as asking a blessing upon what she did; and then she reproaches herself, and says she deserved this, and more; not in the way of complaining, you would never hear her do that; and if she does but hint at her husband's fault, she takes care to tell of his kindness too, and says that, though his sins look more than her own, they are not half so great, or so many. And though he grows worse and worse, and what with wanting money, and drowning his right senses, his temper is not what it used to be, still she never tires of trying to please him, but keeps the house neat, and makes every meal ready as if he were here, even while she believes in her heart he will not come; yet she says, he shall not find any difference if he does. And now she'll come, and get out the tea and please herself with thinking how comfortable everything is for him, and she'll wait, and wait, and scarcely eat a morsel herself, and look so sick and faint, that my heart aches to see her. Oh! if we had no consolation beyond ourselves, I think we should both die before the end of another day! But we are not, I hope we are not, without some hold of better things. We pray diligently, and sometimes our prayers are blest to us, and we rise up, if not in the expectation that they will be answered in the way we wish, yet in perfect trust that we shall be wisely and mercifully dealt with, and that the very burden of which we are complaining, is exactly the trial we are most in need of. Sometimes we feel this in such a lively manner, that it almost grows into gladness; and we look on beyond this little spot of earth, this little speck of time, and are satisfied that we know not what is best for us, and then we speak to each other words of cheering, and read our Bible, and see how the Lord led his people through the wilderness. this. Perhaps you have been brought to it by an easier way. I have no right to ask questions of you, but there is something in your face which tells me that all is not sweetness of which you have to drink. Whatever your trials may be, I think they cannot well be greater than my poor daughter's. Remember, when you go home, that there is consolation even for these; and, so saying, she bid me good day, for I had already risen to depart. On returning home after this scene, I was much struck by a sense of my own deficiency in all that I had found here exemplified; in patient submission, in watchfulness, and confiding trust, in short, in the three Christian graces, faith, hope and charity. And yet I had dared to think my portion hard. And so unquestionably it was to me; but I had chosen my own lot; I had taken up my own burden, I had filled my own cup with bitterness; and since to my natural feelings that lot was most wretched, that burden most grevious to be borne, and that cup most unpalatable; there was urgent need for me to look beyond my present blighted and gloomy prospects, to that region of blessedness, where there is neither blight nor gloom. "But what," exclaimed I, giving way to my cheerless meditations, "what is there in this wide world for me! This poor woman doats upon her husband with all the enthusiasm of youth, and the very love which tortures her heart, at the same time keeps it from the stagnation of despair." In the midst of my gloomy reflections I was startled by the sound of carriage wheels at the door, and looking out, I saw my husband, extremely pale, dressed in a loose gown and supported, or rather carried into the house by a medical gentleman who lived near us. He had gone out that day with the intenOh! my dear lady, miserable as we may tion of compelling a young horse to take a appear to you, we would not exchange these desperate leap, and the consequences were seasons of blessed confidence for all that a such as might have been anticipated. The wealthier or seemingly happier station could beast was obstinate, the man furious; at last afford. after a dreadful conflict, both horse and rider Perhaps you have never been brought to had rolled together down a steep bank, and, had not a poor man been passing at the time, in all probability my husband would have been unable to extricate himself. He had paid dearly for his exploit by many severe contusions, but he had a good-natured way of making the best of that which was undeniably bad, and he now looked cheerful, and affected to be much less hurt than he really was. There is nothing wins upon our kindness more than suffering patiently endured; and when my husband saw my real concern, and my willingness to serve and assist him, his joy and gratitude were beyond bounds. "Be always thus," said he, "and you may make of me what you please." "Be always ill," thought I, "and it will be no effort to me to do my duty." It is peculiar to weak and flippant characters to imagine that every new impression they receive will be deep, and lasting, and influential upon their future conduct. The surface of their animal existence is so often and so easily stirred, that they have no time to ascertain what lies beneath, and thus are incapable of reasoning from analogy, of judging rationally of their own feelings or motives, and of drawing conclusions from the force of established habit, the power of association, and the impossibility of acting rightly merely from occasional efforts of the natural will. Any one who had but slightly studied human nature, would have thought my husband, during his confinement to a quiet chamber, in a state of mind which promised great amendment of life. Even I was fain to build upon the earnestness of his promises, made in the warmth of awakened feeling; and thus the moments we spent together while he was ill and helpless, were amongst the happiest of my life; for I had then an object in view, towards the attainment of which I seemed to be making some progress. Nor was it an unpleasing task, to reason with one who now was glad to listen; to plead with one who heard me in a subdued and gentle spirit. But my hour of trial was not yet come, and often after this I was compelled to return to the cottage of the poor woman, to take a fresh lesson for my own private walk, to gather fresh strength for the performance of my own duties. It was with deep and heartfelt regret I observed in my repeated visits, that disease was making rapid progress in the once healthy frame of the young woman. The kind of melancholy which I endured, and which I fancied so intolerable, made no inroads upon my constitution; but hers was a torture of the heart, a strife between love and sorrow, which no human constitution can long sustain. Often, as I had entered the cottage, I had never yet found the wandering husband at home; until one evening, when nature was again assuming the freshness of spring, I was surprised to see the figure of a man seated beside the poor invalid. At first I hesitated, but Jenny's voice called me in with such a gladsome tone, that I could not turn away without once witnessing her joy. "He is here!" she whispered to me as I stood beside her. "He is here!" she repeated, with a look of happiness that I never can forget. Ronald was indeed a fine looking man, whose strongly marked countenance indicated a strong character. At first I thought him handsome; but when he spoke there was a thirsty kind of irregularity about his features, which had no doubt been brought on by his dreadfully debasing habits. Jenny, however, seemed to be unconscious that he exhibited any other aspect than that of perfect beauty; for she leaned with her thin white hand upon his arm, and looked up into his face, as if she read there all that was written in her book of life. This little act of kindness on his part (his merely staying with her one evening when her mother was absent,) was worth, in her estimation, all that the world could offer of riches, rank, or splendour; and her gentle eyes were lighted up with something of the brilliancy they had worn in former days, and her hollow cheek was tinged with a fe verish hue of crimson beauty. Oh! how different from the rich glow that had once distinguished her as the pride of village maidens ! It was with difficulty I persuaded Ronald to keep his place at the fire, when I sat down beside them. He would gladly have gone away, like one who feels that much charity is needed to tolerate his presence; but Jenny and I both did our best to detain him, and when she asked me to read to them a chapter in the Bible, saying she was sure that Ronald would like to hear me read, he felt compelled in common civility to remain. Half afraid of venturing too far in the presence of one with whose character I was in a great measure unacquainted, I chose the parable of the Prodigal Son, and my heart melted as I went through those touching passages which describe the return of the penitent. and though I could not say (for I did not believe) that even his altered life would now save her, yet I urged upon him many times before we separated, the satisfaction he would afterwards feel in having cheered her last moments, and watched her gentle spirit depart in peace. It was wonderful to me, that after the exertions I had been able to make with those whose feelings and habits were comparatively strange to me, I should find any difficulty in performing the same duties at home: but so it was. Ronald was a man of strong and deep character, with whom the words that fell unanswered upon his ear were often graven on his heart; nor was it from carelessness about the ruin which his habits brought upon his family, that he had so long persisted in the evil of his ways. So far from this, the very anguish of his self upbraidings sometimes drove him away from home, and in this manner his desperation On looking up I saw that Jenny had cov-served to increase its own violence. ered her face with her handkerchief, while with the other hand trembling like an aspen leaf, she still grasped the arm of her husband, who bent down his head over a rosy child, seated on his knee, and stroked its glossy ringlets, tied and untied the strings of its frock, and pressed its cheek to his breast, as if glad to do any thing that might relieve him from the misery of sitting quietly beneath the scrutiny of searching eyes. "Is there any thing," thought I, "that a stranger's voice may say to add weight to that of conscience?" and I offered up an inward prayer that my humble endeavours might not be made in vain. I know not how it was, but I found strength and power on that occasion to utter words that sounded daring to a strong man, and a stranger; but he bore them well and when I took my leave, even offered to attend me home, as darkness was fast coming on. I accepted his offer, and we talked by the way of the hope there was in store for the penitent; of the efficacy of prayer; and of the mercy that fails not even in the latest hour. And then, last of all, we talked about poor Jenny; The case with my husband was essentially different. His was a mere animal propensity-over which a variable and volatile spirit had little power. It was not to drown the anguish of a tortured mind that he swallowed the fatal draught, but solely for the sake of the excitement and the love of what he called "good company." In his often-repeated fits of penitence there was no want of sincerity for the time; but nothing could give constancy and firmness to his resolutions. Thus, on recovering from the long confinement to which his accident had subjected him, he rushed again into the world with fresh interest, and sat down to the jovial board, determined to drink but little! Still there was a radical change in my feelings towards him, and the views which I entertained of his character no longer plunged me into moodiness and despair. During his illness I had reaped the blessed fruits of continued exertion for another's good; and though I could not be said to love him beyond the common kindness we feel for those who share our lot in life, I had learned to look charitably even upon him. When I endeavoured calmly to weigh and estimate his character, thousands of instances occurred to my recollection in which I might have acted a more Christian part towards him, and with these considerations came fresh pity and forgiveness for his faults. so that it spare my summer bower! And 1, who know the strength of these feelings, not from their anguish, but their blessedness, preach to you, it may seem, in mockery of that which I have never experienced, but still with a heart that bleeds for your calam "But what?” said I, one day, to Mr. Or-ity; and still with boldness; for I know that morand, when we had been speaking with the events of this transitory life are not as they appear to our contracted vision; that there is the working of a mighty and mysterious Power around and above us, striking out waters from the barren rock; upon which we have lain prostrate in our despair, bringing forth flowers and fruits in the wilderness, where we have stretched our wearied limbs to die; and raising up joy and beauty from the ashes of our ruined hopes! often be blessed yourself. "My dear friend," replied Mr. Ormorand, "you must do your best: I never heard that we were commanded to save each other. Happy is it for us that the salvation of our own souls is all that is strictly required of us. But remember that, in order to make sure of this great object, it is necessary that we watch over each other for good; that we do not 'darken counsel' by calculating too much "Let us look, my friend, away from this upon the end, but persevere faithfully and one point of misery, and number the blessdiligently in rendering our appointed service. ings that are beyond. Have you not the Your endeavours to save your husband from means of assisting and cherishing the poor? disgrace and ruin may not be attended with Employ yourself diligently in the service of the reward you desire; but are there not others, and your home-at least your heartother rewards in the hand of Omnipotence, will no longer be desolate. Not administerfar, far beyond what your most earnest en- ing outward comforts merely, but conveying deavours can deserve? Is there not that instruction to the ignorant; and thus, while peace of mind which passeth all understand-bearing a blessing to the needy, you will ing' never denied to the humble and persevering suppliant? Are there not the promises of the gospel to support the pilgrim on his way? Is there not the unbounded ocean of everlasting mercy, into which the tears of our weak nature may flow? Oh! do not despair, even though the desire of your eyes should be denied! You know that in this world is not our rest, and that none can drink of the cup of life without tasting its unpalatable dregs. Yours may be all centred in one drop of inexpressible bitterness! But is not the rest more sweet than falls to the lot of many? I know what you will answer me: you will say, 'let the axe fall anywhere but here. Let my outward portion be one of poverty and suffering, but leave me a home where my spirit may dwell in peace. Let the blight come in the tempest, so that my fireside comforts remain unscathed. Let the lightning strike my bark upon the ocean, "I recommend these pursuits especially to you, because I believe them to be amongst the means afforded by Divine Providence for beguiling the mind from melancholy and fruitless brooding over its own secret and selfish sorrows. Beyond these are those spiritual helps, which I need not point out to you, but which I pray fervently may prove the unfailing support of your soul." It was not long after this conversation took place that I was summoned to attend the last moments of poor Jenny; and here, if I had doubted the efficacy of that faith, which my worthy friend had so earnestly recommended to me, I should have seen a lively and strik- | ing instance of its power to support the feeble spirit. The exhausted sufferer was still able to speak; and, as if aware that time with her was short, she laid her hand upon my arm. as I stood beside her, and looking implor-worth all to gain the prize!" and, so saying, ingly in my face, entreated me, in the simple her gentle soul departed. language of her heart, to put my trust solely and entirely in Him, who knows what is best for his frail creatures; "for," continued she, in a cheerful and animated tone, "it is this that has supported me; it is this that will support you." The aged mother sat by the bed, with more of peace in her countenance than I had seen there before; and Ronald, poor Ronald, now smitten to his inmost soul, covered his face with both his hands, and sobbed aloud, in the bitterness of unspeakable anguish; sometimes, as he was able to raise up his head, catching Jenny's eye turned towards him with such looks of tenderness and love, that the fountains of his tears burst forth again, and he wept like a child, without concealment or shame. "Oh! may those tears be blessed!" said the dying woman. "Think not of me, Ronald, when I am gone. I was but like a flower in your path, love, that withered at noon-day. But think of the flowers of paradise, and the burden that must be borne, and the battle that must be fought, before we can enter where they bloom for ever. Keep on, keep on, the strife will soon be over; it is From this time Ronald was an altered man; not but that he had sometimes hard conflicts before he could compel himself patiently to endure the gnawing worm of selfreproach; but what with the vigilant care of a Christian mother, and the winning helplessness of his poor children, and, above all, with that mercy, whose unfailing fountains refresh the soul of the penitent, he was enabled to keep on a steady course, without any after breach of regularity of life or conduct. Not so, my poor husband. I have now watched over him for years. I have seen him dismissed from his high station, and returned thanks that he was no longer permitted to disgrace the ministry of the church. I have descended with him into the most private and secluded walk of life; and though I have found in that walk much to reconcile its roughness, and smooth down its thorns, I still lift up my voice from a weary and wounded spirit, (and oh! that I could speak more powerfully) to warn the trifling, the thoughtless, and the rash, from that most lamentable of all calamities-most irreparable of all misfortunes-"an ill-assorted marriage." |