Fern Leaves from Fanny's Port-folio.

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Fern Fanny. Fern Leaves from Fanny's Port-folio.

PREFACE

SHADOWS AND SUNBEAMS

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VII

CHAPTER VIII

AUNT HEPSY

THOUGHTS AT CHURCH

THE BROTHERS

CURIOUS THINGS

THE ADVANTAGES OF A HOUSE IN A FASHIONABLE SQUARE

WINTER IS COMING

“THE OTHER SEX.”

SOLILOQUY OF MR. BROADBRIM

WILLY GREY

TABITHA TOMPKINS’ SOLILOQUY

SOLILOQUY OF A HOUSEMAID

CRITICS

FORGETFUL HUSBANDS

SUMMER FRIENDS

HOW THE WIRES ARE PULLED: OR,WHAT PRINTER’S INK WILL DO

WHO WOULD BE THE LAST MAN?

“ONLY A COUSIN.”

THE CALM OF DEATH

MRS. ADOLPHUS SMITH SPORTING THE “BLUE STOCKING.”

CECILE VRAY

SAM SMITH’S SOLILOQUY

LOVE AND DUTY

A FALSE PROVERB

A MODEL HUSBAND

HOW IS IT?

A MORNING RAMBLE

HOUR-GLASS THOUGHTS

BOARDING HOUSE EXPERIENCE

A GRUMBLE FROM THE (H)ALTAR

A WICK-ED PARAGRAPH

MISTAKEN PHILANTHROPY

INSIGNIFICANT LOVE

A MODEL MARRIED MAN

MEDITATIONS OF PAUL PRY, JUN

SUNSHINE AND YOUNG MOTHERS

UNCLE BEN’S ATTACK OF SPRING FEVER, AND HOW HE GOT CURED

THE AGED MINISTER VOTED A DISMISSION

THE FATAL MARRIAGE

FRANCES SARGEANT OSGOOD

BEST THINGS

THE VESTRY MEETING

A BROADWAY SHOP REVERIE

“THE OLD WOMAN.”

SUNDAY MORNING AT THE DIBDINS

ITEMS OF TRAVEL

NEWSPAPER-DOM

HAVE WE ANY MEN AMONG US?

HOW TO CURE THE BLUES

RAIN IN THE CITY

MRS. WEASEL’S HUSBAND

COUNTRY SUNDAY vs. CITY SUNDAY

SOBER HUSBANDS

OUR STREET

WHEN YOU ARE ANGRY

LITTLE BESSIE; OR, MISS PRIM’S MODEL SCHOOL

THE DELIGHTS OF VISITING

HELEN HAVEN’S “HAPPY NEW YEAR.”

DOLLARS AND DIMES

OUR NELLY

“STUDY MEN, NOT BOOKS.”

“MURDER OF THE INNOCENTS;” OR, HOME THE PLACE FOR MARRIED FOLKS

AMERICAN LADIES

THE STRAY SHEEP

THE FASHIONABLE PREACHER

“CASH.”1

ONLY A CHILD

MR. PIPKIN’S IDEAS OF FAMILY RETRENCHMENT

A CHAPTER FOR NICE OLD FARMERS

MADAME ROUILLON’S “MOURNING SALOON.”

FASHION IN FUNERALS

HOUSEHOLD TYRANTS

WOMEN AND MONEY

THE SICK BACHELOR

A MOTHER’S INFLUENCE

MR. PUNCH MISTAKEN

FERN MUSINGS

THE TIME TO CHOOSE

SPRING IS COMING

STEAMBOAT SIGHTS AND REFLECTIONS

A GOTHAM REVERIE

SICKNESS COMES TO YOU IN THE CITY

HUNGRY HUSBANDS

LIGHT AND SHADOW; OR, WHO IS RESPONSIBLE?

A MATRIMONIAL REVERIE

WHAT LOVE WILL ACCOMPLISH

MRS. GRUMBLE’S SOLILOQUY

HENRY WARD BEECHER

AN OLD MAID’S DECISION

A PUNCH AT “PUNCH.”

FATHER TAYLOR, THE SAILOR’S PREACHER

SIGNS OF THE TIMES

WHOM DOES IT CONCERN?

“WHO LOVES A RAINY DAY?”

A CONSCIENTIOUS YOUNG MAN

CITY SCENES AND CITY LIFE. NUMBER ONE

CITY SCENES AND CITY LIFE. NUMBER TWO

CITY SCENES AND CITY LIFE. NUMBER THREE

CITY SCENES AND CITY LIFE. NUMBER FOUR

TWO PICTURES

FEMININE WAITERS AT HOTELS

LETTER TO THE EMPRESS EUGENIA

MUSIC IN THE NATURAL WAY

FOR LADIES THAT “GO SHOPPING.”

MODERN IMPROVEMENTS

THE OLD MERCHANT WANTS A SITUATION

A MOVING TALE

THIS SIDE AND THAT

MRS. ZEBEDEE SMITH’S PHILOSOPHY

OPENING OF THE CRYSTAL PALACE

A LANCE COUCHED FOR THE CHILDREN

A CHAPTER ON HOUSEKEEPING

BARNUM’S MUSEUM

A FERN REVERIE

APOLLO HYACINTH

SPOILED LITTLE BOY

A “BROWN STUDY” – SUGGESTED BY BROWN VAILS

INCIDENT AT THE FIVE POINTS HOUSE OF INDUSTRY

NANCY PRY’S SOLILOQUY

FOR LITTLE CHILDREN

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I can see it now: the little brown house, with its sloping roof, its clumsy old chimneys, and its vine-clad porch; where the brown bee hummed his drowsy song, and my silver-haired old father sat dozing the sultry summer noons away, with shaggy Bruno at his feet. The bright earth had no blight or mildew then for me. The song of the little birds, resting beneath the eaves, filled my heart with a quiet joy. It was sweet, when toil was over, to sit in the low door-way, and watch the golden sun go down, and see the many-tinted clouds fade softly away (like a dying saint) into the light of heaven, and evening’s glittering star glow, like a seraph’s eye, above them. ’Twas sweet, when Autumn touched the hill-side foliage with rainbow dyes, to see the gorgeous leaves come circling down on the soft Indian-summer breeze. ’Twas sweet, when the tripping, silver stream lay still and cold in Winter’s icy clasp, and the flowers fainted beneath his chilly breath, and the leafless trees stretched out their imploring arms, and shook off, impatiently, their snowy burthen, and the heavy wagon-wheels went creaking past, and the ruddy farmer struck his brawny arms across his ample chest, for warmth, and goaded the lazy, round-eyed oxen up the icy hill. Even then, it was sunshine still, in the little brown house: in the ample chimney glowed and crackled the blazing faggots; rows of shining pans glittered upon the shelves; the fragrant loaf steamed in the little oven; the friendly tea-kettle, smoking, sang in the chimney corner, and by its side still sat the dear old father, with the faithful newspaper, that weekly brought us news from the busy world, from which our giant forest-trees had shut us out.

Ah! those were happy days: few wants and no cares: the patriarch’s head was white with grave blossoms, yet his heart was fresh and green. Alas! that, under the lowliest door-way, as through the loftiest portal, the Guest unbidden cometh. The morning sun rose fair, but it shone upon silver locks that stirred with no breath of life, upon loving lips forever mute, upon a palsied, kindly hand that gave no returning pressure. Soon, over the heart so warm and true, the snow lay white and cold; the winter wind sang its mournful requiem, and from out the little brown house, the orphan passed with tearful gaze and lingering footstep.

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“Betsey,” said my uncle, “we shall want you at home now. It will be impossible for me to get along without you, unless I hire a hand, and times are too hard for that: so you must leave school. You’ve a good home here, for which you ought to be thankful, as I’ve told you before; but you must work, girl, work! Some how or other the money goes;” (and he pulled out the old pocket-bock;) “here’s my grocer’s bill – two shillings for tea, and three shillings for sugar; can’t you do with out sugar, Hetty? And here’s a dollar charged for a pair of India rubbers. A dollar is a great deal of money, Hetty; more than you could earn in a month. And here’s a shilling for a comb; now that’s useless, you might cut your hair off. It won’t do – won’t do. I had no idea of the additional expense when I took you in. Josiah ought to have left you something no man has a right to leave his children for other people to support; ’tisn’t Christian. I’ve been a professor these twenty years, and I ought to know. I don’t know as you have any legal claim on me because you are my niece. Josiah was thriftless and extravagant. I suppose ’tis in your blood, too, for I can’t find out that you have begun to pay your way by any chores you have done here. If you must live on us, (and I can’t say that I see the necessity,) I repeat, I wish you had been born a boy.”

“But as I am not a boy, Uncle, and as I do not wish to be a burthen to you, will you tell me how to support myself?”

.....