CHAPTER I.

Many of the noblest lives have been lived in obscurity and in poverty. Nobility and virtue are never dependent upon surroundings. And when you have read the simple little chronicle which I am about to relate, I think you will agree with me that even though humble and retiring, the subject of this sketch was one of nature's own heroines.

In a little cottage in Bravon, Lees-Mersem, England, lived an old lady named Harris. She was given to study although very meagrely educated. She was feeble and sat a great deal of her time poring over her Bible.

One day her granddaughter came to visit her, bringing her little daughter, Mary, with her. The old lady had been reading her Bible, and as her daughter came in she said:

"My dear, I have been reading some of the great prophecies concerning the last days, and I feel sure that either you or yours will live to see many of them fulfilled."

"Not so, grandmother," answered the woman, whose name was Mrs. Dunster, "thou wast always visionary; put by such thoughts. Our religion's good enough for the like of us."

The old lady arose, unheeding her granddaughter's warm reply, and placing her hands on the little girl's head, said solemnly:

"Here's Mary; she shall grow up and wander away from you all and break her bread in different nations."

The solemnity of her great-grandmother's manner and the peculiar spirit that accompanied the words made a vivid impression on the little girl's mind. How well that strange prophecy has been fulfilled you and I, my reader, can tell hereafter.

The little girl, whose name was Mary Dunster, and who was born in Lympne, Kent, December 26, 1818, grew up and when sixteen years of age was asked in marriage by William Chittenden, who was a laborer on an adjoining farm. She did not feel very willing, but the young man urged her so warmly that she hesitated before refusing him. She had always had an irresistible desire to go to America, where many emigrants were then going from England.

At last she consented to be his wife on one condition: that he would take her to America. Very bravely promised the lover, but not until forty-two years afterwards did he fulfill that promise.

After they were married they settled down to work and lived, William as farm laborer, in Lympne for four years. Two children were born to them in this place, Mary Ann, born June 15, 1836, and Henry, born August 18, 1838.

Four years after their marriage, at which time the introduction of convicts into Australia was prohibited and the government of England offered good inducement to skilled laborers to settle up the country, William Chittenden concluded to go to Australia. Previous to this time the English convicts, who were under life sentence, had been sent down to Australia, landing generally at Botany Bay. These convicts were brought down and sold as life slaves to those freeholders who were willing and able to purchase their labor. Sometimes they escaped from their masters and made their way into the interior of the country. These escaped convicts herded together in small parties or bands, and are called "bush-rangers." They have now become a powerful tribe, fierce, vindictive and unlawful. They resemble very nearly, in occupation and temperament, the wild Bedouins of Asia and the wild tribes of Arabs or Berbers of northern Africa.

Between the years of 1840 and 1850, England transported many skilled laborers and artizans to Australia to build up and colonize her possessions in the southern seas. Numbers of the husband's countrymen were going down to the "new country," and he resolved to go too. Mary objected; she wanted to go to America. I think, between you and me, that she used sometimes to remind her husband sharply of his unfulfilled promise. But his was a calm, kind, but essentially self-willed disposition, that listened good-naturedly to all Mary might and did say, but was no whit moved thereby to give up his own way. And so, after much controversy, the removal to Australia was decided upon and accomplished.

The young couple had determined to engage a farm on shares, and so went, immediately upon their arrival, to a country part near Botany Bay. Here they remained a short time and then went up to Camden, which is about one hundred miles from Sydney. William took a farm and then commenced a long career of farming in Australia. Most of their children were born there.

And now let me tell you something of the character of this same Mary, ere I relate to you two strange dreams which she had while living at Camden.

She was a medium-sized, well-built woman, with kind, gray eyes and a pleasant but firm mouth. Her step was quick, and her manner was full of warm-hearted simplicity. She it was who ruled the children, administering with firm justice the rod of correction. Her husband contented himself by controlling his wife, leaving the whole of the remainder of the domestic regimen entirely in her hands. She was never disobeyed by her children. But withal "father" was a tenderer name to their large flock of girls than was "mother." But with all her firmness, she was far too womanly to possess one grain of obstinacy. When it was her duty to yield she could do so gracefully. With these qualities Mary united a sound business capacity, economy, thrift and extreme cleanliness. She was, and always has been, a remarkably healthy woman. With these gifts she had something of the visionary or semi-prophetic character of her great-grandmother Harris.

She has been a dreamer, and her dreams have been of a prophetic character. Most of them require no interpretation, but are simple forecasts, as it were, of the future.

One dream, which was indelibly impressed upon her mind, occurred to her just before the birth of her eighth daughter, Elizabeth. It was as follows:

She dreamed she had to travel a long way. At last she reached a stately white building, with projecting buttresses and towers. Going up the broad steps she entered a room filled with beautiful books. Seeing a door ajar, she walked into the adjoining room. There sat twelve men around a large table, and each man held a pen. They were looking up as though awaiting some message from above. She drew back, so as not to attract attention, when a voice said distinctly to her: "You will have to come here to be married." The thought passed through her mind, "I _am_ married and why, therefore, should I come here to be married?"

She went on out of the building and walked through the streets of the city that were near the building. The streets were straight and clean, with little streams of water running down under the shade-trees that bordered the foot-paths. Everything was clean and beautiful to look upon. Footbridges spanned the little streams, and the houses were clean and comfortable. She saw just ahead of her a woman driving a cow, with whom she felt a desire to speak, but before she could reach her, the woman had gone in at one of the gates. She walked on, pleased with all she saw. Raising her eyes she saw in the distance, coming to the city, what looked like an immense flock of sheep. But as they came nearer she saw they were people, all clothed in white raiment. They passed by and went on to the white building. "Ah!" thought Mary, "if I was there now, that I might know what it all meant!" But she felt compelled to go the other way. And so the dream ended.

When she awoke she related the strange episode to her husband and told him she believed her coming confinement would prove fatal. She thought the beautiful place she had seen could only be in heaven, as she had never seen anything like it upon the earth. William comforted her, but the spirit of the dream never left her.

However her little babe was born and she resumed her household duties.