As in other antebellum women’s novels, family breakdown leads to an alternative family of relatives and intimates.

Ellen follows Alice’s guidance to pray, learn self-control, and make peace with Aunt Fortune. When Aunt Fortune falls ill, Ellen maintains the farmhouse.

Ellen grows close to the Van Brunts, but Mr. Van Brunt falls in the barn and breaks his leg.

Ellen spends time with Alice’s family, meeting Alice’s brother John or Jack, who acts like a big brother and potential love interest.

(John's insistence on Ellen calling him brother gets weird, esp. when their interest in each other appears more amorous. Romanticism, with its glorification of childhood vision, often confuses these relations, but sometimes positively, as in Margaret Fuller's revision of marital relations in terms of sibling relations.)

Chapter 39 is included for the following reasons:

1. Exquisite domestic setting depicting Ellen’s reconstructed family circle, which corresponds to the group’s talk of heavenly reunion with loved ones. (Elizabeth Stuart Phelps’s 1868 novel The Gates Ajar would depict heaven as a 19c American suburban utopia in which the deceased politely call on one another.)

2. References to John Bunyan’s allegorical proto-novel The Pilgrim’s Progress (1678), which Wide, Wide World resembles as a conversion narrative.

3. References to literature and astronomy, about which Dr. White wrote his dissertation . . .  

from Chapter 39

Now is the pleasant time,
The cool, the silent, save where silence yields
To the night-warbling bird that now awake,
Tunes sweetest her love-laboured song now reigns
Full orbed the moon, and with more pleasing light
Shadowy, sets off the face of things.
                              MILTON. [Paradise Lost, V]

[39.1] WHEN Ellen came out of Alice's room again it was late in the afternoon. The sun was so low that the shadow of the house had crossed the narrow lawn and mounted up near to the top of the trees; but on them he was still shining brightly, and on the broad landscape beyond, which lay open to view through the gap in the trees. The glass door was open; the sweet summer air and the sound of birds and insects and fluttering leaves floated into the room, making the stillness musical. On the threshold pussy sat crouched, with his forefeet doubled under his breast, watching with intense gravity the operations of Margery, who was setting the table on the lawn just before his eyes. Alice was paring peaches. [domesticity]

[39.2] "Oh, we are going to have tea out of doors, aren't we!" said Ellen. "I'm very glad. What a lovely evening, isn't it? Just look at pussy, will you, Alice? don't you believe he knows what Margery is doing?—Why didn't you call me to go along with you after peaches?"

[39.3] "I thought you were doing the very best thing you possibly could, Ellie, my dear. How do you do?"

[39.4] "Oh, nicely now! Where's Mr. John? I hope he won't ask for my last drawing tonight,—I want to fix the top of that tree before he sees it."

[39.5] "Fix the top of your tree, you little Yankee?" said Alice;— "what do you think John would say to that?—unfix it you mean; it is too stiff already, isn't it?" [cf. Texan “fixin’”]

[39.6] "Well, what shall I say?" said Ellen laughing. "I am sorry that is Yankee, for I suppose one must speak English.—I want to do something to my tree, then.—Where is he, Alice?"

[39.7] "He is gone down to Mr. Van Brunt's, to see how he is, and to speak to Miss Fortune about you on his way back." . . .

[39.8] The whole wall of trees was in shadow when the little family sat down to table; but there was still the sun-lit picture behind; and there was another kind of sunshine in every face at the table. Quietly happy the whole four, or at least the whole three, were; first, in being together,—after that, in all things besides. Never was tea so refreshing, or bread and butter so sweet, or the song of birds so delightsome. When the birds were gone to their nests, the cricket and grasshopper and tree-toad and katy-did, and nameless other songsters, kept up a concert,—nature's own,—in delicious harmony with woods and flowers, and summer breezes and evening light.

[39.9] Ellen's cup of enjoyment was running over. From one beautiful thing to another her eye wandered,—from one joy to another her thoughts went,—till her full heart fixed on the God who had made and given them all, and that Redeemer whose blood had been their purchase-money. From the dear friends beside her, the best-loved she had in the world, she thought of the one dearer yet from whom death had separated her;—yet living still,—and to whom death would restore her, thanks to Him who had burst the bonds of death and broken the gates of the grave, and made a way for his ransomed to pass over. And the thought of Him was the joyfullest of all!

[39.10] "You look happy, Ellie," said her adopted brother.

[39.11] "So I am," said Ellen, smiling a very bright smile.

[39.12] "What are you thinking about?"

[39.13] But John saw it would not do to press his question.

[39.14] "You remind me," said he, "of some old fairy story that my childish ears received, in which the fountains of the sweet and bitter waters of life were said to stand very near each other, and to mingle their streams but a little way from their source. Your tears and smiles seem to be brothers and sisters;—whenever we see one we may be sure the other is not far off."

[39.15] "My dear Jack," said Alice, laughing,—"what an unhappy simile! [analogy, comparison, metaphor] Are brothers and sisters always found like that?"

[39.16] "I wish they were," said John, sighing and smiling;—"but my last words had nothing to do with my simile as you call it."

[39.17] When tea was over, and Margery had withdrawn the things and taken away the table, they still lingered in their places. It was far too pleasant to go in. Mr. Humphreys [Alice’s & John’s father, a minister] moved his chair to the side of the house, and throwing a handkerchief over his head to defend him from the mosquitoes, a few of which were buzzing about, he either listened, meditated, or slept;—most probably one of the two latter for the conversation was not very loud nor very lively; it was happiness enough merely to breathe so near each other. The sun left the distant fields and hills; soft twilight stole through the woods, down the gap, and over the plain; the grass lost its green; the wall of trees grew dark and dusky; and very faint and dim showed the picture that was so bright a little while ago.

[39.18] As they sat quite silent, listening to what nature had to say to them, or letting fancy and memory take their way, the silence was broken—hardly broken—by the distinct far-off cry of a whip-poor-will [bird with a call like its name]. Alice grasped her brother's arm, and they remained motionless, while it came nearer, nearer,—then quite near,—with its clear, wild, shrill, melancholy note sounding close by them again and again,—strangely, plaintively, then leaving the lawn, it was heard further and further off, till the last faint "whip-poor-will," in the far distance, ended its pretty interlude. It was almost too dark to read faces, but the eyes of the brother and sister had sought each other and remained fixed till the bird was out of hearing; then Alice's hand was removed to his, and her head found its old place on her brother's shoulder.

[39.19] "Sometimes, John," said Alice, "I am afraid I have one tie too strong to this world. I cannot bear—as I ought—to have you away from me."

[39.20] Her brother's lips were instantly pressed to her forehead.

[39.21] "I may say to you, Alice, as Colonel Gardiner said to his wife, 'we have an eternity to spend together!'" [James Gardiner (1688-1745) converted after a wild youth; Scots soldier fought for British, wounded at Battle of  Prestonpans & died near his home]

[39.22] "I wonder," said Alice, after a pause,—"how those can bear to love or be loved, whose affection can see nothing but a blank beyond the grave."

[39.23] "Few people, I believe," said her brother, "would come exactly under that description; most flatter themselves with a vague hope of reunion after death."

[39.24] "But that is a miserable hope—very different from ours."

[39.25] "Very different indeed!—and miserable; for it can only deceive; but ours is sure. 'Them that sleep in Jesus will God bring with him.' "

[39.26] "Precious!" said Alice. "How exactly fitted to every want and mood of the mind are the sweet Bible words." [correspondence]

[39.27] "Well!" said Mr. Humphreys, rousing himself,—"I am going in! These mosquitoes have half eaten me up. Are you going to sit there all night?"

[39.28] "We are thinking of it, papa," said Alice cheerfully.

[39.29] He went in, and was heard calling Margery for a light.

[39.30] They had better lights on the lawn. The stars began to peep out through the soft blue, and as the blue grew deeper they came out more and brighter, till all heaven was hung with lamps. But that was not all. In the eastern horizon, just above the low hills that bordered the far side of the plain, a white light, spreading and growing and brightening, promised the moon, and promised that she would rise very splendid; and even before she came began to throw a faint luster over the landscape. All eyes were fastened, and exclamations burst, as the first silver edge showed itself, and the moon rapidly rising looked on them with her whole broad bright face; lighting up not only their faces and figures but the wide country view that was spread out below, and touching most beautifully the trees in the edge of the gap, and faintly the lawn; while the wall of wood stood in deeper and blacker shadow than ever.

[39.31] "Isn't that beautiful!" said Ellen.

[39.32] "Come round here, Ellie," said John;—"Alice may have you all the rest of the year, but when I am at home you belong to me. What was your little head busied upon a while ago?"

[39.33] "When?" said Ellen.

[39.34] "When I asked you—"

[39.35] "Oh, I know,—I remember. I was thinking—"

[39.36] "Well?"—

[39.37] "I was thinking—do you want me to tell you?"

[39.38] "Unless you would rather not."

[39.39] "I was thinking about Jesus Christ," said Ellen in a low tone.

[39.40] "What about him, dear Ellie?" said her brother, drawing her closer to his side.

[39.41] "Different things,—I was thinking of what he said about little children—and about what he said, you know,—'In my Father's house are many mansions;'—and I was thinking that mamma was there and I thought that we all—"

[39.42] Ellen could get no further. . . .

[39.43] For a little while each was busy with his own meditations. The moon meanwhile, rising higher and higher, poured a flood of light through the gap in the woods before them, and stealing among the trees here and there lit up a spot of ground under their deep shadow. The distant picture lay in mazy brightness. All was still, but the ceaseless chirrup of insects and gentle flapping of leaves; the summer air just touched their cheeks with the lightest breath of a kiss, sweet from distant hay-fields, and nearer pines and hemlocks, and other of nature's numberless perfume-boxes. The hay-harvest had been remarkably late this year.

[39.44] "This is higher enjoyment," said John,—" than half those who make their homes in rich houses and mighty palaces have any notion of."

[39.45] "But cannot rich people look at the moon?" said Ellen.

[39.46] "Yes, but the taste for pure pleasures is commonly gone when people make a trade of pleasure." . . .

[39.47] "But I wanted to ask something," said Ellen,—"Oh! what is the reason the moon looks so much larger when she first gets up than she does afterwards?"

[39.48] "Whom are you asking?"

[39.49] "You."

[39.50] "And who is you? Here are two people in the moonlight."

[39.51] "Mr. John Humphreys,—Alice's brother, and that Thomas calls 'the young master,'" said Ellen laughing.

[39.52] "You are more shy of taking a leap than your little horse is," said John smiling,—'but I shall bring you up to it yet. What is the cause of the sudden enlargement of my thumb?"

[39.53] He had drawn a small magnifying glass from his pocket and held it between his hand and Ellen.

[39.54] "Why it is not enlarged," said Ellen, "it is only magnified."

[39.55] "What do you mean by that?"

[39.56] "Why, the glass makes it look larger."

[39.57] "Do you know how, or why?"

[39.58] "No."

[39.59] He put up the glass again.

[39.60] "But what do you mean by that?" said Ellen,—"there is no magnifying glass between us and the moon to make her look larger."

[39.61] "You are sure of that?"

[39.62] "Why yes!" said Ellen;—"I am perfectly sure; there is nothing in the world. There she is, right up there, looking straight down upon us, and there is nothing between."

[39.63] "What is it that keeps up that pleasant fluttering of leaves in the wood?"

[39.64] "Why, the wind."

[39.65] "And what is the wind?"

[39.66] "It is air—air moving, I suppose."

[39.67] "Exactly. Then there is something between us and the moon."

[39.68] "The air! But, Mr. John, one can see quite clearly through the air; it doesn't make things look larger or smaller."

[39.69] "How far do you suppose the air reaches from us toward the moon?"

[39.70] "Why all the way, don't it?"

[39.71] "No—only about forty miles. If it reached all the way there would indeed be no magnifying glass in the case."

[39.72] "But how is it?" said Ellen. "I don't understand."

[39.73] "I cannot tell you tonight, Ellie. There is a long ladder of knowledge to go up before we can get to the moon, but we will begin to mount tomorrow, if nothing happens. Alice, you have that little book of Conversations on Natural Philosophy, which you and I used to delight ourselves with in old time?" [“Natural Philosophy” is an early term for Natural Science or, in this case, Physics and Astronomy. The moon may look larger rising and setting than overhead b/c the denser air close to the earth magnifies its image.]

[39.74] "Safe and sound in the bookcase," said Alice. "I have thought of giving it to Ellen before, but she has been busy enough with what she had already."

[39.75] "I have done Rollin now, though," said Ellen; "that is lucky. I am ready for the moon."

[39.76] This new study was begun the next day, and Ellen took great delight in it. She would have run on too fast in her eagerness but for the steady hand of her teacher; he obliged her to be very thorough. This was only one of her items of business. The weeks of John's stay were as usual not merely weeks of constant and varied delight, but of constant and swift improvement too. . . . [delight + improvement = entertain & inform]