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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The May Flower, and Miscellaneous Writings, by 
+Harriet Beecher Stowe
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The May Flower, and Miscellaneous Writings
+
+Author: Harriet Beecher Stowe
+
+Release Date: February 25, 2010 [EBook #31390]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAY FLOWER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Mary Meehan and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+book was produced from scanned images of public domain
+material from the Google Print project.)
+
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+
+
+
+
+
+
+                                   The May Flower
+
+                                        and
+
+                               Miscellaneous Writings
+
+                              By Harriet Beecher Stowe
+
+     AUTHOR OF "UNCLE TOM'S CABIN," "SUNNY MEMORIES OF FOREIGN LANDS," ETC.
+
+
+BOSTON:
+PHILLIPS, SAMPSON, AND COMPANY,
+13 WINTER STREET
+1855.
+
+Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by
+PHILLIPS, SAMPSON, AND COMPANY,
+In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District
+of Massachusetts.
+
+STEREOTYPED AT THE
+BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Truly Yours, H B Stowe]
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION.
+
+
+Mr. G. B. Emerson, in his late report to the legislature of
+Massachusetts on the trees and shrubs of that state, thus describes
+The May Flower.
+
+"Often from beneath the edge of a snow bank are seen rising the
+fragrant, pearly-white or rose-colored flowers of this earliest
+harbinger of spring.
+
+"It abounds in the edges of the woods about Plymouth, as elsewhere, and
+must have been the first flower to salute the storm-beaten crew of the
+Mayflower on the conclusion of their first terrible winter. Their
+descendants have thence piously derived the name, although its bloom is
+often passed before the coming in of May."
+
+No flower could be more appropriately selected as an emblem token by the
+descendants of the Puritans. Though so fragrant and graceful, it is
+invariably the product of the hardest and most rocky soils, and seems to
+draw its ethereal beauty of color and wealth of perfume rather from the
+air than from the slight hold which its rootlets take of the earth. It
+may often be found in fullest beauty matting a granite lodge, with
+scarcely any perceptible soil for its support.
+
+What better emblem of that faith, and hope, and piety, by which our
+fathers were supported in dreary and barren enterprises, and which drew
+their life and fragrance from heaven more than earth?
+
+The May Flower was, therefore, many years since selected by the author
+as the title of a series of New England sketches. That work had
+comparatively a limited circulation, and is now entirely out of print.
+Its articles are republished in the present volume, with other
+miscellaneous writings, which have from time to time appeared in
+different periodicals. They have been written in all moods, from the
+gayest to the gravest--they are connected, in many cases, with the
+memory of friends and scenes most dear.
+
+There are those now scattered through the world who will remember the
+social literary parties of Cincinnati, for whose genial meetings many of
+these articles were prepared. With most affectionate remembrances, the
+author dedicates the book to the yet surviving members of The Semicolon.
+
+Andover, _April, 1855_.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+UNCLE LOT
+
+LOVE _versus_ LAW
+
+THE TEA ROSE
+
+TRIALS OF A HOUSEKEEPER
+
+LITTLE EDWARD
+
+AUNT MARY
+
+FRANKNESS
+
+THE SABBATH.--SKETCHES FROM A NOTE BOOK OF AN ELDERLY GENTLEMAN
+
+LET EVERY MAN MIND HIS OWN BUSINESS
+
+COUSIN WILLIAM
+
+THE MINISTRATION OF OUR DEPARTED FRIENDS.--A NEW YEAR'S REVERY
+
+MRS. A. AND MRS. B.; OR, WHAT SHE THINKS ABOUT IT
+
+CHRISTMAS; OR, THE GOOD FAIRY
+
+EARTHLY CARE A HEAVENLY DISCIPLINE
+
+CONVERSATION ON CONVERSATION
+
+HOW DO WE KNOW?
+
+WHICH IS THE LIBERAL MAN?
+
+THE ELDER'S FEAST.--A TRADITION OF LAODICEA
+
+LITTLE FRED, THE CANAL BOY
+
+THE CANAL BOAT
+
+FEELING
+
+THE SEAMSTRESS
+
+OLD FATHER MORRIS.--A SKETCH FROM NATURE
+
+THE TWO ALTARS, OR TWO PICTURES IN ONE
+
+A SCHOLAR'S ADVENTURES IN THE COUNTRY
+
+"WOMAN, BEHOLD THY SON!"
+
+THE CORAL RING
+
+ART AND NATURE
+
+CHILDREN
+
+HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS WITH MAMMON
+
+A SCENE IN JERUSALEM
+
+THE OLD MEETING HOUSE.--SKETCH FROM THE NOTE BOOK OF AN OLD GENTLEMAN
+
+THE NEW-YEAR'S GIFT
+
+THE OLD OAK OF ANDOVER.--A REVERY
+
+OUR WOOD LOT IN WINTER
+
+POEMS:--
+
+THE CHARMER
+
+PILGRIM'S SONG IN THE DESERT
+
+MARY AT THE CROSS
+
+CHRISTIAN PEACE
+
+ABIDE IN ME AND I IN YOU.--THE SOUL'S ANSWER
+
+WHEN I AWAKE I AM STILL WITH THEE
+
+CHRIST'S VOICE IN THE SOUL
+
+
+
+
+THE MAY FLOWER.
+
+
+
+
+UNCLE LOT.
+
+
+And so I am to write a story--but of what, and where? Shall it be
+radiant with the sky of Italy? or eloquent with the beau ideal of
+Greece? Shall it breathe odor and languor from the orient, or chivalry
+from the occident? or gayety from France? or vigor from England? No, no;
+these are all too old--too romance-like--too obviously picturesque for
+me. No; let me turn to my own land--my own New England; the land of
+bright fires and strong hearts; the land of _deeds_, and not of words;
+the land of fruits, and not of flowers; the land often spoken against,
+yet always respected; "the latchet of whose shoes the nations of the
+earth are not worthy to unloose."
+
+Now, from this very heroic apostrophe, you may suppose that I have
+something very heroic to tell. By no means. It is merely a little
+introductory breeze of patriotism, such as occasionally brushes over
+every mind, bearing on its wings the remembrance of all we ever loved or
+cherished in the land of our early years; and if it should seem to be
+rodomontade to any people in other parts of the earth, let them only
+imagine it to be said about "Old Kentuck," old England, or any other
+corner of the world in which they happened to be born, and they will
+find it quite rational.
+
+But, as touching our story, it is time to begin. Did you ever see the
+little village of Newbury, in New England? I dare say you never did; for
+it was just one of those out of the way places where nobody ever came
+unless they came on purpose: a green little hollow, wedged like a bird's
+nest between half a dozen high hills, that kept off the wind and kept
+out foreigners; so that the little place was as straitly _sui generis_
+as if there were not another in the world. The inhabitants were all of
+that respectable old standfast family who make it a point to be born,
+bred, married, die, and be buried all in the selfsame spot. There were
+just so many houses, and just so many people lived in them; and nobody
+ever seemed to be sick, or to die either, at least while I was there.
+The natives grew old till they could not grow any older, and then they
+stood still, and _lasted_ from generation to generation. There was, too,
+an unchangeability about all the externals of Newbury. Here was a red
+house, and there was a brown house, and across the way was a yellow
+house; and there was a straggling rail fence or a tribe of mullein
+stalks between. The minister lived here, and 'Squire Moses lived there,
+and Deacon Hart lived under the hill, and Messrs. Nadab and Abihu Peters
+lived by the cross road, and the old "widder" Smith lived by the meeting
+house, and Ebenezer Camp kept a shoemaker's shop on one side, and
+Patience Mosely kept a milliner's shop in front; and there was old
+Comfort Scran, who kept store for the whole town, and sold axe heads,
+brass thimbles, licorice ball, fancy handkerchiefs, and every thing else
+you can think of. Here, too, was the general post office, where you
+might see letters marvellously folded, directed wrong side upward,
+stamped with a thimble, and superscribed to some of the Dollys, or
+Pollys, or Peters, or Moseses aforenamed or not named.
+
+For the rest, as to manners, morals, arts, and sciences, the people in
+Newbury always went to their parties at three o'clock in the afternoon,
+and came home before dark; always stopped all work the minute the sun
+was down on Saturday night; always went to meeting on Sunday; had a
+school house with all the ordinary inconveniences; were in neighborly
+charity with each other; read their Bibles, feared their God, and were
+content with such things as they had--the best philosophy, after all.
+Such was the place into which Master James Benton made an irruption in
+the year eighteen hundred and no matter what. Now, this James is to be
+our hero, and he is just the hero for a sensation--at least, so you
+would have thought, if you had been in Newbury the week after his
+arrival. Master James was one of those whole-hearted, energetic Yankees,
+who rise in the world as naturally as cork does in water. He possessed a
+great share of that characteristic national trait so happily denominated
+"cuteness," which signifies an ability to do every thing without trying,
+and to know every thing without learning, and to make more use of one's
+_ignorance_ than other people do of their knowledge. This quality in
+James was mingled with an elasticity of animal spirits, a buoyant
+cheerfulness of mind, which, though found in the New England character,
+perhaps, as often as any where else, is not ordinarily regarded as one
+of its distinguishing traits.
+
+As to the personal appearance of our hero, we have not much to say of
+it--not half so much as the girls in Newbury found it necessary to
+remark, the first Sabbath that he shone out in the meeting house. There
+was a saucy frankness of countenance, a knowing roguery of eye, a
+joviality and prankishness of demeanor, that was wonderfully
+captivating, especially to the ladies.
+
+It is true that Master James had an uncommonly comfortable opinion of
+himself, a full faith that there was nothing in creation that he could
+not learn and could not do; and this faith was maintained with an
+abounding and triumphant joyfulness, that fairly carried your sympathies
+along with him, and made you feel quite as much delighted with his
+qualifications and prospects as he felt himself. There are two kinds of
+self-sufficiency; one is amusing, and the other is provoking. His was
+the amusing kind. It seemed, in truth, to be only the buoyancy and
+overflow of a vivacious mind, delighted with every thing delightful, in
+himself or others. He was always ready to magnify his own praise, but
+quite as ready to exalt his neighbor, if the channel of discourse ran
+that way: his own perfections being more completely within his
+knowledge, he rejoiced in them more constantly; but, if those of any one
+else came within the same range, he was quite as much astonished and
+edified as if they had been his own.
+
+Master James, at the time of his transit to the town of Newbury, was
+only eighteen years of age; so that it was difficult to say which
+predominated in him most, the boy or the man. The belief that he could,
+and the determination that he would, be something in the world had
+caused him to abandon his home, and, with all his worldly effects tied
+in a blue cotton pocket handkerchief, to proceed to seek his fortune in
+Newbury. And never did stranger in Yankee village rise to promotion with
+more unparalleled rapidity, or boast a greater plurality of employment.
+He figured as schoolmaster all the week, and as chorister on Sundays,
+and taught singing and reading in the evenings, besides studying Latin
+and Greek with the minister, nobody knew when; thus fitting for college,
+while he seemed to be doing every thing else in the world besides.
+
+James understood every art and craft of popularity, and made himself
+mightily at home in all the chimney corners of the region round about;
+knew the geography of every body's cider barrel and apple bin, helping
+himself and every one else therefrom with all bountifulness; rejoicing
+in the good things of this life, devouring the old ladies' doughnuts and
+pumpkin pies with most flattering appetite, and appearing equally to
+relish every body and thing that came in his way.
+
+The degree and versatility of his acquirements were truly wonderful. He
+knew all about arithmetic and history, and all about catching squirrels
+and planting corn; made poetry and hoe handles with equal celerity;
+wound yarn and took out grease spots for old ladies, and made nosegays
+and knickknacks for young ones; caught trout Saturday afternoons, and
+discussed doctrines on Sundays, with equal adroitness and effect. In
+short, Mr. James moved on through the place
+
+           "Victorious,
+    Happy and glorious,"
+
+welcomed and privileged by every body in every place; and when he had
+told his last ghost story, and fairly flourished himself out of doors at
+the close of a long winter's evening, you might see the hard face of the
+good man of the house still phosphorescent with his departing radiance,
+and hear him exclaim, in a paroxysm of admiration, that "Jemeses talk
+re'ely did beat all; that he was sartainly most a miraculous cre'tur!"
+
+It was wonderfully contrary to the buoyant activity of Master James's
+mind to keep a school. He had, moreover, so much of the boy and the
+rogue in his composition, that he could not be strict with the
+iniquities of the curly pates under his charge; and when he saw how
+determinately every little heart was boiling over with mischief and
+motion, he felt in his soul more disposed to join in and help them to a
+frolic than to lay justice to the line, as was meet. This would have
+made a sad case, had it not been that the activity of the master's mind
+communicated itself to his charge, just as the reaction of one brisk
+little spring will fill a manufactory with motion; so that there was
+more of an impulse towards study in the golden, good-natured day of
+James Benton than in the time of all that went before or came after him.
+
+But when "school was out," James's spirits foamed over as naturally as a
+tumbler of soda water, and he could jump over benches and burst out of
+doors with as much rapture as the veriest little elf in his company.
+Then you might have seen him stepping homeward with a most felicitous
+expression of countenance, occasionally reaching his hand through the
+fence for a bunch of currants, or over it after a flower, or bursting
+into some back yard to help an old lady empty her wash tub, or stopping
+to pay his _devoirs_ to Aunt This or Mistress That, for James well knew
+the importance of the "powers that be," and always kept the sunny side
+of the old ladies.
+
+We shall not answer for James's general flirtations, which were sundry
+and manifold; for he had just the kindly heart that fell in love with
+every thing in feminine shape that came in his way, and if he had not
+been blessed with an equal facility in falling out again, we do not know
+what ever would have become of him. But at length he came into an
+abiding captivity, and it is quite time that he should; for, having
+devoted thus much space to the illustration of our hero, it is fit we
+should do something in behalf of our heroine; and, therefore, we must
+beg the reader's attention while we draw a diagram or two that will
+assist him in gaining a right idea of her.
+
+Do you see yonder brown house, with its broad roof sloping almost to the
+ground on one side, and a great, unsupported, sun bonnet of a piazza
+shooting out over the front door? You must often have noticed it; you
+have seen its tall well sweep, relieved against the clear evening sky,
+or observed the feather beds and bolsters lounging out of its chamber
+windows on a still summer morning; you recollect its gate, that swung
+with a chain and a great stone; its pantry window, latticed with little
+brown slabs, and looking out upon a forest of bean poles. You remember
+the zephyrs that used to play among its pea brush, and shake the long
+tassels of its corn patch, and how vainly any zephyr might essay to
+perform similar flirtations with the considerate cabbages that were
+solemnly vegetating near by. Then there was the whole neighborhood of
+purple-leaved beets and feathery parsnips; there were the billows of
+gooseberry bushes rolled up by the fence, interspersed with rows of
+quince trees; and far off in one corner was one little patch,
+penuriously devoted to ornament, which flamed with marigolds, poppies,
+snappers, and four-o'clocks. Then there was a little box by itself with
+one rose geranium in it, which seemed to look around the garden as much
+like a stranger as a French dancing master in a Yankee meeting house.
+
+That is the dwelling of Uncle Lot Griswold. Uncle Lot, as he was
+commonly called, had a character that a painter would sketch for its
+lights and contrasts rather than its symmetry. He was a chestnut burr,
+abounding with briers without and with substantial goodness within. He
+had the strong-grained practical sense, the calculating worldly wisdom
+of his class of people in New England; he had, too, a kindly heart; but
+all the strata of his character were crossed by a vein of surly
+petulance, that, half way between joke and earnest, colored every thing
+that he said and did.
+
+If you asked a favor of Uncle Lot, he generally kept you arguing half an
+hour, to prove that you really needed it, and to tell you that he could
+not all the while be troubled with helping one body or another, all
+which time you might observe him regularly making his preparations to
+grant your request, and see, by an odd glimmer of his eye, that he was
+preparing to let you hear the "conclusion of the whole matter," which
+was, "Well, well--I guess--I'll go, on the _hull_--I 'spose I must, at
+least;" so off he would go and work while the day lasted, and then wind
+up with a farewell exhortation "not to be a callin' on your neighbors
+when you could get along without." If any of Uncle Lot's neighbors were
+in any trouble, he was always at hand to tell them that "they shouldn't
+a' done so;" that "it was strange they couldn't had more sense;" and
+then to close his exhortations by laboring more diligently than any to
+bring them out of their difficulties, groaning in spirit, meanwhile,
+that folks would make people so much trouble.
+
+"Uncle Lot, father wants to know if you will lend him your hoe to-day,"
+says a little boy, making his way across a cornfield.
+
+"Why don't your father use his own hoe?"
+
+"Ours is broke."
+
+"Broke! How came it broke?"
+
+"I broke it yesterday, trying to hit a squirrel."
+
+"What business had you to be hittin' squirrels with a hoe? say!"
+
+"But father wants to borrow yours."
+
+"Why don't you have that mended? It's a great pester to have every body
+usin' a body's things."
+
+"Well, I can borrow one some where else, I suppose," says the suppliant.
+After the boy has stumbled across the ploughed ground, and is fairly
+over the fence, Uncle Lot calls,--
+
+"Halloo, there, you little rascal! what are you goin' off without the
+hoe for?"
+
+"I didn't know as you meant to lend it."
+
+"I didn't say I wouldn't, did I? Here, come and take it.--stay, I'll
+bring it; and do tell your father not to be a lettin' you hunt squirrels
+with his hoes next time."
+
+Uncle Lot's household consisted of Aunt Sally, his wife, and an only son
+and daughter; the former, at the time our story begins, was at a
+neighboring literary institution. Aunt Sally was precisely as clever, as
+easy to be entreated, and kindly in externals, as her helpmate was the
+reverse. She was one of those respectable, pleasant old ladies whom you
+might often have met on the way to church on a Sunday, equipped with a
+great fan and a psalm book, and carrying some dried orange peel or a
+stalk of fennel, to give to the children if they were sleepy in meeting.
+She was as cheerful and domestic as the tea kettle that sung by her
+kitchen fire, and slipped along among Uncle Lot's angles and
+peculiarities as if there never was any thing the matter in the world;
+and the same mantle of sunshine seemed to have fallen on Miss Grace, her
+only daughter.
+
+Pretty in her person and pleasant in her ways, endowed with native
+self-possession and address, lively and chatty, having a mind and a will
+of her own, yet good-humored withal, Miss Grace was a universal
+favorite. It would have puzzled a city lady to understand how Grace, who
+never was out of Newbury in her life, knew the way to speak, and act,
+and behave, on all occasions, exactly as if she had been taught how. She
+was just one of those wild flowers which you may sometimes see waving
+its little head in the woods, and looking so civilized and garden-like,
+that you wonder if it really did come up and grow there by nature. She
+was an adept in all household concerns, and there was something
+amazingly pretty in her energetic way of bustling about, and "putting
+things to rights." Like most Yankee damsels, she had a longing after the
+tree of knowledge, and, having exhausted the literary fountains of a
+district school, she fell to reading whatsoever came in her way. True,
+she had but little to read; but what she perused she had her own
+thoughts upon, so that a person of information, in talking with her,
+would feel a constant wondering pleasure to find that she had so much
+more to say of this, that, and the other thing than he expected.
+
+Uncle Lot, like every one else, felt the magical brightness of his
+daughter, and was delighted with her praises, as might be discerned by
+his often finding occasion to remark that "he didn't see why the boys
+need to be all the time a' comin' to see Grace, for she was nothing so
+extror'nary, after all." About all matters and things at home she
+generally had her own way, while Uncle Lot would scold and give up with
+a regular good grace that was quite creditable.
+
+"Father," says Grace, "I want to have a party next week."
+
+"You sha'n't go to havin' your parties, Grace. I always have to eat bits
+and ends a fortnight after you have one, and I won't have it so." And so
+Uncle Lot walked out, and Aunt Sally and Miss Grace proceeded to make
+the cake and pies for the party.
+
+When Uncle Lot came home, he saw a long array of pies and rows of cakes
+on the kitchen table.
+
+"Grace--Grace--Grace, I say! What is all this here flummery for?"
+
+"Why, it is _to eat_, father," said Grace, with a good-natured look of
+consciousness.
+
+Uncle Lot tried his best to look sour; but his visage began to wax
+comical as he looked at his merry daughter; so he said nothing, but
+quietly sat down to his dinner.
+
+"Father," said Grace, after dinner, "we shall want two more candlesticks
+next week."
+
+"Why, can't you have your party with what you've got?"
+
+"No, father, we want two more."
+
+"I can't afford it, Grace--there's no sort of use on't--and you sha'n't
+have any."
+
+"O, father, now do," said Grace.
+
+"I won't, neither," said Uncle Lot, as he sallied out of the house, and
+took the road to Comfort Scran's store.
+
+In half an hour he returned again; and fumbling in his pocket, and
+drawing forth a candlestick, levelled it at Grace.
+
+"There's your candlestick."
+
+"But, father, I said I wanted _two_."
+
+"Why, can't you make one do?"
+
+"No, I can't; I must have two."
+
+"Well, then, there's t'other; and here's a fol-de-rol for you to tie
+round your neck." So saying, he bolted for the door, and took himself
+off with all speed. It was much after this fashion that matters commonly
+went on in the brown house.
+
+But having tarried long on the way, we must proceed with the main story.
+
+James thought Miss Grace was a glorious girl; and as to what Miss Grace
+thought of Master James, perhaps it would not have been developed had
+she not been called to stand on the defensive for him with Uncle Lot.
+For, from the time that the whole village of Newbury began to be wholly
+given unto the praise of Master James, Uncle Lot set his face as a flint
+against him--from the laudable fear of following the multitude. He
+therefore made conscience of stoutly gainsaying every thing that was
+said in his behalf, which, as James was in high favor with Aunt Sally,
+he had frequent opportunities to do.
+
+So when Miss Grace perceived that Uncle Lot did not like our hero as
+much as he ought to do, she, of course, was bound to like him well
+enough to make up for it. Certain it is that they were remarkably happy
+in finding opportunities of being acquainted; that James waited on her,
+as a matter of course, from singing school; that he volunteered making a
+new box for her geranium on an improved plan; and above all, that he was
+remarkably particular in his attentions to Aunt Sally--a stroke of
+policy which showed that James had a natural genius for this sort of
+matters. Even when emerging from the meeting house in full glory, with
+flute and psalm book under his arm, he would stop to ask her how she
+did; and if it was cold weather, he would carry her foot stove all the
+way home from meeting, discoursing upon the sermon, and other serious
+matters, as Aunt Sally observed, "in the pleasantest, prettiest way that
+ever ye see." This flute was one of the crying sins of James in the eyes
+of Uncle Lot. James was particularly fond of it, because he had learned
+to play on it by intuition; and on the decease of the old pitchpipe,
+which was slain by a fall from the gallery, he took the liberty to
+introduce the flute in its place. For this, and other sins, and for the
+good reasons above named, Uncle Lot's countenance was not towards James,
+neither could he be moved to him-ward by any manner of means.
+
+To all Aunt Sally's good words and kind speeches, he had only to say
+that "he didn't like him; that he hated to see him a' manifesting and
+glorifying there in the front gallery Sundays, and a' acting every where
+as if he was master of all: he didn't like it, and he wouldn't." But our
+hero was no whit cast down or discomfited by the malcontent aspect of
+Uncle Lot. On the contrary, when report was made to him of divers of his
+hard speeches, he only shrugged his shoulders, with a very satisfied
+air, and remarked that "he knew a thing or two for all that."
+
+"Why, James," said his companion and chief counsellor, "do you think
+Grace likes you?"
+
+"I don't know," said our hero, with a comfortable appearance of
+certainty.
+
+"But you can't get her, James, if Uncle Lot is cross about it."
+
+"Fudge! I can make Uncle Lot like me if I have a mind to try."
+
+"Well then, Jim, you'll have to give up that flute of yours, I tell you
+now."
+
+"Fa, sol, la--I can make him like me and my flute too."
+
+"Why, how will you do it?"
+
+"O, I'll work it," said our hero.
+
+"Well, Jim, I tell you now, you don't know Uncle Lot if you say so; for
+he is just the _settest_ critter in his way that ever you saw."
+
+"I _do_ know Uncle Lot, though, better than most folks; he is no more
+cross than I am; and as to his being _set_, you have nothing to do but
+make him think he is in his own way when he is in yours--that is all."
+
+"Well," said the other, "but you see I don't believe it."
+
+"And I'll bet you a gray squirrel that I'll go there this very evening,
+and get him to like me and my flute both," said James.
+
+Accordingly the late sunshine of that afternoon shone full on the yellow
+buttons of James as he proceeded to the place of conflict. It was a
+bright, beautiful evening. A thunder storm had just cleared away, and
+the silver clouds lay rolled up in masses around the setting sun; the
+rain drops were sparkling and winking to each other over the ends of the
+leaves, and all the bluebirds and robins, breaking forth into song, made
+the little green valley as merry as a musical box.
+
+James's soul was always overflowing with that kind of poetry which
+consists in feeling unspeakably happy; and it is not to be wondered at,
+considering where he was going, that he should feel in a double ecstasy
+on the present occasion. He stepped gayly along, occasionally springing
+over a fence to the right to see whether the rain had swollen the trout
+brook, or to the left to notice the ripening of Mr. Somebody's
+watermelons--for James always had an eye on all his neighbors' matters
+as well as his own.
+
+In this way he proceeded till he arrived at the picket fence that marked
+the commencement of Uncle Lot's ground. Here he stopped to consider.
+Just then four or five sheep walked up, and began also to consider a
+loose picket, which was hanging just ready to drop off; and James began
+to look at the sheep. "Well, mister," said he, as he observed the leader
+judiciously drawing himself through the gap, "in with you--just what I
+wanted;" and having waited a moment to ascertain that all the company
+were likely to follow, he ran with all haste towards the house, and
+swinging open the gate, pressed all breathless to the door.
+
+"Uncle Lot, there are four or five sheep in your garden!" Uncle Lot
+dropped his whetstone and scythe.
+
+"I'll drive them out," said our hero; and with that, he ran down the
+garden alley, and made a furious descent on the enemy; bestirring
+himself, as Bunyan says, "lustily and with good courage," till every
+sheep had skipped out much quicker than it skipped in; and then,
+springing over the fence, he seized a great stone, and nailed on the
+picket so effectually that no sheep could possibly encourage the hope of
+getting in again. This was all the work of a minute, and he was back
+again; but so exceedingly out of breath that it was necessary for him to
+stop a moment and rest himself. Uncle Lot looked ungraciously satisfied.
+
+"What under the canopy set you to scampering so?" said he; "I could a'
+driv out them critturs myself."
+
+"If you are at all particular about driving them out _yourself_, I can
+let them in again," said James.
+
+Uncle Lot looked at him with an odd sort of twinkle in the corner of his
+eye.
+
+"'Spose I must ask you to walk in," said he.
+
+"Much obliged," said James; "but I am in a great hurry." So saying, he
+started in very business-like fashion towards the gate.
+
+"You'd better jest stop a minute."
+
+"Can't stay a minute."
+
+"I don't see what possesses you to be all the while in sich a hurry; a
+body would think you had all creation on your shoulders."
+
+"Just my situation, Uncle Lot," said James, swinging open the gate.
+
+"Well, at any rate, have a drink of cider, can't ye?" said Uncle Lot,
+who was now quite engaged to have his own way in the case.
+
+James found it convenient to accept this invitation, and Uncle Lot was
+twice as good-natured as if he had staid in the first of the matter.
+
+Once fairly forced into the premises, James thought fit to forget his
+long walk and excess of business, especially as about that moment Aunt
+Sally and Miss Grace returned from an afternoon call. You may be sure
+that the last thing these respectable ladies looked for was to find
+Uncle Lot and Master James _tête-à-tête_, over a pitcher of cider; and
+when, as they entered, our hero looked up with something of a
+mischievous air, Miss Grace, in particular, was so puzzled that it took
+her at least a quarter of an hour to untie her bonnet strings. But James
+staid, and acted the agreeable to perfection. First, he must needs go
+down into the garden to look at Uncle Lot's wonderful cabbages, and then
+he promenaded all around the corn patch, stopping every few moments and
+looking up with an appearance of great gratification, as if he had never
+seen such corn in his life; and then he examined Uncle Lot's favorite
+apple tree with an expression of wonderful interest.
+
+"I never!" he broke forth, having stationed himself against the fence
+opposite to it; "what kind of an apple tree is that?"
+
+"It's a bellflower, or somethin' another," said Uncle Lot.
+
+"Why, where _did_ you get it? I never saw such apples!" said our hero,
+with his eyes still fixed on the tree.
+
+Uncle Lot pulled up a stalk or two of weeds, and threw them over the
+fence, just to show that he did not care any thing about the matter; and
+then he came up and stood by James.
+
+"Nothin' so remarkable, as I know on," said he.
+
+Just then, Grace came to say that supper was ready. Once seated at
+table, it was astonishing to see the perfect and smiling assurance with
+which our hero continued his addresses to Uncle Lot. It sometimes goes a
+great way towards making people like us to take it for granted that they
+do already; and upon this principle James proceeded. He talked, laughed,
+told stories, and joked with the most fearless assurance, occasionally
+seconding his words by looking Uncle Lot in the face, with a countenance
+so full of good will as would have melted any snowdrift of prejudices in
+the world.
+
+James also had one natural accomplishment, more courtier-like than all
+the diplomacy in Europe, and that was the gift of feeling a _real_
+interest for any body in five minutes; so that, if he began to please in
+jest, he generally ended in earnest. With great simplicity of mind, he
+had a natural tact for seeing into others, and watched their motions
+with the same delight with which a child gazes at the wheels and springs
+of a watch, to "see what it will do."
+
+The rough exterior and latent kindness of Uncle Lot were quite a
+spirit-stirring study; and when tea was over, as he and Grace happened
+to be standing together in the front door, he broke forth,--
+
+"I do really like your father, Grace!"
+
+"Do you?" said Grace.
+
+"Yes, I do. He has something _in him_, and I like him all the better for
+having to fish it out."
+
+"Well, I hope you will make him like you," said Grace, unconsciously;
+and then she stopped, and looked a little ashamed.
+
+James was too well bred to see this, or look as if Grace meant any more
+than she said--a kind of breeding not always attendant on more
+fashionable polish--so he only answered,--
+
+"I think I shall, Grace, though I doubt whether I can get him to own
+it."
+
+"He is the kindest man that ever was," said Grace; "and he always acts
+as if he was ashamed of it."
+
+James turned a little away, and looked at the bright evening sky, which
+was glowing like a calm, golden sea; and over it was the silver new
+moon, with one little star to hold the candle for her. He shook some
+bright drops off from a rosebush near by, and watched to see them shine
+as they fell, while Grace stood very quietly waiting for him to speak
+again.
+
+"Grace," said he, at last, "I am going to college this fall."
+
+"So you told me yesterday," said Grace.
+
+James stooped down over Grace's geranium, and began to busy himself with
+pulling off all the dead leaves, remarking in the mean while,--
+
+"And if I do get _him_ to like me, Grace, will you like me too?"
+
+"I like you now very well," said Grace.
+
+"Come, Grace, you know what I mean," said James, looking steadfastly at
+the top of the apple tree.
+
+"Well, I wish, then, you would understand what _I_ mean, without my
+saying any more about it," said Grace.
+
+"O, to be sure I will!" said our hero, looking up with a very
+intelligent air; and so, as Aunt Sally would say, the matter was
+settled, with "no words about it."
+
+Now shall we narrate how our hero, as he saw Uncle Lot approaching the
+door, had the impudence to take out his flute, and put the parts
+together, arranging and adjusting the stops with great composure?
+
+"Uncle Lot," said he, looking up, "this is the best flute that ever I
+saw."
+
+"I hate them tooting critturs," said Uncle Lot, snappishly.
+
+"I declare! I wonder how you can," said James, "for I do think they
+exceed----"
+
+So saying, he put the flute to his mouth, and ran up and down a long
+flourish.
+
+"There! what do you think of that?" said he, looking in Uncle Lot's face
+with much delight.
+
+Uncle Lot turned and marched into the house, but soon faced to the
+right-about, and came out again, for James was fingering "Yankee
+Doodle"--that appropriate national air for the descendants of the
+Puritans.
+
+Uncle Lot's patriotism began to bestir itself; and now, if it had been
+any thing, as he said, but "that 'are flute"--as it was, he looked more
+than once at James's fingers.
+
+"How under the sun _could_ you learn to do that?" said he.
+
+"O, it's easy enough," said James, proceeding with another tune; and,
+having played it through, he stopped a moment to examine the joints of
+his flute, and in the mean time addressed Uncle Lot: "You can't think
+how grand this is for pitching tunes--I always pitch the tunes on Sunday
+with it."
+
+"Yes; but I don't think it's a right and fit instrument for the Lord's
+house," said Uncle Lot.
+
+"Why not? It is only a kind of a long pitchpipe, you see," said James;
+"and, seeing the old one is broken, and this will answer, I don't see
+why it is not better than nothing."
+
+"Why, yes, it may be better than nothing," said Uncle Lot; "but, as I
+always tell Grace and my wife, it ain't the right kind of instrument,
+after all; it ain't solemn."
+
+"Solemn!" said James; "that is according as you work it: see here, now."
+
+So saying, he struck up Old Hundred, and proceeded through it with great
+perseverance.
+
+"There, now!" said he.
+
+"Well, well, I don't know but it is," said Uncle Lot; "but, as I said at
+first, I don't like the look of it in meetin'."
+
+"But yet you really think it is better than nothing," said James, "for
+you see I couldn't pitch my tunes without it."
+
+"Maybe 'tis," said Uncle Lot; "but that isn't sayin' much."
+
+This, however, was enough for Master James, who soon after departed,
+with his flute in his pocket, and Grace's last words in his heart;
+soliloquizing as he shut the gate, "There, now, I hope Aunt Sally won't
+go to praising me; for, just so sure as she does, I shall have it all to
+do over again."
+
+James was right in his apprehension. Uncle Lot could be privately
+converted, but not brought to open confession; and when, the next
+morning, Aunt Sally remarked, in the kindness of her heart,--
+
+"Well, I always knew you would come to like James," Uncle Lot only
+responded, "Who said I did like him?"
+
+"But I'm sure you _seemed_ to like him last night."
+
+"Why, I couldn't turn him out o' doors, could I? I don't think nothin'
+of him but what I always did."
+
+But it was to be remarked that Uncle Lot contented himself at this time
+with the mere general avowal, without running it into particulars, as
+was formerly his wont. It was evident that the ice had begun to melt,
+but it might have been a long time in dissolving, had not collateral
+incidents assisted.
+
+It so happened that, about this time, George Griswold, the only son
+before referred to, returned to his native village, after having
+completed his theological studies at a neighboring institution. It is
+interesting to mark the gradual development of mind and heart, from the
+time that the white-headed, bashful boy quits the country village for
+college, to the period when he returns, a formed and matured man, to
+notice how gradually the rust of early prejudices begins to cleave from
+him--how his opinions, like his handwriting, pass from the cramped and
+limited forms of a country school into that confirmed and characteristic
+style which is to mark the man for life. In George this change was
+remarkably striking. He was endowed by nature with uncommon acuteness of
+feeling and fondness for reflection--qualities as likely as any to
+render a child backward and uninteresting in early life.
+
+When he left Newbury for college, he was a taciturn and apparently
+phlegmatic boy, only evincing sensibility by blushing and looking
+particularly stupefied whenever any body spoke to him. Vacation after
+vacation passed, and he returned more and more an altered being; and he
+who once shrunk from the eye of the deacon, and was ready to sink if he
+met the minister, now moved about among the dignitaries of the place
+with all the composure of a superior being.
+
+It was only to be regretted that, while the mind improved, the physical
+energies declined, and that every visit to his home found him paler,
+thinner, and less prepared in body for the sacred profession to which he
+had devoted himself. But now he was returned, a minister--a real
+minister, with a right to stand in the pulpit and preach; and what a joy
+and glory to Aunt Sally--and to Uncle Lot, if he were not ashamed to own
+it!
+
+The first Sunday after he came, it was known far and near that George
+Griswold was to preach; and never was a more ready and expectant
+audience.
+
+As the time for reading the first psalm approached, you might see the
+white-headed men turning their faces attentively towards the pulpit; the
+anxious and expectant old women, with their little black bonnets, bent
+forward to see him rise. There were the children looking, because every
+body else looked; there was Uncle Lot in the front pew, his face
+considerately adjusted; there was Aunt Sally, seeming as pleased as a
+mother could seem; and Miss Grace, lifting her sweet face to her
+brother, like a flower to the sun; there was our friend James in the
+front gallery, his joyous countenance a little touched with sobriety and
+expectation; in short, a more embarrassingly attentive audience never
+greeted the first effort of a young minister. Under these circumstances
+there was something touching in the fervent self-forgetfulness which
+characterized the first exercises of the morning--something which moved
+every one in the house.
+
+The devout poetry of his prayer, rich with the Orientalism of Scripture,
+and eloquent with the expression of strong yet chastened emotion,
+breathed over his audience like music, hushing every one to silence, and
+beguiling every one to feeling. In the sermon, there was the strong
+intellectual nerve, the constant occurrence of argument and statement,
+which distinguishes a New England discourse; but it was touched with
+life by the intense, yet half-subdued, feeling with which he seemed to
+utter it. Like the rays of the sun, it enlightened and melted at the
+same moment.
+
+The strong peculiarities of New England doctrine, involving, as they do,
+all the hidden machinery of mind, all the mystery of its divine
+relations and future progression, and all the tremendous uncertainties
+of its eternal good or ill, seemed to have dwelt in his mind, to have
+burned in his thoughts, to have wrestled with his powers, and they gave
+to his manner the fervency almost of another world; while the exceeding
+paleness of his countenance, and a tremulousness of voice that seemed to
+spring from bodily weakness, touched the strong workings of his mind
+with a pathetic interest, as if the being so early absorbed in another
+world could not be long for this.
+
+When the services were over, the congregation dispersed with the air of
+people who had _felt_ rather than _heard_; and all the criticism that
+followed was similar to that of old Deacon Hart--an upright, shrewd
+man--who, as he lingered a moment at the church door, turned and gazed
+with unwonted feeling at the young preacher.
+
+"He's a blessed cre'tur!" said he, the tears actually making their way
+to his eyes; "I hain't been so near heaven this many a day. He's a
+blessed cre'tur of the Lord; that's my mind about him!"
+
+As for our friend James, he was at first sobered, then deeply moved, and
+at last wholly absorbed by the discourse; and it was only when meeting
+was over that he began to think where he really was.
+
+With all his versatile activity, James had a greater depth of mental
+capacity than he was himself aware of, and he began to feel a sort of
+electric affinity for the mind that had touched him in a way so new; and
+when he saw the mild minister standing at the foot of the pulpit stairs,
+he made directly towards him.
+
+"I do want to hear more from you," said he, with a face full of
+earnestness; "may I walk home with you?"
+
+"It is a long and warm walk," said George, smiling.
+
+"O, I don't care for that, if it does not trouble _you_," said James;
+and leave being gained, you might have seen them slowly passing along
+under the trees, James pouring forth all the floods of inquiry which the
+sudden impulse of his mind had brought out, and supplying his guide with
+more questions and problems for solution than he could have gone through
+with in a month.
+
+"I cannot answer all your questions now," said he, as they stopped at
+Uncle Lot's gate.
+
+"Well, then, when will you?" said James, eagerly. "Let me come home with
+you to-night?"
+
+The minister smiled assent, and James departed so full of new thoughts,
+that he passed Grace without even seeing her. From that time a
+friendship commenced between the two, which was a beautiful illustration
+of the affinities of opposites. It was like a friendship between morning
+and evening--all freshness and sunshine on one side, and all gentleness
+and peace on the other.
+
+The young minister, worn by long-continued ill health, by the fervency
+of his own feelings, and the gravity of his own reasonings, found
+pleasure in the healthful buoyancy of a youthful, unexhausted mind,
+while James felt himself sobered and made better by the moonlight
+tranquillity of his friend. It is one mark of a superior mind to
+understand and be influenced by the superiority of others; and this was
+the case with James. The ascendency which his new friend acquired over
+him was unlimited, and did more in a month towards consolidating and
+developing his character than all the four years' course of a college.
+Our religious habits are likely always to retain the impression of the
+first seal which stamped them, and in this case it was a peculiarly
+happy one. The calmness, the settled purpose, the mild devotion of his
+friend, formed a just alloy to the energetic and reckless buoyancy of
+James's character, and awakened in him a set of feelings without which
+the most vigorous mind must be incomplete.
+
+The effect of the ministrations of the young pastor, in awakening
+attention to the subjects of his calling in the village, was marked, and
+of a kind which brought pleasure to his own heart. But, like all other
+excitement, it tends to exhaustion, and it was not long before he
+sensibly felt the decline of the powers of life. To the best regulated
+mind there is something bitter in the relinquishment of projects for
+which we have been long and laboriously preparing, and there is
+something far more bitter in crossing the long-cherished expectations of
+friends. All this George felt. He could not bear to look on his mother,
+hanging on his words and following his steps with eyes of almost
+childish delight--on his singular father, whose whole earthly ambition
+was bound up in his success, and think how soon the "candle of their old
+age" must be put out. When he returned from a successful effort, it was
+painful to see the old man, so evidently delighted, and so anxious to
+conceal his triumph, as he would seat himself in his chair, and begin
+with, "George, that 'are doctrine is rather of a puzzler; but you seem
+to think you've got the run on't. I should re'ly like to know what
+business you have to think you know better than other folks about it;"
+and, though he would cavil most courageously at all George's
+explanations, yet you might perceive, through all, that he was inly
+uplifted to hear how his boy could talk.
+
+If George was engaged in argument with any one else, he would sit by,
+with his head bowed down, looking out from under his shaggy eyebrows
+with a shamefaced satisfaction very unusual with him. Expressions of
+affection from the naturally gentle are not half so touching as those
+which are forced out from the hard-favored and severe; and George was
+affected, even to pain, by the evident pride and regard of his father.
+
+"He never said so much to any body before," thought he, "and what will
+he do if I die?"
+
+In such thoughts as these Grace found her brother engaged one still
+autumn morning, as he stood leaning against the garden fence.
+
+"What are you solemnizing here for, this bright day, brother George?"
+said she, as she bounded down the alley.
+
+The young man turned and looked on her happy face with a sort of
+twilight smile.
+
+"How _happy_ you are, Grace!" said he.
+
+"To be sure I am; and you ought to be too, because you are better."
+
+"I am happy, Grace--that is, I hope I shall be."
+
+"You are sick, I know you are," said Grace; "you look worn out. O, I
+wish your heart could _spring_ once, as mine does."
+
+"I am not well, dear Grace, and I fear I never shall be," said he,
+turning away, and fixing his eyes on the fading trees opposite.
+
+"O George! dear George, don't, don't say _that_; you'll break all our
+hearts," said Grace, with tears in her own eyes.
+
+"Yes, but it is _true_, sister: I do not feel it on my own account so
+much as----However," he added, "it will all be the same in heaven."
+
+It was but a week after this that a violent cold hastened the progress
+of debility into a confirmed malady. He sunk very fast. Aunt Sally, with
+the self-deceit of a fond and cheerful heart, thought every day that "he
+_would_ be better," and Uncle Lot resisted conviction with all the
+obstinate pertinacity of his character, while the sick man felt that he
+had not the heart to undeceive them.
+
+James was now at the house every day, exhausting all his energy and
+invention in the case of his friend; and any one who had seen him in his
+hours of recklessness and glee, could scarcely recognize him as the
+being whose step was so careful, whose eye so watchful, whose voice and
+touch were so gentle, as he moved around the sick bed. But the same
+quickness which makes a mind buoyant in gladness, often makes it
+gentlest and most sympathetic in sorrow.
+
+It was now nearly morning in the sick room. George had been restless and
+feverish all night; but towards day he fell into a slight slumber, and
+James sat by his side, almost holding his breath lest he should waken
+him. It was yet dusk, but the sky was brightening with a solemn glow,
+and the stars were beginning to disappear; all, save the bright and
+morning one, which, standing alone in the east, looked tenderly through
+the casement, like the eye of our heavenly Father, watching over us when
+all earthly friendships are fading.
+
+George awoke with a placid expression of countenance, and fixing his
+eyes on the brightening sky, murmured faintly,--
+
+    "The sweet, immortal morning sheds
+    Its blushes round the spheres."
+
+A moment after, a shade passed over his face; he pressed his fingers
+over his eyes, and the tears dropped silently on his pillow.
+
+"George! _dear_ George!" said James, bending over him.
+
+"It's my friends--it's my father--my mother," said he, faintly.
+
+"Jesus Christ will watch over them," said James, soothingly.
+
+"O, yes, I know he will; for _he_ loved his own which were in the world;
+he loved them unto the end. But I am dying--and before I have done any
+good."
+
+"O, do not say so," said James; "think, think what you have done, if
+only for _me_. God bless you for it! God _will_ bless you for it; it
+will follow you to heaven; it will bring me there. Yes, I will do as you
+have taught me. I will give my life, my soul, my whole strength to it;
+and then you will not have lived in vain."
+
+George smiled, and looked upward; "his face was as that of an angel;"
+and James, in his warmth, continued,--
+
+"It is not I alone who can say this; we all bless you; every one in this
+place blesses you; you will be had in everlasting remembrance by some
+hearts here, I know."
+
+"Bless God!" said George.
+
+"We do," said James. "I bless him that I ever knew you; we all bless
+him, and we love you, and shall forever."
+
+The glow that had kindled over the pale face of the invalid again faded
+as he said,--
+
+"But, James, I must, I ought to tell my father and mother; I ought to,
+and how can I?"
+
+At that moment the door opened, and Uncle Lot made his appearance. He
+seemed struck with the paleness of George's face; and coming to the side
+of the bed, he felt his pulse, and laid his hand anxiously on his
+forehead, and clearing his voice several times, inquired "if he didn't
+feel a little better."
+
+"No, father," said George; then taking his hand, he looked anxiously in
+his face, and seemed to hesitate a moment. "Father," he began, "you know
+that we ought to submit to God."
+
+There was something in his expression at this moment which flashed the
+truth into the old man's mind. He dropped his son's hand with an
+exclamation of agony, and turning quickly, left the room.
+
+"Father! father!" said Grace, trying to rouse him, as he stood with his
+arms folded by the kitchen window.
+
+"Get away, child!" said he, roughly.
+
+"Father, mother says breakfast is ready."
+
+"I don't want any breakfast," said he, turning short about. "Sally, what
+are you fixing in that 'ere porringer?"
+
+"O, it's only a little tea for George; 'twill comfort him up, and make
+him feel better, poor fellow."
+
+"You won't make him feel better--he's gone," said Uncle Lot, hoarsely.
+
+"O, dear heart, no!" said Aunt Sally.
+
+"Be still a' contradicting me; I won't be contradicted all the time by
+nobody. The short of the case is, that George is goin' to _die_ just as
+we've got him ready to be a minister and all; and I wish to pity I was
+in my grave myself, and so----" said Uncle Lot, as he plunged out of the
+door, and shut it after him.
+
+It is well for man that there is one Being who sees the suffering heart
+_as it is_, and not as it manifests itself through the repellances of
+outward infirmity, and who, perhaps, feels more for the stern and
+wayward than for those whose gentler feelings win for them human
+sympathy. With all his singularities, there was in the heart of Uncle
+Lot a depth of religious sincerity; but there are few characters where
+religion does any thing more than struggle with natural defect, and
+modify what would else be far worse.
+
+In this hour of trial, all the native obstinacy and pertinacity of the
+old man's character rose, and while he felt the necessity of submission,
+it seemed impossible to submit; and thus, reproaching himself,
+struggling in vain to repress the murmurs of nature, repulsing from him
+all external sympathy, his mind was "tempest-tossed, and not comforted."
+
+It was on the still afternoon of the following Sabbath that he was sent
+for, in haste, to the chamber of his son. He entered, and saw that the
+hour was come. The family were all there. Grace and James, side by side,
+bent over the dying one, and his mother sat afar off, with her face hid
+in her apron, "that she might not see the death of the child." The aged
+minister was there, and the Bible lay open before him. The father walked
+to the side of the bed. He stood still, and gazed on the face now
+brightening with "life and immortality." The son lifted up his eyes; he
+saw his father, smiled, and put out his hand. "I am glad _you_ are
+come," said he. "O George, to the pity, don't! _don't_ smile on me so! I
+know what is coming; I have tried, and tried, and I _can't_, I _can't_
+have it so;" and his frame shook, and he sobbed audibly. The room was
+still as death; there was none that seemed able to comfort him. At last
+the son repeated, in a sweet, but interrupted voice, those words of
+man's best Friend: "Let not your heart be troubled; in my Father's house
+are many mansions."
+
+"Yes; but I _can't help_ being troubled; I suppose the Lord's will must
+be done, but it'll _kill_ me."
+
+"O father, don't, don't break my heart," said the son, much agitated. "I
+shall see you again in heaven, and you shall see me again; and then
+'your heart shall rejoice, and your joy no man taketh from you.'"
+
+"I never shall get to heaven if I feel as I do now," said the old man.
+"I _cannot_ have it so."
+
+The mild face of the sufferer was overcast. "I wish he saw all that _I_
+do," said he, in a low voice. Then looking towards the minister, he
+articulated, "Pray for us."
+
+They knelt in prayer. It was soothing, as _real_ prayer always must be;
+and when they rose, every one seemed more calm. But the sufferer was
+exhausted; his countenance changed; he looked on his friends; there was
+a faint whisper, "Peace I leave with you"--and he was in heaven.
+
+We need not dwell on what followed. The seed sown by the righteous often
+blossoms over their grave; and so was it with this good man. The words
+of peace which he spoke unto his friends while he was yet with them came
+into remembrance after he was gone; and though he was laid in the grave
+with many tears, yet it was with softened and submissive hearts.
+
+"The Lord bless him," said Uncle Lot, as he and James were standing,
+last of all, over the grave. "I believe my heart is gone to heaven with
+him; and I think the Lord really _did_ know what was best, after all."
+
+Our friend James seemed now to become the support of the family; and the
+bereaved old man unconsciously began to transfer to him the affections
+that had been left vacant.
+
+"James," said he to him one day, "I suppose you know that you are about
+the same to me as a son."
+
+"I hope so," said James, kindly.
+
+"Well, well, you'll go to college next week, and none o' y'r keepin'
+school to get along. I've got enough to bring you safe out--that is, if
+you'll be _car'ful_ and _stiddy_."
+
+James knew the heart too well to refuse a favor in which the poor old
+man's mind was comforting itself. He had the self-command to abstain
+from any extraordinary expressions of gratitude, but took it kindly, as
+a matter of course.
+
+"Dear Grace," said he to her, the last evening before he left home, "I
+am changed; we both are altered since we first knew each other; and now
+I am going to be gone a long time, but I am sure----"
+
+He stopped to arrange his thoughts.
+
+"Yes, you may be sure of all those things that you wish to say, and
+cannot," said Grace.
+
+"Thank you," said James; then, looking thoughtfully, he added, "God help
+me. I believe I have mind enough to be what I mean to; but whatever I am
+or have shall be given to God and my fellow-men; and then, Grace, your
+brother in heaven will rejoice over me."
+
+"I believe he does _now_," said Grace. "God bless you, James; I don't
+know what would have become of us if you had not been here."
+
+"Yes, you will live to be like him, and to do even more good," she
+added, her face brightening as she spoke, till James thought she really
+must be right.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was five years after this that James was spoken of as an eloquent and
+successful minister in the state of C., and was settled in one of its
+most thriving villages. Late one autumn evening, a tall, bony,
+hard-favored man was observed making his way into the outskirts of the
+place.
+
+"Halloa, there!" he called to a man over the other side of a fence;
+"what town is this 'ere?"
+
+"It's Farmington, sir."
+
+"Well, I want to know if you know any thing of a boy of mine that lives
+here?"
+
+"A boy of yours? Who?"
+
+"Why, I've got a boy here, that's livin' _on the town_, and I thought
+I'd jest look him up."
+
+"I don't know any boy that is living on the town. What's his name?"
+
+"Why," said the old man, pushing his hat off from his forehead, "I
+believe they call him James Benton."
+
+"James Benton! Why, that is our minister's name!"
+
+"O, wal, I believe he _is_ the minister, come to think on't. He's a boy
+o' mine, though. Where does he live?"
+
+"In that white house that you see set back from the road there, with all
+those trees round it."
+
+At this instant a tall, manly-looking person approached from behind.
+Have we not seen that face before? It is a touch graver than of old, and
+its lines have a more thoughtful significance; but all the vivacity of
+James Benton sparkles in that quick smile as his eye falls on the old
+man.
+
+"I _thought_ you could not keep away from us long," said he, with the
+prompt cheerfulness of his boyhood, and laying hold of both of Uncle
+Lot's hard hands.
+
+They approached the gate; a bright face glances past the window, and in
+a moment Grace is at the door.
+
+"Father! _dear_ father!"
+
+"You'd _better_ make believe be so glad," said Uncle Lot, his eyes
+glistening as he spoke.
+
+"Come, come, father, I have authority in these days," said Grace,
+drawing him towards the house; "so no disrespectful speeches; away with
+your hat and coat, and sit down in this great chair."
+
+"So, ho! Miss Grace," said Uncle Lot, "you are at your old tricks,
+ordering round as usual. Well, if I must, I must;" so down he sat.
+
+"Father," said Grace, as he was leaving them, after a few days' stay,
+"it's Thanksgiving day next month, and you and mother must come and stay
+with us."
+
+Accordingly, the following month found Aunt Sally and Uncle Lot by the
+minister's fireside, delighted witnesses of the Thanksgiving presents
+which a willing people were pouring in; and the next day they had once
+more the pleasure of seeing a son of theirs in the sacred desk, and
+hearing a sermon that every body said was "the best that he ever
+preached;" and it is to be remarked, that this was the standing
+commentary on all James's discourses, so that it was evident he was
+going on unto perfection.
+
+"There's a great deal that's worth having in this 'ere life after all,"
+said Uncle Lot, as he sat by the coals of the bright evening fire of
+that day; "that is, if we'd only take it when the Lord lays it in our
+way."
+
+"Yes," said James; "and let us only take it as we should, and this life
+will be cheerfulness, and the next fulness of joy."
+
+
+
+
+LOVE _versus_ LAW.
+
+
+How many kinds of beauty there are! How many even in the human form!
+There are the bloom and motion of childhood, the freshness and ripe
+perfection of youth, the dignity of manhood, the softness of woman--all
+different, yet each in its kind perfect.
+
+But there is none so peculiar, none that bears more the image of the
+heavenly, than the beauty of _Christian old age_. It is like the
+loveliness of those calm autumn days, when the heats of summer are past,
+when the harvest is gathered into the garner, and the sun shines over
+the placid fields and fading woods, which stand waiting for their last
+change. It is a beauty more strictly moral, more belonging to the soul,
+than that of any other period of life. Poetic fiction always paints the
+old man as a Christian; nor is there any period where the virtues of
+Christianity seem to find a more harmonious development. The aged man,
+who has outlived the hurry of passion--who has withstood the urgency of
+temptation--who has concentrated the religious impulses of youth into
+habits of obedience and love--who, having served his generation by the
+will of God, now leans in helplessness on Him whom once he served, is,
+perhaps, one of the most faultless representations of the beauty of
+holiness that this world affords.
+
+Thoughts something like these arose in my mind as I slowly turned my
+footsteps from the graveyard of my native village, where I had been
+wandering after years of absence. It was a lovely spot--a soft slope of
+ground close by a little stream, that ran sparkling through the cedars
+and junipers beyond it, while on the other side arose a green hill, with
+the white village laid like a necklace of pearls upon its bosom.
+
+There is no feature of the landscape more picturesque and peculiar than
+that of the graveyard--that "city of the silent," as it is beautifully
+expressed by the Orientals--standing amid the bloom and rejoicing of
+nature, its white stones glittering in the sun, a memorial of decay, a
+link between the living and the dead.
+
+As I moved slowly from mound to mound, and read the inscriptions, which
+purported that many a money-saving man, and many a busy, anxious
+housewife, and many a prattling, half-blossomed child, had done with
+care or mirth, I was struck with a plain slab, bearing the inscription,
+"_To the memory of Deacon Enos Dudley, who died in his hundredth year_."
+My eye was caught by this inscription, for in other years I had well
+known the person it recorded. At this instant, his mild and venerable
+form arose before me as erst it used to rise from the deacon's seat, a
+straight, close slip just below the pulpit. I recollect his quiet and
+lowly coming into meeting, precisely ten minutes before the time, every
+Sunday,--his tall form a little stooping,--his best suit of
+butternut-colored Sunday clothes, with long flaps and wide cuffs, on one
+of which two pins were always to be seen stuck in with the most reverent
+precision. When seated, the top of the pew came just to his chin, so
+that his silvery, placid head rose above it like the moon above the
+horizon. His head was one that might have been sketched for a St.
+John--bald at the top, and around the temples adorned with a soft flow
+of bright fine hair,--
+
+    "That down his shoulders reverently spread,
+    As hoary frost with spangles doth attire
+    The naked branches of an oak half dead."
+
+He was then of great age, and every line of his patient face seemed to
+say, "And now, Lord, what wait I for?" Yet still, year after year, was
+he to be seen in the same place, with the same dutiful punctuality.
+
+The services he offered to his God were all given with the exactness of
+an ancient Israelite. No words could have persuaded him of the propriety
+of meditating when the choir was singing, or of sitting down, even
+through infirmity, before the close of the longest prayer that ever was
+offered. A mighty contrast was he to his fellow-officer, Deacon Abrams,
+a tight, little, tripping, well-to-do man, who used to sit beside him
+with his hair brushed straight up like a little blaze, his coat buttoned
+up trig and close, his psalm book in hand, and his quick gray eyes
+turned first on one side of the broad aisle, and then on the other, and
+then up into the gallery, like a man who came to church on business, and
+felt responsible for every thing that was going on in the house.
+
+A great hinderance was the business talent of this good little man to
+the enjoyments of us youngsters, who, perched along in a row on a low
+seat in front of the pulpit, attempted occasionally to diversify the
+long hour of sermon by sundry small exercises of our own, such as making
+our handkerchiefs into rabbits, or exhibiting, in a sly way, the apples
+and gingerbread we had brought for a Sunday dinner, or pulling the ears
+of some discreet meeting-going dog, who now and then would soberly
+pitapat through the broad aisle. But woe be to us during our contraband
+sports, if we saw Deacon Abrams's sleek head dodging up from behind the
+top of the deacon's seat. Instantly all the apples, gingerbread, and
+handkerchiefs vanished, and we all sat with our hands folded, looking as
+demure as if we understood every word of the sermon, and more too.
+
+There was a great contrast between these two deacons in their services
+and prayers, when, as was often the case, the absence of the pastor
+devolved on them the burden of conducting the duties of the sanctuary.
+That God was great and good, and that we all were sinners, were truths
+that seemed to have melted into the heart of Deacon Enos, so that his
+very soul and spirit were bowed down with them. With Deacon Abrams it
+was an _undisputed fact_, which he had settled long ago, and concerning
+which he felt that there could be no reasonable doubt, and his bustling
+way of dealing with the matter seemed to say that he knew _that_ and a
+great many things besides.
+
+Deacon Enos was known far and near as a very proverb for peacefulness of
+demeanor and unbounded charitableness in covering and excusing the
+faults of others. As long as there was any doubt in a case of alleged
+evil doing, Deacon Enos _guessed_ "the man did not mean any harm, after
+all;" and when transgression became too barefaced for this excuse, he
+always guessed "it wa'n't best to say much about it; nobody could tell
+what _they_ might be left to."
+
+Some incidents in his life will show more clearly these traits. A
+certain shrewd landholder, by the name of Jones, who was not well
+reported of in the matter of honesty, sold to Deacon Enos a valuable lot
+of land, and received the money for it; but, under various pretences,
+deferred giving the deed. Soon after, he died; and, to the deacon's
+amazement, the deed was nowhere to be found, while this very lot of land
+was left by will to one of his daughters.
+
+The deacon said "it was very extraor'nary: he always knew that Seth
+Jones was considerably sharp about money, but he did not think he would
+do such a right up-and-down wicked thing." So the old man repaired to
+'Squire Abel to state the case, and see if there was any redress. "I
+kinder hate to tell of it," said he; "but, 'Squire Abel, you know Mr.
+Jones was--was--_what he was_, even if he _is_ dead and gone!" This was
+the nearest approach the old gentleman could make to specifying a heavy
+charge against the dead. On being told that the case admitted of no
+redress, Deacon Enos comforted himself with half soliloquizing, "Well,
+at any rate, the land has gone to those two girls, poor lone critters--I
+hope it will do _them_ some good. There is Silence--we won't say much
+about her; but Sukey is a nice, pretty girl." And so the old man
+departed, leaving it as his opinion that, since the matter could not be
+mended, it was just as well not to say any thing about it.
+
+Now, the two girls here mentioned (to wit, Silence and Sukey) were the
+eldest and the youngest of a numerous, family, the offspring of three
+wives of Seth Jones, of whom these two were the sole survivors. The
+elder, Silence, was a tall, strong, black-eyed, hard-featured woman,
+verging upon forty, with a good, loud, resolute voice, and what the
+Irishman would call "a dacent notion of using it." Why she was called
+_Silence_ was a standing problem to the neighborhood; for she had more
+faculty and inclination for making a noise than any person in the whole
+township. Miss Silence was one of those persons who have no disposition
+to yield any of their own rights. She marched up to all controverted
+matters, faced down all opposition, held her way lustily and with good
+courage, making men, women, and children turn out for her, as they would
+for a mail stage. So evident was her innate determination to be free and
+independent, that, though she was the daughter of a rich man, and well
+portioned, only one swain was ever heard of who ventured to solicit her
+hand in marriage; and he was sent off with the assurance that, if he
+ever showed his face about the house again, she would set the dogs on
+him.
+
+But Susan Jones was as different from her sister as the little graceful
+convolvulus from the great rough stick that supports it. At the time of
+which we speak she was just eighteen; a modest, slender, blushing girl,
+as timid and shrinking as her sister was bold and hardy. Indeed, the
+education of poor Susan had cost Miss Silence much painstaking and
+trouble, and, after all, she said "the girl would make a fool of
+herself; she never could teach her to be up and down with people, as she
+was."
+
+When the report came to Miss Silence's ears that Deacon Enos considered
+himself as aggrieved by her father's will, she held forth upon the
+subject with great strength of courage and of lungs. "Deacon Enos might
+be in better business than in trying to cheat orphans out of their
+rights--she hoped he would go to law about it, and see what good he
+would get by it--a pretty church member and deacon, to be sure! getting
+up such a story about her poor father, dead and gone!"
+
+"But, Silence," said Susan, "Deacon Enos is a good man: I do not think
+he means to injure any one; there must be some mistake about it."
+
+"Susan, you are a little fool, as I have always told you," replied
+Silence; "you would be cheated out of your eye teeth if you had not me
+to take care of you."
+
+But subsequent events brought the affairs of these two damsels in closer
+connection with those of Deacon Enos, as we shall proceed to show.
+
+It happened that the next door neighbor of Deacon Enos was a certain old
+farmer, whose crabbedness of demeanor had procured for him the name of
+_Uncle Jaw_. This agreeable surname accorded very well with the general
+characteristics both of the person and manner of its possessor. He was
+tall and hard-favored, with an expression of countenance much resembling
+a north-east rain storm--a drizzling, settled sulkiness, that seemed to
+defy all prospect of clearing off, and to take comfort in its own
+disagreeableness. His voice seemed to have taken lessons of his face, in
+such admirable keeping was its sawing, deliberate growl with the
+pleasing physiognomy before indicated. By nature he was endowed with one
+of those active, acute, hair-splitting minds, which can raise forty
+questions for dispute on any point of the compass; and had he been an
+educated man, he might have proved as clever a metaphysician as ever
+threw dust in the eyes of succeeding generations. But being deprived of
+these advantages, he nevertheless exerted himself to quite as useful a
+purpose in puzzling and mystifying whomsoever came in his way. But his
+activity particularly exercised itself in the line of the law, as it was
+his meat, and drink, and daily meditation, either to find something to
+go to law about, or to go law about something he had found. There was
+always some question about an old rail fence that used to run "a
+_leetle_ more to the left hand," or that was built up "a _leetle_ more
+to the right hand," and so cut off a strip of his "_medder land_," or
+else there was some outrage of Peter Somebody's turkeys getting into his
+mowing, or Squire Moses's geese were to be shut up in the town pound, or
+something equally important kept him busy from year's end to year's end.
+Now, as a matter of private amusement, this might have answered very
+well; but then Uncle Jaw was not satisfied to fight his own battles, but
+must needs go from house to house, narrating the whole length and
+breadth of the case, with all the _says he's_ and _says I's_, and the _I
+tell'd him's_ and _he tell'd me's_, which do either accompany or flow
+therefrom. Moreover, he had such a marvellous facility of finding out
+matters to quarrel about, and of letting every one else know where they,
+too, could muster a quarrel, that he generally succeeded in keeping the
+whole neighborhood by the ears.
+
+And as good Deacon Enos assumed the office of peace-maker for the
+village, Uncle Jaw's efficiency rendered it no sinecure. The deacon
+always followed the steps of Uncle Jaw, smoothing, hushing up, and
+putting matters aright with an assiduity that was truly wonderful.
+
+Uncle Jaw himself had a great respect for the good man, and, in common
+with all the neighborhood, sought unto him for counsel, though, like
+other seekers of advice, he appropriated only so much as seemed good in
+his own eyes.
+
+Still he took a kind of pleasure in dropping in of an evening to Deacon
+Enos's fire, to recount the various matters which he had taken or was to
+take in hand; at one time to narrate "how he had been over the milldam,
+telling old Granny Clark that she could get the law of Seth Scran about
+that pasture lot," or else "how he had told Ziah Bacon's widow that she
+had a right to shut up Bill Scranton's pig every time she caught him in
+front of her house."
+
+But the grand "matter of matters," and the one that took up the most of
+Uncle Jaw's spare time, lay in a dispute between him and 'Squire Jones,
+the father of Susan and Silence; for it so happened that his lands and
+those of Uncle Jaw were contiguous. Now, the matter of dispute was on
+this wise: On 'Squire Jones's land there was a mill, which mill Uncle
+Jaw averred was "always a-flooding his medder land." As Uncle Jaw's
+"medder land" was by nature half bog and bulrushes, and therefore liable
+to be found in a wet condition, there was always a happy obscurity as to
+where the water came from, and whether there was at any time more there
+than belonged to his share. So, when all other subject matters of
+dispute failed, Uncle Jaw recreated himself with getting up a lawsuit
+about his "medder land;" and one of these cases was in pendency when, by
+the death of the squire, the estate was left to Susan and Silence, his
+daughters. When, therefore, the report reached him that Deacon Enos had
+been cheated out of his dues, Uncle Jaw prepared forthwith to go and
+compare notes. Therefore, one evening, as Deacon Enos was sitting
+quietly by the fire, musing and reading with his big Bible open before
+him, he heard the premonitory symptoms of a visitation from Uncle Jaw on
+his door scraper; and soon the man made his appearance. After seating
+himself directly in front of the fire, with his elbows on his knees, and
+his hands spread out over the coals, he looked up in Deacon Enos's mild
+face with his little inquisitive gray eyes, and remarked, by way of
+opening the subject, "Well, deacon, old 'Squire Jones is gone at last. I
+wonder how much good all his land will do him now?"
+
+"Yes," replied Deacon Enos, "it just shows how all these things are not
+worth striving after. We brought nothing into the world, and it is
+certain we can carry nothing out."
+
+"Why, yes," replied Uncle Jaw, "that's all very right, deacon; but it
+was strange how that old 'Squire Jones did hang on to things. Now, that
+mill of his, that was always soaking off water into these medders of
+mine--I took and tell'd 'Squire Jones just how it was, pretty nigh
+twenty times, and yet he would keep it just so; and now he's dead and
+gone, there is that old gal Silence is full as bad, and makes more
+noise; and she and Suke have got the land; but, you see, I mean to work
+it yet."
+
+Here Uncle Jaw paused to see whether he had produced any sympathetic
+excitement in Deacon Enos; but the old man sat without the least
+emotion, quietly contemplating the top of the long kitchen shovel. Uncle
+Jaw fidgeted in his chair, and changed his mode of attack for one more
+direct. "I heard 'em tell, Deacon Enos, that the squire served you
+something of an unhandy sort of trick about that 'ere lot of land."
+
+Still Deacon Enos made no reply; but Uncle Jaw's perseverance was not so
+to be put off, and he recommenced. "'Squire Abel, you see, he tell'd me
+how the matter was, and he said he did not see as it could be mended;
+but I took and tell'd him, ''Squire Abel,' says I, 'I'd bet pretty nigh
+'most any thing, if Deacon Enos would tell the matter to me, that I
+could find a hole for him to creep out at; for,' says I, 'I've seen
+daylight through more twistical cases than that afore now.'"
+
+Still Deacon Enos remained mute; and Uncle Jaw, after waiting a while,
+recommenced with, "But, railly, deacon, I should like to hear the
+particulars."
+
+"I have made up my mind not to say any thing more about that business,"
+said Deacon Enos, in a tone which, though mild, was so exceedingly
+definite, that Uncle Jaw felt that the case was hopeless in that
+quarter; he therefore betook himself to the statement of his own
+grievances.
+
+"Why, you see, deacon," he began, at the same time taking the tongs, and
+picking up all the little brands, and disposing them in the middle of
+the fire,--"you see, two days arter the funeral, (for I didn't railly
+like to go any sooner,) I stepped up to hash over the matter with old
+Silence; for as to Sukey, she ha'n't no more to do with such things than
+our white kitten. Now, you see, 'Squire Jones, just afore he died, he
+took away an old rail fence of his'n that lay between his land and mine,
+and began to build a new stone wall; and when I come to measure, I found
+he had took and put a'most the whole width of the stone wall on to my
+land, when there ought not to have been more than half of it come there.
+Now, you see, I could not say a word to 'Squire Jones, because, jest
+before I found it out, he took and died; and so I thought I'd speak to
+old Silence, and see if she meant to do any thing about it, 'cause I
+knew pretty well she wouldn't; and I tell you, if she didn't put it on
+to me! We had a regular pitched battle--the old gal, I thought she would
+'a screamed herself to death! I don't know but she would, but just then
+poor Sukey came in, and looked so frightened and scarey--Sukey is a
+pretty gal, and looks so trembling and delicate, that it's kinder a
+shame to plague her, and so I took and come away for that time."
+
+Here Uncle Jaw perceived a brightening in the face of the good deacon,
+and felt exceedingly comforted that at last he was about to interest him
+in his story.
+
+But all this while the deacon had been in a profound meditation
+concerning the ways and means of putting a stop to a quarrel that had
+been his torment from time immemorial, and just at this moment a plan
+had struck his mind which our story will proceed to unfold.
+
+The mode of settling differences which had occurred to the good man was
+one which has been considered a specific in reconciling contending
+sovereigns and states from early antiquity, and the deacon hoped it
+might have a pacifying influence even in so unpromising a case as that
+of Miss Silence and Uncle Jaw.
+
+In former days, Deacon Enos had kept the district school for several
+successive winters, and among his scholars was the gentle Susan Jones,
+then a plump, rosy little girl, with blue eyes, curly hair, and the
+sweetest disposition in the world. There was also little Joseph Adams,
+the only son of Uncle Jaw, a fine, healthy, robust boy, who used to
+spell the longest words, make the best snowballs and poplar whistles,
+and read the loudest and fastest in the Columbian Orator of any boy at
+school.
+
+Little Joe inherited all his father's sharpness, with a double share of
+good humor; so that, though he was forever effervescing in the way of
+one funny trick or another, he was a universal favorite, not only with
+the deacon, but with the whole school.
+
+Master Joseph always took little Susan Jones under his especial
+protection, drew her to school on his sled, helped her out with all the
+long sums in her arithmetic, saw to it that nobody pillaged her dinner
+basket, or knocked down her bonnet, and resolutely whipped or snowballed
+any other boy who attempted the same gallantries. Years passed on, and
+Uncle Jaw had sent his son to college. He sent him because, as he said,
+he had "_a right_ to send him; just as good a right as 'Squire Abel or
+Deacon Abrams to send their boys, and so he _would_ send him." It was
+the remembrance of his old favorite Joseph, and his little pet Susan,
+that came across the mind of Deacon Enos, and which seemed to open a
+gleam of light in regard to the future. So, when Uncle Jaw had finished
+his prelection, the deacon, after some meditation, came out with,
+"Railly, they say that your son is going to have the valedictory in
+college."
+
+Though somewhat startled at the abrupt transition, Uncle Jaw found the
+suggestion too flattering to his pride to be dropped; so, with a
+countenance grimly expressive of his satisfaction, he replied, "Why,
+yes--yes--I don't see no reason why a poor man's son ha'n't as much
+right as any one to be at the top, if he can get there."
+
+"Just so," replied Deacon Enos.
+
+"He was always the boy for larning, and for nothing else," continued
+Uncle Jaw; "put him to farming, couldn't make nothing of him. If I set
+him to hoeing corn or hilling potatoes, I'd always find him stopping to
+chase hop-toads, or off after chip-squirrels. But set him down to a
+book, and there he was! That boy larnt reading the quickest of any boy
+that ever I saw: it wasn't a month after he began his _a b, abs_,
+before he could read in the 'Fox and the Brambles,' and in a month more
+he could clatter off his chapter in the Testament as fast as any of
+them; and you see, in college, it's jest so--he has ris right up to be
+first."
+
+"And he is coming home week after next," said the deacon, meditatively.
+
+The next morning, as Deacon Enos was eating his breakfast, he quietly
+remarked to his wife, "Sally, I believe it was week after next you were
+meaning to have your quilting?"
+
+"Why, I never told you so: what alive makes you think that, Deacon
+Dudley?"
+
+"I thought that was your calculation," said the good man, quietly.
+
+"Why, no; to be sure, I _can_ have it, and may be it's the best of any
+time, if we can get Black Dinah to come and help about the cakes and
+pies. I guess we will, finally."
+
+"I think it's likely you had better," replied the deacon, "and we will
+have all the young folks here."
+
+And now let us pass over all the intermediate pounding, and grinding,
+and chopping, which for the next week foretold approaching festivity in
+the kitchen of the deacon. Let us forbear to provoke the appetite of a
+hungry reader by setting in order before him the minced pies, the
+cranberry tarts, the pumpkin pies, the doughnuts, the cookies, and other
+sweet cakes of every description, that sprang into being at the magic
+touch of Black Dinah, the village priestess on all these solemnities.
+Suffice it to say that the day had arrived, and the auspicious quilt was
+spread.
+
+The invitation had not failed to include the Misses Silence and Susan
+Jones--nay, the good deacon had pressed gallantry into the matter so far
+as to be the bearer of the message himself; for which he was duly
+rewarded by a broadside from Miss Silence, giving him what she termed a
+piece of her mind in the matter of the rights of widows and orphans; to
+all which the good old man listened with great benignity from the
+beginning to the end, and replied with,--
+
+"Well, well, Miss Silence, I expect you will think better of this before
+long; there had best not be any hard words about it." So saying, he took
+up his hat and walked off, while Miss Silence, who felt extremely
+relieved by having blown off steam, declared that "it was of no more use
+to hector old Deacon Enos than to fire a gun at a bag of cotton wool.
+For all that, though, she shouldn't go to the quilting; nor, more,
+should Susan."
+
+"But, sister, why not?" said the little maiden; "I think I _shall_ go."
+And Susan said this in a tone so mildly positive that Silence was
+amazed.
+
+"What upon 'arth ails you, Susan?" said she, opening her eyes with
+astonishment; "haven't you any more spirit than to go to Deacon Enos's
+when he is doing all he can to ruin us?"
+
+"I like Deacon Enos," replied Susan; "he was always kind to me when I
+was a little girl, and I am not going to believe that he is a bad man
+now."
+
+When a young lady states that she is not going to believe a thing, good
+judges of human nature generally give up the case; but Miss Silence, to
+whom the language of opposition and argument was entirely new, could
+scarcely give her ears credit for veracity in the case; she therefore
+repeated over exactly what she said before, only in a much louder tone
+of voice, and with much more vehement forms of asseveration--a mode of
+reasoning which, if not strictly logical, has at least the sanction of
+very respectable authorities among the enlightened and learned.
+
+"Silence," replied Susan, when the storm had spent itself, "if it did
+not look like being angry with Deacon Enos, I would stay away to oblige
+you; but it would seem to every one to be taking sides in a quarrel, and
+I never did, and never will, have any part or lot in such things."
+
+"Then you'll just be trod and trampled on all your days, Susan," replied
+Silence; "but, however, if _you_ choose to make a fool of yourself, _I_
+don't;" and so saying, she flounced out of the room in great wrath. It
+so happened, however, that Miss Silence was one of those who have so
+little economy in disposing of a fit of anger, that it was all used up
+before the time of execution arrived. It followed of consequence, that,
+having unburdened her mind freely both to Deacon Enos and to Susan, she
+began to feel very much more comfortable and good-natured; and
+consequent upon that came divers reflections upon the many gossiping
+opportunities and comforts of a quilting; and then the intrusive little
+reflection, "What if she should go, after all; what harm would be done?"
+and then the inquiry, "Whether it was not her _duty_ to go and look
+after Susan, poor child, who had no mother to watch over her?" In short,
+before the time of preparation arrived, Miss Silence had fully worked
+herself up to the magnanimous determination of going to the quilting.
+Accordingly, the next day, while Susan was standing before her mirror,
+braiding up her pretty hair, she was startled by the apparition of Miss
+Silence coming into the room as stiff as a changeable silk and a high
+horn comb could make her; and "grimly determined was her look."
+
+"Well, Susan," said she, "if you _will_ go to the quilting this
+afternoon, I think it is _my duty_ to go and see to you."
+
+What would people do if this convenient shelter of _duty_ did not afford
+them a retreat in cases when they are disposed to change their minds?
+Susan suppressed the arch smile that, in spite of herself, laughed out
+at the corners of her eyes, and told her sister that she was much
+obliged to her for her care. So off they went together.
+
+Silence in the mean time held forth largely on the importance of
+standing up for one's rights, and not letting one's self be trampled on.
+
+The afternoon passed on, the elderly ladies quilted and talked scandal,
+and the younger ones discussed the merits of the various beaux who were
+expected to give vivacity to the evening entertainment. Among these the
+newly-arrived Joseph Adams, just from college, with all his literary
+honors thick about him, became a prominent subject of conversation.
+
+It was duly canvassed whether the young gentleman might be called
+handsome, and the affirmative was carried by a large majority, although
+there were some variations and exceptions; one of the party declaring
+his whiskers to be in too high a state of cultivation, another
+maintaining that they were in the exact line of beauty, while a third
+vigorously disputed the point whether he wore whiskers at all. It was
+allowed by all, however, that he had been a great beau in the town where
+he had passed his college days. It was also inquired into whether he
+were matrimonially engaged; and the negative being understood, they
+diverted themselves with predicting to one another the capture of such a
+prize; each prophecy being received with such disclaimers as "Come now!"
+"Do be still!" "Hush your nonsense!" and the like.
+
+At length the long-wished-for hour arrived, and one by one the lords of
+the creation began to make their appearance; and one of the last was
+this much admired youth.
+
+"That is Joe Adams!" "That is he!" was the busy whisper, as a tall,
+well-looking young man came into the room, with the easy air of one who
+had seen several things before, and was not to be abashed by the
+combined blaze of all the village beauties.
+
+In truth, our friend Joseph had made the most of his residence in N.,
+paying his court no less to the Graces than the Muses. His fine person,
+his frank, manly air, his ready conversation, and his faculty of
+universal adaptation had made his society much coveted among the _beau
+monde_ of N.; and though the place was small, he had become familiar
+with much good society.
+
+We hardly know whether we may venture to tell our fair readers the whole
+truth in regard to our hero. We will merely hint, in the gentlest manner
+in the world, that Mr. Joseph Adams, being undeniably first in the
+classics and first in the drawing room, having been gravely commended in
+his class by his venerable president, and gayly flattered in the drawing
+room by the elegant Miss This and Miss That, was rather inclining to the
+opinion that he was an uncommonly fine fellow, and even had the
+assurance to think that, under present circumstances, he could please
+without making any great effort--a thing which, however true it were in
+point of fact, is obviously improper to be thought of by a young man. Be
+that as it may, he moved about from one to another, shaking hands with
+all the old ladies, and listening with the greatest affability to the
+various comments on his growth and personal appearance, his points of
+resemblance to his father, mother, grandfather, and grandmother, which
+are always detected by the superior acumen of elderly females.
+
+Among the younger ones, he at once, and with full frankness, recognized
+old schoolmates, and partners in various whortleberry, chestnut, and
+strawberry excursions, and thus called out an abundant flow of
+conversation. Nevertheless, his eye wandered occasionally around the
+room, as if in search of something not there. What could it be? It
+kindled, however, with an expression of sudden brightness as he
+perceived the tall and spare figure of Miss Silence; whether owing to
+the personal fascinations of that lady, or to other causes, we leave the
+reader to determine.
+
+Miss Silence had predetermined never to speak a word again to Uncle Jaw
+or any of his race; but she was taken by surprise at the frank, extended
+hand and friendly "how d'ye do?" It was not in woman to resist so
+cordial an address from a handsome young man, and Miss Silence gave her
+hand, and replied with a graciousness that amazed herself. At this
+moment, also, certain soft blue eyes peeped forth from a corner, just
+"to see if he looked as he used to." Yes, there he was! the same dark,
+mirthful eyes that used to peer on her from behind the corners of the
+spelling book at the district school; and Susan Jones gave a deep sigh
+to those times, and then wondered why she happened to think of such
+nonsense.
+
+"How is your sister, little Miss Susan?" said Joseph.
+
+"Why, she is here--have you not seen her?" said Silence; "there she is,
+in that corner."
+
+Joseph looked, but could scarcely recognize her. There stood a tall,
+slender, blooming girl, that might have been selected as a specimen of
+that union of perfect health with delicate fairness so characteristic of
+the young New England beauty.
+
+She was engaged in telling some merry story to a knot of young girls,
+and the rich color that, like a bright spirit, constantly went and came
+in her cheeks; the dimples, quick and varying as those of a little
+brook; the clear, mild eye; the clustering curls, and, above all, the
+happy, rejoicing smile, and the transparent frankness and simplicity of
+expression which beamed like sunshine about her, all formed a
+combination of charms that took our hero quite by surprise; and when
+Silence, who had a remarkable degree of directness in all her dealings,
+called out, "Here, Susan, is Joe Adams, inquiring after you!" our
+practised young gentleman felt himself color to the roots of his hair,
+and for a moment he could scarce recollect that first rudiment of
+manners, "to make his bow like a good boy." Susan colored also; but,
+perceiving the confusion of our hero, her countenance assumed an
+expression of mischievous drollery, which, helped on by the titter of
+her companions, added not a little to his confusion.
+
+"Dense take it!" thought he, "what's the matter with me?" and, calling
+up his courage, he dashed into the formidable circle of fair ones, and
+began chattering with one and another, calling by name with or without
+introduction, remembering things that never happened, with a freedom
+that was perfectly fascinating.
+
+"Really, how handsome he has grown!" thought Susan; and she colored
+deeply when once or twice the dark eyes of our hero made the same
+observation with regard to herself, in that quick, intelligible dialect
+which eyes alone can speak. And when the little party dispersed, as they
+did very punctually at nine o'clock, our hero requested of Miss Silence
+the honor of attending her home--an evidence of discriminating taste
+which materially raised him in the estimation of that lady. It was true,
+to be sure, that Susan walked on the other side of him, her little white
+hand just within his arm; and there was something in that light touch
+that puzzled him unaccountably, as might be inferred from the frequency
+with which Miss Silence was obliged to bring up the ends of conversation
+with, "What did you say?" "What were you going to say?" and other
+persevering forms of inquiry, with which a regular-trained
+matter-of-fact talker will hunt down a poor fellow-mortal who is in
+danger of sinking into a comfortable revery.
+
+When they parted at the gate, however, Silence gave our hero a hearty
+invitation to "come and see them any time," which he mentally regarded
+as more to the point than any thing else that had been said.
+
+As Joseph soberly retraced his way homeward, his thoughts, by some
+unaccountable association, began to revert to such topics as the
+loneliness of man by himself, the need of kindred spirits, the solaces
+of sympathy, and other like matters.
+
+That night Joseph dreamed of trotting along with his dinner basket to
+the old brown school house, and vainly endeavoring to overtake Susan
+Jones, whom he saw with her little pasteboard sun bonnet a few yards in
+front of him; then he was _teetering_ with her on a long board, her
+bright little face glancing up and down, while every curl around it
+seemed to be living with delight; and then he was snowballing Tom
+Williams for knocking down Susan's doll's house, or he sat by her on a
+bench, helping her out with a long sum in arithmetic; but, with the
+mischievous fatality of dreams, the more he ciphered and expounded, the
+longer and more hopeless grew the sum; and he awoke in the morning
+pshawing at his ill luck, after having done a sum over half a dozen
+times, while Susan seemed to be looking on with the same air of arch
+drollery that he saw on her face the evening before.
+
+"Joseph," said Uncle Jaw, the next morning at breakfast, "I s'pose
+'Squire Jones's daughters were not at the quilting."
+
+"Yes, sir, they were," said our hero; "they were both there."
+
+"Why, you don't say so!"
+
+"They certainly were," persisted the son.
+
+"Well, I thought the old gal had too much spunk for that: you see there
+is a quarrel between the deacon and them gals."
+
+"Indeed!" said Joseph. "I thought the deacon never quarrelled with any
+body."
+
+"But, you see, old Silence there, she will quarrel with _him_: railly,
+that cretur is a tough one;" and Uncle Jaw leaned back in his chair, and
+contemplated the quarrelsome propensities of Miss Silence with the
+satisfaction of a kindred spirit. "But I'll fix her yet," he continued;
+"I see how to work it."
+
+"Indeed, father, I did not know that you had any thing to do with their
+affairs."
+
+"Hain't I? I should like to know if I hain't!" replied Uncle Jaw,
+triumphantly. "Now, see here, Joseph: you see, I mean you shall be a
+lawyer: I'm pretty considerable of a lawyer myself--that is, for one not
+college larnt; and I'll tell you how it is"--and thereupon Uncle Jaw
+launched forth into the case of the _medder_ land and the mill, and
+concluded with, "Now, Joseph, this 'ere is a kinder whetstone for you to
+hone up your wits on."
+
+In pursuance, therefore, of this plan of sharpening his wits in the
+manner aforesaid, our hero, after breakfast, went like a dutiful son,
+directly towards 'Squire Jones's, doubtless for the purpose of taking
+ocular survey of the meadow land, mill, and stone wall; but, by some
+unaccountable mistake, lost his way, and found himself standing before
+the door of 'Squire Jones's house.
+
+The old squire had been among the aristocracy of the village, and his
+house had been the ultimate standard of comparison in all matters of
+style and garniture. Their big front room, instead of being strewn with
+lumps of sand, duly streaked over twice a week, was resplendent with a
+carpet of red, yellow, and black stripes, while a towering pair of
+long-legged brass andirons, scoured to a silvery white, gave an air of
+magnificence to the chimney, which was materially increased by the tall
+brass-headed shovel and tongs, which, like a decorous, starched married
+couple, stood bolt upright in their places on either side. The sanctity
+of the place was still further maintained by keeping the window shutters
+always closed, admitting only so much light as could come in by a round
+hole at the top of the shutter; and it was only on occasions of
+extraordinary magnificence that the room was thrown open to profane
+eyes.
+
+Our hero was surprised, therefore, to find both the doors and windows of
+this apartment open, and symptoms evident of its being in daily
+occupation. The furniture still retained its massive, clumsy stiffness,
+but there were various tokens that lighter fingers had been at work
+there since the notable days of good Dame Jones. There was a vase of
+flowers on the table, two or three books of poetry, and a little fairy
+work-basket, from which peeped forth the edges of some worked ruffling;
+there was a small writing desk, and last, not least, in a lady's
+collection, an album, with leaves of every color of the rainbow,
+containing inscriptions, in sundry strong masculine hands, "To Susan,"
+indicating that other people had had their eyes open as well as Mr.
+Joseph Adams. "So," said he to himself, "this quiet little beauty has
+had admirers, after all;" and consequent upon this came another
+question, (which was none of his concern, to be sure,) whether the
+little lady were or were not engaged; and from these speculations he was
+aroused by a light footstep, and anon the neat form of Susan made its
+appearance.
+
+"Good morning, Miss Jones," said he, bowing.
+
+Now, there is something very comical in the feeling, when little boys
+and girls, who have always known each other as plain Susan or Joseph,
+first meet as "Mr." or "Miss" So-and-so. Each one feels half disposed,
+half afraid, to return to the old familiar form, and awkwardly fettered
+by the recollection that they are no longer children. Both parties had
+felt this the evening before, when they met in company; but now that
+they were alone together, the feeling became still stronger; and when
+Susan had requested Mr. Adams to take a chair, and Mr. Adams had
+inquired after Miss Susan's health, there ensued a pause, which, the
+longer it continued, seemed the more difficult to break, and during
+which Susan's pretty face slowly assumed an expression of the ludicrous,
+till she was as near laughing as propriety would admit; and Mr. Adams,
+having looked out at the window, and up at the mantel-piece, and down at
+the carpet, at last looked at Susan; their eyes met; the effect was
+electrical; they both smiled, and then laughed outright, after which the
+whole difficulty of conversation vanished.
+
+"Susan," said Joseph, "do you remember the old school house?"
+
+"I thought that was what you were thinking of," said Susan; "but,
+really, you have grown and altered so that I could hardly believe my
+eyes last night."
+
+"Nor I mine," said Joseph, with a glance that gave a very complimentary
+turn to the expression.
+
+Our readers may imagine that after this the conversation proceeded to
+grow increasingly confidential and interesting; that from the account of
+early life, each proceeded to let the other know something of
+intervening history, in the course of which each discovered a number of
+new and admirable traits in the other, such things being matters of very
+common occurrence. In the course of the conversation Joseph discovered
+that it was necessary that Susan should have two or three books then in
+his possession; and as promptitude is a great matter in such cases, he
+promised to bring them "to-morrow."
+
+For some time our young friends pursued their acquaintance without a
+distinct consciousness of any thing except that it was a very pleasant
+thing to be together. During the long, still afternoons, they rambled
+among the fading woods, now illuminated with the radiance of the dying
+year, and sentimentalized and quoted poetry; and almost every evening
+Joseph found some errand to bring him to the house; a book for Miss
+Susan, or a bundle of roots and herbs for Miss Silence, or some
+remarkably fine yarn for her to knit--attentions which retained our hero
+in the good graces of the latter lady, and gained him the credit of
+being "a young man that knew how to behave himself." As Susan was a
+leading member in the village choir, our hero was directly attacked with
+a violent passion for sacred music, which brought him punctually to the
+singing school, where the young people came together to sing anthems and
+fuguing tunes, and to eat apples and chestnuts.
+
+It cannot be supposed that all these things passed unnoticed by those
+wakeful eyes that are ever upon the motions of such "bright, particular
+stars;" and as is usual in such cases, many things were known to a
+certainty which were not yet known to the parties themselves. The young
+belles and beaux whispered and tittered, and passed the original jokes
+and witticisms common in such cases, while the old ladies soberly took
+the matter in hand when they went out with their knitting to make
+afternoon visits, considering how much money Uncle Jaw had, how much his
+son would have, and what all together would come to, and whether Joseph
+would be a "smart man," and Susan a good housekeeper, with all the "ifs,
+ands, and buts" of married life.
+
+But the most fearful wonders and prognostics crowded around the point
+"what Uncle Jaw would have to say to the matter." His lawsuit with the
+sisters being well understood, as there was every reason it should be,
+it was surmised what two such vigorous belligerents as himself and Miss
+Silence would say to the prospect of a matrimonial conjunction. It was
+also reported that Deacon Enos Dudley had a claim to the land which
+constituted the finest part of Susan's portion, the loss of which would
+render the consent of Uncle Jaw still more doubtful. But all this while
+Miss Silence knew nothing of the matter, for her habit of considering
+and treating Susan as a child seemed to gain strength with time. Susan
+was always to be seen to, and watched, and instructed, and taught; and
+Miss Silence could not conceive that one who could not even make
+pickles, without her to oversee, could think of such a matter as setting
+up housekeeping on her own account. To be sure, she began to observe an
+extraordinary change in her sister; remarked that "lately Susan seemed
+to be getting sort o' crazy-headed;" that she seemed not to have any
+"faculty" for any thing; that she had made gingerbread twice, and forgot
+the ginger one time, and put in mustard the other; that she shook the
+saltcellar out in the tablecloth, and let the cat into the pantry half a
+dozen times; and that when scolded for these sins of omission or
+commission, she had a fit of crying, and did a little worse than before.
+Silence was of opinion that Susan was getting to be "weakly and naarvy,"
+and actually concocted an unmerciful pitcher of wormwood and boneset,
+which she said was to keep off the "shaking weakness" that was coming
+over her. In vain poor Susan protested that she was well enough; Miss
+Silence _knew better_; and one evening she entertained Mr. Joseph Adams
+with a long statement of the case in all its bearings, and ended with
+demanding his opinion, as a candid listener, whether the wormwood and
+boneset sentence should not be executed.
+
+Poor Susan had that very afternoon parted from a knot of young friends
+who had teased her most unmercifully on the score of attentions
+received, till she began to think the very leaves and stones were so
+many eyes to pry into her secret feelings; and then to have the whole
+case set in order before the very person, too, whom she most dreaded.
+"Certainly he would think she was acting like a fool; perhaps he did not
+mean any thing more than friendship, _after all_; and she would not for
+the world have him suppose that she cared a copper more for him than for
+any other _friend_, or that she was _in love_, of all things." So she
+sat very busy with her knitting work, scarcely knowing what she was
+about, till Silence called out,--
+
+"Why, Susan, what a piece of work you are making of that stocking heel!
+What in the world are you doing to it?"
+
+Susan dropped her knitting, and making some pettish answer, escaped out
+of the room.
+
+"Now, did you ever?" said Silence, laying down the seam she had been
+cross-stitching; "what _is_ the matter with her, Mr. Adams?"
+
+"Miss Susan is certainly indisposed," replied our hero gravely. "I must
+get her to take your advice, Miss Silence."
+
+Our hero followed Susan to the front door, where she stood looking out
+at the moon, and begged to know what distressed her.
+
+Of course it was "nothing," the young lady's usual complaint when in low
+spirits; and to show that she was perfectly easy, she began an unsparing
+attack on a white rosebush near by.
+
+"Susan!" said Joseph, laying his hand on hers, and in a tone that made
+her start. She shook back her curls, and looked up to him with such an
+innocent, confiding face!
+
+Ah, my good reader, you may go on with this part of the story for
+yourself. We are principled against unveiling the "sacred mysteries,"
+the "thoughts that breathe and words that burn," in such little
+moonlight interviews as these. You may fancy all that followed; and we
+can only assure all who are doubtful, that, under judicious management,
+cases of this kind may be disposed of without wormwood or boneset. Our
+hero and heroine were called to sublunary realities by the voice of Miss
+Silence, who came into the passage to see what upon earth they were
+doing. That lady was satisfied by the representations of so friendly and
+learned a young man as Joseph that nothing immediately alarming was to
+be apprehended in the case of Susan; and she retired. From that evening
+Susan stepped about with a heart many pounds lighter than before.
+
+"I'll tell you what, Joseph," said Uncle Jaw, "I'll tell you what, now:
+I hear 'em tell that you've took and courted that 'ere Susan Jones. Now,
+I jest want to know if it's true."
+
+There was an explicitness about this mode of inquiry that took our hero
+quite by surprise, so that he could only reply,--
+
+"Why, sir, supposing I had, would there be any objection to it in your
+mind?"
+
+"Don't talk to me," said Uncle Jaw. "I jest want to know if it's true."
+
+Our hero put his hands in his pockets, walked to the window, and
+whistled.
+
+"'Cause if you have," said Uncle Jaw, "you may jest un-court as fast as
+you can; for 'Squire Jones's daughter won't get a single cent of my
+money, I can tell you that."
+
+"Why, father, Susan Jones is not to blame for any thing that her father
+did; and I'm sure she is a pretty girl enough."
+
+"I don't care if she is pretty. What's that to me? I've got you through
+college, Joseph; and a hard time I've had of it, a-delvin' and slavin';
+and here you come, and the very first thing you do you must take and
+court that 'ere 'Squire Jones's daughter, who was always putting himself
+up above me. Besides, I mean to have the law on that estate yet; and
+Deacon Dudley, he will have the law, too; and it will cut off the best
+piece of land the girl has; and when you get married, I mean you shall
+_have_ something. It's jest a trick of them gals at me; but I guess I'll
+come up with 'em yet. I'm just a-goin' down to have a 'regular hash'
+with old Silence, to let her know she can't come round me that way."
+
+"Silence," said Susan, drawing her head into the window, and looking
+apprehensive, "there is Mr. Adams coming here."
+
+"What, Joe Adams? Well, and what if he is?"
+
+"No, no, sister, but it is his father--it is Uncle Jaw."
+
+"Well, s'pose 'tis, child--what scares you? S'pose I'm afraid of him? If
+he wants more than I gave him last time, I'll put it on." So saying,
+Miss Silence took her knitting work and marched down into the sitting
+room, and sat herself bolt upright in an attitude of defiance, while
+poor Susan, feeling her heart beat unaccountably fast, glided out of the
+room.
+
+"Well, good morning, Miss Silence," said Uncle Jaw, after having scraped
+his feet on the scraper, and scrubbed them on the mat nearly ten
+minutes, in silent deliberation.
+
+"Morning, sir," said Silence, abbreviating the "good."
+
+Uncle Jaw helped himself to a chair directly in front of the enemy,
+dropped his hat on the floor, and surveyed Miss Silence with a dogged
+air of satisfaction, like one who is sitting down to a regular,
+comfortable quarrel, and means to make the most of it.
+
+Miss Silence tossed her head disdainfully, but scorned to commence
+hostilities.
+
+"So, Miss Silence," said Uncle Jaw, deliberately, "you don't think
+you'll do any thing about that 'ere matter."
+
+"What matter?" said Silence, with an intonation resembling that of a
+roasted chestnut when it bursts from the fire.
+
+"I really thought, Miss Silence, in that 'ere talk I had with you about
+'Squire Jones's cheatin' about that 'ere----"
+
+"Mr. Adams," said Silence, "I tell you, to begin with, I'm not a going
+to be sauced in this 'ere way by you. You hain't got common decency, nor
+common sense, nor common any thing else, to talk so to me about my
+father; I won't bear it, I tell you."
+
+"Why, Miss Jones," said Uncle Jaw, "how you talk! Well, to be sure,
+'Squire Jones is dead and gone, and it's as well not to call it
+cheatin', as I was tellin' Deacon Enos when he was talking about that
+'ere lot--that 'ere lot, you know, that he sold the deacon, and never
+let him have the deed on't."
+
+"That's a lie," said Silence, starting on her feet; "that's an up and
+down black lie! I tell you that, now, before you say another word."
+
+"Miss Silence, railly, you seem to be getting touchy," said Uncle Jaw;
+"well, to be sure, if the deacon can let that pass, other folks can; and
+maybe the deacon will, because 'Squire Jones was a church member, and
+the deacon is 'mazin' tender about bringin' out any thing against
+professors; but railly, now, Miss Silence, I didn't think you and Susan
+were going to work it so cunning in this here way."
+
+"I don't know what you mean, and, what's more, I don't care," said
+Silence, resuming her work, and calling back the bolt-upright dignity
+with which she began.
+
+There was a pause of some moments, during which the features of Silence
+worked with suppressed rage, which was contemplated by Uncle Jaw with
+undisguised satisfaction.
+
+"You see, I s'pose, I shouldn't a minded your Susan's setting out to
+court up my Joe, if it hadn't a been for them things."
+
+"Courting your son! Mr. Adams, I should like to know what you mean by
+that. I'm sure nobody wants your son, though he's a civil, likely fellow
+enough; yet with such an old dragon for a father, I'll warrant he won't
+get any body to court him, nor be courted by him neither."
+
+"Railly, Miss Silence, you ain't hardly civil, now."
+
+"Civil! I should like to know who _could_ be civil. You know, now, as
+well as I do, that you are saying all this out of clear, sheer ugliness;
+and that's what you keep a doing all round the neighborhood."
+
+"Miss Silence," said Uncle Jaw, "I don't want no hard words with you.
+It's pretty much known round the neighborhood that your Susan thinks
+she'll get my Joe, and I s'pose you was thinking that perhaps it would
+be the best way of settling up matters; but you see, now, I took and
+tell'd my son I railly didn't see as I could afford it; I took and
+tell'd him that young folks must have something considerable to start
+with; and that, if Susan lost that 'ere piece of ground, as is likely
+she will, it would be cutting off quite too much of a piece; so, you
+see, I don't want you to take no encouragement about that."
+
+"Well, I think this is pretty well!" exclaimed Silence, provoked beyond
+measure or endurance; "you old torment! think I don't know what you're
+at! I and Susan courting your son? I wonder if you ain't ashamed of
+yourself, now! I should like to know what I or she have done, now, to
+get that notion into your head?"
+
+"I didn't s'pose you 'spected to get him yourself," said Uncle Jaw, "for
+I guess by this time you've pretty much gin up trying, hain't ye? But
+Susan does, I'm pretty sure."
+
+"Here, Susan! Susan! you--come down!" called Miss Silence, in great
+wrath, throwing open the chamber door. "Mr. Adams wants to speak with
+you." Susan, fluttering and agitated, slowly descended into the room,
+where she stopped, and looked hesitatingly, first at Uncle Jaw and then
+at her sister, who, without ceremony, proposed the subject matter of the
+interview as follows:--
+
+"Now, Susan, here's this man pretends to say that you've been a courting
+and snaring to get his son; and I just want you to tell him that you
+hain't never had no thought of him, and that you won't have, neither."
+
+This considerate way of announcing the subject had the effect of
+bringing the burning color into Susan's face, as she stood like a
+convicted culprit, with her eyes bent on the floor.
+
+Uncle Jaw, savage as he was, was always moved by female loveliness, as
+wild beasts are said to be mysteriously swayed by music, and looked on
+the beautiful, downcast face with more softening than Miss Silence, who,
+provoked that Susan did not immediately respond to the question, seized
+her by the arm, and eagerly reiterated,--
+
+"Susan! why don't you speak, child?"
+
+Gathering desperate courage, Susan shook off the hand of Silence, and
+straightened herself up with as much dignity as some little flower lifts
+up its head when it has been bent down by rain drops.
+
+"Silence," she said, "I never would have come down if I had thought it
+was to hear such things as this. Mr. Adams, all I have to say to you is,
+that your son has sought me, and not I your son. If you wish to know any
+more, he can tell you better than I."
+
+"Well, I vow! she is a pretty gal," said Uncle Jaw, as Susan shut the
+door.
+
+This exclamation was involuntary; then recollecting himself, he picked
+up his hat, and saying, "Well, I guess I may as well get along hum," he
+began to depart; but turning round before he shut the door, he said,
+"Miss Silence, if you should conclude to do any thing about that 'ere
+fence, just send word over and let me know."
+
+Silence, without deigning any reply, marched up into Susan's little
+chamber, where our heroine was treating resolution to a good fit of
+crying.
+
+"Susan, I did not think you had been such a fool," said the lady. "I do
+want to know, now, if you've railly been thinking of getting married,
+and to that Joe Adams of all folks!"
+
+Poor Susan! such an interlude in all her pretty, romantic little dreams
+about kindred feelings and a hundred other delightful ideas, that
+flutter like singing birds through the fairy land of first love. Such an
+interlude! to be called on by gruff human voices to give up all the
+cherished secrets that she had trembled to whisper even to herself. She
+felt as if love itself had been defiled by the coarse, rough hands that
+had been meddling with it; so to her sister's soothing address Susan
+made no answer, only to cry and sob still more bitterly than before.
+
+Miss Silence, if she had a great stout heart, had no less a kind one,
+and seeing Susan take the matter so bitterly to heart, she began
+gradually to subside.
+
+"Susan, you poor little fool, you," said she, at the same time giving
+her a hearty slap, as expressive of earnest sympathy, "I really do feel
+for you; that good-for-nothing fellow has been a cheatin' you, I do
+believe."
+
+"O, don't talk any more about it, for mercy's sake," said Susan; "I am
+sick of the whole of it."
+
+"That's you, Susan! Glad to hear you say so! I'll stand up for you,
+Susan; if I catch Joe Adams coming here again with his palavering face,
+I'll let him know!"
+
+"No, no! Don't, for mercy's sake, say any thing to Mr. Adams--don't!"
+
+"Well, child, don't claw hold of a body so! Well, at any rate, I'll just
+let Joe Adams know that we hain't nothing more to say to him."
+
+"But I don't wish to say that--that is--I don't know--indeed, sister
+Silence, don't say any thing about it."
+
+"Why not? You ain't such a _natural_, now, as to want to marry him,
+after all, hey?"
+
+"I don't know what I want, nor what I don't want; only, Silence, do now,
+if you love me, do promise not to say any thing at all to Mr.
+Adams--don't."
+
+"Well, then, I won't," said Silence; "but, Susan, if you railly was in
+love all this while, why hain't you been and told me? Don't you know
+that I'm as much as a mother to you, and you ought to have told me in
+the beginning?"
+
+"I don't know, Silence! I couldn't--I don't want to talk about it."
+
+"Well, Susan, you ain't a bit like me," said Silence--a remark evincing
+great discrimination, certainly, and with which the conversation
+terminated.
+
+That very evening our friend Joseph walked down towards the dwelling of
+the sisters, not without some anxiety for the result, for he knew by his
+father's satisfied appearance that war had been declared. He walked into
+the family room, and found nobody there but Miss Silence, who was
+sitting, grim as an Egyptian sphinx, stitching very vigorously on a meal
+bag, in which interesting employment she thought proper to be so much
+engaged as not to remark the entrance of our hero. To Joseph's
+accustomed "Good evening, Miss Silence," she replied merely by looking
+up with a cold nod, and went on with her sewing. It appeared that she
+had determined on a literal version of her promise not to say any thing
+to Mr. Adams.
+
+Our hero, as we have before stated, was familiar with the crooks and
+turns of the female mind, and mentally resolved to put a bold face on
+the matter, and give Miss Silence no encouragement in her attempt to
+make him feel himself unwelcome. It was rather a frosty autumnal
+evening, and the fire on the hearth was decaying. Mr. Joseph bustled
+about most energetically, throwing down the tongs, and shovel, and
+bellows, while he pulled the fire to pieces, raked out ashes and brands,
+and then, in a twinkling, was at the woodpile, from whence he selected a
+massive backlog and forestick, with accompaniments, which were soon
+roaring and crackling in the chimney.
+
+"There, now, that does look something like comfort," said our hero; and
+drawing forward the big rocking chair, he seated himself in it, and
+rubbed his hands with an air of great complacency. Miss Silence looked
+not up, but stitched so much the faster, so that one might distinctly
+hear the crack of the needle and the whistle of the thread all over the
+apartment.
+
+"Have you a headache to-night, Miss Silence?"
+
+"No!" was the gruff answer.
+
+"Are you in a hurry about those bags?" said he, glancing at a pile of
+unmade ones which lay by her side.
+
+No reply. "Hang it all!" said our hero to himself, "I'll make her
+speak."
+
+Miss Silence's needle book and brown thread lay on a chair beside her.
+Our friend helped himself to a needle and thread, and taking one of the
+bags, planted himself bolt upright opposite to Miss Silence, and pinning
+his work to his knee, commenced stitching at a rate fully equal to her
+own.
+
+Miss Silence looked up and fidgeted, but went on with her work faster
+than before; but the faster she worked, the faster and steadier worked
+our hero, all in "marvellous silence." There began to be an odd
+twitching about the muscles of Miss Silence's face; our hero took no
+notice, having pursed his features into an expression of unexampled
+gravity, which only grew more intense as he perceived, by certain uneasy
+movements, that the adversary was beginning to waver.
+
+As they were sitting, stitching away, their needles whizzing at each
+other like a couple of locomotives engaged in conversation, Susan opened
+the door.
+
+The poor child had been crying for the greater part of her spare time
+during the day, and was in no very merry humor; but the moment that her
+astonished eyes comprehended the scene, she burst into a fit of almost
+inextinguishable merriment, while Silence laid down her needle, and
+looked half amused and half angry. Our hero, however, continued his
+business with inflexible perseverance, unpinning his work and moving the
+seam along, and going on with increased velocity.
+
+Poor Miss Silence was at length vanquished, and joined in the loud laugh
+which seemed to convulse her sister. Whereupon our hero unpinned his
+work, and folding it up, looked up at her with all the assurance of
+impudence triumphant, and remarked to Susan,--
+
+"Your sister had such a pile of these pillow cases to make, that she was
+quite discouraged, and engaged me to do half a dozen of them: when I
+first came in she was so busy she could not even speak to me."
+
+"Well, if you ain't the beater for impudence!" said Miss Silence.
+
+"The beater for _industry_--so I thought," rejoined our hero.
+
+Susan, who had been in a highly tragical state of mind all day, and who
+was meditating on nothing less sublime than an eternal separation from
+her lover, which she had imagined, with all the affecting attendants and
+consequents, was entirely revolutionized by the unexpected turn thus
+given to her ideas, while our hero pursued the opportunity he had made
+for himself, and exerted his powers of entertainment to the utmost, till
+Miss Silence, declaring that if she had been washing all day she should
+not have been more tired than she was with laughing, took up her candle,
+and good-naturedly left our young people to settle matters between
+themselves. There was a grave pause of some length when she had
+departed, which was broken by our hero, who, seating himself by Susan,
+inquired very seriously if his father had made proposals of marriage to
+Miss Silence that morning.
+
+"No, you provoking creature!" said Susan, at the same time laughing at
+the absurdity of the idea.
+
+"Well, now, don't draw on your long face again, Susan," said Joseph;
+"you have been trying to lengthen it down all the evening, if I would
+have let you. Seriously, now, I know that something painful passed
+between my father and you this morning, but I shall not inquire what it
+was. I only tell you, frankly, that he has expressed his disapprobation
+of our engagement, forbidden me to go on with it, and----"
+
+"And, consequently, I release you from all engagements and obligations
+to me, even before you ask it," said Susan.
+
+"You are extremely accommodating," replied Joseph; "but I cannot promise
+to be as obliging in giving up certain promises made to me, unless,
+indeed, the feelings that dictated them should have changed."
+
+"O, no--no, indeed," said Susan, earnestly; "you know it is not that;
+but if your father objects to me----"
+
+"If my father objects to you, he is welcome not to marry you," said
+Joseph.
+
+"Now, Joseph, do be serious," said Susan.
+
+"Well, then, seriously, Susan, I know my obligations to my father, and
+in all that relates to his comfort I will ever be dutiful and
+submissive, for I have no college boy pride on the subject of
+submission; but in a matter so individually my own as the choice of a
+wife, in a matter that will most likely affect my happiness years and
+years after he has ceased to be, I hold that I have a right to consult
+my own inclinations, and, by your leave, my dear little lady, I shall
+take that liberty."
+
+"But, then, if your father is made angry, you know what sort of a man he
+is; and how could I stand in the way of all your prospects?"
+
+"Why, my dear Susan, do you think I count myself dependent upon my
+father, like the heir of an English estate, who has nothing to do but
+sit still and wait for money to come to him? No! I have energy and
+education to start with, and if I cannot take care of myself, and you
+too, then cast me off and welcome;" and, as Joseph spoke, his fine face
+glowed with a conscious power, which unfettered youth never feels so
+fully as in America. He paused a moment, and resumed: "Nevertheless,
+Susan, I respect my father; whatever others may say of him, I shall
+never forget that I owe to his hard earnings the education that enables
+me to do or be any thing, and I shall not wantonly or rudely cross him.
+I do not despair of gaining his consent; my father has a great
+partiality for pretty girls, and if his love of contradiction is not
+kept awake by open argument, I will trust to time and you to bring him
+round; but, whatever comes, rest assured, my dearest one, I have chosen
+for life, and cannot change."
+
+The conversation, after this, took a turn which may readily be imagined
+by all who have been in the same situation, and will, therefore, need no
+further illustration.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Well, deacon, railly I don't know what to think now: there's my Joe,
+he's took and been a courting that 'ere Susan," said Uncle Jaw.
+
+This was the introduction to one of Uncle Jaw's periodical visits to
+Deacon Enos, who was sitting with his usual air of mild abstraction,
+looking into the coals of a bright November fire, while his busy
+helpmate was industriously rattling her knitting needles by his side.
+
+A close observer might have suspected that this was _no news_ to the
+good deacon, who had given a great deal of good advice, in private, to
+Master Joseph of late; but he only relaxed his features into a quiet
+smile, and ejaculated, "I want to know!"
+
+"Yes; and railly, deacon, that 'ere gal is a rail pretty un. I was a
+tellin' my folks that our new minister's wife was a fool to her."
+
+"And so your son is going to marry her?" said the good lady; "I knew
+that long ago."
+
+"Well--no--not so fast; ye see there's two to that bargain yet. You see,
+Joe, he never said a word to me, but took and courted the gal out of his
+own head; and when I come to know, says I, 'Joe,' says I, 'that 'ere gal
+won't do for me;' and I took and tell'd him, then, about that 'ere old
+fence, and all about that old mill, and them _medder_s of mine; and I
+tell'd him, too, about that 'ere lot of Susan's; and I should like to
+know, now, deacon, how that lot business is a going to turn out."
+
+"Judge Smith and 'Squire Moseley say that my claim to it will stand,"
+said the deacon.
+
+"They do?" said Uncle Jaw, with much satisfaction; "s'pose, then, you'll
+sue, won't you?"
+
+"I don't know," replied the deacon, meditatively.
+
+Uncle Jaw was thoroughly amazed; that any one should have doubts about
+entering suit for a fine piece of land, when sure of obtaining it, was a
+problem quite beyond his powers of solving.
+
+"You say your son has courted the girl," said the deacon, after a long
+pause; "that strip of land is the best part of Susan's share; I paid
+down five hundred dollars on the nail for it; I've got papers here that
+Judge Smith and 'Squire Moseley say will stand good in any court of
+law."
+
+Uncle Jaw pricked up his ears and was all attention, eying with eager
+looks the packet; but, to his disappointment, the deacon deliberately
+laid it into his desk, shut and locked it, and resumed his seat.
+
+"Now, railly," said Uncle Jaw, "I should like to know the particulars."
+
+"Well, well," said the deacon, "the lawyers will be at my house
+to-morrow evening, and if you have any concern about it, you may as well
+come along."
+
+Uncle Jaw wondered all the way home at what he could have done to get
+himself into the confidence of the old deacon, who, he rejoiced to
+think, was a going to "take" and go to law like other folks.
+
+The next day there was an appearance of some bustle and preparation
+about the deacon's house; the best room was opened and aired; an ovenful
+of cake was baked; and our friend Joseph, with a face full of business,
+was seen passing to and fro, in and out of the house, from various
+closetings with the deacon. The deacon's lady bustled about the house
+with an air of wonderful mystery, and even gave her directions about
+eggs and raisins in a whisper, lest they should possibly let out some
+eventful secret.
+
+The afternoon of that day Joseph appeared at the house of the sisters,
+stating that there was to be company at the deacon's that evening, and
+he was sent to invite them.
+
+"Why, what's got into the deacon's folks lately," said Silence, "to have
+company so often? Joe Adams, this 'ere is some 'cut up' of yours. Come,
+what are you up to now?"
+
+"Come, come, dress yourselves and get ready," said Joseph; and, stepping
+up to Susan, as she was following Silence out of the room, he whispered
+something into her ear, at which she stopped short and colored
+violently.
+
+"Why, Joseph, what do you mean?"
+
+"It is so," said he.
+
+"No, no, Joseph; no, I can't, indeed I can't."
+
+"But you _can_, Susan."
+
+"O Joseph, don't."
+
+"O Susan, _do_."
+
+"Why, how strange, Joseph!"
+
+"Come, come, my dear, you keep me waiting. If you have any objections on
+the score of propriety, we will talk about them _to-morrow_;" and our
+hero looked so saucy and so resolute that there was no disputing
+further; so, after a little more lingering and blushing on Susan's part,
+and a few kisses and persuasions on the part of the suitor, Miss Susan
+seemed to be brought to a state of resignation.
+
+At a table in the middle of Uncle Enos's north front room were seated
+the two lawyers, whose legal opinion was that evening to be fully made
+up. The younger of these, 'Squire Moseley, was a rosy, portly, laughing
+little bachelor, who boasted that he had offered himself, in rotation,
+to every pretty girl within twenty miles round, and, among others, to
+Susan Jones, notwithstanding which he still remained a bachelor, with a
+fair prospect of being an old one; but none of these things disturbed
+the boundless flow of good nature and complacency with which he seemed
+at all times full to overflowing. On the present occasion he appeared to
+be particularly in his element, as if he had some law business in hand
+remarkably suited to his turn of mind; for, on finishing the inspection
+of the papers, he started up, slapped his graver brother on the back,
+made two or three flourishes round the room, and then seizing the old
+deacon's hand, shook it violently, exclaiming,--
+
+"All's right, deacon, all's right! Go it! go it! hurrah!"
+
+When Uncle Jaw entered, the deacon, without preface, handed him a chair
+and the papers, saying,--
+
+"These papers are what you wanted to see. I just wish you would read
+them over."
+
+Uncle Jaw read them deliberately over. "Didn't I tell ye so, deacon? The
+case is as clear as a bell: now ye will go to law, won't you?"
+
+"Look here, Mr. Adams; now you have seen these papers, and heard what's
+to be said, I'll make you an offer. Let your son marry Susan Jones, and
+I'll burn these papers and say no more about it, and there won't be a
+girl in the parish with a finer portion."
+
+Uncle Jaw opened his eyes with amazement, and looked at the old man, his
+mouth gradually expanding wider and wider, as if he hoped, in time, to
+swallow the idea.
+
+"Well, now, I swan!" at length he ejaculated.
+
+"I mean just as I say," said the deacon.
+
+"Why, that's the same as giving the gal five hundred dollars out of your
+own pocket, and she ain't no relation neither."
+
+"I know it," said the deacon; "but I have said I will do it."
+
+"What upon 'arth for?" said Uncle Jaw.
+
+"To make peace," said the deacon, "and to let you know that when I say
+it is better to give up one's rights than to quarrel, I mean so. I am an
+old man; my children are dead"--his voice faltered--"my treasures are
+laid up in heaven; if I can make the children happy, why, I will. When I
+thought I had lost the land, I made up my mind to lose it, and so I can
+now."
+
+Uncle Jaw looked fixedly on the old deacon, and said,--
+
+"Well, deacon, I believe you. I vow, if you hain't got something ahead
+in t'other world, I'd like to know who has--that's all; so, if Joe has
+no objections, and I rather guess he won't have----"
+
+"The short of the matter is," said the squire, "we'll have a wedding; so
+come on;" and with that he threw open the parlor door, where stood Susan
+and Joseph in a recess by the window, while Silence and the Rev. Mr.
+Bissel were drawn up by the fire, and the deacon's lady was sweeping up
+the hearth, as she had been doing ever since the party arrived.
+
+Instantly Joseph took the hand of Susan, and led her to the middle of
+the room; the merry squire seized the hand of Miss Silence, and placed
+her as bridesmaid, and before any one knew what they were about, the
+ceremony was in actual progress, and the minister, having been
+previously instructed, made the two one with extraordinary celerity.
+
+"What! what! what!" said Uncle Jaw. "Joseph! Deacon!"
+
+"Fair bargain, sir," said the squire. "Hand over your papers, deacon."
+
+The deacon handed them, and the squire, having read them aloud,
+proceeded, with much ceremony, to throw them into the fire; after which,
+in a mock solemn oration, he gave a statement of the whole affair, and
+concluded with a grave exhortation to the new couple on the duties of
+wedlock, which unbent the risibles even of the minister himself.
+
+Uncle Jaw looked at his pretty daughter-in-law, who stood half smiling,
+half blushing, receiving the congratulations of the party, and then at
+Miss Silence, who appeared full as much taken by surprise as himself.
+
+"Well, well, Miss Silence, these 'ere young folks have come round us
+slick enough," said he. "I don't see but we must shake hands upon it."
+And the warlike powers shook hands accordingly, which was a signal for
+general merriment.
+
+As the company were dispersing, Miss Silence laid hold of the good
+deacon, and by main strength dragged him aside. "Deacon," said she, "I
+take back all that 'ere I said about you, every word on't."
+
+"Don't say any more about it, Miss Silence," said the good man; "it's
+gone by, and let it go."
+
+"Joseph!" said his father, the next morning, as he was sitting at
+breakfast with Joseph and Susan, "I calculate I shall feel kinder proud
+of this 'ere gal! and I'll tell you what, I'll jest give you that nice
+little delicate Stanton place that I took on Stanton's mortgage: it's a
+nice little place, with green blinds, and flowers, and all them things,
+just right for Susan."
+
+And accordingly, many happy years flew over the heads of the young
+couple in the Stanton place, long after the hoary hairs of their kind
+benefactor, the deacon, were laid with reverence in the dust. Uncle Jaw
+was so far wrought upon by the magnanimity of the good old man as to be
+very materially changed for the better. Instead of quarrelling in real
+earnest all around the neighborhood, he confined himself merely to
+battling the opposite side of every question with his son, which, as the
+latter was somewhat of a logician, afforded a pretty good field for the
+exercise of his powers; and he was heard to declare at the funeral of
+the old deacon, that, "after all, a man got as much, and may be more, to
+go along as the deacon did, than to be all the time fisting and jawing;
+though I tell you what it is," said he, afterwards, "'tain't every one
+that has the deacon's _faculty_, any how."
+
+
+
+
+THE TEA ROSE.
+
+
+There it stood, in its little green vase, on a light ebony stand, in the
+window of the drawing room. The rich satin curtains, with their costly
+fringes, swept down on either side of it, and around it glittered every
+rare and fanciful trifle which wealth can offer to luxury; and yet that
+simple rose was the fairest of them all. So pure it looked, its white
+leaves just touched with that delicious creamy tint peculiar to its
+kind; its cup so full, so perfect; its head bending as if it were
+sinking and melting away in its own richness--O, when did ever man make
+any thing to equal the living, perfect flower?
+
+But the sunlight that streamed through the window revealed something
+fairer than the rose. Reclined on an ottoman, in a deep recess, and
+intently engaged with a book, rested what seemed the counterpart of that
+so lovely flower. That cheek so pale, that fair forehead so spiritual,
+that countenance so full of high thought, those long, downcast lashes,
+and the expression of the beautiful mouth, sorrowful, yet subdued and
+sweet--it seemed like the picture of a dream.
+
+"Florence! Florence!" echoed a merry and musical voice, in a sweet,
+impatient tone. Turn your head, reader, and you will see a light and
+sparkling maiden, the very model of some little wilful elf, born of
+mischief and motion, with a dancing eye, a foot that scarcely seems to
+touch the carpet, and a smile so multiplied by dimples that it seems
+like a thousand smiles at once. "Come, Florence, I say," said the little
+sprite, "put down that wise, good, and excellent volume, and descend
+from your cloud, and talk with a poor little mortal."
+
+The fair apparition, thus adjured, obeyed; and, looking up, revealed
+just such eyes as you expected to see beneath such lids--eyes deep,
+pathetic, and rich as a strain of sad music.
+
+"I say, cousin," said the "bright ladye," "I have been thinking what you
+are to do with your pet rose when you go to New York, as, to our
+consternation, you are determined to do; you know it would be a sad pity
+to leave it with such a scatterbrain as I am. I do love flowers, that is
+a fact; that is, I like a regular bouquet, cut off and tied up, to carry
+to a party; but as to all this tending and fussing, which is needful to
+keep them growing, I have no gifts in that line."
+
+"Make yourself easy as to that, Kate," said Florence, with a smile; "I
+have no intention of calling upon your talents; I have an asylum in view
+for my favorite."
+
+"O, then you know just what I was going to say. Mrs. Marshall, I
+presume, has been speaking to you; she was here yesterday, and I was
+quite pathetic upon the subject, telling her the loss your favorite
+would sustain, and so forth; and she said how delighted she would be to
+have it in her greenhouse, it is in such a fine state now, so full of
+buds. I told her I knew you would like to give it to her, you are so
+fond of Mrs. Marshall, you know."
+
+"Now, Kate, I am sorry, but I have otherwise engaged it."
+
+"Whom can it be to? you have so few intimates here."
+
+"O, it is only one of my odd fancies."
+
+"But do tell me, Florence."
+
+"Well, cousin, you know the little pale girl to whom we give sewing."
+
+"What! little Mary Stephens? How absurd! Florence, this is just another
+of your motherly, oldmaidish ways--dressing dolls for poor children,
+making bonnets and knitting socks for all the little dirty babies in the
+region round about. I do believe you have made more calls in those two
+vile, ill-smelling alleys back of our house, than ever you have in
+Chestnut Street, though you know every body is half dying to see you;
+and now, to crown all, you must give this choice little bijou to a
+seamstress girl, when one of your most intimate friends, in your own
+class, would value it so highly. What in the world can people in their
+circumstances want of flowers?"
+
+"Just the same as I do," replied Florence, calmly. "Have you not noticed
+that the little girl never comes here without looking wistfully at the
+opening buds? And don't you remember, the other morning, she asked me so
+prettily if I would let her mother come and see it, she was so fond of
+flowers?"
+
+"But, Florence, only think of this rare flower standing on a table with
+ham, eggs, cheese, and flour, and stifled in that close little room
+where Mrs. Stephens and her daughter manage to wash, iron, cook, and
+nobody knows what besides."
+
+"Well, Kate, and if I were obliged to live in one coarse room, and wash,
+and iron, and cook, as you say,--if I had to spend every moment of my
+time in toil, with no prospect from my window but a brick wall and dirty
+lane,--such a flower as this would be untold enjoyment to me."
+
+"Pshaw! Florence--all sentiment: poor people have no time to be
+sentimental. Besides, I don't believe it will grow with them; it is a
+greenhouse flower, and used to delicate living."
+
+"O, as to that, a flower never inquires whether its owner is rich or
+poor; and Mrs. Stephens, whatever else she has not, has sunshine of as
+good quality as this that streams through our window. The beautiful
+things that God makes are his gift to all alike. You will see that my
+fair rose will be as well and cheerful in Mrs. Stephens's room as in
+ours."
+
+"Well, after all, how odd! When one gives to poor people, one wants to
+give them something _useful_--a bushel of potatoes, a ham, and such
+things."
+
+"Why, certainly, potatoes and ham must be supplied; but, having
+ministered to the first and most craving wants, why not add any other
+little pleasures or gratifications we may have it in our power to
+bestow? I know there are many of the poor who have fine feeling and a
+keen sense of the beautiful, which rusts out and dies because they are
+too hard pressed to procure it any gratification. Poor Mrs. Stephens,
+for example: I know she would enjoy birds, and flowers, and music, as
+much as I do. I have seen her eye light up as she looked on these things
+in our drawing room, and yet not one beautiful thing can she command.
+From necessity, her room, her clothing, all she has, must be coarse and
+plain. You should have seen the almost rapture she and Mary felt when I
+offered them my rose."
+
+"Dear me! all this may be true, but I never thought of it before. I
+never thought that these hard-working people had any ideas of _taste_!"
+
+"Then why do you see the geranium or rose so carefully nursed in the old
+cracked teapot in the poorest room, or the morning glory planted in a
+box and twined about the window? Do not these show that the human heart
+yearns for the beautiful in all ranks of life? You remember, Kate, how
+our washerwoman sat up a whole night, after a hard day's work, to make
+her first baby a pretty dress to be baptized in."
+
+"Yes, and I remember how I laughed at you for making such a tasteful
+little cap for it."
+
+"Well, Katy, I think the look of perfect delight with which the poor
+mother regarded her baby in its new dress and cap was something quite
+worth creating: I do believe she could not have felt more grateful if I
+had sent her a barrel of flour."
+
+"Well, I never thought before of giving any thing to the poor but what
+they really needed, and I have always been willing to do that when I
+could without going far out of my way."
+
+"Well, cousin, if our heavenly Father gave to us after this mode, we
+should have only coarse, shapeless piles of provisions lying about the
+world, instead of all this beautiful variety of trees, and fruits, and
+flowers."
+
+"Well, well, cousin, I suppose you are right--but have mercy on my poor
+head; it is too small to hold so many new ideas all at once--so go on
+your own way." And the little lady began practising a waltzing step
+before the glass with great satisfaction.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was a very small room, lighted by only one window. There was no
+carpet on the floor; there was a clean, but coarsely-covered bed in one
+corner; a cupboard, with a few dishes and plates, in the other; a chest
+of drawers; and before the window stood a small cherry stand, quite new,
+and, indeed, it was the only article in the room that seemed so.
+
+A pale, sickly-looking woman of about forty was leaning back in her
+rocking chair, her eyes closed and her lips compressed as if in pain.
+She rocked backward and forward a few minutes, pressed her hand hard
+upon her eyes, and then languidly resumed her fine stitching, on which
+she had been busy since morning. The door opened, and a slender little
+girl of about twelve years of age entered, her large blue eyes dilated
+and radiant with delight as she bore in the vase with the rose tree in
+it.
+
+"O, see, mother, see! Here is one in full bloom, and two more half out,
+and ever so many more pretty buds peeping out of the green leaves."
+
+The poor woman's face brightened as she looked, first on the rose and
+then on her sickly child, on whose face she had not seen so bright a
+color for months.
+
+"God bless her!" she exclaimed, unconsciously.
+
+"Miss Florence--yes, I knew you would feel so, mother. Does it not make
+your head feel better to see such a beautiful flower? Now, you will not
+look so longingly at the flowers in the market, for we have a rose that
+is handsomer than any of them. Why, it seems to me it is worth as much
+to us as our whole little garden used to be. Only see how many buds
+there are! Just count them, and only smell the flower! Now, where shall
+we set it up?" And Mary skipped about, placing her flower first in one
+position and then in another, and walking off to see the effect, till
+her mother gently reminded her that the rose tree could not preserve its
+beauty without sunlight.
+
+"O, yes, truly," said Mary; "well, then, it must stand here on our new
+stand. How glad I am that we have such a handsome new stand for it! it
+will look so much better." And Mrs. Stephens laid down her work, and
+folded a piece of newspaper, on which the treasure was duly deposited.
+
+"There," said Mary, watching the arrangement eagerly, "that will do--no,
+for it does not show both the opening buds; a little farther around--a
+little more; there, that is right;" and then Mary walked around to view
+the rose in various positions, after which she urged her mother to go
+with her to the outside, and see how it looked there. "How kind it was
+in Miss Florence to think of giving this to us!" said Mary; "though she
+had done so much for us, and given us so many things, yet this seems the
+best of all, because it seems as if she thought of us, and knew just how
+we felt; and so few do that, you know, mother."
+
+What a bright afternoon that little gift made in that little room! How
+much faster Mary's fingers flew the livelong day as she sat sewing by
+her mother! and Mrs. Stephens, in the happiness of her child, almost
+forgot that she had a headache, and thought, as she sipped her evening
+cup of tea, that she felt stronger than she had done for some time.
+
+That rose! its sweet influence died not with the first day. Through all
+the long, cold winter, the watching, tending, cherishing that flower
+awakened a thousand pleasant trains of thought, that beguiled the
+sameness and weariness of their life. Every day the fair, growing thing
+put forth some fresh beauty--a leaf, a bud, a new shoot, and constantly
+awakened fresh enjoyment in its possessors. As it stood in the window,
+the passer by would sometimes stop and gaze, attracted by its beauty,
+and then proud and happy was Mary; nor did even the serious and
+care-worn widow notice with indifference this tribute to the beauty of
+their favorite.
+
+But little did Florence think, when she bestowed the gift, that there
+twined about it an invisible thread that reached far and brightly into
+the web of her destiny.
+
+One cold afternoon in early spring, a tall and graceful gentleman called
+at the lowly room to pay for the making of some linen by the inmates. He
+was a stranger and wayfarer, recommended through the charity of some of
+Mrs. Stephens's patrons. As he turned to go, his eye rested admiringly
+on the rose tree; and he stopped to gaze at it.
+
+"How beautiful!" said he.
+
+"Yes," said little Mary; "and it was given to us by a lady as sweet and
+beautiful as that is."
+
+"Ah," said the stranger, turning upon her a pair of bright dark eyes,
+pleased and rather struck by the communication; "and how came she to
+give it to you, my little girl?"
+
+"O, because we are poor, and mother is sick, and we never can have any
+thing pretty. We used to have a garden once; and we loved flowers so
+much, and Miss Florence found it out, and so she gave us this."
+
+"Florence!" echoed the stranger.
+
+"Yes, Miss Florence L'Estrange--a beautiful lady. They say she was from
+foreign parts; but she speaks English just like other ladies, only
+sweeter."
+
+"Is she here now? is she in this city?" said the gentleman, eagerly.
+
+"No; she left some months ago," said the widow, noticing the shade of
+disappointment on his face. "But," said she, "you can find out all about
+her at her aunt's, Mrs. Carlysle's, No. 10 ---- Street."
+
+A short time after Florence received a letter in a handwriting that made
+her tremble. During the many early years of her life spent in France she
+had well learned to know that writing--had loved as a woman like her
+loves only once; but there had been obstacles of parents and friends,
+long separation, long suspense, till, after anxious years, she had
+believed the ocean had closed over that hand and heart; and it was this
+that had touched with such pensive sorrow the lines in her lovely face.
+
+But this letter told that he was living--that he had traced her, even as
+a hidden streamlet may be traced, by the freshness, the verdure of
+heart, which her deeds of kindness had left wherever she had passed.
+Thus much said, our readers need no help in finishing my story for
+themselves.
+
+
+
+
+TRIALS OF A HOUSEKEEPER.
+
+
+I have a detail of very homely grievances to present; but such as they
+are, many a heart will feel them to be heavy--_the trials of a
+housekeeper_.
+
+"Poh!" says one of the lords of creation, taking his cigar out of his
+mouth, and twirling it between his two first fingers, "what a fuss these
+women do make of this simple matter of _managing a family_! I can't see
+for my life as there is any thing so extraordinary to be done in this
+matter of housekeeping: only three meals a day to be got and cleared
+off--and it really seems to take up the whole of their mind from morning
+till night. _I_ could keep house without so much of a flurry, I know."
+
+Now, prithee, good brother, listen to my story, and see how much you
+know about it. I came to this enlightened West about a year since, and
+was duly established in a comfortable country residence within a mile
+and a half of the city, and there commenced the enjoyment of domestic
+felicity. I had been married about three months, and had been previously
+_in love_ in the most approved romantic way, with all the proprieties of
+moonlight walks, serenades, sentimental billets doux, and everlasting
+attachment.
+
+After having been allowed, as I said, about three months to get over
+this sort of thing, and to prepare for realities, I was located for life
+as aforesaid. My family consisted of myself and husband, a female friend
+as a visitor, and two brothers of my good man, who were engaged with him
+in business.
+
+I pass over the two or three first days, spent in that process of
+hammering boxes, breaking crockery, knocking things down and picking
+them up again, which is commonly called getting to housekeeping. As
+usual, carpets were sewed and stretched, laid down, and taken up to be
+sewed over; things were formed, and _re_formed, _trans_formed, and
+_con_formed, till at last a settled order began to appear. But now came
+up the great point of all. During our confusion we had cooked and eaten
+our meals in a very miscellaneous and pastoral manner, eating now from
+the top of a barrel and now from a fireboard laid on two chairs, and
+drinking, some from teacups, and some from saucers, and some from
+tumblers, and some from a pitcher big enough to be drowned in, and
+sleeping, some on sofas, and some on straggling beds and mattresses
+thrown down here and there wherever there was room. All these pleasant
+barbarities were now at an end. The house was in order, the dishes put
+up in their places; three regular meals were to be administered in one
+day, all in an orderly, civilized form; beds were to be made, rooms
+swept and dusted, dishes washed, knives scoured, and all the et cetera
+to be attended to. Now for getting "_help_," as Mrs. Trollope says; and
+where and how were we to get it? We knew very few persons in the city;
+and how were we to accomplish the matter? At length the "house of
+employment" was mentioned; and my husband was despatched thither
+regularly every day for a week, while I, in the mean time, was very
+nearly _despatched_ by the abundance of work at home. At length, one
+evening, as I was sitting completely exhausted, thinking of resorting to
+the last feminine expedient for supporting life, viz., a good fit of
+crying, my husband made his appearance, with a most triumphant air, at
+the door. "There, Margaret, I have got you a couple at last--cook and
+chambermaid." So saying, he flourished open the door, and gave to my
+view the picture of a little, dry, snuffy-looking old woman, and a
+great, staring Dutch girl, in a green bonnet with red ribbons, with
+mouth wide open, and hands and feet that would have made a Greek
+sculptor open _his_ mouth too. I addressed forthwith a few words of
+encouragement to each of this cultivated-looking couple, and proceeded
+to ask their names; and forthwith the old woman began to snuffle and to
+wipe her face with what was left of an old silk pocket handkerchief
+preparatory to speaking, while the young lady opened her mouth wider,
+and looked around with a frightened air, as if meditating an escape.
+After some preliminaries, however, I found out that my old woman was
+Mrs. Tibbins, and my Hebe's name was _Kotterin;_ also, that she knew
+much more Dutch than English, and not any too much of either. The old
+lady was the cook. I ventured a few inquiries. "Had she ever cooked?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am, sartain; she had lived at two or three places in the city."
+
+"I suspect, my dear," said my husband confidently, "that she is an
+experienced cook, and so your troubles are over;" and he went to reading
+his newspaper. I said no more, but determined to wait till morning. The
+breakfast, to be sure, did not do much honor to the talents of my
+official; but it was the first time, and the place was new to her. After
+breakfast was cleared away I proceeded to give directions for dinner; it
+was merely a plain joint of meat, I said, to be roasted in the tin oven.
+The _experienced cook_ looked at me with a stare of entire vacuity. "The
+tin oven," I repeated, "stands there," pointing to it.
+
+She walked up to it, and touched it with such an appearance of suspicion
+as if it had been an electrical battery, and then looked round at me
+with a look of such helpless ignorance that my soul was moved. "I never
+see one of them things before," said she.
+
+"Never saw a tin oven!" I exclaimed. "I thought you said you had cooked
+in two or three families."
+
+"They does not have such things as them, though," rejoined my old lady.
+Nothing was to be done, of course, but to instruct her into the
+philosophy of the case; and having spitted the joint, and given
+numberless directions, I walked off to my room to superintend the
+operations of Kotterin, to whom I had committed the making of my bed and
+the sweeping of my room, it never having come into my head that there
+_could be_ a wrong way of making a bed; and to this day it is a marvel
+to me how any one could arrange pillows and quilts to make such a
+nondescript appearance as mine now presented. One glance showed me that
+Kotterin also was "_just caught_," and that I had as much to do in her
+department as in that of my old lady.
+
+Just then the door bell rang. "O, there is the door bell," I exclaimed.
+"Run, Kotterin, and show them into the parlor."
+
+Kotterin started to run, as directed, and then stopped, and stood
+looking round on all the doors and on me with a wofully puzzled air.
+"The street door," said I, pointing towards the entry. Kotterin
+blundered into the entry, and stood gazing with a look of stupid wonder
+at the bell ringing without hands, while I went to the door and let in
+the company before she could be fairly made to understand the connection
+between the ringing and the phenomenon of admission.
+
+As dinner time approached, I sent word into my kitchen to have it set
+on; but, recollecting the state of the heads of department there, I soon
+followed my own orders. I found the tin oven standing out in the middle
+of the kitchen, and my cook seated _à la Turc_ in front of it,
+contemplating the roast meat with full as puzzled an air as in the
+morning. I once more explained the mystery of taking it off, and
+assisted her to get it on to the platter, though somewhat cooled by
+having been so long set out for inspection. I was standing holding the
+spit in my hands, when Kotterin, who had heard the door bell ring, and
+was determined this time to be in season, ran into the hall, and soon
+returning, opened the kitchen door, and politely ushered in three or
+four fashionable looking ladies, exclaiming, "Here she is." As these
+were strangers from the city, who had come to make their first call,
+this introduction was far from proving an eligible one--the look of
+thunderstruck astonishment with which I greeted their first appearance,
+as I stood brandishing the spit, and the terrified snuffling and staring
+of poor Mrs. Tibbins, who again had recourse to her old pocket
+handkerchief, almost entirely vanquished their gravity, and it was
+evident that they were on the point of a broad laugh; so, recovering my
+self-possession, I apologized, and led the way to the parlor.
+
+Let these few incidents be a specimen of the four mortal weeks that I
+spent with these "_helps_," during which time I did almost as much work,
+with twice as much anxiety, as when there was nobody there; and yet
+every thing went wrong besides. The young gentlemen complained of the
+patches of starch grimed to their collars, and the streaks of black coal
+ironed into their dickies, while one week every pocket handkerchief in
+the house was starched so stiff that you might as well have carried an
+earthen plate in your pocket; the tumblers looked muddy; the plates were
+never washed clean or wiped dry unless I attended to each one; and as to
+eating and drinking, we experienced a variety that we had not before
+considered possible.
+
+At length the old woman vanished from the stage, and was succeeded by a
+knowing, active, capable damsel, with a temper like a steel-trap, who
+remained with me just one week, and then went off in a fit of spite. To
+her succeeded a rosy, good-natured, merry lass, who broke the crockery,
+burned the dinner, tore the clothes in ironing, and knocked down every
+thing that stood in her way about the house, without at all discomposing
+herself about the matter. One night she took the stopper from a barrel
+of molasses, and came singing off up stairs, while the molasses ran
+soberly out into the cellar bottom all night, till by morning it was in
+a state of universal emancipation. Having done this, and also despatched
+an entire set of tea things by letting the waiter fall, she one day made
+her disappearance.
+
+Then, for a wonder, there fell to my lot a tidy, efficient-trained
+English girl; pretty, and genteel, and neat, and knowing how to do every
+thing, and with the sweetest temper in the world. "Now," said I to
+myself, "I shall _rest_ from my labors." Every thing about the house
+began to go right, and looked as clean and genteel as Mary's own pretty
+self. But, alas! this period of repose was interrupted by the vision of
+a clever, trim-looking young man, who for some weeks could be heard
+scraping his boots at the kitchen door every Sunday night; and at last
+Miss Mary, with some smiling and blushing, gave me to understand that
+she must leave in two weeks.
+
+"Why, Mary," said I, feeling a little mischievous, "don't you like the
+place?"
+
+"O, yes, ma'am."
+
+"Then why do you look for another?"
+
+"I am not going to another place."
+
+"What, Mary, are you going to learn a trade?"
+
+"No, ma'am."
+
+"Why, then, what do you mean to do?"
+
+"I expect to keep house _myself_, ma'am," said she, laughing and
+blushing.
+
+"O ho!" said I, "that is it;" and so, in two weeks, I lost the best
+little girl in the world: peace to her memory.
+
+After this came an interregnum, which put me in mind of the chapter in
+Chronicles that I used to read with great delight when a child, where
+Basha, and Elah, and Tibni, and Zimri, and Omri, one after the other,
+came on to the throne of Israel, all in the compass of half a dozen
+verses. We had one old woman, who staid a week, and went away with the
+misery in her tooth; one _young_ woman, who ran away and got married;
+one cook, who came at night and went off before light in the morning;
+one very clever girl, who staid a month, and then went away because her
+mother was sick; another, who staid six weeks, and was taken with the
+fever herself; and during all this time, who can speak the damage and
+destruction wrought in the domestic paraphernalia by passing through
+these multiplied hands?
+
+What shall we do? Shall we give up houses, have no furniture to take
+care of, keep merely a bag of meal, a porridge pot, and a pudding stick,
+and sit in our tent door in real patriarchal independence? What shall we
+do?
+
+
+
+
+LITTLE EDWARD.
+
+
+Were any of you born in New England, in the good old catechizing,
+church-going, school-going, orderly times? If so, you may have seen my
+Uncle Abel; the most perpendicular, rectangular, upright, downright good
+man that ever labored six days and rested on the seventh.
+
+You remember his hard, weather-beaten countenance, where every line
+seemed drawn with "a pen of iron and the point of a diamond;" his
+considerate gray eyes, that moved over objects as if it were not best to
+be in a hurry about seeing; the circumspect opening and shutting of the
+mouth; his down-sitting and up-rising, all performed with conviction
+aforethought--in short, the whole ordering of his life and conversation,
+which was, according to the tenor of the military order, "to the right
+about face--forward, march!"
+
+Now, if you supposed, from all this triangularism of exterior, that this
+good man had nothing kindly within, you were much mistaken. You often
+find the greenest grass under a snowdrift; and though my uncle's mind
+was not exactly of the flower garden kind, still there was an abundance
+of wholesome and kindly vegetation there.
+
+It is true, he seldom laughed, and never joked himself; but no man had a
+more serious and weighty conviction of what a good joke was in another;
+and when some exceeding witticism was dispensed in his presence, you
+might see Uncle Abel's face slowly relax into an expression of solemn
+satisfaction, and he would look at the author with a sort of quiet
+wonder, as if it was past his comprehension how such a thing could ever
+come into a man's head.
+
+Uncle Abel, too, had some relish for the fine arts; in proof of which, I
+might adduce the pleasure with which he gazed at the plates in his
+family Bible, the likeness whereof is neither in heaven, nor on earth,
+nor under the earth. And he was also such an eminent musician, that he
+could go through the singing book at one sitting without the least
+fatigue, beating time like a windmill all the way.
+
+He had, too, a liberal hand, though his liberality was all by the rule
+of three. He did by his neighbor exactly as he would be done by; he
+loved some things in this world very sincerely: he loved his God much,
+but he honored and feared him more; he was exact with others, he was
+more exact with himself, and he expected his God to be more exact still.
+
+Every thing in Uncle Abel's house was in the same time, place, manner,
+and form, from year's end to year's end. There was old Master Bose, a
+dog after my uncle's own heart, who always walked as if he was studying
+the multiplication table. There was the old clock, forever ticking in
+the kitchen corner, with a picture on its face of the sun, forever
+setting behind a perpendicular row of poplar trees. There was the
+never-failing supply of red peppers and onions hanging over the chimney.
+There, too, were the yearly hollyhocks and morning-glories blooming
+about the windows. There was the "best room," with its sanded floor, the
+cupboard in one corner with its glass doors, the ever green asparagus
+bushes in the chimney, and there was the stand with the Bible and
+almanac on it in another corner. There, too, was Aunt Betsey, who never
+looked any older, because she always looked as old as she could; who
+always dried her catnip and wormwood the last of September, and began to
+clean house the first of May. In short, this was the land of
+continuance. Old Time never took it into his head to practise either
+addition, or subtraction, or multiplication on its sum total.
+
+This Aunt Betsey aforenamed was the neatest and most efficient piece of
+human machinery that ever operated in forty places at once. She was
+always every where, predominating over and seeing to every thing; and
+though my uncle had been twice married, Aunt Betsey's rule and authority
+had never been broken. She reigned over his wives when living, and
+reigned after them when dead, and so seemed likely to reign on to the
+end of the chapter. But my uncle's latest wife left Aunt Betsey a much
+less tractable subject than ever before had fallen to her lot. Little
+Edward was the child of my uncle's old age, and a brighter, merrier
+little blossom never grew on the verge of an avalanche. He had been
+committed to the nursing of his grandmamma till he had arrived at the
+age of _in_discretion, and then my old uncle's heart so yearned for him
+that he was sent for home.
+
+His introduction into the family excited a terrible sensation. Never was
+there such a condemner of dignities, such a violator of high places and
+sanctities, as this very Master Edward. It was all in vain to try to
+teach him decorum. He was the most outrageously merry elf that ever
+shook a head of curls; and it was all the same to him whether it was
+"_Sabba' day_" or any other day. He laughed and frolicked with every
+body and every thing that came in his way, not even excepting his solemn
+old father; and when you saw him, with his fair arms around the old
+man's neck, and his bright blue eyes and blooming cheek peering out
+beside the bleak face of Uncle Abel, you might fancy you saw spring
+caressing winter. Uncle Abel's metaphysics were sorely puzzled by this
+sparkling, dancing compound of spirit and matter; nor could he devise
+any method of bringing it into any reasonable shape, for he did mischief
+with an energy and perseverance that was truly astonishing. Once he
+scoured the floor with Aunt Betsey's very Scotch snuff; once he washed
+up the hearth with Uncle Abel's most immaculate clothes brush; and once
+he was found trying to make Bose wear his father's spectacles. In short,
+there was no use, except the right one, to which he did not put every
+thing that came in his way.
+
+But Uncle Abel was most of all puzzled to know what to do with him on
+the Sabbath, for on that day Master Edward seemed to exert himself to be
+particularly diligent and entertaining.
+
+"Edward! Edward must not play Sunday!" his father would call out; and
+then Edward would hold up his curly head, and look as grave as the
+catechism; but in three minutes you would see "pussy" scampering through
+the "best room," with Edward at her heels, to the entire discomposure of
+all devotion in Aunt Betsey and all others in authority.
+
+At length my uncle came to the conclusion that "it wasn't in natur' to
+teach him any better," and that "he could no more keep Sunday than the
+brook down in the lot." My poor uncle! he did not know what was the
+matter with his heart, but certain it was, he lost all faculty of
+scolding when little Edward was in the case, and he would rub his
+spectacles a quarter of an hour longer than common when Aunt Betsey was
+detailing his witticisms and clever doings.
+
+In process of time our hero had compassed his third year, and arrived at
+the dignity of going to school. He went illustriously through the
+spelling book, and then attacked the catechism; went from "man's chief
+end" to the "requirin's and forbiddin's" in a fortnight, and at last
+came home inordinately merry, to tell his father that he had got to
+"Amen." After this, he made a regular business of saying over the whole
+every Sunday evening, standing with his hands folded in front and his
+checked apron folded down, occasionally glancing round to see if pussy
+gave proper attention. And, being of a practically benevolent turn of
+mind, he made several commendable efforts to teach Bose the catechism,
+in which he succeeded as well as might be expected. In short, without
+further detail, Master Edward bade fair to become a literary wonder.
+
+But alas for poor little Edward! his merry dance was soon over. A day
+came when he sickened. Aunt Betsey tried her whole herbarium, but in
+vain: he grew rapidly worse and worse. His father sickened in heart, but
+said nothing; he only staid by his bedside day and night, trying all
+means to save, with affecting pertinacity.
+
+"Can't you think of any thing more, doctor?" said he to the physician,
+when all had been tried in vain.
+
+"Nothing," answered the physician.
+
+A momentary convulsion passed over my uncle's face. "The will of the
+Lord be done," said he, almost with a groan of anguish.
+
+Just at that moment a ray of the setting sun pierced the checked
+curtains, and gleamed like an angel's smile across the face of the
+little sufferer. He woke from troubled sleep.
+
+"O, dear! I am so sick!" he gasped, feebly. His father raised him in his
+arms; he breathed easier, and looked up with a grateful smile. Just then
+his old playmate, the cat, crossed the room. "There goes pussy," said
+he; "O, dear! I shall never play any more."
+
+At that moment a deadly change passed over his face. He looked up in his
+father's face with an imploring expression, and put out his hand as if
+for help. There was one moment of agony, and then the sweet features all
+settled into a smile of peace, and "mortality was swallowed up of life."
+
+My uncle laid him down, and looked one moment at his beautiful face. It
+was too much for his principles, too much for his consistency, and "he
+lifted up his voice and wept."
+
+The next morning was the Sabbath--the funeral day--and it rose with
+"breath all incense and with cheek all bloom." Uncle Abel was as calm
+and collected as ever; but in his face there was a sorrow-stricken
+appearance touching to behold. I remember him at family prayers, as he
+bent over the great Bible and began the psalm, "Lord, thou hast been our
+dwelling-place in all generations." Apparently he was touched by the
+melancholy splendor of the poetry, for after reading a few verses he
+stopped. There was a dead silence, interrupted only by the tick of the
+clock. He cleared his voice repeatedly, and tried to go on, but in vain.
+He closed the book, and kneeled down to prayer. The energy of sorrow
+broke through his usual formal reverence, and his language flowed forth
+with a deep and sorrowful pathos which I shall never forget. The God so
+much reverenced, so much feared, seemed to draw near to him as a friend
+and comforter, his refuge and strength, "a very present help in time of
+trouble."
+
+My uncle rose, and I saw him walk to the room of the departed one. He
+uncovered the face. It was set with the seal of death; but O, how
+surpassingly lovely! The brilliancy of life was gone, but that pure,
+transparent face was touched with a mysterious, triumphant brightness,
+which seemed like the dawning of heaven.
+
+My uncle looked long and earnestly. He felt the beauty of what he gazed
+on; his heart was softened, but he had no words for his feelings. He
+left the room unconsciously, and stood in the front door. The morning
+was bright, the bells were ringing for church, the birds were singing
+merrily, and the pet squirrel of little Edward was frolicking about the
+door. My uncle watched him as he ran first up one tree, and then down
+and up another, and then over the fence, whisking his brush and
+chattering just as if nothing was the matter.
+
+With a deep sigh Uncle Abel broke forth, "How happy that _cretur'_ is!
+Well, the Lord's will be done."
+
+That day the dust was committed to dust, amid the lamentations of all
+who had known little Edward. Years have passed since then, and all that
+is mortal of my uncle has long since been gathered to his fathers; but
+his just and upright spirit has entered the glorious liberty of the sons
+of God. Yes, the good man may have had opinions which the philosophical
+scorn, weaknesses at which the thoughtless smile; but death shall change
+him into all that is enlightened, wise, and refined; for he shall awake
+in "His" likeness, and "be satisfied."
+
+
+
+
+AUNT MARY.
+
+
+Since sketching character is the mode, I too take up my pencil, not to
+make you laugh, though peradventure it may be--to get you to sleep.
+
+I am now a tolerably old gentleman--an old bachelor, moreover--and, what
+is more to the point, an unpretending and sober-minded one. Lest,
+however, any of the ladies should take exceptions against me in the very
+outset, I will merely remark, _en passant_, that a man can sometimes
+become an old bachelor because he has _too much_ heart as well as too
+little.
+
+Years ago--before any of my readers were born--I was a little
+good-for-nought of a boy, of precisely that unlucky kind who are always
+in every body's way, and always in mischief. I had, to watch over my
+uprearing, a father and mother, and a whole army of older brothers and
+sisters. My relatives bore a very great resemblance to other human
+beings, neither good angels nor the opposite class, but, as
+mathematicians say, "in the mean proportion."
+
+As I have before insinuated, I was a sort of family scape-grace among
+them, and one on whose head all the domestic trespasses were regularly
+visited, either by real, actual desert or by imputation.
+
+For this order of things, there was, I confess, a very solid and serious
+foundation, in the constitution of my mind. Whether I was born under
+some cross-eyed planet, or whether I was fairy-smitten in my cradle,
+certain it is that I was, from the dawn of existence, a sort of "Murad
+the Unlucky;" an out-of-time, out-of-place, out-of-form sort of a boy,
+with whom nothing prospered.
+
+Who always left open doors in cold weather? It was Henry. Who was sure
+to upset his coffee cup at breakfast, or to knock over his tumbler at
+dinner, or to prostrate saltcellar, pepper box, and mustard pot, if he
+only happened to move his arm? Why, Henry. Who was plate breaker general
+for the family? It was Henry. Who tangled mamma's silks and cottons, and
+tore up the last newspaper for papa, or threw down old Ph[oe]be's
+clothes horse, with all her clean ironing thereupon? Why, Henry.
+
+Now all this was no "malice prepense" in me, for I solemnly believe that
+I was the best-natured boy in the world; but something was the matter
+with the attraction of cohesion, or the attraction of gravitation--with
+the general dispensation of matter around me--that, let me do what I
+would, things would fall down, and break, or be torn and damaged, if I
+only came near them; and my unluckiness in any matter seemed in exact
+proportion to my carefulness.
+
+If any body in the room with me had a headache, or any kind of nervous
+irritability, which made it particularly necessary for others to be
+quiet, and if I was in an especial desire unto the same, I was sure,
+while stepping around on tiptoe, to fall headlong over a chair, which
+would give an introductory push to the shovel, which would fall upon the
+tongs, which would animate the poker, and all together would set in
+action two or three sticks of wood, and down they would come together,
+with just that hearty, sociable sort of racket, which showed that they
+were disposed to make as much of the opportunity as possible.
+
+In the same manner, every thing that came into my hand, or was at all
+connected with me, was sure to lose by it. If I rejoiced in a clean
+apron in the morning, I was sure to make a full-length prostration
+thereupon on my way to school, and come home nothing better, but rather
+worse. If I was sent on an errand, I was sure either to lose my money in
+going, or my purchases in returning; and on these occasions my mother
+would often comfort me with the reflection, that it was well that my
+ears were fastened to my head, or I should lose them too. Of course, I
+was a fair mark for the exhortatory powers, not only of my parents, but
+of all my aunts, uncles, and cousins, to the third and fourth
+generation, who ceased not to reprove, rebuke, and exhort with all
+long-suffering and doctrine.
+
+All this would have been very well if nature had not gifted me with a
+very unnecessary and uncomfortable capacity of _feeling_, which, like a
+refined ear for music, is undesirable, because, in this world, one meets
+with discord ninety-nine times where it meets with harmony once. Much,
+therefore, as I furnished occasion to be scolded at, I never became
+_used_ to scolding, so that I was just as much galled by it the
+_forty_-first time as the first. There was no such thing as philosophy
+in me: I had just that unreasonable heart which is not conformed unto
+the nature of things, neither indeed _can_ be. I was timid, and
+shrinking, and proud; I was nothing to any one around me but an awkward,
+unlucky boy; nothing to my parents but one of half a dozen children,
+whose faces were to be washed and stockings mended on Saturday
+afternoon. If I was very sick, I had medicine and the doctor; if I was a
+little sick, I was exhorted unto patience; and if I was sick at heart, I
+was left to prescribe for myself.
+
+Now, all this was very well: what should a child need but meat, and
+drink, and room to play, and a school to teach him reading and writing,
+and somebody to take care of him when sick? Certainly, nothing.
+
+But the feelings of grown-up children exist in the mind of little ones
+oftener than is supposed; and I had, even at this early day, the same
+keen sense of all that touched the heart wrong; the same longing for
+something which should touch it aright; the same discontent, with
+latent, matter-of-course affection, and the same craving for sympathy,
+which has been the unprofitable fashion of this world in all ages. And
+no human being possessing such constitutionals has a better chance of
+being made unhappy by them than the backward, uninteresting, wrong-doing
+child. We can all sympathize, to some extent, with _men_ and _women_;
+but how few can go back to the sympathies of childhood; can understand
+the desolate insignificance of not being one of the _grown-up_ people;
+of being sent to bed, to be _out of the way_ in the evening, and to
+school, to be out of the way in the morning; of manifold similar
+grievances and distresses, which the child has no elocution to set
+forth, and the grown person no imagination to conceive.
+
+When I was seven years old, I was told one morning, with considerable
+domestic acclamation, that Aunt Mary was coming to make us a visit; and
+so, when the carriage that brought her stopped at our door, I pulled off
+my dirty apron, and ran in among the crowd of brothers and sisters to
+see what was coming. I shall not describe her first appearance, for, as
+I think of her, I begin to grow somewhat sentimental, in spite of my
+spectacles, and might, perhaps, talk a little nonsense.
+
+Perhaps every man, whether married or unmarried, who has lived to the
+age of fifty or thereabouts, has seen some woman who, in his mind, is
+_the_ woman, in distinction from all others. She may not have been a
+relative; she may not have been a wife; she may simply have shone on him
+from afar; she may be remembered in the distance of years as a star that
+is set, as music that is hushed, as beauty and loveliness faded forever;
+but _remembered_ she is with interest, with fervor, with enthusiasm;
+with all that heart can feel, and more than words can tell.
+
+To me there has been but one such, and that is she whom I describe. "Was
+she beautiful?" you ask. I also will ask you one question: "If an angel
+from heaven should dwell in human form, and animate any human face,
+would not that face be lovely? It might not be _beautiful_, but would it
+not be lovely?" She was not beautiful except after this fashion.
+
+How well I remember her, as she used sometimes to sit thinking, with her
+head resting on her hand, her face mild and placid, with a quiet October
+sunshine in her blue eyes, and an ever-present smile over her whole
+countenance. I remember the sudden sweetness of look when any one spoke
+to her; the prompt attention, the quick comprehension of things before
+you uttered them, the obliging readiness to leave for you whatever she
+was doing.
+
+To those who mistake occasional pensiveness for melancholy, it might
+seem strange to say that my Aunt Mary was always happy. Yet she was so.
+Her spirits never rose to buoyancy, and never sunk to despondency. I
+know that it is an article in the sentimental confession of faith that
+such a character cannot be interesting. For this impression there is
+some ground. The placidity of a medium commonplace mind is
+uninteresting, but the placidity of a strong and well-governed one
+borders on the sublime. Mutability of emotion characterizes inferior
+orders of being; but He who combines all interest, all excitement, all
+perfection, is "the same yesterday, to-day, and forever." And if there
+be any thing sublime in the idea of an almighty mind, in perfect peace
+itself, and, therefore, at leisure to bestow all its energies on the
+wants of others, there is at least a reflection of the same sublimity in
+the character of that human being who has so quieted and governed the
+world within, that nothing is left to absorb sympathy or distract
+attention from those around.
+
+Such a woman was my Aunt Mary. Her placidity was not so much the result
+of temperament as of choice. She had every susceptibility of suffering
+incident to the noblest and most delicate construction of mind; but they
+had been so directed, that, instead of concentrating thought on self,
+they had prepared her to understand and feel for others.
+
+She was, beyond all things else, a sympathetic person, and her
+character, like the green in a landscape, was less remarkable for what
+it was in itself than for its perfect and beautiful harmony with all the
+coloring and shading around it.
+
+Other women have had talents, others have been good; but no woman that
+ever I knew possessed goodness and talent in union with such an
+intuitive perception of feelings, and such a faculty of instantaneous
+adaptation to them. The most troublesome thing in this world is to be
+condemned to the society of a person who can never understand any thing
+you say unless you say the whole of it, making your commas and periods
+as you go along; and the most desirable thing in the world is to live
+with a person who saves you all the trouble of talking, by knowing just
+what you mean before you begin to speak.
+
+Something of this kind of talent I began to feel, to my great relief,
+when Aunt Mary came into the family. I remember the very first evening,
+as she sat by the hearth, surrounded by all the family, her eye glanced
+on me with an expression that let me know she _saw_ me; and when the
+clock struck eight, and my mother proclaimed that it was my bedtime, my
+countenance fell as I moved sorrowfully from the back of her rocking
+chair, and thought how many beautiful stories Aunt Mary would tell after
+I was gone to bed. She turned towards me with such a look of real
+understanding, such an evident insight into the case, that I went into
+banishment with a lighter heart than ever I did before. How very
+contrary is the obstinate estimate of the heart to the rational estimate
+of worldly wisdom! Are there not some who can remember when one word,
+one look, or even the withholding of a word, has drawn their heart more
+to a person than all the substantial favors in the world? By ordinary
+acceptation, substantial kindness respects the necessaries of animal
+existence; while those wants which are peculiar to mind, and will exist
+with it forever, by equally correct classification, are designated as
+sentimental ones, the supply of which, though it will excite more
+gratitude in fact, ought not to in theory. Before Aunt Mary had lived
+with us a month, I loved her beyond any body in the world; and a
+utilitarian would have been amused in ciphering out the amount of favors
+which produced this result. It was a look--a word--a smile: it was that
+she seemed pleased with my new kite; that she rejoiced with me when I
+learned to spin a top; that she alone seemed to estimate my proficiency
+in playing ball and marbles; that she never looked at all vexed when I
+upset her workbox upon the floor; that she received all my awkward
+gallantry and _mal-adroit_ helpfulness as if it had been in the best
+taste in the world; that when she was sick, she insisted on letting me
+wait on her, though I made my customary havoc among the pitchers and
+tumblers of her room, and displayed, through my zeal to please, a more
+than ordinary share of insufficiency for the station. She also was the
+only person that ever I _conversed_ with, and I used to wonder how any
+body who could talk all about matters and things with grown-up persons
+could talk so sensibly about marbles, and hoops, and skates, and all
+sorts of little-boy matters; and I will say, by the by, that the same
+sort of speculation has often occurred to the minds of older people in
+connection with her. She knew the value of varied information in making
+a woman, not a pedant, but a sympathetic, companionable being; and such
+she was to almost every class of mind.
+
+She had, too, the faculty of drawing others up to her level in
+conversation, so that I would often find myself going on in most
+profound style while talking with her, and would wonder, when I was
+through, whether I was really a little boy still.
+
+When she had enlightened us many months, the time came for her to take
+leave, and she besought my mother to give me to her for company. All the
+family wondered what she could find to like in Henry; but if she did
+like me, it was no matter, and so was the case disposed of.
+
+From that time I _lived_ with her--and there are some persons who can
+make the word _live_ signify much more than it commonly does--and she
+wrought on my character all those miracles which benevolent genius can
+work. She quieted my heart, directed my feelings, unfolded my mind, and
+educated me, not harshly or by force, but as the blessed sunshine
+educates the flower, into full and perfect life; and when all that was
+mortal of her died to this world, her words and deeds of unutterable
+love shed a twilight around her memory that will fade only in the
+brightness of heaven.
+
+
+
+
+FRANKNESS.
+
+
+There is one kind of frankness, which is the result of perfect
+unsuspiciousness, and which requires a measure of ignorance of the world
+and of life: this kind appeals to our generosity and tenderness. There
+is another, which is the frankness of a strong but pure mind, acquainted
+with life, clear in its discrimination and upright in its intention, yet
+above disguise or concealment: this kind excites respect. The first
+seems to proceed simply from impulse, the second from impulse and
+reflection united; the first proceeds, in a measure, from ignorance, the
+second from knowledge; the first is born from an undoubting confidence
+in others, the second from a virtuous and well-grounded reliance on
+one's self.
+
+Now, if you suppose that this is the beginning of a sermon or of a
+fourth of July oration, you are very much mistaken, though, I must
+confess, it hath rather an uncertain sound. I merely prefaced it to a
+little sketch of character, which you may look at if you please, though
+I am not sure you will like it.
+
+It was said of Alice H. that she had the mind of a man, the heart of a
+woman, and the face of an angel--a combination that all my readers will
+think peculiarly happy.
+
+There never was a woman who was so unlike the mass of society in her
+modes of thinking and acting, yet so generally popular. But the most
+remarkable thing about her was her proud superiority to all disguise, in
+thought, word, and deed. She pleased you; for she spoke out a hundred
+things that you would conceal, and spoke them with a dignified assurance
+that made you wonder that you had ever hesitated to say them yourself.
+Nor did this unreserve appear like the weakness of one who could not
+conceal, or like a determination to make war on the forms of society. It
+was rather a calm, well-guided integrity, regulated by a just sense of
+propriety; knowing when to be silent, but speaking the truth when it
+spoke at all.
+
+Her extraordinary frankness often beguiled superficial observers into
+supposing themselves fully acquainted with her long before they were so,
+as the beautiful transparency of some lakes is said to deceive the eye
+as to their depth; yet the longer you knew her, the more variety and
+compass of character appeared through the same transparent medium. But
+you may just visit Miss Alice for half an hour to-night, and judge for
+yourselves. You may walk into this little parlor. There sits Miss Alice
+on that sofa, sewing a pair of lace sleeves into a satin dress, in which
+peculiarly angelic employment she may persevere till we have finished
+another sketch.
+
+Do you see that pretty little lady, with sparkling eyes, elastic form,
+and beautiful hand and foot, sitting opposite to her? She is a belle:
+the character is written in her face--it sparkles from her eye--it
+dimples in her smile, and pervades the whole woman.
+
+But there--Alice has risen, and is gone to the mirror, and is arranging
+the finest auburn hair in the world in the most tasteful manner. The
+little lady watches every motion as comically as a kitten watches a
+pin-ball.
+
+"It is all in vain to deny it, Alice--you are really anxious to _look
+pretty_ this evening," said she.
+
+"I certainly am," said Alice, quietly.
+
+"Ay, and you hope you shall please Mr. A. and Mr. B.," said the little
+accusing angel.
+
+"Certainly I do," said Alice, as she twisted her fingers in a beautiful
+curl.
+
+"Well, I would not tell of it, Alice, if I did."
+
+"Then you should not ask me," said Alice.
+
+"I _declare_! Alice!"
+
+"And what do you declare?"
+
+"I never saw such a girl as you are!"
+
+"Very likely," said Alice, stooping to pick up a pin.
+
+"Well, for _my_ part," said the little lady, "I never would take any
+pains to make any body like me--_particularly_ a gentleman."
+
+"I would," said Alice, "if they would not like me without."
+
+"Why, Alice! I should not think you were so fond of admiration."
+
+"I like to be admired very much," said Alice, returning to the sofa,
+"and I suppose every body else does."
+
+"_I_ don't care about admiration," said the little lady. "I would be as
+well satisfied that people shouldn't like me as that they should."
+
+"Then, cousin, I think it's a pity we all like you so well," said Alice,
+with a good-humored smile. If Miss Alice had penetration, she never made
+a severe use of it.
+
+"But really, cousin," said the little lady, "I should not think such a
+girl as you would think any thing about dress, or admiration, and all
+that."
+
+"I don't know what sort of a girl you think I am," said Alice, "but, for
+my own part, _I_ only pretend to be a common human being, and am not
+ashamed of common human feelings. If God has made us so that we love
+admiration, why should we not honestly say so. _I_ love it--_you_ love
+it--every body loves it; and why should not every body say it?"
+
+"Why, yes," said the little lady, "I suppose every body has a--has a--a
+general love for admiration. I am willing to acknowledge that _I_ have;
+but----"
+
+"But you have no love for it in particular," said Alice, "I suppose you
+mean to say; that is just the way the matter is commonly disposed of.
+Every body is willing to acknowledge a general wish for the good opinion
+of others, but half the world are ashamed to own it when it comes to a
+particular case. Now I have made up my mind, that if it is correct in
+general, it is correct in particular; and I mean to own it both ways."
+
+"But, somehow, it seems mean," said the little lady.
+
+"It is mean to live for it, to be selfishly engrossed in it, but not
+mean to enjoy it when it comes, or even to seek it, if we neglect no
+higher interest in doing so. All that God made us to feel is dignified
+and pure, unless we pervert it."
+
+"But, Alice, I never heard any person speak out so frankly as you do."
+
+"Almost all that is innocent and natural may be spoken out; and as for
+that which is not innocent and natural, it ought not even to be
+thought."
+
+"But _can_ every thing be spoken that may be thought?" said the lady.
+
+"No; we have an instinct which teaches us to be silent sometimes: but,
+if we speak at all, let it be in simplicity and sincerity."
+
+"Now, for instance, Alice," said the lady, "it is very innocent and
+natural, as you say, to think this, that, and the other nice thing of
+yourself, especially when every body is telling you of it; now would you
+speak the truth if any one asked you on this point?"
+
+"If it were a person who had a right to ask, and if it were a proper
+time and place, I would," said Alice.
+
+"Well, then," said the bright lady, "I ask you, Alice, in this very
+proper time and place, do you think that you are handsome?"
+
+"Now, I suppose you expect me to make a courtesy to every chair in the
+room before I answer," said Alice; "but, dispensing with that ceremony,
+I will tell you fairly, I think I am."
+
+"Do you think that you are good?"
+
+"Not entirely," said Alice.
+
+"Well, but don't you think you are better than most people?"
+
+"As far as I can tell, I think I am better than some people; but really,
+cousin, I don't trust my own judgment in this matter," said Alice.
+
+"Well, Alice, one more question. Do you think James Martyrs likes you or
+me best?"
+
+"I do not know," said Alice.
+
+"I did not ask you what you knew, but what you thought," said the lady;
+"you must have some thought about it."
+
+"Well, then, I think he likes me best," said Alice.
+
+Just then the door opened, and in walked the identical James Martyrs.
+Alice blushed, looked a little comical, and went on with her sewing,
+while the little lady began,--
+
+"Really, Mr. James, I wish you had come a minute sooner, to hear Alice's
+confessions."
+
+"What has she confessed?" said James.
+
+"Why, that she is handsomer and better than most folks."
+
+"That's nothing to be ashamed of," said James.
+
+"O, that's not all; she wants to look pretty, and loves to be admired,
+and all----"
+
+"It sounds very much like her," said James, looking at Alice.
+
+"O, but, besides that," said the lady, "she has been preaching a
+discourse in justification of vanity and self-love----"
+
+"And next time you shall take notes when I preach," said Alice, "for I
+don't think your memory is remarkably happy."
+
+"You see, James," said the lady, "that Alice makes it a point to say
+exactly the truth when she speaks at all, and I've been puzzling her
+with questions. I really wish you would ask her some, and see what she
+will say. But, mercy! there is Uncle C. come to take me to ride. I must
+run." And off flew the little humming bird, leaving James and Alice
+_tête-à-tête_.
+
+"There really is one question----" said James, clearing his voice.
+
+Alice looked up.
+
+"There is one question, Alice, which I wish you _would_ answer."
+
+Alice did not inquire what the question was, but began to look very
+solemn; and just then the door was shut--and so I never knew what the
+question was--only I observed that James Martyrs seemed in some seventh
+heaven for a week afterwards, and--and--you can finish for yourself,
+lady.
+
+
+
+
+THE SABBATH.
+
+SKETCHES FROM A NOTE BOOK OF AN ELDERLY GENTLEMAN.
+
+
+The Puritan Sabbath--is there such a thing existing now, or has it gone
+with the things that were, to be looked at as a curiosity in the museum
+of the past? Can any one, in memory, take himself back to the unbroken
+stillness of that day, and recall the sense of religious awe which
+seemed to brood in the very atmosphere, checking the merry laugh of
+childhood, and chaining in unwonted stillness the tongue of volatile
+youth, and imparting even to the sunshine of heaven, and the unconscious
+notes of animals, a tone of its own gravity and repose? If you cannot
+remember these things, go back with me to the verge of early boyhood,
+and live with me one of the Sabbaths that I have spent beneath the roof
+of my uncle, Phineas Fletcher.
+
+Imagine the long sunny hours of a Saturday afternoon insensibly slipping
+away, as we youngsters are exploring the length and breadth of a trout
+stream, or chasing gray squirrels, or building mud milldams in the
+brook. The sun sinks lower and lower, but we still think it does not
+want half an hour to sundown. At last, he so evidently is really _going
+down_, that there is no room for scepticism or latitude of opinion on
+the subject; and with many a lingering regret, we began to put away our
+fish-hooks, and hang our hoops over our arm, preparatory to trudging
+homeward.
+
+"O Henry, don't you wish that Saturday afternoons lasted longer?" said
+little John to me.
+
+"I do," says Cousin Bill, who was never the boy to mince matters in
+giving his sentiments; "and I wouldn't care if Sunday didn't come but
+once a year."
+
+"O Bill, that's wicked, I'm afraid," says little conscientious Susan,
+who, with her doll in hand, was coming home from a Saturday afternoon
+visit.
+
+"Can't help it," says Bill, catching Susan's bag, and tossing it in the
+air; "I never did like to sit still, and that's why I hate Sundays."
+
+"Hate Sundays! O Bill! Why, Aunt Kezzy says heaven is an _eternal_
+Sabbath--only think of that!"
+
+"Well, I know I must be pretty different from what I am now before I
+could sit still forever," said Bill, in a lower and somewhat
+disconcerted tone, as if admitting the force of the consideration.
+
+The rest of us began to look very grave, and to think that we must get
+to liking Sunday some time or other, or it would be a very bad thing for
+us. As we drew near the dwelling, the compact and business-like form of
+Aunt Kezzy was seen emerging from the house to hasten our approach.
+
+"How often have I told you, young ones, not to stay out after sundown on
+Saturday night? Don't you know it's the same as Sunday, you wicked
+children, you? Come right into the house, every one of you, and never
+let me hear of such a thing again."
+
+This was Aunt Kezzy's regular exordium every Saturday night; for we
+children, being blinded, as she supposed, by natural depravity, always
+made strange mistakes in reckoning time on Saturday afternoons. After
+being duly suppered and scrubbed, we were enjoined to go to bed, and
+remember that to-morrow was Sunday, and that we must not laugh and play
+in the morning. With many a sorrowful look did Susan deposit her doll in
+the chest, and give one lingering glance at the patchwork she was
+piecing for dolly's bed, while William, John, and myself emptied our
+pockets of all superfluous fish-hooks, bits of twine, popguns, slices of
+potato, marbles, and all the various items of boy property, which, to
+keep us from temptation, were taken into Aunt Kezzy's safe keeping over
+Sunday.
+
+My Uncle Phineas was a man of great exactness, and Sunday was the centre
+of his whole worldly and religious system. Every thing with regard to
+his worldly business was so arranged that by Saturday noon it seemed to
+come to a close of itself. All his accounts were looked over, his
+work-men paid, all borrowed things returned, and lent things sent after,
+and every tool and article belonging to the farm was returned to its own
+place at exactly such an hour every Saturday afternoon, and an hour
+before sundown every item of preparation, even to the blacking of his
+Sunday shoes and the brushing of his Sunday coat, was entirely
+concluded; and at the going down of the sun, the stillness of the
+Sabbath seemed to settle down over the whole dwelling.
+
+And now it is Sunday morning; and though all without is fragrance, and
+motion, and beauty, the dewdrops are twinkling, butterflies fluttering,
+and merry birds carolling and racketing as if they never could sing loud
+or fast enough, yet within there is such a stillness that the tick of
+the tall mahogany clock is audible through the whole house, and the buzz
+of the blue flies, as they whiz along up and down the window panes, is a
+distinct item of hearing. Look into the best front room, and you may see
+the upright form of my Uncle Phineas, in his immaculate Sunday clothes,
+with his Bible spread open on the little stand before him, and even a
+deeper than usual gravity settling down over his toil-worn features.
+Alongside, in well-brushed Sunday clothes, with clean faces and smooth
+hair, sat the whole of us younger people, each drawn up in a chair, with
+hat and handkerchief, ready for the first stroke of the bell, while Aunt
+Kezzy, all trimmed, and primmed, and made ready for meeting, sat reading
+her psalm book, only looking up occasionally to give an additional jerk
+to some shirt collar, or the fifteenth pull to Susan's frock, or to
+repress any straggling looks that might be wandering about, "beholding
+vanity."
+
+A stranger, in glancing at Uncle Phineas as he sat intent on his Sunday
+reading, might have seen that the Sabbath was _in his heart_--there was
+no mistake about it. It was plain that he had put by all worldly
+thoughts when he shut up his account book, and that his mind was as free
+from every earthly association as his Sunday coat was from dust. The
+slave of worldliness, who is driven, by perplexing business or
+adventurous speculation, through the hours of a half-kept Sabbath to the
+fatigues of another week, might envy the unbroken quiet, the sunny
+tranquillity, which hallowed the weekly rest of my uncle.
+
+The Sabbath of the Puritan Christian was the golden day, and all its
+associations, and all its thoughts, words, and deeds, were so entirely
+distinct from the ordinary material of life, that it was to him a sort
+of weekly translation--a quitting of this world to sojourn a day in a
+better; and year after year, as each Sabbath set its seal on the
+completed labors of a week, the pilgrim felt that one more stage of his
+earthly journey was completed, and that he was one week nearer to his
+eternal rest. And as years, with their changes, came on, and the strong
+man grew old, and missed, one after another, familiar forms that had
+risen around his earlier years, the face of the Sabbath became like that
+of an old and tried friend, carrying him back to the scenes of his
+youth, and connecting him with scenes long gone by, restoring to him the
+dew and freshness of brighter and more buoyant days.
+
+Viewed simply as an institution for a Christian and mature mind, nothing
+could be more perfect than the Puritan Sabbath: if it had any failing,
+it was in the want of adaptation to children, and to those not
+interested in its peculiar duties. If you had been in the dwelling of my
+uncle of a Sabbath morning, you must have found the unbroken stillness
+delightful; the calm and quiet must have soothed and disposed you for
+contemplation, and the evident appearance of single-hearted devotion to
+the duties of the day in the elder part of the family must have been a
+striking addition to the picture. But, then, if your eye had watched
+attentively the motions of us juveniles, you might have seen that what
+was so very invigorating to the disciplined Christian was a weariness to
+young flesh and bones. Then there was not, as now, the intellectual
+relaxation afforded by the Sunday school, with its various forms of
+religious exercise, its thousand modes of interesting and useful
+information. Our whole stock in this line was the Bible and Primer, and
+these were our main dependence for whiling away the tedious hours
+between our early breakfast and the signal for meeting. How often was
+our invention stretched to find wherewithal to keep up our stock of
+excitement in a line with the duties of the day! For the first half
+hour, perhaps, a story in the Bible answered our purpose very well; but,
+having despatched the history of Joseph, or the story of the ten
+plagues, we then took to the Primer: and then there was, first, the
+looking over the system of theological and ethical teaching, commencing,
+"In Adam's fall we sinned all," and extending through three or four
+pages of pictorial and poetic embellishment. Next was the death of John
+Rogers, who was burned at Smithfield; and for a while we could entertain
+ourselves with counting all his "nine children and one at the breast,"
+as in the picture they stand in a regular row, like a pair of stairs.
+These being done, came miscellaneous exercises of our own invention,
+such as counting all the psalms in the psalm book, backward and forward,
+to and from the Doxology, or numbering the books in the Bible, or some
+other such device as we deemed within the pale of religious employments.
+When all these failed, and it still wanted an hour of meeting time, we
+looked up at the ceiling, and down at the floor, and all around into
+every corner, to see what we could do next; and happy was he who could
+spy a pin gleaming in some distant crack, and forthwith muster an
+occasion for getting down to pick it up. Then there was the infallible
+recollection that we wanted a drink of water, as an excuse to get out to
+the well; or else we heard some strange noise among the chickens, and
+insisted that it was essential that we should see what was the matter;
+or else pussy would jump on to the table, when all of us would spring to
+drive her down; while there was a most assiduous watching of the clock
+to see when the first bell would ring. Happy was it for us, in the
+interim, if we did not begin to look at each other and make up faces, or
+slyly slip off and on our shoes, or some other incipient attempts at
+roguery, which would gradually so undermine our gravity that there would
+be some sudden explosion of merriment, whereat Uncle Phineas would look
+up and say, "_Tut, tut_," and Aunt Kezzy would make a speech about
+wicked children breaking the Sabbath day. I remember once how my cousin
+Bill got into deep disgrace one Sunday by a roguish trick. He was just
+about to close his Bible with all sobriety, when snap came a grasshopper
+through an open window, and alighted in the middle of the page. Bill
+instantly kidnapped the intruder, for so important an auxiliary in the
+way of employment was not to be despised. Presently we children looked
+towards Bill, and there he sat, very demurely reading his Bible, with
+the grasshopper hanging by one leg from the corner of his mouth, kicking
+and sprawling, without in the least disturbing Master William's gravity.
+We all burst into an uproarious laugh. But it came to be rather a
+serious affair for Bill, as his good father was in the practice of
+enforcing truth and duty by certain modes of moral suasion much
+recommended by Solomon, though fallen into disrepute at the present day.
+
+This morning picture may give a good specimen of the whole livelong
+Sunday, which presented only an alternation of similar scenes until
+sunset, when a universal unchaining of tongues and a general scamper
+proclaimed that the "sun was down."
+
+But, it may be asked, what was the result of all this strictness? Did it
+not disgust you with the Sabbath and with religion? No, it did not. It
+did not, because it was the result of _no unkindly feeling_, but of
+_consistent principle_; and consistency of principle is what even
+children learn to appreciate and revere. The law of obedience and of
+reverence for the Sabbath was constraining so equally on the young and
+the old, that its claims came to be regarded like those immutable laws
+of nature, which no one thinks of being out of patience with, though
+they sometimes bear hard on personal convenience. The effect of the
+system was to ingrain into our character a veneration for the Sabbath
+which no friction of after life would ever efface. I have lived to
+wander in many climates and foreign lands, where the Sabbath is an
+unknown name, or where it is only recognized by noisy mirth; but never
+has the day returned without bringing with it a breathing of religious
+awe, and even a yearning for the unbroken stillness, the placid repose,
+and the simple devotion of the Puritan Sabbath.
+
+
+ANOTHER SCENE.
+
+"How late we are this morning!" said Mrs. Roberts to her husband,
+glancing hurriedly at the clock, as they were sitting down to breakfast
+on a Sabbath morning. "Really, it is a shame to us to be so late
+Sundays. I wonder John and Henry are not up yet; Hannah, did you speak
+to them?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am, but I could not make them mind; they said it was Sunday,
+and that we always have breakfast later Sundays."
+
+"Well, it is a shame to us, I must say," said Mrs. Roberts, sitting down
+to the table. "I never lie late myself unless something in particular
+happens. Last night I was out very late, and Sabbath before last I had a
+bad headache."
+
+"Well, well, my dear," said Mr. Roberts, "it is not worth while to worry
+yourself about it; Sunday is a day of rest; every body indulges a little
+of a Sunday morning, it is so very natural, you know; one's work done
+up, one feels like taking a little rest."
+
+"Well, I must say it was not the way my mother brought me up," said Mrs.
+Roberts; "and I really can't feel it to be right."
+
+This last part of the discourse had been listened to by two
+sleepy-looking boys, who had, meanwhile, taken their seats at table with
+that listless air which is the result of late sleeping.
+
+"O, by the by, my dear, what did you give for those hams Saturday?" said
+Mr. Roberts.
+
+"Eleven cents a pound, I believe," replied Mrs. Roberts; "but Stephens
+and Philips have some much nicer, canvas and all, for ten cents. I think
+we had better get our things at Stephens and Philips's in future, my
+dear."
+
+"Why? are they much cheaper?"
+
+"O, a great deal; but I forget it is Sunday. We ought to be thinking of
+other things. Boys, have you looked over your Sunday school lesson?"
+
+"No, ma'am."
+
+"Now, how strange! and here it wants only half an hour of the time, and
+you are not dressed either. Now, see the bad effects of not being up in
+time."
+
+The boys looked sullen, and said "they were up as soon as any one else
+in the house."
+
+"Well, your father and I had some excuse, because we were out late last
+night; you ought to have been up full three hours ago, and to have been
+all ready, with your lessons learned. Now, what do you suppose you shall
+do?"
+
+"O mother, do let us stay at home this one morning; we don't know the
+lesson, and it won't do any good for us to go."
+
+"No, indeed, I shall not. You must go and get along as well as you can.
+It is all your own fault. Now, go up stairs and hurry. We shall not find
+time for prayers this morning."
+
+The boys took themselves up stairs to "hurry," as directed, and soon one
+of them called from the top of the stairs, "Mother! mother! the buttons
+are off this vest; so I can't wear it!" and "Mother! here is a long rip
+in my best coat!" said another.
+
+"Why did you not tell me of it before?" said Mrs. Roberts, coming up
+stairs.
+
+"I forgot it," said the boy.
+
+"Well, well, stand still; I must catch it together somehow, if it is
+Sunday. There! there is the bell! Stand still a minute!" and Mrs.
+Roberts plied needle, and thread, and scissors; "there, that will do for
+to-day. Dear me, how confused every thing is to-day!"
+
+"It is always just so Sundays," said John, flinging up his book and
+catching it again as he ran down stairs.
+
+"It is always just so Sundays." These words struck rather unpleasantly
+on Mrs. Roberts's conscience, for something told her that, whatever the
+reason might be, it _was_ just so. On Sunday every thing was later and
+more irregular than any other day in the week.
+
+"Hannah, you must boil that piece of beef for dinner to-day."
+
+"I thought you told me you did not have cooking done on Sunday."
+
+"No, I do not, generally. I am very sorry Mr. Roberts would get that
+piece of meat yesterday. We did not need it; but here it is on our
+hands; the weather is too hot to keep it. It won't do to let it spoil;
+so I must have it boiled, for aught I see."
+
+Hannah had lived four Sabbaths with Mrs. Roberts, and on two of them she
+had been required to cook from similar reasoning. "_For once_" is apt,
+in such cases, to become a phrase of very extensive signification.
+
+"It really worries me to have things go on so as they do on Sundays,"
+said Mrs. Roberts to her husband. "I never do feel as if we kept Sunday
+as we ought."
+
+"My dear, you have been saying so ever since we were married, and I do
+not see what you are going to do about it. For my part I do not see why
+we do not do as well as people in general. We do not visit, nor receive
+company, nor read improper books. We go to church, and send the children
+to Sunday school, and so the greater part of the day is spent in a
+religious way. Then out of church we have the children's Sunday school
+books, and one or two religious newspapers. I think that is quite
+enough."
+
+"But, somehow, when I was a child, my mother----" said Mrs. Roberts,
+hesitating.
+
+"O my dear, your mother must not be considered an exact pattern for
+these days. People were too strict in your mother's time; they carried
+the thing too far, altogether; every body allows it now."
+
+Mrs. Roberts was silenced, but not satisfied. A strict religious
+education had left just conscience enough on this subject to make her
+uneasy.
+
+These worthy people had a sort of general idea that Sunday ought to be
+kept, and they intended to keep it; but they had never taken the trouble
+to investigate or inquire as to the most proper way, nor was it so much
+an object of interest that their weekly arrangements were planned with
+any reference to it. Mr. Roberts would often engage in business at the
+close of the week, which he knew would so fatigue him that he would be
+weary and listless on Sunday; and Mrs. Roberts would allow her family
+cares to accumulate in the same way, so that she was either wearied with
+efforts to accomplish it before the Sabbath, or perplexed and worried by
+finding every thing at loose ends on that day. They had the idea that
+Sunday was to be kept when it was perfectly convenient, and did not
+demand any sacrifice of time or money. But if stopping to keep the
+Sabbath in a journey would risk passage money or a seat in the stage,
+or, in housekeeping, if it would involve any considerable inconvenience
+or expense, it was deemed a providential intimation that it was "a work
+of necessity and mercy" to attend to secular matters. To their minds the
+fourth command read thus: "Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy when
+it comes convenient, and costs neither time nor money."
+
+As to the effects of this on the children, there was neither enough of
+strictness to make them respect the Sabbath, nor of religions interest
+to make them love it; of course, the little restraint there was proved
+just enough to lead them to dislike and despise it. Children soon
+perceive the course of their parents' feelings, and it was evident
+enough to the children of this family that their father and mother
+generally found themselves hurried into the Sabbath with hearts and
+minds full of this world, and their conversation and thoughts were so
+constantly turning to worldly things, and so awkwardly drawn back by a
+sense of religious obligation, that the Sabbath appeared more obviously
+a clog and a fetter than it did under the strictest _régime_ of Puritan
+days.
+
+
+SKETCH SECOND.
+
+The little quiet village of Camden stands under the brow of a rugged
+hill in one of the most picturesque parts of New England; and its
+regular, honest, and industrious villagers were not a little surprised
+and pleased that Mr. James, a rich man, and pleasant-spoken withal, had
+concluded to take up his residence among them. He brought with him a
+pretty, genteel wife, and a group of rosy, romping, but amiable
+children; and there was so much of good nature and kindness about the
+manners of every member of the family, that the whole neighborhood were
+prepossessed in their favor. Mr. James was a man of somewhat visionary
+and theoretical turn of mind, and very much in the habit of following
+out his own ideas of right and wrong, without troubling himself
+particularly as to the appearance his course might make in the eyes of
+others. He was a supporter of the ordinances of religion, and always
+ready to give both time and money to promote any benevolent object; and
+though he had never made any public profession of religion, nor
+connected himself with any particular set of Christians, still he seemed
+to possess great reverence for God, and to worship him in spirit and in
+truth, and he professed to make the Bible the guide of his life. Mr.
+James had been brought up under a system of injudicious religious
+restraint. He had determined, in educating his children, to adopt an
+exactly opposite course, and to make religion and all its institutions
+sources of enjoyment. His aim, doubtless, was an appropriate one; but
+his method of carrying it out, to say the least, was one which was not a
+safe model for general imitation. In regard to the Sabbath, for example,
+he considered that, although the plan of going to church twice a day,
+and keeping all the family quiet within doors the rest of the time, was
+good, other methods would be much better. Accordingly, after the morning
+service, which he and his whole family regularly attended, he would
+spend the rest of the day with his children. In bad weather he would
+instruct them in natural history, show them pictures, and read them
+various accounts of the works of God, combining all with such religious
+instruction and influence as a devotional mind might furnish. When the
+weather permitted, he would range with them through the fields,
+collecting minerals and plants, or sail with them on the lake, meanwhile
+directing the thoughts of his young listeners upward to God, by the many
+beautiful traces of his presence and agency, which superior knowledge
+and observation enabled him to discover and point out. These Sunday
+strolls were seasons of most delightful enjoyment to the children.
+Though it was with some difficulty that their father could restrain them
+from loud and noisy demonstrations of delight, and he saw with some
+regret that the mere animal excitement of the stroll seemed to draw the
+attention too much from religious considerations, and, in particular, to
+make the exercises of the morning seem like a preparatory penance to the
+enjoyments of the afternoon, nevertheless, when Mr. James looked back to
+his own boyhood, and remembered the frigid restraint, the entire want of
+any kind of mental or bodily excitement, which had made the Sabbath so
+much a weariness to him, he could not but congratulate himself when he
+perceived his children looking forward to Sunday as a day of delight,
+and found himself on that day continually surrounded by a circle of
+smiling and cheerful faces. His talent of imparting religious
+instruction in a simple and interesting form was remarkably happy, and
+it is probable that there was among his children an uncommon degree of
+real thought and feeling on religious subjects as the result.
+
+The good people of Camden, however, knew not what to think of a course
+that appeared to them an entire violation of all the requirements of the
+Sabbath. The first impulse of human nature is to condemn at once all who
+vary from what has been commonly regarded as the right way; and,
+accordingly, Mr. James was unsparingly denounced, by many good people,
+as a Sabbath breaker, an infidel, and an opposer to religion.
+
+Such was the character heard of him by Mr. Richards, a young clergyman,
+who, shortly after Mr. James fixed his residence in Camden, accepted the
+pastoral charge of the village. It happened that Mr. Richards had known
+Mr. James in college, and, remembering him as a remarkably serious,
+amiable, and conscientious man, he resolved to ascertain from himself
+the views which had led him to the course of conduct so offensive to the
+good people of the neighborhood.
+
+"This is all very well, my good friend," said he, after he had listened
+to Mr. James's eloquent account of his own system of religious
+instruction, and its effects upon his family; "I do not doubt that this
+system does very well for yourself and family; but there are other
+things to be taken into consideration besides personal and family
+improvement. Do you not know, Mr. James, that the most worthless and
+careless part of my congregation quote your example as a respectable
+precedent for allowing their families to violate the order of the
+Sabbath? You and your children sail about on the lake, with minds and
+hearts, I doubt not, elevated and tranquillized by its quiet repose; but
+Ben Dakes, and his idle, profane army of children, consider themselves
+as doing very much the same thing when they lie lolling about, sunning
+themselves on its shore, or skipping stones over its surface the whole
+of a Sunday afternoon."
+
+"Let every one answer to his own conscience," replied Mr. James. "If I
+keep the Sabbath conscientiously, I am approved of God; if another
+transgresses his conscience, 'to his own master he standeth or falleth.'
+I am not responsible for all the abuses that idle or evil-disposed
+persons may fall into, in consequence of my doing what is right."
+
+"Let me quote an answer from the same chapter," said Mr. Richards. "'Let
+no man put a stumbling block, or an occasion to fall, in his brother's
+way; let not your good be evil spoken of. It is good neither to eat
+flesh nor drink wine, _nor any thing whereby thy brother stumbleth, or
+is offended, or made weak_.' Now, my good friend, you happen to be
+endowed with a certain tone of mind which enables you to carry through
+your mode of keeping the Sabbath with little comparative evil, and much
+good, so far as your family is concerned; but how many persons in this
+neighborhood, do you suppose, would succeed equally well if they were to
+attempt it? If it were the common custom for families to absent
+themselves from public worship in the afternoon, and to stroll about the
+fields, or ride, or sail, how many parents, do you suppose, would have
+the dexterity and talent to check all that was inconsistent with the
+duties of the day? Is it not your ready command of language, your
+uncommon tact in simplifying and illustrating, your knowledge of natural
+history and of biblical literature, that enable you to accomplish the
+results that you do? And is there one parent in a hundred that could do
+the same? Now, just imagine our neighbor, 'Squire Hart, with his ten
+boys and girls, turned out into the fields on a Sunday afternoon to
+profit withal: you know he can never finish a sentence without stopping
+to begin it again half a dozen times. What progress would he make in
+instructing them? And so of a dozen others I could name along this very
+street here. Now, you men of cultivated minds must give your countenance
+to courses which would be best for society at large, or, as the
+sentiment was expressed by St. Paul, 'We that are strong ought to bear
+the infirmities of the weak, _and not to please ourselves_, for even
+Christ _pleased not himself_.' Think, my dear sir, if our Savior had
+gone only on the principle of avoiding what might be injurious to his
+own improvement, how unsafe his example might have proved to less
+elevated minds. Doubtless he might have made a Sabbath day fishing
+excursion an occasion of much elevated and impressive instruction; but,
+although he declared himself 'Lord of the Sabbath day,' and at liberty
+to suspend its obligation at his own discretion, yet he never violated
+the received method of observing it, except in cases where superstitious
+tradition trenched directly on those interests which the Sabbath was
+given to promote. He asserted the right to relieve pressing bodily
+wants, and to administer to the necessities of others on the Sabbath,
+but beyond that he allowed himself in no deviation from established
+custom."
+
+Mr. James looked thoughtful. "I have not reflected on the subject in
+this view," he replied. "But, my dear sir, considering how little of the
+public services of the Sabbath is on a level with the capacity of
+younger children, it seems to me almost a pity to take them to church
+the whole of the day."
+
+"I have thought of that myself," replied Mr. Richards, "and have
+sometimes thought that, could persons be found to conduct such a thing,
+it would be desirable to institute a separate service for children, in
+which the exercises should be particularly adapted to them."
+
+"I should like to be minister to a congregation of children," said Mr.
+James, warmly.
+
+"Well," replied Mr. Richards, "give our good people time to get
+acquainted with you, and do away the prejudices which your extraordinary
+mode of proceeding has induced, and I think I could easily assemble such
+a company for you every Sabbath."
+
+After this, much to the surprise of the village, Mr. James and his
+family were regular attendants at both the services of the Sabbath. Mr.
+Richards explained to the good people of his congregation the motives
+which had led their neighbor to the adoption of what, to them, seemed so
+unchristian a course; and, upon reflection, they came to the perception
+of the truth, that a man may depart very widely from the received
+standard of right for other reasons than being an infidel or an opposer
+of religion. A ready return of cordial feeling was the result; and as
+Mr. James found himself treated with respect and confidence, he began to
+feel, notwithstanding his fastidiousness, that there were strong points
+of congeniality between all real and warm-hearted Christians, however
+different might be their intellectual culture, and in all simplicity
+united himself with the little church of Camden. A year from the time of
+his first residence there, every Sabbath afternoon saw him surrounded by
+a congregation of young children, for whose benefit he had, at his own
+expense, provided a room, fitted up with maps, scriptural pictures, and
+every convenience for the illustration of biblical knowledge; and the
+parents or guardians who from time to time attended their children
+during these exercises, often confessed themselves as much interested
+and benefited as any of their youthful companions.
+
+
+SKETCH THIRD.
+
+It was near the close of a pleasant Saturday afternoon that I drew up my
+weary horse in front of a neat little dwelling in the village of N.
+This, as near as I could gather from description, was the house of my
+cousin, William Fletcher, the identical rogue of a Bill Fletcher of whom
+we have aforetime spoken. Bill had always been a thriving, push-ahead
+sort of a character, and during the course of my rambling life I had
+improved every occasional opportunity of keeping up our early
+acquaintance. The last time that I returned to my native country, after
+some years of absence, I heard of him as married and settled in the
+village of N., where he was conducting a very prosperous course of
+business, and shortly after received a pressing invitation to visit him
+at his own home. Now, as I had gathered from experience the fact that it
+is of very little use to rap one's knuckles off on the front door of a
+country house without any knocker, I therefore made the best of my way
+along a little path, bordered with marigolds and balsams, that led to
+the back part of the dwelling. The sound of a number of childish voices
+made me stop, and, looking through the bushes, I saw the very image of
+my cousin Bill Fletcher, as he used to be twenty years ago; the same
+bold forehead, the same dark eyes, the same smart, saucy mouth, and the
+same "who-cares-for-that" toss to his head. "There, now," exclaimed the
+boy, setting down a pair of shoes that he had been blacking, and
+arranging them at the head of a long row of all sizes and sorts, from
+those which might have fitted a two year old foot upward, "there, I've
+blacked every single one of them, and made them shine too, and done it
+all in twenty minutes; if any body thinks they can do it quicker than
+that, I'd just like to have them try; that's all."
+
+"I know they couldn't, though," said a fair-haired little girl, who
+stood admiring the sight, evidently impressed with the utmost reverence
+for her brother's ability; "and, Bill, I've been putting up all the
+playthings in the big chest, and I want you to come and turn the
+lock--the key hurts my fingers."
+
+"Poh! I can turn it easier than that," said the boy, snapping his
+fingers; "have you got them all in?"
+
+"Yes, all; only I left out the soft bales, and the string of red beads,
+and the great rag baby for Fanny to play with--you know mother says
+babies must have their playthings Sunday."
+
+"O, to be sure," said the brother, very considerately; "babies can't
+read, you know, as we can, nor hear Bible stories, nor look at
+pictures." At this moment I stepped forward, for the spell of former
+times was so powerfully on me, that I was on the very point of springing
+forward with a "Halloo, there, Bill!" as I used to meet the father in
+old times; but the look of surprise that greeted my appearance brought
+me to myself.
+
+"Is your father at home?" said I.
+
+"Father and mother are both gone out; but I guess, sir, they will be
+home in a few moments: won't you walk in?"
+
+I accepted the invitation, and the little girl showed me into a small
+and very prettily furnished parlor. There was a piano with music books
+on one side of the room, some fine pictures hung about the walls, and a
+little, neat centre table was plentifully strewn with books. Besides
+this, the two recesses on each side of the fireplace contained each a
+bookcase with a glass locked door.
+
+The little girl offered me a chair, and then lingered a moment, as if
+she felt some disposition to entertain me if she could only think of
+something to say; and at last, looking up in my face, she said, in a
+confidential tone, "Mother says she left Willie and me to keep house
+this afternoon while she was gone, and we are putting up all the things
+for Sunday, so as to get every thing done before she comes home. Willie
+has gone to put away the playthings, and I'm going to put up the books."
+So saying, she opened the doors of one of the bookcases, and began
+busily carrying the books from the centre table to deposit them on the
+shelves, in which employment she was soon assisted by Willie, who took
+the matter in hand in a very masterly manner, showing his sister what
+were and what were not "Sunday books" with the air of a person entirely
+at home in the business. Robinson Crusoe and the many-volumed Peter
+Parley were put by without hesitation; there was, however, a short
+demurring over a North American Review, because Willie said he was sure
+his father read something one Sunday out of one of them, while Susan
+averred that he did not commonly read in it, and only read in it then
+because the piece was something about the Bible; but as nothing could be
+settled definitively on the point, the review was "laid on the table,"
+like knotty questions in Congress. Then followed a long discussion over
+an extract book, which, as usual, contained all sorts, both sacred,
+serious, comic, and profane; and at last Willie, with much gravity,
+decided to lock it up, on the principle that it was best to be on the
+_safe side_, in support of which he appealed to me. I was saved from
+deciding the question by the entrance of the father and mother. My old
+friend knew me at once, and presented his pretty wife to me with the
+same look of exultation with which he used to hold up a string of trout
+or an uncommonly fine perch of his own catching for my admiration, and
+then looking round on his fine family of children, two more of which he
+had brought home with him, seemed to say to me, "There! what do you
+think of that, now?"
+
+And, in truth, a very pretty sight it was--enough to make any one's old
+bachelor coat sit very uneasily on him. Indeed, there is nothing that
+gives one such a startling idea of the tricks that old Father Time has
+been playing on us, as to meet some boyish or girlish companions with
+half a dozen or so of thriving children about them. My old friend, I
+found, was in essence just what the boy had been. There was the same
+upright bearing, the same confident, cheerful tone to his voice, and the
+same fire in his eye; only that the hand of manhood had slightly touched
+some of the lines of his face, giving them a staidness of expression
+becoming the man and the father.
+
+"Very well, my children," said Mrs. Fletcher, as, after tea, William and
+Susan finished recounting to her the various matters that they had set
+in order that afternoon; "I believe now we can say that our week's work
+is finished, and that we have nothing to do but rest and enjoy
+ourselves."
+
+"O, and papa will show us the pictures in those great books that he
+brought home for us last Monday, will he not?" said little Robert.
+
+"And, mother, you will tell us some more about Solomon's temple and his
+palaces, won't you?" said Susan.
+
+"And I should like to know if father has found out the answer to that
+hard question I gave him last Sunday?" said Willie.
+
+"All will come in good time," said Mrs. Fletcher. "But tell me, my dear
+children, are you sure that you are quite ready for the Sabbath? You say
+you have put away the books and the playthings; have you put away, too,
+all wrong and unkind feelings? Do you feel kindly and pleasantly towards
+every body?"
+
+"Yes, mother," said Willie, who appeared to have taken a great part of
+this speech to himself; "I went over to Tom Walter's this very morning
+to ask him about that chicken of mine, and he said that he did not mean
+to hit it, and did not know he had till I told him of it; and so we made
+all up again, and I am glad I went."
+
+"I am inclined to think, Willie," said his father, "that if every body
+would make it a rule to settle up all their differences _before Sunday_,
+there would be very few long quarrels and lawsuits. In about half the
+cases, a quarrel is founded on some misunderstanding that would be got
+over in five minutes if one would go directly to the person for
+explanation."
+
+"I suppose I need not ask you," said Mrs. Fletcher, "whether you have
+fully learned your Sunday school lessons."
+
+"O, to be sure," said William. "You know, mother, that Susan and I were
+busy about them through Monday and Tuesday, and then this afternoon we
+looked them over again, and wrote down some questions."
+
+"And I heard Robert say his all through, and showed him all the places
+on the Bible Atlas," said Susan.
+
+"Well, then," said my friend, "if every thing is done, let us begin
+Sunday with some music."
+
+Thanks to the recent improvements in the musical instruction of the
+young, every family can now form a domestic concert, with words and
+tunes adapted to the capacity and the voices of children; and while
+these little ones, full of animation, pressed round their mother as she
+sat at the piano, and accompanied her music with the words of some
+beautiful hymns, I thought that, though I might have heard finer music,
+I had never listened to any that answered the purpose of music so well.
+
+It was a custom at my friend's to retire at an early hour on Saturday
+evening, in order that there might be abundant time for rest, and no
+excuse for late rising on the Sabbath; and, accordingly, when the
+children had done singing, after a short season of family devotion, we
+all betook ourselves to our chambers, and I, for one, fell asleep with
+the impression of having finished the week most agreeably, and with
+anticipations of very great pleasure on the morrow.
+
+Early in the morning I was roused from my sleep by the sound of little
+voices singing with great animation in the room next to mine, and,
+listening, I caught the following words:--
+
+    "Awake! awake! your bed forsake,
+      To God your praises pay;
+    The morning sun is clear and bright;
+    With joy we hail his cheerful light.
+          In songs of love
+          Praise God above--
+        It is the Sabbath day!"
+
+The last words were repeated and prolonged most vehemently by a voice
+that I knew for Master William's.
+
+"Now, Willie, I like the other one best," said the soft voice of little
+Susan; and immediately she began,--
+
+    "How sweet is the day,
+    When, leaving our play,
+      The Saviour we seek!
+    The fair morning glows
+    When Jesus arose--
+      The best in the week."
+
+Master William helped along with great spirit in the singing of this
+tune, though I heard him observing, at the end of the first verse, that
+he liked the other one better, because "it seemed to step off so kind o'
+lively;" and his accommodating sister followed him as he began singing
+it again with redoubled animation.
+
+It was a beautiful summer morning, and the voices of the children within
+accorded well with the notes of birds and bleating flocks without--a
+cheerful, yet Sabbath-like and quieting sound.
+
+"Blessed be children's music!" said I to myself; "how much better this
+is than the solitary tick, tick, of old Uncle Fletcher's tall mahogany
+clock!"
+
+The family bell summoned us to the breakfast room just as the children
+had finished their hymn. The little breakfast parlor had been swept and
+garnished expressly for the day, and a vase of beautiful flowers, which
+the children had the day before collected from their gardens, adorned
+the centre table. The door of one of the bookcases by the fireplace was
+thrown open, presenting to view a collection of prettily bound books,
+over the top of which appeared in gilt letters the inscription, "Sabbath
+Library." The windows were thrown open to let in the invigorating breath
+of the early morning, and the birds that flitted among the rosebushes
+without seemed scarcely lighter and more buoyant than did the children
+as they entered the room. It was legibly written on every face in the
+house, that the happiest day in the week had arrived, and each one
+seemed to enter into its duties with a whole soul. It was still early
+when the breakfast and the season of family devotion were over, and the
+children eagerly gathered round the table to get a sight of the pictures
+in the new books which their father had purchased in New York the week
+before, and which had been reserved as a Sunday's treat. They were a
+beautiful edition of Calmet's Dictionary, in several large volumes, with
+very superior engravings.
+
+"It seems to me that this work must be very expensive," I remarked to my
+friend, as we were turning the leaves.
+
+"Indeed it is so," he replied; "but here is one place where I am less
+withheld by considerations of expense than in any other. In all that
+concerns making a show in the world, I am perfectly ready to economize.
+I can do very well without expensive clothing or fashionable furniture,
+and am willing that we should be looked on as very plain sort of people
+in all such matters; but in all that relates to the cultivation of the
+mind, and the improvement of the hearts of my children, I am willing to
+go to the extent of my ability. Whatever will give my children a better
+knowledge of, or deeper interest in, the Bible, or enable them to spend
+a Sabbath profitably and without weariness, stands first on my list
+among things to be purchased. I have spent in this way one third as much
+as the furnishing of my house costs me." On looking over the shelves of
+the Sabbath library, I perceived that my friend had been at no small
+pains in the selection. It comprised all the popular standard works for
+the illustration of the Bible, together with the best of the modern
+religious publications adapted to the capacity of young children. Two
+large drawers below were filled with maps and scriptural engravings,
+some of them of a very superior character.
+
+"We have been collecting these things gradually ever since we have been
+at housekeeping," said my friend; "the children take an interest in this
+library, as something more particularly belonging to them, and some of
+the books are donations from their little earnings."
+
+"Yes," said Willie, "I bought Helen's Pilgrimage with my egg money, and
+Susan bought the Life of David, and little Robert is going to buy one,
+too, next new year."
+
+"But," said I, "would not the Sunday school library answer all the
+purpose of this?"
+
+"The Sabbath school library is an admirable thing," said my friend; "but
+this does more fully and perfectly what that was intended to do. It
+makes a sort of central attraction at home on the Sabbath, and makes the
+acquisition of religious knowledge and the proper observance of the
+Sabbath a sort of family enterprise. You know," he added, smiling, "that
+people always feel interested for an object in which they have invested
+money."
+
+The sound of the first Sabbath school bell put an end to this
+conversation. The children promptly made themselves ready, and as their
+father was the superintendent of the school, and their mother one of the
+teachers, it was quite a family party.
+
+One part of every Sabbath at my friend's was spent by one or both
+parents with the children, in a sort of review of the week. The
+attention of the little ones was directed to their own characters, the
+various defects or improvements of the past week were pointed out, and
+they were stimulated to be on their guard in the time to come, and the
+whole was closed by earnest prayer for such heavenly aid as the
+temptations and faults of each particular one might need. After church
+in the evening, while the children were thus withdrawn to their mother's
+apartment, I could not forbear reminding my friend of old times, and of
+the rather anti-sabbatical turn of his mind in our boyish days.
+
+"Now, William," said I, "do you know that you were the last boy of whom
+such an enterprise in Sabbath keeping as this was to have been expected?
+I suppose you remember Sunday at 'the old place'?"
+
+"Nay, now, I think I was the very one," said he, smiling, "for I had
+sense enough to see, as I grew up, that the day must be kept
+_thoroughly_ or not at all, and I had enough blood and motion in my
+composition to see that something must be done to enliven and make it
+interesting; so I set myself about it. It was one of the first of our
+housekeeping resolutions, that the Sabbath should be made a pleasant
+day, and yet be as inviolably kept as in the strictest times of our good
+father; and we have brought things to run in that channel so long, that
+it seems to be the natural order."
+
+"I have always supposed," said I, "that it required a peculiar talent,
+and more than common information in a parent, to accomplish this to any
+extent."
+
+"It requires nothing," replied my friend, "but common sense, and a
+strong _determination to do it_. Parents who make a definite object of
+the religious instruction of their children, if they have common sense,
+can very soon see what is necessary in order to interest them; and, if
+they find themselves wanting in the requisite information, they can, in
+these days, very readily acquire it. The sources of religious knowledge
+are so numerous, and so popular in their form, that all can avail
+themselves of them. The only difficulty, after all, is, that the keeping
+of the Sabbath and the imparting of religious instruction are not made
+enough of a _home_ object. Parents pass off the responsibility on to the
+Sunday school teacher, and suppose, of course, if they send their
+children to Sunday school, they do the best they can for them. Now, I am
+satisfied, from my experience as a Sabbath school teacher, that the best
+religious instruction imparted abroad still stands in need of the
+coöperation of a systematic plan of religious discipline and instruction
+at home; for, after all, God gives a power to the efforts of a _parent_
+that can never be transferred to other hands."
+
+"But do you suppose," said I, "that the _common_ class of minds, with
+ordinary advantages, can do what you have done?"
+
+"I think in most cases they could, _if they begin_ right. But when both
+parents and children have formed _habits_, it is more difficult to
+change than to begin right at first. However, I think _all_ might
+accomplish a great deal if they would give time, money, and effort
+towards it. It is because the object is regarded of so little value,
+compared with other things of a worldly nature, that so little is done."
+
+My friend was here interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Fletcher with the
+children. Mrs. Fletcher sat down to the piano, and the Sabbath was
+closed with the happy songs of the little ones; nor could I notice a
+single anxious eye turning to the window to see if the sun was not
+almost down. The tender and softened expression of each countenance bore
+witness to the subduing power of those instructions which had hallowed
+the last hour, and their sweet, bird-like voices harmonized well with
+the beautiful words,--
+
+    "How sweet the light of Sabbath eve!
+    How soft the sunbeam lingering there!
+    Those holy hours this, low earth leave,
+    And rise on wings of faith and prayer."
+
+
+
+
+LET EVERY MAN MIND HIS OWN BUSINESS.
+
+
+"And so you will not sign this paper?" said Alfred Melton to his cousin,
+a fine-looking young man, who was lounging by the centre table.
+
+"Not I, indeed. What in life have I to do with these decidedly vulgar
+temperance pledges? Pshaw! they have a relish of whiskey in their very
+essence!"
+
+"Come, come, Cousin Melton," said a brilliant, dark-eyed girl, who had
+been lolling on the sofa during the conference, "I beg of you to give
+over attempting to evangelize Edward. You see, as Falstaff has it, 'he
+is little better than one of the wicked.' You must not waste such
+valuable temperance documents on him."
+
+"But, seriously, Melton, my good fellow," resumed Edward, "this signing,
+and sealing, and pledging is altogether an unnecessary affair for me. My
+past and present habits, my situation in life,--in short, every thing
+that can be mentioned with regard to me,--goes against the supposition
+of my ever becoming the slave of a vice so debasing; and this pledging
+myself to avoid it is something altogether needless--nay, by
+implication, it is degrading. As to what you say of my influence, I am
+inclined to the opinion, that if every man will look to himself, every
+man will be looked to. This modern notion of tacking the whole
+responsibility of society on to every individual is one I am not at all
+inclined to adopt; for, first, I know it is a troublesome doctrine; and,
+secondly, I doubt if it be a true one. For both which reasons, I shall
+decline extending to it my patronage."
+
+"Well, positively," exclaimed the lady, "you gentlemen have the gift of
+continuance in an uncommon degree. You have discussed this matter
+backward and forward till I am ready to perish. I will take the matter
+in hand myself, and sign a temperance pledge for Edward, and see that he
+gets into none of those naughty courses upon which you have been so
+pathetic."
+
+"I dare say," said Melton, glancing on her brilliant face with evident
+admiration, "that you will be the best temperance pledge he could have.
+But every man, cousin, may not be so fortunate."
+
+"But, Melton," said Edward, "seeing my steady habits are so well
+provided for, you must carry your logic and eloquence to some poor
+fellow less favored." And thus the conference ended.
+
+"What a good disinterested fellow Melton is!" said Edward, after he had
+left.
+
+"Yes, good, as the day is long," said Augusta, "but rather prosy, after
+all. This tiresome temperance business! One never hears the end of it
+nowadays. Temperance papers--temperance tracts--temperance
+hotels--temperance this, that, and the other thing, even down to
+temperance pocket handkerchiefs for little boys! Really, the world is
+getting intemperately temperate."
+
+"Ah, well! with the security you have offered, Augusta, I shall dread no
+temptation."
+
+Though there was nothing peculiar in these words, yet there was a
+certain earnestness of tone that called the color into the face of
+Augusta, and set her to sewing with uncommon assiduity. And thereupon
+Edward proceeded with some remark about "guardian angels," together with
+many other things of the kind, which, though they contain no more that
+is new than a temperance lecture, always seem to have a peculiar
+freshness to people in certain circumstances. In fact, before the hour
+was at an end, Edward and Augusta had forgotten where they began, and
+had wandered far into that land of anticipations and bright dreams which
+surrounds the young and loving before they eat of the tree of
+experience, and gain the fatal knowledge of good and evil.
+
+But here, stopping our sketching pencil, let us throw in a little
+background and perspective that will enable our readers to perceive more
+readily the entire picture.
+
+Edward Howard was a young man whose brilliant talents and captivating
+manners had placed him first in the society in which he moved. Though
+without property or weight of family connections, he had become a leader
+in the circles where these appendages are most considered, and there
+were none of their immunities and privileges that were not freely at his
+disposal.
+
+Augusta Elmore was conspicuous in all that lies within the sphere of
+feminine attainment. She was an orphan, and accustomed from a very early
+age to the free enjoyment and control of an independent property. This
+circumstance, doubtless, added to the magic of her personal graces in
+procuring for her that flattering deference which beauty and wealth
+secure.
+
+Her mental powers were naturally superior, although, from want of
+motive, they had received no development, except such as would secure
+success in society. Native good sense, with great strength of feeling
+and independence of mind, had saved her from becoming heartless and
+frivolous. She was better fitted to lead and to influence than to be
+influenced or led. And hence, though not swayed by any habitual sense of
+moral responsibility, the tone of her character seemed altogether more
+elevated than the average of fashionable society.
+
+General expectation had united the destiny of two persons who seemed
+every way fitted for each other, and for once general expectation did
+not err. A few months after the interview mentioned were witnessed the
+festivities and congratulations of their brilliant and happy marriage.
+
+Never did two young persons commence life under happier auspices. "What
+an exact match!" "What a beautiful couple!" said all the gossips. "They
+seem made for each other," said every one; and so thought the happy
+lovers themselves.
+
+Love, which with persons of strong character is always an earnest and
+sobering principle, had made them thoughtful and considerate; and as
+they looked forward to future life, and talked of the days before them,
+their plans and ideas were as rational as any plans can be, when formed
+entirely with reference to this life, without any regard to another.
+
+For a while their absorbing attachment to each other tended to withdraw
+them from the temptations and allurements of company; and many a long
+winter evening passed delightfully in the elegant quietude of home, as
+they read, and sang, and talked of the past, and dreamed of the future
+in each other's society. But, contradictory as it may appear to the
+theory of the sentimentalist, it is nevertheless a fact, that two
+persons cannot always find sufficient excitement in talking to each
+other merely; and this is especially true of those to whom high
+excitement has been a necessary of life. After a while, the young
+couple, though loving each other none the less, began to respond to the
+many calls which invited them again into society, and the pride they
+felt in each other added zest to the pleasures of their return.
+
+As the gaze of admiration followed the graceful motions of the beautiful
+wife, and the whispered tribute went round the circle whenever she
+entered, Edward felt a pride beyond all that flattery, addressed to
+himself, had ever excited; and Augusta, when told of the convivial
+talents and powers of entertainment which distinguished her husband,
+could not resist the temptation of urging him into society even oftener
+than his own wishes would have led him.
+
+Alas! neither of them knew the perils of constant excitement, nor
+supposed that, in thus alienating themselves from the pure and simple
+pleasures of home, they were risking their whole capital of happiness.
+It is in indulging the first desire for extra stimulus that the first
+and deepest danger to domestic peace lies. Let that stimulus be either
+bodily or mental, its effects are alike to be dreaded.
+
+The man or the woman to whom habitual excitement of any kind has become
+essential has taken the first step towards ruin. In the case of a woman,
+it leads to discontent, fretfulness, and dissatisfaction with the quiet
+duties of domestic life; in the case of a man, it leads almost
+invariably to animal stimulus, ruinous alike to the powers of body and
+mind.
+
+Augusta, fondly trusting to the virtue of her husband, saw no danger in
+the constant round of engagements which were gradually drawing his
+attention from the graver cares of business, from the pursuit of
+self-improvement, and from the love of herself. Already there was in her
+horizon the cloud "as big as a man's hand"--the precursor of future
+darkness and tempest; but, too confident and buoyant, she saw it not.
+
+It was not until the cares and duties of a mother began to confine her
+at home, that she first felt, with a startling sensation of fear, that
+there was an alteration in her husband, though even then the change was
+so shadowy and indefinite that it could not be defined by words.
+
+It was known by that quick, prophetic sense which reveals to the heart
+of woman the first variation in the pulse of affection, though it be so
+slight that no other touch can detect it.
+
+Edward was still fond, affectionate, admiring; and when he tendered her
+all the little attentions demanded by her situation, or caressed and
+praised his beautiful son, she felt satisfied and happy. But when she
+saw that, even without her, the convivial circle had its attractions,
+and that he could leave her to join it, she sighed, she scarce knew why.
+"Surely," she said, "I am not so selfish as to wish to rob him of
+pleasure because I cannot enjoy it with him. But yet, once he told me
+there was no pleasure where I was not. Alas! is it true, what I have so
+often heard, that such feelings cannot always last?"
+
+Poor Augusta! she knew not how deep reason she had to fear. She saw not
+the temptations that surrounded her husband in the circles where to all
+the stimulus of wit and intellect was often added the zest of _wine_,
+used far too freely for safety.
+
+Already had Edward become familiar with a degree of physical excitement
+which touches the very verge of intoxication; yet, strong in
+self-confidence, and deluded by the customs of society, he dreamed not
+of danger. The traveller who has passed above the rapids of Niagara may
+have noticed the spot where the first white sparkling ripple announces
+the downward tendency of the waters. All here is brilliancy and beauty;
+and as the waters ripple and dance in the sunbeam, they seem only as if
+inspired by a spirit of new life, and not as hastening to a dreadful
+fall. So the first approach to intemperance, that ruins both body and
+soul, seems only like the buoyancy and exulting freshness of a new life,
+and the unconscious voyager feels his bark undulating with a thrill of
+delight, ignorant of the inexorable hurry, the tremendous sweep, with
+which the laughing waters urge him on beyond the reach of hope or
+recovery.
+
+It was at this period in the life of Edward that one judicious and manly
+friend, who would have had the courage to point out to him the danger
+that every one else perceived, might have saved him. But among the
+circle of his acquaintances there was none such. "_Let every man mind
+his own business_" was their universal maxim. True, heads were gravely
+shaken, and Mr. A. regretted to Mr. B. that so promising a young man
+seemed about to ruin himself. But one was "_no relation_," of Edward's,
+and the other "felt a delicacy in speaking on such a subject," and
+therefore, according to a very ancient precedent, they "passed by on the
+other side." Yet it was at Mr. A.'s sideboard, always sparkling with the
+choicest wine, that he had felt the first excitement of extra stimulus;
+it was at Mr. B.'s house that the convivial club began to hold their
+meetings, which, after a time, found a more appropriate place in a
+public hotel. It is thus that the sober, the regular, and the discreet,
+whose constitution saves them from liabilities to excess, will accompany
+the ardent and excitable to the very verge of danger, and then wonder at
+their want of self-control.
+
+It was a cold winter evening, and the wind whistled drearily around the
+closed shutters of the parlor in which Augusta was sitting. Every thing
+around her bore the marks of elegance and comfort.
+
+Splendid books and engravings lay about in every direction. Vases of
+rare and costly flowers exhaled perfume, and magnificent mirrors
+multiplied every object. All spoke of luxury and repose, save the
+anxious and sad countenance of its mistress.
+
+It was late, and she had watched anxiously for her husband for many long
+hours. She drew out her gold and diamond repeater, and looked at it. It
+was long past midnight. She sighed as she remembered the pleasant
+evenings they had passed together, as her eye fell on the books they had
+read together, and on her piano and harp, now silent, and thought of all
+he had said and looked in those days when each was all to the other.
+
+She was aroused from this melancholy revery by a loud knocking at the
+street door. She hastened to open it, but started back at the sight it
+disclosed--her husband borne by four men.
+
+"Dead! is he dead?" she screamed, in agony.
+
+"No, ma'am," said one of the men, "but he might as well be dead as in
+such a fix as this."
+
+The whole truth, in all its degradation, flashed on the mind of Augusta.
+Without a question or comment, she motioned to the sofa in the parlor,
+and her husband was laid there. She locked the street door, and when the
+last retreating footstep had died away, she turned to the sofa, and
+stood gazing in fixed and almost stupefied silence on the face of her
+senseless husband.
+
+At once she realized the whole of her fearful lot. She saw before her
+the blight of her own affections, the ruin of her helpless children, the
+disgrace and misery of her husband. She looked around her in helpless
+despair, for she well knew the power of the vice whose deadly seal was
+set upon her husband. As one who is struggling and sinking in the waters
+casts a last dizzy glance at the green sunny banks and distant trees
+which seem sliding from his view, so did all the scenes of her happy
+days pass in a moment before her, and she groaned aloud in bitterness of
+spirit. "Great God! help me, help me," she prayed. "Save him--O, save my
+husband."
+
+Augusta was a woman of no common energy of spirit, and when the first
+wild burst of anguish was over, she resolved not to be wanting to her
+husband and children in a crisis so dreadful.
+
+"When he awakes," she mentally exclaimed, "I will warn and implore; I
+will pour out my whole soul to save him. My poor husband, you have been
+misled--betrayed. But you are too good, too generous, too noble to be
+sacrificed without a struggle."
+
+It was late the next morning before the stupor in which Edward was
+plunged began to pass off. He slowly opened his eyes, started up wildly,
+gazed hurriedly around the room, till his eye met the fixed and
+sorrowful gaze of his wife. The past instantly flashed upon him, and a
+deep flush passed over his countenance. There was a dead, a solemn
+silence, until Augusta, yielding to her agony, threw herself into his
+arms, and wept.
+
+"Then you do not hate me, Augusta?" said he, sorrowfully.
+
+"Hate you--never! But, O Edward, Edward, what has beguiled you?"
+
+"My wife--you once promised to be my guardian in virtue--such you are,
+and will be. O Augusta! you have looked on what you shall never see
+again--never--never--so help me God!" said he, looking up with solemn
+earnestness.
+
+And Augusta, as she gazed on the noble face, the ardent expression of
+sincerity and remorse, could not doubt that her husband was saved. But
+Edward's plan of reformation had one grand defect. It was merely
+modification and retrenchment, and not _entire abandonment_. He could
+not feel it necessary to cut himself off entirely from the scenes and
+associations where temptation had met him. He considered not that, when
+the temperate flow of the blood and the even balance of the nerves have
+once been destroyed, there is, ever after, a double and fourfold
+liability, which often makes a man the sport of the first untoward
+chance.
+
+He still contrived to stimulate sufficiently to prevent the return of a
+calm and healthy state of the mind and body, and to make constant
+self-control and watchfulness necessary.
+
+It is a great mistake to call nothing intemperance but that degree of
+physical excitement which completely overthrows the mental powers. There
+is a state of nervous excitability, resulting from what is often called
+moderate stimulation, which often long precedes this, and is, in regard
+to it, like the premonitory warnings of the fatal cholera--an
+unsuspected draught on the vital powers, from which, at any moment, they
+may sink into irremediable collapse.
+
+It is in this state, often, that the spirit of gambling or of wild
+speculation is induced by the morbid cravings of an over-stimulated
+system. Unsatisfied with the healthy and regular routine of business,
+and the laws of gradual and solid prosperity, the excited and unsteady
+imagination leads its subjects to daring risks, with the alternative of
+unbounded gain on the one side, or of utter ruin on the other. And when,
+as is too often the case, that ruin comes, unrestrained and desperate
+intemperance is the wretched resort to allay the ravings of
+disappointment and despair.
+
+Such was the case with Edward. He had lost his interest in his regular
+business, and he embarked the bulk of his property in a brilliant scheme
+then in vogue; and when he found a crisis coming, threatening ruin and
+beggary, he had recourse to the fatal stimulus, which, alas! he had
+never wholly abandoned.
+
+At this time he spent some months in a distant city, separated from his
+wife and family, while the insidious power of temptation daily
+increased, as he kept up, by artificial stimulus, the flagging vigor of
+his mind and nervous system.
+
+It came at last--the blow which shattered alike his brilliant dreams and
+his real prosperity. The large fortune brought by his wife vanished in a
+moment, so that scarcely a pittance remained in his hands. From the
+distant city where he had been to superintend his schemes, he thus wrote
+to his too confiding wife:--
+
+"Augusta, all is over! expect no more from your husband--believe no more
+of his promises--for he is lost to you and you to him. Augusta, our
+property is gone; _your_ property, which I have blindly risked, is all
+swallowed up. But is that the worst? No, no, Augusta; _I_ am lost--lost,
+body and soul, and as irretrievably as the perishing riches I have
+squandered. Once I had energy--health--nerve--resolution; but all are
+gone: yes, yes, I have yielded--I do yield daily to what is at once my
+tormentor and my temporary refuge from intolerable misery. You remember
+the sad hour you first knew your husband was a drunkard. Your look on
+that morning of misery--shall I ever forget it? Yet, blind and confiding
+as you were, how soon did your ill-judged confidence in me return! Vain
+hopes! I was even then past recovery--even then sealed over to blackness
+of darkness forever.
+
+"Alas! my wife, my peerless wife, why am I your husband? why the father
+of such children as you have given me? Is there nothing in your
+unequalled loveliness--nothing in the innocence of our helpless babes,
+that is powerful enough to recall me? No, there is not.
+
+"Augusta, you know not the dreadful gnawing, the intolerable agony of
+this master passion. I walk the floor--I think of my own dear home, my
+high hopes, my proud expectations, my children, my wife, my own immortal
+soul. I feel that I am sacrificing all--feel it till I am withered with
+agony; but the hour comes--the burning hour, and _all is in vain_. I
+shall return to you no more, Augusta. All the little wreck I have saved
+I send: you have friends, relatives--above all, you have an energy of
+mind, a capacity of resolute action, beyond that of ordinary women, and
+you shall never be bound--the living to the dead. True, you will suffer,
+thus to burst the bonds that unite us; but be resolute, for you will
+suffer more to watch from day to day the slow workings of death and ruin
+in your husband. Would you stay with me, to see every vestige of what
+you once loved passing away--to endure the caprice, the moroseness, the
+delirious anger of one no longer master of himself? Would you make your
+children victims and fellow-sufferers with you? No! dark and dreadful is
+my path! I will walk it alone: no one shall go with me.
+
+"In some peaceful retirement you may concentrate your strong feelings
+upon your children, and bring them up to fill a place in your heart
+which a worthless husband has abandoned. If I leave you now, you will
+remember me as I have been--you will love me and weep for me when dead;
+but if you stay with me, your love will be worn out; I shall become the
+object of disgust and loathing. Therefore farewell, my wife--my first,
+best love, farewell! with you I part with hope,--
+
+          'And with hope, farewell fear,
+    Farewell remorse: all good to me is lost:
+    Evil, be thou my good.'
+
+This is a wild strain, but fit for me: do not seek for me, do not write:
+nothing can save me."
+
+Thus abruptly began and ended the letter that conveyed to Augusta the
+death doom of her hopes. There are moments of agony when the most
+worldly heart is pressed upward to God, even as a weight will force
+upward the reluctant water. Augusta had been a generous, a high-minded,
+an affectionate woman, but she had lived entirely for this world. Her
+chief good had been her husband and her children. These had been her
+pride, her reliance, her dependence. Strong in her own resources, she
+had never felt the need of looking to a higher power for assistance and
+happiness. But when this letter fell from her trembling hand, her heart
+died within her at its wild and reckless bitterness.
+
+In her desperation she looked up to God. "What have I to live for now?"
+was the first feeling of her heart.
+
+But she repressed this inquiry of selfish agony, and besought almighty
+assistance to nerve her weakness; and here first began that practical
+acquaintance with the truths and hopes of religion which changed her
+whole character.
+
+The possibility of blind, confiding idolatry of any earthly object was
+swept away by the fall of her husband, and with the full energy of a
+decided and desolate spirit, she threw herself on the protection of an
+almighty Helper. She followed her husband to the city whither he had
+gone, found him, and vainly attempted to save.
+
+There were the usual alternations of short-lived reformations, exciting
+hopes only to be destroyed. There was the gradual sinking of the body,
+the decay of moral feeling and principle--the slow but sure approach of
+disgusting animalism, which marks the progress of the drunkard.
+
+It was some years after that a small and partly ruinous tenement in the
+outskirts of A. received a new family. The group consisted of four
+children, whose wan and wistful countenances, and still, unchildlike
+deportment, testified an early acquaintance with want and sorrow. There
+was the mother, faded and care-worn, whose dark and melancholy eyes,
+pale cheeks, and compressed lips told of years of anxiety and endurance.
+There was the father, with haggard face, unsteady step, and that
+callous, reckless air, that betrayed long familiarity with degradation
+and crime. Who, that had seen Edward Howard in the morning and freshness
+of his days, could have recognized him in this miserable husband and
+father? or who, in this worn and woe-stricken woman, would have known
+the beautiful, brilliant, and accomplished Augusta? Yet such changes are
+not fancy, as many a bitter and broken heart can testify.
+
+Augusta had followed her guilty husband through many a change and many a
+weary wandering. All hope of reformation had gradually faded away. Her
+own eyes had seen, her ears had heard, all those disgusting details, too
+revolting to be portrayed; for in drunkenness there is no royal road--no
+salvo for greatness of mind, refinement of taste, or tenderness of
+feeling. All alike are merged in the corruption of a moral death.
+
+The traveller, who met Edward reeling by the roadside, was sometimes
+startled to hear the fragments of classical lore, or wild bursts of
+half-remembered poetry, mixing strangely with the imbecile merriment of
+intoxication. But when he stopped to gaze, there was no further mark on
+his face or in his eye by which he could be distinguished from the
+loathsome and lowest drunkard.
+
+Augusta had come with her husband to a city where they were wholly
+unknown, that she might at least escape the degradation of their lot in
+the presence of those who had known them in better days. The long and
+dreadful struggle that annihilated the hopes of this life had raised her
+feelings to rest upon the next, and the habit of communion with God,
+induced by sorrows which nothing else could console, had given a tender
+dignity to her character such as nothing else could bestow.
+
+It is true, she deeply loved her children; but it was with a holy,
+chastened love, such as inspired the sentiment once breathed by Him "who
+was made perfect through sufferings."
+
+"For their sakes I sanctify myself, that they also may be sanctified."
+
+Poverty, deep poverty, had followed their steps, but yet she had not
+fainted. Talents which in her happier days had been nourished merely as
+luxuries, were now stretched to the utmost to furnish a support; while
+from the resources of her own reading she drew that which laid the
+foundation for early mental culture in her children.
+
+Augusta had been here but a few weeks before her footsteps were traced
+by her only brother, who had lately discovered her situation, and urged
+her to forsake her unworthy husband and find refuge with him.
+
+"Augusta, my sister, I have found you!" he exclaimed, as he suddenly
+entered one day, while she was busied with the work of her family.
+
+"Henry, my dear brother!" There was a momentary illumination of
+countenance accompanying these words, which soon faded into a mournful
+quietness, as she cast her eyes around on the scanty accommodations and
+mean apartment.
+
+"I see how it is, Augusta; step by step, you are sinking--dragged down
+by a vain sense of duty to one no longer worthy. I cannot bear it any
+longer; I have come to take you away."
+
+Augusta turned from him, and looked abstractedly out of the window. Her
+features settled in thought. Their expression gradually deepened from
+their usual tone of mild, resigned sorrow to one of keen anguish.
+
+"Henry," said she, turning towards him, "never was mortal woman so
+blessed in another as I once was in him. How can I forget it? Who knew
+him in those days that did not admire and love him? They tempted and
+insnared him; and even I urged him into the path of danger. He fell, and
+there was none to help. I urged reformation, and he again and again
+promised, resolved, and began. But again they tempted him--even his very
+best friends; yes, and that, too, when they knew his danger. They led
+him on as far as it was safe for _them_ to go, and when the sweep of his
+more excitable temperament took him past the point of safety and
+decency, they stood by, and coolly wondered and lamented. How often was
+he led on by such heartless friends to humiliating falls, and then
+driven to desperation by the cold look, averted faces, and cruel sneers
+of those whose medium temperament and cooler blood saved them from the
+snares which they saw were enslaving him. What if _I_ had forsaken him
+_then_? What account should I have rendered to God? Every time a friend
+has been alienated by his comrades, it has seemed to seal him with
+another seal. I am his wife--and mine will be _the last_. Henry, when I
+leave him, I _know_ his eternal ruin is sealed. I cannot do it now; a
+little longer--a little longer; the hour, I see, must come. I know my
+duty to my children forbids me to keep them here; take them--they are my
+last earthly comforts, Henry--but you must take them away. It may be--O
+God--perhaps it _must be_, that I shall soon follow; but not till I have
+tried _once more_. What is this present life to one who has suffered as
+I have? Nothing. But eternity! O Henry! eternity--how can I abandon him
+to _everlasting_ despair! Under the breaking of my heart I have borne
+up. I have borne up under _all_ that can try a woman; but _this_
+thought----" She stopped, and seemed struggling with herself; but at
+last, borne down by a tide of agony, she leaned her head on her hands;
+the tears streamed through her fingers, and her whole frame shook with
+convulsive sobs.
+
+Her brother wept with her; nor dared he again to touch the point so
+solemnly guarded. The next day Augusta parted from her children, hoping
+something from feelings that, possibly, might be stirred by their
+absence in the bosom of their father.
+
+It was about a week after this that Augusta one evening presented
+herself at the door of a rich Mr. L., whose princely mansion was one of
+the ornaments of the city of A. It was not till she reached the
+sumptuous drawing room that she recognized in Mr. L. one whom she and
+her husband had frequently met in the gay circles of their early life.
+Altered as she was, Mr. L. did not recognize her, but compassionately
+handed her a chair, and requested her to wait the return of his lady,
+who was out; and then turning, he resumed his conversation with another
+gentleman.
+
+"Now, Dallas," said he, "you are altogether excessive and intemperate in
+this matter. Society is not to be reformed by every man directing his
+efforts towards his neighbor, but by every man taking care of himself.
+It is you and I, my dear sir, who must begin with ourselves, and every
+other man must do the same; and then society will be effectually
+reformed. Now this modern way, by which every man considers it his duty
+to attend to the spiritual matters of his next-door neighbor, is taking
+the business at the wrong end altogether. It makes a vast deal of
+appearance, but it does very little good."
+
+"But suppose your neighbor feels no disposition to attend to his own
+improvement--what then?"
+
+"Why, then it is his own concern, and not mine. What my Maker requires
+is, that I do _my_ duty, and not fret about my neighbor's."
+
+"But, my friend, that is the very question. What is the duty your Maker
+requires? Does it not include some regard to your neighbor, some care
+and thought for his interest and improvement?"
+
+"Well, well, I do that by setting a good example. I do not mean by
+example what you do--that is, that I am to stop drinking wine because it
+may lead him to drink brandy, any more than that I must stop eating
+because he may eat too much and become a dyspeptic--but that I am to use
+my wine, and every thing else, temperately and decently, and thus set
+him a good example."
+
+The conversation was here interrupted by the return of Mrs. L. It
+recalled, in all its freshness, to the mind of Augusta the days when
+both she and her husband had thus spoken and thought.
+
+Ah, how did these sentiments appear to her now--lonely, helpless,
+forlorn--the wife of a ruined husband, the mother of more than orphan
+children! How different from what they seemed, when, secure in ease, in
+wealth, in gratified affections, she thoughtlessly echoed the common
+phraseology, "Why must people concern themselves so much in their
+neighbors' affairs? Let every man mind his own business."
+
+Augusta received in silence from Mrs. L. the fine sewing for which she
+came, and left the room.
+
+"Ellen," said Mr. L. to his wife; "that poor woman must be in trouble of
+some kind or other. You must go some time, and see if any thing can be
+done for her."
+
+"How singular!" said Mrs. L.; "she reminds me all the time of Augusta
+Howard. You remember her, my dear?"
+
+"Yes, poor thing! and her husband too. That was a shocking affair of
+Edward Howard's. I hear that he became an intemperate, worthless fellow.
+Who could have thought it!"
+
+"But you recollect, my dear," said Mrs. L., "I predicted it six months
+before it was talked of. You remember, at the wine party which you gave
+after Mary's wedding, he was so excited that he was hardly decent. I
+mentioned then that he was getting into dangerous ways. But he was such
+an excitable creature, that two or three glasses would put him quite
+beside himself. And there is George Eldon, who takes off his ten or
+twelve glasses, and no one suspects it."
+
+"Well, it was a great pity," replied Mr. L.; "Howard was worth a dozen
+George Eldons."
+
+"Do you suppose," said Dallas, who had listened thus far in silence,
+"that if he had moved in a circle where it was the universal custom to
+_banish all stimulating drinks_, he would thus have fallen?"
+
+"I cannot say," said Mr. L.; "perhaps not."
+
+Mr. Dallas was a gentleman of fortune and leisure, and of an ardent and
+enthusiastic temperament. Whatever engaged him absorbed his whole soul;
+and of late years, his mind had become deeply engaged in schemes of
+philanthropy for the improvement of his fellow-men. He had, in his
+benevolent ministrations, often passed the dwelling of Edward, and was
+deeply interested in the pale and patient wife and mother. He made
+acquaintance with her through the aid of her children, and, in one way
+and another, learned particulars of their history that awakened the
+deepest interest and concern. None but a mind as sanguine as his would
+have dreamed of attempting to remedy such hopeless misery by the
+reformation of him who was its cause. But such a plan had actually
+occurred to him. The remarks of Mr. and Mrs. L. recalled the idea, and
+he soon found that his intended _protégé_ was the very Edward Howard
+whose early history was thus disclosed. He learned all the minutiæ from
+these his early associates without disclosing his aim, and left them
+still more resolved upon his benevolent plan.
+
+He watched his opportunity when Edward was free from the influence of
+stimulus, and it was just after the loss of his children had called
+forth some remains of his better nature. Gradually and kindly he tried
+to touch the springs of his mind, and awaken some of its buried
+sensibilities.
+
+"It is in vain, Mr. Dallas, to talk thus to me," said Edward, when, one
+day, with the strong eloquence of excited feeling, he painted the
+motives for attempting reformation; "you might as well attempt to
+reclaim the lost in hell. Do you think," he continued, in a wild,
+determined manner--"do you think I do not know all you can tell me? I
+have it all by heart, sir; no one can preach such discourses as I can on
+this subject: I know all--believe all--as the devils believe and
+tremble."
+
+"Ay, but," said Dallas, "to you _there is hope_; you _are not_ to ruin
+yourself forever."
+
+"And who the devil are you, to speak to me in this way?" said Edward,
+looking up from his sullen despair with a gleam of curiosity, if not of
+hope.
+
+"God's messenger to you, Edward Howard," said Dallas, fixing his keen
+eye upon him solemnly; "to you, Edward Howard, who have thrown away
+talents, hope, and health--who have blasted the heart of your wife, and
+beggared your suffering children. To you I am the messenger of your
+God--by me he offers health, and hope, and self-respect, and the regard
+of your fellow-men. You may heal the broken heart of your wife, and give
+back a father to your helpless children. Think of it, Howard: what if it
+were possible? Only suppose it. What would it be again to feel yourself
+a man, beloved and respected as you once were, with a happy home, a
+cheerful wife, and smiling little ones? Think how you could repay your
+poor wife for all her tears! What hinders you from gaining all this?"
+
+"Just what hindered the rich man in hell--'_between us there is a great
+gulf fixed_;' it lies between me and all that is good; my wife, my
+children, my hope of heaven, are all on the other side."
+
+"Ay, but this gulf can be passed: Howard, what _would you give_ to be a
+temperate man?"
+
+"What would I give?" said Howard. He thought for a moment, and burst
+into tears.
+
+"Ah, I see how it is," said Dallas; "you need a friend, and God has sent
+you one."
+
+"What _can_ you do for me, Mr. Dallas?" said Edward, in a tone of wonder
+at the confidence of his assurances.
+
+"I will tell you what I can do: I can take you to my house, and give you
+a room, and watch over you until the strongest temptations are past--I
+can give you business again. I can do _all_ for you that needs to be
+done, if you will give yourself to my care."
+
+"O God of mercy!" exclaimed the unhappy man, "is there hope for me? I
+cannot believe it possible; but take me where you choose--I will follow
+and obey."
+
+A few hours witnessed the transfer of the lost husband to one of the
+retired apartments in the elegant mansion of Dallas, where he found his
+anxious and grateful wife still stationed as his watchful guardian.
+
+Medical treatment, healthful exercise, useful employment, simple food,
+and pure water were connected with a personal supervision by Dallas,
+which, while gently and politely sustained, at first amounted to actual
+imprisonment.
+
+For a time the reaction from the sudden suspension of habitual stimulus
+was dreadful, and even with tears did the unhappy man entreat to be
+permitted to abandon the undertaking. But the resolute steadiness of
+Dallas and the tender entreaties of his wife prevailed. It is true that
+he might be said to be saved "so as by fire;" for a fever, and a long
+and fierce delirium, wasted him almost to the borders of the grave.
+
+But, at length, the struggle between life and death was over, and though
+it left him stretched on the bed of sickness, emaciated and weak, yet he
+was restored to his right mind, and was conscious of returning health.
+Let any one who has laid a friend in the grave, and known what it is to
+have the heart fail with longing for them day by day, imagine the dreamy
+and unreal joy of Augusta when she began again to see in Edward the
+husband so long lost to her. It was as if the grave had given back the
+dead.
+
+"Augusta!" said he, faintly, as, after a long and quiet sleep, he awoke
+free from delirium. She bent over him. "Augusta, I am redeemed--I am
+saved--I feel in myself that I am made whole."
+
+The high heart of Augusta melted at these words. She trembled and wept.
+Her husband wept also, and after a pause he continued,--
+
+"It is more than being restored to this life--I feel that it is the
+beginning of eternal life. It is the Savior who sought me out, and I
+know that he is able to keep me from falling."
+
+But we will draw a veil over a scene which words have little power to
+paint.
+
+"Pray, Dallas," said Mr. L., one day, "who is that fine-looking young
+man whom I met in your office this morning? I thought his face seemed
+familiar."
+
+"It is a Mr. Howard--a young lawyer whom I have lately taken into
+business with me."
+
+"Strange! Impossible!" said Mr. L. "Surely this cannot be the Howard
+that I once knew."
+
+"I believe he is," said Mr. Dallas.
+
+"Why, I thought he was gone--dead and done over, long ago, with
+intemperance."
+
+"He was so; few have ever sunk lower; but he now promises even to outdo
+all that was hoped of him."
+
+"Strange! Why, Dallas, what did bring about this change?"
+
+"I feel a delicacy in mentioning how it came about to you, Mr. L., as
+there undoubtedly was a great deal of 'interference with other men's
+matters' in the business. In short, the young man fell in the way of one
+of those meddlesome fellows, who go prowling about, distributing tracts,
+forming temperance societies, and all that sort of stuff."
+
+"Come, come, Dallas," said Mr. L., smiling, "I must hear the story, for
+all that."
+
+"First call with me at this house," said Dallas, stopping before the
+door of a neat little mansion. They were soon in the parlor. The first
+sight that met their eyes was Edward Howard, who, with a cheek glowing
+with exercise, was tossing aloft a blooming boy, while Augusta was
+watching his motions, her face radiant with smiles.
+
+"Mr. and Mrs. Howard, this is Mr. L., an old acquaintance, I believe."
+
+There was a moment of mutual embarrassment and surprise, soon dispelled,
+however, by the frank cordiality of Edward. Mr. L. sat down, but could
+scarce withdraw his eyes from the countenance of Augusta, in whose
+eloquent face he recognized a beauty of a higher cast than even in her
+earlier days.
+
+He glanced about the apartment. It was simply but tastefully furnished,
+and wore an air of retired, domestic comfort. There were books,
+engravings, and musical instruments. Above all, there were four happy,
+healthy-looking children, pursuing studies or sports at the farther end
+of the room.
+
+After a short call they regained the street.
+
+"Dallas, you are a happy man," said Mr. L.; "that family will be a mine
+of jewels to you."
+
+He was right. Every soul saved from pollution and ruin is a jewel to him
+that reclaims it, whose lustre only eternity can disclose; and therefore
+it is written, "They that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the
+firmament, and they that turn many to righteousness, as the stars
+forever and ever."
+
+
+
+
+COUSIN WILLIAM.
+
+
+In a stately red house, in one of the villages of New England, lived the
+heroine of our story. She had every advantage of rank and wealth, for
+her father was a deacon of the church, and owned sheep, and oxen, and
+exceeding much substance. There was an appearance of respectability and
+opulence about all the demesnes. The house stood almost concealed amid a
+forest of apple trees, in spring blushing with blossoms, and in autumn
+golden with fruit. And near by might be seen the garden, surrounded by a
+red picket fence, enclosing all sorts of magnificence. There, in autumn,
+might be seen abundant squash vines, which seemed puzzled for room where
+to bestow themselves; and bright golden squashes, and full-orbed yellow
+pumpkins, looking as satisfied as the evening sun when he has just had
+his face washed in a shower, and is sinking soberly to bed. There were
+superannuated seed cucumbers, enjoying the pleasures of a contemplative
+old age; and Indian corn, nicely done up in green silk, with a specimen
+tassel hanging at the end of each ear. The beams of the summer sun
+darted through rows of crimson currants, abounding on bushes by the
+fence, while a sulky black currant bush sat scowling in one corner, a
+sort of garden curiosity.
+
+But time would fail us were we to enumerate all the wealth of Deacon
+Israel Taylor. He himself belonged to that necessary class of beings,
+who, though remarkable for nothing at all, are very useful in filling up
+the links of society. Far otherwise was his sister-in-law, Mrs. Abigail
+Evetts, who, on the demise of the deacon's wife, had assumed the reins
+of government in the household.
+
+This lady was of the same opinion that has animated many illustrious
+philosophers, namely, that the affairs of this world need a great deal
+of seeing to in order to have them go on prosperously; and although she
+did not, like them, engage in the supervision of the universe, she made
+amends by unremitting diligence in the department under her care. In her
+mind there was an evident necessity that every one should be up and
+doing: Monday, because it was washing day; Tuesday, because it was
+ironing day; Wednesday, because it was baking day; Thursday, because
+to-morrow was Friday; and so on to the end of the week. Then she had the
+care of reminding all in the house of every thing each was to do from
+week's end to week's end; and she was so faithful in this respect, that
+scarcely an original act of volition took place in the family. The poor
+deacon was reminded when he went out and when he came in, when he sat
+down and when he rose up, so that an act of omission could only have
+been committed through sheer malice prepense.
+
+But the supervision of a whole family of children afforded to a lady of
+her active turn of mind more abundant matter of exertion. To see that
+their faces were washed, their clothes mended, and their catechism
+learned; to see that they did not pick the flowers, nor throw stones at
+the chickens, nor sophisticate the great house dog, was an accumulation
+of care that devolved almost entirely on Mrs. Abigail, so that, by her
+own account, she lived and throve by a perpetual miracle.
+
+The eldest of her charge, at the time this story begins, was a girl just
+arrived at young ladyhood, and her name was Mary. Now we know that
+people very seldom have stories written about them who have not
+sylph-like forms, and glorious eyes, or, at least, "a certain
+inexpressible charm diffused over their whole person." But stories have
+of late so much abounded that they actually seem to have used up all the
+eyes, hair, teeth, lips, and forms necessary for a heroine, so that no
+one can now pretend to find an original collection wherewith to set one
+forth. These things considered, I regard it as fortunate that my heroine
+was not a beauty. She looked neither like a sylph, nor an oread, nor a
+fairy; she had neither _l'air distingué_ nor _l'air magnifique_, but
+bore a great resemblance to a real mortal girl, such as you might pass a
+dozen of without any particular comment--one of those appearances,
+which, though common as water, may, like that, be colored any way by the
+associations you connect with it. Accordingly, a faultless taste in
+dress, a perfect ease and gayety of manner, a constant flow of kindly
+feeling, seemed in her case to produce all the effect of beauty. Her
+manners had just dignity enough to repel impertinence without destroying
+the careless freedom and sprightliness in which she commonly indulged.
+No person had a merrier run of stories, songs, and village traditions,
+and all those odds and ends of character which form the materials for
+animated conversation. She had read, too, every thing she could find:
+Rollin's History, and Scott's Family Bible, that stood in the glass
+bookcase in the best room, and an odd volume of Shakspeare, and now and
+then one of Scott's novels, borrowed from a somewhat literary family in
+the neighborhood. She also kept an album to write her thoughts in, and
+was in a constant habit of cutting out all the pretty poetry from the
+corners of the newspapers, besides drying forget-me-nots and rosebuds,
+in memory of different particular friends, with a number of other little
+sentimental practices to which young ladies of sixteen and thereabout
+are addicted. She was also endowed with great constructiveness;
+so that, in these days of ladies' fairs, there was nothing from
+bellows-needlebooks down to web-footed pincushions to which she could
+not turn her hand. Her sewing certainly _was_ extraordinary, (we think
+too little is made of this in the accomplishments of heroines;) her
+stitching was like rows of pearls, and her cross-stitching was
+fairy-like; and for sewing over and over, as the village schoolma'am
+hath it, she had not her equal. And what shall we say of her pies and
+puddings? They would have converted the most reprobate old bachelor in
+the world. And then her sweeping and dusting! "Many daughters have done
+virtuously, but thou excellest them all!"
+
+And now, what do you suppose is coming next? Why, a young gentleman, of
+course; for about this time comes to settle in the village, and take
+charge of the academy, a certain William Barton. Now, if you wish to
+know more particularly who he was, we only wish we could refer you to
+Mrs. Abigail, who was most accomplished in genealogies and old wifes'
+fables, and she would have told you that "her gran'ther, Ike Evetts,
+married a wife who was second cousin to Peter Scranton, who was great
+uncle to Polly Mosely, whose daughter Mary married William Barton's
+father, just about the time old 'Squire Peter's house was burned down."
+And then would follow an account of the domestic history of all branches
+of the family since they came over from England. Be that as it may, it
+is certain that Mrs. Abigail denominated him cousin, and that he came to
+the deacon's to board; and he had not been there more than a week, and
+made sundry observations on Miss Mary, before he determined to call her
+cousin too, which he accomplished in the most natural way in the world.
+
+Mary was at first somewhat afraid of him, because she had heard that he
+had studied through all that was to be studied in Greek, and Latin, and
+German too; and she saw a library of books in his room, that made her
+sigh every time she looked at them, to think how much there was to be
+learned of which she was ignorant. But all this wore away, and presently
+they were the best friends in the world. He gave her books to read, and
+he gave her lessons in French, nothing puzzled by that troublesome verb
+which must be first conjugated, whether in French, Latin, or English.
+Then he gave her a deal of good advice about the cultivation of her mind
+and the formation of her character, all of which was very improving, and
+tended greatly to consolidate their friendship. But, unfortunately for
+Mary, William made quite as favorable an impression on the female
+community generally as he did on her, having distinguished himself on
+certain public occasions, such as delivering lectures on botany, and
+also, at the earnest request of the fourth of July committee, pronounced
+an oration which covered him with glory. He had been known, also, to
+write poetry, and had a retired and romantic air greatly bewitching to
+those who read Bulwer's novels. In short, it was morally certain,
+according to all rules of evidence, that if he had chosen to pay any
+lady of the village a dozen visits a week, she would have considered it
+as her duty to entertain him.
+
+William did visit; for, like many studious people, he found a need for
+the excitement of society; but, whether it was party or singing school,
+he walked home with Mary, of course, in as steady and domestic a manner
+as any man who has been married a twelvemonth. His air in conversing
+with her was inevitably more confidential than with any other one, and
+this was cause for envy in many a gentle breast, and an interesting
+diversity of reports with regard to her manner of treating the young
+gentleman went forth into the village.
+
+"I wonder Mary Taylor will laugh and joke so much with William Barton in
+company," said one. "Her manners are altogether too free," said another.
+"It is evident she has designs upon him," remarked a third. "And she
+cannot even conceal it," pursued a fourth.
+
+Some sayings of this kind at length reached the ears of Mrs. Abigail,
+who had the best heart in the world, and was so indignant that it might
+have done your heart good to see her. Still she thought it showed that
+"the girl needed _advising_;" and "she should _talk_ to Mary about the
+matter."
+
+But she first concluded to advise with William on the subject; and,
+therefore, after dinner the same day, while he was looking over a
+treatise on trigonometry or conic sections, she commenced upon him:--
+
+"Our Mary is growing up a fine girl."
+
+William was intent on solving a problem, and only understanding that
+something had been said, mechanically answered, "Yes."
+
+"A little wild or so," said Mrs. Abigail.
+
+"I know it," said William, fixing his eyes earnestly on E, F, B, C.
+
+"Perhaps you think her a little too talkative and free with you
+sometimes; you know girls do not always think what they do."
+
+"Certainly," said William, going on with his problem.
+
+"I think you had better speak to her about it," said Mrs. Abigail.
+
+"I think so too," said William, musing over his completed work, till at
+length he arose, put it in his pocket, and went to school.
+
+O, this unlucky concentrativeness! How many shocking things a man may
+indorse by the simple habit of saying "Yes" and "No," when he is not
+hearing what is said to him.
+
+The next morning, when William was gone to the academy, and Mary was
+washing the breakfast things, Aunt Abigail introduced the subject with
+great tact and delicacy by remarking.--
+
+"Mary, I guess you had better be rather less free with William than you
+have been."
+
+"Free!" said Mary, starting, and nearly dropping the cup from her hand;
+"why, aunt, what _do_ you mean?"
+
+"Why, Mary, you must not always be around so free in talking with him,
+at home, and in company, and every where. It won't do." The color
+started into Mary's cheek, and mounted even to her forehead, as she
+answered with a dignified air,--
+
+"I have not been too free; I know what is right and proper; I have not
+been doing any thing that was improper."
+
+Now, when one is going to give advice, it is very troublesome to have
+its necessity thus called in question; and Mrs. Abigail, who was fond of
+her own opinion, felt called upon to defend it.
+
+"Why, yes, you have, Mary; every body in the village notices it."
+
+"I don't care what every body in the village says. I shall always do
+what I think proper," retorted the young lady; "I know Cousin William
+does not think so."
+
+"Well, _I_ think he does, from some things I have heard him say."
+
+"O aunt! what have you heard him say?" said Mary, nearly upsetting a
+chair in the eagerness with which she turned to her aunt.
+
+"Mercy on us! you need not knock the house down, Mary. I don't remember
+exactly about it, only that his way of speaking made me think so."
+
+"O aunt! do tell me what it was, and all about it," said Mary, following
+her aunt, who went around dusting the furniture.
+
+Mrs. Abigail, like most obstinate people, who feel that they have gone
+too far, and yet are ashamed to go back, took refuge in an obstinate
+generalization, and only asserted that she had heard him say things, as
+if he did not quite like her ways.
+
+This is the most consoling of all methods in which to leave a matter of
+this kind for a person of active imagination. Of course, in five
+minutes, Mary had settled in her mind a list of remarks that would have
+been suited to any of her village companions, as coming from her cousin.
+All the improbability of the thing vanished in the absorbing
+consideration of its possibility; and, after a moment's reflection, she
+pressed her lips together in a very firm way, and remarked that "Mr.
+Barton would have no occasion to say such things again."
+
+It was very evident, from her heightened color and dignified air, that
+her state of mind was very heroical. As for poor Aunt Abigail, she felt
+sorry she had vexed her, and addressed herself most earnestly to her
+consolation, remarking, "Mary, I don't suppose William meant any thing.
+He knows you don't mean any thing wrong."
+
+"Don't _mean_ any thing wrong!" said Mary, indignantly.
+
+"Why, child, he thinks you don't know much about folks and things, and
+if you have been a little----"
+
+"But I have not been. It was he that talked with me first. It was he
+that did every thing first. He called me cousin--and he _is_ my cousin."
+
+"No, child, you are mistaken; for you remember his grandfather was----"
+
+"I don't care who his grandfather was; he has no right to think of me as
+he does."
+
+"Now, Mary, don't go to quarrelling with him; he can't help his
+thoughts, you know."
+
+"I don't care what he thinks," said Mary, flinging out of the room with
+tears in her eyes.
+
+Now, when a young lady is in such a state of affliction, the first thing
+to be done is to sit down and cry for two hours or more, which Mary
+accomplished in the most thorough manner; in the mean while making many
+reflections on the instability of human friendships, and resolving never
+to trust any one again as long as she lived, and thinking that this was
+a cold and hollow-hearted world, together with many other things she had
+read in books, but never realized so forcibly as at present. But what
+was to be done? Of course she did not wish to speak a word to William
+again, and wished he did not board there; and finally she put on her
+bonnet, and determined to go over to her other aunt's in the
+neighborhood, and spend the day, so that she might not see him at
+dinner.
+
+But it so happened that Mr. William, on coming home at noon, found
+himself unaccountably lonesome during school recess for dinner, and
+hearing where Mary was, determined to call after school at night at her
+aunt's, and attend her home.
+
+Accordingly, in the afternoon, as Mary was sitting in the parlor with
+two or three cousins, Mr. William entered.
+
+Mary was so anxious to look just as if nothing was the matter, that she
+turned away her head, and began to look out of the window just as the
+young gentleman came up to speak to her. So, after he had twice inquired
+after her health, she drew up very coolly, and said,--
+
+"Did you speak to me, sir?"
+
+William looked a little surprised at first, but seating himself by her,
+"To be sure," said he; "and I came to know why you ran away without
+leaving any message for me?"
+
+"It did not occur to me," said Mary, in the dry tone which, in a lady,
+means, "I will excuse you from any further conversation, if you please."
+William felt as if there was something different from common in all
+this, but thought that perhaps he was mistaken, and so continued:--
+
+"What a pity, now, that you should be so careless of me, when I was so
+thoughtful of you! I have come all this distance, to see how you do."
+
+"I am sorry to have given you the trouble," said Mary.
+
+"Cousin, are you unwell to-day?" said William.
+
+"No, sir," said Mary, going on with her sewing.
+
+There was something so marked and decisive in all this, that William
+could scarcely believe his ears. He turned away, and commenced a
+conversation with a young lady; and Mary, to show that she could talk if
+she chose, commenced relating a story to her cousins, and presently they
+were all in a loud laugh.
+
+"Mary has been full of her knickknacks to-day," said her old uncle,
+joining them.
+
+William looked at her: she never seemed brighter or in better spirits,
+and he began to think that even Cousin Mary might puzzle a man
+sometimes.
+
+He turned away, and began a conversation with old Mr. Zachary Coan on
+the raising of buckwheat--a subject which evidently required profound
+thought, for he never looked more grave, not to say melancholy.
+
+Mary glanced that way, and was struck with the sad and almost severe
+expression with which he was listening to the details of Mr. Zachary,
+and was convinced that he was no more thinking of buckwheat than she
+was.
+
+"I never thought of hurting his feelings so much," said she, relenting;
+"after all, he has been very kind to me. But he might have told me about
+it, and not somebody else." And hereupon she cast another glance towards
+him.
+
+William was not talking, but sat with his eyes fixed on the
+snuffer-tray, with an intense gravity of gaze that quite troubled her,
+and she could not help again blaming herself.
+
+"To be sure! Aunt was right; he could not help his thoughts. I will try
+to forget it," thought she.
+
+Now, you must not think Mary was sitting still and gazing during this
+soliloquy. No, she was talking and laughing, apparently the most
+unconcerned spectator in the room. So passed the evening till the little
+company broke up.
+
+"I am ready to attend you home," said William, in a tone of cold and
+almost haughty deference.
+
+"I am obliged to you," said the young lady, in a similar tone, "but I
+shall stay all night;" then, suddenly changing her tone, she said, "No,
+I cannot keep it up any longer. I will go home with you, Cousin
+William."
+
+"Keep up what?" said William, with surprise.
+
+Mary was gone for her bonnet. She came out, took his arm, and walked on
+a little way.
+
+"You have advised me always to be frank, cousin," said Mary, "and I must
+and will be; so I shall tell you all, though I dare say it is not
+according to rule."
+
+"All what?" said William.
+
+"Cousin," said she, not at all regarding what he said, "I was very much
+vexed this afternoon."
+
+"So I perceived, Mary."
+
+"Well, it is vexatious," she continued, "though, after all, we cannot
+expect people to think us perfect; but I did not think it quite fair in
+you not to tell _me_."
+
+"Tell you what, Mary?"
+
+Here they came to a place where the road turned through a small patch of
+woods. It was green and shady, and enlivened by a lively chatterbox of a
+brook. There was a mossy trunk of a tree that had fallen beside it, and
+made a pretty seat. The moonlight lay in little patches upon it, as it
+streamed down through the branches of the trees. It was a fairy-looking
+place, and Mary stopped and sat down, as if to collect her thoughts.
+After picking up a stick, and playing a moment in the water, she
+began:--
+
+"After all, cousin, it was very natural in you to say so, if you thought
+so; though I should not have supposed you would think so."
+
+"Well, I should be glad if I could know what it is," said William, in a
+tone of patient resignation.
+
+"O, I forgot that I had not told you," said she, pushing back her hat,
+and speaking like one determined to go through with the thing. "Why,
+cousin, I have been told that you spoke of my manners towards yourself
+as being freer--more--obtrusive than they should be. And now," said she,
+her eyes flashing, "you see it was not a very easy thing to tell you,
+but I began with being frank, and I will be so, for the sake of
+satisfying _myself_."
+
+To this William simply replied, "Who told you this, Mary?"
+
+"My aunt."
+
+"Did she say I said it to her?"
+
+"Yes; and I do not so much object to your saying it as to your
+_thinking_ it, for you know I did not force myself on your notice; it
+was you who sought my acquaintance and won my confidence; and that you,
+above all others, should think of me in this way!"
+
+"I never did think so, Mary," said William, quietly.
+
+"Nor ever _said_ so?"
+
+"Never. I should think you might have _known_ it, Mary."
+
+"But----" said Mary.
+
+"But," said William, firmly, "Aunt Abigail is certainly mistaken."
+
+"Well, I am glad of it," said Mary, looking relieved, and gazing in the
+brook. Then looking up with warmth, "and, cousin, you never must think
+so. I am ardent, and I express myself freely; but I never meant, I am
+sure I never _should_ mean, any thing more than a sister might say."
+
+"And are you sure you never could, if all my happiness depended on it,
+Mary?"
+
+She turned and looked up in his face, and saw a look that brought
+conviction. She rose to go on, and her hand was taken and drawn into the
+arm of her cousin, and that was the end of the first and the last
+difficulty that ever arose between them.
+
+
+
+
+THE MINISTRATION OF OUR DEPARTED FRIENDS.
+
+A NEW YEAR'S REVERY.
+
+
+    "It is a beautiful belief,
+        That ever round our head
+    Are hovering on viewless wings
+        The spirits of the dead."
+
+While every year is taking one and another from the ranks of life and
+usefulness, or the charmed circle of friendship and love, it is soothing
+to remember that the spiritual world is gaining in riches through the
+poverty of this.
+
+In early life, with our friends all around us,--hearing their voices,
+cheered by their smiles,--death and the spiritual world are to us
+remote, misty, and half-fabulous; but as we advance in our journey, and
+voice after voice is hushed, and form after form vanishes from our side,
+and our shadow falls almost solitary on the hillside of life, the soul,
+by a necessity of its being, tends to the unseen and spiritual, and
+pursues in another life those it seeks in vain in this.
+
+For with every friend that dies, dies also some especial form of social
+enjoyment, whose being depended on the peculiar character of that
+friend; till, late in the afternoon of life, the pilgrim seems to
+himself to have passed over to the unseen world in successive portions
+half his own spirit; and poor indeed is he who has not familiarized
+himself with that unknown, whither, despite himself, his soul is
+earnestly tending.
+
+One of the deepest and most imperative cravings of the human heart, as
+it follows its beloved ones beyond the veil, is for some assurance that
+they still love and care for us. Could we firmly believe this,
+bereavement would lose half its bitterness. As a German writer
+beautifully expresses it, "Our friend is not wholly gone from us; we see
+across the river of death, in the blue distance, the smoke of his
+cottage;" hence the heart, always creating what it desires, has ever
+made the guardianship and ministration of departed spirits a favorite
+theme of poetic fiction.
+
+But is it, then, fiction? Does revelation, which gives so many hopes
+which nature had not, give none here? Is there no sober certainty to
+correspond to the inborn and passionate craving of the soul? Do departed
+spirits in verity retain any knowledge of what transpires in this world,
+and take any part in its scenes? All that revelation says of a spiritual
+state is more intimation than assertion; it has no distinct treatise,
+and teaches nothing apparently of set purpose; but gives vague, glorious
+images, while now and then some accidental ray of intelligence looks
+out,--
+
+    "----like eyes of cherubs shining
+      From out the veil that hid the ark."
+
+But out of all the different hints and assertions of the Bible we think
+a better inferential argument might be constructed to prove the
+ministration of departed spirits than for many a doctrine which has
+passed in its day for the height of orthodoxy.
+
+First, then, the Bible distinctly says that there is a class of
+invisible spirits who minister to the children of men: "Are they not all
+ministering spirits, sent forth to minister to those who shall be heirs
+of salvation?" It is said of little children, that "their angels do
+always behold the face of our Father which is in heaven." This last
+passage, from the words of our Savior, taken in connection with the
+well-known tradition of his time, fully recognizes the idea of
+individual guardian spirits; for God's government over mind is, it
+seems, throughout, one of intermediate agencies, and these not chosen at
+random, but with the nicest reference to their adaptation to the purpose
+intended. Not even the All-seeing, All-knowing One was deemed perfectly
+adapted to become a human Savior without a human experience. Knowledge
+intuitive, gained from above, of human wants and woes was not enough--to
+it must be added the home-born certainty of consciousness and memory;
+the Head of all mediation must become human. Is it likely, then, that,
+in selecting subordinate agencies, this so necessary a requisite of a
+human life and experience is overlooked? While around the throne of God
+stand spirits, now sainted and glorified, yet thrillingly conscious of a
+past experience of sin and sorrow, and trembling in sympathy with
+temptations and struggles like their own, is it likely that he would
+pass by these souls, thus burning for the work, and commit it to those
+bright abstract beings whose knowledge and experience are comparatively
+so distant and so cold?
+
+It is strongly in confirmation of this idea, that in the transfiguration
+scene--which seems to have been intended purposely to give the disciples
+a glimpse of the glorified state of their Master--we find him attended
+by two spirits of earth, Moses and Elias, "which appeared with him in
+glory, and spake of his death which he should accomplish at Jerusalem."
+It appears that these so long departed ones were still mingling in deep
+sympathy with the tide of human affairs--not only aware of the present,
+but also informed as to the future. In coincidence with this idea are
+all those passages which speak of the redeemed of earth as being closely
+and indissolubly identified with Christ, members of his body, of his
+flesh and his bones. It is not to be supposed that those united to Jesus
+above all others by so vivid a sympathy and community of interests are
+left out as instruments in that great work of human regeneration which
+so engrosses him; and when we hear Christians spoken of as kings and
+priests unto God, as those who shall judge angels, we see it more than
+intimated that they are to be the partners and actors in that great work
+of spiritual regeneration of which Jesus is the head.
+
+What then? May we look among the band of ministering spirits for our own
+departed ones? Whom would God be more likely to send us? Have we in
+heaven a friend who knew us to the heart's core? a friend to whom we
+have unfolded our soul in its most secret recesses? to whom we have
+confessed our weaknesses and deplored our griefs? If we are to have a
+ministering spirit, who better adapted? Have we not memories which
+correspond to such a belief? When our soul has been cast down, has never
+an invisible voice whispered, "There is lifting up"? Have not gales and
+breezes of sweet and healing thought been wafted over us, as if an angel
+had shaken from his wings the odors of paradise? Many a one, we are
+confident, can remember such things--and whence come they? Why do the
+children of the pious mother, whose grave has grown green and smooth
+with years, seem often to walk through perils and dangers fearful and
+imminent as the crossing Mohammed's fiery gulf on the edge of a drawn
+sword, yet walk unhurt? Ah! could we see that attendant form, that face
+where the angel conceals not the mother, our question would be answered.
+
+It may be possible that a friend is sometimes taken because the Divine
+One sees that his ministry can act more powerfully from the unseen world
+than amid the infirmities of mortal intercourse. Here the soul,
+distracted and hemmed in by human events and by bodily infirmities,
+often scarce knows itself, and makes no impression on others
+correspondent to its desires. The mother would fain electrify the heart
+of her child; she yearns and burns in vain to make her soul effective on
+its soul, and to inspire it with a spiritual and holy life; but all her
+own weaknesses, faults, and mortal cares cramp and confine her, till
+death breaks all fetters; and then, first truly alive, risen, purified,
+and at rest, she may do calmly, sweetly, and certainly, what, amid the
+tempests and tossings of life, she labored for painfully and fitfully.
+So, also, to generous souls, who burn for the good of man, who deplore
+the shortness of life, and the little that is permitted to any
+individual agency on earth, does this belief open a heavenly field.
+Think not, father or brother, long laboring for man, till thy sun stands
+on the western mountains,--think not that thy day in this world is over.
+Perhaps, like Jesus, thou hast lived a human life, and gained a human
+experience, to become, under and like him, a savior of thousands; thou
+hast been through the preparation, but thy real work of good, thy full
+power of doing, is yet to begin.
+
+But again: there are some spirits (and those of earth's choicest) to
+whom, so far as enjoyment to themselves or others is concerned, this
+life seems to have been a total failure. A hard hand from the first, and
+all the way through life, seems to have been laid upon them; they seem
+to live only to be chastened and crushed, and we lay them in the grave
+at last in mournful silence. To such, what a vision is opened by this
+belief! This hard discipline has been the school and task-work by which
+their soul has been fitted for their invisible labors in a future life;
+and when they pass the gates of the grave, their course of benevolent
+acting first begins, and they find themselves delighted possessors of
+what through many years they have sighed for--the power of doing good.
+The year just past, like all other years, has taken from a thousand
+circles the sainted, the just, and the beloved; there are spots in a
+thousand graveyards which have become this year dearer than all the
+living world; but in the loneliness of sorrow how cheering to think that
+our lost ones are not wholly gone from us! They still may move about in
+our homes, shedding around an atmosphere of purity and peace, promptings
+of good, and reproofs of evil. We are compassed about by a cloud of
+witnesses, whose hearts throb in sympathy with every effort and
+struggle, and who thrill with joy at every success. How should this
+thought check and rebuke every worldly feeling and unworthy purpose, and
+enshrine us, in the midst of a forgetful and unspiritual world, with an
+atmosphere of heavenly peace! They have overcome--have risen--are
+crowned, glorified; but still they remain to us, our assistants, our
+comforters, and in every hour of darkness their voice speaks to us: "So
+we grieved, so we struggled, so we fainted, so we doubted; but we have
+overcome, we have obtained, we have seen, we have found--and in our
+victory behold the certainty of thy own."
+
+
+
+
+MRS. A. AND MRS. B.;
+
+OR, WHAT SHE THINKS ABOUT IT.
+
+
+Mrs. A. and Mrs. B. were next-door neighbors and intimate friends--that
+is to say, they took tea with each other very often, and, in
+confidential strains, discoursed of stockings and pocket handkerchiefs,
+of puddings and carpets, of cookery and domestic economy, through all
+its branches.
+
+"I think, on the whole," said Mrs. A., with an air of profound
+reflection, "that gingerbread is the cheapest and healthiest cake one
+can make. I make a good deal of it, and let my children have as much as
+they want of it."
+
+"I used to do so," said Mrs. B., "but I haven't had any made these two
+months."
+
+"Ah! Why not?" said Mrs. A.
+
+"Why, it is some trouble; and then, though it is cheap, it is cheaper
+not to have any; and, on the whole, the children are quite as well
+contented without it, and so we are fallen into the way of not having
+any."
+
+"But one must keep some kind of cake in the house," said Mrs. A.
+
+"So I have always heard, and thought, and practised," said Mrs. B.; "but
+really of late I have questioned the need of it."
+
+The conversation gradually digressed from this point into various
+intricate speculations on domestic economy, and at last each lady went
+home to put her children to bed.
+
+A fortnight after, the two ladies were again in conclave at Mrs. B.'s
+tea table, which was graced by some unusually nice gingerbread.
+
+"I thought you had given up making gingerbread," said Mrs. A.; "you told
+me so a fortnight ago at my house."
+
+"So I had," said Mrs. A.; "but since that conversation I have been
+making it again."
+
+"Why so?"
+
+"O, I thought that since you thought it economical enough, certainly I
+might; and that if you thought it necessary to keep some sort of cake in
+the closet, perhaps it was best I should."
+
+Mrs. A. laughed.
+
+"Well, now," said she, "I have _not_ made any gingerbread, or cake of
+any kind, since that same conversation."
+
+"Indeed?"
+
+"No. I said to myself, If Mrs. B. thinks it will do to go without cake
+in the house, I suppose I might, as she says it _is_ some additional
+expense and trouble; and so I gave it up."
+
+Both ladies laughed, and you laugh, too, my dear lady reader; but have
+you never done the same thing? Have you never altered your dress, or
+your arrangements, or your housekeeping because somebody else was of a
+different way of thinking or managing--and may not that very somebody at
+the same time have been moved to make some change through a similar
+observation on you?
+
+A large party is to be given by the young lads of N. to the young
+lassies of the same place; they are to drive out together to a picnic in
+the woods, and to come home by moonlight; the weather is damp and
+uncertain, the ground chill, and young people, as in all ages before the
+flood and since, not famous for the grace of prudence; for all which
+reasons, almost every mamma hesitates about her daughters' going--thinks
+it a very great pity the thing has been started.
+
+"I really don't like this thing," says Mrs. G.; "it's not a kind of
+thing that I approve of, and if Mrs. X. was not going to let her
+daughters go, I should set myself against it. How Mrs. X., who is so
+very nice in her notions, can sanction such a thing, I cannot see. I am
+really surprised at Mrs. X."
+
+All this time, poor unconscious Mrs. X. is in a similar tribulation.
+
+"This is a very disagreeable affair to me," she says. "I really have
+almost a mind to say that my girls shall not go; but Mrs. G.'s daughters
+are going, and Mrs. C.'s, and Mrs. W.'s, and of course it would be idle
+for me to oppose it. I should not like to cast any reflections on a
+course sanctioned by ladies of such prudence and discretion."
+
+In the same manner Mrs. A., B., and C., and the good matrons through the
+alphabet generally, with doleful lamentations, each one consents to the
+thing that she allows not, and the affair proceeds swimmingly to the
+great satisfaction of the juveniles.
+
+Now and then, it is true, some individual sort of body, who might be
+designated by the angular and decided letters K or L, says to her son or
+daughter, "No. I don't approve of the thing," and is deaf to the
+oft-urged, "Mrs. A., B., and C. do so."
+
+"I have nothing to do with Mrs. A., B., and C.'s arrangements," says
+this impracticable Mrs. K. or L. "I only know what is best for my
+children, and they shall not go."
+
+Again: Mrs. G. is going to give a party; and, now, shall she give wine,
+or not? Mrs. G. has heard an abundance of temperance speeches and
+appeals, heard the duties of ladies in the matter of sanctioning
+temperance movements aptly set forth, but "none of these things move her
+half so much as another consideration." She has heard that Mrs. D.
+introduced wine into her last _soirée_. Mrs. D's husband has been a
+leading orator of the temperance society, and Mrs. D. is no less a
+leading member in the circles of fashion. Now, Mrs. G.'s soul is in
+great perplexity. If she only could be sure that the report about Mrs.
+D. is authentic, why, then, of course the thing is settled; regret it as
+much as she may, she cannot get through her party without the wine; and
+so at last come the party and the wine. Mrs. D., who was incorrectly
+stated to have had the article at her last _soirée_, has it at her next
+one, and quotes discreet Mrs. G. as her precedent. Mrs. P. is greatly
+scandalized at this, because Mrs. G. is a member of the church, and Mr.
+D. a leading temperance orator; but since _they will do it_, it is not
+for her to be nice, and so she follows the fashion.
+
+Mrs. N. comes home from church on Sunday, rolling up her eyes with
+various appearances of horror and surprise.
+
+"Well! I am going to give up trying to restrain my girls from dressing
+extravagantly; it's of no use trying!--no use in the world."
+
+"Why, mother, what's the matter?" exclaimed the girls aforesaid,
+delighted to hear such encouraging declarations.
+
+"Why, didn't you see Mrs. K.'s daughters sitting in the pew before us
+with _feathers_ in their bonnets? If Mrs. K. is coming out in this way,
+_I_ shall give up. I shan't try any longer. I am going to get just what
+I want, and dress as much as I've a mind to. Girls, you may get those
+visites that you were looking at at Mr. B.'s store last week!"
+
+The next Sunday, Mrs. K.'s girls in turn begin:--
+
+"There, mamma, you are always lecturing us about economy, and all that,
+and wanting us to wear our old mantillas another winter, and there are
+Mrs. N.'s girls shining out in new visites."
+
+Mamma looks sensible and judicious, and tells the girls they ought not
+to see what people are wearing in church on Sundays; but it becomes
+evident, before the week is through, that she has not forgotten the
+observation. She is anxiously pricing visites, and looking thoughtful as
+one on the eve of an important determination; and the next Sunday the
+girls appear in full splendor, with new visites, to the increasing
+horror of Mrs. N.
+
+So goes the shuttlecock back and forward, kept up on both sides by most
+judicious hands.
+
+In like manner, at a modern party, a circle of matrons sit in edifying
+conclave, and lament the degeneracy of the age.
+
+"These parties that begin at nine o'clock and end at two or three in the
+morning are shameful things," says fat Mrs. Q., complacently fanning
+herself. (N. B. Mrs. Q. is plotting to have one the very next week, and
+has come just to see the fashions.)
+
+"O, dreadful, dreadful!" exclaim, in one chorus, meek Mrs. M., and tall
+Mrs. F., and stiff Mrs. J.
+
+"They are very unhealthy," says Mrs. F.
+
+"They disturb all family order," says Mrs. J.
+
+"They make one so sleepy the next day," says Mrs. M.
+
+"They are very laborious to get up, and entirely useless," says Mrs. Q.;
+at the same time counting across the room the people that she shall
+invite next week.
+
+Mrs. M. and Mrs. F. diverge into a most edifying strain of moral
+reflections on the improvement of time, the necessity of sobriety and
+moderation, the evils of conformity to the world, till one is tempted to
+feel that the tract society ought to have their remarks for general
+circulation, were one not damped by the certain knowledge that before
+the winter is out each of these ladies will give exactly such another
+party.
+
+And, now, are all these respectable ladies hypocritical or insincere? By
+no means--they believe every word they say; but a sort of necessity is
+laid upon them--a spell; and before the breath of the multitude their
+individual resolution melts away as the frosty tracery melts from the
+window panes of a crowded room.
+
+A great many do this habitually, resignedly, as a matter of course. Ask
+them what they think to be right and proper, and they will tell you
+sensibly, coherently, and quite to the point in one direction; ask them
+what they are going to do. Ah! that is quite another matter.
+
+They are going to do what is generally done--what Mrs. A., B., and C.
+do. They have long since made over their conscience to the keeping of
+the public,--that is to say, of good society,--and are thus rid of a
+troublesome burden of responsibility.
+
+Again, there are others who mean in general to have an opinion and will
+of their own; but, imperceptibly, as one and another take a course
+opposed to their own sense of right and propriety, their resolution
+quietly melts, and melts, till every individual outline of it is gone,
+and they do as others do.
+
+Yet is this influence of one human being over another--in some sense,
+God-appointed--a necessary result of the human constitution. There is
+scarcely a human being that is not varied and swerved by it, as the
+trembling needle is swerved by the approaching magnet. Oppose conflict
+with it, as one may at a distance, yet when it breathes on us through
+the breath, and shines on us through the eye of an associate, it
+possesses an invisible magnetic power. He who is not at all conscious of
+such impressibility can scarce be amiable or human. Nevertheless, one of
+the most important habits for the acquisition of a generous and noble
+character, is to learn to act _individually_, unswerved by the feelings
+and opinions of others. It may help us to do this, to reflect that the
+very person whose opinion we fear may be in equal dread of ours, and
+that the person to whom we are looking for a precedent may, at that very
+time, be looking to us.
+
+In short, Mrs. A., if you think that you could spend your money more
+like a Christian than in laying it out on a fashionable party, go
+forward and do it, and twenty others, whose supposed opinion you fear,
+will be glad of your example for a precedent. And, Mrs. B., if you do
+think it would be better for your children to observe early hours, and
+form simple habits, than to dress and dance, and give and go to juvenile
+balls, carry out your opinion in practice, and many an anxious mother,
+who is of the same opinion, will quote your example as her shield and
+defence.
+
+And for you, young ladies, let us pray you to reflect--_individuality of
+character_, maintained with womanly sweetness, is an irresistible grace
+and adornment. Have some principles of taste for yourself, and do not
+adopt every fashion of dress that is in vogue, whether it suits you or
+not--whether it is becoming or not--but, without a startling variation
+from general form, let your dress show something of your own taste and
+opinions. Have some principles of right and wrong for yourself, and do
+not do every thing that every one else does, _because_ every one else
+does it.
+
+Nothing is more tedious than a circle of young ladies who have got by
+rote a certain set of phrases and opinions--all admiring in the same
+terms the same things, and detesting in like terms certain others--with
+anxious solicitude each dressing, thinking, and acting, one as much like
+another as is possible. A genuine original opinion, even though it were
+so heretical as to assert that Jenny Lind is a little lower than the
+angels, or that Shakspeare is rather dull reading, would be better than
+such a universal Dead Sea of acquiescence.
+
+These remarks have borne reference to the female sex principally,
+because they are the dependent, the acquiescent sex--from nature, and
+habit, and position, most exposed to be swayed by opinion--and yet, too,
+in a certain very wide department they are the lawgivers and
+custom-makers of society. If, amid the multiplied schools, whose
+advertisements now throng our papers, purporting to teach girls every
+thing, both ancient and modern, high and low, from playing on the harp
+and working pincushions, up to civil engineering, surveying, and
+navigation, there were any which could teach them to be women--to have
+thoughts, opinions, and modes of action of their own--such a school
+would be worth having. If one half of the good purposes which are in the
+hearts of the ladies of our nation were only acted out without fear of
+any body's opinion, we should certainly be a step nearer the millennium.
+
+
+
+
+CHRISTMAS; OR, THE GOOD FAIRY.
+
+
+"O, dear! Christmas is coming in a fortnight, and I have got to think up
+presents for every body!" said young Ellen Stuart, as she leaned
+languidly back in her chair. "Dear me, it's so tedious! Every body has
+got every thing that can be thought of."
+
+"O, no," said her confidential adviser, Miss Lester, in a soothing tone.
+"You have means of buying every thing you can fancy; and when every shop
+and store is glittering with all manner of splendors, you cannot surely
+be at a loss."
+
+"Well, now, just listen. To begin with, there's mamma. What can I get
+for her? I have thought of ever so many things. She has three card
+cases, four gold thimbles, two or three gold chains, two writing desks
+of different patterns; and then as to rings, brooches, boxes, and all
+other things, I should think she might be sick of the sight of them. I
+am sure I am," said she, languidly gazing on her white and jewelled
+fingers.
+
+This view of the case seemed rather puzzling to the adviser, and there
+was silence for a few moments, when Ellen, yawning, resumed:--
+
+"And then there's Cousins Jane and Mary; I suppose they will be coming
+down on me with a whole load of presents; and Mrs. B. will send me
+something--she did last year; and then there's Cousins William and
+Tom--I must get them something; and I would like to do it well enough,
+if I only knew what to get."
+
+"Well," said Eleanor's aunt, who had been sitting quietly rattling her
+knitting needles during this speech, "it's a pity that you had not such
+a subject to practise on as I was when I was a girl. Presents did not
+fly about in those days as they do now. I remember, when I was ten years
+old, my father gave me a most marvellously ugly sugar dog for a
+Christmas gift, and I was perfectly delighted with it, the very idea of
+a present was so new to us."
+
+"Dear aunt, how delighted I should be if I had any such fresh,
+unsophisticated body to get presents for! But to get and get for people
+that have more than they know what to do with now; to add pictures,
+books, and gilding when the centre tables are loaded with them now, and
+rings and jewels when they are a perfect drug! I wish myself that I were
+not sick, and sated, and tired with having every thing in the world
+given me."
+
+"Well, Eleanor," said her aunt, "if you really do want unsophisticated
+subjects to practise on, I can put you in the way of it. I can show you
+more than one family to whom you might seem to be a very good fairy, and
+where such gifts as you could give with all ease would seem like a magic
+dream."
+
+"Why, that would really be worth while, aunt."
+
+"Look over in that back alley," said her aunt. "You see those
+buildings?"
+
+"That miserable row of shanties? Yes."
+
+"Well, I have several acquaintances there who have never been tired of
+Christmas gifts, or gifts of any other kind. I assure you, you could
+make quite a sensation over there."
+
+"Well, who is there? Let us know."
+
+"Do you remember Owen, that used to make your shoes?"
+
+"Yes, I remember something about him."
+
+"Well, he has fallen into a consumption, and cannot work any more; and
+he, and his wife, and three little children live in one of the rooms."
+
+"How do they get along?"
+
+"His wife takes in sewing sometimes, and sometimes goes out washing.
+Poor Owen! I was over there yesterday; he looks thin and wasted, and his
+wife was saying that he was parched with constant fever, and had very
+little appetite. She had, with great self-denial, and by restricting
+herself almost of necessary food, got him two or three oranges; and the
+poor fellow seemed so eager after them!"
+
+"Poor fellow!" said Eleanor, involuntarily.
+
+"Now," said her aunt, "suppose Owen's wife should get up on Christmas
+morning and find at the door a couple of dozen of oranges, and some of
+those nice white grapes, such as you had at your party last week; don't
+you think it would make a sensation?"
+
+"Why, yes, I think very likely it might; but who else, aunt? You spoke
+of a great many."
+
+"Well, on the lower floor there is a neat little room, that is always
+kept perfectly trim and tidy; it belongs to a young couple who have
+nothing beyond the husband's day wages to live on. They are,
+nevertheless, as cheerful and chipper as a couple of wrens; and she is
+up and down half a dozen times a day, to help poor Mrs. Owen. She has a
+baby of her own, about five months old, and of course does all the
+cooking, washing, and ironing for herself and husband; and yet, when
+Mrs. Owen goes out to wash, she takes her baby, and keeps it whole days
+for her."
+
+"I'm sure she deserves that the good fairies should smile on her," said
+Eleanor; "one baby exhausts my stock of virtues very rapidly."
+
+"But you ought to see her baby," said Aunt E.; "so plump, so rosy, and
+good-natured, and always clean as a lily. This baby is a sort of
+household shrine; nothing is too sacred or too good for it; and I
+believe the little thrifty woman feels only one temptation to be
+extravagant, and that is to get some ornaments to adorn this little
+divinity."
+
+"Why, did she ever tell you so?"
+
+"No; but one day, when I was coming down stairs, the door of their room
+was partly open, and I saw a pedler there with open box. John, the
+husband, was standing with a little purple cap on his hand, which he was
+regarding with mystified, admiring air, as if he didn't quite comprehend
+it, and trim little Mary gazing at it with longing eyes.
+
+"'I think we might get it,' said John.
+
+"'O, no,' said she, regretfully; 'yet I wish we could, it's _so
+pretty_!'"
+
+"Say no more, aunt. I see the good fairy must pop a cap into the window
+on Christmas morning. Indeed, it shall be done. How they will wonder
+where it came from, and talk about it for months to come!"
+
+"Well, then," continued her aunt, "in the next street to ours there is a
+miserable building, that looks as if it were just going to topple over;
+and away up in the third story, in a little room just under the eaves,
+live two poor, lonely old women. They are both nearly on to ninety. I
+was in there day before yesterday. One of them is constantly confined to
+her bed with rheumatism; the other, weak and feeble, with failing sight
+and trembling hands, totters about, her only helper; and they are
+entirely dependent on charity."
+
+"Can't they do any thing? Can't they knit?" said Eleanor.
+
+"You are young and strong, Eleanor, and have quick eyes and nimble
+fingers; how long would it take you to knit a pair of stockings?"
+
+"I?" said Eleanor. "What an idea! I never tried, but I think I could get
+a pair done in a week, perhaps."
+
+"And if somebody gave you twenty-five cents for them, and out of this
+you had to get food, and pay room rent, and buy coal for your fire, and
+oil for your lamp----"
+
+"Stop, aunt, for pity's sake!"
+
+"Well, I will stop; but they can't: they must pay so much every month
+for that miserable shell they live in, or be turned into the street. The
+meal and flour that some kind person sends goes off for them just as it
+does for others, and they must get more or starve; and coal is now
+scarce and high priced."
+
+"O aunt, I'm quite convinced, I'm sure; don't run me down and annihilate
+me with all these terrible realities. What shall I do to play good fairy
+to these poor old women?"
+
+"If you will give me full power, Eleanor, I will put up a basket to be
+sent to them that will give them something to remember all winter."
+
+"O, certainly I will. Let me see if I can't think of something myself."
+
+"Well, Eleanor, suppose, then, some fifty or sixty years hence, _if_ you
+were old, and your father, and mother, and aunts, and uncles, now so
+thick around you, lay cold and silent in so many graves--you have
+somehow got away off to a strange city, where you were never known--you
+live in a miserable garret, where snow blows at night through the
+cracks, and the fire is very apt to go out in the old cracked stove--you
+sit crouching over the dying embers the evening before Christmas--nobody
+to speak to you, nobody to care for you, except another poor old soul
+who lies moaning in the bed. Now, what would you like to have sent you?"
+
+"O aunt, what a dismal picture!"
+
+"And yet, Ella, all poor, forsaken old women are made of young girls,
+who expected it in their youth as little as you do, perhaps."
+
+"Say no more, aunt. I'll buy--let me see--a comfortable warm shawl for
+each of these poor women; and I'll send them--let me see--O, some
+tea--nothing goes down with old women like tea; and I'll make John wheel
+some coal over to them; and, aunt, it would not be a very bad thought to
+send them a new stove. I remember, the other day, when mamma was pricing
+stoves, I saw some such nice ones for two or three dollars."
+
+"For a new hand, Ella, you work up the idea very well," said her aunt.
+
+"But how much ought I to give, for any one case, to these women, say?"
+
+"How much did you give last year for any single Christmas present?"
+
+"Why, six or seven dollars for some; those elegant souvenirs were seven
+dollars; that ring I gave Mrs. B. was twenty."
+
+"And do you suppose Mrs. B. was any happier for it?"
+
+"No, really, I don't think she cared much about it; but I had to give
+her something, because she had sent me something the year before, and I
+did not want to send a paltry present to one in her circumstances."
+
+"Then, Ella, give the same to any poor, distressed, suffering creature
+who really needs it, and see in how many forms of good such a sum will
+appear. That one hard, cold, glittering ring, that now cheers nobody,
+and means nothing, that you give because you must, and she takes because
+she must, might, if broken up into smaller sums, send real warm and
+heartfelt gladness through many a cold and cheerless dwelling, through
+many an aching heart."
+
+"You are getting to be an orator, aunt; but don't you approve of
+Christmas presents, among friends and equals?"
+
+"Yes, indeed," said her aunt, fondly stroking her head. "I have had some
+Christmas presents that did me a world of good--a little book mark, for
+instance, that a certain niece of mine worked for me, with wonderful
+secrecy, three years ago, when she was not a young lady with a purse
+full of money--that book mark was a true Christmas present; and my young
+couple across the way are plotting a profound surprise to each other on
+Christmas morning. John has contrived, by an hour of extra work every
+night, to lay by enough to get Mary a new calico dress; and she, poor
+soul, has bargained away the only thing in the jewelry line she ever
+possessed, to be laid out on a new hat for him.
+
+"I know, too, a washerwoman who has a poor, lame boy--a patient, gentle
+little fellow--who has lain quietly for weeks and months in his little
+crib, and his mother is going to give him a splendid Christmas present."
+
+"What is it, pray?"
+
+"A whole orange! Don't laugh. She will pay ten whole cents for it; for
+it shall be none of your common oranges, but a picked one of the very
+best going! She has put by the money, a cent at a time, for a whole
+month; and nobody knows which will be happiest in it, Willie or his
+mother. These are such Christmas presents as I like to think of--gifts
+coming from love, and tending to produce love; these are the appropriate
+gifts of the day."
+
+"But don't you think that it's right for those who _have_ money to give
+expensive presents, supposing always, as you say, they are given from
+real affection?"
+
+"Sometimes, undoubtedly. The Savior did not condemn her who broke an
+alabaster box of ointment--_very precious_--simply as a proof of love,
+even although the suggestion was made, 'This might have been sold for
+three hundred pence, and given to the poor.' I have thought he would
+regard with sympathy the fond efforts which human love sometimes makes
+to express itself by gifts, the rarest and most costly. How I rejoiced
+with all my heart, when Charles Elton gave his poor mother that splendid
+Chinese shawl and gold watch! because I knew they came from the very
+fulness of his heart to a mother that he could not do too much for--a
+mother that has done and suffered every thing for him. In some such
+cases, when resources are ample, a costly gift seems to have a graceful
+appropriateness; but I cannot approve of it if it exhausts all the means
+of doing for the poor; it is better, then, to give a simple offering,
+and to do something for those who really need it."
+
+Eleanor looked thoughtful; her aunt laid down her knitting, and said, in
+a tone of gentle seriousness, "Whose birth does Christmas commemorate,
+Ella?"
+
+"Our Savior's, certainly, aunt."
+
+"Yes," said her aunt. "And when and how was he born? In a stable! laid
+in a manger; thus born, that in all ages he might be known as the
+brother and friend of the poor. And surely, it seems but appropriate to
+commemorate his birthday by an especial remembrance of the lowly, the
+poor, the outcast, and distressed; and if Christ should come back to our
+city on a Christmas day, where should we think it most appropriate to
+his character to find him? Would he be carrying splendid gifts to
+splendid dwellings, or would he be gliding about in the cheerless haunts
+of the desolate, the poor, the forsaken, and the sorrowful?"
+
+And here the conversation ended.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"What sort of Christmas presents is Ella buying?" said Cousin Tom, as
+the waiter handed in a portentous-looking package, which had been just
+rung in at the door.
+
+"Let's open it," said saucy Will. "Upon my word, two great gray blanket
+shawls! These must be for you and me, Tom! And what's this? A great bolt
+of cotton flannel and gray yarn stockings!"
+
+The door bell rang again, and the waiter brought in another bulky
+parcel, and deposited it on the marble-topped centre table.
+
+"What's here?" said Will, cutting the cord. "Whew! a perfect nest of
+packages! oolong tea! oranges! grapes! white sugar! Bless me, Ella must
+be going to housekeeping!"
+
+"Or going crazy!" said Tom; "and on my word," said he, looking out of
+the window, "there's a drayman ringing at our door, with a stove, with a
+teakettle set in the top of it!"
+
+"Ella's cook stove, of course," said Will; and just at this moment the
+young lady entered, with her purse hanging gracefully over her hand.
+
+"Now, boys, you are too bad!" she exclaimed, as each of the mischievous
+youngsters were gravely marching up and down, attired in a gray shawl.
+
+"Didn't you get them for us? We thought you did," said both.
+
+"Ella, I want some of that cotton flannel, to make me a pair of
+pantaloons," said Tom.
+
+"I say, Ella," said Will, "when are you going to housekeeping? Your
+cooking stove is standing down in the street; 'pon my word, John is
+loading some coal on the dray with it."
+
+"Ella, isn't that going to be sent to my office?" said Tom; "do you know
+I do so languish for a new stove with a teakettle in the top, to heat a
+fellow's shaving water!"
+
+Just then, another ring at the door, and the grinning waiter handed in a
+small brown paper parcel for Miss Ella. Tom made a dive at it, and
+staving off the brown paper, developed a jaunty little purple velvet
+cap, with silver tassels.
+
+"My smoking cap, as I live!" said he; "only I shall have to wear it on
+my thumb, instead of my head--too small entirely," said he, shaking his
+head gravely.
+
+"Come, you saucy boys," said Aunt E., entering briskly, "what are you
+teasing Ella for?"
+
+"Why, do see this lot of things, aunt! What in the world is Ella going
+to do with them?"
+
+"O, I know!"
+
+"You know! Then I can guess, aunt, it is some of your charitable works.
+You are going to make a juvenile Lady Bountiful of El, eh?"
+
+Ella, who had colored to the roots of her hair at the _exposé_ of her
+very unfashionable Christmas preparations, now took heart, and bestowed
+a very gentle and salutary little cuff on the saucy head that still wore
+the purple cap, and then hastened to gather up her various purchases.
+
+"Laugh away," said she, gayly; "and a good many others will laugh, too,
+over these things. I got them to make people laugh--people that are not
+in the habit of laughing!"
+
+"Well, well, I see into it," said Will; "and I tell you I think right
+well of the idea, too. There are worlds of money wasted, at this time of
+the year, in getting things that nobody wants, and nobody cares for
+after they are got; and I am glad, for my part, that you are going to
+get up a variety in this line; in fact, I should like to give you one of
+these stray leaves to help on," said he, dropping a ten dollar note into
+her paper. "I like to encourage girls to think of something besides
+breastpins and sugar candy."
+
+But our story spins on too long. If any body wants to see the results of
+Ella's first attempts at _good fairyism_, they can call at the doors of
+two or three old buildings on Christmas morning, and they shall hear all
+about it.
+
+
+
+
+EARTHLY CARE A HEAVENLY DISCIPLINE.
+
+
+    "Why should these cares my heart divide,
+      If Thou, indeed, hast set me free?
+    Why am I thus, if Thou hast died--
+      If Thou hast died to ransom me?"
+
+Nothing is more frequently felt and spoken of, as a hinderance to the
+inward life of devotion, than the "cares of life;" and even upon the
+showing of our Lord himself, the cares of the world are the _thorns_
+that choke the word, and it becometh unfruitful.
+
+And yet, if this is a necessary and inevitable result of worldly care,
+why does the providence of God so order things that it forms so large
+and unavoidable a part of every human experience? Why is the physical
+system of man arranged with such daily, oft-recurring wants? Why does
+his nature, in its full development, tend to that state of society in
+which wants multiply, and the business of supply becomes more
+complicated, and requiring constantly more thought and attention, and
+bringing the outward and seen into a state of constant friction and
+pressure on the inner and spiritual?
+
+Has God arranged an outward system to be a constant diversion from the
+inward--a weight on its wheels--a burden on its wings--and then
+commanded a strict and rigid inwardness and spirituality? Why placed us
+where the things that are seen and temporal must unavoidably have so
+much of our thoughts, and time, and care, yet said to us, "Set your
+affections on things above, and not on things on the earth. Love not the
+world, neither the things of the world"? And why does one of our
+brightest examples of Christian experience, as it should be, say, "While
+we look not on the things which are seen, but on the things which are
+not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things
+that are not seen are eternal"?
+
+The Bible tells us that our whole existence here is a disciplinary one;
+that this whole physical system, by which our spirit is enclosed with
+all the joys and sorrows, hopes and fears, and wants which form a part
+of it, are designed as an education to fit the soul for its immortality;
+and as worldly care forms the greater part of the staple of every human
+life, there must be some mode of viewing and meeting it, which converts
+it from an enemy of spirituality into a means of grace and spiritual
+advancement.
+
+Why, then, do we so often hear the lamentation, "It seems to me as if I
+could advance to the higher stages of Christian life, if it were not for
+the pressure of my business and the multitude of my worldly cares"? Is
+it not God, O Christian, who, in ordering thy lot, has laid these cares
+upon thee, and who still holds them about thee, and permits no escape
+from them? And as his great, undivided object is thy spiritual
+improvement, is there not some misapprehension or wrong use of these
+cares, if they do not tend to advance it? Is it not even as if a scholar
+should say, I could advance in science were it not for all the time and
+care which lessons, and books, and lectures require?
+
+How, then, shall earthly care become heavenly discipline? How shall the
+disposition of the weight be altered so as to press the spirit upward
+towards God, instead of downward and away? How shall the pillar of cloud
+which rises between us and him become one of fire, to reflect upon us
+constantly the light of his countenance, and to guide us over the sands
+of life's desert?
+
+It appears to us that the great radical difficulty is an intellectual
+one, and lies in a wrong belief. There is not a genuine and real belief
+of the presence and agency of God in the minor events and details of
+life, which is necessary to change them from secular cares into
+spiritual blessings.
+
+It is true there is much loose talk about an overruling Providence; and
+yet, if fairly stated, the belief of a great many Christians might be
+thus expressed: God has organized and set in operation certain general
+laws of matter and mind, which work out the particular results of life,
+and over these laws he exercises a general supervision and care, so that
+all the great affairs of the world are carried on after the counsel of
+his own will; and in a certain general sense, all things are working
+together for good to those that love God. But when some simple-minded,
+childlike Christian really proceeds to refer all the smaller events of
+life to God's immediate care and agency, there is a smile of
+incredulity, and it is thought that the good brother displays more
+Christian feeling than sound philosophy.
+
+But as life for every individual is made up of fractions and minute
+atoms--as those things which go to affect habits and character are small
+and hourly recurring, it comes to pass that a belief in Providence so
+very wide and general, is altogether inefficient for consecrating and
+rendering sacred the great body of what comes in contact with the mind
+in the experience of life. Only once in years does the Christian with
+this kind of belief hear the voice of the Lord God speaking to him. When
+the hand of death is laid on his child, or the bolt strikes down the
+brother by his side, _then_, indeed, he feels that God is drawing near;
+he listens humbly for the inward voice that shall explain the meaning
+and need of this discipline. When by some unforeseen occurrence the
+whole of his earthly property is swept away,--he becomes a poor
+man,--this event, in his eyes, assumes sufficient magnitude to have come
+from God, and to have a design and meaning; but when smaller comforts
+are removed, smaller losses are encountered, and the petty, every-day
+vexations and annoyances of life press about him, he recognizes no God,
+and hears no voice, and sees no design. Hence John Newton says, "Many
+Christians, who bear the loss of a child, or the destruction of all
+their property, with the most heroic Christian fortitude, are entirely
+vanquished and overcome by the breaking of a dish, or the blunders of a
+servant, and show so unchristian a spirit, that we cannot but wonder at
+them."
+
+So when the breath of slander, or the pressure of human injustice, comes
+so heavily on a man as really to threaten loss of character, and
+destruction of his temporal interests, he seems forced to recognize the
+hand and voice of God, through the veil of human agencies, and in
+time-honored words to say,--
+
+    "When men of spite against me join,
+    They are the _sword_; the hand is thine."
+
+But the smaller injustice and fault-finding which meet every one more or
+less in the daily intercourse of life, the overheard remark, the implied
+censure, too petty, perhaps, to be even spoken of, these daily recurring
+sources of disquietude and unhappiness are not referred to God's
+providence, nor considered as a part of his probation and discipline.
+Those thousand vexations which come upon us through the
+unreasonableness, the carelessness, the various constitutional failings,
+or ill-adaptedness of others to our peculiarities of character, form a
+very large item of the disquietudes of life; and yet how very few look
+beyond the human agent, and feel these are trials coming from God! Yet
+it is true, in many cases, that these so called minor vexations form the
+greater part, and in many cases the only discipline of _life_; and to
+those that do not view them as ordered individually by God, and coming
+upon them by specified design, "their affliction 'really' cometh of the
+dust, and their trouble springs out of the ground;" it is sanctified and
+relieved by no divine presence and aid, but borne alone and in a mere
+human spirit, and by mere human reliances, it acts on the mind as a
+constant diversion and hinderance, instead of a moral discipline.
+
+Hence, too, come a coldness, and generality, and wandering of mind in
+prayer: the things that are on the heart, that are distracting the mind,
+that have filled the soul so full that there is no room for any thing
+else, are all considered too small and undignified to come within the
+pale of a prayer, and so, with a wandering mind and a distracted heart,
+the Christian offers up his prayer for things which he thinks he _ought_
+to want, and makes no mention of those which he _does_. He prays that
+God would pour out his spirit on the heathen, and convert the world, and
+build up his kingdom every where, when perhaps a whole set of little
+anxieties, and wants, and vexations are so distracting his thoughts,
+that he hardly knows what he has been saying: a faithless servant is
+wasting his property; a careless or blundering workman has spoiled a lot
+of goods; a child is vexatious or unruly; a friend has made promises and
+failed to keep them; an acquaintance has made unjust or satirical
+remarks; some new furniture has been damaged or ruined by carelessness
+in the household; but all this trouble forms no subject matter for
+prayer, though there it is, all the while lying like lead on the heart,
+and keeping it down, so that it has no power to expand and take in any
+thing else. But were God known and regarded as the soul's familiar
+friend, were every trouble of the heart as it rises, breathed into his
+bosom; were it felt that there is not one of the smallest of life's
+troubles that has not been permitted by him, and permitted for specific
+good purpose to the soul, how much more would these be in prayer! how
+constant, how daily might it become! how it might settle and clear the
+atmosphere of the soul! how it might so dispose and lay away many
+anxieties which now take up their place there, that there might be
+_room_ for the higher themes and considerations of religion!
+
+Many sensitive and fastidious natures are worn away by the constant
+friction of what are called _little troubles_. Without any great
+affliction, they feel that all the flower and sweetness of their life
+have faded; their eye grows dim, their cheek care-worn, and their spirit
+loses hope and elasticity, and becomes bowed with premature age; and in
+the midst of tangible and physical comfort, they are restless and
+unhappy. The constant under-current of little cares and vexations, which
+is slowly wearing on the finer springs of life, is seen by no one;
+scarce ever do they speak of these things to their nearest friends. Yet
+were there a friend of a spirit so discerning as to feel and sympathize
+in all these things, how much of this repressed electric restlessness
+would pass off through such a sympathizing mind.
+
+Yet among human friends this is all but impossible, for minds are so
+diverse that what is a trial and a care to one is a matter of sport and
+amusement to another; and all the inner world breathed into a human ear
+only excites a surprised or contemptuous pity. Whom, then, shall the
+soul turn to? Who will feel _that_ to be affliction which each spirit
+feels to be so? If the soul shut itself within itself, it becomes
+morbid; the fine chords of the mind and nerves by constant wear become
+jarring and discordant; hence fretfulness, discontent, and habitual
+irritability steal over the sincere Christian.
+
+But to the Christian that really believes in the agency of God in the
+smallest events of life, that confides in his love, and makes his
+sympathy his refuge, the thousand minute cares and perplexities of life
+become each one a fine affiliating bond between the soul and its God.
+God is known, not by abstract definition, and by high-raised conceptions
+of the soul's aspiring hours, but known as a man knoweth his friend; he
+is known by the hourly wants he supplies; known by every care with which
+he momentarily sympathizes, every apprehension which he relieves, every
+temptation which he enables us to surmount. We learn to know God as the
+infant child learns to know its mother and its father, by all the
+helplessness and all the dependence which are incident to this
+commencement of our moral existence; and as we go on thus year by year,
+and find in every changing situation, in every reverse, in every
+trouble, from the lightest sorrow to those which wring our soul from its
+depths, that he is equally present, and that his gracious aid is equally
+adequate, our faith seems gradually almost to change to sight; and God's
+existence, his love and care, seem to us more real than any other source
+of reliance, and multiplied cares and trials are only new avenues of
+acquaintance between us and heaven.
+
+Suppose, in some bright vision unfolding to our view, in tranquil
+evening or solemn midnight, the glorified form of some departed friend
+should appear to us with the announcement, "This year is to be to you
+one of especial probation and discipline, with reference to perfecting
+you for a heavenly state. Weigh well and consider every incident of your
+daily life, for not one shall fall out by accident, but each one is to
+be a finished and indispensable link in a bright chain that is to draw
+you upward to the skies!"
+
+With what new eyes should we now look on our daily lot! and if we found
+in it not a single change,--the same old cares, the same perplexities,
+the same uninteresting drudgeries still,--with what new meaning would
+every incident be invested! and with what other and sublimer spirit
+could we meet them? Yet, if announced by one rising from the dead with
+the visible glory of a spiritual world, this truth could be asserted no
+more clearly and distinctly than Jesus Christ has stated it already. Not
+a sparrow falleth to the ground without our Father. Not one of them is
+forgotten by him; and we are of more value than many sparrows; yea, even
+the hairs of our head are all numbered. Not till belief in these
+declarations, in their most literal sense, becomes the calm and settled
+habit of the soul, is life ever redeemed from drudgery and dreary
+emptiness, and made full of interest, meaning, and divine significance.
+Not till then do its grovelling wants, its wearing cares, its stinging
+vexations, become to us ministering spirits, each one, by a silent but
+certain agency, fitting us for a higher and perfect sphere.
+
+
+
+
+CONVERSATION ON CONVERSATION.
+
+
+     "For every idle word that men shall speak, they shall give account
+     thereof in the day of judgment."
+
+"A very solemn sermon," said Miss B., shaking her head impressively, as
+she sat down to table on Sunday noon; then giving a deep sigh, she
+added, "I am afraid that if an account is to be rendered for all our
+idle words, some people will have a great deal to answer for."
+
+"Why, Cousin Anna," replied a sprightly young lady opposite, "what do
+you mean by _idle words_?"
+
+"All words that have not a strictly useful tendency, Helen," replied
+Miss B.
+
+"I don't know what is to become of me, then," answered Helen, "for I
+never can think of any thing useful to say. I sit and try sometimes, but
+it always stops my talking. I don't think any thing in the world is so
+doleful as a set of persons sitting round, all trying to say something
+useful, like a parcel of old clocks ticking at each other. I think one
+might as well take the vow of entire silence, like the monks of La
+Trappe."
+
+"It is probable," said Miss B., "that a greater part of our ordinary
+conversation had better be dispensed with. 'In the multitude of words
+there wanteth not sin.' For my own part, my conscience often reproaches
+me with the sins of my tongue."
+
+"I'm sure you don't sin much that way, I must say," said Helen; "but,
+cousin, I really think it is a freezing business sitting still and
+reflecting all the time when friends are together; and after all I can't
+bring myself to feel as if it were wrong to talk and chatter away a good
+part of the time, just for the sake of talking. For instance, if a
+friend comes in of a morning to make a call, I talk about the weather,
+my roses, my Canary birds, or any thing that comes uppermost."
+
+"And about lace, and bonnet patterns, and the last fashions," added Miss
+B., sarcastically.
+
+"Well, supposing we do; where's the harm?"
+
+"Where's the good?" said Miss B.
+
+"The good! why, it passes time agreeably, and makes us feel kindly
+towards each other."
+
+"I think, Helen," said Miss B., "if you had a higher view of Christian
+responsibility, you would not be satisfied with merely passing time
+agreeably, or exciting agreeable feelings in others. Does not the very
+text we are speaking of show that we have an account to give in the day
+of judgment for all this trifling, useless conversation?"
+
+"I don't know what that text does mean," replied Helen, looking
+seriously; "but if it means as you say, I think it is a very hard,
+strait rule."
+
+"Well," replied Miss B., "is not duty always hard and strait? 'Strait is
+the gate, and narrow is the way,' you know."
+
+Helen sighed.
+
+"What do you think of this, Uncle C.?" she said, after some pause. The
+uncle of the two young ladies had been listening thus far in silence.
+
+"I think," he replied, "that before people begin to discuss, they should
+be quite sure as to what they are talking about; and I am not exactly
+clear in this case. You say, Anna," said he, turning to Miss B., "that
+all conversation is idle which has not a directly useful tendency. Now,
+what do you mean by that? Are we never to say any thing that has not for
+its direct and specific object to benefit others or ourselves?"
+
+"Yes," replied Miss B., "I suppose not."
+
+"Well, then, when I say, 'Good morning, sir; 'tis a pleasant day,' I
+have no such object. Are these, then, idle words?"
+
+"Why, no, not exactly," replied Miss B.; "in some cases it is necessary
+to say something, so as not to appear rude."
+
+"Very well," replied her uncle. "You admit, then, that some things,
+which are not instructive in themselves considered, are to be said to
+keep up the intercourse of society."
+
+"Certainly; some things," said Miss B.
+
+"Well, now, in the case mentioned by Helen, when two or three people
+with whom you are in different degrees of intimacy call upon you, I
+think she is perfectly right, as she said, in talking of roses, and
+Canary birds, and even of bonnet patterns, and lace, or any thing of the
+kind, for the sake of making conversation. It amounts to the same thing
+as 'good morning,' and 'good evening,' and the other courtesies of
+society. This sort of small talk has nothing instructive in it, and yet
+it may be _useful_ in its place. It makes people comfortable and easy,
+promotes kind and social feelings; and making people comfortable by any
+innocent means is certainly not a thing to be despised."
+
+"But is there not great danger of becoming light and trifling if one
+allows this?" said Miss B., doubtfully.
+
+"To be sure; there is always danger of running every innocent thing to
+excess. One might eat to excess, or drink to excess; yet eating and
+drinking are both useful in their way. Now, our lively young friend
+Helen, here, might perhaps be in some temptation of this sort; but as
+for you, Anna, I think you in more danger of another extreme."
+
+"And what is that?"
+
+"Of overstraining your mind by endeavoring to keep up a constant, fixed
+state of seriousness and solemnity, and not allowing yourself the
+relaxation necessary to preserve its healthy tone. In order to be
+healthy, every mind must have variety and amusement; and if you would
+sit down at least one hour a day, and join your friends in some amusing
+conversation, and indulge in a good laugh, I think, my dear, that you
+would not only be a happier person, but a better Christian."
+
+"My dear uncle," said Miss B., "this is the very thing that I have been
+most on my guard against; I can never tell stories, or laugh and joke,
+without feeling condemned for it afterwards."
+
+"But, my dear, you must do the thing in the testimony of a good
+conscience before you can do it to any purpose. You must make up your
+mind that cheerful and entertaining conversation--conversation whose
+first object is to amuse--is _useful conversation_ in its place, and
+then your conscience will not be injured by joining in it."
+
+"But what good does it do, uncle?"
+
+"Do you not often complain of coldness and deadness in your religious
+feelings? of lifelessness and want of interest?"
+
+"Yes, uncle."
+
+"Well, this coldness and lifelessness is the result of forcing your mind
+to one set of thoughts and feelings. You become worn out--your feelings
+exhausted--deadness and depression ensues. Now, turn your mind off from
+these subjects--divert it by a cheerful and animated conversation, and
+you will find, after a while, that it will return to them with new life
+and energy."
+
+"But are not foolish talking and jesting expressly forbidden?"
+
+"That text, if you will look at the connections, does not forbid jesting
+in the abstract; but jesting on immodest subjects--which are often
+designated in the New Testament by the phraseology there employed. I
+should give the sense of it--neither filthiness, nor foolish talking,
+nor indelicate jests. The kind of sprightly and amusing conversation to
+which I referred, I should not denominate foolish, by any means, at
+proper times and places."
+
+"Yet people often speak of gayety as inconsistent in Christians--even
+worldly people," said Miss B.
+
+"Yes, because, in the first place, they often have wrong ideas as to
+what Christianity requires in this respect, and suppose Christians to be
+violating their own principles in indulging in it. In the second place,
+there are some, especially among young people, who never talk in any
+other way--with whom this kind of conversation is not an amusement, but
+a habit--giving the impression that they never think seriously at all.
+But I think, that if persons are really possessed by the tender,
+affectionate, benevolent spirit of Christianity--if they regulate their
+temper and their tongue by it, and in all their actions show an evident
+effort to conform to its precepts, they will not do harm by occasionally
+indulging in sprightly and amusing conversation--they will not make the
+impression that they are not sincerely Christians."
+
+"Besides," said Helen, "are not people sometimes repelled from religion
+by a want of cheerfulness in its professors?"
+
+"Certainly," replied her uncle, "and the difference is just this: if a
+person is habitually trifling and thoughtless, it is thought that they
+have _no_ religion; if they are ascetic and gloomy, it is attributed
+_to_ their religion; and you know what Miss E. Smith says--that 'to be
+good and disagreeable is high treason against virtue.' The more
+sincerely and earnestly religious a person is, the more important it is
+that they should be agreeable."
+
+"But, uncle," said Helen, "what does that text mean that we began with?
+What are idle words?"
+
+"My dear, if you will turn to the place where the passage is (Matt.
+xii.) and read the whole page, you will see the meaning of it. Christ
+was not reproving any body for trifling conversation at the time; but
+for a very serious slander. The Pharisees, in their bitterness, accused
+him of being in league with evil spirits. It seems, by what follows,
+that this was a charge which involved an unpardonable sin. They were
+not, indeed, conscious of its full guilt--they said it merely from the
+impulse of excited and envious feeling--but he warns them that in the
+day of judgment, God will hold them accountable for the full
+consequences of all such language, however little they may have thought
+of it at the time of uttering it. The sense of the passage I take to be,
+'God will hold you responsible in the day of judgment for the
+consequences of all you have said in your most idle and thoughtless
+moments.'"
+
+"For example," said Helen, "if one makes unguarded and unfounded
+assertions about the Bible, which excite doubt and prejudice."
+
+"There are many instances," said her uncle, "that are quite in point.
+Suppose in conversation, either under the influence of envy or ill will,
+or merely from love of talking, you make remarks and statements about
+another person which may be true or may not,--you do not stop to
+inquire,--your unguarded words set reports in motion, and unhappiness,
+and hard feeling, and loss of character are the result. You spoke idly,
+it is true, but nevertheless you are held responsible by God for all the
+consequences of your words. So professors of religion often make
+unguarded remarks about each other, which lead observers to doubt the
+truth of all religion; and they are responsible for every such doubt
+they excite. Parents and guardians often allow themselves to speak of
+the faults and weaknesses of their ministers in the presence of children
+and younger people--they do it thoughtlessly--but in so doing they
+destroy an influence which might otherwise have saved the souls of their
+children; they are responsible for it. People of cultivated minds and
+fastidious taste often allow themselves to come home from church, and
+criticize a sermon, and unfold all its weak points in the presence of
+others on whom it may have made a very serious impression. While the
+critic is holding up the bad arrangement, and setting in a ludicrous
+point of view the lame figures, perhaps the servant behind his chair,
+who was almost persuaded to be a Christian by that very discourse, gives
+up his purposes, in losing his respect for the sermon; this was
+thoughtless--but the evil is done, and the man who did it is responsible
+for it."
+
+"I think," said Helen, "that a great deal of evil is done to children in
+this way, by our not thinking of what we are saying."
+
+"It seems to me," said Miss B., "that this view of the subject will
+reduce us to silence almost as much as the other. How is one ever to
+estimate the consequences of their words, people are affected in so many
+different ways by the same thing?"
+
+"I suppose," said her uncle, "we are only responsible for such results
+as by carefulness and reflection we might have foreseen. It is not for
+_ill-judged_ words, but for idle words, that we are to be judged--words
+uttered without any consideration at all, and producing bad results. If
+a person really anxious to do right misjudges as to the probable effect
+of what he is about to say on others, it is quite another thing."
+
+"But, uncle, will not such carefulness destroy all freedom in
+conversation?" said Helen.
+
+"If you are talking with a beloved friend, Helen, do you not use an
+_instinctive_ care to avoid all that might pain that friend?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"And do you find this effort a restraint on your enjoyment?"
+
+"Certainly not."
+
+"And you, from your own feelings, avoid what is indelicate and impure in
+conversation, and yet feel it no restraint?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Well, I suppose the object of Christian effort should be so to realize
+the character of our Savior, and conform our tastes and sympathies to
+his, that we shall _instinctively_ avoid all in our conversation that
+would be displeasing to him. A person habitually indulging jealous,
+angry, or revengeful feeling--a person habitually worldly in his
+spirit--a person allowing himself in sceptical and unsettled habits of
+thought, _cannot_ talk without doing harm. This is our Savior's account
+of the matter in the verses immediately before the passage we were
+speaking of--'How _can_ ye, being evil, speak good things? for out of
+the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh. A good man out of the
+good treasure of his heart bringeth forth good things, and an evil man
+out of the evil treasure of his heart bringeth forth evil things.' The
+highest flow of animal spirits would never hurry a pure-minded person to
+say any thing indelicate or gross; and in the same manner, if a person
+is habitually Christian in all his habits of thought and feeling, he
+will be able without irksome watchfulness to avoid what may be injurious
+even in the most unrestrained conversation."
+
+
+
+
+HOW DO WE KNOW?
+
+
+It was a splendid room. Rich curtains swept down to the floor in
+graceful folds, half excluding the light, and shedding it in soft hues
+over the fine old paintings on the walls, and over the broad mirrors
+that reflect all that taste can accomplish by the hand of wealth. Books,
+the rarest and most costly, were around, in every form of gorgeous
+binding and gilding, and among them, glittering in ornament, lay a
+magnificent Bible--a Bible too beautiful in its appointments, too showy,
+too ornamental, ever to have been meant to be read--a Bible which every
+visitor should take up and exclaim, "What a beautiful edition! what
+superb bindings!" and then lay it down again.
+
+And the master of the house was lounging on a sofa, looking over a late
+review--for he was a man of leisure, taste, and reading--but, then, as
+to reading the Bible!--_that_ forms, we suppose, no part of the
+pretensions of a man of letters. The Bible--certainly he considered it a
+very _respectable_ book--a fine specimen of ancient literature--an
+admirable book of moral precepts; but, then, as to its divine origin, he
+had not exactly made up his mind: some parts appeared strange and
+inconsistent to his reason--others were revolting to his taste: true, he
+had never studied it very attentively, yet such was his _general
+impression_ about it; but, on the whole, he thought it well enough to
+keep an elegant copy of it on his drawing room table.
+
+So much for one picture. Now for another.
+
+Come with us into this little dark alley, and up a flight of ruinous
+stairs. It is a bitter night, and the wind and snow might drive through
+the crevices of the poor room, were it not that careful hands have
+stopped them with paper or cloth. But for all this carefulness, the room
+is bitter cold--cold even with those few decaying brands on the hearth,
+which that sorrowful woman is trying to kindle with her breath. Do you
+see that pale, little, thin girl, with large, bright eyes, who is
+crouching so near her mother?--hark!--how she coughs! Now listen.
+
+"Mary, my dear child," says the mother, "do keep that shawl close about
+you; you are cold, I know," and the woman shivers as she speaks.
+
+"No, mother, not _very_," replies the child, again relapsing into that
+hollow, ominous cough. "I wish you wouldn't make me always wear your
+shawl when it is cold, mother."
+
+"Dear child, you need it most. How you cough to-night!" replies the
+mother; "it really don't seem right for me to send you up that long,
+cold street; now your shoes have grown so poor, too; I must go myself
+after this."
+
+"O mother, you must stay with the baby--what if he should have one of
+those dreadful fits while you are gone! No, I can go very well; I have
+got used to the cold now."
+
+"But, mother, I'm cold," says a little voice from the scanty bed in the
+corner; "mayn't I get up and come to the fire?"
+
+"Dear child, it would not warm you; it is very cold here, and I can't
+make any more fire to-night."
+
+"Why can't you, mother? There are four whole sticks of wood in the box;
+do put one on, and let's get warm once."
+
+"No, my dear little Henry," says the mother, soothingly, "that is all
+the wood mother has, and I haven't any money to get more."
+
+And now wakens the sick baby in the cradle, and mother and daughter are
+both for some time busy in attempting to supply its little wants, and
+lulling it again to sleep.
+
+And now look you well at that mother. Six months ago she had a husband,
+whose earnings procured for her both the necessaries and comforts of
+life; her children were clothed, fed, and schooled, without thoughts of
+hers. But husband-less, friendless, and alone in the heart of a great,
+busy city, with feeble health, and only the precarious resource of her
+needle, she has gone down from comfort to extreme poverty. Look at her
+now, as she is to-night. She knows full well that the pale, bright-eyed
+girl, whose hollow cough constantly rings in her ears, is far from well.
+She knows that cold, and hunger, and exposure of every kind, are daily
+and surely wearing away her life. And yet what can she do? Poor soul!
+how many times has she calculated all her little resources, to see if
+she could pay a doctor and get medicine for Mary--yet all in vain. She
+knows that timely medicine, ease, fresh air, and warmth might save her;
+but she knows that all these things are out of the question for her. She
+feels, too, as a mother would feel, when she sees her once rosy, happy
+little boy becoming pale, and anxious, and fretful; and even when he
+teases her most, she only stops her work a moment, and strokes his
+little thin cheeks, and thinks what a laughing, happy little fellow he
+once was, till she has not a heart to reprove him. And all this day she
+has toiled with a sick and fretful baby in her lap, and her little
+shivering, hungry boy at her side, whom Mary's patient artifices cannot
+always keep quiet; she has toiled over the last piece of work which she
+can procure from the shop, for the man has told her that after this he
+can furnish no more; and the little money that is to come from this is
+already portioned out in her own mind, and after that she has no human
+prospect of support.
+
+But yet that woman's face is patient, quiet, firm. Nay, you may even see
+in her suffering eye something like peace. And whence comes it? I will
+tell you.
+
+There is a Bible in that room, as well as in the rich man's apartment.
+Not splendidly bound, to be sure, but faithfully read--a plain, homely,
+much-worn book.
+
+Hearken now while she says to her children, "Listen to me, dear
+children, and I will read you something out of this book. 'Let not your
+heart be troubled; in my Father's house are many mansions.' So you see,
+my children, we shall not always live in this little, cold, dark room.
+Jesus Christ has promised to take us to a better home."
+
+"Shall we be warm there all day?" says the little boy, earnestly; "and
+shall we have enough to eat?"
+
+"Yes, dear child," says the mother; "listen to what the Bible says:
+'They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more; for the Lamb which
+is in the midst of the throne shall feed them; and God shall wipe away
+all tears from their eyes.'"
+
+"I am glad of that," said little Mary, "for, mother, I never can bear to
+see you cry."
+
+"But, mother," says little Henry, "won't God send us something to eat
+to-morrow?"
+
+"See," says the mother, "what the Bible says: 'Seek ye not what ye shall
+eat, nor what ye shall drink, neither be of anxious mind. For your
+Father knoweth that ye have need of these things.'"
+
+"But, mother," says little Mary, "if God is our Father, and loves us,
+what does he let us be so poor for?"
+
+"Nay," says the mother, "our dear Lord Jesus Christ was as poor as we
+are, and God certainly loved him."
+
+"Was he, mother?"
+
+"Yes, children; you remember how he said, 'The Son of man hath not where
+to lay his head.' And it tells us more than once that Jesus was hungry
+when there was none to give him food."
+
+"O mother, what should we do without the Bible?" says Mary.
+
+Now, if the rich man, who had not yet made up his mind what to think of
+the Bible, should visit this poor woman, and ask her on what she
+grounded her belief of its truth, what could she answer? Could she give
+the arguments from miracles and prophecy? Could she account for all the
+changes which might have taken place in it through translators and
+copyists, and prove that we have a genuine and uncorrupted version? Not
+she! But how, then, does she know that it is true? How, say you? How
+does she know that she has warm life blood in her heart? How does she
+know that there is such a thing as air and sunshine? She does not
+_believe_ these things--she _knows_ them; and in like manner, with a
+deep heart consciousness, she is certain that the words of her Bible are
+truth and life. Is it by reasoning that the frightened child, bewildered
+in the dark, knows its mother's voice? No! Nor is it only by reasoning
+that the forlorn and distressed human heart knows the voice of its
+Savior, and is still.
+
+
+
+
+WHICH IS THE LIBERAL MAN?
+
+
+It was a beaming and beautiful summer morning, and the little town of V.
+was alive with all the hurry and motion of a college commencement. Rows
+of carriages lined the rural streets, and groups of well-dressed
+auditors were thronging to the hall of exhibition. All was gayety and
+animation.
+
+And among them all what heart beat higher with hope and gratified
+ambition than that of James Stanton? Young, buoyant, prepossessing in
+person and manners, he was this day, in the presence of all the world,
+to carry off the highest palm of scholarship in his institution, and to
+receive, on the threshold of the great world, the utmost that youthful
+ambition can ask before it enters the arena of actual life. Did not his
+pulse flutter, and his heart beat thick, when he heard himself announced
+in the crowded house as the valedictorian of the day? when he saw aged
+men, and fair, youthful faces, ruddy childhood, and sober, calculating
+manhood alike bending in hushed and eager curiosity, to listen to his
+words? Nay, did not his heart rise in his throat as he caught the gleam
+of his father's eye, while, bending forward on his staff, with white,
+reverend locks falling about his face, he listened to the voice of his
+pride--his first born? And did he not see the glistening tears in his
+mother's eye, as with rapt ear she hung upon his every word? Ah, the
+young man's first triumph! When, full of confidence and hope, he enters
+the field of life, all his white glistening as yet unsoiled by the dust
+of the combat, the unproved world turning towards him with flatteries
+and promises in both hands, what other triumph does life give so fresh,
+so full, so replete with hope and joy? So felt James Stanton this day,
+when he heard his father congratulated on having a son of such promise;
+when old men, revered for talents and worth, shook hands with him, and
+bade him warmly God speed in the course of life; when bright eyes cast
+glances of favor, and from among the fairest were overheard whispers of
+admiration.
+
+"Your son is designed for the bar, I trust," said the venerable Judge L.
+to the father of James, at the commencement dinner. "I have seldom seen
+a turn of mind better fitted for success in the legal profession. And
+then his voice! his manner! let him go to the bar, sir, and I prophesy
+that he will yet outdo us all."
+
+And this was said in James's hearing, and by one whose commendation was
+not often so warmly called forth. It was not in any young heart not to
+beat quicker at such prospects. Honor, station, wealth, political
+ambition, all seemed to offer themselves to his grasp; but long ere
+this, in the solitude of retirement, in the stillness of prayer and
+self-examination, the young graduate had vowed himself to a different
+destiny; and if we may listen to a conversation, a few evenings after
+commencement, with a classmate, we shall learn more of the secret
+workings of his mind.
+
+"And so, Stanton," said George Lennox to him, as they sat by their
+evening fireside, "you have not yet decided whether to accept Judge L.'s
+offer or not."
+
+"I have decided that matter long ago," said James.
+
+"So, then, you choose the ministry."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, for my part," replied George Lennox, "I choose the law. There
+must be Christians, you know, in every vocation; the law seems to suit
+my turn of mind. I trust it will be my effort to live as becomes a
+Christian, whatever be my calling."
+
+"I trust so," replied James.
+
+"But really, Stanton," added the other, after some thought, "it seems a
+pity to cast away such prospects as open before you. You know your
+tuition is offered gratis; and then the patronage of Judge L., and such
+influences as he can command to secure your success--pray, do not these
+things seem to you like a providential indication that the law is to be
+your profession? Besides, here in these New England States, the ministry
+is overflowed already--ministers enough, and too many, if one may judge
+by the number of applicants for every unoccupied place."
+
+"Nay," replied James, "my place is not here. I know, if all accounts are
+true, that my profession is not overflowed in our Western States, and
+there I mean to go."
+
+"And is it possible that you can contemplate such an entire sacrifice of
+your talents, your manners, your literary and scientific tastes, your
+capabilities for refined society, as to bury yourself in a log cabin in
+one of our new states? You will never be appreciated there; your
+privations and sacrifices will be entirely disregarded, and you placed
+on a level with the coarsest and most uneducated sectaries. I really do
+not think you are called to this."
+
+"Who, then, is called?" replied James.
+
+"Why, men with much less of all these good things--men with real coarse,
+substantial, backwoods furniture in their minds, who will not
+appreciate, and of course not feel, the want of all the refinements and
+comforts which you must sacrifice."
+
+"And are there enough such men ready to meet the emergencies in our
+western world, so that no others need be called upon?" replied James.
+"Men of the class you speak of may do better than I; but, if after all
+their efforts I still am needed, and can work well, ought I not to go?
+Must those only be drafted for religious enterprises to whom they
+involve no sacrifice?"
+
+"Well, for my part," replied the other, "I trust I am willing to do any
+thing that is my duty; yet I never could feel it to be my duty to bury
+myself in a new state, among stumps and log cabins. My mind would rust
+itself out; and, missing the stimulus of such society as I have been
+accustomed to, I should run down completely, and be useless in body and
+in mind."
+
+"If you feel so, it would be so," replied James. "If the work there to
+be done would not be stimulus and excitement enough to compensate for
+the absence of all other stimulus,--if the business of the ministry, the
+_saving of human souls_, is not the one all-absorbing purpose, and
+desire, and impulse of the whole being,--then woe to the man who goes to
+preach the gospel where there is nothing but human souls to be gained by
+it."
+
+"Well, Stanton," replied the other, after a pause of some seriousness,
+"I cannot say that I have attained to this yet. I don't know but I might
+be brought to it; but at present I must confess it is not so. We ought
+not to rush into a state and employment which we have not the moral
+fortitude to sustain well. In short, for myself, I may make a
+respectable, and, I trust, not useless man in the law, when I could do
+nothing in the circumstances which you choose. However, I respect your
+feelings, and heartily wish that I could share them myself."
+
+A few days after this conversation the young friends parted for their
+several destinations--the one to a law school, the other to a
+theological seminary.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was many years after this that a middle-aged man, of somewhat
+threadbare appearance and restricted travelling conveniences, was seen
+carefully tying his horse at the outer enclosure of an elegant mansion
+in the town of ----, in one of our Western States; which being done, he
+eyed the house rather inquisitively, as people sometimes do when they
+are doubtful as to the question of entering or not entering. The house
+belonged to George Lennox, Esq., a lawyer reputed to be doing a more
+extensive business than any other in the state, and the threadbare
+gentleman who plies the knocker at the front door is the Reverend Mr.
+Stanton, a name widely spread in the ecclesiastical circles of the land.
+The door opens, and the old college acquaintances meet with a cordial
+grasp of the hand, and Mr. Stanton soon finds himself pressed to the
+most comfortable accommodations in the warm parlor of his friend; and
+even the slight uneasiness which the wisest are not always exempt from,
+when conscious of a little shabbiness in exterior, was entirely
+dissipated by the evident cordiality of his reception. Since the
+conversation we have alluded to, the two friends pursued their separate
+courses with but few opportunities of personal intercourse. In the true
+zeal of the missionary, James Stanton had thrown himself into the field,
+where it seemed hardest and darkest, and where labor seemed most needed.
+In neighborhoods without churches, without school houses, without
+settled roads, among a population of disorganized and heterogeneous
+material, he had exhorted from house to house, labored individually with
+one after another, till he had, in place after place, brought together
+the elements of a Christian church. Far from all ordinances, means of
+grace, or Christian brotherhood, or coöperation, he had seemed to
+himself to be merely the lonely, solitary "_voice_ of one crying in the
+wilderness," as unassisted, and, to human view, as powerless. With
+poverty, and cold, and physical fatigue he had daily been familiar; and
+where no vehicle could penetrate the miry depths of the forest, where it
+was impracticable even to guide a horse, he had walked miles and miles,
+through mud and rain, to preach. With a wife in delicate health, and a
+young and growing family, he had more than once seen the year when fifty
+dollars was the whole amount of money that had passed through his hands;
+and the whole of the rest of his support had come in disconnected
+contributions from one and another of his people. He had lived without
+books, without newspapers, except as he had found them by chance
+snatches here and there,[1] and felt, as one so circumstanced only can
+feel, the difficulty of maintaining intellectual vigor and energy in
+default of all those stimulants to which cultivated minds in more
+favorable circumstances are so much indebted. At the time that he is now
+introduced to the reader, he had been recently made pastor in one of the
+most important settlements in the state, and among those who, so far as
+worldly circumstances were concerned, were able to afford him a
+competent support. But among communities like those at the west, settled
+for expressly money-making purposes, and by those who have for years
+been taught the lesson to save, and have scarcely begun to feel the duty
+to give, a minister, however laborious, however eloquent and successful,
+may often feel the most serious embarrassments of poverty. Too often is
+his salary regarded as a charity which may be given or retrenched to
+suit every emergency of the times, and his family expenditures watched
+with a jealous and censorious eye.
+
+[Footnote 1: Those particulars the writer heard stated personally as a
+part of the experience of one of the most devoted ministers of Ohio.]
+
+On the other hand, George Lennox, the lawyer, had by his talents and
+efficiency placed himself at the head of his profession, and was
+realizing an income which brought all the comforts and elegances of life
+within his reach. He was a member of the Christian church in the place
+where he lived, irreproachable in life and conduct. From natural
+generosity of disposition, seconded by principle, he was a liberal
+contributor to all religious and benevolent enterprises, and was often
+quoted and referred to as an example in good works. Surrounded by an
+affectionate and growing family, with ample means for providing in the
+best manner both for their physical and mental development, he justly
+regarded himself as a happy man, and was well satisfied with the world
+he lived in.
+
+Now, there is nothing more trying to the Christianity or the philosophy
+which teaches the vanity of riches than a few hours' domestication in a
+family where wealth is employed, not for purposes of ostentation, but
+for the perfecting of home comfort and the gratification of refined
+intellectual tastes; and as Mr. Stanton leaned back, slippered and
+gowned, in one of the easiest of chairs, and began to look over
+periodicals and valuable new books from which he had long been excluded,
+he might be forgiven for giving a half sigh to the reflection that he
+could never be a rich man. "Have you read this review?" said his
+companion, handing him one of the leading periodicals of the day across
+the table.
+
+"I seldom see reviews," said Mr. Stanton, taking it.
+
+"You lose a great deal," replied the other, "if you have not seen those
+by this author--altogether the ablest series of literary efforts in our
+time. You clerical gentlemen ought not to sacrifice your literary tastes
+entirely to your professional cares. A moderate attention to current
+literature liberalizes the mind, and gives influence that you could not
+otherwise acquire."
+
+"Literary taste is an expensive thing to a minister," said Mr. Stanton,
+smiling: "for the mind, as well as the body, we must forego all
+luxuries, and confine ourselves simply to necessaries."
+
+"I would always indulge myself with books and periodicals, even if I had
+to scrimp elsewhere," said Mr. Lennox; and he spoke of scrimping with
+all the serious good faith with which people of two or three thousand a
+year usually speak of these matters.
+
+Mr. Stanton smiled, and waived the subject, wondering mentally where his
+friend would find an elsewhere to scrimp, if he had the management of
+_his_ concerns. The conversation gradually flowed back to college days
+and scenes, and the friends amused themselves with tracing the history
+of their various classmates.
+
+"And so Alsop is in the Senate," said Mr. Stanton. "Strange! We did not
+at all expect it of him. But do you know any thing of George Bush?"
+
+"O, yes," replied the other; "he went into mercantile life, and the last
+I heard he had turned a speculation worth thirty thousand--a shrewd
+fellow. I always knew he would make his way in the world."
+
+"But what has become of Langdon?"
+
+"O, he is doing well; he is professor of languages in ---- College, and
+I hear he has lately issued a Latin Grammar that promises to have quite
+a run."
+
+"And Smithson?"
+
+"Smithson has an office at Washington, and was there living in great
+style the last time I saw him."
+
+It may be questioned whether the minister sank to sleep that night, amid
+the many comfortable provisions of his friend's guest chamber, without
+rebuking in his heart a certain rising of regret that he had turned his
+back on all the honors, and distinctions, and comforts which lay around
+the path of others, who had not, in the opening of the race, half the
+advantages of himself. "See," said the insidious voice--"what have you
+gained? See your early friends surrounded by riches and comfort, while
+you are pinched and harassed by poverty. Have they not, many of them, as
+good a hope of heaven as you have, and all this besides? Could you not
+have lived easier, and been a good man after all?" The reflection was
+only silenced by remembering that the only Being who ever had the
+perfect power of choosing his worldly condition, chose, of his own
+accord, a poverty deeper than that of any of his servants. Had Christ
+consented to be rich, what check could there have been to the desire of
+it among his followers? But he chose to stoop so low that none could be
+lower; and that in extremest want none could ever say, "I am poorer than
+was my Savior and God."
+
+The friends at parting the next morning shook hands warmly, and promised
+a frequent renewal of their resumed intercourse. Nor was the bill for
+twenty dollars, which the minister found in his hand, at all an
+unacceptable addition to the pleasures of his visit; and though the
+November wind whistled keenly through a dull, comfortless sky, he turned
+his horse's head homeward with a lightened heart.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Mother's sick, and _I'm_ a-keeping house!" said a little flaxen-headed
+girl, in all the importance of seven years, as her father entered the
+dwelling.
+
+"Your mother sick! what's the matter?" inquired Mr. Stanton.
+
+"She caught cold washing, yesterday, while you were gone;" and when the
+minister stood by the bedside of his sick wife, saw her flushed face,
+and felt her feverish pulse, he felt seriously alarmed. She had scarcely
+recovered from a dangerous fever when he left home, and with reason he
+dreaded a relapse.
+
+"My dear, why have you done so?" was the first expostulation; "why did
+you not send for old Agnes to do your washing, as I told you."
+
+"I felt so well, I thought I was quite able," was the reply; "and you
+know it will take all the money we have now in hand to get the
+children's shoes before cold weather comes, and nobody knows when we
+shall have any more."
+
+"Well, Mary, comfort your heart as to that. I have had a present to-day
+of twenty dollars--that will last us some time. God always provides when
+need is greatest." And so, after administering a little to the comfort
+of his wife, the minister addressed himself to the business of cooking
+something for dinner for himself and his little hungry flock.
+
+"There is no bread in the house," he exclaimed, after a survey of the
+ways and means at his disposal.
+
+"I must try and sit up long enough to make some," said his wife faintly.
+
+"You must try to be quiet," replied the husband. "We can do very well on
+potatoes. But yet," he added, "I think if I bring the things to your
+bedside, and you show me how to mix them, I could make some bread."
+
+A burst of laughter from the young fry chorused his proposal;
+nevertheless, as Mr. Stanton was a man of decided genius, by help of
+much showing, and of strong arms and good will, the feat was at length
+accomplished in no unworkmanlike manner; and while the bread was put
+down to the fire to rise, and the potatoes were baking in the oven, Mr.
+Stanton having enjoined silence on his noisy troop, sat down, pencil in
+hand, by his wife's bed, to prepare a sermon.
+
+We would that those ministers who feel that they cannot compose without
+a study, and that the airiest and pleasantest room in the house, where
+the floor is guarded by the thick carpet, the light carefully relieved
+by curtains, where papers are filed and arranged neatly in conveniences
+purposely adjusted, with books of reference standing invitingly around,
+could once figure to themselves the process of composing a sermon in
+circumstances such as we have painted. Mr. Stanton had written his text,
+and jotted down something of an introduction, when a circumstance
+occurred which is almost inevitable in situations where a person has any
+thing else to attend to--_the baby woke_. The little interloper was to
+be tied into a chair, while the flaxen-headed young housekeeper was now
+installed into the office of waiter in ordinary to her majesty, and by
+shaking a newspaper before her face, plying a rattle, or other arts
+known only to the initiate, to prevent her from indulging in any
+unpleasant demonstrations, while Mr. Stanton proceeded with his train of
+thought.
+
+"Papa, papa! the teakettle! only look!" cried all the younger ones, just
+as he was again beginning to abstract his mind.
+
+Mr. Stanton rose, and adapting part of his sermon paper to the handle of
+the teakettle, poured the boiling water on some herb drink for his wife,
+and then recommenced.
+
+"I sha'n't have much of a sermon!" he soliloquized, as his youngest but
+one, with the ingenuity common to children of her standing, had
+contrived to tip herself over in her chair, and cut her under lip, which
+for the time being threw the whole settlement into commotion; and this
+conviction was strengthened by finding that it was now time to give the
+children their dinner.
+
+"I fear Mrs. Stanton is imprudent in exerting herself," said the medical
+man to the husband, as he examined her symptoms.
+
+"I know she is," replied her husband, "but I cannot keep her from it."
+
+"It is absolutely indispensable that she should rest and keep her mind
+easy," said the doctor.
+
+"Rest and keep easy"--how easily the words are said! yet how they fall
+on the ear of a mother, who knows that her whole flock have not yet a
+garment prepared for winter, that hiring assistance is out of the
+question, and that the work must all be done by herself--who sees that
+while she is sick her husband is perplexed, and kept from his
+appropriate duties, and her children, despite his well-meant efforts,
+suffering for the want of those attentions that only a mother can give.
+Will not any mother, so tried, rise from her sick bed before she feels
+able, to be again prostrated by over-exertion, until the vigor of the
+constitution year by year declines, and she sinks into an early grave?
+Yet this is the true history of many a wife and mother, who, in
+consenting to share the privations of a western minister, has as truly
+sacrificed her life as did ever martyr on heathen shores. The graves of
+Harriet Newell and Mrs. Judson are hallowed as the shrines of saints,
+and their memory made as a watchword among Christians; yet the western
+valley is full of green and nameless graves, where patient,
+long-enduring wives and mothers have lain down, worn out by the
+privations of as severe a missionary field, and "no man knoweth the
+place of their sepulchre."
+
+The crisp air of a November evening was enlivened by the fire that
+blazed merrily in the bar room of the tavern in L., while a more than
+usual number crowded about the hearth, owing to the session of the
+county court in that place.
+
+"Mr. Lennox is a pretty smart lawyer," began an old gentleman, who sat
+in one of the corners, in the half interrogative tone which indicated a
+wish to start conversation.
+
+"Yes, sir, no mistake about that," was the reply; "does the largest
+business in the state--very smart man, sir, and honest--a church member
+too, and one of the tallest kinds of Christians they say--gives more
+money for building meeting houses, and all sorts of religious concerns,
+than any man around."
+
+"Well, he can afford it," said a man with a thin, care-taking visage,
+and a nervous, anxious twitch of the hand, as if it were his constant
+effort to hold on to something--"he can afford it, for he makes money
+hand over hand. It is not every body can afford to do as he does."
+
+A sly look of intelligence pervaded the company; for the speaker, one of
+the most substantial householders in the settlement, was always taken
+with distressing symptoms of poverty and destitution when any allusion
+to public or religious charity was made.
+
+"Mr. C. is thinking about parish matters," said a wicked wag of the
+company; "you see, sir, our minister urged pretty hard last Sunday to
+have his salary paid up. He has had sickness in his family, and nothing
+on hand for winter expenses."
+
+"I don't think Mr. Stanton is judicious in making such public
+statements," said the former speaker, nervously; "he ought to consult
+his friends privately, and not bring temporalities into the pulpit."
+
+"That is to say, starve decently, and make no fuss," replied the other.
+
+"Nonsense! Who talks of starving, when provision is as plenty as
+blackberries? I tell you I understand this matter, and know how little a
+man can get along with. I've tried it myself. When I first set out in
+life, my wife and I had not a pair of andirons or a shovel and tongs for
+two or three years, and we never thought of complaining. The times are
+hard. We are all losing, and must get along as we can; and Mr. Stanton
+must bear some rubs as well as the rest of us."
+
+"It appears to me, Mr. C," said the waggish gentleman aforesaid, "that
+if you'd put Mr. Stanton into your good brick house, and give him your
+furniture and income, he would be well satisfied to rub along as you
+do."
+
+"Mr. Stanton isn't so careful in his expenses as he might be," said Mr.
+C., petulantly, disregarding the idea started by his neighbor; "he buys
+things _I_ should not think of buying. Now, I was in his house the other
+day, and he had just given three dollars for a single book."
+
+"Perhaps it was a book he needed in his studies," suggested the old
+gentleman who began the conversation.
+
+"What's the use of book larnin' to a minister, if he's got the real
+spirit in him?" chimed in a rough-looking man in the farthest corner;
+"only wish you could have heard Elder North give it off--_there_ was a
+real genuine preacher for you, couldn't even read his text in the Bible;
+yet, sir, he would get up and reel it off as smooth and fast as the best
+of them, that come out of the colleges. My notion is, it's the _spirit_
+that's the thing, after all."
+
+Several of the auditors seemed inclined to express their approbation of
+this doctrine, though some remarked that Mr. Stanton was a smarter
+preacher than Elder North, for all his book larnin'.
+
+Some of the more intelligent of the circle here exchanged smiles, but
+declined entering the lists in favor of "larnin'."
+
+"O, for my part," resumed Mr. C., "I am for having a minister study, and
+have books and all that, if he can afford it; but in hard times like
+these, books are neither meat, drink, nor fire; and I know I can't
+afford them. Now, I'm as willing to contribute my part to the minister's
+salary, and every other charity, as any body, when I can get money to do
+it; but in these times I _can't_ get it."
+
+The elderly gentleman here interrupted the conversation by saying,
+abruptly, "I am a townsman of Mr. Stanton's, and it is _my_ opinion that
+_he_ has impoverished himself by giving in religious charity."
+
+"Giving in charity!" exclaimed several voices; "where did he ever get
+any thing to give?"
+
+"Yet I think I speak within bounds," said the old gentleman, "when I say
+that he has given more than the amount of two thousand dollars yearly to
+the support of the gospel in this state; and I think I can show it to be
+so."
+
+The eyes of the auditors were now enlarged to their utmost limits, while
+the old gentleman, after the fashion of shrewd old gentlemen generally,
+screwed up his mouth in a very dry twist, and looked in the fire without
+saying a word.
+
+"Come now, pray tell us how this is," said several of the company.
+
+"Well, sir," said the old man, addressing himself to Mr. C., "you are a
+man of business, and will perhaps understand the case as I view it. You
+were speaking this evening of lawyer Lennox. He and your minister were
+both from my native place, and both there and in college your minister
+was always reckoned the smartest of the two, and went ahead in every
+thing they undertook. Now, you see Mr. Lennox, out of his talents and
+education, makes say three thousand a year. Mr. Stanton had more talent,
+and more education, and might have made even more; but by devoting
+himself to the work of the ministry in your state, he gains, we will
+say, about four hundred dollars. Does he not, therefore, in fact, give
+all the difference between four hundred and three thousand to the cause
+of religion in this state? If, during the business season of the year,
+you, Mr. C., should devote your whole time to some benevolent
+enterprise, would you not feel that you had virtually given to that
+enterprise all the money you would otherwise have made? Instead,
+therefore, of calling it a charity for you to subscribe to your
+minister's support, you ought to consider it a very expensive charity
+for him to devote his existence in preaching to you. To bring the gospel
+to your state, he has given up a reasonable prospect of an income of two
+or three thousand, and contents himself with the least sum which will
+keep soul and body together, without the possibility of laying up a cent
+for his family in case of his sickness and death. This, sir, is what _I_
+call giving in charity."
+
+
+
+
+THE ELDER'S FEAST.
+
+A TRADITION OF LAODICEA.
+
+
+At a certain time in the earlier ages there lived in the city of
+Laodicea a Christian elder of some repute, named Onesiphorus. The world
+had smiled on him, and though a Christian, he was rich and full of
+honors. All men, even the heathen, spoke well of him, for he was a man
+courteous of speech and mild of manner.
+
+His wife, a fair Ionian lady but half reclaimed from idolatry, though
+baptized and accredited as a member of the Christian church, still
+lingered lovingly on the confines of old heathenism, and if she did not
+believe, still cherished with pleasure the poetic legends of Apollo and
+Venus, of Jove and Diana.
+
+A large and fair family of sons and daughters had risen around these
+parents; but their education had been much after the rudiments of this
+world, and not after Christ. Though, according to the customs of the
+church, they were brought to the font of baptism, and sealed in the name
+of the Father, and the Son, and Holy Ghost, and although daily, instead
+of libations to the Penates, or flower offerings to Diana and Juno, the
+name of Jesus was invoked, yet the _spirit_ of Jesus was wanting. The
+chosen associates of all these children, as they grew older, were among
+the heathen; and daily they urged their parents, by their entreaties, to
+conform, in one thing after another, to heathen usage. "Why should we be
+singular, mother?" said the dark-eyed Myrrah, as she bound her hair and
+arranged her dress after the fashion of the girls in the temple of
+Venus. "Why may we not wear the golden ornaments and images which have
+been consecrated to heathen goddesses?" said the sprightly Thalia;
+"surely none others are to be bought, and are we to do altogether
+without?" "And why may we not be at feasts where libations are made to
+Apollo or Jupiter?" said the sons; "so long as we do not consent to it
+or believe in it, will our faith be shaken thereby?" "How are we ever to
+reclaim the heathen, if we do not mingle among them?" said another son;
+"did not our Master eat with publicans and sinners?"
+
+It was, however, to be remarked, that no conversions of the heathen to
+Christianity ever took place through the means of these complying sons
+and daughters, or any of the number who followed their example. Instead
+of withdrawing any from the confines of heathenism, they themselves were
+drawn so nearly over, that in certain situations and circumstances they
+would undoubtedly have been ranked among them by any but a most
+scrutinizing observer. If any in the city of Laodicea were ever led to
+unite themselves with Jesus, it was by means of a few who observed the
+full simplicity of the ancient faith, and who, though honest, tender,
+and courteous in all their dealings with the heathen, still went not a
+step with them in conformity to any of their customs.
+
+In time, though the family we speak of never broke off from the
+Christian church, yet if you had been in it, you might have heard much
+warm and earnest conversation about things that took place at the baths,
+or in feasts to various divinities; but if any one spoke of Jesus, there
+was immediately a cold silence, a decorous, chilling, respectful pause,
+after which the conversation, with a bound, flew back into the old
+channel again.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was now night; and the house of Onesiphorus the Elder was blazing
+with torches, alive with music, and all the hurry and stir of a
+sumptuous banquet. All the wealth and fashion of Laodicea were there,
+Christian and heathen; and all that the classic voluptuousness of
+Oriental Greece could give to shed enchantment over the scene was there.
+In ancient times the festivals of Christians in Laodicea had been
+regulated in the spirit of the command of Jesus, as recorded by Luke,
+whose classical Greek had made his the established version in Asia
+Minor. "And thou, when thou makest a feast, call not thy friends and thy
+kinsmen, nor thy rich neighbors, lest they also bid thee, and a
+recompense be made thee. But when thou makest a feast, call the poor,
+and the maimed, and the lame, and the blind, and thou shalt be blessed;
+for they cannot recompense thee, but thou shalt be recompensed at the
+resurrection of the just."
+
+That very day, before the entertainment, had this passage been quoted in
+the ears of the family by Cleon, the youngest son, who, different from
+all his family, had cherished in his bosom the simplicity of the old
+belief.
+
+"How ridiculous! how absurd!" had been the reply of the more thoughtless
+members of the family, when Cleon cited the above passage as in point to
+the evening's entertainment. The dark-eyed mother looked reproof on the
+levity of the younger children, and decorously applauded the passage,
+which she said had no application to the matter in hand.
+
+"But, mother, even if the passage be not literally taken, it must mean
+_something_. What did the Lord Jesus intend by it? If we Christians may
+make entertainments with all the parade and expense of our heathen
+neighbors, and thus spend the money that might be devoted to charity,
+what does this passage mean?"
+
+"Your father gives in charity as handsomely as any Christian in
+Laodicea," said his mother warmly.
+
+"Nay, mother, that may be; but I bethink me now of two or three times
+when means have been wanting for the relieving of the poor, and the
+ransoming of captives, and the support of apostles, when we have said
+that we could give no more."
+
+"My son," said his mother, "you do not understand the ways of the
+world."
+
+"Nay, how should he?" said Thalia, "shut up day and night with that old
+papyrus of St. Luke and Paul's Epistles. One may have too much of a good
+thing."
+
+"But does not the holy Paul say, 'Be not conformed to this world'?"
+
+"Certainly," said the elder; "that means that we should be baptized, and
+not worship in the heathen temples."
+
+"My dear son," said his mother, "you intend well, doubtless; but you
+have not sufficient knowledge of life to estimate our relations to
+society. Entertainments of this sort are absolutely necessary to sustain
+our position in the world. If we accept, we must return them."
+
+But not to dwell on this conversation, let us suppose ourselves in the
+rooms now glittering with lights, and gay with every costly luxury of
+wealth and taste. Here were statues to Diana and Apollo, and to the
+household Juno--not meant for worship--of course not--but simply to
+conform to the general usages of good society; and so far had this
+complaisance been carried, that the shrine of a peerless Venus was
+adorned with garlands and votive offerings, and an exquisitely wrought
+silver censer diffused its perfume on the marble altar in front. This
+complaisance on the part of some of the younger members of the family
+drew from the elder a gentle remonstrance, as having an unseemly
+appearance for those bearing the Christian name; but they readily
+answered, "Has not Paul said, 'We know that an idol is nothing'? Where
+is the harm of an elegant statue, considered merely as a consummate work
+of art? As for the flowers, are they not simply the most appropriate
+ornament? And where is the harm of burning exquisite perfume? And is it
+worse to burn it in one place than another?"
+
+"Upon my sword," said one of the heathen guests, as he wandered through
+the gay scene, "how liberal and accommodating these Christians are
+becoming! Except in a few small matters in the temple, they seem to be
+with us entirely."
+
+"Ah," said another, "it was not so years back. Nothing was heard among
+them, then, but prayers, and alms, and visits to the poor and sick; and
+when they met together in their feasts, there was so much of their talk
+of Christ, and such singing of hymns and prayer, that one of us found
+himself quite out of place."
+
+"Yes," said an old man present, "in those days I quite bethought me of
+being some day a Christian; but look you, they are grown so near like us
+now, it is scarce worth one's while to change. A little matter of
+ceremony in the temple, and offering incense to Jesus, instead of
+Jupiter, when all else is the same, can make small odds in a man."
+
+But now, the ancient legend goes on to say, that in the midst of that
+gay and brilliant evening, a stranger of remarkable appearance and
+manners was noticed among the throng. None knew him, or whence he came.
+He mingled not in the mirth, and seemed to recognize no one present,
+though he regarded all that was passing with a peculiar air of still and
+earnest attention; and wherever he moved, his calm, penetrating gaze
+seemed to diffuse a singular uneasiness about him. Now his eye was fixed
+with a quiet scrutiny on the idolatrous statues, with their votive
+adornments--now it followed earnestly the young forms that were
+wreathing in the graceful waves of the dance; and then he turned towards
+the tables, loaded with every luxury and sparkling with wines, where the
+devotion to Bacchus became more than poetic fiction; and as he gazed, a
+high, indignant sorrow seemed to overshadow the calmness of his majestic
+face. When, in thoughtless merriment, some of the gay company sought to
+address him, they found themselves shrinking involuntarily from the
+soft, piercing eye, and trembling at the low, sweet tones in which he
+replied. What he spoke was brief; but there was a gravity and tender
+wisdom in it that strangely contrasted with the frivolous scene, and
+awakened unwonted ideas of heavenly purity even in thoughtless and
+dissipated minds.
+
+The only one of the company who seemed to seek his society was the
+youngest, the fair little child Isa. She seemed as strangely attracted
+towards him as others were repelled; and when, unsolicited, in the frank
+confidence of childhood she pressed to his side, and placed her little
+hand in his, the look of radiant compassion and tenderness which beamed
+down from those eyes was indeed glorious to behold. Yet here and there,
+as he glided among the crowd, he spoke in the ear of some Christian
+words which, though soft and low, seemed to have a mysterious and
+startling power; for one after another, pensive, abashed, and
+confounded, they drew aside from the gay scene, and seemed lost in
+thought. That stranger--who was he? Who? The inquiry passed from mouth
+to mouth, and one and another, who had listened to his low, earnest
+tones, looked on each other with a troubled air. Ere long he had glided
+hither and thither in the crowd; he had spoken in the ear of every
+Christian--and suddenly again he was gone, and they saw him no more.
+Each had felt the heart thrill within--each spirit had vibrated as if
+the finger of its Creator had touched it, and shrunk conscious as if an
+omniscient eye were upon it. Each heart was stirred from its depths.
+Vain sophistries, worldly maxims, making the false look true, all
+appeared to rise and clear away like a mist; and at once each one seemed
+to see, as God sees, the true state of the inner world, the true motive
+and reason of action, and in the instinctive pause that passed through
+the company, the banquet was broken up and deserted.
+
+"And what if their God were present?" said one of the heathen members of
+the company, next day. "Why did they all look so blank? A most favorable
+omen, we should call it, to have one's patron divinity at a feast."
+
+"Besides," said another, "these Christians hold that their God is always
+every where present; so, at most, they have but had their eyes opened to
+see Him who is always there!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+What is practically the meaning of the precept, "Be not conformed to the
+world?" In its every-day results, it presents many problems difficult of
+solution. There are so many shades and blendings of situation and
+circumstances, so many things, innocent and graceful in themselves,
+which, like flowers and incense on a heathen altar, become unchristian
+only through position and circumstances, that the most honest and
+well-intentioned are often perplexed.
+
+That we must conform in some things, is conceded; yet the whole tenor of
+the New Testament shows that this conformity must have its limits--that
+Christians are to be _transformed_, so as to exhibit to the world a
+higher and more complete style of life, and thus "_prove_ what is the
+good, and acceptable, and perfect will of God."
+
+But in many particulars as to style of living and modes of social
+intercourse, there can be no definite rules laid down, and no Christian
+can venture to judge another by his standard.
+
+One Christian condemns dress adornment, and the whole application of
+taste to the usages of life, as a sinful waste of time and money.
+Another, perceiving in every work of God a love and appreciation of the
+beautiful, believes that there is a sphere in which he is pleased to see
+the same trait in his children, if the indulgence do not become
+excessive, and thus interfere with higher duties.
+
+One condemns all time and expense laid out in social visiting as so much
+waste. Another remembers that Jesus, when just entering on the most vast
+and absorbing work, turned aside to attend a wedding feast, and wrought
+his first miracle to enhance its social enjoyment. Again, there are
+others who, because _some_ indulgence of taste and some exercise for the
+social powers are admissible, go all lengths in extravagance, and in
+company, dress, and the externals of life.
+
+In the same manner, with regard to style of life and social
+entertainment--most of the items which go to constitute what is called
+style of living, or the style of particular parties, may be in
+themselves innocent, and yet they may be so interwoven and combined with
+evils, that the whole effect shall be felt to be decidedly unchristian,
+both by Christians and the world. How, then, shall the well-disposed
+person know where to stop, and how to strike the just medium?
+
+We know of but one safe rule: read the life of Jesus with
+attention--_study_ it--inquire earnestly with yourself, "What sort of a
+person, in thought, in feeling, in action, was my Savior?"--live in
+constant sympathy and communion with him--and there will be within a
+kind of instinctive rule by which to try all things. A young man, who
+was to be exposed to the temptations of one of the most dissipated
+European capitals, carried with him his father's picture, and hung it in
+his apartment. Before going out to any of the numerous resorts of the
+city, he was accustomed to contemplate this picture, and say to himself,
+"Would my father wish to see me in the place to which I am going?" and
+thus was he saved from many a temptation. In like manner the Christian,
+who has always by his side the beautiful ideal of his Savior, finds it a
+holy charm, by which he is gently restrained from all that is unsuitable
+to his profession. He has but to inquire of any scene or employment,
+"Should I be well pleased to meet my Savior there? Would the trains of
+thought I should there fall into, the state of mind that would there be
+induced, be such as would harmonize with an interview with him?" Thus
+protected and defended, social enjoyment might be like that of Mary and
+John, and the disciples, when, under the mild, approving eye of the Son
+of God, they shared the festivities of Cana.
+
+
+
+
+LITTLE FRED, THE CANAL BOY.
+
+
+PART I.
+
+In the outskirts of the little town of Toledo, in Ohio, might be seen a
+small, one-story cottage, whose external architecture no way
+distinguished it from dozens of other residences of the poor, by which
+it was surrounded. But over this dwelling, a presiding air of sanctity
+and neatness, of quiet and repose, marked it out as different from every
+other.
+
+The little patch before the door, instead of being a loafing ground for
+swine, and a receptacle of litter and filth, was trimly set with
+flowers, weeded, watered, and fenced with dainty care. The scarlet
+bignonia clambered over the mouldering logs of the sides, shrouding
+their roughness in its gorgeous mantle of green and crimson, and the
+good old-fashioned morning glory, laced across the window, unfolded,
+every day, tints whose beauty, though cheap and common, the finest
+French milliner might in vain seek to rival.
+
+When, in travelling the western country, you meet such a dwelling, do
+you not instinctively know what you shall see inside of it? Do you not
+seem to see the trimly-sanded floor, the well-kept furniture, the snowy
+muslin curtain? Are you not sure that on a neat stand you shall see, as
+on an altar, the dear old family Bible, brought, like the ancient ark of
+the covenant, into the far wilderness, and ever overshadowed, as a
+bright cloud, with remembered prayers and counsels of father and mother,
+in a far off New England home?
+
+And in this cottage there was such a Bible, brought from the wild hills
+of New Hampshire, and its middle page recorded the marriage of James
+Sandford to Mary Irving; and alas! after it another record, traced in a
+trembling hand--the death of James Sandford, at Toledo. And this fair,
+thin woman, in the black dress, with soft brown hair parted over a pale
+forehead, with calm, patient blue eyes, and fading cheek, is the once
+energetic, buoyant, light-hearted New Hampshire girl, who has brought
+with her the strongest religious faith, the active practical knowledge,
+the skilful, well-trained hand and clear head, with which cold New
+England portions her daughters. She had left all, and come to the
+western wilds with no other capital than her husband's manly heart and
+active brain--he young, strong, full of hope, prompt, energetic, and
+skilled to acquire--she careful, prudent, steady, no less skilled to
+save; and between the two no better firm for acquisition and prospective
+success could be desired. Every body prophesied that James Sandford
+would succeed, and Mary heard these praises with a quiet exultation. But
+alas! that whole capital of hers--that one strong, young heart, that
+ready, helpful hand--two weeks of the country's fever sufficed to lay
+them cold and low forever.
+
+And Mary yet lived, with her babe in her arms, and one bright little boy
+by her side; and this boy is our little brown-eyed Fred--the hero of our
+story. But few years had rolled over his curly head, when he first
+looked, weeping and wondering, on the face of death. Ah, one look on
+that awful face adds years at once to the age of the heart; and little
+Fred felt manly thoughts aroused in him by the cold stillness of his
+father, and the deep, calm anguish of his mother.
+
+"O mamma, don't cry so, don't," said the little fellow. "I am alive, and
+I can take care of you. Dear mamma, I pray for you every day." And Mary
+was comforted even in her tears and thought, as she looked into those
+clear, loving brown eyes, that her little intercessor would not plead in
+vain; for saith Jesus, "Their angels do always behold the face of my
+Father which is in heaven."
+
+In a few days she learned to look her sorrows calmly in the face, like a
+brave, true woman, as she was. She was a widow, and out of the sudden
+wreck of her husband's plans but a pittance remained to her, and she
+cast about, with busy hand and head, for some means to eke it out. She
+took in sewing--she took in washing and ironing; and happy did the young
+exquisite deem himself, whose shirts came with such faultless plaits,
+such snowy freshness, from the slender hands of Mary. With that
+matchless gift which old Yankee housewives call faculty, Mary kept
+together all the ends of her ravelled skein of life, and began to make
+them wind smoothly. Her baby was the neatest of all babies, as it was
+assuredly the prettiest, and her little Fred the handiest and most
+universal genius of all boys. It was Fred that could wring out all the
+stockings, and hang out all the small clothes, that tended the baby by
+night and by day, that made her a wagon out of an old soap box, in which
+he drew her in triumph; and at their meals he stood reverently in his
+father's place, and with folded hands repeated, "Bless the Lord, O my
+soul, and forget not all his mercies;" and his mother's heart responded
+amen to the simple prayer. Then he learned, with manifold puffing and
+much haggling, to saw wood quite decently, and to swing an axe almost as
+big as himself in wood splitting; and he ran of errands, and did
+business with an air of bustling importance that was edifying to see; he
+knew the prices of lard, butter, and dried apples, as well as any man
+about, and, as the store-keeper approvingly told him, was a smart chap
+at a bargain. Fred grew three inches higher the moment he heard it.
+
+In the evenings after the baby was asleep, Fred sat by his mother with
+slate and book, deep in the mysteries of reading, writing, and
+ciphering; and then the mother and son talked over their little plans,
+and hallowed their nightly rest by prayer; and when, before retiring,
+his mother knelt with him by his little bed and prayed, the child often
+sobbed with a strange emotion, for which he could give no reason.
+Something there is in the voice of real prayer that thrills a child's
+heart, even before he understands it; the holy tones are a kind of
+heavenly music, and far off in distant years, the callous and worldly
+man, often thrills to his heart's core, when some turn of life recalls
+to him his mother's prayer.
+
+So passed the first years of the life of Fred. Meanwhile his little
+sister had come to toddle about the cottage floor, full of insatiable
+and immeasurable schemes of mischief. It was she that upset the clothes
+basket, and pulled over the molasses pitcher on to her own astonished
+head, and with incredible labor upset every pail of water that by
+momentary thoughtlessness was put within reach. It was she that was
+found stuffing poor, solemn old pussy head first into the water jar,
+that wiped up the floor with her mother's freshly-ironed clothes, and
+jabbered meanwhile, in most unexampled Babylonish dialect, her own
+vindications and explanations of these misdemeanors. Every day her
+mother declared that she must begin to get that child into some kind of
+order; but still the merry little curly pate contemned law and order,
+and laughed at all ideas of retributive justice, and Fred and his mother
+laughed and deplored, in the same invariable succession, the various
+direful results of her activity and enterprise.
+
+But still, as Mary toiled on, heavy cares weighed down her heart. Her
+boy grew larger and larger, and her own health grew feebler in
+proportion as it needed to be stronger. Sometimes a whole week at a time
+found her scarce able to crawl from her bed, shaking with ague, or
+burning with fever; and when there is little or nothing with which to
+replace them, how fast food seems to be consumed, and clothing to be
+worn out! And so at length it came to pass that, notwithstanding the
+labors of the most tireless of needles, and the cutting, clipping, and
+contriving of the most ingenious of hands, the poor mother was forced to
+own to herself that her darlings looked really shabby, and kind
+neighbors one by one hinted and said that she must do something with her
+boy--that he was old enough to earn his own living; and the same idea
+occurred to the spirited little fellow himself.
+
+He had often been along by the side of the canal, and admired the
+horses; for between a horse and Fred there was a perfect magnetic
+sympathy, and no lot in life looked to him so bright and desirable as to
+be able to sit on a horse and drive all day long; and when Captain W.,
+pleased with the boy's bright face and prompt motions, sought to enlist
+him as one of his drivers, he found a delighted listener. "If he could
+only persuade mother, there was nothing like it." For many nights after
+the matter was proposed, Mary only cried; and all Fred's eloquence, and
+his brave promises of never doing any thing wrong, and being the best of
+all supposable boys, were insufficient to console her.
+
+Every time she looked at the neat, pure little bed, beside her own, that
+bed hallowed by so many prayers, and saw her boy, with his glowing
+cheeks and long and dark lashes, sleeping so innocently and trustfully,
+her heart died within her, as she thought of a dirty berth on the canal
+boat, and rough boatmen, swearing, chewing tobacco, and drinking; and
+should she take her darling from her bosom and throw him out among
+these? Ah, happy mother! look at your little son of ten years, and ask
+yourself, if you were obliged to do this, should you not tremble! Give
+God thanks, therefore, you can hold your child to your heart till he is
+old enough to breast the dark wave of life. The poor must throw them in,
+to sink or swim, as happens. Not for ease--not for freedom from
+care--not for commodious house and fine furniture, and all that
+competence gives, should you thank God so much as for this, that you are
+able to shelter, guide, restrain, and educate the helpless years of your
+children.
+
+Mary yielded at last to that master who can subdue all wills--necessity.
+Sorrowfully, yet with hope in God, she made up the little package for
+her boy, and communicated to him with renewed minuteness her parting
+counsels and instructions. Fred was bright and full of hope. He was sure
+of the great point about which his mother's anxiety clustered--he should
+be a good boy, he knew he should; he never should swear; he never should
+touch a drop of spirits, no matter who asked him--that he was sure of.
+Then he liked horses so much: he should ride all day and never get
+tired, and he would come back and bring her some money; and so the boy
+and his mother parted.
+
+Physical want or hardship is not the great thing which a mother need
+dread for her child in our country. There is scarce any situation in
+America where a child would not receive, as a matter of course, good
+food and shelter; nor is he often overworked. In these respects a
+general spirit of good nature is perceptible among employers, so that
+our Fred meets none of the harrowing adventures of an Oliver Twist in
+his new situation.
+
+To be sure he soon found it was not as good fun to ride a horse hour
+after hour, and day after day, as it was to prance and caper about for
+the first few minutes. At first his back ached, and his little hands
+grew stiff, and he wished his turn were out, hours before the time; but
+time mended all this. He grew healthy and strong, and though
+occasionally kicked and tumbled about rather unceremoniously by the
+rough men among whom he had been cast, yet, as they said, "he was a chap
+that always came down on his feet, throw him which way you would;" and
+for this reason he was rather a favorite among them. The fat, black
+cook, who piqued himself particularly on making corn cake and singing
+Methodist hymns in a style of unsurpassed excellence, took Fred into
+particular favor, and being equally at home in kitchen and camp meeting
+lore, not only put by for him various dainty scraps and fragments, but
+also undertook to further his moral education by occasional luminous
+exhortations and expositions of Scripture, which somewhat puzzled poor
+Fred, and greatly amused the deck hands.
+
+Often, after driving all day, Fred sat on deck beside his fat friend,
+while the boat glided on through miles and miles of solemn, unbroken old
+woods, and heard him sing about "de New Jerusalem," about "good old
+Moses, and Paul, and Silas," with a kind of dreamy, wild pleasure. To be
+sure it was not like his mother's singing; but then it had a sort of
+good sound, although he never could very precisely make out the meaning.
+
+As to being a good boy, Fred, to do him justice, certainly tried to very
+considerable purpose. He did not swear as yet, although he heard so much
+of it daily that it seemed the most natural thing in the world; and
+although one and another of the hands often offered him tempting
+portions of their potations, as they said, "to make a man of him," yet
+Fred faithfully kept his little temperance pledge to his mother. Many a
+weary hour, as he rode, and rode, and rode through hundreds of miles of
+unvarying forest, he strengthened his good resolutions by thoughts of
+home and its scenes.
+
+There sat his mother; there stood his own little bed; there his baby
+sister, toddling about in her night gown; and he repeated the prayers
+and sung the hymns his mother taught him, and thus the good seed still
+grew within him. In fact, with no very distinguished adventures, Fred
+achieved the journey to Cincinnati and back, and proud of his laurels,
+and with his wages in his pocket, found himself again at the familiar
+door.
+
+Poor Fred! a sad surprise awaited him. The elfin shadow that was once
+ever flitting about the dwelling was gone; the little pattering
+footsteps, the tireless, busy fingers, all gone! and his mother, paler,
+sicker, sadder than before, clasped him to her bosom, and called him her
+only comfort. Fred had brought a pocket full of sugar plums, and the
+brightest of yellow oranges to his little pet; alas! how mournfully he
+regarded them now!
+
+How little do we realize, when we hear that such and such a poor woman
+has lost her baby, how much is implied to her in the loss! She is poor;
+she must work hard; the child was a great addition to her cares; and
+even pitying neighbors say, "It was better for her, poor thing! and for
+the child too." But perhaps this very child was the only flower of a
+life else wholly barren and desolate. There is often, even in the
+humblest and most uncultured nature, an undefined longing and pining for
+the beautiful. It expresses itself sometimes in the love of birds and of
+flowers, and one sees the rosebush or the canary bird in a dwelling from
+which is banished every trace of luxury. But the little child, with its
+sweet, spiritual eyes, its thousand bird-like tones, its prattling,
+endearing ways, its guileless, loving heart, is a full and perfect
+answer to the most ardent craving of the soul. It is a whole little Eden
+of itself; and the poor woman whose whole life else is one dreary waste
+of toil, clasps her babe to her bosom, and feels proud, and rich, and
+happy. Truly said the Son of God, "Of such are the kingdom of heaven."
+
+Poor Mary! how glad she was to see her boy again--most of all, that they
+could talk together of their lost one! How they discoursed for hours
+about her! How they cried together over the little faded bonnet, that
+once could scarce be kept for a moment on the busy, curly head! How they
+treasured, as relics, the small finger marks on the doors, and
+consecrated with sacred care even the traces of her merry mischief about
+the cottage, and never tired of telling over to each other, with smiles
+and tears, the record of the past gleesome pranks!
+
+But the fact was, that Mary herself was fast wearing away. She had borne
+up bravely against life; but she had but a gentle nature, and gradually
+she sank from day to day. Fred was her patient, unwearied nurse, and
+neighbors--never wanting in such kindnesses as they can
+understand--supplied her few wants. The child never wanted for food, and
+the mantle shelf was filled with infallible specifics, each one of which
+was able, according to the showing, to insure perfect recovery in every
+case whatever; and yet, strange to tell, she still declined. At last,
+one still autumn morning, Fred awoke, and started at the icy coldness of
+the hand clasped in his own. He looked in his mother's face; it was
+sweet and calm as that of a sleeping infant, but he knew in his heart
+that she was dead.
+
+
+PART II.
+
+Months afterwards, a cold December day found Fred turned loose in the
+streets of Cincinnati. Since his mother's death he had driven on the
+canal boat; but now the boat was to lie by for winter, and the hands of
+course turned loose to find employment till spring. Fred was told that
+he must look up a place; every body was busy about their own affairs,
+and he must shift for himself; and so with half his wages in his pocket,
+and promises for the rest, he started to seek his fortune.
+
+It was a cold, cheerless, gray-eyed day, with an air that pinched
+fingers and toes, and seemed to penetrate one's clothes like snow
+water--such a day as it needs the brightest fire and the happiest heart
+to get along at all with; and, unluckily, Fred had neither. Christmas
+was approaching, and all the shops had put on their holiday dresses; the
+confectioners' windows were glittering with sparkling pyramids of candy,
+with frosted cake, and unfading fruits and flowers of the very best of
+sugar. There, too, was Santa Claus, large as life, with queer, wrinkled
+visage, and back bowed with the weight of all desirable knickknacks,
+going down chimney, in sight of all the children of Cincinnati, who
+gathered around the shop with constantly-renewed acclamations. On all
+sides might be seen the little people, thronging, gazing, chattering,
+while anxious papas and mammas in the shops were gravely discussing tin
+trumpets, dolls, spades, wheelbarrows, and toy wagons.
+
+Fred never had heard of the man who said, "How sad a thing it is to look
+into happiness through another man's eyes!" but he felt something very
+like it as he moved through the gay and bustling streets, where every
+body seemed to be finding what they wanted but himself.
+
+He had determined to keep up a stout heart; but in spite of himself, all
+this bustling show and merriment made him feel sadder and sadder, and
+lonelier and lonelier. He knocked and rang at door after door, but
+nobody wanted a boy: nobody ever does want a boy when a boy is wanting a
+place. He got tired of ringing door bells, and tried some of the shops.
+No, they didn't want him. One said if he was bigger he might do; another
+wanted to know if he could keep accounts; one thought that the man
+around the corner wanted a boy, and when Fred got there he had just
+engaged one. Weary, disappointed, and discouraged, he sat down by the
+iron railing that fenced a showy house, and thought what he should do.
+It was almost five in the afternoon: cold, dismal, leaden-gray was the
+sky--the darkness already coming on. Fred sat listlessly watching the
+great snow feathers, as they slowly sailed down from the sky. Now he
+heard gay laughs, as groups of merry children passed; and then he
+started, as he saw some woman in a black bonnet, and thought she looked
+like his mother. But all passed, and nobody looked at him, nobody wanted
+him, nobody noticed him.
+
+Just then a patter of little feet was heard behind him on the
+flagstones, and a soft, baby voice said, "How do 'oo do?" Fred turned in
+amazement; and there stood a plump, rosy little creature of about two
+years, with dimpled cheek, ruby lips, and long, fair hair curling about
+her sweet face. She was dressed in a blue pelisse, trimmed with swan's
+down, and her complexion was so exquisitely fair, her eyes so clear and
+sweet, that Fred felt almost as if it were an angel. The little thing
+toddled up to him, and holding up before him a new wax doll, all
+splendid in silk and lace, seemed quite disposed to make his
+acquaintance. Fred thought of his lost sister, and his eyes filled up
+with tears. The little one put up one dimpled hand to wipe them away,
+while with the other holding up before him the wax doll, she said,
+coaxingly, "No no ky."
+
+Just then the house door opened, and a lady, richly dressed, darted out,
+exclaiming, "Why, Mary, you little rogue, how came you out here?" Then
+stopping short, and looking narrowly on Fred, she said, somewhat
+sharply, "Whose boy are you? and how came you here?"
+
+"I'm nobody's boy," said Fred, getting up, with a bitter choking in his
+throat; "my mother's dead; I only sat down here to rest me for a while."
+
+"Well, run away from here," said the lady; but the little girl pressed
+before her mother, and jabbering very earnestly in unimaginable English,
+seemed determined to give Fred her wax doll, in which, she evidently
+thought, resided every possible consolation.
+
+The lady felt in her pocket and found a quarter, which she threw towards
+Fred. "There, my boy, that will get you lodging and supper, and
+to-morrow you can find some place to work, I dare say;" and she hurried
+in with the little girl, and shut the door.
+
+It was not money that Fred wanted just then, and he picked up the
+quarter with a heavy heart. The sky looked darker, and the street
+drearier, and the cold wind froze the tear on his cheeks as he walked
+listlessly down the street in the dismal twilight.
+
+"I can go back to the canal boat, and find the cook," he thought to
+himself. "He told me I might sleep with him to-night if I couldn't find
+a place;" and he quickened his steps with this determination. Just as he
+was passing a brightly-lighted coffee house, familiar voices hailed him,
+and Fred stopped; he would be glad even to see a dog he had ever met
+before, and of course he was glad when two boys, old canal boat
+acquaintances, hailed him, and invited him into the coffee house. The
+blazing fire was a brave light on that dismal night, and the faces of
+the two boys were full of glee, and they began rallying Fred on his
+doleful appearance, and insisting on it that he should take something
+warm with them.
+
+Fred hesitated a moment; but he was tired and desperate, and the
+steaming, well-sweetened beverage was too tempting. "Who cares for me?"
+thought he, "and why should I care?" and down went the first spirituous
+liquor the boy had ever tasted; and in a few moments, he felt a
+wonderful change. He was no longer a timid, cold, disheartened,
+heart-sick boy, but felt somehow so brave, so full of hope and courage,
+that he began to swagger, to laugh very loud, and to boast in such high
+terms of the money in his pocket, and of his future intentions and
+prospects, that the two boys winked significantly at each other. They
+proposed, after sitting a while, to walk out and see the shop windows.
+All three of the boys had taken enough to put them to extra merriment;
+but Fred, who was entirely unused to the stimulant, was quite beside
+himself. If they sung, he shouted; if they laughed, he screamed; and he
+thought within himself he never had heard and thought so many witty
+things as on that very evening. At last they fell in with quite a press
+of boys, who were crowding round a confectionery window, and, as usual
+in such cases, there began an elbowing and scuffling contest for places,
+in which Fred was quite conspicuous. At last a big boy presumed on his
+superior size to edge in front of our hero, and cut off his prospect;
+and Fred, without more ado, sent him smashing through the shop window.
+There was a general scrabble, every one ran for himself, and Fred, never
+having been used to the business, was not very skilful in escaping, and
+of course was caught, and committed to an officer, who, with small
+ceremony, carried him off and locked him up in the watch house, from
+which he was the next morning taken before the mayor, and after
+examination sent to jail.
+
+This sobered Fred. He came to himself as out of a dream, and he was
+overwhelmed with an agony of shame and self-reproach. He had broken his
+promise to his dead mother--he had been drinking! and his heart failed
+him when he thought of the horrors that his mother had always associated
+with that word. And then he was in jail--that place that his mother had
+always represented as an almost impossible horror, the climax of shame
+and disgrace. The next night the poor boy stretched himself on his hard,
+lonely bed, and laid under his head his little bundle, containing his
+few clothes and his mother's Bible, and then sobbed himself to sleep.
+
+Cold and gray dawned the following morning on little Fred, as he slowly
+and heavily awoke, and with a bitter chill of despair recalled the
+events of the last two nights, and looked up at the iron-grated window,
+and round on the cheerless walls; and, as if in bitter contrast, arose
+before him an image of his lost home--the neat, quiet room, the white
+curtains and snowy floor, his mother's bed, with his own little cot
+beside it, and his mother's mild blue eyes, as they looked upon him only
+six months ago. Mechanically he untied the check handkerchief which
+contained his few clothes, and worldly possessions, and relics of home.
+
+There was the small, clean-printed Bible his mother had given him with
+so many tears on their first parting; there was a lock of her soft brown
+hair; there, too, were a pair of little worn shoes and stockings, a
+baby's rattle, and a curl of golden hair, which he had laid up in memory
+of his lost little pet. Fred laid his head down over all these, his
+forlorn treasures, and sobbed as if his heart would break.
+
+After a while the jailer came in, and really seemed affected by the
+distress of the child, and said what he could to console him; and in the
+course of the day, as the boy "seemed to be so lonesome like," he
+introduced another boy into the room as company for him. This was a
+cruel mercy; for while the child was alone with himself and the memories
+of the past, he was, if sad, at least safe, and in a few hours after
+this new introduction he was neither. His new companion was a tall boy
+of fourteen, with small, cunning, gray eyes, to which a slight cast gave
+an additional expression of shrewdness and drollery. He was a young
+gentleman of great natural talent,--in a certain line,--with very
+precocious attainments in all that kind of information which a boy gains
+by running at large for several years in a city's streets without any
+thing particular to do, or any body in particular to obey--any
+conscience, any principle, any fear either of God or man. We should not
+say that he had never seen the inside of a church, for he had been, for
+various purposes, into every one of the city, and to every camp meeting
+for miles around; and so much had he profited by these exercises, that
+he could mimic to perfection every minister who had any perceptible
+peculiarity, could caricature every species of psalm-singing, and give
+ludicrous imitations of every form of worship. Then he was _au fait_ in
+all coffee house lore, and knew the names and qualities of every kind of
+beverage therein compounded; and as to smoking and chewing, the first
+elements of which he mastered when he was about six years old, he was
+now a _connoisseur_ in the higher branches. He had been in jail dozens
+of times--rather liked the fun; had served one term on the
+chain-gang--not so bad either--shouldn't mind another--learned a good
+many prime things there.
+
+At first Fred seemed inclined to shrink from his new associate. An
+instinctive feeling, like the warning of an invisible angel, seemed to
+whisper, "Beware!" But he was alone, with a heart full of bitter
+thoughts, and the sight of a fellow-face was some comfort. Then his
+companion was so dashing, so funny, so free and easy, and seemed to make
+such a comfortable matter of being in jail, that Fred's heart, naturally
+buoyant, began to come up again in his breast. Dick Jones soon drew out
+of him his simple history as to how he came there, and finding that he
+was a raw hand, seemed to feel bound to patronize and take him under his
+wing. He laughed quite heartily at Fred's story, and soon succeeded in
+getting him to laugh at it too.
+
+How strange!--the very scenes that in the morning he looked at only with
+bitter anguish and remorse, this noon he was laughing at as good
+jokes--so much for the influence of good society! An instinctive
+feeling, soon after Dick Jones came in, led Fred to push his little
+bundle into the farthest corner, under the bed, far out of sight or
+inquiry; and the same reason led him to suppress all mention of his
+mother, and all the sacred part of his former life. He did this more
+studiously, because, having once accidentally remarked how his mother
+used to forbid him certain things, the well-educated Dick broke out,--
+
+"Well, for my part, I could whip my mother when I wa'n't higher than
+_that_!" with a significant gesture.
+
+"Whip your mother!" exclaimed Fred, with a face full of horror.
+
+"To be sure, greenie! Why not? Precious fun it was in those times. I
+used to slip in and steal the old woman's whiskey and sugar when she was
+just too far over to walk a crack--she'd throw the tongs at me, and I'd
+throw the shovel at her, and so it went square and square."
+
+Goethe says somewhere, "Miserable is that man whose _mother_ has not
+made all other mothers venerable." Our new acquaintance bade fair to
+come under this category.
+
+Fred's education, under this talented instructor, made progress. He sat
+hours and hours laughing at his stories--sometimes obscene, sometimes
+profane, but always so full of life, drollery, and mimicry that a more
+steady head than Fred's was needed to withstand the contagion. Dick had
+been to the theatre--knew it all like a book, and would take Fred there
+as soon as they got out; then he had a first-rate pack of cards, and he
+could teach Fred to play; and the gay tempters were soon spread out on
+their bed, and Fred and his instructor sat hour after hour absorbed in
+what to him was a new world of interest. He soon learned, could play for
+small stakes, and felt in himself the first glimmering of that fire
+which, when fully kindled, many waters cannot quench, nor floods drown!
+
+Dick was, as we said, precocious. He had the cool eye and steady hand of
+an experienced gamester, and in a few days he won, of course, all Fred's
+little earnings. But then he was quite liberal and free with his money.
+He added to their prison fare such various improvements as his abundance
+of money enabled him to buy. He had brought with him the foundation of
+good cheer in a capacious bottle which emerged the first night from his
+pocket, for he said he never went to jail without his provision; then
+hot water, and sugar, and lemons, and peppermint drops were all
+forthcoming for money, and Fred learned once and again, and again, the
+fatal secret of hushing conscience, and memory, and bitter despair in
+delirious happiness, and as Dick said, was "getting to be a right jolly
+'un that would make something yet."
+
+And was it all gone, all washed away by this sudden wave of evil?--every
+trace of prayer, and hope, and sacred memory in this poor child's heart?
+No, not all; for many a night, when his tempter slept by his side, the
+child lived over the past; again he kneeled in prayer, and felt his
+mother's guardian hand on his head, and he wept tears of bitter remorse,
+and wondered at the dread change that had come over him. Then he
+dreamed, and he saw his mother and sister walking in white, fair as
+angels, and would go to them; but between him and them was a great gulf
+fixed, which widened and widened, and grew darker and darker, till he
+could see them no more, and he awoke in utter misery and despair.
+
+Again and again he resolved, in the darkness of the night, that
+to-morrow he would not drink, and he would not speak a wicked word, and
+he would not play cards, nor laugh at Dick's bad stories. Ah, how many
+such midnight resolves have evil angels sneered at and good ones sighed
+over! for with daylight back comes the old temptation, and with it the
+old mind; and with daylight came back the inexorable prison walls which
+held Fred and his successful tempter together.
+
+At last he gave himself up. No, he could not be good with Dick--there
+was no use in trying!--and he made no more midnight resolves, and drank
+more freely of the dreadful remedy for unquiet thoughts.
+
+And now is Fred growing in truth a wicked boy. In a little while more
+and he shall be such a one as you will on no account take under your
+roof, lest he corrupt your own children; and yet, father, mother, look
+at your son of twelve years, your bright, darling boy, and think of him
+shut up for a month with such a companion, in such a cell, and ask
+yourselves if he would be any better.
+
+And was there no eye, heavenly or earthly, to look after this lost one?
+Was there no eye which could see through all the traces of sin, the yet
+lingering drops of that baptism and early prayer and watchfulness which
+consecrated it? Yes; He whose mercy extends to the third and fourth
+generations of those who love him, sent a friend to our poor boy in his
+last distress.
+
+It is one of the most refined and characteristic modifications of
+Christianity, that those who are themselves sheltered, guarded, fenced
+by good education, knowledge, and competence, appoint and sustain a
+pastor and guardian in our large cities to be the shepherd of the
+wandering and lost, and of them who, in the Scripture phrase, "have none
+to help." Justly is he called the "City Missionary," for what is more
+truly missionary ground? In the hospital, among the old, the sick, the
+friendless, the forlorn--in the prison, among the hardened, the
+blaspheming--among the discouraged and despairing, still holding with
+unsteady hand on to some forlorn fragment of virtue and self-respect,
+goes this missionary to stir the dying embers of good, to warn, entreat,
+implore, to adjure by sacred recollections of father, mother, and home,
+the fallen wanderers to return. He finds friends, and places, and
+employment for some, and by timely aid and encouragement saves many a
+one from destruction.
+
+In this friendly shape appeared a man of prayer to visit the cell in
+which Fred was confined. Dick listened to his instructions with cool
+complacency, rolling his tobacco from side to side in his mouth, and
+meditating on him as a subject for some future histrionic exercise of
+his talent.
+
+But his voice was as welcome to poor Fred as daylight in a dungeon. All
+the smothered remorse and despair of his heart burst forth in bitter
+confessions, as, with many tears, he poured forth his story to the
+friendly man. It needs not to prolong our story, for now the day has
+dawned and the hour of release is come.
+
+It is not needful to carry our readers through all the steps by which
+Fred was transferred, first to the fireside of the friendly missionary,
+and afterwards to the guardian care of a good old couple who resided on
+a thriving farm not far from Cincinnati. Set free from evil influences,
+the first carefully planted and watered seeds of good began to grow
+again, and he became as a son to the kind family who had adopted him.
+
+
+
+
+THE CANAL BOAT.
+
+
+Of all the ways of travelling which obtain among our locomotive nation,
+this said vehicle, the canal boat, is the most absolutely prosaic and
+inglorious. There is something picturesque, nay, almost sublime, in the
+lordly march of your well-built, high-bred steamboat. Go, take your
+stand on some overhanging bluff, where the blue Ohio winds its thread of
+silver, or the sturdy Mississippi tears its path through unbroken
+forests, and it will do your heart good to see the gallant boat walking
+the waters with unbroken and powerful tread; and, like some fabled
+monster of the wave, breathing fire, and making the shores resound with
+its deep respirations. Then there is something mysterious, even awful,
+in the power of steam. See it curling up against a blue sky, some rosy
+morning--graceful, floating, intangible, and to all appearance the
+softest and gentlest of all spiritual things; and then think that it is
+this fairy spirit that keeps all the world alive and hot with motion;
+think how excellent a servant it is, doing all sorts of gigantic works,
+like the genii of old; and yet, if you let slip the talisman only for a
+moment, what terrible advantage it will take of you! and you will
+confess that steam has some claims both to the beautiful and the
+terrible. For our own part, when we are down among the machinery of a
+steamboat in full play, we conduct ourself very reverently, for we
+consider it as a very serious neighborhood; and every time the steam
+whizzes with such red-hot determination from the escape valve, we start
+as if some of the spirits were after us. But in a canal boat there is no
+power, no mystery, no danger; one cannot blow up, one cannot be drowned,
+unless by some special effort: one sees clearly all there is in the
+case--a horse, a rope, and a muddy strip of water--and that is all.
+
+Did you ever try it, reader? If not, take an imaginary trip with us,
+just for experiment. "There's the boat!" exclaims a passenger in the
+omnibus, as we are rolling down from the Pittsburg Mansion House to the
+canal. "Where?" exclaim a dozen of voices, and forthwith a dozen heads
+go out of the window. "Why, down there, under that bridge; don't you see
+those lights?" "What! that little thing?" exclaims an inexperienced
+traveller; "dear me! we can't half of us get into it!" "We! indeed,"
+says some old hand in the business; "I think you'll find it will hold us
+and a dozen more loads like us." "Impossible!" say some. "You'll see,"
+say the initiated; and, as soon as you get out, you _do_ see, and hear
+too, what seems like a general breaking loose from the Tower of Babel,
+amid a perfect hail storm of trunks, boxes, valises, carpet bags, and
+every describable and indescribable form of what a westerner calls
+"plunder."
+
+"That's my trunk!" barks out a big, round man. "That's my bandbox!"
+screams a heart-stricken old lady, in terror for her immaculate Sunday
+caps. "Where's my little red box? I had two carpet bags and a--My trunk
+had a scarle--Halloo! where are you going with that portmanteau?
+Husband! husband! do see after the large basket and the little hair
+trunk--O, and the baby's little chair!" "Go below--go below, for mercy's
+sake, my dear; I'll see to the baggage." At last, the feminine part of
+creation, perceiving that, in this particular instance, they gain
+nothing by public speaking, are content to be led quietly under hatches;
+and amusing is the look of dismay which each new comer gives to the
+confined quarters that present themselves. Those who were so ignorant of
+the power of compression as to suppose the boat scarce large enough to
+contain them and theirs, find, with dismay, a respectable colony of old
+ladies, babies, mothers, big baskets, and carpet bags already
+established. "Mercy on us!" says one, after surveying the little room,
+about ten feet long and six high, "where are we all to sleep to-night?"
+"O me! what a sight of children!" says a young lady, in a despairing
+tone. "Poh!" says an initiated traveller; "children! scarce any here;
+let's see: one; the woman in the corner, two; that child with the bread
+and butter, three; and then there's that other woman with two. Really,
+it's quite moderate for a canal boat. However, we can't tell till they
+have all come."
+
+"All! for mercy's sake, you don't say there are any more coming!"
+exclaim two or three in a breath; "they _can't_ come; _there is not
+room_!"
+
+Notwithstanding the impressive utterance of this sentence, the contrary
+is immediately demonstrated by the appearance of a very corpulent,
+elderly lady, with three well-grown daughters, who come down looking
+about them most complacently, entirely regardless of the unchristian
+looks of the company. What a mercy it is that fat people are always good
+natured!
+
+After this follows an indiscriminate raining down of all shapes, sizes,
+sexes, and ages--men, women, children, babies, and nurses. The state of
+feeling becomes perfectly desperate. Darkness gathers on all faces. "We
+shall be smothered! we shall be crowded to death! we _can't stay_ here!"
+are heard faintly from one and another; and yet, though the boat grows
+no wider, the walls no higher, they do live, and do stay there, in spite
+of repeated protestations to the contrary. Truly, as Sam Slick says,
+"there's a _sight of wear_ in human natur'."
+
+But, meanwhile, the children grow sleepy, and divers interesting little
+duets and trios arise from one part or another of the cabin.
+
+"Hush, Johnny! be a good boy," says a pale, nursing mamma, to a great,
+bristling, white-headed phenomenon, who is kicking very much at large in
+her lap.
+
+"I won't be a good boy, neither," responds Johnny, with interesting
+explicitness; "I want to go to bed, and so-o-o-o!" and Johnny makes up a
+mouth as big as a teacup, and roars with good courage, and his mamma
+asks him "if he ever saw pa do so," and tells him that "he is mamma's
+dear, good little boy, and must not make a noise," with various
+observations of the kind, which are so strikingly efficacious in such
+cases. Meanwhile, the domestic concert in other quarters proceeds with
+vigor. "Mamma, I'm tired!" bawls a child. "Where's the baby's night
+gown?" calls a nurse. "Do take Peter up in your lap, and keep him
+still." "Pray get out some biscuits to stop their mouths." Meanwhile,
+sundry babies strike in "con spirito," as the music books have it, and
+execute various flourishes; the disconsolate mothers sigh, and look as
+if all was over with them; and the young ladies appear extremely
+disgusted, and wonder "what business women have to be travelling round
+with babies."
+
+To these troubles succeeds the turning-out scene, when the whole caravan
+is ejected into the gentlemen's cabin, that the beds may be made. The
+red curtains are put down, and in solemn silence all, the last
+mysterious preparations begin. At length it is announced that all is
+ready. Forthwith the whole company rush back, and find the walls
+embellished by a series of little shelves, about a foot wide, each
+furnished with a mattress and bedding, and hooked to the ceiling by a
+very suspiciously slender cord. Direful are the ruminations and
+exclamations of inexperienced travellers, particularly young ones, as
+they eye these very equivocal accommodations. "What, sleep up there! _I_
+won't sleep on one of those top shelves, _I_ know. The cords will
+certainly break." The chambermaid here takes up the conversation, and
+solemnly assures them that such an accident is not to be thought of at
+all; that it is a natural impossibility--a thing that could not happen
+without an actual miracle; and since it becomes increasingly evident
+that thirty ladies cannot all sleep on the lowest shelf, there is some
+effort made to exercise faith in this doctrine; nevertheless, all look
+on their neighbors with fear and trembling; and when the stout lady
+talks of taking a shelf, she is most urgently pressed to change places
+with her alarmed neighbor below. Points of location being after a while
+adjusted, comes the last struggle. Every body wants to take off a
+bonnet, or look for a shawl, to find a cloak, or get a carpet bag, and
+all set about it with such zeal that nothing can be done. "Ma'am, you're
+on my foot!" says one. "Will you please to move, ma'am?" says somebody,
+who is gasping and struggling behind you. "Move!" you echo. "Indeed, I
+should be very glad to, but I don't see much prospect of it."
+"Chambermaid!" calls a lady, who is struggling among a heap of carpet
+bags and children at one end of the cabin. "Ma'am!" echoes the poor
+chambermaid, who is wedged fast, in a similar situation, at the other.
+"Where's my cloak, chambermaid?" "I'd find it, ma'am, if I could move."
+"Chambermaid, my basket!" "Chambermaid, my parasol!" "Chambermaid, my
+carpet bag!" "Mamma, they push me so!" "Hush, child; crawl under there,
+and lie still till I can undress you." At last, however, the various
+distresses are over, the babies sink to sleep, and even that
+much-enduring being, the chambermaid, seeks out some corner for repose.
+Tired and drowsy, you are just sinking into a doze, when bang! goes the
+boat against the sides of a lock; ropes scrape, men run and shout, and
+up fly the heads of all the top shelfites, who are generally the more
+juvenile and airy part of the company.
+
+"What's that! what's that!" flies from mouth to mouth; and forthwith
+they proceed to awaken their respective relations. "Mother! Aunt Hannah!
+do wake up; what is this awful noise?" "O, only a lock!" "Pray be
+still," groan out the sleepy members from below.
+
+"A lock!" exclaim the vivacious creatures, ever on the alert for
+information; "and what _is_ a lock, pray?"
+
+"Don't you know what a lock is, you silly creatures? Do lie down and go
+to sleep."
+
+"But say, there ain't any _danger_ in a lock, is there?" respond the
+querists. "Danger!" exclaims a deaf old lady, poking up her head;
+"what's the matter? There hain't nothin' burst, has there?" "No, no,
+no!" exclaim the provoked and despairing opposition party, who find that
+there is no such thing as going to sleep till they have made the old
+lady below and the young ladies above understand exactly the philosophy
+of a lock. After a while the conversation again subsides; again all is
+still; you hear only the trampling of horses and the rippling of the
+rope in the water, and sleep again is stealing over you. You doze, you
+dream, and all of a sudden you are started by a cry, "Chambermaid! wake
+up the lady that wants to be set ashore." Up jumps chambermaid, and up
+jump the lady and two children, and forthwith form a committee of
+inquiry as to ways and means. "Where's my bonnet?" says the lady, half
+awake, and fumbling among the various articles of that name. "I thought
+I hung it up behind the door." "Can't you find it?" says poor
+chambermaid, yawning and rubbing her eyes. "O, yes, here it is," says
+the lady; and then the cloak, the shawl, the gloves, the shoes, receive
+each a separate discussion. At last all seems ready, and they begin to
+move off, when, lo! Peter's cap is missing. "Now, where can it be?"
+soliloquizes the lady. "I put it right here by the table leg; maybe it
+got into some of the berths." At this suggestion, the chambermaid takes
+the candle, and goes round deliberately to every berth, poking the light
+directly in the face of every sleeper. "Here it is," she exclaims,
+pulling at something black under one pillow. "No, indeed, those are my
+shoes," says the vexed sleeper. "Maybe it's here," she resumes, darting
+upon something dark in another berth. "No, that's my bag," responds the
+occupant. The chambermaid then proceeds to turn over all the children on
+the floor, to see if it is not under them. In the course of which
+process they are most agreeably waked up and enlivened; and when every
+body is broad awake, and most uncharitably wishing the cap, and Peter
+too, at the bottom of the canal, the good lady exclaims, "Well, if this
+isn't lucky; here I had it safe in my basket all the time!" And she
+departs amid the--what shall I say?--execrations?--of the whole company,
+ladies though they be.
+
+Well, after this follows a hushing up and wiping up among the juvenile
+population, and a series of remarks commences from the various shelves,
+of a very edifying and instructive tendency. One says that the woman did
+not seem to know where any thing was; another says that she has waked
+them all up; a third adds that she has waked up all the children, too;
+and the elderly ladies make moral reflections on the importance of
+putting your things where you can find them--being always ready; which
+observations, being delivered in an exceedingly doleful and drowsy tone,
+form a sort of sub-bass to the lively chattering of the upper shelfites,
+who declare that they feel quite wide awake,--that they don't think they
+shall go to sleep again to-night,--and discourse over every thing in
+creation, until you heartily wish you were enough related to them to
+give them a scolding.
+
+At last, however, voice after voice drops off; you fall into a most
+refreshing slumber; it seems to you that you sleep about a quarter of an
+hour, when the chambermaid pulls you by the sleeve. "Will you please to
+get up, ma'am? We want to make the beds." You start and stare. Sure
+enough, the night is gone. So much for sleeping on board canal boats.
+
+Let us not enumerate the manifold perplexities of the morning toilet in
+a place where every lady realizes most forcibly the condition of the old
+woman who lived under a broom: "All she wanted was elbow room." Let us
+not tell how one glass is made to answer for thirty fair faces, one ewer
+and vase for thirty lavations; and--tell it not in Gath!--one towel for
+a company! Let us not intimate how ladies' shoes have, in a night,
+clandestinely slid into the gentlemen's cabin, and gentlemen's boots
+elbowed, or, rather, _toed_ their way among ladies' gear, nor recite the
+exclamations after runaway property that are heard. "I can't find
+nothin' of Johnny's shoe!" "Here's a shoe in the water pitcher--is this
+it?" "My side combs are gone!" exclaims a nymph with dishevelled curls.
+"Massy! do look at my bonnet!" exclaims an old lady, elevating an
+article crushed into as many angles as there are pieces in a minced pie.
+"I never did sleep _so much together_ in my life," echoes a poor little
+French lady, whom despair has driven into talking English.
+
+But our shortening paper warns us not to prolong our catalogue of
+distresses beyond reasonable bounds, and therefore we will close with
+advising all our friends, who intend to try this way of travelling for
+_pleasure_, to take a good stock both of patience and clean towels with
+them, for we think that they will find abundant need for both.
+
+
+
+
+FEELING.
+
+
+There is one way of studying human nature, which surveys mankind only as
+a set of instruments for the accomplishment of personal plans. There is
+another, which regards them simply as a gallery of pictures, to be
+admired or laughed at as the caricature or the _beau ideal_
+predominates. A third way regards them as human beings, having hearts
+that can suffer and enjoy, that can be improved or be ruined; as those
+who are linked to us by mysterious reciprocal influences, by the common
+dangers of a present existence, and the uncertainties of a future one;
+as presenting, wherever we meet them, claims on our sympathy and
+assistance.
+
+Those who adopt the last method are interested in human beings, not so
+much by _present_ attractions as by their capabilities as intelligent,
+immortal beings; by a high belief of what every mind may attain in an
+immortal existence; by anxieties for its temptations and dangers, and
+often by the perception of errors and faults which threaten its ruin.
+The first two modes are adopted by the great mass of society; the last
+is the office of those few scattered stars in the sky of life, who look
+down on its dark selfishness to remind us that there is a world of light
+and love.
+
+To this class did _He_ belong, whose rising and setting on earth were
+for "the healing of the nations;" and to this class has belonged many a
+pure and devoted spirit, like him shining to cheer, like him fading away
+into the heavens. To this class many a one _wishes_ to belong, who has
+an eye to distinguish the divinity of virtue, without the resolution to
+attain it; who, while they sweep along with the selfish current of
+society, still regret that society is not different--that they
+themselves are not different. If this train of thought has no very
+particular application to what follows, it was nevertheless suggested by
+it, and of its relevancy others must judge.
+
+Look into this school room. It is a warm, sleepy afternoon in July;
+there is scarcely air enough to stir the leaves of the tall buttonwood
+tree before the door, or to lift the loose leaves of the copy book in
+the window; the sun has been diligently shining into those curtainless
+west windows ever since three o'clock, upon those blotted and mangled
+desks, and those decrepit and tottering benches, and that great arm
+chair, the high place of authority.
+
+You can faintly hear, about the door, the "craw, craw," of some
+neighboring chickens, which have stepped around to consider the dinner
+baskets, and pick up the crumbs of the noon's repast. For a marvel, the
+busy school is still, because, in truth, it is too warm to stir. You
+will find nothing to disturb your meditation on character, for you
+cannot hear the beat of those little hearts, nor the bustle of all those
+busy thoughts.
+
+Now look around. Who of these is the most interesting? Is it that tall,
+slender, hazel-eyed boy, with a glance like a falcon, whose elbows rest
+on his book as he gazes out on the great buttonwood tree, and is
+calculating how he shall fix his squirrel trap when school is out? Or is
+it that curly-headed little rogue, who is shaking with repressed
+laughter at seeing a chicken roll over in a dinner basket? Or is it that
+arch boy with black eyelashes, and deep, mischievous dimple in his
+cheeks, who is slyly fixing a fish hook to the skirts of the master's
+coat, yet looking as abstracted as Archimedes whenever the good man
+turns his head that way? No; these are intelligent, bright, beautiful,
+but it is not these.
+
+Perhaps, then, it is that sleepy little girl, with golden curls, and a
+mouth like a half-blown rosebud. See, the small brass thimble has fallen
+to the floor, her patchwork drops from her lap, her blue eyes close like
+two sleepy violets, her little head is nodding, and she sinks on her
+sister's shoulder: surely it is she. No, it is not.
+
+But look in that corner. Do you see that boy with such a gloomy
+countenance--so vacant, yet so ill natured? He is doing nothing, and he
+very seldom does any thing. He is surly and gloomy in his looks and
+actions. He never showed any more aptitude for saying or doing a pretty
+thing than his straight white hair does for curling. He is regularly
+blamed and punished every day, and the more he is blamed and punished,
+the worse he grows. None of the boys and girls in school will play with
+him; or, if they do, they will be sorry for it. And every day the master
+assures him that "he does not know what to do with him," and that he
+"makes him more trouble than any boy in school," with similar judicious
+information, that has a striking tendency to promote improvement. That
+is the boy to whom I apply the title of "the most interesting one."
+
+He is interesting because he is _not_ pleasing; because he has bad
+habits; because he does wrong; because, under present influences, he is
+always likely to do wrong. He is interesting because he has become what
+he is now by means of the very temperament which often makes the noblest
+virtue. It is feeling, acuteness of feeling, which has given that
+countenance its expression, that character its moroseness.
+
+He has no father, and that long-suffering friend, his mother, is gone
+too. Yet he has relations, and kind ones too; and, in the compassionate
+language of worldly charity, it may be said of him, "He would have
+nothing of which to complain, if he would only behave himself."
+
+His little sister is always bright, always pleasant and cheerful; and
+his friends say, "Why should not he be so too? He is in exactly the same
+circumstances." No, he is not. In one circumstance they differ. He has a
+mind to feel and remember every thing that can pain; she can feel and
+remember but little. If you blame him, he is exasperated, gloomy, and
+cannot forget it. If you blame her, she can say she has done wrong in a
+moment, and all is forgotten. Her mind can no more be wounded than the
+little brook where she loves to play. The bright waters close again, and
+smile and prattle as merry as before.
+
+Which is the most desirable temperament? It would be hard to say. The
+power of feeling is necessary for all that is noble in man, and yet it
+involves the greatest risks. They who catch at happiness on the bright
+surface of things, secure a portion, such as it is, with more certainty;
+those who dive for it in the waters of deeper feeling, if they succeed,
+will bring up pearls and diamonds, but if they sink they are lost
+forever!
+
+But now comes Saturday, and school is just out. Can any one of my
+readers remember the rapturous prospect of a long, bright Saturday
+afternoon? "Where are you going?" "Will you come and see me?" "We are
+going a fishing!" "Let us go a strawberrying!" may be heard rising from
+the happy group. But no one comes near the ill-humored James, and the
+little party going to visit his sister "wish James was out of the way."
+He sees every motion, hears every whisper, knows, suspects, feels it
+all, and turns to go home more sullen and ill tempered than common. The
+world looks dark--nobody loves him--and he is told that it is "all his
+own fault," and that makes the matter still worse.
+
+When the little party arrive, he is suspicious and irritable, and, of
+course, soon excommunicated. Then, as he stands in disconsolate anger,
+looking over the garden fence at the gay group making dandelion chains,
+and playing baby house under the trees, he wonders why he is not like
+other children. He wishes he were different, and yet he does not know
+what to do. He looks around, and every thing is blooming and bright. His
+little bed of flowers is even brighter and sweeter than ever before, and
+a new rose is just opening on his rosebush.
+
+There goes pussy, too, racing and scampering, with little Ellen after
+her, in among the alleys and flowers; and the birds are singing in the
+trees; and the soft winds brush the blossoms of the sweet pea against
+his cheek; and yet, though all nature looks on him so kindly, he is
+wretched.
+
+Let us now change the scene. Why is that crowded assembly so
+attentive--so silent? Who is speaking? It is our old friend, the little
+disconsolate schoolboy. But his eyes are flashing with intellect, his
+face fervent with emotion, his voice breathes like music, and every mind
+is enchained.
+
+Again, it is a splendid sunset, and yonder enthusiast meets it face to
+face, as a friend. He is silent--rapt--happy. He feels the poetry which
+God has written; he is touched by it, as God meant that the feeling
+spirit should be touched.
+
+Again, he is watching by the bed of sickness, and it is blessed to have
+such a watcher! anticipating every want; relieving, not in a cold,
+uninterested way, but with the quick perceptions, the tenderness, the
+gentleness of an angel.
+
+Follow him into the circle of friendship, and why is he so loved and
+trusted? Why can you so easily tell to him what you can say to no one
+else besides? Why is it that all around him feel that he can understand,
+appreciate, be touched by all that touches them?
+
+And when heaven uncloses its doors of light, when all its knowledge, its
+purity, its bliss, rises on the eye and passes into the soul, who then
+will be looked on as the one who might be envied--he who _can_, or he
+who _cannot feel_?
+
+
+
+
+THE SEAMSTRESS.
+
+    "Few, save the poor, feel for the poor;
+      The rich know not how hard
+    It is to be of needful food
+      And needful rest debarred.
+
+    Their paths are paths of plenteousness;
+      They sleep on silk and down;
+    They never think how wearily
+      The weary head lies down.
+
+    They never by the window sit,
+      And see the gay pass by,
+    Yet take their weary work again,
+      And with a mournful eye."
+
+    L. E. L.
+
+
+However fine and elevated, in a sentimental point of view, may have been
+the poetry of this gifted writer, we think we have never seen any thing
+from this source that _ought_ to give a better opinion of her than the
+little ballad from which the above verses are taken.
+
+They show that the accomplished authoress possessed, not merely a
+knowledge of the dreamy ideal wants of human beings, but the more
+pressing and homely ones, which the fastidious and poetical are often
+the last to appreciate. The sufferings of poverty are not confined to
+those of the common, squalid, every day inured to hardships, and ready,
+with open hand, to receive charity, let it come to them as it will.
+There is another class on whom it presses with still heavier power--the
+generous, the decent, the self-respecting, who have struggled with their
+lot in silence, "bearing all things, hoping all things," and willing to
+endure all things, rather than breathe a word of complaint, or to
+acknowledge, even to themselves, that their own efforts will not be
+sufficient for their own necessities.
+
+Pause with me a while at the door of yonder room, whose small window
+overlooks a little court below. It is inhabited by a widow and her
+daughter, dependent entirely on the labors of the needle, and those
+other slight and precarious resources, which are all that remain to
+woman when left to struggle her way through the world alone. It contains
+all their small earthly store, and there is scarce an article of its
+little stock of furniture that has not been thought of, and toiled for,
+and its price calculated over and over again, before every thing could
+be made right for its purchase. Every article is arranged with the
+utmost neatness and care; nor is the most costly furniture of a
+fashionable parlor more sedulously guarded from a scratch or a rub, than
+is that brightly-varnished bureau, and that neat cherry tea table and
+bedstead. The floor, too, boasted once a carpet; but old Time has been
+busy with it, picking a hole here, and making a thin place there; and
+though the old fellow has been followed up by the most indefatigable
+zeal in darning, the marks of his mischievous fingers are too plain to
+be mistaken. It is true, a kindly neighbor has given a bit of faded
+baize, which has been neatly clipped and bound, and spread down over an
+entirely unmanageable hole in front of the fireplace; and other places
+have been repaired with pieces of different colors; and yet, after all,
+it is evident that the poor carpet is not long for this world.
+
+But the best face is put upon every thing. The little cupboard in the
+corner, that contains a few china cups, and one or two antiquated silver
+spoons, relics of better days, is arranged with jealous neatness, and
+the white muslin window curtain, albeit the muslin be old, has been
+carefully whitened and starched, and smoothly ironed, and put up with
+exact precision; and on the bureau, covered by a snowy cloth, are
+arranged a few books and other memorials of former times, and a faded
+miniature, which, though it have little about it to interest a stranger,
+is more precious to the poor widow than every thing besides.
+
+Mrs. Ames is seated in her rocking chair, supported by a pillow, and
+busy cutting out work, while her daughter, a slender, sickly-looking
+girl, is sitting by the window, intent on some fine stitching.
+
+Mrs. Ames, in former days, was the wife of a respectable merchant, and
+the mother of an affectionate family. But evil fortune had followed her
+with a steadiness that seemed like the stern decree of some adverse fate
+rather than the ordinary dealings of a merciful Providence. First came a
+heavy run of losses in business; then long and expensive sickness in the
+family, and the death of children. Then there was the selling of the
+large house and elegant furniture, to retire to a humbler style of
+living; and finally, the sale of all the property, with the view of
+quitting the shores of a native land, and commencing life again in a new
+one. But scarcely had the exiled family found themselves in the port of
+a foreign land, when the father was suddenly smitten down by the hand of
+death, and his lonely grave made in a land of strangers. The widow,
+broken-hearted and discouraged, had still a wearisome journey before her
+ere she could reach any whom she could consider as her friends. With her
+two daughters, entirely unattended, and with her finances impoverished
+by detention and sickness, she performed the tedious journey.
+
+Arrived at the place of her destination, she found herself not only
+without immediate resources, but considerably in debt to one who had
+advanced money for her travelling expenses. With silent endurance she
+met the necessities of her situation. Her daughters, delicately reared,
+and hitherto carefully educated, were placed out to service, and Mrs.
+Ames sought for employment as a nurse. The younger child fell sick, and
+the hard earnings of the mother were all exhausted in the care of her;
+and though she recovered in part, she was declared by her physician to
+be the victim of a disease which would never leave her till it
+terminated her life.
+
+As soon, however, as her daughter was so far restored as not to need her
+immediate care, Mrs. Ames resumed her laborious employment. Scarcely had
+she been able, in this way, to discharge the debts for her journey and
+to furnish the small room we have described, when the hand of disease
+was laid heavily on herself. Too resolute and persevering to give way to
+the first attacks of pain and weakness, she still continued her
+fatiguing employment till her system was entirely prostrated. Thus all
+possibility of pursuing her business was cut off, and nothing remained
+but what could be accomplished by her own and her daughter's dexterity
+at the needle. It is at this time we ask you to look in upon the mother
+and daughter.
+
+Mrs. Ames is sitting up, the first time for a week, and even to-day she
+is scarcely fit to do so; but she remembers that the month is coming
+round, and her rent will soon be due; and in her feebleness she will
+stretch every nerve to meet her engagements with punctilious exactness.
+
+Wearied at length with cutting out, and measuring, and drawing threads,
+she leans back in her chair, and her eye rests on the pale face of her
+daughter, who has been sitting for two hours intent on her stitching.
+
+"Ellen, my child, your head aches; don't work so steadily."
+
+"O, no, it don't ache _much_," said she, too conscious of looking very
+much tired. Poor girl! had she remained in the situation in which she
+was born, she would now have been skipping about, and enjoying life as
+other young girls of fifteen do; but now there is no choice of
+employments for her--no youthful companions--no visiting--no pleasant
+walks in the fresh air. Evening and morning, it is all the same;
+headache or sideache, it is all one. She must hold on the same unvarying
+task--a wearisome thing for a girl of fifteen.
+
+But see! the door opens, and Mrs. Ames's face brightens as her other
+daughter enters. Mary has become a domestic in a neighboring family,
+where her faithfulness and kindness of heart have caused her to be
+regarded more as a daughter and a sister than as a servant. "Here,
+mother, is your rent money," she exclaimed; "so do put up your work and
+rest a while. I can get enough to pay it next time before the month
+comes around again."
+
+"Dear child, I do wish you would ever think to get any thing for
+yourself," said Mrs. Ames. "I cannot consent to use up all your
+earnings, as I have done lately, and all Ellen's too; you must have a
+new dress this spring, and that bonnet of yours is not decent any
+longer."
+
+"O, no, mother! I have made over my blue calico, and you would be
+surprised to see how well it looks; and my best frock, when it is washed
+and darned, will answer some time longer. And then Mrs. Grant has given
+me a ribbon, and when my bonnet is whitened and trimmed it will look
+very well. And so," she added, "I brought you some wine this afternoon;
+you know the doctor says you need wine."
+
+"Dear child, I want to see you take some comfort of your money
+yourself."
+
+"Well, I do take comfort of it, mother. It is more comfort to be able to
+help you than to wear all the finest dresses in the world."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Two months from this dialogue found our little family still more
+straitened and perplexed. Mrs. Ames had been confined all the time with
+sickness, and the greater part of Ellen's time and strength was occupied
+with attending to her.
+
+Very little sewing could the poor girl now do, in the broken intervals
+that remained to her; and the wages of Mary were not only used as fast
+as earned, but she anticipated two months in advance.
+
+Mrs. Ames had been better for a day or two, and had been sitting up,
+exerting all her strength to finish a set of shirts which had been sent
+in to make. "The money for them will just pay our rent," sighed she;
+"and if we can do a little more this week----"
+
+"Dear mother, you are so tired," said Ellen; "do lie down, and not worry
+any more till I come back."
+
+Ellen went out, and passed on till she came to the door of an elegant
+house, whose damask and muslin window curtains indicated a fashionable
+residence.
+
+Mrs. Elmore was sitting in her splendidly-furnished parlor, and around
+her lay various fancy articles which two young girls were busily
+unrolling. "What a lovely pink scarf!" said one, throwing it over her
+shoulders and skipping before a mirror; while the other exclaimed, "Do
+look at these pocket handkerchiefs, mother! what elegant lace!"
+
+"Well, girls," said Mrs. Elmore, "these handkerchiefs are a shameful
+piece of extravagance. I wonder you will insist on having such things."
+
+"La, mamma, every body has such now; Laura Seymour has half a dozen that
+cost more than these, and her father is no richer than ours."
+
+"Well," said Mrs. Elmore, "rich or not rich, it seems to make very
+little odds; we do not seem to have half as much money to spare as we
+did when we lived in the little house in Spring Street. What with new
+furnishing the house, and getting every thing you boys and girls say you
+must have, we are poorer, if any thing, than we were then."
+
+"Ma'am, here is Mrs. Ames's girl come with some sewing," said the
+servant.
+
+"Show her in," said Mrs. Elmore.
+
+Ellen entered timidly, and handed her bundle of work to Mrs. Elmore, who
+forthwith proceeded to a minute scrutiny of the articles; for she prided
+herself on being very particular as to her sewing. But, though the work
+had been executed by feeble hands and aching eyes, even Mrs. Elmore
+could detect no fault in it.
+
+"Well, it is very prettily done," said she. "What does your mother
+charge?"
+
+Ellen handed a neatly-folded bill which she had drawn for her mother. "I
+must say, I think your mother's prices are very high," said Mrs. Elmore,
+examining her nearly empty purse; "every thing is getting so dear that
+one hardly knows how to live." Ellen looked at the fancy articles, and
+glanced around the room with an air of innocent astonishment. "Ah," said
+Mrs. Elmore, "I dare say it seems to you as if persons in our situation
+had no need of economy; but, for my part, I feel the need of it more and
+more every day." As she spoke she handed Ellen the three dollars, which,
+though it was not a quarter the price of one of the handkerchiefs, was
+all that she and her sick mother could claim in the world.
+
+"There," said she; "tell your mother I like her work very much, but I do
+not think I can afford to employ her, if I can find any one to work
+cheaper."
+
+Now, Mrs. Elmore was not a hard-hearted woman, and if Ellen had come as
+a beggar to solicit help for her sick mother, Mrs. Elmore would have
+fitted out a basket of provisions, and sent a bottle of wine, and a
+bundle of old clothes, and all the _et cetera_ of such occasions; but
+the sight of _a bill_ always aroused all the instinctive sharpness of
+her business-like education. She never had the dawning of an idea that
+it was her duty to pay any body any more than she could possibly help;
+nay, she had an indistinct notion that it was her _duty_ as an economist
+to make every body take as little as possible. When she and her
+daughters lived in Spring Street, to which she had alluded, they used to
+spend the greater part of their time at home, and the family sewing was
+commonly done among themselves. But since they had moved into a large
+house, and set up a carriage, and addressed themselves to being genteel,
+the girls found that they had altogether too much to do to attend to
+their own sewing, much less to perform any for their father and
+brothers. And their mother found her hands abundantly full in
+overlooking her large house, in taking care of expensive furniture, and
+in superintending her increased train of servants. The sewing,
+therefore, was put out; and Mrs. Elmore _felt it a duty_ to get it done
+the cheapest way she could. Nevertheless, Mrs. Elmore was too notable a
+lady, and her sons and daughters were altogether too fastidious as to
+the make and quality of their clothing, to admit the idea of its being
+done in any but the most complete and perfect manner.
+
+Mrs. Elmore never accused herself of want of charity for the poor; but
+she had never considered that the best class of the poor are those who
+never ask charity. She did not consider that, by paying liberally those
+who were honestly and independently struggling for themselves, she was
+really doing a greater charity than by giving indiscriminately to a
+dozen applicants.
+
+"Don't you think, mother, she says we charge too high for this work!"
+said Ellen, when she returned. "I am sure she did not know how much work
+we put in those shirts. She says she cannot give us any more work; she
+must look out for somebody that will do it cheaper. I do not see how it
+is that people who live in such houses, and have so many beautiful
+things, can feel that they cannot afford to pay for what costs us so
+much."
+
+"Well, child, they are more apt to feel so than people who live
+plainer."
+
+"Well, I am sure," said Ellen, "we cannot afford to spend so much time
+as we have over these shirts for less money."
+
+"Never mind, my dear," said the mother, soothingly; "here is a bundle of
+work that another lady has sent in, and if we get it done, we shall have
+enough for our rent, and something over to buy bread with."
+
+It is needless to carry our readers over all the process of cutting, and
+fitting, and gathering, and stitching, necessary in making up six fine
+shirts. Suffice it to say that on Saturday evening all but one were
+finished, and Ellen proceeded to carry them home, promising to bring the
+remaining one on Tuesday morning. The lady examined the work, and gave
+Ellen the money; but on Tuesday, when the child came with the remaining
+work, she found her in great ill humor. Upon reëxamining the shirts, she
+had discovered that in some important respects they differed from
+directions she meant to have given, and supposed she had given; and,
+accordingly, she vented her displeasure on Ellen.
+
+"Why didn't you make these shirts as I told you?" said she, sharply.
+
+"We did," said Ellen, mildly; "mother measured by the pattern every
+part, and cut them herself."
+
+"Your mother must be a fool, then, to make such a piece of work. I wish
+you would just take them back and alter them over;" and the lady
+proceeded with the directions, of which neither Ellen nor her mother
+till then had had any intimation. Unused to such language, the
+frightened Ellen took up her work and slowly walked homeward.
+
+"O, dear, how my head does ache!" thought she to herself; "and poor
+mother! she said this morning she was afraid another of her sick turns
+was coming on, and we have all this work to pull out and do over."
+
+"See here, mother," said she, with a disconsolate air, as she entered
+the room; "Mrs. Rudd says, take out all the bosoms, and rip off all the
+collars, and fix them quite another way. She says they are not like the
+pattern she sent; but she must have forgotten, for here it is. Look,
+mother; it is exactly as we made them."
+
+"Well, my child, carry back the pattern, and show her that it is so."
+
+"Indeed, mother, she spoke so cross to me, and looked at me so, that I
+do not feel as if I could go back."
+
+"I will go for you, then," said the kind Maria Stephens, who had been
+sitting with Mrs. Ames while Ellen was out. "I will take the pattern and
+shirts, and tell her the exact truth about it. I am not afraid of her."
+Maria Stephens was a tailoress, who rented a room on the same floor with
+Mrs. Ames, a cheerful, resolute, go-forward little body, and ready
+always to give a helping hand to a neighbor in trouble. So she took the
+pattern and shirts, and set out on her mission.
+
+But poor Mrs. Ames, though she professed to take a right view of the
+matter, and was very earnest in showing Ellen why she ought not to
+distress herself about it, still felt a shivering sense of the hardness
+and unkindness of the world coming over her. The bitter tears would
+spring to her eyes, in spite of every effort to suppress them, as she
+sat mournfully gazing on the little faded miniature before mentioned.
+"When _he_ was alive, I never knew what poverty or trouble was," was the
+thought that often passed through her mind. And how many a poor forlorn
+one has thought the same!
+
+Poor Mrs. Ames was confined to her bed for most of that week. The doctor
+gave absolute directions that she should do nothing, and keep entirely
+quiet--a direction very sensible indeed in the chamber of ease and
+competence, but hard to be observed in poverty and want.
+
+What pains the kind and dutiful Ellen took that week to make her mother
+feel easy! How often she replied to her anxious questions, "that she was
+quite well," or "that her head did not ache _much_!" and by various
+other evasive expedients the child tried to persuade herself that she
+was speaking the truth. And during the times her mother slept, in the
+day or evening, she accomplished one or two pieces of plain work, with
+the price of which she expected to surprise her mother.
+
+It was towards evening when Ellen took her finished work to the elegant
+dwelling of Mrs. Page. "I shall get a dollar for this," said she;
+"enough to pay for mother's wine and medicine."
+
+"This work is done very neatly," said Mrs. Page, "and here is some more
+I should like to have finished in the same way."
+
+Ellen looked up wistfully, hoping Mrs. Page was going to pay her for the
+last work. But Mrs. Page was only searching a drawer for a pattern,
+which she put into Ellen's hands, and after explaining how she wanted
+her work done, dismissed her without saying a word about the expected
+dollar.
+
+Poor Ellen tried two or three times, as she was going out, to turn round
+and ask for it; but before she could decide what to say, she found
+herself in the street.
+
+Mrs. Page was an amiable, kind-hearted woman, but one who was so used to
+large sums of money that she did not realize how great an affair a
+single dollar might seem to other persons. For this reason, when Ellen
+had worked incessantly at the new work put into her hands, that she
+might get the money for all together, she again disappointed her in the
+payment.
+
+"I'll send the money round to-morrow," said she, when Ellen at last
+found courage to ask for it. But to-morrow came, and Ellen was
+forgotten; and it was not till after one or two applications more that
+the small sum was paid.
+
+But these sketches are already long enough, and let us hasten to close
+them. Mrs. Ames found liberal friends, who could appreciate and honor
+her integrity of principle and loveliness of character, and by their
+assistance she was raised to see more prosperous days; and she, and the
+delicate Ellen, and warm-hearted Mary were enabled to have a home and
+fireside of their own, and to enjoy something like the return of their
+former prosperity.
+
+We have given these sketches, drawn from real life, because we think
+there is in general too little consideration on the part of those who
+give employment to those in situations like the widow here described.
+The giving of employment is a very important branch of charity, inasmuch
+as it assists that class of the poor who are the most deserving. It
+should be looked on in this light, and the arrangements of a family be
+so made that a suitable compensation can be given, and prompt and
+cheerful payment be made, without the dread of transgressing the rules
+of economy.
+
+It is better to teach our daughters to do without expensive ornaments or
+fashionable elegances; better even to deny ourselves the pleasure of
+large donations or direct subscriptions to public charities, rather than
+to curtail the small stipend of her whose "candle goeth not out by
+night," and who labors with her needle for herself and the helpless dear
+ones dependent on her exertions.
+
+
+
+
+OLD FATHER MORRIS.
+
+A SKETCH FROM NATURE.
+
+
+Of all the marvels that astonished my childhood, there is none I
+remember to this day with so much interest as the old man whose name
+forms my caption. When I knew him, he was an aged clergyman, settled
+over an obscure village in New England. He had enjoyed the advantages of
+a liberal education, had a strong, original power of thought, an
+omnipotent imagination, and much general information; but so early and
+so deeply had the habits and associations of the plough, the farm, and
+country life wrought themselves into his mind, that his after
+acquirements could only mingle with them, forming an unexampled amalgam
+like unto nothing but itself.
+
+He was an ingrain New Englander, and whatever might have been the source
+of his information, it came out in Yankee form, with the strong
+provinciality of Yankee dialect.
+
+It is in vain to attempt to give a full picture of such a genuine
+_unique_; but some slight and imperfect dashes may help the imagination
+to a faint idea of what none can fully conceive but those who have seen
+and heard old Father Morris.
+
+Suppose yourself one of half a dozen children, and you hear the cry,
+"Father Morris is coming!" You run to the window or door, and you see a
+tall, bulky old man, with a pair of saddle bags on one arm, hitching his
+old horse with a fumbling carefulness, and then deliberately stumping
+towards the house. You notice his tranquil, florid, full-moon face,
+enlightened by a pair of great round blue eyes, that roll with dreamy
+inattentiveness on all the objects around; and as he takes off his hat,
+you see the white curling wig that sets off his round head. He comes
+towards you, and as you stand staring, with all the children around, he
+deliberately puts his great hand on your head, and, with deep, rumbling
+voice, inquires,--
+
+"How d'ye do, my darter? is your daddy at home?" "My darter" usually
+makes off as fast as possible, in an unconquerable giggle. Father Morris
+goes into the house, and we watch him at every turn, as, with the most
+liberal simplicity, he makes himself at home, takes off his wig, wipes
+down his great face with a checked pocket handkerchief, helps himself
+hither and thither to whatever he wants, and asks for such things as he
+cannot lay his hands on, with all the comfortable easiness of childhood.
+
+I remember to this day how we used to peep through the crack of the
+door, or hold it half ajar and peer in, to watch his motions; and how
+mightily diverted we were with his deep, slow manner of speaking, his
+heavy, cumbrous walk, but, above all, with the wonderful faculty of
+"_hemming_" which he possessed.
+
+His deep, thundering, protracted "A-hem-em" was like nothing else that
+ever I heard; and when once, as he was in the midst of one of these
+performances, the parlor door suddenly happened to swing open, I heard
+one of my roguish brothers calling, in a suppressed tone, "Charles!
+Charles! Father Morris has _hemmed_ the door open!"--and then followed
+the signs of a long and desperate titter, in which I sincerely
+sympathized.
+
+But the morrow is Sunday. The old man rises in the pulpit. He is not now
+in his own humble little parish, preaching simply to the hoers of corn
+and planters of potatoes, but there sits Governor D., and there is Judge
+R., and Counsellor P., and Judge G. In short, he is before a refined and
+literary audience. But Father Morris rises; he thinks nothing of this;
+he cares nothing; he knows nothing, as he himself would say, but "Jesus
+Christ, and him crucified." He takes a passage of Scripture to explain;
+perhaps it is the walk to Emmaus, and the conversation of Jesus with his
+disciples. Immediately the whole start out before you, living and
+picturesque: the road to Emmaus is a New England turnpike; you can see
+its mile stones, its mullein stalks, its toll gates. Next the disciples
+rise, and you have before you all their anguish, and hesitation, and
+dismay talked out to you in the language of your own fireside. You
+smile; you are amused; yet you are touched, and the illusion grows every
+moment. You see the approaching stranger, and the mysterious
+conversation grows more and more interesting. Emmaus rises in the
+distance, in the likeness of a New England village, with a white meeting
+house and spire. You follow the travellers; you enter the house with
+them; nor do you wake from your trance until, with streaming eyes, the
+preacher tells you that "they saw it was the Lord Jesus--and _what a
+pity_ it was they could not have known it before!"
+
+It was after a sermon on this very chapter of Scripture history that
+Governor Griswold, in passing out of the house, laid hold on the sleeve
+of his first acquaintance: "Pray tell me," said he, "who is this
+minister?"
+
+"Why, it is old Father Morris."
+
+"Well, he is an oddity--and a genius too, I declare!" he continued. "I
+have been wondering all the morning how I could have read the Bible to
+so little purpose as not to see all these particulars he has presented."
+
+I once heard him narrate in this picturesque way the story of Lazarus.
+The great bustling city of Jerusalem first rises to view, and you are
+told, with great simplicity, how the Lord Jesus "used to get tired of
+the noise;" and how he was "tired of preaching, again and again, to
+people who would not mind a word he said;" and how, "when it came
+evening, he used to go out and see his friends in Bethany." Then he told
+about the house of Martha and Mary: "a little white house among the
+trees," he said; "you could just see it from Jerusalem." And there the
+Lord Jesus and his disciples used to go and sit in the evenings, with
+Martha, and Mary, and Lazarus.
+
+Then the narrator went on to tell how Lazarus died, describing, with
+tears and a choking voice, the distress they were in, and how they sent
+a message to the Lord Jesus, and he did not come, and how they wondered
+and wondered; and thus on he went, winding up the interest by the
+graphic _minutiæ_ of an eye witness, till he woke you from the dream by
+his triumphant joy at the resurrection scene.
+
+On another occasion, as he was sitting at a tea table, unusually
+supplied with cakes and sweetmeats, he found an opportunity to make a
+practical allusion to the same family story. He said that Mary was quiet
+and humble, sitting at her Savior's feet to hear his words; but Martha
+thought more of what was to be got for tea. Martha could not find time
+to listen to Christ. No; she was "'cumbered with much serving'--around
+the house, frying fritters and making gingerbread."
+
+Among his own simple people, his style of Scripture painting was
+listened to with breathless interest. But it was particularly in those
+rustic circles, called "conference meetings," that his whole warm soul
+unfolded, and the Bible in his hands became a gallery of New England
+paintings.
+
+He particularly loved the evangelists, following the footsteps of Jesus
+Christ, dwelling upon his words, repeating over and over again the
+stories of what he did, with all the fond veneration of an old and
+favored servant.
+
+Sometimes, too, he would give the narration an exceedingly practical
+turn, as one example will illustrate.
+
+He had noticed a falling off in his little circle that met for social
+prayer, and took occasion, the first time he collected a tolerable
+audience, to tell concerning "the conference meeting that the disciples
+attended" after the resurrection.
+
+"But Thomas was not with them." "Thomas not with them!" said the old
+man, in a sorrowful voice. "Why, what could keep Thomas away? Perhaps,"
+said he, glancing at some of his backward auditors, "Thomas had got
+cold-hearted, and was afraid they would ask him to make the first
+prayer; or perhaps," said he, looking at some of the farmers, "Thomas
+was afraid the roads were bad; or perhaps," he added, after a pause,
+"Thomas had got proud, and thought he could not come in his old
+clothes." Thus he went on, significantly summing up the common excuses
+of his people; and then, with great simplicity and emotion, he added,
+"But only think what Thomas lost! for in the middle of the meeting, the
+Lord Jesus came and stood among them! How sorry Thomas must have been!"
+This representation served to fill the vacant seats for some time to
+come.
+
+At another time Father Morris gave the details of the anointing of David
+to be king. He told them how Samuel went to Bethlehem, to Jesse's house,
+and went in with a "How d'ye do, Jesse?" and how, when Jesse asked him
+to take a chair, he said he could not stay a minute; that the Lord had
+sent him to anoint one of his sons for a king; and how, when Jesse
+called in the tallest and handsomest, Samuel said "he would not do;" and
+how all the rest passed the same test; and at last, how Samuel says,
+"Why, have not you any more sons, Jesse?" and Jesse says, "Why, yes,
+there is little David down in the lot;" and how, as soon as ever Samuel
+saw David, "he slashed the oil right on to him;" and how Jesse said "he
+never was so beat in all his life."
+
+Father Morris sometimes used his illustrative talent to very good
+purpose in the way of rebuke. He had on his farm a fine orchard of
+peaches, from which some of the ten and twelve-year-old gentlemen helped
+themselves more liberally than even the old man's kindness thought
+expedient.
+
+Accordingly, he took occasion to introduce into his sermon one Sunday,
+in his little parish, an account of a journey he took; and how he was
+"very warm and very dry;" and how he saw a fine orchard of peaches that
+made his mouth water to look at them. "So," says he, "I came up to the
+fence and looked all around, for I would not have touched one of them
+_without leave_ for all the world. At last I spied a man, and says I,
+'Mister, won't you give me some of your peaches?' So the man came and
+gave me nigh about a hat full. And while I stood there eating, I said,
+'Mister, how do you manage to keep your peaches?' 'Keep them!' said he,
+and he stared at me; 'what do you mean?' 'Yes, sir,' said I; 'don't the
+boys steal them?' 'Boys steal them!' said he. 'No, indeed!' 'Why, sir,'
+said I, 'I have a whole lot full of peaches, and I cannot get half of
+them'"--here the old man's voice grew tremulous--"'because the boys in
+my parish steal them so.' 'Why, sir,' said he, 'don't their parents
+teach them not to steal?' And I grew all over in a cold sweat, and I
+told him 'I was afeard they didn't.' 'Why, how you talk!' says the man;
+'do tell me where you live?' Then," said Father Morris, the tears
+running over, "I was obliged to tell him I lived in the town of G."
+After this Father Morris kept his peaches.
+
+Our old friend was not less original in the logical than in the
+illustrative portions of his discourses. His logic was of that familiar,
+colloquial kind which shakes hands with common sense like an old friend.
+Sometimes, too, his great mind and great heart would be poured out on
+the vast themes of religion, in language which, though homely, produced
+all the effects of the sublime. He once preached a discourse on the
+text, "the High and Holy One that inhabiteth eternity;" and from the
+beginning to the end it was a train of lofty and solemn thought. With
+his usual simple earnestness, and his great, rolling voice, he told
+about "the Great God--the Great Jehovah--and how the people in this
+world were flustering and worrying, and afraid they should not get time
+to do this, and that, and t'other. But," he added, with full-hearted
+satisfaction, "the Lord is never in a hurry; he has it all to do, but he
+has time enough, for he inhabiteth eternity." And the grand idea of
+infinite leisure and almighty resources was carried through the sermon
+with equal strength and simplicity.
+
+Although the old man never seemed to be sensible of any thing tending to
+the ludicrous in his own mode of expressing himself, yet he had
+considerable relish for humor, and some shrewdness of repartee. One
+time, as he was walking through a neighboring parish, famous for its
+profanity, he was stopped by a whole flock of the youthful reprobates of
+the place:--
+
+"Father Morris, Father Morris! the devil's dead!"
+
+"Is he?" said the old man, benignly laying his hand on the head of the
+nearest urchin; "you poor fatherless children!"
+
+But the sayings and doings of this good old man, as reported in the
+legends of the neighborhood, are more than can be gathered or reported.
+He lived far beyond the common age of man, and continued, when age had
+impaired his powers, to tell over and over again the same Bible stories
+that he had told so often before.
+
+I recollect hearing of the joy that almost broke the old man's heart,
+when, after many years' diligent watching and nurture of the good seed
+in his parish, it began to spring into vegetation, sudden and beautiful
+as that which answers the patient watching of the husbandman. Many a
+hard, worldly-hearted man--many a sleepy, inattentive hearer--many a
+listless, idle young person, began to give ear to words that had long
+fallen unheeded. A neighboring minister, who had been sent for to see
+and rejoice in these results, describes the scene, when, on entering the
+little church, he found an anxious, crowded auditory assembled around
+their venerable teacher, waiting for direction and instruction. The old
+man was sitting in his pulpit, almost choking with fulness of emotion as
+he gazed around. "Father," said the youthful minister, "I suppose you
+are ready to say with old Simeon, 'Now, Lord, lettest thou thy servant
+depart in peace, for my eyes have seen thy salvation.'" "_Sartin,
+sartin_," said the old man, while the tears streamed down his cheeks,
+and his whole frame shook with emotion.
+
+It was not many years after that this simple and loving servant of
+Christ was gathered in peace unto Him whom he loved. His name is fast
+passing from remembrance, and in a few years, his memory, like his
+humble grave, will be entirely grown over and forgotten among men,
+though it will be had in everlasting remembrance by Him who "forgetteth
+not his servants," and in whose sight the death of his saints is
+precious.
+
+
+
+
+THE TWO ALTARS,
+
+OR TWO PICTURES IN ONE.
+
+
+I. THE ALTAR OF LIBERTY, OR 1776.
+
+The wellsweep of the old house on the hill was relieved, dark and clear,
+against the reddening sky, as the early winter sun was going down in the
+west. It was a brisk, clear, metallic evening; the long drifts of snow
+blushed crimson red on their tops, and lay in shades of purple and lilac
+in the hollows; and the old wintry wind brushed shrewdly along the
+plain, tingling people's noses, blowing open their cloaks, puffing in
+the back of their necks, and showing other unmistakable indications that
+he was getting up steam for a real roistering night.
+
+"Hurrah! How it blows!" said little Dick Ward, from the top of the mossy
+wood pile.
+
+Now Dick had been sent to said wood pile, in company with his little
+sister Grace, to pick up chips, which, every body knows, was in the
+olden time considered a wholesome and gracious employment, and the
+peculiar duty of the rising generation. But said Dick, being a boy, had
+mounted the wood pile, and erected there a flagstaff, on which he was
+busily tying a little red pocket handkerchief, occasionally exhorting
+Grace "to be sure and pick up fast."
+
+"O, yes, I will," said Grace; "but you see the chips have got ice on
+'em, and make my hands so cold!"
+
+"O, don't stop to suck your thumbs! Who cares for ice? Pick away, I say,
+while I set up the flag of liberty."
+
+So Grace picked away as fast as she could, nothing doubting but that her
+cold thumbs were in some mysterious sense an offering on the shrine of
+liberty; while soon the red handkerchief, duly secured, fluttered and
+snapped in the brisk evening wind.
+
+"Now you must hurrah, Gracie, and throw up your bonnet," said Dick, as
+he descended from the pile.
+
+"But won't it lodge down in some place in the wood pile?" suggested
+Grace, thoughtfully.
+
+"O, never fear; give it to me, and just holler now, Gracie, 'Hurrah for
+liberty;' and we'll throw up your bonnet and my cap; and we'll play, you
+know, that we are a whole army, and I'm General Washington."
+
+So Grace gave up her little red hood, and Dick swung his cap, and up
+they both went into the air; and the children shouted, and the flag
+snapped and fluttered, and altogether they had a merry time of it. But
+then the wind--good for nothing, roguish fellow!--made an ungenerous
+plunge at poor Grace's little hood, and snipped it up in a twinkling,
+and whisked it off, off, off,--fluttering and bobbing up and down, quite
+across a wide, waste, snowy field, and finally lodged it on the top of a
+tall, strutting rail, that was leaning, very independently, quite
+another way from all the other rails of the fence.
+
+"Now see, do see!" said Grace; "there goes my bonnet! What will Aunt
+Hitty say?" and Grace began to cry.
+
+"Don't you cry, Gracie; you offered it up to liberty, you know: it's
+glorious to give up every thing for liberty."
+
+"O, but Aunt Hitty won't think so."
+
+"Well, don't cry, Gracie, you foolish girl! Do you think I can't get it?
+Now, only play that that great rail is a fort, and your bonnet is a
+prisoner in it, and see how quick I'll take the fort and get it!" and
+Dick shouldered a stick and started off.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"What upon _airth_ keeps those children so long? I should think they
+were _making_ chips!" said Aunt Mehetabel; "the fire's just a going out
+under the tea kettle."
+
+By this time Grace had lugged her heavy basket to the door, and was
+stamping the snow off her little feet, which were so numb that she
+needed to stamp, to be quite sure they were yet there. Aunt Mehetabel's
+shrewd face was the first that greeted her as the door opened.
+
+"Gracie--what upon _airth_!--wipe your nose, child; your hands are
+frozen. Where alive is Dick?--and what's kept you out all this
+time?--and where's your bonnet?"
+
+Poor Grace, stunned by this cataract of questions, neither wiped her
+nose nor gave any answer, but sidled up into the warm corner, where
+grandmamma was knitting, and began quietly rubbing and blowing her
+fingers, while the tears silently rolled down her cheeks, as the fire
+made the former ache intolerably.
+
+"Poor little dear!" said grandmamma, taking her hands in hers; "Hitty
+shan't scold you. Grandma knows you've been a good girl--the wind blew
+poor Gracie's bonnet away;" and grandmamma wiped both eyes and nose, and
+gave her, moreover, a stalk of dried fennel out of her pocket; whereat
+Grace took heart once more.
+
+"Mother always makes fools of Roxy's children," said Mehetabel, puffing
+zealously under the tea kettle. "There's a little maple sugar in that
+saucer up there, mother, if you will keep giving it to her," she said,
+still vigorously puffing. "And now, Gracie," she said, when, after a
+while, the fire seemed in tolerable order, "will you answer my question?
+Where is Dick?"
+
+"Gone over in the lot, to get my bonnet."
+
+"How came your bonnet off?" said Aunt Mehetabel. "I tied it on firm
+enough."
+
+"Dick wanted me to take it off for him, to throw up for liberty," said
+Grace.
+
+"Throw up for fiddlestick! Just one of Dick's cut-ups; and you was silly
+enough to mind him!"
+
+"Why, he put up a flagstaff on the wood pile, and a flag to liberty, you
+know, that papa's fighting for," said Grace, more confidently, as she
+saw her quiet, blue-eyed mother, who had silently walked into the room
+during the conversation.
+
+Grace's mother smiled and said, encouragingly, "And what then?"
+
+"Why, he wanted me to throw up my bonnet and he his cap, and shout for
+liberty; and then the wind took it and carried it off, and he said I
+ought not to be sorry if I did lose it--it was an offering to liberty."
+
+"And so I did," said Dick, who was standing as straight as a poplar
+behind the group; "and I heard it in one of father's letters to mother,
+that we ought to offer up every thing on the altar of liberty--and so I
+made an altar of the wood pile."
+
+"Good boy!" said his mother; "always remember every thing your father
+writes. He has offered up every thing on the altar of liberty, true
+enough; and I hope you, son, will live to do the same."
+
+"Only, if I have the hoods and caps to make," said Aunt Hitty, "I hope
+he won't offer them up every week--that's all!"
+
+"O! well, Aunt Hitty, I've got the hood; let me alone for that. It blew
+clear over into the Daddy Ward pasture lot, and there stuck on the top
+of the great rail; and I played that the rail was a fort, and besieged
+it, and took it."
+
+"O, yes! you're always up to taking forts, and any thing else that
+nobody wants done. I'll warrant, now, you left Gracie to pick up every
+blessed one of them chips."
+
+"Picking up chips is girl's work," said Dick; "and taking forts and
+defending the country is men's work."
+
+"And pray, Mister Pomp, how long have you been a man?" said Aunt Hitty.
+
+"If I ain't a man, I soon shall be; my head is 'most up to my mother's
+shoulder, and I can fire off a gun, too. I tried, the other day, when I
+was up to the store. Mother, I wish you'd let me clean and load the old
+gun, so that, if the British should come----"
+
+"Well, if you are so big and grand, just lift me out that table, sir,"
+said Aunt Hitty; "for it's past supper time."
+
+Dick sprang, and had the table out in a trice, with an abundant clatter,
+and put up the leaves with quite an air. His mother, with the silent and
+gliding motion characteristic of her, quietly took out the table cloth
+and spread it, and began to set the cups and saucers in order, and to
+put on the plates and knives, while Aunt Hitty bustled about the tea.
+
+"I'll be glad when the war's over, for one reason," said she. "I'm
+pretty much tired of drinking sage tea, for one, I know."
+
+"Well, Aunt Hitty, how you scolded that pedler last week, that brought
+along that real tea!"
+
+"To be sure I did. S'pose I'd be taking any of his old tea, bought of
+the British?--fling every teacup in his face first."
+
+"Well, mother," said Dick, "I never exactly understood what it was about
+the tea, and why the Boston folks threw it all overboard."
+
+"Because there was an unlawful tax laid upon it, that the government had
+no right to lay. It wasn't much in itself; but it was a part of a whole
+system of oppressive meanness, designed to take away our rights, and
+make us slaves of a foreign power."
+
+"Slaves!" said Dick, straightening himself proudly. "Father a slave!"
+
+"But they would not be slaves! They saw clearly where it would all end,
+and they would not begin to submit to it in ever so little," said the
+mother.
+
+"I wouldn't, if I was they," said Dick.
+
+"Besides," said his mother, drawing him towards her, "it wasn't for
+themselves alone they did it. This is a great country, and it will be
+greater and greater; and it's very important that it should have free
+and equal laws, because it will by and by be so great. This country, if
+it is a free one, will be a light of the world--a city set on a hill,
+that cannot be hid; and all the oppressed and distressed from other
+countries shall come here to enjoy equal rights and freedom. This, dear
+boy, is why your father and uncles have gone to fight, and why they do
+stay and fight, though God knows what they suffer, and----" and the
+large blue eyes of the mother were full of tears; yet a strong, bright
+beam of pride and exultation shone through those tears.
+
+"Well, well, Roxy, you can always talk, every body knows," said Aunt
+Hitty, who had been not the least attentive listener of this little
+patriotic harangue; "but, you see, the tea is getting cold, and yonder I
+see the sleigh is at the door, and John's come; so let's set up our
+chairs for supper."
+
+The chairs were soon set up, when John, the eldest son, a lad of about
+fifteen, entered with a letter. There was one general exclamation, and
+stretching out of hands towards it. John threw it into his mother's lap;
+the tea table was forgotten, and the tea kettle sang unnoticed by the
+fire, as all hands crowded about mother's chair to hear the news. It was
+from Captain Ward, then in the American army, at Valley Forge. Mrs. Ward
+ran it over hastily, and then read it aloud. A few words we may extract.
+
+"There is still," it said, "much suffering. I have given away every pair
+of stockings you sent me, reserving to myself only one; for I will not
+be one whit better off than the poorest soldier that fights for his
+country. Poor fellows! it makes my heart ache sometimes to go round
+among them, and see them with their worn clothes and torn shoes, and
+often bleeding feet, yet cheerful and hopeful, and every one willing to
+do his very best. Often the spirit of discouragement comes over them,
+particularly at night, when, weary, cold, and hungry, they turn into
+their comfortless huts, on the snowy ground. Then sometimes there is a
+thought of home, and warm fires, and some speak of giving up; but next
+morning out come Washington's general orders--little short note, but
+it's wonderful the good it does! and then they all resolve to hold on,
+come what may. There are commissioners going all through the country to
+pick up supplies. If they come to you, I need not tell you what to do. I
+know all that will be in your hearts."
+
+"There, children, see what your father suffers," said the mother, "and
+what it costs these poor soldiers to gain our liberty."
+
+"Ephraim Scranton told me that the commissioners had come as far as the
+Three Mile Tavern, and that he rather 'spected they'd be along here
+to-night," said John, as he was helping round the baked beans to the
+silent company at the tea table.
+
+"To-night?--do tell, now!" said Aunt Hitty. "Then it's time we were
+awake and stirring. Let's see what can be got."
+
+"I'll send my new overcoat, for one," said John. "That old one isn't cut
+up yet, is it, Aunt Hitty?"
+
+"No," said Aunt Hitty; "I was laying out to cut it over next Wednesday,
+when Desire Smith could be here to do the tailoring.
+
+"There's the south room," said Aunt Hitty, musing; "that bed has the two
+old Aunt Ward blankets on it, and the great blue quilt, and two
+comforters. Then mother's and my room, two pair--four comforters--two
+quilts--the best chamber has got----"
+
+"O Aunt Hitty, send all that's in the best chamber! If any company
+comes, we can make it up off from our beds," said John. "I can send a
+blanket or two off from my bed, I know;--can't but just turn over in it,
+so many clothes on, now."
+
+"Aunt Hitty, take a blanket off from our bed," said Grace and Dick at
+once.
+
+"Well, well, we'll see," said Aunt Hitty, bustling up.
+
+Up rose grandmamma, with, great earnestness, now, and going into the
+next room, and opening a large cedar wood chest, returned, bearing in
+her arms two large snow white blankets, which she deposited flat on the
+table, just as Aunt Hitty was whisking off the table cloth.
+
+"Mortal! mother, what are you going to do?" said Aunt Hitty.
+
+"There," she said; "I spun those, every thread of 'em, when my name was
+Mary Evans. Those were my wedding blankets, made of real nice wool, and
+worked with roses in all the corners. I've got _them_ to give!" and
+grandmamma stroked and smoothed the blankets, and patted them down, with
+great pride and tenderness. It was evident she was giving something that
+lay very near her heart; but she never faltered.
+
+"La! mother, there's no need of that," said Aunt Hitty. "Use them on
+your own bed, and send the blankets off from that; they are just as good
+for the soldiers."
+
+"No, I shan't!" said the old lady, waxing warm; "'tisn't a bit too good
+for 'em. I'll send the very best I've got, before they shall suffer.
+Send 'em the _best_!" and the old lady gestured oratorically.
+
+They were interrupted by a rap at the door, and two men entered, and
+announced themselves as commissioned by Congress to search out supplies
+for the army. Now the plot thickens. Aunt Hitty flew in every
+direction,--through entry passage, meal room, milk room, down cellar, up
+chamber,--her cap border on end with patriotic zeal; and followed by
+John, Dick, and Grace, who eagerly bore to the kitchen the supplies that
+she turned out, while Mrs. Ward busied herself in quietly sorting and
+arranging, in the best possible travelling order, the various
+contributions that were precipitately launched on the kitchen floor.
+
+Aunt Hitty soon appeared in the kitchen with an armful of stockings,
+which, kneeling on the floor, she began counting and laying out.
+
+"There," she said, laying down a large bundle on some blankets, "that
+leaves just two pair apiece all round."
+
+"La!" said John, "what's the use of saving two pair for me? I can do
+with one pair, as well as father."
+
+"Sure enough," said his mother; "besides, I can knit you another pair in
+a day."
+
+"And I can do with one pair," said Dick.
+
+"Yours will be too small, young master, I guess," said one of the
+commissioners.
+
+"No," said Dick; "I've got a pretty good foot of my own, and Aunt Hitty
+will always knit my stockings an inch too long, 'cause she says I grow
+so. See here--these will do;" and the boy shook his, triumphantly.
+
+"And mine, too," said Grace, nothing doubting, having been busy all the
+time in pulling off her little stockings.
+
+"Here," she said to the man who was packing the things into a
+wide-mouthed sack; "here's mine," and her large blue eyes looked
+earnestly through her tears.
+
+Aunt Hitty flew at her. "Good land! the child's crazy. Don't think the
+men could wear your stockings--take 'em away!"
+
+Grace looked around with an air of utter desolation, and began to cry.
+"I wanted to give them something," said she. "I'd rather go barefoot on
+the snow all day than not send 'em any thing."
+
+"Give me the stockings, my child," said the old soldier, tenderly.
+"There, I'll take 'em, and show 'em to the soldiers, and tell them what
+the little girl said that sent them. And it will do them as much good as
+if they could wear them. They've got little girls at home, too." Grace
+fell on her mother's bosom completely happy, and Aunt Hitty only
+muttered,--
+
+"Every body does spile that child; and no wonder, neither!"
+
+Soon the old sleigh drove off from the brown house, tightly packed and
+heavily loaded. And Grace and Dick were creeping up to their little
+beds.
+
+"There's been something put on the altar of Liberty to-night, hasn't
+there, Dick?"
+
+"Yes, indeed," said Dick; and, looking up to his mother, he said, "But,
+mother, what did you give?"
+
+"I?" said the mother, musingly.
+
+"Yes, you, mother; what have you given to the country?"
+
+"All that I have, dears," said she, laying her hands gently on their
+heads--"my husband and my children!"
+
+
+II. THE ALTAR OF ----, OR 1850.
+
+The setting sun of chill December lighted up the solitary front window
+of a small tenement on ---- Street, in Boston, which we now have
+occasion to visit. As we push gently aside the open door, we gain sight
+of a small room, clean as busy hands can make it, where a neat, cheerful
+young mulatto woman is busy at an ironing table. A basket full of
+glossy-bosomed shirts, and faultless collars and wristbands, is beside
+her, into which she is placing the last few items with evident pride and
+satisfaction. A bright black-eyed boy, just come in from school, with
+his satchel of books over his shoulder, stands, cap in hand, relating to
+his mother how he has been at the head of his class, and showing his
+school tickets, which his mother, with untiring admiration, deposits in
+the little real china tea pot--which, as being their most reliable
+article of gentility, is made the deposit of all the money and most
+especial valuables of the family.
+
+"Now, Henry," says the mother, "look out and see if father is coming
+along the street;" and she begins filling the little black tea kettle,
+which is soon set singing on the stove.
+
+From the inner room now daughter Mary, a well-grown girl of thirteen,
+brings the baby, just roused from a nap, and very impatient to renew his
+acquaintance with his mamma.
+
+"Bless his bright eyes!--mother will take him," ejaculates the busy
+little woman, whose hands are by this time in a very floury condition,
+in the incipient stages of wetting up biscuit,--"in a minute;" and she
+quickly frees herself from the flour and paste, and, deputing Mary to
+roll out her biscuit, proceeds to the consolation and succor of young
+master.
+
+"Now, Henry," says the mother, "you'll have time, before supper, to take
+that basket of clothes up to Mr. Sheldin's; put in that nice bill, that
+you made out last night. I shall give you a cent for every bill you
+write out for me. What a comfort it is, now, for one's children to be
+gettin' learnin' so!"
+
+Henry shouldered the basket, and passed out the door, just as a
+neatly-dressed colored man walked up, with his pail and whitewash
+brushes.
+
+"O, you've come, father, have you? Mary, are the biscuits in? You may as
+well set the table, now. Well, George, what's the news?"
+
+"Nothing, only a pretty smart day's work. I've brought home five
+dollars, and shall have as much as I can do, these two weeks;" and the
+man, having washed his hands, proceeded to count out his change on the
+ironing table.
+
+"Well, it takes you to bring in the money," said the delighted wife;
+"nobody but you could turn off that much in a day."
+
+"Well, they do say--those that's had me once--that they never want any
+other hand to take hold in their rooms. I s'pose its a kinder practice
+I've got, and kinder natural!"
+
+"Tell ye what," said the little woman, taking down the family strong
+box,--to wit, the china tea pot, aforenamed,--and pouring the contents
+on the table, "we're getting mighty rich, now! We can afford to get
+Henry his new Sunday cap, and Mary her mousseline-de-laine dress--take
+care, baby, you rogue!" she hastily interposed, as young master made a
+dive at a dollar bill, for his share in the proceeds.
+
+"He wants something, too, I suppose," said the father; "let him get his
+hand in while he's young."
+
+The baby gazed, with round, astonished eyes, while mother, with some
+difficulty, rescued the bill from his grasp; but, before any one could
+at all anticipate his purpose, he dashed in among the small change with
+such zeal as to send it flying all over the table.
+
+"Hurrah! Bob's a smasher!" said the father, delighted; "he'll make it
+fly, he thinks;" and, taking the baby on his knee, he laughed merrily,
+as Mary and her mother pursued the rolling coin all over the room.
+
+"He knows now, as well as can be, that he's been doing mischief," said
+the delighted mother, as the baby kicked and crowed uproariously: "he's
+such a forward child, now, to be only six months old! O, you've no idea,
+father, how mischievous he grows;" and therewith the little woman began
+to roll and tumble the little mischief maker about, uttering divers
+frightful threats, which appeared to contribute, in no small degree, to
+the general hilarity.
+
+"Come, come, Mary," said the mother, at last, with a sudden burst of
+recollection; "you mustn't be always on your knees fooling with this
+child! Look in the oven at them biscuits."
+
+"They're done exactly, mother--just the brown!" and, with the word, the
+mother dumped baby on to his father's knee, where he sat contentedly
+munching a very ancient crust of bread, occasionally improving the
+flavor thereof by rubbing it on his father's coat sleeve.
+
+"What have you got in that blue dish, there?" said George, when the
+whole little circle were seated around the table.
+
+"Well, now, what _do_ you suppose?" said the little woman, delighted: "a
+quart of nice oysters--just for a treat, you know. I wouldn't tell you
+till this minute," said she, raising the cover.
+
+"Well," said George, "we both work hard for our money, and we don't owe
+any body a cent; and why shouldn't we have our treats, now and then, as
+well as rich folks?"
+
+And gayly passed the supper hour; the tea kettle sung, the baby crowed,
+and all chatted and laughed abundantly.
+
+"I'll tell you," said George, wiping his mouth; "wife, these times are
+quite another thing from what it used to be down in Georgia. I remember
+then old mas'r used to hire me out by the year; and one time, I
+remember, I came and paid him in two hundred dollars--every cent I'd
+taken. He just looked it over, counted it, and put it in his pocket
+book, and said, 'You are a good boy, George'--and he gave me _half a
+dollar_!"
+
+"I want to know, now!" said his wife.
+
+"Yes, he did, and that was every cent I ever got of it; and, I tell you,
+I was mighty bad off for clothes, them times."
+
+"Well, well, the Lord be praised, they're over, and you are in a free
+country now!" said the wife, as she rose thoughtfully from the table,
+and brought her husband the great Bible. The little circle were ranged
+around the stove for evening prayers.
+
+"Henry, my boy, you must read--you are a better reader than your
+father--thank God, that let you learn early!"
+
+The boy, with a cheerful readiness, read, "The Lord is my Shepherd," and
+the mother gently stilled the noisy baby, to listen to the holy words.
+Then all kneeled, while the father, with simple earnestness, poured out
+his soul to God.
+
+They had but just risen--the words of Christian hope and trust scarce
+died on their lips--when, lo! the door was burst open, and two men
+entered; and one of them, advancing, laid his hand on the father's
+shoulder. "This is the fellow," said he.
+
+"You are arrested in the name of the United States!" said the other.
+
+"Gentlemen, what is this?" said the poor man, trembling.
+
+"Are you not the property of _Mr. B._, of Georgia?" said the officer.
+
+"Gentlemen, I've been a free, hard-working man these ten years."
+
+"Yes; but you are arrested, on suit of Mr. B., as his slave."
+
+Shall we describe the leave taking--the sorrowing wife, the dismayed
+children, the tears, the anguish, that simple, honest, kindly home, in a
+moment so desolated? Ah, ye who defend this because it is law, think,
+for one hour, what if this that happens to your poor brother should
+happen to you!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was a crowded court room, and the man stood there to be tried--for
+life?--no; but for the life of life--for liberty!
+
+Lawyers hurried to and fro, buzzing, consulting, bringing
+authorities,--all anxious, zealous, engaged,--for what? To save a
+fellow-man from bondage? No; anxious and zealous lest he might escape;
+full of zeal to deliver him over to slavery. The poor man's anxious eyes
+follow vainly the busy course of affairs, from which he dimly learns
+that he is to be sacrificed--on the altar of the Union; and that his
+heart-break and anguish, and the tears of his wife, and the desolation
+of his children are, in the eyes of these well-informed men, only the
+bleat of a sacrifice, bound to the horns of the glorious American altar!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Again it is a bright day, and business walks brisk in this market.
+Senator and statesman, the learned and patriotic, are out, this day, to
+give their countenance to an edifying, and impressive, and truly
+American spectacle--the sale of a man! All the preliminaries of the
+scene are there; dusky-browed mothers, looking with sad eyes while
+speculators are turning round their children, looking at their teeth,
+and feeling of their arms; a poor, old, trembling woman, helpless, half
+blind, whose last child is to be sold, holds on to her bright boy with
+trembling hands. Husbands and wives, sisters and friends, all soon to be
+scattered like the chaff of the threshing floor, look sadly on each
+other with poor nature's last tears; and among them walk briskly, glib,
+oily politicians, and thriving men of law, letters, and religion,
+exceedingly sprightly, and in good spirits--for why?--it isn't _they_
+that are going to be sold; it's only somebody else. And so they are very
+comfortable, and look on the whole thing as quite a matter-of-course
+affair, and, as it is to be conducted to-day, a decidedly valuable and
+judicious exhibition.
+
+And now, after so many hearts and souls have been knocked and thumped
+this way and that way by the auctioneer's hammer, comes the
+_instructive_ part of the whole; and the husband and father, whom we saw
+in his simple home, reading and praying with his children, and rejoicing
+in the joy of his poor ignorant heart that he lived in a free country,
+is now set up to be admonished of his mistake.
+
+Now there is great excitement, and pressing to see, and exultation and
+approbation; for it is important and interesting to see a man put down
+that has tried to be a _free man_.
+
+"That's he, is it? Couldn't come it, could he?" says one.
+
+"No; and he will never come it, that's more," says another,
+triumphantly.
+
+"I don't generally take much interest in scenes of this nature," says a
+grave representative; "but I came here to-day for the sake of the
+_principle_!"
+
+"Gentlemen," says the auctioneer, "we've got a specimen here that some
+of your northern abolitionists would give any price for; but they shan't
+have him! no! we've looked out for that. The man that buys him must give
+bonds never to sell him to go north again!"
+
+"Go it!" shout the crowd; "good! good! hurrah!" "An impressive idea!"
+says a senator; "a noble maintaining of principle!" and the man is bid
+off, and the hammer falls with a last crash on his heart, his hopes, his
+manhood, and he lies a bleeding wreck on the altar of Liberty!
+
+Such was the altar in 1776; such is the altar in 1850!
+
+
+
+
+A SCHOLAR'S ADVENTURES IN THE COUNTRY.
+
+
+"If we could only live in the country," said my wife, "how much easier
+it would be to live!"
+
+"And how much cheaper!" said I.
+
+"To have a little place of our own, and raise our own things!" said my
+wife. "Dear me! I am heart sick when I think of the old place at home,
+and father's great garden. What peaches and melons we used to have! what
+green peas and corn! Now one has to buy every cent's worth of these
+things--and how they taste! Such wilted, miserable corn! Such peas!
+Then, if we lived in the country, we should have our own cow, and milk
+and cream in abundance; our own hens and chickens. We could have custard
+and ice cream every day."
+
+"To say nothing of the trees and flowers, and all that," said I.
+
+The result of this little domestic duet was, that my wife and I began to
+ride about the city of ---- to look up some pretty, interesting cottage,
+where our visions of rural bliss might be realized. Country residences,
+near the city, we found to bear rather a high price; so that it was no
+easy matter to find a situation suitable to the length of our purse;
+till, at last, a judicious friend suggested a happy expedient.
+
+"Borrow a few hundred," he said, "and give your note; you can save
+enough, very soon, to make the difference. When you raise every thing
+you eat, you know it will make your salary go a wonderful deal further."
+
+"Certainly it will," said I. "And what can be more beautiful than to buy
+places by the simple process of giving one's note?--'tis so neat, and
+handy, and convenient!"
+
+"Why," pursued my friend, "there is Mr. B., my next door neighbor--'tis
+enough to make one sick of life in the city to spend a week out on his
+farm. Such princely living as one gets! And he assures me that it costs
+him very little--scarce any thing, perceptible, in fact."
+
+"Indeed!" said I; "few people can say that."
+
+"Why," said my friend, "he has a couple of peach trees for every month,
+from June till frost, that furnish as many peaches as he, and his wife,
+and ten children can dispose of. And then he has grapes, apricots, etc..;
+and last year his wife sold fifty dollars' worth from her strawberry
+patch, and had an abundance for the table besides. Out of the milk of
+only one cow they had butter enough to sell three or four pounds a week,
+besides abundance of milk and cream; and madam has the butter for her
+pocket money. This is the way country people manage."
+
+"Glorious!" thought I. And my wife and I could scarce sleep, all night,
+for the brilliancy of our anticipations!
+
+To be sure our delight was somewhat damped the next day by the coldness
+with which my good old uncle, Jeremiah Standfast, who happened along at
+precisely this crisis, listened to our visions.
+
+"You'll find it _pleasant_, children, in the summer time," said the
+hard-fisted old man, twirling his blue-checked pocket handkerchief; "but
+I'm sorry you've gone in debt for the land."
+
+"O, but we shall soon save that--it's so much cheaper living in the
+country!" said both of us together.
+
+"Well, as to that, I don't think it is to city-bred folks."
+
+Here I broke in with a flood of accounts of Mr. B.'s peach trees, and
+Mrs. B.'s strawberries, butter, apricots, etc.., etc..; to which the old
+gentleman listened with such a long, leathery, unmoved quietude of
+visage as quite provoked me, and gave me the worst possible opinion of
+his judgment. I was disappointed too; for, as he was reckoned one of the
+best practical farmers in the county, I had counted on an enthusiastic
+sympathy with all my agricultural designs.
+
+"I tell you what, children," he said, "a body can live in the country,
+as you say, amazin' cheap; but then a body must _know how_"--and my
+uncle spread his pocket handkerchief thoughtfully out upon his knees,
+and shook his head gravely.
+
+I thought him a terribly slow, stupid old body, and wondered how I had
+always entertained so high an opinion of his sense.
+
+"He is evidently getting old," said I to my wife; "his judgment is not
+what it used to be."
+
+At all events, our place was bought, and we moved out, well pleased, the
+first morning in April, not at all remembering the ill savor of that day
+for matters of wisdom. Our place was a pretty cottage, about two miles
+from the city, with grounds that had been tastefully laid out. There was
+no lack of winding paths, arbors, flower borders, and rosebushes, with
+which my wife was especially pleased. There was a little green lot,
+strolling off down to a brook, with a thick grove of trees at the end,
+where our cow was to be pastured.
+
+The first week or two went on happily enough in getting our little new
+pet of a house into trimness and good order; for, as it had been long
+for sale, of course there was any amount of little repairs that had been
+left to amuse the leisure hours of the purchaser. Here a door step had
+given away, and needed replacing; there a shutter hung loose, and wanted
+a hinge; abundance of glass needed setting; and as to painting and
+papering, there was no end to that. Then my wife wanted a door cut here,
+to make our bed room more convenient, and a china closet knocked up
+there, where no china closet before had been. We even ventured on
+throwing out a bay window from our sitting room, because we had luckily
+lighted on a workman who was so cheap that it was an actual saving of
+money to employ him. And to be sure our darling little cottage did lift
+up its head wonderfully for all this garnishing and furbishing. I got up
+early every morning, and nailed up the rosebushes, and my wife got up
+and watered geraniums, and both flattered ourselves and each other on
+our early hours and thrifty habits. But soon, like Adam and Eve in
+Paradise, we found our little domain to ask more hands than ours to get
+it into shape. So says I to my wife, "I will bring out a gardener when I
+come next time, and he shall lay the garden out, and get it into order;
+and after that, I can easily keep it by the work of my leisure hours."
+
+Our gardener was a very sublime sort of man,--an Englishman, and, of
+course, used to laying out noblemen's places,--and we became as
+grasshoppers in our own eyes when he talked of lord this and that's
+estate, and began to question us about our carriage drive and
+conservatory; and we could with difficulty bring the gentleman down to
+any understanding of the humble limits of our expectations: merely to
+dress out the walks, and lay out a kitchen garden, and plant potatoes,
+turnips, beets, and carrots, was quite a descent for him. In fact, so
+strong were his æsthetic preferences, that he persuaded my wife to let
+him dig all the turf off from a green square opposite the bay window,
+and to lay it out into divers little triangles, resembling small pieces
+of pie, together with circles, mounds, and various other geometrical
+ornaments, the planning and planting of which soon engrossed my wife's
+whole soul. The planting of the potatoes, beets, carrots, etc.., was
+intrusted to a raw Irishman; for, as to me, to confess the truth, I
+began to fear that digging did not agree with me. It is true that I was
+exceedingly vigorous at first, and actually planted with my own hands
+two or three long rows of potatoes; after which I got a turn of
+rheumatism in my shoulder, which lasted me a week. Stooping down to
+plant beets and radishes gave me a vertigo, so that I was obliged to
+content myself with a general superintendence of the garden; that is to
+say, I charged my Englishman to see that my Irishman did his duty
+properly, and then got on to my horse and rode to the city. But about
+one part of the matter, I must say, I was not remiss; and that is, in
+the purchase of seed and garden utensils. Not a day passed that I did
+not come home with my pockets stuffed with, choice seeds, roots, etc..;
+and the variety of my garden utensils was unequalled. There was not a
+pruning hook, of any pattern, not a hoe, rake, or spade, great or small,
+that I did not have specimens of; and flower seeds and bulbs were also
+forthcoming in liberal proportions. In fact, I had opened an account at
+a thriving seed store; for, when a man is driving business on a large
+scale, it is not always convenient to hand out the change for every
+little matter, and buying things on account is as neat and agreeable a
+mode of acquisition as paying bills with one's notes.
+
+"You know we must have a cow," said my wife, the morning of our second
+week. Our friend the gardener, who had now worked with us at the rate of
+two dollars a day for two weeks, was at hand in a moment in our
+emergency. We wanted to buy a cow, and he had one to sell--a wonderful
+cow, of a real English breed. He would not sell her for any money,
+except to oblige particular friends; but as we had patronized him, we
+should have her for forty dollars. How much we were obliged to him! The
+forty dollars were speedily forthcoming, and so also was the cow.
+
+"What makes her shake her head in that way?" said my wife,
+apprehensively, as she observed the interesting beast making sundry
+demonstrations with her horns. "I hope she's gentle."
+
+The gardener fluently demonstrated that the animal was a pattern of all
+the softer graces, and that this head-shaking was merely a little
+nervous affection consequent on the embarrassment of a new position. We
+had faith to believe almost any thing at this time, and therefore came
+from the barn yard to the house as much satisfied with our purchase as
+Job with his three thousand camels and five hundred yoke of oxen. Her
+quondam master milked her for us the first evening, out of a delicate
+regard to her feelings as a stranger, and we fancied that we discerned
+forty dollars' worth of excellence in the very quality of the milk.
+
+But alas! the next morning our Irish girl came in with a most rueful
+face. "And is it milking that baste you'd have me be after?" she said;
+"sure, and she won't let me come near her?"
+
+"Nonsense, Biddy!" said I; "you frightened her, perhaps; the cow is
+perfectly gentle;" and with the pail on my arm, I sallied forth. The
+moment madam saw me entering the cow yard, she greeted me with a very
+expressive flourish of her horns.
+
+"This won't do," said I, and I stopped. The lady evidently was serious
+in her intentions of resisting any personal approaches. I cut a cudgel,
+and putting on a bold face, marched towards her, while Biddy followed
+with her milking stool. Apparently, the beast saw the necessity of
+temporizing, for she assumed a demure expression, and Biddy sat down to
+milk. I stood sentry, and if the lady shook her head, I shook my stick;
+and thus the milking operation proceeded with tolerable serenity and
+success.
+
+"There!" said I, with dignity, when the frothing pail was full to the
+brim. "That will do, Biddy," and I dropped my stick. Dump! came madam's
+heel on the side of the pail, and it flew like a rocket into the air,
+while the milky flood showered plentifully over me, and a new broadcloth
+riding-coat that I had assumed for the first time that morning. "Whew!"
+said I, as soon as I could get my breath from this extraordinary shower
+bath; "what's all this?" My wife came running towards the cow yard, as I
+stood with the milk streaming from my hair, filling my eyes, and
+dropping from the tip of my nose; and she and Biddy performed a
+recitative lamentation over me in alternate strophes, like the chorus in
+a Greek tragedy. Such was our first morning's experience; but as we had
+announced our bargain with some considerable flourish of trumpets among
+our neighbors and friends, we concluded to hush the matter up as much as
+possible.
+
+"These very superior cows are apt to be cross," said I; "we must bear
+with it as we do with the eccentricities of genius; besides, when she
+gets accustomed to us, it will be better."
+
+Madam was therefore installed into her pretty pasture lot, and my wife
+contemplated with pleasure the picturesque effect of her appearance,
+reclining on the green slope of the pasture lot, or standing ankle deep
+in the gurgling brook, or reclining under the deep shadows of the trees.
+She was, in fact, a handsome cow, which may account, in part, for some
+of her sins; and this consideration inspired me with some degree of
+indulgence towards her foibles.
+
+But when I found that Biddy could never succeed in getting near her in
+the pasture, and that any kind of success in the milking operations
+required my vigorous personal exertions morning and evening, the matter
+wore a more serious aspect, and I began to feel quite pensive and
+apprehensive. It is very well to talk of the pleasures of the milkmaid
+going out in the balmy freshness of the purple dawn; but imagine a poor
+fellow pulled out of bed on a drizzly, rainy morning, and equipping
+himself for a scamper through a wet pasture lot, rope in hand, at the
+heels of such a termagant as mine! In fact, madam established a regular
+series of exercises, which had all to be gone through before she would
+suffer herself to be captured; as, first, she would station herself
+plump in the middle of a marsh, which lay at the lower part of the lot,
+and look very innocent and absent-minded, as if reflecting on some
+sentimental subject. "Suke! Suke! Suke!" I ejaculate, cautiously
+tottering along the edge of the marsh, and holding out an ear of corn.
+The lady looks gracious, and comes forward, almost within reach of my
+hand. I make a plunge to throw the rope over her horns, and away she
+goes, kicking up mud and water into my face in her flight, while I,
+losing my balance, tumble forward into the marsh. I pick myself up, and,
+full of wrath, behold her placidly chewing her cud on the other side,
+with the meekest air imaginable, as who should say, "I hope you are not
+hurt, sir." I dash through swamp and bog furiously, resolving to carry
+all by a _coup de main_. Then follows a miscellaneous season of dodging,
+scampering, and bopeeping, among the trees of the grove, interspersed
+with sundry occasional races across the bog aforesaid. I always wondered
+how I caught her every day; and when I had tied her head to one post and
+her heels to another, I wiped the sweat from my brow, and thought I was
+paying dear for the eccentricities of genius. A genius she certainly
+was, for besides her surprising agility, she had other talents equally
+extraordinary. There was no fence that she could not take down; nowhere
+that she could not go. She took the pickets off the garden fence at her
+pleasure, using her horns as handily as I could use a claw hammer.
+Whatever she had a mind to, whether it were a bite in the cabbage
+garden, or a run in the corn patch, or a foraging expedition into the
+flower borders, she made herself equally welcome and at home. Such a
+scampering and driving, such cries of "Suke here" and "Suke there," as
+constantly greeted our ears, kept our little establishment in a constant
+commotion. At last, when she one morning made a plunge at the skirts of
+my new broadcloth frock coat, and carried off one flap on her horns, my
+patience gave out, and I determined to sell her.
+
+As, however, I had made a good story of my misfortunes among my friends
+and neighbors, and amused them with sundry whimsical accounts of my
+various adventures in the cow-catching line, I found, when I came to
+speak of selling, that there was a general coolness on the subject, and
+nobody seemed disposed to be the recipient of my responsibilities. In
+short, I was glad, at last, to get fifteen dollars for her, and
+comforted myself with thinking that I had at least gained twenty-five
+dollars worth of experience in the transaction, to say nothing of the
+fine exercise.
+
+I comforted my soul, however, the day after, by purchasing and bringing
+home to my wife a fine swarm of bees.
+
+"Your bee, now," says I, "is a really classical insect, and breathes of
+Virgil and the Augustan age--and then she is a domestic, tranquil,
+placid creature. How beautiful the murmuring of a hive near our
+honeysuckle of a calm, summer evening! Then they are tranquilly and
+peacefully amassing for us their stores of sweetness, while they lull us
+with their murmurs. What a beautiful image of disinterested
+benevolence!"
+
+My wife declared that I was quite a poet, and the beehive was duly
+installed near the flower plots, that the delicate creatures might have
+the full benefit of the honeysuckle and mignonette. My spirits began to
+rise. I bought three different treatises on the rearing of bees, and
+also one or two new patterns of hives, and proposed to rear my bees on
+the most approved model. I charged all the establishment to let me know
+when there was any indication of an emigrating spirit, that I might be
+ready to receive the new swarm into my patent mansion.
+
+Accordingly, one afternoon, when I was deep in an article that I was
+preparing for the North American Review, intelligence was brought me
+that a swarm had risen. I was on the alert at once, and discovered, on
+going out, that the provoking creatures had chosen the top of a tree
+about thirty feet high to settle on. Now my books had carefully
+instructed me just how to approach the swarm and cover them with a new
+hive; but I had never contemplated the possibility of the swarm being,
+like Haman's gallows, forty cubits high. I looked despairingly upon the
+smooth-bark tree, which rose, like a column, full twenty feet, without
+branch or twig. "What is to be done?" said I, appealing to two or three
+neighbors. At last, at the recommendation of one of them, a ladder was
+raised against the tree, and, equipped with a shirt outside of my
+clothes, a green veil over my head, and a pair of leather gloves on my
+hands, I went up with a saw at my girdle to saw off the branch on which
+they had settled, and lower it by a rope to a neighbor, similarly
+equipped, who stood below with the hive.
+
+As a result of this manoeuvre the fastidious little insects were at
+length fairly installed at housekeeping in my new patent hive, and,
+rejoicing in my success, I again sat down to my article.
+
+That evening my wife and I took tea in our honeysuckle arbor, with our
+little ones and a friend or two, to whom I showed my treasures, and
+expatiated at large on the comforts and conveniences of the new patent
+hive.
+
+But alas for the hopes of man! The little ungrateful wretches--what must
+they do but take advantage of my over-sleeping myself, the next morning,
+to clear out for new quarters without so much as leaving me a P. P. C.!
+Such was the fact; at eight o'clock I found the new patent hive as good
+as ever; but the bees I have never seen from that day to this!
+
+"The rascally little conservatives!" said I; "I believe they have never
+had a new idea from the days of Virgil down, and are entirely unprepared
+to appreciate improvements."
+
+Meanwhile the seeds began to germinate in our garden, when we found, to
+our chagrin, that, between John Bull and Paddy, there had occurred
+sundry confusions in the several departments. Radishes had been planted
+broadcast, carrots and beets arranged in hills, and here and there a
+whole paper of seed appeared to have been planted bodily. My good old
+uncle, who, somewhat to my confusion, made me a call at this time, was
+greatly distressed and scandalized by the appearance of our garden. But,
+by a deal of fussing, transplanting, and replanting, it was got into
+some shape and order. My uncle was rather troublesome, as careful old
+people are apt to be--annoying us by perpetual inquiries of what we gave
+for this, and that, and running up provoking calculations on the final
+cost of matters; and we began to wish that his visits might be as short
+as would be convenient.
+
+But when, on taking leave, he promised to send us a fine young cow of
+his own raising, our hearts rather smote us for our impatience.
+
+"'Tain't any of your new breeds, nephew," said the old man, "yet I can
+say that she's a gentle, likely young crittur, and better worth forty
+dollars than many a one that's cried up for Ayrshire or Durham; and you
+shall be quite welcome to her."
+
+We thanked him, as in duty bound, and thought that if he was full of
+old-fashioned notions, he was no less full of kindness and good will.
+
+And now, with a new cow, with our garden beginning to thrive under the
+gentle showers of May, with our flower borders blooming, my wife and I
+began to think ourselves in Paradise. But alas! the same sun and rain
+that warmed our fruit and flowers brought up from the earth, like sulky
+gnomes, a vast array of purple-leaved weeds, that almost in a night
+seemed to cover the whole surface of the garden beds. Our gardeners both
+being gone, the weeding was expected to be done by me--one of the
+anticipated relaxations of my leisure hours.
+
+"Well," said I, in reply to a gentle intimation from my wife, "when my
+article is finished, I'll take a day and weed all up clean."
+
+Thus days slipped by, till at length the article was despatched, and I
+proceeded to my garden. Amazement! Who could have possibly foreseen that
+any thing earthly could grow so fast in a few days! There were no
+bounds, no alleys, no beds, no distinction of beet and carrot, nothing
+but a flourishing congregation of weeds nodding and bobbing in the
+morning breeze, as if to say, "We hope you are well, sir--we've got the
+ground, you see!" I began to explore, and to hoe, and to weed. Ah! did
+any body ever try to clean a neglected carrot or beet bed, or bend his
+back in a hot sun over rows of weedy onions! He is the man to feel for
+my despair! How I weeded, and sweat, and sighed! till, when high noon
+came on, as the result of all my toils, only three beds were cleaned!
+And how disconsolate looked the good seed, thus unexpectedly delivered
+from its sheltering tares, and laid open to a broiling July sun! Every
+juvenile beet and carrot lay flat down, wilted and drooping, as if, like
+me, they had been weeding, instead of being weeded.
+
+"This weeding is quite a serious matter," said I to my wife; "the fact
+is, I must have help about it!"
+
+"Just what I was myself thinking," said my wife. "My flower borders are
+all in confusion, and my petunia mounds so completely overgrown, that
+nobody would dream what they were meant for!"
+
+In short, it was agreed between us that we could not afford the expense
+of a full-grown man to keep our place; yet we must reënforce ourselves
+by the addition of a boy, and a brisk youngster from the vicinity was
+pitched upon as the happy addition. This youth was a fellow of decidedly
+quick parts, and in one forenoon made such a clearing in our garden that
+I was delighted. Bed after bed appeared to view, all cleared and dressed
+out with such celerity that I was quite ashamed of my own slowness,
+until, on examination, I discovered that he had, with great
+impartiality, pulled up both weeds and vegetables.
+
+This hopeful beginning was followed up by a succession of proceedings
+which should be recorded for the instruction of all who seek for help
+from the race of boys. Such a loser of all tools, great and small; such
+an invariable leaver-open of all gates, and letter-down of bars; such a
+personification of all manner of anarchy and ill luck, had never before
+been seen on the estate. His time, while I was gone to the city, was
+agreeably diversified with roosting on the fence, swinging on the gates,
+making poplar whistles for the children, hunting eggs, and eating
+whatever fruit happened to be in season, in which latter accomplishment
+he was certainly quite distinguished. After about three weeks of this
+kind of joint gardening, we concluded to dismiss Master Tom from the
+firm, and employ a man.
+
+"Things must be taken care of," said I, "and I cannot do it. 'Tis out of
+the question." And so the man was secured.
+
+But I am making a long story, and may chance to outrun the sympathies of
+my readers. Time would fail me to tell of the distresses manifold that
+fell upon me--of cows dried up by poor milkers; of hens that wouldn't
+set at all, and hens that, despite all law and reason, would set on one
+egg; of hens that, having hatched families, straightway led them into
+all manner of high grass and weeds, by which means numerous young chicks
+caught premature colds and perished; and how, when I, with manifold
+toil, had driven one of these inconsiderate gadders into a coop, to
+teach her domestic habits, the rats came down upon her and slew every
+chick in one night; how my pigs were always practising gymnastic
+exercises over the fence of the sty, and marauding in the garden. I
+wonder that Fourier never conceived the idea of having his garden land
+ploughed by pigs; for certainly they manifest quite a decided elective
+attraction for turning up the earth.
+
+When autumn came, I went soberly to market, in the neighboring city, and
+bought my potatoes and turnips like any other man; for, between all the
+various systems of gardening pursued, I was obliged to confess that my
+first horticultural effort was a decided failure. But though all my
+rural visions had proved illusive, there were some very substantial
+realities. My bill at the seed store, for seeds, roots, and tools, for
+example, had run up to an amount that was perfectly unaccountable; then
+there were various smaller items, such as horse shoeing, carriage
+mending--for he who lives in the country and does business in the city
+must keep his vehicle and appurtenances. I had always prided myself on
+being an exact man, and settling every account, great and small, with
+the going out of the old year; but this season I found myself sorely put
+to it. In fact, had not I received a timely lift from my good old uncle,
+I should have made a complete break down. The old gentleman's
+troublesome habit of ciphering and calculating, it seems, had led him
+beforehand to foresee that I was not exactly in the money-making line,
+nor likely to possess much surplus revenue to meet the note which I had
+given for my place; and, therefore, he quietly paid it himself, as I
+discovered, when, after much anxiety and some sleepless nights, I went
+to the holder to ask for an extension of credit.
+
+"He was right, after all," said I to my wife; "'to live cheap in the
+country, a body must know how.'"
+
+
+
+
+"WOMAN, BEHOLD THY SON!"
+
+
+The golden rays of a summer afternoon were streaming through the windows
+of a quiet apartment, where every thing was the picture of orderly
+repose. Gently and noiselessly they glide, gilding the glossy old
+chairs, polished by years of care; fluttering with flickering gleam on
+the bookcases, by the fire, and the antique China vases on the mantel,
+and even coqueting with sparkles of fanciful gayety over the face of the
+perpendicular, sombre old clock, which, though at times apparently
+coaxed almost to the verge of a smile, still continued its inevitable
+tick, as for a century before.
+
+On the hearth rug lay outstretched a great, lazy-looking, Maltese cat,
+evidently enjoying the golden beam that fell upon his sober sides, and
+sleepily opening and shutting his great green eyes, as if lost in
+luxurious contemplation.
+
+But the most characteristic figure in the whole picture was that of an
+aged woman, who sat quietly rocking to and fro in a great chair by the
+side of a large round table covered with books. There was a quiet beauty
+in that placid face--that silvery hair brushed neatly under the snowy
+border of the cap. Every line in that furrowed face told some tale of
+sorrow long assuaged, and passions hushed to rest, as on the calm ocean
+shore the golden-furrowed sand shows traces of storms and fluctuations
+long past.
+
+On the round, green-covered table beside her lay the quiet companion of
+her age, the large Bible, whose pages, like the gates of the celestial
+city, were not shut at all by day, a few old standard books, and the
+pleasant, rippling knitting, whose dreamy, irresponsible monotony is the
+best music of age.
+
+A fair, girlish form was seated by the table; the dress bonnet had
+fallen back on her shoulders, the soft cheeks were suffused and earnest,
+the long lashes and the veiled eyes were eloquent of subdued feeling, as
+she read aloud from the letter in her hand. It was from "our Harry," a
+name to both of them comprising all that was dear and valued on earth,
+for he was "the only son of his mother, and she a widow;" yet had he not
+been always an only one; flower after flower on the tree of her life had
+bloomed and died, and gradually, as waters cut off from many channels,
+the streams of love had centred deeper in this last and only one.
+
+And, in truth, Harry Sargeant was all that a mother might desire or be
+proud of. Generous, high-minded, witty, and talented, and with a strong
+and noble physical development, he seemed born to command the love of
+women. The only trouble with him was, in common parlance, that he was
+too clever a fellow; he was too social, too impressible, too versatile,
+too attractive, and too much in demand for his own good. He always drew
+company about him, as honey draws flies, and was indispensable every
+where and to every body; and it needs a steady head and firm nerves for
+such a one to escape ruin.
+
+Harry's course in college, though brilliant in scholarship, had been
+critical and perilous. He was a decided favorite with the faculty and
+students; yet it required a great deal of hard winking and adroit
+management on the part of his instructors to bring him through without
+infringement of college laws and proprieties: not that he ever meant the
+least harm in his life, but that some extra generous impulse, some
+quixotic generosity, was always tumbling him, neck and heels, into
+somebody's scrapes, and making him part and parcel in every piece of
+mischief that was going on.
+
+With all this premised, there is no need to say that Harry was a special
+favorite with ladies; in truth, it was a confessed fact among his
+acquaintances, that, whereas dozens of creditable, respectable,
+well-to-do young men might besiege female hearts with every proper
+formality, waiting at the gates and watching at the posts of the doors
+in vain, yet before him all gates and passages seemed to fly open of
+their own accord. Nevertheless, there was in his native village one
+quiet maiden who held alone in her hand the key that could unlock his
+heart in return, and carried silently in her own the spell that could
+fetter that brilliant, restless spirit; and she it was, of the
+thoughtful brow and downcast eyes, whom we saw in our picture, bending
+over the letter with his mother.
+
+That mother Harry loved to idolatry. She was to his mind an
+impersonation of all that was lovely in womanhood, hallowed and sainted
+by age, by wisdom, by sorrow; and his love for her was a beautiful union
+of protective tenderness, with veneration; and to his Ellen it seemed
+the best and most sacred evidence of the nobleness of his nature, and of
+the worth of the heart which he had pledged to her.
+
+Nevertheless, there was a danger overhanging the heads of the three--a
+little cloud, no bigger than a man's hand, rising in the horizon of
+their hopes, yet destined to burst upon them, dark and dreadful, in a
+future day.
+
+In those scenes of college hilarity where Harry had been so
+indispensable, the bright, poetic wine cup had freely circulated, and
+often amid the flush of conversation, and the genial excitement of the
+hour, he had drank freer and deeper than was best.
+
+He said, it is true, that he cared nothing for it, that it was nothing
+to him, that it never affected him, and all those things that young men
+always say when the cup of Circe is beginning its work with them.
+Friends were annoyed, became anxious, remonstrated; but he laughed at
+their fears, and insisted on knowing himself best. At last, with a
+sudden start and shiver of his moral nature, he was awakened to a
+dreadful perception of his danger, and resolved on decided and
+determinate resistance. During this period he came to Cincinnati to
+establish himself in business, and as at this time the temperance
+reformation was in full tide of success there, he found every thing to
+strengthen his resolution; temperance meetings and speeches were all the
+mode; young men of the first standing were its patrons and supporters;
+wine was quite in the vocative, and seemed really in danger of being
+voted out of society. In such a turn of affairs, to sign a temperance
+pledge and keep it became an easy thing; temptation was scarce presented
+or felt; he was offered the glass in no social circle, met its
+attraction nowhere, and flattered himself that he had escaped so great a
+danger easily and completely.
+
+His usual fortune of social popularity followed him, and his visiting
+circle became full as large and importunate as a young man with any
+thing else to do need desire. He was diligent in his application to
+business, began to be mentioned with approbation by the magnates as a
+rising young man, and had prospects daily nearing of competence and
+home, and all that man desires--visions, alas! never to be realized.
+
+For after a while the tide that had risen so high began imperceptibly to
+decline. Men that had made eloquent speeches on temperance had now other
+things to look to. Fastidious persons thought that matters had, perhaps,
+been carried too far, and ladies declared that it was old and
+threadbare, and getting to be cant and stuff; and the ever-ready wine
+cup was gliding back into many a circle, as if, on sober second
+thoughts, the community was convinced that it was a friend unjustly
+belied.
+
+There is no point in the history of reform, either in communities or
+individuals, so dangerous as that where danger seems entirely past. As
+long as a man thinks his health failing, he watches, he diets, and will
+undergo the most heroic self-denial; but let him once set himself down
+as cured, and how readily does he fall back to one soft indulgent habit
+after another, all tending to ruin every thing that he has before done!
+
+So in communities. Let intemperance rage, and young men go to ruin by
+dozens, and the very evil inspires the remedy; but when the trumpet has
+been sounded, and the battle set in array, and the victory only said and
+sung in speeches, and newspaper paragraphs, and temperance odes, and
+processions, then comes the return wave; people cry, Enough; the
+community, vastly satisfied, lies down to sleep in its laurels; and then
+comes the hour of danger.
+
+But let not the man who has once been swept down the stream of
+intemperate excitement, almost to the verge of ruin, dream of any point
+of security for him. He is like one who has awakened in the rapids of
+Niagara, and with straining oar and wild prayers to Heaven, forced his
+boat upward into smoother water, where the draught of the current seems
+to cease, and the banks smile, and all looks beautiful, and weary from
+rowing, lays by his oar to rest and dream; he knows not that under that
+smooth water still glides a current, that while he dreams, is
+imperceptibly but surely hurrying him back whence there is no return.
+
+Harry was just in this perilous point; he viewed danger as long past,
+his self-confidence was fully restored, and in his security he began to
+neglect those lighter outworks of caution which he must still guard who
+does not mean, at last, to surrender the citadel.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Now, girls and boys," said Mrs. G. to her sons and daughters, who were
+sitting round a centre table covered with notes of invitation, and all
+the preliminary _et cetera_ of a party, "what shall we have on Friday
+night?--tea, coffee, lemonade, wine? of course not."
+
+"And why not wine, mamma?" said the young ladies; "the people are
+beginning to have it; they had wine at Mrs. A.'s and Mrs. B.'s."
+
+"Well, your papa thinks it won't do,--the boys are members of the
+temperance society,--and _I_ don't think, girls, it will _do_ myself."
+
+There are many good sort of people, by the by, who always view moral
+questions in this style of phraseology--not what is right, but what will
+"_do_."
+
+The girls made an appropriate reply to this view of the subject, by
+showing that Mrs. A. and Mrs. B. had done the thing, and nobody seemed
+to make any talk.
+
+The boys, who thus far in the conversation had been thoughtfully rapping
+their boots with their canes, now interposed, and said that they would
+rather not have wine if it wouldn't look shabby.
+
+"But it _will_ look shabby," said Miss Fanny. "Lemons, you know, are
+scarce to be got for any price, and as for lemonade made of sirup, it's
+positively vulgar and detestable; it tastes just like cream of tartar
+and spirits of turpentine."
+
+"For my part," said Emma, "I never did see the harm of wine, even when
+people were making the most fuss about it; to be sure rum and brandy and
+all that are bad, but wine----"
+
+"And so convenient to get," said Fanny; "and no decent young man ever
+gets drunk at parties, so it can't do any harm; besides, one must have
+something, and, as I said, it will look shabby not to have it."
+
+Now, there is no imputation that young men are so much afraid of,
+especially from the lips of ladies, as that of shabbiness; and as it
+happened in this case as most others that the young ladies were the most
+efficient talkers, the question was finally carried on their side.
+
+Mrs. G. was a mild and a motherly woman, just the one fitted to inspire
+young men with confidence and that _home_ feeling which all men desire
+to find somewhere. Her house was a free and easy ground, social for most
+of the young people of her acquaintance, and Harry was a favorite and
+domesticated visitor.
+
+During the height of the temperance reform, fathers and brothers had
+given it their open and decided support, and Mrs. G.--always easily
+enlisted for any good movement--sympathized warmly in their endeavors.
+The great fault was, that too often incident to the gentleness of
+woman--a want of self-reliant principle. Her virtue was too much the
+result of mere sympathy, too little of her own conviction. Hence, when
+those she loved grew cold towards a good cause, they found no sustaining
+power in her, and those who were relying on her judgment and opinions
+insensibly controlled them. Notwithstanding, she was a woman that always
+acquired a great influence over young men, and Harry had loved and
+revered her with something of the same sentiment that he cherished
+towards his own mother.
+
+It was the most brilliant party of the season. Every thing was got up in
+faultless taste, and Mrs. G. was in the very spirit of it. The girls
+were looking beautifully; the rooms were splendid; there was enough and
+not too much of light and warmth, and all were doing their best to
+please and be cheerful. Harry was more brilliant than usual, and in fact
+outdid himself. Wit and mind were the spirit of the hour.
+
+"Just taste this tokay," said one of the sisters to him; "it has just
+been sent us from Europe, and is said to be a genuine article."
+
+"You know I'm not in that line," said Harry, laughing and coloring.
+
+"Why not?" said another young lady, taking a glass.
+
+"O, the temperance pledge, you know! I am one of the pillars of the
+order, a very apostle; it will never do for me."
+
+"Pshaw! those temperance pledges are like the proverb, 'something
+musty,'" said a gay girl.
+
+"Well, but you said you had a headache the beginning of the evening, and
+you really look pale; you certainly need it as a medicine," said Fanny.
+"I'll leave it to mamma;" and she turned to Mrs. G., who stood gayly
+entertaining a group of young people.
+
+"Nothing more likely," replied she, gayly; "I think, Harry, you have
+looked pale lately; a glass of wine might do you good."
+
+Had Mrs. G. known all of Harry's past history and temptations, and had
+she not been in just the inconsiderate state that very good ladies
+sometimes get into at a party, she would sooner have sacrificed her
+right hand than to have thrown this observation into the scales; but she
+did, and they turned the balance for him.
+
+"You shall be my doctor," he said, as, laughing and coloring, he drank
+the glass--and where was the harm? One glass of wine kills nobody; and
+yet if a man falls, and knows that in that glass he sacrifices principle
+and conscience, every drop may be poison to the soul and body.
+
+Harry felt at that very time that a great internal barrier had given
+way; nor was that glass the only one that evening; another, and another,
+and another followed; his spirits rose with the wild and feverish gayety
+incident to his excitable temperament, and what had been begun in the
+society of ladies was completed late at night in the gentlemen's saloon.
+
+Nobody ever knew, or thought, or recognized that that one party had
+forever undone this young man; and yet so it was. From that night his
+struggle of moral resistance was fatally impaired; not that he yielded
+at once and without desperate efforts and struggles, but gradually each
+struggle grew weaker, each reform shorter, each resolution more
+inefficient; yet at the close of the evening all those friends, mother,
+brother, and sister, flattered themselves that every thing had gone on
+so well that the next week Mrs. H. thought that it would do to give wine
+at the party because Mrs. G. had done it last week, and no harm had come
+of it.
+
+In about a year after, the G.'s began to notice and lament the habits of
+their young friend, and all unconsciously to wonder how such a fine
+young man should be so led astray.
+
+Harry was of a decided and desperate nature; his affections and his
+moral sense waged a fierce war with the terrible tyrant--the madness
+that had possessed him; and when at last all hope died out, he
+determined to avoid the anguish and shame of a drunkard's life by a
+suicide's death. Then came to the trembling, heart-stricken mother and
+beloved one a wild, incoherent letter of farewell, and he disappeared
+from among the living.
+
+In the same quiet parlor, where the sunshine still streams through
+flickering leaves, it now rested on the polished sides and glittering
+plate of a coffin; there at last lay the weary at rest, the soft,
+shining gray hair was still gleaming as before, but deeper furrows on
+the wan cheek, and a weary, heavy languor over the pale, peaceful face,
+told that those gray hairs had been brought down in sorrow to the grave.
+Sadder still was the story on the cloudless cheek and lips of the young
+creature bending in quiet despair over her. Poor Ellen! her life's
+thread, woven with these two beloved ones, was broken.
+
+And may all this happen?--nay, does it not happen?--just such things
+happen to young men among us every day. And do they not lead in a
+thousand ways to sorrows just like these? And is there not a
+responsibility on all who ought to be the guardians of the safety and
+purity of the other sex, to avoid setting before them the temptation to
+which so often and so fatally manhood has yielded? What is a paltry
+consideration of fashion, compared to the safety of sons, brothers, and
+husbands? The greatest fault of womanhood is slavery to custom; and yet
+who but woman makes custom? Are not all the usages and fashions of
+polite society more her work than that of man? And let every mother and
+sister think of the mothers and sisters of those who come within the
+range of their influence, and say to themselves, when in thoughtlessness
+they discuss questions affecting their interests, "Behold thy
+brother!"--"Behold thy son!"
+
+
+
+
+THE CORAL RING.
+
+
+"There is no time of life in which young girls are so thoroughly selfish
+as from fifteen to twenty," said Edward Ashton, deliberately, as he laid
+down a book he had been reading, and leaned over the centre table.
+
+"You insulting fellow!" replied a tall, brilliant-looking creature, who
+was lounging on an ottoman hard by, over one of Dickens's last works.
+
+"Truth, coz, for all that," said the gentleman, with the air of one who
+means to provoke a discussion.
+
+"Now, Edward, this is just one of your wholesale declarations, for
+nothing only to get me into a dispute with you, you know," replied the
+lady. "On your conscience, now, (if you have one,) is it not so?"
+
+"My conscience feels quite easy, cousin, in subscribing to that
+sentiment as my confession of faith," replied the gentleman, with
+provoking _sang froid_.
+
+"Pshaw! it's one of your fusty old bachelor notions. See what comes,
+now, of your living to your time of life without a wife--disrespect for
+the sex, and all that. Really, cousin, your symptoms are getting
+alarming."
+
+"Nay, now, Cousin Florence," said Edward, "you are a girl of moderately
+good sense, with all your nonsense. Now don't you (I know you _do_)
+think just so too?"
+
+"Think just so too!--do you hear the creature?" replied Florence. "No,
+sir; you can speak for yourself in this matter, but I beg leave to enter
+my protest when you speak for me too."
+
+"Well, now, where is there, coz, among all our circle, a young girl that
+has any sort of purpose or object in life, to speak of, except to make
+herself as interesting and agreeable as possible? to be admired, and to
+pass her time in as amusing a way as she can? Where will you find one
+between fifteen and twenty that has any serious regard for the
+improvement and best welfare of those with whom she is connected at all,
+or that modifies her conduct, in the least, with reference to it? Now,
+cousin, in very serious earnest, you have about as much real character,
+as much earnestness and depth of feeling, and as much good sense, when
+one can get at it, as any young lady of them all; and yet, on your
+conscience, can you say that you live with any sort of reference to any
+body's good, or to any thing but your own amusement and gratification?"
+
+"What a shocking adjuration!" replied the lady; "prefaced, too, by a
+three-story compliment. Well, being so adjured, I must think to the best
+of my ability. And now, seriously and soberly, I don't see as I am
+selfish. I do all that I have any occasion to do for any body. You know
+that we have servants to do every thing that is necessary about the
+house, so that there is no occasion for my making any display of
+housewifery excellence. And I wait on mamma if she has a headache, and
+hand papa his slippers and newspaper, and find Uncle John's spectacles
+for him twenty times a day, (no small matter, that,) and then----"
+
+"But, after all, what is the object and purpose of your life?"
+
+"Why, I haven't any. I don't see how I can have any--that is, as I am
+made. Now, you know, I've none of the fussing, baby-tending,
+herb-tea-making recommendations of Aunt Sally, and divers others of the
+class commonly called _useful_. Indeed, to tell the truth, I think
+useful persons are commonly rather fussy and stupid. They are just like
+the boneset, and hoarhound, and catnip--very necessary to be raised in a
+garden, but not in the least ornamental."
+
+"And you charming young ladies, who philosophize in kid slippers and
+French dresses, are the tulips and roses--very charming, and delightful,
+and sweet, but fit for nothing on earth but parlor ornaments."
+
+"Well, parlor ornaments are good in their way," said the young lady,
+coloring, and looking a little vexed.
+
+"So you give up the point, then," said the gentleman, "that you girls
+are good for--just to amuse yourselves, amuse others, look pretty, and
+be agreeable."
+
+"Well, and if we behave well to our parents, and are amiable in the
+family--I don't know--and yet," said Florence, sighing, "I have often
+had a sort of vague idea of something higher that we might become; yet,
+really, what more than this is expected of us? what else can we do?"
+
+"I used to read in old-fashioned novels about ladies visiting the sick
+and the poor," replied Edward. "You remember Coelebs in Search of a
+Wife?"
+
+"Yes, truly; that is to say, I remember the story part of it, and the
+love scenes; but as for all those everlasting conversations of Dr.
+Barlow, Mr. Stanley, and nobody knows who else, I skipped those, of
+course. But really, this visiting and tending the poor, and all that,
+seems very well in a story, where the lady goes into a picturesque
+cottage, half overgrown with honeysuckle, and finds an emaciated, but
+still beautiful woman propped up by pillows. But come to the downright
+matter of fact of poking about in all these vile, dirty alleys, and
+entering little dark rooms, amid troops of grinning children, and
+smelling codfish and onions, and nobody knows what--dear me, my
+benevolence always evaporates before I get through. I'd rather pay any
+body five dollars a day to do it for me than do it myself. The fact is,
+that I have neither fancy nor nerves for this kind of thing."
+
+"Well, granting, then, that you can do nothing for your fellow-creatures
+unless you are to do it in the most genteel, comfortable, and
+picturesque manner possible, is there not a great field for a woman like
+you, Florence, in your influence over your associates? With your talents
+for conversation, your tact, and self-possession, and ladylike gift of
+saying any thing you choose, are you not responsible, in some wise, for
+the influence you exert over those by whom you are surrounded?"
+
+"I never thought of that," replied Florence.
+
+"Now, you remember the remarks that Mr. Fortesque made the other evening
+on the religious services at church?"
+
+"Yes, I do; and I thought then he was too bad."
+
+"And I do not suppose there was one of you ladies in the room that did
+not think so too; but yet the matter was all passed over with smiles,
+and with not a single insinuation that he had said any thing unpleasing
+or disagreeable."
+
+"Well, what could we do? One does not want to be rude, you know."
+
+"Do! Could you not, Florence, you who have always taken the lead in
+society, and who have been noted for always being able to say and do
+what you please--could you not have shown him that those remarks were
+unpleasing to you, as decidedly as you certainly would have done if they
+had related to the character of your father or brother? To my mind, a
+woman of true moral feeling should consider herself as much insulted
+when her religion is treated with contempt as if the contempt were shown
+to herself. Do you not _know_ the power which is given to you women to
+awe and restrain us in your presence, and to guard the sacredness of
+things which you treat as holy? Believe me, Florence, that Fortesque,
+infidel as he is, would reverence a woman with whom he dared not trifle
+on sacred subjects."
+
+Florence rose from her seat with a heightened color, her dark eyes
+brightening through tears.
+
+"I am sure what you say is just, cousin, and yet I have never thought of
+it before. I will--I am determined to begin, after this, to live with
+some better purpose than I have done."
+
+"And let me tell you, Florence, in starting a new course, as in learning
+to walk, taking the first step is every thing. Now, I have a first step
+to propose to you."
+
+"Well, cousin----"
+
+"Well, you know, I suppose, that among your train of adorers you number
+Colonel Elliot?"
+
+Florence smiled.
+
+"And perhaps you do not know, what is certainly true, that, among the
+most discerning and cool part of his friends, Elliot is considered as a
+lost man."
+
+"Good Heavens! Edward, what do you mean?"
+
+"Simply this: that with all his brilliant talents, his amiable and
+generous feelings, and his success in society, Elliot has not
+self-control enough to prevent his becoming confirmed in intemperate
+habits."
+
+"I never dreamed of this," replied Florence. "I knew that he was
+spirited and free, fond of society, and excitable; but never suspected
+any thing beyond."
+
+"Elliot has tact enough never to appear in ladies' society when he is
+not in a fit state for it," replied Edward; "but yet it is so."
+
+"But is he really so bad?"
+
+"He stands just on the verge, Florence; just where a word fitly spoken
+might turn him. He is a noble creature, full of all sorts of fine
+impulses and feelings; the only son of a mother who dotes on him, the
+idolized brother of sisters who love him as you love your brother,
+Florence; and he stands where a word, a look--so they be of the right
+kind--might save him."
+
+"And why, then, do you not speak to him?" said Florence.
+
+"Because I am not the best person, Florence. There is another who can do
+it better; one whom he admires, who stands in a position which would
+forbid his feeling angry; a person, cousin, whom I have heard in gayer
+moments say that she knew how to say any thing she pleased without
+offending any body."
+
+"O Edward!" said Florence, coloring; "do not bring up my foolish
+speeches against me, and do not speak as if I ought to interfere in this
+matter, for indeed I cannot do it. I never could in the world, I am
+certain I could not."
+
+"And so," said Edward, "you, whom I have heard say so many things which
+no one else could say, or dared to say--you, who have gone on with your
+laughing assurance in your own powers of pleasing, shrink from trying
+that power when a noble and generous heart might be saved by it. You
+have been willing to venture a great deal for the sake of amusing
+yourself and winning admiration; but you dare not say a word for any
+high or noble purpose. Do you not see how you confirm what I said of the
+selfishness of you women?"
+
+"But you must remember, Edward, this is a matter of great delicacy."
+
+"That word _delicacy_ is a charming cover-all in all these cases,
+Florence. Now, here is a fine, noble-spirited young man, away from his
+mother and sisters, away from any family friend who might care for him,
+tempted, betrayed, almost to ruin, and a few words from you, said as a
+woman knows how to say them, might be his salvation. But you will coldly
+look on and see him go to destruction, because you have too much
+_delicacy_ to make the effort--like the man that would not help his
+neighbor out of the water because he had never had the honor of an
+_introduction_."
+
+"But, Edward, consider how peculiarly fastidious Elliot is--how jealous
+of any attempt to restrain and guide him."
+
+"And just for that reason it is that _men_ of his acquaintance cannot do
+any thing with him. But what are you women made with so much tact and
+power of charming for, if it is not to do these very things that we
+cannot do? It is a delicate matter--true; and has not Heaven given to
+you a fine touch and a fine eye for just such delicate matters? Have you
+not seen, a thousand times, that what might be resented as an
+impertinent interference on the part of a man, comes to us as a
+flattering expression of interest from the lips of a woman?"
+
+"Well, but, cousin, what would you have me do? How would you have me do
+it?" said Florence, earnestly.
+
+"You know that Fashion, which makes so many wrong turns, and so many
+absurd ones, has at last made one good one, and it is now a fashionable
+thing to sign the temperance pledge. Elliot himself would be glad to do
+it, but he foolishly committed himself against it in the outset, and now
+feels bound to stand to his opinion. He has, too, been rather rudely
+assailed by some of the apostles of the new state of things, who did not
+understand the peculiar points of his character; in short, I am afraid
+that he will feel bound to go to destruction for the sake of supporting
+his own opinion. Now, if I should undertake with him, he might shoot me;
+but I hardly think there is any thing of the sort to be apprehended in
+your case. Just try your enchantments; you have bewitched wise men into
+doing foolish things before now; try, now, if you can't bewitch a
+foolish man into doing a wise thing."
+
+Florence smiled archly, but instantly grew more thoughtful.
+
+"Well, cousin," she said, "I will try. Though you are liberal in your
+ascriptions of power, yet I can put the matter to the test of
+experiment."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Florence Elmore was, at the time we speak of, in her twentieth year.
+Born of one of the wealthiest families in ----, highly educated and
+accomplished, idolized by her parents and brothers, she had entered the
+world as one born to command. With much native nobleness and magnanimity
+of character, with warm and impulsive feelings, and a capability of
+every thing high or great, she had hitherto lived solely for her own
+amusement, and looked on the whole brilliant circle by which she was
+surrounded, with all its various actors, as something got up for her
+special diversion. The idea of influencing any one, for better or worse,
+by any thing she ever said or did, had never occurred to her. The crowd
+of admirers of the other sex, who, as a matter of course, were always
+about her, she regarded as so many sources of diversion; but the idea of
+feeling any sympathy with them as human beings, or of making use of her
+power over them for their improvement, was one that had never entered
+her head.
+
+Edward Ashton was an old bachelor cousin of Florence's, who, having
+earned the title of oddity, in general society, availed himself of it to
+exercise a turn for telling the truth to the various young ladies of his
+acquaintance, especially to his fair cousin Florence. We remark, by the
+by, that these privileged truth tellers are quite a necessary of life to
+young ladies in the full tide of society, and we really think it would
+be worth while for every dozen of them to unite to keep a person of this
+kind on a salary, for the benefit of the whole. However, that is nothing
+to our present purpose; we must return to our fair heroine, whom we
+left, at the close of the last conversation, standing in deep revery, by
+the window.
+
+"It's more than half true," she said to herself--"more than half. Here
+am I, twenty years old, and never have thought of any thing, never done
+any thing, except to amuse and gratify myself; no purpose, no object;
+nothing high, nothing dignified, nothing worth living for! Only a parlor
+ornament--heigh ho! Well, I really do believe I could do something with
+this Elliot; and yet how dare I try?"
+
+Now, my good readers, if you are anticipating a love story, we must
+hasten to put in our disclaimer; you are quite mistaken in the case. Our
+fair, brilliant heroine was, at this time of speaking, as heart-whole as
+the diamond on her bosom, which reflected the light in too many
+sparkling rays ever to absorb it. She had, to be sure, half in earnest,
+half in jest, maintained a bantering, platonic sort of friendship with
+George Elliot. She had danced, ridden, sung, and sketched with him; but
+so had she with twenty other young men; and as to coming to any thing
+tender with such a quick, brilliant, restless creature, Elliot would as
+soon have undertaken to sentimentalize over a glass of soda water. No;
+there was decidedly no love in the case.
+
+"What a curious ring that is!" said Elliot to her, a day or two after,
+as they were reading together.
+
+"It is a knight's ring," said she, playfully, as she drew it off and
+pointed to a coral cross set in the gold, "a ring of the red-cross
+knights. Come, now, I've a great mind to bind you to my service with
+it."
+
+"Do, lady fair," said Elliot, stretching out his hand for the ring.
+
+"Know, then," said she, "if you take this pledge, that you must obey
+whatever commands I lay upon you in its name."
+
+"I swear!" said Elliot, in the mock heroic, and placed the ring on his
+finger.
+
+An evening or two after, Elliot attended Florence to a party at Mrs.
+B.'s. Every thing was gay and brilliant, and there was no lack either of
+wit or wine. Elliot was standing in a little alcove, spread with
+refreshments, with a glass of wine in his hand. "I forbid it; the cup is
+poisoned!" said a voice in his ear. He turned quickly, and Florence was
+at his side. Every one was busy, with laughing and talking, around, and
+nobody saw the sudden start and flush that these words produced, as
+Elliot looked earnestly in the lady's face. She smiled, and pointed
+playfully to the ring; but after all, there was in her face an
+expression of agitation and interest which she could not repress, and
+Elliot felt, however playful the manner, that she was _in earnest_; and
+as she glided away in the crowd, he stood with his arms folded, and his
+eyes fixed on the spot where she disappeared.
+
+"Is it possible that I am suspected--that there are things said of me as
+if I were in danger?" were the first thoughts that flashed through his
+mind. How strange that a man may appear doomed, given up, and lost, to
+the eye of every looker on, before he begins to suspect himself! This
+was the first time that any defined apprehension of loss of character
+had occurred to Elliot, and he was startled as if from a dream.
+
+"What the deuse is the matter with you, Elliot? You look as solemn as a
+hearse!" said a young man near by.
+
+"Has Miss Elmore cut you?" said another.
+
+"Come, man, have a glass," said a third.
+
+"Let him alone--he's bewitched," said a fourth. "I saw the spell laid on
+him. None of us can say but our turn may come next."
+
+An hour later, that evening, Florence was talking with her usual spirit
+to a group who were collected around her, when, suddenly looking up, she
+saw Elliot, standing in an abstracted manner, at one of the windows that
+looked out into the balcony.
+
+"He is offended, I dare say," she thought; "but what do I care? For once
+in my life I have tried to do a right thing--a good thing. I have risked
+giving offence for less than this, many a time." Still, Florence could
+not but feel tremulous, when, a few moments after, Elliot approached her
+and offered his arm for a promenade. They walked up and down the room,
+she talking volubly, and he answering yes and no, till at length, as if
+by accident, he drew her into the balcony which overhung the garden. The
+moon was shining brightly, and every thing without, in its placid
+quietness, contrasted strangely with the busy, hurrying scene within.
+
+"Miss Elmore," said Elliot, abruptly, "may I ask you, sincerely, had you
+any design in a remark you made to me in the early part of the evening?"
+
+Florence paused, and though habitually the most practised and
+self-possessed of women, the color actually receded from her cheek, as
+she answered,--
+
+"Yes, Mr. Elliot; I must confess that I had."
+
+"And is it possible, then, that you have heard any thing?"
+
+"I have heard, Mr. Elliot, that which makes me tremble for you, and for
+those whose life, I know, is bound up in you; and, tell me, were it well
+or friendly in me to know that such things were said, that such danger
+existed, and not to warn you of it?"
+
+Elliot stood for a few moments in silence.
+
+"Have I offended? Have I taken too great a liberty?" said Florence,
+gently.
+
+Hitherto Elliot had only seen in Florence the self-possessed, assured,
+light-hearted woman of fashion; but there was a reality and depth of
+feeling in the few words she had spoken to him, in this interview, that
+opened to him entirely a new view in her character.
+
+"No, Miss Elmore," replied he, earnestly, after some pause; "I may be
+_pained_, offended I cannot be. To tell the truth, I have been
+thoughtless, excited, dazzled; my spirits, naturally buoyant, have
+carried me, often, too far; and lately I have painfully suspected my own
+powers of resistance. I have really felt that I needed help, but have
+been too proud to confess, even to myself, that I needed it. You, Miss
+Elmore, have done what, perhaps, no one else could have done. I am
+overwhelmed with gratitude, and I shall bless you for it to the latest
+day of my life. I am ready to pledge myself to any thing you may ask on
+this subject."
+
+"Then," said Florence, "do not shrink from doing what is safe, and
+necessary, and right for you to do, because you have once said you would
+not do it. You understand me."
+
+"Precisely," replied Elliot: "and you shall be obeyed."
+
+It was not more than a week before the news was circulated that even
+George Elliot had signed the pledge of temperance. There was much
+wondering at this sudden turn among those who had known his utter
+repugnance to any measure of the kind, and the extent to which he had
+yielded to temptation; but few knew how fine and delicate had been the
+touch to which his pride had yielded.
+
+
+
+
+ART AND NATURE.
+
+
+"Now, girls," said Mrs. Ellis Grey to her daughters, "here is a letter
+from George Somers, and he is to be down here next week; so I give you
+fair warning."
+
+"Warning?" said Fanny Grey, looking up from her embroidery; "what do you
+mean by that, mamma?"
+
+"Now that's just you, Fanny," said the elder sister, laughing. "You dear
+little simplicity, you can never understand any thing unless it is
+stated as definitely as the multiplication table."
+
+"But we need no warning in the case of Cousin George, I'm sure," said
+Fanny.
+
+"Cousin George, to be sure! Do you hear the little innocent?" said
+Isabella, the second sister. "I suppose, Fanny, you never heard that he
+had been visiting all the courts of Europe, seeing all the fine women,
+stone, picture, and real, that are to be found. Such an _amateur_ and
+_connoisseur_!"
+
+"Besides having received a fortune of a million or so," said Emma. "I
+dare say now, Fanny, you thought he was coming home to make dandelion
+chains, and play with button balls, as he used to do when he was a
+little boy."
+
+"Fanny will never take the world as it is," said Mrs. Grey. "I do
+believe she will be a child as long as she lives." Mrs. Grey said this
+as if she were sighing over some radical defect in the mind of her
+daughter, and the delicate cheek of Fanny showed a tint somewhat deeper
+as she spoke, and she went on with her embroidery in silence.
+
+Mrs. Grey had been left, by the death of her husband, sole guardian of
+the three girls whose names have appeared on the page. She was an
+active, busy, ambitious woman, one of the sort for whom nothing is ever
+finished enough, or perfect enough, without a few touches, and dashes,
+and emendations; and, as such people always make a mighty affair of
+education, Mrs. Grey had made it a life's enterprise to order, adjust,
+and settle the character of her daughters; and when we use the word
+_character_, as Mrs. Grey understood it, we mean it to include both
+face, figure, dress, accomplishments, as well as those more unessential
+items, mind and heart.
+
+Mrs. Grey had determined that her daughters should be something
+altogether out of the common way; and accordingly she had conducted the
+training of the two eldest with such zeal and effect, that every trace
+of an original character was thoroughly educated out of them. All their
+opinions, feelings, words, and actions, instead of gushing naturally
+from their hearts, were, according to the most approved authority,
+diligently compared and revised. Emma, the eldest, was an imposing,
+showy girl, of some considerable talent, and she had been assiduously
+trained to make a sensation as a woman of ability and intellect. Her
+mind had been filled with information on all sorts of subjects, much
+faster than she had power to digest or employ it; and the standard which
+her ambitious mother had set for her being rather above the range of her
+abilities, there was a constant sensation of effort in her keeping up to
+it. In hearing her talk you were constantly reminded, "I am a woman of
+intellect--I am entirely above the ordinary level of woman;" and on all
+subjects she was so anxiously and laboriously, well and
+circumstantially, informed, that it was enough to make one's head ache
+to hear her talk.
+
+Isabella, the second daughter, was, _par excellence_, a beauty--a tall,
+sparkling, Cleopatra-looking girl, whose rich color, dazzling eyes, and
+superb figure might have bid defiance to art to furnish an extra charm;
+nevertheless, each grace had been as indefatigably drilled and
+manoeuvred as the members of an artillery company. Eyes, lips,
+eyelashes, all had their lesson; and every motion of her sculptured
+limbs, every intonation of her silvery voice, had been studied,
+considered, and corrected, till even her fastidious mother could discern
+nothing that was wanting. Then were added all the graces of _belles
+lettres_--all the approved rules of being delighted with music,
+painting, and poetry--and last of all came the tour of the continent;
+travelling being generally considered a sort of pumice stone, for
+rubbing down the varnish, and giving the very last touch to character.
+
+During the time that all this was going on, Miss Fanny, whom we now
+declare our heroine, had been growing up in the quietude of her mother's
+country seat, and growing, as girls are apt to, much faster than her
+mother imagined. She was a fair, slender girl, with a purity and
+simplicity of appearance, which, if it be not in itself beauty, had all
+the best effect of beauty, in interesting and engaging the heart.
+
+She looked not so much beautiful as lovable. Her character was in
+precise correspondence with her appearance; its first and chief element
+was feeling; and to this add fancy, fervor, taste, enthusiasm almost up
+to the point of genius, and just common sense enough to keep them all in
+order, and you will have a very good idea of the mind of Fanny Grey.
+
+Delightfully passed the days with Fanny during the absence of her
+mother, while, without thought of rule or compass, she sang her own
+songs, painted flowers, and sketched landscapes from nature, visited
+sociably all over the village, where she was a great favorite, ran about
+through the fields, over fences, or in the woods with her little cottage
+bonnet, and, above all, built her own little castles in the air without
+any body to help pull them down, which we think about the happiest
+circumstance in her situation.
+
+But affairs wore a very different aspect when Mrs. Grey with her
+daughters returned from Europe, as full of foreign tastes and notions as
+people of an artificial character generally do return.
+
+Poor Fanny was deluged with a torrent of new ideas; she heard of styles
+of appearance and styles of beauty, styles of manner and styles of
+conversation, this, that, and the other air, a general effect and a
+particular effect, and of four hundred and fifty ways of producing an
+impression--in short, it seemed to her that people ought to be of
+wonderful consequence to have so many things to think and to say about
+the how and why of every word and action.
+
+Mrs. Grey, who had no manner of doubt of her own ability to make over a
+character, undertook the point with Fanny as systematically as one would
+undertake to make over an old dress. Poor Fanny, who had an
+unconquerable aversion to trying on dresses or settling points in
+millinery, went through with most exemplary meekness an entire
+transformation as to all externals; but when Mrs. Grey set herself at
+work upon her mind, and tastes, and opinions, the matter became somewhat
+more serious; for the buoyant feeling and fanciful elements of her
+character were as incapable of being arranged according to rule as the
+sparkling water drops are of being strung into necklaces and earrings,
+or the gay clouds of being made into artificial flowers. Some warm
+natural desire or taste of her own was forever interfering with her
+mother's _régime_; some obstinate little "Fannyism" would always put up
+its head in defiance of received custom; and, as her mother and sisters
+pathetically remarked, do what you would with her, she would always come
+out herself after all.
+
+After trying laboriously to conform to the pattern which was daily set
+before her, she came at last to the conclusion that some natural
+inferiority must forever prevent her aspiring to accomplish any thing in
+that way.
+
+"If I can't be what my mother wishes, I'll at least be myself," said she
+one day to her sisters, "for if I try to alter I shall neither be myself
+nor any body else;" and on the whole her mother and sisters came to the
+same conclusion. And in truth they found it a very convenient thing to
+have one in the family who was not studying effect or aspiring to be any
+thing in particular.
+
+It was very agreeable to Mrs. Grey to have a daughter to sit with her
+when she had the sick headache, while the other girls were entertaining
+company in the drawing room below. It was very convenient to her sisters
+to have some one whose dress took so little time that she had always a
+head and a pair of hands at their disposal, in case of any toilet
+emergency. Then she was always loving and affectionate, entirely willing
+to be outtalked and outshone on every occasion; and that was another
+advantage.
+
+As to Isabella and Emma, the sensation that they made in society was
+enough to have gratified a dozen ordinary belles. All that they said,
+and did, and wore, was instant and unquestionable precedent; and young
+gentlemen, all starch and perfume, twirled their laced pocket
+handkerchiefs, and declared on their honor that they knew not which was
+the most overcoming, the genius and wit of Miss Emma, or the bright eyes
+of Miss Isabella; though it was an agreed point that between them both,
+not a heart in the gay world remained in its owner's possession--a thing
+which might have a serious sound to one who did not know the character
+of these articles, often the most trifling item in the inventory of
+worldly possessions. And all this while, all that was said of our
+heroine was something in this way: "I believe there is another
+sister--is there not?"
+
+"Yes, there is a quiet little blue-eyed lady, who never has a word to
+say for herself--quite amiable I'm told."
+
+Now, it was not a fact that Miss Fanny never had a word to say for
+herself. If people had seen her on a visit at any one of the houses
+along the little green street of her native village, they might have
+learned that her tongue could go fast enough.
+
+But in lighted drawing rooms, and among buzzing voices, and surrounded
+by people who were always saying things because such things were proper
+to be said, Fanny was always dizzy, and puzzled, and unready; and for
+fear that she would say something that she should not, she concluded to
+say nothing at all; nevertheless, she made good use of her eyes, and
+found a very quiet amusement in looking on to see how other people
+conducted matters.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Well, Mr. George Somers is actually arrived at Mrs. Grey's country seat,
+and there he sits with Miss Isabella in the deep recess of that window,
+where the white roses are peeping in so modestly.
+
+"To be sure," thought Fanny to herself, as she quietly surveyed him
+looming up through the shade of a pair of magnificent whiskers, and
+heard him passing the shuttlecock of compliment back and forth with the
+most assured and practised air in the world,--"to be sure, I was a child
+in imagining that I should see Cousin George Somers. I'm sure this
+magnificent young gentleman, full of all utterance and knowledge, is not
+the cousin that I used to feel so easy with; no, indeed;" and Fanny gave
+a half sigh, and then went out into the garden to water her geraniums.
+
+For some days Mr. Somers seemed to feel put upon his reputation to
+sustain the character of gallant, _savant, connoisseur_, etc.., which
+every one who makes the tour of the continent is expected to bring home
+as a matter of course; for there is seldom a young gentleman who knows
+he has qualifications in this line, who can resist the temptation of
+showing what he can do. Accordingly he discussed tragedies, and reviews,
+and ancient and modern customs with Miss Emma; and with Miss Isabella
+retouched her drawings and exhibited his own; sported the most choice
+and _recherché_ style of compliment at every turn, and, in short,
+flattered himself, perhaps justly, that he was playing the irresistible
+in a manner quite equal to that of his fair cousins.
+
+Now, all this while Miss Fanny was mistaken in one point, for Mr. George
+Somers, though an exceedingly fine gentleman, had, after all, quite a
+substratum of reality about him, of real heart, real feeling, and real
+opinion of his own; and the consequence was, that when tired of the
+effort of _conversing_ he really longed to find somebody to _talk_ to;
+and in this mood he one evening strolled into the library, leaving the
+gay party in the drawing room to themselves. Miss Fanny was there, quite
+intent upon a book of selections from the old English poets.
+
+"Really, Miss Fanny," said Mr. Somers, "you are very sparing of the
+favor of your company to us this evening."
+
+"O, I presume my company is not much missed," said Fanny, with a smile.
+
+"You must have a poor opinion of our taste, then," said Mr. Somers.
+
+"Come, come, Mr. Somers," replied Fanny, "you forget the person you are
+talking to; it is not at all necessary for you to compliment me; nobody
+ever does--so you may feel relieved of that trouble."
+
+"Nobody ever does, Miss Fanny; pray, how is that?"
+
+"Because I'm not the sort of person to say such things to."
+
+"And pray, what sort of person ought one to be, in order to have such
+things said?" replied Mr. Somers.
+
+"Why, like Sister Isabella, or like Emma. You understand I am a sort of
+little nobody; if any one wastes fine words on me, I never know what to
+make of them."
+
+"And pray, what must one say to you?" said Mr. Somers, quite amused.
+
+"Why, what they really think and really feel; and I am always puzzled by
+any thing else."
+
+Accordingly, about a half an hour afterwards, you might have seen the
+much admired Mr. Somers once more transformed into the Cousin George,
+and he and Fanny engaged in a very interesting _tête-à-tête_ about old
+times and things.
+
+Now, you may skip across a fortnight from this evening, and then look in
+at the same old library, just as the setting sun is looking in at its
+western window, and you will see Fanny sitting back a little in the
+shadow, with one straggling ray of light illuminating her pure childish
+face, and she is looking up at Mr. George Somers, as if in some sudden
+perplexity; and, dear me, if we are not mistaken, our young gentleman is
+blushing.
+
+"Why, Cousin George," says the lady, "what _do_ you mean?"
+
+"I thought I spoke plainly enough, Fanny," replied Cousin George, in a
+tone that _might_ have made the matter plain enough, to be sure.
+
+Fanny laughed outright, and the gentleman looked terribly serious.
+
+"Indeed, now, don't be angry," said she, as he turned away with a vexed
+and mortified air; "indeed, now, I can't help laughing, it seems to me
+so odd; what _will_ they all think of you?"
+
+"It's of no consequence to me what they think," said Mr. Somers. "I
+think, Fanny, if you had the heart I gave you credit for, you might have
+seen my feelings before now."
+
+"Now, do sit down, my _dear_ cousin," said Fanny, earnestly, drawing him
+into a chair, "and tell me, how could I, poor little Miss Fanny Nobody,
+how _could_ I have thought any such thing with such sisters as I have? I
+did think that you _liked_ me, that you knew more of my real feelings
+than mamma and sisters; but that you should--that you ever should--why,
+I am astonished that you did not fall in love with Isabella."
+
+"That would have met your feelings, then?" said George, eagerly, and
+looking as if he would have looked through her, eyes, soul, and all.
+
+"No, no, indeed," she said, turning away her head; "but," added she,
+quickly, "you'll lose all your credit for good taste. Now, tell me,
+seriously, what do you like me for?"
+
+"Well, then, Fanny, I can give you the best reason. I like you for being
+a real, sincere, natural girl--for being simple in your tastes, and
+simple in your appearance, and simple in your manners, and for having
+heart enough left, as I hope, to love plain George Somers, with all his
+faults, and not Mr. Somers's reputation, or Mr. Somers's establishment."
+
+"Well, this is all very reasonable to me, of course," said Fanny, "but
+it will be so much Greek to poor mamma."
+
+"I dare say your mother could never understand how seeing the very acme
+of cultivation in all countries should have really made my eyes ache,
+and long for something as simple as green grass or pure water, to rest
+them on. I came down here to find it among my cousins, and I found in
+your sisters only just such women as I have seen and admired all over
+Europe, till I was tired of admiring. Your mother has achieved what she
+aimed at, perfectly; I know of no circle that could produce higher
+specimens; but it is all art, triumphant art, after all, and I have so
+strong a current of natural feeling running through my heart that I
+could never be happy except with a fresh, simple, impulsive character."
+
+"Like me, you are going to say," said Fanny, laughing. "Well, _I'll_
+admit that you are right. It would be a pity that you should not have
+one vote, at least."
+
+
+
+
+CHILDREN.
+
+"A little child shall lead them."
+
+
+One cold market morning I looked into a milliner's shop, and there I saw
+a hale, hearty, well-browned young fellow from the country, with his
+long cart whip, and lion-shag coat, holding up some little matter, and
+turning it about on his great fist. And what do you suppose it was? _A
+baby's bonnet!_ A little, soft, blue satin hood, with a swan's down
+border, white as the new-fallen snow, with a frill of rich blonde around
+the edge.
+
+By his side stood a very pretty woman, holding, with no small pride, the
+baby--for evidently it was _the_ baby. Any one could read that fact in
+every glance, as they looked at each other, and then at the large,
+unconscious eyes, and fat, dimpled cheeks of the little one.
+
+It was evident that neither of them had ever seen a baby like that
+before.
+
+"But really, Mary," said the young man, "isn't three dollars very high?"
+
+Mary very prudently said nothing, but taking the little bonnet, tied it
+on the little head, and held up the baby. The man looked, and without
+another word down went the three dollars--all the avails of last week's
+butter; and as they walked out of the shop, it is hard to say which
+looked the most delighted with the bargain.
+
+"Ah," thought I, "a little child shall lead them."
+
+Another day, as I was passing a carriage factory along one of our
+principal back streets, I saw a young mechanic at work on a wheel. The
+rough body of a carriage stood beside him, and there, wrapped up snugly,
+all hooded and cloaked, sat a little dark-eyed girl, about a year old,
+playing with a great, shaggy dog. As I stopped, the man looked up from
+his work, and turned admiringly towards his little companion, as much as
+to say, "See what I have got here!"
+
+"Yes," thought I; "and if the little lady ever gets a glance from
+admiring swains as sincere as that, she will be lucky."
+
+Ah, these children, little witches, pretty even in all their faults and
+absurdities. See, for example, yonder little fellow in a naughty fit. He
+has shaken his long curls over his deep-blue eyes; the fair brow is bent
+in a frown, the rose leaf lip is pursed up in infinite defiance, and the
+white shoulder thrust angrily forward. Can any but a child look so
+pretty, even in its naughtiness?
+
+Then comes the instant change; flashing smiles and tears, as the good
+comes back all in a rush, and you are overwhelmed with protestations,
+promises, and kisses! They are irresistible, too, these little ones.
+They pull away the scholar's pen, tumble about his paper, make somersets
+over his books; and what can he do? They tear up newspapers, litter the
+carpets, break, pull, and upset, and then jabber unheard-of English in
+self-defence; and what can you do for yourself?
+
+"If I had a child," says the precise man, "you should see."
+
+He _does_ have a child, and his child tears up his papers, tumbles over
+his things, and pulls his nose, like all other children; and what has
+the precise man to say for himself? Nothing; he is like every body else;
+"a little child shall lead him."
+
+The hardened heart of the worldly man is unlocked by the guileless tones
+and simple caresses of his son; but he repays it in time, by imparting
+to his boy all the crooked tricks and callous maxims which have undone
+himself.
+
+Go to the jail, to the penitentiary, and find there the wretch most
+sullen, brutal, and hardened. Then look at your infant son. Such as he
+is to you, such to some mother was this man. That hard hand was soft and
+delicate; that rough voice was tender and lisping; fond eyes followed
+him as he played, and he was rocked and cradled as something holy. There
+was a time when his heart, soft and unworn, might have opened to
+questionings of God and Jesus, and been sealed with the seal of Heaven.
+But harsh hands seized it; fierce goblin lineaments were impressed upon
+it; and all is over with him forever!
+
+So of the tender, weeping child is made the callous, heartless man; of
+the all-believing child, the sneering sceptic; of the beautiful and
+modest, the shameless and abandoned; and this is what _the world_ does
+for the little one.
+
+There was a time when the _divine One_ stood on earth, and little
+children sought to draw near to him. But harsh human beings stood
+between him and them, forbidding their approach. Ah, has it not always
+been so? Do not even we, with our hard and unsubdued feelings, our
+worldly and unspiritual habits and maxims, stand like a dark screen
+between our little child and its Savior, and keep even from the choice
+bud of our hearts the sweet radiance which might unfold it for Paradise?
+"Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not," is still
+the voice of the Son of God; but the cold world still closes around and
+forbids. When, of old, disciples would question their Lord of the higher
+mysteries of his kingdom, he took a little child and set him in the
+midst, as a sign of him who should be greatest in heaven. That gentle
+teacher remains still to us. By every hearth and fireside Jesus still
+_sets the little child in the midst of us_.
+
+Wouldst thou know, O parent, what is that _faith_ which unlocks heaven?
+Go not to wrangling polemics, or creeds and forms of theology, but draw
+to thy bosom thy little one, and read in that clear, trusting eye the
+lesson of eternal life. Be only to thy God as thy child is to thee, and
+all is done. Blessed shalt thou be, indeed, "_when a little child shall
+lead thee_."
+
+
+
+
+HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS WITH MAMMON.
+
+
+It was four o'clock in the afternoon of a dull winter day that Mr. H.
+sat in his counting room. The sun had nearly gone down, and, in fact, it
+was already twilight beneath the shadows of the tall, dusky stores, and
+the close, crooked streets of that quarter of Boston. Hardly light
+enough struggled through the dusky panes of the counting house for him
+to read the entries in a much-thumbed memorandum book, which he held in
+his hand.
+
+A small, thin boy, with a pale face and anxious expression, significant
+of delicacy of constitution, and a too early acquaintance with want and
+sorrow, was standing by him, earnestly watching his motions.
+
+"Ah, yes, my boy," said Mr. H., as he at last shut up the memorandum
+book. "Yes, I've got the place now; I'm apt to be forgetful about these
+things; come, now, let's go. How is it? Haven't you brought the basket?"
+
+"No, sir," said the boy, timidly. "The grocer said he'd let mother have
+a quarter for it, and she thought she'd sell it."
+
+"That's bad," said Mr. H., as he went on, tying his throat with a long
+comforter of some yards in extent; and as he continued this operation he
+abstractedly repeated, "That's bad, that's bad," till the poor little
+boy looked quite dismayed, and began to think that somehow his mother
+had been dreadfully out of the way.
+
+"She didn't want to send for help so long as she had any thing she could
+sell," said the little boy in a deprecating tone.
+
+"O, yes, quite right," said Mr. H., taking from a pigeon hole in the
+desk a large pocket book, and beginning to turn it over; and, as before,
+abstractedly repeating, "Quite right, quite right?" till the little boy
+became reassured, and began to think, although he didn't know why, that
+his mother had done something quite meritorious.
+
+"Well," said Mr. H., after he had taken several bills from the pocket
+book and transferred them to a wallet which he put into his pocket, "now
+we're ready, my boy." But first he stopped to lock up his desk, and then
+he said, abstractedly to himself, "I wonder if I hadn't better take a
+few tracts."
+
+Now, it is to be confessed that this Mr. H., whom we have introduced to
+our reader, was, in his way, quite an oddity. He had a number of
+singular little _penchants_ and peculiarities quite his own, such as a
+passion for poking about among dark alleys, at all sorts of seasonable
+and unseasonable hours; fishing out troops of dirty, neglected children,
+and fussing about generally in the community till he could get them into
+schools or otherwise provided for. He always had in his pocket book a
+note of some dozen poor widows who wanted tea, sugar, candles, or other
+things such as poor widows always will be wanting. And then he had a
+most extraordinary talent for finding out all the sick strangers that
+lay in out-of-the-way upper rooms in hotels, who, every body knows, have
+no business to get sick in such places, unless they have money enough to
+pay their expenses, which they never do.
+
+Besides this, all Mr. H.'s kinsmen and cousins, to the third, fourth,
+and fortieth remove, were always writing him letters, which, among other
+pleasing items, generally contained the intelligence that a few hundred
+dollars were just then exceedingly necessary to save them from utter
+ruin, and they knew of nobody else to whom to look for it.
+
+And then Mr. H. was up to his throat in subscriptions to every
+charitable society that ever was made or imagined; had a hand in
+building all the churches within a hundred miles; occasionally gave four
+or five thousand dollars to a college; offered to be one of six to raise
+ten thousand dollars for some benevolent purpose, and when four of the
+six backed out, quietly paid the balance himself, and said no more about
+it. Another of his innocent fancies was to keep always about him any
+quantity of tracts and good books, little and big, for children and
+grown-up people, which he generally diffused in a kind of gentle shower
+about him wherever he moved.
+
+So great was his monomania for benevolence that it could not at all
+confine itself to the streets of Boston, the circle of his relatives, or
+even the United States of America. Mr. H. was fully posted up in the
+affairs of India, Burmah, China, and all those odd, out-of-the-way
+places, which no sensible man ever thinks of with any interest, unless
+he can make some money there; and money, it is to be confessed, Mr. H.
+didn't make there, though he spent an abundance. For getting up printing
+presses in Ceylon for Chinese type, for boxes of clothing and what not
+to be sent to the Sandwich Islands, for school books for the Greeks, and
+all other nonsense of that sort, Mr. H. was without a parallel. No
+wonder his rich brother merchants sometimes thought him something of a
+bore, since, his heart being full of all these matters, he was rather
+apt to talk about them, and sometimes to endeavor to draw them into
+fellowship, to an extent that was not to be thought of.
+
+So it came to pass often, that though Mr. H. was a thriving business
+man, with some ten thousand a year, he often wore a pretty threadbare
+coat, the seams whereof would be trimmed with lines of white; and he
+would sometimes need several pretty plain hints on the subject of a new
+hat before he would think he could afford one. Now, it is to be
+confessed the world is not always grateful to those who thus devote
+themselves to its interests; and Mr. H. had as much occasion to know
+this as any other man. People got so used to his giving, that his bounty
+became as common and as necessary as that of a higher Benefactor, "who
+maketh his sun to rise upon the evil and the good, and sendeth rain upon
+the just and the unjust;" and so it came to pass that people took them,
+as they do the sunshine and the rain, quite as matters of course, not
+thinking much about them when they came, but particularly apt to scold
+when they did not come.
+
+But Mr. H. never cared for that. He did not give for gratitude; he did
+not give for thanks, nor to have his name published in the papers as one
+of six who had given fifty thousand to do so and so; but he gave because
+it was _in_ him to give, and we all know that it is an old rule in
+medicine, as well as morals, that what is _in_ a man must be brought
+out. Then, again, he had heard it reported that there had been One of
+distinguished authority who had expressed the opinion that it was "_more
+blessed to give than to receive_," and he very much believed
+it--believed it because the One who said it must have known, since for
+man's sake _he_ once gave away ALL.
+
+And so, when some thriftless, distant relation, whose debts he had paid
+a dozen times over, gave him an overhauling on the subject of
+liberality, and seemed inclined to take him by the throat for further
+charity, he calmed himself down by a chapter or two from the New
+Testament and half a dozen hymns, and then sent him a good, brotherly
+letter of admonition and counsel, with a bank note to enforce it; and
+when some querulous old woman, who had had a tenement of him rent free
+for three or four years, sent him word that if he didn't send and mend
+the water pipes she would move right out, he sent and mended them.
+People said that he was foolish, and that it didn't do any good to do
+for ungrateful people; but Mr. H. knew that it did _him_ good. He loved
+to do it, and he thought also on some words that ran to this effect: "Do
+good and lend, _hoping for nothing again_." He literally hoped for
+nothing again in the way of reward, either in this world or in heaven,
+beyond the present pleasure of the deed; for he had abundant occasion to
+see how favors are forgotten in this world; and as for another, he had
+in his own soul a standard of benevolence so high, so pure, so ethereal,
+that but One of mortal birth ever reached it. He felt that, do what he
+might, he fell ever so far below the life of that _spotless One_--that
+his crown in heaven must come to him at last, not as a reward, but as a
+free, eternal gift.
+
+But all this while our friend and his little companion have been
+pattering along the wet streets, in the rain and sleet of a bitter cold
+evening, till they stopped before a grocery. Here a large cross-handled
+basket was first bought, and then filled with sundry packages of tea,
+sugar, candles, soap, starch, and various other matters; a barrel of
+flour was ordered to be sent after him on a dray. Mr. H. next stopped at
+a dry goods store and bought a pair of blankets, with which he loaded
+down the boy, who was happy enough to be so loaded; and then, turning
+gradually from the more frequented streets, the two were soon lost to
+view in one of the dimmest alleys of the city.
+
+The cheerful fire was blazing in his parlor, as, returned from his long,
+wet walk, he was sitting by it with his feet comfortably incased in
+slippers. The astral was burning brightly on the centre table, and a
+group of children were around it, studying their lessons.
+
+"Papa," said a little boy, "what does this verse mean? It's in my Sunday
+school lesson. 'Make to yourselves _friends of the mammon of
+unrighteousness, that when ye fail, they may receive you into
+everlasting habitations_.'"
+
+"You ought to have asked your teacher, my son."
+
+"But he said he didn't know exactly what it meant. He wanted me to look
+this week and see if I could find out."
+
+Mr. H.'s standing resource in all exegetical difficulties was Dr.
+Scott's Family Bible. Therefore he now got up, and putting on his
+spectacles, walked to the glass bookcase, and took down a volume of that
+worthy commentator, and opening it, read aloud the whole exposition of
+the passage, together with the practical reflections upon it; and by the
+time he had done, he found his young auditor fast asleep in his chair.
+
+"Mother," said he, "this child plays too hard. He can't keep his eyes
+open evenings. It's time he was in bed."
+
+"I wasn't asleep, pa," said Master Henry, starting up with that air of
+injured innocence with which gentlemen of his age generally treat an
+imputation of this kind.
+
+"Then can you tell me now what the passage means that I have been
+reading to you?"
+
+"There's so much of it," said Henry, hopelessly, "I wish you'd just tell
+me in short order, father."
+
+"O, read it for yourself," said Mr. H., as he pushed the book towards
+the boy, for it was to be confessed that he perceived at this moment
+that he had not himself received any particularly luminous impression,
+though of course he thought it was owing to his own want of
+comprehension.
+
+Mr. H. leaned back in his rocking chair, and on his own private account
+began to speculate a little as to what he really should think the verse
+might mean, supposing he were at all competent to decide upon it. "'Make
+to yourselves friends of the mammon of unrighteousness,'" says he:
+"that's money, very clearly. How am I to make friends with it or of it?
+Receive me into everlasting habitations: that's a singular kind of
+expression. I wonder what it means. Dr. Scott makes some very good
+remarks about it--but somehow I'm not exactly clear." It must be
+remarked that this was not an uncommon result of Mr. H.'s critical
+investigations in this quarter.
+
+Well, thoughts will wander; and as he lay with his head on the back of
+his rocking chair, and his eyes fixed on the flickering blaze of the
+coal, visions of his wet tramp in the city, and of the lonely garret he
+had been visiting, and of the poor woman with the pale, discouraged
+face, to whom he had carried warmth and comfort, all blended themselves
+together. He felt, too, a little indefinite creeping chill, and some
+uneasy sensations in his head like a commencing cold, for he was not a
+strong man, and it is probable his long, wet walk was likely to cause
+him some inconvenience in this way. At last he was fast asleep, nodding
+in his chair.
+
+He dreamed that he was very sick in bed, that the doctor came and went,
+and that he grew sicker and sicker. He was going to die. He saw his wife
+sitting weeping by his pillow--his children standing by with pale and
+frightened faces; all things in his room began to swim, and waver, and
+fade, and voices that called his name, and sobs and lamentations that
+rose around him, seemed far off and distant in his ear. "O eternity,
+eternity! I am going--I am going," he thought; and in that hour, strange
+to tell, not one of all his good deeds seemed good enough to lean
+on--all bore some taint or tinge, to his purified eye, of mortal
+selfishness, and seemed unholy before the ALL PURE. "I am going," he
+thought; "there is no time to stay, no time to alter, to balance
+accounts; and I know not what I am, but I know, O Jesus, what THOU art.
+I have trusted in thee, and shall never be confounded;" and with that
+last breath of prayer earth was past.
+
+A soft and solemn breathing, as of music, awakened him. As an infant
+child not yet fully awake hears the holy warblings of his mother's hymn,
+and smiles half conscious, so the heaven-born became aware of sweet
+voices and loving faces around him ere yet he fully woke to the new
+immortal LIFE.
+
+"Ah, he has come at last. How long we have waited for him! Here he is
+among us. Now forever welcome! welcome!" said the voices.
+
+Who shall speak the joy of that latest birth, the birth from death to
+life! the sweet, calm, inbreathing consciousness of purity and rest, the
+certainty that all sin, all weakness and error, are at last gone
+forever; the deep, immortal rapture of repose--felt to be but
+begun--never to end!
+
+So the eyes of the heaven-born opened on the new heaven and the new
+earth, and wondered at the crowd of loving faces that thronged about
+him. Fair, godlike forms of beauty, such as earth never knew, pressed
+round him with blessings, thanks, and welcome.
+
+The man spoke not, but he wondered in his heart who they were, and
+whence it came that they knew him; and as soon as the inquiry formed
+itself in his soul, it was read at once by his heavenly friends. "I,"
+said one bright spirit, "was a poor boy whom you found in the streets:
+you sought me out, you sent me to school, you watched over me, and led
+me to the house of God; and now here I am." "And we," said other voices,
+"are other neglected children whom you redeemed; we also thank you."
+"And I," said another, "was a lost, helpless girl: sold to sin and
+shame, nobody thought I could be saved; every body passed me by till you
+came. You built a home, a refuge for such poor wretches as I, and there
+I and many like me heard of Jesus; and here we are." "And I," said
+another, "was once a clerk in your store. I came to the city innocent,
+but I was betrayed by the tempter. I forgot my mother, and my mother's
+God. I went to the gaming table and the theatre, and at last I robbed
+your drawer. You might have justly cast me off; but you bore with me,
+you watched over me, you saved me. I am here through you this day." "And
+I," said another, "was a poor slave girl--doomed to be sold on the
+auction block to a life of infamy, and the ruin of soul and body. Had
+you not been willing to give so largely for my ransom, no one had
+thought to buy me. You stimulated others to give, and I was redeemed. I
+lived a Christian mother to bring my children up for Christ--they are
+all here with me to bless you this day, and their children on earth, and
+their children's children are growing up to bless you." "And I," said
+another, "was an unbeliever. In the pride of my intellect, I thought I
+could demonstrate the absurdity of Christianity. I thought I could
+answer the argument from miracles and prophecy; but your patient,
+self-denying life was an argument I never could answer. When I saw you
+spending all your time and all your money in efforts for your
+fellow-men, undiscouraged by ingratitude, and careless of praise, then I
+thought, 'There is something divine in that man's life,' and that
+thought brought me here."
+
+The man looked around on the gathering congregation, and he saw that
+there was no one whom he had drawn heavenward that had not also drawn
+thither myriads of others. In his lifetime he had been scattering seeds
+of good around from hour to hour, almost unconsciously; and now he saw
+every seed springing up into a widening forest of immortal beauty and
+glory. It seemed to him that there was to be no end of the numbers that
+flocked to claim him as their long-expected soul friend. His heart was
+full, and his face became as that of an angel as he looked up to One who
+seemed nearer than all, and said, "This is thy love for me, unworthy, O
+Jesus. Of thee, and to thee, and through thee are all things. Amen."
+
+Amen! as with chorus of many waters and mighty thunderings the sound
+swept onward, and died far off in chiming echoes among the distant
+stars, and the man awoke.
+
+
+
+
+A SCENE IN JERUSALEM.
+
+
+It is now nearly noon, the busiest and most bustling hour of the day;
+yet the streets of the Holy City seem deserted and silent as the grave.
+The artisan has left his bench, the merchant his merchandise; the
+throngs of returned wanderers which this great national festival has
+brought up from every land of the earth, and which have been for the
+last week carrying life and motion through every street, seem suddenly
+to have disappeared. Here and there solitary footfalls, like the last
+pattering rain drops after a shower, awaken the echoes of the streets;
+and here and there some lonely woman looks from the housetop with
+anxious and agitated face, as if she would discern something in the far
+distance.
+
+Alone, or almost alone, the few remaining priests move like
+white-winged, solitary birds over the gorgeous pavements of the temple,
+and as they mechanically conduct the ministrations of the day, cast
+significant glances on each other, and pause here and there to converse
+in anxious whispers.
+
+Ah there is one voice which they have often heard beneath those
+arches--a voice which ever bore in it a mysterious and thrilling
+charm--which they know will be hushed to-day. Chief priest, scribe, and
+doctor have all gone out in the death procession after him; and these
+few remaining ones, far from the excitement of the crowd, and busied in
+calm and sacred duties, find voices of anxious questioning rising from
+the depths of their own souls, "What if this indeed were the Christ?"
+
+But pass we on out of the city, and what a surging tide of life and
+motion meets the eye, as if all nations under heaven had dashed their
+waves of population on this Judean shore! A noisy, wrathful, tempestuous
+mob, billow on billow, waver and rally round some central object, which
+it conceals from view. Parthians, Medes, Elamites, dwellers in
+Mesopotamia and Egypt, strangers of Rome, Cretes and Arabians, Jew and
+Proselyte, convoked from the ends of the earth, throng in agitated
+concourse one on another; one theme in every face, on every tongue, one
+name in every variety of accent and dialect passing from lip to lip:
+"Jesus of Nazareth!"
+
+Look on that man--the centre and cause of all this outburst! He stands
+there alone. The cross is ready. It lies beneath his feet. The rough
+hand of a brutal soldier has seized his robe to tear it from him.
+Another with stalwart arm is boring the holes, gazing upward the while
+with a face of stupid unconcern. There on the ground lie the hammer and
+the nails: the hour, the moment of doom is come! Look on this man, as
+upward, with deep, sorrowing eyes, he gazes towards heaven. Hears he the
+roar of the mob? Feels he the rough hand on his garment? Nay, he sees
+not, feels not: from all the rage and tumult of the hour he is rapt
+away. A sorrow deeper, more absorbing, more unearthly seems to possess
+him, as upward with long gaze he looks to that heaven never before
+closed to his prayer, to that God never before to him invisible. That
+mournful, heaven-searching glance, in its lonely anguish, says but one
+thing: "Lo, I come to do thy will, O God."
+
+Through a life of sorrow the realized love of his Father has shone like
+a precious and beautiful talisman in his bosom; but now, when desolation
+and anguish have come upon him as a whirlwind, this last star has gone
+out in the darkness, and Jesus, deserted by man and God, stands there
+_alone_.
+
+Alone? No; for undaunted by the cruel mob, fearless in the strength of
+mortal anguish, helpless, yet undismayed, stands the one blessed among
+women, the royal daughter of a noble line, the priestess to whose care
+was intrusted this spotless sacrifice. She and her son, last of a race
+of kings, stand there despised, rejected, and disavowed by their nation,
+to accomplish dread words of prophecy, which have swept down for far
+ages to this hour.
+
+Strange it is, in this dark scene, to see the likeness between mother
+and son, deepening in every line of those faces, as they stand thus
+thrown out by the dark background of rage and hate, which like a storm
+cloud lowers around. The same rapt, absorbed, calm intensity of anguish
+in both mother and son, save only that while he gazes upward towards
+God, she, with like fervor, gazes on him. What to her is the deriding
+mob, the coarse taunt, the brutal abuse? Of it all she hears, she feels
+nothing. She sinks not, faints not, weeps not; her whole being
+concentrates in the will to suffer by and with him to the last. Other
+hearts there are that beat for him; others that press into the doomed
+circle, and own him amid the scorn of thousands. There may you see the
+clasped hands and upraised eyes of a Magdalen, the pale and steady
+resolve of John, the weeping company of women who bewailed and lamented
+him; but none dare press so near, or seem so identical with him in his
+sufferings, as this mother.
+
+And as we gaze on these two in human form, surrounded by other human
+forms, how strange the contrast! How is it possible that human features
+and human lineaments essentially alike, can be wrought into such
+heaven-wide contrast? MAN is he who stands there, lofty and spotless, in
+bleeding patience! _Men_ also are those brutal soldiers, alike stupidly
+ready, at the word of command, to drive the nail through quivering flesh
+or insensate wood. _Men_ are those scowling priests and infuriate
+Pharisees. _Men_, also, the shifting figures of the careless rabble, who
+shout and curse without knowing why. No visible glory shines round that
+head; yet how, spite of every defilement cast upon him by the vulgar
+rabble, seems that form to be glorified! What light is that in those
+eyes! What mournful beauty in that face! What solemn, mysterious
+sacredness investing the whole form, constraining from us the
+exclamation, "Surely this is the Son of God." _Man's_ voice is breathing
+vulgar taunt and jeer: "He saved others; himself he cannot save." "He
+trusted in God; let him deliver him if he will have him." And _man's_,
+also, clear, sweet, unearthly, pierces that stormy mob, saying, "Father,
+forgive them; they know not what they do."
+
+But we draw the veil in reverence. It is not ours to picture what the
+sun refused to shine upon, and earth shook to behold.
+
+Little thought those weeping women, that stricken disciple, that
+heart-broken mother, how on some future day that cross--emblem to them
+of deepest infamy--should blaze in the eye of all nations, symbol of
+triumph and hope, glittering on gorgeous fanes, embroidered on regal
+banners, associated with all that is revered and powerful on earth. The
+Roman ensign that waved on that mournful day, symbol of highest earthly
+power, is a thing mouldered and forgotten; and over all the high places
+of old Rome, herself stands that mystical cross, no longer speaking of
+earthly anguish and despair, but of heavenly glory, honor, and
+immortality.
+
+Theologians have endlessly disputed and philosophized on this great fact
+of _atonement_. The Bible tells only that this tragic event was the
+essential point without which our salvation could never have been
+secured. But where lay the necessity they do not say. What was that
+dread strait that either the divine One must thus suffer, or man be
+lost, who knoweth?
+
+To this question answer a thousand voices, with each a different
+solution, urged with equal confidence--each solution to its framer as
+certain and sacred as the dread fact it explains--yet every one,
+perhaps, unsatisfactory to the deep-questioning soul. The Bible, as it
+always does, gives on this point not definitions or distinct outlines,
+but images--images which lose all their glory and beauty if seized by
+the harsh hands of metaphysical analysis, but inexpressibly affecting to
+the unlettered human heart, which softens in gazing on their mournful
+and mysterious beauty. Christ is called our sacrifice, our passover, our
+atoning high priest; and he himself, while holding in his hands the
+emblem cup, says, "It is my blood, shed for _many_, for the _remission
+of sins_." Let us reason on it as we will, this story of the cross,
+presented without explanation in the simple metaphor of the Bible, has
+produced an effect on human nature wholly unaccountable. In every age
+and clime, with every variety of habit, thought, and feeling, from the
+cannibals of New Zealand and Madagascar to the most enlightened and
+scientific minds in Christendom, one feeling, essentially homogeneous in
+its character and results, has arisen in view of this cross. There is
+something in it that strikes one of the great nerves of simple,
+unsophisticated humanity, and meets its wants as nothing else will. Ages
+ago, Paul declared to philosophizing Greek and scornful Roman that he
+was not ashamed of this gospel, and alleged for his reason this very
+adaptedness to humanity. _A priori_, many would have said that Paul
+should have told of Christ living, Christ preaching, Christ working
+miracles, not omitting also the pathetic history of how he sealed all
+with his blood; but Paul declared that he determined to know nothing
+else but Christ _crucified_. He said it was a stumbling block to the
+Jew, an absurdity to the Greek; yet he was none the less positive in his
+course. True, there was many then, as now, who looked on with the most
+philosophic and cultivated indifference. The courtly Festus, as he
+settled his purple tunic, declared he could make nothing of the matter,
+only a dispute about one Jesus, who was dead, and whom Paul affirmed to
+be alive; and perchance some Athenian, as he reclined on his ivory couch
+at dinner, after the sermon on Mars Hill, may have disposed of the
+matter very summarily, and passed on to criticisms on Samian wine and
+marble vases. Yet in spite of their disbelief, this story of Christ has
+outlived them, their age and nation, and is to this hour as fresh in
+human hearts as if it were just published. This "one Jesus which was
+dead, and whom Paul affirmed to be alive," is nominally, at least, the
+object of religious homage in all the more cultivated portions of the
+globe; and to hearts scattered through all regions of the earth this
+same Jesus is now a sacred and living name, dearer than all household
+sounds, all ties of blood, all sweetest and nearest affections of
+humanity. "I am ready not only to be bound, but also to die for the name
+of the Lord Jesus," are words that have found an echo in the bosoms of
+thousands in every age since then; that would, if need were, find no
+less echo in thousands now. Considering Christ as a man, and his death
+as a mere pathetic story,--considering him as one of the great martyrs
+for truth, who sealed it with his blood,--this result is wholly
+unaccountable. Other martyrs have died, bravely and tenderly, in their
+last hours "bearing witness of the godlike" that is in man; but who so
+remembers them? Who so loves them? To whom is any one of them a living
+presence, a life, an all? Yet so thousands look on Jesus at this hour.
+
+Nay, it is because this story strikes home to every human bosom as an
+individual concern. A thrilling voice speaks from this scene of anguish
+to every human bosom: This is _thy_ Savior. _Thy_ sin hath done this. It
+is the appropriative words, _thine_ and _mine_, which make this history
+different from any other history. This was for _me_, is the thought
+which has pierced the apathy of the Greenlander, and kindled the stolid
+clay of the Hottentot; and no human bosom has ever been found so low, so
+lost, so guilty, so despairing, that this truth, once received, has not
+had power to redeem, regenerate, and disenthrall. Christ so presented
+becomes to every human being a friend nearer than the mother who bore
+him; and the more degraded, the more hopeless and polluted, is the
+nature, the stronger comes on the living reaction, if this belief is
+really and vividly enkindled with it. But take away this appropriative,
+individual element, and this legend of Jesus's death has no more power
+than any other. He is to us no more than Washington or Socrates, or
+Howard. And where is there not a touchstone to try every theory of
+atonement? Whatever makes a man feel that he is only a spectator, an
+uninterested judge in this matter, is surely astray from the idea of the
+Bible. Whatever makes him feel that his sins have done this deed, that
+he is bound, soul and body, to this Deliverer, though it may be in many
+points philosophically erroneous, cannot go far astray.
+
+If we could tell the number of the stars, and call them forth by name,
+then, perhaps, might we solve all the mystic symbols by which the Bible
+has shadowed forth the far-lying necessities and reachings-forth of this
+event "among principalities and powers," and in "ages to come." But he
+who knows nothing of all this, who shall so present the atonement as to
+bind and affiance human souls indissolubly to their Redeemer, does all
+that could be done by the highest and most perfect knowledge.
+
+The great object is accomplished, when the soul, rapt, inspired, feels
+the deep resolve,--
+
+                "Remember Thee!
+    Yea, from the table of my memory
+    I'll wipe away all trivial, fond records,
+    All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past
+    That youth and observation copied there,
+    And thy commandment all alone shall live
+    Within the book and volume of my brain,
+    Unmixed with baser matter."
+
+
+
+
+THE OLD MEETING HOUSE.
+
+SKETCH FROM THE NOTE BOOK OF AN OLD GENTLEMAN.
+
+
+Never shall I forget the dignity and sense of importance which swelled
+my mind when I was first pronounced old enough to go to meeting. That
+eventful Sunday I was up long before day, and even took my Sabbath suit
+to the window to ascertain by the first light that it actually was
+there, just as it looked the night before. With what complacency did I
+view myself completely dressed! How did I count over the rows of yellow
+gilt buttons on my coat! how my good mother, grandmother, and aunts
+fussed, and twitched, and pulled, to make every thing set up and set
+down, just in the proper place! how my clean, starched white collar was
+turned over and smoothed again and again, and my golden curls twisted
+and arranged to make the most of me! and, last of all, how I was
+cautioned not to be thinking of my clothes! In truth, I was in those
+days a very handsome youngster, and it really is no more than justice to
+let the fact be known, as there is nothing in my present appearance from
+which it could ever be inferred. Every body in the house successively
+asked me if I should be a good boy, and sit still, and not talk, nor
+laugh; and my mother informed me, _in terrorem_, that there was a
+tithing man, who carried off naughty children, and shut them up in a
+dark place behind the pulpit; and that this tithing man, Mr. Zephaniah
+Scranton, sat just where he could see me. This fact impressed my mind
+with more solemnity than all the exhortations which had preceded it--a
+proof of the efficacy of facts above reason. Under shadow and power of
+this weighty truth, I demurely took hold of my mother's forefinger to
+walk to meeting.
+
+The traveller in New England, as he stands on some eminence, and looks
+down on its rich landscape of golden grain and waving cornfield, sees no
+feature more beautiful than its simple churches, whose white taper
+fingers point upward, amid the greenness and bloom of the distant
+prospects, as if to remind one of the overshadowing providence whence
+all this luxuriant beauty flows; and year by year, as new ones are added
+to the number, or succeed in the place of old ones, there is discernible
+an evident improvement in their taste and architecture. Those modest
+Doric little buildings, with their white pillars, green blinds, and neat
+enclosures, are very different affairs from those great, uncouth
+mountains of windows and doors that stood in the same place years
+before. To my childish eye, however, our old meeting house was an
+awe-inspiring thing. To me it seemed fashioned very nearly on the model
+of Noah's ark and Solomon's temple, as set forth in the pictures in my
+Scripture Catechism--pictures which I did not doubt were authentic
+copies; and what more respectable and venerable architectural precedent
+could any one desire? Its double rows of windows, of which I knew the
+number by heart, its doors with great wooden quirls over them, its
+belfry projecting out at the east end, its steeple and bell, all
+inspired as much sense of the sublime in me as Strasbourg Cathedral
+itself; and the inside was not a whit less imposing.
+
+How magnificent, to my eye, seemed the turnip-like canopy that hung over
+the minister's head, hooked by a long iron rod to the wall above! and
+how apprehensively did I consider the question, what would become of him
+if it should fall! How did I wonder at the panels on either side of the
+pulpit, in each of which was carved and painted a flaming red tulip,
+bolt upright, with its leaves projecting out at right angles! and then
+at the grape vine, bass relieved on the front, with its exactly
+triangular bunches of grapes, alternating at exact intervals with
+exactly triangular leaves. To me it was an indisputable representation
+of how grape vines ought to look, if they would only be straight and
+regular, instead of curling and scrambling, and twisting themselves into
+all sorts of slovenly shapes. The area of the house was divided into
+large square pews, boxed up with stout boards, and surmounted with a
+kind of baluster work, which I supposed to be provided for the special
+accommodation of us youngsters, being the "loopholes of retreat" through
+which we gazed on the "remarkabilia" of the scene. It was especially
+interesting to me to notice the coming in to meeting of the
+congregation. The doors were so contrived that on entering you stepped
+_down_ instead of _up_--a construction that has more than once led to
+unlucky results in the case of strangers. I remember once when an
+unlucky Frenchman, entirely unsuspicious of the danger that awaited him,
+made entrance by pitching devoutly upon his nose in the middle of the
+broad aisle; that it took three bunches of my grandmother's fennel to
+bring my risibles into any thing like composure. Such exhibitions,
+fortunately for me, were very rare; but still I found great amusement in
+watching the distinctive and marked outlines of the various people that
+filled up the seats around me. A Yankee village presents a picture of
+the curiosities of every generation: there, from year to year, they live
+on, preserved by hard labor and regular habits, exhibiting every
+peculiarity of manner and appearance, as distinctly marked as when they
+first came from the mint of nature. And as every body goes punctually to
+meeting, the meeting house becomes a sort of museum of antiquities--a
+general muster ground for past and present.
+
+I remember still with what wondering admiration I used to look around on
+the people that surrounded our pew. On one side there was an old Captain
+McLean, and Major McDill, a couple whom the mischievous wits of the
+village designated as Captain McLean and Captain McFat; and, in truth,
+they were a perfect antithesis, a living exemplification of flesh and
+spirit. Captain McLean was a mournful, lengthy, considerate-looking old
+gentleman, with a long face, digressing into a long, thin, horny nose,
+which, when he applied his pocket handkerchief, gave forth a melancholy,
+minor-keyed sound, such as a ghost might make, using a pocket
+handkerchief in the long gallery of some old castle.
+
+Close at his side was the doughty, puffing Captain McDill, whose
+full-orbed, jolly visage was illuminated by a most valiant red nose,
+shaped something like an overgrown doughnut, and looking as if it had
+been thrown _at_ his face, and happened to hit in the middle. Then there
+was old Israel Peters, with a wooden leg, which tramped into meeting,
+with undeviating regularity, ten minutes before meeting time; and there
+was Jedediah Stebbins, a thin, wistful, moonshiny-looking old gentleman,
+whose mouth appeared as if it had been gathered up with a needle and
+thread, and whose eyes seemed as if they had been bound with red tape;
+and there was old Benaiah Stephens, who used regularly to get up and
+stand when the minister was about half through his sermon, exhibiting
+his tall figure, long, single-breasted coat, with buttons nearly as
+large as a tea plate; his large, black, horn spectacles stretched down
+on the extreme end of a very long nose, and vigorously chewing,
+meanwhile, on the bunch of caraway which he always carried in one hand.
+Then there was Aunt Sally Stimpson, and old Widow Smith, and a whole
+bevy of little, dried old ladies, with small, straight, black bonnets,
+tight sleeves to the elbow, long silk gloves, and great fans, big enough
+for a windmill; and of a hot day it was a great amusement to me to watch
+the bobbing of the little black bonnets, which showed that sleep had got
+the better of their owners' attention, and the sputter and rustling of
+the fans, when a more profound nod than common would suddenly waken
+them, and set them to fanning and listening with redoubled devotion.
+There was Deacon Dundas, a great wagon load of an old gentleman, whose
+ample pockets looked as if they might have held half the congregation,
+who used to establish himself just on one side of me, and seemed to feel
+such entire confidence in the soundness and capacity of his pastor that
+he could sleep very comfortably from one end of the sermon to the other.
+Occasionally, to be sure, one of your officious blue flies, who, as
+every body knows, are amazingly particular about such matters, would
+buzz into his mouth, or flirt into his ears a passing admonition as to
+the impropriety of sleeping in meeting, when the good old gentleman
+would start, open his eyes very wide, and look about with a resolute
+air, as much as to say, "I wasn't asleep, I can tell you;" and then
+setting himself in an edifying posture of attention, you might perceive
+his head gradually settling back, his mouth slowly opening wider and
+wider, till the good man would go off again soundly asleep, as if
+nothing had happened.
+
+It was a good orthodox custom of old times to take every part of the
+domestic establishment to meeting, even down to the faithful dog, who,
+as he had supervised the labors of the week, also came with due
+particularity to supervise the worship of Sunday. I think I can see now
+the fitting out on a Sunday morning--the one wagon, or two, as the case
+might be, tackled up with an "old gray" or an "old bay," with a buffalo
+skin over the seat by way of cushion, and all the family, in their
+Sunday best, packed in for meeting; while Master Bose, Watch, or Towser
+stood prepared to be an outguard and went meekly trotting up hill and
+down dale in the rear. Arrived at meeting, the canine part of the
+establishment generally conducted themselves with great decorum, lying
+down and going to sleep as decently as any body present, except when
+some of the business-loving bluebottles aforesaid would make a sortie
+upon them, when you might hear the snap of their jaws as they vainly
+sought to lay hold of the offender. Now and then, between some of the
+sixthlies, seventhlies, and eighthlies, you might hear some old
+patriarch giving himself a rousing shake, and pitpatting soberly up the
+aisles, as if to see that every thing was going on properly, after which
+he would lie down and compose himself to sleep again; and certainly this
+was as improving a way of spending Sunday as a good Christian dog could
+desire.
+
+But the glory of our meeting house was its singers' seat--that empyrean
+of those who rejoiced in the divine, mysterious art of fa-sol-la-ing,
+who, by a distinguishing grace and privilege, could "raise and fall" the
+cabalistical eight notes, and move serene through the enchanted region
+of flats, sharps, thirds, fifths, and octaves.
+
+There they sat in the gallery that lined three sides of the house,
+treble, counter, tenor, and bass, each with its appropriate leaders and
+supporters; there were generally seated the bloom of our young people;
+sparkling, modest, and blushing girls on one side, with their ribbons
+and finery, making the place where they sat as blooming and lively as a
+flower garden, and fiery, forward, confident young men on the other. In
+spite of its being a meeting house, we could not swear that glances were
+never given and returned, and that there was not often as much of an
+approach to flirtation as the distance and the sobriety of the place
+would admit. Certain it was, that there was no place where our village
+coquettes attracted half so many eyes or led astray half so many hearts.
+
+But I have been talking of singers all this time, and neglected to
+mention the Magnus Apollo of the whole concern, the redoubtable
+chorister, who occupied the seat of honor in the midst of the middle
+gallery, and exactly opposite to the minister. Certain it is that the
+good man, if he were alive, would never believe it; for no person ever
+more magnified his office, or had a more thorough belief in his own
+greatness and supremacy, than Zedekiah Morse. Methinks I can see him now
+as he appeared to my eyes on that first Sunday, when he shot up from
+behind the gallery, as if he had been sent up by a spring. He was a
+little man, whose fiery-red hair, brushed straight up on the top of his
+head, had an appearance as vigorous and lively as real flame; and this,
+added to the ardor and determination of all his motions, had obtained
+for him the surname of the "Burning Bush." He seemed possessed with the
+very soul of song; and from the moment he began to sing, looked alive
+all over, till it seemed to me that his whole body would follow his hair
+upwards, fairly rapt away by the power of harmony. With what an air did
+he sound the important _fa-sol-la_ in the ears of the waiting gallery,
+who stood with open mouths ready to seize their pitch, preparatory to
+their general _set to_! How did his ascending and descending arm
+astonish the zephyrs when once he laid himself out to the important work
+of beating time! How did his little head whisk from side to side, as now
+he beat and roared towards the ladies on his right, and now towards the
+gentlemen on his left! It used to seem to my astonished vision as if his
+form grew taller, his arm longer, his hair redder, and his little green
+eyes brighter, with every stave; and particularly when he perceived any
+falling off of time or discrepancy in pitch; with what redoubled vigor
+would he thump the gallery and roar at the delinquent quarter, till
+every mother's son and daughter of them skipped and scrambled into the
+right place again!
+
+O, it was a fine thing to see the vigor and discipline with which he
+managed the business; so that if, on a hot, drowsy Sunday, any part of
+the choir hung back or sung sleepily on the first part of a verse, they
+were obliged to bestir themselves in good earnest, and sing three times
+as fast, in order to get through with the others. 'Kiah Morse was no
+advocate for your dozy, drawling singing, that one may do at leisure,
+between sleeping and waking, I assure you; indeed, he got entirely out
+of the graces of Deacon Dundas and one or two other portly, leisurely
+old gentlemen below, who had been used to throw back their heads, shut
+up their eyes, and take the comfort of the psalm, by prolonging
+indefinitely all the notes. The first Sunday after 'Kiah took the music
+in hand, the old deacon really rubbed his eyes and looked about him; for
+the psalm was sung off before he was ready to get his mouth opened, and
+he really looked upon it as a most irreverent piece of business.
+
+But the glory of 'Kiah's art consisted in the execution of those good
+old billowy compositions called fuguing tunes, where the four parts that
+compose the choir take up the song, and go racing around one after
+another, each singing a different set of words, till, at length, by some
+inexplicable magic, they all come together again, and sail smoothly out
+into a rolling sea of song. I remember the wonder with which I used to
+look from side to side when treble, tenor, counter, and bass were thus
+roaring and foaming,--and it verily seemed to me as if the psalm was
+going to pieces among the breakers,--and the delighted astonishment with
+which I found that each particular verse did emerge whole and uninjured
+from the storm.
+
+But alas for the wonders of that old meeting house, how they are passed
+away! Even the venerable building itself has been pulled down, and its
+fragments scattered; yet still I retain enough of my childish feelings
+to wonder whether any little boy was gratified by the possession of
+those painted tulips and grape vines, which my childish eye used to
+covet, and about the obtaining of which, in case the house should ever
+be pulled down, I devised so many schemes during the long sermons and
+services of summer days. I have visited the spot where it stood, but the
+modern, fair-looking building that stands in its room bears no trace of
+it; and of the various familiar faces that used to be seen inside, not
+one remains. Verily, I must be growing old; and as old people are apt to
+spin long stories, I check myself, and lay down my pen.
+
+
+
+
+THE NEW-YEAR'S GIFT.
+
+
+The sparkling ice and snow covered hill and valley--tree and bush were
+glittering with diamonds--the broad, coarse rails of the fence shone
+like bars of solid silver, while little fringes of icicles glittered
+between each bar.
+
+In the yard of yonder dwelling the scarlet berries of the mountain ash
+shine through a transparent casing of crystal, and the sable spruces and
+white pines, powdered and glittering with the frost, have assumed an icy
+brilliancy. The eaves of the house, the door knocker, the pickets of the
+fence, the honeysuckles and seringas, once the boast of summer, are all
+alike polished, varnished, and resplendent with their winter trappings,
+now gleaming in the last rays of the early sunset.
+
+Within that large, old-fashioned dwelling might you see an ample parlor,
+all whose adjustments and arrangements speak of security, warmth, and
+home enjoyment; of money spent not for show, but for comfort. Thick
+crimson curtains descend in heavy folds over the embrasures of the
+windows, and the ample hearth and wide fireplace speak of the customs of
+the good old times, ere that gloomy, unpoetic, unsocial gnome--the
+air-tight--had monopolized the place of the blazing fireside.
+
+No dark air-tight, however, filled our ancient chimney; but there was a
+genuine old-fashioned fire of the most approved architecture, with a
+gallant backlog and forestick, supporting and keeping in order a
+crackling pile of dry wood, that was whirring and blazing warm welcome
+for all whom it might concern, occasionally bursting forth into most
+portentous and earnest snaps, which rung through the room with a
+genuine, hospitable emphasis, as if the fire was enjoying himself, and
+having a good time, and wanted all hands to draw up and make themselves
+at home with him.
+
+So looked that parlor to me, when, tired with a long day's ride, I found
+my way into it, just at evening, and was greeted with a hearty welcome
+from my old friend, Colonel Winthrop.
+
+In addition to all that I have already described, let the reader add, if
+he pleases, the vision of a wide and ample tea table, covered with a
+snowy cloth, on which the servants are depositing the evening meal.
+
+I had not seen Winthrop for years; but we were old college friends, and
+I had gladly accepted an invitation to renew our ancient intimacy by
+passing the New Year's season in his family. I found him still the same
+hale, kindly, cheery fellow as in days of old, though time had taken the
+same liberty with his handsome head that Jack Frost had with the cedars
+and spruces out of doors, in giving to it a graceful and becoming
+sprinkle of silver.
+
+"Here you are, my dear fellow," said he, shaking me by both hands--"just
+in season for the ham and chickens--coffee all smoking. My dear," he
+added to a motherly-looking woman who now entered, "here's John! I beg
+pardon, Mr. Stuart." As he spoke, two bold, handsome boys broke into the
+room, accompanied by a huge Newfoundland dog--all as full of hilarity
+and abundant animation as an afternoon of glorious skating could have
+generated.
+
+"Ha, Tom and Ned!--you rogues--you don't want any supper to-night, I
+suppose," said the father, gayly; "come up here and be introduced to my
+old friend. Here they come!" said he, as one by one the opening doors
+admitted the various children to the summons of the evening meal.
+"Here," presenting a tall young girl, "is our eldest, beginning to think
+herself a young lady, on the strength of being fifteen years old, and
+wearing her hair tucked up. And here is Eliza," said he, giving a pull
+to a blooming, roguish girl of ten, with large, saucy black eyes. "And
+here is Willie!" a bashful, blushing little fellow in a checked apron.
+"And now, where's the little queen?--where's her majesty?--where's
+Ally?"
+
+A golden head of curls was, at this instant, thrust timidly in at the
+door, and I caught a passing glimpse of a pair of great blue eyes; but
+the head, curls, eyes, and all, instantly vanished, though a little fat
+dimpled hand was seen holding on to the door, and swinging it back and
+forward. "Ally, dear, come in!" said the mother, in a tone of
+encouragement. "Come in, Ally! come in," was repeated in various tones,
+by each child; but brother Tom pushed open the door, and taking the
+little recusant in his arms, brought her fairly in, and deposited her on
+her father's knee. She took firm hold of his coat, and then turned and
+gazed shyly upon me--her large splendid blue eyes gleaming through her
+golden curls. It was evident that this was the pet lamb of the fold, and
+she was just at that age when babyhood is verging into childhood--an age
+often indefinitely prolonged in a large family, where the universal
+admiration that waits on every look, and motion, and word of _the baby_,
+and the multiplied monopolies and privileges of the baby estate, seem,
+by universal consent, to extend as long and as far as possible. And why
+not thus delay the little bark of the child among the flowery shores of
+its first Eden?--defer them as we may, the hard, the real, the cold
+commonplace of life comes on all too soon!
+
+"This is our New Year's gift," said Winthrop, fondly caressing the curly
+head. "Ally, tell the gentleman how old you are."
+
+"I s'all be four next New 'Ear's," said the little one, while all the
+circle looked applause.
+
+"Ally, tell the gentleman what you are," said brother Ned.
+
+Ally looked coquettishly at me, as if she did not know whether she
+should favor me to that extent, and the young princess was further
+solicited.
+
+"Tell him what Ally is," said the oldest sister, with a patronizing air.
+
+"Papa's New 'Ear's pesent," said my little lady, at last.
+
+"And mamma's, too!" said the mother gently, amid the applauses of the
+admiring circle.
+
+Winthrop looked apologetically at me, and said, "We all spoil
+her--that's a fact--every one of us down to Rover, there, who lets her
+tie tippets round his neck, and put bonnets on his head, and hug and
+kiss him, to a degree that would disconcert any other dog in the world."
+
+If ever beauty and poetic grace was an apology for spoiling, it was in
+this case. Every turn of the bright head, every change of the dimpled
+face and round and chubby limbs, was a picture; and within the little
+form was shrined a heart full of love, and running over with compassion
+and good will for every breathing thing; with feelings so sensitive,
+that it was papa's delight to make her laugh and cry with stories, and
+to watch in the blue, earnest mirror of her eye every change and turn of
+his narration, as he took her through long fairy tales, and
+old-fashioned giant and ghost legends, purely for his own amusement, and
+much reprimanded all the way by mamma, for filling the child's head with
+nonsense.
+
+It was now, however, time to turn from the beauty to the substantial
+realities of the supper table. I observed that Ally's high chair was
+stationed close by her father's side; and ever and anon, while gayly
+talking, he would slip into her rosy little mouth some choice bit from
+his plate, these notices and attentions seeming so instinctive and
+habitual, that they did not for a moment interrupt the thread of the
+conversation. Once or twice I caught a glimpse of Rover's great rough
+nose, turned anxiously up to the little chair; whereat the small white
+hand forthwith slid something into his mouth, though by what dexterity
+it ever came out from the great black jaws undevoured was a mystery.
+When the supply of meat on the small lady's plate was exhausted, I
+observed the little hand slyly slipping into her father's provision
+grounds, and with infinite address abstracting small morsels, whereat
+there was much mysterious winking between the father and the other
+children, and considerable tittering among the younger ones, though all
+in marvellous silence, as it was deemed best policy not to appear to
+notice Ally's tricks, lest they should become too obstreperous.
+
+In the course of the next day I found myself, to all intents and
+purposes, as much part and parcel of the family as if I had been born
+and bred among them. I found that I had come in a critical time, when
+secrets were plenty as blackberries. It being New Year's week, all the
+little hoarded resources of the children, both of money and of
+ingenuity, were in brisk requisition, getting up New Year's presents for
+each other, and for father and mother. The boys had their little tin
+savings banks, where all the stray pennies of the year had been
+carefully hoarded--all that had been got by blacking papa's boots, or by
+piling wood, or weeding in the garden--mingled with some fortunate
+additions which had come as windfalls from some liberal guest or friend.
+All now were poured out daily, on tables, on chairs, on stools, and
+counted over with wonderful earnestness.
+
+My friend, though in easy circumstances, was somewhat old-fashioned in
+his notions. He never allowed his children spending money, except such
+as they fairly earned by some exertions of their own. "Let them do
+something," he would say, "to make it fairly theirs, and their
+generosity will then have some significance--it is very easy for
+children to be generous on their parents' money." Great were the
+comparing of resources and estimates of property at this time. Tom and
+Ned, who were big enough to saw wood, and hoe in the garden, had
+accumulated the vast sum of three dollars each, and walked about with
+their hands in their pockets, and talked largely of purchases, like
+gentlemen of substance. They thought of getting mamma a new muff, and
+papa a writing desk, besides trinkets innumerable for sisters, and a big
+doll for Ally; but after they had made one expedition to a neighboring
+town to inquire prices, I observed that their expectations were greatly
+moderated. As to little Willie, him of the checked apron, his whole
+earthly substance amounted to thirty-seven cents; yet there was not a
+member of the whole family circle, including the servants, that he could
+find it in his heart to leave out of his remembrance. I ingratiated
+myself with him immediately; and twenty times a day did I count over his
+money to him, and did sums innumerable to show how much would be left if
+he got this, that, or the other article, which he was longing to buy for
+father or mother. I proved to him most invaluable, by helping him to
+think of certain small sixpenny and fourpenny articles that would be
+pretty to give to sisters, making out with marbles for Tom and Ned, and
+a very valiant-looking sugar horse for Ally. Miss Emma had the usual
+resource of young ladies, flosses, worsted, and knitting, and crochet
+needles, and busy fingers, and she was giving private lessons daily to
+Eliza, to enable her to get up some napkin rings, and book marks for the
+all-important occasion. A gentle air of bustle and mystery pervaded the
+whole circle. I was intrusted with so many secrets that I could scarcely
+make an observation, or take a turn about the room, without being
+implored to "remember"--"not to tell"--not to let papa know this, or
+mamma that. I was not to let papa know how the boys were going to buy
+him a new inkstand, with a pen rack upon it, which was entirely to
+outshine all previous inkstands; nor tell mamma about the crochet bag
+that Emma was knitting for her. On all sides were mysterious
+whisperings, and showing of things wrapped in brown paper, glimpses of
+which, through some inadvertence, were always appearing to the public
+eye. There were close counsels held behind doors and in corners, and
+suddenly broken off when some particular member of the family appeared.
+There were flutters of vanishing book marks, which were always whisked
+away when a door opened; and incessant ejaculations of admiration and
+astonishment from one privileged looker or another on things which might
+not be mentioned to or beheld by others.
+
+Papa and mamma behaved with the utmost circumspection and discretion,
+and though surrounded on all sides by such pitfalls and labyrinths of
+mystery, moved about with an air of the most unconscious simplicity
+possible.
+
+But little Ally, from her privileged character, became a very
+spoil-sport in the proceedings. Her small fingers were always pulling
+open parcels prematurely, or lifting pocket handkerchiefs ingeniously
+thrown down over mysterious articles, and thus disconcerting the very
+profoundest surprises that ever were planned; and were it not that she
+was still within the bounds of the kingly state of babyhood, and
+therefore could be held to do no wrong, she would certainly have fallen
+into general disgrace; but then it was "Ally," and that was apology for
+all things, and the exploit was related in half whispers as so funny, so
+cunning, that Miss Curlypate was in nowise disconcerted at the head
+shakes and "naughty Allys" that visited her offences.
+
+"What dis?" said she, one morning, as she was rummaging over some
+packages indiscreetly left on the sofa.
+
+"O Emma! see Ally!" exclaimed Eliza, darting forward; but too late, for
+the flaxen curls and blue eyes of a wax doll had already appeared.
+
+"Now she'll know all about it," said Eliza, despairingly.
+
+Ally looked in astonishment, as dolly's visage promptly disappeared from
+her view, and then turned to pursue her business in another quarter of
+the room, where, spying something glittering under the sofa, she
+forthwith pulled out and held up to public view a crochet bag sparkling
+with innumerable steel fringes.
+
+"O, what be dis!" she exclaimed again.
+
+Miss Emma sprang to the rescue, while all the other children, with a
+burst of exclamations, turned their eyes on mamma. Mamma very prudently
+did not turn her head, and appeared to be lost in reflection, though she
+must have been quite deaf not to have heard the loud whispers--"It's
+mamma's bag! only think! Don't you think, Tom, Ally pulled out mamma's
+bag, and held it right up before her! Don't you think she'll find out?"
+
+Master Tom valued himself greatly on the original and profound ways he
+had of adapting his presents to the tastes of the receiver without
+exciting suspicion: for example, he would come up into his mother's
+room, all booted and coated for a ride to town, jingling his purse
+gleefully, and begin,--
+
+"Mother, mother, which do you like best, pink or blue?"
+
+"That might depend on circumstances, my son."
+
+"Well, but, mother, for a neck ribbon, for example; suppose somebody was
+going to buy you a neck ribbon."
+
+"Why, blue would be the most suitable for me, I think."
+
+"Well, but mother, which should you think was the best, a neck ribbon or
+a book?"
+
+"What book? It would depend something on that."
+
+"Why, as good a book as a fellow could get for thirty-seven cents," says
+Tom.
+
+"Well, on the whole, I think I should prefer the ribbon."
+
+"There, Ned," says Tom, coming down the stairs, "I've found out just
+what mother wants, without telling her a word about it."
+
+But the crowning mystery of all the great family arcana, the thing that
+was going to astonish papa and mamma past all recovery, was certain
+projected book marks, that little Ally was going to be made to work for
+them. This bold scheme was projected by Miss Emma, and she had armed
+herself with a whole paper of sugar plums, to be used as adjuvants to
+moral influence, in case the discouragements of the undertaking should
+prove too much for Ally's patience.
+
+As to Ally, she felt all the dignity of the enterprise--her whole little
+soul was absorbed in it. Seated on Emma's knee, with the needle between
+her little fat fingers, and holding the board very tight, as if she was
+afraid it would run away from her, she very gravely and carefully stuck
+the needle in every place but the right--pricked her pretty fingers--ate
+sugar plums--stopping now to pat Rover, and now to stroke pussy--letting
+fall her thimble, and bustling down to pick it up--occasionally taking
+an episodical race round the room with Rover, during which time Sister
+Emma added a stitch or two to the work.
+
+I would not wish to have been required, on oath, to give in my
+undisguised opinion as to the number of stitches the little one really
+put into her present, but she had a most genuine and firm conviction
+that she worked every stitch of it herself; and when, on returning from
+a scamper with pussy, she found one or two letters finished, she never
+doubted that the whole was of her own execution, and, of course, thought
+that working book marks was one of the most delightful occupations in
+the world. It was all that her little heart could do to keep from papa
+and mamma the wonderful secret. Every evening she would bustle about her
+father with an air of such great mystery, and seek to pique his
+curiosity by most skilful hints, such as,--
+
+"I know somefing! but I s'ant tell you."
+
+"Not tell me! O Ally! Why not?"
+
+"O, it's about--a New 'Ear's pes----"
+
+"Ally, Ally," resounds from several voices, "don't you tell."
+
+"No, I s'ant--but you are going to have a New 'Ear's pesant, and so is
+mamma, and you can't dess what it is."
+
+"Can't I?"
+
+"No, and I s'ant tell you."
+
+"Now, Ally," said papa, pretending to look aggrieved.
+
+"Well, it's going to be--somefin worked."
+
+"Ally, be careful," said Emma.
+
+"Yes, I'll be very tareful; it's somefin--_weall_ pretty--somefin to put
+in a book. You'll find out about it by and by."
+
+"I think I'm in a fair way to," said the father.
+
+The conversation now digressed to other subjects, and the nurse came in
+to take Ally to bed; who, as she kissed her father, in the fulness of
+her heart, added a fresh burst of information. "Papa," said she, in an
+earnest whisper, "that _fin_ is about so long"--measuring on her fat
+little arm.
+
+"A _fin_, Ally? Why, you are not going to give me a fish, are you?"
+
+"I mean that _thing_," said Ally, speaking the word with great effort,
+and getting quite red in the face.
+
+"O, that _thing_; I beg pardon, my lady; that puts another face on the
+communication," said the father, stroking her head fondly, as he bade
+her good night.
+
+"The child can talk plainer than she does," said the father, "but we are
+all so delighted with her little Hottentot dialect, that I don't know
+but she will keep it up till she is twenty."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It now wanted only three days of the New Year, when a sudden and deadly
+shadow fell on the dwelling, late so busy and joyous--a shadow from the
+grave; and it fell on the flower of the garden--the star--the singing
+bird--the loved and loving Ally.
+
+She was stricken down at once, in the flush of her innocent enjoyment,
+by a fever, which from the first was ushered in with symptoms the most
+fearful.
+
+All the bustle of preparation ceased--the presents were forgotten or lay
+about unfinished, as if no one now had a heart to put their hand to any
+thing; while up in her little crib lay the beloved one, tossing and
+burning with restless fever, and without power to recognize any of the
+loved faces that bent over her.
+
+The doctor came twice a day, with a heavy step, and a face in which
+anxious care was too plainly written; and while he was there each member
+of the circle hung with anxious, imploring faces about him, as if to
+entreat him to save their darling; but still the deadly disease held on
+its relentless course, in spite of all that could be done.
+
+"I thought myself prepared to meet God's will in any form it might
+come," said Winthrop to me; "but this one thing I had forgotten. It
+never entered into my head that my little Ally could die."
+
+The evening before New Year's, the deadly disease seemed to be
+progressing more rapidly than ever; and when the doctor came for his
+evening call, he found all the family gathered in mournful stillness
+around the little crib.
+
+"I suppose," said the father, with an effort to speak calmly, "that this
+may be her last night with us."
+
+The doctor made no answer, and the whole circle of brothers and sisters
+broke out into bitter weeping.
+
+"It is just possible that she may live till to-morrow," said the doctor.
+
+"To-morrow--her birthday!" said the mother. "O Ally, Ally!"
+
+Wearily passed the watches of that night. Each brother and sister had
+kissed the pale little cheek, to bid farewell, and gone to their rooms,
+to sob themselves to sleep; and the father and mother and doctor alone
+watched around the bed. O, what a watch is that which despairing love
+keeps, waiting for death! Poor Rover, the companion of Ally's gayer
+hours, resolutely refused to be excluded from the sick chamber.
+Stretched under the little crib, he watched with unsleeping eyes every
+motion of the attendants, and as often as they rose to administer
+medicine, or change the pillow, or bathe the head, he would rise also,
+and look anxiously over the side of the crib, as if he understood all
+that was passing.
+
+About an hour past midnight, the child began to change; her moans became
+fainter and fainter, her restless movements ceased, and a deep and heavy
+sleep settled upon her.
+
+The parents looked wistfully on the doctor. "It is the last change," he
+said; "she will probably pass away before the daybreak."
+
+Heavier and deeper grew that sleep, and to the eye of the anxious
+watchers the little face grew paler and paler; yet by degrees the
+breathing became regular and easy, and a gentle moisture began to
+diffuse itself over the whole surface. A new hope began to dawn on the
+minds of the parents, as they pointed out these symptoms to the doctor.
+
+"All things are possible with God," said he, in answer to the inquiring
+looks he met, "and it may be that she will yet live."
+
+An hour more passed, and the rosy glow of the New Year's morning began
+to blush over the snowy whiteness of the landscape. Far off from the
+window could be seen the kindling glow of a glorious sunrise, looking
+all the brighter for the dark pines that half veiled it from view; and
+now a straight and glittering beam shot from the east into the still
+chamber. It fell on the golden hair and pale brow of the child, lighting
+it up as if an angel had smiled on it; and slowly the large blue eyes
+unclosed, and gazed dreamily around.
+
+"Ally, Ally," said the father, bending over her, trembling with
+excitement.
+
+"You are going to have a New 'Ear's pesent," whispered the little one,
+faintly smiling.
+
+"I believe from my heart that you are, sir!" said the doctor, who stood
+with his fingers on her pulse; "she has passed through the crisis of the
+disease, and we may hope."
+
+A few hours turned this hope to glad certainty; for with the elastic
+rapidity of infant life, the signs of returning vigor began to multiply,
+and ere evening the little one was lying in her father's arms, answering
+with languid smiles to the overflowing proofs of tenderness which every
+member of the family was showering upon her.
+
+"See, my children," said the father gently, "_this dear one_ is _our_
+New Year's present. What can we render to God in return?"
+
+
+
+
+THE OLD OAK OF ANDOVER.
+
+A REVERY.
+
+
+Silently, with dreamy languor, the fleecy snow is falling. Through the
+windows, flowery with blossoming geranium and heliotrope, through the
+downward sweep of crimson and muslin curtain, one watches it as the wind
+whirls and sways it in swift eddies.
+
+Right opposite our house, on our Mount Clear, is an old oak, the apostle
+of the primeval forest. Once, when this place was all wildwood, the man
+who was seeking a spot for the location of the buildings of Phillips
+Academy climbed this oak, using it as a sort of green watchtower, from
+whence he might gain a view of the surrounding country. Age and time,
+since then, have dealt hardly with the stanch old fellow. His limbs have
+been here and there shattered; his back begins to look mossy and
+dilapidated; but after all, there is a piquant, decided air about him,
+that speaks the old age of a tree of distinction, a kingly oak. To-day I
+see him standing, dimly revealed through the mist of falling snows;
+to-morrow's sun will show the outline of his gnarled limbs--all rose
+color with their soft snow burden; and again a few months, and spring
+will breathe on him, and he will draw a long breath, and break out once
+more, for the three hundredth time, perhaps, into a vernal crown of
+leaves. I sometimes think that leaves are the thoughts of trees, and
+that if we only knew it, we should find their life's experience recorded
+in them. Our oak! what a crop of meditations and remembrances must he
+have thrown forth, leafing out century after century. Awhile he spake
+and thought only of red deer and Indians; of the trillium that opened
+its white triangle in his shade; of the scented arbutus, fair as the
+pink ocean shell, weaving her fragrant mats in the moss at his feet; of
+feathery ferns, casting their silent shadows on the checkerberry leaves,
+and all those sweet, wild, nameless, half-mossy things, that live in the
+gloom of forests, and are only desecrated when brought to scientific
+light, laid out and stretched on a botanic bier. Sweet old forest
+days!--when blue jay, and yellow hammer, and bobalink made his leaves
+merry, and summer was a long opera of such music as Mozart dimly
+dreamed. But then came human kind bustling beneath; wondering, fussing,
+exploring, measuring, treading down flowers, cutting down trees, scaring
+bobalinks--and Andover, as men say, began to be settled.
+
+Staunch men were they--these Puritan fathers of Andover. The old oak
+must have felt them something akin to himself. Such strong, wrestling
+limbs had they, so gnarled and knotted were they, yet so outbursting
+with a green and vernal crown, yearly springing, of noble and generous
+thoughts, rustling with leaves which shall be for the healing of
+nations.
+
+These men were content with the hard, dry crust for themselves, that
+they might sow seeds of abundant food for us, their children; men out of
+whose hardness in enduring we gain leisure to be soft and graceful,
+through whose poverty we have become rich. Like Moses, they had for
+their portion only the pain and weariness of the wilderness, leaving to
+us the fruition of the promised land. Let us cherish for their sake the
+old oak, beautiful in its age as the broken statue of some antique
+wrestler, brown with time, yet glorious in its suggestion of past
+achievement.
+
+I think all this the more that I have recently come across the following
+passage in one of our religious papers. The writer expresses a kind of
+sentiment which one meets very often upon this subject, and leads one to
+wonder what glamour could have fallen on the minds of any of the
+descendants of the Puritans, that they should cast nettles on those
+honored graves where they should be proud to cast their laurels.
+
+"It is hard," he says, "for a lover of the beautiful--not a mere lover,
+but a believer in its divinity also--to forgive the Puritans, or to
+think charitably of them. It is hard for him to keep Forefathers' Day,
+or to subscribe to the Plymouth Monument; hard to look fairly at what
+they did, with the memory of what they destroyed rising up to choke
+thankfulness; for they were as one-sided and narrow-minded a set of men
+as ever lived, and saw one of Truth's faces only--the hard, stern,
+practical face, without loveliness, without beauty, and only half dear
+to God. The Puritan flew in the face of facts, not because he saw them
+and disliked them, but because he did not see them. He saw foolishness,
+lying, stealing, worldliness--the very mammon of unrighteousness rioting
+in the world and bearing sway--and he ran full tilt against the monster,
+hating it with a very mortal and mundane hatred, and anxious to see it
+bite the dust that his own horn might be exalted. It was in truth only
+another horn of the old dilemma, tossing and goring grace and beauty,
+and all the loveliness of life, as if they were the enemies instead of
+the sure friends of God and man."
+
+Now, to those who say this we must ask the question with which Socrates
+of old pursued the sophist: What _is_ beauty? If beauty be only
+physical, if it appeal only to the senses, if it be only an enchantment
+of graceful forms, sweet sounds, then indeed there might be something of
+truth in this sweeping declaration that the Puritan spirit is the enemy
+of beauty.
+
+The very root and foundation of all artistic inquiry lies here. _What is
+beauty?_ And to this question God forbid that we _Christians_ should
+give a narrower answer than Plato gave in the old times before Christ
+arose, for he directs the aspirant who would discover the beautiful to
+"consider of greater value the beauty existing _in the soul_, than that
+existing in the body." More gracefully he teaches the same doctrine when
+he tells us that "there are two kinds of Venus, (beauty;) the one, the
+elder, who had no mother, and was the daughter of Uranus, (heaven,) whom
+we name the celestial; the other, younger, daughter of Jupiter and
+Dione, whom we call the vulgar."
+
+Now, if disinterestedness, faith, patience, piety, have a beauty
+celestial and divine, then were our fathers worshippers of the
+beautiful. If high-mindedness and spotless honor are beautiful things,
+they had those. What work of art can compare with a lofty and heroic
+life? Is it not better to _be_ a Moses than to be a Michael Angelo
+making statues of Moses? Is not the _life_ of Paul a sublimer work of
+art than Raphael's cartoons? Are not the patience, the faith, the
+undying love of Mary by the cross, more beautiful than all the Madonna
+paintings in the world. If, then, we would speak truly of our fathers,
+we should say that, having their minds fixed on that celestial beauty of
+which Plato speaks, they held in slight esteem that more common and
+earthly.
+
+Should we continue the parable in Plato's manner, we might say that the
+earthly and visible Venus, the outward grace of art and nature, was
+ordained of God as a priestess, through whom men were to gain access to
+the divine, invisible One; but that men, in their blindness, ever
+worship the priestess instead of the divinity.
+
+Therefore it is that great reformers so often must break the shrines and
+temples of the physical and earthly beauty, when they seek to draw men
+upward to that which is high and divine.
+
+Christ says of John the Baptist, "What went ye out for to see? A man
+clothed in soft raiment? Behold they which are clothed in soft raiment
+are in kings' palaces." So was it when our fathers came here. There were
+enough wearing soft raiment and dwelling in kings' palaces. Life in
+papal Rome and prelatic England was weighed down with blossoming luxury.
+There were abundance of people to think of pictures, and statues, and
+gems, and cameos, vases and marbles, and all manner of deliciousness.
+The world was all drunk with the enchantments of the lower Venus, and it
+was needful that these men should come, Baptist-like in the wilderness,
+in raiment of camel's hair. We need such men now. Art, they tell us, is
+waking in America; a love of the beautiful is beginning to unfold its
+wings; but what kind of art, and what kind of beauty? Are we to fill our
+houses with pictures and gems, and to see that even our drinking cup and
+vase is wrought in graceful pattern, and to lose our reverence for
+self-denial, honor, and faith?
+
+Is our Venus to be the frail, insnaring Aphrodite, or the starry, divine
+Urania?
+
+
+
+
+OUR WOOD LOT IN WINTER.
+
+
+Our wood lot! Yes, we have arrived at the dignity of owning a wood lot,
+and for us simple folk there is something invigorating in the thought.
+To OWN even a small spot of our dear old mother earth hath in it a
+relish of something stimulating to human nature. To own a meadow, with
+all its thousand-fold fringes of grasses, its broidery of monthly
+flowers, and its outriders of birds, and bees, and gold-winged
+insects--this is something that establishes one's heart. To own a clover
+patch or a buckwheat field is like possessing a self-moving manufactory
+for perfumes and sweetness; but a wood lot, rustling with dignified old
+trees--it makes a man rise in his own esteem; he might take off his hat
+to himself at the moment of acquisition.
+
+We do not marvel that the land-acquiring passion becomes a mania among
+our farmers, and particularly we do not wonder at a passion for wood
+land. That wide, deep chasm of conscious self-poverty and emptiness
+which lies at the bottom of every human heart, making men crave property
+as something to add to one's own bareness, and to ballast one's own
+specific levity, is sooner filled by land than any thing else.
+
+Your hoary New England farmer walks over his acres with a grim
+satisfaction. He sets his foot down with a hard stamp; _here_ is
+reality. No moonshine bank stock! no swindling railroads! _Here_ is
+_his_ bank, and there is no defaulter here. All is true, solid, and
+satisfactory; he seems anchored to this life by it. So Pope, with fine
+tact, makes the old miser, making his will on his death bed, after
+parting with every thing, die, clinging to the possession of his _land_.
+He disposes with many a groan of this and that house, and this and that
+stock and security; but at last the _manor_ is proposed to him.
+
+          "The manor! hold!" he cried,
+    "Not that; _I cannot part with that!_"--and died!
+
+In such terms we discoursed yesterday, Herr Professor and myself, while
+jogging along in an old-fashioned chaise to inspect a few acres of wood
+lot, the acquisition of which had let us, with great freshness, into
+these reflections.
+
+Does any fair lady shiver at the idea of a drive to the woods on the
+first of February? Let me assure her that in the coldest season Nature
+never wants her ornaments full worth looking at.
+
+See here, for instance--let us stop the old chaise, and get out a minute
+to look at this brook--one of our last summer's pets. What is he doing
+this winter? Let us at least say, "How do you do?" to him. Ah, here he
+is! and he and Jack Frost together have been turning the little gap in
+the old stone wall, through which he leaped down to the road, into a
+little grotto of Antiparos. Some old rough rails and boards that dropped
+over it are sheathed in plates of transparent silver. The trunks of the
+black alders are mailed with crystal; and the witch-hazel, and yellow
+osiers fringing its sedgy borders, are likewise shining through their
+glossy covering. Around every stem that rises from the water is a
+glittering ring of ice. The tags of the alder and the red berries of
+last summer's wild roses glitter now like a lady's pendant. As for the
+brook, he is wide awake and joyful; and where the roof of sheet ice
+breaks away, you can see his yellow-brown waters rattling and gurgling
+among the stones as briskly as they did last July. Down he springs! over
+the glossy-coated stone wall, throwing new sparkles into the fairy
+grotto around him; and widening daily from melting snows, and such other
+godsends, he goes chattering off under yonder mossy stone bridge, and we
+lose sight of him. It might be fancy, but it seemed that our watery
+friend tipped us a cheery wink as he passed, saying, "Fine weather, sir
+and madam; nice times these; and in April you'll find us all right; the
+flowers are making up their finery for the next season; there's to be a
+splendid display in a month or two."
+
+Then the cloud lights of a wintry sky have a clear purity and brilliancy
+that no other months can rival. The rose tints, and the shading of rose
+tint into gold, the flossy, filmy accumulation of illuminated vapor that
+drifts across the sky in a January afternoon, are beauties far exceeding
+those of summer.
+
+Neither are trees, as seen in winter, destitute of their own peculiar
+beauty. If it be a gorgeous study in summer time to watch the play of
+their abundant leafage, we still may thank winter for laying bare before
+us the grand and beautiful anatomy of the tree, with all its interlacing
+network of boughs, knotted on each twig with the buds of next year's
+promise. The fleecy and rosy clouds look all the more beautiful through
+the dark lace veil of yonder magnificent elms; and the down-drooping
+drapery of yonder willow hath its own grace of outline as it sweeps the
+bare snows. And these comical old apple trees, why, in summer they look
+like so many plump, green cushions, one as much like another as
+possible; but under the revealing light of winter every characteristic
+twist and jerk stands disclosed.
+
+One might moralize on this--how affliction, which strips us of all
+ornaments and accessories, and brings us down to the permanent and solid
+wood of our nature, develops such wide differences in people who before
+seemed not much distinct.
+
+But here! our pony's feet are now clinking on the icy path under the
+shadow of the white pines of "our wood lot." The path runs in a deep
+hollow, and on either hand rise slopes dark and sheltered with the
+fragrant white pine. White pines are favorites with us for many good
+reasons. We love their balsamic breath, the long, slender needles of
+their leaves, and, above all, the constant sibylline whisperings that
+never cease among their branches. In summer the ground beneath them is
+paved with a soft and cleanly matting of their last year's leaves; and
+then their talking seems to be of coolness ever dwelling far up in their
+fringy, waving hollows. And now, in winter time, we find the same smooth
+floor; for the heavy curtains above shut out the snow, and the same
+voices above whisper of shelter and quiet. "You are welcome," they say;
+"the north wind is gone to sleep; we are rocking him in our cradles. Sit
+down and be quiet from the cold." At the feet of these slumberous old
+pines we find many of our last summer's friends looking as good as new.
+The small, round-leafed partridgeberry weaves its viny mat, and lays out
+its scarlet fruit; and here are blackberry vines with leaves still
+green, though with a bluish tint, not unlike what invades mortal noses
+in such weather. Here, too, are the bright, varnished leaves of the
+Indian pine, and the vines of feathery green of which our Christmas
+garlands are made; and here, undaunted, though frozen to the very heart
+this cold day, is many another leafy thing which we met last summer
+rejoicing each in its own peculiar flower. What names they have received
+from scientific god-fathers at the botanic fount we know not; we have
+always known them by fairy nicknames of our own--the pet names of
+endearment which lie between Nature's children and us in her domestic
+circle.
+
+There is something peculiarly sweet to us about a certain mystical
+dreaminess and obscurity in these wild wood tribes, which we never wish
+to have brought out into the daylight of absolute knowledge. Every one
+of them was a self-discovered treasure of our childhood, as much our own
+as if God had made it on purpose and presented it; and it was ever a
+part of the joy to think we had found something that no one else knew,
+and so musing on them, we gave them names in our heart.
+
+We search about amid the sere, yellow skeletons of last summer's ferns,
+if haply winter have forgotten one green leaf for our home vase--in vain
+we rake, freezing our fingers through our fur gloves--there is not one.
+An icicle has pierced every heart; and there are no fern leaves except
+those miniature ones which each plant is holding in its heart, to be
+sent up in next summer's hour of joy. But here are mosses--tufts of all
+sorts; the white, crisp and crumbling, fair as winter frostwork; and
+here the feathery green of which French milliners make moss rose buds;
+and here the cup-moss--these we gather with some care, frozen as they
+are to the wintry earth.
+
+Now, stumbling up this ridge, we come to a little patch of hemlocks,
+spreading out their green wings, and making, in the ravine, a deep
+shelter, where many a fresh springing thing is standing, and where we
+gain much for our home vases. These pines are motherly creatures. One
+can think how it must rejoice the heart of a partridge or a rabbit to
+come from the dry, whistling sweep of a deciduous forest under the
+home-like shadow of their branches. "As for the stork, the fir trees are
+her house," says the Hebrew poet; and our fir trees, this winter, give
+shelter to much small game. Often, on the light-fallen snow, I meet
+their little footprints. They have a naive, helpless, innocent
+appearance, these little tracks, that softens my heart like a child's
+footprint. Not one of them is forgotten of our Father; and therefore I
+remember them kindly.
+
+And now, with cold toes and fingers, and arms full of leafy treasures,
+we plod our way back to the chaise. A pleasant song is in my ears from
+this old wood lot--it speaks of green and cheerful patience in life's
+hard weather. Not a scowling, sullen endurance, not a despairing,
+hand-dropping resignation, but a heart cheerfulness that holds on to
+every leaf, and twig, and flower, and bravely smiles and keeps green
+when frozen to the very heart, knowing that the winter is but for a
+season, and that the sunshine and bird singings shall return, and the
+last year's dry flower stalk give place to the risen, glorified flower.
+
+
+
+
+POEMS.
+
+THE CHARMER.
+
+
+     "_Socrates._--'However, you and Simmias appear to me as if you
+     wished to sift this subject more thoroughly, and to be afraid, like
+     children, lest, on the soul's departure from the body, winds should
+     blow it away.'
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     "Upon this Cebes said, 'Endeavor to teach us better, Socrates. * *
+     * Perhaps there is a childish spirit in our breast, that has such a
+     dread. Let us endeavor to persuade him not to be afraid of death,
+     as of hobgoblins.'
+
+     "'But you must _charm_ him every day,' said Socrates, 'until you
+     have quieted his fears.'
+
+     "'But whence, O Socrates,' he said, 'can we procure a skilful
+     charmer for such a case, now you are about to leave us.'
+
+     "'Greece is wide, Cebes,' he replied: 'and in it surely there are
+     skilful men, and there are also many barbarous nations, all of
+     which you should search, seeking such a charmer, sparing neither
+     money nor toil, as there is nothing on which you can more
+     reasonably spend your money.'"--(_Last conversation of Socrates
+     with his disciples, as narrated by Plato in the Phædo._)
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "We need that Charmer, for our hearts are sore
+      With longings for the things that may not be;
+    Faint for the friends that shall return no more;
+      Dark with distrust, or wrung with agony.
+
+    "What is this life? and what to us is death?
+      Whence came we? whither go? and where are those
+    Who, in a moment stricken from our side,
+      Passed to that land of shadow and repose?
+
+    "And are they all dust? and dust must we become?
+      Or are they living in some unknown clime?
+    Shall we regain them in that far-off home,
+      And live anew beyond the waves of time?
+
+    "O man divine! on thee our souls have hung;
+      Thou wert our teacher in these questions high;
+    But, ah, this day divides thee from our side,
+      And veils in dust thy kindly-guiding eye.
+
+    "Where is that Charmer whom thou bidst us seek?
+      On what far shores may his sweet voice be heard?
+    When shall these questions of our yearning souls
+      Be answered by the bright Eternal Word?"
+
+    So spake the youth of Athens, weeping round,
+      When Socrates lay calmly down to die;
+    So spake the sage, prophetic of the hour
+      When earth's fair morning star should rise on high.
+
+    They found Him not, those youths of soul divine,
+      Long seeking, wandering, watching on life's shore--
+    Reasoning, aspiring, yearning for the light,
+      Death came and found them--doubting as before.
+
+    But years passed on; and lo! the Charmer came--
+      Pure, simple, sweet, as comes the silver dew;
+    And the world knew him not--he walked alone,
+      Encircled only by his trusting few.
+
+    Like the Athenian sage rejected, scorned,
+      Betrayed, condemned, his day of doom drew nigh;
+    He drew his faithful few more closely round,
+      And told them that _his_ hour was come to die.
+
+    "Let not your heart be troubled," then he said;
+      "My Father's house hath mansions large and fair;
+    I go before you to prepare your place;
+      I will return to take you with me there."
+
+    And since that hour the awful foe is charmed,
+      And life and death are glorified and fair.
+    Whither he went we know--the way we know--
+      And with firm step press on to meet him there.
+
+
+
+
+PILGRIM'S SONG IN THE DESERT.
+
+
+    'Tis morning now--upon the eastern hills
+      Once more the sun lights up this cheerless scene;
+    But O, no morning in my Father's house
+      Is dawning now, for there no night hath been.
+
+    Ten thousand thousand now, on Zion's hills,
+      All robed in white, with palmy crowns, do stray,
+    While I, an exile, far from fatherland,
+      Still wandering, faint along the desert way.
+
+    O home! dear home! my own, my native home!
+      O Father, friends, when shall I look on you?
+    When shall these weary wanderings be o'er,
+      And I be gathered back to stray no more?
+
+    O thou, the brightness of whose gracious face
+      These weary, longing eyes have never seen,--
+    By whose dear thought, for whose beloved sake,
+      My course, through toil and tears, I daily take,--
+
+    I think of thee when the myrrh-dropping morn
+      Steps forth upon the purple eastern steep;
+    I think of thee in the fair eventide,
+      When the bright-sandalled stars their watches keep.
+
+    And trembling hope, and fainting, sorrowing love,
+      On thy dear word for comfort doth rely;
+    And clear-eyed Faith, with strong forereaching gaze,
+      Beholds thee here, unseen, but ever nigh.
+
+    Walking in white with thee, she dimly sees,
+      All beautiful, these lovely ones withdrawn,
+    With whom my heart went upward, as they rose,
+      Like morning stars, to light a coming dawn.
+
+    All sinless now, and crowned, and glorified,
+      Where'er thou movest move they still with thee,
+    As erst, in sweet communion by thy side,
+      Walked John and Mary in old Galilee.
+
+    But hush, my heart! 'Tis but a day or two
+      Divides thee from that bright, immortal shore.
+    Rise up! rise up! and gird thee for the race!
+      Fast fly the hours, and all will soon be o'er.
+
+    Thou hast the new name written in thy soul;
+      Thou hast the mystic stone he gives his own.
+    Thy soul, made one with him, shall feel no more
+      That she is walking on her path alone.
+
+
+
+
+MARY AT THE CROSS.
+
+
+     "Now there stood by the cross of Jesus his mother."
+
+
+    O wondrous mother! Since the dawn of time
+    Was ever joy, was ever grief like thine?
+    O, highly favored in thy joy's deep flow,
+    And favored e'en in this, thy bitterest woe!
+
+    Poor was that home in simple Nazareth,
+      Where thou, fair growing, like some silent flower,
+    Last of a kingly line,--unknown and lowly,
+      O desert lily,--passed thy childhood's hour.
+
+    The world knew not the tender, serious maiden,
+      Who, through deep loving years so silent grew,
+    Filled with high thoughts and holy aspirations,
+      Which, save thy Father, God's, no eye might view.
+
+    And then it came, that message from the Highest,
+      Such as to woman ne'er before descended;
+    Th' almighty shadowing wings thy soul o'erspread,
+      And with thy life the Life of worlds was blended.
+
+    What visions, then, of future glory filled thee,
+      Mother of King and kingdom yet unknown--
+    Mother, fulfiller of all prophecy,
+      Which through dim ages wondering seers had shown!
+
+    Well did thy dark eye kindle, thy deep soul
+      Rise into billows, and thy heart rejoice;
+    Then woke the poet's fire, the prophet's song
+      Tuned with strange, burning words thy timid voice.
+
+    Then in dark contrast came the lowly manger,
+     The outcast shed, the tramp of brutal feet;
+    Again, behold earth's learned, and her lowly,
+      Sages and shepherds, prostrate at thy feet.
+
+    Then to the temple bearing, hark! again
+      What strange, conflicting tones of prophecy
+    Breathe o'er the Child, foreshadowing words of joy,
+      High triumph, and yet bitter agony.
+
+    O, highly favored thou, in many an hour
+      Spent in lone musing with thy wondrous Son,
+    When thou didst gaze into that glorious eye,
+      And hold that mighty hand within thy own.
+
+    Blessed through those thirty years, when in thy dwelling
+      He lived a God disguised, with unknown power,
+    And thou, his sole adorer,--his best love,--
+      Trusting, revering, waitedst for his hour.
+
+    Blessed in that hour, when called by opening heaven
+      With cloud, and voice, and the baptizing flame,
+    Up from the Jordan walked th' acknowledged stranger,
+      And awe-struck crowds grew silent as he came.
+
+    Blessed, when full of grace, with glory crowned,
+      He from both hands almighty favors poured,
+    And, though he had not where to lay his head,
+      Brought to his feet alike the slave and lord.
+
+    Crowds followed; thousands shouted, "Lo, our King!"
+      Fast beat thy heart; now, now the hour draws nigh:
+    Behold the crown--the throne! the nations bend.
+      Ah, no! fond mother, no! behold him die.
+
+    Now by that cross thou tak'st thy final station,
+      And shar'st the last dark trial of thy Son;
+    Not with weak tears or woman's lamentation,
+      But with high, silent anguish, like his own.
+
+    Hail, highly favored, even in this deep passion,
+      Hail, in this bitter anguish--thou art blest--
+    Blest in the holy power with him to suffer
+      Those deep death pangs that lead to higher rest.
+
+    All now is darkness; and in that deep stillness
+      The God-man wrestles with that mighty woe;
+    Hark to that cry, the rock of ages rending--
+      "'Tis finished!" Mother, all is glory now!
+
+    By sufferings mighty as his mighty soul
+      Hath the Jehovah risen--forever blest;
+    And through all ages must his heart-beloved
+      Through the same baptism enter the same rest.
+
+
+
+
+CHRISTIAN PEACE.
+
+
+     "Thou shalt hide them in the secret of thy presence from the pride
+     of man; thou shalt keep them secretly as in a pavilion from the
+     strife of tongues."
+
+
+    When winds are raging o'er the upper ocean,
+      And billows wild contend with angry roar,
+    'Tis said, far down beneath the wild commotion,
+      That peaceful _stillness_ reigneth evermore.
+
+    Far, far beneath, the noise of tempest dieth,
+      And silver waves chime ever peacefully,
+    And no rude storm, how fierce soe'er he flieth,
+      Disturbs the Sabbath of that deeper sea.
+
+    So to the heart that knows thy love, O Purest,
+      There is a temple, sacred evermore,
+    And all the babble of life's angry voices
+      Die in hushed stillness at its peaceful door.
+
+    Far, far away, the roar of passion dieth,
+      And loving thoughts rise calm and peacefully,
+    And no rude storm, how fierce soe'er he flieth,
+      Disturbs the soul that dwells, O Lord, in thee.
+
+    O, rest of rests! O, peace serene, eternal!
+      THOU ever livest; and thou changest never;
+    And in the _secret of thy presence_ dwelleth
+      Fulness of joy--forever and forever.
+
+
+
+
+ABIDE IN ME AND I IN YOU.
+
+THE SOUL'S ANSWER.
+
+
+    That mystic word of thine, O sovereign Lord,
+      Is all too pure, too high, too deep for me;
+    Weary of striving, and with longing faint,
+      I breathe it back again in _prayer_ to thee.
+
+    Abide in me, I pray, and I in thee;
+      From this good hour, O, leave me nevermore;
+    Then shall the discord cease, the wound be healed,
+      The lifelong bleeding of the soul be o'er.
+
+    Abide in me--o'ershadow by thy love
+      Each half-formed purpose and dark thought of sin;
+    Quench, e'er it rise, each selfish, low desire,
+      And keep my soul as thine, calm and divine.
+
+    As some rare perfume in a vase of clay
+      Pervades it with a fragrance not its own,
+    So, when thou dwellest in a mortal soul,
+      All heaven's own sweetness seems around it thrown.
+
+    The soul alone, like a neglected harp,
+      Grows out of tune, and needs a hand divine;
+    Dwell thou within it, tune, and touch the chords,
+      Till every note and string shall answer thine.
+
+    _Abide in me_; there have been moments pure
+      When I have seen thy face and felt thy power;
+    Then evil lost its grasp, and passion, hushed,
+      Owned the divine enchantment of the hour.
+
+    These were but seasons beautiful and rare;
+      "Abide in me,"--and they shall _ever be_;
+    Fulfil at once thy precept and my prayer--
+      _Come_ and _abide_ in me, and I in thee.
+
+
+
+
+WHEN I AWAKE I AM STILL WITH THEE.
+
+
+    Still, still with thee, when purple morning breaketh,
+      When the bird waketh and the shadows flee;
+    Fairer than morning, lovelier than the daylight,
+      Dawns the sweet consciousness, _I am with thee_!
+
+    Alone with thee, amid the mystic shadows,
+      The solemn hush of nature newly born;
+    Alone with thee in breathless adoration,
+      In the calm dew and freshness of the morn.
+
+    As in the dawning o'er the waveless ocean
+      The image of the morning star doth rest,
+    So in this stillness thou beholdest only
+      Thine image in the waters of my breast.
+
+    Still, still with thee! as to each new-born morning
+      A fresh and solemn splendor still is given,
+    So doth this blessed consciousness, awaking,
+      Breathe, each day, nearness unto thee and heaven.
+
+    When sinks the soul, subdued by toil, to slumber,
+      Its closing eye looks up to thee in prayer,
+    Sweet the repose beneath thy wings o'ershading,
+      But sweeter still to wake and find thee there.
+
+    So shall it be at last, in that bright morning
+      When the soul waketh and life's shadows flee;
+    O, in that hour, fairer than daylight dawning,
+      Shall rise the glorious thought, _I am with thee_!
+
+
+
+
+CHRIST'S VOICE IN THE SOUL.
+
+
+     "Come ye yourselves into a desert place and rest a while; for there
+     were many coming and going, so that they had no time so much as to
+     eat."
+
+
+    'Mid the mad whirl of life, its dim confusion,
+      Its jarring discords and poor vanity,
+    Breathing like music over troubled waters,
+      What gentle voice, O Christian, speaks to thee?
+
+    It is a stranger--not of earth or earthly;
+      By the serene, deep fulness of that eye,--
+    By the calm, pitying smile, the gesture lowly,--
+      It is thy Savior as he passeth by.
+
+    "Come, come," he saith, "into a desert place,
+      Thou who art weary of life's lower sphere;
+    Leave its low strifes, forget its babbling noise;
+      Come thou with me--all shall be bright and clear.
+
+    "Art thou bewildered by contesting voices,
+      Sick to thy soul of party noise and strife?
+    Come, leave it all, and seek that solitude
+      Where thou shalt learn of me a purer life.
+
+    "When far behind the world's great tumult dieth,
+      Thou shalt look back and wonder at its roar;
+    But its far voice shall seem to thee a dream,
+      Its power to vex thy holier life be o'er.
+
+    "There shalt thou learn the secret of a power,
+      Mine to bestow, which heals the ills of living;
+    To overcome by love, to live by prayer,
+      To conquer man's worst evils by forgiving."
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The May Flower, and Miscellaneous
+Writings, by Harriet Beecher Stowe
+
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+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The May Flower, and Miscellaneous Writings, by 
+Harriet Beecher Stowe
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The May Flower, and Miscellaneous Writings
+
+Author: Harriet Beecher Stowe
+
+Release Date: February 25, 2010 [EBook #31390]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAY FLOWER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Mary Meehan and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+book was produced from scanned images of public domain
+material from the Google Print project.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+<h1>The May Flower</h1>
+
+<h3>and</h3>
+
+<h2>Miscellaneous Writings</h2>
+
+<h2>By Harriet Beecher Stowe</h2>
+
+<h3>AUTHOR OF "UNCLE TOM'S CABIN," "SUNNY MEMORIES OF FOREIGN LANDS," ETC.</h3>
+
+
+<h4>BOSTON:<br />
+PHILLIPS, SAMPSON, AND COMPANY,<br />
+13 WINTER STREET<br />
+1855.</h4>
+
+<h4>Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by<br />
+PHILLIPS, SAMPSON, AND COMPANY,<br />
+In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.</h4>
+
+<h4>STEREOTYPED AT THE<br />
+BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY.</h4>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/front.jpg" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h3>Truly Yours, H B Stowe</h3>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>INTRODUCTION.</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Mr. G. B. Emerson</span>, in his late report to the legislature of
+Massachusetts on the trees and shrubs of that state, thus describes
+<span class="smcap">The May Flower.</span></p>
+
+<p>"Often from beneath the edge of a snow bank are seen rising the
+fragrant, pearly-white or rose-colored flowers of this earliest
+harbinger of spring.</p>
+
+<p>"It abounds in the edges of the woods about Plymouth, as elsewhere, and
+must have been the first flower to salute the storm-beaten crew of the
+Mayflower on the conclusion of their first terrible winter. Their
+descendants have thence piously derived the name, although its bloom is
+often passed before the coming in of May."</p>
+
+<p>No flower could be more appropriately selected as an emblem token by the
+descendants of the Puritans. Though so fragrant and graceful, it is
+invariably the product of the hardest and most rocky soils, and seems to
+draw its ethereal beauty of color and wealth of perfume rather from the
+air than from the slight hold which its rootlets take of the earth. It
+may often be found in fullest beauty matting a granite lodge, with
+scarcely any perceptible soil for its support.</p>
+
+<p>What better emblem of that faith, and hope, and piety, by which our
+fathers were supported in dreary and barren enterprises, and which drew
+their life and fragrance from heaven more than earth?</p>
+
+<p>The May Flower was, therefore, many years since selected by the author
+as the title of a series of New England sketches. That work had
+comparatively a limited circulation, and is now entirely out of print.
+Its articles are republished in the present volume, with other
+miscellaneous writings, which have from time to time appeared in
+different periodicals. They have been written in all moods, from the
+gayest to the gravest&mdash;they are connected, in many cases, with the
+memory of friends and scenes most dear.</p>
+
+<p>There are those now scattered through the world who will remember the
+social literary parties of Cincinnati, for whose genial meetings many of
+these articles were prepared. With most affectionate remembrances, the
+author dedicates the book to the yet surviving members of The Semicolon.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Andover</span>, <i>April, 1855</i>.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CONTENTS.</h2>
+
+<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. -->
+<p>
+<a href="#UNCLE_LOT">UNCLE LOT.</a><br />
+<a href="#LOVE_versus_LAW">LOVE <i>versus</i> LAW.</a><br />
+<a href="#THE_TEA_ROSE">THE TEA ROSE.</a><br />
+<a href="#TRIALS_OF_A_HOUSEKEEPER">TRIALS OF A HOUSEKEEPER.</a><br />
+<a href="#LITTLE_EDWARD">LITTLE EDWARD.</a><br />
+<a href="#AUNT_MARY">AUNT MARY.</a><br />
+<a href="#FRANKNESS">FRANKNESS.</a><br />
+<a href="#THE_SABBATH">THE SABBATH.&mdash;SKETCHES FROM A NOTE BOOK OF AN ELDERLY GENTLEMAN</a><br />
+<a href="#LET_EVERY_MAN_MIND_HIS_OWN_BUSINESS">LET EVERY MAN MIND HIS OWN BUSINESS.</a><br />
+<a href="#COUSIN_WILLIAM">COUSIN WILLIAM.</a><br />
+<a href="#THE_MINISTRATION_OF_OUR_DEPARTED_FRIENDS">THE MINISTRATION OF OUR DEPARTED FRIENDS.&mdash;A NEW YEAR'S REVERY</a><br />
+<a href="#MRS_A_AND_MRS_B">MRS. A. AND MRS. B.; OR, WHAT SHE THINKS ABOUT IT</a><br />
+<a href="#CHRISTMAS_OR_THE_GOOD_FAIRY">CHRISTMAS; OR, THE GOOD FAIRY.</a><br />
+<a href="#EARTHLY_CARE_A_HEAVENLY_DISCIPLINE">EARTHLY CARE A HEAVENLY DISCIPLINE.</a><br />
+<a href="#CONVERSATION_ON_CONVERSATION">CONVERSATION ON CONVERSATION.</a><br />
+<a href="#HOW_DO_WE_KNOW">HOW DO WE KNOW?</a><br />
+<a href="#WHICH_IS_THE_LIBERAL_MAN">WHICH IS THE LIBERAL MAN?</a><br />
+<a href="#THE_ELDERS_FEAST">THE ELDER'S FEAST.&mdash;A TRADITION OF LAODICEA</a><br />
+<a href="#LITTLE_FRED_THE_CANAL_BOY">LITTLE FRED, THE CANAL BOY.</a><br />
+<a href="#THE_CANAL_BOAT">THE CANAL BOAT.</a><br />
+<a href="#FEELING">FEELING.</a><br />
+<a href="#THE_SEAMSTRESS">THE SEAMSTRESS.</a><br />
+<a href="#OLD_FATHER_MORRIS">OLD FATHER MORRIS.&mdash;A SKETCH FROM NATURE</a><br />
+<a href="#THE_TWO_ALTARS">THE TWO ALTARS, OR TWO PICTURES IN ONE</a><br />
+<a href="#A_SCHOLARS_ADVENTURES_IN_THE_COUNTRY">A SCHOLAR'S ADVENTURES IN THE COUNTRY.</a><br />
+<a href="#WOMAN_BEHOLD_THY_SON">"WOMAN, BEHOLD THY SON!"</a><br />
+<a href="#THE_CORAL_RING">THE CORAL RING.</a><br />
+<a href="#ART_AND_NATURE">ART AND NATURE.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHILDREN">CHILDREN.</a><br />
+<a href="#HOW_TO_MAKE_FRIENDS_WITH_MAMMON">HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS WITH MAMMON.</a><br />
+<a href="#A_SCENE_IN_JERUSALEM">A SCENE IN JERUSALEM.</a><br />
+<a href="#THE_OLD_MEETING_HOUSE">THE OLD MEETING HOUSE.&mdash;SKETCH FROM THE NOTE BOOK OF AN OLD GENTLEMAN</a><br />
+<a href="#THE_NEW-YEARS_GIFT">THE NEW-YEAR'S GIFT.</a><br />
+<a href="#THE_OLD_OAK_OF_ANDOVER">THE OLD OAK OF ANDOVER.&mdash;A REVERY</a><br />
+<a href="#OUR_WOOD_LOT_IN_WINTER">OUR WOOD LOT IN WINTER.</a><br />
+<a href="#POEMS">POEMS.</a><br />
+<a href="#THE_CHARMER">THE_CHARMER</a><br />
+<a href="#PILGRIMS_SONG_IN_THE_DESERT">PILGRIM'S SONG IN THE DESERT.</a><br />
+<a href="#MARY_AT_THE_CROSS">MARY AT THE CROSS.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHRISTIAN_PEACE">CHRISTIAN PEACE.</a><br />
+<a href="#ABIDE_IN_ME_AND_I_IN_YOU">ABIDE IN ME AND I IN YOU.&mdash;THE SOUL'S ANSWER</a><br />
+<a href="#WHEN_I_AWAKE_I_AM_STILL_WITH_THEE">WHEN I AWAKE I AM STILL WITH THEE.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHRISTS_VOICE_IN_THE_SOUL">CHRIST'S VOICE IN THE SOUL.</a><br />
+</p>
+<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. -->
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE MAY FLOWER.</h2>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="UNCLE_LOT" id="UNCLE_LOT"></a>UNCLE LOT.</h2>
+
+
+<p>And so I am to write a story&mdash;but of what, and where? Shall it be
+radiant with the sky of Italy? or eloquent with the beau ideal of
+Greece? Shall it breathe odor and languor from the orient, or chivalry
+from the occident? or gayety from France? or vigor from England? No, no;
+these are all too old&mdash;too romance-like&mdash;too obviously picturesque for
+me. No; let me turn to my own land&mdash;my own New England; the land of
+bright fires and strong hearts; the land of <i>deeds</i>, and not of words;
+the land of fruits, and not of flowers; the land often spoken against,
+yet always respected; "the latchet of whose shoes the nations of the
+earth are not worthy to unloose."</p>
+
+<p>Now, from this very heroic apostrophe, you may suppose that I have
+something very heroic to tell. By no means. It is merely a little
+introductory breeze of patriotism, such as occasionally brushes over
+every mind, bearing on its wings the remembrance of all we ever loved or
+cherished in the land of our early years; and if it should seem to be
+rodomontade to any people in other parts of the earth, let them only
+imagine it to be said about "Old Kentuck," old England, or any other
+corner of the world in which they happened to be born, and they will
+find it quite rational.</p>
+
+<p>But, as touching our story, it is time to begin. Did you ever see the
+little village of Newbury, in New England? I dare say you never did; for
+it was just one of those out of the way places where nobody ever came
+unless they came on purpose: a green little hollow, wedged like a bird's
+nest between half a dozen high hills, that kept off the wind and kept
+out foreigners; so that the little place was as straitly <i>sui generis</i>
+as if there were not another in the world. The inhabitants were all of
+that respectable old standfast family who make it a point to be born,
+bred, married, die, and be buried all in the selfsame spot. There were
+just so many houses, and just so many people lived in them; and nobody
+ever seemed to be sick, or to die either, at least while I was there.
+The natives grew old till they could not grow any older, and then they
+stood still, and <i>lasted</i> from generation to generation. There was, too,
+an unchangeability about all the externals of Newbury. Here was a red
+house, and there was a brown house, and across the way was a yellow
+house; and there was a straggling rail fence or a tribe of mullein
+stalks between. The minister lived here, and 'Squire Moses lived there,
+and Deacon Hart lived under the hill, and Messrs. Nadab and Abihu Peters
+lived by the cross road, and the old "widder" Smith lived by the meeting
+house, and Ebenezer Camp kept a shoemaker's shop on one side, and
+Patience Mosely kept a milliner's shop in front; and there was old
+Comfort Scran, who kept store for the whole town, and sold axe heads,
+brass thimbles, licorice ball, fancy handkerchiefs, and every thing else
+you can think of. Here, too, was the general post office, where you
+might see letters marvellously folded, directed wrong side upward,
+stamped with a thimble, and superscribed to some of the Dollys, or
+Pollys, or Peters, or Moseses aforenamed or not named.</p>
+
+<p>For the rest, as to manners, morals, arts, and sciences, the people in
+Newbury always went to their parties at three o'clock in the afternoon,
+and came home before dark; always stopped all work the minute the sun
+was down on Saturday night; always went to meeting on Sunday; had a
+school house with all the ordinary inconveniences; were in neighborly
+charity with each other; read their Bibles, feared their God, and were
+content with such things as they had&mdash;the best philosophy, after all.
+Such was the place into which Master James Benton made an irruption in
+the year eighteen hundred and no matter what. Now, this James is to be
+our hero, and he is just the hero for a sensation&mdash;at least, so you
+would have thought, if you had been in Newbury the week after his
+arrival. Master James was one of those whole-hearted, energetic Yankees,
+who rise in the world as naturally as cork does in water. He possessed a
+great share of that characteristic national trait so happily denominated
+"cuteness," which signifies an ability to do every thing without trying,
+and to know every thing without learning, and to make more use of one's
+<i>ignorance</i> than other people do of their knowledge. This quality in
+James was mingled with an elasticity of animal spirits, a buoyant
+cheerfulness of mind, which, though found in the New England character,
+perhaps, as often as any where else, is not ordinarily regarded as one
+of its distinguishing traits.</p>
+
+<p>As to the personal appearance of our hero, we have not much to say of
+it&mdash;not half so much as the girls in Newbury found it necessary to
+remark, the first Sabbath that he shone out in the meeting house. There
+was a saucy frankness of countenance, a knowing roguery of eye, a
+joviality and prankishness of demeanor, that was wonderfully
+captivating, especially to the ladies.</p>
+
+<p>It is true that Master James had an uncommonly comfortable opinion of
+himself, a full faith that there was nothing in creation that he could
+not learn and could not do; and this faith was maintained with an
+abounding and triumphant joyfulness, that fairly carried your sympathies
+along with him, and made you feel quite as much delighted with his
+qualifications and prospects as he felt himself. There are two kinds of
+self-sufficiency; one is amusing, and the other is provoking. His was
+the amusing kind. It seemed, in truth, to be only the buoyancy and
+overflow of a vivacious mind, delighted with every thing delightful, in
+himself or others. He was always ready to magnify his own praise, but
+quite as ready to exalt his neighbor, if the channel of discourse ran
+that way: his own perfections being more completely within his
+knowledge, he rejoiced in them more constantly; but, if those of any one
+else came within the same range, he was quite as much astonished and
+edified as if they had been his own.</p>
+
+<p>Master James, at the time of his transit to the town of Newbury, was
+only eighteen years of age; so that it was difficult to say which
+predominated in him most, the boy or the man. The belief that he could,
+and the determination that he would, be something in the world had
+caused him to abandon his home, and, with all his worldly effects tied
+in a blue cotton pocket handkerchief, to proceed to seek his fortune in
+Newbury. And never did stranger in Yankee village rise to promotion with
+more unparalleled rapidity, or boast a greater plurality of employment.
+He figured as schoolmaster all the week, and as chorister on Sundays,
+and taught singing and reading in the evenings, besides studying Latin
+and Greek with the minister, nobody knew when; thus fitting for college,
+while he seemed to be doing every thing else in the world besides.</p>
+
+<p>James understood every art and craft of popularity, and made himself
+mightily at home in all the chimney corners of the region round about;
+knew the geography of every body's cider barrel and apple bin, helping
+himself and every one else therefrom with all bountifulness; rejoicing
+in the good things of this life, devouring the old ladies' doughnuts and
+pumpkin pies with most flattering appetite, and appearing equally to
+relish every body and thing that came in his way.</p>
+
+<p>The degree and versatility of his acquirements were truly wonderful. He
+knew all about arithmetic and history, and all about catching squirrels
+and planting corn; made poetry and hoe handles with equal celerity;
+wound yarn and took out grease spots for old ladies, and made nosegays
+and knickknacks for young ones; caught trout Saturday afternoons, and
+discussed doctrines on Sundays, with equal adroitness and effect. In
+short, Mr. James moved on through the place</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">"Victorious,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Happy and glorious,"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>welcomed and privileged by every body in every place; and when he had
+told his last ghost story, and fairly flourished himself out of doors at
+the close of a long winter's evening, you might see the hard face of the
+good man of the house still phosphorescent with his departing radiance,
+and hear him exclaim, in a paroxysm of admiration, that "Jemeses talk
+re'ely did beat all; that he was sartainly most a miraculous cre'tur!"</p>
+
+<p>It was wonderfully contrary to the buoyant activity of Master James's
+mind to keep a school. He had, moreover, so much of the boy and the
+rogue in his composition, that he could not be strict with the
+iniquities of the curly pates under his charge; and when he saw how
+determinately every little heart was boiling over with mischief and
+motion, he felt in his soul more disposed to join in and help them to a
+frolic than to lay justice to the line, as was meet. This would have
+made a sad case, had it not been that the activity of the master's mind
+communicated itself to his charge, just as the reaction of one brisk
+little spring will fill a manufactory with motion; so that there was
+more of an impulse towards study in the golden, good-natured day of
+James Benton than in the time of all that went before or came after him.</p>
+
+<p>But when "school was out," James's spirits foamed over as naturally as a
+tumbler of soda water, and he could jump over benches and burst out of
+doors with as much rapture as the veriest little elf in his company.
+Then you might have seen him stepping homeward with a most felicitous
+expression of countenance, occasionally reaching his hand through the
+fence for a bunch of currants, or over it after a flower, or bursting
+into some back yard to help an old lady empty her wash tub, or stopping
+to pay his <i>devoirs</i> to Aunt This or Mistress That, for James well knew
+the importance of the "powers that be," and always kept the sunny side
+of the old ladies.</p>
+
+<p>We shall not answer for James's general flirtations, which were sundry
+and manifold; for he had just the kindly heart that fell in love with
+every thing in feminine shape that came in his way, and if he had not
+been blessed with an equal facility in falling out again, we do not know
+what ever would have become of him. But at length he came into an
+abiding captivity, and it is quite time that he should; for, having
+devoted thus much space to the illustration of our hero, it is fit we
+should do something in behalf of our heroine; and, therefore, we must
+beg the reader's attention while we draw a diagram or two that will
+assist him in gaining a right idea of her.</p>
+
+<p>Do you see yonder brown house, with its broad roof sloping almost to the
+ground on one side, and a great, unsupported, sun bonnet of a piazza
+shooting out over the front door? You must often have noticed it; you
+have seen its tall well sweep, relieved against the clear evening sky,
+or observed the feather beds and bolsters lounging out of its chamber
+windows on a still summer morning; you recollect its gate, that swung
+with a chain and a great stone; its pantry window, latticed with little
+brown slabs, and looking out upon a forest of bean poles. You remember
+the zephyrs that used to play among its pea brush, and shake the long
+tassels of its corn patch, and how vainly any zephyr might essay to
+perform similar flirtations with the considerate cabbages that were
+solemnly vegetating near by. Then there was the whole neighborhood of
+purple-leaved beets and feathery parsnips; there were the billows of
+gooseberry bushes rolled up by the fence, interspersed with rows of
+quince trees; and far off in one corner was one little patch,
+penuriously devoted to ornament, which flamed with marigolds, poppies,
+snappers, and four-o'clocks. Then there was a little box by itself with
+one rose geranium in it, which seemed to look around the garden as much
+like a stranger as a French dancing master in a Yankee meeting house.</p>
+
+<p>That is the dwelling of Uncle Lot Griswold. Uncle Lot, as he was
+commonly called, had a character that a painter would sketch for its
+lights and contrasts rather than its symmetry. He was a chestnut burr,
+abounding with briers without and with substantial goodness within. He
+had the strong-grained practical sense, the calculating worldly wisdom
+of his class of people in New England; he had, too, a kindly heart; but
+all the strata of his character were crossed by a vein of surly
+petulance, that, half way between joke and earnest, colored every thing
+that he said and did.</p>
+
+<p>If you asked a favor of Uncle Lot, he generally kept you arguing half an
+hour, to prove that you really needed it, and to tell you that he could
+not all the while be troubled with helping one body or another, all
+which time you might observe him regularly making his preparations to
+grant your request, and see, by an odd glimmer of his eye, that he was
+preparing to let you hear the "conclusion of the whole matter," which
+was, "Well, well&mdash;I guess&mdash;I'll go, on the <i>hull</i>&mdash;I 'spose I must, at
+least;" so off he would go and work while the day lasted, and then wind
+up with a farewell exhortation "not to be a callin' on your neighbors
+when you could get along without." If any of Uncle Lot's neighbors were
+in any trouble, he was always at hand to tell them that "they shouldn't
+a' done so;" that "it was strange they couldn't had more sense;" and
+then to close his exhortations by laboring more diligently than any to
+bring them out of their difficulties, groaning in spirit, meanwhile,
+that folks would make people so much trouble.</p>
+
+<p>"Uncle Lot, father wants to know if you will lend him your hoe to-day,"
+says a little boy, making his way across a cornfield.</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't your father use his own hoe?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ours is broke."</p>
+
+<p>"Broke! How came it broke?"</p>
+
+<p>"I broke it yesterday, trying to hit a squirrel."</p>
+
+<p>"What business had you to be hittin' squirrels with a hoe? say!"</p>
+
+<p>"But father wants to borrow yours."</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't you have that mended? It's a great pester to have every body
+usin' a body's things."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I can borrow one some where else, I suppose," says the suppliant.
+After the boy has stumbled across the ploughed ground, and is fairly
+over the fence, Uncle Lot calls,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Halloo, there, you little rascal! what are you goin' off without the
+hoe for?"</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't know as you meant to lend it."</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't say I wouldn't, did I? Here, come and take it.&mdash;stay, I'll
+bring it; and do tell your father not to be a lettin' you hunt squirrels
+with his hoes next time."</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Lot's household consisted of Aunt Sally, his wife, and an only son
+and daughter; the former, at the time our story begins, was at a
+neighboring literary institution. Aunt Sally was precisely as clever, as
+easy to be entreated, and kindly in externals, as her helpmate was the
+reverse. She was one of those respectable, pleasant old ladies whom you
+might often have met on the way to church on a Sunday, equipped with a
+great fan and a psalm book, and carrying some dried orange peel or a
+stalk of fennel, to give to the children if they were sleepy in meeting.
+She was as cheerful and domestic as the tea kettle that sung by her
+kitchen fire, and slipped along among Uncle Lot's angles and
+peculiarities as if there never was any thing the matter in the world;
+and the same mantle of sunshine seemed to have fallen on Miss Grace, her
+only daughter.</p>
+
+<p>Pretty in her person and pleasant in her ways, endowed with native
+self-possession and address, lively and chatty, having a mind and a will
+of her own, yet good-humored withal, Miss Grace was a universal
+favorite. It would have puzzled a city lady to understand how Grace, who
+never was out of Newbury in her life, knew the way to speak, and act,
+and behave, on all occasions, exactly as if she had been taught how. She
+was just one of those wild flowers which you may sometimes see waving
+its little head in the woods, and looking so civilized and garden-like,
+that you wonder if it really did come up and grow there by nature. She
+was an adept in all household concerns, and there was something
+amazingly pretty in her energetic way of bustling about, and "putting
+things to rights." Like most Yankee damsels, she had a longing after the
+tree of knowledge, and, having exhausted the literary fountains of a
+district school, she fell to reading whatsoever came in her way. True,
+she had but little to read; but what she perused she had her own
+thoughts upon, so that a person of information, in talking with her,
+would feel a constant wondering pleasure to find that she had so much
+more to say of this, that, and the other thing than he expected.</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Lot, like every one else, felt the magical brightness of his
+daughter, and was delighted with her praises, as might be discerned by
+his often finding occasion to remark that "he didn't see why the boys
+need to be all the time a' comin' to see Grace, for she was nothing so
+extror'nary, after all." About all matters and things at home she
+generally had her own way, while Uncle Lot would scold and give up with
+a regular good grace that was quite creditable.</p>
+
+<p>"Father," says Grace, "I want to have a party next week."</p>
+
+<p>"You sha'n't go to havin' your parties, Grace. I always have to eat bits
+and ends a fortnight after you have one, and I won't have it so." And so
+Uncle Lot walked out, and Aunt Sally and Miss Grace proceeded to make
+the cake and pies for the party.</p>
+
+<p>When Uncle Lot came home, he saw a long array of pies and rows of cakes
+on the kitchen table.</p>
+
+<p>"Grace&mdash;Grace&mdash;Grace, I say! What is all this here flummery for?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, it is <i>to eat</i>, father," said Grace, with a good-natured look of
+consciousness.</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Lot tried his best to look sour; but his visage began to wax
+comical as he looked at his merry daughter; so he said nothing, but
+quietly sat down to his dinner.</p>
+
+<p>"Father," said Grace, after dinner, "we shall want two more candlesticks
+next week."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, can't you have your party with what you've got?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, father, we want two more."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't afford it, Grace&mdash;there's no sort of use on't&mdash;and you sha'n't
+have any."</p>
+
+<p>"O, father, now do," said Grace.</p>
+
+<p>"I won't, neither," said Uncle Lot, as he sallied out of the house, and
+took the road to Comfort Scran's store.</p>
+
+<p>In half an hour he returned again; and fumbling in his pocket, and
+drawing forth a candlestick, levelled it at Grace.</p>
+
+<p>"There's your candlestick."</p>
+
+<p>"But, father, I said I wanted <i>two</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, can't you make one do?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I can't; I must have two."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, there's t'other; and here's a fol-de-rol for you to tie
+round your neck." So saying, he bolted for the door, and took himself
+off with all speed. It was much after this fashion that matters commonly
+went on in the brown house.</p>
+
+<p>But having tarried long on the way, we must proceed with the main story.</p>
+
+<p>James thought Miss Grace was a glorious girl; and as to what Miss Grace
+thought of Master James, perhaps it would not have been developed had
+she not been called to stand on the defensive for him with Uncle Lot.
+For, from the time that the whole village of Newbury began to be wholly
+given unto the praise of Master James, Uncle Lot set his face as a flint
+against him&mdash;from the laudable fear of following the multitude. He
+therefore made conscience of stoutly gainsaying every thing that was
+said in his behalf, which, as James was in high favor with Aunt Sally,
+he had frequent opportunities to do.</p>
+
+<p>So when Miss Grace perceived that Uncle Lot did not like our hero as
+much as he ought to do, she, of course, was bound to like him well
+enough to make up for it. Certain it is that they were remarkably happy
+in finding opportunities of being acquainted; that James waited on her,
+as a matter of course, from singing school; that he volunteered making a
+new box for her geranium on an improved plan; and above all, that he was
+remarkably particular in his attentions to Aunt Sally&mdash;a stroke of
+policy which showed that James had a natural genius for this sort of
+matters. Even when emerging from the meeting house in full glory, with
+flute and psalm book under his arm, he would stop to ask her how she
+did; and if it was cold weather, he would carry her foot stove all the
+way home from meeting, discoursing upon the sermon, and other serious
+matters, as Aunt Sally observed, "in the pleasantest, prettiest way that
+ever ye see." This flute was one of the crying sins of James in the eyes
+of Uncle Lot. James was particularly fond of it, because he had learned
+to play on it by intuition; and on the decease of the old pitchpipe,
+which was slain by a fall from the gallery, he took the liberty to
+introduce the flute in its place. For this, and other sins, and for the
+good reasons above named, Uncle Lot's countenance was not towards James,
+neither could he be moved to him-ward by any manner of means.</p>
+
+<p>To all Aunt Sally's good words and kind speeches, he had only to say
+that "he didn't like him; that he hated to see him a' manifesting and
+glorifying there in the front gallery Sundays, and a' acting every where
+as if he was master of all: he didn't like it, and he wouldn't." But our
+hero was no whit cast down or discomfited by the malcontent aspect of
+Uncle Lot. On the contrary, when report was made to him of divers of his
+hard speeches, he only shrugged his shoulders, with a very satisfied
+air, and remarked that "he knew a thing or two for all that."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, James," said his companion and chief counsellor, "do you think
+Grace likes you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," said our hero, with a comfortable appearance of
+certainty.</p>
+
+<p>"But you can't get her, James, if Uncle Lot is cross about it."</p>
+
+<p>"Fudge! I can make Uncle Lot like me if I have a mind to try."</p>
+
+<p>"Well then, Jim, you'll have to give up that flute of yours, I tell you
+now."</p>
+
+<p>"Fa, sol, la&mdash;I can make him like me and my flute too."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, how will you do it?"</p>
+
+<p>"O, I'll work it," said our hero.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Jim, I tell you now, you don't know Uncle Lot if you say so; for
+he is just the <i>settest</i> critter in his way that ever you saw."</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>do</i> know Uncle Lot, though, better than most folks; he is no more
+cross than I am; and as to his being <i>set</i>, you have nothing to do but
+make him think he is in his own way when he is in yours&mdash;that is all."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said the other, "but you see I don't believe it."</p>
+
+<p>"And I'll bet you a gray squirrel that I'll go there this very evening,
+and get him to like me and my flute both," said James.</p>
+
+<p>Accordingly the late sunshine of that afternoon shone full on the yellow
+buttons of James as he proceeded to the place of conflict. It was a
+bright, beautiful evening. A thunder storm had just cleared away, and
+the silver clouds lay rolled up in masses around the setting sun; the
+rain drops were sparkling and winking to each other over the ends of the
+leaves, and all the bluebirds and robins, breaking forth into song, made
+the little green valley as merry as a musical box.</p>
+
+<p>James's soul was always overflowing with that kind of poetry which
+consists in feeling unspeakably happy; and it is not to be wondered at,
+considering where he was going, that he should feel in a double ecstasy
+on the present occasion. He stepped gayly along, occasionally springing
+over a fence to the right to see whether the rain had swollen the trout
+brook, or to the left to notice the ripening of Mr. Somebody's
+watermelons&mdash;for James always had an eye on all his neighbors' matters
+as well as his own.</p>
+
+<p>In this way he proceeded till he arrived at the picket fence that marked
+the commencement of Uncle Lot's ground. Here he stopped to consider.
+Just then four or five sheep walked up, and began also to consider a
+loose picket, which was hanging just ready to drop off; and James began
+to look at the sheep. "Well, mister," said he, as he observed the leader
+judiciously drawing himself through the gap, "in with you&mdash;just what I
+wanted;" and having waited a moment to ascertain that all the company
+were likely to follow, he ran with all haste towards the house, and
+swinging open the gate, pressed all breathless to the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Uncle Lot, there are four or five sheep in your garden!" Uncle Lot
+dropped his whetstone and scythe.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll drive them out," said our hero; and with that, he ran down the
+garden alley, and made a furious descent on the enemy; bestirring
+himself, as Bunyan says, "lustily and with good courage," till every
+sheep had skipped out much quicker than it skipped in; and then,
+springing over the fence, he seized a great stone, and nailed on the
+picket so effectually that no sheep could possibly encourage the hope of
+getting in again. This was all the work of a minute, and he was back
+again; but so exceedingly out of breath that it was necessary for him to
+stop a moment and rest himself. Uncle Lot looked ungraciously satisfied.</p>
+
+<p>"What under the canopy set you to scampering so?" said he; "I could a'
+driv out them critturs myself."</p>
+
+<p>"If you are at all particular about driving them out <i>yourself</i>, I can
+let them in again," said James.</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Lot looked at him with an odd sort of twinkle in the corner of his
+eye.</p>
+
+<p>"'Spose I must ask you to walk in," said he.</p>
+
+<p>"Much obliged," said James; "but I am in a great hurry." So saying, he
+started in very business-like fashion towards the gate.</p>
+
+<p>"You'd better jest stop a minute."</p>
+
+<p>"Can't stay a minute."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see what possesses you to be all the while in sich a hurry; a
+body would think you had all creation on your shoulders."</p>
+
+<p>"Just my situation, Uncle Lot," said James, swinging open the gate.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, at any rate, have a drink of cider, can't ye?" said Uncle Lot,
+who was now quite engaged to have his own way in the case.</p>
+
+<p>James found it convenient to accept this invitation, and Uncle Lot was
+twice as good-natured as if he had staid in the first of the matter.</p>
+
+<p>Once fairly forced into the premises, James thought fit to forget his
+long walk and excess of business, especially as about that moment Aunt
+Sally and Miss Grace returned from an afternoon call. You may be sure
+that the last thing these respectable ladies looked for was to find
+Uncle Lot and Master James <i>tête-à-tête</i>, over a pitcher of cider; and
+when, as they entered, our hero looked up with something of a
+mischievous air, Miss Grace, in particular, was so puzzled that it took
+her at least a quarter of an hour to untie her bonnet strings. But James
+staid, and acted the agreeable to perfection. First, he must needs go
+down into the garden to look at Uncle Lot's wonderful cabbages, and then
+he promenaded all around the corn patch, stopping every few moments and
+looking up with an appearance of great gratification, as if he had never
+seen such corn in his life; and then he examined Uncle Lot's favorite
+apple tree with an expression of wonderful interest.</p>
+
+<p>"I never!" he broke forth, having stationed himself against the fence
+opposite to it; "what kind of an apple tree is that?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's a bellflower, or somethin' another," said Uncle Lot.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, where <i>did</i> you get it? I never saw such apples!" said our hero,
+with his eyes still fixed on the tree.</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Lot pulled up a stalk or two of weeds, and threw them over the
+fence, just to show that he did not care any thing about the matter; and
+then he came up and stood by James.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothin' so remarkable, as I know on," said he.</p>
+
+<p>Just then, Grace came to say that supper was ready. Once seated at
+table, it was astonishing to see the perfect and smiling assurance with
+which our hero continued his addresses to Uncle Lot. It sometimes goes a
+great way towards making people like us to take it for granted that they
+do already; and upon this principle James proceeded. He talked, laughed,
+told stories, and joked with the most fearless assurance, occasionally
+seconding his words by looking Uncle Lot in the face, with a countenance
+so full of good will as would have melted any snowdrift of prejudices in
+the world.</p>
+
+<p>James also had one natural accomplishment, more courtier-like than all
+the diplomacy in Europe, and that was the gift of feeling a <i>real</i>
+interest for any body in five minutes; so that, if he began to please in
+jest, he generally ended in earnest. With great simplicity of mind, he
+had a natural tact for seeing into others, and watched their motions
+with the same delight with which a child gazes at the wheels and springs
+of a watch, to "see what it will do."</p>
+
+<p>The rough exterior and latent kindness of Uncle Lot were quite a
+spirit-stirring study; and when tea was over, as he and Grace happened
+to be standing together in the front door, he broke forth,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I do really like your father, Grace!"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you?" said Grace.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I do. He has something <i>in him</i>, and I like him all the better for
+having to fish it out."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I hope you will make him like you," said Grace, unconsciously;
+and then she stopped, and looked a little ashamed.</p>
+
+<p>James was too well bred to see this, or look as if Grace meant any more
+than she said&mdash;a kind of breeding not always attendant on more
+fashionable polish&mdash;so he only answered,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I think I shall, Grace, though I doubt whether I can get him to own
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"He is the kindest man that ever was," said Grace; "and he always acts
+as if he was ashamed of it."</p>
+
+<p>James turned a little away, and looked at the bright evening sky, which
+was glowing like a calm, golden sea; and over it was the silver new
+moon, with one little star to hold the candle for her. He shook some
+bright drops off from a rosebush near by, and watched to see them shine
+as they fell, while Grace stood very quietly waiting for him to speak
+again.</p>
+
+<p>"Grace," said he, at last, "I am going to college this fall."</p>
+
+<p>"So you told me yesterday," said Grace.</p>
+
+<p>James stooped down over Grace's geranium, and began to busy himself with
+pulling off all the dead leaves, remarking in the mean while,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"And if I do get <i>him</i> to like me, Grace, will you like me too?"</p>
+
+<p>"I like you now very well," said Grace.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, Grace, you know what I mean," said James, looking steadfastly at
+the top of the apple tree.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I wish, then, you would understand what <i>I</i> mean, without my
+saying any more about it," said Grace.</p>
+
+<p>"O, to be sure I will!" said our hero, looking up with a very
+intelligent air; and so, as Aunt Sally would say, the matter was
+settled, with "no words about it."</p>
+
+<p>Now shall we narrate how our hero, as he saw Uncle Lot approaching the
+door, had the impudence to take out his flute, and put the parts
+together, arranging and adjusting the stops with great composure?</p>
+
+<p>"Uncle Lot," said he, looking up, "this is the best flute that ever I
+saw."</p>
+
+<p>"I hate them tooting critturs," said Uncle Lot, snappishly.</p>
+
+<p>"I declare! I wonder how you can," said James, "for I do think they
+exceed&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>So saying, he put the flute to his mouth, and ran up and down a long
+flourish.</p>
+
+<p>"There! what do you think of that?" said he, looking in Uncle Lot's face
+with much delight.</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Lot turned and marched into the house, but soon faced to the
+right-about, and came out again, for James was fingering "Yankee
+Doodle"&mdash;that appropriate national air for the descendants of the
+Puritans.</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Lot's patriotism began to bestir itself; and now, if it had been
+any thing, as he said, but "that 'are flute"&mdash;as it was, he looked more
+than once at James's fingers.</p>
+
+<p>"How under the sun <i>could</i> you learn to do that?" said he.</p>
+
+<p>"O, it's easy enough," said James, proceeding with another tune; and,
+having played it through, he stopped a moment to examine the joints of
+his flute, and in the mean time addressed Uncle Lot: "You can't think
+how grand this is for pitching tunes&mdash;I always pitch the tunes on Sunday
+with it."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; but I don't think it's a right and fit instrument for the Lord's
+house," said Uncle Lot.</p>
+
+<p>"Why not? It is only a kind of a long pitchpipe, you see," said James;
+"and, seeing the old one is broken, and this will answer, I don't see
+why it is not better than nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, yes, it may be better than nothing," said Uncle Lot; "but, as I
+always tell Grace and my wife, it ain't the right kind of instrument,
+after all; it ain't solemn."</p>
+
+<p>"Solemn!" said James; "that is according as you work it: see here, now."</p>
+
+<p>So saying, he struck up Old Hundred, and proceeded through it with great
+perseverance.</p>
+
+<p>"There, now!" said he.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well, I don't know but it is," said Uncle Lot; "but, as I said at
+first, I don't like the look of it in meetin'."</p>
+
+<p>"But yet you really think it is better than nothing," said James, "for
+you see I couldn't pitch my tunes without it."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe 'tis," said Uncle Lot; "but that isn't sayin' much."</p>
+
+<p>This, however, was enough for Master James, who soon after departed,
+with his flute in his pocket, and Grace's last words in his heart;
+soliloquizing as he shut the gate, "There, now, I hope Aunt Sally won't
+go to praising me; for, just so sure as she does, I shall have it all to
+do over again."</p>
+
+<p>James was right in his apprehension. Uncle Lot could be privately
+converted, but not brought to open confession; and when, the next
+morning, Aunt Sally remarked, in the kindness of her heart,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I always knew you would come to like James," Uncle Lot only
+responded, "Who said I did like him?"</p>
+
+<p>"But I'm sure you <i>seemed</i> to like him last night."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I couldn't turn him out o' doors, could I? I don't think nothin'
+of him but what I always did."</p>
+
+<p>But it was to be remarked that Uncle Lot contented himself at this time
+with the mere general avowal, without running it into particulars, as
+was formerly his wont. It was evident that the ice had begun to melt,
+but it might have been a long time in dissolving, had not collateral
+incidents assisted.</p>
+
+<p>It so happened that, about this time, George Griswold, the only son
+before referred to, returned to his native village, after having
+completed his theological studies at a neighboring institution. It is
+interesting to mark the gradual development of mind and heart, from the
+time that the white-headed, bashful boy quits the country village for
+college, to the period when he returns, a formed and matured man, to
+notice how gradually the rust of early prejudices begins to cleave from
+him&mdash;how his opinions, like his handwriting, pass from the cramped and
+limited forms of a country school into that confirmed and characteristic
+style which is to mark the man for life. In George this change was
+remarkably striking. He was endowed by nature with uncommon acuteness of
+feeling and fondness for reflection&mdash;qualities as likely as any to
+render a child backward and uninteresting in early life.</p>
+
+<p>When he left Newbury for college, he was a taciturn and apparently
+phlegmatic boy, only evincing sensibility by blushing and looking
+particularly stupefied whenever any body spoke to him. Vacation after
+vacation passed, and he returned more and more an altered being; and he
+who once shrunk from the eye of the deacon, and was ready to sink if he
+met the minister, now moved about among the dignitaries of the place
+with all the composure of a superior being.</p>
+
+<p>It was only to be regretted that, while the mind improved, the physical
+energies declined, and that every visit to his home found him paler,
+thinner, and less prepared in body for the sacred profession to which he
+had devoted himself. But now he was returned, a minister&mdash;a real
+minister, with a right to stand in the pulpit and preach; and what a joy
+and glory to Aunt Sally&mdash;and to Uncle Lot, if he were not ashamed to own
+it!</p>
+
+<p>The first Sunday after he came, it was known far and near that George
+Griswold was to preach; and never was a more ready and expectant
+audience.</p>
+
+<p>As the time for reading the first psalm approached, you might see the
+white-headed men turning their faces attentively towards the pulpit; the
+anxious and expectant old women, with their little black bonnets, bent
+forward to see him rise. There were the children looking, because every
+body else looked; there was Uncle Lot in the front pew, his face
+considerately adjusted; there was Aunt Sally, seeming as pleased as a
+mother could seem; and Miss Grace, lifting her sweet face to her
+brother, like a flower to the sun; there was our friend James in the
+front gallery, his joyous countenance a little touched with sobriety and
+expectation; in short, a more embarrassingly attentive audience never
+greeted the first effort of a young minister. Under these circumstances
+there was something touching in the fervent self-forgetfulness which
+characterized the first exercises of the morning&mdash;something which moved
+every one in the house.</p>
+
+<p>The devout poetry of his prayer, rich with the Orientalism of Scripture,
+and eloquent with the expression of strong yet chastened emotion,
+breathed over his audience like music, hushing every one to silence, and
+beguiling every one to feeling. In the sermon, there was the strong
+intellectual nerve, the constant occurrence of argument and statement,
+which distinguishes a New England discourse; but it was touched with
+life by the intense, yet half-subdued, feeling with which he seemed to
+utter it. Like the rays of the sun, it enlightened and melted at the
+same moment.</p>
+
+<p>The strong peculiarities of New England doctrine, involving, as they do,
+all the hidden machinery of mind, all the mystery of its divine
+relations and future progression, and all the tremendous uncertainties
+of its eternal good or ill, seemed to have dwelt in his mind, to have
+burned in his thoughts, to have wrestled with his powers, and they gave
+to his manner the fervency almost of another world; while the exceeding
+paleness of his countenance, and a tremulousness of voice that seemed to
+spring from bodily weakness, touched the strong workings of his mind
+with a pathetic interest, as if the being so early absorbed in another
+world could not be long for this.</p>
+
+<p>When the services were over, the congregation dispersed with the air of
+people who had <i>felt</i> rather than <i>heard</i>; and all the criticism that
+followed was similar to that of old Deacon Hart&mdash;an upright, shrewd
+man&mdash;who, as he lingered a moment at the church door, turned and gazed
+with unwonted feeling at the young preacher.</p>
+
+<p>"He's a blessed cre'tur!" said he, the tears actually making their way
+to his eyes; "I hain't been so near heaven this many a day. He's a
+blessed cre'tur of the Lord; that's my mind about him!"</p>
+
+<p>As for our friend James, he was at first sobered, then deeply moved, and
+at last wholly absorbed by the discourse; and it was only when meeting
+was over that he began to think where he really was.</p>
+
+<p>With all his versatile activity, James had a greater depth of mental
+capacity than he was himself aware of, and he began to feel a sort of
+electric affinity for the mind that had touched him in a way so new; and
+when he saw the mild minister standing at the foot of the pulpit stairs,
+he made directly towards him.</p>
+
+<p>"I do want to hear more from you," said he, with a face full of
+earnestness; "may I walk home with you?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is a long and warm walk," said George, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"O, I don't care for that, if it does not trouble <i>you</i>," said James;
+and leave being gained, you might have seen them slowly passing along
+under the trees, James pouring forth all the floods of inquiry which the
+sudden impulse of his mind had brought out, and supplying his guide with
+more questions and problems for solution than he could have gone through
+with in a month.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot answer all your questions now," said he, as they stopped at
+Uncle Lot's gate.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, when will you?" said James, eagerly. "Let me come home with
+you to-night?"</p>
+
+<p>The minister smiled assent, and James departed so full of new thoughts,
+that he passed Grace without even seeing her. From that time a
+friendship commenced between the two, which was a beautiful illustration
+of the affinities of opposites. It was like a friendship between morning
+and evening&mdash;all freshness and sunshine on one side, and all gentleness
+and peace on the other.</p>
+
+<p>The young minister, worn by long-continued ill health, by the fervency
+of his own feelings, and the gravity of his own reasonings, found
+pleasure in the healthful buoyancy of a youthful, unexhausted mind,
+while James felt himself sobered and made better by the moonlight
+tranquillity of his friend. It is one mark of a superior mind to
+understand and be influenced by the superiority of others; and this was
+the case with James. The ascendency which his new friend acquired over
+him was unlimited, and did more in a month towards consolidating and
+developing his character than all the four years' course of a college.
+Our religious habits are likely always to retain the impression of the
+first seal which stamped them, and in this case it was a peculiarly
+happy one. The calmness, the settled purpose, the mild devotion of his
+friend, formed a just alloy to the energetic and reckless buoyancy of
+James's character, and awakened in him a set of feelings without which
+the most vigorous mind must be incomplete.</p>
+
+<p>The effect of the ministrations of the young pastor, in awakening
+attention to the subjects of his calling in the village, was marked, and
+of a kind which brought pleasure to his own heart. But, like all other
+excitement, it tends to exhaustion, and it was not long before he
+sensibly felt the decline of the powers of life. To the best regulated
+mind there is something bitter in the relinquishment of projects for
+which we have been long and laboriously preparing, and there is
+something far more bitter in crossing the long-cherished expectations of
+friends. All this George felt. He could not bear to look on his mother,
+hanging on his words and following his steps with eyes of almost
+childish delight&mdash;on his singular father, whose whole earthly ambition
+was bound up in his success, and think how soon the "candle of their old
+age" must be put out. When he returned from a successful effort, it was
+painful to see the old man, so evidently delighted, and so anxious to
+conceal his triumph, as he would seat himself in his chair, and begin
+with, "George, that 'are doctrine is rather of a puzzler; but you seem
+to think you've got the run on't. I should re'ly like to know what
+business you have to think you know better than other folks about it;"
+and, though he would cavil most courageously at all George's
+explanations, yet you might perceive, through all, that he was inly
+uplifted to hear how his boy could talk.</p>
+
+<p>If George was engaged in argument with any one else, he would sit by,
+with his head bowed down, looking out from under his shaggy eyebrows
+with a shamefaced satisfaction very unusual with him. Expressions of
+affection from the naturally gentle are not half so touching as those
+which are forced out from the hard-favored and severe; and George was
+affected, even to pain, by the evident pride and regard of his father.</p>
+
+<p>"He never said so much to any body before," thought he, "and what will
+he do if I die?"</p>
+
+<p>In such thoughts as these Grace found her brother engaged one still
+autumn morning, as he stood leaning against the garden fence.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you solemnizing here for, this bright day, brother George?"
+said she, as she bounded down the alley.</p>
+
+<p>The young man turned and looked on her happy face with a sort of
+twilight smile.</p>
+
+<p>"How <i>happy</i> you are, Grace!" said he.</p>
+
+<p>"To be sure I am; and you ought to be too, because you are better."</p>
+
+<p>"I am happy, Grace&mdash;that is, I hope I shall be."</p>
+
+<p>"You are sick, I know you are," said Grace; "you look worn out. O, I
+wish your heart could <i>spring</i> once, as mine does."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not well, dear Grace, and I fear I never shall be," said he,
+turning away, and fixing his eyes on the fading trees opposite.</p>
+
+<p>"O George! dear George, don't, don't say <i>that</i>; you'll break all our
+hearts," said Grace, with tears in her own eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but it is <i>true</i>, sister: I do not feel it on my own account so
+much as&mdash;&mdash;However," he added, "it will all be the same in heaven."</p>
+
+<p>It was but a week after this that a violent cold hastened the progress
+of debility into a confirmed malady. He sunk very fast. Aunt Sally, with
+the self-deceit of a fond and cheerful heart, thought every day that "he
+<i>would</i> be better," and Uncle Lot resisted conviction with all the
+obstinate pertinacity of his character, while the sick man felt that he
+had not the heart to undeceive them.</p>
+
+<p>James was now at the house every day, exhausting all his energy and
+invention in the case of his friend; and any one who had seen him in his
+hours of recklessness and glee, could scarcely recognize him as the
+being whose step was so careful, whose eye so watchful, whose voice and
+touch were so gentle, as he moved around the sick bed. But the same
+quickness which makes a mind buoyant in gladness, often makes it
+gentlest and most sympathetic in sorrow.</p>
+
+<p>It was now nearly morning in the sick room. George had been restless and
+feverish all night; but towards day he fell into a slight slumber, and
+James sat by his side, almost holding his breath lest he should waken
+him. It was yet dusk, but the sky was brightening with a solemn glow,
+and the stars were beginning to disappear; all, save the bright and
+morning one, which, standing alone in the east, looked tenderly through
+the casement, like the eye of our heavenly Father, watching over us when
+all earthly friendships are fading.</p>
+
+<p>George awoke with a placid expression of countenance, and fixing his
+eyes on the brightening sky, murmured faintly,&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The sweet, immortal morning sheds<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Its blushes round the spheres."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>A moment after, a shade passed over his face; he pressed his fingers
+over his eyes, and the tears dropped silently on his pillow.</p>
+
+<p>"George! <i>dear</i> George!" said James, bending over him.</p>
+
+<p>"It's my friends&mdash;it's my father&mdash;my mother," said he, faintly.</p>
+
+<p>"Jesus Christ will watch over them," said James, soothingly.</p>
+
+<p>"O, yes, I know he will; for <i>he</i> loved his own which were in the world;
+he loved them unto the end. But I am dying&mdash;and before I have done any
+good."</p>
+
+<p>"O, do not say so," said James; "think, think what you have done, if
+only for <i>me</i>. God bless you for it! God <i>will</i> bless you for it; it
+will follow you to heaven; it will bring me there. Yes, I will do as you
+have taught me. I will give my life, my soul, my whole strength to it;
+and then you will not have lived in vain."</p>
+
+<p>George smiled, and looked upward; "his face was as that of an angel;"
+and James, in his warmth, continued,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"It is not I alone who can say this; we all bless you; every one in this
+place blesses you; you will be had in everlasting remembrance by some
+hearts here, I know."</p>
+
+<p>"Bless God!" said George.</p>
+
+<p>"We do," said James. "I bless him that I ever knew you; we all bless
+him, and we love you, and shall forever."</p>
+
+<p>The glow that had kindled over the pale face of the invalid again faded
+as he said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"But, James, I must, I ought to tell my father and mother; I ought to,
+and how can I?"</p>
+
+<p>At that moment the door opened, and Uncle Lot made his appearance. He
+seemed struck with the paleness of George's face; and coming to the side
+of the bed, he felt his pulse, and laid his hand anxiously on his
+forehead, and clearing his voice several times, inquired "if he didn't
+feel a little better."</p>
+
+<p>"No, father," said George; then taking his hand, he looked anxiously in
+his face, and seemed to hesitate a moment. "Father," he began, "you know
+that we ought to submit to God."</p>
+
+<p>There was something in his expression at this moment which flashed the
+truth into the old man's mind. He dropped his son's hand with an
+exclamation of agony, and turning quickly, left the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Father! father!" said Grace, trying to rouse him, as he stood with his
+arms folded by the kitchen window.</p>
+
+<p>"Get away, child!" said he, roughly.</p>
+
+<p>"Father, mother says breakfast is ready."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want any breakfast," said he, turning short about. "Sally, what
+are you fixing in that 'ere porringer?"</p>
+
+<p>"O, it's only a little tea for George; 'twill comfort him up, and make
+him feel better, poor fellow."</p>
+
+<p>"You won't make him feel better&mdash;he's gone," said Uncle Lot, hoarsely.</p>
+
+<p>"O, dear heart, no!" said Aunt Sally.</p>
+
+<p>"Be still a' contradicting me; I won't be contradicted all the time by
+nobody. The short of the case is, that George is goin' to <i>die</i> just as
+we've got him ready to be a minister and all; and I wish to pity I was
+in my grave myself, and so&mdash;&mdash;" said Uncle Lot, as he plunged out of the
+door, and shut it after him.</p>
+
+<p>It is well for man that there is one Being who sees the suffering heart
+<i>as it is</i>, and not as it manifests itself through the repellances of
+outward infirmity, and who, perhaps, feels more for the stern and
+wayward than for those whose gentler feelings win for them human
+sympathy. With all his singularities, there was in the heart of Uncle
+Lot a depth of religious sincerity; but there are few characters where
+religion does any thing more than struggle with natural defect, and
+modify what would else be far worse.</p>
+
+<p>In this hour of trial, all the native obstinacy and pertinacity of the
+old man's character rose, and while he felt the necessity of submission,
+it seemed impossible to submit; and thus, reproaching himself,
+struggling in vain to repress the murmurs of nature, repulsing from him
+all external sympathy, his mind was "tempest-tossed, and not comforted."</p>
+
+<p>It was on the still afternoon of the following Sabbath that he was sent
+for, in haste, to the chamber of his son. He entered, and saw that the
+hour was come. The family were all there. Grace and James, side by side,
+bent over the dying one, and his mother sat afar off, with her face hid
+in her apron, "that she might not see the death of the child." The aged
+minister was there, and the Bible lay open before him. The father walked
+to the side of the bed. He stood still, and gazed on the face now
+brightening with "life and immortality." The son lifted up his eyes; he
+saw his father, smiled, and put out his hand. "I am glad <i>you</i> are
+come," said he. "O George, to the pity, don't! <i>don't</i> smile on me so! I
+know what is coming; I have tried, and tried, and I <i>can't</i>, I <i>can't</i>
+have it so;" and his frame shook, and he sobbed audibly. The room was
+still as death; there was none that seemed able to comfort him. At last
+the son repeated, in a sweet, but interrupted voice, those words of
+man's best Friend: "Let not your heart be troubled; in my Father's house
+are many mansions."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; but I <i>can't help</i> being troubled; I suppose the Lord's will must
+be done, but it'll <i>kill</i> me."</p>
+
+<p>"O father, don't, don't break my heart," said the son, much agitated. "I
+shall see you again in heaven, and you shall see me again; and then
+'your heart shall rejoice, and your joy no man taketh from you.'"</p>
+
+<p>"I never shall get to heaven if I feel as I do now," said the old man.
+"I <i>cannot</i> have it so."</p>
+
+<p>The mild face of the sufferer was overcast. "I wish he saw all that <i>I</i>
+do," said he, in a low voice. Then looking towards the minister, he
+articulated, "Pray for us."</p>
+
+<p>They knelt in prayer. It was soothing, as <i>real</i> prayer always must be;
+and when they rose, every one seemed more calm. But the sufferer was
+exhausted; his countenance changed; he looked on his friends; there was
+a faint whisper, "Peace I leave with you"&mdash;and he was in heaven.</p>
+
+<p>We need not dwell on what followed. The seed sown by the righteous often
+blossoms over their grave; and so was it with this good man. The words
+of peace which he spoke unto his friends while he was yet with them came
+into remembrance after he was gone; and though he was laid in the grave
+with many tears, yet it was with softened and submissive hearts.</p>
+
+<p>"The Lord bless him," said Uncle Lot, as he and James were standing,
+last of all, over the grave. "I believe my heart is gone to heaven with
+him; and I think the Lord really <i>did</i> know what was best, after all."</p>
+
+<p>Our friend James seemed now to become the support of the family; and the
+bereaved old man unconsciously began to transfer to him the affections
+that had been left vacant.</p>
+
+<p>"James," said he to him one day, "I suppose you know that you are about
+the same to me as a son."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope so," said James, kindly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well, you'll go to college next week, and none o' y'r keepin'
+school to get along. I've got enough to bring you safe out&mdash;that is, if
+you'll be <i>car'ful</i> and <i>stiddy</i>."</p>
+
+<p>James knew the heart too well to refuse a favor in which the poor old
+man's mind was comforting itself. He had the self-command to abstain
+from any extraordinary expressions of gratitude, but took it kindly, as
+a matter of course.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Grace," said he to her, the last evening before he left home, "I
+am changed; we both are altered since we first knew each other; and now
+I am going to be gone a long time, but I am sure&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He stopped to arrange his thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you may be sure of all those things that you wish to say, and
+cannot," said Grace.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," said James; then, looking thoughtfully, he added, "God help
+me. I believe I have mind enough to be what I mean to; but whatever I am
+or have shall be given to God and my fellow-men; and then, Grace, your
+brother in heaven will rejoice over me."</p>
+
+<p>"I believe he does <i>now</i>," said Grace. "God bless you, James; I don't
+know what would have become of us if you had not been here."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you will live to be like him, and to do even more good," she
+added, her face brightening as she spoke, till James thought she really
+must be right.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>It was five years after this that James was spoken of as an eloquent and
+successful minister in the state of C., and was settled in one of its
+most thriving villages. Late one autumn evening, a tall, bony,
+hard-favored man was observed making his way into the outskirts of the
+place.</p>
+
+<p>"Halloa, there!" he called to a man over the other side of a fence;
+"what town is this 'ere?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's Farmington, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I want to know if you know any thing of a boy of mine that lives
+here?"</p>
+
+<p>"A boy of yours? Who?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I've got a boy here, that's livin' <i>on the town</i>, and I thought
+I'd jest look him up."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know any boy that is living on the town. What's his name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why," said the old man, pushing his hat off from his forehead, "I
+believe they call him James Benton."</p>
+
+<p>"James Benton! Why, that is our minister's name!"</p>
+
+<p>"O, wal, I believe he <i>is</i> the minister, come to think on't. He's a boy
+o' mine, though. Where does he live?"</p>
+
+<p>"In that white house that you see set back from the road there, with all
+those trees round it."</p>
+
+<p>At this instant a tall, manly-looking person approached from behind.
+Have we not seen that face before? It is a touch graver than of old, and
+its lines have a more thoughtful significance; but all the vivacity of
+James Benton sparkles in that quick smile as his eye falls on the old
+man.</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>thought</i> you could not keep away from us long," said he, with the
+prompt cheerfulness of his boyhood, and laying hold of both of Uncle
+Lot's hard hands.</p>
+
+<p>They approached the gate; a bright face glances past the window, and in
+a moment Grace is at the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Father! <i>dear</i> father!"</p>
+
+<p>"You'd <i>better</i> make believe be so glad," said Uncle Lot, his eyes
+glistening as he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, come, father, I have authority in these days," said Grace,
+drawing him towards the house; "so no disrespectful speeches; away with
+your hat and coat, and sit down in this great chair."</p>
+
+<p>"So, ho! Miss Grace," said Uncle Lot, "you are at your old tricks,
+ordering round as usual. Well, if I must, I must;" so down he sat.</p>
+
+<p>"Father," said Grace, as he was leaving them, after a few days' stay,
+"it's Thanksgiving day next month, and you and mother must come and stay
+with us."</p>
+
+<p>Accordingly, the following month found Aunt Sally and Uncle Lot by the
+minister's fireside, delighted witnesses of the Thanksgiving presents
+which a willing people were pouring in; and the next day they had once
+more the pleasure of seeing a son of theirs in the sacred desk, and
+hearing a sermon that every body said was "the best that he ever
+preached;" and it is to be remarked, that this was the standing
+commentary on all James's discourses, so that it was evident he was
+going on unto perfection.</p>
+
+<p>"There's a great deal that's worth having in this 'ere life after all,"
+said Uncle Lot, as he sat by the coals of the bright evening fire of
+that day; "that is, if we'd only take it when the Lord lays it in our
+way."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said James; "and let us only take it as we should, and this life
+will be cheerfulness, and the next fulness of joy."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="LOVE_versus_LAW" id="LOVE_versus_LAW"></a>LOVE <i>versus</i> LAW.</h2>
+
+
+<p>How many kinds of beauty there are! How many even in the human form!
+There are the bloom and motion of childhood, the freshness and ripe
+perfection of youth, the dignity of manhood, the softness of woman&mdash;all
+different, yet each in its kind perfect.</p>
+
+<p>But there is none so peculiar, none that bears more the image of the
+heavenly, than the beauty of <i>Christian old age</i>. It is like the
+loveliness of those calm autumn days, when the heats of summer are past,
+when the harvest is gathered into the garner, and the sun shines over
+the placid fields and fading woods, which stand waiting for their last
+change. It is a beauty more strictly moral, more belonging to the soul,
+than that of any other period of life. Poetic fiction always paints the
+old man as a Christian; nor is there any period where the virtues of
+Christianity seem to find a more harmonious development. The aged man,
+who has outlived the hurry of passion&mdash;who has withstood the urgency of
+temptation&mdash;who has concentrated the religious impulses of youth into
+habits of obedience and love&mdash;who, having served his generation by the
+will of God, now leans in helplessness on Him whom once he served, is,
+perhaps, one of the most faultless representations of the beauty of
+holiness that this world affords.</p>
+
+<p>Thoughts something like these arose in my mind as I slowly turned my
+footsteps from the graveyard of my native village, where I had been
+wandering after years of absence. It was a lovely spot&mdash;a soft slope of
+ground close by a little stream, that ran sparkling through the cedars
+and junipers beyond it, while on the other side arose a green hill, with
+the white village laid like a necklace of pearls upon its bosom.</p>
+
+<p>There is no feature of the landscape more picturesque and peculiar than
+that of the graveyard&mdash;that "city of the silent," as it is beautifully
+expressed by the Orientals&mdash;standing amid the bloom and rejoicing of
+nature, its white stones glittering in the sun, a memorial of decay, a
+link between the living and the dead.</p>
+
+<p>As I moved slowly from mound to mound, and read the inscriptions, which
+purported that many a money-saving man, and many a busy, anxious
+housewife, and many a prattling, half-blossomed child, had done with
+care or mirth, I was struck with a plain slab, bearing the inscription,
+"<i>To the memory of Deacon Enos Dudley, who died in his hundredth year</i>."
+My eye was caught by this inscription, for in other years I had well
+known the person it recorded. At this instant, his mild and venerable
+form arose before me as erst it used to rise from the deacon's seat, a
+straight, close slip just below the pulpit. I recollect his quiet and
+lowly coming into meeting, precisely ten minutes before the time, every
+Sunday,&mdash;his tall form a little stooping,&mdash;his best suit of
+butternut-colored Sunday clothes, with long flaps and wide cuffs, on one
+of which two pins were always to be seen stuck in with the most reverent
+precision. When seated, the top of the pew came just to his chin, so
+that his silvery, placid head rose above it like the moon above the
+horizon. His head was one that might have been sketched for a St.
+John&mdash;bald at the top, and around the temples adorned with a soft flow
+of bright fine hair,&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"That down his shoulders reverently spread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As hoary frost with spangles doth attire<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The naked branches of an oak half dead."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>He was then of great age, and every line of his patient face seemed to
+say, "And now, Lord, what wait I for?" Yet still, year after year, was
+he to be seen in the same place, with the same dutiful punctuality.</p>
+
+<p>The services he offered to his God were all given with the exactness of
+an ancient Israelite. No words could have persuaded him of the propriety
+of meditating when the choir was singing, or of sitting down, even
+through infirmity, before the close of the longest prayer that ever was
+offered. A mighty contrast was he to his fellow-officer, Deacon Abrams,
+a tight, little, tripping, well-to-do man, who used to sit beside him
+with his hair brushed straight up like a little blaze, his coat buttoned
+up trig and close, his psalm book in hand, and his quick gray eyes
+turned first on one side of the broad aisle, and then on the other, and
+then up into the gallery, like a man who came to church on business, and
+felt responsible for every thing that was going on in the house.</p>
+
+<p>A great hinderance was the business talent of this good little man to
+the enjoyments of us youngsters, who, perched along in a row on a low
+seat in front of the pulpit, attempted occasionally to diversify the
+long hour of sermon by sundry small exercises of our own, such as making
+our handkerchiefs into rabbits, or exhibiting, in a sly way, the apples
+and gingerbread we had brought for a Sunday dinner, or pulling the ears
+of some discreet meeting-going dog, who now and then would soberly
+pitapat through the broad aisle. But woe be to us during our contraband
+sports, if we saw Deacon Abrams's sleek head dodging up from behind the
+top of the deacon's seat. Instantly all the apples, gingerbread, and
+handkerchiefs vanished, and we all sat with our hands folded, looking as
+demure as if we understood every word of the sermon, and more too.</p>
+
+<p>There was a great contrast between these two deacons in their services
+and prayers, when, as was often the case, the absence of the pastor
+devolved on them the burden of conducting the duties of the sanctuary.
+That God was great and good, and that we all were sinners, were truths
+that seemed to have melted into the heart of Deacon Enos, so that his
+very soul and spirit were bowed down with them. With Deacon Abrams it
+was an <i>undisputed fact</i>, which he had settled long ago, and concerning
+which he felt that there could be no reasonable doubt, and his bustling
+way of dealing with the matter seemed to say that he knew <i>that</i> and a
+great many things besides.</p>
+
+<p>Deacon Enos was known far and near as a very proverb for peacefulness of
+demeanor and unbounded charitableness in covering and excusing the
+faults of others. As long as there was any doubt in a case of alleged
+evil doing, Deacon Enos <i>guessed</i> "the man did not mean any harm, after
+all;" and when transgression became too barefaced for this excuse, he
+always guessed "it wa'n't best to say much about it; nobody could tell
+what <i>they</i> might be left to."</p>
+
+<p>Some incidents in his life will show more clearly these traits. A
+certain shrewd landholder, by the name of Jones, who was not well
+reported of in the matter of honesty, sold to Deacon Enos a valuable lot
+of land, and received the money for it; but, under various pretences,
+deferred giving the deed. Soon after, he died; and, to the deacon's
+amazement, the deed was nowhere to be found, while this very lot of land
+was left by will to one of his daughters.</p>
+
+<p>The deacon said "it was very extraor'nary: he always knew that Seth
+Jones was considerably sharp about money, but he did not think he would
+do such a right up-and-down wicked thing." So the old man repaired to
+'Squire Abel to state the case, and see if there was any redress. "I
+kinder hate to tell of it," said he; "but, 'Squire Abel, you know Mr.
+Jones was&mdash;was&mdash;<i>what he was</i>, even if he <i>is</i> dead and gone!" This was
+the nearest approach the old gentleman could make to specifying a heavy
+charge against the dead. On being told that the case admitted of no
+redress, Deacon Enos comforted himself with half soliloquizing, "Well,
+at any rate, the land has gone to those two girls, poor lone critters&mdash;I
+hope it will do <i>them</i> some good. There is Silence&mdash;we won't say much
+about her; but Sukey is a nice, pretty girl." And so the old man
+departed, leaving it as his opinion that, since the matter could not be
+mended, it was just as well not to say any thing about it.</p>
+
+<p>Now, the two girls here mentioned (to wit, Silence and Sukey) were the
+eldest and the youngest of a numerous, family, the offspring of three
+wives of Seth Jones, of whom these two were the sole survivors. The
+elder, Silence, was a tall, strong, black-eyed, hard-featured woman,
+verging upon forty, with a good, loud, resolute voice, and what the
+Irishman would call "a dacent notion of using it." Why she was called
+<i>Silence</i> was a standing problem to the neighborhood; for she had more
+faculty and inclination for making a noise than any person in the whole
+township. Miss Silence was one of those persons who have no disposition
+to yield any of their own rights. She marched up to all controverted
+matters, faced down all opposition, held her way lustily and with good
+courage, making men, women, and children turn out for her, as they would
+for a mail stage. So evident was her innate determination to be free and
+independent, that, though she was the daughter of a rich man, and well
+portioned, only one swain was ever heard of who ventured to solicit her
+hand in marriage; and he was sent off with the assurance that, if he
+ever showed his face about the house again, she would set the dogs on
+him.</p>
+
+<p>But Susan Jones was as different from her sister as the little graceful
+convolvulus from the great rough stick that supports it. At the time of
+which we speak she was just eighteen; a modest, slender, blushing girl,
+as timid and shrinking as her sister was bold and hardy. Indeed, the
+education of poor Susan had cost Miss Silence much painstaking and
+trouble, and, after all, she said "the girl would make a fool of
+herself; she never could teach her to be up and down with people, as she
+was."</p>
+
+<p>When the report came to Miss Silence's ears that Deacon Enos considered
+himself as aggrieved by her father's will, she held forth upon the
+subject with great strength of courage and of lungs. "Deacon Enos might
+be in better business than in trying to cheat orphans out of their
+rights&mdash;she hoped he would go to law about it, and see what good he
+would get by it&mdash;a pretty church member and deacon, to be sure! getting
+up such a story about her poor father, dead and gone!"</p>
+
+<p>"But, Silence," said Susan, "Deacon Enos is a good man: I do not think
+he means to injure any one; there must be some mistake about it."</p>
+
+<p>"Susan, you are a little fool, as I have always told you," replied
+Silence; "you would be cheated out of your eye teeth if you had not me
+to take care of you."</p>
+
+<p>But subsequent events brought the affairs of these two damsels in closer
+connection with those of Deacon Enos, as we shall proceed to show.</p>
+
+<p>It happened that the next door neighbor of Deacon Enos was a certain old
+farmer, whose crabbedness of demeanor had procured for him the name of
+<i>Uncle Jaw</i>. This agreeable surname accorded very well with the general
+characteristics both of the person and manner of its possessor. He was
+tall and hard-favored, with an expression of countenance much resembling
+a north-east rain storm&mdash;a drizzling, settled sulkiness, that seemed to
+defy all prospect of clearing off, and to take comfort in its own
+disagreeableness. His voice seemed to have taken lessons of his face, in
+such admirable keeping was its sawing, deliberate growl with the
+pleasing physiognomy before indicated. By nature he was endowed with one
+of those active, acute, hair-splitting minds, which can raise forty
+questions for dispute on any point of the compass; and had he been an
+educated man, he might have proved as clever a metaphysician as ever
+threw dust in the eyes of succeeding generations. But being deprived of
+these advantages, he nevertheless exerted himself to quite as useful a
+purpose in puzzling and mystifying whomsoever came in his way. But his
+activity particularly exercised itself in the line of the law, as it was
+his meat, and drink, and daily meditation, either to find something to
+go to law about, or to go law about something he had found. There was
+always some question about an old rail fence that used to run "a
+<i>leetle</i> more to the left hand," or that was built up "a <i>leetle</i> more
+to the right hand," and so cut off a strip of his "<i>medder land</i>," or
+else there was some outrage of Peter Somebody's turkeys getting into his
+mowing, or Squire Moses's geese were to be shut up in the town pound, or
+something equally important kept him busy from year's end to year's end.
+Now, as a matter of private amusement, this might have answered very
+well; but then Uncle Jaw was not satisfied to fight his own battles, but
+must needs go from house to house, narrating the whole length and
+breadth of the case, with all the <i>says he's</i> and <i>says I's</i>, and the <i>I
+tell'd him's</i> and <i>he tell'd me's</i>, which do either accompany or flow
+therefrom. Moreover, he had such a marvellous facility of finding out
+matters to quarrel about, and of letting every one else know where they,
+too, could muster a quarrel, that he generally succeeded in keeping the
+whole neighborhood by the ears.</p>
+
+<p>And as good Deacon Enos assumed the office of peace-maker for the
+village, Uncle Jaw's efficiency rendered it no sinecure. The deacon
+always followed the steps of Uncle Jaw, smoothing, hushing up, and
+putting matters aright with an assiduity that was truly wonderful.</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Jaw himself had a great respect for the good man, and, in common
+with all the neighborhood, sought unto him for counsel, though, like
+other seekers of advice, he appropriated only so much as seemed good in
+his own eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Still he took a kind of pleasure in dropping in of an evening to Deacon
+Enos's fire, to recount the various matters which he had taken or was to
+take in hand; at one time to narrate "how he had been over the milldam,
+telling old Granny Clark that she could get the law of Seth Scran about
+that pasture lot," or else "how he had told Ziah Bacon's widow that she
+had a right to shut up Bill Scranton's pig every time she caught him in
+front of her house."</p>
+
+<p>But the grand "matter of matters," and the one that took up the most of
+Uncle Jaw's spare time, lay in a dispute between him and 'Squire Jones,
+the father of Susan and Silence; for it so happened that his lands and
+those of Uncle Jaw were contiguous. Now, the matter of dispute was on
+this wise: On 'Squire Jones's land there was a mill, which mill Uncle
+Jaw averred was "always a-flooding his medder land." As Uncle Jaw's
+"medder land" was by nature half bog and bulrushes, and therefore liable
+to be found in a wet condition, there was always a happy obscurity as to
+where the water came from, and whether there was at any time more there
+than belonged to his share. So, when all other subject matters of
+dispute failed, Uncle Jaw recreated himself with getting up a lawsuit
+about his "medder land;" and one of these cases was in pendency when, by
+the death of the squire, the estate was left to Susan and Silence, his
+daughters. When, therefore, the report reached him that Deacon Enos had
+been cheated out of his dues, Uncle Jaw prepared forthwith to go and
+compare notes. Therefore, one evening, as Deacon Enos was sitting
+quietly by the fire, musing and reading with his big Bible open before
+him, he heard the premonitory symptoms of a visitation from Uncle Jaw on
+his door scraper; and soon the man made his appearance. After seating
+himself directly in front of the fire, with his elbows on his knees, and
+his hands spread out over the coals, he looked up in Deacon Enos's mild
+face with his little inquisitive gray eyes, and remarked, by way of
+opening the subject, "Well, deacon, old 'Squire Jones is gone at last. I
+wonder how much good all his land will do him now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," replied Deacon Enos, "it just shows how all these things are not
+worth striving after. We brought nothing into the world, and it is
+certain we can carry nothing out."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, yes," replied Uncle Jaw, "that's all very right, deacon; but it
+was strange how that old 'Squire Jones did hang on to things. Now, that
+mill of his, that was always soaking off water into these medders of
+mine&mdash;I took and tell'd 'Squire Jones just how it was, pretty nigh
+twenty times, and yet he would keep it just so; and now he's dead and
+gone, there is that old gal Silence is full as bad, and makes more
+noise; and she and Suke have got the land; but, you see, I mean to work
+it yet."</p>
+
+<p>Here Uncle Jaw paused to see whether he had produced any sympathetic
+excitement in Deacon Enos; but the old man sat without the least
+emotion, quietly contemplating the top of the long kitchen shovel. Uncle
+Jaw fidgeted in his chair, and changed his mode of attack for one more
+direct. "I heard 'em tell, Deacon Enos, that the squire served you
+something of an unhandy sort of trick about that 'ere lot of land."</p>
+
+<p>Still Deacon Enos made no reply; but Uncle Jaw's perseverance was not so
+to be put off, and he recommenced. "'Squire Abel, you see, he tell'd me
+how the matter was, and he said he did not see as it could be mended;
+but I took and tell'd him, ''Squire Abel,' says I, 'I'd bet pretty nigh
+'most any thing, if Deacon Enos would tell the matter to me, that I
+could find a hole for him to creep out at; for,' says I, 'I've seen
+daylight through more twistical cases than that afore now.'"</p>
+
+<p>Still Deacon Enos remained mute; and Uncle Jaw, after waiting a while,
+recommenced with, "But, railly, deacon, I should like to hear the
+particulars."</p>
+
+<p>"I have made up my mind not to say any thing more about that business,"
+said Deacon Enos, in a tone which, though mild, was so exceedingly
+definite, that Uncle Jaw felt that the case was hopeless in that
+quarter; he therefore betook himself to the statement of his own
+grievances.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, you see, deacon," he began, at the same time taking the tongs, and
+picking up all the little brands, and disposing them in the middle of
+the fire,&mdash;"you see, two days arter the funeral, (for I didn't railly
+like to go any sooner,) I stepped up to hash over the matter with old
+Silence; for as to Sukey, she ha'n't no more to do with such things than
+our white kitten. Now, you see, 'Squire Jones, just afore he died, he
+took away an old rail fence of his'n that lay between his land and mine,
+and began to build a new stone wall; and when I come to measure, I found
+he had took and put a'most the whole width of the stone wall on to my
+land, when there ought not to have been more than half of it come there.
+Now, you see, I could not say a word to 'Squire Jones, because, jest
+before I found it out, he took and died; and so I thought I'd speak to
+old Silence, and see if she meant to do any thing about it, 'cause I
+knew pretty well she wouldn't; and I tell you, if she didn't put it on
+to me! We had a regular pitched battle&mdash;the old gal, I thought she would
+'a screamed herself to death! I don't know but she would, but just then
+poor Sukey came in, and looked so frightened and scarey&mdash;Sukey is a
+pretty gal, and looks so trembling and delicate, that it's kinder a
+shame to plague her, and so I took and come away for that time."</p>
+
+<p>Here Uncle Jaw perceived a brightening in the face of the good deacon,
+and felt exceedingly comforted that at last he was about to interest him
+in his story.</p>
+
+<p>But all this while the deacon had been in a profound meditation
+concerning the ways and means of putting a stop to a quarrel that had
+been his torment from time immemorial, and just at this moment a plan
+had struck his mind which our story will proceed to unfold.</p>
+
+<p>The mode of settling differences which had occurred to the good man was
+one which has been considered a specific in reconciling contending
+sovereigns and states from early antiquity, and the deacon hoped it
+might have a pacifying influence even in so unpromising a case as that
+of Miss Silence and Uncle Jaw.</p>
+
+<p>In former days, Deacon Enos had kept the district school for several
+successive winters, and among his scholars was the gentle Susan Jones,
+then a plump, rosy little girl, with blue eyes, curly hair, and the
+sweetest disposition in the world. There was also little Joseph Adams,
+the only son of Uncle Jaw, a fine, healthy, robust boy, who used to
+spell the longest words, make the best snowballs and poplar whistles,
+and read the loudest and fastest in the Columbian Orator of any boy at
+school.</p>
+
+<p>Little Joe inherited all his father's sharpness, with a double share of
+good humor; so that, though he was forever effervescing in the way of
+one funny trick or another, he was a universal favorite, not only with
+the deacon, but with the whole school.</p>
+
+<p>Master Joseph always took little Susan Jones under his especial
+protection, drew her to school on his sled, helped her out with all the
+long sums in her arithmetic, saw to it that nobody pillaged her dinner
+basket, or knocked down her bonnet, and resolutely whipped or snowballed
+any other boy who attempted the same gallantries. Years passed on, and
+Uncle Jaw had sent his son to college. He sent him because, as he said,
+he had "<i>a right</i> to send him; just as good a right as 'Squire Abel or
+Deacon Abrams to send their boys, and so he <i>would</i> send him." It was
+the remembrance of his old favorite Joseph, and his little pet Susan,
+that came across the mind of Deacon Enos, and which seemed to open a
+gleam of light in regard to the future. So, when Uncle Jaw had finished
+his prelection, the deacon, after some meditation, came out with,
+"Railly, they say that your son is going to have the valedictory in
+college."</p>
+
+<p>Though somewhat startled at the abrupt transition, Uncle Jaw found the
+suggestion too flattering to his pride to be dropped; so, with a
+countenance grimly expressive of his satisfaction, he replied, "Why,
+yes&mdash;yes&mdash;I don't see no reason why a poor man's son ha'n't as much
+right as any one to be at the top, if he can get there."</p>
+
+<p>"Just so," replied Deacon Enos.</p>
+
+<p>"He was always the boy for larning, and for nothing else," continued
+Uncle Jaw; "put him to farming, couldn't make nothing of him. If I set
+him to hoeing corn or hilling potatoes, I'd always find him stopping to
+chase hop-toads, or off after chip-squirrels. But set him down to a
+book, and there he was! That boy larnt reading the quickest of any boy
+that ever I saw: it wasn't a month after he began his <i>a b, abs</i>,
+before he could read in the 'Fox and the Brambles,' and in a month more
+he could clatter off his chapter in the Testament as fast as any of
+them; and you see, in college, it's jest so&mdash;he has ris right up to be
+first."</p>
+
+<p>"And he is coming home week after next," said the deacon, meditatively.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning, as Deacon Enos was eating his breakfast, he quietly
+remarked to his wife, "Sally, I believe it was week after next you were
+meaning to have your quilting?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I never told you so: what alive makes you think that, Deacon
+Dudley?"</p>
+
+<p>"I thought that was your calculation," said the good man, quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, no; to be sure, I <i>can</i> have it, and may be it's the best of any
+time, if we can get Black Dinah to come and help about the cakes and
+pies. I guess we will, finally."</p>
+
+<p>"I think it's likely you had better," replied the deacon, "and we will
+have all the young folks here."</p>
+
+<p>And now let us pass over all the intermediate pounding, and grinding,
+and chopping, which for the next week foretold approaching festivity in
+the kitchen of the deacon. Let us forbear to provoke the appetite of a
+hungry reader by setting in order before him the minced pies, the
+cranberry tarts, the pumpkin pies, the doughnuts, the cookies, and other
+sweet cakes of every description, that sprang into being at the magic
+touch of Black Dinah, the village priestess on all these solemnities.
+Suffice it to say that the day had arrived, and the auspicious quilt was
+spread.</p>
+
+<p>The invitation had not failed to include the Misses Silence and Susan
+Jones&mdash;nay, the good deacon had pressed gallantry into the matter so far
+as to be the bearer of the message himself; for which he was duly
+rewarded by a broadside from Miss Silence, giving him what she termed a
+piece of her mind in the matter of the rights of widows and orphans; to
+all which the good old man listened with great benignity from the
+beginning to the end, and replied with,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well, Miss Silence, I expect you will think better of this before
+long; there had best not be any hard words about it." So saying, he took
+up his hat and walked off, while Miss Silence, who felt extremely
+relieved by having blown off steam, declared that "it was of no more use
+to hector old Deacon Enos than to fire a gun at a bag of cotton wool.
+For all that, though, she shouldn't go to the quilting; nor, more,
+should Susan."</p>
+
+<p>"But, sister, why not?" said the little maiden; "I think I <i>shall</i> go."
+And Susan said this in a tone so mildly positive that Silence was
+amazed.</p>
+
+<p>"What upon 'arth ails you, Susan?" said she, opening her eyes with
+astonishment; "haven't you any more spirit than to go to Deacon Enos's
+when he is doing all he can to ruin us?"</p>
+
+<p>"I like Deacon Enos," replied Susan; "he was always kind to me when I
+was a little girl, and I am not going to believe that he is a bad man
+now."</p>
+
+<p>When a young lady states that she is not going to believe a thing, good
+judges of human nature generally give up the case; but Miss Silence, to
+whom the language of opposition and argument was entirely new, could
+scarcely give her ears credit for veracity in the case; she therefore
+repeated over exactly what she said before, only in a much louder tone
+of voice, and with much more vehement forms of asseveration&mdash;a mode of
+reasoning which, if not strictly logical, has at least the sanction of
+very respectable authorities among the enlightened and learned.</p>
+
+<p>"Silence," replied Susan, when the storm had spent itself, "if it did
+not look like being angry with Deacon Enos, I would stay away to oblige
+you; but it would seem to every one to be taking sides in a quarrel, and
+I never did, and never will, have any part or lot in such things."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you'll just be trod and trampled on all your days, Susan," replied
+Silence; "but, however, if <i>you</i> choose to make a fool of yourself, <i>I</i>
+don't;" and so saying, she flounced out of the room in great wrath. It
+so happened, however, that Miss Silence was one of those who have so
+little economy in disposing of a fit of anger, that it was all used up
+before the time of execution arrived. It followed of consequence, that,
+having unburdened her mind freely both to Deacon Enos and to Susan, she
+began to feel very much more comfortable and good-natured; and
+consequent upon that came divers reflections upon the many gossiping
+opportunities and comforts of a quilting; and then the intrusive little
+reflection, "What if she should go, after all; what harm would be done?"
+and then the inquiry, "Whether it was not her <i>duty</i> to go and look
+after Susan, poor child, who had no mother to watch over her?" In short,
+before the time of preparation arrived, Miss Silence had fully worked
+herself up to the magnanimous determination of going to the quilting.
+Accordingly, the next day, while Susan was standing before her mirror,
+braiding up her pretty hair, she was startled by the apparition of Miss
+Silence coming into the room as stiff as a changeable silk and a high
+horn comb could make her; and "grimly determined was her look."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Susan," said she, "if you <i>will</i> go to the quilting this
+afternoon, I think it is <i>my duty</i> to go and see to you."</p>
+
+<p>What would people do if this convenient shelter of <i>duty</i> did not afford
+them a retreat in cases when they are disposed to change their minds?
+Susan suppressed the arch smile that, in spite of herself, laughed out
+at the corners of her eyes, and told her sister that she was much
+obliged to her for her care. So off they went together.</p>
+
+<p>Silence in the mean time held forth largely on the importance of
+standing up for one's rights, and not letting one's self be trampled on.</p>
+
+<p>The afternoon passed on, the elderly ladies quilted and talked scandal,
+and the younger ones discussed the merits of the various beaux who were
+expected to give vivacity to the evening entertainment. Among these the
+newly-arrived Joseph Adams, just from college, with all his literary
+honors thick about him, became a prominent subject of conversation.</p>
+
+<p>It was duly canvassed whether the young gentleman might be called
+handsome, and the affirmative was carried by a large majority, although
+there were some variations and exceptions; one of the party declaring
+his whiskers to be in too high a state of cultivation, another
+maintaining that they were in the exact line of beauty, while a third
+vigorously disputed the point whether he wore whiskers at all. It was
+allowed by all, however, that he had been a great beau in the town where
+he had passed his college days. It was also inquired into whether he
+were matrimonially engaged; and the negative being understood, they
+diverted themselves with predicting to one another the capture of such a
+prize; each prophecy being received with such disclaimers as "Come now!"
+"Do be still!" "Hush your nonsense!" and the like.</p>
+
+<p>At length the long-wished-for hour arrived, and one by one the lords of
+the creation began to make their appearance; and one of the last was
+this much admired youth.</p>
+
+<p>"That is Joe Adams!" "That is he!" was the busy whisper, as a tall,
+well-looking young man came into the room, with the easy air of one who
+had seen several things before, and was not to be abashed by the
+combined blaze of all the village beauties.</p>
+
+<p>In truth, our friend Joseph had made the most of his residence in N.,
+paying his court no less to the Graces than the Muses. His fine person,
+his frank, manly air, his ready conversation, and his faculty of
+universal adaptation had made his society much coveted among the <i>beau
+monde</i> of N.; and though the place was small, he had become familiar
+with much good society.</p>
+
+<p>We hardly know whether we may venture to tell our fair readers the whole
+truth in regard to our hero. We will merely hint, in the gentlest manner
+in the world, that Mr. Joseph Adams, being undeniably first in the
+classics and first in the drawing room, having been gravely commended in
+his class by his venerable president, and gayly flattered in the drawing
+room by the elegant Miss This and Miss That, was rather inclining to the
+opinion that he was an uncommonly fine fellow, and even had the
+assurance to think that, under present circumstances, he could please
+without making any great effort&mdash;a thing which, however true it were in
+point of fact, is obviously improper to be thought of by a young man. Be
+that as it may, he moved about from one to another, shaking hands with
+all the old ladies, and listening with the greatest affability to the
+various comments on his growth and personal appearance, his points of
+resemblance to his father, mother, grandfather, and grandmother, which
+are always detected by the superior acumen of elderly females.</p>
+
+<p>Among the younger ones, he at once, and with full frankness, recognized
+old schoolmates, and partners in various whortleberry, chestnut, and
+strawberry excursions, and thus called out an abundant flow of
+conversation. Nevertheless, his eye wandered occasionally around the
+room, as if in search of something not there. What could it be? It
+kindled, however, with an expression of sudden brightness as he
+perceived the tall and spare figure of Miss Silence; whether owing to
+the personal fascinations of that lady, or to other causes, we leave the
+reader to determine.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Silence had predetermined never to speak a word again to Uncle Jaw
+or any of his race; but she was taken by surprise at the frank, extended
+hand and friendly "how d'ye do?" It was not in woman to resist so
+cordial an address from a handsome young man, and Miss Silence gave her
+hand, and replied with a graciousness that amazed herself. At this
+moment, also, certain soft blue eyes peeped forth from a corner, just
+"to see if he looked as he used to." Yes, there he was! the same dark,
+mirthful eyes that used to peer on her from behind the corners of the
+spelling book at the district school; and Susan Jones gave a deep sigh
+to those times, and then wondered why she happened to think of such
+nonsense.</p>
+
+<p>"How is your sister, little Miss Susan?" said Joseph.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, she is here&mdash;have you not seen her?" said Silence; "there she is,
+in that corner."</p>
+
+<p>Joseph looked, but could scarcely recognize her. There stood a tall,
+slender, blooming girl, that might have been selected as a specimen of
+that union of perfect health with delicate fairness so characteristic of
+the young New England beauty.</p>
+
+<p>She was engaged in telling some merry story to a knot of young girls,
+and the rich color that, like a bright spirit, constantly went and came
+in her cheeks; the dimples, quick and varying as those of a little
+brook; the clear, mild eye; the clustering curls, and, above all, the
+happy, rejoicing smile, and the transparent frankness and simplicity of
+expression which beamed like sunshine about her, all formed a
+combination of charms that took our hero quite by surprise; and when
+Silence, who had a remarkable degree of directness in all her dealings,
+called out, "Here, Susan, is Joe Adams, inquiring after you!" our
+practised young gentleman felt himself color to the roots of his hair,
+and for a moment he could scarce recollect that first rudiment of
+manners, "to make his bow like a good boy." Susan colored also; but,
+perceiving the confusion of our hero, her countenance assumed an
+expression of mischievous drollery, which, helped on by the titter of
+her companions, added not a little to his confusion.</p>
+
+<p>"Dense take it!" thought he, "what's the matter with me?" and, calling
+up his courage, he dashed into the formidable circle of fair ones, and
+began chattering with one and another, calling by name with or without
+introduction, remembering things that never happened, with a freedom
+that was perfectly fascinating.</p>
+
+<p>"Really, how handsome he has grown!" thought Susan; and she colored
+deeply when once or twice the dark eyes of our hero made the same
+observation with regard to herself, in that quick, intelligible dialect
+which eyes alone can speak. And when the little party dispersed, as they
+did very punctually at nine o'clock, our hero requested of Miss Silence
+the honor of attending her home&mdash;an evidence of discriminating taste
+which materially raised him in the estimation of that lady. It was true,
+to be sure, that Susan walked on the other side of him, her little white
+hand just within his arm; and there was something in that light touch
+that puzzled him unaccountably, as might be inferred from the frequency
+with which Miss Silence was obliged to bring up the ends of conversation
+with, "What did you say?" "What were you going to say?" and other
+persevering forms of inquiry, with which a regular-trained
+matter-of-fact talker will hunt down a poor fellow-mortal who is in
+danger of sinking into a comfortable revery.</p>
+
+<p>When they parted at the gate, however, Silence gave our hero a hearty
+invitation to "come and see them any time," which he mentally regarded
+as more to the point than any thing else that had been said.</p>
+
+<p>As Joseph soberly retraced his way homeward, his thoughts, by some
+unaccountable association, began to revert to such topics as the
+loneliness of man by himself, the need of kindred spirits, the solaces
+of sympathy, and other like matters.</p>
+
+<p>That night Joseph dreamed of trotting along with his dinner basket to
+the old brown school house, and vainly endeavoring to overtake Susan
+Jones, whom he saw with her little pasteboard sun bonnet a few yards in
+front of him; then he was <i>teetering</i> with her on a long board, her
+bright little face glancing up and down, while every curl around it
+seemed to be living with delight; and then he was snowballing Tom
+Williams for knocking down Susan's doll's house, or he sat by her on a
+bench, helping her out with a long sum in arithmetic; but, with the
+mischievous fatality of dreams, the more he ciphered and expounded, the
+longer and more hopeless grew the sum; and he awoke in the morning
+pshawing at his ill luck, after having done a sum over half a dozen
+times, while Susan seemed to be looking on with the same air of arch
+drollery that he saw on her face the evening before.</p>
+
+<p>"Joseph," said Uncle Jaw, the next morning at breakfast, "I s'pose
+'Squire Jones's daughters were not at the quilting."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir, they were," said our hero; "they were both there."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, you don't say so!"</p>
+
+<p>"They certainly were," persisted the son.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I thought the old gal had too much spunk for that: you see there
+is a quarrel between the deacon and them gals."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed!" said Joseph. "I thought the deacon never quarrelled with any
+body."</p>
+
+<p>"But, you see, old Silence there, she will quarrel with <i>him</i>: railly,
+that cretur is a tough one;" and Uncle Jaw leaned back in his chair, and
+contemplated the quarrelsome propensities of Miss Silence with the
+satisfaction of a kindred spirit. "But I'll fix her yet," he continued;
+"I see how to work it."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, father, I did not know that you had any thing to do with their
+affairs."</p>
+
+<p>"Hain't I? I should like to know if I hain't!" replied Uncle Jaw,
+triumphantly. "Now, see here, Joseph: you see, I mean you shall be a
+lawyer: I'm pretty considerable of a lawyer myself&mdash;that is, for one not
+college larnt; and I'll tell you how it is"&mdash;and thereupon Uncle Jaw
+launched forth into the case of the <i>medder</i> land and the mill, and
+concluded with, "Now, Joseph, this 'ere is a kinder whetstone for you to
+hone up your wits on."</p>
+
+<p>In pursuance, therefore, of this plan of sharpening his wits in the
+manner aforesaid, our hero, after breakfast, went like a dutiful son,
+directly towards 'Squire Jones's, doubtless for the purpose of taking
+ocular survey of the meadow land, mill, and stone wall; but, by some
+unaccountable mistake, lost his way, and found himself standing before
+the door of 'Squire Jones's house.</p>
+
+<p>The old squire had been among the aristocracy of the village, and his
+house had been the ultimate standard of comparison in all matters of
+style and garniture. Their big front room, instead of being strewn with
+lumps of sand, duly streaked over twice a week, was resplendent with a
+carpet of red, yellow, and black stripes, while a towering pair of
+long-legged brass andirons, scoured to a silvery white, gave an air of
+magnificence to the chimney, which was materially increased by the tall
+brass-headed shovel and tongs, which, like a decorous, starched married
+couple, stood bolt upright in their places on either side. The sanctity
+of the place was still further maintained by keeping the window shutters
+always closed, admitting only so much light as could come in by a round
+hole at the top of the shutter; and it was only on occasions of
+extraordinary magnificence that the room was thrown open to profane
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Our hero was surprised, therefore, to find both the doors and windows of
+this apartment open, and symptoms evident of its being in daily
+occupation. The furniture still retained its massive, clumsy stiffness,
+but there were various tokens that lighter fingers had been at work
+there since the notable days of good Dame Jones. There was a vase of
+flowers on the table, two or three books of poetry, and a little fairy
+work-basket, from which peeped forth the edges of some worked ruffling;
+there was a small writing desk, and last, not least, in a lady's
+collection, an album, with leaves of every color of the rainbow,
+containing inscriptions, in sundry strong masculine hands, "To Susan,"
+indicating that other people had had their eyes open as well as Mr.
+Joseph Adams. "So," said he to himself, "this quiet little beauty has
+had admirers, after all;" and consequent upon this came another
+question, (which was none of his concern, to be sure,) whether the
+little lady were or were not engaged; and from these speculations he was
+aroused by a light footstep, and anon the neat form of Susan made its
+appearance.</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning, Miss Jones," said he, bowing.</p>
+
+<p>Now, there is something very comical in the feeling, when little boys
+and girls, who have always known each other as plain Susan or Joseph,
+first meet as "Mr." or "Miss" So-and-so. Each one feels half disposed,
+half afraid, to return to the old familiar form, and awkwardly fettered
+by the recollection that they are no longer children. Both parties had
+felt this the evening before, when they met in company; but now that
+they were alone together, the feeling became still stronger; and when
+Susan had requested Mr. Adams to take a chair, and Mr. Adams had
+inquired after Miss Susan's health, there ensued a pause, which, the
+longer it continued, seemed the more difficult to break, and during
+which Susan's pretty face slowly assumed an expression of the ludicrous,
+till she was as near laughing as propriety would admit; and Mr. Adams,
+having looked out at the window, and up at the mantel-piece, and down at
+the carpet, at last looked at Susan; their eyes met; the effect was
+electrical; they both smiled, and then laughed outright, after which the
+whole difficulty of conversation vanished.</p>
+
+<p>"Susan," said Joseph, "do you remember the old school house?"</p>
+
+<p>"I thought that was what you were thinking of," said Susan; "but,
+really, you have grown and altered so that I could hardly believe my
+eyes last night."</p>
+
+<p>"Nor I mine," said Joseph, with a glance that gave a very complimentary
+turn to the expression.</p>
+
+<p>Our readers may imagine that after this the conversation proceeded to
+grow increasingly confidential and interesting; that from the account of
+early life, each proceeded to let the other know something of
+intervening history, in the course of which each discovered a number of
+new and admirable traits in the other, such things being matters of very
+common occurrence. In the course of the conversation Joseph discovered
+that it was necessary that Susan should have two or three books then in
+his possession; and as promptitude is a great matter in such cases, he
+promised to bring them "to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>For some time our young friends pursued their acquaintance without a
+distinct consciousness of any thing except that it was a very pleasant
+thing to be together. During the long, still afternoons, they rambled
+among the fading woods, now illuminated with the radiance of the dying
+year, and sentimentalized and quoted poetry; and almost every evening
+Joseph found some errand to bring him to the house; a book for Miss
+Susan, or a bundle of roots and herbs for Miss Silence, or some
+remarkably fine yarn for her to knit&mdash;attentions which retained our hero
+in the good graces of the latter lady, and gained him the credit of
+being "a young man that knew how to behave himself." As Susan was a
+leading member in the village choir, our hero was directly attacked with
+a violent passion for sacred music, which brought him punctually to the
+singing school, where the young people came together to sing anthems and
+fuguing tunes, and to eat apples and chestnuts.</p>
+
+<p>It cannot be supposed that all these things passed unnoticed by those
+wakeful eyes that are ever upon the motions of such "bright, particular
+stars;" and as is usual in such cases, many things were known to a
+certainty which were not yet known to the parties themselves. The young
+belles and beaux whispered and tittered, and passed the original jokes
+and witticisms common in such cases, while the old ladies soberly took
+the matter in hand when they went out with their knitting to make
+afternoon visits, considering how much money Uncle Jaw had, how much his
+son would have, and what all together would come to, and whether Joseph
+would be a "smart man," and Susan a good housekeeper, with all the "ifs,
+ands, and buts" of married life.</p>
+
+<p>But the most fearful wonders and prognostics crowded around the point
+"what Uncle Jaw would have to say to the matter." His lawsuit with the
+sisters being well understood, as there was every reason it should be,
+it was surmised what two such vigorous belligerents as himself and Miss
+Silence would say to the prospect of a matrimonial conjunction. It was
+also reported that Deacon Enos Dudley had a claim to the land which
+constituted the finest part of Susan's portion, the loss of which would
+render the consent of Uncle Jaw still more doubtful. But all this while
+Miss Silence knew nothing of the matter, for her habit of considering
+and treating Susan as a child seemed to gain strength with time. Susan
+was always to be seen to, and watched, and instructed, and taught; and
+Miss Silence could not conceive that one who could not even make
+pickles, without her to oversee, could think of such a matter as setting
+up housekeeping on her own account. To be sure, she began to observe an
+extraordinary change in her sister; remarked that "lately Susan seemed
+to be getting sort o' crazy-headed;" that she seemed not to have any
+"faculty" for any thing; that she had made gingerbread twice, and forgot
+the ginger one time, and put in mustard the other; that she shook the
+saltcellar out in the tablecloth, and let the cat into the pantry half a
+dozen times; and that when scolded for these sins of omission or
+commission, she had a fit of crying, and did a little worse than before.
+Silence was of opinion that Susan was getting to be "weakly and naarvy,"
+and actually concocted an unmerciful pitcher of wormwood and boneset,
+which she said was to keep off the "shaking weakness" that was coming
+over her. In vain poor Susan protested that she was well enough; Miss
+Silence <i>knew better</i>; and one evening she entertained Mr. Joseph Adams
+with a long statement of the case in all its bearings, and ended with
+demanding his opinion, as a candid listener, whether the wormwood and
+boneset sentence should not be executed.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Susan had that very afternoon parted from a knot of young friends
+who had teased her most unmercifully on the score of attentions
+received, till she began to think the very leaves and stones were so
+many eyes to pry into her secret feelings; and then to have the whole
+case set in order before the very person, too, whom she most dreaded.
+"Certainly he would think she was acting like a fool; perhaps he did not
+mean any thing more than friendship, <i>after all</i>; and she would not for
+the world have him suppose that she cared a copper more for him than for
+any other <i>friend</i>, or that she was <i>in love</i>, of all things." So she
+sat very busy with her knitting work, scarcely knowing what she was
+about, till Silence called out,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Susan, what a piece of work you are making of that stocking heel!
+What in the world are you doing to it?"</p>
+
+<p>Susan dropped her knitting, and making some pettish answer, escaped out
+of the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, did you ever?" said Silence, laying down the seam she had been
+cross-stitching; "what <i>is</i> the matter with her, Mr. Adams?"</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Susan is certainly indisposed," replied our hero gravely. "I must
+get her to take your advice, Miss Silence."</p>
+
+<p>Our hero followed Susan to the front door, where she stood looking out
+at the moon, and begged to know what distressed her.</p>
+
+<p>Of course it was "nothing," the young lady's usual complaint when in low
+spirits; and to show that she was perfectly easy, she began an unsparing
+attack on a white rosebush near by.</p>
+
+<p>"Susan!" said Joseph, laying his hand on hers, and in a tone that made
+her start. She shook back her curls, and looked up to him with such an
+innocent, confiding face!</p>
+
+<p>Ah, my good reader, you may go on with this part of the story for
+yourself. We are principled against unveiling the "sacred mysteries,"
+the "thoughts that breathe and words that burn," in such little
+moonlight interviews as these. You may fancy all that followed; and we
+can only assure all who are doubtful, that, under judicious management,
+cases of this kind may be disposed of without wormwood or boneset. Our
+hero and heroine were called to sublunary realities by the voice of Miss
+Silence, who came into the passage to see what upon earth they were
+doing. That lady was satisfied by the representations of so friendly and
+learned a young man as Joseph that nothing immediately alarming was to
+be apprehended in the case of Susan; and she retired. From that evening
+Susan stepped about with a heart many pounds lighter than before.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you what, Joseph," said Uncle Jaw, "I'll tell you what, now:
+I hear 'em tell that you've took and courted that 'ere Susan Jones. Now,
+I jest want to know if it's true."</p>
+
+<p>There was an explicitness about this mode of inquiry that took our hero
+quite by surprise, so that he could only reply,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Why, sir, supposing I had, would there be any objection to it in your
+mind?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't talk to me," said Uncle Jaw. "I jest want to know if it's true."</p>
+
+<p>Our hero put his hands in his pockets, walked to the window, and
+whistled.</p>
+
+<p>"'Cause if you have," said Uncle Jaw, "you may jest un-court as fast as
+you can; for 'Squire Jones's daughter won't get a single cent of my
+money, I can tell you that."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, father, Susan Jones is not to blame for any thing that her father
+did; and I'm sure she is a pretty girl enough."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care if she is pretty. What's that to me? I've got you through
+college, Joseph; and a hard time I've had of it, a-delvin' and slavin';
+and here you come, and the very first thing you do you must take and
+court that 'ere 'Squire Jones's daughter, who was always putting himself
+up above me. Besides, I mean to have the law on that estate yet; and
+Deacon Dudley, he will have the law, too; and it will cut off the best
+piece of land the girl has; and when you get married, I mean you shall
+<i>have</i> something. It's jest a trick of them gals at me; but I guess I'll
+come up with 'em yet. I'm just a-goin' down to have a 'regular hash'
+with old Silence, to let her know she can't come round me that way."</p>
+
+<p>"Silence," said Susan, drawing her head into the window, and looking
+apprehensive, "there is Mr. Adams coming here."</p>
+
+<p>"What, Joe Adams? Well, and what if he is?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, sister, but it is his father&mdash;it is Uncle Jaw."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, s'pose 'tis, child&mdash;what scares you? S'pose I'm afraid of him? If
+he wants more than I gave him last time, I'll put it on." So saying,
+Miss Silence took her knitting work and marched down into the sitting
+room, and sat herself bolt upright in an attitude of defiance, while
+poor Susan, feeling her heart beat unaccountably fast, glided out of the
+room.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, good morning, Miss Silence," said Uncle Jaw, after having scraped
+his feet on the scraper, and scrubbed them on the mat nearly ten
+minutes, in silent deliberation.</p>
+
+<p>"Morning, sir," said Silence, abbreviating the "good."</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Jaw helped himself to a chair directly in front of the enemy,
+dropped his hat on the floor, and surveyed Miss Silence with a dogged
+air of satisfaction, like one who is sitting down to a regular,
+comfortable quarrel, and means to make the most of it.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Silence tossed her head disdainfully, but scorned to commence
+hostilities.</p>
+
+<p>"So, Miss Silence," said Uncle Jaw, deliberately, "you don't think
+you'll do any thing about that 'ere matter."</p>
+
+<p>"What matter?" said Silence, with an intonation resembling that of a
+roasted chestnut when it bursts from the fire.</p>
+
+<p>"I really thought, Miss Silence, in that 'ere talk I had with you about
+'Squire Jones's cheatin' about that 'ere&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Adams," said Silence, "I tell you, to begin with, I'm not a going
+to be sauced in this 'ere way by you. You hain't got common decency, nor
+common sense, nor common any thing else, to talk so to me about my
+father; I won't bear it, I tell you."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Miss Jones," said Uncle Jaw, "how you talk! Well, to be sure,
+'Squire Jones is dead and gone, and it's as well not to call it
+cheatin', as I was tellin' Deacon Enos when he was talking about that
+'ere lot&mdash;that 'ere lot, you know, that he sold the deacon, and never
+let him have the deed on't."</p>
+
+<p>"That's a lie," said Silence, starting on her feet; "that's an up and
+down black lie! I tell you that, now, before you say another word."</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Silence, railly, you seem to be getting touchy," said Uncle Jaw;
+"well, to be sure, if the deacon can let that pass, other folks can; and
+maybe the deacon will, because 'Squire Jones was a church member, and
+the deacon is 'mazin' tender about bringin' out any thing against
+professors; but railly, now, Miss Silence, I didn't think you and Susan
+were going to work it so cunning in this here way."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know what you mean, and, what's more, I don't care," said
+Silence, resuming her work, and calling back the bolt-upright dignity
+with which she began.</p>
+
+<p>There was a pause of some moments, during which the features of Silence
+worked with suppressed rage, which was contemplated by Uncle Jaw with
+undisguised satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>"You see, I s'pose, I shouldn't a minded your Susan's setting out to
+court up my Joe, if it hadn't a been for them things."</p>
+
+<p>"Courting your son! Mr. Adams, I should like to know what you mean by
+that. I'm sure nobody wants your son, though he's a civil, likely fellow
+enough; yet with such an old dragon for a father, I'll warrant he won't
+get any body to court him, nor be courted by him neither."</p>
+
+<p>"Railly, Miss Silence, you ain't hardly civil, now."</p>
+
+<p>"Civil! I should like to know who <i>could</i> be civil. You know, now, as
+well as I do, that you are saying all this out of clear, sheer ugliness;
+and that's what you keep a doing all round the neighborhood."</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Silence," said Uncle Jaw, "I don't want no hard words with you.
+It's pretty much known round the neighborhood that your Susan thinks
+she'll get my Joe, and I s'pose you was thinking that perhaps it would
+be the best way of settling up matters; but you see, now, I took and
+tell'd my son I railly didn't see as I could afford it; I took and
+tell'd him that young folks must have something considerable to start
+with; and that, if Susan lost that 'ere piece of ground, as is likely
+she will, it would be cutting off quite too much of a piece; so, you
+see, I don't want you to take no encouragement about that."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I think this is pretty well!" exclaimed Silence, provoked beyond
+measure or endurance; "you old torment! think I don't know what you're
+at! I and Susan courting your son? I wonder if you ain't ashamed of
+yourself, now! I should like to know what I or she have done, now, to
+get that notion into your head?"</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't s'pose you 'spected to get him yourself," said Uncle Jaw, "for
+I guess by this time you've pretty much gin up trying, hain't ye? But
+Susan does, I'm pretty sure."</p>
+
+<p>"Here, Susan! Susan! you&mdash;come down!" called Miss Silence, in great
+wrath, throwing open the chamber door. "Mr. Adams wants to speak with
+you." Susan, fluttering and agitated, slowly descended into the room,
+where she stopped, and looked hesitatingly, first at Uncle Jaw and then
+at her sister, who, without ceremony, proposed the subject matter of the
+interview as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Susan, here's this man pretends to say that you've been a courting
+and snaring to get his son; and I just want you to tell him that you
+hain't never had no thought of him, and that you won't have, neither."</p>
+
+<p>This considerate way of announcing the subject had the effect of
+bringing the burning color into Susan's face, as she stood like a
+convicted culprit, with her eyes bent on the floor.</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Jaw, savage as he was, was always moved by female loveliness, as
+wild beasts are said to be mysteriously swayed by music, and looked on
+the beautiful, downcast face with more softening than Miss Silence, who,
+provoked that Susan did not immediately respond to the question, seized
+her by the arm, and eagerly reiterated,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Susan! why don't you speak, child?"</p>
+
+<p>Gathering desperate courage, Susan shook off the hand of Silence, and
+straightened herself up with as much dignity as some little flower lifts
+up its head when it has been bent down by rain drops.</p>
+
+<p>"Silence," she said, "I never would have come down if I had thought it
+was to hear such things as this. Mr. Adams, all I have to say to you is,
+that your son has sought me, and not I your son. If you wish to know any
+more, he can tell you better than I."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I vow! she is a pretty gal," said Uncle Jaw, as Susan shut the
+door.</p>
+
+<p>This exclamation was involuntary; then recollecting himself, he picked
+up his hat, and saying, "Well, I guess I may as well get along hum," he
+began to depart; but turning round before he shut the door, he said,
+"Miss Silence, if you should conclude to do any thing about that 'ere
+fence, just send word over and let me know."</p>
+
+<p>Silence, without deigning any reply, marched up into Susan's little
+chamber, where our heroine was treating resolution to a good fit of
+crying.</p>
+
+<p>"Susan, I did not think you had been such a fool," said the lady. "I do
+want to know, now, if you've railly been thinking of getting married,
+and to that Joe Adams of all folks!"</p>
+
+<p>Poor Susan! such an interlude in all her pretty, romantic little dreams
+about kindred feelings and a hundred other delightful ideas, that
+flutter like singing birds through the fairy land of first love. Such an
+interlude! to be called on by gruff human voices to give up all the
+cherished secrets that she had trembled to whisper even to herself. She
+felt as if love itself had been defiled by the coarse, rough hands that
+had been meddling with it; so to her sister's soothing address Susan
+made no answer, only to cry and sob still more bitterly than before.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Silence, if she had a great stout heart, had no less a kind one,
+and seeing Susan take the matter so bitterly to heart, she began
+gradually to subside.</p>
+
+<p>"Susan, you poor little fool, you," said she, at the same time giving
+her a hearty slap, as expressive of earnest sympathy, "I really do feel
+for you; that good-for-nothing fellow has been a cheatin' you, I do
+believe."</p>
+
+<p>"O, don't talk any more about it, for mercy's sake," said Susan; "I am
+sick of the whole of it."</p>
+
+<p>"That's you, Susan! Glad to hear you say so! I'll stand up for you,
+Susan; if I catch Joe Adams coming here again with his palavering face,
+I'll let him know!"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no! Don't, for mercy's sake, say any thing to Mr. Adams&mdash;don't!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, child, don't claw hold of a body so! Well, at any rate, I'll just
+let Joe Adams know that we hain't nothing more to say to him."</p>
+
+<p>"But I don't wish to say that&mdash;that is&mdash;I don't know&mdash;indeed, sister
+Silence, don't say any thing about it."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not? You ain't such a <i>natural</i>, now, as to want to marry him,
+after all, hey?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know what I want, nor what I don't want; only, Silence, do now,
+if you love me, do promise not to say any thing at all to Mr.
+Adams&mdash;don't."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, I won't," said Silence; "but, Susan, if you railly was in
+love all this while, why hain't you been and told me? Don't you know
+that I'm as much as a mother to you, and you ought to have told me in
+the beginning?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, Silence! I couldn't&mdash;I don't want to talk about it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Susan, you ain't a bit like me," said Silence&mdash;a remark evincing
+great discrimination, certainly, and with which the conversation
+terminated.</p>
+
+<p>That very evening our friend Joseph walked down towards the dwelling of
+the sisters, not without some anxiety for the result, for he knew by his
+father's satisfied appearance that war had been declared. He walked into
+the family room, and found nobody there but Miss Silence, who was
+sitting, grim as an Egyptian sphinx, stitching very vigorously on a meal
+bag, in which interesting employment she thought proper to be so much
+engaged as not to remark the entrance of our hero. To Joseph's
+accustomed "Good evening, Miss Silence," she replied merely by looking
+up with a cold nod, and went on with her sewing. It appeared that she
+had determined on a literal version of her promise not to say any thing
+to Mr. Adams.</p>
+
+<p>Our hero, as we have before stated, was familiar with the crooks and
+turns of the female mind, and mentally resolved to put a bold face on
+the matter, and give Miss Silence no encouragement in her attempt to
+make him feel himself unwelcome. It was rather a frosty autumnal
+evening, and the fire on the hearth was decaying. Mr. Joseph bustled
+about most energetically, throwing down the tongs, and shovel, and
+bellows, while he pulled the fire to pieces, raked out ashes and brands,
+and then, in a twinkling, was at the woodpile, from whence he selected a
+massive backlog and forestick, with accompaniments, which were soon
+roaring and crackling in the chimney.</p>
+
+<p>"There, now, that does look something like comfort," said our hero; and
+drawing forward the big rocking chair, he seated himself in it, and
+rubbed his hands with an air of great complacency. Miss Silence looked
+not up, but stitched so much the faster, so that one might distinctly
+hear the crack of the needle and the whistle of the thread all over the
+apartment.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you a headache to-night, Miss Silence?"</p>
+
+<p>"No!" was the gruff answer.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you in a hurry about those bags?" said he, glancing at a pile of
+unmade ones which lay by her side.</p>
+
+<p>No reply. "Hang it all!" said our hero to himself, "I'll make her
+speak."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Silence's needle book and brown thread lay on a chair beside her.
+Our friend helped himself to a needle and thread, and taking one of the
+bags, planted himself bolt upright opposite to Miss Silence, and pinning
+his work to his knee, commenced stitching at a rate fully equal to her
+own.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Silence looked up and fidgeted, but went on with her work faster
+than before; but the faster she worked, the faster and steadier worked
+our hero, all in "marvellous silence." There began to be an odd
+twitching about the muscles of Miss Silence's face; our hero took no
+notice, having pursed his features into an expression of unexampled
+gravity, which only grew more intense as he perceived, by certain uneasy
+movements, that the adversary was beginning to waver.</p>
+
+<p>As they were sitting, stitching away, their needles whizzing at each
+other like a couple of locomotives engaged in conversation, Susan opened
+the door.</p>
+
+<p>The poor child had been crying for the greater part of her spare time
+during the day, and was in no very merry humor; but the moment that her
+astonished eyes comprehended the scene, she burst into a fit of almost
+inextinguishable merriment, while Silence laid down her needle, and
+looked half amused and half angry. Our hero, however, continued his
+business with inflexible perseverance, unpinning his work and moving the
+seam along, and going on with increased velocity.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Miss Silence was at length vanquished, and joined in the loud laugh
+which seemed to convulse her sister. Whereupon our hero unpinned his
+work, and folding it up, looked up at her with all the assurance of
+impudence triumphant, and remarked to Susan,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Your sister had such a pile of these pillow cases to make, that she was
+quite discouraged, and engaged me to do half a dozen of them: when I
+first came in she was so busy she could not even speak to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if you ain't the beater for impudence!" said Miss Silence.</p>
+
+<p>"The beater for <i>industry</i>&mdash;so I thought," rejoined our hero.</p>
+
+<p>Susan, who had been in a highly tragical state of mind all day, and who
+was meditating on nothing less sublime than an eternal separation from
+her lover, which she had imagined, with all the affecting attendants and
+consequents, was entirely revolutionized by the unexpected turn thus
+given to her ideas, while our hero pursued the opportunity he had made
+for himself, and exerted his powers of entertainment to the utmost, till
+Miss Silence, declaring that if she had been washing all day she should
+not have been more tired than she was with laughing, took up her candle,
+and good-naturedly left our young people to settle matters between
+themselves. There was a grave pause of some length when she had
+departed, which was broken by our hero, who, seating himself by Susan,
+inquired very seriously if his father had made proposals of marriage to
+Miss Silence that morning.</p>
+
+<p>"No, you provoking creature!" said Susan, at the same time laughing at
+the absurdity of the idea.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, now, don't draw on your long face again, Susan," said Joseph;
+"you have been trying to lengthen it down all the evening, if I would
+have let you. Seriously, now, I know that something painful passed
+between my father and you this morning, but I shall not inquire what it
+was. I only tell you, frankly, that he has expressed his disapprobation
+of our engagement, forbidden me to go on with it, and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And, consequently, I release you from all engagements and obligations
+to me, even before you ask it," said Susan.</p>
+
+<p>"You are extremely accommodating," replied Joseph; "but I cannot promise
+to be as obliging in giving up certain promises made to me, unless,
+indeed, the feelings that dictated them should have changed."</p>
+
+<p>"O, no&mdash;no, indeed," said Susan, earnestly; "you know it is not that;
+but if your father objects to me&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"If my father objects to you, he is welcome not to marry you," said
+Joseph.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Joseph, do be serious," said Susan.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, seriously, Susan, I know my obligations to my father, and
+in all that relates to his comfort I will ever be dutiful and
+submissive, for I have no college boy pride on the subject of
+submission; but in a matter so individually my own as the choice of a
+wife, in a matter that will most likely affect my happiness years and
+years after he has ceased to be, I hold that I have a right to consult
+my own inclinations, and, by your leave, my dear little lady, I shall
+take that liberty."</p>
+
+<p>"But, then, if your father is made angry, you know what sort of a man he
+is; and how could I stand in the way of all your prospects?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, my dear Susan, do you think I count myself dependent upon my
+father, like the heir of an English estate, who has nothing to do but
+sit still and wait for money to come to him? No! I have energy and
+education to start with, and if I cannot take care of myself, and you
+too, then cast me off and welcome;" and, as Joseph spoke, his fine face
+glowed with a conscious power, which unfettered youth never feels so
+fully as in America. He paused a moment, and resumed: "Nevertheless,
+Susan, I respect my father; whatever others may say of him, I shall
+never forget that I owe to his hard earnings the education that enables
+me to do or be any thing, and I shall not wantonly or rudely cross him.
+I do not despair of gaining his consent; my father has a great
+partiality for pretty girls, and if his love of contradiction is not
+kept awake by open argument, I will trust to time and you to bring him
+round; but, whatever comes, rest assured, my dearest one, I have chosen
+for life, and cannot change."</p>
+
+<p>The conversation, after this, took a turn which may readily be imagined
+by all who have been in the same situation, and will, therefore, need no
+further illustration.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>"Well, deacon, railly I don't know what to think now: there's my Joe,
+he's took and been a courting that 'ere Susan," said Uncle Jaw.</p>
+
+<p>This was the introduction to one of Uncle Jaw's periodical visits to
+Deacon Enos, who was sitting with his usual air of mild abstraction,
+looking into the coals of a bright November fire, while his busy
+helpmate was industriously rattling her knitting needles by his side.</p>
+
+<p>A close observer might have suspected that this was <i>no news</i> to the
+good deacon, who had given a great deal of good advice, in private, to
+Master Joseph of late; but he only relaxed his features into a quiet
+smile, and ejaculated, "I want to know!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; and railly, deacon, that 'ere gal is a rail pretty un. I was a
+tellin' my folks that our new minister's wife was a fool to her."</p>
+
+<p>"And so your son is going to marry her?" said the good lady; "I knew
+that long ago."</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;no&mdash;not so fast; ye see there's two to that bargain yet. You see,
+Joe, he never said a word to me, but took and courted the gal out of his
+own head; and when I come to know, says I, 'Joe,' says I, 'that 'ere gal
+won't do for me;' and I took and tell'd him, then, about that 'ere old
+fence, and all about that old mill, and them <i>medder</i>s of mine; and I
+tell'd him, too, about that 'ere lot of Susan's; and I should like to
+know, now, deacon, how that lot business is a going to turn out."</p>
+
+<p>"Judge Smith and 'Squire Moseley say that my claim to it will stand,"
+said the deacon.</p>
+
+<p>"They do?" said Uncle Jaw, with much satisfaction; "s'pose, then, you'll
+sue, won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," replied the deacon, meditatively.</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Jaw was thoroughly amazed; that any one should have doubts about
+entering suit for a fine piece of land, when sure of obtaining it, was a
+problem quite beyond his powers of solving.</p>
+
+<p>"You say your son has courted the girl," said the deacon, after a long
+pause; "that strip of land is the best part of Susan's share; I paid
+down five hundred dollars on the nail for it; I've got papers here that
+Judge Smith and 'Squire Moseley say will stand good in any court of
+law."</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Jaw pricked up his ears and was all attention, eying with eager
+looks the packet; but, to his disappointment, the deacon deliberately
+laid it into his desk, shut and locked it, and resumed his seat.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, railly," said Uncle Jaw, "I should like to know the particulars."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well," said the deacon, "the lawyers will be at my house
+to-morrow evening, and if you have any concern about it, you may as well
+come along."</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Jaw wondered all the way home at what he could have done to get
+himself into the confidence of the old deacon, who, he rejoiced to
+think, was a going to "take" and go to law like other folks.</p>
+
+<p>The next day there was an appearance of some bustle and preparation
+about the deacon's house; the best room was opened and aired; an ovenful
+of cake was baked; and our friend Joseph, with a face full of business,
+was seen passing to and fro, in and out of the house, from various
+closetings with the deacon. The deacon's lady bustled about the house
+with an air of wonderful mystery, and even gave her directions about
+eggs and raisins in a whisper, lest they should possibly let out some
+eventful secret.</p>
+
+<p>The afternoon of that day Joseph appeared at the house of the sisters,
+stating that there was to be company at the deacon's that evening, and
+he was sent to invite them.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, what's got into the deacon's folks lately," said Silence, "to have
+company so often? Joe Adams, this 'ere is some 'cut up' of yours. Come,
+what are you up to now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Come, come, dress yourselves and get ready," said Joseph; and, stepping
+up to Susan, as she was following Silence out of the room, he whispered
+something into her ear, at which she stopped short and colored
+violently.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Joseph, what do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is so," said he.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, Joseph; no, I can't, indeed I can't."</p>
+
+<p>"But you <i>can</i>, Susan."</p>
+
+<p>"O Joseph, don't."</p>
+
+<p>"O Susan, <i>do</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, how strange, Joseph!"</p>
+
+<p>"Come, come, my dear, you keep me waiting. If you have any objections on
+the score of propriety, we will talk about them <i>to-morrow</i>;" and our
+hero looked so saucy and so resolute that there was no disputing
+further; so, after a little more lingering and blushing on Susan's part,
+and a few kisses and persuasions on the part of the suitor, Miss Susan
+seemed to be brought to a state of resignation.</p>
+
+<p>At a table in the middle of Uncle Enos's north front room were seated
+the two lawyers, whose legal opinion was that evening to be fully made
+up. The younger of these, 'Squire Moseley, was a rosy, portly, laughing
+little bachelor, who boasted that he had offered himself, in rotation,
+to every pretty girl within twenty miles round, and, among others, to
+Susan Jones, notwithstanding which he still remained a bachelor, with a
+fair prospect of being an old one; but none of these things disturbed
+the boundless flow of good nature and complacency with which he seemed
+at all times full to overflowing. On the present occasion he appeared to
+be particularly in his element, as if he had some law business in hand
+remarkably suited to his turn of mind; for, on finishing the inspection
+of the papers, he started up, slapped his graver brother on the back,
+made two or three flourishes round the room, and then seizing the old
+deacon's hand, shook it violently, exclaiming,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"All's right, deacon, all's right! Go it! go it! hurrah!"</p>
+
+<p>When Uncle Jaw entered, the deacon, without preface, handed him a chair
+and the papers, saying,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"These papers are what you wanted to see. I just wish you would read
+them over."</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Jaw read them deliberately over. "Didn't I tell ye so, deacon? The
+case is as clear as a bell: now ye will go to law, won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, Mr. Adams; now you have seen these papers, and heard what's
+to be said, I'll make you an offer. Let your son marry Susan Jones, and
+I'll burn these papers and say no more about it, and there won't be a
+girl in the parish with a finer portion."</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Jaw opened his eyes with amazement, and looked at the old man, his
+mouth gradually expanding wider and wider, as if he hoped, in time, to
+swallow the idea.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, now, I swan!" at length he ejaculated.</p>
+
+<p>"I mean just as I say," said the deacon.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, that's the same as giving the gal five hundred dollars out of your
+own pocket, and she ain't no relation neither."</p>
+
+<p>"I know it," said the deacon; "but I have said I will do it."</p>
+
+<p>"What upon 'arth for?" said Uncle Jaw.</p>
+
+<p>"To make peace," said the deacon, "and to let you know that when I say
+it is better to give up one's rights than to quarrel, I mean so. I am an
+old man; my children are dead"&mdash;his voice faltered&mdash;"my treasures are
+laid up in heaven; if I can make the children happy, why, I will. When I
+thought I had lost the land, I made up my mind to lose it, and so I can
+now."</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Jaw looked fixedly on the old deacon, and said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Well, deacon, I believe you. I vow, if you hain't got something ahead
+in t'other world, I'd like to know who has&mdash;that's all; so, if Joe has
+no objections, and I rather guess he won't have&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"The short of the matter is," said the squire, "we'll have a wedding; so
+come on;" and with that he threw open the parlor door, where stood Susan
+and Joseph in a recess by the window, while Silence and the Rev. Mr.
+Bissel were drawn up by the fire, and the deacon's lady was sweeping up
+the hearth, as she had been doing ever since the party arrived.</p>
+
+<p>Instantly Joseph took the hand of Susan, and led her to the middle of
+the room; the merry squire seized the hand of Miss Silence, and placed
+her as bridesmaid, and before any one knew what they were about, the
+ceremony was in actual progress, and the minister, having been
+previously instructed, made the two one with extraordinary celerity.</p>
+
+<p>"What! what! what!" said Uncle Jaw. "Joseph! Deacon!"</p>
+
+<p>"Fair bargain, sir," said the squire. "Hand over your papers, deacon."</p>
+
+<p>The deacon handed them, and the squire, having read them aloud,
+proceeded, with much ceremony, to throw them into the fire; after which,
+in a mock solemn oration, he gave a statement of the whole affair, and
+concluded with a grave exhortation to the new couple on the duties of
+wedlock, which unbent the risibles even of the minister himself.</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Jaw looked at his pretty daughter-in-law, who stood half smiling,
+half blushing, receiving the congratulations of the party, and then at
+Miss Silence, who appeared full as much taken by surprise as himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well, Miss Silence, these 'ere young folks have come round us
+slick enough," said he. "I don't see but we must shake hands upon it."
+And the warlike powers shook hands accordingly, which was a signal for
+general merriment.</p>
+
+<p>As the company were dispersing, Miss Silence laid hold of the good
+deacon, and by main strength dragged him aside. "Deacon," said she, "I
+take back all that 'ere I said about you, every word on't."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't say any more about it, Miss Silence," said the good man; "it's
+gone by, and let it go."</p>
+
+<p>"Joseph!" said his father, the next morning, as he was sitting at
+breakfast with Joseph and Susan, "I calculate I shall feel kinder proud
+of this 'ere gal! and I'll tell you what, I'll jest give you that nice
+little delicate Stanton place that I took on Stanton's mortgage: it's a
+nice little place, with green blinds, and flowers, and all them things,
+just right for Susan."</p>
+
+<p>And accordingly, many happy years flew over the heads of the young
+couple in the Stanton place, long after the hoary hairs of their kind
+benefactor, the deacon, were laid with reverence in the dust. Uncle Jaw
+was so far wrought upon by the magnanimity of the good old man as to be
+very materially changed for the better. Instead of quarrelling in real
+earnest all around the neighborhood, he confined himself merely to
+battling the opposite side of every question with his son, which, as the
+latter was somewhat of a logician, afforded a pretty good field for the
+exercise of his powers; and he was heard to declare at the funeral of
+the old deacon, that, "after all, a man got as much, and may be more, to
+go along as the deacon did, than to be all the time fisting and jawing;
+though I tell you what it is," said he, afterwards, "'tain't every one
+that has the deacon's <i>faculty</i>, any how."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_TEA_ROSE" id="THE_TEA_ROSE"></a>THE TEA ROSE.</h2>
+
+
+<p>There it stood, in its little green vase, on a light ebony stand, in the
+window of the drawing room. The rich satin curtains, with their costly
+fringes, swept down on either side of it, and around it glittered every
+rare and fanciful trifle which wealth can offer to luxury; and yet that
+simple rose was the fairest of them all. So pure it looked, its white
+leaves just touched with that delicious creamy tint peculiar to its
+kind; its cup so full, so perfect; its head bending as if it were
+sinking and melting away in its own richness&mdash;O, when did ever man make
+any thing to equal the living, perfect flower?</p>
+
+<p>But the sunlight that streamed through the window revealed something
+fairer than the rose. Reclined on an ottoman, in a deep recess, and
+intently engaged with a book, rested what seemed the counterpart of that
+so lovely flower. That cheek so pale, that fair forehead so spiritual,
+that countenance so full of high thought, those long, downcast lashes,
+and the expression of the beautiful mouth, sorrowful, yet subdued and
+sweet&mdash;it seemed like the picture of a dream.</p>
+
+<p>"Florence! Florence!" echoed a merry and musical voice, in a sweet,
+impatient tone. Turn your head, reader, and you will see a light and
+sparkling maiden, the very model of some little wilful elf, born of
+mischief and motion, with a dancing eye, a foot that scarcely seems to
+touch the carpet, and a smile so multiplied by dimples that it seems
+like a thousand smiles at once. "Come, Florence, I say," said the little
+sprite, "put down that wise, good, and excellent volume, and descend
+from your cloud, and talk with a poor little mortal."</p>
+
+<p>The fair apparition, thus adjured, obeyed; and, looking up, revealed
+just such eyes as you expected to see beneath such lids&mdash;eyes deep,
+pathetic, and rich as a strain of sad music.</p>
+
+<p>"I say, cousin," said the "bright ladye," "I have been thinking what you
+are to do with your pet rose when you go to New York, as, to our
+consternation, you are determined to do; you know it would be a sad pity
+to leave it with such a scatterbrain as I am. I do love flowers, that is
+a fact; that is, I like a regular bouquet, cut off and tied up, to carry
+to a party; but as to all this tending and fussing, which is needful to
+keep them growing, I have no gifts in that line."</p>
+
+<p>"Make yourself easy as to that, Kate," said Florence, with a smile; "I
+have no intention of calling upon your talents; I have an asylum in view
+for my favorite."</p>
+
+<p>"O, then you know just what I was going to say. Mrs. Marshall, I
+presume, has been speaking to you; she was here yesterday, and I was
+quite pathetic upon the subject, telling her the loss your favorite
+would sustain, and so forth; and she said how delighted she would be to
+have it in her greenhouse, it is in such a fine state now, so full of
+buds. I told her I knew you would like to give it to her, you are so
+fond of Mrs. Marshall, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Kate, I am sorry, but I have otherwise engaged it."</p>
+
+<p>"Whom can it be to? you have so few intimates here."</p>
+
+<p>"O, it is only one of my odd fancies."</p>
+
+<p>"But do tell me, Florence."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, cousin, you know the little pale girl to whom we give sewing."</p>
+
+<p>"What! little Mary Stephens? How absurd! Florence, this is just another
+of your motherly, oldmaidish ways&mdash;dressing dolls for poor children,
+making bonnets and knitting socks for all the little dirty babies in the
+region round about. I do believe you have made more calls in those two
+vile, ill-smelling alleys back of our house, than ever you have in
+Chestnut Street, though you know every body is half dying to see you;
+and now, to crown all, you must give this choice little bijou to a
+seamstress girl, when one of your most intimate friends, in your own
+class, would value it so highly. What in the world can people in their
+circumstances want of flowers?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just the same as I do," replied Florence, calmly. "Have you not noticed
+that the little girl never comes here without looking wistfully at the
+opening buds? And don't you remember, the other morning, she asked me so
+prettily if I would let her mother come and see it, she was so fond of
+flowers?"</p>
+
+<p>"But, Florence, only think of this rare flower standing on a table with
+ham, eggs, cheese, and flour, and stifled in that close little room
+where Mrs. Stephens and her daughter manage to wash, iron, cook, and
+nobody knows what besides."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Kate, and if I were obliged to live in one coarse room, and wash,
+and iron, and cook, as you say,&mdash;if I had to spend every moment of my
+time in toil, with no prospect from my window but a brick wall and dirty
+lane,&mdash;such a flower as this would be untold enjoyment to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Pshaw! Florence&mdash;all sentiment: poor people have no time to be
+sentimental. Besides, I don't believe it will grow with them; it is a
+greenhouse flower, and used to delicate living."</p>
+
+<p>"O, as to that, a flower never inquires whether its owner is rich or
+poor; and Mrs. Stephens, whatever else she has not, has sunshine of as
+good quality as this that streams through our window. The beautiful
+things that God makes are his gift to all alike. You will see that my
+fair rose will be as well and cheerful in Mrs. Stephens's room as in
+ours."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, after all, how odd! When one gives to poor people, one wants to
+give them something <i>useful</i>&mdash;a bushel of potatoes, a ham, and such
+things."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, certainly, potatoes and ham must be supplied; but, having
+ministered to the first and most craving wants, why not add any other
+little pleasures or gratifications we may have it in our power to
+bestow? I know there are many of the poor who have fine feeling and a
+keen sense of the beautiful, which rusts out and dies because they are
+too hard pressed to procure it any gratification. Poor Mrs. Stephens,
+for example: I know she would enjoy birds, and flowers, and music, as
+much as I do. I have seen her eye light up as she looked on these things
+in our drawing room, and yet not one beautiful thing can she command.
+From necessity, her room, her clothing, all she has, must be coarse and
+plain. You should have seen the almost rapture she and Mary felt when I
+offered them my rose."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear me! all this may be true, but I never thought of it before. I
+never thought that these hard-working people had any ideas of <i>taste</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"Then why do you see the geranium or rose so carefully nursed in the old
+cracked teapot in the poorest room, or the morning glory planted in a
+box and twined about the window? Do not these show that the human heart
+yearns for the beautiful in all ranks of life? You remember, Kate, how
+our washerwoman sat up a whole night, after a hard day's work, to make
+her first baby a pretty dress to be baptized in."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and I remember how I laughed at you for making such a tasteful
+little cap for it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Katy, I think the look of perfect delight with which the poor
+mother regarded her baby in its new dress and cap was something quite
+worth creating: I do believe she could not have felt more grateful if I
+had sent her a barrel of flour."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I never thought before of giving any thing to the poor but what
+they really needed, and I have always been willing to do that when I
+could without going far out of my way."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, cousin, if our heavenly Father gave to us after this mode, we
+should have only coarse, shapeless piles of provisions lying about the
+world, instead of all this beautiful variety of trees, and fruits, and
+flowers."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well, cousin, I suppose you are right&mdash;but have mercy on my poor
+head; it is too small to hold so many new ideas all at once&mdash;so go on
+your own way." And the little lady began practising a waltzing step
+before the glass with great satisfaction.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>It was a very small room, lighted by only one window. There was no
+carpet on the floor; there was a clean, but coarsely-covered bed in one
+corner; a cupboard, with a few dishes and plates, in the other; a chest
+of drawers; and before the window stood a small cherry stand, quite new,
+and, indeed, it was the only article in the room that seemed so.</p>
+
+<p>A pale, sickly-looking woman of about forty was leaning back in her
+rocking chair, her eyes closed and her lips compressed as if in pain.
+She rocked backward and forward a few minutes, pressed her hand hard
+upon her eyes, and then languidly resumed her fine stitching, on which
+she had been busy since morning. The door opened, and a slender little
+girl of about twelve years of age entered, her large blue eyes dilated
+and radiant with delight as she bore in the vase with the rose tree in
+it.</p>
+
+<p>"O, see, mother, see! Here is one in full bloom, and two more half out,
+and ever so many more pretty buds peeping out of the green leaves."</p>
+
+<p>The poor woman's face brightened as she looked, first on the rose and
+then on her sickly child, on whose face she had not seen so bright a
+color for months.</p>
+
+<p>"God bless her!" she exclaimed, unconsciously.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Florence&mdash;yes, I knew you would feel so, mother. Does it not make
+your head feel better to see such a beautiful flower? Now, you will not
+look so longingly at the flowers in the market, for we have a rose that
+is handsomer than any of them. Why, it seems to me it is worth as much
+to us as our whole little garden used to be. Only see how many buds
+there are! Just count them, and only smell the flower! Now, where shall
+we set it up?" And Mary skipped about, placing her flower first in one
+position and then in another, and walking off to see the effect, till
+her mother gently reminded her that the rose tree could not preserve its
+beauty without sunlight.</p>
+
+<p>"O, yes, truly," said Mary; "well, then, it must stand here on our new
+stand. How glad I am that we have such a handsome new stand for it! it
+will look so much better." And Mrs. Stephens laid down her work, and
+folded a piece of newspaper, on which the treasure was duly deposited.</p>
+
+<p>"There," said Mary, watching the arrangement eagerly, "that will do&mdash;no,
+for it does not show both the opening buds; a little farther around&mdash;a
+little more; there, that is right;" and then Mary walked around to view
+the rose in various positions, after which she urged her mother to go
+with her to the outside, and see how it looked there. "How kind it was
+in Miss Florence to think of giving this to us!" said Mary; "though she
+had done so much for us, and given us so many things, yet this seems the
+best of all, because it seems as if she thought of us, and knew just how
+we felt; and so few do that, you know, mother."</p>
+
+<p>What a bright afternoon that little gift made in that little room! How
+much faster Mary's fingers flew the livelong day as she sat sewing by
+her mother! and Mrs. Stephens, in the happiness of her child, almost
+forgot that she had a headache, and thought, as she sipped her evening
+cup of tea, that she felt stronger than she had done for some time.</p>
+
+<p>That rose! its sweet influence died not with the first day. Through all
+the long, cold winter, the watching, tending, cherishing that flower
+awakened a thousand pleasant trains of thought, that beguiled the
+sameness and weariness of their life. Every day the fair, growing thing
+put forth some fresh beauty&mdash;a leaf, a bud, a new shoot, and constantly
+awakened fresh enjoyment in its possessors. As it stood in the window,
+the passer by would sometimes stop and gaze, attracted by its beauty,
+and then proud and happy was Mary; nor did even the serious and
+care-worn widow notice with indifference this tribute to the beauty of
+their favorite.</p>
+
+<p>But little did Florence think, when she bestowed the gift, that there
+twined about it an invisible thread that reached far and brightly into
+the web of her destiny.</p>
+
+<p>One cold afternoon in early spring, a tall and graceful gentleman called
+at the lowly room to pay for the making of some linen by the inmates. He
+was a stranger and wayfarer, recommended through the charity of some of
+Mrs. Stephens's patrons. As he turned to go, his eye rested admiringly
+on the rose tree; and he stopped to gaze at it.</p>
+
+<p>"How beautiful!" said he.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said little Mary; "and it was given to us by a lady as sweet and
+beautiful as that is."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," said the stranger, turning upon her a pair of bright dark eyes,
+pleased and rather struck by the communication; "and how came she to
+give it to you, my little girl?"</p>
+
+<p>"O, because we are poor, and mother is sick, and we never can have any
+thing pretty. We used to have a garden once; and we loved flowers so
+much, and Miss Florence found it out, and so she gave us this."</p>
+
+<p>"Florence!" echoed the stranger.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Miss Florence L'Estrange&mdash;a beautiful lady. They say she was from
+foreign parts; but she speaks English just like other ladies, only
+sweeter."</p>
+
+<p>"Is she here now? is she in this city?" said the gentleman, eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"No; she left some months ago," said the widow, noticing the shade of
+disappointment on his face. "But," said she, "you can find out all about
+her at her aunt's, Mrs. Carlysle's, No. 10 &mdash;&mdash; Street."</p>
+
+<p>A short time after Florence received a letter in a handwriting that made
+her tremble. During the many early years of her life spent in France she
+had well learned to know that writing&mdash;had loved as a woman like her
+loves only once; but there had been obstacles of parents and friends,
+long separation, long suspense, till, after anxious years, she had
+believed the ocean had closed over that hand and heart; and it was this
+that had touched with such pensive sorrow the lines in her lovely face.</p>
+
+<p>But this letter told that he was living&mdash;that he had traced her, even as
+a hidden streamlet may be traced, by the freshness, the verdure of
+heart, which her deeds of kindness had left wherever she had passed.
+Thus much said, our readers need no help in finishing my story for
+themselves.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="TRIALS_OF_A_HOUSEKEEPER" id="TRIALS_OF_A_HOUSEKEEPER"></a>TRIALS OF A HOUSEKEEPER.</h2>
+
+
+<p>I have a detail of very homely grievances to present; but such as they
+are, many a heart will feel them to be heavy&mdash;<i>the trials of a
+housekeeper</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"Poh!" says one of the lords of creation, taking his cigar out of his
+mouth, and twirling it between his two first fingers, "what a fuss these
+women do make of this simple matter of <i>managing a family</i>! I can't see
+for my life as there is any thing so extraordinary to be done in this
+matter of housekeeping: only three meals a day to be got and cleared
+off&mdash;and it really seems to take up the whole of their mind from morning
+till night. <i>I</i> could keep house without so much of a flurry, I know."</p>
+
+<p>Now, prithee, good brother, listen to my story, and see how much you
+know about it. I came to this enlightened West about a year since, and
+was duly established in a comfortable country residence within a mile
+and a half of the city, and there commenced the enjoyment of domestic
+felicity. I had been married about three months, and had been previously
+<i>in love</i> in the most approved romantic way, with all the proprieties of
+moonlight walks, serenades, sentimental billets doux, and everlasting
+attachment.</p>
+
+<p>After having been allowed, as I said, about three months to get over
+this sort of thing, and to prepare for realities, I was located for life
+as aforesaid. My family consisted of myself and husband, a female friend
+as a visitor, and two brothers of my good man, who were engaged with him
+in business.</p>
+
+<p>I pass over the two or three first days, spent in that process of
+hammering boxes, breaking crockery, knocking things down and picking
+them up again, which is commonly called getting to housekeeping. As
+usual, carpets were sewed and stretched, laid down, and taken up to be
+sewed over; things were formed, and <i>re</i>formed, <i>trans</i>formed, and
+<i>con</i>formed, till at last a settled order began to appear. But now came
+up the great point of all. During our confusion we had cooked and eaten
+our meals in a very miscellaneous and pastoral manner, eating now from
+the top of a barrel and now from a fireboard laid on two chairs, and
+drinking, some from teacups, and some from saucers, and some from
+tumblers, and some from a pitcher big enough to be drowned in, and
+sleeping, some on sofas, and some on straggling beds and mattresses
+thrown down here and there wherever there was room. All these pleasant
+barbarities were now at an end. The house was in order, the dishes put
+up in their places; three regular meals were to be administered in one
+day, all in an orderly, civilized form; beds were to be made, rooms
+swept and dusted, dishes washed, knives scoured, and all the et cetera
+to be attended to. Now for getting "<i>help</i>," as Mrs. Trollope says; and
+where and how were we to get it? We knew very few persons in the city;
+and how were we to accomplish the matter? At length the "house of
+employment" was mentioned; and my husband was despatched thither
+regularly every day for a week, while I, in the mean time, was very
+nearly <i>despatched</i> by the abundance of work at home. At length, one
+evening, as I was sitting completely exhausted, thinking of resorting to
+the last feminine expedient for supporting life, viz., a good fit of
+crying, my husband made his appearance, with a most triumphant air, at
+the door. "There, Margaret, I have got you a couple at last&mdash;cook and
+chambermaid." So saying, he flourished open the door, and gave to my
+view the picture of a little, dry, snuffy-looking old woman, and a
+great, staring Dutch girl, in a green bonnet with red ribbons, with
+mouth wide open, and hands and feet that would have made a Greek
+sculptor open <i>his</i> mouth too. I addressed forthwith a few words of
+encouragement to each of this cultivated-looking couple, and proceeded
+to ask their names; and forthwith the old woman began to snuffle and to
+wipe her face with what was left of an old silk pocket handkerchief
+preparatory to speaking, while the young lady opened her mouth wider,
+and looked around with a frightened air, as if meditating an escape.
+After some preliminaries, however, I found out that my old woman was
+Mrs. Tibbins, and my Hebe's name was <i>Kotterin;</i> also, that she knew
+much more Dutch than English, and not any too much of either. The old
+lady was the cook. I ventured a few inquiries. "Had she ever cooked?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am, sartain; she had lived at two or three places in the city."</p>
+
+<p>"I suspect, my dear," said my husband confidently, "that she is an
+experienced cook, and so your troubles are over;" and he went to reading
+his newspaper. I said no more, but determined to wait till morning. The
+breakfast, to be sure, did not do much honor to the talents of my
+official; but it was the first time, and the place was new to her. After
+breakfast was cleared away I proceeded to give directions for dinner; it
+was merely a plain joint of meat, I said, to be roasted in the tin oven.
+The <i>experienced cook</i> looked at me with a stare of entire vacuity. "The
+tin oven," I repeated, "stands there," pointing to it.</p>
+
+<p>She walked up to it, and touched it with such an appearance of suspicion
+as if it had been an electrical battery, and then looked round at me
+with a look of such helpless ignorance that my soul was moved. "I never
+see one of them things before," said she.</p>
+
+<p>"Never saw a tin oven!" I exclaimed. "I thought you said you had cooked
+in two or three families."</p>
+
+<p>"They does not have such things as them, though," rejoined my old lady.
+Nothing was to be done, of course, but to instruct her into the
+philosophy of the case; and having spitted the joint, and given
+numberless directions, I walked off to my room to superintend the
+operations of Kotterin, to whom I had committed the making of my bed and
+the sweeping of my room, it never having come into my head that there
+<i>could be</i> a wrong way of making a bed; and to this day it is a marvel
+to me how any one could arrange pillows and quilts to make such a
+nondescript appearance as mine now presented. One glance showed me that
+Kotterin also was "<i>just caught</i>," and that I had as much to do in her
+department as in that of my old lady.</p>
+
+<p>Just then the door bell rang. "O, there is the door bell," I exclaimed.
+"Run, Kotterin, and show them into the parlor."</p>
+
+<p>Kotterin started to run, as directed, and then stopped, and stood
+looking round on all the doors and on me with a wofully puzzled air.
+"The street door," said I, pointing towards the entry. Kotterin
+blundered into the entry, and stood gazing with a look of stupid wonder
+at the bell ringing without hands, while I went to the door and let in
+the company before she could be fairly made to understand the connection
+between the ringing and the phenomenon of admission.</p>
+
+<p>As dinner time approached, I sent word into my kitchen to have it set
+on; but, recollecting the state of the heads of department there, I soon
+followed my own orders. I found the tin oven standing out in the middle
+of the kitchen, and my cook seated <i>à la Turc</i> in front of it,
+contemplating the roast meat with full as puzzled an air as in the
+morning. I once more explained the mystery of taking it off, and
+assisted her to get it on to the platter, though somewhat cooled by
+having been so long set out for inspection. I was standing holding the
+spit in my hands, when Kotterin, who had heard the door bell ring, and
+was determined this time to be in season, ran into the hall, and soon
+returning, opened the kitchen door, and politely ushered in three or
+four fashionable looking ladies, exclaiming, "Here she is." As these
+were strangers from the city, who had come to make their first call,
+this introduction was far from proving an eligible one&mdash;the look of
+thunderstruck astonishment with which I greeted their first appearance,
+as I stood brandishing the spit, and the terrified snuffling and staring
+of poor Mrs. Tibbins, who again had recourse to her old pocket
+handkerchief, almost entirely vanquished their gravity, and it was
+evident that they were on the point of a broad laugh; so, recovering my
+self-possession, I apologized, and led the way to the parlor.</p>
+
+<p>Let these few incidents be a specimen of the four mortal weeks that I
+spent with these "<i>helps</i>," during which time I did almost as much work,
+with twice as much anxiety, as when there was nobody there; and yet
+every thing went wrong besides. The young gentlemen complained of the
+patches of starch grimed to their collars, and the streaks of black coal
+ironed into their dickies, while one week every pocket handkerchief in
+the house was starched so stiff that you might as well have carried an
+earthen plate in your pocket; the tumblers looked muddy; the plates were
+never washed clean or wiped dry unless I attended to each one; and as to
+eating and drinking, we experienced a variety that we had not before
+considered possible.</p>
+
+<p>At length the old woman vanished from the stage, and was succeeded by a
+knowing, active, capable damsel, with a temper like a steel-trap, who
+remained with me just one week, and then went off in a fit of spite. To
+her succeeded a rosy, good-natured, merry lass, who broke the crockery,
+burned the dinner, tore the clothes in ironing, and knocked down every
+thing that stood in her way about the house, without at all discomposing
+herself about the matter. One night she took the stopper from a barrel
+of molasses, and came singing off up stairs, while the molasses ran
+soberly out into the cellar bottom all night, till by morning it was in
+a state of universal emancipation. Having done this, and also despatched
+an entire set of tea things by letting the waiter fall, she one day made
+her disappearance.</p>
+
+<p>Then, for a wonder, there fell to my lot a tidy, efficient-trained
+English girl; pretty, and genteel, and neat, and knowing how to do every
+thing, and with the sweetest temper in the world. "Now," said I to
+myself, "I shall <i>rest</i> from my labors." Every thing about the house
+began to go right, and looked as clean and genteel as Mary's own pretty
+self. But, alas! this period of repose was interrupted by the vision of
+a clever, trim-looking young man, who for some weeks could be heard
+scraping his boots at the kitchen door every Sunday night; and at last
+Miss Mary, with some smiling and blushing, gave me to understand that
+she must leave in two weeks.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Mary," said I, feeling a little mischievous, "don't you like the
+place?"</p>
+
+<p>"O, yes, ma'am."</p>
+
+<p>"Then why do you look for another?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am not going to another place."</p>
+
+<p>"What, Mary, are you going to learn a trade?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, ma'am."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, then, what do you mean to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"I expect to keep house <i>myself</i>, ma'am," said she, laughing and
+blushing.</p>
+
+<p>"O ho!" said I, "that is it;" and so, in two weeks, I lost the best
+little girl in the world: peace to her memory.</p>
+
+<p>After this came an interregnum, which put me in mind of the chapter in
+Chronicles that I used to read with great delight when a child, where
+Basha, and Elah, and Tibni, and Zimri, and Omri, one after the other,
+came on to the throne of Israel, all in the compass of half a dozen
+verses. We had one old woman, who staid a week, and went away with the
+misery in her tooth; one <i>young</i> woman, who ran away and got married;
+one cook, who came at night and went off before light in the morning;
+one very clever girl, who staid a month, and then went away because her
+mother was sick; another, who staid six weeks, and was taken with the
+fever herself; and during all this time, who can speak the damage and
+destruction wrought in the domestic paraphernalia by passing through
+these multiplied hands?</p>
+
+<p>What shall we do? Shall we give up houses, have no furniture to take
+care of, keep merely a bag of meal, a porridge pot, and a pudding stick,
+and sit in our tent door in real patriarchal independence? What shall we
+do?</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="LITTLE_EDWARD" id="LITTLE_EDWARD"></a>LITTLE EDWARD.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Were any of you born in New England, in the good old catechizing,
+church-going, school-going, orderly times? If so, you may have seen my
+Uncle Abel; the most perpendicular, rectangular, upright, downright good
+man that ever labored six days and rested on the seventh.</p>
+
+<p>You remember his hard, weather-beaten countenance, where every line
+seemed drawn with "a pen of iron and the point of a diamond;" his
+considerate gray eyes, that moved over objects as if it were not best to
+be in a hurry about seeing; the circumspect opening and shutting of the
+mouth; his down-sitting and up-rising, all performed with conviction
+aforethought&mdash;in short, the whole ordering of his life and conversation,
+which was, according to the tenor of the military order, "to the right
+about face&mdash;forward, march!"</p>
+
+<p>Now, if you supposed, from all this triangularism of exterior, that this
+good man had nothing kindly within, you were much mistaken. You often
+find the greenest grass under a snowdrift; and though my uncle's mind
+was not exactly of the flower garden kind, still there was an abundance
+of wholesome and kindly vegetation there.</p>
+
+<p>It is true, he seldom laughed, and never joked himself; but no man had a
+more serious and weighty conviction of what a good joke was in another;
+and when some exceeding witticism was dispensed in his presence, you
+might see Uncle Abel's face slowly relax into an expression of solemn
+satisfaction, and he would look at the author with a sort of quiet
+wonder, as if it was past his comprehension how such a thing could ever
+come into a man's head.</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Abel, too, had some relish for the fine arts; in proof of which, I
+might adduce the pleasure with which he gazed at the plates in his
+family Bible, the likeness whereof is neither in heaven, nor on earth,
+nor under the earth. And he was also such an eminent musician, that he
+could go through the singing book at one sitting without the least
+fatigue, beating time like a windmill all the way.</p>
+
+<p>He had, too, a liberal hand, though his liberality was all by the rule
+of three. He did by his neighbor exactly as he would be done by; he
+loved some things in this world very sincerely: he loved his God much,
+but he honored and feared him more; he was exact with others, he was
+more exact with himself, and he expected his God to be more exact still.</p>
+
+<p>Every thing in Uncle Abel's house was in the same time, place, manner,
+and form, from year's end to year's end. There was old Master Bose, a
+dog after my uncle's own heart, who always walked as if he was studying
+the multiplication table. There was the old clock, forever ticking in
+the kitchen corner, with a picture on its face of the sun, forever
+setting behind a perpendicular row of poplar trees. There was the
+never-failing supply of red peppers and onions hanging over the chimney.
+There, too, were the yearly hollyhocks and morning-glories blooming
+about the windows. There was the "best room," with its sanded floor, the
+cupboard in one corner with its glass doors, the ever green asparagus
+bushes in the chimney, and there was the stand with the Bible and
+almanac on it in another corner. There, too, was Aunt Betsey, who never
+looked any older, because she always looked as old as she could; who
+always dried her catnip and wormwood the last of September, and began to
+clean house the first of May. In short, this was the land of
+continuance. Old Time never took it into his head to practise either
+addition, or subtraction, or multiplication on its sum total.</p>
+
+<p>This Aunt Betsey aforenamed was the neatest and most efficient piece of
+human machinery that ever operated in forty places at once. She was
+always every where, predominating over and seeing to every thing; and
+though my uncle had been twice married, Aunt Betsey's rule and authority
+had never been broken. She reigned over his wives when living, and
+reigned after them when dead, and so seemed likely to reign on to the
+end of the chapter. But my uncle's latest wife left Aunt Betsey a much
+less tractable subject than ever before had fallen to her lot. Little
+Edward was the child of my uncle's old age, and a brighter, merrier
+little blossom never grew on the verge of an avalanche. He had been
+committed to the nursing of his grandmamma till he had arrived at the
+age of <i>in</i>discretion, and then my old uncle's heart so yearned for him
+that he was sent for home.</p>
+
+<p>His introduction into the family excited a terrible sensation. Never was
+there such a condemner of dignities, such a violator of high places and
+sanctities, as this very Master Edward. It was all in vain to try to
+teach him decorum. He was the most outrageously merry elf that ever
+shook a head of curls; and it was all the same to him whether it was
+"<i>Sabba' day</i>" or any other day. He laughed and frolicked with every
+body and every thing that came in his way, not even excepting his solemn
+old father; and when you saw him, with his fair arms around the old
+man's neck, and his bright blue eyes and blooming cheek peering out
+beside the bleak face of Uncle Abel, you might fancy you saw spring
+caressing winter. Uncle Abel's metaphysics were sorely puzzled by this
+sparkling, dancing compound of spirit and matter; nor could he devise
+any method of bringing it into any reasonable shape, for he did mischief
+with an energy and perseverance that was truly astonishing. Once he
+scoured the floor with Aunt Betsey's very Scotch snuff; once he washed
+up the hearth with Uncle Abel's most immaculate clothes brush; and once
+he was found trying to make Bose wear his father's spectacles. In short,
+there was no use, except the right one, to which he did not put every
+thing that came in his way.</p>
+
+<p>But Uncle Abel was most of all puzzled to know what to do with him on
+the Sabbath, for on that day Master Edward seemed to exert himself to be
+particularly diligent and entertaining.</p>
+
+<p>"Edward! Edward must not play Sunday!" his father would call out; and
+then Edward would hold up his curly head, and look as grave as the
+catechism; but in three minutes you would see "pussy" scampering through
+the "best room," with Edward at her heels, to the entire discomposure of
+all devotion in Aunt Betsey and all others in authority.</p>
+
+<p>At length my uncle came to the conclusion that "it wasn't in natur' to
+teach him any better," and that "he could no more keep Sunday than the
+brook down in the lot." My poor uncle! he did not know what was the
+matter with his heart, but certain it was, he lost all faculty of
+scolding when little Edward was in the case, and he would rub his
+spectacles a quarter of an hour longer than common when Aunt Betsey was
+detailing his witticisms and clever doings.</p>
+
+<p>In process of time our hero had compassed his third year, and arrived at
+the dignity of going to school. He went illustriously through the
+spelling book, and then attacked the catechism; went from "man's chief
+end" to the "requirin's and forbiddin's" in a fortnight, and at last
+came home inordinately merry, to tell his father that he had got to
+"Amen." After this, he made a regular business of saying over the whole
+every Sunday evening, standing with his hands folded in front and his
+checked apron folded down, occasionally glancing round to see if pussy
+gave proper attention. And, being of a practically benevolent turn of
+mind, he made several commendable efforts to teach Bose the catechism,
+in which he succeeded as well as might be expected. In short, without
+further detail, Master Edward bade fair to become a literary wonder.</p>
+
+<p>But alas for poor little Edward! his merry dance was soon over. A day
+came when he sickened. Aunt Betsey tried her whole herbarium, but in
+vain: he grew rapidly worse and worse. His father sickened in heart, but
+said nothing; he only staid by his bedside day and night, trying all
+means to save, with affecting pertinacity.</p>
+
+<p>"Can't you think of any thing more, doctor?" said he to the physician,
+when all had been tried in vain.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing," answered the physician.</p>
+
+<p>A momentary convulsion passed over my uncle's face. "The will of the
+Lord be done," said he, almost with a groan of anguish.</p>
+
+<p>Just at that moment a ray of the setting sun pierced the checked
+curtains, and gleamed like an angel's smile across the face of the
+little sufferer. He woke from troubled sleep.</p>
+
+<p>"O, dear! I am so sick!" he gasped, feebly. His father raised him in his
+arms; he breathed easier, and looked up with a grateful smile. Just then
+his old playmate, the cat, crossed the room. "There goes pussy," said
+he; "O, dear! I shall never play any more."</p>
+
+<p>At that moment a deadly change passed over his face. He looked up in his
+father's face with an imploring expression, and put out his hand as if
+for help. There was one moment of agony, and then the sweet features all
+settled into a smile of peace, and "mortality was swallowed up of life."</p>
+
+<p>My uncle laid him down, and looked one moment at his beautiful face. It
+was too much for his principles, too much for his consistency, and "he
+lifted up his voice and wept."</p>
+
+<p>The next morning was the Sabbath&mdash;the funeral day&mdash;and it rose with
+"breath all incense and with cheek all bloom." Uncle Abel was as calm
+and collected as ever; but in his face there was a sorrow-stricken
+appearance touching to behold. I remember him at family prayers, as he
+bent over the great Bible and began the psalm, "Lord, thou hast been our
+dwelling-place in all generations." Apparently he was touched by the
+melancholy splendor of the poetry, for after reading a few verses he
+stopped. There was a dead silence, interrupted only by the tick of the
+clock. He cleared his voice repeatedly, and tried to go on, but in vain.
+He closed the book, and kneeled down to prayer. The energy of sorrow
+broke through his usual formal reverence, and his language flowed forth
+with a deep and sorrowful pathos which I shall never forget. The God so
+much reverenced, so much feared, seemed to draw near to him as a friend
+and comforter, his refuge and strength, "a very present help in time of
+trouble."</p>
+
+<p>My uncle rose, and I saw him walk to the room of the departed one. He
+uncovered the face. It was set with the seal of death; but O, how
+surpassingly lovely! The brilliancy of life was gone, but that pure,
+transparent face was touched with a mysterious, triumphant brightness,
+which seemed like the dawning of heaven.</p>
+
+<p>My uncle looked long and earnestly. He felt the beauty of what he gazed
+on; his heart was softened, but he had no words for his feelings. He
+left the room unconsciously, and stood in the front door. The morning
+was bright, the bells were ringing for church, the birds were singing
+merrily, and the pet squirrel of little Edward was frolicking about the
+door. My uncle watched him as he ran first up one tree, and then down
+and up another, and then over the fence, whisking his brush and
+chattering just as if nothing was the matter.</p>
+
+<p>With a deep sigh Uncle Abel broke forth, "How happy that <i>cretur'</i> is!
+Well, the Lord's will be done."</p>
+
+<p>That day the dust was committed to dust, amid the lamentations of all
+who had known little Edward. Years have passed since then, and all that
+is mortal of my uncle has long since been gathered to his fathers; but
+his just and upright spirit has entered the glorious liberty of the sons
+of God. Yes, the good man may have had opinions which the philosophical
+scorn, weaknesses at which the thoughtless smile; but death shall change
+him into all that is enlightened, wise, and refined; for he shall awake
+in "His" likeness, and "be satisfied."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="AUNT_MARY" id="AUNT_MARY"></a>AUNT MARY.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Since sketching character is the mode, I too take up my pencil, not to
+make you laugh, though peradventure it may be&mdash;to get you to sleep.</p>
+
+<p>I am now a tolerably old gentleman&mdash;an old bachelor, moreover&mdash;and, what
+is more to the point, an unpretending and sober-minded one. Lest,
+however, any of the ladies should take exceptions against me in the very
+outset, I will merely remark, <i>en passant</i>, that a man can sometimes
+become an old bachelor because he has <i>too much</i> heart as well as too
+little.</p>
+
+<p>Years ago&mdash;before any of my readers were born&mdash;I was a little
+good-for-nought of a boy, of precisely that unlucky kind who are always
+in every body's way, and always in mischief. I had, to watch over my
+uprearing, a father and mother, and a whole army of older brothers and
+sisters. My relatives bore a very great resemblance to other human
+beings, neither good angels nor the opposite class, but, as
+mathematicians say, "in the mean proportion."</p>
+
+<p>As I have before insinuated, I was a sort of family scape-grace among
+them, and one on whose head all the domestic trespasses were regularly
+visited, either by real, actual desert or by imputation.</p>
+
+<p>For this order of things, there was, I confess, a very solid and serious
+foundation, in the constitution of my mind. Whether I was born under
+some cross-eyed planet, or whether I was fairy-smitten in my cradle,
+certain it is that I was, from the dawn of existence, a sort of "Murad
+the Unlucky;" an out-of-time, out-of-place, out-of-form sort of a boy,
+with whom nothing prospered.</p>
+
+<p>Who always left open doors in cold weather? It was Henry. Who was sure
+to upset his coffee cup at breakfast, or to knock over his tumbler at
+dinner, or to prostrate saltcellar, pepper box, and mustard pot, if he
+only happened to move his arm? Why, Henry. Who was plate breaker general
+for the family? It was Henry. Who tangled mamma's silks and cottons, and
+tore up the last newspaper for papa, or threw down old Ph[oe]be's
+clothes horse, with all her clean ironing thereupon? Why, Henry.</p>
+
+<p>Now all this was no "malice prepense" in me, for I solemnly believe that
+I was the best-natured boy in the world; but something was the matter
+with the attraction of cohesion, or the attraction of gravitation&mdash;with
+the general dispensation of matter around me&mdash;that, let me do what I
+would, things would fall down, and break, or be torn and damaged, if I
+only came near them; and my unluckiness in any matter seemed in exact
+proportion to my carefulness.</p>
+
+<p>If any body in the room with me had a headache, or any kind of nervous
+irritability, which made it particularly necessary for others to be
+quiet, and if I was in an especial desire unto the same, I was sure,
+while stepping around on tiptoe, to fall headlong over a chair, which
+would give an introductory push to the shovel, which would fall upon the
+tongs, which would animate the poker, and all together would set in
+action two or three sticks of wood, and down they would come together,
+with just that hearty, sociable sort of racket, which showed that they
+were disposed to make as much of the opportunity as possible.</p>
+
+<p>In the same manner, every thing that came into my hand, or was at all
+connected with me, was sure to lose by it. If I rejoiced in a clean
+apron in the morning, I was sure to make a full-length prostration
+thereupon on my way to school, and come home nothing better, but rather
+worse. If I was sent on an errand, I was sure either to lose my money in
+going, or my purchases in returning; and on these occasions my mother
+would often comfort me with the reflection, that it was well that my
+ears were fastened to my head, or I should lose them too. Of course, I
+was a fair mark for the exhortatory powers, not only of my parents, but
+of all my aunts, uncles, and cousins, to the third and fourth
+generation, who ceased not to reprove, rebuke, and exhort with all
+long-suffering and doctrine.</p>
+
+<p>All this would have been very well if nature had not gifted me with a
+very unnecessary and uncomfortable capacity of <i>feeling</i>, which, like a
+refined ear for music, is undesirable, because, in this world, one meets
+with discord ninety-nine times where it meets with harmony once. Much,
+therefore, as I furnished occasion to be scolded at, I never became
+<i>used</i> to scolding, so that I was just as much galled by it the
+<i>forty</i>-first time as the first. There was no such thing as philosophy
+in me: I had just that unreasonable heart which is not conformed unto
+the nature of things, neither indeed <i>can</i> be. I was timid, and
+shrinking, and proud; I was nothing to any one around me but an awkward,
+unlucky boy; nothing to my parents but one of half a dozen children,
+whose faces were to be washed and stockings mended on Saturday
+afternoon. If I was very sick, I had medicine and the doctor; if I was a
+little sick, I was exhorted unto patience; and if I was sick at heart, I
+was left to prescribe for myself.</p>
+
+<p>Now, all this was very well: what should a child need but meat, and
+drink, and room to play, and a school to teach him reading and writing,
+and somebody to take care of him when sick? Certainly, nothing.</p>
+
+<p>But the feelings of grown-up children exist in the mind of little ones
+oftener than is supposed; and I had, even at this early day, the same
+keen sense of all that touched the heart wrong; the same longing for
+something which should touch it aright; the same discontent, with
+latent, matter-of-course affection, and the same craving for sympathy,
+which has been the unprofitable fashion of this world in all ages. And
+no human being possessing such constitutionals has a better chance of
+being made unhappy by them than the backward, uninteresting, wrong-doing
+child. We can all sympathize, to some extent, with <i>men</i> and <i>women</i>;
+but how few can go back to the sympathies of childhood; can understand
+the desolate insignificance of not being one of the <i>grown-up</i> people;
+of being sent to bed, to be <i>out of the way</i> in the evening, and to
+school, to be out of the way in the morning; of manifold similar
+grievances and distresses, which the child has no elocution to set
+forth, and the grown person no imagination to conceive.</p>
+
+<p>When I was seven years old, I was told one morning, with considerable
+domestic acclamation, that Aunt Mary was coming to make us a visit; and
+so, when the carriage that brought her stopped at our door, I pulled off
+my dirty apron, and ran in among the crowd of brothers and sisters to
+see what was coming. I shall not describe her first appearance, for, as
+I think of her, I begin to grow somewhat sentimental, in spite of my
+spectacles, and might, perhaps, talk a little nonsense.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps every man, whether married or unmarried, who has lived to the
+age of fifty or thereabouts, has seen some woman who, in his mind, is
+<i>the</i> woman, in distinction from all others. She may not have been a
+relative; she may not have been a wife; she may simply have shone on him
+from afar; she may be remembered in the distance of years as a star that
+is set, as music that is hushed, as beauty and loveliness faded forever;
+but <i>remembered</i> she is with interest, with fervor, with enthusiasm;
+with all that heart can feel, and more than words can tell.</p>
+
+<p>To me there has been but one such, and that is she whom I describe. "Was
+she beautiful?" you ask. I also will ask you one question: "If an angel
+from heaven should dwell in human form, and animate any human face,
+would not that face be lovely? It might not be <i>beautiful</i>, but would it
+not be lovely?" She was not beautiful except after this fashion.</p>
+
+<p>How well I remember her, as she used sometimes to sit thinking, with her
+head resting on her hand, her face mild and placid, with a quiet October
+sunshine in her blue eyes, and an ever-present smile over her whole
+countenance. I remember the sudden sweetness of look when any one spoke
+to her; the prompt attention, the quick comprehension of things before
+you uttered them, the obliging readiness to leave for you whatever she
+was doing.</p>
+
+<p>To those who mistake occasional pensiveness for melancholy, it might
+seem strange to say that my Aunt Mary was always happy. Yet she was so.
+Her spirits never rose to buoyancy, and never sunk to despondency. I
+know that it is an article in the sentimental confession of faith that
+such a character cannot be interesting. For this impression there is
+some ground. The placidity of a medium commonplace mind is
+uninteresting, but the placidity of a strong and well-governed one
+borders on the sublime. Mutability of emotion characterizes inferior
+orders of being; but He who combines all interest, all excitement, all
+perfection, is "the same yesterday, to-day, and forever." And if there
+be any thing sublime in the idea of an almighty mind, in perfect peace
+itself, and, therefore, at leisure to bestow all its energies on the
+wants of others, there is at least a reflection of the same sublimity in
+the character of that human being who has so quieted and governed the
+world within, that nothing is left to absorb sympathy or distract
+attention from those around.</p>
+
+<p>Such a woman was my Aunt Mary. Her placidity was not so much the result
+of temperament as of choice. She had every susceptibility of suffering
+incident to the noblest and most delicate construction of mind; but they
+had been so directed, that, instead of concentrating thought on self,
+they had prepared her to understand and feel for others.</p>
+
+<p>She was, beyond all things else, a sympathetic person, and her
+character, like the green in a landscape, was less remarkable for what
+it was in itself than for its perfect and beautiful harmony with all the
+coloring and shading around it.</p>
+
+<p>Other women have had talents, others have been good; but no woman that
+ever I knew possessed goodness and talent in union with such an
+intuitive perception of feelings, and such a faculty of instantaneous
+adaptation to them. The most troublesome thing in this world is to be
+condemned to the society of a person who can never understand any thing
+you say unless you say the whole of it, making your commas and periods
+as you go along; and the most desirable thing in the world is to live
+with a person who saves you all the trouble of talking, by knowing just
+what you mean before you begin to speak.</p>
+
+<p>Something of this kind of talent I began to feel, to my great relief,
+when Aunt Mary came into the family. I remember the very first evening,
+as she sat by the hearth, surrounded by all the family, her eye glanced
+on me with an expression that let me know she <i>saw</i> me; and when the
+clock struck eight, and my mother proclaimed that it was my bedtime, my
+countenance fell as I moved sorrowfully from the back of her rocking
+chair, and thought how many beautiful stories Aunt Mary would tell after
+I was gone to bed. She turned towards me with such a look of real
+understanding, such an evident insight into the case, that I went into
+banishment with a lighter heart than ever I did before. How very
+contrary is the obstinate estimate of the heart to the rational estimate
+of worldly wisdom! Are there not some who can remember when one word,
+one look, or even the withholding of a word, has drawn their heart more
+to a person than all the substantial favors in the world? By ordinary
+acceptation, substantial kindness respects the necessaries of animal
+existence; while those wants which are peculiar to mind, and will exist
+with it forever, by equally correct classification, are designated as
+sentimental ones, the supply of which, though it will excite more
+gratitude in fact, ought not to in theory. Before Aunt Mary had lived
+with us a month, I loved her beyond any body in the world; and a
+utilitarian would have been amused in ciphering out the amount of favors
+which produced this result. It was a look&mdash;a word&mdash;a smile: it was that
+she seemed pleased with my new kite; that she rejoiced with me when I
+learned to spin a top; that she alone seemed to estimate my proficiency
+in playing ball and marbles; that she never looked at all vexed when I
+upset her workbox upon the floor; that she received all my awkward
+gallantry and <i>mal-adroit</i> helpfulness as if it had been in the best
+taste in the world; that when she was sick, she insisted on letting me
+wait on her, though I made my customary havoc among the pitchers and
+tumblers of her room, and displayed, through my zeal to please, a more
+than ordinary share of insufficiency for the station. She also was the
+only person that ever I <i>conversed</i> with, and I used to wonder how any
+body who could talk all about matters and things with grown-up persons
+could talk so sensibly about marbles, and hoops, and skates, and all
+sorts of little-boy matters; and I will say, by the by, that the same
+sort of speculation has often occurred to the minds of older people in
+connection with her. She knew the value of varied information in making
+a woman, not a pedant, but a sympathetic, companionable being; and such
+she was to almost every class of mind.</p>
+
+<p>She had, too, the faculty of drawing others up to her level in
+conversation, so that I would often find myself going on in most
+profound style while talking with her, and would wonder, when I was
+through, whether I was really a little boy still.</p>
+
+<p>When she had enlightened us many months, the time came for her to take
+leave, and she besought my mother to give me to her for company. All the
+family wondered what she could find to like in Henry; but if she did
+like me, it was no matter, and so was the case disposed of.</p>
+
+<p>From that time I <i>lived</i> with her&mdash;and there are some persons who can
+make the word <i>live</i> signify much more than it commonly does&mdash;and she
+wrought on my character all those miracles which benevolent genius can
+work. She quieted my heart, directed my feelings, unfolded my mind, and
+educated me, not harshly or by force, but as the blessed sunshine
+educates the flower, into full and perfect life; and when all that was
+mortal of her died to this world, her words and deeds of unutterable
+love shed a twilight around her memory that will fade only in the
+brightness of heaven.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="FRANKNESS" id="FRANKNESS"></a>FRANKNESS.</h2>
+
+
+<p>There is one kind of frankness, which is the result of perfect
+unsuspiciousness, and which requires a measure of ignorance of the world
+and of life: this kind appeals to our generosity and tenderness. There
+is another, which is the frankness of a strong but pure mind, acquainted
+with life, clear in its discrimination and upright in its intention, yet
+above disguise or concealment: this kind excites respect. The first
+seems to proceed simply from impulse, the second from impulse and
+reflection united; the first proceeds, in a measure, from ignorance, the
+second from knowledge; the first is born from an undoubting confidence
+in others, the second from a virtuous and well-grounded reliance on
+one's self.</p>
+
+<p>Now, if you suppose that this is the beginning of a sermon or of a
+fourth of July oration, you are very much mistaken, though, I must
+confess, it hath rather an uncertain sound. I merely prefaced it to a
+little sketch of character, which you may look at if you please, though
+I am not sure you will like it.</p>
+
+<p>It was said of Alice H. that she had the mind of a man, the heart of a
+woman, and the face of an angel&mdash;a combination that all my readers will
+think peculiarly happy.</p>
+
+<p>There never was a woman who was so unlike the mass of society in her
+modes of thinking and acting, yet so generally popular. But the most
+remarkable thing about her was her proud superiority to all disguise, in
+thought, word, and deed. She pleased you; for she spoke out a hundred
+things that you would conceal, and spoke them with a dignified assurance
+that made you wonder that you had ever hesitated to say them yourself.
+Nor did this unreserve appear like the weakness of one who could not
+conceal, or like a determination to make war on the forms of society. It
+was rather a calm, well-guided integrity, regulated by a just sense of
+propriety; knowing when to be silent, but speaking the truth when it
+spoke at all.</p>
+
+<p>Her extraordinary frankness often beguiled superficial observers into
+supposing themselves fully acquainted with her long before they were so,
+as the beautiful transparency of some lakes is said to deceive the eye
+as to their depth; yet the longer you knew her, the more variety and
+compass of character appeared through the same transparent medium. But
+you may just visit Miss Alice for half an hour to-night, and judge for
+yourselves. You may walk into this little parlor. There sits Miss Alice
+on that sofa, sewing a pair of lace sleeves into a satin dress, in which
+peculiarly angelic employment she may persevere till we have finished
+another sketch.</p>
+
+<p>Do you see that pretty little lady, with sparkling eyes, elastic form,
+and beautiful hand and foot, sitting opposite to her? She is a belle:
+the character is written in her face&mdash;it sparkles from her eye&mdash;it
+dimples in her smile, and pervades the whole woman.</p>
+
+<p>But there&mdash;Alice has risen, and is gone to the mirror, and is arranging
+the finest auburn hair in the world in the most tasteful manner. The
+little lady watches every motion as comically as a kitten watches a
+pin-ball.</p>
+
+<p>"It is all in vain to deny it, Alice&mdash;you are really anxious to <i>look
+pretty</i> this evening," said she.</p>
+
+<p>"I certainly am," said Alice, quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, and you hope you shall please Mr. A. and Mr. B.," said the little
+accusing angel.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly I do," said Alice, as she twisted her fingers in a beautiful
+curl.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I would not tell of it, Alice, if I did."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you should not ask me," said Alice.</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>declare</i>! Alice!"</p>
+
+<p>"And what do you declare?"</p>
+
+<p>"I never saw such a girl as you are!"</p>
+
+<p>"Very likely," said Alice, stooping to pick up a pin.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, for <i>my</i> part," said the little lady, "I never would take any
+pains to make any body like me&mdash;<i>particularly</i> a gentleman."</p>
+
+<p>"I would," said Alice, "if they would not like me without."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Alice! I should not think you were so fond of admiration."</p>
+
+<p>"I like to be admired very much," said Alice, returning to the sofa,
+"and I suppose every body else does."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I</i> don't care about admiration," said the little lady. "I would be as
+well satisfied that people shouldn't like me as that they should."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, cousin, I think it's a pity we all like you so well," said Alice,
+with a good-humored smile. If Miss Alice had penetration, she never made
+a severe use of it.</p>
+
+<p>"But really, cousin," said the little lady, "I should not think such a
+girl as you would think any thing about dress, or admiration, and all
+that."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know what sort of a girl you think I am," said Alice, "but, for
+my own part, <i>I</i> only pretend to be a common human being, and am not
+ashamed of common human feelings. If God has made us so that we love
+admiration, why should we not honestly say so. <i>I</i> love it&mdash;<i>you</i> love
+it&mdash;every body loves it; and why should not every body say it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, yes," said the little lady, "I suppose every body has a&mdash;has a&mdash;a
+general love for admiration. I am willing to acknowledge that <i>I</i> have;
+but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But you have no love for it in particular," said Alice, "I suppose you
+mean to say; that is just the way the matter is commonly disposed of.
+Every body is willing to acknowledge a general wish for the good opinion
+of others, but half the world are ashamed to own it when it comes to a
+particular case. Now I have made up my mind, that if it is correct in
+general, it is correct in particular; and I mean to own it both ways."</p>
+
+<p>"But, somehow, it seems mean," said the little lady.</p>
+
+<p>"It is mean to live for it, to be selfishly engrossed in it, but not
+mean to enjoy it when it comes, or even to seek it, if we neglect no
+higher interest in doing so. All that God made us to feel is dignified
+and pure, unless we pervert it."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Alice, I never heard any person speak out so frankly as you do."</p>
+
+<p>"Almost all that is innocent and natural may be spoken out; and as for
+that which is not innocent and natural, it ought not even to be
+thought."</p>
+
+<p>"But <i>can</i> every thing be spoken that may be thought?" said the lady.</p>
+
+<p>"No; we have an instinct which teaches us to be silent sometimes: but,
+if we speak at all, let it be in simplicity and sincerity."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, for instance, Alice," said the lady, "it is very innocent and
+natural, as you say, to think this, that, and the other nice thing of
+yourself, especially when every body is telling you of it; now would you
+speak the truth if any one asked you on this point?"</p>
+
+<p>"If it were a person who had a right to ask, and if it were a proper
+time and place, I would," said Alice.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then," said the bright lady, "I ask you, Alice, in this very
+proper time and place, do you think that you are handsome?"</p>
+
+<p>"Now, I suppose you expect me to make a courtesy to every chair in the
+room before I answer," said Alice; "but, dispensing with that ceremony,
+I will tell you fairly, I think I am."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think that you are good?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not entirely," said Alice.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, but don't you think you are better than most people?"</p>
+
+<p>"As far as I can tell, I think I am better than some people; but really,
+cousin, I don't trust my own judgment in this matter," said Alice.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Alice, one more question. Do you think James Martyrs likes you or
+me best?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know," said Alice.</p>
+
+<p>"I did not ask you what you knew, but what you thought," said the lady;
+"you must have some thought about it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, I think he likes me best," said Alice.</p>
+
+<p>Just then the door opened, and in walked the identical James Martyrs.
+Alice blushed, looked a little comical, and went on with her sewing,
+while the little lady began,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Really, Mr. James, I wish you had come a minute sooner, to hear Alice's
+confessions."</p>
+
+<p>"What has she confessed?" said James.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, that she is handsomer and better than most folks."</p>
+
+<p>"That's nothing to be ashamed of," said James.</p>
+
+<p>"O, that's not all; she wants to look pretty, and loves to be admired,
+and all&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It sounds very much like her," said James, looking at Alice.</p>
+
+<p>"O, but, besides that," said the lady, "she has been preaching a
+discourse in justification of vanity and self-love&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And next time you shall take notes when I preach," said Alice, "for I
+don't think your memory is remarkably happy."</p>
+
+<p>"You see, James," said the lady, "that Alice makes it a point to say
+exactly the truth when she speaks at all, and I've been puzzling her
+with questions. I really wish you would ask her some, and see what she
+will say. But, mercy! there is Uncle C. come to take me to ride. I must
+run." And off flew the little humming bird, leaving James and Alice
+<i>tête-à-tête</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"There really is one question&mdash;&mdash;" said James, clearing his voice.</p>
+
+<p>Alice looked up.</p>
+
+<p>"There is one question, Alice, which I wish you <i>would</i> answer."</p>
+
+<p>Alice did not inquire what the question was, but began to look very
+solemn; and just then the door was shut&mdash;and so I never knew what the
+question was&mdash;only I observed that James Martyrs seemed in some seventh
+heaven for a week afterwards, and&mdash;and&mdash;you can finish for yourself,
+lady.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_SABBATH" id="THE_SABBATH"></a>THE SABBATH.</h2>
+
+<h3>SKETCHES FROM A NOTE BOOK OF AN ELDERLY GENTLEMAN.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The Puritan Sabbath&mdash;is there such a thing existing now, or has it gone
+with the things that were, to be looked at as a curiosity in the museum
+of the past? Can any one, in memory, take himself back to the unbroken
+stillness of that day, and recall the sense of religious awe which
+seemed to brood in the very atmosphere, checking the merry laugh of
+childhood, and chaining in unwonted stillness the tongue of volatile
+youth, and imparting even to the sunshine of heaven, and the unconscious
+notes of animals, a tone of its own gravity and repose? If you cannot
+remember these things, go back with me to the verge of early boyhood,
+and live with me one of the Sabbaths that I have spent beneath the roof
+of my uncle, Phineas Fletcher.</p>
+
+<p>Imagine the long sunny hours of a Saturday afternoon insensibly slipping
+away, as we youngsters are exploring the length and breadth of a trout
+stream, or chasing gray squirrels, or building mud milldams in the
+brook. The sun sinks lower and lower, but we still think it does not
+want half an hour to sundown. At last, he so evidently is really <i>going
+down</i>, that there is no room for scepticism or latitude of opinion on
+the subject; and with many a lingering regret, we began to put away our
+fish-hooks, and hang our hoops over our arm, preparatory to trudging
+homeward.</p>
+
+<p>"O Henry, don't you wish that Saturday afternoons lasted longer?" said
+little John to me.</p>
+
+<p>"I do," says Cousin Bill, who was never the boy to mince matters in
+giving his sentiments; "and I wouldn't care if Sunday didn't come but
+once a year."</p>
+
+<p>"O Bill, that's wicked, I'm afraid," says little conscientious Susan,
+who, with her doll in hand, was coming home from a Saturday afternoon
+visit.</p>
+
+<p>"Can't help it," says Bill, catching Susan's bag, and tossing it in the
+air; "I never did like to sit still, and that's why I hate Sundays."</p>
+
+<p>"Hate Sundays! O Bill! Why, Aunt Kezzy says heaven is an <i>eternal</i>
+Sabbath&mdash;only think of that!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I know I must be pretty different from what I am now before I
+could sit still forever," said Bill, in a lower and somewhat
+disconcerted tone, as if admitting the force of the consideration.</p>
+
+<p>The rest of us began to look very grave, and to think that we must get
+to liking Sunday some time or other, or it would be a very bad thing for
+us. As we drew near the dwelling, the compact and business-like form of
+Aunt Kezzy was seen emerging from the house to hasten our approach.</p>
+
+<p>"How often have I told you, young ones, not to stay out after sundown on
+Saturday night? Don't you know it's the same as Sunday, you wicked
+children, you? Come right into the house, every one of you, and never
+let me hear of such a thing again."</p>
+
+<p>This was Aunt Kezzy's regular exordium every Saturday night; for we
+children, being blinded, as she supposed, by natural depravity, always
+made strange mistakes in reckoning time on Saturday afternoons. After
+being duly suppered and scrubbed, we were enjoined to go to bed, and
+remember that to-morrow was Sunday, and that we must not laugh and play
+in the morning. With many a sorrowful look did Susan deposit her doll in
+the chest, and give one lingering glance at the patchwork she was
+piecing for dolly's bed, while William, John, and myself emptied our
+pockets of all superfluous fish-hooks, bits of twine, popguns, slices of
+potato, marbles, and all the various items of boy property, which, to
+keep us from temptation, were taken into Aunt Kezzy's safe keeping over
+Sunday.</p>
+
+<p>My Uncle Phineas was a man of great exactness, and Sunday was the centre
+of his whole worldly and religious system. Every thing with regard to
+his worldly business was so arranged that by Saturday noon it seemed to
+come to a close of itself. All his accounts were looked over, his
+work-men paid, all borrowed things returned, and lent things sent after,
+and every tool and article belonging to the farm was returned to its own
+place at exactly such an hour every Saturday afternoon, and an hour
+before sundown every item of preparation, even to the blacking of his
+Sunday shoes and the brushing of his Sunday coat, was entirely
+concluded; and at the going down of the sun, the stillness of the
+Sabbath seemed to settle down over the whole dwelling.</p>
+
+<p>And now it is Sunday morning; and though all without is fragrance, and
+motion, and beauty, the dewdrops are twinkling, butterflies fluttering,
+and merry birds carolling and racketing as if they never could sing loud
+or fast enough, yet within there is such a stillness that the tick of
+the tall mahogany clock is audible through the whole house, and the buzz
+of the blue flies, as they whiz along up and down the window panes, is a
+distinct item of hearing. Look into the best front room, and you may see
+the upright form of my Uncle Phineas, in his immaculate Sunday clothes,
+with his Bible spread open on the little stand before him, and even a
+deeper than usual gravity settling down over his toil-worn features.
+Alongside, in well-brushed Sunday clothes, with clean faces and smooth
+hair, sat the whole of us younger people, each drawn up in a chair, with
+hat and handkerchief, ready for the first stroke of the bell, while Aunt
+Kezzy, all trimmed, and primmed, and made ready for meeting, sat reading
+her psalm book, only looking up occasionally to give an additional jerk
+to some shirt collar, or the fifteenth pull to Susan's frock, or to
+repress any straggling looks that might be wandering about, "beholding
+vanity."</p>
+
+<p>A stranger, in glancing at Uncle Phineas as he sat intent on his Sunday
+reading, might have seen that the Sabbath was <i>in his heart</i>&mdash;there was
+no mistake about it. It was plain that he had put by all worldly
+thoughts when he shut up his account book, and that his mind was as free
+from every earthly association as his Sunday coat was from dust. The
+slave of worldliness, who is driven, by perplexing business or
+adventurous speculation, through the hours of a half-kept Sabbath to the
+fatigues of another week, might envy the unbroken quiet, the sunny
+tranquillity, which hallowed the weekly rest of my uncle.</p>
+
+<p>The Sabbath of the Puritan Christian was the golden day, and all its
+associations, and all its thoughts, words, and deeds, were so entirely
+distinct from the ordinary material of life, that it was to him a sort
+of weekly translation&mdash;a quitting of this world to sojourn a day in a
+better; and year after year, as each Sabbath set its seal on the
+completed labors of a week, the pilgrim felt that one more stage of his
+earthly journey was completed, and that he was one week nearer to his
+eternal rest. And as years, with their changes, came on, and the strong
+man grew old, and missed, one after another, familiar forms that had
+risen around his earlier years, the face of the Sabbath became like that
+of an old and tried friend, carrying him back to the scenes of his
+youth, and connecting him with scenes long gone by, restoring to him the
+dew and freshness of brighter and more buoyant days.</p>
+
+<p>Viewed simply as an institution for a Christian and mature mind, nothing
+could be more perfect than the Puritan Sabbath: if it had any failing,
+it was in the want of adaptation to children, and to those not
+interested in its peculiar duties. If you had been in the dwelling of my
+uncle of a Sabbath morning, you must have found the unbroken stillness
+delightful; the calm and quiet must have soothed and disposed you for
+contemplation, and the evident appearance of single-hearted devotion to
+the duties of the day in the elder part of the family must have been a
+striking addition to the picture. But, then, if your eye had watched
+attentively the motions of us juveniles, you might have seen that what
+was so very invigorating to the disciplined Christian was a weariness to
+young flesh and bones. Then there was not, as now, the intellectual
+relaxation afforded by the Sunday school, with its various forms of
+religious exercise, its thousand modes of interesting and useful
+information. Our whole stock in this line was the Bible and Primer, and
+these were our main dependence for whiling away the tedious hours
+between our early breakfast and the signal for meeting. How often was
+our invention stretched to find wherewithal to keep up our stock of
+excitement in a line with the duties of the day! For the first half
+hour, perhaps, a story in the Bible answered our purpose very well; but,
+having despatched the history of Joseph, or the story of the ten
+plagues, we then took to the Primer: and then there was, first, the
+looking over the system of theological and ethical teaching, commencing,
+"In Adam's fall we sinned all," and extending through three or four
+pages of pictorial and poetic embellishment. Next was the death of John
+Rogers, who was burned at Smithfield; and for a while we could entertain
+ourselves with counting all his "nine children and one at the breast,"
+as in the picture they stand in a regular row, like a pair of stairs.
+These being done, came miscellaneous exercises of our own invention,
+such as counting all the psalms in the psalm book, backward and forward,
+to and from the Doxology, or numbering the books in the Bible, or some
+other such device as we deemed within the pale of religious employments.
+When all these failed, and it still wanted an hour of meeting time, we
+looked up at the ceiling, and down at the floor, and all around into
+every corner, to see what we could do next; and happy was he who could
+spy a pin gleaming in some distant crack, and forthwith muster an
+occasion for getting down to pick it up. Then there was the infallible
+recollection that we wanted a drink of water, as an excuse to get out to
+the well; or else we heard some strange noise among the chickens, and
+insisted that it was essential that we should see what was the matter;
+or else pussy would jump on to the table, when all of us would spring to
+drive her down; while there was a most assiduous watching of the clock
+to see when the first bell would ring. Happy was it for us, in the
+interim, if we did not begin to look at each other and make up faces, or
+slyly slip off and on our shoes, or some other incipient attempts at
+roguery, which would gradually so undermine our gravity that there would
+be some sudden explosion of merriment, whereat Uncle Phineas would look
+up and say, "<i>Tut, tut</i>," and Aunt Kezzy would make a speech about
+wicked children breaking the Sabbath day. I remember once how my cousin
+Bill got into deep disgrace one Sunday by a roguish trick. He was just
+about to close his Bible with all sobriety, when snap came a grasshopper
+through an open window, and alighted in the middle of the page. Bill
+instantly kidnapped the intruder, for so important an auxiliary in the
+way of employment was not to be despised. Presently we children looked
+towards Bill, and there he sat, very demurely reading his Bible, with
+the grasshopper hanging by one leg from the corner of his mouth, kicking
+and sprawling, without in the least disturbing Master William's gravity.
+We all burst into an uproarious laugh. But it came to be rather a
+serious affair for Bill, as his good father was in the practice of
+enforcing truth and duty by certain modes of moral suasion much
+recommended by Solomon, though fallen into disrepute at the present day.</p>
+
+<p>This morning picture may give a good specimen of the whole livelong
+Sunday, which presented only an alternation of similar scenes until
+sunset, when a universal unchaining of tongues and a general scamper
+proclaimed that the "sun was down."</p>
+
+<p>But, it may be asked, what was the result of all this strictness? Did it
+not disgust you with the Sabbath and with religion? No, it did not. It
+did not, because it was the result of <i>no unkindly feeling</i>, but of
+<i>consistent principle</i>; and consistency of principle is what even
+children learn to appreciate and revere. The law of obedience and of
+reverence for the Sabbath was constraining so equally on the young and
+the old, that its claims came to be regarded like those immutable laws
+of nature, which no one thinks of being out of patience with, though
+they sometimes bear hard on personal convenience. The effect of the
+system was to ingrain into our character a veneration for the Sabbath
+which no friction of after life would ever efface. I have lived to
+wander in many climates and foreign lands, where the Sabbath is an
+unknown name, or where it is only recognized by noisy mirth; but never
+has the day returned without bringing with it a breathing of religious
+awe, and even a yearning for the unbroken stillness, the placid repose,
+and the simple devotion of the Puritan Sabbath.</p>
+
+
+<h4>ANOTHER SCENE.</h4>
+
+<p>"How late we are this morning!" said Mrs. Roberts to her husband,
+glancing hurriedly at the clock, as they were sitting down to breakfast
+on a Sabbath morning. "Really, it is a shame to us to be so late
+Sundays. I wonder John and Henry are not up yet; Hannah, did you speak
+to them?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am, but I could not make them mind; they said it was Sunday,
+and that we always have breakfast later Sundays."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it is a shame to us, I must say," said Mrs. Roberts, sitting down
+to the table. "I never lie late myself unless something in particular
+happens. Last night I was out very late, and Sabbath before last I had a
+bad headache."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well, my dear," said Mr. Roberts, "it is not worth while to worry
+yourself about it; Sunday is a day of rest; every body indulges a little
+of a Sunday morning, it is so very natural, you know; one's work done
+up, one feels like taking a little rest."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I must say it was not the way my mother brought me up," said Mrs.
+Roberts; "and I really can't feel it to be right."</p>
+
+<p>This last part of the discourse had been listened to by two
+sleepy-looking boys, who had, meanwhile, taken their seats at table with
+that listless air which is the result of late sleeping.</p>
+
+<p>"O, by the by, my dear, what did you give for those hams Saturday?" said
+Mr. Roberts.</p>
+
+<p>"Eleven cents a pound, I believe," replied Mrs. Roberts; "but Stephens
+and Philips have some much nicer, canvas and all, for ten cents. I think
+we had better get our things at Stephens and Philips's in future, my
+dear."</p>
+
+<p>"Why? are they much cheaper?"</p>
+
+<p>"O, a great deal; but I forget it is Sunday. We ought to be thinking of
+other things. Boys, have you looked over your Sunday school lesson?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, ma'am."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, how strange! and here it wants only half an hour of the time, and
+you are not dressed either. Now, see the bad effects of not being up in
+time."</p>
+
+<p>The boys looked sullen, and said "they were up as soon as any one else
+in the house."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, your father and I had some excuse, because we were out late last
+night; you ought to have been up full three hours ago, and to have been
+all ready, with your lessons learned. Now, what do you suppose you shall
+do?"</p>
+
+<p>"O mother, do let us stay at home this one morning; we don't know the
+lesson, and it won't do any good for us to go."</p>
+
+<p>"No, indeed, I shall not. You must go and get along as well as you can.
+It is all your own fault. Now, go up stairs and hurry. We shall not find
+time for prayers this morning."</p>
+
+<p>The boys took themselves up stairs to "hurry," as directed, and soon one
+of them called from the top of the stairs, "Mother! mother! the buttons
+are off this vest; so I can't wear it!" and "Mother! here is a long rip
+in my best coat!" said another.</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you not tell me of it before?" said Mrs. Roberts, coming up
+stairs.</p>
+
+<p>"I forgot it," said the boy.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well, stand still; I must catch it together somehow, if it is
+Sunday. There! there is the bell! Stand still a minute!" and Mrs.
+Roberts plied needle, and thread, and scissors; "there, that will do for
+to-day. Dear me, how confused every thing is to-day!"</p>
+
+<p>"It is always just so Sundays," said John, flinging up his book and
+catching it again as he ran down stairs.</p>
+
+<p>"It is always just so Sundays." These words struck rather unpleasantly
+on Mrs. Roberts's conscience, for something told her that, whatever the
+reason might be, it <i>was</i> just so. On Sunday every thing was later and
+more irregular than any other day in the week.</p>
+
+<p>"Hannah, you must boil that piece of beef for dinner to-day."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you told me you did not have cooking done on Sunday."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I do not, generally. I am very sorry Mr. Roberts would get that
+piece of meat yesterday. We did not need it; but here it is on our
+hands; the weather is too hot to keep it. It won't do to let it spoil;
+so I must have it boiled, for aught I see."</p>
+
+<p>Hannah had lived four Sabbaths with Mrs. Roberts, and on two of them she
+had been required to cook from similar reasoning. "<i>For once</i>" is apt,
+in such cases, to become a phrase of very extensive signification.</p>
+
+<p>"It really worries me to have things go on so as they do on Sundays,"
+said Mrs. Roberts to her husband. "I never do feel as if we kept Sunday
+as we ought."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear, you have been saying so ever since we were married, and I do
+not see what you are going to do about it. For my part I do not see why
+we do not do as well as people in general. We do not visit, nor receive
+company, nor read improper books. We go to church, and send the children
+to Sunday school, and so the greater part of the day is spent in a
+religious way. Then out of church we have the children's Sunday school
+books, and one or two religious newspapers. I think that is quite
+enough."</p>
+
+<p>"But, somehow, when I was a child, my mother&mdash;&mdash;" said Mrs. Roberts,
+hesitating.</p>
+
+<p>"O my dear, your mother must not be considered an exact pattern for
+these days. People were too strict in your mother's time; they carried
+the thing too far, altogether; every body allows it now."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Roberts was silenced, but not satisfied. A strict religious
+education had left just conscience enough on this subject to make her
+uneasy.</p>
+
+<p>These worthy people had a sort of general idea that Sunday ought to be
+kept, and they intended to keep it; but they had never taken the trouble
+to investigate or inquire as to the most proper way, nor was it so much
+an object of interest that their weekly arrangements were planned with
+any reference to it. Mr. Roberts would often engage in business at the
+close of the week, which he knew would so fatigue him that he would be
+weary and listless on Sunday; and Mrs. Roberts would allow her family
+cares to accumulate in the same way, so that she was either wearied with
+efforts to accomplish it before the Sabbath, or perplexed and worried by
+finding every thing at loose ends on that day. They had the idea that
+Sunday was to be kept when it was perfectly convenient, and did not
+demand any sacrifice of time or money. But if stopping to keep the
+Sabbath in a journey would risk passage money or a seat in the stage,
+or, in housekeeping, if it would involve any considerable inconvenience
+or expense, it was deemed a providential intimation that it was "a work
+of necessity and mercy" to attend to secular matters. To their minds the
+fourth command read thus: "Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy when
+it comes convenient, and costs neither time nor money."</p>
+
+<p>As to the effects of this on the children, there was neither enough of
+strictness to make them respect the Sabbath, nor of religions interest
+to make them love it; of course, the little restraint there was proved
+just enough to lead them to dislike and despise it. Children soon
+perceive the course of their parents' feelings, and it was evident
+enough to the children of this family that their father and mother
+generally found themselves hurried into the Sabbath with hearts and
+minds full of this world, and their conversation and thoughts were so
+constantly turning to worldly things, and so awkwardly drawn back by a
+sense of religious obligation, that the Sabbath appeared more obviously
+a clog and a fetter than it did under the strictest <i>régime</i> of Puritan
+days.</p>
+
+
+<h4>SKETCH SECOND.</h4>
+
+<p>The little quiet village of Camden stands under the brow of a rugged
+hill in one of the most picturesque parts of New England; and its
+regular, honest, and industrious villagers were not a little surprised
+and pleased that Mr. James, a rich man, and pleasant-spoken withal, had
+concluded to take up his residence among them. He brought with him a
+pretty, genteel wife, and a group of rosy, romping, but amiable
+children; and there was so much of good nature and kindness about the
+manners of every member of the family, that the whole neighborhood were
+prepossessed in their favor. Mr. James was a man of somewhat visionary
+and theoretical turn of mind, and very much in the habit of following
+out his own ideas of right and wrong, without troubling himself
+particularly as to the appearance his course might make in the eyes of
+others. He was a supporter of the ordinances of religion, and always
+ready to give both time and money to promote any benevolent object; and
+though he had never made any public profession of religion, nor
+connected himself with any particular set of Christians, still he seemed
+to possess great reverence for God, and to worship him in spirit and in
+truth, and he professed to make the Bible the guide of his life. Mr.
+James had been brought up under a system of injudicious religious
+restraint. He had determined, in educating his children, to adopt an
+exactly opposite course, and to make religion and all its institutions
+sources of enjoyment. His aim, doubtless, was an appropriate one; but
+his method of carrying it out, to say the least, was one which was not a
+safe model for general imitation. In regard to the Sabbath, for example,
+he considered that, although the plan of going to church twice a day,
+and keeping all the family quiet within doors the rest of the time, was
+good, other methods would be much better. Accordingly, after the morning
+service, which he and his whole family regularly attended, he would
+spend the rest of the day with his children. In bad weather he would
+instruct them in natural history, show them pictures, and read them
+various accounts of the works of God, combining all with such religious
+instruction and influence as a devotional mind might furnish. When the
+weather permitted, he would range with them through the fields,
+collecting minerals and plants, or sail with them on the lake, meanwhile
+directing the thoughts of his young listeners upward to God, by the many
+beautiful traces of his presence and agency, which superior knowledge
+and observation enabled him to discover and point out. These Sunday
+strolls were seasons of most delightful enjoyment to the children.
+Though it was with some difficulty that their father could restrain them
+from loud and noisy demonstrations of delight, and he saw with some
+regret that the mere animal excitement of the stroll seemed to draw the
+attention too much from religious considerations, and, in particular, to
+make the exercises of the morning seem like a preparatory penance to the
+enjoyments of the afternoon, nevertheless, when Mr. James looked back to
+his own boyhood, and remembered the frigid restraint, the entire want of
+any kind of mental or bodily excitement, which had made the Sabbath so
+much a weariness to him, he could not but congratulate himself when he
+perceived his children looking forward to Sunday as a day of delight,
+and found himself on that day continually surrounded by a circle of
+smiling and cheerful faces. His talent of imparting religious
+instruction in a simple and interesting form was remarkably happy, and
+it is probable that there was among his children an uncommon degree of
+real thought and feeling on religious subjects as the result.</p>
+
+<p>The good people of Camden, however, knew not what to think of a course
+that appeared to them an entire violation of all the requirements of the
+Sabbath. The first impulse of human nature is to condemn at once all who
+vary from what has been commonly regarded as the right way; and,
+accordingly, Mr. James was unsparingly denounced, by many good people,
+as a Sabbath breaker, an infidel, and an opposer to religion.</p>
+
+<p>Such was the character heard of him by Mr. Richards, a young clergyman,
+who, shortly after Mr. James fixed his residence in Camden, accepted the
+pastoral charge of the village. It happened that Mr. Richards had known
+Mr. James in college, and, remembering him as a remarkably serious,
+amiable, and conscientious man, he resolved to ascertain from himself
+the views which had led him to the course of conduct so offensive to the
+good people of the neighborhood.</p>
+
+<p>"This is all very well, my good friend," said he, after he had listened
+to Mr. James's eloquent account of his own system of religious
+instruction, and its effects upon his family; "I do not doubt that this
+system does very well for yourself and family; but there are other
+things to be taken into consideration besides personal and family
+improvement. Do you not know, Mr. James, that the most worthless and
+careless part of my congregation quote your example as a respectable
+precedent for allowing their families to violate the order of the
+Sabbath? You and your children sail about on the lake, with minds and
+hearts, I doubt not, elevated and tranquillized by its quiet repose; but
+Ben Dakes, and his idle, profane army of children, consider themselves
+as doing very much the same thing when they lie lolling about, sunning
+themselves on its shore, or skipping stones over its surface the whole
+of a Sunday afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>"Let every one answer to his own conscience," replied Mr. James. "If I
+keep the Sabbath conscientiously, I am approved of God; if another
+transgresses his conscience, 'to his own master he standeth or falleth.'
+I am not responsible for all the abuses that idle or evil-disposed
+persons may fall into, in consequence of my doing what is right."</p>
+
+<p>"Let me quote an answer from the same chapter," said Mr. Richards. "'Let
+no man put a stumbling block, or an occasion to fall, in his brother's
+way; let not your good be evil spoken of. It is good neither to eat
+flesh nor drink wine, <i>nor any thing whereby thy brother stumbleth, or
+is offended, or made weak</i>.' Now, my good friend, you happen to be
+endowed with a certain tone of mind which enables you to carry through
+your mode of keeping the Sabbath with little comparative evil, and much
+good, so far as your family is concerned; but how many persons in this
+neighborhood, do you suppose, would succeed equally well if they were to
+attempt it? If it were the common custom for families to absent
+themselves from public worship in the afternoon, and to stroll about the
+fields, or ride, or sail, how many parents, do you suppose, would have
+the dexterity and talent to check all that was inconsistent with the
+duties of the day? Is it not your ready command of language, your
+uncommon tact in simplifying and illustrating, your knowledge of natural
+history and of biblical literature, that enable you to accomplish the
+results that you do? And is there one parent in a hundred that could do
+the same? Now, just imagine our neighbor, 'Squire Hart, with his ten
+boys and girls, turned out into the fields on a Sunday afternoon to
+profit withal: you know he can never finish a sentence without stopping
+to begin it again half a dozen times. What progress would he make in
+instructing them? And so of a dozen others I could name along this very
+street here. Now, you men of cultivated minds must give your countenance
+to courses which would be best for society at large, or, as the
+sentiment was expressed by St. Paul, 'We that are strong ought to bear
+the infirmities of the weak, <i>and not to please ourselves</i>, for even
+Christ <i>pleased not himself</i>.' Think, my dear sir, if our Savior had
+gone only on the principle of avoiding what might be injurious to his
+own improvement, how unsafe his example might have proved to less
+elevated minds. Doubtless he might have made a Sabbath day fishing
+excursion an occasion of much elevated and impressive instruction; but,
+although he declared himself 'Lord of the Sabbath day,' and at liberty
+to suspend its obligation at his own discretion, yet he never violated
+the received method of observing it, except in cases where superstitious
+tradition trenched directly on those interests which the Sabbath was
+given to promote. He asserted the right to relieve pressing bodily
+wants, and to administer to the necessities of others on the Sabbath,
+but beyond that he allowed himself in no deviation from established
+custom."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. James looked thoughtful. "I have not reflected on the subject in
+this view," he replied. "But, my dear sir, considering how little of the
+public services of the Sabbath is on a level with the capacity of
+younger children, it seems to me almost a pity to take them to church
+the whole of the day."</p>
+
+<p>"I have thought of that myself," replied Mr. Richards, "and have
+sometimes thought that, could persons be found to conduct such a thing,
+it would be desirable to institute a separate service for children, in
+which the exercises should be particularly adapted to them."</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to be minister to a congregation of children," said Mr.
+James, warmly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," replied Mr. Richards, "give our good people time to get
+acquainted with you, and do away the prejudices which your extraordinary
+mode of proceeding has induced, and I think I could easily assemble such
+a company for you every Sabbath."</p>
+
+<p>After this, much to the surprise of the village, Mr. James and his
+family were regular attendants at both the services of the Sabbath. Mr.
+Richards explained to the good people of his congregation the motives
+which had led their neighbor to the adoption of what, to them, seemed so
+unchristian a course; and, upon reflection, they came to the perception
+of the truth, that a man may depart very widely from the received
+standard of right for other reasons than being an infidel or an opposer
+of religion. A ready return of cordial feeling was the result; and as
+Mr. James found himself treated with respect and confidence, he began to
+feel, notwithstanding his fastidiousness, that there were strong points
+of congeniality between all real and warm-hearted Christians, however
+different might be their intellectual culture, and in all simplicity
+united himself with the little church of Camden. A year from the time of
+his first residence there, every Sabbath afternoon saw him surrounded by
+a congregation of young children, for whose benefit he had, at his own
+expense, provided a room, fitted up with maps, scriptural pictures, and
+every convenience for the illustration of biblical knowledge; and the
+parents or guardians who from time to time attended their children
+during these exercises, often confessed themselves as much interested
+and benefited as any of their youthful companions.</p>
+
+
+<h4>SKETCH THIRD.</h4>
+
+<p>It was near the close of a pleasant Saturday afternoon that I drew up my
+weary horse in front of a neat little dwelling in the village of N.
+This, as near as I could gather from description, was the house of my
+cousin, William Fletcher, the identical rogue of a Bill Fletcher of whom
+we have aforetime spoken. Bill had always been a thriving, push-ahead
+sort of a character, and during the course of my rambling life I had
+improved every occasional opportunity of keeping up our early
+acquaintance. The last time that I returned to my native country, after
+some years of absence, I heard of him as married and settled in the
+village of N., where he was conducting a very prosperous course of
+business, and shortly after received a pressing invitation to visit him
+at his own home. Now, as I had gathered from experience the fact that it
+is of very little use to rap one's knuckles off on the front door of a
+country house without any knocker, I therefore made the best of my way
+along a little path, bordered with marigolds and balsams, that led to
+the back part of the dwelling. The sound of a number of childish voices
+made me stop, and, looking through the bushes, I saw the very image of
+my cousin Bill Fletcher, as he used to be twenty years ago; the same
+bold forehead, the same dark eyes, the same smart, saucy mouth, and the
+same "who-cares-for-that" toss to his head. "There, now," exclaimed the
+boy, setting down a pair of shoes that he had been blacking, and
+arranging them at the head of a long row of all sizes and sorts, from
+those which might have fitted a two year old foot upward, "there, I've
+blacked every single one of them, and made them shine too, and done it
+all in twenty minutes; if any body thinks they can do it quicker than
+that, I'd just like to have them try; that's all."</p>
+
+<p>"I know they couldn't, though," said a fair-haired little girl, who
+stood admiring the sight, evidently impressed with the utmost reverence
+for her brother's ability; "and, Bill, I've been putting up all the
+playthings in the big chest, and I want you to come and turn the
+lock&mdash;the key hurts my fingers."</p>
+
+<p>"Poh! I can turn it easier than that," said the boy, snapping his
+fingers; "have you got them all in?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, all; only I left out the soft bales, and the string of red beads,
+and the great rag baby for Fanny to play with&mdash;you know mother says
+babies must have their playthings Sunday."</p>
+
+<p>"O, to be sure," said the brother, very considerately; "babies can't
+read, you know, as we can, nor hear Bible stories, nor look at
+pictures." At this moment I stepped forward, for the spell of former
+times was so powerfully on me, that I was on the very point of springing
+forward with a "Halloo, there, Bill!" as I used to meet the father in
+old times; but the look of surprise that greeted my appearance brought
+me to myself.</p>
+
+<p>"Is your father at home?" said I.</p>
+
+<p>"Father and mother are both gone out; but I guess, sir, they will be
+home in a few moments: won't you walk in?"</p>
+
+<p>I accepted the invitation, and the little girl showed me into a small
+and very prettily furnished parlor. There was a piano with music books
+on one side of the room, some fine pictures hung about the walls, and a
+little, neat centre table was plentifully strewn with books. Besides
+this, the two recesses on each side of the fireplace contained each a
+bookcase with a glass locked door.</p>
+
+<p>The little girl offered me a chair, and then lingered a moment, as if
+she felt some disposition to entertain me if she could only think of
+something to say; and at last, looking up in my face, she said, in a
+confidential tone, "Mother says she left Willie and me to keep house
+this afternoon while she was gone, and we are putting up all the things
+for Sunday, so as to get every thing done before she comes home. Willie
+has gone to put away the playthings, and I'm going to put up the books."
+So saying, she opened the doors of one of the bookcases, and began
+busily carrying the books from the centre table to deposit them on the
+shelves, in which employment she was soon assisted by Willie, who took
+the matter in hand in a very masterly manner, showing his sister what
+were and what were not "Sunday books" with the air of a person entirely
+at home in the business. Robinson Crusoe and the many-volumed Peter
+Parley were put by without hesitation; there was, however, a short
+demurring over a North American Review, because Willie said he was sure
+his father read something one Sunday out of one of them, while Susan
+averred that he did not commonly read in it, and only read in it then
+because the piece was something about the Bible; but as nothing could be
+settled definitively on the point, the review was "laid on the table,"
+like knotty questions in Congress. Then followed a long discussion over
+an extract book, which, as usual, contained all sorts, both sacred,
+serious, comic, and profane; and at last Willie, with much gravity,
+decided to lock it up, on the principle that it was best to be on the
+<i>safe side</i>, in support of which he appealed to me. I was saved from
+deciding the question by the entrance of the father and mother. My old
+friend knew me at once, and presented his pretty wife to me with the
+same look of exultation with which he used to hold up a string of trout
+or an uncommonly fine perch of his own catching for my admiration, and
+then looking round on his fine family of children, two more of which he
+had brought home with him, seemed to say to me, "There! what do you
+think of that, now?"</p>
+
+<p>And, in truth, a very pretty sight it was&mdash;enough to make any one's old
+bachelor coat sit very uneasily on him. Indeed, there is nothing that
+gives one such a startling idea of the tricks that old Father Time has
+been playing on us, as to meet some boyish or girlish companions with
+half a dozen or so of thriving children about them. My old friend, I
+found, was in essence just what the boy had been. There was the same
+upright bearing, the same confident, cheerful tone to his voice, and the
+same fire in his eye; only that the hand of manhood had slightly touched
+some of the lines of his face, giving them a staidness of expression
+becoming the man and the father.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, my children," said Mrs. Fletcher, as, after tea, William and
+Susan finished recounting to her the various matters that they had set
+in order that afternoon; "I believe now we can say that our week's work
+is finished, and that we have nothing to do but rest and enjoy
+ourselves."</p>
+
+<p>"O, and papa will show us the pictures in those great books that he
+brought home for us last Monday, will he not?" said little Robert.</p>
+
+<p>"And, mother, you will tell us some more about Solomon's temple and his
+palaces, won't you?" said Susan.</p>
+
+<p>"And I should like to know if father has found out the answer to that
+hard question I gave him last Sunday?" said Willie.</p>
+
+<p>"All will come in good time," said Mrs. Fletcher. "But tell me, my dear
+children, are you sure that you are quite ready for the Sabbath? You say
+you have put away the books and the playthings; have you put away, too,
+all wrong and unkind feelings? Do you feel kindly and pleasantly towards
+every body?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, mother," said Willie, who appeared to have taken a great part of
+this speech to himself; "I went over to Tom Walter's this very morning
+to ask him about that chicken of mine, and he said that he did not mean
+to hit it, and did not know he had till I told him of it; and so we made
+all up again, and I am glad I went."</p>
+
+<p>"I am inclined to think, Willie," said his father, "that if every body
+would make it a rule to settle up all their differences <i>before Sunday</i>,
+there would be very few long quarrels and lawsuits. In about half the
+cases, a quarrel is founded on some misunderstanding that would be got
+over in five minutes if one would go directly to the person for
+explanation."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose I need not ask you," said Mrs. Fletcher, "whether you have
+fully learned your Sunday school lessons."</p>
+
+<p>"O, to be sure," said William. "You know, mother, that Susan and I were
+busy about them through Monday and Tuesday, and then this afternoon we
+looked them over again, and wrote down some questions."</p>
+
+<p>"And I heard Robert say his all through, and showed him all the places
+on the Bible Atlas," said Susan.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then," said my friend, "if every thing is done, let us begin
+Sunday with some music."</p>
+
+<p>Thanks to the recent improvements in the musical instruction of the
+young, every family can now form a domestic concert, with words and
+tunes adapted to the capacity and the voices of children; and while
+these little ones, full of animation, pressed round their mother as she
+sat at the piano, and accompanied her music with the words of some
+beautiful hymns, I thought that, though I might have heard finer music,
+I had never listened to any that answered the purpose of music so well.</p>
+
+<p>It was a custom at my friend's to retire at an early hour on Saturday
+evening, in order that there might be abundant time for rest, and no
+excuse for late rising on the Sabbath; and, accordingly, when the
+children had done singing, after a short season of family devotion, we
+all betook ourselves to our chambers, and I, for one, fell asleep with
+the impression of having finished the week most agreeably, and with
+anticipations of very great pleasure on the morrow.</p>
+
+<p>Early in the morning I was roused from my sleep by the sound of little
+voices singing with great animation in the room next to mine, and,
+listening, I caught the following words:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Awake! awake! your bed forsake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To God your praises pay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The morning sun is clear and bright;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With joy we hail his cheerful light.<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">In songs of love<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Praise God above&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">It is the Sabbath day!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>The last words were repeated and prolonged most vehemently by a voice
+that I knew for Master William's.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Willie, I like the other one best," said the soft voice of little
+Susan; and immediately she began,&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"How sweet is the day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When, leaving our play,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The Saviour we seek!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fair morning glows<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When Jesus arose&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The best in the week."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Master William helped along with great spirit in the singing of this
+tune, though I heard him observing, at the end of the first verse, that
+he liked the other one better, because "it seemed to step off so kind o'
+lively;" and his accommodating sister followed him as he began singing
+it again with redoubled animation.</p>
+
+<p>It was a beautiful summer morning, and the voices of the children within
+accorded well with the notes of birds and bleating flocks without&mdash;a
+cheerful, yet Sabbath-like and quieting sound.</p>
+
+<p>"Blessed be children's music!" said I to myself; "how much better this
+is than the solitary tick, tick, of old Uncle Fletcher's tall mahogany
+clock!"</p>
+
+<p>The family bell summoned us to the breakfast room just as the children
+had finished their hymn. The little breakfast parlor had been swept and
+garnished expressly for the day, and a vase of beautiful flowers, which
+the children had the day before collected from their gardens, adorned
+the centre table. The door of one of the bookcases by the fireplace was
+thrown open, presenting to view a collection of prettily bound books,
+over the top of which appeared in gilt letters the inscription, "Sabbath
+Library." The windows were thrown open to let in the invigorating breath
+of the early morning, and the birds that flitted among the rosebushes
+without seemed scarcely lighter and more buoyant than did the children
+as they entered the room. It was legibly written on every face in the
+house, that the happiest day in the week had arrived, and each one
+seemed to enter into its duties with a whole soul. It was still early
+when the breakfast and the season of family devotion were over, and the
+children eagerly gathered round the table to get a sight of the pictures
+in the new books which their father had purchased in New York the week
+before, and which had been reserved as a Sunday's treat. They were a
+beautiful edition of Calmet's Dictionary, in several large volumes, with
+very superior engravings.</p>
+
+<p>"It seems to me that this work must be very expensive," I remarked to my
+friend, as we were turning the leaves.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed it is so," he replied; "but here is one place where I am less
+withheld by considerations of expense than in any other. In all that
+concerns making a show in the world, I am perfectly ready to economize.
+I can do very well without expensive clothing or fashionable furniture,
+and am willing that we should be looked on as very plain sort of people
+in all such matters; but in all that relates to the cultivation of the
+mind, and the improvement of the hearts of my children, I am willing to
+go to the extent of my ability. Whatever will give my children a better
+knowledge of, or deeper interest in, the Bible, or enable them to spend
+a Sabbath profitably and without weariness, stands first on my list
+among things to be purchased. I have spent in this way one third as much
+as the furnishing of my house costs me." On looking over the shelves of
+the Sabbath library, I perceived that my friend had been at no small
+pains in the selection. It comprised all the popular standard works for
+the illustration of the Bible, together with the best of the modern
+religious publications adapted to the capacity of young children. Two
+large drawers below were filled with maps and scriptural engravings,
+some of them of a very superior character.</p>
+
+<p>"We have been collecting these things gradually ever since we have been
+at housekeeping," said my friend; "the children take an interest in this
+library, as something more particularly belonging to them, and some of
+the books are donations from their little earnings."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Willie, "I bought Helen's Pilgrimage with my egg money, and
+Susan bought the Life of David, and little Robert is going to buy one,
+too, next new year."</p>
+
+<p>"But," said I, "would not the Sunday school library answer all the
+purpose of this?"</p>
+
+<p>"The Sabbath school library is an admirable thing," said my friend; "but
+this does more fully and perfectly what that was intended to do. It
+makes a sort of central attraction at home on the Sabbath, and makes the
+acquisition of religious knowledge and the proper observance of the
+Sabbath a sort of family enterprise. You know," he added, smiling, "that
+people always feel interested for an object in which they have invested
+money."</p>
+
+<p>The sound of the first Sabbath school bell put an end to this
+conversation. The children promptly made themselves ready, and as their
+father was the superintendent of the school, and their mother one of the
+teachers, it was quite a family party.</p>
+
+<p>One part of every Sabbath at my friend's was spent by one or both
+parents with the children, in a sort of review of the week. The
+attention of the little ones was directed to their own characters, the
+various defects or improvements of the past week were pointed out, and
+they were stimulated to be on their guard in the time to come, and the
+whole was closed by earnest prayer for such heavenly aid as the
+temptations and faults of each particular one might need. After church
+in the evening, while the children were thus withdrawn to their mother's
+apartment, I could not forbear reminding my friend of old times, and of
+the rather anti-sabbatical turn of his mind in our boyish days.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, William," said I, "do you know that you were the last boy of whom
+such an enterprise in Sabbath keeping as this was to have been expected?
+I suppose you remember Sunday at 'the old place'?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, now, I think I was the very one," said he, smiling, "for I had
+sense enough to see, as I grew up, that the day must be kept
+<i>thoroughly</i> or not at all, and I had enough blood and motion in my
+composition to see that something must be done to enliven and make it
+interesting; so I set myself about it. It was one of the first of our
+housekeeping resolutions, that the Sabbath should be made a pleasant
+day, and yet be as inviolably kept as in the strictest times of our good
+father; and we have brought things to run in that channel so long, that
+it seems to be the natural order."</p>
+
+<p>"I have always supposed," said I, "that it required a peculiar talent,
+and more than common information in a parent, to accomplish this to any
+extent."</p>
+
+<p>"It requires nothing," replied my friend, "but common sense, and a
+strong <i>determination to do it</i>. Parents who make a definite object of
+the religious instruction of their children, if they have common sense,
+can very soon see what is necessary in order to interest them; and, if
+they find themselves wanting in the requisite information, they can, in
+these days, very readily acquire it. The sources of religious knowledge
+are so numerous, and so popular in their form, that all can avail
+themselves of them. The only difficulty, after all, is, that the keeping
+of the Sabbath and the imparting of religious instruction are not made
+enough of a <i>home</i> object. Parents pass off the responsibility on to the
+Sunday school teacher, and suppose, of course, if they send their
+children to Sunday school, they do the best they can for them. Now, I am
+satisfied, from my experience as a Sabbath school teacher, that the best
+religious instruction imparted abroad still stands in need of the
+coöperation of a systematic plan of religious discipline and instruction
+at home; for, after all, God gives a power to the efforts of a <i>parent</i>
+that can never be transferred to other hands."</p>
+
+<p>"But do you suppose," said I, "that the <i>common</i> class of minds, with
+ordinary advantages, can do what you have done?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think in most cases they could, <i>if they begin</i> right. But when both
+parents and children have formed <i>habits</i>, it is more difficult to
+change than to begin right at first. However, I think <i>all</i> might
+accomplish a great deal if they would give time, money, and effort
+towards it. It is because the object is regarded of so little value,
+compared with other things of a worldly nature, that so little is done."</p>
+
+<p>My friend was here interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Fletcher with the
+children. Mrs. Fletcher sat down to the piano, and the Sabbath was
+closed with the happy songs of the little ones; nor could I notice a
+single anxious eye turning to the window to see if the sun was not
+almost down. The tender and softened expression of each countenance bore
+witness to the subduing power of those instructions which had hallowed
+the last hour, and their sweet, bird-like voices harmonized well with
+the beautiful words,&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"How sweet the light of Sabbath eve!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How soft the sunbeam lingering there!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Those holy hours this, low earth leave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And rise on wings of faith and prayer."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="LET_EVERY_MAN_MIND_HIS_OWN_BUSINESS" id="LET_EVERY_MAN_MIND_HIS_OWN_BUSINESS"></a>LET EVERY MAN MIND HIS OWN BUSINESS.</h2>
+
+
+<p>"And so you will not sign this paper?" said Alfred Melton to his cousin,
+a fine-looking young man, who was lounging by the centre table.</p>
+
+<p>"Not I, indeed. What in life have I to do with these decidedly vulgar
+temperance pledges? Pshaw! they have a relish of whiskey in their very
+essence!"</p>
+
+<p>"Come, come, Cousin Melton," said a brilliant, dark-eyed girl, who had
+been lolling on the sofa during the conference, "I beg of you to give
+over attempting to evangelize Edward. You see, as Falstaff has it, 'he
+is little better than one of the wicked.' You must not waste such
+valuable temperance documents on him."</p>
+
+<p>"But, seriously, Melton, my good fellow," resumed Edward, "this signing,
+and sealing, and pledging is altogether an unnecessary affair for me. My
+past and present habits, my situation in life,&mdash;in short, every thing
+that can be mentioned with regard to me,&mdash;goes against the supposition
+of my ever becoming the slave of a vice so debasing; and this pledging
+myself to avoid it is something altogether needless&mdash;nay, by
+implication, it is degrading. As to what you say of my influence, I am
+inclined to the opinion, that if every man will look to himself, every
+man will be looked to. This modern notion of tacking the whole
+responsibility of society on to every individual is one I am not at all
+inclined to adopt; for, first, I know it is a troublesome doctrine; and,
+secondly, I doubt if it be a true one. For both which reasons, I shall
+decline extending to it my patronage."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, positively," exclaimed the lady, "you gentlemen have the gift of
+continuance in an uncommon degree. You have discussed this matter
+backward and forward till I am ready to perish. I will take the matter
+in hand myself, and sign a temperance pledge for Edward, and see that he
+gets into none of those naughty courses upon which you have been so
+pathetic."</p>
+
+<p>"I dare say," said Melton, glancing on her brilliant face with evident
+admiration, "that you will be the best temperance pledge he could have.
+But every man, cousin, may not be so fortunate."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Melton," said Edward, "seeing my steady habits are so well
+provided for, you must carry your logic and eloquence to some poor
+fellow less favored." And thus the conference ended.</p>
+
+<p>"What a good disinterested fellow Melton is!" said Edward, after he had
+left.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, good, as the day is long," said Augusta, "but rather prosy, after
+all. This tiresome temperance business! One never hears the end of it
+nowadays. Temperance papers&mdash;temperance tracts&mdash;temperance
+hotels&mdash;temperance this, that, and the other thing, even down to
+temperance pocket handkerchiefs for little boys! Really, the world is
+getting intemperately temperate."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, well! with the security you have offered, Augusta, I shall dread no
+temptation."</p>
+
+<p>Though there was nothing peculiar in these words, yet there was a
+certain earnestness of tone that called the color into the face of
+Augusta, and set her to sewing with uncommon assiduity. And thereupon
+Edward proceeded with some remark about "guardian angels," together with
+many other things of the kind, which, though they contain no more that
+is new than a temperance lecture, always seem to have a peculiar
+freshness to people in certain circumstances. In fact, before the hour
+was at an end, Edward and Augusta had forgotten where they began, and
+had wandered far into that land of anticipations and bright dreams which
+surrounds the young and loving before they eat of the tree of
+experience, and gain the fatal knowledge of good and evil.</p>
+
+<p>But here, stopping our sketching pencil, let us throw in a little
+background and perspective that will enable our readers to perceive more
+readily the entire picture.</p>
+
+<p>Edward Howard was a young man whose brilliant talents and captivating
+manners had placed him first in the society in which he moved. Though
+without property or weight of family connections, he had become a leader
+in the circles where these appendages are most considered, and there
+were none of their immunities and privileges that were not freely at his
+disposal.</p>
+
+<p>Augusta Elmore was conspicuous in all that lies within the sphere of
+feminine attainment. She was an orphan, and accustomed from a very early
+age to the free enjoyment and control of an independent property. This
+circumstance, doubtless, added to the magic of her personal graces in
+procuring for her that flattering deference which beauty and wealth
+secure.</p>
+
+<p>Her mental powers were naturally superior, although, from want of
+motive, they had received no development, except such as would secure
+success in society. Native good sense, with great strength of feeling
+and independence of mind, had saved her from becoming heartless and
+frivolous. She was better fitted to lead and to influence than to be
+influenced or led. And hence, though not swayed by any habitual sense of
+moral responsibility, the tone of her character seemed altogether more
+elevated than the average of fashionable society.</p>
+
+<p>General expectation had united the destiny of two persons who seemed
+every way fitted for each other, and for once general expectation did
+not err. A few months after the interview mentioned were witnessed the
+festivities and congratulations of their brilliant and happy marriage.</p>
+
+<p>Never did two young persons commence life under happier auspices. "What
+an exact match!" "What a beautiful couple!" said all the gossips. "They
+seem made for each other," said every one; and so thought the happy
+lovers themselves.</p>
+
+<p>Love, which with persons of strong character is always an earnest and
+sobering principle, had made them thoughtful and considerate; and as
+they looked forward to future life, and talked of the days before them,
+their plans and ideas were as rational as any plans can be, when formed
+entirely with reference to this life, without any regard to another.</p>
+
+<p>For a while their absorbing attachment to each other tended to withdraw
+them from the temptations and allurements of company; and many a long
+winter evening passed delightfully in the elegant quietude of home, as
+they read, and sang, and talked of the past, and dreamed of the future
+in each other's society. But, contradictory as it may appear to the
+theory of the sentimentalist, it is nevertheless a fact, that two
+persons cannot always find sufficient excitement in talking to each
+other merely; and this is especially true of those to whom high
+excitement has been a necessary of life. After a while, the young
+couple, though loving each other none the less, began to respond to the
+many calls which invited them again into society, and the pride they
+felt in each other added zest to the pleasures of their return.</p>
+
+<p>As the gaze of admiration followed the graceful motions of the beautiful
+wife, and the whispered tribute went round the circle whenever she
+entered, Edward felt a pride beyond all that flattery, addressed to
+himself, had ever excited; and Augusta, when told of the convivial
+talents and powers of entertainment which distinguished her husband,
+could not resist the temptation of urging him into society even oftener
+than his own wishes would have led him.</p>
+
+<p>Alas! neither of them knew the perils of constant excitement, nor
+supposed that, in thus alienating themselves from the pure and simple
+pleasures of home, they were risking their whole capital of happiness.
+It is in indulging the first desire for extra stimulus that the first
+and deepest danger to domestic peace lies. Let that stimulus be either
+bodily or mental, its effects are alike to be dreaded.</p>
+
+<p>The man or the woman to whom habitual excitement of any kind has become
+essential has taken the first step towards ruin. In the case of a woman,
+it leads to discontent, fretfulness, and dissatisfaction with the quiet
+duties of domestic life; in the case of a man, it leads almost
+invariably to animal stimulus, ruinous alike to the powers of body and
+mind.</p>
+
+<p>Augusta, fondly trusting to the virtue of her husband, saw no danger in
+the constant round of engagements which were gradually drawing his
+attention from the graver cares of business, from the pursuit of
+self-improvement, and from the love of herself. Already there was in her
+horizon the cloud "as big as a man's hand"&mdash;the precursor of future
+darkness and tempest; but, too confident and buoyant, she saw it not.</p>
+
+<p>It was not until the cares and duties of a mother began to confine her
+at home, that she first felt, with a startling sensation of fear, that
+there was an alteration in her husband, though even then the change was
+so shadowy and indefinite that it could not be defined by words.</p>
+
+<p>It was known by that quick, prophetic sense which reveals to the heart
+of woman the first variation in the pulse of affection, though it be so
+slight that no other touch can detect it.</p>
+
+<p>Edward was still fond, affectionate, admiring; and when he tendered her
+all the little attentions demanded by her situation, or caressed and
+praised his beautiful son, she felt satisfied and happy. But when she
+saw that, even without her, the convivial circle had its attractions,
+and that he could leave her to join it, she sighed, she scarce knew why.
+"Surely," she said, "I am not so selfish as to wish to rob him of
+pleasure because I cannot enjoy it with him. But yet, once he told me
+there was no pleasure where I was not. Alas! is it true, what I have so
+often heard, that such feelings cannot always last?"</p>
+
+<p>Poor Augusta! she knew not how deep reason she had to fear. She saw not
+the temptations that surrounded her husband in the circles where to all
+the stimulus of wit and intellect was often added the zest of <i>wine</i>,
+used far too freely for safety.</p>
+
+<p>Already had Edward become familiar with a degree of physical excitement
+which touches the very verge of intoxication; yet, strong in
+self-confidence, and deluded by the customs of society, he dreamed not
+of danger. The traveller who has passed above the rapids of Niagara may
+have noticed the spot where the first white sparkling ripple announces
+the downward tendency of the waters. All here is brilliancy and beauty;
+and as the waters ripple and dance in the sunbeam, they seem only as if
+inspired by a spirit of new life, and not as hastening to a dreadful
+fall. So the first approach to intemperance, that ruins both body and
+soul, seems only like the buoyancy and exulting freshness of a new life,
+and the unconscious voyager feels his bark undulating with a thrill of
+delight, ignorant of the inexorable hurry, the tremendous sweep, with
+which the laughing waters urge him on beyond the reach of hope or
+recovery.</p>
+
+<p>It was at this period in the life of Edward that one judicious and manly
+friend, who would have had the courage to point out to him the danger
+that every one else perceived, might have saved him. But among the
+circle of his acquaintances there was none such. "<i>Let every man mind
+his own business</i>" was their universal maxim. True, heads were gravely
+shaken, and Mr. A. regretted to Mr. B. that so promising a young man
+seemed about to ruin himself. But one was "<i>no relation</i>," of Edward's,
+and the other "felt a delicacy in speaking on such a subject," and
+therefore, according to a very ancient precedent, they "passed by on the
+other side." Yet it was at Mr. A.'s sideboard, always sparkling with the
+choicest wine, that he had felt the first excitement of extra stimulus;
+it was at Mr. B.'s house that the convivial club began to hold their
+meetings, which, after a time, found a more appropriate place in a
+public hotel. It is thus that the sober, the regular, and the discreet,
+whose constitution saves them from liabilities to excess, will accompany
+the ardent and excitable to the very verge of danger, and then wonder at
+their want of self-control.</p>
+
+<p>It was a cold winter evening, and the wind whistled drearily around the
+closed shutters of the parlor in which Augusta was sitting. Every thing
+around her bore the marks of elegance and comfort.</p>
+
+<p>Splendid books and engravings lay about in every direction. Vases of
+rare and costly flowers exhaled perfume, and magnificent mirrors
+multiplied every object. All spoke of luxury and repose, save the
+anxious and sad countenance of its mistress.</p>
+
+<p>It was late, and she had watched anxiously for her husband for many long
+hours. She drew out her gold and diamond repeater, and looked at it. It
+was long past midnight. She sighed as she remembered the pleasant
+evenings they had passed together, as her eye fell on the books they had
+read together, and on her piano and harp, now silent, and thought of all
+he had said and looked in those days when each was all to the other.</p>
+
+<p>She was aroused from this melancholy revery by a loud knocking at the
+street door. She hastened to open it, but started back at the sight it
+disclosed&mdash;her husband borne by four men.</p>
+
+<p>"Dead! is he dead?" she screamed, in agony.</p>
+
+<p>"No, ma'am," said one of the men, "but he might as well be dead as in
+such a fix as this."</p>
+
+<p>The whole truth, in all its degradation, flashed on the mind of Augusta.
+Without a question or comment, she motioned to the sofa in the parlor,
+and her husband was laid there. She locked the street door, and when the
+last retreating footstep had died away, she turned to the sofa, and
+stood gazing in fixed and almost stupefied silence on the face of her
+senseless husband.</p>
+
+<p>At once she realized the whole of her fearful lot. She saw before her
+the blight of her own affections, the ruin of her helpless children, the
+disgrace and misery of her husband. She looked around her in helpless
+despair, for she well knew the power of the vice whose deadly seal was
+set upon her husband. As one who is struggling and sinking in the waters
+casts a last dizzy glance at the green sunny banks and distant trees
+which seem sliding from his view, so did all the scenes of her happy
+days pass in a moment before her, and she groaned aloud in bitterness of
+spirit. "Great God! help me, help me," she prayed. "Save him&mdash;O, save my
+husband."</p>
+
+<p>Augusta was a woman of no common energy of spirit, and when the first
+wild burst of anguish was over, she resolved not to be wanting to her
+husband and children in a crisis so dreadful.</p>
+
+<p>"When he awakes," she mentally exclaimed, "I will warn and implore; I
+will pour out my whole soul to save him. My poor husband, you have been
+misled&mdash;betrayed. But you are too good, too generous, too noble to be
+sacrificed without a struggle."</p>
+
+<p>It was late the next morning before the stupor in which Edward was
+plunged began to pass off. He slowly opened his eyes, started up wildly,
+gazed hurriedly around the room, till his eye met the fixed and
+sorrowful gaze of his wife. The past instantly flashed upon him, and a
+deep flush passed over his countenance. There was a dead, a solemn
+silence, until Augusta, yielding to her agony, threw herself into his
+arms, and wept.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you do not hate me, Augusta?" said he, sorrowfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Hate you&mdash;never! But, O Edward, Edward, what has beguiled you?"</p>
+
+<p>"My wife&mdash;you once promised to be my guardian in virtue&mdash;such you are,
+and will be. O Augusta! you have looked on what you shall never see
+again&mdash;never&mdash;never&mdash;so help me God!" said he, looking up with solemn
+earnestness.</p>
+
+<p>And Augusta, as she gazed on the noble face, the ardent expression of
+sincerity and remorse, could not doubt that her husband was saved. But
+Edward's plan of reformation had one grand defect. It was merely
+modification and retrenchment, and not <i>entire abandonment</i>. He could
+not feel it necessary to cut himself off entirely from the scenes and
+associations where temptation had met him. He considered not that, when
+the temperate flow of the blood and the even balance of the nerves have
+once been destroyed, there is, ever after, a double and fourfold
+liability, which often makes a man the sport of the first untoward
+chance.</p>
+
+<p>He still contrived to stimulate sufficiently to prevent the return of a
+calm and healthy state of the mind and body, and to make constant
+self-control and watchfulness necessary.</p>
+
+<p>It is a great mistake to call nothing intemperance but that degree of
+physical excitement which completely overthrows the mental powers. There
+is a state of nervous excitability, resulting from what is often called
+moderate stimulation, which often long precedes this, and is, in regard
+to it, like the premonitory warnings of the fatal cholera&mdash;an
+unsuspected draught on the vital powers, from which, at any moment, they
+may sink into irremediable collapse.</p>
+
+<p>It is in this state, often, that the spirit of gambling or of wild
+speculation is induced by the morbid cravings of an over-stimulated
+system. Unsatisfied with the healthy and regular routine of business,
+and the laws of gradual and solid prosperity, the excited and unsteady
+imagination leads its subjects to daring risks, with the alternative of
+unbounded gain on the one side, or of utter ruin on the other. And when,
+as is too often the case, that ruin comes, unrestrained and desperate
+intemperance is the wretched resort to allay the ravings of
+disappointment and despair.</p>
+
+<p>Such was the case with Edward. He had lost his interest in his regular
+business, and he embarked the bulk of his property in a brilliant scheme
+then in vogue; and when he found a crisis coming, threatening ruin and
+beggary, he had recourse to the fatal stimulus, which, alas! he had
+never wholly abandoned.</p>
+
+<p>At this time he spent some months in a distant city, separated from his
+wife and family, while the insidious power of temptation daily
+increased, as he kept up, by artificial stimulus, the flagging vigor of
+his mind and nervous system.</p>
+
+<p>It came at last&mdash;the blow which shattered alike his brilliant dreams and
+his real prosperity. The large fortune brought by his wife vanished in a
+moment, so that scarcely a pittance remained in his hands. From the
+distant city where he had been to superintend his schemes, he thus wrote
+to his too confiding wife:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Augusta, all is over! expect no more from your husband&mdash;believe no more
+of his promises&mdash;for he is lost to you and you to him. Augusta, our
+property is gone; <i>your</i> property, which I have blindly risked, is all
+swallowed up. But is that the worst? No, no, Augusta; <i>I</i> am lost&mdash;lost,
+body and soul, and as irretrievably as the perishing riches I have
+squandered. Once I had energy&mdash;health&mdash;nerve&mdash;resolution; but all are
+gone: yes, yes, I have yielded&mdash;I do yield daily to what is at once my
+tormentor and my temporary refuge from intolerable misery. You remember
+the sad hour you first knew your husband was a drunkard. Your look on
+that morning of misery&mdash;shall I ever forget it? Yet, blind and confiding
+as you were, how soon did your ill-judged confidence in me return! Vain
+hopes! I was even then past recovery&mdash;even then sealed over to blackness
+of darkness forever.</p>
+
+<p>"Alas! my wife, my peerless wife, why am I your husband? why the father
+of such children as you have given me? Is there nothing in your
+unequalled loveliness&mdash;nothing in the innocence of our helpless babes,
+that is powerful enough to recall me? No, there is not.</p>
+
+<p>"Augusta, you know not the dreadful gnawing, the intolerable agony of
+this master passion. I walk the floor&mdash;I think of my own dear home, my
+high hopes, my proud expectations, my children, my wife, my own immortal
+soul. I feel that I am sacrificing all&mdash;feel it till I am withered with
+agony; but the hour comes&mdash;the burning hour, and <i>all is in vain</i>. I
+shall return to you no more, Augusta. All the little wreck I have saved
+I send: you have friends, relatives&mdash;above all, you have an energy of
+mind, a capacity of resolute action, beyond that of ordinary women, and
+you shall never be bound&mdash;the living to the dead. True, you will suffer,
+thus to burst the bonds that unite us; but be resolute, for you will
+suffer more to watch from day to day the slow workings of death and ruin
+in your husband. Would you stay with me, to see every vestige of what
+you once loved passing away&mdash;to endure the caprice, the moroseness, the
+delirious anger of one no longer master of himself? Would you make your
+children victims and fellow-sufferers with you? No! dark and dreadful is
+my path! I will walk it alone: no one shall go with me.</p>
+
+<p>"In some peaceful retirement you may concentrate your strong feelings
+upon your children, and bring them up to fill a place in your heart
+which a worthless husband has abandoned. If I leave you now, you will
+remember me as I have been&mdash;you will love me and weep for me when dead;
+but if you stay with me, your love will be worn out; I shall become the
+object of disgust and loathing. Therefore farewell, my wife&mdash;my first,
+best love, farewell! with you I part with hope,&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">'And with hope, farewell fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Farewell remorse: all good to me is lost:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Evil, be thou my good.'<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>This is a wild strain, but fit for me: do not seek for me, do not write:
+nothing can save me."</p>
+
+<p>Thus abruptly began and ended the letter that conveyed to Augusta the
+death doom of her hopes. There are moments of agony when the most
+worldly heart is pressed upward to God, even as a weight will force
+upward the reluctant water. Augusta had been a generous, a high-minded,
+an affectionate woman, but she had lived entirely for this world. Her
+chief good had been her husband and her children. These had been her
+pride, her reliance, her dependence. Strong in her own resources, she
+had never felt the need of looking to a higher power for assistance and
+happiness. But when this letter fell from her trembling hand, her heart
+died within her at its wild and reckless bitterness.</p>
+
+<p>In her desperation she looked up to God. "What have I to live for now?"
+was the first feeling of her heart.</p>
+
+<p>But she repressed this inquiry of selfish agony, and besought almighty
+assistance to nerve her weakness; and here first began that practical
+acquaintance with the truths and hopes of religion which changed her
+whole character.</p>
+
+<p>The possibility of blind, confiding idolatry of any earthly object was
+swept away by the fall of her husband, and with the full energy of a
+decided and desolate spirit, she threw herself on the protection of an
+almighty Helper. She followed her husband to the city whither he had
+gone, found him, and vainly attempted to save.</p>
+
+<p>There were the usual alternations of short-lived reformations, exciting
+hopes only to be destroyed. There was the gradual sinking of the body,
+the decay of moral feeling and principle&mdash;the slow but sure approach of
+disgusting animalism, which marks the progress of the drunkard.</p>
+
+<p>It was some years after that a small and partly ruinous tenement in the
+outskirts of A. received a new family. The group consisted of four
+children, whose wan and wistful countenances, and still, unchildlike
+deportment, testified an early acquaintance with want and sorrow. There
+was the mother, faded and care-worn, whose dark and melancholy eyes,
+pale cheeks, and compressed lips told of years of anxiety and endurance.
+There was the father, with haggard face, unsteady step, and that
+callous, reckless air, that betrayed long familiarity with degradation
+and crime. Who, that had seen Edward Howard in the morning and freshness
+of his days, could have recognized him in this miserable husband and
+father? or who, in this worn and woe-stricken woman, would have known
+the beautiful, brilliant, and accomplished Augusta? Yet such changes are
+not fancy, as many a bitter and broken heart can testify.</p>
+
+<p>Augusta had followed her guilty husband through many a change and many a
+weary wandering. All hope of reformation had gradually faded away. Her
+own eyes had seen, her ears had heard, all those disgusting details, too
+revolting to be portrayed; for in drunkenness there is no royal road&mdash;no
+salvo for greatness of mind, refinement of taste, or tenderness of
+feeling. All alike are merged in the corruption of a moral death.</p>
+
+<p>The traveller, who met Edward reeling by the roadside, was sometimes
+startled to hear the fragments of classical lore, or wild bursts of
+half-remembered poetry, mixing strangely with the imbecile merriment of
+intoxication. But when he stopped to gaze, there was no further mark on
+his face or in his eye by which he could be distinguished from the
+loathsome and lowest drunkard.</p>
+
+<p>Augusta had come with her husband to a city where they were wholly
+unknown, that she might at least escape the degradation of their lot in
+the presence of those who had known them in better days. The long and
+dreadful struggle that annihilated the hopes of this life had raised her
+feelings to rest upon the next, and the habit of communion with God,
+induced by sorrows which nothing else could console, had given a tender
+dignity to her character such as nothing else could bestow.</p>
+
+<p>It is true, she deeply loved her children; but it was with a holy,
+chastened love, such as inspired the sentiment once breathed by Him "who
+was made perfect through sufferings."</p>
+
+<p>"For their sakes I sanctify myself, that they also may be sanctified."</p>
+
+<p>Poverty, deep poverty, had followed their steps, but yet she had not
+fainted. Talents which in her happier days had been nourished merely as
+luxuries, were now stretched to the utmost to furnish a support; while
+from the resources of her own reading she drew that which laid the
+foundation for early mental culture in her children.</p>
+
+<p>Augusta had been here but a few weeks before her footsteps were traced
+by her only brother, who had lately discovered her situation, and urged
+her to forsake her unworthy husband and find refuge with him.</p>
+
+<p>"Augusta, my sister, I have found you!" he exclaimed, as he suddenly
+entered one day, while she was busied with the work of her family.</p>
+
+<p>"Henry, my dear brother!" There was a momentary illumination of
+countenance accompanying these words, which soon faded into a mournful
+quietness, as she cast her eyes around on the scanty accommodations and
+mean apartment.</p>
+
+<p>"I see how it is, Augusta; step by step, you are sinking&mdash;dragged down
+by a vain sense of duty to one no longer worthy. I cannot bear it any
+longer; I have come to take you away."</p>
+
+<p>Augusta turned from him, and looked abstractedly out of the window. Her
+features settled in thought. Their expression gradually deepened from
+their usual tone of mild, resigned sorrow to one of keen anguish.</p>
+
+<p>"Henry," said she, turning towards him, "never was mortal woman so
+blessed in another as I once was in him. How can I forget it? Who knew
+him in those days that did not admire and love him? They tempted and
+insnared him; and even I urged him into the path of danger. He fell, and
+there was none to help. I urged reformation, and he again and again
+promised, resolved, and began. But again they tempted him&mdash;even his very
+best friends; yes, and that, too, when they knew his danger. They led
+him on as far as it was safe for <i>them</i> to go, and when the sweep of his
+more excitable temperament took him past the point of safety and
+decency, they stood by, and coolly wondered and lamented. How often was
+he led on by such heartless friends to humiliating falls, and then
+driven to desperation by the cold look, averted faces, and cruel sneers
+of those whose medium temperament and cooler blood saved them from the
+snares which they saw were enslaving him. What if <i>I</i> had forsaken him
+<i>then</i>? What account should I have rendered to God? Every time a friend
+has been alienated by his comrades, it has seemed to seal him with
+another seal. I am his wife&mdash;and mine will be <i>the last</i>. Henry, when I
+leave him, I <i>know</i> his eternal ruin is sealed. I cannot do it now; a
+little longer&mdash;a little longer; the hour, I see, must come. I know my
+duty to my children forbids me to keep them here; take them&mdash;they are my
+last earthly comforts, Henry&mdash;but you must take them away. It may be&mdash;O
+God&mdash;perhaps it <i>must be</i>, that I shall soon follow; but not till I have
+tried <i>once more</i>. What is this present life to one who has suffered as
+I have? Nothing. But eternity! O Henry! eternity&mdash;how can I abandon him
+to <i>everlasting</i> despair! Under the breaking of my heart I have borne
+up. I have borne up under <i>all</i> that can try a woman; but <i>this</i>
+thought&mdash;&mdash;" She stopped, and seemed struggling with herself; but at
+last, borne down by a tide of agony, she leaned her head on her hands;
+the tears streamed through her fingers, and her whole frame shook with
+convulsive sobs.</p>
+
+<p>Her brother wept with her; nor dared he again to touch the point so
+solemnly guarded. The next day Augusta parted from her children, hoping
+something from feelings that, possibly, might be stirred by their
+absence in the bosom of their father.</p>
+
+<p>It was about a week after this that Augusta one evening presented
+herself at the door of a rich Mr. L., whose princely mansion was one of
+the ornaments of the city of A. It was not till she reached the
+sumptuous drawing room that she recognized in Mr. L. one whom she and
+her husband had frequently met in the gay circles of their early life.
+Altered as she was, Mr. L. did not recognize her, but compassionately
+handed her a chair, and requested her to wait the return of his lady,
+who was out; and then turning, he resumed his conversation with another
+gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Dallas," said he, "you are altogether excessive and intemperate in
+this matter. Society is not to be reformed by every man directing his
+efforts towards his neighbor, but by every man taking care of himself.
+It is you and I, my dear sir, who must begin with ourselves, and every
+other man must do the same; and then society will be effectually
+reformed. Now this modern way, by which every man considers it his duty
+to attend to the spiritual matters of his next-door neighbor, is taking
+the business at the wrong end altogether. It makes a vast deal of
+appearance, but it does very little good."</p>
+
+<p>"But suppose your neighbor feels no disposition to attend to his own
+improvement&mdash;what then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, then it is his own concern, and not mine. What my Maker requires
+is, that I do <i>my</i> duty, and not fret about my neighbor's."</p>
+
+<p>"But, my friend, that is the very question. What is the duty your Maker
+requires? Does it not include some regard to your neighbor, some care
+and thought for his interest and improvement?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well, I do that by setting a good example. I do not mean by
+example what you do&mdash;that is, that I am to stop drinking wine because it
+may lead him to drink brandy, any more than that I must stop eating
+because he may eat too much and become a dyspeptic&mdash;but that I am to use
+my wine, and every thing else, temperately and decently, and thus set
+him a good example."</p>
+
+<p>The conversation was here interrupted by the return of Mrs. L. It
+recalled, in all its freshness, to the mind of Augusta the days when
+both she and her husband had thus spoken and thought.</p>
+
+<p>Ah, how did these sentiments appear to her now&mdash;lonely, helpless,
+forlorn&mdash;the wife of a ruined husband, the mother of more than orphan
+children! How different from what they seemed, when, secure in ease, in
+wealth, in gratified affections, she thoughtlessly echoed the common
+phraseology, "Why must people concern themselves so much in their
+neighbors' affairs? Let every man mind his own business."</p>
+
+<p>Augusta received in silence from Mrs. L. the fine sewing for which she
+came, and left the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Ellen," said Mr. L. to his wife; "that poor woman must be in trouble of
+some kind or other. You must go some time, and see if any thing can be
+done for her."</p>
+
+<p>"How singular!" said Mrs. L.; "she reminds me all the time of Augusta
+Howard. You remember her, my dear?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, poor thing! and her husband too. That was a shocking affair of
+Edward Howard's. I hear that he became an intemperate, worthless fellow.
+Who could have thought it!"</p>
+
+<p>"But you recollect, my dear," said Mrs. L., "I predicted it six months
+before it was talked of. You remember, at the wine party which you gave
+after Mary's wedding, he was so excited that he was hardly decent. I
+mentioned then that he was getting into dangerous ways. But he was such
+an excitable creature, that two or three glasses would put him quite
+beside himself. And there is George Eldon, who takes off his ten or
+twelve glasses, and no one suspects it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it was a great pity," replied Mr. L.; "Howard was worth a dozen
+George Eldons."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you suppose," said Dallas, who had listened thus far in silence,
+"that if he had moved in a circle where it was the universal custom to
+<i>banish all stimulating drinks</i>, he would thus have fallen?"</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot say," said Mr. L.; "perhaps not."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dallas was a gentleman of fortune and leisure, and of an ardent and
+enthusiastic temperament. Whatever engaged him absorbed his whole soul;
+and of late years, his mind had become deeply engaged in schemes of
+philanthropy for the improvement of his fellow-men. He had, in his
+benevolent ministrations, often passed the dwelling of Edward, and was
+deeply interested in the pale and patient wife and mother. He made
+acquaintance with her through the aid of her children, and, in one way
+and another, learned particulars of their history that awakened the
+deepest interest and concern. None but a mind as sanguine as his would
+have dreamed of attempting to remedy such hopeless misery by the
+reformation of him who was its cause. But such a plan had actually
+occurred to him. The remarks of Mr. and Mrs. L. recalled the idea, and
+he soon found that his intended <i>protégé</i> was the very Edward Howard
+whose early history was thus disclosed. He learned all the minutiæ from
+these his early associates without disclosing his aim, and left them
+still more resolved upon his benevolent plan.</p>
+
+<p>He watched his opportunity when Edward was free from the influence of
+stimulus, and it was just after the loss of his children had called
+forth some remains of his better nature. Gradually and kindly he tried
+to touch the springs of his mind, and awaken some of its buried
+sensibilities.</p>
+
+<p>"It is in vain, Mr. Dallas, to talk thus to me," said Edward, when, one
+day, with the strong eloquence of excited feeling, he painted the
+motives for attempting reformation; "you might as well attempt to
+reclaim the lost in hell. Do you think," he continued, in a wild,
+determined manner&mdash;"do you think I do not know all you can tell me? I
+have it all by heart, sir; no one can preach such discourses as I can on
+this subject: I know all&mdash;believe all&mdash;as the devils believe and
+tremble."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, but," said Dallas, "to you <i>there is hope</i>; you <i>are not</i> to ruin
+yourself forever."</p>
+
+<p>"And who the devil are you, to speak to me in this way?" said Edward,
+looking up from his sullen despair with a gleam of curiosity, if not of
+hope.</p>
+
+<p>"God's messenger to you, Edward Howard," said Dallas, fixing his keen
+eye upon him solemnly; "to you, Edward Howard, who have thrown away
+talents, hope, and health&mdash;who have blasted the heart of your wife, and
+beggared your suffering children. To you I am the messenger of your
+God&mdash;by me he offers health, and hope, and self-respect, and the regard
+of your fellow-men. You may heal the broken heart of your wife, and give
+back a father to your helpless children. Think of it, Howard: what if it
+were possible? Only suppose it. What would it be again to feel yourself
+a man, beloved and respected as you once were, with a happy home, a
+cheerful wife, and smiling little ones? Think how you could repay your
+poor wife for all her tears! What hinders you from gaining all this?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just what hindered the rich man in hell&mdash;'<i>between us there is a great
+gulf fixed</i>;' it lies between me and all that is good; my wife, my
+children, my hope of heaven, are all on the other side."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, but this gulf can be passed: Howard, what <i>would you give</i> to be a
+temperate man?"</p>
+
+<p>"What would I give?" said Howard. He thought for a moment, and burst
+into tears.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, I see how it is," said Dallas; "you need a friend, and God has sent
+you one."</p>
+
+<p>"What <i>can</i> you do for me, Mr. Dallas?" said Edward, in a tone of wonder
+at the confidence of his assurances.</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell you what I can do: I can take you to my house, and give you
+a room, and watch over you until the strongest temptations are past&mdash;I
+can give you business again. I can do <i>all</i> for you that needs to be
+done, if you will give yourself to my care."</p>
+
+<p>"O God of mercy!" exclaimed the unhappy man, "is there hope for me? I
+cannot believe it possible; but take me where you choose&mdash;I will follow
+and obey."</p>
+
+<p>A few hours witnessed the transfer of the lost husband to one of the
+retired apartments in the elegant mansion of Dallas, where he found his
+anxious and grateful wife still stationed as his watchful guardian.</p>
+
+<p>Medical treatment, healthful exercise, useful employment, simple food,
+and pure water were connected with a personal supervision by Dallas,
+which, while gently and politely sustained, at first amounted to actual
+imprisonment.</p>
+
+<p>For a time the reaction from the sudden suspension of habitual stimulus
+was dreadful, and even with tears did the unhappy man entreat to be
+permitted to abandon the undertaking. But the resolute steadiness of
+Dallas and the tender entreaties of his wife prevailed. It is true that
+he might be said to be saved "so as by fire;" for a fever, and a long
+and fierce delirium, wasted him almost to the borders of the grave.</p>
+
+<p>But, at length, the struggle between life and death was over, and though
+it left him stretched on the bed of sickness, emaciated and weak, yet he
+was restored to his right mind, and was conscious of returning health.
+Let any one who has laid a friend in the grave, and known what it is to
+have the heart fail with longing for them day by day, imagine the dreamy
+and unreal joy of Augusta when she began again to see in Edward the
+husband so long lost to her. It was as if the grave had given back the
+dead.</p>
+
+<p>"Augusta!" said he, faintly, as, after a long and quiet sleep, he awoke
+free from delirium. She bent over him. "Augusta, I am redeemed&mdash;I am
+saved&mdash;I feel in myself that I am made whole."</p>
+
+<p>The high heart of Augusta melted at these words. She trembled and wept.
+Her husband wept also, and after a pause he continued,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"It is more than being restored to this life&mdash;I feel that it is the
+beginning of eternal life. It is the Savior who sought me out, and I
+know that he is able to keep me from falling."</p>
+
+<p>But we will draw a veil over a scene which words have little power to
+paint.</p>
+
+<p>"Pray, Dallas," said Mr. L., one day, "who is that fine-looking young
+man whom I met in your office this morning? I thought his face seemed
+familiar."</p>
+
+<p>"It is a Mr. Howard&mdash;a young lawyer whom I have lately taken into
+business with me."</p>
+
+<p>"Strange! Impossible!" said Mr. L. "Surely this cannot be the Howard
+that I once knew."</p>
+
+<p>"I believe he is," said Mr. Dallas.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I thought he was gone&mdash;dead and done over, long ago, with
+intemperance."</p>
+
+<p>"He was so; few have ever sunk lower; but he now promises even to outdo
+all that was hoped of him."</p>
+
+<p>"Strange! Why, Dallas, what did bring about this change?"</p>
+
+<p>"I feel a delicacy in mentioning how it came about to you, Mr. L., as
+there undoubtedly was a great deal of 'interference with other men's
+matters' in the business. In short, the young man fell in the way of one
+of those meddlesome fellows, who go prowling about, distributing tracts,
+forming temperance societies, and all that sort of stuff."</p>
+
+<p>"Come, come, Dallas," said Mr. L., smiling, "I must hear the story, for
+all that."</p>
+
+<p>"First call with me at this house," said Dallas, stopping before the
+door of a neat little mansion. They were soon in the parlor. The first
+sight that met their eyes was Edward Howard, who, with a cheek glowing
+with exercise, was tossing aloft a blooming boy, while Augusta was
+watching his motions, her face radiant with smiles.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. and Mrs. Howard, this is Mr. L., an old acquaintance, I believe."</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment of mutual embarrassment and surprise, soon dispelled,
+however, by the frank cordiality of Edward. Mr. L. sat down, but could
+scarce withdraw his eyes from the countenance of Augusta, in whose
+eloquent face he recognized a beauty of a higher cast than even in her
+earlier days.</p>
+
+<p>He glanced about the apartment. It was simply but tastefully furnished,
+and wore an air of retired, domestic comfort. There were books,
+engravings, and musical instruments. Above all, there were four happy,
+healthy-looking children, pursuing studies or sports at the farther end
+of the room.</p>
+
+<p>After a short call they regained the street.</p>
+
+<p>"Dallas, you are a happy man," said Mr. L.; "that family will be a mine
+of jewels to you."</p>
+
+<p>He was right. Every soul saved from pollution and ruin is a jewel to him
+that reclaims it, whose lustre only eternity can disclose; and therefore
+it is written, "They that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the
+firmament, and they that turn many to righteousness, as the stars
+forever and ever."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="COUSIN_WILLIAM" id="COUSIN_WILLIAM"></a>COUSIN WILLIAM.</h2>
+
+
+<p>In a stately red house, in one of the villages of New England, lived the
+heroine of our story. She had every advantage of rank and wealth, for
+her father was a deacon of the church, and owned sheep, and oxen, and
+exceeding much substance. There was an appearance of respectability and
+opulence about all the demesnes. The house stood almost concealed amid a
+forest of apple trees, in spring blushing with blossoms, and in autumn
+golden with fruit. And near by might be seen the garden, surrounded by a
+red picket fence, enclosing all sorts of magnificence. There, in autumn,
+might be seen abundant squash vines, which seemed puzzled for room where
+to bestow themselves; and bright golden squashes, and full-orbed yellow
+pumpkins, looking as satisfied as the evening sun when he has just had
+his face washed in a shower, and is sinking soberly to bed. There were
+superannuated seed cucumbers, enjoying the pleasures of a contemplative
+old age; and Indian corn, nicely done up in green silk, with a specimen
+tassel hanging at the end of each ear. The beams of the summer sun
+darted through rows of crimson currants, abounding on bushes by the
+fence, while a sulky black currant bush sat scowling in one corner, a
+sort of garden curiosity.</p>
+
+<p>But time would fail us were we to enumerate all the wealth of Deacon
+Israel Taylor. He himself belonged to that necessary class of beings,
+who, though remarkable for nothing at all, are very useful in filling up
+the links of society. Far otherwise was his sister-in-law, Mrs. Abigail
+Evetts, who, on the demise of the deacon's wife, had assumed the reins
+of government in the household.</p>
+
+<p>This lady was of the same opinion that has animated many illustrious
+philosophers, namely, that the affairs of this world need a great deal
+of seeing to in order to have them go on prosperously; and although she
+did not, like them, engage in the supervision of the universe, she made
+amends by unremitting diligence in the department under her care. In her
+mind there was an evident necessity that every one should be up and
+doing: Monday, because it was washing day; Tuesday, because it was
+ironing day; Wednesday, because it was baking day; Thursday, because
+to-morrow was Friday; and so on to the end of the week. Then she had the
+care of reminding all in the house of every thing each was to do from
+week's end to week's end; and she was so faithful in this respect, that
+scarcely an original act of volition took place in the family. The poor
+deacon was reminded when he went out and when he came in, when he sat
+down and when he rose up, so that an act of omission could only have
+been committed through sheer malice prepense.</p>
+
+<p>But the supervision of a whole family of children afforded to a lady of
+her active turn of mind more abundant matter of exertion. To see that
+their faces were washed, their clothes mended, and their catechism
+learned; to see that they did not pick the flowers, nor throw stones at
+the chickens, nor sophisticate the great house dog, was an accumulation
+of care that devolved almost entirely on Mrs. Abigail, so that, by her
+own account, she lived and throve by a perpetual miracle.</p>
+
+<p>The eldest of her charge, at the time this story begins, was a girl just
+arrived at young ladyhood, and her name was Mary. Now we know that
+people very seldom have stories written about them who have not
+sylph-like forms, and glorious eyes, or, at least, "a certain
+inexpressible charm diffused over their whole person." But stories have
+of late so much abounded that they actually seem to have used up all the
+eyes, hair, teeth, lips, and forms necessary for a heroine, so that no
+one can now pretend to find an original collection wherewith to set one
+forth. These things considered, I regard it as fortunate that my heroine
+was not a beauty. She looked neither like a sylph, nor an oread, nor a
+fairy; she had neither <i>l'air distingué</i> nor <i>l'air magnifique</i>, but
+bore a great resemblance to a real mortal girl, such as you might pass a
+dozen of without any particular comment&mdash;one of those appearances,
+which, though common as water, may, like that, be colored any way by the
+associations you connect with it. Accordingly, a faultless taste in
+dress, a perfect ease and gayety of manner, a constant flow of kindly
+feeling, seemed in her case to produce all the effect of beauty. Her
+manners had just dignity enough to repel impertinence without destroying
+the careless freedom and sprightliness in which she commonly indulged.
+No person had a merrier run of stories, songs, and village traditions,
+and all those odds and ends of character which form the materials for
+animated conversation. She had read, too, every thing she could find:
+Rollin's History, and Scott's Family Bible, that stood in the glass
+bookcase in the best room, and an odd volume of Shakspeare, and now and
+then one of Scott's novels, borrowed from a somewhat literary family in
+the neighborhood. She also kept an album to write her thoughts in, and
+was in a constant habit of cutting out all the pretty poetry from the
+corners of the newspapers, besides drying forget-me-nots and rosebuds,
+in memory of different particular friends, with a number of other little
+sentimental practices to which young ladies of sixteen and thereabout
+are addicted. She was also endowed with great constructiveness;
+so that, in these days of ladies' fairs, there was nothing from
+bellows-needlebooks down to web-footed pincushions to which she could
+not turn her hand. Her sewing certainly <i>was</i> extraordinary, (we think
+too little is made of this in the accomplishments of heroines;) her
+stitching was like rows of pearls, and her cross-stitching was
+fairy-like; and for sewing over and over, as the village schoolma'am
+hath it, she had not her equal. And what shall we say of her pies and
+puddings? They would have converted the most reprobate old bachelor in
+the world. And then her sweeping and dusting! "Many daughters have done
+virtuously, but thou excellest them all!"</p>
+
+<p>And now, what do you suppose is coming next? Why, a young gentleman, of
+course; for about this time comes to settle in the village, and take
+charge of the academy, a certain William Barton. Now, if you wish to
+know more particularly who he was, we only wish we could refer you to
+Mrs. Abigail, who was most accomplished in genealogies and old wifes'
+fables, and she would have told you that "her gran'ther, Ike Evetts,
+married a wife who was second cousin to Peter Scranton, who was great
+uncle to Polly Mosely, whose daughter Mary married William Barton's
+father, just about the time old 'Squire Peter's house was burned down."
+And then would follow an account of the domestic history of all branches
+of the family since they came over from England. Be that as it may, it
+is certain that Mrs. Abigail denominated him cousin, and that he came to
+the deacon's to board; and he had not been there more than a week, and
+made sundry observations on Miss Mary, before he determined to call her
+cousin too, which he accomplished in the most natural way in the world.</p>
+
+<p>Mary was at first somewhat afraid of him, because she had heard that he
+had studied through all that was to be studied in Greek, and Latin, and
+German too; and she saw a library of books in his room, that made her
+sigh every time she looked at them, to think how much there was to be
+learned of which she was ignorant. But all this wore away, and presently
+they were the best friends in the world. He gave her books to read, and
+he gave her lessons in French, nothing puzzled by that troublesome verb
+which must be first conjugated, whether in French, Latin, or English.
+Then he gave her a deal of good advice about the cultivation of her mind
+and the formation of her character, all of which was very improving, and
+tended greatly to consolidate their friendship. But, unfortunately for
+Mary, William made quite as favorable an impression on the female
+community generally as he did on her, having distinguished himself on
+certain public occasions, such as delivering lectures on botany, and
+also, at the earnest request of the fourth of July committee, pronounced
+an oration which covered him with glory. He had been known, also, to
+write poetry, and had a retired and romantic air greatly bewitching to
+those who read Bulwer's novels. In short, it was morally certain,
+according to all rules of evidence, that if he had chosen to pay any
+lady of the village a dozen visits a week, she would have considered it
+as her duty to entertain him.</p>
+
+<p>William did visit; for, like many studious people, he found a need for
+the excitement of society; but, whether it was party or singing school,
+he walked home with Mary, of course, in as steady and domestic a manner
+as any man who has been married a twelvemonth. His air in conversing
+with her was inevitably more confidential than with any other one, and
+this was cause for envy in many a gentle breast, and an interesting
+diversity of reports with regard to her manner of treating the young
+gentleman went forth into the village.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder Mary Taylor will laugh and joke so much with William Barton in
+company," said one. "Her manners are altogether too free," said another.
+"It is evident she has designs upon him," remarked a third. "And she
+cannot even conceal it," pursued a fourth.</p>
+
+<p>Some sayings of this kind at length reached the ears of Mrs. Abigail,
+who had the best heart in the world, and was so indignant that it might
+have done your heart good to see her. Still she thought it showed that
+"the girl needed <i>advising</i>;" and "she should <i>talk</i> to Mary about the
+matter."</p>
+
+<p>But she first concluded to advise with William on the subject; and,
+therefore, after dinner the same day, while he was looking over a
+treatise on trigonometry or conic sections, she commenced upon him:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Our Mary is growing up a fine girl."</p>
+
+<p>William was intent on solving a problem, and only understanding that
+something had been said, mechanically answered, "Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"A little wild or so," said Mrs. Abigail.</p>
+
+<p>"I know it," said William, fixing his eyes earnestly on E, F, B, C.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you think her a little too talkative and free with you
+sometimes; you know girls do not always think what they do."</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly," said William, going on with his problem.</p>
+
+<p>"I think you had better speak to her about it," said Mrs. Abigail.</p>
+
+<p>"I think so too," said William, musing over his completed work, till at
+length he arose, put it in his pocket, and went to school.</p>
+
+<p>O, this unlucky concentrativeness! How many shocking things a man may
+indorse by the simple habit of saying "Yes" and "No," when he is not
+hearing what is said to him.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning, when William was gone to the academy, and Mary was
+washing the breakfast things, Aunt Abigail introduced the subject with
+great tact and delicacy by remarking.&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Mary, I guess you had better be rather less free with William than you
+have been."</p>
+
+<p>"Free!" said Mary, starting, and nearly dropping the cup from her hand;
+"why, aunt, what <i>do</i> you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Mary, you must not always be around so free in talking with him,
+at home, and in company, and every where. It won't do." The color
+started into Mary's cheek, and mounted even to her forehead, as she
+answered with a dignified air,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I have not been too free; I know what is right and proper; I have not
+been doing any thing that was improper."</p>
+
+<p>Now, when one is going to give advice, it is very troublesome to have
+its necessity thus called in question; and Mrs. Abigail, who was fond of
+her own opinion, felt called upon to defend it.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, yes, you have, Mary; every body in the village notices it."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care what every body in the village says. I shall always do
+what I think proper," retorted the young lady; "I know Cousin William
+does not think so."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, <i>I</i> think he does, from some things I have heard him say."</p>
+
+<p>"O aunt! what have you heard him say?" said Mary, nearly upsetting a
+chair in the eagerness with which she turned to her aunt.</p>
+
+<p>"Mercy on us! you need not knock the house down, Mary. I don't remember
+exactly about it, only that his way of speaking made me think so."</p>
+
+<p>"O aunt! do tell me what it was, and all about it," said Mary, following
+her aunt, who went around dusting the furniture.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Abigail, like most obstinate people, who feel that they have gone
+too far, and yet are ashamed to go back, took refuge in an obstinate
+generalization, and only asserted that she had heard him say things, as
+if he did not quite like her ways.</p>
+
+<p>This is the most consoling of all methods in which to leave a matter of
+this kind for a person of active imagination. Of course, in five
+minutes, Mary had settled in her mind a list of remarks that would have
+been suited to any of her village companions, as coming from her cousin.
+All the improbability of the thing vanished in the absorbing
+consideration of its possibility; and, after a moment's reflection, she
+pressed her lips together in a very firm way, and remarked that "Mr.
+Barton would have no occasion to say such things again."</p>
+
+<p>It was very evident, from her heightened color and dignified air, that
+her state of mind was very heroical. As for poor Aunt Abigail, she felt
+sorry she had vexed her, and addressed herself most earnestly to her
+consolation, remarking, "Mary, I don't suppose William meant any thing.
+He knows you don't mean any thing wrong."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't <i>mean</i> any thing wrong!" said Mary, indignantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, child, he thinks you don't know much about folks and things, and
+if you have been a little&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But I have not been. It was he that talked with me first. It was he
+that did every thing first. He called me cousin&mdash;and he <i>is</i> my cousin."</p>
+
+<p>"No, child, you are mistaken; for you remember his grandfather was&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care who his grandfather was; he has no right to think of me as
+he does."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Mary, don't go to quarrelling with him; he can't help his
+thoughts, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care what he thinks," said Mary, flinging out of the room with
+tears in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Now, when a young lady is in such a state of affliction, the first thing
+to be done is to sit down and cry for two hours or more, which Mary
+accomplished in the most thorough manner; in the mean while making many
+reflections on the instability of human friendships, and resolving never
+to trust any one again as long as she lived, and thinking that this was
+a cold and hollow-hearted world, together with many other things she had
+read in books, but never realized so forcibly as at present. But what
+was to be done? Of course she did not wish to speak a word to William
+again, and wished he did not board there; and finally she put on her
+bonnet, and determined to go over to her other aunt's in the
+neighborhood, and spend the day, so that she might not see him at
+dinner.</p>
+
+<p>But it so happened that Mr. William, on coming home at noon, found
+himself unaccountably lonesome during school recess for dinner, and
+hearing where Mary was, determined to call after school at night at her
+aunt's, and attend her home.</p>
+
+<p>Accordingly, in the afternoon, as Mary was sitting in the parlor with
+two or three cousins, Mr. William entered.</p>
+
+<p>Mary was so anxious to look just as if nothing was the matter, that she
+turned away her head, and began to look out of the window just as the
+young gentleman came up to speak to her. So, after he had twice inquired
+after her health, she drew up very coolly, and said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Did you speak to me, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>William looked a little surprised at first, but seating himself by her,
+"To be sure," said he; "and I came to know why you ran away without
+leaving any message for me?"</p>
+
+<p>"It did not occur to me," said Mary, in the dry tone which, in a lady,
+means, "I will excuse you from any further conversation, if you please."
+William felt as if there was something different from common in all
+this, but thought that perhaps he was mistaken, and so continued:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"What a pity, now, that you should be so careless of me, when I was so
+thoughtful of you! I have come all this distance, to see how you do."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry to have given you the trouble," said Mary.</p>
+
+<p>"Cousin, are you unwell to-day?" said William.</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir," said Mary, going on with her sewing.</p>
+
+<p>There was something so marked and decisive in all this, that William
+could scarcely believe his ears. He turned away, and commenced a
+conversation with a young lady; and Mary, to show that she could talk if
+she chose, commenced relating a story to her cousins, and presently they
+were all in a loud laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"Mary has been full of her knickknacks to-day," said her old uncle,
+joining them.</p>
+
+<p>William looked at her: she never seemed brighter or in better spirits,
+and he began to think that even Cousin Mary might puzzle a man
+sometimes.</p>
+
+<p>He turned away, and began a conversation with old Mr. Zachary Coan on
+the raising of buckwheat&mdash;a subject which evidently required profound
+thought, for he never looked more grave, not to say melancholy.</p>
+
+<p>Mary glanced that way, and was struck with the sad and almost severe
+expression with which he was listening to the details of Mr. Zachary,
+and was convinced that he was no more thinking of buckwheat than she
+was.</p>
+
+<p>"I never thought of hurting his feelings so much," said she, relenting;
+"after all, he has been very kind to me. But he might have told me about
+it, and not somebody else." And hereupon she cast another glance towards
+him.</p>
+
+<p>William was not talking, but sat with his eyes fixed on the
+snuffer-tray, with an intense gravity of gaze that quite troubled her,
+and she could not help again blaming herself.</p>
+
+<p>"To be sure! Aunt was right; he could not help his thoughts. I will try
+to forget it," thought she.</p>
+
+<p>Now, you must not think Mary was sitting still and gazing during this
+soliloquy. No, she was talking and laughing, apparently the most
+unconcerned spectator in the room. So passed the evening till the little
+company broke up.</p>
+
+<p>"I am ready to attend you home," said William, in a tone of cold and
+almost haughty deference.</p>
+
+<p>"I am obliged to you," said the young lady, in a similar tone, "but I
+shall stay all night;" then, suddenly changing her tone, she said, "No,
+I cannot keep it up any longer. I will go home with you, Cousin
+William."</p>
+
+<p>"Keep up what?" said William, with surprise.</p>
+
+<p>Mary was gone for her bonnet. She came out, took his arm, and walked on
+a little way.</p>
+
+<p>"You have advised me always to be frank, cousin," said Mary, "and I must
+and will be; so I shall tell you all, though I dare say it is not
+according to rule."</p>
+
+<p>"All what?" said William.</p>
+
+<p>"Cousin," said she, not at all regarding what he said, "I was very much
+vexed this afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>"So I perceived, Mary."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it is vexatious," she continued, "though, after all, we cannot
+expect people to think us perfect; but I did not think it quite fair in
+you not to tell <i>me</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell you what, Mary?"</p>
+
+<p>Here they came to a place where the road turned through a small patch of
+woods. It was green and shady, and enlivened by a lively chatterbox of a
+brook. There was a mossy trunk of a tree that had fallen beside it, and
+made a pretty seat. The moonlight lay in little patches upon it, as it
+streamed down through the branches of the trees. It was a fairy-looking
+place, and Mary stopped and sat down, as if to collect her thoughts.
+After picking up a stick, and playing a moment in the water, she
+began:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"After all, cousin, it was very natural in you to say so, if you thought
+so; though I should not have supposed you would think so."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I should be glad if I could know what it is," said William, in a
+tone of patient resignation.</p>
+
+<p>"O, I forgot that I had not told you," said she, pushing back her hat,
+and speaking like one determined to go through with the thing. "Why,
+cousin, I have been told that you spoke of my manners towards yourself
+as being freer&mdash;more&mdash;obtrusive than they should be. And now," said she,
+her eyes flashing, "you see it was not a very easy thing to tell you,
+but I began with being frank, and I will be so, for the sake of
+satisfying <i>myself</i>."</p>
+
+<p>To this William simply replied, "Who told you this, Mary?"</p>
+
+<p>"My aunt."</p>
+
+<p>"Did she say I said it to her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; and I do not so much object to your saying it as to your
+<i>thinking</i> it, for you know I did not force myself on your notice; it
+was you who sought my acquaintance and won my confidence; and that you,
+above all others, should think of me in this way!"</p>
+
+<p>"I never did think so, Mary," said William, quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"Nor ever <i>said</i> so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Never. I should think you might have <i>known</i> it, Mary."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;&mdash;" said Mary.</p>
+
+<p>"But," said William, firmly, "Aunt Abigail is certainly mistaken."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I am glad of it," said Mary, looking relieved, and gazing in the
+brook. Then looking up with warmth, "and, cousin, you never must think
+so. I am ardent, and I express myself freely; but I never meant, I am
+sure I never <i>should</i> mean, any thing more than a sister might say."</p>
+
+<p>"And are you sure you never could, if all my happiness depended on it,
+Mary?"</p>
+
+<p>She turned and looked up in his face, and saw a look that brought
+conviction. She rose to go on, and her hand was taken and drawn into the
+arm of her cousin, and that was the end of the first and the last
+difficulty that ever arose between them.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_MINISTRATION_OF_OUR_DEPARTED_FRIENDS" id="THE_MINISTRATION_OF_OUR_DEPARTED_FRIENDS"></a>THE MINISTRATION OF OUR DEPARTED FRIENDS.</h2>
+
+<h3>A NEW YEAR'S REVERY.</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"It is a beautiful belief,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That ever round our head<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are hovering on viewless wings<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The spirits of the dead."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>While every year is taking one and another from the ranks of life and
+usefulness, or the charmed circle of friendship and love, it is soothing
+to remember that the spiritual world is gaining in riches through the
+poverty of this.</p>
+
+<p>In early life, with our friends all around us,&mdash;hearing their voices,
+cheered by their smiles,&mdash;death and the spiritual world are to us
+remote, misty, and half-fabulous; but as we advance in our journey, and
+voice after voice is hushed, and form after form vanishes from our side,
+and our shadow falls almost solitary on the hillside of life, the soul,
+by a necessity of its being, tends to the unseen and spiritual, and
+pursues in another life those it seeks in vain in this.</p>
+
+<p>For with every friend that dies, dies also some especial form of social
+enjoyment, whose being depended on the peculiar character of that
+friend; till, late in the afternoon of life, the pilgrim seems to
+himself to have passed over to the unseen world in successive portions
+half his own spirit; and poor indeed is he who has not familiarized
+himself with that unknown, whither, despite himself, his soul is
+earnestly tending.</p>
+
+<p>One of the deepest and most imperative cravings of the human heart, as
+it follows its beloved ones beyond the veil, is for some assurance that
+they still love and care for us. Could we firmly believe this,
+bereavement would lose half its bitterness. As a German writer
+beautifully expresses it, "Our friend is not wholly gone from us; we see
+across the river of death, in the blue distance, the smoke of his
+cottage;" hence the heart, always creating what it desires, has ever
+made the guardianship and ministration of departed spirits a favorite
+theme of poetic fiction.</p>
+
+<p>But is it, then, fiction? Does revelation, which gives so many hopes
+which nature had not, give none here? Is there no sober certainty to
+correspond to the inborn and passionate craving of the soul? Do departed
+spirits in verity retain any knowledge of what transpires in this world,
+and take any part in its scenes? All that revelation says of a spiritual
+state is more intimation than assertion; it has no distinct treatise,
+and teaches nothing apparently of set purpose; but gives vague, glorious
+images, while now and then some accidental ray of intelligence looks
+out,&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"&mdash;&mdash;like eyes of cherubs shining<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From out the veil that hid the ark."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>But out of all the different hints and assertions of the Bible we think
+a better inferential argument might be constructed to prove the
+ministration of departed spirits than for many a doctrine which has
+passed in its day for the height of orthodoxy.</p>
+
+<p>First, then, the Bible distinctly says that there is a class of
+invisible spirits who minister to the children of men: "Are they not all
+ministering spirits, sent forth to minister to those who shall be heirs
+of salvation?" It is said of little children, that "their angels do
+always behold the face of our Father which is in heaven." This last
+passage, from the words of our Savior, taken in connection with the
+well-known tradition of his time, fully recognizes the idea of
+individual guardian spirits; for God's government over mind is, it
+seems, throughout, one of intermediate agencies, and these not chosen at
+random, but with the nicest reference to their adaptation to the purpose
+intended. Not even the All-seeing, All-knowing One was deemed perfectly
+adapted to become a human Savior without a human experience. Knowledge
+intuitive, gained from above, of human wants and woes was not enough&mdash;to
+it must be added the home-born certainty of consciousness and memory;
+the Head of all mediation must become human. Is it likely, then, that,
+in selecting subordinate agencies, this so necessary a requisite of a
+human life and experience is overlooked? While around the throne of God
+stand spirits, now sainted and glorified, yet thrillingly conscious of a
+past experience of sin and sorrow, and trembling in sympathy with
+temptations and struggles like their own, is it likely that he would
+pass by these souls, thus burning for the work, and commit it to those
+bright abstract beings whose knowledge and experience are comparatively
+so distant and so cold?</p>
+
+<p>It is strongly in confirmation of this idea, that in the transfiguration
+scene&mdash;which seems to have been intended purposely to give the disciples
+a glimpse of the glorified state of their Master&mdash;we find him attended
+by two spirits of earth, Moses and Elias, "which appeared with him in
+glory, and spake of his death which he should accomplish at Jerusalem."
+It appears that these so long departed ones were still mingling in deep
+sympathy with the tide of human affairs&mdash;not only aware of the present,
+but also informed as to the future. In coincidence with this idea are
+all those passages which speak of the redeemed of earth as being closely
+and indissolubly identified with Christ, members of his body, of his
+flesh and his bones. It is not to be supposed that those united to Jesus
+above all others by so vivid a sympathy and community of interests are
+left out as instruments in that great work of human regeneration which
+so engrosses him; and when we hear Christians spoken of as kings and
+priests unto God, as those who shall judge angels, we see it more than
+intimated that they are to be the partners and actors in that great work
+of spiritual regeneration of which Jesus is the head.</p>
+
+<p>What then? May we look among the band of ministering spirits for our own
+departed ones? Whom would God be more likely to send us? Have we in
+heaven a friend who knew us to the heart's core? a friend to whom we
+have unfolded our soul in its most secret recesses? to whom we have
+confessed our weaknesses and deplored our griefs? If we are to have a
+ministering spirit, who better adapted? Have we not memories which
+correspond to such a belief? When our soul has been cast down, has never
+an invisible voice whispered, "There is lifting up"? Have not gales and
+breezes of sweet and healing thought been wafted over us, as if an angel
+had shaken from his wings the odors of paradise? Many a one, we are
+confident, can remember such things&mdash;and whence come they? Why do the
+children of the pious mother, whose grave has grown green and smooth
+with years, seem often to walk through perils and dangers fearful and
+imminent as the crossing Mohammed's fiery gulf on the edge of a drawn
+sword, yet walk unhurt? Ah! could we see that attendant form, that face
+where the angel conceals not the mother, our question would be answered.</p>
+
+<p>It may be possible that a friend is sometimes taken because the Divine
+One sees that his ministry can act more powerfully from the unseen world
+than amid the infirmities of mortal intercourse. Here the soul,
+distracted and hemmed in by human events and by bodily infirmities,
+often scarce knows itself, and makes no impression on others
+correspondent to its desires. The mother would fain electrify the heart
+of her child; she yearns and burns in vain to make her soul effective on
+its soul, and to inspire it with a spiritual and holy life; but all her
+own weaknesses, faults, and mortal cares cramp and confine her, till
+death breaks all fetters; and then, first truly alive, risen, purified,
+and at rest, she may do calmly, sweetly, and certainly, what, amid the
+tempests and tossings of life, she labored for painfully and fitfully.
+So, also, to generous souls, who burn for the good of man, who deplore
+the shortness of life, and the little that is permitted to any
+individual agency on earth, does this belief open a heavenly field.
+Think not, father or brother, long laboring for man, till thy sun stands
+on the western mountains,&mdash;think not that thy day in this world is over.
+Perhaps, like Jesus, thou hast lived a human life, and gained a human
+experience, to become, under and like him, a savior of thousands; thou
+hast been through the preparation, but thy real work of good, thy full
+power of doing, is yet to begin.</p>
+
+<p>But again: there are some spirits (and those of earth's choicest) to
+whom, so far as enjoyment to themselves or others is concerned, this
+life seems to have been a total failure. A hard hand from the first, and
+all the way through life, seems to have been laid upon them; they seem
+to live only to be chastened and crushed, and we lay them in the grave
+at last in mournful silence. To such, what a vision is opened by this
+belief! This hard discipline has been the school and task-work by which
+their soul has been fitted for their invisible labors in a future life;
+and when they pass the gates of the grave, their course of benevolent
+acting first begins, and they find themselves delighted possessors of
+what through many years they have sighed for&mdash;the power of doing good.
+The year just past, like all other years, has taken from a thousand
+circles the sainted, the just, and the beloved; there are spots in a
+thousand graveyards which have become this year dearer than all the
+living world; but in the loneliness of sorrow how cheering to think that
+our lost ones are not wholly gone from us! They still may move about in
+our homes, shedding around an atmosphere of purity and peace, promptings
+of good, and reproofs of evil. We are compassed about by a cloud of
+witnesses, whose hearts throb in sympathy with every effort and
+struggle, and who thrill with joy at every success. How should this
+thought check and rebuke every worldly feeling and unworthy purpose, and
+enshrine us, in the midst of a forgetful and unspiritual world, with an
+atmosphere of heavenly peace! They have overcome&mdash;have risen&mdash;are
+crowned, glorified; but still they remain to us, our assistants, our
+comforters, and in every hour of darkness their voice speaks to us: "So
+we grieved, so we struggled, so we fainted, so we doubted; but we have
+overcome, we have obtained, we have seen, we have found&mdash;and in our
+victory behold the certainty of thy own."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="MRS_A_AND_MRS_B" id="MRS_A_AND_MRS_B"></a>MRS. A. AND MRS. B.;</h2>
+
+<h3>OR, WHAT SHE THINKS ABOUT IT.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Mrs. A. and Mrs. B. were next-door neighbors and intimate friends&mdash;that
+is to say, they took tea with each other very often, and, in
+confidential strains, discoursed of stockings and pocket handkerchiefs,
+of puddings and carpets, of cookery and domestic economy, through all
+its branches.</p>
+
+<p>"I think, on the whole," said Mrs. A., with an air of profound
+reflection, "that gingerbread is the cheapest and healthiest cake one
+can make. I make a good deal of it, and let my children have as much as
+they want of it."</p>
+
+<p>"I used to do so," said Mrs. B., "but I haven't had any made these two
+months."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! Why not?" said Mrs. A.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, it is some trouble; and then, though it is cheap, it is cheaper
+not to have any; and, on the whole, the children are quite as well
+contented without it, and so we are fallen into the way of not having
+any."</p>
+
+<p>"But one must keep some kind of cake in the house," said Mrs. A.</p>
+
+<p>"So I have always heard, and thought, and practised," said Mrs. B.; "but
+really of late I have questioned the need of it."</p>
+
+<p>The conversation gradually digressed from this point into various
+intricate speculations on domestic economy, and at last each lady went
+home to put her children to bed.</p>
+
+<p>A fortnight after, the two ladies were again in conclave at Mrs. B.'s
+tea table, which was graced by some unusually nice gingerbread.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you had given up making gingerbread," said Mrs. A.; "you told
+me so a fortnight ago at my house."</p>
+
+<p>"So I had," said Mrs. A.; "but since that conversation I have been
+making it again."</p>
+
+<p>"Why so?"</p>
+
+<p>"O, I thought that since you thought it economical enough, certainly I
+might; and that if you thought it necessary to keep some sort of cake in
+the closet, perhaps it was best I should."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. A. laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, now," said she, "I have <i>not</i> made any gingerbread, or cake of
+any kind, since that same conversation."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. I said to myself, If Mrs. B. thinks it will do to go without cake
+in the house, I suppose I might, as she says it <i>is</i> some additional
+expense and trouble; and so I gave it up."</p>
+
+<p>Both ladies laughed, and you laugh, too, my dear lady reader; but have
+you never done the same thing? Have you never altered your dress, or
+your arrangements, or your housekeeping because somebody else was of a
+different way of thinking or managing&mdash;and may not that very somebody at
+the same time have been moved to make some change through a similar
+observation on you?</p>
+
+<p>A large party is to be given by the young lads of N. to the young
+lassies of the same place; they are to drive out together to a picnic in
+the woods, and to come home by moonlight; the weather is damp and
+uncertain, the ground chill, and young people, as in all ages before the
+flood and since, not famous for the grace of prudence; for all which
+reasons, almost every mamma hesitates about her daughters' going&mdash;thinks
+it a very great pity the thing has been started.</p>
+
+<p>"I really don't like this thing," says Mrs. G.; "it's not a kind of
+thing that I approve of, and if Mrs. X. was not going to let her
+daughters go, I should set myself against it. How Mrs. X., who is so
+very nice in her notions, can sanction such a thing, I cannot see. I am
+really surprised at Mrs. X."</p>
+
+<p>All this time, poor unconscious Mrs. X. is in a similar tribulation.</p>
+
+<p>"This is a very disagreeable affair to me," she says. "I really have
+almost a mind to say that my girls shall not go; but Mrs. G.'s daughters
+are going, and Mrs. C.'s, and Mrs. W.'s, and of course it would be idle
+for me to oppose it. I should not like to cast any reflections on a
+course sanctioned by ladies of such prudence and discretion."</p>
+
+<p>In the same manner Mrs. A., B., and C., and the good matrons through the
+alphabet generally, with doleful lamentations, each one consents to the
+thing that she allows not, and the affair proceeds swimmingly to the
+great satisfaction of the juveniles.</p>
+
+<p>Now and then, it is true, some individual sort of body, who might be
+designated by the angular and decided letters K or L, says to her son or
+daughter, "No. I don't approve of the thing," and is deaf to the
+oft-urged, "Mrs. A., B., and C. do so."</p>
+
+<p>"I have nothing to do with Mrs. A., B., and C.'s arrangements," says
+this impracticable Mrs. K. or L. "I only know what is best for my
+children, and they shall not go."</p>
+
+<p>Again: Mrs. G. is going to give a party; and, now, shall she give wine,
+or not? Mrs. G. has heard an abundance of temperance speeches and
+appeals, heard the duties of ladies in the matter of sanctioning
+temperance movements aptly set forth, but "none of these things move her
+half so much as another consideration." She has heard that Mrs. D.
+introduced wine into her last <i>soirée</i>. Mrs. D's husband has been a
+leading orator of the temperance society, and Mrs. D. is no less a
+leading member in the circles of fashion. Now, Mrs. G.'s soul is in
+great perplexity. If she only could be sure that the report about Mrs.
+D. is authentic, why, then, of course the thing is settled; regret it as
+much as she may, she cannot get through her party without the wine; and
+so at last come the party and the wine. Mrs. D., who was incorrectly
+stated to have had the article at her last <i>soirée</i>, has it at her next
+one, and quotes discreet Mrs. G. as her precedent. Mrs. P. is greatly
+scandalized at this, because Mrs. G. is a member of the church, and Mr.
+D. a leading temperance orator; but since <i>they will do it</i>, it is not
+for her to be nice, and so she follows the fashion.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. N. comes home from church on Sunday, rolling up her eyes with
+various appearances of horror and surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Well! I am going to give up trying to restrain my girls from dressing
+extravagantly; it's of no use trying!&mdash;no use in the world."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, mother, what's the matter?" exclaimed the girls aforesaid,
+delighted to hear such encouraging declarations.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, didn't you see Mrs. K.'s daughters sitting in the pew before us
+with <i>feathers</i> in their bonnets? If Mrs. K. is coming out in this way,
+<i>I</i> shall give up. I shan't try any longer. I am going to get just what
+I want, and dress as much as I've a mind to. Girls, you may get those
+visites that you were looking at at Mr. B.'s store last week!"</p>
+
+<p>The next Sunday, Mrs. K.'s girls in turn begin:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"There, mamma, you are always lecturing us about economy, and all that,
+and wanting us to wear our old mantillas another winter, and there are
+Mrs. N.'s girls shining out in new visites."</p>
+
+<p>Mamma looks sensible and judicious, and tells the girls they ought not
+to see what people are wearing in church on Sundays; but it becomes
+evident, before the week is through, that she has not forgotten the
+observation. She is anxiously pricing visites, and looking thoughtful as
+one on the eve of an important determination; and the next Sunday the
+girls appear in full splendor, with new visites, to the increasing
+horror of Mrs. N.</p>
+
+<p>So goes the shuttlecock back and forward, kept up on both sides by most
+judicious hands.</p>
+
+<p>In like manner, at a modern party, a circle of matrons sit in edifying
+conclave, and lament the degeneracy of the age.</p>
+
+<p>"These parties that begin at nine o'clock and end at two or three in the
+morning are shameful things," says fat Mrs. Q., complacently fanning
+herself. (N. B. Mrs. Q. is plotting to have one the very next week, and
+has come just to see the fashions.)</p>
+
+<p>"O, dreadful, dreadful!" exclaim, in one chorus, meek Mrs. M., and tall
+Mrs. F., and stiff Mrs. J.</p>
+
+<p>"They are very unhealthy," says Mrs. F.</p>
+
+<p>"They disturb all family order," says Mrs. J.</p>
+
+<p>"They make one so sleepy the next day," says Mrs. M.</p>
+
+<p>"They are very laborious to get up, and entirely useless," says Mrs. Q.;
+at the same time counting across the room the people that she shall
+invite next week.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. M. and Mrs. F. diverge into a most edifying strain of moral
+reflections on the improvement of time, the necessity of sobriety and
+moderation, the evils of conformity to the world, till one is tempted to
+feel that the tract society ought to have their remarks for general
+circulation, were one not damped by the certain knowledge that before
+the winter is out each of these ladies will give exactly such another
+party.</p>
+
+<p>And, now, are all these respectable ladies hypocritical or insincere? By
+no means&mdash;they believe every word they say; but a sort of necessity is
+laid upon them&mdash;a spell; and before the breath of the multitude their
+individual resolution melts away as the frosty tracery melts from the
+window panes of a crowded room.</p>
+
+<p>A great many do this habitually, resignedly, as a matter of course. Ask
+them what they think to be right and proper, and they will tell you
+sensibly, coherently, and quite to the point in one direction; ask them
+what they are going to do. Ah! that is quite another matter.</p>
+
+<p>They are going to do what is generally done&mdash;what Mrs. A., B., and C.
+do. They have long since made over their conscience to the keeping of
+the public,&mdash;that is to say, of good society,&mdash;and are thus rid of a
+troublesome burden of responsibility.</p>
+
+<p>Again, there are others who mean in general to have an opinion and will
+of their own; but, imperceptibly, as one and another take a course
+opposed to their own sense of right and propriety, their resolution
+quietly melts, and melts, till every individual outline of it is gone,
+and they do as others do.</p>
+
+<p>Yet is this influence of one human being over another&mdash;in some sense,
+God-appointed&mdash;a necessary result of the human constitution. There is
+scarcely a human being that is not varied and swerved by it, as the
+trembling needle is swerved by the approaching magnet. Oppose conflict
+with it, as one may at a distance, yet when it breathes on us through
+the breath, and shines on us through the eye of an associate, it
+possesses an invisible magnetic power. He who is not at all conscious of
+such impressibility can scarce be amiable or human. Nevertheless, one of
+the most important habits for the acquisition of a generous and noble
+character, is to learn to act <i>individually</i>, unswerved by the feelings
+and opinions of others. It may help us to do this, to reflect that the
+very person whose opinion we fear may be in equal dread of ours, and
+that the person to whom we are looking for a precedent may, at that very
+time, be looking to us.</p>
+
+<p>In short, Mrs. A., if you think that you could spend your money more
+like a Christian than in laying it out on a fashionable party, go
+forward and do it, and twenty others, whose supposed opinion you fear,
+will be glad of your example for a precedent. And, Mrs. B., if you do
+think it would be better for your children to observe early hours, and
+form simple habits, than to dress and dance, and give and go to juvenile
+balls, carry out your opinion in practice, and many an anxious mother,
+who is of the same opinion, will quote your example as her shield and
+defence.</p>
+
+<p>And for you, young ladies, let us pray you to reflect&mdash;<i>individuality of
+character</i>, maintained with womanly sweetness, is an irresistible grace
+and adornment. Have some principles of taste for yourself, and do not
+adopt every fashion of dress that is in vogue, whether it suits you or
+not&mdash;whether it is becoming or not&mdash;but, without a startling variation
+from general form, let your dress show something of your own taste and
+opinions. Have some principles of right and wrong for yourself, and do
+not do every thing that every one else does, <i>because</i> every one else
+does it.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing is more tedious than a circle of young ladies who have got by
+rote a certain set of phrases and opinions&mdash;all admiring in the same
+terms the same things, and detesting in like terms certain others&mdash;with
+anxious solicitude each dressing, thinking, and acting, one as much like
+another as is possible. A genuine original opinion, even though it were
+so heretical as to assert that Jenny Lind is a little lower than the
+angels, or that Shakspeare is rather dull reading, would be better than
+such a universal Dead Sea of acquiescence.</p>
+
+<p>These remarks have borne reference to the female sex principally,
+because they are the dependent, the acquiescent sex&mdash;from nature, and
+habit, and position, most exposed to be swayed by opinion&mdash;and yet, too,
+in a certain very wide department they are the lawgivers and
+custom-makers of society. If, amid the multiplied schools, whose
+advertisements now throng our papers, purporting to teach girls every
+thing, both ancient and modern, high and low, from playing on the harp
+and working pincushions, up to civil engineering, surveying, and
+navigation, there were any which could teach them to be women&mdash;to have
+thoughts, opinions, and modes of action of their own&mdash;such a school
+would be worth having. If one half of the good purposes which are in the
+hearts of the ladies of our nation were only acted out without fear of
+any body's opinion, we should certainly be a step nearer the millennium.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHRISTMAS_OR_THE_GOOD_FAIRY" id="CHRISTMAS_OR_THE_GOOD_FAIRY"></a>CHRISTMAS; OR, THE GOOD FAIRY.</h2>
+
+
+<p>"O, dear! Christmas is coming in a fortnight, and I have got to think up
+presents for every body!" said young Ellen Stuart, as she leaned
+languidly back in her chair. "Dear me, it's so tedious! Every body has
+got every thing that can be thought of."</p>
+
+<p>"O, no," said her confidential adviser, Miss Lester, in a soothing tone.
+"You have means of buying every thing you can fancy; and when every shop
+and store is glittering with all manner of splendors, you cannot surely
+be at a loss."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, now, just listen. To begin with, there's mamma. What can I get
+for her? I have thought of ever so many things. She has three card
+cases, four gold thimbles, two or three gold chains, two writing desks
+of different patterns; and then as to rings, brooches, boxes, and all
+other things, I should think she might be sick of the sight of them. I
+am sure I am," said she, languidly gazing on her white and jewelled
+fingers.</p>
+
+<p>This view of the case seemed rather puzzling to the adviser, and there
+was silence for a few moments, when Ellen, yawning, resumed:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"And then there's Cousins Jane and Mary; I suppose they will be coming
+down on me with a whole load of presents; and Mrs. B. will send me
+something&mdash;she did last year; and then there's Cousins William and
+Tom&mdash;I must get them something; and I would like to do it well enough,
+if I only knew what to get."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Eleanor's aunt, who had been sitting quietly rattling her
+knitting needles during this speech, "it's a pity that you had not such
+a subject to practise on as I was when I was a girl. Presents did not
+fly about in those days as they do now. I remember, when I was ten years
+old, my father gave me a most marvellously ugly sugar dog for a
+Christmas gift, and I was perfectly delighted with it, the very idea of
+a present was so new to us."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear aunt, how delighted I should be if I had any such fresh,
+unsophisticated body to get presents for! But to get and get for people
+that have more than they know what to do with now; to add pictures,
+books, and gilding when the centre tables are loaded with them now, and
+rings and jewels when they are a perfect drug! I wish myself that I were
+not sick, and sated, and tired with having every thing in the world
+given me."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Eleanor," said her aunt, "if you really do want unsophisticated
+subjects to practise on, I can put you in the way of it. I can show you
+more than one family to whom you might seem to be a very good fairy, and
+where such gifts as you could give with all ease would seem like a magic
+dream."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, that would really be worth while, aunt."</p>
+
+<p>"Look over in that back alley," said her aunt. "You see those
+buildings?"</p>
+
+<p>"That miserable row of shanties? Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I have several acquaintances there who have never been tired of
+Christmas gifts, or gifts of any other kind. I assure you, you could
+make quite a sensation over there."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, who is there? Let us know."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you remember Owen, that used to make your shoes?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I remember something about him."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, he has fallen into a consumption, and cannot work any more; and
+he, and his wife, and three little children live in one of the rooms."</p>
+
+<p>"How do they get along?"</p>
+
+<p>"His wife takes in sewing sometimes, and sometimes goes out washing.
+Poor Owen! I was over there yesterday; he looks thin and wasted, and his
+wife was saying that he was parched with constant fever, and had very
+little appetite. She had, with great self-denial, and by restricting
+herself almost of necessary food, got him two or three oranges; and the
+poor fellow seemed so eager after them!"</p>
+
+<p>"Poor fellow!" said Eleanor, involuntarily.</p>
+
+<p>"Now," said her aunt, "suppose Owen's wife should get up on Christmas
+morning and find at the door a couple of dozen of oranges, and some of
+those nice white grapes, such as you had at your party last week; don't
+you think it would make a sensation?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, yes, I think very likely it might; but who else, aunt? You spoke
+of a great many."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, on the lower floor there is a neat little room, that is always
+kept perfectly trim and tidy; it belongs to a young couple who have
+nothing beyond the husband's day wages to live on. They are,
+nevertheless, as cheerful and chipper as a couple of wrens; and she is
+up and down half a dozen times a day, to help poor Mrs. Owen. She has a
+baby of her own, about five months old, and of course does all the
+cooking, washing, and ironing for herself and husband; and yet, when
+Mrs. Owen goes out to wash, she takes her baby, and keeps it whole days
+for her."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure she deserves that the good fairies should smile on her," said
+Eleanor; "one baby exhausts my stock of virtues very rapidly."</p>
+
+<p>"But you ought to see her baby," said Aunt E.; "so plump, so rosy, and
+good-natured, and always clean as a lily. This baby is a sort of
+household shrine; nothing is too sacred or too good for it; and I
+believe the little thrifty woman feels only one temptation to be
+extravagant, and that is to get some ornaments to adorn this little
+divinity."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, did she ever tell you so?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; but one day, when I was coming down stairs, the door of their room
+was partly open, and I saw a pedler there with open box. John, the
+husband, was standing with a little purple cap on his hand, which he was
+regarding with mystified, admiring air, as if he didn't quite comprehend
+it, and trim little Mary gazing at it with longing eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"'I think we might get it,' said John.</p>
+
+<p>"'O, no,' said she, regretfully; 'yet I wish we could, it's <i>so
+pretty</i>!'"</p>
+
+<p>"Say no more, aunt. I see the good fairy must pop a cap into the window
+on Christmas morning. Indeed, it shall be done. How they will wonder
+where it came from, and talk about it for months to come!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then," continued her aunt, "in the next street to ours there is a
+miserable building, that looks as if it were just going to topple over;
+and away up in the third story, in a little room just under the eaves,
+live two poor, lonely old women. They are both nearly on to ninety. I
+was in there day before yesterday. One of them is constantly confined to
+her bed with rheumatism; the other, weak and feeble, with failing sight
+and trembling hands, totters about, her only helper; and they are
+entirely dependent on charity."</p>
+
+<p>"Can't they do any thing? Can't they knit?" said Eleanor.</p>
+
+<p>"You are young and strong, Eleanor, and have quick eyes and nimble
+fingers; how long would it take you to knit a pair of stockings?"</p>
+
+<p>"I?" said Eleanor. "What an idea! I never tried, but I think I could get
+a pair done in a week, perhaps."</p>
+
+<p>"And if somebody gave you twenty-five cents for them, and out of this
+you had to get food, and pay room rent, and buy coal for your fire, and
+oil for your lamp&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Stop, aunt, for pity's sake!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I will stop; but they can't: they must pay so much every month
+for that miserable shell they live in, or be turned into the street. The
+meal and flour that some kind person sends goes off for them just as it
+does for others, and they must get more or starve; and coal is now
+scarce and high priced."</p>
+
+<p>"O aunt, I'm quite convinced, I'm sure; don't run me down and annihilate
+me with all these terrible realities. What shall I do to play good fairy
+to these poor old women?"</p>
+
+<p>"If you will give me full power, Eleanor, I will put up a basket to be
+sent to them that will give them something to remember all winter."</p>
+
+<p>"O, certainly I will. Let me see if I can't think of something myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Eleanor, suppose, then, some fifty or sixty years hence, <i>if</i> you
+were old, and your father, and mother, and aunts, and uncles, now so
+thick around you, lay cold and silent in so many graves&mdash;you have
+somehow got away off to a strange city, where you were never known&mdash;you
+live in a miserable garret, where snow blows at night through the
+cracks, and the fire is very apt to go out in the old cracked stove&mdash;you
+sit crouching over the dying embers the evening before Christmas&mdash;nobody
+to speak to you, nobody to care for you, except another poor old soul
+who lies moaning in the bed. Now, what would you like to have sent you?"</p>
+
+<p>"O aunt, what a dismal picture!"</p>
+
+<p>"And yet, Ella, all poor, forsaken old women are made of young girls,
+who expected it in their youth as little as you do, perhaps."</p>
+
+<p>"Say no more, aunt. I'll buy&mdash;let me see&mdash;a comfortable warm shawl for
+each of these poor women; and I'll send them&mdash;let me see&mdash;O, some
+tea&mdash;nothing goes down with old women like tea; and I'll make John wheel
+some coal over to them; and, aunt, it would not be a very bad thought to
+send them a new stove. I remember, the other day, when mamma was pricing
+stoves, I saw some such nice ones for two or three dollars."</p>
+
+<p>"For a new hand, Ella, you work up the idea very well," said her aunt.</p>
+
+<p>"But how much ought I to give, for any one case, to these women, say?"</p>
+
+<p>"How much did you give last year for any single Christmas present?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, six or seven dollars for some; those elegant souvenirs were seven
+dollars; that ring I gave Mrs. B. was twenty."</p>
+
+<p>"And do you suppose Mrs. B. was any happier for it?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, really, I don't think she cared much about it; but I had to give
+her something, because she had sent me something the year before, and I
+did not want to send a paltry present to one in her circumstances."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, Ella, give the same to any poor, distressed, suffering creature
+who really needs it, and see in how many forms of good such a sum will
+appear. That one hard, cold, glittering ring, that now cheers nobody,
+and means nothing, that you give because you must, and she takes because
+she must, might, if broken up into smaller sums, send real warm and
+heartfelt gladness through many a cold and cheerless dwelling, through
+many an aching heart."</p>
+
+<p>"You are getting to be an orator, aunt; but don't you approve of
+Christmas presents, among friends and equals?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed," said her aunt, fondly stroking her head. "I have had some
+Christmas presents that did me a world of good&mdash;a little book mark, for
+instance, that a certain niece of mine worked for me, with wonderful
+secrecy, three years ago, when she was not a young lady with a purse
+full of money&mdash;that book mark was a true Christmas present; and my young
+couple across the way are plotting a profound surprise to each other on
+Christmas morning. John has contrived, by an hour of extra work every
+night, to lay by enough to get Mary a new calico dress; and she, poor
+soul, has bargained away the only thing in the jewelry line she ever
+possessed, to be laid out on a new hat for him.</p>
+
+<p>"I know, too, a washerwoman who has a poor, lame boy&mdash;a patient, gentle
+little fellow&mdash;who has lain quietly for weeks and months in his little
+crib, and his mother is going to give him a splendid Christmas present."</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, pray?"</p>
+
+<p>"A whole orange! Don't laugh. She will pay ten whole cents for it; for
+it shall be none of your common oranges, but a picked one of the very
+best going! She has put by the money, a cent at a time, for a whole
+month; and nobody knows which will be happiest in it, Willie or his
+mother. These are such Christmas presents as I like to think of&mdash;gifts
+coming from love, and tending to produce love; these are the appropriate
+gifts of the day."</p>
+
+<p>"But don't you think that it's right for those who <i>have</i> money to give
+expensive presents, supposing always, as you say, they are given from
+real affection?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sometimes, undoubtedly. The Savior did not condemn her who broke an
+alabaster box of ointment&mdash;<i>very precious</i>&mdash;simply as a proof of love,
+even although the suggestion was made, 'This might have been sold for
+three hundred pence, and given to the poor.' I have thought he would
+regard with sympathy the fond efforts which human love sometimes makes
+to express itself by gifts, the rarest and most costly. How I rejoiced
+with all my heart, when Charles Elton gave his poor mother that splendid
+Chinese shawl and gold watch! because I knew they came from the very
+fulness of his heart to a mother that he could not do too much for&mdash;a
+mother that has done and suffered every thing for him. In some such
+cases, when resources are ample, a costly gift seems to have a graceful
+appropriateness; but I cannot approve of it if it exhausts all the means
+of doing for the poor; it is better, then, to give a simple offering,
+and to do something for those who really need it."</p>
+
+<p>Eleanor looked thoughtful; her aunt laid down her knitting, and said, in
+a tone of gentle seriousness, "Whose birth does Christmas commemorate,
+Ella?"</p>
+
+<p>"Our Savior's, certainly, aunt."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said her aunt. "And when and how was he born? In a stable! laid
+in a manger; thus born, that in all ages he might be known as the
+brother and friend of the poor. And surely, it seems but appropriate to
+commemorate his birthday by an especial remembrance of the lowly, the
+poor, the outcast, and distressed; and if Christ should come back to our
+city on a Christmas day, where should we think it most appropriate to
+his character to find him? Would he be carrying splendid gifts to
+splendid dwellings, or would he be gliding about in the cheerless haunts
+of the desolate, the poor, the forsaken, and the sorrowful?"</p>
+
+<p>And here the conversation ended.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>"What sort of Christmas presents is Ella buying?" said Cousin Tom, as
+the waiter handed in a portentous-looking package, which had been just
+rung in at the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's open it," said saucy Will. "Upon my word, two great gray blanket
+shawls! These must be for you and me, Tom! And what's this? A great bolt
+of cotton flannel and gray yarn stockings!"</p>
+
+<p>The door bell rang again, and the waiter brought in another bulky
+parcel, and deposited it on the marble-topped centre table.</p>
+
+<p>"What's here?" said Will, cutting the cord. "Whew! a perfect nest of
+packages! oolong tea! oranges! grapes! white sugar! Bless me, Ella must
+be going to housekeeping!"</p>
+
+<p>"Or going crazy!" said Tom; "and on my word," said he, looking out of
+the window, "there's a drayman ringing at our door, with a stove, with a
+teakettle set in the top of it!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ella's cook stove, of course," said Will; and just at this moment the
+young lady entered, with her purse hanging gracefully over her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, boys, you are too bad!" she exclaimed, as each of the mischievous
+youngsters were gravely marching up and down, attired in a gray shawl.</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't you get them for us? We thought you did," said both.</p>
+
+<p>"Ella, I want some of that cotton flannel, to make me a pair of
+pantaloons," said Tom.</p>
+
+<p>"I say, Ella," said Will, "when are you going to housekeeping? Your
+cooking stove is standing down in the street; 'pon my word, John is
+loading some coal on the dray with it."</p>
+
+<p>"Ella, isn't that going to be sent to my office?" said Tom; "do you know
+I do so languish for a new stove with a teakettle in the top, to heat a
+fellow's shaving water!"</p>
+
+<p>Just then, another ring at the door, and the grinning waiter handed in a
+small brown paper parcel for Miss Ella. Tom made a dive at it, and
+staving off the brown paper, developed a jaunty little purple velvet
+cap, with silver tassels.</p>
+
+<p>"My smoking cap, as I live!" said he; "only I shall have to wear it on
+my thumb, instead of my head&mdash;too small entirely," said he, shaking his
+head gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, you saucy boys," said Aunt E., entering briskly, "what are you
+teasing Ella for?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, do see this lot of things, aunt! What in the world is Ella going
+to do with them?"</p>
+
+<p>"O, I know!"</p>
+
+<p>"You know! Then I can guess, aunt, it is some of your charitable works.
+You are going to make a juvenile Lady Bountiful of El, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>Ella, who had colored to the roots of her hair at the <i>exposé</i> of her
+very unfashionable Christmas preparations, now took heart, and bestowed
+a very gentle and salutary little cuff on the saucy head that still wore
+the purple cap, and then hastened to gather up her various purchases.</p>
+
+<p>"Laugh away," said she, gayly; "and a good many others will laugh, too,
+over these things. I got them to make people laugh&mdash;people that are not
+in the habit of laughing!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well, I see into it," said Will; "and I tell you I think right
+well of the idea, too. There are worlds of money wasted, at this time of
+the year, in getting things that nobody wants, and nobody cares for
+after they are got; and I am glad, for my part, that you are going to
+get up a variety in this line; in fact, I should like to give you one of
+these stray leaves to help on," said he, dropping a ten dollar note into
+her paper. "I like to encourage girls to think of something besides
+breastpins and sugar candy."</p>
+
+<p>But our story spins on too long. If any body wants to see the results of
+Ella's first attempts at <i>good fairyism</i>, they can call at the doors of
+two or three old buildings on Christmas morning, and they shall hear all
+about it.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="EARTHLY_CARE_A_HEAVENLY_DISCIPLINE" id="EARTHLY_CARE_A_HEAVENLY_DISCIPLINE"></a>EARTHLY CARE A HEAVENLY DISCIPLINE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Why should these cares my heart divide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">If Thou, indeed, hast set me free?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why am I thus, if Thou hast died&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">If Thou hast died to ransom me?"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Nothing is more frequently felt and spoken of, as a hinderance to the
+inward life of devotion, than the "cares of life;" and even upon the
+showing of our Lord himself, the cares of the world are the <i>thorns</i>
+that choke the word, and it becometh unfruitful.</p>
+
+<p>And yet, if this is a necessary and inevitable result of worldly care,
+why does the providence of God so order things that it forms so large
+and unavoidable a part of every human experience? Why is the physical
+system of man arranged with such daily, oft-recurring wants? Why does
+his nature, in its full development, tend to that state of society in
+which wants multiply, and the business of supply becomes more
+complicated, and requiring constantly more thought and attention, and
+bringing the outward and seen into a state of constant friction and
+pressure on the inner and spiritual?</p>
+
+<p>Has God arranged an outward system to be a constant diversion from the
+inward&mdash;a weight on its wheels&mdash;a burden on its wings&mdash;and then
+commanded a strict and rigid inwardness and spirituality? Why placed us
+where the things that are seen and temporal must unavoidably have so
+much of our thoughts, and time, and care, yet said to us, "Set your
+affections on things above, and not on things on the earth. Love not the
+world, neither the things of the world"? And why does one of our
+brightest examples of Christian experience, as it should be, say, "While
+we look not on the things which are seen, but on the things which are
+not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things
+that are not seen are eternal"?</p>
+
+<p>The Bible tells us that our whole existence here is a disciplinary one;
+that this whole physical system, by which our spirit is enclosed with
+all the joys and sorrows, hopes and fears, and wants which form a part
+of it, are designed as an education to fit the soul for its immortality;
+and as worldly care forms the greater part of the staple of every human
+life, there must be some mode of viewing and meeting it, which converts
+it from an enemy of spirituality into a means of grace and spiritual
+advancement.</p>
+
+<p>Why, then, do we so often hear the lamentation, "It seems to me as if I
+could advance to the higher stages of Christian life, if it were not for
+the pressure of my business and the multitude of my worldly cares"? Is
+it not God, O Christian, who, in ordering thy lot, has laid these cares
+upon thee, and who still holds them about thee, and permits no escape
+from them? And as his great, undivided object is thy spiritual
+improvement, is there not some misapprehension or wrong use of these
+cares, if they do not tend to advance it? Is it not even as if a scholar
+should say, I could advance in science were it not for all the time and
+care which lessons, and books, and lectures require?</p>
+
+<p>How, then, shall earthly care become heavenly discipline? How shall the
+disposition of the weight be altered so as to press the spirit upward
+towards God, instead of downward and away? How shall the pillar of cloud
+which rises between us and him become one of fire, to reflect upon us
+constantly the light of his countenance, and to guide us over the sands
+of life's desert?</p>
+
+<p>It appears to us that the great radical difficulty is an intellectual
+one, and lies in a wrong belief. There is not a genuine and real belief
+of the presence and agency of God in the minor events and details of
+life, which is necessary to change them from secular cares into
+spiritual blessings.</p>
+
+<p>It is true there is much loose talk about an overruling Providence; and
+yet, if fairly stated, the belief of a great many Christians might be
+thus expressed: God has organized and set in operation certain general
+laws of matter and mind, which work out the particular results of life,
+and over these laws he exercises a general supervision and care, so that
+all the great affairs of the world are carried on after the counsel of
+his own will; and in a certain general sense, all things are working
+together for good to those that love God. But when some simple-minded,
+childlike Christian really proceeds to refer all the smaller events of
+life to God's immediate care and agency, there is a smile of
+incredulity, and it is thought that the good brother displays more
+Christian feeling than sound philosophy.</p>
+
+<p>But as life for every individual is made up of fractions and minute
+atoms&mdash;as those things which go to affect habits and character are small
+and hourly recurring, it comes to pass that a belief in Providence so
+very wide and general, is altogether inefficient for consecrating and
+rendering sacred the great body of what comes in contact with the mind
+in the experience of life. Only once in years does the Christian with
+this kind of belief hear the voice of the Lord God speaking to him. When
+the hand of death is laid on his child, or the bolt strikes down the
+brother by his side, <i>then</i>, indeed, he feels that God is drawing near;
+he listens humbly for the inward voice that shall explain the meaning
+and need of this discipline. When by some unforeseen occurrence the
+whole of his earthly property is swept away,&mdash;he becomes a poor
+man,&mdash;this event, in his eyes, assumes sufficient magnitude to have come
+from God, and to have a design and meaning; but when smaller comforts
+are removed, smaller losses are encountered, and the petty, every-day
+vexations and annoyances of life press about him, he recognizes no God,
+and hears no voice, and sees no design. Hence John Newton says, "Many
+Christians, who bear the loss of a child, or the destruction of all
+their property, with the most heroic Christian fortitude, are entirely
+vanquished and overcome by the breaking of a dish, or the blunders of a
+servant, and show so unchristian a spirit, that we cannot but wonder at
+them."</p>
+
+<p>So when the breath of slander, or the pressure of human injustice, comes
+so heavily on a man as really to threaten loss of character, and
+destruction of his temporal interests, he seems forced to recognize the
+hand and voice of God, through the veil of human agencies, and in
+time-honored words to say,&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"When men of spite against me join,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They are the <i>sword</i>; the hand is thine."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>But the smaller injustice and fault-finding which meet every one more or
+less in the daily intercourse of life, the overheard remark, the implied
+censure, too petty, perhaps, to be even spoken of, these daily recurring
+sources of disquietude and unhappiness are not referred to God's
+providence, nor considered as a part of his probation and discipline.
+Those thousand vexations which come upon us through the
+unreasonableness, the carelessness, the various constitutional failings,
+or ill-adaptedness of others to our peculiarities of character, form a
+very large item of the disquietudes of life; and yet how very few look
+beyond the human agent, and feel these are trials coming from God! Yet
+it is true, in many cases, that these so called minor vexations form the
+greater part, and in many cases the only discipline of <i>life</i>; and to
+those that do not view them as ordered individually by God, and coming
+upon them by specified design, "their affliction 'really' cometh of the
+dust, and their trouble springs out of the ground;" it is sanctified and
+relieved by no divine presence and aid, but borne alone and in a mere
+human spirit, and by mere human reliances, it acts on the mind as a
+constant diversion and hinderance, instead of a moral discipline.</p>
+
+<p>Hence, too, come a coldness, and generality, and wandering of mind in
+prayer: the things that are on the heart, that are distracting the mind,
+that have filled the soul so full that there is no room for any thing
+else, are all considered too small and undignified to come within the
+pale of a prayer, and so, with a wandering mind and a distracted heart,
+the Christian offers up his prayer for things which he thinks he <i>ought</i>
+to want, and makes no mention of those which he <i>does</i>. He prays that
+God would pour out his spirit on the heathen, and convert the world, and
+build up his kingdom every where, when perhaps a whole set of little
+anxieties, and wants, and vexations are so distracting his thoughts,
+that he hardly knows what he has been saying: a faithless servant is
+wasting his property; a careless or blundering workman has spoiled a lot
+of goods; a child is vexatious or unruly; a friend has made promises and
+failed to keep them; an acquaintance has made unjust or satirical
+remarks; some new furniture has been damaged or ruined by carelessness
+in the household; but all this trouble forms no subject matter for
+prayer, though there it is, all the while lying like lead on the heart,
+and keeping it down, so that it has no power to expand and take in any
+thing else. But were God known and regarded as the soul's familiar
+friend, were every trouble of the heart as it rises, breathed into his
+bosom; were it felt that there is not one of the smallest of life's
+troubles that has not been permitted by him, and permitted for specific
+good purpose to the soul, how much more would these be in prayer! how
+constant, how daily might it become! how it might settle and clear the
+atmosphere of the soul! how it might so dispose and lay away many
+anxieties which now take up their place there, that there might be
+<i>room</i> for the higher themes and considerations of religion!</p>
+
+<p>Many sensitive and fastidious natures are worn away by the constant
+friction of what are called <i>little troubles</i>. Without any great
+affliction, they feel that all the flower and sweetness of their life
+have faded; their eye grows dim, their cheek care-worn, and their spirit
+loses hope and elasticity, and becomes bowed with premature age; and in
+the midst of tangible and physical comfort, they are restless and
+unhappy. The constant under-current of little cares and vexations, which
+is slowly wearing on the finer springs of life, is seen by no one;
+scarce ever do they speak of these things to their nearest friends. Yet
+were there a friend of a spirit so discerning as to feel and sympathize
+in all these things, how much of this repressed electric restlessness
+would pass off through such a sympathizing mind.</p>
+
+<p>Yet among human friends this is all but impossible, for minds are so
+diverse that what is a trial and a care to one is a matter of sport and
+amusement to another; and all the inner world breathed into a human ear
+only excites a surprised or contemptuous pity. Whom, then, shall the
+soul turn to? Who will feel <i>that</i> to be affliction which each spirit
+feels to be so? If the soul shut itself within itself, it becomes
+morbid; the fine chords of the mind and nerves by constant wear become
+jarring and discordant; hence fretfulness, discontent, and habitual
+irritability steal over the sincere Christian.</p>
+
+<p>But to the Christian that really believes in the agency of God in the
+smallest events of life, that confides in his love, and makes his
+sympathy his refuge, the thousand minute cares and perplexities of life
+become each one a fine affiliating bond between the soul and its God.
+God is known, not by abstract definition, and by high-raised conceptions
+of the soul's aspiring hours, but known as a man knoweth his friend; he
+is known by the hourly wants he supplies; known by every care with which
+he momentarily sympathizes, every apprehension which he relieves, every
+temptation which he enables us to surmount. We learn to know God as the
+infant child learns to know its mother and its father, by all the
+helplessness and all the dependence which are incident to this
+commencement of our moral existence; and as we go on thus year by year,
+and find in every changing situation, in every reverse, in every
+trouble, from the lightest sorrow to those which wring our soul from its
+depths, that he is equally present, and that his gracious aid is equally
+adequate, our faith seems gradually almost to change to sight; and God's
+existence, his love and care, seem to us more real than any other source
+of reliance, and multiplied cares and trials are only new avenues of
+acquaintance between us and heaven.</p>
+
+<p>Suppose, in some bright vision unfolding to our view, in tranquil
+evening or solemn midnight, the glorified form of some departed friend
+should appear to us with the announcement, "This year is to be to you
+one of especial probation and discipline, with reference to perfecting
+you for a heavenly state. Weigh well and consider every incident of your
+daily life, for not one shall fall out by accident, but each one is to
+be a finished and indispensable link in a bright chain that is to draw
+you upward to the skies!"</p>
+
+<p>With what new eyes should we now look on our daily lot! and if we found
+in it not a single change,&mdash;the same old cares, the same perplexities,
+the same uninteresting drudgeries still,&mdash;with what new meaning would
+every incident be invested! and with what other and sublimer spirit
+could we meet them? Yet, if announced by one rising from the dead with
+the visible glory of a spiritual world, this truth could be asserted no
+more clearly and distinctly than Jesus Christ has stated it already. Not
+a sparrow falleth to the ground without our Father. Not one of them is
+forgotten by him; and we are of more value than many sparrows; yea, even
+the hairs of our head are all numbered. Not till belief in these
+declarations, in their most literal sense, becomes the calm and settled
+habit of the soul, is life ever redeemed from drudgery and dreary
+emptiness, and made full of interest, meaning, and divine significance.
+Not till then do its grovelling wants, its wearing cares, its stinging
+vexations, become to us ministering spirits, each one, by a silent but
+certain agency, fitting us for a higher and perfect sphere.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CONVERSATION_ON_CONVERSATION" id="CONVERSATION_ON_CONVERSATION"></a>CONVERSATION ON CONVERSATION.</h2>
+
+
+<blockquote><p>"For every idle word that men shall speak, they shall give account
+thereof in the day of judgment."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>"A very solemn sermon," said Miss B., shaking her head impressively, as
+she sat down to table on Sunday noon; then giving a deep sigh, she
+added, "I am afraid that if an account is to be rendered for all our
+idle words, some people will have a great deal to answer for."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Cousin Anna," replied a sprightly young lady opposite, "what do
+you mean by <i>idle words</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"All words that have not a strictly useful tendency, Helen," replied
+Miss B.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know what is to become of me, then," answered Helen, "for I
+never can think of any thing useful to say. I sit and try sometimes, but
+it always stops my talking. I don't think any thing in the world is so
+doleful as a set of persons sitting round, all trying to say something
+useful, like a parcel of old clocks ticking at each other. I think one
+might as well take the vow of entire silence, like the monks of La
+Trappe."</p>
+
+<p>"It is probable," said Miss B., "that a greater part of our ordinary
+conversation had better be dispensed with. 'In the multitude of words
+there wanteth not sin.' For my own part, my conscience often reproaches
+me with the sins of my tongue."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure you don't sin much that way, I must say," said Helen; "but,
+cousin, I really think it is a freezing business sitting still and
+reflecting all the time when friends are together; and after all I can't
+bring myself to feel as if it were wrong to talk and chatter away a good
+part of the time, just for the sake of talking. For instance, if a
+friend comes in of a morning to make a call, I talk about the weather,
+my roses, my Canary birds, or any thing that comes uppermost."</p>
+
+<p>"And about lace, and bonnet patterns, and the last fashions," added Miss
+B., sarcastically.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, supposing we do; where's the harm?"</p>
+
+<p>"Where's the good?" said Miss B.</p>
+
+<p>"The good! why, it passes time agreeably, and makes us feel kindly
+towards each other."</p>
+
+<p>"I think, Helen," said Miss B., "if you had a higher view of Christian
+responsibility, you would not be satisfied with merely passing time
+agreeably, or exciting agreeable feelings in others. Does not the very
+text we are speaking of show that we have an account to give in the day
+of judgment for all this trifling, useless conversation?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know what that text does mean," replied Helen, looking
+seriously; "but if it means as you say, I think it is a very hard,
+strait rule."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," replied Miss B., "is not duty always hard and strait? 'Strait is
+the gate, and narrow is the way,' you know."</p>
+
+<p>Helen sighed.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you think of this, Uncle C.?" she said, after some pause. The
+uncle of the two young ladies had been listening thus far in silence.</p>
+
+<p>"I think," he replied, "that before people begin to discuss, they should
+be quite sure as to what they are talking about; and I am not exactly
+clear in this case. You say, Anna," said he, turning to Miss B., "that
+all conversation is idle which has not a directly useful tendency. Now,
+what do you mean by that? Are we never to say any thing that has not for
+its direct and specific object to benefit others or ourselves?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," replied Miss B., "I suppose not."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, when I say, 'Good morning, sir; 'tis a pleasant day,' I
+have no such object. Are these, then, idle words?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, no, not exactly," replied Miss B.; "in some cases it is necessary
+to say something, so as not to appear rude."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," replied her uncle. "You admit, then, that some things,
+which are not instructive in themselves considered, are to be said to
+keep up the intercourse of society."</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly; some things," said Miss B.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, now, in the case mentioned by Helen, when two or three people
+with whom you are in different degrees of intimacy call upon you, I
+think she is perfectly right, as she said, in talking of roses, and
+Canary birds, and even of bonnet patterns, and lace, or any thing of the
+kind, for the sake of making conversation. It amounts to the same thing
+as 'good morning,' and 'good evening,' and the other courtesies of
+society. This sort of small talk has nothing instructive in it, and yet
+it may be <i>useful</i> in its place. It makes people comfortable and easy,
+promotes kind and social feelings; and making people comfortable by any
+innocent means is certainly not a thing to be despised."</p>
+
+<p>"But is there not great danger of becoming light and trifling if one
+allows this?" said Miss B., doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"To be sure; there is always danger of running every innocent thing to
+excess. One might eat to excess, or drink to excess; yet eating and
+drinking are both useful in their way. Now, our lively young friend
+Helen, here, might perhaps be in some temptation of this sort; but as
+for you, Anna, I think you in more danger of another extreme."</p>
+
+<p>"And what is that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of overstraining your mind by endeavoring to keep up a constant, fixed
+state of seriousness and solemnity, and not allowing yourself the
+relaxation necessary to preserve its healthy tone. In order to be
+healthy, every mind must have variety and amusement; and if you would
+sit down at least one hour a day, and join your friends in some amusing
+conversation, and indulge in a good laugh, I think, my dear, that you
+would not only be a happier person, but a better Christian."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear uncle," said Miss B., "this is the very thing that I have been
+most on my guard against; I can never tell stories, or laugh and joke,
+without feeling condemned for it afterwards."</p>
+
+<p>"But, my dear, you must do the thing in the testimony of a good
+conscience before you can do it to any purpose. You must make up your
+mind that cheerful and entertaining conversation&mdash;conversation whose
+first object is to amuse&mdash;is <i>useful conversation</i> in its place, and
+then your conscience will not be injured by joining in it."</p>
+
+<p>"But what good does it do, uncle?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you not often complain of coldness and deadness in your religious
+feelings? of lifelessness and want of interest?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, uncle."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, this coldness and lifelessness is the result of forcing your mind
+to one set of thoughts and feelings. You become worn out&mdash;your feelings
+exhausted&mdash;deadness and depression ensues. Now, turn your mind off from
+these subjects&mdash;divert it by a cheerful and animated conversation, and
+you will find, after a while, that it will return to them with new life
+and energy."</p>
+
+<p>"But are not foolish talking and jesting expressly forbidden?"</p>
+
+<p>"That text, if you will look at the connections, does not forbid jesting
+in the abstract; but jesting on immodest subjects&mdash;which are often
+designated in the New Testament by the phraseology there employed. I
+should give the sense of it&mdash;neither filthiness, nor foolish talking,
+nor indelicate jests. The kind of sprightly and amusing conversation to
+which I referred, I should not denominate foolish, by any means, at
+proper times and places."</p>
+
+<p>"Yet people often speak of gayety as inconsistent in Christians&mdash;even
+worldly people," said Miss B.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, because, in the first place, they often have wrong ideas as to
+what Christianity requires in this respect, and suppose Christians to be
+violating their own principles in indulging in it. In the second place,
+there are some, especially among young people, who never talk in any
+other way&mdash;with whom this kind of conversation is not an amusement, but
+a habit&mdash;giving the impression that they never think seriously at all.
+But I think, that if persons are really possessed by the tender,
+affectionate, benevolent spirit of Christianity&mdash;if they regulate their
+temper and their tongue by it, and in all their actions show an evident
+effort to conform to its precepts, they will not do harm by occasionally
+indulging in sprightly and amusing conversation&mdash;they will not make the
+impression that they are not sincerely Christians."</p>
+
+<p>"Besides," said Helen, "are not people sometimes repelled from religion
+by a want of cheerfulness in its professors?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly," replied her uncle, "and the difference is just this: if a
+person is habitually trifling and thoughtless, it is thought that they
+have <i>no</i> religion; if they are ascetic and gloomy, it is attributed
+<i>to</i> their religion; and you know what Miss E. Smith says&mdash;that 'to be
+good and disagreeable is high treason against virtue.' The more
+sincerely and earnestly religious a person is, the more important it is
+that they should be agreeable."</p>
+
+<p>"But, uncle," said Helen, "what does that text mean that we began with?
+What are idle words?"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear, if you will turn to the place where the passage is (Matt.
+xii.) and read the whole page, you will see the meaning of it. Christ
+was not reproving any body for trifling conversation at the time; but
+for a very serious slander. The Pharisees, in their bitterness, accused
+him of being in league with evil spirits. It seems, by what follows,
+that this was a charge which involved an unpardonable sin. They were
+not, indeed, conscious of its full guilt&mdash;they said it merely from the
+impulse of excited and envious feeling&mdash;but he warns them that in the
+day of judgment, God will hold them accountable for the full
+consequences of all such language, however little they may have thought
+of it at the time of uttering it. The sense of the passage I take to be,
+'God will hold you responsible in the day of judgment for the
+consequences of all you have said in your most idle and thoughtless
+moments.'"</p>
+
+<p>"For example," said Helen, "if one makes unguarded and unfounded
+assertions about the Bible, which excite doubt and prejudice."</p>
+
+<p>"There are many instances," said her uncle, "that are quite in point.
+Suppose in conversation, either under the influence of envy or ill will,
+or merely from love of talking, you make remarks and statements about
+another person which may be true or may not,&mdash;you do not stop to
+inquire,&mdash;your unguarded words set reports in motion, and unhappiness,
+and hard feeling, and loss of character are the result. You spoke idly,
+it is true, but nevertheless you are held responsible by God for all the
+consequences of your words. So professors of religion often make
+unguarded remarks about each other, which lead observers to doubt the
+truth of all religion; and they are responsible for every such doubt
+they excite. Parents and guardians often allow themselves to speak of
+the faults and weaknesses of their ministers in the presence of children
+and younger people&mdash;they do it thoughtlessly&mdash;but in so doing they
+destroy an influence which might otherwise have saved the souls of their
+children; they are responsible for it. People of cultivated minds and
+fastidious taste often allow themselves to come home from church, and
+criticize a sermon, and unfold all its weak points in the presence of
+others on whom it may have made a very serious impression. While the
+critic is holding up the bad arrangement, and setting in a ludicrous
+point of view the lame figures, perhaps the servant behind his chair,
+who was almost persuaded to be a Christian by that very discourse, gives
+up his purposes, in losing his respect for the sermon; this was
+thoughtless&mdash;but the evil is done, and the man who did it is responsible
+for it."</p>
+
+<p>"I think," said Helen, "that a great deal of evil is done to children in
+this way, by our not thinking of what we are saying."</p>
+
+<p>"It seems to me," said Miss B., "that this view of the subject will
+reduce us to silence almost as much as the other. How is one ever to
+estimate the consequences of their words, people are affected in so many
+different ways by the same thing?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose," said her uncle, "we are only responsible for such results
+as by carefulness and reflection we might have foreseen. It is not for
+<i>ill-judged</i> words, but for idle words, that we are to be judged&mdash;words
+uttered without any consideration at all, and producing bad results. If
+a person really anxious to do right misjudges as to the probable effect
+of what he is about to say on others, it is quite another thing."</p>
+
+<p>"But, uncle, will not such carefulness destroy all freedom in
+conversation?" said Helen.</p>
+
+<p>"If you are talking with a beloved friend, Helen, do you not use an
+<i>instinctive</i> care to avoid all that might pain that friend?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly."</p>
+
+<p>"And do you find this effort a restraint on your enjoyment?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not."</p>
+
+<p>"And you, from your own feelings, avoid what is indelicate and impure in
+conversation, and yet feel it no restraint?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I suppose the object of Christian effort should be so to realize
+the character of our Savior, and conform our tastes and sympathies to
+his, that we shall <i>instinctively</i> avoid all in our conversation that
+would be displeasing to him. A person habitually indulging jealous,
+angry, or revengeful feeling&mdash;a person habitually worldly in his
+spirit&mdash;a person allowing himself in sceptical and unsettled habits of
+thought, <i>cannot</i> talk without doing harm. This is our Savior's account
+of the matter in the verses immediately before the passage we were
+speaking of&mdash;'How <i>can</i> ye, being evil, speak good things? for out of
+the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh. A good man out of the
+good treasure of his heart bringeth forth good things, and an evil man
+out of the evil treasure of his heart bringeth forth evil things.' The
+highest flow of animal spirits would never hurry a pure-minded person to
+say any thing indelicate or gross; and in the same manner, if a person
+is habitually Christian in all his habits of thought and feeling, he
+will be able without irksome watchfulness to avoid what may be injurious
+even in the most unrestrained conversation."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="HOW_DO_WE_KNOW" id="HOW_DO_WE_KNOW"></a>HOW DO WE KNOW?</h2>
+
+
+<p>It was a splendid room. Rich curtains swept down to the floor in
+graceful folds, half excluding the light, and shedding it in soft hues
+over the fine old paintings on the walls, and over the broad mirrors
+that reflect all that taste can accomplish by the hand of wealth. Books,
+the rarest and most costly, were around, in every form of gorgeous
+binding and gilding, and among them, glittering in ornament, lay a
+magnificent Bible&mdash;a Bible too beautiful in its appointments, too showy,
+too ornamental, ever to have been meant to be read&mdash;a Bible which every
+visitor should take up and exclaim, "What a beautiful edition! what
+superb bindings!" and then lay it down again.</p>
+
+<p>And the master of the house was lounging on a sofa, looking over a late
+review&mdash;for he was a man of leisure, taste, and reading&mdash;but, then, as
+to reading the Bible!&mdash;<i>that</i> forms, we suppose, no part of the
+pretensions of a man of letters. The Bible&mdash;certainly he considered it a
+very <i>respectable</i> book&mdash;a fine specimen of ancient literature&mdash;an
+admirable book of moral precepts; but, then, as to its divine origin, he
+had not exactly made up his mind: some parts appeared strange and
+inconsistent to his reason&mdash;others were revolting to his taste: true, he
+had never studied it very attentively, yet such was his <i>general
+impression</i> about it; but, on the whole, he thought it well enough to
+keep an elegant copy of it on his drawing room table.</p>
+
+<p>So much for one picture. Now for another.</p>
+
+<p>Come with us into this little dark alley, and up a flight of ruinous
+stairs. It is a bitter night, and the wind and snow might drive through
+the crevices of the poor room, were it not that careful hands have
+stopped them with paper or cloth. But for all this carefulness, the room
+is bitter cold&mdash;cold even with those few decaying brands on the hearth,
+which that sorrowful woman is trying to kindle with her breath. Do you
+see that pale, little, thin girl, with large, bright eyes, who is
+crouching so near her mother?&mdash;hark!&mdash;how she coughs! Now listen.</p>
+
+<p>"Mary, my dear child," says the mother, "do keep that shawl close about
+you; you are cold, I know," and the woman shivers as she speaks.</p>
+
+<p>"No, mother, not <i>very</i>," replies the child, again relapsing into that
+hollow, ominous cough. "I wish you wouldn't make me always wear your
+shawl when it is cold, mother."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear child, you need it most. How you cough to-night!" replies the
+mother; "it really don't seem right for me to send you up that long,
+cold street; now your shoes have grown so poor, too; I must go myself
+after this."</p>
+
+<p>"O mother, you must stay with the baby&mdash;what if he should have one of
+those dreadful fits while you are gone! No, I can go very well; I have
+got used to the cold now."</p>
+
+<p>"But, mother, I'm cold," says a little voice from the scanty bed in the
+corner; "mayn't I get up and come to the fire?"</p>
+
+<p>"Dear child, it would not warm you; it is very cold here, and I can't
+make any more fire to-night."</p>
+
+<p>"Why can't you, mother? There are four whole sticks of wood in the box;
+do put one on, and let's get warm once."</p>
+
+<p>"No, my dear little Henry," says the mother, soothingly, "that is all
+the wood mother has, and I haven't any money to get more."</p>
+
+<p>And now wakens the sick baby in the cradle, and mother and daughter are
+both for some time busy in attempting to supply its little wants, and
+lulling it again to sleep.</p>
+
+<p>And now look you well at that mother. Six months ago she had a husband,
+whose earnings procured for her both the necessaries and comforts of
+life; her children were clothed, fed, and schooled, without thoughts of
+hers. But husband-less, friendless, and alone in the heart of a great,
+busy city, with feeble health, and only the precarious resource of her
+needle, she has gone down from comfort to extreme poverty. Look at her
+now, as she is to-night. She knows full well that the pale, bright-eyed
+girl, whose hollow cough constantly rings in her ears, is far from well.
+She knows that cold, and hunger, and exposure of every kind, are daily
+and surely wearing away her life. And yet what can she do? Poor soul!
+how many times has she calculated all her little resources, to see if
+she could pay a doctor and get medicine for Mary&mdash;yet all in vain. She
+knows that timely medicine, ease, fresh air, and warmth might save her;
+but she knows that all these things are out of the question for her. She
+feels, too, as a mother would feel, when she sees her once rosy, happy
+little boy becoming pale, and anxious, and fretful; and even when he
+teases her most, she only stops her work a moment, and strokes his
+little thin cheeks, and thinks what a laughing, happy little fellow he
+once was, till she has not a heart to reprove him. And all this day she
+has toiled with a sick and fretful baby in her lap, and her little
+shivering, hungry boy at her side, whom Mary's patient artifices cannot
+always keep quiet; she has toiled over the last piece of work which she
+can procure from the shop, for the man has told her that after this he
+can furnish no more; and the little money that is to come from this is
+already portioned out in her own mind, and after that she has no human
+prospect of support.</p>
+
+<p>But yet that woman's face is patient, quiet, firm. Nay, you may even see
+in her suffering eye something like peace. And whence comes it? I will
+tell you.</p>
+
+<p>There is a Bible in that room, as well as in the rich man's apartment.
+Not splendidly bound, to be sure, but faithfully read&mdash;a plain, homely,
+much-worn book.</p>
+
+<p>Hearken now while she says to her children, "Listen to me, dear
+children, and I will read you something out of this book. 'Let not your
+heart be troubled; in my Father's house are many mansions.' So you see,
+my children, we shall not always live in this little, cold, dark room.
+Jesus Christ has promised to take us to a better home."</p>
+
+<p>"Shall we be warm there all day?" says the little boy, earnestly; "and
+shall we have enough to eat?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, dear child," says the mother; "listen to what the Bible says:
+'They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more; for the Lamb which
+is in the midst of the throne shall feed them; and God shall wipe away
+all tears from their eyes.'"</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad of that," said little Mary, "for, mother, I never can bear to
+see you cry."</p>
+
+<p>"But, mother," says little Henry, "won't God send us something to eat
+to-morrow?"</p>
+
+<p>"See," says the mother, "what the Bible says: 'Seek ye not what ye shall
+eat, nor what ye shall drink, neither be of anxious mind. For your
+Father knoweth that ye have need of these things.'"</p>
+
+<p>"But, mother," says little Mary, "if God is our Father, and loves us,
+what does he let us be so poor for?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nay," says the mother, "our dear Lord Jesus Christ was as poor as we
+are, and God certainly loved him."</p>
+
+<p>"Was he, mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, children; you remember how he said, 'The Son of man hath not where
+to lay his head.' And it tells us more than once that Jesus was hungry
+when there was none to give him food."</p>
+
+<p>"O mother, what should we do without the Bible?" says Mary.</p>
+
+<p>Now, if the rich man, who had not yet made up his mind what to think of
+the Bible, should visit this poor woman, and ask her on what she
+grounded her belief of its truth, what could she answer? Could she give
+the arguments from miracles and prophecy? Could she account for all the
+changes which might have taken place in it through translators and
+copyists, and prove that we have a genuine and uncorrupted version? Not
+she! But how, then, does she know that it is true? How, say you? How
+does she know that she has warm life blood in her heart? How does she
+know that there is such a thing as air and sunshine? She does not
+<i>believe</i> these things&mdash;she <i>knows</i> them; and in like manner, with a
+deep heart consciousness, she is certain that the words of her Bible are
+truth and life. Is it by reasoning that the frightened child, bewildered
+in the dark, knows its mother's voice? No! Nor is it only by reasoning
+that the forlorn and distressed human heart knows the voice of its
+Savior, and is still.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="WHICH_IS_THE_LIBERAL_MAN" id="WHICH_IS_THE_LIBERAL_MAN"></a>WHICH IS THE LIBERAL MAN?</h2>
+
+
+<p>It was a beaming and beautiful summer morning, and the little town of V.
+was alive with all the hurry and motion of a college commencement. Rows
+of carriages lined the rural streets, and groups of well-dressed
+auditors were thronging to the hall of exhibition. All was gayety and
+animation.</p>
+
+<p>And among them all what heart beat higher with hope and gratified
+ambition than that of James Stanton? Young, buoyant, prepossessing in
+person and manners, he was this day, in the presence of all the world,
+to carry off the highest palm of scholarship in his institution, and to
+receive, on the threshold of the great world, the utmost that youthful
+ambition can ask before it enters the arena of actual life. Did not his
+pulse flutter, and his heart beat thick, when he heard himself announced
+in the crowded house as the valedictorian of the day? when he saw aged
+men, and fair, youthful faces, ruddy childhood, and sober, calculating
+manhood alike bending in hushed and eager curiosity, to listen to his
+words? Nay, did not his heart rise in his throat as he caught the gleam
+of his father's eye, while, bending forward on his staff, with white,
+reverend locks falling about his face, he listened to the voice of his
+pride&mdash;his first born? And did he not see the glistening tears in his
+mother's eye, as with rapt ear she hung upon his every word? Ah, the
+young man's first triumph! When, full of confidence and hope, he enters
+the field of life, all his white glistening as yet unsoiled by the dust
+of the combat, the unproved world turning towards him with flatteries
+and promises in both hands, what other triumph does life give so fresh,
+so full, so replete with hope and joy? So felt James Stanton this day,
+when he heard his father congratulated on having a son of such promise;
+when old men, revered for talents and worth, shook hands with him, and
+bade him warmly God speed in the course of life; when bright eyes cast
+glances of favor, and from among the fairest were overheard whispers of
+admiration.</p>
+
+<p>"Your son is designed for the bar, I trust," said the venerable Judge L.
+to the father of James, at the commencement dinner. "I have seldom seen
+a turn of mind better fitted for success in the legal profession. And
+then his voice! his manner! let him go to the bar, sir, and I prophesy
+that he will yet outdo us all."</p>
+
+<p>And this was said in James's hearing, and by one whose commendation was
+not often so warmly called forth. It was not in any young heart not to
+beat quicker at such prospects. Honor, station, wealth, political
+ambition, all seemed to offer themselves to his grasp; but long ere
+this, in the solitude of retirement, in the stillness of prayer and
+self-examination, the young graduate had vowed himself to a different
+destiny; and if we may listen to a conversation, a few evenings after
+commencement, with a classmate, we shall learn more of the secret
+workings of his mind.</p>
+
+<p>"And so, Stanton," said George Lennox to him, as they sat by their
+evening fireside, "you have not yet decided whether to accept Judge L.'s
+offer or not."</p>
+
+<p>"I have decided that matter long ago," said James.</p>
+
+<p>"So, then, you choose the ministry."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, for my part," replied George Lennox, "I choose the law. There
+must be Christians, you know, in every vocation; the law seems to suit
+my turn of mind. I trust it will be my effort to live as becomes a
+Christian, whatever be my calling."</p>
+
+<p>"I trust so," replied James.</p>
+
+<p>"But really, Stanton," added the other, after some thought, "it seems a
+pity to cast away such prospects as open before you. You know your
+tuition is offered gratis; and then the patronage of Judge L., and such
+influences as he can command to secure your success&mdash;pray, do not these
+things seem to you like a providential indication that the law is to be
+your profession? Besides, here in these New England States, the ministry
+is overflowed already&mdash;ministers enough, and too many, if one may judge
+by the number of applicants for every unoccupied place."</p>
+
+<p>"Nay," replied James, "my place is not here. I know, if all accounts are
+true, that my profession is not overflowed in our Western States, and
+there I mean to go."</p>
+
+<p>"And is it possible that you can contemplate such an entire sacrifice of
+your talents, your manners, your literary and scientific tastes, your
+capabilities for refined society, as to bury yourself in a log cabin in
+one of our new states? You will never be appreciated there; your
+privations and sacrifices will be entirely disregarded, and you placed
+on a level with the coarsest and most uneducated sectaries. I really do
+not think you are called to this."</p>
+
+<p>"Who, then, is called?" replied James.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, men with much less of all these good things&mdash;men with real coarse,
+substantial, backwoods furniture in their minds, who will not
+appreciate, and of course not feel, the want of all the refinements and
+comforts which you must sacrifice."</p>
+
+<p>"And are there enough such men ready to meet the emergencies in our
+western world, so that no others need be called upon?" replied James.
+"Men of the class you speak of may do better than I; but, if after all
+their efforts I still am needed, and can work well, ought I not to go?
+Must those only be drafted for religious enterprises to whom they
+involve no sacrifice?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, for my part," replied the other, "I trust I am willing to do any
+thing that is my duty; yet I never could feel it to be my duty to bury
+myself in a new state, among stumps and log cabins. My mind would rust
+itself out; and, missing the stimulus of such society as I have been
+accustomed to, I should run down completely, and be useless in body and
+in mind."</p>
+
+<p>"If you feel so, it would be so," replied James. "If the work there to
+be done would not be stimulus and excitement enough to compensate for
+the absence of all other stimulus,&mdash;if the business of the ministry, the
+<i>saving of human souls</i>, is not the one all-absorbing purpose, and
+desire, and impulse of the whole being,&mdash;then woe to the man who goes to
+preach the gospel where there is nothing but human souls to be gained by
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Stanton," replied the other, after a pause of some seriousness,
+"I cannot say that I have attained to this yet. I don't know but I might
+be brought to it; but at present I must confess it is not so. We ought
+not to rush into a state and employment which we have not the moral
+fortitude to sustain well. In short, for myself, I may make a
+respectable, and, I trust, not useless man in the law, when I could do
+nothing in the circumstances which you choose. However, I respect your
+feelings, and heartily wish that I could share them myself."</p>
+
+<p>A few days after this conversation the young friends parted for their
+several destinations&mdash;the one to a law school, the other to a
+theological seminary.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>It was many years after this that a middle-aged man, of somewhat
+threadbare appearance and restricted travelling conveniences, was seen
+carefully tying his horse at the outer enclosure of an elegant mansion
+in the town of &mdash;&mdash;, in one of our Western States; which being done, he
+eyed the house rather inquisitively, as people sometimes do when they
+are doubtful as to the question of entering or not entering. The house
+belonged to George Lennox, Esq., a lawyer reputed to be doing a more
+extensive business than any other in the state, and the threadbare
+gentleman who plies the knocker at the front door is the Reverend Mr.
+Stanton, a name widely spread in the ecclesiastical circles of the land.
+The door opens, and the old college acquaintances meet with a cordial
+grasp of the hand, and Mr. Stanton soon finds himself pressed to the
+most comfortable accommodations in the warm parlor of his friend; and
+even the slight uneasiness which the wisest are not always exempt from,
+when conscious of a little shabbiness in exterior, was entirely
+dissipated by the evident cordiality of his reception. Since the
+conversation we have alluded to, the two friends pursued their separate
+courses with but few opportunities of personal intercourse. In the true
+zeal of the missionary, James Stanton had thrown himself into the field,
+where it seemed hardest and darkest, and where labor seemed most needed.
+In neighborhoods without churches, without school houses, without
+settled roads, among a population of disorganized and heterogeneous
+material, he had exhorted from house to house, labored individually with
+one after another, till he had, in place after place, brought together
+the elements of a Christian church. Far from all ordinances, means of
+grace, or Christian brotherhood, or coöperation, he had seemed to
+himself to be merely the lonely, solitary "<i>voice</i> of one crying in the
+wilderness," as unassisted, and, to human view, as powerless. With
+poverty, and cold, and physical fatigue he had daily been familiar; and
+where no vehicle could penetrate the miry depths of the forest, where it
+was impracticable even to guide a horse, he had walked miles and miles,
+through mud and rain, to preach. With a wife in delicate health, and a
+young and growing family, he had more than once seen the year when fifty
+dollars was the whole amount of money that had passed through his hands;
+and the whole of the rest of his support had come in disconnected
+contributions from one and another of his people. He had lived without
+books, without newspapers, except as he had found them by chance
+snatches here and there,<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> and felt, as one so circumstanced only can
+feel, the difficulty of maintaining intellectual vigor and energy in
+default of all those stimulants to which cultivated minds in more
+favorable circumstances are so much indebted. At the time that he is now
+introduced to the reader, he had been recently made pastor in one of the
+most important settlements in the state, and among those who, so far as
+worldly circumstances were concerned, were able to afford him a
+competent support. But among communities like those at the west, settled
+for expressly money-making purposes, and by those who have for years
+been taught the lesson to save, and have scarcely begun to feel the duty
+to give, a minister, however laborious, however eloquent and successful,
+may often feel the most serious embarrassments of poverty. Too often is
+his salary regarded as a charity which may be given or retrenched to
+suit every emergency of the times, and his family expenditures watched
+with a jealous and censorious eye.</p>
+
+<p>On the other hand, George Lennox, the lawyer, had by his talents and
+efficiency placed himself at the head of his profession, and was
+realizing an income which brought all the comforts and elegances of life
+within his reach. He was a member of the Christian church in the place
+where he lived, irreproachable in life and conduct. From natural
+generosity of disposition, seconded by principle, he was a liberal
+contributor to all religious and benevolent enterprises, and was often
+quoted and referred to as an example in good works. Surrounded by an
+affectionate and growing family, with ample means for providing in the
+best manner both for their physical and mental development, he justly
+regarded himself as a happy man, and was well satisfied with the world
+he lived in.</p>
+
+<p>Now, there is nothing more trying to the Christianity or the philosophy
+which teaches the vanity of riches than a few hours' domestication in a
+family where wealth is employed, not for purposes of ostentation, but
+for the perfecting of home comfort and the gratification of refined
+intellectual tastes; and as Mr. Stanton leaned back, slippered and
+gowned, in one of the easiest of chairs, and began to look over
+periodicals and valuable new books from which he had long been excluded,
+he might be forgiven for giving a half sigh to the reflection that he
+could never be a rich man. "Have you read this review?" said his
+companion, handing him one of the leading periodicals of the day across
+the table.</p>
+
+<p>"I seldom see reviews," said Mr. Stanton, taking it.</p>
+
+<p>"You lose a great deal," replied the other, "if you have not seen those
+by this author&mdash;altogether the ablest series of literary efforts in our
+time. You clerical gentlemen ought not to sacrifice your literary tastes
+entirely to your professional cares. A moderate attention to current
+literature liberalizes the mind, and gives influence that you could not
+otherwise acquire."</p>
+
+<p>"Literary taste is an expensive thing to a minister," said Mr. Stanton,
+smiling: "for the mind, as well as the body, we must forego all
+luxuries, and confine ourselves simply to necessaries."</p>
+
+<p>"I would always indulge myself with books and periodicals, even if I had
+to scrimp elsewhere," said Mr. Lennox; and he spoke of scrimping with
+all the serious good faith with which people of two or three thousand a
+year usually speak of these matters.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stanton smiled, and waived the subject, wondering mentally where his
+friend would find an elsewhere to scrimp, if he had the management of
+<i>his</i> concerns. The conversation gradually flowed back to college days
+and scenes, and the friends amused themselves with tracing the history
+of their various classmates.</p>
+
+<p>"And so Alsop is in the Senate," said Mr. Stanton. "Strange! We did not
+at all expect it of him. But do you know any thing of George Bush?"</p>
+
+<p>"O, yes," replied the other; "he went into mercantile life, and the last
+I heard he had turned a speculation worth thirty thousand&mdash;a shrewd
+fellow. I always knew he would make his way in the world."</p>
+
+<p>"But what has become of Langdon?"</p>
+
+<p>"O, he is doing well; he is professor of languages in &mdash;&mdash; College, and
+I hear he has lately issued a Latin Grammar that promises to have quite
+a run."</p>
+
+<p>"And Smithson?"</p>
+
+<p>"Smithson has an office at Washington, and was there living in great
+style the last time I saw him."</p>
+
+<p>It may be questioned whether the minister sank to sleep that night, amid
+the many comfortable provisions of his friend's guest chamber, without
+rebuking in his heart a certain rising of regret that he had turned his
+back on all the honors, and distinctions, and comforts which lay around
+the path of others, who had not, in the opening of the race, half the
+advantages of himself. "See," said the insidious voice&mdash;"what have you
+gained? See your early friends surrounded by riches and comfort, while
+you are pinched and harassed by poverty. Have they not, many of them, as
+good a hope of heaven as you have, and all this besides? Could you not
+have lived easier, and been a good man after all?" The reflection was
+only silenced by remembering that the only Being who ever had the
+perfect power of choosing his worldly condition, chose, of his own
+accord, a poverty deeper than that of any of his servants. Had Christ
+consented to be rich, what check could there have been to the desire of
+it among his followers? But he chose to stoop so low that none could be
+lower; and that in extremest want none could ever say, "I am poorer than
+was my Savior and God."</p>
+
+<p>The friends at parting the next morning shook hands warmly, and promised
+a frequent renewal of their resumed intercourse. Nor was the bill for
+twenty dollars, which the minister found in his hand, at all an
+unacceptable addition to the pleasures of his visit; and though the
+November wind whistled keenly through a dull, comfortless sky, he turned
+his horse's head homeward with a lightened heart.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>"Mother's sick, and <i>I'm</i> a-keeping house!" said a little flaxen-headed
+girl, in all the importance of seven years, as her father entered the
+dwelling.</p>
+
+<p>"Your mother sick! what's the matter?" inquired Mr. Stanton.</p>
+
+<p>"She caught cold washing, yesterday, while you were gone;" and when the
+minister stood by the bedside of his sick wife, saw her flushed face,
+and felt her feverish pulse, he felt seriously alarmed. She had scarcely
+recovered from a dangerous fever when he left home, and with reason he
+dreaded a relapse.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear, why have you done so?" was the first expostulation; "why did
+you not send for old Agnes to do your washing, as I told you."</p>
+
+<p>"I felt so well, I thought I was quite able," was the reply; "and you
+know it will take all the money we have now in hand to get the
+children's shoes before cold weather comes, and nobody knows when we
+shall have any more."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Mary, comfort your heart as to that. I have had a present to-day
+of twenty dollars&mdash;that will last us some time. God always provides when
+need is greatest." And so, after administering a little to the comfort
+of his wife, the minister addressed himself to the business of cooking
+something for dinner for himself and his little hungry flock.</p>
+
+<p>"There is no bread in the house," he exclaimed, after a survey of the
+ways and means at his disposal.</p>
+
+<p>"I must try and sit up long enough to make some," said his wife faintly.</p>
+
+<p>"You must try to be quiet," replied the husband. "We can do very well on
+potatoes. But yet," he added, "I think if I bring the things to your
+bedside, and you show me how to mix them, I could make some bread."</p>
+
+<p>A burst of laughter from the young fry chorused his proposal;
+nevertheless, as Mr. Stanton was a man of decided genius, by help of
+much showing, and of strong arms and good will, the feat was at length
+accomplished in no unworkmanlike manner; and while the bread was put
+down to the fire to rise, and the potatoes were baking in the oven, Mr.
+Stanton having enjoined silence on his noisy troop, sat down, pencil in
+hand, by his wife's bed, to prepare a sermon.</p>
+
+<p>We would that those ministers who feel that they cannot compose without
+a study, and that the airiest and pleasantest room in the house, where
+the floor is guarded by the thick carpet, the light carefully relieved
+by curtains, where papers are filed and arranged neatly in conveniences
+purposely adjusted, with books of reference standing invitingly around,
+could once figure to themselves the process of composing a sermon in
+circumstances such as we have painted. Mr. Stanton had written his text,
+and jotted down something of an introduction, when a circumstance
+occurred which is almost inevitable in situations where a person has any
+thing else to attend to&mdash;<i>the baby woke</i>. The little interloper was to
+be tied into a chair, while the flaxen-headed young housekeeper was now
+installed into the office of waiter in ordinary to her majesty, and by
+shaking a newspaper before her face, plying a rattle, or other arts
+known only to the initiate, to prevent her from indulging in any
+unpleasant demonstrations, while Mr. Stanton proceeded with his train of
+thought.</p>
+
+<p>"Papa, papa! the teakettle! only look!" cried all the younger ones, just
+as he was again beginning to abstract his mind.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stanton rose, and adapting part of his sermon paper to the handle of
+the teakettle, poured the boiling water on some herb drink for his wife,
+and then recommenced.</p>
+
+<p>"I sha'n't have much of a sermon!" he soliloquized, as his youngest but
+one, with the ingenuity common to children of her standing, had
+contrived to tip herself over in her chair, and cut her under lip, which
+for the time being threw the whole settlement into commotion; and this
+conviction was strengthened by finding that it was now time to give the
+children their dinner.</p>
+
+<p>"I fear Mrs. Stanton is imprudent in exerting herself," said the medical
+man to the husband, as he examined her symptoms.</p>
+
+<p>"I know she is," replied her husband, "but I cannot keep her from it."</p>
+
+<p>"It is absolutely indispensable that she should rest and keep her mind
+easy," said the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>"Rest and keep easy"&mdash;how easily the words are said! yet how they fall
+on the ear of a mother, who knows that her whole flock have not yet a
+garment prepared for winter, that hiring assistance is out of the
+question, and that the work must all be done by herself&mdash;who sees that
+while she is sick her husband is perplexed, and kept from his
+appropriate duties, and her children, despite his well-meant efforts,
+suffering for the want of those attentions that only a mother can give.
+Will not any mother, so tried, rise from her sick bed before she feels
+able, to be again prostrated by over-exertion, until the vigor of the
+constitution year by year declines, and she sinks into an early grave?
+Yet this is the true history of many a wife and mother, who, in
+consenting to share the privations of a western minister, has as truly
+sacrificed her life as did ever martyr on heathen shores. The graves of
+Harriet Newell and Mrs. Judson are hallowed as the shrines of saints,
+and their memory made as a watchword among Christians; yet the western
+valley is full of green and nameless graves, where patient,
+long-enduring wives and mothers have lain down, worn out by the
+privations of as severe a missionary field, and "no man knoweth the
+place of their sepulchre."</p>
+
+<p>The crisp air of a November evening was enlivened by the fire that
+blazed merrily in the bar room of the tavern in L., while a more than
+usual number crowded about the hearth, owing to the session of the
+county court in that place.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Lennox is a pretty smart lawyer," began an old gentleman, who sat
+in one of the corners, in the half interrogative tone which indicated a
+wish to start conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir, no mistake about that," was the reply; "does the largest
+business in the state&mdash;very smart man, sir, and honest&mdash;a church member
+too, and one of the tallest kinds of Christians they say&mdash;gives more
+money for building meeting houses, and all sorts of religious concerns,
+than any man around."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, he can afford it," said a man with a thin, care-taking visage,
+and a nervous, anxious twitch of the hand, as if it were his constant
+effort to hold on to something&mdash;"he can afford it, for he makes money
+hand over hand. It is not every body can afford to do as he does."</p>
+
+<p>A sly look of intelligence pervaded the company; for the speaker, one of
+the most substantial householders in the settlement, was always taken
+with distressing symptoms of poverty and destitution when any allusion
+to public or religious charity was made.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. C. is thinking about parish matters," said a wicked wag of the
+company; "you see, sir, our minister urged pretty hard last Sunday to
+have his salary paid up. He has had sickness in his family, and nothing
+on hand for winter expenses."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think Mr. Stanton is judicious in making such public
+statements," said the former speaker, nervously; "he ought to consult
+his friends privately, and not bring temporalities into the pulpit."</p>
+
+<p>"That is to say, starve decently, and make no fuss," replied the other.</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense! Who talks of starving, when provision is as plenty as
+blackberries? I tell you I understand this matter, and know how little a
+man can get along with. I've tried it myself. When I first set out in
+life, my wife and I had not a pair of andirons or a shovel and tongs for
+two or three years, and we never thought of complaining. The times are
+hard. We are all losing, and must get along as we can; and Mr. Stanton
+must bear some rubs as well as the rest of us."</p>
+
+<p>"It appears to me, Mr. C," said the waggish gentleman aforesaid, "that
+if you'd put Mr. Stanton into your good brick house, and give him your
+furniture and income, he would be well satisfied to rub along as you
+do."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Stanton isn't so careful in his expenses as he might be," said Mr.
+C., petulantly, disregarding the idea started by his neighbor; "he buys
+things <i>I</i> should not think of buying. Now, I was in his house the other
+day, and he had just given three dollars for a single book."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps it was a book he needed in his studies," suggested the old
+gentleman who began the conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the use of book larnin' to a minister, if he's got the real
+spirit in him?" chimed in a rough-looking man in the farthest corner;
+"only wish you could have heard Elder North give it off&mdash;<i>there</i> was a
+real genuine preacher for you, couldn't even read his text in the Bible;
+yet, sir, he would get up and reel it off as smooth and fast as the best
+of them, that come out of the colleges. My notion is, it's the <i>spirit</i>
+that's the thing, after all."</p>
+
+<p>Several of the auditors seemed inclined to express their approbation of
+this doctrine, though some remarked that Mr. Stanton was a smarter
+preacher than Elder North, for all his book larnin'.</p>
+
+<p>Some of the more intelligent of the circle here exchanged smiles, but
+declined entering the lists in favor of "larnin'."</p>
+
+<p>"O, for my part," resumed Mr. C., "I am for having a minister study, and
+have books and all that, if he can afford it; but in hard times like
+these, books are neither meat, drink, nor fire; and I know I can't
+afford them. Now, I'm as willing to contribute my part to the minister's
+salary, and every other charity, as any body, when I can get money to do
+it; but in these times I <i>can't</i> get it."</p>
+
+<p>The elderly gentleman here interrupted the conversation by saying,
+abruptly, "I am a townsman of Mr. Stanton's, and it is <i>my</i> opinion that
+<i>he</i> has impoverished himself by giving in religious charity."</p>
+
+<p>"Giving in charity!" exclaimed several voices; "where did he ever get
+any thing to give?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yet I think I speak within bounds," said the old gentleman, "when I say
+that he has given more than the amount of two thousand dollars yearly to
+the support of the gospel in this state; and I think I can show it to be
+so."</p>
+
+<p>The eyes of the auditors were now enlarged to their utmost limits, while
+the old gentleman, after the fashion of shrewd old gentlemen generally,
+screwed up his mouth in a very dry twist, and looked in the fire without
+saying a word.</p>
+
+<p>"Come now, pray tell us how this is," said several of the company.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sir," said the old man, addressing himself to Mr. C., "you are a
+man of business, and will perhaps understand the case as I view it. You
+were speaking this evening of lawyer Lennox. He and your minister were
+both from my native place, and both there and in college your minister
+was always reckoned the smartest of the two, and went ahead in every
+thing they undertook. Now, you see Mr. Lennox, out of his talents and
+education, makes say three thousand a year. Mr. Stanton had more talent,
+and more education, and might have made even more; but by devoting
+himself to the work of the ministry in your state, he gains, we will
+say, about four hundred dollars. Does he not, therefore, in fact, give
+all the difference between four hundred and three thousand to the cause
+of religion in this state? If, during the business season of the year,
+you, Mr. C., should devote your whole time to some benevolent
+enterprise, would you not feel that you had virtually given to that
+enterprise all the money you would otherwise have made? Instead,
+therefore, of calling it a charity for you to subscribe to your
+minister's support, you ought to consider it a very expensive charity
+for him to devote his existence in preaching to you. To bring the gospel
+to your state, he has given up a reasonable prospect of an income of two
+or three thousand, and contents himself with the least sum which will
+keep soul and body together, without the possibility of laying up a cent
+for his family in case of his sickness and death. This, sir, is what <i>I</i>
+call giving in charity."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_ELDERS_FEAST" id="THE_ELDERS_FEAST"></a>THE ELDER'S FEAST.</h2>
+
+<h3>A TRADITION OF LAODICEA.</h3>
+
+
+<p>At a certain time in the earlier ages there lived in the city of
+Laodicea a Christian elder of some repute, named Onesiphorus. The world
+had smiled on him, and though a Christian, he was rich and full of
+honors. All men, even the heathen, spoke well of him, for he was a man
+courteous of speech and mild of manner.</p>
+
+<p>His wife, a fair Ionian lady but half reclaimed from idolatry, though
+baptized and accredited as a member of the Christian church, still
+lingered lovingly on the confines of old heathenism, and if she did not
+believe, still cherished with pleasure the poetic legends of Apollo and
+Venus, of Jove and Diana.</p>
+
+<p>A large and fair family of sons and daughters had risen around these
+parents; but their education had been much after the rudiments of this
+world, and not after Christ. Though, according to the customs of the
+church, they were brought to the font of baptism, and sealed in the name
+of the Father, and the Son, and Holy Ghost, and although daily, instead
+of libations to the Penates, or flower offerings to Diana and Juno, the
+name of Jesus was invoked, yet the <i>spirit</i> of Jesus was wanting. The
+chosen associates of all these children, as they grew older, were among
+the heathen; and daily they urged their parents, by their entreaties, to
+conform, in one thing after another, to heathen usage. "Why should we be
+singular, mother?" said the dark-eyed Myrrah, as she bound her hair and
+arranged her dress after the fashion of the girls in the temple of
+Venus. "Why may we not wear the golden ornaments and images which have
+been consecrated to heathen goddesses?" said the sprightly Thalia;
+"surely none others are to be bought, and are we to do altogether
+without?" "And why may we not be at feasts where libations are made to
+Apollo or Jupiter?" said the sons; "so long as we do not consent to it
+or believe in it, will our faith be shaken thereby?" "How are we ever to
+reclaim the heathen, if we do not mingle among them?" said another son;
+"did not our Master eat with publicans and sinners?"</p>
+
+<p>It was, however, to be remarked, that no conversions of the heathen to
+Christianity ever took place through the means of these complying sons
+and daughters, or any of the number who followed their example. Instead
+of withdrawing any from the confines of heathenism, they themselves were
+drawn so nearly over, that in certain situations and circumstances they
+would undoubtedly have been ranked among them by any but a most
+scrutinizing observer. If any in the city of Laodicea were ever led to
+unite themselves with Jesus, it was by means of a few who observed the
+full simplicity of the ancient faith, and who, though honest, tender,
+and courteous in all their dealings with the heathen, still went not a
+step with them in conformity to any of their customs.</p>
+
+<p>In time, though the family we speak of never broke off from the
+Christian church, yet if you had been in it, you might have heard much
+warm and earnest conversation about things that took place at the baths,
+or in feasts to various divinities; but if any one spoke of Jesus, there
+was immediately a cold silence, a decorous, chilling, respectful pause,
+after which the conversation, with a bound, flew back into the old
+channel again.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>It was now night; and the house of Onesiphorus the Elder was blazing
+with torches, alive with music, and all the hurry and stir of a
+sumptuous banquet. All the wealth and fashion of Laodicea were there,
+Christian and heathen; and all that the classic voluptuousness of
+Oriental Greece could give to shed enchantment over the scene was there.
+In ancient times the festivals of Christians in Laodicea had been
+regulated in the spirit of the command of Jesus, as recorded by Luke,
+whose classical Greek had made his the established version in Asia
+Minor. "And thou, when thou makest a feast, call not thy friends and thy
+kinsmen, nor thy rich neighbors, lest they also bid thee, and a
+recompense be made thee. But when thou makest a feast, call the poor,
+and the maimed, and the lame, and the blind, and thou shalt be blessed;
+for they cannot recompense thee, but thou shalt be recompensed at the
+resurrection of the just."</p>
+
+<p>That very day, before the entertainment, had this passage been quoted in
+the ears of the family by Cleon, the youngest son, who, different from
+all his family, had cherished in his bosom the simplicity of the old
+belief.</p>
+
+<p>"How ridiculous! how absurd!" had been the reply of the more thoughtless
+members of the family, when Cleon cited the above passage as in point to
+the evening's entertainment. The dark-eyed mother looked reproof on the
+levity of the younger children, and decorously applauded the passage,
+which she said had no application to the matter in hand.</p>
+
+<p>"But, mother, even if the passage be not literally taken, it must mean
+<i>something</i>. What did the Lord Jesus intend by it? If we Christians may
+make entertainments with all the parade and expense of our heathen
+neighbors, and thus spend the money that might be devoted to charity,
+what does this passage mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Your father gives in charity as handsomely as any Christian in
+Laodicea," said his mother warmly.</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, mother, that may be; but I bethink me now of two or three times
+when means have been wanting for the relieving of the poor, and the
+ransoming of captives, and the support of apostles, when we have said
+that we could give no more."</p>
+
+<p>"My son," said his mother, "you do not understand the ways of the
+world."</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, how should he?" said Thalia, "shut up day and night with that old
+papyrus of St. Luke and Paul's Epistles. One may have too much of a good
+thing."</p>
+
+<p>"But does not the holy Paul say, 'Be not conformed to this world'?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly," said the elder; "that means that we should be baptized, and
+not worship in the heathen temples."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear son," said his mother, "you intend well, doubtless; but you
+have not sufficient knowledge of life to estimate our relations to
+society. Entertainments of this sort are absolutely necessary to sustain
+our position in the world. If we accept, we must return them."</p>
+
+<p>But not to dwell on this conversation, let us suppose ourselves in the
+rooms now glittering with lights, and gay with every costly luxury of
+wealth and taste. Here were statues to Diana and Apollo, and to the
+household Juno&mdash;not meant for worship&mdash;of course not&mdash;but simply to
+conform to the general usages of good society; and so far had this
+complaisance been carried, that the shrine of a peerless Venus was
+adorned with garlands and votive offerings, and an exquisitely wrought
+silver censer diffused its perfume on the marble altar in front. This
+complaisance on the part of some of the younger members of the family
+drew from the elder a gentle remonstrance, as having an unseemly
+appearance for those bearing the Christian name; but they readily
+answered, "Has not Paul said, 'We know that an idol is nothing'? Where
+is the harm of an elegant statue, considered merely as a consummate work
+of art? As for the flowers, are they not simply the most appropriate
+ornament? And where is the harm of burning exquisite perfume? And is it
+worse to burn it in one place than another?"</p>
+
+<p>"Upon my sword," said one of the heathen guests, as he wandered through
+the gay scene, "how liberal and accommodating these Christians are
+becoming! Except in a few small matters in the temple, they seem to be
+with us entirely."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," said another, "it was not so years back. Nothing was heard among
+them, then, but prayers, and alms, and visits to the poor and sick; and
+when they met together in their feasts, there was so much of their talk
+of Christ, and such singing of hymns and prayer, that one of us found
+himself quite out of place."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said an old man present, "in those days I quite bethought me of
+being some day a Christian; but look you, they are grown so near like us
+now, it is scarce worth one's while to change. A little matter of
+ceremony in the temple, and offering incense to Jesus, instead of
+Jupiter, when all else is the same, can make small odds in a man."</p>
+
+<p>But now, the ancient legend goes on to say, that in the midst of that
+gay and brilliant evening, a stranger of remarkable appearance and
+manners was noticed among the throng. None knew him, or whence he came.
+He mingled not in the mirth, and seemed to recognize no one present,
+though he regarded all that was passing with a peculiar air of still and
+earnest attention; and wherever he moved, his calm, penetrating gaze
+seemed to diffuse a singular uneasiness about him. Now his eye was fixed
+with a quiet scrutiny on the idolatrous statues, with their votive
+adornments&mdash;now it followed earnestly the young forms that were
+wreathing in the graceful waves of the dance; and then he turned towards
+the tables, loaded with every luxury and sparkling with wines, where the
+devotion to Bacchus became more than poetic fiction; and as he gazed, a
+high, indignant sorrow seemed to overshadow the calmness of his majestic
+face. When, in thoughtless merriment, some of the gay company sought to
+address him, they found themselves shrinking involuntarily from the
+soft, piercing eye, and trembling at the low, sweet tones in which he
+replied. What he spoke was brief; but there was a gravity and tender
+wisdom in it that strangely contrasted with the frivolous scene, and
+awakened unwonted ideas of heavenly purity even in thoughtless and
+dissipated minds.</p>
+
+<p>The only one of the company who seemed to seek his society was the
+youngest, the fair little child Isa. She seemed as strangely attracted
+towards him as others were repelled; and when, unsolicited, in the frank
+confidence of childhood she pressed to his side, and placed her little
+hand in his, the look of radiant compassion and tenderness which beamed
+down from those eyes was indeed glorious to behold. Yet here and there,
+as he glided among the crowd, he spoke in the ear of some Christian
+words which, though soft and low, seemed to have a mysterious and
+startling power; for one after another, pensive, abashed, and
+confounded, they drew aside from the gay scene, and seemed lost in
+thought. That stranger&mdash;who was he? Who? The inquiry passed from mouth
+to mouth, and one and another, who had listened to his low, earnest
+tones, looked on each other with a troubled air. Ere long he had glided
+hither and thither in the crowd; he had spoken in the ear of every
+Christian&mdash;and suddenly again he was gone, and they saw him no more.
+Each had felt the heart thrill within&mdash;each spirit had vibrated as if
+the finger of its Creator had touched it, and shrunk conscious as if an
+omniscient eye were upon it. Each heart was stirred from its depths.
+Vain sophistries, worldly maxims, making the false look true, all
+appeared to rise and clear away like a mist; and at once each one seemed
+to see, as God sees, the true state of the inner world, the true motive
+and reason of action, and in the instinctive pause that passed through
+the company, the banquet was broken up and deserted.</p>
+
+<p>"And what if their God were present?" said one of the heathen members of
+the company, next day. "Why did they all look so blank? A most favorable
+omen, we should call it, to have one's patron divinity at a feast."</p>
+
+<p>"Besides," said another, "these Christians hold that their God is always
+every where present; so, at most, they have but had their eyes opened to
+see Him who is always there!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>What is practically the meaning of the precept, "Be not conformed to the
+world?" In its every-day results, it presents many problems difficult of
+solution. There are so many shades and blendings of situation and
+circumstances, so many things, innocent and graceful in themselves,
+which, like flowers and incense on a heathen altar, become unchristian
+only through position and circumstances, that the most honest and
+well-intentioned are often perplexed.</p>
+
+<p>That we must conform in some things, is conceded; yet the whole tenor of
+the New Testament shows that this conformity must have its limits&mdash;that
+Christians are to be <i>transformed</i>, so as to exhibit to the world a
+higher and more complete style of life, and thus "<i>prove</i> what is the
+good, and acceptable, and perfect will of God."</p>
+
+<p>But in many particulars as to style of living and modes of social
+intercourse, there can be no definite rules laid down, and no Christian
+can venture to judge another by his standard.</p>
+
+<p>One Christian condemns dress adornment, and the whole application of
+taste to the usages of life, as a sinful waste of time and money.
+Another, perceiving in every work of God a love and appreciation of the
+beautiful, believes that there is a sphere in which he is pleased to see
+the same trait in his children, if the indulgence do not become
+excessive, and thus interfere with higher duties.</p>
+
+<p>One condemns all time and expense laid out in social visiting as so much
+waste. Another remembers that Jesus, when just entering on the most vast
+and absorbing work, turned aside to attend a wedding feast, and wrought
+his first miracle to enhance its social enjoyment. Again, there are
+others who, because <i>some</i> indulgence of taste and some exercise for the
+social powers are admissible, go all lengths in extravagance, and in
+company, dress, and the externals of life.</p>
+
+<p>In the same manner, with regard to style of life and social
+entertainment&mdash;most of the items which go to constitute what is called
+style of living, or the style of particular parties, may be in
+themselves innocent, and yet they may be so interwoven and combined with
+evils, that the whole effect shall be felt to be decidedly unchristian,
+both by Christians and the world. How, then, shall the well-disposed
+person know where to stop, and how to strike the just medium?</p>
+
+<p>We know of but one safe rule: read the life of Jesus with
+attention&mdash;<i>study</i> it&mdash;inquire earnestly with yourself, "What sort of a
+person, in thought, in feeling, in action, was my Savior?"&mdash;live in
+constant sympathy and communion with him&mdash;and there will be within a
+kind of instinctive rule by which to try all things. A young man, who
+was to be exposed to the temptations of one of the most dissipated
+European capitals, carried with him his father's picture, and hung it in
+his apartment. Before going out to any of the numerous resorts of the
+city, he was accustomed to contemplate this picture, and say to himself,
+"Would my father wish to see me in the place to which I am going?" and
+thus was he saved from many a temptation. In like manner the Christian,
+who has always by his side the beautiful ideal of his Savior, finds it a
+holy charm, by which he is gently restrained from all that is unsuitable
+to his profession. He has but to inquire of any scene or employment,
+"Should I be well pleased to meet my Savior there? Would the trains of
+thought I should there fall into, the state of mind that would there be
+induced, be such as would harmonize with an interview with him?" Thus
+protected and defended, social enjoyment might be like that of Mary and
+John, and the disciples, when, under the mild, approving eye of the Son
+of God, they shared the festivities of Cana.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="LITTLE_FRED_THE_CANAL_BOY" id="LITTLE_FRED_THE_CANAL_BOY"></a>LITTLE FRED, THE CANAL BOY.</h2>
+
+
+<h3>PART I.</h3>
+
+<p>In the outskirts of the little town of Toledo, in Ohio, might be seen a
+small, one-story cottage, whose external architecture no way
+distinguished it from dozens of other residences of the poor, by which
+it was surrounded. But over this dwelling, a presiding air of sanctity
+and neatness, of quiet and repose, marked it out as different from every
+other.</p>
+
+<p>The little patch before the door, instead of being a loafing ground for
+swine, and a receptacle of litter and filth, was trimly set with
+flowers, weeded, watered, and fenced with dainty care. The scarlet
+bignonia clambered over the mouldering logs of the sides, shrouding
+their roughness in its gorgeous mantle of green and crimson, and the
+good old-fashioned morning glory, laced across the window, unfolded,
+every day, tints whose beauty, though cheap and common, the finest
+French milliner might in vain seek to rival.</p>
+
+<p>When, in travelling the western country, you meet such a dwelling, do
+you not instinctively know what you shall see inside of it? Do you not
+seem to see the trimly-sanded floor, the well-kept furniture, the snowy
+muslin curtain? Are you not sure that on a neat stand you shall see, as
+on an altar, the dear old family Bible, brought, like the ancient ark of
+the covenant, into the far wilderness, and ever overshadowed, as a
+bright cloud, with remembered prayers and counsels of father and mother,
+in a far off New England home?</p>
+
+<p>And in this cottage there was such a Bible, brought from the wild hills
+of New Hampshire, and its middle page recorded the marriage of James
+Sandford to Mary Irving; and alas! after it another record, traced in a
+trembling hand&mdash;the death of James Sandford, at Toledo. And this fair,
+thin woman, in the black dress, with soft brown hair parted over a pale
+forehead, with calm, patient blue eyes, and fading cheek, is the once
+energetic, buoyant, light-hearted New Hampshire girl, who has brought
+with her the strongest religious faith, the active practical knowledge,
+the skilful, well-trained hand and clear head, with which cold New
+England portions her daughters. She had left all, and come to the
+western wilds with no other capital than her husband's manly heart and
+active brain&mdash;he young, strong, full of hope, prompt, energetic, and
+skilled to acquire&mdash;she careful, prudent, steady, no less skilled to
+save; and between the two no better firm for acquisition and prospective
+success could be desired. Every body prophesied that James Sandford
+would succeed, and Mary heard these praises with a quiet exultation. But
+alas! that whole capital of hers&mdash;that one strong, young heart, that
+ready, helpful hand&mdash;two weeks of the country's fever sufficed to lay
+them cold and low forever.</p>
+
+<p>And Mary yet lived, with her babe in her arms, and one bright little boy
+by her side; and this boy is our little brown-eyed Fred&mdash;the hero of our
+story. But few years had rolled over his curly head, when he first
+looked, weeping and wondering, on the face of death. Ah, one look on
+that awful face adds years at once to the age of the heart; and little
+Fred felt manly thoughts aroused in him by the cold stillness of his
+father, and the deep, calm anguish of his mother.</p>
+
+<p>"O mamma, don't cry so, don't," said the little fellow. "I am alive, and
+I can take care of you. Dear mamma, I pray for you every day." And Mary
+was comforted even in her tears and thought, as she looked into those
+clear, loving brown eyes, that her little intercessor would not plead in
+vain; for saith Jesus, "Their angels do always behold the face of my
+Father which is in heaven."</p>
+
+<p>In a few days she learned to look her sorrows calmly in the face, like a
+brave, true woman, as she was. She was a widow, and out of the sudden
+wreck of her husband's plans but a pittance remained to her, and she
+cast about, with busy hand and head, for some means to eke it out. She
+took in sewing&mdash;she took in washing and ironing; and happy did the young
+exquisite deem himself, whose shirts came with such faultless plaits,
+such snowy freshness, from the slender hands of Mary. With that
+matchless gift which old Yankee housewives call faculty, Mary kept
+together all the ends of her ravelled skein of life, and began to make
+them wind smoothly. Her baby was the neatest of all babies, as it was
+assuredly the prettiest, and her little Fred the handiest and most
+universal genius of all boys. It was Fred that could wring out all the
+stockings, and hang out all the small clothes, that tended the baby by
+night and by day, that made her a wagon out of an old soap box, in which
+he drew her in triumph; and at their meals he stood reverently in his
+father's place, and with folded hands repeated, "Bless the Lord, O my
+soul, and forget not all his mercies;" and his mother's heart responded
+amen to the simple prayer. Then he learned, with manifold puffing and
+much haggling, to saw wood quite decently, and to swing an axe almost as
+big as himself in wood splitting; and he ran of errands, and did
+business with an air of bustling importance that was edifying to see; he
+knew the prices of lard, butter, and dried apples, as well as any man
+about, and, as the store-keeper approvingly told him, was a smart chap
+at a bargain. Fred grew three inches higher the moment he heard it.</p>
+
+<p>In the evenings after the baby was asleep, Fred sat by his mother with
+slate and book, deep in the mysteries of reading, writing, and
+ciphering; and then the mother and son talked over their little plans,
+and hallowed their nightly rest by prayer; and when, before retiring,
+his mother knelt with him by his little bed and prayed, the child often
+sobbed with a strange emotion, for which he could give no reason.
+Something there is in the voice of real prayer that thrills a child's
+heart, even before he understands it; the holy tones are a kind of
+heavenly music, and far off in distant years, the callous and worldly
+man, often thrills to his heart's core, when some turn of life recalls
+to him his mother's prayer.</p>
+
+<p>So passed the first years of the life of Fred. Meanwhile his little
+sister had come to toddle about the cottage floor, full of insatiable
+and immeasurable schemes of mischief. It was she that upset the clothes
+basket, and pulled over the molasses pitcher on to her own astonished
+head, and with incredible labor upset every pail of water that by
+momentary thoughtlessness was put within reach. It was she that was
+found stuffing poor, solemn old pussy head first into the water jar,
+that wiped up the floor with her mother's freshly-ironed clothes, and
+jabbered meanwhile, in most unexampled Babylonish dialect, her own
+vindications and explanations of these misdemeanors. Every day her
+mother declared that she must begin to get that child into some kind of
+order; but still the merry little curly pate contemned law and order,
+and laughed at all ideas of retributive justice, and Fred and his mother
+laughed and deplored, in the same invariable succession, the various
+direful results of her activity and enterprise.</p>
+
+<p>But still, as Mary toiled on, heavy cares weighed down her heart. Her
+boy grew larger and larger, and her own health grew feebler in
+proportion as it needed to be stronger. Sometimes a whole week at a time
+found her scarce able to crawl from her bed, shaking with ague, or
+burning with fever; and when there is little or nothing with which to
+replace them, how fast food seems to be consumed, and clothing to be
+worn out! And so at length it came to pass that, notwithstanding the
+labors of the most tireless of needles, and the cutting, clipping, and
+contriving of the most ingenious of hands, the poor mother was forced to
+own to herself that her darlings looked really shabby, and kind
+neighbors one by one hinted and said that she must do something with her
+boy&mdash;that he was old enough to earn his own living; and the same idea
+occurred to the spirited little fellow himself.</p>
+
+<p>He had often been along by the side of the canal, and admired the
+horses; for between a horse and Fred there was a perfect magnetic
+sympathy, and no lot in life looked to him so bright and desirable as to
+be able to sit on a horse and drive all day long; and when Captain W.,
+pleased with the boy's bright face and prompt motions, sought to enlist
+him as one of his drivers, he found a delighted listener. "If he could
+only persuade mother, there was nothing like it." For many nights after
+the matter was proposed, Mary only cried; and all Fred's eloquence, and
+his brave promises of never doing any thing wrong, and being the best of
+all supposable boys, were insufficient to console her.</p>
+
+<p>Every time she looked at the neat, pure little bed, beside her own, that
+bed hallowed by so many prayers, and saw her boy, with his glowing
+cheeks and long and dark lashes, sleeping so innocently and trustfully,
+her heart died within her, as she thought of a dirty berth on the canal
+boat, and rough boatmen, swearing, chewing tobacco, and drinking; and
+should she take her darling from her bosom and throw him out among
+these? Ah, happy mother! look at your little son of ten years, and ask
+yourself, if you were obliged to do this, should you not tremble! Give
+God thanks, therefore, you can hold your child to your heart till he is
+old enough to breast the dark wave of life. The poor must throw them in,
+to sink or swim, as happens. Not for ease&mdash;not for freedom from
+care&mdash;not for commodious house and fine furniture, and all that
+competence gives, should you thank God so much as for this, that you are
+able to shelter, guide, restrain, and educate the helpless years of your
+children.</p>
+
+<p>Mary yielded at last to that master who can subdue all wills&mdash;necessity.
+Sorrowfully, yet with hope in God, she made up the little package for
+her boy, and communicated to him with renewed minuteness her parting
+counsels and instructions. Fred was bright and full of hope. He was sure
+of the great point about which his mother's anxiety clustered&mdash;he should
+be a good boy, he knew he should; he never should swear; he never should
+touch a drop of spirits, no matter who asked him&mdash;that he was sure of.
+Then he liked horses so much: he should ride all day and never get
+tired, and he would come back and bring her some money; and so the boy
+and his mother parted.</p>
+
+<p>Physical want or hardship is not the great thing which a mother need
+dread for her child in our country. There is scarce any situation in
+America where a child would not receive, as a matter of course, good
+food and shelter; nor is he often overworked. In these respects a
+general spirit of good nature is perceptible among employers, so that
+our Fred meets none of the harrowing adventures of an Oliver Twist in
+his new situation.</p>
+
+<p>To be sure he soon found it was not as good fun to ride a horse hour
+after hour, and day after day, as it was to prance and caper about for
+the first few minutes. At first his back ached, and his little hands
+grew stiff, and he wished his turn were out, hours before the time; but
+time mended all this. He grew healthy and strong, and though
+occasionally kicked and tumbled about rather unceremoniously by the
+rough men among whom he had been cast, yet, as they said, "he was a chap
+that always came down on his feet, throw him which way you would;" and
+for this reason he was rather a favorite among them. The fat, black
+cook, who piqued himself particularly on making corn cake and singing
+Methodist hymns in a style of unsurpassed excellence, took Fred into
+particular favor, and being equally at home in kitchen and camp meeting
+lore, not only put by for him various dainty scraps and fragments, but
+also undertook to further his moral education by occasional luminous
+exhortations and expositions of Scripture, which somewhat puzzled poor
+Fred, and greatly amused the deck hands.</p>
+
+<p>Often, after driving all day, Fred sat on deck beside his fat friend,
+while the boat glided on through miles and miles of solemn, unbroken old
+woods, and heard him sing about "de New Jerusalem," about "good old
+Moses, and Paul, and Silas," with a kind of dreamy, wild pleasure. To be
+sure it was not like his mother's singing; but then it had a sort of
+good sound, although he never could very precisely make out the meaning.</p>
+
+<p>As to being a good boy, Fred, to do him justice, certainly tried to very
+considerable purpose. He did not swear as yet, although he heard so much
+of it daily that it seemed the most natural thing in the world; and
+although one and another of the hands often offered him tempting
+portions of their potations, as they said, "to make a man of him," yet
+Fred faithfully kept his little temperance pledge to his mother. Many a
+weary hour, as he rode, and rode, and rode through hundreds of miles of
+unvarying forest, he strengthened his good resolutions by thoughts of
+home and its scenes.</p>
+
+<p>There sat his mother; there stood his own little bed; there his baby
+sister, toddling about in her night gown; and he repeated the prayers
+and sung the hymns his mother taught him, and thus the good seed still
+grew within him. In fact, with no very distinguished adventures, Fred
+achieved the journey to Cincinnati and back, and proud of his laurels,
+and with his wages in his pocket, found himself again at the familiar
+door.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Fred! a sad surprise awaited him. The elfin shadow that was once
+ever flitting about the dwelling was gone; the little pattering
+footsteps, the tireless, busy fingers, all gone! and his mother, paler,
+sicker, sadder than before, clasped him to her bosom, and called him her
+only comfort. Fred had brought a pocket full of sugar plums, and the
+brightest of yellow oranges to his little pet; alas! how mournfully he
+regarded them now!</p>
+
+<p>How little do we realize, when we hear that such and such a poor woman
+has lost her baby, how much is implied to her in the loss! She is poor;
+she must work hard; the child was a great addition to her cares; and
+even pitying neighbors say, "It was better for her, poor thing! and for
+the child too." But perhaps this very child was the only flower of a
+life else wholly barren and desolate. There is often, even in the
+humblest and most uncultured nature, an undefined longing and pining for
+the beautiful. It expresses itself sometimes in the love of birds and of
+flowers, and one sees the rosebush or the canary bird in a dwelling from
+which is banished every trace of luxury. But the little child, with its
+sweet, spiritual eyes, its thousand bird-like tones, its prattling,
+endearing ways, its guileless, loving heart, is a full and perfect
+answer to the most ardent craving of the soul. It is a whole little Eden
+of itself; and the poor woman whose whole life else is one dreary waste
+of toil, clasps her babe to her bosom, and feels proud, and rich, and
+happy. Truly said the Son of God, "Of such are the kingdom of heaven."</p>
+
+<p>Poor Mary! how glad she was to see her boy again&mdash;most of all, that they
+could talk together of their lost one! How they discoursed for hours
+about her! How they cried together over the little faded bonnet, that
+once could scarce be kept for a moment on the busy, curly head! How they
+treasured, as relics, the small finger marks on the doors, and
+consecrated with sacred care even the traces of her merry mischief about
+the cottage, and never tired of telling over to each other, with smiles
+and tears, the record of the past gleesome pranks!</p>
+
+<p>But the fact was, that Mary herself was fast wearing away. She had borne
+up bravely against life; but she had but a gentle nature, and gradually
+she sank from day to day. Fred was her patient, unwearied nurse, and
+neighbors&mdash;never wanting in such kindnesses as they can
+understand&mdash;supplied her few wants. The child never wanted for food, and
+the mantle shelf was filled with infallible specifics, each one of which
+was able, according to the showing, to insure perfect recovery in every
+case whatever; and yet, strange to tell, she still declined. At last,
+one still autumn morning, Fred awoke, and started at the icy coldness of
+the hand clasped in his own. He looked in his mother's face; it was
+sweet and calm as that of a sleeping infant, but he knew in his heart
+that she was dead.</p>
+
+
+<h3>PART II.</h3>
+
+<p>Months afterwards, a cold December day found Fred turned loose in the
+streets of Cincinnati. Since his mother's death he had driven on the
+canal boat; but now the boat was to lie by for winter, and the hands of
+course turned loose to find employment till spring. Fred was told that
+he must look up a place; every body was busy about their own affairs,
+and he must shift for himself; and so with half his wages in his pocket,
+and promises for the rest, he started to seek his fortune.</p>
+
+<p>It was a cold, cheerless, gray-eyed day, with an air that pinched
+fingers and toes, and seemed to penetrate one's clothes like snow
+water&mdash;such a day as it needs the brightest fire and the happiest heart
+to get along at all with; and, unluckily, Fred had neither. Christmas
+was approaching, and all the shops had put on their holiday dresses; the
+confectioners' windows were glittering with sparkling pyramids of candy,
+with frosted cake, and unfading fruits and flowers of the very best of
+sugar. There, too, was Santa Claus, large as life, with queer, wrinkled
+visage, and back bowed with the weight of all desirable knickknacks,
+going down chimney, in sight of all the children of Cincinnati, who
+gathered around the shop with constantly-renewed acclamations. On all
+sides might be seen the little people, thronging, gazing, chattering,
+while anxious papas and mammas in the shops were gravely discussing tin
+trumpets, dolls, spades, wheelbarrows, and toy wagons.</p>
+
+<p>Fred never had heard of the man who said, "How sad a thing it is to look
+into happiness through another man's eyes!" but he felt something very
+like it as he moved through the gay and bustling streets, where every
+body seemed to be finding what they wanted but himself.</p>
+
+<p>He had determined to keep up a stout heart; but in spite of himself, all
+this bustling show and merriment made him feel sadder and sadder, and
+lonelier and lonelier. He knocked and rang at door after door, but
+nobody wanted a boy: nobody ever does want a boy when a boy is wanting a
+place. He got tired of ringing door bells, and tried some of the shops.
+No, they didn't want him. One said if he was bigger he might do; another
+wanted to know if he could keep accounts; one thought that the man
+around the corner wanted a boy, and when Fred got there he had just
+engaged one. Weary, disappointed, and discouraged, he sat down by the
+iron railing that fenced a showy house, and thought what he should do.
+It was almost five in the afternoon: cold, dismal, leaden-gray was the
+sky&mdash;the darkness already coming on. Fred sat listlessly watching the
+great snow feathers, as they slowly sailed down from the sky. Now he
+heard gay laughs, as groups of merry children passed; and then he
+started, as he saw some woman in a black bonnet, and thought she looked
+like his mother. But all passed, and nobody looked at him, nobody wanted
+him, nobody noticed him.</p>
+
+<p>Just then a patter of little feet was heard behind him on the
+flagstones, and a soft, baby voice said, "How do 'oo do?" Fred turned in
+amazement; and there stood a plump, rosy little creature of about two
+years, with dimpled cheek, ruby lips, and long, fair hair curling about
+her sweet face. She was dressed in a blue pelisse, trimmed with swan's
+down, and her complexion was so exquisitely fair, her eyes so clear and
+sweet, that Fred felt almost as if it were an angel. The little thing
+toddled up to him, and holding up before him a new wax doll, all
+splendid in silk and lace, seemed quite disposed to make his
+acquaintance. Fred thought of his lost sister, and his eyes filled up
+with tears. The little one put up one dimpled hand to wipe them away,
+while with the other holding up before him the wax doll, she said,
+coaxingly, "No no ky."</p>
+
+<p>Just then the house door opened, and a lady, richly dressed, darted out,
+exclaiming, "Why, Mary, you little rogue, how came you out here?" Then
+stopping short, and looking narrowly on Fred, she said, somewhat
+sharply, "Whose boy are you? and how came you here?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm nobody's boy," said Fred, getting up, with a bitter choking in his
+throat; "my mother's dead; I only sat down here to rest me for a while."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, run away from here," said the lady; but the little girl pressed
+before her mother, and jabbering very earnestly in unimaginable English,
+seemed determined to give Fred her wax doll, in which, she evidently
+thought, resided every possible consolation.</p>
+
+<p>The lady felt in her pocket and found a quarter, which she threw towards
+Fred. "There, my boy, that will get you lodging and supper, and
+to-morrow you can find some place to work, I dare say;" and she hurried
+in with the little girl, and shut the door.</p>
+
+<p>It was not money that Fred wanted just then, and he picked up the
+quarter with a heavy heart. The sky looked darker, and the street
+drearier, and the cold wind froze the tear on his cheeks as he walked
+listlessly down the street in the dismal twilight.</p>
+
+<p>"I can go back to the canal boat, and find the cook," he thought to
+himself. "He told me I might sleep with him to-night if I couldn't find
+a place;" and he quickened his steps with this determination. Just as he
+was passing a brightly-lighted coffee house, familiar voices hailed him,
+and Fred stopped; he would be glad even to see a dog he had ever met
+before, and of course he was glad when two boys, old canal boat
+acquaintances, hailed him, and invited him into the coffee house. The
+blazing fire was a brave light on that dismal night, and the faces of
+the two boys were full of glee, and they began rallying Fred on his
+doleful appearance, and insisting on it that he should take something
+warm with them.</p>
+
+<p>Fred hesitated a moment; but he was tired and desperate, and the
+steaming, well-sweetened beverage was too tempting. "Who cares for me?"
+thought he, "and why should I care?" and down went the first spirituous
+liquor the boy had ever tasted; and in a few moments, he felt a
+wonderful change. He was no longer a timid, cold, disheartened,
+heart-sick boy, but felt somehow so brave, so full of hope and courage,
+that he began to swagger, to laugh very loud, and to boast in such high
+terms of the money in his pocket, and of his future intentions and
+prospects, that the two boys winked significantly at each other. They
+proposed, after sitting a while, to walk out and see the shop windows.
+All three of the boys had taken enough to put them to extra merriment;
+but Fred, who was entirely unused to the stimulant, was quite beside
+himself. If they sung, he shouted; if they laughed, he screamed; and he
+thought within himself he never had heard and thought so many witty
+things as on that very evening. At last they fell in with quite a press
+of boys, who were crowding round a confectionery window, and, as usual
+in such cases, there began an elbowing and scuffling contest for places,
+in which Fred was quite conspicuous. At last a big boy presumed on his
+superior size to edge in front of our hero, and cut off his prospect;
+and Fred, without more ado, sent him smashing through the shop window.
+There was a general scrabble, every one ran for himself, and Fred, never
+having been used to the business, was not very skilful in escaping, and
+of course was caught, and committed to an officer, who, with small
+ceremony, carried him off and locked him up in the watch house, from
+which he was the next morning taken before the mayor, and after
+examination sent to jail.</p>
+
+<p>This sobered Fred. He came to himself as out of a dream, and he was
+overwhelmed with an agony of shame and self-reproach. He had broken his
+promise to his dead mother&mdash;he had been drinking! and his heart failed
+him when he thought of the horrors that his mother had always associated
+with that word. And then he was in jail&mdash;that place that his mother had
+always represented as an almost impossible horror, the climax of shame
+and disgrace. The next night the poor boy stretched himself on his hard,
+lonely bed, and laid under his head his little bundle, containing his
+few clothes and his mother's Bible, and then sobbed himself to sleep.</p>
+
+<p>Cold and gray dawned the following morning on little Fred, as he slowly
+and heavily awoke, and with a bitter chill of despair recalled the
+events of the last two nights, and looked up at the iron-grated window,
+and round on the cheerless walls; and, as if in bitter contrast, arose
+before him an image of his lost home&mdash;the neat, quiet room, the white
+curtains and snowy floor, his mother's bed, with his own little cot
+beside it, and his mother's mild blue eyes, as they looked upon him only
+six months ago. Mechanically he untied the check handkerchief which
+contained his few clothes, and worldly possessions, and relics of home.</p>
+
+<p>There was the small, clean-printed Bible his mother had given him with
+so many tears on their first parting; there was a lock of her soft brown
+hair; there, too, were a pair of little worn shoes and stockings, a
+baby's rattle, and a curl of golden hair, which he had laid up in memory
+of his lost little pet. Fred laid his head down over all these, his
+forlorn treasures, and sobbed as if his heart would break.</p>
+
+<p>After a while the jailer came in, and really seemed affected by the
+distress of the child, and said what he could to console him; and in the
+course of the day, as the boy "seemed to be so lonesome like," he
+introduced another boy into the room as company for him. This was a
+cruel mercy; for while the child was alone with himself and the memories
+of the past, he was, if sad, at least safe, and in a few hours after
+this new introduction he was neither. His new companion was a tall boy
+of fourteen, with small, cunning, gray eyes, to which a slight cast gave
+an additional expression of shrewdness and drollery. He was a young
+gentleman of great natural talent,&mdash;in a certain line,&mdash;with very
+precocious attainments in all that kind of information which a boy gains
+by running at large for several years in a city's streets without any
+thing particular to do, or any body in particular to obey&mdash;any
+conscience, any principle, any fear either of God or man. We should not
+say that he had never seen the inside of a church, for he had been, for
+various purposes, into every one of the city, and to every camp meeting
+for miles around; and so much had he profited by these exercises, that
+he could mimic to perfection every minister who had any perceptible
+peculiarity, could caricature every species of psalm-singing, and give
+ludicrous imitations of every form of worship. Then he was <i>au fait</i> in
+all coffee house lore, and knew the names and qualities of every kind of
+beverage therein compounded; and as to smoking and chewing, the first
+elements of which he mastered when he was about six years old, he was
+now a <i>connoisseur</i> in the higher branches. He had been in jail dozens
+of times&mdash;rather liked the fun; had served one term on the
+chain-gang&mdash;not so bad either&mdash;shouldn't mind another&mdash;learned a good
+many prime things there.</p>
+
+<p>At first Fred seemed inclined to shrink from his new associate. An
+instinctive feeling, like the warning of an invisible angel, seemed to
+whisper, "Beware!" But he was alone, with a heart full of bitter
+thoughts, and the sight of a fellow-face was some comfort. Then his
+companion was so dashing, so funny, so free and easy, and seemed to make
+such a comfortable matter of being in jail, that Fred's heart, naturally
+buoyant, began to come up again in his breast. Dick Jones soon drew out
+of him his simple history as to how he came there, and finding that he
+was a raw hand, seemed to feel bound to patronize and take him under his
+wing. He laughed quite heartily at Fred's story, and soon succeeded in
+getting him to laugh at it too.</p>
+
+<p>How strange!&mdash;the very scenes that in the morning he looked at only with
+bitter anguish and remorse, this noon he was laughing at as good
+jokes&mdash;so much for the influence of good society! An instinctive
+feeling, soon after Dick Jones came in, led Fred to push his little
+bundle into the farthest corner, under the bed, far out of sight or
+inquiry; and the same reason led him to suppress all mention of his
+mother, and all the sacred part of his former life. He did this more
+studiously, because, having once accidentally remarked how his mother
+used to forbid him certain things, the well-educated Dick broke out,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Well, for my part, I could whip my mother when I wa'n't higher than
+<i>that</i>!" with a significant gesture.</p>
+
+<p>"Whip your mother!" exclaimed Fred, with a face full of horror.</p>
+
+<p>"To be sure, greenie! Why not? Precious fun it was in those times. I
+used to slip in and steal the old woman's whiskey and sugar when she was
+just too far over to walk a crack&mdash;she'd throw the tongs at me, and I'd
+throw the shovel at her, and so it went square and square."</p>
+
+<p>Goethe says somewhere, "Miserable is that man whose <i>mother</i> has not
+made all other mothers venerable." Our new acquaintance bade fair to
+come under this category.</p>
+
+<p>Fred's education, under this talented instructor, made progress. He sat
+hours and hours laughing at his stories&mdash;sometimes obscene, sometimes
+profane, but always so full of life, drollery, and mimicry that a more
+steady head than Fred's was needed to withstand the contagion. Dick had
+been to the theatre&mdash;knew it all like a book, and would take Fred there
+as soon as they got out; then he had a first-rate pack of cards, and he
+could teach Fred to play; and the gay tempters were soon spread out on
+their bed, and Fred and his instructor sat hour after hour absorbed in
+what to him was a new world of interest. He soon learned, could play for
+small stakes, and felt in himself the first glimmering of that fire
+which, when fully kindled, many waters cannot quench, nor floods drown!</p>
+
+<p>Dick was, as we said, precocious. He had the cool eye and steady hand of
+an experienced gamester, and in a few days he won, of course, all Fred's
+little earnings. But then he was quite liberal and free with his money.
+He added to their prison fare such various improvements as his abundance
+of money enabled him to buy. He had brought with him the foundation of
+good cheer in a capacious bottle which emerged the first night from his
+pocket, for he said he never went to jail without his provision; then
+hot water, and sugar, and lemons, and peppermint drops were all
+forthcoming for money, and Fred learned once and again, and again, the
+fatal secret of hushing conscience, and memory, and bitter despair in
+delirious happiness, and as Dick said, was "getting to be a right jolly
+'un that would make something yet."</p>
+
+<p>And was it all gone, all washed away by this sudden wave of evil?&mdash;every
+trace of prayer, and hope, and sacred memory in this poor child's heart?
+No, not all; for many a night, when his tempter slept by his side, the
+child lived over the past; again he kneeled in prayer, and felt his
+mother's guardian hand on his head, and he wept tears of bitter remorse,
+and wondered at the dread change that had come over him. Then he
+dreamed, and he saw his mother and sister walking in white, fair as
+angels, and would go to them; but between him and them was a great gulf
+fixed, which widened and widened, and grew darker and darker, till he
+could see them no more, and he awoke in utter misery and despair.</p>
+
+<p>Again and again he resolved, in the darkness of the night, that
+to-morrow he would not drink, and he would not speak a wicked word, and
+he would not play cards, nor laugh at Dick's bad stories. Ah, how many
+such midnight resolves have evil angels sneered at and good ones sighed
+over! for with daylight back comes the old temptation, and with it the
+old mind; and with daylight came back the inexorable prison walls which
+held Fred and his successful tempter together.</p>
+
+<p>At last he gave himself up. No, he could not be good with Dick&mdash;there
+was no use in trying!&mdash;and he made no more midnight resolves, and drank
+more freely of the dreadful remedy for unquiet thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>And now is Fred growing in truth a wicked boy. In a little while more
+and he shall be such a one as you will on no account take under your
+roof, lest he corrupt your own children; and yet, father, mother, look
+at your son of twelve years, your bright, darling boy, and think of him
+shut up for a month with such a companion, in such a cell, and ask
+yourselves if he would be any better.</p>
+
+<p>And was there no eye, heavenly or earthly, to look after this lost one?
+Was there no eye which could see through all the traces of sin, the yet
+lingering drops of that baptism and early prayer and watchfulness which
+consecrated it? Yes; He whose mercy extends to the third and fourth
+generations of those who love him, sent a friend to our poor boy in his
+last distress.</p>
+
+<p>It is one of the most refined and characteristic modifications of
+Christianity, that those who are themselves sheltered, guarded, fenced
+by good education, knowledge, and competence, appoint and sustain a
+pastor and guardian in our large cities to be the shepherd of the
+wandering and lost, and of them who, in the Scripture phrase, "have none
+to help." Justly is he called the "City Missionary," for what is more
+truly missionary ground? In the hospital, among the old, the sick, the
+friendless, the forlorn&mdash;in the prison, among the hardened, the
+blaspheming&mdash;among the discouraged and despairing, still holding with
+unsteady hand on to some forlorn fragment of virtue and self-respect,
+goes this missionary to stir the dying embers of good, to warn, entreat,
+implore, to adjure by sacred recollections of father, mother, and home,
+the fallen wanderers to return. He finds friends, and places, and
+employment for some, and by timely aid and encouragement saves many a
+one from destruction.</p>
+
+<p>In this friendly shape appeared a man of prayer to visit the cell in
+which Fred was confined. Dick listened to his instructions with cool
+complacency, rolling his tobacco from side to side in his mouth, and
+meditating on him as a subject for some future histrionic exercise of
+his talent.</p>
+
+<p>But his voice was as welcome to poor Fred as daylight in a dungeon. All
+the smothered remorse and despair of his heart burst forth in bitter
+confessions, as, with many tears, he poured forth his story to the
+friendly man. It needs not to prolong our story, for now the day has
+dawned and the hour of release is come.</p>
+
+<p>It is not needful to carry our readers through all the steps by which
+Fred was transferred, first to the fireside of the friendly missionary,
+and afterwards to the guardian care of a good old couple who resided on
+a thriving farm not far from Cincinnati. Set free from evil influences,
+the first carefully planted and watered seeds of good began to grow
+again, and he became as a son to the kind family who had adopted him.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_CANAL_BOAT" id="THE_CANAL_BOAT"></a>THE CANAL BOAT.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Of all the ways of travelling which obtain among our locomotive nation,
+this said vehicle, the canal boat, is the most absolutely prosaic and
+inglorious. There is something picturesque, nay, almost sublime, in the
+lordly march of your well-built, high-bred steamboat. Go, take your
+stand on some overhanging bluff, where the blue Ohio winds its thread of
+silver, or the sturdy Mississippi tears its path through unbroken
+forests, and it will do your heart good to see the gallant boat walking
+the waters with unbroken and powerful tread; and, like some fabled
+monster of the wave, breathing fire, and making the shores resound with
+its deep respirations. Then there is something mysterious, even awful,
+in the power of steam. See it curling up against a blue sky, some rosy
+morning&mdash;graceful, floating, intangible, and to all appearance the
+softest and gentlest of all spiritual things; and then think that it is
+this fairy spirit that keeps all the world alive and hot with motion;
+think how excellent a servant it is, doing all sorts of gigantic works,
+like the genii of old; and yet, if you let slip the talisman only for a
+moment, what terrible advantage it will take of you! and you will
+confess that steam has some claims both to the beautiful and the
+terrible. For our own part, when we are down among the machinery of a
+steamboat in full play, we conduct ourself very reverently, for we
+consider it as a very serious neighborhood; and every time the steam
+whizzes with such red-hot determination from the escape valve, we start
+as if some of the spirits were after us. But in a canal boat there is no
+power, no mystery, no danger; one cannot blow up, one cannot be drowned,
+unless by some special effort: one sees clearly all there is in the
+case&mdash;a horse, a rope, and a muddy strip of water&mdash;and that is all.</p>
+
+<p>Did you ever try it, reader? If not, take an imaginary trip with us,
+just for experiment. "There's the boat!" exclaims a passenger in the
+omnibus, as we are rolling down from the Pittsburg Mansion House to the
+canal. "Where?" exclaim a dozen of voices, and forthwith a dozen heads
+go out of the window. "Why, down there, under that bridge; don't you see
+those lights?" "What! that little thing?" exclaims an inexperienced
+traveller; "dear me! we can't half of us get into it!" "We! indeed,"
+says some old hand in the business; "I think you'll find it will hold us
+and a dozen more loads like us." "Impossible!" say some. "You'll see,"
+say the initiated; and, as soon as you get out, you <i>do</i> see, and hear
+too, what seems like a general breaking loose from the Tower of Babel,
+amid a perfect hail storm of trunks, boxes, valises, carpet bags, and
+every describable and indescribable form of what a westerner calls
+"plunder."</p>
+
+<p>"That's my trunk!" barks out a big, round man. "That's my bandbox!"
+screams a heart-stricken old lady, in terror for her immaculate Sunday
+caps. "Where's my little red box? I had two carpet bags and a&mdash;My trunk
+had a scarle&mdash;Halloo! where are you going with that portmanteau?
+Husband! husband! do see after the large basket and the little hair
+trunk&mdash;O, and the baby's little chair!" "Go below&mdash;go below, for mercy's
+sake, my dear; I'll see to the baggage." At last, the feminine part of
+creation, perceiving that, in this particular instance, they gain
+nothing by public speaking, are content to be led quietly under hatches;
+and amusing is the look of dismay which each new comer gives to the
+confined quarters that present themselves. Those who were so ignorant of
+the power of compression as to suppose the boat scarce large enough to
+contain them and theirs, find, with dismay, a respectable colony of old
+ladies, babies, mothers, big baskets, and carpet bags already
+established. "Mercy on us!" says one, after surveying the little room,
+about ten feet long and six high, "where are we all to sleep to-night?"
+"O me! what a sight of children!" says a young lady, in a despairing
+tone. "Poh!" says an initiated traveller; "children! scarce any here;
+let's see: one; the woman in the corner, two; that child with the bread
+and butter, three; and then there's that other woman with two. Really,
+it's quite moderate for a canal boat. However, we can't tell till they
+have all come."</p>
+
+<p>"All! for mercy's sake, you don't say there are any more coming!"
+exclaim two or three in a breath; "they <i>can't</i> come; <i>there is not
+room</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>Notwithstanding the impressive utterance of this sentence, the contrary
+is immediately demonstrated by the appearance of a very corpulent,
+elderly lady, with three well-grown daughters, who come down looking
+about them most complacently, entirely regardless of the unchristian
+looks of the company. What a mercy it is that fat people are always good
+natured!</p>
+
+<p>After this follows an indiscriminate raining down of all shapes, sizes,
+sexes, and ages&mdash;men, women, children, babies, and nurses. The state of
+feeling becomes perfectly desperate. Darkness gathers on all faces. "We
+shall be smothered! we shall be crowded to death! we <i>can't stay</i> here!"
+are heard faintly from one and another; and yet, though the boat grows
+no wider, the walls no higher, they do live, and do stay there, in spite
+of repeated protestations to the contrary. Truly, as Sam Slick says,
+"there's a <i>sight of wear</i> in human natur'."</p>
+
+<p>But, meanwhile, the children grow sleepy, and divers interesting little
+duets and trios arise from one part or another of the cabin.</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, Johnny! be a good boy," says a pale, nursing mamma, to a great,
+bristling, white-headed phenomenon, who is kicking very much at large in
+her lap.</p>
+
+<p>"I won't be a good boy, neither," responds Johnny, with interesting
+explicitness; "I want to go to bed, and so-o-o-o!" and Johnny makes up a
+mouth as big as a teacup, and roars with good courage, and his mamma
+asks him "if he ever saw pa do so," and tells him that "he is mamma's
+dear, good little boy, and must not make a noise," with various
+observations of the kind, which are so strikingly efficacious in such
+cases. Meanwhile, the domestic concert in other quarters proceeds with
+vigor. "Mamma, I'm tired!" bawls a child. "Where's the baby's night
+gown?" calls a nurse. "Do take Peter up in your lap, and keep him
+still." "Pray get out some biscuits to stop their mouths." Meanwhile,
+sundry babies strike in "con spirito," as the music books have it, and
+execute various flourishes; the disconsolate mothers sigh, and look as
+if all was over with them; and the young ladies appear extremely
+disgusted, and wonder "what business women have to be travelling round
+with babies."</p>
+
+<p>To these troubles succeeds the turning-out scene, when the whole caravan
+is ejected into the gentlemen's cabin, that the beds may be made. The
+red curtains are put down, and in solemn silence all, the last
+mysterious preparations begin. At length it is announced that all is
+ready. Forthwith the whole company rush back, and find the walls
+embellished by a series of little shelves, about a foot wide, each
+furnished with a mattress and bedding, and hooked to the ceiling by a
+very suspiciously slender cord. Direful are the ruminations and
+exclamations of inexperienced travellers, particularly young ones, as
+they eye these very equivocal accommodations. "What, sleep up there! <i>I</i>
+won't sleep on one of those top shelves, <i>I</i> know. The cords will
+certainly break." The chambermaid here takes up the conversation, and
+solemnly assures them that such an accident is not to be thought of at
+all; that it is a natural impossibility&mdash;a thing that could not happen
+without an actual miracle; and since it becomes increasingly evident
+that thirty ladies cannot all sleep on the lowest shelf, there is some
+effort made to exercise faith in this doctrine; nevertheless, all look
+on their neighbors with fear and trembling; and when the stout lady
+talks of taking a shelf, she is most urgently pressed to change places
+with her alarmed neighbor below. Points of location being after a while
+adjusted, comes the last struggle. Every body wants to take off a
+bonnet, or look for a shawl, to find a cloak, or get a carpet bag, and
+all set about it with such zeal that nothing can be done. "Ma'am, you're
+on my foot!" says one. "Will you please to move, ma'am?" says somebody,
+who is gasping and struggling behind you. "Move!" you echo. "Indeed, I
+should be very glad to, but I don't see much prospect of it."
+"Chambermaid!" calls a lady, who is struggling among a heap of carpet
+bags and children at one end of the cabin. "Ma'am!" echoes the poor
+chambermaid, who is wedged fast, in a similar situation, at the other.
+"Where's my cloak, chambermaid?" "I'd find it, ma'am, if I could move."
+"Chambermaid, my basket!" "Chambermaid, my parasol!" "Chambermaid, my
+carpet bag!" "Mamma, they push me so!" "Hush, child; crawl under there,
+and lie still till I can undress you." At last, however, the various
+distresses are over, the babies sink to sleep, and even that
+much-enduring being, the chambermaid, seeks out some corner for repose.
+Tired and drowsy, you are just sinking into a doze, when bang! goes the
+boat against the sides of a lock; ropes scrape, men run and shout, and
+up fly the heads of all the top shelfites, who are generally the more
+juvenile and airy part of the company.</p>
+
+<p>"What's that! what's that!" flies from mouth to mouth; and forthwith
+they proceed to awaken their respective relations. "Mother! Aunt Hannah!
+do wake up; what is this awful noise?" "O, only a lock!" "Pray be
+still," groan out the sleepy members from below.</p>
+
+<p>"A lock!" exclaim the vivacious creatures, ever on the alert for
+information; "and what <i>is</i> a lock, pray?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you know what a lock is, you silly creatures? Do lie down and go
+to sleep."</p>
+
+<p>"But say, there ain't any <i>danger</i> in a lock, is there?" respond the
+querists. "Danger!" exclaims a deaf old lady, poking up her head;
+"what's the matter? There hain't nothin' burst, has there?" "No, no,
+no!" exclaim the provoked and despairing opposition party, who find that
+there is no such thing as going to sleep till they have made the old
+lady below and the young ladies above understand exactly the philosophy
+of a lock. After a while the conversation again subsides; again all is
+still; you hear only the trampling of horses and the rippling of the
+rope in the water, and sleep again is stealing over you. You doze, you
+dream, and all of a sudden you are started by a cry, "Chambermaid! wake
+up the lady that wants to be set ashore." Up jumps chambermaid, and up
+jump the lady and two children, and forthwith form a committee of
+inquiry as to ways and means. "Where's my bonnet?" says the lady, half
+awake, and fumbling among the various articles of that name. "I thought
+I hung it up behind the door." "Can't you find it?" says poor
+chambermaid, yawning and rubbing her eyes. "O, yes, here it is," says
+the lady; and then the cloak, the shawl, the gloves, the shoes, receive
+each a separate discussion. At last all seems ready, and they begin to
+move off, when, lo! Peter's cap is missing. "Now, where can it be?"
+soliloquizes the lady. "I put it right here by the table leg; maybe it
+got into some of the berths." At this suggestion, the chambermaid takes
+the candle, and goes round deliberately to every berth, poking the light
+directly in the face of every sleeper. "Here it is," she exclaims,
+pulling at something black under one pillow. "No, indeed, those are my
+shoes," says the vexed sleeper. "Maybe it's here," she resumes, darting
+upon something dark in another berth. "No, that's my bag," responds the
+occupant. The chambermaid then proceeds to turn over all the children on
+the floor, to see if it is not under them. In the course of which
+process they are most agreeably waked up and enlivened; and when every
+body is broad awake, and most uncharitably wishing the cap, and Peter
+too, at the bottom of the canal, the good lady exclaims, "Well, if this
+isn't lucky; here I had it safe in my basket all the time!" And she
+departs amid the&mdash;what shall I say?&mdash;execrations?&mdash;of the whole company,
+ladies though they be.</p>
+
+<p>Well, after this follows a hushing up and wiping up among the juvenile
+population, and a series of remarks commences from the various shelves,
+of a very edifying and instructive tendency. One says that the woman did
+not seem to know where any thing was; another says that she has waked
+them all up; a third adds that she has waked up all the children, too;
+and the elderly ladies make moral reflections on the importance of
+putting your things where you can find them&mdash;being always ready; which
+observations, being delivered in an exceedingly doleful and drowsy tone,
+form a sort of sub-bass to the lively chattering of the upper shelfites,
+who declare that they feel quite wide awake,&mdash;that they don't think they
+shall go to sleep again to-night,&mdash;and discourse over every thing in
+creation, until you heartily wish you were enough related to them to
+give them a scolding.</p>
+
+<p>At last, however, voice after voice drops off; you fall into a most
+refreshing slumber; it seems to you that you sleep about a quarter of an
+hour, when the chambermaid pulls you by the sleeve. "Will you please to
+get up, ma'am? We want to make the beds." You start and stare. Sure
+enough, the night is gone. So much for sleeping on board canal boats.</p>
+
+<p>Let us not enumerate the manifold perplexities of the morning toilet in
+a place where every lady realizes most forcibly the condition of the old
+woman who lived under a broom: "All she wanted was elbow room." Let us
+not tell how one glass is made to answer for thirty fair faces, one ewer
+and vase for thirty lavations; and&mdash;tell it not in Gath!&mdash;one towel for
+a company! Let us not intimate how ladies' shoes have, in a night,
+clandestinely slid into the gentlemen's cabin, and gentlemen's boots
+elbowed, or, rather, <i>toed</i> their way among ladies' gear, nor recite the
+exclamations after runaway property that are heard. "I can't find
+nothin' of Johnny's shoe!" "Here's a shoe in the water pitcher&mdash;is this
+it?" "My side combs are gone!" exclaims a nymph with dishevelled curls.
+"Massy! do look at my bonnet!" exclaims an old lady, elevating an
+article crushed into as many angles as there are pieces in a minced pie.
+"I never did sleep <i>so much together</i> in my life," echoes a poor little
+French lady, whom despair has driven into talking English.</p>
+
+<p>But our shortening paper warns us not to prolong our catalogue of
+distresses beyond reasonable bounds, and therefore we will close with
+advising all our friends, who intend to try this way of travelling for
+<i>pleasure</i>, to take a good stock both of patience and clean towels with
+them, for we think that they will find abundant need for both.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="FEELING" id="FEELING"></a>FEELING.</h2>
+
+
+<p>There is one way of studying human nature, which surveys mankind only as
+a set of instruments for the accomplishment of personal plans. There is
+another, which regards them simply as a gallery of pictures, to be
+admired or laughed at as the caricature or the <i>beau ideal</i>
+predominates. A third way regards them as human beings, having hearts
+that can suffer and enjoy, that can be improved or be ruined; as those
+who are linked to us by mysterious reciprocal influences, by the common
+dangers of a present existence, and the uncertainties of a future one;
+as presenting, wherever we meet them, claims on our sympathy and
+assistance.</p>
+
+<p>Those who adopt the last method are interested in human beings, not so
+much by <i>present</i> attractions as by their capabilities as intelligent,
+immortal beings; by a high belief of what every mind may attain in an
+immortal existence; by anxieties for its temptations and dangers, and
+often by the perception of errors and faults which threaten its ruin.
+The first two modes are adopted by the great mass of society; the last
+is the office of those few scattered stars in the sky of life, who look
+down on its dark selfishness to remind us that there is a world of light
+and love.</p>
+
+<p>To this class did <i>He</i> belong, whose rising and setting on earth were
+for "the healing of the nations;" and to this class has belonged many a
+pure and devoted spirit, like him shining to cheer, like him fading away
+into the heavens. To this class many a one <i>wishes</i> to belong, who has
+an eye to distinguish the divinity of virtue, without the resolution to
+attain it; who, while they sweep along with the selfish current of
+society, still regret that society is not different&mdash;that they
+themselves are not different. If this train of thought has no very
+particular application to what follows, it was nevertheless suggested by
+it, and of its relevancy others must judge.</p>
+
+<p>Look into this school room. It is a warm, sleepy afternoon in July;
+there is scarcely air enough to stir the leaves of the tall buttonwood
+tree before the door, or to lift the loose leaves of the copy book in
+the window; the sun has been diligently shining into those curtainless
+west windows ever since three o'clock, upon those blotted and mangled
+desks, and those decrepit and tottering benches, and that great arm
+chair, the high place of authority.</p>
+
+<p>You can faintly hear, about the door, the "craw, craw," of some
+neighboring chickens, which have stepped around to consider the dinner
+baskets, and pick up the crumbs of the noon's repast. For a marvel, the
+busy school is still, because, in truth, it is too warm to stir. You
+will find nothing to disturb your meditation on character, for you
+cannot hear the beat of those little hearts, nor the bustle of all those
+busy thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>Now look around. Who of these is the most interesting? Is it that tall,
+slender, hazel-eyed boy, with a glance like a falcon, whose elbows rest
+on his book as he gazes out on the great buttonwood tree, and is
+calculating how he shall fix his squirrel trap when school is out? Or is
+it that curly-headed little rogue, who is shaking with repressed
+laughter at seeing a chicken roll over in a dinner basket? Or is it that
+arch boy with black eyelashes, and deep, mischievous dimple in his
+cheeks, who is slyly fixing a fish hook to the skirts of the master's
+coat, yet looking as abstracted as Archimedes whenever the good man
+turns his head that way? No; these are intelligent, bright, beautiful,
+but it is not these.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps, then, it is that sleepy little girl, with golden curls, and a
+mouth like a half-blown rosebud. See, the small brass thimble has fallen
+to the floor, her patchwork drops from her lap, her blue eyes close like
+two sleepy violets, her little head is nodding, and she sinks on her
+sister's shoulder: surely it is she. No, it is not.</p>
+
+<p>But look in that corner. Do you see that boy with such a gloomy
+countenance&mdash;so vacant, yet so ill natured? He is doing nothing, and he
+very seldom does any thing. He is surly and gloomy in his looks and
+actions. He never showed any more aptitude for saying or doing a pretty
+thing than his straight white hair does for curling. He is regularly
+blamed and punished every day, and the more he is blamed and punished,
+the worse he grows. None of the boys and girls in school will play with
+him; or, if they do, they will be sorry for it. And every day the master
+assures him that "he does not know what to do with him," and that he
+"makes him more trouble than any boy in school," with similar judicious
+information, that has a striking tendency to promote improvement. That
+is the boy to whom I apply the title of "the most interesting one."</p>
+
+<p>He is interesting because he is <i>not</i> pleasing; because he has bad
+habits; because he does wrong; because, under present influences, he is
+always likely to do wrong. He is interesting because he has become what
+he is now by means of the very temperament which often makes the noblest
+virtue. It is feeling, acuteness of feeling, which has given that
+countenance its expression, that character its moroseness.</p>
+
+<p>He has no father, and that long-suffering friend, his mother, is gone
+too. Yet he has relations, and kind ones too; and, in the compassionate
+language of worldly charity, it may be said of him, "He would have
+nothing of which to complain, if he would only behave himself."</p>
+
+<p>His little sister is always bright, always pleasant and cheerful; and
+his friends say, "Why should not he be so too? He is in exactly the same
+circumstances." No, he is not. In one circumstance they differ. He has a
+mind to feel and remember every thing that can pain; she can feel and
+remember but little. If you blame him, he is exasperated, gloomy, and
+cannot forget it. If you blame her, she can say she has done wrong in a
+moment, and all is forgotten. Her mind can no more be wounded than the
+little brook where she loves to play. The bright waters close again, and
+smile and prattle as merry as before.</p>
+
+<p>Which is the most desirable temperament? It would be hard to say. The
+power of feeling is necessary for all that is noble in man, and yet it
+involves the greatest risks. They who catch at happiness on the bright
+surface of things, secure a portion, such as it is, with more certainty;
+those who dive for it in the waters of deeper feeling, if they succeed,
+will bring up pearls and diamonds, but if they sink they are lost
+forever!</p>
+
+<p>But now comes Saturday, and school is just out. Can any one of my
+readers remember the rapturous prospect of a long, bright Saturday
+afternoon? "Where are you going?" "Will you come and see me?" "We are
+going a fishing!" "Let us go a strawberrying!" may be heard rising from
+the happy group. But no one comes near the ill-humored James, and the
+little party going to visit his sister "wish James was out of the way."
+He sees every motion, hears every whisper, knows, suspects, feels it
+all, and turns to go home more sullen and ill tempered than common. The
+world looks dark&mdash;nobody loves him&mdash;and he is told that it is "all his
+own fault," and that makes the matter still worse.</p>
+
+<p>When the little party arrive, he is suspicious and irritable, and, of
+course, soon excommunicated. Then, as he stands in disconsolate anger,
+looking over the garden fence at the gay group making dandelion chains,
+and playing baby house under the trees, he wonders why he is not like
+other children. He wishes he were different, and yet he does not know
+what to do. He looks around, and every thing is blooming and bright. His
+little bed of flowers is even brighter and sweeter than ever before, and
+a new rose is just opening on his rosebush.</p>
+
+<p>There goes pussy, too, racing and scampering, with little Ellen after
+her, in among the alleys and flowers; and the birds are singing in the
+trees; and the soft winds brush the blossoms of the sweet pea against
+his cheek; and yet, though all nature looks on him so kindly, he is
+wretched.</p>
+
+<p>Let us now change the scene. Why is that crowded assembly so
+attentive&mdash;so silent? Who is speaking? It is our old friend, the little
+disconsolate schoolboy. But his eyes are flashing with intellect, his
+face fervent with emotion, his voice breathes like music, and every mind
+is enchained.</p>
+
+<p>Again, it is a splendid sunset, and yonder enthusiast meets it face to
+face, as a friend. He is silent&mdash;rapt&mdash;happy. He feels the poetry which
+God has written; he is touched by it, as God meant that the feeling
+spirit should be touched.</p>
+
+<p>Again, he is watching by the bed of sickness, and it is blessed to have
+such a watcher! anticipating every want; relieving, not in a cold,
+uninterested way, but with the quick perceptions, the tenderness, the
+gentleness of an angel.</p>
+
+<p>Follow him into the circle of friendship, and why is he so loved and
+trusted? Why can you so easily tell to him what you can say to no one
+else besides? Why is it that all around him feel that he can understand,
+appreciate, be touched by all that touches them?</p>
+
+<p>And when heaven uncloses its doors of light, when all its knowledge, its
+purity, its bliss, rises on the eye and passes into the soul, who then
+will be looked on as the one who might be envied&mdash;he who <i>can</i>, or he
+who <i>cannot feel</i>?</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_SEAMSTRESS" id="THE_SEAMSTRESS"></a>THE SEAMSTRESS.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Few, save the poor, feel for the poor;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The rich know not how hard<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is to be of needful food<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And needful rest debarred.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Their paths are paths of plenteousness;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">They sleep on silk and down;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They never think how wearily<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The weary head lies down.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They never by the window sit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And see the gay pass by,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet take their weary work again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And with a mournful eye."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">L. E. L.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p>However fine and elevated, in a sentimental point of view, may have been
+the poetry of this gifted writer, we think we have never seen any thing
+from this source that <i>ought</i> to give a better opinion of her than the
+little ballad from which the above verses are taken.</p>
+
+<p>They show that the accomplished authoress possessed, not merely a
+knowledge of the dreamy ideal wants of human beings, but the more
+pressing and homely ones, which the fastidious and poetical are often
+the last to appreciate. The sufferings of poverty are not confined to
+those of the common, squalid, every day inured to hardships, and ready,
+with open hand, to receive charity, let it come to them as it will.
+There is another class on whom it presses with still heavier power&mdash;the
+generous, the decent, the self-respecting, who have struggled with their
+lot in silence, "bearing all things, hoping all things," and willing to
+endure all things, rather than breathe a word of complaint, or to
+acknowledge, even to themselves, that their own efforts will not be
+sufficient for their own necessities.</p>
+
+<p>Pause with me a while at the door of yonder room, whose small window
+overlooks a little court below. It is inhabited by a widow and her
+daughter, dependent entirely on the labors of the needle, and those
+other slight and precarious resources, which are all that remain to
+woman when left to struggle her way through the world alone. It contains
+all their small earthly store, and there is scarce an article of its
+little stock of furniture that has not been thought of, and toiled for,
+and its price calculated over and over again, before every thing could
+be made right for its purchase. Every article is arranged with the
+utmost neatness and care; nor is the most costly furniture of a
+fashionable parlor more sedulously guarded from a scratch or a rub, than
+is that brightly-varnished bureau, and that neat cherry tea table and
+bedstead. The floor, too, boasted once a carpet; but old Time has been
+busy with it, picking a hole here, and making a thin place there; and
+though the old fellow has been followed up by the most indefatigable
+zeal in darning, the marks of his mischievous fingers are too plain to
+be mistaken. It is true, a kindly neighbor has given a bit of faded
+baize, which has been neatly clipped and bound, and spread down over an
+entirely unmanageable hole in front of the fireplace; and other places
+have been repaired with pieces of different colors; and yet, after all,
+it is evident that the poor carpet is not long for this world.</p>
+
+<p>But the best face is put upon every thing. The little cupboard in the
+corner, that contains a few china cups, and one or two antiquated silver
+spoons, relics of better days, is arranged with jealous neatness, and
+the white muslin window curtain, albeit the muslin be old, has been
+carefully whitened and starched, and smoothly ironed, and put up with
+exact precision; and on the bureau, covered by a snowy cloth, are
+arranged a few books and other memorials of former times, and a faded
+miniature, which, though it have little about it to interest a stranger,
+is more precious to the poor widow than every thing besides.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Ames is seated in her rocking chair, supported by a pillow, and
+busy cutting out work, while her daughter, a slender, sickly-looking
+girl, is sitting by the window, intent on some fine stitching.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Ames, in former days, was the wife of a respectable merchant, and
+the mother of an affectionate family. But evil fortune had followed her
+with a steadiness that seemed like the stern decree of some adverse fate
+rather than the ordinary dealings of a merciful Providence. First came a
+heavy run of losses in business; then long and expensive sickness in the
+family, and the death of children. Then there was the selling of the
+large house and elegant furniture, to retire to a humbler style of
+living; and finally, the sale of all the property, with the view of
+quitting the shores of a native land, and commencing life again in a new
+one. But scarcely had the exiled family found themselves in the port of
+a foreign land, when the father was suddenly smitten down by the hand of
+death, and his lonely grave made in a land of strangers. The widow,
+broken-hearted and discouraged, had still a wearisome journey before her
+ere she could reach any whom she could consider as her friends. With her
+two daughters, entirely unattended, and with her finances impoverished
+by detention and sickness, she performed the tedious journey.</p>
+
+<p>Arrived at the place of her destination, she found herself not only
+without immediate resources, but considerably in debt to one who had
+advanced money for her travelling expenses. With silent endurance she
+met the necessities of her situation. Her daughters, delicately reared,
+and hitherto carefully educated, were placed out to service, and Mrs.
+Ames sought for employment as a nurse. The younger child fell sick, and
+the hard earnings of the mother were all exhausted in the care of her;
+and though she recovered in part, she was declared by her physician to
+be the victim of a disease which would never leave her till it
+terminated her life.</p>
+
+<p>As soon, however, as her daughter was so far restored as not to need her
+immediate care, Mrs. Ames resumed her laborious employment. Scarcely had
+she been able, in this way, to discharge the debts for her journey and
+to furnish the small room we have described, when the hand of disease
+was laid heavily on herself. Too resolute and persevering to give way to
+the first attacks of pain and weakness, she still continued her
+fatiguing employment till her system was entirely prostrated. Thus all
+possibility of pursuing her business was cut off, and nothing remained
+but what could be accomplished by her own and her daughter's dexterity
+at the needle. It is at this time we ask you to look in upon the mother
+and daughter.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Ames is sitting up, the first time for a week, and even to-day she
+is scarcely fit to do so; but she remembers that the month is coming
+round, and her rent will soon be due; and in her feebleness she will
+stretch every nerve to meet her engagements with punctilious exactness.</p>
+
+<p>Wearied at length with cutting out, and measuring, and drawing threads,
+she leans back in her chair, and her eye rests on the pale face of her
+daughter, who has been sitting for two hours intent on her stitching.</p>
+
+<p>"Ellen, my child, your head aches; don't work so steadily."</p>
+
+<p>"O, no, it don't ache <i>much</i>," said she, too conscious of looking very
+much tired. Poor girl! had she remained in the situation in which she
+was born, she would now have been skipping about, and enjoying life as
+other young girls of fifteen do; but now there is no choice of
+employments for her&mdash;no youthful companions&mdash;no visiting&mdash;no pleasant
+walks in the fresh air. Evening and morning, it is all the same;
+headache or sideache, it is all one. She must hold on the same unvarying
+task&mdash;a wearisome thing for a girl of fifteen.</p>
+
+<p>But see! the door opens, and Mrs. Ames's face brightens as her other
+daughter enters. Mary has become a domestic in a neighboring family,
+where her faithfulness and kindness of heart have caused her to be
+regarded more as a daughter and a sister than as a servant. "Here,
+mother, is your rent money," she exclaimed; "so do put up your work and
+rest a while. I can get enough to pay it next time before the month
+comes around again."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear child, I do wish you would ever think to get any thing for
+yourself," said Mrs. Ames. "I cannot consent to use up all your
+earnings, as I have done lately, and all Ellen's too; you must have a
+new dress this spring, and that bonnet of yours is not decent any
+longer."</p>
+
+<p>"O, no, mother! I have made over my blue calico, and you would be
+surprised to see how well it looks; and my best frock, when it is washed
+and darned, will answer some time longer. And then Mrs. Grant has given
+me a ribbon, and when my bonnet is whitened and trimmed it will look
+very well. And so," she added, "I brought you some wine this afternoon;
+you know the doctor says you need wine."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear child, I want to see you take some comfort of your money
+yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I do take comfort of it, mother. It is more comfort to be able to
+help you than to wear all the finest dresses in the world."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Two months from this dialogue found our little family still more
+straitened and perplexed. Mrs. Ames had been confined all the time with
+sickness, and the greater part of Ellen's time and strength was occupied
+with attending to her.</p>
+
+<p>Very little sewing could the poor girl now do, in the broken intervals
+that remained to her; and the wages of Mary were not only used as fast
+as earned, but she anticipated two months in advance.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Ames had been better for a day or two, and had been sitting up,
+exerting all her strength to finish a set of shirts which had been sent
+in to make. "The money for them will just pay our rent," sighed she;
+"and if we can do a little more this week&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Dear mother, you are so tired," said Ellen; "do lie down, and not worry
+any more till I come back."</p>
+
+<p>Ellen went out, and passed on till she came to the door of an elegant
+house, whose damask and muslin window curtains indicated a fashionable
+residence.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Elmore was sitting in her splendidly-furnished parlor, and around
+her lay various fancy articles which two young girls were busily
+unrolling. "What a lovely pink scarf!" said one, throwing it over her
+shoulders and skipping before a mirror; while the other exclaimed, "Do
+look at these pocket handkerchiefs, mother! what elegant lace!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, girls," said Mrs. Elmore, "these handkerchiefs are a shameful
+piece of extravagance. I wonder you will insist on having such things."</p>
+
+<p>"La, mamma, every body has such now; Laura Seymour has half a dozen that
+cost more than these, and her father is no richer than ours."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Mrs. Elmore, "rich or not rich, it seems to make very
+little odds; we do not seem to have half as much money to spare as we
+did when we lived in the little house in Spring Street. What with new
+furnishing the house, and getting every thing you boys and girls say you
+must have, we are poorer, if any thing, than we were then."</p>
+
+<p>"Ma'am, here is Mrs. Ames's girl come with some sewing," said the
+servant.</p>
+
+<p>"Show her in," said Mrs. Elmore.</p>
+
+<p>Ellen entered timidly, and handed her bundle of work to Mrs. Elmore, who
+forthwith proceeded to a minute scrutiny of the articles; for she prided
+herself on being very particular as to her sewing. But, though the work
+had been executed by feeble hands and aching eyes, even Mrs. Elmore
+could detect no fault in it.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it is very prettily done," said she. "What does your mother
+charge?"</p>
+
+<p>Ellen handed a neatly-folded bill which she had drawn for her mother. "I
+must say, I think your mother's prices are very high," said Mrs. Elmore,
+examining her nearly empty purse; "every thing is getting so dear that
+one hardly knows how to live." Ellen looked at the fancy articles, and
+glanced around the room with an air of innocent astonishment. "Ah," said
+Mrs. Elmore, "I dare say it seems to you as if persons in our situation
+had no need of economy; but, for my part, I feel the need of it more and
+more every day." As she spoke she handed Ellen the three dollars, which,
+though it was not a quarter the price of one of the handkerchiefs, was
+all that she and her sick mother could claim in the world.</p>
+
+<p>"There," said she; "tell your mother I like her work very much, but I do
+not think I can afford to employ her, if I can find any one to work
+cheaper."</p>
+
+<p>Now, Mrs. Elmore was not a hard-hearted woman, and if Ellen had come as
+a beggar to solicit help for her sick mother, Mrs. Elmore would have
+fitted out a basket of provisions, and sent a bottle of wine, and a
+bundle of old clothes, and all the <i>et cetera</i> of such occasions; but
+the sight of <i>a bill</i> always aroused all the instinctive sharpness of
+her business-like education. She never had the dawning of an idea that
+it was her duty to pay any body any more than she could possibly help;
+nay, she had an indistinct notion that it was her <i>duty</i> as an economist
+to make every body take as little as possible. When she and her
+daughters lived in Spring Street, to which she had alluded, they used to
+spend the greater part of their time at home, and the family sewing was
+commonly done among themselves. But since they had moved into a large
+house, and set up a carriage, and addressed themselves to being genteel,
+the girls found that they had altogether too much to do to attend to
+their own sewing, much less to perform any for their father and
+brothers. And their mother found her hands abundantly full in
+overlooking her large house, in taking care of expensive furniture, and
+in superintending her increased train of servants. The sewing,
+therefore, was put out; and Mrs. Elmore <i>felt it a duty</i> to get it done
+the cheapest way she could. Nevertheless, Mrs. Elmore was too notable a
+lady, and her sons and daughters were altogether too fastidious as to
+the make and quality of their clothing, to admit the idea of its being
+done in any but the most complete and perfect manner.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Elmore never accused herself of want of charity for the poor; but
+she had never considered that the best class of the poor are those who
+never ask charity. She did not consider that, by paying liberally those
+who were honestly and independently struggling for themselves, she was
+really doing a greater charity than by giving indiscriminately to a
+dozen applicants.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you think, mother, she says we charge too high for this work!"
+said Ellen, when she returned. "I am sure she did not know how much work
+we put in those shirts. She says she cannot give us any more work; she
+must look out for somebody that will do it cheaper. I do not see how it
+is that people who live in such houses, and have so many beautiful
+things, can feel that they cannot afford to pay for what costs us so
+much."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, child, they are more apt to feel so than people who live
+plainer."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I am sure," said Ellen, "we cannot afford to spend so much time
+as we have over these shirts for less money."</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind, my dear," said the mother, soothingly; "here is a bundle of
+work that another lady has sent in, and if we get it done, we shall have
+enough for our rent, and something over to buy bread with."</p>
+
+<p>It is needless to carry our readers over all the process of cutting, and
+fitting, and gathering, and stitching, necessary in making up six fine
+shirts. Suffice it to say that on Saturday evening all but one were
+finished, and Ellen proceeded to carry them home, promising to bring the
+remaining one on Tuesday morning. The lady examined the work, and gave
+Ellen the money; but on Tuesday, when the child came with the remaining
+work, she found her in great ill humor. Upon reëxamining the shirts, she
+had discovered that in some important respects they differed from
+directions she meant to have given, and supposed she had given; and,
+accordingly, she vented her displeasure on Ellen.</p>
+
+<p>"Why didn't you make these shirts as I told you?" said she, sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"We did," said Ellen, mildly; "mother measured by the pattern every
+part, and cut them herself."</p>
+
+<p>"Your mother must be a fool, then, to make such a piece of work. I wish
+you would just take them back and alter them over;" and the lady
+proceeded with the directions, of which neither Ellen nor her mother
+till then had had any intimation. Unused to such language, the
+frightened Ellen took up her work and slowly walked homeward.</p>
+
+<p>"O, dear, how my head does ache!" thought she to herself; "and poor
+mother! she said this morning she was afraid another of her sick turns
+was coming on, and we have all this work to pull out and do over."</p>
+
+<p>"See here, mother," said she, with a disconsolate air, as she entered
+the room; "Mrs. Rudd says, take out all the bosoms, and rip off all the
+collars, and fix them quite another way. She says they are not like the
+pattern she sent; but she must have forgotten, for here it is. Look,
+mother; it is exactly as we made them."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, my child, carry back the pattern, and show her that it is so."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, mother, she spoke so cross to me, and looked at me so, that I
+do not feel as if I could go back."</p>
+
+<p>"I will go for you, then," said the kind Maria Stephens, who had been
+sitting with Mrs. Ames while Ellen was out. "I will take the pattern and
+shirts, and tell her the exact truth about it. I am not afraid of her."
+Maria Stephens was a tailoress, who rented a room on the same floor with
+Mrs. Ames, a cheerful, resolute, go-forward little body, and ready
+always to give a helping hand to a neighbor in trouble. So she took the
+pattern and shirts, and set out on her mission.</p>
+
+<p>But poor Mrs. Ames, though she professed to take a right view of the
+matter, and was very earnest in showing Ellen why she ought not to
+distress herself about it, still felt a shivering sense of the hardness
+and unkindness of the world coming over her. The bitter tears would
+spring to her eyes, in spite of every effort to suppress them, as she
+sat mournfully gazing on the little faded miniature before mentioned.
+"When <i>he</i> was alive, I never knew what poverty or trouble was," was the
+thought that often passed through her mind. And how many a poor forlorn
+one has thought the same!</p>
+
+<p>Poor Mrs. Ames was confined to her bed for most of that week. The doctor
+gave absolute directions that she should do nothing, and keep entirely
+quiet&mdash;a direction very sensible indeed in the chamber of ease and
+competence, but hard to be observed in poverty and want.</p>
+
+<p>What pains the kind and dutiful Ellen took that week to make her mother
+feel easy! How often she replied to her anxious questions, "that she was
+quite well," or "that her head did not ache <i>much</i>!" and by various
+other evasive expedients the child tried to persuade herself that she
+was speaking the truth. And during the times her mother slept, in the
+day or evening, she accomplished one or two pieces of plain work, with
+the price of which she expected to surprise her mother.</p>
+
+<p>It was towards evening when Ellen took her finished work to the elegant
+dwelling of Mrs. Page. "I shall get a dollar for this," said she;
+"enough to pay for mother's wine and medicine."</p>
+
+<p>"This work is done very neatly," said Mrs. Page, "and here is some more
+I should like to have finished in the same way."</p>
+
+<p>Ellen looked up wistfully, hoping Mrs. Page was going to pay her for the
+last work. But Mrs. Page was only searching a drawer for a pattern,
+which she put into Ellen's hands, and after explaining how she wanted
+her work done, dismissed her without saying a word about the expected
+dollar.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Ellen tried two or three times, as she was going out, to turn round
+and ask for it; but before she could decide what to say, she found
+herself in the street.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Page was an amiable, kind-hearted woman, but one who was so used to
+large sums of money that she did not realize how great an affair a
+single dollar might seem to other persons. For this reason, when Ellen
+had worked incessantly at the new work put into her hands, that she
+might get the money for all together, she again disappointed her in the
+payment.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll send the money round to-morrow," said she, when Ellen at last
+found courage to ask for it. But to-morrow came, and Ellen was
+forgotten; and it was not till after one or two applications more that
+the small sum was paid.</p>
+
+<p>But these sketches are already long enough, and let us hasten to close
+them. Mrs. Ames found liberal friends, who could appreciate and honor
+her integrity of principle and loveliness of character, and by their
+assistance she was raised to see more prosperous days; and she, and the
+delicate Ellen, and warm-hearted Mary were enabled to have a home and
+fireside of their own, and to enjoy something like the return of their
+former prosperity.</p>
+
+<p>We have given these sketches, drawn from real life, because we think
+there is in general too little consideration on the part of those who
+give employment to those in situations like the widow here described.
+The giving of employment is a very important branch of charity, inasmuch
+as it assists that class of the poor who are the most deserving. It
+should be looked on in this light, and the arrangements of a family be
+so made that a suitable compensation can be given, and prompt and
+cheerful payment be made, without the dread of transgressing the rules
+of economy.</p>
+
+<p>It is better to teach our daughters to do without expensive ornaments or
+fashionable elegances; better even to deny ourselves the pleasure of
+large donations or direct subscriptions to public charities, rather than
+to curtail the small stipend of her whose "candle goeth not out by
+night," and who labors with her needle for herself and the helpless dear
+ones dependent on her exertions.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="OLD_FATHER_MORRIS" id="OLD_FATHER_MORRIS"></a>OLD FATHER MORRIS.</h2>
+
+<h3>A SKETCH FROM NATURE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Of all the marvels that astonished my childhood, there is none I
+remember to this day with so much interest as the old man whose name
+forms my caption. When I knew him, he was an aged clergyman, settled
+over an obscure village in New England. He had enjoyed the advantages of
+a liberal education, had a strong, original power of thought, an
+omnipotent imagination, and much general information; but so early and
+so deeply had the habits and associations of the plough, the farm, and
+country life wrought themselves into his mind, that his after
+acquirements could only mingle with them, forming an unexampled amalgam
+like unto nothing but itself.</p>
+
+<p>He was an ingrain New Englander, and whatever might have been the source
+of his information, it came out in Yankee form, with the strong
+provinciality of Yankee dialect.</p>
+
+<p>It is in vain to attempt to give a full picture of such a genuine
+<i>unique</i>; but some slight and imperfect dashes may help the imagination
+to a faint idea of what none can fully conceive but those who have seen
+and heard old Father Morris.</p>
+
+<p>Suppose yourself one of half a dozen children, and you hear the cry,
+"Father Morris is coming!" You run to the window or door, and you see a
+tall, bulky old man, with a pair of saddle bags on one arm, hitching his
+old horse with a fumbling carefulness, and then deliberately stumping
+towards the house. You notice his tranquil, florid, full-moon face,
+enlightened by a pair of great round blue eyes, that roll with dreamy
+inattentiveness on all the objects around; and as he takes off his hat,
+you see the white curling wig that sets off his round head. He comes
+towards you, and as you stand staring, with all the children around, he
+deliberately puts his great hand on your head, and, with deep, rumbling
+voice, inquires,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"How d'ye do, my darter? is your daddy at home?" "My darter" usually
+makes off as fast as possible, in an unconquerable giggle. Father Morris
+goes into the house, and we watch him at every turn, as, with the most
+liberal simplicity, he makes himself at home, takes off his wig, wipes
+down his great face with a checked pocket handkerchief, helps himself
+hither and thither to whatever he wants, and asks for such things as he
+cannot lay his hands on, with all the comfortable easiness of childhood.</p>
+
+<p>I remember to this day how we used to peep through the crack of the
+door, or hold it half ajar and peer in, to watch his motions; and how
+mightily diverted we were with his deep, slow manner of speaking, his
+heavy, cumbrous walk, but, above all, with the wonderful faculty of
+"<i>hemming</i>" which he possessed.</p>
+
+<p>His deep, thundering, protracted "A-hem-em" was like nothing else that
+ever I heard; and when once, as he was in the midst of one of these
+performances, the parlor door suddenly happened to swing open, I heard
+one of my roguish brothers calling, in a suppressed tone, "Charles!
+Charles! Father Morris has <i>hemmed</i> the door open!"&mdash;and then followed
+the signs of a long and desperate titter, in which I sincerely
+sympathized.</p>
+
+<p>But the morrow is Sunday. The old man rises in the pulpit. He is not now
+in his own humble little parish, preaching simply to the hoers of corn
+and planters of potatoes, but there sits Governor D., and there is Judge
+R., and Counsellor P., and Judge G. In short, he is before a refined and
+literary audience. But Father Morris rises; he thinks nothing of this;
+he cares nothing; he knows nothing, as he himself would say, but "Jesus
+Christ, and him crucified." He takes a passage of Scripture to explain;
+perhaps it is the walk to Emmaus, and the conversation of Jesus with his
+disciples. Immediately the whole start out before you, living and
+picturesque: the road to Emmaus is a New England turnpike; you can see
+its mile stones, its mullein stalks, its toll gates. Next the disciples
+rise, and you have before you all their anguish, and hesitation, and
+dismay talked out to you in the language of your own fireside. You
+smile; you are amused; yet you are touched, and the illusion grows every
+moment. You see the approaching stranger, and the mysterious
+conversation grows more and more interesting. Emmaus rises in the
+distance, in the likeness of a New England village, with a white meeting
+house and spire. You follow the travellers; you enter the house with
+them; nor do you wake from your trance until, with streaming eyes, the
+preacher tells you that "they saw it was the Lord Jesus&mdash;and <i>what a
+pity</i> it was they could not have known it before!"</p>
+
+<p>It was after a sermon on this very chapter of Scripture history that
+Governor Griswold, in passing out of the house, laid hold on the sleeve
+of his first acquaintance: "Pray tell me," said he, "who is this
+minister?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, it is old Father Morris."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, he is an oddity&mdash;and a genius too, I declare!" he continued. "I
+have been wondering all the morning how I could have read the Bible to
+so little purpose as not to see all these particulars he has presented."</p>
+
+<p>I once heard him narrate in this picturesque way the story of Lazarus.
+The great bustling city of Jerusalem first rises to view, and you are
+told, with great simplicity, how the Lord Jesus "used to get tired of
+the noise;" and how he was "tired of preaching, again and again, to
+people who would not mind a word he said;" and how, "when it came
+evening, he used to go out and see his friends in Bethany." Then he told
+about the house of Martha and Mary: "a little white house among the
+trees," he said; "you could just see it from Jerusalem." And there the
+Lord Jesus and his disciples used to go and sit in the evenings, with
+Martha, and Mary, and Lazarus.</p>
+
+<p>Then the narrator went on to tell how Lazarus died, describing, with
+tears and a choking voice, the distress they were in, and how they sent
+a message to the Lord Jesus, and he did not come, and how they wondered
+and wondered; and thus on he went, winding up the interest by the
+graphic <i>minutiæ</i> of an eye witness, till he woke you from the dream by
+his triumphant joy at the resurrection scene.</p>
+
+<p>On another occasion, as he was sitting at a tea table, unusually
+supplied with cakes and sweetmeats, he found an opportunity to make a
+practical allusion to the same family story. He said that Mary was quiet
+and humble, sitting at her Savior's feet to hear his words; but Martha
+thought more of what was to be got for tea. Martha could not find time
+to listen to Christ. No; she was "'cumbered with much serving'&mdash;around
+the house, frying fritters and making gingerbread."</p>
+
+<p>Among his own simple people, his style of Scripture painting was
+listened to with breathless interest. But it was particularly in those
+rustic circles, called "conference meetings," that his whole warm soul
+unfolded, and the Bible in his hands became a gallery of New England
+paintings.</p>
+
+<p>He particularly loved the evangelists, following the footsteps of Jesus
+Christ, dwelling upon his words, repeating over and over again the
+stories of what he did, with all the fond veneration of an old and
+favored servant.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes, too, he would give the narration an exceedingly practical
+turn, as one example will illustrate.</p>
+
+<p>He had noticed a falling off in his little circle that met for social
+prayer, and took occasion, the first time he collected a tolerable
+audience, to tell concerning "the conference meeting that the disciples
+attended" after the resurrection.</p>
+
+<p>"But Thomas was not with them." "Thomas not with them!" said the old
+man, in a sorrowful voice. "Why, what could keep Thomas away? Perhaps,"
+said he, glancing at some of his backward auditors, "Thomas had got
+cold-hearted, and was afraid they would ask him to make the first
+prayer; or perhaps," said he, looking at some of the farmers, "Thomas
+was afraid the roads were bad; or perhaps," he added, after a pause,
+"Thomas had got proud, and thought he could not come in his old
+clothes." Thus he went on, significantly summing up the common excuses
+of his people; and then, with great simplicity and emotion, he added,
+"But only think what Thomas lost! for in the middle of the meeting, the
+Lord Jesus came and stood among them! How sorry Thomas must have been!"
+This representation served to fill the vacant seats for some time to
+come.</p>
+
+<p>At another time Father Morris gave the details of the anointing of David
+to be king. He told them how Samuel went to Bethlehem, to Jesse's house,
+and went in with a "How d'ye do, Jesse?" and how, when Jesse asked him
+to take a chair, he said he could not stay a minute; that the Lord had
+sent him to anoint one of his sons for a king; and how, when Jesse
+called in the tallest and handsomest, Samuel said "he would not do;" and
+how all the rest passed the same test; and at last, how Samuel says,
+"Why, have not you any more sons, Jesse?" and Jesse says, "Why, yes,
+there is little David down in the lot;" and how, as soon as ever Samuel
+saw David, "he slashed the oil right on to him;" and how Jesse said "he
+never was so beat in all his life."</p>
+
+<p>Father Morris sometimes used his illustrative talent to very good
+purpose in the way of rebuke. He had on his farm a fine orchard of
+peaches, from which some of the ten and twelve-year-old gentlemen helped
+themselves more liberally than even the old man's kindness thought
+expedient.</p>
+
+<p>Accordingly, he took occasion to introduce into his sermon one Sunday,
+in his little parish, an account of a journey he took; and how he was
+"very warm and very dry;" and how he saw a fine orchard of peaches that
+made his mouth water to look at them. "So," says he, "I came up to the
+fence and looked all around, for I would not have touched one of them
+<i>without leave</i> for all the world. At last I spied a man, and says I,
+'Mister, won't you give me some of your peaches?' So the man came and
+gave me nigh about a hat full. And while I stood there eating, I said,
+'Mister, how do you manage to keep your peaches?' 'Keep them!' said he,
+and he stared at me; 'what do you mean?' 'Yes, sir,' said I; 'don't the
+boys steal them?' 'Boys steal them!' said he. 'No, indeed!' 'Why, sir,'
+said I, 'I have a whole lot full of peaches, and I cannot get half of
+them'"&mdash;here the old man's voice grew tremulous&mdash;"'because the boys in
+my parish steal them so.' 'Why, sir,' said he, 'don't their parents
+teach them not to steal?' And I grew all over in a cold sweat, and I
+told him 'I was afeard they didn't.' 'Why, how you talk!' says the man;
+'do tell me where you live?' Then," said Father Morris, the tears
+running over, "I was obliged to tell him I lived in the town of G."
+After this Father Morris kept his peaches.</p>
+
+<p>Our old friend was not less original in the logical than in the
+illustrative portions of his discourses. His logic was of that familiar,
+colloquial kind which shakes hands with common sense like an old friend.
+Sometimes, too, his great mind and great heart would be poured out on
+the vast themes of religion, in language which, though homely, produced
+all the effects of the sublime. He once preached a discourse on the
+text, "the High and Holy One that inhabiteth eternity;" and from the
+beginning to the end it was a train of lofty and solemn thought. With
+his usual simple earnestness, and his great, rolling voice, he told
+about "the Great God&mdash;the Great Jehovah&mdash;and how the people in this
+world were flustering and worrying, and afraid they should not get time
+to do this, and that, and t'other. But," he added, with full-hearted
+satisfaction, "the Lord is never in a hurry; he has it all to do, but he
+has time enough, for he inhabiteth eternity." And the grand idea of
+infinite leisure and almighty resources was carried through the sermon
+with equal strength and simplicity.</p>
+
+<p>Although the old man never seemed to be sensible of any thing tending to
+the ludicrous in his own mode of expressing himself, yet he had
+considerable relish for humor, and some shrewdness of repartee. One
+time, as he was walking through a neighboring parish, famous for its
+profanity, he was stopped by a whole flock of the youthful reprobates of
+the place:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Father Morris, Father Morris! the devil's dead!"</p>
+
+<p>"Is he?" said the old man, benignly laying his hand on the head of the
+nearest urchin; "you poor fatherless children!"</p>
+
+<p>But the sayings and doings of this good old man, as reported in the
+legends of the neighborhood, are more than can be gathered or reported.
+He lived far beyond the common age of man, and continued, when age had
+impaired his powers, to tell over and over again the same Bible stories
+that he had told so often before.</p>
+
+<p>I recollect hearing of the joy that almost broke the old man's heart,
+when, after many years' diligent watching and nurture of the good seed
+in his parish, it began to spring into vegetation, sudden and beautiful
+as that which answers the patient watching of the husbandman. Many a
+hard, worldly-hearted man&mdash;many a sleepy, inattentive hearer&mdash;many a
+listless, idle young person, began to give ear to words that had long
+fallen unheeded. A neighboring minister, who had been sent for to see
+and rejoice in these results, describes the scene, when, on entering the
+little church, he found an anxious, crowded auditory assembled around
+their venerable teacher, waiting for direction and instruction. The old
+man was sitting in his pulpit, almost choking with fulness of emotion as
+he gazed around. "Father," said the youthful minister, "I suppose you
+are ready to say with old Simeon, 'Now, Lord, lettest thou thy servant
+depart in peace, for my eyes have seen thy salvation.'" "<i>Sartin,
+sartin</i>," said the old man, while the tears streamed down his cheeks,
+and his whole frame shook with emotion.</p>
+
+<p>It was not many years after that this simple and loving servant of
+Christ was gathered in peace unto Him whom he loved. His name is fast
+passing from remembrance, and in a few years, his memory, like his
+humble grave, will be entirely grown over and forgotten among men,
+though it will be had in everlasting remembrance by Him who "forgetteth
+not his servants," and in whose sight the death of his saints is
+precious.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_TWO_ALTARS" id="THE_TWO_ALTARS"></a>THE TWO ALTARS,</h2>
+
+<h3>OR TWO PICTURES IN ONE.</h3>
+
+
+<h3>I. THE ALTAR OF LIBERTY, OR 1776.</h3>
+
+<p>The wellsweep of the old house on the hill was relieved, dark and clear,
+against the reddening sky, as the early winter sun was going down in the
+west. It was a brisk, clear, metallic evening; the long drifts of snow
+blushed crimson red on their tops, and lay in shades of purple and lilac
+in the hollows; and the old wintry wind brushed shrewdly along the
+plain, tingling people's noses, blowing open their cloaks, puffing in
+the back of their necks, and showing other unmistakable indications that
+he was getting up steam for a real roistering night.</p>
+
+<p>"Hurrah! How it blows!" said little Dick Ward, from the top of the mossy
+wood pile.</p>
+
+<p>Now Dick had been sent to said wood pile, in company with his little
+sister Grace, to pick up chips, which, every body knows, was in the
+olden time considered a wholesome and gracious employment, and the
+peculiar duty of the rising generation. But said Dick, being a boy, had
+mounted the wood pile, and erected there a flagstaff, on which he was
+busily tying a little red pocket handkerchief, occasionally exhorting
+Grace "to be sure and pick up fast."</p>
+
+<p>"O, yes, I will," said Grace; "but you see the chips have got ice on
+'em, and make my hands so cold!"</p>
+
+<p>"O, don't stop to suck your thumbs! Who cares for ice? Pick away, I say,
+while I set up the flag of liberty."</p>
+
+<p>So Grace picked away as fast as she could, nothing doubting but that her
+cold thumbs were in some mysterious sense an offering on the shrine of
+liberty; while soon the red handkerchief, duly secured, fluttered and
+snapped in the brisk evening wind.</p>
+
+<p>"Now you must hurrah, Gracie, and throw up your bonnet," said Dick, as
+he descended from the pile.</p>
+
+<p>"But won't it lodge down in some place in the wood pile?" suggested
+Grace, thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"O, never fear; give it to me, and just holler now, Gracie, 'Hurrah for
+liberty;' and we'll throw up your bonnet and my cap; and we'll play, you
+know, that we are a whole army, and I'm General Washington."</p>
+
+<p>So Grace gave up her little red hood, and Dick swung his cap, and up
+they both went into the air; and the children shouted, and the flag
+snapped and fluttered, and altogether they had a merry time of it. But
+then the wind&mdash;good for nothing, roguish fellow!&mdash;made an ungenerous
+plunge at poor Grace's little hood, and snipped it up in a twinkling,
+and whisked it off, off, off,&mdash;fluttering and bobbing up and down, quite
+across a wide, waste, snowy field, and finally lodged it on the top of a
+tall, strutting rail, that was leaning, very independently, quite
+another way from all the other rails of the fence.</p>
+
+<p>"Now see, do see!" said Grace; "there goes my bonnet! What will Aunt
+Hitty say?" and Grace began to cry.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you cry, Gracie; you offered it up to liberty, you know: it's
+glorious to give up every thing for liberty."</p>
+
+<p>"O, but Aunt Hitty won't think so."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, don't cry, Gracie, you foolish girl! Do you think I can't get it?
+Now, only play that that great rail is a fort, and your bonnet is a
+prisoner in it, and see how quick I'll take the fort and get it!" and
+Dick shouldered a stick and started off.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>"What upon <i>airth</i> keeps those children so long? I should think they
+were <i>making</i> chips!" said Aunt Mehetabel; "the fire's just a going out
+under the tea kettle."</p>
+
+<p>By this time Grace had lugged her heavy basket to the door, and was
+stamping the snow off her little feet, which were so numb that she
+needed to stamp, to be quite sure they were yet there. Aunt Mehetabel's
+shrewd face was the first that greeted her as the door opened.</p>
+
+<p>"Gracie&mdash;what upon <i>airth</i>!&mdash;wipe your nose, child; your hands are
+frozen. Where alive is Dick?&mdash;and what's kept you out all this
+time?&mdash;and where's your bonnet?"</p>
+
+<p>Poor Grace, stunned by this cataract of questions, neither wiped her
+nose nor gave any answer, but sidled up into the warm corner, where
+grandmamma was knitting, and began quietly rubbing and blowing her
+fingers, while the tears silently rolled down her cheeks, as the fire
+made the former ache intolerably.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor little dear!" said grandmamma, taking her hands in hers; "Hitty
+shan't scold you. Grandma knows you've been a good girl&mdash;the wind blew
+poor Gracie's bonnet away;" and grandmamma wiped both eyes and nose, and
+gave her, moreover, a stalk of dried fennel out of her pocket; whereat
+Grace took heart once more.</p>
+
+<p>"Mother always makes fools of Roxy's children," said Mehetabel, puffing
+zealously under the tea kettle. "There's a little maple sugar in that
+saucer up there, mother, if you will keep giving it to her," she said,
+still vigorously puffing. "And now, Gracie," she said, when, after a
+while, the fire seemed in tolerable order, "will you answer my question?
+Where is Dick?"</p>
+
+<p>"Gone over in the lot, to get my bonnet."</p>
+
+<p>"How came your bonnet off?" said Aunt Mehetabel. "I tied it on firm
+enough."</p>
+
+<p>"Dick wanted me to take it off for him, to throw up for liberty," said
+Grace.</p>
+
+<p>"Throw up for fiddlestick! Just one of Dick's cut-ups; and you was silly
+enough to mind him!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, he put up a flagstaff on the wood pile, and a flag to liberty, you
+know, that papa's fighting for," said Grace, more confidently, as she
+saw her quiet, blue-eyed mother, who had silently walked into the room
+during the conversation.</p>
+
+<p>Grace's mother smiled and said, encouragingly, "And what then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, he wanted me to throw up my bonnet and he his cap, and shout for
+liberty; and then the wind took it and carried it off, and he said I
+ought not to be sorry if I did lose it&mdash;it was an offering to liberty."</p>
+
+<p>"And so I did," said Dick, who was standing as straight as a poplar
+behind the group; "and I heard it in one of father's letters to mother,
+that we ought to offer up every thing on the altar of liberty&mdash;and so I
+made an altar of the wood pile."</p>
+
+<p>"Good boy!" said his mother; "always remember every thing your father
+writes. He has offered up every thing on the altar of liberty, true
+enough; and I hope you, son, will live to do the same."</p>
+
+<p>"Only, if I have the hoods and caps to make," said Aunt Hitty, "I hope
+he won't offer them up every week&mdash;that's all!"</p>
+
+<p>"O! well, Aunt Hitty, I've got the hood; let me alone for that. It blew
+clear over into the Daddy Ward pasture lot, and there stuck on the top
+of the great rail; and I played that the rail was a fort, and besieged
+it, and took it."</p>
+
+<p>"O, yes! you're always up to taking forts, and any thing else that
+nobody wants done. I'll warrant, now, you left Gracie to pick up every
+blessed one of them chips."</p>
+
+<p>"Picking up chips is girl's work," said Dick; "and taking forts and
+defending the country is men's work."</p>
+
+<p>"And pray, Mister Pomp, how long have you been a man?" said Aunt Hitty.</p>
+
+<p>"If I ain't a man, I soon shall be; my head is 'most up to my mother's
+shoulder, and I can fire off a gun, too. I tried, the other day, when I
+was up to the store. Mother, I wish you'd let me clean and load the old
+gun, so that, if the British should come&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if you are so big and grand, just lift me out that table, sir,"
+said Aunt Hitty; "for it's past supper time."</p>
+
+<p>Dick sprang, and had the table out in a trice, with an abundant clatter,
+and put up the leaves with quite an air. His mother, with the silent and
+gliding motion characteristic of her, quietly took out the table cloth
+and spread it, and began to set the cups and saucers in order, and to
+put on the plates and knives, while Aunt Hitty bustled about the tea.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be glad when the war's over, for one reason," said she. "I'm
+pretty much tired of drinking sage tea, for one, I know."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Aunt Hitty, how you scolded that pedler last week, that brought
+along that real tea!"</p>
+
+<p>"To be sure I did. S'pose I'd be taking any of his old tea, bought of
+the British?&mdash;fling every teacup in his face first."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, mother," said Dick, "I never exactly understood what it was about
+the tea, and why the Boston folks threw it all overboard."</p>
+
+<p>"Because there was an unlawful tax laid upon it, that the government had
+no right to lay. It wasn't much in itself; but it was a part of a whole
+system of oppressive meanness, designed to take away our rights, and
+make us slaves of a foreign power."</p>
+
+<p>"Slaves!" said Dick, straightening himself proudly. "Father a slave!"</p>
+
+<p>"But they would not be slaves! They saw clearly where it would all end,
+and they would not begin to submit to it in ever so little," said the
+mother.</p>
+
+<p>"I wouldn't, if I was they," said Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"Besides," said his mother, drawing him towards her, "it wasn't for
+themselves alone they did it. This is a great country, and it will be
+greater and greater; and it's very important that it should have free
+and equal laws, because it will by and by be so great. This country, if
+it is a free one, will be a light of the world&mdash;a city set on a hill,
+that cannot be hid; and all the oppressed and distressed from other
+countries shall come here to enjoy equal rights and freedom. This, dear
+boy, is why your father and uncles have gone to fight, and why they do
+stay and fight, though God knows what they suffer, and&mdash;&mdash;" and the
+large blue eyes of the mother were full of tears; yet a strong, bright
+beam of pride and exultation shone through those tears.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well, Roxy, you can always talk, every body knows," said Aunt
+Hitty, who had been not the least attentive listener of this little
+patriotic harangue; "but, you see, the tea is getting cold, and yonder I
+see the sleigh is at the door, and John's come; so let's set up our
+chairs for supper."</p>
+
+<p>The chairs were soon set up, when John, the eldest son, a lad of about
+fifteen, entered with a letter. There was one general exclamation, and
+stretching out of hands towards it. John threw it into his mother's lap;
+the tea table was forgotten, and the tea kettle sang unnoticed by the
+fire, as all hands crowded about mother's chair to hear the news. It was
+from Captain Ward, then in the American army, at Valley Forge. Mrs. Ward
+ran it over hastily, and then read it aloud. A few words we may extract.</p>
+
+<p>"There is still," it said, "much suffering. I have given away every pair
+of stockings you sent me, reserving to myself only one; for I will not
+be one whit better off than the poorest soldier that fights for his
+country. Poor fellows! it makes my heart ache sometimes to go round
+among them, and see them with their worn clothes and torn shoes, and
+often bleeding feet, yet cheerful and hopeful, and every one willing to
+do his very best. Often the spirit of discouragement comes over them,
+particularly at night, when, weary, cold, and hungry, they turn into
+their comfortless huts, on the snowy ground. Then sometimes there is a
+thought of home, and warm fires, and some speak of giving up; but next
+morning out come Washington's general orders&mdash;little short note, but
+it's wonderful the good it does! and then they all resolve to hold on,
+come what may. There are commissioners going all through the country to
+pick up supplies. If they come to you, I need not tell you what to do. I
+know all that will be in your hearts."</p>
+
+<p>"There, children, see what your father suffers," said the mother, "and
+what it costs these poor soldiers to gain our liberty."</p>
+
+<p>"Ephraim Scranton told me that the commissioners had come as far as the
+Three Mile Tavern, and that he rather 'spected they'd be along here
+to-night," said John, as he was helping round the baked beans to the
+silent company at the tea table.</p>
+
+<p>"To-night?&mdash;do tell, now!" said Aunt Hitty. "Then it's time we were
+awake and stirring. Let's see what can be got."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll send my new overcoat, for one," said John. "That old one isn't cut
+up yet, is it, Aunt Hitty?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Aunt Hitty; "I was laying out to cut it over next Wednesday,
+when Desire Smith could be here to do the tailoring.</p>
+
+<p>"There's the south room," said Aunt Hitty, musing; "that bed has the two
+old Aunt Ward blankets on it, and the great blue quilt, and two
+comforters. Then mother's and my room, two pair&mdash;four comforters&mdash;two
+quilts&mdash;the best chamber has got&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"O Aunt Hitty, send all that's in the best chamber! If any company
+comes, we can make it up off from our beds," said John. "I can send a
+blanket or two off from my bed, I know;&mdash;can't but just turn over in it,
+so many clothes on, now."</p>
+
+<p>"Aunt Hitty, take a blanket off from our bed," said Grace and Dick at
+once.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well, we'll see," said Aunt Hitty, bustling up.</p>
+
+<p>Up rose grandmamma, with, great earnestness, now, and going into the
+next room, and opening a large cedar wood chest, returned, bearing in
+her arms two large snow white blankets, which she deposited flat on the
+table, just as Aunt Hitty was whisking off the table cloth.</p>
+
+<p>"Mortal! mother, what are you going to do?" said Aunt Hitty.</p>
+
+<p>"There," she said; "I spun those, every thread of 'em, when my name was
+Mary Evans. Those were my wedding blankets, made of real nice wool, and
+worked with roses in all the corners. I've got <i>them</i> to give!" and
+grandmamma stroked and smoothed the blankets, and patted them down, with
+great pride and tenderness. It was evident she was giving something that
+lay very near her heart; but she never faltered.</p>
+
+<p>"La! mother, there's no need of that," said Aunt Hitty. "Use them on
+your own bed, and send the blankets off from that; they are just as good
+for the soldiers."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I shan't!" said the old lady, waxing warm; "'tisn't a bit too good
+for 'em. I'll send the very best I've got, before they shall suffer.
+Send 'em the <i>best</i>!" and the old lady gestured oratorically.</p>
+
+<p>They were interrupted by a rap at the door, and two men entered, and
+announced themselves as commissioned by Congress to search out supplies
+for the army. Now the plot thickens. Aunt Hitty flew in every
+direction,&mdash;through entry passage, meal room, milk room, down cellar, up
+chamber,&mdash;her cap border on end with patriotic zeal; and followed by
+John, Dick, and Grace, who eagerly bore to the kitchen the supplies that
+she turned out, while Mrs. Ward busied herself in quietly sorting and
+arranging, in the best possible travelling order, the various
+contributions that were precipitately launched on the kitchen floor.</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Hitty soon appeared in the kitchen with an armful of stockings,
+which, kneeling on the floor, she began counting and laying out.</p>
+
+<p>"There," she said, laying down a large bundle on some blankets, "that
+leaves just two pair apiece all round."</p>
+
+<p>"La!" said John, "what's the use of saving two pair for me? I can do
+with one pair, as well as father."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure enough," said his mother; "besides, I can knit you another pair in
+a day."</p>
+
+<p>"And I can do with one pair," said Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"Yours will be too small, young master, I guess," said one of the
+commissioners.</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Dick; "I've got a pretty good foot of my own, and Aunt Hitty
+will always knit my stockings an inch too long, 'cause she says I grow
+so. See here&mdash;these will do;" and the boy shook his, triumphantly.</p>
+
+<p>"And mine, too," said Grace, nothing doubting, having been busy all the
+time in pulling off her little stockings.</p>
+
+<p>"Here," she said to the man who was packing the things into a
+wide-mouthed sack; "here's mine," and her large blue eyes looked
+earnestly through her tears.</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Hitty flew at her. "Good land! the child's crazy. Don't think the
+men could wear your stockings&mdash;take 'em away!"</p>
+
+<p>Grace looked around with an air of utter desolation, and began to cry.
+"I wanted to give them something," said she. "I'd rather go barefoot on
+the snow all day than not send 'em any thing."</p>
+
+<p>"Give me the stockings, my child," said the old soldier, tenderly.
+"There, I'll take 'em, and show 'em to the soldiers, and tell them what
+the little girl said that sent them. And it will do them as much good as
+if they could wear them. They've got little girls at home, too." Grace
+fell on her mother's bosom completely happy, and Aunt Hitty only
+muttered,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Every body does spile that child; and no wonder, neither!"</p>
+
+<p>Soon the old sleigh drove off from the brown house, tightly packed and
+heavily loaded. And Grace and Dick were creeping up to their little
+beds.</p>
+
+<p>"There's been something put on the altar of Liberty to-night, hasn't
+there, Dick?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed," said Dick; and, looking up to his mother, he said, "But,
+mother, what did you give?"</p>
+
+<p>"I?" said the mother, musingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you, mother; what have you given to the country?"</p>
+
+<p>"All that I have, dears," said she, laying her hands gently on their
+heads&mdash;"my husband and my children!"</p>
+
+
+<h3>II. THE ALTAR OF &mdash;&mdash;, OR 1850.</h3>
+
+<p>The setting sun of chill December lighted up the solitary front window
+of a small tenement on &mdash;&mdash; Street, in Boston, which we now have
+occasion to visit. As we push gently aside the open door, we gain sight
+of a small room, clean as busy hands can make it, where a neat, cheerful
+young mulatto woman is busy at an ironing table. A basket full of
+glossy-bosomed shirts, and faultless collars and wristbands, is beside
+her, into which she is placing the last few items with evident pride and
+satisfaction. A bright black-eyed boy, just come in from school, with
+his satchel of books over his shoulder, stands, cap in hand, relating to
+his mother how he has been at the head of his class, and showing his
+school tickets, which his mother, with untiring admiration, deposits in
+the little real china tea pot&mdash;which, as being their most reliable
+article of gentility, is made the deposit of all the money and most
+especial valuables of the family.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Henry," says the mother, "look out and see if father is coming
+along the street;" and she begins filling the little black tea kettle,
+which is soon set singing on the stove.</p>
+
+<p>From the inner room now daughter Mary, a well-grown girl of thirteen,
+brings the baby, just roused from a nap, and very impatient to renew his
+acquaintance with his mamma.</p>
+
+<p>"Bless his bright eyes!&mdash;mother will take him," ejaculates the busy
+little woman, whose hands are by this time in a very floury condition,
+in the incipient stages of wetting up biscuit,&mdash;"in a minute;" and she
+quickly frees herself from the flour and paste, and, deputing Mary to
+roll out her biscuit, proceeds to the consolation and succor of young
+master.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Henry," says the mother, "you'll have time, before supper, to take
+that basket of clothes up to Mr. Sheldin's; put in that nice bill, that
+you made out last night. I shall give you a cent for every bill you
+write out for me. What a comfort it is, now, for one's children to be
+gettin' learnin' so!"</p>
+
+<p>Henry shouldered the basket, and passed out the door, just as a
+neatly-dressed colored man walked up, with his pail and whitewash
+brushes.</p>
+
+<p>"O, you've come, father, have you? Mary, are the biscuits in? You may as
+well set the table, now. Well, George, what's the news?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing, only a pretty smart day's work. I've brought home five
+dollars, and shall have as much as I can do, these two weeks;" and the
+man, having washed his hands, proceeded to count out his change on the
+ironing table.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it takes you to bring in the money," said the delighted wife;
+"nobody but you could turn off that much in a day."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, they do say&mdash;those that's had me once&mdash;that they never want any
+other hand to take hold in their rooms. I s'pose its a kinder practice
+I've got, and kinder natural!"</p>
+
+<p>"Tell ye what," said the little woman, taking down the family strong
+box,&mdash;to wit, the china tea pot, aforenamed,&mdash;and pouring the contents
+on the table, "we're getting mighty rich, now! We can afford to get
+Henry his new Sunday cap, and Mary her mousseline-de-laine dress&mdash;take
+care, baby, you rogue!" she hastily interposed, as young master made a
+dive at a dollar bill, for his share in the proceeds.</p>
+
+<p>"He wants something, too, I suppose," said the father; "let him get his
+hand in while he's young."</p>
+
+<p>The baby gazed, with round, astonished eyes, while mother, with some
+difficulty, rescued the bill from his grasp; but, before any one could
+at all anticipate his purpose, he dashed in among the small change with
+such zeal as to send it flying all over the table.</p>
+
+<p>"Hurrah! Bob's a smasher!" said the father, delighted; "he'll make it
+fly, he thinks;" and, taking the baby on his knee, he laughed merrily,
+as Mary and her mother pursued the rolling coin all over the room.</p>
+
+<p>"He knows now, as well as can be, that he's been doing mischief," said
+the delighted mother, as the baby kicked and crowed uproariously: "he's
+such a forward child, now, to be only six months old! O, you've no idea,
+father, how mischievous he grows;" and therewith the little woman began
+to roll and tumble the little mischief maker about, uttering divers
+frightful threats, which appeared to contribute, in no small degree, to
+the general hilarity.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, come, Mary," said the mother, at last, with a sudden burst of
+recollection; "you mustn't be always on your knees fooling with this
+child! Look in the oven at them biscuits."</p>
+
+<p>"They're done exactly, mother&mdash;just the brown!" and, with the word, the
+mother dumped baby on to his father's knee, where he sat contentedly
+munching a very ancient crust of bread, occasionally improving the
+flavor thereof by rubbing it on his father's coat sleeve.</p>
+
+<p>"What have you got in that blue dish, there?" said George, when the
+whole little circle were seated around the table.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, now, what <i>do</i> you suppose?" said the little woman, delighted: "a
+quart of nice oysters&mdash;just for a treat, you know. I wouldn't tell you
+till this minute," said she, raising the cover.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said George, "we both work hard for our money, and we don't owe
+any body a cent; and why shouldn't we have our treats, now and then, as
+well as rich folks?"</p>
+
+<p>And gayly passed the supper hour; the tea kettle sung, the baby crowed,
+and all chatted and laughed abundantly.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you," said George, wiping his mouth; "wife, these times are
+quite another thing from what it used to be down in Georgia. I remember
+then old mas'r used to hire me out by the year; and one time, I
+remember, I came and paid him in two hundred dollars&mdash;every cent I'd
+taken. He just looked it over, counted it, and put it in his pocket
+book, and said, 'You are a good boy, George'&mdash;and he gave me <i>half a
+dollar</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"I want to know, now!" said his wife.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he did, and that was every cent I ever got of it; and, I tell you,
+I was mighty bad off for clothes, them times."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well, the Lord be praised, they're over, and you are in a free
+country now!" said the wife, as she rose thoughtfully from the table,
+and brought her husband the great Bible. The little circle were ranged
+around the stove for evening prayers.</p>
+
+<p>"Henry, my boy, you must read&mdash;you are a better reader than your
+father&mdash;thank God, that let you learn early!"</p>
+
+<p>The boy, with a cheerful readiness, read, "The Lord is my Shepherd," and
+the mother gently stilled the noisy baby, to listen to the holy words.
+Then all kneeled, while the father, with simple earnestness, poured out
+his soul to God.</p>
+
+<p>They had but just risen&mdash;the words of Christian hope and trust scarce
+died on their lips&mdash;when, lo! the door was burst open, and two men
+entered; and one of them, advancing, laid his hand on the father's
+shoulder. "This is the fellow," said he.</p>
+
+<p>"You are arrested in the name of the United States!" said the other.</p>
+
+<p>"Gentlemen, what is this?" said the poor man, trembling.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you not the property of <i>Mr. B.</i>, of Georgia?" said the officer.</p>
+
+<p>"Gentlemen, I've been a free, hard-working man these ten years."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; but you are arrested, on suit of Mr. B., as his slave."</p>
+
+<p>Shall we describe the leave taking&mdash;the sorrowing wife, the dismayed
+children, the tears, the anguish, that simple, honest, kindly home, in a
+moment so desolated? Ah, ye who defend this because it is law, think,
+for one hour, what if this that happens to your poor brother should
+happen to you!</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>It was a crowded court room, and the man stood there to be tried&mdash;for
+life?&mdash;no; but for the life of life&mdash;for liberty!</p>
+
+<p>Lawyers hurried to and fro, buzzing, consulting, bringing
+authorities,&mdash;all anxious, zealous, engaged,&mdash;for what? To save a
+fellow-man from bondage? No; anxious and zealous lest he might escape;
+full of zeal to deliver him over to slavery. The poor man's anxious eyes
+follow vainly the busy course of affairs, from which he dimly learns
+that he is to be sacrificed&mdash;on the altar of the Union; and that his
+heart-break and anguish, and the tears of his wife, and the desolation
+of his children are, in the eyes of these well-informed men, only the
+bleat of a sacrifice, bound to the horns of the glorious American altar!</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Again it is a bright day, and business walks brisk in this market.
+Senator and statesman, the learned and patriotic, are out, this day, to
+give their countenance to an edifying, and impressive, and truly
+American spectacle&mdash;the sale of a man! All the preliminaries of the
+scene are there; dusky-browed mothers, looking with sad eyes while
+speculators are turning round their children, looking at their teeth,
+and feeling of their arms; a poor, old, trembling woman, helpless, half
+blind, whose last child is to be sold, holds on to her bright boy with
+trembling hands. Husbands and wives, sisters and friends, all soon to be
+scattered like the chaff of the threshing floor, look sadly on each
+other with poor nature's last tears; and among them walk briskly, glib,
+oily politicians, and thriving men of law, letters, and religion,
+exceedingly sprightly, and in good spirits&mdash;for why?&mdash;it isn't <i>they</i>
+that are going to be sold; it's only somebody else. And so they are very
+comfortable, and look on the whole thing as quite a matter-of-course
+affair, and, as it is to be conducted to-day, a decidedly valuable and
+judicious exhibition.</p>
+
+<p>And now, after so many hearts and souls have been knocked and thumped
+this way and that way by the auctioneer's hammer, comes the
+<i>instructive</i> part of the whole; and the husband and father, whom we saw
+in his simple home, reading and praying with his children, and rejoicing
+in the joy of his poor ignorant heart that he lived in a free country,
+is now set up to be admonished of his mistake.</p>
+
+<p>Now there is great excitement, and pressing to see, and exultation and
+approbation; for it is important and interesting to see a man put down
+that has tried to be a <i>free man</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"That's he, is it? Couldn't come it, could he?" says one.</p>
+
+<p>"No; and he will never come it, that's more," says another,
+triumphantly.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't generally take much interest in scenes of this nature," says a
+grave representative; "but I came here to-day for the sake of the
+<i>principle</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"Gentlemen," says the auctioneer, "we've got a specimen here that some
+of your northern abolitionists would give any price for; but they shan't
+have him! no! we've looked out for that. The man that buys him must give
+bonds never to sell him to go north again!"</p>
+
+<p>"Go it!" shout the crowd; "good! good! hurrah!" "An impressive idea!"
+says a senator; "a noble maintaining of principle!" and the man is bid
+off, and the hammer falls with a last crash on his heart, his hopes, his
+manhood, and he lies a bleeding wreck on the altar of Liberty!</p>
+
+<p>Such was the altar in 1776; such is the altar in 1850!</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="A_SCHOLARS_ADVENTURES_IN_THE_COUNTRY" id="A_SCHOLARS_ADVENTURES_IN_THE_COUNTRY"></a>A SCHOLAR'S ADVENTURES IN THE COUNTRY.</h2>
+
+
+<p>"If we could only live in the country," said my wife, "how much easier
+it would be to live!"</p>
+
+<p>"And how much cheaper!" said I.</p>
+
+<p>"To have a little place of our own, and raise our own things!" said my
+wife. "Dear me! I am heart sick when I think of the old place at home,
+and father's great garden. What peaches and melons we used to have! what
+green peas and corn! Now one has to buy every cent's worth of these
+things&mdash;and how they taste! Such wilted, miserable corn! Such peas!
+Then, if we lived in the country, we should have our own cow, and milk
+and cream in abundance; our own hens and chickens. We could have custard
+and ice cream every day."</p>
+
+<p>"To say nothing of the trees and flowers, and all that," said I.</p>
+
+<p>The result of this little domestic duet was, that my wife and I began to
+ride about the city of &mdash;&mdash; to look up some pretty, interesting cottage,
+where our visions of rural bliss might be realized. Country residences,
+near the city, we found to bear rather a high price; so that it was no
+easy matter to find a situation suitable to the length of our purse;
+till, at last, a judicious friend suggested a happy expedient.</p>
+
+<p>"Borrow a few hundred," he said, "and give your note; you can save
+enough, very soon, to make the difference. When you raise every thing
+you eat, you know it will make your salary go a wonderful deal further."</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly it will," said I. "And what can be more beautiful than to buy
+places by the simple process of giving one's note?&mdash;'tis so neat, and
+handy, and convenient!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why," pursued my friend, "there is Mr. B., my next door neighbor&mdash;'tis
+enough to make one sick of life in the city to spend a week out on his
+farm. Such princely living as one gets! And he assures me that it costs
+him very little&mdash;scarce any thing, perceptible, in fact."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed!" said I; "few people can say that."</p>
+
+<p>"Why," said my friend, "he has a couple of peach trees for every month,
+from June till frost, that furnish as many peaches as he, and his wife,
+and ten children can dispose of. And then he has grapes, apricots, etc..;
+and last year his wife sold fifty dollars' worth from her strawberry
+patch, and had an abundance for the table besides. Out of the milk of
+only one cow they had butter enough to sell three or four pounds a week,
+besides abundance of milk and cream; and madam has the butter for her
+pocket money. This is the way country people manage."</p>
+
+<p>"Glorious!" thought I. And my wife and I could scarce sleep, all night,
+for the brilliancy of our anticipations!</p>
+
+<p>To be sure our delight was somewhat damped the next day by the coldness
+with which my good old uncle, Jeremiah Standfast, who happened along at
+precisely this crisis, listened to our visions.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll find it <i>pleasant</i>, children, in the summer time," said the
+hard-fisted old man, twirling his blue-checked pocket handkerchief; "but
+I'm sorry you've gone in debt for the land."</p>
+
+<p>"O, but we shall soon save that&mdash;it's so much cheaper living in the
+country!" said both of us together.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, as to that, I don't think it is to city-bred folks."</p>
+
+<p>Here I broke in with a flood of accounts of Mr. B.'s peach trees, and
+Mrs. B.'s strawberries, butter, apricots, etc.., etc..; to which the old
+gentleman listened with such a long, leathery, unmoved quietude of
+visage as quite provoked me, and gave me the worst possible opinion of
+his judgment. I was disappointed too; for, as he was reckoned one of the
+best practical farmers in the county, I had counted on an enthusiastic
+sympathy with all my agricultural designs.</p>
+
+<p>"I tell you what, children," he said, "a body can live in the country,
+as you say, amazin' cheap; but then a body must <i>know how</i>"&mdash;and my
+uncle spread his pocket handkerchief thoughtfully out upon his knees,
+and shook his head gravely.</p>
+
+<p>I thought him a terribly slow, stupid old body, and wondered how I had
+always entertained so high an opinion of his sense.</p>
+
+<p>"He is evidently getting old," said I to my wife; "his judgment is not
+what it used to be."</p>
+
+<p>At all events, our place was bought, and we moved out, well pleased, the
+first morning in April, not at all remembering the ill savor of that day
+for matters of wisdom. Our place was a pretty cottage, about two miles
+from the city, with grounds that had been tastefully laid out. There was
+no lack of winding paths, arbors, flower borders, and rosebushes, with
+which my wife was especially pleased. There was a little green lot,
+strolling off down to a brook, with a thick grove of trees at the end,
+where our cow was to be pastured.</p>
+
+<p>The first week or two went on happily enough in getting our little new
+pet of a house into trimness and good order; for, as it had been long
+for sale, of course there was any amount of little repairs that had been
+left to amuse the leisure hours of the purchaser. Here a door step had
+given away, and needed replacing; there a shutter hung loose, and wanted
+a hinge; abundance of glass needed setting; and as to painting and
+papering, there was no end to that. Then my wife wanted a door cut here,
+to make our bed room more convenient, and a china closet knocked up
+there, where no china closet before had been. We even ventured on
+throwing out a bay window from our sitting room, because we had luckily
+lighted on a workman who was so cheap that it was an actual saving of
+money to employ him. And to be sure our darling little cottage did lift
+up its head wonderfully for all this garnishing and furbishing. I got up
+early every morning, and nailed up the rosebushes, and my wife got up
+and watered geraniums, and both flattered ourselves and each other on
+our early hours and thrifty habits. But soon, like Adam and Eve in
+Paradise, we found our little domain to ask more hands than ours to get
+it into shape. So says I to my wife, "I will bring out a gardener when I
+come next time, and he shall lay the garden out, and get it into order;
+and after that, I can easily keep it by the work of my leisure hours."</p>
+
+<p>Our gardener was a very sublime sort of man,&mdash;an Englishman, and, of
+course, used to laying out noblemen's places,&mdash;and we became as
+grasshoppers in our own eyes when he talked of lord this and that's
+estate, and began to question us about our carriage drive and
+conservatory; and we could with difficulty bring the gentleman down to
+any understanding of the humble limits of our expectations: merely to
+dress out the walks, and lay out a kitchen garden, and plant potatoes,
+turnips, beets, and carrots, was quite a descent for him. In fact, so
+strong were his æsthetic preferences, that he persuaded my wife to let
+him dig all the turf off from a green square opposite the bay window,
+and to lay it out into divers little triangles, resembling small pieces
+of pie, together with circles, mounds, and various other geometrical
+ornaments, the planning and planting of which soon engrossed my wife's
+whole soul. The planting of the potatoes, beets, carrots, etc.., was
+intrusted to a raw Irishman; for, as to me, to confess the truth, I
+began to fear that digging did not agree with me. It is true that I was
+exceedingly vigorous at first, and actually planted with my own hands
+two or three long rows of potatoes; after which I got a turn of
+rheumatism in my shoulder, which lasted me a week. Stooping down to
+plant beets and radishes gave me a vertigo, so that I was obliged to
+content myself with a general superintendence of the garden; that is to
+say, I charged my Englishman to see that my Irishman did his duty
+properly, and then got on to my horse and rode to the city. But about
+one part of the matter, I must say, I was not remiss; and that is, in
+the purchase of seed and garden utensils. Not a day passed that I did
+not come home with my pockets stuffed with, choice seeds, roots, etc..;
+and the variety of my garden utensils was unequalled. There was not a
+pruning hook, of any pattern, not a hoe, rake, or spade, great or small,
+that I did not have specimens of; and flower seeds and bulbs were also
+forthcoming in liberal proportions. In fact, I had opened an account at
+a thriving seed store; for, when a man is driving business on a large
+scale, it is not always convenient to hand out the change for every
+little matter, and buying things on account is as neat and agreeable a
+mode of acquisition as paying bills with one's notes.</p>
+
+<p>"You know we must have a cow," said my wife, the morning of our second
+week. Our friend the gardener, who had now worked with us at the rate of
+two dollars a day for two weeks, was at hand in a moment in our
+emergency. We wanted to buy a cow, and he had one to sell&mdash;a wonderful
+cow, of a real English breed. He would not sell her for any money,
+except to oblige particular friends; but as we had patronized him, we
+should have her for forty dollars. How much we were obliged to him! The
+forty dollars were speedily forthcoming, and so also was the cow.</p>
+
+<p>"What makes her shake her head in that way?" said my wife,
+apprehensively, as she observed the interesting beast making sundry
+demonstrations with her horns. "I hope she's gentle."</p>
+
+<p>The gardener fluently demonstrated that the animal was a pattern of all
+the softer graces, and that this head-shaking was merely a little
+nervous affection consequent on the embarrassment of a new position. We
+had faith to believe almost any thing at this time, and therefore came
+from the barn yard to the house as much satisfied with our purchase as
+Job with his three thousand camels and five hundred yoke of oxen. Her
+quondam master milked her for us the first evening, out of a delicate
+regard to her feelings as a stranger, and we fancied that we discerned
+forty dollars' worth of excellence in the very quality of the milk.</p>
+
+<p>But alas! the next morning our Irish girl came in with a most rueful
+face. "And is it milking that baste you'd have me be after?" she said;
+"sure, and she won't let me come near her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense, Biddy!" said I; "you frightened her, perhaps; the cow is
+perfectly gentle;" and with the pail on my arm, I sallied forth. The
+moment madam saw me entering the cow yard, she greeted me with a very
+expressive flourish of her horns.</p>
+
+<p>"This won't do," said I, and I stopped. The lady evidently was serious
+in her intentions of resisting any personal approaches. I cut a cudgel,
+and putting on a bold face, marched towards her, while Biddy followed
+with her milking stool. Apparently, the beast saw the necessity of
+temporizing, for she assumed a demure expression, and Biddy sat down to
+milk. I stood sentry, and if the lady shook her head, I shook my stick;
+and thus the milking operation proceeded with tolerable serenity and
+success.</p>
+
+<p>"There!" said I, with dignity, when the frothing pail was full to the
+brim. "That will do, Biddy," and I dropped my stick. Dump! came madam's
+heel on the side of the pail, and it flew like a rocket into the air,
+while the milky flood showered plentifully over me, and a new broadcloth
+riding-coat that I had assumed for the first time that morning. "Whew!"
+said I, as soon as I could get my breath from this extraordinary shower
+bath; "what's all this?" My wife came running towards the cow yard, as I
+stood with the milk streaming from my hair, filling my eyes, and
+dropping from the tip of my nose; and she and Biddy performed a
+recitative lamentation over me in alternate strophes, like the chorus in
+a Greek tragedy. Such was our first morning's experience; but as we had
+announced our bargain with some considerable flourish of trumpets among
+our neighbors and friends, we concluded to hush the matter up as much as
+possible.</p>
+
+<p>"These very superior cows are apt to be cross," said I; "we must bear
+with it as we do with the eccentricities of genius; besides, when she
+gets accustomed to us, it will be better."</p>
+
+<p>Madam was therefore installed into her pretty pasture lot, and my wife
+contemplated with pleasure the picturesque effect of her appearance,
+reclining on the green slope of the pasture lot, or standing ankle deep
+in the gurgling brook, or reclining under the deep shadows of the trees.
+She was, in fact, a handsome cow, which may account, in part, for some
+of her sins; and this consideration inspired me with some degree of
+indulgence towards her foibles.</p>
+
+<p>But when I found that Biddy could never succeed in getting near her in
+the pasture, and that any kind of success in the milking operations
+required my vigorous personal exertions morning and evening, the matter
+wore a more serious aspect, and I began to feel quite pensive and
+apprehensive. It is very well to talk of the pleasures of the milkmaid
+going out in the balmy freshness of the purple dawn; but imagine a poor
+fellow pulled out of bed on a drizzly, rainy morning, and equipping
+himself for a scamper through a wet pasture lot, rope in hand, at the
+heels of such a termagant as mine! In fact, madam established a regular
+series of exercises, which had all to be gone through before she would
+suffer herself to be captured; as, first, she would station herself
+plump in the middle of a marsh, which lay at the lower part of the lot,
+and look very innocent and absent-minded, as if reflecting on some
+sentimental subject. "Suke! Suke! Suke!" I ejaculate, cautiously
+tottering along the edge of the marsh, and holding out an ear of corn.
+The lady looks gracious, and comes forward, almost within reach of my
+hand. I make a plunge to throw the rope over her horns, and away she
+goes, kicking up mud and water into my face in her flight, while I,
+losing my balance, tumble forward into the marsh. I pick myself up, and,
+full of wrath, behold her placidly chewing her cud on the other side,
+with the meekest air imaginable, as who should say, "I hope you are not
+hurt, sir." I dash through swamp and bog furiously, resolving to carry
+all by a <i>coup de main</i>. Then follows a miscellaneous season of dodging,
+scampering, and bopeeping, among the trees of the grove, interspersed
+with sundry occasional races across the bog aforesaid. I always wondered
+how I caught her every day; and when I had tied her head to one post and
+her heels to another, I wiped the sweat from my brow, and thought I was
+paying dear for the eccentricities of genius. A genius she certainly
+was, for besides her surprising agility, she had other talents equally
+extraordinary. There was no fence that she could not take down; nowhere
+that she could not go. She took the pickets off the garden fence at her
+pleasure, using her horns as handily as I could use a claw hammer.
+Whatever she had a mind to, whether it were a bite in the cabbage
+garden, or a run in the corn patch, or a foraging expedition into the
+flower borders, she made herself equally welcome and at home. Such a
+scampering and driving, such cries of "Suke here" and "Suke there," as
+constantly greeted our ears, kept our little establishment in a constant
+commotion. At last, when she one morning made a plunge at the skirts of
+my new broadcloth frock coat, and carried off one flap on her horns, my
+patience gave out, and I determined to sell her.</p>
+
+<p>As, however, I had made a good story of my misfortunes among my friends
+and neighbors, and amused them with sundry whimsical accounts of my
+various adventures in the cow-catching line, I found, when I came to
+speak of selling, that there was a general coolness on the subject, and
+nobody seemed disposed to be the recipient of my responsibilities. In
+short, I was glad, at last, to get fifteen dollars for her, and
+comforted myself with thinking that I had at least gained twenty-five
+dollars worth of experience in the transaction, to say nothing of the
+fine exercise.</p>
+
+<p>I comforted my soul, however, the day after, by purchasing and bringing
+home to my wife a fine swarm of bees.</p>
+
+<p>"Your bee, now," says I, "is a really classical insect, and breathes of
+Virgil and the Augustan age&mdash;and then she is a domestic, tranquil,
+placid creature. How beautiful the murmuring of a hive near our
+honeysuckle of a calm, summer evening! Then they are tranquilly and
+peacefully amassing for us their stores of sweetness, while they lull us
+with their murmurs. What a beautiful image of disinterested
+benevolence!"</p>
+
+<p>My wife declared that I was quite a poet, and the beehive was duly
+installed near the flower plots, that the delicate creatures might have
+the full benefit of the honeysuckle and mignonette. My spirits began to
+rise. I bought three different treatises on the rearing of bees, and
+also one or two new patterns of hives, and proposed to rear my bees on
+the most approved model. I charged all the establishment to let me know
+when there was any indication of an emigrating spirit, that I might be
+ready to receive the new swarm into my patent mansion.</p>
+
+<p>Accordingly, one afternoon, when I was deep in an article that I was
+preparing for the North American Review, intelligence was brought me
+that a swarm had risen. I was on the alert at once, and discovered, on
+going out, that the provoking creatures had chosen the top of a tree
+about thirty feet high to settle on. Now my books had carefully
+instructed me just how to approach the swarm and cover them with a new
+hive; but I had never contemplated the possibility of the swarm being,
+like Haman's gallows, forty cubits high. I looked despairingly upon the
+smooth-bark tree, which rose, like a column, full twenty feet, without
+branch or twig. "What is to be done?" said I, appealing to two or three
+neighbors. At last, at the recommendation of one of them, a ladder was
+raised against the tree, and, equipped with a shirt outside of my
+clothes, a green veil over my head, and a pair of leather gloves on my
+hands, I went up with a saw at my girdle to saw off the branch on which
+they had settled, and lower it by a rope to a neighbor, similarly
+equipped, who stood below with the hive.</p>
+
+<p>As a result of this manoeuvre the fastidious little insects were at
+length fairly installed at housekeeping in my new patent hive, and,
+rejoicing in my success, I again sat down to my article.</p>
+
+<p>That evening my wife and I took tea in our honeysuckle arbor, with our
+little ones and a friend or two, to whom I showed my treasures, and
+expatiated at large on the comforts and conveniences of the new patent
+hive.</p>
+
+<p>But alas for the hopes of man! The little ungrateful wretches&mdash;what must
+they do but take advantage of my over-sleeping myself, the next morning,
+to clear out for new quarters without so much as leaving me a P. P. C.!
+Such was the fact; at eight o'clock I found the new patent hive as good
+as ever; but the bees I have never seen from that day to this!</p>
+
+<p>"The rascally little conservatives!" said I; "I believe they have never
+had a new idea from the days of Virgil down, and are entirely unprepared
+to appreciate improvements."</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile the seeds began to germinate in our garden, when we found, to
+our chagrin, that, between John Bull and Paddy, there had occurred
+sundry confusions in the several departments. Radishes had been planted
+broadcast, carrots and beets arranged in hills, and here and there a
+whole paper of seed appeared to have been planted bodily. My good old
+uncle, who, somewhat to my confusion, made me a call at this time, was
+greatly distressed and scandalized by the appearance of our garden. But,
+by a deal of fussing, transplanting, and replanting, it was got into
+some shape and order. My uncle was rather troublesome, as careful old
+people are apt to be&mdash;annoying us by perpetual inquiries of what we gave
+for this, and that, and running up provoking calculations on the final
+cost of matters; and we began to wish that his visits might be as short
+as would be convenient.</p>
+
+<p>But when, on taking leave, he promised to send us a fine young cow of
+his own raising, our hearts rather smote us for our impatience.</p>
+
+<p>"'Tain't any of your new breeds, nephew," said the old man, "yet I can
+say that she's a gentle, likely young crittur, and better worth forty
+dollars than many a one that's cried up for Ayrshire or Durham; and you
+shall be quite welcome to her."</p>
+
+<p>We thanked him, as in duty bound, and thought that if he was full of
+old-fashioned notions, he was no less full of kindness and good will.</p>
+
+<p>And now, with a new cow, with our garden beginning to thrive under the
+gentle showers of May, with our flower borders blooming, my wife and I
+began to think ourselves in Paradise. But alas! the same sun and rain
+that warmed our fruit and flowers brought up from the earth, like sulky
+gnomes, a vast array of purple-leaved weeds, that almost in a night
+seemed to cover the whole surface of the garden beds. Our gardeners both
+being gone, the weeding was expected to be done by me&mdash;one of the
+anticipated relaxations of my leisure hours.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said I, in reply to a gentle intimation from my wife, "when my
+article is finished, I'll take a day and weed all up clean."</p>
+
+<p>Thus days slipped by, till at length the article was despatched, and I
+proceeded to my garden. Amazement! Who could have possibly foreseen that
+any thing earthly could grow so fast in a few days! There were no
+bounds, no alleys, no beds, no distinction of beet and carrot, nothing
+but a flourishing congregation of weeds nodding and bobbing in the
+morning breeze, as if to say, "We hope you are well, sir&mdash;we've got the
+ground, you see!" I began to explore, and to hoe, and to weed. Ah! did
+any body ever try to clean a neglected carrot or beet bed, or bend his
+back in a hot sun over rows of weedy onions! He is the man to feel for
+my despair! How I weeded, and sweat, and sighed! till, when high noon
+came on, as the result of all my toils, only three beds were cleaned!
+And how disconsolate looked the good seed, thus unexpectedly delivered
+from its sheltering tares, and laid open to a broiling July sun! Every
+juvenile beet and carrot lay flat down, wilted and drooping, as if, like
+me, they had been weeding, instead of being weeded.</p>
+
+<p>"This weeding is quite a serious matter," said I to my wife; "the fact
+is, I must have help about it!"</p>
+
+<p>"Just what I was myself thinking," said my wife. "My flower borders are
+all in confusion, and my petunia mounds so completely overgrown, that
+nobody would dream what they were meant for!"</p>
+
+<p>In short, it was agreed between us that we could not afford the expense
+of a full-grown man to keep our place; yet we must reënforce ourselves
+by the addition of a boy, and a brisk youngster from the vicinity was
+pitched upon as the happy addition. This youth was a fellow of decidedly
+quick parts, and in one forenoon made such a clearing in our garden that
+I was delighted. Bed after bed appeared to view, all cleared and dressed
+out with such celerity that I was quite ashamed of my own slowness,
+until, on examination, I discovered that he had, with great
+impartiality, pulled up both weeds and vegetables.</p>
+
+<p>This hopeful beginning was followed up by a succession of proceedings
+which should be recorded for the instruction of all who seek for help
+from the race of boys. Such a loser of all tools, great and small; such
+an invariable leaver-open of all gates, and letter-down of bars; such a
+personification of all manner of anarchy and ill luck, had never before
+been seen on the estate. His time, while I was gone to the city, was
+agreeably diversified with roosting on the fence, swinging on the gates,
+making poplar whistles for the children, hunting eggs, and eating
+whatever fruit happened to be in season, in which latter accomplishment
+he was certainly quite distinguished. After about three weeks of this
+kind of joint gardening, we concluded to dismiss Master Tom from the
+firm, and employ a man.</p>
+
+<p>"Things must be taken care of," said I, "and I cannot do it. 'Tis out of
+the question." And so the man was secured.</p>
+
+<p>But I am making a long story, and may chance to outrun the sympathies of
+my readers. Time would fail me to tell of the distresses manifold that
+fell upon me&mdash;of cows dried up by poor milkers; of hens that wouldn't
+set at all, and hens that, despite all law and reason, would set on one
+egg; of hens that, having hatched families, straightway led them into
+all manner of high grass and weeds, by which means numerous young chicks
+caught premature colds and perished; and how, when I, with manifold
+toil, had driven one of these inconsiderate gadders into a coop, to
+teach her domestic habits, the rats came down upon her and slew every
+chick in one night; how my pigs were always practising gymnastic
+exercises over the fence of the sty, and marauding in the garden. I
+wonder that Fourier never conceived the idea of having his garden land
+ploughed by pigs; for certainly they manifest quite a decided elective
+attraction for turning up the earth.</p>
+
+<p>When autumn came, I went soberly to market, in the neighboring city, and
+bought my potatoes and turnips like any other man; for, between all the
+various systems of gardening pursued, I was obliged to confess that my
+first horticultural effort was a decided failure. But though all my
+rural visions had proved illusive, there were some very substantial
+realities. My bill at the seed store, for seeds, roots, and tools, for
+example, had run up to an amount that was perfectly unaccountable; then
+there were various smaller items, such as horse shoeing, carriage
+mending&mdash;for he who lives in the country and does business in the city
+must keep his vehicle and appurtenances. I had always prided myself on
+being an exact man, and settling every account, great and small, with
+the going out of the old year; but this season I found myself sorely put
+to it. In fact, had not I received a timely lift from my good old uncle,
+I should have made a complete break down. The old gentleman's
+troublesome habit of ciphering and calculating, it seems, had led him
+beforehand to foresee that I was not exactly in the money-making line,
+nor likely to possess much surplus revenue to meet the note which I had
+given for my place; and, therefore, he quietly paid it himself, as I
+discovered, when, after much anxiety and some sleepless nights, I went
+to the holder to ask for an extension of credit.</p>
+
+<p>"He was right, after all," said I to my wife; "'to live cheap in the
+country, a body must know how.'"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="WOMAN_BEHOLD_THY_SON" id="WOMAN_BEHOLD_THY_SON"></a>"WOMAN, BEHOLD THY SON!"</h2>
+
+
+<p>The golden rays of a summer afternoon were streaming through the windows
+of a quiet apartment, where every thing was the picture of orderly
+repose. Gently and noiselessly they glide, gilding the glossy old
+chairs, polished by years of care; fluttering with flickering gleam on
+the bookcases, by the fire, and the antique China vases on the mantel,
+and even coqueting with sparkles of fanciful gayety over the face of the
+perpendicular, sombre old clock, which, though at times apparently
+coaxed almost to the verge of a smile, still continued its inevitable
+tick, as for a century before.</p>
+
+<p>On the hearth rug lay outstretched a great, lazy-looking, Maltese cat,
+evidently enjoying the golden beam that fell upon his sober sides, and
+sleepily opening and shutting his great green eyes, as if lost in
+luxurious contemplation.</p>
+
+<p>But the most characteristic figure in the whole picture was that of an
+aged woman, who sat quietly rocking to and fro in a great chair by the
+side of a large round table covered with books. There was a quiet beauty
+in that placid face&mdash;that silvery hair brushed neatly under the snowy
+border of the cap. Every line in that furrowed face told some tale of
+sorrow long assuaged, and passions hushed to rest, as on the calm ocean
+shore the golden-furrowed sand shows traces of storms and fluctuations
+long past.</p>
+
+<p>On the round, green-covered table beside her lay the quiet companion of
+her age, the large Bible, whose pages, like the gates of the celestial
+city, were not shut at all by day, a few old standard books, and the
+pleasant, rippling knitting, whose dreamy, irresponsible monotony is the
+best music of age.</p>
+
+<p>A fair, girlish form was seated by the table; the dress bonnet had
+fallen back on her shoulders, the soft cheeks were suffused and earnest,
+the long lashes and the veiled eyes were eloquent of subdued feeling, as
+she read aloud from the letter in her hand. It was from "our Harry," a
+name to both of them comprising all that was dear and valued on earth,
+for he was "the only son of his mother, and she a widow;" yet had he not
+been always an only one; flower after flower on the tree of her life had
+bloomed and died, and gradually, as waters cut off from many channels,
+the streams of love had centred deeper in this last and only one.</p>
+
+<p>And, in truth, Harry Sargeant was all that a mother might desire or be
+proud of. Generous, high-minded, witty, and talented, and with a strong
+and noble physical development, he seemed born to command the love of
+women. The only trouble with him was, in common parlance, that he was
+too clever a fellow; he was too social, too impressible, too versatile,
+too attractive, and too much in demand for his own good. He always drew
+company about him, as honey draws flies, and was indispensable every
+where and to every body; and it needs a steady head and firm nerves for
+such a one to escape ruin.</p>
+
+<p>Harry's course in college, though brilliant in scholarship, had been
+critical and perilous. He was a decided favorite with the faculty and
+students; yet it required a great deal of hard winking and adroit
+management on the part of his instructors to bring him through without
+infringement of college laws and proprieties: not that he ever meant the
+least harm in his life, but that some extra generous impulse, some
+quixotic generosity, was always tumbling him, neck and heels, into
+somebody's scrapes, and making him part and parcel in every piece of
+mischief that was going on.</p>
+
+<p>With all this premised, there is no need to say that Harry was a special
+favorite with ladies; in truth, it was a confessed fact among his
+acquaintances, that, whereas dozens of creditable, respectable,
+well-to-do young men might besiege female hearts with every proper
+formality, waiting at the gates and watching at the posts of the doors
+in vain, yet before him all gates and passages seemed to fly open of
+their own accord. Nevertheless, there was in his native village one
+quiet maiden who held alone in her hand the key that could unlock his
+heart in return, and carried silently in her own the spell that could
+fetter that brilliant, restless spirit; and she it was, of the
+thoughtful brow and downcast eyes, whom we saw in our picture, bending
+over the letter with his mother.</p>
+
+<p>That mother Harry loved to idolatry. She was to his mind an
+impersonation of all that was lovely in womanhood, hallowed and sainted
+by age, by wisdom, by sorrow; and his love for her was a beautiful union
+of protective tenderness, with veneration; and to his Ellen it seemed
+the best and most sacred evidence of the nobleness of his nature, and of
+the worth of the heart which he had pledged to her.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, there was a danger overhanging the heads of the three&mdash;a
+little cloud, no bigger than a man's hand, rising in the horizon of
+their hopes, yet destined to burst upon them, dark and dreadful, in a
+future day.</p>
+
+<p>In those scenes of college hilarity where Harry had been so
+indispensable, the bright, poetic wine cup had freely circulated, and
+often amid the flush of conversation, and the genial excitement of the
+hour, he had drank freer and deeper than was best.</p>
+
+<p>He said, it is true, that he cared nothing for it, that it was nothing
+to him, that it never affected him, and all those things that young men
+always say when the cup of Circe is beginning its work with them.
+Friends were annoyed, became anxious, remonstrated; but he laughed at
+their fears, and insisted on knowing himself best. At last, with a
+sudden start and shiver of his moral nature, he was awakened to a
+dreadful perception of his danger, and resolved on decided and
+determinate resistance. During this period he came to Cincinnati to
+establish himself in business, and as at this time the temperance
+reformation was in full tide of success there, he found every thing to
+strengthen his resolution; temperance meetings and speeches were all the
+mode; young men of the first standing were its patrons and supporters;
+wine was quite in the vocative, and seemed really in danger of being
+voted out of society. In such a turn of affairs, to sign a temperance
+pledge and keep it became an easy thing; temptation was scarce presented
+or felt; he was offered the glass in no social circle, met its
+attraction nowhere, and flattered himself that he had escaped so great a
+danger easily and completely.</p>
+
+<p>His usual fortune of social popularity followed him, and his visiting
+circle became full as large and importunate as a young man with any
+thing else to do need desire. He was diligent in his application to
+business, began to be mentioned with approbation by the magnates as a
+rising young man, and had prospects daily nearing of competence and
+home, and all that man desires&mdash;visions, alas! never to be realized.</p>
+
+<p>For after a while the tide that had risen so high began imperceptibly to
+decline. Men that had made eloquent speeches on temperance had now other
+things to look to. Fastidious persons thought that matters had, perhaps,
+been carried too far, and ladies declared that it was old and
+threadbare, and getting to be cant and stuff; and the ever-ready wine
+cup was gliding back into many a circle, as if, on sober second
+thoughts, the community was convinced that it was a friend unjustly
+belied.</p>
+
+<p>There is no point in the history of reform, either in communities or
+individuals, so dangerous as that where danger seems entirely past. As
+long as a man thinks his health failing, he watches, he diets, and will
+undergo the most heroic self-denial; but let him once set himself down
+as cured, and how readily does he fall back to one soft indulgent habit
+after another, all tending to ruin every thing that he has before done!</p>
+
+<p>So in communities. Let intemperance rage, and young men go to ruin by
+dozens, and the very evil inspires the remedy; but when the trumpet has
+been sounded, and the battle set in array, and the victory only said and
+sung in speeches, and newspaper paragraphs, and temperance odes, and
+processions, then comes the return wave; people cry, Enough; the
+community, vastly satisfied, lies down to sleep in its laurels; and then
+comes the hour of danger.</p>
+
+<p>But let not the man who has once been swept down the stream of
+intemperate excitement, almost to the verge of ruin, dream of any point
+of security for him. He is like one who has awakened in the rapids of
+Niagara, and with straining oar and wild prayers to Heaven, forced his
+boat upward into smoother water, where the draught of the current seems
+to cease, and the banks smile, and all looks beautiful, and weary from
+rowing, lays by his oar to rest and dream; he knows not that under that
+smooth water still glides a current, that while he dreams, is
+imperceptibly but surely hurrying him back whence there is no return.</p>
+
+<p>Harry was just in this perilous point; he viewed danger as long past,
+his self-confidence was fully restored, and in his security he began to
+neglect those lighter outworks of caution which he must still guard who
+does not mean, at last, to surrender the citadel.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>"Now, girls and boys," said Mrs. G. to her sons and daughters, who were
+sitting round a centre table covered with notes of invitation, and all
+the preliminary <i>et cetera</i> of a party, "what shall we have on Friday
+night?&mdash;tea, coffee, lemonade, wine? of course not."</p>
+
+<p>"And why not wine, mamma?" said the young ladies; "the people are
+beginning to have it; they had wine at Mrs. A.'s and Mrs. B.'s."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, your papa thinks it won't do,&mdash;the boys are members of the
+temperance society,&mdash;and <i>I</i> don't think, girls, it will <i>do</i> myself."</p>
+
+<p>There are many good sort of people, by the by, who always view moral
+questions in this style of phraseology&mdash;not what is right, but what will
+"<i>do</i>."</p>
+
+<p>The girls made an appropriate reply to this view of the subject, by
+showing that Mrs. A. and Mrs. B. had done the thing, and nobody seemed
+to make any talk.</p>
+
+<p>The boys, who thus far in the conversation had been thoughtfully rapping
+their boots with their canes, now interposed, and said that they would
+rather not have wine if it wouldn't look shabby.</p>
+
+<p>"But it <i>will</i> look shabby," said Miss Fanny. "Lemons, you know, are
+scarce to be got for any price, and as for lemonade made of sirup, it's
+positively vulgar and detestable; it tastes just like cream of tartar
+and spirits of turpentine."</p>
+
+<p>"For my part," said Emma, "I never did see the harm of wine, even when
+people were making the most fuss about it; to be sure rum and brandy and
+all that are bad, but wine&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And so convenient to get," said Fanny; "and no decent young man ever
+gets drunk at parties, so it can't do any harm; besides, one must have
+something, and, as I said, it will look shabby not to have it."</p>
+
+<p>Now, there is no imputation that young men are so much afraid of,
+especially from the lips of ladies, as that of shabbiness; and as it
+happened in this case as most others that the young ladies were the most
+efficient talkers, the question was finally carried on their side.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. G. was a mild and a motherly woman, just the one fitted to inspire
+young men with confidence and that <i>home</i> feeling which all men desire
+to find somewhere. Her house was a free and easy ground, social for most
+of the young people of her acquaintance, and Harry was a favorite and
+domesticated visitor.</p>
+
+<p>During the height of the temperance reform, fathers and brothers had
+given it their open and decided support, and Mrs. G.&mdash;always easily
+enlisted for any good movement&mdash;sympathized warmly in their endeavors.
+The great fault was, that too often incident to the gentleness of
+woman&mdash;a want of self-reliant principle. Her virtue was too much the
+result of mere sympathy, too little of her own conviction. Hence, when
+those she loved grew cold towards a good cause, they found no sustaining
+power in her, and those who were relying on her judgment and opinions
+insensibly controlled them. Notwithstanding, she was a woman that always
+acquired a great influence over young men, and Harry had loved and
+revered her with something of the same sentiment that he cherished
+towards his own mother.</p>
+
+<p>It was the most brilliant party of the season. Every thing was got up in
+faultless taste, and Mrs. G. was in the very spirit of it. The girls
+were looking beautifully; the rooms were splendid; there was enough and
+not too much of light and warmth, and all were doing their best to
+please and be cheerful. Harry was more brilliant than usual, and in fact
+outdid himself. Wit and mind were the spirit of the hour.</p>
+
+<p>"Just taste this tokay," said one of the sisters to him; "it has just
+been sent us from Europe, and is said to be a genuine article."</p>
+
+<p>"You know I'm not in that line," said Harry, laughing and coloring.</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?" said another young lady, taking a glass.</p>
+
+<p>"O, the temperance pledge, you know! I am one of the pillars of the
+order, a very apostle; it will never do for me."</p>
+
+<p>"Pshaw! those temperance pledges are like the proverb, 'something
+musty,'" said a gay girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, but you said you had a headache the beginning of the evening, and
+you really look pale; you certainly need it as a medicine," said Fanny.
+"I'll leave it to mamma;" and she turned to Mrs. G., who stood gayly
+entertaining a group of young people.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing more likely," replied she, gayly; "I think, Harry, you have
+looked pale lately; a glass of wine might do you good."</p>
+
+<p>Had Mrs. G. known all of Harry's past history and temptations, and had
+she not been in just the inconsiderate state that very good ladies
+sometimes get into at a party, she would sooner have sacrificed her
+right hand than to have thrown this observation into the scales; but she
+did, and they turned the balance for him.</p>
+
+<p>"You shall be my doctor," he said, as, laughing and coloring, he drank
+the glass&mdash;and where was the harm? One glass of wine kills nobody; and
+yet if a man falls, and knows that in that glass he sacrifices principle
+and conscience, every drop may be poison to the soul and body.</p>
+
+<p>Harry felt at that very time that a great internal barrier had given
+way; nor was that glass the only one that evening; another, and another,
+and another followed; his spirits rose with the wild and feverish gayety
+incident to his excitable temperament, and what had been begun in the
+society of ladies was completed late at night in the gentlemen's saloon.</p>
+
+<p>Nobody ever knew, or thought, or recognized that that one party had
+forever undone this young man; and yet so it was. From that night his
+struggle of moral resistance was fatally impaired; not that he yielded
+at once and without desperate efforts and struggles, but gradually each
+struggle grew weaker, each reform shorter, each resolution more
+inefficient; yet at the close of the evening all those friends, mother,
+brother, and sister, flattered themselves that every thing had gone on
+so well that the next week Mrs. H. thought that it would do to give wine
+at the party because Mrs. G. had done it last week, and no harm had come
+of it.</p>
+
+<p>In about a year after, the G.'s began to notice and lament the habits of
+their young friend, and all unconsciously to wonder how such a fine
+young man should be so led astray.</p>
+
+<p>Harry was of a decided and desperate nature; his affections and his
+moral sense waged a fierce war with the terrible tyrant&mdash;the madness
+that had possessed him; and when at last all hope died out, he
+determined to avoid the anguish and shame of a drunkard's life by a
+suicide's death. Then came to the trembling, heart-stricken mother and
+beloved one a wild, incoherent letter of farewell, and he disappeared
+from among the living.</p>
+
+<p>In the same quiet parlor, where the sunshine still streams through
+flickering leaves, it now rested on the polished sides and glittering
+plate of a coffin; there at last lay the weary at rest, the soft,
+shining gray hair was still gleaming as before, but deeper furrows on
+the wan cheek, and a weary, heavy languor over the pale, peaceful face,
+told that those gray hairs had been brought down in sorrow to the grave.
+Sadder still was the story on the cloudless cheek and lips of the young
+creature bending in quiet despair over her. Poor Ellen! her life's
+thread, woven with these two beloved ones, was broken.</p>
+
+<p>And may all this happen?&mdash;nay, does it not happen?&mdash;just such things
+happen to young men among us every day. And do they not lead in a
+thousand ways to sorrows just like these? And is there not a
+responsibility on all who ought to be the guardians of the safety and
+purity of the other sex, to avoid setting before them the temptation to
+which so often and so fatally manhood has yielded? What is a paltry
+consideration of fashion, compared to the safety of sons, brothers, and
+husbands? The greatest fault of womanhood is slavery to custom; and yet
+who but woman makes custom? Are not all the usages and fashions of
+polite society more her work than that of man? And let every mother and
+sister think of the mothers and sisters of those who come within the
+range of their influence, and say to themselves, when in thoughtlessness
+they discuss questions affecting their interests, "Behold thy
+brother!"&mdash;"Behold thy son!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_CORAL_RING" id="THE_CORAL_RING"></a>THE CORAL RING.</h2>
+
+
+<p>"There is no time of life in which young girls are so thoroughly selfish
+as from fifteen to twenty," said Edward Ashton, deliberately, as he laid
+down a book he had been reading, and leaned over the centre table.</p>
+
+<p>"You insulting fellow!" replied a tall, brilliant-looking creature, who
+was lounging on an ottoman hard by, over one of Dickens's last works.</p>
+
+<p>"Truth, coz, for all that," said the gentleman, with the air of one who
+means to provoke a discussion.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Edward, this is just one of your wholesale declarations, for
+nothing only to get me into a dispute with you, you know," replied the
+lady. "On your conscience, now, (if you have one,) is it not so?"</p>
+
+<p>"My conscience feels quite easy, cousin, in subscribing to that
+sentiment as my confession of faith," replied the gentleman, with
+provoking <i>sang froid</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"Pshaw! it's one of your fusty old bachelor notions. See what comes,
+now, of your living to your time of life without a wife&mdash;disrespect for
+the sex, and all that. Really, cousin, your symptoms are getting
+alarming."</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, now, Cousin Florence," said Edward, "you are a girl of moderately
+good sense, with all your nonsense. Now don't you (I know you <i>do</i>)
+think just so too?"</p>
+
+<p>"Think just so too!&mdash;do you hear the creature?" replied Florence. "No,
+sir; you can speak for yourself in this matter, but I beg leave to enter
+my protest when you speak for me too."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, now, where is there, coz, among all our circle, a young girl that
+has any sort of purpose or object in life, to speak of, except to make
+herself as interesting and agreeable as possible? to be admired, and to
+pass her time in as amusing a way as she can? Where will you find one
+between fifteen and twenty that has any serious regard for the
+improvement and best welfare of those with whom she is connected at all,
+or that modifies her conduct, in the least, with reference to it? Now,
+cousin, in very serious earnest, you have about as much real character,
+as much earnestness and depth of feeling, and as much good sense, when
+one can get at it, as any young lady of them all; and yet, on your
+conscience, can you say that you live with any sort of reference to any
+body's good, or to any thing but your own amusement and gratification?"</p>
+
+<p>"What a shocking adjuration!" replied the lady; "prefaced, too, by a
+three-story compliment. Well, being so adjured, I must think to the best
+of my ability. And now, seriously and soberly, I don't see as I am
+selfish. I do all that I have any occasion to do for any body. You know
+that we have servants to do every thing that is necessary about the
+house, so that there is no occasion for my making any display of
+housewifery excellence. And I wait on mamma if she has a headache, and
+hand papa his slippers and newspaper, and find Uncle John's spectacles
+for him twenty times a day, (no small matter, that,) and then&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But, after all, what is the object and purpose of your life?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I haven't any. I don't see how I can have any&mdash;that is, as I am
+made. Now, you know, I've none of the fussing, baby-tending,
+herb-tea-making recommendations of Aunt Sally, and divers others of the
+class commonly called <i>useful</i>. Indeed, to tell the truth, I think
+useful persons are commonly rather fussy and stupid. They are just like
+the boneset, and hoarhound, and catnip&mdash;very necessary to be raised in a
+garden, but not in the least ornamental."</p>
+
+<p>"And you charming young ladies, who philosophize in kid slippers and
+French dresses, are the tulips and roses&mdash;very charming, and delightful,
+and sweet, but fit for nothing on earth but parlor ornaments."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, parlor ornaments are good in their way," said the young lady,
+coloring, and looking a little vexed.</p>
+
+<p>"So you give up the point, then," said the gentleman, "that you girls
+are good for&mdash;just to amuse yourselves, amuse others, look pretty, and
+be agreeable."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, and if we behave well to our parents, and are amiable in the
+family&mdash;I don't know&mdash;and yet," said Florence, sighing, "I have often
+had a sort of vague idea of something higher that we might become; yet,
+really, what more than this is expected of us? what else can we do?"</p>
+
+<p>"I used to read in old-fashioned novels about ladies visiting the sick
+and the poor," replied Edward. "You remember Coelebs in Search of a
+Wife?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, truly; that is to say, I remember the story part of it, and the
+love scenes; but as for all those everlasting conversations of Dr.
+Barlow, Mr. Stanley, and nobody knows who else, I skipped those, of
+course. But really, this visiting and tending the poor, and all that,
+seems very well in a story, where the lady goes into a picturesque
+cottage, half overgrown with honeysuckle, and finds an emaciated, but
+still beautiful woman propped up by pillows. But come to the downright
+matter of fact of poking about in all these vile, dirty alleys, and
+entering little dark rooms, amid troops of grinning children, and
+smelling codfish and onions, and nobody knows what&mdash;dear me, my
+benevolence always evaporates before I get through. I'd rather pay any
+body five dollars a day to do it for me than do it myself. The fact is,
+that I have neither fancy nor nerves for this kind of thing."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, granting, then, that you can do nothing for your fellow-creatures
+unless you are to do it in the most genteel, comfortable, and
+picturesque manner possible, is there not a great field for a woman like
+you, Florence, in your influence over your associates? With your talents
+for conversation, your tact, and self-possession, and ladylike gift of
+saying any thing you choose, are you not responsible, in some wise, for
+the influence you exert over those by whom you are surrounded?"</p>
+
+<p>"I never thought of that," replied Florence.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, you remember the remarks that Mr. Fortesque made the other evening
+on the religious services at church?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I do; and I thought then he was too bad."</p>
+
+<p>"And I do not suppose there was one of you ladies in the room that did
+not think so too; but yet the matter was all passed over with smiles,
+and with not a single insinuation that he had said any thing unpleasing
+or disagreeable."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what could we do? One does not want to be rude, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Do! Could you not, Florence, you who have always taken the lead in
+society, and who have been noted for always being able to say and do
+what you please&mdash;could you not have shown him that those remarks were
+unpleasing to you, as decidedly as you certainly would have done if they
+had related to the character of your father or brother? To my mind, a
+woman of true moral feeling should consider herself as much insulted
+when her religion is treated with contempt as if the contempt were shown
+to herself. Do you not <i>know</i> the power which is given to you women to
+awe and restrain us in your presence, and to guard the sacredness of
+things which you treat as holy? Believe me, Florence, that Fortesque,
+infidel as he is, would reverence a woman with whom he dared not trifle
+on sacred subjects."</p>
+
+<p>Florence rose from her seat with a heightened color, her dark eyes
+brightening through tears.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure what you say is just, cousin, and yet I have never thought of
+it before. I will&mdash;I am determined to begin, after this, to live with
+some better purpose than I have done."</p>
+
+<p>"And let me tell you, Florence, in starting a new course, as in learning
+to walk, taking the first step is every thing. Now, I have a first step
+to propose to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, cousin&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you know, I suppose, that among your train of adorers you number
+Colonel Elliot?"</p>
+
+<p>Florence smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"And perhaps you do not know, what is certainly true, that, among the
+most discerning and cool part of his friends, Elliot is considered as a
+lost man."</p>
+
+<p>"Good Heavens! Edward, what do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Simply this: that with all his brilliant talents, his amiable and
+generous feelings, and his success in society, Elliot has not
+self-control enough to prevent his becoming confirmed in intemperate
+habits."</p>
+
+<p>"I never dreamed of this," replied Florence. "I knew that he was
+spirited and free, fond of society, and excitable; but never suspected
+any thing beyond."</p>
+
+<p>"Elliot has tact enough never to appear in ladies' society when he is
+not in a fit state for it," replied Edward; "but yet it is so."</p>
+
+<p>"But is he really so bad?"</p>
+
+<p>"He stands just on the verge, Florence; just where a word fitly spoken
+might turn him. He is a noble creature, full of all sorts of fine
+impulses and feelings; the only son of a mother who dotes on him, the
+idolized brother of sisters who love him as you love your brother,
+Florence; and he stands where a word, a look&mdash;so they be of the right
+kind&mdash;might save him."</p>
+
+<p>"And why, then, do you not speak to him?" said Florence.</p>
+
+<p>"Because I am not the best person, Florence. There is another who can do
+it better; one whom he admires, who stands in a position which would
+forbid his feeling angry; a person, cousin, whom I have heard in gayer
+moments say that she knew how to say any thing she pleased without
+offending any body."</p>
+
+<p>"O Edward!" said Florence, coloring; "do not bring up my foolish
+speeches against me, and do not speak as if I ought to interfere in this
+matter, for indeed I cannot do it. I never could in the world, I am
+certain I could not."</p>
+
+<p>"And so," said Edward, "you, whom I have heard say so many things which
+no one else could say, or dared to say&mdash;you, who have gone on with your
+laughing assurance in your own powers of pleasing, shrink from trying
+that power when a noble and generous heart might be saved by it. You
+have been willing to venture a great deal for the sake of amusing
+yourself and winning admiration; but you dare not say a word for any
+high or noble purpose. Do you not see how you confirm what I said of the
+selfishness of you women?"</p>
+
+<p>"But you must remember, Edward, this is a matter of great delicacy."</p>
+
+<p>"That word <i>delicacy</i> is a charming cover-all in all these cases,
+Florence. Now, here is a fine, noble-spirited young man, away from his
+mother and sisters, away from any family friend who might care for him,
+tempted, betrayed, almost to ruin, and a few words from you, said as a
+woman knows how to say them, might be his salvation. But you will coldly
+look on and see him go to destruction, because you have too much
+<i>delicacy</i> to make the effort&mdash;like the man that would not help his
+neighbor out of the water because he had never had the honor of an
+<i>introduction</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Edward, consider how peculiarly fastidious Elliot is&mdash;how jealous
+of any attempt to restrain and guide him."</p>
+
+<p>"And just for that reason it is that <i>men</i> of his acquaintance cannot do
+any thing with him. But what are you women made with so much tact and
+power of charming for, if it is not to do these very things that we
+cannot do? It is a delicate matter&mdash;true; and has not Heaven given to
+you a fine touch and a fine eye for just such delicate matters? Have you
+not seen, a thousand times, that what might be resented as an
+impertinent interference on the part of a man, comes to us as a
+flattering expression of interest from the lips of a woman?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, but, cousin, what would you have me do? How would you have me do
+it?" said Florence, earnestly.</p>
+
+<p>"You know that Fashion, which makes so many wrong turns, and so many
+absurd ones, has at last made one good one, and it is now a fashionable
+thing to sign the temperance pledge. Elliot himself would be glad to do
+it, but he foolishly committed himself against it in the outset, and now
+feels bound to stand to his opinion. He has, too, been rather rudely
+assailed by some of the apostles of the new state of things, who did not
+understand the peculiar points of his character; in short, I am afraid
+that he will feel bound to go to destruction for the sake of supporting
+his own opinion. Now, if I should undertake with him, he might shoot me;
+but I hardly think there is any thing of the sort to be apprehended in
+your case. Just try your enchantments; you have bewitched wise men into
+doing foolish things before now; try, now, if you can't bewitch a
+foolish man into doing a wise thing."</p>
+
+<p>Florence smiled archly, but instantly grew more thoughtful.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, cousin," she said, "I will try. Though you are liberal in your
+ascriptions of power, yet I can put the matter to the test of
+experiment."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Florence Elmore was, at the time we speak of, in her twentieth year.
+Born of one of the wealthiest families in &mdash;&mdash;, highly educated and
+accomplished, idolized by her parents and brothers, she had entered the
+world as one born to command. With much native nobleness and magnanimity
+of character, with warm and impulsive feelings, and a capability of
+every thing high or great, she had hitherto lived solely for her own
+amusement, and looked on the whole brilliant circle by which she was
+surrounded, with all its various actors, as something got up for her
+special diversion. The idea of influencing any one, for better or worse,
+by any thing she ever said or did, had never occurred to her. The crowd
+of admirers of the other sex, who, as a matter of course, were always
+about her, she regarded as so many sources of diversion; but the idea of
+feeling any sympathy with them as human beings, or of making use of her
+power over them for their improvement, was one that had never entered
+her head.</p>
+
+<p>Edward Ashton was an old bachelor cousin of Florence's, who, having
+earned the title of oddity, in general society, availed himself of it to
+exercise a turn for telling the truth to the various young ladies of his
+acquaintance, especially to his fair cousin Florence. We remark, by the
+by, that these privileged truth tellers are quite a necessary of life to
+young ladies in the full tide of society, and we really think it would
+be worth while for every dozen of them to unite to keep a person of this
+kind on a salary, for the benefit of the whole. However, that is nothing
+to our present purpose; we must return to our fair heroine, whom we
+left, at the close of the last conversation, standing in deep revery, by
+the window.</p>
+
+<p>"It's more than half true," she said to herself&mdash;"more than half. Here
+am I, twenty years old, and never have thought of any thing, never done
+any thing, except to amuse and gratify myself; no purpose, no object;
+nothing high, nothing dignified, nothing worth living for! Only a parlor
+ornament&mdash;heigh ho! Well, I really do believe I could do something with
+this Elliot; and yet how dare I try?"</p>
+
+<p>Now, my good readers, if you are anticipating a love story, we must
+hasten to put in our disclaimer; you are quite mistaken in the case. Our
+fair, brilliant heroine was, at this time of speaking, as heart-whole as
+the diamond on her bosom, which reflected the light in too many
+sparkling rays ever to absorb it. She had, to be sure, half in earnest,
+half in jest, maintained a bantering, platonic sort of friendship with
+George Elliot. She had danced, ridden, sung, and sketched with him; but
+so had she with twenty other young men; and as to coming to any thing
+tender with such a quick, brilliant, restless creature, Elliot would as
+soon have undertaken to sentimentalize over a glass of soda water. No;
+there was decidedly no love in the case.</p>
+
+<p>"What a curious ring that is!" said Elliot to her, a day or two after,
+as they were reading together.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a knight's ring," said she, playfully, as she drew it off and
+pointed to a coral cross set in the gold, "a ring of the red-cross
+knights. Come, now, I've a great mind to bind you to my service with
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"Do, lady fair," said Elliot, stretching out his hand for the ring.</p>
+
+<p>"Know, then," said she, "if you take this pledge, that you must obey
+whatever commands I lay upon you in its name."</p>
+
+<p>"I swear!" said Elliot, in the mock heroic, and placed the ring on his
+finger.</p>
+
+<p>An evening or two after, Elliot attended Florence to a party at Mrs.
+B.'s. Every thing was gay and brilliant, and there was no lack either of
+wit or wine. Elliot was standing in a little alcove, spread with
+refreshments, with a glass of wine in his hand. "I forbid it; the cup is
+poisoned!" said a voice in his ear. He turned quickly, and Florence was
+at his side. Every one was busy, with laughing and talking, around, and
+nobody saw the sudden start and flush that these words produced, as
+Elliot looked earnestly in the lady's face. She smiled, and pointed
+playfully to the ring; but after all, there was in her face an
+expression of agitation and interest which she could not repress, and
+Elliot felt, however playful the manner, that she was <i>in earnest</i>; and
+as she glided away in the crowd, he stood with his arms folded, and his
+eyes fixed on the spot where she disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it possible that I am suspected&mdash;that there are things said of me as
+if I were in danger?" were the first thoughts that flashed through his
+mind. How strange that a man may appear doomed, given up, and lost, to
+the eye of every looker on, before he begins to suspect himself! This
+was the first time that any defined apprehension of loss of character
+had occurred to Elliot, and he was startled as if from a dream.</p>
+
+<p>"What the deuse is the matter with you, Elliot? You look as solemn as a
+hearse!" said a young man near by.</p>
+
+<p>"Has Miss Elmore cut you?" said another.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, man, have a glass," said a third.</p>
+
+<p>"Let him alone&mdash;he's bewitched," said a fourth. "I saw the spell laid on
+him. None of us can say but our turn may come next."</p>
+
+<p>An hour later, that evening, Florence was talking with her usual spirit
+to a group who were collected around her, when, suddenly looking up, she
+saw Elliot, standing in an abstracted manner, at one of the windows that
+looked out into the balcony.</p>
+
+<p>"He is offended, I dare say," she thought; "but what do I care? For once
+in my life I have tried to do a right thing&mdash;a good thing. I have risked
+giving offence for less than this, many a time." Still, Florence could
+not but feel tremulous, when, a few moments after, Elliot approached her
+and offered his arm for a promenade. They walked up and down the room,
+she talking volubly, and he answering yes and no, till at length, as if
+by accident, he drew her into the balcony which overhung the garden. The
+moon was shining brightly, and every thing without, in its placid
+quietness, contrasted strangely with the busy, hurrying scene within.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Elmore," said Elliot, abruptly, "may I ask you, sincerely, had you
+any design in a remark you made to me in the early part of the evening?"</p>
+
+<p>Florence paused, and though habitually the most practised and
+self-possessed of women, the color actually receded from her cheek, as
+she answered,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Mr. Elliot; I must confess that I had."</p>
+
+<p>"And is it possible, then, that you have heard any thing?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have heard, Mr. Elliot, that which makes me tremble for you, and for
+those whose life, I know, is bound up in you; and, tell me, were it well
+or friendly in me to know that such things were said, that such danger
+existed, and not to warn you of it?"</p>
+
+<p>Elliot stood for a few moments in silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Have I offended? Have I taken too great a liberty?" said Florence,
+gently.</p>
+
+<p>Hitherto Elliot had only seen in Florence the self-possessed, assured,
+light-hearted woman of fashion; but there was a reality and depth of
+feeling in the few words she had spoken to him, in this interview, that
+opened to him entirely a new view in her character.</p>
+
+<p>"No, Miss Elmore," replied he, earnestly, after some pause; "I may be
+<i>pained</i>, offended I cannot be. To tell the truth, I have been
+thoughtless, excited, dazzled; my spirits, naturally buoyant, have
+carried me, often, too far; and lately I have painfully suspected my own
+powers of resistance. I have really felt that I needed help, but have
+been too proud to confess, even to myself, that I needed it. You, Miss
+Elmore, have done what, perhaps, no one else could have done. I am
+overwhelmed with gratitude, and I shall bless you for it to the latest
+day of my life. I am ready to pledge myself to any thing you may ask on
+this subject."</p>
+
+<p>"Then," said Florence, "do not shrink from doing what is safe, and
+necessary, and right for you to do, because you have once said you would
+not do it. You understand me."</p>
+
+<p>"Precisely," replied Elliot: "and you shall be obeyed."</p>
+
+<p>It was not more than a week before the news was circulated that even
+George Elliot had signed the pledge of temperance. There was much
+wondering at this sudden turn among those who had known his utter
+repugnance to any measure of the kind, and the extent to which he had
+yielded to temptation; but few knew how fine and delicate had been the
+touch to which his pride had yielded.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="ART_AND_NATURE" id="ART_AND_NATURE"></a>ART AND NATURE.</h2>
+
+
+<p>"Now, girls," said Mrs. Ellis Grey to her daughters, "here is a letter
+from George Somers, and he is to be down here next week; so I give you
+fair warning."</p>
+
+<p>"Warning?" said Fanny Grey, looking up from her embroidery; "what do you
+mean by that, mamma?"</p>
+
+<p>"Now that's just you, Fanny," said the elder sister, laughing. "You dear
+little simplicity, you can never understand any thing unless it is
+stated as definitely as the multiplication table."</p>
+
+<p>"But we need no warning in the case of Cousin George, I'm sure," said
+Fanny.</p>
+
+<p>"Cousin George, to be sure! Do you hear the little innocent?" said
+Isabella, the second sister. "I suppose, Fanny, you never heard that he
+had been visiting all the courts of Europe, seeing all the fine women,
+stone, picture, and real, that are to be found. Such an <i>amateur</i> and
+<i>connoisseur</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"Besides having received a fortune of a million or so," said Emma. "I
+dare say now, Fanny, you thought he was coming home to make dandelion
+chains, and play with button balls, as he used to do when he was a
+little boy."</p>
+
+<p>"Fanny will never take the world as it is," said Mrs. Grey. "I do
+believe she will be a child as long as she lives." Mrs. Grey said this
+as if she were sighing over some radical defect in the mind of her
+daughter, and the delicate cheek of Fanny showed a tint somewhat deeper
+as she spoke, and she went on with her embroidery in silence.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grey had been left, by the death of her husband, sole guardian of
+the three girls whose names have appeared on the page. She was an
+active, busy, ambitious woman, one of the sort for whom nothing is ever
+finished enough, or perfect enough, without a few touches, and dashes,
+and emendations; and, as such people always make a mighty affair of
+education, Mrs. Grey had made it a life's enterprise to order, adjust,
+and settle the character of her daughters; and when we use the word
+<i>character</i>, as Mrs. Grey understood it, we mean it to include both
+face, figure, dress, accomplishments, as well as those more unessential
+items, mind and heart.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grey had determined that her daughters should be something
+altogether out of the common way; and accordingly she had conducted the
+training of the two eldest with such zeal and effect, that every trace
+of an original character was thoroughly educated out of them. All their
+opinions, feelings, words, and actions, instead of gushing naturally
+from their hearts, were, according to the most approved authority,
+diligently compared and revised. Emma, the eldest, was an imposing,
+showy girl, of some considerable talent, and she had been assiduously
+trained to make a sensation as a woman of ability and intellect. Her
+mind had been filled with information on all sorts of subjects, much
+faster than she had power to digest or employ it; and the standard which
+her ambitious mother had set for her being rather above the range of her
+abilities, there was a constant sensation of effort in her keeping up to
+it. In hearing her talk you were constantly reminded, "I am a woman of
+intellect&mdash;I am entirely above the ordinary level of woman;" and on all
+subjects she was so anxiously and laboriously, well and
+circumstantially, informed, that it was enough to make one's head ache
+to hear her talk.</p>
+
+<p>Isabella, the second daughter, was, <i>par excellence</i>, a beauty&mdash;a tall,
+sparkling, Cleopatra-looking girl, whose rich color, dazzling eyes, and
+superb figure might have bid defiance to art to furnish an extra charm;
+nevertheless, each grace had been as indefatigably drilled and
+manoeuvred as the members of an artillery company. Eyes, lips,
+eyelashes, all had their lesson; and every motion of her sculptured
+limbs, every intonation of her silvery voice, had been studied,
+considered, and corrected, till even her fastidious mother could discern
+nothing that was wanting. Then were added all the graces of <i>belles
+lettres</i>&mdash;all the approved rules of being delighted with music,
+painting, and poetry&mdash;and last of all came the tour of the continent;
+travelling being generally considered a sort of pumice stone, for
+rubbing down the varnish, and giving the very last touch to character.</p>
+
+<p>During the time that all this was going on, Miss Fanny, whom we now
+declare our heroine, had been growing up in the quietude of her mother's
+country seat, and growing, as girls are apt to, much faster than her
+mother imagined. She was a fair, slender girl, with a purity and
+simplicity of appearance, which, if it be not in itself beauty, had all
+the best effect of beauty, in interesting and engaging the heart.</p>
+
+<p>She looked not so much beautiful as lovable. Her character was in
+precise correspondence with her appearance; its first and chief element
+was feeling; and to this add fancy, fervor, taste, enthusiasm almost up
+to the point of genius, and just common sense enough to keep them all in
+order, and you will have a very good idea of the mind of Fanny Grey.</p>
+
+<p>Delightfully passed the days with Fanny during the absence of her
+mother, while, without thought of rule or compass, she sang her own
+songs, painted flowers, and sketched landscapes from nature, visited
+sociably all over the village, where she was a great favorite, ran about
+through the fields, over fences, or in the woods with her little cottage
+bonnet, and, above all, built her own little castles in the air without
+any body to help pull them down, which we think about the happiest
+circumstance in her situation.</p>
+
+<p>But affairs wore a very different aspect when Mrs. Grey with her
+daughters returned from Europe, as full of foreign tastes and notions as
+people of an artificial character generally do return.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Fanny was deluged with a torrent of new ideas; she heard of styles
+of appearance and styles of beauty, styles of manner and styles of
+conversation, this, that, and the other air, a general effect and a
+particular effect, and of four hundred and fifty ways of producing an
+impression&mdash;in short, it seemed to her that people ought to be of
+wonderful consequence to have so many things to think and to say about
+the how and why of every word and action.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grey, who had no manner of doubt of her own ability to make over a
+character, undertook the point with Fanny as systematically as one would
+undertake to make over an old dress. Poor Fanny, who had an
+unconquerable aversion to trying on dresses or settling points in
+millinery, went through with most exemplary meekness an entire
+transformation as to all externals; but when Mrs. Grey set herself at
+work upon her mind, and tastes, and opinions, the matter became somewhat
+more serious; for the buoyant feeling and fanciful elements of her
+character were as incapable of being arranged according to rule as the
+sparkling water drops are of being strung into necklaces and earrings,
+or the gay clouds of being made into artificial flowers. Some warm
+natural desire or taste of her own was forever interfering with her
+mother's <i>régime</i>; some obstinate little "Fannyism" would always put up
+its head in defiance of received custom; and, as her mother and sisters
+pathetically remarked, do what you would with her, she would always come
+out herself after all.</p>
+
+<p>After trying laboriously to conform to the pattern which was daily set
+before her, she came at last to the conclusion that some natural
+inferiority must forever prevent her aspiring to accomplish any thing in
+that way.</p>
+
+<p>"If I can't be what my mother wishes, I'll at least be myself," said she
+one day to her sisters, "for if I try to alter I shall neither be myself
+nor any body else;" and on the whole her mother and sisters came to the
+same conclusion. And in truth they found it a very convenient thing to
+have one in the family who was not studying effect or aspiring to be any
+thing in particular.</p>
+
+<p>It was very agreeable to Mrs. Grey to have a daughter to sit with her
+when she had the sick headache, while the other girls were entertaining
+company in the drawing room below. It was very convenient to her sisters
+to have some one whose dress took so little time that she had always a
+head and a pair of hands at their disposal, in case of any toilet
+emergency. Then she was always loving and affectionate, entirely willing
+to be outtalked and outshone on every occasion; and that was another
+advantage.</p>
+
+<p>As to Isabella and Emma, the sensation that they made in society was
+enough to have gratified a dozen ordinary belles. All that they said,
+and did, and wore, was instant and unquestionable precedent; and young
+gentlemen, all starch and perfume, twirled their laced pocket
+handkerchiefs, and declared on their honor that they knew not which was
+the most overcoming, the genius and wit of Miss Emma, or the bright eyes
+of Miss Isabella; though it was an agreed point that between them both,
+not a heart in the gay world remained in its owner's possession&mdash;a thing
+which might have a serious sound to one who did not know the character
+of these articles, often the most trifling item in the inventory of
+worldly possessions. And all this while, all that was said of our
+heroine was something in this way: "I believe there is another
+sister&mdash;is there not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, there is a quiet little blue-eyed lady, who never has a word to
+say for herself&mdash;quite amiable I'm told."</p>
+
+<p>Now, it was not a fact that Miss Fanny never had a word to say for
+herself. If people had seen her on a visit at any one of the houses
+along the little green street of her native village, they might have
+learned that her tongue could go fast enough.</p>
+
+<p>But in lighted drawing rooms, and among buzzing voices, and surrounded
+by people who were always saying things because such things were proper
+to be said, Fanny was always dizzy, and puzzled, and unready; and for
+fear that she would say something that she should not, she concluded to
+say nothing at all; nevertheless, she made good use of her eyes, and
+found a very quiet amusement in looking on to see how other people
+conducted matters.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Well, Mr. George Somers is actually arrived at Mrs. Grey's country seat,
+and there he sits with Miss Isabella in the deep recess of that window,
+where the white roses are peeping in so modestly.</p>
+
+<p>"To be sure," thought Fanny to herself, as she quietly surveyed him
+looming up through the shade of a pair of magnificent whiskers, and
+heard him passing the shuttlecock of compliment back and forth with the
+most assured and practised air in the world,&mdash;"to be sure, I was a child
+in imagining that I should see Cousin George Somers. I'm sure this
+magnificent young gentleman, full of all utterance and knowledge, is not
+the cousin that I used to feel so easy with; no, indeed;" and Fanny gave
+a half sigh, and then went out into the garden to water her geraniums.</p>
+
+<p>For some days Mr. Somers seemed to feel put upon his reputation to
+sustain the character of gallant, <i>savant, connoisseur</i>, etc.., which
+every one who makes the tour of the continent is expected to bring home
+as a matter of course; for there is seldom a young gentleman who knows
+he has qualifications in this line, who can resist the temptation of
+showing what he can do. Accordingly he discussed tragedies, and reviews,
+and ancient and modern customs with Miss Emma; and with Miss Isabella
+retouched her drawings and exhibited his own; sported the most choice
+and <i>recherché</i> style of compliment at every turn, and, in short,
+flattered himself, perhaps justly, that he was playing the irresistible
+in a manner quite equal to that of his fair cousins.</p>
+
+<p>Now, all this while Miss Fanny was mistaken in one point, for Mr. George
+Somers, though an exceedingly fine gentleman, had, after all, quite a
+substratum of reality about him, of real heart, real feeling, and real
+opinion of his own; and the consequence was, that when tired of the
+effort of <i>conversing</i> he really longed to find somebody to <i>talk</i> to;
+and in this mood he one evening strolled into the library, leaving the
+gay party in the drawing room to themselves. Miss Fanny was there, quite
+intent upon a book of selections from the old English poets.</p>
+
+<p>"Really, Miss Fanny," said Mr. Somers, "you are very sparing of the
+favor of your company to us this evening."</p>
+
+<p>"O, I presume my company is not much missed," said Fanny, with a smile.</p>
+
+<p>"You must have a poor opinion of our taste, then," said Mr. Somers.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, come, Mr. Somers," replied Fanny, "you forget the person you are
+talking to; it is not at all necessary for you to compliment me; nobody
+ever does&mdash;so you may feel relieved of that trouble."</p>
+
+<p>"Nobody ever does, Miss Fanny; pray, how is that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because I'm not the sort of person to say such things to."</p>
+
+<p>"And pray, what sort of person ought one to be, in order to have such
+things said?" replied Mr. Somers.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, like Sister Isabella, or like Emma. You understand I am a sort of
+little nobody; if any one wastes fine words on me, I never know what to
+make of them."</p>
+
+<p>"And pray, what must one say to you?" said Mr. Somers, quite amused.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, what they really think and really feel; and I am always puzzled by
+any thing else."</p>
+
+<p>Accordingly, about a half an hour afterwards, you might have seen the
+much admired Mr. Somers once more transformed into the Cousin George,
+and he and Fanny engaged in a very interesting <i>tête-à-tête</i> about old
+times and things.</p>
+
+<p>Now, you may skip across a fortnight from this evening, and then look in
+at the same old library, just as the setting sun is looking in at its
+western window, and you will see Fanny sitting back a little in the
+shadow, with one straggling ray of light illuminating her pure childish
+face, and she is looking up at Mr. George Somers, as if in some sudden
+perplexity; and, dear me, if we are not mistaken, our young gentleman is
+blushing.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Cousin George," says the lady, "what <i>do</i> you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"I thought I spoke plainly enough, Fanny," replied Cousin George, in a
+tone that <i>might</i> have made the matter plain enough, to be sure.</p>
+
+<p>Fanny laughed outright, and the gentleman looked terribly serious.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, now, don't be angry," said she, as he turned away with a vexed
+and mortified air; "indeed, now, I can't help laughing, it seems to me
+so odd; what <i>will</i> they all think of you?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's of no consequence to me what they think," said Mr. Somers. "I
+think, Fanny, if you had the heart I gave you credit for, you might have
+seen my feelings before now."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, do sit down, my <i>dear</i> cousin," said Fanny, earnestly, drawing him
+into a chair, "and tell me, how could I, poor little Miss Fanny Nobody,
+how <i>could</i> I have thought any such thing with such sisters as I have? I
+did think that you <i>liked</i> me, that you knew more of my real feelings
+than mamma and sisters; but that you should&mdash;that you ever should&mdash;why,
+I am astonished that you did not fall in love with Isabella."</p>
+
+<p>"That would have met your feelings, then?" said George, eagerly, and
+looking as if he would have looked through her, eyes, soul, and all.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, indeed," she said, turning away her head; "but," added she,
+quickly, "you'll lose all your credit for good taste. Now, tell me,
+seriously, what do you like me for?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, Fanny, I can give you the best reason. I like you for being
+a real, sincere, natural girl&mdash;for being simple in your tastes, and
+simple in your appearance, and simple in your manners, and for having
+heart enough left, as I hope, to love plain George Somers, with all his
+faults, and not Mr. Somers's reputation, or Mr. Somers's establishment."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, this is all very reasonable to me, of course," said Fanny, "but
+it will be so much Greek to poor mamma."</p>
+
+<p>"I dare say your mother could never understand how seeing the very acme
+of cultivation in all countries should have really made my eyes ache,
+and long for something as simple as green grass or pure water, to rest
+them on. I came down here to find it among my cousins, and I found in
+your sisters only just such women as I have seen and admired all over
+Europe, till I was tired of admiring. Your mother has achieved what she
+aimed at, perfectly; I know of no circle that could produce higher
+specimens; but it is all art, triumphant art, after all, and I have so
+strong a current of natural feeling running through my heart that I
+could never be happy except with a fresh, simple, impulsive character."</p>
+
+<p>"Like me, you are going to say," said Fanny, laughing. "Well, <i>I'll</i>
+admit that you are right. It would be a pity that you should not have
+one vote, at least."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHILDREN" id="CHILDREN"></a>CHILDREN.</h2>
+
+<p>"A little child shall lead them."</p>
+
+
+<p>One cold market morning I looked into a milliner's shop, and there I saw
+a hale, hearty, well-browned young fellow from the country, with his
+long cart whip, and lion-shag coat, holding up some little matter, and
+turning it about on his great fist. And what do you suppose it was? <i>A
+baby's bonnet!</i> A little, soft, blue satin hood, with a swan's down
+border, white as the new-fallen snow, with a frill of rich blonde around
+the edge.</p>
+
+<p>By his side stood a very pretty woman, holding, with no small pride, the
+baby&mdash;for evidently it was <i>the</i> baby. Any one could read that fact in
+every glance, as they looked at each other, and then at the large,
+unconscious eyes, and fat, dimpled cheeks of the little one.</p>
+
+<p>It was evident that neither of them had ever seen a baby like that
+before.</p>
+
+<p>"But really, Mary," said the young man, "isn't three dollars very high?"</p>
+
+<p>Mary very prudently said nothing, but taking the little bonnet, tied it
+on the little head, and held up the baby. The man looked, and without
+another word down went the three dollars&mdash;all the avails of last week's
+butter; and as they walked out of the shop, it is hard to say which
+looked the most delighted with the bargain.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," thought I, "a little child shall lead them."</p>
+
+<p>Another day, as I was passing a carriage factory along one of our
+principal back streets, I saw a young mechanic at work on a wheel. The
+rough body of a carriage stood beside him, and there, wrapped up snugly,
+all hooded and cloaked, sat a little dark-eyed girl, about a year old,
+playing with a great, shaggy dog. As I stopped, the man looked up from
+his work, and turned admiringly towards his little companion, as much as
+to say, "See what I have got here!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," thought I; "and if the little lady ever gets a glance from
+admiring swains as sincere as that, she will be lucky."</p>
+
+<p>Ah, these children, little witches, pretty even in all their faults and
+absurdities. See, for example, yonder little fellow in a naughty fit. He
+has shaken his long curls over his deep-blue eyes; the fair brow is bent
+in a frown, the rose leaf lip is pursed up in infinite defiance, and the
+white shoulder thrust angrily forward. Can any but a child look so
+pretty, even in its naughtiness?</p>
+
+<p>Then comes the instant change; flashing smiles and tears, as the good
+comes back all in a rush, and you are overwhelmed with protestations,
+promises, and kisses! They are irresistible, too, these little ones.
+They pull away the scholar's pen, tumble about his paper, make somersets
+over his books; and what can he do? They tear up newspapers, litter the
+carpets, break, pull, and upset, and then jabber unheard-of English in
+self-defence; and what can you do for yourself?</p>
+
+<p>"If I had a child," says the precise man, "you should see."</p>
+
+<p>He <i>does</i> have a child, and his child tears up his papers, tumbles over
+his things, and pulls his nose, like all other children; and what has
+the precise man to say for himself? Nothing; he is like every body else;
+"a little child shall lead him."</p>
+
+<p>The hardened heart of the worldly man is unlocked by the guileless tones
+and simple caresses of his son; but he repays it in time, by imparting
+to his boy all the crooked tricks and callous maxims which have undone
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>Go to the jail, to the penitentiary, and find there the wretch most
+sullen, brutal, and hardened. Then look at your infant son. Such as he
+is to you, such to some mother was this man. That hard hand was soft and
+delicate; that rough voice was tender and lisping; fond eyes followed
+him as he played, and he was rocked and cradled as something holy. There
+was a time when his heart, soft and unworn, might have opened to
+questionings of God and Jesus, and been sealed with the seal of Heaven.
+But harsh hands seized it; fierce goblin lineaments were impressed upon
+it; and all is over with him forever!</p>
+
+<p>So of the tender, weeping child is made the callous, heartless man; of
+the all-believing child, the sneering sceptic; of the beautiful and
+modest, the shameless and abandoned; and this is what <i>the world</i> does
+for the little one.</p>
+
+<p>There was a time when the <i>divine One</i> stood on earth, and little
+children sought to draw near to him. But harsh human beings stood
+between him and them, forbidding their approach. Ah, has it not always
+been so? Do not even we, with our hard and unsubdued feelings, our
+worldly and unspiritual habits and maxims, stand like a dark screen
+between our little child and its Savior, and keep even from the choice
+bud of our hearts the sweet radiance which might unfold it for Paradise?
+"Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not," is still
+the voice of the Son of God; but the cold world still closes around and
+forbids. When, of old, disciples would question their Lord of the higher
+mysteries of his kingdom, he took a little child and set him in the
+midst, as a sign of him who should be greatest in heaven. That gentle
+teacher remains still to us. By every hearth and fireside Jesus still
+<i>sets the little child in the midst of us</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Wouldst thou know, O parent, what is that <i>faith</i> which unlocks heaven?
+Go not to wrangling polemics, or creeds and forms of theology, but draw
+to thy bosom thy little one, and read in that clear, trusting eye the
+lesson of eternal life. Be only to thy God as thy child is to thee, and
+all is done. Blessed shalt thou be, indeed, "<i>when a little child shall
+lead thee</i>."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="HOW_TO_MAKE_FRIENDS_WITH_MAMMON" id="HOW_TO_MAKE_FRIENDS_WITH_MAMMON"></a>HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS WITH MAMMON.</h2>
+
+
+<p>It was four o'clock in the afternoon of a dull winter day that Mr. H.
+sat in his counting room. The sun had nearly gone down, and, in fact, it
+was already twilight beneath the shadows of the tall, dusky stores, and
+the close, crooked streets of that quarter of Boston. Hardly light
+enough struggled through the dusky panes of the counting house for him
+to read the entries in a much-thumbed memorandum book, which he held in
+his hand.</p>
+
+<p>A small, thin boy, with a pale face and anxious expression, significant
+of delicacy of constitution, and a too early acquaintance with want and
+sorrow, was standing by him, earnestly watching his motions.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, yes, my boy," said Mr. H., as he at last shut up the memorandum
+book. "Yes, I've got the place now; I'm apt to be forgetful about these
+things; come, now, let's go. How is it? Haven't you brought the basket?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir," said the boy, timidly. "The grocer said he'd let mother have
+a quarter for it, and she thought she'd sell it."</p>
+
+<p>"That's bad," said Mr. H., as he went on, tying his throat with a long
+comforter of some yards in extent; and as he continued this operation he
+abstractedly repeated, "That's bad, that's bad," till the poor little
+boy looked quite dismayed, and began to think that somehow his mother
+had been dreadfully out of the way.</p>
+
+<p>"She didn't want to send for help so long as she had any thing she could
+sell," said the little boy in a deprecating tone.</p>
+
+<p>"O, yes, quite right," said Mr. H., taking from a pigeon hole in the
+desk a large pocket book, and beginning to turn it over; and, as before,
+abstractedly repeating, "Quite right, quite right?" till the little boy
+became reassured, and began to think, although he didn't know why, that
+his mother had done something quite meritorious.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Mr. H., after he had taken several bills from the pocket
+book and transferred them to a wallet which he put into his pocket, "now
+we're ready, my boy." But first he stopped to lock up his desk, and then
+he said, abstractedly to himself, "I wonder if I hadn't better take a
+few tracts."</p>
+
+<p>Now, it is to be confessed that this Mr. H., whom we have introduced to
+our reader, was, in his way, quite an oddity. He had a number of
+singular little <i>penchants</i> and peculiarities quite his own, such as a
+passion for poking about among dark alleys, at all sorts of seasonable
+and unseasonable hours; fishing out troops of dirty, neglected children,
+and fussing about generally in the community till he could get them into
+schools or otherwise provided for. He always had in his pocket book a
+note of some dozen poor widows who wanted tea, sugar, candles, or other
+things such as poor widows always will be wanting. And then he had a
+most extraordinary talent for finding out all the sick strangers that
+lay in out-of-the-way upper rooms in hotels, who, every body knows, have
+no business to get sick in such places, unless they have money enough to
+pay their expenses, which they never do.</p>
+
+<p>Besides this, all Mr. H.'s kinsmen and cousins, to the third, fourth,
+and fortieth remove, were always writing him letters, which, among other
+pleasing items, generally contained the intelligence that a few hundred
+dollars were just then exceedingly necessary to save them from utter
+ruin, and they knew of nobody else to whom to look for it.</p>
+
+<p>And then Mr. H. was up to his throat in subscriptions to every
+charitable society that ever was made or imagined; had a hand in
+building all the churches within a hundred miles; occasionally gave four
+or five thousand dollars to a college; offered to be one of six to raise
+ten thousand dollars for some benevolent purpose, and when four of the
+six backed out, quietly paid the balance himself, and said no more about
+it. Another of his innocent fancies was to keep always about him any
+quantity of tracts and good books, little and big, for children and
+grown-up people, which he generally diffused in a kind of gentle shower
+about him wherever he moved.</p>
+
+<p>So great was his monomania for benevolence that it could not at all
+confine itself to the streets of Boston, the circle of his relatives, or
+even the United States of America. Mr. H. was fully posted up in the
+affairs of India, Burmah, China, and all those odd, out-of-the-way
+places, which no sensible man ever thinks of with any interest, unless
+he can make some money there; and money, it is to be confessed, Mr. H.
+didn't make there, though he spent an abundance. For getting up printing
+presses in Ceylon for Chinese type, for boxes of clothing and what not
+to be sent to the Sandwich Islands, for school books for the Greeks, and
+all other nonsense of that sort, Mr. H. was without a parallel. No
+wonder his rich brother merchants sometimes thought him something of a
+bore, since, his heart being full of all these matters, he was rather
+apt to talk about them, and sometimes to endeavor to draw them into
+fellowship, to an extent that was not to be thought of.</p>
+
+<p>So it came to pass often, that though Mr. H. was a thriving business
+man, with some ten thousand a year, he often wore a pretty threadbare
+coat, the seams whereof would be trimmed with lines of white; and he
+would sometimes need several pretty plain hints on the subject of a new
+hat before he would think he could afford one. Now, it is to be
+confessed the world is not always grateful to those who thus devote
+themselves to its interests; and Mr. H. had as much occasion to know
+this as any other man. People got so used to his giving, that his bounty
+became as common and as necessary as that of a higher Benefactor, "who
+maketh his sun to rise upon the evil and the good, and sendeth rain upon
+the just and the unjust;" and so it came to pass that people took them,
+as they do the sunshine and the rain, quite as matters of course, not
+thinking much about them when they came, but particularly apt to scold
+when they did not come.</p>
+
+<p>But Mr. H. never cared for that. He did not give for gratitude; he did
+not give for thanks, nor to have his name published in the papers as one
+of six who had given fifty thousand to do so and so; but he gave because
+it was <i>in</i> him to give, and we all know that it is an old rule in
+medicine, as well as morals, that what is <i>in</i> a man must be brought
+out. Then, again, he had heard it reported that there had been One of
+distinguished authority who had expressed the opinion that it was "<i>more
+blessed to give than to receive</i>," and he very much believed
+it&mdash;believed it because the One who said it must have known, since for
+man's sake <i>he</i> once gave away <span class="smcap">all</span>.</p>
+
+<p>And so, when some thriftless, distant relation, whose debts he had paid
+a dozen times over, gave him an overhauling on the subject of
+liberality, and seemed inclined to take him by the throat for further
+charity, he calmed himself down by a chapter or two from the New
+Testament and half a dozen hymns, and then sent him a good, brotherly
+letter of admonition and counsel, with a bank note to enforce it; and
+when some querulous old woman, who had had a tenement of him rent free
+for three or four years, sent him word that if he didn't send and mend
+the water pipes she would move right out, he sent and mended them.
+People said that he was foolish, and that it didn't do any good to do
+for ungrateful people; but Mr. H. knew that it did <i>him</i> good. He loved
+to do it, and he thought also on some words that ran to this effect: "Do
+good and lend, <i>hoping for nothing again</i>." He literally hoped for
+nothing again in the way of reward, either in this world or in heaven,
+beyond the present pleasure of the deed; for he had abundant occasion to
+see how favors are forgotten in this world; and as for another, he had
+in his own soul a standard of benevolence so high, so pure, so ethereal,
+that but One of mortal birth ever reached it. He felt that, do what he
+might, he fell ever so far below the life of that <i>spotless One</i>&mdash;that
+his crown in heaven must come to him at last, not as a reward, but as a
+free, eternal gift.</p>
+
+<p>But all this while our friend and his little companion have been
+pattering along the wet streets, in the rain and sleet of a bitter cold
+evening, till they stopped before a grocery. Here a large cross-handled
+basket was first bought, and then filled with sundry packages of tea,
+sugar, candles, soap, starch, and various other matters; a barrel of
+flour was ordered to be sent after him on a dray. Mr. H. next stopped at
+a dry goods store and bought a pair of blankets, with which he loaded
+down the boy, who was happy enough to be so loaded; and then, turning
+gradually from the more frequented streets, the two were soon lost to
+view in one of the dimmest alleys of the city.</p>
+
+<p>The cheerful fire was blazing in his parlor, as, returned from his long,
+wet walk, he was sitting by it with his feet comfortably incased in
+slippers. The astral was burning brightly on the centre table, and a
+group of children were around it, studying their lessons.</p>
+
+<p>"Papa," said a little boy, "what does this verse mean? It's in my Sunday
+school lesson. 'Make to yourselves <i>friends of the mammon of
+unrighteousness, that when ye fail, they may receive you into
+everlasting habitations</i>.'"</p>
+
+<p>"You ought to have asked your teacher, my son."</p>
+
+<p>"But he said he didn't know exactly what it meant. He wanted me to look
+this week and see if I could find out."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. H.'s standing resource in all exegetical difficulties was Dr.
+Scott's Family Bible. Therefore he now got up, and putting on his
+spectacles, walked to the glass bookcase, and took down a volume of that
+worthy commentator, and opening it, read aloud the whole exposition of
+the passage, together with the practical reflections upon it; and by the
+time he had done, he found his young auditor fast asleep in his chair.</p>
+
+<p>"Mother," said he, "this child plays too hard. He can't keep his eyes
+open evenings. It's time he was in bed."</p>
+
+<p>"I wasn't asleep, pa," said Master Henry, starting up with that air of
+injured innocence with which gentlemen of his age generally treat an
+imputation of this kind.</p>
+
+<p>"Then can you tell me now what the passage means that I have been
+reading to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"There's so much of it," said Henry, hopelessly, "I wish you'd just tell
+me in short order, father."</p>
+
+<p>"O, read it for yourself," said Mr. H., as he pushed the book towards
+the boy, for it was to be confessed that he perceived at this moment
+that he had not himself received any particularly luminous impression,
+though of course he thought it was owing to his own want of
+comprehension.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. H. leaned back in his rocking chair, and on his own private account
+began to speculate a little as to what he really should think the verse
+might mean, supposing he were at all competent to decide upon it. "'Make
+to yourselves friends of the mammon of unrighteousness,'" says he:
+"that's money, very clearly. How am I to make friends with it or of it?
+Receive me into everlasting habitations: that's a singular kind of
+expression. I wonder what it means. Dr. Scott makes some very good
+remarks about it&mdash;but somehow I'm not exactly clear." It must be
+remarked that this was not an uncommon result of Mr. H.'s critical
+investigations in this quarter.</p>
+
+<p>Well, thoughts will wander; and as he lay with his head on the back of
+his rocking chair, and his eyes fixed on the flickering blaze of the
+coal, visions of his wet tramp in the city, and of the lonely garret he
+had been visiting, and of the poor woman with the pale, discouraged
+face, to whom he had carried warmth and comfort, all blended themselves
+together. He felt, too, a little indefinite creeping chill, and some
+uneasy sensations in his head like a commencing cold, for he was not a
+strong man, and it is probable his long, wet walk was likely to cause
+him some inconvenience in this way. At last he was fast asleep, nodding
+in his chair.</p>
+
+<p>He dreamed that he was very sick in bed, that the doctor came and went,
+and that he grew sicker and sicker. He was going to die. He saw his wife
+sitting weeping by his pillow&mdash;his children standing by with pale and
+frightened faces; all things in his room began to swim, and waver, and
+fade, and voices that called his name, and sobs and lamentations that
+rose around him, seemed far off and distant in his ear. "O eternity,
+eternity! I am going&mdash;I am going," he thought; and in that hour, strange
+to tell, not one of all his good deeds seemed good enough to lean
+on&mdash;all bore some taint or tinge, to his purified eye, of mortal
+selfishness, and seemed unholy before the <span class="smcap">All Pure</span>. "I am going," he
+thought; "there is no time to stay, no time to alter, to balance
+accounts; and I know not what I am, but I know, O Jesus, what THOU art.
+I have trusted in thee, and shall never be confounded;" and with that
+last breath of prayer earth was past.</p>
+
+<p>A soft and solemn breathing, as of music, awakened him. As an infant
+child not yet fully awake hears the holy warblings of his mother's hymn,
+and smiles half conscious, so the heaven-born became aware of sweet
+voices and loving faces around him ere yet he fully woke to the new
+immortal <span class="smcap">Life</span>.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, he has come at last. How long we have waited for him! Here he is
+among us. Now forever welcome! welcome!" said the voices.</p>
+
+<p>Who shall speak the joy of that latest birth, the birth from death to
+life! the sweet, calm, inbreathing consciousness of purity and rest, the
+certainty that all sin, all weakness and error, are at last gone
+forever; the deep, immortal rapture of repose&mdash;felt to be but
+begun&mdash;never to end!</p>
+
+<p>So the eyes of the heaven-born opened on the new heaven and the new
+earth, and wondered at the crowd of loving faces that thronged about
+him. Fair, godlike forms of beauty, such as earth never knew, pressed
+round him with blessings, thanks, and welcome.</p>
+
+<p>The man spoke not, but he wondered in his heart who they were, and
+whence it came that they knew him; and as soon as the inquiry formed
+itself in his soul, it was read at once by his heavenly friends. "I,"
+said one bright spirit, "was a poor boy whom you found in the streets:
+you sought me out, you sent me to school, you watched over me, and led
+me to the house of God; and now here I am." "And we," said other voices,
+"are other neglected children whom you redeemed; we also thank you."
+"And I," said another, "was a lost, helpless girl: sold to sin and
+shame, nobody thought I could be saved; every body passed me by till you
+came. You built a home, a refuge for such poor wretches as I, and there
+I and many like me heard of Jesus; and here we are." "And I," said
+another, "was once a clerk in your store. I came to the city innocent,
+but I was betrayed by the tempter. I forgot my mother, and my mother's
+God. I went to the gaming table and the theatre, and at last I robbed
+your drawer. You might have justly cast me off; but you bore with me,
+you watched over me, you saved me. I am here through you this day." "And
+I," said another, "was a poor slave girl&mdash;doomed to be sold on the
+auction block to a life of infamy, and the ruin of soul and body. Had
+you not been willing to give so largely for my ransom, no one had
+thought to buy me. You stimulated others to give, and I was redeemed. I
+lived a Christian mother to bring my children up for Christ&mdash;they are
+all here with me to bless you this day, and their children on earth, and
+their children's children are growing up to bless you." "And I," said
+another, "was an unbeliever. In the pride of my intellect, I thought I
+could demonstrate the absurdity of Christianity. I thought I could
+answer the argument from miracles and prophecy; but your patient,
+self-denying life was an argument I never could answer. When I saw you
+spending all your time and all your money in efforts for your
+fellow-men, undiscouraged by ingratitude, and careless of praise, then I
+thought, 'There is something divine in that man's life,' and that
+thought brought me here."</p>
+
+<p>The man looked around on the gathering congregation, and he saw that
+there was no one whom he had drawn heavenward that had not also drawn
+thither myriads of others. In his lifetime he had been scattering seeds
+of good around from hour to hour, almost unconsciously; and now he saw
+every seed springing up into a widening forest of immortal beauty and
+glory. It seemed to him that there was to be no end of the numbers that
+flocked to claim him as their long-expected soul friend. His heart was
+full, and his face became as that of an angel as he looked up to One who
+seemed nearer than all, and said, "This is thy love for me, unworthy, O
+Jesus. Of thee, and to thee, and through thee are all things. Amen."</p>
+
+<p>Amen! as with chorus of many waters and mighty thunderings the sound
+swept onward, and died far off in chiming echoes among the distant
+stars, and the man awoke.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="A_SCENE_IN_JERUSALEM" id="A_SCENE_IN_JERUSALEM"></a>A SCENE IN JERUSALEM.</h2>
+
+
+<p>It is now nearly noon, the busiest and most bustling hour of the day;
+yet the streets of the Holy City seem deserted and silent as the grave.
+The artisan has left his bench, the merchant his merchandise; the
+throngs of returned wanderers which this great national festival has
+brought up from every land of the earth, and which have been for the
+last week carrying life and motion through every street, seem suddenly
+to have disappeared. Here and there solitary footfalls, like the last
+pattering rain drops after a shower, awaken the echoes of the streets;
+and here and there some lonely woman looks from the housetop with
+anxious and agitated face, as if she would discern something in the far
+distance.</p>
+
+<p>Alone, or almost alone, the few remaining priests move like
+white-winged, solitary birds over the gorgeous pavements of the temple,
+and as they mechanically conduct the ministrations of the day, cast
+significant glances on each other, and pause here and there to converse
+in anxious whispers.</p>
+
+<p>Ah there is one voice which they have often heard beneath those
+arches&mdash;a voice which ever bore in it a mysterious and thrilling
+charm&mdash;which they know will be hushed to-day. Chief priest, scribe, and
+doctor have all gone out in the death procession after him; and these
+few remaining ones, far from the excitement of the crowd, and busied in
+calm and sacred duties, find voices of anxious questioning rising from
+the depths of their own souls, "What if this indeed were the Christ?"</p>
+
+<p>But pass we on out of the city, and what a surging tide of life and
+motion meets the eye, as if all nations under heaven had dashed their
+waves of population on this Judean shore! A noisy, wrathful, tempestuous
+mob, billow on billow, waver and rally round some central object, which
+it conceals from view. Parthians, Medes, Elamites, dwellers in
+Mesopotamia and Egypt, strangers of Rome, Cretes and Arabians, Jew and
+Proselyte, convoked from the ends of the earth, throng in agitated
+concourse one on another; one theme in every face, on every tongue, one
+name in every variety of accent and dialect passing from lip to lip:
+"<span class="smcap">Jesus of Nazareth!</span>"</p>
+
+<p>Look on that man&mdash;the centre and cause of all this outburst! He stands
+there alone. The cross is ready. It lies beneath his feet. The rough
+hand of a brutal soldier has seized his robe to tear it from him.
+Another with stalwart arm is boring the holes, gazing upward the while
+with a face of stupid unconcern. There on the ground lie the hammer and
+the nails: the hour, the moment of doom is come! Look on this man, as
+upward, with deep, sorrowing eyes, he gazes towards heaven. Hears he the
+roar of the mob? Feels he the rough hand on his garment? Nay, he sees
+not, feels not: from all the rage and tumult of the hour he is rapt
+away. A sorrow deeper, more absorbing, more unearthly seems to possess
+him, as upward with long gaze he looks to that heaven never before
+closed to his prayer, to that God never before to him invisible. That
+mournful, heaven-searching glance, in its lonely anguish, says but one
+thing: "Lo, I come to do thy will, O God."</p>
+
+<p>Through a life of sorrow the realized love of his Father has shone like
+a precious and beautiful talisman in his bosom; but now, when desolation
+and anguish have come upon him as a whirlwind, this last star has gone
+out in the darkness, and Jesus, deserted by man and God, stands there
+<i>alone</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Alone? No; for undaunted by the cruel mob, fearless in the strength of
+mortal anguish, helpless, yet undismayed, stands the one blessed among
+women, the royal daughter of a noble line, the priestess to whose care
+was intrusted this spotless sacrifice. She and her son, last of a race
+of kings, stand there despised, rejected, and disavowed by their nation,
+to accomplish dread words of prophecy, which have swept down for far
+ages to this hour.</p>
+
+<p>Strange it is, in this dark scene, to see the likeness between mother
+and son, deepening in every line of those faces, as they stand thus
+thrown out by the dark background of rage and hate, which like a storm
+cloud lowers around. The same rapt, absorbed, calm intensity of anguish
+in both mother and son, save only that while he gazes upward towards
+God, she, with like fervor, gazes on him. What to her is the deriding
+mob, the coarse taunt, the brutal abuse? Of it all she hears, she feels
+nothing. She sinks not, faints not, weeps not; her whole being
+concentrates in the will to suffer by and with him to the last. Other
+hearts there are that beat for him; others that press into the doomed
+circle, and own him amid the scorn of thousands. There may you see the
+clasped hands and upraised eyes of a Magdalen, the pale and steady
+resolve of John, the weeping company of women who bewailed and lamented
+him; but none dare press so near, or seem so identical with him in his
+sufferings, as this mother.</p>
+
+<p>And as we gaze on these two in human form, surrounded by other human
+forms, how strange the contrast! How is it possible that human features
+and human lineaments essentially alike, can be wrought into such
+heaven-wide contrast? <span class="smcap">Man</span> is he who stands there, lofty and spotless, in
+bleeding patience! <i>Men</i> also are those brutal soldiers, alike stupidly
+ready, at the word of command, to drive the nail through quivering flesh
+or insensate wood. <i>Men</i> are those scowling priests and infuriate
+Pharisees. <i>Men</i>, also, the shifting figures of the careless rabble, who
+shout and curse without knowing why. No visible glory shines round that
+head; yet how, spite of every defilement cast upon him by the vulgar
+rabble, seems that form to be glorified! What light is that in those
+eyes! What mournful beauty in that face! What solemn, mysterious
+sacredness investing the whole form, constraining from us the
+exclamation, "Surely this is the Son of God." <i>Man's</i> voice is breathing
+vulgar taunt and jeer: "He saved others; himself he cannot save." "He
+trusted in God; let him deliver him if he will have him." And <i>man's</i>,
+also, clear, sweet, unearthly, pierces that stormy mob, saying, "Father,
+forgive them; they know not what they do."</p>
+
+<p>But we draw the veil in reverence. It is not ours to picture what the
+sun refused to shine upon, and earth shook to behold.</p>
+
+<p>Little thought those weeping women, that stricken disciple, that
+heart-broken mother, how on some future day that cross&mdash;emblem to them
+of deepest infamy&mdash;should blaze in the eye of all nations, symbol of
+triumph and hope, glittering on gorgeous fanes, embroidered on regal
+banners, associated with all that is revered and powerful on earth. The
+Roman ensign that waved on that mournful day, symbol of highest earthly
+power, is a thing mouldered and forgotten; and over all the high places
+of old Rome, herself stands that mystical cross, no longer speaking of
+earthly anguish and despair, but of heavenly glory, honor, and
+immortality.</p>
+
+<p>Theologians have endlessly disputed and philosophized on this great fact
+of <i>atonement</i>. The Bible tells only that this tragic event was the
+essential point without which our salvation could never have been
+secured. But where lay the necessity they do not say. What was that
+dread strait that either the divine One must thus suffer, or man be
+lost, who knoweth?</p>
+
+<p>To this question answer a thousand voices, with each a different
+solution, urged with equal confidence&mdash;each solution to its framer as
+certain and sacred as the dread fact it explains&mdash;yet every one,
+perhaps, unsatisfactory to the deep-questioning soul. The Bible, as it
+always does, gives on this point not definitions or distinct outlines,
+but images&mdash;images which lose all their glory and beauty if seized by
+the harsh hands of metaphysical analysis, but inexpressibly affecting to
+the unlettered human heart, which softens in gazing on their mournful
+and mysterious beauty. Christ is called our sacrifice, our passover, our
+atoning high priest; and he himself, while holding in his hands the
+emblem cup, says, "It is my blood, shed for <i>many</i>, for the <i>remission
+of sins</i>." Let us reason on it as we will, this story of the cross,
+presented without explanation in the simple metaphor of the Bible, has
+produced an effect on human nature wholly unaccountable. In every age
+and clime, with every variety of habit, thought, and feeling, from the
+cannibals of New Zealand and Madagascar to the most enlightened and
+scientific minds in Christendom, one feeling, essentially homogeneous in
+its character and results, has arisen in view of this cross. There is
+something in it that strikes one of the great nerves of simple,
+unsophisticated humanity, and meets its wants as nothing else will. Ages
+ago, Paul declared to philosophizing Greek and scornful Roman that he
+was not ashamed of this gospel, and alleged for his reason this very
+adaptedness to humanity. <i>A priori</i>, many would have said that Paul
+should have told of Christ living, Christ preaching, Christ working
+miracles, not omitting also the pathetic history of how he sealed all
+with his blood; but Paul declared that he determined to know nothing
+else but Christ <i>crucified</i>. He said it was a stumbling block to the
+Jew, an absurdity to the Greek; yet he was none the less positive in his
+course. True, there was many then, as now, who looked on with the most
+philosophic and cultivated indifference. The courtly Festus, as he
+settled his purple tunic, declared he could make nothing of the matter,
+only a dispute about one Jesus, who was dead, and whom Paul affirmed to
+be alive; and perchance some Athenian, as he reclined on his ivory couch
+at dinner, after the sermon on Mars Hill, may have disposed of the
+matter very summarily, and passed on to criticisms on Samian wine and
+marble vases. Yet in spite of their disbelief, this story of Christ has
+outlived them, their age and nation, and is to this hour as fresh in
+human hearts as if it were just published. This "one Jesus which was
+dead, and whom Paul affirmed to be alive," is nominally, at least, the
+object of religious homage in all the more cultivated portions of the
+globe; and to hearts scattered through all regions of the earth this
+same Jesus is now a sacred and living name, dearer than all household
+sounds, all ties of blood, all sweetest and nearest affections of
+humanity. "I am ready not only to be bound, but also to die for the name
+of the Lord Jesus," are words that have found an echo in the bosoms of
+thousands in every age since then; that would, if need were, find no
+less echo in thousands now. Considering Christ as a man, and his death
+as a mere pathetic story,&mdash;considering him as one of the great martyrs
+for truth, who sealed it with his blood,&mdash;this result is wholly
+unaccountable. Other martyrs have died, bravely and tenderly, in their
+last hours "bearing witness of the godlike" that is in man; but who so
+remembers them? Who so loves them? To whom is any one of them a living
+presence, a life, an all? Yet so thousands look on Jesus at this hour.</p>
+
+<p>Nay, it is because this story strikes home to every human bosom as an
+individual concern. A thrilling voice speaks from this scene of anguish
+to every human bosom: This is <i>thy</i> Savior. <i>Thy</i> sin hath done this. It
+is the appropriative words, <i>thine</i> and <i>mine</i>, which make this history
+different from any other history. This was for <i>me</i>, is the thought
+which has pierced the apathy of the Greenlander, and kindled the stolid
+clay of the Hottentot; and no human bosom has ever been found so low, so
+lost, so guilty, so despairing, that this truth, once received, has not
+had power to redeem, regenerate, and disenthrall. Christ so presented
+becomes to every human being a friend nearer than the mother who bore
+him; and the more degraded, the more hopeless and polluted, is the
+nature, the stronger comes on the living reaction, if this belief is
+really and vividly enkindled with it. But take away this appropriative,
+individual element, and this legend of Jesus's death has no more power
+than any other. He is to us no more than Washington or Socrates, or
+Howard. And where is there not a touchstone to try every theory of
+atonement? Whatever makes a man feel that he is only a spectator, an
+uninterested judge in this matter, is surely astray from the idea of the
+Bible. Whatever makes him feel that his sins have done this deed, that
+he is bound, soul and body, to this Deliverer, though it may be in many
+points philosophically erroneous, cannot go far astray.</p>
+
+<p>If we could tell the number of the stars, and call them forth by name,
+then, perhaps, might we solve all the mystic symbols by which the Bible
+has shadowed forth the far-lying necessities and reachings-forth of this
+event "among principalities and powers," and in "ages to come." But he
+who knows nothing of all this, who shall so present the atonement as to
+bind and affiance human souls indissolubly to their Redeemer, does all
+that could be done by the highest and most perfect knowledge.</p>
+
+<p>The great object is accomplished, when the soul, rapt, inspired, feels
+the deep resolve,&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">"Remember Thee!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yea, from the table of my memory<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll wipe away all trivial, fond records,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That youth and observation copied there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thy commandment all alone shall live<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Within the book and volume of my brain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unmixed with baser matter."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_OLD_MEETING_HOUSE" id="THE_OLD_MEETING_HOUSE"></a>THE OLD MEETING HOUSE.</h2>
+
+<h3>SKETCH FROM THE NOTE BOOK OF AN OLD GENTLEMAN.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Never shall I forget the dignity and sense of importance which swelled
+my mind when I was first pronounced old enough to go to meeting. That
+eventful Sunday I was up long before day, and even took my Sabbath suit
+to the window to ascertain by the first light that it actually was
+there, just as it looked the night before. With what complacency did I
+view myself completely dressed! How did I count over the rows of yellow
+gilt buttons on my coat! how my good mother, grandmother, and aunts
+fussed, and twitched, and pulled, to make every thing set up and set
+down, just in the proper place! how my clean, starched white collar was
+turned over and smoothed again and again, and my golden curls twisted
+and arranged to make the most of me! and, last of all, how I was
+cautioned not to be thinking of my clothes! In truth, I was in those
+days a very handsome youngster, and it really is no more than justice to
+let the fact be known, as there is nothing in my present appearance from
+which it could ever be inferred. Every body in the house successively
+asked me if I should be a good boy, and sit still, and not talk, nor
+laugh; and my mother informed me, <i>in terrorem</i>, that there was a
+tithing man, who carried off naughty children, and shut them up in a
+dark place behind the pulpit; and that this tithing man, Mr. Zephaniah
+Scranton, sat just where he could see me. This fact impressed my mind
+with more solemnity than all the exhortations which had preceded it&mdash;a
+proof of the efficacy of facts above reason. Under shadow and power of
+this weighty truth, I demurely took hold of my mother's forefinger to
+walk to meeting.</p>
+
+<p>The traveller in New England, as he stands on some eminence, and looks
+down on its rich landscape of golden grain and waving cornfield, sees no
+feature more beautiful than its simple churches, whose white taper
+fingers point upward, amid the greenness and bloom of the distant
+prospects, as if to remind one of the overshadowing providence whence
+all this luxuriant beauty flows; and year by year, as new ones are added
+to the number, or succeed in the place of old ones, there is discernible
+an evident improvement in their taste and architecture. Those modest
+Doric little buildings, with their white pillars, green blinds, and neat
+enclosures, are very different affairs from those great, uncouth
+mountains of windows and doors that stood in the same place years
+before. To my childish eye, however, our old meeting house was an
+awe-inspiring thing. To me it seemed fashioned very nearly on the model
+of Noah's ark and Solomon's temple, as set forth in the pictures in my
+Scripture Catechism&mdash;pictures which I did not doubt were authentic
+copies; and what more respectable and venerable architectural precedent
+could any one desire? Its double rows of windows, of which I knew the
+number by heart, its doors with great wooden quirls over them, its
+belfry projecting out at the east end, its steeple and bell, all
+inspired as much sense of the sublime in me as Strasbourg Cathedral
+itself; and the inside was not a whit less imposing.</p>
+
+<p>How magnificent, to my eye, seemed the turnip-like canopy that hung over
+the minister's head, hooked by a long iron rod to the wall above! and
+how apprehensively did I consider the question, what would become of him
+if it should fall! How did I wonder at the panels on either side of the
+pulpit, in each of which was carved and painted a flaming red tulip,
+bolt upright, with its leaves projecting out at right angles! and then
+at the grape vine, bass relieved on the front, with its exactly
+triangular bunches of grapes, alternating at exact intervals with
+exactly triangular leaves. To me it was an indisputable representation
+of how grape vines ought to look, if they would only be straight and
+regular, instead of curling and scrambling, and twisting themselves into
+all sorts of slovenly shapes. The area of the house was divided into
+large square pews, boxed up with stout boards, and surmounted with a
+kind of baluster work, which I supposed to be provided for the special
+accommodation of us youngsters, being the "loopholes of retreat" through
+which we gazed on the "remarkabilia" of the scene. It was especially
+interesting to me to notice the coming in to meeting of the
+congregation. The doors were so contrived that on entering you stepped
+<i>down</i> instead of <i>up</i>&mdash;a construction that has more than once led to
+unlucky results in the case of strangers. I remember once when an
+unlucky Frenchman, entirely unsuspicious of the danger that awaited him,
+made entrance by pitching devoutly upon his nose in the middle of the
+broad aisle; that it took three bunches of my grandmother's fennel to
+bring my risibles into any thing like composure. Such exhibitions,
+fortunately for me, were very rare; but still I found great amusement in
+watching the distinctive and marked outlines of the various people that
+filled up the seats around me. A Yankee village presents a picture of
+the curiosities of every generation: there, from year to year, they live
+on, preserved by hard labor and regular habits, exhibiting every
+peculiarity of manner and appearance, as distinctly marked as when they
+first came from the mint of nature. And as every body goes punctually to
+meeting, the meeting house becomes a sort of museum of antiquities&mdash;a
+general muster ground for past and present.</p>
+
+<p>I remember still with what wondering admiration I used to look around on
+the people that surrounded our pew. On one side there was an old Captain
+McLean, and Major McDill, a couple whom the mischievous wits of the
+village designated as Captain McLean and Captain McFat; and, in truth,
+they were a perfect antithesis, a living exemplification of flesh and
+spirit. Captain McLean was a mournful, lengthy, considerate-looking old
+gentleman, with a long face, digressing into a long, thin, horny nose,
+which, when he applied his pocket handkerchief, gave forth a melancholy,
+minor-keyed sound, such as a ghost might make, using a pocket
+handkerchief in the long gallery of some old castle.</p>
+
+<p>Close at his side was the doughty, puffing Captain McDill, whose
+full-orbed, jolly visage was illuminated by a most valiant red nose,
+shaped something like an overgrown doughnut, and looking as if it had
+been thrown <i>at</i> his face, and happened to hit in the middle. Then there
+was old Israel Peters, with a wooden leg, which tramped into meeting,
+with undeviating regularity, ten minutes before meeting time; and there
+was Jedediah Stebbins, a thin, wistful, moonshiny-looking old gentleman,
+whose mouth appeared as if it had been gathered up with a needle and
+thread, and whose eyes seemed as if they had been bound with red tape;
+and there was old Benaiah Stephens, who used regularly to get up and
+stand when the minister was about half through his sermon, exhibiting
+his tall figure, long, single-breasted coat, with buttons nearly as
+large as a tea plate; his large, black, horn spectacles stretched down
+on the extreme end of a very long nose, and vigorously chewing,
+meanwhile, on the bunch of caraway which he always carried in one hand.
+Then there was Aunt Sally Stimpson, and old Widow Smith, and a whole
+bevy of little, dried old ladies, with small, straight, black bonnets,
+tight sleeves to the elbow, long silk gloves, and great fans, big enough
+for a windmill; and of a hot day it was a great amusement to me to watch
+the bobbing of the little black bonnets, which showed that sleep had got
+the better of their owners' attention, and the sputter and rustling of
+the fans, when a more profound nod than common would suddenly waken
+them, and set them to fanning and listening with redoubled devotion.
+There was Deacon Dundas, a great wagon load of an old gentleman, whose
+ample pockets looked as if they might have held half the congregation,
+who used to establish himself just on one side of me, and seemed to feel
+such entire confidence in the soundness and capacity of his pastor that
+he could sleep very comfortably from one end of the sermon to the other.
+Occasionally, to be sure, one of your officious blue flies, who, as
+every body knows, are amazingly particular about such matters, would
+buzz into his mouth, or flirt into his ears a passing admonition as to
+the impropriety of sleeping in meeting, when the good old gentleman
+would start, open his eyes very wide, and look about with a resolute
+air, as much as to say, "I wasn't asleep, I can tell you;" and then
+setting himself in an edifying posture of attention, you might perceive
+his head gradually settling back, his mouth slowly opening wider and
+wider, till the good man would go off again soundly asleep, as if
+nothing had happened.</p>
+
+<p>It was a good orthodox custom of old times to take every part of the
+domestic establishment to meeting, even down to the faithful dog, who,
+as he had supervised the labors of the week, also came with due
+particularity to supervise the worship of Sunday. I think I can see now
+the fitting out on a Sunday morning&mdash;the one wagon, or two, as the case
+might be, tackled up with an "old gray" or an "old bay," with a buffalo
+skin over the seat by way of cushion, and all the family, in their
+Sunday best, packed in for meeting; while Master Bose, Watch, or Towser
+stood prepared to be an outguard and went meekly trotting up hill and
+down dale in the rear. Arrived at meeting, the canine part of the
+establishment generally conducted themselves with great decorum, lying
+down and going to sleep as decently as any body present, except when
+some of the business-loving bluebottles aforesaid would make a sortie
+upon them, when you might hear the snap of their jaws as they vainly
+sought to lay hold of the offender. Now and then, between some of the
+sixthlies, seventhlies, and eighthlies, you might hear some old
+patriarch giving himself a rousing shake, and pitpatting soberly up the
+aisles, as if to see that every thing was going on properly, after which
+he would lie down and compose himself to sleep again; and certainly this
+was as improving a way of spending Sunday as a good Christian dog could
+desire.</p>
+
+<p>But the glory of our meeting house was its singers' seat&mdash;that empyrean
+of those who rejoiced in the divine, mysterious art of fa-sol-la-ing,
+who, by a distinguishing grace and privilege, could "raise and fall" the
+cabalistical eight notes, and move serene through the enchanted region
+of flats, sharps, thirds, fifths, and octaves.</p>
+
+<p>There they sat in the gallery that lined three sides of the house,
+treble, counter, tenor, and bass, each with its appropriate leaders and
+supporters; there were generally seated the bloom of our young people;
+sparkling, modest, and blushing girls on one side, with their ribbons
+and finery, making the place where they sat as blooming and lively as a
+flower garden, and fiery, forward, confident young men on the other. In
+spite of its being a meeting house, we could not swear that glances were
+never given and returned, and that there was not often as much of an
+approach to flirtation as the distance and the sobriety of the place
+would admit. Certain it was, that there was no place where our village
+coquettes attracted half so many eyes or led astray half so many hearts.</p>
+
+<p>But I have been talking of singers all this time, and neglected to
+mention the Magnus Apollo of the whole concern, the redoubtable
+chorister, who occupied the seat of honor in the midst of the middle
+gallery, and exactly opposite to the minister. Certain it is that the
+good man, if he were alive, would never believe it; for no person ever
+more magnified his office, or had a more thorough belief in his own
+greatness and supremacy, than Zedekiah Morse. Methinks I can see him now
+as he appeared to my eyes on that first Sunday, when he shot up from
+behind the gallery, as if he had been sent up by a spring. He was a
+little man, whose fiery-red hair, brushed straight up on the top of his
+head, had an appearance as vigorous and lively as real flame; and this,
+added to the ardor and determination of all his motions, had obtained
+for him the surname of the "Burning Bush." He seemed possessed with the
+very soul of song; and from the moment he began to sing, looked alive
+all over, till it seemed to me that his whole body would follow his hair
+upwards, fairly rapt away by the power of harmony. With what an air did
+he sound the important <i>fa-sol-la</i> in the ears of the waiting gallery,
+who stood with open mouths ready to seize their pitch, preparatory to
+their general <i>set to</i>! How did his ascending and descending arm
+astonish the zephyrs when once he laid himself out to the important work
+of beating time! How did his little head whisk from side to side, as now
+he beat and roared towards the ladies on his right, and now towards the
+gentlemen on his left! It used to seem to my astonished vision as if his
+form grew taller, his arm longer, his hair redder, and his little green
+eyes brighter, with every stave; and particularly when he perceived any
+falling off of time or discrepancy in pitch; with what redoubled vigor
+would he thump the gallery and roar at the delinquent quarter, till
+every mother's son and daughter of them skipped and scrambled into the
+right place again!</p>
+
+<p>O, it was a fine thing to see the vigor and discipline with which he
+managed the business; so that if, on a hot, drowsy Sunday, any part of
+the choir hung back or sung sleepily on the first part of a verse, they
+were obliged to bestir themselves in good earnest, and sing three times
+as fast, in order to get through with the others. 'Kiah Morse was no
+advocate for your dozy, drawling singing, that one may do at leisure,
+between sleeping and waking, I assure you; indeed, he got entirely out
+of the graces of Deacon Dundas and one or two other portly, leisurely
+old gentlemen below, who had been used to throw back their heads, shut
+up their eyes, and take the comfort of the psalm, by prolonging
+indefinitely all the notes. The first Sunday after 'Kiah took the music
+in hand, the old deacon really rubbed his eyes and looked about him; for
+the psalm was sung off before he was ready to get his mouth opened, and
+he really looked upon it as a most irreverent piece of business.</p>
+
+<p>But the glory of 'Kiah's art consisted in the execution of those good
+old billowy compositions called fuguing tunes, where the four parts that
+compose the choir take up the song, and go racing around one after
+another, each singing a different set of words, till, at length, by some
+inexplicable magic, they all come together again, and sail smoothly out
+into a rolling sea of song. I remember the wonder with which I used to
+look from side to side when treble, tenor, counter, and bass were thus
+roaring and foaming,&mdash;and it verily seemed to me as if the psalm was
+going to pieces among the breakers,&mdash;and the delighted astonishment with
+which I found that each particular verse did emerge whole and uninjured
+from the storm.</p>
+
+<p>But alas for the wonders of that old meeting house, how they are passed
+away! Even the venerable building itself has been pulled down, and its
+fragments scattered; yet still I retain enough of my childish feelings
+to wonder whether any little boy was gratified by the possession of
+those painted tulips and grape vines, which my childish eye used to
+covet, and about the obtaining of which, in case the house should ever
+be pulled down, I devised so many schemes during the long sermons and
+services of summer days. I have visited the spot where it stood, but the
+modern, fair-looking building that stands in its room bears no trace of
+it; and of the various familiar faces that used to be seen inside, not
+one remains. Verily, I must be growing old; and as old people are apt to
+spin long stories, I check myself, and lay down my pen.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_NEW-YEARS_GIFT" id="THE_NEW-YEARS_GIFT"></a>THE NEW-YEAR'S GIFT.</h2>
+
+
+<p>The sparkling ice and snow covered hill and valley&mdash;tree and bush were
+glittering with diamonds&mdash;the broad, coarse rails of the fence shone
+like bars of solid silver, while little fringes of icicles glittered
+between each bar.</p>
+
+<p>In the yard of yonder dwelling the scarlet berries of the mountain ash
+shine through a transparent casing of crystal, and the sable spruces and
+white pines, powdered and glittering with the frost, have assumed an icy
+brilliancy. The eaves of the house, the door knocker, the pickets of the
+fence, the honeysuckles and seringas, once the boast of summer, are all
+alike polished, varnished, and resplendent with their winter trappings,
+now gleaming in the last rays of the early sunset.</p>
+
+<p>Within that large, old-fashioned dwelling might you see an ample parlor,
+all whose adjustments and arrangements speak of security, warmth, and
+home enjoyment; of money spent not for show, but for comfort. Thick
+crimson curtains descend in heavy folds over the embrasures of the
+windows, and the ample hearth and wide fireplace speak of the customs of
+the good old times, ere that gloomy, unpoetic, unsocial gnome&mdash;the
+air-tight&mdash;had monopolized the place of the blazing fireside.</p>
+
+<p>No dark air-tight, however, filled our ancient chimney; but there was a
+genuine old-fashioned fire of the most approved architecture, with a
+gallant backlog and forestick, supporting and keeping in order a
+crackling pile of dry wood, that was whirring and blazing warm welcome
+for all whom it might concern, occasionally bursting forth into most
+portentous and earnest snaps, which rung through the room with a
+genuine, hospitable emphasis, as if the fire was enjoying himself, and
+having a good time, and wanted all hands to draw up and make themselves
+at home with him.</p>
+
+<p>So looked that parlor to me, when, tired with a long day's ride, I found
+my way into it, just at evening, and was greeted with a hearty welcome
+from my old friend, Colonel Winthrop.</p>
+
+<p>In addition to all that I have already described, let the reader add, if
+he pleases, the vision of a wide and ample tea table, covered with a
+snowy cloth, on which the servants are depositing the evening meal.</p>
+
+<p>I had not seen Winthrop for years; but we were old college friends, and
+I had gladly accepted an invitation to renew our ancient intimacy by
+passing the New Year's season in his family. I found him still the same
+hale, kindly, cheery fellow as in days of old, though time had taken the
+same liberty with his handsome head that Jack Frost had with the cedars
+and spruces out of doors, in giving to it a graceful and becoming
+sprinkle of silver.</p>
+
+<p>"Here you are, my dear fellow," said he, shaking me by both hands&mdash;"just
+in season for the ham and chickens&mdash;coffee all smoking. My dear," he
+added to a motherly-looking woman who now entered, "here's John! I beg
+pardon, Mr. Stuart." As he spoke, two bold, handsome boys broke into the
+room, accompanied by a huge Newfoundland dog&mdash;all as full of hilarity
+and abundant animation as an afternoon of glorious skating could have
+generated.</p>
+
+<p>"Ha, Tom and Ned!&mdash;you rogues&mdash;you don't want any supper to-night, I
+suppose," said the father, gayly; "come up here and be introduced to my
+old friend. Here they come!" said he, as one by one the opening doors
+admitted the various children to the summons of the evening meal.
+"Here," presenting a tall young girl, "is our eldest, beginning to think
+herself a young lady, on the strength of being fifteen years old, and
+wearing her hair tucked up. And here is Eliza," said he, giving a pull
+to a blooming, roguish girl of ten, with large, saucy black eyes. "And
+here is Willie!" a bashful, blushing little fellow in a checked apron.
+"And now, where's the little queen?&mdash;where's her majesty?&mdash;where's
+Ally?"</p>
+
+<p>A golden head of curls was, at this instant, thrust timidly in at the
+door, and I caught a passing glimpse of a pair of great blue eyes; but
+the head, curls, eyes, and all, instantly vanished, though a little fat
+dimpled hand was seen holding on to the door, and swinging it back and
+forward. "Ally, dear, come in!" said the mother, in a tone of
+encouragement. "Come in, Ally! come in," was repeated in various tones,
+by each child; but brother Tom pushed open the door, and taking the
+little recusant in his arms, brought her fairly in, and deposited her on
+her father's knee. She took firm hold of his coat, and then turned and
+gazed shyly upon me&mdash;her large splendid blue eyes gleaming through her
+golden curls. It was evident that this was the pet lamb of the fold, and
+she was just at that age when babyhood is verging into childhood&mdash;an age
+often indefinitely prolonged in a large family, where the universal
+admiration that waits on every look, and motion, and word of <i>the baby</i>,
+and the multiplied monopolies and privileges of the baby estate, seem,
+by universal consent, to extend as long and as far as possible. And why
+not thus delay the little bark of the child among the flowery shores of
+its first Eden?&mdash;defer them as we may, the hard, the real, the cold
+commonplace of life comes on all too soon!</p>
+
+<p>"This is our New Year's gift," said Winthrop, fondly caressing the curly
+head. "Ally, tell the gentleman how old you are."</p>
+
+<p>"I s'all be four next New 'Ear's," said the little one, while all the
+circle looked applause.</p>
+
+<p>"Ally, tell the gentleman what you are," said brother Ned.</p>
+
+<p>Ally looked coquettishly at me, as if she did not know whether she
+should favor me to that extent, and the young princess was further
+solicited.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell him what Ally is," said the oldest sister, with a patronizing air.</p>
+
+<p>"Papa's New 'Ear's pesent," said my little lady, at last.</p>
+
+<p>"And mamma's, too!" said the mother gently, amid the applauses of the
+admiring circle.</p>
+
+<p>Winthrop looked apologetically at me, and said, "We all spoil
+her&mdash;that's a fact&mdash;every one of us down to Rover, there, who lets her
+tie tippets round his neck, and put bonnets on his head, and hug and
+kiss him, to a degree that would disconcert any other dog in the world."</p>
+
+<p>If ever beauty and poetic grace was an apology for spoiling, it was in
+this case. Every turn of the bright head, every change of the dimpled
+face and round and chubby limbs, was a picture; and within the little
+form was shrined a heart full of love, and running over with compassion
+and good will for every breathing thing; with feelings so sensitive,
+that it was papa's delight to make her laugh and cry with stories, and
+to watch in the blue, earnest mirror of her eye every change and turn of
+his narration, as he took her through long fairy tales, and
+old-fashioned giant and ghost legends, purely for his own amusement, and
+much reprimanded all the way by mamma, for filling the child's head with
+nonsense.</p>
+
+<p>It was now, however, time to turn from the beauty to the substantial
+realities of the supper table. I observed that Ally's high chair was
+stationed close by her father's side; and ever and anon, while gayly
+talking, he would slip into her rosy little mouth some choice bit from
+his plate, these notices and attentions seeming so instinctive and
+habitual, that they did not for a moment interrupt the thread of the
+conversation. Once or twice I caught a glimpse of Rover's great rough
+nose, turned anxiously up to the little chair; whereat the small white
+hand forthwith slid something into his mouth, though by what dexterity
+it ever came out from the great black jaws undevoured was a mystery.
+When the supply of meat on the small lady's plate was exhausted, I
+observed the little hand slyly slipping into her father's provision
+grounds, and with infinite address abstracting small morsels, whereat
+there was much mysterious winking between the father and the other
+children, and considerable tittering among the younger ones, though all
+in marvellous silence, as it was deemed best policy not to appear to
+notice Ally's tricks, lest they should become too obstreperous.</p>
+
+<p>In the course of the next day I found myself, to all intents and
+purposes, as much part and parcel of the family as if I had been born
+and bred among them. I found that I had come in a critical time, when
+secrets were plenty as blackberries. It being New Year's week, all the
+little hoarded resources of the children, both of money and of
+ingenuity, were in brisk requisition, getting up New Year's presents for
+each other, and for father and mother. The boys had their little tin
+savings banks, where all the stray pennies of the year had been
+carefully hoarded&mdash;all that had been got by blacking papa's boots, or by
+piling wood, or weeding in the garden&mdash;mingled with some fortunate
+additions which had come as windfalls from some liberal guest or friend.
+All now were poured out daily, on tables, on chairs, on stools, and
+counted over with wonderful earnestness.</p>
+
+<p>My friend, though in easy circumstances, was somewhat old-fashioned in
+his notions. He never allowed his children spending money, except such
+as they fairly earned by some exertions of their own. "Let them do
+something," he would say, "to make it fairly theirs, and their
+generosity will then have some significance&mdash;it is very easy for
+children to be generous on their parents' money." Great were the
+comparing of resources and estimates of property at this time. Tom and
+Ned, who were big enough to saw wood, and hoe in the garden, had
+accumulated the vast sum of three dollars each, and walked about with
+their hands in their pockets, and talked largely of purchases, like
+gentlemen of substance. They thought of getting mamma a new muff, and
+papa a writing desk, besides trinkets innumerable for sisters, and a big
+doll for Ally; but after they had made one expedition to a neighboring
+town to inquire prices, I observed that their expectations were greatly
+moderated. As to little Willie, him of the checked apron, his whole
+earthly substance amounted to thirty-seven cents; yet there was not a
+member of the whole family circle, including the servants, that he could
+find it in his heart to leave out of his remembrance. I ingratiated
+myself with him immediately; and twenty times a day did I count over his
+money to him, and did sums innumerable to show how much would be left if
+he got this, that, or the other article, which he was longing to buy for
+father or mother. I proved to him most invaluable, by helping him to
+think of certain small sixpenny and fourpenny articles that would be
+pretty to give to sisters, making out with marbles for Tom and Ned, and
+a very valiant-looking sugar horse for Ally. Miss Emma had the usual
+resource of young ladies, flosses, worsted, and knitting, and crochet
+needles, and busy fingers, and she was giving private lessons daily to
+Eliza, to enable her to get up some napkin rings, and book marks for the
+all-important occasion. A gentle air of bustle and mystery pervaded the
+whole circle. I was intrusted with so many secrets that I could scarcely
+make an observation, or take a turn about the room, without being
+implored to "remember"&mdash;"not to tell"&mdash;not to let papa know this, or
+mamma that. I was not to let papa know how the boys were going to buy
+him a new inkstand, with a pen rack upon it, which was entirely to
+outshine all previous inkstands; nor tell mamma about the crochet bag
+that Emma was knitting for her. On all sides were mysterious
+whisperings, and showing of things wrapped in brown paper, glimpses of
+which, through some inadvertence, were always appearing to the public
+eye. There were close counsels held behind doors and in corners, and
+suddenly broken off when some particular member of the family appeared.
+There were flutters of vanishing book marks, which were always whisked
+away when a door opened; and incessant ejaculations of admiration and
+astonishment from one privileged looker or another on things which might
+not be mentioned to or beheld by others.</p>
+
+<p>Papa and mamma behaved with the utmost circumspection and discretion,
+and though surrounded on all sides by such pitfalls and labyrinths of
+mystery, moved about with an air of the most unconscious simplicity
+possible.</p>
+
+<p>But little Ally, from her privileged character, became a very
+spoil-sport in the proceedings. Her small fingers were always pulling
+open parcels prematurely, or lifting pocket handkerchiefs ingeniously
+thrown down over mysterious articles, and thus disconcerting the very
+profoundest surprises that ever were planned; and were it not that she
+was still within the bounds of the kingly state of babyhood, and
+therefore could be held to do no wrong, she would certainly have fallen
+into general disgrace; but then it was "Ally," and that was apology for
+all things, and the exploit was related in half whispers as so funny, so
+cunning, that Miss Curlypate was in nowise disconcerted at the head
+shakes and "naughty Allys" that visited her offences.</p>
+
+<p>"What dis?" said she, one morning, as she was rummaging over some
+packages indiscreetly left on the sofa.</p>
+
+<p>"O Emma! see Ally!" exclaimed Eliza, darting forward; but too late, for
+the flaxen curls and blue eyes of a wax doll had already appeared.</p>
+
+<p>"Now she'll know all about it," said Eliza, despairingly.</p>
+
+<p>Ally looked in astonishment, as dolly's visage promptly disappeared from
+her view, and then turned to pursue her business in another quarter of
+the room, where, spying something glittering under the sofa, she
+forthwith pulled out and held up to public view a crochet bag sparkling
+with innumerable steel fringes.</p>
+
+<p>"O, what be dis!" she exclaimed again.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Emma sprang to the rescue, while all the other children, with a
+burst of exclamations, turned their eyes on mamma. Mamma very prudently
+did not turn her head, and appeared to be lost in reflection, though she
+must have been quite deaf not to have heard the loud whispers&mdash;"It's
+mamma's bag! only think! Don't you think, Tom, Ally pulled out mamma's
+bag, and held it right up before her! Don't you think she'll find out?"</p>
+
+<p>Master Tom valued himself greatly on the original and profound ways he
+had of adapting his presents to the tastes of the receiver without
+exciting suspicion: for example, he would come up into his mother's
+room, all booted and coated for a ride to town, jingling his purse
+gleefully, and begin,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Mother, mother, which do you like best, pink or blue?"</p>
+
+<p>"That might depend on circumstances, my son."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, but, mother, for a neck ribbon, for example; suppose somebody was
+going to buy you a neck ribbon."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, blue would be the most suitable for me, I think."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, but mother, which should you think was the best, a neck ribbon or
+a book?"</p>
+
+<p>"What book? It would depend something on that."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, as good a book as a fellow could get for thirty-seven cents," says
+Tom.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, on the whole, I think I should prefer the ribbon."</p>
+
+<p>"There, Ned," says Tom, coming down the stairs, "I've found out just
+what mother wants, without telling her a word about it."</p>
+
+<p>But the crowning mystery of all the great family arcana, the thing that
+was going to astonish papa and mamma past all recovery, was certain
+projected book marks, that little Ally was going to be made to work for
+them. This bold scheme was projected by Miss Emma, and she had armed
+herself with a whole paper of sugar plums, to be used as adjuvants to
+moral influence, in case the discouragements of the undertaking should
+prove too much for Ally's patience.</p>
+
+<p>As to Ally, she felt all the dignity of the enterprise&mdash;her whole little
+soul was absorbed in it. Seated on Emma's knee, with the needle between
+her little fat fingers, and holding the board very tight, as if she was
+afraid it would run away from her, she very gravely and carefully stuck
+the needle in every place but the right&mdash;pricked her pretty fingers&mdash;ate
+sugar plums&mdash;stopping now to pat Rover, and now to stroke pussy&mdash;letting
+fall her thimble, and bustling down to pick it up&mdash;occasionally taking
+an episodical race round the room with Rover, during which time Sister
+Emma added a stitch or two to the work.</p>
+
+<p>I would not wish to have been required, on oath, to give in my
+undisguised opinion as to the number of stitches the little one really
+put into her present, but she had a most genuine and firm conviction
+that she worked every stitch of it herself; and when, on returning from
+a scamper with pussy, she found one or two letters finished, she never
+doubted that the whole was of her own execution, and, of course, thought
+that working book marks was one of the most delightful occupations in
+the world. It was all that her little heart could do to keep from papa
+and mamma the wonderful secret. Every evening she would bustle about her
+father with an air of such great mystery, and seek to pique his
+curiosity by most skilful hints, such as,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I know somefing! but I s'ant tell you."</p>
+
+<p>"Not tell me! O Ally! Why not?"</p>
+
+<p>"O, it's about&mdash;a New 'Ear's pes&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Ally, Ally," resounds from several voices, "don't you tell."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I s'ant&mdash;but you are going to have a New 'Ear's pesant, and so is
+mamma, and you can't dess what it is."</p>
+
+<p>"Can't I?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, and I s'ant tell you."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Ally," said papa, pretending to look aggrieved.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it's going to be&mdash;somefin worked."</p>
+
+<p>"Ally, be careful," said Emma.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I'll be very tareful; it's somefin&mdash;<i>weall</i> pretty&mdash;somefin to put
+in a book. You'll find out about it by and by."</p>
+
+<p>"I think I'm in a fair way to," said the father.</p>
+
+<p>The conversation now digressed to other subjects, and the nurse came in
+to take Ally to bed; who, as she kissed her father, in the fulness of
+her heart, added a fresh burst of information. "Papa," said she, in an
+earnest whisper, "that <i>fin</i> is about so long"&mdash;measuring on her fat
+little arm.</p>
+
+<p>"A <i>fin</i>, Ally? Why, you are not going to give me a fish, are you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean that <i>thing</i>," said Ally, speaking the word with great effort,
+and getting quite red in the face.</p>
+
+<p>"O, that <i>thing</i>; I beg pardon, my lady; that puts another face on the
+communication," said the father, stroking her head fondly, as he bade
+her good night.</p>
+
+<p>"The child can talk plainer than she does," said the father, "but we are
+all so delighted with her little Hottentot dialect, that I don't know
+but she will keep it up till she is twenty."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>It now wanted only three days of the New Year, when a sudden and deadly
+shadow fell on the dwelling, late so busy and joyous&mdash;a shadow from the
+grave; and it fell on the flower of the garden&mdash;the star&mdash;the singing
+bird&mdash;the loved and loving Ally.</p>
+
+<p>She was stricken down at once, in the flush of her innocent enjoyment,
+by a fever, which from the first was ushered in with symptoms the most
+fearful.</p>
+
+<p>All the bustle of preparation ceased&mdash;the presents were forgotten or lay
+about unfinished, as if no one now had a heart to put their hand to any
+thing; while up in her little crib lay the beloved one, tossing and
+burning with restless fever, and without power to recognize any of the
+loved faces that bent over her.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor came twice a day, with a heavy step, and a face in which
+anxious care was too plainly written; and while he was there each member
+of the circle hung with anxious, imploring faces about him, as if to
+entreat him to save their darling; but still the deadly disease held on
+its relentless course, in spite of all that could be done.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought myself prepared to meet God's will in any form it might
+come," said Winthrop to me; "but this one thing I had forgotten. It
+never entered into my head that my little Ally could die."</p>
+
+<p>The evening before New Year's, the deadly disease seemed to be
+progressing more rapidly than ever; and when the doctor came for his
+evening call, he found all the family gathered in mournful stillness
+around the little crib.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose," said the father, with an effort to speak calmly, "that this
+may be her last night with us."</p>
+
+<p>The doctor made no answer, and the whole circle of brothers and sisters
+broke out into bitter weeping.</p>
+
+<p>"It is just possible that she may live till to-morrow," said the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>"To-morrow&mdash;her birthday!" said the mother. "O Ally, Ally!"</p>
+
+<p>Wearily passed the watches of that night. Each brother and sister had
+kissed the pale little cheek, to bid farewell, and gone to their rooms,
+to sob themselves to sleep; and the father and mother and doctor alone
+watched around the bed. O, what a watch is that which despairing love
+keeps, waiting for death! Poor Rover, the companion of Ally's gayer
+hours, resolutely refused to be excluded from the sick chamber.
+Stretched under the little crib, he watched with unsleeping eyes every
+motion of the attendants, and as often as they rose to administer
+medicine, or change the pillow, or bathe the head, he would rise also,
+and look anxiously over the side of the crib, as if he understood all
+that was passing.</p>
+
+<p>About an hour past midnight, the child began to change; her moans became
+fainter and fainter, her restless movements ceased, and a deep and heavy
+sleep settled upon her.</p>
+
+<p>The parents looked wistfully on the doctor. "It is the last change," he
+said; "she will probably pass away before the daybreak."</p>
+
+<p>Heavier and deeper grew that sleep, and to the eye of the anxious
+watchers the little face grew paler and paler; yet by degrees the
+breathing became regular and easy, and a gentle moisture began to
+diffuse itself over the whole surface. A new hope began to dawn on the
+minds of the parents, as they pointed out these symptoms to the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>"All things are possible with God," said he, in answer to the inquiring
+looks he met, "and it may be that she will yet live."</p>
+
+<p>An hour more passed, and the rosy glow of the New Year's morning began
+to blush over the snowy whiteness of the landscape. Far off from the
+window could be seen the kindling glow of a glorious sunrise, looking
+all the brighter for the dark pines that half veiled it from view; and
+now a straight and glittering beam shot from the east into the still
+chamber. It fell on the golden hair and pale brow of the child, lighting
+it up as if an angel had smiled on it; and slowly the large blue eyes
+unclosed, and gazed dreamily around.</p>
+
+<p>"Ally, Ally," said the father, bending over her, trembling with
+excitement.</p>
+
+<p>"You are going to have a New 'Ear's pesent," whispered the little one,
+faintly smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"I believe from my heart that you are, sir!" said the doctor, who stood
+with his fingers on her pulse; "she has passed through the crisis of the
+disease, and we may hope."</p>
+
+<p>A few hours turned this hope to glad certainty; for with the elastic
+rapidity of infant life, the signs of returning vigor began to multiply,
+and ere evening the little one was lying in her father's arms, answering
+with languid smiles to the overflowing proofs of tenderness which every
+member of the family was showering upon her.</p>
+
+<p>"See, my children," said the father gently, "<i>this dear one</i> is <i>our</i>
+New Year's present. What can we render to God in return?"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_OLD_OAK_OF_ANDOVER" id="THE_OLD_OAK_OF_ANDOVER"></a>THE OLD OAK OF ANDOVER.</h2>
+
+<h3>A REVERY.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Silently, with dreamy languor, the fleecy snow is falling. Through the
+windows, flowery with blossoming geranium and heliotrope, through the
+downward sweep of crimson and muslin curtain, one watches it as the wind
+whirls and sways it in swift eddies.</p>
+
+<p>Right opposite our house, on our Mount Clear, is an old oak, the apostle
+of the primeval forest. Once, when this place was all wildwood, the man
+who was seeking a spot for the location of the buildings of Phillips
+Academy climbed this oak, using it as a sort of green watchtower, from
+whence he might gain a view of the surrounding country. Age and time,
+since then, have dealt hardly with the stanch old fellow. His limbs have
+been here and there shattered; his back begins to look mossy and
+dilapidated; but after all, there is a piquant, decided air about him,
+that speaks the old age of a tree of distinction, a kingly oak. To-day I
+see him standing, dimly revealed through the mist of falling snows;
+to-morrow's sun will show the outline of his gnarled limbs&mdash;all rose
+color with their soft snow burden; and again a few months, and spring
+will breathe on him, and he will draw a long breath, and break out once
+more, for the three hundredth time, perhaps, into a vernal crown of
+leaves. I sometimes think that leaves are the thoughts of trees, and
+that if we only knew it, we should find their life's experience recorded
+in them. Our oak! what a crop of meditations and remembrances must he
+have thrown forth, leafing out century after century. Awhile he spake
+and thought only of red deer and Indians; of the trillium that opened
+its white triangle in his shade; of the scented arbutus, fair as the
+pink ocean shell, weaving her fragrant mats in the moss at his feet; of
+feathery ferns, casting their silent shadows on the checkerberry leaves,
+and all those sweet, wild, nameless, half-mossy things, that live in the
+gloom of forests, and are only desecrated when brought to scientific
+light, laid out and stretched on a botanic bier. Sweet old forest
+days!&mdash;when blue jay, and yellow hammer, and bobalink made his leaves
+merry, and summer was a long opera of such music as Mozart dimly
+dreamed. But then came human kind bustling beneath; wondering, fussing,
+exploring, measuring, treading down flowers, cutting down trees, scaring
+bobalinks&mdash;and Andover, as men say, began to be settled.</p>
+
+<p>Staunch men were they&mdash;these Puritan fathers of Andover. The old oak
+must have felt them something akin to himself. Such strong, wrestling
+limbs had they, so gnarled and knotted were they, yet so outbursting
+with a green and vernal crown, yearly springing, of noble and generous
+thoughts, rustling with leaves which shall be for the healing of
+nations.</p>
+
+<p>These men were content with the hard, dry crust for themselves, that
+they might sow seeds of abundant food for us, their children; men out of
+whose hardness in enduring we gain leisure to be soft and graceful,
+through whose poverty we have become rich. Like Moses, they had for
+their portion only the pain and weariness of the wilderness, leaving to
+us the fruition of the promised land. Let us cherish for their sake the
+old oak, beautiful in its age as the broken statue of some antique
+wrestler, brown with time, yet glorious in its suggestion of past
+achievement.</p>
+
+<p>I think all this the more that I have recently come across the following
+passage in one of our religious papers. The writer expresses a kind of
+sentiment which one meets very often upon this subject, and leads one to
+wonder what glamour could have fallen on the minds of any of the
+descendants of the Puritans, that they should cast nettles on those
+honored graves where they should be proud to cast their laurels.</p>
+
+<p>"It is hard," he says, "for a lover of the beautiful&mdash;not a mere lover,
+but a believer in its divinity also&mdash;to forgive the Puritans, or to
+think charitably of them. It is hard for him to keep Forefathers' Day,
+or to subscribe to the Plymouth Monument; hard to look fairly at what
+they did, with the memory of what they destroyed rising up to choke
+thankfulness; for they were as one-sided and narrow-minded a set of men
+as ever lived, and saw one of Truth's faces only&mdash;the hard, stern,
+practical face, without loveliness, without beauty, and only half dear
+to God. The Puritan flew in the face of facts, not because he saw them
+and disliked them, but because he did not see them. He saw foolishness,
+lying, stealing, worldliness&mdash;the very mammon of unrighteousness rioting
+in the world and bearing sway&mdash;and he ran full tilt against the monster,
+hating it with a very mortal and mundane hatred, and anxious to see it
+bite the dust that his own horn might be exalted. It was in truth only
+another horn of the old dilemma, tossing and goring grace and beauty,
+and all the loveliness of life, as if they were the enemies instead of
+the sure friends of God and man."</p>
+
+<p>Now, to those who say this we must ask the question with which Socrates
+of old pursued the sophist: What <i>is</i> beauty? If beauty be only
+physical, if it appeal only to the senses, if it be only an enchantment
+of graceful forms, sweet sounds, then indeed there might be something of
+truth in this sweeping declaration that the Puritan spirit is the enemy
+of beauty.</p>
+
+<p>The very root and foundation of all artistic inquiry lies here. <i>What is
+beauty?</i> And to this question God forbid that we <i>Christians</i> should
+give a narrower answer than Plato gave in the old times before Christ
+arose, for he directs the aspirant who would discover the beautiful to
+"consider of greater value the beauty existing <i>in the soul</i>, than that
+existing in the body." More gracefully he teaches the same doctrine when
+he tells us that "there are two kinds of Venus, (beauty;) the one, the
+elder, who had no mother, and was the daughter of Uranus, (heaven,) whom
+we name the celestial; the other, younger, daughter of Jupiter and
+Dione, whom we call the vulgar."</p>
+
+<p>Now, if disinterestedness, faith, patience, piety, have a beauty
+celestial and divine, then were our fathers worshippers of the
+beautiful. If high-mindedness and spotless honor are beautiful things,
+they had those. What work of art can compare with a lofty and heroic
+life? Is it not better to <i>be</i> a Moses than to be a Michael Angelo
+making statues of Moses? Is not the <i>life</i> of Paul a sublimer work of
+art than Raphael's cartoons? Are not the patience, the faith, the
+undying love of Mary by the cross, more beautiful than all the Madonna
+paintings in the world. If, then, we would speak truly of our fathers,
+we should say that, having their minds fixed on that celestial beauty of
+which Plato speaks, they held in slight esteem that more common and
+earthly.</p>
+
+<p>Should we continue the parable in Plato's manner, we might say that the
+earthly and visible Venus, the outward grace of art and nature, was
+ordained of God as a priestess, through whom men were to gain access to
+the divine, invisible One; but that men, in their blindness, ever
+worship the priestess instead of the divinity.</p>
+
+<p>Therefore it is that great reformers so often must break the shrines and
+temples of the physical and earthly beauty, when they seek to draw men
+upward to that which is high and divine.</p>
+
+<p>Christ says of John the Baptist, "What went ye out for to see? A man
+clothed in soft raiment? Behold they which are clothed in soft raiment
+are in kings' palaces." So was it when our fathers came here. There were
+enough wearing soft raiment and dwelling in kings' palaces. Life in
+papal Rome and prelatic England was weighed down with blossoming luxury.
+There were abundance of people to think of pictures, and statues, and
+gems, and cameos, vases and marbles, and all manner of deliciousness.
+The world was all drunk with the enchantments of the lower Venus, and it
+was needful that these men should come, Baptist-like in the wilderness,
+in raiment of camel's hair. We need such men now. Art, they tell us, is
+waking in America; a love of the beautiful is beginning to unfold its
+wings; but what kind of art, and what kind of beauty? Are we to fill our
+houses with pictures and gems, and to see that even our drinking cup and
+vase is wrought in graceful pattern, and to lose our reverence for
+self-denial, honor, and faith?</p>
+
+<p>Is our Venus to be the frail, insnaring Aphrodite, or the starry, divine
+Urania?</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="OUR_WOOD_LOT_IN_WINTER" id="OUR_WOOD_LOT_IN_WINTER"></a>OUR WOOD LOT IN WINTER.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Our wood lot! Yes, we have arrived at the dignity of owning a wood lot,
+and for us simple folk there is something invigorating in the thought.
+To <span class="smcap">own</span> even a small spot of our dear old mother earth hath in it a
+relish of something stimulating to human nature. To own a meadow, with
+all its thousand-fold fringes of grasses, its broidery of monthly
+flowers, and its outriders of birds, and bees, and gold-winged
+insects&mdash;this is something that establishes one's heart. To own a clover
+patch or a buckwheat field is like possessing a self-moving manufactory
+for perfumes and sweetness; but a wood lot, rustling with dignified old
+trees&mdash;it makes a man rise in his own esteem; he might take off his hat
+to himself at the moment of acquisition.</p>
+
+<p>We do not marvel that the land-acquiring passion becomes a mania among
+our farmers, and particularly we do not wonder at a passion for wood
+land. That wide, deep chasm of conscious self-poverty and emptiness
+which lies at the bottom of every human heart, making men crave property
+as something to add to one's own bareness, and to ballast one's own
+specific levity, is sooner filled by land than any thing else.</p>
+
+<p>Your hoary New England farmer walks over his acres with a grim
+satisfaction. He sets his foot down with a hard stamp; <i>here</i> is
+reality. No moonshine bank stock! no swindling railroads! <i>Here</i> is
+<i>his</i> bank, and there is no defaulter here. All is true, solid, and
+satisfactory; he seems anchored to this life by it. So Pope, with fine
+tact, makes the old miser, making his will on his death bed, after
+parting with every thing, die, clinging to the possession of his <i>land</i>.
+He disposes with many a groan of this and that house, and this and that
+stock and security; but at last the <i>manor</i> is proposed to him.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">"The manor! hold!" he cried,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Not that; <i>I cannot part with that!</i>"&mdash;and died!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>In such terms we discoursed yesterday, Herr Professor and myself, while
+jogging along in an old-fashioned chaise to inspect a few acres of wood
+lot, the acquisition of which had let us, with great freshness, into
+these reflections.</p>
+
+<p>Does any fair lady shiver at the idea of a drive to the woods on the
+first of February? Let me assure her that in the coldest season Nature
+never wants her ornaments full worth looking at.</p>
+
+<p>See here, for instance&mdash;let us stop the old chaise, and get out a minute
+to look at this brook&mdash;one of our last summer's pets. What is he doing
+this winter? Let us at least say, "How do you do?" to him. Ah, here he
+is! and he and Jack Frost together have been turning the little gap in
+the old stone wall, through which he leaped down to the road, into a
+little grotto of Antiparos. Some old rough rails and boards that dropped
+over it are sheathed in plates of transparent silver. The trunks of the
+black alders are mailed with crystal; and the witch-hazel, and yellow
+osiers fringing its sedgy borders, are likewise shining through their
+glossy covering. Around every stem that rises from the water is a
+glittering ring of ice. The tags of the alder and the red berries of
+last summer's wild roses glitter now like a lady's pendant. As for the
+brook, he is wide awake and joyful; and where the roof of sheet ice
+breaks away, you can see his yellow-brown waters rattling and gurgling
+among the stones as briskly as they did last July. Down he springs! over
+the glossy-coated stone wall, throwing new sparkles into the fairy
+grotto around him; and widening daily from melting snows, and such other
+godsends, he goes chattering off under yonder mossy stone bridge, and we
+lose sight of him. It might be fancy, but it seemed that our watery
+friend tipped us a cheery wink as he passed, saying, "Fine weather, sir
+and madam; nice times these; and in April you'll find us all right; the
+flowers are making up their finery for the next season; there's to be a
+splendid display in a month or two."</p>
+
+<p>Then the cloud lights of a wintry sky have a clear purity and brilliancy
+that no other months can rival. The rose tints, and the shading of rose
+tint into gold, the flossy, filmy accumulation of illuminated vapor that
+drifts across the sky in a January afternoon, are beauties far exceeding
+those of summer.</p>
+
+<p>Neither are trees, as seen in winter, destitute of their own peculiar
+beauty. If it be a gorgeous study in summer time to watch the play of
+their abundant leafage, we still may thank winter for laying bare before
+us the grand and beautiful anatomy of the tree, with all its interlacing
+network of boughs, knotted on each twig with the buds of next year's
+promise. The fleecy and rosy clouds look all the more beautiful through
+the dark lace veil of yonder magnificent elms; and the down-drooping
+drapery of yonder willow hath its own grace of outline as it sweeps the
+bare snows. And these comical old apple trees, why, in summer they look
+like so many plump, green cushions, one as much like another as
+possible; but under the revealing light of winter every characteristic
+twist and jerk stands disclosed.</p>
+
+<p>One might moralize on this&mdash;how affliction, which strips us of all
+ornaments and accessories, and brings us down to the permanent and solid
+wood of our nature, develops such wide differences in people who before
+seemed not much distinct.</p>
+
+<p>But here! our pony's feet are now clinking on the icy path under the
+shadow of the white pines of "our wood lot." The path runs in a deep
+hollow, and on either hand rise slopes dark and sheltered with the
+fragrant white pine. White pines are favorites with us for many good
+reasons. We love their balsamic breath, the long, slender needles of
+their leaves, and, above all, the constant sibylline whisperings that
+never cease among their branches. In summer the ground beneath them is
+paved with a soft and cleanly matting of their last year's leaves; and
+then their talking seems to be of coolness ever dwelling far up in their
+fringy, waving hollows. And now, in winter time, we find the same smooth
+floor; for the heavy curtains above shut out the snow, and the same
+voices above whisper of shelter and quiet. "You are welcome," they say;
+"the north wind is gone to sleep; we are rocking him in our cradles. Sit
+down and be quiet from the cold." At the feet of these slumberous old
+pines we find many of our last summer's friends looking as good as new.
+The small, round-leafed partridgeberry weaves its viny mat, and lays out
+its scarlet fruit; and here are blackberry vines with leaves still
+green, though with a bluish tint, not unlike what invades mortal noses
+in such weather. Here, too, are the bright, varnished leaves of the
+Indian pine, and the vines of feathery green of which our Christmas
+garlands are made; and here, undaunted, though frozen to the very heart
+this cold day, is many another leafy thing which we met last summer
+rejoicing each in its own peculiar flower. What names they have received
+from scientific god-fathers at the botanic fount we know not; we have
+always known them by fairy nicknames of our own&mdash;the pet names of
+endearment which lie between Nature's children and us in her domestic
+circle.</p>
+
+<p>There is something peculiarly sweet to us about a certain mystical
+dreaminess and obscurity in these wild wood tribes, which we never wish
+to have brought out into the daylight of absolute knowledge. Every one
+of them was a self-discovered treasure of our childhood, as much our own
+as if God had made it on purpose and presented it; and it was ever a
+part of the joy to think we had found something that no one else knew,
+and so musing on them, we gave them names in our heart.</p>
+
+<p>We search about amid the sere, yellow skeletons of last summer's ferns,
+if haply winter have forgotten one green leaf for our home vase&mdash;in vain
+we rake, freezing our fingers through our fur gloves&mdash;there is not one.
+An icicle has pierced every heart; and there are no fern leaves except
+those miniature ones which each plant is holding in its heart, to be
+sent up in next summer's hour of joy. But here are mosses&mdash;tufts of all
+sorts; the white, crisp and crumbling, fair as winter frostwork; and
+here the feathery green of which French milliners make moss rose buds;
+and here the cup-moss&mdash;these we gather with some care, frozen as they
+are to the wintry earth.</p>
+
+<p>Now, stumbling up this ridge, we come to a little patch of hemlocks,
+spreading out their green wings, and making, in the ravine, a deep
+shelter, where many a fresh springing thing is standing, and where we
+gain much for our home vases. These pines are motherly creatures. One
+can think how it must rejoice the heart of a partridge or a rabbit to
+come from the dry, whistling sweep of a deciduous forest under the
+home-like shadow of their branches. "As for the stork, the fir trees are
+her house," says the Hebrew poet; and our fir trees, this winter, give
+shelter to much small game. Often, on the light-fallen snow, I meet
+their little footprints. They have a naive, helpless, innocent
+appearance, these little tracks, that softens my heart like a child's
+footprint. Not one of them is forgotten of our Father; and therefore I
+remember them kindly.</p>
+
+<p>And now, with cold toes and fingers, and arms full of leafy treasures,
+we plod our way back to the chaise. A pleasant song is in my ears from
+this old wood lot&mdash;it speaks of green and cheerful patience in life's
+hard weather. Not a scowling, sullen endurance, not a despairing,
+hand-dropping resignation, but a heart cheerfulness that holds on to
+every leaf, and twig, and flower, and bravely smiles and keeps green
+when frozen to the very heart, knowing that the winter is but for a
+season, and that the sunshine and bird singings shall return, and the
+last year's dry flower stalk give place to the risen, glorified flower.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="POEMS" id="POEMS"></a>POEMS.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="THE_CHARMER" id="THE_CHARMER"></a>THE CHARMER.</h2>
+
+
+<blockquote><p>"<i>Socrates.</i>&mdash;'However, you and Simmias appear to me as if you
+wished to sift this subject more thoroughly, and to be afraid, like
+children, lest, on the soul's departure from the body, winds should
+blow it away.'</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>"Upon this Cebes said, 'Endeavor to teach us better, Socrates. * *
+* Perhaps there is a childish spirit in our breast, that has such a
+dread. Let us endeavor to persuade him not to be afraid of death,
+as of hobgoblins.'</p>
+
+<p>"'But you must <i>charm</i> him every day,' said Socrates, 'until you
+have quieted his fears.'</p>
+
+<p>"'But whence, O Socrates,' he said, 'can we procure a skilful
+charmer for such a case, now you are about to leave us.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Greece is wide, Cebes,' he replied: 'and in it surely there are
+skilful men, and there are also many barbarous nations, all of
+which you should search, seeking such a charmer, sparing neither
+money nor toil, as there is nothing on which you can more
+reasonably spend your money.'"&mdash;(<i>Last conversation of Socrates
+with his disciples, as narrated by Plato in the Phædo.</i>)</p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"We need that <span class="smcap">Charmer</span>, for our hearts are sore<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With longings for the things that may not be;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Faint for the friends that shall return no more;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Dark with distrust, or wrung with agony.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"What is this life? and what to us is death?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Whence came we? whither go? and where are those<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who, in a moment stricken from our side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Passed to that land of shadow and repose?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And are they all dust? and dust must we become?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or are they living in some unknown clime?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall we regain them in that far-off home,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And live anew beyond the waves of time?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O man divine! on thee our souls have hung;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thou wert our teacher in these questions high;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, ah, this day divides thee from our side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And veils in dust thy kindly-guiding eye.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Where is that Charmer whom thou bidst us seek?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">On what far shores may his sweet voice be heard?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When shall these questions of our yearning souls<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Be answered by the bright Eternal Word?"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So spake the youth of Athens, weeping round,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When Socrates lay calmly down to die;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So spake the sage, prophetic of the hour<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When earth's fair morning star should rise on high.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They found Him not, those youths of soul divine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Long seeking, wandering, watching on life's shore&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Reasoning, aspiring, yearning for the light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Death came and found them&mdash;doubting as before.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But years passed on; and lo! the Charmer came&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Pure, simple, sweet, as comes the silver dew;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the world knew him not&mdash;he walked alone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Encircled only by his trusting few.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Like the Athenian sage rejected, scorned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Betrayed, condemned, his day of doom drew nigh;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He drew his faithful few more closely round,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And told them that <i>his</i> hour was come to die.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Let not your heart be troubled," then he said;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"My Father's house hath mansions large and fair;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I go before you to prepare your place;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I will return to take you with me there."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And since that hour the awful foe is charmed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And life and death are glorified and fair.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whither he went we know&mdash;the way we know&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And with firm step press on to meet him there.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="PILGRIMS_SONG_IN_THE_DESERT" id="PILGRIMS_SONG_IN_THE_DESERT"></a>PILGRIM'S SONG IN THE DESERT.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Tis morning now&mdash;upon the eastern hills<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Once more the sun lights up this cheerless scene;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But O, no morning in my Father's house<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Is dawning now, for there no night hath been.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ten thousand thousand now, on Zion's hills,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">All robed in white, with palmy crowns, do stray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While I, an exile, far from fatherland,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Still wandering, faint along the desert way.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O home! dear home! my own, my native home!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">O Father, friends, when shall I look on you?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When shall these weary wanderings be o'er,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And I be gathered back to stray no more?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O thou, the brightness of whose gracious face<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">These weary, longing eyes have never seen,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By whose dear thought, for whose beloved sake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My course, through toil and tears, I daily take,&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I think of thee when the myrrh-dropping morn<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Steps forth upon the purple eastern steep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I think of thee in the fair eventide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When the bright-sandalled stars their watches keep.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And trembling hope, and fainting, sorrowing love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">On thy dear word for comfort doth rely;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And clear-eyed Faith, with strong forereaching gaze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Beholds thee here, unseen, but ever nigh.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Walking in white with thee, she dimly sees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">All beautiful, these lovely ones withdrawn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With whom my heart went upward, as they rose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Like morning stars, to light a coming dawn.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">All sinless now, and crowned, and glorified,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Where'er thou movest move they still with thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As erst, in sweet communion by thy side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Walked John and Mary in old Galilee.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But hush, my heart! 'Tis but a day or two<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Divides thee from that bright, immortal shore.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rise up! rise up! and gird thee for the race!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Fast fly the hours, and all will soon be o'er.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thou hast the new name written in thy soul;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thou hast the mystic stone he gives his own.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy soul, made one with him, shall feel no more<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That she is walking on her path alone.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="MARY_AT_THE_CROSS" id="MARY_AT_THE_CROSS"></a>MARY AT THE CROSS.</h2>
+
+
+<blockquote><p>"Now there stood by the cross of Jesus his mother."</p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O wondrous mother! Since the dawn of time<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was ever joy, was ever grief like thine?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O, highly favored in thy joy's deep flow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And favored e'en in this, thy bitterest woe!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Poor was that home in simple Nazareth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Where thou, fair growing, like some silent flower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Last of a kingly line,&mdash;unknown and lowly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">O desert lily,&mdash;passed thy childhood's hour.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The world knew not the tender, serious maiden,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Who, through deep loving years so silent grew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Filled with high thoughts and holy aspirations,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Which, save thy Father, God's, no eye might view.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And then it came, that message from the Highest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Such as to woman ne'er before descended;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Th' almighty shadowing wings thy soul o'erspread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And with thy life the Life of worlds was blended.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What visions, then, of future glory filled thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Mother of King and kingdom yet unknown&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mother, fulfiller of all prophecy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Which through dim ages wondering seers had shown!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Well did thy dark eye kindle, thy deep soul<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Rise into billows, and thy heart rejoice;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then woke the poet's fire, the prophet's song<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Tuned with strange, burning words thy timid voice.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then in dark contrast came the lowly manger,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The outcast shed, the tramp of brutal feet;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Again, behold earth's learned, and her lowly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sages and shepherds, prostrate at thy feet.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then to the temple bearing, hark! again<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">What strange, conflicting tones of prophecy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Breathe o'er the Child, foreshadowing words of joy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">High triumph, and yet bitter agony.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O, highly favored thou, in many an hour<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Spent in lone musing with thy wondrous Son,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When thou didst gaze into that glorious eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And hold that mighty hand within thy own.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Blessed through those thirty years, when in thy dwelling<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He lived a God disguised, with unknown power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thou, his sole adorer,&mdash;his best love,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Trusting, revering, waitedst for his hour.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Blessed in that hour, when called by opening heaven<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With cloud, and voice, and the baptizing flame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Up from the Jordan walked th' acknowledged stranger,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And awe-struck crowds grew silent as he came.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Blessed, when full of grace, with glory crowned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He from both hands almighty favors poured,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, though he had not where to lay his head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Brought to his feet alike the slave and lord.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Crowds followed; thousands shouted, "Lo, our King!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Fast beat thy heart; now, now the hour draws nigh:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Behold the crown&mdash;the throne! the nations bend.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Ah, no! fond mother, no! behold him die.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now by that cross thou tak'st thy final station,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And shar'st the last dark trial of thy Son;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not with weak tears or woman's lamentation,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But with high, silent anguish, like his own.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hail, highly favored, even in this deep passion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Hail, in this bitter anguish&mdash;thou art blest&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blest in the holy power with him to suffer<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Those deep death pangs that lead to higher rest.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">All now is darkness; and in that deep stillness<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The God-man wrestles with that mighty woe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hark to that cry, the rock of ages rending&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"'Tis finished!" Mother, all is glory now!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">By sufferings mighty as his mighty soul<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Hath the Jehovah risen&mdash;forever blest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And through all ages must his heart-beloved<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Through the same baptism enter the same rest.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHRISTIAN_PEACE" id="CHRISTIAN_PEACE"></a>CHRISTIAN PEACE.</h2>
+
+
+<blockquote><p>"Thou shalt hide them in the secret of thy presence from the pride
+of man; thou shalt keep them secretly as in a pavilion from the
+strife of tongues."</p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When winds are raging o'er the upper ocean,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And billows wild contend with angry roar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis said, far down beneath the wild commotion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That peaceful <i>stillness</i> reigneth evermore.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Far, far beneath, the noise of tempest dieth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And silver waves chime ever peacefully,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And no rude storm, how fierce soe'er he flieth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Disturbs the Sabbath of that deeper sea.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So to the heart that knows thy love, O Purest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">There is a temple, sacred evermore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the babble of life's angry voices<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Die in hushed stillness at its peaceful door.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Far, far away, the roar of passion dieth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And loving thoughts rise calm and peacefully,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And no rude storm, how fierce soe'er he flieth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Disturbs the soul that dwells, O Lord, in thee.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O, rest of rests! O, peace serene, eternal!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Thou</span> ever livest; and thou changest never;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in the <i>secret of thy presence</i> dwelleth<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Fulness of joy&mdash;forever and forever.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="ABIDE_IN_ME_AND_I_IN_YOU" id="ABIDE_IN_ME_AND_I_IN_YOU"></a>ABIDE IN ME AND I IN YOU.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE SOUL'S ANSWER.</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">That mystic word of thine, O sovereign Lord,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Is all too pure, too high, too deep for me;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Weary of striving, and with longing faint,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I breathe it back again in <i>prayer</i> to thee.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Abide in me, I pray, and I in thee;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From this good hour, O, leave me nevermore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then shall the discord cease, the wound be healed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The lifelong bleeding of the soul be o'er.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Abide in me&mdash;o'ershadow by thy love<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Each half-formed purpose and dark thought of sin;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quench, e'er it rise, each selfish, low desire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And keep my soul as thine, calm and divine.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As some rare perfume in a vase of clay<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Pervades it with a fragrance not its own,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So, when thou dwellest in a mortal soul,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">All heaven's own sweetness seems around it thrown.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The soul alone, like a neglected harp,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Grows out of tune, and needs a hand divine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dwell thou within it, tune, and touch the chords,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Till every note and string shall answer thine.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>Abide in me</i>; there have been moments pure<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When I have seen thy face and felt thy power;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then evil lost its grasp, and passion, hushed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Owned the divine enchantment of the hour.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">These were but seasons beautiful and rare;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"Abide in me,"&mdash;and they shall <i>ever be</i>;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fulfil at once thy precept and my prayer&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><i>Come</i> and <i>abide</i> in me, and I in thee.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="WHEN_I_AWAKE_I_AM_STILL_WITH_THEE" id="WHEN_I_AWAKE_I_AM_STILL_WITH_THEE"></a>WHEN I AWAKE I AM STILL WITH THEE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Still, still with thee, when purple morning breaketh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When the bird waketh and the shadows flee;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fairer than morning, lovelier than the daylight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Dawns the sweet consciousness, <i>I am with thee</i>!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Alone with thee, amid the mystic shadows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The solemn hush of nature newly born;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Alone with thee in breathless adoration,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In the calm dew and freshness of the morn.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As in the dawning o'er the waveless ocean<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The image of the morning star doth rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So in this stillness thou beholdest only<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thine image in the waters of my breast.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Still, still with thee! as to each new-born morning<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A fresh and solemn splendor still is given,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So doth this blessed consciousness, awaking,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Breathe, each day, nearness unto thee and heaven.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When sinks the soul, subdued by toil, to slumber,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Its closing eye looks up to thee in prayer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sweet the repose beneath thy wings o'ershading,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But sweeter still to wake and find thee there.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So shall it be at last, in that bright morning<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When the soul waketh and life's shadows flee;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O, in that hour, fairer than daylight dawning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Shall rise the glorious thought, <i>I am with thee</i>!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHRISTS_VOICE_IN_THE_SOUL" id="CHRISTS_VOICE_IN_THE_SOUL"></a>CHRIST'S VOICE IN THE SOUL.</h2>
+
+
+<blockquote><p>"Come ye yourselves into a desert place and rest a while; for there
+were many coming and going, so that they had no time so much as to
+eat."</p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Mid the mad whirl of life, its dim confusion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Its jarring discords and poor vanity,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Breathing like music over troubled waters,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">What gentle voice, O Christian, speaks to thee?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It is a stranger&mdash;not of earth or earthly;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By the serene, deep fulness of that eye,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By the calm, pitying smile, the gesture lowly,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">It is thy Savior as he passeth by.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Come, come," he saith, "into a desert place,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thou who art weary of life's lower sphere;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Leave its low strifes, forget its babbling noise;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Come thou with me&mdash;all shall be bright and clear.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Art thou bewildered by contesting voices,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sick to thy soul of party noise and strife?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come, leave it all, and seek that solitude<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Where thou shalt learn of me a purer life.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"When far behind the world's great tumult dieth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thou shalt look back and wonder at its roar;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But its far voice shall seem to thee a dream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Its power to vex thy holier life be o'er.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"There shalt thou learn the secret of a power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Mine to bestow, which heals the ills of living;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To overcome by love, to live by prayer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To conquer man's worst evils by forgiving."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>THE END.</h3>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Those particulars the writer heard stated personally as a
+part of the experience of one of the most devoted ministers of Ohio.</p></div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The May Flower, and Miscellaneous
+Writings, by Harriet Beecher Stowe
+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The May Flower, and Miscellaneous Writings, by
+Harriet Beecher Stowe
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The May Flower, and Miscellaneous Writings
+
+Author: Harriet Beecher Stowe
+
+Release Date: February 25, 2010 [EBook #31390]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAY FLOWER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Mary Meehan and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+book was produced from scanned images of public domain
+material from the Google Print project.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                                   The May Flower
+
+                                        and
+
+                               Miscellaneous Writings
+
+                              By Harriet Beecher Stowe
+
+     AUTHOR OF "UNCLE TOM'S CABIN," "SUNNY MEMORIES OF FOREIGN LANDS," ETC.
+
+
+BOSTON:
+PHILLIPS, SAMPSON, AND COMPANY,
+13 WINTER STREET
+1855.
+
+Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by
+PHILLIPS, SAMPSON, AND COMPANY,
+In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District
+of Massachusetts.
+
+STEREOTYPED AT THE
+BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Truly Yours, H B Stowe]
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION.
+
+
+Mr. G. B. Emerson, in his late report to the legislature of
+Massachusetts on the trees and shrubs of that state, thus describes
+The May Flower.
+
+"Often from beneath the edge of a snow bank are seen rising the
+fragrant, pearly-white or rose-colored flowers of this earliest
+harbinger of spring.
+
+"It abounds in the edges of the woods about Plymouth, as elsewhere, and
+must have been the first flower to salute the storm-beaten crew of the
+Mayflower on the conclusion of their first terrible winter. Their
+descendants have thence piously derived the name, although its bloom is
+often passed before the coming in of May."
+
+No flower could be more appropriately selected as an emblem token by the
+descendants of the Puritans. Though so fragrant and graceful, it is
+invariably the product of the hardest and most rocky soils, and seems to
+draw its ethereal beauty of color and wealth of perfume rather from the
+air than from the slight hold which its rootlets take of the earth. It
+may often be found in fullest beauty matting a granite lodge, with
+scarcely any perceptible soil for its support.
+
+What better emblem of that faith, and hope, and piety, by which our
+fathers were supported in dreary and barren enterprises, and which drew
+their life and fragrance from heaven more than earth?
+
+The May Flower was, therefore, many years since selected by the author
+as the title of a series of New England sketches. That work had
+comparatively a limited circulation, and is now entirely out of print.
+Its articles are republished in the present volume, with other
+miscellaneous writings, which have from time to time appeared in
+different periodicals. They have been written in all moods, from the
+gayest to the gravest--they are connected, in many cases, with the
+memory of friends and scenes most dear.
+
+There are those now scattered through the world who will remember the
+social literary parties of Cincinnati, for whose genial meetings many of
+these articles were prepared. With most affectionate remembrances, the
+author dedicates the book to the yet surviving members of The Semicolon.
+
+Andover, _April, 1855_.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+UNCLE LOT
+
+LOVE _versus_ LAW
+
+THE TEA ROSE
+
+TRIALS OF A HOUSEKEEPER
+
+LITTLE EDWARD
+
+AUNT MARY
+
+FRANKNESS
+
+THE SABBATH.--SKETCHES FROM A NOTE BOOK OF AN ELDERLY GENTLEMAN
+
+LET EVERY MAN MIND HIS OWN BUSINESS
+
+COUSIN WILLIAM
+
+THE MINISTRATION OF OUR DEPARTED FRIENDS.--A NEW YEAR'S REVERY
+
+MRS. A. AND MRS. B.; OR, WHAT SHE THINKS ABOUT IT
+
+CHRISTMAS; OR, THE GOOD FAIRY
+
+EARTHLY CARE A HEAVENLY DISCIPLINE
+
+CONVERSATION ON CONVERSATION
+
+HOW DO WE KNOW?
+
+WHICH IS THE LIBERAL MAN?
+
+THE ELDER'S FEAST.--A TRADITION OF LAODICEA
+
+LITTLE FRED, THE CANAL BOY
+
+THE CANAL BOAT
+
+FEELING
+
+THE SEAMSTRESS
+
+OLD FATHER MORRIS.--A SKETCH FROM NATURE
+
+THE TWO ALTARS, OR TWO PICTURES IN ONE
+
+A SCHOLAR'S ADVENTURES IN THE COUNTRY
+
+"WOMAN, BEHOLD THY SON!"
+
+THE CORAL RING
+
+ART AND NATURE
+
+CHILDREN
+
+HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS WITH MAMMON
+
+A SCENE IN JERUSALEM
+
+THE OLD MEETING HOUSE.--SKETCH FROM THE NOTE BOOK OF AN OLD GENTLEMAN
+
+THE NEW-YEAR'S GIFT
+
+THE OLD OAK OF ANDOVER.--A REVERY
+
+OUR WOOD LOT IN WINTER
+
+POEMS:--
+
+THE CHARMER
+
+PILGRIM'S SONG IN THE DESERT
+
+MARY AT THE CROSS
+
+CHRISTIAN PEACE
+
+ABIDE IN ME AND I IN YOU.--THE SOUL'S ANSWER
+
+WHEN I AWAKE I AM STILL WITH THEE
+
+CHRIST'S VOICE IN THE SOUL
+
+
+
+
+THE MAY FLOWER.
+
+
+
+
+UNCLE LOT.
+
+
+And so I am to write a story--but of what, and where? Shall it be
+radiant with the sky of Italy? or eloquent with the beau ideal of
+Greece? Shall it breathe odor and languor from the orient, or chivalry
+from the occident? or gayety from France? or vigor from England? No, no;
+these are all too old--too romance-like--too obviously picturesque for
+me. No; let me turn to my own land--my own New England; the land of
+bright fires and strong hearts; the land of _deeds_, and not of words;
+the land of fruits, and not of flowers; the land often spoken against,
+yet always respected; "the latchet of whose shoes the nations of the
+earth are not worthy to unloose."
+
+Now, from this very heroic apostrophe, you may suppose that I have
+something very heroic to tell. By no means. It is merely a little
+introductory breeze of patriotism, such as occasionally brushes over
+every mind, bearing on its wings the remembrance of all we ever loved or
+cherished in the land of our early years; and if it should seem to be
+rodomontade to any people in other parts of the earth, let them only
+imagine it to be said about "Old Kentuck," old England, or any other
+corner of the world in which they happened to be born, and they will
+find it quite rational.
+
+But, as touching our story, it is time to begin. Did you ever see the
+little village of Newbury, in New England? I dare say you never did; for
+it was just one of those out of the way places where nobody ever came
+unless they came on purpose: a green little hollow, wedged like a bird's
+nest between half a dozen high hills, that kept off the wind and kept
+out foreigners; so that the little place was as straitly _sui generis_
+as if there were not another in the world. The inhabitants were all of
+that respectable old standfast family who make it a point to be born,
+bred, married, die, and be buried all in the selfsame spot. There were
+just so many houses, and just so many people lived in them; and nobody
+ever seemed to be sick, or to die either, at least while I was there.
+The natives grew old till they could not grow any older, and then they
+stood still, and _lasted_ from generation to generation. There was, too,
+an unchangeability about all the externals of Newbury. Here was a red
+house, and there was a brown house, and across the way was a yellow
+house; and there was a straggling rail fence or a tribe of mullein
+stalks between. The minister lived here, and 'Squire Moses lived there,
+and Deacon Hart lived under the hill, and Messrs. Nadab and Abihu Peters
+lived by the cross road, and the old "widder" Smith lived by the meeting
+house, and Ebenezer Camp kept a shoemaker's shop on one side, and
+Patience Mosely kept a milliner's shop in front; and there was old
+Comfort Scran, who kept store for the whole town, and sold axe heads,
+brass thimbles, licorice ball, fancy handkerchiefs, and every thing else
+you can think of. Here, too, was the general post office, where you
+might see letters marvellously folded, directed wrong side upward,
+stamped with a thimble, and superscribed to some of the Dollys, or
+Pollys, or Peters, or Moseses aforenamed or not named.
+
+For the rest, as to manners, morals, arts, and sciences, the people in
+Newbury always went to their parties at three o'clock in the afternoon,
+and came home before dark; always stopped all work the minute the sun
+was down on Saturday night; always went to meeting on Sunday; had a
+school house with all the ordinary inconveniences; were in neighborly
+charity with each other; read their Bibles, feared their God, and were
+content with such things as they had--the best philosophy, after all.
+Such was the place into which Master James Benton made an irruption in
+the year eighteen hundred and no matter what. Now, this James is to be
+our hero, and he is just the hero for a sensation--at least, so you
+would have thought, if you had been in Newbury the week after his
+arrival. Master James was one of those whole-hearted, energetic Yankees,
+who rise in the world as naturally as cork does in water. He possessed a
+great share of that characteristic national trait so happily denominated
+"cuteness," which signifies an ability to do every thing without trying,
+and to know every thing without learning, and to make more use of one's
+_ignorance_ than other people do of their knowledge. This quality in
+James was mingled with an elasticity of animal spirits, a buoyant
+cheerfulness of mind, which, though found in the New England character,
+perhaps, as often as any where else, is not ordinarily regarded as one
+of its distinguishing traits.
+
+As to the personal appearance of our hero, we have not much to say of
+it--not half so much as the girls in Newbury found it necessary to
+remark, the first Sabbath that he shone out in the meeting house. There
+was a saucy frankness of countenance, a knowing roguery of eye, a
+joviality and prankishness of demeanor, that was wonderfully
+captivating, especially to the ladies.
+
+It is true that Master James had an uncommonly comfortable opinion of
+himself, a full faith that there was nothing in creation that he could
+not learn and could not do; and this faith was maintained with an
+abounding and triumphant joyfulness, that fairly carried your sympathies
+along with him, and made you feel quite as much delighted with his
+qualifications and prospects as he felt himself. There are two kinds of
+self-sufficiency; one is amusing, and the other is provoking. His was
+the amusing kind. It seemed, in truth, to be only the buoyancy and
+overflow of a vivacious mind, delighted with every thing delightful, in
+himself or others. He was always ready to magnify his own praise, but
+quite as ready to exalt his neighbor, if the channel of discourse ran
+that way: his own perfections being more completely within his
+knowledge, he rejoiced in them more constantly; but, if those of any one
+else came within the same range, he was quite as much astonished and
+edified as if they had been his own.
+
+Master James, at the time of his transit to the town of Newbury, was
+only eighteen years of age; so that it was difficult to say which
+predominated in him most, the boy or the man. The belief that he could,
+and the determination that he would, be something in the world had
+caused him to abandon his home, and, with all his worldly effects tied
+in a blue cotton pocket handkerchief, to proceed to seek his fortune in
+Newbury. And never did stranger in Yankee village rise to promotion with
+more unparalleled rapidity, or boast a greater plurality of employment.
+He figured as schoolmaster all the week, and as chorister on Sundays,
+and taught singing and reading in the evenings, besides studying Latin
+and Greek with the minister, nobody knew when; thus fitting for college,
+while he seemed to be doing every thing else in the world besides.
+
+James understood every art and craft of popularity, and made himself
+mightily at home in all the chimney corners of the region round about;
+knew the geography of every body's cider barrel and apple bin, helping
+himself and every one else therefrom with all bountifulness; rejoicing
+in the good things of this life, devouring the old ladies' doughnuts and
+pumpkin pies with most flattering appetite, and appearing equally to
+relish every body and thing that came in his way.
+
+The degree and versatility of his acquirements were truly wonderful. He
+knew all about arithmetic and history, and all about catching squirrels
+and planting corn; made poetry and hoe handles with equal celerity;
+wound yarn and took out grease spots for old ladies, and made nosegays
+and knickknacks for young ones; caught trout Saturday afternoons, and
+discussed doctrines on Sundays, with equal adroitness and effect. In
+short, Mr. James moved on through the place
+
+           "Victorious,
+    Happy and glorious,"
+
+welcomed and privileged by every body in every place; and when he had
+told his last ghost story, and fairly flourished himself out of doors at
+the close of a long winter's evening, you might see the hard face of the
+good man of the house still phosphorescent with his departing radiance,
+and hear him exclaim, in a paroxysm of admiration, that "Jemeses talk
+re'ely did beat all; that he was sartainly most a miraculous cre'tur!"
+
+It was wonderfully contrary to the buoyant activity of Master James's
+mind to keep a school. He had, moreover, so much of the boy and the
+rogue in his composition, that he could not be strict with the
+iniquities of the curly pates under his charge; and when he saw how
+determinately every little heart was boiling over with mischief and
+motion, he felt in his soul more disposed to join in and help them to a
+frolic than to lay justice to the line, as was meet. This would have
+made a sad case, had it not been that the activity of the master's mind
+communicated itself to his charge, just as the reaction of one brisk
+little spring will fill a manufactory with motion; so that there was
+more of an impulse towards study in the golden, good-natured day of
+James Benton than in the time of all that went before or came after him.
+
+But when "school was out," James's spirits foamed over as naturally as a
+tumbler of soda water, and he could jump over benches and burst out of
+doors with as much rapture as the veriest little elf in his company.
+Then you might have seen him stepping homeward with a most felicitous
+expression of countenance, occasionally reaching his hand through the
+fence for a bunch of currants, or over it after a flower, or bursting
+into some back yard to help an old lady empty her wash tub, or stopping
+to pay his _devoirs_ to Aunt This or Mistress That, for James well knew
+the importance of the "powers that be," and always kept the sunny side
+of the old ladies.
+
+We shall not answer for James's general flirtations, which were sundry
+and manifold; for he had just the kindly heart that fell in love with
+every thing in feminine shape that came in his way, and if he had not
+been blessed with an equal facility in falling out again, we do not know
+what ever would have become of him. But at length he came into an
+abiding captivity, and it is quite time that he should; for, having
+devoted thus much space to the illustration of our hero, it is fit we
+should do something in behalf of our heroine; and, therefore, we must
+beg the reader's attention while we draw a diagram or two that will
+assist him in gaining a right idea of her.
+
+Do you see yonder brown house, with its broad roof sloping almost to the
+ground on one side, and a great, unsupported, sun bonnet of a piazza
+shooting out over the front door? You must often have noticed it; you
+have seen its tall well sweep, relieved against the clear evening sky,
+or observed the feather beds and bolsters lounging out of its chamber
+windows on a still summer morning; you recollect its gate, that swung
+with a chain and a great stone; its pantry window, latticed with little
+brown slabs, and looking out upon a forest of bean poles. You remember
+the zephyrs that used to play among its pea brush, and shake the long
+tassels of its corn patch, and how vainly any zephyr might essay to
+perform similar flirtations with the considerate cabbages that were
+solemnly vegetating near by. Then there was the whole neighborhood of
+purple-leaved beets and feathery parsnips; there were the billows of
+gooseberry bushes rolled up by the fence, interspersed with rows of
+quince trees; and far off in one corner was one little patch,
+penuriously devoted to ornament, which flamed with marigolds, poppies,
+snappers, and four-o'clocks. Then there was a little box by itself with
+one rose geranium in it, which seemed to look around the garden as much
+like a stranger as a French dancing master in a Yankee meeting house.
+
+That is the dwelling of Uncle Lot Griswold. Uncle Lot, as he was
+commonly called, had a character that a painter would sketch for its
+lights and contrasts rather than its symmetry. He was a chestnut burr,
+abounding with briers without and with substantial goodness within. He
+had the strong-grained practical sense, the calculating worldly wisdom
+of his class of people in New England; he had, too, a kindly heart; but
+all the strata of his character were crossed by a vein of surly
+petulance, that, half way between joke and earnest, colored every thing
+that he said and did.
+
+If you asked a favor of Uncle Lot, he generally kept you arguing half an
+hour, to prove that you really needed it, and to tell you that he could
+not all the while be troubled with helping one body or another, all
+which time you might observe him regularly making his preparations to
+grant your request, and see, by an odd glimmer of his eye, that he was
+preparing to let you hear the "conclusion of the whole matter," which
+was, "Well, well--I guess--I'll go, on the _hull_--I 'spose I must, at
+least;" so off he would go and work while the day lasted, and then wind
+up with a farewell exhortation "not to be a callin' on your neighbors
+when you could get along without." If any of Uncle Lot's neighbors were
+in any trouble, he was always at hand to tell them that "they shouldn't
+a' done so;" that "it was strange they couldn't had more sense;" and
+then to close his exhortations by laboring more diligently than any to
+bring them out of their difficulties, groaning in spirit, meanwhile,
+that folks would make people so much trouble.
+
+"Uncle Lot, father wants to know if you will lend him your hoe to-day,"
+says a little boy, making his way across a cornfield.
+
+"Why don't your father use his own hoe?"
+
+"Ours is broke."
+
+"Broke! How came it broke?"
+
+"I broke it yesterday, trying to hit a squirrel."
+
+"What business had you to be hittin' squirrels with a hoe? say!"
+
+"But father wants to borrow yours."
+
+"Why don't you have that mended? It's a great pester to have every body
+usin' a body's things."
+
+"Well, I can borrow one some where else, I suppose," says the suppliant.
+After the boy has stumbled across the ploughed ground, and is fairly
+over the fence, Uncle Lot calls,--
+
+"Halloo, there, you little rascal! what are you goin' off without the
+hoe for?"
+
+"I didn't know as you meant to lend it."
+
+"I didn't say I wouldn't, did I? Here, come and take it.--stay, I'll
+bring it; and do tell your father not to be a lettin' you hunt squirrels
+with his hoes next time."
+
+Uncle Lot's household consisted of Aunt Sally, his wife, and an only son
+and daughter; the former, at the time our story begins, was at a
+neighboring literary institution. Aunt Sally was precisely as clever, as
+easy to be entreated, and kindly in externals, as her helpmate was the
+reverse. She was one of those respectable, pleasant old ladies whom you
+might often have met on the way to church on a Sunday, equipped with a
+great fan and a psalm book, and carrying some dried orange peel or a
+stalk of fennel, to give to the children if they were sleepy in meeting.
+She was as cheerful and domestic as the tea kettle that sung by her
+kitchen fire, and slipped along among Uncle Lot's angles and
+peculiarities as if there never was any thing the matter in the world;
+and the same mantle of sunshine seemed to have fallen on Miss Grace, her
+only daughter.
+
+Pretty in her person and pleasant in her ways, endowed with native
+self-possession and address, lively and chatty, having a mind and a will
+of her own, yet good-humored withal, Miss Grace was a universal
+favorite. It would have puzzled a city lady to understand how Grace, who
+never was out of Newbury in her life, knew the way to speak, and act,
+and behave, on all occasions, exactly as if she had been taught how. She
+was just one of those wild flowers which you may sometimes see waving
+its little head in the woods, and looking so civilized and garden-like,
+that you wonder if it really did come up and grow there by nature. She
+was an adept in all household concerns, and there was something
+amazingly pretty in her energetic way of bustling about, and "putting
+things to rights." Like most Yankee damsels, she had a longing after the
+tree of knowledge, and, having exhausted the literary fountains of a
+district school, she fell to reading whatsoever came in her way. True,
+she had but little to read; but what she perused she had her own
+thoughts upon, so that a person of information, in talking with her,
+would feel a constant wondering pleasure to find that she had so much
+more to say of this, that, and the other thing than he expected.
+
+Uncle Lot, like every one else, felt the magical brightness of his
+daughter, and was delighted with her praises, as might be discerned by
+his often finding occasion to remark that "he didn't see why the boys
+need to be all the time a' comin' to see Grace, for she was nothing so
+extror'nary, after all." About all matters and things at home she
+generally had her own way, while Uncle Lot would scold and give up with
+a regular good grace that was quite creditable.
+
+"Father," says Grace, "I want to have a party next week."
+
+"You sha'n't go to havin' your parties, Grace. I always have to eat bits
+and ends a fortnight after you have one, and I won't have it so." And so
+Uncle Lot walked out, and Aunt Sally and Miss Grace proceeded to make
+the cake and pies for the party.
+
+When Uncle Lot came home, he saw a long array of pies and rows of cakes
+on the kitchen table.
+
+"Grace--Grace--Grace, I say! What is all this here flummery for?"
+
+"Why, it is _to eat_, father," said Grace, with a good-natured look of
+consciousness.
+
+Uncle Lot tried his best to look sour; but his visage began to wax
+comical as he looked at his merry daughter; so he said nothing, but
+quietly sat down to his dinner.
+
+"Father," said Grace, after dinner, "we shall want two more candlesticks
+next week."
+
+"Why, can't you have your party with what you've got?"
+
+"No, father, we want two more."
+
+"I can't afford it, Grace--there's no sort of use on't--and you sha'n't
+have any."
+
+"O, father, now do," said Grace.
+
+"I won't, neither," said Uncle Lot, as he sallied out of the house, and
+took the road to Comfort Scran's store.
+
+In half an hour he returned again; and fumbling in his pocket, and
+drawing forth a candlestick, levelled it at Grace.
+
+"There's your candlestick."
+
+"But, father, I said I wanted _two_."
+
+"Why, can't you make one do?"
+
+"No, I can't; I must have two."
+
+"Well, then, there's t'other; and here's a fol-de-rol for you to tie
+round your neck." So saying, he bolted for the door, and took himself
+off with all speed. It was much after this fashion that matters commonly
+went on in the brown house.
+
+But having tarried long on the way, we must proceed with the main story.
+
+James thought Miss Grace was a glorious girl; and as to what Miss Grace
+thought of Master James, perhaps it would not have been developed had
+she not been called to stand on the defensive for him with Uncle Lot.
+For, from the time that the whole village of Newbury began to be wholly
+given unto the praise of Master James, Uncle Lot set his face as a flint
+against him--from the laudable fear of following the multitude. He
+therefore made conscience of stoutly gainsaying every thing that was
+said in his behalf, which, as James was in high favor with Aunt Sally,
+he had frequent opportunities to do.
+
+So when Miss Grace perceived that Uncle Lot did not like our hero as
+much as he ought to do, she, of course, was bound to like him well
+enough to make up for it. Certain it is that they were remarkably happy
+in finding opportunities of being acquainted; that James waited on her,
+as a matter of course, from singing school; that he volunteered making a
+new box for her geranium on an improved plan; and above all, that he was
+remarkably particular in his attentions to Aunt Sally--a stroke of
+policy which showed that James had a natural genius for this sort of
+matters. Even when emerging from the meeting house in full glory, with
+flute and psalm book under his arm, he would stop to ask her how she
+did; and if it was cold weather, he would carry her foot stove all the
+way home from meeting, discoursing upon the sermon, and other serious
+matters, as Aunt Sally observed, "in the pleasantest, prettiest way that
+ever ye see." This flute was one of the crying sins of James in the eyes
+of Uncle Lot. James was particularly fond of it, because he had learned
+to play on it by intuition; and on the decease of the old pitchpipe,
+which was slain by a fall from the gallery, he took the liberty to
+introduce the flute in its place. For this, and other sins, and for the
+good reasons above named, Uncle Lot's countenance was not towards James,
+neither could he be moved to him-ward by any manner of means.
+
+To all Aunt Sally's good words and kind speeches, he had only to say
+that "he didn't like him; that he hated to see him a' manifesting and
+glorifying there in the front gallery Sundays, and a' acting every where
+as if he was master of all: he didn't like it, and he wouldn't." But our
+hero was no whit cast down or discomfited by the malcontent aspect of
+Uncle Lot. On the contrary, when report was made to him of divers of his
+hard speeches, he only shrugged his shoulders, with a very satisfied
+air, and remarked that "he knew a thing or two for all that."
+
+"Why, James," said his companion and chief counsellor, "do you think
+Grace likes you?"
+
+"I don't know," said our hero, with a comfortable appearance of
+certainty.
+
+"But you can't get her, James, if Uncle Lot is cross about it."
+
+"Fudge! I can make Uncle Lot like me if I have a mind to try."
+
+"Well then, Jim, you'll have to give up that flute of yours, I tell you
+now."
+
+"Fa, sol, la--I can make him like me and my flute too."
+
+"Why, how will you do it?"
+
+"O, I'll work it," said our hero.
+
+"Well, Jim, I tell you now, you don't know Uncle Lot if you say so; for
+he is just the _settest_ critter in his way that ever you saw."
+
+"I _do_ know Uncle Lot, though, better than most folks; he is no more
+cross than I am; and as to his being _set_, you have nothing to do but
+make him think he is in his own way when he is in yours--that is all."
+
+"Well," said the other, "but you see I don't believe it."
+
+"And I'll bet you a gray squirrel that I'll go there this very evening,
+and get him to like me and my flute both," said James.
+
+Accordingly the late sunshine of that afternoon shone full on the yellow
+buttons of James as he proceeded to the place of conflict. It was a
+bright, beautiful evening. A thunder storm had just cleared away, and
+the silver clouds lay rolled up in masses around the setting sun; the
+rain drops were sparkling and winking to each other over the ends of the
+leaves, and all the bluebirds and robins, breaking forth into song, made
+the little green valley as merry as a musical box.
+
+James's soul was always overflowing with that kind of poetry which
+consists in feeling unspeakably happy; and it is not to be wondered at,
+considering where he was going, that he should feel in a double ecstasy
+on the present occasion. He stepped gayly along, occasionally springing
+over a fence to the right to see whether the rain had swollen the trout
+brook, or to the left to notice the ripening of Mr. Somebody's
+watermelons--for James always had an eye on all his neighbors' matters
+as well as his own.
+
+In this way he proceeded till he arrived at the picket fence that marked
+the commencement of Uncle Lot's ground. Here he stopped to consider.
+Just then four or five sheep walked up, and began also to consider a
+loose picket, which was hanging just ready to drop off; and James began
+to look at the sheep. "Well, mister," said he, as he observed the leader
+judiciously drawing himself through the gap, "in with you--just what I
+wanted;" and having waited a moment to ascertain that all the company
+were likely to follow, he ran with all haste towards the house, and
+swinging open the gate, pressed all breathless to the door.
+
+"Uncle Lot, there are four or five sheep in your garden!" Uncle Lot
+dropped his whetstone and scythe.
+
+"I'll drive them out," said our hero; and with that, he ran down the
+garden alley, and made a furious descent on the enemy; bestirring
+himself, as Bunyan says, "lustily and with good courage," till every
+sheep had skipped out much quicker than it skipped in; and then,
+springing over the fence, he seized a great stone, and nailed on the
+picket so effectually that no sheep could possibly encourage the hope of
+getting in again. This was all the work of a minute, and he was back
+again; but so exceedingly out of breath that it was necessary for him to
+stop a moment and rest himself. Uncle Lot looked ungraciously satisfied.
+
+"What under the canopy set you to scampering so?" said he; "I could a'
+driv out them critturs myself."
+
+"If you are at all particular about driving them out _yourself_, I can
+let them in again," said James.
+
+Uncle Lot looked at him with an odd sort of twinkle in the corner of his
+eye.
+
+"'Spose I must ask you to walk in," said he.
+
+"Much obliged," said James; "but I am in a great hurry." So saying, he
+started in very business-like fashion towards the gate.
+
+"You'd better jest stop a minute."
+
+"Can't stay a minute."
+
+"I don't see what possesses you to be all the while in sich a hurry; a
+body would think you had all creation on your shoulders."
+
+"Just my situation, Uncle Lot," said James, swinging open the gate.
+
+"Well, at any rate, have a drink of cider, can't ye?" said Uncle Lot,
+who was now quite engaged to have his own way in the case.
+
+James found it convenient to accept this invitation, and Uncle Lot was
+twice as good-natured as if he had staid in the first of the matter.
+
+Once fairly forced into the premises, James thought fit to forget his
+long walk and excess of business, especially as about that moment Aunt
+Sally and Miss Grace returned from an afternoon call. You may be sure
+that the last thing these respectable ladies looked for was to find
+Uncle Lot and Master James _tete-a-tete_, over a pitcher of cider; and
+when, as they entered, our hero looked up with something of a
+mischievous air, Miss Grace, in particular, was so puzzled that it took
+her at least a quarter of an hour to untie her bonnet strings. But James
+staid, and acted the agreeable to perfection. First, he must needs go
+down into the garden to look at Uncle Lot's wonderful cabbages, and then
+he promenaded all around the corn patch, stopping every few moments and
+looking up with an appearance of great gratification, as if he had never
+seen such corn in his life; and then he examined Uncle Lot's favorite
+apple tree with an expression of wonderful interest.
+
+"I never!" he broke forth, having stationed himself against the fence
+opposite to it; "what kind of an apple tree is that?"
+
+"It's a bellflower, or somethin' another," said Uncle Lot.
+
+"Why, where _did_ you get it? I never saw such apples!" said our hero,
+with his eyes still fixed on the tree.
+
+Uncle Lot pulled up a stalk or two of weeds, and threw them over the
+fence, just to show that he did not care any thing about the matter; and
+then he came up and stood by James.
+
+"Nothin' so remarkable, as I know on," said he.
+
+Just then, Grace came to say that supper was ready. Once seated at
+table, it was astonishing to see the perfect and smiling assurance with
+which our hero continued his addresses to Uncle Lot. It sometimes goes a
+great way towards making people like us to take it for granted that they
+do already; and upon this principle James proceeded. He talked, laughed,
+told stories, and joked with the most fearless assurance, occasionally
+seconding his words by looking Uncle Lot in the face, with a countenance
+so full of good will as would have melted any snowdrift of prejudices in
+the world.
+
+James also had one natural accomplishment, more courtier-like than all
+the diplomacy in Europe, and that was the gift of feeling a _real_
+interest for any body in five minutes; so that, if he began to please in
+jest, he generally ended in earnest. With great simplicity of mind, he
+had a natural tact for seeing into others, and watched their motions
+with the same delight with which a child gazes at the wheels and springs
+of a watch, to "see what it will do."
+
+The rough exterior and latent kindness of Uncle Lot were quite a
+spirit-stirring study; and when tea was over, as he and Grace happened
+to be standing together in the front door, he broke forth,--
+
+"I do really like your father, Grace!"
+
+"Do you?" said Grace.
+
+"Yes, I do. He has something _in him_, and I like him all the better for
+having to fish it out."
+
+"Well, I hope you will make him like you," said Grace, unconsciously;
+and then she stopped, and looked a little ashamed.
+
+James was too well bred to see this, or look as if Grace meant any more
+than she said--a kind of breeding not always attendant on more
+fashionable polish--so he only answered,--
+
+"I think I shall, Grace, though I doubt whether I can get him to own
+it."
+
+"He is the kindest man that ever was," said Grace; "and he always acts
+as if he was ashamed of it."
+
+James turned a little away, and looked at the bright evening sky, which
+was glowing like a calm, golden sea; and over it was the silver new
+moon, with one little star to hold the candle for her. He shook some
+bright drops off from a rosebush near by, and watched to see them shine
+as they fell, while Grace stood very quietly waiting for him to speak
+again.
+
+"Grace," said he, at last, "I am going to college this fall."
+
+"So you told me yesterday," said Grace.
+
+James stooped down over Grace's geranium, and began to busy himself with
+pulling off all the dead leaves, remarking in the mean while,--
+
+"And if I do get _him_ to like me, Grace, will you like me too?"
+
+"I like you now very well," said Grace.
+
+"Come, Grace, you know what I mean," said James, looking steadfastly at
+the top of the apple tree.
+
+"Well, I wish, then, you would understand what _I_ mean, without my
+saying any more about it," said Grace.
+
+"O, to be sure I will!" said our hero, looking up with a very
+intelligent air; and so, as Aunt Sally would say, the matter was
+settled, with "no words about it."
+
+Now shall we narrate how our hero, as he saw Uncle Lot approaching the
+door, had the impudence to take out his flute, and put the parts
+together, arranging and adjusting the stops with great composure?
+
+"Uncle Lot," said he, looking up, "this is the best flute that ever I
+saw."
+
+"I hate them tooting critturs," said Uncle Lot, snappishly.
+
+"I declare! I wonder how you can," said James, "for I do think they
+exceed----"
+
+So saying, he put the flute to his mouth, and ran up and down a long
+flourish.
+
+"There! what do you think of that?" said he, looking in Uncle Lot's face
+with much delight.
+
+Uncle Lot turned and marched into the house, but soon faced to the
+right-about, and came out again, for James was fingering "Yankee
+Doodle"--that appropriate national air for the descendants of the
+Puritans.
+
+Uncle Lot's patriotism began to bestir itself; and now, if it had been
+any thing, as he said, but "that 'are flute"--as it was, he looked more
+than once at James's fingers.
+
+"How under the sun _could_ you learn to do that?" said he.
+
+"O, it's easy enough," said James, proceeding with another tune; and,
+having played it through, he stopped a moment to examine the joints of
+his flute, and in the mean time addressed Uncle Lot: "You can't think
+how grand this is for pitching tunes--I always pitch the tunes on Sunday
+with it."
+
+"Yes; but I don't think it's a right and fit instrument for the Lord's
+house," said Uncle Lot.
+
+"Why not? It is only a kind of a long pitchpipe, you see," said James;
+"and, seeing the old one is broken, and this will answer, I don't see
+why it is not better than nothing."
+
+"Why, yes, it may be better than nothing," said Uncle Lot; "but, as I
+always tell Grace and my wife, it ain't the right kind of instrument,
+after all; it ain't solemn."
+
+"Solemn!" said James; "that is according as you work it: see here, now."
+
+So saying, he struck up Old Hundred, and proceeded through it with great
+perseverance.
+
+"There, now!" said he.
+
+"Well, well, I don't know but it is," said Uncle Lot; "but, as I said at
+first, I don't like the look of it in meetin'."
+
+"But yet you really think it is better than nothing," said James, "for
+you see I couldn't pitch my tunes without it."
+
+"Maybe 'tis," said Uncle Lot; "but that isn't sayin' much."
+
+This, however, was enough for Master James, who soon after departed,
+with his flute in his pocket, and Grace's last words in his heart;
+soliloquizing as he shut the gate, "There, now, I hope Aunt Sally won't
+go to praising me; for, just so sure as she does, I shall have it all to
+do over again."
+
+James was right in his apprehension. Uncle Lot could be privately
+converted, but not brought to open confession; and when, the next
+morning, Aunt Sally remarked, in the kindness of her heart,--
+
+"Well, I always knew you would come to like James," Uncle Lot only
+responded, "Who said I did like him?"
+
+"But I'm sure you _seemed_ to like him last night."
+
+"Why, I couldn't turn him out o' doors, could I? I don't think nothin'
+of him but what I always did."
+
+But it was to be remarked that Uncle Lot contented himself at this time
+with the mere general avowal, without running it into particulars, as
+was formerly his wont. It was evident that the ice had begun to melt,
+but it might have been a long time in dissolving, had not collateral
+incidents assisted.
+
+It so happened that, about this time, George Griswold, the only son
+before referred to, returned to his native village, after having
+completed his theological studies at a neighboring institution. It is
+interesting to mark the gradual development of mind and heart, from the
+time that the white-headed, bashful boy quits the country village for
+college, to the period when he returns, a formed and matured man, to
+notice how gradually the rust of early prejudices begins to cleave from
+him--how his opinions, like his handwriting, pass from the cramped and
+limited forms of a country school into that confirmed and characteristic
+style which is to mark the man for life. In George this change was
+remarkably striking. He was endowed by nature with uncommon acuteness of
+feeling and fondness for reflection--qualities as likely as any to
+render a child backward and uninteresting in early life.
+
+When he left Newbury for college, he was a taciturn and apparently
+phlegmatic boy, only evincing sensibility by blushing and looking
+particularly stupefied whenever any body spoke to him. Vacation after
+vacation passed, and he returned more and more an altered being; and he
+who once shrunk from the eye of the deacon, and was ready to sink if he
+met the minister, now moved about among the dignitaries of the place
+with all the composure of a superior being.
+
+It was only to be regretted that, while the mind improved, the physical
+energies declined, and that every visit to his home found him paler,
+thinner, and less prepared in body for the sacred profession to which he
+had devoted himself. But now he was returned, a minister--a real
+minister, with a right to stand in the pulpit and preach; and what a joy
+and glory to Aunt Sally--and to Uncle Lot, if he were not ashamed to own
+it!
+
+The first Sunday after he came, it was known far and near that George
+Griswold was to preach; and never was a more ready and expectant
+audience.
+
+As the time for reading the first psalm approached, you might see the
+white-headed men turning their faces attentively towards the pulpit; the
+anxious and expectant old women, with their little black bonnets, bent
+forward to see him rise. There were the children looking, because every
+body else looked; there was Uncle Lot in the front pew, his face
+considerately adjusted; there was Aunt Sally, seeming as pleased as a
+mother could seem; and Miss Grace, lifting her sweet face to her
+brother, like a flower to the sun; there was our friend James in the
+front gallery, his joyous countenance a little touched with sobriety and
+expectation; in short, a more embarrassingly attentive audience never
+greeted the first effort of a young minister. Under these circumstances
+there was something touching in the fervent self-forgetfulness which
+characterized the first exercises of the morning--something which moved
+every one in the house.
+
+The devout poetry of his prayer, rich with the Orientalism of Scripture,
+and eloquent with the expression of strong yet chastened emotion,
+breathed over his audience like music, hushing every one to silence, and
+beguiling every one to feeling. In the sermon, there was the strong
+intellectual nerve, the constant occurrence of argument and statement,
+which distinguishes a New England discourse; but it was touched with
+life by the intense, yet half-subdued, feeling with which he seemed to
+utter it. Like the rays of the sun, it enlightened and melted at the
+same moment.
+
+The strong peculiarities of New England doctrine, involving, as they do,
+all the hidden machinery of mind, all the mystery of its divine
+relations and future progression, and all the tremendous uncertainties
+of its eternal good or ill, seemed to have dwelt in his mind, to have
+burned in his thoughts, to have wrestled with his powers, and they gave
+to his manner the fervency almost of another world; while the exceeding
+paleness of his countenance, and a tremulousness of voice that seemed to
+spring from bodily weakness, touched the strong workings of his mind
+with a pathetic interest, as if the being so early absorbed in another
+world could not be long for this.
+
+When the services were over, the congregation dispersed with the air of
+people who had _felt_ rather than _heard_; and all the criticism that
+followed was similar to that of old Deacon Hart--an upright, shrewd
+man--who, as he lingered a moment at the church door, turned and gazed
+with unwonted feeling at the young preacher.
+
+"He's a blessed cre'tur!" said he, the tears actually making their way
+to his eyes; "I hain't been so near heaven this many a day. He's a
+blessed cre'tur of the Lord; that's my mind about him!"
+
+As for our friend James, he was at first sobered, then deeply moved, and
+at last wholly absorbed by the discourse; and it was only when meeting
+was over that he began to think where he really was.
+
+With all his versatile activity, James had a greater depth of mental
+capacity than he was himself aware of, and he began to feel a sort of
+electric affinity for the mind that had touched him in a way so new; and
+when he saw the mild minister standing at the foot of the pulpit stairs,
+he made directly towards him.
+
+"I do want to hear more from you," said he, with a face full of
+earnestness; "may I walk home with you?"
+
+"It is a long and warm walk," said George, smiling.
+
+"O, I don't care for that, if it does not trouble _you_," said James;
+and leave being gained, you might have seen them slowly passing along
+under the trees, James pouring forth all the floods of inquiry which the
+sudden impulse of his mind had brought out, and supplying his guide with
+more questions and problems for solution than he could have gone through
+with in a month.
+
+"I cannot answer all your questions now," said he, as they stopped at
+Uncle Lot's gate.
+
+"Well, then, when will you?" said James, eagerly. "Let me come home with
+you to-night?"
+
+The minister smiled assent, and James departed so full of new thoughts,
+that he passed Grace without even seeing her. From that time a
+friendship commenced between the two, which was a beautiful illustration
+of the affinities of opposites. It was like a friendship between morning
+and evening--all freshness and sunshine on one side, and all gentleness
+and peace on the other.
+
+The young minister, worn by long-continued ill health, by the fervency
+of his own feelings, and the gravity of his own reasonings, found
+pleasure in the healthful buoyancy of a youthful, unexhausted mind,
+while James felt himself sobered and made better by the moonlight
+tranquillity of his friend. It is one mark of a superior mind to
+understand and be influenced by the superiority of others; and this was
+the case with James. The ascendency which his new friend acquired over
+him was unlimited, and did more in a month towards consolidating and
+developing his character than all the four years' course of a college.
+Our religious habits are likely always to retain the impression of the
+first seal which stamped them, and in this case it was a peculiarly
+happy one. The calmness, the settled purpose, the mild devotion of his
+friend, formed a just alloy to the energetic and reckless buoyancy of
+James's character, and awakened in him a set of feelings without which
+the most vigorous mind must be incomplete.
+
+The effect of the ministrations of the young pastor, in awakening
+attention to the subjects of his calling in the village, was marked, and
+of a kind which brought pleasure to his own heart. But, like all other
+excitement, it tends to exhaustion, and it was not long before he
+sensibly felt the decline of the powers of life. To the best regulated
+mind there is something bitter in the relinquishment of projects for
+which we have been long and laboriously preparing, and there is
+something far more bitter in crossing the long-cherished expectations of
+friends. All this George felt. He could not bear to look on his mother,
+hanging on his words and following his steps with eyes of almost
+childish delight--on his singular father, whose whole earthly ambition
+was bound up in his success, and think how soon the "candle of their old
+age" must be put out. When he returned from a successful effort, it was
+painful to see the old man, so evidently delighted, and so anxious to
+conceal his triumph, as he would seat himself in his chair, and begin
+with, "George, that 'are doctrine is rather of a puzzler; but you seem
+to think you've got the run on't. I should re'ly like to know what
+business you have to think you know better than other folks about it;"
+and, though he would cavil most courageously at all George's
+explanations, yet you might perceive, through all, that he was inly
+uplifted to hear how his boy could talk.
+
+If George was engaged in argument with any one else, he would sit by,
+with his head bowed down, looking out from under his shaggy eyebrows
+with a shamefaced satisfaction very unusual with him. Expressions of
+affection from the naturally gentle are not half so touching as those
+which are forced out from the hard-favored and severe; and George was
+affected, even to pain, by the evident pride and regard of his father.
+
+"He never said so much to any body before," thought he, "and what will
+he do if I die?"
+
+In such thoughts as these Grace found her brother engaged one still
+autumn morning, as he stood leaning against the garden fence.
+
+"What are you solemnizing here for, this bright day, brother George?"
+said she, as she bounded down the alley.
+
+The young man turned and looked on her happy face with a sort of
+twilight smile.
+
+"How _happy_ you are, Grace!" said he.
+
+"To be sure I am; and you ought to be too, because you are better."
+
+"I am happy, Grace--that is, I hope I shall be."
+
+"You are sick, I know you are," said Grace; "you look worn out. O, I
+wish your heart could _spring_ once, as mine does."
+
+"I am not well, dear Grace, and I fear I never shall be," said he,
+turning away, and fixing his eyes on the fading trees opposite.
+
+"O George! dear George, don't, don't say _that_; you'll break all our
+hearts," said Grace, with tears in her own eyes.
+
+"Yes, but it is _true_, sister: I do not feel it on my own account so
+much as----However," he added, "it will all be the same in heaven."
+
+It was but a week after this that a violent cold hastened the progress
+of debility into a confirmed malady. He sunk very fast. Aunt Sally, with
+the self-deceit of a fond and cheerful heart, thought every day that "he
+_would_ be better," and Uncle Lot resisted conviction with all the
+obstinate pertinacity of his character, while the sick man felt that he
+had not the heart to undeceive them.
+
+James was now at the house every day, exhausting all his energy and
+invention in the case of his friend; and any one who had seen him in his
+hours of recklessness and glee, could scarcely recognize him as the
+being whose step was so careful, whose eye so watchful, whose voice and
+touch were so gentle, as he moved around the sick bed. But the same
+quickness which makes a mind buoyant in gladness, often makes it
+gentlest and most sympathetic in sorrow.
+
+It was now nearly morning in the sick room. George had been restless and
+feverish all night; but towards day he fell into a slight slumber, and
+James sat by his side, almost holding his breath lest he should waken
+him. It was yet dusk, but the sky was brightening with a solemn glow,
+and the stars were beginning to disappear; all, save the bright and
+morning one, which, standing alone in the east, looked tenderly through
+the casement, like the eye of our heavenly Father, watching over us when
+all earthly friendships are fading.
+
+George awoke with a placid expression of countenance, and fixing his
+eyes on the brightening sky, murmured faintly,--
+
+    "The sweet, immortal morning sheds
+    Its blushes round the spheres."
+
+A moment after, a shade passed over his face; he pressed his fingers
+over his eyes, and the tears dropped silently on his pillow.
+
+"George! _dear_ George!" said James, bending over him.
+
+"It's my friends--it's my father--my mother," said he, faintly.
+
+"Jesus Christ will watch over them," said James, soothingly.
+
+"O, yes, I know he will; for _he_ loved his own which were in the world;
+he loved them unto the end. But I am dying--and before I have done any
+good."
+
+"O, do not say so," said James; "think, think what you have done, if
+only for _me_. God bless you for it! God _will_ bless you for it; it
+will follow you to heaven; it will bring me there. Yes, I will do as you
+have taught me. I will give my life, my soul, my whole strength to it;
+and then you will not have lived in vain."
+
+George smiled, and looked upward; "his face was as that of an angel;"
+and James, in his warmth, continued,--
+
+"It is not I alone who can say this; we all bless you; every one in this
+place blesses you; you will be had in everlasting remembrance by some
+hearts here, I know."
+
+"Bless God!" said George.
+
+"We do," said James. "I bless him that I ever knew you; we all bless
+him, and we love you, and shall forever."
+
+The glow that had kindled over the pale face of the invalid again faded
+as he said,--
+
+"But, James, I must, I ought to tell my father and mother; I ought to,
+and how can I?"
+
+At that moment the door opened, and Uncle Lot made his appearance. He
+seemed struck with the paleness of George's face; and coming to the side
+of the bed, he felt his pulse, and laid his hand anxiously on his
+forehead, and clearing his voice several times, inquired "if he didn't
+feel a little better."
+
+"No, father," said George; then taking his hand, he looked anxiously in
+his face, and seemed to hesitate a moment. "Father," he began, "you know
+that we ought to submit to God."
+
+There was something in his expression at this moment which flashed the
+truth into the old man's mind. He dropped his son's hand with an
+exclamation of agony, and turning quickly, left the room.
+
+"Father! father!" said Grace, trying to rouse him, as he stood with his
+arms folded by the kitchen window.
+
+"Get away, child!" said he, roughly.
+
+"Father, mother says breakfast is ready."
+
+"I don't want any breakfast," said he, turning short about. "Sally, what
+are you fixing in that 'ere porringer?"
+
+"O, it's only a little tea for George; 'twill comfort him up, and make
+him feel better, poor fellow."
+
+"You won't make him feel better--he's gone," said Uncle Lot, hoarsely.
+
+"O, dear heart, no!" said Aunt Sally.
+
+"Be still a' contradicting me; I won't be contradicted all the time by
+nobody. The short of the case is, that George is goin' to _die_ just as
+we've got him ready to be a minister and all; and I wish to pity I was
+in my grave myself, and so----" said Uncle Lot, as he plunged out of the
+door, and shut it after him.
+
+It is well for man that there is one Being who sees the suffering heart
+_as it is_, and not as it manifests itself through the repellances of
+outward infirmity, and who, perhaps, feels more for the stern and
+wayward than for those whose gentler feelings win for them human
+sympathy. With all his singularities, there was in the heart of Uncle
+Lot a depth of religious sincerity; but there are few characters where
+religion does any thing more than struggle with natural defect, and
+modify what would else be far worse.
+
+In this hour of trial, all the native obstinacy and pertinacity of the
+old man's character rose, and while he felt the necessity of submission,
+it seemed impossible to submit; and thus, reproaching himself,
+struggling in vain to repress the murmurs of nature, repulsing from him
+all external sympathy, his mind was "tempest-tossed, and not comforted."
+
+It was on the still afternoon of the following Sabbath that he was sent
+for, in haste, to the chamber of his son. He entered, and saw that the
+hour was come. The family were all there. Grace and James, side by side,
+bent over the dying one, and his mother sat afar off, with her face hid
+in her apron, "that she might not see the death of the child." The aged
+minister was there, and the Bible lay open before him. The father walked
+to the side of the bed. He stood still, and gazed on the face now
+brightening with "life and immortality." The son lifted up his eyes; he
+saw his father, smiled, and put out his hand. "I am glad _you_ are
+come," said he. "O George, to the pity, don't! _don't_ smile on me so! I
+know what is coming; I have tried, and tried, and I _can't_, I _can't_
+have it so;" and his frame shook, and he sobbed audibly. The room was
+still as death; there was none that seemed able to comfort him. At last
+the son repeated, in a sweet, but interrupted voice, those words of
+man's best Friend: "Let not your heart be troubled; in my Father's house
+are many mansions."
+
+"Yes; but I _can't help_ being troubled; I suppose the Lord's will must
+be done, but it'll _kill_ me."
+
+"O father, don't, don't break my heart," said the son, much agitated. "I
+shall see you again in heaven, and you shall see me again; and then
+'your heart shall rejoice, and your joy no man taketh from you.'"
+
+"I never shall get to heaven if I feel as I do now," said the old man.
+"I _cannot_ have it so."
+
+The mild face of the sufferer was overcast. "I wish he saw all that _I_
+do," said he, in a low voice. Then looking towards the minister, he
+articulated, "Pray for us."
+
+They knelt in prayer. It was soothing, as _real_ prayer always must be;
+and when they rose, every one seemed more calm. But the sufferer was
+exhausted; his countenance changed; he looked on his friends; there was
+a faint whisper, "Peace I leave with you"--and he was in heaven.
+
+We need not dwell on what followed. The seed sown by the righteous often
+blossoms over their grave; and so was it with this good man. The words
+of peace which he spoke unto his friends while he was yet with them came
+into remembrance after he was gone; and though he was laid in the grave
+with many tears, yet it was with softened and submissive hearts.
+
+"The Lord bless him," said Uncle Lot, as he and James were standing,
+last of all, over the grave. "I believe my heart is gone to heaven with
+him; and I think the Lord really _did_ know what was best, after all."
+
+Our friend James seemed now to become the support of the family; and the
+bereaved old man unconsciously began to transfer to him the affections
+that had been left vacant.
+
+"James," said he to him one day, "I suppose you know that you are about
+the same to me as a son."
+
+"I hope so," said James, kindly.
+
+"Well, well, you'll go to college next week, and none o' y'r keepin'
+school to get along. I've got enough to bring you safe out--that is, if
+you'll be _car'ful_ and _stiddy_."
+
+James knew the heart too well to refuse a favor in which the poor old
+man's mind was comforting itself. He had the self-command to abstain
+from any extraordinary expressions of gratitude, but took it kindly, as
+a matter of course.
+
+"Dear Grace," said he to her, the last evening before he left home, "I
+am changed; we both are altered since we first knew each other; and now
+I am going to be gone a long time, but I am sure----"
+
+He stopped to arrange his thoughts.
+
+"Yes, you may be sure of all those things that you wish to say, and
+cannot," said Grace.
+
+"Thank you," said James; then, looking thoughtfully, he added, "God help
+me. I believe I have mind enough to be what I mean to; but whatever I am
+or have shall be given to God and my fellow-men; and then, Grace, your
+brother in heaven will rejoice over me."
+
+"I believe he does _now_," said Grace. "God bless you, James; I don't
+know what would have become of us if you had not been here."
+
+"Yes, you will live to be like him, and to do even more good," she
+added, her face brightening as she spoke, till James thought she really
+must be right.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was five years after this that James was spoken of as an eloquent and
+successful minister in the state of C., and was settled in one of its
+most thriving villages. Late one autumn evening, a tall, bony,
+hard-favored man was observed making his way into the outskirts of the
+place.
+
+"Halloa, there!" he called to a man over the other side of a fence;
+"what town is this 'ere?"
+
+"It's Farmington, sir."
+
+"Well, I want to know if you know any thing of a boy of mine that lives
+here?"
+
+"A boy of yours? Who?"
+
+"Why, I've got a boy here, that's livin' _on the town_, and I thought
+I'd jest look him up."
+
+"I don't know any boy that is living on the town. What's his name?"
+
+"Why," said the old man, pushing his hat off from his forehead, "I
+believe they call him James Benton."
+
+"James Benton! Why, that is our minister's name!"
+
+"O, wal, I believe he _is_ the minister, come to think on't. He's a boy
+o' mine, though. Where does he live?"
+
+"In that white house that you see set back from the road there, with all
+those trees round it."
+
+At this instant a tall, manly-looking person approached from behind.
+Have we not seen that face before? It is a touch graver than of old, and
+its lines have a more thoughtful significance; but all the vivacity of
+James Benton sparkles in that quick smile as his eye falls on the old
+man.
+
+"I _thought_ you could not keep away from us long," said he, with the
+prompt cheerfulness of his boyhood, and laying hold of both of Uncle
+Lot's hard hands.
+
+They approached the gate; a bright face glances past the window, and in
+a moment Grace is at the door.
+
+"Father! _dear_ father!"
+
+"You'd _better_ make believe be so glad," said Uncle Lot, his eyes
+glistening as he spoke.
+
+"Come, come, father, I have authority in these days," said Grace,
+drawing him towards the house; "so no disrespectful speeches; away with
+your hat and coat, and sit down in this great chair."
+
+"So, ho! Miss Grace," said Uncle Lot, "you are at your old tricks,
+ordering round as usual. Well, if I must, I must;" so down he sat.
+
+"Father," said Grace, as he was leaving them, after a few days' stay,
+"it's Thanksgiving day next month, and you and mother must come and stay
+with us."
+
+Accordingly, the following month found Aunt Sally and Uncle Lot by the
+minister's fireside, delighted witnesses of the Thanksgiving presents
+which a willing people were pouring in; and the next day they had once
+more the pleasure of seeing a son of theirs in the sacred desk, and
+hearing a sermon that every body said was "the best that he ever
+preached;" and it is to be remarked, that this was the standing
+commentary on all James's discourses, so that it was evident he was
+going on unto perfection.
+
+"There's a great deal that's worth having in this 'ere life after all,"
+said Uncle Lot, as he sat by the coals of the bright evening fire of
+that day; "that is, if we'd only take it when the Lord lays it in our
+way."
+
+"Yes," said James; "and let us only take it as we should, and this life
+will be cheerfulness, and the next fulness of joy."
+
+
+
+
+LOVE _versus_ LAW.
+
+
+How many kinds of beauty there are! How many even in the human form!
+There are the bloom and motion of childhood, the freshness and ripe
+perfection of youth, the dignity of manhood, the softness of woman--all
+different, yet each in its kind perfect.
+
+But there is none so peculiar, none that bears more the image of the
+heavenly, than the beauty of _Christian old age_. It is like the
+loveliness of those calm autumn days, when the heats of summer are past,
+when the harvest is gathered into the garner, and the sun shines over
+the placid fields and fading woods, which stand waiting for their last
+change. It is a beauty more strictly moral, more belonging to the soul,
+than that of any other period of life. Poetic fiction always paints the
+old man as a Christian; nor is there any period where the virtues of
+Christianity seem to find a more harmonious development. The aged man,
+who has outlived the hurry of passion--who has withstood the urgency of
+temptation--who has concentrated the religious impulses of youth into
+habits of obedience and love--who, having served his generation by the
+will of God, now leans in helplessness on Him whom once he served, is,
+perhaps, one of the most faultless representations of the beauty of
+holiness that this world affords.
+
+Thoughts something like these arose in my mind as I slowly turned my
+footsteps from the graveyard of my native village, where I had been
+wandering after years of absence. It was a lovely spot--a soft slope of
+ground close by a little stream, that ran sparkling through the cedars
+and junipers beyond it, while on the other side arose a green hill, with
+the white village laid like a necklace of pearls upon its bosom.
+
+There is no feature of the landscape more picturesque and peculiar than
+that of the graveyard--that "city of the silent," as it is beautifully
+expressed by the Orientals--standing amid the bloom and rejoicing of
+nature, its white stones glittering in the sun, a memorial of decay, a
+link between the living and the dead.
+
+As I moved slowly from mound to mound, and read the inscriptions, which
+purported that many a money-saving man, and many a busy, anxious
+housewife, and many a prattling, half-blossomed child, had done with
+care or mirth, I was struck with a plain slab, bearing the inscription,
+"_To the memory of Deacon Enos Dudley, who died in his hundredth year_."
+My eye was caught by this inscription, for in other years I had well
+known the person it recorded. At this instant, his mild and venerable
+form arose before me as erst it used to rise from the deacon's seat, a
+straight, close slip just below the pulpit. I recollect his quiet and
+lowly coming into meeting, precisely ten minutes before the time, every
+Sunday,--his tall form a little stooping,--his best suit of
+butternut-colored Sunday clothes, with long flaps and wide cuffs, on one
+of which two pins were always to be seen stuck in with the most reverent
+precision. When seated, the top of the pew came just to his chin, so
+that his silvery, placid head rose above it like the moon above the
+horizon. His head was one that might have been sketched for a St.
+John--bald at the top, and around the temples adorned with a soft flow
+of bright fine hair,--
+
+    "That down his shoulders reverently spread,
+    As hoary frost with spangles doth attire
+    The naked branches of an oak half dead."
+
+He was then of great age, and every line of his patient face seemed to
+say, "And now, Lord, what wait I for?" Yet still, year after year, was
+he to be seen in the same place, with the same dutiful punctuality.
+
+The services he offered to his God were all given with the exactness of
+an ancient Israelite. No words could have persuaded him of the propriety
+of meditating when the choir was singing, or of sitting down, even
+through infirmity, before the close of the longest prayer that ever was
+offered. A mighty contrast was he to his fellow-officer, Deacon Abrams,
+a tight, little, tripping, well-to-do man, who used to sit beside him
+with his hair brushed straight up like a little blaze, his coat buttoned
+up trig and close, his psalm book in hand, and his quick gray eyes
+turned first on one side of the broad aisle, and then on the other, and
+then up into the gallery, like a man who came to church on business, and
+felt responsible for every thing that was going on in the house.
+
+A great hinderance was the business talent of this good little man to
+the enjoyments of us youngsters, who, perched along in a row on a low
+seat in front of the pulpit, attempted occasionally to diversify the
+long hour of sermon by sundry small exercises of our own, such as making
+our handkerchiefs into rabbits, or exhibiting, in a sly way, the apples
+and gingerbread we had brought for a Sunday dinner, or pulling the ears
+of some discreet meeting-going dog, who now and then would soberly
+pitapat through the broad aisle. But woe be to us during our contraband
+sports, if we saw Deacon Abrams's sleek head dodging up from behind the
+top of the deacon's seat. Instantly all the apples, gingerbread, and
+handkerchiefs vanished, and we all sat with our hands folded, looking as
+demure as if we understood every word of the sermon, and more too.
+
+There was a great contrast between these two deacons in their services
+and prayers, when, as was often the case, the absence of the pastor
+devolved on them the burden of conducting the duties of the sanctuary.
+That God was great and good, and that we all were sinners, were truths
+that seemed to have melted into the heart of Deacon Enos, so that his
+very soul and spirit were bowed down with them. With Deacon Abrams it
+was an _undisputed fact_, which he had settled long ago, and concerning
+which he felt that there could be no reasonable doubt, and his bustling
+way of dealing with the matter seemed to say that he knew _that_ and a
+great many things besides.
+
+Deacon Enos was known far and near as a very proverb for peacefulness of
+demeanor and unbounded charitableness in covering and excusing the
+faults of others. As long as there was any doubt in a case of alleged
+evil doing, Deacon Enos _guessed_ "the man did not mean any harm, after
+all;" and when transgression became too barefaced for this excuse, he
+always guessed "it wa'n't best to say much about it; nobody could tell
+what _they_ might be left to."
+
+Some incidents in his life will show more clearly these traits. A
+certain shrewd landholder, by the name of Jones, who was not well
+reported of in the matter of honesty, sold to Deacon Enos a valuable lot
+of land, and received the money for it; but, under various pretences,
+deferred giving the deed. Soon after, he died; and, to the deacon's
+amazement, the deed was nowhere to be found, while this very lot of land
+was left by will to one of his daughters.
+
+The deacon said "it was very extraor'nary: he always knew that Seth
+Jones was considerably sharp about money, but he did not think he would
+do such a right up-and-down wicked thing." So the old man repaired to
+'Squire Abel to state the case, and see if there was any redress. "I
+kinder hate to tell of it," said he; "but, 'Squire Abel, you know Mr.
+Jones was--was--_what he was_, even if he _is_ dead and gone!" This was
+the nearest approach the old gentleman could make to specifying a heavy
+charge against the dead. On being told that the case admitted of no
+redress, Deacon Enos comforted himself with half soliloquizing, "Well,
+at any rate, the land has gone to those two girls, poor lone critters--I
+hope it will do _them_ some good. There is Silence--we won't say much
+about her; but Sukey is a nice, pretty girl." And so the old man
+departed, leaving it as his opinion that, since the matter could not be
+mended, it was just as well not to say any thing about it.
+
+Now, the two girls here mentioned (to wit, Silence and Sukey) were the
+eldest and the youngest of a numerous, family, the offspring of three
+wives of Seth Jones, of whom these two were the sole survivors. The
+elder, Silence, was a tall, strong, black-eyed, hard-featured woman,
+verging upon forty, with a good, loud, resolute voice, and what the
+Irishman would call "a dacent notion of using it." Why she was called
+_Silence_ was a standing problem to the neighborhood; for she had more
+faculty and inclination for making a noise than any person in the whole
+township. Miss Silence was one of those persons who have no disposition
+to yield any of their own rights. She marched up to all controverted
+matters, faced down all opposition, held her way lustily and with good
+courage, making men, women, and children turn out for her, as they would
+for a mail stage. So evident was her innate determination to be free and
+independent, that, though she was the daughter of a rich man, and well
+portioned, only one swain was ever heard of who ventured to solicit her
+hand in marriage; and he was sent off with the assurance that, if he
+ever showed his face about the house again, she would set the dogs on
+him.
+
+But Susan Jones was as different from her sister as the little graceful
+convolvulus from the great rough stick that supports it. At the time of
+which we speak she was just eighteen; a modest, slender, blushing girl,
+as timid and shrinking as her sister was bold and hardy. Indeed, the
+education of poor Susan had cost Miss Silence much painstaking and
+trouble, and, after all, she said "the girl would make a fool of
+herself; she never could teach her to be up and down with people, as she
+was."
+
+When the report came to Miss Silence's ears that Deacon Enos considered
+himself as aggrieved by her father's will, she held forth upon the
+subject with great strength of courage and of lungs. "Deacon Enos might
+be in better business than in trying to cheat orphans out of their
+rights--she hoped he would go to law about it, and see what good he
+would get by it--a pretty church member and deacon, to be sure! getting
+up such a story about her poor father, dead and gone!"
+
+"But, Silence," said Susan, "Deacon Enos is a good man: I do not think
+he means to injure any one; there must be some mistake about it."
+
+"Susan, you are a little fool, as I have always told you," replied
+Silence; "you would be cheated out of your eye teeth if you had not me
+to take care of you."
+
+But subsequent events brought the affairs of these two damsels in closer
+connection with those of Deacon Enos, as we shall proceed to show.
+
+It happened that the next door neighbor of Deacon Enos was a certain old
+farmer, whose crabbedness of demeanor had procured for him the name of
+_Uncle Jaw_. This agreeable surname accorded very well with the general
+characteristics both of the person and manner of its possessor. He was
+tall and hard-favored, with an expression of countenance much resembling
+a north-east rain storm--a drizzling, settled sulkiness, that seemed to
+defy all prospect of clearing off, and to take comfort in its own
+disagreeableness. His voice seemed to have taken lessons of his face, in
+such admirable keeping was its sawing, deliberate growl with the
+pleasing physiognomy before indicated. By nature he was endowed with one
+of those active, acute, hair-splitting minds, which can raise forty
+questions for dispute on any point of the compass; and had he been an
+educated man, he might have proved as clever a metaphysician as ever
+threw dust in the eyes of succeeding generations. But being deprived of
+these advantages, he nevertheless exerted himself to quite as useful a
+purpose in puzzling and mystifying whomsoever came in his way. But his
+activity particularly exercised itself in the line of the law, as it was
+his meat, and drink, and daily meditation, either to find something to
+go to law about, or to go law about something he had found. There was
+always some question about an old rail fence that used to run "a
+_leetle_ more to the left hand," or that was built up "a _leetle_ more
+to the right hand," and so cut off a strip of his "_medder land_," or
+else there was some outrage of Peter Somebody's turkeys getting into his
+mowing, or Squire Moses's geese were to be shut up in the town pound, or
+something equally important kept him busy from year's end to year's end.
+Now, as a matter of private amusement, this might have answered very
+well; but then Uncle Jaw was not satisfied to fight his own battles, but
+must needs go from house to house, narrating the whole length and
+breadth of the case, with all the _says he's_ and _says I's_, and the _I
+tell'd him's_ and _he tell'd me's_, which do either accompany or flow
+therefrom. Moreover, he had such a marvellous facility of finding out
+matters to quarrel about, and of letting every one else know where they,
+too, could muster a quarrel, that he generally succeeded in keeping the
+whole neighborhood by the ears.
+
+And as good Deacon Enos assumed the office of peace-maker for the
+village, Uncle Jaw's efficiency rendered it no sinecure. The deacon
+always followed the steps of Uncle Jaw, smoothing, hushing up, and
+putting matters aright with an assiduity that was truly wonderful.
+
+Uncle Jaw himself had a great respect for the good man, and, in common
+with all the neighborhood, sought unto him for counsel, though, like
+other seekers of advice, he appropriated only so much as seemed good in
+his own eyes.
+
+Still he took a kind of pleasure in dropping in of an evening to Deacon
+Enos's fire, to recount the various matters which he had taken or was to
+take in hand; at one time to narrate "how he had been over the milldam,
+telling old Granny Clark that she could get the law of Seth Scran about
+that pasture lot," or else "how he had told Ziah Bacon's widow that she
+had a right to shut up Bill Scranton's pig every time she caught him in
+front of her house."
+
+But the grand "matter of matters," and the one that took up the most of
+Uncle Jaw's spare time, lay in a dispute between him and 'Squire Jones,
+the father of Susan and Silence; for it so happened that his lands and
+those of Uncle Jaw were contiguous. Now, the matter of dispute was on
+this wise: On 'Squire Jones's land there was a mill, which mill Uncle
+Jaw averred was "always a-flooding his medder land." As Uncle Jaw's
+"medder land" was by nature half bog and bulrushes, and therefore liable
+to be found in a wet condition, there was always a happy obscurity as to
+where the water came from, and whether there was at any time more there
+than belonged to his share. So, when all other subject matters of
+dispute failed, Uncle Jaw recreated himself with getting up a lawsuit
+about his "medder land;" and one of these cases was in pendency when, by
+the death of the squire, the estate was left to Susan and Silence, his
+daughters. When, therefore, the report reached him that Deacon Enos had
+been cheated out of his dues, Uncle Jaw prepared forthwith to go and
+compare notes. Therefore, one evening, as Deacon Enos was sitting
+quietly by the fire, musing and reading with his big Bible open before
+him, he heard the premonitory symptoms of a visitation from Uncle Jaw on
+his door scraper; and soon the man made his appearance. After seating
+himself directly in front of the fire, with his elbows on his knees, and
+his hands spread out over the coals, he looked up in Deacon Enos's mild
+face with his little inquisitive gray eyes, and remarked, by way of
+opening the subject, "Well, deacon, old 'Squire Jones is gone at last. I
+wonder how much good all his land will do him now?"
+
+"Yes," replied Deacon Enos, "it just shows how all these things are not
+worth striving after. We brought nothing into the world, and it is
+certain we can carry nothing out."
+
+"Why, yes," replied Uncle Jaw, "that's all very right, deacon; but it
+was strange how that old 'Squire Jones did hang on to things. Now, that
+mill of his, that was always soaking off water into these medders of
+mine--I took and tell'd 'Squire Jones just how it was, pretty nigh
+twenty times, and yet he would keep it just so; and now he's dead and
+gone, there is that old gal Silence is full as bad, and makes more
+noise; and she and Suke have got the land; but, you see, I mean to work
+it yet."
+
+Here Uncle Jaw paused to see whether he had produced any sympathetic
+excitement in Deacon Enos; but the old man sat without the least
+emotion, quietly contemplating the top of the long kitchen shovel. Uncle
+Jaw fidgeted in his chair, and changed his mode of attack for one more
+direct. "I heard 'em tell, Deacon Enos, that the squire served you
+something of an unhandy sort of trick about that 'ere lot of land."
+
+Still Deacon Enos made no reply; but Uncle Jaw's perseverance was not so
+to be put off, and he recommenced. "'Squire Abel, you see, he tell'd me
+how the matter was, and he said he did not see as it could be mended;
+but I took and tell'd him, ''Squire Abel,' says I, 'I'd bet pretty nigh
+'most any thing, if Deacon Enos would tell the matter to me, that I
+could find a hole for him to creep out at; for,' says I, 'I've seen
+daylight through more twistical cases than that afore now.'"
+
+Still Deacon Enos remained mute; and Uncle Jaw, after waiting a while,
+recommenced with, "But, railly, deacon, I should like to hear the
+particulars."
+
+"I have made up my mind not to say any thing more about that business,"
+said Deacon Enos, in a tone which, though mild, was so exceedingly
+definite, that Uncle Jaw felt that the case was hopeless in that
+quarter; he therefore betook himself to the statement of his own
+grievances.
+
+"Why, you see, deacon," he began, at the same time taking the tongs, and
+picking up all the little brands, and disposing them in the middle of
+the fire,--"you see, two days arter the funeral, (for I didn't railly
+like to go any sooner,) I stepped up to hash over the matter with old
+Silence; for as to Sukey, she ha'n't no more to do with such things than
+our white kitten. Now, you see, 'Squire Jones, just afore he died, he
+took away an old rail fence of his'n that lay between his land and mine,
+and began to build a new stone wall; and when I come to measure, I found
+he had took and put a'most the whole width of the stone wall on to my
+land, when there ought not to have been more than half of it come there.
+Now, you see, I could not say a word to 'Squire Jones, because, jest
+before I found it out, he took and died; and so I thought I'd speak to
+old Silence, and see if she meant to do any thing about it, 'cause I
+knew pretty well she wouldn't; and I tell you, if she didn't put it on
+to me! We had a regular pitched battle--the old gal, I thought she would
+'a screamed herself to death! I don't know but she would, but just then
+poor Sukey came in, and looked so frightened and scarey--Sukey is a
+pretty gal, and looks so trembling and delicate, that it's kinder a
+shame to plague her, and so I took and come away for that time."
+
+Here Uncle Jaw perceived a brightening in the face of the good deacon,
+and felt exceedingly comforted that at last he was about to interest him
+in his story.
+
+But all this while the deacon had been in a profound meditation
+concerning the ways and means of putting a stop to a quarrel that had
+been his torment from time immemorial, and just at this moment a plan
+had struck his mind which our story will proceed to unfold.
+
+The mode of settling differences which had occurred to the good man was
+one which has been considered a specific in reconciling contending
+sovereigns and states from early antiquity, and the deacon hoped it
+might have a pacifying influence even in so unpromising a case as that
+of Miss Silence and Uncle Jaw.
+
+In former days, Deacon Enos had kept the district school for several
+successive winters, and among his scholars was the gentle Susan Jones,
+then a plump, rosy little girl, with blue eyes, curly hair, and the
+sweetest disposition in the world. There was also little Joseph Adams,
+the only son of Uncle Jaw, a fine, healthy, robust boy, who used to
+spell the longest words, make the best snowballs and poplar whistles,
+and read the loudest and fastest in the Columbian Orator of any boy at
+school.
+
+Little Joe inherited all his father's sharpness, with a double share of
+good humor; so that, though he was forever effervescing in the way of
+one funny trick or another, he was a universal favorite, not only with
+the deacon, but with the whole school.
+
+Master Joseph always took little Susan Jones under his especial
+protection, drew her to school on his sled, helped her out with all the
+long sums in her arithmetic, saw to it that nobody pillaged her dinner
+basket, or knocked down her bonnet, and resolutely whipped or snowballed
+any other boy who attempted the same gallantries. Years passed on, and
+Uncle Jaw had sent his son to college. He sent him because, as he said,
+he had "_a right_ to send him; just as good a right as 'Squire Abel or
+Deacon Abrams to send their boys, and so he _would_ send him." It was
+the remembrance of his old favorite Joseph, and his little pet Susan,
+that came across the mind of Deacon Enos, and which seemed to open a
+gleam of light in regard to the future. So, when Uncle Jaw had finished
+his prelection, the deacon, after some meditation, came out with,
+"Railly, they say that your son is going to have the valedictory in
+college."
+
+Though somewhat startled at the abrupt transition, Uncle Jaw found the
+suggestion too flattering to his pride to be dropped; so, with a
+countenance grimly expressive of his satisfaction, he replied, "Why,
+yes--yes--I don't see no reason why a poor man's son ha'n't as much
+right as any one to be at the top, if he can get there."
+
+"Just so," replied Deacon Enos.
+
+"He was always the boy for larning, and for nothing else," continued
+Uncle Jaw; "put him to farming, couldn't make nothing of him. If I set
+him to hoeing corn or hilling potatoes, I'd always find him stopping to
+chase hop-toads, or off after chip-squirrels. But set him down to a
+book, and there he was! That boy larnt reading the quickest of any boy
+that ever I saw: it wasn't a month after he began his _a b, abs_,
+before he could read in the 'Fox and the Brambles,' and in a month more
+he could clatter off his chapter in the Testament as fast as any of
+them; and you see, in college, it's jest so--he has ris right up to be
+first."
+
+"And he is coming home week after next," said the deacon, meditatively.
+
+The next morning, as Deacon Enos was eating his breakfast, he quietly
+remarked to his wife, "Sally, I believe it was week after next you were
+meaning to have your quilting?"
+
+"Why, I never told you so: what alive makes you think that, Deacon
+Dudley?"
+
+"I thought that was your calculation," said the good man, quietly.
+
+"Why, no; to be sure, I _can_ have it, and may be it's the best of any
+time, if we can get Black Dinah to come and help about the cakes and
+pies. I guess we will, finally."
+
+"I think it's likely you had better," replied the deacon, "and we will
+have all the young folks here."
+
+And now let us pass over all the intermediate pounding, and grinding,
+and chopping, which for the next week foretold approaching festivity in
+the kitchen of the deacon. Let us forbear to provoke the appetite of a
+hungry reader by setting in order before him the minced pies, the
+cranberry tarts, the pumpkin pies, the doughnuts, the cookies, and other
+sweet cakes of every description, that sprang into being at the magic
+touch of Black Dinah, the village priestess on all these solemnities.
+Suffice it to say that the day had arrived, and the auspicious quilt was
+spread.
+
+The invitation had not failed to include the Misses Silence and Susan
+Jones--nay, the good deacon had pressed gallantry into the matter so far
+as to be the bearer of the message himself; for which he was duly
+rewarded by a broadside from Miss Silence, giving him what she termed a
+piece of her mind in the matter of the rights of widows and orphans; to
+all which the good old man listened with great benignity from the
+beginning to the end, and replied with,--
+
+"Well, well, Miss Silence, I expect you will think better of this before
+long; there had best not be any hard words about it." So saying, he took
+up his hat and walked off, while Miss Silence, who felt extremely
+relieved by having blown off steam, declared that "it was of no more use
+to hector old Deacon Enos than to fire a gun at a bag of cotton wool.
+For all that, though, she shouldn't go to the quilting; nor, more,
+should Susan."
+
+"But, sister, why not?" said the little maiden; "I think I _shall_ go."
+And Susan said this in a tone so mildly positive that Silence was
+amazed.
+
+"What upon 'arth ails you, Susan?" said she, opening her eyes with
+astonishment; "haven't you any more spirit than to go to Deacon Enos's
+when he is doing all he can to ruin us?"
+
+"I like Deacon Enos," replied Susan; "he was always kind to me when I
+was a little girl, and I am not going to believe that he is a bad man
+now."
+
+When a young lady states that she is not going to believe a thing, good
+judges of human nature generally give up the case; but Miss Silence, to
+whom the language of opposition and argument was entirely new, could
+scarcely give her ears credit for veracity in the case; she therefore
+repeated over exactly what she said before, only in a much louder tone
+of voice, and with much more vehement forms of asseveration--a mode of
+reasoning which, if not strictly logical, has at least the sanction of
+very respectable authorities among the enlightened and learned.
+
+"Silence," replied Susan, when the storm had spent itself, "if it did
+not look like being angry with Deacon Enos, I would stay away to oblige
+you; but it would seem to every one to be taking sides in a quarrel, and
+I never did, and never will, have any part or lot in such things."
+
+"Then you'll just be trod and trampled on all your days, Susan," replied
+Silence; "but, however, if _you_ choose to make a fool of yourself, _I_
+don't;" and so saying, she flounced out of the room in great wrath. It
+so happened, however, that Miss Silence was one of those who have so
+little economy in disposing of a fit of anger, that it was all used up
+before the time of execution arrived. It followed of consequence, that,
+having unburdened her mind freely both to Deacon Enos and to Susan, she
+began to feel very much more comfortable and good-natured; and
+consequent upon that came divers reflections upon the many gossiping
+opportunities and comforts of a quilting; and then the intrusive little
+reflection, "What if she should go, after all; what harm would be done?"
+and then the inquiry, "Whether it was not her _duty_ to go and look
+after Susan, poor child, who had no mother to watch over her?" In short,
+before the time of preparation arrived, Miss Silence had fully worked
+herself up to the magnanimous determination of going to the quilting.
+Accordingly, the next day, while Susan was standing before her mirror,
+braiding up her pretty hair, she was startled by the apparition of Miss
+Silence coming into the room as stiff as a changeable silk and a high
+horn comb could make her; and "grimly determined was her look."
+
+"Well, Susan," said she, "if you _will_ go to the quilting this
+afternoon, I think it is _my duty_ to go and see to you."
+
+What would people do if this convenient shelter of _duty_ did not afford
+them a retreat in cases when they are disposed to change their minds?
+Susan suppressed the arch smile that, in spite of herself, laughed out
+at the corners of her eyes, and told her sister that she was much
+obliged to her for her care. So off they went together.
+
+Silence in the mean time held forth largely on the importance of
+standing up for one's rights, and not letting one's self be trampled on.
+
+The afternoon passed on, the elderly ladies quilted and talked scandal,
+and the younger ones discussed the merits of the various beaux who were
+expected to give vivacity to the evening entertainment. Among these the
+newly-arrived Joseph Adams, just from college, with all his literary
+honors thick about him, became a prominent subject of conversation.
+
+It was duly canvassed whether the young gentleman might be called
+handsome, and the affirmative was carried by a large majority, although
+there were some variations and exceptions; one of the party declaring
+his whiskers to be in too high a state of cultivation, another
+maintaining that they were in the exact line of beauty, while a third
+vigorously disputed the point whether he wore whiskers at all. It was
+allowed by all, however, that he had been a great beau in the town where
+he had passed his college days. It was also inquired into whether he
+were matrimonially engaged; and the negative being understood, they
+diverted themselves with predicting to one another the capture of such a
+prize; each prophecy being received with such disclaimers as "Come now!"
+"Do be still!" "Hush your nonsense!" and the like.
+
+At length the long-wished-for hour arrived, and one by one the lords of
+the creation began to make their appearance; and one of the last was
+this much admired youth.
+
+"That is Joe Adams!" "That is he!" was the busy whisper, as a tall,
+well-looking young man came into the room, with the easy air of one who
+had seen several things before, and was not to be abashed by the
+combined blaze of all the village beauties.
+
+In truth, our friend Joseph had made the most of his residence in N.,
+paying his court no less to the Graces than the Muses. His fine person,
+his frank, manly air, his ready conversation, and his faculty of
+universal adaptation had made his society much coveted among the _beau
+monde_ of N.; and though the place was small, he had become familiar
+with much good society.
+
+We hardly know whether we may venture to tell our fair readers the whole
+truth in regard to our hero. We will merely hint, in the gentlest manner
+in the world, that Mr. Joseph Adams, being undeniably first in the
+classics and first in the drawing room, having been gravely commended in
+his class by his venerable president, and gayly flattered in the drawing
+room by the elegant Miss This and Miss That, was rather inclining to the
+opinion that he was an uncommonly fine fellow, and even had the
+assurance to think that, under present circumstances, he could please
+without making any great effort--a thing which, however true it were in
+point of fact, is obviously improper to be thought of by a young man. Be
+that as it may, he moved about from one to another, shaking hands with
+all the old ladies, and listening with the greatest affability to the
+various comments on his growth and personal appearance, his points of
+resemblance to his father, mother, grandfather, and grandmother, which
+are always detected by the superior acumen of elderly females.
+
+Among the younger ones, he at once, and with full frankness, recognized
+old schoolmates, and partners in various whortleberry, chestnut, and
+strawberry excursions, and thus called out an abundant flow of
+conversation. Nevertheless, his eye wandered occasionally around the
+room, as if in search of something not there. What could it be? It
+kindled, however, with an expression of sudden brightness as he
+perceived the tall and spare figure of Miss Silence; whether owing to
+the personal fascinations of that lady, or to other causes, we leave the
+reader to determine.
+
+Miss Silence had predetermined never to speak a word again to Uncle Jaw
+or any of his race; but she was taken by surprise at the frank, extended
+hand and friendly "how d'ye do?" It was not in woman to resist so
+cordial an address from a handsome young man, and Miss Silence gave her
+hand, and replied with a graciousness that amazed herself. At this
+moment, also, certain soft blue eyes peeped forth from a corner, just
+"to see if he looked as he used to." Yes, there he was! the same dark,
+mirthful eyes that used to peer on her from behind the corners of the
+spelling book at the district school; and Susan Jones gave a deep sigh
+to those times, and then wondered why she happened to think of such
+nonsense.
+
+"How is your sister, little Miss Susan?" said Joseph.
+
+"Why, she is here--have you not seen her?" said Silence; "there she is,
+in that corner."
+
+Joseph looked, but could scarcely recognize her. There stood a tall,
+slender, blooming girl, that might have been selected as a specimen of
+that union of perfect health with delicate fairness so characteristic of
+the young New England beauty.
+
+She was engaged in telling some merry story to a knot of young girls,
+and the rich color that, like a bright spirit, constantly went and came
+in her cheeks; the dimples, quick and varying as those of a little
+brook; the clear, mild eye; the clustering curls, and, above all, the
+happy, rejoicing smile, and the transparent frankness and simplicity of
+expression which beamed like sunshine about her, all formed a
+combination of charms that took our hero quite by surprise; and when
+Silence, who had a remarkable degree of directness in all her dealings,
+called out, "Here, Susan, is Joe Adams, inquiring after you!" our
+practised young gentleman felt himself color to the roots of his hair,
+and for a moment he could scarce recollect that first rudiment of
+manners, "to make his bow like a good boy." Susan colored also; but,
+perceiving the confusion of our hero, her countenance assumed an
+expression of mischievous drollery, which, helped on by the titter of
+her companions, added not a little to his confusion.
+
+"Dense take it!" thought he, "what's the matter with me?" and, calling
+up his courage, he dashed into the formidable circle of fair ones, and
+began chattering with one and another, calling by name with or without
+introduction, remembering things that never happened, with a freedom
+that was perfectly fascinating.
+
+"Really, how handsome he has grown!" thought Susan; and she colored
+deeply when once or twice the dark eyes of our hero made the same
+observation with regard to herself, in that quick, intelligible dialect
+which eyes alone can speak. And when the little party dispersed, as they
+did very punctually at nine o'clock, our hero requested of Miss Silence
+the honor of attending her home--an evidence of discriminating taste
+which materially raised him in the estimation of that lady. It was true,
+to be sure, that Susan walked on the other side of him, her little white
+hand just within his arm; and there was something in that light touch
+that puzzled him unaccountably, as might be inferred from the frequency
+with which Miss Silence was obliged to bring up the ends of conversation
+with, "What did you say?" "What were you going to say?" and other
+persevering forms of inquiry, with which a regular-trained
+matter-of-fact talker will hunt down a poor fellow-mortal who is in
+danger of sinking into a comfortable revery.
+
+When they parted at the gate, however, Silence gave our hero a hearty
+invitation to "come and see them any time," which he mentally regarded
+as more to the point than any thing else that had been said.
+
+As Joseph soberly retraced his way homeward, his thoughts, by some
+unaccountable association, began to revert to such topics as the
+loneliness of man by himself, the need of kindred spirits, the solaces
+of sympathy, and other like matters.
+
+That night Joseph dreamed of trotting along with his dinner basket to
+the old brown school house, and vainly endeavoring to overtake Susan
+Jones, whom he saw with her little pasteboard sun bonnet a few yards in
+front of him; then he was _teetering_ with her on a long board, her
+bright little face glancing up and down, while every curl around it
+seemed to be living with delight; and then he was snowballing Tom
+Williams for knocking down Susan's doll's house, or he sat by her on a
+bench, helping her out with a long sum in arithmetic; but, with the
+mischievous fatality of dreams, the more he ciphered and expounded, the
+longer and more hopeless grew the sum; and he awoke in the morning
+pshawing at his ill luck, after having done a sum over half a dozen
+times, while Susan seemed to be looking on with the same air of arch
+drollery that he saw on her face the evening before.
+
+"Joseph," said Uncle Jaw, the next morning at breakfast, "I s'pose
+'Squire Jones's daughters were not at the quilting."
+
+"Yes, sir, they were," said our hero; "they were both there."
+
+"Why, you don't say so!"
+
+"They certainly were," persisted the son.
+
+"Well, I thought the old gal had too much spunk for that: you see there
+is a quarrel between the deacon and them gals."
+
+"Indeed!" said Joseph. "I thought the deacon never quarrelled with any
+body."
+
+"But, you see, old Silence there, she will quarrel with _him_: railly,
+that cretur is a tough one;" and Uncle Jaw leaned back in his chair, and
+contemplated the quarrelsome propensities of Miss Silence with the
+satisfaction of a kindred spirit. "But I'll fix her yet," he continued;
+"I see how to work it."
+
+"Indeed, father, I did not know that you had any thing to do with their
+affairs."
+
+"Hain't I? I should like to know if I hain't!" replied Uncle Jaw,
+triumphantly. "Now, see here, Joseph: you see, I mean you shall be a
+lawyer: I'm pretty considerable of a lawyer myself--that is, for one not
+college larnt; and I'll tell you how it is"--and thereupon Uncle Jaw
+launched forth into the case of the _medder_ land and the mill, and
+concluded with, "Now, Joseph, this 'ere is a kinder whetstone for you to
+hone up your wits on."
+
+In pursuance, therefore, of this plan of sharpening his wits in the
+manner aforesaid, our hero, after breakfast, went like a dutiful son,
+directly towards 'Squire Jones's, doubtless for the purpose of taking
+ocular survey of the meadow land, mill, and stone wall; but, by some
+unaccountable mistake, lost his way, and found himself standing before
+the door of 'Squire Jones's house.
+
+The old squire had been among the aristocracy of the village, and his
+house had been the ultimate standard of comparison in all matters of
+style and garniture. Their big front room, instead of being strewn with
+lumps of sand, duly streaked over twice a week, was resplendent with a
+carpet of red, yellow, and black stripes, while a towering pair of
+long-legged brass andirons, scoured to a silvery white, gave an air of
+magnificence to the chimney, which was materially increased by the tall
+brass-headed shovel and tongs, which, like a decorous, starched married
+couple, stood bolt upright in their places on either side. The sanctity
+of the place was still further maintained by keeping the window shutters
+always closed, admitting only so much light as could come in by a round
+hole at the top of the shutter; and it was only on occasions of
+extraordinary magnificence that the room was thrown open to profane
+eyes.
+
+Our hero was surprised, therefore, to find both the doors and windows of
+this apartment open, and symptoms evident of its being in daily
+occupation. The furniture still retained its massive, clumsy stiffness,
+but there were various tokens that lighter fingers had been at work
+there since the notable days of good Dame Jones. There was a vase of
+flowers on the table, two or three books of poetry, and a little fairy
+work-basket, from which peeped forth the edges of some worked ruffling;
+there was a small writing desk, and last, not least, in a lady's
+collection, an album, with leaves of every color of the rainbow,
+containing inscriptions, in sundry strong masculine hands, "To Susan,"
+indicating that other people had had their eyes open as well as Mr.
+Joseph Adams. "So," said he to himself, "this quiet little beauty has
+had admirers, after all;" and consequent upon this came another
+question, (which was none of his concern, to be sure,) whether the
+little lady were or were not engaged; and from these speculations he was
+aroused by a light footstep, and anon the neat form of Susan made its
+appearance.
+
+"Good morning, Miss Jones," said he, bowing.
+
+Now, there is something very comical in the feeling, when little boys
+and girls, who have always known each other as plain Susan or Joseph,
+first meet as "Mr." or "Miss" So-and-so. Each one feels half disposed,
+half afraid, to return to the old familiar form, and awkwardly fettered
+by the recollection that they are no longer children. Both parties had
+felt this the evening before, when they met in company; but now that
+they were alone together, the feeling became still stronger; and when
+Susan had requested Mr. Adams to take a chair, and Mr. Adams had
+inquired after Miss Susan's health, there ensued a pause, which, the
+longer it continued, seemed the more difficult to break, and during
+which Susan's pretty face slowly assumed an expression of the ludicrous,
+till she was as near laughing as propriety would admit; and Mr. Adams,
+having looked out at the window, and up at the mantel-piece, and down at
+the carpet, at last looked at Susan; their eyes met; the effect was
+electrical; they both smiled, and then laughed outright, after which the
+whole difficulty of conversation vanished.
+
+"Susan," said Joseph, "do you remember the old school house?"
+
+"I thought that was what you were thinking of," said Susan; "but,
+really, you have grown and altered so that I could hardly believe my
+eyes last night."
+
+"Nor I mine," said Joseph, with a glance that gave a very complimentary
+turn to the expression.
+
+Our readers may imagine that after this the conversation proceeded to
+grow increasingly confidential and interesting; that from the account of
+early life, each proceeded to let the other know something of
+intervening history, in the course of which each discovered a number of
+new and admirable traits in the other, such things being matters of very
+common occurrence. In the course of the conversation Joseph discovered
+that it was necessary that Susan should have two or three books then in
+his possession; and as promptitude is a great matter in such cases, he
+promised to bring them "to-morrow."
+
+For some time our young friends pursued their acquaintance without a
+distinct consciousness of any thing except that it was a very pleasant
+thing to be together. During the long, still afternoons, they rambled
+among the fading woods, now illuminated with the radiance of the dying
+year, and sentimentalized and quoted poetry; and almost every evening
+Joseph found some errand to bring him to the house; a book for Miss
+Susan, or a bundle of roots and herbs for Miss Silence, or some
+remarkably fine yarn for her to knit--attentions which retained our hero
+in the good graces of the latter lady, and gained him the credit of
+being "a young man that knew how to behave himself." As Susan was a
+leading member in the village choir, our hero was directly attacked with
+a violent passion for sacred music, which brought him punctually to the
+singing school, where the young people came together to sing anthems and
+fuguing tunes, and to eat apples and chestnuts.
+
+It cannot be supposed that all these things passed unnoticed by those
+wakeful eyes that are ever upon the motions of such "bright, particular
+stars;" and as is usual in such cases, many things were known to a
+certainty which were not yet known to the parties themselves. The young
+belles and beaux whispered and tittered, and passed the original jokes
+and witticisms common in such cases, while the old ladies soberly took
+the matter in hand when they went out with their knitting to make
+afternoon visits, considering how much money Uncle Jaw had, how much his
+son would have, and what all together would come to, and whether Joseph
+would be a "smart man," and Susan a good housekeeper, with all the "ifs,
+ands, and buts" of married life.
+
+But the most fearful wonders and prognostics crowded around the point
+"what Uncle Jaw would have to say to the matter." His lawsuit with the
+sisters being well understood, as there was every reason it should be,
+it was surmised what two such vigorous belligerents as himself and Miss
+Silence would say to the prospect of a matrimonial conjunction. It was
+also reported that Deacon Enos Dudley had a claim to the land which
+constituted the finest part of Susan's portion, the loss of which would
+render the consent of Uncle Jaw still more doubtful. But all this while
+Miss Silence knew nothing of the matter, for her habit of considering
+and treating Susan as a child seemed to gain strength with time. Susan
+was always to be seen to, and watched, and instructed, and taught; and
+Miss Silence could not conceive that one who could not even make
+pickles, without her to oversee, could think of such a matter as setting
+up housekeeping on her own account. To be sure, she began to observe an
+extraordinary change in her sister; remarked that "lately Susan seemed
+to be getting sort o' crazy-headed;" that she seemed not to have any
+"faculty" for any thing; that she had made gingerbread twice, and forgot
+the ginger one time, and put in mustard the other; that she shook the
+saltcellar out in the tablecloth, and let the cat into the pantry half a
+dozen times; and that when scolded for these sins of omission or
+commission, she had a fit of crying, and did a little worse than before.
+Silence was of opinion that Susan was getting to be "weakly and naarvy,"
+and actually concocted an unmerciful pitcher of wormwood and boneset,
+which she said was to keep off the "shaking weakness" that was coming
+over her. In vain poor Susan protested that she was well enough; Miss
+Silence _knew better_; and one evening she entertained Mr. Joseph Adams
+with a long statement of the case in all its bearings, and ended with
+demanding his opinion, as a candid listener, whether the wormwood and
+boneset sentence should not be executed.
+
+Poor Susan had that very afternoon parted from a knot of young friends
+who had teased her most unmercifully on the score of attentions
+received, till she began to think the very leaves and stones were so
+many eyes to pry into her secret feelings; and then to have the whole
+case set in order before the very person, too, whom she most dreaded.
+"Certainly he would think she was acting like a fool; perhaps he did not
+mean any thing more than friendship, _after all_; and she would not for
+the world have him suppose that she cared a copper more for him than for
+any other _friend_, or that she was _in love_, of all things." So she
+sat very busy with her knitting work, scarcely knowing what she was
+about, till Silence called out,--
+
+"Why, Susan, what a piece of work you are making of that stocking heel!
+What in the world are you doing to it?"
+
+Susan dropped her knitting, and making some pettish answer, escaped out
+of the room.
+
+"Now, did you ever?" said Silence, laying down the seam she had been
+cross-stitching; "what _is_ the matter with her, Mr. Adams?"
+
+"Miss Susan is certainly indisposed," replied our hero gravely. "I must
+get her to take your advice, Miss Silence."
+
+Our hero followed Susan to the front door, where she stood looking out
+at the moon, and begged to know what distressed her.
+
+Of course it was "nothing," the young lady's usual complaint when in low
+spirits; and to show that she was perfectly easy, she began an unsparing
+attack on a white rosebush near by.
+
+"Susan!" said Joseph, laying his hand on hers, and in a tone that made
+her start. She shook back her curls, and looked up to him with such an
+innocent, confiding face!
+
+Ah, my good reader, you may go on with this part of the story for
+yourself. We are principled against unveiling the "sacred mysteries,"
+the "thoughts that breathe and words that burn," in such little
+moonlight interviews as these. You may fancy all that followed; and we
+can only assure all who are doubtful, that, under judicious management,
+cases of this kind may be disposed of without wormwood or boneset. Our
+hero and heroine were called to sublunary realities by the voice of Miss
+Silence, who came into the passage to see what upon earth they were
+doing. That lady was satisfied by the representations of so friendly and
+learned a young man as Joseph that nothing immediately alarming was to
+be apprehended in the case of Susan; and she retired. From that evening
+Susan stepped about with a heart many pounds lighter than before.
+
+"I'll tell you what, Joseph," said Uncle Jaw, "I'll tell you what, now:
+I hear 'em tell that you've took and courted that 'ere Susan Jones. Now,
+I jest want to know if it's true."
+
+There was an explicitness about this mode of inquiry that took our hero
+quite by surprise, so that he could only reply,--
+
+"Why, sir, supposing I had, would there be any objection to it in your
+mind?"
+
+"Don't talk to me," said Uncle Jaw. "I jest want to know if it's true."
+
+Our hero put his hands in his pockets, walked to the window, and
+whistled.
+
+"'Cause if you have," said Uncle Jaw, "you may jest un-court as fast as
+you can; for 'Squire Jones's daughter won't get a single cent of my
+money, I can tell you that."
+
+"Why, father, Susan Jones is not to blame for any thing that her father
+did; and I'm sure she is a pretty girl enough."
+
+"I don't care if she is pretty. What's that to me? I've got you through
+college, Joseph; and a hard time I've had of it, a-delvin' and slavin';
+and here you come, and the very first thing you do you must take and
+court that 'ere 'Squire Jones's daughter, who was always putting himself
+up above me. Besides, I mean to have the law on that estate yet; and
+Deacon Dudley, he will have the law, too; and it will cut off the best
+piece of land the girl has; and when you get married, I mean you shall
+_have_ something. It's jest a trick of them gals at me; but I guess I'll
+come up with 'em yet. I'm just a-goin' down to have a 'regular hash'
+with old Silence, to let her know she can't come round me that way."
+
+"Silence," said Susan, drawing her head into the window, and looking
+apprehensive, "there is Mr. Adams coming here."
+
+"What, Joe Adams? Well, and what if he is?"
+
+"No, no, sister, but it is his father--it is Uncle Jaw."
+
+"Well, s'pose 'tis, child--what scares you? S'pose I'm afraid of him? If
+he wants more than I gave him last time, I'll put it on." So saying,
+Miss Silence took her knitting work and marched down into the sitting
+room, and sat herself bolt upright in an attitude of defiance, while
+poor Susan, feeling her heart beat unaccountably fast, glided out of the
+room.
+
+"Well, good morning, Miss Silence," said Uncle Jaw, after having scraped
+his feet on the scraper, and scrubbed them on the mat nearly ten
+minutes, in silent deliberation.
+
+"Morning, sir," said Silence, abbreviating the "good."
+
+Uncle Jaw helped himself to a chair directly in front of the enemy,
+dropped his hat on the floor, and surveyed Miss Silence with a dogged
+air of satisfaction, like one who is sitting down to a regular,
+comfortable quarrel, and means to make the most of it.
+
+Miss Silence tossed her head disdainfully, but scorned to commence
+hostilities.
+
+"So, Miss Silence," said Uncle Jaw, deliberately, "you don't think
+you'll do any thing about that 'ere matter."
+
+"What matter?" said Silence, with an intonation resembling that of a
+roasted chestnut when it bursts from the fire.
+
+"I really thought, Miss Silence, in that 'ere talk I had with you about
+'Squire Jones's cheatin' about that 'ere----"
+
+"Mr. Adams," said Silence, "I tell you, to begin with, I'm not a going
+to be sauced in this 'ere way by you. You hain't got common decency, nor
+common sense, nor common any thing else, to talk so to me about my
+father; I won't bear it, I tell you."
+
+"Why, Miss Jones," said Uncle Jaw, "how you talk! Well, to be sure,
+'Squire Jones is dead and gone, and it's as well not to call it
+cheatin', as I was tellin' Deacon Enos when he was talking about that
+'ere lot--that 'ere lot, you know, that he sold the deacon, and never
+let him have the deed on't."
+
+"That's a lie," said Silence, starting on her feet; "that's an up and
+down black lie! I tell you that, now, before you say another word."
+
+"Miss Silence, railly, you seem to be getting touchy," said Uncle Jaw;
+"well, to be sure, if the deacon can let that pass, other folks can; and
+maybe the deacon will, because 'Squire Jones was a church member, and
+the deacon is 'mazin' tender about bringin' out any thing against
+professors; but railly, now, Miss Silence, I didn't think you and Susan
+were going to work it so cunning in this here way."
+
+"I don't know what you mean, and, what's more, I don't care," said
+Silence, resuming her work, and calling back the bolt-upright dignity
+with which she began.
+
+There was a pause of some moments, during which the features of Silence
+worked with suppressed rage, which was contemplated by Uncle Jaw with
+undisguised satisfaction.
+
+"You see, I s'pose, I shouldn't a minded your Susan's setting out to
+court up my Joe, if it hadn't a been for them things."
+
+"Courting your son! Mr. Adams, I should like to know what you mean by
+that. I'm sure nobody wants your son, though he's a civil, likely fellow
+enough; yet with such an old dragon for a father, I'll warrant he won't
+get any body to court him, nor be courted by him neither."
+
+"Railly, Miss Silence, you ain't hardly civil, now."
+
+"Civil! I should like to know who _could_ be civil. You know, now, as
+well as I do, that you are saying all this out of clear, sheer ugliness;
+and that's what you keep a doing all round the neighborhood."
+
+"Miss Silence," said Uncle Jaw, "I don't want no hard words with you.
+It's pretty much known round the neighborhood that your Susan thinks
+she'll get my Joe, and I s'pose you was thinking that perhaps it would
+be the best way of settling up matters; but you see, now, I took and
+tell'd my son I railly didn't see as I could afford it; I took and
+tell'd him that young folks must have something considerable to start
+with; and that, if Susan lost that 'ere piece of ground, as is likely
+she will, it would be cutting off quite too much of a piece; so, you
+see, I don't want you to take no encouragement about that."
+
+"Well, I think this is pretty well!" exclaimed Silence, provoked beyond
+measure or endurance; "you old torment! think I don't know what you're
+at! I and Susan courting your son? I wonder if you ain't ashamed of
+yourself, now! I should like to know what I or she have done, now, to
+get that notion into your head?"
+
+"I didn't s'pose you 'spected to get him yourself," said Uncle Jaw, "for
+I guess by this time you've pretty much gin up trying, hain't ye? But
+Susan does, I'm pretty sure."
+
+"Here, Susan! Susan! you--come down!" called Miss Silence, in great
+wrath, throwing open the chamber door. "Mr. Adams wants to speak with
+you." Susan, fluttering and agitated, slowly descended into the room,
+where she stopped, and looked hesitatingly, first at Uncle Jaw and then
+at her sister, who, without ceremony, proposed the subject matter of the
+interview as follows:--
+
+"Now, Susan, here's this man pretends to say that you've been a courting
+and snaring to get his son; and I just want you to tell him that you
+hain't never had no thought of him, and that you won't have, neither."
+
+This considerate way of announcing the subject had the effect of
+bringing the burning color into Susan's face, as she stood like a
+convicted culprit, with her eyes bent on the floor.
+
+Uncle Jaw, savage as he was, was always moved by female loveliness, as
+wild beasts are said to be mysteriously swayed by music, and looked on
+the beautiful, downcast face with more softening than Miss Silence, who,
+provoked that Susan did not immediately respond to the question, seized
+her by the arm, and eagerly reiterated,--
+
+"Susan! why don't you speak, child?"
+
+Gathering desperate courage, Susan shook off the hand of Silence, and
+straightened herself up with as much dignity as some little flower lifts
+up its head when it has been bent down by rain drops.
+
+"Silence," she said, "I never would have come down if I had thought it
+was to hear such things as this. Mr. Adams, all I have to say to you is,
+that your son has sought me, and not I your son. If you wish to know any
+more, he can tell you better than I."
+
+"Well, I vow! she is a pretty gal," said Uncle Jaw, as Susan shut the
+door.
+
+This exclamation was involuntary; then recollecting himself, he picked
+up his hat, and saying, "Well, I guess I may as well get along hum," he
+began to depart; but turning round before he shut the door, he said,
+"Miss Silence, if you should conclude to do any thing about that 'ere
+fence, just send word over and let me know."
+
+Silence, without deigning any reply, marched up into Susan's little
+chamber, where our heroine was treating resolution to a good fit of
+crying.
+
+"Susan, I did not think you had been such a fool," said the lady. "I do
+want to know, now, if you've railly been thinking of getting married,
+and to that Joe Adams of all folks!"
+
+Poor Susan! such an interlude in all her pretty, romantic little dreams
+about kindred feelings and a hundred other delightful ideas, that
+flutter like singing birds through the fairy land of first love. Such an
+interlude! to be called on by gruff human voices to give up all the
+cherished secrets that she had trembled to whisper even to herself. She
+felt as if love itself had been defiled by the coarse, rough hands that
+had been meddling with it; so to her sister's soothing address Susan
+made no answer, only to cry and sob still more bitterly than before.
+
+Miss Silence, if she had a great stout heart, had no less a kind one,
+and seeing Susan take the matter so bitterly to heart, she began
+gradually to subside.
+
+"Susan, you poor little fool, you," said she, at the same time giving
+her a hearty slap, as expressive of earnest sympathy, "I really do feel
+for you; that good-for-nothing fellow has been a cheatin' you, I do
+believe."
+
+"O, don't talk any more about it, for mercy's sake," said Susan; "I am
+sick of the whole of it."
+
+"That's you, Susan! Glad to hear you say so! I'll stand up for you,
+Susan; if I catch Joe Adams coming here again with his palavering face,
+I'll let him know!"
+
+"No, no! Don't, for mercy's sake, say any thing to Mr. Adams--don't!"
+
+"Well, child, don't claw hold of a body so! Well, at any rate, I'll just
+let Joe Adams know that we hain't nothing more to say to him."
+
+"But I don't wish to say that--that is--I don't know--indeed, sister
+Silence, don't say any thing about it."
+
+"Why not? You ain't such a _natural_, now, as to want to marry him,
+after all, hey?"
+
+"I don't know what I want, nor what I don't want; only, Silence, do now,
+if you love me, do promise not to say any thing at all to Mr.
+Adams--don't."
+
+"Well, then, I won't," said Silence; "but, Susan, if you railly was in
+love all this while, why hain't you been and told me? Don't you know
+that I'm as much as a mother to you, and you ought to have told me in
+the beginning?"
+
+"I don't know, Silence! I couldn't--I don't want to talk about it."
+
+"Well, Susan, you ain't a bit like me," said Silence--a remark evincing
+great discrimination, certainly, and with which the conversation
+terminated.
+
+That very evening our friend Joseph walked down towards the dwelling of
+the sisters, not without some anxiety for the result, for he knew by his
+father's satisfied appearance that war had been declared. He walked into
+the family room, and found nobody there but Miss Silence, who was
+sitting, grim as an Egyptian sphinx, stitching very vigorously on a meal
+bag, in which interesting employment she thought proper to be so much
+engaged as not to remark the entrance of our hero. To Joseph's
+accustomed "Good evening, Miss Silence," she replied merely by looking
+up with a cold nod, and went on with her sewing. It appeared that she
+had determined on a literal version of her promise not to say any thing
+to Mr. Adams.
+
+Our hero, as we have before stated, was familiar with the crooks and
+turns of the female mind, and mentally resolved to put a bold face on
+the matter, and give Miss Silence no encouragement in her attempt to
+make him feel himself unwelcome. It was rather a frosty autumnal
+evening, and the fire on the hearth was decaying. Mr. Joseph bustled
+about most energetically, throwing down the tongs, and shovel, and
+bellows, while he pulled the fire to pieces, raked out ashes and brands,
+and then, in a twinkling, was at the woodpile, from whence he selected a
+massive backlog and forestick, with accompaniments, which were soon
+roaring and crackling in the chimney.
+
+"There, now, that does look something like comfort," said our hero; and
+drawing forward the big rocking chair, he seated himself in it, and
+rubbed his hands with an air of great complacency. Miss Silence looked
+not up, but stitched so much the faster, so that one might distinctly
+hear the crack of the needle and the whistle of the thread all over the
+apartment.
+
+"Have you a headache to-night, Miss Silence?"
+
+"No!" was the gruff answer.
+
+"Are you in a hurry about those bags?" said he, glancing at a pile of
+unmade ones which lay by her side.
+
+No reply. "Hang it all!" said our hero to himself, "I'll make her
+speak."
+
+Miss Silence's needle book and brown thread lay on a chair beside her.
+Our friend helped himself to a needle and thread, and taking one of the
+bags, planted himself bolt upright opposite to Miss Silence, and pinning
+his work to his knee, commenced stitching at a rate fully equal to her
+own.
+
+Miss Silence looked up and fidgeted, but went on with her work faster
+than before; but the faster she worked, the faster and steadier worked
+our hero, all in "marvellous silence." There began to be an odd
+twitching about the muscles of Miss Silence's face; our hero took no
+notice, having pursed his features into an expression of unexampled
+gravity, which only grew more intense as he perceived, by certain uneasy
+movements, that the adversary was beginning to waver.
+
+As they were sitting, stitching away, their needles whizzing at each
+other like a couple of locomotives engaged in conversation, Susan opened
+the door.
+
+The poor child had been crying for the greater part of her spare time
+during the day, and was in no very merry humor; but the moment that her
+astonished eyes comprehended the scene, she burst into a fit of almost
+inextinguishable merriment, while Silence laid down her needle, and
+looked half amused and half angry. Our hero, however, continued his
+business with inflexible perseverance, unpinning his work and moving the
+seam along, and going on with increased velocity.
+
+Poor Miss Silence was at length vanquished, and joined in the loud laugh
+which seemed to convulse her sister. Whereupon our hero unpinned his
+work, and folding it up, looked up at her with all the assurance of
+impudence triumphant, and remarked to Susan,--
+
+"Your sister had such a pile of these pillow cases to make, that she was
+quite discouraged, and engaged me to do half a dozen of them: when I
+first came in she was so busy she could not even speak to me."
+
+"Well, if you ain't the beater for impudence!" said Miss Silence.
+
+"The beater for _industry_--so I thought," rejoined our hero.
+
+Susan, who had been in a highly tragical state of mind all day, and who
+was meditating on nothing less sublime than an eternal separation from
+her lover, which she had imagined, with all the affecting attendants and
+consequents, was entirely revolutionized by the unexpected turn thus
+given to her ideas, while our hero pursued the opportunity he had made
+for himself, and exerted his powers of entertainment to the utmost, till
+Miss Silence, declaring that if she had been washing all day she should
+not have been more tired than she was with laughing, took up her candle,
+and good-naturedly left our young people to settle matters between
+themselves. There was a grave pause of some length when she had
+departed, which was broken by our hero, who, seating himself by Susan,
+inquired very seriously if his father had made proposals of marriage to
+Miss Silence that morning.
+
+"No, you provoking creature!" said Susan, at the same time laughing at
+the absurdity of the idea.
+
+"Well, now, don't draw on your long face again, Susan," said Joseph;
+"you have been trying to lengthen it down all the evening, if I would
+have let you. Seriously, now, I know that something painful passed
+between my father and you this morning, but I shall not inquire what it
+was. I only tell you, frankly, that he has expressed his disapprobation
+of our engagement, forbidden me to go on with it, and----"
+
+"And, consequently, I release you from all engagements and obligations
+to me, even before you ask it," said Susan.
+
+"You are extremely accommodating," replied Joseph; "but I cannot promise
+to be as obliging in giving up certain promises made to me, unless,
+indeed, the feelings that dictated them should have changed."
+
+"O, no--no, indeed," said Susan, earnestly; "you know it is not that;
+but if your father objects to me----"
+
+"If my father objects to you, he is welcome not to marry you," said
+Joseph.
+
+"Now, Joseph, do be serious," said Susan.
+
+"Well, then, seriously, Susan, I know my obligations to my father, and
+in all that relates to his comfort I will ever be dutiful and
+submissive, for I have no college boy pride on the subject of
+submission; but in a matter so individually my own as the choice of a
+wife, in a matter that will most likely affect my happiness years and
+years after he has ceased to be, I hold that I have a right to consult
+my own inclinations, and, by your leave, my dear little lady, I shall
+take that liberty."
+
+"But, then, if your father is made angry, you know what sort of a man he
+is; and how could I stand in the way of all your prospects?"
+
+"Why, my dear Susan, do you think I count myself dependent upon my
+father, like the heir of an English estate, who has nothing to do but
+sit still and wait for money to come to him? No! I have energy and
+education to start with, and if I cannot take care of myself, and you
+too, then cast me off and welcome;" and, as Joseph spoke, his fine face
+glowed with a conscious power, which unfettered youth never feels so
+fully as in America. He paused a moment, and resumed: "Nevertheless,
+Susan, I respect my father; whatever others may say of him, I shall
+never forget that I owe to his hard earnings the education that enables
+me to do or be any thing, and I shall not wantonly or rudely cross him.
+I do not despair of gaining his consent; my father has a great
+partiality for pretty girls, and if his love of contradiction is not
+kept awake by open argument, I will trust to time and you to bring him
+round; but, whatever comes, rest assured, my dearest one, I have chosen
+for life, and cannot change."
+
+The conversation, after this, took a turn which may readily be imagined
+by all who have been in the same situation, and will, therefore, need no
+further illustration.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Well, deacon, railly I don't know what to think now: there's my Joe,
+he's took and been a courting that 'ere Susan," said Uncle Jaw.
+
+This was the introduction to one of Uncle Jaw's periodical visits to
+Deacon Enos, who was sitting with his usual air of mild abstraction,
+looking into the coals of a bright November fire, while his busy
+helpmate was industriously rattling her knitting needles by his side.
+
+A close observer might have suspected that this was _no news_ to the
+good deacon, who had given a great deal of good advice, in private, to
+Master Joseph of late; but he only relaxed his features into a quiet
+smile, and ejaculated, "I want to know!"
+
+"Yes; and railly, deacon, that 'ere gal is a rail pretty un. I was a
+tellin' my folks that our new minister's wife was a fool to her."
+
+"And so your son is going to marry her?" said the good lady; "I knew
+that long ago."
+
+"Well--no--not so fast; ye see there's two to that bargain yet. You see,
+Joe, he never said a word to me, but took and courted the gal out of his
+own head; and when I come to know, says I, 'Joe,' says I, 'that 'ere gal
+won't do for me;' and I took and tell'd him, then, about that 'ere old
+fence, and all about that old mill, and them _medder_s of mine; and I
+tell'd him, too, about that 'ere lot of Susan's; and I should like to
+know, now, deacon, how that lot business is a going to turn out."
+
+"Judge Smith and 'Squire Moseley say that my claim to it will stand,"
+said the deacon.
+
+"They do?" said Uncle Jaw, with much satisfaction; "s'pose, then, you'll
+sue, won't you?"
+
+"I don't know," replied the deacon, meditatively.
+
+Uncle Jaw was thoroughly amazed; that any one should have doubts about
+entering suit for a fine piece of land, when sure of obtaining it, was a
+problem quite beyond his powers of solving.
+
+"You say your son has courted the girl," said the deacon, after a long
+pause; "that strip of land is the best part of Susan's share; I paid
+down five hundred dollars on the nail for it; I've got papers here that
+Judge Smith and 'Squire Moseley say will stand good in any court of
+law."
+
+Uncle Jaw pricked up his ears and was all attention, eying with eager
+looks the packet; but, to his disappointment, the deacon deliberately
+laid it into his desk, shut and locked it, and resumed his seat.
+
+"Now, railly," said Uncle Jaw, "I should like to know the particulars."
+
+"Well, well," said the deacon, "the lawyers will be at my house
+to-morrow evening, and if you have any concern about it, you may as well
+come along."
+
+Uncle Jaw wondered all the way home at what he could have done to get
+himself into the confidence of the old deacon, who, he rejoiced to
+think, was a going to "take" and go to law like other folks.
+
+The next day there was an appearance of some bustle and preparation
+about the deacon's house; the best room was opened and aired; an ovenful
+of cake was baked; and our friend Joseph, with a face full of business,
+was seen passing to and fro, in and out of the house, from various
+closetings with the deacon. The deacon's lady bustled about the house
+with an air of wonderful mystery, and even gave her directions about
+eggs and raisins in a whisper, lest they should possibly let out some
+eventful secret.
+
+The afternoon of that day Joseph appeared at the house of the sisters,
+stating that there was to be company at the deacon's that evening, and
+he was sent to invite them.
+
+"Why, what's got into the deacon's folks lately," said Silence, "to have
+company so often? Joe Adams, this 'ere is some 'cut up' of yours. Come,
+what are you up to now?"
+
+"Come, come, dress yourselves and get ready," said Joseph; and, stepping
+up to Susan, as she was following Silence out of the room, he whispered
+something into her ear, at which she stopped short and colored
+violently.
+
+"Why, Joseph, what do you mean?"
+
+"It is so," said he.
+
+"No, no, Joseph; no, I can't, indeed I can't."
+
+"But you _can_, Susan."
+
+"O Joseph, don't."
+
+"O Susan, _do_."
+
+"Why, how strange, Joseph!"
+
+"Come, come, my dear, you keep me waiting. If you have any objections on
+the score of propriety, we will talk about them _to-morrow_;" and our
+hero looked so saucy and so resolute that there was no disputing
+further; so, after a little more lingering and blushing on Susan's part,
+and a few kisses and persuasions on the part of the suitor, Miss Susan
+seemed to be brought to a state of resignation.
+
+At a table in the middle of Uncle Enos's north front room were seated
+the two lawyers, whose legal opinion was that evening to be fully made
+up. The younger of these, 'Squire Moseley, was a rosy, portly, laughing
+little bachelor, who boasted that he had offered himself, in rotation,
+to every pretty girl within twenty miles round, and, among others, to
+Susan Jones, notwithstanding which he still remained a bachelor, with a
+fair prospect of being an old one; but none of these things disturbed
+the boundless flow of good nature and complacency with which he seemed
+at all times full to overflowing. On the present occasion he appeared to
+be particularly in his element, as if he had some law business in hand
+remarkably suited to his turn of mind; for, on finishing the inspection
+of the papers, he started up, slapped his graver brother on the back,
+made two or three flourishes round the room, and then seizing the old
+deacon's hand, shook it violently, exclaiming,--
+
+"All's right, deacon, all's right! Go it! go it! hurrah!"
+
+When Uncle Jaw entered, the deacon, without preface, handed him a chair
+and the papers, saying,--
+
+"These papers are what you wanted to see. I just wish you would read
+them over."
+
+Uncle Jaw read them deliberately over. "Didn't I tell ye so, deacon? The
+case is as clear as a bell: now ye will go to law, won't you?"
+
+"Look here, Mr. Adams; now you have seen these papers, and heard what's
+to be said, I'll make you an offer. Let your son marry Susan Jones, and
+I'll burn these papers and say no more about it, and there won't be a
+girl in the parish with a finer portion."
+
+Uncle Jaw opened his eyes with amazement, and looked at the old man, his
+mouth gradually expanding wider and wider, as if he hoped, in time, to
+swallow the idea.
+
+"Well, now, I swan!" at length he ejaculated.
+
+"I mean just as I say," said the deacon.
+
+"Why, that's the same as giving the gal five hundred dollars out of your
+own pocket, and she ain't no relation neither."
+
+"I know it," said the deacon; "but I have said I will do it."
+
+"What upon 'arth for?" said Uncle Jaw.
+
+"To make peace," said the deacon, "and to let you know that when I say
+it is better to give up one's rights than to quarrel, I mean so. I am an
+old man; my children are dead"--his voice faltered--"my treasures are
+laid up in heaven; if I can make the children happy, why, I will. When I
+thought I had lost the land, I made up my mind to lose it, and so I can
+now."
+
+Uncle Jaw looked fixedly on the old deacon, and said,--
+
+"Well, deacon, I believe you. I vow, if you hain't got something ahead
+in t'other world, I'd like to know who has--that's all; so, if Joe has
+no objections, and I rather guess he won't have----"
+
+"The short of the matter is," said the squire, "we'll have a wedding; so
+come on;" and with that he threw open the parlor door, where stood Susan
+and Joseph in a recess by the window, while Silence and the Rev. Mr.
+Bissel were drawn up by the fire, and the deacon's lady was sweeping up
+the hearth, as she had been doing ever since the party arrived.
+
+Instantly Joseph took the hand of Susan, and led her to the middle of
+the room; the merry squire seized the hand of Miss Silence, and placed
+her as bridesmaid, and before any one knew what they were about, the
+ceremony was in actual progress, and the minister, having been
+previously instructed, made the two one with extraordinary celerity.
+
+"What! what! what!" said Uncle Jaw. "Joseph! Deacon!"
+
+"Fair bargain, sir," said the squire. "Hand over your papers, deacon."
+
+The deacon handed them, and the squire, having read them aloud,
+proceeded, with much ceremony, to throw them into the fire; after which,
+in a mock solemn oration, he gave a statement of the whole affair, and
+concluded with a grave exhortation to the new couple on the duties of
+wedlock, which unbent the risibles even of the minister himself.
+
+Uncle Jaw looked at his pretty daughter-in-law, who stood half smiling,
+half blushing, receiving the congratulations of the party, and then at
+Miss Silence, who appeared full as much taken by surprise as himself.
+
+"Well, well, Miss Silence, these 'ere young folks have come round us
+slick enough," said he. "I don't see but we must shake hands upon it."
+And the warlike powers shook hands accordingly, which was a signal for
+general merriment.
+
+As the company were dispersing, Miss Silence laid hold of the good
+deacon, and by main strength dragged him aside. "Deacon," said she, "I
+take back all that 'ere I said about you, every word on't."
+
+"Don't say any more about it, Miss Silence," said the good man; "it's
+gone by, and let it go."
+
+"Joseph!" said his father, the next morning, as he was sitting at
+breakfast with Joseph and Susan, "I calculate I shall feel kinder proud
+of this 'ere gal! and I'll tell you what, I'll jest give you that nice
+little delicate Stanton place that I took on Stanton's mortgage: it's a
+nice little place, with green blinds, and flowers, and all them things,
+just right for Susan."
+
+And accordingly, many happy years flew over the heads of the young
+couple in the Stanton place, long after the hoary hairs of their kind
+benefactor, the deacon, were laid with reverence in the dust. Uncle Jaw
+was so far wrought upon by the magnanimity of the good old man as to be
+very materially changed for the better. Instead of quarrelling in real
+earnest all around the neighborhood, he confined himself merely to
+battling the opposite side of every question with his son, which, as the
+latter was somewhat of a logician, afforded a pretty good field for the
+exercise of his powers; and he was heard to declare at the funeral of
+the old deacon, that, "after all, a man got as much, and may be more, to
+go along as the deacon did, than to be all the time fisting and jawing;
+though I tell you what it is," said he, afterwards, "'tain't every one
+that has the deacon's _faculty_, any how."
+
+
+
+
+THE TEA ROSE.
+
+
+There it stood, in its little green vase, on a light ebony stand, in the
+window of the drawing room. The rich satin curtains, with their costly
+fringes, swept down on either side of it, and around it glittered every
+rare and fanciful trifle which wealth can offer to luxury; and yet that
+simple rose was the fairest of them all. So pure it looked, its white
+leaves just touched with that delicious creamy tint peculiar to its
+kind; its cup so full, so perfect; its head bending as if it were
+sinking and melting away in its own richness--O, when did ever man make
+any thing to equal the living, perfect flower?
+
+But the sunlight that streamed through the window revealed something
+fairer than the rose. Reclined on an ottoman, in a deep recess, and
+intently engaged with a book, rested what seemed the counterpart of that
+so lovely flower. That cheek so pale, that fair forehead so spiritual,
+that countenance so full of high thought, those long, downcast lashes,
+and the expression of the beautiful mouth, sorrowful, yet subdued and
+sweet--it seemed like the picture of a dream.
+
+"Florence! Florence!" echoed a merry and musical voice, in a sweet,
+impatient tone. Turn your head, reader, and you will see a light and
+sparkling maiden, the very model of some little wilful elf, born of
+mischief and motion, with a dancing eye, a foot that scarcely seems to
+touch the carpet, and a smile so multiplied by dimples that it seems
+like a thousand smiles at once. "Come, Florence, I say," said the little
+sprite, "put down that wise, good, and excellent volume, and descend
+from your cloud, and talk with a poor little mortal."
+
+The fair apparition, thus adjured, obeyed; and, looking up, revealed
+just such eyes as you expected to see beneath such lids--eyes deep,
+pathetic, and rich as a strain of sad music.
+
+"I say, cousin," said the "bright ladye," "I have been thinking what you
+are to do with your pet rose when you go to New York, as, to our
+consternation, you are determined to do; you know it would be a sad pity
+to leave it with such a scatterbrain as I am. I do love flowers, that is
+a fact; that is, I like a regular bouquet, cut off and tied up, to carry
+to a party; but as to all this tending and fussing, which is needful to
+keep them growing, I have no gifts in that line."
+
+"Make yourself easy as to that, Kate," said Florence, with a smile; "I
+have no intention of calling upon your talents; I have an asylum in view
+for my favorite."
+
+"O, then you know just what I was going to say. Mrs. Marshall, I
+presume, has been speaking to you; she was here yesterday, and I was
+quite pathetic upon the subject, telling her the loss your favorite
+would sustain, and so forth; and she said how delighted she would be to
+have it in her greenhouse, it is in such a fine state now, so full of
+buds. I told her I knew you would like to give it to her, you are so
+fond of Mrs. Marshall, you know."
+
+"Now, Kate, I am sorry, but I have otherwise engaged it."
+
+"Whom can it be to? you have so few intimates here."
+
+"O, it is only one of my odd fancies."
+
+"But do tell me, Florence."
+
+"Well, cousin, you know the little pale girl to whom we give sewing."
+
+"What! little Mary Stephens? How absurd! Florence, this is just another
+of your motherly, oldmaidish ways--dressing dolls for poor children,
+making bonnets and knitting socks for all the little dirty babies in the
+region round about. I do believe you have made more calls in those two
+vile, ill-smelling alleys back of our house, than ever you have in
+Chestnut Street, though you know every body is half dying to see you;
+and now, to crown all, you must give this choice little bijou to a
+seamstress girl, when one of your most intimate friends, in your own
+class, would value it so highly. What in the world can people in their
+circumstances want of flowers?"
+
+"Just the same as I do," replied Florence, calmly. "Have you not noticed
+that the little girl never comes here without looking wistfully at the
+opening buds? And don't you remember, the other morning, she asked me so
+prettily if I would let her mother come and see it, she was so fond of
+flowers?"
+
+"But, Florence, only think of this rare flower standing on a table with
+ham, eggs, cheese, and flour, and stifled in that close little room
+where Mrs. Stephens and her daughter manage to wash, iron, cook, and
+nobody knows what besides."
+
+"Well, Kate, and if I were obliged to live in one coarse room, and wash,
+and iron, and cook, as you say,--if I had to spend every moment of my
+time in toil, with no prospect from my window but a brick wall and dirty
+lane,--such a flower as this would be untold enjoyment to me."
+
+"Pshaw! Florence--all sentiment: poor people have no time to be
+sentimental. Besides, I don't believe it will grow with them; it is a
+greenhouse flower, and used to delicate living."
+
+"O, as to that, a flower never inquires whether its owner is rich or
+poor; and Mrs. Stephens, whatever else she has not, has sunshine of as
+good quality as this that streams through our window. The beautiful
+things that God makes are his gift to all alike. You will see that my
+fair rose will be as well and cheerful in Mrs. Stephens's room as in
+ours."
+
+"Well, after all, how odd! When one gives to poor people, one wants to
+give them something _useful_--a bushel of potatoes, a ham, and such
+things."
+
+"Why, certainly, potatoes and ham must be supplied; but, having
+ministered to the first and most craving wants, why not add any other
+little pleasures or gratifications we may have it in our power to
+bestow? I know there are many of the poor who have fine feeling and a
+keen sense of the beautiful, which rusts out and dies because they are
+too hard pressed to procure it any gratification. Poor Mrs. Stephens,
+for example: I know she would enjoy birds, and flowers, and music, as
+much as I do. I have seen her eye light up as she looked on these things
+in our drawing room, and yet not one beautiful thing can she command.
+From necessity, her room, her clothing, all she has, must be coarse and
+plain. You should have seen the almost rapture she and Mary felt when I
+offered them my rose."
+
+"Dear me! all this may be true, but I never thought of it before. I
+never thought that these hard-working people had any ideas of _taste_!"
+
+"Then why do you see the geranium or rose so carefully nursed in the old
+cracked teapot in the poorest room, or the morning glory planted in a
+box and twined about the window? Do not these show that the human heart
+yearns for the beautiful in all ranks of life? You remember, Kate, how
+our washerwoman sat up a whole night, after a hard day's work, to make
+her first baby a pretty dress to be baptized in."
+
+"Yes, and I remember how I laughed at you for making such a tasteful
+little cap for it."
+
+"Well, Katy, I think the look of perfect delight with which the poor
+mother regarded her baby in its new dress and cap was something quite
+worth creating: I do believe she could not have felt more grateful if I
+had sent her a barrel of flour."
+
+"Well, I never thought before of giving any thing to the poor but what
+they really needed, and I have always been willing to do that when I
+could without going far out of my way."
+
+"Well, cousin, if our heavenly Father gave to us after this mode, we
+should have only coarse, shapeless piles of provisions lying about the
+world, instead of all this beautiful variety of trees, and fruits, and
+flowers."
+
+"Well, well, cousin, I suppose you are right--but have mercy on my poor
+head; it is too small to hold so many new ideas all at once--so go on
+your own way." And the little lady began practising a waltzing step
+before the glass with great satisfaction.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was a very small room, lighted by only one window. There was no
+carpet on the floor; there was a clean, but coarsely-covered bed in one
+corner; a cupboard, with a few dishes and plates, in the other; a chest
+of drawers; and before the window stood a small cherry stand, quite new,
+and, indeed, it was the only article in the room that seemed so.
+
+A pale, sickly-looking woman of about forty was leaning back in her
+rocking chair, her eyes closed and her lips compressed as if in pain.
+She rocked backward and forward a few minutes, pressed her hand hard
+upon her eyes, and then languidly resumed her fine stitching, on which
+she had been busy since morning. The door opened, and a slender little
+girl of about twelve years of age entered, her large blue eyes dilated
+and radiant with delight as she bore in the vase with the rose tree in
+it.
+
+"O, see, mother, see! Here is one in full bloom, and two more half out,
+and ever so many more pretty buds peeping out of the green leaves."
+
+The poor woman's face brightened as she looked, first on the rose and
+then on her sickly child, on whose face she had not seen so bright a
+color for months.
+
+"God bless her!" she exclaimed, unconsciously.
+
+"Miss Florence--yes, I knew you would feel so, mother. Does it not make
+your head feel better to see such a beautiful flower? Now, you will not
+look so longingly at the flowers in the market, for we have a rose that
+is handsomer than any of them. Why, it seems to me it is worth as much
+to us as our whole little garden used to be. Only see how many buds
+there are! Just count them, and only smell the flower! Now, where shall
+we set it up?" And Mary skipped about, placing her flower first in one
+position and then in another, and walking off to see the effect, till
+her mother gently reminded her that the rose tree could not preserve its
+beauty without sunlight.
+
+"O, yes, truly," said Mary; "well, then, it must stand here on our new
+stand. How glad I am that we have such a handsome new stand for it! it
+will look so much better." And Mrs. Stephens laid down her work, and
+folded a piece of newspaper, on which the treasure was duly deposited.
+
+"There," said Mary, watching the arrangement eagerly, "that will do--no,
+for it does not show both the opening buds; a little farther around--a
+little more; there, that is right;" and then Mary walked around to view
+the rose in various positions, after which she urged her mother to go
+with her to the outside, and see how it looked there. "How kind it was
+in Miss Florence to think of giving this to us!" said Mary; "though she
+had done so much for us, and given us so many things, yet this seems the
+best of all, because it seems as if she thought of us, and knew just how
+we felt; and so few do that, you know, mother."
+
+What a bright afternoon that little gift made in that little room! How
+much faster Mary's fingers flew the livelong day as she sat sewing by
+her mother! and Mrs. Stephens, in the happiness of her child, almost
+forgot that she had a headache, and thought, as she sipped her evening
+cup of tea, that she felt stronger than she had done for some time.
+
+That rose! its sweet influence died not with the first day. Through all
+the long, cold winter, the watching, tending, cherishing that flower
+awakened a thousand pleasant trains of thought, that beguiled the
+sameness and weariness of their life. Every day the fair, growing thing
+put forth some fresh beauty--a leaf, a bud, a new shoot, and constantly
+awakened fresh enjoyment in its possessors. As it stood in the window,
+the passer by would sometimes stop and gaze, attracted by its beauty,
+and then proud and happy was Mary; nor did even the serious and
+care-worn widow notice with indifference this tribute to the beauty of
+their favorite.
+
+But little did Florence think, when she bestowed the gift, that there
+twined about it an invisible thread that reached far and brightly into
+the web of her destiny.
+
+One cold afternoon in early spring, a tall and graceful gentleman called
+at the lowly room to pay for the making of some linen by the inmates. He
+was a stranger and wayfarer, recommended through the charity of some of
+Mrs. Stephens's patrons. As he turned to go, his eye rested admiringly
+on the rose tree; and he stopped to gaze at it.
+
+"How beautiful!" said he.
+
+"Yes," said little Mary; "and it was given to us by a lady as sweet and
+beautiful as that is."
+
+"Ah," said the stranger, turning upon her a pair of bright dark eyes,
+pleased and rather struck by the communication; "and how came she to
+give it to you, my little girl?"
+
+"O, because we are poor, and mother is sick, and we never can have any
+thing pretty. We used to have a garden once; and we loved flowers so
+much, and Miss Florence found it out, and so she gave us this."
+
+"Florence!" echoed the stranger.
+
+"Yes, Miss Florence L'Estrange--a beautiful lady. They say she was from
+foreign parts; but she speaks English just like other ladies, only
+sweeter."
+
+"Is she here now? is she in this city?" said the gentleman, eagerly.
+
+"No; she left some months ago," said the widow, noticing the shade of
+disappointment on his face. "But," said she, "you can find out all about
+her at her aunt's, Mrs. Carlysle's, No. 10 ---- Street."
+
+A short time after Florence received a letter in a handwriting that made
+her tremble. During the many early years of her life spent in France she
+had well learned to know that writing--had loved as a woman like her
+loves only once; but there had been obstacles of parents and friends,
+long separation, long suspense, till, after anxious years, she had
+believed the ocean had closed over that hand and heart; and it was this
+that had touched with such pensive sorrow the lines in her lovely face.
+
+But this letter told that he was living--that he had traced her, even as
+a hidden streamlet may be traced, by the freshness, the verdure of
+heart, which her deeds of kindness had left wherever she had passed.
+Thus much said, our readers need no help in finishing my story for
+themselves.
+
+
+
+
+TRIALS OF A HOUSEKEEPER.
+
+
+I have a detail of very homely grievances to present; but such as they
+are, many a heart will feel them to be heavy--_the trials of a
+housekeeper_.
+
+"Poh!" says one of the lords of creation, taking his cigar out of his
+mouth, and twirling it between his two first fingers, "what a fuss these
+women do make of this simple matter of _managing a family_! I can't see
+for my life as there is any thing so extraordinary to be done in this
+matter of housekeeping: only three meals a day to be got and cleared
+off--and it really seems to take up the whole of their mind from morning
+till night. _I_ could keep house without so much of a flurry, I know."
+
+Now, prithee, good brother, listen to my story, and see how much you
+know about it. I came to this enlightened West about a year since, and
+was duly established in a comfortable country residence within a mile
+and a half of the city, and there commenced the enjoyment of domestic
+felicity. I had been married about three months, and had been previously
+_in love_ in the most approved romantic way, with all the proprieties of
+moonlight walks, serenades, sentimental billets doux, and everlasting
+attachment.
+
+After having been allowed, as I said, about three months to get over
+this sort of thing, and to prepare for realities, I was located for life
+as aforesaid. My family consisted of myself and husband, a female friend
+as a visitor, and two brothers of my good man, who were engaged with him
+in business.
+
+I pass over the two or three first days, spent in that process of
+hammering boxes, breaking crockery, knocking things down and picking
+them up again, which is commonly called getting to housekeeping. As
+usual, carpets were sewed and stretched, laid down, and taken up to be
+sewed over; things were formed, and _re_formed, _trans_formed, and
+_con_formed, till at last a settled order began to appear. But now came
+up the great point of all. During our confusion we had cooked and eaten
+our meals in a very miscellaneous and pastoral manner, eating now from
+the top of a barrel and now from a fireboard laid on two chairs, and
+drinking, some from teacups, and some from saucers, and some from
+tumblers, and some from a pitcher big enough to be drowned in, and
+sleeping, some on sofas, and some on straggling beds and mattresses
+thrown down here and there wherever there was room. All these pleasant
+barbarities were now at an end. The house was in order, the dishes put
+up in their places; three regular meals were to be administered in one
+day, all in an orderly, civilized form; beds were to be made, rooms
+swept and dusted, dishes washed, knives scoured, and all the et cetera
+to be attended to. Now for getting "_help_," as Mrs. Trollope says; and
+where and how were we to get it? We knew very few persons in the city;
+and how were we to accomplish the matter? At length the "house of
+employment" was mentioned; and my husband was despatched thither
+regularly every day for a week, while I, in the mean time, was very
+nearly _despatched_ by the abundance of work at home. At length, one
+evening, as I was sitting completely exhausted, thinking of resorting to
+the last feminine expedient for supporting life, viz., a good fit of
+crying, my husband made his appearance, with a most triumphant air, at
+the door. "There, Margaret, I have got you a couple at last--cook and
+chambermaid." So saying, he flourished open the door, and gave to my
+view the picture of a little, dry, snuffy-looking old woman, and a
+great, staring Dutch girl, in a green bonnet with red ribbons, with
+mouth wide open, and hands and feet that would have made a Greek
+sculptor open _his_ mouth too. I addressed forthwith a few words of
+encouragement to each of this cultivated-looking couple, and proceeded
+to ask their names; and forthwith the old woman began to snuffle and to
+wipe her face with what was left of an old silk pocket handkerchief
+preparatory to speaking, while the young lady opened her mouth wider,
+and looked around with a frightened air, as if meditating an escape.
+After some preliminaries, however, I found out that my old woman was
+Mrs. Tibbins, and my Hebe's name was _Kotterin;_ also, that she knew
+much more Dutch than English, and not any too much of either. The old
+lady was the cook. I ventured a few inquiries. "Had she ever cooked?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am, sartain; she had lived at two or three places in the city."
+
+"I suspect, my dear," said my husband confidently, "that she is an
+experienced cook, and so your troubles are over;" and he went to reading
+his newspaper. I said no more, but determined to wait till morning. The
+breakfast, to be sure, did not do much honor to the talents of my
+official; but it was the first time, and the place was new to her. After
+breakfast was cleared away I proceeded to give directions for dinner; it
+was merely a plain joint of meat, I said, to be roasted in the tin oven.
+The _experienced cook_ looked at me with a stare of entire vacuity. "The
+tin oven," I repeated, "stands there," pointing to it.
+
+She walked up to it, and touched it with such an appearance of suspicion
+as if it had been an electrical battery, and then looked round at me
+with a look of such helpless ignorance that my soul was moved. "I never
+see one of them things before," said she.
+
+"Never saw a tin oven!" I exclaimed. "I thought you said you had cooked
+in two or three families."
+
+"They does not have such things as them, though," rejoined my old lady.
+Nothing was to be done, of course, but to instruct her into the
+philosophy of the case; and having spitted the joint, and given
+numberless directions, I walked off to my room to superintend the
+operations of Kotterin, to whom I had committed the making of my bed and
+the sweeping of my room, it never having come into my head that there
+_could be_ a wrong way of making a bed; and to this day it is a marvel
+to me how any one could arrange pillows and quilts to make such a
+nondescript appearance as mine now presented. One glance showed me that
+Kotterin also was "_just caught_," and that I had as much to do in her
+department as in that of my old lady.
+
+Just then the door bell rang. "O, there is the door bell," I exclaimed.
+"Run, Kotterin, and show them into the parlor."
+
+Kotterin started to run, as directed, and then stopped, and stood
+looking round on all the doors and on me with a wofully puzzled air.
+"The street door," said I, pointing towards the entry. Kotterin
+blundered into the entry, and stood gazing with a look of stupid wonder
+at the bell ringing without hands, while I went to the door and let in
+the company before she could be fairly made to understand the connection
+between the ringing and the phenomenon of admission.
+
+As dinner time approached, I sent word into my kitchen to have it set
+on; but, recollecting the state of the heads of department there, I soon
+followed my own orders. I found the tin oven standing out in the middle
+of the kitchen, and my cook seated _a la Turc_ in front of it,
+contemplating the roast meat with full as puzzled an air as in the
+morning. I once more explained the mystery of taking it off, and
+assisted her to get it on to the platter, though somewhat cooled by
+having been so long set out for inspection. I was standing holding the
+spit in my hands, when Kotterin, who had heard the door bell ring, and
+was determined this time to be in season, ran into the hall, and soon
+returning, opened the kitchen door, and politely ushered in three or
+four fashionable looking ladies, exclaiming, "Here she is." As these
+were strangers from the city, who had come to make their first call,
+this introduction was far from proving an eligible one--the look of
+thunderstruck astonishment with which I greeted their first appearance,
+as I stood brandishing the spit, and the terrified snuffling and staring
+of poor Mrs. Tibbins, who again had recourse to her old pocket
+handkerchief, almost entirely vanquished their gravity, and it was
+evident that they were on the point of a broad laugh; so, recovering my
+self-possession, I apologized, and led the way to the parlor.
+
+Let these few incidents be a specimen of the four mortal weeks that I
+spent with these "_helps_," during which time I did almost as much work,
+with twice as much anxiety, as when there was nobody there; and yet
+every thing went wrong besides. The young gentlemen complained of the
+patches of starch grimed to their collars, and the streaks of black coal
+ironed into their dickies, while one week every pocket handkerchief in
+the house was starched so stiff that you might as well have carried an
+earthen plate in your pocket; the tumblers looked muddy; the plates were
+never washed clean or wiped dry unless I attended to each one; and as to
+eating and drinking, we experienced a variety that we had not before
+considered possible.
+
+At length the old woman vanished from the stage, and was succeeded by a
+knowing, active, capable damsel, with a temper like a steel-trap, who
+remained with me just one week, and then went off in a fit of spite. To
+her succeeded a rosy, good-natured, merry lass, who broke the crockery,
+burned the dinner, tore the clothes in ironing, and knocked down every
+thing that stood in her way about the house, without at all discomposing
+herself about the matter. One night she took the stopper from a barrel
+of molasses, and came singing off up stairs, while the molasses ran
+soberly out into the cellar bottom all night, till by morning it was in
+a state of universal emancipation. Having done this, and also despatched
+an entire set of tea things by letting the waiter fall, she one day made
+her disappearance.
+
+Then, for a wonder, there fell to my lot a tidy, efficient-trained
+English girl; pretty, and genteel, and neat, and knowing how to do every
+thing, and with the sweetest temper in the world. "Now," said I to
+myself, "I shall _rest_ from my labors." Every thing about the house
+began to go right, and looked as clean and genteel as Mary's own pretty
+self. But, alas! this period of repose was interrupted by the vision of
+a clever, trim-looking young man, who for some weeks could be heard
+scraping his boots at the kitchen door every Sunday night; and at last
+Miss Mary, with some smiling and blushing, gave me to understand that
+she must leave in two weeks.
+
+"Why, Mary," said I, feeling a little mischievous, "don't you like the
+place?"
+
+"O, yes, ma'am."
+
+"Then why do you look for another?"
+
+"I am not going to another place."
+
+"What, Mary, are you going to learn a trade?"
+
+"No, ma'am."
+
+"Why, then, what do you mean to do?"
+
+"I expect to keep house _myself_, ma'am," said she, laughing and
+blushing.
+
+"O ho!" said I, "that is it;" and so, in two weeks, I lost the best
+little girl in the world: peace to her memory.
+
+After this came an interregnum, which put me in mind of the chapter in
+Chronicles that I used to read with great delight when a child, where
+Basha, and Elah, and Tibni, and Zimri, and Omri, one after the other,
+came on to the throne of Israel, all in the compass of half a dozen
+verses. We had one old woman, who staid a week, and went away with the
+misery in her tooth; one _young_ woman, who ran away and got married;
+one cook, who came at night and went off before light in the morning;
+one very clever girl, who staid a month, and then went away because her
+mother was sick; another, who staid six weeks, and was taken with the
+fever herself; and during all this time, who can speak the damage and
+destruction wrought in the domestic paraphernalia by passing through
+these multiplied hands?
+
+What shall we do? Shall we give up houses, have no furniture to take
+care of, keep merely a bag of meal, a porridge pot, and a pudding stick,
+and sit in our tent door in real patriarchal independence? What shall we
+do?
+
+
+
+
+LITTLE EDWARD.
+
+
+Were any of you born in New England, in the good old catechizing,
+church-going, school-going, orderly times? If so, you may have seen my
+Uncle Abel; the most perpendicular, rectangular, upright, downright good
+man that ever labored six days and rested on the seventh.
+
+You remember his hard, weather-beaten countenance, where every line
+seemed drawn with "a pen of iron and the point of a diamond;" his
+considerate gray eyes, that moved over objects as if it were not best to
+be in a hurry about seeing; the circumspect opening and shutting of the
+mouth; his down-sitting and up-rising, all performed with conviction
+aforethought--in short, the whole ordering of his life and conversation,
+which was, according to the tenor of the military order, "to the right
+about face--forward, march!"
+
+Now, if you supposed, from all this triangularism of exterior, that this
+good man had nothing kindly within, you were much mistaken. You often
+find the greenest grass under a snowdrift; and though my uncle's mind
+was not exactly of the flower garden kind, still there was an abundance
+of wholesome and kindly vegetation there.
+
+It is true, he seldom laughed, and never joked himself; but no man had a
+more serious and weighty conviction of what a good joke was in another;
+and when some exceeding witticism was dispensed in his presence, you
+might see Uncle Abel's face slowly relax into an expression of solemn
+satisfaction, and he would look at the author with a sort of quiet
+wonder, as if it was past his comprehension how such a thing could ever
+come into a man's head.
+
+Uncle Abel, too, had some relish for the fine arts; in proof of which, I
+might adduce the pleasure with which he gazed at the plates in his
+family Bible, the likeness whereof is neither in heaven, nor on earth,
+nor under the earth. And he was also such an eminent musician, that he
+could go through the singing book at one sitting without the least
+fatigue, beating time like a windmill all the way.
+
+He had, too, a liberal hand, though his liberality was all by the rule
+of three. He did by his neighbor exactly as he would be done by; he
+loved some things in this world very sincerely: he loved his God much,
+but he honored and feared him more; he was exact with others, he was
+more exact with himself, and he expected his God to be more exact still.
+
+Every thing in Uncle Abel's house was in the same time, place, manner,
+and form, from year's end to year's end. There was old Master Bose, a
+dog after my uncle's own heart, who always walked as if he was studying
+the multiplication table. There was the old clock, forever ticking in
+the kitchen corner, with a picture on its face of the sun, forever
+setting behind a perpendicular row of poplar trees. There was the
+never-failing supply of red peppers and onions hanging over the chimney.
+There, too, were the yearly hollyhocks and morning-glories blooming
+about the windows. There was the "best room," with its sanded floor, the
+cupboard in one corner with its glass doors, the ever green asparagus
+bushes in the chimney, and there was the stand with the Bible and
+almanac on it in another corner. There, too, was Aunt Betsey, who never
+looked any older, because she always looked as old as she could; who
+always dried her catnip and wormwood the last of September, and began to
+clean house the first of May. In short, this was the land of
+continuance. Old Time never took it into his head to practise either
+addition, or subtraction, or multiplication on its sum total.
+
+This Aunt Betsey aforenamed was the neatest and most efficient piece of
+human machinery that ever operated in forty places at once. She was
+always every where, predominating over and seeing to every thing; and
+though my uncle had been twice married, Aunt Betsey's rule and authority
+had never been broken. She reigned over his wives when living, and
+reigned after them when dead, and so seemed likely to reign on to the
+end of the chapter. But my uncle's latest wife left Aunt Betsey a much
+less tractable subject than ever before had fallen to her lot. Little
+Edward was the child of my uncle's old age, and a brighter, merrier
+little blossom never grew on the verge of an avalanche. He had been
+committed to the nursing of his grandmamma till he had arrived at the
+age of _in_discretion, and then my old uncle's heart so yearned for him
+that he was sent for home.
+
+His introduction into the family excited a terrible sensation. Never was
+there such a condemner of dignities, such a violator of high places and
+sanctities, as this very Master Edward. It was all in vain to try to
+teach him decorum. He was the most outrageously merry elf that ever
+shook a head of curls; and it was all the same to him whether it was
+"_Sabba' day_" or any other day. He laughed and frolicked with every
+body and every thing that came in his way, not even excepting his solemn
+old father; and when you saw him, with his fair arms around the old
+man's neck, and his bright blue eyes and blooming cheek peering out
+beside the bleak face of Uncle Abel, you might fancy you saw spring
+caressing winter. Uncle Abel's metaphysics were sorely puzzled by this
+sparkling, dancing compound of spirit and matter; nor could he devise
+any method of bringing it into any reasonable shape, for he did mischief
+with an energy and perseverance that was truly astonishing. Once he
+scoured the floor with Aunt Betsey's very Scotch snuff; once he washed
+up the hearth with Uncle Abel's most immaculate clothes brush; and once
+he was found trying to make Bose wear his father's spectacles. In short,
+there was no use, except the right one, to which he did not put every
+thing that came in his way.
+
+But Uncle Abel was most of all puzzled to know what to do with him on
+the Sabbath, for on that day Master Edward seemed to exert himself to be
+particularly diligent and entertaining.
+
+"Edward! Edward must not play Sunday!" his father would call out; and
+then Edward would hold up his curly head, and look as grave as the
+catechism; but in three minutes you would see "pussy" scampering through
+the "best room," with Edward at her heels, to the entire discomposure of
+all devotion in Aunt Betsey and all others in authority.
+
+At length my uncle came to the conclusion that "it wasn't in natur' to
+teach him any better," and that "he could no more keep Sunday than the
+brook down in the lot." My poor uncle! he did not know what was the
+matter with his heart, but certain it was, he lost all faculty of
+scolding when little Edward was in the case, and he would rub his
+spectacles a quarter of an hour longer than common when Aunt Betsey was
+detailing his witticisms and clever doings.
+
+In process of time our hero had compassed his third year, and arrived at
+the dignity of going to school. He went illustriously through the
+spelling book, and then attacked the catechism; went from "man's chief
+end" to the "requirin's and forbiddin's" in a fortnight, and at last
+came home inordinately merry, to tell his father that he had got to
+"Amen." After this, he made a regular business of saying over the whole
+every Sunday evening, standing with his hands folded in front and his
+checked apron folded down, occasionally glancing round to see if pussy
+gave proper attention. And, being of a practically benevolent turn of
+mind, he made several commendable efforts to teach Bose the catechism,
+in which he succeeded as well as might be expected. In short, without
+further detail, Master Edward bade fair to become a literary wonder.
+
+But alas for poor little Edward! his merry dance was soon over. A day
+came when he sickened. Aunt Betsey tried her whole herbarium, but in
+vain: he grew rapidly worse and worse. His father sickened in heart, but
+said nothing; he only staid by his bedside day and night, trying all
+means to save, with affecting pertinacity.
+
+"Can't you think of any thing more, doctor?" said he to the physician,
+when all had been tried in vain.
+
+"Nothing," answered the physician.
+
+A momentary convulsion passed over my uncle's face. "The will of the
+Lord be done," said he, almost with a groan of anguish.
+
+Just at that moment a ray of the setting sun pierced the checked
+curtains, and gleamed like an angel's smile across the face of the
+little sufferer. He woke from troubled sleep.
+
+"O, dear! I am so sick!" he gasped, feebly. His father raised him in his
+arms; he breathed easier, and looked up with a grateful smile. Just then
+his old playmate, the cat, crossed the room. "There goes pussy," said
+he; "O, dear! I shall never play any more."
+
+At that moment a deadly change passed over his face. He looked up in his
+father's face with an imploring expression, and put out his hand as if
+for help. There was one moment of agony, and then the sweet features all
+settled into a smile of peace, and "mortality was swallowed up of life."
+
+My uncle laid him down, and looked one moment at his beautiful face. It
+was too much for his principles, too much for his consistency, and "he
+lifted up his voice and wept."
+
+The next morning was the Sabbath--the funeral day--and it rose with
+"breath all incense and with cheek all bloom." Uncle Abel was as calm
+and collected as ever; but in his face there was a sorrow-stricken
+appearance touching to behold. I remember him at family prayers, as he
+bent over the great Bible and began the psalm, "Lord, thou hast been our
+dwelling-place in all generations." Apparently he was touched by the
+melancholy splendor of the poetry, for after reading a few verses he
+stopped. There was a dead silence, interrupted only by the tick of the
+clock. He cleared his voice repeatedly, and tried to go on, but in vain.
+He closed the book, and kneeled down to prayer. The energy of sorrow
+broke through his usual formal reverence, and his language flowed forth
+with a deep and sorrowful pathos which I shall never forget. The God so
+much reverenced, so much feared, seemed to draw near to him as a friend
+and comforter, his refuge and strength, "a very present help in time of
+trouble."
+
+My uncle rose, and I saw him walk to the room of the departed one. He
+uncovered the face. It was set with the seal of death; but O, how
+surpassingly lovely! The brilliancy of life was gone, but that pure,
+transparent face was touched with a mysterious, triumphant brightness,
+which seemed like the dawning of heaven.
+
+My uncle looked long and earnestly. He felt the beauty of what he gazed
+on; his heart was softened, but he had no words for his feelings. He
+left the room unconsciously, and stood in the front door. The morning
+was bright, the bells were ringing for church, the birds were singing
+merrily, and the pet squirrel of little Edward was frolicking about the
+door. My uncle watched him as he ran first up one tree, and then down
+and up another, and then over the fence, whisking his brush and
+chattering just as if nothing was the matter.
+
+With a deep sigh Uncle Abel broke forth, "How happy that _cretur'_ is!
+Well, the Lord's will be done."
+
+That day the dust was committed to dust, amid the lamentations of all
+who had known little Edward. Years have passed since then, and all that
+is mortal of my uncle has long since been gathered to his fathers; but
+his just and upright spirit has entered the glorious liberty of the sons
+of God. Yes, the good man may have had opinions which the philosophical
+scorn, weaknesses at which the thoughtless smile; but death shall change
+him into all that is enlightened, wise, and refined; for he shall awake
+in "His" likeness, and "be satisfied."
+
+
+
+
+AUNT MARY.
+
+
+Since sketching character is the mode, I too take up my pencil, not to
+make you laugh, though peradventure it may be--to get you to sleep.
+
+I am now a tolerably old gentleman--an old bachelor, moreover--and, what
+is more to the point, an unpretending and sober-minded one. Lest,
+however, any of the ladies should take exceptions against me in the very
+outset, I will merely remark, _en passant_, that a man can sometimes
+become an old bachelor because he has _too much_ heart as well as too
+little.
+
+Years ago--before any of my readers were born--I was a little
+good-for-nought of a boy, of precisely that unlucky kind who are always
+in every body's way, and always in mischief. I had, to watch over my
+uprearing, a father and mother, and a whole army of older brothers and
+sisters. My relatives bore a very great resemblance to other human
+beings, neither good angels nor the opposite class, but, as
+mathematicians say, "in the mean proportion."
+
+As I have before insinuated, I was a sort of family scape-grace among
+them, and one on whose head all the domestic trespasses were regularly
+visited, either by real, actual desert or by imputation.
+
+For this order of things, there was, I confess, a very solid and serious
+foundation, in the constitution of my mind. Whether I was born under
+some cross-eyed planet, or whether I was fairy-smitten in my cradle,
+certain it is that I was, from the dawn of existence, a sort of "Murad
+the Unlucky;" an out-of-time, out-of-place, out-of-form sort of a boy,
+with whom nothing prospered.
+
+Who always left open doors in cold weather? It was Henry. Who was sure
+to upset his coffee cup at breakfast, or to knock over his tumbler at
+dinner, or to prostrate saltcellar, pepper box, and mustard pot, if he
+only happened to move his arm? Why, Henry. Who was plate breaker general
+for the family? It was Henry. Who tangled mamma's silks and cottons, and
+tore up the last newspaper for papa, or threw down old Ph[oe]be's
+clothes horse, with all her clean ironing thereupon? Why, Henry.
+
+Now all this was no "malice prepense" in me, for I solemnly believe that
+I was the best-natured boy in the world; but something was the matter
+with the attraction of cohesion, or the attraction of gravitation--with
+the general dispensation of matter around me--that, let me do what I
+would, things would fall down, and break, or be torn and damaged, if I
+only came near them; and my unluckiness in any matter seemed in exact
+proportion to my carefulness.
+
+If any body in the room with me had a headache, or any kind of nervous
+irritability, which made it particularly necessary for others to be
+quiet, and if I was in an especial desire unto the same, I was sure,
+while stepping around on tiptoe, to fall headlong over a chair, which
+would give an introductory push to the shovel, which would fall upon the
+tongs, which would animate the poker, and all together would set in
+action two or three sticks of wood, and down they would come together,
+with just that hearty, sociable sort of racket, which showed that they
+were disposed to make as much of the opportunity as possible.
+
+In the same manner, every thing that came into my hand, or was at all
+connected with me, was sure to lose by it. If I rejoiced in a clean
+apron in the morning, I was sure to make a full-length prostration
+thereupon on my way to school, and come home nothing better, but rather
+worse. If I was sent on an errand, I was sure either to lose my money in
+going, or my purchases in returning; and on these occasions my mother
+would often comfort me with the reflection, that it was well that my
+ears were fastened to my head, or I should lose them too. Of course, I
+was a fair mark for the exhortatory powers, not only of my parents, but
+of all my aunts, uncles, and cousins, to the third and fourth
+generation, who ceased not to reprove, rebuke, and exhort with all
+long-suffering and doctrine.
+
+All this would have been very well if nature had not gifted me with a
+very unnecessary and uncomfortable capacity of _feeling_, which, like a
+refined ear for music, is undesirable, because, in this world, one meets
+with discord ninety-nine times where it meets with harmony once. Much,
+therefore, as I furnished occasion to be scolded at, I never became
+_used_ to scolding, so that I was just as much galled by it the
+_forty_-first time as the first. There was no such thing as philosophy
+in me: I had just that unreasonable heart which is not conformed unto
+the nature of things, neither indeed _can_ be. I was timid, and
+shrinking, and proud; I was nothing to any one around me but an awkward,
+unlucky boy; nothing to my parents but one of half a dozen children,
+whose faces were to be washed and stockings mended on Saturday
+afternoon. If I was very sick, I had medicine and the doctor; if I was a
+little sick, I was exhorted unto patience; and if I was sick at heart, I
+was left to prescribe for myself.
+
+Now, all this was very well: what should a child need but meat, and
+drink, and room to play, and a school to teach him reading and writing,
+and somebody to take care of him when sick? Certainly, nothing.
+
+But the feelings of grown-up children exist in the mind of little ones
+oftener than is supposed; and I had, even at this early day, the same
+keen sense of all that touched the heart wrong; the same longing for
+something which should touch it aright; the same discontent, with
+latent, matter-of-course affection, and the same craving for sympathy,
+which has been the unprofitable fashion of this world in all ages. And
+no human being possessing such constitutionals has a better chance of
+being made unhappy by them than the backward, uninteresting, wrong-doing
+child. We can all sympathize, to some extent, with _men_ and _women_;
+but how few can go back to the sympathies of childhood; can understand
+the desolate insignificance of not being one of the _grown-up_ people;
+of being sent to bed, to be _out of the way_ in the evening, and to
+school, to be out of the way in the morning; of manifold similar
+grievances and distresses, which the child has no elocution to set
+forth, and the grown person no imagination to conceive.
+
+When I was seven years old, I was told one morning, with considerable
+domestic acclamation, that Aunt Mary was coming to make us a visit; and
+so, when the carriage that brought her stopped at our door, I pulled off
+my dirty apron, and ran in among the crowd of brothers and sisters to
+see what was coming. I shall not describe her first appearance, for, as
+I think of her, I begin to grow somewhat sentimental, in spite of my
+spectacles, and might, perhaps, talk a little nonsense.
+
+Perhaps every man, whether married or unmarried, who has lived to the
+age of fifty or thereabouts, has seen some woman who, in his mind, is
+_the_ woman, in distinction from all others. She may not have been a
+relative; she may not have been a wife; she may simply have shone on him
+from afar; she may be remembered in the distance of years as a star that
+is set, as music that is hushed, as beauty and loveliness faded forever;
+but _remembered_ she is with interest, with fervor, with enthusiasm;
+with all that heart can feel, and more than words can tell.
+
+To me there has been but one such, and that is she whom I describe. "Was
+she beautiful?" you ask. I also will ask you one question: "If an angel
+from heaven should dwell in human form, and animate any human face,
+would not that face be lovely? It might not be _beautiful_, but would it
+not be lovely?" She was not beautiful except after this fashion.
+
+How well I remember her, as she used sometimes to sit thinking, with her
+head resting on her hand, her face mild and placid, with a quiet October
+sunshine in her blue eyes, and an ever-present smile over her whole
+countenance. I remember the sudden sweetness of look when any one spoke
+to her; the prompt attention, the quick comprehension of things before
+you uttered them, the obliging readiness to leave for you whatever she
+was doing.
+
+To those who mistake occasional pensiveness for melancholy, it might
+seem strange to say that my Aunt Mary was always happy. Yet she was so.
+Her spirits never rose to buoyancy, and never sunk to despondency. I
+know that it is an article in the sentimental confession of faith that
+such a character cannot be interesting. For this impression there is
+some ground. The placidity of a medium commonplace mind is
+uninteresting, but the placidity of a strong and well-governed one
+borders on the sublime. Mutability of emotion characterizes inferior
+orders of being; but He who combines all interest, all excitement, all
+perfection, is "the same yesterday, to-day, and forever." And if there
+be any thing sublime in the idea of an almighty mind, in perfect peace
+itself, and, therefore, at leisure to bestow all its energies on the
+wants of others, there is at least a reflection of the same sublimity in
+the character of that human being who has so quieted and governed the
+world within, that nothing is left to absorb sympathy or distract
+attention from those around.
+
+Such a woman was my Aunt Mary. Her placidity was not so much the result
+of temperament as of choice. She had every susceptibility of suffering
+incident to the noblest and most delicate construction of mind; but they
+had been so directed, that, instead of concentrating thought on self,
+they had prepared her to understand and feel for others.
+
+She was, beyond all things else, a sympathetic person, and her
+character, like the green in a landscape, was less remarkable for what
+it was in itself than for its perfect and beautiful harmony with all the
+coloring and shading around it.
+
+Other women have had talents, others have been good; but no woman that
+ever I knew possessed goodness and talent in union with such an
+intuitive perception of feelings, and such a faculty of instantaneous
+adaptation to them. The most troublesome thing in this world is to be
+condemned to the society of a person who can never understand any thing
+you say unless you say the whole of it, making your commas and periods
+as you go along; and the most desirable thing in the world is to live
+with a person who saves you all the trouble of talking, by knowing just
+what you mean before you begin to speak.
+
+Something of this kind of talent I began to feel, to my great relief,
+when Aunt Mary came into the family. I remember the very first evening,
+as she sat by the hearth, surrounded by all the family, her eye glanced
+on me with an expression that let me know she _saw_ me; and when the
+clock struck eight, and my mother proclaimed that it was my bedtime, my
+countenance fell as I moved sorrowfully from the back of her rocking
+chair, and thought how many beautiful stories Aunt Mary would tell after
+I was gone to bed. She turned towards me with such a look of real
+understanding, such an evident insight into the case, that I went into
+banishment with a lighter heart than ever I did before. How very
+contrary is the obstinate estimate of the heart to the rational estimate
+of worldly wisdom! Are there not some who can remember when one word,
+one look, or even the withholding of a word, has drawn their heart more
+to a person than all the substantial favors in the world? By ordinary
+acceptation, substantial kindness respects the necessaries of animal
+existence; while those wants which are peculiar to mind, and will exist
+with it forever, by equally correct classification, are designated as
+sentimental ones, the supply of which, though it will excite more
+gratitude in fact, ought not to in theory. Before Aunt Mary had lived
+with us a month, I loved her beyond any body in the world; and a
+utilitarian would have been amused in ciphering out the amount of favors
+which produced this result. It was a look--a word--a smile: it was that
+she seemed pleased with my new kite; that she rejoiced with me when I
+learned to spin a top; that she alone seemed to estimate my proficiency
+in playing ball and marbles; that she never looked at all vexed when I
+upset her workbox upon the floor; that she received all my awkward
+gallantry and _mal-adroit_ helpfulness as if it had been in the best
+taste in the world; that when she was sick, she insisted on letting me
+wait on her, though I made my customary havoc among the pitchers and
+tumblers of her room, and displayed, through my zeal to please, a more
+than ordinary share of insufficiency for the station. She also was the
+only person that ever I _conversed_ with, and I used to wonder how any
+body who could talk all about matters and things with grown-up persons
+could talk so sensibly about marbles, and hoops, and skates, and all
+sorts of little-boy matters; and I will say, by the by, that the same
+sort of speculation has often occurred to the minds of older people in
+connection with her. She knew the value of varied information in making
+a woman, not a pedant, but a sympathetic, companionable being; and such
+she was to almost every class of mind.
+
+She had, too, the faculty of drawing others up to her level in
+conversation, so that I would often find myself going on in most
+profound style while talking with her, and would wonder, when I was
+through, whether I was really a little boy still.
+
+When she had enlightened us many months, the time came for her to take
+leave, and she besought my mother to give me to her for company. All the
+family wondered what she could find to like in Henry; but if she did
+like me, it was no matter, and so was the case disposed of.
+
+From that time I _lived_ with her--and there are some persons who can
+make the word _live_ signify much more than it commonly does--and she
+wrought on my character all those miracles which benevolent genius can
+work. She quieted my heart, directed my feelings, unfolded my mind, and
+educated me, not harshly or by force, but as the blessed sunshine
+educates the flower, into full and perfect life; and when all that was
+mortal of her died to this world, her words and deeds of unutterable
+love shed a twilight around her memory that will fade only in the
+brightness of heaven.
+
+
+
+
+FRANKNESS.
+
+
+There is one kind of frankness, which is the result of perfect
+unsuspiciousness, and which requires a measure of ignorance of the world
+and of life: this kind appeals to our generosity and tenderness. There
+is another, which is the frankness of a strong but pure mind, acquainted
+with life, clear in its discrimination and upright in its intention, yet
+above disguise or concealment: this kind excites respect. The first
+seems to proceed simply from impulse, the second from impulse and
+reflection united; the first proceeds, in a measure, from ignorance, the
+second from knowledge; the first is born from an undoubting confidence
+in others, the second from a virtuous and well-grounded reliance on
+one's self.
+
+Now, if you suppose that this is the beginning of a sermon or of a
+fourth of July oration, you are very much mistaken, though, I must
+confess, it hath rather an uncertain sound. I merely prefaced it to a
+little sketch of character, which you may look at if you please, though
+I am not sure you will like it.
+
+It was said of Alice H. that she had the mind of a man, the heart of a
+woman, and the face of an angel--a combination that all my readers will
+think peculiarly happy.
+
+There never was a woman who was so unlike the mass of society in her
+modes of thinking and acting, yet so generally popular. But the most
+remarkable thing about her was her proud superiority to all disguise, in
+thought, word, and deed. She pleased you; for she spoke out a hundred
+things that you would conceal, and spoke them with a dignified assurance
+that made you wonder that you had ever hesitated to say them yourself.
+Nor did this unreserve appear like the weakness of one who could not
+conceal, or like a determination to make war on the forms of society. It
+was rather a calm, well-guided integrity, regulated by a just sense of
+propriety; knowing when to be silent, but speaking the truth when it
+spoke at all.
+
+Her extraordinary frankness often beguiled superficial observers into
+supposing themselves fully acquainted with her long before they were so,
+as the beautiful transparency of some lakes is said to deceive the eye
+as to their depth; yet the longer you knew her, the more variety and
+compass of character appeared through the same transparent medium. But
+you may just visit Miss Alice for half an hour to-night, and judge for
+yourselves. You may walk into this little parlor. There sits Miss Alice
+on that sofa, sewing a pair of lace sleeves into a satin dress, in which
+peculiarly angelic employment she may persevere till we have finished
+another sketch.
+
+Do you see that pretty little lady, with sparkling eyes, elastic form,
+and beautiful hand and foot, sitting opposite to her? She is a belle:
+the character is written in her face--it sparkles from her eye--it
+dimples in her smile, and pervades the whole woman.
+
+But there--Alice has risen, and is gone to the mirror, and is arranging
+the finest auburn hair in the world in the most tasteful manner. The
+little lady watches every motion as comically as a kitten watches a
+pin-ball.
+
+"It is all in vain to deny it, Alice--you are really anxious to _look
+pretty_ this evening," said she.
+
+"I certainly am," said Alice, quietly.
+
+"Ay, and you hope you shall please Mr. A. and Mr. B.," said the little
+accusing angel.
+
+"Certainly I do," said Alice, as she twisted her fingers in a beautiful
+curl.
+
+"Well, I would not tell of it, Alice, if I did."
+
+"Then you should not ask me," said Alice.
+
+"I _declare_! Alice!"
+
+"And what do you declare?"
+
+"I never saw such a girl as you are!"
+
+"Very likely," said Alice, stooping to pick up a pin.
+
+"Well, for _my_ part," said the little lady, "I never would take any
+pains to make any body like me--_particularly_ a gentleman."
+
+"I would," said Alice, "if they would not like me without."
+
+"Why, Alice! I should not think you were so fond of admiration."
+
+"I like to be admired very much," said Alice, returning to the sofa,
+"and I suppose every body else does."
+
+"_I_ don't care about admiration," said the little lady. "I would be as
+well satisfied that people shouldn't like me as that they should."
+
+"Then, cousin, I think it's a pity we all like you so well," said Alice,
+with a good-humored smile. If Miss Alice had penetration, she never made
+a severe use of it.
+
+"But really, cousin," said the little lady, "I should not think such a
+girl as you would think any thing about dress, or admiration, and all
+that."
+
+"I don't know what sort of a girl you think I am," said Alice, "but, for
+my own part, _I_ only pretend to be a common human being, and am not
+ashamed of common human feelings. If God has made us so that we love
+admiration, why should we not honestly say so. _I_ love it--_you_ love
+it--every body loves it; and why should not every body say it?"
+
+"Why, yes," said the little lady, "I suppose every body has a--has a--a
+general love for admiration. I am willing to acknowledge that _I_ have;
+but----"
+
+"But you have no love for it in particular," said Alice, "I suppose you
+mean to say; that is just the way the matter is commonly disposed of.
+Every body is willing to acknowledge a general wish for the good opinion
+of others, but half the world are ashamed to own it when it comes to a
+particular case. Now I have made up my mind, that if it is correct in
+general, it is correct in particular; and I mean to own it both ways."
+
+"But, somehow, it seems mean," said the little lady.
+
+"It is mean to live for it, to be selfishly engrossed in it, but not
+mean to enjoy it when it comes, or even to seek it, if we neglect no
+higher interest in doing so. All that God made us to feel is dignified
+and pure, unless we pervert it."
+
+"But, Alice, I never heard any person speak out so frankly as you do."
+
+"Almost all that is innocent and natural may be spoken out; and as for
+that which is not innocent and natural, it ought not even to be
+thought."
+
+"But _can_ every thing be spoken that may be thought?" said the lady.
+
+"No; we have an instinct which teaches us to be silent sometimes: but,
+if we speak at all, let it be in simplicity and sincerity."
+
+"Now, for instance, Alice," said the lady, "it is very innocent and
+natural, as you say, to think this, that, and the other nice thing of
+yourself, especially when every body is telling you of it; now would you
+speak the truth if any one asked you on this point?"
+
+"If it were a person who had a right to ask, and if it were a proper
+time and place, I would," said Alice.
+
+"Well, then," said the bright lady, "I ask you, Alice, in this very
+proper time and place, do you think that you are handsome?"
+
+"Now, I suppose you expect me to make a courtesy to every chair in the
+room before I answer," said Alice; "but, dispensing with that ceremony,
+I will tell you fairly, I think I am."
+
+"Do you think that you are good?"
+
+"Not entirely," said Alice.
+
+"Well, but don't you think you are better than most people?"
+
+"As far as I can tell, I think I am better than some people; but really,
+cousin, I don't trust my own judgment in this matter," said Alice.
+
+"Well, Alice, one more question. Do you think James Martyrs likes you or
+me best?"
+
+"I do not know," said Alice.
+
+"I did not ask you what you knew, but what you thought," said the lady;
+"you must have some thought about it."
+
+"Well, then, I think he likes me best," said Alice.
+
+Just then the door opened, and in walked the identical James Martyrs.
+Alice blushed, looked a little comical, and went on with her sewing,
+while the little lady began,--
+
+"Really, Mr. James, I wish you had come a minute sooner, to hear Alice's
+confessions."
+
+"What has she confessed?" said James.
+
+"Why, that she is handsomer and better than most folks."
+
+"That's nothing to be ashamed of," said James.
+
+"O, that's not all; she wants to look pretty, and loves to be admired,
+and all----"
+
+"It sounds very much like her," said James, looking at Alice.
+
+"O, but, besides that," said the lady, "she has been preaching a
+discourse in justification of vanity and self-love----"
+
+"And next time you shall take notes when I preach," said Alice, "for I
+don't think your memory is remarkably happy."
+
+"You see, James," said the lady, "that Alice makes it a point to say
+exactly the truth when she speaks at all, and I've been puzzling her
+with questions. I really wish you would ask her some, and see what she
+will say. But, mercy! there is Uncle C. come to take me to ride. I must
+run." And off flew the little humming bird, leaving James and Alice
+_tete-a-tete_.
+
+"There really is one question----" said James, clearing his voice.
+
+Alice looked up.
+
+"There is one question, Alice, which I wish you _would_ answer."
+
+Alice did not inquire what the question was, but began to look very
+solemn; and just then the door was shut--and so I never knew what the
+question was--only I observed that James Martyrs seemed in some seventh
+heaven for a week afterwards, and--and--you can finish for yourself,
+lady.
+
+
+
+
+THE SABBATH.
+
+SKETCHES FROM A NOTE BOOK OF AN ELDERLY GENTLEMAN.
+
+
+The Puritan Sabbath--is there such a thing existing now, or has it gone
+with the things that were, to be looked at as a curiosity in the museum
+of the past? Can any one, in memory, take himself back to the unbroken
+stillness of that day, and recall the sense of religious awe which
+seemed to brood in the very atmosphere, checking the merry laugh of
+childhood, and chaining in unwonted stillness the tongue of volatile
+youth, and imparting even to the sunshine of heaven, and the unconscious
+notes of animals, a tone of its own gravity and repose? If you cannot
+remember these things, go back with me to the verge of early boyhood,
+and live with me one of the Sabbaths that I have spent beneath the roof
+of my uncle, Phineas Fletcher.
+
+Imagine the long sunny hours of a Saturday afternoon insensibly slipping
+away, as we youngsters are exploring the length and breadth of a trout
+stream, or chasing gray squirrels, or building mud milldams in the
+brook. The sun sinks lower and lower, but we still think it does not
+want half an hour to sundown. At last, he so evidently is really _going
+down_, that there is no room for scepticism or latitude of opinion on
+the subject; and with many a lingering regret, we began to put away our
+fish-hooks, and hang our hoops over our arm, preparatory to trudging
+homeward.
+
+"O Henry, don't you wish that Saturday afternoons lasted longer?" said
+little John to me.
+
+"I do," says Cousin Bill, who was never the boy to mince matters in
+giving his sentiments; "and I wouldn't care if Sunday didn't come but
+once a year."
+
+"O Bill, that's wicked, I'm afraid," says little conscientious Susan,
+who, with her doll in hand, was coming home from a Saturday afternoon
+visit.
+
+"Can't help it," says Bill, catching Susan's bag, and tossing it in the
+air; "I never did like to sit still, and that's why I hate Sundays."
+
+"Hate Sundays! O Bill! Why, Aunt Kezzy says heaven is an _eternal_
+Sabbath--only think of that!"
+
+"Well, I know I must be pretty different from what I am now before I
+could sit still forever," said Bill, in a lower and somewhat
+disconcerted tone, as if admitting the force of the consideration.
+
+The rest of us began to look very grave, and to think that we must get
+to liking Sunday some time or other, or it would be a very bad thing for
+us. As we drew near the dwelling, the compact and business-like form of
+Aunt Kezzy was seen emerging from the house to hasten our approach.
+
+"How often have I told you, young ones, not to stay out after sundown on
+Saturday night? Don't you know it's the same as Sunday, you wicked
+children, you? Come right into the house, every one of you, and never
+let me hear of such a thing again."
+
+This was Aunt Kezzy's regular exordium every Saturday night; for we
+children, being blinded, as she supposed, by natural depravity, always
+made strange mistakes in reckoning time on Saturday afternoons. After
+being duly suppered and scrubbed, we were enjoined to go to bed, and
+remember that to-morrow was Sunday, and that we must not laugh and play
+in the morning. With many a sorrowful look did Susan deposit her doll in
+the chest, and give one lingering glance at the patchwork she was
+piecing for dolly's bed, while William, John, and myself emptied our
+pockets of all superfluous fish-hooks, bits of twine, popguns, slices of
+potato, marbles, and all the various items of boy property, which, to
+keep us from temptation, were taken into Aunt Kezzy's safe keeping over
+Sunday.
+
+My Uncle Phineas was a man of great exactness, and Sunday was the centre
+of his whole worldly and religious system. Every thing with regard to
+his worldly business was so arranged that by Saturday noon it seemed to
+come to a close of itself. All his accounts were looked over, his
+work-men paid, all borrowed things returned, and lent things sent after,
+and every tool and article belonging to the farm was returned to its own
+place at exactly such an hour every Saturday afternoon, and an hour
+before sundown every item of preparation, even to the blacking of his
+Sunday shoes and the brushing of his Sunday coat, was entirely
+concluded; and at the going down of the sun, the stillness of the
+Sabbath seemed to settle down over the whole dwelling.
+
+And now it is Sunday morning; and though all without is fragrance, and
+motion, and beauty, the dewdrops are twinkling, butterflies fluttering,
+and merry birds carolling and racketing as if they never could sing loud
+or fast enough, yet within there is such a stillness that the tick of
+the tall mahogany clock is audible through the whole house, and the buzz
+of the blue flies, as they whiz along up and down the window panes, is a
+distinct item of hearing. Look into the best front room, and you may see
+the upright form of my Uncle Phineas, in his immaculate Sunday clothes,
+with his Bible spread open on the little stand before him, and even a
+deeper than usual gravity settling down over his toil-worn features.
+Alongside, in well-brushed Sunday clothes, with clean faces and smooth
+hair, sat the whole of us younger people, each drawn up in a chair, with
+hat and handkerchief, ready for the first stroke of the bell, while Aunt
+Kezzy, all trimmed, and primmed, and made ready for meeting, sat reading
+her psalm book, only looking up occasionally to give an additional jerk
+to some shirt collar, or the fifteenth pull to Susan's frock, or to
+repress any straggling looks that might be wandering about, "beholding
+vanity."
+
+A stranger, in glancing at Uncle Phineas as he sat intent on his Sunday
+reading, might have seen that the Sabbath was _in his heart_--there was
+no mistake about it. It was plain that he had put by all worldly
+thoughts when he shut up his account book, and that his mind was as free
+from every earthly association as his Sunday coat was from dust. The
+slave of worldliness, who is driven, by perplexing business or
+adventurous speculation, through the hours of a half-kept Sabbath to the
+fatigues of another week, might envy the unbroken quiet, the sunny
+tranquillity, which hallowed the weekly rest of my uncle.
+
+The Sabbath of the Puritan Christian was the golden day, and all its
+associations, and all its thoughts, words, and deeds, were so entirely
+distinct from the ordinary material of life, that it was to him a sort
+of weekly translation--a quitting of this world to sojourn a day in a
+better; and year after year, as each Sabbath set its seal on the
+completed labors of a week, the pilgrim felt that one more stage of his
+earthly journey was completed, and that he was one week nearer to his
+eternal rest. And as years, with their changes, came on, and the strong
+man grew old, and missed, one after another, familiar forms that had
+risen around his earlier years, the face of the Sabbath became like that
+of an old and tried friend, carrying him back to the scenes of his
+youth, and connecting him with scenes long gone by, restoring to him the
+dew and freshness of brighter and more buoyant days.
+
+Viewed simply as an institution for a Christian and mature mind, nothing
+could be more perfect than the Puritan Sabbath: if it had any failing,
+it was in the want of adaptation to children, and to those not
+interested in its peculiar duties. If you had been in the dwelling of my
+uncle of a Sabbath morning, you must have found the unbroken stillness
+delightful; the calm and quiet must have soothed and disposed you for
+contemplation, and the evident appearance of single-hearted devotion to
+the duties of the day in the elder part of the family must have been a
+striking addition to the picture. But, then, if your eye had watched
+attentively the motions of us juveniles, you might have seen that what
+was so very invigorating to the disciplined Christian was a weariness to
+young flesh and bones. Then there was not, as now, the intellectual
+relaxation afforded by the Sunday school, with its various forms of
+religious exercise, its thousand modes of interesting and useful
+information. Our whole stock in this line was the Bible and Primer, and
+these were our main dependence for whiling away the tedious hours
+between our early breakfast and the signal for meeting. How often was
+our invention stretched to find wherewithal to keep up our stock of
+excitement in a line with the duties of the day! For the first half
+hour, perhaps, a story in the Bible answered our purpose very well; but,
+having despatched the history of Joseph, or the story of the ten
+plagues, we then took to the Primer: and then there was, first, the
+looking over the system of theological and ethical teaching, commencing,
+"In Adam's fall we sinned all," and extending through three or four
+pages of pictorial and poetic embellishment. Next was the death of John
+Rogers, who was burned at Smithfield; and for a while we could entertain
+ourselves with counting all his "nine children and one at the breast,"
+as in the picture they stand in a regular row, like a pair of stairs.
+These being done, came miscellaneous exercises of our own invention,
+such as counting all the psalms in the psalm book, backward and forward,
+to and from the Doxology, or numbering the books in the Bible, or some
+other such device as we deemed within the pale of religious employments.
+When all these failed, and it still wanted an hour of meeting time, we
+looked up at the ceiling, and down at the floor, and all around into
+every corner, to see what we could do next; and happy was he who could
+spy a pin gleaming in some distant crack, and forthwith muster an
+occasion for getting down to pick it up. Then there was the infallible
+recollection that we wanted a drink of water, as an excuse to get out to
+the well; or else we heard some strange noise among the chickens, and
+insisted that it was essential that we should see what was the matter;
+or else pussy would jump on to the table, when all of us would spring to
+drive her down; while there was a most assiduous watching of the clock
+to see when the first bell would ring. Happy was it for us, in the
+interim, if we did not begin to look at each other and make up faces, or
+slyly slip off and on our shoes, or some other incipient attempts at
+roguery, which would gradually so undermine our gravity that there would
+be some sudden explosion of merriment, whereat Uncle Phineas would look
+up and say, "_Tut, tut_," and Aunt Kezzy would make a speech about
+wicked children breaking the Sabbath day. I remember once how my cousin
+Bill got into deep disgrace one Sunday by a roguish trick. He was just
+about to close his Bible with all sobriety, when snap came a grasshopper
+through an open window, and alighted in the middle of the page. Bill
+instantly kidnapped the intruder, for so important an auxiliary in the
+way of employment was not to be despised. Presently we children looked
+towards Bill, and there he sat, very demurely reading his Bible, with
+the grasshopper hanging by one leg from the corner of his mouth, kicking
+and sprawling, without in the least disturbing Master William's gravity.
+We all burst into an uproarious laugh. But it came to be rather a
+serious affair for Bill, as his good father was in the practice of
+enforcing truth and duty by certain modes of moral suasion much
+recommended by Solomon, though fallen into disrepute at the present day.
+
+This morning picture may give a good specimen of the whole livelong
+Sunday, which presented only an alternation of similar scenes until
+sunset, when a universal unchaining of tongues and a general scamper
+proclaimed that the "sun was down."
+
+But, it may be asked, what was the result of all this strictness? Did it
+not disgust you with the Sabbath and with religion? No, it did not. It
+did not, because it was the result of _no unkindly feeling_, but of
+_consistent principle_; and consistency of principle is what even
+children learn to appreciate and revere. The law of obedience and of
+reverence for the Sabbath was constraining so equally on the young and
+the old, that its claims came to be regarded like those immutable laws
+of nature, which no one thinks of being out of patience with, though
+they sometimes bear hard on personal convenience. The effect of the
+system was to ingrain into our character a veneration for the Sabbath
+which no friction of after life would ever efface. I have lived to
+wander in many climates and foreign lands, where the Sabbath is an
+unknown name, or where it is only recognized by noisy mirth; but never
+has the day returned without bringing with it a breathing of religious
+awe, and even a yearning for the unbroken stillness, the placid repose,
+and the simple devotion of the Puritan Sabbath.
+
+
+ANOTHER SCENE.
+
+"How late we are this morning!" said Mrs. Roberts to her husband,
+glancing hurriedly at the clock, as they were sitting down to breakfast
+on a Sabbath morning. "Really, it is a shame to us to be so late
+Sundays. I wonder John and Henry are not up yet; Hannah, did you speak
+to them?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am, but I could not make them mind; they said it was Sunday,
+and that we always have breakfast later Sundays."
+
+"Well, it is a shame to us, I must say," said Mrs. Roberts, sitting down
+to the table. "I never lie late myself unless something in particular
+happens. Last night I was out very late, and Sabbath before last I had a
+bad headache."
+
+"Well, well, my dear," said Mr. Roberts, "it is not worth while to worry
+yourself about it; Sunday is a day of rest; every body indulges a little
+of a Sunday morning, it is so very natural, you know; one's work done
+up, one feels like taking a little rest."
+
+"Well, I must say it was not the way my mother brought me up," said Mrs.
+Roberts; "and I really can't feel it to be right."
+
+This last part of the discourse had been listened to by two
+sleepy-looking boys, who had, meanwhile, taken their seats at table with
+that listless air which is the result of late sleeping.
+
+"O, by the by, my dear, what did you give for those hams Saturday?" said
+Mr. Roberts.
+
+"Eleven cents a pound, I believe," replied Mrs. Roberts; "but Stephens
+and Philips have some much nicer, canvas and all, for ten cents. I think
+we had better get our things at Stephens and Philips's in future, my
+dear."
+
+"Why? are they much cheaper?"
+
+"O, a great deal; but I forget it is Sunday. We ought to be thinking of
+other things. Boys, have you looked over your Sunday school lesson?"
+
+"No, ma'am."
+
+"Now, how strange! and here it wants only half an hour of the time, and
+you are not dressed either. Now, see the bad effects of not being up in
+time."
+
+The boys looked sullen, and said "they were up as soon as any one else
+in the house."
+
+"Well, your father and I had some excuse, because we were out late last
+night; you ought to have been up full three hours ago, and to have been
+all ready, with your lessons learned. Now, what do you suppose you shall
+do?"
+
+"O mother, do let us stay at home this one morning; we don't know the
+lesson, and it won't do any good for us to go."
+
+"No, indeed, I shall not. You must go and get along as well as you can.
+It is all your own fault. Now, go up stairs and hurry. We shall not find
+time for prayers this morning."
+
+The boys took themselves up stairs to "hurry," as directed, and soon one
+of them called from the top of the stairs, "Mother! mother! the buttons
+are off this vest; so I can't wear it!" and "Mother! here is a long rip
+in my best coat!" said another.
+
+"Why did you not tell me of it before?" said Mrs. Roberts, coming up
+stairs.
+
+"I forgot it," said the boy.
+
+"Well, well, stand still; I must catch it together somehow, if it is
+Sunday. There! there is the bell! Stand still a minute!" and Mrs.
+Roberts plied needle, and thread, and scissors; "there, that will do for
+to-day. Dear me, how confused every thing is to-day!"
+
+"It is always just so Sundays," said John, flinging up his book and
+catching it again as he ran down stairs.
+
+"It is always just so Sundays." These words struck rather unpleasantly
+on Mrs. Roberts's conscience, for something told her that, whatever the
+reason might be, it _was_ just so. On Sunday every thing was later and
+more irregular than any other day in the week.
+
+"Hannah, you must boil that piece of beef for dinner to-day."
+
+"I thought you told me you did not have cooking done on Sunday."
+
+"No, I do not, generally. I am very sorry Mr. Roberts would get that
+piece of meat yesterday. We did not need it; but here it is on our
+hands; the weather is too hot to keep it. It won't do to let it spoil;
+so I must have it boiled, for aught I see."
+
+Hannah had lived four Sabbaths with Mrs. Roberts, and on two of them she
+had been required to cook from similar reasoning. "_For once_" is apt,
+in such cases, to become a phrase of very extensive signification.
+
+"It really worries me to have things go on so as they do on Sundays,"
+said Mrs. Roberts to her husband. "I never do feel as if we kept Sunday
+as we ought."
+
+"My dear, you have been saying so ever since we were married, and I do
+not see what you are going to do about it. For my part I do not see why
+we do not do as well as people in general. We do not visit, nor receive
+company, nor read improper books. We go to church, and send the children
+to Sunday school, and so the greater part of the day is spent in a
+religious way. Then out of church we have the children's Sunday school
+books, and one or two religious newspapers. I think that is quite
+enough."
+
+"But, somehow, when I was a child, my mother----" said Mrs. Roberts,
+hesitating.
+
+"O my dear, your mother must not be considered an exact pattern for
+these days. People were too strict in your mother's time; they carried
+the thing too far, altogether; every body allows it now."
+
+Mrs. Roberts was silenced, but not satisfied. A strict religious
+education had left just conscience enough on this subject to make her
+uneasy.
+
+These worthy people had a sort of general idea that Sunday ought to be
+kept, and they intended to keep it; but they had never taken the trouble
+to investigate or inquire as to the most proper way, nor was it so much
+an object of interest that their weekly arrangements were planned with
+any reference to it. Mr. Roberts would often engage in business at the
+close of the week, which he knew would so fatigue him that he would be
+weary and listless on Sunday; and Mrs. Roberts would allow her family
+cares to accumulate in the same way, so that she was either wearied with
+efforts to accomplish it before the Sabbath, or perplexed and worried by
+finding every thing at loose ends on that day. They had the idea that
+Sunday was to be kept when it was perfectly convenient, and did not
+demand any sacrifice of time or money. But if stopping to keep the
+Sabbath in a journey would risk passage money or a seat in the stage,
+or, in housekeeping, if it would involve any considerable inconvenience
+or expense, it was deemed a providential intimation that it was "a work
+of necessity and mercy" to attend to secular matters. To their minds the
+fourth command read thus: "Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy when
+it comes convenient, and costs neither time nor money."
+
+As to the effects of this on the children, there was neither enough of
+strictness to make them respect the Sabbath, nor of religions interest
+to make them love it; of course, the little restraint there was proved
+just enough to lead them to dislike and despise it. Children soon
+perceive the course of their parents' feelings, and it was evident
+enough to the children of this family that their father and mother
+generally found themselves hurried into the Sabbath with hearts and
+minds full of this world, and their conversation and thoughts were so
+constantly turning to worldly things, and so awkwardly drawn back by a
+sense of religious obligation, that the Sabbath appeared more obviously
+a clog and a fetter than it did under the strictest _regime_ of Puritan
+days.
+
+
+SKETCH SECOND.
+
+The little quiet village of Camden stands under the brow of a rugged
+hill in one of the most picturesque parts of New England; and its
+regular, honest, and industrious villagers were not a little surprised
+and pleased that Mr. James, a rich man, and pleasant-spoken withal, had
+concluded to take up his residence among them. He brought with him a
+pretty, genteel wife, and a group of rosy, romping, but amiable
+children; and there was so much of good nature and kindness about the
+manners of every member of the family, that the whole neighborhood were
+prepossessed in their favor. Mr. James was a man of somewhat visionary
+and theoretical turn of mind, and very much in the habit of following
+out his own ideas of right and wrong, without troubling himself
+particularly as to the appearance his course might make in the eyes of
+others. He was a supporter of the ordinances of religion, and always
+ready to give both time and money to promote any benevolent object; and
+though he had never made any public profession of religion, nor
+connected himself with any particular set of Christians, still he seemed
+to possess great reverence for God, and to worship him in spirit and in
+truth, and he professed to make the Bible the guide of his life. Mr.
+James had been brought up under a system of injudicious religious
+restraint. He had determined, in educating his children, to adopt an
+exactly opposite course, and to make religion and all its institutions
+sources of enjoyment. His aim, doubtless, was an appropriate one; but
+his method of carrying it out, to say the least, was one which was not a
+safe model for general imitation. In regard to the Sabbath, for example,
+he considered that, although the plan of going to church twice a day,
+and keeping all the family quiet within doors the rest of the time, was
+good, other methods would be much better. Accordingly, after the morning
+service, which he and his whole family regularly attended, he would
+spend the rest of the day with his children. In bad weather he would
+instruct them in natural history, show them pictures, and read them
+various accounts of the works of God, combining all with such religious
+instruction and influence as a devotional mind might furnish. When the
+weather permitted, he would range with them through the fields,
+collecting minerals and plants, or sail with them on the lake, meanwhile
+directing the thoughts of his young listeners upward to God, by the many
+beautiful traces of his presence and agency, which superior knowledge
+and observation enabled him to discover and point out. These Sunday
+strolls were seasons of most delightful enjoyment to the children.
+Though it was with some difficulty that their father could restrain them
+from loud and noisy demonstrations of delight, and he saw with some
+regret that the mere animal excitement of the stroll seemed to draw the
+attention too much from religious considerations, and, in particular, to
+make the exercises of the morning seem like a preparatory penance to the
+enjoyments of the afternoon, nevertheless, when Mr. James looked back to
+his own boyhood, and remembered the frigid restraint, the entire want of
+any kind of mental or bodily excitement, which had made the Sabbath so
+much a weariness to him, he could not but congratulate himself when he
+perceived his children looking forward to Sunday as a day of delight,
+and found himself on that day continually surrounded by a circle of
+smiling and cheerful faces. His talent of imparting religious
+instruction in a simple and interesting form was remarkably happy, and
+it is probable that there was among his children an uncommon degree of
+real thought and feeling on religious subjects as the result.
+
+The good people of Camden, however, knew not what to think of a course
+that appeared to them an entire violation of all the requirements of the
+Sabbath. The first impulse of human nature is to condemn at once all who
+vary from what has been commonly regarded as the right way; and,
+accordingly, Mr. James was unsparingly denounced, by many good people,
+as a Sabbath breaker, an infidel, and an opposer to religion.
+
+Such was the character heard of him by Mr. Richards, a young clergyman,
+who, shortly after Mr. James fixed his residence in Camden, accepted the
+pastoral charge of the village. It happened that Mr. Richards had known
+Mr. James in college, and, remembering him as a remarkably serious,
+amiable, and conscientious man, he resolved to ascertain from himself
+the views which had led him to the course of conduct so offensive to the
+good people of the neighborhood.
+
+"This is all very well, my good friend," said he, after he had listened
+to Mr. James's eloquent account of his own system of religious
+instruction, and its effects upon his family; "I do not doubt that this
+system does very well for yourself and family; but there are other
+things to be taken into consideration besides personal and family
+improvement. Do you not know, Mr. James, that the most worthless and
+careless part of my congregation quote your example as a respectable
+precedent for allowing their families to violate the order of the
+Sabbath? You and your children sail about on the lake, with minds and
+hearts, I doubt not, elevated and tranquillized by its quiet repose; but
+Ben Dakes, and his idle, profane army of children, consider themselves
+as doing very much the same thing when they lie lolling about, sunning
+themselves on its shore, or skipping stones over its surface the whole
+of a Sunday afternoon."
+
+"Let every one answer to his own conscience," replied Mr. James. "If I
+keep the Sabbath conscientiously, I am approved of God; if another
+transgresses his conscience, 'to his own master he standeth or falleth.'
+I am not responsible for all the abuses that idle or evil-disposed
+persons may fall into, in consequence of my doing what is right."
+
+"Let me quote an answer from the same chapter," said Mr. Richards. "'Let
+no man put a stumbling block, or an occasion to fall, in his brother's
+way; let not your good be evil spoken of. It is good neither to eat
+flesh nor drink wine, _nor any thing whereby thy brother stumbleth, or
+is offended, or made weak_.' Now, my good friend, you happen to be
+endowed with a certain tone of mind which enables you to carry through
+your mode of keeping the Sabbath with little comparative evil, and much
+good, so far as your family is concerned; but how many persons in this
+neighborhood, do you suppose, would succeed equally well if they were to
+attempt it? If it were the common custom for families to absent
+themselves from public worship in the afternoon, and to stroll about the
+fields, or ride, or sail, how many parents, do you suppose, would have
+the dexterity and talent to check all that was inconsistent with the
+duties of the day? Is it not your ready command of language, your
+uncommon tact in simplifying and illustrating, your knowledge of natural
+history and of biblical literature, that enable you to accomplish the
+results that you do? And is there one parent in a hundred that could do
+the same? Now, just imagine our neighbor, 'Squire Hart, with his ten
+boys and girls, turned out into the fields on a Sunday afternoon to
+profit withal: you know he can never finish a sentence without stopping
+to begin it again half a dozen times. What progress would he make in
+instructing them? And so of a dozen others I could name along this very
+street here. Now, you men of cultivated minds must give your countenance
+to courses which would be best for society at large, or, as the
+sentiment was expressed by St. Paul, 'We that are strong ought to bear
+the infirmities of the weak, _and not to please ourselves_, for even
+Christ _pleased not himself_.' Think, my dear sir, if our Savior had
+gone only on the principle of avoiding what might be injurious to his
+own improvement, how unsafe his example might have proved to less
+elevated minds. Doubtless he might have made a Sabbath day fishing
+excursion an occasion of much elevated and impressive instruction; but,
+although he declared himself 'Lord of the Sabbath day,' and at liberty
+to suspend its obligation at his own discretion, yet he never violated
+the received method of observing it, except in cases where superstitious
+tradition trenched directly on those interests which the Sabbath was
+given to promote. He asserted the right to relieve pressing bodily
+wants, and to administer to the necessities of others on the Sabbath,
+but beyond that he allowed himself in no deviation from established
+custom."
+
+Mr. James looked thoughtful. "I have not reflected on the subject in
+this view," he replied. "But, my dear sir, considering how little of the
+public services of the Sabbath is on a level with the capacity of
+younger children, it seems to me almost a pity to take them to church
+the whole of the day."
+
+"I have thought of that myself," replied Mr. Richards, "and have
+sometimes thought that, could persons be found to conduct such a thing,
+it would be desirable to institute a separate service for children, in
+which the exercises should be particularly adapted to them."
+
+"I should like to be minister to a congregation of children," said Mr.
+James, warmly.
+
+"Well," replied Mr. Richards, "give our good people time to get
+acquainted with you, and do away the prejudices which your extraordinary
+mode of proceeding has induced, and I think I could easily assemble such
+a company for you every Sabbath."
+
+After this, much to the surprise of the village, Mr. James and his
+family were regular attendants at both the services of the Sabbath. Mr.
+Richards explained to the good people of his congregation the motives
+which had led their neighbor to the adoption of what, to them, seemed so
+unchristian a course; and, upon reflection, they came to the perception
+of the truth, that a man may depart very widely from the received
+standard of right for other reasons than being an infidel or an opposer
+of religion. A ready return of cordial feeling was the result; and as
+Mr. James found himself treated with respect and confidence, he began to
+feel, notwithstanding his fastidiousness, that there were strong points
+of congeniality between all real and warm-hearted Christians, however
+different might be their intellectual culture, and in all simplicity
+united himself with the little church of Camden. A year from the time of
+his first residence there, every Sabbath afternoon saw him surrounded by
+a congregation of young children, for whose benefit he had, at his own
+expense, provided a room, fitted up with maps, scriptural pictures, and
+every convenience for the illustration of biblical knowledge; and the
+parents or guardians who from time to time attended their children
+during these exercises, often confessed themselves as much interested
+and benefited as any of their youthful companions.
+
+
+SKETCH THIRD.
+
+It was near the close of a pleasant Saturday afternoon that I drew up my
+weary horse in front of a neat little dwelling in the village of N.
+This, as near as I could gather from description, was the house of my
+cousin, William Fletcher, the identical rogue of a Bill Fletcher of whom
+we have aforetime spoken. Bill had always been a thriving, push-ahead
+sort of a character, and during the course of my rambling life I had
+improved every occasional opportunity of keeping up our early
+acquaintance. The last time that I returned to my native country, after
+some years of absence, I heard of him as married and settled in the
+village of N., where he was conducting a very prosperous course of
+business, and shortly after received a pressing invitation to visit him
+at his own home. Now, as I had gathered from experience the fact that it
+is of very little use to rap one's knuckles off on the front door of a
+country house without any knocker, I therefore made the best of my way
+along a little path, bordered with marigolds and balsams, that led to
+the back part of the dwelling. The sound of a number of childish voices
+made me stop, and, looking through the bushes, I saw the very image of
+my cousin Bill Fletcher, as he used to be twenty years ago; the same
+bold forehead, the same dark eyes, the same smart, saucy mouth, and the
+same "who-cares-for-that" toss to his head. "There, now," exclaimed the
+boy, setting down a pair of shoes that he had been blacking, and
+arranging them at the head of a long row of all sizes and sorts, from
+those which might have fitted a two year old foot upward, "there, I've
+blacked every single one of them, and made them shine too, and done it
+all in twenty minutes; if any body thinks they can do it quicker than
+that, I'd just like to have them try; that's all."
+
+"I know they couldn't, though," said a fair-haired little girl, who
+stood admiring the sight, evidently impressed with the utmost reverence
+for her brother's ability; "and, Bill, I've been putting up all the
+playthings in the big chest, and I want you to come and turn the
+lock--the key hurts my fingers."
+
+"Poh! I can turn it easier than that," said the boy, snapping his
+fingers; "have you got them all in?"
+
+"Yes, all; only I left out the soft bales, and the string of red beads,
+and the great rag baby for Fanny to play with--you know mother says
+babies must have their playthings Sunday."
+
+"O, to be sure," said the brother, very considerately; "babies can't
+read, you know, as we can, nor hear Bible stories, nor look at
+pictures." At this moment I stepped forward, for the spell of former
+times was so powerfully on me, that I was on the very point of springing
+forward with a "Halloo, there, Bill!" as I used to meet the father in
+old times; but the look of surprise that greeted my appearance brought
+me to myself.
+
+"Is your father at home?" said I.
+
+"Father and mother are both gone out; but I guess, sir, they will be
+home in a few moments: won't you walk in?"
+
+I accepted the invitation, and the little girl showed me into a small
+and very prettily furnished parlor. There was a piano with music books
+on one side of the room, some fine pictures hung about the walls, and a
+little, neat centre table was plentifully strewn with books. Besides
+this, the two recesses on each side of the fireplace contained each a
+bookcase with a glass locked door.
+
+The little girl offered me a chair, and then lingered a moment, as if
+she felt some disposition to entertain me if she could only think of
+something to say; and at last, looking up in my face, she said, in a
+confidential tone, "Mother says she left Willie and me to keep house
+this afternoon while she was gone, and we are putting up all the things
+for Sunday, so as to get every thing done before she comes home. Willie
+has gone to put away the playthings, and I'm going to put up the books."
+So saying, she opened the doors of one of the bookcases, and began
+busily carrying the books from the centre table to deposit them on the
+shelves, in which employment she was soon assisted by Willie, who took
+the matter in hand in a very masterly manner, showing his sister what
+were and what were not "Sunday books" with the air of a person entirely
+at home in the business. Robinson Crusoe and the many-volumed Peter
+Parley were put by without hesitation; there was, however, a short
+demurring over a North American Review, because Willie said he was sure
+his father read something one Sunday out of one of them, while Susan
+averred that he did not commonly read in it, and only read in it then
+because the piece was something about the Bible; but as nothing could be
+settled definitively on the point, the review was "laid on the table,"
+like knotty questions in Congress. Then followed a long discussion over
+an extract book, which, as usual, contained all sorts, both sacred,
+serious, comic, and profane; and at last Willie, with much gravity,
+decided to lock it up, on the principle that it was best to be on the
+_safe side_, in support of which he appealed to me. I was saved from
+deciding the question by the entrance of the father and mother. My old
+friend knew me at once, and presented his pretty wife to me with the
+same look of exultation with which he used to hold up a string of trout
+or an uncommonly fine perch of his own catching for my admiration, and
+then looking round on his fine family of children, two more of which he
+had brought home with him, seemed to say to me, "There! what do you
+think of that, now?"
+
+And, in truth, a very pretty sight it was--enough to make any one's old
+bachelor coat sit very uneasily on him. Indeed, there is nothing that
+gives one such a startling idea of the tricks that old Father Time has
+been playing on us, as to meet some boyish or girlish companions with
+half a dozen or so of thriving children about them. My old friend, I
+found, was in essence just what the boy had been. There was the same
+upright bearing, the same confident, cheerful tone to his voice, and the
+same fire in his eye; only that the hand of manhood had slightly touched
+some of the lines of his face, giving them a staidness of expression
+becoming the man and the father.
+
+"Very well, my children," said Mrs. Fletcher, as, after tea, William and
+Susan finished recounting to her the various matters that they had set
+in order that afternoon; "I believe now we can say that our week's work
+is finished, and that we have nothing to do but rest and enjoy
+ourselves."
+
+"O, and papa will show us the pictures in those great books that he
+brought home for us last Monday, will he not?" said little Robert.
+
+"And, mother, you will tell us some more about Solomon's temple and his
+palaces, won't you?" said Susan.
+
+"And I should like to know if father has found out the answer to that
+hard question I gave him last Sunday?" said Willie.
+
+"All will come in good time," said Mrs. Fletcher. "But tell me, my dear
+children, are you sure that you are quite ready for the Sabbath? You say
+you have put away the books and the playthings; have you put away, too,
+all wrong and unkind feelings? Do you feel kindly and pleasantly towards
+every body?"
+
+"Yes, mother," said Willie, who appeared to have taken a great part of
+this speech to himself; "I went over to Tom Walter's this very morning
+to ask him about that chicken of mine, and he said that he did not mean
+to hit it, and did not know he had till I told him of it; and so we made
+all up again, and I am glad I went."
+
+"I am inclined to think, Willie," said his father, "that if every body
+would make it a rule to settle up all their differences _before Sunday_,
+there would be very few long quarrels and lawsuits. In about half the
+cases, a quarrel is founded on some misunderstanding that would be got
+over in five minutes if one would go directly to the person for
+explanation."
+
+"I suppose I need not ask you," said Mrs. Fletcher, "whether you have
+fully learned your Sunday school lessons."
+
+"O, to be sure," said William. "You know, mother, that Susan and I were
+busy about them through Monday and Tuesday, and then this afternoon we
+looked them over again, and wrote down some questions."
+
+"And I heard Robert say his all through, and showed him all the places
+on the Bible Atlas," said Susan.
+
+"Well, then," said my friend, "if every thing is done, let us begin
+Sunday with some music."
+
+Thanks to the recent improvements in the musical instruction of the
+young, every family can now form a domestic concert, with words and
+tunes adapted to the capacity and the voices of children; and while
+these little ones, full of animation, pressed round their mother as she
+sat at the piano, and accompanied her music with the words of some
+beautiful hymns, I thought that, though I might have heard finer music,
+I had never listened to any that answered the purpose of music so well.
+
+It was a custom at my friend's to retire at an early hour on Saturday
+evening, in order that there might be abundant time for rest, and no
+excuse for late rising on the Sabbath; and, accordingly, when the
+children had done singing, after a short season of family devotion, we
+all betook ourselves to our chambers, and I, for one, fell asleep with
+the impression of having finished the week most agreeably, and with
+anticipations of very great pleasure on the morrow.
+
+Early in the morning I was roused from my sleep by the sound of little
+voices singing with great animation in the room next to mine, and,
+listening, I caught the following words:--
+
+    "Awake! awake! your bed forsake,
+      To God your praises pay;
+    The morning sun is clear and bright;
+    With joy we hail his cheerful light.
+          In songs of love
+          Praise God above--
+        It is the Sabbath day!"
+
+The last words were repeated and prolonged most vehemently by a voice
+that I knew for Master William's.
+
+"Now, Willie, I like the other one best," said the soft voice of little
+Susan; and immediately she began,--
+
+    "How sweet is the day,
+    When, leaving our play,
+      The Saviour we seek!
+    The fair morning glows
+    When Jesus arose--
+      The best in the week."
+
+Master William helped along with great spirit in the singing of this
+tune, though I heard him observing, at the end of the first verse, that
+he liked the other one better, because "it seemed to step off so kind o'
+lively;" and his accommodating sister followed him as he began singing
+it again with redoubled animation.
+
+It was a beautiful summer morning, and the voices of the children within
+accorded well with the notes of birds and bleating flocks without--a
+cheerful, yet Sabbath-like and quieting sound.
+
+"Blessed be children's music!" said I to myself; "how much better this
+is than the solitary tick, tick, of old Uncle Fletcher's tall mahogany
+clock!"
+
+The family bell summoned us to the breakfast room just as the children
+had finished their hymn. The little breakfast parlor had been swept and
+garnished expressly for the day, and a vase of beautiful flowers, which
+the children had the day before collected from their gardens, adorned
+the centre table. The door of one of the bookcases by the fireplace was
+thrown open, presenting to view a collection of prettily bound books,
+over the top of which appeared in gilt letters the inscription, "Sabbath
+Library." The windows were thrown open to let in the invigorating breath
+of the early morning, and the birds that flitted among the rosebushes
+without seemed scarcely lighter and more buoyant than did the children
+as they entered the room. It was legibly written on every face in the
+house, that the happiest day in the week had arrived, and each one
+seemed to enter into its duties with a whole soul. It was still early
+when the breakfast and the season of family devotion were over, and the
+children eagerly gathered round the table to get a sight of the pictures
+in the new books which their father had purchased in New York the week
+before, and which had been reserved as a Sunday's treat. They were a
+beautiful edition of Calmet's Dictionary, in several large volumes, with
+very superior engravings.
+
+"It seems to me that this work must be very expensive," I remarked to my
+friend, as we were turning the leaves.
+
+"Indeed it is so," he replied; "but here is one place where I am less
+withheld by considerations of expense than in any other. In all that
+concerns making a show in the world, I am perfectly ready to economize.
+I can do very well without expensive clothing or fashionable furniture,
+and am willing that we should be looked on as very plain sort of people
+in all such matters; but in all that relates to the cultivation of the
+mind, and the improvement of the hearts of my children, I am willing to
+go to the extent of my ability. Whatever will give my children a better
+knowledge of, or deeper interest in, the Bible, or enable them to spend
+a Sabbath profitably and without weariness, stands first on my list
+among things to be purchased. I have spent in this way one third as much
+as the furnishing of my house costs me." On looking over the shelves of
+the Sabbath library, I perceived that my friend had been at no small
+pains in the selection. It comprised all the popular standard works for
+the illustration of the Bible, together with the best of the modern
+religious publications adapted to the capacity of young children. Two
+large drawers below were filled with maps and scriptural engravings,
+some of them of a very superior character.
+
+"We have been collecting these things gradually ever since we have been
+at housekeeping," said my friend; "the children take an interest in this
+library, as something more particularly belonging to them, and some of
+the books are donations from their little earnings."
+
+"Yes," said Willie, "I bought Helen's Pilgrimage with my egg money, and
+Susan bought the Life of David, and little Robert is going to buy one,
+too, next new year."
+
+"But," said I, "would not the Sunday school library answer all the
+purpose of this?"
+
+"The Sabbath school library is an admirable thing," said my friend; "but
+this does more fully and perfectly what that was intended to do. It
+makes a sort of central attraction at home on the Sabbath, and makes the
+acquisition of religious knowledge and the proper observance of the
+Sabbath a sort of family enterprise. You know," he added, smiling, "that
+people always feel interested for an object in which they have invested
+money."
+
+The sound of the first Sabbath school bell put an end to this
+conversation. The children promptly made themselves ready, and as their
+father was the superintendent of the school, and their mother one of the
+teachers, it was quite a family party.
+
+One part of every Sabbath at my friend's was spent by one or both
+parents with the children, in a sort of review of the week. The
+attention of the little ones was directed to their own characters, the
+various defects or improvements of the past week were pointed out, and
+they were stimulated to be on their guard in the time to come, and the
+whole was closed by earnest prayer for such heavenly aid as the
+temptations and faults of each particular one might need. After church
+in the evening, while the children were thus withdrawn to their mother's
+apartment, I could not forbear reminding my friend of old times, and of
+the rather anti-sabbatical turn of his mind in our boyish days.
+
+"Now, William," said I, "do you know that you were the last boy of whom
+such an enterprise in Sabbath keeping as this was to have been expected?
+I suppose you remember Sunday at 'the old place'?"
+
+"Nay, now, I think I was the very one," said he, smiling, "for I had
+sense enough to see, as I grew up, that the day must be kept
+_thoroughly_ or not at all, and I had enough blood and motion in my
+composition to see that something must be done to enliven and make it
+interesting; so I set myself about it. It was one of the first of our
+housekeeping resolutions, that the Sabbath should be made a pleasant
+day, and yet be as inviolably kept as in the strictest times of our good
+father; and we have brought things to run in that channel so long, that
+it seems to be the natural order."
+
+"I have always supposed," said I, "that it required a peculiar talent,
+and more than common information in a parent, to accomplish this to any
+extent."
+
+"It requires nothing," replied my friend, "but common sense, and a
+strong _determination to do it_. Parents who make a definite object of
+the religious instruction of their children, if they have common sense,
+can very soon see what is necessary in order to interest them; and, if
+they find themselves wanting in the requisite information, they can, in
+these days, very readily acquire it. The sources of religious knowledge
+are so numerous, and so popular in their form, that all can avail
+themselves of them. The only difficulty, after all, is, that the keeping
+of the Sabbath and the imparting of religious instruction are not made
+enough of a _home_ object. Parents pass off the responsibility on to the
+Sunday school teacher, and suppose, of course, if they send their
+children to Sunday school, they do the best they can for them. Now, I am
+satisfied, from my experience as a Sabbath school teacher, that the best
+religious instruction imparted abroad still stands in need of the
+cooeperation of a systematic plan of religious discipline and instruction
+at home; for, after all, God gives a power to the efforts of a _parent_
+that can never be transferred to other hands."
+
+"But do you suppose," said I, "that the _common_ class of minds, with
+ordinary advantages, can do what you have done?"
+
+"I think in most cases they could, _if they begin_ right. But when both
+parents and children have formed _habits_, it is more difficult to
+change than to begin right at first. However, I think _all_ might
+accomplish a great deal if they would give time, money, and effort
+towards it. It is because the object is regarded of so little value,
+compared with other things of a worldly nature, that so little is done."
+
+My friend was here interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Fletcher with the
+children. Mrs. Fletcher sat down to the piano, and the Sabbath was
+closed with the happy songs of the little ones; nor could I notice a
+single anxious eye turning to the window to see if the sun was not
+almost down. The tender and softened expression of each countenance bore
+witness to the subduing power of those instructions which had hallowed
+the last hour, and their sweet, bird-like voices harmonized well with
+the beautiful words,--
+
+    "How sweet the light of Sabbath eve!
+    How soft the sunbeam lingering there!
+    Those holy hours this, low earth leave,
+    And rise on wings of faith and prayer."
+
+
+
+
+LET EVERY MAN MIND HIS OWN BUSINESS.
+
+
+"And so you will not sign this paper?" said Alfred Melton to his cousin,
+a fine-looking young man, who was lounging by the centre table.
+
+"Not I, indeed. What in life have I to do with these decidedly vulgar
+temperance pledges? Pshaw! they have a relish of whiskey in their very
+essence!"
+
+"Come, come, Cousin Melton," said a brilliant, dark-eyed girl, who had
+been lolling on the sofa during the conference, "I beg of you to give
+over attempting to evangelize Edward. You see, as Falstaff has it, 'he
+is little better than one of the wicked.' You must not waste such
+valuable temperance documents on him."
+
+"But, seriously, Melton, my good fellow," resumed Edward, "this signing,
+and sealing, and pledging is altogether an unnecessary affair for me. My
+past and present habits, my situation in life,--in short, every thing
+that can be mentioned with regard to me,--goes against the supposition
+of my ever becoming the slave of a vice so debasing; and this pledging
+myself to avoid it is something altogether needless--nay, by
+implication, it is degrading. As to what you say of my influence, I am
+inclined to the opinion, that if every man will look to himself, every
+man will be looked to. This modern notion of tacking the whole
+responsibility of society on to every individual is one I am not at all
+inclined to adopt; for, first, I know it is a troublesome doctrine; and,
+secondly, I doubt if it be a true one. For both which reasons, I shall
+decline extending to it my patronage."
+
+"Well, positively," exclaimed the lady, "you gentlemen have the gift of
+continuance in an uncommon degree. You have discussed this matter
+backward and forward till I am ready to perish. I will take the matter
+in hand myself, and sign a temperance pledge for Edward, and see that he
+gets into none of those naughty courses upon which you have been so
+pathetic."
+
+"I dare say," said Melton, glancing on her brilliant face with evident
+admiration, "that you will be the best temperance pledge he could have.
+But every man, cousin, may not be so fortunate."
+
+"But, Melton," said Edward, "seeing my steady habits are so well
+provided for, you must carry your logic and eloquence to some poor
+fellow less favored." And thus the conference ended.
+
+"What a good disinterested fellow Melton is!" said Edward, after he had
+left.
+
+"Yes, good, as the day is long," said Augusta, "but rather prosy, after
+all. This tiresome temperance business! One never hears the end of it
+nowadays. Temperance papers--temperance tracts--temperance
+hotels--temperance this, that, and the other thing, even down to
+temperance pocket handkerchiefs for little boys! Really, the world is
+getting intemperately temperate."
+
+"Ah, well! with the security you have offered, Augusta, I shall dread no
+temptation."
+
+Though there was nothing peculiar in these words, yet there was a
+certain earnestness of tone that called the color into the face of
+Augusta, and set her to sewing with uncommon assiduity. And thereupon
+Edward proceeded with some remark about "guardian angels," together with
+many other things of the kind, which, though they contain no more that
+is new than a temperance lecture, always seem to have a peculiar
+freshness to people in certain circumstances. In fact, before the hour
+was at an end, Edward and Augusta had forgotten where they began, and
+had wandered far into that land of anticipations and bright dreams which
+surrounds the young and loving before they eat of the tree of
+experience, and gain the fatal knowledge of good and evil.
+
+But here, stopping our sketching pencil, let us throw in a little
+background and perspective that will enable our readers to perceive more
+readily the entire picture.
+
+Edward Howard was a young man whose brilliant talents and captivating
+manners had placed him first in the society in which he moved. Though
+without property or weight of family connections, he had become a leader
+in the circles where these appendages are most considered, and there
+were none of their immunities and privileges that were not freely at his
+disposal.
+
+Augusta Elmore was conspicuous in all that lies within the sphere of
+feminine attainment. She was an orphan, and accustomed from a very early
+age to the free enjoyment and control of an independent property. This
+circumstance, doubtless, added to the magic of her personal graces in
+procuring for her that flattering deference which beauty and wealth
+secure.
+
+Her mental powers were naturally superior, although, from want of
+motive, they had received no development, except such as would secure
+success in society. Native good sense, with great strength of feeling
+and independence of mind, had saved her from becoming heartless and
+frivolous. She was better fitted to lead and to influence than to be
+influenced or led. And hence, though not swayed by any habitual sense of
+moral responsibility, the tone of her character seemed altogether more
+elevated than the average of fashionable society.
+
+General expectation had united the destiny of two persons who seemed
+every way fitted for each other, and for once general expectation did
+not err. A few months after the interview mentioned were witnessed the
+festivities and congratulations of their brilliant and happy marriage.
+
+Never did two young persons commence life under happier auspices. "What
+an exact match!" "What a beautiful couple!" said all the gossips. "They
+seem made for each other," said every one; and so thought the happy
+lovers themselves.
+
+Love, which with persons of strong character is always an earnest and
+sobering principle, had made them thoughtful and considerate; and as
+they looked forward to future life, and talked of the days before them,
+their plans and ideas were as rational as any plans can be, when formed
+entirely with reference to this life, without any regard to another.
+
+For a while their absorbing attachment to each other tended to withdraw
+them from the temptations and allurements of company; and many a long
+winter evening passed delightfully in the elegant quietude of home, as
+they read, and sang, and talked of the past, and dreamed of the future
+in each other's society. But, contradictory as it may appear to the
+theory of the sentimentalist, it is nevertheless a fact, that two
+persons cannot always find sufficient excitement in talking to each
+other merely; and this is especially true of those to whom high
+excitement has been a necessary of life. After a while, the young
+couple, though loving each other none the less, began to respond to the
+many calls which invited them again into society, and the pride they
+felt in each other added zest to the pleasures of their return.
+
+As the gaze of admiration followed the graceful motions of the beautiful
+wife, and the whispered tribute went round the circle whenever she
+entered, Edward felt a pride beyond all that flattery, addressed to
+himself, had ever excited; and Augusta, when told of the convivial
+talents and powers of entertainment which distinguished her husband,
+could not resist the temptation of urging him into society even oftener
+than his own wishes would have led him.
+
+Alas! neither of them knew the perils of constant excitement, nor
+supposed that, in thus alienating themselves from the pure and simple
+pleasures of home, they were risking their whole capital of happiness.
+It is in indulging the first desire for extra stimulus that the first
+and deepest danger to domestic peace lies. Let that stimulus be either
+bodily or mental, its effects are alike to be dreaded.
+
+The man or the woman to whom habitual excitement of any kind has become
+essential has taken the first step towards ruin. In the case of a woman,
+it leads to discontent, fretfulness, and dissatisfaction with the quiet
+duties of domestic life; in the case of a man, it leads almost
+invariably to animal stimulus, ruinous alike to the powers of body and
+mind.
+
+Augusta, fondly trusting to the virtue of her husband, saw no danger in
+the constant round of engagements which were gradually drawing his
+attention from the graver cares of business, from the pursuit of
+self-improvement, and from the love of herself. Already there was in her
+horizon the cloud "as big as a man's hand"--the precursor of future
+darkness and tempest; but, too confident and buoyant, she saw it not.
+
+It was not until the cares and duties of a mother began to confine her
+at home, that she first felt, with a startling sensation of fear, that
+there was an alteration in her husband, though even then the change was
+so shadowy and indefinite that it could not be defined by words.
+
+It was known by that quick, prophetic sense which reveals to the heart
+of woman the first variation in the pulse of affection, though it be so
+slight that no other touch can detect it.
+
+Edward was still fond, affectionate, admiring; and when he tendered her
+all the little attentions demanded by her situation, or caressed and
+praised his beautiful son, she felt satisfied and happy. But when she
+saw that, even without her, the convivial circle had its attractions,
+and that he could leave her to join it, she sighed, she scarce knew why.
+"Surely," she said, "I am not so selfish as to wish to rob him of
+pleasure because I cannot enjoy it with him. But yet, once he told me
+there was no pleasure where I was not. Alas! is it true, what I have so
+often heard, that such feelings cannot always last?"
+
+Poor Augusta! she knew not how deep reason she had to fear. She saw not
+the temptations that surrounded her husband in the circles where to all
+the stimulus of wit and intellect was often added the zest of _wine_,
+used far too freely for safety.
+
+Already had Edward become familiar with a degree of physical excitement
+which touches the very verge of intoxication; yet, strong in
+self-confidence, and deluded by the customs of society, he dreamed not
+of danger. The traveller who has passed above the rapids of Niagara may
+have noticed the spot where the first white sparkling ripple announces
+the downward tendency of the waters. All here is brilliancy and beauty;
+and as the waters ripple and dance in the sunbeam, they seem only as if
+inspired by a spirit of new life, and not as hastening to a dreadful
+fall. So the first approach to intemperance, that ruins both body and
+soul, seems only like the buoyancy and exulting freshness of a new life,
+and the unconscious voyager feels his bark undulating with a thrill of
+delight, ignorant of the inexorable hurry, the tremendous sweep, with
+which the laughing waters urge him on beyond the reach of hope or
+recovery.
+
+It was at this period in the life of Edward that one judicious and manly
+friend, who would have had the courage to point out to him the danger
+that every one else perceived, might have saved him. But among the
+circle of his acquaintances there was none such. "_Let every man mind
+his own business_" was their universal maxim. True, heads were gravely
+shaken, and Mr. A. regretted to Mr. B. that so promising a young man
+seemed about to ruin himself. But one was "_no relation_," of Edward's,
+and the other "felt a delicacy in speaking on such a subject," and
+therefore, according to a very ancient precedent, they "passed by on the
+other side." Yet it was at Mr. A.'s sideboard, always sparkling with the
+choicest wine, that he had felt the first excitement of extra stimulus;
+it was at Mr. B.'s house that the convivial club began to hold their
+meetings, which, after a time, found a more appropriate place in a
+public hotel. It is thus that the sober, the regular, and the discreet,
+whose constitution saves them from liabilities to excess, will accompany
+the ardent and excitable to the very verge of danger, and then wonder at
+their want of self-control.
+
+It was a cold winter evening, and the wind whistled drearily around the
+closed shutters of the parlor in which Augusta was sitting. Every thing
+around her bore the marks of elegance and comfort.
+
+Splendid books and engravings lay about in every direction. Vases of
+rare and costly flowers exhaled perfume, and magnificent mirrors
+multiplied every object. All spoke of luxury and repose, save the
+anxious and sad countenance of its mistress.
+
+It was late, and she had watched anxiously for her husband for many long
+hours. She drew out her gold and diamond repeater, and looked at it. It
+was long past midnight. She sighed as she remembered the pleasant
+evenings they had passed together, as her eye fell on the books they had
+read together, and on her piano and harp, now silent, and thought of all
+he had said and looked in those days when each was all to the other.
+
+She was aroused from this melancholy revery by a loud knocking at the
+street door. She hastened to open it, but started back at the sight it
+disclosed--her husband borne by four men.
+
+"Dead! is he dead?" she screamed, in agony.
+
+"No, ma'am," said one of the men, "but he might as well be dead as in
+such a fix as this."
+
+The whole truth, in all its degradation, flashed on the mind of Augusta.
+Without a question or comment, she motioned to the sofa in the parlor,
+and her husband was laid there. She locked the street door, and when the
+last retreating footstep had died away, she turned to the sofa, and
+stood gazing in fixed and almost stupefied silence on the face of her
+senseless husband.
+
+At once she realized the whole of her fearful lot. She saw before her
+the blight of her own affections, the ruin of her helpless children, the
+disgrace and misery of her husband. She looked around her in helpless
+despair, for she well knew the power of the vice whose deadly seal was
+set upon her husband. As one who is struggling and sinking in the waters
+casts a last dizzy glance at the green sunny banks and distant trees
+which seem sliding from his view, so did all the scenes of her happy
+days pass in a moment before her, and she groaned aloud in bitterness of
+spirit. "Great God! help me, help me," she prayed. "Save him--O, save my
+husband."
+
+Augusta was a woman of no common energy of spirit, and when the first
+wild burst of anguish was over, she resolved not to be wanting to her
+husband and children in a crisis so dreadful.
+
+"When he awakes," she mentally exclaimed, "I will warn and implore; I
+will pour out my whole soul to save him. My poor husband, you have been
+misled--betrayed. But you are too good, too generous, too noble to be
+sacrificed without a struggle."
+
+It was late the next morning before the stupor in which Edward was
+plunged began to pass off. He slowly opened his eyes, started up wildly,
+gazed hurriedly around the room, till his eye met the fixed and
+sorrowful gaze of his wife. The past instantly flashed upon him, and a
+deep flush passed over his countenance. There was a dead, a solemn
+silence, until Augusta, yielding to her agony, threw herself into his
+arms, and wept.
+
+"Then you do not hate me, Augusta?" said he, sorrowfully.
+
+"Hate you--never! But, O Edward, Edward, what has beguiled you?"
+
+"My wife--you once promised to be my guardian in virtue--such you are,
+and will be. O Augusta! you have looked on what you shall never see
+again--never--never--so help me God!" said he, looking up with solemn
+earnestness.
+
+And Augusta, as she gazed on the noble face, the ardent expression of
+sincerity and remorse, could not doubt that her husband was saved. But
+Edward's plan of reformation had one grand defect. It was merely
+modification and retrenchment, and not _entire abandonment_. He could
+not feel it necessary to cut himself off entirely from the scenes and
+associations where temptation had met him. He considered not that, when
+the temperate flow of the blood and the even balance of the nerves have
+once been destroyed, there is, ever after, a double and fourfold
+liability, which often makes a man the sport of the first untoward
+chance.
+
+He still contrived to stimulate sufficiently to prevent the return of a
+calm and healthy state of the mind and body, and to make constant
+self-control and watchfulness necessary.
+
+It is a great mistake to call nothing intemperance but that degree of
+physical excitement which completely overthrows the mental powers. There
+is a state of nervous excitability, resulting from what is often called
+moderate stimulation, which often long precedes this, and is, in regard
+to it, like the premonitory warnings of the fatal cholera--an
+unsuspected draught on the vital powers, from which, at any moment, they
+may sink into irremediable collapse.
+
+It is in this state, often, that the spirit of gambling or of wild
+speculation is induced by the morbid cravings of an over-stimulated
+system. Unsatisfied with the healthy and regular routine of business,
+and the laws of gradual and solid prosperity, the excited and unsteady
+imagination leads its subjects to daring risks, with the alternative of
+unbounded gain on the one side, or of utter ruin on the other. And when,
+as is too often the case, that ruin comes, unrestrained and desperate
+intemperance is the wretched resort to allay the ravings of
+disappointment and despair.
+
+Such was the case with Edward. He had lost his interest in his regular
+business, and he embarked the bulk of his property in a brilliant scheme
+then in vogue; and when he found a crisis coming, threatening ruin and
+beggary, he had recourse to the fatal stimulus, which, alas! he had
+never wholly abandoned.
+
+At this time he spent some months in a distant city, separated from his
+wife and family, while the insidious power of temptation daily
+increased, as he kept up, by artificial stimulus, the flagging vigor of
+his mind and nervous system.
+
+It came at last--the blow which shattered alike his brilliant dreams and
+his real prosperity. The large fortune brought by his wife vanished in a
+moment, so that scarcely a pittance remained in his hands. From the
+distant city where he had been to superintend his schemes, he thus wrote
+to his too confiding wife:--
+
+"Augusta, all is over! expect no more from your husband--believe no more
+of his promises--for he is lost to you and you to him. Augusta, our
+property is gone; _your_ property, which I have blindly risked, is all
+swallowed up. But is that the worst? No, no, Augusta; _I_ am lost--lost,
+body and soul, and as irretrievably as the perishing riches I have
+squandered. Once I had energy--health--nerve--resolution; but all are
+gone: yes, yes, I have yielded--I do yield daily to what is at once my
+tormentor and my temporary refuge from intolerable misery. You remember
+the sad hour you first knew your husband was a drunkard. Your look on
+that morning of misery--shall I ever forget it? Yet, blind and confiding
+as you were, how soon did your ill-judged confidence in me return! Vain
+hopes! I was even then past recovery--even then sealed over to blackness
+of darkness forever.
+
+"Alas! my wife, my peerless wife, why am I your husband? why the father
+of such children as you have given me? Is there nothing in your
+unequalled loveliness--nothing in the innocence of our helpless babes,
+that is powerful enough to recall me? No, there is not.
+
+"Augusta, you know not the dreadful gnawing, the intolerable agony of
+this master passion. I walk the floor--I think of my own dear home, my
+high hopes, my proud expectations, my children, my wife, my own immortal
+soul. I feel that I am sacrificing all--feel it till I am withered with
+agony; but the hour comes--the burning hour, and _all is in vain_. I
+shall return to you no more, Augusta. All the little wreck I have saved
+I send: you have friends, relatives--above all, you have an energy of
+mind, a capacity of resolute action, beyond that of ordinary women, and
+you shall never be bound--the living to the dead. True, you will suffer,
+thus to burst the bonds that unite us; but be resolute, for you will
+suffer more to watch from day to day the slow workings of death and ruin
+in your husband. Would you stay with me, to see every vestige of what
+you once loved passing away--to endure the caprice, the moroseness, the
+delirious anger of one no longer master of himself? Would you make your
+children victims and fellow-sufferers with you? No! dark and dreadful is
+my path! I will walk it alone: no one shall go with me.
+
+"In some peaceful retirement you may concentrate your strong feelings
+upon your children, and bring them up to fill a place in your heart
+which a worthless husband has abandoned. If I leave you now, you will
+remember me as I have been--you will love me and weep for me when dead;
+but if you stay with me, your love will be worn out; I shall become the
+object of disgust and loathing. Therefore farewell, my wife--my first,
+best love, farewell! with you I part with hope,--
+
+          'And with hope, farewell fear,
+    Farewell remorse: all good to me is lost:
+    Evil, be thou my good.'
+
+This is a wild strain, but fit for me: do not seek for me, do not write:
+nothing can save me."
+
+Thus abruptly began and ended the letter that conveyed to Augusta the
+death doom of her hopes. There are moments of agony when the most
+worldly heart is pressed upward to God, even as a weight will force
+upward the reluctant water. Augusta had been a generous, a high-minded,
+an affectionate woman, but she had lived entirely for this world. Her
+chief good had been her husband and her children. These had been her
+pride, her reliance, her dependence. Strong in her own resources, she
+had never felt the need of looking to a higher power for assistance and
+happiness. But when this letter fell from her trembling hand, her heart
+died within her at its wild and reckless bitterness.
+
+In her desperation she looked up to God. "What have I to live for now?"
+was the first feeling of her heart.
+
+But she repressed this inquiry of selfish agony, and besought almighty
+assistance to nerve her weakness; and here first began that practical
+acquaintance with the truths and hopes of religion which changed her
+whole character.
+
+The possibility of blind, confiding idolatry of any earthly object was
+swept away by the fall of her husband, and with the full energy of a
+decided and desolate spirit, she threw herself on the protection of an
+almighty Helper. She followed her husband to the city whither he had
+gone, found him, and vainly attempted to save.
+
+There were the usual alternations of short-lived reformations, exciting
+hopes only to be destroyed. There was the gradual sinking of the body,
+the decay of moral feeling and principle--the slow but sure approach of
+disgusting animalism, which marks the progress of the drunkard.
+
+It was some years after that a small and partly ruinous tenement in the
+outskirts of A. received a new family. The group consisted of four
+children, whose wan and wistful countenances, and still, unchildlike
+deportment, testified an early acquaintance with want and sorrow. There
+was the mother, faded and care-worn, whose dark and melancholy eyes,
+pale cheeks, and compressed lips told of years of anxiety and endurance.
+There was the father, with haggard face, unsteady step, and that
+callous, reckless air, that betrayed long familiarity with degradation
+and crime. Who, that had seen Edward Howard in the morning and freshness
+of his days, could have recognized him in this miserable husband and
+father? or who, in this worn and woe-stricken woman, would have known
+the beautiful, brilliant, and accomplished Augusta? Yet such changes are
+not fancy, as many a bitter and broken heart can testify.
+
+Augusta had followed her guilty husband through many a change and many a
+weary wandering. All hope of reformation had gradually faded away. Her
+own eyes had seen, her ears had heard, all those disgusting details, too
+revolting to be portrayed; for in drunkenness there is no royal road--no
+salvo for greatness of mind, refinement of taste, or tenderness of
+feeling. All alike are merged in the corruption of a moral death.
+
+The traveller, who met Edward reeling by the roadside, was sometimes
+startled to hear the fragments of classical lore, or wild bursts of
+half-remembered poetry, mixing strangely with the imbecile merriment of
+intoxication. But when he stopped to gaze, there was no further mark on
+his face or in his eye by which he could be distinguished from the
+loathsome and lowest drunkard.
+
+Augusta had come with her husband to a city where they were wholly
+unknown, that she might at least escape the degradation of their lot in
+the presence of those who had known them in better days. The long and
+dreadful struggle that annihilated the hopes of this life had raised her
+feelings to rest upon the next, and the habit of communion with God,
+induced by sorrows which nothing else could console, had given a tender
+dignity to her character such as nothing else could bestow.
+
+It is true, she deeply loved her children; but it was with a holy,
+chastened love, such as inspired the sentiment once breathed by Him "who
+was made perfect through sufferings."
+
+"For their sakes I sanctify myself, that they also may be sanctified."
+
+Poverty, deep poverty, had followed their steps, but yet she had not
+fainted. Talents which in her happier days had been nourished merely as
+luxuries, were now stretched to the utmost to furnish a support; while
+from the resources of her own reading she drew that which laid the
+foundation for early mental culture in her children.
+
+Augusta had been here but a few weeks before her footsteps were traced
+by her only brother, who had lately discovered her situation, and urged
+her to forsake her unworthy husband and find refuge with him.
+
+"Augusta, my sister, I have found you!" he exclaimed, as he suddenly
+entered one day, while she was busied with the work of her family.
+
+"Henry, my dear brother!" There was a momentary illumination of
+countenance accompanying these words, which soon faded into a mournful
+quietness, as she cast her eyes around on the scanty accommodations and
+mean apartment.
+
+"I see how it is, Augusta; step by step, you are sinking--dragged down
+by a vain sense of duty to one no longer worthy. I cannot bear it any
+longer; I have come to take you away."
+
+Augusta turned from him, and looked abstractedly out of the window. Her
+features settled in thought. Their expression gradually deepened from
+their usual tone of mild, resigned sorrow to one of keen anguish.
+
+"Henry," said she, turning towards him, "never was mortal woman so
+blessed in another as I once was in him. How can I forget it? Who knew
+him in those days that did not admire and love him? They tempted and
+insnared him; and even I urged him into the path of danger. He fell, and
+there was none to help. I urged reformation, and he again and again
+promised, resolved, and began. But again they tempted him--even his very
+best friends; yes, and that, too, when they knew his danger. They led
+him on as far as it was safe for _them_ to go, and when the sweep of his
+more excitable temperament took him past the point of safety and
+decency, they stood by, and coolly wondered and lamented. How often was
+he led on by such heartless friends to humiliating falls, and then
+driven to desperation by the cold look, averted faces, and cruel sneers
+of those whose medium temperament and cooler blood saved them from the
+snares which they saw were enslaving him. What if _I_ had forsaken him
+_then_? What account should I have rendered to God? Every time a friend
+has been alienated by his comrades, it has seemed to seal him with
+another seal. I am his wife--and mine will be _the last_. Henry, when I
+leave him, I _know_ his eternal ruin is sealed. I cannot do it now; a
+little longer--a little longer; the hour, I see, must come. I know my
+duty to my children forbids me to keep them here; take them--they are my
+last earthly comforts, Henry--but you must take them away. It may be--O
+God--perhaps it _must be_, that I shall soon follow; but not till I have
+tried _once more_. What is this present life to one who has suffered as
+I have? Nothing. But eternity! O Henry! eternity--how can I abandon him
+to _everlasting_ despair! Under the breaking of my heart I have borne
+up. I have borne up under _all_ that can try a woman; but _this_
+thought----" She stopped, and seemed struggling with herself; but at
+last, borne down by a tide of agony, she leaned her head on her hands;
+the tears streamed through her fingers, and her whole frame shook with
+convulsive sobs.
+
+Her brother wept with her; nor dared he again to touch the point so
+solemnly guarded. The next day Augusta parted from her children, hoping
+something from feelings that, possibly, might be stirred by their
+absence in the bosom of their father.
+
+It was about a week after this that Augusta one evening presented
+herself at the door of a rich Mr. L., whose princely mansion was one of
+the ornaments of the city of A. It was not till she reached the
+sumptuous drawing room that she recognized in Mr. L. one whom she and
+her husband had frequently met in the gay circles of their early life.
+Altered as she was, Mr. L. did not recognize her, but compassionately
+handed her a chair, and requested her to wait the return of his lady,
+who was out; and then turning, he resumed his conversation with another
+gentleman.
+
+"Now, Dallas," said he, "you are altogether excessive and intemperate in
+this matter. Society is not to be reformed by every man directing his
+efforts towards his neighbor, but by every man taking care of himself.
+It is you and I, my dear sir, who must begin with ourselves, and every
+other man must do the same; and then society will be effectually
+reformed. Now this modern way, by which every man considers it his duty
+to attend to the spiritual matters of his next-door neighbor, is taking
+the business at the wrong end altogether. It makes a vast deal of
+appearance, but it does very little good."
+
+"But suppose your neighbor feels no disposition to attend to his own
+improvement--what then?"
+
+"Why, then it is his own concern, and not mine. What my Maker requires
+is, that I do _my_ duty, and not fret about my neighbor's."
+
+"But, my friend, that is the very question. What is the duty your Maker
+requires? Does it not include some regard to your neighbor, some care
+and thought for his interest and improvement?"
+
+"Well, well, I do that by setting a good example. I do not mean by
+example what you do--that is, that I am to stop drinking wine because it
+may lead him to drink brandy, any more than that I must stop eating
+because he may eat too much and become a dyspeptic--but that I am to use
+my wine, and every thing else, temperately and decently, and thus set
+him a good example."
+
+The conversation was here interrupted by the return of Mrs. L. It
+recalled, in all its freshness, to the mind of Augusta the days when
+both she and her husband had thus spoken and thought.
+
+Ah, how did these sentiments appear to her now--lonely, helpless,
+forlorn--the wife of a ruined husband, the mother of more than orphan
+children! How different from what they seemed, when, secure in ease, in
+wealth, in gratified affections, she thoughtlessly echoed the common
+phraseology, "Why must people concern themselves so much in their
+neighbors' affairs? Let every man mind his own business."
+
+Augusta received in silence from Mrs. L. the fine sewing for which she
+came, and left the room.
+
+"Ellen," said Mr. L. to his wife; "that poor woman must be in trouble of
+some kind or other. You must go some time, and see if any thing can be
+done for her."
+
+"How singular!" said Mrs. L.; "she reminds me all the time of Augusta
+Howard. You remember her, my dear?"
+
+"Yes, poor thing! and her husband too. That was a shocking affair of
+Edward Howard's. I hear that he became an intemperate, worthless fellow.
+Who could have thought it!"
+
+"But you recollect, my dear," said Mrs. L., "I predicted it six months
+before it was talked of. You remember, at the wine party which you gave
+after Mary's wedding, he was so excited that he was hardly decent. I
+mentioned then that he was getting into dangerous ways. But he was such
+an excitable creature, that two or three glasses would put him quite
+beside himself. And there is George Eldon, who takes off his ten or
+twelve glasses, and no one suspects it."
+
+"Well, it was a great pity," replied Mr. L.; "Howard was worth a dozen
+George Eldons."
+
+"Do you suppose," said Dallas, who had listened thus far in silence,
+"that if he had moved in a circle where it was the universal custom to
+_banish all stimulating drinks_, he would thus have fallen?"
+
+"I cannot say," said Mr. L.; "perhaps not."
+
+Mr. Dallas was a gentleman of fortune and leisure, and of an ardent and
+enthusiastic temperament. Whatever engaged him absorbed his whole soul;
+and of late years, his mind had become deeply engaged in schemes of
+philanthropy for the improvement of his fellow-men. He had, in his
+benevolent ministrations, often passed the dwelling of Edward, and was
+deeply interested in the pale and patient wife and mother. He made
+acquaintance with her through the aid of her children, and, in one way
+and another, learned particulars of their history that awakened the
+deepest interest and concern. None but a mind as sanguine as his would
+have dreamed of attempting to remedy such hopeless misery by the
+reformation of him who was its cause. But such a plan had actually
+occurred to him. The remarks of Mr. and Mrs. L. recalled the idea, and
+he soon found that his intended _protege_ was the very Edward Howard
+whose early history was thus disclosed. He learned all the minutiae from
+these his early associates without disclosing his aim, and left them
+still more resolved upon his benevolent plan.
+
+He watched his opportunity when Edward was free from the influence of
+stimulus, and it was just after the loss of his children had called
+forth some remains of his better nature. Gradually and kindly he tried
+to touch the springs of his mind, and awaken some of its buried
+sensibilities.
+
+"It is in vain, Mr. Dallas, to talk thus to me," said Edward, when, one
+day, with the strong eloquence of excited feeling, he painted the
+motives for attempting reformation; "you might as well attempt to
+reclaim the lost in hell. Do you think," he continued, in a wild,
+determined manner--"do you think I do not know all you can tell me? I
+have it all by heart, sir; no one can preach such discourses as I can on
+this subject: I know all--believe all--as the devils believe and
+tremble."
+
+"Ay, but," said Dallas, "to you _there is hope_; you _are not_ to ruin
+yourself forever."
+
+"And who the devil are you, to speak to me in this way?" said Edward,
+looking up from his sullen despair with a gleam of curiosity, if not of
+hope.
+
+"God's messenger to you, Edward Howard," said Dallas, fixing his keen
+eye upon him solemnly; "to you, Edward Howard, who have thrown away
+talents, hope, and health--who have blasted the heart of your wife, and
+beggared your suffering children. To you I am the messenger of your
+God--by me he offers health, and hope, and self-respect, and the regard
+of your fellow-men. You may heal the broken heart of your wife, and give
+back a father to your helpless children. Think of it, Howard: what if it
+were possible? Only suppose it. What would it be again to feel yourself
+a man, beloved and respected as you once were, with a happy home, a
+cheerful wife, and smiling little ones? Think how you could repay your
+poor wife for all her tears! What hinders you from gaining all this?"
+
+"Just what hindered the rich man in hell--'_between us there is a great
+gulf fixed_;' it lies between me and all that is good; my wife, my
+children, my hope of heaven, are all on the other side."
+
+"Ay, but this gulf can be passed: Howard, what _would you give_ to be a
+temperate man?"
+
+"What would I give?" said Howard. He thought for a moment, and burst
+into tears.
+
+"Ah, I see how it is," said Dallas; "you need a friend, and God has sent
+you one."
+
+"What _can_ you do for me, Mr. Dallas?" said Edward, in a tone of wonder
+at the confidence of his assurances.
+
+"I will tell you what I can do: I can take you to my house, and give you
+a room, and watch over you until the strongest temptations are past--I
+can give you business again. I can do _all_ for you that needs to be
+done, if you will give yourself to my care."
+
+"O God of mercy!" exclaimed the unhappy man, "is there hope for me? I
+cannot believe it possible; but take me where you choose--I will follow
+and obey."
+
+A few hours witnessed the transfer of the lost husband to one of the
+retired apartments in the elegant mansion of Dallas, where he found his
+anxious and grateful wife still stationed as his watchful guardian.
+
+Medical treatment, healthful exercise, useful employment, simple food,
+and pure water were connected with a personal supervision by Dallas,
+which, while gently and politely sustained, at first amounted to actual
+imprisonment.
+
+For a time the reaction from the sudden suspension of habitual stimulus
+was dreadful, and even with tears did the unhappy man entreat to be
+permitted to abandon the undertaking. But the resolute steadiness of
+Dallas and the tender entreaties of his wife prevailed. It is true that
+he might be said to be saved "so as by fire;" for a fever, and a long
+and fierce delirium, wasted him almost to the borders of the grave.
+
+But, at length, the struggle between life and death was over, and though
+it left him stretched on the bed of sickness, emaciated and weak, yet he
+was restored to his right mind, and was conscious of returning health.
+Let any one who has laid a friend in the grave, and known what it is to
+have the heart fail with longing for them day by day, imagine the dreamy
+and unreal joy of Augusta when she began again to see in Edward the
+husband so long lost to her. It was as if the grave had given back the
+dead.
+
+"Augusta!" said he, faintly, as, after a long and quiet sleep, he awoke
+free from delirium. She bent over him. "Augusta, I am redeemed--I am
+saved--I feel in myself that I am made whole."
+
+The high heart of Augusta melted at these words. She trembled and wept.
+Her husband wept also, and after a pause he continued,--
+
+"It is more than being restored to this life--I feel that it is the
+beginning of eternal life. It is the Savior who sought me out, and I
+know that he is able to keep me from falling."
+
+But we will draw a veil over a scene which words have little power to
+paint.
+
+"Pray, Dallas," said Mr. L., one day, "who is that fine-looking young
+man whom I met in your office this morning? I thought his face seemed
+familiar."
+
+"It is a Mr. Howard--a young lawyer whom I have lately taken into
+business with me."
+
+"Strange! Impossible!" said Mr. L. "Surely this cannot be the Howard
+that I once knew."
+
+"I believe he is," said Mr. Dallas.
+
+"Why, I thought he was gone--dead and done over, long ago, with
+intemperance."
+
+"He was so; few have ever sunk lower; but he now promises even to outdo
+all that was hoped of him."
+
+"Strange! Why, Dallas, what did bring about this change?"
+
+"I feel a delicacy in mentioning how it came about to you, Mr. L., as
+there undoubtedly was a great deal of 'interference with other men's
+matters' in the business. In short, the young man fell in the way of one
+of those meddlesome fellows, who go prowling about, distributing tracts,
+forming temperance societies, and all that sort of stuff."
+
+"Come, come, Dallas," said Mr. L., smiling, "I must hear the story, for
+all that."
+
+"First call with me at this house," said Dallas, stopping before the
+door of a neat little mansion. They were soon in the parlor. The first
+sight that met their eyes was Edward Howard, who, with a cheek glowing
+with exercise, was tossing aloft a blooming boy, while Augusta was
+watching his motions, her face radiant with smiles.
+
+"Mr. and Mrs. Howard, this is Mr. L., an old acquaintance, I believe."
+
+There was a moment of mutual embarrassment and surprise, soon dispelled,
+however, by the frank cordiality of Edward. Mr. L. sat down, but could
+scarce withdraw his eyes from the countenance of Augusta, in whose
+eloquent face he recognized a beauty of a higher cast than even in her
+earlier days.
+
+He glanced about the apartment. It was simply but tastefully furnished,
+and wore an air of retired, domestic comfort. There were books,
+engravings, and musical instruments. Above all, there were four happy,
+healthy-looking children, pursuing studies or sports at the farther end
+of the room.
+
+After a short call they regained the street.
+
+"Dallas, you are a happy man," said Mr. L.; "that family will be a mine
+of jewels to you."
+
+He was right. Every soul saved from pollution and ruin is a jewel to him
+that reclaims it, whose lustre only eternity can disclose; and therefore
+it is written, "They that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the
+firmament, and they that turn many to righteousness, as the stars
+forever and ever."
+
+
+
+
+COUSIN WILLIAM.
+
+
+In a stately red house, in one of the villages of New England, lived the
+heroine of our story. She had every advantage of rank and wealth, for
+her father was a deacon of the church, and owned sheep, and oxen, and
+exceeding much substance. There was an appearance of respectability and
+opulence about all the demesnes. The house stood almost concealed amid a
+forest of apple trees, in spring blushing with blossoms, and in autumn
+golden with fruit. And near by might be seen the garden, surrounded by a
+red picket fence, enclosing all sorts of magnificence. There, in autumn,
+might be seen abundant squash vines, which seemed puzzled for room where
+to bestow themselves; and bright golden squashes, and full-orbed yellow
+pumpkins, looking as satisfied as the evening sun when he has just had
+his face washed in a shower, and is sinking soberly to bed. There were
+superannuated seed cucumbers, enjoying the pleasures of a contemplative
+old age; and Indian corn, nicely done up in green silk, with a specimen
+tassel hanging at the end of each ear. The beams of the summer sun
+darted through rows of crimson currants, abounding on bushes by the
+fence, while a sulky black currant bush sat scowling in one corner, a
+sort of garden curiosity.
+
+But time would fail us were we to enumerate all the wealth of Deacon
+Israel Taylor. He himself belonged to that necessary class of beings,
+who, though remarkable for nothing at all, are very useful in filling up
+the links of society. Far otherwise was his sister-in-law, Mrs. Abigail
+Evetts, who, on the demise of the deacon's wife, had assumed the reins
+of government in the household.
+
+This lady was of the same opinion that has animated many illustrious
+philosophers, namely, that the affairs of this world need a great deal
+of seeing to in order to have them go on prosperously; and although she
+did not, like them, engage in the supervision of the universe, she made
+amends by unremitting diligence in the department under her care. In her
+mind there was an evident necessity that every one should be up and
+doing: Monday, because it was washing day; Tuesday, because it was
+ironing day; Wednesday, because it was baking day; Thursday, because
+to-morrow was Friday; and so on to the end of the week. Then she had the
+care of reminding all in the house of every thing each was to do from
+week's end to week's end; and she was so faithful in this respect, that
+scarcely an original act of volition took place in the family. The poor
+deacon was reminded when he went out and when he came in, when he sat
+down and when he rose up, so that an act of omission could only have
+been committed through sheer malice prepense.
+
+But the supervision of a whole family of children afforded to a lady of
+her active turn of mind more abundant matter of exertion. To see that
+their faces were washed, their clothes mended, and their catechism
+learned; to see that they did not pick the flowers, nor throw stones at
+the chickens, nor sophisticate the great house dog, was an accumulation
+of care that devolved almost entirely on Mrs. Abigail, so that, by her
+own account, she lived and throve by a perpetual miracle.
+
+The eldest of her charge, at the time this story begins, was a girl just
+arrived at young ladyhood, and her name was Mary. Now we know that
+people very seldom have stories written about them who have not
+sylph-like forms, and glorious eyes, or, at least, "a certain
+inexpressible charm diffused over their whole person." But stories have
+of late so much abounded that they actually seem to have used up all the
+eyes, hair, teeth, lips, and forms necessary for a heroine, so that no
+one can now pretend to find an original collection wherewith to set one
+forth. These things considered, I regard it as fortunate that my heroine
+was not a beauty. She looked neither like a sylph, nor an oread, nor a
+fairy; she had neither _l'air distingue_ nor _l'air magnifique_, but
+bore a great resemblance to a real mortal girl, such as you might pass a
+dozen of without any particular comment--one of those appearances,
+which, though common as water, may, like that, be colored any way by the
+associations you connect with it. Accordingly, a faultless taste in
+dress, a perfect ease and gayety of manner, a constant flow of kindly
+feeling, seemed in her case to produce all the effect of beauty. Her
+manners had just dignity enough to repel impertinence without destroying
+the careless freedom and sprightliness in which she commonly indulged.
+No person had a merrier run of stories, songs, and village traditions,
+and all those odds and ends of character which form the materials for
+animated conversation. She had read, too, every thing she could find:
+Rollin's History, and Scott's Family Bible, that stood in the glass
+bookcase in the best room, and an odd volume of Shakspeare, and now and
+then one of Scott's novels, borrowed from a somewhat literary family in
+the neighborhood. She also kept an album to write her thoughts in, and
+was in a constant habit of cutting out all the pretty poetry from the
+corners of the newspapers, besides drying forget-me-nots and rosebuds,
+in memory of different particular friends, with a number of other little
+sentimental practices to which young ladies of sixteen and thereabout
+are addicted. She was also endowed with great constructiveness;
+so that, in these days of ladies' fairs, there was nothing from
+bellows-needlebooks down to web-footed pincushions to which she could
+not turn her hand. Her sewing certainly _was_ extraordinary, (we think
+too little is made of this in the accomplishments of heroines;) her
+stitching was like rows of pearls, and her cross-stitching was
+fairy-like; and for sewing over and over, as the village schoolma'am
+hath it, she had not her equal. And what shall we say of her pies and
+puddings? They would have converted the most reprobate old bachelor in
+the world. And then her sweeping and dusting! "Many daughters have done
+virtuously, but thou excellest them all!"
+
+And now, what do you suppose is coming next? Why, a young gentleman, of
+course; for about this time comes to settle in the village, and take
+charge of the academy, a certain William Barton. Now, if you wish to
+know more particularly who he was, we only wish we could refer you to
+Mrs. Abigail, who was most accomplished in genealogies and old wifes'
+fables, and she would have told you that "her gran'ther, Ike Evetts,
+married a wife who was second cousin to Peter Scranton, who was great
+uncle to Polly Mosely, whose daughter Mary married William Barton's
+father, just about the time old 'Squire Peter's house was burned down."
+And then would follow an account of the domestic history of all branches
+of the family since they came over from England. Be that as it may, it
+is certain that Mrs. Abigail denominated him cousin, and that he came to
+the deacon's to board; and he had not been there more than a week, and
+made sundry observations on Miss Mary, before he determined to call her
+cousin too, which he accomplished in the most natural way in the world.
+
+Mary was at first somewhat afraid of him, because she had heard that he
+had studied through all that was to be studied in Greek, and Latin, and
+German too; and she saw a library of books in his room, that made her
+sigh every time she looked at them, to think how much there was to be
+learned of which she was ignorant. But all this wore away, and presently
+they were the best friends in the world. He gave her books to read, and
+he gave her lessons in French, nothing puzzled by that troublesome verb
+which must be first conjugated, whether in French, Latin, or English.
+Then he gave her a deal of good advice about the cultivation of her mind
+and the formation of her character, all of which was very improving, and
+tended greatly to consolidate their friendship. But, unfortunately for
+Mary, William made quite as favorable an impression on the female
+community generally as he did on her, having distinguished himself on
+certain public occasions, such as delivering lectures on botany, and
+also, at the earnest request of the fourth of July committee, pronounced
+an oration which covered him with glory. He had been known, also, to
+write poetry, and had a retired and romantic air greatly bewitching to
+those who read Bulwer's novels. In short, it was morally certain,
+according to all rules of evidence, that if he had chosen to pay any
+lady of the village a dozen visits a week, she would have considered it
+as her duty to entertain him.
+
+William did visit; for, like many studious people, he found a need for
+the excitement of society; but, whether it was party or singing school,
+he walked home with Mary, of course, in as steady and domestic a manner
+as any man who has been married a twelvemonth. His air in conversing
+with her was inevitably more confidential than with any other one, and
+this was cause for envy in many a gentle breast, and an interesting
+diversity of reports with regard to her manner of treating the young
+gentleman went forth into the village.
+
+"I wonder Mary Taylor will laugh and joke so much with William Barton in
+company," said one. "Her manners are altogether too free," said another.
+"It is evident she has designs upon him," remarked a third. "And she
+cannot even conceal it," pursued a fourth.
+
+Some sayings of this kind at length reached the ears of Mrs. Abigail,
+who had the best heart in the world, and was so indignant that it might
+have done your heart good to see her. Still she thought it showed that
+"the girl needed _advising_;" and "she should _talk_ to Mary about the
+matter."
+
+But she first concluded to advise with William on the subject; and,
+therefore, after dinner the same day, while he was looking over a
+treatise on trigonometry or conic sections, she commenced upon him:--
+
+"Our Mary is growing up a fine girl."
+
+William was intent on solving a problem, and only understanding that
+something had been said, mechanically answered, "Yes."
+
+"A little wild or so," said Mrs. Abigail.
+
+"I know it," said William, fixing his eyes earnestly on E, F, B, C.
+
+"Perhaps you think her a little too talkative and free with you
+sometimes; you know girls do not always think what they do."
+
+"Certainly," said William, going on with his problem.
+
+"I think you had better speak to her about it," said Mrs. Abigail.
+
+"I think so too," said William, musing over his completed work, till at
+length he arose, put it in his pocket, and went to school.
+
+O, this unlucky concentrativeness! How many shocking things a man may
+indorse by the simple habit of saying "Yes" and "No," when he is not
+hearing what is said to him.
+
+The next morning, when William was gone to the academy, and Mary was
+washing the breakfast things, Aunt Abigail introduced the subject with
+great tact and delicacy by remarking.--
+
+"Mary, I guess you had better be rather less free with William than you
+have been."
+
+"Free!" said Mary, starting, and nearly dropping the cup from her hand;
+"why, aunt, what _do_ you mean?"
+
+"Why, Mary, you must not always be around so free in talking with him,
+at home, and in company, and every where. It won't do." The color
+started into Mary's cheek, and mounted even to her forehead, as she
+answered with a dignified air,--
+
+"I have not been too free; I know what is right and proper; I have not
+been doing any thing that was improper."
+
+Now, when one is going to give advice, it is very troublesome to have
+its necessity thus called in question; and Mrs. Abigail, who was fond of
+her own opinion, felt called upon to defend it.
+
+"Why, yes, you have, Mary; every body in the village notices it."
+
+"I don't care what every body in the village says. I shall always do
+what I think proper," retorted the young lady; "I know Cousin William
+does not think so."
+
+"Well, _I_ think he does, from some things I have heard him say."
+
+"O aunt! what have you heard him say?" said Mary, nearly upsetting a
+chair in the eagerness with which she turned to her aunt.
+
+"Mercy on us! you need not knock the house down, Mary. I don't remember
+exactly about it, only that his way of speaking made me think so."
+
+"O aunt! do tell me what it was, and all about it," said Mary, following
+her aunt, who went around dusting the furniture.
+
+Mrs. Abigail, like most obstinate people, who feel that they have gone
+too far, and yet are ashamed to go back, took refuge in an obstinate
+generalization, and only asserted that she had heard him say things, as
+if he did not quite like her ways.
+
+This is the most consoling of all methods in which to leave a matter of
+this kind for a person of active imagination. Of course, in five
+minutes, Mary had settled in her mind a list of remarks that would have
+been suited to any of her village companions, as coming from her cousin.
+All the improbability of the thing vanished in the absorbing
+consideration of its possibility; and, after a moment's reflection, she
+pressed her lips together in a very firm way, and remarked that "Mr.
+Barton would have no occasion to say such things again."
+
+It was very evident, from her heightened color and dignified air, that
+her state of mind was very heroical. As for poor Aunt Abigail, she felt
+sorry she had vexed her, and addressed herself most earnestly to her
+consolation, remarking, "Mary, I don't suppose William meant any thing.
+He knows you don't mean any thing wrong."
+
+"Don't _mean_ any thing wrong!" said Mary, indignantly.
+
+"Why, child, he thinks you don't know much about folks and things, and
+if you have been a little----"
+
+"But I have not been. It was he that talked with me first. It was he
+that did every thing first. He called me cousin--and he _is_ my cousin."
+
+"No, child, you are mistaken; for you remember his grandfather was----"
+
+"I don't care who his grandfather was; he has no right to think of me as
+he does."
+
+"Now, Mary, don't go to quarrelling with him; he can't help his
+thoughts, you know."
+
+"I don't care what he thinks," said Mary, flinging out of the room with
+tears in her eyes.
+
+Now, when a young lady is in such a state of affliction, the first thing
+to be done is to sit down and cry for two hours or more, which Mary
+accomplished in the most thorough manner; in the mean while making many
+reflections on the instability of human friendships, and resolving never
+to trust any one again as long as she lived, and thinking that this was
+a cold and hollow-hearted world, together with many other things she had
+read in books, but never realized so forcibly as at present. But what
+was to be done? Of course she did not wish to speak a word to William
+again, and wished he did not board there; and finally she put on her
+bonnet, and determined to go over to her other aunt's in the
+neighborhood, and spend the day, so that she might not see him at
+dinner.
+
+But it so happened that Mr. William, on coming home at noon, found
+himself unaccountably lonesome during school recess for dinner, and
+hearing where Mary was, determined to call after school at night at her
+aunt's, and attend her home.
+
+Accordingly, in the afternoon, as Mary was sitting in the parlor with
+two or three cousins, Mr. William entered.
+
+Mary was so anxious to look just as if nothing was the matter, that she
+turned away her head, and began to look out of the window just as the
+young gentleman came up to speak to her. So, after he had twice inquired
+after her health, she drew up very coolly, and said,--
+
+"Did you speak to me, sir?"
+
+William looked a little surprised at first, but seating himself by her,
+"To be sure," said he; "and I came to know why you ran away without
+leaving any message for me?"
+
+"It did not occur to me," said Mary, in the dry tone which, in a lady,
+means, "I will excuse you from any further conversation, if you please."
+William felt as if there was something different from common in all
+this, but thought that perhaps he was mistaken, and so continued:--
+
+"What a pity, now, that you should be so careless of me, when I was so
+thoughtful of you! I have come all this distance, to see how you do."
+
+"I am sorry to have given you the trouble," said Mary.
+
+"Cousin, are you unwell to-day?" said William.
+
+"No, sir," said Mary, going on with her sewing.
+
+There was something so marked and decisive in all this, that William
+could scarcely believe his ears. He turned away, and commenced a
+conversation with a young lady; and Mary, to show that she could talk if
+she chose, commenced relating a story to her cousins, and presently they
+were all in a loud laugh.
+
+"Mary has been full of her knickknacks to-day," said her old uncle,
+joining them.
+
+William looked at her: she never seemed brighter or in better spirits,
+and he began to think that even Cousin Mary might puzzle a man
+sometimes.
+
+He turned away, and began a conversation with old Mr. Zachary Coan on
+the raising of buckwheat--a subject which evidently required profound
+thought, for he never looked more grave, not to say melancholy.
+
+Mary glanced that way, and was struck with the sad and almost severe
+expression with which he was listening to the details of Mr. Zachary,
+and was convinced that he was no more thinking of buckwheat than she
+was.
+
+"I never thought of hurting his feelings so much," said she, relenting;
+"after all, he has been very kind to me. But he might have told me about
+it, and not somebody else." And hereupon she cast another glance towards
+him.
+
+William was not talking, but sat with his eyes fixed on the
+snuffer-tray, with an intense gravity of gaze that quite troubled her,
+and she could not help again blaming herself.
+
+"To be sure! Aunt was right; he could not help his thoughts. I will try
+to forget it," thought she.
+
+Now, you must not think Mary was sitting still and gazing during this
+soliloquy. No, she was talking and laughing, apparently the most
+unconcerned spectator in the room. So passed the evening till the little
+company broke up.
+
+"I am ready to attend you home," said William, in a tone of cold and
+almost haughty deference.
+
+"I am obliged to you," said the young lady, in a similar tone, "but I
+shall stay all night;" then, suddenly changing her tone, she said, "No,
+I cannot keep it up any longer. I will go home with you, Cousin
+William."
+
+"Keep up what?" said William, with surprise.
+
+Mary was gone for her bonnet. She came out, took his arm, and walked on
+a little way.
+
+"You have advised me always to be frank, cousin," said Mary, "and I must
+and will be; so I shall tell you all, though I dare say it is not
+according to rule."
+
+"All what?" said William.
+
+"Cousin," said she, not at all regarding what he said, "I was very much
+vexed this afternoon."
+
+"So I perceived, Mary."
+
+"Well, it is vexatious," she continued, "though, after all, we cannot
+expect people to think us perfect; but I did not think it quite fair in
+you not to tell _me_."
+
+"Tell you what, Mary?"
+
+Here they came to a place where the road turned through a small patch of
+woods. It was green and shady, and enlivened by a lively chatterbox of a
+brook. There was a mossy trunk of a tree that had fallen beside it, and
+made a pretty seat. The moonlight lay in little patches upon it, as it
+streamed down through the branches of the trees. It was a fairy-looking
+place, and Mary stopped and sat down, as if to collect her thoughts.
+After picking up a stick, and playing a moment in the water, she
+began:--
+
+"After all, cousin, it was very natural in you to say so, if you thought
+so; though I should not have supposed you would think so."
+
+"Well, I should be glad if I could know what it is," said William, in a
+tone of patient resignation.
+
+"O, I forgot that I had not told you," said she, pushing back her hat,
+and speaking like one determined to go through with the thing. "Why,
+cousin, I have been told that you spoke of my manners towards yourself
+as being freer--more--obtrusive than they should be. And now," said she,
+her eyes flashing, "you see it was not a very easy thing to tell you,
+but I began with being frank, and I will be so, for the sake of
+satisfying _myself_."
+
+To this William simply replied, "Who told you this, Mary?"
+
+"My aunt."
+
+"Did she say I said it to her?"
+
+"Yes; and I do not so much object to your saying it as to your
+_thinking_ it, for you know I did not force myself on your notice; it
+was you who sought my acquaintance and won my confidence; and that you,
+above all others, should think of me in this way!"
+
+"I never did think so, Mary," said William, quietly.
+
+"Nor ever _said_ so?"
+
+"Never. I should think you might have _known_ it, Mary."
+
+"But----" said Mary.
+
+"But," said William, firmly, "Aunt Abigail is certainly mistaken."
+
+"Well, I am glad of it," said Mary, looking relieved, and gazing in the
+brook. Then looking up with warmth, "and, cousin, you never must think
+so. I am ardent, and I express myself freely; but I never meant, I am
+sure I never _should_ mean, any thing more than a sister might say."
+
+"And are you sure you never could, if all my happiness depended on it,
+Mary?"
+
+She turned and looked up in his face, and saw a look that brought
+conviction. She rose to go on, and her hand was taken and drawn into the
+arm of her cousin, and that was the end of the first and the last
+difficulty that ever arose between them.
+
+
+
+
+THE MINISTRATION OF OUR DEPARTED FRIENDS.
+
+A NEW YEAR'S REVERY.
+
+
+    "It is a beautiful belief,
+        That ever round our head
+    Are hovering on viewless wings
+        The spirits of the dead."
+
+While every year is taking one and another from the ranks of life and
+usefulness, or the charmed circle of friendship and love, it is soothing
+to remember that the spiritual world is gaining in riches through the
+poverty of this.
+
+In early life, with our friends all around us,--hearing their voices,
+cheered by their smiles,--death and the spiritual world are to us
+remote, misty, and half-fabulous; but as we advance in our journey, and
+voice after voice is hushed, and form after form vanishes from our side,
+and our shadow falls almost solitary on the hillside of life, the soul,
+by a necessity of its being, tends to the unseen and spiritual, and
+pursues in another life those it seeks in vain in this.
+
+For with every friend that dies, dies also some especial form of social
+enjoyment, whose being depended on the peculiar character of that
+friend; till, late in the afternoon of life, the pilgrim seems to
+himself to have passed over to the unseen world in successive portions
+half his own spirit; and poor indeed is he who has not familiarized
+himself with that unknown, whither, despite himself, his soul is
+earnestly tending.
+
+One of the deepest and most imperative cravings of the human heart, as
+it follows its beloved ones beyond the veil, is for some assurance that
+they still love and care for us. Could we firmly believe this,
+bereavement would lose half its bitterness. As a German writer
+beautifully expresses it, "Our friend is not wholly gone from us; we see
+across the river of death, in the blue distance, the smoke of his
+cottage;" hence the heart, always creating what it desires, has ever
+made the guardianship and ministration of departed spirits a favorite
+theme of poetic fiction.
+
+But is it, then, fiction? Does revelation, which gives so many hopes
+which nature had not, give none here? Is there no sober certainty to
+correspond to the inborn and passionate craving of the soul? Do departed
+spirits in verity retain any knowledge of what transpires in this world,
+and take any part in its scenes? All that revelation says of a spiritual
+state is more intimation than assertion; it has no distinct treatise,
+and teaches nothing apparently of set purpose; but gives vague, glorious
+images, while now and then some accidental ray of intelligence looks
+out,--
+
+    "----like eyes of cherubs shining
+      From out the veil that hid the ark."
+
+But out of all the different hints and assertions of the Bible we think
+a better inferential argument might be constructed to prove the
+ministration of departed spirits than for many a doctrine which has
+passed in its day for the height of orthodoxy.
+
+First, then, the Bible distinctly says that there is a class of
+invisible spirits who minister to the children of men: "Are they not all
+ministering spirits, sent forth to minister to those who shall be heirs
+of salvation?" It is said of little children, that "their angels do
+always behold the face of our Father which is in heaven." This last
+passage, from the words of our Savior, taken in connection with the
+well-known tradition of his time, fully recognizes the idea of
+individual guardian spirits; for God's government over mind is, it
+seems, throughout, one of intermediate agencies, and these not chosen at
+random, but with the nicest reference to their adaptation to the purpose
+intended. Not even the All-seeing, All-knowing One was deemed perfectly
+adapted to become a human Savior without a human experience. Knowledge
+intuitive, gained from above, of human wants and woes was not enough--to
+it must be added the home-born certainty of consciousness and memory;
+the Head of all mediation must become human. Is it likely, then, that,
+in selecting subordinate agencies, this so necessary a requisite of a
+human life and experience is overlooked? While around the throne of God
+stand spirits, now sainted and glorified, yet thrillingly conscious of a
+past experience of sin and sorrow, and trembling in sympathy with
+temptations and struggles like their own, is it likely that he would
+pass by these souls, thus burning for the work, and commit it to those
+bright abstract beings whose knowledge and experience are comparatively
+so distant and so cold?
+
+It is strongly in confirmation of this idea, that in the transfiguration
+scene--which seems to have been intended purposely to give the disciples
+a glimpse of the glorified state of their Master--we find him attended
+by two spirits of earth, Moses and Elias, "which appeared with him in
+glory, and spake of his death which he should accomplish at Jerusalem."
+It appears that these so long departed ones were still mingling in deep
+sympathy with the tide of human affairs--not only aware of the present,
+but also informed as to the future. In coincidence with this idea are
+all those passages which speak of the redeemed of earth as being closely
+and indissolubly identified with Christ, members of his body, of his
+flesh and his bones. It is not to be supposed that those united to Jesus
+above all others by so vivid a sympathy and community of interests are
+left out as instruments in that great work of human regeneration which
+so engrosses him; and when we hear Christians spoken of as kings and
+priests unto God, as those who shall judge angels, we see it more than
+intimated that they are to be the partners and actors in that great work
+of spiritual regeneration of which Jesus is the head.
+
+What then? May we look among the band of ministering spirits for our own
+departed ones? Whom would God be more likely to send us? Have we in
+heaven a friend who knew us to the heart's core? a friend to whom we
+have unfolded our soul in its most secret recesses? to whom we have
+confessed our weaknesses and deplored our griefs? If we are to have a
+ministering spirit, who better adapted? Have we not memories which
+correspond to such a belief? When our soul has been cast down, has never
+an invisible voice whispered, "There is lifting up"? Have not gales and
+breezes of sweet and healing thought been wafted over us, as if an angel
+had shaken from his wings the odors of paradise? Many a one, we are
+confident, can remember such things--and whence come they? Why do the
+children of the pious mother, whose grave has grown green and smooth
+with years, seem often to walk through perils and dangers fearful and
+imminent as the crossing Mohammed's fiery gulf on the edge of a drawn
+sword, yet walk unhurt? Ah! could we see that attendant form, that face
+where the angel conceals not the mother, our question would be answered.
+
+It may be possible that a friend is sometimes taken because the Divine
+One sees that his ministry can act more powerfully from the unseen world
+than amid the infirmities of mortal intercourse. Here the soul,
+distracted and hemmed in by human events and by bodily infirmities,
+often scarce knows itself, and makes no impression on others
+correspondent to its desires. The mother would fain electrify the heart
+of her child; she yearns and burns in vain to make her soul effective on
+its soul, and to inspire it with a spiritual and holy life; but all her
+own weaknesses, faults, and mortal cares cramp and confine her, till
+death breaks all fetters; and then, first truly alive, risen, purified,
+and at rest, she may do calmly, sweetly, and certainly, what, amid the
+tempests and tossings of life, she labored for painfully and fitfully.
+So, also, to generous souls, who burn for the good of man, who deplore
+the shortness of life, and the little that is permitted to any
+individual agency on earth, does this belief open a heavenly field.
+Think not, father or brother, long laboring for man, till thy sun stands
+on the western mountains,--think not that thy day in this world is over.
+Perhaps, like Jesus, thou hast lived a human life, and gained a human
+experience, to become, under and like him, a savior of thousands; thou
+hast been through the preparation, but thy real work of good, thy full
+power of doing, is yet to begin.
+
+But again: there are some spirits (and those of earth's choicest) to
+whom, so far as enjoyment to themselves or others is concerned, this
+life seems to have been a total failure. A hard hand from the first, and
+all the way through life, seems to have been laid upon them; they seem
+to live only to be chastened and crushed, and we lay them in the grave
+at last in mournful silence. To such, what a vision is opened by this
+belief! This hard discipline has been the school and task-work by which
+their soul has been fitted for their invisible labors in a future life;
+and when they pass the gates of the grave, their course of benevolent
+acting first begins, and they find themselves delighted possessors of
+what through many years they have sighed for--the power of doing good.
+The year just past, like all other years, has taken from a thousand
+circles the sainted, the just, and the beloved; there are spots in a
+thousand graveyards which have become this year dearer than all the
+living world; but in the loneliness of sorrow how cheering to think that
+our lost ones are not wholly gone from us! They still may move about in
+our homes, shedding around an atmosphere of purity and peace, promptings
+of good, and reproofs of evil. We are compassed about by a cloud of
+witnesses, whose hearts throb in sympathy with every effort and
+struggle, and who thrill with joy at every success. How should this
+thought check and rebuke every worldly feeling and unworthy purpose, and
+enshrine us, in the midst of a forgetful and unspiritual world, with an
+atmosphere of heavenly peace! They have overcome--have risen--are
+crowned, glorified; but still they remain to us, our assistants, our
+comforters, and in every hour of darkness their voice speaks to us: "So
+we grieved, so we struggled, so we fainted, so we doubted; but we have
+overcome, we have obtained, we have seen, we have found--and in our
+victory behold the certainty of thy own."
+
+
+
+
+MRS. A. AND MRS. B.;
+
+OR, WHAT SHE THINKS ABOUT IT.
+
+
+Mrs. A. and Mrs. B. were next-door neighbors and intimate friends--that
+is to say, they took tea with each other very often, and, in
+confidential strains, discoursed of stockings and pocket handkerchiefs,
+of puddings and carpets, of cookery and domestic economy, through all
+its branches.
+
+"I think, on the whole," said Mrs. A., with an air of profound
+reflection, "that gingerbread is the cheapest and healthiest cake one
+can make. I make a good deal of it, and let my children have as much as
+they want of it."
+
+"I used to do so," said Mrs. B., "but I haven't had any made these two
+months."
+
+"Ah! Why not?" said Mrs. A.
+
+"Why, it is some trouble; and then, though it is cheap, it is cheaper
+not to have any; and, on the whole, the children are quite as well
+contented without it, and so we are fallen into the way of not having
+any."
+
+"But one must keep some kind of cake in the house," said Mrs. A.
+
+"So I have always heard, and thought, and practised," said Mrs. B.; "but
+really of late I have questioned the need of it."
+
+The conversation gradually digressed from this point into various
+intricate speculations on domestic economy, and at last each lady went
+home to put her children to bed.
+
+A fortnight after, the two ladies were again in conclave at Mrs. B.'s
+tea table, which was graced by some unusually nice gingerbread.
+
+"I thought you had given up making gingerbread," said Mrs. A.; "you told
+me so a fortnight ago at my house."
+
+"So I had," said Mrs. A.; "but since that conversation I have been
+making it again."
+
+"Why so?"
+
+"O, I thought that since you thought it economical enough, certainly I
+might; and that if you thought it necessary to keep some sort of cake in
+the closet, perhaps it was best I should."
+
+Mrs. A. laughed.
+
+"Well, now," said she, "I have _not_ made any gingerbread, or cake of
+any kind, since that same conversation."
+
+"Indeed?"
+
+"No. I said to myself, If Mrs. B. thinks it will do to go without cake
+in the house, I suppose I might, as she says it _is_ some additional
+expense and trouble; and so I gave it up."
+
+Both ladies laughed, and you laugh, too, my dear lady reader; but have
+you never done the same thing? Have you never altered your dress, or
+your arrangements, or your housekeeping because somebody else was of a
+different way of thinking or managing--and may not that very somebody at
+the same time have been moved to make some change through a similar
+observation on you?
+
+A large party is to be given by the young lads of N. to the young
+lassies of the same place; they are to drive out together to a picnic in
+the woods, and to come home by moonlight; the weather is damp and
+uncertain, the ground chill, and young people, as in all ages before the
+flood and since, not famous for the grace of prudence; for all which
+reasons, almost every mamma hesitates about her daughters' going--thinks
+it a very great pity the thing has been started.
+
+"I really don't like this thing," says Mrs. G.; "it's not a kind of
+thing that I approve of, and if Mrs. X. was not going to let her
+daughters go, I should set myself against it. How Mrs. X., who is so
+very nice in her notions, can sanction such a thing, I cannot see. I am
+really surprised at Mrs. X."
+
+All this time, poor unconscious Mrs. X. is in a similar tribulation.
+
+"This is a very disagreeable affair to me," she says. "I really have
+almost a mind to say that my girls shall not go; but Mrs. G.'s daughters
+are going, and Mrs. C.'s, and Mrs. W.'s, and of course it would be idle
+for me to oppose it. I should not like to cast any reflections on a
+course sanctioned by ladies of such prudence and discretion."
+
+In the same manner Mrs. A., B., and C., and the good matrons through the
+alphabet generally, with doleful lamentations, each one consents to the
+thing that she allows not, and the affair proceeds swimmingly to the
+great satisfaction of the juveniles.
+
+Now and then, it is true, some individual sort of body, who might be
+designated by the angular and decided letters K or L, says to her son or
+daughter, "No. I don't approve of the thing," and is deaf to the
+oft-urged, "Mrs. A., B., and C. do so."
+
+"I have nothing to do with Mrs. A., B., and C.'s arrangements," says
+this impracticable Mrs. K. or L. "I only know what is best for my
+children, and they shall not go."
+
+Again: Mrs. G. is going to give a party; and, now, shall she give wine,
+or not? Mrs. G. has heard an abundance of temperance speeches and
+appeals, heard the duties of ladies in the matter of sanctioning
+temperance movements aptly set forth, but "none of these things move her
+half so much as another consideration." She has heard that Mrs. D.
+introduced wine into her last _soiree_. Mrs. D's husband has been a
+leading orator of the temperance society, and Mrs. D. is no less a
+leading member in the circles of fashion. Now, Mrs. G.'s soul is in
+great perplexity. If she only could be sure that the report about Mrs.
+D. is authentic, why, then, of course the thing is settled; regret it as
+much as she may, she cannot get through her party without the wine; and
+so at last come the party and the wine. Mrs. D., who was incorrectly
+stated to have had the article at her last _soiree_, has it at her next
+one, and quotes discreet Mrs. G. as her precedent. Mrs. P. is greatly
+scandalized at this, because Mrs. G. is a member of the church, and Mr.
+D. a leading temperance orator; but since _they will do it_, it is not
+for her to be nice, and so she follows the fashion.
+
+Mrs. N. comes home from church on Sunday, rolling up her eyes with
+various appearances of horror and surprise.
+
+"Well! I am going to give up trying to restrain my girls from dressing
+extravagantly; it's of no use trying!--no use in the world."
+
+"Why, mother, what's the matter?" exclaimed the girls aforesaid,
+delighted to hear such encouraging declarations.
+
+"Why, didn't you see Mrs. K.'s daughters sitting in the pew before us
+with _feathers_ in their bonnets? If Mrs. K. is coming out in this way,
+_I_ shall give up. I shan't try any longer. I am going to get just what
+I want, and dress as much as I've a mind to. Girls, you may get those
+visites that you were looking at at Mr. B.'s store last week!"
+
+The next Sunday, Mrs. K.'s girls in turn begin:--
+
+"There, mamma, you are always lecturing us about economy, and all that,
+and wanting us to wear our old mantillas another winter, and there are
+Mrs. N.'s girls shining out in new visites."
+
+Mamma looks sensible and judicious, and tells the girls they ought not
+to see what people are wearing in church on Sundays; but it becomes
+evident, before the week is through, that she has not forgotten the
+observation. She is anxiously pricing visites, and looking thoughtful as
+one on the eve of an important determination; and the next Sunday the
+girls appear in full splendor, with new visites, to the increasing
+horror of Mrs. N.
+
+So goes the shuttlecock back and forward, kept up on both sides by most
+judicious hands.
+
+In like manner, at a modern party, a circle of matrons sit in edifying
+conclave, and lament the degeneracy of the age.
+
+"These parties that begin at nine o'clock and end at two or three in the
+morning are shameful things," says fat Mrs. Q., complacently fanning
+herself. (N. B. Mrs. Q. is plotting to have one the very next week, and
+has come just to see the fashions.)
+
+"O, dreadful, dreadful!" exclaim, in one chorus, meek Mrs. M., and tall
+Mrs. F., and stiff Mrs. J.
+
+"They are very unhealthy," says Mrs. F.
+
+"They disturb all family order," says Mrs. J.
+
+"They make one so sleepy the next day," says Mrs. M.
+
+"They are very laborious to get up, and entirely useless," says Mrs. Q.;
+at the same time counting across the room the people that she shall
+invite next week.
+
+Mrs. M. and Mrs. F. diverge into a most edifying strain of moral
+reflections on the improvement of time, the necessity of sobriety and
+moderation, the evils of conformity to the world, till one is tempted to
+feel that the tract society ought to have their remarks for general
+circulation, were one not damped by the certain knowledge that before
+the winter is out each of these ladies will give exactly such another
+party.
+
+And, now, are all these respectable ladies hypocritical or insincere? By
+no means--they believe every word they say; but a sort of necessity is
+laid upon them--a spell; and before the breath of the multitude their
+individual resolution melts away as the frosty tracery melts from the
+window panes of a crowded room.
+
+A great many do this habitually, resignedly, as a matter of course. Ask
+them what they think to be right and proper, and they will tell you
+sensibly, coherently, and quite to the point in one direction; ask them
+what they are going to do. Ah! that is quite another matter.
+
+They are going to do what is generally done--what Mrs. A., B., and C.
+do. They have long since made over their conscience to the keeping of
+the public,--that is to say, of good society,--and are thus rid of a
+troublesome burden of responsibility.
+
+Again, there are others who mean in general to have an opinion and will
+of their own; but, imperceptibly, as one and another take a course
+opposed to their own sense of right and propriety, their resolution
+quietly melts, and melts, till every individual outline of it is gone,
+and they do as others do.
+
+Yet is this influence of one human being over another--in some sense,
+God-appointed--a necessary result of the human constitution. There is
+scarcely a human being that is not varied and swerved by it, as the
+trembling needle is swerved by the approaching magnet. Oppose conflict
+with it, as one may at a distance, yet when it breathes on us through
+the breath, and shines on us through the eye of an associate, it
+possesses an invisible magnetic power. He who is not at all conscious of
+such impressibility can scarce be amiable or human. Nevertheless, one of
+the most important habits for the acquisition of a generous and noble
+character, is to learn to act _individually_, unswerved by the feelings
+and opinions of others. It may help us to do this, to reflect that the
+very person whose opinion we fear may be in equal dread of ours, and
+that the person to whom we are looking for a precedent may, at that very
+time, be looking to us.
+
+In short, Mrs. A., if you think that you could spend your money more
+like a Christian than in laying it out on a fashionable party, go
+forward and do it, and twenty others, whose supposed opinion you fear,
+will be glad of your example for a precedent. And, Mrs. B., if you do
+think it would be better for your children to observe early hours, and
+form simple habits, than to dress and dance, and give and go to juvenile
+balls, carry out your opinion in practice, and many an anxious mother,
+who is of the same opinion, will quote your example as her shield and
+defence.
+
+And for you, young ladies, let us pray you to reflect--_individuality of
+character_, maintained with womanly sweetness, is an irresistible grace
+and adornment. Have some principles of taste for yourself, and do not
+adopt every fashion of dress that is in vogue, whether it suits you or
+not--whether it is becoming or not--but, without a startling variation
+from general form, let your dress show something of your own taste and
+opinions. Have some principles of right and wrong for yourself, and do
+not do every thing that every one else does, _because_ every one else
+does it.
+
+Nothing is more tedious than a circle of young ladies who have got by
+rote a certain set of phrases and opinions--all admiring in the same
+terms the same things, and detesting in like terms certain others--with
+anxious solicitude each dressing, thinking, and acting, one as much like
+another as is possible. A genuine original opinion, even though it were
+so heretical as to assert that Jenny Lind is a little lower than the
+angels, or that Shakspeare is rather dull reading, would be better than
+such a universal Dead Sea of acquiescence.
+
+These remarks have borne reference to the female sex principally,
+because they are the dependent, the acquiescent sex--from nature, and
+habit, and position, most exposed to be swayed by opinion--and yet, too,
+in a certain very wide department they are the lawgivers and
+custom-makers of society. If, amid the multiplied schools, whose
+advertisements now throng our papers, purporting to teach girls every
+thing, both ancient and modern, high and low, from playing on the harp
+and working pincushions, up to civil engineering, surveying, and
+navigation, there were any which could teach them to be women--to have
+thoughts, opinions, and modes of action of their own--such a school
+would be worth having. If one half of the good purposes which are in the
+hearts of the ladies of our nation were only acted out without fear of
+any body's opinion, we should certainly be a step nearer the millennium.
+
+
+
+
+CHRISTMAS; OR, THE GOOD FAIRY.
+
+
+"O, dear! Christmas is coming in a fortnight, and I have got to think up
+presents for every body!" said young Ellen Stuart, as she leaned
+languidly back in her chair. "Dear me, it's so tedious! Every body has
+got every thing that can be thought of."
+
+"O, no," said her confidential adviser, Miss Lester, in a soothing tone.
+"You have means of buying every thing you can fancy; and when every shop
+and store is glittering with all manner of splendors, you cannot surely
+be at a loss."
+
+"Well, now, just listen. To begin with, there's mamma. What can I get
+for her? I have thought of ever so many things. She has three card
+cases, four gold thimbles, two or three gold chains, two writing desks
+of different patterns; and then as to rings, brooches, boxes, and all
+other things, I should think she might be sick of the sight of them. I
+am sure I am," said she, languidly gazing on her white and jewelled
+fingers.
+
+This view of the case seemed rather puzzling to the adviser, and there
+was silence for a few moments, when Ellen, yawning, resumed:--
+
+"And then there's Cousins Jane and Mary; I suppose they will be coming
+down on me with a whole load of presents; and Mrs. B. will send me
+something--she did last year; and then there's Cousins William and
+Tom--I must get them something; and I would like to do it well enough,
+if I only knew what to get."
+
+"Well," said Eleanor's aunt, who had been sitting quietly rattling her
+knitting needles during this speech, "it's a pity that you had not such
+a subject to practise on as I was when I was a girl. Presents did not
+fly about in those days as they do now. I remember, when I was ten years
+old, my father gave me a most marvellously ugly sugar dog for a
+Christmas gift, and I was perfectly delighted with it, the very idea of
+a present was so new to us."
+
+"Dear aunt, how delighted I should be if I had any such fresh,
+unsophisticated body to get presents for! But to get and get for people
+that have more than they know what to do with now; to add pictures,
+books, and gilding when the centre tables are loaded with them now, and
+rings and jewels when they are a perfect drug! I wish myself that I were
+not sick, and sated, and tired with having every thing in the world
+given me."
+
+"Well, Eleanor," said her aunt, "if you really do want unsophisticated
+subjects to practise on, I can put you in the way of it. I can show you
+more than one family to whom you might seem to be a very good fairy, and
+where such gifts as you could give with all ease would seem like a magic
+dream."
+
+"Why, that would really be worth while, aunt."
+
+"Look over in that back alley," said her aunt. "You see those
+buildings?"
+
+"That miserable row of shanties? Yes."
+
+"Well, I have several acquaintances there who have never been tired of
+Christmas gifts, or gifts of any other kind. I assure you, you could
+make quite a sensation over there."
+
+"Well, who is there? Let us know."
+
+"Do you remember Owen, that used to make your shoes?"
+
+"Yes, I remember something about him."
+
+"Well, he has fallen into a consumption, and cannot work any more; and
+he, and his wife, and three little children live in one of the rooms."
+
+"How do they get along?"
+
+"His wife takes in sewing sometimes, and sometimes goes out washing.
+Poor Owen! I was over there yesterday; he looks thin and wasted, and his
+wife was saying that he was parched with constant fever, and had very
+little appetite. She had, with great self-denial, and by restricting
+herself almost of necessary food, got him two or three oranges; and the
+poor fellow seemed so eager after them!"
+
+"Poor fellow!" said Eleanor, involuntarily.
+
+"Now," said her aunt, "suppose Owen's wife should get up on Christmas
+morning and find at the door a couple of dozen of oranges, and some of
+those nice white grapes, such as you had at your party last week; don't
+you think it would make a sensation?"
+
+"Why, yes, I think very likely it might; but who else, aunt? You spoke
+of a great many."
+
+"Well, on the lower floor there is a neat little room, that is always
+kept perfectly trim and tidy; it belongs to a young couple who have
+nothing beyond the husband's day wages to live on. They are,
+nevertheless, as cheerful and chipper as a couple of wrens; and she is
+up and down half a dozen times a day, to help poor Mrs. Owen. She has a
+baby of her own, about five months old, and of course does all the
+cooking, washing, and ironing for herself and husband; and yet, when
+Mrs. Owen goes out to wash, she takes her baby, and keeps it whole days
+for her."
+
+"I'm sure she deserves that the good fairies should smile on her," said
+Eleanor; "one baby exhausts my stock of virtues very rapidly."
+
+"But you ought to see her baby," said Aunt E.; "so plump, so rosy, and
+good-natured, and always clean as a lily. This baby is a sort of
+household shrine; nothing is too sacred or too good for it; and I
+believe the little thrifty woman feels only one temptation to be
+extravagant, and that is to get some ornaments to adorn this little
+divinity."
+
+"Why, did she ever tell you so?"
+
+"No; but one day, when I was coming down stairs, the door of their room
+was partly open, and I saw a pedler there with open box. John, the
+husband, was standing with a little purple cap on his hand, which he was
+regarding with mystified, admiring air, as if he didn't quite comprehend
+it, and trim little Mary gazing at it with longing eyes.
+
+"'I think we might get it,' said John.
+
+"'O, no,' said she, regretfully; 'yet I wish we could, it's _so
+pretty_!'"
+
+"Say no more, aunt. I see the good fairy must pop a cap into the window
+on Christmas morning. Indeed, it shall be done. How they will wonder
+where it came from, and talk about it for months to come!"
+
+"Well, then," continued her aunt, "in the next street to ours there is a
+miserable building, that looks as if it were just going to topple over;
+and away up in the third story, in a little room just under the eaves,
+live two poor, lonely old women. They are both nearly on to ninety. I
+was in there day before yesterday. One of them is constantly confined to
+her bed with rheumatism; the other, weak and feeble, with failing sight
+and trembling hands, totters about, her only helper; and they are
+entirely dependent on charity."
+
+"Can't they do any thing? Can't they knit?" said Eleanor.
+
+"You are young and strong, Eleanor, and have quick eyes and nimble
+fingers; how long would it take you to knit a pair of stockings?"
+
+"I?" said Eleanor. "What an idea! I never tried, but I think I could get
+a pair done in a week, perhaps."
+
+"And if somebody gave you twenty-five cents for them, and out of this
+you had to get food, and pay room rent, and buy coal for your fire, and
+oil for your lamp----"
+
+"Stop, aunt, for pity's sake!"
+
+"Well, I will stop; but they can't: they must pay so much every month
+for that miserable shell they live in, or be turned into the street. The
+meal and flour that some kind person sends goes off for them just as it
+does for others, and they must get more or starve; and coal is now
+scarce and high priced."
+
+"O aunt, I'm quite convinced, I'm sure; don't run me down and annihilate
+me with all these terrible realities. What shall I do to play good fairy
+to these poor old women?"
+
+"If you will give me full power, Eleanor, I will put up a basket to be
+sent to them that will give them something to remember all winter."
+
+"O, certainly I will. Let me see if I can't think of something myself."
+
+"Well, Eleanor, suppose, then, some fifty or sixty years hence, _if_ you
+were old, and your father, and mother, and aunts, and uncles, now so
+thick around you, lay cold and silent in so many graves--you have
+somehow got away off to a strange city, where you were never known--you
+live in a miserable garret, where snow blows at night through the
+cracks, and the fire is very apt to go out in the old cracked stove--you
+sit crouching over the dying embers the evening before Christmas--nobody
+to speak to you, nobody to care for you, except another poor old soul
+who lies moaning in the bed. Now, what would you like to have sent you?"
+
+"O aunt, what a dismal picture!"
+
+"And yet, Ella, all poor, forsaken old women are made of young girls,
+who expected it in their youth as little as you do, perhaps."
+
+"Say no more, aunt. I'll buy--let me see--a comfortable warm shawl for
+each of these poor women; and I'll send them--let me see--O, some
+tea--nothing goes down with old women like tea; and I'll make John wheel
+some coal over to them; and, aunt, it would not be a very bad thought to
+send them a new stove. I remember, the other day, when mamma was pricing
+stoves, I saw some such nice ones for two or three dollars."
+
+"For a new hand, Ella, you work up the idea very well," said her aunt.
+
+"But how much ought I to give, for any one case, to these women, say?"
+
+"How much did you give last year for any single Christmas present?"
+
+"Why, six or seven dollars for some; those elegant souvenirs were seven
+dollars; that ring I gave Mrs. B. was twenty."
+
+"And do you suppose Mrs. B. was any happier for it?"
+
+"No, really, I don't think she cared much about it; but I had to give
+her something, because she had sent me something the year before, and I
+did not want to send a paltry present to one in her circumstances."
+
+"Then, Ella, give the same to any poor, distressed, suffering creature
+who really needs it, and see in how many forms of good such a sum will
+appear. That one hard, cold, glittering ring, that now cheers nobody,
+and means nothing, that you give because you must, and she takes because
+she must, might, if broken up into smaller sums, send real warm and
+heartfelt gladness through many a cold and cheerless dwelling, through
+many an aching heart."
+
+"You are getting to be an orator, aunt; but don't you approve of
+Christmas presents, among friends and equals?"
+
+"Yes, indeed," said her aunt, fondly stroking her head. "I have had some
+Christmas presents that did me a world of good--a little book mark, for
+instance, that a certain niece of mine worked for me, with wonderful
+secrecy, three years ago, when she was not a young lady with a purse
+full of money--that book mark was a true Christmas present; and my young
+couple across the way are plotting a profound surprise to each other on
+Christmas morning. John has contrived, by an hour of extra work every
+night, to lay by enough to get Mary a new calico dress; and she, poor
+soul, has bargained away the only thing in the jewelry line she ever
+possessed, to be laid out on a new hat for him.
+
+"I know, too, a washerwoman who has a poor, lame boy--a patient, gentle
+little fellow--who has lain quietly for weeks and months in his little
+crib, and his mother is going to give him a splendid Christmas present."
+
+"What is it, pray?"
+
+"A whole orange! Don't laugh. She will pay ten whole cents for it; for
+it shall be none of your common oranges, but a picked one of the very
+best going! She has put by the money, a cent at a time, for a whole
+month; and nobody knows which will be happiest in it, Willie or his
+mother. These are such Christmas presents as I like to think of--gifts
+coming from love, and tending to produce love; these are the appropriate
+gifts of the day."
+
+"But don't you think that it's right for those who _have_ money to give
+expensive presents, supposing always, as you say, they are given from
+real affection?"
+
+"Sometimes, undoubtedly. The Savior did not condemn her who broke an
+alabaster box of ointment--_very precious_--simply as a proof of love,
+even although the suggestion was made, 'This might have been sold for
+three hundred pence, and given to the poor.' I have thought he would
+regard with sympathy the fond efforts which human love sometimes makes
+to express itself by gifts, the rarest and most costly. How I rejoiced
+with all my heart, when Charles Elton gave his poor mother that splendid
+Chinese shawl and gold watch! because I knew they came from the very
+fulness of his heart to a mother that he could not do too much for--a
+mother that has done and suffered every thing for him. In some such
+cases, when resources are ample, a costly gift seems to have a graceful
+appropriateness; but I cannot approve of it if it exhausts all the means
+of doing for the poor; it is better, then, to give a simple offering,
+and to do something for those who really need it."
+
+Eleanor looked thoughtful; her aunt laid down her knitting, and said, in
+a tone of gentle seriousness, "Whose birth does Christmas commemorate,
+Ella?"
+
+"Our Savior's, certainly, aunt."
+
+"Yes," said her aunt. "And when and how was he born? In a stable! laid
+in a manger; thus born, that in all ages he might be known as the
+brother and friend of the poor. And surely, it seems but appropriate to
+commemorate his birthday by an especial remembrance of the lowly, the
+poor, the outcast, and distressed; and if Christ should come back to our
+city on a Christmas day, where should we think it most appropriate to
+his character to find him? Would he be carrying splendid gifts to
+splendid dwellings, or would he be gliding about in the cheerless haunts
+of the desolate, the poor, the forsaken, and the sorrowful?"
+
+And here the conversation ended.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"What sort of Christmas presents is Ella buying?" said Cousin Tom, as
+the waiter handed in a portentous-looking package, which had been just
+rung in at the door.
+
+"Let's open it," said saucy Will. "Upon my word, two great gray blanket
+shawls! These must be for you and me, Tom! And what's this? A great bolt
+of cotton flannel and gray yarn stockings!"
+
+The door bell rang again, and the waiter brought in another bulky
+parcel, and deposited it on the marble-topped centre table.
+
+"What's here?" said Will, cutting the cord. "Whew! a perfect nest of
+packages! oolong tea! oranges! grapes! white sugar! Bless me, Ella must
+be going to housekeeping!"
+
+"Or going crazy!" said Tom; "and on my word," said he, looking out of
+the window, "there's a drayman ringing at our door, with a stove, with a
+teakettle set in the top of it!"
+
+"Ella's cook stove, of course," said Will; and just at this moment the
+young lady entered, with her purse hanging gracefully over her hand.
+
+"Now, boys, you are too bad!" she exclaimed, as each of the mischievous
+youngsters were gravely marching up and down, attired in a gray shawl.
+
+"Didn't you get them for us? We thought you did," said both.
+
+"Ella, I want some of that cotton flannel, to make me a pair of
+pantaloons," said Tom.
+
+"I say, Ella," said Will, "when are you going to housekeeping? Your
+cooking stove is standing down in the street; 'pon my word, John is
+loading some coal on the dray with it."
+
+"Ella, isn't that going to be sent to my office?" said Tom; "do you know
+I do so languish for a new stove with a teakettle in the top, to heat a
+fellow's shaving water!"
+
+Just then, another ring at the door, and the grinning waiter handed in a
+small brown paper parcel for Miss Ella. Tom made a dive at it, and
+staving off the brown paper, developed a jaunty little purple velvet
+cap, with silver tassels.
+
+"My smoking cap, as I live!" said he; "only I shall have to wear it on
+my thumb, instead of my head--too small entirely," said he, shaking his
+head gravely.
+
+"Come, you saucy boys," said Aunt E., entering briskly, "what are you
+teasing Ella for?"
+
+"Why, do see this lot of things, aunt! What in the world is Ella going
+to do with them?"
+
+"O, I know!"
+
+"You know! Then I can guess, aunt, it is some of your charitable works.
+You are going to make a juvenile Lady Bountiful of El, eh?"
+
+Ella, who had colored to the roots of her hair at the _expose_ of her
+very unfashionable Christmas preparations, now took heart, and bestowed
+a very gentle and salutary little cuff on the saucy head that still wore
+the purple cap, and then hastened to gather up her various purchases.
+
+"Laugh away," said she, gayly; "and a good many others will laugh, too,
+over these things. I got them to make people laugh--people that are not
+in the habit of laughing!"
+
+"Well, well, I see into it," said Will; "and I tell you I think right
+well of the idea, too. There are worlds of money wasted, at this time of
+the year, in getting things that nobody wants, and nobody cares for
+after they are got; and I am glad, for my part, that you are going to
+get up a variety in this line; in fact, I should like to give you one of
+these stray leaves to help on," said he, dropping a ten dollar note into
+her paper. "I like to encourage girls to think of something besides
+breastpins and sugar candy."
+
+But our story spins on too long. If any body wants to see the results of
+Ella's first attempts at _good fairyism_, they can call at the doors of
+two or three old buildings on Christmas morning, and they shall hear all
+about it.
+
+
+
+
+EARTHLY CARE A HEAVENLY DISCIPLINE.
+
+
+    "Why should these cares my heart divide,
+      If Thou, indeed, hast set me free?
+    Why am I thus, if Thou hast died--
+      If Thou hast died to ransom me?"
+
+Nothing is more frequently felt and spoken of, as a hinderance to the
+inward life of devotion, than the "cares of life;" and even upon the
+showing of our Lord himself, the cares of the world are the _thorns_
+that choke the word, and it becometh unfruitful.
+
+And yet, if this is a necessary and inevitable result of worldly care,
+why does the providence of God so order things that it forms so large
+and unavoidable a part of every human experience? Why is the physical
+system of man arranged with such daily, oft-recurring wants? Why does
+his nature, in its full development, tend to that state of society in
+which wants multiply, and the business of supply becomes more
+complicated, and requiring constantly more thought and attention, and
+bringing the outward and seen into a state of constant friction and
+pressure on the inner and spiritual?
+
+Has God arranged an outward system to be a constant diversion from the
+inward--a weight on its wheels--a burden on its wings--and then
+commanded a strict and rigid inwardness and spirituality? Why placed us
+where the things that are seen and temporal must unavoidably have so
+much of our thoughts, and time, and care, yet said to us, "Set your
+affections on things above, and not on things on the earth. Love not the
+world, neither the things of the world"? And why does one of our
+brightest examples of Christian experience, as it should be, say, "While
+we look not on the things which are seen, but on the things which are
+not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things
+that are not seen are eternal"?
+
+The Bible tells us that our whole existence here is a disciplinary one;
+that this whole physical system, by which our spirit is enclosed with
+all the joys and sorrows, hopes and fears, and wants which form a part
+of it, are designed as an education to fit the soul for its immortality;
+and as worldly care forms the greater part of the staple of every human
+life, there must be some mode of viewing and meeting it, which converts
+it from an enemy of spirituality into a means of grace and spiritual
+advancement.
+
+Why, then, do we so often hear the lamentation, "It seems to me as if I
+could advance to the higher stages of Christian life, if it were not for
+the pressure of my business and the multitude of my worldly cares"? Is
+it not God, O Christian, who, in ordering thy lot, has laid these cares
+upon thee, and who still holds them about thee, and permits no escape
+from them? And as his great, undivided object is thy spiritual
+improvement, is there not some misapprehension or wrong use of these
+cares, if they do not tend to advance it? Is it not even as if a scholar
+should say, I could advance in science were it not for all the time and
+care which lessons, and books, and lectures require?
+
+How, then, shall earthly care become heavenly discipline? How shall the
+disposition of the weight be altered so as to press the spirit upward
+towards God, instead of downward and away? How shall the pillar of cloud
+which rises between us and him become one of fire, to reflect upon us
+constantly the light of his countenance, and to guide us over the sands
+of life's desert?
+
+It appears to us that the great radical difficulty is an intellectual
+one, and lies in a wrong belief. There is not a genuine and real belief
+of the presence and agency of God in the minor events and details of
+life, which is necessary to change them from secular cares into
+spiritual blessings.
+
+It is true there is much loose talk about an overruling Providence; and
+yet, if fairly stated, the belief of a great many Christians might be
+thus expressed: God has organized and set in operation certain general
+laws of matter and mind, which work out the particular results of life,
+and over these laws he exercises a general supervision and care, so that
+all the great affairs of the world are carried on after the counsel of
+his own will; and in a certain general sense, all things are working
+together for good to those that love God. But when some simple-minded,
+childlike Christian really proceeds to refer all the smaller events of
+life to God's immediate care and agency, there is a smile of
+incredulity, and it is thought that the good brother displays more
+Christian feeling than sound philosophy.
+
+But as life for every individual is made up of fractions and minute
+atoms--as those things which go to affect habits and character are small
+and hourly recurring, it comes to pass that a belief in Providence so
+very wide and general, is altogether inefficient for consecrating and
+rendering sacred the great body of what comes in contact with the mind
+in the experience of life. Only once in years does the Christian with
+this kind of belief hear the voice of the Lord God speaking to him. When
+the hand of death is laid on his child, or the bolt strikes down the
+brother by his side, _then_, indeed, he feels that God is drawing near;
+he listens humbly for the inward voice that shall explain the meaning
+and need of this discipline. When by some unforeseen occurrence the
+whole of his earthly property is swept away,--he becomes a poor
+man,--this event, in his eyes, assumes sufficient magnitude to have come
+from God, and to have a design and meaning; but when smaller comforts
+are removed, smaller losses are encountered, and the petty, every-day
+vexations and annoyances of life press about him, he recognizes no God,
+and hears no voice, and sees no design. Hence John Newton says, "Many
+Christians, who bear the loss of a child, or the destruction of all
+their property, with the most heroic Christian fortitude, are entirely
+vanquished and overcome by the breaking of a dish, or the blunders of a
+servant, and show so unchristian a spirit, that we cannot but wonder at
+them."
+
+So when the breath of slander, or the pressure of human injustice, comes
+so heavily on a man as really to threaten loss of character, and
+destruction of his temporal interests, he seems forced to recognize the
+hand and voice of God, through the veil of human agencies, and in
+time-honored words to say,--
+
+    "When men of spite against me join,
+    They are the _sword_; the hand is thine."
+
+But the smaller injustice and fault-finding which meet every one more or
+less in the daily intercourse of life, the overheard remark, the implied
+censure, too petty, perhaps, to be even spoken of, these daily recurring
+sources of disquietude and unhappiness are not referred to God's
+providence, nor considered as a part of his probation and discipline.
+Those thousand vexations which come upon us through the
+unreasonableness, the carelessness, the various constitutional failings,
+or ill-adaptedness of others to our peculiarities of character, form a
+very large item of the disquietudes of life; and yet how very few look
+beyond the human agent, and feel these are trials coming from God! Yet
+it is true, in many cases, that these so called minor vexations form the
+greater part, and in many cases the only discipline of _life_; and to
+those that do not view them as ordered individually by God, and coming
+upon them by specified design, "their affliction 'really' cometh of the
+dust, and their trouble springs out of the ground;" it is sanctified and
+relieved by no divine presence and aid, but borne alone and in a mere
+human spirit, and by mere human reliances, it acts on the mind as a
+constant diversion and hinderance, instead of a moral discipline.
+
+Hence, too, come a coldness, and generality, and wandering of mind in
+prayer: the things that are on the heart, that are distracting the mind,
+that have filled the soul so full that there is no room for any thing
+else, are all considered too small and undignified to come within the
+pale of a prayer, and so, with a wandering mind and a distracted heart,
+the Christian offers up his prayer for things which he thinks he _ought_
+to want, and makes no mention of those which he _does_. He prays that
+God would pour out his spirit on the heathen, and convert the world, and
+build up his kingdom every where, when perhaps a whole set of little
+anxieties, and wants, and vexations are so distracting his thoughts,
+that he hardly knows what he has been saying: a faithless servant is
+wasting his property; a careless or blundering workman has spoiled a lot
+of goods; a child is vexatious or unruly; a friend has made promises and
+failed to keep them; an acquaintance has made unjust or satirical
+remarks; some new furniture has been damaged or ruined by carelessness
+in the household; but all this trouble forms no subject matter for
+prayer, though there it is, all the while lying like lead on the heart,
+and keeping it down, so that it has no power to expand and take in any
+thing else. But were God known and regarded as the soul's familiar
+friend, were every trouble of the heart as it rises, breathed into his
+bosom; were it felt that there is not one of the smallest of life's
+troubles that has not been permitted by him, and permitted for specific
+good purpose to the soul, how much more would these be in prayer! how
+constant, how daily might it become! how it might settle and clear the
+atmosphere of the soul! how it might so dispose and lay away many
+anxieties which now take up their place there, that there might be
+_room_ for the higher themes and considerations of religion!
+
+Many sensitive and fastidious natures are worn away by the constant
+friction of what are called _little troubles_. Without any great
+affliction, they feel that all the flower and sweetness of their life
+have faded; their eye grows dim, their cheek care-worn, and their spirit
+loses hope and elasticity, and becomes bowed with premature age; and in
+the midst of tangible and physical comfort, they are restless and
+unhappy. The constant under-current of little cares and vexations, which
+is slowly wearing on the finer springs of life, is seen by no one;
+scarce ever do they speak of these things to their nearest friends. Yet
+were there a friend of a spirit so discerning as to feel and sympathize
+in all these things, how much of this repressed electric restlessness
+would pass off through such a sympathizing mind.
+
+Yet among human friends this is all but impossible, for minds are so
+diverse that what is a trial and a care to one is a matter of sport and
+amusement to another; and all the inner world breathed into a human ear
+only excites a surprised or contemptuous pity. Whom, then, shall the
+soul turn to? Who will feel _that_ to be affliction which each spirit
+feels to be so? If the soul shut itself within itself, it becomes
+morbid; the fine chords of the mind and nerves by constant wear become
+jarring and discordant; hence fretfulness, discontent, and habitual
+irritability steal over the sincere Christian.
+
+But to the Christian that really believes in the agency of God in the
+smallest events of life, that confides in his love, and makes his
+sympathy his refuge, the thousand minute cares and perplexities of life
+become each one a fine affiliating bond between the soul and its God.
+God is known, not by abstract definition, and by high-raised conceptions
+of the soul's aspiring hours, but known as a man knoweth his friend; he
+is known by the hourly wants he supplies; known by every care with which
+he momentarily sympathizes, every apprehension which he relieves, every
+temptation which he enables us to surmount. We learn to know God as the
+infant child learns to know its mother and its father, by all the
+helplessness and all the dependence which are incident to this
+commencement of our moral existence; and as we go on thus year by year,
+and find in every changing situation, in every reverse, in every
+trouble, from the lightest sorrow to those which wring our soul from its
+depths, that he is equally present, and that his gracious aid is equally
+adequate, our faith seems gradually almost to change to sight; and God's
+existence, his love and care, seem to us more real than any other source
+of reliance, and multiplied cares and trials are only new avenues of
+acquaintance between us and heaven.
+
+Suppose, in some bright vision unfolding to our view, in tranquil
+evening or solemn midnight, the glorified form of some departed friend
+should appear to us with the announcement, "This year is to be to you
+one of especial probation and discipline, with reference to perfecting
+you for a heavenly state. Weigh well and consider every incident of your
+daily life, for not one shall fall out by accident, but each one is to
+be a finished and indispensable link in a bright chain that is to draw
+you upward to the skies!"
+
+With what new eyes should we now look on our daily lot! and if we found
+in it not a single change,--the same old cares, the same perplexities,
+the same uninteresting drudgeries still,--with what new meaning would
+every incident be invested! and with what other and sublimer spirit
+could we meet them? Yet, if announced by one rising from the dead with
+the visible glory of a spiritual world, this truth could be asserted no
+more clearly and distinctly than Jesus Christ has stated it already. Not
+a sparrow falleth to the ground without our Father. Not one of them is
+forgotten by him; and we are of more value than many sparrows; yea, even
+the hairs of our head are all numbered. Not till belief in these
+declarations, in their most literal sense, becomes the calm and settled
+habit of the soul, is life ever redeemed from drudgery and dreary
+emptiness, and made full of interest, meaning, and divine significance.
+Not till then do its grovelling wants, its wearing cares, its stinging
+vexations, become to us ministering spirits, each one, by a silent but
+certain agency, fitting us for a higher and perfect sphere.
+
+
+
+
+CONVERSATION ON CONVERSATION.
+
+
+     "For every idle word that men shall speak, they shall give account
+     thereof in the day of judgment."
+
+"A very solemn sermon," said Miss B., shaking her head impressively, as
+she sat down to table on Sunday noon; then giving a deep sigh, she
+added, "I am afraid that if an account is to be rendered for all our
+idle words, some people will have a great deal to answer for."
+
+"Why, Cousin Anna," replied a sprightly young lady opposite, "what do
+you mean by _idle words_?"
+
+"All words that have not a strictly useful tendency, Helen," replied
+Miss B.
+
+"I don't know what is to become of me, then," answered Helen, "for I
+never can think of any thing useful to say. I sit and try sometimes, but
+it always stops my talking. I don't think any thing in the world is so
+doleful as a set of persons sitting round, all trying to say something
+useful, like a parcel of old clocks ticking at each other. I think one
+might as well take the vow of entire silence, like the monks of La
+Trappe."
+
+"It is probable," said Miss B., "that a greater part of our ordinary
+conversation had better be dispensed with. 'In the multitude of words
+there wanteth not sin.' For my own part, my conscience often reproaches
+me with the sins of my tongue."
+
+"I'm sure you don't sin much that way, I must say," said Helen; "but,
+cousin, I really think it is a freezing business sitting still and
+reflecting all the time when friends are together; and after all I can't
+bring myself to feel as if it were wrong to talk and chatter away a good
+part of the time, just for the sake of talking. For instance, if a
+friend comes in of a morning to make a call, I talk about the weather,
+my roses, my Canary birds, or any thing that comes uppermost."
+
+"And about lace, and bonnet patterns, and the last fashions," added Miss
+B., sarcastically.
+
+"Well, supposing we do; where's the harm?"
+
+"Where's the good?" said Miss B.
+
+"The good! why, it passes time agreeably, and makes us feel kindly
+towards each other."
+
+"I think, Helen," said Miss B., "if you had a higher view of Christian
+responsibility, you would not be satisfied with merely passing time
+agreeably, or exciting agreeable feelings in others. Does not the very
+text we are speaking of show that we have an account to give in the day
+of judgment for all this trifling, useless conversation?"
+
+"I don't know what that text does mean," replied Helen, looking
+seriously; "but if it means as you say, I think it is a very hard,
+strait rule."
+
+"Well," replied Miss B., "is not duty always hard and strait? 'Strait is
+the gate, and narrow is the way,' you know."
+
+Helen sighed.
+
+"What do you think of this, Uncle C.?" she said, after some pause. The
+uncle of the two young ladies had been listening thus far in silence.
+
+"I think," he replied, "that before people begin to discuss, they should
+be quite sure as to what they are talking about; and I am not exactly
+clear in this case. You say, Anna," said he, turning to Miss B., "that
+all conversation is idle which has not a directly useful tendency. Now,
+what do you mean by that? Are we never to say any thing that has not for
+its direct and specific object to benefit others or ourselves?"
+
+"Yes," replied Miss B., "I suppose not."
+
+"Well, then, when I say, 'Good morning, sir; 'tis a pleasant day,' I
+have no such object. Are these, then, idle words?"
+
+"Why, no, not exactly," replied Miss B.; "in some cases it is necessary
+to say something, so as not to appear rude."
+
+"Very well," replied her uncle. "You admit, then, that some things,
+which are not instructive in themselves considered, are to be said to
+keep up the intercourse of society."
+
+"Certainly; some things," said Miss B.
+
+"Well, now, in the case mentioned by Helen, when two or three people
+with whom you are in different degrees of intimacy call upon you, I
+think she is perfectly right, as she said, in talking of roses, and
+Canary birds, and even of bonnet patterns, and lace, or any thing of the
+kind, for the sake of making conversation. It amounts to the same thing
+as 'good morning,' and 'good evening,' and the other courtesies of
+society. This sort of small talk has nothing instructive in it, and yet
+it may be _useful_ in its place. It makes people comfortable and easy,
+promotes kind and social feelings; and making people comfortable by any
+innocent means is certainly not a thing to be despised."
+
+"But is there not great danger of becoming light and trifling if one
+allows this?" said Miss B., doubtfully.
+
+"To be sure; there is always danger of running every innocent thing to
+excess. One might eat to excess, or drink to excess; yet eating and
+drinking are both useful in their way. Now, our lively young friend
+Helen, here, might perhaps be in some temptation of this sort; but as
+for you, Anna, I think you in more danger of another extreme."
+
+"And what is that?"
+
+"Of overstraining your mind by endeavoring to keep up a constant, fixed
+state of seriousness and solemnity, and not allowing yourself the
+relaxation necessary to preserve its healthy tone. In order to be
+healthy, every mind must have variety and amusement; and if you would
+sit down at least one hour a day, and join your friends in some amusing
+conversation, and indulge in a good laugh, I think, my dear, that you
+would not only be a happier person, but a better Christian."
+
+"My dear uncle," said Miss B., "this is the very thing that I have been
+most on my guard against; I can never tell stories, or laugh and joke,
+without feeling condemned for it afterwards."
+
+"But, my dear, you must do the thing in the testimony of a good
+conscience before you can do it to any purpose. You must make up your
+mind that cheerful and entertaining conversation--conversation whose
+first object is to amuse--is _useful conversation_ in its place, and
+then your conscience will not be injured by joining in it."
+
+"But what good does it do, uncle?"
+
+"Do you not often complain of coldness and deadness in your religious
+feelings? of lifelessness and want of interest?"
+
+"Yes, uncle."
+
+"Well, this coldness and lifelessness is the result of forcing your mind
+to one set of thoughts and feelings. You become worn out--your feelings
+exhausted--deadness and depression ensues. Now, turn your mind off from
+these subjects--divert it by a cheerful and animated conversation, and
+you will find, after a while, that it will return to them with new life
+and energy."
+
+"But are not foolish talking and jesting expressly forbidden?"
+
+"That text, if you will look at the connections, does not forbid jesting
+in the abstract; but jesting on immodest subjects--which are often
+designated in the New Testament by the phraseology there employed. I
+should give the sense of it--neither filthiness, nor foolish talking,
+nor indelicate jests. The kind of sprightly and amusing conversation to
+which I referred, I should not denominate foolish, by any means, at
+proper times and places."
+
+"Yet people often speak of gayety as inconsistent in Christians--even
+worldly people," said Miss B.
+
+"Yes, because, in the first place, they often have wrong ideas as to
+what Christianity requires in this respect, and suppose Christians to be
+violating their own principles in indulging in it. In the second place,
+there are some, especially among young people, who never talk in any
+other way--with whom this kind of conversation is not an amusement, but
+a habit--giving the impression that they never think seriously at all.
+But I think, that if persons are really possessed by the tender,
+affectionate, benevolent spirit of Christianity--if they regulate their
+temper and their tongue by it, and in all their actions show an evident
+effort to conform to its precepts, they will not do harm by occasionally
+indulging in sprightly and amusing conversation--they will not make the
+impression that they are not sincerely Christians."
+
+"Besides," said Helen, "are not people sometimes repelled from religion
+by a want of cheerfulness in its professors?"
+
+"Certainly," replied her uncle, "and the difference is just this: if a
+person is habitually trifling and thoughtless, it is thought that they
+have _no_ religion; if they are ascetic and gloomy, it is attributed
+_to_ their religion; and you know what Miss E. Smith says--that 'to be
+good and disagreeable is high treason against virtue.' The more
+sincerely and earnestly religious a person is, the more important it is
+that they should be agreeable."
+
+"But, uncle," said Helen, "what does that text mean that we began with?
+What are idle words?"
+
+"My dear, if you will turn to the place where the passage is (Matt.
+xii.) and read the whole page, you will see the meaning of it. Christ
+was not reproving any body for trifling conversation at the time; but
+for a very serious slander. The Pharisees, in their bitterness, accused
+him of being in league with evil spirits. It seems, by what follows,
+that this was a charge which involved an unpardonable sin. They were
+not, indeed, conscious of its full guilt--they said it merely from the
+impulse of excited and envious feeling--but he warns them that in the
+day of judgment, God will hold them accountable for the full
+consequences of all such language, however little they may have thought
+of it at the time of uttering it. The sense of the passage I take to be,
+'God will hold you responsible in the day of judgment for the
+consequences of all you have said in your most idle and thoughtless
+moments.'"
+
+"For example," said Helen, "if one makes unguarded and unfounded
+assertions about the Bible, which excite doubt and prejudice."
+
+"There are many instances," said her uncle, "that are quite in point.
+Suppose in conversation, either under the influence of envy or ill will,
+or merely from love of talking, you make remarks and statements about
+another person which may be true or may not,--you do not stop to
+inquire,--your unguarded words set reports in motion, and unhappiness,
+and hard feeling, and loss of character are the result. You spoke idly,
+it is true, but nevertheless you are held responsible by God for all the
+consequences of your words. So professors of religion often make
+unguarded remarks about each other, which lead observers to doubt the
+truth of all religion; and they are responsible for every such doubt
+they excite. Parents and guardians often allow themselves to speak of
+the faults and weaknesses of their ministers in the presence of children
+and younger people--they do it thoughtlessly--but in so doing they
+destroy an influence which might otherwise have saved the souls of their
+children; they are responsible for it. People of cultivated minds and
+fastidious taste often allow themselves to come home from church, and
+criticize a sermon, and unfold all its weak points in the presence of
+others on whom it may have made a very serious impression. While the
+critic is holding up the bad arrangement, and setting in a ludicrous
+point of view the lame figures, perhaps the servant behind his chair,
+who was almost persuaded to be a Christian by that very discourse, gives
+up his purposes, in losing his respect for the sermon; this was
+thoughtless--but the evil is done, and the man who did it is responsible
+for it."
+
+"I think," said Helen, "that a great deal of evil is done to children in
+this way, by our not thinking of what we are saying."
+
+"It seems to me," said Miss B., "that this view of the subject will
+reduce us to silence almost as much as the other. How is one ever to
+estimate the consequences of their words, people are affected in so many
+different ways by the same thing?"
+
+"I suppose," said her uncle, "we are only responsible for such results
+as by carefulness and reflection we might have foreseen. It is not for
+_ill-judged_ words, but for idle words, that we are to be judged--words
+uttered without any consideration at all, and producing bad results. If
+a person really anxious to do right misjudges as to the probable effect
+of what he is about to say on others, it is quite another thing."
+
+"But, uncle, will not such carefulness destroy all freedom in
+conversation?" said Helen.
+
+"If you are talking with a beloved friend, Helen, do you not use an
+_instinctive_ care to avoid all that might pain that friend?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"And do you find this effort a restraint on your enjoyment?"
+
+"Certainly not."
+
+"And you, from your own feelings, avoid what is indelicate and impure in
+conversation, and yet feel it no restraint?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Well, I suppose the object of Christian effort should be so to realize
+the character of our Savior, and conform our tastes and sympathies to
+his, that we shall _instinctively_ avoid all in our conversation that
+would be displeasing to him. A person habitually indulging jealous,
+angry, or revengeful feeling--a person habitually worldly in his
+spirit--a person allowing himself in sceptical and unsettled habits of
+thought, _cannot_ talk without doing harm. This is our Savior's account
+of the matter in the verses immediately before the passage we were
+speaking of--'How _can_ ye, being evil, speak good things? for out of
+the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh. A good man out of the
+good treasure of his heart bringeth forth good things, and an evil man
+out of the evil treasure of his heart bringeth forth evil things.' The
+highest flow of animal spirits would never hurry a pure-minded person to
+say any thing indelicate or gross; and in the same manner, if a person
+is habitually Christian in all his habits of thought and feeling, he
+will be able without irksome watchfulness to avoid what may be injurious
+even in the most unrestrained conversation."
+
+
+
+
+HOW DO WE KNOW?
+
+
+It was a splendid room. Rich curtains swept down to the floor in
+graceful folds, half excluding the light, and shedding it in soft hues
+over the fine old paintings on the walls, and over the broad mirrors
+that reflect all that taste can accomplish by the hand of wealth. Books,
+the rarest and most costly, were around, in every form of gorgeous
+binding and gilding, and among them, glittering in ornament, lay a
+magnificent Bible--a Bible too beautiful in its appointments, too showy,
+too ornamental, ever to have been meant to be read--a Bible which every
+visitor should take up and exclaim, "What a beautiful edition! what
+superb bindings!" and then lay it down again.
+
+And the master of the house was lounging on a sofa, looking over a late
+review--for he was a man of leisure, taste, and reading--but, then, as
+to reading the Bible!--_that_ forms, we suppose, no part of the
+pretensions of a man of letters. The Bible--certainly he considered it a
+very _respectable_ book--a fine specimen of ancient literature--an
+admirable book of moral precepts; but, then, as to its divine origin, he
+had not exactly made up his mind: some parts appeared strange and
+inconsistent to his reason--others were revolting to his taste: true, he
+had never studied it very attentively, yet such was his _general
+impression_ about it; but, on the whole, he thought it well enough to
+keep an elegant copy of it on his drawing room table.
+
+So much for one picture. Now for another.
+
+Come with us into this little dark alley, and up a flight of ruinous
+stairs. It is a bitter night, and the wind and snow might drive through
+the crevices of the poor room, were it not that careful hands have
+stopped them with paper or cloth. But for all this carefulness, the room
+is bitter cold--cold even with those few decaying brands on the hearth,
+which that sorrowful woman is trying to kindle with her breath. Do you
+see that pale, little, thin girl, with large, bright eyes, who is
+crouching so near her mother?--hark!--how she coughs! Now listen.
+
+"Mary, my dear child," says the mother, "do keep that shawl close about
+you; you are cold, I know," and the woman shivers as she speaks.
+
+"No, mother, not _very_," replies the child, again relapsing into that
+hollow, ominous cough. "I wish you wouldn't make me always wear your
+shawl when it is cold, mother."
+
+"Dear child, you need it most. How you cough to-night!" replies the
+mother; "it really don't seem right for me to send you up that long,
+cold street; now your shoes have grown so poor, too; I must go myself
+after this."
+
+"O mother, you must stay with the baby--what if he should have one of
+those dreadful fits while you are gone! No, I can go very well; I have
+got used to the cold now."
+
+"But, mother, I'm cold," says a little voice from the scanty bed in the
+corner; "mayn't I get up and come to the fire?"
+
+"Dear child, it would not warm you; it is very cold here, and I can't
+make any more fire to-night."
+
+"Why can't you, mother? There are four whole sticks of wood in the box;
+do put one on, and let's get warm once."
+
+"No, my dear little Henry," says the mother, soothingly, "that is all
+the wood mother has, and I haven't any money to get more."
+
+And now wakens the sick baby in the cradle, and mother and daughter are
+both for some time busy in attempting to supply its little wants, and
+lulling it again to sleep.
+
+And now look you well at that mother. Six months ago she had a husband,
+whose earnings procured for her both the necessaries and comforts of
+life; her children were clothed, fed, and schooled, without thoughts of
+hers. But husband-less, friendless, and alone in the heart of a great,
+busy city, with feeble health, and only the precarious resource of her
+needle, she has gone down from comfort to extreme poverty. Look at her
+now, as she is to-night. She knows full well that the pale, bright-eyed
+girl, whose hollow cough constantly rings in her ears, is far from well.
+She knows that cold, and hunger, and exposure of every kind, are daily
+and surely wearing away her life. And yet what can she do? Poor soul!
+how many times has she calculated all her little resources, to see if
+she could pay a doctor and get medicine for Mary--yet all in vain. She
+knows that timely medicine, ease, fresh air, and warmth might save her;
+but she knows that all these things are out of the question for her. She
+feels, too, as a mother would feel, when she sees her once rosy, happy
+little boy becoming pale, and anxious, and fretful; and even when he
+teases her most, she only stops her work a moment, and strokes his
+little thin cheeks, and thinks what a laughing, happy little fellow he
+once was, till she has not a heart to reprove him. And all this day she
+has toiled with a sick and fretful baby in her lap, and her little
+shivering, hungry boy at her side, whom Mary's patient artifices cannot
+always keep quiet; she has toiled over the last piece of work which she
+can procure from the shop, for the man has told her that after this he
+can furnish no more; and the little money that is to come from this is
+already portioned out in her own mind, and after that she has no human
+prospect of support.
+
+But yet that woman's face is patient, quiet, firm. Nay, you may even see
+in her suffering eye something like peace. And whence comes it? I will
+tell you.
+
+There is a Bible in that room, as well as in the rich man's apartment.
+Not splendidly bound, to be sure, but faithfully read--a plain, homely,
+much-worn book.
+
+Hearken now while she says to her children, "Listen to me, dear
+children, and I will read you something out of this book. 'Let not your
+heart be troubled; in my Father's house are many mansions.' So you see,
+my children, we shall not always live in this little, cold, dark room.
+Jesus Christ has promised to take us to a better home."
+
+"Shall we be warm there all day?" says the little boy, earnestly; "and
+shall we have enough to eat?"
+
+"Yes, dear child," says the mother; "listen to what the Bible says:
+'They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more; for the Lamb which
+is in the midst of the throne shall feed them; and God shall wipe away
+all tears from their eyes.'"
+
+"I am glad of that," said little Mary, "for, mother, I never can bear to
+see you cry."
+
+"But, mother," says little Henry, "won't God send us something to eat
+to-morrow?"
+
+"See," says the mother, "what the Bible says: 'Seek ye not what ye shall
+eat, nor what ye shall drink, neither be of anxious mind. For your
+Father knoweth that ye have need of these things.'"
+
+"But, mother," says little Mary, "if God is our Father, and loves us,
+what does he let us be so poor for?"
+
+"Nay," says the mother, "our dear Lord Jesus Christ was as poor as we
+are, and God certainly loved him."
+
+"Was he, mother?"
+
+"Yes, children; you remember how he said, 'The Son of man hath not where
+to lay his head.' And it tells us more than once that Jesus was hungry
+when there was none to give him food."
+
+"O mother, what should we do without the Bible?" says Mary.
+
+Now, if the rich man, who had not yet made up his mind what to think of
+the Bible, should visit this poor woman, and ask her on what she
+grounded her belief of its truth, what could she answer? Could she give
+the arguments from miracles and prophecy? Could she account for all the
+changes which might have taken place in it through translators and
+copyists, and prove that we have a genuine and uncorrupted version? Not
+she! But how, then, does she know that it is true? How, say you? How
+does she know that she has warm life blood in her heart? How does she
+know that there is such a thing as air and sunshine? She does not
+_believe_ these things--she _knows_ them; and in like manner, with a
+deep heart consciousness, she is certain that the words of her Bible are
+truth and life. Is it by reasoning that the frightened child, bewildered
+in the dark, knows its mother's voice? No! Nor is it only by reasoning
+that the forlorn and distressed human heart knows the voice of its
+Savior, and is still.
+
+
+
+
+WHICH IS THE LIBERAL MAN?
+
+
+It was a beaming and beautiful summer morning, and the little town of V.
+was alive with all the hurry and motion of a college commencement. Rows
+of carriages lined the rural streets, and groups of well-dressed
+auditors were thronging to the hall of exhibition. All was gayety and
+animation.
+
+And among them all what heart beat higher with hope and gratified
+ambition than that of James Stanton? Young, buoyant, prepossessing in
+person and manners, he was this day, in the presence of all the world,
+to carry off the highest palm of scholarship in his institution, and to
+receive, on the threshold of the great world, the utmost that youthful
+ambition can ask before it enters the arena of actual life. Did not his
+pulse flutter, and his heart beat thick, when he heard himself announced
+in the crowded house as the valedictorian of the day? when he saw aged
+men, and fair, youthful faces, ruddy childhood, and sober, calculating
+manhood alike bending in hushed and eager curiosity, to listen to his
+words? Nay, did not his heart rise in his throat as he caught the gleam
+of his father's eye, while, bending forward on his staff, with white,
+reverend locks falling about his face, he listened to the voice of his
+pride--his first born? And did he not see the glistening tears in his
+mother's eye, as with rapt ear she hung upon his every word? Ah, the
+young man's first triumph! When, full of confidence and hope, he enters
+the field of life, all his white glistening as yet unsoiled by the dust
+of the combat, the unproved world turning towards him with flatteries
+and promises in both hands, what other triumph does life give so fresh,
+so full, so replete with hope and joy? So felt James Stanton this day,
+when he heard his father congratulated on having a son of such promise;
+when old men, revered for talents and worth, shook hands with him, and
+bade him warmly God speed in the course of life; when bright eyes cast
+glances of favor, and from among the fairest were overheard whispers of
+admiration.
+
+"Your son is designed for the bar, I trust," said the venerable Judge L.
+to the father of James, at the commencement dinner. "I have seldom seen
+a turn of mind better fitted for success in the legal profession. And
+then his voice! his manner! let him go to the bar, sir, and I prophesy
+that he will yet outdo us all."
+
+And this was said in James's hearing, and by one whose commendation was
+not often so warmly called forth. It was not in any young heart not to
+beat quicker at such prospects. Honor, station, wealth, political
+ambition, all seemed to offer themselves to his grasp; but long ere
+this, in the solitude of retirement, in the stillness of prayer and
+self-examination, the young graduate had vowed himself to a different
+destiny; and if we may listen to a conversation, a few evenings after
+commencement, with a classmate, we shall learn more of the secret
+workings of his mind.
+
+"And so, Stanton," said George Lennox to him, as they sat by their
+evening fireside, "you have not yet decided whether to accept Judge L.'s
+offer or not."
+
+"I have decided that matter long ago," said James.
+
+"So, then, you choose the ministry."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, for my part," replied George Lennox, "I choose the law. There
+must be Christians, you know, in every vocation; the law seems to suit
+my turn of mind. I trust it will be my effort to live as becomes a
+Christian, whatever be my calling."
+
+"I trust so," replied James.
+
+"But really, Stanton," added the other, after some thought, "it seems a
+pity to cast away such prospects as open before you. You know your
+tuition is offered gratis; and then the patronage of Judge L., and such
+influences as he can command to secure your success--pray, do not these
+things seem to you like a providential indication that the law is to be
+your profession? Besides, here in these New England States, the ministry
+is overflowed already--ministers enough, and too many, if one may judge
+by the number of applicants for every unoccupied place."
+
+"Nay," replied James, "my place is not here. I know, if all accounts are
+true, that my profession is not overflowed in our Western States, and
+there I mean to go."
+
+"And is it possible that you can contemplate such an entire sacrifice of
+your talents, your manners, your literary and scientific tastes, your
+capabilities for refined society, as to bury yourself in a log cabin in
+one of our new states? You will never be appreciated there; your
+privations and sacrifices will be entirely disregarded, and you placed
+on a level with the coarsest and most uneducated sectaries. I really do
+not think you are called to this."
+
+"Who, then, is called?" replied James.
+
+"Why, men with much less of all these good things--men with real coarse,
+substantial, backwoods furniture in their minds, who will not
+appreciate, and of course not feel, the want of all the refinements and
+comforts which you must sacrifice."
+
+"And are there enough such men ready to meet the emergencies in our
+western world, so that no others need be called upon?" replied James.
+"Men of the class you speak of may do better than I; but, if after all
+their efforts I still am needed, and can work well, ought I not to go?
+Must those only be drafted for religious enterprises to whom they
+involve no sacrifice?"
+
+"Well, for my part," replied the other, "I trust I am willing to do any
+thing that is my duty; yet I never could feel it to be my duty to bury
+myself in a new state, among stumps and log cabins. My mind would rust
+itself out; and, missing the stimulus of such society as I have been
+accustomed to, I should run down completely, and be useless in body and
+in mind."
+
+"If you feel so, it would be so," replied James. "If the work there to
+be done would not be stimulus and excitement enough to compensate for
+the absence of all other stimulus,--if the business of the ministry, the
+_saving of human souls_, is not the one all-absorbing purpose, and
+desire, and impulse of the whole being,--then woe to the man who goes to
+preach the gospel where there is nothing but human souls to be gained by
+it."
+
+"Well, Stanton," replied the other, after a pause of some seriousness,
+"I cannot say that I have attained to this yet. I don't know but I might
+be brought to it; but at present I must confess it is not so. We ought
+not to rush into a state and employment which we have not the moral
+fortitude to sustain well. In short, for myself, I may make a
+respectable, and, I trust, not useless man in the law, when I could do
+nothing in the circumstances which you choose. However, I respect your
+feelings, and heartily wish that I could share them myself."
+
+A few days after this conversation the young friends parted for their
+several destinations--the one to a law school, the other to a
+theological seminary.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was many years after this that a middle-aged man, of somewhat
+threadbare appearance and restricted travelling conveniences, was seen
+carefully tying his horse at the outer enclosure of an elegant mansion
+in the town of ----, in one of our Western States; which being done, he
+eyed the house rather inquisitively, as people sometimes do when they
+are doubtful as to the question of entering or not entering. The house
+belonged to George Lennox, Esq., a lawyer reputed to be doing a more
+extensive business than any other in the state, and the threadbare
+gentleman who plies the knocker at the front door is the Reverend Mr.
+Stanton, a name widely spread in the ecclesiastical circles of the land.
+The door opens, and the old college acquaintances meet with a cordial
+grasp of the hand, and Mr. Stanton soon finds himself pressed to the
+most comfortable accommodations in the warm parlor of his friend; and
+even the slight uneasiness which the wisest are not always exempt from,
+when conscious of a little shabbiness in exterior, was entirely
+dissipated by the evident cordiality of his reception. Since the
+conversation we have alluded to, the two friends pursued their separate
+courses with but few opportunities of personal intercourse. In the true
+zeal of the missionary, James Stanton had thrown himself into the field,
+where it seemed hardest and darkest, and where labor seemed most needed.
+In neighborhoods without churches, without school houses, without
+settled roads, among a population of disorganized and heterogeneous
+material, he had exhorted from house to house, labored individually with
+one after another, till he had, in place after place, brought together
+the elements of a Christian church. Far from all ordinances, means of
+grace, or Christian brotherhood, or cooeperation, he had seemed to
+himself to be merely the lonely, solitary "_voice_ of one crying in the
+wilderness," as unassisted, and, to human view, as powerless. With
+poverty, and cold, and physical fatigue he had daily been familiar; and
+where no vehicle could penetrate the miry depths of the forest, where it
+was impracticable even to guide a horse, he had walked miles and miles,
+through mud and rain, to preach. With a wife in delicate health, and a
+young and growing family, he had more than once seen the year when fifty
+dollars was the whole amount of money that had passed through his hands;
+and the whole of the rest of his support had come in disconnected
+contributions from one and another of his people. He had lived without
+books, without newspapers, except as he had found them by chance
+snatches here and there,[1] and felt, as one so circumstanced only can
+feel, the difficulty of maintaining intellectual vigor and energy in
+default of all those stimulants to which cultivated minds in more
+favorable circumstances are so much indebted. At the time that he is now
+introduced to the reader, he had been recently made pastor in one of the
+most important settlements in the state, and among those who, so far as
+worldly circumstances were concerned, were able to afford him a
+competent support. But among communities like those at the west, settled
+for expressly money-making purposes, and by those who have for years
+been taught the lesson to save, and have scarcely begun to feel the duty
+to give, a minister, however laborious, however eloquent and successful,
+may often feel the most serious embarrassments of poverty. Too often is
+his salary regarded as a charity which may be given or retrenched to
+suit every emergency of the times, and his family expenditures watched
+with a jealous and censorious eye.
+
+[Footnote 1: Those particulars the writer heard stated personally as a
+part of the experience of one of the most devoted ministers of Ohio.]
+
+On the other hand, George Lennox, the lawyer, had by his talents and
+efficiency placed himself at the head of his profession, and was
+realizing an income which brought all the comforts and elegances of life
+within his reach. He was a member of the Christian church in the place
+where he lived, irreproachable in life and conduct. From natural
+generosity of disposition, seconded by principle, he was a liberal
+contributor to all religious and benevolent enterprises, and was often
+quoted and referred to as an example in good works. Surrounded by an
+affectionate and growing family, with ample means for providing in the
+best manner both for their physical and mental development, he justly
+regarded himself as a happy man, and was well satisfied with the world
+he lived in.
+
+Now, there is nothing more trying to the Christianity or the philosophy
+which teaches the vanity of riches than a few hours' domestication in a
+family where wealth is employed, not for purposes of ostentation, but
+for the perfecting of home comfort and the gratification of refined
+intellectual tastes; and as Mr. Stanton leaned back, slippered and
+gowned, in one of the easiest of chairs, and began to look over
+periodicals and valuable new books from which he had long been excluded,
+he might be forgiven for giving a half sigh to the reflection that he
+could never be a rich man. "Have you read this review?" said his
+companion, handing him one of the leading periodicals of the day across
+the table.
+
+"I seldom see reviews," said Mr. Stanton, taking it.
+
+"You lose a great deal," replied the other, "if you have not seen those
+by this author--altogether the ablest series of literary efforts in our
+time. You clerical gentlemen ought not to sacrifice your literary tastes
+entirely to your professional cares. A moderate attention to current
+literature liberalizes the mind, and gives influence that you could not
+otherwise acquire."
+
+"Literary taste is an expensive thing to a minister," said Mr. Stanton,
+smiling: "for the mind, as well as the body, we must forego all
+luxuries, and confine ourselves simply to necessaries."
+
+"I would always indulge myself with books and periodicals, even if I had
+to scrimp elsewhere," said Mr. Lennox; and he spoke of scrimping with
+all the serious good faith with which people of two or three thousand a
+year usually speak of these matters.
+
+Mr. Stanton smiled, and waived the subject, wondering mentally where his
+friend would find an elsewhere to scrimp, if he had the management of
+_his_ concerns. The conversation gradually flowed back to college days
+and scenes, and the friends amused themselves with tracing the history
+of their various classmates.
+
+"And so Alsop is in the Senate," said Mr. Stanton. "Strange! We did not
+at all expect it of him. But do you know any thing of George Bush?"
+
+"O, yes," replied the other; "he went into mercantile life, and the last
+I heard he had turned a speculation worth thirty thousand--a shrewd
+fellow. I always knew he would make his way in the world."
+
+"But what has become of Langdon?"
+
+"O, he is doing well; he is professor of languages in ---- College, and
+I hear he has lately issued a Latin Grammar that promises to have quite
+a run."
+
+"And Smithson?"
+
+"Smithson has an office at Washington, and was there living in great
+style the last time I saw him."
+
+It may be questioned whether the minister sank to sleep that night, amid
+the many comfortable provisions of his friend's guest chamber, without
+rebuking in his heart a certain rising of regret that he had turned his
+back on all the honors, and distinctions, and comforts which lay around
+the path of others, who had not, in the opening of the race, half the
+advantages of himself. "See," said the insidious voice--"what have you
+gained? See your early friends surrounded by riches and comfort, while
+you are pinched and harassed by poverty. Have they not, many of them, as
+good a hope of heaven as you have, and all this besides? Could you not
+have lived easier, and been a good man after all?" The reflection was
+only silenced by remembering that the only Being who ever had the
+perfect power of choosing his worldly condition, chose, of his own
+accord, a poverty deeper than that of any of his servants. Had Christ
+consented to be rich, what check could there have been to the desire of
+it among his followers? But he chose to stoop so low that none could be
+lower; and that in extremest want none could ever say, "I am poorer than
+was my Savior and God."
+
+The friends at parting the next morning shook hands warmly, and promised
+a frequent renewal of their resumed intercourse. Nor was the bill for
+twenty dollars, which the minister found in his hand, at all an
+unacceptable addition to the pleasures of his visit; and though the
+November wind whistled keenly through a dull, comfortless sky, he turned
+his horse's head homeward with a lightened heart.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Mother's sick, and _I'm_ a-keeping house!" said a little flaxen-headed
+girl, in all the importance of seven years, as her father entered the
+dwelling.
+
+"Your mother sick! what's the matter?" inquired Mr. Stanton.
+
+"She caught cold washing, yesterday, while you were gone;" and when the
+minister stood by the bedside of his sick wife, saw her flushed face,
+and felt her feverish pulse, he felt seriously alarmed. She had scarcely
+recovered from a dangerous fever when he left home, and with reason he
+dreaded a relapse.
+
+"My dear, why have you done so?" was the first expostulation; "why did
+you not send for old Agnes to do your washing, as I told you."
+
+"I felt so well, I thought I was quite able," was the reply; "and you
+know it will take all the money we have now in hand to get the
+children's shoes before cold weather comes, and nobody knows when we
+shall have any more."
+
+"Well, Mary, comfort your heart as to that. I have had a present to-day
+of twenty dollars--that will last us some time. God always provides when
+need is greatest." And so, after administering a little to the comfort
+of his wife, the minister addressed himself to the business of cooking
+something for dinner for himself and his little hungry flock.
+
+"There is no bread in the house," he exclaimed, after a survey of the
+ways and means at his disposal.
+
+"I must try and sit up long enough to make some," said his wife faintly.
+
+"You must try to be quiet," replied the husband. "We can do very well on
+potatoes. But yet," he added, "I think if I bring the things to your
+bedside, and you show me how to mix them, I could make some bread."
+
+A burst of laughter from the young fry chorused his proposal;
+nevertheless, as Mr. Stanton was a man of decided genius, by help of
+much showing, and of strong arms and good will, the feat was at length
+accomplished in no unworkmanlike manner; and while the bread was put
+down to the fire to rise, and the potatoes were baking in the oven, Mr.
+Stanton having enjoined silence on his noisy troop, sat down, pencil in
+hand, by his wife's bed, to prepare a sermon.
+
+We would that those ministers who feel that they cannot compose without
+a study, and that the airiest and pleasantest room in the house, where
+the floor is guarded by the thick carpet, the light carefully relieved
+by curtains, where papers are filed and arranged neatly in conveniences
+purposely adjusted, with books of reference standing invitingly around,
+could once figure to themselves the process of composing a sermon in
+circumstances such as we have painted. Mr. Stanton had written his text,
+and jotted down something of an introduction, when a circumstance
+occurred which is almost inevitable in situations where a person has any
+thing else to attend to--_the baby woke_. The little interloper was to
+be tied into a chair, while the flaxen-headed young housekeeper was now
+installed into the office of waiter in ordinary to her majesty, and by
+shaking a newspaper before her face, plying a rattle, or other arts
+known only to the initiate, to prevent her from indulging in any
+unpleasant demonstrations, while Mr. Stanton proceeded with his train of
+thought.
+
+"Papa, papa! the teakettle! only look!" cried all the younger ones, just
+as he was again beginning to abstract his mind.
+
+Mr. Stanton rose, and adapting part of his sermon paper to the handle of
+the teakettle, poured the boiling water on some herb drink for his wife,
+and then recommenced.
+
+"I sha'n't have much of a sermon!" he soliloquized, as his youngest but
+one, with the ingenuity common to children of her standing, had
+contrived to tip herself over in her chair, and cut her under lip, which
+for the time being threw the whole settlement into commotion; and this
+conviction was strengthened by finding that it was now time to give the
+children their dinner.
+
+"I fear Mrs. Stanton is imprudent in exerting herself," said the medical
+man to the husband, as he examined her symptoms.
+
+"I know she is," replied her husband, "but I cannot keep her from it."
+
+"It is absolutely indispensable that she should rest and keep her mind
+easy," said the doctor.
+
+"Rest and keep easy"--how easily the words are said! yet how they fall
+on the ear of a mother, who knows that her whole flock have not yet a
+garment prepared for winter, that hiring assistance is out of the
+question, and that the work must all be done by herself--who sees that
+while she is sick her husband is perplexed, and kept from his
+appropriate duties, and her children, despite his well-meant efforts,
+suffering for the want of those attentions that only a mother can give.
+Will not any mother, so tried, rise from her sick bed before she feels
+able, to be again prostrated by over-exertion, until the vigor of the
+constitution year by year declines, and she sinks into an early grave?
+Yet this is the true history of many a wife and mother, who, in
+consenting to share the privations of a western minister, has as truly
+sacrificed her life as did ever martyr on heathen shores. The graves of
+Harriet Newell and Mrs. Judson are hallowed as the shrines of saints,
+and their memory made as a watchword among Christians; yet the western
+valley is full of green and nameless graves, where patient,
+long-enduring wives and mothers have lain down, worn out by the
+privations of as severe a missionary field, and "no man knoweth the
+place of their sepulchre."
+
+The crisp air of a November evening was enlivened by the fire that
+blazed merrily in the bar room of the tavern in L., while a more than
+usual number crowded about the hearth, owing to the session of the
+county court in that place.
+
+"Mr. Lennox is a pretty smart lawyer," began an old gentleman, who sat
+in one of the corners, in the half interrogative tone which indicated a
+wish to start conversation.
+
+"Yes, sir, no mistake about that," was the reply; "does the largest
+business in the state--very smart man, sir, and honest--a church member
+too, and one of the tallest kinds of Christians they say--gives more
+money for building meeting houses, and all sorts of religious concerns,
+than any man around."
+
+"Well, he can afford it," said a man with a thin, care-taking visage,
+and a nervous, anxious twitch of the hand, as if it were his constant
+effort to hold on to something--"he can afford it, for he makes money
+hand over hand. It is not every body can afford to do as he does."
+
+A sly look of intelligence pervaded the company; for the speaker, one of
+the most substantial householders in the settlement, was always taken
+with distressing symptoms of poverty and destitution when any allusion
+to public or religious charity was made.
+
+"Mr. C. is thinking about parish matters," said a wicked wag of the
+company; "you see, sir, our minister urged pretty hard last Sunday to
+have his salary paid up. He has had sickness in his family, and nothing
+on hand for winter expenses."
+
+"I don't think Mr. Stanton is judicious in making such public
+statements," said the former speaker, nervously; "he ought to consult
+his friends privately, and not bring temporalities into the pulpit."
+
+"That is to say, starve decently, and make no fuss," replied the other.
+
+"Nonsense! Who talks of starving, when provision is as plenty as
+blackberries? I tell you I understand this matter, and know how little a
+man can get along with. I've tried it myself. When I first set out in
+life, my wife and I had not a pair of andirons or a shovel and tongs for
+two or three years, and we never thought of complaining. The times are
+hard. We are all losing, and must get along as we can; and Mr. Stanton
+must bear some rubs as well as the rest of us."
+
+"It appears to me, Mr. C," said the waggish gentleman aforesaid, "that
+if you'd put Mr. Stanton into your good brick house, and give him your
+furniture and income, he would be well satisfied to rub along as you
+do."
+
+"Mr. Stanton isn't so careful in his expenses as he might be," said Mr.
+C., petulantly, disregarding the idea started by his neighbor; "he buys
+things _I_ should not think of buying. Now, I was in his house the other
+day, and he had just given three dollars for a single book."
+
+"Perhaps it was a book he needed in his studies," suggested the old
+gentleman who began the conversation.
+
+"What's the use of book larnin' to a minister, if he's got the real
+spirit in him?" chimed in a rough-looking man in the farthest corner;
+"only wish you could have heard Elder North give it off--_there_ was a
+real genuine preacher for you, couldn't even read his text in the Bible;
+yet, sir, he would get up and reel it off as smooth and fast as the best
+of them, that come out of the colleges. My notion is, it's the _spirit_
+that's the thing, after all."
+
+Several of the auditors seemed inclined to express their approbation of
+this doctrine, though some remarked that Mr. Stanton was a smarter
+preacher than Elder North, for all his book larnin'.
+
+Some of the more intelligent of the circle here exchanged smiles, but
+declined entering the lists in favor of "larnin'."
+
+"O, for my part," resumed Mr. C., "I am for having a minister study, and
+have books and all that, if he can afford it; but in hard times like
+these, books are neither meat, drink, nor fire; and I know I can't
+afford them. Now, I'm as willing to contribute my part to the minister's
+salary, and every other charity, as any body, when I can get money to do
+it; but in these times I _can't_ get it."
+
+The elderly gentleman here interrupted the conversation by saying,
+abruptly, "I am a townsman of Mr. Stanton's, and it is _my_ opinion that
+_he_ has impoverished himself by giving in religious charity."
+
+"Giving in charity!" exclaimed several voices; "where did he ever get
+any thing to give?"
+
+"Yet I think I speak within bounds," said the old gentleman, "when I say
+that he has given more than the amount of two thousand dollars yearly to
+the support of the gospel in this state; and I think I can show it to be
+so."
+
+The eyes of the auditors were now enlarged to their utmost limits, while
+the old gentleman, after the fashion of shrewd old gentlemen generally,
+screwed up his mouth in a very dry twist, and looked in the fire without
+saying a word.
+
+"Come now, pray tell us how this is," said several of the company.
+
+"Well, sir," said the old man, addressing himself to Mr. C., "you are a
+man of business, and will perhaps understand the case as I view it. You
+were speaking this evening of lawyer Lennox. He and your minister were
+both from my native place, and both there and in college your minister
+was always reckoned the smartest of the two, and went ahead in every
+thing they undertook. Now, you see Mr. Lennox, out of his talents and
+education, makes say three thousand a year. Mr. Stanton had more talent,
+and more education, and might have made even more; but by devoting
+himself to the work of the ministry in your state, he gains, we will
+say, about four hundred dollars. Does he not, therefore, in fact, give
+all the difference between four hundred and three thousand to the cause
+of religion in this state? If, during the business season of the year,
+you, Mr. C., should devote your whole time to some benevolent
+enterprise, would you not feel that you had virtually given to that
+enterprise all the money you would otherwise have made? Instead,
+therefore, of calling it a charity for you to subscribe to your
+minister's support, you ought to consider it a very expensive charity
+for him to devote his existence in preaching to you. To bring the gospel
+to your state, he has given up a reasonable prospect of an income of two
+or three thousand, and contents himself with the least sum which will
+keep soul and body together, without the possibility of laying up a cent
+for his family in case of his sickness and death. This, sir, is what _I_
+call giving in charity."
+
+
+
+
+THE ELDER'S FEAST.
+
+A TRADITION OF LAODICEA.
+
+
+At a certain time in the earlier ages there lived in the city of
+Laodicea a Christian elder of some repute, named Onesiphorus. The world
+had smiled on him, and though a Christian, he was rich and full of
+honors. All men, even the heathen, spoke well of him, for he was a man
+courteous of speech and mild of manner.
+
+His wife, a fair Ionian lady but half reclaimed from idolatry, though
+baptized and accredited as a member of the Christian church, still
+lingered lovingly on the confines of old heathenism, and if she did not
+believe, still cherished with pleasure the poetic legends of Apollo and
+Venus, of Jove and Diana.
+
+A large and fair family of sons and daughters had risen around these
+parents; but their education had been much after the rudiments of this
+world, and not after Christ. Though, according to the customs of the
+church, they were brought to the font of baptism, and sealed in the name
+of the Father, and the Son, and Holy Ghost, and although daily, instead
+of libations to the Penates, or flower offerings to Diana and Juno, the
+name of Jesus was invoked, yet the _spirit_ of Jesus was wanting. The
+chosen associates of all these children, as they grew older, were among
+the heathen; and daily they urged their parents, by their entreaties, to
+conform, in one thing after another, to heathen usage. "Why should we be
+singular, mother?" said the dark-eyed Myrrah, as she bound her hair and
+arranged her dress after the fashion of the girls in the temple of
+Venus. "Why may we not wear the golden ornaments and images which have
+been consecrated to heathen goddesses?" said the sprightly Thalia;
+"surely none others are to be bought, and are we to do altogether
+without?" "And why may we not be at feasts where libations are made to
+Apollo or Jupiter?" said the sons; "so long as we do not consent to it
+or believe in it, will our faith be shaken thereby?" "How are we ever to
+reclaim the heathen, if we do not mingle among them?" said another son;
+"did not our Master eat with publicans and sinners?"
+
+It was, however, to be remarked, that no conversions of the heathen to
+Christianity ever took place through the means of these complying sons
+and daughters, or any of the number who followed their example. Instead
+of withdrawing any from the confines of heathenism, they themselves were
+drawn so nearly over, that in certain situations and circumstances they
+would undoubtedly have been ranked among them by any but a most
+scrutinizing observer. If any in the city of Laodicea were ever led to
+unite themselves with Jesus, it was by means of a few who observed the
+full simplicity of the ancient faith, and who, though honest, tender,
+and courteous in all their dealings with the heathen, still went not a
+step with them in conformity to any of their customs.
+
+In time, though the family we speak of never broke off from the
+Christian church, yet if you had been in it, you might have heard much
+warm and earnest conversation about things that took place at the baths,
+or in feasts to various divinities; but if any one spoke of Jesus, there
+was immediately a cold silence, a decorous, chilling, respectful pause,
+after which the conversation, with a bound, flew back into the old
+channel again.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was now night; and the house of Onesiphorus the Elder was blazing
+with torches, alive with music, and all the hurry and stir of a
+sumptuous banquet. All the wealth and fashion of Laodicea were there,
+Christian and heathen; and all that the classic voluptuousness of
+Oriental Greece could give to shed enchantment over the scene was there.
+In ancient times the festivals of Christians in Laodicea had been
+regulated in the spirit of the command of Jesus, as recorded by Luke,
+whose classical Greek had made his the established version in Asia
+Minor. "And thou, when thou makest a feast, call not thy friends and thy
+kinsmen, nor thy rich neighbors, lest they also bid thee, and a
+recompense be made thee. But when thou makest a feast, call the poor,
+and the maimed, and the lame, and the blind, and thou shalt be blessed;
+for they cannot recompense thee, but thou shalt be recompensed at the
+resurrection of the just."
+
+That very day, before the entertainment, had this passage been quoted in
+the ears of the family by Cleon, the youngest son, who, different from
+all his family, had cherished in his bosom the simplicity of the old
+belief.
+
+"How ridiculous! how absurd!" had been the reply of the more thoughtless
+members of the family, when Cleon cited the above passage as in point to
+the evening's entertainment. The dark-eyed mother looked reproof on the
+levity of the younger children, and decorously applauded the passage,
+which she said had no application to the matter in hand.
+
+"But, mother, even if the passage be not literally taken, it must mean
+_something_. What did the Lord Jesus intend by it? If we Christians may
+make entertainments with all the parade and expense of our heathen
+neighbors, and thus spend the money that might be devoted to charity,
+what does this passage mean?"
+
+"Your father gives in charity as handsomely as any Christian in
+Laodicea," said his mother warmly.
+
+"Nay, mother, that may be; but I bethink me now of two or three times
+when means have been wanting for the relieving of the poor, and the
+ransoming of captives, and the support of apostles, when we have said
+that we could give no more."
+
+"My son," said his mother, "you do not understand the ways of the
+world."
+
+"Nay, how should he?" said Thalia, "shut up day and night with that old
+papyrus of St. Luke and Paul's Epistles. One may have too much of a good
+thing."
+
+"But does not the holy Paul say, 'Be not conformed to this world'?"
+
+"Certainly," said the elder; "that means that we should be baptized, and
+not worship in the heathen temples."
+
+"My dear son," said his mother, "you intend well, doubtless; but you
+have not sufficient knowledge of life to estimate our relations to
+society. Entertainments of this sort are absolutely necessary to sustain
+our position in the world. If we accept, we must return them."
+
+But not to dwell on this conversation, let us suppose ourselves in the
+rooms now glittering with lights, and gay with every costly luxury of
+wealth and taste. Here were statues to Diana and Apollo, and to the
+household Juno--not meant for worship--of course not--but simply to
+conform to the general usages of good society; and so far had this
+complaisance been carried, that the shrine of a peerless Venus was
+adorned with garlands and votive offerings, and an exquisitely wrought
+silver censer diffused its perfume on the marble altar in front. This
+complaisance on the part of some of the younger members of the family
+drew from the elder a gentle remonstrance, as having an unseemly
+appearance for those bearing the Christian name; but they readily
+answered, "Has not Paul said, 'We know that an idol is nothing'? Where
+is the harm of an elegant statue, considered merely as a consummate work
+of art? As for the flowers, are they not simply the most appropriate
+ornament? And where is the harm of burning exquisite perfume? And is it
+worse to burn it in one place than another?"
+
+"Upon my sword," said one of the heathen guests, as he wandered through
+the gay scene, "how liberal and accommodating these Christians are
+becoming! Except in a few small matters in the temple, they seem to be
+with us entirely."
+
+"Ah," said another, "it was not so years back. Nothing was heard among
+them, then, but prayers, and alms, and visits to the poor and sick; and
+when they met together in their feasts, there was so much of their talk
+of Christ, and such singing of hymns and prayer, that one of us found
+himself quite out of place."
+
+"Yes," said an old man present, "in those days I quite bethought me of
+being some day a Christian; but look you, they are grown so near like us
+now, it is scarce worth one's while to change. A little matter of
+ceremony in the temple, and offering incense to Jesus, instead of
+Jupiter, when all else is the same, can make small odds in a man."
+
+But now, the ancient legend goes on to say, that in the midst of that
+gay and brilliant evening, a stranger of remarkable appearance and
+manners was noticed among the throng. None knew him, or whence he came.
+He mingled not in the mirth, and seemed to recognize no one present,
+though he regarded all that was passing with a peculiar air of still and
+earnest attention; and wherever he moved, his calm, penetrating gaze
+seemed to diffuse a singular uneasiness about him. Now his eye was fixed
+with a quiet scrutiny on the idolatrous statues, with their votive
+adornments--now it followed earnestly the young forms that were
+wreathing in the graceful waves of the dance; and then he turned towards
+the tables, loaded with every luxury and sparkling with wines, where the
+devotion to Bacchus became more than poetic fiction; and as he gazed, a
+high, indignant sorrow seemed to overshadow the calmness of his majestic
+face. When, in thoughtless merriment, some of the gay company sought to
+address him, they found themselves shrinking involuntarily from the
+soft, piercing eye, and trembling at the low, sweet tones in which he
+replied. What he spoke was brief; but there was a gravity and tender
+wisdom in it that strangely contrasted with the frivolous scene, and
+awakened unwonted ideas of heavenly purity even in thoughtless and
+dissipated minds.
+
+The only one of the company who seemed to seek his society was the
+youngest, the fair little child Isa. She seemed as strangely attracted
+towards him as others were repelled; and when, unsolicited, in the frank
+confidence of childhood she pressed to his side, and placed her little
+hand in his, the look of radiant compassion and tenderness which beamed
+down from those eyes was indeed glorious to behold. Yet here and there,
+as he glided among the crowd, he spoke in the ear of some Christian
+words which, though soft and low, seemed to have a mysterious and
+startling power; for one after another, pensive, abashed, and
+confounded, they drew aside from the gay scene, and seemed lost in
+thought. That stranger--who was he? Who? The inquiry passed from mouth
+to mouth, and one and another, who had listened to his low, earnest
+tones, looked on each other with a troubled air. Ere long he had glided
+hither and thither in the crowd; he had spoken in the ear of every
+Christian--and suddenly again he was gone, and they saw him no more.
+Each had felt the heart thrill within--each spirit had vibrated as if
+the finger of its Creator had touched it, and shrunk conscious as if an
+omniscient eye were upon it. Each heart was stirred from its depths.
+Vain sophistries, worldly maxims, making the false look true, all
+appeared to rise and clear away like a mist; and at once each one seemed
+to see, as God sees, the true state of the inner world, the true motive
+and reason of action, and in the instinctive pause that passed through
+the company, the banquet was broken up and deserted.
+
+"And what if their God were present?" said one of the heathen members of
+the company, next day. "Why did they all look so blank? A most favorable
+omen, we should call it, to have one's patron divinity at a feast."
+
+"Besides," said another, "these Christians hold that their God is always
+every where present; so, at most, they have but had their eyes opened to
+see Him who is always there!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+What is practically the meaning of the precept, "Be not conformed to the
+world?" In its every-day results, it presents many problems difficult of
+solution. There are so many shades and blendings of situation and
+circumstances, so many things, innocent and graceful in themselves,
+which, like flowers and incense on a heathen altar, become unchristian
+only through position and circumstances, that the most honest and
+well-intentioned are often perplexed.
+
+That we must conform in some things, is conceded; yet the whole tenor of
+the New Testament shows that this conformity must have its limits--that
+Christians are to be _transformed_, so as to exhibit to the world a
+higher and more complete style of life, and thus "_prove_ what is the
+good, and acceptable, and perfect will of God."
+
+But in many particulars as to style of living and modes of social
+intercourse, there can be no definite rules laid down, and no Christian
+can venture to judge another by his standard.
+
+One Christian condemns dress adornment, and the whole application of
+taste to the usages of life, as a sinful waste of time and money.
+Another, perceiving in every work of God a love and appreciation of the
+beautiful, believes that there is a sphere in which he is pleased to see
+the same trait in his children, if the indulgence do not become
+excessive, and thus interfere with higher duties.
+
+One condemns all time and expense laid out in social visiting as so much
+waste. Another remembers that Jesus, when just entering on the most vast
+and absorbing work, turned aside to attend a wedding feast, and wrought
+his first miracle to enhance its social enjoyment. Again, there are
+others who, because _some_ indulgence of taste and some exercise for the
+social powers are admissible, go all lengths in extravagance, and in
+company, dress, and the externals of life.
+
+In the same manner, with regard to style of life and social
+entertainment--most of the items which go to constitute what is called
+style of living, or the style of particular parties, may be in
+themselves innocent, and yet they may be so interwoven and combined with
+evils, that the whole effect shall be felt to be decidedly unchristian,
+both by Christians and the world. How, then, shall the well-disposed
+person know where to stop, and how to strike the just medium?
+
+We know of but one safe rule: read the life of Jesus with
+attention--_study_ it--inquire earnestly with yourself, "What sort of a
+person, in thought, in feeling, in action, was my Savior?"--live in
+constant sympathy and communion with him--and there will be within a
+kind of instinctive rule by which to try all things. A young man, who
+was to be exposed to the temptations of one of the most dissipated
+European capitals, carried with him his father's picture, and hung it in
+his apartment. Before going out to any of the numerous resorts of the
+city, he was accustomed to contemplate this picture, and say to himself,
+"Would my father wish to see me in the place to which I am going?" and
+thus was he saved from many a temptation. In like manner the Christian,
+who has always by his side the beautiful ideal of his Savior, finds it a
+holy charm, by which he is gently restrained from all that is unsuitable
+to his profession. He has but to inquire of any scene or employment,
+"Should I be well pleased to meet my Savior there? Would the trains of
+thought I should there fall into, the state of mind that would there be
+induced, be such as would harmonize with an interview with him?" Thus
+protected and defended, social enjoyment might be like that of Mary and
+John, and the disciples, when, under the mild, approving eye of the Son
+of God, they shared the festivities of Cana.
+
+
+
+
+LITTLE FRED, THE CANAL BOY.
+
+
+PART I.
+
+In the outskirts of the little town of Toledo, in Ohio, might be seen a
+small, one-story cottage, whose external architecture no way
+distinguished it from dozens of other residences of the poor, by which
+it was surrounded. But over this dwelling, a presiding air of sanctity
+and neatness, of quiet and repose, marked it out as different from every
+other.
+
+The little patch before the door, instead of being a loafing ground for
+swine, and a receptacle of litter and filth, was trimly set with
+flowers, weeded, watered, and fenced with dainty care. The scarlet
+bignonia clambered over the mouldering logs of the sides, shrouding
+their roughness in its gorgeous mantle of green and crimson, and the
+good old-fashioned morning glory, laced across the window, unfolded,
+every day, tints whose beauty, though cheap and common, the finest
+French milliner might in vain seek to rival.
+
+When, in travelling the western country, you meet such a dwelling, do
+you not instinctively know what you shall see inside of it? Do you not
+seem to see the trimly-sanded floor, the well-kept furniture, the snowy
+muslin curtain? Are you not sure that on a neat stand you shall see, as
+on an altar, the dear old family Bible, brought, like the ancient ark of
+the covenant, into the far wilderness, and ever overshadowed, as a
+bright cloud, with remembered prayers and counsels of father and mother,
+in a far off New England home?
+
+And in this cottage there was such a Bible, brought from the wild hills
+of New Hampshire, and its middle page recorded the marriage of James
+Sandford to Mary Irving; and alas! after it another record, traced in a
+trembling hand--the death of James Sandford, at Toledo. And this fair,
+thin woman, in the black dress, with soft brown hair parted over a pale
+forehead, with calm, patient blue eyes, and fading cheek, is the once
+energetic, buoyant, light-hearted New Hampshire girl, who has brought
+with her the strongest religious faith, the active practical knowledge,
+the skilful, well-trained hand and clear head, with which cold New
+England portions her daughters. She had left all, and come to the
+western wilds with no other capital than her husband's manly heart and
+active brain--he young, strong, full of hope, prompt, energetic, and
+skilled to acquire--she careful, prudent, steady, no less skilled to
+save; and between the two no better firm for acquisition and prospective
+success could be desired. Every body prophesied that James Sandford
+would succeed, and Mary heard these praises with a quiet exultation. But
+alas! that whole capital of hers--that one strong, young heart, that
+ready, helpful hand--two weeks of the country's fever sufficed to lay
+them cold and low forever.
+
+And Mary yet lived, with her babe in her arms, and one bright little boy
+by her side; and this boy is our little brown-eyed Fred--the hero of our
+story. But few years had rolled over his curly head, when he first
+looked, weeping and wondering, on the face of death. Ah, one look on
+that awful face adds years at once to the age of the heart; and little
+Fred felt manly thoughts aroused in him by the cold stillness of his
+father, and the deep, calm anguish of his mother.
+
+"O mamma, don't cry so, don't," said the little fellow. "I am alive, and
+I can take care of you. Dear mamma, I pray for you every day." And Mary
+was comforted even in her tears and thought, as she looked into those
+clear, loving brown eyes, that her little intercessor would not plead in
+vain; for saith Jesus, "Their angels do always behold the face of my
+Father which is in heaven."
+
+In a few days she learned to look her sorrows calmly in the face, like a
+brave, true woman, as she was. She was a widow, and out of the sudden
+wreck of her husband's plans but a pittance remained to her, and she
+cast about, with busy hand and head, for some means to eke it out. She
+took in sewing--she took in washing and ironing; and happy did the young
+exquisite deem himself, whose shirts came with such faultless plaits,
+such snowy freshness, from the slender hands of Mary. With that
+matchless gift which old Yankee housewives call faculty, Mary kept
+together all the ends of her ravelled skein of life, and began to make
+them wind smoothly. Her baby was the neatest of all babies, as it was
+assuredly the prettiest, and her little Fred the handiest and most
+universal genius of all boys. It was Fred that could wring out all the
+stockings, and hang out all the small clothes, that tended the baby by
+night and by day, that made her a wagon out of an old soap box, in which
+he drew her in triumph; and at their meals he stood reverently in his
+father's place, and with folded hands repeated, "Bless the Lord, O my
+soul, and forget not all his mercies;" and his mother's heart responded
+amen to the simple prayer. Then he learned, with manifold puffing and
+much haggling, to saw wood quite decently, and to swing an axe almost as
+big as himself in wood splitting; and he ran of errands, and did
+business with an air of bustling importance that was edifying to see; he
+knew the prices of lard, butter, and dried apples, as well as any man
+about, and, as the store-keeper approvingly told him, was a smart chap
+at a bargain. Fred grew three inches higher the moment he heard it.
+
+In the evenings after the baby was asleep, Fred sat by his mother with
+slate and book, deep in the mysteries of reading, writing, and
+ciphering; and then the mother and son talked over their little plans,
+and hallowed their nightly rest by prayer; and when, before retiring,
+his mother knelt with him by his little bed and prayed, the child often
+sobbed with a strange emotion, for which he could give no reason.
+Something there is in the voice of real prayer that thrills a child's
+heart, even before he understands it; the holy tones are a kind of
+heavenly music, and far off in distant years, the callous and worldly
+man, often thrills to his heart's core, when some turn of life recalls
+to him his mother's prayer.
+
+So passed the first years of the life of Fred. Meanwhile his little
+sister had come to toddle about the cottage floor, full of insatiable
+and immeasurable schemes of mischief. It was she that upset the clothes
+basket, and pulled over the molasses pitcher on to her own astonished
+head, and with incredible labor upset every pail of water that by
+momentary thoughtlessness was put within reach. It was she that was
+found stuffing poor, solemn old pussy head first into the water jar,
+that wiped up the floor with her mother's freshly-ironed clothes, and
+jabbered meanwhile, in most unexampled Babylonish dialect, her own
+vindications and explanations of these misdemeanors. Every day her
+mother declared that she must begin to get that child into some kind of
+order; but still the merry little curly pate contemned law and order,
+and laughed at all ideas of retributive justice, and Fred and his mother
+laughed and deplored, in the same invariable succession, the various
+direful results of her activity and enterprise.
+
+But still, as Mary toiled on, heavy cares weighed down her heart. Her
+boy grew larger and larger, and her own health grew feebler in
+proportion as it needed to be stronger. Sometimes a whole week at a time
+found her scarce able to crawl from her bed, shaking with ague, or
+burning with fever; and when there is little or nothing with which to
+replace them, how fast food seems to be consumed, and clothing to be
+worn out! And so at length it came to pass that, notwithstanding the
+labors of the most tireless of needles, and the cutting, clipping, and
+contriving of the most ingenious of hands, the poor mother was forced to
+own to herself that her darlings looked really shabby, and kind
+neighbors one by one hinted and said that she must do something with her
+boy--that he was old enough to earn his own living; and the same idea
+occurred to the spirited little fellow himself.
+
+He had often been along by the side of the canal, and admired the
+horses; for between a horse and Fred there was a perfect magnetic
+sympathy, and no lot in life looked to him so bright and desirable as to
+be able to sit on a horse and drive all day long; and when Captain W.,
+pleased with the boy's bright face and prompt motions, sought to enlist
+him as one of his drivers, he found a delighted listener. "If he could
+only persuade mother, there was nothing like it." For many nights after
+the matter was proposed, Mary only cried; and all Fred's eloquence, and
+his brave promises of never doing any thing wrong, and being the best of
+all supposable boys, were insufficient to console her.
+
+Every time she looked at the neat, pure little bed, beside her own, that
+bed hallowed by so many prayers, and saw her boy, with his glowing
+cheeks and long and dark lashes, sleeping so innocently and trustfully,
+her heart died within her, as she thought of a dirty berth on the canal
+boat, and rough boatmen, swearing, chewing tobacco, and drinking; and
+should she take her darling from her bosom and throw him out among
+these? Ah, happy mother! look at your little son of ten years, and ask
+yourself, if you were obliged to do this, should you not tremble! Give
+God thanks, therefore, you can hold your child to your heart till he is
+old enough to breast the dark wave of life. The poor must throw them in,
+to sink or swim, as happens. Not for ease--not for freedom from
+care--not for commodious house and fine furniture, and all that
+competence gives, should you thank God so much as for this, that you are
+able to shelter, guide, restrain, and educate the helpless years of your
+children.
+
+Mary yielded at last to that master who can subdue all wills--necessity.
+Sorrowfully, yet with hope in God, she made up the little package for
+her boy, and communicated to him with renewed minuteness her parting
+counsels and instructions. Fred was bright and full of hope. He was sure
+of the great point about which his mother's anxiety clustered--he should
+be a good boy, he knew he should; he never should swear; he never should
+touch a drop of spirits, no matter who asked him--that he was sure of.
+Then he liked horses so much: he should ride all day and never get
+tired, and he would come back and bring her some money; and so the boy
+and his mother parted.
+
+Physical want or hardship is not the great thing which a mother need
+dread for her child in our country. There is scarce any situation in
+America where a child would not receive, as a matter of course, good
+food and shelter; nor is he often overworked. In these respects a
+general spirit of good nature is perceptible among employers, so that
+our Fred meets none of the harrowing adventures of an Oliver Twist in
+his new situation.
+
+To be sure he soon found it was not as good fun to ride a horse hour
+after hour, and day after day, as it was to prance and caper about for
+the first few minutes. At first his back ached, and his little hands
+grew stiff, and he wished his turn were out, hours before the time; but
+time mended all this. He grew healthy and strong, and though
+occasionally kicked and tumbled about rather unceremoniously by the
+rough men among whom he had been cast, yet, as they said, "he was a chap
+that always came down on his feet, throw him which way you would;" and
+for this reason he was rather a favorite among them. The fat, black
+cook, who piqued himself particularly on making corn cake and singing
+Methodist hymns in a style of unsurpassed excellence, took Fred into
+particular favor, and being equally at home in kitchen and camp meeting
+lore, not only put by for him various dainty scraps and fragments, but
+also undertook to further his moral education by occasional luminous
+exhortations and expositions of Scripture, which somewhat puzzled poor
+Fred, and greatly amused the deck hands.
+
+Often, after driving all day, Fred sat on deck beside his fat friend,
+while the boat glided on through miles and miles of solemn, unbroken old
+woods, and heard him sing about "de New Jerusalem," about "good old
+Moses, and Paul, and Silas," with a kind of dreamy, wild pleasure. To be
+sure it was not like his mother's singing; but then it had a sort of
+good sound, although he never could very precisely make out the meaning.
+
+As to being a good boy, Fred, to do him justice, certainly tried to very
+considerable purpose. He did not swear as yet, although he heard so much
+of it daily that it seemed the most natural thing in the world; and
+although one and another of the hands often offered him tempting
+portions of their potations, as they said, "to make a man of him," yet
+Fred faithfully kept his little temperance pledge to his mother. Many a
+weary hour, as he rode, and rode, and rode through hundreds of miles of
+unvarying forest, he strengthened his good resolutions by thoughts of
+home and its scenes.
+
+There sat his mother; there stood his own little bed; there his baby
+sister, toddling about in her night gown; and he repeated the prayers
+and sung the hymns his mother taught him, and thus the good seed still
+grew within him. In fact, with no very distinguished adventures, Fred
+achieved the journey to Cincinnati and back, and proud of his laurels,
+and with his wages in his pocket, found himself again at the familiar
+door.
+
+Poor Fred! a sad surprise awaited him. The elfin shadow that was once
+ever flitting about the dwelling was gone; the little pattering
+footsteps, the tireless, busy fingers, all gone! and his mother, paler,
+sicker, sadder than before, clasped him to her bosom, and called him her
+only comfort. Fred had brought a pocket full of sugar plums, and the
+brightest of yellow oranges to his little pet; alas! how mournfully he
+regarded them now!
+
+How little do we realize, when we hear that such and such a poor woman
+has lost her baby, how much is implied to her in the loss! She is poor;
+she must work hard; the child was a great addition to her cares; and
+even pitying neighbors say, "It was better for her, poor thing! and for
+the child too." But perhaps this very child was the only flower of a
+life else wholly barren and desolate. There is often, even in the
+humblest and most uncultured nature, an undefined longing and pining for
+the beautiful. It expresses itself sometimes in the love of birds and of
+flowers, and one sees the rosebush or the canary bird in a dwelling from
+which is banished every trace of luxury. But the little child, with its
+sweet, spiritual eyes, its thousand bird-like tones, its prattling,
+endearing ways, its guileless, loving heart, is a full and perfect
+answer to the most ardent craving of the soul. It is a whole little Eden
+of itself; and the poor woman whose whole life else is one dreary waste
+of toil, clasps her babe to her bosom, and feels proud, and rich, and
+happy. Truly said the Son of God, "Of such are the kingdom of heaven."
+
+Poor Mary! how glad she was to see her boy again--most of all, that they
+could talk together of their lost one! How they discoursed for hours
+about her! How they cried together over the little faded bonnet, that
+once could scarce be kept for a moment on the busy, curly head! How they
+treasured, as relics, the small finger marks on the doors, and
+consecrated with sacred care even the traces of her merry mischief about
+the cottage, and never tired of telling over to each other, with smiles
+and tears, the record of the past gleesome pranks!
+
+But the fact was, that Mary herself was fast wearing away. She had borne
+up bravely against life; but she had but a gentle nature, and gradually
+she sank from day to day. Fred was her patient, unwearied nurse, and
+neighbors--never wanting in such kindnesses as they can
+understand--supplied her few wants. The child never wanted for food, and
+the mantle shelf was filled with infallible specifics, each one of which
+was able, according to the showing, to insure perfect recovery in every
+case whatever; and yet, strange to tell, she still declined. At last,
+one still autumn morning, Fred awoke, and started at the icy coldness of
+the hand clasped in his own. He looked in his mother's face; it was
+sweet and calm as that of a sleeping infant, but he knew in his heart
+that she was dead.
+
+
+PART II.
+
+Months afterwards, a cold December day found Fred turned loose in the
+streets of Cincinnati. Since his mother's death he had driven on the
+canal boat; but now the boat was to lie by for winter, and the hands of
+course turned loose to find employment till spring. Fred was told that
+he must look up a place; every body was busy about their own affairs,
+and he must shift for himself; and so with half his wages in his pocket,
+and promises for the rest, he started to seek his fortune.
+
+It was a cold, cheerless, gray-eyed day, with an air that pinched
+fingers and toes, and seemed to penetrate one's clothes like snow
+water--such a day as it needs the brightest fire and the happiest heart
+to get along at all with; and, unluckily, Fred had neither. Christmas
+was approaching, and all the shops had put on their holiday dresses; the
+confectioners' windows were glittering with sparkling pyramids of candy,
+with frosted cake, and unfading fruits and flowers of the very best of
+sugar. There, too, was Santa Claus, large as life, with queer, wrinkled
+visage, and back bowed with the weight of all desirable knickknacks,
+going down chimney, in sight of all the children of Cincinnati, who
+gathered around the shop with constantly-renewed acclamations. On all
+sides might be seen the little people, thronging, gazing, chattering,
+while anxious papas and mammas in the shops were gravely discussing tin
+trumpets, dolls, spades, wheelbarrows, and toy wagons.
+
+Fred never had heard of the man who said, "How sad a thing it is to look
+into happiness through another man's eyes!" but he felt something very
+like it as he moved through the gay and bustling streets, where every
+body seemed to be finding what they wanted but himself.
+
+He had determined to keep up a stout heart; but in spite of himself, all
+this bustling show and merriment made him feel sadder and sadder, and
+lonelier and lonelier. He knocked and rang at door after door, but
+nobody wanted a boy: nobody ever does want a boy when a boy is wanting a
+place. He got tired of ringing door bells, and tried some of the shops.
+No, they didn't want him. One said if he was bigger he might do; another
+wanted to know if he could keep accounts; one thought that the man
+around the corner wanted a boy, and when Fred got there he had just
+engaged one. Weary, disappointed, and discouraged, he sat down by the
+iron railing that fenced a showy house, and thought what he should do.
+It was almost five in the afternoon: cold, dismal, leaden-gray was the
+sky--the darkness already coming on. Fred sat listlessly watching the
+great snow feathers, as they slowly sailed down from the sky. Now he
+heard gay laughs, as groups of merry children passed; and then he
+started, as he saw some woman in a black bonnet, and thought she looked
+like his mother. But all passed, and nobody looked at him, nobody wanted
+him, nobody noticed him.
+
+Just then a patter of little feet was heard behind him on the
+flagstones, and a soft, baby voice said, "How do 'oo do?" Fred turned in
+amazement; and there stood a plump, rosy little creature of about two
+years, with dimpled cheek, ruby lips, and long, fair hair curling about
+her sweet face. She was dressed in a blue pelisse, trimmed with swan's
+down, and her complexion was so exquisitely fair, her eyes so clear and
+sweet, that Fred felt almost as if it were an angel. The little thing
+toddled up to him, and holding up before him a new wax doll, all
+splendid in silk and lace, seemed quite disposed to make his
+acquaintance. Fred thought of his lost sister, and his eyes filled up
+with tears. The little one put up one dimpled hand to wipe them away,
+while with the other holding up before him the wax doll, she said,
+coaxingly, "No no ky."
+
+Just then the house door opened, and a lady, richly dressed, darted out,
+exclaiming, "Why, Mary, you little rogue, how came you out here?" Then
+stopping short, and looking narrowly on Fred, she said, somewhat
+sharply, "Whose boy are you? and how came you here?"
+
+"I'm nobody's boy," said Fred, getting up, with a bitter choking in his
+throat; "my mother's dead; I only sat down here to rest me for a while."
+
+"Well, run away from here," said the lady; but the little girl pressed
+before her mother, and jabbering very earnestly in unimaginable English,
+seemed determined to give Fred her wax doll, in which, she evidently
+thought, resided every possible consolation.
+
+The lady felt in her pocket and found a quarter, which she threw towards
+Fred. "There, my boy, that will get you lodging and supper, and
+to-morrow you can find some place to work, I dare say;" and she hurried
+in with the little girl, and shut the door.
+
+It was not money that Fred wanted just then, and he picked up the
+quarter with a heavy heart. The sky looked darker, and the street
+drearier, and the cold wind froze the tear on his cheeks as he walked
+listlessly down the street in the dismal twilight.
+
+"I can go back to the canal boat, and find the cook," he thought to
+himself. "He told me I might sleep with him to-night if I couldn't find
+a place;" and he quickened his steps with this determination. Just as he
+was passing a brightly-lighted coffee house, familiar voices hailed him,
+and Fred stopped; he would be glad even to see a dog he had ever met
+before, and of course he was glad when two boys, old canal boat
+acquaintances, hailed him, and invited him into the coffee house. The
+blazing fire was a brave light on that dismal night, and the faces of
+the two boys were full of glee, and they began rallying Fred on his
+doleful appearance, and insisting on it that he should take something
+warm with them.
+
+Fred hesitated a moment; but he was tired and desperate, and the
+steaming, well-sweetened beverage was too tempting. "Who cares for me?"
+thought he, "and why should I care?" and down went the first spirituous
+liquor the boy had ever tasted; and in a few moments, he felt a
+wonderful change. He was no longer a timid, cold, disheartened,
+heart-sick boy, but felt somehow so brave, so full of hope and courage,
+that he began to swagger, to laugh very loud, and to boast in such high
+terms of the money in his pocket, and of his future intentions and
+prospects, that the two boys winked significantly at each other. They
+proposed, after sitting a while, to walk out and see the shop windows.
+All three of the boys had taken enough to put them to extra merriment;
+but Fred, who was entirely unused to the stimulant, was quite beside
+himself. If they sung, he shouted; if they laughed, he screamed; and he
+thought within himself he never had heard and thought so many witty
+things as on that very evening. At last they fell in with quite a press
+of boys, who were crowding round a confectionery window, and, as usual
+in such cases, there began an elbowing and scuffling contest for places,
+in which Fred was quite conspicuous. At last a big boy presumed on his
+superior size to edge in front of our hero, and cut off his prospect;
+and Fred, without more ado, sent him smashing through the shop window.
+There was a general scrabble, every one ran for himself, and Fred, never
+having been used to the business, was not very skilful in escaping, and
+of course was caught, and committed to an officer, who, with small
+ceremony, carried him off and locked him up in the watch house, from
+which he was the next morning taken before the mayor, and after
+examination sent to jail.
+
+This sobered Fred. He came to himself as out of a dream, and he was
+overwhelmed with an agony of shame and self-reproach. He had broken his
+promise to his dead mother--he had been drinking! and his heart failed
+him when he thought of the horrors that his mother had always associated
+with that word. And then he was in jail--that place that his mother had
+always represented as an almost impossible horror, the climax of shame
+and disgrace. The next night the poor boy stretched himself on his hard,
+lonely bed, and laid under his head his little bundle, containing his
+few clothes and his mother's Bible, and then sobbed himself to sleep.
+
+Cold and gray dawned the following morning on little Fred, as he slowly
+and heavily awoke, and with a bitter chill of despair recalled the
+events of the last two nights, and looked up at the iron-grated window,
+and round on the cheerless walls; and, as if in bitter contrast, arose
+before him an image of his lost home--the neat, quiet room, the white
+curtains and snowy floor, his mother's bed, with his own little cot
+beside it, and his mother's mild blue eyes, as they looked upon him only
+six months ago. Mechanically he untied the check handkerchief which
+contained his few clothes, and worldly possessions, and relics of home.
+
+There was the small, clean-printed Bible his mother had given him with
+so many tears on their first parting; there was a lock of her soft brown
+hair; there, too, were a pair of little worn shoes and stockings, a
+baby's rattle, and a curl of golden hair, which he had laid up in memory
+of his lost little pet. Fred laid his head down over all these, his
+forlorn treasures, and sobbed as if his heart would break.
+
+After a while the jailer came in, and really seemed affected by the
+distress of the child, and said what he could to console him; and in the
+course of the day, as the boy "seemed to be so lonesome like," he
+introduced another boy into the room as company for him. This was a
+cruel mercy; for while the child was alone with himself and the memories
+of the past, he was, if sad, at least safe, and in a few hours after
+this new introduction he was neither. His new companion was a tall boy
+of fourteen, with small, cunning, gray eyes, to which a slight cast gave
+an additional expression of shrewdness and drollery. He was a young
+gentleman of great natural talent,--in a certain line,--with very
+precocious attainments in all that kind of information which a boy gains
+by running at large for several years in a city's streets without any
+thing particular to do, or any body in particular to obey--any
+conscience, any principle, any fear either of God or man. We should not
+say that he had never seen the inside of a church, for he had been, for
+various purposes, into every one of the city, and to every camp meeting
+for miles around; and so much had he profited by these exercises, that
+he could mimic to perfection every minister who had any perceptible
+peculiarity, could caricature every species of psalm-singing, and give
+ludicrous imitations of every form of worship. Then he was _au fait_ in
+all coffee house lore, and knew the names and qualities of every kind of
+beverage therein compounded; and as to smoking and chewing, the first
+elements of which he mastered when he was about six years old, he was
+now a _connoisseur_ in the higher branches. He had been in jail dozens
+of times--rather liked the fun; had served one term on the
+chain-gang--not so bad either--shouldn't mind another--learned a good
+many prime things there.
+
+At first Fred seemed inclined to shrink from his new associate. An
+instinctive feeling, like the warning of an invisible angel, seemed to
+whisper, "Beware!" But he was alone, with a heart full of bitter
+thoughts, and the sight of a fellow-face was some comfort. Then his
+companion was so dashing, so funny, so free and easy, and seemed to make
+such a comfortable matter of being in jail, that Fred's heart, naturally
+buoyant, began to come up again in his breast. Dick Jones soon drew out
+of him his simple history as to how he came there, and finding that he
+was a raw hand, seemed to feel bound to patronize and take him under his
+wing. He laughed quite heartily at Fred's story, and soon succeeded in
+getting him to laugh at it too.
+
+How strange!--the very scenes that in the morning he looked at only with
+bitter anguish and remorse, this noon he was laughing at as good
+jokes--so much for the influence of good society! An instinctive
+feeling, soon after Dick Jones came in, led Fred to push his little
+bundle into the farthest corner, under the bed, far out of sight or
+inquiry; and the same reason led him to suppress all mention of his
+mother, and all the sacred part of his former life. He did this more
+studiously, because, having once accidentally remarked how his mother
+used to forbid him certain things, the well-educated Dick broke out,--
+
+"Well, for my part, I could whip my mother when I wa'n't higher than
+_that_!" with a significant gesture.
+
+"Whip your mother!" exclaimed Fred, with a face full of horror.
+
+"To be sure, greenie! Why not? Precious fun it was in those times. I
+used to slip in and steal the old woman's whiskey and sugar when she was
+just too far over to walk a crack--she'd throw the tongs at me, and I'd
+throw the shovel at her, and so it went square and square."
+
+Goethe says somewhere, "Miserable is that man whose _mother_ has not
+made all other mothers venerable." Our new acquaintance bade fair to
+come under this category.
+
+Fred's education, under this talented instructor, made progress. He sat
+hours and hours laughing at his stories--sometimes obscene, sometimes
+profane, but always so full of life, drollery, and mimicry that a more
+steady head than Fred's was needed to withstand the contagion. Dick had
+been to the theatre--knew it all like a book, and would take Fred there
+as soon as they got out; then he had a first-rate pack of cards, and he
+could teach Fred to play; and the gay tempters were soon spread out on
+their bed, and Fred and his instructor sat hour after hour absorbed in
+what to him was a new world of interest. He soon learned, could play for
+small stakes, and felt in himself the first glimmering of that fire
+which, when fully kindled, many waters cannot quench, nor floods drown!
+
+Dick was, as we said, precocious. He had the cool eye and steady hand of
+an experienced gamester, and in a few days he won, of course, all Fred's
+little earnings. But then he was quite liberal and free with his money.
+He added to their prison fare such various improvements as his abundance
+of money enabled him to buy. He had brought with him the foundation of
+good cheer in a capacious bottle which emerged the first night from his
+pocket, for he said he never went to jail without his provision; then
+hot water, and sugar, and lemons, and peppermint drops were all
+forthcoming for money, and Fred learned once and again, and again, the
+fatal secret of hushing conscience, and memory, and bitter despair in
+delirious happiness, and as Dick said, was "getting to be a right jolly
+'un that would make something yet."
+
+And was it all gone, all washed away by this sudden wave of evil?--every
+trace of prayer, and hope, and sacred memory in this poor child's heart?
+No, not all; for many a night, when his tempter slept by his side, the
+child lived over the past; again he kneeled in prayer, and felt his
+mother's guardian hand on his head, and he wept tears of bitter remorse,
+and wondered at the dread change that had come over him. Then he
+dreamed, and he saw his mother and sister walking in white, fair as
+angels, and would go to them; but between him and them was a great gulf
+fixed, which widened and widened, and grew darker and darker, till he
+could see them no more, and he awoke in utter misery and despair.
+
+Again and again he resolved, in the darkness of the night, that
+to-morrow he would not drink, and he would not speak a wicked word, and
+he would not play cards, nor laugh at Dick's bad stories. Ah, how many
+such midnight resolves have evil angels sneered at and good ones sighed
+over! for with daylight back comes the old temptation, and with it the
+old mind; and with daylight came back the inexorable prison walls which
+held Fred and his successful tempter together.
+
+At last he gave himself up. No, he could not be good with Dick--there
+was no use in trying!--and he made no more midnight resolves, and drank
+more freely of the dreadful remedy for unquiet thoughts.
+
+And now is Fred growing in truth a wicked boy. In a little while more
+and he shall be such a one as you will on no account take under your
+roof, lest he corrupt your own children; and yet, father, mother, look
+at your son of twelve years, your bright, darling boy, and think of him
+shut up for a month with such a companion, in such a cell, and ask
+yourselves if he would be any better.
+
+And was there no eye, heavenly or earthly, to look after this lost one?
+Was there no eye which could see through all the traces of sin, the yet
+lingering drops of that baptism and early prayer and watchfulness which
+consecrated it? Yes; He whose mercy extends to the third and fourth
+generations of those who love him, sent a friend to our poor boy in his
+last distress.
+
+It is one of the most refined and characteristic modifications of
+Christianity, that those who are themselves sheltered, guarded, fenced
+by good education, knowledge, and competence, appoint and sustain a
+pastor and guardian in our large cities to be the shepherd of the
+wandering and lost, and of them who, in the Scripture phrase, "have none
+to help." Justly is he called the "City Missionary," for what is more
+truly missionary ground? In the hospital, among the old, the sick, the
+friendless, the forlorn--in the prison, among the hardened, the
+blaspheming--among the discouraged and despairing, still holding with
+unsteady hand on to some forlorn fragment of virtue and self-respect,
+goes this missionary to stir the dying embers of good, to warn, entreat,
+implore, to adjure by sacred recollections of father, mother, and home,
+the fallen wanderers to return. He finds friends, and places, and
+employment for some, and by timely aid and encouragement saves many a
+one from destruction.
+
+In this friendly shape appeared a man of prayer to visit the cell in
+which Fred was confined. Dick listened to his instructions with cool
+complacency, rolling his tobacco from side to side in his mouth, and
+meditating on him as a subject for some future histrionic exercise of
+his talent.
+
+But his voice was as welcome to poor Fred as daylight in a dungeon. All
+the smothered remorse and despair of his heart burst forth in bitter
+confessions, as, with many tears, he poured forth his story to the
+friendly man. It needs not to prolong our story, for now the day has
+dawned and the hour of release is come.
+
+It is not needful to carry our readers through all the steps by which
+Fred was transferred, first to the fireside of the friendly missionary,
+and afterwards to the guardian care of a good old couple who resided on
+a thriving farm not far from Cincinnati. Set free from evil influences,
+the first carefully planted and watered seeds of good began to grow
+again, and he became as a son to the kind family who had adopted him.
+
+
+
+
+THE CANAL BOAT.
+
+
+Of all the ways of travelling which obtain among our locomotive nation,
+this said vehicle, the canal boat, is the most absolutely prosaic and
+inglorious. There is something picturesque, nay, almost sublime, in the
+lordly march of your well-built, high-bred steamboat. Go, take your
+stand on some overhanging bluff, where the blue Ohio winds its thread of
+silver, or the sturdy Mississippi tears its path through unbroken
+forests, and it will do your heart good to see the gallant boat walking
+the waters with unbroken and powerful tread; and, like some fabled
+monster of the wave, breathing fire, and making the shores resound with
+its deep respirations. Then there is something mysterious, even awful,
+in the power of steam. See it curling up against a blue sky, some rosy
+morning--graceful, floating, intangible, and to all appearance the
+softest and gentlest of all spiritual things; and then think that it is
+this fairy spirit that keeps all the world alive and hot with motion;
+think how excellent a servant it is, doing all sorts of gigantic works,
+like the genii of old; and yet, if you let slip the talisman only for a
+moment, what terrible advantage it will take of you! and you will
+confess that steam has some claims both to the beautiful and the
+terrible. For our own part, when we are down among the machinery of a
+steamboat in full play, we conduct ourself very reverently, for we
+consider it as a very serious neighborhood; and every time the steam
+whizzes with such red-hot determination from the escape valve, we start
+as if some of the spirits were after us. But in a canal boat there is no
+power, no mystery, no danger; one cannot blow up, one cannot be drowned,
+unless by some special effort: one sees clearly all there is in the
+case--a horse, a rope, and a muddy strip of water--and that is all.
+
+Did you ever try it, reader? If not, take an imaginary trip with us,
+just for experiment. "There's the boat!" exclaims a passenger in the
+omnibus, as we are rolling down from the Pittsburg Mansion House to the
+canal. "Where?" exclaim a dozen of voices, and forthwith a dozen heads
+go out of the window. "Why, down there, under that bridge; don't you see
+those lights?" "What! that little thing?" exclaims an inexperienced
+traveller; "dear me! we can't half of us get into it!" "We! indeed,"
+says some old hand in the business; "I think you'll find it will hold us
+and a dozen more loads like us." "Impossible!" say some. "You'll see,"
+say the initiated; and, as soon as you get out, you _do_ see, and hear
+too, what seems like a general breaking loose from the Tower of Babel,
+amid a perfect hail storm of trunks, boxes, valises, carpet bags, and
+every describable and indescribable form of what a westerner calls
+"plunder."
+
+"That's my trunk!" barks out a big, round man. "That's my bandbox!"
+screams a heart-stricken old lady, in terror for her immaculate Sunday
+caps. "Where's my little red box? I had two carpet bags and a--My trunk
+had a scarle--Halloo! where are you going with that portmanteau?
+Husband! husband! do see after the large basket and the little hair
+trunk--O, and the baby's little chair!" "Go below--go below, for mercy's
+sake, my dear; I'll see to the baggage." At last, the feminine part of
+creation, perceiving that, in this particular instance, they gain
+nothing by public speaking, are content to be led quietly under hatches;
+and amusing is the look of dismay which each new comer gives to the
+confined quarters that present themselves. Those who were so ignorant of
+the power of compression as to suppose the boat scarce large enough to
+contain them and theirs, find, with dismay, a respectable colony of old
+ladies, babies, mothers, big baskets, and carpet bags already
+established. "Mercy on us!" says one, after surveying the little room,
+about ten feet long and six high, "where are we all to sleep to-night?"
+"O me! what a sight of children!" says a young lady, in a despairing
+tone. "Poh!" says an initiated traveller; "children! scarce any here;
+let's see: one; the woman in the corner, two; that child with the bread
+and butter, three; and then there's that other woman with two. Really,
+it's quite moderate for a canal boat. However, we can't tell till they
+have all come."
+
+"All! for mercy's sake, you don't say there are any more coming!"
+exclaim two or three in a breath; "they _can't_ come; _there is not
+room_!"
+
+Notwithstanding the impressive utterance of this sentence, the contrary
+is immediately demonstrated by the appearance of a very corpulent,
+elderly lady, with three well-grown daughters, who come down looking
+about them most complacently, entirely regardless of the unchristian
+looks of the company. What a mercy it is that fat people are always good
+natured!
+
+After this follows an indiscriminate raining down of all shapes, sizes,
+sexes, and ages--men, women, children, babies, and nurses. The state of
+feeling becomes perfectly desperate. Darkness gathers on all faces. "We
+shall be smothered! we shall be crowded to death! we _can't stay_ here!"
+are heard faintly from one and another; and yet, though the boat grows
+no wider, the walls no higher, they do live, and do stay there, in spite
+of repeated protestations to the contrary. Truly, as Sam Slick says,
+"there's a _sight of wear_ in human natur'."
+
+But, meanwhile, the children grow sleepy, and divers interesting little
+duets and trios arise from one part or another of the cabin.
+
+"Hush, Johnny! be a good boy," says a pale, nursing mamma, to a great,
+bristling, white-headed phenomenon, who is kicking very much at large in
+her lap.
+
+"I won't be a good boy, neither," responds Johnny, with interesting
+explicitness; "I want to go to bed, and so-o-o-o!" and Johnny makes up a
+mouth as big as a teacup, and roars with good courage, and his mamma
+asks him "if he ever saw pa do so," and tells him that "he is mamma's
+dear, good little boy, and must not make a noise," with various
+observations of the kind, which are so strikingly efficacious in such
+cases. Meanwhile, the domestic concert in other quarters proceeds with
+vigor. "Mamma, I'm tired!" bawls a child. "Where's the baby's night
+gown?" calls a nurse. "Do take Peter up in your lap, and keep him
+still." "Pray get out some biscuits to stop their mouths." Meanwhile,
+sundry babies strike in "con spirito," as the music books have it, and
+execute various flourishes; the disconsolate mothers sigh, and look as
+if all was over with them; and the young ladies appear extremely
+disgusted, and wonder "what business women have to be travelling round
+with babies."
+
+To these troubles succeeds the turning-out scene, when the whole caravan
+is ejected into the gentlemen's cabin, that the beds may be made. The
+red curtains are put down, and in solemn silence all, the last
+mysterious preparations begin. At length it is announced that all is
+ready. Forthwith the whole company rush back, and find the walls
+embellished by a series of little shelves, about a foot wide, each
+furnished with a mattress and bedding, and hooked to the ceiling by a
+very suspiciously slender cord. Direful are the ruminations and
+exclamations of inexperienced travellers, particularly young ones, as
+they eye these very equivocal accommodations. "What, sleep up there! _I_
+won't sleep on one of those top shelves, _I_ know. The cords will
+certainly break." The chambermaid here takes up the conversation, and
+solemnly assures them that such an accident is not to be thought of at
+all; that it is a natural impossibility--a thing that could not happen
+without an actual miracle; and since it becomes increasingly evident
+that thirty ladies cannot all sleep on the lowest shelf, there is some
+effort made to exercise faith in this doctrine; nevertheless, all look
+on their neighbors with fear and trembling; and when the stout lady
+talks of taking a shelf, she is most urgently pressed to change places
+with her alarmed neighbor below. Points of location being after a while
+adjusted, comes the last struggle. Every body wants to take off a
+bonnet, or look for a shawl, to find a cloak, or get a carpet bag, and
+all set about it with such zeal that nothing can be done. "Ma'am, you're
+on my foot!" says one. "Will you please to move, ma'am?" says somebody,
+who is gasping and struggling behind you. "Move!" you echo. "Indeed, I
+should be very glad to, but I don't see much prospect of it."
+"Chambermaid!" calls a lady, who is struggling among a heap of carpet
+bags and children at one end of the cabin. "Ma'am!" echoes the poor
+chambermaid, who is wedged fast, in a similar situation, at the other.
+"Where's my cloak, chambermaid?" "I'd find it, ma'am, if I could move."
+"Chambermaid, my basket!" "Chambermaid, my parasol!" "Chambermaid, my
+carpet bag!" "Mamma, they push me so!" "Hush, child; crawl under there,
+and lie still till I can undress you." At last, however, the various
+distresses are over, the babies sink to sleep, and even that
+much-enduring being, the chambermaid, seeks out some corner for repose.
+Tired and drowsy, you are just sinking into a doze, when bang! goes the
+boat against the sides of a lock; ropes scrape, men run and shout, and
+up fly the heads of all the top shelfites, who are generally the more
+juvenile and airy part of the company.
+
+"What's that! what's that!" flies from mouth to mouth; and forthwith
+they proceed to awaken their respective relations. "Mother! Aunt Hannah!
+do wake up; what is this awful noise?" "O, only a lock!" "Pray be
+still," groan out the sleepy members from below.
+
+"A lock!" exclaim the vivacious creatures, ever on the alert for
+information; "and what _is_ a lock, pray?"
+
+"Don't you know what a lock is, you silly creatures? Do lie down and go
+to sleep."
+
+"But say, there ain't any _danger_ in a lock, is there?" respond the
+querists. "Danger!" exclaims a deaf old lady, poking up her head;
+"what's the matter? There hain't nothin' burst, has there?" "No, no,
+no!" exclaim the provoked and despairing opposition party, who find that
+there is no such thing as going to sleep till they have made the old
+lady below and the young ladies above understand exactly the philosophy
+of a lock. After a while the conversation again subsides; again all is
+still; you hear only the trampling of horses and the rippling of the
+rope in the water, and sleep again is stealing over you. You doze, you
+dream, and all of a sudden you are started by a cry, "Chambermaid! wake
+up the lady that wants to be set ashore." Up jumps chambermaid, and up
+jump the lady and two children, and forthwith form a committee of
+inquiry as to ways and means. "Where's my bonnet?" says the lady, half
+awake, and fumbling among the various articles of that name. "I thought
+I hung it up behind the door." "Can't you find it?" says poor
+chambermaid, yawning and rubbing her eyes. "O, yes, here it is," says
+the lady; and then the cloak, the shawl, the gloves, the shoes, receive
+each a separate discussion. At last all seems ready, and they begin to
+move off, when, lo! Peter's cap is missing. "Now, where can it be?"
+soliloquizes the lady. "I put it right here by the table leg; maybe it
+got into some of the berths." At this suggestion, the chambermaid takes
+the candle, and goes round deliberately to every berth, poking the light
+directly in the face of every sleeper. "Here it is," she exclaims,
+pulling at something black under one pillow. "No, indeed, those are my
+shoes," says the vexed sleeper. "Maybe it's here," she resumes, darting
+upon something dark in another berth. "No, that's my bag," responds the
+occupant. The chambermaid then proceeds to turn over all the children on
+the floor, to see if it is not under them. In the course of which
+process they are most agreeably waked up and enlivened; and when every
+body is broad awake, and most uncharitably wishing the cap, and Peter
+too, at the bottom of the canal, the good lady exclaims, "Well, if this
+isn't lucky; here I had it safe in my basket all the time!" And she
+departs amid the--what shall I say?--execrations?--of the whole company,
+ladies though they be.
+
+Well, after this follows a hushing up and wiping up among the juvenile
+population, and a series of remarks commences from the various shelves,
+of a very edifying and instructive tendency. One says that the woman did
+not seem to know where any thing was; another says that she has waked
+them all up; a third adds that she has waked up all the children, too;
+and the elderly ladies make moral reflections on the importance of
+putting your things where you can find them--being always ready; which
+observations, being delivered in an exceedingly doleful and drowsy tone,
+form a sort of sub-bass to the lively chattering of the upper shelfites,
+who declare that they feel quite wide awake,--that they don't think they
+shall go to sleep again to-night,--and discourse over every thing in
+creation, until you heartily wish you were enough related to them to
+give them a scolding.
+
+At last, however, voice after voice drops off; you fall into a most
+refreshing slumber; it seems to you that you sleep about a quarter of an
+hour, when the chambermaid pulls you by the sleeve. "Will you please to
+get up, ma'am? We want to make the beds." You start and stare. Sure
+enough, the night is gone. So much for sleeping on board canal boats.
+
+Let us not enumerate the manifold perplexities of the morning toilet in
+a place where every lady realizes most forcibly the condition of the old
+woman who lived under a broom: "All she wanted was elbow room." Let us
+not tell how one glass is made to answer for thirty fair faces, one ewer
+and vase for thirty lavations; and--tell it not in Gath!--one towel for
+a company! Let us not intimate how ladies' shoes have, in a night,
+clandestinely slid into the gentlemen's cabin, and gentlemen's boots
+elbowed, or, rather, _toed_ their way among ladies' gear, nor recite the
+exclamations after runaway property that are heard. "I can't find
+nothin' of Johnny's shoe!" "Here's a shoe in the water pitcher--is this
+it?" "My side combs are gone!" exclaims a nymph with dishevelled curls.
+"Massy! do look at my bonnet!" exclaims an old lady, elevating an
+article crushed into as many angles as there are pieces in a minced pie.
+"I never did sleep _so much together_ in my life," echoes a poor little
+French lady, whom despair has driven into talking English.
+
+But our shortening paper warns us not to prolong our catalogue of
+distresses beyond reasonable bounds, and therefore we will close with
+advising all our friends, who intend to try this way of travelling for
+_pleasure_, to take a good stock both of patience and clean towels with
+them, for we think that they will find abundant need for both.
+
+
+
+
+FEELING.
+
+
+There is one way of studying human nature, which surveys mankind only as
+a set of instruments for the accomplishment of personal plans. There is
+another, which regards them simply as a gallery of pictures, to be
+admired or laughed at as the caricature or the _beau ideal_
+predominates. A third way regards them as human beings, having hearts
+that can suffer and enjoy, that can be improved or be ruined; as those
+who are linked to us by mysterious reciprocal influences, by the common
+dangers of a present existence, and the uncertainties of a future one;
+as presenting, wherever we meet them, claims on our sympathy and
+assistance.
+
+Those who adopt the last method are interested in human beings, not so
+much by _present_ attractions as by their capabilities as intelligent,
+immortal beings; by a high belief of what every mind may attain in an
+immortal existence; by anxieties for its temptations and dangers, and
+often by the perception of errors and faults which threaten its ruin.
+The first two modes are adopted by the great mass of society; the last
+is the office of those few scattered stars in the sky of life, who look
+down on its dark selfishness to remind us that there is a world of light
+and love.
+
+To this class did _He_ belong, whose rising and setting on earth were
+for "the healing of the nations;" and to this class has belonged many a
+pure and devoted spirit, like him shining to cheer, like him fading away
+into the heavens. To this class many a one _wishes_ to belong, who has
+an eye to distinguish the divinity of virtue, without the resolution to
+attain it; who, while they sweep along with the selfish current of
+society, still regret that society is not different--that they
+themselves are not different. If this train of thought has no very
+particular application to what follows, it was nevertheless suggested by
+it, and of its relevancy others must judge.
+
+Look into this school room. It is a warm, sleepy afternoon in July;
+there is scarcely air enough to stir the leaves of the tall buttonwood
+tree before the door, or to lift the loose leaves of the copy book in
+the window; the sun has been diligently shining into those curtainless
+west windows ever since three o'clock, upon those blotted and mangled
+desks, and those decrepit and tottering benches, and that great arm
+chair, the high place of authority.
+
+You can faintly hear, about the door, the "craw, craw," of some
+neighboring chickens, which have stepped around to consider the dinner
+baskets, and pick up the crumbs of the noon's repast. For a marvel, the
+busy school is still, because, in truth, it is too warm to stir. You
+will find nothing to disturb your meditation on character, for you
+cannot hear the beat of those little hearts, nor the bustle of all those
+busy thoughts.
+
+Now look around. Who of these is the most interesting? Is it that tall,
+slender, hazel-eyed boy, with a glance like a falcon, whose elbows rest
+on his book as he gazes out on the great buttonwood tree, and is
+calculating how he shall fix his squirrel trap when school is out? Or is
+it that curly-headed little rogue, who is shaking with repressed
+laughter at seeing a chicken roll over in a dinner basket? Or is it that
+arch boy with black eyelashes, and deep, mischievous dimple in his
+cheeks, who is slyly fixing a fish hook to the skirts of the master's
+coat, yet looking as abstracted as Archimedes whenever the good man
+turns his head that way? No; these are intelligent, bright, beautiful,
+but it is not these.
+
+Perhaps, then, it is that sleepy little girl, with golden curls, and a
+mouth like a half-blown rosebud. See, the small brass thimble has fallen
+to the floor, her patchwork drops from her lap, her blue eyes close like
+two sleepy violets, her little head is nodding, and she sinks on her
+sister's shoulder: surely it is she. No, it is not.
+
+But look in that corner. Do you see that boy with such a gloomy
+countenance--so vacant, yet so ill natured? He is doing nothing, and he
+very seldom does any thing. He is surly and gloomy in his looks and
+actions. He never showed any more aptitude for saying or doing a pretty
+thing than his straight white hair does for curling. He is regularly
+blamed and punished every day, and the more he is blamed and punished,
+the worse he grows. None of the boys and girls in school will play with
+him; or, if they do, they will be sorry for it. And every day the master
+assures him that "he does not know what to do with him," and that he
+"makes him more trouble than any boy in school," with similar judicious
+information, that has a striking tendency to promote improvement. That
+is the boy to whom I apply the title of "the most interesting one."
+
+He is interesting because he is _not_ pleasing; because he has bad
+habits; because he does wrong; because, under present influences, he is
+always likely to do wrong. He is interesting because he has become what
+he is now by means of the very temperament which often makes the noblest
+virtue. It is feeling, acuteness of feeling, which has given that
+countenance its expression, that character its moroseness.
+
+He has no father, and that long-suffering friend, his mother, is gone
+too. Yet he has relations, and kind ones too; and, in the compassionate
+language of worldly charity, it may be said of him, "He would have
+nothing of which to complain, if he would only behave himself."
+
+His little sister is always bright, always pleasant and cheerful; and
+his friends say, "Why should not he be so too? He is in exactly the same
+circumstances." No, he is not. In one circumstance they differ. He has a
+mind to feel and remember every thing that can pain; she can feel and
+remember but little. If you blame him, he is exasperated, gloomy, and
+cannot forget it. If you blame her, she can say she has done wrong in a
+moment, and all is forgotten. Her mind can no more be wounded than the
+little brook where she loves to play. The bright waters close again, and
+smile and prattle as merry as before.
+
+Which is the most desirable temperament? It would be hard to say. The
+power of feeling is necessary for all that is noble in man, and yet it
+involves the greatest risks. They who catch at happiness on the bright
+surface of things, secure a portion, such as it is, with more certainty;
+those who dive for it in the waters of deeper feeling, if they succeed,
+will bring up pearls and diamonds, but if they sink they are lost
+forever!
+
+But now comes Saturday, and school is just out. Can any one of my
+readers remember the rapturous prospect of a long, bright Saturday
+afternoon? "Where are you going?" "Will you come and see me?" "We are
+going a fishing!" "Let us go a strawberrying!" may be heard rising from
+the happy group. But no one comes near the ill-humored James, and the
+little party going to visit his sister "wish James was out of the way."
+He sees every motion, hears every whisper, knows, suspects, feels it
+all, and turns to go home more sullen and ill tempered than common. The
+world looks dark--nobody loves him--and he is told that it is "all his
+own fault," and that makes the matter still worse.
+
+When the little party arrive, he is suspicious and irritable, and, of
+course, soon excommunicated. Then, as he stands in disconsolate anger,
+looking over the garden fence at the gay group making dandelion chains,
+and playing baby house under the trees, he wonders why he is not like
+other children. He wishes he were different, and yet he does not know
+what to do. He looks around, and every thing is blooming and bright. His
+little bed of flowers is even brighter and sweeter than ever before, and
+a new rose is just opening on his rosebush.
+
+There goes pussy, too, racing and scampering, with little Ellen after
+her, in among the alleys and flowers; and the birds are singing in the
+trees; and the soft winds brush the blossoms of the sweet pea against
+his cheek; and yet, though all nature looks on him so kindly, he is
+wretched.
+
+Let us now change the scene. Why is that crowded assembly so
+attentive--so silent? Who is speaking? It is our old friend, the little
+disconsolate schoolboy. But his eyes are flashing with intellect, his
+face fervent with emotion, his voice breathes like music, and every mind
+is enchained.
+
+Again, it is a splendid sunset, and yonder enthusiast meets it face to
+face, as a friend. He is silent--rapt--happy. He feels the poetry which
+God has written; he is touched by it, as God meant that the feeling
+spirit should be touched.
+
+Again, he is watching by the bed of sickness, and it is blessed to have
+such a watcher! anticipating every want; relieving, not in a cold,
+uninterested way, but with the quick perceptions, the tenderness, the
+gentleness of an angel.
+
+Follow him into the circle of friendship, and why is he so loved and
+trusted? Why can you so easily tell to him what you can say to no one
+else besides? Why is it that all around him feel that he can understand,
+appreciate, be touched by all that touches them?
+
+And when heaven uncloses its doors of light, when all its knowledge, its
+purity, its bliss, rises on the eye and passes into the soul, who then
+will be looked on as the one who might be envied--he who _can_, or he
+who _cannot feel_?
+
+
+
+
+THE SEAMSTRESS.
+
+    "Few, save the poor, feel for the poor;
+      The rich know not how hard
+    It is to be of needful food
+      And needful rest debarred.
+
+    Their paths are paths of plenteousness;
+      They sleep on silk and down;
+    They never think how wearily
+      The weary head lies down.
+
+    They never by the window sit,
+      And see the gay pass by,
+    Yet take their weary work again,
+      And with a mournful eye."
+
+    L. E. L.
+
+
+However fine and elevated, in a sentimental point of view, may have been
+the poetry of this gifted writer, we think we have never seen any thing
+from this source that _ought_ to give a better opinion of her than the
+little ballad from which the above verses are taken.
+
+They show that the accomplished authoress possessed, not merely a
+knowledge of the dreamy ideal wants of human beings, but the more
+pressing and homely ones, which the fastidious and poetical are often
+the last to appreciate. The sufferings of poverty are not confined to
+those of the common, squalid, every day inured to hardships, and ready,
+with open hand, to receive charity, let it come to them as it will.
+There is another class on whom it presses with still heavier power--the
+generous, the decent, the self-respecting, who have struggled with their
+lot in silence, "bearing all things, hoping all things," and willing to
+endure all things, rather than breathe a word of complaint, or to
+acknowledge, even to themselves, that their own efforts will not be
+sufficient for their own necessities.
+
+Pause with me a while at the door of yonder room, whose small window
+overlooks a little court below. It is inhabited by a widow and her
+daughter, dependent entirely on the labors of the needle, and those
+other slight and precarious resources, which are all that remain to
+woman when left to struggle her way through the world alone. It contains
+all their small earthly store, and there is scarce an article of its
+little stock of furniture that has not been thought of, and toiled for,
+and its price calculated over and over again, before every thing could
+be made right for its purchase. Every article is arranged with the
+utmost neatness and care; nor is the most costly furniture of a
+fashionable parlor more sedulously guarded from a scratch or a rub, than
+is that brightly-varnished bureau, and that neat cherry tea table and
+bedstead. The floor, too, boasted once a carpet; but old Time has been
+busy with it, picking a hole here, and making a thin place there; and
+though the old fellow has been followed up by the most indefatigable
+zeal in darning, the marks of his mischievous fingers are too plain to
+be mistaken. It is true, a kindly neighbor has given a bit of faded
+baize, which has been neatly clipped and bound, and spread down over an
+entirely unmanageable hole in front of the fireplace; and other places
+have been repaired with pieces of different colors; and yet, after all,
+it is evident that the poor carpet is not long for this world.
+
+But the best face is put upon every thing. The little cupboard in the
+corner, that contains a few china cups, and one or two antiquated silver
+spoons, relics of better days, is arranged with jealous neatness, and
+the white muslin window curtain, albeit the muslin be old, has been
+carefully whitened and starched, and smoothly ironed, and put up with
+exact precision; and on the bureau, covered by a snowy cloth, are
+arranged a few books and other memorials of former times, and a faded
+miniature, which, though it have little about it to interest a stranger,
+is more precious to the poor widow than every thing besides.
+
+Mrs. Ames is seated in her rocking chair, supported by a pillow, and
+busy cutting out work, while her daughter, a slender, sickly-looking
+girl, is sitting by the window, intent on some fine stitching.
+
+Mrs. Ames, in former days, was the wife of a respectable merchant, and
+the mother of an affectionate family. But evil fortune had followed her
+with a steadiness that seemed like the stern decree of some adverse fate
+rather than the ordinary dealings of a merciful Providence. First came a
+heavy run of losses in business; then long and expensive sickness in the
+family, and the death of children. Then there was the selling of the
+large house and elegant furniture, to retire to a humbler style of
+living; and finally, the sale of all the property, with the view of
+quitting the shores of a native land, and commencing life again in a new
+one. But scarcely had the exiled family found themselves in the port of
+a foreign land, when the father was suddenly smitten down by the hand of
+death, and his lonely grave made in a land of strangers. The widow,
+broken-hearted and discouraged, had still a wearisome journey before her
+ere she could reach any whom she could consider as her friends. With her
+two daughters, entirely unattended, and with her finances impoverished
+by detention and sickness, she performed the tedious journey.
+
+Arrived at the place of her destination, she found herself not only
+without immediate resources, but considerably in debt to one who had
+advanced money for her travelling expenses. With silent endurance she
+met the necessities of her situation. Her daughters, delicately reared,
+and hitherto carefully educated, were placed out to service, and Mrs.
+Ames sought for employment as a nurse. The younger child fell sick, and
+the hard earnings of the mother were all exhausted in the care of her;
+and though she recovered in part, she was declared by her physician to
+be the victim of a disease which would never leave her till it
+terminated her life.
+
+As soon, however, as her daughter was so far restored as not to need her
+immediate care, Mrs. Ames resumed her laborious employment. Scarcely had
+she been able, in this way, to discharge the debts for her journey and
+to furnish the small room we have described, when the hand of disease
+was laid heavily on herself. Too resolute and persevering to give way to
+the first attacks of pain and weakness, she still continued her
+fatiguing employment till her system was entirely prostrated. Thus all
+possibility of pursuing her business was cut off, and nothing remained
+but what could be accomplished by her own and her daughter's dexterity
+at the needle. It is at this time we ask you to look in upon the mother
+and daughter.
+
+Mrs. Ames is sitting up, the first time for a week, and even to-day she
+is scarcely fit to do so; but she remembers that the month is coming
+round, and her rent will soon be due; and in her feebleness she will
+stretch every nerve to meet her engagements with punctilious exactness.
+
+Wearied at length with cutting out, and measuring, and drawing threads,
+she leans back in her chair, and her eye rests on the pale face of her
+daughter, who has been sitting for two hours intent on her stitching.
+
+"Ellen, my child, your head aches; don't work so steadily."
+
+"O, no, it don't ache _much_," said she, too conscious of looking very
+much tired. Poor girl! had she remained in the situation in which she
+was born, she would now have been skipping about, and enjoying life as
+other young girls of fifteen do; but now there is no choice of
+employments for her--no youthful companions--no visiting--no pleasant
+walks in the fresh air. Evening and morning, it is all the same;
+headache or sideache, it is all one. She must hold on the same unvarying
+task--a wearisome thing for a girl of fifteen.
+
+But see! the door opens, and Mrs. Ames's face brightens as her other
+daughter enters. Mary has become a domestic in a neighboring family,
+where her faithfulness and kindness of heart have caused her to be
+regarded more as a daughter and a sister than as a servant. "Here,
+mother, is your rent money," she exclaimed; "so do put up your work and
+rest a while. I can get enough to pay it next time before the month
+comes around again."
+
+"Dear child, I do wish you would ever think to get any thing for
+yourself," said Mrs. Ames. "I cannot consent to use up all your
+earnings, as I have done lately, and all Ellen's too; you must have a
+new dress this spring, and that bonnet of yours is not decent any
+longer."
+
+"O, no, mother! I have made over my blue calico, and you would be
+surprised to see how well it looks; and my best frock, when it is washed
+and darned, will answer some time longer. And then Mrs. Grant has given
+me a ribbon, and when my bonnet is whitened and trimmed it will look
+very well. And so," she added, "I brought you some wine this afternoon;
+you know the doctor says you need wine."
+
+"Dear child, I want to see you take some comfort of your money
+yourself."
+
+"Well, I do take comfort of it, mother. It is more comfort to be able to
+help you than to wear all the finest dresses in the world."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Two months from this dialogue found our little family still more
+straitened and perplexed. Mrs. Ames had been confined all the time with
+sickness, and the greater part of Ellen's time and strength was occupied
+with attending to her.
+
+Very little sewing could the poor girl now do, in the broken intervals
+that remained to her; and the wages of Mary were not only used as fast
+as earned, but she anticipated two months in advance.
+
+Mrs. Ames had been better for a day or two, and had been sitting up,
+exerting all her strength to finish a set of shirts which had been sent
+in to make. "The money for them will just pay our rent," sighed she;
+"and if we can do a little more this week----"
+
+"Dear mother, you are so tired," said Ellen; "do lie down, and not worry
+any more till I come back."
+
+Ellen went out, and passed on till she came to the door of an elegant
+house, whose damask and muslin window curtains indicated a fashionable
+residence.
+
+Mrs. Elmore was sitting in her splendidly-furnished parlor, and around
+her lay various fancy articles which two young girls were busily
+unrolling. "What a lovely pink scarf!" said one, throwing it over her
+shoulders and skipping before a mirror; while the other exclaimed, "Do
+look at these pocket handkerchiefs, mother! what elegant lace!"
+
+"Well, girls," said Mrs. Elmore, "these handkerchiefs are a shameful
+piece of extravagance. I wonder you will insist on having such things."
+
+"La, mamma, every body has such now; Laura Seymour has half a dozen that
+cost more than these, and her father is no richer than ours."
+
+"Well," said Mrs. Elmore, "rich or not rich, it seems to make very
+little odds; we do not seem to have half as much money to spare as we
+did when we lived in the little house in Spring Street. What with new
+furnishing the house, and getting every thing you boys and girls say you
+must have, we are poorer, if any thing, than we were then."
+
+"Ma'am, here is Mrs. Ames's girl come with some sewing," said the
+servant.
+
+"Show her in," said Mrs. Elmore.
+
+Ellen entered timidly, and handed her bundle of work to Mrs. Elmore, who
+forthwith proceeded to a minute scrutiny of the articles; for she prided
+herself on being very particular as to her sewing. But, though the work
+had been executed by feeble hands and aching eyes, even Mrs. Elmore
+could detect no fault in it.
+
+"Well, it is very prettily done," said she. "What does your mother
+charge?"
+
+Ellen handed a neatly-folded bill which she had drawn for her mother. "I
+must say, I think your mother's prices are very high," said Mrs. Elmore,
+examining her nearly empty purse; "every thing is getting so dear that
+one hardly knows how to live." Ellen looked at the fancy articles, and
+glanced around the room with an air of innocent astonishment. "Ah," said
+Mrs. Elmore, "I dare say it seems to you as if persons in our situation
+had no need of economy; but, for my part, I feel the need of it more and
+more every day." As she spoke she handed Ellen the three dollars, which,
+though it was not a quarter the price of one of the handkerchiefs, was
+all that she and her sick mother could claim in the world.
+
+"There," said she; "tell your mother I like her work very much, but I do
+not think I can afford to employ her, if I can find any one to work
+cheaper."
+
+Now, Mrs. Elmore was not a hard-hearted woman, and if Ellen had come as
+a beggar to solicit help for her sick mother, Mrs. Elmore would have
+fitted out a basket of provisions, and sent a bottle of wine, and a
+bundle of old clothes, and all the _et cetera_ of such occasions; but
+the sight of _a bill_ always aroused all the instinctive sharpness of
+her business-like education. She never had the dawning of an idea that
+it was her duty to pay any body any more than she could possibly help;
+nay, she had an indistinct notion that it was her _duty_ as an economist
+to make every body take as little as possible. When she and her
+daughters lived in Spring Street, to which she had alluded, they used to
+spend the greater part of their time at home, and the family sewing was
+commonly done among themselves. But since they had moved into a large
+house, and set up a carriage, and addressed themselves to being genteel,
+the girls found that they had altogether too much to do to attend to
+their own sewing, much less to perform any for their father and
+brothers. And their mother found her hands abundantly full in
+overlooking her large house, in taking care of expensive furniture, and
+in superintending her increased train of servants. The sewing,
+therefore, was put out; and Mrs. Elmore _felt it a duty_ to get it done
+the cheapest way she could. Nevertheless, Mrs. Elmore was too notable a
+lady, and her sons and daughters were altogether too fastidious as to
+the make and quality of their clothing, to admit the idea of its being
+done in any but the most complete and perfect manner.
+
+Mrs. Elmore never accused herself of want of charity for the poor; but
+she had never considered that the best class of the poor are those who
+never ask charity. She did not consider that, by paying liberally those
+who were honestly and independently struggling for themselves, she was
+really doing a greater charity than by giving indiscriminately to a
+dozen applicants.
+
+"Don't you think, mother, she says we charge too high for this work!"
+said Ellen, when she returned. "I am sure she did not know how much work
+we put in those shirts. She says she cannot give us any more work; she
+must look out for somebody that will do it cheaper. I do not see how it
+is that people who live in such houses, and have so many beautiful
+things, can feel that they cannot afford to pay for what costs us so
+much."
+
+"Well, child, they are more apt to feel so than people who live
+plainer."
+
+"Well, I am sure," said Ellen, "we cannot afford to spend so much time
+as we have over these shirts for less money."
+
+"Never mind, my dear," said the mother, soothingly; "here is a bundle of
+work that another lady has sent in, and if we get it done, we shall have
+enough for our rent, and something over to buy bread with."
+
+It is needless to carry our readers over all the process of cutting, and
+fitting, and gathering, and stitching, necessary in making up six fine
+shirts. Suffice it to say that on Saturday evening all but one were
+finished, and Ellen proceeded to carry them home, promising to bring the
+remaining one on Tuesday morning. The lady examined the work, and gave
+Ellen the money; but on Tuesday, when the child came with the remaining
+work, she found her in great ill humor. Upon reexamining the shirts, she
+had discovered that in some important respects they differed from
+directions she meant to have given, and supposed she had given; and,
+accordingly, she vented her displeasure on Ellen.
+
+"Why didn't you make these shirts as I told you?" said she, sharply.
+
+"We did," said Ellen, mildly; "mother measured by the pattern every
+part, and cut them herself."
+
+"Your mother must be a fool, then, to make such a piece of work. I wish
+you would just take them back and alter them over;" and the lady
+proceeded with the directions, of which neither Ellen nor her mother
+till then had had any intimation. Unused to such language, the
+frightened Ellen took up her work and slowly walked homeward.
+
+"O, dear, how my head does ache!" thought she to herself; "and poor
+mother! she said this morning she was afraid another of her sick turns
+was coming on, and we have all this work to pull out and do over."
+
+"See here, mother," said she, with a disconsolate air, as she entered
+the room; "Mrs. Rudd says, take out all the bosoms, and rip off all the
+collars, and fix them quite another way. She says they are not like the
+pattern she sent; but she must have forgotten, for here it is. Look,
+mother; it is exactly as we made them."
+
+"Well, my child, carry back the pattern, and show her that it is so."
+
+"Indeed, mother, she spoke so cross to me, and looked at me so, that I
+do not feel as if I could go back."
+
+"I will go for you, then," said the kind Maria Stephens, who had been
+sitting with Mrs. Ames while Ellen was out. "I will take the pattern and
+shirts, and tell her the exact truth about it. I am not afraid of her."
+Maria Stephens was a tailoress, who rented a room on the same floor with
+Mrs. Ames, a cheerful, resolute, go-forward little body, and ready
+always to give a helping hand to a neighbor in trouble. So she took the
+pattern and shirts, and set out on her mission.
+
+But poor Mrs. Ames, though she professed to take a right view of the
+matter, and was very earnest in showing Ellen why she ought not to
+distress herself about it, still felt a shivering sense of the hardness
+and unkindness of the world coming over her. The bitter tears would
+spring to her eyes, in spite of every effort to suppress them, as she
+sat mournfully gazing on the little faded miniature before mentioned.
+"When _he_ was alive, I never knew what poverty or trouble was," was the
+thought that often passed through her mind. And how many a poor forlorn
+one has thought the same!
+
+Poor Mrs. Ames was confined to her bed for most of that week. The doctor
+gave absolute directions that she should do nothing, and keep entirely
+quiet--a direction very sensible indeed in the chamber of ease and
+competence, but hard to be observed in poverty and want.
+
+What pains the kind and dutiful Ellen took that week to make her mother
+feel easy! How often she replied to her anxious questions, "that she was
+quite well," or "that her head did not ache _much_!" and by various
+other evasive expedients the child tried to persuade herself that she
+was speaking the truth. And during the times her mother slept, in the
+day or evening, she accomplished one or two pieces of plain work, with
+the price of which she expected to surprise her mother.
+
+It was towards evening when Ellen took her finished work to the elegant
+dwelling of Mrs. Page. "I shall get a dollar for this," said she;
+"enough to pay for mother's wine and medicine."
+
+"This work is done very neatly," said Mrs. Page, "and here is some more
+I should like to have finished in the same way."
+
+Ellen looked up wistfully, hoping Mrs. Page was going to pay her for the
+last work. But Mrs. Page was only searching a drawer for a pattern,
+which she put into Ellen's hands, and after explaining how she wanted
+her work done, dismissed her without saying a word about the expected
+dollar.
+
+Poor Ellen tried two or three times, as she was going out, to turn round
+and ask for it; but before she could decide what to say, she found
+herself in the street.
+
+Mrs. Page was an amiable, kind-hearted woman, but one who was so used to
+large sums of money that she did not realize how great an affair a
+single dollar might seem to other persons. For this reason, when Ellen
+had worked incessantly at the new work put into her hands, that she
+might get the money for all together, she again disappointed her in the
+payment.
+
+"I'll send the money round to-morrow," said she, when Ellen at last
+found courage to ask for it. But to-morrow came, and Ellen was
+forgotten; and it was not till after one or two applications more that
+the small sum was paid.
+
+But these sketches are already long enough, and let us hasten to close
+them. Mrs. Ames found liberal friends, who could appreciate and honor
+her integrity of principle and loveliness of character, and by their
+assistance she was raised to see more prosperous days; and she, and the
+delicate Ellen, and warm-hearted Mary were enabled to have a home and
+fireside of their own, and to enjoy something like the return of their
+former prosperity.
+
+We have given these sketches, drawn from real life, because we think
+there is in general too little consideration on the part of those who
+give employment to those in situations like the widow here described.
+The giving of employment is a very important branch of charity, inasmuch
+as it assists that class of the poor who are the most deserving. It
+should be looked on in this light, and the arrangements of a family be
+so made that a suitable compensation can be given, and prompt and
+cheerful payment be made, without the dread of transgressing the rules
+of economy.
+
+It is better to teach our daughters to do without expensive ornaments or
+fashionable elegances; better even to deny ourselves the pleasure of
+large donations or direct subscriptions to public charities, rather than
+to curtail the small stipend of her whose "candle goeth not out by
+night," and who labors with her needle for herself and the helpless dear
+ones dependent on her exertions.
+
+
+
+
+OLD FATHER MORRIS.
+
+A SKETCH FROM NATURE.
+
+
+Of all the marvels that astonished my childhood, there is none I
+remember to this day with so much interest as the old man whose name
+forms my caption. When I knew him, he was an aged clergyman, settled
+over an obscure village in New England. He had enjoyed the advantages of
+a liberal education, had a strong, original power of thought, an
+omnipotent imagination, and much general information; but so early and
+so deeply had the habits and associations of the plough, the farm, and
+country life wrought themselves into his mind, that his after
+acquirements could only mingle with them, forming an unexampled amalgam
+like unto nothing but itself.
+
+He was an ingrain New Englander, and whatever might have been the source
+of his information, it came out in Yankee form, with the strong
+provinciality of Yankee dialect.
+
+It is in vain to attempt to give a full picture of such a genuine
+_unique_; but some slight and imperfect dashes may help the imagination
+to a faint idea of what none can fully conceive but those who have seen
+and heard old Father Morris.
+
+Suppose yourself one of half a dozen children, and you hear the cry,
+"Father Morris is coming!" You run to the window or door, and you see a
+tall, bulky old man, with a pair of saddle bags on one arm, hitching his
+old horse with a fumbling carefulness, and then deliberately stumping
+towards the house. You notice his tranquil, florid, full-moon face,
+enlightened by a pair of great round blue eyes, that roll with dreamy
+inattentiveness on all the objects around; and as he takes off his hat,
+you see the white curling wig that sets off his round head. He comes
+towards you, and as you stand staring, with all the children around, he
+deliberately puts his great hand on your head, and, with deep, rumbling
+voice, inquires,--
+
+"How d'ye do, my darter? is your daddy at home?" "My darter" usually
+makes off as fast as possible, in an unconquerable giggle. Father Morris
+goes into the house, and we watch him at every turn, as, with the most
+liberal simplicity, he makes himself at home, takes off his wig, wipes
+down his great face with a checked pocket handkerchief, helps himself
+hither and thither to whatever he wants, and asks for such things as he
+cannot lay his hands on, with all the comfortable easiness of childhood.
+
+I remember to this day how we used to peep through the crack of the
+door, or hold it half ajar and peer in, to watch his motions; and how
+mightily diverted we were with his deep, slow manner of speaking, his
+heavy, cumbrous walk, but, above all, with the wonderful faculty of
+"_hemming_" which he possessed.
+
+His deep, thundering, protracted "A-hem-em" was like nothing else that
+ever I heard; and when once, as he was in the midst of one of these
+performances, the parlor door suddenly happened to swing open, I heard
+one of my roguish brothers calling, in a suppressed tone, "Charles!
+Charles! Father Morris has _hemmed_ the door open!"--and then followed
+the signs of a long and desperate titter, in which I sincerely
+sympathized.
+
+But the morrow is Sunday. The old man rises in the pulpit. He is not now
+in his own humble little parish, preaching simply to the hoers of corn
+and planters of potatoes, but there sits Governor D., and there is Judge
+R., and Counsellor P., and Judge G. In short, he is before a refined and
+literary audience. But Father Morris rises; he thinks nothing of this;
+he cares nothing; he knows nothing, as he himself would say, but "Jesus
+Christ, and him crucified." He takes a passage of Scripture to explain;
+perhaps it is the walk to Emmaus, and the conversation of Jesus with his
+disciples. Immediately the whole start out before you, living and
+picturesque: the road to Emmaus is a New England turnpike; you can see
+its mile stones, its mullein stalks, its toll gates. Next the disciples
+rise, and you have before you all their anguish, and hesitation, and
+dismay talked out to you in the language of your own fireside. You
+smile; you are amused; yet you are touched, and the illusion grows every
+moment. You see the approaching stranger, and the mysterious
+conversation grows more and more interesting. Emmaus rises in the
+distance, in the likeness of a New England village, with a white meeting
+house and spire. You follow the travellers; you enter the house with
+them; nor do you wake from your trance until, with streaming eyes, the
+preacher tells you that "they saw it was the Lord Jesus--and _what a
+pity_ it was they could not have known it before!"
+
+It was after a sermon on this very chapter of Scripture history that
+Governor Griswold, in passing out of the house, laid hold on the sleeve
+of his first acquaintance: "Pray tell me," said he, "who is this
+minister?"
+
+"Why, it is old Father Morris."
+
+"Well, he is an oddity--and a genius too, I declare!" he continued. "I
+have been wondering all the morning how I could have read the Bible to
+so little purpose as not to see all these particulars he has presented."
+
+I once heard him narrate in this picturesque way the story of Lazarus.
+The great bustling city of Jerusalem first rises to view, and you are
+told, with great simplicity, how the Lord Jesus "used to get tired of
+the noise;" and how he was "tired of preaching, again and again, to
+people who would not mind a word he said;" and how, "when it came
+evening, he used to go out and see his friends in Bethany." Then he told
+about the house of Martha and Mary: "a little white house among the
+trees," he said; "you could just see it from Jerusalem." And there the
+Lord Jesus and his disciples used to go and sit in the evenings, with
+Martha, and Mary, and Lazarus.
+
+Then the narrator went on to tell how Lazarus died, describing, with
+tears and a choking voice, the distress they were in, and how they sent
+a message to the Lord Jesus, and he did not come, and how they wondered
+and wondered; and thus on he went, winding up the interest by the
+graphic _minutiae_ of an eye witness, till he woke you from the dream by
+his triumphant joy at the resurrection scene.
+
+On another occasion, as he was sitting at a tea table, unusually
+supplied with cakes and sweetmeats, he found an opportunity to make a
+practical allusion to the same family story. He said that Mary was quiet
+and humble, sitting at her Savior's feet to hear his words; but Martha
+thought more of what was to be got for tea. Martha could not find time
+to listen to Christ. No; she was "'cumbered with much serving'--around
+the house, frying fritters and making gingerbread."
+
+Among his own simple people, his style of Scripture painting was
+listened to with breathless interest. But it was particularly in those
+rustic circles, called "conference meetings," that his whole warm soul
+unfolded, and the Bible in his hands became a gallery of New England
+paintings.
+
+He particularly loved the evangelists, following the footsteps of Jesus
+Christ, dwelling upon his words, repeating over and over again the
+stories of what he did, with all the fond veneration of an old and
+favored servant.
+
+Sometimes, too, he would give the narration an exceedingly practical
+turn, as one example will illustrate.
+
+He had noticed a falling off in his little circle that met for social
+prayer, and took occasion, the first time he collected a tolerable
+audience, to tell concerning "the conference meeting that the disciples
+attended" after the resurrection.
+
+"But Thomas was not with them." "Thomas not with them!" said the old
+man, in a sorrowful voice. "Why, what could keep Thomas away? Perhaps,"
+said he, glancing at some of his backward auditors, "Thomas had got
+cold-hearted, and was afraid they would ask him to make the first
+prayer; or perhaps," said he, looking at some of the farmers, "Thomas
+was afraid the roads were bad; or perhaps," he added, after a pause,
+"Thomas had got proud, and thought he could not come in his old
+clothes." Thus he went on, significantly summing up the common excuses
+of his people; and then, with great simplicity and emotion, he added,
+"But only think what Thomas lost! for in the middle of the meeting, the
+Lord Jesus came and stood among them! How sorry Thomas must have been!"
+This representation served to fill the vacant seats for some time to
+come.
+
+At another time Father Morris gave the details of the anointing of David
+to be king. He told them how Samuel went to Bethlehem, to Jesse's house,
+and went in with a "How d'ye do, Jesse?" and how, when Jesse asked him
+to take a chair, he said he could not stay a minute; that the Lord had
+sent him to anoint one of his sons for a king; and how, when Jesse
+called in the tallest and handsomest, Samuel said "he would not do;" and
+how all the rest passed the same test; and at last, how Samuel says,
+"Why, have not you any more sons, Jesse?" and Jesse says, "Why, yes,
+there is little David down in the lot;" and how, as soon as ever Samuel
+saw David, "he slashed the oil right on to him;" and how Jesse said "he
+never was so beat in all his life."
+
+Father Morris sometimes used his illustrative talent to very good
+purpose in the way of rebuke. He had on his farm a fine orchard of
+peaches, from which some of the ten and twelve-year-old gentlemen helped
+themselves more liberally than even the old man's kindness thought
+expedient.
+
+Accordingly, he took occasion to introduce into his sermon one Sunday,
+in his little parish, an account of a journey he took; and how he was
+"very warm and very dry;" and how he saw a fine orchard of peaches that
+made his mouth water to look at them. "So," says he, "I came up to the
+fence and looked all around, for I would not have touched one of them
+_without leave_ for all the world. At last I spied a man, and says I,
+'Mister, won't you give me some of your peaches?' So the man came and
+gave me nigh about a hat full. And while I stood there eating, I said,
+'Mister, how do you manage to keep your peaches?' 'Keep them!' said he,
+and he stared at me; 'what do you mean?' 'Yes, sir,' said I; 'don't the
+boys steal them?' 'Boys steal them!' said he. 'No, indeed!' 'Why, sir,'
+said I, 'I have a whole lot full of peaches, and I cannot get half of
+them'"--here the old man's voice grew tremulous--"'because the boys in
+my parish steal them so.' 'Why, sir,' said he, 'don't their parents
+teach them not to steal?' And I grew all over in a cold sweat, and I
+told him 'I was afeard they didn't.' 'Why, how you talk!' says the man;
+'do tell me where you live?' Then," said Father Morris, the tears
+running over, "I was obliged to tell him I lived in the town of G."
+After this Father Morris kept his peaches.
+
+Our old friend was not less original in the logical than in the
+illustrative portions of his discourses. His logic was of that familiar,
+colloquial kind which shakes hands with common sense like an old friend.
+Sometimes, too, his great mind and great heart would be poured out on
+the vast themes of religion, in language which, though homely, produced
+all the effects of the sublime. He once preached a discourse on the
+text, "the High and Holy One that inhabiteth eternity;" and from the
+beginning to the end it was a train of lofty and solemn thought. With
+his usual simple earnestness, and his great, rolling voice, he told
+about "the Great God--the Great Jehovah--and how the people in this
+world were flustering and worrying, and afraid they should not get time
+to do this, and that, and t'other. But," he added, with full-hearted
+satisfaction, "the Lord is never in a hurry; he has it all to do, but he
+has time enough, for he inhabiteth eternity." And the grand idea of
+infinite leisure and almighty resources was carried through the sermon
+with equal strength and simplicity.
+
+Although the old man never seemed to be sensible of any thing tending to
+the ludicrous in his own mode of expressing himself, yet he had
+considerable relish for humor, and some shrewdness of repartee. One
+time, as he was walking through a neighboring parish, famous for its
+profanity, he was stopped by a whole flock of the youthful reprobates of
+the place:--
+
+"Father Morris, Father Morris! the devil's dead!"
+
+"Is he?" said the old man, benignly laying his hand on the head of the
+nearest urchin; "you poor fatherless children!"
+
+But the sayings and doings of this good old man, as reported in the
+legends of the neighborhood, are more than can be gathered or reported.
+He lived far beyond the common age of man, and continued, when age had
+impaired his powers, to tell over and over again the same Bible stories
+that he had told so often before.
+
+I recollect hearing of the joy that almost broke the old man's heart,
+when, after many years' diligent watching and nurture of the good seed
+in his parish, it began to spring into vegetation, sudden and beautiful
+as that which answers the patient watching of the husbandman. Many a
+hard, worldly-hearted man--many a sleepy, inattentive hearer--many a
+listless, idle young person, began to give ear to words that had long
+fallen unheeded. A neighboring minister, who had been sent for to see
+and rejoice in these results, describes the scene, when, on entering the
+little church, he found an anxious, crowded auditory assembled around
+their venerable teacher, waiting for direction and instruction. The old
+man was sitting in his pulpit, almost choking with fulness of emotion as
+he gazed around. "Father," said the youthful minister, "I suppose you
+are ready to say with old Simeon, 'Now, Lord, lettest thou thy servant
+depart in peace, for my eyes have seen thy salvation.'" "_Sartin,
+sartin_," said the old man, while the tears streamed down his cheeks,
+and his whole frame shook with emotion.
+
+It was not many years after that this simple and loving servant of
+Christ was gathered in peace unto Him whom he loved. His name is fast
+passing from remembrance, and in a few years, his memory, like his
+humble grave, will be entirely grown over and forgotten among men,
+though it will be had in everlasting remembrance by Him who "forgetteth
+not his servants," and in whose sight the death of his saints is
+precious.
+
+
+
+
+THE TWO ALTARS,
+
+OR TWO PICTURES IN ONE.
+
+
+I. THE ALTAR OF LIBERTY, OR 1776.
+
+The wellsweep of the old house on the hill was relieved, dark and clear,
+against the reddening sky, as the early winter sun was going down in the
+west. It was a brisk, clear, metallic evening; the long drifts of snow
+blushed crimson red on their tops, and lay in shades of purple and lilac
+in the hollows; and the old wintry wind brushed shrewdly along the
+plain, tingling people's noses, blowing open their cloaks, puffing in
+the back of their necks, and showing other unmistakable indications that
+he was getting up steam for a real roistering night.
+
+"Hurrah! How it blows!" said little Dick Ward, from the top of the mossy
+wood pile.
+
+Now Dick had been sent to said wood pile, in company with his little
+sister Grace, to pick up chips, which, every body knows, was in the
+olden time considered a wholesome and gracious employment, and the
+peculiar duty of the rising generation. But said Dick, being a boy, had
+mounted the wood pile, and erected there a flagstaff, on which he was
+busily tying a little red pocket handkerchief, occasionally exhorting
+Grace "to be sure and pick up fast."
+
+"O, yes, I will," said Grace; "but you see the chips have got ice on
+'em, and make my hands so cold!"
+
+"O, don't stop to suck your thumbs! Who cares for ice? Pick away, I say,
+while I set up the flag of liberty."
+
+So Grace picked away as fast as she could, nothing doubting but that her
+cold thumbs were in some mysterious sense an offering on the shrine of
+liberty; while soon the red handkerchief, duly secured, fluttered and
+snapped in the brisk evening wind.
+
+"Now you must hurrah, Gracie, and throw up your bonnet," said Dick, as
+he descended from the pile.
+
+"But won't it lodge down in some place in the wood pile?" suggested
+Grace, thoughtfully.
+
+"O, never fear; give it to me, and just holler now, Gracie, 'Hurrah for
+liberty;' and we'll throw up your bonnet and my cap; and we'll play, you
+know, that we are a whole army, and I'm General Washington."
+
+So Grace gave up her little red hood, and Dick swung his cap, and up
+they both went into the air; and the children shouted, and the flag
+snapped and fluttered, and altogether they had a merry time of it. But
+then the wind--good for nothing, roguish fellow!--made an ungenerous
+plunge at poor Grace's little hood, and snipped it up in a twinkling,
+and whisked it off, off, off,--fluttering and bobbing up and down, quite
+across a wide, waste, snowy field, and finally lodged it on the top of a
+tall, strutting rail, that was leaning, very independently, quite
+another way from all the other rails of the fence.
+
+"Now see, do see!" said Grace; "there goes my bonnet! What will Aunt
+Hitty say?" and Grace began to cry.
+
+"Don't you cry, Gracie; you offered it up to liberty, you know: it's
+glorious to give up every thing for liberty."
+
+"O, but Aunt Hitty won't think so."
+
+"Well, don't cry, Gracie, you foolish girl! Do you think I can't get it?
+Now, only play that that great rail is a fort, and your bonnet is a
+prisoner in it, and see how quick I'll take the fort and get it!" and
+Dick shouldered a stick and started off.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"What upon _airth_ keeps those children so long? I should think they
+were _making_ chips!" said Aunt Mehetabel; "the fire's just a going out
+under the tea kettle."
+
+By this time Grace had lugged her heavy basket to the door, and was
+stamping the snow off her little feet, which were so numb that she
+needed to stamp, to be quite sure they were yet there. Aunt Mehetabel's
+shrewd face was the first that greeted her as the door opened.
+
+"Gracie--what upon _airth_!--wipe your nose, child; your hands are
+frozen. Where alive is Dick?--and what's kept you out all this
+time?--and where's your bonnet?"
+
+Poor Grace, stunned by this cataract of questions, neither wiped her
+nose nor gave any answer, but sidled up into the warm corner, where
+grandmamma was knitting, and began quietly rubbing and blowing her
+fingers, while the tears silently rolled down her cheeks, as the fire
+made the former ache intolerably.
+
+"Poor little dear!" said grandmamma, taking her hands in hers; "Hitty
+shan't scold you. Grandma knows you've been a good girl--the wind blew
+poor Gracie's bonnet away;" and grandmamma wiped both eyes and nose, and
+gave her, moreover, a stalk of dried fennel out of her pocket; whereat
+Grace took heart once more.
+
+"Mother always makes fools of Roxy's children," said Mehetabel, puffing
+zealously under the tea kettle. "There's a little maple sugar in that
+saucer up there, mother, if you will keep giving it to her," she said,
+still vigorously puffing. "And now, Gracie," she said, when, after a
+while, the fire seemed in tolerable order, "will you answer my question?
+Where is Dick?"
+
+"Gone over in the lot, to get my bonnet."
+
+"How came your bonnet off?" said Aunt Mehetabel. "I tied it on firm
+enough."
+
+"Dick wanted me to take it off for him, to throw up for liberty," said
+Grace.
+
+"Throw up for fiddlestick! Just one of Dick's cut-ups; and you was silly
+enough to mind him!"
+
+"Why, he put up a flagstaff on the wood pile, and a flag to liberty, you
+know, that papa's fighting for," said Grace, more confidently, as she
+saw her quiet, blue-eyed mother, who had silently walked into the room
+during the conversation.
+
+Grace's mother smiled and said, encouragingly, "And what then?"
+
+"Why, he wanted me to throw up my bonnet and he his cap, and shout for
+liberty; and then the wind took it and carried it off, and he said I
+ought not to be sorry if I did lose it--it was an offering to liberty."
+
+"And so I did," said Dick, who was standing as straight as a poplar
+behind the group; "and I heard it in one of father's letters to mother,
+that we ought to offer up every thing on the altar of liberty--and so I
+made an altar of the wood pile."
+
+"Good boy!" said his mother; "always remember every thing your father
+writes. He has offered up every thing on the altar of liberty, true
+enough; and I hope you, son, will live to do the same."
+
+"Only, if I have the hoods and caps to make," said Aunt Hitty, "I hope
+he won't offer them up every week--that's all!"
+
+"O! well, Aunt Hitty, I've got the hood; let me alone for that. It blew
+clear over into the Daddy Ward pasture lot, and there stuck on the top
+of the great rail; and I played that the rail was a fort, and besieged
+it, and took it."
+
+"O, yes! you're always up to taking forts, and any thing else that
+nobody wants done. I'll warrant, now, you left Gracie to pick up every
+blessed one of them chips."
+
+"Picking up chips is girl's work," said Dick; "and taking forts and
+defending the country is men's work."
+
+"And pray, Mister Pomp, how long have you been a man?" said Aunt Hitty.
+
+"If I ain't a man, I soon shall be; my head is 'most up to my mother's
+shoulder, and I can fire off a gun, too. I tried, the other day, when I
+was up to the store. Mother, I wish you'd let me clean and load the old
+gun, so that, if the British should come----"
+
+"Well, if you are so big and grand, just lift me out that table, sir,"
+said Aunt Hitty; "for it's past supper time."
+
+Dick sprang, and had the table out in a trice, with an abundant clatter,
+and put up the leaves with quite an air. His mother, with the silent and
+gliding motion characteristic of her, quietly took out the table cloth
+and spread it, and began to set the cups and saucers in order, and to
+put on the plates and knives, while Aunt Hitty bustled about the tea.
+
+"I'll be glad when the war's over, for one reason," said she. "I'm
+pretty much tired of drinking sage tea, for one, I know."
+
+"Well, Aunt Hitty, how you scolded that pedler last week, that brought
+along that real tea!"
+
+"To be sure I did. S'pose I'd be taking any of his old tea, bought of
+the British?--fling every teacup in his face first."
+
+"Well, mother," said Dick, "I never exactly understood what it was about
+the tea, and why the Boston folks threw it all overboard."
+
+"Because there was an unlawful tax laid upon it, that the government had
+no right to lay. It wasn't much in itself; but it was a part of a whole
+system of oppressive meanness, designed to take away our rights, and
+make us slaves of a foreign power."
+
+"Slaves!" said Dick, straightening himself proudly. "Father a slave!"
+
+"But they would not be slaves! They saw clearly where it would all end,
+and they would not begin to submit to it in ever so little," said the
+mother.
+
+"I wouldn't, if I was they," said Dick.
+
+"Besides," said his mother, drawing him towards her, "it wasn't for
+themselves alone they did it. This is a great country, and it will be
+greater and greater; and it's very important that it should have free
+and equal laws, because it will by and by be so great. This country, if
+it is a free one, will be a light of the world--a city set on a hill,
+that cannot be hid; and all the oppressed and distressed from other
+countries shall come here to enjoy equal rights and freedom. This, dear
+boy, is why your father and uncles have gone to fight, and why they do
+stay and fight, though God knows what they suffer, and----" and the
+large blue eyes of the mother were full of tears; yet a strong, bright
+beam of pride and exultation shone through those tears.
+
+"Well, well, Roxy, you can always talk, every body knows," said Aunt
+Hitty, who had been not the least attentive listener of this little
+patriotic harangue; "but, you see, the tea is getting cold, and yonder I
+see the sleigh is at the door, and John's come; so let's set up our
+chairs for supper."
+
+The chairs were soon set up, when John, the eldest son, a lad of about
+fifteen, entered with a letter. There was one general exclamation, and
+stretching out of hands towards it. John threw it into his mother's lap;
+the tea table was forgotten, and the tea kettle sang unnoticed by the
+fire, as all hands crowded about mother's chair to hear the news. It was
+from Captain Ward, then in the American army, at Valley Forge. Mrs. Ward
+ran it over hastily, and then read it aloud. A few words we may extract.
+
+"There is still," it said, "much suffering. I have given away every pair
+of stockings you sent me, reserving to myself only one; for I will not
+be one whit better off than the poorest soldier that fights for his
+country. Poor fellows! it makes my heart ache sometimes to go round
+among them, and see them with their worn clothes and torn shoes, and
+often bleeding feet, yet cheerful and hopeful, and every one willing to
+do his very best. Often the spirit of discouragement comes over them,
+particularly at night, when, weary, cold, and hungry, they turn into
+their comfortless huts, on the snowy ground. Then sometimes there is a
+thought of home, and warm fires, and some speak of giving up; but next
+morning out come Washington's general orders--little short note, but
+it's wonderful the good it does! and then they all resolve to hold on,
+come what may. There are commissioners going all through the country to
+pick up supplies. If they come to you, I need not tell you what to do. I
+know all that will be in your hearts."
+
+"There, children, see what your father suffers," said the mother, "and
+what it costs these poor soldiers to gain our liberty."
+
+"Ephraim Scranton told me that the commissioners had come as far as the
+Three Mile Tavern, and that he rather 'spected they'd be along here
+to-night," said John, as he was helping round the baked beans to the
+silent company at the tea table.
+
+"To-night?--do tell, now!" said Aunt Hitty. "Then it's time we were
+awake and stirring. Let's see what can be got."
+
+"I'll send my new overcoat, for one," said John. "That old one isn't cut
+up yet, is it, Aunt Hitty?"
+
+"No," said Aunt Hitty; "I was laying out to cut it over next Wednesday,
+when Desire Smith could be here to do the tailoring.
+
+"There's the south room," said Aunt Hitty, musing; "that bed has the two
+old Aunt Ward blankets on it, and the great blue quilt, and two
+comforters. Then mother's and my room, two pair--four comforters--two
+quilts--the best chamber has got----"
+
+"O Aunt Hitty, send all that's in the best chamber! If any company
+comes, we can make it up off from our beds," said John. "I can send a
+blanket or two off from my bed, I know;--can't but just turn over in it,
+so many clothes on, now."
+
+"Aunt Hitty, take a blanket off from our bed," said Grace and Dick at
+once.
+
+"Well, well, we'll see," said Aunt Hitty, bustling up.
+
+Up rose grandmamma, with, great earnestness, now, and going into the
+next room, and opening a large cedar wood chest, returned, bearing in
+her arms two large snow white blankets, which she deposited flat on the
+table, just as Aunt Hitty was whisking off the table cloth.
+
+"Mortal! mother, what are you going to do?" said Aunt Hitty.
+
+"There," she said; "I spun those, every thread of 'em, when my name was
+Mary Evans. Those were my wedding blankets, made of real nice wool, and
+worked with roses in all the corners. I've got _them_ to give!" and
+grandmamma stroked and smoothed the blankets, and patted them down, with
+great pride and tenderness. It was evident she was giving something that
+lay very near her heart; but she never faltered.
+
+"La! mother, there's no need of that," said Aunt Hitty. "Use them on
+your own bed, and send the blankets off from that; they are just as good
+for the soldiers."
+
+"No, I shan't!" said the old lady, waxing warm; "'tisn't a bit too good
+for 'em. I'll send the very best I've got, before they shall suffer.
+Send 'em the _best_!" and the old lady gestured oratorically.
+
+They were interrupted by a rap at the door, and two men entered, and
+announced themselves as commissioned by Congress to search out supplies
+for the army. Now the plot thickens. Aunt Hitty flew in every
+direction,--through entry passage, meal room, milk room, down cellar, up
+chamber,--her cap border on end with patriotic zeal; and followed by
+John, Dick, and Grace, who eagerly bore to the kitchen the supplies that
+she turned out, while Mrs. Ward busied herself in quietly sorting and
+arranging, in the best possible travelling order, the various
+contributions that were precipitately launched on the kitchen floor.
+
+Aunt Hitty soon appeared in the kitchen with an armful of stockings,
+which, kneeling on the floor, she began counting and laying out.
+
+"There," she said, laying down a large bundle on some blankets, "that
+leaves just two pair apiece all round."
+
+"La!" said John, "what's the use of saving two pair for me? I can do
+with one pair, as well as father."
+
+"Sure enough," said his mother; "besides, I can knit you another pair in
+a day."
+
+"And I can do with one pair," said Dick.
+
+"Yours will be too small, young master, I guess," said one of the
+commissioners.
+
+"No," said Dick; "I've got a pretty good foot of my own, and Aunt Hitty
+will always knit my stockings an inch too long, 'cause she says I grow
+so. See here--these will do;" and the boy shook his, triumphantly.
+
+"And mine, too," said Grace, nothing doubting, having been busy all the
+time in pulling off her little stockings.
+
+"Here," she said to the man who was packing the things into a
+wide-mouthed sack; "here's mine," and her large blue eyes looked
+earnestly through her tears.
+
+Aunt Hitty flew at her. "Good land! the child's crazy. Don't think the
+men could wear your stockings--take 'em away!"
+
+Grace looked around with an air of utter desolation, and began to cry.
+"I wanted to give them something," said she. "I'd rather go barefoot on
+the snow all day than not send 'em any thing."
+
+"Give me the stockings, my child," said the old soldier, tenderly.
+"There, I'll take 'em, and show 'em to the soldiers, and tell them what
+the little girl said that sent them. And it will do them as much good as
+if they could wear them. They've got little girls at home, too." Grace
+fell on her mother's bosom completely happy, and Aunt Hitty only
+muttered,--
+
+"Every body does spile that child; and no wonder, neither!"
+
+Soon the old sleigh drove off from the brown house, tightly packed and
+heavily loaded. And Grace and Dick were creeping up to their little
+beds.
+
+"There's been something put on the altar of Liberty to-night, hasn't
+there, Dick?"
+
+"Yes, indeed," said Dick; and, looking up to his mother, he said, "But,
+mother, what did you give?"
+
+"I?" said the mother, musingly.
+
+"Yes, you, mother; what have you given to the country?"
+
+"All that I have, dears," said she, laying her hands gently on their
+heads--"my husband and my children!"
+
+
+II. THE ALTAR OF ----, OR 1850.
+
+The setting sun of chill December lighted up the solitary front window
+of a small tenement on ---- Street, in Boston, which we now have
+occasion to visit. As we push gently aside the open door, we gain sight
+of a small room, clean as busy hands can make it, where a neat, cheerful
+young mulatto woman is busy at an ironing table. A basket full of
+glossy-bosomed shirts, and faultless collars and wristbands, is beside
+her, into which she is placing the last few items with evident pride and
+satisfaction. A bright black-eyed boy, just come in from school, with
+his satchel of books over his shoulder, stands, cap in hand, relating to
+his mother how he has been at the head of his class, and showing his
+school tickets, which his mother, with untiring admiration, deposits in
+the little real china tea pot--which, as being their most reliable
+article of gentility, is made the deposit of all the money and most
+especial valuables of the family.
+
+"Now, Henry," says the mother, "look out and see if father is coming
+along the street;" and she begins filling the little black tea kettle,
+which is soon set singing on the stove.
+
+From the inner room now daughter Mary, a well-grown girl of thirteen,
+brings the baby, just roused from a nap, and very impatient to renew his
+acquaintance with his mamma.
+
+"Bless his bright eyes!--mother will take him," ejaculates the busy
+little woman, whose hands are by this time in a very floury condition,
+in the incipient stages of wetting up biscuit,--"in a minute;" and she
+quickly frees herself from the flour and paste, and, deputing Mary to
+roll out her biscuit, proceeds to the consolation and succor of young
+master.
+
+"Now, Henry," says the mother, "you'll have time, before supper, to take
+that basket of clothes up to Mr. Sheldin's; put in that nice bill, that
+you made out last night. I shall give you a cent for every bill you
+write out for me. What a comfort it is, now, for one's children to be
+gettin' learnin' so!"
+
+Henry shouldered the basket, and passed out the door, just as a
+neatly-dressed colored man walked up, with his pail and whitewash
+brushes.
+
+"O, you've come, father, have you? Mary, are the biscuits in? You may as
+well set the table, now. Well, George, what's the news?"
+
+"Nothing, only a pretty smart day's work. I've brought home five
+dollars, and shall have as much as I can do, these two weeks;" and the
+man, having washed his hands, proceeded to count out his change on the
+ironing table.
+
+"Well, it takes you to bring in the money," said the delighted wife;
+"nobody but you could turn off that much in a day."
+
+"Well, they do say--those that's had me once--that they never want any
+other hand to take hold in their rooms. I s'pose its a kinder practice
+I've got, and kinder natural!"
+
+"Tell ye what," said the little woman, taking down the family strong
+box,--to wit, the china tea pot, aforenamed,--and pouring the contents
+on the table, "we're getting mighty rich, now! We can afford to get
+Henry his new Sunday cap, and Mary her mousseline-de-laine dress--take
+care, baby, you rogue!" she hastily interposed, as young master made a
+dive at a dollar bill, for his share in the proceeds.
+
+"He wants something, too, I suppose," said the father; "let him get his
+hand in while he's young."
+
+The baby gazed, with round, astonished eyes, while mother, with some
+difficulty, rescued the bill from his grasp; but, before any one could
+at all anticipate his purpose, he dashed in among the small change with
+such zeal as to send it flying all over the table.
+
+"Hurrah! Bob's a smasher!" said the father, delighted; "he'll make it
+fly, he thinks;" and, taking the baby on his knee, he laughed merrily,
+as Mary and her mother pursued the rolling coin all over the room.
+
+"He knows now, as well as can be, that he's been doing mischief," said
+the delighted mother, as the baby kicked and crowed uproariously: "he's
+such a forward child, now, to be only six months old! O, you've no idea,
+father, how mischievous he grows;" and therewith the little woman began
+to roll and tumble the little mischief maker about, uttering divers
+frightful threats, which appeared to contribute, in no small degree, to
+the general hilarity.
+
+"Come, come, Mary," said the mother, at last, with a sudden burst of
+recollection; "you mustn't be always on your knees fooling with this
+child! Look in the oven at them biscuits."
+
+"They're done exactly, mother--just the brown!" and, with the word, the
+mother dumped baby on to his father's knee, where he sat contentedly
+munching a very ancient crust of bread, occasionally improving the
+flavor thereof by rubbing it on his father's coat sleeve.
+
+"What have you got in that blue dish, there?" said George, when the
+whole little circle were seated around the table.
+
+"Well, now, what _do_ you suppose?" said the little woman, delighted: "a
+quart of nice oysters--just for a treat, you know. I wouldn't tell you
+till this minute," said she, raising the cover.
+
+"Well," said George, "we both work hard for our money, and we don't owe
+any body a cent; and why shouldn't we have our treats, now and then, as
+well as rich folks?"
+
+And gayly passed the supper hour; the tea kettle sung, the baby crowed,
+and all chatted and laughed abundantly.
+
+"I'll tell you," said George, wiping his mouth; "wife, these times are
+quite another thing from what it used to be down in Georgia. I remember
+then old mas'r used to hire me out by the year; and one time, I
+remember, I came and paid him in two hundred dollars--every cent I'd
+taken. He just looked it over, counted it, and put it in his pocket
+book, and said, 'You are a good boy, George'--and he gave me _half a
+dollar_!"
+
+"I want to know, now!" said his wife.
+
+"Yes, he did, and that was every cent I ever got of it; and, I tell you,
+I was mighty bad off for clothes, them times."
+
+"Well, well, the Lord be praised, they're over, and you are in a free
+country now!" said the wife, as she rose thoughtfully from the table,
+and brought her husband the great Bible. The little circle were ranged
+around the stove for evening prayers.
+
+"Henry, my boy, you must read--you are a better reader than your
+father--thank God, that let you learn early!"
+
+The boy, with a cheerful readiness, read, "The Lord is my Shepherd," and
+the mother gently stilled the noisy baby, to listen to the holy words.
+Then all kneeled, while the father, with simple earnestness, poured out
+his soul to God.
+
+They had but just risen--the words of Christian hope and trust scarce
+died on their lips--when, lo! the door was burst open, and two men
+entered; and one of them, advancing, laid his hand on the father's
+shoulder. "This is the fellow," said he.
+
+"You are arrested in the name of the United States!" said the other.
+
+"Gentlemen, what is this?" said the poor man, trembling.
+
+"Are you not the property of _Mr. B._, of Georgia?" said the officer.
+
+"Gentlemen, I've been a free, hard-working man these ten years."
+
+"Yes; but you are arrested, on suit of Mr. B., as his slave."
+
+Shall we describe the leave taking--the sorrowing wife, the dismayed
+children, the tears, the anguish, that simple, honest, kindly home, in a
+moment so desolated? Ah, ye who defend this because it is law, think,
+for one hour, what if this that happens to your poor brother should
+happen to you!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was a crowded court room, and the man stood there to be tried--for
+life?--no; but for the life of life--for liberty!
+
+Lawyers hurried to and fro, buzzing, consulting, bringing
+authorities,--all anxious, zealous, engaged,--for what? To save a
+fellow-man from bondage? No; anxious and zealous lest he might escape;
+full of zeal to deliver him over to slavery. The poor man's anxious eyes
+follow vainly the busy course of affairs, from which he dimly learns
+that he is to be sacrificed--on the altar of the Union; and that his
+heart-break and anguish, and the tears of his wife, and the desolation
+of his children are, in the eyes of these well-informed men, only the
+bleat of a sacrifice, bound to the horns of the glorious American altar!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Again it is a bright day, and business walks brisk in this market.
+Senator and statesman, the learned and patriotic, are out, this day, to
+give their countenance to an edifying, and impressive, and truly
+American spectacle--the sale of a man! All the preliminaries of the
+scene are there; dusky-browed mothers, looking with sad eyes while
+speculators are turning round their children, looking at their teeth,
+and feeling of their arms; a poor, old, trembling woman, helpless, half
+blind, whose last child is to be sold, holds on to her bright boy with
+trembling hands. Husbands and wives, sisters and friends, all soon to be
+scattered like the chaff of the threshing floor, look sadly on each
+other with poor nature's last tears; and among them walk briskly, glib,
+oily politicians, and thriving men of law, letters, and religion,
+exceedingly sprightly, and in good spirits--for why?--it isn't _they_
+that are going to be sold; it's only somebody else. And so they are very
+comfortable, and look on the whole thing as quite a matter-of-course
+affair, and, as it is to be conducted to-day, a decidedly valuable and
+judicious exhibition.
+
+And now, after so many hearts and souls have been knocked and thumped
+this way and that way by the auctioneer's hammer, comes the
+_instructive_ part of the whole; and the husband and father, whom we saw
+in his simple home, reading and praying with his children, and rejoicing
+in the joy of his poor ignorant heart that he lived in a free country,
+is now set up to be admonished of his mistake.
+
+Now there is great excitement, and pressing to see, and exultation and
+approbation; for it is important and interesting to see a man put down
+that has tried to be a _free man_.
+
+"That's he, is it? Couldn't come it, could he?" says one.
+
+"No; and he will never come it, that's more," says another,
+triumphantly.
+
+"I don't generally take much interest in scenes of this nature," says a
+grave representative; "but I came here to-day for the sake of the
+_principle_!"
+
+"Gentlemen," says the auctioneer, "we've got a specimen here that some
+of your northern abolitionists would give any price for; but they shan't
+have him! no! we've looked out for that. The man that buys him must give
+bonds never to sell him to go north again!"
+
+"Go it!" shout the crowd; "good! good! hurrah!" "An impressive idea!"
+says a senator; "a noble maintaining of principle!" and the man is bid
+off, and the hammer falls with a last crash on his heart, his hopes, his
+manhood, and he lies a bleeding wreck on the altar of Liberty!
+
+Such was the altar in 1776; such is the altar in 1850!
+
+
+
+
+A SCHOLAR'S ADVENTURES IN THE COUNTRY.
+
+
+"If we could only live in the country," said my wife, "how much easier
+it would be to live!"
+
+"And how much cheaper!" said I.
+
+"To have a little place of our own, and raise our own things!" said my
+wife. "Dear me! I am heart sick when I think of the old place at home,
+and father's great garden. What peaches and melons we used to have! what
+green peas and corn! Now one has to buy every cent's worth of these
+things--and how they taste! Such wilted, miserable corn! Such peas!
+Then, if we lived in the country, we should have our own cow, and milk
+and cream in abundance; our own hens and chickens. We could have custard
+and ice cream every day."
+
+"To say nothing of the trees and flowers, and all that," said I.
+
+The result of this little domestic duet was, that my wife and I began to
+ride about the city of ---- to look up some pretty, interesting cottage,
+where our visions of rural bliss might be realized. Country residences,
+near the city, we found to bear rather a high price; so that it was no
+easy matter to find a situation suitable to the length of our purse;
+till, at last, a judicious friend suggested a happy expedient.
+
+"Borrow a few hundred," he said, "and give your note; you can save
+enough, very soon, to make the difference. When you raise every thing
+you eat, you know it will make your salary go a wonderful deal further."
+
+"Certainly it will," said I. "And what can be more beautiful than to buy
+places by the simple process of giving one's note?--'tis so neat, and
+handy, and convenient!"
+
+"Why," pursued my friend, "there is Mr. B., my next door neighbor--'tis
+enough to make one sick of life in the city to spend a week out on his
+farm. Such princely living as one gets! And he assures me that it costs
+him very little--scarce any thing, perceptible, in fact."
+
+"Indeed!" said I; "few people can say that."
+
+"Why," said my friend, "he has a couple of peach trees for every month,
+from June till frost, that furnish as many peaches as he, and his wife,
+and ten children can dispose of. And then he has grapes, apricots, etc..;
+and last year his wife sold fifty dollars' worth from her strawberry
+patch, and had an abundance for the table besides. Out of the milk of
+only one cow they had butter enough to sell three or four pounds a week,
+besides abundance of milk and cream; and madam has the butter for her
+pocket money. This is the way country people manage."
+
+"Glorious!" thought I. And my wife and I could scarce sleep, all night,
+for the brilliancy of our anticipations!
+
+To be sure our delight was somewhat damped the next day by the coldness
+with which my good old uncle, Jeremiah Standfast, who happened along at
+precisely this crisis, listened to our visions.
+
+"You'll find it _pleasant_, children, in the summer time," said the
+hard-fisted old man, twirling his blue-checked pocket handkerchief; "but
+I'm sorry you've gone in debt for the land."
+
+"O, but we shall soon save that--it's so much cheaper living in the
+country!" said both of us together.
+
+"Well, as to that, I don't think it is to city-bred folks."
+
+Here I broke in with a flood of accounts of Mr. B.'s peach trees, and
+Mrs. B.'s strawberries, butter, apricots, etc.., etc..; to which the old
+gentleman listened with such a long, leathery, unmoved quietude of
+visage as quite provoked me, and gave me the worst possible opinion of
+his judgment. I was disappointed too; for, as he was reckoned one of the
+best practical farmers in the county, I had counted on an enthusiastic
+sympathy with all my agricultural designs.
+
+"I tell you what, children," he said, "a body can live in the country,
+as you say, amazin' cheap; but then a body must _know how_"--and my
+uncle spread his pocket handkerchief thoughtfully out upon his knees,
+and shook his head gravely.
+
+I thought him a terribly slow, stupid old body, and wondered how I had
+always entertained so high an opinion of his sense.
+
+"He is evidently getting old," said I to my wife; "his judgment is not
+what it used to be."
+
+At all events, our place was bought, and we moved out, well pleased, the
+first morning in April, not at all remembering the ill savor of that day
+for matters of wisdom. Our place was a pretty cottage, about two miles
+from the city, with grounds that had been tastefully laid out. There was
+no lack of winding paths, arbors, flower borders, and rosebushes, with
+which my wife was especially pleased. There was a little green lot,
+strolling off down to a brook, with a thick grove of trees at the end,
+where our cow was to be pastured.
+
+The first week or two went on happily enough in getting our little new
+pet of a house into trimness and good order; for, as it had been long
+for sale, of course there was any amount of little repairs that had been
+left to amuse the leisure hours of the purchaser. Here a door step had
+given away, and needed replacing; there a shutter hung loose, and wanted
+a hinge; abundance of glass needed setting; and as to painting and
+papering, there was no end to that. Then my wife wanted a door cut here,
+to make our bed room more convenient, and a china closet knocked up
+there, where no china closet before had been. We even ventured on
+throwing out a bay window from our sitting room, because we had luckily
+lighted on a workman who was so cheap that it was an actual saving of
+money to employ him. And to be sure our darling little cottage did lift
+up its head wonderfully for all this garnishing and furbishing. I got up
+early every morning, and nailed up the rosebushes, and my wife got up
+and watered geraniums, and both flattered ourselves and each other on
+our early hours and thrifty habits. But soon, like Adam and Eve in
+Paradise, we found our little domain to ask more hands than ours to get
+it into shape. So says I to my wife, "I will bring out a gardener when I
+come next time, and he shall lay the garden out, and get it into order;
+and after that, I can easily keep it by the work of my leisure hours."
+
+Our gardener was a very sublime sort of man,--an Englishman, and, of
+course, used to laying out noblemen's places,--and we became as
+grasshoppers in our own eyes when he talked of lord this and that's
+estate, and began to question us about our carriage drive and
+conservatory; and we could with difficulty bring the gentleman down to
+any understanding of the humble limits of our expectations: merely to
+dress out the walks, and lay out a kitchen garden, and plant potatoes,
+turnips, beets, and carrots, was quite a descent for him. In fact, so
+strong were his aesthetic preferences, that he persuaded my wife to let
+him dig all the turf off from a green square opposite the bay window,
+and to lay it out into divers little triangles, resembling small pieces
+of pie, together with circles, mounds, and various other geometrical
+ornaments, the planning and planting of which soon engrossed my wife's
+whole soul. The planting of the potatoes, beets, carrots, etc.., was
+intrusted to a raw Irishman; for, as to me, to confess the truth, I
+began to fear that digging did not agree with me. It is true that I was
+exceedingly vigorous at first, and actually planted with my own hands
+two or three long rows of potatoes; after which I got a turn of
+rheumatism in my shoulder, which lasted me a week. Stooping down to
+plant beets and radishes gave me a vertigo, so that I was obliged to
+content myself with a general superintendence of the garden; that is to
+say, I charged my Englishman to see that my Irishman did his duty
+properly, and then got on to my horse and rode to the city. But about
+one part of the matter, I must say, I was not remiss; and that is, in
+the purchase of seed and garden utensils. Not a day passed that I did
+not come home with my pockets stuffed with, choice seeds, roots, etc..;
+and the variety of my garden utensils was unequalled. There was not a
+pruning hook, of any pattern, not a hoe, rake, or spade, great or small,
+that I did not have specimens of; and flower seeds and bulbs were also
+forthcoming in liberal proportions. In fact, I had opened an account at
+a thriving seed store; for, when a man is driving business on a large
+scale, it is not always convenient to hand out the change for every
+little matter, and buying things on account is as neat and agreeable a
+mode of acquisition as paying bills with one's notes.
+
+"You know we must have a cow," said my wife, the morning of our second
+week. Our friend the gardener, who had now worked with us at the rate of
+two dollars a day for two weeks, was at hand in a moment in our
+emergency. We wanted to buy a cow, and he had one to sell--a wonderful
+cow, of a real English breed. He would not sell her for any money,
+except to oblige particular friends; but as we had patronized him, we
+should have her for forty dollars. How much we were obliged to him! The
+forty dollars were speedily forthcoming, and so also was the cow.
+
+"What makes her shake her head in that way?" said my wife,
+apprehensively, as she observed the interesting beast making sundry
+demonstrations with her horns. "I hope she's gentle."
+
+The gardener fluently demonstrated that the animal was a pattern of all
+the softer graces, and that this head-shaking was merely a little
+nervous affection consequent on the embarrassment of a new position. We
+had faith to believe almost any thing at this time, and therefore came
+from the barn yard to the house as much satisfied with our purchase as
+Job with his three thousand camels and five hundred yoke of oxen. Her
+quondam master milked her for us the first evening, out of a delicate
+regard to her feelings as a stranger, and we fancied that we discerned
+forty dollars' worth of excellence in the very quality of the milk.
+
+But alas! the next morning our Irish girl came in with a most rueful
+face. "And is it milking that baste you'd have me be after?" she said;
+"sure, and she won't let me come near her?"
+
+"Nonsense, Biddy!" said I; "you frightened her, perhaps; the cow is
+perfectly gentle;" and with the pail on my arm, I sallied forth. The
+moment madam saw me entering the cow yard, she greeted me with a very
+expressive flourish of her horns.
+
+"This won't do," said I, and I stopped. The lady evidently was serious
+in her intentions of resisting any personal approaches. I cut a cudgel,
+and putting on a bold face, marched towards her, while Biddy followed
+with her milking stool. Apparently, the beast saw the necessity of
+temporizing, for she assumed a demure expression, and Biddy sat down to
+milk. I stood sentry, and if the lady shook her head, I shook my stick;
+and thus the milking operation proceeded with tolerable serenity and
+success.
+
+"There!" said I, with dignity, when the frothing pail was full to the
+brim. "That will do, Biddy," and I dropped my stick. Dump! came madam's
+heel on the side of the pail, and it flew like a rocket into the air,
+while the milky flood showered plentifully over me, and a new broadcloth
+riding-coat that I had assumed for the first time that morning. "Whew!"
+said I, as soon as I could get my breath from this extraordinary shower
+bath; "what's all this?" My wife came running towards the cow yard, as I
+stood with the milk streaming from my hair, filling my eyes, and
+dropping from the tip of my nose; and she and Biddy performed a
+recitative lamentation over me in alternate strophes, like the chorus in
+a Greek tragedy. Such was our first morning's experience; but as we had
+announced our bargain with some considerable flourish of trumpets among
+our neighbors and friends, we concluded to hush the matter up as much as
+possible.
+
+"These very superior cows are apt to be cross," said I; "we must bear
+with it as we do with the eccentricities of genius; besides, when she
+gets accustomed to us, it will be better."
+
+Madam was therefore installed into her pretty pasture lot, and my wife
+contemplated with pleasure the picturesque effect of her appearance,
+reclining on the green slope of the pasture lot, or standing ankle deep
+in the gurgling brook, or reclining under the deep shadows of the trees.
+She was, in fact, a handsome cow, which may account, in part, for some
+of her sins; and this consideration inspired me with some degree of
+indulgence towards her foibles.
+
+But when I found that Biddy could never succeed in getting near her in
+the pasture, and that any kind of success in the milking operations
+required my vigorous personal exertions morning and evening, the matter
+wore a more serious aspect, and I began to feel quite pensive and
+apprehensive. It is very well to talk of the pleasures of the milkmaid
+going out in the balmy freshness of the purple dawn; but imagine a poor
+fellow pulled out of bed on a drizzly, rainy morning, and equipping
+himself for a scamper through a wet pasture lot, rope in hand, at the
+heels of such a termagant as mine! In fact, madam established a regular
+series of exercises, which had all to be gone through before she would
+suffer herself to be captured; as, first, she would station herself
+plump in the middle of a marsh, which lay at the lower part of the lot,
+and look very innocent and absent-minded, as if reflecting on some
+sentimental subject. "Suke! Suke! Suke!" I ejaculate, cautiously
+tottering along the edge of the marsh, and holding out an ear of corn.
+The lady looks gracious, and comes forward, almost within reach of my
+hand. I make a plunge to throw the rope over her horns, and away she
+goes, kicking up mud and water into my face in her flight, while I,
+losing my balance, tumble forward into the marsh. I pick myself up, and,
+full of wrath, behold her placidly chewing her cud on the other side,
+with the meekest air imaginable, as who should say, "I hope you are not
+hurt, sir." I dash through swamp and bog furiously, resolving to carry
+all by a _coup de main_. Then follows a miscellaneous season of dodging,
+scampering, and bopeeping, among the trees of the grove, interspersed
+with sundry occasional races across the bog aforesaid. I always wondered
+how I caught her every day; and when I had tied her head to one post and
+her heels to another, I wiped the sweat from my brow, and thought I was
+paying dear for the eccentricities of genius. A genius she certainly
+was, for besides her surprising agility, she had other talents equally
+extraordinary. There was no fence that she could not take down; nowhere
+that she could not go. She took the pickets off the garden fence at her
+pleasure, using her horns as handily as I could use a claw hammer.
+Whatever she had a mind to, whether it were a bite in the cabbage
+garden, or a run in the corn patch, or a foraging expedition into the
+flower borders, she made herself equally welcome and at home. Such a
+scampering and driving, such cries of "Suke here" and "Suke there," as
+constantly greeted our ears, kept our little establishment in a constant
+commotion. At last, when she one morning made a plunge at the skirts of
+my new broadcloth frock coat, and carried off one flap on her horns, my
+patience gave out, and I determined to sell her.
+
+As, however, I had made a good story of my misfortunes among my friends
+and neighbors, and amused them with sundry whimsical accounts of my
+various adventures in the cow-catching line, I found, when I came to
+speak of selling, that there was a general coolness on the subject, and
+nobody seemed disposed to be the recipient of my responsibilities. In
+short, I was glad, at last, to get fifteen dollars for her, and
+comforted myself with thinking that I had at least gained twenty-five
+dollars worth of experience in the transaction, to say nothing of the
+fine exercise.
+
+I comforted my soul, however, the day after, by purchasing and bringing
+home to my wife a fine swarm of bees.
+
+"Your bee, now," says I, "is a really classical insect, and breathes of
+Virgil and the Augustan age--and then she is a domestic, tranquil,
+placid creature. How beautiful the murmuring of a hive near our
+honeysuckle of a calm, summer evening! Then they are tranquilly and
+peacefully amassing for us their stores of sweetness, while they lull us
+with their murmurs. What a beautiful image of disinterested
+benevolence!"
+
+My wife declared that I was quite a poet, and the beehive was duly
+installed near the flower plots, that the delicate creatures might have
+the full benefit of the honeysuckle and mignonette. My spirits began to
+rise. I bought three different treatises on the rearing of bees, and
+also one or two new patterns of hives, and proposed to rear my bees on
+the most approved model. I charged all the establishment to let me know
+when there was any indication of an emigrating spirit, that I might be
+ready to receive the new swarm into my patent mansion.
+
+Accordingly, one afternoon, when I was deep in an article that I was
+preparing for the North American Review, intelligence was brought me
+that a swarm had risen. I was on the alert at once, and discovered, on
+going out, that the provoking creatures had chosen the top of a tree
+about thirty feet high to settle on. Now my books had carefully
+instructed me just how to approach the swarm and cover them with a new
+hive; but I had never contemplated the possibility of the swarm being,
+like Haman's gallows, forty cubits high. I looked despairingly upon the
+smooth-bark tree, which rose, like a column, full twenty feet, without
+branch or twig. "What is to be done?" said I, appealing to two or three
+neighbors. At last, at the recommendation of one of them, a ladder was
+raised against the tree, and, equipped with a shirt outside of my
+clothes, a green veil over my head, and a pair of leather gloves on my
+hands, I went up with a saw at my girdle to saw off the branch on which
+they had settled, and lower it by a rope to a neighbor, similarly
+equipped, who stood below with the hive.
+
+As a result of this manoeuvre the fastidious little insects were at
+length fairly installed at housekeeping in my new patent hive, and,
+rejoicing in my success, I again sat down to my article.
+
+That evening my wife and I took tea in our honeysuckle arbor, with our
+little ones and a friend or two, to whom I showed my treasures, and
+expatiated at large on the comforts and conveniences of the new patent
+hive.
+
+But alas for the hopes of man! The little ungrateful wretches--what must
+they do but take advantage of my over-sleeping myself, the next morning,
+to clear out for new quarters without so much as leaving me a P. P. C.!
+Such was the fact; at eight o'clock I found the new patent hive as good
+as ever; but the bees I have never seen from that day to this!
+
+"The rascally little conservatives!" said I; "I believe they have never
+had a new idea from the days of Virgil down, and are entirely unprepared
+to appreciate improvements."
+
+Meanwhile the seeds began to germinate in our garden, when we found, to
+our chagrin, that, between John Bull and Paddy, there had occurred
+sundry confusions in the several departments. Radishes had been planted
+broadcast, carrots and beets arranged in hills, and here and there a
+whole paper of seed appeared to have been planted bodily. My good old
+uncle, who, somewhat to my confusion, made me a call at this time, was
+greatly distressed and scandalized by the appearance of our garden. But,
+by a deal of fussing, transplanting, and replanting, it was got into
+some shape and order. My uncle was rather troublesome, as careful old
+people are apt to be--annoying us by perpetual inquiries of what we gave
+for this, and that, and running up provoking calculations on the final
+cost of matters; and we began to wish that his visits might be as short
+as would be convenient.
+
+But when, on taking leave, he promised to send us a fine young cow of
+his own raising, our hearts rather smote us for our impatience.
+
+"'Tain't any of your new breeds, nephew," said the old man, "yet I can
+say that she's a gentle, likely young crittur, and better worth forty
+dollars than many a one that's cried up for Ayrshire or Durham; and you
+shall be quite welcome to her."
+
+We thanked him, as in duty bound, and thought that if he was full of
+old-fashioned notions, he was no less full of kindness and good will.
+
+And now, with a new cow, with our garden beginning to thrive under the
+gentle showers of May, with our flower borders blooming, my wife and I
+began to think ourselves in Paradise. But alas! the same sun and rain
+that warmed our fruit and flowers brought up from the earth, like sulky
+gnomes, a vast array of purple-leaved weeds, that almost in a night
+seemed to cover the whole surface of the garden beds. Our gardeners both
+being gone, the weeding was expected to be done by me--one of the
+anticipated relaxations of my leisure hours.
+
+"Well," said I, in reply to a gentle intimation from my wife, "when my
+article is finished, I'll take a day and weed all up clean."
+
+Thus days slipped by, till at length the article was despatched, and I
+proceeded to my garden. Amazement! Who could have possibly foreseen that
+any thing earthly could grow so fast in a few days! There were no
+bounds, no alleys, no beds, no distinction of beet and carrot, nothing
+but a flourishing congregation of weeds nodding and bobbing in the
+morning breeze, as if to say, "We hope you are well, sir--we've got the
+ground, you see!" I began to explore, and to hoe, and to weed. Ah! did
+any body ever try to clean a neglected carrot or beet bed, or bend his
+back in a hot sun over rows of weedy onions! He is the man to feel for
+my despair! How I weeded, and sweat, and sighed! till, when high noon
+came on, as the result of all my toils, only three beds were cleaned!
+And how disconsolate looked the good seed, thus unexpectedly delivered
+from its sheltering tares, and laid open to a broiling July sun! Every
+juvenile beet and carrot lay flat down, wilted and drooping, as if, like
+me, they had been weeding, instead of being weeded.
+
+"This weeding is quite a serious matter," said I to my wife; "the fact
+is, I must have help about it!"
+
+"Just what I was myself thinking," said my wife. "My flower borders are
+all in confusion, and my petunia mounds so completely overgrown, that
+nobody would dream what they were meant for!"
+
+In short, it was agreed between us that we could not afford the expense
+of a full-grown man to keep our place; yet we must reenforce ourselves
+by the addition of a boy, and a brisk youngster from the vicinity was
+pitched upon as the happy addition. This youth was a fellow of decidedly
+quick parts, and in one forenoon made such a clearing in our garden that
+I was delighted. Bed after bed appeared to view, all cleared and dressed
+out with such celerity that I was quite ashamed of my own slowness,
+until, on examination, I discovered that he had, with great
+impartiality, pulled up both weeds and vegetables.
+
+This hopeful beginning was followed up by a succession of proceedings
+which should be recorded for the instruction of all who seek for help
+from the race of boys. Such a loser of all tools, great and small; such
+an invariable leaver-open of all gates, and letter-down of bars; such a
+personification of all manner of anarchy and ill luck, had never before
+been seen on the estate. His time, while I was gone to the city, was
+agreeably diversified with roosting on the fence, swinging on the gates,
+making poplar whistles for the children, hunting eggs, and eating
+whatever fruit happened to be in season, in which latter accomplishment
+he was certainly quite distinguished. After about three weeks of this
+kind of joint gardening, we concluded to dismiss Master Tom from the
+firm, and employ a man.
+
+"Things must be taken care of," said I, "and I cannot do it. 'Tis out of
+the question." And so the man was secured.
+
+But I am making a long story, and may chance to outrun the sympathies of
+my readers. Time would fail me to tell of the distresses manifold that
+fell upon me--of cows dried up by poor milkers; of hens that wouldn't
+set at all, and hens that, despite all law and reason, would set on one
+egg; of hens that, having hatched families, straightway led them into
+all manner of high grass and weeds, by which means numerous young chicks
+caught premature colds and perished; and how, when I, with manifold
+toil, had driven one of these inconsiderate gadders into a coop, to
+teach her domestic habits, the rats came down upon her and slew every
+chick in one night; how my pigs were always practising gymnastic
+exercises over the fence of the sty, and marauding in the garden. I
+wonder that Fourier never conceived the idea of having his garden land
+ploughed by pigs; for certainly they manifest quite a decided elective
+attraction for turning up the earth.
+
+When autumn came, I went soberly to market, in the neighboring city, and
+bought my potatoes and turnips like any other man; for, between all the
+various systems of gardening pursued, I was obliged to confess that my
+first horticultural effort was a decided failure. But though all my
+rural visions had proved illusive, there were some very substantial
+realities. My bill at the seed store, for seeds, roots, and tools, for
+example, had run up to an amount that was perfectly unaccountable; then
+there were various smaller items, such as horse shoeing, carriage
+mending--for he who lives in the country and does business in the city
+must keep his vehicle and appurtenances. I had always prided myself on
+being an exact man, and settling every account, great and small, with
+the going out of the old year; but this season I found myself sorely put
+to it. In fact, had not I received a timely lift from my good old uncle,
+I should have made a complete break down. The old gentleman's
+troublesome habit of ciphering and calculating, it seems, had led him
+beforehand to foresee that I was not exactly in the money-making line,
+nor likely to possess much surplus revenue to meet the note which I had
+given for my place; and, therefore, he quietly paid it himself, as I
+discovered, when, after much anxiety and some sleepless nights, I went
+to the holder to ask for an extension of credit.
+
+"He was right, after all," said I to my wife; "'to live cheap in the
+country, a body must know how.'"
+
+
+
+
+"WOMAN, BEHOLD THY SON!"
+
+
+The golden rays of a summer afternoon were streaming through the windows
+of a quiet apartment, where every thing was the picture of orderly
+repose. Gently and noiselessly they glide, gilding the glossy old
+chairs, polished by years of care; fluttering with flickering gleam on
+the bookcases, by the fire, and the antique China vases on the mantel,
+and even coqueting with sparkles of fanciful gayety over the face of the
+perpendicular, sombre old clock, which, though at times apparently
+coaxed almost to the verge of a smile, still continued its inevitable
+tick, as for a century before.
+
+On the hearth rug lay outstretched a great, lazy-looking, Maltese cat,
+evidently enjoying the golden beam that fell upon his sober sides, and
+sleepily opening and shutting his great green eyes, as if lost in
+luxurious contemplation.
+
+But the most characteristic figure in the whole picture was that of an
+aged woman, who sat quietly rocking to and fro in a great chair by the
+side of a large round table covered with books. There was a quiet beauty
+in that placid face--that silvery hair brushed neatly under the snowy
+border of the cap. Every line in that furrowed face told some tale of
+sorrow long assuaged, and passions hushed to rest, as on the calm ocean
+shore the golden-furrowed sand shows traces of storms and fluctuations
+long past.
+
+On the round, green-covered table beside her lay the quiet companion of
+her age, the large Bible, whose pages, like the gates of the celestial
+city, were not shut at all by day, a few old standard books, and the
+pleasant, rippling knitting, whose dreamy, irresponsible monotony is the
+best music of age.
+
+A fair, girlish form was seated by the table; the dress bonnet had
+fallen back on her shoulders, the soft cheeks were suffused and earnest,
+the long lashes and the veiled eyes were eloquent of subdued feeling, as
+she read aloud from the letter in her hand. It was from "our Harry," a
+name to both of them comprising all that was dear and valued on earth,
+for he was "the only son of his mother, and she a widow;" yet had he not
+been always an only one; flower after flower on the tree of her life had
+bloomed and died, and gradually, as waters cut off from many channels,
+the streams of love had centred deeper in this last and only one.
+
+And, in truth, Harry Sargeant was all that a mother might desire or be
+proud of. Generous, high-minded, witty, and talented, and with a strong
+and noble physical development, he seemed born to command the love of
+women. The only trouble with him was, in common parlance, that he was
+too clever a fellow; he was too social, too impressible, too versatile,
+too attractive, and too much in demand for his own good. He always drew
+company about him, as honey draws flies, and was indispensable every
+where and to every body; and it needs a steady head and firm nerves for
+such a one to escape ruin.
+
+Harry's course in college, though brilliant in scholarship, had been
+critical and perilous. He was a decided favorite with the faculty and
+students; yet it required a great deal of hard winking and adroit
+management on the part of his instructors to bring him through without
+infringement of college laws and proprieties: not that he ever meant the
+least harm in his life, but that some extra generous impulse, some
+quixotic generosity, was always tumbling him, neck and heels, into
+somebody's scrapes, and making him part and parcel in every piece of
+mischief that was going on.
+
+With all this premised, there is no need to say that Harry was a special
+favorite with ladies; in truth, it was a confessed fact among his
+acquaintances, that, whereas dozens of creditable, respectable,
+well-to-do young men might besiege female hearts with every proper
+formality, waiting at the gates and watching at the posts of the doors
+in vain, yet before him all gates and passages seemed to fly open of
+their own accord. Nevertheless, there was in his native village one
+quiet maiden who held alone in her hand the key that could unlock his
+heart in return, and carried silently in her own the spell that could
+fetter that brilliant, restless spirit; and she it was, of the
+thoughtful brow and downcast eyes, whom we saw in our picture, bending
+over the letter with his mother.
+
+That mother Harry loved to idolatry. She was to his mind an
+impersonation of all that was lovely in womanhood, hallowed and sainted
+by age, by wisdom, by sorrow; and his love for her was a beautiful union
+of protective tenderness, with veneration; and to his Ellen it seemed
+the best and most sacred evidence of the nobleness of his nature, and of
+the worth of the heart which he had pledged to her.
+
+Nevertheless, there was a danger overhanging the heads of the three--a
+little cloud, no bigger than a man's hand, rising in the horizon of
+their hopes, yet destined to burst upon them, dark and dreadful, in a
+future day.
+
+In those scenes of college hilarity where Harry had been so
+indispensable, the bright, poetic wine cup had freely circulated, and
+often amid the flush of conversation, and the genial excitement of the
+hour, he had drank freer and deeper than was best.
+
+He said, it is true, that he cared nothing for it, that it was nothing
+to him, that it never affected him, and all those things that young men
+always say when the cup of Circe is beginning its work with them.
+Friends were annoyed, became anxious, remonstrated; but he laughed at
+their fears, and insisted on knowing himself best. At last, with a
+sudden start and shiver of his moral nature, he was awakened to a
+dreadful perception of his danger, and resolved on decided and
+determinate resistance. During this period he came to Cincinnati to
+establish himself in business, and as at this time the temperance
+reformation was in full tide of success there, he found every thing to
+strengthen his resolution; temperance meetings and speeches were all the
+mode; young men of the first standing were its patrons and supporters;
+wine was quite in the vocative, and seemed really in danger of being
+voted out of society. In such a turn of affairs, to sign a temperance
+pledge and keep it became an easy thing; temptation was scarce presented
+or felt; he was offered the glass in no social circle, met its
+attraction nowhere, and flattered himself that he had escaped so great a
+danger easily and completely.
+
+His usual fortune of social popularity followed him, and his visiting
+circle became full as large and importunate as a young man with any
+thing else to do need desire. He was diligent in his application to
+business, began to be mentioned with approbation by the magnates as a
+rising young man, and had prospects daily nearing of competence and
+home, and all that man desires--visions, alas! never to be realized.
+
+For after a while the tide that had risen so high began imperceptibly to
+decline. Men that had made eloquent speeches on temperance had now other
+things to look to. Fastidious persons thought that matters had, perhaps,
+been carried too far, and ladies declared that it was old and
+threadbare, and getting to be cant and stuff; and the ever-ready wine
+cup was gliding back into many a circle, as if, on sober second
+thoughts, the community was convinced that it was a friend unjustly
+belied.
+
+There is no point in the history of reform, either in communities or
+individuals, so dangerous as that where danger seems entirely past. As
+long as a man thinks his health failing, he watches, he diets, and will
+undergo the most heroic self-denial; but let him once set himself down
+as cured, and how readily does he fall back to one soft indulgent habit
+after another, all tending to ruin every thing that he has before done!
+
+So in communities. Let intemperance rage, and young men go to ruin by
+dozens, and the very evil inspires the remedy; but when the trumpet has
+been sounded, and the battle set in array, and the victory only said and
+sung in speeches, and newspaper paragraphs, and temperance odes, and
+processions, then comes the return wave; people cry, Enough; the
+community, vastly satisfied, lies down to sleep in its laurels; and then
+comes the hour of danger.
+
+But let not the man who has once been swept down the stream of
+intemperate excitement, almost to the verge of ruin, dream of any point
+of security for him. He is like one who has awakened in the rapids of
+Niagara, and with straining oar and wild prayers to Heaven, forced his
+boat upward into smoother water, where the draught of the current seems
+to cease, and the banks smile, and all looks beautiful, and weary from
+rowing, lays by his oar to rest and dream; he knows not that under that
+smooth water still glides a current, that while he dreams, is
+imperceptibly but surely hurrying him back whence there is no return.
+
+Harry was just in this perilous point; he viewed danger as long past,
+his self-confidence was fully restored, and in his security he began to
+neglect those lighter outworks of caution which he must still guard who
+does not mean, at last, to surrender the citadel.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Now, girls and boys," said Mrs. G. to her sons and daughters, who were
+sitting round a centre table covered with notes of invitation, and all
+the preliminary _et cetera_ of a party, "what shall we have on Friday
+night?--tea, coffee, lemonade, wine? of course not."
+
+"And why not wine, mamma?" said the young ladies; "the people are
+beginning to have it; they had wine at Mrs. A.'s and Mrs. B.'s."
+
+"Well, your papa thinks it won't do,--the boys are members of the
+temperance society,--and _I_ don't think, girls, it will _do_ myself."
+
+There are many good sort of people, by the by, who always view moral
+questions in this style of phraseology--not what is right, but what will
+"_do_."
+
+The girls made an appropriate reply to this view of the subject, by
+showing that Mrs. A. and Mrs. B. had done the thing, and nobody seemed
+to make any talk.
+
+The boys, who thus far in the conversation had been thoughtfully rapping
+their boots with their canes, now interposed, and said that they would
+rather not have wine if it wouldn't look shabby.
+
+"But it _will_ look shabby," said Miss Fanny. "Lemons, you know, are
+scarce to be got for any price, and as for lemonade made of sirup, it's
+positively vulgar and detestable; it tastes just like cream of tartar
+and spirits of turpentine."
+
+"For my part," said Emma, "I never did see the harm of wine, even when
+people were making the most fuss about it; to be sure rum and brandy and
+all that are bad, but wine----"
+
+"And so convenient to get," said Fanny; "and no decent young man ever
+gets drunk at parties, so it can't do any harm; besides, one must have
+something, and, as I said, it will look shabby not to have it."
+
+Now, there is no imputation that young men are so much afraid of,
+especially from the lips of ladies, as that of shabbiness; and as it
+happened in this case as most others that the young ladies were the most
+efficient talkers, the question was finally carried on their side.
+
+Mrs. G. was a mild and a motherly woman, just the one fitted to inspire
+young men with confidence and that _home_ feeling which all men desire
+to find somewhere. Her house was a free and easy ground, social for most
+of the young people of her acquaintance, and Harry was a favorite and
+domesticated visitor.
+
+During the height of the temperance reform, fathers and brothers had
+given it their open and decided support, and Mrs. G.--always easily
+enlisted for any good movement--sympathized warmly in their endeavors.
+The great fault was, that too often incident to the gentleness of
+woman--a want of self-reliant principle. Her virtue was too much the
+result of mere sympathy, too little of her own conviction. Hence, when
+those she loved grew cold towards a good cause, they found no sustaining
+power in her, and those who were relying on her judgment and opinions
+insensibly controlled them. Notwithstanding, she was a woman that always
+acquired a great influence over young men, and Harry had loved and
+revered her with something of the same sentiment that he cherished
+towards his own mother.
+
+It was the most brilliant party of the season. Every thing was got up in
+faultless taste, and Mrs. G. was in the very spirit of it. The girls
+were looking beautifully; the rooms were splendid; there was enough and
+not too much of light and warmth, and all were doing their best to
+please and be cheerful. Harry was more brilliant than usual, and in fact
+outdid himself. Wit and mind were the spirit of the hour.
+
+"Just taste this tokay," said one of the sisters to him; "it has just
+been sent us from Europe, and is said to be a genuine article."
+
+"You know I'm not in that line," said Harry, laughing and coloring.
+
+"Why not?" said another young lady, taking a glass.
+
+"O, the temperance pledge, you know! I am one of the pillars of the
+order, a very apostle; it will never do for me."
+
+"Pshaw! those temperance pledges are like the proverb, 'something
+musty,'" said a gay girl.
+
+"Well, but you said you had a headache the beginning of the evening, and
+you really look pale; you certainly need it as a medicine," said Fanny.
+"I'll leave it to mamma;" and she turned to Mrs. G., who stood gayly
+entertaining a group of young people.
+
+"Nothing more likely," replied she, gayly; "I think, Harry, you have
+looked pale lately; a glass of wine might do you good."
+
+Had Mrs. G. known all of Harry's past history and temptations, and had
+she not been in just the inconsiderate state that very good ladies
+sometimes get into at a party, she would sooner have sacrificed her
+right hand than to have thrown this observation into the scales; but she
+did, and they turned the balance for him.
+
+"You shall be my doctor," he said, as, laughing and coloring, he drank
+the glass--and where was the harm? One glass of wine kills nobody; and
+yet if a man falls, and knows that in that glass he sacrifices principle
+and conscience, every drop may be poison to the soul and body.
+
+Harry felt at that very time that a great internal barrier had given
+way; nor was that glass the only one that evening; another, and another,
+and another followed; his spirits rose with the wild and feverish gayety
+incident to his excitable temperament, and what had been begun in the
+society of ladies was completed late at night in the gentlemen's saloon.
+
+Nobody ever knew, or thought, or recognized that that one party had
+forever undone this young man; and yet so it was. From that night his
+struggle of moral resistance was fatally impaired; not that he yielded
+at once and without desperate efforts and struggles, but gradually each
+struggle grew weaker, each reform shorter, each resolution more
+inefficient; yet at the close of the evening all those friends, mother,
+brother, and sister, flattered themselves that every thing had gone on
+so well that the next week Mrs. H. thought that it would do to give wine
+at the party because Mrs. G. had done it last week, and no harm had come
+of it.
+
+In about a year after, the G.'s began to notice and lament the habits of
+their young friend, and all unconsciously to wonder how such a fine
+young man should be so led astray.
+
+Harry was of a decided and desperate nature; his affections and his
+moral sense waged a fierce war with the terrible tyrant--the madness
+that had possessed him; and when at last all hope died out, he
+determined to avoid the anguish and shame of a drunkard's life by a
+suicide's death. Then came to the trembling, heart-stricken mother and
+beloved one a wild, incoherent letter of farewell, and he disappeared
+from among the living.
+
+In the same quiet parlor, where the sunshine still streams through
+flickering leaves, it now rested on the polished sides and glittering
+plate of a coffin; there at last lay the weary at rest, the soft,
+shining gray hair was still gleaming as before, but deeper furrows on
+the wan cheek, and a weary, heavy languor over the pale, peaceful face,
+told that those gray hairs had been brought down in sorrow to the grave.
+Sadder still was the story on the cloudless cheek and lips of the young
+creature bending in quiet despair over her. Poor Ellen! her life's
+thread, woven with these two beloved ones, was broken.
+
+And may all this happen?--nay, does it not happen?--just such things
+happen to young men among us every day. And do they not lead in a
+thousand ways to sorrows just like these? And is there not a
+responsibility on all who ought to be the guardians of the safety and
+purity of the other sex, to avoid setting before them the temptation to
+which so often and so fatally manhood has yielded? What is a paltry
+consideration of fashion, compared to the safety of sons, brothers, and
+husbands? The greatest fault of womanhood is slavery to custom; and yet
+who but woman makes custom? Are not all the usages and fashions of
+polite society more her work than that of man? And let every mother and
+sister think of the mothers and sisters of those who come within the
+range of their influence, and say to themselves, when in thoughtlessness
+they discuss questions affecting their interests, "Behold thy
+brother!"--"Behold thy son!"
+
+
+
+
+THE CORAL RING.
+
+
+"There is no time of life in which young girls are so thoroughly selfish
+as from fifteen to twenty," said Edward Ashton, deliberately, as he laid
+down a book he had been reading, and leaned over the centre table.
+
+"You insulting fellow!" replied a tall, brilliant-looking creature, who
+was lounging on an ottoman hard by, over one of Dickens's last works.
+
+"Truth, coz, for all that," said the gentleman, with the air of one who
+means to provoke a discussion.
+
+"Now, Edward, this is just one of your wholesale declarations, for
+nothing only to get me into a dispute with you, you know," replied the
+lady. "On your conscience, now, (if you have one,) is it not so?"
+
+"My conscience feels quite easy, cousin, in subscribing to that
+sentiment as my confession of faith," replied the gentleman, with
+provoking _sang froid_.
+
+"Pshaw! it's one of your fusty old bachelor notions. See what comes,
+now, of your living to your time of life without a wife--disrespect for
+the sex, and all that. Really, cousin, your symptoms are getting
+alarming."
+
+"Nay, now, Cousin Florence," said Edward, "you are a girl of moderately
+good sense, with all your nonsense. Now don't you (I know you _do_)
+think just so too?"
+
+"Think just so too!--do you hear the creature?" replied Florence. "No,
+sir; you can speak for yourself in this matter, but I beg leave to enter
+my protest when you speak for me too."
+
+"Well, now, where is there, coz, among all our circle, a young girl that
+has any sort of purpose or object in life, to speak of, except to make
+herself as interesting and agreeable as possible? to be admired, and to
+pass her time in as amusing a way as she can? Where will you find one
+between fifteen and twenty that has any serious regard for the
+improvement and best welfare of those with whom she is connected at all,
+or that modifies her conduct, in the least, with reference to it? Now,
+cousin, in very serious earnest, you have about as much real character,
+as much earnestness and depth of feeling, and as much good sense, when
+one can get at it, as any young lady of them all; and yet, on your
+conscience, can you say that you live with any sort of reference to any
+body's good, or to any thing but your own amusement and gratification?"
+
+"What a shocking adjuration!" replied the lady; "prefaced, too, by a
+three-story compliment. Well, being so adjured, I must think to the best
+of my ability. And now, seriously and soberly, I don't see as I am
+selfish. I do all that I have any occasion to do for any body. You know
+that we have servants to do every thing that is necessary about the
+house, so that there is no occasion for my making any display of
+housewifery excellence. And I wait on mamma if she has a headache, and
+hand papa his slippers and newspaper, and find Uncle John's spectacles
+for him twenty times a day, (no small matter, that,) and then----"
+
+"But, after all, what is the object and purpose of your life?"
+
+"Why, I haven't any. I don't see how I can have any--that is, as I am
+made. Now, you know, I've none of the fussing, baby-tending,
+herb-tea-making recommendations of Aunt Sally, and divers others of the
+class commonly called _useful_. Indeed, to tell the truth, I think
+useful persons are commonly rather fussy and stupid. They are just like
+the boneset, and hoarhound, and catnip--very necessary to be raised in a
+garden, but not in the least ornamental."
+
+"And you charming young ladies, who philosophize in kid slippers and
+French dresses, are the tulips and roses--very charming, and delightful,
+and sweet, but fit for nothing on earth but parlor ornaments."
+
+"Well, parlor ornaments are good in their way," said the young lady,
+coloring, and looking a little vexed.
+
+"So you give up the point, then," said the gentleman, "that you girls
+are good for--just to amuse yourselves, amuse others, look pretty, and
+be agreeable."
+
+"Well, and if we behave well to our parents, and are amiable in the
+family--I don't know--and yet," said Florence, sighing, "I have often
+had a sort of vague idea of something higher that we might become; yet,
+really, what more than this is expected of us? what else can we do?"
+
+"I used to read in old-fashioned novels about ladies visiting the sick
+and the poor," replied Edward. "You remember Coelebs in Search of a
+Wife?"
+
+"Yes, truly; that is to say, I remember the story part of it, and the
+love scenes; but as for all those everlasting conversations of Dr.
+Barlow, Mr. Stanley, and nobody knows who else, I skipped those, of
+course. But really, this visiting and tending the poor, and all that,
+seems very well in a story, where the lady goes into a picturesque
+cottage, half overgrown with honeysuckle, and finds an emaciated, but
+still beautiful woman propped up by pillows. But come to the downright
+matter of fact of poking about in all these vile, dirty alleys, and
+entering little dark rooms, amid troops of grinning children, and
+smelling codfish and onions, and nobody knows what--dear me, my
+benevolence always evaporates before I get through. I'd rather pay any
+body five dollars a day to do it for me than do it myself. The fact is,
+that I have neither fancy nor nerves for this kind of thing."
+
+"Well, granting, then, that you can do nothing for your fellow-creatures
+unless you are to do it in the most genteel, comfortable, and
+picturesque manner possible, is there not a great field for a woman like
+you, Florence, in your influence over your associates? With your talents
+for conversation, your tact, and self-possession, and ladylike gift of
+saying any thing you choose, are you not responsible, in some wise, for
+the influence you exert over those by whom you are surrounded?"
+
+"I never thought of that," replied Florence.
+
+"Now, you remember the remarks that Mr. Fortesque made the other evening
+on the religious services at church?"
+
+"Yes, I do; and I thought then he was too bad."
+
+"And I do not suppose there was one of you ladies in the room that did
+not think so too; but yet the matter was all passed over with smiles,
+and with not a single insinuation that he had said any thing unpleasing
+or disagreeable."
+
+"Well, what could we do? One does not want to be rude, you know."
+
+"Do! Could you not, Florence, you who have always taken the lead in
+society, and who have been noted for always being able to say and do
+what you please--could you not have shown him that those remarks were
+unpleasing to you, as decidedly as you certainly would have done if they
+had related to the character of your father or brother? To my mind, a
+woman of true moral feeling should consider herself as much insulted
+when her religion is treated with contempt as if the contempt were shown
+to herself. Do you not _know_ the power which is given to you women to
+awe and restrain us in your presence, and to guard the sacredness of
+things which you treat as holy? Believe me, Florence, that Fortesque,
+infidel as he is, would reverence a woman with whom he dared not trifle
+on sacred subjects."
+
+Florence rose from her seat with a heightened color, her dark eyes
+brightening through tears.
+
+"I am sure what you say is just, cousin, and yet I have never thought of
+it before. I will--I am determined to begin, after this, to live with
+some better purpose than I have done."
+
+"And let me tell you, Florence, in starting a new course, as in learning
+to walk, taking the first step is every thing. Now, I have a first step
+to propose to you."
+
+"Well, cousin----"
+
+"Well, you know, I suppose, that among your train of adorers you number
+Colonel Elliot?"
+
+Florence smiled.
+
+"And perhaps you do not know, what is certainly true, that, among the
+most discerning and cool part of his friends, Elliot is considered as a
+lost man."
+
+"Good Heavens! Edward, what do you mean?"
+
+"Simply this: that with all his brilliant talents, his amiable and
+generous feelings, and his success in society, Elliot has not
+self-control enough to prevent his becoming confirmed in intemperate
+habits."
+
+"I never dreamed of this," replied Florence. "I knew that he was
+spirited and free, fond of society, and excitable; but never suspected
+any thing beyond."
+
+"Elliot has tact enough never to appear in ladies' society when he is
+not in a fit state for it," replied Edward; "but yet it is so."
+
+"But is he really so bad?"
+
+"He stands just on the verge, Florence; just where a word fitly spoken
+might turn him. He is a noble creature, full of all sorts of fine
+impulses and feelings; the only son of a mother who dotes on him, the
+idolized brother of sisters who love him as you love your brother,
+Florence; and he stands where a word, a look--so they be of the right
+kind--might save him."
+
+"And why, then, do you not speak to him?" said Florence.
+
+"Because I am not the best person, Florence. There is another who can do
+it better; one whom he admires, who stands in a position which would
+forbid his feeling angry; a person, cousin, whom I have heard in gayer
+moments say that she knew how to say any thing she pleased without
+offending any body."
+
+"O Edward!" said Florence, coloring; "do not bring up my foolish
+speeches against me, and do not speak as if I ought to interfere in this
+matter, for indeed I cannot do it. I never could in the world, I am
+certain I could not."
+
+"And so," said Edward, "you, whom I have heard say so many things which
+no one else could say, or dared to say--you, who have gone on with your
+laughing assurance in your own powers of pleasing, shrink from trying
+that power when a noble and generous heart might be saved by it. You
+have been willing to venture a great deal for the sake of amusing
+yourself and winning admiration; but you dare not say a word for any
+high or noble purpose. Do you not see how you confirm what I said of the
+selfishness of you women?"
+
+"But you must remember, Edward, this is a matter of great delicacy."
+
+"That word _delicacy_ is a charming cover-all in all these cases,
+Florence. Now, here is a fine, noble-spirited young man, away from his
+mother and sisters, away from any family friend who might care for him,
+tempted, betrayed, almost to ruin, and a few words from you, said as a
+woman knows how to say them, might be his salvation. But you will coldly
+look on and see him go to destruction, because you have too much
+_delicacy_ to make the effort--like the man that would not help his
+neighbor out of the water because he had never had the honor of an
+_introduction_."
+
+"But, Edward, consider how peculiarly fastidious Elliot is--how jealous
+of any attempt to restrain and guide him."
+
+"And just for that reason it is that _men_ of his acquaintance cannot do
+any thing with him. But what are you women made with so much tact and
+power of charming for, if it is not to do these very things that we
+cannot do? It is a delicate matter--true; and has not Heaven given to
+you a fine touch and a fine eye for just such delicate matters? Have you
+not seen, a thousand times, that what might be resented as an
+impertinent interference on the part of a man, comes to us as a
+flattering expression of interest from the lips of a woman?"
+
+"Well, but, cousin, what would you have me do? How would you have me do
+it?" said Florence, earnestly.
+
+"You know that Fashion, which makes so many wrong turns, and so many
+absurd ones, has at last made one good one, and it is now a fashionable
+thing to sign the temperance pledge. Elliot himself would be glad to do
+it, but he foolishly committed himself against it in the outset, and now
+feels bound to stand to his opinion. He has, too, been rather rudely
+assailed by some of the apostles of the new state of things, who did not
+understand the peculiar points of his character; in short, I am afraid
+that he will feel bound to go to destruction for the sake of supporting
+his own opinion. Now, if I should undertake with him, he might shoot me;
+but I hardly think there is any thing of the sort to be apprehended in
+your case. Just try your enchantments; you have bewitched wise men into
+doing foolish things before now; try, now, if you can't bewitch a
+foolish man into doing a wise thing."
+
+Florence smiled archly, but instantly grew more thoughtful.
+
+"Well, cousin," she said, "I will try. Though you are liberal in your
+ascriptions of power, yet I can put the matter to the test of
+experiment."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Florence Elmore was, at the time we speak of, in her twentieth year.
+Born of one of the wealthiest families in ----, highly educated and
+accomplished, idolized by her parents and brothers, she had entered the
+world as one born to command. With much native nobleness and magnanimity
+of character, with warm and impulsive feelings, and a capability of
+every thing high or great, she had hitherto lived solely for her own
+amusement, and looked on the whole brilliant circle by which she was
+surrounded, with all its various actors, as something got up for her
+special diversion. The idea of influencing any one, for better or worse,
+by any thing she ever said or did, had never occurred to her. The crowd
+of admirers of the other sex, who, as a matter of course, were always
+about her, she regarded as so many sources of diversion; but the idea of
+feeling any sympathy with them as human beings, or of making use of her
+power over them for their improvement, was one that had never entered
+her head.
+
+Edward Ashton was an old bachelor cousin of Florence's, who, having
+earned the title of oddity, in general society, availed himself of it to
+exercise a turn for telling the truth to the various young ladies of his
+acquaintance, especially to his fair cousin Florence. We remark, by the
+by, that these privileged truth tellers are quite a necessary of life to
+young ladies in the full tide of society, and we really think it would
+be worth while for every dozen of them to unite to keep a person of this
+kind on a salary, for the benefit of the whole. However, that is nothing
+to our present purpose; we must return to our fair heroine, whom we
+left, at the close of the last conversation, standing in deep revery, by
+the window.
+
+"It's more than half true," she said to herself--"more than half. Here
+am I, twenty years old, and never have thought of any thing, never done
+any thing, except to amuse and gratify myself; no purpose, no object;
+nothing high, nothing dignified, nothing worth living for! Only a parlor
+ornament--heigh ho! Well, I really do believe I could do something with
+this Elliot; and yet how dare I try?"
+
+Now, my good readers, if you are anticipating a love story, we must
+hasten to put in our disclaimer; you are quite mistaken in the case. Our
+fair, brilliant heroine was, at this time of speaking, as heart-whole as
+the diamond on her bosom, which reflected the light in too many
+sparkling rays ever to absorb it. She had, to be sure, half in earnest,
+half in jest, maintained a bantering, platonic sort of friendship with
+George Elliot. She had danced, ridden, sung, and sketched with him; but
+so had she with twenty other young men; and as to coming to any thing
+tender with such a quick, brilliant, restless creature, Elliot would as
+soon have undertaken to sentimentalize over a glass of soda water. No;
+there was decidedly no love in the case.
+
+"What a curious ring that is!" said Elliot to her, a day or two after,
+as they were reading together.
+
+"It is a knight's ring," said she, playfully, as she drew it off and
+pointed to a coral cross set in the gold, "a ring of the red-cross
+knights. Come, now, I've a great mind to bind you to my service with
+it."
+
+"Do, lady fair," said Elliot, stretching out his hand for the ring.
+
+"Know, then," said she, "if you take this pledge, that you must obey
+whatever commands I lay upon you in its name."
+
+"I swear!" said Elliot, in the mock heroic, and placed the ring on his
+finger.
+
+An evening or two after, Elliot attended Florence to a party at Mrs.
+B.'s. Every thing was gay and brilliant, and there was no lack either of
+wit or wine. Elliot was standing in a little alcove, spread with
+refreshments, with a glass of wine in his hand. "I forbid it; the cup is
+poisoned!" said a voice in his ear. He turned quickly, and Florence was
+at his side. Every one was busy, with laughing and talking, around, and
+nobody saw the sudden start and flush that these words produced, as
+Elliot looked earnestly in the lady's face. She smiled, and pointed
+playfully to the ring; but after all, there was in her face an
+expression of agitation and interest which she could not repress, and
+Elliot felt, however playful the manner, that she was _in earnest_; and
+as she glided away in the crowd, he stood with his arms folded, and his
+eyes fixed on the spot where she disappeared.
+
+"Is it possible that I am suspected--that there are things said of me as
+if I were in danger?" were the first thoughts that flashed through his
+mind. How strange that a man may appear doomed, given up, and lost, to
+the eye of every looker on, before he begins to suspect himself! This
+was the first time that any defined apprehension of loss of character
+had occurred to Elliot, and he was startled as if from a dream.
+
+"What the deuse is the matter with you, Elliot? You look as solemn as a
+hearse!" said a young man near by.
+
+"Has Miss Elmore cut you?" said another.
+
+"Come, man, have a glass," said a third.
+
+"Let him alone--he's bewitched," said a fourth. "I saw the spell laid on
+him. None of us can say but our turn may come next."
+
+An hour later, that evening, Florence was talking with her usual spirit
+to a group who were collected around her, when, suddenly looking up, she
+saw Elliot, standing in an abstracted manner, at one of the windows that
+looked out into the balcony.
+
+"He is offended, I dare say," she thought; "but what do I care? For once
+in my life I have tried to do a right thing--a good thing. I have risked
+giving offence for less than this, many a time." Still, Florence could
+not but feel tremulous, when, a few moments after, Elliot approached her
+and offered his arm for a promenade. They walked up and down the room,
+she talking volubly, and he answering yes and no, till at length, as if
+by accident, he drew her into the balcony which overhung the garden. The
+moon was shining brightly, and every thing without, in its placid
+quietness, contrasted strangely with the busy, hurrying scene within.
+
+"Miss Elmore," said Elliot, abruptly, "may I ask you, sincerely, had you
+any design in a remark you made to me in the early part of the evening?"
+
+Florence paused, and though habitually the most practised and
+self-possessed of women, the color actually receded from her cheek, as
+she answered,--
+
+"Yes, Mr. Elliot; I must confess that I had."
+
+"And is it possible, then, that you have heard any thing?"
+
+"I have heard, Mr. Elliot, that which makes me tremble for you, and for
+those whose life, I know, is bound up in you; and, tell me, were it well
+or friendly in me to know that such things were said, that such danger
+existed, and not to warn you of it?"
+
+Elliot stood for a few moments in silence.
+
+"Have I offended? Have I taken too great a liberty?" said Florence,
+gently.
+
+Hitherto Elliot had only seen in Florence the self-possessed, assured,
+light-hearted woman of fashion; but there was a reality and depth of
+feeling in the few words she had spoken to him, in this interview, that
+opened to him entirely a new view in her character.
+
+"No, Miss Elmore," replied he, earnestly, after some pause; "I may be
+_pained_, offended I cannot be. To tell the truth, I have been
+thoughtless, excited, dazzled; my spirits, naturally buoyant, have
+carried me, often, too far; and lately I have painfully suspected my own
+powers of resistance. I have really felt that I needed help, but have
+been too proud to confess, even to myself, that I needed it. You, Miss
+Elmore, have done what, perhaps, no one else could have done. I am
+overwhelmed with gratitude, and I shall bless you for it to the latest
+day of my life. I am ready to pledge myself to any thing you may ask on
+this subject."
+
+"Then," said Florence, "do not shrink from doing what is safe, and
+necessary, and right for you to do, because you have once said you would
+not do it. You understand me."
+
+"Precisely," replied Elliot: "and you shall be obeyed."
+
+It was not more than a week before the news was circulated that even
+George Elliot had signed the pledge of temperance. There was much
+wondering at this sudden turn among those who had known his utter
+repugnance to any measure of the kind, and the extent to which he had
+yielded to temptation; but few knew how fine and delicate had been the
+touch to which his pride had yielded.
+
+
+
+
+ART AND NATURE.
+
+
+"Now, girls," said Mrs. Ellis Grey to her daughters, "here is a letter
+from George Somers, and he is to be down here next week; so I give you
+fair warning."
+
+"Warning?" said Fanny Grey, looking up from her embroidery; "what do you
+mean by that, mamma?"
+
+"Now that's just you, Fanny," said the elder sister, laughing. "You dear
+little simplicity, you can never understand any thing unless it is
+stated as definitely as the multiplication table."
+
+"But we need no warning in the case of Cousin George, I'm sure," said
+Fanny.
+
+"Cousin George, to be sure! Do you hear the little innocent?" said
+Isabella, the second sister. "I suppose, Fanny, you never heard that he
+had been visiting all the courts of Europe, seeing all the fine women,
+stone, picture, and real, that are to be found. Such an _amateur_ and
+_connoisseur_!"
+
+"Besides having received a fortune of a million or so," said Emma. "I
+dare say now, Fanny, you thought he was coming home to make dandelion
+chains, and play with button balls, as he used to do when he was a
+little boy."
+
+"Fanny will never take the world as it is," said Mrs. Grey. "I do
+believe she will be a child as long as she lives." Mrs. Grey said this
+as if she were sighing over some radical defect in the mind of her
+daughter, and the delicate cheek of Fanny showed a tint somewhat deeper
+as she spoke, and she went on with her embroidery in silence.
+
+Mrs. Grey had been left, by the death of her husband, sole guardian of
+the three girls whose names have appeared on the page. She was an
+active, busy, ambitious woman, one of the sort for whom nothing is ever
+finished enough, or perfect enough, without a few touches, and dashes,
+and emendations; and, as such people always make a mighty affair of
+education, Mrs. Grey had made it a life's enterprise to order, adjust,
+and settle the character of her daughters; and when we use the word
+_character_, as Mrs. Grey understood it, we mean it to include both
+face, figure, dress, accomplishments, as well as those more unessential
+items, mind and heart.
+
+Mrs. Grey had determined that her daughters should be something
+altogether out of the common way; and accordingly she had conducted the
+training of the two eldest with such zeal and effect, that every trace
+of an original character was thoroughly educated out of them. All their
+opinions, feelings, words, and actions, instead of gushing naturally
+from their hearts, were, according to the most approved authority,
+diligently compared and revised. Emma, the eldest, was an imposing,
+showy girl, of some considerable talent, and she had been assiduously
+trained to make a sensation as a woman of ability and intellect. Her
+mind had been filled with information on all sorts of subjects, much
+faster than she had power to digest or employ it; and the standard which
+her ambitious mother had set for her being rather above the range of her
+abilities, there was a constant sensation of effort in her keeping up to
+it. In hearing her talk you were constantly reminded, "I am a woman of
+intellect--I am entirely above the ordinary level of woman;" and on all
+subjects she was so anxiously and laboriously, well and
+circumstantially, informed, that it was enough to make one's head ache
+to hear her talk.
+
+Isabella, the second daughter, was, _par excellence_, a beauty--a tall,
+sparkling, Cleopatra-looking girl, whose rich color, dazzling eyes, and
+superb figure might have bid defiance to art to furnish an extra charm;
+nevertheless, each grace had been as indefatigably drilled and
+manoeuvred as the members of an artillery company. Eyes, lips,
+eyelashes, all had their lesson; and every motion of her sculptured
+limbs, every intonation of her silvery voice, had been studied,
+considered, and corrected, till even her fastidious mother could discern
+nothing that was wanting. Then were added all the graces of _belles
+lettres_--all the approved rules of being delighted with music,
+painting, and poetry--and last of all came the tour of the continent;
+travelling being generally considered a sort of pumice stone, for
+rubbing down the varnish, and giving the very last touch to character.
+
+During the time that all this was going on, Miss Fanny, whom we now
+declare our heroine, had been growing up in the quietude of her mother's
+country seat, and growing, as girls are apt to, much faster than her
+mother imagined. She was a fair, slender girl, with a purity and
+simplicity of appearance, which, if it be not in itself beauty, had all
+the best effect of beauty, in interesting and engaging the heart.
+
+She looked not so much beautiful as lovable. Her character was in
+precise correspondence with her appearance; its first and chief element
+was feeling; and to this add fancy, fervor, taste, enthusiasm almost up
+to the point of genius, and just common sense enough to keep them all in
+order, and you will have a very good idea of the mind of Fanny Grey.
+
+Delightfully passed the days with Fanny during the absence of her
+mother, while, without thought of rule or compass, she sang her own
+songs, painted flowers, and sketched landscapes from nature, visited
+sociably all over the village, where she was a great favorite, ran about
+through the fields, over fences, or in the woods with her little cottage
+bonnet, and, above all, built her own little castles in the air without
+any body to help pull them down, which we think about the happiest
+circumstance in her situation.
+
+But affairs wore a very different aspect when Mrs. Grey with her
+daughters returned from Europe, as full of foreign tastes and notions as
+people of an artificial character generally do return.
+
+Poor Fanny was deluged with a torrent of new ideas; she heard of styles
+of appearance and styles of beauty, styles of manner and styles of
+conversation, this, that, and the other air, a general effect and a
+particular effect, and of four hundred and fifty ways of producing an
+impression--in short, it seemed to her that people ought to be of
+wonderful consequence to have so many things to think and to say about
+the how and why of every word and action.
+
+Mrs. Grey, who had no manner of doubt of her own ability to make over a
+character, undertook the point with Fanny as systematically as one would
+undertake to make over an old dress. Poor Fanny, who had an
+unconquerable aversion to trying on dresses or settling points in
+millinery, went through with most exemplary meekness an entire
+transformation as to all externals; but when Mrs. Grey set herself at
+work upon her mind, and tastes, and opinions, the matter became somewhat
+more serious; for the buoyant feeling and fanciful elements of her
+character were as incapable of being arranged according to rule as the
+sparkling water drops are of being strung into necklaces and earrings,
+or the gay clouds of being made into artificial flowers. Some warm
+natural desire or taste of her own was forever interfering with her
+mother's _regime_; some obstinate little "Fannyism" would always put up
+its head in defiance of received custom; and, as her mother and sisters
+pathetically remarked, do what you would with her, she would always come
+out herself after all.
+
+After trying laboriously to conform to the pattern which was daily set
+before her, she came at last to the conclusion that some natural
+inferiority must forever prevent her aspiring to accomplish any thing in
+that way.
+
+"If I can't be what my mother wishes, I'll at least be myself," said she
+one day to her sisters, "for if I try to alter I shall neither be myself
+nor any body else;" and on the whole her mother and sisters came to the
+same conclusion. And in truth they found it a very convenient thing to
+have one in the family who was not studying effect or aspiring to be any
+thing in particular.
+
+It was very agreeable to Mrs. Grey to have a daughter to sit with her
+when she had the sick headache, while the other girls were entertaining
+company in the drawing room below. It was very convenient to her sisters
+to have some one whose dress took so little time that she had always a
+head and a pair of hands at their disposal, in case of any toilet
+emergency. Then she was always loving and affectionate, entirely willing
+to be outtalked and outshone on every occasion; and that was another
+advantage.
+
+As to Isabella and Emma, the sensation that they made in society was
+enough to have gratified a dozen ordinary belles. All that they said,
+and did, and wore, was instant and unquestionable precedent; and young
+gentlemen, all starch and perfume, twirled their laced pocket
+handkerchiefs, and declared on their honor that they knew not which was
+the most overcoming, the genius and wit of Miss Emma, or the bright eyes
+of Miss Isabella; though it was an agreed point that between them both,
+not a heart in the gay world remained in its owner's possession--a thing
+which might have a serious sound to one who did not know the character
+of these articles, often the most trifling item in the inventory of
+worldly possessions. And all this while, all that was said of our
+heroine was something in this way: "I believe there is another
+sister--is there not?"
+
+"Yes, there is a quiet little blue-eyed lady, who never has a word to
+say for herself--quite amiable I'm told."
+
+Now, it was not a fact that Miss Fanny never had a word to say for
+herself. If people had seen her on a visit at any one of the houses
+along the little green street of her native village, they might have
+learned that her tongue could go fast enough.
+
+But in lighted drawing rooms, and among buzzing voices, and surrounded
+by people who were always saying things because such things were proper
+to be said, Fanny was always dizzy, and puzzled, and unready; and for
+fear that she would say something that she should not, she concluded to
+say nothing at all; nevertheless, she made good use of her eyes, and
+found a very quiet amusement in looking on to see how other people
+conducted matters.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Well, Mr. George Somers is actually arrived at Mrs. Grey's country seat,
+and there he sits with Miss Isabella in the deep recess of that window,
+where the white roses are peeping in so modestly.
+
+"To be sure," thought Fanny to herself, as she quietly surveyed him
+looming up through the shade of a pair of magnificent whiskers, and
+heard him passing the shuttlecock of compliment back and forth with the
+most assured and practised air in the world,--"to be sure, I was a child
+in imagining that I should see Cousin George Somers. I'm sure this
+magnificent young gentleman, full of all utterance and knowledge, is not
+the cousin that I used to feel so easy with; no, indeed;" and Fanny gave
+a half sigh, and then went out into the garden to water her geraniums.
+
+For some days Mr. Somers seemed to feel put upon his reputation to
+sustain the character of gallant, _savant, connoisseur_, etc.., which
+every one who makes the tour of the continent is expected to bring home
+as a matter of course; for there is seldom a young gentleman who knows
+he has qualifications in this line, who can resist the temptation of
+showing what he can do. Accordingly he discussed tragedies, and reviews,
+and ancient and modern customs with Miss Emma; and with Miss Isabella
+retouched her drawings and exhibited his own; sported the most choice
+and _recherche_ style of compliment at every turn, and, in short,
+flattered himself, perhaps justly, that he was playing the irresistible
+in a manner quite equal to that of his fair cousins.
+
+Now, all this while Miss Fanny was mistaken in one point, for Mr. George
+Somers, though an exceedingly fine gentleman, had, after all, quite a
+substratum of reality about him, of real heart, real feeling, and real
+opinion of his own; and the consequence was, that when tired of the
+effort of _conversing_ he really longed to find somebody to _talk_ to;
+and in this mood he one evening strolled into the library, leaving the
+gay party in the drawing room to themselves. Miss Fanny was there, quite
+intent upon a book of selections from the old English poets.
+
+"Really, Miss Fanny," said Mr. Somers, "you are very sparing of the
+favor of your company to us this evening."
+
+"O, I presume my company is not much missed," said Fanny, with a smile.
+
+"You must have a poor opinion of our taste, then," said Mr. Somers.
+
+"Come, come, Mr. Somers," replied Fanny, "you forget the person you are
+talking to; it is not at all necessary for you to compliment me; nobody
+ever does--so you may feel relieved of that trouble."
+
+"Nobody ever does, Miss Fanny; pray, how is that?"
+
+"Because I'm not the sort of person to say such things to."
+
+"And pray, what sort of person ought one to be, in order to have such
+things said?" replied Mr. Somers.
+
+"Why, like Sister Isabella, or like Emma. You understand I am a sort of
+little nobody; if any one wastes fine words on me, I never know what to
+make of them."
+
+"And pray, what must one say to you?" said Mr. Somers, quite amused.
+
+"Why, what they really think and really feel; and I am always puzzled by
+any thing else."
+
+Accordingly, about a half an hour afterwards, you might have seen the
+much admired Mr. Somers once more transformed into the Cousin George,
+and he and Fanny engaged in a very interesting _tete-a-tete_ about old
+times and things.
+
+Now, you may skip across a fortnight from this evening, and then look in
+at the same old library, just as the setting sun is looking in at its
+western window, and you will see Fanny sitting back a little in the
+shadow, with one straggling ray of light illuminating her pure childish
+face, and she is looking up at Mr. George Somers, as if in some sudden
+perplexity; and, dear me, if we are not mistaken, our young gentleman is
+blushing.
+
+"Why, Cousin George," says the lady, "what _do_ you mean?"
+
+"I thought I spoke plainly enough, Fanny," replied Cousin George, in a
+tone that _might_ have made the matter plain enough, to be sure.
+
+Fanny laughed outright, and the gentleman looked terribly serious.
+
+"Indeed, now, don't be angry," said she, as he turned away with a vexed
+and mortified air; "indeed, now, I can't help laughing, it seems to me
+so odd; what _will_ they all think of you?"
+
+"It's of no consequence to me what they think," said Mr. Somers. "I
+think, Fanny, if you had the heart I gave you credit for, you might have
+seen my feelings before now."
+
+"Now, do sit down, my _dear_ cousin," said Fanny, earnestly, drawing him
+into a chair, "and tell me, how could I, poor little Miss Fanny Nobody,
+how _could_ I have thought any such thing with such sisters as I have? I
+did think that you _liked_ me, that you knew more of my real feelings
+than mamma and sisters; but that you should--that you ever should--why,
+I am astonished that you did not fall in love with Isabella."
+
+"That would have met your feelings, then?" said George, eagerly, and
+looking as if he would have looked through her, eyes, soul, and all.
+
+"No, no, indeed," she said, turning away her head; "but," added she,
+quickly, "you'll lose all your credit for good taste. Now, tell me,
+seriously, what do you like me for?"
+
+"Well, then, Fanny, I can give you the best reason. I like you for being
+a real, sincere, natural girl--for being simple in your tastes, and
+simple in your appearance, and simple in your manners, and for having
+heart enough left, as I hope, to love plain George Somers, with all his
+faults, and not Mr. Somers's reputation, or Mr. Somers's establishment."
+
+"Well, this is all very reasonable to me, of course," said Fanny, "but
+it will be so much Greek to poor mamma."
+
+"I dare say your mother could never understand how seeing the very acme
+of cultivation in all countries should have really made my eyes ache,
+and long for something as simple as green grass or pure water, to rest
+them on. I came down here to find it among my cousins, and I found in
+your sisters only just such women as I have seen and admired all over
+Europe, till I was tired of admiring. Your mother has achieved what she
+aimed at, perfectly; I know of no circle that could produce higher
+specimens; but it is all art, triumphant art, after all, and I have so
+strong a current of natural feeling running through my heart that I
+could never be happy except with a fresh, simple, impulsive character."
+
+"Like me, you are going to say," said Fanny, laughing. "Well, _I'll_
+admit that you are right. It would be a pity that you should not have
+one vote, at least."
+
+
+
+
+CHILDREN.
+
+"A little child shall lead them."
+
+
+One cold market morning I looked into a milliner's shop, and there I saw
+a hale, hearty, well-browned young fellow from the country, with his
+long cart whip, and lion-shag coat, holding up some little matter, and
+turning it about on his great fist. And what do you suppose it was? _A
+baby's bonnet!_ A little, soft, blue satin hood, with a swan's down
+border, white as the new-fallen snow, with a frill of rich blonde around
+the edge.
+
+By his side stood a very pretty woman, holding, with no small pride, the
+baby--for evidently it was _the_ baby. Any one could read that fact in
+every glance, as they looked at each other, and then at the large,
+unconscious eyes, and fat, dimpled cheeks of the little one.
+
+It was evident that neither of them had ever seen a baby like that
+before.
+
+"But really, Mary," said the young man, "isn't three dollars very high?"
+
+Mary very prudently said nothing, but taking the little bonnet, tied it
+on the little head, and held up the baby. The man looked, and without
+another word down went the three dollars--all the avails of last week's
+butter; and as they walked out of the shop, it is hard to say which
+looked the most delighted with the bargain.
+
+"Ah," thought I, "a little child shall lead them."
+
+Another day, as I was passing a carriage factory along one of our
+principal back streets, I saw a young mechanic at work on a wheel. The
+rough body of a carriage stood beside him, and there, wrapped up snugly,
+all hooded and cloaked, sat a little dark-eyed girl, about a year old,
+playing with a great, shaggy dog. As I stopped, the man looked up from
+his work, and turned admiringly towards his little companion, as much as
+to say, "See what I have got here!"
+
+"Yes," thought I; "and if the little lady ever gets a glance from
+admiring swains as sincere as that, she will be lucky."
+
+Ah, these children, little witches, pretty even in all their faults and
+absurdities. See, for example, yonder little fellow in a naughty fit. He
+has shaken his long curls over his deep-blue eyes; the fair brow is bent
+in a frown, the rose leaf lip is pursed up in infinite defiance, and the
+white shoulder thrust angrily forward. Can any but a child look so
+pretty, even in its naughtiness?
+
+Then comes the instant change; flashing smiles and tears, as the good
+comes back all in a rush, and you are overwhelmed with protestations,
+promises, and kisses! They are irresistible, too, these little ones.
+They pull away the scholar's pen, tumble about his paper, make somersets
+over his books; and what can he do? They tear up newspapers, litter the
+carpets, break, pull, and upset, and then jabber unheard-of English in
+self-defence; and what can you do for yourself?
+
+"If I had a child," says the precise man, "you should see."
+
+He _does_ have a child, and his child tears up his papers, tumbles over
+his things, and pulls his nose, like all other children; and what has
+the precise man to say for himself? Nothing; he is like every body else;
+"a little child shall lead him."
+
+The hardened heart of the worldly man is unlocked by the guileless tones
+and simple caresses of his son; but he repays it in time, by imparting
+to his boy all the crooked tricks and callous maxims which have undone
+himself.
+
+Go to the jail, to the penitentiary, and find there the wretch most
+sullen, brutal, and hardened. Then look at your infant son. Such as he
+is to you, such to some mother was this man. That hard hand was soft and
+delicate; that rough voice was tender and lisping; fond eyes followed
+him as he played, and he was rocked and cradled as something holy. There
+was a time when his heart, soft and unworn, might have opened to
+questionings of God and Jesus, and been sealed with the seal of Heaven.
+But harsh hands seized it; fierce goblin lineaments were impressed upon
+it; and all is over with him forever!
+
+So of the tender, weeping child is made the callous, heartless man; of
+the all-believing child, the sneering sceptic; of the beautiful and
+modest, the shameless and abandoned; and this is what _the world_ does
+for the little one.
+
+There was a time when the _divine One_ stood on earth, and little
+children sought to draw near to him. But harsh human beings stood
+between him and them, forbidding their approach. Ah, has it not always
+been so? Do not even we, with our hard and unsubdued feelings, our
+worldly and unspiritual habits and maxims, stand like a dark screen
+between our little child and its Savior, and keep even from the choice
+bud of our hearts the sweet radiance which might unfold it for Paradise?
+"Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not," is still
+the voice of the Son of God; but the cold world still closes around and
+forbids. When, of old, disciples would question their Lord of the higher
+mysteries of his kingdom, he took a little child and set him in the
+midst, as a sign of him who should be greatest in heaven. That gentle
+teacher remains still to us. By every hearth and fireside Jesus still
+_sets the little child in the midst of us_.
+
+Wouldst thou know, O parent, what is that _faith_ which unlocks heaven?
+Go not to wrangling polemics, or creeds and forms of theology, but draw
+to thy bosom thy little one, and read in that clear, trusting eye the
+lesson of eternal life. Be only to thy God as thy child is to thee, and
+all is done. Blessed shalt thou be, indeed, "_when a little child shall
+lead thee_."
+
+
+
+
+HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS WITH MAMMON.
+
+
+It was four o'clock in the afternoon of a dull winter day that Mr. H.
+sat in his counting room. The sun had nearly gone down, and, in fact, it
+was already twilight beneath the shadows of the tall, dusky stores, and
+the close, crooked streets of that quarter of Boston. Hardly light
+enough struggled through the dusky panes of the counting house for him
+to read the entries in a much-thumbed memorandum book, which he held in
+his hand.
+
+A small, thin boy, with a pale face and anxious expression, significant
+of delicacy of constitution, and a too early acquaintance with want and
+sorrow, was standing by him, earnestly watching his motions.
+
+"Ah, yes, my boy," said Mr. H., as he at last shut up the memorandum
+book. "Yes, I've got the place now; I'm apt to be forgetful about these
+things; come, now, let's go. How is it? Haven't you brought the basket?"
+
+"No, sir," said the boy, timidly. "The grocer said he'd let mother have
+a quarter for it, and she thought she'd sell it."
+
+"That's bad," said Mr. H., as he went on, tying his throat with a long
+comforter of some yards in extent; and as he continued this operation he
+abstractedly repeated, "That's bad, that's bad," till the poor little
+boy looked quite dismayed, and began to think that somehow his mother
+had been dreadfully out of the way.
+
+"She didn't want to send for help so long as she had any thing she could
+sell," said the little boy in a deprecating tone.
+
+"O, yes, quite right," said Mr. H., taking from a pigeon hole in the
+desk a large pocket book, and beginning to turn it over; and, as before,
+abstractedly repeating, "Quite right, quite right?" till the little boy
+became reassured, and began to think, although he didn't know why, that
+his mother had done something quite meritorious.
+
+"Well," said Mr. H., after he had taken several bills from the pocket
+book and transferred them to a wallet which he put into his pocket, "now
+we're ready, my boy." But first he stopped to lock up his desk, and then
+he said, abstractedly to himself, "I wonder if I hadn't better take a
+few tracts."
+
+Now, it is to be confessed that this Mr. H., whom we have introduced to
+our reader, was, in his way, quite an oddity. He had a number of
+singular little _penchants_ and peculiarities quite his own, such as a
+passion for poking about among dark alleys, at all sorts of seasonable
+and unseasonable hours; fishing out troops of dirty, neglected children,
+and fussing about generally in the community till he could get them into
+schools or otherwise provided for. He always had in his pocket book a
+note of some dozen poor widows who wanted tea, sugar, candles, or other
+things such as poor widows always will be wanting. And then he had a
+most extraordinary talent for finding out all the sick strangers that
+lay in out-of-the-way upper rooms in hotels, who, every body knows, have
+no business to get sick in such places, unless they have money enough to
+pay their expenses, which they never do.
+
+Besides this, all Mr. H.'s kinsmen and cousins, to the third, fourth,
+and fortieth remove, were always writing him letters, which, among other
+pleasing items, generally contained the intelligence that a few hundred
+dollars were just then exceedingly necessary to save them from utter
+ruin, and they knew of nobody else to whom to look for it.
+
+And then Mr. H. was up to his throat in subscriptions to every
+charitable society that ever was made or imagined; had a hand in
+building all the churches within a hundred miles; occasionally gave four
+or five thousand dollars to a college; offered to be one of six to raise
+ten thousand dollars for some benevolent purpose, and when four of the
+six backed out, quietly paid the balance himself, and said no more about
+it. Another of his innocent fancies was to keep always about him any
+quantity of tracts and good books, little and big, for children and
+grown-up people, which he generally diffused in a kind of gentle shower
+about him wherever he moved.
+
+So great was his monomania for benevolence that it could not at all
+confine itself to the streets of Boston, the circle of his relatives, or
+even the United States of America. Mr. H. was fully posted up in the
+affairs of India, Burmah, China, and all those odd, out-of-the-way
+places, which no sensible man ever thinks of with any interest, unless
+he can make some money there; and money, it is to be confessed, Mr. H.
+didn't make there, though he spent an abundance. For getting up printing
+presses in Ceylon for Chinese type, for boxes of clothing and what not
+to be sent to the Sandwich Islands, for school books for the Greeks, and
+all other nonsense of that sort, Mr. H. was without a parallel. No
+wonder his rich brother merchants sometimes thought him something of a
+bore, since, his heart being full of all these matters, he was rather
+apt to talk about them, and sometimes to endeavor to draw them into
+fellowship, to an extent that was not to be thought of.
+
+So it came to pass often, that though Mr. H. was a thriving business
+man, with some ten thousand a year, he often wore a pretty threadbare
+coat, the seams whereof would be trimmed with lines of white; and he
+would sometimes need several pretty plain hints on the subject of a new
+hat before he would think he could afford one. Now, it is to be
+confessed the world is not always grateful to those who thus devote
+themselves to its interests; and Mr. H. had as much occasion to know
+this as any other man. People got so used to his giving, that his bounty
+became as common and as necessary as that of a higher Benefactor, "who
+maketh his sun to rise upon the evil and the good, and sendeth rain upon
+the just and the unjust;" and so it came to pass that people took them,
+as they do the sunshine and the rain, quite as matters of course, not
+thinking much about them when they came, but particularly apt to scold
+when they did not come.
+
+But Mr. H. never cared for that. He did not give for gratitude; he did
+not give for thanks, nor to have his name published in the papers as one
+of six who had given fifty thousand to do so and so; but he gave because
+it was _in_ him to give, and we all know that it is an old rule in
+medicine, as well as morals, that what is _in_ a man must be brought
+out. Then, again, he had heard it reported that there had been One of
+distinguished authority who had expressed the opinion that it was "_more
+blessed to give than to receive_," and he very much believed
+it--believed it because the One who said it must have known, since for
+man's sake _he_ once gave away ALL.
+
+And so, when some thriftless, distant relation, whose debts he had paid
+a dozen times over, gave him an overhauling on the subject of
+liberality, and seemed inclined to take him by the throat for further
+charity, he calmed himself down by a chapter or two from the New
+Testament and half a dozen hymns, and then sent him a good, brotherly
+letter of admonition and counsel, with a bank note to enforce it; and
+when some querulous old woman, who had had a tenement of him rent free
+for three or four years, sent him word that if he didn't send and mend
+the water pipes she would move right out, he sent and mended them.
+People said that he was foolish, and that it didn't do any good to do
+for ungrateful people; but Mr. H. knew that it did _him_ good. He loved
+to do it, and he thought also on some words that ran to this effect: "Do
+good and lend, _hoping for nothing again_." He literally hoped for
+nothing again in the way of reward, either in this world or in heaven,
+beyond the present pleasure of the deed; for he had abundant occasion to
+see how favors are forgotten in this world; and as for another, he had
+in his own soul a standard of benevolence so high, so pure, so ethereal,
+that but One of mortal birth ever reached it. He felt that, do what he
+might, he fell ever so far below the life of that _spotless One_--that
+his crown in heaven must come to him at last, not as a reward, but as a
+free, eternal gift.
+
+But all this while our friend and his little companion have been
+pattering along the wet streets, in the rain and sleet of a bitter cold
+evening, till they stopped before a grocery. Here a large cross-handled
+basket was first bought, and then filled with sundry packages of tea,
+sugar, candles, soap, starch, and various other matters; a barrel of
+flour was ordered to be sent after him on a dray. Mr. H. next stopped at
+a dry goods store and bought a pair of blankets, with which he loaded
+down the boy, who was happy enough to be so loaded; and then, turning
+gradually from the more frequented streets, the two were soon lost to
+view in one of the dimmest alleys of the city.
+
+The cheerful fire was blazing in his parlor, as, returned from his long,
+wet walk, he was sitting by it with his feet comfortably incased in
+slippers. The astral was burning brightly on the centre table, and a
+group of children were around it, studying their lessons.
+
+"Papa," said a little boy, "what does this verse mean? It's in my Sunday
+school lesson. 'Make to yourselves _friends of the mammon of
+unrighteousness, that when ye fail, they may receive you into
+everlasting habitations_.'"
+
+"You ought to have asked your teacher, my son."
+
+"But he said he didn't know exactly what it meant. He wanted me to look
+this week and see if I could find out."
+
+Mr. H.'s standing resource in all exegetical difficulties was Dr.
+Scott's Family Bible. Therefore he now got up, and putting on his
+spectacles, walked to the glass bookcase, and took down a volume of that
+worthy commentator, and opening it, read aloud the whole exposition of
+the passage, together with the practical reflections upon it; and by the
+time he had done, he found his young auditor fast asleep in his chair.
+
+"Mother," said he, "this child plays too hard. He can't keep his eyes
+open evenings. It's time he was in bed."
+
+"I wasn't asleep, pa," said Master Henry, starting up with that air of
+injured innocence with which gentlemen of his age generally treat an
+imputation of this kind.
+
+"Then can you tell me now what the passage means that I have been
+reading to you?"
+
+"There's so much of it," said Henry, hopelessly, "I wish you'd just tell
+me in short order, father."
+
+"O, read it for yourself," said Mr. H., as he pushed the book towards
+the boy, for it was to be confessed that he perceived at this moment
+that he had not himself received any particularly luminous impression,
+though of course he thought it was owing to his own want of
+comprehension.
+
+Mr. H. leaned back in his rocking chair, and on his own private account
+began to speculate a little as to what he really should think the verse
+might mean, supposing he were at all competent to decide upon it. "'Make
+to yourselves friends of the mammon of unrighteousness,'" says he:
+"that's money, very clearly. How am I to make friends with it or of it?
+Receive me into everlasting habitations: that's a singular kind of
+expression. I wonder what it means. Dr. Scott makes some very good
+remarks about it--but somehow I'm not exactly clear." It must be
+remarked that this was not an uncommon result of Mr. H.'s critical
+investigations in this quarter.
+
+Well, thoughts will wander; and as he lay with his head on the back of
+his rocking chair, and his eyes fixed on the flickering blaze of the
+coal, visions of his wet tramp in the city, and of the lonely garret he
+had been visiting, and of the poor woman with the pale, discouraged
+face, to whom he had carried warmth and comfort, all blended themselves
+together. He felt, too, a little indefinite creeping chill, and some
+uneasy sensations in his head like a commencing cold, for he was not a
+strong man, and it is probable his long, wet walk was likely to cause
+him some inconvenience in this way. At last he was fast asleep, nodding
+in his chair.
+
+He dreamed that he was very sick in bed, that the doctor came and went,
+and that he grew sicker and sicker. He was going to die. He saw his wife
+sitting weeping by his pillow--his children standing by with pale and
+frightened faces; all things in his room began to swim, and waver, and
+fade, and voices that called his name, and sobs and lamentations that
+rose around him, seemed far off and distant in his ear. "O eternity,
+eternity! I am going--I am going," he thought; and in that hour, strange
+to tell, not one of all his good deeds seemed good enough to lean
+on--all bore some taint or tinge, to his purified eye, of mortal
+selfishness, and seemed unholy before the ALL PURE. "I am going," he
+thought; "there is no time to stay, no time to alter, to balance
+accounts; and I know not what I am, but I know, O Jesus, what THOU art.
+I have trusted in thee, and shall never be confounded;" and with that
+last breath of prayer earth was past.
+
+A soft and solemn breathing, as of music, awakened him. As an infant
+child not yet fully awake hears the holy warblings of his mother's hymn,
+and smiles half conscious, so the heaven-born became aware of sweet
+voices and loving faces around him ere yet he fully woke to the new
+immortal LIFE.
+
+"Ah, he has come at last. How long we have waited for him! Here he is
+among us. Now forever welcome! welcome!" said the voices.
+
+Who shall speak the joy of that latest birth, the birth from death to
+life! the sweet, calm, inbreathing consciousness of purity and rest, the
+certainty that all sin, all weakness and error, are at last gone
+forever; the deep, immortal rapture of repose--felt to be but
+begun--never to end!
+
+So the eyes of the heaven-born opened on the new heaven and the new
+earth, and wondered at the crowd of loving faces that thronged about
+him. Fair, godlike forms of beauty, such as earth never knew, pressed
+round him with blessings, thanks, and welcome.
+
+The man spoke not, but he wondered in his heart who they were, and
+whence it came that they knew him; and as soon as the inquiry formed
+itself in his soul, it was read at once by his heavenly friends. "I,"
+said one bright spirit, "was a poor boy whom you found in the streets:
+you sought me out, you sent me to school, you watched over me, and led
+me to the house of God; and now here I am." "And we," said other voices,
+"are other neglected children whom you redeemed; we also thank you."
+"And I," said another, "was a lost, helpless girl: sold to sin and
+shame, nobody thought I could be saved; every body passed me by till you
+came. You built a home, a refuge for such poor wretches as I, and there
+I and many like me heard of Jesus; and here we are." "And I," said
+another, "was once a clerk in your store. I came to the city innocent,
+but I was betrayed by the tempter. I forgot my mother, and my mother's
+God. I went to the gaming table and the theatre, and at last I robbed
+your drawer. You might have justly cast me off; but you bore with me,
+you watched over me, you saved me. I am here through you this day." "And
+I," said another, "was a poor slave girl--doomed to be sold on the
+auction block to a life of infamy, and the ruin of soul and body. Had
+you not been willing to give so largely for my ransom, no one had
+thought to buy me. You stimulated others to give, and I was redeemed. I
+lived a Christian mother to bring my children up for Christ--they are
+all here with me to bless you this day, and their children on earth, and
+their children's children are growing up to bless you." "And I," said
+another, "was an unbeliever. In the pride of my intellect, I thought I
+could demonstrate the absurdity of Christianity. I thought I could
+answer the argument from miracles and prophecy; but your patient,
+self-denying life was an argument I never could answer. When I saw you
+spending all your time and all your money in efforts for your
+fellow-men, undiscouraged by ingratitude, and careless of praise, then I
+thought, 'There is something divine in that man's life,' and that
+thought brought me here."
+
+The man looked around on the gathering congregation, and he saw that
+there was no one whom he had drawn heavenward that had not also drawn
+thither myriads of others. In his lifetime he had been scattering seeds
+of good around from hour to hour, almost unconsciously; and now he saw
+every seed springing up into a widening forest of immortal beauty and
+glory. It seemed to him that there was to be no end of the numbers that
+flocked to claim him as their long-expected soul friend. His heart was
+full, and his face became as that of an angel as he looked up to One who
+seemed nearer than all, and said, "This is thy love for me, unworthy, O
+Jesus. Of thee, and to thee, and through thee are all things. Amen."
+
+Amen! as with chorus of many waters and mighty thunderings the sound
+swept onward, and died far off in chiming echoes among the distant
+stars, and the man awoke.
+
+
+
+
+A SCENE IN JERUSALEM.
+
+
+It is now nearly noon, the busiest and most bustling hour of the day;
+yet the streets of the Holy City seem deserted and silent as the grave.
+The artisan has left his bench, the merchant his merchandise; the
+throngs of returned wanderers which this great national festival has
+brought up from every land of the earth, and which have been for the
+last week carrying life and motion through every street, seem suddenly
+to have disappeared. Here and there solitary footfalls, like the last
+pattering rain drops after a shower, awaken the echoes of the streets;
+and here and there some lonely woman looks from the housetop with
+anxious and agitated face, as if she would discern something in the far
+distance.
+
+Alone, or almost alone, the few remaining priests move like
+white-winged, solitary birds over the gorgeous pavements of the temple,
+and as they mechanically conduct the ministrations of the day, cast
+significant glances on each other, and pause here and there to converse
+in anxious whispers.
+
+Ah there is one voice which they have often heard beneath those
+arches--a voice which ever bore in it a mysterious and thrilling
+charm--which they know will be hushed to-day. Chief priest, scribe, and
+doctor have all gone out in the death procession after him; and these
+few remaining ones, far from the excitement of the crowd, and busied in
+calm and sacred duties, find voices of anxious questioning rising from
+the depths of their own souls, "What if this indeed were the Christ?"
+
+But pass we on out of the city, and what a surging tide of life and
+motion meets the eye, as if all nations under heaven had dashed their
+waves of population on this Judean shore! A noisy, wrathful, tempestuous
+mob, billow on billow, waver and rally round some central object, which
+it conceals from view. Parthians, Medes, Elamites, dwellers in
+Mesopotamia and Egypt, strangers of Rome, Cretes and Arabians, Jew and
+Proselyte, convoked from the ends of the earth, throng in agitated
+concourse one on another; one theme in every face, on every tongue, one
+name in every variety of accent and dialect passing from lip to lip:
+"Jesus of Nazareth!"
+
+Look on that man--the centre and cause of all this outburst! He stands
+there alone. The cross is ready. It lies beneath his feet. The rough
+hand of a brutal soldier has seized his robe to tear it from him.
+Another with stalwart arm is boring the holes, gazing upward the while
+with a face of stupid unconcern. There on the ground lie the hammer and
+the nails: the hour, the moment of doom is come! Look on this man, as
+upward, with deep, sorrowing eyes, he gazes towards heaven. Hears he the
+roar of the mob? Feels he the rough hand on his garment? Nay, he sees
+not, feels not: from all the rage and tumult of the hour he is rapt
+away. A sorrow deeper, more absorbing, more unearthly seems to possess
+him, as upward with long gaze he looks to that heaven never before
+closed to his prayer, to that God never before to him invisible. That
+mournful, heaven-searching glance, in its lonely anguish, says but one
+thing: "Lo, I come to do thy will, O God."
+
+Through a life of sorrow the realized love of his Father has shone like
+a precious and beautiful talisman in his bosom; but now, when desolation
+and anguish have come upon him as a whirlwind, this last star has gone
+out in the darkness, and Jesus, deserted by man and God, stands there
+_alone_.
+
+Alone? No; for undaunted by the cruel mob, fearless in the strength of
+mortal anguish, helpless, yet undismayed, stands the one blessed among
+women, the royal daughter of a noble line, the priestess to whose care
+was intrusted this spotless sacrifice. She and her son, last of a race
+of kings, stand there despised, rejected, and disavowed by their nation,
+to accomplish dread words of prophecy, which have swept down for far
+ages to this hour.
+
+Strange it is, in this dark scene, to see the likeness between mother
+and son, deepening in every line of those faces, as they stand thus
+thrown out by the dark background of rage and hate, which like a storm
+cloud lowers around. The same rapt, absorbed, calm intensity of anguish
+in both mother and son, save only that while he gazes upward towards
+God, she, with like fervor, gazes on him. What to her is the deriding
+mob, the coarse taunt, the brutal abuse? Of it all she hears, she feels
+nothing. She sinks not, faints not, weeps not; her whole being
+concentrates in the will to suffer by and with him to the last. Other
+hearts there are that beat for him; others that press into the doomed
+circle, and own him amid the scorn of thousands. There may you see the
+clasped hands and upraised eyes of a Magdalen, the pale and steady
+resolve of John, the weeping company of women who bewailed and lamented
+him; but none dare press so near, or seem so identical with him in his
+sufferings, as this mother.
+
+And as we gaze on these two in human form, surrounded by other human
+forms, how strange the contrast! How is it possible that human features
+and human lineaments essentially alike, can be wrought into such
+heaven-wide contrast? MAN is he who stands there, lofty and spotless, in
+bleeding patience! _Men_ also are those brutal soldiers, alike stupidly
+ready, at the word of command, to drive the nail through quivering flesh
+or insensate wood. _Men_ are those scowling priests and infuriate
+Pharisees. _Men_, also, the shifting figures of the careless rabble, who
+shout and curse without knowing why. No visible glory shines round that
+head; yet how, spite of every defilement cast upon him by the vulgar
+rabble, seems that form to be glorified! What light is that in those
+eyes! What mournful beauty in that face! What solemn, mysterious
+sacredness investing the whole form, constraining from us the
+exclamation, "Surely this is the Son of God." _Man's_ voice is breathing
+vulgar taunt and jeer: "He saved others; himself he cannot save." "He
+trusted in God; let him deliver him if he will have him." And _man's_,
+also, clear, sweet, unearthly, pierces that stormy mob, saying, "Father,
+forgive them; they know not what they do."
+
+But we draw the veil in reverence. It is not ours to picture what the
+sun refused to shine upon, and earth shook to behold.
+
+Little thought those weeping women, that stricken disciple, that
+heart-broken mother, how on some future day that cross--emblem to them
+of deepest infamy--should blaze in the eye of all nations, symbol of
+triumph and hope, glittering on gorgeous fanes, embroidered on regal
+banners, associated with all that is revered and powerful on earth. The
+Roman ensign that waved on that mournful day, symbol of highest earthly
+power, is a thing mouldered and forgotten; and over all the high places
+of old Rome, herself stands that mystical cross, no longer speaking of
+earthly anguish and despair, but of heavenly glory, honor, and
+immortality.
+
+Theologians have endlessly disputed and philosophized on this great fact
+of _atonement_. The Bible tells only that this tragic event was the
+essential point without which our salvation could never have been
+secured. But where lay the necessity they do not say. What was that
+dread strait that either the divine One must thus suffer, or man be
+lost, who knoweth?
+
+To this question answer a thousand voices, with each a different
+solution, urged with equal confidence--each solution to its framer as
+certain and sacred as the dread fact it explains--yet every one,
+perhaps, unsatisfactory to the deep-questioning soul. The Bible, as it
+always does, gives on this point not definitions or distinct outlines,
+but images--images which lose all their glory and beauty if seized by
+the harsh hands of metaphysical analysis, but inexpressibly affecting to
+the unlettered human heart, which softens in gazing on their mournful
+and mysterious beauty. Christ is called our sacrifice, our passover, our
+atoning high priest; and he himself, while holding in his hands the
+emblem cup, says, "It is my blood, shed for _many_, for the _remission
+of sins_." Let us reason on it as we will, this story of the cross,
+presented without explanation in the simple metaphor of the Bible, has
+produced an effect on human nature wholly unaccountable. In every age
+and clime, with every variety of habit, thought, and feeling, from the
+cannibals of New Zealand and Madagascar to the most enlightened and
+scientific minds in Christendom, one feeling, essentially homogeneous in
+its character and results, has arisen in view of this cross. There is
+something in it that strikes one of the great nerves of simple,
+unsophisticated humanity, and meets its wants as nothing else will. Ages
+ago, Paul declared to philosophizing Greek and scornful Roman that he
+was not ashamed of this gospel, and alleged for his reason this very
+adaptedness to humanity. _A priori_, many would have said that Paul
+should have told of Christ living, Christ preaching, Christ working
+miracles, not omitting also the pathetic history of how he sealed all
+with his blood; but Paul declared that he determined to know nothing
+else but Christ _crucified_. He said it was a stumbling block to the
+Jew, an absurdity to the Greek; yet he was none the less positive in his
+course. True, there was many then, as now, who looked on with the most
+philosophic and cultivated indifference. The courtly Festus, as he
+settled his purple tunic, declared he could make nothing of the matter,
+only a dispute about one Jesus, who was dead, and whom Paul affirmed to
+be alive; and perchance some Athenian, as he reclined on his ivory couch
+at dinner, after the sermon on Mars Hill, may have disposed of the
+matter very summarily, and passed on to criticisms on Samian wine and
+marble vases. Yet in spite of their disbelief, this story of Christ has
+outlived them, their age and nation, and is to this hour as fresh in
+human hearts as if it were just published. This "one Jesus which was
+dead, and whom Paul affirmed to be alive," is nominally, at least, the
+object of religious homage in all the more cultivated portions of the
+globe; and to hearts scattered through all regions of the earth this
+same Jesus is now a sacred and living name, dearer than all household
+sounds, all ties of blood, all sweetest and nearest affections of
+humanity. "I am ready not only to be bound, but also to die for the name
+of the Lord Jesus," are words that have found an echo in the bosoms of
+thousands in every age since then; that would, if need were, find no
+less echo in thousands now. Considering Christ as a man, and his death
+as a mere pathetic story,--considering him as one of the great martyrs
+for truth, who sealed it with his blood,--this result is wholly
+unaccountable. Other martyrs have died, bravely and tenderly, in their
+last hours "bearing witness of the godlike" that is in man; but who so
+remembers them? Who so loves them? To whom is any one of them a living
+presence, a life, an all? Yet so thousands look on Jesus at this hour.
+
+Nay, it is because this story strikes home to every human bosom as an
+individual concern. A thrilling voice speaks from this scene of anguish
+to every human bosom: This is _thy_ Savior. _Thy_ sin hath done this. It
+is the appropriative words, _thine_ and _mine_, which make this history
+different from any other history. This was for _me_, is the thought
+which has pierced the apathy of the Greenlander, and kindled the stolid
+clay of the Hottentot; and no human bosom has ever been found so low, so
+lost, so guilty, so despairing, that this truth, once received, has not
+had power to redeem, regenerate, and disenthrall. Christ so presented
+becomes to every human being a friend nearer than the mother who bore
+him; and the more degraded, the more hopeless and polluted, is the
+nature, the stronger comes on the living reaction, if this belief is
+really and vividly enkindled with it. But take away this appropriative,
+individual element, and this legend of Jesus's death has no more power
+than any other. He is to us no more than Washington or Socrates, or
+Howard. And where is there not a touchstone to try every theory of
+atonement? Whatever makes a man feel that he is only a spectator, an
+uninterested judge in this matter, is surely astray from the idea of the
+Bible. Whatever makes him feel that his sins have done this deed, that
+he is bound, soul and body, to this Deliverer, though it may be in many
+points philosophically erroneous, cannot go far astray.
+
+If we could tell the number of the stars, and call them forth by name,
+then, perhaps, might we solve all the mystic symbols by which the Bible
+has shadowed forth the far-lying necessities and reachings-forth of this
+event "among principalities and powers," and in "ages to come." But he
+who knows nothing of all this, who shall so present the atonement as to
+bind and affiance human souls indissolubly to their Redeemer, does all
+that could be done by the highest and most perfect knowledge.
+
+The great object is accomplished, when the soul, rapt, inspired, feels
+the deep resolve,--
+
+                "Remember Thee!
+    Yea, from the table of my memory
+    I'll wipe away all trivial, fond records,
+    All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past
+    That youth and observation copied there,
+    And thy commandment all alone shall live
+    Within the book and volume of my brain,
+    Unmixed with baser matter."
+
+
+
+
+THE OLD MEETING HOUSE.
+
+SKETCH FROM THE NOTE BOOK OF AN OLD GENTLEMAN.
+
+
+Never shall I forget the dignity and sense of importance which swelled
+my mind when I was first pronounced old enough to go to meeting. That
+eventful Sunday I was up long before day, and even took my Sabbath suit
+to the window to ascertain by the first light that it actually was
+there, just as it looked the night before. With what complacency did I
+view myself completely dressed! How did I count over the rows of yellow
+gilt buttons on my coat! how my good mother, grandmother, and aunts
+fussed, and twitched, and pulled, to make every thing set up and set
+down, just in the proper place! how my clean, starched white collar was
+turned over and smoothed again and again, and my golden curls twisted
+and arranged to make the most of me! and, last of all, how I was
+cautioned not to be thinking of my clothes! In truth, I was in those
+days a very handsome youngster, and it really is no more than justice to
+let the fact be known, as there is nothing in my present appearance from
+which it could ever be inferred. Every body in the house successively
+asked me if I should be a good boy, and sit still, and not talk, nor
+laugh; and my mother informed me, _in terrorem_, that there was a
+tithing man, who carried off naughty children, and shut them up in a
+dark place behind the pulpit; and that this tithing man, Mr. Zephaniah
+Scranton, sat just where he could see me. This fact impressed my mind
+with more solemnity than all the exhortations which had preceded it--a
+proof of the efficacy of facts above reason. Under shadow and power of
+this weighty truth, I demurely took hold of my mother's forefinger to
+walk to meeting.
+
+The traveller in New England, as he stands on some eminence, and looks
+down on its rich landscape of golden grain and waving cornfield, sees no
+feature more beautiful than its simple churches, whose white taper
+fingers point upward, amid the greenness and bloom of the distant
+prospects, as if to remind one of the overshadowing providence whence
+all this luxuriant beauty flows; and year by year, as new ones are added
+to the number, or succeed in the place of old ones, there is discernible
+an evident improvement in their taste and architecture. Those modest
+Doric little buildings, with their white pillars, green blinds, and neat
+enclosures, are very different affairs from those great, uncouth
+mountains of windows and doors that stood in the same place years
+before. To my childish eye, however, our old meeting house was an
+awe-inspiring thing. To me it seemed fashioned very nearly on the model
+of Noah's ark and Solomon's temple, as set forth in the pictures in my
+Scripture Catechism--pictures which I did not doubt were authentic
+copies; and what more respectable and venerable architectural precedent
+could any one desire? Its double rows of windows, of which I knew the
+number by heart, its doors with great wooden quirls over them, its
+belfry projecting out at the east end, its steeple and bell, all
+inspired as much sense of the sublime in me as Strasbourg Cathedral
+itself; and the inside was not a whit less imposing.
+
+How magnificent, to my eye, seemed the turnip-like canopy that hung over
+the minister's head, hooked by a long iron rod to the wall above! and
+how apprehensively did I consider the question, what would become of him
+if it should fall! How did I wonder at the panels on either side of the
+pulpit, in each of which was carved and painted a flaming red tulip,
+bolt upright, with its leaves projecting out at right angles! and then
+at the grape vine, bass relieved on the front, with its exactly
+triangular bunches of grapes, alternating at exact intervals with
+exactly triangular leaves. To me it was an indisputable representation
+of how grape vines ought to look, if they would only be straight and
+regular, instead of curling and scrambling, and twisting themselves into
+all sorts of slovenly shapes. The area of the house was divided into
+large square pews, boxed up with stout boards, and surmounted with a
+kind of baluster work, which I supposed to be provided for the special
+accommodation of us youngsters, being the "loopholes of retreat" through
+which we gazed on the "remarkabilia" of the scene. It was especially
+interesting to me to notice the coming in to meeting of the
+congregation. The doors were so contrived that on entering you stepped
+_down_ instead of _up_--a construction that has more than once led to
+unlucky results in the case of strangers. I remember once when an
+unlucky Frenchman, entirely unsuspicious of the danger that awaited him,
+made entrance by pitching devoutly upon his nose in the middle of the
+broad aisle; that it took three bunches of my grandmother's fennel to
+bring my risibles into any thing like composure. Such exhibitions,
+fortunately for me, were very rare; but still I found great amusement in
+watching the distinctive and marked outlines of the various people that
+filled up the seats around me. A Yankee village presents a picture of
+the curiosities of every generation: there, from year to year, they live
+on, preserved by hard labor and regular habits, exhibiting every
+peculiarity of manner and appearance, as distinctly marked as when they
+first came from the mint of nature. And as every body goes punctually to
+meeting, the meeting house becomes a sort of museum of antiquities--a
+general muster ground for past and present.
+
+I remember still with what wondering admiration I used to look around on
+the people that surrounded our pew. On one side there was an old Captain
+McLean, and Major McDill, a couple whom the mischievous wits of the
+village designated as Captain McLean and Captain McFat; and, in truth,
+they were a perfect antithesis, a living exemplification of flesh and
+spirit. Captain McLean was a mournful, lengthy, considerate-looking old
+gentleman, with a long face, digressing into a long, thin, horny nose,
+which, when he applied his pocket handkerchief, gave forth a melancholy,
+minor-keyed sound, such as a ghost might make, using a pocket
+handkerchief in the long gallery of some old castle.
+
+Close at his side was the doughty, puffing Captain McDill, whose
+full-orbed, jolly visage was illuminated by a most valiant red nose,
+shaped something like an overgrown doughnut, and looking as if it had
+been thrown _at_ his face, and happened to hit in the middle. Then there
+was old Israel Peters, with a wooden leg, which tramped into meeting,
+with undeviating regularity, ten minutes before meeting time; and there
+was Jedediah Stebbins, a thin, wistful, moonshiny-looking old gentleman,
+whose mouth appeared as if it had been gathered up with a needle and
+thread, and whose eyes seemed as if they had been bound with red tape;
+and there was old Benaiah Stephens, who used regularly to get up and
+stand when the minister was about half through his sermon, exhibiting
+his tall figure, long, single-breasted coat, with buttons nearly as
+large as a tea plate; his large, black, horn spectacles stretched down
+on the extreme end of a very long nose, and vigorously chewing,
+meanwhile, on the bunch of caraway which he always carried in one hand.
+Then there was Aunt Sally Stimpson, and old Widow Smith, and a whole
+bevy of little, dried old ladies, with small, straight, black bonnets,
+tight sleeves to the elbow, long silk gloves, and great fans, big enough
+for a windmill; and of a hot day it was a great amusement to me to watch
+the bobbing of the little black bonnets, which showed that sleep had got
+the better of their owners' attention, and the sputter and rustling of
+the fans, when a more profound nod than common would suddenly waken
+them, and set them to fanning and listening with redoubled devotion.
+There was Deacon Dundas, a great wagon load of an old gentleman, whose
+ample pockets looked as if they might have held half the congregation,
+who used to establish himself just on one side of me, and seemed to feel
+such entire confidence in the soundness and capacity of his pastor that
+he could sleep very comfortably from one end of the sermon to the other.
+Occasionally, to be sure, one of your officious blue flies, who, as
+every body knows, are amazingly particular about such matters, would
+buzz into his mouth, or flirt into his ears a passing admonition as to
+the impropriety of sleeping in meeting, when the good old gentleman
+would start, open his eyes very wide, and look about with a resolute
+air, as much as to say, "I wasn't asleep, I can tell you;" and then
+setting himself in an edifying posture of attention, you might perceive
+his head gradually settling back, his mouth slowly opening wider and
+wider, till the good man would go off again soundly asleep, as if
+nothing had happened.
+
+It was a good orthodox custom of old times to take every part of the
+domestic establishment to meeting, even down to the faithful dog, who,
+as he had supervised the labors of the week, also came with due
+particularity to supervise the worship of Sunday. I think I can see now
+the fitting out on a Sunday morning--the one wagon, or two, as the case
+might be, tackled up with an "old gray" or an "old bay," with a buffalo
+skin over the seat by way of cushion, and all the family, in their
+Sunday best, packed in for meeting; while Master Bose, Watch, or Towser
+stood prepared to be an outguard and went meekly trotting up hill and
+down dale in the rear. Arrived at meeting, the canine part of the
+establishment generally conducted themselves with great decorum, lying
+down and going to sleep as decently as any body present, except when
+some of the business-loving bluebottles aforesaid would make a sortie
+upon them, when you might hear the snap of their jaws as they vainly
+sought to lay hold of the offender. Now and then, between some of the
+sixthlies, seventhlies, and eighthlies, you might hear some old
+patriarch giving himself a rousing shake, and pitpatting soberly up the
+aisles, as if to see that every thing was going on properly, after which
+he would lie down and compose himself to sleep again; and certainly this
+was as improving a way of spending Sunday as a good Christian dog could
+desire.
+
+But the glory of our meeting house was its singers' seat--that empyrean
+of those who rejoiced in the divine, mysterious art of fa-sol-la-ing,
+who, by a distinguishing grace and privilege, could "raise and fall" the
+cabalistical eight notes, and move serene through the enchanted region
+of flats, sharps, thirds, fifths, and octaves.
+
+There they sat in the gallery that lined three sides of the house,
+treble, counter, tenor, and bass, each with its appropriate leaders and
+supporters; there were generally seated the bloom of our young people;
+sparkling, modest, and blushing girls on one side, with their ribbons
+and finery, making the place where they sat as blooming and lively as a
+flower garden, and fiery, forward, confident young men on the other. In
+spite of its being a meeting house, we could not swear that glances were
+never given and returned, and that there was not often as much of an
+approach to flirtation as the distance and the sobriety of the place
+would admit. Certain it was, that there was no place where our village
+coquettes attracted half so many eyes or led astray half so many hearts.
+
+But I have been talking of singers all this time, and neglected to
+mention the Magnus Apollo of the whole concern, the redoubtable
+chorister, who occupied the seat of honor in the midst of the middle
+gallery, and exactly opposite to the minister. Certain it is that the
+good man, if he were alive, would never believe it; for no person ever
+more magnified his office, or had a more thorough belief in his own
+greatness and supremacy, than Zedekiah Morse. Methinks I can see him now
+as he appeared to my eyes on that first Sunday, when he shot up from
+behind the gallery, as if he had been sent up by a spring. He was a
+little man, whose fiery-red hair, brushed straight up on the top of his
+head, had an appearance as vigorous and lively as real flame; and this,
+added to the ardor and determination of all his motions, had obtained
+for him the surname of the "Burning Bush." He seemed possessed with the
+very soul of song; and from the moment he began to sing, looked alive
+all over, till it seemed to me that his whole body would follow his hair
+upwards, fairly rapt away by the power of harmony. With what an air did
+he sound the important _fa-sol-la_ in the ears of the waiting gallery,
+who stood with open mouths ready to seize their pitch, preparatory to
+their general _set to_! How did his ascending and descending arm
+astonish the zephyrs when once he laid himself out to the important work
+of beating time! How did his little head whisk from side to side, as now
+he beat and roared towards the ladies on his right, and now towards the
+gentlemen on his left! It used to seem to my astonished vision as if his
+form grew taller, his arm longer, his hair redder, and his little green
+eyes brighter, with every stave; and particularly when he perceived any
+falling off of time or discrepancy in pitch; with what redoubled vigor
+would he thump the gallery and roar at the delinquent quarter, till
+every mother's son and daughter of them skipped and scrambled into the
+right place again!
+
+O, it was a fine thing to see the vigor and discipline with which he
+managed the business; so that if, on a hot, drowsy Sunday, any part of
+the choir hung back or sung sleepily on the first part of a verse, they
+were obliged to bestir themselves in good earnest, and sing three times
+as fast, in order to get through with the others. 'Kiah Morse was no
+advocate for your dozy, drawling singing, that one may do at leisure,
+between sleeping and waking, I assure you; indeed, he got entirely out
+of the graces of Deacon Dundas and one or two other portly, leisurely
+old gentlemen below, who had been used to throw back their heads, shut
+up their eyes, and take the comfort of the psalm, by prolonging
+indefinitely all the notes. The first Sunday after 'Kiah took the music
+in hand, the old deacon really rubbed his eyes and looked about him; for
+the psalm was sung off before he was ready to get his mouth opened, and
+he really looked upon it as a most irreverent piece of business.
+
+But the glory of 'Kiah's art consisted in the execution of those good
+old billowy compositions called fuguing tunes, where the four parts that
+compose the choir take up the song, and go racing around one after
+another, each singing a different set of words, till, at length, by some
+inexplicable magic, they all come together again, and sail smoothly out
+into a rolling sea of song. I remember the wonder with which I used to
+look from side to side when treble, tenor, counter, and bass were thus
+roaring and foaming,--and it verily seemed to me as if the psalm was
+going to pieces among the breakers,--and the delighted astonishment with
+which I found that each particular verse did emerge whole and uninjured
+from the storm.
+
+But alas for the wonders of that old meeting house, how they are passed
+away! Even the venerable building itself has been pulled down, and its
+fragments scattered; yet still I retain enough of my childish feelings
+to wonder whether any little boy was gratified by the possession of
+those painted tulips and grape vines, which my childish eye used to
+covet, and about the obtaining of which, in case the house should ever
+be pulled down, I devised so many schemes during the long sermons and
+services of summer days. I have visited the spot where it stood, but the
+modern, fair-looking building that stands in its room bears no trace of
+it; and of the various familiar faces that used to be seen inside, not
+one remains. Verily, I must be growing old; and as old people are apt to
+spin long stories, I check myself, and lay down my pen.
+
+
+
+
+THE NEW-YEAR'S GIFT.
+
+
+The sparkling ice and snow covered hill and valley--tree and bush were
+glittering with diamonds--the broad, coarse rails of the fence shone
+like bars of solid silver, while little fringes of icicles glittered
+between each bar.
+
+In the yard of yonder dwelling the scarlet berries of the mountain ash
+shine through a transparent casing of crystal, and the sable spruces and
+white pines, powdered and glittering with the frost, have assumed an icy
+brilliancy. The eaves of the house, the door knocker, the pickets of the
+fence, the honeysuckles and seringas, once the boast of summer, are all
+alike polished, varnished, and resplendent with their winter trappings,
+now gleaming in the last rays of the early sunset.
+
+Within that large, old-fashioned dwelling might you see an ample parlor,
+all whose adjustments and arrangements speak of security, warmth, and
+home enjoyment; of money spent not for show, but for comfort. Thick
+crimson curtains descend in heavy folds over the embrasures of the
+windows, and the ample hearth and wide fireplace speak of the customs of
+the good old times, ere that gloomy, unpoetic, unsocial gnome--the
+air-tight--had monopolized the place of the blazing fireside.
+
+No dark air-tight, however, filled our ancient chimney; but there was a
+genuine old-fashioned fire of the most approved architecture, with a
+gallant backlog and forestick, supporting and keeping in order a
+crackling pile of dry wood, that was whirring and blazing warm welcome
+for all whom it might concern, occasionally bursting forth into most
+portentous and earnest snaps, which rung through the room with a
+genuine, hospitable emphasis, as if the fire was enjoying himself, and
+having a good time, and wanted all hands to draw up and make themselves
+at home with him.
+
+So looked that parlor to me, when, tired with a long day's ride, I found
+my way into it, just at evening, and was greeted with a hearty welcome
+from my old friend, Colonel Winthrop.
+
+In addition to all that I have already described, let the reader add, if
+he pleases, the vision of a wide and ample tea table, covered with a
+snowy cloth, on which the servants are depositing the evening meal.
+
+I had not seen Winthrop for years; but we were old college friends, and
+I had gladly accepted an invitation to renew our ancient intimacy by
+passing the New Year's season in his family. I found him still the same
+hale, kindly, cheery fellow as in days of old, though time had taken the
+same liberty with his handsome head that Jack Frost had with the cedars
+and spruces out of doors, in giving to it a graceful and becoming
+sprinkle of silver.
+
+"Here you are, my dear fellow," said he, shaking me by both hands--"just
+in season for the ham and chickens--coffee all smoking. My dear," he
+added to a motherly-looking woman who now entered, "here's John! I beg
+pardon, Mr. Stuart." As he spoke, two bold, handsome boys broke into the
+room, accompanied by a huge Newfoundland dog--all as full of hilarity
+and abundant animation as an afternoon of glorious skating could have
+generated.
+
+"Ha, Tom and Ned!--you rogues--you don't want any supper to-night, I
+suppose," said the father, gayly; "come up here and be introduced to my
+old friend. Here they come!" said he, as one by one the opening doors
+admitted the various children to the summons of the evening meal.
+"Here," presenting a tall young girl, "is our eldest, beginning to think
+herself a young lady, on the strength of being fifteen years old, and
+wearing her hair tucked up. And here is Eliza," said he, giving a pull
+to a blooming, roguish girl of ten, with large, saucy black eyes. "And
+here is Willie!" a bashful, blushing little fellow in a checked apron.
+"And now, where's the little queen?--where's her majesty?--where's
+Ally?"
+
+A golden head of curls was, at this instant, thrust timidly in at the
+door, and I caught a passing glimpse of a pair of great blue eyes; but
+the head, curls, eyes, and all, instantly vanished, though a little fat
+dimpled hand was seen holding on to the door, and swinging it back and
+forward. "Ally, dear, come in!" said the mother, in a tone of
+encouragement. "Come in, Ally! come in," was repeated in various tones,
+by each child; but brother Tom pushed open the door, and taking the
+little recusant in his arms, brought her fairly in, and deposited her on
+her father's knee. She took firm hold of his coat, and then turned and
+gazed shyly upon me--her large splendid blue eyes gleaming through her
+golden curls. It was evident that this was the pet lamb of the fold, and
+she was just at that age when babyhood is verging into childhood--an age
+often indefinitely prolonged in a large family, where the universal
+admiration that waits on every look, and motion, and word of _the baby_,
+and the multiplied monopolies and privileges of the baby estate, seem,
+by universal consent, to extend as long and as far as possible. And why
+not thus delay the little bark of the child among the flowery shores of
+its first Eden?--defer them as we may, the hard, the real, the cold
+commonplace of life comes on all too soon!
+
+"This is our New Year's gift," said Winthrop, fondly caressing the curly
+head. "Ally, tell the gentleman how old you are."
+
+"I s'all be four next New 'Ear's," said the little one, while all the
+circle looked applause.
+
+"Ally, tell the gentleman what you are," said brother Ned.
+
+Ally looked coquettishly at me, as if she did not know whether she
+should favor me to that extent, and the young princess was further
+solicited.
+
+"Tell him what Ally is," said the oldest sister, with a patronizing air.
+
+"Papa's New 'Ear's pesent," said my little lady, at last.
+
+"And mamma's, too!" said the mother gently, amid the applauses of the
+admiring circle.
+
+Winthrop looked apologetically at me, and said, "We all spoil
+her--that's a fact--every one of us down to Rover, there, who lets her
+tie tippets round his neck, and put bonnets on his head, and hug and
+kiss him, to a degree that would disconcert any other dog in the world."
+
+If ever beauty and poetic grace was an apology for spoiling, it was in
+this case. Every turn of the bright head, every change of the dimpled
+face and round and chubby limbs, was a picture; and within the little
+form was shrined a heart full of love, and running over with compassion
+and good will for every breathing thing; with feelings so sensitive,
+that it was papa's delight to make her laugh and cry with stories, and
+to watch in the blue, earnest mirror of her eye every change and turn of
+his narration, as he took her through long fairy tales, and
+old-fashioned giant and ghost legends, purely for his own amusement, and
+much reprimanded all the way by mamma, for filling the child's head with
+nonsense.
+
+It was now, however, time to turn from the beauty to the substantial
+realities of the supper table. I observed that Ally's high chair was
+stationed close by her father's side; and ever and anon, while gayly
+talking, he would slip into her rosy little mouth some choice bit from
+his plate, these notices and attentions seeming so instinctive and
+habitual, that they did not for a moment interrupt the thread of the
+conversation. Once or twice I caught a glimpse of Rover's great rough
+nose, turned anxiously up to the little chair; whereat the small white
+hand forthwith slid something into his mouth, though by what dexterity
+it ever came out from the great black jaws undevoured was a mystery.
+When the supply of meat on the small lady's plate was exhausted, I
+observed the little hand slyly slipping into her father's provision
+grounds, and with infinite address abstracting small morsels, whereat
+there was much mysterious winking between the father and the other
+children, and considerable tittering among the younger ones, though all
+in marvellous silence, as it was deemed best policy not to appear to
+notice Ally's tricks, lest they should become too obstreperous.
+
+In the course of the next day I found myself, to all intents and
+purposes, as much part and parcel of the family as if I had been born
+and bred among them. I found that I had come in a critical time, when
+secrets were plenty as blackberries. It being New Year's week, all the
+little hoarded resources of the children, both of money and of
+ingenuity, were in brisk requisition, getting up New Year's presents for
+each other, and for father and mother. The boys had their little tin
+savings banks, where all the stray pennies of the year had been
+carefully hoarded--all that had been got by blacking papa's boots, or by
+piling wood, or weeding in the garden--mingled with some fortunate
+additions which had come as windfalls from some liberal guest or friend.
+All now were poured out daily, on tables, on chairs, on stools, and
+counted over with wonderful earnestness.
+
+My friend, though in easy circumstances, was somewhat old-fashioned in
+his notions. He never allowed his children spending money, except such
+as they fairly earned by some exertions of their own. "Let them do
+something," he would say, "to make it fairly theirs, and their
+generosity will then have some significance--it is very easy for
+children to be generous on their parents' money." Great were the
+comparing of resources and estimates of property at this time. Tom and
+Ned, who were big enough to saw wood, and hoe in the garden, had
+accumulated the vast sum of three dollars each, and walked about with
+their hands in their pockets, and talked largely of purchases, like
+gentlemen of substance. They thought of getting mamma a new muff, and
+papa a writing desk, besides trinkets innumerable for sisters, and a big
+doll for Ally; but after they had made one expedition to a neighboring
+town to inquire prices, I observed that their expectations were greatly
+moderated. As to little Willie, him of the checked apron, his whole
+earthly substance amounted to thirty-seven cents; yet there was not a
+member of the whole family circle, including the servants, that he could
+find it in his heart to leave out of his remembrance. I ingratiated
+myself with him immediately; and twenty times a day did I count over his
+money to him, and did sums innumerable to show how much would be left if
+he got this, that, or the other article, which he was longing to buy for
+father or mother. I proved to him most invaluable, by helping him to
+think of certain small sixpenny and fourpenny articles that would be
+pretty to give to sisters, making out with marbles for Tom and Ned, and
+a very valiant-looking sugar horse for Ally. Miss Emma had the usual
+resource of young ladies, flosses, worsted, and knitting, and crochet
+needles, and busy fingers, and she was giving private lessons daily to
+Eliza, to enable her to get up some napkin rings, and book marks for the
+all-important occasion. A gentle air of bustle and mystery pervaded the
+whole circle. I was intrusted with so many secrets that I could scarcely
+make an observation, or take a turn about the room, without being
+implored to "remember"--"not to tell"--not to let papa know this, or
+mamma that. I was not to let papa know how the boys were going to buy
+him a new inkstand, with a pen rack upon it, which was entirely to
+outshine all previous inkstands; nor tell mamma about the crochet bag
+that Emma was knitting for her. On all sides were mysterious
+whisperings, and showing of things wrapped in brown paper, glimpses of
+which, through some inadvertence, were always appearing to the public
+eye. There were close counsels held behind doors and in corners, and
+suddenly broken off when some particular member of the family appeared.
+There were flutters of vanishing book marks, which were always whisked
+away when a door opened; and incessant ejaculations of admiration and
+astonishment from one privileged looker or another on things which might
+not be mentioned to or beheld by others.
+
+Papa and mamma behaved with the utmost circumspection and discretion,
+and though surrounded on all sides by such pitfalls and labyrinths of
+mystery, moved about with an air of the most unconscious simplicity
+possible.
+
+But little Ally, from her privileged character, became a very
+spoil-sport in the proceedings. Her small fingers were always pulling
+open parcels prematurely, or lifting pocket handkerchiefs ingeniously
+thrown down over mysterious articles, and thus disconcerting the very
+profoundest surprises that ever were planned; and were it not that she
+was still within the bounds of the kingly state of babyhood, and
+therefore could be held to do no wrong, she would certainly have fallen
+into general disgrace; but then it was "Ally," and that was apology for
+all things, and the exploit was related in half whispers as so funny, so
+cunning, that Miss Curlypate was in nowise disconcerted at the head
+shakes and "naughty Allys" that visited her offences.
+
+"What dis?" said she, one morning, as she was rummaging over some
+packages indiscreetly left on the sofa.
+
+"O Emma! see Ally!" exclaimed Eliza, darting forward; but too late, for
+the flaxen curls and blue eyes of a wax doll had already appeared.
+
+"Now she'll know all about it," said Eliza, despairingly.
+
+Ally looked in astonishment, as dolly's visage promptly disappeared from
+her view, and then turned to pursue her business in another quarter of
+the room, where, spying something glittering under the sofa, she
+forthwith pulled out and held up to public view a crochet bag sparkling
+with innumerable steel fringes.
+
+"O, what be dis!" she exclaimed again.
+
+Miss Emma sprang to the rescue, while all the other children, with a
+burst of exclamations, turned their eyes on mamma. Mamma very prudently
+did not turn her head, and appeared to be lost in reflection, though she
+must have been quite deaf not to have heard the loud whispers--"It's
+mamma's bag! only think! Don't you think, Tom, Ally pulled out mamma's
+bag, and held it right up before her! Don't you think she'll find out?"
+
+Master Tom valued himself greatly on the original and profound ways he
+had of adapting his presents to the tastes of the receiver without
+exciting suspicion: for example, he would come up into his mother's
+room, all booted and coated for a ride to town, jingling his purse
+gleefully, and begin,--
+
+"Mother, mother, which do you like best, pink or blue?"
+
+"That might depend on circumstances, my son."
+
+"Well, but, mother, for a neck ribbon, for example; suppose somebody was
+going to buy you a neck ribbon."
+
+"Why, blue would be the most suitable for me, I think."
+
+"Well, but mother, which should you think was the best, a neck ribbon or
+a book?"
+
+"What book? It would depend something on that."
+
+"Why, as good a book as a fellow could get for thirty-seven cents," says
+Tom.
+
+"Well, on the whole, I think I should prefer the ribbon."
+
+"There, Ned," says Tom, coming down the stairs, "I've found out just
+what mother wants, without telling her a word about it."
+
+But the crowning mystery of all the great family arcana, the thing that
+was going to astonish papa and mamma past all recovery, was certain
+projected book marks, that little Ally was going to be made to work for
+them. This bold scheme was projected by Miss Emma, and she had armed
+herself with a whole paper of sugar plums, to be used as adjuvants to
+moral influence, in case the discouragements of the undertaking should
+prove too much for Ally's patience.
+
+As to Ally, she felt all the dignity of the enterprise--her whole little
+soul was absorbed in it. Seated on Emma's knee, with the needle between
+her little fat fingers, and holding the board very tight, as if she was
+afraid it would run away from her, she very gravely and carefully stuck
+the needle in every place but the right--pricked her pretty fingers--ate
+sugar plums--stopping now to pat Rover, and now to stroke pussy--letting
+fall her thimble, and bustling down to pick it up--occasionally taking
+an episodical race round the room with Rover, during which time Sister
+Emma added a stitch or two to the work.
+
+I would not wish to have been required, on oath, to give in my
+undisguised opinion as to the number of stitches the little one really
+put into her present, but she had a most genuine and firm conviction
+that she worked every stitch of it herself; and when, on returning from
+a scamper with pussy, she found one or two letters finished, she never
+doubted that the whole was of her own execution, and, of course, thought
+that working book marks was one of the most delightful occupations in
+the world. It was all that her little heart could do to keep from papa
+and mamma the wonderful secret. Every evening she would bustle about her
+father with an air of such great mystery, and seek to pique his
+curiosity by most skilful hints, such as,--
+
+"I know somefing! but I s'ant tell you."
+
+"Not tell me! O Ally! Why not?"
+
+"O, it's about--a New 'Ear's pes----"
+
+"Ally, Ally," resounds from several voices, "don't you tell."
+
+"No, I s'ant--but you are going to have a New 'Ear's pesant, and so is
+mamma, and you can't dess what it is."
+
+"Can't I?"
+
+"No, and I s'ant tell you."
+
+"Now, Ally," said papa, pretending to look aggrieved.
+
+"Well, it's going to be--somefin worked."
+
+"Ally, be careful," said Emma.
+
+"Yes, I'll be very tareful; it's somefin--_weall_ pretty--somefin to put
+in a book. You'll find out about it by and by."
+
+"I think I'm in a fair way to," said the father.
+
+The conversation now digressed to other subjects, and the nurse came in
+to take Ally to bed; who, as she kissed her father, in the fulness of
+her heart, added a fresh burst of information. "Papa," said she, in an
+earnest whisper, "that _fin_ is about so long"--measuring on her fat
+little arm.
+
+"A _fin_, Ally? Why, you are not going to give me a fish, are you?"
+
+"I mean that _thing_," said Ally, speaking the word with great effort,
+and getting quite red in the face.
+
+"O, that _thing_; I beg pardon, my lady; that puts another face on the
+communication," said the father, stroking her head fondly, as he bade
+her good night.
+
+"The child can talk plainer than she does," said the father, "but we are
+all so delighted with her little Hottentot dialect, that I don't know
+but she will keep it up till she is twenty."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It now wanted only three days of the New Year, when a sudden and deadly
+shadow fell on the dwelling, late so busy and joyous--a shadow from the
+grave; and it fell on the flower of the garden--the star--the singing
+bird--the loved and loving Ally.
+
+She was stricken down at once, in the flush of her innocent enjoyment,
+by a fever, which from the first was ushered in with symptoms the most
+fearful.
+
+All the bustle of preparation ceased--the presents were forgotten or lay
+about unfinished, as if no one now had a heart to put their hand to any
+thing; while up in her little crib lay the beloved one, tossing and
+burning with restless fever, and without power to recognize any of the
+loved faces that bent over her.
+
+The doctor came twice a day, with a heavy step, and a face in which
+anxious care was too plainly written; and while he was there each member
+of the circle hung with anxious, imploring faces about him, as if to
+entreat him to save their darling; but still the deadly disease held on
+its relentless course, in spite of all that could be done.
+
+"I thought myself prepared to meet God's will in any form it might
+come," said Winthrop to me; "but this one thing I had forgotten. It
+never entered into my head that my little Ally could die."
+
+The evening before New Year's, the deadly disease seemed to be
+progressing more rapidly than ever; and when the doctor came for his
+evening call, he found all the family gathered in mournful stillness
+around the little crib.
+
+"I suppose," said the father, with an effort to speak calmly, "that this
+may be her last night with us."
+
+The doctor made no answer, and the whole circle of brothers and sisters
+broke out into bitter weeping.
+
+"It is just possible that she may live till to-morrow," said the doctor.
+
+"To-morrow--her birthday!" said the mother. "O Ally, Ally!"
+
+Wearily passed the watches of that night. Each brother and sister had
+kissed the pale little cheek, to bid farewell, and gone to their rooms,
+to sob themselves to sleep; and the father and mother and doctor alone
+watched around the bed. O, what a watch is that which despairing love
+keeps, waiting for death! Poor Rover, the companion of Ally's gayer
+hours, resolutely refused to be excluded from the sick chamber.
+Stretched under the little crib, he watched with unsleeping eyes every
+motion of the attendants, and as often as they rose to administer
+medicine, or change the pillow, or bathe the head, he would rise also,
+and look anxiously over the side of the crib, as if he understood all
+that was passing.
+
+About an hour past midnight, the child began to change; her moans became
+fainter and fainter, her restless movements ceased, and a deep and heavy
+sleep settled upon her.
+
+The parents looked wistfully on the doctor. "It is the last change," he
+said; "she will probably pass away before the daybreak."
+
+Heavier and deeper grew that sleep, and to the eye of the anxious
+watchers the little face grew paler and paler; yet by degrees the
+breathing became regular and easy, and a gentle moisture began to
+diffuse itself over the whole surface. A new hope began to dawn on the
+minds of the parents, as they pointed out these symptoms to the doctor.
+
+"All things are possible with God," said he, in answer to the inquiring
+looks he met, "and it may be that she will yet live."
+
+An hour more passed, and the rosy glow of the New Year's morning began
+to blush over the snowy whiteness of the landscape. Far off from the
+window could be seen the kindling glow of a glorious sunrise, looking
+all the brighter for the dark pines that half veiled it from view; and
+now a straight and glittering beam shot from the east into the still
+chamber. It fell on the golden hair and pale brow of the child, lighting
+it up as if an angel had smiled on it; and slowly the large blue eyes
+unclosed, and gazed dreamily around.
+
+"Ally, Ally," said the father, bending over her, trembling with
+excitement.
+
+"You are going to have a New 'Ear's pesent," whispered the little one,
+faintly smiling.
+
+"I believe from my heart that you are, sir!" said the doctor, who stood
+with his fingers on her pulse; "she has passed through the crisis of the
+disease, and we may hope."
+
+A few hours turned this hope to glad certainty; for with the elastic
+rapidity of infant life, the signs of returning vigor began to multiply,
+and ere evening the little one was lying in her father's arms, answering
+with languid smiles to the overflowing proofs of tenderness which every
+member of the family was showering upon her.
+
+"See, my children," said the father gently, "_this dear one_ is _our_
+New Year's present. What can we render to God in return?"
+
+
+
+
+THE OLD OAK OF ANDOVER.
+
+A REVERY.
+
+
+Silently, with dreamy languor, the fleecy snow is falling. Through the
+windows, flowery with blossoming geranium and heliotrope, through the
+downward sweep of crimson and muslin curtain, one watches it as the wind
+whirls and sways it in swift eddies.
+
+Right opposite our house, on our Mount Clear, is an old oak, the apostle
+of the primeval forest. Once, when this place was all wildwood, the man
+who was seeking a spot for the location of the buildings of Phillips
+Academy climbed this oak, using it as a sort of green watchtower, from
+whence he might gain a view of the surrounding country. Age and time,
+since then, have dealt hardly with the stanch old fellow. His limbs have
+been here and there shattered; his back begins to look mossy and
+dilapidated; but after all, there is a piquant, decided air about him,
+that speaks the old age of a tree of distinction, a kingly oak. To-day I
+see him standing, dimly revealed through the mist of falling snows;
+to-morrow's sun will show the outline of his gnarled limbs--all rose
+color with their soft snow burden; and again a few months, and spring
+will breathe on him, and he will draw a long breath, and break out once
+more, for the three hundredth time, perhaps, into a vernal crown of
+leaves. I sometimes think that leaves are the thoughts of trees, and
+that if we only knew it, we should find their life's experience recorded
+in them. Our oak! what a crop of meditations and remembrances must he
+have thrown forth, leafing out century after century. Awhile he spake
+and thought only of red deer and Indians; of the trillium that opened
+its white triangle in his shade; of the scented arbutus, fair as the
+pink ocean shell, weaving her fragrant mats in the moss at his feet; of
+feathery ferns, casting their silent shadows on the checkerberry leaves,
+and all those sweet, wild, nameless, half-mossy things, that live in the
+gloom of forests, and are only desecrated when brought to scientific
+light, laid out and stretched on a botanic bier. Sweet old forest
+days!--when blue jay, and yellow hammer, and bobalink made his leaves
+merry, and summer was a long opera of such music as Mozart dimly
+dreamed. But then came human kind bustling beneath; wondering, fussing,
+exploring, measuring, treading down flowers, cutting down trees, scaring
+bobalinks--and Andover, as men say, began to be settled.
+
+Staunch men were they--these Puritan fathers of Andover. The old oak
+must have felt them something akin to himself. Such strong, wrestling
+limbs had they, so gnarled and knotted were they, yet so outbursting
+with a green and vernal crown, yearly springing, of noble and generous
+thoughts, rustling with leaves which shall be for the healing of
+nations.
+
+These men were content with the hard, dry crust for themselves, that
+they might sow seeds of abundant food for us, their children; men out of
+whose hardness in enduring we gain leisure to be soft and graceful,
+through whose poverty we have become rich. Like Moses, they had for
+their portion only the pain and weariness of the wilderness, leaving to
+us the fruition of the promised land. Let us cherish for their sake the
+old oak, beautiful in its age as the broken statue of some antique
+wrestler, brown with time, yet glorious in its suggestion of past
+achievement.
+
+I think all this the more that I have recently come across the following
+passage in one of our religious papers. The writer expresses a kind of
+sentiment which one meets very often upon this subject, and leads one to
+wonder what glamour could have fallen on the minds of any of the
+descendants of the Puritans, that they should cast nettles on those
+honored graves where they should be proud to cast their laurels.
+
+"It is hard," he says, "for a lover of the beautiful--not a mere lover,
+but a believer in its divinity also--to forgive the Puritans, or to
+think charitably of them. It is hard for him to keep Forefathers' Day,
+or to subscribe to the Plymouth Monument; hard to look fairly at what
+they did, with the memory of what they destroyed rising up to choke
+thankfulness; for they were as one-sided and narrow-minded a set of men
+as ever lived, and saw one of Truth's faces only--the hard, stern,
+practical face, without loveliness, without beauty, and only half dear
+to God. The Puritan flew in the face of facts, not because he saw them
+and disliked them, but because he did not see them. He saw foolishness,
+lying, stealing, worldliness--the very mammon of unrighteousness rioting
+in the world and bearing sway--and he ran full tilt against the monster,
+hating it with a very mortal and mundane hatred, and anxious to see it
+bite the dust that his own horn might be exalted. It was in truth only
+another horn of the old dilemma, tossing and goring grace and beauty,
+and all the loveliness of life, as if they were the enemies instead of
+the sure friends of God and man."
+
+Now, to those who say this we must ask the question with which Socrates
+of old pursued the sophist: What _is_ beauty? If beauty be only
+physical, if it appeal only to the senses, if it be only an enchantment
+of graceful forms, sweet sounds, then indeed there might be something of
+truth in this sweeping declaration that the Puritan spirit is the enemy
+of beauty.
+
+The very root and foundation of all artistic inquiry lies here. _What is
+beauty?_ And to this question God forbid that we _Christians_ should
+give a narrower answer than Plato gave in the old times before Christ
+arose, for he directs the aspirant who would discover the beautiful to
+"consider of greater value the beauty existing _in the soul_, than that
+existing in the body." More gracefully he teaches the same doctrine when
+he tells us that "there are two kinds of Venus, (beauty;) the one, the
+elder, who had no mother, and was the daughter of Uranus, (heaven,) whom
+we name the celestial; the other, younger, daughter of Jupiter and
+Dione, whom we call the vulgar."
+
+Now, if disinterestedness, faith, patience, piety, have a beauty
+celestial and divine, then were our fathers worshippers of the
+beautiful. If high-mindedness and spotless honor are beautiful things,
+they had those. What work of art can compare with a lofty and heroic
+life? Is it not better to _be_ a Moses than to be a Michael Angelo
+making statues of Moses? Is not the _life_ of Paul a sublimer work of
+art than Raphael's cartoons? Are not the patience, the faith, the
+undying love of Mary by the cross, more beautiful than all the Madonna
+paintings in the world. If, then, we would speak truly of our fathers,
+we should say that, having their minds fixed on that celestial beauty of
+which Plato speaks, they held in slight esteem that more common and
+earthly.
+
+Should we continue the parable in Plato's manner, we might say that the
+earthly and visible Venus, the outward grace of art and nature, was
+ordained of God as a priestess, through whom men were to gain access to
+the divine, invisible One; but that men, in their blindness, ever
+worship the priestess instead of the divinity.
+
+Therefore it is that great reformers so often must break the shrines and
+temples of the physical and earthly beauty, when they seek to draw men
+upward to that which is high and divine.
+
+Christ says of John the Baptist, "What went ye out for to see? A man
+clothed in soft raiment? Behold they which are clothed in soft raiment
+are in kings' palaces." So was it when our fathers came here. There were
+enough wearing soft raiment and dwelling in kings' palaces. Life in
+papal Rome and prelatic England was weighed down with blossoming luxury.
+There were abundance of people to think of pictures, and statues, and
+gems, and cameos, vases and marbles, and all manner of deliciousness.
+The world was all drunk with the enchantments of the lower Venus, and it
+was needful that these men should come, Baptist-like in the wilderness,
+in raiment of camel's hair. We need such men now. Art, they tell us, is
+waking in America; a love of the beautiful is beginning to unfold its
+wings; but what kind of art, and what kind of beauty? Are we to fill our
+houses with pictures and gems, and to see that even our drinking cup and
+vase is wrought in graceful pattern, and to lose our reverence for
+self-denial, honor, and faith?
+
+Is our Venus to be the frail, insnaring Aphrodite, or the starry, divine
+Urania?
+
+
+
+
+OUR WOOD LOT IN WINTER.
+
+
+Our wood lot! Yes, we have arrived at the dignity of owning a wood lot,
+and for us simple folk there is something invigorating in the thought.
+To OWN even a small spot of our dear old mother earth hath in it a
+relish of something stimulating to human nature. To own a meadow, with
+all its thousand-fold fringes of grasses, its broidery of monthly
+flowers, and its outriders of birds, and bees, and gold-winged
+insects--this is something that establishes one's heart. To own a clover
+patch or a buckwheat field is like possessing a self-moving manufactory
+for perfumes and sweetness; but a wood lot, rustling with dignified old
+trees--it makes a man rise in his own esteem; he might take off his hat
+to himself at the moment of acquisition.
+
+We do not marvel that the land-acquiring passion becomes a mania among
+our farmers, and particularly we do not wonder at a passion for wood
+land. That wide, deep chasm of conscious self-poverty and emptiness
+which lies at the bottom of every human heart, making men crave property
+as something to add to one's own bareness, and to ballast one's own
+specific levity, is sooner filled by land than any thing else.
+
+Your hoary New England farmer walks over his acres with a grim
+satisfaction. He sets his foot down with a hard stamp; _here_ is
+reality. No moonshine bank stock! no swindling railroads! _Here_ is
+_his_ bank, and there is no defaulter here. All is true, solid, and
+satisfactory; he seems anchored to this life by it. So Pope, with fine
+tact, makes the old miser, making his will on his death bed, after
+parting with every thing, die, clinging to the possession of his _land_.
+He disposes with many a groan of this and that house, and this and that
+stock and security; but at last the _manor_ is proposed to him.
+
+          "The manor! hold!" he cried,
+    "Not that; _I cannot part with that!_"--and died!
+
+In such terms we discoursed yesterday, Herr Professor and myself, while
+jogging along in an old-fashioned chaise to inspect a few acres of wood
+lot, the acquisition of which had let us, with great freshness, into
+these reflections.
+
+Does any fair lady shiver at the idea of a drive to the woods on the
+first of February? Let me assure her that in the coldest season Nature
+never wants her ornaments full worth looking at.
+
+See here, for instance--let us stop the old chaise, and get out a minute
+to look at this brook--one of our last summer's pets. What is he doing
+this winter? Let us at least say, "How do you do?" to him. Ah, here he
+is! and he and Jack Frost together have been turning the little gap in
+the old stone wall, through which he leaped down to the road, into a
+little grotto of Antiparos. Some old rough rails and boards that dropped
+over it are sheathed in plates of transparent silver. The trunks of the
+black alders are mailed with crystal; and the witch-hazel, and yellow
+osiers fringing its sedgy borders, are likewise shining through their
+glossy covering. Around every stem that rises from the water is a
+glittering ring of ice. The tags of the alder and the red berries of
+last summer's wild roses glitter now like a lady's pendant. As for the
+brook, he is wide awake and joyful; and where the roof of sheet ice
+breaks away, you can see his yellow-brown waters rattling and gurgling
+among the stones as briskly as they did last July. Down he springs! over
+the glossy-coated stone wall, throwing new sparkles into the fairy
+grotto around him; and widening daily from melting snows, and such other
+godsends, he goes chattering off under yonder mossy stone bridge, and we
+lose sight of him. It might be fancy, but it seemed that our watery
+friend tipped us a cheery wink as he passed, saying, "Fine weather, sir
+and madam; nice times these; and in April you'll find us all right; the
+flowers are making up their finery for the next season; there's to be a
+splendid display in a month or two."
+
+Then the cloud lights of a wintry sky have a clear purity and brilliancy
+that no other months can rival. The rose tints, and the shading of rose
+tint into gold, the flossy, filmy accumulation of illuminated vapor that
+drifts across the sky in a January afternoon, are beauties far exceeding
+those of summer.
+
+Neither are trees, as seen in winter, destitute of their own peculiar
+beauty. If it be a gorgeous study in summer time to watch the play of
+their abundant leafage, we still may thank winter for laying bare before
+us the grand and beautiful anatomy of the tree, with all its interlacing
+network of boughs, knotted on each twig with the buds of next year's
+promise. The fleecy and rosy clouds look all the more beautiful through
+the dark lace veil of yonder magnificent elms; and the down-drooping
+drapery of yonder willow hath its own grace of outline as it sweeps the
+bare snows. And these comical old apple trees, why, in summer they look
+like so many plump, green cushions, one as much like another as
+possible; but under the revealing light of winter every characteristic
+twist and jerk stands disclosed.
+
+One might moralize on this--how affliction, which strips us of all
+ornaments and accessories, and brings us down to the permanent and solid
+wood of our nature, develops such wide differences in people who before
+seemed not much distinct.
+
+But here! our pony's feet are now clinking on the icy path under the
+shadow of the white pines of "our wood lot." The path runs in a deep
+hollow, and on either hand rise slopes dark and sheltered with the
+fragrant white pine. White pines are favorites with us for many good
+reasons. We love their balsamic breath, the long, slender needles of
+their leaves, and, above all, the constant sibylline whisperings that
+never cease among their branches. In summer the ground beneath them is
+paved with a soft and cleanly matting of their last year's leaves; and
+then their talking seems to be of coolness ever dwelling far up in their
+fringy, waving hollows. And now, in winter time, we find the same smooth
+floor; for the heavy curtains above shut out the snow, and the same
+voices above whisper of shelter and quiet. "You are welcome," they say;
+"the north wind is gone to sleep; we are rocking him in our cradles. Sit
+down and be quiet from the cold." At the feet of these slumberous old
+pines we find many of our last summer's friends looking as good as new.
+The small, round-leafed partridgeberry weaves its viny mat, and lays out
+its scarlet fruit; and here are blackberry vines with leaves still
+green, though with a bluish tint, not unlike what invades mortal noses
+in such weather. Here, too, are the bright, varnished leaves of the
+Indian pine, and the vines of feathery green of which our Christmas
+garlands are made; and here, undaunted, though frozen to the very heart
+this cold day, is many another leafy thing which we met last summer
+rejoicing each in its own peculiar flower. What names they have received
+from scientific god-fathers at the botanic fount we know not; we have
+always known them by fairy nicknames of our own--the pet names of
+endearment which lie between Nature's children and us in her domestic
+circle.
+
+There is something peculiarly sweet to us about a certain mystical
+dreaminess and obscurity in these wild wood tribes, which we never wish
+to have brought out into the daylight of absolute knowledge. Every one
+of them was a self-discovered treasure of our childhood, as much our own
+as if God had made it on purpose and presented it; and it was ever a
+part of the joy to think we had found something that no one else knew,
+and so musing on them, we gave them names in our heart.
+
+We search about amid the sere, yellow skeletons of last summer's ferns,
+if haply winter have forgotten one green leaf for our home vase--in vain
+we rake, freezing our fingers through our fur gloves--there is not one.
+An icicle has pierced every heart; and there are no fern leaves except
+those miniature ones which each plant is holding in its heart, to be
+sent up in next summer's hour of joy. But here are mosses--tufts of all
+sorts; the white, crisp and crumbling, fair as winter frostwork; and
+here the feathery green of which French milliners make moss rose buds;
+and here the cup-moss--these we gather with some care, frozen as they
+are to the wintry earth.
+
+Now, stumbling up this ridge, we come to a little patch of hemlocks,
+spreading out their green wings, and making, in the ravine, a deep
+shelter, where many a fresh springing thing is standing, and where we
+gain much for our home vases. These pines are motherly creatures. One
+can think how it must rejoice the heart of a partridge or a rabbit to
+come from the dry, whistling sweep of a deciduous forest under the
+home-like shadow of their branches. "As for the stork, the fir trees are
+her house," says the Hebrew poet; and our fir trees, this winter, give
+shelter to much small game. Often, on the light-fallen snow, I meet
+their little footprints. They have a naive, helpless, innocent
+appearance, these little tracks, that softens my heart like a child's
+footprint. Not one of them is forgotten of our Father; and therefore I
+remember them kindly.
+
+And now, with cold toes and fingers, and arms full of leafy treasures,
+we plod our way back to the chaise. A pleasant song is in my ears from
+this old wood lot--it speaks of green and cheerful patience in life's
+hard weather. Not a scowling, sullen endurance, not a despairing,
+hand-dropping resignation, but a heart cheerfulness that holds on to
+every leaf, and twig, and flower, and bravely smiles and keeps green
+when frozen to the very heart, knowing that the winter is but for a
+season, and that the sunshine and bird singings shall return, and the
+last year's dry flower stalk give place to the risen, glorified flower.
+
+
+
+
+POEMS.
+
+THE CHARMER.
+
+
+     "_Socrates._--'However, you and Simmias appear to me as if you
+     wished to sift this subject more thoroughly, and to be afraid, like
+     children, lest, on the soul's departure from the body, winds should
+     blow it away.'
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     "Upon this Cebes said, 'Endeavor to teach us better, Socrates. * *
+     * Perhaps there is a childish spirit in our breast, that has such a
+     dread. Let us endeavor to persuade him not to be afraid of death,
+     as of hobgoblins.'
+
+     "'But you must _charm_ him every day,' said Socrates, 'until you
+     have quieted his fears.'
+
+     "'But whence, O Socrates,' he said, 'can we procure a skilful
+     charmer for such a case, now you are about to leave us.'
+
+     "'Greece is wide, Cebes,' he replied: 'and in it surely there are
+     skilful men, and there are also many barbarous nations, all of
+     which you should search, seeking such a charmer, sparing neither
+     money nor toil, as there is nothing on which you can more
+     reasonably spend your money.'"--(_Last conversation of Socrates
+     with his disciples, as narrated by Plato in the Phaedo._)
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "We need that Charmer, for our hearts are sore
+      With longings for the things that may not be;
+    Faint for the friends that shall return no more;
+      Dark with distrust, or wrung with agony.
+
+    "What is this life? and what to us is death?
+      Whence came we? whither go? and where are those
+    Who, in a moment stricken from our side,
+      Passed to that land of shadow and repose?
+
+    "And are they all dust? and dust must we become?
+      Or are they living in some unknown clime?
+    Shall we regain them in that far-off home,
+      And live anew beyond the waves of time?
+
+    "O man divine! on thee our souls have hung;
+      Thou wert our teacher in these questions high;
+    But, ah, this day divides thee from our side,
+      And veils in dust thy kindly-guiding eye.
+
+    "Where is that Charmer whom thou bidst us seek?
+      On what far shores may his sweet voice be heard?
+    When shall these questions of our yearning souls
+      Be answered by the bright Eternal Word?"
+
+    So spake the youth of Athens, weeping round,
+      When Socrates lay calmly down to die;
+    So spake the sage, prophetic of the hour
+      When earth's fair morning star should rise on high.
+
+    They found Him not, those youths of soul divine,
+      Long seeking, wandering, watching on life's shore--
+    Reasoning, aspiring, yearning for the light,
+      Death came and found them--doubting as before.
+
+    But years passed on; and lo! the Charmer came--
+      Pure, simple, sweet, as comes the silver dew;
+    And the world knew him not--he walked alone,
+      Encircled only by his trusting few.
+
+    Like the Athenian sage rejected, scorned,
+      Betrayed, condemned, his day of doom drew nigh;
+    He drew his faithful few more closely round,
+      And told them that _his_ hour was come to die.
+
+    "Let not your heart be troubled," then he said;
+      "My Father's house hath mansions large and fair;
+    I go before you to prepare your place;
+      I will return to take you with me there."
+
+    And since that hour the awful foe is charmed,
+      And life and death are glorified and fair.
+    Whither he went we know--the way we know--
+      And with firm step press on to meet him there.
+
+
+
+
+PILGRIM'S SONG IN THE DESERT.
+
+
+    'Tis morning now--upon the eastern hills
+      Once more the sun lights up this cheerless scene;
+    But O, no morning in my Father's house
+      Is dawning now, for there no night hath been.
+
+    Ten thousand thousand now, on Zion's hills,
+      All robed in white, with palmy crowns, do stray,
+    While I, an exile, far from fatherland,
+      Still wandering, faint along the desert way.
+
+    O home! dear home! my own, my native home!
+      O Father, friends, when shall I look on you?
+    When shall these weary wanderings be o'er,
+      And I be gathered back to stray no more?
+
+    O thou, the brightness of whose gracious face
+      These weary, longing eyes have never seen,--
+    By whose dear thought, for whose beloved sake,
+      My course, through toil and tears, I daily take,--
+
+    I think of thee when the myrrh-dropping morn
+      Steps forth upon the purple eastern steep;
+    I think of thee in the fair eventide,
+      When the bright-sandalled stars their watches keep.
+
+    And trembling hope, and fainting, sorrowing love,
+      On thy dear word for comfort doth rely;
+    And clear-eyed Faith, with strong forereaching gaze,
+      Beholds thee here, unseen, but ever nigh.
+
+    Walking in white with thee, she dimly sees,
+      All beautiful, these lovely ones withdrawn,
+    With whom my heart went upward, as they rose,
+      Like morning stars, to light a coming dawn.
+
+    All sinless now, and crowned, and glorified,
+      Where'er thou movest move they still with thee,
+    As erst, in sweet communion by thy side,
+      Walked John and Mary in old Galilee.
+
+    But hush, my heart! 'Tis but a day or two
+      Divides thee from that bright, immortal shore.
+    Rise up! rise up! and gird thee for the race!
+      Fast fly the hours, and all will soon be o'er.
+
+    Thou hast the new name written in thy soul;
+      Thou hast the mystic stone he gives his own.
+    Thy soul, made one with him, shall feel no more
+      That she is walking on her path alone.
+
+
+
+
+MARY AT THE CROSS.
+
+
+     "Now there stood by the cross of Jesus his mother."
+
+
+    O wondrous mother! Since the dawn of time
+    Was ever joy, was ever grief like thine?
+    O, highly favored in thy joy's deep flow,
+    And favored e'en in this, thy bitterest woe!
+
+    Poor was that home in simple Nazareth,
+      Where thou, fair growing, like some silent flower,
+    Last of a kingly line,--unknown and lowly,
+      O desert lily,--passed thy childhood's hour.
+
+    The world knew not the tender, serious maiden,
+      Who, through deep loving years so silent grew,
+    Filled with high thoughts and holy aspirations,
+      Which, save thy Father, God's, no eye might view.
+
+    And then it came, that message from the Highest,
+      Such as to woman ne'er before descended;
+    Th' almighty shadowing wings thy soul o'erspread,
+      And with thy life the Life of worlds was blended.
+
+    What visions, then, of future glory filled thee,
+      Mother of King and kingdom yet unknown--
+    Mother, fulfiller of all prophecy,
+      Which through dim ages wondering seers had shown!
+
+    Well did thy dark eye kindle, thy deep soul
+      Rise into billows, and thy heart rejoice;
+    Then woke the poet's fire, the prophet's song
+      Tuned with strange, burning words thy timid voice.
+
+    Then in dark contrast came the lowly manger,
+     The outcast shed, the tramp of brutal feet;
+    Again, behold earth's learned, and her lowly,
+      Sages and shepherds, prostrate at thy feet.
+
+    Then to the temple bearing, hark! again
+      What strange, conflicting tones of prophecy
+    Breathe o'er the Child, foreshadowing words of joy,
+      High triumph, and yet bitter agony.
+
+    O, highly favored thou, in many an hour
+      Spent in lone musing with thy wondrous Son,
+    When thou didst gaze into that glorious eye,
+      And hold that mighty hand within thy own.
+
+    Blessed through those thirty years, when in thy dwelling
+      He lived a God disguised, with unknown power,
+    And thou, his sole adorer,--his best love,--
+      Trusting, revering, waitedst for his hour.
+
+    Blessed in that hour, when called by opening heaven
+      With cloud, and voice, and the baptizing flame,
+    Up from the Jordan walked th' acknowledged stranger,
+      And awe-struck crowds grew silent as he came.
+
+    Blessed, when full of grace, with glory crowned,
+      He from both hands almighty favors poured,
+    And, though he had not where to lay his head,
+      Brought to his feet alike the slave and lord.
+
+    Crowds followed; thousands shouted, "Lo, our King!"
+      Fast beat thy heart; now, now the hour draws nigh:
+    Behold the crown--the throne! the nations bend.
+      Ah, no! fond mother, no! behold him die.
+
+    Now by that cross thou tak'st thy final station,
+      And shar'st the last dark trial of thy Son;
+    Not with weak tears or woman's lamentation,
+      But with high, silent anguish, like his own.
+
+    Hail, highly favored, even in this deep passion,
+      Hail, in this bitter anguish--thou art blest--
+    Blest in the holy power with him to suffer
+      Those deep death pangs that lead to higher rest.
+
+    All now is darkness; and in that deep stillness
+      The God-man wrestles with that mighty woe;
+    Hark to that cry, the rock of ages rending--
+      "'Tis finished!" Mother, all is glory now!
+
+    By sufferings mighty as his mighty soul
+      Hath the Jehovah risen--forever blest;
+    And through all ages must his heart-beloved
+      Through the same baptism enter the same rest.
+
+
+
+
+CHRISTIAN PEACE.
+
+
+     "Thou shalt hide them in the secret of thy presence from the pride
+     of man; thou shalt keep them secretly as in a pavilion from the
+     strife of tongues."
+
+
+    When winds are raging o'er the upper ocean,
+      And billows wild contend with angry roar,
+    'Tis said, far down beneath the wild commotion,
+      That peaceful _stillness_ reigneth evermore.
+
+    Far, far beneath, the noise of tempest dieth,
+      And silver waves chime ever peacefully,
+    And no rude storm, how fierce soe'er he flieth,
+      Disturbs the Sabbath of that deeper sea.
+
+    So to the heart that knows thy love, O Purest,
+      There is a temple, sacred evermore,
+    And all the babble of life's angry voices
+      Die in hushed stillness at its peaceful door.
+
+    Far, far away, the roar of passion dieth,
+      And loving thoughts rise calm and peacefully,
+    And no rude storm, how fierce soe'er he flieth,
+      Disturbs the soul that dwells, O Lord, in thee.
+
+    O, rest of rests! O, peace serene, eternal!
+      THOU ever livest; and thou changest never;
+    And in the _secret of thy presence_ dwelleth
+      Fulness of joy--forever and forever.
+
+
+
+
+ABIDE IN ME AND I IN YOU.
+
+THE SOUL'S ANSWER.
+
+
+    That mystic word of thine, O sovereign Lord,
+      Is all too pure, too high, too deep for me;
+    Weary of striving, and with longing faint,
+      I breathe it back again in _prayer_ to thee.
+
+    Abide in me, I pray, and I in thee;
+      From this good hour, O, leave me nevermore;
+    Then shall the discord cease, the wound be healed,
+      The lifelong bleeding of the soul be o'er.
+
+    Abide in me--o'ershadow by thy love
+      Each half-formed purpose and dark thought of sin;
+    Quench, e'er it rise, each selfish, low desire,
+      And keep my soul as thine, calm and divine.
+
+    As some rare perfume in a vase of clay
+      Pervades it with a fragrance not its own,
+    So, when thou dwellest in a mortal soul,
+      All heaven's own sweetness seems around it thrown.
+
+    The soul alone, like a neglected harp,
+      Grows out of tune, and needs a hand divine;
+    Dwell thou within it, tune, and touch the chords,
+      Till every note and string shall answer thine.
+
+    _Abide in me_; there have been moments pure
+      When I have seen thy face and felt thy power;
+    Then evil lost its grasp, and passion, hushed,
+      Owned the divine enchantment of the hour.
+
+    These were but seasons beautiful and rare;
+      "Abide in me,"--and they shall _ever be_;
+    Fulfil at once thy precept and my prayer--
+      _Come_ and _abide_ in me, and I in thee.
+
+
+
+
+WHEN I AWAKE I AM STILL WITH THEE.
+
+
+    Still, still with thee, when purple morning breaketh,
+      When the bird waketh and the shadows flee;
+    Fairer than morning, lovelier than the daylight,
+      Dawns the sweet consciousness, _I am with thee_!
+
+    Alone with thee, amid the mystic shadows,
+      The solemn hush of nature newly born;
+    Alone with thee in breathless adoration,
+      In the calm dew and freshness of the morn.
+
+    As in the dawning o'er the waveless ocean
+      The image of the morning star doth rest,
+    So in this stillness thou beholdest only
+      Thine image in the waters of my breast.
+
+    Still, still with thee! as to each new-born morning
+      A fresh and solemn splendor still is given,
+    So doth this blessed consciousness, awaking,
+      Breathe, each day, nearness unto thee and heaven.
+
+    When sinks the soul, subdued by toil, to slumber,
+      Its closing eye looks up to thee in prayer,
+    Sweet the repose beneath thy wings o'ershading,
+      But sweeter still to wake and find thee there.
+
+    So shall it be at last, in that bright morning
+      When the soul waketh and life's shadows flee;
+    O, in that hour, fairer than daylight dawning,
+      Shall rise the glorious thought, _I am with thee_!
+
+
+
+
+CHRIST'S VOICE IN THE SOUL.
+
+
+     "Come ye yourselves into a desert place and rest a while; for there
+     were many coming and going, so that they had no time so much as to
+     eat."
+
+
+    'Mid the mad whirl of life, its dim confusion,
+      Its jarring discords and poor vanity,
+    Breathing like music over troubled waters,
+      What gentle voice, O Christian, speaks to thee?
+
+    It is a stranger--not of earth or earthly;
+      By the serene, deep fulness of that eye,--
+    By the calm, pitying smile, the gesture lowly,--
+      It is thy Savior as he passeth by.
+
+    "Come, come," he saith, "into a desert place,
+      Thou who art weary of life's lower sphere;
+    Leave its low strifes, forget its babbling noise;
+      Come thou with me--all shall be bright and clear.
+
+    "Art thou bewildered by contesting voices,
+      Sick to thy soul of party noise and strife?
+    Come, leave it all, and seek that solitude
+      Where thou shalt learn of me a purer life.
+
+    "When far behind the world's great tumult dieth,
+      Thou shalt look back and wonder at its roar;
+    But its far voice shall seem to thee a dream,
+      Its power to vex thy holier life be o'er.
+
+    "There shalt thou learn the secret of a power,
+      Mine to bestow, which heals the ills of living;
+    To overcome by love, to live by prayer,
+      To conquer man's worst evils by forgiving."
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The May Flower, and Miscellaneous
+Writings, by Harriet Beecher Stowe
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