CHAPTER I. A PLEASANT WELCOME. and BEULAH MORRIS. It is not a pretty name, yet Beulah was a very pretty girl, and a nice girl too, and as well beloved as if her name had been Isabella, Araminta, or Sophonisba. It was sunset, a beautiful sunset in June. Beulah was gathering roses. She held the two corners of her white apron in one hand, and with a pair of scissors in the other carefully cut red and white roses into it. The front-yard was filled with flowers that Beulah cultivated, and yet it was not a sweet little cottage before which they grew, but a large, square farm-house, a red house; there were only two white houses in Baxter, the minister's and the doctor's. The town of Baxter was named after that man of blessed memory, whose "last words" were so precious, that after his death, they continued to a pole with "the moss-covered bucket" at one end, and a large stone at the other. The old brown houses are two stories in front, and behind slope almost down to the ground; but Squire Morris's house was a red one, and the rose-bushes had been sent from a distance, many years before, by the Squire's cousin. Beulah, while filling her white apron, repeated those sweet lines written by Mary Howitt ; "God might have made the earth bring forth Enough for great and small, The oak-tree and the cedar-tree, And not a flower at all." Mrs. Morris care to the door. 66 Beulah, my child," said she, "why do you cut so many flowers? you know I want them for rose-water." "You spared them this morning, mother, and told me I might have my apron-full; see, it is only just full," replied Beulah, showing her heaped-up treasures; "and you know, as the bushes were sent us by Mrs. Whately, it is no more than right that she should enjoy as many of the roses as she can. See, mother, how beautiful they are. I cannot think they were only made for rose-water, for we might have had that, 'And not a flower at all.'" "You are a queer child, Beulah, a very queer child. And what are you going to do with the roses?" "Ornament the white room, the nice spare chamber, for Mrs. Whately," replied the little girl. "And be laughed at, as a silly little countrygirl, for your pains," said the mother. Beulah could not think so. "The lady would not have sent them so far for a present," said she, "if she did not love roses." "She knew they were good for rose-water; but follow your own notion," said Mrs. Morris. While Beulah flew to the spare chamber to arrange the roses, Mrs. Morris spread her suppertable; cold ham stood in friendly nearness to sweetmeats, and pickles kept their sourness to themselves by the side of cakes and pies; the - broiled chickens, toast, and hot potatoes waited for the arrival of the visiter. Squire Morris now came in from the labors of the farm, followed by two stout lads, his sons. "Well, wife, all in order?-that's right,dressed in your Sunday best; I don't think I shall make much change myself,- only try to be a little neater. There's no comfort in being untidy. Azariah and Medad, if you are ashamed of your every-day clothes, you can rig up a little." Azariah did not choose to take the trouble, but Medad went to put on his Sunday suit. While the Squire was performing his ablutions, a plain but handsome carriage, with a pair of sleek black horses, drove up to the door, and all the way down the front-yard to the gate went the Squire, vigorously wiping hands and face. From the carriage stepped a lady of about thirty-five. "Well now, cousin Whately, this is kind, to come so far to see us," said the Squire, giving the lady a hearty kiss. Then, seeing there was a very gaily dressed person in the coach, he said, "Is n't the other lady going to get out?" Mrs. Whately said, in a low tone, “That is one of my domestics;" then, addressing the coachman, |