FERN'S HOLLOW
By HESBA STRETTON
Author of 'Jessica's First Prayer,' 'Alone in London' 'Pilgrim Street,''Little Meg's Children' etc.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.--THE HUT IN THE HOLLOW
CHAPTER II.--THE DYING FATHER
CHAPTER III.--STEPHEN'S FIRST VICTORY
CHAPTER IV.--THREATENING CLOUDS
CHAPTER V.--MISS ANNE
CHAPTER VI.--THE RED GRAVEL PIT
CHAPTER VII.--POOR SNIP
CHAPTER VIII.--STEPHEN AND THE GAMEKEEPER
CHAPTER IX.--HOMELESS
CHAPTER X.--THE CABIN ON THE CINDER-HILL
CHAPTER XI.--STEPHEN AND THE RECTOR
CHAPTER XII.--VISIT OF BLACK BESS
CHAPTER XIII.--THE OLD SHAFT
CHAPTER XIV.--A BROTHER'S GRIEF
CHAPTER XV.--RENEWED CONFLICT
CHAPTER XVI.--SOFTENING THOUGHTS
CHAPTER XVII.--A NEW CALLING
CHAPTER XVIII.--THE PANTRY WINDOW
CHAPTER XIX.--FIRE! FIRE!
CHAPTER XX.--STEPHEN'S TESTIMONY
CHAPTER XXI.--FORGIVENESS
CHAPTER XXII.--THE MASTER'S DEATHBED
CHAPTER XXIII.--THE HOME RESTORED
STORIES BY HESBA STRETTON.
FERN'S HOLLOW
CHAPTER I.
THE HUT IN THE HOLLOW.
Just upon the border of Wales, but within one of the English counties,there is a cluster of hills, rising one above the other in gradualslopes, until the summits form a long, broad tableland, many milesacross. This tableland is not so flat that all of it can be seen at once,but here and there are little dells, shaped like deep basins, which thecountry folk call hollows; and every now and then there is a rock orhillock covered with yellow gorse bushes, from the top of which can beseen the wide, outspread plains, where hundreds of sheep and ponies arefeeding, which belong to the farmers and cottagers dwelling in the valleybelow. Besides the chief valley, which divides the mountains into twogroups, and which is broad enough for a village to be built in, there arelong, narrow glens, stretching up into the very heart of the tableland,and draining away the waters which gather there by the melting of snow inthe winter and the rain of thunderstorms in summer. Down every glen flowsa noisy mountain stream, dashing along its rocky course with so many tinywaterfalls and impatient splashes, that the gurgling and bubbling ofbrooks come up even into the quietness of the tableland and mingle withthe singing of the birds and the humming of the bees among the heather.There are not many paths across the hills, except the narrow sheep-walksworn by the tiny feet of the sheep as they follow one another in long,single lines, winding in and out