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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/31390-8.txt b/31390-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ea32be8 --- /dev/null +++ b/31390-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,14423 @@ +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.) + + + + + + + + + + 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 + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAY FLOWER *** + +***** This file should be named 31390-8.txt or 31390-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/3/9/31390/ + +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.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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—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.—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.—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.—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.—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.—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.—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.—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—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 <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—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 +<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—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—I guess—I'll go, on the <i>hull</i>—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,—</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.—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—Grace—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—there's no sort of use on't—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—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—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—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—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—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—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,—</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—a kind of breeding not always attendant on more +fashionable polish—so he only answered,—</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,—</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——"</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"—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"—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—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,—</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—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.</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—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!</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—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—an upright, shrewd +man—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—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—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—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——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,—</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—it's my father—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—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,—</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,—</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—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——" 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"—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—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——"</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—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—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.</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—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—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.</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,—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,—</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—was—<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—I +hope it will do <i>them</i> 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.</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—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!"</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—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—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,—"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."</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—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."</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—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—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,—</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—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—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—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—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—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 <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—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,—</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,—</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—it is Uncle Jaw."</p> + +<p>"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.</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——"</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—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—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:—</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,—</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—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—that is—I don't know—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—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—I don't want to talk about it."</p> + +<p>"Well, Susan, you ain't a bit like me," said Silence—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,—</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>—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——"</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—no, indeed," said Susan, earnestly; "you know it is not that; +but if your father objects to me——"</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—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 <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,—</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,—</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"—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."</p> + +<p>Uncle Jaw looked fixedly on the old deacon, and said,—</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—that's all; so, if Joe has +no objections, and I rather guess he won't have——"</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—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—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—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—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,—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."</p> + +<p>"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."</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>—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—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.</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—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—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."</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—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—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 —— 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—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—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—<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—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—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—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—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!"</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—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."</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—to get you to sleep.</p> + +<p>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, <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—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."</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—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.</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—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 <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—and there are some persons who can +make the word <i>live</i> 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.</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—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—it sparkles from her eye—it +dimples in her smile, and pervades the whole woman.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"It is all in vain to deny it, Alice—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—<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—<i>you</i> love +it—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—has a—a +general love for admiration. I am willing to acknowledge that <i>I</i> have; +but——"</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,—</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——"</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——"</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——" 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—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.</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—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—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>—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—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——" 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—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—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—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:—</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—<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,—</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—<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—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,—</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,—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."</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—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."</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"—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—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—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—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—never! But, O Edward, Edward, what has beguiled you?"</p> + +<p>"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.</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—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—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:—</p> + +<p>"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; <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—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.</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—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—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 <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—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.</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—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,—</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—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—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—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—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—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—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 <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—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——" 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—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—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."</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—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."</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—"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."</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—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?"</p> + +<p>"Just what hindered the rich man in hell—'<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—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—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—I am +saved—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,—</p> + +<p>"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."</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—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—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—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:—</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.—</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,—</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——"</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—and he <i>is</i> my cousin."</p> + +<p>"No, child, you are mistaken; for you remember his grandfather was——"</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,—</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:—</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—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:—</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—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 <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——" 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,—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.</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,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"——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—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—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.</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—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,—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—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."</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—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—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—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!—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:—</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—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.</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—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.</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—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 <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—<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—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, <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—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.</p> + +<p>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.</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:—</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—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."</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——"</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—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?"</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—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."</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—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.</p> + +<p>"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."</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—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—<i>very precious</i>—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."</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—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—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—<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—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"?</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—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,—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."</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,—</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,—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.</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—conversation whose +first object is to amuse—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—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."</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—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."</p> + +<p>"Yet people often speak of gayety as inconsistent in Christians—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—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."</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—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—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.'"</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,—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."</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—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—a person habitually worldly in his +spirit—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—'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—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.</p> + +<p>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!—<i>that</i> forms, we suppose, no part of the +pretensions of a man of letters. The Bible—certainly he considered it a +very <i>respectable</i> 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 <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—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.</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—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—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—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—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—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—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."</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—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,—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,—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—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 ——, 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—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—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 —— 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—"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—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—<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"—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."</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—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."</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—"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—<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—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?"</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—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—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.</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—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—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—<i>study</i> 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.</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—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.</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—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—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—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—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.</p> + +<p>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.</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—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—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.</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—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—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—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.</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—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,—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 <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—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.</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!—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,—</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—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—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!</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?—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—there +was no use in trying!—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—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.</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—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.</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—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."</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—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—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—what shall I say?—execrations?—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—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.</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—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, <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—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—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—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—nobody loves him—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—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—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.</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—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—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—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.</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——"</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—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,—</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!"—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—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—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'—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'"—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.</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—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.</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:—</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—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.'" "<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—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.</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—what upon <i>airth</i>!—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?"</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—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—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—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—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——"</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?—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—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.</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—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?—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—four comforters—two +quilts—the best chamber has got——"</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;—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,—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.</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—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—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,—</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—"my husband and my children!"</p> + + +<h3>II. THE ALTAR OF ——, OR 1850.</h3> + +<p>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.</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!—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.</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—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!"</p> + +<p>"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.</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—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—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—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 <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—you are a better reader than your +father—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—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.</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—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—for +life?—no; but for the life of life—for liberty!</p> + +<p>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!</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—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 <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—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 —— 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?—'tis so neat, and +handy, and convenient!"</p> + +<p>"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."</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—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>"—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,—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.</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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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?—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,—the boys are members of the +temperance society,—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—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——"</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.—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.</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—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—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?—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!"</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—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!—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——"</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—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—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—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—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—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?"</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—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—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—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——"</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—so they be of the right +kind—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—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—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—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—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 ——, 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—"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?"</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—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—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—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,—</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—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—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>—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.</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—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—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?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, there is a quiet little blue-eyed lady, who never has a word to +say for herself—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,—"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—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—that you ever should—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—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—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—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—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>—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—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—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 <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—felt to be but +begun—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—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."</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—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?"</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—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—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.</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—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 <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,—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.</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,—</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—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—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>—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.</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—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—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,—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.</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—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.</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—the +air-tight—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—"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.</p> + +<p>"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?"</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—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 <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?—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—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."</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—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.</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—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.</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—"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,—</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—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.</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,—</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—a New 'Ear's pes——"</p> + +<p>"Ally, Ally," resounds from several voices, "don't you tell."</p> + +<p>"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."</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—somefin worked."</p> + +<p>"Ally, be careful," said Emma.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'll be very tareful; it's somefin—<i>weall</i> pretty—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"—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—a shadow from the +grave; and it fell on the flower of the garden—the star—the singing +bird—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—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—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—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.</p> + +<p>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.</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—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."</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—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.</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>"—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—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."</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—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—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—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.</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—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>—'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.'"—(<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—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reasoning, aspiring, yearning for the light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Death came and found them—doubting as before.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But years passed on; and lo! the Charmer came—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pure, simple, sweet, as comes the silver dew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the world knew him not—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—the way we know—<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—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,—<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,—<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,—unknown and lowly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O desert lily,—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—<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,—his best love,—<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—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—thou art blest—<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—<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—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—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—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,"—and they shall <i>ever be</i>;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fulfil at once thy precept and my prayer—<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—not of earth or earthly;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the serene, deep fulness of that eye,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the calm, pitying smile, the gesture lowly,—<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—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 + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAY FLOWER *** + +***** This file should be named 31390-h.htm or 31390-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/3/9/31390/ + +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.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/31390-h/images/front.jpg b/31390-h/images/front.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..cfff085 --- /dev/null +++ b/31390-h/images/front.jpg diff --git a/31390.txt b/31390.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ce9e0e8 --- /dev/null +++ b/31390.txt @@ -0,0 +1,14423 @@ +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 + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAY FLOWER *** + +***** This file should be named 31390.txt or 31390.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/3/9/31390/ + +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.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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