their beauty if un-
associated with darkness, and we know that the
loveliness of the Christian character is never more
conspicuous than in the cloudy day of sorrow. This
was a remark of the Mountain Pastor’s.

Once more, then, up and away. Look at that tiny
stream, stealing almost noiselessly, with silvery foot-
steps, from the wooded height. Now we lose sight
of it, but we know its way by the fresh verdure in
its track—by the flowers that cluster on its very
course. Its bed is of ferns: soft and beautiful, they
try to lure the streamlet to rest amongst them; and
we are reminded of gentle spirits of whom the world
speaks not, whose brows the laurel chaplet has never

circled, but whose glad bright looks of love give
INTRODUCTORY LETTER. 1x

home its sweetest influence; whose names ambition
has never heard, but the drooping head is raised as
they pass, and the mourner’s eye glistens through its
tears at the whispered accents of consolation.

Now, dear friends, onward again, and higher,
higher into the thrilling silence of those lofty moun-
tains—on again

“‘ To see a beauty in the stirring leaf,
And find calm thoughts’ beneath the whispering trees.”’

But what trees? the delicate lilac and drooping
laburnum? Not so; this wild forest land owns no
such children. There are the feathery bamboo and
the majestic yacca; the magnificent cedar, and the
gigantic cotton tree. How intense is the silence—
how profound the solitude! Eternity seems stamped
on all—magnificence—God! ‘The strength of the
hills is His!” Look down the tremendous steep
into that ravine—the river-course below. In His
hands are the deep places of the earth. Yes; who
but the Mighty One could support by an invisible
hand those stupendous trees as they bend from their
x INTRODUCTORY LETTER.

dizzy height over the steep chasm. Here and
there are patches of rock-land, almost void of
foliage, and yet on these very spots delicately-tinted
flowers unfold their leaves, and are to that sterile
ground as bright smiles and kindly words to the
desolate.

Onwards again, and higher. Turn and look down
on the great swelling sea that seems to rise as it
spreads into the far horizon, covered with light as
with a garment, and the cloudless heaven stretched
out as a curtain above, declaring the glory of God.

Look back on the mountains. No snows ever
crown their summits. As well may the heart freeze
into indifference under the warm bright looks of
love, as frost find life beneath that tropic sun. * Yet
those fields of gleaming white, what are they? The
air is filled with a rich perfume. Look again.
We have arrived at some coffee plantations, and the
pure white blossoms clustering together make a field
of shining pearls. How delicately beautiful they
stand; no stain of dust is on them, for the mountain

rain has purified all within its influence. The dark
INTRODUCTORY LETTER. xl

ereen foliage presents a striking contrast to the
white flower; whilst underneath, the wild straw-
berries grow in myriads, lured into life and strength-
ened by the shelter of those glossy shrubs: and so
the wounded and shrinking spirit will rally and
revive under the sweet canopy of home !

But the Mountain Pastor’s dwelling ?>—

On, on, through the deep wood shades. Day
declines ; we know it by the crimson tints that dye
the dark Mahe trees, as their boughs wave grace-
fully in the cooler air; we know it by the golden
western light that the intertwining boughs cannot
shut out, and by the fragrance of the night-flower,
which the twilight in passing has awakened; we know
it by the rich blazonry on the silken palm tree, and
by the intense purple of the mountain shadows.

We are yet in time. In the very heart of this
world of solitude, with a halo of solemnity around
it, and an atmosphere of peace within, stands the
Rectory.

Come gently on. Twilight gives up her short
xil INTRODUCTORY LETTER.

reign, and night rapidly advances in all her jewellery
of stars.

We are not too late. There is a light in the
pleasant library, and already we feel the spell of
home.

Now we must introduce you to the good old man.
The silvery locks fall on his temples, but as spring
flowers rise up and bloom round the tree that has
looked on many winters, 80 grandchildren smile, a
lovely band, round the Mountain Pastor, and call
him blessed.

That servant of the Lord has had a long pil-
erimage ; but ask him, and he will tell you that he
has not been desolate ; ask him, and he will tell you
of a Comforter who has been with him—even the
Spirit of Truth, whom the world cannot receive.

The aged Pastor is now too feeble to engage in
any ministerial duties. Nobly in the might of his
Master he has borne the burden and heat of the day ;
and now that his strength is failing, still wishing to

be useful, he has evening meetings in his piazza, and
INTRODUCTORY LETTER. xiii

by relating some of the occurrences of his past life,
he endeavours to convince the young around him
that those only are blessed who serve the Lord ; that
godliness with contentment is great gain, having the
promise of the life that now is, as well as of that
which is to come.

We are not too late. We will take our seat by
that low window, and watch the land breeze sporting
with the thousands of wild roses on its path, and
stealing the fragrance from the starry jasmin. We
will listen to the Mountain Pastor as he relates his
recollections of the past, and connected with all that
is solemn and holy shall be our memories of the

Mountain Land of Jamaica
SORA ES

eae

Meeps reat

ts ae


THE MOUNTAIN PASTOR.



CHAPTER I.

Remembrances of Childhood.



I am a native of Jamaica, and was not sent to
England for school education till I was twelve years
of age; but I had a very worthy gentleman as tutor,
and I can never forget his patient efforts to make his
instructions easy, nor his forbearance with my whims
and petulances, for I must own that I was, in some
measure, a spoiled child.

Our general residence was in the lowlands, at a
long flat house near the sea. I have at this moment
clearly before me the interior of that mansion. There
is our sitting-room—I mean the room appropriated
to my tutor and myself. One window looks towards

c 2
2 REMEMBRANCES OF

the mountains, over which the silvery mist is steal-
ing as evening approaches, making them look more
distant but more beautiful than ever. The bats
begin their gambols in the twilight, and the mos-
quitoes their low dirge. Now the sky is gorgeously
red, and I look away to watch my pigeons, which are
soaring farther than ever, over the waste of cashaw
trees, yet regularly returning, as if spell-bound
by the sight of home; and when I look at the
western heaven again, the red has vanished, all is
dim and sombre. I learned in after life that many
bright things fade thus quickly. Then the stars
peep out, at first timidly, but as if gathering courage
from the sight of each other, they grow bold and
brilliant ; and 1 have learnt since, blessed be God,
that there is light for the darkest hour, if we but
seck it, that comfort 1s promised in the heaviest
affliction.

But I was telling you of the little room. There
was a low couch covered with blue damask, and at
‘ts side a small ottoman in the same dress. A
mahogany table, with deep drawers, and some stains
of ink on its surface, stood almost in the centre of
the room. Immediately above the couch was @
small bookcase: this contained all Mr. Maple’s
books. There were two broad shelves between the
windows that faced the west, and there lay, not
CHILDHOOD. 3

always as orderly as they should — my school
books, slates, &c.

How distinctly at this moment I see it all before
me. The door towards the balcony is always open.
I am so accustomed to the measured, melancholy
chime of the waves, that my whispered lessons keep
exact time to their voice of ‘waters. Now Mr. Maple
is lying on the sofa, with his dark blue. morocco
covered Pocket Bible in his hands. Sometimes he
sighs deeply, and then again his whole face is illu-
minated with a smile, which, even then I know, is
not kindled by any earthly joy. He is in communion
with the Father of Spirits, and I walk gently to the
window, through which a bold orange tree is peep-
ing—the land breeze has awakened all its fragrance.
I play with the snowy blossoms till I am lost in
thought. I wonder if my Aunt Davis is a Christian,
and if she is, why she is in every respect so different
from my tutor, for I have discovered something in
him that speaks without language, and I can as
easily tell that he is a servant of God, as, blindfolded,
I should know that an orange tree is before me from
its fragrance.

But I have other memories of that old house.
There is the hall, or large sitting-room, with its
high-backed uncomfortable sofa, nothing like owrs.
The windows with their dark framework of maho-

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4 REMEMBRANCES OF

gany, and the heavy doors looking as if they required
the united strength of the family to open them.
There was the unceiled roof; and the walls, which
went no farther than they could go in an upright
position, seemed to be giving us all a lesson to stop
in the plans we were pursuing, if we found that by
continuing in any of them we should be compelled to
act crookedly. The sideboard which has long been
stationed at the end of this general sitting-room,
with its ugly black faces, the large nose-rings in
which constitute the handles of the drawers.

It is early morning. Rutland, the boy groom,
brings our horses to the door; my pony Dapper is
impatient for its little master, and frolics and paws
till we set off. Mr. Maple always begins the day
with a cheering word of kindness, and these are as
dew to the youthful spirit. Off we go, cantering
pleasantly down to the sea-shore. I had very
seriously offended my Aunt Davis the evening
before; she had actually left the room in indigna-
tion, muttering something about the inconsistency of
those who professed to be Christians not keeping
children under proper control, and I thought she
looked at Mr. Maple when she said this, and I thought
he colored, but I am sure he must have had good
reasons for not interfering in this matter. My
aunt’s religion had ever seemed to me something not
CHILDHOOD. 5

real; it was the imitation dress, looking very like
that which it copies to a careless eye, but quite
unable to stand the wear and tear of temptation, or
the waters of trial, should they roll over it. And
this said dress never appeared to greater disadvan-
tage than when, as on the present occasion, it came
in contact with the mantle of humility which Mr.
Maple ever wore. Aunt Davis has an assured man-
ner, aud the very position of her head, though she
may be silent, seems to tell you that whatever may
be the failings of her associates, she cannot be very
far in the wrong.

Young as I am, I can discover this, and I take a
delight in teazing her.

Had Mr. Maple, on the morning of which I speak,
angrily commanded me to apologize to my aunt, I
think I should stubbornly have opposed his direc-
tions. But to resist Mr. Maple was impossible.
He had a way of winding himself round your affec-
tions, and such a convincing power in argument,
which, however, was always maintained with the
greatest gentleness, that you were borne on to his
way of thinking by the current of his remonstrances,
forcibly, yet almost imperceptibly. J have never
since, on life’s journey, met with any one exactly
like him, and I do not think this was merely a
childish estimate of his character.
6 REMEMBRANCES OF

Long before the ride is over, I am anxious to be
reconciled to my aunt. Immediately on my return
home I fly to her bedroom, and seck her forgiveness ;
she speaks kindly, says something about her willing-
ness to endure, and then bids me call Bunchy to
get her chocolate, with its accompaniment of salt
fish, for aunt Davis always breakfasts in her room.
I think I see her now, with her thick cap, round
which a handkerchief is tied after the manner of the
negroes, her full petticoat, and her short white dress-
ing-gown, for you must recollect I am speaking of
many years ago. She was much older than my
mother, and, according to her own account, every-
thing had gone wrong with her from the commence-
ment of her pilgrimage. She had married, but had
been long separated from her husband, and though
my dear mother always carefully avoided any allusion
to my uncle, yet I often heard aunt Davis giving
admonitions to my pretty cousin Annie to remain in
single happiness.

Sometimes Annie would look archly at her, at
other times she would blush so painfully that I have .
playfully covered her face with her own little black
apron. What a sunbeam that dear girl was to us
all. Iam sure that aunt Davis found happiness in
the effort to be unhappy, or rather, I should say, it
was a great source of consolation to her if she suc-
CHILDHOOD. 7

ceeded in impressing any one with the idea that she
endured a sort of domestic martyrdom, and was un-
fortunately out of the station it would so have suited
her to fill. She was thoroughly uncomfortable when
all went on smoothly. She would begin the day by
complaining to my mother that the household
arrangements did not suit her. “If I managed
these things, Mary,’’ she would say, ‘all would be
right.” And when my poor mother, in creole list-
lessness, would answer, ‘ Well, Dinah, you are
quite at liberty to do so,” my aunt would assume
the air of no. ordinary sufferer, and reply, ‘ No,
sister; it is not my house; Jam not mistress—only
a visitor!” as if it were my mother’s fault that such
were the case, and then she would swing her foot
vehemently, in that peculiar way which only West
Indians can understand, and wipe her eyes, (in which
I Well remember there were no tears at all) with a
white cambric pocket handkerchief.

My poor aunt was only truly sad when she could
find no listeners. I have known her tell a half-
civilized African, who scarcely understood a word of
English, a whole tale of grievances. I think the
sound of her own voice must at such times have
been soothing to her, for even when she was walking
alone in the piazza, I have caught the dissatisfied
8 REMEMBRANCES OF ee

tone, and heard the murmur, ‘“ Not mistress, only
visitor,” &c.

I cannot say my mother was idle, for she was
continually plying her needle. How could she
always find employment! There was an oval
basket full of stockings ever at her side; these, half
reclining on the uncomfortable couch, she would go
on darn, darn, darn, for hours. Once, when T asked
her what she thought of whilst thus employed?
‘¢ Literally nothing, sometimes,” she answered; and
then I was lost in contemplation, trying to discover
if the mind could ever be unemployed.

This would have been a monotonous life for me,
had it not been for Mr. Maple and dear, laughter-
loving Annie, who continually spent a week or a
fortnight with us.

My Father I could not remember. He died when
I was an infant, and it was 4 heavenly hand that
led Mr. Maple to be my tutor. With him it was
line upon line, and precept upon precept, here a
little and there a little. The morning ride, the
evening drive, all were made lessons by him to lead
my young heart to sts Creator. I knew, child as I
was, that there were times when Mr. Maple loved
his Redeemer with joy unspeakable. I well knew
that, though many deridingly called him “ saint,”
CHILDHOOD. 9

mistaking, or rather trying to make others believe
that they mistook his calm and quiet manner for
hypocrisy, that all was read with him, and, though
apparently so thoughtless, I had discovered that
peace such as the world giveth not was his portion.

Children think much more than we imagine, and
very often when I sat with my Latin Grammar in
my hand, I was clearly tracing to myself the diffe-
rence between the reality of religion and its pro-
fession, and though I whispered the grammatical
examples to myself, in exact measure with the
chiming waves, the living examples of my theory
were Mr. Maple and aunt Davis.

I remember well a sharp attack of fever that I
had. My dear, dear, mother! All her languor and
listlessness forsook her, and she was immediately
transformed into the unwearying, gentle, yet active
nurse. The dingy room opens on the back piazza;
the large four-posted bedstead, in which I seem
small indeed; the high-backed dimity-covered chair,
- where my mother sits, with her anxious sorrowful
face. My cheeks are burning, my lips are parched,
I hear the hurried beating of my heart, the doctor
looks grave; I cannot lie in any position comfortably,
every part of my body is in pain. Then dreams
come—half-waking dreams: there is danger, and
my great desire is to have Mr. Maple near me. Do
10 REMEMBRANCES OF

I dream it, or does he tell me, there is One greater
than he, able and willing to save to the uttermost all
who come unto God through him. I try to look
away from my fears to Jesus, and calmer visions steal
over me, and again I fancy my dear tutor gently
says, ‘I will strengthen thee, yea, I will help thee,
yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my
righteousness.”

I think I must have slept for more than a day,
for when I opened my eyes the grey light of morning
was stealing into the room. My mother had fallen
asleep at my side; she was still holding the large
Spanish fan with which she had been endeavouring
to keep the mosquitoes from me, and, with the
deepening light, I saw that traces of tears were on
her pale cheeks.

I must have been a child of a contemplative turn
of mind, for even then I was musing on the depths
of a mother’s love. Why had aunt Davis gone
calmly to bed? why was my old nurse sleeping
comfortably in her corner, whilst my mother had
evidently not taken off her dress for many days?
And even then my childish heart made answer,
“There is in all this cold and hollow world no fount
of love so deep as that which springs within a
mother’s heart.’

The light seemed very slow in coming that morn-
CHILDHOOD. 11

ing; it could not be weary, for my young thoughts
had given it a night of rest. I could just see, as I
lay, the mountain tops in the distance, and there the
lazy dawn seemed to linger, dressing their summits
in all sorts of grotesque shadows. At length a sud-
den beam of golden light flares on the old-fashioned
mirror, till it seems on flame ; then, as if in a merry
mood, the laughing sunbeam settles for a moment on
the earrings of my sleeping nurse, the next instant
it was coiling round the half-empty medicine bottles,
transforming a dingy looking mixture into a bright
rose-coloured draught. How long I should have
watched its gambols I know not, but just at that mo-
ment my mother (awakened by the negroes who were
passing under our windows on their way to work,
merrily singing wild snatches of African song) hastened
to give me some nourishment. I think I must have
slept again, for the next thing I remember is a
strong sensation of hunger, and the chicken and
jelly of which by turns I ravenously partook. Mr.
Maple prays with me, and in that solemn thanks-
giving I feel that my mother is earnestly joining. I
had never seen her so moved before, and during that
day, whilst I was lying with my eyes shut, I was
much struck by the humble way in which she
applied to Mr. Maple for instruction concerning
some passages from my old brown Bible, which she
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12 REMEMBRANCES OF

had been attentively reading. I could not, at that
time, have put my thoughts in words, but I am sure
I was reflecting in my childish way, how anxiety
and trial were used as messengers to bring us to
God.

My memory presents very faithfully to me aunt
Davis, as she walks in and out of my room, taking
up the watch and putting it down again, opening
the Venetians and closing them rapidly when she
found how painfully the sudden light affected me ;
beginning many sentences and leaving all unfinished ;
giving orders to the nurse in a clear loud whisper,
you might have heard at the other end of the house,
and which orders my nurse knew, from long expe-
rience, it would be useless to tell her had been
before given by my mother. Poor aunt Davis!
Then she bustles out of the room, with a startling
“Hush!” to the girl who is very quietly and lazily
rubbing the floor, convinced, I am quite certain,
that her excessive vigilance, and the quiet she has
kept in the establishment, although she is not mis-
tress, but only a visitor, has preserved my life. I
know, by all these signs, that I must be progressing
in health, for I will do my aunt the justice to say,
that whilst I was considered in any danger, real
concern for me kept her in the background. I think,
however, that she comes forward now with increased
CHILDHOOD. 13

energy, refreshed and strengthened by the relaxation
she has had. ‘‘ Mary,” she says, as she makes the
sixth forenoon entry into my devoted bedchamber,
“Tf I were you, I would do what Dr. Parry advised,
and write on the slate all the medicines that were to
be given.” ‘Charlie is only taking bark at pre-
sent,” replies my mother, with a great effort at
composure.

I always fancied my aunt breathed louder than
any one else, and as she places her hand heavily on
my forehead I feign sleep, and would have persevered
in this deception had I not been forced to open my
eyes by the sudden gripe she gives my wrist as she
proceeds to feel my pulse. ,

“Mamma,” I said, restlessly and pettishly, for I
was beginning to be weary of the confinement of
that dark chamber, ‘‘ Mamma, may I have my
paint-box if I am better to-morrow ”’

I cannot forget the expression of my aunt’s face
when I made this request. It was angry, and
solemn, and disdainful. ‘You are still on the
very threshold of eternity,” she said, and I fancied
she anxiously looked for some expression of alarm on
my countenance, and that being disappointed, she
went on more gently to add, “ and it grieves me to
find that your mind still runs on trifles such as these.
There is inflammation about you at this moment.

p 2
14 REMEMBRANCES OF

Indeed, Mary,” she continued, turning to my mother,
“he must not have bark.”’ And all this conversation
was carried on with a rapidity of which none but
those who knew aunt Davis could form any idea.
She spoke of my attack of fever as her sorrow, her
affliction ; my mother’s uneasiness, my own discomfort,
never once came into the mental calculation in which
self was always prominent. ‘These trials are for my
good,” she would say. ‘‘ We cannot expect to go
on smoothly in this world;” and she certainly was
a striking exemplification of her own assertion, for
she trampled down fee flowers on her path, and then
murmured that her way was cheerless. I have
never been able to find out why she was always in
such distress. I remember on this occasion, when
my mother persisted in giving me the bark, which
she affirmed to be really necessary, the conversation
ended by my aunt assuring me, that she was not fhe
mistress of the house, only a visitor, and when she
left the room her cough had the peculiar tone which
I knew meant ‘‘ Never mind; I can bear it!”
“Mamma,” I said, as my aunt’s murmurings grew
faint in the distant piazza, ‘“‘I do wish aunt Davis
were not a Christian.” My mother expressed her
surprise at the uncharitable feeling I had expressed.
‘‘ It suits her so badly to be religious,” I continued.
“We all have faults, Charlie,” said my mother
CHILDHOOD. 15

soothingly, ‘‘ and I suppose your aunt finds it diffi-
cult all at once to become amiable, but I must con-
fess I know little of these matters,” and she sighed
deeply.

My dear mother! She might indeed have doubted
the reality of that piety which so entirely left out of
‘ts code the charity that is not easily provoked.
She might have said, “‘ By their fruits ye shall know
them. Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of
thistles ?”’

Mr. Maple had quietly entered during this conver-
sation. Taking his seat at the foot of my bed, he
looked at me thoughtfully for a moment, and then
said, ‘‘ When there is no earnest, secret cry to the
Mighty One for aid in the hour of temptation, when
there is no effort in the strength of the great High
Priest to resist the besetting sin, we have every
reason to fear that we have not entered on the con-
flict of the Christian life; but, my dear Charlie,” he
said, looking tenderly at me, “ you will find plenty
of work to do within your own heart without
making it your employment to discover the sins of
those around you. The same spirit that tells us to put
away strife, enjoins us to be pitiful and to hope all
things.’”’ And there was, as I have before observed,
something so convincing in all this holy man said,
that by the time my aunt again made her appearance,

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16 REMEMBRANCES OF

I am sure I greeted her with one of my sweetest
smiles.

Then I have other recollections of this time of
childhood.

The hot months we generally spent at one of our
mountain estates, named Mount Orchard. I was
always very happy there. It might have been that
the cooler air in a measure refreshed me: this cer-
tainly was the case, but Annie, joyous Annie, was
the living spirit of our happiness. Oh, what a con-
trast there was at our little dinner-table—Aunt
Davis sitting on one side, and Annie opposite to
her. I have often wondered that no visible rainbow
appeared, for it certainly was sunlight shining on
cloud, and a rainy cloud, too, for the least contradic-
tion would sometimes cause Aunt Davis, in a sort of
childish petulance, to shed tears.

Annie always accompanied us in our morning
rides, and her gladness of heart seemed to Mr.
Maple as a reviving cordial. It was not levity, but
a grateful, thankful feeling that was within her
spirit, as a perennial spring running over and making
all glad within its invigorating influence. It is quite
impossible to give you any idea of the brilliant
expression that lighted up her eye when Mr. Maple
spoke of the love of God in Christ. It seemed to
tell you that she had tasted the Lord was gracious.
CHILDHOOD. 17

The very expression of her face said, as plainly as
words could say, “It is a good thing to give thanks
unto the Lord.” In very early life she had been
satisfied with His mercy, and therefore she rejoiced
and was glad all her days.

That wild mountain scenery is still vividly before
me. The intensity ef solitude pervades all around.
One or two stars still linger on the sky, but the
shadows flee away before the gradually advancing
morning. Now there is high rock land on each side
of our path, and before us are the everlasting hills.
How solemn sounds Mr. Maple’s voice as he says,—
“The mountains may depart, and the hills be
removed, but my kindness shall not depart from
thee, neither shall the covenant of my peace be
removed, saith the Lord, that hath mercy on thee.”’
Then again we are in more open country, and we
look on the distant sea, far, far below us. I seem
at this moment to hear the whispering wood sounds
around—the mysterious voice of the forest.

The red morning is steeping the east in crimson,
but though solemnized and subdued in spirit by the
magnificent scenery, my thoughts are neither with
wave nor sky.

“Of what are you thinking, Charlie?” kindly
asks Mr. Maple.

I start as if roused from a dream; and no wonder
18 REMEMBRANCES OF

my tutor makes this inquiry, for I feel that tears are
in my eyes. I could not, indeed, fathom my own
feelings, but of this I am certain, that as we paused
there, looking down on the far-spreading mountain
land below us, and the distant ocean, I had a strong
boding that sorrow was silently spreading its wings
over our home happiness. This was not super-
stition ; it was merely that feeling of insecurity that
sometimes forces its way into the heart when we are
resting on any earthly prop of comfort.

Just at this moment suddenly above the ame
crested mountains, rises the glorious sun—

Not, as in northern climes, obscurely bright,
But one unclouded blaze of living light.

It is true, there were clouds all around, but clouds
so refulgent in the glorious beaming, that they but
added to the grandeur and beauty of the scene. The
effect was beyond all description. The deep glades
were rejoicing in the sunbeams freely scattered over
them, whilst the luxuriant foliage immediately
around us, and palms and ferns in myriads wore
dew-drops as pearl gems in which to welcome the
morning. The arid plains in the distant lowlands
seemed to bear some part in the universal gladness,
and to smile in the rejoicing light, whilst the far
CHILDHOOD. 19

mountains had woven of the new-born rays a vest-
ment of rose and purple.

“Thus,” said Mr. Maple to Annie, “‘ does the Sun
of Righteousness arise with healing on his wings,
enlightening the dark heart of man, and making
lovely even the desert waste of life. The sun-
gvemmed clouds are emblems of the sorrowful heart
that reflects the image of its Master, the light afflic-
tion is almost forgotten in the radiance of the love
that encircles him; the dew-drop becomes the glis-
tening gem, the night of weeping lends new beauties
to the glories of the morning. I am already preach-
ing a sermon,” he smilingly said. Then the sudden
gun was distinctly heard, as if its tone were neces-
sary to proclaim that the sun had risen !

We had already lingered longer than usual on our
morning excursion, and pleasantly we cantered home.
At this moment I seem to hear the musical tone of
my cousin’s laughter. Oh! why did sorrow ever
darken those happy hours? But the shadows have
passed away. Dearest Annie! with gladness and
rejoicing she has entered into the King’s palace. I
am, however, running on too fast with my tale.

During lesson hours what childish stratagems I
employed to detain Annie in the portico which we
used as school-room. On her way from her bed-
20 REMEMBRANCES OF

room to the hall she was obliged to pass through
this our little study. Sometimes I would entreat
her to see if my sum were all right. Mr. Maple
would at first make an effort to be particularly
engaged, but he would suddenly discover that we
were both at fault in our arithmetical calculations,
and then some favourite author would be discussed.
Oh, what a happy little listener I was!

I am sure that children often receive more in-
struction in this way than from a regular lesson.

Annie’s parents were living in Kingston, and it
was to escape from the gaiety and dissipation there
that she so often visited her friends in the country.
She was sought after and much admired, for indeed
she was exceedingly lovely, but with those who
were of the world she felt no congeniality. No
marvel, then, that a strong attachment should
spring up between my beloved tutor and the thank-
ful confiding Annie.

I do not know which of the two claimed the
largest share of my childish admiration—Annie,
with her soft intelligent eyes, and heavenly smile—
for at times it certainly was illuminated by the
Christian’s hope, or Mr. Maple, with his pale, kind,
grave face and earnest look. I believe I respected
my tutor more than any other being on earth, and I
CHILDHOOD. 21

am convinced that had I not discovered how Annie
prized and valued him, she would not have been
half so dear to me.

About this time, too, aunt Davis was an unwearied
intruder into our little room. Oh, how patiently
Mr. Maple bore her incursions! Sometimes she
would actually take his place on the couch, and
remonstrate with him concerning a certain stoop
which she declared I had, but which, I believe, was
visible to no one else. Standing against the wall
she proposed as a remedy for this defect, and because
Mr. Maple, busy over my delectus, does not imme-
diately attend to her suggestion, she stalks out of the
room, coughing portentously, and saying, “‘ If I were
mistress of the house——I am only a visitor,” was
breathed forth to the empty piazza.

There was a deep sort of ravine immediately below
the mountain on which our house was situated,
where many large mango trees clustered, laden with
their golden fruit ; Avocado pear trees were thickly
interspersed amongst them, and star apples hung
in clusters from their own dark boughs.

We were all fond of mangoes. This is quite a
creole taste, for the English have, in general, a par-
ticular aversion to this fruit. If I missed Annie in
the evening, I was sure to find her—naughty girl!—
committing depredations amongst the mango trees.
22 REMEMBRANCES OF

One afternoon, I particularly remember, I was
bounding down the green hill towards her, when I
observed her in quiet yet earnest conversation with
Mr. Maple. Yes, it is clearly present to me still,
though many years have passed away since that
time, and the fretful and the happy, the earnest and
the sorrowful—all, all have laid them down, and the
clods of the valley cover them ; their love and their
hatred, their joy and their sorrow, is perished with
them. I only am left of all that mountain party,
and I believe in my breast alone remains any remem-
brance of anything that they did under the sun.
But, as I was saying, I remember everything con-
eerning that evening. The sky wore that look of
softness peculiar to it after a heavy morning rain.
The sunset’s gold was paler than usual, and there
was the deepest purple but little crimson on the
western horizon. Have you ever noticed a child
called from weeping to join in sudden mirth? Some-
thing that is not sadness, yet very nearly allied to it,
rests on that child’s face, and we see the tear on the
cheek, whilst laughter echoes from the lips. On
this evening nature wore just such a face. The
rain-drops were heavy on the leaves that sparkled in
the merry sunlight; the jasmius were absolutely
flinging away their fragrance, as if they did not
know what to do with it—they gave it to the breeze,
CHILDHOOD. 23

and the breeze bore it on to the distant woodland,
all down to the river-side. The wild senna trees,
too, how their lovely blossoms tossed the sparkling
rain-drops from them, like the scornful beauty throw-
ing disdainfully from her human affection. The fog
was beginning to rise. I believe this early life
amidst such scenery tinged my thoughts even then
with romance, for I remember thinking how deli-
cately beautiful was the silvery mist, as it fantasti-
cally dressed the mountains in its own airy lightness.
As I sit quietly on the bank watching all this, those
words, ‘‘ What is your life? it is even as a vapour r
keep chiming on my thoughts.

There is something so serious in my tutor’s man-
ner, and so unusually grave in Annie’s way of listen-
ing to what he says, that I do not like to interrupt
them. There stands Annie, in her white dress and
purple velvet shawl, that she was accustomed to
throw over her shoulders in the evening, with the
very look that she always wore when I spoke of my
tutor as being superior to any one else. Her happy
face was as a window, letting in the rays of hope and
summer light on the more thoughtfully moulded
mind of my tutor.

He had been lately ordained, and, I knew, was
ere long, to hold a living in the northern part of the
island.

E
24 REMEMBRANCES OF

As I am thus musingly sitting on my quiet bank,
I hear voices in the little portico which is just above
us:

‘There, Mary,” said my aunt Davis to my mother,
‘look at Annie and Mr. Maple—there is certainly
too much profession about that man.”

Oh, how my little heart beat with indignation.

‘My motto is,” continued my aunt, “ ‘let all
things be done decently and in order.’ I ask you, is
that correct ?”’

‘‘ Dinah,” replied my mother, in her slow gentle
way, ‘we must not blame Mr. Maple if he have
become attached to our sweet Annie.”

My aunt then said a great deal in a querulous
tone, which I did not hear, but how plainly I did
hear the stately tread and the ominous cough; and
‘Not mistress of the house, only visitor,’ died on
my ear as the land-breeze came down from the moun-
tains, just the same then as it does now, whispering,
whispering on, as if with love and sorrow, change
and death, it had some mysterious connexion, and
passing on before us we knew not whither.

That evening Annie had a long conversation in
the back piazza with my mother, and it was decided
that my cousin was to return to Kingston, early in
the next week. We all missed her sadly. Even
Aunt Davis had the manner of one looking about for
CHILDHOOD. 25

something she could not find, and Mr. Maple was un-
able to conceal his anxiety for the arrival of the post.
Well, several weeks passed, during which time my
mother was making arrangements for my return to
England. Mr. Maple became very sad, and aunt
Davis more fidgety than ever. )

I remember I well knew, though indeed I can-
not tell how, that my dear mother was advancing
in the Christian life, and I once overheard her say to
Mr. Maple, “‘ I was not sorrowful, but there was a
yearning in my heart for something I could not find,
my soul was unsatisfied; now I think, in some
degree, I do turn to my Saviour, and he never sends
me empty away—what love to one 80 undeserving !”
Indeed, my mother seemed altogether changed.
There was continually a placid smile on her counte-
nance; the letting out, as it were, of the peace
within; and it remained steadfast, too, that tranquil
look, even under a shower of sharp words from my
aunt, as if kept there by an invisible hand.

Mr. Maple is graver than ever. His bible, if
possible, is more continually his study.

We return to the Lowlands, and many more quiet
weeks roll on. The sea chimes regularly as ever.
My lessons are continued, and then my mother goes
to town, and returns in triumph with Annie. I

E 2
26 REMEMBRANCES OF

think the sunlight of her glance was dimmed, or
rather, I should say, softened, for her countenance
had lost none of its beautiful expression, and I felt,
from the cheerful tone in which she welcomed me,
that hope was strong within her.

Mr. Maple and Annie sat together all that even-
ing, and whilst my mother looked as if she had some
new source of enjoyment, aunt Davis became so un-
comfortable because no one was noticing her, that
after coughing ineffectually for some time, to draw
from us exclamations of pity, she called ‘‘ Bunchy,”
and retired to her bedroom. Yet there she could
not remain. She returned twice to tell us there
would surely be an earthquake, and I overheard
Annie whisper to Mr. Maple, ‘“‘I wonder she does
not say, ‘If I were mistress of the house, no such
convulsion of nature should disturb us.’” Mr.
Maple looked at her for a moment, as if inclined to
say something in reproof, but that smile conquered,
and he only looked gravely, and I fancied somewhat
pitifully at her.

It was at this time that I observed a peculiar
expression about my tutor’s face. A superstitious
person would have said it told he was not long for
this world. It was a look which plainly showed
that his spirit at times rose on the wings of a realising
CHILDHOOD. 27

faith, far above earth and its anxieties, aye, and
its affections, too, to be where Christ sitteth at the
right hand of God.

I surmised that all was right again, and wishing
to show that I had some knowledge of the state of
things, I plucked some of our school-room orange-
blossoms, and pushed them amongst Annie’s long
fair curls.

She kissed me affectionately, and asked me the
next morning if I would promise to be at her wed-
ding? Oh how delighted I was! I skipped about
the old room in my glee, and told Annie, with an air
of great sagacity, that it would be no common hap-
piness always to be with Mr. Maple.

But enough of all this. Aunt Davis continued to
find a thousand cases in which if she were mistress
of the house, and not only a visitor, things would
go on much better—truly, if she had ruled, the
bridal day would never have arrived.

How carefully I dressed on that eventful morning.
I tied my dark blue neckerchief, I have no doubt,
with consummate skill, and my jacket was as glossy
as my shining locks.

Well, mamma and aunt Davis went in the large
carriage, whilst I sat, full of importance, by dear
Annie’s side in the pheton. Mr. Maple was to
meet us at the church.

E 3
28 REMEMBRANCES OF

The sun rose that morning on the cloudless sky as
if care had nothing to do with life; as if sorrow
never even looked on human affection.

How well I recollect Annie’s pale face as she en-
tered the church! I thought she had forgotten her
smile, but no—she looked timidly at Mr. Maple, and
there it was, although subdued and chastened by
trembling and fear, those handmaids on every
approach to earthly happiness.

Annie’s parents were both present at the wedding.
I cannot tell why, but I was impressed with the
idea that they had reluctantly consented to this
marriage. |

The church is still before me: a low, barn-like
looking place. At the altar rails, which are newly
built of cedar, they are kneeling side by side, Mr.
Maple and Annie.

The feeling of Annie’s good fortune in being united
to Mr. Maple was uppermost in my mind. Dear
girl, much as I loved her, the idea of his happiness in
possessing such a treasure never once occurred to me.

Now Mr. Maple’s face wears the expression of
which I have before spoken, and for a moment or
two, even at this time, he seems to be far away
from the world, from its love, its sorrow, and all
belonging to it. Then I hear the low “ Amen,”
and the service is over.
CHILDHOOD. . 29

This time, my seat is by aunt Davis, for Mr.
Maple and Annie drive on together in the pheeton.
Aunt Davis troubles me sadly by pinning up her
gown, that it might not be injured by the dust, for
it was the very dress she had worn at my mother’s
wedding, and, as I saucily observed, she might one
day wear at mine. I am commissioned to hold
sundry small pins whilst she is thus occupied, and
then I am to carry her brown holland bag, and
carefully, too, for it contains a bottle of eau de Cologne
and a small phial of red lavender ; this latter was a
cordial which my aunt found necessary on all exciting
occasions. She will not allow me quietly to follow
the train of those mournful thoughts which neces-
sarily belong to a wedding, inasmuch as it is almost
always connected with some painful separation.

“Take care, Charlie, the bottles are striking
together,” she exclaims. ‘‘Of what are you think-
ing, Charlie ?—the umbrella is in my eye!” for
although there had been no rain for some time, we
were obliged to use umbrellas as shields against the
dress-destroying dust.

Right glad was I when we were once more in the
pleasant shade of the large hall.

It was a cheerful party, that second breakfast. I
tried hard to forget that Mr. Maple was never more
to be my tutor; that our pleasant mornings in the
30 . REMEMBRANCES OF

little library were henceforth to be but a remem-
brance. Even aunt Davis, in the sober cheerfulness
of that bridal party, seemed to forget that she was
but a visitor. Only once I heard her say, “If I
were mistress, these things should not be,” but I
believe, from long habit, that the sentence escaped
her involuntarily—there was no angry emphasis in
the words on this happy day.

The negroes were vociferous on this occasion.
What they had to do with the matter I cannot tell,
and I do not think they exactly knew themselves,
but wine and silver threepences—a coin current in
Jamaica—were freely given to them, and they felt
bound in gratitude to express their thanks as noisily
as possible.

The luncheon is over; Annie retires to exchange
her bridal for a travelling dress. She pauses at the
door, and with bright sparkling happiness gleaming
on her sweet young face,

‘‘ Charlie,” she says, as she stoops and kisses my
forehead, ‘‘ the lines have fallen unto me in pleasant
places—my cup runneth over.”

In the listlessness of heart which was already
beginning to follow the unusual excitement I had
undergone, I stroll in the piazza, afraid even to look
at the door of our little study. Who gallops down
the long avenue? I recognise him by his beautiful
CHILDHOOD. 31

black horse. It is Arthur Lochane. He is too late
for the wedding, but he may yet see Annie, whom
he has not met for years. He may yet wish her
happiness as the bride of another who was once the
starlight of his boyhood. So unselfish is his affection,
that with genuine sincerity he grasps Mr. Maple’s
hand, and congratulates him on the prize he has
won.

A keen observer might have perceived something
like agitation in Arthur’s manner, but it soon passes
away, and he is composed as ever as he stands by
Mr. Maple, who is admiring the glossy coat of the
spirited black horse. How elegant is the curve of
its arched neck, as, impatient of restraint, it paws
the ground.

Arthur is very fond of his horse, and he draws

Mr. Maple’s attention to the good expression of its
eye.
Whilst they are thus engaged, my pet fawn
makes its escape, and bounding immediately before
the noble animal, causes it to rear and turn round, so
that its fore legs come in sudden and violent contact
with Mr. Maple’s chest.

He sank on the steps, whilst the blood streamed
from his mouth.

Annie, who saw the accident from the window,
32 REMEMBRANCES OF

hastens towards him, and the deep crimson stain
covers her loosened bridal robe.

There are some sudden woes that do the work of
years in a morning !

How was that fair girl altered! ‘‘ As a tempest
of rain and a destroying storm, as a flood of mighty
waters overwhelming,” had that sorrow come upon
her.

Mr. Maple had fainted, and it was with much
difficulty that we conveyed him to the sofa in the
dear study where we had spent many happy hours.

What a meeting for Arthur! Annie was 60
absorbed in the intensity of anguish, that she did not
seem to know he was present. She neither spoke,
nor wept, nor sighed. All the strength of her grief
was concentrated in the earnest, unmoved gaze
that she kept fixed on Mr. Maple’s pallid face.

He slowly opens his eyes, and they rest on
Annie. Oh, the unutterable tenderness of his
loving look! He was too much exhausted to speak,
but I know had he been able to express himself at
that moment, he would have said to the —
girl,—

‘¢ Be strong, fear not; I, the Lord, am with thee
—I, the God of Israel, will not forsake thee.”

The negroes expressed their sympathy by groans
CHILDHOOD. 33

and lamentations of the most terrible and uncouth
nature. Annie was almost maddened by the turmoil,
and we could, neither by threats nor persuasions,
induce them to be quiet.

It was two hours before the doctor arrived. Mr.
Maple was removed into his bedroom, and the
sorrowful bride becomes the tender and loving
nurse.

I shall never, through life, forget the sudden
change from that day of feasting to the house of
mourning. We could scarcely realize it. There
had been no anticipated sorrow—no twilight to
prepare us for the unexpected darkness. The mid-
night of anguish had come in, as it were, on the
day, and put out the rejoicing sun.

And then it was peculiarly trying to see Annie
wrapped in the dark garb of sadness.

There are some methodical characters, so sober
even in happiness, that when affliction settles on
them, its inroads are, at all events, for some little time,
scarcely perceptible. But Annie! our sunbeam—our
morning: Annie—the echo of whose silvery laughter
ran through our long halls; whose smile left glad-
ness with the sorrowful, and whose very tone en-
couraged the despondent—to see her moving noise-
lessly about, with silence on her lips and sorrow on
her brow, this was grief indeed. ~
34 REMEMBRANCES OF

I was sometimes admitted into my loved tutor’s
room.

Dear Mr. Maple; there was the expression of which
I have before spoken, stronger and plainer than ever ;
and, child as 1 was, I knew, that though fondly
affectionate towards Annie, his soul was longing to
be with him, whom having not seen, he loved.

Arthur soon left us. He could have witnessed
Annie’s happiness, but he could not endure to see
her sorrow.

I have still an indistinct recollection of dreary
days—that little forsaken library haunts me yet. I
had no lessons to learn. There I sat, trying to make
the loud ticking of the old clock keep time with the
music of the waves.

At length there was a whispering in the house,
and then Jamba, the cook, and Prince, the butler,
literally began to howl. Dr. Parry came out, and
for a time commanded silence; but my bedroom was
prepared for Annie, and then I knew that all was
over—my beloved tutor was never more to meet me
in our pleasant study. Annie’s life in its morning
was darkened, for he had gone home. ‘This was the
way in which she first touchingly mentioned her
sorrow to me.

I remember a low grave under a spreading sand-
box-tree, with my tutor’s name on the rough stone.
CHILDHOOD. 35

Aunt Davis grew much more amiable after this
sad event. Ido not recollect ever again hearing her
say that she was only a visitor, though once or twice
she told me, with real humility, that she felt she
was a stranger and a pilgrim upon earth.

She learnt at length to look beyond things seen
for happiness, and how wonderful was the change,
such indeed as might be deemed almost incredible by
those who know nothing of the satisfying and peace-
bestowing nature of true religion. The tone of
murmur was for ever hushed, nay was lost in the
sweet song of praise, so true it is that when, by the
Spirit of Adoption we are enabled to say, “‘ Father ;”
when we can view the smallest circumstances as
being controlled and ordered by Him who careth for
us, trivial discomforts cease any longer s0 to irritate
us; a ray from the better land has fallen on our
way, and seeing in the far distance the gates of the
Celestial City, we look upwards and forget the
thorns of those petty annoyances in anticipation of
the glory which shall be revealed.

My mother lived many years after Mr. Maple’s
death, growing in grace and in the knowledge of her
Lord and Saviour; but Annie, in the flush of her
youth, was called away, and I could not mourn for
her, but whenever I hear the whispering land
breeze, or the measured roll of the waves, I think of

r
36 REMEMBRANCES OF CHILDHOOD.

that happy room and my beloved tutor, and I try to
remember the laughter-loving Annie as she was
when untouched by sorrow. At all events, this
hope I have, that again our home circle will be
made complete in the land where Death and Woe
will have nothing more to do with earthly affection.
CHAPTER II.

Q@ Character—RLinny.



I never can forget Mr. Walker. He was an eccen-
tric being, and yet many such characters were, 1
believe, found from time to time, some years ago,
amongst the semi-civilized inhabitants of Jamaica’s
mountain land. |

My friend Mr. Campbell had just arrived from
England, and he sent mea pressing invitation to run
down to his estate for two or three days. I arrived
- in the afternoon, and I found he was expecting some
gentlemen to dine with him at seven o’clock.

We were talking over old times when, after a
little unusual bustle in the piazza, a negro boy ran
in, with a short driving whip in his hand, ‘and, with
a laugh in which I am sure all his very white teeth
joined, said, ‘‘ Massa, Buckra come,” and before we
had time to make any inquiries as to the name by

F 2
38 A CHARACTER.

which this buckra was distinguished from buckras
generally, a fine looking old gentleman walked into
the room, with loaded pistols in his hand, pointed
towards us. Mr. Campbell persuaded him to place
these on the table, and then introduced him to me as
Mr. Walker.

I cannot forget his wild look, his neglected hair,
his blue coat, with its large flat gilt buttons, his
white waistcoat, and untidily folded cravat. My
first feeling was that of astonishment that such an
uncouth being should not only be permitted as a |
guest, but actually welcomed as a friend. How
my heart afterwards condemned me for this thought.

I found he was continually haunted by the idea
that his life was sought by the negroes around him.
It was with great difficulty that Mr. Campbell had
obtained from him a promise to remain that evening,
for he seldom left home.

His manners were a strange mixture of eccentricity,
bordering on actual rudeness, and the polish of a
well-bred gentleman. He attached himself to me
throughout the evening, from a likeness which he
insisted that I bore to his son Tom.

There was something very melancholy in his con-
versation. It was the wreck of a great mind, and
by the really beautiful thoughts which momentarily
appeared on the surface, you were reminded how
A CHARACTER. 39

much was sunk in the wide sea of opportunities lost
and time mispent.

And then the restless unquiet of his eye was most
painful. If a servant came into the room, Mr.
Walker looked towards his pistols, as if he longed
again to have them in his possession; indeed, the
whole tone of his conversation was to convince us
that even the most harmless of our attendants were
lying in wait to kill him. I thought it must neces-
sarily be monomania, but Mr. Campbell assured me
that his friend’s mind was unimpaired: it was the
very secluded life which for more than fifty years he
had led that had given rise to these suspicions.

Throughout dinner I observed that he raised his
plate to his nose every time it was replenished, to
detect if poison had been put therein; and when he
retired to his bedroom, oh, what preparations of
defence were made against a midnight attack. A
sword was put across the foot of his bed, and a pair
of loaded pistols were carefully placed under his
pillow.

And then to see his travelling apparatus, as it
stood at the door the next morning. What a pic-
ture it would have made! There was a little old
gig, with very high wheels, to which two half-
starved horses were attached by ropes, tandem
fashion. The effect of all this was heightened by

F 3
40 A CHARACTER.

the air with which Mr. Walker gave orders to his
outriders, a couple of ragged boys on mules, to
‘keep ahead of him.”

« They would shoot me sn the back,” he knowingly
observed to me, ‘if allowed to lag behind.”

With the ease and assurance of an ‘‘ excellent
whip,” he took his seat on the old hassock which
served as cushion, and was turned upside down, that
the most presentable part might meet the public
eye, and in the style of a gentleman whose equip-
ments were first-rate, he waved us his adieux.

Oh, what a bustle there was, when he in reality
set off. The smallest outrider was left far behind,
and I saw Mr. Walker, when he turned round, in-
stinctively put his hand upon his pistol. The port-
manteau had almost slipped from the mule, and the
mule seemed determined to slip from its rider, for it
stood still and kicked, as if protesting vehemently
against associating too intimately with such a
master; then, as if it had suddenly changed its
mind, flew off with a speed which well nigh upset
“Smudge,” for such was the name of the little
stable-boy, raised on this occasion to the rank of
outrider.

Mr. Campbell proposed a visit to Mr. Walker the
following evening, and appeared much to enjoy my

surprise at his partiality for this uncouth being.
A CHARACTER. 41

During the drive, as might have been expected,
our conversation was principally of Mr. Walker,
when I asked if he had any ideas of religion ?

‘¢ All approach to serious conversation,” said Mr.
Campbell, ‘‘he connects by some mysterious associa-
tion of memory with his daughter Minny, who died
of fever some two or three years ago.

‘‘ His eldest child, now Mrs. Bartley, was as self-
willed and violent as her father. Hers was a run-
away match, and she had much difficulty to effect
her escape. This, however, she achieved by setting
the house on fire as she made her exit, and whilst
her father was entirely occupied in quelling the
flames, and in endeavouring to discover which of his
negroes had been the perpetrator of this act, she had
leisure, unmolested and unobserved, to accomplish
her escape.

“ Bella, the youngest daughter, is a wild creature ;
you will, I have no doubt, see her this evening.
She can use the currycomb to a horse, or saddle it,
and seems quite in her element when in the atmos-
phere of the stable.

‘‘ Minny sprang up between them, a delicate and
gentle being, fair as a lily, and painfully nervous
from the secluded life she led. Hers was indeed a
most interesting case. She found an old pocket
bible in a negro hut; she turned over its pages, and
42 A CHARACTER.

became so interested in their contents, that she pur-
chased the treasure, and returned home to read
throughout the night that sacred volume.

“ She told me that at this time she had never
even heard of the Gospel plan of salvation. She
knew that Jesus was the Son of God, but she was
altogether ignorant that through Him only she could
approach the Father.

‘¢God giveth His Holy Spirit to them that ask
him,’ she said; ‘I read the Blessed Saviour’s words
—‘‘ Whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name,
I will give it you,” and my instantaneous prayer
was, “Give me thy Holy Spirit for the sake of Jesus
Christ.’ Oh, how, in its beautiful freedom and sim-
plicity, the plan of salvation opened upon me ; whilst
the sufferings of the Son of God caused me to see the
exceeding sinfulness of sin; the fulness of the
redemption that was in Christ Jesus enabled me at
length to say, ‘‘ From Him cometh my salvation.” ’

“She had never met even with a professor of
religion till she became acquainted with me. She had
no technical terms, no peculiar mode of phraseology.
She had never been able to attend a place of public
worship, for there was not one for miles round, but
at the crimson fall of day the bamboos at the river
side had been witnesses of her earnest prayer, and,
amidst that disorderly and complaining household,
A CHARACTER. 43

she moved with gladness in her heart and peace in
her bosom.

‘Minny was far advanced in the Christian life,
but knew it not. Love to Him who had done so
much for her was the pervading feeling of her soul.
Her childlike confidence, her simple trust in her
Redeemer, so unmarred by doubt of any kind, spoke
in a reproving voice to many a far-famed Christian
of the present day.

‘¢ At one time, her father lost, through the failure
of a house in England, many thousand pounds, and
was, consequently, obliged to make a home of the
miserable abode in which you will find them this
evening.

‘‘T was with them at the time of their removal.
The house they had left was large and commodious,
though in a most desolate part of the country. Mr.
Walker was morose and severe; his wife was in
tears; Bella was murmuring and dispirited, whilst
Minny smilingly and quietly glided in and out
amongst them. Now she was tastefully arranging
some ornamental shells on the low table; then she
was affectionately whispering to her papa, ‘ We shall
soon make all comfortable,’ and pushing her small
white hands playfully through his silvery hair.

“<¢ Minny,’ I softly said, ‘how is it that you
alone are happy ?’
44 A CHARACTER.

««¢ Oh, you forget, Mr, Campbell,’ she said; and
then, lowering her voice to the softest tone, how
touchingly she added, ‘ “ Peace I leave with you ;
my peace I give unto you; not as the world giveth,
give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled,
neither let it be afraid.” ’

‘‘ The Bible alone had been her study. She had
never read any book on theology—commentaries she
had never heard of; the Word of God was the light
to her feet, and the lamp to her path, and the
entrance of those words had given understanding to
the simple. She had not received the spirit of
bondage, the language of adoption was hers, and she
cried ‘ Abba, Father!’

“Tam persuaded that nothing could have separated
her from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus
our Lord.

‘There she went on, from day to day, delighting
in the law of God, yet warring against the law of
her mind. And all this hidden life, this internal
conflict, she carried on alone—no, not alone, for the
Father loved her; the Lord looked down from
heaven on this precious one, and very often, in the
midst of that divided family, led her by the still
waters of heavenly consolation.

‘© What a changed creature she became ; changed
altogether in manner, for self had been in a great
A CHARACTER. 45

measure cast down, and goodwill towards man
flourished in its place. Changed, too, she was, even
in appearance, for the meekness of heavenly wisdom
shone in her smile, and you could see by her whole
deportment that the Refiner had been with her.

‘¢ Her sisters laughed at her; her mother forbad
her to mention in her presence the subject of religion;
only to her eccentric father did she dare occasionally
to speak of her inward source of happiness.

“Oh, how her heart of tendrils clung to the pro-
mises! She never said, ‘I have been reading this
new work,’ or ‘I have been told this or that,’ but,
‘n the beautiful simplicity of Scripture language, her
answer was ever ready.

« ¢ Do you not sometimes, Minny,’ I one day said,
wishing to try her, ‘do you not sometimes do things
that are right, from your own amiable disposition ?’

‘¢ ¢ Jesus Christ says,’ she answered, ‘ ‘ If a man
abide not in me, he is cast forth as a branch, and is
withered.” Once I, too, was fretful, continually
quarrelling with my sisters ; but this could not con-
tinue. Scarcely had I breathed the angry word,
when a voice seemed to whisper, “ This is my com-
mandment— that ye love one another, as I have
loved you.” Yet am I daily offending a forbearing
Father,’ she said, with a sorrowful look; ‘and did
He not receive where man would reject ; did he not
46 A CHARACTER.

pity when the world would scorn, and wait to be
gracious where a fellow sinner would repel, I know
not what would become of me. How truly he says
by his prophet, ‘‘ As the heavens are higher than the
earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and
my thoughts than your thoughts.” ’

‘‘T do not remember that she had ever before
spoken thus unreservedly to me, but she was carried
on by her heart’s fervour. Then suddenly she began
to apologize for the boldness with which she had
been giving me her opinion.

‘‘There was a striking peculiarity in this dear
child’s faith. We allow that Jesus is our friend,
that he careth for us, that he is ever touched with
the feeling of our infirmities, and we should be
startled if any one questioned our sincerity as regarded
these convictions; but I am certain that we do not,
as she did, take to our God the little daily dis-
quietudes of home, the ruffling annoyance, the
chafing care. We do not realize His presence, as
she did, about our path in the evening walk, about
our bed when the shades of night have closed around
us. Thus was she enabled, amidst many difficulties,
to go on her way rejoicing. She opened her mouth
wide and it was filled. She opened her heart and it
was satisfied with the fulness of God.

‘‘ She was almost uneducated, though, I should
A CHARACTER. 47

say, naturally clever, and in proportion as she became
+ mbued with the spirit of her Master did her very
language become improved. Seeking to follow His
example, she was pitiful and courteous, and in the
sincerity of true Christian unselfishness, became pos-
sessed of the germ of real politeness.

« As the small rain upon the tender herb had that
Word been to Minny.

‘Tn this case, man was not even used as an in-
strument. The Lord alone did lead her. He found
her in a waste howling wilderness ; he instructed
her, he kept her as the apple of his eye.

“Then she was suddenly attacked by fever. She
stood on the borders of the heavenly inheritance, and
looked back with longing, lingering love on her
white-haired father.

“T called, without even knowing of her illness,
and she begged to see me.

«“¢T might have been dreaming,’ these were the
words she addressed to me the very first moment I
made my appearance, ‘but this morning some one
stood by me all in white, and told me that my dear
papa would turn and repent. Do not, dear Mr.
Campbell, lose sight of him; remember that the
angels of God rejoice over one sinner that repenteth.’

‘‘T was so deeply affected, I could only bow my

G
48 A CHARACTER.

head in token of acquiescence. It was a touching
sight to see her lying on that little comfortless bed,
with the rude apparatus of arms and harness hanging
from the walls, her mother passively sitting by her,
and her father, for once forgetting that his life was
in danger, bending anxiously over her—yet he could
not stay her, she was going home! She had held
fast that she had, and no man could take her crown.
Already the tree of life was in sight, which is in
the midst of the paradise of God.

“ pered.

«© ¢ No,’ she solemnly answered ; ‘ our Great High
Priest who has passed into the heavens is waiting
there to receive me.’

‘‘ Love had triumphed, and had cast out fear.
All this language was in such strong contrast to the
tone of conversation prevalent in that family, that
the effect was impressive.

‘“T felt a longing that some of my Christian friends
in England could come and look on that dying bed.
I am persuaded they would have returned home
with a firm resolve to make the simple word of God
more constantly their study, they would have felt
their faith strengthened, and their pride of heart
subdued. They would have learnt at the bedside of
A CHARACTER. 49

that dear girl that we must be led by the Spirit of
God, even as a little child is led, if we would be the
sons of God.

“Twas unable to remain long with Minny. I
stooped down and kissed her cold forehead. She
had been silent and motionless so long that we
thought the coma, which is the last stage of yellow
fever, must have been stealing over her. I, however,
gently whispered, ‘ The peace of God, which passeth
all understanding, keep your heart and mind through
Christ Jesus.’

‘She opened her eyes, and distinctly said, ‘ He
hath clothed me with the garments of salvation.’

‘These were, I believe, her last words, she died
in the evening.

‘© T have since seen little of Mr. Walker, in con-
sequence of my recent visit to England, but you will
now understand why I was so anxious to introduce
him to you. You may remind him of his daughter’s
dying wish, but deal with him gently, he is a wild
being, almost ferocious, if approached unguardedly.”

Oh, how I blamed myself for having entertained
such hard thoughts of one to whom my Master might
be waiting to be gracious; how I prayed for wisdom
in the difficult task before me.

“There,” said my friend, “1s their humble
dwelling.”

Gg 2
50 A CHARACTER.

“That negro hut,” I exclaimed, “ impossible +7?

It was a low, barn-like house. The roof was in a
dilapidated condition, the shingles being completely
decayed, and the palmetto thatch only used in those
places where repair was absolutely necessary. The
Venetianed windows were broken in many parts,
and might perhaps once have been green, although
this is merely a supposition, as no trace of their
original colour remained.

The approach of our pheton was the signal for
some half-dozen starved dogs to make their appear-
ance; they seemed too low-spirited to bark. All
the cocks, too, began to crow vehemently, and the
wildest of wild black heads forced itself through a
broken part of the before-mentioned Venetian blinds.
Then there was a tittering and whispering, “ Him
bring ’trange buckra wid him, and him ’tand tall like
aloe.”* Then there was suppressed laughter again.

No one came to our assistance, but Mr. Campbell
was not in the least disconcerted, he was initiated in
these mysterious proceedings. Leaving his carriage,
he bade me follow him, and we unceremoniously
entered the dwelling. An uncomfortable perception
of smoke and spirit assailed me, and I found myself
at once in the presence of Mr. Walker.

* The negroes, it must be remembered, seldom articulate
the s or th. Buckra, white man.
A CHARACTER. 51

He was sitting, without coat or waistcoat, in a low
wooden chair, which he was pushing back in creole
style, whilst his shoeless feet had attained no slight
degree of eminence on the half-plastered wall. His
slippers kept their humble station on the ground
below. His hair was neglected, and his face un-
shorn. His collar was unbuttoned, and altogether
he was in such complete dishabille that I felt uneasy
at having thus intruded on him. I therefore kept
in the background, and began to murmur an apology.
His inimitable coolness of manner, however, in a
moment set me at rest.

Rising with real unembarrassed elegance to receive
us, although he did not even remember to put on
his slippers,—‘‘ Most happy to see you,” he said ;
‘‘pray be seated.”

I thought for a moment he was at a loss, as there
were no chairs in the room, with the exception of
the wooden one before mentioned, but this must have
been my fancy, for the next instant he had inverted —
two empty tamarind kegs, and thus supplied the
deficiency of these necessary articles of household
furniture.

Then he pressed on us refreshment, and would
take no refusal.

There wasa dried Yorkshire ham suspended by a
hook from a horizontal beam that traversed the upper

a 3
52 A CHARACTER.

part of the room. Mr. Walker took his dirk from
his side, and cut off several slices of this dried meat.
Then he called the good-natured looking girl who
had likened me to an aloe, to make preparations for
the cooking of our repast.

In a yard immediately beneath one of the windows,
and where Mr. Walker could overlook all culinary
proceedings, and detect any attempt at poison,
a square was made with four bricks, in which a fire
of wood was kindled, and in some apparatus of his
own manufacture the broiling of the ham commenced.
Then there was a sudden running and chasing in the
waste ground immediately in front of us, and I soon
perceived that one of the feathered tribe who had so
musically welcomed us was suffering martyrdom on
our account. He was being stoned to death, and I
believe it was our friend Smudge of the preceding
evening who dealt the fatal blow, if I may judge
from the triumph actually gleaming from his teeth.

A very thin old woman boiled the cocoas in a pan
given to her from our sitting room, by Mr. Walker.

‘“‘ You remind me,” I said, laughing, “of Oliver
Cromwell. Do you not recollect that for many years
he was harassed by the fear that his life was sought?
It is a penalty, I suppose, that great men must
sometimes pay.”

He was surprised I made such a subject a matter
A CHARACTER. 53

of merriment, he said. Only last night, as he
returned, a strange negro rushed from the bushes,
and his own servants had seemed much discomposed.
What could be the meaning of all this?

Well, we could not convince him that his own
fears formed dangers out of the most harmless
circumstances, so we talked of other things, and
then Mrs. Walker and Bella made their appearance.
Mrs. Walker was very tall and very thin, and I well
remember that her old-fashioned dress was too tight
and too short.

We had for some time heard a sort of half-sup-
pressed bustle in the next room, as of a process of
laborious dressing, mingled with whispers such as
these—‘‘I must wear my kid shoes—that ribbon is
too faded,” &c. This accounted for the flushed face
of Bella, who literally seemed exhausted.

I must confess she was the most weather-beaten
young lady I ever remember to have seen; the very
crimson of her cheeks, having to struggle through an
outer casement of amber colour, became a sort of
deep neutral tint, relieved only by large freckles of a
much darker hue. When she sat down, she put her
feet forward, pressing them together as if she regretted
they were not one, and then I noticed the kid shoes
whispered about in the adjoining apartment. Her
white gloves were soiled and stained, her bracelets
54 A CHARACTER.

tawdry, and her light muslin dress seemed scarcely
suited to that apartment. Her very eyes were sun-
burnt : the part that should have been white being
strangely mixed with red gave them a glaring
appearance.

The feeling uppermost in my mind was the most
profound pity for this unfortunate girl, shut out
from the means of civilization open to even the
poorest in England. I asked her if she liked the
country? ‘Yes, sir,” she said, and then she held
down her head, and broke out into a hissing whis-
pering laugh.

‘ Have you been long in this neighbourhood ?”

‘‘-Yes;” and another mysterious laugh followed,
which it was most painful to hear.

Mrs. Walker had evidently moved, at some fime
of her life, in refined society, and I was quite at a
loss to account how it happened that she had im-
parted none of this civilization to her daughter.

I afterwards learnt from the thin cook a piece of
information, proffered willingly, however, that “ old
massa always lock up old missis when him go out,
and neber let him ’tay wid him own pickney.”

Poor lady! I believe that long oppression had so
benumbed all her finer feelings, that she had for
some time ceased to feel any interest in the improve-
ment of her children.
A CHARACTER. 590

I heard from Mr. Campbell, that Mr. Walker
would sometimes keep his wife for weeks a prisoner
in her bedroom. No marvel, then, that she sunk
into a state of unmurmuring acquiescence, and lost
all energy of purpose, all vigour of mind.

I tried to persuade myself that she sometimes
gazed compassionately on her daughter, but no,
when I looked again, there was something vacant in
the expression that had no doubt been once animated
by maternal affection. My spirits became dejected
to such a degree, that Mr. Campbell began to rally
me on my silence.

Then I made some observation to Bella, and again
the hissing laugh threw me back into a sort of
despondency.

Yet there was a degree of conceit visible about
Bella, that was to me surprising. My friend Mr.
Campbell made some allusion to the frequent visits
of a medical gentleman in the neighbourhood, and
she hung down her head, whilst a smile of delight
did for a moment cause a meteor gleam of intelligence
to flit across her face, and she fidgeted with her
gloves, and the neutral tint deepened on her cheeks,

Poor girl! why should I thus uncharitably accuse
her of conceit?

Was she, then, to consider herself as shut out
from all human affection because debarred the privi-
56 A CHARACTER.

leges of society and education? Might she not have
sterling qualities I could not on a first acquaintance
perceive? There is often a weary toil in darkness
before the gem is found that sparkles in the coronal,
and when I considered what the wisest amongst us
must be in the sight of God, when I remembered
how he pitied our weaknesses, and looked on us and
loved us, disfigured as we were by ignorance, and
rendered loathsome by sin, my heart reproached me,
and for the rest of the evening I am sure my tone
was softer to Bella, and my manner kinder whenever
I addressed her.

The stars were out before we commenced our
homeward ride, and I felt discouraged that I had
not introduced one serious word during the conversa-
tion of that evening. |

‘¢ Never mind,”’ said Mr. Campbell, encouragingly ;
“you can go alone next time, and lure Mr. Walker
to speak of Minny. This will soften his heart, and
no doubt incline him to receive favourably any
observation you may make.”’

My dreams that night were of that strange abode.
I thought I was in the old hall, half sitting-room,
half saddle-room, but Minny was therc, looking
reproachfully at me, as an ambassador of Christ who
had forgotten his message of peace.

As I have before observed, Mr. Walker had taken
A CHARACTER. 57

what is generally called “‘a great fancy” to me,
and I therefore was not surprised to find him at Mr.
Campbell’s the next morning.

He had made himself quite at home during our
absence, for we had been taking a morning ride.
He was sitting with his pipe in the piazza, and his
feet at their usual height, only he did not retain his
dishabille of the preceding evening, and the weight
of his coat seemed to oppress him. His pistols were
close at hand, and the unquiet wandering expression
of countenance very visible this morning.

‘‘ Are you always thus disquieted, Mr. Walker,”
I gently inquired, and I did not laugh this time.

‘‘ Continually on the alert, sir; obliged to be,”
was his answer.

‘‘ If we abide under the shadow of the Almighty,”
I said, “‘ we need not be afraid of the terror by night,
nor the arrow that flieth by day.”

He remained perfectly unmoved.

‘¢ As the mountains are round about Jerusalem,”
I continued, ‘so the Lord is round about his
people.”

‘Aye, jis people!” he replied, with a sudden
vehemence that almost made me start.

‘‘ Do you know, Mr. Scott, although we sit here
side by side, there is an immeasurable gulf between
58 A CHARACTER.

us—that which divides the right hand side from the
left.”

T was so unprepared for any observation of this
kind, that I made no reply, and holding down his
pipe, with a look more sorrowful than I had ever
seen him wear, he moodily continued :

«‘T went on my own dark, wilful way, compara-
tively with ease, but Minny (and there was an inex-
pressible tenderness in his tone when he mentioned
this name), Minny held out a light, and I saw the
dreary waste before me. She is gone, but the light
still remains—nothing will extinguish it, and now I
go on uneasily and sadly, longing yet unable to
quench it.”

“Follow it, my dear sir,” I said; ‘so shall you
bless the day your daughter was led to place it
there; follow it, and it will lead you from the wil-
derness to a land flowing with milk and honey, even
to the heavenly Canaan.”

“Minny,” he continued, without any reference to
my remark, “grew up as a garden flower in the
midst of our wilderness —our uncivilized home.
She was as different from Bella as light from dark-
ness, as different from us all 1

“As the spiritual mind is from the carnal,” I
interrupted.


A CHARACTER. 59

‘‘ Yes,” he said, in no way offended at my remark,
“that was it; and well for her it was that she was
called away, though her sweet and dutiful affection
for me was the only ray that ever brightened a long
and dreary life of sorrow.”

The whole man was changed whilst he was thus
speaking, and all his fears were forgotten.

‘“‘ You may go to her,” I said, ‘‘ though she can-
not return to you.”

‘“‘ Aye, Minny would have her grey-haired father
at her side, that I know well enough,” he replied,
‘but the Holy God will not admit such a one as I into
his presence, and this you know, Mr. Scott,” he
added, with something like severity.

‘‘T know,” I solemnly answered, “‘ that nothing
that defileth can enter into the heavenly land; but I
know that the greatest sinner can be washed and
made white in the blood of the Lamb, that clothed
in the righteousness of his great Surety he can be
presented faultless before the Father. The invitation
is unlimited—‘ Whosoever will, let him come and
take of the waters of Life freely.’ ”’

‘‘ But I do not will,’ he said. ‘‘I am miserable,
yet I would not be a saint.”

‘You would not?” I said, ‘‘ you are convinced
you would not? You would not follow after holi-
ness, you would not be led from the broken cisterns

H
60 A CHARACTER.

of earthly enjoyment to the living fountain of eternal
happiness ? ”’

He looked thoughtful, and I felt I had said enough
on this occasion.

I joined the breakfast party with a lighter heart,
feeling thankful that I had been permitted to open
the way, as it were, to future conversations on this
all important subject.

And so it was. We now frequently talked toge-
ther on religious matters. Sometimes he would meet
my arguments with an air of impenetrability, and at
such times his countenance seemed all at once as if
made of stone. It was discouraging enough. I felt
as if all my counsels and persuasions fell powerless
before him. He made no opposition ; he ensconced
himself in the stronghold of sullen indifference, a
sort of fixed determination to remain unmoved.
This was all necessary for me, that I might more
entirely feel the excellency of the power to be not of
man but of God.

‘Plead thou thine own cause, O Thou most
Mighty,” was my prayer, and then those consoling
words came to my recollection—‘‘ Why art thou cast
down, O my soul? hope thou in God!” Even at that
moment, though I knew it not, amidst all this effort at
indifference, the sword of the Spirit had entered his
soul, the voice that shook the earth had reached his
A CHARACTER. 61

ear. The proud man was to sit in the dust of humi-
liation, that he might become acquainted with Him
who revives the spirit of the contrite.

It was a little after this, that I observed he had
an increasing conviction of guilt, but he would not
look only unto Jesus as the Lamb of God who taketh
away the sins of the world.

He knew, indeed, of the great propitiatory sacri-
fice; he knew that the Lord did not require him to
come into his presence with burnt offerings, with
calves of a year old, yet, in spite of this knowledge,
something he must bring — the determination to
attend the ordinances of religion, the resolve to battle
with his impetuous temper; with these he would
make a barter, as it were, of eternal life.

It was arduous work for him. He studied the
Scriptures, and he saw what the Law required.
‘¢ his do and thou shalt live,” sounded in his ears,
and again he set to work, and again he fell. The
members of his family dreaded even his mention of
religion. He would angrily rebuke the sins he had
so long encouraged, and such was his discontented
spirit, so maddened was he by the sense of sins
which his conscience whispered were new every
morning, that I believe he would at that time have
persecuted even unto death those who opposed him.

He was in this frame of mind when I left him to

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62 A CHARACTER.

return to my duties in the Port Royal Mountains,
and I think more than a year passed away without
any communication having taken place between us,
and then I received a short note from Mr. Walker,
begging me, if possible, to pay him a visit, as he was
very ill, and feared he had not many days to live.

My interest in him was all at once revived, but
Oh, with what a pang of self-reproach I felt how,
even in prayer, I had neglected to ask for him
spiritual light. If our God thus dealt with us, if
His ways were as our ways, what would become of
man? I had even been in his neighbourhood and
neglected to visit him—I, who was the minister, the
steward of the Most High!

I tried to console myself, but it was only a mo-
mentary effort at comfort, by the idea that Mr.
Walker lived far beyond the sphere of my ministerial
duties. Did my Master lose any opportunity of
doing good? A voice from within made inquiry.

These reflections induced me speedily to commence
my journey, my kind friend Dr. Sanders, though
staying with me to obtain a little rest, having
consented to officiate for me on the approaching Sab-
bath, should circumstances detain me longer in the
country than I had anticipated.

It was evening when I reached Lemon Grove.

There were the unpainted venetians, looking, if
A CHARACTER, 63

possible, more neglected than ever. Smudge made
his appearance, and his teeth laughed merrily as
formerly.

My heart revived. Mr. Walker must be better, I
thought, or there would be some touch of anxiety on
this boy’s face.

Full of hope, I entered the dingy room. There
was the wooden chair in the same place, with a
soiled white jacket hanging on it. The slippers
were on the ground, and looked as if they had
remained there since my last visit.

It is impossible to describe the comfortless appear-
ance of that room. It was not the shadow of poverty
that darkened it, it was disorder that pervaded it.
The dried meat was hanging on the wall, and the
setting sunbeams were playing on the candlesticks
which had evidently kept their place on the table
from the preceding evening. Two empty wine-
glasses stood on the faded table-cover, and whilst I
was endeavouring to account for the discomfort
apparent, by the pressing anxiety which might have
caused all minor things to be forgotten, Bella made
her appearance.

My first eager inquiries were after her father.
She gave me to understand that the doctor considered
him in great danger, from an internal attack of gout,
and then the hissing laugh was clear and discordant

H 3
64 A CHARACTER.

as ever, and I felt inclined angrily to ask her if she
had any heart at all.

The thin cook then brought me a cup of coffee,
and told me with the most inconceivable unconcern,
“ that she believed for true old massa would go dead
soon.”

I might have suspected that Mr. Walker’s best
interests would have been neglected at such a time.
I might have been assured that no one there would
feel concern for the immortal part about to leave its
frail tenement, but such utter want of feeling for
the father and master I was not prepared to meet.
I saw it all. He had lived at war with his domestic
circle; he had ruled by fear, and affection in
trembling had flown away from that household.

But still, Mrs. Walker: if all were unconcerned
woman’s enduring love would triumph !

I wish in the present instance I could carry out
this principle. I have known affection, through
cold neglect and bitter unkindness, flourish luxu-
riantly, twining its tendrils round the very tree
whose shadow was death ; but sometimes—the truth
must be told—sometimes it is crushed and so cruelly
trampled on, that it cannot rise again.

We will, however, leave these reflections for the
present, and go on to the sick man’s room.

As a minister, I had often visited the chamber of
A CHARACTER. 65

suffering—the bed of death. I had seen love and
erief vainly trying to arrest the progress of their
common enemy, and now, as Bella put her hand on
the venetianed door, I fancied I heard some one
sobbing, and, strange as it may seem, the very sup-
position relieved me. There was, then, one sorrow-
ful heart in that home circle, that would sigh forthe
familiar step, the missing tone; one who would feel
life less glad when he was taken away.

Slowly we entered the room, and immediately
opposite the door lay Mr. Walker, in a small four-
posted bedstead.

His fine features, though much attenuated,
appeared more classical than ever, and his long grey
hair being kept in control by his nightcap, showed
his wide high forehead. There was no mosquito
net, but from the upper part of the framework of
the bedstead hung divers kinds of harness, riding
whips, and driving whips, whilst across the head-
board. swords were inversely placed.

Near the window was a puncheon of rum, which
served as a table.

Mr. Walker was sleeping when I entered, and his
breath made the peculiar noise which I had mistaken
for sobs.

At the foot of his bed sat Mrs. Walker. She
greeted me with the same depressing composure.
66 A CHARACTER.

There certainly was no visible sign of distress, and
from her employment, which was novel-reading, I
judged there could be no great internal sadness.

I watched Mr. Walker as he slept. There was
occasionally a quivering thrill on his face, as if, in
sleep he was suffering.

I cannot bear, even at this distance of time, to
think of the indifference with which Mrs. Walker
looked on all this. It is sad to see the heart broken,
bleeding, torn to pieces by the tempest of affliction,
but sadder far to see it unmoved under the chastening
hand of the Almighty.

Drawing towards me a low stool, I sat beside the
dying man, and took his feverish hand in mine.

How comfortless everything seemed. The back
door of the apartment opened on a yard, where, on
some low cashaw bushes, clothes were spread to dry,
and the fowls, unrebuked, walked in and out of the
chamber.

‘“‘The doctor must have given him some composing
draught,” said Mrs. Walker, looking at her husband,
‘“‘for he has been much more tranquil for the last
two or three days,” and then she brought many
charges against him, and complained of the martyr-
dom she had often been called upon to endure from
his impetuous disposition.

I knew that for years she had bowed under his
A CHARACTER. 67

oppression, but I sighed to think how every spark of
affection must have been extinguished, ere she could
at such a time speak so disparagingly of the husband
of her youth.

And yet, she had once loved him with fervour.
She had listened for his homeward step, and with
throbbing heart had welcomed his return.

Oh, better far for death to break the chain of
earthly love, than for the corroding rust of indiffe-
rence gradually to consume it, but still better when,
one in faith and hope, we learn to bear each other’s
burdens, and being heirs together of the grace of
life, look forward to the blessed time when we shall
sit together in heavenly places.

When I turned towards Mr. Walker his eyes were
open. He pressed my hand, and thanked me for
coming, adding that he was undeserving of such
kindness.

‘‘ There is something more than an opiate at work
here,” I thought, and I inwardly prayed that it
might be so. I hopefully remembered the Prophet's
words—

‘‘They also that erred in spirit shall come to
understanding, and they that murmured shall learn
doctrine.”

‘Jesus saith unto her, ‘Mary,’” he slowly
repeated. ‘‘Oh, Mr. Scott, you can scarcely tell
68 A CHARACTER.

what comfort those words brought to my soul.
There was love in the tone, and she knew her
master. He has spoken to me in love,” he con-
tinued, and the tears rolled down his cheeks, “ and
now I know that I am poor, and wretched, and
miserable, and blind, and naked. My good works!
What an idea!—all sin-stained and polluted as my
best actions are.’

Then partially rising, and supporting himself on
his left arm, in a voice that almost startled me from
its solemnity, —

‘But he has wrought out a perfect righteousness
for me,” he said; ‘‘ he has redeemed us from the curse
of the law, being made a curse for us.”

Here, then, was the work accomplished at which
I had so vainly laboured; accomplished without
even man’s instrumentality. Prayerfully had he
studied Minny’s bible, and redeeming love had
melted the hard impenetrability of his soul, and in
the softened heart-soil, humility was the first plant
that appeared. I am sure he thought himself the
chief of sinners. The change was wonderful. I
could only silently look at the altered expression of
his countenance: all fear had passed away. There
he lay—he who through life had been restless and
disquieted, painfully irritable in the slightest illness,
now calm in acute suffering, looking forward from
A CHARACTER. 69

that miserable room, with a hope full of immortality,
to the Heavenly City.

‘Tf any man among you seemeth to be wise, let
him become a fool, that he may be wise.”

Mr. Walker seemed to lie as a little child at the
feet of Jesus, and in a manner that I have seldom
met with, spoke of the Saviour as near and present
with him.

I have often mourned a want of this realising
love, even amongst sincere Christians. I have
watched the affectionate wife, whose eyes grew
tearful at the very mention of a passing anxiety of
her husband’s, listen with unaccountable coldness to
the tale of Calvary. And yet we should be indig-
nant if our love to God were doubted. We walk by
sight, not by faith; our affections do not go forth as
they should to Him we have not seen; no marvel,
then, that there are so many mourners in Zion, for
with lukewarm spirits such as these, the joy un-
speakable can never dwell. These things ought not
so to be.

Mr. Walker regretted very much the sad way in
which he had neglected his family, and we prayed
together for his wife and daughter.

it was a stormy night: sudden heavy showers,
with much lightning. There was a great deal of
70 A CHARACTER.

woodland at the back of the house, and the lizards
croaked, the snakes hissed, the crickets chirped, and
the cashaw trees threw heavily against the venetians
their burden of rain-drops.

I sat by Mr. Walker all night, and the lamp was
dimly burning when the grey dawn of a cloudy
morning—an unusual thing between the tropics—
made the desolate apartment look more wretched
than ever.

Oh, how I pitied Mr. Walker—no heart was there
to watch over him in yearning love. Mrs. Walker
was in the hall; Bella was in bed; the nurse was
sleeping soundly. The dogs began to bark, and the
cocks vehemently to crow.

Mr. Walker murmured Minny’s name; then he
told me he was dying, but begged me not to call any
one. He looked on the eastern sky, and smilingly
said, —

“The night is far spent, the day is at hand.”

And so it was. The everlasting morning was even
then dawning on his soul. Another moment, and he
was no longer an inmate of that desolate house. He
had done with fear and care and sorrow, and entered
into the joy of his Lord.

Would you believe, that the next day things went
on much as usual, only some preparations were made
A CHARACTER. 71

for Mr. Walker’s interment in the evening. Bella
actually whispered a laugh when I bade her adieu,
and Smudge’s teeth looked joyous as ever.

I was grieved beyond measure at the indifference
of that household. Not one there mourned for the
broken chain. Mrs. Walker looked grave, but it
was the studied appearance of one who thought it
proper to be serious. I could not mistake—no grief
was there.

Mr. Walker was beyond the reach of all this cold-
ness. He had, in the House of his God, a place and
a name, better than that of sons and daughters, even
an everlasting name, that could not be cut off.
CHAPTER III.

Che Forsaken Bride,

[ was staying at a small coffee plantation for change
of air, having almost promised my dear wife, from
whom I was to be absent for two months, that I
would remain idle, when I received a pressing letter
from Mr. Simmons, a gentleman with whom I had
lately become acquainted, earnestly entreating me to
visit his daughter. Such a summons I could not
conscientiously disregard, and early the next morn-
ing I was on my way to that gentleman’s lowland
residence. The mountains were all around me, and
in the sea of mist from which their summits indis-
tinctly rose, they appeared like islands studding
an Indian Archipelago. At a winding of the road
I looked down on the rising sun, which was “as a
THE FORSAKEN BRIDE. 73

bridegroom coming out of his chamber, rejoicing as a
strong Man to run a race.”

Rapidly I descended the hill, and long ere the
glittering dews were dried by the scorching sun-
beams, I had arrived at the low dwelling.

Oh, that house! It was deep in the country—in
Jamaica’s country—and those who have never left
England can form no idea of such solitude. The
wild cashaw trees surrounded the mansion; nay,
through the floor of the back piazza, one of those trees
in its unruly growth had protruded, and was flourish-
ing there in unabashed luxuriance. “I must be
mistaken,’’ I thought, for I had never before visited
Mr. Simmons, as ascending the broken stone steps I
entered the hall, through the massive mahogany
doors, which from their encasement in dust, seemed
not to have been closed for years. As I advanced
into the dreary room not a living being was to be
seen. It might have been sixty feet in length. A
very old-fashioned sofa stood at one end, whilst the
other was adorned by a black mahogany side-board,
heavily carved. I say black, because time had taken
from the mahogany its usual colour, and the cocoa-
nut oil with which it had been profusely polished,
no doubt added in some degree to its sable appear-
ance. A dining table much in the same ponderous

I 2
74 THE FORSAKEN BRIDE.

style, and a few high-backed chairs, complaies the
furniture of the apartment.

I walked up and down in the hopes that my boots
would summon some one to arrest the progress of an
intruder. There were two large mirrors on each
side of the arched doorway; mirrors did I say? they
reflected but shadows of the forms presented to them,
for as I stood before them that which met my gaze
would have been an excellent copy for one of those
spiritual beings which our superstitious fancies clothe
in shadows from the tomb.

Turning from these looking-glasses to the old-
fashioned windows, I saw traced with a diamond on
one of the small panes, ‘‘ Bertha Hamilton, 1788,”
and underneath in a somewhat stronger hand was
written, ‘‘ Horace Manley.”

And can it be, I thought, that this fragile glass has
stood unharmed for so many years, whilst the young,
the strong, and the beautiful, have been swept away
like grass by the scythe of death? There were many
panes broken around; why then was this preserved ?
Age had not at that time quelled the romance of my
disposition, and how far my imagination might have
carried me I know not, but at that moment a loud
“Hi!” arrested my attention, and looking round, I
saw a large black woman with a red turban and long
THE FORSAKEN BRIDE. 75

gold ear-rings. She wore a white cotton body, a
very short dark blue petticoat, and neither shoe nor
stocking covered her feet. I believe I looked startled,
for she smiled, and her very white teeth relieved in
a measure the monotonous appearance of her coun-
tenance.

‘My name is Scott,” I said, ‘and I have come
here, at the request of Mr. Simmons, to see his
daughter, who is, I understand, dangerously ill.”

She did not appear in the least to comprehend me,
but after staring at me for some time, she said, “‘ Me
go bring Missis.”’

After waiting for more than three quarters of an
hour in this very desolate apartment, a lady entered,
and introducing herself as Mrs. Simmons, took her
seat beside me. Although many years had passed
since I visited Logwood Hall, I perfectly remember
that lady’s appearance. She was rather stout, and
might have been forty-eight or fifty years of age.
Her face was very red, but this colour did not con-
fine itself to her cheeks—forehead, nose, all wore the
same hue. She had on a bright green silk dress,
made quite in the fashion of other days, and exceed-
ingly tumbled. There was an ill-conducted, or if I
may so express myself, a sort of plebeian hauteur in
her manner ; it was pride without dignity, gaucherie,
but not modesty. Her thoughts, I soon discovered,

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76 THE FORSAKEN BRIDE.

seldom ranged beyond her stores and her poultry
yard, her unruly servants, and her lack of town
luxuries in her secluded situation. During breakfast
time her tone was unchanged; it was one unvaried
note of murmur in the midst of abounding comforts.
Whenever I attempted to express my sense of the
excellent repast I was enjoying, it seemed but to
touch a chord in her heart that vibrated to reminis-
cences of better times; and when she had completed
her hearty meal, for she plentifully partook of the
many dishes in spite of their culinary inferiority, she
rose from the table without one breath of thankful-
ness to him who had thus blessed her in her basket
and her store, and as she stood in the back piazza,
giving orders for the day, the same querulous
cadence fell on my ear, and I could not help think-
ing of that great gain, even godliness with content-
ment, which is the portion of those who love the law
of their Lord.

“Mr. Scott,’ she said, rather abruptly, ‘“‘ my
daughter Grace is very anxious to see you, but I
am afraid you must postpone your visit to her till
to-morrow, as she is in a state of great nervous
excitement; her disease is considered to be con-
sumption, and Dr. Cole says she must be kept from
all unnecessary agitation, I would therefore caution
you to say nothing that may alarm her. She has
THE FORSAKEN BRIDE. 77

ever been a kind and dutiful child to me, and our
rector, Mr. Morton, told me she was as pure as an
angel.”

“OQ, Madam,” I quickly replied, “that cannot be;
the deep stain of sin is on us when we enter the
world, and unless cleansed in the precious blood of
Christ, we can never hope to enter the kingdom of
heaven.”

“Then,” she said, ‘you are one of those sancti-
fied people who mean to tell her that she must suffer
eternally, because she will not profess to be better
than her fellow-creatures ;” and quite forgetting the
courtesy of manner which good taste renders so ne-
cessary in refined society, she turned from me with
ill-concealed disgust.

‘‘Grace’s grandmother,” at length she observed,
“put some strange notions in my poor child’s head,
and this makes her so anxious to see you.”

I thought of the soft answer that turneth away
wrath, and looking at her as complacently as I could,
‘‘ My message, dear Madam,”’ I gently said, “‘is one
of mercy, not of wrath, the Lord hath anointed me
to preach good tidings unto the meek, he hath sent
me to bind up the broken-hearted.”

Something very like a “‘ phsaw”’ escaped her lips,
but as if recollecting herself, she converted it into a
sigh.
78 THE FORSAKEN BRIDE.

The day seemed long and weary, but at length the
purple twilight began to rest on the flat cashaw trees,
and across the bright line of crimson in the west the
bats were flitting to and fro. Dinner was served in
the abundant style of Jamaica’s olden days; a pro-
fusion of yams, a large roasting-pig at the head of
the table, whilst a couple of guinea birds, with no
inconsiderable portion of pepper pot, completed our
first course.

Mr. Simmons was a heavy-looking, quiet man.
His manner seemed to be a sort of compelled resig-
nation to an inevitable fate. After partaking plenti-
fully of Jamaica cane beverage, he became more com-
municative.

“Poor Grace!” he said. ‘‘ Well, what must be
must.”’ |

Here, I thought, is a field of usefulness before me,
they know nothing of the comfort of religion, nothing
of the privilege of being able to cast their cares on
Jesus; I was his ambassador, and yet I felt spell-
bound. At last I ventured to ask the old gentleman
if his daughter were in a happy state of mind.

‘“‘ Yes, sir, yes, I believe so,” he said, “and yet,
poor child, she has been troubled of late.”

‘Has she any conviction of sin, any sense of the
need of a Saviour’s justifying righteousness and par-
doning love?’’ I enquired.
THE FORSAKEN BRIDE. 79

“Sir,” hastily interrupted Mrs. Simmons, who
now joined us as we walked in the piazza, “if you
mean to horrify her in that manner, you will hasten
her death ; Dr. Cole says so.”

I felt at first very much inclined to tell Mrs.
Simmons that unless I dealt faithfully with her
daughter, I had better not enter the sick chamber,
but upon reflection, I considered that I might lose
the opportunity of speaking comfort to a tempest-
tossed soul; for from what I had heard, I began to
suspect that the dying girl was earnestly seeking the
narrow way to Zion.

Early the next morning, after I had been strolling
about the neglected and desolate looking bush-land
that was immediately around, and watching the glo-
rious sun rising like a kingly conqueror above the
distant mountains, scattering the mists in his pro-
gress, and shedding, as if in pity, some of his brightest
beams on the dilapidated mansion, I perceived a very
old lady approaching me, leaning on the arm of a
brown girl, who had a more civilized appearance than
my sable friend of the preceding day. The old lady,
who introduced herself to me as Mrs. Simmons, wore
an ancient looking cap, for everything around me
had the appearance of a hundred years ago, her dress
being something in the style of costume that pictures
give to the reign of Queen Elizabeth. There was,
80 THE FORSAKEN BRIDE.

however, an extremely pleasant expression in her
soft dark eye, and when she smiled it seemed to me
the first welcome I had received at Logwood Hall.

“‘The dear invalid will see you after breakfast,”
she mildly said, ‘and oh, may the blessing of the
Holy Spirit rest on the word spoken.”

Here, then, I learnt the secret of that sweet ex-
pression of countenance which had so charmed me.
Amidst earthly anxieties, hers was the spirit that
stayed itself on its God.

‘“‘ There is then, at least one,” I mentally said,
‘“‘ who will put no obstacle in my path of duty.”

“Our dear Grace,” she continued in a low voice,
and looking up to the house, as if fearful of being
heard, “our dear Grace thinks that her iniquities
are too heavy for her, and that she must sink under
their pressure.”

‘So she inevitably would,” I replied, “‘ were it
not for one who says, ‘Cast thy burden upon me,
and I will sustain thee.’”’

About two hours after this conversation, I found
myself at the side of Grace Simmons. There she sat
in her pillowed chair, fair and fragile indeed, but a
beautiful garden plant in the midst of surrounding
desolation. She seemed to bring me back to present
life, for as I have before said, everything around me
wore the impress of long, long ago. When I entered, a
THE FORSAKEN BRIDE. 81

deep but passing crimson flush overspread her cheeks.
She put her cold hand into mine, her lips quivered,
and the beating of her heart agitated the delicate
white frill of her dressing-gown. The large tears
forced their way from her closed eyelids. I felt the
difficulty of my situation, for I saw that the least
excitement must be prejudicial to her. I thought of
her mother’s caution, but inwardly offering a prayer
for guidance, I gently whispered, “ Comfort ye, com-
fort ye my people, saith your God. I the Lord have
called thee in righteousness, and will hold thine
hand, and will keep thee.”

‘Thank you,” she said, and then after praying
with her, I left, promising to return in the evening.

We had several long and uninterrupted conversa-
tions. I spoke of the many mansions in the Father’s
house, and of the everlasting covenant ordered in all
things and sure. I told her of the righteousness that
justifies, and of the spirit that sanctifies. I reminded
her that there was no condemnation to those who
were in Christ Jesus, that He who had loved her
had loved her with an everlasting love. I told her
that if utterly casting aside all idea of meriting
heaven by anything she could do, she pleaded the
finished work of Jesus as her only hope, and lying
in helplessness at the foot of the cross, cried, ‘‘ Lord
save or I perish,” the word of the Omnipotent was
82 THE FORSAKEN BRIDE.

pledged for her security; that though heaven and
earth might pass away, not one jot or tittle of that
word could fail—‘‘ Him that cometh unto me I will
in no wise cast out.”

One morning she welcomed me with a brighter
countenance, and said, “I have been trying to rest
on Jesus with all my fears, and you know” she con-
tinued in her own playful way, “ vapour cannot live
near the sun; my doubts are vanishing in the light
of His countenance.”

And so it really was; the morning star of peace
gently arose on her soul, and she was at length
enabled to cry, ‘“‘I sought the Lord, and he heard
me, and delivered me out of all my fears.”’

There are some who are ready to say, “ Ah, this
doctrine of getting to heaven without any effort, and
only through Christ, is a dangerous and easy one.

We may do just as we like, and all will be right. at ‘

last.’ But they are wrong. It is no easy matter
to cast aside self on that lowly and contrite heart,
the Holy Spirit must breathe its life-giving influ-
ence. And then these cavillers know nothing of the
love that constraineth. This was beautifully exem-
plified by Grace. She kept a watch even over her
thoughts, lest she should grieve Him who had loved
her, and given himself for her. By the mercies of
God she desired to give up herself to her Redeemer,
THE FORSAKEN BRIDE. 83

and the holy influence of these blessed principles
were soon visible in her daily walk; for she knew
that the branch abiding in the vine must bear fruit,
and that if she would continue in the Father’s love,
she must keep his commandments.

I returned to my coffee plantation, and then again
visited Logwood Hall. The rainy weather kept me
there throughout the month of October, for the
“gullies were down,” as the negroes say, and th
roads were impassable. |

This change in the mental atmosphere of our dear
invalid from cloud to sunshine, was not the work of a
moment; sometimes it was desert waste around her,
and then earnestly she had to call on her God; and
He that had mercy on her, led her, even by springs
of water did he guide her. Her growth in grace
though gradual was sure, and at length that timid
and shrinking girl could stand fearlessly on the
borders of the river of death. We sometimes had
hope, but she knew from the first that her days were
numbered. The light from eternity was even then
making radiant to her the thought of approaching
dissolution, the King of Terrors was being gradually
transformed into a messenger of peace, and she, who
with her own good works as passports, had been
kept trembling on the borders of the narrow gulf,
now looking only unto Jesus, was released from the

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84 THE FORSAKEN BRIDE.

bondage of fear, earnestly desiring to depart and be
with Christ.

Grace sometimes appeared stronger, and would
often sit with us in the evening, in the lone piazza,
and very pleasant were our conversations of eternal
things.

It was a sad wild life for her, that Jamaica home ;
‘‘but Grandmamma’s tales of the olden time often
make me forget,” she would say, “ the present
dreariness of our sombre dwelling.” And that dear
old lady’s mind was fraught with the memories of
other days, and well pleased were both Grace and I
when she would give us from the stores of her own
experience the affectionate counsel, or instructive
tale.

On the night of which I speak, as I assisted Grace
to the armed chair, ‘‘ I have lured from Grandmamma
a promise,” she smilingly said, ‘ that you shall hear
the window pane story to-night ;” and we had not
been long seated before the old lady commenced her
tale :—

“ Bifty years ago,” she said, “‘ this house was not
the melancholy dwelling that it now is. Through
those ancient looking doors passed many a glittering
throng—these walls echoed to lively music—those
mirrors faithfully reflected the bloom on youthful
beauty’s cheek, and the flush on manhood’s triumphant
THE FORSAKEN BRIDE. 85

brow. The bridal garland has been reflected there,
and amidst the laugh and song and dance, one would
have been almost inclined to fancy that the end of
such mirth could not be heaviness. But who that
has mixed in such an assembly, has not learned that
stifled sighs and pallid cheeks are in the midst of
merriment? there is ever shadow in that sunshine,
and in its loveliest music an undertone of wail.

‘‘My name is Mary, my two sisters were called
Bertha and Estelle. It was during a fine October
that we left England, and in Jamaica’s gayest time
we arrived in Spanish Town. My father, Mr.
Hamilton, fearing the heat of that place might prove
injurious to us on our first arrival, hurried us to this
his country residence, and by way of compensation
for the loss of town festivities, he gave here several
large parties. I was his oldest daughter, and at that
time about twenty-one years of age.

‘‘ My sister Bertha was the beauty of the family.
Fair as a lily, her tall slight form seemed to bend
with the elegance of that lovely flower. There was
much animation blended in her countenance, which
is not often the case, with a sweet expression of
gentleness.

‘* Kstelle had a sallow complexion, and would have
been plain had it not been for the fervour of her
black eyes; but she was born to command, and

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86 THE FORSAKEN BRIDE.

although the youngest of us, we were often com-
pletely ruled by her.

‘‘ Bertha was ever seeking the happiness of others,
yet she hoarded human affection with a care that
some would have called selfish; an ungentle word
would blanch her check, and though Estelle often
rallied her on what she called her want of spirit, yet
I have frequently heard her express earnest admira-
tion of Bertha’s forgiving temper.

‘‘T was the most prosaic of the party—as matter-
of-fact a little body as ever you knew. I plodded
on my quiet way, regretting the impetuosity of one
sister, and smiling at the romance of the other. Yet
I had by far the largest share of common sense ; by
this I mean that kind of knowledge that is so useful
in the uninteresting, but frequently occurring emer-
gencies of every-day life.

‘‘ Our first ball! It seems but as yesterday. On
that pile of stones which you can indistinctly see,
stood one of the most picturesque lodges you can
well imagine. On the night of which I speak, a
covered walk led from that spot to this doorway,
prettily illuminated by coloured lamps.

‘‘ The Governor and his lady were amongst our
first guests, and that now desolate-looking hall was
soon filled by every one of any consequence in this
part of the island.
THE FORSAKEN BRIDE. 87

‘“‘ How my father could persuade them to come so
many miles from town I know not, but so it was,
and before ten o’clock the chandeliers shone on many
a lovely brow, the martial tones of military music
stirred many a youthful heart, and the light and
joyous step was bounding in the happy dance.

‘* Bertha was, I thought, more beautiful than any
there, but this might have been a sister’s partiality.
She was, however, almost too fearful; alarm was on
her face as she clung to her father’s arm. Then so
many of the military stood round her that it per-
plexed and confused her.

‘‘ Estelle was led out to the dance by Colonel
Prescott, and I followed with a barrister of some
note in the island. My father looked well pleased.
I lost sight of Bertha, for the room was crowded, but
after the first dance was over I found her in the back
piazza.

‘‘T shall never forget her appearance. She was
leaning back in a low cushioned chair; her clear
muslin dress and pale blue sash being gently agitated
by the land breeze, whilst at her right hand stood a
fine-looking military man in the very act of present-
ing to her a bunch of grapes.

‘‘She seemed afraid of her companion, whom she
introduced to me as Captain Manley.

‘There was something imposing, though not

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88 THE FORSAKEN BRIDE.

altogether pleasing in his appearance. He had not
the tone of flattery to which ladies in a ball room are
accustomed.

‘© ¢Tf Miss Hamilton does not wish to engage her-
self to me for another dance, let it be so,’ he said,
and his proud lip curled with an expression of
haughtiness.

‘‘ Bertha hesitated for a moment, and then
answered,—

‘¢ ¢T will dance—with you.’

‘¢ He offered her his arm, and I soon lost sight of
them in the mazes of the assembly.

‘‘ Now all this time we had not one thought of
Him who was even then about our path, and
acquainted with all our ways. We rose in the
morning high in spirits, without a breath of thanks-
giving to Him who had made us to dwell in safety.
Our evening parties were frequently repeated ; our
souls were held in life by the God to whom we never
gave one grateful thought, and, in the dissipation
around us, I doubt if a serious idea of eternity ever
found a place in our careless hearts.

«¢ Well may the Psalmist say, ‘ Lord, what is man,
that thou art mindful of him? or the son of man,
that thou so regardest him ?’

‘But Estelle—the imperious Estelle—was en-
gaged to be married to the Honourable Mr. Trevor,
THE FORSAKEN BRIDE. 89

and the bridal day was fixed. He could provide her
with luxuries, and give her what the world calls a
good establishment, and she was glad; yet I am
sure that, even at this time, her heart was not
altogether satisfied, for there is in every one of us,
though we may recklessly turn from the way of life,
a craving for something beyond what earth can give,
the highest joys of mortality being ever insufficient
to satisfy the yearnings of the soul that is immortal.

“‘ My dear father, too, was altogether a man of
the world—he had his portion in this life. Oh, had
he but drunk from the river of crystal water that
maketh glad the City of God, how would he have
turned from the mud-stained streams of earthly
enjoyment, but he knew nothing of that peace such
as the world giveth not, and in business and dissipa-
tion, in the favour of man, and in the advancement
of his family, he almost succeeded in hushing the
still small voice that faintly whispered of death and
judgment.

“‘ Captain Manley was a constant visitor at our
house, and a great favourite with my father. It
certainly was not similarity of tastes that drew them
so together, for the one was fond of literary occupa-
tions, whilst agricultural pursuits were those in
which the other delighted, but there was a fascination
about Captain Manley, that to many seemed irresist-
90 THE FORSAKEN BRIDE.

ible. What it was that so attached you to him, it
was impossible to say. That stern glance would
surely keep in subordination any attempt at intimacy ;
but it was not so: in spite of the haughty aspect and
forbidding frown, he had at times a winning power,
and it was his very exercise of this power that kept
him from being a favourite with me. He would
draw you, by mental force, to his very heart, and
then laugh at the weakness that had unresistingly
submitted to his influence.

‘His daring and openly avowed contempt for
many round him, though startling at first, had a
piquancy in it that made one often listen against
their better judgment to the bitter sarcasm and
caricatured incident in the lively anecdote.

‘‘Bertha, the gentle, enthusiastic Bertha, was
charmed—spell-bound; and yet it was an uneasy
affection, a troublous love. No slave was ever under
sterner control than she. The chain was around
her—I do not say it was galling, still she was no
longer free. I believe that had Captain Manley told
her to walk into the ocean, she would have done his
bidding.

‘“‘ Tt was in this piazza that they continually met.
I was sitting near them when they wrote their
names on that glass.

‘At last, all was arranged. He was to return to
THE FORSAKEN BRIDE. 91

England to settle some matters relative to property,
and then again to visit Jamaica to claim our gentle
sister as his bride.

‘‘ Bertha became very sad, but her extreme look
of sorrow was of course attributable to this. separation.
Once or twice I overheard Captain Manley in vehe-
ment and loud conversation with her. I did feel,
from an inexpressible manner about him, that he
was not calculated to make happy the tender heart
of Bertha. And, poor child, she was so wholly
devoted to him that one trembled for her. Though
she would breathe a prayer to Heaven for his safety
in her confused and undefined yearning for protection
beyond what earth could give, yet she had no idea of
going to her God for direction and strength; she was
literally borne down by the overpowering presence of
human affection, and anxiety sat brooding on her sky.

‘‘ Captain Manley wished her to leave friends
and home with him, and to consent to a private
marriage in Kingston, that they might return to
England together.

‘‘ She was fortified by no religious principle, and
her attachment was crying loudly to her to comply
with his request. We knew nothing of all this at
the time, but there was a nervous restlessness in her
manner, an unusual irritability about her that could
not fail to attract my attention.
92 THE FORSAKEN BRIDE.

‘Even to Bertha, Captain Manley was not ail
tenderness. Her pillow was frequently watered by
her tears, and yet so complete was her thraldom,
that I believe she would have suffered anything
rather than have opposed his wishes.

‘‘ Oh, had she at that time known of Him who
giveth power to the faint; could she then have cast
her burden of care on the Lord, her heart would have
grown calmer even amidst the difficulties that sur-
rounded her.

‘‘ But, as I have before said, though we had been
educated at a fashionable school, and had regularly
attended Divine worship, we had never learnt the
depravity of our nature, and the necessity of that
entire change of heart which is only effected by the
renovating power of the Holy Spirit.

‘¢We were called Christians, but we were in
heathen darkness, and, at that time, had any one
told us that the heart was deceitful above all things,
and desperately wicked, I am persuaded we should
have indignantly denied the assertion, presump-
tuously confident that, amidst the refinement and
elegancies of society, iniquity in such power could
never exist. We did not consider that the verdant
ivy and the beautiful tendril covered the ruin, but it
was a ruin still. We did not remember that the
sunbeam sparkled on the river, amidst whose depths
THE FORSAKEN BRIDE. 93

was death. Where, then, was our Fortress and our
High Tower when the shafts of temptation were
around us?

“Poor Bertha! In the time of trial she had no
Almighty Friend to stand by her and strengthen her,
and being naturally of a gentle and yielding dispo-
sition, she had not moral courage, though feeling
miserable at her weakness, to resist Captain Manley’s
earnest entreaties that she would consent to a private
marriage, and accompany him to England.

‘¢ Even at this distance of time,” said the old lady,
“‘ I cannot think but with intense pain of that period
of our Bertha’s history. Preparations for Estelle’s
marriage were going on, but Bertha, in sad abstrac-
tion, took no interest in anything.

‘We had at that time an old African negro,
called ‘ Princess,’ who acted as housekeeper. This
good creature, though fond of us all, had an especial
regard for Bertha. I have seen her, when the dear
girl was dressed for a party, sit on the floor with
folded arms, lost in admiration of her young missis,
and when her feelings found vent in words, numerous
were the similes she employed to give expression to
her thoughts.

““* You see him wear diamond,’ she would say ;
‘God gib him brighter jewel than that. You no see
Q4 THE FORSAKEN BRIDE.

him eye, how him ’parkle like fire fly? Hi my missis !
Old Princess get up early, him see cloud red, him see
bright prickly pear, but him see noting like young
missis’ pretty face.’ And then the finale—it was not
a sigh, nor a groan, but an intonation of admiring
rogard that could not be expressed in language.

‘‘ Bertha and I occupied that large bedroom in the
south-western corner. On the night of which I
speak, my dear sister had fallen asleep before I had
retired to rest, and it was Princess who drew my
attention to her.

“ Poor Pickney,” said the old woman, in her
uncouth deep-toned voice; but there was feeling in
the expression, and as I turned to look at Bertha, I
was startled, nay shocked, by the very sunken
appearance of her face.. How was it I had not
noticed this before. ‘The deep dark line so clearly
traced under the closed eye, the very pale cheek and
reduced form. She murmured ‘ Horace!’ and then,
with a shudder, said,—

“ «No, never! I cannot do it. My father!
my sisters! Is it true, or is it a dream eS

‘‘ ¢Missis,’ said old pen ‘sea always make
noise before storm come.’

‘‘T did not exactly understand the old woman, but
I saw she feared all was not right.
THE FORSAKEN BRIDE. 95

“Tt might have been midnight when I was
awakened by a gentle arm clasped round me. It
was Bertha.

“May I not sleep with you, dear Mary,’ she
said, ‘for my dreams are troubled and my heart is
sad. Would that I were in the quiet grave,’ she
continued, with an energy of manner which convinced
me it was not merely the temporary separation from
Captain Manley that distressed her.

“I told her of the expressions she had used whilst
sleeping, and I confessed to her that my knowledge
of Captain Manley’s character convinced me that he
was urging on her gentle spirit some line of conduct
from which her better nature revolted, and then she
told me all. But to meet him the next day, she
said, would be impossible. .

‘‘ Oh, how he had wound himself round every fibre
of her loving heart! As I have before said, her
feelings were held in no check by religion, and her
affection for him was idolatry.

“The first grey light of morning was already
tracing the outline of the venetianed windows, and
I was still quite undecided as to the mode of conduct
which it would be best to pursue.

“It was five o’clock when Princess made her
appearance as was her custom to waken us for a
morning ride, and I believe I expressed to Bertha, as

L
96 THE FORSAKEN BRIDE.

the faithful creature was standing near us, the per-
plexity in which I felt myself. A sudden look of
intelligence glowed on the negro’s face, and she said,

‘«¢ ¢God Almighty no help missis? Me poor neger,
but Him listen to Princess. Him tell Princess,
‘‘Knock—for true door shut,” but Him open when
Princess knock hard.’ ‘ Try, my sweet young missis,’
she continued; ‘you know him kind Fader, though
we no see him. Princess lub him—him good to
Princess.’

‘ Would you believe I was at that time in such a
state of ignorance, that I knew not of the precious
promise—‘ Ask, and ye shall receive ; seek, and ye
shall find; knock, and it shall-be opened unto you;’
and when the illiterate negro spoke thus feelingly of
the mercies of her Heavenly Father, I felt at an
immeasurable distance from Him whom, having not
seen, she loved. Yet, even then, I was forcibly
struck with the idea, that the wisdom of this world
was foolishness with God, for I felt my inferiority
even to this almost semi-barbarous creature.

‘¢ No time was to be lost; and when Princess left
the room, I fell on my knees, and I believe I prayed,
that is, I really preferred a request for the first time
in my life, to God, through Christ, for I had learnt
that we could not approach the Omnipotent but
through his Son. I had often gone through the
THE FORSAKEN BRIDE. 97

form of prayer, but I am sure this was the first
earnest desire I had ever breathed.

‘““* Guide me, O God,’ I said; ‘ help me to act
wisely in this trying matter.’

‘““T possessed not even a bible. You may think
this strange, but fifty years ago, in J amaica, religion
was not only altogether an unfashionable thing, but
those who desired in any way to be guided by its
precepts, were shunned by all classes of society, and
avoided as persons with whom any intercourse would
be dangerous.

‘‘T remember, however, that I opened my prayer-
book, and my eye fell upon those words in the Forty-
second Psalm, ‘Put thy trust in God ; could it be
that through the spirit-gloom in which I was enve-
loped a ray of heavenly light had pierced? Surely,
He whose name is Wonderful, was then at my side,
though I knew it not.

‘‘ My plan was formed. I would speak to Captain
Manley. Bertha’s heart was a precious thing, and
must not be heedlessly broken. What was there to
prevent an immediate marriage between these two
loving hearts? It is true, pecuniary matters were
not all arranged, but this could afterwards be settled.
Bertha’s portion was almost of itself a sufficiency.
Captain Manley could return to England with his
bride—given to him with a father’s blessing, for I

L 2
98 THE FORSAKEN BRIDE,

felt certain I could persuade him to agree to this
arrangement. Bertha had, it appeared to me, been
necdlessly standing on the very borders of a fearful
precipice ; she had turned from the path of duty to
tread the dreary mazes of concealment and error, but
all would yet be right. Thus I cheered my droop-
ing sister.

‘“‘ As I entered the breakfast room, I felt a little
nervous, and could scarcely meet Captain Manley’s
searching glance.

“There he sat, at that very table. Bertha met
him timidly, and pleaded headach in excuse for
pallid looks. Poor child! the tea-cup trembled as
she raised it to her head, and I saw that Captain
Manley was not satisfied. Once or twice his eye
seemed to rest with scorching influence on poor
Bertha, if one might judge from the crimson that
burnt on her fair cheeks, as she felt, but did not meet
his gaze. :

“It was one of those stilly mornings when the
tardy sea-breeze seems to have over-slept itself, for
no trace of its path was yet on the quiet sea, and it
was eleven o'clock. To escape the heat of the
sitting-room, we strolled into the back piazza.
Estelle was busy with some fancy-work preparation
for her bridal dress, and Bertha and I were now
alone with Captain Manley.
THE FORSAKEN BRIDE. 99

‘‘ My courage almost forsook me, and then, even
then, in my worse than heathen ignorance, I breathed
a prayer to the negro’s God for help.

‘“‘T quietly told Captain Manley all that had
passed, and how Bertha had revealed to me the
secret.

‘‘ His passion was unbounded, and in his language
to the trembling girl he utterly forgot the restraint
which the etiquette of civilised life imposes on the
language and conversation. He accused her of
duphcity, and even falsehood. It was useless to
argue with him. He would not allow me to propose
my plan.

“Oh, how the poor girl seemed to writhe under
his blighting influence. Forsake him—turn from
him—no; it seemed to me as if even his dark frown
she valued more than another’s smile. She attempted
to hold his hand, but he roughly threw her from him.
No word of murmur passed her lips; she felt that
she alone was to blame.

““*T have deserved it all,’ she said; ‘I should
have told you at first I could not agree to your
proposition.’

‘Well, in a day or two, he seemed sternly recon-
ciled to his fate, and when my father proposed that
both sisters should have the same bridal day, Captain
Manley calmly acquiesced in the arrangement.

L 3
100 THE FORSAKEN BRIDE.

‘“‘ His look spoke of anything but happiness, and
one evening, when he sat with Bertha at his side, I
rallied him on his dejected appearance; he turned
hastily from me, and, stern as he was, I found I had
surprised him almost to tears.

“‘ It was the evening before the day appointed for
this double wedding that I observed Bertha had been
weeping. Princess had remarked it too.

‘“« «Young missis,’ she said, as she loitered in the
piazza, with the store keys in her hand, ‘ you neber
see big tree, how ’trong him ’tand, till the poison
creeper hug him and hug him till him die.’

“1 needed no explanation. One glance at Bertha,
who was thoughtfully sitting in the opposite piazza,
sufficed to solve the little parable. I thought of my
sweet sister as some six months before she had been,
one of the happiest amongst us, the beautiful though
fragile tree, and I well knew it was this ill-fated
attachment that had coiled round her young heart,
withering the fair boughs of youthful gladness, and
blighting the green leaves of hope.

“‘ But wherefore was she thus sad? In a few
more hours would not the bridal morning dawn on
the eastern hills? Estelle was in high spirits, and
it was only Bertha’s dejected appearance that caused
her to look at all serious.

‘“‘ Captain Manley had left for Kingston a day or
THE FORSAKEN BRIDE. 101

two before, and I thought he bid Bertha farewell
with much more sadness than the occasion war-
ranted.

‘Well, the thirteenth of January—the day fixed
for the nuptials of my two sisters—at length arrived.
Many guests were assembled at an early hour, and
side by side, in their elegant dresses, the two sweet
girls entered that apartment.

“Tt seems to me but as yesterday,” said the old
lady, as she looked in on the large hall, and for a few
moments was lost in thought.

“* Estelle’s cheeks were flushed, and her eyes more
than usually brilliant. The pale orange wreath
circled each fair brow, but Bertha’s face almost
rivalled in whiteness this delicate blossom. She had
much difficulty in preventing herself from bursting
into tears. This was, of course, attributable to the
excitement natural on such an occasion, but I felt
assured that anxiety in some way pressed heavily on
her.

‘Mr. Trevor was soon at Estelle’s side, and then
the clergyman arrived; for marriages in those days
were generally performed by special license in private
houses.

‘ Where could Captain Manley be? Various were
the surmises as to the probable cause of his detention.
Bertha’s very lips grew white, but she was altogether
102 THE FORSAKEN BRIDE.

uninterested in the inquiries, as if she knew that all
search for Captain Manley would be useless. We
persuaded her to take a little wine, for she could
scarcely stand.

‘“‘ Messages were sent to Spanish Town, Kingston,
and Port Royal, and when in the evening no tidings
could be heard of Captain Manley, my father led
Estelle forward, and in a short time she was the con-
tented, though I cannot say rejoicing, bride of Mr.
Trevor, for the sadness of the party was universal.
No one could look at Bertha, Even the old rector,
who, I am sorry to say, was a very worldly-minded
man, was softened into unusual seriousness.

‘¢ Bertha was very calm, if we can call that com-
posure which was, as it were, the marble stillness of
despair; and but for an occasional sigh, as if her very
heart would break, a stranger never would have
guessed the intensity of her suffering.

‘‘The bridal pair left us, and one by one the
guests dispersed. Bertha retired to her room—to
her bed.

‘“Oh, how she needed comfort, heavenly comfort,
and I knew not how to give it to her. Strange as it
may seem, that old African housekeeper was the only
one amongst us who could offer anything like con-
solation.

‘¢ ¢ Massa, Jesus Christ,’ she would say, ‘is gone
THE FORSAKEN BRIDE. 103

away for true, but Him send the Holy §pirit to
comfort. Missis must keep a good heart. God no
’tand behind cloud to see if rain do good.’

“But she was speaking of what we then knew
nothing. The natural man perceiveth not the things
of the Spirit of God.

“Towards morning Bertha fell into a troubled
slumber, and the old woman, thinking that I, too,
was sleeping, prayed aloud at our bedside. Her negro
dialect was strong, and her gestures and tones wildly
earnest.

“Truly she wrestled in prayer with her God
for my suffering sister. In her own language she
asked that a ray of heavenly light might pierce the
darkness of this sorrow, and she was peculiarly
anxious that not from any worldly source of consola-
tion, but from God himself might spring my dear
sister’s comfort. And then this faithful creature told
us of peace, that earthly trouble had not power to
mar.

‘‘ The next morning Bertha was in a raging fever,
and for some hours her life was in imminent danger.
Her beautiful hair was all cut off, and as the long
locks fell around, the faded orange flowers were
clinging to the dissevered tresses.

‘Old Princess was invaluable as a nurse, and by
104 THE FORSAKEN BRIDE.

the blessing of God our precious sister gradually
recovered.

“It was from this negro servant that I received
my first impressions of religion. It was indeed
affecting to hear her explaining the simple doctrines
of Gospel truth.

‘“‘ We had accomplishments, and what the world
calls desirable knowledge. We had, as it were,
gathered for our store fragments of glittering glass,
whilst this simple creature being divinely guided,
had taken hold of the pearl of great price, and placed
it in her bosom.

“She had met with a man of God, a faithful
missionary, and he had set the light of truth before
her with his Master’s encouraging message, ‘ Believe
and live,’ and who knows where the bread thus cast
upon the waters may, in after days, spring up.
Little did that ambassador of God think that we,
through her, were to be warned of our danger, and
arrested in the broad path that leadeth to destruc-
tion.

‘ But so it was: from day to day this old negro
set before us the mercy of God in Christ J esus, and
dwelt much on the satisfying nature of true religion,
saying that earthly friends and earthly resources
could never heal the wounded heart.
THE FORSAKEN BRIDE. 105

“All this, I must tell you, she expressed in that
original way so peculiar to the negro.

“« “When young missis bruise him arm,’ she would
sometimes say, ‘ him put plantain leaf, but when him
heart cut, plantain leaf no reach there. No, no, >, Massa
Jesus Christ’s love only cure that.’

“Her affectionate concern for Bertha’s spiri-
tual state was most touching. She had herself
been so refreshed by the waters of life, that she
longed that my poor sister’s troubled soul should
wash and be cleansed in the same heavenly stream.
Her memory was stored with texts, which she told
me she repeated every morning, lest she should
forget them, for she could not read.

‘“* Blessed be God,’ said the old lady, ‘the glad
tidings of salvation are now more generally diffused
throughout our island, though we have dark corners
still, which are full of the habitations of cruelty, but
at that time, though we were professedly a Protestant
people, no Romanists could have dreaded religious
instruction for the negro population more than we
did.’ Princess carefully concealed her bible, for
although, as I have before said, she could not read,
the very sight of it seemed a blessing to her.

‘‘ I promised, however, daily to read it to her.

‘““¢Then me live to see this day!’ she exclaimed.
106 THE FORSAKEN BRIDE.

‘Him no forget old Princess,’ and breaking out into
the language of the Psalmist,—‘I will sing of the
mercies of the Lord for ever,’ she said, then over-
come by her grateful feelings she burst into a flood of
tears.

‘‘ Princess was a beautiful example of the satis-
fying and sustaining power of religion. As far as
this world was concerned, an uncouth, half-civilized
being, a slave in a foreign land. What comfort,
what hope had she? The consolations of the Gospel
were with her, and her hope was full of immor-
tality. A despised, illiterate African, yet her soul
magnified the Lord, and her spirit rejoiced in God her
Saviour.

‘‘T am sure she sometimes forgot all around her,
as her soul communed with Him who is invisible.
Many were the similes and simple arguments which
she used to convince Bertha that only in Christ could
her weary soul find peace.

‘“* Look, missis, at the big sea bird, how him fly
from wave to wave, him hab no rest till him get into
rock-hole,’ and we knew she meant that that rock
was Christ.

‘Slowly our poor Bertha recovered her strength,
but she came amongst us again an altered creature.
She had prayerfully studied the Holy Scriptures,
THE FORSAKEN BRIDE. 107

she had learnt that whom the Lord loveth he chas-
teneth, and in her present trial she saw that he was
dealing with her as a child.

‘She confessed to me, that when Captain Manley
had bid her farewell, he had said that in all probability
they would never meet again, and that it was in
compliance with his parting injunction that she had
consented to dress herself as a bride, when she too
well knew Captain Manley would not appear on that
day. There was something dark in his history,
some depth that we could not fathom, but the barrier
of divine mercy had saved Bertha from the pit of
destruction, and we could only abundantly utter the
memory of His great goodness whose name is
Jehovah, and who is the Most High over all the
earth.

“We were not, however, without our trials. My
father insisted that this heavy sorrow had affected
Bertha’s reason, and he compelled us both to join in
the giddy round of earthly frivolity.

“‘ As I retrace our path here,” said the old lady, “I
cannot help feeling what especial cause we have for
gratitude to Him who upheld us amidst surrounding
difficulties.

“Bertha had a peculiarly attractive appearance,
and a gentle and winning manner, and now that her
spirit was enlightened by Divine Grace, there was a

M
108 THE FORSAKEN BRIDE.

fascination about her that few could withstand. She
did speak the word in season to many, and in eternity
only may we learn the blessed results of her labours
of love.

‘‘ [married Mr. Simmons some few years after the
events of which I have been speaking, and my patri-
mony was this country residence and the lands
attached to it. Bertha, after our father’s death, took
up her abode with us. Estelle often came to see us,
but her visits were short. The world was her idol,
she lived engrossed by its cares and pleasures, and
died, I fear, without a knowledge of a better and
enduring substance.

‘¢ How I have outlived them all!” said the old
lady, as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

‘¢ Princess died at a very advanced age, resting, in
the most childlike security, on Him who had fed her
all her life long. Doubt had no place in the simplicity
of her belief; she took hold of the promises, and
bound them as a breastplate on her heart, and as she
breathed her last in the same sweet spirit of confiding
trust, I could not help thinking of those words,—
‘He that is greatest among you, let him become the
least.’

‘“ Bertha lived many years after that sad bridal
morning.

‘We never more heard of Captain Manley, but
THE FORSAKEN BRIDE, 109

my sister always spoke of her bitter trial as having
been sent in love to draw her back from the danger-
ous career of worldly enjoyment.

‘Weare told to keep the heart with all diligence,”’
said the old lady, ‘‘ and my experience of life has con-
vinced me, that even when Christians allow earthly
affection to stand in the way of daily communion
with their Redeemer, whenever they suffer plans of
future earthly happiness to interfere with that first
secking of the Kingdom of God enjoined in Scripture,
sorrow, in some shape or other, is sure to arrest their
steps; they are reminded by the sudden calamity, or
bitter disappointment, that they have no continuing
city here, and happy for them if they are thus driven
back again to seek for the rest that remaineth for the
people of God.”

‘The old lady’s tale was finished, and as I looked the
next morning at the names on the window, I could
not help feeling that there were events in real life
more touching than fiction could paint them, and I
prayed that the sweet home love I was then enjoying
might not draw me from my God, but that I might,
constrained by his mercies, dedicate myself more
entirely than ever to his service.

M 2
110 THE FORSAKEN BRIDE.

I returned to my duties in the Port Royal moun-
tains, and for two or three months we heard nothing
more of Grace Simmons, when one evening, just as
Mrs. Scott and I were taking an early tea, we were
surprised by a visit from Mr. Simmons, and his
mourning dress told us what he had scarcely power
to communicate.

Yes; dear Grace had fallen asleep; she had
entered into the joy of her Lord. To the last she
had no fear.

‘‘ Tt would be dreary,” she said, ‘‘ but my Saviour
walks beside me, and the shadows disperse at his
presence.”

He then, with much humility, told me that he
now desired to serve his daughter’s God. He con-
fessed that throughout life other Lords had had
dominion over him, but that the peace he had wit-
nessed in his dear child’s dying chamber had con-
vinced him of the value of that treasure which,
hidden in the field of worldly a ee he had
hitherto so madly neglected.

I thought of the seed cast on the waters long, long
ago. J thought of the faithful old negro, and I
remembered that they who turned many to righteous-
ness should shine as the stars for ever and ever.

“ But look, my dear young friends,’ said the
Mountain Pastor, ‘how magnificently the moon is
THE FORSAKEN BRIDE. 111

rising behind those dark mountains. It is getting
late. The night-blowing jasmin is almost oppress-
ing us with its strongly perfumed breath, and you
must be weary of my long tale, even though I have
told you of some whose life was fragrant, and whose
end was peace.”’
CHAPTER IY.

Herollectinns of a Yeor in Spanish Com.

I can never forget that cathedral church. During
the early sacrament, what a soft light stole through
those windows, whilst the birds seemed to join in
our thanksgiving, and poured forth a choral hymn of
praise.

Then the morning service, when the church was
crowded, and the unruly sea breeze swept the wide
straw hats from many an old woman in the central
aisle.

A lady and gentleman I noticed; very quiet and
attentive they were. He was a handsome man, and
there was an earnest anxious look on the face of his
young wife that more than once attracted my atten-
RECOLLECTIONS OF A YEAR IN SPANISH TOWN. 113

tion. They were regular attendants every Sabbath
morning, and I was interested about them, I can
scarcely say why.

Not many days after my return from Lemon Grove,
and whilst I was doing duty for a dear invalid friend
in Spanish Town, a negro boy made his appearance
at my door, stating that Mrs. Raymond was anxious
to see me.

‘‘ Massa must come soon,” he said, and then in
a moment he was gone, even before I had time to
learn Mrs. Raymond’s address.

I lost no time in setting off, asking as I went for
direction.

I found that Mrs. Raymond lived at Miss Bell’s
hotel or lodging house; and as I was slowly ascend-
ing the stone Staircase, an old negro woman having
ascertained that I was the minister, conducted me to
a sitting-room opening on the back piazza.

The strong sea breeze was tossing about the boughs
of a large mango tree close to the window, and ruth-
lessly scattering in the dust the delicate blossoms of
the south sea rose that was seeking to twine itself
round the fragile frame-work of the piazza doorway.
Thus, I thought, the human heart will cling to what
is weak as itself, till the blast of death tears the
hold away.

I heard some one almost noiselessly approaching,
114 RECOLLECTIONS OF

and looking up, I at once recognised the lady who
had been so regular in her attendance at church. I
put out my hand to her, and was just going to speak,
when, with a look of wild alarm, she held up her
finger, as if to entreat me to be silent.

Her appearance on this our first meeting is still
vividly before me. Her long dark hair was all un-
bound, and fell in disorder about her shoulders. Her
complexion was sallow, but her eyes had a radiance
that I have seldom seen equalled, although despair
bordering on distraction was clearly visible in her
sorrowfully expressive glance. It was as if grief
had kindled the fire, that gave the painful brilliancy
to her look. Her white dressing gown was carelessly
put on, and she wore no shoes. I think she had
altogether forgotten this omission. Her whole mind
was evidently absorbed by some consuming grief.

“Hush,” she said, “it would frighten him if he
knew you were here.”

«Compose yourself, dear lady,” I gently said, ‘of
whom are you speaking ?”

“Do you not know that my husband is dying a
she replied. ‘‘ He asked for some one to pray with
him; I tried, but all in vain. Long ere this I should
have sought pardon for him, Mr. Scott. Mrs. Miller
told him that he had never done any harm to his
neighbours, that he had often taken the sacrament,
A YEAR IN SPANISH TOWN. 115

and that he was sure to go to. heaven. This was all
wrong, terribly wrong,” she continued, “‘ There is
none that doeth good, no not one.’ In Christ only
we have forgiveness of sins through his precious
blood; but I had not courage to tell dear Edwin
this, and now his thoughts are clouded. Oh, what
shall do?” she continued with vehemence. “‘ Would
to God I could die for him !”’

I thought of Mr. Walker, and how unloved and
uncared for he had passed from life,

Then she took me by the hand, looking all the
while, if I may so express myself, as if her thoughts
were not with her—as if they had never left the
room where her husband lay. She led me gently
right into his presence, although a few moments
before she had feared to let him know that I was in
the house. What a wreck was there! How rapid
had been the progress of disease! This was Wed-
nesday, and on the Sunday he had twice attended
the cathedral church, looking so strong in health, that
one would have supposed it would have taken a
longer time, even for fever to accomplish such a
work,

He looked restlessly at me, and, I thought, per-
ceived there was a stranger in the room, but it was
evident his mind was wandering.
116 RECOLLECTIONS OF

Mrs. Raymond knelt solemnly at his bedside, and
literally drew me on my knees.

All this passed so hastily, that I felt a little con-
fused.

‘‘ Behold the Lord’s hand is not shortened that it
cannot save, neither is his ear heavy that it cannot
hear,”’ I said.

In an instant intelligence returned to his wild
suffering face—bright living intelligence—‘‘ Repeat
that again,” he whispered.

I complied with his request, and added, ‘ Call
upon me and [I will answer thee, and show thee
ereat and mighty things which thou knowest not.
Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be
saved.”

He put out his hand to me and smiled, and then
closed his eyes, which he never more opened.

Finding that I could say no more, I stole out of
the room, and I was told he breathed his last that
night. |

When I returned home I was oppressed by a
weight of painful feeling that was overpowering.
It is true I had at this time been little more than a
fortnight in Spanish Town; with this plea I tried to
stifle the upbraidings of conscience, but it would not
do. ‘Time had been given me to rescue, perhaps, an
A YEAR IN SPANISH TOWN. 117

immortal soul from destruction, and had I been
faithful to my stewardship? I had been a watch-
man in the house of Israel, but oh! had I not been
sleeping at my post? It is true I had sounded the
trumpet, I had declared from the pulpit Christ and
him crucified; but when the sheep had wandered,
had I searched for them on every high hill? Had I
sought at their own homes my flock, and endea-
voured to strengthen that which was weak, and to
bind up that which was broken?

Mrs. Raymond in her despair seemed to stand
before me. Had I been acquainted with her at the
first approach of her husband’s illness, we might
have prayed together, and Jesus might have stood in
the midst of the two or three assembled, and whis-
pered peace,

I had often expressed my disapproval of the
anxiety that would send for a clergyman as disso-
lution approached, as if from his very presence there
was transmitted to the departing soul a passport to
heaven ; but in the present instance how deeply was
I to blame! I might have been their friend when
the voice of joy and health was in their dwelling,
and then when sorrow came, I could have spoken of
the brother born for adversity.

If ever I felt the stings of remorse, it was on this
occasion. Oh! how earnestly have I since endea-
118 RECOLLECTIONS OF

voured to be instant in season and out of season,
seeking to make all those my friends to whom I was
sent with the message of reconciliation. Never now
do I see a new face in my church without endeavour-
ing tc become acquainted with the stranger. In very
many instances I have been cordially and kindly
welcomed. With some, though at first coldly re-
ceived, the ice of indifference has melted before even
the feebly-reflected rays of Divine love; and I be-
lieve that in only two instances I have been ungra-
ciously and determinedly repulsed. My own heart
has been refreshed as we communed together of
sacred things. ‘How precious are thy thoughts
unto me, O God; oh, how great is the sum of
them !”

Mrs, Raymond’s sister, Miss Selby, arrived from
the country, and they took lodgings very near us.

Poor Mrs. Raymond was broken down by grief.
Over and over again she would say, “Oh! I should
have warned Edwin of his danger; I might have
reminded him that his attendance at church was a
sweet proof of his affection for me, and then I might
have spoken of his love, who said, ‘Hallow my
Sabbaths, that they may be a sign between thee
and me.’”’

Miss Selby during these conversations would sit
looking most reproachfully at her sister. On this
A YEAR IN SPANISH TOWN. 119

occasion I remember she said, “I always told you
so, Mary, I knew you would one day bewail your
conduct.”

But I must observe, that this was a favourite ex-
pression of Miss Selby’s. If anything went wrong
she would immediately remark, ‘‘I said so, I told
you you would never succeed.”’ If the most trifling
accident occurred, she never lost the opportunity thus
afforded her of assuring you that she had cautioned
you on the subject. If the dinner were late, she had
told you, at least so she would have you understand,
that Sambo was becoming very idle; or if the tea
were not good, she had some little while before re-
minded you that the water did not boil. Strange
that no one ever remembered to have heard her fore-
bodings of approaching misfortune ; but for the sake
of peace, no one, as far as I can remember, ever ven-
tured to hint that there might be some mistake in
these often repeated assertions.

There she would sit, resting comfortably in the
brown arm-chair, with her worsted work, which en-
gaged much of her time, I had almost said of her
affections, for most certainly there were no abun-
dant outflowings of these on those around her. How
cleverly she would find out the weaknesses of others,
of which they were themselves ignorant. And if we
could have peeped into her mental memoranda, we

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120 RECOLLECTIONS OF

should have found sundry items there of the besetting
sins of her neighbours.

If she met with those who were altogether worldly
she was disappointed, for she had not the fragrance
of Christian love, which gives to the truth a sweet-
ness that often makes it endurable even to a de-
termined opposer.

In such cases she could do nothing, but was
silenced by the angry or profane remark. Unfor-
tunately it was always the timid believer she dis-
couraged—the bruised reed, that but for one greater
than she, she would have broken.

It has sometimes been a matter of perplexity to
me that such characters as these should be permitted
to get, as it were, within the pale of the professing
Christian church. Miss Selby had taken up her lot
with the people of God; she had in a great measure
conformed to their manners, she consented to their
doctrines, she would in a moment discern what was
strictly evangelical, and immediately detect any lean-
ing towards ideas which, in the present day, we
should say savoured of Tractarianism. Her de-
meanour was discreet, her expressions were Scrip-
tural; yet lacked she one thing—the spirit of love,
the spirit of God.

How often have I heard her eagerly descanting on
the impropriety of wearing a rose-bud in one’s
A YEAR IN SPANISH TOWN. 121

bonnet, trampling all the while on that ornament of
a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God
of great price.

I never should have thought so much of Miss
Selby, had I not been continually made uneasy by the
conviction that the little world around us looked on
her as a Christian. But experience has taught me,
that it is needful for us to have some such as these
amongst us, otherwise we should grow too secure in
our own little enclosure; we should imagine that
our church was our safety, forgetting that our
strength was alone in the Rock of Ages.

At the end of one of the principal streets in
Spanish Town, stands an old house, in the midst
of a dilapidated garden, where a solitary scarlet
cordia tree still blooms radiantly, as if to laugh at
time? That spot is to me fraught with the memory
of other days. One would scarcely believe what a
look of elegance there once was about that place.
A yet @eau played in a fountain which was situated
in the midst of the garden, and as you sat in the
wide and shadowy piazza, it was refreshing even to
look at those sparkling waters. The banks around
were very green, and the flowers in that neighbour-
hood grew so luxuriantly, that already they were
clinging to the stone steps for support, like human
affections unable to flourish alone. The pillars of

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122 RECOLLECTIONS OF

the piazza were beautifully covered with elegant
creeping plants — the wild jasmin, the English
honeysuckle, and the wax plant. Just below was a
fragile English pear-tree blossoming, oh, how deli-
cately amongst the stranger flowers there; the sun
was too scorching for it, and the dews too chilling.
I felt a pity for that tree when the rude sea breeze
tossed about its slender branches, and strewed its
white blossoms on the earth. But of the home party
—the living flowers, I must now tell you.

A most interesting family were the Courtenays,
and I continually found myself after the duties of
the day were over, assisting the Miss Courtenays to
water their rose trees, or discussing household
matters with their mamma, or conversing with Mr.
Courtenay, who was a handsome aristocratic looking
man, with a warmth of manner that made you feel
at once at home with him. He had a great deal of
what is called tact in society, always suiting his con-
versation to the time and circumstances of the case,
finding out, as it were intuitively, the subjects on
which you were most at home, and assisting you to
run on fluently on your favourite topic. There were
certainly a few points on which he was unreasonable,
—very unreasonable. If you differed from him on
politics, he forgot his usual urbanity, and would
violently oppose. He had no notion of argument,
A YEAR IN SPANISH TOWN. 123

although well skilled in anecdote. He was a most
entertaining companion. It made one sorrowful to
find that with real vital religion he was altogether
unacquainted ; and though from his courteous smile
and cheerful manner, you might on a first acquaint-
ance have imagined that peace was in his heart, on
more intimate association you perceived the restless
disgust, the unsated yearning that is ever the portion
of those whose souls are not satisfied in God.

There was a charm about that family which com-
pelled you, I had almost said, to love them. What
was it that made the lights in the hall seem more
cheerful than those of their neighbours? It was the
union and affection that bound together that house-
hold.

Look through those folding doors! That is Kate
the eldest daughter, who sits at the table reading.
Inadvertently I ask her who was the donor of the
beautiful volume in her hand, and the sudden flush
mounts to her fair forehead, whilst the next moment,
bending down her head, she contrives to conceal her
face from me by the profusion of her clustering curls.
I think she murmured it was the gift of a friend,
and I saw the proud smile on her father’s face. He
had overheard my query, and I afterwards discovered
that Kate was betrothed to a gentleman highly con-
nected and of large property.

nN 3
124 RECOLLECTIONS OF

Jessie, the youngest, is sitting at the piano, and is
singing so softly and sweetly, that one is almost
afraid to breathe, lest they should lose a note. There
is a white rose in her jet black hair. How classical
her features are. What a wayward girl! She rises
abruptly from the instrument, and refuses to con-
tinue her song. Her father coaxes her, but no, she
does not yield, but takes her happy seat on his knee
in all the petted wilfulness of a playful spoiled child.

I have often wondered at the influence I had in
that family. Did I use it aright? It was very
difficult to get at Mr. Courtenay by argument. He
tried, he said, to do his duty, and as for his imper-
fections, he trusted in the mercy of God! He had
no notion of the heart’s depravity ; he owned that
he ought more regularly to attend the evening wor-
ship on the sabbath, but then he persuaded himself
that as his weeks were busy, it was but natural he
should have a little quiet in his family on that day.
He had lured himself into the comfortable belief that
he might give life, health, and affections to the world,
und that He who sent his Son to suffer and to die for
rebel man would be satisfied with the lip confession
of a weekly service, with an acknowledgment of
general imperfection, and a vague acquiescence in
the merciful superintendence of a guiding Provi-
dence. Never did I more experimentally feel than
A YEAR IN SPANISH TOWN. 125

in the present instance, that Paul may plant and
Apollos water, but that God alone could give the
increase. I could not convince him, that renewed
by the influence of the Holy Spirit, we could so
delight in the law of God after the inward man, that
the frivolities and falsely-called pleasures of life
would cease to ensnare us, that once influenced by
love, we should count all things but loss for the ex-
cellency of heavenly knowledge. He appeared to
think me quite an enthusiast when thus I spoke,
but one to whom, in spite of these weaknesses, he
was sincerely attached.

I have sometimes regretted that Miss Selby was
intimate with that family. I am sure that her pro-
fession of religion, hanging as it were on her queru-
lous and unloving manner, threw a stumbling-block
in the path of Mr. Courtenay, which, O fearful
thought ! perhaps for ever kept him from journeying
towards the celestial city.

One evening, as I entered as usual that pleasant
piazza, I heard Mr. Courtenay in loud conversation
with Miss Selby, who walked with a much quicker
step than usual.

As I advanced, she turned sharply round on Mr.
Courtenay, and with a look of wrath, strangely in-
appropriated to the words she used, ‘‘If ye were
of the world,” she said, ‘‘ the world would love its
126 RECOLLECTIONS OF

own; but because ye are not of the world, therefore
the world hateth you.”

‘“‘The world would never love you,” rejoined Mr.
Courtenay, exasperated beyond measure at the hyste-
rical sobs of Mrs. Raymond, who had been suffering
under the rebukes of her sister.

Doth a fountain send forth at the same time sweet
water and bitter? I thought, as I looked at Miss
Selby. Can these perpetual outbursts of impetu-
osity, encouraged, nay, justified as holy indignation,
be really the fruit of that tree whose name is love?

I could not on this occasion refrain from speaking.
‘If God so loved us, we ought also to love one
another,” I said. ‘‘ And this commandment have
we from him, that he who loveth God, love his bro-
ther also.”

“‘ Yes,’”’ she sharply replied, “‘but we must not
love their sins; against these we must testify our
displeasure, and if they continue in error, we have
the highest authority that with such an one we are
not even to eat.”

“‘ Be careful, however,” I answered, ‘to discover
that it 2s sin against which you are carrying on this
warfare ; be careful clearly to ascertain that it is not
an opposing opinion which has so chafed you. May
we not be indulging in carnal resentment, pacifying
our conscience by the idea that it is the anger that
A YEAR IN SPANISH TOWN. 127

sinneth not? Look well to these things. If you
can put your hand on your heart and say, that the
glory of God is your object by thus withdrawing
yourself from the companionship of a loving sister
who has differed from you, I should say you were
acting sincerely, though erroneously. But why are
these associates generally thrown off when there has
been some disagreement? Why is the spirit of love
called upon to hide itself only, when se/f has been
agerieved ?”’

I had spoken more fully than I had intended, and
she certainly had listened far more patiently than I
had anticipated.

“Tf thine enemy hunger, feed him,” she said; “if
he thirst, give him drink. I would give my last
shilling to my sister, but I cannot hold out the right
hand of cordiality to one who has the most dangerous
opinions.”

I sighed when I thought by how many that text
had been almost used as an argument for continuing
in the spirit of unkindness, as if He whose name is
Peace meant the gift to come from a heart still war-
ring with its enemy.

During this conversation, Mrs. Courtenay had been
working with unusual alacrity ; but when Miss Selby
left the piazza she sighed heavily, and throwing
herself back in the arm-chair, whilst in her own
128 RECOLLECTIONS OF

peculiar way she pushed her little cap from her still
glossy hair,

‘‘T always feel as if a load were taken from my
heart,” she said, ‘‘ when Miss Selby leaves us.
There, child,” she continued, turning towards Mrs.
Raymond, and placing, with the greatest tenderness,
the poor sufferer’s head on her own shoulder, “ shed
as many tears as you like, it will relieve you.”

And I then ascertained that Miss Selby had been
vehemently accusing Mrs. Raymond of giving way
too much to sorrow.

Mrs. Courtenay was an elegant woman, lady-like
in the extreme, but all in her own way. She hada
very quick perception of the faults of others; and
oh ! how powerfully satirical she sometimes was, cut-
ting up unmercifully the foibles and affectations of the
society in which she moved; and yet all the while
preserving a look so gentle, and a manner so soft,
that you wondered such bitter sarcasms could escape
her lips.

On the present occasion she was much excited.
‘‘I don’t profess to be a Christian, Mr. Scott,”’ she
began,—and when she made this assertion I always
knew her temper had been unusually ruffled—< but
never,’ she continued, “‘ would I intentionally say
an unkind word to the sorrowful. There is Miss
Selby from morning till night talking of her reli-
A YEAR IN SPANISH TOWN. 129

gion, and yet crushing that which God hath
smitten. Methinks the very angels would weep if
they saw earth’s bitterness trying to ape the charity
of heaven.”’

And then the little cap was pushed to the furthest
extremity, and the glance of indignation yielded to
tenderness only when she turned and looked at the
pale face of her suffering friend ; for Mrs. Courtenay
had an affectionate heart, but it was amusing to ob-
serve how she was ever trying to conceal, with an
assumed air of indifference, this genuine warmth of
feeling.

‘“‘ These things, dear Madam,” I said, ‘‘ ought not so
to be. Too often we need sorrow ourselves, ere we
can sympathize with others. To mourn and yet to
love the hand that chastens, is by no means incon-
sistent with the Christian’s walk. Who can make
whole the heart that God hath bruised, or bind up
that which He hath stricken? Would that we
could see more gentleness in Miss Selby! We must
not, however, condemn a system because some erro-
neously follow it; we must not forget that God is
love, because those who perhaps are seeking to serve
him, (and my heart misgave me when I said this)
forget the charity, without which all else is value-

less.”’

Well, weeks passed on, and I continually met
130 RECOLLECTIONS OF

poor Mrs. Raymond at Mrs. Courtenay’s. I visited
her too at her own home, where she sat in her soli-
tude, remembering in the days of her affliction and
her miseries, all the pleasant things that she had in
the days of old. The Lord had, as it were, covered
her with a cloud, and given her up to sorrow, but
earnestly she hoped, and patiently she waited for his
salvation; and at length she was led to see, that
though he cause grief, yet that he will have com-
passion, according to the multitude of his tender .
mercies. The flower had been beaten down by the
tempest. We thought its stem had been rudely
snapped asunder, and that it could never flourish
again; but the sunbeams came forth, the rough
wind stays, and the plant gently rises, and shaking
the rain-drops from its leaves, unfolds to the rejoic-
ing sun.

Thus it was with Mrs. Raymond. Heavenly con-
solation broke in on the gloom, and she heard the
cheering accents,—‘“‘ Let not your heart be troubled.
In my Father’s house are many mansions.” And
then she learnt to smile! True, there was sadness
with it; it was sunlight struggling through many
clouds ; but light was there, and heavenly light too,
for she really was beginning to taste of the peace of
God which passeth all understanding, and already
she was doing something for her Master.
A YEAR IN SPANISH TOWN. 131

But how is this? one might at first be inclined to
enquire. She sits in her accustomed place quietly
as ever. We hear no discussions on different points
of doctrine. Mrs. Raymond still has the lowly spirit
that seeks to be taught. How then can she be doing
good ?

Watch her with Kate, as they stroll together in
that lonely walk at the end of the garden! They
are engaged in interesting conversation. Mrs. Ray-
mond is relating to her young friend the simple but
touching tale of Blind Bartimeus. Oh! if you had
heard the earnest way in which she dwelt on the
Saviour’s kindness, when she came to those words,
‘What wilt thou that I shall do unto thee?” you
would have felt that she had tasted of the pitying
love expressed in this tender enquiry.

Watch her too with Mrs. Courtenay! Again by
some querulous remarks Miss Selby has disturbed
the quiet of that household. Then it is that Mrs.
Raymond comes forward as peace-maker, as the child
of God !

I think I see her affectionate look now, as on her
knees in front of Mrs. Courtenay, whom she is
assisting to disentangle some knitting cotton, she
gently says, ‘‘ My poor sister is not well to-day, and
you know a sleepless night makes us all uncom-
fortable.’ And I thought Mrs. Raymond’s smile

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132 RECOLLECTIONS OF

never looked sweeter than when thus pleading for
others. She did not tell how her own lonely pillow
had been that night watered by tears, she did not
tell how she had wrestled in prayer that very morn-
ing, that she might not only submit to the will of
God, but cheerfully acquiesce in each trying dispen-
sation.

Onwards and onwards passed the weeks with their
little burdens of household cares, and their deeper
trials concealed from outward view—their strifes
and their affections—their joys and their sorrows—
onward rolled the stream of time, giving life and
freshness to the thirsty land, yet uprooting in its
resistless course the aged tree and budding flower,
and bearing them on to the ocean of eternity.

It was about this time that we began to notice
Mr. Courtenay’s altered look. His step had lost
its elasticity, and his cheeks were pale and sunken.
Although now but in his prime, he was a shattered
man. Some of the medical men asserted that he
had heart complaint, others that he was only ner-
vous. He had suffered from pecuniary losses, but
still his income was handsome, and affluence smiled
on his home.

One evening I was summoned in haste to Mr.
Courtenay’s, and with an undefined foreboding of
evil, which is sometimes permitted to take possession
A YEAR IN SPANISH TOWN. 133

of the mind in spite of our every effort to throw off
what we fear might be superstitious, I entered the
wide piazza, and never through a course of many
years have I forgotten the scene that I there wit-
nessed.

Mr. Courtenay was sitting in the Spanish chair
with his spade at his side, for he had been garden-
ing. His trembling wife was bathing his temples
in Eau de Cologne, and Kate, almost fainting, had
her arms round his shoulders. Jessie, childlike in
sorrow as in joy, was calling to him by the most
endearing epithets, and nestling his cold hand in her
warm embrace.

‘| think he seems better,” observed Kate, looking
appealingly at me, as if in confirmation of this effort
at hope.

I turned from her, for I knew he was dead /

Then the doctors came, and tried to take some
blood from his arm, but without effect. Why sought
we the living amongst the dead? He was far from
us all. The waters of eternity divided us. Neither
had he any more a portion in anything that was
done under the sun.

But how could we convince those loving ones
around him that this was really the case. They
would not believe us when we spoke of death. No,
he breathed—he moved—all would yet be well.

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134 RECOLLECTIONS OF

Kate was the first who comprehended the reality
of this affliction, and then her fears were for her
mother and sister. She allowed me to lead her into
the inner hall, and Jessie followed us, clinging to
me with a startled look, as if fear had coiled itself
round her sorrow.

I had for some time past thought that Kate was
seriously inclined. I now had an opportunity of
seeing that the work of grace, though hitherto un-
perceived by man, had taken deep root in her heart,
and silently watered by the dew of blessing from
above, was bringing forth fruit unto holiness. The
suddenness of this bereavement caused her quite to
forget her natural timidity ; keeping her arm round
her sister’s waist, she fell on her knees, and called
on the Comforter for aid. Oh! it was not as @
stranger, she approached her God! but, blessed
privilege, it was the cry of a trembling child to a
pitying Father—‘ Thou hast been my help,” these _
were her first words. ‘‘ Leave me not, neither for-
sake me, O God of my salvation.”

I am sure she did not remember that I was in the
room, and it was sweet to hear her asking for strength
for her bewildered sister.

That night of weeping! It has been one of those
solemn memories that the mists of many years have
had no power to shroud. It has stood vividly before
A YEAR IN SPANISH TOWN. 135

me in the merry time of enjoyment, whispering
‘‘ beware,’ whenever human affection has appeared
to be flourishing in its own security.

In long after years, when my heart has been low
and my spirit faint, the childlike trust of that dear
girl in her hour of woe has with rebuking voice said,
‘¢O thou of little faith!”

There we sat till the grey morning dawned, bring-
ing with it to those suffering sisters a fresher sense,
as it were, of their heavy loss.

A few short hours ago, and the voice of mirth and
of gladness had been amongst them ; now the spoiler
had made all desolate! Death had come up into
their windows! It was a day of darkness and of
gloominess—a day of clouds and of thick darkness,
as morning spread upon the mountains.

As I looked on Jessie’s face, and saw its touching
innocency of expression so shrouded in sadness, I

»._ thought of those words, ‘Bashan languisheth and

Carmel, and the flower of Lebanon languisheth.”
Then “Nanny,” the faithful servant of many

years, called me to see ‘‘ Old Massa.’ Already he

was in his grave clothes. With the love of flowers

so common amongst a simple people, the negroes had

strewed his narrow bed with jasmins and honey-

suckle. Roses too were there. Oh, what a con-

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136 RECOLLECTIONS OF

trast! Their deep rich hues against his sallow
cheek.

What would I not have given to have heard him
say that he left us clinging unto Jesus—that he had
laid hold of some of the promises—that the mists of
self-righteousness had been scattered from his soul
by the breath of the Omnipotent, and that Jesus the
beloved of the Father had stood before him, as the
Redeemer in whom alone he could find acceptance
with God. But all was silence now—the eternal
unbroken silence of death !

Poor Mrs. Courtenay! It was a difficult task to
administer consolation to her. She knew nothing of
the brook that flows by the wayside of the sorrowful
Christian pilgrim, therefore in this her hour of sad-
ness she could not even for a moment lift up her
head, She knew nothing experimentally of Him
who giveth his people songs in the night, and who
has so sustained his suffering children, that boldly
they have glorified God in the midst of the fires.

At this moment I see before me her emaciated
face, for sorrow had done its work, and her appear-
ance was greatly altered.

There she sat in the chair he had so lately occupied.
She never spoke of her sorrow, but tears that did not
flow stood glittering in her eyes whenever I made my
A YEAR IN SPANISH TOWN. 137

appearance. The husband of her youth was gone
from her, and it was night, dreary night in her soul.

Some weeks passed ; the world talked of her quiet
resignation, and she tried to persuade herself that she
acquiesced in the will of God.

I know the sudden death of one so dear to her
had awakened within her breast serious thoughts of
death, judgment, and eternity; but alas! as the
months passed on, these apprehensions became
weaker, and she ensconced herself in the vain secu-
rity of a harmless life.

If Lasked her to examine herself, to search into
her own heart, “I am not worse than my neigh-
pours,” she would reply. ‘In the sight of God I
know we are all sinful, but I never make the cruel
remarks that we hear from Miss Selby, and she you
know is religious.”

Here again was the evil influence of an incon-
sistent professor. When I pressed upon her forget-
fulness of the God in whom she lived, and moved,
and had her being—when I reminded her of her
entanglements in earthly affections, of the soul-
crippling cares of life, she would try, as it were, to
neutralize the effect of these charges, which her
conscience told her were true, by placing in the
opposite scale some good deed or kindly action, and
138 RECOLLECTIONS OF

she was an amiable creature; quite forgetting that
our best performances are in themselves as nothing
worth, being merely the evidence of that love to
God which causes us to seek to do those things that
are pleasing in his sight.

With her husband’s income Mrs. Courtenay’s only
support fled. The pleasant house, with its elegant
garden and carefully tended plants passed into the
hands of strangers. And it was melancholy to see
those dear girls in close lodgings, busy with their
drawings, by the sale of which they endeavoured to
support themselves and their parent.

Oh, what an unspeakable blessing it was, that ere
the evil day came, Kate had taken to herself the
whole armour of God. She is the strongest amidst
that party, by turns comforting her mother, and en-
couraging her sister.

But what is this? Kate—the contented Kate—
has lost her wonted smile; her heart is faint, her
eyes are dim with weeping. The packet letter is In
her hand; she has heard from him she so entirely
loves, and on the score of prudence, in consequence
of Mrs. Courtenay’s reverse of fortune, he breaks
off the engag@ment. Honour, truth, all are for-
gotten, and henceforth he says they must be as
strangers.
A YEAR IN SPANISH TOWN. lof

Be strong, Kate, be strong; there is one who
changeth not, He hath loved thee with an everlast-
ing love—he who is the same yesterday, to-day, and
for ever.

The whirlwind of this sudden affliction had passed.
over her with fury; and she, who a little while
before had been strengthening others, was now pros-
trated by the storm.

As I left her for the night, her convulsive sobs
were heart-rending.

“There is One greater than man, dear Miss
Courtenay,” I said, ‘‘ who earnestly remembers thee
still.”

I thought she looked gratefully at me, but she
made no reply.

There are many who speak deridingly of this
sorrow, but they are those who know nothing of
the depths of human affection.

Dear Kate! how did she stand, now that this un-
expected poverty had put him in whom she so im-
plicitly trusted far from her. Blessed be God, she
held fast the profession of her faith without waver-
ing; she leaned on her Saviour as she passed through
the dark waters, and it was no ideal peace that filled
her soul.

The world looked wise, and said she submitted
140 RECOLLECTIONS OF

because she was compelled to do so. Nay, there
were some who whispered, that pride kept her up;
but we forgive them, for they knew not the well-
spring of hope whence she drew supplies of com-
fort. Though gladness had been taken away from
her, and joy out of the plentiful field, she knew that,
not without cause, had her God done all that he had
done.

It is a noble sight to mark the Christian grap-
pling with the severe sorrow in the strength of One
who is mighty in the name of the Lord of Hosts, the
God of the armies of Israel. The angels stand by
and watch such a contest. The weapons of this
warfare are not carnal; the helmet of salvation—
the breastplate of righteousness—the shield of faith
—the sword of the spirit—all are in use, and as we
mark resignation calmly smoothing the disquieted
brow, as the garment of praise takes the place of
the spirit of heaviness, we look round on a scofling
world, and triumphantly exclaim, ‘Thanks be to
God, who giveth us the victory through our Lord
Jesus Christ.’’

And Kate’s smile returned, looking, I thought,
sweeter; for the twilight of chastened thought that
surrounded it, even as the heavens at sunset, are
more striking in their beauty than during the sunny
A YEAR IN SPANISH TOWN. 141

glare of day. Again, though with a trembling voice,
she joined in the evening hymn of praise :—

“‘ What though the fig tree languish,

What though the vine decay,

Though the dark olive’s beauty
Be fading fast away !

A Father calls his children
To bow before the rod ;

With his sustaining power
Our souls rejoice in God.

‘‘ How sweet to learn in sorrow,

All trustfully to stand,

To wait in utter darkness,
A Father’s guiding hand.

To wait, and hear the whisper,
‘’Tis I, be not afraid ;’

To dearn the Saviour healeth
The wounds that he hath made.”

And then I left Spanish Town. It was a sorrow-
ful parting; an unusual sadness took possession of
me.

Again I was at my pleasant mountain home. My
ministerial engagements—my pastoral duties occu-
pied my time as before; yet my thoughts were con-
tinually wandering to the little room in the narrow
street in Spanish Town. Kate had some connexion
with every thought. Her patient industry—her
chastened smile—her childlike confidence in her
142 RECOLLECTIONS OF

Heavenly Father, that, though painful to her, all
was right.

One evening in particular I recollect, wher I
must have been very intent on my musings, for old
Clarence had upset my little tea-tray, and had
actually broken my favourite cup, from which,
pachelor-like, I fancied my tea had a better flavour,
ere I was aroused to a sense of his presence.

‘Have I not been at home nearly a month,
Clarence?” I said, without regarding the fragments
of broken china in his hands, or the lake of tea in
which I was sitting a huge island.

‘¢ Yes, Massa,” replied the old man, ‘“‘ Massa no
been at home t’ree week, and old Clarence bring him
tea, and neber do like dis here before.”

The truth is, I had remembered it was time to
send the promised letter to my young friend, 80
smiling on Clarence, as if he had not been warring
with my favourite china, and telling him to bring
me any cup he liked, I hastily despatched, as I
thought, my evening meal, and had arranged my
inkstand and writing book quite to my satisfaction
on the yacea-wood table in the corner, when I was
reminded by Clarence that the guava jelly was un-
tasted, and the plantain untouched.

‘ Never mind, old man,” I said, assuming a busi-
A YEAR IN SPANISH TOWN. 143

ness-like air, as if to impress him with the idea that
trifles, such as eating and drinking, were things of

oment to me, “ to-morrow is post day, and I
have letters that must be written.”

I began, ‘‘ My dear Miss Courtenay ;” then with
my head resting on my hand, I was lost in thought.
I saw before me through the dark boughs of the
tamarind trees, the glorious sunset—I saw the white
datura peeping from its nook of leaves—I inhaled
its perfumed breath, and I well remember that I
felt a sense of loneliness I had never before expe-
rienced.

The mountains were enveloped in mist ere I broke
from my reverie, and then I continued my letter.
The next morning it was posted, and my anxiety
for an answer, which could not arrive before a week
had passed away, was oppressive. The sea-breeze
came, the sunny breeze, and rioted amongst the
trees every day, and shook the rafters of my little
house. Then came night with its gifts of dews and
sleep, and the glowing stars followed in its train.
Day after day passed, and never before had the week
seemed so tardily to advance.

The Sabbath came —the stilly Sabbath — and
if in spite of my clerical duties and long engage-
ments in the school-room some thoughts of the ex-
pected letter on the morrow did intrude, I prayed

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144 RECOLLECTIONS OF

that strength and heavenly hope might be given me,
to meet soberly and steadfastly the joys and sorrows
of every-day life ; for itis not only in the unexpected
good fortune or overwhelming affliction that we need
the strong arm of heavenly support, but it is in the
familiar occurrences of social life, in the chafing
trial or sudden delight, that it is good to hear the
whisper, ‘‘ This is not your rest.’

Another day, and the letter from Kate was in my
hand—so gentle—so erateful—breathing in every
line the spirit of genuine piety. Yet was I dissatis-
fied, I cannot tell why. I read it again and again,
only to feel more desolate than ever. !

Oh! how pleasant it would be, I thought, to have
a companion by my side, to drive with me in the
evening, or to enliven my morning ride by cheerful
conversation. I well remember how wistfully I
would sometimes sit and look at the handsome arm-
chair, a present from my godmother in England,
thinking how much its appearance would be im-
proved if some fair form reclined therein.

It was in vain that many youns ladies of my
acquaintance passed before my mental view, none
would do to grace my chair but the gentle softened
Kate, with her drooping head and sweet face, almost
concealed by clustering curls—with the spirit that
suffered long and was kind—with the heart that


A YEAR IN SPANISH TOWN. 145

though tenderly loving to the dear household band,
bore about with it an affection that kept in subordi-
nation all human love.

Earthly accomplishments have their fascination,
worldly courtesy has sts charm; but when religion
influences the actions, when Christian love, as the
day-spring from on high, dissipates the mists of
selfishness and worldly policy, then we carry about
with us a secret talisman, that compels even an un-
thinking world to stand still and admire, then are
we doing His will who has said, ‘“‘ Let your light so
shine before men, that they seeing your good works,
may glorify your Father who is in heaven.”

Time passed on. Another year was at its close.
I had once or twice visited the Courtenays ; and
now that mountain air was recommended for Mrs.
Courtenay, I suggested that the little family should
spend a few weeks at my rectory:

Those who have passed their lives in England
may be surprised that I should have made such a
proposition, but they must remember that there are
in Jamaica no hotels in the country ; neither are
there lodgings to be obtained for the convenience of
those who seek change of air. It is, therefore, no
uncommon thing even for a pachelor clergyman to
entertain a party of his lady friends ; and though
English etiquette may look scornfully on such an

Pp 2
146 RECOLLECTIONS OF

arrangement, many happy hours of social intercourse
are thus afforded to those who would otherwise be
subject to the dreariness of an almost unbroken
solitude.

Oh, how well I remember, though long years have
passed away since that happy time, the visit of those
dear friends to my solitary home; yes, through the
vista of memory that past stands out clearly before me.

Mrs. Courtenay is weary with her ride, and re-
clines on the sofa. Jessie in her childish and affec-
tionate way, asks my leave to make tea, and after
laughing at every flaw in my bachelor cups, as she
calls them, begins to rally me on my abstraction, for
you must know that Kate was really and bodily sit-
ting in my arm-chair.

I am afraid I behaved very badly on this occasion ;
but we all have our hours of weakness, times when
human affection has too much sway over the heart.

It was not till Kate promised to be mine, that I
was aroused to a trembling sense of the danger of my
own position. So sweet a boon had I received from
my God, that in the enjoyment of it I feared lest my
heart should be drawn from the Giver.

There was, however, a little interruption to our
happiness, which I was perhaps too selfishly en-
joying.

One evening, an unusual bustle under the cluster
A YEAR IN SPANISH TOWN. 147

of cocoa-nut trees which stood immediately in front
of our house, announced an arrival. Jessie starts
from the low ottoman on which, as was generally
her custom, she had been watching the crimson close
of day, and with a sort of semi-comic expression,
mingled, however, I must say, with a gleam of dis-
appointment, exclaims, ‘“ Miss Selby iF

We look at each other as if paralysed by the unex-
pected intelligence. I know not how it was. We
had never discussed Miss Selby’s character, but we
all intuitively feel that the spirit of disquietude must
follow in her track.

I do not make any observation but a sigh escapes
me as I leave Kate’s side to welcome Miss Selby.
My conscience too reproaches me with dissimulation,
as with an effort at cheerfulness, I lead our visitor
into the midst of our happy circle.

How glaring were her inconsistencies! She had
no appetite, but the roasted Guinea bird grew less
before her. She had not strength to sit up, and yet
during the first half hour of her sojourn with us, she
had perambulated both our halls, and discovered that
my book-case had a tottering foundation, and that
the frame-work of my very old mahogany clock was
unsound.

It was well Jessie’s roguish looks escaped her
notice. Indeed, had it not been for a beautiful pet

Pr 3
148 RECOLLECTIONS OF

dog, that this lady prought with her, I fear our
young friend’s intolerance of our new guest would
have been painfully visible, even on this the first
evening of her arrival.

Once or twice during this visit, our sweet home
happiness was invaded; but I believe the cloud that
darkened the sunshine of our Joy brought the fer-
tilizing shower, for Kate was strengthened in forbear-
ance, and Jessie learnt that she had a wayward heart
that was continually warring with the better prin-
ciple implanted there. I humbly hope by him who
has promised in his faithfulness to complete the work
which he has begun.

In memory’s land, that dear old room is still
visible to me. Kate sits with her head bent over
her work. Now she throws back her hair, and looks
up with an expression of unfeigned surprise at Miss
Selby, who, quite forgetting the meekness and gen-
tleness that attaches itself even to the profession of
Christianity, is taking me to task in the most un-
feminine way for allowing J essie to hum worldly
melodies, on my own place on the Sabbath day. It
was in vain I told her, I had known nothing of this;
it was to no purpose I assured her, I would have
remonstrated with my young friend, who, from
affection to me, if from no higher motive, would I
was sure never thus again have transgressed.
A YEAR IN SPANISH TOWN. 149

But Miss Selby was not to be silenced. As is the
case with many of these discord-loving tempers, she
had preferred a charge, and even were the matter ami-
cably arranged, all would be disappointment. The
eloquence of discontent, and the energy of excited
feeling, would have no field for action.

As we continue in conversation, I turn and look
at Jessie. The flush of indignation burns in her
cheeks, and mounts to her forehead, at being thus
accused by Miss Selby.

“ Don’t you think, Mr. Scott,” she said, with a
little unbecoming pride, ‘‘ that if the restriction put
by the Apostle on women as regarded speaking, had
extended to the drawing-room, as well as the church,
it would have been a good thing.” Jessie had no
respect for Miss Selby, and never was I more con-
vinced than in the present instance, that from the
very moment the Christian professor ceases to be
consistent, he ceases to be useful.

Miss Selby met this observation with a sharp
reply ; and Jessie told her that, at all events, melody
was better than discord. How far these combatants
in words would have proceeded, I know not, had I
not interfered.

‘‘ Jessie,” I said, and there was gravity in my tone,
for I was grieved at seeing one thus excited, whom
I was endeavouring to guide into the paths of peace,
150 RECOLLECTIONS OF

« the Sabbath is the Lord’s, every hour is his;’? when
we devote these days to his service, the Mighty God
has condescended to say, “They shall be a sign be-
tween me and thee.” Then I asked her if she re-
membered the little fable about humility, the lowly
violet that did not raise its modest head to recelve
the sun’s reviving glance, but a coronet soon glowed
on its leaves, for a sunbeam was so touched with the
humility of this gentle flower, that it converted the
dew-drop of night into sparkling diamonds.

‘ the great Redeemer’s jewels when he makes up his
own, you must now seck to possess the meek and
lowly spirit on which he has graciously promised to
look in tenderness and love.”

Jessie was an impetuous, but an open-hearted and
ingenuous girl, and as she acknowledged her fault
with sweet simplicity of manner to Miss Selby, whilst
the tears glistened in her dark eyes, she looked a
living illustration of the dew-gemmed flower.

Miss Selby received her acknowledgment with
proud condescension, saying she would forgive not
only seven times, but seventy times seven; and I
thought how much sorrow and suffering would per-
haps be necessary to infuse into her soul the spirit of
the little child, to lay the tyrant self prostrate in the
dust. :
A YEAR IN SPANISH TOWN. 151

How unloveable are such dispositions, and when
over all this irritability and peevishness the mantle
of religious profession is thrown, incalculable is the
mischief done to the cause of God.

Miss Selby seemed to carry about within her
breast a machinery for discomposing others, and in
the calm of a peaceful household this track on the
quiet waters was of necessity very clearly visible.

If Kate looked paler than usual, or if a shade of
anxiety brooded on Jessie’s brow, | well knew the
engine of disquietude that had been at work. She
had hinted to Kate that a wish to improve her cir-
cumstances must have led her to think kindly of me,
or she had thought there was unbecoming levity in
Jessie’s peculiarly artless and playful manner.

Miss Selby stood amongst us like the tree under
whose shade all green things droop, and I do not
believe that one of our party wore the aspect of sad-
ness when the time of her departure arrived.

She felt this, and attributed it to her unwavering
firmness and decision on religious subjects. Alas !
she groped her way in darkness, and talked of light.
She told us again and again of her trials, her tempta-
tions and her sorrows, but her blessings I fear they
were thrown out of the scale altogether. Oh, could
but some portion of Hermon’s dew have rested on
those ruffled feelings, the spirit of love would have
152 RECOLLECTIONS OF

unfolded to the moisture, and that selfishness so pro-
minent in her character would have been exchanged
for something of the mind that was in Christ Jesus.

And now you must think of Kate as a bride. At
the Cathedral Church in Spanish Town we were
married. Jessie was bridesmaid; my old friend, Dr.
Evans, officiated on that occasion. Mrs. Courtenay,
and a cousin of hers, Mr. Stewart, with Miss Selby,
and Mr. Raymond, completed the pridal party. Ido
not remember Kate’s dress, but I know that a real
fragrant wreath of orange flowers circled her pale
brow, and the tears fell fast on her trembling hand as
I placed the glittering circlet on her delicate finger.

Miss Selby, by the propelling power of some un-
controllable impulse caused a little discomfort on this
memorable day, but it was only a passing cloud.
The sunbeams of gladness were so vivid about us,
that the vapours of discord could not live in their
radiance. She only hoped Kate would be steady, and
not change her mind again.

She only wondered Mrs. Raymond was so cheerful,
for her own part, she had thought a wedding party
would be quite too much for her sister; and at
breakfast she plainly told me, she marvelled I had
chosen Kate; for that she saw no marks of decision
of character about her.

Shall I do away with all the romance of my tale,
A YEAR IN SPANISH TOWN. 153

if I tell you that the silvery-haired lady, who now
smiles on you, from that faded arm-chair, is no other
than the sweet Kate of long ago. Through evil
report, and good report—on the rugged road and on
the flower strewn path—through storm and calm—
through light and darkness, together we have jour-
neyed through this vale of tears, tasting, I am per-
suaded, in our somewhat solitary and secluded life,
far more happiness than is generally the lot of man.
Sorrows have visited us; again and again death has
broken the household chain, but we have been en-
abled to rest on our Saviour God; in the time of
trouble he has hid us in the pavilion of his love, and
we have found that he is a Sun and Shield, and that
blessed, thrice blessed, are those who put their trust
in Him.

Mrs. Raymond went on her way 80 quietly, that I
have sometimes seen the look of surprise on the face
of a Christian friend, when I have mentioned her
devotion of heart to her master, when I have told
how sorrows led her to turn her face towards Zion.
It is true she did not move in a sphere where she
was called upon to engage in any public duties ; but
ask of those who met her in the private walks of
life, and they will tell you of her enduring charity,
her unwearying efforts amongst the humblest of her
154 RECOLLECTIONS OF

dependents to speak of the Saviour’s love, and to tell
from her own experience of the peace that is the
heritage of the servants of the Lord.

She was taken off by scarlet fever, but such a
blessed testimony she left of his faithfulness who
has promised to walk with his children through
the dark valley, that I never think of her last hours
without feeling a calm steal over my soul.

To her humble lodgings in Spanish Town, I
hastened, at her request, to bid her farewell.

The room was very close, and the small bedstead
was placed at the window, from which through an
opening in the narrow street you saw the magni-
ficent mountains in the distance.

‘“‘ He is so faithful,” she said, whilst light not of
this world beamed from her eyes; ‘‘not one thing
has failed of all that he promised me;’’ and then with |
a smile more expressive of love and gratitude than I
can describe, “‘ if this be the valley,” she added, ‘it
is not dark.”

‘¢ Wonderful, wonderful,” she continued, looking
upwards. ‘Is all this for me? Do you not hear
that Voice, a great Voice, out of Heaven, saying
‘He will dwell with them; they shall be His people,
the former things are passed away.’”’

“What a great salvation is that wrought out for
A YEAR IN SPANISH TOWN. 155

sinful man,” she whispered. ‘Tell your people,
Mr. Scott, again and again, that the Lord is good:
blessed is he who trusteth in Him.”’

And then she would lie with her eyes closed as if
looking at the things we cannot see. Sometimes
suddenly she would say, “The glory of the Lord
doth lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof ;”
then after a pause exclaim, ‘‘ And his servants shall
serve him; and they shall see his face.”

“ It is pleasant,” she remarked, “to sleep when
one is weary; but to fall asleep in Jesus, who can
tell that blessedness,”—there was another pause—
‘such honour have all His saints,” she gently said.
‘‘T had no idea she was so near her end;” another
gentle sigh, and she was indeed on the bosom of her
God.

I love to think of that death-bed. I love to think
of the glorious end of one of the meekest and lowliest
of the Lord’s servants. The world had passed her
by, aye and the Christian world, too, deceived by
her retiring manner, had sometimes regarded her
with mistrust; but He who seeth not as man seeth,
had looked in compassion on her, and in the midst of
heavy earthly trial, had said unto her ‘‘ Weep not “t
then her heart’s wilderness became like Eden, its
desert like the garden of the Lord. Through much
trial the Comforter was with her, and at death He

Q
156 RECOLLECTIONS OF A YEAR IN SPANISH TOWN.

for whom she had counted all as dross, gently re-
ceived her into glory.

I looked at her face, pale in the sleep of death.
I thought of her, as some few years before when I
visited her in her first sorrow. I remembered her
as, at the early sacrament, she sat beside her hus-
band. Now she had rest, eternal rest, from the
days of adversity. Sanctified affliction had accom-
plished its mission. The Refiner saw his own image
reflected in His work, and took it from the furnace
of trial; therefore is she now before the throne of
God, and serves Him day and night in His temple.

Mrs. Courtenay and Jessie have long passed away,
and our pilgrimage is drawing to its close. The
shadows of evening are around us,’ but the star of
faith grows brighter on the {wilight sky. Goodness
and mercy have followed us all the days of our life ;
and now blessed be his name, we can look forward
with a humble but confident hope in the merits of
our Great Redeemer, to dwell in the house of the
Lord for ever.


CHAPTER V.

Belen ALoynarh.



In our journey through life we meet with some
who cheer a passing hour, we exchange a few words
of kindness with them, and then we part. Of such
we have a pleasant recollection it may be for a little
while, but like the phosphoric track, that is visible
only on the agitated waters, when the excitement
occasioned by their society is over, we think of them
no more. There are others, forced upon us by
circumstances with whom we must necessarily be in
continual association, yet there is but little sympa-
thy between us; and, if in compliance with the
injunction, to love as brethren, we endeavour to
make advances towards them, they remain as insensi-
ble to our efforts at kindness as wood to the load-
stone, or the massive rock to the passing air.
Q 2
158 HELEN MAYNARD.

Some few there are, however, with whom on a
' first acquaintance we are deeply interested, nay,
more, all that belongs to them, or is connected with
them, has a mysterious charm for us; we have dis-
covered, that on the vast sea of life, the same plank
supports us—that though the wave and cloud may
occasionally hide us from each other—though cir-
cumstances may separate us—though a long night
of sorrow may sometimes darken our intercourse,
yet still we are connected—connected by that mys-
terious but powerful attraction of mind with mind,
for which their is no accounting, and which it is
most difficult even when most expedient to control.
For my own part, I must confess, that on my
voyage through life, such associations have ever
been fraught to me with happiness, which, though
sometimes troubled and harrowing in its nature
has yet deserved the name, for I have taken
to my heart sympathy as a reviving cordial, and
I have sometimes been able very greatly to com-
fort those whose eyes mourned by reason of afflic-
tion.

From the first time that I became acquainted
with Helen Maynard I felt we were to be no com-
mon acquaintances. What was it that so drew me to
her? I cannot tell you. But, come on with me, dear
friends, and as I go over the past, some amongst
HELEN MAYNARD. 159

you will, I know, deeply participate in all that
interested me.

I must then introduce you to the family at Banff
Hall, for I was received as one of the household at
that beautiful spot, and were I asked what it is,
that sheds a halo of grateful feeling on my recollec-
tions of that tropic land, I should say the unaffected
warm-heartedness and genuine hospitality of the
inhabitants of Jamaica.

There is some richly wooded hill land, looking
down on Montego Bay, over which are thinly
scattered pens or villas. These are generally the
abodes of the town merchants, who after the heat
and burden of a weary day, are glad to breathe
the cooler atmosphere of their semi-mountain homes.

It seems but as yesterday my first ride to Banff
Hall in company with Mr. Maynard. Hedges of
the snowy jasmin fenced our path, and as we as-
cended, thousands of wild roses mingled their gentle
fragrance with the stronger perfume of that richly-
scented flower.

The atmosphere was soft and balmy, and the
amethystine hue of the heavens just ushered in the
fleeting twilight of a tropical evening.

‘Who is singing so sweetly ?”’ I inquired of my
friend, as we approached the carefully-tended

Qa 3
160 HELEN MAYNARD.

shrubbery which concealed from our view Mr. May-
nard’s dwelling.

“Helen,” he said, “‘my only girl.’ And then
we paused and listened to the song.

“ They tell me that earthly affection through life
With sadness is ever bound round ;
That the beautiful tree, though with loveliness rife,
Hath its root in a sorrowful ground.

“ Yet we pluck the fair blossoms, and dotingly press
The thorn-circled leaves to our heart ;
Oh! human affection, we prize thee not less,
All linked unto woe as thou art.”

It was whilst the soft cadence of her rich voice
was still on the air, that Helen came forward to
meet her father. She was very pale, and her
slight figure was almost childish. She had a pecu-
liar gracefulness of motion, and a sweetness of
expression about her mouth that was most attrac-
tive. Her deep blue eyes were really beautiful,
and so very dark, I at first mistook them for
black. I did not on this our first meeting notice
their dreamy shadowy expression that so struck
me afterwards, as if they were formed to ex-
press sorrow unutterable; but this look only rested
on her gentle face now and then, and when she
HELEN MAYNARD. 161

was perfectly at ease, it could not exist among
strangers. As I enter into all these details, I seem,
dear friends, not to be looking back into memory’s
faded picture-land, but the past becomes almost a part
of present life. There we sit in the wide piazza, now
Helen is entering with interest into details of busi-
ness, which can have no attractions for her, but for
her father’s sake. I feel creeping over me the
mysterious sympathy with that household, which
kindled into the warmest affection, and bound me
to them, till in their sorrows and their joys, I bore
no inconsiderable part.

Mr. Maynard was unusually intelligent for a man
of his profession. The silver and the gold possessed,
I am sure intrinsically no charms for him, but as the
means of educating his daughter, of filling his library,
of providing for his Helen the elegancies, nay the
luxuries of refined life; for the sake of these things
he valued wealth. Yes, in that distant island, on
the blue waters of the Carribean, far from the fire-
side, that the Briton prizes, far from the civilization
and advantages of the metropolis, we enjoyed social
evenings with minds unknown to fame, and yet of
no despicable magnitude. Sometimes a well in-
formed military or naval friend (and Mr. Maynard
was discriminating as regarded education) would
join us in the evening, and then we would be
162 HELEN MAYNARD.

studious or musical or conversible, as the presiding
inclination of the evening might determine.

Forgive me, dear friends, I am an old man pow,
and I cannot restrain my tears. Alas, alas, that
sorrow should quench all the gladness of that home-
circle, yet I must not repine.

It was sanctified affliction; the chastener drew
those dear ones to himself, and they now dwell
where the wicked cease from troubling, and the
weary are at rest.

But I must go on with my little narrative. Come
with me, then, and look at the dear old dining-
room, or rather at that part of the piazza in which
this evening meal was regularly taken. There, just
outside the venetians are placed the porous water-
jars, for, in Jamaica, ice was at that time a thing
unknown. ‘The wine bottles are put “in cool,”’ that
is, they are associated with these jars, clothed in
bags, which are well saturated in water. Wine is
not generally decanted in a tropical country, as by
this process it would lose much of its coolness and
flavour, and therefore in this deshabille it is placed
on the table. But the view beyond. It haunts
me yet. It is often vividly present with me on a
sleepless night! and the tones of those glad voices
I hear, and the whispering of the evening breeze to
the mountain cabbage; and then faces rise up before
HELEN MAYNARD, 163

me—those of the intensely loved—the long-de-
parted—and at such moments I am far from life ;
time seems nothing—eternity is all in all.

Clusters of orange trees were immediately before
us, then occasionally on the sloping wood land a date-
tree would gracefully stand, its arrowy leaves tri-
umphantly glittering in the red gold of sunset, to
which trees of a shorter growth could not aspire.
In the distant lowland that extended fo the sea,
there was a fairy avenue of cocoa-nut trees, each of
which looked no longer than our hand, and the neu-
tral tint floating on the atmosphere, and resting on
the mountains, deepened at that time of the evening
till it steeped the little bay in the richest purple.
And then the glorious Heaven, beyond those distant
mountains—now crimson—now gold—now preparing
their clearest softest blue for the reception of night’s
children, the stars; which came forth not timorously,
trembling through mist, but as if conscious that they
held no inferior part in the subduing power of such
an evening.

Helen sits at the head of the dinner table. At
first one did not perceive the depth of that father’s
attachment to his daughter. Between Mr. Maynard
and Helen a pleasant companionship had sprung up
of a tender and touching nature.

He had passed through some years of lonely
164 HELEN MAYNARD.

widowhood, and just as after a dreary day, you have
seen a bright line of gold on the western sky, so in
the evening of his life, a joy seemed to have opened
upon him in this increasing affection, and he little
dreamt, that it was to be shut in again and lost in a
stormy night of sorrow. But no rage of the elements
can hold back the light of morning, and no earthly
suffering can for one moment detain the tried and
faithful spirit from going forth at the Divine com-
mand, to enter into the joy of its Lord.

You must say a word to me, dear young people,
when thus I run away from my tale. You must
lead me back to Helen. Well, there she is. Dinner
isover. She has made her father’s sangree, and now
that she has become accustomed to me, she breaks
from her usual quiet, and becomes a very child in
playfulness with that dear old man. She would
provide him with spectacles and newspaper, and then
in her quiet sisterly way join me in the southern
piazza which was open; and as we looked at the
dark logwood trees on which the silvery moonbeams
trembled, she seemed pleased if I led the conversation
towards holy things. Again, the feeling of old times
comes over me. I participate in the spirit of quiet
happiness, which her very presence diffuses in that
household, and again the trembling anxiety seems to
take possession of me, the fear for our Helen, that
HELEN MAYNARD. 165

though sweetly consenting to religious doctrine—
though to a certain extent revering its precepts that
her hope and her strength were not yet fixed on the
God of Jacob. Itis true no heavy sorrow had rested
on her youthful heart, for even her mother’s death
had come upon her as the lighter grief of infancy,
but could she bargain on keeping the intruder from
her dwelling. She would speak of God as the All
Merciful; and of the Saviour even as the chiefest in
ten thousand; but this was more from what she read
than what she felt. Yes, dear Helen, I well knew
that in her daily repetition of the Lord’s Prayer she
did not realize the spirit of adoption—she knew no-
thing of the confidence, which in the common place
embarrassment or bewildering perplexity would send
forth the childlike and trustful ery of Abba, Father.
My chapel was scarcely a quarter of an hour’s ride
from Banff Hall. It was a romantic ride too, and
there was a depth of solitude around in unison with
the wildness of the scenery. A dilapidated place
enough was that chapel. The bats held evening
entertainments in the roof, and the owl hooted to its
mate from an aged cotton tree, that stood before the
eastern windows. My little church was no wild
ruin that added beauty to the valley in which it was
situated, but if the truth must be told from one
point of view, it had the appearance of a stable—
166 HELEN MAYNARD.

from another it looked like a barn, and even with
the gold of sunset streaming on it, it had a gro-
tesque and uncouth appearance.

Yet it was the house of God, the place of prayer,
and simple hearts were weekly gathered there, to
‘‘Give thanks unto the God of Israel, to bless the
name of the Lord.”’

In spite of its unpicturesque appearance and dingy
walls, I have pleasant recollections clinging to that
spot— happy memories of peaceful Sundays — of
eheerful faces in the dear corner pew—the only
habitable one—with which the new church now
standing on that spot is altogether unassociated.

With much difficulty we at last established some-
thing to which we were determined to give the name
of Sunday School. Our scholars consisted of a very
few children, and a greater number of adults who
remained in church about an hour after service, and
there, assisted by Helen, who taught the younger
ones to read, I endeavoured to impress on the minds
of these simple people the leading truths of Chris-
tianity.

It would have been no bad subject for a painter,
the return of our mountain congregation to their
respective homes.

How many sturdy, rough-looking ponies, were tied
to those mango trees during our morning service.
HELEN MAYNARD. 167

After church, the negroes dividing themselves into
different groups, would discuss matters of immediate
interest to themselves, and sometimes even their
parson’s character would pass under review.

“My King,” exclaimed a thoughtful looking
African female, as she hastily despatched the last
morsel of her mango; for on this fruit is their
negro’s Sunday dinner generally made. ‘‘ Him word
sweet like sugar-cane, and him ’tand up ’trong like
aloe.”

Then a rougher looking woman remonstrated with
her friend.

‘Hi, no—him word no come down like gulley?
No ’tanding up against Massa Scott.”

What a bustle of preparation there was; indeed I
have found from experience, that in noise consists
much of the happiness of these people. Those amongst
the old men who were invalids would bind round
their heads two or three handkerchiefs, crowning
them with a spreading Panama hat, and with brains
thus sheltered, mount their little pony, altogether
unconcerned for the unprotected state of their feet,
which, even in rainy weather, stockingless, and
shoeless, they would carelessly place in their
stirrup.

Then a sturdy daughter would walk by the side of
her father, or a healthful wife by her husband, with

R
168 HELEN MAYNARD.

her unconscious but happy infant cradled snugly on
her back, in a manner peculiar to the African.

There they would go on their homeward way with
contentment in their hearts, even in those times of
slavery, that gave a ringing and joyous melody to
their laughter, and sent a brightness to their eyes,
which the caressed and flattered lady, in the midst of
freedom and luxury, has sometimes lacked; proving
that sorrow and happiness are more equally distri-
buted in this world than we imagine, by Him who
stayeth His rough wind in the day of the East
wind.

I do not think, that at this time there was any
shadow on the peculiarly sweet happiness of Banff
Hall.

In many families there is some sour temper that
has a corrosive influence on all, there is generally
some little drawback to the household happiness of
every day life. The servants are inattentive or un-
ruly, and the lady consequently dissatisfied. The
Master is imperious, and the spirit of fear is there—
expressed in the eager eye—the anxious look, and
the varying cheek.

But here were the faithful negroes of many years,
looking on their young mistress as a child that was
to be humoured and cared for; a father, whose love
unfolded in the sunshine of a smile, and not in the
HELEN MAYNARD. 169

petulant anxiety, that embitters affection. Alas!
alas! man makes no offering to God in return for
mercy. The landsman owns no blessing in the beacon
light, it is when we are on the rock-circled billows,
that we are reminded of its usefulness, and it is too
often from the depths of sorrow that we learn with
full purpose of heart to ery unto the Lord.

Helen became as a sister to me, and I often play-
fully rallied her on the marked attentions of the
Reverend Herbert Everton, a young clergyman, who
really was a true disciple of his Master’s, an earnest
devoted Christian.

At first she took it all in an unconcerned and
cheerful way, and would ask me if I wished her to
leave so happy a home.

It was about this time that I particularly observed
the watchful affection of Mr. Maynard for his darling
child.

How proud and happy he would look as she sat in
quiet converse with Mr. Everton. I remember, too,
that Helen’s sweet face often wore the thoughtful
shadowy expression, of which I have before spoken ;
and although she met her father with the same
earnest affection, the old look of trustfulness had
almost entirely vanished, and was replaced by a half
timid, half sorrowful smile. Once when her father
playfully asked her who was her favourite guest at

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170 HELEN MAYNARD.

Banff Hall, she looked painfully confused for a mo-
ment, and then sweetly replied: ‘‘ Mr. Scott, papa;”’
and the sisterly smile played on her lips.

Mr. Maynard had not perceived it; but I saw that
the cloud of anxiety, though at this time small indeed
as a man’s hand, had already risen above the hitherto
clear horizon.

Oh, had she then gone to the Redeemer to bespeak
as it were help for the future, had she at the first
threatening of the storm taken shelter under the
Rock of Ages, the waves of bitter trial would not so
rudely have beaten over her.

But, as is the case with many others, though she
could understand that in heavy sorrow, prayer must
be a relief, she knew nothing of that free access
to God reconciled through Christ, in every place,
under any circumstances, in the slight embarrass-
ment or the crushing woe.

One evening I accidentally surprised her in tears.

‘Miss Maynard,” I said, ‘‘ my friend, my sister,
I have for some time observed your unusual dejec-
tion. I will not inquire the cause. You are sad,
and I may speak to you of Him who loves to comfort
those who mourn.”

“Ah,” she replied, “‘if I were as you are, it
would be very different; but if I am ashamed to
own to myself, that my present cause of disquietude
HELEN MAYNARD. 171

is sorrow, how can I take the matter to Omni-
potence.”

“Because,” I replied, ‘the Gospel reveals to us
Jehovah as incarnate, as taking our nature upon
Him, that he might be Sympathiser as well as
Deliverer, that we might boldly make known every
perplexity to Him who is ever touched with the
feeling of our infirmities.”

She saw her father approaching, and hurriedly
whispered :

“Thank you, dear Mr. Scott; say no more to-
night.”

I seem to see her now before me, as in her own
earnest manner, in which there was a strange
mixture of sadness and playfulness, she went for-
ward to meet her father, accosting him in those
endearing epithets which seem so peculiarly to ex-
press the love of parent and child. Now she was
clinging to his arm, and now she was gently pass-
ing her soft, white hands over his pale cheeks. As
he drew her to his side on the sofa, and tenderly
looked down on her, how deeply he sighed, not, I
am persuaded, from anxiety, but from that fulness
of heart which is sometimes mysteriously overpower-
ing, even when we hold to our bosom the object
dearest to us in life. In long after years, that
father’s look has been with me. I have seen the

' R 3
172 HELEN MAYNARD.

orphan struggling without sympathy on her lonely
way, and have remembered it then.

I have watched the motherless boy plunge into
wild excess, unwarned and unreproved; and when
the world has been loud in its censure, that look has
been present to me, and I have sighed to think
how ready we are to blame the erring, and how slow
to lead him to One who would not only be the
euide of his youth, but the strength of his man-
hood—the stay of his declining years.

About a week after I had held this conversation
with Helen, she brought her work to the library,
and apologizing for invading a room, which the kind
hospitality of Mr. Maynard allowed me to consider
almost as my own, she seated herself on a low
fauteil near the door that opened on the piazza.

For some time she plied her needle with un-
wonted alacrity; at length, looking up at me with
a bright smile, which in an instant, however, gave
way to an expression of real sadness.

‘You will not help me out,” she said, “and so
now I am going to try if you will be indeed my
brother.”

I saw the sweet confidence of her nature was
struggling against her womanly reserve, and she
became very pale, “I so need your advice—your
prayers,”’ she added.
HELEN MAYNARD. 173

‘¢ What is the use of a brother?” I encouragingly
said, “if we are to shut up within our bosoms
every perplexity; indeed I shall need your counsel
some day, my gentle sister, when I bring you tidings
of my ladye love.”

The brightest smile I had ever seen beamed on.
her face, and then in a somewhat hurried and nerv-
ous manner, she informed me that Mr. Everton had
proposed to her, and that she had told him, as she
could not be his wife, she hoped he would not
mention the matter to her father; ‘‘ But I fear he
will,” continued Helen, the tears rolling down her
cheeks, “and then, papa is so fond of Mr. Everton,”
—and she paused, “and if he should press me to
consent, or rather, if he should earnestly wish me
to do so, my heart would break.”

This was strong language for Helen, and there
was an excitement of manner about her for which
the present perplexity seemed scarcely to account.
I felt, how much she just then needed a mother’s
counsel, and I could only say :

“Cast all your care on Him, for he careth for
you, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut
the door, pray to thy Father who is in secret; thus
only, dear girl, can you find guidance and peace ;
thus only will you be enabled to come amongst us
again with the echo of that soothing assurance still
174 HELEN MAYNARD.

falling on your ears, ‘as one whom his mother
comforteth so will I comfort you.’ ”’

It was as Helen had anticipated. Mr. Everton
had spoken to Mr. Maynard, and asked him to use
his influence in persuading his daughter to receive
him favourably.

I think I see Mr. Maynard now, the flush of a
painful excitement on his fine countenance, yet, the
expression of tenderness certainly triumphing over
that of ruffled feeling.

“A gentleman in every way worthy of you,
Helen,” he said, ‘‘so calculated to be your defence
against this unkindly world when I am called away;
highly educated too, and accomplished.”

Of his piety he did not make any mention, for he
had not been taught that the price of heavenly
wisdom was beyond rubies, and that all the things
that are to be desired are not to be compared
unto it.

Poor Helen! in dutiful love to her father, she
- was all unchanged, but obedience in the present
instance was a hard task. Nay, Mr. Maynard did
not insist—earnest entreaty was not command ; but
to one of Helen’s affectionate nature, far more dif-
ficult to resist than the stern requirement.

Suddenly a light burst on me. A Captain In-
gram, of the navy, had lately been a frequent
HELEN MAYNARD. 175

visitor at Mr. Maynard’s. I wondered I had never
before discovered what now seemed so clear to me.
A child might have seen how Helen valued his
society. He was an Irishman, talented, and what
at that time was not often the case with those of his
profession, he was a good classical scholar, and this,
with the sparkling vivacity which brightened his
conversation, rendered him a fascinating companion
—an entertaining friend. Yet he had withal a
straightforward manner, that was not bluntness, a
quick perception of the ridiculous, and strong powers
of imitation, so that when he was amongst us he
was the life of our evening party. Nevertheless,
when I thought of him as connected with Helen, an
overpowering sadness came over me, and it was
with a troubled heart, and an uneasy foreboding of
evil, that I sought my sister friend, and begged to
have a little conversation with her in the jasmin
piazza. A pretty place this was. It was open,
supported by pillars, round which the jasmin, the
erenadilla, and the red-Indian creeper twined in
close companionship, mingling their beauty and their
fragrance.

As if no gulf of years now separated me from
that past, I seem to be standing there. The purple
mountains are wrapped in the silvery halo of a tropi-
cal moonlight. A little to the left, the broad, white
176 HELEN MAYNARD.

sea is glistening, against which the trees just before
us stand in dark contrast, save when they fling
abroad their branches to play with the land breeze,
then they too catch, for a few moments, some of the
silvery rays. Helen, in her clear, white dress,
comes gently forward somewhat timidly, yet not
with all the reserve I had anticipated. As the
night on the dark-blue sky before us, lay the
shadowy look in her deep eyes; but the sister’s smile
is on her lips, and as she gives me her hand in the
confidence that belongs only to early youth, the
feeling of distrust towards Captain Ingram, is strong
within me.

‘J long to tell you,” were her first words, “ Cap-
tain Ingram is to speak to papa to-morrow, and to
ask him to consent to our union.”

“ Tt is then as I feared,” I sorrowfully said.

‘“¢ Why do you fear?” she eagerly inquired. “ Is
he not all that heart could wish?” In the simplicity
of her earnestness, too plainly shewing me how she
had given away, in its first freshness, all the affec-
tion of her unsuspecting heart.

“To speak faithfully, dear Helen,” I answered,
“‘] fear for you, because Captain Ingram lives for
the world, he is actuated by no higher motive than
the desire of its applause; of the word of God and
its promises—the throne of grace and its privileges,
HELEN MAYNARD. 177

he knows nothing, and what will you do with such a
guide, when the dark waters of Jordan are swelling
around you ?”’

Yet how could I blame that motherless girl! Had
her father not given his consent to her daily associa-
tion with Captain Ingram? and even now it was
not for the sake of religious principle that Mr.
Maynard preferred Mr. Everton for his daughter,
though I believe, that uninfluenced by piety, as was
the father’s heart at this time, he put more trust in
him who openly served and daily walked with the
Lord God of Israel.

Dear Helen! although I was blaming him she so
loved, she never once made an irritated observation,
or gave an impatient reply. I told her of the
dangers that would beset her if associated with one
who feared not God. I asked her how she could
expect to keep his word, or fear his name, when she
had wilfully placed herself in the midst of careless-
ness and infidelity ?

‘‘ Can you hope, dearest friend,” I said, ‘‘ as you
leave your father’s home with one who has turned
his back upon the pleasant land, that on you the
blessing of that promise will rest,—‘‘ Lo, I am with
you always.”

She wept bitterly as thus I spoke.

‘“‘ Go at once to the Strengthener,”’ I continued,
178 HELEN MAYNARD.

‘and he will even now give you power to resist
this fiery temptation. Purchase not a little troubled
earthly happiness by the alienation of your Saviour’s
love—by the wrath of the Lamb.”

‘Oh, Mr. Scott,” she said, ‘do you not think
worse of Captain Ingram than he deserves? and
what am I, that I should withdraw from him on
account of any fancied superiority of my own?”

‘You are deceiving yourself,” I replied. ‘ Of
superiority I am not speaking; but have you never
felt that the world around you was unsatisfactory,
and in trouble such as you have already had, have
you never looked towards Him who is invisible, and
been comforted? Take heed, I beseech you, how
you quench the strivings of the spirit, how you enter
without breastplate or shield on the hazardous and
toilsome service of a world that will repay you with
remorse and woe.”’

I had spoken more seriously than I had at first
intended, and Helen was overcome, and did not
join us again that evening.

Mr. Maynard, as I had expected, refused to listen
to Captain Ingram’s proposal, and requested he
would altogether discontinue his visits at Banff
Hall.

I felt my heart drawn towards Helen on this
occasion. There was no theatrical expression of
HELEN MAYNARD. 179
feeling—no hysterical excitement. She knew that
in this matter her father was actuated by tender
love for her; she knew that he too was suffering,
and though at first she was much overpowered, yet
she soon came amongst us again, somewhat subdued
in manner, but still the spirit of our quiet home
happiness.

With her father she was more tender, but not
so playful; and though I now never mentioned to
her Captain Ingram’s name, I hoped she had gone
in the shadow of her sorrow to her God, and from
his treasury beca supplied with some of the Balm of
Gilead, with peace that the world giveth not.

Mr. Everton, too, returned to Montego Bay, and
Helen went on her quiet way, busy with her house-
hold duties, and devoting part of the morning to
study.

Weeks, months passed on, and if there were a
deeper shade of sadness on Helen’s brow, she strug- .
gled against giving way to grief; and whilst she
carefully avoided all allusion to Captain Ingram, she
sometimes, even in the presence of her father, would
speak of Mr. Everton, the loss of whose society Mr.
Maynard began at length openly to regret.

It was one evening, I well remember, towards
Christmas, when the north winds were unusually

8
180 HELEN MAYNARD.

strong, that Mr. Everton, with perhaps a little re-
serve in his manner, again appeared amongst us.

You must let me remind you, dear young friends,
that my tale is not one of fiction—the occurrences
I am relating to you are simply those that took
place in real life; they are facts to which I
cannot even now recur without earnestly desiring
that you may in the morning of your days seek your
Saviour as your friend, and live so near to him that
you may pour forth your heart before him, till above
the turmoil of life shall rise the accents, ‘‘ This is
the way, walk ye in it;” so shall the weakness of
your youth be girt with the strength of Omnipotence,
and as you advance on the chequered path of life,
you shall look upwards with a smile that earthly
sorrow cannot quench, and gratefully say, ‘‘ Happy
is he that hath the God of Jacob for his strength,
whose hope is in the Lord his God.”

Every day but Sunday Mr. Everton was at Banff
Hall, and every evening Helen appeared to be exert-
ing herself to please her father. She would ask him
if she should sing his favorite songs with Mr. Everton,
and then whilst doing so, unconsciously convinced
every one around, that the effort was almost too much
for her. She would study German with him dili-
gently, and the progress she made was so rapid
that she astonished her teacher. There was an
HELEN MAYNARD. 181

activity of restlessness about her, altogether different
from that buoyant spirit of healthful en) oyment that
animated her when first we met.

Helen was at this time, simply from affection to her
father, striving against the attachment, that parental
love could not sanction. I believe she prayed, that
is, that she went over the form of accustomed words
every morning; she shut her door, but she could not
shut out the distracting thoughts that perplexed her,
and in the embarrassment of her present trial she
breathed to God, through Christ, no fervent prayer
for relief, and therefore the fragrance of that pro-
mise never revived her drooping heart. ‘‘ I will be
with thee in trouble.”

I believe that, at this time, had Mr. Everton again
asked for her hand she would have consented to be-
come his wife.

Perhaps he dived into her feelings ; perhaps he saw
the motives which now actuated her. He would look
earnestly at her, in a tender pitiful way, and when
her cheek became pale and her dark eyes lost their
brilliancy, he urged Mr. Maynard to consult a phy-
sician, and it was a trying sight to watch him
binding down his feelings in reserve and silence, yet
remaining near her, as if misery in her presence were
better than desolation without her.

I sometimes thought that Mr. Maynard was trifling

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182 HELEN MAYNARD.

with this gentleman’s feelings. In his anxiety for
Helen, he certainly had forgotten the sorrow he
might be causing another; but Mr. Everton knew
something of the strength made perfect in our weak-
ness, he knew something of the plenitude of comfort,
of the peace inexpressible given to the seeking tone
immersed in earthly trouble. Though with regard
to his affection for Helen, all seemed vexation of
spirit; he knew there was a fountain of happiness
at God’s right hand, of which those who thirsted
might freely drink. He waited on the Lord, and his
strength was renewed, and when he bade adieu to our
home circle, it was with a calmness of manner which
shewed that the peace of God kept his heart and mind
through Christ Jesus.

Yes, Mr. Everton left us, and rather suddenly too,
and Mr. Maynard looked harassed and perplexed.
The little cloud I had noticed on the far horizon was
spreading—Helen had become habitually grave, but
though the smile was almost quenched, the sister’s
kindness was heard in her tone and seen in her
gentle eye.

I told her to seek comfort from her God. ‘‘I am
not sorrowful,’ she replied. Oh how her looks
belied her, ‘but Papa is,” she continued, ‘‘ and I
sometimes wish you would talk to him and beg him
not to be so uneasy about me; when we are together
HELEN MAYNARD. 183

he can scarcely take his eyes from my face, and if
inadvertently I sigh, he is discomposed for the rest
of the evening.”

What a blight had come over us all; in fact some
change was necessary for Helen, and as Mr. Maynard
could not leave Montego Bay, and as Helen entreated
not to be compelled to leave him, Mrs. Cornell and
her daughter Ella were invited to spend a few weeks
at the hall.

Helen would have remonstrated with her father _
against this visit. There was little congeniality of
mind between herself and Ella, but she hoped, that
even the excitement of visitors might rouse her father
from his depression.

Mrs. Cornell had some knowledge of music, and
was always ready to play quadrilles or waltzes, as
the occasion might require, and it was, no doubt, this
desirable accomplishment that made the youthful
part of the community so value her society; for she
had an enquiring busy manner, and her expressions,
or rather her thoughts, had a natural sort of way of
resolving themselves into queries. You never could
be an unconcerned listener to Mrs. Cornell. She
prided herself too on the aristocratic tone of her
voice. This, perhaps, made her love to hear it. It
might have been on this account that her questions
followed each other with such relentless energy. If

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184 HELEN MAYNARD.

the day were warmer than usual, is it not sultry,
she would say, thus commanding your attention, for
common politeness required an answer. If she but
dropped her pocket handkerchief, and you gave it to
her again, am I not troublesome, would be the
catechetical remark.

Poor Helen! How I pitied her for the martyrdom
she endured in answer-giving.

Yet it must have drawn her, though unpleasantly,
from brooding on the past, and the self-denial she
was called upon to practise, was, no doubt, a medicine
which, though bitter was useful, inasmuch as it
drew her from self in the continued forbearance she
was called on to exercise.

“Do you not sometimes find it solitary here, my
dear? But is not Mr. Scott’s society a great advan-
tage?”

It was often puzzling to know to which query @
reply was expected.

“Ts not Mr. Everton a delightful man, Helen;
and why have you given up your musical parties ?
We must have regular practising in the evening,
must we not?”

“What was the name of that Irish gentleman
who sang so sweetly ?”

In the perplexity which the last question caused
Helen, she sheltered herself by answering the first ;
HELEN MAYNARD. 185

and she spoke of Mr. Everton with much earnest-
ness, describing him as intelligent, accomplished,
ind a most instructive and entertaining companion.

Mr. Maynard had intended this visit solely for his
daughter’s comfort; but he soon discovered how mis-
taken he had been in the plan he had adopted for
this purpose. It is true, she did not brood so much on
self; but there was a resigned sadness in her manner,
which pierced by its very passiveness that father’s
heart.
A lady is ever known by the intonation of her
voice, Mrs. Cornell would say. Mr. Cornell, before
he saw her, had determined she should be his wife,
from the circumstance of having overheard her
- speaking to her brother

This recollection seemed to influence her conduct
with regard to Ella, who had been so trained and
tutored to think an establishment in life the first
thing to be desired, that in every gentleman .who
approached her, she saw, or fancied she saw the cha-
racter of husband mysteriously shadowed forth.

Ella’s laugh was never known to rise above C; nay,
when poor suffering Helen was once or twice drawn
into mirth, I remember Mrs. Cornell would go to
the piano, and, striking the notes as if she were
tuning it, Helen dear, she would say, you are a
whole tone too high.
186 HELEN MAYNARD.

Ella’s manner with me was constrained and awk-
ward. Although scarcely seventeen, her happiness
seemed based on the idea, that she might now put
aside her books.

She did so; but at the very commencement of her
career, she proved, that cessation from healthful
mental employment was not rest. The mind is re-
lieved by having something on which to put forth
energies which, implanted by God, can never be ex-
tinguished ; the listlessness of sloth did not belong
to her nature, and poor Ella soon added one more
to the world’s thousands, who, whilst congratulating
themselves on the delights of a vacant leisure become
in reality the busy idler—the reckless mischief
maker, or the systematic gossip.

And thus the morning of her life was passing on—
thus early was the radiance of it becoming overcast.
Luxury could not bring contentment, nor enervation
of mind peace; and, whilst she reluctantly acknow-
ledged that blight was on her spring, and cloud
on her morning sky, in strange infatuation she
turned from the affectionate entreaty, ‘“‘ Come unto
me, and I will give you rest.” Putting aside the
inestimable privilege of devoting in early life the
heart to God, viewing it, if such an expression be
allowable through a worldly medium; how much

beauty of mind is developed—how much true grace
HELEN MAYNARD. 187

and ease of manner become apparent, in the charac-
ter that has, as it were, bespoken the strength of
Omnipotence for the future trials of life.

Amidst the daily din and disquietude of conflicting
occurrences, such a one is soothed by the chime of
heavenly promises, the tones of which the worldling
doth not hear.

They are calm, where others are ruffled, for their
way is committed to the Lord; they are steadfast,
where others are wavering, for their stronghold
is the Rock of Ages; they mount above trial on
eagle’s wings, where others are overwhelmed, for
they wait on the Lord, and their strength is re-
newed; and, to a girl just entering on life, is not her
very loveliness heightened, and her gracefulness of
manner enhanced, when the charity that hopeth all
things beams in her smile, and the cultivated mind
is associated with the winning and gentle spirit that
is not easily puffed up.

Oh, yes; the gem may gleam in her hair, or the
diamond glitter on her brow; but, when the pearl
of great price is in her bosom, the godliness with
contentment lets fall some rays of the beauty of
holiness on her face, and the ornament of a meek
and quiet spirit sheds over her whole deportment a
radiance so superior to outward adorning, that the
188 HELEN MAYNARD.

careless looker on, has been constrained to say,
“He beautifieth the meek with salvation.”

But, very far have I wandered from Helen, dear
Helen, whom I see before me now, in her repressed
but inwardly corroding sorrow. She afterwards told
me, that she was at this time struggling in her own
strength to do what was right. She never once
thought of the reviving assurance, “My grace is
sufficient for thee ;”’ and, therefore, in the multitude
of sorrows within her, no heavenly comfort filled her
soul.

Mrs. Cornell, to rouse Helen, as she said, from
melancholy, insisted on music. How can we sing
the Lord’s song in a strange land, was the sorrow-
ful exclamation of the Jewish exile many hundred
years ago, and still how harshly do the notes of
mirth fall on the heart that is weary with its own
bitterness.

Those dreary musical evenings are present with
me still. There is Mr. Maynard, with his harassed
look, holding the newspaper before him, but every
minute his anxious glance rests on Helen, who is
listening to Miss Cornell’s song, or quietly sitting
by my side at the low sofa table, translating German.
How painfully defined now was that shadowy ex-
pression in her eyes, even when she laughed it was
HELEN MAYNARD. 189

unchanged, and was strangely unbecoming to one so
young.

It would not do. Miss Cornell’s efforts at spright-
liness, and her mamma’s well-preserved cadences of
tones, the most aristocratical, were all insufficient to
bring anything like gladness into that party. The
very chords of the piano seemed to vibrate only to
sadness; but those walls were to look on deeper
sorrow yet than this—but gently, gently, you are
ready to say, do not, Mr. Scott, run on with your
story.

Well, when Mrs. Cornell found there was no hope
of more enlivening society, she pleaded a sudden
engagement at Montego Bay, and left our saddened
party for the more sprightly community of that
capital.

And now a change came over that mountain home.
Weary days: and sleepless nights were Mr. May-
nard’s portion. He saw his intensely loved child
drooping, fading before his eyes. She had never
murmured, and even now had it been possible, she
would have married Mr. Everton for her father’s
sake. She was losing the elasticity of her spirit,
and the very energy of her mind was failing.

‘What, and all this, because Helen could not
marry Captain Ingram, you are ready to say! Why,
190 HELEN MAYNARD.

Mr. Scott, you are putting before us the romance of
a novel.”

“No such thing,” dear friends. “Iam telling
you of one, in real life, who did not seek strength
from her God to keep her heart with all diligence,
who loved fondly and earnestly ere she had asked
for heavenly direction; and who, in the day of
temptation, uncheered by a single promise, could but
seek comfort by clasping to her heart the poisonous
flower, which, ere long, was to pierce her through
with many thorns.”

Ah! do not, too many of you, rush on thus
thoughtlessly, as if a matter of earthly affection were
too trivial a thing to take to the God of Israel.

Be persuaded by me, dear friends, that your path
through life will never be a blessed one, till you have
learnt to spread every care, every difficulty before
your God.

Believe the experience of an old man when he
tells you, that the perplexity will be unravelled—
the embarrassment lightened, and strength given to
the failing heart, if in childlike confidence you go to
Him who was in all points tempted like as we are.

Oh, how often would the dangerous course be left
unpursued, the God-estranging affection be resolutely
repelled, if in all places, under any circumstances,
HELEN MAYNARD. 191

we remembered Him, who says, “I will instruct
thee, I will guide thee with mine eye, I will lead
thee in the way in which thou shouldst go.”

As I have before said, Mr. Maynard did not value
religion. He objected to Captain Ingram principally,
I believe, because he was so unacquainted with his
family ; but a sharp attack of fever with which Helen
was at this time seized, decided Mr. Maynard on his
future mode of proceeding. Without serious thought,
without one breath of prayer for guidance, he re-
called Captain Ingram. Alas, alas for him, who in
the perplexities of life, looks not to his Redeemer,
nor has he respect unto the Holy One of Israel.
‘Behold at eventide trouble, and before the morning
he is not.”

It was a painful duty, but I remonstrated with
Mr. Maynard for the sake of his beloved child. I
warned him of the dangerous step he was about to
take; I told him my fears concerning Captain Ingram,
that he was a godless careless man ;

“(Can you trust him with your child?” I said,
“Can you give her a sweetened poison, and expect
it to be a restorative 2”

But Mr. Maynard would not look on the shadows of
Captain Ingram’s character, and he tried to comfort
himself with the idea that he could discern in him no
palpable fault. Besides too, Mr. Maynard had heard ©

T
192 HELEN MAYNARD.

something of the respectability of Captain Ingram’s
family, and as he had, as yet, kept inviolate the world’s
code of honor, Mr. Maynard turned his back on the
anticipation of danger, and tried to battle against
that secret misgiving for which there is no accounting,
but which seems like the still small voice of holy
remonstrance whispered in the ears, even of those
who go on frowardly in the way of their own hearts.

And Helen lay on the sofa in that state of nervous
and excitable weakness which sometimes follows
fever, and Captain Ingram was beside her ; beside
her in that chastened and subdued spirit which
showed he too had sorrowed. My heart softened as
I looked at him, and I almost felt angry with myself
for having been so severe in my judgment concern-
ing him. There was no kind of triumph expressed
at the idea of his presence being so necessary to
Helen. In a quiet sort of grateful way, he con-
versed with Mr. Maynard, and the calm, stealing
over Helen’s face, made me long to hope that the
sunshine of happiness would again cheer that home
circle.

Weeks and weeks passed on, dear young friends
without any of those striking occurrences that form a
narrative.

I never afterwards passed that old house without
thinking of Helen as she then was—walking in the |
HELEN MAYNARD. 193

piazza with Captain Ingram, or sitting by his side
at dinner. The little trial through which she had
passed had softened her manner, and a shadowy
depth of thought was still in her eyes, or the change
might have been the result of that simple and earnest
affection which cannot, I think, exist with any great
exuberance of mirth; yet was she full of a grateful
kind of happiness.

“What have you not done for me, papa,” she
would say; and then she would build hope’s fairy
castles in the air, and talk of her English home,
where her dear old father was to end his days.
How inexpressibly tender was the old man’s smile
as he listened to her, then hurriedly taking up his
newspaper, he would try to conceal his face from
us, laughingly saying, that Helen was endeavouring
to make him exchange politics for love in a cottage,
at his time of life.

But an aged and widowed father’s love for an
only daughter, we approach it delicately. It is as
if all the tenderness of his life were concentrated in
this last affection. It is made up of softened me-
mories of the babes who died in infancy, of touch-
ing recollections of the one cherished form that long
ago he laid to rest amidst the sods of the earth.
All these outlets of affection are as it were thrown
back, to swell the overflowing tide of .this father’s

tT 2
194 HELEN MAYNARD.

love which marvellously forgetting self, endureth
all things—hopeth all things, and even when intel-
lect is weakened, cannot fail.

Those still and radiant evenings when the moon-
light, with its silvery pencil was clearly tracing
every leaf of the delicate foliage of the tamarind-
tree, when the land breeze bore gently onwards its
whisperings of the mountains to the far sea, taking
on its course gifts of fragrance from the night
flowers to the distant billows, all this comes back
again, dear friends, as I speak to you of Helen.

Why was it that at such times as these the old
feeling of distrust came over me? I cannot tell.
But true it was, a boding fear of evil—nay, more
than fear, it had formed itself into a mysterious
knowledge, that as I looked at Helen, darkly
whispered—prize that, smile whilst it is there, and
treasure those glad tones while yet they fall on
your ear.

Mr. Maynard too, was uot quite at his ease. He
had a gentle spirit, and I believe he had succeeded
in persuading himself, that by his present line of
conduct, he was promoting his daughter’s hap-
piness.

No chime of merry bells was borne by the sea
breeze up into the mountain land, yet there was
HELEN MAYNARD. 195

a wedding at my own little church. I stood at the
altar as they knelt before me, Captain Ingram and
Helen, and never did I go through the service with
a more sorrowful heart than on that occasion. Poor
girl! I remember the extreme simplicity of her
appearance in contrast with the studied dress and
artificial manner of the bridesmaid, who was no other
than our friend Ella Cornell. But, more than all
this, in painful distinctness, do I remember that old
man’s face—the father: a slanting sunbeam from
the high-roof window fell on his forehead, and
played on his snowy hair, his eyes were filled with
tears, his lips quivered, and his look said, as plainly
as words could say: “I have staked my precious
child’s happiness on this fearful throw, what if I
lose >” He had not committed his way unto the
Lord, and he knew nothing of that peace which is
the heritage of those whose steps are directed by the
faithful God of Jacob.

Helen looked tranquil, and Captain Ingram’s
manner was composed. Before the conclusion of the
service, however, he became very pale, and just as
he turned to take Helen from the church, he fell
senseless on the steps of the altar!

As Captain Ingram soon recovered, his illness
was attributed to over-excitement. How sweetly

tT 3
196 HELEN MAYNARD.

Helen soothed him. I wondered he did not smile
more.

But at the dejewné all grew cheerful agdin; and
when Helen left us with her husband, in the even-
ing, I found myself trying to persuade Mr. May-
nard, that he might look hopefully forward on his
daughter’s untried future, and I had almost reasoned
myself into the belief there was a want of Christian
charity in the feelings I had entertained towards
Captain Ingram.

The marriage tour was quickly accomplished, and
again my sister friend was amongst us as before, for
she was to remain with us three months previous
to her return to England with her husband. The
dear old time had come back again, she was the
playful daughter—the unaffected friend, and Cap-
tain Ingram had only changed from the agreeable
visitor into the dutiful son, and earnestly devoted
husband. I love to think of those days. Mr. May-
nard’s smile grew so bright, and Helen’s laughter
became so joyous, that I too was influenced by their
spirit of happiness ; and in my conversations with
Helen, I begged her to spread her joy before the Lord,
and to ask, that by the mercies of her God, she might
be constrained to surrender her heart to him.

There were times when Captain Ingram did not
seem to participate in the tranquillity of Helen’s con-
HELEN MAYNARD. 197

tentment; and yet it was not sadness that oppressed
him, but a sort of nervous restlessness that took
possession of him. His brilliancy of conversation
almost entirely forsook him, yet his tenderness to
Helen rather increased than diminished. He pleaded
ill health in excuse for his changed manner, and
when the old distrustful feeling again crept over me,
I resolutely combated with it, as if by so doing
I was removing danger from Helen.

But at length came a talk of parting, then pre-
parations for the voyage, and at last, the evening of
their embarkation for England. How glorious was
the heaven whilst the bay spread out before us like
a sheet of molten gold. The land breeze lingered,
and we remained late on board the vessel. How I
felt for Mr. Maynard. For years his daughter had
twined round his heart as the tendril round the
oak. He had so long cherished her, and now it was
not death that separated them; but to another tree
would Helen cling, yet unrepiningly he gave her
up, if by so doing he could increase her happiness.
She had new hopes, new ties, and though very sor-
rowful at the separation from her father, the hopeful
future was before her, looking in the distance like
enchanted ground. Mr. Maynard, in the pressure
of a silent embrace, bids her farewell! He turns at
the hatchway—one look more, with all the father
198 HELEN MAYNARD.

in his face—so full of tender, intelligent love!
Prize that look, Helen, engrave it on your heart—
bind it on your memory, you will need it in after
years that father’s parting gaze!

The stream returns not to the fountain, and the
past comes not back again. We all felt that Banff
Hall could never more be what it had been.

Poor Mr. Maynard! it was some weeks before he
could attend to business, and then we tried to per-
suade him, that he might yet add to his daughter's
dowry. This was a new thought. To work for
himself was a heavy thing; but if he could stil
benefit Helen, why then life was not utterly bereft
of purpose, so, invigorated by this idea, he again
visited the office.

If he attended to his flowers in the evening, it
was in order that he might send home, Helen, seeds
for her conservatory ; nay, when he read the papers,
he persuaded himself that he did so in order to col-
lect news that might give interest to his letters to
his child.

And where was Helen? In about three months
we heard from her. All was happiness. Life
stretched out in brilliant perspective before her, and
in the reflected light of his daughter’s prosperity,
the old man grew calmly cheerful.

More than a year had passed since Helen left,
HELEN MAYNARD. 199

when Mr. Maynard received the intelligence that he
was a grandfather. Another Helen had entered on
the pilgrimage of life, the end of which is im-
mortality !

I remember well that evening, Mr. Maynard, with
his packet letter in his hand, strolled with me along
the mountain side.

The purple twilight was resting heavily amongst
the mango trees. The bay below us lay calm ina
shadowy sleep, the fire-flies were coming forth in
myriads from the wooded hill land around, and the
just awakening land breeze had startled the datura
into fragrance, and gently unfolded the streamers
of one or two outward-bound vessels. I have often
since thought of it, that old man’s gladness, and of
the new idea that so suddenly took possession of his
mind to settle all his Jamaica affairs, and to spend
the evening of his days with his precious child.

What were all the fragrance and beauty of that
radiant tropic-land to him. She was gone. There
was the never-ceasing melody of the ocean, but her
voice had passed away. His garden flowers flourish-
ed and luxuriantly too; but the fairest was missing,
and what were these to him.

So the old man’s mind was made up. He would
goto England. It is true there were many things
to be arranged before he could leave Jamaica. A
200 HELEN MAYNARD.

suitable partner must be obtained, long standing
debts settled ; his house must be let ; but no matter,
the very project was exhilirating—life was no longer
without purpose, and anticipation itself constituted
present enjoyment.

I quietly went on my way, sometimes exchanging
duty with a friend for a few months, but always
returning with gladness to my simple people, and to
my kind and generous hearted friend Mr. Maynard.

We heard regularly from Helen, and the spirit of
quiet home, happiness seemed almost visibly amongst
us again as she told us of the peaceful fireside, of the
endearing ways of her little Helen. Judge then of
my surprise, when on taking up the paper carelessly
one morning, at Montego Bay, the first paragraph
that met my eye was, “ Arrivals at Kingston, Mrs.
Ingram and daughter.”’

What could be the meaning of this? I took the
paper to Mr. Maynard, who was at his mountain
home, so debilitated from intermittent fever that he
was unable to walk across the room; his whole frame
appeared to receive a shock when he heard of his
child’s sudden return to Jamaica.

‘All cannot be well, Mr. Scott,” he said, ‘and
yet perhaps the poor girl has lost her husband, and
in the first impulse of her sorrow returned to her
father ;’ then his face brightened a little, and he
HELEN MAYNARD. 201

said, ‘‘ Let her come, sweet bird, the dove to the ark
of home.” But no time was to be lost, so I set off
in the evening for Kingston.

Yes, it must be Helen, that lady in deep mourning
with the pale child at her side. She was writing as
I entered the room, and as the land breeze was strong
and busy amongst a cluster of date trees just outside
the windows, she did not at first hear my steps; but
when she looked up there was our dear affectionate
Helen, changed indeed—her cheeks were sunken, and
her shadowy eyes had the kind of expression that told
you they were accustomed to tears.

“My friend, I said, my dear suffering sister.”’

Hastily sending her little daughter from the room,
she wept long and bitterly. ‘‘ My poor father—his
grey hairs will indeed go with sorrow to the grave.”

I cannot, at this distance of time recall our long
and painful conversation, suffice it to say that poor
Helen discovered that Captain Ingram had been for
some years married to a Scotch lady ; her wealth had
been the temptation, for she was many years his
senior. He had separated from her, and when he
met with Helen, having no principle to guide him,
no strong tower in which to shelter himself from the
fiery darts of temptation, all that the world calls
honorable principle past from him as a leaf on the
stream of impetuous inclination, and for the sake of
202 HELEN MAYNARD.

a little selfish and troubled happiness, he shrouded in
sorrow and disgrace those, who but for him had en-
joyed the happy sunshine of an affectionate home.

Alas, alas! to what lengths will not the best of
us go when we are unmindful of the Rock that
begat us, when we forget the God that formed us.

Poor Helen! This sad knowledge of her own
situation had come to her after years of devoted
kindness from Captain Ingram; and even now it was
his sin that pained her more than her own unhappy
condition. Her life was darkened. The stigma of
shame was on her guileless child, and all this misery
had yet to be unfolded to her old father.

‘But we will pray, Mr. Scott,” she said; ‘‘ we
will ask for strength and guidance.”’

Ah, “ Ye shall know that I have not done without
cause, all that I have done in it, saith the Lord
God.”

“Affliction springeth not forth from the dust,
neither doth trouble come out of the ground. That
night of weeping was dark indeed. The day of her
espousal was henceforth to be veiled in shame, and
remembered amidst the sighs and tears of a broken
heart. No one earthly friend was near her in the
first hours of that overwhelming anguish, and he
who had been hitherto the affectionate counsellor
was for ever separated from her.”’
HELEN MAYNARD. 203

Oh, the desolating sorrow of that fearful time!
Then it was, that, driven as it were, to Him who is
acquainted with grief, she tremblingly cried, ‘“ Lord
save, or I perish.” Ido not mean to say, that her
heart was filled with instantaneous peace; but the
cry went forward, and the Intercessor presented it to
the father, and on the bleak wilderness of her desolate
life, she saw on the far horizon some gleamings of
the Jerusalem which is from above. In this hurri-
cane of anguish faith as a dawning light, shadowed
forth Him whose invitation to the weary is: ‘‘ Come
unto me, and I will give you rest.”

And yet we rail at trial. We may look on it as
needful for the reprobate or unbeliever, but as Chris-
tians we can strangely forget that whom the Lord
loveth he chasteneth. When all is pretty smooth
with us, how often do we go on cayilling at, and
arguing about certain doctrines, allowing a shadow
of difference on some passing opinion of no moment
to swell our hearts with indignation and resentment.
Then the sudden anguish comes, and oh! how
thrown aside as useless are all these dissensions.
If the sorrow be sanctified, how simply are we com-
pelled to look to God as deliverer—in so doing the
spirit of humility expands, and in our softened coun-
tenance and milder deportment, all around are con-
vinced, that he who loveth God loveth his brother also.

U
204 HELEN MAYNARD.

But to return from our long digression to Helen.
Pardon me, dear friends, I approach the saddest part
of my narrative. Before the afternoon of the next
day we were at Banff Hall. Helen was locked in
her father’s fond embrace, then the grandchild was
caressed, but put aside again for his own dear Helen.
I was dreading the explanation, for I well knew the
old man would never be satisfied till all the truth
was told.

I left them alone, and sauntered in the piazza,
fearful of being too far away. I heard a scream,
and on rushing to Mr. Maynard, found him sense-
less. We untied his cravat, and a negro doctor on
the estate, took blood from his arm. Before night
two medical men arrived from Montego Bay. To-
wards morning he opened his eyes, and after a little
while knew us again, yet a strange expression
rested on his face; he did not speak much. He
asked Helen to arrange his pillows more comfort-
ably, and called for a glass of water.

How uneasily she glanced from him to me. I
knew her fear, and felt afraid to look at her.
Some hours rest might, however, restore him, and
somewhat tranquillized by this idea, Helen took her
watchful seat by his side.

He slept long and soundly, and on waking,
addressed his daughter as if no time had elapsed
HELEN MAYNARD. 205

since Mr. Everton had been a visitor at Banff
Hall.

An icy coldness fell on Helen’s heart. She looked
imploringly at me, as if I could aid her. I could
ouly gently say, ‘He doth not willingly afflict nor
grieve the children of men.”

O, Mr. Maynard, if you had but paused, ere you
gave your daughter to one who feared not God, this
bitter fruit—this fearful trial had not been yours!
Dear Helen, it was piteous to see her looking at her
father ; but the realization of her sorrow had not yet
arrived. Never, never shall I forget the first day that
Mr. Maynard was able to leave his room and to come
amongst us. There was no kind of gladness, it was
sorrow inexpressible. The tears were silently chas-
ing each other down poor Helen’s face, as assisted
by me, she supported her father to walk in the
piazza. He caught her tears in his hand, and
smilingly told her not to fret, that Captain Ingram
was waiting to sing to her. He thought only in
the past; the sorrow-darkened present he could not
comprehend. And then week after week passed on,
and there was no improvement. Mr. Maynard
erew strong again; but the mind was clouded for
ever.

Poor suffering Helen! And how did she stand?

u 2
206 HELEN MAYNARD.

When my heart is overwhelmed within me, lead
me to the Rock that is higher than I. This was
now her prayer.

We have almost forgotten the fragrance of the
orange tree in the protracted sunshine ; but the
night has darkened, the heavy tropical rain has
fallen, and the whole atmosphere is impregnated
with the delightful perfume.

The storm had indeed bowed down Helen, and
laid waste her heart’s pleasant land. The joy of
her girlhood could never come again; but she knew
whom she had believed, and taking hold of the
promises of her God, she confidingly said, though
he slay me, yet will I trust in Him.

The world knew nothing of all this. They looked
on it as a case of unmitigated misery, indeed Mrs.
Cornell was one of the first to decide, that harm-
less as Helen was, the association at Banff Hall
was no longer desirable for Ella; and yet, through
the darkness of that heavy sorrow, angels bore to
heaven the rejoicing tidings of one sinner that re-
pented. There was joy in the presence of God
over that gentle and repentant being, who, cast
down, but not destroyed, was lying at the feet of
Him whose voice louder than the tempest she heard
saying, ‘It is I, be not afraid.”
HELEN MAYNARD. 207

Again months and months passed on. Acquain-
tances ceased to enquire after Mr. Maynard, and
friends forgot to sympathize with Helen. Little
Helen grew and flourished as flowers will do in
rainy weather: she was very like her mother, only
delicately fair. It must have been the atmosphere
of sorrow in which she lived, that gave her that
earnest look, which sometimes rested so painfully
on her young face. Oh, how patiently, how un-
weariedly did that suffering mamma lead her child
to take every passing disquietude to her Saviour,
and little Helen had already learnt bravely to meet
disappointment, and I believe that young as she
was, she knew something of that closet communion
with her Saviour, so invigorating and sustaining to
the traveller in this changeful world.

Two more years glided by, and then our Helen’s
strength all at once gave way. The old man, her
father, did not notice it. As she lay on the sofa
with her sunken cheeks, he sat beside her smiling ;
and then I would remember the anxious tender love
once expressed in his affectionate gaze.

He had a curious habit of catching Helen’s tears
as they fell—looking on them with delight as they
glittered on his fingers, as a child would look ona
sparkling toy.

One morning when things were going on in this

u 3
208 HELEN MAYNARD.

way, and Helen fading rapidly, the servant came
hurriedly to me, and said:

‘Massa one buckra gentleman outside, him ’peak
very softly, and say him wish to see massa! ”

‘Ask him in,” I replied, as I continued writing.

It was well I was alone in my study, Captain
Ingram was before me. His marked and handsome
features were easy of recognition. His wife was
dead, and he had come to make all the reparation in
his power to Helen.

Oh, surely, surely, I thought, as I witnessed.
his agony, when I made known to him Helen’s
state of health, and Mr. Maynard’s sad condition,
whilst the path of the just grows brighter and
brighter to the perfect day, the way of those who
fear not God grows more barren as they journey on.

I had to break the matter to Helen. I told her
as gently as I could, I had heard a report that
Captain Ingram was a widower. I know not if
there was any unusual excitement in my manner,
orif she had heard the entrance of a visitor, but she
instantly fainted, and, in spite of all my remon-
strances, I could not keep Captain Ingram from her.
He was kneeling at her side, bathing her temples,
and begging her to speak to him. At length she
recovered, and, in an instant her thin arms were
clasped round his neck.
HELEN MAYNARD. 209

I cannot relate to you, dear friends, all that fol-
lowed; but on the great sea of forgetfulness there
yet float one or two touching memories of the past..

I remember how Helen spoke of her own life
as passing away, how clearly she pointed out to
Captain Ingram that her sorrows had all arisen
from neglecting to seek heavenly direction, from
looking to earthly love as her guide instead of
keeping her eye fixed on Him who is the bright
and morning star. I remember too, how Captain
Ingram wept, as the little Helen looked wonderingly
from him to her mamma, conscious that some great
sorrow was around her. And I recollect, oh! how
vividly, Mr. Maynard, as he sat in the arm-chair in
the midst of all this, smiling perpetually, and asking
Captain Ingram to sing some of his sea-songs, as if
Helen were still in her untroubled girlhood—as if
sin and sorrow had made no change in that once
happy household. Sometimes he would speak of
little Helen as a stranger, that his daughter had
adopted, and then suddenly he would address her
as his child, telling her, that she would soon be tall
enough to sit at his table, and cheer his lonely
home. His mind was gone. Helen had been his all;
and when the stream of his happiness was poisoned
at the fountain, when vanity and vexation of spirit
had twined themselves round this strong affection,
210 HELEN MAYNARD.

reason tottered, and fell. He had not stayed him-
self on Jehovah, and no great peace was there to
sustain him in the evil tidings of the day of trouble.

But time was passing on. There must be a wed-
ding—yes, in the midst of sadness, such as this, the
bridal ceremony must be performed.

I have officiated at many marriages, and though
some have taken place amidst weeping and sadness,
few clergymen, through a lengthened course of mi-
nisterial labour can look back to a wedding 80
steeped in sorrowful recollection as that of which I
now speak.

Forgive me, dear young friends. The past comes
over me with power—a few moments, and I will tell
you all.

It is evening. ‘The eternal mountains are before
us, and the room is filled with golden light. A
cluster of orange trees iz full bloom, shadow the
middle part of the piazza, and in their shelter Helen
reclines in a large Spanish chair. She is too weak
to sit up, and is wrapped in a shawl; but through
‘ts folds I can see the palpitating heart. Her lips
are very white. Who stands over the back of that
chair? He is unconscious of all that is going on.
Yet look,—what is he doing? It cannot be quite
incomprehensible to him. He has plucked the
snowy-white orange-flower, and placed it over
HELEN MAYNARD. 211

Helen’s forehead, the only sign, the mute and
touching sign of the ceremony about to be per-
formed. As I read the service, Captain Ingram
kneels at Helen’s side in sobs and tears. Little
Helen held my hand, and looked painfully per-
plexed.

Poor Mr. Maynard’s unfailing smile came over
the high chair-back chillingly as snow would have
fallen on the rich wood-land spread out before us.
Then how painfully came back the memory of that
father’s parting look, as he stood at the vessel’s
side.

Helen became insensible; they sprinkled water
on her pale face; but I resolutely continued the
service.

‘“¢ Now you are truly mine,” said Captain Ingram,
as I concluded, “‘my own wife.”

Ah! that sweet name could not reach her ear;
yet she bore the reproach of her saddened widow-
hood no longer. Her Maker was her husband!
The Lord of Hosts is his name. The excitement
had been too much for her shattered frame, and the
spirit had passed away !

The scene that followed is one of those thrilling
remembrances that sometimes comes in on my quiet
old age with an energy of recollection that is almost
overpowering. Captain Ingram’s wild and bitter
212 HELEN MAYNARD.

self reproach ; the little girl’s helpless sorrow. On
her mother’s knee she sat, and held in her young
embrace the dead! Mr. Maynard missed life in his
daughter’s face, he missed her tears—her smiles,
and in the tumult of all this grief he walked calmly
about the house, searching in every room, as if a
book or a hat had been missing.

Before the evening of the next day, we were again
assembled going through our beautiful and solemn
service for the dead. How profound was the silence.
On the green slope we stood, with the shadowy hills
looking down on us.

‘Before the mountains were brought forth, or
ever the earth and the world were made, thou art
God from everlasting and world without end.”
And then we laid Helen, at her own particular
request, amongst the flowers, silent emblems of the
sweet resurrection hope. Throughout the whole
service Mr. Maynard smiled. He did not in the
least understand what we were doing. Once he
said, ‘Leave her by the orange trees.” No inap-
propriate suggestion, as her life had passed away
whilst their snow-white bloom was yet on her
forchead; as the memory of that bridal flower must
henceforth, with our thoughts of Helen be associated
with death.

Poor Mr. Maynard! Some relatives in the coun-
HELEN MAYNARD. 213

try took him under their care, and he left his
cherished home,—his daughter’s narrow resting-
place—smiling calmly, yet looking round for some-
thing gone, as if the craving of affection, though
bewildered could not be totally quelled — though
lost in darkness, could not perhaps be utterly extin-
guished.

Captain Ingram lived for some time after Helen’s
death.

In after years my daughters were very fond of a
sweet girl, to whom they looked up as to an elder
sister, and always loved to have her with them, for
she had a peculiar way of convincing them there
could be no real happiness without seeking first the
kingdom of God and his righteousness.

I see, dear friends, you have already guessed this
was Helen—the second Helen.

Well, there was a talk of her marriage with a
medical man in our neighbourhood. How easily
she got out of all perplexities, how calmly she un-
ravelled all entanglements. I knew the secret.
There was one saying to her, “ I will guide thee
with mine eye.”

She returned to England, and some little time had
elapsed since we had heard of her, when my wife,
who was looking over my shoulder as I held the
newspaper, suddenly read aloud, ‘At St. Paul’s
214 HELEN MAYNARD.

Church, Bristol, by the Rev. Herbert Everton, H.
Everton, Esq., Barrister-at-Law, to Helen, only
daughter of the late Captain Ingram, of His
Majesty’s navy.”

Oh, what crowding memories rushed on me of our
happy household circle at Banff Hall, long, long ago.
I thought of our first Helen, as she had once stood
before me a gentle bride, and how earnestly I prayed
that my young daughters then around me might
learn in their affections, as well as in their sorrows,
to look for help to the Lord God of Israel.

Some of the old people at Montego Bay will tell
you of Banff Hall, although it is now altered, and
bears another name; and if you ask them they will
shew you the rude gravestone on the hill side, no
longer encircled by a garden, where, by cutting away
the matted underwood, you will still see the motto,
at Helen’s request chiselled there :—

“In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct
thy steps.”

ee COD
London: E. Varty, Printer, 27 & 15, Camomile Street, Bishopsgate.
WORKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR.
Demy 16mo.. price 2s. 6d.

STORIES FROM THE GOSPELS,
A Gurr For CHILDREN.

Third Thousand.

Imperial 16mo., price 4s.

THE FAMILY SEPULCHRE,
A TALE oF JAMAICA.

Illustrated with Woodcuts. Second Thousand.

Foolscap 8vo., price ds.
LAYS OF THE SEA,
AND OTHER POEMS.

Second Edition.

Royal 18mo., price 38.

MAUDE EFFINGHAM,
A TALE oF JAMAICA.



Foolscap 8vo., price 3s. 6d.
STORIES FROM THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES,



Demy 16mo., price 6d.

GRANDPAPA’S BIRTHDAYS,
Third Thousand.



Demy 18mo., price ls.
THE COTTON TREE,
A Tate FoR CHILDREN.
Second Thousand.

Demy 16mo., price 6d.
THE LITTLE TEACHER,
Second Edition.
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'2011-11-14T22:57:39-05:00'
describe
'285' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSJE' 'sip-files00006.txt'
9c4bf35e3ae009ebdcf727926a6a70a5
b7020d0505c0e52b20767935099bd3bd55429c93
'2011-11-14T22:59:50-05:00'
describe
'2928' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSJF' 'sip-files00006thm.jpg'
493e4cce395a06ff6e34f51ea0005d3e
54996673b73f316ecfc07e2f0831f1fd822b8f94
'2011-11-14T22:56:48-05:00'
describe
'600713' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSJG' 'sip-files00007.jp2'
0da0dbaa2e3cf67126fbaf897a582f55
6f67073bdd38d30c99b54519967104eb5ce4cbce
'2011-11-14T22:59:06-05:00'
describe
'10942' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSJH' 'sip-files00007.jpg'
f523010eb0fd8779cb78a1f96845923c
bf461e2a4ec820b63e5213d27c43b3a88b1a0a62
'2011-11-14T22:58:37-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSJI' 'sip-files00007.pro'
9df6502873dc3861350fb4554f07d966
e99cabbe64b9b1e4fdb43949ae9075548c663614
'2011-11-14T23:00:35-05:00'
describe
'2998' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSJJ' 'sip-files00007.QC.jpg'
ace60db4179fcf983fc183ac7f2eaff6
8b1f0b2e1ade81cbafc32b1e65fb1b779a19ea73
'2011-11-14T22:59:14-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSJK' 'sip-files00007.tif'
b6ac7e77f5628e9f99b5a3d069290a86
638ff6c01e72561bc0568391a74a852ef8832052
'2011-11-14T22:57:07-05:00'
describe
'1226' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSJL' 'sip-files00007thm.jpg'
cb3540a9da75f22f958d9ec10c8c77f3
c1391bf056a3e54950cb7351f78fa8c1776ecd78
'2011-11-14T22:54:58-05:00'
describe
'882606' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSJM' 'sip-files00008.jp2'
3137fb571a3f8a8f47f669adffb93f69
581529f8c6517eec8a9f804c7d335af37aa2e65f
'2011-11-14T22:54:46-05:00'
describe
'50366' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSJN' 'sip-files00008.jpg'
f3638861b577b19c78957ff8cf4e83af
baa6e78907b45596ebfe6de4335f8e08dba5cef6
'2011-11-14T22:56:19-05:00'
describe
'17283' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSJO' 'sip-files00008.pro'
9a5e0d1a66de0f89fc41be9342690256
8dff51254aa43547a7e005fab7c8794bbe6adb68
'2011-11-14T22:56:18-05:00'
describe
'18101' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSJP' 'sip-files00008.QC.jpg'
d53a18774646fa8a71a552d5e4839dc7
daf3ad5be6c4eb9fa493870b209d31b54f564ab9
'2011-11-14T22:57:30-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSJQ' 'sip-files00008.tif'
60641a29b967d1b245c2c2d9fb0acb30
b0f76543a5e9ce3a28dfb31a58fbc0333e08090c
'2011-11-14T22:56:57-05:00'
describe
'757' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSJR' 'sip-files00008.txt'
03165259aee8038f62e1d53d516868db
3e259590945fdea5dde0cf3941442f2cc4a8c5c4
'2011-11-14T23:01:37-05:00'
describe
'6655' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSJS' 'sip-files00008thm.jpg'
781ed82f1ab67a9b00fbf1819a758214
2e4119e8dad3f7936e4500e76d82ff460fcc9c12
'2011-11-14T22:58:28-05:00'
describe
'988941' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSJT' 'sip-files00009.jp2'
e39db74ab7b3259ed4ed7e3d11329b9d
219fa7a6f3cca594730f18b1e3b3b8a27017c22f
'2011-11-14T22:55:04-05:00'
describe
'68076' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSJU' 'sip-files00009.jpg'
a94f1a2de53435284624149f68448b72
d6a11719d6b02fb16351ac57172edd0514084007
'2011-11-14T22:56:24-05:00'
describe
'25975' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSJV' 'sip-files00009.pro'
a6f65a1fd1ef543000d0e96ee42d95dc
0c6ad72e65c47546e683762fabf8e4f19fecfc8c
'2011-11-14T22:57:20-05:00'
describe
'26058' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSJW' 'sip-files00009.QC.jpg'
6bdf00b5d3b4f116c04d36606bba4687
c07802e184dd7301ed1c1ba70815313a9281caed
'2011-11-14T22:58:49-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSJX' 'sip-files00009.tif'
6f77abf012a89a9b47278dfbf8cab00f
2a3296444d840016110a4c3c13eac638a5d09aef
'2011-11-14T22:59:41-05:00'
describe
'1036' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSJY' 'sip-files00009.txt'
6e1febe886f93b4055235f1e55b36d62
14bb888ae2d4b7e11c28be9c4b2bbdf2d812bae7
'2011-11-14T22:57:57-05:00'
describe
'9102' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSJZ' 'sip-files00009thm.jpg'
503da358543430d352d1b1e86c4ed4d2
a8701d09c86be4e3d5889284b9f925bc8598bad3
'2011-11-14T22:55:09-05:00'
describe
'985666' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSKA' 'sip-files00010.jp2'
2a573e2aa003ffcd44086c8832b5f685
858662a94bd07051fdda92e53f2db9abc60e072e
'2011-11-14T22:55:07-05:00'
describe
'64412' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSKB' 'sip-files00010.jpg'
755e97611649d041ed2bf911b3f55470
da2d5d06fb8c64c479c55efa88763d3e59fe950b
'2011-11-14T22:55:17-05:00'
describe
'24421' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSKC' 'sip-files00010.pro'
761b1361675232ca323ad28816c96abe
70049e797eb07a93d6299c3d7367a6dc7a06bd63
'2011-11-14T23:00:25-05:00'
describe
'24299' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSKD' 'sip-files00010.QC.jpg'
fa5265ef6b7f4272aff573087c7f66f6
19593f6c3fcfb43c6e42420e86107e7fcca2855b
'2011-11-14T22:55:19-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSKE' 'sip-files00010.tif'
23efd574e086cfaad9e4e801ad6ca53e
82babfcc97ff24cd153e1a9af0465822a09b602e
'2011-11-14T22:59:56-05:00'
describe
'1033' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSKF' 'sip-files00010.txt'
61ad5cd04205b66eee2e4a03a0d40071
b7fbc86ea0a526a909231cf0db64d6455e6b0475
'2011-11-14T23:01:18-05:00'
describe
'8393' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSKG' 'sip-files00010thm.jpg'
5b021f44bfee6c85a87b78f69657e4ba
820b3f3a34e56aaef1acb991a8c08f23526d51f4
'2011-11-14T22:59:33-05:00'
describe
'536940' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSKH' 'sip-files00011.jp2'
c9652dd33260bb8528819b1ce5d6e786
81fadfb2dec6cb49f271ed1f5c5433e639cf2b33
describe
'10929' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSKI' 'sip-files00011.jpg'
38a3405940668f7a038d8345fdc3ab9f
5494d39fcffa6b5ae7452211f8c6801e50a98ed5
'2011-11-14T23:01:02-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSKJ' 'sip-files00011.pro'
f1f161b49c93a5dae4cf8da50971e467
c461a012d7d5ba2a50cead168a473a8b986f0e1f
describe
'3105' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSKK' 'sip-files00011.QC.jpg'
e71b6f07dd0edf19d042338ab364198b
de3307f856ea7886ac8eb33ddce2973df793a077
'2011-11-14T22:54:50-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSKL' 'sip-files00011.tif'
37017b8c2220bbc130b06f2b8a77ae81
9b7fdd16529a122bf87360d01a4071a59d3b38d5
'2011-11-14T22:55:10-05:00'
describe
'1299' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSKM' 'sip-files00011thm.jpg'
a2c119789ca1d0b9f43cc33a68ed3658
441c45f49e68175cca3e11eb2aa2a0825f4e2c79
'2011-11-14T22:54:52-05:00'
describe
'969421' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSKN' 'sip-files00012.jp2'
3f41a1c93eac2c3f3ad45c8a70e35990
34ce893be21905c11905ee0163206e41888e1b5b
'2011-11-14T22:56:52-05:00'
describe
'54457' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSKO' 'sip-files00012.jpg'
7c4b471fa236d6da647b2836b2ceaa9b
541dcfa9b01a2d6b42fa9b7e7fac52c1b0e7f994
describe
'18986' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSKP' 'sip-files00012.pro'
2d48120a0e52ba263e30dc337aeead33
e43ce13f0b9c740ddfdb429a186f2db23a548839
'2011-11-14T22:58:17-05:00'
describe
'19781' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSKQ' 'sip-files00012.QC.jpg'
313782c43634fe55ee2e97ec4ef33eab
2a93b3e9937398a1fe3189229b2521b160777813
'2011-11-14T22:59:21-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSKR' 'sip-files00012.tif'
071277191dc621b1d6f490f69135ed62
af0c04d7922d0fa5a18ec301aa9dabb96eb19f81
'2011-11-14T22:58:26-05:00'
describe
'828' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSKS' 'sip-files00012.txt'
3dbbc2b0e0a7ae12574b39362f20320c
4549f7995a5c544a8b32043b30c0c77a4ca75158
'2011-11-14T22:55:32-05:00'
describe
'6754' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSKT' 'sip-files00012thm.jpg'
60ede5a8cbe7579fc764958edb4ec416
e76c92a8d4742ee3a199899a3cfb7e09fd02acec
'2011-11-14T22:57:25-05:00'
describe
'1033249' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSKU' 'sip-files00013.jp2'
1a50422d3a764c8ca4452008c17e52ed
9fb5b4025022395dbf541de3652c5b58a8ece9b9
'2011-11-14T23:01:08-05:00'
describe
'71062' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSKV' 'sip-files00013.jpg'
b946519bf7046458b7a84a8567b1253e
4c0cc3a5565f6ede8f8e81724c0a46b24730f65a
'2011-11-14T22:57:18-05:00'
describe
'29110' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSKW' 'sip-files00013.pro'
4ab26e1f3d13874691857216a293f13c
0f0ddfa58e9d9e06dd5cf72c43e337f91e853aba
'2011-11-14T23:01:44-05:00'
describe
'27344' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSKX' 'sip-files00013.QC.jpg'
4f00b03a38ac66f0e661b83dab68d08d
3a24813dfbe118a9e28ac88d6dce8ee3eca6ce2f
'2011-11-14T22:59:11-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSKY' 'sip-files00013.tif'
6cc8d5f4d98e1d4964cf1f71b0299999
48f981adb83f993c027ea2003dfc5dc59a68e596
'2011-11-14T22:55:39-05:00'
describe
'1163' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSKZ' 'sip-files00013.txt'
00e0754920f3f7604935d23b332d5312
250dc69c1dbe6c47d588fbbb59302f9d261ba4a7
'2011-11-14T22:56:26-05:00'
describe
'9386' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSLA' 'sip-files00013thm.jpg'
e88b367c6f567ccd7a7afa503d2cfa17
b795c388354cce732b504c493cea7fe5777d8ee4
describe
'1059727' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSLB' 'sip-files00014.jp2'
d4e91ffa0f79a9ecc37b5844b32017e4
aa98483010ae5d132a53af59864f6afd9059ae28
'2011-11-14T22:56:14-05:00'
describe
'74280' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSLC' 'sip-files00014.jpg'
674d1b8626e297da1b3cc03d88cbc287
b41958850335c12c362f6f46bf5c5e47cb01f167
'2011-11-14T22:55:49-05:00'
describe
'28361' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSLD' 'sip-files00014.pro'
47a7d5f2c1365bdfc9c5d36f303a85bc
8413db0a886f7edfd23dfa1f6292e68f45dc7c8d
describe
'27454' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSLE' 'sip-files00014.QC.jpg'
e72b983e7931aa7ddba736209f7063ce
3e730bf2f77468484260cbd98e733b20e5976592
'2011-11-14T22:57:14-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSLF' 'sip-files00014.tif'
88fb1936a5be4243650804d682951739
2e39f96b716b869d8b03feb2ab731efb4fd97dbc
'2011-11-14T22:56:02-05:00'
describe
'1171' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSLG' 'sip-files00014.txt'
c5c3e20c4fc27d66e770c05e8aa196e2
a5464de8370864893cd793e5f6ead94d19cbbf0e
'2011-11-14T22:57:26-05:00'
describe
'9478' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSLH' 'sip-files00014thm.jpg'
39df79fdfa1f82ab97fd85846395deba
2d9e10d8d3cde6b2ea334c55a5e23c85a8c9fb7b
'2011-11-14T22:55:47-05:00'
describe
'1042843' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSLI' 'sip-files00015.jp2'
7dea7a5e58386a8ef15713eb23d73e44
a307582b12169e9af32a5758f0cdb119acf385fe
'2011-11-14T22:58:48-05:00'
describe
'76801' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSLJ' 'sip-files00015.jpg'
37338bd91e0276d615ccc2f87c4f3b7d
a52a7e5e304a7a74267642f7ba229be7e8c44d18
'2011-11-14T22:57:32-05:00'
describe
'29903' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSLK' 'sip-files00015.pro'
d2569618fb04d0176a597de8c7d5d218
244a54ff6f6e375d8ae4d5de62d2cd7f0bc7b9ce
'2011-11-14T22:59:00-05:00'
describe
'28614' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSLL' 'sip-files00015.QC.jpg'
7872687b1f167fe584dffff7b57e6a7e
5dac3e13fabab76adbf2d15aabab6626b2890ff3
'2011-11-14T22:59:23-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSLM' 'sip-files00015.tif'
a5e3d34fd0beccdf29a4ccc2fa42744d
cab67ce450c28246979a20f352157e6eff74f4eb
'2011-11-14T23:00:32-05:00'
describe
'1197' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSLN' 'sip-files00015.txt'
70ff415ab9a431114dec68827e4adaa4
07862b58c8654ebdb05e04cae5112692d3cd5922
describe
'9898' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSLO' 'sip-files00015thm.jpg'
5389b395ac3e71bf2d7a51be220bfab2
8afa78c0f4acf29c95731e9bb1d5b390821457c9
describe
'1059589' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSLP' 'sip-files00016.jp2'
1747e82280549a7b100f9b4e3439bb28
9a91749c38a4103b3067a279017bb94eaf9ecd03
'2011-11-14T22:58:06-05:00'
describe
'71423' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSLQ' 'sip-files00016.jpg'
2982dd3e3bd7367e016ae6f600a84907
4d6e269c84f06909aa150f43498cc584076631dd
'2011-11-14T22:57:35-05:00'
describe
'26728' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSLR' 'sip-files00016.pro'
e92b73d8a8058bf3df2a550e12f8dfde
6c02158f14275b3972fd903586bef2937334612b
'2011-11-14T23:00:40-05:00'
describe
'26503' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSLS' 'sip-files00016.QC.jpg'
29af5e6fc73b37a2605e7761be718a53
9b6d01ff1043851865faf6b96a155b766cbb3b8a
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSLT' 'sip-files00016.tif'
746a8d58139b3d9db20958d6dd927e1a
0e94f0b7ac6b295e50e04220ae2b9907b789b886
describe
'1099' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSLU' 'sip-files00016.txt'
93b37dc15472b361a50b502ddfdec2b4
b323b0783e5553d9a65a0026047f5a8448e1496d
describe
'8980' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSLV' 'sip-files00016thm.jpg'
071565e1fa9eee52943f5d3bea6d1e70
653502cbb871f8165550935e43b0b1275c885f75
'2011-11-14T22:55:52-05:00'
describe
'1042887' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSLW' 'sip-files00017.jp2'
8f2859ddabd177b337af4fad03601d26
afbc9e15baef4527b8961622a0bfb962bea419ff
'2011-11-14T22:57:28-05:00'
describe
'72293' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSLX' 'sip-files00017.jpg'
62a18cdc5b82560f449da81527235b89
3f36eb8deba930378502076071388741d3569e35
describe
'28757' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSLY' 'sip-files00017.pro'
756b079bd7f772db58577b90700b7a07
afc12cca638b76bb960d96b9a9c129c0d3ad73b4
'2011-11-14T23:00:26-05:00'
describe
'27339' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSLZ' 'sip-files00017.QC.jpg'
299c42372b6f959f91ed1b900737519e
ed0b5e43f29caa16bb3ad9cb064858b69cc4bd98
'2011-11-14T23:00:37-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSMA' 'sip-files00017.tif'
e792cf1bb301cdeea7f4c96c2dfb1518
2f04c622815280057996321453becd3868a465bf
'2011-11-14T22:55:48-05:00'
describe
'1153' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSMB' 'sip-files00017.txt'
4aa3b1a422bcf1f78b13e6cfa8822b85
3fc715a5990df741085936d9ca50c65a64acb8de
describe
'9375' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSMC' 'sip-files00017thm.jpg'
b7ec01aef9f023b6e3cdaf15e2addd3f
ebb75f7c7fa10575a13123ffdf1af0ec1b7a9d38
'2011-11-14T22:57:13-05:00'
describe
'1059737' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSMD' 'sip-files00018.jp2'
61513cb31eaf3ab47d60a5e24f07f7aa
5f7682537120d3ae5e9cbe285c524e5ab10bb7ef
'2011-11-14T22:54:47-05:00'
describe
'68664' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSME' 'sip-files00018.jpg'
d7a746aa866059c67686fe8f3d7ff7d3
48e9f8a7d883d7249cbe64ec9d6d80bf73eb5074
'2011-11-14T22:56:49-05:00'
describe
'26075' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSMF' 'sip-files00018.pro'
cc0470d4810d24f91e77406b5f731583
398945b1732783e74ee133245f4f7e1a01dd6321
'2011-11-14T22:56:59-05:00'
describe
'25899' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSMG' 'sip-files00018.QC.jpg'
f2a0db9e9ba1a8b59ad70ae486571c65
555d74cca9c30404b7007d0729e8c11a41aab7e2
'2011-11-14T22:56:42-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSMH' 'sip-files00018.tif'
d43926ff718c57aae2a5119f2f568f93
5b02c94a7d7af300f83aad207f459dc00f453b2f
'2011-11-14T22:56:06-05:00'
describe
'1052' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSMI' 'sip-files00018.txt'
1f6db5315745d51231937116c1f69296
c183b5df49dbdee20c322aecd39cf92e5977be4f
describe
'8739' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSMJ' 'sip-files00018thm.jpg'
f7340f4263d0fb8bac15f14c246eae34
7c35471c686b0cec76414f62bca0401e4f5f82bc
describe
'1040461' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSMK' 'sip-files00019.jp2'
cbc7c0a754030700436c4f8b0b0923e4
0ccce59b7759b519197b16f4fa39519f23a363d2
'2011-11-14T22:55:50-05:00'
describe
'65757' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSML' 'sip-files00019.jpg'
dc3b08e315c971ad64c34104ecae308f
91fad04888addbe60f8105807f8717474b838067
'2011-11-14T22:58:22-05:00'
describe
'25225' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSMM' 'sip-files00019.pro'
cf6832c2ba3100885e6a9772ee0df321
1afe23d10757609dc3a8c8bd7a84b529ea7291f2
'2011-11-14T22:56:22-05:00'
describe
'24897' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSMN' 'sip-files00019.QC.jpg'
32156530e19b2fab9427b26e3402ccb2
015e4a09f898ec9e32b9f74807b25d2ebac5d672
describe
'8623775' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSMO' 'sip-files00019.tif'
5b10b2a441dc0bfec4f3911be3b9e2f3
29d8c669accd24d5fd56f45516b160a8bc51d904
'2011-11-14T23:00:34-05:00'
describe
'1042' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSMP' 'sip-files00019.txt'
325851fc81bf6f587cff44555b6722fa
e662dd7beaf2aa06b92a913e20cabc5b3a32d00f
describe
'9081' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSMQ' 'sip-files00019thm.jpg'
cac03e5a44aabfd184a6e35d072c16d1
a43094b94a6aff4acced20e8d33eb21e3a741d14
'2011-11-14T23:00:18-05:00'
describe
'941177' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSMR' 'sip-files00020.jp2'
b161ae9dc9df713ec0b6784079c9744c
7f101562aacc01c4d873fb3e97f27d925a5a48c6
'2011-11-14T22:55:02-05:00'
describe
'51652' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSMS' 'sip-files00020.jpg'
8bb5478a2bd951b3a8bf892666bd6dc4
5d8ab8c3a30b0f04a73d0ff78b8fab97674ad2c3
'2011-11-14T22:57:34-05:00'
describe
'17806' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSMT' 'sip-files00020.pro'
e11fe809183902581126edbee3262171
121c435390e63b677217c3b01cc963764e4eceb1
'2011-11-14T22:59:17-05:00'
describe
'19057' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSMU' 'sip-files00020.QC.jpg'
e9d3ef0bb957c8ca7ade608087e16882
36590236e40a43f48b7b6ffc405e388d6ee57bcc
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSMV' 'sip-files00020.tif'
8d83d456afa3bccb7e3908387a34e4a8
438e2a756fc7c25c255c79a8859d54729080ed19
describe
'751' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSMW' 'sip-files00020.txt'
f06532a808717908ca2b073854eb2f0b
5a954552e060603bd5f1438937e123992293584e
'2011-11-14T23:00:50-05:00'
describe
'6629' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSMX' 'sip-files00020thm.jpg'
d1ba9ef5c413b6d11b2e5b307560217b
c8903571e84ada2d7f15896458a78f1bd87f6c32
'2011-11-14T22:56:27-05:00'
describe
'545859' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSMY' 'sip-files00021.jp2'
cdc6ef24228f9bc3e445fb6f765eef76
e5dc4ad1152d8f80a3c282d79eb20e3ba207f7c3
describe
'11017' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSMZ' 'sip-files00021.jpg'
91782e5fcb73e16283de30e4641ad7fb
c44f5992e3a753e88b23c5f98432cfa0b1b827b2
'2011-11-14T22:55:45-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSNA' 'sip-files00021.pro'
2512828731ff8744cfbf8f1b85aa5fd2
774f10e073a9a4623c0329f6c2dcbd95a94dd592
describe
'3319' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSNB' 'sip-files00021.QC.jpg'
0825f33d787fbb8777eaf1eb108b79a8
a0a91d69c542584f3ee9f366ec32da01d69f5fa1
'2011-11-14T22:59:46-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSNC' 'sip-files00021.tif'
7b6c2ec71d1ca42bea3600958ba58757
9320662b9f34732b1b4fd2662fb769535be41c89
'2011-11-14T23:01:41-05:00'
describe
'1375' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSND' 'sip-files00021thm.jpg'
46e81c464997acf65978edce2b982f2d
e5080575a87ec056c0c757778056bfa93b7d4eba
'2011-11-14T23:01:32-05:00'
describe
'941521' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSNE' 'sip-files00022.jp2'
d5c92ca2aaa97383b4662d5b6d82dd8f
cf507316fcf917363a17ac9d2a495e514fb6d1b7
'2011-11-14T22:58:43-05:00'
describe
'53364' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSNF' 'sip-files00022.jpg'
704c48d7f921a237c3519c89d045f5c9
fd4ff69a9bca65d413bbd9403658bc28f724a535
'2011-11-14T22:57:02-05:00'
describe
'17019' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSNG' 'sip-files00022.pro'
081cc2f8568f1b657db57f182285e61e
6d360a744d96667bc3f4d763d8d5b13931275af6
describe
'19309' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSNH' 'sip-files00022.QC.jpg'
3c3850762243b242f984f3d41485864c
9e3fb2ad7978f5db6f2ad10db1027e0141dadfe6
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSNI' 'sip-files00022.tif'
a83bc522066f896b7820d0ddee891d8d
b804e8e05020a0dc199a7e678d6b78b339479ecc
'2011-11-14T22:58:10-05:00'
describe
'771' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSNJ' 'sip-files00022.txt'
f23a5fae268d16620b79d040d28cf222
8f7b61b18e946a41936c88f4ac3468423dd89482
'2011-11-14T22:56:50-05:00'
describe
'6476' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSNK' 'sip-files00022thm.jpg'
faaef0788784c691551f369d11262533
9061745548dccc400a4a6b1305ca8ef4d216cdcc
describe
'1039468' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSNL' 'sip-files00023.jp2'
dbfb06e81adf55640cb03fe7cc9baabc
7900e66bee8af9cdef8ae2c4a9550912ce31fa92
'2011-11-14T23:01:38-05:00'
describe
'88371' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSNM' 'sip-files00023.jpg'
b0e8ef70be923ace1bf89fdaa84b95a6
c966730ea1ccbdf696fde2554421608d103544ca
'2011-11-14T23:00:12-05:00'
describe
'34551' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSNN' 'sip-files00023.pro'
0988e49c6670c920217cefeb77b513db
c2bd3eb971b40344b950b9a0d90c40ab2a6b8b9c
'2011-11-14T22:57:29-05:00'
describe
'32971' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSNO' 'sip-files00023.QC.jpg'
3826915a54edd863a5cec58b5cd20048
086eed9b1722a43a34ace7ce13cd7c1da630963a
'2011-11-14T22:55:37-05:00'
describe
'8325591' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSNP' 'sip-files00023.tif'
5462a22d235f1ee648b86340bf36566d
871371171e40d1bc2f39bc21d72d4ba921e0995e
'2011-11-14T22:56:01-05:00'
describe
'1401' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSNQ' 'sip-files00023.txt'
5ea3e4cda3835b822c59389593ead99f
73c41ddb3d1293386ceb1b54446595598ca7c3be
'2011-11-14T22:54:51-05:00'
describe
'10702' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSNR' 'sip-files00023thm.jpg'
596780c7a5e7cf46a4d5c83e61d89e25
a35250afa18295bf6dd8fba3bbd38440cc6f1a11
'2011-11-14T22:59:03-05:00'
describe
'1009535' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSNS' 'sip-files00024.jp2'
3259a3c3901b2221fe8c22895663eb32
c4c55337f315a373c84456f5f79e81dca4b25f9b
'2011-11-14T23:00:46-05:00'
describe
'86400' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSNT' 'sip-files00024.jpg'
6bad7b3c2c1e02d0862bc3fa956bdb0d
f4acc83ab3b7973eec05a6697225becf565fd6ad
'2011-11-14T22:59:40-05:00'
describe
'34126' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSNU' 'sip-files00024.pro'
0875a501b45832de0c2d364a9f6134ad
5368dfdfe341d8f4f19e418689f7f1fa51e92e2f
'2011-11-14T22:55:58-05:00'
describe
'32062' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSNV' 'sip-files00024.QC.jpg'
e9d89dd99b3c6159c33fcb18f9f2113a
a2b13122bfe67556a5ce930b44195fd648d452cd
describe
'8086161' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSNW' 'sip-files00024.tif'
7772bc1eda4d1e1425ff9d1ef946da37
1c9d4d879c690cf5d67ecfe49c9319da9e6fac22
'2011-11-14T23:00:49-05:00'
describe
'1412' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSNX' 'sip-files00024.txt'
69b4b53f746f9e069349ff80f4649436
a29149fc7073cd7ec6b16342538158e56d6b63be
'2011-11-14T22:58:04-05:00'
describe
'10847' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSNY' 'sip-files00024thm.jpg'
6ee0773f1eaab3cad0cc5eb8adaaf7eb
e0c9f8c5b2d817f90a9f49268107fd37dac99eed
'2011-11-14T22:59:13-05:00'
describe
'1034039' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSNZ' 'sip-files00025.jp2'
ca2bb1219c9b80149650de9ef9eafa67
596f7255c78ff8153d211a1f344d97dbd9637d28
'2011-11-14T23:00:14-05:00'
describe
'89766' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSOA' 'sip-files00025.jpg'
0b22d71869022a1c61c94f3da5909b9c
0f212243f99c5f4410a045b1d10365767744468f
describe
'35741' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSOB' 'sip-files00025.pro'
7c344b86b10bf2db2a6a55ecb4d3c2dc
4e939e387eb70282cd89b2b5c48167639e8307d9
describe
'33576' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSOC' 'sip-files00025.QC.jpg'
045e28fb3ccf070b7bd8b59845f90d5c
106d5596b82dab62a04bb4cd633165083dd448f4
'2011-11-14T23:00:31-05:00'
describe
'8282241' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSOD' 'sip-files00025.tif'
6f78eede0774d54ab3344b9977e79f7d
2706470f652955fa80a26c48926ddaca8ff04bfa
describe
'1452' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSOE' 'sip-files00025.txt'
c7483eb1f69a439f9e185d78394db90b
3bec05880884fbae9919a7951bb936ce2f09af8e
'2011-11-14T22:57:27-05:00'
describe
'10976' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSOF' 'sip-files00025thm.jpg'
e2df0b992775d926a6c4eaf7727569e3
2c578b67de94d8073fff459c550939a0fea68e27
'2011-11-14T22:59:04-05:00'
describe
'1000362' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSOG' 'sip-files00026.jp2'
2a0f18a7ec8d7d03178bb12ebbfd56ae
a576c4d4748010575f2dbe7d650521db3524cadc
'2011-11-14T22:58:23-05:00'
describe
'84073' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSOH' 'sip-files00026.jpg'
348d0da234d75d81d68724e9608844b4
43adc92ce8201974fd66ec5c095cbe8116656e0f
'2011-11-14T22:57:33-05:00'
describe
'33433' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSOI' 'sip-files00026.pro'
e60572d5e700998a6bfc400f618c041f
f0bbf900c8024d2cbf6bb9e5c7579ef93343c81a
'2011-11-14T22:55:46-05:00'
describe
'31449' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSOJ' 'sip-files00026.QC.jpg'
37d42e58f41be4f9c99d71c186da39d8
59691b7ae302a81bf9903dfca6b4fc5bd1b7c293
describe
'8012867' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSOK' 'sip-files00026.tif'
7a194713145e931af14bbb4ea6531876
f9e3619330d6f61a85449e58cb11037276fe92ec
'2011-11-14T22:56:05-05:00'
describe
'1349' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSOL' 'sip-files00026.txt'
26ece1095099717ca1d1fb3a9a94b375
9384d91929fa533fc325ed8369275c8e77760af7
'2011-11-14T22:56:46-05:00'
describe
'10714' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSOM' 'sip-files00026thm.jpg'
79d71d81388e1d224c8bdedb39923f53
6e3a5168252e44d3f90dc1685606fac2cfb90d8b
'2011-11-14T23:00:21-05:00'
describe
'1012002' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSON' 'sip-files00027.jp2'
9b515621470e0edc1ceacfd519344f08
dc470f427640284bbb635ef5ec774846c7638e18
'2011-11-14T23:01:14-05:00'
describe
'88876' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSOO' 'sip-files00027.jpg'
4cfe28320cd22265e0e54f3cbe1ed3e4
defd5276044dcb49688b00fbea2929ce983916cf
describe
'35074' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSOP' 'sip-files00027.pro'
aeb73281f5b557dd3e3117ce14b4b085
9b3473e452c1964ac2fc9e55d205670733435182
describe
'32681' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSOQ' 'sip-files00027.QC.jpg'
db703909ef360395786d1a8f25ba3b4e
ed45eaa3951ca201b25cadbb4cdf754a932652fd
'2011-11-14T22:57:15-05:00'
describe
'8105835' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSOR' 'sip-files00027.tif'
d673c74dde2eb796cd5860aef984583a
2975a1cf17e23730d0bd62070d1ba03cd45fc3ec
'2011-11-14T22:55:36-05:00'
describe
'1426' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSOS' 'sip-files00027.txt'
e792b479fcd6581673bceb452b2182cd
c82df5a1b02fc7a0ceea5e70d9bb12fce5f1f917
'2011-11-14T22:57:41-05:00'
describe
'11023' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSOT' 'sip-files00027thm.jpg'
190357a0a6c831d873ca890e08ca591f
263e65db583c536b439251489b4a9283de79332f
describe
'1048015' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSOU' 'sip-files00028.jp2'
4df0ee37546e536d3adfe2b50c7f1b47
3809ee69bf28fdf85b1eac599c4fd369032cd0b9
'2011-11-14T22:56:37-05:00'
describe
'85664' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSOV' 'sip-files00028.jpg'
48ee9a43e4909bf95e8dba982f4abc20
40f86fe8de6f8fb3a1edb2460784ed6834cbd30e
'2011-11-14T23:00:58-05:00'
describe
'33574' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSOW' 'sip-files00028.pro'
56b882d09e6251fb2db2fb1383605563
3c4615388cafa9d759c3266a409bfe9c1e53bd38
'2011-11-14T22:55:31-05:00'
describe
'31692' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSOX' 'sip-files00028.QC.jpg'
22d313edffd97e9bb9ab45fb2291377b
79e1934fd4a6c6d6e7224bc80785ce72f9232d19
'2011-11-14T22:56:15-05:00'
describe
'8394109' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSOY' 'sip-files00028.tif'
3d3f7572b4dbdc73b609a9239c8dece8
ec6014c86d9845e7265469671f1bfbc7358192f4
'2011-11-14T22:57:10-05:00'
describe
'1343' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSOZ' 'sip-files00028.txt'
a3c853a7f0e2858279ba5a9bbc1d9524
f3f6a78ef6e32c35dcf82f802fd8752be57a11c9
'2011-11-14T23:01:11-05:00'
describe
'10104' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSPA' 'sip-files00028thm.jpg'
e21a3628a7fd2dd5129e810c9602074e
187c93c2f47d6eb14fe0a728a599586cc4ca9661
'2011-11-14T22:56:21-05:00'
describe
'1030143' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSPB' 'sip-files00029.jp2'
581bacfd2690c4b486a5ce559104591d
7f601b3a0874c8afac7e58fec7f057bb863ae6f5
'2011-11-14T22:58:18-05:00'
describe
'81943' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSPC' 'sip-files00029.jpg'
16ca0c32159bc51f0f0ec216ba52d067
07ae3c5c0b36c9c4b0bdc2e3f6b721e5ea39f82a
describe
'31821' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSPD' 'sip-files00029.pro'
4af7f6698fb090178f3d1c27924f34e8
7450f88a4b5c68423b6efb7a35ae3a3e5af6fb41
describe
'30247' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSPE' 'sip-files00029.QC.jpg'
546640c5d65a42e21fe61f6375b27cbc
2328e010fbe7f079d21e7d977db7a0ced8e338e4
'2011-11-14T22:59:48-05:00'
describe
'8251377' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSPF' 'sip-files00029.tif'
24ebf235314a0f71bbd755f28ea4f18f
c9990f95f3de28552ab9cdaecf1d6571e010f03a
'2011-11-14T22:56:11-05:00'
describe
'1296' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSPG' 'sip-files00029.txt'
71c323954a749839e5d12c7fbad80c89
8613edbe3a7903436b3f8f9dbc7b9f35715f0315
describe
'10206' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSPH' 'sip-files00029thm.jpg'
f157378de0ffa202205cb4aa01b28f6e
97749820414b3cc434b6d338fa3ee69a261c41fc
'2011-11-14T22:58:19-05:00'
describe
'1047988' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSPI' 'sip-files00030.jp2'
6e86ba81dd38345e0912e7079ad984f8
c84da2485cfb1d0b84c4c8c3d29902b0e48050f8
'2011-11-14T22:55:56-05:00'
describe
'87625' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSPJ' 'sip-files00030.jpg'
f6cb43c1cbbed8620c6cce5a50a4b202
89e6c31a7b7b6c0cf7758a806ded8c1fdfdb75f8
'2011-11-14T22:55:00-05:00'
describe
'34372' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSPK' 'sip-files00030.pro'
24cc3f076305b4fdb082b643d66525c0
4b179e8886a25ec629fbeaae523c5a17d95fd885
describe
'32395' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSPL' 'sip-files00030.QC.jpg'
bd38bcb297cb8150c8e3c652b18c1d27
0cccb29667507bc944e94576f1e83e79ca697ff8
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSPM' 'sip-files00030.tif'
dbfc6caf27f191c5fd61727e97d0875b
79bd2dde1d31a159fbcae211e47cb08e5a8c22b8
'2011-11-14T23:01:16-05:00'
describe
'1384' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSPN' 'sip-files00030.txt'
05752139ee82b5824f1f4103bc7b2fba
4a299b84dfc4b5ec9f862b6ea38864f00faacd02
'2011-11-14T22:56:07-05:00'
describe
'10442' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSPO' 'sip-files00030thm.jpg'
744313be3935a7d080fdf0f4bd45b872
e9d6bb1575f524cecabbdf023f343cc09a236617
'2011-11-14T23:01:01-05:00'
describe
'1018240' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSPP' 'sip-files00031.jp2'
3710fef42200addf8809f22b4ba28a68
643f7b5fab976f7cab2427a43b06880d2c4c702e
'2011-11-14T22:59:26-05:00'
describe
'83591' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSPQ' 'sip-files00031.jpg'
eeb4944233f9c91920f26db8d5690d32
4ec3ebde2ba4886af1a33ced5919502648c94c45
'2011-11-14T23:01:28-05:00'
describe
'32688' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSPR' 'sip-files00031.pro'
17318b66c6bf469c976ae194ec6d5055
0dcaad240e611861fe59361e8a4419fbe6f087e9
describe
'31385' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSPS' 'sip-files00031.QC.jpg'
419057c050e341efb58d98d8dc030d1b
078cf725064e8c1bd67e721ca738aff0b1d49116
'2011-11-14T22:55:18-05:00'
describe
'8155923' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSPT' 'sip-files00031.tif'
31aa73ece17545add2bf22ad684e2e3f
d3d85042ad7b14ff61f96335d55a582e87f0f21a
'2011-11-14T22:56:10-05:00'
describe
'1300' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSPU' 'sip-files00031.txt'
f25e8b389570cd357fea1117094cf27d
2607c581e6e19b966d2278bbab4192d03e8380c3
describe
'10181' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSPV' 'sip-files00031thm.jpg'
9353466f21187a046a0880cd3eb3cc7e
c51a9b2587eed28d57fff5e35b86dc31146dbc79
'2011-11-14T22:55:11-05:00'
describe
'1048016' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSPW' 'sip-files00032.jp2'
d19699aad5079a5b2cd000a967cd2058
42d17a7ebb04f3815cb8f15c4e824251ae47ceda
describe
'90432' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSPX' 'sip-files00032.jpg'
39ad622acec02dd4c8b0b5825664d733
9697ad7951a22ee5e9d8fbb59965d1df3631b4a8
'2011-11-14T23:01:00-05:00'
describe
'36053' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSPY' 'sip-files00032.pro'
81ac60f22c81b61d3038c2998c2c9925
b4a9ddfc20a89e746e88cf982c5ebccc3bbf1056
describe
'33320' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSPZ' 'sip-files00032.QC.jpg'
bf26d90a3dcdf326aaeea3fa88fb200e
46c43cbf185f288c53dcd1f79a1bb19d4c4bd71b
describe
'8394123' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSQA' 'sip-files00032.tif'
b75bd1f8d9e6d661888e6c2530d386f7
bf852312a239efde9341baa2588b66c49d2e6024
'2011-11-14T22:59:29-05:00'
describe
'1490' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSQB' 'sip-files00032.txt'
ea371d9ca4b13386c12c27f151ebc23d
bd570c7f44d9be900aaf3ba20f4f434a35f902c4
'2011-11-14T22:57:44-05:00'
describe
'10495' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSQC' 'sip-files00032thm.jpg'
a01beed07870e9eb0a80162f953cbdc8
7e6ca8296f16e6b5f52ed11e37b45c803ab18660
describe
'1029872' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSQD' 'sip-files00033.jp2'
a87dc371f500ef26a78b4e8e77fe45db
ecead491d7947dbf85828f042bc7d52e4aedb4d1
describe
'85545' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSQE' 'sip-files00033.jpg'
a9b040649a4c7b7b8b8f6faec668f745
59d5737ff000bbf5c6e3052b95d0dd28e850c5db
describe
'34658' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSQF' 'sip-files00033.pro'
1087ac1a2f2b9d46c889a4d51b68636f
669c9a92a31dbb0c53103583c98d24a669917142
'2011-11-14T22:57:09-05:00'
describe
'31636' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSQG' 'sip-files00033.QC.jpg'
c512e1a0a3a9b1acb5daffea6b95453f
3f6d2c8a39ee4d468df6e8ddbb89d72114fd2cb1
describe
'8249159' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSQH' 'sip-files00033.tif'
68f42248b85104b33b454c64161a89e4
dffdc0d3e49a83c4701688eb569b3b408d063821
'2011-11-14T22:54:49-05:00'
describe
'1404' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSQI' 'sip-files00033.txt'
ef41be6615c1e4cf973a3228dc431e38
abb14e029d469d28e9b6d3403937d66cdd372b5b
'2011-11-14T22:58:21-05:00'
describe
'10673' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSQJ' 'sip-files00033thm.jpg'
045f73eb8f3661807d3c2000b39bae6a
646f3973cb9c243d3a0a14d8f5f3b7dc128c1f5e
'2011-11-14T22:57:04-05:00'
describe
'1048033' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSQK' 'sip-files00034.jp2'
36378dfeb0817bc2baee54addec2e414
6954ad46d52aecbf851311f05e45516d9a632174
describe
'83564' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSQL' 'sip-files00034.jpg'
550cc0fc2fa79341303dc3b84c948862
8804f1706dc815d172768ced081c68332433db9c
'2011-11-14T23:01:35-05:00'
describe
'33706' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSQM' 'sip-files00034.pro'
8a96e6ed41355946dbc8e0aecef47b3d
a5760bdd2e48fb4e3e1a90188628e6e7b9659af0
'2011-11-14T23:00:16-05:00'
describe
'30644' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSQN' 'sip-files00034.QC.jpg'
1a26a8dcaf55bb0cfc3a60126f6583ac
52cd9b94603353e8c4acf486d2864640ecac553f
'2011-11-14T22:59:45-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSQO' 'sip-files00034.tif'
e2d625e816b672c4a3a9145e2ae6df11
418dfe381b22fb80e2343facc703e0bbf11fa8d7
'2011-11-14T22:54:45-05:00'
describe
'1419' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSQP' 'sip-files00034.txt'
f01cdb33631284f35332a47f46e1b6ca
9c31604610314ea7c34615e9b4791ff484714ec0
'2011-11-14T22:56:13-05:00'
describe
'9925' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSQQ' 'sip-files00034thm.jpg'
d77152a1c9e63e8b41932118a79bea2e
3ec2089271a28b22c43381a37b18dbefa26b3477
'2011-11-14T22:58:03-05:00'
describe
'1042894' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSQR' 'sip-files00035.jp2'
bbf07abb87c6dcd44fe6e12b48f174b3
2ce177b192f03eb10a20a0d375304f40c77109e1
describe
'89037' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSQS' 'sip-files00035.jpg'
51f67aca459a4cdc55ee69d9a315c70e
4ffba06c86e2e8ed0ada500edd245e2b75ada4ee
'2011-11-14T22:57:19-05:00'
describe
'36210' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSQT' 'sip-files00035.pro'
83bf69993c2cebd2e11759f2a9c4be82
a68bb1e02499eee0743a9b7af91609dfcd3d0b33
'2011-11-14T22:58:30-05:00'
describe
'32835' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSQU' 'sip-files00035.QC.jpg'
2dc06adc04a13225b726afe83c762c99
b7e3d975aefb0ee7b30b6d88fa7aacffe287b2fb
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSQV' 'sip-files00035.tif'
16f93d02009e8359648066c8a0b377bb
8436531c1d8a96c06aacd721f95322abbe7ea35b
'2011-11-14T23:00:03-05:00'
describe
'1428' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSQW' 'sip-files00035.txt'
3b75f213e1c6893199043f6d0148b8fd
ed18db47947669bf07b51c9acb41f47cdf85f85b
describe
'10394' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSQX' 'sip-files00035thm.jpg'
176efbd563a49da9684cf110da3579cc
ef5e32f10f4eb223078fb6ea355656d5681e643f
describe
'1059733' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSQY' 'sip-files00036.jp2'
70c7e9815c8612ca4cc5b34cc545a699
0b66b689188b64dfb95efcff3633c16a5f6555fa
'2011-11-14T22:58:55-05:00'
describe
'86829' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSQZ' 'sip-files00036.jpg'
7a1393f46597d50fd378d1ef71858de4
6411fd9a403dfc3e66e35159adfac719b7bc95fc
describe
'34508' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSRA' 'sip-files00036.pro'
1893dacae1a03099aa29c7bef6437225
bee128a65b6cc842413836f5a0c21a70bffd5691
describe
'32065' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSRB' 'sip-files00036.QC.jpg'
59aa4cd48d7c1191c8dcd7d7c6eb57ab
9fbc1953740bf917a6b738b42838010abd0d3c31
'2011-11-14T22:57:58-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSRC' 'sip-files00036.tif'
8ce3f87e5a391e1329c8102a31f27495
cc2881e14abd40021139450080df2cf40cfc40c2
describe
'1448' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSRD' 'sip-files00036.txt'
620b471d77b5e6230dd8b4530f3589f2
7c520274112681377d84e67e9411dca1ddc4ddef
describe
'9883' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSRE' 'sip-files00036thm.jpg'
46db7bd0f656e2485dccbba05fd8be78
05268d625adbcfff40ada99fde782283e79eafdf
describe
'1042934' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSRF' 'sip-files00037.jp2'
9cbd45641254e0116ded9d4096e246c0
f7a5ad917c4899d93e859a17fc0c64d416107b51
'2011-11-14T22:54:48-05:00'
describe
'82980' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSRG' 'sip-files00037.jpg'
fb3a452e9143f42ee1f427f7373cc574
07e873c1c65120f9f0f1e0325ef7d68506085060
'2011-11-14T22:58:40-05:00'
describe
'33464' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSRH' 'sip-files00037.pro'
ea42bce5813bb93e08e333bab1753a3b
2a284b101b3db78d9c9b781996621d4929634b86
describe
'30825' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSRI' 'sip-files00037.QC.jpg'
ebb0e0ac5eeb86f112d5ed67cb9b16f8
a9ddfb9e80122d6b77e6aecca30065c3613122e3
'2011-11-14T22:55:01-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSRJ' 'sip-files00037.tif'
f7bf5db9f359d16865ccceaccc861f8a
ccae670aacd74f92edf3853a652fd26900c144be
'2011-11-14T22:56:32-05:00'
describe
'1328' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSRK' 'sip-files00037.txt'
14aacca0977a24e3114a1516a29a72ee
eddb1b5f84cd1cdefe40e00bf79c14313f70935a
'2011-11-14T22:56:30-05:00'
describe
'9753' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSRL' 'sip-files00037thm.jpg'
61a73ce7894efd586af938115fc92526
96ccc38a8e18c7a8d975688c48fddca3c74a3841
describe
'1059716' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSRM' 'sip-files00038.jp2'
3e553b9789fd31ddb3e3500bda9f159a
e5a6ce633d3dd445136bd7c38d9981402949b31a
describe
'82895' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSRN' 'sip-files00038.jpg'
db6fe056ddef69ad11a13e29e37e7489
78ec486ace8b62a57624b4158607c77a4943033c
describe
'32822' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSRO' 'sip-files00038.pro'
ebe46ede29df888e276db0c3c37d34c8
3b24357b6bc619123792e3a1effa6f8d2833baad
'2011-11-14T22:56:38-05:00'
describe
'30851' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSRP' 'sip-files00038.QC.jpg'
7bfa9e44c7ac873223328ab803f55fbf
85862fe42c023ccd33d45c83c7fca78e7232f619
'2011-11-14T22:59:16-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSRQ' 'sip-files00038.tif'
8c659a68bcddd5b849f92f1f655b2682
730bebb3f655db861c3715602d80cf18efc5aa9b
'2011-11-14T23:01:30-05:00'
describe
'1335' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSRR' 'sip-files00038.txt'
867826391282001c19c90040a18d9a6c
c78313309b8123d8839915606ba78ff8d6e21080
describe
'9470' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSRS' 'sip-files00038thm.jpg'
3326f328443d1e71caa15469e665ced2
54b3e20c8bf25ac29d3caf57cc632f4213ed0e48
'2011-11-14T22:57:54-05:00'
describe
'1042901' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSRT' 'sip-files00039.jp2'
c50600ff275480e8bbe397772954fe88
2b7b8165283775b48a0b4563db59789b9b179573
describe
'81290' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSRU' 'sip-files00039.jpg'
b88fe2b3ab5a96ff229b80dcd43f4597
5f58165ff1338e64064fddbc8920fbb210c199bd
'2011-11-14T22:55:05-05:00'
describe
'32906' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSRV' 'sip-files00039.pro'
56141149d01c04b97700501ec1ad8e5c
35c629370f9a8ac6d6f5920488d5ab4abb109633
'2011-11-14T22:57:24-05:00'
describe
'30087' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSRW' 'sip-files00039.QC.jpg'
7ab3a314f0de2b415d9d680a6b15f0ef
d1518e8c31e91b35ce80bfa1867d81e06e605a13
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSRX' 'sip-files00039.tif'
614effdfaa07ade7240ac82a18155835
a6c58da0996545ee089dbe7a1c22271b22bdd9d4
'2011-11-14T22:57:38-05:00'
describe
'1316' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSRY' 'sip-files00039.txt'
f6db4b8e2205f4b516d6605ce3aee35d
a81b0ddbe1cbdd63f2ba14ee72c54cdbcb20a5b7
'2011-11-14T22:59:25-05:00'
describe
'9643' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSRZ' 'sip-files00039thm.jpg'
7f928925663b10d9a17523b8b98b91b7
00c0c62b066cb38d448846a34f31f29360b5311e
describe
'1059684' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSSA' 'sip-files00040.jp2'
3183473442b9f738fc2c7e3e9e2a4f68
ea725a2780034e3cdf40cb227aafe0b1bd0070d9
'2011-11-14T23:00:10-05:00'
describe
'83892' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSSB' 'sip-files00040.jpg'
b1ccf73f5ec717698164c11f879d0c63
0b77fc6a1598c96f3595c05b3048884ebead7016
'2011-11-14T22:56:54-05:00'
describe
'33025' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSSC' 'sip-files00040.pro'
a067f8411c52b44de4a1dad24b0a60b0
94940f1bb09c910e1afde634fc8d5656729cf309
'2011-11-14T22:55:51-05:00'
describe
'31125' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSSD' 'sip-files00040.QC.jpg'
c55cacb76afbe9984231669cc66662be
1cc40a9caf88e17d76124fcd2831f8d7db8c804f
'2011-11-14T23:01:09-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSSE' 'sip-files00040.tif'
1e77f3ae6e93472819a222a314e828f3
06d29744ac9476c64aee37e218025bc033038f3f
'2011-11-14T22:54:56-05:00'
describe
'1348' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSSF' 'sip-files00040.txt'
71f263f42ee154957c6ae3a2d0df4e8a
58195eb54768235520df394e578c3e914f66c99a
'2011-11-14T22:55:54-05:00'
describe
'9436' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSSG' 'sip-files00040thm.jpg'
e3239e877ccf985f8806797f706cfe45
1a00b02abd340ac5c85ec562f468927e01d7dae0
describe
'1042926' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSSH' 'sip-files00041.jp2'
136b820e1178a710c5f1ab6cf9e789bc
33531148248e7ace81ac3ad2ead9a80f8ee1a8ad
describe
'82387' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSSI' 'sip-files00041.jpg'
cabe5758a67db540e24e258318449f70
6d407181a36681ec3f305435bd430c58bf7fd9e5
'2011-11-14T22:59:18-05:00'
describe
'33387' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSSJ' 'sip-files00041.pro'
ca94706a634deecd19d8ef08f1d11d40
9494d8bef4e678954996f4f7de3062f9d34f840f
'2011-11-14T22:57:56-05:00'
describe
'29973' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSSK' 'sip-files00041.QC.jpg'
b63762586f196d3bf3b920327936ce5e
97a8f23ff8857db2dbcec506d93ce52201f5b5b8
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSSL' 'sip-files00041.tif'
d831c3b6f0748f4e2d15e630ed43baba
3ca0d7ecff21e91a33190c0a2593cf821f1ba8fc
'2011-11-14T23:00:24-05:00'
describe
'1319' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSSM' 'sip-files00041.txt'
7ab71505b98a284bd11a84264573702b
3a7e3dacb5a422dfb23c59a08c78edcde5b72688
describe
'9743' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSSN' 'sip-files00041thm.jpg'
c166913eef1ef3f7b4e2419b0a089260
d34fb8745161bf3277a39bd7f85e22c3fdeaf339
'2011-11-14T23:00:06-05:00'
describe
'1059697' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSSO' 'sip-files00042.jp2'
caf3f1f29f323762518b0ef17f2a22b6
c39a9491fc32c7b0112ac4729359b5f03cc31399
describe
'86358' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSSP' 'sip-files00042.jpg'
677a41c896c3ea5f0ceffbe85937340d
271648b893b0a60f63f02f7bc07a753a751213f8
'2011-11-14T22:55:20-05:00'
describe
'34099' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSSQ' 'sip-files00042.pro'
830ae378265d238292d692555bc8a8aa
794c9be6bd21545d20f6e240b5fa6e6f4ae1914f
describe
'31866' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSSR' 'sip-files00042.QC.jpg'
3d37227cce09f9db47307e64a692b643
7632863bfbfad37f4b80db481e8346ce821a6f03
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSSS' 'sip-files00042.tif'
20a148ce2b08fec7d6cb4abaaf686efc
f26e3ebd5f5dc1ead2d9b3f86848ac48029fed57
describe
'1385' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSST' 'sip-files00042.txt'
79571a0e684cd8044bd1f6a83b4db37b
e8d23ddadff49cbb15315229e87016c3ce5bb705
'2011-11-14T22:58:08-05:00'
describe
'9982' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSSU' 'sip-files00042thm.jpg'
3450751356160c97f9a3c3644ab9113a
3bf56804c1ab0c98c14ad61bf05eb404e1785217
'2011-11-14T22:57:55-05:00'
describe
'1118045' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSSV' 'sip-files00043.jp2'
5e9ad2bf6f39fb5dacccac25ef34f0db
8242bfcfa638ab1af12c82fc388e1351bbaaef6b
describe
'87377' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSSW' 'sip-files00043.jpg'
828f83ab7aa7800b51f5897527cd7011
7288a17c6d59fa74a0c6103620bc136abcb9a5a2
'2011-11-14T22:58:38-05:00'
describe
'36340' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSSX' 'sip-files00043.pro'
7b0f069694b2ae52b559a18c806b96e7
4dd0d2091a7ae251bd11bf1120ad2a5bbb57c785
'2011-11-14T22:58:27-05:00'
describe
'31409' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSSY' 'sip-files00043.QC.jpg'
a2204b1d863be99841d5a13eba49a66c
ff0e824a4bc7bbd7a3cf9b96d5668c578611105e
'2011-11-14T22:58:24-05:00'
describe
'8950539' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSSZ' 'sip-files00043.tif'
157ba4590d2d633bcd68990fa5b9f571
8dcb1724d1c5a470a4e6cd203ee65478cf7e6a2c
describe
'1430' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSTA' 'sip-files00043.txt'
2275f42fd17af77ae6ef8a36fd5eab51
e22cf1260b29f8a96d517ae43d9e0bbf909e7490
describe
'9897' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSTB' 'sip-files00043thm.jpg'
cad83faa910750cf52306f201a9fb6de
4a889ec7bdba6a8086a70ff2d802c523853e77a5
describe
'1059605' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSTC' 'sip-files00044.jp2'
a7deb5385c6e4405214e4227631593d1
1e8dace32b09ed83725acdab045c662b989e58a5
'2011-11-14T22:58:36-05:00'
describe
'86571' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSTD' 'sip-files00044.jpg'
1ff3611fe1b620044a84c820af04028a
d393c0312f78c7fdf750a440474be3b3b843fdc2
'2011-11-14T22:55:27-05:00'
describe
'33747' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSTE' 'sip-files00044.pro'
88c6e1a2a8d60c399f756b886f36a36d
235730ec772a29ed0aa76d4dcb04442df9c56ed7
describe
'31531' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSTF' 'sip-files00044.QC.jpg'
4ff09f55ff783e78136fce13e6e3e35b
c4b8f1c4e32f1d046a705195e7973a2f2ca22e6e
'2011-11-14T23:00:29-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSTG' 'sip-files00044.tif'
1f0261d4e48c084adbd47a6bbac22643
4edbc91a2c0867f50f584404618fa0bbfb361f5f
'2011-11-14T23:01:06-05:00'
describe
'1369' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSTH' 'sip-files00044.txt'
c41f009f6adad173679206e64c467830
28c1c46c7b9b985354ddfaa72ebcb9b6862df74d
'2011-11-14T22:55:35-05:00'
describe
'9653' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSTI' 'sip-files00044thm.jpg'
c3d43cb25bda622c82003af65832250c
877ed2f67e223fd0ce5197b716c0297116acbda5
'2011-11-14T22:59:36-05:00'
describe
'1115841' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSTJ' 'sip-files00045.jp2'
3ad622bbfe8e1242de3d0911cad1ddd6
c48632b329dcbb1b614a8181669054ff0fa17010
'2011-11-14T23:01:33-05:00'
describe
'81080' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSTK' 'sip-files00045.jpg'
3a6eb04b59ef8ce530b4159d536bfd24
15871468904245d4f1ce7dd455656522b97e5497
'2011-11-14T23:01:45-05:00'
describe
'32715' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSTL' 'sip-files00045.pro'
f53e547cdb472a5faa7cc9ac08549ad1
900e80bf9f1428bcb4120d0e727add819b986fe0
'2011-11-14T22:58:29-05:00'
describe
'28455' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSTM' 'sip-files00045.QC.jpg'
2f7bc3897860684aef91bbe2fb104660
bbb0b23fd8bef1eb68da99da748059d21366da7c
describe
'8932955' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSTN' 'sip-files00045.tif'
19078eceb18cabc948f9d519affd67a6
53273030a75b7dc3c295cdafcd0c8ec46125f52b
'2011-11-14T22:56:35-05:00'
describe
'1322' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSTO' 'sip-files00045.txt'
9a94248b21f226607c76d97cf70d0823
b3ccf047f4b2e04da3a4edb969de454bebed5ed5
describe
'9453' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSTP' 'sip-files00045thm.jpg'
2a1409f667cf850202b3302d0959b60f
86fc6b73b2209aaca4eda2f3bf487362b0eb1bc0
'2011-11-14T22:55:23-05:00'
describe
'1059722' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSTQ' 'sip-files00046.jp2'
2319b254dd5abbdad8350c25c243c7cf
6826ed6a9f334a74b21ccef59e17d0947fa36a57
'2011-11-14T22:58:39-05:00'
describe
'84651' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSTR' 'sip-files00046.jpg'
098b76cca138f97a4dc25d1609fdeeca
ffa8abfd70f611acab229fb2f65559c7b8499e08
describe
'33127' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSTS' 'sip-files00046.pro'
ca91d9eff41d396a93707aaa399933d7
8e927418e6bf6bd580d822dc42a4e4e40b5d7441
describe
'30990' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSTT' 'sip-files00046.QC.jpg'
813c0cbc03ef9c4eabd04de024f4c946
500250d586c3859e04e53f876add98cc4faaddb8
'2011-11-14T22:55:55-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSTU' 'sip-files00046.tif'
161098a237b50a562338c85e65abbaa4
38566c3ea8a8faba100e01adbc04dbbce320cf7a
'2011-11-14T23:00:02-05:00'
describe
'1392' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSTV' 'sip-files00046.txt'
f463118f8d6c24fea5d31015b90fd806
e2a4f74c60e7a0fe5a825119418d5a6e9e319ad0
describe
'9517' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSTW' 'sip-files00046thm.jpg'
3bf5a700c0d5f39085e48dcae30f8bd7
a3e81cf80e0fb43f36251cf797ad65c09db6cfa7
'2011-11-14T22:59:38-05:00'
describe
'1042881' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSTX' 'sip-files00047.jp2'
6558d06ace872c8fd8ee418a5082c4ea
bd8383f0d817378948e1aa383a6ace39a9feae22
'2011-11-14T22:56:08-05:00'
describe
'84576' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSTY' 'sip-files00047.jpg'
652bc694d4417ab9b7b7146d69ebb7c0
57e27b5628155048bb3d3487fde5019887333b63
describe
'33664' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSTZ' 'sip-files00047.pro'
d76f07c3e2a5567af08f7a775c206551
adf2aa58228b88cefe9a61ce99af17e607184bd3
describe
'30967' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSUA' 'sip-files00047.QC.jpg'
2af38646bc7d4d610d25320c2fe1de65
40aedf72fadb0fca5f1ac013060a97bae36d8aa9
'2011-11-14T22:55:44-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSUB' 'sip-files00047.tif'
8f482c88cdadcff3b3b7dc8dadd47eaf
509c43c2121a878c3516a9b6d45765ad4cc0d4dd
'2011-11-14T22:56:51-05:00'
describe
'1337' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSUC' 'sip-files00047.txt'
4751ffd3fc1f43daa0ece814a5a20fc8
56ba32ec6af1a87f659392ddbc55e6bd3d4da7c3
describe
'9899' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSUD' 'sip-files00047thm.jpg'
38d8e9e83d1774829463dbe17c40de5a
bdc3f7e694b31cf99ec234e21c67007082af406a
describe
'1059694' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSUE' 'sip-files00048.jp2'
78491f68d54f8e656858c5cbd4b2029c
326b4a5206c2ef1f0205ce960e4efcaa444f745b
describe
'82184' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSUF' 'sip-files00048.jpg'
4c08a54eee31ab65292299e6d5e04622
8181df7483927635c7ddb78dcb69cfe7fdd61e97
describe
'31499' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSUG' 'sip-files00048.pro'
7869a13c81983a5e41503d4f102d3647
699209280608cc1ed303fb775c753fd03583d652
describe
'30336' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSUH' 'sip-files00048.QC.jpg'
88daa62e3841c2a80b71e5120e75ea08
f239190caf90c6c54a0274f35f788a2d0cac6ed6
'2011-11-14T23:00:54-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSUI' 'sip-files00048.tif'
c54850f21b5e348516e43e5c7fd3614f
f3c6e9cde675d15bad15942f13c13b2ea8e02050
'2011-11-14T22:55:14-05:00'
describe
'1333' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSUJ' 'sip-files00048.txt'
4d016157a5d91df07700a1148fa0ec33
8f8e5904000840271575bbf725829bf795fe02ea
'2011-11-14T23:00:22-05:00'
describe
'9434' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSUK' 'sip-files00048thm.jpg'
962e067f798c1e9a57495a26859ce623
4970d285ec70a0048b148ff800fdaf25bdf11e57
'2011-11-14T22:55:34-05:00'
describe
'1042859' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSUL' 'sip-files00049.jp2'
507d7bc5a77fd369bc7b5b10cac13356
641160bda53b634af4a60681dd29727cb5b3d7d9
'2011-11-14T22:56:16-05:00'
describe
'81566' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSUM' 'sip-files00049.jpg'
097cf0b55f0859cfeb3a63834b185e49
aaaf9eea75dd7472f0653d8502770b82b61fdf53
describe
'32304' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSUN' 'sip-files00049.pro'
628989f5e7351617bf82173f8def5f2b
dd3605c7346beeded2591ffcfa4f50a1801b9788
describe
'30361' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSUO' 'sip-files00049.QC.jpg'
aa7945c378599839fbcc6747c2f4bb2b
5b4f6e40a895dca01ed0c762ed1521faf2ed7d7e
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSUP' 'sip-files00049.tif'
43ffc022ddee730a638fea11fef7c24a
bed392d0b7dba74600c218386b5c5060115646bf
'2011-11-14T22:58:47-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSUQ' 'sip-files00049.txt'
b117390cf8538bcaca01fb45c2c81157
06af7c04ee31b88fad80a3d07c9b2555059609a1
describe
'9809' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSUR' 'sip-files00049thm.jpg'
52368e0958112696f3073a06a6756bd0
60f7883fbf18e07ff0c23391b0b6107c47c14d67
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSUS' 'sip-files00050.jp2'
578b2b109e2eea2a93d7b74afd284cbc
bab4356ec240d9f8850434764bf4132872934afe
describe
'87594' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSUT' 'sip-files00050.jpg'
83c3adab8630bbc34bc46db8b85e4487
caf01140756b06d97f9afabd29b2baa932f2fad1
describe
'34400' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSUU' 'sip-files00050.pro'
3af006bd08b2cb865fc33b170a11b5d5
e450578d2cca79f2dbf3773405e713d15e44f053
describe
'32038' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSUV' 'sip-files00050.QC.jpg'
321c6916ecfc651f761d54e2509f6753
5204b114e2d92ba053a5c2a665d2cf7b5557f051
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSUW' 'sip-files00050.tif'
88662ad9ea2808cff8d36799de969e94
9daf724a7633e6ddb21a8883f397c21ba7889244
describe
'1405' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSUX' 'sip-files00050.txt'
8290c67bc3db9b43ea28d1b459aa90b6
01714b479607f1a341e29da63ca2622ce017a9e5
describe
'9782' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSUY' 'sip-files00050thm.jpg'
13ca79562ada95c73b77e73f965913e9
7d717adbca751d6db5c981143441011e6458fb91
describe
'1042804' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSUZ' 'sip-files00051.jp2'
7dcea3a1715625a9e5334914c705fe00
addeeef0dcbb3dcbfb9bd6397931278c6bb18a64
describe
'84382' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSVA' 'sip-files00051.jpg'
7a36f9ae5483c6facdeac9a2a74dff4e
5cd0c478480a174c15df1b147eb9d97afc8f4ba8
'2011-11-14T22:56:40-05:00'
describe
'33547' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSVB' 'sip-files00051.pro'
9032251063ff64ca2313c3d24daf167a
fe3ad5e654c452a984cc123ce37b044d664f249e
'2011-11-14T22:56:55-05:00'
describe
'30637' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSVC' 'sip-files00051.QC.jpg'
181d0a91ab9def98b1141c071534219d
e7672e3710a510afedfd37cee1014a81e53b81f5
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSVD' 'sip-files00051.tif'
be87b1a115c093a3512bda146f43d0d0
3e17897c1cccc65e76c1c09025e364de230cbd74
'2011-11-14T22:59:07-05:00'
describe
'1339' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSVE' 'sip-files00051.txt'
d98f0ee8cdd0b7bbb293f181fa635e93
90c2a847fd34d822ef5fa60c6273134a35982479
describe
'10003' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSVF' 'sip-files00051thm.jpg'
45eb0ce6dee03be4ffd2d3d0344e0e3b
bbcdeb5e67f20c3ce64ba5752894b365ce981ca9
describe
'1059746' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSVG' 'sip-files00052.jp2'
95e220920752f4151c428279ef51c6b6
9d16976997816c458bdfa09ced7bdea841aecb93
'2011-11-14T22:55:08-05:00'
describe
'77767' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSVH' 'sip-files00052.jpg'
efdd1a1a761d1406763c515722804331
8dc0a2caed34fd811c35b468b00d78f0ece83766
describe
'29266' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSVI' 'sip-files00052.pro'
086c723e299f42dda629ae515ac256d6
e6c5c8fcfbf4ecfc7d81fe3575183d1c36211089
describe
'28428' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSVJ' 'sip-files00052.QC.jpg'
e55fa34c1981cb3de3c7200ac58f3444
6e8c77155cf4ed600a39ca26561ccb3f70a10873
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSVK' 'sip-files00052.tif'
b03c63bf652664426635e3b2c0034ce6
23cbd80cc66c8dc872b918aec6126438f1ff6c3b
'2011-11-14T22:59:43-05:00'
describe
'1209' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSVL' 'sip-files00052.txt'
3a95394a8af64c8f90452517f2a3b4a7
d778ce579bac56461a6ced0190ee70e7a54cc4c1
describe
'8978' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSVM' 'sip-files00052thm.jpg'
86a1493bc24332003f94780efd08a4b3
098aa5af51775cd067ec2a3300c6632e6f44d189
'2011-11-14T22:58:12-05:00'
describe
'1060834' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSVN' 'sip-files00053.jp2'
c56c366753d8e5f7008718059ddcd8b9
2110320361b15e9e1209b4d5305b932762faecd8
describe
'77677' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSVO' 'sip-files00053.jpg'
2d3370104cb9043407514f8401949a9d
0f2bd185d8ce5e344ec80c54cd5510c72415048a
describe
'30049' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSVP' 'sip-files00053.pro'
078d2c8cae07a268a5c9c48d540f5b21
1011a0fe5d5b0700e05d528646b8cd24de7d2fc4
'2011-11-14T23:01:07-05:00'
describe
'28242' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSVQ' 'sip-files00053.QC.jpg'
30bb214d295a1765207910e93c2cbf9c
0261452a1da871275973a0c25fd67a4a30b37afc
describe
'8496973' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSVR' 'sip-files00053.tif'
857d25650d782839346f4877e505b5f0
642c5bfa09d7edebb15bc3d7d86dae93fa8de111
describe
'1235' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSVS' 'sip-files00053.txt'
697a0fc563f0ed4cd8018d3581990f2e
3a9762a1099dce8ec6b1f9587af5028301923c3e
describe
'9138' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSVT' 'sip-files00053thm.jpg'
662f006b850715d876363198ea725b82
4a7f8912d9d4129f58c8802045ab555c57dfe971
describe
'1059689' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSVU' 'sip-files00054.jp2'
e9fbcfdc023c1e6d0084b6621cb6088b
b4675074893ffded8db07227205bf49273fd874a
describe
'82802' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSVV' 'sip-files00054.jpg'
783ef59b5c3ba5004f399c9033774ba7
15533fe3c1c18fee0faca06529683e9c4bf7691f
describe
'32215' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSVW' 'sip-files00054.pro'
124b464b428e63071bdcf410ccc0c2ab
935d94fbcee7d10383fd4afbf341cf8ca4bf7791
describe
'30022' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSVX' 'sip-files00054.QC.jpg'
5e2923f9f015783113e1bfafa8f15dc9
c9a450c526b62718790a24588245abff9194be25
'2011-11-14T23:00:27-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSVY' 'sip-files00054.tif'
da88b375fa18a5a14f7eefe865bd0d69
508a0deeb95c2a6568412ab6328262c063cd44d3
describe
'1325' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSVZ' 'sip-files00054.txt'
0509ed607f5ede2493cd2bfcc188c1a2
6c79a3902726b888dd6fa1642b3b5096f72b376f
describe
'9552' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSWA' 'sip-files00054thm.jpg'
4e870ba4ed2322ccb7e9b02b9dd417e4
ceb303122b4de5f4fbacf427ea7be6cb3e95b1f6
'2011-11-14T22:55:59-05:00'
describe
'1060805' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSWB' 'sip-files00055.jp2'
924ddd20d6523c6b8bcc99e2226b0886
f62346477e1ef4101187c122df3aa37e1e627ad9
describe
'79803' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSWC' 'sip-files00055.jpg'
8cf4d36dc2e4f0dd94b77482e7470c83
50dfe235f45dde4355452242942e7af0d982a12f
'2011-11-14T22:57:53-05:00'
describe
'31802' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSWD' 'sip-files00055.pro'
6a6d7de790343960652f8fe31809bd6a
ea70f28ab5982f7fc3f081d250b0b9119f742a8a
'2011-11-14T23:01:20-05:00'
describe
'29382' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSWE' 'sip-files00055.QC.jpg'
d9a0eae9467ece46b6d5a5791710d3b1
64bae9dfbeab96f4a4b8b7cbe4b31c52cc982b39
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSWF' 'sip-files00055.tif'
dcd8a7536184dc9394a675cb34d0c145
c4547626e1c1b536219c04c1832f4715c299a852
'2011-11-14T23:01:26-05:00'
describe
'1301' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSWG' 'sip-files00055.txt'
5f29d83f09bd19639a58c282b3942f8b
d7696419b602fb618d616d3f81262df2987d81ef
describe
'9624' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSWH' 'sip-files00055thm.jpg'
57d895da8cb2cd7224fd57e97eea0017
a5d2a4bcf20aee5d0620cacf18781cde82f6c494
describe
'1059742' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSWI' 'sip-files00056.jp2'
14c5251863570e84505b6df3e6257f93
ebaee42440e70a5d96b6cdbd700f316df91e4cc6
'2011-11-14T23:01:17-05:00'
describe
'88098' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSWJ' 'sip-files00056.jpg'
667b12ff9f8a3ab30cc005987b138043
e61c5a6032e2dbf443d59011449b4e5ce39b9cc5
'2011-11-14T22:59:34-05:00'
describe
'35054' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSWK' 'sip-files00056.pro'
59b61b1010762bb1aa4edd84fc26cac6
f4c459a70663486d718747efb2aa6d041fcba9b2
describe
'32604' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSWL' 'sip-files00056.QC.jpg'
c8e2aaf70033f1ddab98977df1b0d0c3
024ba1deac46f527589228ff9b1540d80e7faaa6
'2011-11-14T23:00:56-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSWM' 'sip-files00056.tif'
109ab6542f83c2a4f876217692fe1c5a
940cf917bc971915de22b42e78fb8b613a864e88
describe
'1453' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSWN' 'sip-files00056.txt'
00b2e0c676ee678b62398614a3403727
46a331eb414f12b561b654c20f418ebd66bc7e71
describe
'10040' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSWO' 'sip-files00056thm.jpg'
08deee564422cfb597221f5df3f763fd
d0b298a24e94f18db78fd009ddf4e7e0da6d4557
'2011-11-14T22:56:03-05:00'
describe
'813742' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSWP' 'sip-files00057.jp2'
1aa420bcd46cc6c032915e3ba228a644
d55d03ea438b0325ebaf849cdf2c4588d821a1b4
describe
'33943' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSWQ' 'sip-files00057.jpg'
b28088315b4ed9c6f7f80e8f44bd3673
0286fb5266130a3790882b450238bf1ebd124bf0
describe
'8609' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSWR' 'sip-files00057.pro'
3ff55b4955d91f69e74288ed60bf1913
71c9addc93ef4a12e3aeef8b1e1b8d68ec23ea51
describe
'11659' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSWS' 'sip-files00057.QC.jpg'
72cce410a3ca2b92d21ff78e7ab08e1a
7e21e72fd29d6083c7a30ae803c2c907071edfb9
'2011-11-14T23:00:47-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSWT' 'sip-files00057.tif'
0e21578626a6f50c33ad3f44d1a4f086
3d75901edc17698e285a28c68a850a0ccf4eab59
'2011-11-14T22:57:50-05:00'
describe
'347' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSWU' 'sip-files00057.txt'
d8dafa69cf1194e1656ae2f96ce03f7a
08ea8f1be2a1a46834926fadd28e3ea42fb243fe
describe
'3935' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSWV' 'sip-files00057thm.jpg'
cc94f1428bdb59b93a09cc3ca47edc2e
1304890a6ae07ba39cfd91114b86470b71eca4ae
'2011-11-14T22:59:53-05:00'
describe
'1021810' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSWW' 'sip-files00058.jp2'
9d9f71ddec7b98e16b4c21473d72104f
fa0b3ce2e5fa4cf5337d800c419d636c638faf55
describe
'61517' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSWX' 'sip-files00058.jpg'
798e08b2ff07c0b970e79515e43ba48a
4622461a091bc3e3fd7b09f2efef32b160bf510e
'2011-11-14T22:57:47-05:00'
describe
'21075' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSWY' 'sip-files00058.pro'
5fdb7299290e390c381a0c252d720a28
117f305bd8d4a7dcd987e5f5e59e08bc9a3f9f45
describe
'21953' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSWZ' 'sip-files00058.QC.jpg'
d3298118e54ee0664d80659da59c45b3
55d5048252296793075a8a21876b9e21133f203c
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSXA' 'sip-files00058.tif'
0f6f6f91535245a91d2e6dc991bc3a22
bff32dfe02bd6d88223c555ec1d0fc0bdfcd6292
describe
'923' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSXB' 'sip-files00058.txt'
b91ab67a0878007fd439bc2ba1eeb7a9
4441cc1a200d5cda4cbfaa80645dbb85beaadac8
describe
'7053' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSXC' 'sip-files00058thm.jpg'
e871423a31b243a5d2de942542ccb31b
2352201fc7a31efcb6dd8f364dc723876b64fe56
describe
'1060878' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSXD' 'sip-files00059.jp2'
a00461415bb1692fcec83d166d45d408
58e3d940e397409367099aa9c65d1775fc3852a7
'2011-11-14T23:01:25-05:00'
describe
'1128280' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSXE' 'sip-filesBack.jp2'
0296006760af66a0d696f6fd07ea7e8b
ebef8bdb9d977b08f295547b3b12305abcd48df3
'2011-11-14T22:57:49-05:00'
describe
'85884' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSXF' 'sip-files00059.jpg'
ca65e0f70125ffcd22ce05f5e677f5ff
fbabf8fb55bae98bda0ac9265401811e9cb86e57
'2011-11-14T22:56:34-05:00'
describe
'33869' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSXG' 'sip-files00059.pro'
3b462a9465d707cb4d1e617af67ba0af
e1808493c2b24245aaa0aabdf1a99551b2050bae
'2011-11-14T22:59:37-05:00'
describe
'31676' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSXH' 'sip-files00059.QC.jpg'
9183351bdfceaba7b880cb3c44e0c442
34c3b9ad8e946720176a7824ce307b3f4cfa6360
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSXI' 'sip-files00059.tif'
144e3548bac8288d788c024a73a952f6
ca55a907e65076cd2d3c491e07809ccfd1945805
describe
'1373' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSXJ' 'sip-files00059.txt'
0cc2301af3af4b07958871d289a0532a
2bf0f5dba4df63ba08f956635f9b539088989e46
describe
'9876' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSXK' 'sip-files00059thm.jpg'
a8a42b46acf1b908d60f507228969f8e
81c3ca990e74e9c60e545389d7f592900c67cdb8
describe
'1059712' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSXL' 'sip-files00060.jp2'
3a339ced8023b26a5f932d1c6199509f
a2dd58b5e3fa4b9fd6b60f719997b3edb3b074c4
describe
'85895' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSXM' 'sip-files00060.jpg'
fdc09b671a13a4b976d274c6fb6f8866
cbdbae86ceecefb3d995a9994a77862b05bc0e1e
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSXN' 'sip-files00060.pro'
0277efaa3c43be2b709c5cbfc303d32e
e111a0f14c994001cf7adf839ba3665538f1c3e8
describe
'31482' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSXO' 'sip-files00060.QC.jpg'
d9923dd618616bc611962dae75c444e7
98e418183232f7344ed72453d2ed55dd051e998c
'2011-11-14T22:58:58-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSXP' 'sip-files00060.tif'
760227df66db10b4ba25d2f947030245
b22e584622eca11f9e91480fd163c5c310fee7b4
describe
'1399' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSXQ' 'sip-files00060.txt'
c1f65e11fe02165baf48588414c3b0b9
d1b70f044750c52569ddf6e06525c17c846bc59d
describe
'9940' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSXR' 'sip-files00060thm.jpg'
b2751e35dc33b139211cd91287431ca6
4be63aae9828f3bbef7f58def45b057d756828ce
describe
'1060876' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSXS' 'sip-files00061.jp2'
b4fb9fe0e98a42bd05de36e54b9b12fb
b888253cc7f60f7258eb38fac22c4962faec3afd
'2011-11-14T22:54:54-05:00'
describe
'85014' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSXT' 'sip-files00061.jpg'
6772d4f0fa4212e727f5f1307f7f8111
b2dbd43b56c2c14336fdb06cbf4c9fe85ed71915
'2011-11-14T22:57:08-05:00'
describe
'33621' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSXU' 'sip-files00061.pro'
e28dfe1b8ad934e7fd9ef57fad8a7013
d7ca03c7901c074d7dc0be42dbbc18f5dd95a9ba
'2011-11-14T22:59:54-05:00'
describe
'31175' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSXV' 'sip-files00061.QC.jpg'
f5e7341d1319d6e169ba7cfc6e3c0576
4c2f2195184e556565cc540f91656b4c88248fcf
'2011-11-14T22:58:54-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSXW' 'sip-files00061.tif'
991eb1e9baed1fae74e39922e4140d0e
2f99a4dc6a5da8f3074149a1ebb23bd83120f4c8
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSXX' 'sip-files00061.txt'
11538640ad0b8c0b3b2ad3a41e13f8b8
d2bbba1ff0a7914cff09f9eba5bf1d25a9f645bc
'2011-11-14T22:59:42-05:00'
describe
'9810' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSXY' 'sip-files00061thm.jpg'
b880a128e9d47a967f3cd51795bf3a86
1e9c7018b2bf04a94b1627819368a5ab7d45dac7
'2011-11-14T22:59:47-05:00'
describe
'1059740' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSXZ' 'sip-files00062.jp2'
eb1f1182aa69539e824bba0107e158f5
a1f5e95f577bfd13e5c68155d96cb60af7defac3
'2011-11-14T22:55:33-05:00'
describe
'85506' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSYA' 'sip-files00062.jpg'
6e42f4f532e0f78cf0153cece944ca32
5841daef49e36183bc2b52ca0c4acc4837059634
describe
'33648' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSYB' 'sip-files00062.pro'
c96ab2ba0be4265f852221fee5b9e56c
ccbba8b6eb5d3f970dd9f98b0db08f040855f9ea
describe
'31451' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSYC' 'sip-files00062.QC.jpg'
22f63fe3e6eb9731302242f0085b3e5e
f85bef66dab62596411904916592d96baff948a6
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSYD' 'sip-files00062.tif'
5b2f893b8b69f6ac925da8ccbe565641
1f9d16111d8048d81456d6edc7d0900a19f65f2f
'2011-11-14T23:00:20-05:00'
describe
'1377' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSYE' 'sip-files00062.txt'
a07ec42fa2cecb7658b1a8b9557c1f36
26cf309ede123a4206fa28f2c192fd308512012a
'2011-11-14T22:54:53-05:00'
describe
'9633' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSYF' 'sip-files00062thm.jpg'
581e750cf95dda0b15173e43a87fa1f9
c8a9f1cf91216bf673dbc77f37456f01df49d448
describe
'1060885' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSYG' 'sip-files00063.jp2'
db7b6c23b3e0bff0311bbd880eca7ddf
849ca7751e49505baf4e54ad7d07c8ca2e63f79f
'2011-11-14T22:59:44-05:00'
describe
'88515' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSYH' 'sip-files00063.jpg'
eb487e182e5132d4ac075de171b2e14f
82a978dd9f832b9d2bfed990cea1f66d78c16cc9
'2011-11-14T23:01:04-05:00'
describe
'35253' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSYI' 'sip-files00063.pro'
454f6935201ac378a0e3160a556add11
67b5912a019d3dee08a6749f5355c4490024aaad
'2011-11-14T22:59:31-05:00'
describe
'32388' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSYJ' 'sip-files00063.QC.jpg'
df25ce81ddf73bc2abc227d3f6743ceb
e4e710433f9812e0d8551dfc9af8f25622b609b1
'2011-11-14T22:57:03-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSYK' 'sip-files00063.tif'
9f5c2152d7d244345104f3e2bf15ee7f
d0b76f1502ef18ea5d8d910d80f17d6be2032f3a
'2011-11-14T22:59:57-05:00'
describe
'1415' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSYL' 'sip-files00063.txt'
7cbd2c1d26771771dac5248c3fc0a0af
88d079a8481ca11e1d8b74007e93f8010627cc5f
describe
'10270' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSYM' 'sip-files00063thm.jpg'
448878374556bed83a32aec53144bc7f
60e0679d4d952bff881643f3c7eea5c854369bd7
describe
'1059700' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSYN' 'sip-files00064.jp2'
c080259bca69385e568a0e3895c66b8c
459acb4dc357b2be9f7d0036c79b3524ccd742a0
describe
'82525' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSYO' 'sip-files00064.jpg'
fa9cad2f0b80ec8291a54b588f612858
8f6ad31579f7562d5c7354dac34c297e4f488454
describe
'31456' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSYP' 'sip-files00064.pro'
b7877b8ee3c32cbae81e28a1e4b9abc3
5d2a1fef96d8254263df34c8c0156aca94742982
describe
'30659' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSYQ' 'sip-files00064.QC.jpg'
b9ed470694fcbe9cf3dcef9eb17bb792
921156a766cd03e9c3bd0e43168528464fa0cc60
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSYR' 'sip-files00064.tif'
05d30c0499a1c7fe6bfd6d047a1cd24a
f0d3ef0c4c5c8b37bcd4478c0787c261f9a9e217
describe
'1280' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSYS' 'sip-files00064.txt'
bb83cdc523d760dc4bcb167398fb23d0
5b90781f0a33bafbc919ef4a8df75f788c1ed776
describe
'9248' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSYT' 'sip-files00064thm.jpg'
5a6a8e39a8ad61ce200489bb04d92818
949a43e55e067f2f90eb7b3e7476b4960e5e577d
describe
'1060814' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSYU' 'sip-files00065.jp2'
fb841b0330876adab312554c53f4b5ae
d14d4ddc4ad3c23800eb8668abf235ac29b9b79c
describe
'83398' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSYV' 'sip-files00065.jpg'
1a1a5376083a1857b6496b7bc913a48c
74d8a827a8dfdb5a6bbfa5b50a485019524113bb
'2011-11-14T23:00:09-05:00'
describe
'32862' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSYW' 'sip-files00065.pro'
bfd632f93bb977a9761a264db61d095d
87a09ebc5edbe605f909cab0d39445d563fb80d6
describe
'30513' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSYX' 'sip-files00065.QC.jpg'
fca09bae8de36a7a1206e5aed64982d4
3b9aaf10b3738897bf8a22b40917e934d9196308
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSYY' 'sip-files00065.tif'
4c9fd722f5a1774abd5ae3d199fe3b78
ce64686b5ffd460d8348c25f00b6a66b7cc6ed7d
'2011-11-14T22:55:28-05:00'
describe
'1330' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSYZ' 'sip-files00065.txt'
16e87b33aeae2c1c645d06a0b186f377
6d24eb559c8ac1db466ecd720972164b389aea6e
describe
'9749' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSZA' 'sip-files00065thm.jpg'
73e854345813e95f9dbab5dcbc65cd3f
df917ac2368285b98ac05cb550431febfd80b004
describe
'1059724' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSZB' 'sip-files00066.jp2'
1ea88d3bc131606cade3e8c371b4ddc9
542efcf5dddb4d4f55cfa22409beb0c429a6ad75
describe
'88805' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSZC' 'sip-files00066.jpg'
3e2650880c5468d86d058bb6b2d600d4
2ff5a90014759c01e48809c2053dedc7bb1fe80e
describe
'35137' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSZD' 'sip-files00066.pro'
f32e80e63ba79772ea4c6aaf1c069677
2860ee04ffa506afeece3932b381758005606fc4
describe
'32227' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSZE' 'sip-files00066.QC.jpg'
1ac0ced0a7fe0ecc0e528b151c54a0b0
b7387dee151676db95114ec810f098ef665ebccd
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSZF' 'sip-files00066.tif'
5eb85e90a99aa5fcefc47113025616d5
2761aed71c6a86ff8b27ce6aa19f3189e43b9dc5
'2011-11-14T22:58:42-05:00'
describe
'1436' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSZG' 'sip-files00066.txt'
0a0b44897d52803f6047a13d1b0a8896
48213737c130071a8330711bf1931419ad6a1e80
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSZH' 'sip-files00066thm.jpg'
668a7fe3829a275a2fb4e11f7f7689f6
e014b6feb7dcc0d06744071225a312c7efda5ee4
'2011-11-14T22:55:40-05:00'
describe
'1074824' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSZI' 'sip-files00067.jp2'
02acdcdc781bc97fcdbe3a41495e2d0b
1a0787075ef5d1cd5cfbfbb847be47413fa930fc
describe
'89133' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSZJ' 'sip-files00067.jpg'
01db7e7dea583396199d2e587c9e36c2
f12bfe48472a0b45440b3f470fec6134c6776f0f
describe
'34589' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSZK' 'sip-files00067.pro'
3c08b8fc391d8c1247228d660d23af78
7fb91a7e011d6b9ab7e5aa26da0af7755543f707
describe
'32375' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSZL' 'sip-files00067.QC.jpg'
c103fc8eee304707142e5888c2f3a07b
d941f8a2fa8e3f6b8d100854edd83c816fb38418
describe
'8608293' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSZM' 'sip-files00067.tif'
e92b25dcf71e8278995a15d2ae751ce6
7381e8994a7ba0adaf0687ffc4a7cfce8e57aada
'2011-11-14T22:58:44-05:00'
describe
'1387' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSZN' 'sip-files00067.txt'
ac3cf2a84ba6d0739fc816c0c2f6b397
6c7f24a21bc26f25ff4df3845cec6814ca9b9022
describe
'9701' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSZO' 'sip-files00067thm.jpg'
e3337da67a6d8f52d3db0813dce90127
28df9b9bc2fb30ec46298cc3b91c89ae4f025b2e
describe
'1059639' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSZP' 'sip-files00068.jp2'
194e2e702738e4ba50bd0e0644063392
ceac722eb15bf3ca36521a9c0ac1b296350ca7f9
describe
'82390' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSZQ' 'sip-files00068.jpg'
069548a3468f498badc30492aed91c2a
0cf4fd1b40ba605f977ae850ebe924a46d692b52
describe
'31562' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSZR' 'sip-files00068.pro'
836689d51bc563847f970547913844dd
1e8e7f7ccfe01bfba9a57a1d4e36cf305b696664
describe
'29799' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSZS' 'sip-files00068.QC.jpg'
fc8b7372a14ed08f09f5d710b20667d8
c724700601ecdd5db78f3f0d5b0c28426627f727
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSZT' 'sip-files00068.tif'
5a1967d71feca20d4fc5594da839e888
c97f8641c69271484c9746adbbe80ddc6ff15a6a
'2011-11-14T23:00:42-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSZU' 'sip-files00068.txt'
151bc7a20ae6063ad222570ceee7e020
a72905faacdccead8399b8d7afa02fd80e913fba
describe
'9279' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSZV' 'sip-files00068thm.jpg'
9c6457a87823ba0063c9eb0991d787b4
fdfa352741d862ea3fc31513853772107a25fe4a
describe
'1074649' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSZW' 'sip-files00069.jp2'
99fde6015a0261852482dc56ca53c270
a2ab700390e30903b0afdd42d4d2bac390998d5b
describe
'83360' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSZX' 'sip-files00069.jpg'
7a2397292f4f0f9703e03f9e0c3945c0
7e2786f88d4d813594582cf423250735fab7a708
describe
'31816' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSZY' 'sip-files00069.pro'
27c43881aea010a60aa66b6cf57c6b26
3465fc45cf35ee6656ef815dc1c5de4cdc400dae
'2011-11-14T22:58:13-05:00'
describe
'30517' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABSZZ' 'sip-files00069.QC.jpg'
09f4f36c7cd88e4fdabdee29f9d8cd79
5e990a950c6d5555939e28bf826934e089950d79
'2011-11-14T23:00:11-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTAA' 'sip-files00069.tif'
7f3696d42a8536aca30e8abbd18dc553
74552b823a952bbf8953d22fd1e6735ac946e142
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTAB' 'sip-files00069.txt'
9a1c4337c43a55c88716ec3c0fc2677b
dd0c5870d02501743ebdb43b9462ce2fd2021e99
describe
'9036' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTAC' 'sip-files00069thm.jpg'
549f252b7facfafa5bc334d665c3640c
6d9cdfd6a3204df91068e61540f48cddb9cb5a95
describe
'1059678' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTAD' 'sip-files00070.jp2'
ffb36588a4291cb1ad9dab7d1faf9a82
9b30b4e417d2900ebd8b62161db8f2c149e9c047
'2011-11-14T22:58:35-05:00'
describe
'82294' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTAE' 'sip-files00070.jpg'
9cde701ba8cdbd74ae50286db7de0a13
27c671daf924b35d8fbc09109abbbadf35e402d0
'2011-11-14T22:57:11-05:00'
describe
'31490' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTAF' 'sip-files00070.pro'
413cbdac3d72d53f27b4dd37b547a6c1
df35f51894441faa58269a12d1e3ddbc85bb74bc
describe
'29760' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTAG' 'sip-files00070.QC.jpg'
3bfd7899a34e2aa1dc524ccca6d0b807
f513cf903edf1750ae6864a67830c35075c92fe4
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTAH' 'sip-files00070.tif'
81837beb9462a357c94998766578fcc1
c2d5d4cfa279c11539a8049a8954d24297f217be
'2011-11-14T22:58:16-05:00'
describe
'1326' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTAI' 'sip-files00070.txt'
0a03ec37d4d4eba774260ef92e4d05d5
af779ae51b3b9021280164c7ac72f5dd0665929c
describe
'9216' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTAJ' 'sip-files00070thm.jpg'
0fd82918ee40761bd31e67bc4111e2d6
caab5220bfe0a4bdd200b92643730ff3cdc1534c
'2011-11-14T22:59:09-05:00'
describe
'1074791' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTAK' 'sip-files00071.jp2'
679714adfb196806a0b7decce0daa11d
d2a17abe4365f1f954101d435b870a78a8404800
describe
'89280' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTAL' 'sip-files00071.jpg'
c62f38c47d459b38649be40ceb389832
9b5037d45a867ebe0e1149daaedcf4a6c49d9582
describe
'34650' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTAM' 'sip-files00071.pro'
d914c7c702bef804c9efdc852c5afc6c
117e10dc91ddf6e4891c7e017c3145bacceedbcb
'2011-11-14T22:55:06-05:00'
describe
'32431' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTAN' 'sip-files00071.QC.jpg'
511ddc421a24a4ea8e489adbdf30487b
51cd960754f5e8b39a1cf727a2c9c511a4b42653
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTAO' 'sip-files00071.tif'
dbdc3ef9a71f0f2c80ac1c7813145e60
7d7bff8ef7a6c61a93fea73cc605d65b891ef8ec
'2011-11-14T22:55:41-05:00'
describe
'1391' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTAP' 'sip-files00071.txt'
b4ab9300cfbd830d55ecc5c8cd9240e5
c0c169f2b0d226a54323d3b634fcd71bb85b5ac0
describe
'9572' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTAQ' 'sip-files00071thm.jpg'
ece19b1c7e70c6ccb407330c4bd42d4f
14d338bc0b1f74ff470bdb477a20895397182e63
'2011-11-14T23:01:12-05:00'
describe
'1059702' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTAR' 'sip-files00072.jp2'
c3c7769a8f5e7ee87318a374aa61478e
a29808fb051ef8bcaf029e58f07549154bcd9242
describe
'83578' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTAS' 'sip-files00072.jpg'
e335149ec6302d4903c233b82c0b62f8
2e63dee87f020b8af03cd2af8458b1bfe301c759
describe
'32454' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTAT' 'sip-files00072.pro'
3992686c8d08872a1d5cb554759bd05e
308666530fdaff28f8239eff635a5e115cf6668d
describe
'30372' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTAU' 'sip-files00072.QC.jpg'
0a194f4290c6336c4573f070f6d6a186
63cb930ac2ab2389c5555c818b61f86f3d4beef2
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTAV' 'sip-files00072.tif'
060e1fb1f1635c73c59772b3ad6234f8
d48d0994e794e7c8c4bcef954a22659db8161380
'2011-11-14T22:58:56-05:00'
describe
'1358' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTAW' 'sip-files00072.txt'
1119dfd059f7b1f12f63fae676713fba
efe33bafcb714642e1782220baa36bdb7f4b5bb0
describe
'9457' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTAX' 'sip-files00072thm.jpg'
fcf686e7bf17514179fa97ef780713b3
d19de6ae5b4109c9701bd6d6337d88ac52594744
describe
'1074808' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTAY' 'sip-files00073.jp2'
5bf8fe88f47f7fb3b272410b92dd85bf
e580bb9cc25180cf10e52e648174dfef810a8498
describe
'88841' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTAZ' 'sip-files00073.jpg'
fd832f98af37e3245e6f5c07f0bdc3a2
a02e80ce69a64e6f38af83dfe8fecafc1818c5b1
describe
'34584' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTBA' 'sip-files00073.pro'
2dfb5abf44e87d3a340bc4c86229407b
3a6575079e3272ca2698ec49e702e980cbff0bb4
describe
'32421' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTBB' 'sip-files00073.QC.jpg'
f76b88cf1e570969c1545794dab3c040
d328a1e8d872f531fa390f82cef86e8ff229a051
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTBC' 'sip-files00073.tif'
9c9219a2cb772f4f57b78effd8404452
ffe5144284343c166a9374ed6a847ec700ba7e91
describe
'1374' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTBD' 'sip-files00073.txt'
d7fce9058389adfb7daf942ef8c03f81
7440ee9ff2e7feb891a74c46ed0b9ba45ba83e46
describe
'9278' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTBE' 'sip-files00073thm.jpg'
a101e67e1dfbdec0aca9de7ddd265b0f
f248c792446ffa9022105f9cb20a703029b65cf2
describe
'1059745' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTBF' 'sip-files00074.jp2'
872175e121dfe259629196b175d02be8
5785b71ea5502881f768b97f20bbb0bc82592d60
'2011-11-14T23:01:43-05:00'
describe
'87483' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTBG' 'sip-files00074.jpg'
964477bdba4ec7f45543da4385818acd
bc87e9d69aa9113f15e186374539872b2e3afd97
describe
'34506' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTBH' 'sip-files00074.pro'
45708c44aba283d821e1fb75c7c07efc
17316b05dbf010c9cbf2691ce94480eda052a3de
'2011-11-14T22:59:55-05:00'
describe
'31748' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTBI' 'sip-files00074.QC.jpg'
e31d62108af70766fef42214f5c1933c
b24e04ee4ab5d6b9309aafc394fc4087c25d02e0
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTBJ' 'sip-files00074.tif'
cd628c2e7f856b65c121f6ea08673c34
1fb7e72402bc84d0eb59db1cce9c7e7adc4acd04
'2011-11-14T22:59:27-05:00'
describe
'1383' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTBK' 'sip-files00074.txt'
444a0c264ac2719c8e8bcba892fc9f1e
1a09bf72d8b2fe96638ec10980ac0681c16046f5
describe
'9930' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTBL' 'sip-files00074thm.jpg'
3e39c1a2cc54b66bc0f50bbf11ea6402
54df54dd91ffab49e4e99dbb46f8cf62ca3b0962
describe
'1074813' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTBM' 'sip-files00075.jp2'
a4bab1674918d28e7b53161e0e6dea34
d8fda00b7b62fe7f0130361a1d3e2e2aae5d2492
describe
'83781' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTBN' 'sip-files00075.jpg'
d9c65b6bbca1d5c953d5893ac2524867
46f72a53680b1fa9031cd94b0cfa11ba25845a28
'2011-11-14T22:57:36-05:00'
describe
'32329' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTBO' 'sip-files00075.pro'
cb078825ce86e46ee64fc0c12fce36bf
59b98edb90eeb2cb08d3fb1303880db4e83cc927
describe
'30497' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTBP' 'sip-files00075.QC.jpg'
f3e954adf214b178b34744d06a30c313
e6b07946db67ce77344ae5b73e57f508b2513b52
'2011-11-14T23:00:17-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTBQ' 'sip-files00075.tif'
4f4e4ed5559f7d17cbafe1db4640efb6
465c9ad4c41f4ec9d1ca6748df547b55b3a685a3
describe
'1307' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTBR' 'sip-files00075.txt'
a09e4140dd7a21b56b6e3dd16ea913d8
a010a7afe9b7dfb0e866a15078657ed791142071
describe
'9051' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTBS' 'sip-files00075thm.jpg'
d63727ad46a77d21c7073d1b395105b4
6cb879e73c1cb5d08e87e82f304a6a9e82e9acb2
describe
'1059616' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTBT' 'sip-files00076.jp2'
56a71dcd085a87dbbf0354fd7fb1d3bf
e9786770789e09e37c792b0f6cefefe15c42be39
'2011-11-14T22:55:25-05:00'
describe
'84280' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTBU' 'sip-files00076.jpg'
0e57ac1344ef76e852ec483b92321546
eb4357c7af6d7cab8bf33631a383cb4ce83dfce5
'2011-11-14T22:58:11-05:00'
describe
'32614' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTBV' 'sip-files00076.pro'
843027ccee056396f3a4d1b8c3569263
7ae811f814c39845c1a494062643ee3fb8af68ea
describe
'30986' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTBW' 'sip-files00076.QC.jpg'
3001368358ad596546c4391156bc44c9
0e1b7f4254b5e7198ac9cc4736a74bcec4a20726
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTBX' 'sip-files00076.tif'
962d393091e156c7f88dab04f79ebcb3
a949a8d00613ede1af25c16101b85ec2a3acc7e9
'2011-11-14T23:01:27-05:00'
describe
'1324' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTBY' 'sip-files00076.txt'
dcdf85b92dd107c0d2dee9a479935761
45ebb489b9dca950c6d96a7face0d6923f228f3e
'2011-11-14T22:55:30-05:00'
describe
'9916' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTBZ' 'sip-files00076thm.jpg'
b0d2a38a659accf762674062ef2424e4
02ce8b710861f631026dab11b0f4696248d408a5
describe
'1074663' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTCA' 'sip-files00077.jp2'
3611a09587479152aad74906e54ae074
57a67af5aa7d6639930cac16328cfb14c0f3ee61
'2011-11-14T23:00:38-05:00'
describe
'86733' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTCB' 'sip-files00077.jpg'
ec21e095d8b4d28dd75caca07a8e105e
bec7d4c73d6ce1383ab72b87133a4d6b14a341bf
describe
'33255' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTCC' 'sip-files00077.pro'
011de80c754f327172a0477659900416
1e981db8f0cece08750d965092c1c9405b4ed261
describe
'31874' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTCD' 'sip-files00077.QC.jpg'
d1e761eec480701a9e8d02639dec59b6
4013ed13d1c3358ce49a1769806e34de1fd84d0b
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTCE' 'sip-files00077.tif'
177b53c7ded67395a0d0c6e7c3da5c5b
9bdb8e5f8c64b249516a319fd6b53e59c31461df
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTCF' 'sip-files00077.txt'
96dc84efe9522369ce1a1eb1fb2a201e
3c4146dea09cf9a234fa4c7811fed9b2686c77c0
describe
'9070' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTCG' 'sip-files00077thm.jpg'
9e270bbf959047111c54b05a97888c6f
516948cfb18cb6bc6a03446234776508a8176e28
describe
'1059688' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTCH' 'sip-files00078.jp2'
8fb9d23a349cd3f735787874dff51621
9c4045012a55502091968171822d057bb9462841
describe
'80044' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTCI' 'sip-files00078.jpg'
e436f9b7c3cb8eb672af75daa244ffbb
c29211b0bac0df6f1dce3bb59225f1c8a020c0b0
describe
'30377' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTCJ' 'sip-files00078.pro'
1604d3f04e539f55ed8712f4b7131ae1
f551a57f1c62f1e25a095de704c0f694f5b4af2f
'2011-11-14T22:59:35-05:00'
describe
'28658' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTCK' 'sip-files00078.QC.jpg'
6379ed4a34d1430c317384c845ee7237
2636a56ba782d88effb4ec23f63cbb88f8ba1897
'2011-11-14T22:57:23-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTCL' 'sip-files00078.tif'
a1882bde3c82d6ba93b6f2c4d67b020f
6be6f7bdc1e55d7b9fa04641168b3e38c6d73acd
describe
'1231' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTCM' 'sip-files00078.txt'
4f203767e8eb3379f62b24ec120c7c02
3fa22ae9ec99e20dabdb6768218ca98899a217d9
describe
'9191' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTCN' 'sip-files00078thm.jpg'
9aae3da3b27844a6a56503703e7e606b
fbfc56fa1835e0abe69370c871c64beed052af55
describe
'1074786' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTCO' 'sip-files00079.jp2'
0de0c1196d14da658bd25909de70e5a1
694146e51d9bbbfa421c14d9333b7c592367a6fc
'2011-11-14T22:56:09-05:00'
describe
'78614' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTCP' 'sip-files00079.jpg'
a285f8b6bd2ee27dff7b5ea6bca1ad67
a74e1c26260e656e6353719a77939dc535cb8ca1
'2011-11-14T23:01:36-05:00'
describe
'29815' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTCQ' 'sip-files00079.pro'
a936636a53fb85c4a9680eba27c17b19
0b2d4673d7e2a279aff8b724de3342a13e82f6e8
describe
'28713' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTCR' 'sip-files00079.QC.jpg'
d5313c0ce96d435b87d0a78da0c93ce5
1e15b20aafe777b6dd96d2df94683e4cbb0b9881
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTCS' 'sip-files00079.tif'
538db38bab736c19035695637ab9f249
1a30142ea7a168178ff9ccf0e7869d0c2b15f23d
describe
'1218' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTCT' 'sip-files00079.txt'
0725b0e5b573181bc9a3f6977f037668
f94da887a5791cfb99e675abfe646cfb122b3b68
describe
'8567' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTCU' 'sip-files00079thm.jpg'
c8728f35b8e20ad60b380698da9d0781
df24460da2537db8e8f0471fc6cca33d19a5c7a5
describe
'1059710' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTCV' 'sip-files00080.jp2'
939d68e95c6629dec5bed528e94cc20e
6cb5238227ca7fe76803e1f7445523bd3ef4b7a8
describe
'82597' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTCW' 'sip-files00080.jpg'
39bcb61da10894ad4eff142058c68679
b50a990463b09c470a9cd318d96cc18f51ee6f86
describe
'32825' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTCX' 'sip-files00080.pro'
7ecad85c5be4dac85b6d1766c8b41bf3
cb83d97a063cb4da7584402ca3715da5cedf4011
'2011-11-14T23:00:04-05:00'
describe
'30838' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTCY' 'sip-files00080.QC.jpg'
0b9898072b132a4df1f0c86d5a459cf1
0a577d383193151e7a4b7976353550a9530d9330
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTCZ' 'sip-files00080.tif'
092fdcf24bfddfd27d7d9c45d60bde8a
bb7f490408e67bda5e0be17de3ff9da8af5e10af
describe
'1363' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTDA' 'sip-files00080.txt'
3bf5dfbd45f9645e8a35bb6665c52b06
a9a646744d2b1a912c7d0fba5e5738289814c9ac
describe
'9416' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTDB' 'sip-files00080thm.jpg'
aabcc51cb466102661f7ea77060025e0
19af9bb79188ae90b9957e65aa51a1bf1f709020
describe
'1074823' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTDC' 'sip-files00081.jp2'
67b645d2393ff717fb78c160e7f8c3d6
86f1e1776d76e35f5cc7d0b6c0eb1ea6f0a2fcb5
describe
'85061' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTDD' 'sip-files00081.jpg'
8e6bd46bdc71a9593fafd6789e0a5239
8ed265fcb3af9cf6677c697c61d069819e4e32e1
describe
'33075' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTDE' 'sip-files00081.pro'
df5028c45370846c67fe0d31c81d9dde
1f1982af043373d0a1d50bf8250a8ccc12f6b861
'2011-11-14T22:56:47-05:00'
describe
'31773' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTDF' 'sip-files00081.QC.jpg'
f3656f64ef843ae4058d22acbf1744ee
2681f33f583a750a10f0bc9b5a23d5f741c6b374
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTDG' 'sip-files00081.tif'
2283c1a6144001e16785aae137a15a49
2c217247a15a73f64d71a1dd4d49a871b276a7dc
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTDH' 'sip-files00081.txt'
0866a825d1c342f649418d16e2d2963d
313b7798142cd47ac9c25af5e960a502987189c2
describe
'9254' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTDI' 'sip-files00081thm.jpg'
0884cb67813ae83064a69018a52fc1dd
3bf1863132c804c055e0485a51c65f76f4982a0b
describe
'1059739' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTDJ' 'sip-files00082.jp2'
fe2a5a30101ee981f30878c0dfeea273
84f78b47c6c1e9083acbbd0c229d5a9e205d3df8
'2011-11-14T22:57:45-05:00'
describe
'87033' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTDK' 'sip-files00082.jpg'
4d80ea3c3918de0a1c9b49e242e10347
e84c4feeca62f10d96c5d612da92f9479275ca48
'2011-11-14T22:54:59-05:00'
describe
'34768' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTDL' 'sip-files00082.pro'
4e3ce3baa5c0dd32628e41fc88a3ca47
f804f65703f83eb8e1a3276b0a8c029e2f7ca841
describe
'32256' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTDM' 'sip-files00082.QC.jpg'
de97b9265881622c9af905db3cf7391e
49ccf9e4ca4c24ffe161e542e5cb17907c518704
'2011-11-14T23:01:13-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTDN' 'sip-files00082.tif'
bec364588688f9ed6e27bfea08cc418c
35145f17f31227043790f133dc061d8074476f7e
describe
'1458' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTDO' 'sip-files00082.txt'
2919f9b4f5cec38f1c9dae2d57874711
91abbe0efc2e0ee979be8867db869d0846f35673
'2011-11-14T23:00:08-05:00'
describe
'9841' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTDP' 'sip-files00082thm.jpg'
c93c56bf8c613444c5f5ace81ce96c7c
5e91227db70ecfd83d7b3985071d1f51548c8cdb
describe
'1074806' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTDQ' 'sip-files00083.jp2'
ef9ee8c1e6f7639c37e8f154a18077df
f857ed73ee2ac8513368d019f4ecf16a48aa60be
describe
'85975' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTDR' 'sip-files00083.jpg'
cd1a9dae8a8c1f3f337d8f64d24d2243
819631786b6f79187712e1859fdaac04211a14cc
describe
'34236' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTDS' 'sip-files00083.pro'
8e8518876570b349745154a924a151f6
39e397faec920eb7437d5b0551ffd99bb45fe92d
describe
'31776' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTDT' 'sip-files00083.QC.jpg'
9ea329a88c539176ae6123f39a5c1e26
9141922bf6bc9f7dcf0447acf8a82b30a70373bb
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTDU' 'sip-files00083.tif'
24c267094354b9648bee5947445fa886
dc32ae717fc415aca8ceb90614f7aa0a06c50c5e
describe
'1381' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTDV' 'sip-files00083.txt'
096ac73b6354f10a4f70a97c47e03801
3721f03c158001600a067367bb39c8ec5fdd41cc
'2011-11-14T22:58:31-05:00'
describe
'9195' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTDW' 'sip-files00083thm.jpg'
16f4d5d08c0072cd3d44a49b6519906a
b4c020ff6a689c3dfd878910b3be8f4be8c9695a
describe
'1059708' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTDX' 'sip-files00084.jp2'
380e38e547b256cdf05116f2ccc28163
818d28ca2ff90b56c158a95cdc6a936936e95d18
describe
'82422' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTDY' 'sip-files00084.jpg'
8b9845df8a8d1f708c8111ecec979acb
171ab4bbf3b35820db39103df9b314622e20cc1c
'2011-11-14T22:59:52-05:00'
describe
'32548' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTDZ' 'sip-files00084.pro'
08767c7a8c91bf9490b5042956da5d09
0655fb1d45afb88383d8ae2417c33d461568052f
describe
'30272' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTEA' 'sip-files00084.QC.jpg'
c25b31524581214380e50db1e603d86e
15d756d772488236f342a26f373d70f1b33cb3c7
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTEB' 'sip-files00084.tif'
1584ccebd25d0950a55745fc4e7a0940
f5e7d2275916c5e252e9ea3ebd9a27b1a88f2e42
describe
'1362' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTEC' 'sip-files00084.txt'
59119405a4688b1ee78bb01332c0106b
1708230b2e47576ab6fee4bf5869a4cabafb009c
describe
'9403' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTED' 'sip-files00084thm.jpg'
84d53cbd7fa3e756de153b8ead89e76a
04395edd3185827e94f76f4307a4ef869345431c
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTEE' 'sip-files00085.jp2'
6a11d661565c9ef9f43567ba731bd30a
675be0070815e1187e80389b4507ee09b8d612f8
'2011-11-14T22:55:03-05:00'
describe
'84067' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTEF' 'sip-files00085.jpg'
3035b332de942ea8ff0b4958ca9a3574
9b75edf6867c0366bb2aa6f908c5656f686c87fc
'2011-11-14T22:55:15-05:00'
describe
'33116' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTEG' 'sip-files00085.pro'
56644e82231716b2f30ec755fec33e63
c7dd92d333962916669e432c5c6e0be9c7776341
describe
'30980' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTEH' 'sip-files00085.QC.jpg'
ef7adca8c688df1aaaf16150e06b72de
3f14ca193310cf37e25edd29d7ab8017e0508832
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTEI' 'sip-files00085.tif'
eced5193dd3be97686d12e487d6964f0
afa8734bf2091d47df6d242f7aef16e20954386c
describe
'1323' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTEJ' 'sip-files00085.txt'
707566bcb3b71c6a2014291fb023fa05
cad01be88a254860611d4d1b6c536c26c0a2c44d
describe
'8853' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTEK' 'sip-files00085thm.jpg'
a40d01c470fc6ce534d825a5aecd11bb
dab48571c368797a6b2b7271cd8cf730439befe2
describe
'1059649' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTEL' 'sip-files00086.jp2'
620082cd99f835387cdbc541a80b3e66
d6fb63010f26f5b4de0b46dd4f2cfc96bd300123
describe
'82063' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTEM' 'sip-files00086.jpg'
5936857a4dc5b530a0ccbcaf9e14ace7
c6a7aca1017667bea39e30d00ae0e17902fe9134
describe
'31931' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTEN' 'sip-files00086.pro'
b0f83a663dff74610457352e9f0c799c
2c99ab1243937d13880c28dec1d8c75576e123f1
describe
'30399' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTEO' 'sip-files00086.QC.jpg'
da084caa185fd0e7794d7dfaa1162f52
d7574928f93813ccbb10b49b3fae68a6088c1b2a
'2011-11-14T22:56:45-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTEP' 'sip-files00086.tif'
f8697de687b7e92e547d60eeebed17a4
7be9f6a3a33ebd8e4f4d3585f7a75255c7e496a3
describe
'1288' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTEQ' 'sip-files00086.txt'
f2524ecf951eb52be68aa24be7b8b500
b33888dc3204c99065b7720be8496aeb14255c89
describe
'9742' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTER' 'sip-files00086thm.jpg'
9d538f7e71b79774507399c7bf1ab30d
18ce2ca38773108eec06289bec1cfb12a656c09b
describe
'1074731' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTES' 'sip-files00087.jp2'
79ea9e08468a94aeff2fd9030a10cf51
a7cefbcbe9132796ff591c4637a2c94f7156bb3d
describe
'82736' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTET' 'sip-files00087.jpg'
97575ba8ed5680af30778e2cfe41a1cc
50e88fe3931b46c4e8171a4ee3be1824d52d8c3e
describe
'32631' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTEU' 'sip-files00087.pro'
ea3a56e2084df55ea3e95e90cef8577a
ab308610c53d79a4e2bb080a5e80dc6ed0c00b59
describe
'30160' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTEV' 'sip-files00087.QC.jpg'
68f473d9773eb0711deaa2b04180473a
d511b05b30f511159032f04c596b7f92148a7b47
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTEW' 'sip-files00087.tif'
1967361e2abfdda164ecaacc13b2299f
05275bfd5b0527b64c88ff134786f04571fa20db
'2011-11-14T22:59:10-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTEX' 'sip-files00087.txt'
73094310755ef6504e0e10c480d7d2f4
2db59422adc1c6914ace562a8c5dd77ccaed8353
describe
'8731' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTEY' 'sip-files00087thm.jpg'
1dd25486697aea798b15a2a14f84706b
5efa38603a982b42c951fafda3d58d985e8d9d59
'2011-11-14T22:59:49-05:00'
describe
'1059703' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTEZ' 'sip-files00088.jp2'
0905441f20f39887b4706e7a3dcd9729
f178d1a3c715340eeae1a214cfff51706c96ab1a
describe
'77235' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTFA' 'sip-files00088.jpg'
f3f9d7a8e4dd907650694c31bf2f23ec
adaf32dbf7715011dcd449d899eb5c8c9fe827dd
describe
'136594' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTFB' 'sip-filesBack.jpg'
34cdfbf35383d3c0494605c1b6b08bb5
f6a483d110ccb7f58a36b7d84c82ddd4581b3129
'2011-11-14T23:00:15-05:00'
describe
'30776' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTFC' 'sip-files00088.pro'
558015ee540e17a2800a79ddd2926a83
1651de338820252f8eb00a4347dc5891b85eb694
'2011-11-14T22:59:59-05:00'
describe
'28725' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTFD' 'sip-files00088.QC.jpg'
53e7a0c2ca3ff71e04dcf9ac50bf9cdd
371dfe41ff881de3033440ce234cdf1c8e9f259d
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTFE' 'sip-files00088.tif'
43e436119a707ccb48459983d38f29a9
3bd8bf4310d51412873b9d27702e9a3f412de7c9
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTFF' 'sip-files00088.txt'
755f1a00406e2c21825418918d715665
d58608882ceb454f601c51c555f251e80c96c98f
describe
'8982' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTFG' 'sip-files00088thm.jpg'
b0fc8ff11de2507fac7d6b66c652c7ec
e33b08b3972a285c14c3065f748a2c6af2edd2be
describe
'1074672' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTFH' 'sip-files00089.jp2'
3c8d11d01063072426b88a773aa99f09
e6d11294370a7053aec56d81d1223bde431cff32
describe
'85319' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTFI' 'sip-files00089.jpg'
2618e2e827c0a49fdd527e5ff741fb34
ba75ff521d39d52d601cc0a00411d7c254a93c31
describe
'33374' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTFJ' 'sip-files00089.pro'
d9494e53da34296fe0efaeb56d03c8fb
99baae6036e8194aedcc1549766c9df1c5f4f866
describe
'31412' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTFK' 'sip-files00089.QC.jpg'
33bbd4d5401b335ba4f6d5b9241cec64
bf4433817309fd748cb2a3e6b9c11db2c8879581
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTFL' 'sip-files00089.tif'
de6bb5fb54fe4e24e3f041278d015bb6
c1534a88ad09df6ea65637129c628a0a9781062f
describe
'1329' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTFM' 'sip-files00089.txt'
1404efd0927257ff2531925baece3f32
0398edae97ebbcd48ba2d6965a1c55d7e100123a
describe
'9146' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTFN' 'sip-files00089thm.jpg'
98484960d2363d7dc89a679eb1ef10cb
860509235f02e46414a17cbd2a439c7b587dcfe6
'2011-11-14T23:01:10-05:00'
describe
'1059738' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTFO' 'sip-files00090.jp2'
2cdb80a9323209465708901e28f885f0
a3c9fb5426d08bc0bfe8c50cdfc399d2cd4bb690
describe
'78600' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTFP' 'sip-files00090.jpg'
3c3e325b7bfa8062c94224fad4f97dae
ad861b67bc4dfb3ed15a4b245bc40b8baeaead87
describe
'30702' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTFQ' 'sip-files00090.pro'
d73aacf1a74a902fae2a43c2274afb54
0d215ceed167e5ba2af40038c5823d69ccbf12e6
describe
'29204' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTFR' 'sip-files00090.QC.jpg'
1c863274f88f74b5315df863b2f22b95
fef23d5b842df5de5d1f6b14b6cac7b20dd19761
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTFS' 'sip-files00090.tif'
5c5ae65d3c19826bb1c8775a3c40b6cb
ce867ebdae3a4ade4a410c8c97abe7ef96fdf68a
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTFT' 'sip-files00090.txt'
0b07bc566002914485e0667ab4407ebe
a4f51ef56fade3ec9fca110afb2900ab9015920c
describe
'9030' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTFU' 'sip-files00090thm.jpg'
841b7d61bc00b604afcf987061162f51
466c94e2b4ec1356477c88d5e8d4752f0663f2a5
describe
'1071220' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTFV' 'sip-files00091.jp2'
ac1d8de37a1984fb32c20a7f3711aa10
8affd9a1fbdfba5e126b977b9749325ca350424a
describe
'78611' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTFW' 'sip-files00091.jpg'
4be0c8097e7f69d48205bc98c0df3997
bb3ed4723b30fca4837802fd25e6433652f6cede
describe
'29981' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTFX' 'sip-files00091.pro'
fa6164a17f1a4cd6de3c719f388e4a78
0ca6dc58af65863ac6286d0673059744ee38e14b
'2011-11-14T23:01:22-05:00'
describe
'29781' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTFY' 'sip-files00091.QC.jpg'
a5c1d47def85b01cabf90feb9034e67d
482732de9e56f4f54b63a9d0fb7884d2cae22950
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTFZ' 'sip-files00091.tif'
8502e0adc7e2af709d227d2975452976
6881dbc42b1ddacc9e7d8ea38cc29e2f4f404e97
describe
'1202' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTGA' 'sip-files00091.txt'
28a1843562669090c80c4aa3fc119735
26660755cefe8a2f5f27559ce593f3b8f2b367ea
describe
'8419' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTGB' 'sip-files00091thm.jpg'
31d4c87990d5f578ffbbb77ede19e8b8
d19d8d452c65d3500198f14053b3fc398ebd9b6c
describe
'888549' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTGC' 'sip-files00092.jp2'
99755caed019a7b251c0c4e6d15e78d4
6b40dc94a7da37d1321738996a6151ac87c099eb
describe
'48799' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTGD' 'sip-files00092.jpg'
a5fefdbde94029c2e6995675c5dbde8a
1c689563071b37756f98f3b4026f02b382ebb3ea
describe
'16391' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTGE' 'sip-files00092.pro'
fbe5de15c86b75c8ecbaafc520aebdc4
77c741ad34245d1476e3b98f80483dead4a3b3f2
describe
'17056' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTGF' 'sip-files00092.QC.jpg'
8389746293ff9d70f946ef142dc58484
314fc62fd0f00ac00c0debe03b5df10c9aee5d31
'2011-11-14T22:56:20-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTGG' 'sip-files00092.tif'
40867ef6ecd93f12012ef15b57289570
37b7710156e47ef05ba5d9933d8124a87be4a61a
'2011-11-14T23:00:45-05:00'
describe
'692' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTGH' 'sip-files00092.txt'
9b0995d96ae5b06852befdac01d552d5
d32d6098c399597902bf7994632840ae85f69492
'2011-11-14T22:59:51-05:00'
describe
'5309' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTGI' 'sip-files00092thm.jpg'
6dd917545ea6b4b8523709555cf16a7c
4f9ecc639601a5fe5152ec1b82e235d8e4bbf5fe
describe
'898262' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTGJ' 'sip-files00093.jp2'
9ea6a3b5e603db48a1514d823e00cf9b
92f5ae764727937cdf2e9ae8476d0a953606e5c2
describe
'55991' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTGK' 'sip-files00093.jpg'
503b77414106f1715635a5a1bf8b9583
2f3cb422e741d8c42dfd5f70c7557ef6f4976a1b
describe
'19396' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTGL' 'sip-files00093.pro'
6190ea508564a09cd4c726795e147f72
fe6a66fea4420db89a3e847cf09c2e6f1c5f10fb
describe
'20220' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTGM' 'sip-files00093.QC.jpg'
f05c0a53ac0937551acb470f8cd3487d
ec14dce8ba06bac69ddfcc9ce697c3d7f794fe0a
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTGN' 'sip-files00093.tif'
2d337ff4cfc18dc4ad438d8a4ff0fd1c
7d5ede3c3ff1a83d7e59dc8088d5a80bd85dc992
describe
'802' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTGO' 'sip-files00093.txt'
0e493843015c0e94c4db3981409e8f4f
56209c1b091582b1a9941850e9832ef480d50098
describe
'6175' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTGP' 'sip-files00093thm.jpg'
e4a594cec25b82ae31b80f75515969bc
ca28dc0c9f48f0c18cfccdf0d002d56ac77b48d8
describe
'1006797' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTGQ' 'sip-files00094.jp2'
ff32fd53ea44619f16e1d7f8341af442
c89d8ea831d5b98279d12eba36dced9e1e38d2a2
describe
'85747' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTGR' 'sip-files00094.jpg'
232ee68e11aecf8cc1dc4d6efab283a2
451a82937f6d3f4f72edf505352ece578ce1b565
describe
'33765' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTGS' 'sip-files00094.pro'
d99e5cad9b8e22ff8cfe435ec0fb14ac
c90cb80bc1fe2b87e981b73c0c261fd3a0794019
describe
'31424' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTGT' 'sip-files00094.QC.jpg'
9b42f84e79f774cd449cde45b19bcbe9
22c1aa183d244f72b80050619f3468ecbdd51d39
'2011-11-14T22:56:41-05:00'
describe
'8064049' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTGU' 'sip-files00094.tif'
7e1dc6c329a261c22dcd02440fae3acb
ea8847261330b2b36239a6777ee789d14e2cd7ef
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTGV' 'sip-files00094.txt'
058c3703a04accd9bf0bd2107cea8e35
7091176f69f5328a642e7929500d683e23777ccb
describe
'10348' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTGW' 'sip-files00094thm.jpg'
4c8d3ae8526e1b1c50c2d31b79216109
cede49faf0beece9e2c301fe5cce0f47b8ab0d22
'2011-11-14T23:01:03-05:00'
describe
'1076507' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTGX' 'sip-files00095.jp2'
fbd8b39c60af82e23a04e01d057c1496
84ab79c19a24f1b831095502335c4341d3f96f6f
describe
'83640' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTGY' 'sip-files00095.jpg'
053883f359c48682fc1779fe9e830148
176852d797532344bc317f589a921e0f9fe09063
describe
'33434' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTGZ' 'sip-files00095.pro'
b7a6a95317f799f71163e29a4ab8b458
152f251f97b2921182fb9e51c349c54686f45b63
describe
'30186' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTHA' 'sip-files00095.QC.jpg'
83c0628c7295fd986271116d50be84de
2980400ebe32aa95e0f5bc6a1a4dc649cebdd419
describe
'8622157' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTHB' 'sip-files00095.tif'
5c687344048df0d22e83325b35aa3947
086697420cf04bcee1c16181f0567decaee8f182
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTHC' 'sip-files00095.txt'
b2ff9d9682a710667dbe04e92a45965c
d31a8a6993ff283e064b5d7ce93c398d3728ccc3
describe
'9023' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTHD' 'sip-files00095thm.jpg'
82de62868c25090ed620b71f31e39e21
239131f9fa7ce49c749a7c2251f459b6c69b0970
describe
'1045335' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTHE' 'sip-files00096.jp2'
650f50922f083681a6a7e969cfbcd986
ae1cb260012c765ab27337141e5ee4744e368c7c
'2011-11-14T22:56:58-05:00'
describe
'87735' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTHF' 'sip-files00096.jpg'
4704bde1ccb79022c32add2e8dcd1e36
6223ae906ba36fd09f81e7a4cbac5f02550f2d86
'2011-11-14T22:56:25-05:00'
describe
'34594' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTHG' 'sip-files00096.pro'
0c34fd551417d6cd4f248d2b089e1888
994d24500c6081123b9fd1b2e4bb74b5e38b17f5
describe
'32053' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTHH' 'sip-files00096.QC.jpg'
2a0ab37fa2ff5943733163ab3d729acb
f947b25ee9414c3ef57257c87f2ca98fcb7eb832
describe
'8372815' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTHI' 'sip-files00096.tif'
b2e1012e943950782fc1b22accfab139
3e85a25be0c993dcd3973c7306b2792376e68d75
describe
'1421' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTHJ' 'sip-files00096.txt'
d107db9439dd2cd766448d72fa1916e1
2344ec138981b226b764909edea382a538799dbc
'2011-11-14T22:59:12-05:00'
describe
'9586' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTHK' 'sip-files00096thm.jpg'
2d0d7c2131b4d5ac8c3f73b2851b2b25
343726a8075d9cccd9dfd5883df10d96234d85f6
describe
'1076541' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTHL' 'sip-files00097.jp2'
c9fdcd4d2363b9ad9c1030e65f60b100
d7596d7d835c87195ff8f6a516107b7c4f20c89f
describe
'88978' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTHM' 'sip-files00097.jpg'
1842073dd433f812013bcf43dc700764
91cf2bae5d3090365a80e576192ed584a13d545a
describe
'35471' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTHN' 'sip-files00097.pro'
ac6d0db7ff15096ac7911986273172a0
1e762cc6d542cfd59899dc838f57ae5ff8005746
describe
'33588' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTHO' 'sip-files00097.QC.jpg'
cd0bd04828884cd6032a80e70ed98b0b
4515794c7f2dda14ed5f6ba6b355c3eb51ed8907
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTHP' 'sip-files00097.tif'
bb5bdfca31107929ea0b0fd053e985a4
216fa7cb1552d7f49ee50899f9114cf611c325cb
describe
'1407' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTHQ' 'sip-files00097.txt'
c6a997fb53a949a1524b4d74f21933e4
a43f83249c1f63f89449e2e6c87cc8ac10b8ede7
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTHR' 'sip-files00097thm.jpg'
80bc809c9da17f11cfb80c262ca6af93
ef9ccc10d2c45c79a25c3fa6a5a87c34d793595e
'2011-11-14T22:58:05-05:00'
describe
'1045356' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTHS' 'sip-files00098.jp2'
52e3672a0ed62ce0bb896b0aa154a9ec
6c94cdacd0587b7245459299433fd31b1e812917
describe
'82824' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTHT' 'sip-files00098.jpg'
0694d8523a64d6e247dbfb87a5d4ba74
63e26f99846412f55f0a5ec33ae5b2146a4be3e9
'2011-11-14T23:00:01-05:00'
describe
'31655' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTHU' 'sip-files00098.pro'
0291bc7a5466dda3975ca20f8205b07b
5a13dc0b86644f6a2e9ec473c458f923e5a7d45e
describe
'31188' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTHV' 'sip-files00098.QC.jpg'
4f78414d19e9bf05d9f4987c88d44d42
9a674ec7931fb580a344e40dd7484c05e9fc7c31
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTHW' 'sip-files00098.tif'
0cb6ee6e3124c552e9be792bb676226a
4fbce15e66fbf20bdf0f94f3e1df56df836d3f08
describe
'1278' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTHX' 'sip-files00098.txt'
627ececc7351d161745b532328ae1e35
66303e1372d87ca7505dd05da9492783b880fbe2
describe
'9460' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTHY' 'sip-files00098thm.jpg'
42b43b96fa31547cb432a306c8cf7f26
641388e97aeb19ea358bd088886c90de4f31360f
describe
'1076518' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTHZ' 'sip-files00099.jp2'
20abe50eb093ba0c2fc598516d87acc3
168111330706516a08b8bd746650564bcc2db059
'2011-11-14T22:55:57-05:00'
describe
'82173' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTIA' 'sip-files00099.jpg'
86e5da7539dae233be99bf7977a23caf
505315774f94a909da980cc8cfd7adfbe41c3487
describe
'33064' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTIB' 'sip-files00099.pro'
3cb9da8c8384b635fff2d5f3636159ae
26cdf33d426aacb2f80608acf66b10f01290c704
describe
'30743' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTIC' 'sip-files00099.QC.jpg'
70951fc98451710cf69182136c464ea9
a47eb12bbfa3bdb912c96265b4ccb4467f5ac4d1
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTID' 'sip-files00099.tif'
9dd61634927782edc0ea76fbf5f4db3c
b9502d26469f8a21981b5b9c4a75250b11b2dfce
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTIE' 'sip-files00099.txt'
5180d7c5c18871582f14017bdac2a504
8947e88b12c15a50c9f9816b2cc6317d5b3bb105
'2011-11-14T23:00:51-05:00'
describe
'9266' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTIF' 'sip-files00099thm.jpg'
388bea0c3556102b975f0b1d3b5265f9
619051b8c18ea671982349af94fff4fa51d14f09
'2011-11-14T22:57:16-05:00'
describe
'1045358' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTIG' 'sip-files00100.jp2'
d0551ecd8d6b286b7aaf514381dc032d
50d23be76ffa88108fe2dfcbbb4a5820b0d2e079
describe
'89406' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTIH' 'sip-files00100.jpg'
1c6f07c65e45dc8f4c0e58e0c6158701
fa279f60561ef733df071a2fd8c7924edd761777
describe
'35291' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTII' 'sip-files00100.pro'
335ca5a2d732e89ee4791357d9fb7d73
df4d6af2877f7b57a537ad470e5335f4be6a3856
describe
'33140' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTIJ' 'sip-files00100.QC.jpg'
8ea6d20a56b4917efd989f769843737f
387b31423f355d6b5a168d5df54bc8e152434937
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTIK' 'sip-files00100.tif'
ca207eec51c34cf6b8d031c1614c76d7
24b6c03998d85ade8142ab12971b325421502707
'2011-11-14T22:59:24-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTIL' 'sip-files00100.txt'
dc273c6c8300606a9a181018e4cf5f4f
45e6e45e1caa6efea2936c09482d58885fdc5dd6
describe
'9698' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTIM' 'sip-files00100thm.jpg'
98d0f59deef5ff6257c842f76e239051
3c455a4f3f27df772973f5812b1de850f77a4638
describe
'1076529' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTIN' 'sip-files00101.jp2'
760f0b829a5a3bda24ac22fa4f5bfa28
dac14140eb6486b7bdaa64807aee6cd080ec2b59
describe
'84202' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTIO' 'sip-files00101.jpg'
d88e93912c4ecbba4b7548dfd971530f
cd9c94a2c7c1921c0c8ec4d7d508f89952a37e9a
describe
'34118' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTIP' 'sip-files00101.pro'
c6fdda30fc6b57b0dfee2d2a2301be2a
e2df47d4c6ae0d215a8fd600cfc814a91a9e4fbe
describe
'31010' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTIQ' 'sip-files00101.QC.jpg'
bb02dcd38af9c295760c2083e343f9ba
5bdd45f62ccdfb966a9b5b00615ee7bfd07312c0
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTIR' 'sip-files00101.tif'
1d92d014f30bd353a378a7834b4f8dc2
6daffb5840a171eaebe9796be2d81bc7b7520760
describe
'1356' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTIS' 'sip-files00101.txt'
3a30056895b3f36801df861e678a7737
d98c5d9833d7e0be77e998974f91d02164eacd13
'2011-11-14T23:01:05-05:00'
describe
'9370' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTIT' 'sip-files00101thm.jpg'
cc69a842cb64a60b8cb7e7a77b839a21
390795304af88dc1e190955637a8cb391c7a2762
describe
'1045381' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTIU' 'sip-files00102.jp2'
26d3e32a1c7d5ff9c2297e3719a0c124
786349d5644ffbbf3767454ac2b722b8d53f3bbd
describe
'92114' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTIV' 'sip-files00102.jpg'
63c6e753b40bfaaf06e4eee78fc32406
b30c44f43587b1dfab6253236e5512678182404d
describe
'36209' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTIW' 'sip-files00102.pro'
cfeddae5b10ee249d0b60c890585f803
35581ef9ac6099b2c434a3a80be1ab0d4bf250c1
describe
'34475' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTIX' 'sip-files00102.QC.jpg'
c8db2f7eb22dc1e5e1a44d914cdd277b
dc935724aed7bf7c87e54b0bcf02c2565bb7722b
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTIY' 'sip-files00102.tif'
e01e709e5945665c409e9e61759246c8
48ff87d2d75d6664a636ecd613de347a046bab1f
describe
'1444' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTIZ' 'sip-files00102.txt'
a31603da98f334c7e1ceb168e86ec226
55a2e75c7bf6f71b94dd082de11f74cc3d4539fd
describe
'10142' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTJA' 'sip-files00102thm.jpg'
aeef7370dd4c158f8b523e1e2c6f794a
a4be1e30330af5c1aee844d433882d816f4d50a3
'2011-11-14T22:56:44-05:00'
describe
'1081289' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTJB' 'sip-files00103.jp2'
f859882b6fc1375800d35145ffce3e93
a218da7ff51123afe1a21683ec3d9d4b317570ae
describe
'86935' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTJC' 'sip-files00103.jpg'
e757e1ab6dfb8fd8d4f2c9549b683e0e
895ea3f317e3789608d3f44e6a8902581266ca91
'2011-11-14T22:59:02-05:00'
describe
'34699' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTJD' 'sip-files00103.pro'
10c29cfd3509a6e1b827fa20a1f1bf8e
f607eaa92e0e39bf1bb3b0d90a8330c0d4f7396c
describe
'31967' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTJE' 'sip-files00103.QC.jpg'
25d68a4545f2936f3af9693d4ba86ad8
a9ffa84834541da80fedf5c2666a56de0d72f088
describe
'8660311' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTJF' 'sip-files00103.tif'
6557461e081ac90c6ee03917825d1698
07dc3a342753f27386d222bc59b06fa27174b05a
'2011-11-14T22:58:01-05:00'
describe
'1408' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTJG' 'sip-files00103.txt'
97cf17dbb88f99ce22ccc0a834a1429b
ce1c30adfe98f021b5323beea389ef273e87b243
describe
'9674' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTJH' 'sip-files00103thm.jpg'
a6fe87714ec1637344fb274d1bbec686
0b70096a64b43bd1cff8b86d562b8e47c44fe481
describe
'1045334' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTJI' 'sip-files00104.jp2'
b9e1776a7af1fe45e276646537334a29
ffd76fee37da4f3d3dbd98a19d461436d4370f36
describe
'88570' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTJJ' 'sip-files00104.jpg'
f1796181b62142beb6ec4958ad4d1844
2b1f18e6622d113d81a2fd26a12f502e9932aab8
describe
'34731' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTJK' 'sip-files00104.pro'
0f5daf014094cb207d6eb1e53ebd628f
bd621ebe6866fa9b5f3f84fd1c25df281da3faa2
'2011-11-14T22:57:42-05:00'
describe
'32669' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTJL' 'sip-files00104.QC.jpg'
8ed1c61b345b16cc0d9f97c9f183f820
8d76c4cf80e8a2c7b7211b264411f0e2d9fb55b9
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTJM' 'sip-files00104.tif'
2949b934d194ced0b6bb17a0ec655822
282f23b9951aa38331f74c1199d3bd38757cb8c5
'2011-11-14T22:58:53-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTJN' 'sip-files00104.txt'
c9d3c5b0ccf18818b5a5985f53bdb1f0
044d80b55309ca11e1b445091bfae1dd54f2aa57
describe
'9799' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTJO' 'sip-files00104thm.jpg'
19e7f226a0baa5981df8554bfd6dad11
a4eb2b47a366ed8a67b3461d22b1d27af32bc346
describe
'1081314' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTJP' 'sip-files00105.jp2'
3cb6b9af8c6092604b0e8154ca297782
24addaa1e59e36b422afdfb3d2b1b8f1caa1e3f6
describe
'82342' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTJQ' 'sip-files00105.jpg'
19058dda268216f5220993b19061af8c
02c078647ca8cb42437a743f6fbc7b0063bac561
describe
'31992' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTJR' 'sip-files00105.pro'
9a3a8b89d78fa86d7df72a4ec993fa85
815e64e32476cc5ee225bb3ac0feae72a62d3327
describe
'30926' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTJS' 'sip-files00105.QC.jpg'
f542cd25cf6eb2ab5098de8591c0b583
037119f8f19a988f10a6bf3421b562e51a392721
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTJT' 'sip-files00105.tif'
24af62b6b09338215a9974eabca7fde0
5c16e0d0c328bf51dd81b6f0ee038db5a3a971b6
describe
'1275' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTJU' 'sip-files00105.txt'
e73482fbd3d3392bcfd748fc3305af88
3d9e8d5ee2a09b73251370084c95a090df1ea0dc
describe
'9443' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTJV' 'sip-files00105thm.jpg'
87ec1e14990c580c22789f4dbe3a4fe7
10e6f55dec91451b74809acd440b77157d1debc7
describe
'1045280' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTJW' 'sip-files00106.jp2'
d6d92aed8de12f1e1c06890286e40adb
9f4b5f271f3b8759486514cc7d9655fa1a23eaa0
describe
'87155' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTJX' 'sip-files00106.jpg'
e27e9815fb418353a1327968a06e12fa
6825765b4610ab90e1997d55f9f439953d87bd88
describe
'34780' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTJY' 'sip-files00106.pro'
e57d569a1f99e94d5359419bd903f1af
6969d8bf42f95553362852348d7777b2ec396e04
describe
'32984' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTJZ' 'sip-files00106.QC.jpg'
13874accf823631e3948596e65024d08
787069262a1d2119cde073cdc0b6f1f156216bf0
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTKA' 'sip-files00106.tif'
05fd07428dedf91e4e733dd7d9bbae80
f7dac91bcab963c2acd9d96bf68550b06b6a845a
'2011-11-14T23:01:23-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTKB' 'sip-files00106.txt'
d7b45df28d404ffde8c9f3156edb5f0f
264623d5cfba5528560e9597766b78632a25834d
describe
'9781' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTKC' 'sip-files00106thm.jpg'
73a6ccf47ac22af06cebae18ae02a3df
456cd7b8ad6576d0659c4352b64b57e86bbe0d90
describe
'1081206' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTKD' 'sip-files00107.jp2'
7590b3b23b02bab27d0b33b75e7b7807
a95a8bbbbf8721dca922bf79cfd17bbf4dae866e
'2011-11-14T22:58:32-05:00'
describe
'82499' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTKE' 'sip-files00107.jpg'
fe547a01cadcecf9c1e5e4c483d8232b
59c504d0a48ad5caaeb02e10cc5d8f280586f9f5
describe
'33506' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTKF' 'sip-files00107.pro'
88bfd612c7c08a7d1ac4f5a9d47a5622
1e8c0c449d3bf84909a16f315cf36000f9e85bcd
describe
'29843' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTKG' 'sip-files00107.QC.jpg'
3a2453d3acb801bf08d2586e33d65c13
0fadc13f1a58a0a28c50e06120e35660adcb5c33
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTKH' 'sip-files00107.tif'
cf84f447c0b2cf4e67c0b53f88dcc466
3942d0468065421b46b56a142ed3ae44031d97cd
'2011-11-14T22:57:46-05:00'
describe
'1342' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTKI' 'sip-files00107.txt'
6bc8e9b9b142d809aa8c67496da2671e
df37cff9ce4f15208ab46e492219d3ce709d9b4c
describe
'9291' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTKJ' 'sip-files00107thm.jpg'
307b7a8b8c021ef8d70cf65d59731a3b
a177f74cc01e4ba77b8738241e39e84a6204ac64
'2011-11-14T22:58:09-05:00'
describe
'1045389' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTKK' 'sip-files00108.jp2'
bb53d742c4862d66f6be5b69091de62f
d0f062eeec4f3a3325ac6a11435df1823fb234d9
describe
'83969' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTKL' 'sip-files00108.jpg'
b97cf6739a9c80232c094fdffcf4a6af
6a48afff0a02224cf5b3b2715da0a79b724a79f9
describe
'33333' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTKM' 'sip-files00108.pro'
267982ce7422e8ee456b9d8472969a53
22ec5dfe3b61e4f84f2543d811665641b0c331f9
describe
'31198' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTKN' 'sip-files00108.QC.jpg'
4b948d6dced87b8be07afef4e230d2b9
d7c443deb5b1fcae740326ef8799920db070be77
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTKO' 'sip-files00108.tif'
c9819199d8a8d04ddcf7f506feaca029
e2609bcc0bf1165db1718d159f5b9145acd7716b
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTKP' 'sip-files00108.txt'
110d10752f15c905c55b3ef99567a6a3
622cb34c5d980633ad10c1440064715a54f635c2
describe
'9099' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTKQ' 'sip-files00108thm.jpg'
21f61944ee84cbb96af5bd1b11d762a9
e0698b9a44019a07ec516336c8c844d764f8bf79
describe
'1081312' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTKR' 'sip-files00109.jp2'
8359ab84dbbf35c66e8c45d997670764
cb47d46cfa037c4a2053cf5999cf71e5e9866571
describe
'79639' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTKS' 'sip-files00109.jpg'
9096534ae3b36b14d4460b70b619c6d4
18a18a1ea92c82f227fff6b8c116872d3d996be1
'2011-11-14T22:57:05-05:00'
describe
'31054' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTKT' 'sip-files00109.pro'
a652487474485a00ffe0c32674bcb9d3
6c4dfbea9547f2e67734f43dd3700dd68cc36303
describe
'29476' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTKU' 'sip-files00109.QC.jpg'
5b8e1d02d72123de275d91043833eb71
467738fa35282664794bb61ec30f4d7893d622d5
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTKV' 'sip-files00109.tif'
2c9047dcd79a4db228780b8768f2dd21
ee0ddbac5c1c5e9aafe2168790055611e4156db4
describe
'1267' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTKW' 'sip-files00109.txt'
d888eecd80093f4226ba4ae11d7e75e8
74c11f2d58ec38d04f47d460d5dc1dabdea9a2d0
describe
'9140' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTKX' 'sip-files00109thm.jpg'
e34471179a7a0fe69c447cf262c03bf1
6f26bdf270700cf79b1e331d0589aac508b83444
describe
'1045361' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTKY' 'sip-files00110.jp2'
fca95dcaf8d200cb8676685bc9581b4c
28627f427a58a2cf7ea8758da65ebb39154f5e3b
describe
'90258' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTKZ' 'sip-files00110.jpg'
fb3b3b7fdc3033821715a3ceb6a1570a
c52b9be141266d6fc55c7c095f4b038026e9a026
'2011-11-14T22:55:16-05:00'
describe
'35404' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTLA' 'sip-files00110.pro'
d412d556a65d47463f4472d26bacdc58
1d4f5b9b10cbe68d87f4ffa6140f783df6d7a6ee
describe
'33550' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTLB' 'sip-files00110.QC.jpg'
781592130db624b90e8532abbc72385e
59a144e2e7838585950e1382c0104fde256f01e5
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTLC' 'sip-files00110.tif'
c5baf58fbdfcd34e2d6d4c29a106b8c7
42d2241a0a93dcd56b8bc4b297bf7617fbd40c61
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTLD' 'sip-files00110.txt'
23c11f2d666521516391c0c7354d0e3a
02f9b6d610572d88fc7ab298746c4d619235a022
describe
'10018' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTLE' 'sip-files00110thm.jpg'
6722ba53d89dae86627caec017121159
d861d62dfc9f2ff299a09c473a30eb3c075ec4fd
'2011-11-14T22:55:26-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTLF' 'sip-files00111.jp2'
ce7d8ef7f66882d611ef1290c000f4a8
4288b857ae24a3d1c09f1d415a00f9944f3b410e
describe
'82791' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTLG' 'sip-files00111.jpg'
26356f2387c48a6bad41eaf88d5ad00b
eb29f0bca2aa76219537f34dccdbeb73ae4fa1f4
describe
'33209' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTLH' 'sip-files00111.pro'
d35d521b8172396c78fea77012176c4d
1c868dd056b260261701095474f1879b51d04480
describe
'30543' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTLI' 'sip-files00111.QC.jpg'
12e531a06c55c8c96cac81c393a0aa8f
9d9a940d831bf332236da08daeb1b53eb562e770
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTLJ' 'sip-files00111.tif'
484f6d993598c313c3575c40676273ca
0496c094c7c49e1f09e9d03c49bcc522e7954b82
'2011-11-14T22:56:12-05:00'
describe
'1341' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTLK' 'sip-files00111.txt'
eda1f5eade048736444526620e4743aa
47bba78a5f3eec661dd0ebda1ba647419bf2030a
describe
'9372' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTLL' 'sip-files00111thm.jpg'
6259f32a533420b67dcc1e9ebd5a8176
00133f5d1ec5a403254918eb7355968235b81be4
describe
'1045375' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTLM' 'sip-files00112.jp2'
f47932345a9388ec99790bf0f3df573d
65b85b23f1faf04f8a62976ccd37173f24639186
describe
'84905' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTLN' 'sip-files00112.jpg'
73d14dc6732ead873297fe493362443e
ecfc4568d8ab8b285bb3957da992fc1216f2c1fc
describe
'34238' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTLO' 'sip-files00112.pro'
e154b2815c44842a1a1b901859412a66
613e9eccab4fe94562871b22153f7364981571ca
describe
'30914' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTLP' 'sip-files00112.QC.jpg'
1053d7c182a19208d8d6fd7f22c495ab
ca7b1613728ab1d32bb55ad0fc6d3e898968f179
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTLQ' 'sip-files00112.tif'
988cc313a031d8d115335227ae8105c8
0319aa25222d892943cc89c08350fbc184c973f8
describe
'1370' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTLR' 'sip-files00112.txt'
460192279abc28c099cba8cbd40a7e4b
3a13140b897952b67acfee42490cb347ff330138
describe
'9249' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTLS' 'sip-files00112thm.jpg'
f9de0f5055de73238369b25187891980
92700481fd8038b1793dcff6037fd710a9c43c87
describe
'1081270' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTLT' 'sip-files00113.jp2'
3f3cfe487abf1bcb70c1fddb0921a57f
02c47f313dee0b4107ccad6709e597607e692999
describe
'86171' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTLU' 'sip-files00113.jpg'
e7447d44575146e3ab6d6aae5e8dc2d2
71612f70e483ac43ec62d15a50acc66ad892c895
describe
'34346' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTLV' 'sip-files00113.pro'
b5e8907f6a60d5366ff0698540bdd3c6
aa6a6b72601bbb8dac0be430e04edb1d592c1384
describe
'31920' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTLW' 'sip-files00113.QC.jpg'
cab4a77cad414d8be0e3ad35728bf503
7b1865c2e74a29c8a63548a0dc3440cc2fd98417
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTLX' 'sip-files00113.tif'
0671b2826b98e32dc3466c32b119185f
5101f8eef21960f4f4e9b75668345f6360bf1915
'2011-11-14T23:00:48-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTLY' 'sip-files00113.txt'
951de60a4fa54a9e42092142897d3f63
29b8d965866f25e575b6c1be1f9bd09c00ced98b
describe
'9628' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTLZ' 'sip-files00113thm.jpg'
251c2ccd6dd66c52bbd75918f7d1564d
93d313c1ad6390d7d10434f9f83be5af97429439
describe
'1045382' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTMA' 'sip-files00114.jp2'
7dbdd8c14eefa86dc8517cacbd385f08
8461b678b35f02bab9c1f9101eb8f90f3824be0a
describe
'83714' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTMB' 'sip-files00114.jpg'
79238fb23cbe78231acb10426d78c501
9448489c220b90c4d9c93a48da7062dffec80801
'2011-11-14T22:56:00-05:00'
describe
'32403' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTMC' 'sip-files00114.pro'
b27fe73e790b91973ecebcc46c31bd03
a0f2b2c8e3c97268bba477a9f8f222d9c605ae1c
describe
'31232' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTMD' 'sip-files00114.QC.jpg'
8fe1bd5859a093d6757a7ec579ed28f3
108f53c457df6a26aa36c9dbbfa8740e272ca33e
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTME' 'sip-files00114.tif'
7e66cb41ba8157d99d884e5cee8b1aca
507a3842cb121ddbd94d9e591200869eff4a2d8a
'2011-11-14T22:58:07-05:00'
describe
'1312' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTMF' 'sip-files00114.txt'
1d2f73bbd33eb142359d14a68d2132ef
d4006800a5e461b9dde5969b4062cc6a5ee43289
describe
'9273' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTMG' 'sip-files00114thm.jpg'
41793e5efc24849baa195930b09e2bf4
f3d896fe24a2b3a0c224044192a44d57c72caf82
describe
'1081267' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTMH' 'sip-files00115.jp2'
1c19e6c685abe82a10eb2dccc1935d1f
44e716852bca00d7c90ea7de49b3dd41216f56bc
'2011-11-14T23:01:42-05:00'
describe
'78533' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTMI' 'sip-files00115.jpg'
edbb71bdc8d63754eb639a1bb7af6bd8
a3aec3d1033398602e7b90b26da710604367b8f6
describe
'32090' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTMJ' 'sip-files00115.pro'
54488d5c9598043482c514970546089f
9ce580606f27465e13fab170ae35acd3297ee845
describe
'28801' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTMK' 'sip-files00115.QC.jpg'
5adff374e5878549385eab2fb836e764
50d5de0d98d4e23d7af143854fdb076e1add89a9
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTML' 'sip-files00115.tif'
4943a39958afe5039c33b678b91464a6
97411fbe221ab40d4ba8b8378d452292234d4271
'2011-11-14T22:56:43-05:00'
describe
'1305' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTMM' 'sip-files00115.txt'
adf3e2ea9d56c8ec972e82dd8d0f3c8a
a56a33c6d40e142cbd7dff848cf5103db86fd4c0
describe
'8894' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTMN' 'sip-files00115thm.jpg'
8dfa8a986bbc76a18e503da12eb134e8
4eb534eabedcbbd237d9251f89cde85f99774d0d
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTMO' 'sip-files00116.jp2'
3e360d212b3f6c361e5f8fff2d53f0a3
9dcfb968f2190f2ccbfde3e3aad9811fc9708e73
describe
'84602' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTMP' 'sip-files00116.jpg'
971592fe7aa3a18db71da5be5fd6889c
eb2730519846925e4731e5aae09de130050ed487
describe
'32601' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTMQ' 'sip-files00116.pro'
fba934eee9db6ebaa868b6273029df2b
db223ba5386daf270335c9f5668dfaa6b736dc05
'2011-11-14T22:57:17-05:00'
describe
'30856' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTMR' 'sip-files00116.QC.jpg'
ca5b2415cc15e66412c8d47d810e767b
7f8a79017dc1c667ea2b5e37c797b57ea3433e39
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTMS' 'sip-files00116.tif'
7100dcdea1d9125509ce88e695bf2bca
f29d4c00a969edd1c235d4564f170992d5c39491
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTMT' 'sip-files00116.txt'
66b15ef5688edf26a8277c446b238d04
dd2ad83a62d43035426e4dfd2ce587eb5138d807
describe
'9496' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTMU' 'sip-files00116thm.jpg'
56a439e776c770394326e0b11c702b9b
8428fcab53c65e614f609b3fb47cb451bf09111a
'2011-11-14T22:57:51-05:00'
describe
'1081304' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTMV' 'sip-files00117.jp2'
8398c6329dee0b7c1f9cd24683087086
83d07416914fee2a85da7bee21c8bae74cfc4785
describe
'87055' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTMW' 'sip-files00117.jpg'
f9ae1e85927a33a96a8b3125f5ca5750
5301fbd036aa433765b2654a86e2279c692db274
describe
'35439' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTMX' 'sip-files00117.pro'
44146899b77db655706336e1b1e8bbbd
733564a067f8e9cb15d659921995c89b3281ee78
describe
'9346' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTMY' 'sip-filesBack.pro'
5ae5bc32b2cb182aaa1cc09bc689029d
83937f172ca992755f7b41220f64b7676f4de207
describe
'31835' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTMZ' 'sip-files00117.QC.jpg'
96979ff7c3560f0578793f45fb203fa6
e6eb78ef70bc0a0d4507ba6d0067412bb1a4b38f
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTNA' 'sip-files00117.tif'
f4ecbffec992c4f2fbcbf90708f2b5b4
976e965fe42562d4ffe14ff42875e62cbdb5e746
'2011-11-14T23:00:28-05:00'
describe
'1420' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTNB' 'sip-files00117.txt'
85fbc6983cb2cc9b72a9a37c5c1689bf
8a887e3ba533dda54d6da2393971ddd96fec4cca
describe
'9422' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTNC' 'sip-files00117thm.jpg'
9cfbef2e7ced334ef42b7f6bfe904ab9
b2a89be6503e00e4a5f501694fca1abf03619aa6
describe
'1045251' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTND' 'sip-files00118.jp2'
0dea89da54875fd01149314c57827cac
ec68ae2695b28b9bbd594683882e6c27da0fd30e
describe
'85236' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTNE' 'sip-files00118.jpg'
9cd6df785507cef16770a90f680e4921
231a43c4d556d70ce0fc0cc92e65cf5226e34faf
describe
'33582' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTNF' 'sip-files00118.pro'
cc371bd2c16e1a198480ed87fa5805e1
4ec881b14c8e8b8a2978bf824618ede94d7d7d46
'2011-11-14T22:58:33-05:00'
describe
'31129' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTNG' 'sip-files00118.QC.jpg'
dc1b24cb983565a074bb627320d3b2a2
04a8ff8fbbedf8a131caee0964d0a867f1510429
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTNH' 'sip-files00118.tif'
fd836e2781d249f4409b932e9ad372e5
32221b2145ca1c7c747b6807e4f60c57b21f80c5
'2011-11-14T22:57:06-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTNI' 'sip-files00118.txt'
0f6f8637e4e88dbdf26663ee2a1c7928
e8d3f7375c0bb7c74716fd78ee3a98939b448045
describe
'9297' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTNJ' 'sip-files00118thm.jpg'
e5fcb27eab8205ed9ff10d9f9ade8a62
978cde5bd8b442c0e0ec22c53cc4142cbdb9a04f
describe
'1081137' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTNK' 'sip-files00119.jp2'
95010d38fe62a55e42e20bc265c57907
f112f1a44296a3e572df8a2b84f3d3b5535345fb
describe
'80886' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTNL' 'sip-files00119.jpg'
0a13d7bb16aefa43e318482a37b3ea01
9438f857521aef73756129210b93b96434db3b16
describe
'32717' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTNM' 'sip-files00119.pro'
44b8302a88042a9871b0be05d8f06262
21a12b8bc4e316a97cca456ff67ee7cf76c40e71
describe
'30168' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTNN' 'sip-files00119.QC.jpg'
1baf29430a4c175a1a332ba2a1e869f6
e5c1f902696120beb55a4f993fed1f7a320df9da
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTNO' 'sip-files00119.tif'
ca7473a9f7c82258d37a01e0533eacd1
98c498573be4d367cf9f818dacfeb331722d28f9
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTNP' 'sip-files00119.txt'
ec46abd0298fdbece4078f3f765ac8a8
79a960d5dfa60f3a211f9b3f57c0e068bf5a2766
describe
'8993' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTNQ' 'sip-files00119thm.jpg'
b54fb75a192d784b68d130c8a3a350df
9edc77757b122d931677cdf76e9f9f8861cf9bea
describe
'1045341' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTNR' 'sip-files00120.jp2'
1227d1bb345755a3bb5d4a910a978771
928ae65403491f4929b0305e82931bff04b989d0
describe
'80728' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTNS' 'sip-files00120.jpg'
d05bd78f55563ad1eab9bf1e1a4294e8
c4e1ebb214e453e1397e5e7ba52c00f968ae3aa8
describe
'31547' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTNT' 'sip-files00120.pro'
b2b9565007ea050e2595f8bb7fe8f6dd
13ca1f816fb989fc7858b3f84ce43337c713d274
describe
'29800' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTNU' 'sip-files00120.QC.jpg'
64a94133e3f7154c47332a44560f8ff3
6494d1f3cbdfdc6a87cebff55f8229aca7b80e98
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTNV' 'sip-files00120.tif'
4be0d659a3cf867df9efe25de3f143de
b91dba9dea3cd6c8e67d03f400c5d30f51b97924
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTNW' 'sip-files00120.txt'
1c23d49c0c24c21a37b7eabae7c34f3b
bb7c11bfc06b03ab0de9633353a267a812d61f18
describe
'9261' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTNX' 'sip-files00120thm.jpg'
3505797a8c17b9206751415901512944
a500827c591525155085e2e6f1c2e8ce054999be
describe
'1081211' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTNY' 'sip-files00121.jp2'
d17e14bcc83f42b4913070cac7d2bd69
b7709b5f95210ef8885ac91337f2e08ae2dc1ad2
describe
'86456' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTNZ' 'sip-files00121.jpg'
9c3b02768c01152003ef040cc39d99a4
5c6b0e58a5efcb55294017bcd4385aa4cedd1dde
describe
'34752' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTOA' 'sip-files00121.pro'
65173d119d8f8b1638dd672cde6f7978
66e63f04e5dad053618609d271bfed749654d940
describe
'31346' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTOB' 'sip-files00121.QC.jpg'
793f3b3b7ab4e3598cb81d07981ed761
7607a6281f11aedb6297e7269b1ad1a2d879a274
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTOC' 'sip-files00121.tif'
29db5db7a57ccb73211ad28f6bb0b63f
10b79a057bc0fa879e950cf5439e90b541c7f6f3
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTOD' 'sip-files00121.txt'
5c00f516ebf20bd37a6abafaef576f2a
4fa43bdf67f42a09269ac1d1a76c5ef826b10dbe
describe
'9433' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTOE' 'sip-files00121thm.jpg'
6f22a4f12d4aa485ebdea7d96359611d
44d84e7a8e003e1e4c6ce3d57a1e60bce3851ce8
describe
'1045385' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTOF' 'sip-files00122.jp2'
74bef6f065e05477175cef023e0cc64f
88c794adaacecc7317f7bb25c3be26bec98bd6bd
describe
'82897' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTOG' 'sip-files00122.jpg'
f8f9c2cbc958b11aff4fc90e64c26277
149c2fa216c43deaa616b381bde621ac36c58c2c
describe
'32122' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTOH' 'sip-files00122.pro'
ec98b71181aeba5bd8e2d347e8cfbeac
b13f6cda41039ae8d64ceb4e8c19cf44677d5271
describe
'30912' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTOI' 'sip-files00122.QC.jpg'
e9317a56e089a07734e4114188b8b803
729e3b43802d5d3a53db195a761ab9ef475fb0cb
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTOJ' 'sip-files00122.tif'
cb6b7bb4bdd3de794ffc006bec0ff5c5
966433e028ce6e7a07a11249ab0523be7553e967
'2011-11-14T22:56:23-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTOK' 'sip-files00122.txt'
531cf444a0b5815dde953063e019745c
3821da137f91286ebbe7993666b2c520be12ff27
describe
'9224' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTOL' 'sip-files00122thm.jpg'
569675e0d746119d8ccae05487bdb78c
c1ef1d92daed4ce3648cea0d7cc8af2505f2cc91
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTOM' 'sip-files00123.jp2'
92952939e2f2903aca6e004e7b49f473
b1680d3636526b7ec394fc1106133a8ebcac899c
describe
'82921' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTON' 'sip-files00123.jpg'
91b9887771c8e20b180a428f868aba89
e75ffba067eed840bc0e4c73a08253ce96c2f867
describe
'33000' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTOO' 'sip-files00123.pro'
f7186bf517b5274228b2338afb05dabe
be3d88855300dec510f538dea449961f42ad0c6f
describe
'30176' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTOP' 'sip-files00123.QC.jpg'
8847a7cb843d21b350488610c4d733a3
8f45d9596ddeac916723ce86258dba0bc849f4d6
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTOQ' 'sip-files00123.tif'
2b708c7e1cc87cc38a26282e11c7223d
dbd8e977ac484cbffd95fd1cb658c484e2104c7d
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTOR' 'sip-files00123.txt'
3a7a23ae6ed80ef4f66370a1ed166291
790cc14b6e136f1412568f0dcc19740d311957b9
describe
'9150' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTOS' 'sip-files00123thm.jpg'
142c192191fd76cad7116b0cd3fb8b6f
4aa8e7e2a6d12a92d86520f2b4ea9811700d3970
'2011-11-14T22:57:37-05:00'
describe
'1045373' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTOT' 'sip-files00124.jp2'
68dcdbe7544ee2e7761631e8005cf892
d2c12a57277eb3a10960eba6a72ceb20d4146bf0
describe
'80821' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTOU' 'sip-files00124.jpg'
cad2c5bbbfac0a44f014cfae9ce8b232
c8fe022578d0a2dda29a8b47eaaa69aa95e61e45
'2011-11-14T22:55:21-05:00'
describe
'30925' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTOV' 'sip-files00124.pro'
62aad61d6f493273e6b49768d2f48abd
52e3a5ea2d7edf1f935f189812dd2aee34577a59
describe
'29231' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTOW' 'sip-files00124.QC.jpg'
4b88d19d611e475c2306ebec78abaea4
c1d76ebc3cd1551349bea74e7df55b4368245c1e
'2011-11-14T23:00:36-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTOX' 'sip-files00124.tif'
b3d4d015901110f3655d4bbb327a6a5b
bc30716768c67dba31e16df92a387d99185a0563
'2011-11-14T22:59:20-05:00'
describe
'1244' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTOY' 'sip-files00124.txt'
eab644ae59db0fe9f602ec2f704f50af
10cd6107c9e1f8d8f0bdff6ec8348d2bcc4f750e
describe
'9134' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTOZ' 'sip-files00124thm.jpg'
e49f8f6c6093c4aac538dd794be50c82
0893caa8b58fe4e411972488fbb23e73fd224ab3
describe
'1081313' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTPA' 'sip-files00125.jp2'
44541f5576d30f47660a1c8e23483c4a
42f1150fcf7b315c8e2aeafe5dc8d819e80789ac
describe
'77472' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTPB' 'sip-files00125.jpg'
9612216f03c9de00b3064300f7193c3b
3950286557e20b80df366058ed601afd7653eaf8
describe
'30797' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTPC' 'sip-files00125.pro'
9b85e19130deb49c2cb189bd13027775
91debbbc29fcf078ba83ba0351241e4ef956e123
describe
'27692' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTPD' 'sip-files00125.QC.jpg'
fb1d2bb8eeef0a0b571aeaad0d19596f
7e81f84121f7c7591d96f25bdece2f72d60393d8
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTPE' 'sip-files00125.tif'
7dec6eb99aaad750a601c34615a50fee
7c76aa5a5aa62fc7716dd3349ec0fbe60c8798f7
describe
'1234' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTPF' 'sip-files00125.txt'
68f9c12e4d1f00de50485a169a2c342a
ff255592760657ec5c613e2f9da0fd3b571300d6
describe
'8534' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTPG' 'sip-files00125thm.jpg'
74b258c2e9b5be67f1f893138fb90cf6
eb29b898bdeaea84fa19d02b434aaa6063da129b
describe
'1045367' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTPH' 'sip-files00126.jp2'
2f3c2438a36b3c04a1fb714e40a465f6
0db0b63f8ec86488deeb95b861356d485870365b
describe
'84012' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTPI' 'sip-files00126.jpg'
255fa2d94ffe59dc9f5b0e4599932966
4e398dfbee7eaaca702dac49ac1d7d00cd97cbf5
describe
'33857' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTPJ' 'sip-files00126.pro'
7cfcbad0e69282edd74b40e2a2cc8d8b
fe9d3178c40b821f20e39509a83ef90fd506afcf
describe
'30663' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTPK' 'sip-files00126.QC.jpg'
dfbdf3419559deca82dd61a525a61da0
5820bbe1a147d7460e598cc4d1738dfabe866796
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTPL' 'sip-files00126.tif'
6c6d85c1ce541519716da2ec103ccdd9
15ba09185e306315d117e584de0b9063c46389e4
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTPM' 'sip-files00126.txt'
3e12d23a702574b15c56d75f48e5272f
2fe15a0b5a8dc7cad1f73337341fd50e8dfaf770
describe
'9079' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTPN' 'sip-files00126thm.jpg'
47ac36eec37eb6db6afc39149c85411e
f92fa1a7d945d9af3850dc4dce2bbd2adc9803f7
describe
'1081311' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTPO' 'sip-files00127.jp2'
b4f80df708c9854e8a53b3becdcc2a6a
2c8a95e6ea0a0349b69225788fe9e03753c5aeb8
describe
'79783' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTPP' 'sip-files00127.jpg'
a79dd2c6ba5b6cbc54bfa090c6f8cde4
eaff563c8c2602b5c8e2cbdbeef3d7fe2e614a43
describe
'31560' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTPQ' 'sip-files00127.pro'
d25545359ee862f427c8ba8190a626ad
cd7417406f133ea644ab5a129338f41bb989ff72
describe
'28895' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTPR' 'sip-files00127.QC.jpg'
a29c910426833b6ebdc2863c0852b838
b911e08d0a4eb93536c24d12505ef7629c018426
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTPS' 'sip-files00127.tif'
965906cdcea4830ccb3c6e15d3c09b33
79b0ec18ccff4b878eb5e277c1a9168743b277eb
'2011-11-14T22:56:04-05:00'
describe
'1262' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTPT' 'sip-files00127.txt'
f234cf437459dfcab8708a3eb1373ca6
de23035d159f1d4ac700403089ed8d925eca4124
describe
'8854' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTPU' 'sip-files00127thm.jpg'
21c2469ecdf118cf6f410a1b6c2f0195
44bcf7fe546368b5cd11d3815719e25f5a319661
describe
'1045279' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTPV' 'sip-files00128.jp2'
305c17f5836b744e15d2411c328dbbf8
f61ee23ab6d22cd57e6196ca11793321a51314e8
describe
'84057' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTPW' 'sip-files00128.jpg'
856e0a8c5160bca262c8ee7b4147c377
4114eb5a0609ad8dbe2639312281178bc3126564
describe
'33202' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTPX' 'sip-files00128.pro'
17e1da639118edb124245eb47d145cbd
cb6971c12891eaed5b3c922ff4e0ca4baac6e290
describe
'30662' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTPY' 'sip-files00128.QC.jpg'
02eb0fbc3b93026dc8f05b0175b2fef6
9bd30312c3ad3424b9b7b73ead490fba13a777fd
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTPZ' 'sip-files00128.tif'
e1ecc7fca8912ae55d720b7a1c876e0d
32aae30617e04d890764515d4c59a17d71023abb
describe
'1395' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTQA' 'sip-files00128.txt'
5d7818ba3a71cfe7483e7149761f4571
3ca66b10aa8570a9368a4e875f74ac641155dd56
describe
'9369' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTQB' 'sip-files00128thm.jpg'
166573a332864ee68f3bd9d90606e6b9
fd5c0906467ddc9ba3b2fa5b966229667d99e5f6
describe
'1081278' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTQC' 'sip-files00129.jp2'
2ccc9727699bdd9465a8756177229130
34003919e4aaa5d12ac73ca71005f1d7305fb654
describe
'81031' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTQD' 'sip-files00129.jpg'
f10e203d092c0aca2ce35bbbae2b802b
4461a456c12bcd74f626ef088384ba73402d63a9
describe
'32756' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTQE' 'sip-files00129.pro'
9059c45afbcf9b236126c177428bcf77
0eeebd959cf819d1b9f56d1bd6973a7ce02d3966
describe
'29598' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTQF' 'sip-files00129.QC.jpg'
63605fa71c5a44c325dff450bd2436e9
07227b912b7c3051ac55dc9c49c9ee656940e568
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTQG' 'sip-files00129.tif'
c2fb872863d67f261b5f4f1df4f35a96
54dda9ba515b64bd32a28ec17549b979505f7e89
describe
'1313' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTQH' 'sip-files00129.txt'
7f13fbf4dad6c5f8c9df9f0488086c46
13c6ba578ca6b05aef07b5ef49addd91a62eae9c
describe
'8602' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTQI' 'sip-files00129thm.jpg'
73eb9f3f67ccafef6439b11bdb8992f6
0da7702b46f3b30749fd05e97ea3e7ee003dc8dd
describe
'1045345' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTQJ' 'sip-files00130.jp2'
5a889dee1a9a0f65d46de37256ec7e98
6e5fd131cf12b38f486cb45c3b5613ac1f9cc88b
describe
'81003' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTQK' 'sip-files00130.jpg'
0708d11ca97ed32df377159f91a545b2
1f79ca9ab61127a786eb5ae0c179fbc184619e59
describe
'31576' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTQL' 'sip-files00130.pro'
54f432116b5fe83d15010bc2ceac717c
4ad473708e87c7c8e095990eaa3f2d2ba978037e
describe
'28613' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTQM' 'sip-files00130.QC.jpg'
d254b4928157b462e4eb257541bc533e
34b8e15da681cc89592e25d1b0fdca7ab904810d
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTQN' 'sip-files00130.tif'
93953dee81807dffdb642e1022331b01
9c48afbe3582ef7ef7709b894588e0f7be1aa914
describe
'1303' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTQO' 'sip-files00130.txt'
1bb6c11e3537fa9fcf8009756df4cfce
f91a2f7cac0eee98ff85065a2848dc9d978f0bc4
describe
'8709' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTQP' 'sip-files00130thm.jpg'
5260f18d715bd0561c527347cfef387d
b94dc4f4478bb0caa8ba98745a54673d7b51b0a1
describe
'1081306' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTQQ' 'sip-files00131.jp2'
362d3ddb32b66cee9a59fd9036da85ea
8b392e97cab36e55f722d620ddea5af0616a3d75
describe
'81155' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTQR' 'sip-files00131.jpg'
2b23a84ed8c51778cb45ea68aa35b631
64f874cd0d93ba5f2729606327138aa506125d5c
describe
'32057' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTQS' 'sip-files00131.pro'
c6384452e84b439809ba03f8ecd3cced
0cfd98a0767d161763e0967e90a0469117e18546
'2011-11-14T23:01:31-05:00'
describe
'29702' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTQT' 'sip-files00131.QC.jpg'
31076cc45370c17467ef3a68b1d3f97d
b8c33aeb330b15e511da7b2b5fb626f0a421b274
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTQU' 'sip-files00131.tif'
0502bb1083f33118881ba3e83d92da07
bf2115c9802d9c457633b9a576795499e8dcabea
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTQV' 'sip-files00131.txt'
8f68682fc6d432aaf9a46669355340a8
1239b4f1cbae509fc704ef47415a8001d3f7d9ed
describe
'9271' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTQW' 'sip-files00131thm.jpg'
3abe606d339c9190ef7d9491d451c6ce
f8ce571c7e24fcf3a23fb6924adc091ec007c830
describe
'749391' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTQX' 'sip-files00132.jp2'
7cfc079148ea9b02a60a0338b4646fa4
ddc05d60b51f1b9bd8f48fe42447a4ed5253f948
describe
'31306' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTQY' 'sip-files00132.jpg'
91a001b2213a5e5025ec6c9f493e7a41
f229344e64e600a3c75b1fc24048523fdb323f53
describe
'8032' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTQZ' 'sip-files00132.pro'
985e590eb86b6eded6caf577b6ae5fbd
2cb795998665131ee4b47136de12edf8f5c74cef
describe
'10633' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTRA' 'sip-files00132.QC.jpg'
0711afa08c68719fe2f5f070821ccdbb
0964c3bd018eb3ab87072dbeb1ef6e0503e696b0
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTRB' 'sip-files00132.tif'
6b324922b1aa9127377c82e4fcd4459b
4932c91d309e0a3d3b59dad54561ba6697e7cb48
'2011-11-14T22:58:25-05:00'
describe
'330' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTRC' 'sip-files00132.txt'
3baa9ad4b528de6e7defa9944c67f6db
8a15f8e11c2a047b9f3b10df7dbc055942db53b6
describe
'3666' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTRD' 'sip-files00132thm.jpg'
c06eaf5a88a9eab7da2fb8b8ec746309
a08d815c8230108bfc7adccb4953f8b2599ece02
describe
'875649' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTRE' 'sip-files00133.jp2'
4c71f5b45a8121e287bd3a520faa322b
9765d858cf2d2f9444ce2e6d4b56e21413dc1ae8
describe
'49077' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTRF' 'sip-files00133.jpg'
e0bd26a20680fb0bdb62f85a9838a281
79701d2f114444cd165e13f76eb87fc4582484cb
describe
'16459' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTRG' 'sip-files00133.pro'
f792b793cd7c14628b2dbd524cfa2667
21078dc6cb4a236d3f74b0a9d27b5046f1950aef
describe
'17033' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTRH' 'sip-files00133.QC.jpg'
fde67e15ace206f16b5e09bc8c1f6cdc
b9bf7f97e386db1907a9461c81b7c6f0001497c9
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTRI' 'sip-files00133.tif'
406264ccd82f5eb46fe98259dd5cc57b
d4524cdf699d02e92ea64f5da5d472ce3b3adafd
describe
'685' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTRJ' 'sip-files00133.txt'
a2007b466ab67f4c5f3e9fffe2b02928
c6b9905af6ec661d2eda78a3c0bae28f71723519
describe
'5710' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTRK' 'sip-files00133thm.jpg'
65928bc62cb28ab56ca41e3c7af780b1
e9b5f01b6353552731dde77f6a300c9236c36020
describe
'1045400' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTRL' 'sip-files00134.jp2'
cf1de461ec2e6bfc818d628d6b5efba6
db18c6ad6ad029623cf0e5ef99d42914d24f7f33
describe
'82667' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTRM' 'sip-files00134.jpg'
54076a4a01b8a0c450d193738721cbbf
711bd9139da7fb9dcad294d1c0c66100ec0dae42
describe
'31981' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTRN' 'sip-files00134.pro'
5ac4688861c79fc874ef62ebca894b7b
e15ef224a5d724089702cdaa6bcead8b71ca8d4d
describe
'30113' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTRO' 'sip-files00134.QC.jpg'
4b3c8b0a3c437617690287deadb2048c
2287060e58d3ce8007a9b98482bb645de7893a75
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTRP' 'sip-files00134.tif'
1211f28b95ccdf41d42efca405544a6f
9420259c06f0a8eaf31a1239fa192111cae528b0
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTRQ' 'sip-files00134.txt'
5f6267db42fb7e9fbdaee8db0df831a6
6a96bf16770af0a4a0aef0e13847aa3ece8a1483
describe
'9205' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTRR' 'sip-files00134thm.jpg'
f80c5d6974802b36eb5f1966b6240236
14cd6f8d829c178fc9cad43951c57c17e2ea5a5d
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTRS' 'sip-files00135.jp2'
a57e45e9b543ded654f433bd92e1f023
d026ac8f816df7ac655db378d38140874594563d
describe
'87418' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTRT' 'sip-files00135.jpg'
893df263b675f5e04a6a15f02e849a5e
02b85aac036aeadd021af7d90b191288ea44a997
'2011-11-14T22:58:02-05:00'
describe
'34896' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTRU' 'sip-files00135.pro'
c48d66995d72d3f6dffa09d93b70062d
f13ba8f97723cd2932bf533403714d20816e2d1d
describe
'32171' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTRV' 'sip-files00135.QC.jpg'
1b197a79a44060107990bc2718656cb7
4757669c3d728d481e7d809574ac07e2da12ceb4
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTRW' 'sip-files00135.tif'
26b99831e2432135a6770b643bcdffbb
65109331c3f3c0dc310eb543a654120a7e1e865e
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTRX' 'sip-files00135.txt'
671192315ef2816bbf350666252d3dbf
8f56ea42538f992c3b90ed11cf88f4c730e5a669
describe
'9509' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTRY' 'sip-files00135thm.jpg'
0e220586030be1e36cac99d7ed317ccd
c41ba4400e769bc7a91a5b56d5df6805421b6670
describe
'1045275' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTRZ' 'sip-files00136.jp2'
192ce4aeafe1952c3d56e3c4e76c27c1
c72dd055f1867a1fe18d1b6477a18a3125570ce5
describe
'82340' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTSA' 'sip-files00136.jpg'
7cc041c693cc6ad54d1d2bb9e0b78b15
d6fd1b16fb4f6eef807dd8324c150320477bc34a
describe
'31629' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTSB' 'sip-files00136.pro'
d5c454a730398b931addb3b582b53384
968f3c337e29e0ea4e06f28253f6a773c5001ada
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTSC' 'sip-files00136.QC.jpg'
bfcb2d21d61364c79c738eb8f63c72e0
8672bba4d38e60430eeb3f18b62c358d10144b73
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTSD' 'sip-files00136.tif'
6bec8221d13720b3ff8821238d3cff61
ee45f34e235bbd325f0bf9d55277119b862e6216
describe
'1266' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTSE' 'sip-files00136.txt'
37647486fba6529e28fa5d94df7cc2fa
174454809708e0e46d5aa665be8506dd66de5f66
describe
'9218' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTSF' 'sip-files00136thm.jpg'
69b7c71f1ed1b7185d72446309124520
228bc965efd57e45afb2db8f4f9152192b9a2bff
describe
'1068334' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTSG' 'sip-files00137.jp2'
1e800bc2d1b292892b43178731da479b
f62664a888120c0a839403fa7e680deb6aebfa78
describe
'74013' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTSH' 'sip-files00137.jpg'
571756328fde0bdf96e20dd9af50d6f7
a103e4becd7654af16c7b515b865790ecc3625d6
'2011-11-14T22:59:19-05:00'
describe
'29363' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTSI' 'sip-files00137.pro'
01648ef9220c4388734ff40fbfbfa893
c0bcca31fbddace7b49fcb7ee4e20b04e9c7cea1
describe
'26742' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTSJ' 'sip-files00137.QC.jpg'
b9a86f43c2f85c95a84c630095651ee9
cf38de23bde628df7e90b0066b88521b4bf7cfc8
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTSK' 'sip-files00137.tif'
7e6ba4d9dd891cbc29b3d4e7acf8a2ef
ba10a5ae1992584077782fdc46d707fea5a85c0e
describe
'1185' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTSL' 'sip-files00137.txt'
f0062b6e5d4e87eb59597e189f263c0f
d4ce1d3ee045f91d2ac52c5c29529f316883a999
describe
'8331' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTSM' 'sip-files00137thm.jpg'
3326791a3da098d2402215db8964f82c
28a4bcc701b4c610f50f87eed7d452edc011b8d9
describe
'1045301' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTSN' 'sip-files00138.jp2'
fbaee932985a5da73ff284ad6dc490ce
083b6cc4562c95d0cb7f31d849926dec2939bbc2
describe
'85370' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTSO' 'sip-files00138.jpg'
a2cd29f129d332e7ea7a10baba511081
7ce9a7216a7684a7caddf2fd7b3d18cd4fe2be88
describe
'33739' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTSP' 'sip-files00138.pro'
ba652044119249200110e0f973a266a8
4b8e5192f19cf85da4bea9b0c62497d94610986b
describe
'31762' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTSQ' 'sip-files00138.QC.jpg'
6a61bafccbaccf3d97a1765a63a1bdd9
a48745a0c001eef88ecc226e08333bd5f0e365b7
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTSR' 'sip-files00138.tif'
9fc993cda2972304338ccba05a95d643
05b1d52ef33512a87ca3703c638af4ed467e6d39
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTSS' 'sip-files00138.txt'
297f741aefe6c57764be89e36005662e
8364734dac8318275e783691430e03003459baaf
describe
'9508' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTST' 'sip-files00138thm.jpg'
a63617a9ca19dcea8868da078e279f9d
8348d9332a23b0d79ae59ad04314822085ada2e3
describe
'1102476' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTSU' 'sip-files00139.jp2'
f44e4b39dd7a1a380e003e5083e1af7c
d70e73ab5d5a7f884e874f9cbc745af7d3dbb2c6
describe
'83751' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTSV' 'sip-files00139.jpg'
be5a1b0f85a456ebb9d8235efe610707
f58aeac8ec0989c5703798384847d4df38591553
'2011-11-14T23:01:29-05:00'
describe
'33528' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTSW' 'sip-files00139.pro'
69bb4f338e5996d8935fc8a4f1f2c96e
97e97da4b6c38b9465a26d368571e5719295b3f8
describe
'30634' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTSX' 'sip-files00139.QC.jpg'
624323b30de18a25d253063abcd788ad
fb2db55fd5448eeb9cbdc4c85b29a12861a024e0
describe
'8830223' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTSY' 'sip-files00139.tif'
267678aed8cab0a376da334e4f7d3b80
04de70a0b525d9d33a40771a04111f0a0fc4ef96
'2011-11-14T22:59:01-05:00'
describe
'1327' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTSZ' 'sip-files00139.txt'
bd342e50b4878c182b812058e6cda99c
2f26cbce88bbd2c1f359e245271b191ccd8d1e8b
describe
'9212' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTTA' 'sip-files00139thm.jpg'
0ef8c29a69572874481e94646b40a030
aff336e7378fc3a78b26d81d5e04d2bc9790be9b
describe
'1058036' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTTB' 'sip-files00140.jp2'
9a2b62ba999846918b143d7c872ebbd7
f8dacf0fc43a481159f8c7ff85c449b1dbbf44ff
'2011-11-14T23:00:53-05:00'
describe
'86884' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTTC' 'sip-files00140.jpg'
001712fc2b3ea4e805215ea1431a5dc1
0081ebf2886dd0ec1aa678d42886873c78a02ac8
describe
'34972' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTTD' 'sip-files00140.pro'
b7673789b339b10472938b7584de2897
0814bbf041d5227e26325e6de53d7404200aba93
describe
'32283' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTTE' 'sip-files00140.QC.jpg'
b187aff6aaf846d04a05a4d3dea70167
ccf08e1f4d48124c6bcb917c22a7df1301a058e0
describe
'8475083' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTTF' 'sip-files00140.tif'
1b9146053bbffc915126ea5edf4e0f39
6ee001acfcf349ad26d4fbba866987da6878d97a
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTTG' 'sip-files00140.txt'
ae753738da8960b1413c6bcd6bd6930a
cda9e2801b101e6c948f02c69a1bba96f24e41ea
describe
'9765' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTTH' 'sip-files00140thm.jpg'
7314394d737758050fbd95ba4de65886
f2da64e3554c334793eed74e4d3cd25d9927f552
describe
'1102525' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTTI' 'sip-files00141.jp2'
fe37aafb7470f1416057c4158e39acaf
dabc49ca4dbae31589d70b1356e89fcc15d799ac
describe
'83958' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTTJ' 'sip-files00141.jpg'
d257b6bae42ad78ff6c182321142f123
83421e5a1892ed8e941b0e9674ff3ec603d3e6fd
describe
'33596' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTTK' 'sip-files00141.pro'
fad6919ffd4b59eaba32db46ffdbeeeb
fef6f46622abfb173c4ced41910de9bbdf358d58
describe
'30062' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTTL' 'sip-files00141.QC.jpg'
1724ce8ec7f071f155cbb89d047e924d
d5fdb17b48cd50d057b3e816d6df5536f1c9c59b
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTTM' 'sip-files00141.tif'
fb38ea4cb6cc3042af993b741eac8688
bea340a87c45d0ac6631c90ee9b80ec4f7b7d4f7
describe
'1332' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTTN' 'sip-files00141.txt'
cce3a985615d1f057307580ec5589793
dd9e7d05a5e937753e1b368e69b0adc07a977dd8
describe
'8830' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTTO' 'sip-files00141thm.jpg'
c627905c87e4a3abf81a5abe3f59151b
d14d811e252c7a097a377f64a87e4dff49aa3f78
describe
'1058157' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTTP' 'sip-files00142.jp2'
60fbda305c9a6d36451b79b43377e04a
8538739746009048ed5fbcfc085b73ca5fd7cf9f
describe
'86287' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTTQ' 'sip-files00142.jpg'
b91e52be38209fc8223f04068c7689c2
ee9cbc40eb5e4fe5ff003e10686e60028359f6b6
describe
'35087' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTTR' 'sip-files00142.pro'
efd97ed35e43c81cd3d0eb3366cbe79d
9dc6751c2e472fffe5d32465a56d16791133977d
describe
'31265' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTTS' 'sip-files00142.QC.jpg'
e1cb5b78b8f52194b62d8355b5e7c7d2
8f092a4bab4c5e73c23989832c0358e98c5d4fb9
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTTT' 'sip-files00142.tif'
343d45427efb5b05487b0922cdec211d
a530e4c854eddb781aac1a218ef438587c018c31
describe
'1434' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTTU' 'sip-files00142.txt'
5c817d017ea30adc2537fb877793eb86
032b19f7f6e115eb7403fe2f16c2495e3f63a343
describe
'9383' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTTV' 'sip-files00142thm.jpg'
bbf911d43f5282e8a79dfedce090f234
e97bd184ff96476363fc68cb6902355fc1e1fdc2
describe
'1044226' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTTW' 'sip-files00143.jp2'
76c1265b7315c8f3af049326c275ec7e
e13d8bf98919a20dbe86f149753f4ff2a12c6721
describe
'88355' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTTX' 'sip-files00143.jpg'
9fca925a2ddb059b93c788f72a335d6b
6ddc086d4ed7ba9166f7a7ed1aefa257e6c3657d
describe
'36224' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTTY' 'sip-files00143.pro'
62afd0039248c72dd8f9139e144c8560
aa39872e7e86bc856e84f5a52869c751dce7ba44
describe
'32070' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTTZ' 'sip-files00143.QC.jpg'
80a3597cad32482ae033d5c11d081777
198cd1782cf4c48790b9c709411dd3a352ddf618
describe
'8363669' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTUA' 'sip-files00143.tif'
97205588e46786fc3e716517ca388085
daf97a47f60cf8e4e9e18f67c5c546005cf44d5b
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTUB' 'sip-files00143.txt'
b373a97cf3dbccd138fa6a2af3e3de1d
c978f6467a627c9ad4da408fa5fe12064bf165d9
describe
'10189' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTUC' 'sip-files00143thm.jpg'
4bdaefd57078fd98da510a11055d42d5
83f0668dea494fd8578253787a161de4e3ed774a
describe
'1058174' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTUD' 'sip-files00144.jp2'
1ec0ee7ec898bea14d967873280e0f08
ef9d5d10fd92baf1259dfdaeffe5176e1b8cc339
describe
'88520' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTUE' 'sip-files00144.jpg'
337d8cd571f9cb9a3bd0d570982db384
08df58c6643e1932f8a182319333c8e3fe77af99
describe
'35001' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTUF' 'sip-files00144.pro'
70684c4cd1c5c1ea25e8efb318d76e89
5ca124e81323ff83dc54e22ff96f840c9c254388
describe
'32725' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTUG' 'sip-files00144.QC.jpg'
252ff8cd4bf6469fdcacad69ee7544a5
0dbe148cab5ebf3d14b05761b0f4ae0e6a879ac8
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTUH' 'sip-files00144.tif'
6913dcb6dd03a837a9f7d7a18a83cb82
712918da521647ffaafb14d0bb5b45a617fd3a8d
'2011-11-14T22:59:39-05:00'
describe
'1433' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTUI' 'sip-files00144.txt'
fff897e0717d7a5ee834e8bf07e6b4d3
bb4529b7990611623525ca7abd27fa46e96998cd
'2011-11-14T22:56:53-05:00'
describe
'9696' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTUJ' 'sip-files00144thm.jpg'
277cd56cc83c56660d0e0125667f8ec9
6fdc3e9b713af614bd19ccf0a12a349b410843f2
describe
'1102513' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTUK' 'sip-files00145.jp2'
403af9c81f5a02394c16516291cef8a2
c097bfe6fe6c86e188a6271699d7db737ae762f2
describe
'90091' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTUL' 'sip-files00145.jpg'
4a1170d00e6bbe8c5f8754d3e1db5791
2b20e985db304b9a89edd1f0714a2e33fb7a0dc8
describe
'37312' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTUM' 'sip-files00145.pro'
b793091be24caf430f9d36fc49f85117
d5de00c92b135ec2b3cd96f753c95f6af4a7efa1
describe
'32781' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTUN' 'sip-files00145.QC.jpg'
e20b87ac01cb6d74d0c9d0e7c494dd69
9227366138cd992de6c10def584795d67ec91c11
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTUO' 'sip-files00145.tif'
36814bcbfdc62ed05778b7aaf1646363
271b1a4334df34627a5ad49f1e4fca430afe8ac2
describe
'1469' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTUP' 'sip-files00145.txt'
0f8708796a0c0de61ba9b1b0b9904ff1
71f27a4b88cfd4eb5ea03b328aea92a962e78264
describe
'9406' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTUQ' 'sip-files00145thm.jpg'
f8b44f31dbf7239f79db34d8a49ea31a
f281878f5c2c57e59e18b2284fffa2c2491b1b39
describe
'1058091' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTUR' 'sip-files00146.jp2'
f78bcdf1b43b2458d5e956408eebc62d
a5f7bbeaf91b5c6f3d373b58b810b94c95c57544
describe
'84870' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTUS' 'sip-files00146.jpg'
e91642e2daa8a7efb935e2b619fde5eb
580c4705885f3e9c9c33b390eb75e390aaede1be
describe
'33872' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTUT' 'sip-files00146.pro'
0a8759e7fbb033b0f470814237130d4c
2053e71efb8f13b20ac616c706b88bd7fcb0f850
describe
'31256' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTUU' 'sip-files00146.QC.jpg'
09f9e0558944fb9801c2b0e70718763f
a1c79da117143e5d068a36ed2974a0e3e8ea5d8d
describe
'27081438' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTUV' 'sip-filesBack.tif'
318c689981a504f552c0f8e0be7c255d
7b641e3c9300fe1c70ac12b789da5099216c1cc0
'2011-11-14T22:57:21-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTUW' 'sip-files00146.tif'
f820344457c1040842e6745f2e8b3cdd
19882b57c9c1c7945d7a6e7b77c2d204fff6c9af
describe
'1354' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTUX' 'sip-files00146.txt'
fa8a8c805c1fe14fd820255c192543b9
4ebc668dad112372012d957ff3bdbf74e887a981
describe
'9463' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTUY' 'sip-files00146thm.jpg'
a3f83f8057d8035dbc34c666d9060d54
f937106b1fd718fdffc2952e1cab93025effd1bf
describe
'1102426' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTUZ' 'sip-files00147.jp2'
79dc0ee517a80e7f148d27f8cc34ce19
018bc3f9c71c5e3c4f08e02e81580891825f1df0
describe
'85261' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTVA' 'sip-files00147.jpg'
2ad69d161d39a0f0b6f960796b2baef5
2ca58eab5b2d11bcbf037a1ff2f6dd94882e9f7f
describe
'33605' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTVB' 'sip-files00147.pro'
f15af7fdc84fdeef96240e94b8844c84
4663e7422450298b2db7cae33ff03d4bcb838ec6
describe
'31334' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTVC' 'sip-files00147.QC.jpg'
84284a630d12aaa6854bfb49f3ae564d
5bdf54129ecc46131f8cea4b21190c343e41e268
'2011-11-14T22:55:43-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTVD' 'sip-files00147.tif'
137bcb845fd6adb853dc345064a2deff
a635b176def56cbd911b8dc6ffbddb6b0e7aa09c
describe
'1350' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTVE' 'sip-files00147.txt'
0401eb5abd9f9c2601d8517bb6d7ca9d
70984470db6ab8830d891bb7a4badeba54b27777
describe
'9694' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTVF' 'sip-files00147thm.jpg'
ea86a270d2c83a34e27b08797ef2adcf
14d2e5e154999dbeb5b4d69a2b8b6c9d353d0ee1
'2011-11-14T23:00:33-05:00'
describe
'1058151' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTVG' 'sip-files00148.jp2'
822eed1438b5702ec2b7e9d334a92c98
7e1a6fcc46f81fa0d66f1bd79286ef6b7d4452b8
describe
'83583' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTVH' 'sip-files00148.jpg'
4e8a8fb601b3d5c5f43b05449d378836
dbeb8cd2a9e05303cd6100d2d876d979150f4605
describe
'32703' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTVI' 'sip-files00148.pro'
2e8687c392d3bac540737a4aa7ad73db
fc9a92d787a5e49cea904dadb61bde16f3ac3626
describe
'30571' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTVJ' 'sip-files00148.QC.jpg'
a3a28482f7d33932bee21b3054500646
16fda7f3cce640c959a468ea728f7bf10d9da93e
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTVK' 'sip-files00148.tif'
277eb0a2515d112744c7e9342a89329e
d2b5d31a37d12da0a6a99b22dfa316d5d183863b
'2011-11-14T23:00:39-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTVL' 'sip-files00148.txt'
41260a1bed913fa7c06f8f9577bc64a6
a0cc159aa1a77b569c63cca4c94afe6cfc9b6079
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTVM' 'sip-files00148thm.jpg'
d0d96477cfd286f47eeb64c8c5d8c962
a43f9e6c48a9f56b84a1460f62b79efbe1b7a604
describe
'1102459' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTVN' 'sip-files00149.jp2'
4c4e45e468e8104d902c185ea9f05bd9
4d0bf8df5d347f90e159ff3a153c073ed5f0336a
describe
'82871' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTVO' 'sip-files00149.jpg'
54bc7eebf63fcddc793da6c8783c7949
653edb9a47f44b68be9e4dc693ed85278a2ea07a
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTVP' 'sip-files00149.pro'
a3d269f5e5fcc9fd05a2703a22abe131
9d7ed1cb987e8bcf0d72407dd913e8b335a92e66
describe
'30485' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTVQ' 'sip-files00149.QC.jpg'
5f5e118a4a2f38a1a554b926dfb2babf
96d9165a33252cba53d7ae8e40905fadb44aaa36
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTVR' 'sip-files00149.tif'
101432187bf8ec595107ffbf835aaffd
577acd0975273bfb32d1aaba8c34564c8ec88bbf
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTVS' 'sip-files00149.txt'
dab9024c98ad4ccd6895d1ee47cc3030
a9db710551e3d6982e156252894ddb6f828db202
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTVT' 'sip-files00149thm.jpg'
d0db533c55b1712328d7d0edfcffec9b
cfc338ff3f35c441c9d712dd244b3e15b9639b9f
describe
'1058052' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTVU' 'sip-files00150.jp2'
5b70c27b313bc2083fe9da99fcc5d53f
33b8161d463f1db2d72e783edf5587720d8d0fa7
describe
'82410' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTVV' 'sip-files00150.jpg'
bbb82ca81ff6fa951e42edb9a6214e38
cdaa25e82b403cbd960e5982e4b6aae45e99de9b
describe
'32750' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTVW' 'sip-files00150.pro'
a9eaea5e4987214044f79e184084a4e6
9ba7f8e9055567fe5076c6cfc32b0c4207ca89b9
describe
'29827' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTVX' 'sip-files00150.QC.jpg'
8496dce10a29e5745d0a18e11538e829
26977d430dea18b28206cbc9c5c1af71d59c4934
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTVY' 'sip-files00150.tif'
4d9e3e1c4ff9eb6f0c7fdc443c56157c
de87d4268edd8c7717527dc58e6a8c9787a5843d
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTVZ' 'sip-files00150.txt'
982c06e4a8d7f3c692a3321216fd8516
243dc562f2b28962c907209a4c46efffb25b1c9e
'2011-11-14T23:01:34-05:00'
describe
'8956' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTWA' 'sip-files00150thm.jpg'
838dfbe4c920e46fbd36ec45ca46f4fe
a3d2edcfb20b06c57f834ba25aae6c4cb136db4d
describe
'1102492' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTWB' 'sip-files00151.jp2'
2a59a24e10f71bf68e07321a237db5bc
c4686be6c47fc57ec2aa5cb4689fba5ad1360904
describe
'87776' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTWC' 'sip-files00151.jpg'
8e7ad6d976e0541882edf172e458e17f
5c0684cc6f52a5908e68d79bf9b786e6ff9e8b19
describe
'34980' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTWD' 'sip-files00151.pro'
35bae0e3b3549ddeffac166d21d8b15b
450384d8b0405e40f4ad92b03069357d317cb5a8
describe
'32205' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTWE' 'sip-files00151.QC.jpg'
aef15818bcbe6840e65cdc96d3c14fc9
2d02fdcc7712f94c878ecfdf1490ea3bb4498d68
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTWF' 'sip-files00151.tif'
892c3cbc44ac3ca4599fd63fe63add03
e9ce14f7f994f6a624a104350de99d2592d87940
describe
'1380' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTWG' 'sip-files00151.txt'
98fc9d38c14750484ab03ad134f7eed6
3b847c8193d7cba53bd60af98622266dbee9b32b
describe
'9839' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTWH' 'sip-files00151thm.jpg'
8c35a34cd4ee7564accb939e9cbcc892
5f9347ca1dcb5a9c902d6d24b6e14c38f3941d94
describe
'1058143' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTWI' 'sip-files00152.jp2'
104bb942f760f3c09af003c6573ead7c
9f6a6a6c078b9841f12a8d41d0f1f61381894d39
describe
'86144' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTWJ' 'sip-files00152.jpg'
1d60cab13a6478703d13417aacb8a4c6
c320898ffdbd0df8b4e058dbbddb98a36bd744b6
describe
'33350' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTWK' 'sip-files00152.pro'
022836a07e3c83f10d3c7cd717d0574e
d6ca094e67f96c99d17062298a21540e99147c0a
describe
'32298' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTWL' 'sip-files00152.QC.jpg'
f07afbfd4941e0fad60872dc9c3ac180
baf85227a4da4d1949ae223c7991f887286b43d3
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTWM' 'sip-files00152.tif'
f8c8fd53d97ac9b834ab08287d882adf
1a0fcb90bb8b1367eeb2d70a9db4553bdb2c5324
describe
'1372' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTWN' 'sip-files00152.txt'
177bf9194fd0d7c252d8f80aa9a2de6c
6df76f402f68feef79a973b5ec72055ba6c724c1
describe
'9766' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTWO' 'sip-files00152thm.jpg'
bbe4e7e223b3ad7de546ba551b9695d8
95590de6acf46f18e4b4279708c8a095520122d1
describe
'1050094' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTWP' 'sip-files00153.jp2'
29c40178e9b8b9a2d92cc4b69a6093c3
69954810f72d45158b0ffd68af67dfdfbd5adddc
describe
'86360' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTWQ' 'sip-files00153.jpg'
3cdcc11f96d588ea0847d7dc99192162
82075aaf20a9530e474303434499d18b50193748
describe
'33971' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTWR' 'sip-files00153.pro'
58060969e3e390076326770514a61255
2dd16fb071f703060112169f871c991b39bcfc98
describe
'31893' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTWS' 'sip-files00153.QC.jpg'
ca175096df761568a75826682ecac14f
32d9b12789b28ffdff56e818d7cb722336b7a326
describe
'8410875' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTWT' 'sip-files00153.tif'
a49d616ed7d9b77c8f5fefd64a34fd63
c0e2c382ea726209986216f95d653f0389ba26fa
describe
'1361' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTWU' 'sip-files00153.txt'
e7f9b34ea0f2f83f9aaee04c3b939dfd
7a37d2e3ca5777a79ceaf8230827997832d31b0c
describe
'10156' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTWV' 'sip-files00153thm.jpg'
22e9bf472a3de7906bccf9c686d69d96
07db2b571cc92be3e6bc5d09dd14647a1549eb98
describe
'1058059' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTWW' 'sip-files00154.jp2'
6386d3f9592507f4501274ce3a1fc958
d40ff8fa8456a8bafc4b49a197cf769508511b10
describe
'82358' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTWX' 'sip-files00154.jpg'
f3379272333986d49fb4c0fc0008164e
92cb3c2ad6f39c21b7d9331d6244d2c14a5cff04
describe
'31720' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTWY' 'sip-files00154.pro'
8063c449c865a0f48e7a4b9833c97c0a
ab2abef43337e053a5c0d72f2765d52392dbbefe
describe
'30616' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTWZ' 'sip-files00154.QC.jpg'
6448d85d4ba268a33ede5b9bdb936d36
62dd6e7936a606902119a24e4c77a3dc196d4975
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTXA' 'sip-files00154.tif'
d0999c970660f3376e37b261fd938be4
8d9fe35d32aa3ef2dffdbbee11a27e7226d328f9
describe
'1310' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTXB' 'sip-files00154.txt'
e30adba3c27f722d50793c2ab95b299c
1ff794907cd116ed911b04cdd1204724469449f1
describe
'9315' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTXC' 'sip-files00154thm.jpg'
69f84ca7d1fb889351e77de155c303fd
c9579ccd6a3990b2e92646f633931f16d17c25f5
'2011-11-14T23:00:57-05:00'
describe
'1102499' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTXD' 'sip-files00155.jp2'
19d5675301497e14c76e5a2aee8089da
c63424a9b3c558105d9bfd261ce95524305c6f2d
describe
'87026' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTXE' 'sip-files00155.jpg'
a0ebf5e7ad0d225ae457259588ebfc1a
88afbbdeafb11d5d7257acceb19c40a2aeb73c93
describe
'34571' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTXF' 'sip-files00155.pro'
4bf71b642e3ac667d53d37e1e2659987
91d95c3475ade0e5b207518368304e5c953433d3
describe
'31782' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTXG' 'sip-files00155.QC.jpg'
cbd724e8bee809615461723ef75e177b
3961fb840b9743d9ee5015b3929e7873726750f3
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTXH' 'sip-files00155.tif'
418efdb9e784e3425809bd00aeb8b3e4
c5f20dfaad69bfb766b18e3116f960eee781d31c
describe
'1398' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTXI' 'sip-files00155.txt'
4373cf77a413158229f93db4bd280d43
f4240ac9802d229cb077b1ba2c5b4f1637b4d020
describe
'9511' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTXJ' 'sip-files00155thm.jpg'
f455e9dfaa5849cd03615bd6c885fc26
c3243b54784cf8c1e4419660ba52f9107e6ac5a7
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTXK' 'sip-files00156.jp2'
9ff069fa11fd83f1d4d1cf89ece6c811
b7b15577c2843d4a3c81182a5dc9f0afdb6e0d14
describe
'84227' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTXL' 'sip-files00156.jpg'
b17e579b7b428d4d62382d3b04ba98b3
02bfdf3d9f88eb11e59eea5c27946109d8fba4c2
describe
'32847' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTXM' 'sip-files00156.pro'
2304567f583f217f85e1d7924df3f2f4
f81caf61b8948db9ac5371b945ccacf613318fce
describe
'31031' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTXN' 'sip-files00156.QC.jpg'
889bb029ddceb0257c74c24d0b46d074
c42fcf6195cd969a8c5e5a8bea0630cb7ec21fb7
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTXO' 'sip-files00156.tif'
bd38dca144ca5f914566ee4a3b23e3a5
1d826961ce857e2c35dd6cb75e0a8fbe3e97452a
'2011-11-14T22:55:42-05:00'
describe
'1360' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTXP' 'sip-files00156.txt'
1736742222182ea3a2e20ab572eb7485
1bd07457fbdaf3b6ed7e3e9041a3c2c3bcaaa452
describe
'9537' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTXQ' 'sip-files00156thm.jpg'
1761666f30e00bba0d991e19d4842f87
8952f1e7c888cfaa54e22d50f2d2f7500eec57d2
describe
'1045541' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTXR' 'sip-files00157.jp2'
feb1063cf032e5b6a2314a47955b17d1
6ddb6bea3e766f6b0d82434aebde3ac155244fc8
describe
'83951' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTXS' 'sip-files00157.jpg'
65c2cff7edb12c60f2380fa3c1859c06
b001da1926a80b8ebce212ec67dfe5b3b1699f51
describe
'32744' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTXT' 'sip-files00157.pro'
2c92e7bb96bdf8d189c3525467b73eb6
a6bb44625d6b0a4e958c82333a84c1af89f1c40e
'2011-11-14T23:00:23-05:00'
describe
'31030' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTXU' 'sip-files00157.QC.jpg'
9c37e013482d321e6f0bf8f55a605382
36b871c02c3f47b1a45a2cf1fb7375dc70767cee
describe
'8374161' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTXV' 'sip-files00157.tif'
3b98a8d62ec868202a1c372ab598ac55
245cff8f8e1e2739e6dd913184d4574e0d4c496b
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTXW' 'sip-files00157.txt'
72b33852075f2bb25d744a73c221a1db
b7445b784f1e5c86343eb7ad5cd7111ee8a6a1ea
describe
'9779' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTXX' 'sip-files00157thm.jpg'
acf1943c19d8cb22abd75bf4551b11be
0f0a913929cfec4974d0ccd8083610d5967a5390
describe
'1058145' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTXY' 'sip-files00158.jp2'
a8c33d759f1fe7048ba5a36317310c77
c01904c826580ca4b132896161bd4a7a19e867df
describe
'84965' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTXZ' 'sip-files00158.jpg'
a3076794d24a97ad06b01f91bda0077b
577e4385ae3b11dd34f05c538b729191c46fd16a
describe
'32486' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTYA' 'sip-files00158.pro'
444f167d309c1be59a976ea2b8d3c89c
ed94a29abc4f17e0e18970355dd56dc567c98da2
describe
'31393' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTYB' 'sip-files00158.QC.jpg'
b9cc12ebfb72ee85a2fa701026f669ac
895b194b5ce9502342d69153d28d589165ef702f
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTYC' 'sip-files00158.tif'
de863490dd3437bf49e2361282c561c5
300e8d090856300483e4010d73867f87d9884240
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTYD' 'sip-files00158.txt'
755cc095e6f300518869f6694c62df40
6af8f1bd160a880d3e0a54f9114123fcacc09aa8
describe
'9522' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTYE' 'sip-files00158thm.jpg'
3b1596d979862db14dbabe84d7a55eb2
0f705a9f84cc2af30747b7358af88f57d96433ec
describe
'1052850' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTYF' 'sip-files00159.jp2'
7a58e649f6f4e2d3f4d66419b5a42b0a
95648fbf9b7dd4ca59afdc46a077c6eb468ab2de
describe
'82630' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTYG' 'sip-files00159.jpg'
54429a28f87e3f3f46561d3fb6a4704c
98ed77fb212676a4b1c691f1b0f34f625693ea30
describe
'32085' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTYH' 'sip-files00159.pro'
f2f7711c75e91506325de5aa51bef91d
c1fc6640e1def5bb97999b901502f391182f8f3e
describe
'30100' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTYI' 'sip-files00159.QC.jpg'
cbfdffa1667d4a3a9557816146710483
542833689216c9e4c02b30e9d170bec4085cd7ff
describe
'8432861' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTYJ' 'sip-files00159.tif'
5f227b68347f43efd0d5157f499d3644
bc1d03d40221619367af4b4be12620133f37d44c
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTYK' 'sip-files00159.txt'
26a820786740ec90f2e89d209f2f491a
2cb0cc8e73246b4874163116fea31108a084f45e
describe
'9421' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTYL' 'sip-files00159thm.jpg'
445cec0bcd9884fe97191f0a2cef4c9c
7dd7985e8c8f12e830a3a90fe71b1b084196040d
describe
'1058089' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTYM' 'sip-files00160.jp2'
3e1450b11f6bf750f12694331d67077e
a1c5f7faab0d3a040a47e23c30e1a833fc1a0e33
describe
'74877' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTYN' 'sip-files00160.jpg'
d0c16d0b54f2d17ecb558f80aa9fff44
41a7093eeb1350bd54f9eda272daef98426a2d87
describe
'28041' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTYO' 'sip-files00160.pro'
b990e4e2c5ff48b094446e96cc224706
fdbd89a956fb004ea39d5e81b4d5a92e5e766d61
describe
'27755' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTYP' 'sip-files00160.QC.jpg'
d1cfcf1e9e6b7aaaee3e9cee9dfd4366
85ee652543690cc564705abcf4f58f13eced3c2e
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTYQ' 'sip-files00160.tif'
d9503f5eae237d790692192e345b4047
a75ccd2a704abac8bc22240f2b28cc6291c127df
describe
'1168' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTYR' 'sip-files00160.txt'
3e578bf114594f2f29337441ee9e9595
e77d50a5bd3de34929815001d726851fb798b0ca
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTYS' 'sip-files00160thm.jpg'
7fe5a5f2e1f2f0e761ae47fb7d8e93d1
eecd18aaa472d0bddcfd588c82c63e0bb4b8c547
'2011-11-14T23:01:39-05:00'
describe
'1059444' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTYT' 'sip-files00161.jp2'
e3cade380f589c1940235419aad06093
4db22d931d2ace910624c8245620ce175fc347c7
'2011-11-14T22:56:29-05:00'
describe
'83379' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTYU' 'sip-files00161.jpg'
9ffe1aa1d79eaf58cb7ca786d305cb9f
e56879ea7e45d71fca38becf838eb5f12bf9f658
describe
'32600' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTYV' 'sip-files00161.pro'
1300da323d3c7f66a87eddc1cfc79b27
d4bdd83b8dc7bbe0d0bd265bc86dd51e81bed23b
'2011-11-14T22:55:12-05:00'
describe
'30492' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTYW' 'sip-files00161.QC.jpg'
53cd444b51c06ef65c5eecd1ac567c1a
1dd8ac1a5859770aa3d1f3df8c42870db3118413
describe
'8485593' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTYX' 'sip-files00161.tif'
06f63f002baa0328f735849e5e50db00
ba5f6f413c37fc56709e09370eb3e3c7be6d1ad3
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTYY' 'sip-files00161.txt'
da8127bbbf31aaad4f6207f366516485
c87c37b18d5f283960e64aef8c3381477eac3507
describe
'9840' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTYZ' 'sip-files00161thm.jpg'
03eb304dbab6f920620efea5bb058907
2654053dcca55e294a3c226a3f61e211b796d4ca
describe
'1035224' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTZA' 'sip-files00162.jp2'
76189327434997ce55fe14979e02c2a4
70b58a951ed983cc19704fb1b41f2b702389561e
describe
'66734' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTZB' 'sip-files00162.jpg'
5320464360e2554f8ffd2bcc82abd96c
2175e39480aa0671e397e443d18fb2f8ef5aa21a
describe
'26307' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTZC' 'sip-files00162.pro'
cc15d3068d7225e759c6496c7fb53fcd
cb6b39d7ac8ec03dcbefcdb5ad8d84e215b4a2be
describe
'23273' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTZD' 'sip-files00162.QC.jpg'
ad9ed99cd70a91272c41fae45f1fe0c1
96e9f272a202b5ee59d050774f144a2cc1f9cbd3
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTZE' 'sip-files00162.tif'
26ad281946817f1d947e0110ad1cfa40
760e55743e91dc490a703dd7bbf20e5875ca143f
describe
'1284' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTZF' 'sip-files00162.txt'
1d61a9122c95234aa27723c7cf66dd29
97472a2cd8ecc48a28876ecf26d90c8802e5a1a3
describe
'7213' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTZG' 'sip-files00162thm.jpg'
1b2db2021e26f923e127f8f2cbf0e201
30e346241893c44d3b645314ad4349bfa716bb20
describe
'1074802' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTZH' 'sip-files00163.jp2'
57de858e290b3c37a776bd4433e06701
1b0d714824c91df29a396788046387edaced4f72
describe
'82579' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTZI' 'sip-files00163.jpg'
262bcf42b6a0c8e96f08df0e7c18cf13
ee02b236b905a936e774f231e038357e70cff6e8
describe
'32155' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTZJ' 'sip-files00163.pro'
59f7a2b8d9f055627e9617d39226322e
f0d378a0a7e8c26857b125838141aab0a7e83467
describe
'30615' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTZK' 'sip-files00163.QC.jpg'
09f0b0e4227d74529b8863e65d5effaf
cb13bee977817345fddc24d36cf8f207b93ff7ce
describe
'8608401' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTZL' 'sip-files00163.tif'
327bc21c440b270cb5b6c010ef176945
f0dbf2aae522ebef6eb16218a34e19c72c0813c8
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTZM' 'sip-files00163.txt'
32dc22166aa2eacb43dca9538cdc461f
9fd2ec99d92ddfbed50fcffe13f647707c2ac57b
describe
'9401' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTZN' 'sip-files00163thm.jpg'
e983240a4ffb831214e70dff358ee3bc
9e2ce0eef136e58cb3cb35d564f6f84abdc8a891
describe
'1058109' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTZO' 'sip-files00164.jp2'
ef120c7d4bc43227140074f9031b17eb
e2e07595e595c1032130b7b47001bf1e19ae8e0e
describe
'86731' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTZP' 'sip-files00164.jpg'
f3d0df1ccfcb218dfc072f813bdf5902
af8a9c1a4fc832b43a195394e2a4075e250111b2
describe
'33751' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTZQ' 'sip-files00164.pro'
f4c57b2f3b0a12cb13e6f6f11c0eb158
56604ec60673aa03306d2cb9956bd32a39a18a3e
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTZR' 'sip-files00164.QC.jpg'
0dadeb4afea4d69a2a0548d5416a6eee
17a7ae8713ab9b6c0eca5eb85c34a0a945d60f60
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTZS' 'sip-files00164.tif'
f1f67450805092da776fdd594ab7c8da
be20a240d9bc368506bc2d229cf3626ade368c8e
describe
'1366' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTZT' 'sip-files00164.txt'
88673cace5062c7b68ed01a544ff528e
0d5212737242fbe792f60b2e38aba57d086d9822
describe
'9788' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTZU' 'sip-files00164thm.jpg'
b3008463f3d6c8eb252a24cd79a54232
b27642aa9438daea3a6aef90e547fcc082b0262b
describe
'1056626' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTZV' 'sip-files00165.jp2'
4a32d0b6fe337734ef8fc9f15f021de9
b5d169b38cc72abdfb418b8eec128b9ccf733da9
describe
'90970' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTZW' 'sip-files00165.jpg'
10ae6c1425e98e87e920b76509308ea7
59cb8bb6957acfc88f61405465bbb1072066d63b
describe
'35195' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTZX' 'sip-files00165.pro'
ffe2e5202044c498a763970f18d0d81d
c9e4ee9feafedec7c705a0dfc6e5b08a2d7f6ba8
describe
'33503' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTZY' 'sip-files00165.QC.jpg'
e8fd6130a41c2fc31aeea80fda12006b
e7bc77d7aaec9ddf98f42ef0a7cb446c5d1fd96f
describe
'8462973' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABTZZ' 'sip-files00165.tif'
d463755b89d32b31cbedf6365b30214d
d5b8edb4482e254bcea9b86f7788958c9a512844
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUAA' 'sip-files00165.txt'
68f69ad5f98f0335b479e64d786e6fe2
787743c3b3c58f927ff073d83ed5f66559b14d29
describe
'10248' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUAB' 'sip-files00165thm.jpg'
aa4eedca23d5f15e7c8ef6dc11033800
e5760cab9b3e34ea631661b3373daf1b4f24b5d3
describe
'1058135' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUAC' 'sip-files00166.jp2'
730b68010c4f68e0686cf51788145954
d295a9112c5f8bb60e9264cb810fe1546d92220b
describe
'90358' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUAD' 'sip-files00166.jpg'
36a5739a2908dfce96929d572bd6a1d7
2e49dada50e773917d3fed4bd49504620ba464d7
'2011-11-14T22:58:20-05:00'
describe
'34714' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUAE' 'sip-files00166.pro'
69e9f7fb3ee523efa43016fa7f90afb9
10167580b4128ad9572fc04eb5c8b91502dac25c
describe
'33469' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUAF' 'sip-files00166.QC.jpg'
9526f136baed51dc3559014767a369ef
1967573435e75a89003ea816442c0bec6a768f21
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUAG' 'sip-files00166.tif'
8886d45fff353a427968e3215579b4f6
5e9f0dc811abf8180a0bbfc80809f93e39395836
'2011-11-14T23:00:30-05:00'
describe
'1473' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUAH' 'sip-files00166.txt'
8a213104a44ca4c1c9e981e7349cd2b2
01f08090765ec2c158f1815ba3a6c2bfa76228a0
describe
'10035' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUAI' 'sip-files00166thm.jpg'
892fcf43b1a937285f76d7d4ef308b36
387a24892beb46c8a334d620f963db293e03c96d
describe
'1034436' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUAJ' 'sip-files00167.jp2'
25618a3f20091361b6e4dedda4e62308
20dbbe37daae30f21a012ffc2b7d65d893a1d243
describe
'84734' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUAK' 'sip-files00167.jpg'
bc6e5bc49138c822c5ba421139934450
669b24dad5066495f88054d622bbacafa94f2885
describe
'33268' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUAL' 'sip-files00167.pro'
217dd1e6e2e8bebbc01a7b604728c39e
6c8c860193d4ffa7cd2b4ae9f9c5c20bc29c2767
describe
'30735' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUAM' 'sip-files00167.QC.jpg'
3579678ca3bc3329f79bca6b6d6a7acc
276f8cd5dbcc94dc412ab8bca9ab531d0c863d94
describe
'8285223' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUAN' 'sip-files00167.tif'
ce113dd20605e8bf936bcac8763d4fe7
1d99733328cd2428806625430e7ecea99633a8a3
'2011-11-14T22:59:05-05:00'
describe
'1351' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUAO' 'sip-files00167.txt'
85551050aa7fc6f4f1d854f684acc84b
e200a490a5a37418bfcd70416d4e37945d2e4aaa
describe
'9971' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUAP' 'sip-files00167thm.jpg'
012f5db12afaf6b79c650075433bb630
aa15c980ce0b99422dec1bf9bdb41ac07b590ab9
describe
'1058153' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUAQ' 'sip-files00168.jp2'
2007a3f29a5883ad3f5f1f8c02fdcf31
d60c212117e84a839cc60fec9aea2af3d8582806
'2011-11-14T23:00:59-05:00'
describe
'87152' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUAR' 'sip-files00168.jpg'
9f83c4c6177bed080a5a427ef3072ea3
fc5554316537771fb2d12c6722b8abf540962150
describe
'33992' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUAS' 'sip-files00168.pro'
a5af54d5476095b9b05d4dabd9261f4f
c9f2e8fbe1089bd24d28aadf2593072e7c4ad166
describe
'31898' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUAT' 'sip-files00168.QC.jpg'
2d88fad134ff196af0fc16495474778c
01944c3853f99b10224f36d986e7c30e45adb756
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUAU' 'sip-files00168.tif'
a8167f3777bbdb672fbdad3ff5f2d539
af9c4c2e08e52a163e1085e4ecaabdb87d69d140
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUAV' 'sip-files00168.txt'
2685f373b029abbeb1205b477ce0695d
21f13a9de73c83d2d55759a98e8f65ef95087980
describe
'9738' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUAW' 'sip-files00168thm.jpg'
8715fc92954046a8c5c24d8d595df4a3
94b12bc0638abe59d9d15bc9725657b5b05e47e0
describe
'1047764' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUAX' 'sip-files00169.jp2'
d4ff8e9c71326711a02d84d3be443f0f
2a1d00ec039ed76adc9819855fac890bae47a60e
describe
'87575' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUAY' 'sip-files00169.jpg'
aa7430f017a3959f4d9fd72100a021d0
c6ae0570ebed46696bd57b79ad07f3ba551c8957
describe
'34683' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUAZ' 'sip-files00169.pro'
b3dc0f316b84d7b49852815e28a8286b
fcbe8e8a0f971c3bb07f9704f80fa59a805da621
describe
'32288' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUBA' 'sip-files00169.QC.jpg'
c4f56a68f65a816fd2b2802441e66e3f
b1e617dcb72baa2889c4a340f7ddd3482dec3446
describe
'8391951' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUBB' 'sip-files00169.tif'
e019d33d63b4ff5bf085f223f1edfb1e
d2d1c8277b9f11d7a81f343a7aa8b55ee3e34313
'2011-11-14T22:59:30-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUBC' 'sip-files00169.txt'
e76fcd0d26b56af201a9995ea9953c6e
0542360bf4dfb5e142ebdec7d1b386e64cad14dd
describe
'10293' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUBD' 'sip-files00169thm.jpg'
51f5cd460e48a31452e1da1b8a30079a
dd3e3d7719c98340111b20f0d8da20393d83f8ae
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUBE' 'sip-files00170.jp2'
96a3f6ce56ed932f44a300491ac1d22d
946f18819b0e534a0de22f718c9b46674902b29b
describe
'87166' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUBF' 'sip-files00170.jpg'
84a8e8e99553445043164ab8b1abfd66
9ce7e7e039df2d039feec3dbb86b91c29b3e3902
describe
'34028' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUBG' 'sip-files00170.pro'
73aacc30b4fe5a64a39b8fd07edd6c4d
93a93e9a9e441879aebc975d34fa7c4ecf652215
describe
'32255' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUBH' 'sip-files00170.QC.jpg'
8f72379e703012607db1c1aba6c9ab61
03689664a492809b8410fbd6ae4571bc53c85ca6
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUBI' 'sip-files00170.tif'
fa8549bbd49eb090241e93e1a5039037
3165277209acc2b2c7e4c0f5469f9ad14c8958ae
describe
'1393' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUBJ' 'sip-files00170.txt'
f346807bf5826b122a59725c2eafc8e0
ef0228feecaa1ca595361cc035d59034e3f132b2
describe
'9900' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUBK' 'sip-files00170thm.jpg'
f4c8289e62a6508f2b8aab9587811455
7fda34f8f69e8e2fd06f074b7aac22debed0fd1e
describe
'1057225' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUBL' 'sip-files00171.jp2'
8f57e7b01790590b6c848fdd903c4461
a94df7f16a8c2d709df703b23f11ac5b58011fb1
describe
'88096' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUBM' 'sip-files00171.jpg'
e8ef4100556d6a6670d67652a03c556d
11fd0cae27a5153f60642176e05d0cce371c7b61
describe
'34815' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUBN' 'sip-files00171.pro'
eb058e1f262bcd31ec6273c0ba8825e7
05d575f2c72cd467032e9f2495b0fc16a3ffcf11
describe
'31785' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUBO' 'sip-files00171.QC.jpg'
0631c2cd0e8c07818df8b330d11f33a4
2d91a1e6916cbdd6672d64419879d7a159dea79f
describe
'8468017' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUBP' 'sip-files00171.tif'
ebb33d5c5a59c43f98549aad7a0ade14
7dc5996e6cbadeccbe820ab05cff2830d270fe81
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUBQ' 'sip-files00171.txt'
a37b7e9a951d50876a7de8ce04818545
c1a27b447009585cdabf64886788a85248c104b3
describe
'9922' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUBR' 'sip-files00171thm.jpg'
9904150142bbd094f4702b9c5fa2e07a
83f52835b4d2be248783f76d93b4ce7d07be5aa6
describe
'1058178' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUBS' 'sip-files00172.jp2'
7bf8cc4b0c319d4e48d09ff9a160a189
961cc42bb20a955799cc078520fd2eb3abd843ff
describe
'91424' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUBT' 'sip-files00172.jpg'
733d3cadd955523a81214f69c42a1e33
4b6569fa317ac6ba5904b9e9208feae3a5c98e49
describe
'35961' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUBU' 'sip-files00172.pro'
1b742e6c47ff1cd536da6cbe935890bd
b4ce9f76f864a097c47a4e7d883168a43bafb531
describe
'33430' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUBV' 'sip-files00172.QC.jpg'
d4eb993f4e7866c9417d03d9624421a0
2259c4dd8fb643559e6bef1d6deec9be9ade600a
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUBW' 'sip-files00172.tif'
7556afab33f421e91137fcf804eaacb3
01e6234fa5932b5f4a2acf96526af7f930993355
describe
'1464' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUBX' 'sip-files00172.txt'
18c7cb95f7964d87127d8fb09a9575dd
45fb7fb7eb38767bceb93d45afedb3751f31ec69
describe
'9935' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUBY' 'sip-files00172thm.jpg'
bcb607caa910d264afc93ec15d53d839
c95d5addc2338c41352d467d03c9f53392cf9d7b
describe
'1070086' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUBZ' 'sip-files00173.jp2'
ba533db6ef29e4d0759bc9e6efd2cf29
730d5aaa130a1b85826bd36900629323bae5e2f1
'2011-11-14T22:59:28-05:00'
describe
'89176' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUCA' 'sip-files00173.jpg'
f137d0c2d53cca76c2cc1ea1d10b7000
380d93f171866dcd0a75dfed4f455d601a5974c0
describe
'35123' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUCB' 'sip-files00173.pro'
7914d8dcfe37678631a55ef6c2286cef
1ed82929b904a611a488824a39f8f167b98aab58
describe
'32389' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUCC' 'sip-files00173.QC.jpg'
d1810eaeb97bbdf6af50e60a36541f59
ff6add4f791e409a3c70b6613e036d1098639a20
describe
'8570535' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUCD' 'sip-files00173.tif'
204aa7ab1186d277ff655fe1492ba298
776f351a8c2e48d704c439342a3d1a819bb294b2
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUCE' 'sip-files00173.txt'
498ddf2fa77835112ca37b0fb080803a
d004a469cafa26a74c464a96f16d2c5e7834fa54
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUCF' 'sip-files00173thm.jpg'
e1f2271c08ef5146f15727fa22044e6e
c338c853369ab8ea9266a076ae4d9f9319e2afb3
describe
'1058104' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUCG' 'sip-files00174.jp2'
4e80bf3fbde4d1535441fdcdb513816c
98827c7c03280a38409552bcacaa3c2b81a22738
describe
'87400' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUCH' 'sip-files00174.jpg'
f7e10293436541dd982e1c92c4ea63b6
6d43fb482911229cd45720c57ecf8b043e6edc96
describe
'34241' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUCI' 'sip-files00174.pro'
c375302b8a481f34867430134d409254
bf40958d8e3c2216351e28e213664cb3813e627b
describe
'32302' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUCJ' 'sip-files00174.QC.jpg'
1986be035f57a46f52785d95c19eb91c
b6b3077c5fdc41f72e226cf5d63927e909d486f9
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUCK' 'sip-files00174.tif'
e14aa48c7be2cd916018c0847e38a8d2
8804437517abf812e35d338ae3d9c2b1e5408220
describe
'1379' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUCL' 'sip-files00174.txt'
afede7c62e3ba3419bb729ad0bc92c2d
2c297522e1e74c60ada4e276b023c0428531908a
describe
'9544' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUCM' 'sip-files00174thm.jpg'
9fdfd06926a8476463ff773b63f953fb
8a214f1cf41f27d3aef827da7f6ef7f334f81e12
describe
'1063403' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUCN' 'sip-files00175.jp2'
2429fbcab6c187b767581edac767b85a
4872714751138664cc8ecf180149a25573957340
describe
'82913' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUCO' 'sip-files00175.jpg'
19077474b256f1a8e1585a25a36063b3
5532f4a9b9789750f5545553b010dce0d658966d
describe
'32397' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUCP' 'sip-files00175.pro'
869a7844a5176d15ed2797cb8e8625c3
398595dc8bdfe32cd97056a569371d9f9371b033
describe
'30083' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUCQ' 'sip-files00175.QC.jpg'
272e53adf3fd8c6a127d1c039ac995bd
cb5eb89f55a80f2cc78927ca7cd4d0eaa28f966f
describe
'8517429' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUCR' 'sip-files00175.tif'
76173de953e445a6c59a174f8f14093f
6e658080d9eb112f24484d6fecbdca807c0a7c24
describe
'863' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUCS' 'sip-filesBack.txt'
ead75ff756b1506dbf05b51bd0795515
f63aa7f59dbf60661181d2675fb8ec91cf742ab6
describe
WARNING CODE 'Daitss::Anomaly' Invalid character
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUCT' 'sip-files00175.txt'
a26fac610a02788aaa38d14db1ba47b8
ad42e9d142b7d688ed296203415c5ffe37ef8a4b
describe
'9644' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUCU' 'sip-files00175thm.jpg'
ac4636a518866682ab54709cd3b2bf7a
5bb7978ea63f54a684640a84e72ad0006acc47e6
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUCV' 'sip-files00176.jp2'
ddbb44cceb9b10d47729b97243defea1
aa4c99bf32a36ee9697c3e015c692eabaaf429cb
describe
'88064' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUCW' 'sip-files00176.jpg'
f095c7edfe0078986127c3c5bea01d94
d0f772d3afdf3d6fd6b8c8d8a8097e14b7c79062
describe
'34574' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUCX' 'sip-files00176.pro'
3bcf671961badf35b7f845b231c856a9
eed10bb19caaae29a6e9c95dc5cda0698642a37f
describe
'33180' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUCY' 'sip-files00176.QC.jpg'
b213ac7987aa2f491ae9c639972ccca0
8ce61dcf2e5f7f685aeedbf0184d4f3a6b56f12f
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUCZ' 'sip-files00176.tif'
968ed9786bffa0a51088d4a5eaabcdbd
c14b692fa87f54e9c5b2cd806eee323cf674ac63
describe
'1435' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUDA' 'sip-files00176.txt'
ca29c770ede19644d422d12301d89247
639ab103ad8afc67a09262e84f3364e723733497
describe
'10030' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUDB' 'sip-files00176thm.jpg'
de77e40b39afd1f4b987bcf9a5c86c5c
cac4a916c2715d7c09553795787e8be5bce228c4
describe
'1078319' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUDC' 'sip-files00177.jp2'
f366bf0cde3331e72190227b0555c645
947627be4c20c0f75a465801dadc5e291c085f69
describe
'72789' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUDD' 'sip-files00177.jpg'
d2ada5f88e8cc1f5d490f0e9dc48366b
205729e44c5853a521f83208927da1e7fd96c8a4
describe
'27266' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUDE' 'sip-files00177.pro'
58b9a1a4dfe645bcfbecb7a0c15fa39a
040196c328d5e10664fcd03349d06ccf1f3ceecc
describe
'26832' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUDF' 'sip-files00177.QC.jpg'
0143ab8f40deb78680a8b84167f15b6c
3254a38cad215537761126d9df6c3fa5c31ff400
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUDG' 'sip-files00177.tif'
59f99f1c9dc328160309013ff01b04f6
878973d8ab9bf9d2b7bab2d6a944b19f368148d1
describe
'1091' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUDH' 'sip-files00177.txt'
f8202e885a7011bc694c60846b20ff07
528541ef41c31b6844dd3782b2bc647abf3fca77
describe
'8001' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUDI' 'sip-files00177thm.jpg'
9b886f732e3f503f841318ba1d4388fc
e462e4bed6275467b14bdecb47ba3bad74c06e5c
describe
'923904' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUDJ' 'sip-files00178.jp2'
2bc0d84ee17524bc8b1a6ef35fd5d064
cbef1e94f04cb4215b24cc2269bc29d49be28e64
describe
'54896' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUDK' 'sip-files00178.jpg'
5fc9e45f8cfd3785a86df8bff45fc363
85791f0fa03728b2da96e2e570b7f3f74469e4dd
describe
'20239' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUDL' 'sip-files00178.pro'
91a52b2b311458ed6bdabae24a3fd057
494401a7372bab04f0f4dc488017ff4bfd28f933
describe
'20199' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUDM' 'sip-files00178.QC.jpg'
3cd99f25be3a72965a3eef5848e69f9c
df212afbcbce8ab080b5a5346a9f976ab213fa6a
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUDN' 'sip-files00178.tif'
2415e76101d85f3f1527a062e29e9976
ed5b7ed6fb3fd6475ab4c3f12d4560c3b47c873b
describe
'855' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUDO' 'sip-files00178.txt'
ec2e576015043749da8ced797efbb880
18874203a01daec87777012ae35307aa7ef2f7ff
describe
'6409' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUDP' 'sip-files00178thm.jpg'
7972ff3a23341dd66c446601da4d771c
6f88c00635f9a648fe4ffa02da3e9075a8e7c0ca
describe
'1112860' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUDQ' 'sip-files00179.jp2'
a0ea46fa2367401c2d1874f9c3d1a00d
ebdde398ccb056ff0a5f0ae3dd6e2e15a853518d
describe
'86163' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUDR' 'sip-files00179.jpg'
2d8792b8e4b978adf4557675ffe16301
e60a12400658f85ad1e446f8f5a6ae6767df6aa7
describe
'34129' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUDS' 'sip-files00179.pro'
90412ee8a4b376205445705c0615b47f
4d4a1334cba2b528337dd0ea376a3ce2519e0d57
describe
'31787' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUDT' 'sip-files00179.QC.jpg'
bf4fc39cef1824c7de3ea20a64ccbde1
15fc0553eab8683e7616f81e6bdbd31cbd9b6f30
describe
'8913889' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUDU' 'sip-files00179.tif'
c2abbb4e801869eec390fde8ec7a7504
95a3a05d1eb138fbd54960f2a7e9ca72c4bf5522
describe
'1367' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUDV' 'sip-files00179.txt'
03d939d6dd05341e0b87c11c01ac31a6
d4cc326c6945a2cea08b3da9b47c5d589d3d5c79
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUDW' 'sip-files00179thm.jpg'
0bbd9e2698bfcc38003e3263935eaba1
9392b228212c6bbe63cb198bded28c9f136a7e47
describe
'1096137' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUDX' 'sip-files00180.jp2'
1893326909630710be2dfc0743630dab
2893627d78cb6f340f67ad82fc6864915956bff2
describe
'83454' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUDY' 'sip-files00180.jpg'
2aa543d67a2eb1444246970f150c92df
1d63b4be7749cd0f97e7ed7b4a65a82b1b81f8af
describe
'31608' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUDZ' 'sip-files00180.pro'
8fdacc12456f4c5eaf8136e510f69c1f
a56fafa7489b7f6a24761fff9967cf07d37c9ff3
describe
'30586' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUEA' 'sip-files00180.QC.jpg'
96d89b35550406492809990d8626bc6b
5ee7fc62754d7c8cac90dd2b3a9d9bad4185d512
describe
'8780549' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUEB' 'sip-files00180.tif'
ddc250e4203411c7a8b303abfd681a80
3bf7dfb8631b3e0d512cd16e3900fd454a53f691
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUEC' 'sip-files00180.txt'
b9e3b0ad64aa8055d49122c790c004be
98ede09977e19aa21e48b572c61a50826cc0c712
describe
'8688' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUED' 'sip-files00180thm.jpg'
a403ade68abd73ba082606214610eef5
2df19e6fa24103fb4cb61b6410fd7ced318d0fd9
describe
'1112979' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUEE' 'sip-files00181.jp2'
a6c16a0957365ee76f16e42e60edb927
95002cdd732bd4e9f777b7a898f963ea4d2f7920
describe
'73177' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUEF' 'sip-files00181.jpg'
1a9e741e4ff3c56ed518059e1105d0a9
a091c72c30c3b48903bb36cfe47a6d4d5653661e
describe
'29638' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUEG' 'sip-files00181.pro'
5ff653659dd53e1ae181603f6d77ff8a
fb5227af97a83e3da7d75de945602570c1c9899c
describe
'26117' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUEH' 'sip-files00181.QC.jpg'
6ef86f2f17bda7277df12add3307fec7
59bd7cdc21599764491832375c5df5a5949e4439
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUEI' 'sip-files00181.tif'
53d33d90b6ae5ba8191e13141e5476d6
2c0d9beb8c879c5ba540ef3098f29e539a1b3eb4
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUEJ' 'sip-files00181.txt'
adf76e6bfad10b1b3d91dee977b18ede
db4dc73f4ddfdb30a547f8daa0c926d8f8f54bba
describe
'8021' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUEK' 'sip-files00181thm.jpg'
adf212b6c5e380e13cb32e782c479645
dba9eefa2f081df418d8a227e54ace257aa8689e
describe
'1096334' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUEL' 'sip-files00182.jp2'
56b29c7f0e21885c5c93e32a5cadfe20
5cc437606c17bf94d38cbc73b448bbc809f5a22f
describe
'90636' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUEM' 'sip-files00182.jpg'
03cf55d2c256c04f645ca91af835145c
6ac54364ae0959620ea03072495a134f4052e0a2
describe
'36015' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUEN' 'sip-files00182.pro'
617de6226f9449a045acff551ec63dad
3bab74f3dedc6b4d00b8f354a8b8627693d54aa3
describe
'32624' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUEO' 'sip-files00182.QC.jpg'
a2d4e1f4ec2b69e8d0f171278b730c8a
3c6bedbdac5407db93b40ea0c3098491fae66455
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUEP' 'sip-files00182.tif'
ffbb1f1eaa82718f424d05f4070bf160
d81ecc64b1b31559a4241f77b4e18742b4403727
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUEQ' 'sip-files00182.txt'
f8deef4d84019cc6bafaa3d45400e97d
c673872743ed10e10d10628b904fb1faf6264033
describe
'9012' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUER' 'sip-files00182thm.jpg'
4baad501a940eee68e45476566a75b38
bcd7b7006de8679ac00626a37f3d69132c47e7c7
describe
'1112989' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUES' 'sip-files00183.jp2'
dcdd03ce28f19f19da3a1d13d1526a70
2afd2b78afd7522072dfec67ca892e727e3ae291
describe
'84924' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUET' 'sip-files00183.jpg'
a4da1a1bc036d46d60c12cdafe94932c
fa70dcbce704e753c715e851235debab860df947
describe
'34870' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUEU' 'sip-files00183.pro'
6b478648426572c25f0a568f67a64428
d7bdf64bcf8c58701d05773479484f47685c3dd5
describe
'31483' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUEV' 'sip-files00183.QC.jpg'
2bd094f46d2bfdd84662f6bef926019b
7da448e1af49cc5d6494b7cba7ab380afaa29872
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUEW' 'sip-files00183.tif'
ced29179b7695264b17c3b6d8a3ec287
f3eea21a82002097c315fb28c5e0d7e241a191a5
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUEX' 'sip-files00183.txt'
c7df2d06f59e591a10968b61c9cb896a
da749a89b53c929be06a29ffce0e214bf41f9083
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUEY' 'sip-files00183thm.jpg'
7d2ec4e237683a1256203c00e606bd8c
99a3efb5143c652422001540d77fd434d667b105
describe
'1096348' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUEZ' 'sip-files00184.jp2'
6bafadf8d0209bdab9056c27d2464edf
d5dbfa1249e245d230f5479623f7353d3414bafe
describe
'85304' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUFA' 'sip-files00184.jpg'
5b68a24d43cbcc069032d9f9854bec16
dacec7b797ecc74ac4fc5ea518e20385b0a0c642
describe
'34608' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUFB' 'sip-files00184.pro'
6d203190a583be83d7e9a63aac0365e3
e95611a6ac658f2d8a76bf1c9259a5d5ecda5645
describe
'31984' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUFC' 'sip-files00184.QC.jpg'
b5e988a363ce5764bead516e765c7a8c
f20050c11b69a867dfb13e59fb7b3cbddc98ab45
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUFD' 'sip-files00184.tif'
a2c419938905930b932e9b0d92a71417
64eac843f8bea904a8934817b22f5a89f745585d
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUFE' 'sip-files00184.txt'
776bce52876dfece6fd66b1fabf31a80
6aeee360b448ad97cf0b55b238d353961debd743
describe
'9103' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUFF' 'sip-files00184thm.jpg'
656b758c4eb3f8567fec3b63f5edf729
6e9c744f91d41c9f9e252773933632db6d387f71
describe
'1076238' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUFG' 'sip-files00185.jp2'
431ec05e05de036266004332836ed424
c206131f0555fef8494c31b3b06f3a0005cc7693
describe
'90265' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUFH' 'sip-files00185.jpg'
77b61215f4eef7ca4ef78b0a7c9e045a
734b4b11be2fcc6973dc5c172538e2d0a451f69e
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUFI' 'sip-files00185.pro'
bb44158631724e00737af6db09dda0b0
e34d9a57f7e106130c73c8066207f65c77611ae6
describe
'32015' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUFJ' 'sip-files00185.QC.jpg'
6b2721fcf828e80e5d9c9784652d8b86
1cca4374102a619dd0b2d4cfeb2e5256db6f8c40
describe
'8620121' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUFK' 'sip-files00185.tif'
73deba9e24be5760a6868fa5987c8262
139b97b367aebf544ad327496b23cbf7edde3658
describe
'1432' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUFL' 'sip-files00185.txt'
337be74e628d751f4d31b4476be265e6
05d55ac68a87efb10154aba9e6ad67bb92931570
describe
'10683' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUFM' 'sip-files00185thm.jpg'
2832f9d0a33a5d59a99beb6488c999e6
bfa81e37bbd5471c61d025bd842510ce5d5a7526
describe
'1018769' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUFN' 'sip-files00186.jp2'
482af65095e096cbabc449b23bfec7c7
e4862b0347b31aec1efcd19de3838f3160931328
describe
'91565' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUFO' 'sip-files00186.jpg'
2f791a944e839f8c89858746ad090ff4
6df0ac66f419b110ece25b0bc5dbccbbd531a3a3
describe
'36242' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUFP' 'sip-files00186.pro'
b97276af8adfcae2b846a434da557520
c2faabdc2f94fa142527c04e70eab444871ca568
describe
'33415' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUFQ' 'sip-files00186.QC.jpg'
1ea7073d032ba4623bc893cb64a4437b
e915cc8d28a4a7eedd944ece638936b37d320e54
describe
'8159881' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUFR' 'sip-files00186.tif'
4dff68beab030048bfe1c0d065d5dc9c
145fe02c7f9fd3b8202906c63ca82641a1bb85b2
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUFS' 'sip-files00186.txt'
4f8788b283cdd426babd698afe112e89
679986013e0a849867047163258e440f96cfc326
describe
'10627' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUFT' 'sip-files00186thm.jpg'
1fb76f565281896b63dab00367e02d1b
feb9112b64e74617c209e7413ab6e762e9891591
describe
'1112915' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUFU' 'sip-files00187.jp2'
8ee4a9e3c1c68e563fb376503143283b
ab946755f61612e690143c3aa6944ab80070b2c1
describe
'81772' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUFV' 'sip-files00187.jpg'
cfea6416c19e058d04d53452d4ab4f48
c465dca6810377e4001d52a6560a281e297a6924
describe
'32796' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUFW' 'sip-files00187.pro'
18169b878c0cc75513ca094297ea0171
ea2ff810050e27875ea52d083a209b34dbfdd7b8
describe
'29339' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUFX' 'sip-files00187.QC.jpg'
fa45686ad95599dfcf124831c774248f
da455f34beda2ecc160851931106fcb0f12e8b1e
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUFY' 'sip-files00187.tif'
1e8b4547a4b59700bcf46bc36dddafac
2597635c0a3bdb8a70e4aaa1523798e7829a5477
describe
'1304' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUFZ' 'sip-files00187.txt'
b46d3da4f4987823d813f10556dc10a8
5098d9e35486d041c5679dfec6cb66878447e66d
describe
'9120' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUGA' 'sip-files00187thm.jpg'
dea7ab3df1bf33c40ab6db93b96840e2
fbba181b8b2eb6139fb8223804d28f0c17cc4afe
describe
'1096319' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUGB' 'sip-files00188.jp2'
ddbb880e265a4ead7497bf9d68ab7898
e6e9e0aeaef21bea7182d6b90404fc9673c66686
describe
'80881' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUGC' 'sip-files00188.jpg'
096379f4d5d924d86c7f61e14f4e6f40
5f667f694ee99cc28e68acb7eef9b8aefb1133a9
describe
'31871' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUGD' 'sip-files00188.pro'
5b1051103c398131592d255f4fb6397e
2453c8355b6e229c2d9e20541870c39ab7fe3966
describe
'29819' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUGE' 'sip-files00188.QC.jpg'
c2d05d8adac5c4221bcd8d141dbc8ef9
1d76bbd86f8329f6a0cef0393f082323fd29f3bb
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUGF' 'sip-files00188.tif'
b572c8810a599061a6c9fdbf0b7612d3
ab09222def242fe9cdb4d48fecc926825cd90e6a
describe
'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUGG' 'sip-files00188.txt'
72bab845d0e3537bc3e946c92be53b31
56340694593e74e0e385c4eb29c7174c41825174
describe
'8509' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUGH' 'sip-files00188thm.jpg'
52f7bc5aec9d01b9ce4d9e7e021855f3
67d6513d4f42d77d03d568648c187391778f115d
describe
'1081944' 'info:fdaE20080810_AAAAAZfileF20080810_AABUGI' 'sip-files00189.jp2'
5b675aeaaa9c4206404bfe1d1