THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES


 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS; 
 
 OR, 
 
 PHASES OF EYERY-DAY LIFE 
 
 BY 
 
 EMMA WELLMONT, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "UNCLE SAM'S PALACE," "HOUSE-KEEPING AND 
 KEEPING HOUSE," ETC. ETC. ETC. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY JOHN P. JEWETT & COMPANY. 
 
 CLEVELAND, OHIO: 
 
 JEWETT, PROCTOR & WORTHINGTON. 
 
 1854.
 
 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1854, by 
 
 JOHN P. JEWETT & CO., 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 
 
 Stereotyped by 
 HOI! ART t ROBBINS, 
 
 New EuglMcd Tjpe ud Storoutjpe FouuUr/
 
 PS 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 PERFECTION IN LIVING, 9 
 
 SUDDENLY RICH, 13 
 
 THE BEST ROOMS, 21 
 
 FANCY WORK, 24 
 
 CHASING THE RAINBOW, 30 
 
 TIMIDITY, 33 
 
 THE HOLIDAY WALK, 35 
 
 THE HYDROPATHIST, 38 
 
 THE WIFE ON THE HOMESTEAD, 40 
 
 A CHAPTER ON CORNS, 43 
 
 PLEASURE-SEEKING, 46 
 
 AN AGREEABLE COMPANION, 61 
 
 MONEY, 63 
 
 COMING EVENTS, 66 
 
 MONDAY MORNING, 58 
 
 MRS. PELL'S EXPERIMENT, 61 
 
 THE FAST YOUNG MAN, 67 
 
 SPEECH-MAKING, 69 
 
 WEALTH WITH INDOLENCE, 72 
 
 THOUGHTS FOR THE GLOOMY, 74 
 
 SUNSHINE AND CLOUDS, 77 
 
 THE COUNTRY IN WINTER, 78 
 
 1* 
 
 1201551
 
 VI CONTENTS. 
 
 PICK 
 TUB FEMALE FINANCIER, 82 
 
 THE EXPRESSMAN, 88 
 
 PHASES IN MARRIED LIFE, 91 
 
 "AND SO FORTH," 94 
 
 A FINE MORNING, 96 
 
 SOILED GARMENTS, 99 
 
 THE BROKEN PROMISES, 100 
 
 MODERN TALE, 105 
 
 " BUBBLEISM," 108 
 
 CURIOSITY, 112 
 
 LIFE IN THE COUNTRY, 113 
 
 COMMUTATION 119 
 
 THE OPPRESSED SEAMSTRESS, 121 
 
 OUR BEL, 126 
 
 A WIDOW'S EXPERIENCE, 133 
 
 DISCOURAGED GENIUS, 138 
 
 BUMMER BOARDING, 139 
 
 A " GENUINE WIDOWER," 145 
 
 THAT VACANCY, 154 
 
 "SELLING OFF AT COST," 157 
 
 THE UNFINISHED PICTURE, 165 
 
 MARRYING TOO LATE, 167 
 
 THE HENPECKED HUSBAND, 175 
 
 CLUB-HOUSES, 179 
 
 THE TRAITOR'S END 181 
 
 LITTLE PITCHERS WITH GREAT EARS, 187 
 
 THE PASS-BOOK, 189 
 
 POSTERITY, 195 
 
 THE FARM NEAR THE DEPOT, 197 
 
 A TRYING CASE, 205 
 
 THE EARLY SPRING FLOWERS 208 
 
 LIGHT AND SHADE 212
 
 CONTENTS. VII 
 
 FAGS 
 
 INQUISITIVE CHILDREN, 218 
 
 WHAT WILL PEOPLE SAT ? 223 
 
 MRS. BUTTERS' BABY, 226 
 
 LIFE, 233 
 
 A DARE PHASE IX LIFE, 234 
 
 A FACETIOUS SKETCH 237 
 
 HAPPINESS EQUALIZED, 240 
 
 SWEET SIXTEEN ; OR, THE FIRST FLIRTATION, 244 
 
 THE MAY-D.AY FESTIVAL, 250 
 
 MR. TANGLE'S EXPERIMENT, 254 
 
 FASHIONABLE BOARDING, 256 
 
 A WEEK AT THE FARM-HOUSE, 259 
 
 WORDS OF KINDNESS, 264 
 
 EVADING A DUN, 270 
 
 A PLEA FOR DOG-DAYS, 273 
 
 IN A DILEMMA, 278 
 
 MALE COQUETRY, 280 
 
 LOVE OF FASHION, 284 
 
 CHANGING PLACES, 286 
 
 THE AUDIENCE AND THE LECTURER, 289 
 
 MODERNIZING, 293 
 
 THE FIRST BEREAVEMENT, 296 
 
 PROPERTY, 302 
 
 THE CAST-OUT EVERGREEN, 395 
 
 THE WELL-ORDERED HOUSE, 310 
 
 IN A WORRY, 316 
 
 THE FADED LEAF, 318
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 PERFECTION IN LIVING. 
 
 How few understand the art of living happily ! Is it 
 not strange, when so many have lived before us, and we 
 might derive the advantage of their experience, that, after 
 all, we so fail of attaining the desirable end ? We begin 
 wrong, and then keep on wrong, and, of course, are 
 doomed to end wrong. Take, for example, a newly-mar 
 ried pair. The inquiry is not often " what can we afford, 
 and how can we best consistently live ?" but, "what 
 can I induce my father to give me 1 how handsome an 
 outfit can I possibly obtain 1 " The Brussels carpets and 
 long mirrors, in the houses of the affluent, did not always 
 hang there. There was a tedious process of accumulation 
 before sufficient was earned to justify the outlay. The 
 father, ten chances to one, sailed to foreign lands, encount 
 ered storms and shipwreck, but, not disheartened, still 
 pursued his employment, and at length became a success 
 ful owner, and retired from his exposed condition upon 
 the waves. But he has a daughter. She never knew of 
 her mother's anxieties lest master and cargo should be
 
 10 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 lost ; for she was too young to be distressed with imagin 
 ary troubles. She is to be married; and this same 
 hard-earned money is freely expended, and the new man 
 sion outvies the old one ; but, alas ! we fear the experi 
 ence of that toiling pair is wanting to learn the art of 
 living rightly. The idea that " father is rich, and I shall 
 never want," has been the ruin of thousands. 
 
 There, too, is the opulent merchant. Was he always 
 so 1 Some may tell you he once traded in a very small 
 way ; but they remember, too, how carefully he kept an 
 eye to his accounts, that expenditures should not exceed 
 the income. Is the son pursuing the same course? 
 Where he rides, the father walked. When the father 
 began life, the evenings were not spent at the theatres 
 nor amusements ; but in a snug corner, with a little square 
 table before a small fire, he used to "figure up" how 
 much he could afford to purchase for the enlargement of 
 his stock ; and then his prudent wife was willing to dis 
 pense with all useless finery. How is it now ? He is 
 worth two hundred thousand ! Does he enjoy more at 
 the marble table, when the son is vexing him to know if 
 he may not go abroad, as an apology for doing nothing, 
 than at that little square one, where only one candle shone 
 upon his Day-Book and Ledger? He will tell you, 
 " But Frank must be indulged ;" and the money is 
 launched out which will unfit him for a busy, industri 
 ous, happy life. Travelling merely to be idle, never 
 benefited anybody ; for they are too indolent to improve. 
 
 But what comes of all this living ? Certainly there is 
 little happiness ; for, at present, a busy round of exciting 
 pleasure is counted as the perfection of living.
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 11 
 
 Now, satiety follows all this effort to be happy; 
 whereas a steady, industrious person, who lives with fore 
 thought, who really desires to improve, does not do so. 
 
 Things that are had for the mere asking are not 
 prized like those for which we have toiled. It is a mis 
 erable notion that we must shield children from knowing 
 how to labor ay, and from actual labor. They never 
 can know happiness ; they never will live well. 
 
 When shall we learn that it is not what is without, 
 but what is within, that gives the true perfection of liv 
 ing ? I believe the trouble lies in not doing, as well as 
 in overdoing. When I see people so vexed because they 
 cannot procure some one to do for them what they would 
 feel all the better for doing themselves, my envy for the 
 wealth which occasions the torment, ceases. The fret- 
 fulness of the present day is much on the increase, simply 
 because we are so dependent on others. The multiplica 
 tion of luxuries makes the multiplication of servants. 
 We overload our tables, and at the same time have a dis 
 taste for viands which no toil has sweetened. The poor 
 body is put under " electric shocks," because our nerves 
 are too weak to oversee our cook or direct our chamber 
 maid. 
 
 We are forced to ride where we should walk, and then 
 complain of the inattention of the coachman, and scold 
 him about his carelessness. "Getting one's living" is 
 considered vulgar; and, as no passport to good society is 
 furnished people who work, is it any wonder so many are 
 striving to be gentlemen and ladies ? This causes the 
 clerk to lay out all his salary (it is well if he does not 
 more), in imitation of the rich man's son, who dresses no
 
 12 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 better than he; and the little shop-girl foregoes many 
 comforts, that she may secure a silk dress like a custom 
 er's 1 With these perverted views, where are we to end ? 
 Who will make the next generation ? Let us learn to be 
 as independent as possible of others. Let us ask, with 
 a manly courage, can I afford to do thus and so 1 Will 
 it dignify my character to yield to this indulgence ? Shall 
 I gain the respect of the truly worthy by these false 
 shows? Give a bold, thoughtful, attention to these 
 things, and be guided by the answer ; for the perfection 
 of living is in beginning to live rightly.
 
 SUDDENLY III C IT . 
 
 Mu. ATHOL wont to bed a poor man. and awoke the 
 next morning worth some two hundred thousand dollars ! 
 Before the accession of wealth, he was a toiling mafi for 
 a dependent family ; yet he always acquired sufficient, by 
 his industry, to keep his children in good condition, and 
 his wife a light-hearted woman ; besides having an agree 
 able intercourse with neighbors in the same block, under 
 similar circumstances. With a free and easy heart, every 
 Saturday night Athol settled with the world, and squared 
 all his accounts ; so he went to church with a feeling of 
 independence as long as his health should be continued 
 him. To be sure, riches in the prospective looked invit 
 ing to this worthy couple. They used to wish for them to 
 enable them to highly educate their children, to befriend 
 the poor widow in the next street, and, as they needed. 
 to bestow a pittance upon their aged parents ; but they 
 never coveted luxurious fare, showy dress, or a splendid 
 equipage ; perhaps because they were so unattainable 
 they left no room for such wishes. 
 
 But we said John Athol awoke one morning and found 
 himself a rich man. Being descended of English pa 
 rents, it appeared, by an advertisement in the evening 
 paper, " that the heirs of Potor Athol could learn some-
 
 14 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 thing greatly to their advantage by calling upon Smich 
 & Co/' That intelligence was neither more nor less 
 than that an aged uncle a rich, miserly man, who had 
 never married had recently died, and left a will, be 
 queathing to sundry unknown relatives in America, the 
 heirs of his brother Peter, the whole of his estate, after 
 defraying his funeral expenses, and giving an annuity to 
 his trusty servant, Jude. 
 
 The estate could not be exactly appraised ; it was 
 thought that it could not fall short of as many English 
 pounds as in our currency would amount to two hundred 
 thousand dollars ; and John Athol, a laboring man, was 
 the only heir to all this property ! 
 
 The curious sensations which this event awakened were 
 worthy of a graphic sketcher. The postman handed 
 honest John the letter just as he awoke at early dawn. 
 His behavior was not unlike the wild excess of joy 
 which a lunatic would manifest on some special breaking 
 out of sunshine in his heart. He read the letter first to 
 his wife. Her exclamation was characteristic of such 
 a woman : 
 
 " Well, John, we shall not be obliged to work any 
 more, and can dress ourselves as well as the best of 
 'em." 
 
 " Yes," said John ; " and we can have a new house, 
 and keep a carriage if we like, and have our servants, 
 and eat all the luxuries in the market. Turkeys and 
 plum-puddings will make our daily dinners, instead of 
 soup and mutton broth, and cheap vegetables And 
 besides, we can travel all over the world. How kind it 
 was in uncle Peter thus to remember us ! We must pay
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 15 
 
 our respects to his burial-place, and this, of course, will 
 carry us abroad. But let us wake the children, and tell 
 them of our good luck." 
 
 Peter, Nancy, Susy and Tommy, were all old enough 
 to know what money could do for them, and such a merry 
 household as the news created was never before in John 
 Athol's premises. Every one of them immediately pro 
 ceeded to tell what they could now purchase, and how 
 happy it would make them. 
 
 " Now," said Susy, "we must not associate with the 
 poor people around us. Having wealth, gives us a new 
 standing in society, and when we move we will bestow 
 some little presents upon the poor about us, just to keep 
 them in good favor, and then we will leave them for 
 ever." 
 
 " That 's a lucky thought," replied the mother ; " but 
 would it not be best to conceal for the present our great 
 wealth, until we can get some plans matured ? " 
 
 They all thought so, and agreed to keep the matter 
 close. 
 
 There was a heavy rap at the door. A whole company 
 of the neighbors were standing without to welcome and 
 congratulate honest John upon his good fortune. Not a 
 few, however, hinted that " they hoped this sudden rise 
 in the world would not turn their heads ; " and an old 
 farmer in the neighborhood suggested "it was always 
 well to ask the Lord's blessing, that we be not led astray 
 by the snares thus thrown in our way." Honest John 
 Aanked him, but we fear forgot to put up the petition. 
 
 Our friends will notice that what this worthy couple 
 coveted riches for, before they came, had never been
 
 16 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 mentioned by them since, namely, the education of their 
 children, helping the poor, and giving a lift to the aged 
 parents. Susy, to be sure, had spoken of having a music- 
 master, and buying a harp, because pianos were so com 
 mon ; and Peter said he should like to go through col 
 lege, if he could do so and not study. All seemed to 
 have wishes very different from their former ones. Tho 
 news ran like telegraphic despatches, that John Athol \v;is 
 a millionaire; gathering a growing sum in the mouth of 
 each one who heralded it. The Athol family were 
 nearly insane. 
 
 Never were people before in such a dilomma ! They 
 began to be far more unhappy than ever before, and when 
 the steamer brought a remittance of several thousands in 
 specie, it was, on the whole, the most disquieted day the 
 family had ever known. Stepping out from daily em 
 ployment, and looking upon such a store of uncounted 
 gold, and then feeling such a restless desire to appropri 
 ate it in such a manner as to make themselves happy, 
 was anything but agreeable to lookers-on. Singular as 
 it may appear, they began to be selfish in the very be 
 ginning ; or rather they were so contracted they had no 
 regard to supply anybody's wants but their own ; and 
 herein lay the secret of feeling such disquietude. In 
 deed, so entirely had the family immured themselves in 
 consultations at home, that they were not regretted, as 
 they might have been, when they removed from their 
 cheap, small tenement, to the granite house upon the hill. 
 Once, however, fairly settled in great splendor in then- 
 new abode, and the name of Athol glittering showily 
 upon the door, inquiries were at once commenced among
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 17 
 
 the neighbors as to who occupied the dwelling ; and being 
 told how they had suddenly risen from daily labor to be 
 " somebody," the wealthy old aristocrats' children, if 
 not their sires, turned up their noses and laid a veto upon 
 their acquaintance. 
 
 The first winter, therefore, was passed in most "in 
 glorious ease." John Athol dressed in broadcloth and 
 had nothing to do, and, more than all, he had no asso 
 ciates ; for his former companions in toil he foolishly 
 supposed would interfere with his dignity, by coming too 
 closely in contact with him, and, to most of the old citi 
 zens, John had an ungainly appearance which broadcloth 
 could not hide. His wife, too, was never so unhappy 
 before. She kept a great supply of servants, and erro 
 neously concluded she could be thus relieved from all 
 labor herself. In a very short time, however, she heard 
 disagreement among the servants, and saw waste and 
 destruction in larder, kitchen and cellar ; and sometimes, 
 forgetting her wealth, she plunged into domestic matters 
 as formerly, and somehow she confessed she felt much 
 better than with her hands folded in the drawing-rooms. 
 She supposed it was natural to her to work, but now she 
 hid her labors from observation, lest it should not be cred 
 itable to her station. 
 
 But the children much more readily fell into the new 
 mode of living. They soon learned what it was to be 
 " fashionable ; " but it evidently did not agree with their 
 constitutions. -They grew puny, wasp-waisted, and de 
 pendent. The boys were in a fair way to be ruined ! 
 They aped the complete dandy wore patent leather 
 boots or French calf-skins, carried walking-sticks with 
 2*
 
 18 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 gold heads, wore broad-brimmed hats and fashionable 
 neck-ties ; and, more than all, rose late in the morning, 
 because they were out so late at nights. Evidently John 
 Athol's family were depreciating ; and before long he 
 became aware of the fact, that money, invested in mere 
 luxuries, dwarfed the better part of human nature. 
 
 Still there came continual remittances, and Mr. Athol 
 was now forced to consult with a broker as to investing 
 it. He bought stocks in newly -formed companies, in the 
 expectancy of doubling his property ; but his schemes did 
 not all work as he had promised himself; still there was 
 a large margin wherein he could speculate. It looked to 
 John Athol like prairie grass to a northerner, when he 
 has just left a stunted half-crop at home. Yet gradu 
 ally the money seemed to elude his grasp, and he soou 
 found it was quite as much a task to learn to keep it as 
 to earn it, and far more unsatisfactory. The children 
 grew clamorous they grew dyspeptic, too, from want 
 of exercise, and they grew impatient and unhappy from 
 want of employment. The girls were in no fair way to 
 keep their present position, for one was flirting with a 
 profligate dandy, and the other was engaged to one who 
 lived on ice-creams and drank sarsaparilla bitters, if 
 nothing stronger and he had a character corresponding 
 to his diet. 
 
 John Athol and his wife began to be alarmed about 
 their children more than themselves. They therefore 
 concluded to break up the city establishment in the 
 spring, and begin a new life. They concluded upon a 
 trip across the water, and all the family embarked for 
 Europe. On the passage there was a clergyman, with
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 19 
 
 whom they formed a decided intimacy. John told him 
 all his former history. They had serious conversations 
 by moonlight upon the deck of the vessel, and the rich 
 man seemed troubled in mind. Sometimes he seemed to 
 be impressed that he was not making a right use of his 
 property, and he began to be afraid to give an account 
 of his stewardship. No one could rise up and plead for 
 him ; no one could say they had been blessed by him, 
 no widow's heart ever sang for joy because he remem 
 bered her "low estate." He told his wife of his 
 wretched misgivings. She tried to comfort him, yet 
 herself felt condemned. The children only laughed at 
 their superstitious fears. 
 
 There came a heavy storm upon them during their pas 
 sage. The captain looked out fearfully, and the pilot 
 felt dismayed ; the passengers were terror-stricken, and 
 John Athol quivered like an aspen leaf, and begged the 
 clergyman to pray for him. Money at this time seemed 
 of little consequence ; all they coveted was the enduring 
 riches of an inheritance above. 
 
 John made most solemn promises if his life should be 
 spared ; indeed, all his family seemed impressed while 
 the danger impended ; but when the storm ceased, the 
 children forgot their resolutions, and frolicked as before. 
 Not so did their parents. 
 
 They were at length safely landed in England, and 
 there John Athol engaged in a lucrative business, and 
 again commenced an industrious career, taking his two 
 boys under his immediate supervision, and allowing them 
 only what was necessary for a respectable appearance, 
 and obliging them to work for that. At first, they
 
 20 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 reluctantly acceded, but finding little enjoyment in com 
 plete idleness, they soon were happy in their new occu 
 pations. 
 
 Mrs. Athol attempted an amendment in the young 
 ladies, and so far succeeded as to make them cheerfully 
 surrender their foolish engagements ; and, as in England, 
 air and exercise are deemed so essential to strength of 
 hody and mind, they all fell into such " fashionable " and 
 healthful habits, and, by slow degrees, they all learned 
 the luxury of doing good with their abundance ; and the 
 delightful letters just received in America, represent 
 them in the most vigorous exercise of their powers, fully 
 convinced that to "become rich" without a ballast of 
 character proportionate to their weight, is always more 
 likely to prove a snare than a blessing.
 
 THE BEST ROOMS. 
 
 THERE is a kind of grim, staid air, which always gath 
 ers around one on entering the spacious drawing-rooms 
 which are devoted wholly to select visitors and fashion 
 able parties. Who does not prefer the free and easy 
 atmosphere of the basement or dining room, or the snug 
 little nursery, where everything lies about carelessly, 
 but not untidily ? You can sit down in these places, and 
 feel you arc a privileged guest ; the stiff demeanor is 
 thrown off, and the thoughts run in an easy channel, and 
 you feel at home. 
 
 But the " best rooms " in a city do not wear such a 
 gloomy air as those select places in the country. Deliver 
 me from the tomb-like, sombre appearance of the best 
 parlor in a large wooden house, situated on some bleak 
 hill, where the wind is keeping the .^Eolian harps in con 
 tinual play through the interstices between the window 
 casements. Such a room is only opened on great occasions. 
 Weddings are celebrated there, and so also are funerals. 
 Once in a few weeks, in summer, invited guests are 
 seated there a few hours previous to dinner or tea. If it 
 is a very warm day, it may be a luxury to stop awhile 
 in this apartment ; for the flies rarely enter such a 
 place. It is too cheerless for any living creature to vol-
 
 22 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 untarily make it a home, unless it be a company of 
 spiders, and they weave strange network in such places. 
 
 It happened during the last summer months, a friend, 
 who was distinguished for her uncommon neatness and 
 keen observation wherever paint was discolored or 
 slightly soiled, threw open the doors of her best par 
 lor to a party of city friends. Unluckily, a huge cob 
 web was displayed from the mirror to the ceiling, thence 
 the fancy device ran obliquely to the mantel shelf, and 
 as it arrested the attention of one of the party, her eyes 
 seemed riveted to the spot. The hostess, observing it, 
 proposed a walk in the garden, and, having rid her room 
 of visitors, she lost no time in displacing the cobwebs. 
 When they returned, however, the lady very ungallantly 
 joked upon the removal of the web, and added, ' ' I was 
 so delighted to see such an appendage in your room, my 
 dear friend, that I am amply repaid for the effort I made 
 to visit you." This practical joke was not, however, 
 pleasantly received, and it only serves to confirm the 
 truth that joking upon facts is at all times quite a haz 
 ardous business. 
 
 And there is " the parlor chamber " in the country ! 
 It has long, snowy-white curtains, deeply fringed, and 
 looped on one side, while the closed blinds give it a sad, 
 sickly hue ; but a solemn air seems to gather about you 
 even here. The mahogany bureau looks darker than in 
 any other room ; the bed presents an appearance of great 
 comfort beneath its white exterior, but you feel a strange 
 aversion to tumbling and rumpling it. It seems a fit 
 couch for a fevered patient, who longs for a cool and still 
 apartment, where the light of day is excluded. Such
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 23 
 
 are the associations which gather around " best rooms ! " 
 ! I would infinitely prefer the more common-place, where 
 the sun has free access, and people come in and go out 
 cheerfully ; where even the children play ball, and roll 
 hoop, and blow soap-bubbles ; for all these things indicate 
 that life is within, and merry hearts make us love to live 
 in their sunshine. 
 
 Yet, what a strange idea have I broached against such 
 parlors and chambers ! Who does not furnish and keep 
 such 7 We hire a house or buy one. Forthwith we 
 shut up a certain part of it. and reserve it only to open 
 on great occasions. Woe to the child that ventures within 
 one of these sanctums with his playthings ! If he is 
 dressed nicely, and his little feet are perfectly clean, 
 when mamma has a fashionable call from a lady who is 
 fond of children, little Tommy may go in and ask the 
 lady " how her little Susy is." But if he touches the 
 tassels upon that embroidered couch, or lifts up the cov 
 ering a bit to look at the pretty damask all concealed 
 beneath, his mother tells him, " Tommy, dear, you may 
 go into the nursery with Margaret, now. Mother don't 
 allow mischievous boys in this room." Poor child ! how 
 gladly he runs out of his prison, to where he can play 
 unrestrained and run without fear ! Tell me frankly, 
 kind reader, do you love the restraints which these "best 
 rooms " impose?
 
 FANCY WORK. 
 
 THE young lady who spends most of her time in doing 
 " fancy work," has a variety of complaints. What can 
 produce them '} She lies in bed till she is called to 
 breakfast, drinks a strong cup of Mocha, cats a roll, and 
 sits to the fancy work ! It is "so enchanting," she 
 would just finish that bud ; or draw the outline of that 
 superb dahlia, before she dresses for dinner ; but, hark ! 
 the bell i ings, and she took no note of time ; father has 
 come home, and Miss Paulina has her morning's work to 
 show him. He praises it exceedingly, gives her a two 
 dollar bill to expend in variegated worsted ; declares he 
 does not believe a girl in town is more industrious than 
 she. But, somehow or other, she has little appetite for her 
 idnner; she utterly discards meat; will take a thin slice 
 of currant pudding, and finishes her dessert with a few 
 nuts and raisins. She desires her mamma to purchase 
 those " worsteds;" it will save her the trouble of going 
 unt. In a few weeks, a beautiful screen is produced. tL> 
 work of Miss Paulina's own fingers ! How it is show a. 
 by her admiring parents, to numerous friends ! 
 
 This but goads on the young lady to undertake a set 
 of chair-coverings, and a piano-cloth, to match ! In her 
 mind's eye, how splendidly they will look in her own
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 25 
 
 parlor ! for Paulina expects to be married at no distant 
 day, when her lover returns from abroad. With this 
 engagement, and the fancy work, she has little inclina 
 tion for society ; when she takes a respite, it is to answer 
 her beau's last letter, or to linger over those sentences 
 which he penned on a foreign shore. 
 
 Two or three coverings are completed, when the 
 mother finds her daughter lounging upon the couch more 
 frequently, and complaining of a pain in her chest, be 
 tween her shoulders, and in her side. She looks pale ; 
 and, as she gets no better, it is thought best to send for a 
 physician. He comes, examines her pulse, looks at her 
 tongue, thumps on her lungs, leaves a prescription, and 
 goes away. But not so with the disease ; a universal 
 debility follows, and a cough succeeds. People speak of 
 it as a case of consumption ; but the parents are strangely 
 blinded, and talk about Paulina's native constitution ; 
 that she never from infancy was sick a day before her 
 cough is a cold ; she must take a composition of some 
 sort, which will remove it. The physician leaves a recipe ; 
 says little respecting his patient, but examines the lungs 
 more frequently ; and finally ends the chapter by telling 
 her friends she had better take a journey to the Sulphur 
 Springs. She does so, and is charmed with the effect. 
 The scenery, and bracing air, and entire change, almost 
 make her well before she reaches the Springs. The 
 parents are joyous they knew Paulina had no serious 
 disease ; and, excepting a slight cough, and a little 
 tendency to night-sweats, they cannot discover but she 
 is perfectly well. Just to amuse a few dull hours, Pau 
 lina took her fancy work. 
 8
 
 26 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 At the great hotel, filled with strangers and invalids, 
 she cares not to make herself common. A girl whose 
 affections are pledged to another, cares nothing for the 
 mass of people about her. She drinks the water, bathes, 
 eats at the public table, has a voracious appetite, and, 
 although she looks like an invalid, her parents do not 
 believe her to be one. She spends a month with them, 
 and returns home greatly invigorated, having completed 
 three chair-coverings, and traced the outlines for the 
 piano-cloth ! 
 
 The physician sees not so decided a change for the 
 better as he hoped ; but who wishes to communicate such 
 intelligence to fond parents 1 Mr. Gill is daily expected 
 . in the packet ship at New York, and Paulina is on the 
 tiptoe of expectation, and appears in her best humor to 
 meet him. He arrives, but exclaims, " Heavens. Paulina ! 
 what have you been about 1 Why, you are as pale as a 
 lily, and I left you the color of the rose." 
 
 Mamma interposes, and details the child's illness ; says 
 she attributes a good deal of it to anxiety on his account, 
 and quiets the lover with the assurance that she will soon 
 be well again. She does grow better ; for she walks now, 
 rides occasionally, and obeys more of the laws of nature, 
 which she has too long defied. Mr. Gill does not seem 
 pleased with the fancy work ; has brought some home 
 from Germany, far richer ; and so Paulina throws by her 
 worsteds, and bestows all her labor upon her mother, as a 
 parting present. Keep it, fond mother; it was at the 
 expense of a ruined constitution, those buds and fiWers 
 were made ! Those cypress leaves will have a peculiar 
 significance soon ; they should form the chaplet which
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 27 
 
 encircles the birth, age, and death of this young 
 girl! 
 
 But she marries, a frail, delicate creature, constant 
 ly under the care of a physician, and a perpetual source 
 of anxiety to her husband. Her cough is more and more 
 troublesome, and they are on the eve of starting to pass 
 the winter in Charleston, S. C., when Mrs. Gill is seized 
 with bleeding at the lungs, and is utterly prostrated ! 
 Her physician only wonders the crisis has been delayed 
 so long ! The husband is distressed beyond measure ; 
 her mother is frantic, and all at once is awakened to the 
 danger of the case. Now, what efforts are used to 
 produce recovery ! Physicians of acknowledged celebrity 
 are consulted; panaceas that have "never failed" do not 
 reach the case. Nurses and skill may prolong the suf 
 ferer's life, but the termination will soon come. The 
 announcement is made that Mrs. Gill is seized with 
 another fit of bleeding, and, shortly after, that she is 
 dead ! There is no post mortem examination, although 
 the friends desire it ; it is so clearly a plain case of con 
 sumption, that medical men ask for no testimony but that 
 already furnished. There should, instead of a post mor 
 tem examination, have been a coroner's inquest, and it 
 would have been clearly proved that the parents were 
 guilty of murder, certainly in the second degree ; and 
 they should have been made to atone for such a crime as 
 permitting a child to live without any regard to physical 
 laws, and thus lay the foundation of incurable disease. 
 
 But how reads the community such events ? 
 
 " By a mysterious Providence" says the biographer, 
 " a young and interesting female, who had just entered
 
 28 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 upon the responsibilities of domestic life, has been sud 
 denly snatched from among us by the insatiate destroyer 
 who spares no mark, however prized. Endowed by 
 nature with a vigorous constitution, the insidious advances 
 of the common enemy were not observed until he had 
 sapped the citadel of life, and thus, in a few short months, 
 the parents' pride, the husband's hope, the light of many 
 a circle, has been snatched away, leaving a numerous 
 band of mourners the reflection that all which friendship 
 and skill could effect was promptly done ; but, alas ! they 
 proved unavailing." This libel upon Providence ought 
 not to be borne ! This natural effect of transgression, 
 which as surely followed disobedience, as wilful suicide, 
 should not be ascribed to an inscrutable decree ! If we 
 thus sin ignorantly, it is all our oi.cn fault, and we justly 
 deserve the penalty ; since every school-book might teach 
 us that exercise and air are indispensable to any tolerable 
 measure of health, particularly in young females. 
 
 Fancy work has been the death of hundreds. Who 
 can take any satisfaction in examining the nicest piece 
 of elaborate workmanship, when the penalty paid for it 
 was a spinal affection, or an aching side, or diseased 
 lungs ? A great religionist once exclaimed, as he looked 
 upon such a piece of labor, " It is red with the blood of 
 murdered time," alluding to the most conspicuous color 
 in the embroidery. Rather would I call it suicidal 
 murder ; inflicted by known causes, for reasons wwknown ; 
 for, after all, a yard of tapestry may be twice as beauti 
 ful as that upon which life has been sacrificed. 
 
 By these remarks I would not be understood to distwd 
 the use of the needle, and instead thereof substitute street
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 29 
 
 spinning ! Far from it it is fancy work, that 
 enchanting labor, which binds some fingers to the employ 
 ment, regardless of proper exercise, about which we 
 declaim. There is no need of enforcing upon a female 
 not to have so strict a watch over her hosiery and com 
 mon sewing. I never knew the health to fail by too 
 close application to common work. How seldom is one 
 obliged to be reproved for over-practising upon a piano ! 
 How few for mending, or remodelling, their own clothing ! 
 How few for attending to domestic affairs ! It is only 
 upon this useless, body-destroying, and, for aught I know, 
 sow/-destroying, fancy work, that I would pass the laws 
 of condemnation. Believe me, when I add. I am acquainted 
 with a young lady who ruined her health, some years 
 since, by working a, black lace veil! 
 3*
 
 CHASING THE RAINBOW. 
 
 THERE was a dark cloud in the western horizon. The 
 low mutterings of distant thunder were heard, and a few 
 drops of rain gave warning of a timely character to the 
 loiterer unprotected in his way. And as that heavy 
 cloud united with others, and assumed a still more ter 
 rific aspect, the lightning began to play upon the mag 
 netic wires, the wind with redoubled fury swept the 
 foliage against the window-panes, and suddenly the rain 
 fell in torrents. Now, the lately parched street was 
 filled with foaming, rushing water, and pedestrians 
 sought shelter in every nook that offered, and all the by- 
 places were secured as a shelter against the untimely 
 blast. The strife of the elements seemed maddened and 
 fearful ; man, in his lofty strength, felt his insecurity and 
 inability to control the mandates of his Creator's will, and 
 shrank like a child, to adore in silence that wordless 
 voice which attested such almighty power. But look 
 now, the clouds have parted ; a narrow strip of clear 
 blue sky is discernible, and a splendid rainbow is over 
 arching the heavens. Yon little urchin would fain 
 take hold of its foot ; for the rainbow seems to have set 
 tled down just back of yonder hill. He runs to find 
 its termination ; for he would examine the prismatic
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 31 
 
 colors which are so blended together. He would find 
 how they are commingled would fain hold in his tiny 
 hand the blue, the violet, and the delicate shaded pink ; 
 but, arrived at the hill, it seems still further onward, 
 and its foot now rests as far beyond his present location, 
 as when he first started. Chase the rainbow as far as he 
 will, it is always terminated in the distance. 
 
 The child cries over the delusion ; he wonders of what 
 and for what rainbows were made ; they are emblematic 
 of no promise to him ; he wants a grasping reality. 
 But is it the child only who chases the rainbow 1 How 
 many, who have started in life with the heavy cloud above 
 them, have, as it parted and unfolded some magic colors, 
 been allured by the dazzling brightness, and entered 
 upon a vain pursuit to catch the illusion, and yet have 
 always found it still further from their grasp ! I would 
 , not that so many misguided travellers should rise before 
 me ; for that thunder-cloud ought to have left a salutary 
 influence; those heavy rain-drops were designed to 
 moisten the parched soil of the human affections, and that 
 rainbow which followed was a sure pledge that the prom 
 ises thus awakened would be fulfilled only we are too 
 curious to examine the blended colors, which are the 
 precursors of our future welfare. 
 
 Yet, look out once more upon nature when the tran 
 sient shower has subsided. That furious blast, which so 
 curled and bent, and even prostrated, the delicate buds ; 
 that rain, which so washed the roots and made numberless 
 little seams of earth as if lacerated to the very founda 
 tion, has unsealed the bud, and, as we look, the flower 
 is imperceptibly but beautifully opening to our gaze ;
 
 32 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 the drooping tendrils again rise with renewed strength; 
 the bright sun kisses off the pearly drops that stood upon 
 leaf and tender limb, and the beautiful reflection of the 
 rainbow tinges this once fearful shower with a beauty 
 worth the skill of the heavenly Architect. 
 
 Just so in daily life the discipline of dark clouds is 
 only an augury of bright manifestations in the distance; 
 our tears are but the fertilizing of dry and dusty spots 
 which needed their genial influences, and the rainbow is 
 but the light of our Father's countenance, to illumine tho 
 eye of faith with the tokens of his love.
 
 TIMIDITY. 
 
 THE feeling of timidity, which sometimes embarrasses 
 us in the presence of our superiors, often makes us unjust 
 to ourselves. Our timidity drives our senses out of us. 
 We are ashamed of our bashfulness, and this conscious 
 ness makes us awkward in our attempts to overcome it. 
 We have a friend who is very loquacious, and always 
 talks to the purpose, save in the presence of one man ; 
 and before him he never uttered a sentence worth repeat 
 ing. We were forcibly struck with the same kind of 
 reserve which Hazlitt describes in a visit he paid to 
 Coleridge. 
 
 The thought of the meeting had worn heavily upon 
 him, for he seemed to disparage his own powers, and 
 magnify his friend's. After the small-talk incident to 
 meeting was discussed, Hazlitt undertook to give Cole 
 ridge an account of some thoughts he had written ' ' On 
 the Natural Disinterestedness of the Human Mind." 
 "But," said he, "I failed; and, after I had tried for 
 the twentieth time, I got some new pens and paper, and 
 determined to make clear work of it. I wrote a few 
 meagre sentences in the skeleton style of a mathematical 
 demonstration ; but I was forced to stop when half way 
 down the second page, for I tried in vain to
 
 34 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 words, images, notions, apprehensions, fancies, and facts, 
 from that gulf of abstraction in which I was plunged, 
 and concluded by shedding a few tears of despondency on 
 the blank, unfinished paper. I can write better now ! 
 Am I better than I was then ? 0, no ! my timidity has 
 left me." - 
 
 Great minds undoubtedly feel distanced as well as 
 attracted by each other. Only weak heads with shallow 
 brains will chatter on regardless of their superiors. But 
 we are fast, as a mass, getting out of this bashfulness. 
 We are running too far at random, reckless of what peo 
 ple think or say of us. Hence, possessed of one idea, we 
 carry it about with us, and throw it in everybody's face : 
 we write with lightning speed, and the thoughts are 
 scorching, and show only the wildness of the brain. 
 Such people know not the definition of timidity, and we 
 question whether, in the progress of the nineteenth cen 
 tury, the word, if used at all, will not be found in our 
 dictionaries with a parenthesis, marked (obsolete).
 
 THE HOLIDAY WALK. 
 
 WOULD that everybody were happy about these fes 
 tival days ! We would iron out the wrinkles from the 
 careworn brow, and put a jubilant tone into the speech 
 of those who are brooding over "memories of the past," 
 and show every gloomy countenance how it may be irra 
 diated by a cheerful smile in the contemplation of 
 the blessings which, although Avithdrawn, were continued 
 so long and gave so much of zest to former days. But 
 we must remind such that they must look out from them 
 selves ; and if they will put on their winter garments 
 and go with me into the crowded thoroughfares of our 
 great metropolis, where at every other step they will see 
 the inviting placards, " Christmas and New- Year Gifts 
 at reduced prices," " Dry Goods at cost," " California 
 outdone," " Secure your bargains here," &c., just as we 
 happen to stop at the window of a toy-shop we shall be 
 sure to find Mr. Jones, or Smith, or Brown, who has 
 taken his wife and their two little precocities into this 
 very shop, to select their holiday presents. The parents 
 of these children have concluded it is best that " Sammy 
 and Tommy " shall make their own selections this year. 
 It will throw them more on their own resources, help 
 them develop their immature judgment, and, in short,
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 make them more manly. Now the spectator would 
 judge there is little need of that conclusion, for they 
 both are dressed in small-clothes with knee-buckles, wear 
 tiny beaver hats, and carry walking-sticks, which they 
 flourish with more of an air than " Grandpa." Besides, 
 the little fellows know enough of the definition of words 
 to tell you the different meanings of "I will" and "I 
 won't," as they are selecting their holiday presents. 
 " Mamma" has stood this half hour trying to persuade 
 " Sammy" to take a little box entitled "The Wonders of 
 Creation in a Nut-shell ; " but he has seen a drum, with 
 the two sticks attached to its sides, and master Tommy 
 is blowing a miniature fife, and five and seven years are 
 not insensible to martial music, and they are resolved to 
 secure these noisy playthings, and act the part of soldiers ; 
 for Biddy has promised to make them each a paper cap 
 and put a red feather in it. Well, they have carried the 
 day, and the purchases are made. 
 
 Just at the further end of the same counter little 
 " Susy" is selecting a big doll. "No, she don't want any 
 other but that ;" although mother thinks five dollars is a 
 great sum to pay for a miniature baby, when so many 
 real, living foundlings are set down at our doors for 
 nothing. Watch a moment. 
 
 " Susy " has secured her treasure, and it is laid in a 
 bit of a trundle-bed, and her little eyes sparkle with 
 delight, and she jumps and capers and tosses up the baby, 
 and imitates the exact movements of the nursery -maid 
 at home. All this is very pretty for sport in both in 
 stances. But by and by, when we take a miff at some 
 foreign country, or fancy Cuba would be a pretty append- 

 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 37 
 
 age to our United States, the little boys who are to-day 
 playing rub-a-dub will, perchance, have grown to man 
 hood, and the fires of patriotism will burn so fiercely 
 that they cannot be restrained from fighting either "to 
 conquer or die;" and should they be united to the little 
 miss who bought the big doll, but has now grown to 
 womanhood, and tosses a real, live baby, that crows and 
 cries and wants to put his fingers in the gas light, the 
 glorious fun which the purchasers to-day have made, 
 causing them to be so gay and happy, will settle off in 
 a monotone, and they will talk plaintively together about 
 separating, perhaps forever, if slain upon the battle 
 field! So, after all, we see there is a responsibility 
 attached even to a holiday present. By these very gifts 
 we may lay the foundation of a ferocious spirit, or sow 
 the seeds of a proud and vain superciliousness, which 
 may flower in after years, when you can never eradicate 
 the root, and shall even have forgotten that you helped 
 the germination by gratifying the indulgence of the first 
 tiny wants of childhood. 
 4
 
 THE HYDROPATHIST. 
 
 WHY not be a fish, and swim all the time in your 
 native element ? Why dart out from the aquatic tub to 
 be placed between feather beds, encased in wet sheets, 
 and thus sweat out thy existence contrary to the law of 
 old, "by the sweat of thy brow thou shalt earn thy 
 bread" ? Do not become a monomaniac upon one idea. 
 Bathing is good, daily ablution is refreshing, invigor 
 ating, cleansing, purifying ; but, like all good things, 
 it may be perverted. Cold water is not the panacea 
 for every ailment and ill in life ; a wet jacket will not 
 always ward off every attack. But let us not quarrel 
 about this liquid element, water. It is to be highly 
 prized, we will admit all its excellences ; but, in doing 
 so, we would not overlook other bountiful provisions of 
 nature, by which both the outer and inner man is ma.de 
 a worthy temple for the human soul. An exclusive 
 medicine, like an exclusive thought, is very apt to de 
 range all the natural functions. You have lost flesh, 
 but you have the cleanly, wholesome appearance of a 
 duck. You have wasted your system by injudiciously 
 applying this element. Some have broken down, by 
 thus doing violence to constitutional laws. Yet you still 
 persist in this daily practice; its use occupies all your
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 39 
 
 thoughts ; your medicine has become your daily 
 thought; and when this is the case, it is the more doubt 
 ful whether the malady will leave you. Cheerful occu 
 pation for the mind has done more toward recovery of 
 the body than all other remedies put together. Again 
 I caution you, use, but do not abuse, this kindly element. 
 A duck with the mind of a man would be a natural 
 phenomenon. Be a hydropathist if you will, but for 
 humanity's sake do not ally yourself with any other 
 species but that God intended for you. 
 
 Look at the canary in your window ; watch his habits. 
 Early in the morning he dips his wings, and flutters 
 about in his tiny pond ; but no sooner has he done so, 
 than he rises to the top of his cage, and begins to carol 
 forth his song. He is not again in the element rioting 
 in excess. Learn of the bird to be cleanly, but like him 
 plume thy wings for an upward flight.
 
 THE WIFE ON THE HOMESTEAD. 
 
 THERE are few positions in life more trying than the 
 situation of a daughter-in-law; particularly if she be 
 doomed to reside with the " old folks/' and a variety of 
 brothers and sisters, who are all pledged to their own 
 ways, and feel infallible in their judgment upon others. 
 We are all frail ; but the covering with which we shield 
 the faults of our own kindred seems to be cast aside in 
 this new relationship. "Richard" never does an im 
 proper thing; but if "Mary" has purchased a rich 
 shawl, or has treated herself to a new silk dress, and 
 appears out fresh and neat, without a previous consulta 
 tion, what a whispering and wondering, perhaps what a 
 jealous and envying disposition is manifested ! The old 
 lady says, ' ' she never brought up her girls to such ex 
 travagance. Hitty never owned a nice silk in her life, 
 but she earned it in keeping school ; and Sarah Ann has 
 never afforded herself a silk cloak. Now, to have such 
 an interloper come right in upon us, and set such fash 
 ions, is quite too much for me. Besides, it will fail 
 Richard, poor boy, who has always kept his money in 
 such a snug way." But stop, my good friend; Mary 
 brought to your son some thousands, and has more in 
 expectancy ; or she is a sweet-tempered lady, and such 
 conduct will sadly grieve her.
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 41 
 
 Then \voe to the young wife if they live in common ! 
 The veriest trifles are often magnified, and the happiness 
 of a family is often marred by the addition of a single 
 extra egg in the pudding, or a disposition to make a little 
 tasteful arrangement upon the table, even with her own 
 purchased articles. In this case, it is said, " modern 
 upstarts wish to begin where their fathers left off. The 
 country is all tending to pauperism, and there is no such 
 thing as economy practised now-a-days." 
 
 But the trials are not all told ; indeed, no pen could 
 portray all the petty vexations with which some young 
 housekeepers are assailed. A few friends to tea, a light 
 entertainment for the evening, a few extra lamps, an 
 accompaniment to the piano as the finale piece, how it 
 grates and jars on the ears of the old people in the sitting- 
 room ! There may have been performers on flutes and 
 tamborines ; solos and duets may have been sung for years 
 by their own daughters, without a word of complaint ; 
 but the scene is changed now ! These modern wives 
 have friends with whom they correspond, and sometimes 
 they do not feel as if their time is entirely thrown away 
 if they attend to some literary pursuits, read a valua 
 ble book, or even glance over the contents of the daily 
 journal. But to encounter the imputation of " saunt^r- 
 ing away one's time," or being charged with "being 
 indifferent to the interests of a husband," because one is 
 sometimes out of the treadmill, is, indeed, a hard lot. 
 
 And to fail in well-meant efforts, to have a wrong con 
 struction placed upon all one's actions, to be watched, 
 questioned, bored and fretted at, why, it would destroy 
 the serenity of an angel. But worse than all is to have 
 4*
 
 42 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 a backbiting spirit going on with Richard, the husband, 
 by loving sisters and an affectionate mother, to make him 
 feel he has erred in his choice ! Let me tell you, Rich 
 ard, Avhen it conies to this, for pity's sake find other 
 quarters ; board at some third-rate hotel is preferable, 
 for there independence is felt, and this often atones for a 
 frugal table. If you remain where you are, as you are, 
 you will not be troubled many months with a cheerful 
 companion ; she will first pine away without any apparent 
 cause ; the family will never think her much ill ; the 
 advice of a physician will be deemed unnecessary ; and, 
 erelong, she, the light-hearted, rosy-cheeked wife, will 
 slowly decay, like the damask rose with a worm at its 
 root. 
 
 This is not all a fancy sketch. Thousands have 
 endured similar trials, and if they have survived them, 
 you will find cross-grained, peevish women have been 
 the result of such living ; and who can tell how many 
 fatal diseases have followed in the train of blighted 
 hopes ? 
 
 In most cases, the smallest establishment is more con 
 ducive to happiness than taking the wife to the homestead. 
 Exceptions there may be ; but they are few, like the 
 stars in the horizon when most of the sky is overcast.
 
 A CHAPTER ON CORNS. 
 
 WHO ever wrote out a pain 1 What word can express 
 the twinging, indefinable sensation, which arises from the 
 small protuberance called a corn ? Yet how few re 
 gard such an irritation, that literally makes you so mis 
 erable and unhappy ! True, you apply a plaster when 
 your patience is worn out, or you wrap the aching 
 excrescence in emolient, or bathe it in cold water ; but 
 who ever thinks of commiserating with one who has 
 only a corn ? A fever may bring more debility with 
 it. but not half so much pain ; a disease which calls for 
 medical aid may excite more alarm, but is not so trying 
 as a corn. Did you ever take a walk in the country 
 when the windows of heaven had been shut up some 
 days, and, after you had broiled an hour in the sun, 
 attempt to remove the tight shoe which enclosed your 
 corn 7 Could you ever describe the sensation '? Did 
 you ever put on a new pair of boots, and set off in a car 
 or coach, where you were confined all day without rem 
 edy, and not suffer more distress than language could 
 describe ? 
 
 I appeal to the great brotherhood of humanity, for 
 they are legions, who know by experience that I hav 
 sketched realities.
 
 44 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 But the foot must be dressed neatly. One must have 
 a good fit, and that means a snug one ; consequently we 
 go limping through the world with a distorted coun 
 tenance, and walk as if treading on precious gems, 
 simply because our feet are scourged. How we welcome 
 the sight of our best friend, an old shoe ! How gladly 
 we raise the aching foot to another chair, and feel how 
 comfortable is solitary confinement, if we are only at 
 ease ! Whence come these afflictive evils what pro 
 duces them? "Tight shoes, tight boots," is again and 
 again reiterated. You tell your shoemaker these troubles ; 
 he measures you, gives plentiful allowance to ease ; but, 
 alas ! a woful twinge gives you warning that he has mis 
 understood the case. You grow despairing, threaten to cut 
 a slit in the side of the new boot or shoe, when along 
 comes the newspaper. The advertisement headed ' : Corns 
 Cured " has more interest to you than the Compromise 
 Bill. The corn can be extracted for the trifling siim of 
 one dollar ! The coin in the desk drawer is drawn out most 
 cheerfully, and you are soon on your way to submit to 
 amputation. Some one in the crowded street treads on 
 you, and your corn is touched in the most sensitive part, 
 so that you literally cry out. You arrive at the surgeon's. 
 He looks at the cause of all your nervous agitation, and 
 tells you he can directly relieve you. You throw down 
 the dollar ; without much ado he extracts the corn, and 
 you are a happy being. Life seems all sunshine ; you fit 
 out in French boots and narrow-toed shoes, and patent 
 shining leather pumps, and really dance on, where before 
 you only limped. 
 
 But did ever an ecstatic joy last long ? All at once,
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 45 
 
 in a hot dog-day, you feel another twinge. There is no 
 mistake in the feeling ; a new corn is springing up just 
 where the old one was taken out. You feel that you have 
 been humbugged go to your doctor with the perspira 
 tion on your brow, and demand the reason of this sensa 
 tion ? He tells you, ' ' My dear sare, for one dollar I 
 relieve you. You treat your toe like Avell person, Avhereas 
 it be in val id." You swing open the door and return, 
 wisely concluding if you are always to wear moccasins 
 and loose slippers, you will help him to no more amputa 
 tions. In a few days he calls on you to inquire, " If, 
 sare, you object to append your name to von certificat, 
 that you were entirely cured by mine agency ?" How 
 lucky it is we were taught lessons of good breeding ! 
 How fortunate that we call it "vulgar and low" to kick 
 over a dumb animal, much more a contemptible quack ! 
 
 There are ills we are born to bear, and corns come 
 under this catalogue. We cannot tread firmly, and we 
 need not expect it ; we cannot feel easy, and we need not 
 covet it, only when in a dark evening, or about our own 
 home, we find the old slippers and give ourselves to free 
 and easy treatment. 
 
 We read that St. Paul says, " a thorn was given him 
 in the flesh." Commentators are divided as to what the 
 annoyance was ; but who can doubt but it was a corn ?
 
 PLEASURE-SEEKING. 
 
 TRUNKS and bandboxes were never in greater requi 
 sition than at the present time. Look at the coach at 
 the door of your opposite neighbor. See the vast quan 
 tity of baggage that is to be piled on behind, beside the 
 carpet-bags and valises under the driver's feet, and the 
 innumerable smaller boxes, and sunshades, and umbrel 
 las, that are to ride inside. We have often pondered 
 upon the show the contents of such an outfit would make, 
 displayed to the eye of the multitude. What bachelor 
 would ever again think of marrying, after having wit 
 nessed it ? We are now speaking of the mere sight 
 seeing and pleasure-travelling public. They are starting, 
 they scarcely know where ; they expect to touch at fash 
 ionable resorts, to rest in quiet country inns, to see life 
 as it is, life as it should be, and life as we make it. All 
 these places require a great variety of apparel, adapted 
 to climate, situation, and the company to be met. So 
 "madam" must take her brocades, lest it become too 
 cool for her lighter fabrics ; but the " tissues " must not 
 be omitted, because in some places there is a great display 
 of fancy dresses even among the "mammas," on account 
 of the daughters. Then the rigging for the head the 
 false fronts, or half or whole wigs, fresh from the 

 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 47 
 
 dresser's shop, all perfumed with bergamot ; the tasteful 
 head-dresses of ribbon, and lace and flowers ; the nicely- 
 flounced skirts, over which laundry maids have so copi 
 ously perspired, and quit their places ; the network 
 hosiery of the choicest silk, which has been whitened 
 around black bottles for the occasion. Why, the legions 
 of articles, which help compose the contents of trunks 
 and bandboxes, who can enumerate half of them, all 
 compressed tightly together, but so carefully wedged as 
 not to wrinkle or tumble each other ? Then there are the 
 smaller trunk and little valise, belonging, as the girls 
 say, to " father." These contain shirt-bosoms, stiff and 
 shiny as new pieces of tin ware, dickeys made to wear, 
 without wilting, the hottest of dog-days ; perchance a 
 light gossamer wig. or an extra "scratch," to cover 
 the old gentleman's bald head, or a half-dozen cravats 
 that the young ladies can tie into a Brobdignagian style; 
 added to which is a cumbrous suit of new broadcloth, 
 and a case of the nicest cigars. 
 
 But we are told that this starting off is in consequence 
 of the poor health of the young ladies. And don't they 
 look puny, low-spirited and dyspeptic, only as the present 
 excitement has got up a little glow? Ten chances to one 
 they are out this very minute, while their trunk is being 
 packed, buying "Eva's Parting." or the very last fash 
 ionable music, and a small cargo of confectionery to con 
 sume at odd times. And haven't they a big trunk of 
 dresses and flounced under-dresses, of which they alone 
 know the uses and names 7 Mark it, how feeble they 
 are ! Is a walk proposed by the father or mother ? "0 
 dear, do let us have a carriage ! " is the exclamation of
 
 48 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 the youngest. Then they talk upon side-aches, and doc 
 tor's prescriptions, and wish they could rid themselves 
 of nervous complaints ; but they are too feeble to ride 
 on horseback ; they have no appetites for anything save 
 ice-creams and syllabubs; consequently, they move on 
 from the country inn to more fashionable quarters ; and, 
 after travelling the six weeks in dog-days, come home, 
 little refreshed, to talk about winding up with a " Euro 
 pean tour." The truth is, had they left those cumbrous 
 trunks and bandboxes at home, and travelled for comfort 
 merely, they would have found what they sought. 
 
 Now take a peep at Mrs. Bogg's prospects. She has 
 been directed to change the scene, to seek variety as 
 a restorative to " weakened nerves and general debility." 
 No sooner does she receive the prescription, than up 
 comes the inquiry, " What shall I want to wear ? " 
 The dressmaker is sent for ; her work is slackened, and 
 here is a good customer. She recommends foulards, 
 silk bareges, light, graceful mantillas, and all the para 
 phernalia which a young bride would desire on her wed 
 ding tour. From inability to leave her chamber to 
 attend to any domestic avocations, she places herself in a 
 carriage, drives to our most splendid dry goods establish 
 ments, orders the most unique and expensive articles, 
 slowly concludes which color will best become her lily 
 cheeks, and finally orders a large parcel for the aforesaid 
 dressmaker to select from. A fortnight, by day and 
 night, is spent by seamstresses to array the invalid Mrs. 
 Bogg for this journey for health ! When she finally 
 starts off, she is only sustained upon " Sarsaparilla bit-
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 49 
 
 ters," and a prescription from the physician, " to increase 
 the tone of the system." 
 
 Why did she not put on her travelling habit, take a 
 few useful articles of dress from her full closet, have 
 them packed in one trunk or a large carpet-bag, and 
 thus derive some benefit from her journey ? Need we 
 wonder that so many invalids return home no better 
 than they left it ? So long as they are slaves to fashion, 
 and content to forego all the pleasurable benefits which 
 a journey in a rational way might produce, so long will 
 they talk about going " South " in the winter, and 
 hardly keep soul and body together at the " North" in 
 the summer. 
 
 Now, it is the contents of those big trunks and band 
 boxes that work all the mischief. They cost a vast deal 
 more than the two-dollar-a-day hotels ; but the indulgent 
 husband or affectionate father very cheerfully toils on to 
 pay the semi-yearly bills, and makes no complaints, save 
 " at the ruinous state of the times and the extravagant 
 follies of people in general." 
 
 We go for a good appearance abroad as at home for 
 a " genteel outfit," if you term it, when among strangers ; 
 but neither the weak, nor the lazy or fashionable, will 
 ever realize the full enjoyment to be derived from change 
 of scene and air, until they rise above all foolish rivalry 
 in dress and gewgaws. Half the day spent in bedecking 
 one's self for dinner, and the other half in preparing for 
 a "hop" in the evening, never created any more self- 
 respect on account of the labor. A whirl-about in dog- 
 days with gentlemen who wear " imperials," and who 
 lie in bed till noon, and then surfeit upon mint juleps to 
 5
 
 50 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 keep up the excitement, is not worth appearing in in 
 all that formidable array of finery contained in those 
 large trunks and bandboxes. Young ladies should never 
 marry nor be married for outside appearances ; and if 
 the qualities of the mind and heart are not sufficient to 
 induce admiration, never imagine you can rummage any 
 thing out of a " great trunk or small bandbox," that 
 will enchain the affections during all the varieties which 
 ever await the marriage state.
 
 
 AN AGREEABLE COMPANION. 
 
 WE are often wearied with a great talker, but never 
 with an agreeable companion. How eagerly the society 
 of an agreeable friend is sought ! How welcome they are 
 on a journey, in a sick-room, or at home ! Life assumes 
 a very different aspect when we live in such a genial 
 atmosphere. We are never tired of living, because there 
 is a charm, a spell, that binds us to that fellow-being. 
 Look at the opposite character, a disagreeable person, 
 and you will understand my meaning. This is one 
 whose daguerreotype is more easily taken, and may we 
 not fear the reason is, because the likeness is more com 
 mon? a fretful being, who never sees a ray of sunshine 
 but a cloud all the darker follows it; one who enter 
 tains her friends with descriptions of petty grievances in 
 her children, or who inveighs against her "help," who 
 are always rude and unaccommodating ; and who inflicts 
 all yesterday's conversation with Bridget the cook, or 
 Nancy the chambermaid, upon you, and is sure to nar 
 rate what "she said," and "I said to her." Such a 
 person is severely trying, and more than once have I 
 heard one and another remark, "0, we won't call there; 
 Mrs. is so tedious about her family affairs ! " 
 
 An agreeable person never holds up the faults of her
 
 52 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 connections, or friends, or domestics, to another for the 
 sake of "making talk," as some call it. There are 
 always a vast many subjects upon which we may dilate, 
 according as the taste, occupation, or habits of those with 
 whom we are conversing, may suggest, whereby mutual 
 benefit may be conferred. Perhaps we have need again 
 to cite the remark, the most agreeable are not of necessity 
 the most loquacious. Dr. Johnson once said, he kneAv 
 of but one agreeable woman in the world, and the whole 
 secret of her being so arose from the fact, she knew 
 just when to speak, and just what to say. A rare 
 gift, truly.
 
 MONEY. 
 
 Do you see that thin-fingered, slender old man, bend 
 ing over the daily journal, the moment it is left at his 
 door ? What is he looking for with such intense inter 
 est? Why, in a small square the prices of " stocks " are 
 quoted, and perhaps, in another square, some comments 
 are made on "money and business; " and, having read 
 these, he looks at the " Telegraphic " head, to learn how 
 the New York market stands what is said about " cot 
 ton," and other things, which materially affect his invest 
 ments. If the "times" look favorable, that gouty old 
 toe pains him less; if squally, woe to the household 
 where he reigns supreme ! Nothing goes right with him 
 when monetary affairs go wrong. " Women must curtail ; 
 it's of no use to spend so much in finery ; one silk dress 
 is enough for any woman. As to servants, he will not 
 pay so much wages." "But, who will rub your foot, 
 grandpa 1 " asks his little, smiling grand-daughter. "I'll 
 rub it myself," he answers gruffly, " before I '11 come to 
 nothing by extravagant help." All this comes from 
 reading those little items mentioned above. His family 
 never guess the reason of this irritability ; he hardly 
 knows what produces it himself ; but, depend on it, its 
 whole origin can be traced to money. 
 5*
 
 54 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 Now, I contend, much of our happiness, reason as we 
 will about it, depends on money. 
 
 It is vain to enumerate what it will procure. The 
 richest land, the best house, the most elegant furniture, 
 the finest span of horses, the neatest vehicle, the best of 
 attendants, the gayest troop of friends, the choicest old 
 wines, the rarest London porter, the first box of straw 
 berries, the finest salmon in the market, cucumbers in 
 March, peas in April, beans the first day of May ! If 
 you are sick, it will make a most attentive physician, who 
 will call in a " consulting ' ' brother, at the sight of the 
 most remote danger ; it will make a person stand over 
 you the longest night, and perform any kind of office. If 
 you are asthmatic, it will prop up pillows behind you ; if 
 feverish, it will change your mattresses daily ; if desirous 
 of pleasant sights, it will command the most splendid 
 bouquet, and make Hamburg grapes as plenty as hail 
 stones. If you are lonely, it will bring you a choice 
 companion for the hour, week, month, or life even. If 
 you are old, it will induce a pretty little girl of seventeen 
 to marry you. If you are desirous of travelling, it will 
 procure you the best berth in the steamship, and most re 
 markable attention during the passage, and whenever 
 you land. It will give you the best pew in the church, 
 and the most commanding influence in the congregation. 
 All the weekly and daily journals can lie on your table, 
 and you can make even an editor happy by your sub 
 scription, if he chances to be proprietor of the paper ! 
 
 Now, who undervalues this great good? Why, the 
 clergyman says, "It won't give you the keys to a 
 heavenly inheritance;" and Aunt Judith says, "Your
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 55 
 
 money perishes with you." But all this admits of 
 qualification. If you have opened your hearts to objects 
 of benevolence, if, in your life and in your will, you have 
 alleviated human woe, and mitigated sorrow and disease, 
 who shall say that heavenly treasures have not been pro 
 cured by the wise use of money ? 
 
 Ay, in your life, that is the better way, appropriate 
 some of those accumulating dividends, which so harass 
 your day-dreams, and cause you to toss so uneasily at 
 night, lest you should not reinvest them in a productive 
 channel. Make somebody or something your favorite 
 object of regard, so that "executors " and " administra 
 tors " need not quibble because the phraseology of your 
 will is not perfectly understood.
 
 COMING EVENTS. 
 
 THE habit of brooding over a coming event is not 
 preparation to meet it. The faithful performance of to 
 day's duty is the truest test that we shall best meet to 
 morrow's trial. Some are forever living in the future ; 
 but this clearly is not the design of our heavenly 
 Father. Else why are we so completely shut out from 
 forthcoming misfortunes ? Why no certain assurances 
 that contemplated happiness will ever arrive 1 Plainly, 
 because it is best it should be so. And herein God has 
 made all alike, both high and low, subject to the. same 
 contingencies. The care he exerts over the beggar is the 
 same as over the monarch and this teaches us the 
 emptiness of earthly honors. 
 
 The fear of death keeps some in perpetual bondage. 
 Now, an event that our Creator has made certain, but 
 indefinite as to time, was not designed to keep us in con 
 tinual servitude. I have duties to perform ; family and 
 social engagements to meet; business wants to be at 
 tended to, and daily employments upon which my physical 
 life depends. I need all the vigor of constitution, all the 
 exercise of mental power, to meet these cares. My time 
 cannot be frittered away in random fancies upon calcu 
 lating chances. I must work ! and if my time has come
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 57 
 
 that I must lie down and die, have I not made better prep 
 aration, by this discharge of present duty, for the retri 
 bution which awaits me ? 
 
 But there .is a preparation. Very true, but it is living 
 as if under the eye of a kind Parent, looking to him for 
 daily strength, and then pressing on to labor. I am to 
 be wise ; the necessary knowledge of my physical 
 frame will induce me to be temperate, and not per 
 vert my powers ; and if, by what we call accident, we are 
 suddenly removed, or linger out in a fitful fever, all is 
 well God has thus ordained the event it came in 
 the right time and place, because it was his ordination. 
 
 A little child visited its mother's tomb. It had been 
 told her that her mother lay in a sweet sleep. Thinking 
 it could wake her, it shouted in its tiny voice, " Mother, 
 dear mother, let me into your little room. Call me, 
 mother ; I would be with you ; it is so cold and stormy 
 here, and so quiet and warm in your little room. Do, 
 mother, let me in. Once you took my little hand and 
 held it fast. Take me again as you did once. They tell 
 me you cannot hear but where is heaven ? Here is 
 my mother." 
 
 An aged woman sat by the same tomb, and wept. " My 
 daughter," said she, "how I wish I were quiet and happy 
 like thee ; thou art pure as an angel, and art gone to 
 dwell with them. But I fear to enter the dark portals, 
 lest my spirit should be separated from thine ; for, alas ! I 
 have not lived like thee." 
 
 We should live so that the grave our Redeemer has 
 hallowed should appear as the gate to Eternal Mansions.
 
 MONDAY MORNING. 
 
 MONDAY morning ! The most trying dawn of all tho 
 week ! The quiet Sabbath has just passed, and a new 
 week of vexations has commenced. It is washing-day ! 
 The cook is cross ; the chamber-maid has a beau who 
 keeps late hours, and discontent sits upon her brow on 
 Monday. John, the eldest boy, says he feels ill, and 
 does not care to go to school. This frets Emma, the lit 
 tle girl, who thinks, if Johnny is allowed to stay at home, 
 she may as well have the headache, and stay too. The 
 breakfast dishes are all on the table, unwashed, and Alice 
 says it is none of her work to clean them, and Phebe 
 says that chamber-girls never do it in " genteel families." 
 A quarrel ensues ; the washing gets behindhand, and 
 the mistress perceives, just as she steps below to give 
 orders for dinner, that she must encounter wry looks and 
 short answers, although she is not conscious of any 
 special fault. Added to this, the husband has discovered 
 a hole under the arm of his coat, that he wishes his wife 
 to darn very nicely, and a few stitches are to be taken 
 in that fob-pocket, and a few more in cording anew the 
 bottom of his pantaloons ; and in the mean time he in 
 quires "if it AYOuld be convenient to invite Mr. Simonds
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 59 
 
 to dinner 'I " Just as if, on washing-day, any food could 
 be thought about, unless it be a " picked up " dinner ! 
 
 The reign of disorder in the kitchen now increases ; 
 the process of starching is commenced ; there is great 
 haste to " hang out," and little care to rub clean, and a 
 gentle hint from the mistress brings down a shoAver of 
 abuse from the domestics, who declare every family in 
 the city sends away all nice garments to the laundry, and 
 intimate that hereafter they expect to be treated as other 
 domestics. 
 
 The children have fretted the morning away. John went 
 out to skate, about the middle of the forenoon, and grew 
 sick at his stomach, and is a fit subject for water-gruel 
 a beverage he despises. Emma has broken her doll's face, 
 which she promised papa she would keep forever, if he 
 would buy it for a " Christmas present ; " and, to com 
 plete the vexation, some " dear friends " from the country 
 have come in just to deposit their baggage, get their food, 
 and do some shopping. 
 
 Madam goes down to regulate affairs in the region 
 of discord. The bell rings, and some of her genteel 
 acquaintances have called ; she would not but be dressed 
 in silk, for the world, to receive them ; so she departs 
 hastily to her dressing-room, attires herself like a lady, 
 and is only mortified by a chattering little fellow, who 
 says, " Ma is getting dinner down stairs, but she went 
 up to dress her just now." And what a meeting ! 
 
 " How glad I am to see you, my dear Mrs. H. ! " 
 
 " No more so than I am to find you at home. Now 
 I really hope I have not interfered with any domestic 
 engagement."
 
 60 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 " Not in the least; I am perfectly at leisure; have 
 nothing in the world to do." 
 
 " How were you pleased at the Philharmonic, or the 
 Musical Fund, or the Handel and Haydn ? " 
 
 "0! delighted." 
 
 Just then Mr. H. opens the door, and has come to din 
 ner. The ladies retire. I will not portray the continua 
 tion of the scene. Suffice it to say, there is a magic 
 charm which the serene countenance of the husband can 
 diffuse, so that when gathered around a less expensive 
 dinner than yesterday, the agreeable turn he can give his 
 conversation shall leave all the discomforts of the morn 
 ing in the distance. 
 
 Monday, then, has its alleviations. " After a storm 
 there comes the calm." The domestics become better 
 pleased ; evening finds all things righted ; life is not 
 looked upon as in the morning, and we set out afresh, 
 regardless of whatever trials may darken the successive 
 days, well assured that no morning will be half so try 
 ing as this same Monday.
 
 MRS. PELL'S EXPERIMENT. 
 
 THE entire wish of Mrs. Pell's heart had long been to 
 remove into the country. She had taken so many after 
 noon rides, passing by white cottages covered with honey 
 suckle and woodbine ; she had looked upon so many 
 open piazzas, where rocking-chairs and rocking-horses 
 composed the furniture of such shady retreats, and her 
 mind was so entirely fixed upon trying the experiment, 
 that General Pell had little peace until her wishes were 
 fully carried out. So when " Rosebrier Cottage "was 
 advertised, General Pell was the purchaser. Mrs. Pell 
 was, at this time, the most blithe and delightful woman 
 to be found. She was about to relinquish her city cares ; 
 to vacate her large granite house ; to make an overturn in 
 her domestic arrangements, and move into the country. 
 We must do justice to Mrs. Pell's character ; therefore 
 we must not leave out of sight an avaricious propensity, 
 which ever led her to count the cost before undertaking 
 any great outlay. It was a long time, therefore, before 
 she settled in her mind what would be a proper sum for 
 the occupant of her city dwelling. She thought the dif 
 ference in rent between city and country, with economy, 
 would defray all the household expenses in her new 
 home. General Pell was not such a nice calculator ; he 
 6
 
 62 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 was a military man, and when a heavy demand was 
 made upon his purse to support his office, he never 
 flinched, and it was in part to keep him more at home, 
 away from such enjoyments, that Mrs. Pell had been 
 induced to try the change. Then, again, the health of 
 her children was another prime consideration. Arthur 
 was just recovering from the effects of a whooping-cough, 
 and Billy always was afflicted with some complaint inci 
 dent and attendant upon hot weather. Her physician 
 had for several years ordered them into the country dur 
 ing the rage of dog-days, and Mrs. Pell, and her chil 
 dren and servants, had not found so much comfort in 
 staying by the sea-shore, or living at the " Springs," as 
 some other ladies. Those heavy payments at the close 
 of the term were a great drawback upon her enjoyment ; 
 for she was mistress of her own purse, from property 
 inherited in her own right ; so General Pell never con 
 tradicted or advised contrary to her preconceived plans. 
 
 The removal to "Rosebrier Cottage" was, in itself, 
 quite an event in Mrs. Pell's life. The general had 
 found a tenant for the city residence, a member of the 
 company whom he once commanded, and a five years' 
 lease was drawn ; the general, however, reserving the 
 privilege of one chamber in the mansion for his private 
 use ; so that when over-fatigued, or fearful, it might be, 
 of a Caudle lecture, he could have a retreat where he 
 could lie down in peace. 
 
 "Rosebrier Cottage" was just off from the great road ; 
 down a verdant lane, bordered on each side with shrub 
 bery. Just the spot where a romantic couple would 
 dream of living upon ethereal substances, forgetting all
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 63 
 
 about vulgar bodily wants. But Mrs. Pell had a differ 
 ent taste arid a different family. She lived for her chil 
 dren now, and for her husband when he was with her. 
 But, in this chosen retreat, for the first time in her life, 
 she began to feel the effects of solitude. The nursery 
 maid had charge of the two boys, and in their gym 
 nastic exercises and rural sports she could not largely 
 participate. 
 
 The cottage was darkly shaded by heavy trees ; there 
 was a sombre look even in the sunshine, which reflected 
 only quivering branches waving against the Venetian 
 blinds ; there was a deep silence, save when broken by the 
 sound of the children's voices, and altogether a sense of 
 loneliness crept over the new inmates of the cottage. Gen 
 eral Pell, when at home, left early in the morning, and 
 never returned till evening. So the dinner-table was 
 headed by Mrs. Pell and her two children. To keep 
 them under wholesome restraint was an impossibility ; 
 they would take advantage of their father's absence, and 
 a scene of wild disorder generally led the nursery-maid 
 to remove them from the table before the second course 
 was brought on ; and to a lonely woman in a lone cottage 
 the attraction of a country home may be imagined. One 
 cannot twist wreaths of flowers the long day. Few are 
 listless enough to sit for hours at an open window to 
 hear the robins sing ; and, after all the bustle of city life, 
 such profound quiet is but "inglorious ease," without 
 friendly companionship. 
 
 It was a long while before Mrs. Pell's city friends 
 found their way to " Rosebrier Cottage." She had not 
 been pressing in her invitation that they should do so,
 
 64 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOAYS. 
 
 and so they sparingly came. Even then, there was a 
 sort of discomfort about receiving them ; there was no 
 market near ; she found it difficult to keep a cook, on 
 account of the retired situation. There were few to con 
 sume the products of the market, and, as the general was 
 seldom at home, the dinner dwindled into a very common 
 affair. So a friend to pass the day, although it some 
 what relieved the monotony, yet abated the pleasure by 
 the effort to wait on her. 
 
 But how were the children progressing ? They were 
 quite as liable to illness as before. Arthur, from ex 
 posure to damp evening air, had several times been 
 threatened with the croup, and Billy had broken one 
 arm, through the nursery-maid's carelessness, of course, 
 besides being subject to some chronic difficulties, wholly 
 attributable to the location of "Rosebrier Cottage." 
 The general, too, had been absent on duty the most 
 of the summer ; and Mrs. Pell began to wonder why 
 the charms of a country life were so incomplete. She 
 was certain she enjoyed nothing. The days seemed 
 to her of interminable length ; she had read all her 
 books ; she had even studied newspaper advertisements ; 
 she had hemstitched all her ruffles, and as to great care 
 upon her own wardrobe, who but the croaking frogs, the 
 chattering swallows, and the whippoorwills regarded her 
 apparel ? Ah ! she had made a mistake, and we will tell 
 you how she made it. 
 
 In the first place, her avaricious spirit led her to 
 imagine a home in the country would be a more economi 
 cal affair ; secondly, she misjudged her husband's taste. 
 And, hereafter, let no woman imagine, if the charms she
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 65 
 
 can throw about a city home are not sufficient to retain 
 a husband there as his chosen resort, that leaving him 
 among the high spirits he covets, will ever win him over 
 to rural felicity. Then, as to the matter of children's 
 health, there is no security against disease, where pa 
 rental care is improperly bestowed or wholly entrusted to 
 servants ; and, last of all, it is never the part of wisdom 
 for a wife to make a distinction between "mine and 
 thine," hoping thereby to increase mutual esteem. 
 
 General Pell returned late in the autumn from one of 
 his tours. "Rosebrier Cottage" had a forlorn look 
 outwardly. The long, trailing vines were craving sup 
 port. The gardener had long since left the place. Mrs. 
 Pell was a mere skeleton ; and the boys were wild, un 
 governable, and unrestrained by parental discipline. But 
 one domestic (the nursery-woman) remained on duty, 
 and she received extra pay for doing so. The general 
 met his wife in tears ; but knowing it was not discreet to 
 commence any comments upon the obvious condition of 
 things, he waited until her proud spirit yielded, and 
 importuned his assistance. 
 
 A new house was taken in the city ; soon after, Gen 
 eral Pell resigned his commission, and Mrs. Pell en 
 trusted him with the investment of her money, and this 
 repose of confidence led him to financier in the best 
 possible manner, since their interests had now become a 
 mutual afiair. Since then he is much at home, and the 
 perfect discipline with which he has controlled those 
 wayward boys has convinced the mother which of the 
 two is the better fitted to enforce obedience. Mrs. Pell 
 has never since attempted to manage her family concerns 
 C*
 
 66 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 alone, having been taught the folly of seeking to control 
 a husband and household, without having first laid the 
 foundation upon mutual confidence and esteem. 
 
 The thought of her first experiment to live in the 
 country, in a sort of half-fledged condition, always man 
 tles her cheeks with the blush of shame ; but her repent 
 ance was deep enough to effect a cure. We would not, 
 however, deem it amiss to say a word to other Mrs. Pells, 
 who are sighing for Rosebrier Cottages as the ultimatum 
 of their hopes. We would by no means disparage the 
 many pleasures connected with such a residence ; but 
 that they have serious trials to encounter, who go without 
 forethought, admits of no doubt. The business of the 
 husband not unfrequently renders such retirement a 
 great inconvenience ; he cannot be much at home while 
 his children are actively employed ; the etiquette of the 
 table is too often neglected ; the privileges of good 
 schools are sometimes renounced ; life too often degener 
 ates into a mere holiday ; and, some philosophers will 
 have it, women become imperious by being unrestrained 
 in gayety. Therefore, we would recommend to all hus 
 bands and wives to seek their pleasures as far as possible 
 together ; never separate enjoyment from each other's 
 society ; but, above all things, if you sustain the parental 
 relation, live where you can live most with your chil 
 dren ; if your inclination and means suggest a country 
 home, seek it, but never disjoin the two.
 
 THE PAST YOUNG MAN. 
 
 THE " fast young man" does not remember where his 
 father was born, nor what was his occupation. The slow 
 means by which he gained his wealth is all an enigma 
 to him. He stepped into his silver slippers when he died, 
 and has worn them half out before he has arrived at 
 years of discretion. 
 
 What a swell he makes ! Money has made him some 
 what popular with the upper ten ; and the daughters of 
 former shoemakers, barbers, and wine-merchants, who 
 lived under ground, and "sold by the glass," now look 
 upon him as a " nice young man ;" and to be sure he is. 
 His dickey is transparent with waxy gloss ; his wristbands 
 protude below his cufis just far enough to show their 
 quality ; over his vest is displayed such an elegant mas 
 sive California gold chain, that it- is very pardonable to 
 speak about it. Besides, he is so generous ! If he meets 
 a young lady, he forthwith conducts her to a confection 
 er's to take an " ice," or a cup of smoking Mocha ; there 
 the invitation is extended to a concert, then an opera ; 
 and, by this time, both have lost their natural vision, and 
 can only see through expensive " eye-tubes." 
 
 But the fast young man has money, and what does he
 
 68 SUBSTANCE ANJJ SHADOWS. 
 
 care for labor, and old women's talk about the " road to 
 ruin " ? His motto is, " one life and a merry one." 
 
 At the expiration of five years we will look at him 
 again. He has now lost much of the " dandy," and be 
 gins to exhibit quite a " seedy" appearance. His gait 
 is stiff; he lounges at the corners of the street, or is found 
 sitting, stooping and stupid, upon the loafer's bench ; has 
 quit those "divine young ladies." or, rather, they have 
 left him, and he begins to think his prospects for the 
 future are rather cloudy. If he could but raise an outfit, 
 he would gladly take passage to Australia ; but if he has 
 a friend (generally he has none), as soon as he suggests 
 the idea of borrowing enough for "a start," he is hushed 
 by the reply, " Why, to a person of your habits that 
 climate would soon prove fatal." Now, what hopes can 
 he entertain ? The past has been all wasted ; the present 
 finds him minus of character, cash, and credit ; the future 
 lies before him with a diseased, bloated body, filled with 
 pains, and nobody to sympathize with him ; and, beyond 
 this world, he so dreads a retribution, that he envies the 
 very dumb animal. He did not mean to finish off in this 
 manner when he started in life.
 
 SPEECH-MAKING. 
 
 WHY is it that our most talented public speakers arc 
 forever apologizing, in the outset, for appearing before 
 the " vast and intelligent audience" 1 You mav travel 
 from one end of the continent to the other, and, in nine 
 cases out of ten, when the great man rises to speak, he 
 will tell you " the call was unexpected;" or that " he is 
 miserably jaded with the fatigue of a long journey;" or 
 " that he has made no sort of preparation for a speech," 
 which he all the while intends shall electrify a whole 
 multitude. I wonder if public speakers think they thus 
 impose on their hearers, and get up a true sympathizing 
 spirit for their professedly unsound condition ? Why not 
 tell the real state of their minds, if an exordium is so 
 needful to going on with what they mean to say, and 
 prepare their remarks something after this manner ? 
 
 " I rise, my friends, because I feel strongly inclined 
 to do so, knowing the power I possess, and the eloquence 
 for which I am distinguished ; this props me up amidst 
 all the privations and fatigue attendant upon coming 
 before you. Fame (that is, popular favor) I covet, 
 yet I would not be accounted vain or filled with self- 
 esteem." 
 
 Every man should have a certain quantum of self-
 
 70 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 conceit ; for, after being repeatedly told that his talents 
 are of the highest order, that he is remarkable for logical 
 precision, and always bringing the strong points in his 
 subject forward, so that they leave an overwhelming im 
 pression upon the audience, how can he forget such enco 
 miums when he next rises in a crowded assembly ? 
 
 Now, did a public speaker know how distasteful to an 
 audience are his first apologies, he would never make 
 them. If he is unprepared, why does he say anything 1 
 If he is hoarse, he need not tell of it. If he is tired, 
 nobody can help it. Could he but see (I mean the 
 apologizing man) how his best friends twirl their canes, 
 or pick the fingers of their gloves, or look suspiciously 
 into their neighbors' faces, there would be few who would 
 venture to begin with talking about themselves. 
 
 We have sometimes fancied we saw a wag coming upon 
 the stage, after all the speakers had apologized for address 
 ing the audience, and, although not in very good taste 
 to a refined assembly, yet commencing something 
 like this : " My friends, I am exceedingly glad to have 
 this opportunity to utter my sentiments. I know I am a 
 good speaker. I love your applause, for it excites my 
 eloquence. I have no cold or disease which now troubles 
 me. I am not weary, for I have rested on purpose to 
 appear before you in a healthy condition. I am, there 
 fore, anxious to do my best. I trust the reporters will 
 so herald my speech that my breakfast to-morrow morn 
 ing may be swallowed with a seasoning of just praise, 
 which I feel is my due ; for I well know my superiority 
 above all who have preceded me ; besides, I always aim 
 to leave a most powerful impression ; my wit is not stale
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 71 
 
 and my reasoning is not overdone. My manner is unex 
 ceptionable, for I have practised some years to acquire it, 
 and my personal appearance is dignified and imposing." 
 
 Can we be reproached as satirical if we appropriate 
 much of what the wag has uttered, as being the real 
 sentiment of many an apologist ? 
 
 Let us have the truth ; and, although a wise man will 
 repress his vanity, yet let him not covet a sympathy to 
 which he is not entitled, when his whole life-time has 
 been a preparation for extemporaneous speech-making.
 
 WEALTH WITH INDOLENCE. 
 
 WEALTH ! Young ladies are prone to pay too much 
 regard to riches. They seek showy rather than virtuous 
 companions. A massive chain, an opal ring, a certain 
 dandyish pretension, is extremely taking with some well- 
 educated ladies. The young man who is unassuming, 
 and slowly makes his way to fortune by untiring indus 
 try, is too often cast in the shade. Yet we will follow 
 the two a few years, and most probably the one whom 
 we cast aside will be considered the most useful citizen. 
 Women err strangely in forming marriage engagements. 
 They may not be altogether in fault here ; for does not 
 mamma, ay, and papa too, often inquire, is he rich? 
 as if this were the saving clause. 
 
 An heir to a large estate lately married a poor girl. 
 Every one looked on with the highest satisfaction. ' ' How 
 fortunate ! " was in the mouth of all her friends. But the 
 young husband had nothing to do ; he wasted life in a 
 public hotel, or he travelled to some watering-place, and 
 the long dog-days were spent in brushing flies, or 
 driving musquitoes. The wife fell into indolent habits, 
 and, from having nothing to do, learned to do nothing. 
 Some called it a state of elegant ease ; nobody found 
 fault, because, where bills are paid, and plenty of money
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 73 
 
 is left, the world will not complain. But as to the real 
 happiness of such a life, it admits no comparison with that 
 of those who started in life poor but hopeful, combating 
 disappointment, and rising by degrees to an abundance ; 
 learning how to use and enjoy, and in the very acquisi 
 tion deriving more pleasure than in fruition. For thus 
 are we made, constantly finding new pleasure with new 
 acquisition ; and no sooner do we sit down to enjoy our 
 wealth, than we find it insufficient to fill the vacuity. 
 
 For this reason people who retire from active busi 
 ness with scanty mental resources are rarely happy. 
 They find a satiety they never knew in business : and I 
 lament when I hear a wife so urgent that her husband 
 should build a cottage and live upon his money as if 
 idleness and ease made pleasure. 
 7
 
 THOUGHTS FOR THE GLOOMY. 
 
 IN the midst of the autumnal tinge I walk out in the 
 country to revive the association of the past. It is not 
 my taste to groan and sigh over the decay of nature. 
 On the contrary, my thoughts are lively and buoyant. 
 What is there to make one sad ? All things that are 
 dying we know will be again revived, and many of them 
 will put on far more beautiful forms. The trees, like 
 our bodies, will soon have a resurrection, and be clothed 
 with fresher beauty. Why. then, mourn if disease invades 
 our frame ? What if it should yield to the influence of 
 this or that malady ? Can we not trust to the beneficent 
 decrees of our Maker, who so planned the structure that 
 from its present ruins an incorruptible clothing may be 
 put upon it 1 Our thoughts need not be sad and enervat 
 ing, cheating us of all pleasure in the present, and fore 
 boding only gloom in the future. We cherish such 
 pernicious feelings until life becomes the most unpalat 
 able drug, and yet we shrink from quitting it, so dis 
 trustful are we of the kind care which placed us here. 
 0, it is painful to hear some Christian people complain 
 of " inflictions," and " their hard lot," all the while they 
 are themselves making it so ! 
 
 Autumn is thought particularly to awaken these
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 75 
 
 gloomy sensations. It need not be so. A new scene 
 opens on us ; our eyes are dazzled with the fading land 
 scape ; its purple and gold touch the heart with delight. 
 I feel as if in holiday attire. To be sure, the flower 
 beds are stricken down ; the broad sunflowers no longer 
 wave majestically; the pinks and peonies have disap 
 peared, but the box- tree is still as verdant as ever, the 
 pine-tree maintains its greenness, and there is always 
 something about me which retains its original. What 
 if I muse unconsciously ? I am not sad. 
 
 I remember that flower-garden, once my delight as I 
 conveyed the water-pot to refresh it ; how the scions and 
 slips I procured grew fair and strong under my skilful 
 training. They gave me satisfaction then, and the 
 retrospect does so now. There, too, stood the kitchen 
 garden. 
 
 The vegetables I so faithfully attended, yielded me 
 their reward. They grew luxuriantly, and the recol 
 lection of those evening strolls, when I marked their 
 progress, now yields me pleasure. I cannot sigh because 
 they answered those uses, and are gathered and gone. 
 My eyes are now opened to other scenes. The lively 
 recollection of the past inspires me with hope for the 
 future. Yonder is a boy flying his kite. I cannot say, 
 " Poor fellow, I used to amuse myself like you ; but that 
 day of merriment will no more return to me ! " I feel 
 merry now. I can recall rny fluttering emotions when I 
 first let go the string, and I gazed to see it soar among 
 the clouds. To be sure, I have a different stock of fears 
 and hopes at this time, and these may yield me, if not
 
 76 SUBSTANCE AND ^SHADOWS. 
 
 so airy, quite as substantial pleasure. So why should I 
 mourn that I can no longer fly a kite ? 
 
 We are always straining after some enjoyment beyond 
 our reach, away in the distance. Some are longing for the 
 season of winter gayeties, living on expectation of future 
 parties, balls, lectures and the like ; but such people never 
 enjoy the now of existence. Retrospect and anticipa 
 tion is the sum of all their pleasures. Give me a lively 
 hope to sustain me to-day. I care not what season I am 
 living in. When we cease to be children toys should no 
 longer amuse us. 
 
 More than half the world are diseased, but they are 
 not all filled with bodily maladies which a prescription 
 will cure. They are mind-sick, and this is a malady 
 drugs never reach. Narcotics, to be sure, may deaden 
 sensibilities, but they do not give healthful vigor. I 
 would rather do the most menial work, if I could only 
 breathe a pure atmosphere, than cramp my faculties in 
 devising schemes to make me happy at some distant 
 period. To-day is all that I can call my own, and I 
 must be busy in its sunshine. " But," says the croaker, 
 ' ' my days are all cloudy ; I have had no sunshine since I 
 was a child." Again I repeat, the fault is your own. 
 
 What do you gain by moping over your troubles ? 
 "You cannot help it," do you reply? You never will 
 help it, so long as you permit yourself to dwell upon 
 and talk about them. Do your own work faithfully, and 
 have something ever on hand to do ; keep up a cheerful 
 exterior ; and, nine times out of ten, you will cure the 
 malady of which you complain.
 
 SUNSHINE AND CLOUDS. 
 
 SUNSHINE and clouds ! How beautifully they succeed 
 each other in the natural world ! The heavy cloud which 
 rises in yonder western horizon emits flashes of lightning 
 which almost removes our natural sight; and that low 
 muttering report, which follows so closely upon it, shows 
 to us with what majesty nature reveals herself. By and 
 by comes the fertilizing shower, and the little, fainting, 
 parched twig has a rain-drop upon its tiny leaf, and 
 although the sun has come forth in its full splendor, the 
 tear still glitters, and every hue of the rainbow is 
 reflected from it. 
 
 Why is it not thus with the showers of affliction which 
 are poured upon us ? They are surely designed for a far 
 higher end than the natural shower; for that waters only 
 a parched earth, which will soon become thirsty and crave 
 it again ; whereas the shower of tear-drops which bruises 
 our spirits carries with it the blessed influence of healing, 
 which should so fertilize our Christian graces, as to need 
 no repetition ; but, like the varied hues of the rainbow, 
 which are so blended that no one color takes precedence 
 of the other, so the blended and harmonious mingling of 
 the rain-drops of affliction should be irradiated by the sun 
 of righteousness, that a perfect bow should span the 
 horizon of our souls. 
 7*
 
 THE COUNTRY IN WINTER. 
 
 A WINTER'S residence in the country is much more 
 than it is usually accounted to mean. To one especially, 
 who does business in the city, some three, five, or ten 
 miles off, the privileges are peculiar ; the cars are so 
 convenient and accommodating withal. You may miss 
 seeing the man with whom you have business, a dozen 
 times in a day ; he may state the hour you can see him, 
 but the train leaves just ten minutes before that time ; 
 or you may conclude to stay over one train, and what 
 confusion is made in the home where you were an ex 
 pected guest ! How the little ones clamor for " turkey 
 and bread," not to say a word of the mother-in-law, 
 who, perchance, is fretting and knitting in the corner, 
 "wondering how people can expect to do business in one 
 place, and keep themselves in another;" or the wife 
 goes sighing through the room with a look of anxiety in 
 her face, "hoping there is no accident to-day;" and, 
 as she looks out, there is her neighbor who has been 
 home and dined, and is ready for a fresh start ; and Miss 
 Muggins has happened from the city to spend the day 
 just at the time you were wanting in butter and minus in 
 groceries, and you buy everything in the city, where your 
 husband has an account. And then the children behave
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 79 
 
 
 
 so when their father is absent ; they are so boisterous. 
 And when it is so cheerless within, as you look without, 
 how the blues creep over you ! 
 
 The old flower-stalks are all empty and dry, the 
 grass all brown and crisped, the vines all tangled and 
 overgrown with dead weed, the trees all dismantled, and 
 the leaves heaved up like little mountains, awaiting a 
 high gust to send them in mid air like snow-flakes ; and, 
 then, to break the monotony, there is the hissing of the 
 tea-kettle, and the low kind of second which "Maggie" is 
 continually singing, and, more than all, your meditations 
 on this wise : "Why did I ever think of living in the 
 country the year round 1 Why, for the health of the 
 children, to be sure. And how has it proved ? ' Ned 7 
 has had the scarlet fever, and little ' Nell ' the whoop 
 ing-cough, and we were obliged to send into the city to 
 get our old physician (all practise on the new principle out 
 here) ; and who cares for a fee, when a child's life is at 
 stake ? Well, then, as we were here, why, the plea of 
 economy is urged, and a cheaper rent. How much 
 cheaper 1 One hundred dollars less than AVC paid in the 
 city, where conveniences were much more compact. 
 Wood, water and drains all in a heap here. We are ex 
 posed to cold, sunshine and observation ; our next neigh 
 bor exactly facing all our domestic operations, and always 
 happening to be looking at us just as we would avoid 
 scrutiny. Then the children must trudge half a mile to 
 school, and when Sunday comes, in what a state we find 
 ourselves ! No Sunday-school very near ; omnibus to 
 take us to the city, but who can get ready seasonably '? 
 Besides, the children's shoes are out of order, and the
 
 80 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 lacings are broken, and father forgot 'the memorandum' 
 we so charged him to remember, and Maggie must go 
 to church part of the day, and hints she prefers to live 
 in the city, where she can attend mass in the morning. 1 ' 
 
 And, then, it is so delightful to attend lectures, and 
 concerts, and parties of all sorts in the city ; to go to 
 some friend's house and "fix," after riding in the omni 
 bus. bringing the baby atop of your best silk dress. 
 and to stay till midnight, find omnibus gone, and obliged 
 to accept invitation to stay all night ; to rise headachy, 
 and put on your nice dress, and go home to find every 
 thing helter-skelter ; and have your husband's mother 
 meet you in the front-door passage, and inform you 
 "that Billy hurt his leg last night, and Polly was very 
 restless, and John has been a bad boy," and to feel that 
 this is your home. 0, it is worth a great deal to live in 
 the country all the year round ! 
 
 Again, it is so pleasant, Avhen your husband does 
 not come home to dinner, to take his place and help some 
 half dozen lady guests, who are " so fond of the country 
 that they have come to pass the dayAvith you," although 
 when in the city they never thought of more than a call ! 
 To sit and hear their admiration of your tasteful place, 
 and " the lovely spot it must be in summer," and, per 
 chance, hear the conclusion, "but it is so dull, we 
 never could live in the country in the winter." 
 
 Then the snow-storm ! To inhabit a house facing clue 
 north, with a large hall on either side the parlors, where 
 the ^Eolian harps constantly are played ! To wake in 
 the morning arid find the house blockaded, the snow still 
 falling, and no vestige of a road visible, and to feel that
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 81 
 
 your husband has got to face the weather, and break the 
 paths, and thaw the pumps, and dig out some wood, and 
 that he must go, for he has a note at the bank to pay, 
 and you have such a dread of protested notes that you 
 are willing he should make the sacrifice. 
 
 More than all, to feel that the die is cast, that you 
 have actually bought this home in the country, and so 
 have no changes to anticipate ; no returning summer can 
 find you again at board by the seashore ; no plea can be 
 urged for a healthful mountain region, for the selection 
 was so made as to embrace all their salubrious influences, 
 and your husband is so deeply immersed in business that 
 all pleasure-seeking is forever at an end. 
 
 You may expect but few changes. The hinges will 
 rust off the gate, and the blinds Avill need a new coat of 
 paint, and the trellis-work will need repairing, and a 
 kind of decay will come over your outward appearance ; 
 but unless you are hopeful, full of sunshine, love birds 
 and annual plants, and children, and storms, and high 
 winds, and short trips in the cars, and little vexations, 
 and a house of your own, my advice is, never live in 
 the country the year round, when your business is in 
 the city! 

 
 THE FEMALE FINANCIER. 
 
 " THERE never was a woman who has lived longer on 
 promises than I have, Mr. Oldbuck. More than a year 
 ago, when I told you we must have new parlor carpets, 
 you put me off till the ' election' was over, because then 
 there would be such 'good times,' that I thought Cali 
 fornia and our metropolis would only be another name 
 for the gold region. Now look at it , where are my 
 carpets?" 
 
 "You speak, wife, as if I had the whole control of 
 events. How could I foresee that times would be as they 
 are money at nine and ten per cent., and banks refusing 
 to discount only the best of paper stocks down, and 
 lanufacturing interests at a stand comparatively for the 
 last year, at least short dividends? " 
 
 11 1 wish I were a man, Mr. Oldbuck, and I'll war 
 rant you I would have things different. Do you suppose 
 / would have served on ward committees during all that 
 exciting campaign to elect a President, attended cau 
 cuses, carried torch-lights, and given such entertainments, 
 and, after all, be turned off without an office ? This is 
 the world's gratitude, Mr. Oldbuck. No ; when I was in 
 Washington, I would have kept there till I got some 
 thing, if I had stayed a whole year to accomplish my 
 purpose."
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 83 
 
 "You reason very foolishly, wife. Did I not secure 
 all the testimonials of my ability for an office 1 Did I 
 not go to great expense, and wait until ' hope deferred 
 made my heart sick,' as Miss Kemble said last night? 
 And did you not say I had better return and mind my 
 own business ? " 
 
 " What if / did ? If I had been a man, I should have 
 had more courage, I '11 warrant ye. I would have made 
 the President pay for all the champagne and time I had 
 spent in his behalf, if I had filched it out of his own 
 pockets." 
 
 " Ypu would ! Well, well, I did not, and so let tha 
 matter rest." 
 
 " But, I tell you, I want some new carpets." 
 
 "When my dividends warrant it, wife, you shall 
 have them. You know, as well as I do, how ' stocks ' 
 stand now no agitation in the market, no time to sell, 
 and no time to buy." 
 
 " You are a fool, Mr. Oldbuck, to let your broker 
 serve you such a game. Have you lost all confidence in 
 your own judgment, that you must trust to him when it 
 is best to ' sell out ' or ' buy in ' 1 He '11 fleece you as 
 clean as old Ichabod Gammon was served." 
 
 " Gammon, Gammon who was he ? " 
 
 "Why, my Uncle Ichabod, to be sure. Didn't he 
 employ a broker to invest all his money, and didn't he 
 keep changing stocks, and crying up this, and down that, 
 until at last all his property got in the worsted mill, till 
 it worsted him, poor old man, out of all he had ? And 
 your fate will be no better, Mr. Oldbuck, if you don't 
 turn about and do your own business in your own way."
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 "What would you have had me do with the money I 
 had, wife?" 
 
 "Let it out in the street, to be sure; if money is 
 worth twelve and twenty per cent., take it in State street, 
 and when you found a man ' hard pinched,' as you call 
 it, let it to him on time, with good security." 
 
 " Heigh-ho ! " sighed Mr. Oldbuck. " When I in 
 vest again you shall certainly be consulted, wife." 
 
 " After it is all gone, and the time to get extra inter 
 est is gone by, I suppose I may take it. After stocks 
 have gone down twenty per cent., and you have lost five 
 thousand on this, and ten thousand on that, I suppose 
 you would be very glad to have me undertake and clear 
 up things, just as I regulate a disordered house, or repair 
 a suit of old clothes ; but, Mr. Oldbuck, this is not my 
 place nor work. I married you to look after out-door 
 concerns while I attend to the house." 
 
 There was to be a house auction the next day. A 
 suit of Brussels carpets were to be sold, that had been 
 down but two years, and the size exactly fitted Mrs. 
 Oldbuck's drawing-rooms. She had never been at an 
 auction, but her neighbor Grimshaw had often showed 
 her great bargains she had procured. She thought she 
 would ask her to accompany her, and if she got a decided 
 bargain (as she felt confident she should), there would 
 be no trouble but her husband could raise the money to 
 pay for her purchases. The plan met with her neigh 
 bor's entire approval, and early the next morning both 
 ladies were at the sale. There were some bedsteads of 
 beautiful finish, some mattresses, and a number of articles 
 which exactly filled Mrs. Oldbuck's eye, to furnish anew
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 85 
 
 her spare chamber. She resolved she would get some 
 bargains, at any rate ; they were ' ' so new, so little 
 soiled, so exactly what she wanted ; " her vision magni 
 fied every time she looked upon them, and it was with 
 the greatest impatience she waited for the auctioneer to 
 - come to the articles she meant to bid upon. At length 
 the carpets were put up. 
 
 ' ' How much am I offered for these beautiful car 
 pets?" inquired the shrewd auctioneer "new, clean, 
 beautiful pattern, and been used but two years, without a 
 stain or spot." 
 
 " One dollar per yard," said Mrs. Oldbuck. 
 
 Neighbor Grimshaw touched her "You are too fast 
 
 don't bid again." 
 
 ' ' One dollar five cents ten twelve I am offered 
 
 who says more for this splendid bargain? " 
 " Seven shillings," said Mrs. Oldbuck. 
 
 "One dollar twenty-five," hallooed an anxious by- 
 bidder. 
 
 -"One thirty," shouted Mrs. Oldbuck; and, nobody 
 saying more, the carpets were knocked down to Mrs. 
 Jedediah Oldbuck. " What a bargain ! " said she to 
 Mrs. Grimshaw. " I guess my husband will be " 
 
 " Did you know, madam," said a bystander, " that 
 these carpets were badly moth-eaten ? look under that 
 sofa, and in that recess." 
 
 Poor Mrs. Oldbuck ! how changed in a moment of 
 time ! But she comforted herself that she could fit it out 
 to suit her rooms. She was great for contriving, and 
 such a bargain, she still persisted in saying.
 
 86 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 They walked up stairs. "That bedstead solid ma 
 hogany, with slat bottom, how much am I offered?" 
 
 "Ten dollars," said Mrs. Oldbuck. 
 
 Nobody bid over her, it was fairly hers. 
 
 "The mattress a new hair mattress, and how much 
 am I offered," looking at Mrs. Oldbuck (for an auc 
 tioneer knows his company). "Five dollars." "Five 
 dollars for this splendid mattress why, it is giving it 
 away." 
 
 Seven, eight, ten, eleven, twelve, " fifteen," again said 
 Mrs. Oldbuck, greatly advancing on the company ; and 
 it was hers ! And she purchased a bathing-tub, and 
 shower apparatus, and an antique bureau, and some old 
 prints, and a few old chairs; so that in all her bill 
 amounted to two hundred and three dollars and six 
 cents ! 
 
 The articles were all sent home that afternoon, and 
 such a motley exhibition was rarely seen. The same 
 pattern and quality of carpeting was selling at one 
 dollar and twelve cents at retail, the pattern being old- 
 fashioned ; besides, it was so mothy that several yards 
 must be thrown out. The mattress was filled with 
 Avestern hair, and smelt very disagreeably, and cost but 
 six dollars originally ! The bedstead looked as if some 
 occupants had been, and were still, in embryo. The 
 chairs were fit only for a miser's garret, and the shower- 
 bath was broken, and Mrs. Oldbuck' s physician said it 
 never should be used, as showering the head was decid 
 edly injurious to health. 
 
 Mr. Oldbuck came home at twilight, and looked upon 
 the purchases, and then upon his unpaid bill, and then
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 87 
 
 upon the countenance of his wife. He said nothing 
 no, he never did ; she reproached him enough for 
 both. 
 
 Mrs. Oldbuck did not sleep that night. She felt 
 quite sick the next day. The auction furniture still 
 stood in the back kitchen. It was a trying time for 
 Mrs. Oldbuck. 
 
 A week after, Michael, the handcartman, was directed 
 to carry every article to the auction store, to be resold ; 
 and a suit of fashionable tapestry carpets were sent home 
 without any comments. Mrs. Oldbuck gradually re 
 covered. There are certain kinds of mortification which 
 do not prove fatal. Nothing was ever said of her 
 purchases between husband and wife ; but Mrs. Grim- 
 shaw had to " take it," for leading her into such foolish 
 expenditures, and they are no longer neighbors. 
 
 Oldbuck was speaking of the money-market, the other 
 evening, to a friend, when the gentleman addressed him 
 self to Mrs. Oldbuck, saying, " I suppose if you women 
 ruled without, as well as within, we should be saved 
 from all this trouble." 
 
 Mrs. Oldbuck replied, " Female financiers who know 
 how to invest, are rare. I tried it once, and have never 
 complained of my husband since." And think you, 
 reader, that Major Oldbuck ever regretted his wife at 
 tended that auction ? They have lived happily ever 
 since, and not a reproachful word has escaped her lips.
 
 THE EXPRESSMAN. 
 
 How things change in this world ! Hart, the stage- 
 driver, is succeeded by Adams, the expressman. Now, the 
 duties belonging to both these departments are very oner 
 ous. Nobody fully realizes the importance of the calling of 
 the expressman, who has not lived in a country village. 
 Just set yourself down, during a season, in a seven-by- 
 nine village, where there are some half-dozen dress-makers, 
 two or three milliners, a few grocers, and two or three 
 dry goods' shops ; one lawyer, a Universalist, a Metho 
 dist, Freewill Baptist and a Calvinist minister, whose 
 whole members, put into one house, would make a barely 
 respectable congregation. But there is but one express 
 man to attend to all the calls of this little heap of people. 
 
 The milliner wants to match that shade of silk, or to 
 exchange a few shawls she purchased yesterday, for 
 another set of colors, and she has an errand to be done 
 she entirely forgot when in the city ; and the dress-maker 
 wants a new cloak -pattern she has seen advertised, and 
 she negotiates with the expressman to get it for seventy- 
 five cents, because she is one of the trade, and ought to 
 be considered ; and a great trouble comes out of this. 
 The pattern-seller insists on her dollar ; says she knows 
 only one price, and ' ' Miss Bond " is a dress-maker of whom
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 89 
 
 she never heard, and, after the poor fellow has haggled 
 away his precious half-hour, and paid the full price, he 
 must run down on Long Wharf and deliver Mr. Grocer's 
 order, and out into Elm-street to speak for some dried 
 fruit ; and this reminds him the widow Ellery spoke to 
 him a week ago to get her a drum of figs and a box of 
 raisins. Then he must hurry to Washington-street, and 
 leave an order from the dry goods' store for two pieces of 
 nice black silk, to be delivered at a dollar per yard 
 and the partner who sold it " is down town," and there 
 is nobody who knows anything about such a piece ; and 
 then Sophia Blake wants a short lace veil, and Sally Slack 
 sent for a pair of corsets, and the measure was lost ! 
 
 Squire Low wanted some blanks and forms for land 
 conveyances, besides a quire of ruled paper and a small, 
 cheap blank book. Gershom Allen sent for a pair of 
 chickens, "first chop ; " and Solomon Twist wanted a shoul 
 der of mutton. Tom Bowen desired the expressman to 
 step into Boardman's and get a gallon of pure Cognac, 
 and a dozen of Champagne, " Cilley's brand." Mr. 
 Wyeth has not received his newspaper regularly, and 
 sends to the office to get back numbers, and to know the 
 cause of his not receiving them by mail. Old lady Con 
 stant wants a few gift books, under price, for Christmas 
 and New- Year's presents to her grand-children, and like 
 wise to know what good, strong gingham umbrellas are 
 worth. He might give fifty cents for a prime article, 
 with nice whalebone sticks ! Nancy Gerrish wants a 
 muff and boa, but limits the price to five dollars ; and 
 Susan Hart has heard that good Bay State shawls can 
 8*
 
 90 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 be bought for three dollars, and will take one at two 
 seventy-five. 
 
 Added to all these items on the memorandum card is 
 " Call at 676 Washington-street, to get a bundle ; 
 down by Cragie's bridge, for a hat-case ; at the West 
 End to deliver a package, and at the North End for Mrs. 
 Sly's cloak." 
 
 Now, all these errands are expected to be done pre 
 cisely as they are directed, and the small sum of nine- 
 pence is considered a fair charge ; but woe to the man 
 who forgets a single message ! 
 
 Besides, it is expected the expressman will carry about 
 him a sunny countenance, never get vexed with anybody, 
 thank everybody instead of receiving thanks, know 
 every one, and be willing to oblige everybody, because it 
 is his business. No matter how many flouting remarks 
 are made to him, he is not expected to resent them ; and, 
 although he is the most important personage in the vil 
 lage, better than clergyman, lawyer or representative, 
 all of whom could be spared, and not be half as much 
 missed, yet every idle man in the village feels competent 
 to undertake the business of an expressman. In truth, 
 it is an important office, and he who fills it satisfactorily, 
 must be a shrewd, good-natured, obliging, self-sufficient, 
 all-sufficient, but by no means an insufficient man.
 
 PHASES IN MARRIED LIFE. 
 
 ONE may well be amused at the changes which come 
 over some people's domestic and connubial bliss. When 
 we first knew Mr. Fennel, he was a young man of quite 
 prepossessing appearance ; at that time he was engaged 
 to Angeline Bright. I seem to see them now, starting 
 off at early twilight for a walk. Most lovingly and coseyly 
 did they lag along, seeming to have an inexhaustible 
 fund of conversation ; so that, after being together till 
 midnight, ten chances to one they would agree to see 
 each other before noon the next day. 
 
 By and by Mr. Fennel married. There never was a 
 more agreeable honeymoon passed this side of the celes 
 tial regions. They seemed to enjoy each other's society 
 far better than any other ; now they rode out every 
 afternoon, and the old counting-room was deserted, after 
 three o'clock, by the junior partner, much to the annoy 
 ance of the senior one, who used to prophesy, "these 
 things will wear off by and by, when they have been mar 
 ried a few years." The man spoke from experience, and 
 he spoke truly. 
 
 Fifteen years after marriage, you might have seen Mr. 
 Fennel still taking a walk, but his daughter is hanging 
 on his arm, and his wife walks behind, leading the
 
 92 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 little boy. The poor woman seems to have lost that 
 elastic step she once had; she looks faded and care 
 worn, and talks about " Willy's fretfulness, having just 
 cut his teeth ; " and " Margaret Ann is feeble, and they 
 apprehend a spinal difficulty ; ' ' and if you inquire Avhy 
 they do not go into the country and try a change, she 
 will answer, " Bless me, Mr. Fennel is so busy at the 
 store, I scarcely see him from morning till night ! " 
 
 I don't know what ails the man, but he is so abstracted 
 he never gives a positive answer to anybody but his cus 
 tomers, and his wife, when she inquires if it will be con 
 venient to replenish her purse. An old friend occasion 
 ally tells him what a fool he is to be so absorbed in 
 business ; that his wife is much changed, and really 
 looks like an invalid. This for a moment touches him in 
 a tender spot. Perhaps he thinks, if she should die, what 
 a terrible expense it would be to procure a housekeeper, 
 and how much of his time it would take to oversee the 
 household the very thing which has worn her down. 
 So he buys a horse and carriage, and resolves he will 
 give the family an airing once or twice a week. He 
 thinks once in the middle of the week, and Sunday 
 afternoon, he can spare to drive them in the suburbs. 
 But now he is so delighted with his new horse, he ex 
 pects all the family to be continually talking about his 
 good qualities. The children soon get tired of such fre 
 quent rides, and beg the privilege of staying at home, 
 and playing with some of their school-fellows. 
 
 The next year, Mr. Fennel carries his wife to ride in 
 a chaise. She is much emaciated, and has a hollow cough 
 now. Still, he is accustomed to it, and, as she is uncom-
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 93 
 
 plaining, he does not apprehend anything more than a con 
 stitutional ailment. And as they ride, she is weary and 
 does not care to talk ; and he is thinking about some bad 
 debts, or about dismissing his book-keeper ; and when 
 she inquires who lives in some splendid palace which they 
 are passing by, he invariably answers, " I am sure I 
 dunno ; " then, perchance, he gives a long gape. How 
 interesting ! 
 
 Mrs. Fennel won't live a great while, but still there is 
 no fear but he can get another companion, "he is such a 
 nice man, and so attentive to his business." Lady 
 reader, would you fancy Mr. Fennel for a husband ?
 
 "AND SO FORTH." 
 
 TRULY, a mighty wide margin should be allowed for 
 all " and so forth" includes. It gives the closing zest to 
 much of some people's conversation ; it is the finale of the 
 speech-maker, the end of the delineator, and affords the 
 most ample field in which the imagination can riot. And 
 yet what sources of contention it has opened ! All the 
 letters in the alphabet may be joined together, and their 
 exact meaning plainly indicated ; but and so forth is 
 married to no letter, and so his bachelorship is quoted, 
 and made subservient to all purposes. A friend engages 
 board ; he stipulates the terms, and the host enumerates 
 privileges, " &e." The lover adds to his long epistle of 
 proposal that he hopes one day to be forever united, 
 where they shall realize one blissful dream amidst matri 
 monial comforts, " &c." 
 
 Now, although nothing is expressed in this winding 
 up, yet everything is understood. The man procuring 
 board sees a long array of agreeable privileges, which it 
 is never intended he should realize. The disposer of a 
 cargo includes many items in the termination with which 
 the owner will never be furnished ; the lover winds up 
 with a delightful anticipation which may be dissipated in 
 imagination.
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 95 
 
 Whoever would give the definition of " $*c.," would 
 confer a great blessing upon posterity. It certainly is 
 taken to mean a great deal, and it is used as the excuse 
 to mean nothing. And yet it is such a graceful close ; 
 it so helps out a forgetful orator ; it so finely finishes a 
 windy paragraph ; it so exquisitely furnishes what one 
 dislikes to enumerate, and it gives such a pledge without 
 an obligation, that, were all the lexicographers in the 
 world to agree to set it aside, it could no more be done 
 than to quench the light of day. 
 
 There must be stops, windings-up of passages, a time 
 when eloquence becomes weary, when the man of letters 
 concludes, and, "with sentiments of heartfelt esteem, 
 &c.," breaks off abruptly, and yet satisfies the most 
 fastidious critic. And yet there are times when this 
 much-quoted word is never applied. It never finishes a 
 prayer, nor affords a close to a sermon ; it is not inserted 
 in a note of hand, nor in a will ; and if by chance it enters 
 into a long, undischarged bill of goods, there is much care 
 ful research to interpret its meaning. So, like many 
 good things which we both use and abuse, it has its place, 
 and when used aright helps finish up a long array of 
 wearisome details. Therefore, we commend and so 
 forth to all sweeping paragraph-writers, all elaborate 
 sentence-makers, all hurried correspondents, all disconso 
 late lovers, all advertisers of real estate, personal proper 
 ty, and whatever is wearisome in the whole catalogue of 
 minute enumerations.
 
 A FINE MORNING. 
 
 A FINE flow of spirits, like fine weather, will not 
 always abide with us. There are cloudy days and stormy 
 days, as well as those of sunshine, and there are moody 
 days and sad days and troubled ones, all of which make 
 up the diversity of human condition. In despite of quack 
 medicine advertisements, notwithstanding " the balm of a 
 thousand flowers " is concentrated, there are people still 
 with bloated faces and freckled skins. There are carroty- 
 colored hair, and pepper-and-salt colored, and pure milk- 
 white, and gray heads, although every newspaper is her 
 alding the recipe that can change them "to a permanent 
 black, or a soft and silky brown." And there are chapped 
 hands, and burned fingers, and excrescences, which ' ' Russia 
 Salve " purports to heal and mollify ; and there is a long 
 catalogue of unmitigated suffering, notwithstanding thou 
 sands of pamphlets are thrown into every vestibule, 
 counting-room, shop and dwelling, where poor humanity 
 sits on stilts, or is prostrate on beds, or reclines on sofas, 
 or stretches out in recumbent chairs. 
 
 So, a fine day is not always a guaranty of fine feel 
 ings. There is a poor, wasted skeleton of a man ; and as 
 the wind flows balmily from the south-west, he concludes 
 to venture a few paces from his home. He puts on his
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 97 
 
 heavy overcoat, and stout boots, and thick muffler, and 
 draws his hat pretty snugly over his forehead, and, at a 
 snail's pace, assisted by the use of a large cane, he ap 
 proaches you. You kindly inquire for his health, and 
 congratulate him upon being visible on the sidewalk; 
 but, alas ! he coughs before he articulates a reply, tells 
 you he is almost afraid he is overdoing; that he has 
 not ate the value of a biscuit for a week, and thinks of 
 trying the effect of the water-cure treatment. Well, he 
 needs the rubbing, and dousing, and chafing, and exer 
 cising of that kind treatment. Awhile hence, leafy June 
 sends you to his place of sojourn, and you will see a man 
 with a brisk trot, unbandaged, sucking in all the aromatic 
 fragrance he can inhale from the blossoms of trees and 
 the scent of perfumed flowers, and he wonders why you 
 stare so long in his face; tells you he has advanced 
 fifty per cent. ; that his life can now be insured at a far 
 less premium than formerly ; that he eats mush and milk, 
 dines on baked potatoes, and sups on tea and Graham 
 bread ; that he walks fourteen miles a day, always feels 
 cheerful, and yet calculates on a return to the city a well 
 man ! 
 
 That invalid, too, over the way, who has been wrecked 
 all winter, swollen with the rheumatism, diseased in 
 the liver, lame, weak-visioned, a victim to poultices 
 and pills, whose physician has made him a daily visit for 
 three months past, has sallied out this fine morning. He 
 tells you, he feels encouraged; that his lameness is 
 better ; that he is trying a new cure for the liver com 
 plaint, and, as warm weather approaches, he has full con 
 fidence his bodily ailments will be mitigated, perhaps 
 9
 
 98 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 entirely leave him. A fire kindles in his eye as he 
 anticipates his future well-being ; and if the hope but 
 continues buoyant, he will soon dismiss his physician, 
 ride into the country, live on dandelions, snuff the breeze, 
 and bid defiance to disease. 
 
 But invalids alone are not on the promenade. Can 
 vass the streets where dry-goods' establishments have 
 advertised " Spring fashions opened this morning," and 
 witness the rush ! There is the glitter of silks, satins, 
 and brocades; the fresh sunshade just mounted for the 
 season, which overshadows the last Unique pattern hat, 
 made so flaringly open that the rich, ponderous ear-rings 
 are distinctly visible, creating a kind of thrill lest their 
 weight shall slit down the ear and cause an advertise 
 ment of " lost," in to-morrow's newspaper. 
 
 Verily, says the perambulator, this is an age of gold. 
 Our bachelor friend walked in behind the show at one of 
 these immense windows which exhibited the " very last 
 styles." " What is the price of this mantilla ? " inquired 
 a young, economical miss. "Only forty dollars," replied 
 the shopman ; " decidedly cheap, a great bargain." It 
 was taken! "And of this wrought handkerchief?" 
 " Only twenty-five." What ! thought he, as a heavy 
 roll was disgorged from her port monnaie. As he went 
 out he jostled against velvets, blonde lace, gaudy jewelry, 
 pointed remarks as well as collars, and, in a fit of despera 
 tion, concluded he would stand the " landlady's rise on 
 board" some time longer, rather than venture into the 
 sea of extravagance which this fine morning had revealed 
 to him.
 
 SOILED GARMENTS. 
 
 WITH what care we bedeck our persons, and, if about 
 to enter the presence of a distinguished individual, how 
 shocked we should be to appear with soiled garments ! 
 And, then, with what nice discrimination we put on the 
 apparel suited to the occasion ! 
 
 But, while we are so studious about the outer man, 
 how is it with the inner temple ? Are we careful about 
 the soil or spots here ? How happened we to wink at 
 that fraud to evade justice and secure wealth ? Why 
 did we yield to that resentment, and thus cause a brother 
 to sin, and ourself to be the subject of recrimination 1 
 How came we to speak unkindly of that man, about 
 whom we ought to have been silent 7 Why that hasty 
 word in the family ? I fear we are not clean within, 
 however we practise outward ablutions. 
 
 If but half the time and attention we bestow upon 
 the bodyvr&s given to correcting, purifying, and regen 
 erating the soul, one-half of our bodily maladies would 
 be obviated. A pure soul never exists in an impure 
 body; but we dare not reverse the rule, it will not 
 hold. The physician gives the recipe for the earthly 
 malady. Christ came to give the specific that would heal 
 the soul of its internal diseases.
 
 THE BROKEN PROMISES. 
 
 " BUT physical ailments, Mr. Tompkins, admonish me 
 that I am not long for this world, and I do wish, hus 
 band, you would make me one promise. I know I shall 
 not be here long, my dear." Her voice grew very 
 plaintive, and Mr. Tompkins was obliged to hear her. 
 
 "Well, what is it that I must promise, to make you 
 happy, wife; anything reasonable 7" 
 
 " Now, that is the way you always answer me. So 
 cavalierly, so unfeelingly, and in such a coarse way. I 
 tell you again, I shall not be here long. You are a 
 rugged man, Mr. Tompkins, and know but little of my 
 physical ails, I tell you." 
 
 " Pho, nonsense ! You are nervous, wife. Go out, 
 take the air, brace up a little, and the vapors will quit 
 their hold." 
 
 "But, that promise, husband? " 
 
 " Well, now for it." 
 
 "Will you promise me, sincerely, as God spares your 
 life, if I should die, that you will never marry again ? 
 You know how many girls would be glad to step in my 
 shoes ; how many widows would like the privilege of 
 sitting in my drawing-rooms, those beautiful rooms, 
 all hung in tapestry, and those bright chandeliers sus-
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 101 
 
 pended, looking just as good as new, if they were bought 
 at auction. My worsted work, too. 0, I could not 
 bear to know that anybody should own it after me ! But 
 I am going to a better place, I trust. Heaven, they say, 
 is paved with gold ! It will be hard to leave you, 
 husband ; but I know you will soon follow. Now, prom 
 ise me faithfully that you will never marry again, but 
 keep everything just as I leave it, which shall be in good 
 order. Will you?" 
 
 " On condition, wife, that, if I should die, you will 
 observe the same injunction. You know how many 
 young men are dancing attendance on rich widows ; how 
 many who have lost their wives would like to wear my 
 coats, and pants, and satin vests. Now, you will keep 
 them always hanging in the closets, just as I left them, 
 and never let my wrought slippers be put upon another 
 man's foot." 
 
 "Certainly, Mr. Tompkins; but that event will 
 never happen in my day. You will live long after me." 
 
 The promises being thus mutually exchanged, Mrs. 
 Tompkins seemed to revive. She procured a bottle or 
 two of specifics for hypochondriacs, and really grew so 
 much better as to propose a journey. The autumn fol 
 lowing, she broke out in a European fever, and Mr. and 
 Mrs. Tompkins were registered as having taken passage 
 for Liverpool. 
 
 New sights so engrossed her attention, new faces so 
 won her heart, new cookery so improved her appetite, 
 that Mrs. Tompkins emerged from a pale, thin, sharp- 
 featured woman, to a healthful, plump English lady ; 
 and, after a two years' residence, when she returned, 
 9*
 
 102 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 how her neighbors stared, as they accosted her with, " Can 
 this be you, Mrs. Tompkins?" 
 
 But Providence and man are not alike in their designs. 
 Mr. Tompkins had grown thin, had a cough, a pain 
 through the shoulders, little appetite, and great debility. 
 He was consumptively inclined, but remarkably resigned to 
 his situation. And now gossip abounded ; some affirmed 
 he had lived a wearisome life with his wife ; some said they 
 "could tell things," but would not ; others, who were in 
 her confidence, shook their heads, and said they " never 
 criminated church members; " for Mrs. Tompkins was a 
 very pious woman. But, at length, the man died, and the 
 bereaved widow lamented loudly, and begged the sexton 
 to see that all things were done in good order, and in 
 sisted to know if he really believed the body could be 
 kept two days. She sent for an artist, had his picture 
 taken, bought the finest bombazine dress, had a mantilla 
 trimmed with the deepest folds of crape, wore a blinding 
 veil, and cried as if her heart would break. She went to 
 Probate, administered herself on the estate, lived in her 
 own drawing-rooms, kept her servants, but complained 
 bitterly of loneliness. She was always at church meet 
 ings, always wept, or held up her handkerchief, when the 
 good man prayed that "afflictions might be sanctified," 
 and, in short, the widow Tompkins, with her fortune of 
 two hundred thousand, without "chick or child" to 
 share it, was quite a prominent character in the mouths 
 of sundry widowers and forlorn stricken bachelors. For 
 two full months she wore the veil down. It was said she 
 was observed to draw it aside very slightly ; then a little 
 further, till, finally, she threw it over the crown of her
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 103 
 
 bonnet, just as parson Boneset repeated the text, "For 
 our light afflictions, which are but for a moment," &c. 
 
 That night Deacon Sears called. But how excusa 
 ble was his visit ! His wife died suddenly, "but full 
 of hope;" and how natural that his sympathies should 
 be drawn towards the widow, full of hope likewise ! 
 Mrs. Tompkins was always at the prayer-meetings, and 
 Deacon Sears always exhorted ; and how natural it was 
 he should see the widow home ; and, when he got to the 
 door, how natural that he should step in; and, when 
 fairly in, how natural to slay, disliking to leave good 
 company ! Depend on it, then, matters were talked over 
 between the members, and some inferences were drawn ; 
 but, curious enough, the deacon had promised Mrs. 
 Sears, in the event of her death, he would never marry 
 again ! This promise was extorted before sundry wit 
 nesses, and they were all living, and ready to testify to 
 the fact. The deacon was a man of truth, and the parish 
 generally thought him to be relied on. One person went 
 so far as to say to the widow Tompkins, aside from this 
 promise, she did believe he had serious intentions; 
 whereupon the widow grew faint, and was revived only by 
 sal-volatile. Here were two pledges made to dead people ; 
 could they violate them ? Was there any validity in 
 them? Grave questions were discussed in the public 
 meetings, whether certain promises were obligatory; 
 whether the dead took cognizance of the actions of the 
 living ; and whether the spirits of our departed friends 
 were hovering over us mortals ? These topics led to 
 much metaphysical discussion; but the deacon always 
 opposed the doctrine of personal recognition hereafter. 

 
 104 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 We shall all be blessed in the mass, wag his favorite 
 theory. Still it wore upon him. The widow grew more 
 and more attractive. Just so far as repelling forces 
 diverged from the centre, the power of gravitation in 
 creased, and Mr. Boneset was requested to deliver a 
 lecture upon moral obligations. 
 
 The divine took the ground that all promises made in 
 good faith were strictly binding ; that death rather 
 sealed than annulled them ; that the accusing spirit 
 might so torment a man who wilfully broke such an 
 engagement, as to be his perpetual misery in a future 
 state, besides the disquietude incident to existence here. 
 This was a poser. Matters grew worse and worse ; but, 
 finally, taking shelter under the old maxim, "that a bad 
 promise is better broken than kept," Deacon Sears and 
 widoAv Tompkins took advantage of our new law, and 
 were married.
 
 MODERN TALK. 
 
 "I NEVER will marry Mr. Sinclair, ma, so you may as 
 well drop the subject as not. Do you suppose I ? 11 have 
 a mechanic for a beau, when Sophia Marshall, and Sally 
 Edes, and all my associates, have young gentlemen to 
 wait on them ? Look at his coarse hands ; they are too 
 big for a kid glove there is not a pair imported of 
 sufficient size for him. I never will marry him, and you 
 may tell father so." 
 
 " But, my dear, Tom Emery has only a small salary, 
 and you never need think your father will countenance 
 him. Why, child, should you slight a mechanic 1 Your 
 father was a journeyman carpenter once." 
 
 " Mother, I '11 hold my ears if you tell me that again. 
 I've been mortified enough to hear father tell every 
 young gentleman that comes here, about his beginnings, 
 and being bound to old Mr. Gragg as an apprentice. I 
 really left the room the other evening, it was so painful. 
 Certainly he was a master-builder before he retired, and 
 never worked any ; he only rode round in his chaise, and 
 superintended his workmen." 
 
 "But, my dear, he first earned his horse and chaise by 
 hard labor and prudent living." 
 
 " And what good will all his money do, if he hoards it
 
 106 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 up, and we girls cannot dress like other people ? I'm 
 sure, I 'm tired to death Avith hearing about how you 
 used to live. I want to live well now, and keep up with 
 the fashions." 
 
 "If you should accept Mr. Sinclair, Hitty, I have no 
 doubt but your father would give you a handsome house, 
 and furnish it beautifully, and do everything you Avish ; 
 but if you disobey him and marry a Avorthless rake, you 
 alone must bear the consequences ; but I enjoin it upon 
 you, child, ' to look before you leap.' ' 
 
 Sinclair was the son of a worthy mechanic, and chose 
 his father's occupation ; but he Avas Avell educated, and 
 had just offered himself to Hitty, the retired master- 
 builder's daughter, and many people thought he had 
 made a great mistake. 
 
 Tom Emery Avas a clerk at tAvo hundred and fifty dol 
 lars' salary, Avore Avhite kid glo\ T es, attended "operaws," 
 threAV bouquets at Signorina Teresa Parodi, carried a gold 
 opera-glass, a perfumed handkerchief and gold-headed 
 * cane. Avas cultivating a moustache, Avhiskers and an im 
 perial, and, above all, did not work for a living ; he 
 only sold goods, and changed places about once a month. 
 Yet Hitty thought "he Avas divine ! " 
 
 " I should feel pretty, ma," said she, one day, "to be 
 seated in my velvet chair, or be in the street Avith my 
 velvet cloak, and meet Sinclair Avith his working-dress 
 on. I 'm sure I Avould not bow to him. What Avould 
 Efiie Grieves think of me? " 
 
 "You talk very foolishly, child. Sinclair has a mind 
 and purse as far above your dandy beaux as the dome is 
 above the steps of the state-house."
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 107 
 
 "But look at his hands, ma, those awful big hands, 
 and his smooth face ! 0, dear ! say no more to me about 
 Sinclair. Mr. Emery, ma, is a beauty, and pa had bet 
 ter not oppose me too much there are more ways than 
 one to get married." 
 
 The mother wiped her eyes, and secretly wished "girls 
 had not such silly notions." 
 
 The mother said to her husband that evening " If our 
 Hitty, pa, should marry Tom Emery, I hope you will 
 make the best of it." 
 
 The old man rattled his paper, and pretended not to 
 hear a word. 
 
 A few days after this the dear child was missing. The 
 morning journal told the cause of her disappearance, 
 and there was a very afflicted household, where she had 
 been the pet and pride of maternal love. 
 ' Formal intelligence has, however, been transmitted to 
 her parents that " Mr. and Mrs. Emery have secured 
 board at one of our first hotels, on their return," and the 
 fond mother is pondering whether it will do to hint to 
 " father " about the expediency of taking them home !
 
 
 "BUBBLEISM." 
 
 ME. CEPHAS BUBBLE is undeniably the "fastest" 
 young man in the market ; for he is not only ashamed 
 of his parentage and birth-place, but he is actually 
 ashamed that he was ever a boy ! You never heard 
 him quote "what he did when a child;" indeed, we 
 have no very authentic record that he ever was a child ! 
 
 He was a young man when we first knew him, which 
 was some twenty years ago, and he styles himself such, 
 now. When we first made his acquaintance he was about 
 exchanging a clerkship for "one of the firm." It was 
 more manly to work for one's self, and so the poor fellow 
 rushed headlong into business without capital, and, as is 
 usual, experienced the disagreeable dose of not being 
 able to face his creditors ; but, having passed through 
 the ordeal of bankruptcy, he was prepared to be a 
 " shrewd speculator," and some days could count his 
 thousands, and some days only his coppers ! 
 
 But he somehow always continued to keep in the 
 fashion. He was the " nice young man," in the estima 
 tion of all the fairest of creation ; and no concert, party 
 or lecture, was accounted quite so pleasant "as those 
 which Mr. Bubble attended; " for he had a most prodi 
 gious fund of small talk.
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 109 
 
 The fact that Mr. Bubble remained a single man un 
 doubtedly increased his acquaintances, and made him a 
 more popular man. And yet parents used to caution 
 their daughters about being " engaged to such fellows as 
 Bubble," and, at the same time, they never failed to 
 invite him to partake of their hospitalities ! Although 
 often unsuccessful in his financial operations, he was 
 called "shrewd," ''well posted," &c., because he always 
 dashed headlong into and through everything. 
 
 True he had been in all sorts of society, and had a 
 smattering of all kinds of phraseology, which adapted 
 him to all varieties of company. He knew the phrases 
 on change and in the drawing-room, in the lecture and 
 at the opera ; and, by the right application of terms, 
 it was astonishing how often sound was taken for 
 sense. 
 
 He was always at home in a "panic" gotten up by 
 brokers; could be a " bull" or a "bear." as best fitted 
 his position ; could put on his nice white kids and call on 
 the Misses Flambeaus, and converse about the "en 
 chanting belle of last evening's party," and tell "how 
 divinely Miss Popinjay looked, at the opera;" could 
 bow and twirl his gloves, and pat down his huge mous 
 tache after a hearty laugh with the ladies ; and at the 
 lecture-room he could sit with his rolling eyes upon the 
 fair assembly, and ogle, and give a pleasant simper and 
 a graceful recognition to many of the upper-ten ; while 
 not a few exclaimed, as they sought him in the crowd : 
 
 " There 's Mr. Bubble, Nelly ; " " There 's that pleas 
 ant fellow, Bubble, Hatty;" all showing how popular 
 he was becoming. 
 10
 
 110 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 And then Mr. Bubble was the pink of fashion. Very 
 early in the season you might see him promenading, 
 dressed a la mode. If "adder-skin pantaloons" were in 
 vogue, you might be sure Mr. Bubble had been seen with 
 them; if they were flowing or tightly compressed to the skin, 
 long or short, why, look at Bubble. that determined 
 how they ought to be worn. If the dress-coat was short, 
 or the frock or sack were only a round-about ; if the vest 
 were open and long, or close and short ; and if Congress 
 half-boots or French red-tops were the fashion, Mr. Bub 
 ble had been out. 
 
 But who was his tailor? Nobody knew, because, if 
 they had, the precise article might have been " com 
 mon," as it was, only an imitation could be selected. 
 He always spoke of his clothes being made in London ; 
 and it was remarked that nobody ever wore a dickey that 
 sat so perfectly as did Bubble's. There did not seem to 
 be anything difficult in attaining to the perfection of cut 
 ting out one bit of linen like another but how many 
 hundreds failed in the experiment to do so ! The differ 
 ence was, Bubble's never wrinkled, never confined his 
 neck to a straight-ahead look, never broke down when 
 suddenly called to look on one side, never failed to be 
 graduated to the neck it enclosed. And, whose shirt- 
 bosom ever sat like Cephas Bubble's ? Did you ever 
 see it ballooning out, or so tightly drawn down as to 
 make him round-shouldered for its accommodation 1 I 
 think not. Yet who made these articles nobody knew, and 
 he would never sell the recipe any more than the one by 
 which he had gained his reputation for being a "shrewd 
 fellow!" 

 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. Ill 
 
 Mr. Bubble is generally placed upon "lecture com 
 mittees," "associations for the moral improvement of 
 young men," upon "fancy grounds," "laying out circu 
 lar paths," " widening and bordering walks ;" and it is 
 supposed, by some, he was the architect of many of our 
 public buildings, where the finances were not commensu 
 rate to the undertakings, for many unique models of 
 churches have been found in his old portfolio. Perhaps 
 this attempt at designing may have originated in his con 
 stant effort to promote the progress of the age, having, 
 as he does, a profound contempt for the old, prudent 
 characters who caught the spirit of those who landed in 
 the " Mayflower." 
 
 But Mr. Bubble meets with serious opposition. He 
 desires an alteration in our constitution, so that younger 
 men may be eligible to office, and an " amendment" that 
 a retiracy to private life may be enforced at the age of 
 fifty, for he has been but thirty-two for the last ten 
 years. He has " thought about being married" ever 
 since we knew him ; but probably fearing it might lessen 
 him in the esteem of the frequenters at fashionable re 
 sorts, he has concluded not to pay the penalty. 
 
 It may seem too personal a matter to point directly to 
 him where he is sure to be seen but ask any inveterate 
 attendant upon operas or popular lectures, to point him 
 out, and it can be done. He purposes, however, to leave 
 the city as soon as he ascertains which will be the most 
 fashionable summer resort, and if he finds it is decidedly 
 "vulgar" to stay in America (as some anticipate), he 
 holds himself in readiness to " go abroad."
 
 CURIOSITY. 
 
 Do we not every day see people far more interested 
 in the concerns of others than their own affairs ? What 
 care I how my neighbor lives, provided he be a good citi 
 zen ? Why this trouble to ascertain how much are his 
 expenditures, what he is worth, and why he dines on 
 mutton when he might afford poultry ? 
 
 Suppose Mrs. Grundy docs employ a homoeopathic 
 physician, and I prefer an allopathic one 1 Why should 
 I meddle ? What if she is straitlaced in her theology, 
 and I cannot embrace the same truths as she, in the same 
 way 1 We both live in a free country ; let us live inde 
 pendently. Paul Pry left a vast progeny his brothers 
 are in every village and street, and his ' ' cousins ' ' oc 
 cupy more space than is generally known. The remote 
 connections hang about market-places and counting- 
 rooms ; they can tell you how much a man's business is 
 worth^ and how much tax he pays ; whether he is an epi 
 cure, and how much he has invested in good securities 
 and bad stocks ; and where the certainty is not known, 
 the guess always supplies the want. No wonder the man 
 out west felt he must move when a neighbor twenty-five 
 miles off built a saw-mill. " That man," said he, " will 
 know all about my affairs, for he is a curious fellow."
 
 LIFE IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 LET no one imagine he has been in the country, 
 who has taken a drive around the suburbs of a city. All 
 such places are but so many miniature cities, where the 
 same fashions, works of art and decorations of nature, are 
 everywhere visible. To go into the country means to sit 
 in the cars three or four hours, and then find yourself 
 landed at a depot where the woods rise before and behind 
 you ; where the people stare at every stranger who 
 alights, and where curiosity is excited to know your 
 whereabouts and your business. Then take a steady 
 family horse, and drive to some farm-house, where primi 
 tive rocks surround the premises, and all the hedges are 
 the growth of uncultivated nature. Step into the interior, 
 where divans and luxurious couches never stood, but, 
 instead thereof, a yellow-painted, hard floor, with a bed 
 upturned in the corner, an antiquated fireplace, and 
 relics of other days in thick profusion strew the way 
 and here you may gain a taste for rural pleasures. The 
 gay routine of city life enters not here ; the morning 
 call is never made ; the brocade is never needed ; all you 
 have to do is simply to yield yourself to the sweet influ 
 ences about you. For fragrance, you can lay aside the 
 elegant perfume, and substitute the refreshing incense 
 10*
 
 114 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 of the clover-bed and honeysuckle ; for a concert you 
 have the thousand songsters which flit from branch to 
 branch and the "bird song" of our famed Jenny is but 
 an imitation of these real amateurs of the grove ; for a 
 walk you have no need of the soft and delicate kid slip 
 pers, but the coarser-made boot, which bids defiance to 
 heavy dews and scratching sand beds ; and thus equipped 
 you may safely calculate on healthful pastime and enjoy 
 ment. 
 
 Shall I carry you to yonder plat, red with strawber 
 ries which have never been cultivated for a horticultural 
 exhibition, and which can lay no claim in size to a 
 Hovey's seedling? Nevertheless, in the quality of sweet 
 ness they have no superior. In yonder dairy are floods 
 of cream not such as poor city people pour from milk 
 men's bottles, but thick, sweet and new, from the glossy 
 pan of the morning's gathering. And then you may 
 cool your heated brow under the shade of a wide-spread 
 ing maple or elm ; and what epicure could desire a richer 
 treat than you have just gathered ? 
 
 And, after the dry and parched earth has all day been 
 burned by the scorching rays of the sun, a dark and 
 heavy cloud gathers in the west the distant sound of 
 thunder in low mutterings is fully confirmed as the 
 chain lightning darts from yonder yellow-edged clouds. 
 Anon, the rain pours in torrents, and the tender plants 
 lie drooping under their homoeopathic dressing, like the 
 invalid who first feels the douche upon his uncovered 
 body ; but, as with him, this is only the renovating pro 
 cess, and, by and by, the drenched heads of animal and 

 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 115 
 
 plant rise with a firmer, statelier mien, to buffet the 
 future adverse gales. 
 
 But the most enchanting rainbow appears, in a grace 
 ful bend arching the sky, and bidding the first promise 
 rise to our remembrance not the rainbow of the city, 
 where its varied colors are only visible between columns 
 of brick, but the glorious arch we have described. And 
 now for a stroll by the river-side. See the rushing, foam 
 ing, tumbling current here with a gentle flow, and there 
 like a dashing cataract. You wonder at the imagination 
 of the friend by your side, who speaks of the fine mill 
 privilege here presented, and tells you how a dam 
 could be constructed and a fall obtained to carry so 
 many thousand spindles ! Just so with yonder grassy 
 valley. it is so verdant and peaceful, the birds carol 
 so sweetly, and the fire-flies flit so numerously at even 
 ing's dewy coming, that it seems a cold calculation that 
 talks only about a warm, fertile soil, which is capable 
 of producing so many bushels of gram ! 
 
 You feel that rural pleasures have not deadened all 
 love of gain, nor made plodders of the soil insensible to 
 the value of the land they till. The same specimens 
 of humanity are found the world over, and it is best 
 it should be so. We, too, with all our enthusiasm, 
 should soon see the sun rise without much emotion, and 
 the birds sing without heeding whether it be a golden 
 robin or a tiny sparrow. The fragrance of the fields 
 would be inhaled by degrees with insensibility, and the 
 supply of our animal wants would gain the ascendency, 
 and the glowing rapture which the change from a city 
 to a country life awakened, would lose its fresh delight,
 
 116 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 and -we, too, should sink into apathy amidst the glori 
 ous manifestations of nature's curious workmanship. So 
 we will hie hack again to our busy metropolis, ere the 
 charm has faded from our hearts. 
 
 As we were sketching the life of the old-fashioned 
 farmer, we were struck with the dissimilar position of him 
 who ranks under the same title in the neighborhood of 
 our city. Our suburban farmer cannot often boast of his 
 hundred acres, nor yet of his heavy wood lot ; he has 
 no " sheep pastures," nor land unfit for productive labor; 
 if so, his prolific imagination riots over the expediency 
 of " lotting" it, and causing a village to spring up in a 
 day. His vegetables are carefully tended, not to minis 
 ter to his own palate, but to adorn with their dewy fresh 
 ness some showy stall in yonder market. That cultivated 
 bed of strawberries is scarcely tasted at home ; but children 
 are employed to pick for " boxing." Alas, for the rich 
 cream in his dairy ! that, too, must be bottled, and made 
 to swell the amount of his yearly gains ; the asparagus- 
 bed, the early potato-patch, the corn so early ripened, 
 the long catalogue we class as "kitchen vegetables," all 
 are fostered and protected and hastened to ripen, to 
 administer to other palates. 
 
 We were lately consulting with a friend, who lives on 
 such a farm as we have described, respecting board for 
 the summer. He was a frank man, and assured us, if we 
 were calculating upon enjoying or feasting upon the 
 product of his vines, that we should soon become dissat 
 isfied. "All I raise." continued he, "is promised to a 
 particular stall; that man has his city customers, who 
 depend upon my forced hot-house productions ; and many
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 117 
 
 a time have I carried my own vegetables to market, and 
 purchased others less fresh for my family's use. In this 
 way only, I have attained to my present possessions ; it 
 is literally by the sweat of my brow, and what many 
 would call the most parsimonious economy. The rich 
 pass by my fertile grounds, and stop in their carriages 
 to admire the size of enclosures devoted to one particu 
 lar species of vegetable, namely, my asparagus-bed, and 
 its neighbor, the plat of radishes. They apparently envy 
 the profusion ; but suppose they were told we who 
 cultivated rigidly refrained from gathering for our own 
 use until they were fully satiated ? This is the life of a 
 farmer who begins to clear his way, and sees indepen 
 dence in the foreground. 
 
 ' Well, the rich man who so much admired my 
 grounds becomes possessed of them himself. He knows 
 they must be profitable, as I relate the minute account 
 of what I have realized. But how does he find it? He 
 does not labor himself; his wife and daughters know 
 nothing of the wearing drudgery of a toiling farmer's 
 life, and he erects a small farm-house on his grounds, 
 hires a gardener and his wife to conduct the whole labor, 
 himself nominally ranking as superintendent. Friends 
 from the city in large parties come to enjoy his fruitful 
 acres ; the home consumption very much abridges his 
 marketable produce ; his hired appendages are fed upon 
 the dainties they pick, and it requires no close arithmet 
 ical calculation to find the result of fanning like a gen 
 tleman, and farming like a working man. 
 
 "Hence it comes that so many are 'humbugged,' as 
 they call it, in experimenting. In fact, there is no
 
 118 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 cheat about it. The difference has been clearly shown, 
 what is consumed at home cannot be paid for abroad ; 
 what is expended for hire is seldom as productive as the 
 work of one's own hands." 
 
 We pity the man whose experience teaches him such 
 practical lessons. Let such a.n one watch the unceasing 
 toil of the thrifty farmer, who has secured his indepen 
 dence by the sweat of his brow, and he will readily per 
 ceive that employing others is a very different affair from 
 working himself; and nowhere will its results be more 
 keenly felt than in the "pocket nerved
 
 COMMUTATION. 
 
 THE word commutation has been much in vogue of 
 late. We have applied it to the fate of our fellow-men 
 convicted of crime, and whom we would save from the 
 ignominy of the gallows. We are not prepared to discuss 
 the vexed question and consequences of capital punish 
 ment, nor yet of imprisonment for life. We are only 
 speaking of commutation. We were fancying ourselves 
 sinners under sentence of death, and with the weight of 
 heavy transgressions upon us. We know we shall soon 
 be tried and found guilty, not in an earthly court, but at 
 a heavenly bar. We were thinking upon what we could 
 base a plea that would there avail in proof of our inno 
 cence. We cannot offer any false claim, nor set up any 
 personal merit, because we are in the presence of the 
 Searcher of hearts, who knows the end from the begin 
 ning. There is a ground of hope and fear in this assur 
 ance. We can rejoice that our cause is in the hands of 
 such a judge, who knows what is in man, and will not be 
 misled by any prejudice or false view. We can, there 
 fore, throw ourselves into the arms of mercy. 
 
 But I apprehend we lose sight of our need of commu 
 tation in the day of our trial, when we mete out the sen 
 tence to our erring brother man. He may have committed
 
 120 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 the greater transgression ; he may have slain his brother, 
 and his doom by earthly tribunals is death. There was, 
 probably, a dark chapter which led the way for this step 
 in his history. He is accountable for the indulgence of 
 unbridled passion, of deadly revenge, of a blood-thirsty 
 aim. His offence cries to Heaven for redress. And does 
 it not cry likewise for commutation there, if not here ? 
 To lose a soul, what is it? Does it live in intense 
 anguish and remorse until it consumes itself by preying 
 upon its own powers ? Or do those sufferings gain new 
 intensity when earthly clogs are removed, and burn on 
 forever? Or is there a portion, terrible though it be, 
 meted out to transgressors ; and, having suffered the full 
 measure for our iniquities, is the soul permitted to retrace 
 its tedious way back to the Father's throne of mercy, and 
 there receive an expiation for its sins while in the body ? 
 These are fearful questionings, but they will come ; and 
 the uncertainty with which we feel they are attended in 
 the final issue, should warn us against the indulgence of 
 all iniquity here. Certain we may be, we shall all stand 
 in need of commutation. 

 
 THE OPPRESSED SEAMSTRESS. 
 
 SOME people seem to have an idea that they pay too 
 much for everything, and it is a positive duty to employ 
 those who will work the cheapest. 
 
 Mrs. Ellsworth lived sumptuously, and her daughters 
 dressed elegantly. We won't call them extravagant, be 
 cause people who have plenty of money are not obliged 
 to give an account to their neighbors of their expenditures. 
 They were, however, discussing this very subject them 
 selves upon their damask lounges, when the servant man 
 entered and presented the seamstress's bill. Such a 
 nicely-folded paper always attracted the family's atten 
 tion, and having looked at the bottom and seen the 
 amount, and exclaimed, " Dear me ! how high ! " they 
 proceeded to examine the contents of the bundle which 
 accompanied the bill. 
 
 " The work is done beautifully," said Miss Henrietta. 
 " How superbly this lace is set on ! How splendidly this 
 is hemstitched ! I declare, mother, I never mean to do 
 any work myself, again, it is so much better than I can 
 make it look." 
 
 " But you forget," said the mother, " it costs a great 
 deal to hire all our sewing for a large family, if it be 
 11
 
 3.22 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 done ever so cheap ;" yet she felt herself that it was very 
 pleasant to have garments so made. 
 
 " I wonder," said Sophia, a tall, graceful girl of sixteen, 
 to the little waiting seamstress in the entry, " Avhat you 
 would charge to make papa ten shirts ? I have engaged 
 to have them done by the first day of May ; and it is so 
 long a joh, and so vexatious, I wish I could transfer them 
 to you to finish." 
 
 The child was sent home to inquire of ' ' her mother 
 what she should charge to make ten shirts, with full 
 bosoms, hemstitched each side, and ruffled, of the nicest 
 fabric, and workmanship to correspond." 
 
 The little girl returned and artlessly replied : 
 
 " Mother says as how she shall charge a dollar; but 
 if the young folks said they would n't give it, rather than 
 lose the job, she would say seventy-five cents apiece." 
 
 Amused with a simplicity which ought to have excited 
 sympathy rather than merriment, Sophia pretended that 
 seventy-five cents was all she expected to give ; she had 
 hoped to get them done for fifty cents. Mrs. Fuller gave 
 only that; but she did not add Mrs. F.'s shirts were un 
 bleached, and very common work was put in them. After 
 some hesitancy she brought them down, and, doing up a 
 large bundle, despatched it to the seamstress, adding : 
 
 " Now my poor head and my eyes are relieved." 
 
 But let us see to whom this burden was transferred. 
 The same seamstress once had a husband who was a pros 
 perous merchant ; but he speculated unwisely, died sud 
 denly, and left a widow, with two small children, to 
 grapple with the hard fate of poverty, and the remem 
 brance of " better days." They occupied but one room,
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 123 
 
 and, as her only employment was sewing, it was difficult 
 to make both ends mee't, with the most untiring industry. 
 
 " Don't you think, mother." said the little Ellen, who 
 brought home the work, " the young lady thought she 
 ought to get the shirts made for fifty cents apiece. But, 
 mother, she surely could not have known what a slow 
 process it is to gather, and hemstitch, and ruffle, and do 
 all the sewing, just for half a week's rent, or she never 
 would have said so." 
 
 The mother brushed a tear away. " No, child, she 
 never sewed for a living ! " 
 
 " And, mother, she told her sister that she was so glad 
 to get rid of the tiring work, and she said that her father 
 would never know but she did it all, and she should 
 have fifty cents clear, on every shirt. What could she 
 mean?" 
 
 Mrs. A. had heard of such deception before, but she 
 cared not to inform her daughter that the young lady 
 was, probably, to receive one dollar and a quarter for 
 each shirt. She felt that her business was only to finish 
 the whole number as soon as possible. 
 
 She immediately set about the task of cutting them by 
 the pattern, assorting them into piles, and getting the 
 plainer parts ready for Ellen to hem, as she was very 
 nice in needle-work, as far as she had learned the art ; 
 but it was always near " school-time," and the poor child 
 but little relieved her mother. 
 
 It was at the season, too, when storms succeed each 
 other rapidly, and the heavens are often overcast ; and, 
 as the tenement of the widow was badly lighted, it began 
 to make sad havoc with her vision. Her eyes were weary
 
 /2<J SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 from continued use ; and when the long job was patiently 
 accomplished, who could tell the aches and pains by which 
 it was all the way attended 1 Miss Landon, speaking of 
 such poor, has well said : 
 
 " We little think how wearily 
 The aching head lies down." 
 
 Long before the promised time Ellen carried home the 
 ponderous bundle of ten shirts. Miss Sophia severely 
 scrutinized them, pulled upon the ruffles, next looked at 
 the gathers, then the stitching, and, finally, tossing them 
 in a heap, added : 
 
 " Tell your mother they are worth no more than fifty 
 cents, and I will give her that if she will receipt the bill." 
 
 The child returned with a heavy heart and imparted 
 the information. 
 
 The seamstress wept ; she looked at the portrait upon 
 the wall. 
 
 "If he were but alive," said she, "I should have 
 some protector from wrong usage." She could not but 
 exclaim, " How my head does ache ! " as she untied an 
 other budget of work; " five dollars for ten shirts ! I 
 ought," thought she, " to better vindicate my rights ; but 
 they who oppress the poor have the worst of it. Here, 
 Ellen dear, take this bill for making the shirts, and bring 
 me back just what Sophia pleases to give; but say, mother 
 has toiled very hard, early and late, upon them." 
 
 Ellen did so, and Sophia took her five dollars from her 
 purse, adding : 
 
 " This is a great deal of money for poor people to 
 spend ; it will buy you a number of calico dresses." 
 
 " But mother's rent is due," said the child
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 125 
 
 " Pho ! rent is nothing make your landlord trust 
 you ! " and, so saying, she darted from the room. 
 
 The seamstress never closed her eyes that night. Think 
 you no unseen Eye will vindicate her true claim 1 
 
 " Sophia Ellsworth," said Grace Eaton, " where did 
 you get that splendid fan ? It is really elegant ! " 
 
 "I saved it," replied Sophia, "from money father 
 gave me to make his shirts ; but I hired them done at 
 half price, and he never knows it to this day." 
 
 Poor girl ! Your fan should be used as a screen to 
 hide the hard spot in your heart. Prosperity never long 
 follows in the footsteps of oppression. 
 11*
 
 OUR BEL. 
 
 " OUR Bel," writes a fond mother, " has become crazed 
 since she has been at a watering-place. I don't know 
 what to make of the giddy creature. Her father insists 
 that she ought to be returned home, but the dear little 
 pet is so happy and wild with enthusiasm, I do dread 
 
 to break the charm which now binds her to lovely N . 
 
 I transmit to you, my dear friend, the identical letter we 
 received this morning, that you may be the better able 
 to reply to my question, namely, ' What ought I to do 
 in this case?' " 
 
 "N , Aug. 23, 1853. 
 
 " MY DEAR PARENTS : I begin to realize more and 
 more what a blessed thing it is to be brought out in soci 
 ety. I am all the time in a whirl of delight ; there is 
 something new at every turn. Truly, this is an earthly 
 paradise. Our old humdrum friends at home talk about 
 poor human nature, and its degradation ! faugh ! I 
 never desire to see better specimens than we have here. 
 
 " Dear mother, I have not time to tell you of half the 
 conquests I have made since I came here. We have a 
 lovely southern gentleman, who sings exquisitely with me 
 every evening, and a decidedly brilliant young English 
 man, who performs duets with me to gathered crowds in
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 127 
 
 our public parlors. I seem to be fast losing the foolish 
 timidity I once felt. The blushes which used to mantle 
 my cheeks, when you bade me perform any little piece 
 at home before the grave old squire and his lady, do not 
 torment me now. I am not afraid of any one here, and 
 this confidence which I have acquired is alone worth the 
 price you pay for me to remain here. 
 
 " I danced every time at the last ' hop,' and wore my 
 cherry-colored tissue over the white satin. It was thought 
 the most decidedly elegant costume that appeared on the 
 occasion. I only wish papa would afford me a set of 
 diamonds. He is so rich he might do it as well as not. 
 I should be willing he should take it out of my marriage 
 portion, if ever I should settle down as a staid old ma 
 tron, and bind myself to one lover ; but that is a thing I 
 can never bring my mind to conceive of doing. There is 
 a great charm in listening to varied specimens of making 
 love. For example, one little coxcomb, who regulates 
 his stomach upon * Sarsaparilla bitters,' when he cannot 
 get a stronger tonic, came up to me in our crowded 
 drawing-room, and, said he, in a lisping tone, ( I am 
 sure, whoever is fortunate to gain your affections, Miss 
 Edgerly, has his fortune made for this world. Aw I 
 understand your papa, miss, is a millionaire. I should 
 like right well to call upon you in your city home.' As 
 I turned my head away disdainfully, Mr. Moxon caught 
 my arm, and in the most gallant manner asked me ' how 
 my hedrt stood affected since yesterday's conversation ' 
 (for we talked over love matters then). 
 
 " And there is a squeaking little fellow here, who sings 
 celestially, and he has an abundance of hair of the most
 
 128 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 exquisite auburn shade. His face is some ' pitted ' with 
 the relics of small-pox and yellow fever ; for he is fresh 
 from New Orleans, and even he stroked his moustache, 
 until he coaxed it into a lovely curl, he was so embar 
 rassed before he asked me if he should attend me to a 
 favorite walk we have here, called the ' Lover's Preci 
 pice,' from the fact that last summer a most romantic 
 event happened there. A gentleman, being disappointed 
 in the object of his attachment, threw himself headlong 
 down this height, and was taken up so mangled that he 
 survived but a few days. I have seen the lady who 
 caused his destruction ; she is indeed fascinating enough 
 to make any man lose his senses. 
 
 " But I never could run through the detail of thrilling 
 and ludicrous matters to which I every day listen. It 
 makes me so animated to be so constantly excited, that I 
 cannot bear to think of returning to our old systematic 
 way of living. Now, as my time is nearly expired, do, 
 dear mother, persuade papa to let me finish the fashion 
 able season here, and then I will return, and, after I 
 have procured an entire new wardrobe, we will take up 
 our autumnal travelling. That will be nice, won't it, 
 mother 7 
 
 " I have only to add, that I would like you to send 
 me, by express, two richly-embroidered handkerchiefs, for 
 I am so unfortunate as to have lost one, and my washer 
 woman says the one I gave her last week blew away. 
 My dresses I will try and make last during the season. 
 I have torn my tissue one horribly ; it being necessary 
 to wear them so that they drag all round ; and the gen-
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 129 
 
 tlemen are continually asking my pardon for having 
 stepped on my robe. 
 
 " Heigh-ho ! this is life ; and may every year make 
 me as happy as the last. I should not value being con 
 sidered an invalid, so long as it makes papa so generous 
 and solicitous about my health. Please tell him I was 
 never in better health ; that sea-bathing agrees with me 
 admirably, and likewise please make my compliments to 
 our kind physician, and thank him, from me, for recom 
 mending me to such a delightful watering-place. I shall 
 look to have my order fulfilled by to-morrow's express, 
 as a ' hop ' comes off in the evening. Please send a let 
 ter saying I may stay until this merry season breaks up. 
 Kiss papa, and tell him a compliance with my wishes 
 will gain for him my warmest love. 
 
 " Truly yours, ISABELLA." 
 
 When the friend to whom Mrs. Edgerly sent the above 
 letter, opened and read it, we may be sure she very soon 
 decided upon the advice which she should bestow. It was 
 scarcely a year since Isabella visited this lady. She had 
 then just graduated from a four years' residence at a 
 celebrated boarding-school. She was not, of course, then 
 "brought out;" but talked of wondrous things she 
 should do when that time arrived. 
 
 She was a giddy, impulsive creature, just like an 
 unbroken colt, ready to break the harness and neck of 
 the rider, if occasion required. The young lady was 
 profoundly ignorant of all domestic affairs, although she 
 graduated with high honors, and showed a diploma a
 
 130 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 yard long, which attested great proficiency in scholar 
 ship. 
 
 " While she was with me," writes the same lady with 
 whom Mrs. Edgerly conferred, " Isabella was far from 
 being industrious. She would eat fruit until her appetite 
 was completely satiated, and I could not induce her to 
 eat any solid food. She had little regard for the laws 
 upon which our health depends, and would sit in a cur 
 rent of air one day, and be confined to her bed the next 
 with an ear-ache. Her needle, when she used one, was 
 occupied in worsted work. She had some patterns of 
 elaborate finish (a boarding-school expression), but she 
 never executed much during her visit. She was forever 
 building air-castles in dreamland ; wondering whom she 
 should marry, and always applying the phrase, ' an 
 exquisite fellow,' to the most consummate coxcombs. 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Edgerly, by all means take your 
 daughter home. She needs incessant watching, and how 
 you could have thus perilled her in the care of only a 
 young lady like herself, I cannot tell. 
 
 " What if she has the neuralgia, and sea-bathing and 
 change of air are recommended ? Certainly, the recipe 
 did not add to the list those questionable acts which she 
 writes about. Almost any disease is preferable to being 
 made a heartless coquette, and such Isabella is fast be 
 coming. I would not only take her home, but I would 
 furnish her with useful employment when she gets there. 
 What if she does sigh and pine after such excitement ? 
 Show to her what, as a rational being, she was created for ; 
 give her household labors to perform, and make her feel 
 that to know how to prepare a dinner is quite as requisite
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 131 
 
 to her comfort, as to be able to read Virgil or French 
 authors. Do not err, as most mothers are apt to do, in 
 supposing her physical health will be endangered by do 
 mestic labors. Those have the least pains and aches, who 
 labor most ; at least, a refreshing sleep will remove such 
 infirmities ; whereas a listless young lady fancies herself 
 ill until she becomes so. 
 
 " If I have been too diffuse in my advice, it is because 
 I every day see the evils which flow from a fashionable 
 education, to the exclusion of the practical knowledge 
 of which every female should be possessed. I do not, 
 however, feel I am too exact in my requirements, for my 
 conversation with well-principled, rational young men, 
 assures me that such do not wish for a wife like a waxen 
 doll, that will break to pieces if exposed to the least 
 trial. 
 
 " But occasionally one gets sadly deceived in the 
 object of attachment. You may remember cousin Abi- 
 jah, who sought a country lass, because he thought 
 he should find in her the sterling qualities he desired for 
 a wife ; and you may recollect, too, how it proved with 
 him ; forever after the engagement she forsook her old em 
 ployments, and, in attempting to fit herself for a city lady, 
 by keeping herself constantly within doors, and practising 
 only upon 'tent stitch,' a pain in her side was induced, 
 the bloom on her cheek was exchanged for a lily white, 
 and her closets, to this day, look like an apothecary's 
 shop. Yet poor Abijah, of course, is doomed to bear 
 what he cannot help, but always hoped to avoid. Many 
 a man becomes thus cheated. 
 
 Ic My parting advice, therefore, I reiterate. Let your
 
 132 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 daughter be occupied every day with some useful labor, 
 and if you cannot enforce it you may send her to me. 
 
 "I would never hear my child detail her progressive 
 steps in a flirtation, rather change the current of her 
 thoughts by leading her to feel the responsibility of her 
 conduct, and the effect of her example upon character. 
 ' Bel ' certainly is endowed with good natural talents, 
 which ought not to be perverted at the shrine of vanity." 
 ***** 
 
 Not long since two gentlemen were expatiating upon 
 the excellent housekeeping of a friend of theirs, who was 
 recently married. " But they say," remarked one of 
 them, " she was a terrible flirt once." And would you 
 believe it, the now systematic model of a good wife, was 
 no less than our Bel, who, previous to her marriage, 
 spent two years under the guardianship of her faithful 
 aunt.
 
 A WIDOW'S EXPERIENCE. 
 
 WHY is sleep forever banished from the wretched? 
 Why is night so fearful and its gloom so appalling? 
 Why does the brain seem to rack its secret store-house, 
 to bring forth vividly all our buried hopes, and show us 
 the true aspect of life, when we are the least prepared to 
 receive it ? 
 
 I had laid upon my restless, uneasy pillow, the live 
 long night. Weary and sad, mourning in bitter anguish 
 that he to whom I had unburdened all my sorrows was 
 in the distant tomb ; his shroud, with its snowy foldings, 
 appeared distinctly before me ; his form, icy and stiffened, 
 and countenance beaming with no light but the strange 
 expression which death gives to the compressed lips, 
 which are sealed forever ! Good God ! I exclaimed in 
 my agony of loneliness, is this widowhood ? I looked out 
 upon the heavens, all was peaceful there ; the stars 
 seemed to shine with an unusual brilliancy ; why was 
 this darkness in my soul ? Again I sought my bed ; I 
 clasped my pillow to stop the throbbing of my fevered 
 brain. I felt my pulse, they were low, feeble and in 
 termittent. I had no hope, no strength, no love, no 
 faith ! All was one eternal darkness. Life, why was it 
 given thus to mock our fancy ? Hope, why implanted 
 12
 
 134 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 to make us feel our impotence, bereft of its power? 
 " Faith in the future," what idle words were those whis 
 perings, to my solitary heart. A widow ! Can it be, 
 that I, who have sported so happily and sung so merrily 
 along the floating stream of time, am now by the merci 
 less waves to be engulfed in darkness ? 
 
 Once more I am at my window. Dimly in the east 
 ern horizon there appears a faint streak of light. Is it 
 not the illusion of my weak vision, dimmed by my tears ? 
 Again I look ; its tinge is a little deepened ; a dim twi 
 light seerns to gather about my room, rendering more 
 distinct surrounding objects. A thrill, shall I call it 
 joy? 0, no ! that word defines not the emotion; a 
 sensation, a thought, comes over me, there may be light 
 in the distance ; the night heralds another day ; the 
 faint rays of morning increase in light, until the sun 
 rises in all its splendor. Can this scene prefigure what 
 may be my coming fate ? Alas ! this conscious agony 
 of utter loneliness comes in, to chill me again. Yet, 
 with the brightness of the morning, my soul instinc 
 tively turns to the light, and thanks God that the night 
 has passed ! A momentary calm comes over my throb 
 bing heart; its wild tumults are partially checked. 
 Worn and heavy, I am composed to realize a troubled 
 dream. Now, I have peace ; my companion again jour 
 neys on with me, and we are under the same protecting 
 care as ever. But hark ! A summons to leave. I am 
 again awake ; but still in my deep sorrow a comforter 
 has entered my soul. He bids me look upward ; he has 
 assurances of love, and tells me I am not forsaken. He 
 speaks of earthly darkness to which heavenly light sue-
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 135 
 
 ceeds. I turn my eyes above, the tomb has no tenant, 
 why should I linger there ? My friend is above, I will 
 be there also. 
 
 Thus lamented the bereaved widow. It is truly said, 
 such severe sufferings are of short duration ; their very 
 intensity wears out the subject of them. 
 
 We will transfer our glance to the future. A year 
 has passed, and there is a gay assembly. The priest is 
 there, and the bridegroom and the bride, who is the 
 same widow whose overflowing heart was bursting with 
 grief. Who laughs so joyously as she ? Who looks more 
 confidently into a future of domestic bliss 7 
 
 Let us take another leap ; for, strange as it may ap 
 pear, the sudden changes of life are made up of leaps. 
 In yonder steamboat sits a man, and wife, and child. 
 The husband is feeble; he has a slow, irregular step, 
 breathes short, and is easily fatigued. He is the prey of 
 consumption, and is now on his way to a more genial 
 climate, attended by all the loved ones of earth. Mark 
 his wife, my friend. She is watchful of his every step ; 
 and even the tiny boy, " Johnny," the mother's first idol, 
 seems to know that noise and roguery have no charms 
 for " dear sick papa." 
 
 The captain is interrogated, "How long will it proba 
 bly be before we reach Havana?" Adverse breezes delay 
 their steady progress, and the consumptive patient fails 
 rapidly. When they reach their destined port, he is 
 carried from the ship to the nearest accommodations, 
 looks out upon the face of nature so verdant and beau 
 tiful, and only murmurs, "Had I but arrived sooner,
 
 136 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 Susan" a choking succeeds; he is dead ! A second 
 time is the subject of my sketch a widow, in a land of 
 strangers. 
 
 She contrasts her present with her former situation. 
 Then she was surrounded by loving friends, and yet 
 she refused to be comforted. Now she is among those 
 who heed not her sorrows ; for it is no uncommon oc 
 currence thus to die, as the invalid first breathes these 
 spicy gales ; and all that remains is to commit to foreign 
 dust the relics of a second love, and mournfully return 
 to tell the tale of blighted hopes, twice sundered by 
 death ! 
 
 ******** 
 
 A period of twenty years has now elapsed since 
 this history was first chronicled. Yet, so often has the 
 sad drama been again and again realized, that every 
 soul exclaims, "I have read this tale before." But 
 did you know, my friend, that "Johnny" is married, 
 and the widow is now betrothed to her third husband 1 
 That husband in prospect is the father of the bride of the 
 widow's son ! 
 
 " Time will work wonders," quote it as often as we 
 will. In his hurrying track he has left a deep impress 
 upon that household. There are flaxened-haired boys, 
 whom want of paternal control has made ungovernable 
 and unlovely children. The father and son make but 
 one household ; and the step-daughter is no companion 
 for her step-mother. Why is it thus ? It began in a 
 trifle. She did something her mother conceived was 
 wrong ; she did not speak of it to her, but to the neigh 
 bors. They recommended the older member to bear no
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 137 
 
 offence ; and she brooded over the first source of dis 
 cord, till every act at length became odious. Ill-fated 
 Ellen ! A sad doom is thine ; the children must never 
 be corrected before the grand-parents; the discordant 
 elements of strife are working, and life is very dreary 
 to the step-mother ! Why not separate ? Because the 
 property has been given to the children during the 
 lifetime of the parents, and no home remains for them 
 but according to the " contract ! " 
 
 That woman reviewed her life. Thrice was she mar 
 ried, and two husbands had she laid in the grave. We 
 have heard her lamentations and grief; but she assures 
 us no hour of desolation in widowhood was half so try 
 ing as the daily friction which now attended her de 
 clining years. She had erred, but it was too late to 
 retrace her steps ; and her sad closing history can only 
 operate as a warning to others, lest they fall into such 
 condemnation. 
 
 The instruction we may gather is this : Never sur 
 render, unadvisedly, your own comfort and means of 
 subsistence into another's power. Never conceal the 
 heart-burnings which rise on the commission or omission 
 of acts, which, if laid open, might be forever rectified : 
 in this way domestic disturbances first arise. Never 
 make a third person the depository of your own private 
 history, when their advice is not needed. And last, 
 though not least, in the chapter of "considerations and 
 hints," do not marry too often ; but we are touching 
 upon a delicate subject, which everybody feels competent 
 to decide for himself. 
 12*
 
 DISCOURAGED GENIUS. 
 
 SOME people account poverty the greatest of calami 
 ties. For many certainly it has proved the greatest of 
 blessings. How many geniuses would have laid dormant ; 
 how many beautiful works of art, poetry, fiction, sculp 
 ture and oratory, would have been lost, or only have 
 been brain cogitations, had not the bitter need of neces 
 sity spurred on half-slumbering genius with the hope of 
 reward ! The hope of gain, profit, gold, has stimulated 
 more minds than all other incentives put together. The 
 finest sonnets have been composed in attics ; the most 
 splendid works of art have been produced in dark, ob 
 scure rooms, where the light of day hardly penetrated. 
 The first encouragement given to alleviate poverty has 
 forthwith sent an impetus to the brain, which has led to 
 the creation of the sublimest conceptions, and the rarest 
 specimens of elegant and refined literature. Yet what is 
 more pitiable than the confessions of men of the most 
 brilliant parts ; than the detail of the small appreciation 
 of their labors in their lifetime ? After death, posterity 
 may laud them to the skies ; but their heart-aches are 
 over, and the anguish of "hope deferred," or "promise 
 blighted," no more stings like an adder ! The encour 
 agement bestowed in one's life would have enriched the 
 world with many more and yet loftier specimens !
 
 SUMMER BOARDING. 
 
 "Birr I should prefer to board where at least there 
 was an air of gentility about the place," remarked Mrs. 
 Peters to her husband, in a somewhat irritated tone. 
 " Do look at my neighbors ; every one has gone to some 
 fashionable watering-place, or to some noted hotel, while 
 you are quite content to set yourself and me down in an 
 obscure farm-house, where the broom is handled by the 
 hostess, and the butter churned by her daughter ; and of 
 what use is such a life ? I know nothing of the world ; 
 I see no amusing flirtations, have no reason for dressing 
 for dinner in any different style, and for my evening en 
 tertainment I am obliged to listen to you and Uncle Jerry, 
 who talk only about mixing soils, or the best mode of 
 destroying caterpillars, or assigning perhaps half a 
 dozen theories to aid you in solving the mystery of the 
 decay of the button-wood trees in the front garden. 
 Now just think what interest, Mr. Peters, can I be ex 
 pected to take in such conversation?" 
 
 " But you forget the cheerful endeavors to serve and 
 please you which Aunt Kizzy makes, and her daughter 
 Hitty, who offers to read to you after their work is done, 
 and the nice griddle cakes, and the rich cream she so 
 generously mingles with the berries; and, above all, there
 
 140 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. + 
 
 is Mount Carmel, where the high-bushed blackberries 
 grow in such clusters, of which I ani sure you are equally 
 fond as myself. And all this, too, is furnished for so 
 reasonable a compensation ; the trifling sum of five dol 
 lars a week defraying all our expenses, including washing, 
 all the time we stayed in this farm-house." 
 
 "Ah! there's the secret," continued Mrs. Peters; 
 " the everlasting scarcity of money makes this place so 
 desirable to you. Why don't you make this excuse when 
 you are besieged to give for political purposes ? For my 
 part, I should prefer to stay half as long, and be able to 
 tell, when I returned, that I had seen somebody. I don't 
 care so much about the salubrious air, nor the fine scenery, 
 nor the rich cream of which Mrs. Hobbs is so liberal ; I 
 should prefer to be where I could see distinguished peo 
 ple genteel women, who manage to get at their hus 
 bands' purses and make a figure in the world. Farm 
 house rusticity does not suit my taste, and I won't conceal 
 the fact any longer." 
 
 " But I have already written Uncle Jerry, to know if 
 they would be pleased to receive us another summer upon 
 the same terms as the last." 
 
 "I hope you mentioned that to re-carpet our chamber 
 would be indispensable ; and instead of those old braid 
 ed mats there must be a nice rug ; and, for my part, 
 I shall insist upon a thicker mattress. There is no use 
 in paying one's money for nothing." 
 
 And now we will leave Mrs. Peters to do battle with 
 a vexatious mosquito, and her husband to reconcile hei 
 to rustic simplicity, while we take a peep into the sum 
 mer quarters among the green hills of Vermont. It is
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 141 
 
 a charming location. The farm-house is at the top of 
 the hill, and overlooks one of the most commanding 
 views, dotted with neighboring farm-houses, long fields of 
 waving corn, and now and then patches of heavy red and 
 white clover, which imparts a fragrancy to the air and is 
 enough to fill the heart of a city recluse with ecstatic joy, 
 notwithstanding Mrs. Peters's dissatisfaction. 
 
 But there is a discussion going on. Hitty is the 
 amanuensis, and sits biting her pen, awaiting orders what 
 to transfer to paper. It appears that a day or two before 
 Mr. Peters sent his request, Judge Conley was travelling 
 through this part of the country, and feeling the need 
 of the refreshing mountain breezes, he had inquired 
 whether he could be received into any farm-house in the 
 immediate vicinity, and an application was made to Mr. 
 Hobbs, the very person with whom Mr. and Mrs. Peters 
 had boarded. 
 
 The judge was a widower; a man of wealth, but an 
 admirer of nature. He sketched some ; he wished for 
 retirement ; was liberal in his offers, to remunerate our 
 friends, offering the same amount for himself as both 
 Mr. and Mrs. Peters paid ; and as he desired no change of 
 style, Mr. Hobbs was disposed to receive him. And now 
 came the question whether the Peters would be satisfied 
 with smaller accommodations, and whether, moreover, 
 they really wanted them on any consideration ; for it was 
 apparent to people of such good common sense, that Mrs. 
 Peters' element lay in more fashionable society ; so after 
 a full discussion it was concluded that they could not re 
 ceive the above couple, and Hitty was designated to put
 
 142 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 it in proper phraseology; which, with her good education, 
 was no difficult task. 
 
 Upon receiving the reply, it was indeed a wonder to 
 the superficial Mrs. Peters how a farmer's daughter could 
 dictate such a delightful note. "I am sure/' said she, 
 " I never saw Hitty use a pen, hut I always knew she 
 had studied grammar, and I have often wished, Mr. 
 Peters, we had treated the girl with more civility when 
 she came to the city last autumn ; but my heart is so 
 estranged from country cousins, I acted naturally." 
 
 " And so, wife, after all, we cannot board in our Green 
 Mountain State now where shall we go ? " 
 
 Mrs. Peters immediately suggested advertising in the 
 evening papers. It was late in the season ; all the fashion 
 able quarters were occupied ; but in a few days she re 
 ceived a statement of terms from the landlord of a cele 
 brated hotel, that a small, unoccupied chamber was vacant, 
 with a privilege in the common parlor, which could be 
 improved at the rate of twenty dollars per week ; and Mr. 
 Peters determined to- try the experiment of " genteel 
 hoarding." 
 
 Mrs. Peters was in ecstasy; her satins, silks and bareges 
 were refitted by the last fashion-plate, and she was soon 
 in free and easy conversation with the Joneses, the Hills, 
 and the Gills ; but she always scrupulously concealed the 
 fact that she had passed her two last summers at the 
 farm-house. She was careful never to introduce her 
 daughter Clarinda, who was at a boarding-school, to 
 Hitty Hobbs ; and so the daughter had formed an idea of 
 Miss Hobbs, as some awkward Green Mountain hoyden,
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 143 
 
 who knew only how to do rough work, and would shame 
 a city maiden by contact. 
 
 Mrs. Peters, however, in her new home, did not find 
 " genteel society " so comfortable as she expected. There 
 were cliques and parties ; there were jealousies, and envy, 
 and distrust. Mr. Peters was known as the tried hus 
 band, and sundry wives despised in others just what they 
 were guilty of being themselves. The small chamber 
 they occupied was filled with uncomfortable occupants ; 
 the buzzing of flies, the whizzing of mosquitoes, and the 
 glaring blaze of the sun, compelled her to draw a com 
 parison between that large, neat room she occupied in the 
 farm-house, where the eight-day clock ticked in the cor 
 ner, and fresh bouquets appeared on the mantel shelf. 
 Yet a month's board there cost no more than a week here 
 but gentility made the difference. 
 
 At the close of a sultry day towards autumn, the busy 
 rumor run the rounds that a newly-married couple, of 
 distinguished notoriety, had arrived, and would appear at 
 table. Expectation was on tiptoe, and the greatest prep 
 arations were made for sight-seeing, when, lo, at the 
 head of the table appeared Judge Conley and " she that 
 was Hitty Hobbs!" 
 
 Mrs. Peters could not control herself. She ran and 
 saluted the bride as her most intimate friend ; she wel 
 comed her ; she expressed so much regret at not passing 
 the present summer at her father's house ; she should 
 have been so delighted with Judge Conley's society ; and 
 that same evening it was proposed they should ride over 
 to the seminary to be introduced to her daughter 
 Clarinda.
 
 144 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 Mrs. Conley did not, however, accept such attentions 
 at this time, when she did not need them. She plainly 
 added, with the refusal, " Mrs. Peters, my marriage has 
 not deprived me of my original identity. When I visit 
 ed you as Hitty Hobbs, I was only a green country girl ; 
 my present position has added nothing to my worth of 
 character ; if I can ever oblige you I shall be happy to 
 do so, but I cannot accept your present civilities." 
 
 Mrs. Peters was so chagrined that she left her board 
 ing-house the next day ; but she was never after ashamed 
 to acknowledge that her most agreeable summer residence 
 was at the mansion of Uncle Jerry Hobbs. 
 
 Mr. Peters had no difficulty in inducing her to take 
 any room she might obtain with her Green Mountain 
 friends the next summer. And although Mrs. Conley 
 spent her summers still at her father's, yet she taught 
 Mrs. Peters such a salutary lesson in her daily courteous 
 conduct, that she was never after heard to complain of 
 rustic simplicity, nor did she again envy those who were 
 cooped up in genteel boarding-houses. By degrees she 
 learned to draw the distinction between the artificial and 
 the real, and though often led to feel the effects of a super 
 ficial education and misdirected taste, yet she never again 
 manifested the foolish airs which an ill-bred lady is sure 
 to assume when she departs from her true position. Mrs. 
 Peters did improve, and is now known as a quiet and 
 interesting women, shoAying how good sense can triumph 
 over a vain mind.
 
 A "GENUINE WIDOWER." 
 
 THE first deep shadow that ever rested upon Henry 
 Herbert's home was cast over it by the loss of his affec 
 tionate and devoted wife. It was indeed to him one of 
 those mysterious dispensations, the meaning of which we 
 know not now ; for there she stood at the domestic fire 
 side, idolized by her husband, and seemingly perfectly 
 indispensable to her two children, who were just at the 
 ages to demand her constant solicitude. Such a loss 
 seems always doubly painful to be borne by the father 
 when the children are quite insensible of their heavy 
 bereavement ; and Herbert never felt it more intensely 
 than when contemplating the little volatile movements of 
 his daughter Grace, who stood arranging a bunch of nat 
 ural flowers to make a garland for her mother's grave. 
 True, the child wept, and called to her dear mother, as 
 if invoking an ascending spirit in its upward flight ; but 
 then she dried her tears, and stood before her mirror 
 half an hour after, parting her auburn locks, and rolling 
 over her curls, so as to produce a pleasing effect for 
 girls at ten years of age are not altogether insensible to 
 the budding charms which belong to that period ; and 
 young Arthur Herbert, who was two years older than 
 Grace, had learned to put on his cap quite jauntily, and 
 13
 
 14(5 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 to exhibit some marks of precocity, which onlj made it 
 more apparent to others than himself how much he 
 needed the moulding influences of a judicious mother to 
 control his too-ripened propensities to manhood. It was 
 a dark day, therefore, when that wife and mother was 
 borne forever from those loved objects for whom she had 
 lived, and prayed, and sacrificed so much, and to whom 
 her husband still turned as if she were even now a 
 ministering angel, hoping by her unseen and gentle in 
 fluences to be still directed. If it were a mere fancy, 
 who would wish to dislodge it from such a troubled 
 breast 1 But what was to be done with this dependent 
 household 1 
 
 Mrs. Herbert was most unexpectedly taken from a 
 scene of labor and care over which her supervision was 
 supreme. If her husband was perplexed, she was his 
 comforter ; if he was sick, she was his nurse ; if he was 
 dejected, she was his sun ; in fine, one who smoothed all 
 the thorny experience of man's troubled life, and upon 
 whom he always leaned and sought counsel, assured that 
 only words of wisdom would direct him. Of course, the 
 faithful discharge of the maternal relation was not want 
 ing ; and while the feeling of desolation bore so sadly 
 upon Henry Herbert's heart, let us hear the first letter 
 he dictated to a very dear friend after his severe afflic 
 tion. 
 
 "Mr DEAR ANNA : I can never express to you in 
 language the painful sense of loss which everywhere 
 meets me since my beloved Lizzie has gone from my 
 aide. Savor was it more intensely realized than the first
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 147 
 
 morning our little family group ranged ourselves around 
 the breakfast-table. She who was ever the presiding 
 genius at that board, whose smile always made the most 
 lowering day open propitiously and hopefully, was not 
 there ; but, instead, a pert young housekeeper occupied 
 her chair, and by her attempts at affability and affected 
 good-humor strove to dissipate the sadness of our counte 
 nances. Perhaps it was a kind act, well intended, but I 
 could not bear it ; my coffee remained untasted, my roll 
 lay untouched on my plate. The children, of course, 
 partook of my emotion, and the housekeeper, being not 
 of any too sympathetic turn of mind, began to chide us. 
 'Why,' said she, 'Mr. Herbert, do you think nobody 
 ever buried a friend but yourself? Young as I am, I 
 have lost a husband ; but I was led by the grace of God 
 to feel it was all right. If I had yielded to the pressure 
 of the calamity, what would have become of my chil 
 dren ? No, sir, I immediately summoned my energies, 
 broke up housekeeping, put out my children to board, 
 secured a situation for myself, and determined to look 
 beyond the cloudy aspect. I at length succeeded, and 
 you see the cheerful acquiescence I have attained. Mr. 
 Herbert, you still have plenty of means to supply their 
 wants, and yet seem repining and unhappy.' 
 
 " There was a truth here which Mrs. Agnew pre 
 sented, but it,did not take hold of me as if uttered in a 
 sympathizing spirit. I wondered she dared express her 
 self so freely. I felt her husband was never to her what 
 my wife had been to me. It was too much ; and when 
 Maggy, our old trusty domestic, entered my room 
 soon after, with a deep sigh and said, ' 0, Mr. Herbert,
 
 148 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 we have indeed met with a sad loss, and I do not feel as 
 if I can stay with you under this new mistress,' it woke 
 up a tide of feeling, perfectly irresistible, and servant 
 and master wept together. Mrs. Agnew is not a pre 
 possessing woman in her manners. Maggy says sjie has 
 already dictated very unwisely to her, and as they have 
 had some slight altercation she is about to leave." 
 
 And now, if we will follow the journal of this dis 
 tressed widower, we shall have before us an exact picture 
 of human nature in its frequent manifestations. 
 
 " June 7th. It is now a month since dear Lizzie left 
 me. I begin to regain my composure, but I am terribly 
 oppressed with a sense of loneliness. A thousand ob 
 jects of interest, upon which she daily looked, tend to 
 keep her continually in my thoughts. There is her 
 writing-desk ; the unfinished manuscripts lay upon the 
 table ; a note addressed to a friend, but owing to some 
 circumstance never sent to her ; an unfinished piece of 
 fancy-work kept for a stray hour's amusement ; her 
 books, her pictures indeed, everywhere the mute ob 
 jects which her eyes or fingers rested upon. And where 
 is she now 1 conies to me with appalling force. Shall 
 we meet again 1 
 
 " July 9th. It is recommended by my friends that I 
 shall surrender housekeeping. Mrs. Agnew is con 
 stantly troubled with her servants, the children have 
 grown very restless under her management, and Arthur 
 refuses to obey her at all. It is thought I had better 
 send the children to some good boarding-school, and find
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 149 
 
 some home for myself where I shall be subject to less 
 perplexity, and sooner regain my former cheerfulness. 
 
 " July 20th. The decision is made, and I have been 
 gathering all the relics of dear Lizzie's handiwork for her 
 daughter Grace to preserve as a precious legacy. The 
 dear children are at a well-recommended school, and I 
 take lodgings to-morrow in a public house. It is 
 thought I shall be more in society in such a place, and 
 wear off the effects of my great loss. But the idea of 
 quitting a home where I have enjoyed the most exquisite 
 pleasures, where a holy charm seems to pervade even the 
 apartments through which she so often glided, and 
 adorned, is indeed painful. But then, with such a 
 housekeeper, what is left for me but to pursue this 
 course ? I cannot find one half the nice materials upon 
 which Lizzie expended so much time. Mrs. Agnew says 
 the servants must have carried them away. What was 
 in drawers is mostly abstracted ; but, as I never gave 
 attention to the minutiae of what was contained in trunks 
 and private receptacles, but gave all the keys to my 
 housekeeper, I have no means of knowing what was 
 purloined. But whoever is the aggressor must suffer 
 more by the gain than I can by the loss. 
 
 " Aug. 8th. I do not exactly enjoy this bustling 
 whirl in which I live. I sometimes picture to myself a 
 re-gathered family, where we can again garner up our 
 wasted hopes, and sit by our cheerful fireside. If there 
 were another Lizzie in this wide world who could but 
 supply the place of her who was gone but what have I 
 said ? It is it is scarcely five months since she left 
 13*
 
 150 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 me, and I have every week since watered her grave with 
 my tears. 
 
 " Sept. 20th. Have not visited my dear wife's grave 
 for three weeks. At first I had a misgiving, as if she 
 were conscious of the neglect ; but it is only the material 
 form which is entombed her gentle spirit would gladly 
 spare me from all unnatural grief. How much the 
 children need a home and a mother's care ! 
 
 " Oct. 17th. When I was first introduced to Amelia 
 Blond, she at once reminded me of my dear wife. True, 
 she is a mere girl compared with her some fifteen 
 years younger but still all the graces of womanhood 
 are fully developed. If heavens ! I blush to enter it 
 upon my journal ! How Mrs. Agnew, my old house 
 keeper, would glory in the fulfilment of her prophecy 
 made in my deepest bereavement ! ' Mr. Herbert,' said 
 she, ' your feelings will be materially changed in a few 
 months, and in less than a year I predict your marriage ! 
 Such violent grief never survives more than one season.' 
 I could have turned her from my threshold for such an 
 intimation ; but, alas ! how little we know ourselves ! 
 Lizzie, your image is still enshrined in my heart ; but 
 must I go weeping through the remainder of my journey 
 
 because you were taken from my side? 1 met Dr. 
 
 Frost yesterday ; he first ventured to joke me upon being 
 married again. This led to a serious conversation upon 
 the subject. The doctor has been through the depths of 
 affliction three successive times, and now is in the full 
 enjoyment of domestic bliss. He urged no objection to 
 Miss Blond but her age ; but some girls at twenty are as 
 fit to rule a household as others at fifty. I do not myself
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 151 
 
 think her age an insuperable objection ; she will be more 
 companionable to Grace. But how do I know that she 
 would marry a man so much her senior 1 The doctor 
 says, ' how will you know unless you ask her ? ' 
 
 " Nov. 4th. Since my last entry in my journal, I 
 have taken a great step. The proposal to marry Amelia 
 was accepted, and I find myself in a new world ; the old, 
 restless, disconsolate feeling I have endured seems leav 
 ing me. My weed is horribly rusty upon my hat, and 
 outward marks of mourning are superfluous. I have 
 thought I would not use any more crape surroundings. 
 I must express my feelings to my dear friend to whom I 
 so recently communicated my deep sorrow, well assured 
 that she will reply, ' Henry, I tremble for you.' ' 
 
 And let us hear the confession thus confidentially 
 made. It belongs to our humanity, that the sunshine 
 should succeed the storm, as much in the physical as the 
 material universe. 
 
 "My DEAR ANNA : As you have been the faithful 
 depository of my sorrows, it is but justice due to you to 
 be made acquainted with my joys. Know then, my good 
 friend, that having been crushed by the weight of sorrow, 
 and feeling the desolation of a heart that turns to another 
 for support, I met, by the merest accident, a lovely girl, 
 who so strikingly reminded me of my early love, that I 
 sought an introduction to her. She was stopping here 
 with her father for a few days. She is well connected ; 
 her father is cashier in a bank in Western New York. I 
 have been there, made my proposals, and have been ac 
 cepted ! Thus, dear Anna, you have been made ac-
 
 152 BUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 quainted -with this new feature in my history. Do not 
 ask me if I am demented ; far from it. Amelia Blond 
 is just about twenty years of age, lively, fascinating, per 
 fectly charming in conversation ; the idol in her home, 
 being the eldest child ; handsome, sweet-tempered, and 
 just such a being as would make Grace and Arthur one 
 of the most accomplished of companions, and the best of 
 mothers. I cannot, for I dare not, attempt to tell you 
 how I conceived of this beautiful being who has been 
 raised up to me to pour new life and happiness into my 
 once bruised heart. In personal beauty, she far exceeds 
 my departed wife ; besides, she has had all the modern 
 advantages of a fashionable education, which eminently 
 qualifies her to impart her gifts and graces to my chil 
 dren. I shall not be married until January have 
 rented a fine house ; and the very prospect of being once 
 again reinstated as a happy family quite elevates my 
 feelings, and makes me enthusiastic in the contemplation. 
 The children, too. are delighted with the prospect. Do 
 not chide my prompt action ; life is so brief we must 
 gather all the sunshine we can between its parted clouds. 
 " Yours, truly, H. H." 
 
 And thus the " dear Anna " playfully replied : 
 " Have I not the evidence before me, Henry, that you 
 are a genuine widower 1 Inconsolable the first month of 
 your bereavement ; not much relieved the second ; quite 
 convalescent the third ; beginning to look round you the 
 fourth ; find a lovely piece of human perfection the fifth ; 
 engage to marry her the sixth ; live on the ecstatic pros 
 pect the seventh ; and enter upon the glorious realization 
 the eighth ! Were you the first of your species who has
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 153 
 
 acted over the drama, I could joke you, or chide you, or 
 gravely caution you. But I always fear for those de 
 voted husbands with overpowering griefs at the loss of 
 their earthly idols. At the present period of your ecstasy 
 I shall therefore intrude no remonstrances, for I am well 
 assured you are in a dreamy state of bliss that nothing 
 but the reality will equalize. Let me, therefore, wish 
 you as much enjoyment as you anticipate ; and to ask 
 more would be superfluous. Truly, ANNA." 
 
 On the first of January, seven months from the death 
 of his idolized wife, Henry Herbert and Amelia Blond 
 were united in marriage. The new home was an attract 
 ive place. Grace and Arthur were delighted with their 
 new mother ; the father did not think her a day too 
 young for his wife, and the manifest pride with which he 
 introduced his wife, and the smile-lighted expression 
 which irradiated his features, bespoke the perfect satis 
 faction which pervaded his inner being. When we took 
 leave of Mr. Herbert, he seemed fully persuaded that it 
 was a wise dispensation which removed his first idol. 
 And although her memory was still fragrant, yet he 
 presented a living memorial that the crushed affections 
 may be reawakened, and that there is no heart, however 
 desolate, if it beats beneath a manly bosom, but may re 
 pair its loss. And too often the truth is self-evident 
 that the newly-repaired affections seem to flow out more 
 spontaneously and with deeper fervor than did the old ; 
 for, as an ancient writer quaintly remarks, ' ' the old 
 heart, rejuvenated by the fires of new passion, becomes 
 juvenile in its exhibitions of tenderness."
 
 THAT VACANCY. 
 
 DEATH does not make all our vacancies. There was 
 a nice little miss who lived over the way, and she con 
 ceived a most unfortunate attachment for his clerkship, 
 Mr. Anthony Dobbs, a youth of nineteen. It was a sad 
 event, worse than death. We are reconciled (or ought 
 to be) to what Providence sends ; but who would give 
 away a beautiful girl to a fellow who owned three or four 
 bottles of hair-oil, some nicely-perfumed handkerchiefs, 
 sundry parti-colored neck-stocks, the wearing apparel he 
 had on, and two pairs of white kids, one soiled, the 
 other fresh 1 Was it not lamentable to see the affections, 
 forgetful of such an inventory of worldly goods, march up 
 to Hymen's altar and make solemn vows to " love, protect, 
 and cherish," so much that was shadowy and unsubstan 
 tial? But, then, poets talk about love as "ethereal," 
 needing no substantial soups, only a few highly-spiced 
 condiments, to support the interior life. Certain gross 
 people, not understanding this definition, have been fool 
 ish enough to accumulate means whereby the larder and 
 cellar can be supplied ; but they are the beef-eaters of 
 this lower world, who imagine a house, a table, and 
 worldly goods, are quite essential ! How wonderful that 
 such a theory should ever have taken so deep a root in 
 this pleasure-taking world !
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 155 
 
 Then there is another vacancy of a different kind. Do 
 you remember the bachelor, with a high dickey and stiff 
 gait, -who was always advocating the laws of health, and 
 took so much exercise that he used to be facetiously 
 called "the walking-ticket"? He boarded, ever since 
 our grandmother's day in Pelham-street, at the " crack 
 house " of Mrs. Wines. Well, he has been caught, and 
 there is a vacancy. Poor fellow ! how he hated music ; 
 but his dulcinea drags him to every concert in town. As 
 to parties, he abominated everything of the kind but a 
 game of whist with gentlemen. Now, the carriage is 
 ordered at ten to attend a fancy ball, and he dresses in 
 pumps, and says, " Coachman, call, at one o'clock, at 
 No. " How long think you it will be before some 
 malady seizes him and lays him on the sick-bed ? And, 
 then, that young wife, will she sit by a dull lamp and 
 drop medicines, and warm flannels, and act like a faithful 
 nurse in his declining years ? How fortunate it is wo 
 are not made of glass, and transparent all the way 
 through ! How well it is that half our dissatisfactions we 
 can throw off upon some "pain" or "an affection of the 
 liver" ! The doctor cannot tell where the twinge cornea 
 from which causes us to make a wry face. You tell him 
 it is in the toe; he discerns a slight inflammation there. 
 Poh, nonsense ; it is in the heart. 
 
 But we were on vacancies. Weariness of the same 
 place makes many decamp. This disease comes on with 
 depression, proceeds to a cough, and thence to a southern 
 latitude, to escape easterly winds. A whole family are 
 thus scattered. 
 
 Fuahion, too, makes many vacancies. The house is
 
 156 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 too small ; the street is too narrow ; the children have 
 no play-room ; the acquaintances maintain more style ; 
 and so removals must ensue. And, then, comes a weari 
 ness of one's country. People have been west, have 
 seen Niagara, lived summers at the Springs, been to 
 Virginia cotton-fields, ascended Mt. Washington, looked 
 at the jumping-off place down-east, and what can excite 
 them here 7 Plainly they must take the steamship and 
 go abroad. They would travel through High Holborn, 
 peep into Westminster Abbey, pass through Switzerland, 
 spend a winter in Rome, see the crater of Mt. Vesuvius, 
 come back to Paris, get a smattering of all things, 
 fashions and people, and return home by the way of 
 New York ! 
 
 Having seen all this world, we sometimes wonder they 
 don ; t turn their attention to another ; but few seem to 
 do this, and any premonition, in the form of gout or 
 consumption, draws the '-faculty" in earnest consulta 
 tion upon their case, and every conceivable thing is done 
 lest they should leave this world, which is so trying. 
 And, when they must die, how they grasp still at fleet 
 ing shadows ! sometimes undetermined where to bestow 
 what they cannot carry with them, distrustful of every 
 body, altering last wills, subjoining codicils, making 
 strange bequests, passing away with great parade through 
 public streets, and leaving places vacant ! 
 
 All this we daily witness, and never once think of 
 expressing our profound gratitude that we are corruptible 
 rather than transparent, for those we leave behind to 
 criticize our real characters.
 
 "SELLING OFF AT COST." 
 
 " WHERE did you get that splendid lace upon your 
 cape?" inquired Mrs. Eager of her neighbor, Mrs. 
 Higgins. 
 
 "Why, I purchased it at Fonday's; did you know 
 they were selling off at cost? " Mrs. Higgins then un 
 rolled an elegant striped silk, she had just purchased for a 
 dress, only fifty cents a yard ! a nice de laine, only nine- 
 pence ! lots of prints only fourpence ! and a splendid 
 pocket handkerchief at six dollars, the original price of 
 which was twelve ! 
 
 Poor Mrs. Eager took fire at such a display at once : 
 she never saw such bargains in her life. True, she was 
 not in want of any of 'these articles just now; but what 
 of that? A good thing in the wearing apparel line 
 neither eats nor drinks anything. She would have a 
 silk dress, that was so cheap ; and there was some lace, 
 just such as she wanted, at half price. The de laine 
 would make a beautiful morning-dress. What matter was 
 it if she had half a dozen already ? It was so cheap ! 
 At all events she must have a pocket handkerchief to 
 carry to Mrs. Milnor's ball. And with these thoughts 
 dancing through her brain, she immediately equipped 
 herself and started to Fonday's, where a flaming placard, 
 14
 
 158 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 with "No humbug selling less than cost," announced 
 to her that this was the place, although sundry neigh 
 bors purported to be selling the same. 
 
 Sure enough there was a most tempting display. 
 Heaps of silk, glittering and changing in hue ; elegant 
 laces, varying in prices, but all decidedly cheap ; prints, 
 patches, linens, cambrics, satins and velvets, all by turns 
 attracted our friend's attention. And then the clerks 
 were so attentive, so ready to accommodate, and even 
 Mr. Fonday himself stepped forward and inquired : 
 
 " Mrs. Eager, let me sell you a bill of goods to-day? " 
 to which Mrs. Eager replied : 
 
 "Money is so scarce, Mr. Fonday, I am quite limited 
 in my purchases this season." 
 
 "That need not make the slightest difference," re 
 marked the good-natured shopman ; " take just what you 
 please, have the goods booked, and pay just when it best 
 suits you." 
 
 Was ever any one so accommodating ? Well, thought 
 Mrs. Eager, this is the first bill I ever ran up in a dry- 
 goods store; but where 's the harm? Mr. Eager, I 
 know, would not approve of it; he always says, " Pay as 
 you go, wife; " but I know he is short just now, and I do 
 want these things. She hesitated a moment, and then all 
 was over. Her decision was made to take all she wanted, 
 it was such a good chance. One silk was so beautiful, 
 she thought she would take fifteen yards of that piece. 
 Then there was another less elegant, but still very use 
 ful for some occasions, she would have a dress from 
 that. As to laces, she was surprised to hear she had 
 selected fifteen dollars' worth, and. having completed her
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 159 
 
 trading, the footing of her bill amounted to a trifle over 
 seventy-five dollars ! Not one of these things was to be 
 used now ; but then she remembered they were all 50 
 cheap. She was truly glad to obtain so many things to 
 lay away. She thought it would be better to withhold 
 the fact of her purchases from her husband, until money 
 grew easier, and the banks discounted more freely. 
 
 Mr. Eager came home to dinner sick and dispirited. 
 He protested he could not get on much longer unless 
 there came a change for the better ; and upon Mrs. Eager 
 expressing much sympathy for him, he bade her keep up 
 good cheer, be economical as possible, and perhaps by 
 and by things would change for the better. For the first 
 time, Mrs. Eager wished all her goods back again in the 
 shop whence they were taken. But what was to be 
 done 1 They harassed her mind, and she stowed them 
 all away in a back closet, putting them out of sight, hop 
 ing to get them out of mind. We will leave them there 
 for the present, and return to Fonday's. 
 
 "I will look at your choice laces," said a little miss 
 of some eighteen years. She selected of the prettiest 
 patterns, and "How much do you ask for this?" she 
 inquired. 
 
 "Two dollars a yard, miss, just such as we have 
 been selling for three dollars." 
 
 "I can't think of giving that. Mrs. Higgins bought 
 one here for four and sixpence, which looked equally as 
 well." 
 
 "You are mistaken, I think," replied the clerk; 
 "this is real Mechlin, a most superb article," and he 
 compared the two. " They looked just alike, but they
 
 160 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 were entirely different ! " So, after coaxing and praising, 
 our little miss took the lace at the clerk's price. The 
 difference was so unimportant, that when Mrs. Higgins 
 and Miss B. met, a lady present remarked : 
 
 " So, ladies, I perceive you have both been to Fon- 
 day's." The -price made the difference! 
 
 "Let me see some of your nicest black silks," said one 
 of some dozen who were pulling over goods and troubling 
 the clerks. It was shown her. " What is the price? " 
 
 "One dollar per yard, madam, and the best article 
 ever sold in the market for that price;" and he twitched, 
 and folded, and rumpled it together to test its various 
 qualities. 
 
 " One dollar ! Why, I saw just as good a little below 
 here for eighty-seven and a half cents per yard. I 
 thought you were selling at cost." So saying, the lady 
 twirled it over her finger, and held it up to the light ; 
 " It ; s decidedly rusty," said she ; " it looks dull ; let me 
 see some with a better lustre." 
 
 " We have none," said the clerk, "of any richer qual 
 ity." The silk was replaced upon the shelf. 
 
 "Let me look at your merinos." 
 
 They were handed down, and our fashionable shopper 
 declared they were much higher than any she had seen. 
 She thus went, pricing and decrying the goods, through 
 the whole length of the shop, and at last returned where 
 she started from, to look once more at that piece of rusty 
 silk. " I don't know," said she, " but I would take this 
 at four and sixpence a yard." But the clerk was in 
 flexible, and the lady left. She returned, however, that 
 same afternoon, and took the whole piece at one dollar
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 161 
 
 per yard ! "I'm an old shopper" she remarked, as 
 the silk was measured, " and generally know what I am 
 about, before I purchase." Who doubted that part of 
 her story 1 
 
 Mrs. Green's carriage is at the door. She has read 
 the advertisement, and although she has been laid ;*p 
 with the influenza for some weeks, yet she thought she 
 would venture out and look at some cap laces. Swiss 
 muslins, tarltan muslins, book muslins, &c., were all 
 exhibited, but nothing suits; she has seen richer and bet 
 ter for far less money. Mrs. Green, however, thought a 
 fourpenny print "was pretty," and actually bought one 
 to give her waiting-maid for a new-year's present ! 
 
 This is a specimen of some people who make "the 
 rush" at those stores which advertise selling off at cost. 
 They literally demand the goods to be given away. But, 
 thank fortune, there are exceptions. There is Mrs. 
 Tibbs, she knows what she wants, inquires for it, and, if 
 it suits, takes it. There is Mrs. Bond, and a host of 
 others, who generously patronize dry goods establish 
 ments, and are willing to pay for what they buy. Were 
 this class extinct, where would be the shop-keepers '? 
 
 " I declare," said Fonday, one night to his- partner, 
 " this 'selling off at cost' is a ruinous business, after all." 
 He looked at the list of notes payable and those receiva 
 ble. He estimated the store expenses. Twenty clerks 
 to be paid, a book-keeper at a large salary, and three 
 families, all living in genteel style, with the goods 
 marked down and selling off at cost. It was a difficult 
 problem to make both ends meet, and were it not that in 
 previous years there had been an accumulation, it never 
 14*
 
 162 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 could have been done. " I have taken during two weeks 
 since my goods were marked doAvn," pursued Fonday, 
 " cash to the amount of twenty thousand dollars ; we have 
 booked about ten thousand, and have sold our most de 
 sirable articles, and upon the remainder there must be a 
 further reduction, or we shall never get them off." 
 
 "No," replied the partner, "get in some new ones, 
 advertise again, and by degrees we shall clear them all 
 out," 
 
 They did so ; but here were new liabilities assumed, 
 and if no profit, how much loss think you, accrues? 
 And upon whom is that to fall? If the firm are able 
 to stand it, of course they are impoverished ; if not, it 
 falls upon those who first sold the goods ; and so the evil 
 consequences are traceable far back, and we hear of 
 much derangement in trade, unexpected failures, great 
 scarcity of money, banks that won't discount, and a 
 train of evils. If " selling off at cost " is really what it 
 purports to be, how can it be but a ruinous affair ? 
 
 There is another evil ; goods are put at prices which, 
 unless afterward adhered to, will not be purchased. 
 Other traders, who are pursuing the old way of fair 
 profits, are neglected; for people will flock where goods 
 can be purchased cheapest. I remember an anecdote in 
 point. A short time since a small, insignificant-looking 
 back store stood full a mile from any thoroughfare, in a 
 little dirty street. But the man advertised "goods from 
 auction at unprecedented low prices." In the course of 
 a week, so great was the rush, that the passage-way 
 leading to the store was literally blocked up all hours in 
 the day. He sold laces for one cent, which were held at
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 163 
 
 three cents everywhere ; and gloves for four cents, actu 
 ally worth eight ; and women will find out such things ! 
 
 But we will turn to Mrs. Eager. She was invited to 
 a large party, and she could not resist the temptation to 
 show that elegant silk she had laid away in the dark 
 closet. Her mantua-maker advised her by all means to 
 have it made up ; it would show off splendidly by gas 
 light. But then if Mr. Eager should find it out, as dis 
 appointed and tried as he was already, what would be 
 the consequence? Vanity will make us risk conse 
 quences, and the silk was carried to a shop and made in 
 elegant style. Mr. Eager always knew when his wife 
 looked well, but could never tell what she wore. So 
 they started for the party with the unpaid dress, and 
 Mrs. Eager seemed to forget the past, and enjoy only the 
 present. 
 
 Soon after they entered the gay assembly, a volatile 
 young lady thus addressed Mr. Eager : 
 
 " So your wife has come out in Fonday's richest silk. 
 I saw it there, and meant to have purchased it, but Mrs. 
 Eager had got the start of me. Fonday told me he sold 
 her a nice bill of goods." 
 
 Mr. Eager was thunderstruck, and said nothing, but 
 gave an assumed laugh, and passed on. His enjoyment 
 for that evening was at an end. He seemed abstracted, 
 dull and cheerless, and no one could divine the cause 
 not even his wife. They returned home, and she began 
 to chide her husband for inattention. This elicited the 
 whole matter, and Mr. and Mrs. Eager were changed in 
 tone. For the second time, Mrs. Eager wished all her 
 purchases in the store whence they were taken.
 
 164 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 A few days after, while sitting at dinner (having made 
 up the disagreement), the bell rang violently, and the 
 bill was handed to Mr. Eager, which his wife had run up 
 at Fonday's. For the third time, Mrs. E. wished those 
 goods back again in the store. 
 
 " If I had ever deprived you of money when you had 
 asked it ; if you had not known my wishes respecting 
 bills being left unpaid; if you had not deceived me " 
 but why pursue his conversation? The bill was paid, 
 and Mrs. Eager never again bought what she had not 
 cash to pay for at the time. 
 
 " But I have bills at a number of stores," says one. 
 
 "And so do I," replies another. 
 
 Let me ask you one question, ladies ; do you never 
 purchase many articles in this way which with cash in 
 hand you would feel that you did not need ? The answer 
 to this question tells whether it is expedient or not to 
 purchase on trust. It may be convenient, it may be 
 agreeable to your husband that you should do so ; then 
 very well, but never, never deceive a man, never let a 
 long account be passed to him, if he disapproves the 
 practice. Such little breaks in the domestic threads of 
 love should be carefully avoided by every good wife.
 
 THE UNFINISHED PICTURE. 
 
 HAVING recently called upon a family, consisting of 
 three daughters and one son, who had just returned from 
 a fashionable watering-place, their fertile imaginations 
 were busy in the future, as a great event was about to 
 take place. "Hattie," one of the young ladies, had 
 recently become engaged, and that most fruitful topic of 
 "Who is he?" having been disposed of (not exactly as 
 some of the friends would have desired), the subject of 
 bridal fashions formed the chit-chat of the whole call. 
 We will premise that the lady's father was only in mod 
 erate circumstances, and leave the reader to judge of the 
 wants, and their reasonableness, by a simple description. 
 
 "Hattie is to be married," said the mother, "in 
 splendid white brocade. The article is of recent importa 
 tion, and cost five dollars per yard. Is n't it a beautiful 
 article? Her pocket-handkerchief cost twenty-five dol 
 lars, and she is now teasing her father for a diamond 
 bracelet. Dear child ! it is an event that seldom hap 
 pens more than once in a lifetime, and I do not wonder 
 the child feels a little particular in the style of her 
 dress," continued her fond mother. " The bridal hat 
 must be of corn-color. That is decidedly, girls, the 
 most genteel, the most expensive, and the most tasteful."
 
 166 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 " And -where will they live? " inquired a friend. 
 
 " 0, that is undecided ! Probably board for the 
 present. My child is a perfect novice in domestic affairs. 
 She cannot assume the cares of housekeeping, at any 
 rate." 
 
 "But, ma," drawled out the engaged Hattie, "I can 
 get a cookery-book, and that will teach me everything. 
 I can, then, make ices and cream-cakes, and all those 
 splendid fixings we have had for desserts all the past 
 summer." And the girl was on tiptoe at the very 
 thought of her luxurious living. Poor thing ! we pitied 
 her. We could not, however, forbear to ask who was 
 most in fault, that mother or the daughter. 
 
 There was a rumor, a few days after this interview, 
 of a heavy failure ; the father of Hattie was interested in 
 the same concern, and he, too, was declared a bankrupt ! 
 And once more the attention of people was directed to 
 the young man to whom she was about to be married. 
 Nobody knew who he was, excepting that he had passed 
 on idle summer at the Springs, and had a love of sketch 
 ing from nature for his own amusement ; but here was a 
 sketch in real life, and the picture lay in a very unfin 
 ished state. Can any one write the description of such 
 a family 1 We gladly turn over the canvas, for we can 
 anticipate the sombre shade which filled it.
 
 MARRYING TOO LATji. 
 
 "THERE is no season," said my Uncle Richard. "I 
 dread like the approach of spring. It is not that I have 
 not a taste for opening buds and blossoms ; it is not that 
 I am not a lover of rural pleasures ; but it is because 
 your Aunt Hannah seems to have so many newly-blown 
 ideas and wants, that I find it hard to steer clear of the 
 breakers. I don't know the peculiarities of other women, 
 for I never studied the female sex much. You know I 
 lived a bachelor until I was eight-and-forty, and what the 
 deuce I ever married for, sometimes proves a vexing 
 question to me. But still I do know the reason. I felt 
 lonely sometimes. I used to get irritated with landladies, 
 and mad at house-servants, and provoked with washer 
 women ; and whenever I spoke of my troubles to my 
 friend Squire, he used to say, ' All this, Dick, comes from 
 single blessedness ; ' and I was fool enough to believe 
 him. Then I had a terrible tussle with myself to know 
 whom I had better marry ! I hired a pew in the broad 
 aisle of Dr. Brod well's church ; for they said this was a 
 good place to look out for a wife ; so I opened the window 
 of my heart, lifted my embossed prayer-book, and re 
 peated, ' Good Lord, deliver us ; ' but I am afraid now it 
 was not an acceptable prayer.
 
 168 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 " Well, Judith Dunn, the widow, sat right before me. 
 She had three little daughters, all arrayed in black for 
 their ' dear papa; ' and Mrs. Dunn wore so thick a veil I 
 never could penetrate beneath it to see her face, until 
 about the fourth Sunday after I took the pew. Then she 
 brushed by me, and, hitting the flap of my coat just as 
 she was turning the corner, ' Excuse me, Mr. Guy,' said 
 Bhe. It was enough. Squire saw her, said she had 
 money, told what well-behaved children the little Dunns 
 were, what a nice wife she made, what an amiable dispo 
 sition she had, how she mourned her husband's death, and 
 the uncertainty of her ever marrying again. 
 
 " 'Find out that last fact for me,' said I to Squire. 
 So, having committed myself, I must stand the racket. 
 
 "Squire made an errand to Mrs. Dunn's house, feigning 
 a kind of inquiry about a man indebted to her late hus 
 band and himself. The widow appeared terribly down 
 cast, and Squire awkwardly said, ' I hope your days of 
 mourning will not last forever. Time assuages grief, 
 and it may be your duty to yet form another connection.' 
 
 " ' 0, heavens ! ' exclaimed the widow, ' never, never, 
 Mr. Squire. My heart is broken I can never love 
 another man. My husband, sir, was one of a thousand.' 
 
 " ' I left her,' said Squire, ' but just as my hand was 
 on the latch to go, she inquired, " Do you know, sir, who 
 that gentleman is who has taken the pew adjoining mine 
 in our church '? " 
 
 " ' 0. yes ; he is my friend Guy, an old bachelor, but 
 a sterling man, worth his thousands, full of good-humor, 
 and on the look-out for a wife, as we say.'
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 169 
 
 " Mrs. Dunn evidently looked brighter, and remarked, 
 ' He is very fine-looking what is his business? ' 
 
 " ' A commission merchant,' I replied, ' and a law-and- 
 order man always on the right side. Shall I bring him 
 in and introduce him to you, madam 1 You seem so lonely 
 a little society must cheer you.' 
 
 " 'Do as you please, Mr. Squire; but you know all 
 gentlemen are alike to me nowj and she wiped her eyes. 
 
 "Squire told me all this," pursued Uncle Richard, 
 " and the widow Dunn was forever after before me. I 
 went again to my pew, but ere I started I remember 
 twitching off half a dozen dickeys before I could get one 
 of becoming height. I ordered a new coat from my 
 tailor, and for the first time in my life actually stood 
 upon a stool in my chamber, against a looking-glass, to 
 ascertain whether it was a complete fit. I bought per 
 fumery, carried real lawn handkerchiefs instead of ban 
 dannas ; and all for what 1 Why, the widow Dunn, to 
 be sure ! And who would believe a man of eight-and- 
 forty could have been such a fool ? /, too, who had con 
 demned all the striplings for such folly, who was so indif 
 ferent all my previous life to women, how could / be so 
 altered a man 1 /, who used to go to bed to dream of 
 advances or falls in cotton ; who used to write long arti 
 cles on free trade and the tariff; who studied the state 
 of mercantile affairs far more than my Bible /, Rich 
 ard Guy, entrapped by a green widow ! I could scarcely 
 believe in my identity, for all my thoughts were turned 
 upon this subject : Will she marry me ? How can I best 
 insinuate myself in her good graces ? 
 
 " I made my call with Squire, all forearmed to admire ; 
 16
 
 170 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 but when the tall, graceful woman entered the room, and 
 put on such a sweet smile, and added, ' I am happy to 
 see you, gentlemen,' I was what Squire called 'smashed 
 all done for gone.' 
 
 " I had no peace then, nor have I since ; for hefore I 
 obtained her consent, I worried myself to death about 
 her reply and after I got the affirmative, golden 
 dreams of bliss made a new world for me. And then my 
 married friends were forever congratulating me, for there 
 is no truer saying than ' misery loves company.' There 
 was but one incorrigible old widower, and whenever I 
 spoke to him of marrying again, he would tartly reply, 
 ' A burnt child dreads the fire.' I thought he was a pest 
 to the race. I think better of him now. 
 
 " But Mrs. Dunn, after a short courtship, became Mrs. 
 Guy. She was not a woman of truth, for did she not 
 declare, again and again, she never should marry ? Now, 
 if a person deceives one way, they are very apt to in 
 another. And then again, there were some embarrassing 
 circumstances attendant upon our union. The children 
 were forever calling me ' Pa ' before my old comrades, and 
 I felt kind of sensitive to such a word, especially when I 
 saw an unmistakable smile playing about the corners of 
 their mouths. 
 
 " But it always appeared to me Mrs. Guy was a singular 
 woman. She did not appear half as captivating after her 
 marriage as before. She had so many wants, there was 
 never any satisfying them. And then the worst part of 
 all were her allusions. ' Mr. Guy, you know my thirds 
 would have made me independent without you ' and 
 this was a terrible cross, since I knew nothing of her
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 171 
 
 thirds. Certainly the other two-thirds were quite enough" 
 for me to be acquainted with. 
 
 " And now, as I began, I repeat it, there was no sea 
 son I so much dreaded as the spring. About the middle 
 of April she always commenced talking about going out 
 of town. I inveighed against it, but she would forever 
 add, ' Do you not wish to avoid taxation, Mr. Guy ? My 
 poor husband used to say he saved all his summer's rent 
 at Oakland, and more besides, by these early removals.' 
 So, to keep peace the first year, I did so, and had the 
 pleasure of being publicly recorded as one who escaped 
 taxation never charging it upon my wife, where it 
 belonged. The second year Ave let our house arid fur 
 niture standing, to my wife's cousins, a newly-married 
 couple, because they could do no harm without chil 
 dren to wear and tear. I wish you could have seen 
 the house in the autumn the yard the back pas 
 sage the drains. You would write an essay upon 
 filthy, dirty housekeepers, I am confident. Suifice it to 
 say, we paid one hundred dollars for repairs, beyond 
 what we received, besides reckoning the cost of the new 
 carpets for our drawing-rooms. Jupiter ! how I wanted 
 to vent my ire. If it had only been in a boarding-house, 
 or a deception any one else had practised, I could have 
 found some relief in words. But who ever thought 
 well of a man who exclaimed against his wife's move 
 ments ? I remember how it struck me when I was a 
 bachelor, and any of the men spoke disrespectfully of 
 their wives. I thought they ought to be blown up. 
 
 " A thousand times, as I reviewed my life, I have 
 been perplexed to find the solution of my marrying a
 
 172 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 widow and with three daughters ! What if they had 
 money enough to support them 1 Was it not a great 
 care I assumed? Might I not have known the mis 
 eries of so much clear-starching 1 Then was it not 
 no.tural that Mrs. Guy should always be in a worry 
 about her children ? Some people tried to comfort me, 
 saying that I ought to be thankful there was only one 
 set of them. But when a man begins to feel a little 
 weather-beaten, and somewhat rheumatic, he wants a 
 snug little corner in his large house, where he may grunt 
 and groan just as much as he pleases. He don't want to 
 be forever pestered about Clara's beau, and Judith's offer, 
 and Susy's walking with a Carolinian. Besides, who 
 wants to see a rocking-chair always in motion, or a 
 young man talking in an undertone ? 
 
 "And then, too, what harassing work the spring 
 makes about journeys ! Why, I used to take my carpet 
 bag and umbrella, and say to my landlady, ' Shall not 
 probably be back for ten days.' All my cares were left 
 behind with my old slippers ; but now it is ' Father, 
 I have left my India rubbers Susy has forgotten her 
 sunshade that shawl is missing where 's the basket 
 of oranges, and your thick shoes, and my sack, father ? ' 
 0, it wears the life out of a man of any age ! Then, of 
 all things, who wants a house filled with dress-makers, 
 seamstresses and cousins, who come in to sew a few days? 
 I tell you, I should rather double Cape Horn and be 
 landed among the Fejee islanders." 
 
 " Why, Uncle Richard, you grow frantic. Your wife 
 calls." 
 
 " I merely wish to say, Mr. Guy, that you may order
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 178 
 
 the carriage at twelve, and I wish you would help me 
 pack the travelling-trunk, and just go over to the gro 
 cer's and fill the hand-basket with oranges, figs, and the 
 like, for our Susy. She ; s a great dyspeptic, you know, 
 and loaths the sight of meat." 
 
 I felt for Uncle Richard, and the more because I could 
 not help him. There is a project yet on foot for him to 
 -visit England. Mrs. Guy says, " The best educations 
 are completed abroad." 
 
 u But we must take things as they are," I repeated, 
 " when we cannot make them as we wish." It was a dry 
 moral, and, as the good man crushed a fresh-blown dande 
 lion under his foot, I saw there was but cold comfort in 
 the words I uttered. 
 
 Then I returned home and soliloquized upon a bache 
 lor. Take a man who has lived eight-and-forty years, 
 and he is a strange animal. Look at his independence. 
 He can smoke, drink, chew, sit with his legs upon the 
 mantel shelf, have a mountain of newspapers by his side, 
 a hearth all covered with dust and ashes, a lounge with a 
 rickety foot, and a closet door with the lock torn off. 
 What does he care ? There are choice baskets of cham 
 pagne in the cellar, no dishonored drafts, no unpaid bills, 
 no tuition fees, no band-boxes in his way, no laces or rib 
 bons on his bureau, no teetotums belonging to "Tommy," 
 nor grace-hoops to " Clara." Sundry old coats hang 
 in the closet, unmended shirts are in the old hair trunk, 
 a chambermaid, all obliging, in the kitchen, to obey his 
 commands, a landlady who admires single gentlemen 
 boarders ; and what fastidious worshipper of worldly con 
 veniences could wish for more ? Why, then, should such 
 15*
 
 174 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 specimens of humanity trouble their heads about women ? 
 Yet you may listen to all their private intercourse with 
 the fraternity, and never will you find them ready to 
 separate, but some joke about women will be perpetrated. 
 They may ridicule, boast of their independence, of their 
 freedom from the trammels of the sex, but still they will 
 talk about women ; and, as all this seems a natural pro 
 pensity, we must come to the conclusion, after all, that 
 men and women were made to live together. Only the 
 mistake lies in marrying too late in life, as did my Uncle 
 Richard.
 
 THE HENPECKED HUSBAND. 
 
 WELL, I suppose Mrs. Pipps did suffer with "nervous 
 headaches" and "spasms ;" but was that any reason why 
 she should keep all her family in a pucker ? Why could 
 she not let the wind alone, if it blew from the east ? Why 
 not let it rain as hard as ever it did ? Why not let the sun 
 shine so hot as to blister, and the dews fall so heavy as 
 to wet her through ? Surely, Mr. Pipps could not help 
 these things, and she was not exposed to bear them, and 
 it only made others unhappy to be forever in a fuss 
 about them. 
 
 And then Mrs. Pipps was never well. This was a 
 great source of unhappiness ; but why need one ugly 
 pain put everybody else in a state of torture ? And the 
 poor woman kept up such ceaseless complaints. "There 
 never was a worse cook than Bridget ; she never made 
 anything fit to be eaten ; the cakes for breakfast were 
 overdone, and the mutton for dinner was burnt up. and 
 who wanted burnt mutton chops and wa,tery potatoes for 
 a meal "? And then the chimney smoked when she felt 
 very nervous, and it ought to have been swept long ago ; 
 besides, the kitchen was always in a hubbub, and there 
 must be a change of servants. One day she desired her 
 husband to get her a new kind of pills ; the next some
 
 176 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 liniment, and the third day a patent medicine that 
 was invigorating in the spring. Sometimes she believed 
 herself going into a deep consumption, and then, again, 
 her liver was affected. 
 
 Yet, Mr. Pipps was a pattern man. He never told 
 his wife she was " fidgety;" that exercise and air would 
 strengthen her nerves ; because he knew such imaginary 
 diseases were to be differently treated from real ones. 
 Whatever she wanted, he helped her to procure. Still, 
 he looked the sicker of the two ; he was sallow, and the 
 crowsfeet settled about his eyes, and his hair was 
 sprinkled quite too early for his years. He was, more 
 over, a patient man always told the children to mind 
 what their mother said to them, and never to cross her 
 in her wishes. 
 
 And yet Mrs. Pipps was solicitous about others as 
 well as herself. She would send Sammy a mile out of 
 his way after school to inquire how old Captain BodAvell 
 did; and she sent with the message an "infallible 
 recipe" for his gout, which she cut out of an almanac, 
 and a recipe for nice bread, for his cook to try. To Mrs. 
 Budd she ordered a nice jelly, after she had fretted 
 about its being slightly acid ; and there was not a case 
 of scarletina, cough, or asthma, among her acquaintances, 
 but she could recommend a cure ; so she was ' not a 
 selfish woman, and Mrs. Pipps, although a great trial 
 at home, was quite popular abroad. As to visiting, she 
 never did more than make a call, and that must be some 
 delightful morning, in a close carriage, with the strict 
 injunction if the wind veered easterly to be driven back 
 immediately.
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 177 
 
 Some people wondered this woman did not read more, 
 and divert her attention from self. But, suppose she 
 took a newspaper. Why, the first thing her eye would 
 rest upon would be a " late awful tragedy," or some 
 body was " robbed ;" and such a fermentation ensued, 
 one might fancy her almost deranged. And then, the 
 fear that Mr. Pipps was assassinated, if he chanced to 
 stay out an hour later than usual, drove her into hyster 
 ics, and hartshorn, and cold water, arid valerian, all lost 
 their power. Sometimes sudden sickness seized her, and 
 then she fancied her flannels were not well aired, or too 
 much wind blew into the chamber through the key-hole, 
 and the windows and doors must henceforth be air-proof. 
 Another severe trial to her was living near an engine- 
 house. She never slept soundly (such people never do), 
 and her fear lest the fire was in her husband's store, or 
 down at Netty's house (her married daughter's), knew 
 no bounds until Mr. Pipps was up and dressed, and in 
 terrogated the firemen ; thus knowing, for a certainty, 
 where the great smoke came from. There never was a 
 watchman's rattle sprung from midsummer to midwinter 
 but she heard it ; and then she knew there were thieves, 
 or some foul play, and she would sit up wrapped in flan 
 nels and dressing-gown and shawls, until she had ascer 
 tained the cause. Finally,her disposition was so excitable 
 that both husband and daughters kept much concealed 
 from her; but, if by chance it ever got reported, a 
 heavy woe rested on the household. And she was such 
 a prey to superstitious fears that her mind was never at 
 ease. She saw letters with black seals in burning can 
 dles, and heard death-watches behind her bed, and
 
 178 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 dreamed about certain events which just as clearly fore 
 told that something was going to happen, that, had it not 
 been so for years, a whole family might have been filled 
 with gloomy forebodings. 
 
 Things grew worse and worse. Mr. Pipps had no rest 
 day nor night, and such self-denying men will wear out 
 after a while. Indeed, nobody thought his life desirable, 
 and old Aunt Esther said she thought "he would have a 
 dry funeral." The "general debility," which had fol 
 lowed him for years, took a more decided form, and after 
 a night of unusual fatigue to procure his wife a bottle of 
 "Nervous Anodyne " he lay down quietly, and went 
 into that sleep from which there is no waking.
 
 CLUB-HOUSES. 
 
 THERE are few places more outwardly attractive than 
 club-houses. To be sure, they have no high steeples, no 
 large gilded signs, no advertisements describing the fas 
 cinations of the resorts, no placards to decoy the un 
 wary ; still, they are so inviting because there are no 
 domestic annoyances, no fretful wives, no crying 
 babies, no disturbing influences; and, by the payment 
 of a few hundreds annually, a man can recline on a most 
 luxurious couch, or play " billiards," " chess," or 
 "whist," whenever and with (almost) whomsoever he 
 desires a game, women excepted ! 
 
 Now, what if one does keep late hours with such 
 choice spirits ? Has " Mrs. Caudle " nothing to reflect 
 upon 1 Has she never seriously interposed about having 
 her own will and icay, and teased the "dear man" 
 until he has become almost frantic? Didn't he fore 
 warn her that such treatment would prove the death of 
 him ? And when he was actually upon the brink of self- 
 destruction, meditating between a pistol and drowning, 
 and discussing with a friend which he considered the 
 easier death, I say, just then did n't Mr. Merryman take 
 him by the arm, and show him the brilliancy of a club-
 
 180 SHADOWS AND SUBSTANCE. 
 
 house, so that he concluded it was not best "to shuffle 
 off this mortal coil" quite yet? 
 
 What if some gentlemen do have a resort, where 
 only their own sex do congregate, and there smoke, 
 and chew, and loll, and feel a little bewildered 
 about the time the small hours are counted ? They pay 
 for such luxuries, and what law takes cognizance of their 
 doings ? They are able to support such establishments, 
 and Avhose business is it to find fault, if Mrs. Caudle 
 does not? 
 
 Besides, a club-house never goes begging for funds to 
 support it 0, no ! and it never wants for well-quali 
 fied superintendents, nor is there any outside talk about 
 people and things ; for every member keeps his own 
 secret, and not one wife in a hundred ever heard her 
 husband complain of his inability to pay his assessment, 
 aldiough he may sometimes think "philanthropic socie 
 ties make rather heavy demands upon his purse." 
 
 But. Mrs. Twist, you must not be too inquisitive about 
 these matters. The curiosity so natural to your sex 
 must be repressed. Mr. Twist will, undoubtedly, tell you 
 all you ought to know 7 . He will show you the outside 
 of the building, and, one of these days, when there is a 
 general brushing and cleaning of the establishment, per 
 chance you can get a peep inside, and, if so. you will 
 see some of the most splendid furniture, while an air of 
 quiet and decorum will so charm you, that, were it not 
 for your vexatious cares at home, you would propose just 
 such an establishment for your own sex. But, again I 
 caution you. don't be too minute in your inquiries to 
 ascertain the names of " tJie member 3 " /
 
 THE TRAITOR'S END. 
 
 "Mo RE than half a century ago, a terrible storm swept 
 over the city of London. It was the hour of midnight, 
 when the blast was beating most piteously, that an aged 
 clergyman was aroused by a piercing cry for help. He 
 rose, threw aside his curtain, and beheld the form of a 
 rude man, who appeared as a common street-sweeper. 
 The rain poured in torrents, but the imploring accents 
 of the call induced the preacher to take the arm of his 
 guide; and. threading his way through narrow streets 
 and rude thoroughfares, he arrived at a rude dwelling 
 wherein lay a dying man. 
 
 " A strange tale was his. That very day a stranger, 
 advanced in life, had fallen speechless at the scavenger's 
 door. The kind-hearted scavenger had lifted him from 
 the pavement, opened for him his bed, warmed his feet, 
 administered a cordial to his lips, and now he was 
 dying!" 
 
 The apartment was indeed a dreary one. Up a long 
 flight of rickety stairs, inside a door half-hingeless, on a 
 narrow pallet of straw, lay this same stranger. The 
 lamp burnt dimly on a broken chair ; a few fading em 
 bers were on yonder hearth ; a teapot without a handle 
 stood upon it. The rain was beating at the window, and 
 16
 
 182 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 in sundry panes were stuffed coarse pieces of clothing. 
 A valise stood by the bedside it was the only property 
 which the stranger brought with him. The man was 
 only half-dressed ; his coat was thrown aside, his neck 
 was loosely encased within a low shirt-collar, but upon 
 his legs there were a pair of huge military boots ! 
 
 That face ! There was an expression there which, once 
 looked upon, Ayould haunt your memory forever ! That 
 forehead, bold and manly ; hair slightly changed by age ; 
 lips compressed, but yet moving, as if life were loth to 
 quit its hold, and large, rolling eyes that beamed with 
 an unearthly glare. 
 
 What a spectacle ! Those arms are brandished in the 
 air ; that fist seems clenching a sword, or holding a rifle ; 
 a damp, cold sweat starts from that hand, and wildly 
 does he toss himself from side to side on his uneasy 
 couch. Throb and beat, throb and beat, alternately, 
 went that poor man's heart, for he was dying. The 
 clergyman took hold of that clenched hand, and gently 
 bending his head, inquired, "My friend, hast thou a 
 Christian faith?" 
 
 " Christian ?" he echoed, in a loud voice, for the first 
 time, and in a deep tone, which made the preacher trem 
 ble. " Will Christianity give me back my honor? Go 
 with me over the blue waters. Listen ! We have ar 
 rived. There is my native village, there is the green 
 door-yard in which my boyhood played, there is the roof 
 of my paternal mansion, there is the graveyard, but 
 where is the flag that used to wave ? Another ensign is 
 floating, my infamy is uttered by the mouths of children, 
 parents are taught to loathe my memory. 0, my God f
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 188 
 
 the sting of remorse is throbbing in these very temples ; 
 judgments are imprecated by dark demons ; a tarnished 
 name, a nation's dishonor, and the curse of unborn in 
 fants, even now ring through my soul ! " 
 
 The minister had watched beside many impenitent sin 
 ners, many rebels, whose hands were stained with blood, 
 but never had he been called to such a death-bed. 
 
 Suddenly the man arose. With a mighty energy he 
 paced that creaking floor. If the storm was without, so 
 was it within in a most terrific form. Those white, bony 
 fingers laid hold of the valise, which stood by the bed 
 side, and drew from thence a faded military coat lined 
 with silver, and an old parchment, in a piece of damp 
 cloth, that looked like the wreck of a battle-flag. 
 
 " Look," said the stranger, " this coat is spotted with 
 blood, ' ' bygone days seemed to rise before him, 
 " this coat covered me when I heard of the battle of 
 Lexington, when I planted the flag of triumph on Ticon- 
 deroga ; that bullet-hole was driven through at the siege 
 of Quebec and now look at me ! I am let me 
 whisper softly in your ear ha ! they will hear " 
 One burning word was said only one. " Now help 
 me," continued he, " to put on this coat, for I have 
 no wife, no child to wipe the cold sweat from my brow. 
 I must die alone ; let me die as on the battle-field, with 
 out a fear." 
 
 And while he sat arrayed in that tarnished coat, the 
 preacher spoke to him comforting words of faith in 
 Christ, of hope for dying penitents, of mercy pleading 
 with justice, of that faith which lifts off the frown, and 
 shows us a compassionate Redeemer.
 
 184 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 " Faith ! " again reechoed the dying man, " faith ! " 
 the death-chill was on his frame, death-light, too, was 
 in his eye. " List ! Is there not George Washington 
 over the blue waters, relating pleasant stories of his 
 sieges ? Is there not George of England wailing over 
 lost colonies ? And here am I, I the first that 
 struck the note of freedom, the first that gave the blow 
 to that king, here am I, dying like a dog, howling 
 over treachery, lost in pangs of remorse." 
 
 The preacher stepped back awe-struck. Who was 
 before him ? Again the heart throbbed, the death-watch 
 was heard in the wall, the death-rattle seemed hardly 
 suppressed in the throat. 
 
 "Silence along the lines there!" murmured the 
 dying stranger ; " not a whisper ; not one, for your lives 
 are at stake. Montgomery, we will meet in the centre 
 of the town. We will have victory or death ! There 
 are steep rocks, silence, every man, as we move up 
 the heights. Boys, come on, on ! Hoist the flag of 
 freedom ! What care we for darkness and storm ? Hurra ! 
 Now, now, one blow more and Quebec is gone, it is 
 ours ! " 
 
 A ghastly look is there. The pale cheek, the glassy 
 eye. the heaving bosom, the wild stare, the death-rattle, 
 the tottering step. and lo ! he has fallen on the floor ! 
 
 Who is this strange man dying in a garret ? this 
 mark of nobility crushed like a moth? this wretched 
 maniac, still clinging to his faded flag and his rusty uni 
 form? 
 
 Whence come these fires of remorse ? this faint hope
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 185 
 
 of heaven 1 this more than fear of hell ? Where the 
 parchment where the flag 1 
 
 Let us unroll the flag. It is a blue banner, with only 
 thirteen stars upon it. But what of the parchment ? It 
 is a colonel's commission in the continental army, ad 
 dressed to Benedict Arnold. 
 
 Unhonored and unwept, there lay the traitor ! His 
 corpse was in a rude house ; he was unknown and 
 unpitied, save by strangers. Yet that right arm had 
 struck many a blow for freedom ; but, for one act of base 
 perfidy, he has fallen forever. Quenched is the light 
 of his former glory ; remorse hangs like a thunder-bolt 
 over his soul, and his last agonies are those of a dis 
 graced man, who might have been a victorious and suc 
 cessful hero. 
 
 Now, in dimly-lighted rooms, when children beg of 
 aged grandsires to tell them tales of the Revolution. 
 Arnold, the traitor, is foremost in their thoughts ; and 
 then the dreadful effects of treason are narrated. We 
 are told that he left the great metropolis, that he engaged 
 in commerce, that his warehouses were in Nova Scotia, 
 that his ships were in many ports ; but in one night his 
 stately warehouses were laid in ashes the owner was 
 suspected as the incendiary. The entire population of the 
 British provinces assembled in a mass, and in sight of 
 his wife they hung an effigy, whereon was inscribed, 
 " Arnold, the traitor ! " When he stood beside kings, 
 when in the house of lords, all faces were turned, and 
 all fingers raised. One venerable lord arose, and 
 declared that he could not speak to his sovereign in 
 the presence of a traitor. 
 16*
 
 186 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 " One day," says an historian, from whom we have 
 gathered the leading fact of this history, " in a shadowy 
 room, sat a mother and her two daughters, all attired in 
 the weeds of mourning, grouped in a sad circle, gazing 
 upon a picture shrouded in crape. A visitor now ad 
 vanced ; the mother took his card from the hands of the 
 servant, and her daughters heard his name. ' Go,' said 
 that mother, rising with a flushed face, while a daughter 
 took each hand, l go and tell that man that my threshold 
 can never be crossed by the murderer of my son, Arnold 
 the traitor ! '" 
 
 This was the individual who is said to have uttered, 
 " I am the only man born in the New World that can 
 raise his hand to God and say, I have not one friend 
 not one in all America ! " 
 
 Seldom does guilt meet such a retribution. The stings 
 of conscience ever goaded him ; and has not the despica 
 ble wretch who can thus turn traitor made his own pan 
 demonium while on earth ? Can a severer doom await 
 him?
 
 LITTLE PITCHERS WITH GREAT EARS. 
 
 "MOTHER," said little Agnes, "what made you marry 
 father? You told Aunt Charlotte you had all the 
 money." 
 
 "Hush, child! what are you talking about? I did 
 not say so." 
 
 "Why, yes, mother, you said he was poor, and had 
 you thought of being burdened with so many ' country 
 cousins,' as you call them, you never would have had 
 him. Don't you like Aunt Phoebe, and Aunt Polly, and 
 Aunt Judy? I'm sure I do." 
 
 " Why, Agnes, you are crazy, I believe ! When did 
 you ever hear your mother talk so ? Tell me instantly." 
 
 "Yesterday, ma, when I sat in the back parlor, and 
 you and aunt were in the front one. I 'm sure you said 
 so, dear mother, and I pity you very much, for you 
 told aunt there was a time, before I was born, when 
 father drank too much, arid then, you know, you spoke 
 of the 'pledge.' and said how glad you were that the 
 temperance reform saved him." 
 
 "My dear, I was talking of somebody else, I think. 
 We were speaking of Uncle Jethro and his family." 
 
 "But they have no Agnes, mother, and you know you 
 told about father's failure in business, Uncle Jethro
 
 188 SUBSTAIv 7 CE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 never failed. And you said, too, when you moved in 
 this house your money paid for everything, but the world 
 did not know it, and " 
 
 11 You 've told quite enough, my child. What do you 
 stay listening in my back parlor for, when I send you up 
 stairs to study ? It has come to a pitiful pass, if your 
 aunt and I must have all our privacy retailed in this 
 way. I suppose you have already told your father all 
 you heard?" 
 
 "No. mother, I haven't, because I thought it would 
 hurt his feelings. I love my father, and I never tell 
 him anything to make him unhappy." 
 
 Agnes sat looking in the fire, and asked, "Mother, if 
 people really love others, do they 1 ever talk against 
 them ? Did n't you tell me never to speak of any home 
 difficulty ; and if Edward and I say wrong words, you 
 tell me never to repeat them, and I never do." 
 
 "Agnes," said the rebuked mother, "listeners are 
 despicable characters. Don't you ever let me know of 
 your doing the like again. Yoii don't hear right, and 
 you make a great deal of mischief in this way."
 
 THE PASS-BOOK. 
 
 THE greatest accommodation to a young housekeeper, 
 is a "little blue-covered book," containing an "account." 
 For a time it puts her at ease in every particular. She 
 never teases her husband for little wants ; for, send this 
 "book" to the grocer, the kind, accommodating man 
 will put up anything you desire, and if he has not got it 
 on hand, what is the difference ? he will get it for you. 
 Some families have a large amount of wants. Not only 
 eatables are included, but dry goods ; and this is of great 
 moment to a woman, to open an account with a large 
 firm who literally keep everything. 
 
 We are presupposing one's credit to be undoubted, and 
 the smiles and urbanity of the shopkeeper will not be 
 wanting. He knows your husband, and assures you he 
 cares not how largely or long you are his debtor ; he 
 never expects but semi-annual payments ; and six 
 months ahead seems, with some purchasers, a long 
 period, during which time ten thousand chances of getting 
 money float before their vision. 
 
 " Thank fortune ! " exclaimed Thomas Carney, as he 
 threw down some settled accounts ; " this is the last bill I 
 owe on earth, and I have five dollars left untouched,
 
 190 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 wife. Let people say what they will, housekeeping is 
 far cheaper than boarding." 
 
 Netty, the young wife, bit her lips, and wiped the 
 perspiration from her brow. Alas, for the book at the 
 dry goods establishment ! It had now come to be the 
 first of July, and the young housekeeper was in hourly 
 expectancy of her bill. The book she had left some days 
 before, that the account might be added. 
 
 This was an expected guest, moreover, which she knew 
 would surely arrive. One might expect an aunt or 
 cousin for months, a sister from the western country, a 
 brother from the West Indies, and some unforeseen cir 
 cumstance might prevent their arrival. But who ever 
 heard of an account's being delayed long, or not being 
 sent at all ? If the creditor fails or dies, is there not a 
 consignment of the books, or a final settlement of the 
 "effects"? You cannot hope to evade such visitors as 
 these. 
 
 Thomas and Netty sat on the sofa, at the close of the 
 third day in July, contemplating who and what they 
 should see on the morrow. They had been married 
 seven months, and not a word of altercation had passed 
 between them. She was all he desired ; he was more 
 than she expected, a conclusion which young couples 
 are very apt to come to at seven months, perhaps, more 
 generally than at the end of seven years. In this con 
 sciousness of joy, and full of hope, Netty sat completing 
 a splendid muslin frock for herself to wear on the mor 
 row, when the bell rang loudly. She started to go to 
 the door, but was driven back by Thomas, who rebuked
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 191 
 
 her mildly for interfering -with his business when Dinah 
 was out. 
 
 Netty listened, she trembled, it was "the ac 
 count," for she heard the carrier ask, "If it would be 
 convenient to give them an early call 1 " 
 
 Thomas, thinking it to be but a trifle, asked the lad 
 to step in, and he would then settle it. Merciful Heaven ! 
 What is it 1 Did it belong to him ? A long sheet of 
 bill-paper literally filled, finely written, and a variety 
 of items on many single lines. 
 
 " Is this your account? " said he to his wife, with a 
 scowl, the first scowl that she had ever seen upon his 
 brow. 
 
 " I have an account with Lombardie & Co.," said she ; 
 ' ' but I was not aware of so many items, Thomas, truly. 
 What is the sum total?" 
 
 " Two hundred and five dollars and six cents." 
 
 "Impossible ! " said Netty, springing from her seat. 
 " That is impossible. I did suppose I might be indebted 
 some twenty-five dollars to the firm. It can't exceed 
 thirty. This, sir," said she, to the young man who pre 
 sented the bill, " is a mistake. I never had half the 
 articles." 
 
 The young man happened to be the assistant book 
 keeper, and felt not a little nettled at this off-hand 
 declaration. 
 
 But the young wife pretended to show the errors. 
 "There is a silk dress; I never, surely, had such an 
 article." 
 
 "Why," said Thomas, "what was the color of the 
 dress you had made to attend Mrs. Wilkins' party ? "
 
 192 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 " 0, I recollect now ! That may be correct ; but this 
 spotted muslin, I, surely, never had." 
 
 " That blue-spotted, Netty, I disliked so much. I 
 thought it a present from your father." 
 
 Netty colored. -'Mechlin lace at a dollar per yard. 
 I have no recollection of more than two yards, bought 
 last February." 
 
 But lace, insertion, edgings, and fancy trimmings, 
 swelled the amount most prodigiously; and, after making 
 sundry dissenting protestations, it was concluded, if there 
 were any mistakes, they should be rectified. And the pre 
 senter of this trying sheet very willingly made his exit. 
 
 "Thomas," said Netty, when they were alone, "I 
 never had half these articles." 
 
 " Women are very apt to be forgetful, when the 
 money is not paid, wife, at the time." 
 
 "Two hundred dollars ! I never had such an amount 
 in the world," was the constant reiteration. " Lombar- 
 die is a very pleasant and agreeable man one of the 
 kindest and most obliging shop-keepers in the world. 
 He never had a bargain but he told me of it ; and many 
 a time has he let me have some desirable shade of silk, 
 or a fashionable pattern of lace, much cheaper than I 
 could have procured it, had I the money in my pocket." 
 
 ' ' Poh, nonsense, Netty ! if you had the money in 
 your pocket, think you the amount would have been 
 withdrawn for the same articles ? " 
 
 " But I have always made good purchases, Thomas, 
 and received my money's worth for what I have ex 
 pended. All the trouble is, I have not had all the 
 items here specified,"
 
 SUBSTANCE A*ND SHADOWS. 193 
 
 "I know nothing about that, Netty; but I do won 
 der, knowing my salary as you did, you should have 
 ventured so largely upon credit, without consulting me. 
 I know not how I shall procure the means to settle this 
 bill ; I have only five dollars towards it in the world. It 
 will take a long time, and great economy, to make up so 
 large an amount." 
 
 Netty felt greatly disturbed, and did not omit the first 
 opportunity to examine the bill in the presence of the 
 firm. In vain did she contend with this and that article 
 she had no recollection about. One. circumstance after 
 another was presented to her mind, and a dim conscious 
 ness seemed to revive almost every particular. 
 
 " How many useless things ! " said she, mentally, as 
 she reviewed the bill. " There are ten yards of Brussels 
 lace, I have never used it, but bought it so cheap ! 
 There is a piece of ribbon. I did not want so much. 
 Belts, silk hosiery, wrought handkerchiefs and collars, 
 cuffs, coverings for the shoulders, very pretty and very 
 cheap ; but as the money was not immediately called for, 
 all these articles were taken." 
 
 It was a bitter experience, and bitterly did she at one 
 for it ; but it did not originate in a bad heart, it was a 
 thoughtless expenditure, and her attention had not been 
 fixed upon the issue. 
 
 " I am thinking," said she, to Thomas, as she knew 
 he grew uneasy about the payment, " that I will do 
 without Dinah ; and the nine shillings per week I pay 
 her shall be appropriated to the payment of my foolish 
 debt. I need to feel the folly every day, and such an 
 experience will entirely cure me." 
 17
 
 194 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 The word was suited to the deed, and black Dinah 
 was dismissed. Some of the useless trumpery has since 
 "been disposed of in an auction room, and Netty has no 
 little blue-covered book now but the New England 
 Primer ! 
 
 As the occurrence does not date far back, we cannot 
 tell what will be the result ; but at present the young 
 wife is doing her own work, to the astonishment of her 
 morning visitors, determined to be just, in future, to her 
 husband's wishes. 
 
 The little " pass-book " is frequently of great service 
 with experienced housekeepers ; but the common propen 
 sity to take more than is necessary, because payment is 
 delayed a few weeks, often swells the amount far beyond 
 our expectation. In little trifles, large amounts will 
 accumulate ; and I once heard the wife of a poor attorney 
 remark it was no trouble to her to have company, she 
 had only to send to the provision store and grocery, to 
 get all her wants supplied : but those bills are unsettled 
 to this day ! Honest tradesmen are thus cheated of their 
 dues, and appetites are pampered with luxuries which 
 should never be indulged in, unless there are means to 
 pay for them. The credit system, honorably carried on, 
 may be useful ; but a box of berries for which we pay 
 twenty-five cents, does not leave so disagreeable a flavor 
 as that for which I am to pay two shillings when the 
 account is rendered. Thus we live and learn.
 
 POSTERITY. 
 
 " WHAT are you planting those trees for?" inquired 
 a young stripling of a venerable man. "You will never 
 live to eat the fruit, nor yet to see them blossom." 
 
 " If I do not," replied the old man, "you may; and 
 if you do not, somebody will ; and so I shall confer a 
 benefit to posterity." 
 
 " I love my ease too well," remarked the young man, 
 "to work for unknown beings." 
 
 " Poor fellow ! " retorted the aged man ; "I pity you, 
 and if the fruit of my labor should come to maturity in 
 my' lifetime, you shall have a portion of it." 
 
 The youth was so struck at the picture of disinterest 
 edness, that he ever after became a cheerful worker for 
 posterity. 
 
 The old man lived, and age neither bowed his frame 
 nor " abated his natural force," and the trees he planted 
 flourished and brought forth fruit. True to his promise, 
 when he first gathered the fruit he took a portion of the 
 ripest and best to his friend, who lived at some distance 
 fnjm his dwelling, and when he arrived, thus addressed 
 him: 
 
 "Y r oung man, the first gatherings from the trees I 
 planted for posterity I have brought to your table ; and
 
 196 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 with it I have brought, likewise, an old man's counsel. 
 Never hesitate to work, at any period of life. It may 
 be the benefit will not come to thyself; but always re 
 member, the fruits of thy labor will be a blessing to pos 
 terity." 
 
 The young man thanked the sire for his gentle re 
 proof, and heeded the lesson. What he spent before in 
 luxury, he laid by as a sacred trust, either to benefit the 
 present age, or to be a blessing to those who came after 
 him. He died, and a large property was given to be 
 nevolent enterprises ; so that to this day many bless his 
 memory. 
 
 Is not this a rebuke to those who selfishly expend in 
 personal gratification the wealth of which they are stew 
 ards ? Let each ask himself, ' ' What have I done to 
 benefit my fellow-men ? ' '
 
 THE FARM NEAR THE DEPOT. 
 
 SOMEWHERE about the spring of 1849, the health of 
 Mrs. Frink began to decline. She was yellow as the 
 dandelion that sprung up in her pathway, and weak as 
 the tender violet in its premature bloom. She consulted 
 with her family physician what course of life would be 
 most likely to result in a permanent benefit. He talked 
 of a sea- voyage ; but how could she leave her young 
 family? Of a season at Havana; but how could her 
 husband leave his business ? We all know, likewise, that 
 unless we can leave dull care behind us, or take it with 
 us, no benefit can accrue to a weak stomach. 
 
 Finally, it was arranged that they should retire upon 
 a farm, somewhere near the sea-shore, on account of 
 the salubrity of the air, and the double benefit which 
 would thus accrue to the little Frinks. But where was 
 such a place to be found ? It must be easily accessible 
 from the city, for Mr. Frink by no means thought of relin 
 quishing his business in the metropolis. Indeed, his 
 means would not permit him to do so, had he desired it. 
 Now, there were several indispensable things to be secured 
 by this purchase of a farm. It must have a neat, sub 
 stantial dwelling-house upon it, and out-houses to match ; 
 well divided ' ' into pasturage, woodland and tillage ; ' ' 
 17*
 
 198 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 then an experienced farmer must be secured to take 
 charge of it ; and, above all, it must be near the depot. 
 This was a prime consideration. Of course, after arriving 
 at these conclusions, all the eyes of the family were turned 
 to the public journals, and directed under the caption, 
 " Farms to sell." Nearly a week passed before one 
 offered having the requisite conveniences ; and to show 
 that such an one was now presented, we copy the adver 
 tisement, verbatim. 
 
 " BEAUTIFUL COUNTRY-SEAT FOR SALE. 
 
 "The well-known estate of Mr. Oliver Shaft, situated 
 in Oakdale, eight miles from the city, is offered for sale. 
 It is in the heart of the village, on a beautiful slope over 
 looking the sea, commanding an extensive view of the 
 shipping and intervening agricultural scenery ; the farm 
 contains about thirty acres of prime land, all of the very 
 best quality for cultivation, and can be improved by a 
 gentleman of fortune, for a summer or permanent resi 
 dence, as he may require. The terms of payment can be 
 made easy, as a part of the purchase-money may remain 
 on mortgage, or the whole would be exchanged for real 
 estate in the city." 
 
 " Well," said Mrs. Frink, " I believe this is just the 
 place for us, after all;" and again she read over the 
 advertisement. " Stop," said she, " I have omitted one 
 thing ; it adds, l within a few rods of the depot.' At 
 any rate, we will see this place, and if arrangements can 
 be made, I should have no sort of objection to disposing
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 199 
 
 of our city residence. It is not probable I shall ever 
 desire to return." 
 
 " Women jump at conclusions," said Mr. Frink. 
 
 That afternoon passage was taken in the cars for Oak- 
 dale. Both father and mother, with Jamie and little 
 Alva, and Hitty Frink, all alighted in a few moments at 
 Oakdale. With an eager curiosity, they cast a look in 
 every direction for their new home ; but could it be 
 possible ? all the one which could any way answer the 
 description, was on yonder hill, a dilapidated old castle 
 of a house, with falling out-buildings, and this was the 
 "Shaft place! " " How unlike the advertisement!" 
 remarked Mrs. Frink. 
 
 ' ' Nothing was said about the buildings, if I recollect 
 rightly," replied Mr. Frink. 
 
 Mr. Oliver Shaft was seen, in his long dressing-gown, 
 seated upon the piazza, reading his newspaper, for it was 
 a mild spring day, as they proceeded towards the house. 
 
 "We wish to take a survey of your grounds," said 
 Mr. Frink, " with the intention of becoming purchasers; 
 but the dilapidated look of the buildings has rather put 
 the veto upon my wife's intention." Mrs. Frink here 
 coughed violently, and thought the sea-breeze too bracing. 
 
 " The fact is," said Squire Shaft, " our sons have all 
 settled in the city, and their mother is anxious to follow 
 them ; none of them took a liking to farming, and, as we 
 are getting a little advanced in life, I being turned of 
 seventy, and my wife being not far from that corner, we 
 thought we would dispose of our farm." 
 
 Mrs. Shaft, a large, fleshy old lady, with a rubicund 
 face, now appeared. She curtsied, and remarked, " She
 
 200 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 really hoped they were people who meant to purchase, 
 for she was heartily tired of showing the house to people 
 who came jist for curiosity." 
 
 They fully explained the object of their visit, and the 
 old lady commenced her labors. " Here," said she, throw 
 ing open an old door, that the wet weather made swing 
 very reluctantly, "here is a large, nice room, look 
 ing right out on. the sea, ships and all beautiful and 
 airy. Our Dorcas was married here, and she has made 
 out so poorly, it never seems so pleasant to me since; " and 
 a deep sigh was heard. ' ' And here is a room for yarbs 
 and clutter it was made for a china closet, I spose, but 
 I never kept any in it. And this is our Thomas's bed 
 room when he comes out of a night or so ; and this is my 
 old man's and my room ; there is the sitting-room, and 
 here is a kind of back parlor. The next story has eight 
 chambers, besides the ell, where the man sleeps ; it 's a 
 monstrous house," she concluded, " and a sight of work 
 to keep it clean." As it bore no marks of being kept so, 
 how did the old lady know how to calculate ? To be 
 sure, it bore marks of former grandeur ; but, scantily 
 furnished, and with numberless signs of decay, it did 
 look uninviting. But, thought Mr. Frink, if it can be 
 bought for a bargain, I will take it ; repairs can be made, 
 and that pasture out back might be divided into house- 
 lots, and sold at a grand speculation. 
 
 Mrs. Frink did not seem so much elated with her 
 prospects. The house was old and dirty, and a great job 
 it would be to make it look "genteel." " But, then," 
 she kept repeating, " it is so near the depot ! " " I 've 
 found that out, to my sorrow I " remarked old lady Shaft.
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 201 
 
 " Tut, tut, wife," replied the old man, "you are getting 
 old and clumsy to wait on visitors ; I dare say this lady 
 delights to entertain them." 
 
 " So do I," continued the old dame; " but who wants 
 Tom, Dick, and Harry, just for their own convenience, 
 when there 's not a mite of friendship in 'em 1 " 
 
 Mrs. Frink said, how forcibly that remark reminded 
 her of her mother's sayings ; she supposed all old people 
 felt so about too much company ; for her own part, she 
 hated to be alone. 
 
 But the price ; that was the desideratum. The old 
 man asked ten thousand dollars. The depot-master said 
 it could be bought for a great deal less money; and 
 how much less he promised to ascertain and inform Mr. 
 Frink the following week. But did they really want it 
 at any price ? Those large, open rooms rose before Mrs. 
 Frink, and she imagined how the wind would whistle 
 in a violent storm through the interstices ; but then it 
 was airy, and it could be made to do. 
 
 The following week Mr. Frink came home with the 
 title deeds, and told his wife the purchase was secured, 
 provided she signed her right of dower in their present 
 home ; for they had made an exchange nearly even, and 
 he considered it a decided bargain. 
 
 In a month after they were at Oakdale; but Mr. 
 Frink looked dissatisfied, and well he might, for, upon 
 reexamination of the deeds, he found that pasture he in 
 tended to divide into lots, was " to be kept forever open, 
 subject to no buildings thereupon." Strange such a 
 clause should have slipped his eye ! 
 
 Previously, however, to Mrs. Frink's leaving the city,
 
 202 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 she called upon all her acquaintances, and most cordially 
 invited .them to her residence at Oakdale, adding the 
 great convenience she enjoyed of living near the depot, 
 subjecting them to no extra inconveniences. 
 
 The mechanics, carpenters and masons, were all there. 
 Mr. Frink thought it best his family should be on 
 the spot to superintend the improvements; but, Avhat 
 with the dampness and exposure, little Alva was seized 
 with the scarlatina, Jamie with a croup, and the little 
 girl with the measles ! Yet this movement was all 
 made to benefit Mrs. Frink ! And now she must have 
 her city doctor; nobody else was acquainted with the 
 constitutions of her children, and the old nurse and she 
 did so long for the friendly attentions of her old neighbor 
 hood. She felt among strangers ; and Nelly, the cook, 
 had already announced her intention of leaving. A man 
 and his wife had taken the farm upon shares, and very 
 difficult people were they likely to prove. Mr. Frink' s 
 share of the butter was almost always expended in cream, 
 for the visitors now began to find the way out. The 
 loneliness that Mrs. Frink feared, she was not likely to 
 realize ; people whom she scarcely called upon now came 
 for regular visits, and not a few maiden ladies were 
 always .on hand. And then Mr. Frink was away from 
 the dinner-table, he could not leave his business until 
 five o'clock. and what a care and additional burden thus 
 fell upon the wife's shoulders ! The children greatly 
 took advantage of their father's absence, and Hitty and 
 Alva required constant checks at the table. And then 
 there were always some unexpected guests, and when 
 sufficient provision was made for their own family, the
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 208 
 
 extra company must be civilly treated, and ten chances 
 to one the provision-store was closed, and this threw Mrs. 
 Frink into a complete panic. Indeed, before a single 
 quarter had passed, she wished herself in the wilds of 
 Vermont, rather than so near the depot. 
 
 " Who could have thought it," said she to a friend, 
 confidentially, ' ' that old Captain Beers and his daughter 
 would have come here to stay a week ; and Susan Rivers 
 and her child, because it was teething and so trouble 
 some, and Mrs. Snyders and her adopted nephew, just to 
 smell the sea-breezes ? And all these I have had at one 
 time ! Mr. Frink was in New York, and our man actu 
 ally told me he could not raise vegetables enough to 
 supply our table, leaving his share out of the question. 
 Why, to tell you the plain truth, Mrs. Smith, I am worn 
 to death. I have not had time to walk down by the shore 
 since I came here ; it 's nothing but, ' Ma, somebody is 
 coming with a travelling-bag and valise.' And then 
 they are so very glad to see me, and admire the place 
 so much 'It is so roomy, and so airy, so delightful, why, 
 Mrs. Frink, I think you must be perfectly happy.' What 
 can I do ? " inquired Mrs. Frink, with the deepest solici 
 tude. "It's a thousand times worse than being bored 
 to death with country cousins in the city." 
 
 This was " farming it," with a vengeance. The man 
 brought in a bill in the autumn far exceeding the rent 
 and cost of living in the city ; taxes were nearly in pro 
 portion, fuel was at the same rate, and the freightage of 
 all the groceries must be paid over the railroad. Mr. 
 Frink had a season ticket for his family, dined at a res 
 taurant, paid extra for doctor and nurse, they were
 
 204 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 deprived of many privileges, and all this to own a farm 
 near the depot. 
 
 And when he would sell or let it, what a drug it be 
 came ! Nobody from the city wanted it ; and the fol 
 lowing year, as I passed, there was registered in flaming 
 letters, " Eetreat for Invalids." 
 
 Is not this a hint to city people who are on the look-out 
 for farms ? Uncle Richard's saying is just as true now 
 as ever, " It's always best to look before you leap.''
 
 A TRYING CASE. 
 
 ARTHUR BRANCH, Esq., returned to the city from a 
 fashionable watering-place to consult with his attorney 
 respecting the laws of divorce. It is thought he finds 
 them more stringent than he anticipated. He was driven 
 to this expedient at the suggestion of a female friend, who 
 has interposed her meddlesome propensities between 
 Mr. Branch and wife. It appears Branch was mar 
 ried more than a year ago to a city aristocrat. She 
 had been the pride of her wealthy parents upwards of 
 twenty summers ; had coquetted at New York, and 
 danced the polka at Saratoga ; had stood on Table Rock 
 a few days before it submerged, and, at the time of her 
 engagement with Arthur Branch, Esq., was undergoing 
 a process of flirtation with one Don Jose, a Spaniard, now 
 banished by the " foray " to the mines, for ten years of 
 solitary life. 
 
 Mr. Branch can bring sufficient witnesses to prove that 
 he has in all respects deported himself as a kind, loving, 
 forgiving and forgetting married man. His purse has 
 always hung outside his pocket, and its contents have been 
 most freely expended. The main difficulty seems to lie 
 in the discovery that Branch made a blunder in marry 
 ing. He supposed his wife to be an angel, and she 
 proves to be a woman. 
 18
 
 206 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 Soon after their marriage Mrs. Branch proposed a trip 
 to Europe. Her husband assented ; and after his ador 
 able " sposa " had consulted with Parisian milliners and 
 London dressmakers to her heart's content, she declared 
 her willingness to return without a sight of St. Peter's, 
 or a sail upon the Rhine ; thus showing that her love of 
 the frivolous overcame that of the sublime. 
 
 Mr. Branch had no sooner taken his American resi 
 dence, and issued cards for his first levee, than Mrs. 
 Branch complained of " confined quarters, ' ? and proposed 
 taking her summer residence at some watering-place. 
 Since then she has become a perfect belle. Her first 
 conquest seemed to be the favor of a young sprig in the 
 medical faculty, and, under pretence of a singular hang 
 nail on the little finger of her left hand, Mr. Branch has 
 been obliged to pay for medical advice upwards of two 
 hundred dollars ! 
 
 All this he has borne with lamb-like resignation. He has 
 never crossed his wife in a single particular. Just before 
 the railroad jubilee, however, he did speak. Then he ex 
 pressed the desire to open his metropolitan residence, and 
 to invite a few of his select country friends, illuminate at 
 evening, and end the festivities in a manner suited to the 
 august occasion. The simple annunciation of this fact 
 threw his wife off her guard. She raved like a lioness. 
 " Did he suppose she was going to soil her best drawing- 
 rooms to please the ' blue noses ; ' or that she was going 
 to give the use of her best chambers to country cousins 
 who were boorish enough to sleep in barns 1 ' ' 
 
 Branch did not urge the matter. His Monongahcla 
 whiskey reposed in its cask, his pale Sherry lay still in
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 207 
 
 the quarter-cask, his Madeira and Hock were encircled 
 with cobwebs, and Branch felt like one of the "invited 
 guests." Worse than all, his wife kept the keys ! 
 
 If Lopez had dreaded a contest as much as our friend 
 Branch, he would never have thought of possessing Cuba. 
 Somebody told him a divorce might be obtained; but 
 this was a female friend who had an eye to becoming his 
 housekeeper. Unquestionably enough has been done, 
 but how can it be proved ? Besides, who wants to tell 
 what they do know ? 
 
 The attorney advised Branch to return to his wife, 
 conciliate her confidence, agree upon some terms amica 
 bly, and make the best of a bad job. Branch paid ten 
 dollars for the advice, wiped his eyes with an embroidered 
 handkerchief, and added, with a dolorous sigh, " but I 
 am afraid she will pick my eyes out." 
 
 The last telegraphic account reports the matter "all 
 settled." Branch holds the reins while his lady and a 
 Spanish gentleman sit upon the back seat. She eats 
 boiled custard with a silver fork, while Branch uses a 
 spoon. The Spanish gentleman has heavy hair under 
 his chin, and huge whiskers ; Branch has a smooth face, 
 and shaves clean. These are only outside differences ; 
 but things of weightier consequence we pass by. The 
 moral of our story consists in this : Never marry a co 
 quet for her beauty, nor an aristocrat for her money. 
 Never believe in walking divinities, nor terrestial angels. 
 But should you be so unfortunate as to make such a 
 mistake, pocket the knowledge, and never divulge the 
 fact ; for everybody laughs over the rehearsal of family 
 jars, and nobody pities a married man.
 
 THE EARLY SPRING FLOWERS. 
 
 THAT little bunch of crocuses ! They shot up from 
 the cold, damp earth which encased their roots, and, all 
 delicately attired in their pure virgin whiteness, seemed 
 to cast an upward glance, as if by instinct taught that 
 Heaven provides for the defenceless. They were the 
 admiration of every passer-by ; little fairy children, who 
 looked through the interstices Avhich enclosed them, would 
 fain have borne them away as the earliest of spring flow 
 ers ; and more matured lovers of the beautiful paused 
 and gazed with wonder, that beneath such an inclement 
 sky, so courageous a little bunch of crocuses should open 
 to the first balmy influences of spring ! Yet there was 
 an association of sadness which pervaded the thoughts of 
 some beholders. They bloomed beneath a deserted man 
 sion, whose owner was dead ; and the gardener, who, 
 years ago, had so enriched their bed of earth, he, too, had 
 departed ! In the window just above them, bright eyes 
 had looked upon their early unfoldings, and carefully had 
 the protecting shield been thrown around them when the 
 hoar-frost and icy snow had bound them in their winter 
 sluggishness. Yet early was that warm covering re 
 moved, and the earth stirred gently, and the sun then 
 shot down some of those slanting, but warm rays, which
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 209 
 
 quickened their germination ; and with what delight the 
 fair maiden looked upon the little parterre of flowers 
 which so early met her gaze ! And now she, too, was 
 gone, and the magnificent mansion was laid in ruins, and 
 the hand of improvement had torn down its massy walls, 
 and the sound of the hammer was heard demolishing its 
 once fair proportions, and rough boards were protruded 
 over our little flower-bed, and no kind glance from the 
 owner ever recognized their beauty ; yet still they 
 bloomed on, and even added a new tinge to their petals, 
 for the purple dye was now intermixed Avith the soft 
 white, and their blended colors sweetly attested how true 
 is nature to the laws which govern even the humblest of 
 her productions ! And do we see no simile in natural 
 to spiritual beauty ? 
 
 The proprietor of that mansion left a daughter. Her 
 spirit was as guileless as the snow-drop she loved to tend ; 
 her voice sweetly harmonized with the lute she so en- 
 chantingly played, and the soft touches of nature and 
 art seemed to ally her to the angelic rather than mortal 
 elements of humanity. She was the admiration of all ; 
 yet there was no hauteur of demeanor, no arrogance of 
 spirit, no supercilious scorn ; but she gently moved in 
 that upward path which knows no deviation from the dic 
 tates of duty and filial affection. 
 
 Scores of wealthy young men danced in the joyous 
 sunbeams which her cheerful spirit threw around her ; 
 yet she refused them all for the high-toned, lofty worth 
 of one born in obscurity, yet destined to be great, because 
 he improved the matchless wealth which lay in his yet 
 undeveloped resources. And now she wa? sneered at by 
 18*
 
 210 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 those who once bowed in adoration at her fireside ; cold 
 glances of recognition came from those who once deemed 
 her the fairest of maidens. Yet, possessed of the entire 
 affection of him to whom she had plighted her vows of 
 eternal constancy, what cared she for the glances of mere 
 fashionable adoration '? Like the early spring flowers, she 
 was unobtrusive, and felt defended by the strength of his 
 affection, of whose fervor and unchanging confidence she 
 had the deepest assurance. The world looked on and talked 
 of the disparity between their earthly stations ; they 
 spoke contemptuously of' those lowly born being thus 
 brought to mingle in palaces ; yet the lover was unmoved 
 by such declamation, and slowly and steadily he pursued 
 his way, climbing up the hill of science, and implanting 
 such deep footsteps, that the imprints were not worn out 
 by light feet that followed after him. 
 
 Years passed by, and the marriage day approached. 
 The owner of the mansion " was gathered to his fathers;" 
 the wealth of the father had descended to that only child ; 
 yet she chose not to keep up the ancestral palace, for the 
 pomp and vain glare of heartless friends had sickened her 
 of gorgeous splendors. She cared not for the prismatic 
 colorings of the rich chandelier, nor yet for the frescoed 
 walls, which an artist so elaborately executed. She chose 
 simple nature in a suburban home ; and there, amidst 
 the chirping of insects, ani the songs of the birds, and 
 the lovely summer-house, and the adjacent green-house 
 of rare exotics, she loved to commune with nature. Her 
 husband, too, with his early rural taste unvitiated, gently 
 stole away from the cares of his office, and, at early twi 
 light, the happy pair seemed entranced with the love of
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 211 
 
 the beautiful which surrounded them never forgetting 
 the Giver of such bounty, while overshadowed with his 
 beneficence. But they lived not the lives of mere her 
 mits, who selfishly enjoy, but do not bestow. Their home 
 was the resort of the intelligent and inquiring ; the stu 
 dent was there aided and cheered ; the heavy-hearted was 
 lightened beneath such genial quietude, and the pure in 
 heart seemed to bask in one long sunshine of delight. Emi 
 nent in his profession, studious, unostentatious, freely 
 dispensing, yet always drinking themselves from the fount 
 of that happiness which never cloys, in a vine-clad dwel 
 ling, sheltered by overarching trees, lives she who ten 
 anted the mansion, and he who was born in the cottage ; 
 conclusively showing that, if true to the laws which alone 
 can dignify our nature, there need be no disparity be 
 tween our condition in society ; for he is only lowly born 
 whose life and actions declare him such. The clump of 
 spring flowers will rise as freshly from the cottage of her 
 whose scanty pittance barely supplies her daily bread, as 
 beneath the windows of the most opulent mansion ; there 
 fore, take courage, ye of ambitious aim, since lofty worth 
 inquires not concerning the height of the dwelling which 
 was its birthplace.
 
 LIGHT AND SHADE. 
 
 IT was at the close of one of those delicious days in 
 autumn, when the foliage of the overarching trees looks 
 like pyramids of gold, when we tread lightly upon the 
 sward where the rustling leaves have thickly fellow- 
 shipped together, and our souls are given to memories of 
 love, or dwell sadly, yet tenderly, upon some object of 
 affection whom death or distance has separated ; on the 
 evening of such a day, that a mother and her two daugh 
 ters sought a retreat amid the recesses of decaying 
 nature, to enjoy a friendly conversation upon the son and 
 brother, over whom so many sympathies had been ex 
 pended since he had sought in a Californian home to pro 
 cure for them the glittering dust which his inexperience 
 had suggested to him was the panacea of all temporal ills. 
 
 Never was a fairer specimen of manly bearing, of 
 courageous heart and high resolves, exiled from the home 
 of his infancy. Full of promise, full of magnanimity, 
 with an heroic soul, he plunged into the all-absorbing 
 gulf of ambition and the attainment of a fortune. He 
 had bidden farewell to the church where he was baptized, 
 to the green where he sported when a boy, and in a huge 
 ship, which contained innocence and iniquity, purity and 
 crime, he had embarked for the Eldorado of his hopes.
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 213 
 
 Letters had been received since his departure, wherein 
 the common phrase was inserted, he was " doing well : " 
 miners had returned, who brought the report that he was 
 iron-hearted and accumulative ; pieces of the metal in its 
 pristine state had been sent, too, as precious relics to that 
 mother and sister ; and now eighteen months had elapsed 
 since the parting day, that sad and tearful day when 
 silence reigned so profoundly through the household. 
 
 Now all the despairing fears had yielded to brighter 
 hopes. The last intelligence announced that he should 
 soon embark for home ; that his bags of gold were filled, 
 and that a happy meeting awaited them when he should 
 recount strange tales of suffering, while he should be 
 luxuriating upon the already gotten treasure. 
 
 At this still hour the mother and sister had stepped 
 out to think on the son and brother. 
 
 Mary ! she was a delicate, fragile creature, hardly- 
 ripened into womanhood ; her hair of a chestnut brown 
 waving in massive ringlets in the breeze, while her lily 
 face, her deep blue eyes and broad forehead, combined 
 in an expression of intellectual beauty, upon which an 
 artist was now lavishing his skill as a present for an ab 
 sent friend who had attended that brother. 
 
 Emma ! she was fair, and more mature. Her face 
 presented a picture of never-ending freshness ; her dark 
 eyes often gleamed with moisture ; and these words came 
 impetuously from her lips: 
 
 " We shall be so happy, mother, when Robert returns, 
 having achieved the summit of his ambition. Our cot 
 tage will be deserted, I suppose, for a more imposing 
 dwelling. What a specimen of architecture brother will
 
 214 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 exhibit to wonder-gazing multitudes ! And my room 
 will look out upon my favorite friend, the sea. Yours, 
 mother, will be filled with sunshine and flowers ; moss- 
 roses and evergreens will contrast strangely with our 
 humble daisies in broken pots, and our leafless multiflora 
 that is perishing in consequence of our cold room. All 
 these events will surely come to pass, and (she started 
 up) the fair-haired Mary shall realize a bright fulfilment 
 of my dream. 
 
 " It was only last night I saw Robert in my sleep. I 
 was sitting at a piece of embroidery. My brother was 
 superintending the colors. He gave a singular laugh, 
 and exclaimed, ' 0, sister ! life is just like your many- 
 colored fancy piece ; light and shade must alternate to 
 give full eflect to the picture, and so is the reality of 
 life.' I am sure I saw him, and yet I know it is all 
 fancy." The young girl started, even then, as if she 
 heard a footstep. 
 
 The widowed mother, we have said, was there. Her 
 silver hair was parted back from a mild and beaming 
 face, and her countenance plainly indicated she had her 
 fears, and her daughters their hopes. 
 
 "How strange it is," said she, "that we have had 
 no letters by the last arrivals not a word from Robert, 
 girls!" 
 
 " Perhaps the letters are intercepted, or delayed, or a 
 thousand casualties may have befallen them," said the 
 hopeful children. 
 
 They strolled along, full of gayety and cheerful prattle, 
 when Mary suddenly turned and laid her hand upon her 
 mother's shoulder.
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 215 
 
 The mother, alarmed, proposed returning back, think 
 ing some chill in this autumnal evening had seized her 
 daughter's delicate frame. 
 
 "But I am quite well, now, mother." 
 
 Yet the remembrance of that strange hallucination still 
 troubled her. She never revealed with what force some 
 thing checked her gayety; and, taught from childhood to 
 be free from superstitious misgivings, she chased away 
 the gloomy apprehension, and resumed her wonted cheer 
 fulness. 
 
 It was in deep twilight when they returned home. 
 Henry, who was Robert's friend, and accompanied him, 
 was sitting in the back parlor. The sisters each laid 
 hold of him. but his eyes were downcast. He seemed to 
 avoid their gaze ; his sea-burnt face seemed to have an 
 unwonted flush. 
 
 " My son? " inquired the mother. " Our brother ? " 
 the sisters. 
 
 "Have you received no letters?" said Henry, in a 
 quivering voice. He endeavored to speak, but there was 
 a choking sensation in his throat, 
 
 Emma stood there ; Mary leaned against her ; the 
 mother's face was white as a shroud. Robert was dead ! 
 The gold he had gathered had all been abstracted by 
 ruthless savages ; he had fallen a victim to disease on 
 board the ship, as he was returning, and his body was 
 consigned to the great deep. 
 
 Transformed in every nerve stood that late hopeful 
 family. The sisters seemed on the very verge of mad 
 ness ; but the mother sank on her knees and uttered an 
 inaudible prayer.
 
 216 SUBSTANCE AND SIIADOAVS. 
 
 The light and shade of the picture now stood before 
 them ! But was the end all shadow 7 Touched Avith a 
 sense of the perishing, with that feeling of utter inse 
 curity, the mother looked above for comfort. She had 
 felt the rough gales of adversity ; and the serene expres 
 sion which ere long pervaded her countenance, told the 
 secret of her faith was triumphant. 
 
 And now a dreary aspect opened to those young hearts. 
 The world looked cheerless ; existence seemed an empty 
 blank ; hope a mockery. In silence they bewailed their 
 sad fate ; in the depths of their hearts they even ques 
 tioned the intentions of a good God. 
 
 For more than a year no gleam of light illumined 
 their dwelling. Henry, the lover of Mary, had returned 
 so broken in health and so low in pecuniary matters, that 
 a nearer union could not be contemplated for years ; and 
 a kind of secret sadness seemed to prey upon the hearts 
 of the two who usually met every evening to bemoan the 
 fate of the lost Robert. 
 
 It was now a year since the tidings were communicated 
 to them. Again, toward the close of a bleak autumnal 
 day, the three young friends were looking from a western 
 window, when a form was seen dimly approaching in the 
 distance. Not a word was uttered. Henry was lividly 
 pale; the sisters shook like aspen leaves. The man 
 approached yet nearer. Merciful heaven ! What do I 
 hear ? 
 
 " Sisters, I have come at last." 
 
 An electric impulse throbbed through their hearts. 
 Sobs, tears, incoherent ejaculations, followed. In the 
 midst of this scene the mother entered. For a moment
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 217 
 
 she looked, and, raising her hands to heaven, she articu 
 lated, in a husky voice, 
 
 " Robert, my son ! is it you I embrace 7 " 
 
 His lip quivered, but his manly form still gave evi 
 dence he was of human kind. And what was his 
 explanation ? 
 
 Henry and Robert had separated after crossing the 
 Isthmus, and returned by different routes. While at 
 Panama, Robert consigned all his gold to the care of an 
 American captain. His ship was boarded by a race of 
 outlaws, who pillaged it from stem to stern, and made off 
 with the booty. Robert received the intelligence just as 
 he was ready to sail for home, and, being chagrined, 
 resolved to return to the mining region ; and, being well 
 acquainted Avith localities, established himself in a remote 
 part, inaccessible to transmitting intelligence by mail. 
 Here he assiduously labored, and realized a handsome 
 return. Again he set his face homeward, and this time 
 he was prospered to his journey's end. 
 
 From the crew of the pillaged ship Henry had acquired 
 information of the death of a young man on board named 
 Robert, and of course supposing it was his friend, as he 
 believed he sailed in the same ship with his gold, no 
 doubt remained but he was the dead man ! 
 
 If there had been a shadow over this dwelling, think 
 you there was no sunshine restored ? It was a sight upon 
 which angels might gaze, to see the grateful emotions 
 which pervaded this household; for what affliction had 
 failed to melt and subdue, a grateful joy made them 
 acknowledge that God is ever the merciful dispenser of 
 light and shade. 
 
 19
 
 INQUISITIVE CHILDREN. 
 
 " I WAS always brought up to attend church, Fanny," 
 said Mrs. Green, to her newly-hired domestic, "and I 
 wish you to do the same. I shall require of you, how 
 ever, to attend one of the evangelical order ; for, while I 
 pay you for bodily service, remember I have an interest 
 for your soul." 
 
 Fanny thought she had, indeed, found a mother, and 
 was truly thankful for her new place. 
 
 The next day was Sunday. "Ned " was called early 
 to be washed and dressed for the Sunday school ; Dan 
 was to repeat his lesson before leaving home ; and the 
 eldest daughter, who was teacher, was to conduct both 
 children to church. But things did not work well. The 
 shoe-strings broke, the boys' collars were starched so 
 badly that they purposely rumpled them together ; the 
 lessons were very poorly committed, and the breakfast 
 was not ready till after the bell rang for the opening of 
 the school. Mrs. Green was still in bed, for she was so 
 wearied with weekly services, there must be some extra 
 time to rest. Ned fretted at Dan, and Dan threw his 
 pencil at Ned. It was a scene of great confusion for a 
 family who professedly maintained such order. Mr. and 
 Mrs. Green, by dint of hurry and bluster, equipped
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 219 
 
 themselves for church. Fanny was despatched, leaving 
 her dishes unwashed, and her kitchen in confusion, be 
 cause the essential duty of "attending meeting" demanded 
 the sacrifice. Nothing was said, and, perhaps, not much 
 thought, about carrying a right spirit into the sanctuary, 
 if the body were only placed in the pew ! 
 
 A cold dinner was served. Of course, Mrs. Green 
 allowed no cooking on the Sabbath, and the children 
 were allowed no natural freedom ; their business was to 
 keep still, and sit cross-legged, with their "primers" or 
 " question-books " before their eyes ; and, naturally, this 
 was a dreaded day to them. Mr. and Mrs. Green read 
 their prayer-book, and the chapter from which the text 
 was taken ; inquired of the children respecting the scholars 
 present at the Sabbath school, and then took up the 
 religious newspaper, and thus gradually prepared the 
 way for worldly conversation. They had done all that 
 duty demanded ; had been to church all day, kept the 
 time strictly, and now began to unbend their thoughts 
 from things above to things beneath. 
 
 "Husband," said Mrs. Green, " that was a splendid 
 shawl Mrs. Sawyer wore to-day. I wonder if Sawyer 
 is rich 7 They are a family that seem to have everything. 
 Susan wore an elegant bonnet. I saw just such a one, 
 for which they charged me twelve dollars. And did you 
 see Mrs. Draper's scarf? It was the most elegant one I 
 ever saw. I don't see, for my part, how people contrive 
 to get such things. I 'm sure we could not afford to 
 dress so." 
 
 Dan here spoke up : " Mother, Tom Spencer has got 
 a beautiful plaid vest ; won't you get me such a one 1 "
 
 220 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 " I want a new sack," said Ned. " All the boys dress 
 better than I do." 
 
 " Hush, hush, children ! " said the mother; " do you 
 know what day it is 1 Sabbath days were not made to 
 talk about dress. Don't you know what the command 
 ment says ; six days shalt thou labor, but the seventh. &c. ? 
 What did grandpa tell you, boys, last summer, about 
 keeping Sunday?" 
 
 "If he did talk so good," said Ned, " he got his hay 
 in Sunday, for fear of a shower. How came he to do 
 that?" 
 
 "Boys! boys! what are you talking about? Your 
 grandpa is a deacon, and a very, very pious man. Never 
 let me hear you question his doings." 
 
 " But, mother," said Ned, " you talk about dress on 
 Sunday with father ; what is the harm for Dan and me 
 to do so?" 
 
 " Children, you are young. Your father and I are 
 privileged to say what we please, provided we talk no 
 evil. We merely comment upon the vanity of the world, 
 and the little regard people pay to religious duties. 
 Mind your books, and not listen to all we say." The 
 boys winked at each other as if they had good understand 
 ings, and could see through a mill-stone. 
 
 That evening the conversation turned upon the subject 
 of lying. Ned wished his mother to define to him the 
 exact meaning of falsehood. 
 
 " Why," said the mother, " it means when we wilfully 
 and intentionally deceive another. If, for instance, I tell 
 you the medicine you take is very pleasant, when it is 
 very offensive and nauseous, it would be a lie ; if a
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 221 
 
 neighbor sends to me to lend an article, and I say I have 
 not got it, when I have it, that, too, is a lie" 
 
 " How came you, then," said Ned, " to tell Mrs. 
 Moody you had no eggs, when there was a firkin full in 
 the cellar?" 
 
 " Hush, Ned ! don't interrupt me while I am explain 
 ing to your brother. Have n't I told you, again and 
 again, how impolite such a habit is? " 
 
 " But, mother, /want an explanation, too." 
 
 " Order, order, Edmund ! " said the father, very em 
 phatically. 
 
 " Lying, Daniel, is the mark of a weak mind and a 
 bad heart. I hope you never do it, my son ; and, more 
 than this, never teach your associates to do it, to screen 
 you from justice." 
 
 But Dan began to reason. "Mother, when you 
 direct the girl who tends the door, to say you are ' not 
 at home,' when you are in the nursery, is not that a 
 falsehood?" 
 
 " My child, there are certain conventional rules in 
 society, which are allowable, because custom sanctions 
 them. You are not old enough to reason upon such 
 things now." 
 
 " And," said Ned, " when you say, ' 0, dear ! I wish 
 such and such people were a hundred miles off,' and go 
 straight into the parlor, and tell them ' how glad you are 
 to see them, and how long you have been wishing they 
 would call,' is not that a falsehood? " 
 
 " You are the most disposed to question, Ned, that I 
 ever knew a boy. I tell you, boys, once for all, there 
 are certain customs in sopiety which we can adopt, with- 
 1.9*
 
 222 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 out feeling we have transgressed the bounds of truth. 
 Everybody who has had experience knows what these 
 things mean ; but unsophisticated childen do not under 
 stand, nor should they inquire into such matters. Do 
 as I tell you, children; always speak the truth, and keep 
 the Sabbath day holy, and you will be blessed." 
 
 This conclusion silenced the boys, but they looked very 
 dissatisfied with the reasoning.
 
 WHAT WILL PEOPLE SAY? 
 
 " Now, Mr. Gill, I want to go to Washington as much 
 as anybody. Nobody would like to be introduced to the 
 president and all the men in the cabinet more than my 
 self. But, dear me, what will people say 1 Everybody 
 will think you are off in search of an office, and how 
 many comments will be made upon my accompanying 
 you 1 I do wish I lived somewhere that people did n't 
 talk about their neighbors." 
 
 " That would be a region, Mrs. Gill, that never came 
 under my observation." 
 
 "Why, husband, they don't do so in country places ; 
 they live at a distance from each other, and nobody med 
 dles with other people's affairs." 
 
 " How little you know of the country, wife ! You can 
 do nothing there but it is made the subject of conversa 
 tion. So trifling are the matters, too, about which people 
 vex themselves, that a worthy clergyman told me that in 
 his parish the frequency with which he changed his 
 linen made quite a topic in the sewing-circle ; and then 
 you can never wear a new dress, or buy a hood, or a 
 cow, but everybody is interested to know all the particu 
 lars." 
 
 "You astonish me; then I'll never go into the country
 
 224 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 to live. How singular it is that people have such a dis 
 position to be inquisitive in matters which so little con 
 cern them ! " 
 
 Mr. Gill made his newspaper rattle, but said nothing. 
 
 " Billy," said Mrs. Gill to her eldest boy, who sat 
 studying at her work-table, ' ' what was that Freddy 
 Crawford told you about his mother changing her help ? " 
 
 "Why," replied the boy, "he said that his mother 
 told his father, yesterday morning, that she would change 
 her domestic as often as she pleased, till she got a good 
 one ; and I believe, but I won't be positive, he said they 
 had turned off ten cooks in three months." 
 
 "There, Mr. Gill, don't you think I 'm patient with 
 our old crone, who don't know when it is time to put on 
 the potatoes to boil, only as I tell her 1 I wonder what 
 people would say if I acted as other women do 7 Here 
 I 've wintered and summered our old Nancy, and done 
 half the work myself rather than change, because people 
 will talk so." 
 
 "Willy, dear, did you say Mr. Andrews is about 
 moving into an elegant house ? " 
 
 "Yes, mother, I went into it to-day; they are just 
 furnishing it. There are great mirrors, reaching from 
 the ceiling to the floor, and the room is all being hung in 
 pictures, and one side of the library is all glass doors for 
 books to be inserted, and it is very beautiful, mother, all 
 over. Don't you wish we lived in such a house, mother ? " 
 
 "Ask your father, child, if he wishes so." The boy 
 obeyed. 
 
 " Yes, my son, I should enjoy the luxury of a well- 
 selected library ; and to regale myself with looking at
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 225 
 
 choice pictures would be a great feast ; but, if I could not 
 do it consistently with my means, people would talk, as 
 your mother says." 
 
 " And who would care for what they said?" inter 
 rupted Mrs. Gill. " If I could only live in such a house, 
 little should I heed what people would say of me." 
 
 " What ! not you, surely, who make it such a daily 
 study to do things to avoid observation. I really should 
 have hesitated, even if my circumstances admitted, to 
 have procured an elegant house, lest it should bring dis 
 comfort on you, wife." 
 
 " Never mind that, Mr. Gill. I tell you, when I feel 
 I am doing right, I don't care what people say of me ; 
 but when I have misgivings, I am forever upbraided that 
 everybody will talk about me. My conscience, Mr. Gill, 
 is precisely like every other woman's. If their husbands 
 or fathers can afford them all the luxuries they desire, 
 not a straw do they care what is said about them ; but 
 let them feel they are not warranted in their indulgences, 
 and, at no distant day, see want and failure staring them 
 in the face, and then self-reproach added to these make 
 .unhappiness enough." 
 
 " But, wife, are you not a little prone to talk of others 
 yourself?" 
 
 "That's always the way; criminating me, Mr. Gill. 
 No, / never meddle nor interfere with anybody's busi 
 ness." 
 
 " William, go to bed," said the father.
 
 MRS. BUTTERS' BABY. 
 
 MRS. BUTTERS' baby ! There never was such a first 
 born child. It had little diamond eyes, a complexion of 
 snowy whiteness, and its hair, why, it was so flaxy, soft 
 and curly, that everybody begged a curl to remember it 
 by. And then it was the pet of the house ; all the treat 
 its grandmother wanted was to spend a day with her 
 daughter, and rock the cradle where the baby lay, and 
 talk about its "knowing" propensities; for it did seem 
 as if the child actually crowed before it was a week old. 
 But, dear me, the baby was a boy ! This was a sad dis 
 appointment, for its aunts Jerusha, and Patty, and Phila, 
 all had prepared something as a namesake present, should 
 it be of the gentler sex, and called after themselves. 
 But it was so lovable, although a boy, that it was the 
 complete idol of the house. Mrs. Butters was a fashion 
 able woman, and, after the birth of the child, found her 
 self largely indebted to many of her acquaintances in the 
 business of making calls. Judy, the maid of all work, 
 was delighted with the baby, and if of a Monday morning 
 Mrs. Butters summoned her from the wash-tub to tend 
 the little fellow while she went out to discharge some of 
 her debts, Judy always smilingly observed, "the clothes 
 only wash the aisier for soaking." Sometimes, it is
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 227 
 
 true, her mistress would not return in season for her to 
 do any justice in getting a dinner; but then Mrs. Butters 
 never fretted if the baby was well attended. 
 
 Week after week, nay, more, month after month, 
 this little idol seemed to steal away the affections of this 
 household. It jumped and screamed, looked delightedly 
 out of the window, and its fond mother confidently af 
 firmed it knew its father before it was three months old. 
 ' ' There never was such a baby ! ' ' But remember, that 
 babies indulged, like men and women of older growth, 
 have changeful freaks, and evince strange propensities 
 and strong dislikes. The day of its " christening " it 
 was terribly out of sorts ; it shrieked so loudly and grew 
 so restive in the nurse's arms, that Mrs. Butters always 
 declared a pin must have pricked it somewhere ; so it 
 only gained sympathy for this ebullition of temper. But 
 I am a little in anticipation in thus arriving at the 
 "christening." 
 
 It was the first grandchild on both the paternal and 
 maternal side ; and both grandparents were desirous of 
 its bearing their cognomen. But, alas ! it made no 
 euphonious sound when the two names were coupled to 
 gether. Timothy Home was the grandparent by the 
 mother's side, and Jeremiah Butters by the father's. 
 When it was proposed they should be united, it was with 
 a shudder its dear aunts exclaimed, " Timothy Jeremiah. 
 Tim Jerry would surely be the nickname of that sweet 
 baby." There was a family feeling of no very enviable 
 .stamp likely to be produced by this little affair of a name 
 for the baby. Its mother could not bear the idea of her 
 darling being forever nicknamed t: Jerry Butters.'''
 
 228 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 Timothy was far preferable. Its father thought just the 
 contrary ; and were it not that a stop was put to the dis 
 puted question, a serious quarrel might have ensued. 
 
 Old Uncle Jerry Butters deposited a thousand dollars 
 in a city bank, the principal and interest of which were 
 to remain till the baby should arrive at the age of four 
 teen, and then the proceeds were to be expended in its 
 education, provided it were named after himself. Grand 
 pa Tim had not money so plenty, and of course he of the 
 larger means, in small as in great matters, carries the 
 question. The only disagreeable thing in the affair was 
 that not one of the' Homes was present at the baptizing. 
 
 Little " Jerry Butters " soon began to know his name, 
 and quite soon began likewise to show his disposition. He 
 was too old to be always excused by his mother with the 
 plea that a pin sticking into his "dear little self" made 
 him cry. His grandmother Home gave the true version 
 of the affair when she said it was a spice of old Adam the 
 child was depraved ; for she was a sound orthodox pro 
 fessor, that never forgot 
 
 " In Adam's fall 
 We sinned all." 
 
 But it was the first baby, and it must be indulged. 
 It was a proud day for its parents when it puckered up 
 its little mouth and articulated "I won't." It always 
 had a lump of sugar for every repetition of those two 
 syllables. But by and by it did not sound so pretty. 
 "When it tipped over its full cup of milk on purpose, and 
 threw its silver tumbler against the large looking-glass in 
 the front parlor and shivered it to pieces, its father began
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 229 
 
 to feel there was some temper that ought to be corrected. 
 Poor Judy, too, had long since declared she could do 
 nothing with the child in its mother's absence ; so a new 
 girl on purpose to take care of it was provided. Mrs. 
 Butters' health made it very necessary she should be 
 much in the open air, at least she often quoted, " her 
 physician told her so." 
 
 But fresh troubles began to thicken, and this dear lit 
 tle baby, this pet and idol, was at the foundation of 
 them. That he was the most self-willed little urchin, 
 and a perfect torment, was the frequent affirmation of 
 the attendant ; and, after sundry kicks and scratches, she 
 declared unless she were permitted to correct the darling 
 she must leave her situation. This Mrs. Butters would 
 not permit, affirming that all correction should be given by 
 parents. It turned out that she was soon left in sole charge 
 of her baby, to do as she pleased with him. It was a 
 new and troublesome office. It was proposed at length 
 to relieve her by giving her young gentleman a week's 
 visit at Grandpa Butters'. The trial was made, but two 
 days before its expiration, the "little treasure" was re 
 turned as too unmanageable for its aunts and cousins ! 
 
 Its mother was in a sad dilemma. To keep peace 
 every plan must be devised to amuse Master Butters. 
 Neither cook, chambermaid nor nursery-woman, would 
 stay, for the little rebel would contrive to make each one 
 unhappy. 
 
 Mrs. Butters was completely worn out. In a fit of 
 
 despair she protested to her husband she must adopt 
 
 some new mode of living, and the only expedient seemed 
 
 to be to break up housekeeping. Certainly this was 
 
 20
 
 230 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 likely to be an easy matter, for everything was in a fair 
 way soon to be broken by this incorrigible, uncorrected 
 child. Mr. Butters sighed at the proposal. He felt 
 this would be no antidote. But a woman must generally 
 have her way, and Mrs. B. was not long in determining 
 to select a place for a new home. She called at many 
 of the first-class houses to ascertain the terms ; but, alas ! 
 they did not take children. This strengthened her be 
 lief that all children were alike troublesome, and Jerry 
 was no worse than others. The result of two days' per 
 ambulations ended in this, at the west end of the city, 
 in a genteel boarding-house, a family consisting of a man. 
 his wife and child, had just vacated the premises she 
 sought, and if the boy were not "over troublesome," the 
 landlady thought they might be received. Mrs. Butters 
 assured her he was not, and it was arranged, if it met her 
 husband's approbation, that the place was secured. Be 
 sides, Mrs. Butters knew of a friend who would hire 
 their house, furniture and all, and she would be saved a 
 world of trouble by stepping into ready-furnished apart 
 ments, which she might do if she seized those already 
 offered. 
 
 We will now introduce our friends to their new board 
 ing-house. Master Jerry was a most refractory fellow, 
 and did not at all appear to like his new home. The 
 first day his fond parents dressed him in the most splen 
 did manner, and brought him to the table, which circum 
 stance so inflamed the landlady that they were glad soon 
 to conduct him back to their own apartment. "No 
 children are allowed at my table, Mrs. Butters," was
 
 ' SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 231 
 
 once said, so that its significant meaning was never for 
 gotten. 
 
 At evening, Master Jerry took a freak in his head 
 that he was not at home, and should not go to bed. His 
 cries were loud and continued, and no entreaty, play 
 thing, or earthly device, made the least impression to sub 
 due his feelings. The strange sound in this hitherto 
 quiet house made, sad notes of discord, and nearly every 
 boarder called to ascertain what could be the mat 
 ter. Old Mrs. Bellamy declared it disturbed her so 
 that she got no quiet sleep all night ; and she intimated 
 to the landlady that she should be forced to seek a place 
 where there was less uproar, unless it ceased. 
 
 "I protest," said little Miss Chapman, " I could not 
 hear myself play upon my piano last evening, and it was 
 so annoying to the gentlemen who called on me" and, 
 taking her quizzing-glass and examining every one at the 
 table, she felt at liberty to observe, " I do hope, my dear 
 madam, you will free us from such an annoyance." 
 Poor Mr. Butters was overlooked by her shrouded eyes, 
 and his chagrin at this speech really prevented him from 
 finishing his breakfast. He rose from the table, and, 
 after he left, a general smile ensued at Miss Chapman's 
 mistake. 
 
 There was still another difficulty. The help in this 
 house were all colored, and Master Jerry was continually 
 shrieking with fright as any specimen of ebony ap 
 proached him. His mother declared he would have fits, 
 and so it was decided he must be kept alone in his own 
 room. Confinement was not his element, and his grand 
 parents declared it must not be some other plan must
 
 232 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 be devised. Just as the landlady was about issuing her 
 orders, Mrs. Butters informed her of their determination 
 to leave. Grandpa had consented to make one more 
 trial with his namesake. A married daughter should 
 never stay too long with an ungoverned child under a 
 father's roof, however urged to do so. Those maiden 
 sisters, or that stray cousin, or that old domestic, will 
 kindle a breeze when the weather seems most calm. 
 
 Scarcely had Mrs. Butters got settled at her father's, 
 before Master Jerry began to train. "Let the little 
 dear have this," or " He is not well to-day, and more re 
 fractory than usual," had ceased to appease the disturbed 
 household : they began to see that some sort of discipline 
 must be commenced. Here was a little fellow, just able 
 to trot about, once the darling and idol of his friends, 
 now their source of constant disquiet and unhappiness ! 
 In that little breast an ungoverned temper had made dis 
 cord to a large family of peaceful inmates. Truly to 
 such did a wise man say, " Spare the rod and spoil the 
 child." After a faithful trial of patient endurance, Mrs. 
 Butters found that a home of her own was the proper de 
 posit for her child ; that wholesome correction was abso 
 lutely necessary when the first display of temper appears, 
 and that neither boarding-house nor grand-parents will 
 continue long to bear a chastisement from which there is 
 an escape. 
 
 Master Butters is still unmanageable. His parents 
 think his irritability arises from delicate nerves, and his 
 fond mother has actually applied to the homoeopathic 
 physician for some quieting powders. "Uncle Jerry" 
 says the "essence of birch" is the only effectual remedy.
 
 LIFE. 
 
 THE mind, the mind, it gives the hue 
 
 To each material thing ; 
 The vision, if obscured, is sure 
 
 A sombre light to fling. 
 
 A cup of care ! how wearisome 
 
 The duties of a day ; 
 How labors sadden as they press 
 
 Upon our cheerless way ! 
 
 The cup of joy ! how oft we seek, 
 
 And yet as often miss ; 
 How phantom-like it flits us by, 
 
 With naught of real bliss ! 
 
 The cup of grief ! how often here 
 
 Tie after tie is broke ; 
 While weak and impotent we fall 
 
 Beneath the sundering stroke ! 
 
 The cup of faith ! that blessed cup 
 Whose waters healing give ; 
 
 How sparingly we sip that stream 
 Where we may drink and live ! 
 
 The cup our Master took ; could we 
 Unfalt'ring drink like Him, 
 
 Sorrows of earth ! ye all would flee, 
 Nor clouds our pathway dim. 
 20*
 
 A DARK PHASE IN LIFE. 
 
 IT is a wretched condition to be poor ! Besides the 
 wants and deprivations of daily life, there is the reserved 
 bow or mere nod, the apology for being " near-sighted " 
 when you are in company with a rich man, the con 
 tempt of countenance which says, " You have not done 
 as well as you might," and the " I 'm glad to get rid of 
 you," which a sensitive person always feels most .keenly, 
 because poor. 
 
 I wonder so many steeped in vice and poverty have 
 any moral courage left to seek a better fortune, rather 
 than that so few do so. Few people take into account 
 the hard rubs it costs them to rise. Suppose it is a man 
 who has resolved to be somebody. He applies for assist 
 ance, and tells the humiliating story of his degradation ; 
 and that is no small cross when one is repentant to begin 
 with. His friend shakes his head, and says, " I don't 
 know of anything I can do just now ; I commend your 
 good efforts, hope you will be successful, and when I hear 
 of a chance will let you know." 
 
 Back he goes to his counting-room, and never thinks 
 of the fellow, till a hardy truckman stands before him, 
 waiting for his change, who, years after, tells him he is 
 the same person who applied to him years ago for help
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 235 
 
 to become a man ! Then there is a class who never 
 believe you are really in earnest to reform ; and others 
 who wonder how you ever became so poor ; and yet others 
 tell how many thoughtless vagabonds they have helped 
 into employment. When a man has a feeling to rise, 
 they depress him, instead of lifting him ; and many a 
 time this has sunk him in despair. 
 
 There is the poor woman asking for work ; she says 
 she is a stranger, and has a sick child or husband, but 
 can do any kind of sewing. 
 
 She is sent to the slop-shop, and there she is examined, 
 before she takes a sack worth fifty cents, as if she were 
 about carrying Californian dollars away. She receives 
 at the most a shilling a day for her work ; her charge 
 grows sicker, her courage less, and she sinks in utter 
 hopelessness. 
 
 Thousands die for want of one cheering word, one 
 helping hand. We have all our charity so systematized 
 that its very essence seems drawn out. We are so afraid 
 of "imposition" that we would impose a fine upon a 
 spontaneous freak of nature that would unburden some 
 loose change from our pockets ! We are so discriminate 
 that we have apologies for all our miserly affections. 
 This makes it a very hard world for a poor person to live 
 in ! If he is virtuous, he must bring such credentials as 
 are "satisfactory." His honest countenance goes for 
 nothing, because we have been so often "duped," and 
 often one would rather starve than beg, because of the 
 very manliness it takes out of him. 
 
 Then a poor man stands a poor chance in countless 
 ways. He may have the talents of a Cicero, and the
 
 236 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 perseverance of a Demosthenes ; but he is objected to by 
 the rich man as a son-in-law because he is poor ! With 
 great caution he obtains any business ; for people are 
 afraid to put their effects where a man has nothing but 
 his talents ! His tailor is afraid to trust him ; his boot 
 maker points to his printed paper, " Terms Cash," just as 
 he selects a fit; his landlord sends in a bill once a fort 
 night, the man waits to take the amount back. Indeed, 
 it is very difficult for a poor man to live any how, and 
 it always has been so. Rich men by their very credit 
 accumulate, letting their money lie at interest where the 
 poor fellow has to pay his last cent. And all this is 
 done for years before " better days " begin to dawn, and 
 people look on, and wonder such and such people have 
 no more energy. The truth is, they have expended 
 energy enough to make up a dozen characters of great 
 ness, just to live. 
 
 We are not half willing to give people a start. We 
 ought to encourage struggling genius and self-sacrificing 
 laborers. To make a man honest, show him that you 
 believe him so; if "Sylvia" will marry him, bolster 
 him up ; give him a few hundreds, if you have your 
 thousands ; cultivate the manly part, and you will rarely 
 find a knave ! 
 
 It is singular how little props sustain one. A trust 
 committed, business bestowed, a customer sent, a patron 
 izing " club," or a little cash remitted, will make a cheer 
 ful face for days after. 
 
 Much poverty might be unfelt if the tender mercies 
 of the world were less cruel.
 
 A FACETIOUS SKETCH. 
 
 IN the progress of the age it is an incontrovertible 
 fact that working for a living is decidedly (; vulgar." 
 The disadvantages attending employment are sufficiently 
 obvious without any argument. Just think of a man 
 always busy ! No time for pains and aches, no inclina 
 tion to be nervous, no disposition to look after "invigor 
 ating medicine," but brain, hands and heart all occupied! 
 Why, such an individual is a perfect enemy to a doctor ; 
 he is rarely sick, and so neither homoeopathist nor al- 
 lopathist can claim him as a patient. And, then, what a 
 foe to nurses is such an one ! Never needing some old 
 lady to watch by his bedside and drop out medicine, 
 never wanting a less substantial dish than a sirloin of 
 beef or a haunch of venison, and never oppressed or 
 depressed after a hearty meal ! 
 
 And then the worker has no time to attend to other 
 people's affairs. He never inquires into the scandal so 
 fresh and racy, never cares whether his neighbor's 
 daughters' beaux are aristocrats or plebeians, never 
 knows what he carries home in his market-basket, nor 
 whether he is living beyond his means ! 
 
 He has no time to loiter about a court-house, and is 
 never taken under an arrest, never peered through
 
 238 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 any grating to look at a " fugitive slave," never 
 attended a call to consider the constitutionality of certain 
 proceedings, and never hazards a farthing on a bet who 
 will finally sit in the congressional hall ! 
 
 There can be no mistake but the working-man foregoes 
 uncommon pleasures. Never to be able to stand against 
 a post, nor to sit upon a seat on the Common. Never to 
 be seen with a gold-headed walking-stick, and backing up 
 a lady. Never to be caught napping after dinner, nor yet 
 lounging in the rocking-chair, nor behind the folds of a 
 damask curtain, with the last new novel. Why, is it 
 not plain enough he sacrifices a great deal ? And all for 
 what 1 Why, to be an independent fellow, to feel 
 that he has plenty of money in the locker, and is in a 
 fair way to gain a great deal more. And do you not see 
 how the beautiful law of dependence is thus frustrated ? 
 Never obliged to ask the favor of a friend to lend him 
 a small sum to meet contingencies, never unable to 
 meet an account for want of funds, and, consequently, 
 under no necessity of uttering a lie, asserting he was 
 disappointed in not receiving a remittance from abroad. 
 And, as he is not forced to sin, of course the necessity 
 of penitence is done away ! 
 
 And, then, the man who "works" has such coarse, 
 clumsy hands, if it be a handicraft he follows ; or, his 
 fingers are so contracted by writing as to be perfectly 
 shapeless in the white kid glove ; besides, he cannot 
 aspire to be beau, general or particular, to those young 
 ladies whose dresses drag in the streets, nor yet to those 
 who ogle young gentlemen behind the counters in dry 
 goods establishments. Not he! Think you one who
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SII/DOWS. 239 
 
 " works for a living " is fit to attend a fashionable lady 
 to an operaw ? Why, the very name of labor is odi 
 ous. " If my father did work at shoe-making," says 
 Miss Angelica, ' ' it was long before I was born ; and I do 
 wish he would get over the silly habit of speaking about 
 what he did when a boy, while Mr. Huckins is present. 
 Ma was always a lady, so I have nothing to fear on her 
 account." 
 
 And then comes the strange anomaly, a working- 
 woman ! One who is not ashamed to tell a daily street 
 walker that she has some domestic affairs which call for 
 attention ; who does not know, certainly as early as the 
 month of March, what will be the prevailing spring 
 fashions ; who cannot tell whether she shall wear a visite 
 or a mantilla this year ! Why, such a woman is de 
 servedly scouted out of all "genteel society." And, 
 then, what exquisite thinks much of her daughters ; 
 good, plain, common-sensed girls, who know how to 
 sweep, and mend hosiery, and make puddings, and direct 
 Dinah when their mother is gone, but who never per 
 formed an " Etalian air, *rith all its trills," in their 
 whole lives ? They never could lisp out sentimental 
 talk, never were "nervously ill" from living in a 
 heated house, and never had the " blues " for want of 
 exercise ! Who could value such acquaintances 1
 
 HAPPINESS EQUALIZED. 
 
 IT is mighty discouraging this drudging toil we are 
 compelled to do to save us from starvation. Earning 
 one's "bread by the sweat of the brow," is no foolish 
 task ; it 's very homespun work, talk as we will about it. 
 There 's a set of poor fellows digging, digging, digging 
 all day, just to earn a dollar. There 's a poor woman 
 stitching and sewing, and pressing, and button-holing, 
 to earn her fifty or seventy-five cents ; and at night, in 
 the first case, the man with the clean, sleek, plaited- 
 bosomed shirt walks up and says, "Mike, here's your 
 money;" and the mistress, with flounces all the way up 
 her skirt, holds out the pittance and says, " Here. Mrs. 
 Saveall, is your money for your day's work ; " and then 
 the laborers go home to stow away in an ugly, ill- venti 
 lated, old, crazy apartment, filled with children, and, it 
 may be, a sick or scolding wife, who moans over her sad 
 fate, and says she never expected to come to this " cold 
 potatoes and dry bread; no nursing, and little to live for." 
 
 Now, such a picture makes one side of human life ; but 
 it is only the shady one. We all have discouraging 
 days dark days cloudy ones. By-and-by the sun 
 shines. That man who earns his dollar goes home and 
 tells his wife he has taken a job for higher pay ; tosses
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 241 
 
 up the baby, and tells its mother about the quantity of 
 groceries he is going to buy, and that she can have a new 
 bonnet, and " little Mike" a new pair of shoes, and that 
 they shall all fit out and go upon some visiting expedition 
 awhile hence, to see some distant aunt, or cousin, or 
 " very dear friend." And then, how she sings over her 
 work ! How little she minds about the baby's fretting, 
 or Luther's mischievous ways ! Her heart is all turned 
 to that outfit, and the pleasant idea keeps running 
 through her mind that if she is not as well off as some 
 body else, she, to say the least, is happier. She heard 
 the man with a ruffled shirt say, in the morning when she 
 took his clothes home, that his money did not bring him 
 in any dividends ; that he had notes to pay, and did not 
 know how to meet them ; and then he added, " You 
 people who work for your daily bread are the happiest in 
 the world." And she adds, " I know it is so ; for Mr. Fry 
 looked dejected and careworn. His face was sallow, and 
 his eyes looked as if he had watched all night ; while I 
 feel as gay as a lark, and would not change situations 
 with Mr. Fry, the merchant, to-day, if I could." 
 
 And there is the seamstress, and her employer in her 
 flounced dress. " Madam," to be sure, sits on an elegant 
 couch, and her eyes rest on tapestry carpets, and beneath 
 folds of damask the light stealthily peeps in, all soft 
 ened ; but, ten chances to one, her husband was out all 
 night at some gaming-table ; or he is a veritable Caudle, 
 who gave her a curtain lecture about her extravagance ; 
 or some son has vexed her life out about going to Cali 
 fornia ; and the seamstress, who is plying her needle away 
 in the back nursery, has a thousand times as pleasant 
 21
 
 242 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 thoughts coursing through her brain. She, perhaps, has 
 a prospect of marriage, and the work is cheerfully per 
 formed, because she has her eye on some piece of furni 
 ture she means to purchase ; and then, too, she has an 
 idea how happy she shall be when she inhabits " a home 
 of her own," and John goes to his work, and she sits and 
 works for him. Would she change places with her em 
 ployer, think you 1 
 
 Thus it is, we are very apt to take things on the 
 surface, and then come to a conclusion. We envy peo 
 ple in coaches when we are tired with walking ; we 
 desire more spacious dwellings when we are pinched for 
 closet-room ; we covet gold chains, and silk dresses, and 
 outside finery, forgetting that away down in human 
 hearts there are aches, and pains, and vexations, and petty 
 trials, which corrode the peace and quiet of luxurious 
 people, varying in kind, but not in degree, with the more 
 humble, toiling, plodding, every-day sort of people. 
 
 The man who rides in the coach often has a gouty 
 leg ; and how he envies the nimble trip of the mechanic ! 
 The lady in diamonds and gold chains has a deep-seated 
 cough, and she covets the rosy cheeks and merry heart 
 of her washer- woman ; or she has a little " pindling," 
 weird-faced child, who has been heated to death in a 
 nursery, and the ruddy countenance of her cook's little 
 boy, who plays out of doors and takes care of himself, is 
 to her a perfect enigma. She would give all the world 
 if her puny boy Avas as robust. And so she feeds him 
 on sweetmeats, and buys him a nice covered carriage, 
 and hires a servant-girl to drag him to the Common, and 
 hopes by these means he will recover ; whereas, if she
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 243 
 
 would let him trot about alone, and pick dandelions, and 
 fall into mud-puddles, and eat brown bread and new milk, 
 no doubt the little fellow would be hale and hearty. 
 
 Thus we see the law of compensation is about equally 
 divided. One has more money, and the other more ac 
 tivity; one has more luxuries, and the other more 
 health ; one frets over a thing another covets ; and so, 
 taking it in the aggregate, everything is about equally 
 apportioned. And this should teach us perfect content- 
 jnent with our lot, unless we are disposed to be idle ; and 
 a sluggard has no business to live in God's universe, 
 where everything in nature is destined to progress. 
 Therefore, clear away the wrinkles ; stop fretting because 
 your neighbor is better off than yourself; keep up a 
 merry heart, and you will find this world a pretty com 
 fortable place after all.
 
 SWEET SIXTEEN; 
 
 OR, THE FIRST FLIRTATION. 
 
 11 MAMMA, have you any objection to my receiving the 
 attentions of that young gentleman who danced with me 
 at last evening's hop?" inquired Edith Gray, as she 
 looked out of the window at the Ocean House, whither, 
 for the first time in her .life, she had arrived. 
 
 " Objections, my dear ! I know nothing about the per 
 son you speak of." 
 
 " Why, ma, don't you remember Mr. Rodolphus McGil- 
 very, the gentleman with long, flowing black hair, and a 
 bronze face? He wore those heavy whiskers that were just 
 tucked in at the corners of his mouth, and his hair curled 
 gracefully over his upper lip, and disclosed a set of the 
 most beautiful teeth I ever beheld. There he is now, sit 
 ting on yonder piazza, smoking, with Eugene Fitzroy." 
 
 ' ' You seem wonderfully posted, child, in the names 
 of the gentlemen about here. It is but six days since we 
 arrived, and Edith, dear, you must not make too free 
 with those whose characters you know nothing about. 
 What, then, of this Mr. Rodolphus what d'ye call him ? " 
 
 " Do call him Mr. McGilvery, mother. He is a splen 
 did young man ; and now I will tell you what I do know
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 245 
 
 about him. The very first day I came here, just before 
 papa went away, he asked to be introduced to me. He 
 is of Scottish descent, and is making the tour of the 
 United States. Well, in a very familiar manner he said 
 to me, ' Miss Edith ' (for he heard 'pa' call me so), ' J 
 shall wish to monopolize your society while I am here. 
 I am fond of young ladies. I had a sister once who 
 strongly resembled you. That weed on my hat betokens 
 her decease.' And he wiped his eyes and looked so 
 affectionately towards me, ma, I began to love him at 
 once." 
 
 "Why, Edith, you should not indulge in such strong 
 expressions. Remember, you are a very young lady, 
 and know but little of the world. You must be cautious, 
 dear, about accepting attentions from strangers. Many a 
 young girl has been duped by their duplicity." 
 
 " 0, 1 know all about that, mother ! " replied the san 
 guine sweet sixteen ; " but they who deceive foolish girls 
 are not of the stamp of Mr. McGilvery. He is alto 
 gether above such mean conduct. Besides, did n't I just 
 explain to you why he feels attached to me ? on ac 
 count of my resemblance to his dear sister." 
 
 " And it may be that he never had a sister, after all, 
 Edith. How do we know the fact? " 
 
 ' ' Ma, I never saw such a doubting person as you are ! 
 What earthly motive could have induced him to have 
 asserted such a thing, unless it were true ? Now, please 
 tell me, have you any objection to my accepting his 
 attentions ? He told me to ask you, and I am sure this 
 argues that he is not desirous of inveigling me against 
 your will." 
 
 21*
 
 246 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 " Still, I should have thought better of the man, had 
 he sought my acquaintance, and asked the question him 
 self. You may tell him so, as your reply, Edith, to his 
 question." 
 
 . " But he was too modest, mother, to venture convers 
 ing with you. There he is, rising from his seat. I mil 
 run and ask him to come to our room." 
 
 "No, Edith; you must not be too familiar, I tell 
 you." But Edith waved her little hand for his approach, 
 and he came into the hall, and there stood, waiting for 
 her to join him. 
 
 Artless and thoughtless, she ran to him, and began 
 narrating all her late conversation, and, after pressing 
 Mr. Rodolphus McGilvery to go and see her mother, he 
 reluctantly consented to do so. 
 
 Upon entering the room, he was the picture of smiles 
 and the graces personified ; so bland in conversation, so 
 delicate in remarks, so apparently diffident, yet resolute, 
 that Mi's. Blithe did not wonder her daughter was fasci 
 nated. 
 
 The interview was a long one, and ended in a full dis 
 closure of the object for which he came to this country ; 
 indirectly keeping in view, all the while, that money was 
 no consideration with him, his father having just died 
 and left him sole heir to a princely fortune ; that he only 
 pined for sympathy and companionship ; and, as Edith so 
 strongly reminded him of his deceased sister, he, per 
 haps, had ventured too far in endeavoring to gain the 
 friendly regard of one young and innocent heart, in a 
 strange land. 
 
 These thoughts being uttered in a most winning accent,
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 247 
 
 suited by inflexions and cadences to the major or minor 
 key, as best suited the pathetic or more lively part of 
 his history, all counted with Mrs. Blithe, and she ven 
 tured so far as to add, that '-if, during their sojourn, 
 they could do anything to minister to his comfort, they 
 would most cheerfully perform it." And Edith was in 
 ecstasy that she had thus won over her mother to be 
 come interested in Mr. Rodolphus McGilvery. 
 
 What did she care for that staid young man, Mr. Les 
 ter, from New York ; or Mr. Fry, the rich bachelor, who 
 had promised Mr. Blithe to attend his wife and daughter 
 in his absence 1 It was certainly very ill-timed and 
 impertinent in the latter to inquire what they knew of 
 the character of the gentleman with whom they were so 
 intimately connected, after he had told them so minutely 
 his personal history. Truly, Mrs. Blithe, you are as 
 easily satisfied and as credulous as your daughter. 
 
 Mr. Fry, however, took it upon himself to ascertain 
 authentically whether the statements made by Mr. Rodol 
 phus were strictly true. He addressed a letter to a mer 
 cantile house in New York, upon whom he professed to 
 draw for money, and found they were ignorant of the 
 existence of such a man. He addressed another to Count 
 Zolvani, whom he said he knew intimately, and was 
 answered that ' ' he never heard of the gentleman in 
 question." So that, when convinced of the falsity of two 
 asseverations, he began to distrust all others, which sorely 
 puzzled and vexed Mrs. Blithe and her daughter. 
 
 While in the heyday of apparent triumph, having 
 secured the affections of an artless girl, having flirted 
 and danced in the sunbeams of fashionable life, suddenly
 
 248 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 Mr. Roclolphus McGilvery disappeared, leaving the land 
 lord with his unpaid board-bill, and at the livery-stable 
 a large undischarged account "for sundry drives about 
 the suburbs," in which Mrs. Blithe and Edith had par 
 ticipated ; and, worse than all, leaving a young and 
 guileless heart to feel the chagrin which always attends 
 an unsuccessful flirtation. 
 
 But the present mortification wore away when they 
 felt the escape which the continued attentions of the 
 Scotch gentleman would, ere long, have made very 
 doubtful ; and our young friend now was convinced that 
 a sterling character, generally, can furnish testimonials to 
 establish its own assertions. So the mortifying lesson 
 proved a salutary one. 
 
 Mrs. Blithe and her daughter now willingly accepted 
 the protection of that estimable gentleman (Mr. Fry), 
 whose inquiries undoubtedly gave the walking-ticket to 
 the Scotch gentleman ; and feeling, as they did, that his 
 professions of regard were sincere, Edith was never ques 
 tioned by her mother how far nor how fast Mr. Fry had 
 proceeded. Still, after their return in the autumn, she 
 one day inquired concerning the age of Mr. Fry. 
 
 "Your father says, Edith, that Mr. Fry cannot be 
 more than thirty- three." 
 
 Edith reckoned. " Twice seventeen is thirty-four ; that 
 is not so very great a disparity, after all," said she, 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 " Remember, daughter, the old adage, ' Better be an 
 old man's darling than a young fool's pet.' ' 
 
 " Old man I " indignantly replied Edith, " I 'm sure
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 249 
 
 Mr. Fry is anything but an old man. Here is a let 
 ter he has addressed to both you and father." 
 
 " NEW YORK, , . 
 
 " TO MY PARTICULAR FRIENDS, MR. AND MRS. 
 
 BLITHE : A very delicate subject will be presented for 
 your consideration in this letter. It respects your approval 
 of an intimate connection between myself and your daugh 
 ter Edith. You have had a perfect knowledge of my char 
 acter from boyhood. I know there is a disparity in our 
 years, but only enough, I apprehend, to add the test of 
 experience which neutralizes the folly of youth. Should 
 you, therefore, accept my proposal to wed Miss Edith, 
 may I hope the event will not long be delayed ? I trust 
 my pecuniary resources are adequate to common emer 
 gencies ; so that we may commence, and with ordinary 
 success continue, in a rational mode of living, in keeping 
 with your daughter's former style. Please answer by 
 return of mail. Yours, truly, J. FRY." 
 
 ' ' Who is the reigning married belle of the season, at 
 the Ocean House ? " I inquired, upon my arrival the 
 next season. 
 
 " A Mrs. Fry, from New York," was the reply. " She 
 is truly lovely, and her countenance and manners are 
 faultless. Besides, she has a most fascinating man for a 
 husband." 
 
 I gazed at the belle as she entered the dining-hall. It 
 was she who, one year ago, hung upon the arm of that 
 disgraced McGilvery ; and I thanked Heaven that so 
 bright and beauteous a being had escaped the snares 
 which attended her first and last flirtation.
 
 THE MAY-DAY FESTIVAL. 
 
 THE flowers resolved upon holding a festival on May 
 day. They issued their invitations between the sunshine 
 and showers which fickle April produced. But it was 
 thought expedient to call a convention, and decide who 
 among all the gay races would be present. No sooner 
 had little Miss " Crocus " received her invitation, than 
 she rose from her snowy embankment, arrayed in her ves 
 tal whiteness, and declared her willingness to be present, 
 at the same time prefacing her remarks with the expecta 
 tion that her robe might be somewhat soiled from its pure 
 delicacy, by the frequent contact she expected to encoun 
 ter with the rough blasts of the season. 
 
 The Misses "Jonquil and Daffodil" next rose, and 
 signified their desire to grace the floral feast. They were 
 from the sunny quarters against which defences and 
 shields protected them from the rough usage of sister 
 April, at whose concert they had for years annually ap 
 peared ; and although they sometimes quailed at the in 
 harmonious utterances with which she attuned her wind 
 instruments, yet they had always basked in her gra 
 cious smiles, and appeared in full costume at her opening 
 display. They, with pleasure accepted the call to appear 
 in the convention.
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 251 
 
 A lowly, timid maiden, clothed in deep yellow, spoke 
 despondingly, and doubted whether her tribe, as a whole, 
 would venture into the gay assemblage. We at once 
 recognized the look of our familiar friend, the "Dande 
 lion." She remarked she had never been petted by her 
 aristocratic neighbors in the bouquet, but that she had for 
 centuries bloomed outside the garden Avail and among 
 common pathways ; and that although she was of humble 
 origin, and often passed by as worthless, yet she was 
 highly prized by her jaundiced patients, and eagerly 
 sought for at her first appearance as the harbinger of 
 health ; and although she was seldom present at evening 
 parties, yet she had the honor of being conspicuous at 
 many a rich man's dinner table! She could not, there 
 fore, feel assured that she should appear at the May-day 
 festival. 
 
 There was a bright little wild flower, clothed in a robe 
 of delicate pink, who next took the speaker's stand. She 
 remarked that her residence was in an uncongenial cli 
 mate to most of the sisterhood, yet she delighted to live 
 in damp soil, and among shady retreats ; that she was on 
 perfect terms of intimacy with the wild " Honeysuckle," 
 .and they were neighborly and content, ay, and far less 
 likely to wither, than when ruthless hands transferred 
 them to china vases in splendid drawing-rooms, thus in 
 troducing them into society from which they naturally 
 shrank often becoming sickly, and soon dropping 
 from their elevated position, preferring the mossy rock 
 upon which they originally grew, to all the heated splen 
 dor which surrounded them. Upon hearing these words, 
 Miss " Violet," clothed in her delicate blue attire, came
 
 252 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 forward most timidly, and was received with much applause. 
 She spoke of a seeming delicate constitution, yet, having 
 laid imprisoned beneath a snow-flake, or encased in a 
 globule of ice, she had been permitted for some weeks to 
 expand her roots, and make an early appearance, as one 
 of the indicators that Spring had arrived. But she 
 was exceedingly flexible, could bear no rough usage away 
 from the clump to which she was attached, and remarked, 
 unless attended by a train of her companions, she should 
 prefer to diffuse her sweetness in the open field which 
 nature had assigned her ; she could not well bear trans 
 planting. 
 
 A modest variegated " Daisy " next blushingly came 
 forward. She signified that it was quite too early for her 
 to appear on May-day in the open air that from her 
 box of earth she had only looked through a glass case 
 ment, and, as she had been so delicately reared, she feared 
 an outward exposure ; besides, she was under a peremp 
 tory engagement to keep her stand within view of a sick 
 sufferer, whose eyes always turned toward her with de 
 light. Upon this remark, however, a confused number 
 of voices were heard, all declaring that they were equally 
 prized by the invalid, whereupon the gardener at the hot 
 house commanded silence, and, throwing over them a 
 shower of moisture, they were soon seen bathed in a 
 flood of tears ! 
 
 Miss "Heliotrope" made a short speech, which was 
 encored, and a sentiment was offered to the effect that 
 " she was the sweetest of Miss* Spring's daughters," 
 which threw her into such a delirious fragrance that she 
 was, more than ever, the admiration of all. The
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 253 
 
 " Bulbs," next came out in their glasses ; but as they had 
 not much depth, and were full of doubts whether they 
 should be disengaged, it was concluded to dismiss them 
 at pleasure. 
 
 There was a call at this time for the " Moss Rose " 
 and " Tulip," the " Cactus " and " Japonica," the Dah 
 lia " and " Lily," when a delicate little flower, known as 
 Miss " Clover," addressed the meeting. She spoke of 
 making an earlier appearance than was her annual cus 
 tom ; but, being petted by Miss April amidst sunshine and 
 showers, she had ventured too early she feared for a public 
 appearance. She observed that she did not appear with 
 out a train of companions, and therefore a non-compliance 
 with their invitation might be expected. There was a 
 decided reluctance in the choicest exotics and the culti 
 vated garden flowers, to grace the convention; they 
 were preparing for a more public exhibition, in more 
 showy quarters, under the scientific care of the " Horti 
 cultural Society." 
 
 Yet there were some excellent remarks made by the 
 early Spring flowers. They observed that scores of 
 maidens and lovers were continually seeking them. In 
 deed, their native charms were unadorned, and so they 
 attracted unfeigned admiration. On the whole, the 
 members of the convention acquitted themselves with 
 credit, and concluded to appear in sufficient numbers 
 and strength to grace the foreheads of the May Queens, 
 and to be borne in admiration among select private 
 groups, who promised to meet them at an early hour 
 on May morning, and transfer them to the most eligible 
 
 quarters. 
 
 22
 
 MR. TANGLE'S EXPERIMENT. 
 
 MR. TANGLE, above all things, loved rural life ; so he 
 bought a cottage, and took up his residence "in the sub 
 urbs." His family were delighted with the arrangement ; 
 it would be so pleasant to sit under shady trees and eat 
 fruit seasoned with the richest cream, and to sleep all 
 night with such refreshing breezes to fan them. And so 
 neighbor Tangle left the bricks and mortar of the city to 
 tread upon velvet lawns. He purchased the "Major's 
 place," where, for a long time, there had been a placard, 
 " This Place for Sale or to Let," and entered upon his 
 labors like an energetic man. He purchased a hoe, 
 a spade, and a rake ; a horse, a cow, and a cart. He 
 hired a man and a woman to make things go on agree 
 ably to all parties. His wife could drive the horse, and 
 his children could all stow away in the carryall, and 
 never did a family enjoy more in prospect. 
 
 " Weeds shall never grow in my grounds," was the 
 motto of Mr. Tangle ; but the ambitious little runners 
 had displayed their roving habits before he entered upon 
 his labors. The " hired man " was employed to subdue 
 them, while his master wrought among the flower-beds. 
 
 How Mr. Tangle did work ! How long he kept out 
 in the hot sun, feeling like a delighted husbandman !
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 255 
 
 How short a respite intervened between his labors ! At 
 last came evening cool, dewy evening, u so fragrant and 
 refreshing ; " but, alas ! there came with it a strange 
 sensation, and Mr. Tangle was not able to stand erect ! 
 How his back ached, and how stooping he went into his 
 house, and what a suffering night followed ! His limbs 
 were all stiffened ; there was a feverish action, a cramp, a 
 rheumatic affection, a loss of appetite ; and, finally, all 
 the charms which so cheered him a week ago, had lost 
 their power to do so. 
 
 He sent for his city physician, who pronounced his 
 disease "the result of over-exertion." It took him a 
 week to recover his upright position, and, ever after, the 
 sight of " spade and hoe " was only suggestive of pain 
 and misery. The weeds grew among the flowers, and the 
 grass became entangled with the borders, and there was 
 an air of neglect which crept over his half-acre lot. He 
 came to the conclusion that he was not born to till the 
 soil, and went back to his old counting-room, as soon as 
 he had found and reposted the old placard, whereon was 
 written, " This Place for Sale or to Let ;" and there it 
 stands, just where it was when it first met his eye. Am 
 ateur farmers will please observe it.
 
 FASHIONABLE BOARDING. 
 
 " MICHAEL," says Mr. Benjamin Boody, " call me 
 to-morrow morning at ten o'clock precisely. I will 
 order my breakfast as my appetite stands at the time. 
 And here, Mike, take this note to Gondey, the fashion 
 able tailor, say the bill must be rectified before it is 
 paid. Here's a note to Miss Angeline Gray, at the 
 West End the daughter of Barrister Gray. You know 
 their residence, and, on the way, just call for my white 
 kids at Masury's, and purchase a bottle of cologne, and 
 another of tricopherous. Tell them Mr. Boody sends, 
 and my name is already booked for a few little sundries, 
 for which I will call and settle." 
 
 The bell is pulled violently. ' ' Margaret, will you 
 ask the landlady to come to my room Mr. Boody, 
 No. 4?" 
 
 " What can that man want of me ? I do hope it is to 
 settle his bill ; let me see the amount. ' To be paid 
 monthly, as per agreement.' One, two, three, yes four 
 months have passed, and I have received just nine dol 
 lars and fifty cents. Georgiana, here, make out this bill 
 to B. Boody, for four months' board. He has sent for 
 me probably to pay it. I '11 just slip on my cap with 
 flowers in it, and, Margaret, reach me my silk dress.
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 257 
 
 Boody, I believe, is is an English gentleman came 
 over in the steamship has a commission from Queen 
 Vic. Well, dear, if the bill is done, I '11 wait on him." 
 
 :******** 
 
 "Mr. Boody, good morning, sir." 
 
 "Good morning, landlady. I rang for your servant- 
 maid to call her mistress. I merely wished to say, that 
 my coffee is not genuine Mocha, that my steak was not 
 juicy, besides being overdone, and that the rolls were 
 perfectly stale ; and merely summoned you to say that, 
 unless better fare is provided, I shall be obliged to seek 
 lodgings elsewhere. Your accommodations, madam, are 
 not equal to your terms." 
 
 Michael enters, with a profound bow. 
 
 "The gintleman says he shall keep the gloves until 
 old arrearages are paid. As to the hair-tonic, yer honor, 
 they bid me say they had booked quite enough, and 
 here 's the bill for the past, sir." The landlady was 
 taken aback. 
 
 " Mr. Boody, here is my bill." 
 
 "Keep it, madam. I make no payments till my 
 drafts are accepted." 
 
 And the next morning the English gentleman was 
 missing, and the poor landlady, who keeps " boarders for 
 a living," was obliged to pocket the bill and the insult. 
 
 ******:&:& 
 
 Mrs. Cornelius Flary wanted board. She would like 
 Mr. Boody 's apartments ; had an only daughter and a 
 waiting-maid ; had kept a carriage, and could give the 
 best of references. The landlady looked for a golden 
 shower to succeed her late overcast sky. Miss Aminta, 
 22*
 
 258 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 the daughter, was engaged to Monsieur Ferrego, a 
 gentleman of genuine moustache. Madam attended " op- 
 eraws," occasionally morning-parties ; had select friends 
 for games of whist or chess; always ate in her own 
 rooms ; kept a little poodle-dog and a dressing-maid. 
 Who could douht her respectable standing in society ? 
 
 Monsieur Ferrego received a sudden call to France. 
 The mother and daughter departed with him, leaving a 
 soiled white silk night-cap, an odd slipper, a dirty room, 
 and the unpaid bill !
 
 A WEEK AT THE FARM-HOUSE. 
 
 A LITTLE robin sat perched on the highest bough of 
 a tall tree. There he sang, and warbled forth for hours 
 his sweetest notes, making the evening air vocal with his 
 rich tones. Day after day he continued this practice, 
 with little interruption, and only at nightfall Avas he 
 missed from his accustomed seat. Long, long before the 
 tired laborers awoke, he was again carolling his morning 
 matins, refreshing the restless, sleepless sufferer, who 
 had counted the weary hours of night. And what was 
 the office of this tiny songster ? Was it to gladden my 
 heart that he made himself so vocal ? Ay, not me alone, 
 for, underneath his seat, his companion had built her 
 nest ; and, while she sat at her weary task, her loving 
 mate attempted to cheer her with his most tuneful notes. 
 No doubt the phraseology, interpreted, meant, " I will 
 inform thee of impending danger, and should the mighty 
 eagle, or any of the feathered tribe, invade our premises, 
 I will give thee ' note of preparation.' ' And then the 
 protecting songster would flit away a few paces, and 
 return with a morsel of food, and, kindly dropping it in 
 the nest, remount, and sing again a livelier strain. 
 
 What a lesson to a jarring household did this robin 
 teach ! How, when wearied with care, or worn down
 
 260 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 with labor, do the accents of sympathy cheer and renerve 
 the spirits ! How does the feeling that a protecting hand 
 is held out to support us, help us to bear together what 
 would separately crush us ! And just this kind of reli 
 ance we are invited to feel in our heavenly Parent's 
 care. 
 
 The faithful hen. All day long, a hawk had been hov 
 ering at short intervals over a brood of chickens. Just 
 as the parent hen saw him approaching, she gave a pierc 
 ing shriek and gathered her brood under her wings. This 
 summoned the cock, who raised his erect comb, and gave 
 a note of defiance. We looked in vain for any abatement 
 of these creatures' care. Their instinct seemed almost to 
 approach the reasoning faculty ; for, when the danger was 
 past, the hen arose, and the brood commenced busily pick 
 ing at every seed or tiny stone, as if anxious to improve 
 the time till they should be again invaded. 
 
 What a moral we could have drawn of watchfulness 
 against impending dangers ! Were we alike careful and 
 used our forecast aright, how many wrecks of fortune and 
 reputation might be saved ! The hawk still pursued, but 
 the hen baffled his designs by her unceasing care. So 
 might we escape many furious birds of prey, did our 
 reason serve us as well as her instinct ! 
 
 The weaned calf. Grazing by the door of the hus 
 bandman's cottage was the brindled calf. The mother 
 was a singularly gentle creature, and overflowed with 
 natural milk, beside that of "kindness." She was so 
 cherished, that her progeny was reared to take her place ; 
 and the frisky little animal would eat bread from the 
 hand, drink warm milk from the pail, and so readily
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 261 
 
 accommodate herself to her owner's wishes, that she never 
 bellowed for her mother, but quietly took what was given 
 her; and, when tired of grazing, as if fond of human 
 sympathy, would stand in the door-way and thrust her 
 nose within ; and so the tender creature won the good 
 will of all around the rural homestead. Early training 
 effected all this ; and might it not be so with a superior 
 race, if they were early led to the cultivation of the heart? 
 Might they not be reared by faithful mothers, and trained 
 by after-influences, to become benefactors of our race? 
 
 The unruly cow. The farmer called her "breachy." 
 She showed her skill one morning in removing from her 
 enclosure. She was driven to the rich pasture, but had 
 an unaccountable love of straying out of it. No sooner 
 had the little driver deposited her safely, and whistled 
 his way homeward, than the restless creature took her 
 horns and raised every rail from its post, and made her 
 way to the. public road. A passer-by put up the fence, 
 and travelled on, thinking he had done good service to a 
 neighbor. 
 
 It so happened, at nightfall, that the owner of the cow 
 went for her, and, finding her in the road grazing con 
 tentedly, he easily inferred that the faithful boy had not 
 turned her into her pasture ; for how, reasoned he, came 
 the fence up ? Surely, the creature that could tear 
 down, could not replace the work ! In vain did the boy 
 protest that he put the animal where he was desired ; and 
 it was only when his master learned, from him who put 
 up the bars, that it was so, that he was reinstated in his 
 confidence. 
 
 What a lesson this should teach us to moderate our
 
 262 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 opinion of acts, which, circumstantially viewed, seemed to 
 present but one side, and that an unfavorable one ! We 
 might have added another additional argument, which 
 proved that the cow had not been put in the pasture, 
 viz., the neighbors had observed her all day feeding out 
 of it. How frequently do our prejudices become 
 strengthened by the superadded weight of trifling cir 
 cumstances ! 
 
 The worn-out horse. He fed in the door-yard. For 
 many years he had done service in the heavy-laden team, 
 and, pacing back and forth to the neighboring village, 
 he had carried the heavy lumber. But now his joints 
 grew stiff, his legs refused their oifice, and the poor 
 creature was turned in the verdant lawn to graze at will. 
 When he laid down, he could not rise without assistance ; 
 and the blanched eye of the poor animal told full well 
 that he was a sufferer. Yet he meekly fed, and his mas 
 ter had a hope that he would again do service. Did you 
 never see other worn-out specimens, those who had 
 drudged and trudged life's dusty ways, that only laid by 
 when a sense of helplessness forbade them to labor? 
 They never enjoyed but in prospect, and the treasures 
 of years' accumulation had little worth when the palsied 
 limbs and dim visions of premature old age came upon 
 them. 
 
 And there were other " summer sights." The ant 
 was toiling upon her bed of sand, the hornet was build 
 ing his clayey nest, the swallow was fluttering over the 
 babbling brook, the caterpillar was preparing for her 
 transformation, and all nature seemed obedient to the 
 laws of its Creator. Truly, this seemed a good world,
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 263 
 
 a pleasant world, and why should we not call it a happy 
 world'? "Because," said Uncle Jethro, "we have 
 sinned." "Well, then," I hopefully replied, " keep on 
 repenting, and do not be the only exception that mars 
 the original design of its Maker. By improving the 
 present world, and acting wisely, who can doubt but one 
 far more attractive will burst upon our vision when we 
 exchange time for eternity?"
 
 WORDS OF KINDNESS. 
 
 NELLY McKiN was a child of Scottish descent. Her 
 father died in her infancy ; and her mother, being strait 
 ened in pecuniary circumstances, was advised to seek in 
 America a home for herself and child, as offering better 
 remuneration for the toilsome life of plain sewing, to 
 which she now resorted for a livelihood. The poor woman 
 lent a credulous ear to the story that money flowed plen 
 tifully in our streets, and embarked to assure herself 
 of the fact. 
 
 Upon her arrival she found herself nearly penniless, 
 exhausted by a long voyage, and landed upon an inclem 
 ent shore, with none to raise the eye of pity or extend 
 the hand of relief. She was a stranger, and knew not to 
 whom to apply. Even her own countrymen seemed 
 hardened by severity, and manifested no tenderness 
 toward the new emigrant who appeared among them. 
 
 Little Nelly could only cling to the scanty skirts of 
 her mother, and in wonder trudge through our streets, 
 unable to divine why her mother sought such an inhos 
 pitable shore. Besides, she was the only surviving one 
 of a family of eight children. 
 
 After many fruitless attempts to command labor, and 
 a shelter which would wear a neat and comfortable air,
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 265 
 
 Mrs. McKin at length fell in with an honest, pitying 
 heart of her own sex, from the Emerald isle, who offered 
 to share lier room and furniture with her till such time 
 as she could recompense her for the kindness. 
 
 Mrs. McKin then followed the direction of some falsely- 
 styled philanthropic people, who directed her to certain 
 slop-shops, where, by excessive toil, she could only man 
 age to procure her daily bread, leaving scarcely a cent 
 whereby she could help defray the rent of her tenement. 
 The poverty and loneliness of her own heart she could bet 
 ter have endured, had she not been compelled to witness 
 the inroads it made upon the tender susceptibilities of 
 little Nelly. The child had always been accustomed to a 
 plenty of common food, and she had hitherto ate it with 
 a blithesome spirit, and that always sweetens the coars 
 est fare. But now there was a stint ; both her mother 
 and herself could not enjoy their homely meal, and feel 
 that their appetites were appeased ; and so one coaxed the 
 other to take the last spare morsel, each feeling the 
 other had the most need of sustenance. 
 
 It may seem, to many outside observers of human con 
 dition, that to feel the cravings of hunger is an unneces 
 sary thing. They think of their full larder, and of the 
 over supply which they would gladly render to such. 
 But how do the destitute know where to find such a sup 
 ply 1 How gladly would the Scotchwoman have become 
 the useful inmate- of a family, or her little Nelly have 
 lent her aid, could such a place have been assigned them ! 
 Yet they lived in a neighborhood where luxuries abounded, 
 themselves inhabiting the only room over a livery stable, 
 which was occupied as a "poor tenement." 
 23
 
 266 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 Little Nelly at length became what we call a " shav 
 ing girl." She used to frequent the carpenters' shops 
 and fill her basket ; and then, going to the doors of the 
 opulent, she sometimes obtained a few cents, with which 
 she bought a loaf of bread, which, in her first efforts, so 
 gladdened her heart that it really deprived her of her 
 usual appetite. She had a winning voice, a sweet smile, 
 and clear eye, which looked as if no taint of sin lurked 
 beneath, and no hypocritical guise concealed the truth of 
 her somewhat reluctant confession of poverty. Still, she 
 met with a cold and forbidding reception at most of the 
 places where she sought for aid, and not unfrequently 
 was the door rudely shut in her face, with the coarse 
 expression, "Begone, and never trouble me again!" 
 Perhaps this grating language was not entirely charge 
 able upon those that uttered it ; for are not our domestics 
 so constantly admonished to beware of street beggary, that 
 they only reiterate the language which their employers 
 may have put in their mouths 1 
 
 And so little Nelly trudged once more to a door she 
 had often frequented without being severely repulsed. 
 The domestics, at varied occupations, heeded not her 
 gentle ringing of the gate-bell; but the lady of the 
 house answered it. The soft, plaintive voice of the deso 
 late child struck a vein of tender sympathy in the heart 
 of that lady. She took her full basket of shavings, and 
 kindly added, " Come in, my little girl, and warm your 
 self." 
 
 A tear stood in Nelly's eye. It was shed at the voice 
 of kindness. So she followed her now friend, and an- 
 swered her many inquiries as to her place of abode and
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 267 
 
 her destitution, in such a truthful and simple manner as 
 completely won the heart of her benefactress. She imme 
 diately went to a receptacle of cast-off garments, and, 
 taking therefrom a supply suited to her condition in mid 
 winter, most surprisingly gladdened the heart of the des 
 olate child by fitting them on her person, and tying up a 
 little package for her mother ; which was followed by so 
 many hearty thanks that no one, by the look and man 
 ner, could have doubted the sincerity. 
 
 This kind lady did not feel, as many do, that, before 
 bestowing her alms, she must first make a formal call to 
 become an eye-witness of absolute poverty; she saw 
 before her a shivering, thinly-clad child, and she knew 
 by substituting more comfortable garments she was doing 
 no evil service ; for sometimes we seem to read clearly 
 in the eye and manner of a sufferer that destitution is not 
 synonymous with imposition. So she bade little Nelly 
 come again at a stated time, and she would furnish her 
 with another supply. 
 
 The grateful child ran home in perfect delight. The 
 world was all sunshine to her now. She was soon at 
 her mother's door, and, having displayed a bright silver 
 piece, a basketful of comfortable and neatly-assorted 
 provisions, and a supply of clothing which exactly met 
 the wants of the mother, they both fell on their knees 
 and thanked their heavenly Father for raising up to 
 them such an unknown friend. Few more fervent 
 prayers were ever breathed ; and the little girl seemed 
 wild with delight at her unexpected success. She bought 
 two candles at the neighboring grocer's, and, having 
 secured a few sticks of drift-wood, that mother and child
 
 268 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 were really more heartily glad than many in an opulent 
 mansion. 
 
 At the time appointed, however, for Nelly to make 
 her next call upon her benefactress, she did not appear. 
 That evening a messenger came to say that the child was 
 very sick, and could only beg that " the lady who spoke 
 those kind words to her would come and see her." She 
 spoke not of outward gifts, it was only the kind words 
 which seemed to linger in her heart. ' ' They were the 
 first," said she, "that were ever spoken to me;" and 
 they were the last, save the accents of a mother's voice, 
 whence nothing else could emanate. 
 
 Her benefactress called to see her ; but Nelly's eyes 
 were closed, and her little heart beat faintly. She could 
 neither hear nor see, yet .there was one incoherent 
 expression Avhich she attempted to utter. It was of " the 
 lady who spoke the kind words." 
 
 This simple narration is strictly true, and with it is 
 embodied a touching meaning the power of a kind 
 word to the forsaken and friendless. It has a magic 
 spell which often reconciles the distressed to any out 
 ward condition, far more than even the relief of present 
 wants. 
 
 Those words were incorporated in the soul of little 
 Nelly. She went to heaven's gates with the cheering 
 accents; and if the spirits of the departed are permitted 
 to welcome those who follow after them, may not she who 
 spoke those words of kindness hope to be recognized by 
 that grateful child, where all the artificial distinctions of 
 society are done away, and the sweet charities and 
 benevolent acts of this life are alone accounted worthy
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 269 
 
 of remembrance ? Speak, then, speak words of kind 
 ness to the suffering, if you can do nothing more ! 
 
 Stands at thy gate no suffering child, 
 
 With sad, imploring air, 
 Who asks of thee her daily bread, 
 
 And would thy pity share ? 
 Lean, shivering, wan, that haggard child 
 
 Solicits but in vain ; 
 Thy door is closed with grating voice, 
 
 " Begone ! come not again." 
 
 Methinks, ere long, there is a gate 
 
 At which thou knockest too ; 
 And, as it opes, that little child 
 
 Stands present to thy view. 
 Her guardian angel waits to hear, 
 
 How urgent thy request ! 
 The door now closes with the voice, 
 
 " I know thee not, thou stranger guest ; 
 For, inasmuch as to this child 
 
 The voice of love thou didst deny, 
 So, now, to thy solicitings, 
 
 I must like thee reply." 
 
 The guest stood waiting, quite shut out ; 
 
 From all expected bliss, 
 And felt how sad was the reverse 
 
 Between that world and this ! 
 23*
 
 EVADING A DUN. 
 
 IT is curious to notice how some people can evade a 
 dun. There is the rich Mr. Skinner, who buys every 
 thing on credit. He gets his work, too, done by the best 
 of mechanics ; but they are not cash jobs. If, by way 
 of accommodation, a person to whom he is indebted sends 
 a messenger, stating, "it will greatly oblige him if he 
 would cash his receipted bill," sometimes, if he feels in 
 a pleasant mood, Mr. Skinner will do so, provided the 
 fractional part over the amount is "given in;" but let a 
 common workman present his bill for payment a few 
 days after his work is done, and he will be told " to go 
 about his business ; that he only settles his accounts when 
 he receives his dividends, which is semi-annually ; and 
 that if he wants any better treatment he may take a job 
 of some one else the next time." Now, as every one 
 knows Mr. Skinner is sure pay when the six months have 
 expired, he is passed over as a "hard customer;" and, 
 to keep in his favor, it is generally known that only 
 semi-annually one must expect his payment. 
 
 Sometimes, Mr. Skinner boasts how much the interest 
 amounts to which he derives from thus withholding a 
 settlement ; but he always forgets to mention how much 
 inconvenience and extra interest those to whom he is 
 indebted are obliged to pay to meet their liabilities.
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 271 
 
 Now, with our neighbor Tolman, the style of reason 
 ing is very different. He affirms that Mr. Skinner 
 inherited his wealth, and never knew the anxiety attend 
 ant upon not "quite enough;" whereas, he has been in 
 strait places, and feels it is only due the laborer to be 
 paid when his work is done. He therefore never has any 
 running accounts, and it was never said to him, ' ' Will 
 it be convenient for you to settle our little bill to-day ? " 
 and yet he seldom gets a job done as cheaply as friend 
 Skinner, for he has not the desire to beat those down 
 with whom he contracts. 
 
 There is another class, who always have a frivolous 
 excuse whereby they avoid a dun, and defer payment. 
 The sight of a bill always finds them with an excuse for 
 withholding payment. Either "they have not yet ex 
 amined the one rendered," or " they have been absent, 
 or disappointed in receiving some expected remittances," 
 or "there appears to be a slight mistake which requires 
 the supervision of the book-keeper;" all these are again 
 and again urged merely to postpone a settlement. This 
 is the delinquent creditor who generally settles arrearages 
 in July that were due in January. 
 
 Then there is the man in moderate circumstances, who 
 means to pay as soon as he possibly can, and who hates a 
 dun tremendously ; but he is constantly assailed by a 
 dapper little collector, who says, " We are greatly incon 
 venienced by such small amounts as yours, sir, and when 
 may we with certainty expect our bill liquidated?" 
 This man is sure to be punctual to the time assigned ; 
 but he says to his family, "I don't know how it is that 
 people contrive to evade duns, and postpone payments ;
 
 272 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 for my part, if I procure an article one week, I am sure 
 to hear from it the next ; while my neighbor has a six 
 months' reprieve without having an item presented to 
 him." 
 
 The fact is, nobody is afraid to dun the man who buys 
 but a small amount. The reasoning is, " If he don't pay 
 promptly, keep on dunning, and force him to do it ; it will 
 be no great loss to us if he withhold his patronage." 
 Whereas Madam Bruno, who rides in her coach, and 
 buys a thousand dollars' worth of silks and satins every 
 six months, only has to bid her coachman stop a moment 
 while she goes in to the book-keeper, and says, " My 
 bill, sir, which you sent me last week, will not be settled 
 for two or three months ;" and the young man with the 
 pen behind his ear bows very obsequiously, and replies, 
 " Just as it suits your convenience, Madam Bruno ;" and, 
 as she walks out toward the door to her carriage, one of 
 the firm meets her with a most complaisant air, and asks 
 "if he shall not have the pleasure of showing her some 
 choice fabrics he has just received ?" 
 
 Now, who says there is no advantage in keeping a 
 carriage ? If any one, it must be he is profoundly igno 
 rant of human nature, and the class of people who are 
 dunned.
 
 A PLEA FOR DOG-DAYS. 
 
 EVERYBODY vilifies dog-days ; there is no damp, un 
 comfortable morning, no day when the furniture is 
 moist, and the flies light heavily, and bite voraciously, 
 no time when you feel debilitated and worn down with 
 having had a sleepless night, when your disturbers have 
 been a concert of cats, whose voices could not harmonize, 
 or an army of mosquitos which, attacked you on every 
 point, but forthwith comes the exclamation, "We 
 always have such trials in dog-days ! " And so this 
 portion of time has come to be voted as the meanest, 
 most disagreeable, unendurable, of all days in the calen 
 dar. 
 
 Now, for one, I should like to know how we could 
 dispense with dog-days ? We might do without dogs, 
 I admit, because we can dispense with hydrophobia, and 
 that emanates from the canines ; but I should like to 
 know how we could live without the results which spring 
 from dog-days. Suppose it is a time " when all Bed 
 lam and Parnassus is let out," when flies do bite, and 
 children scream, and serenaders are out till midnight, 
 and the animals kick in the stable, and the house-dogs 
 growl and howl as their peculiar prerogative, and women 
 scold their husbands, and old bachelors clear off to new
 
 274 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 boarding-houses ; suppose the milk is sour, and the air 
 is damp and foggy, with occasionally a flash of lightning 
 and a roar of thunder ; who cannot bear six weeks out of 
 fifty-two, which are not altogether so pleasant, when the 
 harvest days come along, and the earth yields her richest 
 products, which were maturing all the time we were 
 defaming the weather? 
 
 I should like to inquire what great achievements were 
 ever carried forward without some drawbacks, some 
 endurances, some days of despondency, when the head 
 ached, and the heart grew sick ? Dog-days, we admit, 
 are peculiarly trying to strong as well as weak nerves ; 
 but for them, what woman could ever induce her husband 
 to take a journey, and shut up the house, and leave his 
 unpaid notes, and welcome every railroad train that car 
 ries him further and further from bank and counting- 
 rooms, and old dingy associations ? 
 
 If there were no dog-days, what would become of 
 those delightful watering-places, where swarms do con 
 gregate, and cheerfully coop up in seven-by-nine bed 
 rooms, and are most happy to pay exorbitantly for 
 such accommodations, with all other annoyances thrown 
 in. 
 
 If there were no dog-days, how could we test our 
 endurance of physical evils ? How should we learn to 
 feel grateful for the difference between a morning when 
 the starch is literally all wrung out of us, when our cof 
 fee tastes flat, and our newspaper items are insipid, and 
 our family are all out of sorts, one complaining that 
 her hair will not keep in curl ; another, that her newly- 
 ironed frock is all tumbled ; and a third, that the shine
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 275 
 
 has disappeared from dicky and boots ; I say, if we had 
 no such mornings, how little should we prize those cool 
 autumnal days when we are all on the right key, and 
 everybody looks smiling and feels happy ! 
 
 And then there are the free-and-easy fashions which 
 dog-days especially countenance. The prim gentleman 
 can sit in his thin coat, and keep on his slippers, doff his 
 neck-cloth, unbutton his vest if a fleshy man, swing a 
 fan to keep off the flies in his afternoon lounge, con 
 descending to remark on his wife's flounces, and the 
 uncomfortable condition of gentlemen who are burdened 
 with wigs ; and the poor woman is all of a perspiration 
 lest the false appendages when taken off should expose 
 the fact of her husband's indebtedness to them for his 
 youthful appearance ; for she never appears with her 
 natural charms, save in the privacy of her own room. The 
 hottest morning finds the prim madam with her foretop 
 smooth and glossy, her " stand-off" under-skirt, and her 
 rumpled, iron-rusted, white morning-dress ; for the prim 
 lady maintains that "dress commands respect." 
 
 And then, besides all the above enumerations, dog- 
 days have a tendency to cure envious people. 
 
 It was a hot morning some time in August, 1850, 
 when, at early dawn, I looked across the way, and espied 
 my neighbor, with his packed trunks ranged on the side 
 walk, and other undeniable marks that they were fitting 
 out for a regular campaign in the country. Presently 
 he locked his outside door, and ran across the street with 
 the key, to know if I would take charge of it during an 
 absence of six weeks. Immediately my envy was ex 
 cited. Why, reasoned I with myself, should the world
 
 276 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 be so unequally divided ? And then came the query, I 
 wonder how he can afford such jaunts any better than I ? 
 Somebody said he was deep in "fancy stocks." I hope I 
 did not wish they would depreciate ; but strange thoughts 
 run through envious brains. At any rate, when he 
 wheeled round the corner in the carriage, with all his 
 family, my impulse was to leave the window. Then it 
 flashed across my mind, how came he to think / could 
 take charge of his key for six weeks ? Was it decreed 
 by everybody that / was a permanent fixture ? I had 
 half a mind to travel off that instant. But, as the day 
 wore away, my feelings became more quiet. In a day 
 or two after, as I was looking over the items in the 
 morning journal, what should I discover but that "cer 
 tain burglars had entered Mr. S.'s dwelling, and abstracted 
 many valuables, besides injuring the furniture and car 
 rying off every article of plate !" I took the key and 
 marched over to the premises. I felt no envy then ; 
 everything was in a state of "glorious confusion." Added 
 to all this, we were telegraphed that one of my neigh 
 bor's children was taken sick on the route, and they were 
 most uncomfortably situated at a poorly-conducted hotel ! 
 Did I wish myself in his place then, think you 1 This 
 was the last time my envy was excited. I felt thankful 
 I had a home, and a nice bed, and airy chamber, and a 
 healthy family ; and all this lesson I acquired in dog- 
 days. 
 
 What if we do perspire freely ? What if the feline 
 race do hold concerts, and the canines howl, and the 
 babies cry, and the sky lowers, and women fret ? If we 
 are but at home all these things can have an amicable
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 277 
 
 adjustment. There are no landlords' bills to settle, no 
 " items " to quarrel over ; and the effect of these debili 
 tating dog-days results in heavy crops, plenty of produce, 
 a purse which no watering-place has emptied, and a con 
 firmation that the necessity of the stay at home princi 
 ple is, after all, the most salutary. So, wipe the brow, 
 and cheer up with the certain good results of dog-days. 
 If the city is empty, then the air is purer, the streets 
 less crowded, and one's home all the more agreeable. 
 24
 
 IN A DILEMMA. 
 
 " THE child will die, Mr. Foote, unless we have some 
 doctor, and who shall we have? Do run and see 
 neighbor Gray." 
 
 " Mrs. Gray -says, have a homoeopathist, by all means ; 
 but I met Mrs. Gill, and she says it is all a humbug to 
 crack up this system. She knows two children who have 
 died already under this treatment ; she says, try no 
 experiment, but doctor in the old-fashioned way, on the 
 allopathic system. Then you will have nothing to 
 reflect upon." 
 
 Mrs. Jones drops in to give he?' advice. " Now," 
 says she, "as you are an inexperienced couple, I am 
 going to advise you to try cold water and friction. I 've 
 literally rubbed diseases down, and washed them off. 
 Nobody thought my little Peggy would live,, but I kept 
 on washing and rubbing till the dear creature opened her 
 eyes, and seemed bright as ever." 
 
 A pail of water is furnished her, and a flesh-brush 
 and hair mitten. The child squirms and cries, and the 
 mother declares she must leave off. 
 
 Mrs. Jones is in the other room, insisting upon it the 
 child must be treated with "energetic action," and rubs 
 accordingly, to get up a perspiration. Mrs. Gill says she
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 279 
 
 looks upon such barbarous treatment as suicide; and 
 Mrs. Gray says calomel is just as bad, but one of the 
 homoeopathist powders would relieve instantly. 
 
 Here Jim runs for her doctor, Mrs. Gill sends the 
 father of the child for hers, and Mrs. Foote, in her 
 excited state, remembering how " hot-drops " once 
 relieved her, pours a quantity down the child's throat. 
 
 By this time, the two physicians have arrived. They 
 exchange glances at each other, and inquire if they are 
 mistaken in being directed to this house. They refuse 
 to confer together, and, both feeling their dignity some 
 what offended by the novelty of being sent for, as if the 
 skill of each is called in question, refuse to administer, 
 and both decamp. Mrs. Foote has offended Mrs. Jones, 
 and the child is now left quiet, and seems relieved ; na 
 ture has thrown off the alarming symptoms, and who 
 shall have credit for the cure 1 The mother says it was 
 the "hot-drops;" the father says it was the quiet after 
 the rubbing ; and Mrs. Jones says she did the work. 
 
 And now comes the question, who will they employ 
 when the child is next seized ? People are all afloat 
 on the system of medicine. One doses one way, and 
 another a contrary ; yet they both recover, have perfect 
 faith in their own way of doctoring, and are loud in 
 declaring against others. But hear the conclusion of the 
 whole matter, as given by experience. 
 
 Trust not thyself to quacks, neither in medicine nor 
 religion. A prescription for thy conscience should be as 
 accurate as one for thy stomach. Fast, keep thy mind 
 cheerful and thy countenance hopeful, and diseases will 
 not often come to thee ; or, should they threaten, they 
 will not find thee an easy prey to conquer.
 
 MALE COQUETRY. 
 
 " WELL, mere attentions ought to mean something. 
 If you, Mr. Small, have been appointing such special 
 meetings, making engagements, likewise, to ride and 
 walk, and everybody has construed them into a court 
 ship, unless you mean something^ you ought to pursue 
 a different course." 
 
 " But Mary is agreeable, and a pleasant girl to carry 
 on a flirtation. She sighs like an angel when I tell her 
 it will be inconvenient for me to call for a week, and she 
 actually wept when I left her for my travelling tour. I 
 suppose she feels dependent upon my attentions." 
 
 "Mr. Small, you are trifling with Mary's affections. 
 What is she to understand by your glances and visits, and 
 walks, and moonlight wanderings ; by your serenades, 
 your selecting her as your first partner in the dance, 
 your call the next morning to inquire for her health, the 
 music-sheets you gave her, the invitations from the family 
 which you accepted to dine frequently with them, and 
 the whole stock of courteous and winning ways by which 
 you sought to win her regard 1 I ask you, Mr. Small, 
 what did these things do but raise an expectation?" 
 
 " Only mere attentions, aunt;" and Small took his 
 cigar, and, with all the nonchalance in the world, acted the
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 281 
 
 comfortable gentleman who never did a wrong deed in his 
 life. His conscience was easy. He did care more for 
 Mary than anybody else. But, then, marriage was an ab 
 surd thing ; he never breathed a thought of it in her 
 ear, and how could she infer anything that had never been 
 expressed ? 
 
 " Mr. Small, you know not the baseness of thus tri 
 fling with a woman's affections. Mary is a gentle, confid 
 ing, lovely girl ; pure as the mountain dew, and unsullied 
 as the white violet that you and she have cultivated in her 
 parterre of flowers ; but, be assured, she dreams these 
 'mere attentions' mean something-. Why, the very 
 suggestion of your name mantles her cheek with such a 
 conscious blush, that I have seen her turn to the window 
 for concealment ; and then you may be assured those 
 lonely musings in her chamber, and those solitary walks 
 by the river-side, greatly favor the idea, that in the 
 future she is weaving a fantastic wreath of ivy over a 
 cottage, wherein are the charms of wedded life. But 
 tell me plainly, Small, did you never say anything by 
 which she might construe these attentions into that 
 which had its centre in the heart ? " 
 
 "Never, aunt, never! And, really, your eloquence 
 has quite moved me. Mary has only been to me as a 
 pretty pastime of my idle hours. She is a sweet vocalist, 
 and we have only sung love songs, and glanced occasion 
 ally in each other's faces. With the old man, too, I have 
 often accepted the honor of a glass of wine ; but I can 
 look them all in the face without a fear of being arrested 
 for a breach of promise ; " and Small puffed out a long 
 volley of smoke, and turned over the pages of the book 
 24*
 
 282 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 as if lie were not much interested in its contents, since 
 
 this conversation commenced. 
 
 i 
 
 Far differently was Mary occupied. She was arrang 
 ing a bouquet of flowers, according to the language which 
 they indicated, to present to Mr. Small; or she was 
 catching the sweetest tone of music, or practising the last 
 chorus, hoping it would meet his enthusiastic approba 
 tion ; and when she was alone with him, she was hop 
 ing some of his sentimental sayings might be construed 
 into some definite words, that the mere repetition of them 
 might clothe them with an unmistakable meaning. But, 
 to do Small justice, he never did mean to trifle, except 
 for his own pleasure ; for he was supremely selfish, and, 
 since the remarks of his aunt had resounded in his ears, 
 he resolved to absent himself yet more and more ; for 
 he would not injure the pure affections of Mary, not he 
 and so he saw her the less frequently, and was more 
 taciturn. 
 
 Mary grew sad. She lost the vivacity of spirits and 
 the elasticity of gait which were her former character 
 istics ; there was a sinking at the stomach, a fluttering 
 at the heart, a throbbing in the head ; restless nights fol 
 lowed, and febrile symptoms called for medical aid. 
 Alas for the prescription which could not effect a cure ! 
 Then the incipient stages of consumption began to ap 
 pear, and a change of place was recommended. But 
 Newport and Niagara both failed in restoring the bloom 
 that had faded upon Mary's cheek. Mere lookers-on 
 spoke of the baneful effects of our climate, in thus sap 
 ping the vital springs of health ; and the beautiful world 
 we live in was condemned as only fostering the seeds of
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 283 
 
 early decay. A sea- voyage was at length undertaken. 
 Italian skies, Swedish landscapes, and England's brac 
 ing air, added to the subduing influence of time, did 
 give a partial restoration ; but Mary was never again 
 the same blithe and happy being as before her affec 
 tions were thus chilled. There was a tinge of ro 
 mance, however, left in her nature. She lived among 
 flowers and pensive scenes, and erelong the village 
 clergyman became so enraptured with her pure and gen 
 tle nature, that he offered her his hand, and soon after 
 rejoiced in the possession of so precious a treasure. Yet 
 there was a sad history, all unrevealed in words, which 
 those mere attentions had caused to tinge and shade her 
 once bright and joyous spirit. 
 
 And Mr. Small was still pursuing one gala-day of 
 enjoyment. He did occasionally wonder if Mary were 
 perfectly happy. He still had a kind of regard for her 
 welfare ; but the field was large and his friends promis 
 cuous. He had since flirted with a dozen hearts and 
 pretty faces ; they were to him like garments when 
 slightly worn, which he threw off without compunction 
 as some fresh charmer appeared. Yet Mr. Small was 
 tolerated in excellent society; flirt as he might, and 
 entrap the affections as he did, he was always re 
 ceived with welcome, and scarcely a mother in the land 
 but would have freely consented to bestow her daugh 
 ter upon him; for Small inherited a large fortune, 
 had a singular faculty of pleasing, and his mind was just 
 cultivated enough to make him a fascinating companion ; 
 but he was a heartless wretch, and caused more sighs 
 than smiles from having lived in the world.
 
 LOVE OF FASHION. 
 
 You may talk about love of parents, and conjugal 
 love, and brotherly love, and love of humanity, and love 
 of the church ; but what do they all amount to, when put 
 beside the love of fashion, that everlasting pride of 
 appearance, which drives so many into insanity, which 
 makes so much wretchedness on account of unpaid bills, 
 which torments when one would be at ease, which pro 
 duces a restlessness which no drug can relieve ? Yes, 
 that insatiate demand, which must be appeased, makes 
 the bane of existence to many sensitive minds ; good- 
 natured fellows, who hate to deny their wives and daugh 
 ters ; who never did say " no " to an importunate request ; 
 Avho are made to believe it is necessary to have half a 
 dozen French hats and a change of jewelry once a 
 month ; who can easily be persuaded by daughter or 
 wife that a change of climate is demanded by their 
 impaired health. All these get the better of a man's con 
 dition when his pecuniary resources are insufficient, and 
 he is the most unhappy man alive. Place him on a 
 splendid couch is there any ease for him 1 It is not 
 that fly that lights upon his face which annoys him. Those 
 unpaid bills, and the face of that dunning little urchin, 
 who, twice a week, wishes to know " when it will be con-
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 285 
 
 venient to settle Mr. Todd's bill," take all the starch 
 out of his dickey, and all the flavor out of his coffee. 
 He turns over his newspaper ; but what avails it to him 
 that California is disgorging her mines to consignees ? 
 he has no interest there. 
 
 'Why is it father is so dull?" inquires young 
 sixteen, flounced up to her waist one item which helps 
 out his misery. And just at this time the cook demands 
 her wages, and the seamstress exacts her pay, and "wife" 
 wants her purse replenished, and business is dull, and 
 fashion is importunate, and the good man cannot make a 
 clean breast of it, and say he does not feel as if he could 
 afford the supplies; and so he goes on, goaded with a 
 load of unrevcaled anxieties, which prey upon his health, 
 and completely victimize him, so that he pays the penalty 
 by a short and fatal fever, or a paralysis, or some malady 
 which suppressed grief has engendered. 
 
 And what a family is left ! The quantity of bomba 
 zine and crape for mourning his loss tells the story. 
 And then the estate is declared insolvent, and after a 
 great outcry about the extravagance of the man's family 
 why, a purse is made up by the friends of the de 
 ceased, and presented to the widow ; and she still keeps 
 cook, chamber-maid, and parlor-girl, yet forever has a 
 moisture about her eyes as she speaks of the sacrifices 
 she makes on account of her "altered circumstances." 
 
 Let a poor mechanic die, and how people proclaim, 
 " Well, he has left a smart wife, and likely children, who 
 can earn their own living ! " And who would not rather 
 be the independent wife of the mechanic, than the 
 patched-up widow of the late fashionable man ?
 
 CHANGING PLACES. 
 
 A RESTLESS, roving habit, seems to be gaining in our 
 community. Once it was considered almost indis 
 pensable to a good marriage that the husband should be 
 the owner of the house he occupied, especially in the 
 country. Now, everywhere has become a city, every 
 body has assumed city habits. The country shoemaker 
 hires his tenement, because he does not consider himself 
 as " a fixture " in any village ; the shopkeeper is making 
 a trial, and boards his family at the hotel ; the minister 
 even has abandoned the old, ivy-grown parsonage, and 
 takes " lodgings " with some wealthy parishioner. In 
 the city, the trades-people move into the country in the 
 summer, and back again in the autumn. We have few 
 social firesides, and seldom does a man sit under his " own 
 vine and fig-tree." 
 
 What Ave are to become, where we are to gather the 
 household band fifty years hence, on a time-honored 
 " Thanksgiving," or a " Merry Christmas," is a mat 
 ter of some perplexity. If there are no family "man 
 sions," of course one strong tie is broken that linked us 
 with the past. As it now is, who can talk of his early 
 home? The child is born in one town, schooled in 
 another, his lot is cast in yet another for subsistence ;
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 287 
 
 and, perhaps, the far West is destined to hold his family, 
 and be his sepulchre. 
 
 I should not wonder if our New England homes, our 
 old family records, the places where our fathers lived, 
 the very tombs of our ancestors, in coming time should 
 only be a beautiful history relics which have passed 
 away under the all-powerful ban of present "improve 
 ments." Do you not know, reader, many a homestead that 
 has been transmitted for half a century, nay, more, some 
 times a hundred years, from father to son, and again to the 
 same descendant of the same name ; in the best parlor 
 of which you may find the "coat of arms," "the record 
 and genealogical tree," where all the different branches 
 are traced 1 And who would think of removing such a 
 relic any more than displacing a landmark 1 But times 
 are beginning to change. The most promising son hears 
 of large fortunes made in trade ; of golden California, or 
 some region where the slow accumulations from agricul 
 tural toil dwindle into insignificance. He goes to that 
 spot ; perhaps fails in health and purse ; but still the life 
 of a farmer does not suit his taste, and, rather than return 
 back and take " the homestead," where he might live 
 respectably, and die regretted, he suffers his patrimony 
 to be sold into the hands of strangers, takes his pittance, 
 perhaps settles on the banks of the Mississippi, dies of 
 some "fell disease," and his children never see, and 
 scarcely know, their father's birthplace ! 
 
 The ennobling business of agriculture is too often ex 
 changed for one of traffic or speculation in some distant 
 city. This arises partly from our aversion to hard labor; 
 but could I depict to you the thousand vexations, the
 
 288 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 struggles, the heart-sickness, nay, more, the ruin of 
 health and loss of all the vigor which manly toil would 
 give, I know you would desire to be carried back to the 
 plough, the scythe, the sickle, and the threshing-floor. 
 These are toils which a few hours' suspension will enable 
 you to prosecute again with cheerful hope ; but who ever 
 forgets " protested notes," settlement Avith a " hard cred 
 itor," and the stigma and loss of manly strength which 
 he feels in never being able to do business in his own 
 name ? 
 
 Young men, beware of change. All is not enterprise 
 that is ranked as novelty ; all is not a mine of wealth 
 which looks so gilded. You may part with your integ 
 rity by leaving your home ; you may secure a post of 
 honor by remaining there. See where duty leads, not 
 where inclination prompts, and your course will be right. 
 
 Home ! the old home of thy nativity ! Is there no 
 charm in its venerable look, in its ancient trees, in the 
 murmurings of that brook, in the yard where thou hast 
 frolicked, and the green fields where thou hast sported ? 
 If not, sell the homestead it matters not to whom ; but 
 if there be a sacred, touching influence in the spot, keep 
 it ; often visit it, if thy lot is cast away ; go to the tombs 
 of thy ancestors ; keep alive the sentiment of love which 
 once animated their bosoms, and be assured, when your 
 spirit takes its flight, your last aspiration will be " bury 
 me with my kindred ; let me sleep in death near the spot 
 where I awoke to life."
 
 THE AUDIENCE AND THE LECTURER. 
 
 WE hope it is an innocent amusement to watch the 
 promiscuous company in a lecture-room, especially a 
 crowded one. Arrive at what hour you may, somebody 
 is sure to have preceded you. " Silsby," the man with 
 the high dickey, always " foregoes " his tea, that Ire may 
 occupy his particular seat directly in front of the lec 
 turer. He carefully arranges his wig, draws up his 
 high overcoat collar, secures as much elbow-room as is 
 necessary, pulls out his evening paper, runs over the 
 doings of the legislature and common council, and notes 
 particularly the action upon the subject of a public 
 library, as he is a bachelor, loves reading at a low rate, 
 and imagines there may be some spare seats in the appro 
 priated room. 
 
 Next in turn comes in the Widow Wadman. She is 
 generally found on the same settee with Silsby, although 
 there appears to be no affinity between them, since the 
 bachelor is quiet, and the old lady is all of a nettle. 
 She has so many things to look after ; her spectacles, her 
 fan, her opera-glass, her muff, and her over-shoes, are 
 all in particular places, before she can hear a word. That 
 little roguish elf beside her is her grandson, and, as she 
 cannot see in the distance, his tiny neck is continually 
 25
 
 290 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 on the stretch to ascertain for the old lady whether " the 
 Pickle family have come in, and if General Bounce has 
 taken his seat, and whether he sees the governor yet." 
 
 Off in yonder corner sits an unhappy-looking couple, 
 a man and his wife, undoubtedly. The man is a grocer, 
 and the passage of the Maine liquor law would ruin his 
 trade ; he is conning over some paragraph adverse to his 
 trade, and, heavens, what a frown ! His wife asks him 
 a question, and he shakes his head. Those pipes and 
 quarter-casks in the custom-house fill his brain. 
 
 Right behind him sits Commodore Apsley. He has 
 been to a dinner party, and his eyes look heavy and red. 
 By hit side comes in a dapper little clerk, and a young 
 lady with a white nuba on her head. All the world with 
 them goes well ; they are talking of some adventurous 
 sleigh-ride, or some jilted swain who went too far in his 
 attentions, and the fair damsel played a game with him. 
 
 Beyond them is a freshly-engaged widower. How 
 gracefully he bows his lady into her seat ! and the 
 feathers wave, and the smiles play around dimpled cheeks, 
 and he inquires, "if she is entirely at her ease, warm 
 enough, does she feel the fatigue of walking? and then 
 such a pleasant tete-a-tete follows ! How strange it is 
 that Mrs. Simple must make the ill-natured remark, ' ' It 
 wasn't so in the first wife's day! She, poor woman, 
 had to delve all day, and get the baby to sleep before she 
 went out ; but in those days the man had not made his 
 fortune. Well," she sighs out, "that is human nature, 
 out and out." 
 
 All eyes are now directed to a particular quarter, 
 some "distinguished stranger" is whispered. He looks
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 291 
 
 blandly round upon the audience ; the man in the front 
 seat rises, and most heartily shakes hands with "the 
 illustrious," passes him to his seat, and feels much taller 
 for the honor conferred. 
 
 Now scores, of all ages, sexes and conditions, crowd 
 the seats, alleys and vacant places ; chairs and settees 
 are in high requisition ; somebody has trodden on the 
 skirt of old Mrs. Rodman's dress, and she is almost fran 
 tic ; Corporal Stubbs sneezes ; Major Baron gapes ; the 
 boys in the gallery stamp, and the organist enters, pulls 
 out all the stops, and thunders music loud enough to 
 make one deaf a week afterwards ! 
 
 But the filling-in is not yet entirely completed. There 
 are those " reserved seats," where some stupid fellow 
 places his " lady attendant," when they are suddenly 
 driven out by the keeper in charge, while, just after, the 
 particular friends of the orator enter and fill them. 
 
 Finally, the lecturer enters. He may have a school 
 boy'* gait, or a sailor's swagger, or a State-street air ; 
 and, if he lacks in confidence, few places are so trying 
 to his natural gait as the nine feet on the stage to the 
 chair behind the desk. Now he takes out his notes, 
 opens a large white handkerchief, puts it to his mouth as 
 an excuse to look upon the audience, and forthwith is an 
 nounced and begins his theme. It takes some minutes to 
 engage the minds of such an audience. You have their 
 eyes at first, that is all. 
 
 Woe to the lecturer that is prosy ! In a short time, 
 in the further gallery, boots are in motion ; the conta 
 gion spreads, the door slams, it is all over with the 
 speaker. The old lady in front is nodding ; the* man
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 behind her is fast asleep with his mouth partly opened. 
 The Widow Wadman has dropped her fan, and the en 
 gaged couples are in close conversation. Why spin your 
 yarn to its close, my good sir ? 
 
 Far different, however, is the reception of the witty 
 lecturer. He tells an anecdote, or says a "droll thing," 
 and what a universal shout ensues ! Everybody is wide 
 awake. Those a "little hard of hearing " place their 
 hands behind their ears to catch the sound ; the boys are 
 all on tiptoe to clap, and old men bring down their canes. 
 The orator proceeds, holding his audience captive.
 
 MODERNIZING. 
 
 Tins modernizing has been the ruin of many. 
 Says one, I have tried it, and experimental knowl 
 edge is worth a great deal. I once thought it would Ite 
 a fine affair to repair a house somewhat out of fashion, 
 and thereby I should get the cost of my " improvements " 
 back again in the market value of my estate. I wanted 
 to make a large parlor without folding-doors ; so I called 
 upon my carpenter and stated my plans, which he assured 
 me could be executed very satisfactorily. I engaged him 
 forthwith, and set about the business. It soon damped 
 my wife's ardor, however, when she saw the dust and 
 confusion it occasioned, and so I was forced to hold on my 
 way without sympathy. The rooms were thrown into 
 one, but what could I do with the ceiling ? 
 
 The mason protested against patching the walls ; 
 of course, then, the whole ceiling must be torn down, 
 newly lathed, and freshly mortared. Then the lookers- 
 on perceived as clearly as myself the importance of cut 
 ting down the windows, throwing out an iron balustrade, 
 &c. This was concluded on ; but, alas ! who ever want 
 ed two fire-places in one room, especially when both were 
 rendered useless by a furnace ? And what could be done 1 
 Why, I had gone so far, that I endeavored to make the work 
 25*
 
 294 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 as faultless as possible to myself and future purchasers. 
 So the fire-places were removed, and yet the unseemly 
 jog in the wall, which the chimney occasioned, left the 
 monument to tell where they once stood. Just as I be 
 gan to think I saw the end, every one who stepped in to 
 witness "the improvements," made the remark, "What 
 a pity that the ceiling is so low ! I think the cutting 
 down of the windows a decided failure ! " 
 
 Upon settling with the carpenter, I found my " im 
 provements " amounted to nearly six hundred dollars; 
 my mason was sure his bill ought to be two hundred 
 more, for the work on the chimneys was a heavy job ; 
 and sundries amounted to a few dollars short of a thou 
 sand. And had I accomplished my aim 1 Scarcely one 
 looked upon the work but wondered I had not sold the 
 old house as it was, and purchased a modern one ; for 
 all the doors, windows, ceilings, and work in other parts 
 of the building bore distinct marks of the very year it 
 was completed. I was not satisfied, after all my labor, 
 and concluded, after passing one uncomfortable winter in 
 my large modern room, which the furnace was hardly suf 
 ficient to heat, I say, I concluded to sell my house ! 
 At a private sale I entirely failed in my purpose; at 
 public auction it was finally sold for just two hundred 
 less than I had been offered before I attempted to improve 
 it ! Passing by the premises a month after, I felt a little 
 chagrined to see my improvements all displaced, and the 
 owner putting things back into the very condition from 
 which I had removed them. 
 
 Modernizing is very common ; but we should remember 
 some things look best as they are first made. For exam-
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 295 
 
 pie, a man generally looks best when he looks naturally. 
 False whiskers seldom improve him ; a wig does not look 
 better than the gray hair which age puts on ; indeed, any 
 attempt to improve nature will generally prove a failure. 
 
 I pity the girl who uses rouge instead of her natural 
 complexion, who modernizes her form almost to distor 
 tion, who puts on artificial airs, and simpers affectedly ; 
 for I am well aware the object is never accomplished by 
 such means. 
 
 This is the season for modernizing. We lay aside hats, 
 bonnets, coats, dresses, for a fashionable summer attire. 
 See that it is becoming before you purchase. Do not 
 wear a fashionable hat if you dislike it ; do not wear an 
 unbecoming bonnet because your milliner tells you it is 
 fashionable. Do not repair your house unless you can 
 improve it ; do not do it unless you can afford it. Make 
 no outlay which will haunt you if "money continues 
 hard." or " banks refuse to discount freely ; " but always 
 remember, seasonably, few people grieve over full purses, 
 while many cry over empty ones !
 
 THE FIRST BEREAVEMENT. 
 
 LIFE had been to me one summer's day. In that day, 
 to be sure, there had been some variation ; but the clouds 
 that overcast my sky only caused the sun to appear in 
 greater effulgence. From bereavement I had been spared ; 
 and the tear of sympathy had not lavishly been bestowed 
 upon others' sorrows. Judge, then, of the preparation 
 of mind with which I met the sickness and death of Myr- 
 tilla. 
 
 She was a lovely child ; it was the general impression, 
 as well as the feeling of parental partiality. She had been 
 lent us scarcely two full years when the messenger of 
 disease prostrated her, which was only a prelude to the 
 Angel of Death. I had often sat and watched the expan 
 sion of immaturity. The first accents of speech, how 
 fondly were they treasured, repeated and reechoed, by the 
 little, fragile child, who seemed delighted with the trans 
 ports she thus inspired ! And that feeble, tottering little 
 walk, supported by chairs, and held up by various arti 
 cles of furniture ; and occasionally the giving way of 
 some hold, which more generally ended in a merry laugh 
 than the natural cry. And now she began to notice, and 
 gradually develop the infantile mind. Sweet child ! we 
 taught her the old-fashioned but never-worn-out petition
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 297 
 
 of, "Now I lay me down to sleep; " and years have 
 passed since those lisping accents were repeated, yet they 
 are as audible to me this moment as if just echoed from 
 her voice. 
 
 When sickness came and assumed a threatening aspect 
 my courage forsook me. My faith (had I any '.*) was too 
 weak for my reliance. I felt she must not die. Had I 
 not a better right to the darling child than her heavenly 
 Father ? And why was she forced to suffer ? Innocent 
 and lovely, yet there she lay, racked with pain, fevered, 
 tossing, delirious ; and I was equally so, questioning the 
 Almighty's behest ! 
 
 The third day, Myrtilla died. A transient calmness 
 seized me, as I looked upon features now at rest ; yet an 
 agonizing, choking sensation followed, and I would fain 
 have gone Avith her. But whither had she gone ? Now 
 the awful realities of the unseen world began to dawn upon 
 me. In vain did my friends try to assuage my anguish, 
 by comforting assurances that ' : of such were the king 
 dom of heaven," and that Jesus especially blessed such. 
 My sorrow was selfish : I wanted my treasure back again. 
 For weeks I carried about with me a disquieted spirit. 
 I shrank mostly from friendly intercourse, save with those 
 to whom I could detail the uncommon traits of my lost 
 one's character. I could not compose myself to read. 
 Occasionally I would peruse some touching passages in 
 the records of the evangelists, showing me how Jesus 
 sympathized with the mourners ; but, alas ! I wanted a 
 present Saviour to restore my child, as was done to the 
 widow of Nain. 
 
 I felt myself rebellious and sinful, unreconciled and
 
 298 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 distressed ; and I wandered about, performing my neces 
 sary duties, but having no heart in them. Many pious 
 and many worldly friends visited me. One besought me 
 in the offices of prayer and holy submission to yield to 
 God's wisdom, who always appoints what is best ; while 
 others begged me in the round of gayeties and recrea 
 tions to try and obliterate the past ; but I could bear 
 anything better than the trial of forgetfulness. 
 
 There was no sudden change came over me, which 
 immediately subdued me, and yet there was something 
 wholly distinct from the effacing hand of time which 
 brought resignation into my heart. My feelings were 
 gradually softened ; my sympathies were quickened ; I 
 felt chastened, but not destroyed. A friend of mine 
 begged me to interpret to him my experience. I thought 
 it over, and the first distinct beaming of God's countenance 
 upon my stricken soul was in answer to my first prayer. 
 It was a feeble utterance ; it was wrung from my heart 
 after anguished weeks ; but it was sincerely uttered : 
 "Father, lead me to understand thy dealings with me." 
 
 Years passed on, and we were gladdened by the birth 
 of five promising children. They were healthy and vig 
 orous ; yet I never felt I had such a claim upon them as 
 was preeminently attached to Myrtilla. That chastise 
 ment was my first sorrow ; and it broke my stubborn 
 heart. It did, indeed, prove a blessing in disguise. I 
 have since often watched by the death-beds of little 
 children ; I have witnessed the convulsive agony of pa 
 rental hearts, and have longed to tell them that there is 
 relief for such troubled spirits ; but the words died upon 
 my lips.
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 299 
 
 Yet I can never tell you all the benefits of my earthly 
 sorrow. It so wonderfully checked my reliance on the 
 perishing, and implanted such a hope in immortality, 
 that, bitter as was the cup, and reluctantly as I drained 
 its bitter dregs, yet of the fruit of such an experience 
 I would not be dispossessed, could that child have lived 
 to have been to me an earthly ministering angel. 
 
 ' ' Where your treasure is, there will your heart be 
 also," says Holy Writ ; yet I would not think to carry 
 the earthly attachment to a heavenly state. I fear we 
 become too selfish, too carnal in our desires, to reach that 
 blissful state. I may not recognize my lost child there as 
 once mine ; I may not know any of my dearest kindred 
 and loved companions of this world ; but I trust to God's 
 love for that. If I need such helps to make my enjoy 
 ment, undoubtedly they will be furnished. What may 
 now militate against my wishes, I may leave behind me 
 with the perishing flesh. I would not fix my thoughts 
 on eternity by making it consist of similar pleasures I 
 have known here. Alas ! that Christian hearts should 
 be so distrustful of a Father's fostering care ! 
 
 We are too prone to feel that the friends who contrib 
 uted to our enjoyment here will again rejoin us here 
 after. It is a delightful thought, I well know ; but who 
 can tell how independent the disembodied soul may be 
 of what made its essential enjoyments while here 1 JSTo 
 doubt there are hidden avenues to our future bliss, which 
 no mortal conception has penetrated. That " redeemed 
 host " may all be equally dear to us, employed in differ 
 ent missions, but all fulfilling their immortal destiny. 
 The death of a child, or any other bereavement, the
 
 300 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 severe disappointment, the failure of earthly plans, in 
 deed, anything that has rebuked our waywardness and 
 inclined us to take hold of our Father's hand for sup 
 port, may be a primary cause of gratitude, for which, for 
 eternal ages, we may thankfully bless our God ; but, we 
 must remember, our souls are destined to unknown ex 
 pansion. It may not be necessary in eternity that we 
 should remember our birthplace in time, only just so far 
 as the discipline of earth was the preparation for the 
 enjoyment of heaven. "We talk profoundly of the capa 
 bilities of the soul. Alas, how little do we understand 
 them ! The lifting of the thin veil, which partitions us 
 from such a revelation, may disclose such new senses, 
 such an illimitable state of progression, as to utterly ab 
 sorb all our earthly associations. Our employments may be 
 so happily adjusted to our enlarged conceptions, that the 
 friendships of time may seek no renewal. But in one 
 thing let us be confident : as we had no personal agency 
 in furnishing the auxiliaries which promote our present 
 peace, so, beyond this state of being, we shall undoubtedly 
 be introduced to just as radiant and beautiful visions as 
 our improvement here has fitted us to comprehend or 
 enjoy there. 
 
 But our faith is so weak ! Do we not hear sorrowing 
 friends exclaim, under any fresh calamity, " If the de 
 parted know the sufferings of the friends they have left 
 behind, it must embitter all their glorious state ; " as if 
 we only closed our eyes, and carried into the future the 
 same earthly feelings with which we struggled here ! 
 No, I would say ; nothing but the impress of this life 
 follows us ; the aggregate of good or evil is concentred
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 301 
 
 in our judgment, which the soul passes upon itself, as 
 with heavenly vision it then sees the end from the begin 
 ning. How can we, then, for a moment suppose, that 
 the great Author of immortality left such a flaw in his 
 almighty wisdom, as not to guard us against every defect 
 which our finite minds may suggest 1 I would arm 
 thee against such a jealous distrust, my bereaved friend. 
 Infinite wisdom has, in holy keeping, all those " who 
 have crossed the flood." See thou to thy earthly com 
 bat, and struggle on for the attainment of a more perfect 
 character, if thou wouldst make thy sorrows blessed. 
 26
 
 PROPERTY. 
 
 ACQUISITION and possession are two very different 
 things, producing very different results. The desire to 
 get seems an instinctive element in many. Indeed, we 
 know not but it is a natural element of our being. Take 
 a glance at life. The little infant first opening his eyes 
 cries for something out of his reach ; the blaze of a can 
 dle arrests his attention, and he would fain put his tiny 
 fingers in the brilliant light. Childhood is just as grasp 
 ing. The boy begs for his kite, his marbles, and various 
 playthings, which, when obtained, fail to satisfy. There 
 is always some other lad who has a coveted treasure. 
 The youth of sixteen longs to feel he is no more a minor, 
 and boasts what he will do when that period arrives. 
 The man looks out from his busy store, and hears of the 
 retired cottage, and sighs for ease amidst luxurious 
 indulgence, where the irritating bustle of trade will no 
 more reach him. The man of retirement feels a vacuity, 
 and wonders why, as he ranges over his elegant man 
 sion and his gravelled walks, so little enjoyment attends 
 the acquisitions ; and old age, still tenacious of life, 
 recounts the exploits of an early period, dwells on the 
 changes of society, and, when not solaced by the prospect 
 of a heavenly home, tightly clings to its earthly posses-
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 303 
 
 sions, and even mourns that so little time is left to hold 
 on to present acquisitions. The desire, nay, even the 
 struggle to attain, seems to be the period of the greatest 
 enjoyment. 
 
 A friend invited one of his companions to visit him, and 
 promised to show him the beauty of his garden, the 
 varieties of trees, the shrubbery and green-house, where 
 so many rare plants were deposited. He accepted ; and, 
 having surveyed the beautiful enclosure, and feasted his 
 eyes upon all it contained, as he turned away from 
 beholding it, he bowed, and said, " I thank you." 
 " For what?" asked his friend; "surely you have had 
 nothing yet demanding gratitude." "I think differ 
 ently," replied the friend. "I have gazed upon all, 
 which has cost you so much money and anxiety, for 
 nothing, and have been about as much benefited as your 
 self; for, after all, you can do no more than look upon 
 these things." 
 
 It does not necessarily follow that the man in posses 
 sion of his million must be unhappy. If he is indolent, 
 he will undoubtedly be so ; but, if his mind is active, of 
 course his hands will be often employed, and the ennui 
 which attends repletion will not be his fate. Why is it 
 that the poor and middling classes so often envy the rich ? 
 Certainly these people have the advantage of fortune's 
 favorites. A gentleman who owned a valuable horse 
 once remarked that his groom took the most pleasure 
 with him. Said he, "I am always fearful when I drive 
 him that he will be lamed, or when I stop at a hotel that 
 he will not be properly attended. My servant has no 
 such fears. He drives him at will ; whistles as he goes ;
 
 304 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 follows him to the stable, and, refreshed by his ride, sits 
 down and enjoys a hearty meal. I, on the contrary, 
 have some vexatious bill to settle, or stocks are depre 
 ciating and money is difficult to invest ; and, with these 
 thoughts crowding upon each other, the zest of my appe 
 tite is taken off." 
 
 The man of wealth has many tenants who inhabit his 
 shops and houses. He employs a man to collect his 
 rents ; the person returns, and informs him one is about 
 removing, another says he shall do the same unless some 
 repairs are made, while a third deems it needful to his 
 comfort that the pure Cochituate should be conveyed to 
 his chamber. Some of the rents are paid, some are left 
 in the arrears, and some will never be paid. The owner 
 finds real trouble in his possessions. 
 
 You may call these trials small trifles, unworthy 
 one's attention, yet they do help to make up life ; they 
 discompose the spirits, lead one to dwell upon the ingrat 
 itude of human kind, and often wish they were acquir 
 ing instead of possessing. There is a kind of vigor 
 attends the getting a spur which urges us to make 
 sacrifices, and a deceitful, yet buoyant hope, that the 
 future will remunerate us for all present discourage 
 ments. But in this we see the wisdom of our heavenly 
 Father, who permits us never to rest satisfied with earthly 
 attainments. Thus the soul is, as it were, pushed along 
 to realize its higher destiny, and seek its more enduring 
 treasures in things which perish not with the using.
 
 THE CAST-OUT EVERGREEN. 
 
 IN a tangled wild-wood there grew a luxuriant ever 
 green. It had taken root in the damp earth beneath a 
 clump of dried leaves. But gradually it peeped forth, 
 and, throwing its feeble tendrils around the scattered and 
 decayed branches which autumnal and wintry winds had 
 thickly strewed around, it entwined itself by such sup 
 porting embraces, until it reached a trailing length, and 
 assumed a brilliant verdancy, which made it a conspicuous 
 beauty among the dried shrubbery and mouldering foliage 
 which encompassed it. And there for years, it may be, 
 it had grown unobserved. Even the bright rays of the 
 sun but scantily and slantingly shone in upon its branch 
 ing progress ; for, among the majestic oaks and stately 
 pine-trees, the eclipse which fell upon the evergreen was 
 sometimes almost total. Yet it knew no stint, no fading 
 hue ; and no rude footsteps had ever trampled upon it. 
 In its obscurity it seemed to obey one of the great laws 
 of nature, and silently to live on with increasing beauty 
 and strength. At every few paces a livid green shot 
 out, more tender and beautiful than others with which it 
 claimed affinity, and thus an added beauty was given by 
 its changing colors. 
 
 But erelong footsteps are heard in this sacred forest. 
 26*
 
 306 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 Over briers and brambles, over underbrush and rubbish, 
 the pursuit is urged, and the lovely evergreen is at length 
 espied in the tramp. The fatal knife soon severed it from 
 its damp root. Gently was it untwisted from its support 
 ing holds, and through many a gap, and over many a 
 wild and thorny bush, had it extended itself. It was in 
 deed hailed by the gleaners as a rare treasure, and care 
 fully and faithfully was it twined in a broad receptacle, 
 which was designed to enclose many of its kindred ; for the 
 Christmas holidays were approaching, and this undying 
 evergreen was to be woven in a chaplet as an emblem of 
 the Christian faith. 
 
 Its destination was in a stately mansion, and the prep 
 aration was in view of scenes of festivity and joy. By 
 maiden fingers it was rounded and arranged with more 
 perishable wild flowers, and hung in the splendid draw 
 ing-room windows. Here was an emblem of life contrasted 
 with a dreary prospect without ; but it was a new life to 
 the vine which had been cradled amidst alternate snows 
 and scanty sunshine. In its strange atmosphere a radiant 
 glare of light always beamed upon it. When the setting 
 sun would have left it in its native darkness, the brilliant 
 artificial light shone quite as strongly upon it. And 
 then only a frosty window-pane lent it any damp and 
 refreshing aid to save it from decay ; for, amidst the 
 heated drawing-rooms where mirth and music were keep 
 ing time, there was no absence of a blighting heat which 
 withered both animate and inanimate things. Yet for 
 twenty successive holidays did this evergreen maintain 
 its position. The wild flowers which were first put 
 between it were long since perished, and a decaying
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 307 
 
 beauty was now resting upon the evergreen. It twisted 
 itself, and grew rusty and fading. But it had answered 
 its purpose it had maintained its place as long as the 
 festive season lasted, and then the window which con 
 tained it was suddenly thrown up, and the chaplet was 
 thrown among other rubbish into the street ! 
 
 As with quiet gaze I looked upon it, I too saw an em 
 blem of worldly friendships. It was no more suggestive 
 of Christian faith ; for the place it now occupied was but 
 an emblem of fallen greatness, of short-lived remem 
 brances, and of cast-off beauty. And while I moralized, 
 a little tattered beggar picked up the relic, and with her 
 cold and benumbed fingers sought to place it around the 
 crown of her bruised and faded bonnet. Then with a 
 lightsome tread she made her way to yonder attic, where 
 the puny baby tore it in pieces upon the cold hearthstone. 
 Thus ended the cast-off evergreen ! 
 
 Shall I weaken your impression, kind reader, by an 
 analogous picture ? Have you never seen the protected 
 child growing up amidst silent influences, maturing year 
 by year in a steady growth the pride of parental fos 
 tering, throwing out the tendrils of affection, dreaming 
 only of merry days, while the soft waters went murmur 
 ing by, and in their placid, unruffled flow seemed to 
 image only the innocent thoughts and face of him who 
 stood upon the brink of the stream ? By and by comes 
 a rough breeze, and the image is no longer reflected. 
 The world has called him out of that peaceful home, and 
 he mingles in a new and heated atmosphere. For a time 
 he is unmindful that he has severed the root from which 
 he drew his healthful nutriment. He plunges into the
 
 308 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 strange glare of brilliant and festive life. He lives in 
 an excited and pestilential miasma. By slow degrees 
 his moral principles are undermined; lie is enfeebled, 
 perhaps bloated, perchance fevered, with the association. 
 But, alas, he has withered at the root, and men cast him 
 out like the worthless evergreen ! 
 
 Is it not so with the devotee at fashion's shrine ? So 
 long as with princely fortune one gives and returns the 
 merry dance, and provides sumptuously at the festive 
 board, is he not sought, caressed and flattered ? But 
 remove the gilded show which his ample fortune sup 
 plies ; let him now buffet the fierce gales which only 
 plunge him still deeper in the dark shades of poverty, 
 and is he not, too, " cast off" as the evergreen ? 
 
 Alas, that man should be rigid and cold with his bro 
 ther, even as nature with her rough winds and fearful 
 tornadoes, which sometimes destroy the richest treas 
 ures ! The little Avild-flower, that grows so comely in its 
 silent retreat, untouched by foreign hands, puts forth its 
 tender branches and shuns the vulgar eye, content to 
 bloom in some guardian shade. The morning and even 
 ing sun smile upon it ; its honeyed blossoms scent the 
 desert air ; but the unpitying frosts of autumn leave no 
 vestige of the flower. It came from nothing, and to 
 nothing it has returned ! 
 
 But here my analogy fails. We are born into an 
 endless life, and if we suffer ourselves through our own 
 misconduct to be " cast off," we cannot smother or anni 
 hilate our life. Consciousness, once awakened, never dies. 
 But if, by adherence to the firm root of principle, we 
 fearlessly tread life's thorny passages, and find ourselves
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 309 
 
 " cast out " in tlie conflict, no whirlwind or earthquake 
 can destroy the germinating principle ; for, unlike the 
 frail duration of the flower, or the decay of the ever 
 green, we shall yet ripen beneath a more congenial sky, 
 under the guardianship and sunshine of a Father's pro 
 tecting love.
 
 THE WELL-ORDERED HOUSE. 
 
 MY friend has been two years building a house, in 
 order to surround himself with every convenience and 
 comfort that can possibly be brought within his range. 
 It is just completed, and is pronounced a perfect model. 
 The most exquisite taste is now being displayed in the 
 furniture. He has imported the finest specimens of mar 
 ble busts, the most antique vases, and some of the rarest 
 specimens of paintings which an Italian artist could bring 
 out on canvas. And, when the whole shall be completed, 
 he intends to invite a numerous party of friends to inspect 
 it ; for he is a little vain of the perfect specimen he is 
 thus enabled to exhibit. 
 
 Yet, after all, my friend is not a good householder. The 
 splendid out-building which holds his body has furnished 
 him with no suitable apartment, well fitted up, to hold that 
 invisible mind which is still vacant, or filled with a thou 
 sand fancies which make him in a constant state of unrest. 
 He, therefore, walks his splendid halls, and traverses his 
 magnificent drawing-rooms, where the mirrors only reflect 
 his discontented countenance, and the wan. haggard, look 
 of despair. Evidently, he is still in a dilapidated state ; 
 the real tenement in which he lives is suffering for want 
 of repairs. There are a thousand vexatious disquietudes,
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 311 
 
 which this outside show does not remove ; vacant cham 
 bers, which need to be furnished ; large spare rooms, 
 that need to be brushed and ventilated, and set in order, 
 for the guests that temporarily reside there. 
 
 The poor man, upon whom he has just bestowed his 
 alms, looks somewhat puzzled to interpret that despairing 
 glance he cast towards him ; he is at a loss, moreover, to 
 interpret the strange ordering of Providence in these 
 seeming inequalities of condition. ' ' With that house, 
 those luxurious couches, servants to do his bidding, 
 plenty of money wherewith to anticipate every want," the 
 poor man queries, "why does he not look more like a 
 happy man ? " He turns away from that massive granite 
 dwelling, and down in yonder alley he carries the dollar 
 just given him, and distributes its avails among a swarm 
 of hungry children with whom he lodges. They are not 
 his own ; but the feeling of pity inspired him this morn 
 ing to beg in his own name for them. The food is pro 
 cured ; and those faces, which hunger has made lean and 
 wan, now brighten with gratitude, and they bless the 
 kind old man who was so thoughtful as to give them this 
 bountiful breakfast. This blessing sends a thrill of trans 
 port through an infinite number of fibres, Avhich lights up 
 the love in his heart, and makes him the happiest bene 
 factor in the world. They all f eat their meal together, 
 and sunshine plays around the board. There are merri 
 ment and jocund hilarity ; and the youngest climbs his 
 knee, and repeats her little hymn of gratitude. 
 
 The rich man took his meal alone. There was a ser 
 vice of silver upon his table ; the smoking Mocha was 
 distilled for an epicurean taste, yet the flavor was un-
 
 312 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 heeded ; the hot roll -was scarcely tasted, for he was fast 
 becoming a dyspeptic ; and the bit of sirloin was only 
 cut in small atoms from about the centre. He moved 
 away his chair, gave a deep sigh, rang the bell for the 
 removal of his delicacies, and paced his dining-room with 
 a heavy heart. He, too, wondered why he was left a 
 prey to such sad forebodings ; why life had lost all its 
 sweetness, and he should thus fall a wreck within his 
 marble palace. Evidently he had taken better care of 
 his outward tenement than of that within. One half the 
 attention paid to regulating his idle fancies, to forgetful- 
 ness of self in some effort to relieve another, together 
 with a cultivation of those social qualities which would 
 gladden his heart, would have made him what he so ear 
 nestly desires to be, namely, a happy man. 
 
 And so people look on and condemn riches as the bane 
 of personal enjoyment in many instances ; as hardening the 
 heart, and making people morose and churlish. It is not 
 the mine of gold which necessarily produces this result ; 
 but rather, in our efforts to amass it, we so neglect the 
 interior condition of our dwelling, as to be incapable of 
 afterwards enjoying ourselves when most ready to do so. 
 
 I have a friend, too, who is not a good housekeeper. 
 Her home is the abode of neatness and precision. A 
 single cobweb could not be found in all her house. She 
 is forever rearranging, remodelling, and beautifying her 
 external condition ; yet she has great unrest within. A 
 petty vexation, a small anxiety, may so ruffle her feelings, 
 that in that capacious and well-ordered dwelling there 
 shall be no inward peace for the day. Plainly, trifles 
 have acquired such a sway over her feelings, that she is
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 313 
 
 unable to rise above them. You can trace that assumed 
 cheerfulness ; beneath it lies a world of harassing thoughts, 
 and a disquietude with which her friends may be familiar ; 
 but they can never know its hidden depth. Life to her 
 is all a cloud ; there is a painful intensity in living. The 
 enjoyment which her ample means might furnish is rare 
 ly felt, simply because she has never removed the cob 
 webs and dust which have so frightfully accumulated 
 within. Had the mirror which so often reflected her 
 varied apparel but shown her the deformity within ; had 
 that small beginning of indulgence in an ill-tempered 
 thought been subdued; had that wayward fancy been 
 subjugated and controlled by reason ; in one word, had 
 she sought for strength from above to enable her to com 
 bat successfully with these inward foes, undoubtedly she 
 might have become as efficient an interior housekeeper as 
 she is now an outward one. 
 
 Alas for us that we know ourselves so imperfectly ! 
 We talk about being < : intimately acquainted with our 
 friends;" we analyze their motives, and pass judgment 
 upon their actions ; but what in truth do we know of our 
 " own interior life " ? And, yet, it is this which makes 
 all our world ; our whole prosperity centres here. There 
 would be much more significance in our inquiring after 
 the prosperity of the soul, than the health of the body. 
 Indeed, the former quite frequently determines the state 
 of the latter. So that, merely in a selfish view, to become 
 happy and well, it behoves us to regulate our interior 
 dwelling. 
 
 Take, for example, the dyspeptic man or woman. You 
 may compound for them all the drugs in the medical 
 27
 
 314 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 vocabulary; but, with that mind "ill at ease," you can 
 no more effect a cure than you can cause the sun to shine 
 at midnight. Hence, physicians so frequently recom 
 mend a change of objects as most beneficial, something 
 which removes the moping melancholy of ill-assorted 
 thoughts ; in one word, the refurnishment of our secret 
 apartments, which have become so blackened and shattered. 
 Yet, after all, the mere journey from one continent to 
 another may only be a temporary alleviation of our in 
 ward distresses. It may varnish over the unsightly 
 spots ; but they will reappear in coming time, unless a 
 more radical application is made. The truth is, we are 
 tempest-tost ; we have lost our chart, and know not our 
 latitude ; and we need the efficient aid of more than a 
 human pilot. The mind does not receive permanent 
 rest by change of place. Have we not long enough tried 
 the experiment ? The spiritual appetite must be fed upon 
 spiritual food. We crave that nutriment, and yet vainly, 
 nay madly, seek to appease our hunger by attention to 
 the mere shell which encases all that is truly ill-condi 
 tioned. We build our houses, make our feasts, go out in 
 quest of social intercourse, or shut ourselves in well-stored 
 libraries. Yet watch yourself, my friend, when all these 
 allurements have ceased, and you are alone with yourself. 
 What is the foundation of your future hopes ? You have 
 plans for coming time, unquestionably ; but do they not 
 all take hold of unsubstantial enjoyments ? The partial 
 deception may gloss over your real needs for a brief 
 period ; but you are a prodigal, and, until you come to 
 yourself, no permanent peace awaits you. Empty, then, 
 and sweep your interior dwelling. Place a mirror there
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 315 
 
 that shall faithfully disclose your true character. Regu 
 late the furniture, and keep it in order. Subdue those 
 extravagant fancies which cause your unrest. Keep your 
 thoughts tranquil. Do not postpone this new arrange 
 ment whereby your prosperity is secured. Would it not 
 just now be a favorable time to inspect this inner dwell 
 ing, and attend to repairing its condition 1 It is better 
 than any gift which a friend may bestow. It is better 
 than beautifying, by costly .presents, your friends' apart 
 ments ; yet such an inspection shall so reveal the extent 
 of means whereby your generosity shall be displayed, 
 that every proper token shall be bestowed ; for the soul's 
 prosperity never curtails generous impulses, since, in its 
 spacious chambers, it admits every true principle, and 
 hospitably entertains every well-conditioned guest.
 
 IN A "WORRY." 
 
 SOME people seem only to worry out existence. They 
 have all external means of enjoyment, yet they are never 
 at ease. A lady of this character, with ability to pro 
 cure herself every outward enjoyment, Avas lately con 
 gratulated upon her freedom from all vexatious and 
 annoying trials. "Why," said she, " I 'm full of trouble. 
 I am always in a ' worry ' about ' Isaac ;' when he returns 
 from sea I can enjoy nothing, because I know he is going 
 again ; when he is at sea, I am always expecting to hear 
 he is dead, or cast on some desolate island." Yet " Isaac" 
 was not her husband, but an adopted nephew, upon whom 
 so much sympathy was lavished. 
 
 Another friend I could name is always tried, or 
 "worried," with her domestic troubles. "Bridget got 
 up late," or " Netty goes out too often," or " Ned is 
 becoming a careless driver ;" and, between seeking com 
 fort and finding it, life becomes a very wearisome affair, 
 and is entirely fretted away in relating troubles that have 
 been lived over. What a pity it is that we are so forget 
 ful of the laws of inward peace as to brood over the past, 
 talk about its evils, and thus make them ever present ! 
 
 Then, there is another class who are always " worried " 
 about what no human foresight can prevent. An east 
 wind, a hot day, a sudden shower, a dense fog, or a heavy
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 317 
 
 dew, all alike vex them. Allowing such things to prey 
 on the spirits, makes us very disagreeable companions. 
 Who would select such a one for a travelling friend? 
 Who would take such a one for life 7 When a man 
 considers how much his comfort is concerned with a wife's 
 temper, how she leads him through life's rough places, 
 with a violent or gentle hand, before he chooses his future 
 destiny, let him consider. The embryo of the woman is 
 often seen in the child. Petulant, ungovernable, indulged 
 children do not always rise above the natural propensities 
 of early years when they arrive at womanhood ; neither 
 does the surly, rough lad, often become the agreeable 
 gentleman. Yet, upon the disposition to meet the every 
 day discipline of life, depends all our enjoyment. A calm, 
 trusting spirit, a forbearing, hopeful temper, a counte 
 nance where smiles predominate, who would fear to unite 
 with such a one ? The happiest effect upon a whole life 
 often follows a well-matched pair. The mild and amiable 
 graces will blunt the rough edges and the awkward man 
 ners of one nearest our hearts ; for the magic influence of 
 sympathy is electric, and assimilation often produces the 
 admirable traits we come in contact with, and a likeness 
 is imperceptibly stamped upon the character. It has 
 been said (I know not how truly), that gazing upon the 
 benign expression of the portrait of a deceased and be 
 loved friend, will, in time, produce a calm and serene 
 expression upon the gazer; so indelible is the stamp, 
 that the soul of our friend becomes mirrored in our own. 
 Away, then, with "worrying," fretting trifles; they 
 mar the beauty of the human countenance, and eat, like 
 canker, into the soul. 
 27*
 
 THE FADED LEAF. 
 
 IT was only a leaf which riveted my attention, a 
 dried, sere, yellow leaf ! It fell from yonder tree, whose 
 luxuriant shade had so softened and mellowed the bright 
 rays of the morning sun, during the hot and sultry days 
 of midsummer. It made but one of the thousand which 
 had helped to form the deep shadow, and it was the first 
 to fall ; yet it seemed possessed of a restless activity, 
 now it had dropped from its former companions. The 
 slightest wind wafted it under busy feet ; anon it rose 
 again, as a higher gust came ; then it whirled along the 
 thronged street down the shallow ravine ; and, after flut 
 tering and dancing like a thing of joyous life, it was 
 borne into the watery current and floated down the nar 
 row "stream into a vast reservoir, where it disappeared 
 forever ! 
 
 Just after the fall of the leaf, I missed hundreds of 
 its companions ; at length they all disappeared, and only 
 the bare branches and barren trunk stood, unclothed and 
 unsheltered, alone ! Nature, as if prodigal of her moni 
 tions, put on a sterner countenance ; and chilly winds and 
 clouded skies, and heavy storms, succeeded ; so that 
 her summer smile was followed by strong indications of 
 her inflexible purpose to change her universal aspect ;
 
 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 319 
 
 and, added to these, came an inscrutable dispensation 
 of Providence. In yonder apartment was the friend of 
 my summer hours, who had stood with me beneath the 
 spreading foliage of the desolate tree, and she too was 
 smitten by a sudden disease, which caused her to wither 
 like the frail leaf. Many tendrils of affection were en 
 twined around her ; loving hearts and ministering hands 
 were there ; but the common decree, that causes the leaf 
 to fall, had likewise been passed upon her. She too 
 faded, withered, and fell. We bore her to her last rest 
 ing-place among the rustling leaves and tall branches 
 of desolate trees, and, with a few clods of earth, we 
 raised a mound, under which she securely sleeps. And 
 where was the spirit, with its unceasing activity, as it 
 floated down the current of life ? Did it wander, like the 
 leaf, void of companionship, till it plunged into a vast 
 abyss, and there met its final extinction ? It could not 
 answer me one of the thousand queries which I would 
 fain know. But nature again spake ; that leafless tree 
 was only preparing itself, by stripping its foliage, for a 
 greener dress and more luxuriant shade ; its branches were 
 resting awhile, to expand and strengthen themselves, and 
 reappear in still more beauteous attire. This seeming 
 decay was not, then, real ; the going away of my friend 
 was only a preparation for higher life. " But why," 
 said a lovely form, that gently whispered in my ear, and 
 whom I knew to be an angel, " why gatherest thou thy 
 strength from the decaying, restless monuments of nature 
 alone ? Hast thou no higher revelation of the God of 
 nature ? Has he not sent a messenger to dissipate the 
 darkness of the tomb, and to teach thee that it is meet
 
 320 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 the corruptible should put on immortality by this apparent 
 death ? That spirit is now surrounded by ministering 
 angels, and, having been welcomed by its Saviour into un 
 known regions of delight, after feasting awhile amidst 
 the seraphic joys of its new existence, will have a mission 
 such as glorified spirits only can perform. A life of 
 useful, beneficial activity on earth, peculiarly trained that 
 soul for its celestial employment in heaven. Thy friend 
 is still near thee ; heaven is no distant place." And while 
 I listened and wondered, the spirit fled, and my gaze was 
 only fixed upon a little white speck of cloud, wherein the 
 vision entered and passed away forever. So Nature was 
 swallowed up in Revelation, and I went on my way cheer 
 fully, but thoughtfully ; for I knew that in a little time 
 a greater company would be gathered, and the tendrils 
 which now clustered around my heart would be broken, 
 and I, too, should long to join in the blessed society. 
 
 Then I, was glad the leaf had fallen, and I murmured 
 no longer that my friend had departed ; for Nature and 
 Revelation were but handmaids to each other, and both 
 spake by the same great teacher, Death.
 
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