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Contents
The Many Kinds Of Mods
How To Install Your Mods
Land & Biome Design Mods
Visual Mods
The Many Kinds Of Mods
When someone makes a mod, they’re actually going in and writing
computer code to make changes to the game, which then needs to
be loaded into the game’s regular code. Because of this, mods can
vary greatly in all respects, from how many changes they make and
how big those changes are, to how big the files in the mod are and
how they get loaded into the game’s normal code.

There are tech mods that make Minecraft a world of extreme automation (image
by Drullkus)

It’s useful when getting an idea of how mods work, what they can
do for your game, and just generally what mods are out there to
separate them into different categories. We’ve done this in three
different ways to help introduce you to the world of mods, first by
breaking them into sizes, giving each mod a complexity rating, and
also by separating into categories by what they add. There are
almost as many types of mods as there are mods themselves (of
which there are thousands), and the lines can blur for some between
the categories (like Thaumcraft, which adds items but does enough
with systems to be included in that category) but most of them fit
under one or more of these definitions:

And then there are mods that are all about plain fun and adding in cool things
from other universes, like the Pixelmon mod seen here.

Mods of Different Sizes

Size is an important factor when it comes to mods, because a mod’s
size typically determines two things that players need to know: how
difficult the mod will be to install, and how much it will change the
vanilla game. How much it changes the game is something that
matters quite a lot. Sometimes players are looking to change the
entirety of their game, while others just want a little tweak. This is
even more important when trying to mix various mods together in
one game, something we’ll talk about more in the next chapter.

BubbaDogface, the writer of this book’s trusty Minecraft pup, owes his name and
ability to be a Creeper hunter to a small mod called Doggy Talents. Isn’t he a cute
little dogface?

The sizes of mods:

Tiny mods: Tiny mods are ones that make minimal, barely noticeable
additions or changes to the game. Utility mods are often tiny mods,
adding just a little change to the Heads Up Display, as are mods like
our Odd Mod Spotlight mod Second Screen, which adds a very
lightweight system that lets you chat and see data on your Minecraft
server from another device. One very notable and desirable feature
of tiny mods is that they are often so lightweight that they are very
easy to run at the same time as other mods. In fact, they’re so easy
to install with other mods that tiny mods are often put in modpacks
with many other, often much bigger mods.
Small mods: Smaller mods usually tweak or add just one small thing
or segment of the game. For instance Fex’s Random Stuff Mod just
adds a bunch of items. Playing with small mods usually doesn’t feel
all that different from the regular game, there’s just a little more to
do or a few more entities to interact with. Small mods often work
together very well as well, similar to tiny mods, if not quite so easily.
Mid-sized mods: These are mods that make either one significant
change or a few smaller changes together. An example of this would
be the ICBM Mod, which really isn’t a very large mod, but it does
add items, a new set of crafting recipes and a new way to do
combat. Mythical Creatures is another mid-sized mod, really just
adding mobs and a few items, but adding a ton of mobs that are
very different from the regular ones and which can make a big
difference to the game.
Big mods: As opposed to small mods, you’ll notice when you load up
a game with a big mod. They tend to change large parts of the
game significantly, making it a mostly or entirely new experience. As
an example, one such mod is the Tinkers’ Construct, which takes the
regular method of crafting tools and items through a Crafting Table
and makes it much more complicated, adding multiple types of
crafting stations, tables and forges and making players use Patterns
and build each individual part of the tool they want. Another
example is the Aether mod, which adds an entire new dimension in
the sky. These mods are ones which can’t be ignored in a game.
Full conversion mods: Full conversion mods are big mods that are
the most noticeable, because they change the game in huge ways,
usually so much so that the objective when playing them is
something new. This category includes mods like The Crafting Dead,
which aims to turn the Minecraft world into a zombie apocalypse
wasteland. It includes guns, advanced zombies and new systems for
thirst, whether you can be seen or heard, temperature, and even
whether you’re bleeding. Even cooler, it also adds in new specially
generated maps that simulate the world of a zombie apocalypse.
Though you can (and should) build in The Crafting Dead, the goal is
much more about surviving zombie attacks and living in a much
harsher world than it is about mining and the like, making it a full
conversion of the game.
Modpacks: The biggest of all, modpacks are groups of mods that
have been put together by players and/or mod creators in curated
packages so that they all load together. These are the best place to
start out when it comes to mods, as they are usually very easy to
load, and they give you the chance to experience many of the best
mods right away. Additionally, mods can be very picky about working
together normally, but modpacks are specially put together so that
they just work without you having to do much of anything. That
being said, stacking mods very quickly changes the game heavily,
and some of the modpacks can get a bit intimidating with all of their
many, many new things (for instance, FTB Infinity with over 100
mods).

Here you see two types of mods mixed together, a biomes mod, and a few
different visual mods including shaders, a program that tweaks the visuals of
Minecraft (Optifine) and an image taking mod.

Mods of Different Types

We’ve organized our book based on a way of looking at mods, which
divides them by type. We did this because knowing a mod’s type is
what tells you the most about a mod, and by “type,” we’re referring
to the primary thing that each mod actually does.
It should be noted that many mods actually do a few things, and
some of those things might fit in another category other than the
one the mod is listed in with this book. The line between mods is
often quite fluid, and it’s easy to put many of these mods in multiple
categories. Quite a few mods out there do quite a lot, but we’ve
categorized mods as we have based on the main thing that they are
known for and do.
With that in mind, here are the primary categories for each type of
mod:
Utility mods: These are mods meant to be useful to the player in
some specific way, making gameplay just a little easier or more
informative, and they’re usually very small. Utility mods do things
like add a better map to your interface, tell you the exact amount of
daylight/night left, or make it easier to find friends. They also tend
to work with other mods easily, as they’re often among the tiniest
mods that are out there.
Item mods: Item mods are those whose primary purpose is to do
just what the title says and add a whole bunch of items. Some items
mods also add in some systems, like Still Hungry’s new cooking
system on the Stove, but these are usually very simple and not the
primary objective of the mod. Items mods are pretty popular among
the categories because they don’t require a lot of learning of new
things and are very controllable by the player. Think of it as adding
more toppings to a pizza: there’s just more to experience, and the
overall flavor is just that much more complex and exciting, but it’s
still pizza at its core.
Land and biome design mods: The world around you in Minecraft is
already pretty complex with its many biomes, but it can always get
more interesting! These mods are those whose point is to make the
land more complex or otherwise change it. Some add new biomes or
dimensions, like Twilight Forest or ExtraBiomesXL, while others do
littler tweaks like Mineralogy’s new way of distributing rock.
Combat mods: More items to fight with, ways to fight better, and
new ways to fight! Some people don’t care much about combat in
Minecraft, choosing to build, because the basic system really isn’t
very extensive. It shouldn’t come as much of a surprise to anyone
that some people have really wanted better combat in Minecraft, and
that’s exactly what combat mods provide. Some do this heavily, like
Mine and Blade’s new system of weapon holding and items, and
some just add a little to basic combat, like BetterPvP.
Mob mods: Who doesn’t want more cuddly (or not so cuddly)
creatures to play with in their Minecraft world? Mob mods are
actually surprisingly few, perhaps because it can get pretty crowded
pretty quick if you overdo it on creatures (which is also hard on your
computer), but the ones that do this well give Minecraft a fuller feel,
making the world feel like a place where things are constantly
happening, and there’s a potential friend or foe around every tree.
Building mods: Many mods add blocks; in fact a majority of them do.
Because it’s so common, and so many mods that do so belong more
in another category, that’s not what we mean when we talk about
building mods. Instead, these are mods that do the building for you,
making it much quicker to create structures. This isn’t a highly
common type of mod, but they are out there.
Adventure enhancers: We use this term to refer to those mods which
all have in common the fact that make “fantasy and adventure” part
of Minecraft more detailed and complex. That’s not really a technical
term of course, and this is a pretty wide category of mods, but we
think it makes sense to group these mods together. That’s partly
because the sense of going on an adventure in a fantastical land is
such a big part of Minecraft’s charm, so it makes sense to focus on
these mods as a category, and they also just work very well
together. Some of our favorite mods fall into this category, as do
many of the most downloaded mods on the internet.

Even a few minutes inside vanilla Minecraft would give you the knowledge that the
tech you’re seeing in this image by Drullkus just could never happen in regular
Minecraft.

Magic, tech, and crafting systems: Another of the most popular mod
types, these mods add new systems of doing things, giving players
something to learn beyond basic crafting and Redstone. Sometimes
this is just one small system, like the Railcraft or ICBM mods, but
sometimes it adds so much and/or is so dang complex that it makes
figuring out Redstone wiring seem like child’s play, like Thermal
Expansion or Applied Energistics. Engineering-types, those that like
the idea of super-fancy bases with a lot of automation, figuring stuff
out, and learning a new way of thinking are often the kind of people
that end up loving the mods in this category.
Visual mods: We do love Minecraft’s iconic, pared-down, pixely look,
but mods give people the chance to change up the way the
computer represents a Minecraft world onscreen and do it their way.
Sometimes the vision of Minecraft’s visual mod creators is a massive
change to make the vanilla world look beautiful, such as the way
Shaders reconfigure and heavily enhance the lighting system in
Minecraft, and sometimes it’s as simple as adding a way to take
awesome screenshots.

Just look at all the new menus, systems and items that just a couple of mods can
add to Minecraft!

Modloader packs: Modloaders are programs that you can use to

launch big modpacks, which are collections of many mods. These
loaders make the modpacks load smoothly without much input from
the user (at least, that’s the idea), which greatly cuts down on the
work you have to do to mix mods. We’ve separated some mods from
the biggest modloaders out there because many of the world’s most
popular modpacks are held under the umbrella of the two big
modloaders, the Feed the Beast loader and the Technic loader, often
exclusively. This is great for us players, as it means that the experts
working for these loaders keep track of everything for us, making
sure all mods work, are up to date and work well together. Loaders
are both a great place for new mod players to start out, as they
make it easy to get them going, and for mod veterans, as many of
the best and most complex mods are in this category.

Mods of Different Complexity

As we’ve mentioned, not all mods are equal. Some do a lot but are
pretty simple, others are small but complex, and there’s everything
in-between. Because of this, we’ve added a little scale to this book
that quickly tells you how complex a mod is. This is more of a
general guideline to give you info on what to expect, and not a hard-
and-fast technical rating, as people will often vary on what they
think is complex from person to person. The idea is to let you know
at a glance whether adding a mod will take a lot of learning, or
whether it will be a quick and easy addition.
To this end, we’ve rated each mod from 0 to 5 Diamonds, with 0
being the least complicated, and 5 being the most complicated mods
or modpacks that there are.
How To Install Your Mods
Right, so here’s the one tricky bit when it comes to mods: Installing
mods can be a bit of a pain.
Mods are just plain fun, once you get them installed, that is. We
think that the experiences in modded Minecraft are as good as any
others in gaming, bar none, and a lot of people out there agree with
us.

If you’ve done your work right, you should be seeing custom modded versions of
Minecraft just like this one in no time flat!

That being said, getting a mod installed can (but won’t always) take
a bit of work.
Typically it’s not hard at all. Most Minecraft mods are loaded the
same way, and you just have to learn it once to get it forever. Those
kinds of mods go through the Forge program, where you only have
to worry about making sure all mods are for the same version of
Minecraft and that you put the mod into the correct folder.

It’s only a matter of time before you start seeing Minecraft’s world in a whole new
way.

Sometimes, though, it takes a little doing. Each computer is

different, and each situation is unique when getting a mod working,
both for the computer and for the mod. This book and this chapter
can guide you to a point, but it’s so different from one mod to the
next that you always want to read the mod’s instructions on its page
and follow them to the letter. Luckily almost all mod creators include
detailed instructions at the mod’s link, and we’ve included the links
to every mod in this book, so you should be able to easily find each
mod’s specific installation instructions.
Sometimes even that isn’t enough, though, and there’s always the
chance that you might have to ask for help in the Minecraft Forums
or on the mod’s page. Don’t hesitate to do that, though remember
to remain polite. This is also part of the mod culture; mods are made
by fans, so they’re rarely an exact science, and getting mods to run
is a traditional part of the experience for all games, and all gamers
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 "Have no fear, Andrew," answered my mother. "Nothing
is farther from my thoughts than to put my child into such
hands. I would almost as soon have her in the hospital with
poor Lucille."

"I am sure my uncle and aunt seem very kind," said I

rather indignantly, and feeling somehow vexed that Andrew
should say "our Vevette," though he had often done so
before. I was quite dazzled, in truth, by the splendor of
these new relations, who revived in some degree my old
daydreams.

"They are so in their way, but that way is not ours," said
my mother; "and even were the advantages they offer
greater than I think them, I do not believe my child would
wish to leave her mother for their sake."

"Oh, no, no!" I cried, feeling for the moment all I said.
"Not for worlds."

"That is settled, then," said my mother. "And now tell

us, Andrew, where have you been?"

Andrew told us he had been to the naval office, where

he had met an old friend, Mr. Samuel Pepys, with whom,
knowing him to be a man of honor and wise in such
matters, he had taken counsel as to the sale of my mother's
jewels. He said further that Mr. Pepys believed he could find
a merchant who would give good value for the said jewels,
and that the gentleman proposed to bring his wife to visit
us on the morrow, if it would be agreeable.

"I must warn you not to judge him by the outside, for
he is a vain little fellow in some ways," said Andrew,
smiling; "but he is in truth a good man, and his wife is a
bright little body."
 Of course my mother could say no less than that we
should esteem the visit an honor, and the next morning
they came. I had thought my uncle's dress wonderful fine,
but it was nothing to that of Mr. Pepys, though I must say
the latter was both richer in itself and better fancied. His
wife was a pretty, black woman, who spoke French very
nicely, and indeed it was in some sort her native tongue. Mr.
Pepys bought some of my mother's lesser jewels himself,
especially a diamond in a clasp which his wife fancied, and
promised to find a purchaser for the rest—a promise which
he fulfilled to our great advantage.

His conversation was an odd mixture of worldly

shrewdness and an almost childlike simplicity, but I
observed with approval that he did not load his discourse
with oaths as my uncle, and even his wife, had done. On
the whole, I liked our new friends very well, and when he
proposed to carry me out and show me something of the
parks and the city, I looked to my mother rather anxiously
for her approval. She made no objection; so Mr. Pepys came
by and by with his coach (which I fancy he had not
possessed a great while, he seemed so proud of it), and
took us into the park, and there showed us many great
lords and ladies, pointing out to us, with a kind of awful
reverence, my Lady Castlemaine, and some other person of
the same stamp. I saw my mother flush as with indignation
as she said, half to herself:

"And it is in such a world as this that they would have

me leave my child to be brought up!"

"You must not think, madame, that all the ladies about
the court are like these," said Mr. Pepys. "There are many
who bring up their families in all virtue and godly living, like
my good Lady Sandwich and others I could name. But I am
quite of your mind as to Mrs. Genevieve, and if I were so
happy as to be blessed with a daughter, she should, if
possible, grow up in the country. His Majesty is a most
noble prince—Heaven bless him, with all my heart!—but his
example in some things hath done our young people little
good."

It seemed that the merchant to whom we hoped to

dispose of our jewels was out of town, but as he was to
return in a few days, Andrew advised us to wait for him.
Meantime, at their earnest entreaty, we spent a few days
with my uncle and aunt.

My mother indeed passed much of her time in her own

apartment, which, as her widowhood was so recent, no one
could decently object to; but I went out several times with
my aunt to the park, and even to Whitehall, where I saw
the king and queen, and many great people besides. It
seemed that the king had heard something of our story; at
all events, he noticed me, and asking who I was, I was
informally presented to him. There was less formality about
the court at that time than ever has been before or since.
He spoke kindly to me—for he was always kind when it cost
him nothing—asked after my mother, and made me a
compliment on my good looks. I noticed after this, that my
aunt was rather in a hurry to get me away, and she never
took me thither again.

But the mischief was done. All my old daydreams of

wealth and ambition waked to life again, and I began to
indulge them more and more. My conscience did not let me
fall into my old courses without warning me, it is true; but I
began to disregard its teachings, and to repine at the strict
manner in which I had been brought up. I had grown very
handsome since my illness, and I was quite aware of the
fact—as what girl is not? And when I was away from my
mother's side and in my aunt's drawing-room, I received
many flourishing compliments, such as were then in
fashion, from the gallants who visited her.

I soon began to compare my good Andrew with these

fine gentlemen, not at all to his advantage, and I wished, if
it were my fate to marry him, that he had a more genteel
figure, and knew better how to set himself off. My aunt and
uncle did not scruple to say before me that it was a shame I
should so sacrificed—sent down to the country to be
brought up by a set of Puritans, and married to another,
without any chance to raise myself by a good match, as I
might easily do.

"'Tis a poor thing for Andrew, too," I heard my uncle

say one day; "he ought to marry some rich merchant's
daughter, and renew his estate."

"Why do you not tell him so?" asked my aunt. "There is

Mrs. Mary Bakewell, who would jump at the chance of
making herself a lady with her thousands. Truly, she is plain
enough, and something the elder, but she is a good creature
after all. Why not propose it to him?"

"I did," replied my uncle, laughing; "and you should

have seen him. He treated me to a real Cornish thunder-
gust."

"Why, what did he say?" asked my aunt, while I listened

with all my ears, as we say.

"He said he would rather travel the country with an ass

and panniers, selling sand to the old wives, than sell his
manhood for a fortune. I said the lady was a good lady, and
well nurtured, and he answered:

"'So much the worse,' and then added, 'You mean

kindly, I dare say, and I thank you, but I am old-fashioned
enough to desire to love my wife.'"

"He is a rustic, without doubt," returned my lady, with a

little touch of sarcasm in her voice. "I think you may as well
let matters stand as they are, Charles. You will gain nothing
by meddling, and 'tis but a thankless office, educating of
other people's children."

"I believe you may be right," said my uncle, "and yet I

confess I should like to keep the girl."

My aunt made no reply, and the conversation was

dropped. I must say I looked on Andrew with a good deal
more favor after this. It was something to have a servant
(that was the fine phrase at that time) who had refused a
great match for my sake.

Our visit at my uncle's was cut rather short from two

circumstances, I fancy. One was that he was displeased my
mother should have taken Mr. Pepys' advice about selling
her jewels. My lady herself had a fancy for these same
jewels, and would have bought them on credit, which we
could ill afford. Besides which my mother told Andrew and
me that it was not well to have money transactions between
near relatives.

"They are sure to lead to misunderstanding and

coldness, if not to open rupture," said she. "Moreover, from
what I have seen, I believe my brother to be already
embarrassed with debts."

"I know it for a fact," said Andrew; "and I believe you

have done wisely. Mr. Bakewell is now returned, and is
ready to treat with you for the jewels at any time."

"Then we will finish the affair as soon as may be, that

we may turn our faces homeward," replied my mother. "I
long for the sight of green trees and running streams, and,
above all, for a cup of cold water from St. Monica's well. I
can see it now, bubbling up under the ruined arch," she
added musingly, with that far-away look which had lately
come to her eyes. "Some day, Andrew, you must restore
that arch."

"I will," said Andrew, with a certain solemnity, and they

were both silent a moment. Then he added, more
cheerfully, "Then I will tell the good woman at our lodgings
that you will return to-morrow."

"This afternoon," said my mother; and so it was settled.

I believe another reason why my mother was willing to

cut her visit short was that she saw the influence my aunt
and her way were beginning to have upon me. I shall never
forget how she looked at me when, in some fit of
impatience with my work; I gave vent to one of my aunt's
modish oaths. Those of the Religion in France looked upon
all such expressions with as much abhorrence as the
Puritans of England or America.

"Genevieve," said she sternly, "what would your father

say?"

"I did not mean anything," said I, abashed and vexed at

the same time.

"And there is just the fault," returned my mother.

"Against what is the commandment aimed, if not at the use
of sacred names without meaning anything?"

I did not reply, of course, and I was more careful in

future, but inwardly I murmured at my mother's strictness
and Puritanism, as I called it. I had learned this phrase from
my uncle and his friends, with whom everything serious or
reverent was Puritanism.

I should have said that I went to church on Sunday with

my uncle and aunt. I was quite amazed at the splendor of
the church, which had recently been refitted, and delighted
with the service, especially with the chanting and singing.
The sermon also I thought very good, though I did not quite
like the preacher's manner. But if I was pleased with the
clergyman, I was horrified at the manners of the
congregation. I saw the fine ladies and gentlemen bowing
and curtsying to each other, whispering—nay, all but talking
aloud—and passing snuff-boxes and smelling-bottles back
and forth. One of the gentlemen I had seen at my aunt's
the day before, bowed to me as he came in, but I looked
the other way.

"What a gracey sermon—just like a Presbyterian," said

my aunt, yawning, without any disguise, almost before the
congregation was dismissed. "And why did you not curtsy
when Mr. Butler bowed to you? Did you not see him?"

Then I made one of the great mistakes of my life. I

yielded to that miserable shame of doing right, which is the
undoing of so many, and answered, "I was looking another
way."

"Oh, I thought perhaps it was against your principles,"

said my aunt, in that light tone of contempt which always
stung me to the quick. "I know some of our Puritans will not
acknowledge a salute in church. I don't believe my old Lady
Crewe would return a bow from the king himself, if prayers
had begun."

"Yes, she is true to her colors," said my uncle. "I like

her the better for it too," and he sighed a little.
 I heard afterward that he had been a great precisian in
the days of the Protector, though, like many others of the
same sort, he went to the other extreme now. Their fear of
God, like mine own, was taught by the precept of men, and
therefore was easily enough overthrown by the same.

"But you must have your wits about you, child," said my
aunt. "'Tis a dreadfully uncivil thing not to return a salute.
Mr. Butler will think you a little rustic."

I am ashamed to say that I was more troubled at the

thought that Mr. Butler should think me a rustic than at the
lie I had told. When I came to my mother, she asked me of
the sermon, and I told her all I could remember.

"'Tis a great privilege to hear the blessed Word

preached openly to all the people," said my mother, sighing
a little.

"'Tis a privilege a good many do not seem to

appreciate," said Andrew, who had come in as usual to see
my mother; "you should see the king and countess at
church, madame. The Duke of York spent the whole of
sermon-time this morning talking and laughing with some
painted madams or other, through the curtains of the pews.
If my cousin had been the preacher, I believe he would have
spoken to them before all the congregation. What can you
expect when our rulers set such an example?"

"What did the king do?" I asked.

"He was more attentive to the preacher. He is not one

to hurt any one's feelings by incivility, though he would not
care for his going to the rack, so he did not see it."

"Hush, my son!" said my mother reprovingly. "'Tis a

besetting sin of yours to speak evil of dignities."
 Andrew shrugged his shoulders, but he had too much
respect to answer my mother back again.

But I am going back in my story. That very afternoon

we returned to our lodgings. Our friends took leave of us
cordially enough, and my aunt made me several very pretty
presents, especially of a pocket working equipage,
containing scissors, needles, thimble, and other
implements, beautifully wrought, and packed in a very small
compass.

Besides these she gave me a volume of plays and

poems, which last, I am ashamed to say, I did not show to
my mother. My mother presented her with a handsome
clasp of Turkey stones and pearls, and my uncle with a gold
snuff-box, which had belonged to her husband's father, and
had a picture of some reigning beauty—I forget whom—
enamelled on the lid; so we all parted friends.

The next day being Sunday, we went to a French

Protestant church, where the worship was carried on
according to the forms used by us in our own country. There
had been an attempt made in the days of Charles the First
to compel the French Protestants to conform to the Church
of England, but it had not been carried out in the present
reign. Great numbers of the refugees did in fact conform to
the church, and indeed take orders therein, not considering
the differences as essential; but others preferred the ways
they were used to, and these had chapels of their own. It
was to one of these churches, in Threadneedle Street, that
we went; and here a great surprise awaited us.

We were no sooner seated than I began to have that

feeling we have all experienced, that some one was looking
earnestly at me, and turning my head about I saw in the
gallery Simon and Jeanne Sablot. I could hardly believe my
eyes; but there they were, decent as usual, though poorly
dressed enough, and sadly changed since I had seen them
last. Simon's hair was white as snow, and Jeanne's ruddy
cheeks were faded and sunken. They both smiled, and then
Jeanne's face was buried in her hands and her frame
shaken with sobs.

I had no time to direct my mother's attention to them,

for the minister at that moment entered the desk and the
service began. Here was no whispering, no exchange of
salutes or snuff-boxes. Many of those before the preacher
had but just escaped from their enemies, thankful to have
their lives given them for a prey, as the prophet says; and it
was to them a wonderful thing to attend upon their worship
openly and in safety.

It was not the regular minister who preached, but one

who had but lately escaped from the house of bondage, and
was able to give us the latest account of the unhappy
country we had left behind. It was a sad tale of oppressive
edicts, pressing always more and more severely upon our
brethren; of families desolated and scattered; of temples
pulled down and congregations dispersed. There were still
sadder tales to be told, of abjurations and apostasies—some
forced by harshness, others brought about by bribes and
cajolery. Then the preacher changed his tone and spoke of
midnight assemblies, like that of ours in the cellar of the old
grange; of consistories held and discipline administered in
caves and lonely places of the mountains, and of our fallen
brethren coming, with tears and on bended knees,
imploring to be restored to that communion to which to
belong meant shame, imprisonment, and death. The old
man's face shone and his voice rang like a trumpet as he
told of these things, stirring every heart in the assembly,
even mine. I felt miserably ashamed of my late frame of
mind, and resolved that I would forsake the world, and live
for heaven once more.

The sermon was long, but it came to a close at last, and

the Lord's Supper was administered. It was then that my
mother discovered our two old friends. I feared at first that
she would faint, but she recovered herself, and when they
came to us after sermon, she was far calmer and more
collected than they were. She invited them home to our
lodgings, which were not far distant, and they spent the
rest of the day with us.

"How and when did you leave home?" was naturally the
first question.

"About two weeks after the house was burned,

madame," answered Simon.

"It is burned, then," said my mother.

"Oh, yes, madame. The mob plundered it thoroughly

and then set it on fire, and little is left but the shell. A fine
gentleman came down from Paris a few days afterward. He
was very angry at the destruction, and threatened all sorts
of things if the plunder was not brought back, but he
recovered very little. Our house was also set on fire, but
owing to the rains it did not burn, and after a few days we
ventured to return to it and gathered together some few
things. I have a parcel for you, madame, intrusted to my
care by Monsieur, which the wretches did not find. Our small
store of ready money also escaped their hands. David,
whom you know we were expecting, came just then, and
we returned with him to Dieppe, and after a week or two,
he found us a passage to England. As I said, we had a small
store of ready money, but it soon melted away, and though,
by Jeanne's skill in lace-making and mending and my own
work with a market gardener, we have made shift to live, it
has been poorly enough. But why should we complain? We
are in safety, and can worship God according to our
conscience."

"But David!" said I.

"He would not come, mamselle. He is in high favor with

his employer, who protects him, and he says he has so
many opportunities of helping others, that he will not as yet
abandon his post. Besides, he cherishes a hope, though I
believe it is a vain one, of rescuing Lucille."

"Why do you think it a vain one?" I asked.

"Because, mamselle, she does not wish to be rescued.

She has made a profession, as they call it, and we hear she
is high in favor with her superiors, and a willing instrument
in their hands in coaxing or compelling the poor little
children to abjure. We thought it a great mercy when she,
the last of five babes, was spared to us; but now I wish she
had died in the cradle, like the rest."

"She is not yet out of the reach of mercy, my poor

Simon," said my mother. "We must all remember her in our
prayers." She paused, and then added, with a great effort,
"Do you know what became of my husband's body?"

"He rests in peace, madame," answered Sablot. "Jean

La Roche and myself buried him at midnight, by the side of
my own babes, in our orchard. We levelled the ground and
laid back the turf, so that none should suspect."

My mother rose and left the room, making me a sign

not to follow her. When she came back at the end of an
hour she had evidently been weeping bitterly; but she was
now quite calm. She asked many questions about our
servants, our tenants, and neighbors. The maids had all
escaped, in one way or other, he told us. Julienne, he
thought, would conform, as her sweetheart was earnest
with her to do so. Marie had gone to Charenton. Old
Mathew was found dead in the orchard, but without any
marks of violence, and Simon thought he had died of the
shock, as he was a very old man. Of Henri, he knew
nothing.

"And what will you do, my poor friends?" said my

mother. "How can we help you? If I were not going to the
house of another, I would take you with me."

"Oh, we shall do very well, madame," said Jeanne

cheerfully. "I get a great deal of fine washing and mending,
especially of lace, and if Simon could buy some turner's
tools of his own, he might set up a little shop."

"I have a better plan than that," said Andrew. "My

mother writes me that our old gardener is just dead, and
she knows not where to find another. You shall go down to
Cornwall and take his place. As for Jeanne, she can wait
upon madame, and teach old Deborah to make omelettes
and galette. That will be better than living in a dingy street
in London, will it not?"

"May Heaven's blessing rest upon you, my son," said

my mother, while my poor foster-parents could hardly speak
a word, so overpowered were they with the prospect
suddenly opened before them. I was as pleased as my
mother, and at that moment would not have exchanged my
sailor for the finest gallant about the court.

The next day the business of the jewels was finished,

and so favorably for us that we were made quite
independent in point of means. My mother insisted on
Simon's retaining at least half of the package of gold he had
brought away with him, and which he had never broken in
upon in his greatest needs, and Jeanne was soon neatly
dressed in English mourning. In a few days, we embarked
with all our goods, which indeed were not burdensome by
reason of quantity, in a ship going to Plymouth. We had a
short and prosperous voyage, and after resting a day or two
in Plymouth, we took horse for the far more toilsome
journey into Cornwall.

CHAPTER XI.
TRE MADOC.

IT was a toilsome journey. Andrew had taken great

pains to provide easy horses for us, and we carried some
comforts in the way of provisions, biscuits, gingerbread, two
or three flasks of wine, and small packages of coffee, and
one of the new Chinese drink called tea, which had just
begun to come in fashion, and which has now become quite
common, even in tradesmen's families. For this, as for
many other kindnesses, we were indebted to Mr. Pepys and
his good little wife.

We did not travel very rapidly, the roads being bad,

even at this time of the year, and such as in many places
forbade our travelling otherwise than in single file. The
weather was charming—that was one comfort—and the air
as delicious as any I ever breathed in my life. As we crossed
the high moors, we saw abundance of those old heathen
monuments which abound in Normandy, and still more in
Brittany, and once we passed one almost exactly like that
above our orchard, where my father and I had our
memorable conversation.

We stopped for rest and refreshment in little country

towns, and sometimes at lonely inns standing by
themselves, such as would not have been considered very
safe abiding-places in France, and where we should have
been at a loss to make ourselves understood but for Andrew
and the sailor whom he had taken along from Plymouth.
The Cornish tongue, which is now fallen greatly into disuse,
was at that time generally spoken among the common
people. I picked up a good deal of it afterward, but at that
time it was all heathen Greek to me, though my mother
could speak it a little.

I must needs say that, though we must have appeared

as outlandish to them as they did to us, the good folks were
most kind to us, especially when they had heard something
of our story. They would express their sympathy by sighs
and tears, and by bringing out to us the best that they had;
and the men would often leave their work and walk miles
beside us to guide us on our way.

Simon kept up his courage very well, and indeed he

enjoyed the journey; but poor Jeanne's spirits sank lower
and lower, and I think she would have given out altogether
had we not come, on the fifth day, to cultivated fields and
orchards. The sight of these last revived her drooping
courage, and when at last we reached the village of Tre
Madoc, always a neat little place, and passing it came to the
brow of the hill from which we looked down on the house of
Tre Madoc, nestling amid great trees in its south-land valley,
with the clear stream falling in a cascade at the upper end
and rushing down to the sea, she was quite another
woman.

"Is this not beautiful, Jeanne?" said my mother, her

eyes filling with tears as she gazed on the old home, unseen
for so many years.

"It is, madame; I won't deny it, though the house is

nothing in grandeur to the Tour d'Antin. And the cottages do
look snug and comfortable; but after all it is not France!"

"No, it is not France: don't you wish it were?" said I.

"How nice it would be to see a party of dragoons coming
after us over the hill, and to be afraid to pass yonder
tumbling old cross lest some one should see that we did not
bow to it!"

I am conscious that I spoke these words all the more

sharply because I was myself dreadfully homesick—not for
France so much as for London, with which I had fallen in
love, though I had begun by disliking it so much. I had had
a taste of that life of which I had so often dreamed, and I
found the cup too sweet to wish to have that taste the only
one.

My mother looked at me in surprise, but she had no

time to speak the reproof which her eyes uttered. It seemed
that we were expected and watched for. We saw a little lad,
who had been sitting with his dog and clapper watching the
birds, leave his occupation and run down toward the house,
and presently an elderly lady, surrounded by three or four
young ones, came out upon the porch.

"There are my mother and sisters," said Andrew "and,"

he added to me, in a lower tone, "your mother, too,
Vevette! I hope you will love her."

"I am sure I shall," I tried to answer graciously, though

I felt inwardly vexed. I always was provoked when Andrew
said any such thing implying a kind of property in me.

I felt an unaccountable shyness of these new relatives,

such as I had not been conscious of either in Jersey or
London, and I wished the meeting with them could be
postponed. But our tired beasts now put themselves into
brisk motion, rejoicing, poor creatures, in the thought of
rest and food. We descended the hill, passed through a
short avenue of nut-trees, and came out before the same
porch, overgrown with ivy and a groat Virginia vine, as we
used to call it, and found ourselves in presence of our
friends.

Andrew sprang from his horse and assisted my mother

and myself to dismount. The older lady clasped my mother
in her arms.

"Dearest sister Margaret," said she, kissing her on both

cheeks, "welcome home! It is a happy day that sees you
enter your father's house once more. And this is my new
daughter. Heaven bless you, my love! I have a flock of
maidens, as you see, but there is plenty of room for one
more. And who are these?" Turning to Simon and Jeanne,
who had also dismounted and stood modestly in the
background.

My mother explained matters, and our poor friends

were welcomed in their turn and committed to the care of a
very nice old woman, to be made comfortable, while one of
half a dozen old blue-coated serving-men led away our
horses and attended to our luggage.

Then we were conveyed into a parlor, a large low room

wainscoted with cedar and hung with handsome though
faded needlework. Here we were relieved of our riding gear
and presented to our other cousins, of whom I was too tired
and confused to see aught but that Betty was small and
dark, Margaret tall and fair, and Rosamond very much like
somebody I had known, I could not say whom.

"But you are both tired with your long journey, I am

sure," said my aunt, after the first greetings had been
exchanged. "Rosamond and Betty shall show you your
lodgings, and when you have refreshed yourselves we will
meet at supper. I have given you the gilded room,
Margaret, and to Agnes—or do you call her Genevieve?—the
little chamber over the porch beside it. I might have given
you a more sumptuous apartment, my dear," she added,
turning to me; "though indeed we are but plain country
folks at best; but the porch room hath a pleasant lookout,
and I thought you would like to be near your mother."

I murmured something, I hardly knew what, and my

mother answered for me. "Vevette is not used to luxury, my
dear sister, and the porch room is good enough for any
young maid. May I ask you to send Jeanne to me? She will
feel herself very strange, I fear."

"She shall attend you directly," answered my aunt; "and

glad I am that two such confessors for the faith should find
a shelter under this roof."

"Take heed to the steps," said Rosamond, as we came

to the foot of the staircase; "they are somewhat slippery."

That they were, being of dark oak, and polished like

glass with age and much scrubbing. However, I was used to
polished floors, and so did not get a fall. We traversed a
long gallery hung with pictures, and came to my mother's
room, which was large and low. Above the wainscot, the
walls were covered with old-fashioned stamped and gilded
leather, such as one seldom sees now. The bed was of
needlework, with wondrous white and fine linen—a matter
in which we Corbets have always been particular. There was
a small Turkey carpet on the floor, and quite a fine Venice
glass, with branches, handsomer than that in my aunt's
dressing-room in London. I thought the room as pretty as
any one I had ever seen. Indeed, the whole house was
finished with a richness uncommon in remote country
houses at that day, for the men of the family, taking
naturally to a seafaring life, had brought home from abroad
many articles of luxury and beauty.

My own room was by far the prettiest I had ever

inhabited, even at any aunt's house in London. It was partly
over the porch, as my aunt had said, and had a kind of
projecting window which commanded a lovely view of the
sea and the shore. The bed was small and hung with white,
and there was a queer old cabinet or chest of drawers,
which reminded me at once of Jeanne's cherished bahut,
which she often sighed over.
 "That cabinet came from the south of France, they say,"
said Rosamond, seeing my eyes fixed upon it. "My
grandfather brought it home for a present to his wife."

"There she goes," said Betty, laughing. "Rosamond

knows the history of every old piece of furniture and
tapestry and every old picture and sampler in the old
house, and will retail them to you by the hour, if you care to
listen to her. They are all precious relics in her eyes."

"I am sure I shall care," said I, seeing that Rosamond

looked a little dashed. "I love things that have histories, and
that old cabinet is so like one that my poor foster-mother
used to have, that I fell in love with it in a moment; I think
Rosamond and I will agree finely."

It was now Betty's turn to look a little vexed, but her

face cleared up directly.

"You will have abundance of entertainment, then, for

the house is a museum of old furniture and oddities. But
this old tabernacle is a convenient affair. Here are empty
drawers, as you see, and a place to write, and in this large
drawer you will find clean towels and napkins as you want
them. Come, Rosamond, let us leave Agnes to dress herself.
I am sure she must feel the need of it."

I did indeed need such a refreshment, after my long

ride. My mail was already in the room, and it was with
considerable satisfaction that I arrayed myself in one of the
new frocks which had been made for me in London, and
which, as I could not but be aware, set off to considerable
advantage my slender, erect figure. Then, very well satisfied
with myself, I went into my mother's room, where I found
Jeanne, much refreshed in mind and body, and disposed to
regard her new home with more favorable eyes. My mother
was already dressed, and, seated in a great chair covered
with needlework flowers in faded silks, was directing Jeanne
in the unpacking of her mail and the disposition of her
clothes.

"You look well, my child," said she, holding out her hand
to me. "Have not the lines fallen to us in pleasant places?
Even Jeanne admits that the Cornish folk are Christian
people, since, though they cannot speak French, they know
how to make cider."

"And very good cider too, madame," answered Jeanne;

"and though I think them not very polite to smile at the
English which I learned so well to speak in London, yet one
must not expect too much of them, living as they do at the
very world's end. Why, they tell me, at least that old sailor
did, there is absolutely no land between the shore yonder
and that savage country of America. Do you think that can
be true, madame? It makes one almost afraid."

"It is quite true, my Jeanne; but I see no cause for

fear," answered my mother, smiling. "Some of our own
people have settled in America, and are prospering well. We
have even relatives abiding there. My husband and I have
sometimes talked of the possibility of going thither
ourselves. Is not this a pretty place, my Vevette?"

"Yes, maman, very pretty, only—" and here I stopped;

for something choked me, and I felt a great disposition to
cry.

"Only it is all strange and new, and my little one is

overwrought," said my mother, kissing me. "I forget it is not
a home-coming to you as to me. Yet I hope you will try to
be happy here," she added, regarding me wistfully.
 "Indeed I will, dear maman," I answered, making a
great effort to control myself, and succeeding pretty well. "I
think the house is beautiful, especially this room and my
own; and only think, Mother Jeanne, there is a bahut
almost like yours, and my cousin Rosamond says it came
from the south of France. Perhaps it was made by the same
man."

"That could hardly be, mamselle, for my great-

grandfather made mine. He was a skilful man, I have heard
say, and made many beautiful pieces for great houses."

"Then why not this one? Go and look at it," said I.

Jeanne obeyed, and soon came back in great

excitement.

"It was—it really was made by my great-grandfather,

madame!" she cried. "There are the two doves pecketting
on the top just the same, and the very sign—the olive-leaf
marked with a circle—which he used to put on all his work.
Is it not wonderful, madame? Is it not a good omen?"

And again she went back to examine the cabinet, and I

followed her, listening with interest while she pointed out
the maker's sign carved here and there upon the doors and
drawers, and the peculiar beauty of the steel hinges and
locks.

This little incident diverted my mind and put me into

better spirits, and when Rosamond came to call us to
supper, I was ready to meet her with a smile. The meal was
served in another room from that we had seen before—a
high-arched room with a gallery crossing one end, which
was situated—so Rosamond told me—in the older part of
the house, and was formerly the great hall. The meal was
well served, and seemed wonderfully abundant, though I
was growing accustomed to English profusion in the matter
of eating and drinking. I could not but admire the white,
glossy sheen of the damask cloth and napkins, and the
beautiful china dishes, more beautiful than any I had ever
seen. China collecting was a great passion then, and my
aunt in London would have given one of her little pink ears
for the curious standard dish full of early strawberries which
adorned the supper table, or the tall jug crowned with
frothy whipped cream beside it.

We young ones were more or less silent, of course,

while my mother and my Aunt Amy talked about old times,
and who was dead, and whose son had married which one's
daughter, and all the rest of the chat which goes on when
old neighbors come together. My dear mother was—no
disparagement to her either—a bit of a gossip; though, as
we had few friends among our French neighbors, she had
had little opportunity of indulging her tastes; but now she
grew more animated and interested than I had ever seen
her, in hearing all the news my Aunt Amy had to tell.

"And what about our cousins at Stanton?" asked my

mother presently. "From what Andrew tells me, I suppose
the present lady is not much like the one I knew."

"No more than chalk is like cream cheese," answered

Aunt Amy. "Yet she is a good lady, too, and a kind
stepmother to the lad who is left, though she had two
daughters of her own when she married my lord."

"And what like are they?"

"Nay, that you must ask Andrew. He has seen more of

them than I have."

"Theo is well enough," said Andrew. "She is a merry

girl, who cares not much for anything but pleasure and
finery, but she is good-natured at least. Martha is a girl of
another stamp. I pity the man who marries her. She hath
far more mind than Theo, but such a temper! Disagree with
her ever so little—do but dare to like what she hates or
know something she does not—and she is your enemy for
life."

"Gently, gently, my son," said his mother, with a little

laugh. "What hath poor Martha done to you?"

"Nothing to me, mother, but I have seen enough of her

doings to others. I believe there is but one person in the
world she stands in awe of—her mother—and but one she
loves—her half-brother, the young lord. I do think she cares
for him."

"Ah, well!" said my aunt easily. "If she has such a

temper, it brings its own punishment."

"And the punishment of a good many others also,

unluckily," said Andrew, and then the conversation turned to
other things.

After supper Andrew proposed that we should go up and

see the gardens. The elders preferred sitting in the house,
but we young ones went out, after proper injunctions to
keep moving and not to stay out after the dew began to fall.
Gardening, it appeared, had also been a fashion with these
curious Corbets, who seem to me from the earliest records
to have made their homes as pleasant as possible, only to
run as far-away from them as the limits of the world would
allow. The flower-beds were in their spring beauty, and
were filled with rare plants and flowers, which I never saw
anywhere else.

The climate of Cornwall is very mild, so that the myrtle

grows to a great size out of doors, and many tender trees
flourish which will not live at all about London. I particularly
admired a tall shrub With red-veined leaves and covered
with little scarlet bells in immense profusion, and asked its
name.

"I cannot tell you that," said Andrew. "My father

brought it from the West Indies, where it grows very large.
This other bush, with bright scarlet flowers and broad
leaves, is from the Cape of Good Hope, but it will bear no
frost, so we take it in, in the winter."

"What great rosemary and lavender plants!" said I.

"They make me think of what Jeanne has told me about
Provence, where they grow wild."

"They do fairly well, though the place is damp for them.

See, yonder is a tulip-tree. Is it not a grand one? The
Americans make great use of the wood, which, though soft,
is very lasting for some purposes."

"What a pity to cut down such beautiful trees!" said I.

Andrew laughed.

"Trees are the great enemies over there," said he. "It
did look terribly wasteful to me to see great logs of bard
maple, chestnut, and oak, rolled into heaps and burned in
the field, just to get rid of them."

"What a shame!" said Betty. "Why not at least give

them to the poor for fuel. Goody Penaluna would be glad
enough of such a log."

"If Goody Penaluna were there, she would have wood

enough for the asking," replied Andrew. "One can hardly
say there are any poor, for though they have often had hard
times enough, yet it mostly comes share and share alike."
 "I believe Andrew hath a hankering after those same
colonies in his secret soul," said Betty. "You will find yourself
transplanted thither some time or other, Agnes."

Again I felt annoyed. I did not know why.

"Do not call me Agnes; call me Vevette," said I. "That is

the name I have always been used to."

"But Agnes is so much prettier. Vevette is like a

nickname," objected Betty.

"It is a sort of pet name, I suppose—short for

Genevieve," remarked Margaret. "If Vevette likes it best,
she certainly has a right to choose."

"But it is French," objected Betty again, "and she is an

English girl now. I am quite sure mother would prefer to
have her called Agnes, and Andrew too; wouldn't you,
Andrew?"

"I should prefer that she should have her own way in
the matter," answered Andrew shortly, and there the
discussion ended for the time; but we were no sooner in the
house than Betty began it again, appealing to her mother to
say if it would not be much better for me to be called by my
English name now I was come to live in England.

"That is for her mother to say," replied Aunt Amy. "I

presume she will prefer to call her by the name she has
been used to."

"I certainly shall prefer to do so, and to have others do

so," said my mother. "The name of Agnes was never a
favorite of mine."
 Betty said no more, but she never lost an opportunity of
calling me Agnes, till I took to calling her Elizabeth, to
which name she had a special aversion.

The next morning and for many succeeding days my

mother was very unwell, and I naturally spent most of my
time with her in her apartment, which was at some little
distance from the rest of the house. Jeanne attended on
her, and Simon worked in the garden, taking great pleasure
in the variety of plants and flowers he found there. He got
on very well with his fellow-servants, being of a quiet and
sober disposition. He did not at all disturb himself when
laughed at for his mistakes in English, but only laughed
back, or contented himself with quietly correcting his
mistake. But Jeanne's southern blood was more easily
stirred, and she more than once came to my mother
declaring that she could endure her life no longer.

Betty used to take pleasure in teasing her, as indeed

she did every one who came within her reach, except her
mother and Andrew, of whom she stood in awe. She and I
had more than one encounter, in which I can safely say that
she met her match, and she did not like me the better for
it; but Rosamond was her especial butt, and she made the
poor girl's life miserable. Rosamond was of a studious turn
of mind, and loved nothing so much as to get away by
herself, with a great chronicle, or with her French or Latin
books. It was a somewhat uncommon disposition at that
time, when the education of women was much neglected,
even more than it is now. But the Corbets have always been
rather a bookish race, and Rosamond was a true Corbet in
all things. She loved acquiring new ideas above any other
pleasure in the world. She made Simon tell her all about
Normandy and Brittany, and there were several old sailors
in the village to whose tales of foreign parts she was
delighted to listen for hours, albeit I fear they were
sometimes more romantic than reliable.

Aunt Amy never interfered with this taste of

Rosamond's, but allowed her to read as much as she
pleased, though she never cared to open a book herself.
Margaret was Rosamond's champion in all things, though
she thought so much reading a waste of time; but Betty
was always tormenting the poor girl, hiding her books,
destroying her collections of dried plants and shells, and
laughing at and exaggerating the mistakes which she now
and then made in her preoccupation. I must say that in
general Rosamond bore all with the utmost sweetness, but
now and then she would fly into a passion. Then Betty
would provoke her more and more till she succeeded in
driving Rosamond into a burst of passionate crying, which
generally ended in a fit of the mother, which brought my
aunt on the scene.

Then Betty would be all sweetness and soothing

attentions to the sufferer, bringing everything she could
think of to relieve her, and affecting to pity and pet her till,
if it had been me, I am sure I should have boxed her ears.
Aunt Amy never saw through these manœuvres, but when
Rosamond recovered, she would talk to her seriously about
the necessity of governing her temper, and Rosamond
would listen humbly and meekly promise to try and do
better. There was always more real worth in her little finger
than there was in Betty's whole person, but her timidity and
absent-minded ways often made her appear at a
disadvantage.

She and my mother were soon great friends, and she

used to bring her precious books to our apartment, where
Betty dared not intrude. Here she would read aloud to us
for hours, or practise her French and Italian with maman
and myself. She spoke them both horribly, but was very
desirous to improve, and made great progress.

Margaret also joined in the French lessons, but she had

a great many other things on her hands. She took a good
deal of the care of housekeeping off her mother. She visited
the poor in the village, and worked for them, and she had
taken upon herself a kind of supervision of the dame school,
which furnished all the education for the village of Tre
Madoc. Old Dame Penberthy, who taught or rather kept it,
had not been a very good scholar in her best days, I
imagine, and she was now old and half blind. The little
children were sent to her to be kept out of mischief, and
taken away as soon as they were fit for any sort of work.
Some of the brightest of them learned enough to pick out,
with much stammering, a chapter in the Testament, and
these were the dame's best scholars, whom she exhibited
with great pride.

Margaret, however, had lately taken the school in hand,

moved thereto by something she had read, and also by
Andrew's wish for a better state of things. He had seen in
the American colonies day-schools established for all sorts
of children, and he wished for something of the same sort
at Tre Madoc. So Margaret had persuaded the dame to take
home an orphan grandniece, a clever girl who had lived a
while at the court, and the old woman easily fell into the
way of letting this girl, Peggy Mellish by name, have most of
the charge of the school.

Margaret herself went every other day, to inspect the

sewing and spinning, and to hear the children say their
horn-book and teach them their Belief and Commandments.
* By and by she would have me join her in this work. I was
fond of walking and of children; my mother and Andrew
favored the plan, and so I took hold of it with great zeal,
and after a few visits along with Margaret to learn her ways,
I even took charge of the school on alternate days, and
soon knew as much about the families of the children, their
wants and ways, as Margaret herself.

* A horn-book was a printed sheet containing the

alphabet and some other lessons, protected from moist
little lingers by a sheet of transparent horn.

Thus it came to pass that Betty was in a manner left out

in the cold. It was her own fault, I must needs say, for she
laughed equally at Meg's and my teaching and Rosamond's
learning; but she was not any more pleased for that; and
so, partly from idleness, partly for revenge, she set herself
to make mischief between Andrew and me. But I must put
off the relation to another chapter.

CHAPTER XII.
MISCHIEF.