Miss Marryat took a beautiful place, Fern Hill, near Charmouth, in Dorsetshire, on the borders of Devon, and there she lived for some five years, a centre of beneficence in the district.  She started a Sunday-school, and a Bible-class after a while for the lads too old for the school, who clamored for admission to her class in it.  She visited the poor, taking help wherever she went, and sending food from her own table to the sick.  It was characteristic of her that she would never give “scraps” to the poor, but would have a basin brought in at dinner, and would cut the best slice to tempt the invalid appetite.  Money she rarely, if ever, gave, but she would find a day’s work, or busy herself to seek permanent employment for anyone asking aid.  Stern in rectitude herself, and iron to the fawning or the dishonest, her influence, whether she was feared or loved, was always for good.  Of the strictest sect of the Evangelicals, she was an Evangelical.  On the Sunday no books were allowed save the Bible or the “Sunday at Home”; but she would try to make the day bright by various little devices; by a walk with her in the garden; by the singing of hymns, always attractive to children; by telling us wonderful missionary stories of Moffat and Livingstone, whose adventures with savages and wild beasts were as exciting as any tale of Mayne Reid’s.  We used to learn passages from the Bible and hymns for repetition; a favorite amusement was a “Bible puzzle”, such as a description of some Bible scene, which was to be recognised by the description.  Then we taught in the Sunday-school, for Auntie would tell us that it was useless for us to learn if we did not try to help those who had no one to teach them.  The Sunday-school lessons had to be carefully prepared on the Saturday, for we were always taught that work given to the poor should be work that cost something to the giver.  This principle, regarded by her as an illustration of the text, “Shall I give unto the Lord my God that which has cost me nothing?” ran through all her precept and her practice.  When in some public distress we children went to her crying, and asking whether we could not help the little children who were starving, her prompt reply was:  “What will you give up for them?” And then she said that if we liked to give up the use of sugar, we might thus each save 6d. a week to give away.  I doubt if a healthier lesson can be given to children than that of personal self-denial for the good of others.

Daily, when our lessons were over, we had plenty of fun; long walks and rides, rides on a lively pony, who found small children most amusing, and on which the coachman taught us to stick firmly, whatever his eccentricities of the moment; delightful all-day picnics in the lovely country round Charmouth, Auntie our merriest playfellow.  Never was a healthier home, physically and mentally, made for young things than in that quiet village.  And then the delight of the holidays!  The pride of my mother at the good report of her darling’s progress, and the renewal of acquaintance with every nook and corner in the dear old house and garden.