MMM 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ' 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 - 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
" Xor till each withering plant be ■h st 
 A<k who the dressers chance to be." 
 
 Chap. vi. 
 
A LIFE-LONG STORY: 
 
 OR, 
 
 |m 1 mg Sister's feept? 
 
 FACTS AND PHASES FOR THE TIMES. 
 
 DEDICATED TO THE WOMEN OF ENGLAND. 
 
 BY one oe themselves. 
 
 'WATCHMAN, what op the Night? 
 "And he cried, *A Lion in the Way, my Lord. ' 
 "WATCHMAN, what of the Niqht? 
 "AMD the WATCHMAN said, 'The Morning cometh and also the Night ; \r n 
 
 Enquire, Enquire ye. Return, come.' 
 'But I said, 'I will weep bitterly, because of the Spoiling op the Daughter 
 of my People.' " 
 
 LONDON: 
 S1MPKIN, MARSHALL, & CO., STATIONERS' HALL COURT 
 
 1859. 
 
LOAN STACK 
 
3f 
 
 CONTEXTS. 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 CHAPTEE I.— Mother. 1 
 
 World's Great Eye — Troubled Sleep — Faithful Promiser — Sub- 
 mission — Song for the Heart- Weary— Parting — Daily Toil — 
 Mother-Love — Mother- Influence — Unsolved Enigma. 
 
 CHAPTEE II.— The Respectable Poor and their on dit 7 
 
 Courtesies, Reasoning, and Sympathies of the Poor— Council of 
 Constance— Slow Muider — Sir James Clarke — One Tnousand 
 Slain — Dr. Lankester — Bishop of Oxford — They Rest Not — 
 Lord Shaftesbury— Feculent Air — Dr. H. Eoe — Drugged Coffoe — 
 Blood Spots— Great Ladies — Parliament— Blindness. 
 
 CHAPTER III. -Orthodoxy 18 
 
 The Doctor — Dead Sets— Spoilt Child— Enlightening and Fashion- 
 able Announcement — Infant Xero — Little Demonstrative Pro- 
 noun—Religionism — Behind the Age — Chaos. 
 
 CHAPTER IV.— Orthodoxy of Education 27 
 
 The Beautiful— Tatf — Heart-Stratas— First Grief— Secret Draw- 
 ings — Banter — Fashionable Education — The Famous Yogey — 
 Rival Creeds— Antiquity of Matter— Configurations— St. Fechin 
 — St- Joseph's Breath— Obliging Sunbeam — Angelic Feathers — 
 Delicious Cruelty— Points of Beauty — Endless "Ologies" — Occult 
 Sciences — Consequences — Sports — Fashionable Phraseology — 
 Feminine Costume — Hints — Desecration — Punch Hardened — 
 Pre-Bloomerism - Street Cries— Queries — Progress — The Book — 
 Father Xewman — Self- Knowledge — Theology — Deductions. 
 
 CHAPTEE V.— Mrs. Leslie and her Mission 42 
 
 Eeformation — Opposition — Indifference — "Moved" — Saved — The 
 First Missionary— Seed Sowing — Exclusive Curate — The Contrast 
 — Goody Horton. 
 
 CHAPTEE VI. — As Every-day Llfe-Phase 49 
 
 Spring— Hast Thou ?— Warning — Invitation— Incipient Madness — 
 Song— Tears — Fruit and Flowers — Qaenchles* Memory — Sym- 
 
 179 
 
II CONTENTS. 
 
 pathy — First Impressions- -Holy Ground— "The Story without 
 an End"— Effect of it — Madness— Crushed Daisy— Old Man's 
 Sorrow — Going Home— As the Flowers Fade — Light in the 
 Valley— Manly Tears. 
 
 CHAPTER VII.— "Who is this Courtenafe ?" 62 
 
 Death-Sealed Impression— Doctois Differ— A Live Conscience — 
 Lucre-moved, not Spirit-moved — Arguments — Fathers, but no 
 Light — Pomp and Vanity Proof — Spinster Speculations— Last 
 Appeal — Jottings— " In, but not off y — Directed — All will be 
 Well — A Question for Pome. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII.— "What Does the Babbler Say— Preaching and 
 
 Preaching?" y 73 
 
 Mobility of Intellect — Master Passion — Non-Supersoitions — The 
 Creed of Protestants — A Newer Pathos— Not Heart Poetry — 
 Angel's Poetry — Sneering Inquiry — Disparaged Tidings— Mothers 
 and Daughters — A Wee Seed — Vestal Fire — Fact or Two — 
 Frigid Zeal — Man-made Distinctions — Brotherhood— Below and 
 Above — Small Slip — Stately Palm— Moral Electricity. 
 
 CHAPTER IX.— Heterodoxy 83 
 
 Fine Doings — Highly Suggestive — Slow Magistrate — Beautiful 
 Wisdom— Following the Master — The Invitation— Familiar Chat. 
 
 — Vapidity — Subtle Musings- 
 
 CHAPTER X.— Love's First Dawn 90 
 
 May and December — Leave-Giving— Open and Closed — Gathering 
 
 — Overture— Touched— The Great Sympathy— Pleading — Faith- 
 ful -r- A Man — Gossip — Fake— Eyeless — Hundred-Tongued — 
 Precious Thoughts — Men at Best. 
 
 CHAPTER XI— SmallTalk 99 
 
 An Old-Fashioned Evening — Music — Hindoo Idea— Spirit Language 
 — Ariosto— Indian Taste — Unmoved— Luther — Cures— Charles the 
 Ninth — Saul — Singular Oriental Custom — Moorish Custom— Per- 
 sian Belief— The Tub Hero— Intangible Links — Moore— Dr. Sher- 
 lock—The '• Reverie" — Learned Shimei— Fable — Fast and Slow — 
 Love Glance— Omens — Partings and No Partings— Narrow Stream 
 — Softened — Little Embarrassments— " Ex-Catbedra"— First Walk 
 
 — "Gimlet Holes"— Byrou — False Worship — Mungo Park — 
 Phantom Sounds — Witnesses — Sorrowless — Natural Magic — Not a 
 Match Maker. 
 
 CHAPTER XII.— More Decided Heterodoxy. 116 
 
 Verb to Love— Sensitive Plant— Childhood — Pets— Craving— Selfish 
 Boy — "Foolish Questions "—Corrosive Acid — First Idol — "Too 
 Young to Die" — Useless Call — The Voice— Angels Singing — Why? 
 
 — Quiet Strength— A Night — Adverse Current— The Cry— The 
 Rescue— The Wish— The Rude Rending — Deficient — Stirred — 
 Doubts — Other Teaching — A Motive — Great Idolatry — Love of the 
 Quiet Heart— Love as it Should Be — Starless — Warning — Wailing 
 — Compassionate One. 
 
CONTENTS Hi 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CHAPTER XIII.— A Tcexxn-g Point. 123 
 
 Spleen Tent — Anti-Progression— Cutting off with a Shilli n g— Con* 
 trasts — Parental Grandeur— Despondency— Li^bt at Eventide — 
 Scandal — Knaves — Huge Passion — Plotting — Success — Profane 
 Question — A Shower— Domestic Xiobes — Self — Kelentings. 
 
 CHAPTER XIT.— IyFDnmsniAL LiwiEES 131 
 
 Elucidation— Pettifogging— ''Anything for Money "— Friendship by 
 Troy Weight— Toadyism — Confiding Anticipations — Speculation- 
 Chum Chaffing— Xot a Zantippe — Eamily Man — Badly Reared — 
 Bitter for Sweet — Thought Hiding — TaileyraBd — Spurious Charity 
 — Weak Whyom — Honble- Preface— Pace Course— Birds of Prey- 
 Sacrifices to Unknown Gods— Trumpet Messages— Vituperation— 
 "In Everybody's Mouth"— Practical Joke — Overruled — The Call 
 — Threadbare — Crestfallen — Every Arrow has its Aim — Honoured 
 Cheque — Hard Heart— Enlarged Editions. 
 
 CHAPTER XV.— Progression .. 142 
 
 Affection with Limitations— Intolerance — Doubt's Castle — Rev. W. 
 G. Lewis— "World Lights— " Prince of Dreamers"' — Tht Aristo- 
 cracy — Thinker — Bigotry — Flying through the World — Imperial 
 W; ; — Inspired Epitome — Agreeing to Differ — Churches — 
 
 Plain Inscription — Expiring Prejudice — The World's Pharos— 
 Su - I" — ''So am I Xot"— Social Enlightenm :- 
 
 — Enchanted Ground — Divided House — Well Pleaded— Grand 
 Crusade— Sea-Side Calamity — " Man the Life Boat P 
 
 CHAPTER XVI.— Am Event that mat ez Sripped 
 
 A_:: '.man — Mr. Flint — Miss Envynina— A Demure Curate — 
 
 Mts. Overstock — Genius of Discord— Barns— Sheridan— Powerful 
 Barricade — Heart's New Quest — Attraction — Ice Palace — Can you 
 Pick the Stone up ?— " Ho^ Very Singular !"— The Great Mystery 
 
 — Delicate Perceptions — Refined Friendship — A Vjsitor — The 
 Declaration — Love's Sweet Fancies— Chained Current— "My Bride" 
 — Heart Dreams — Love's Catalogue — Passing Fashions— The King 
 of Trees — Reaping Time. 
 
 CHAFEEB XVIL— Asking Consent. 
 
 Parish Business— Common-place Man's Study— Precious Things — 
 Poor-law Guardian, an excessive Fiction — Hopeless Looks — Dis- 
 solving Pearls— Passing Love's Rubicon— Plain Speaking — Soft 
 Answers — " When I was a Boy"— Poor Irish Lady— Darkness — 
 Doctor's '■ Tongue Wagging"— Xot Dean Swift — Minds or no 
 Minds— Bevy of Thinkers— Mental Liberry — Classical Coachman — 
 Setentifie Footman — Birth-right— Taxes — Wise Men — Twilight 
 Glimmer— Kno fledge Key — Truth Unintended— Xoble Mission- 
 Final Appeal — Final Reply— Acting a Sermon— Behind the Age- 
 Before the Age — Taken Down — Blushing Man — Mutual Kaleido- 
 scope—Sir R- de Coverly — Careless Cook— Sad and Silent — Hope 
 and her Mission. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII.— Gloom. 188 
 
 Suspense— Xo Counsellor — Flower Preaching — Mystery— Unequal 
 Contests— Love and Pride— Starry Mantle — More Saspense — FU 
 Report — Alone— The Gate of Tears— Forebodings— " Let me be 
 Loved''— Phantom Sounds — Pollok — Shapeless Undefined. 
 
IV CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CHAPTER XIX— Revelations 192 
 
 Self reliant Mrs. St. George— Weary Child— Gold Fever— Thrice 
 Armed — Social Leprosy — Grappling — Selfishness — Little Seed — 
 Exacting Idol — Polluted Shrines — High and Low — Commiseration 
 of Bigotry — Stirring up — Question for Everybody— No Sympathy — 
 The Confessional— Poison Distilleries — Moral Cemeteries — Spas- 
 modic Pity— The Call — Judges of the Areopagus — Better Days — 
 Robbery — Tetzel— Iron Hands — Self-immolation- The -Alternative 
 — Dream of Huss. 
 
 CHAPTER XX.— Cause and Effect 206 
 
 Once upon a Time — Managing Wife — Love without Leave — ".Nice 
 new Curate"— His Predecessor— Protestant Pay for Romish Work 
 — Figment of Dark Ages — Point Blank — Averted Infliction — 
 Another Gospel— Lady Jane Grey and the Poor Mouse — Prefer- 
 ment— Rejected— Proteus Development — A Voluntary Guinea — 
 Infant Orthodoxy — A Liberal— Good Son — "Working for Xothing — 
 Courtesy Below Zero — Heartless Game — Xo Parasite Plant— Fine 
 Pedigree — "Or" and "Ar" — Moral Courage — Modest Husband- 
 Title Sacrificed — Dress Makers, Milliners— Lady " High Wrangler" 
 — Breach in Good Manners — Retaliation. 
 
 CHAPTER XXL— More Preaching and Preaching— More Cause 
 
 and Effect 216 
 
 " Sound"— "Powerful Clever"— Theological Stubble— Our old Sim. 
 plicity— Story without an End — Soft Love-Song — Watching Angels 
 — Benighted Kings and Piophets — The Xame — Soul Dwarfing — 
 Good from Evil — At the Top — Is it a Myth ?— Lame Architect — 
 Silver- footed Dame — "Sense and Science" — Ariadne's Crown — 
 Brazen Puppy— Promethean Fire — Triumph in Reserve — Social 
 Progress — Rivalry — Refractory — "Rights and Feelings, indeed !" — 
 French Tact — Sham Visits — A Profitable Family — Feminine Diplo- 
 macy — Bonnets! — "Bringing to Reason" — "Very Pretty" — Un- 
 answerable Argument — Secrets in Every Mansion — "My Banker" 
 — Awful Sacrifices ! — Unique Announcement — " That Blessed 
 Messopotamy !" — Madame's Idiosyncrasy — Practical Astronomy — 
 Three-fold Triumph— Carriage Smiles — "Standing Out" — Com- 
 mercial Thunderbolt— Cleared Vision — Gas-light "Bargains" — 
 Small Scylla and Charybdis — Resignation— Magic Key— Humanity 
 Debased — Xo Half Measures— Rights rightly Balanced— Perfect 
 Success. 
 
 CHAPTER XXH — Ready? 237 
 
 Gone? — Stern Strife — Worsted —To-morrow— Lesson — Smitten — 
 Gentle Kindness — Xot Mourning Fashionably — "Last Home" — 
 Loving Arm — As a Dream — Entire Confidence — Strange— Clearing 
 — Wearing Out — Old Church-yard — Coarse Missive — Heart's Mis- 
 givings— Back to the Centre— Quiet Struggles — Meeting — Forgotten 
 Resolves — Unsealed Fountain — Richest Dowry — A Quiet Wedding 
 —Xot at "St. George's" — Lace — Results— Xo " Honour among 
 Thieves," 
 
 CHAPTER XXHL— Pastor and his Antagonisms— Wife and her 
 
 Duties 252 
 
 '' Melancholy of Profound Joy" — Light — Safe Stand-Point — Stepping 
 
CONTEXTS. V 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Softlv— Always Cheerful— Hydra Heads— Religionists— "We 
 don't Care"— Yes, you do ! —"Mrs. Beecher Stowe— Lash Manufac- 
 tory—Fashionable Shambles— Judicial anti-Judicial — Pearls in tiie 
 Heart's Coronet— Jewelled Chalice— Mexican Salute— Listening 
 Mother -Yes and Xo— "Silly Questions"— The First Seed Sower 
 — Little Heart. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV.— Daisy and heb Stoby 
 
 Why Judge? — Title Sacrificed— Contrast— Drowning Sorrow— Xew 
 Flower — Ministering Angel— Unblenching Front — Child once More 
 —Child of the Lodge— Good Grandfather— Lady Emily— Dame's 
 Education— Rustic Enlightenment— Flower-Love- -'Prentice Child 
 " Legreeism "— Old Man's Fears— High-born Sympathy— Removal 
 —Favourite— Prudent Earl— Studying in the Olden Time— 
 " Useful"— Promising— Affinity of Taste— Dangerous Ground- 
 Change — Lost Protector— Sorry Advice— Xot " Paved with Gold" 
 
 — Respectable — Yearly Sacrifices — Horrible Disclosures — Sad 
 Alternative — "Lent"— Meeting — Finesse— Choice Pair, and their 
 " Chit Chat"— Preaching to Live— False Shame— Honied Poison — 
 Vain Yearnings— "Worked to Death — Bishop of Oxford— Mr. 
 Grainger— Misused Influence — Lying Principal— Back to Toil- 
 Plotting—" To be Done Immediately I"— Fifteen Thousand Slain— 
 Mr. S. C. Hall— Brutal Threat— Bearing Up— Another Meeting- 
 Spontaneous Indignation — " By Law" — Bishop of London — Rev. 
 W. Landels— Madame Grinder— Blessed Slumber— Snare Weaving 
 —At the Railway— Closing Round— Stolen Garb — Another Change 
 
 - "Together" — Trusting Heart -Mock Marriage— Golden Age- 
 Change Again — Counsellor— Satanic— Meekly by his Side — The 
 Opera — Letter — Prim?. Donna — Gracious Te^rs — Home — Poor 
 Daisy .'—Virtuous Looking — Maudlin Frivolity — Virtue Lane— 
 Piety-Pitch— Retribution— The Pet Child — Crashed Daisies— 
 " Cain, where u thy Brother ?'— Pony- A Future Meeting— "If." 
 
 CHAPTER XXV.-Oxe m the Glop.y Wobld 317 
 
 Sinless Sleep — Vista? — Unhinging — Solemn Stars— Startled— Astro- 
 logy—" There I"— Storm— Old Song— Soothed— Beauty Bird— Old 
 Woman's " Saw"— Thoughts of Angels— Let it Go !"— Beauty 
 Bird Flown Away — Cleansing Fount — Seeing Light ill Light— 
 The Fulfilled Mission.— Xursery Lares— Little Tongue. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVL— Light a2td Daekness. 334 
 
 Triflers— Whited Sepulchres— Lord R. Grosvenor— The Invitation- 
 Chamber of Horrors— Hypocrisy— Fairy Land — Fairy Forms— Sad 
 Bride— Summons in the Ball Room— Petted Profligacy— Link be- 
 tween the Chamber of Horrors and Fairy .Land— One-sided Retri- 
 bution—Mockery—Mournful Casuistry— The End— "Lay her 
 Down Tenderly !"— The Drowned Baby— " ; Tis only a Dress- 
 maker !"— Sleep on Xow — The Age— Speedily Avenged— They v:iU 
 Think— Rev. J. McConnel Hussey— A Sacred Band— Pearl of 
 Bays— Watchman !— Look Up !— Love Song— The Voice. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII.— Populae 'Delusions 351 
 
 Silent Time — War — Hedley Vicars —Peace — More Delusions — 
 
 A 
 
VI CONTENTS. 
 
 Chained Dove — s ' Slumbered and Slept" — Dove Free — Queen 
 Pomare. 
 
 CHAPTER XXYI1I,— Life, Death, and Resurrection in the 
 
 Kensington Potteries 
 
 Noiseless Wheels — Children and Pigs — Startling ! — Starvation — 
 " No OneCares" — Hirelings — Gracious Symptoms— Unfortunate — 
 Adamic Excuse — Pet Footman— Arguing and Deducing — Con- 
 clusions "Easy Then." — Questioning— Not Knowing — Broken 
 Vows— Responsibility— A Little Love — A Great Change— Bigotry 
 Again — Examples — Wish and the "Way. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX.— "Change 13 o'er the Spirit of the Times.".,. 
 Petted Piety — Universal Bogie — Workhouse — Wanted ! Right Men 
 — Another Mercy Angel — Impatience — Promise. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX.— The Battle Fought and Won. Two in the 
 
 Glory World 
 
 Discontent — Why should We ?— Courtenaye Again— Moves in the 
 Right Direction — Useless Characters — Stunted Charities — Pious 
 Show Rooms — Success— Envy — Effete Attacks — Truth versus Error 
 
 — Progression — Light Eclipsed — Glory Stream— Archbishop 1 sher 
 
 — Wife's Idolatry — Being Spent— "Xo Hope" — Spare Him! — 
 Strong as Death— Love — The Children— Music Stealing — Memory 
 Breasting the Flood— "What was it for?"— Soft Pillow— The 
 Whisper — Glory ! Glory ! Estimated— The Broken Heart. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI.— Alone with the Dead 
 
 First Hours of Widowhood — Mysterious Repose— The Cloud— The 
 Quenched Light — The Vision— Child's Prayer— Reply — Convictions 
 —Interpretations— Resigned — Rest on the Loving Heart. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIL— Dreams of Earth and Dreams of Heaven. ... 
 Shadow Land — School Days — A Heart Equator— Metamorphosis — 
 Onward !— All-conquering Time — A Mimic Voyage— Starlight — 
 iEolian Murmurs — Unravelled Web — Spirit Fingers— Pearly Gates 
 — Peers of Heaven— Eternal Coronals— Triumphant Music — Xone 
 may Learn that Song. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXHI.—" Another Life-phase— Governess." 
 
 The Brave Heart — Cromwell's Mother— Delicate Tribute— Xoble 
 Resolve — Lessons — Sunshine Friends — Poor Little May ! — Other 
 Mamma — Serpent Training — Feeling Morality — Blots — Take 
 Heed ! — Spiritual Mathematics — Clouds Without Water — Five 
 Feet Ten of Self- Sufficiency— Sister of Mercy— Tittle Tattle- 
 Silent Struggles — Old Love — The Lone Harp — Child Love — • 
 Straightened — Salutary— Costly Love — False— Insulting Adver- 
 tisements — Labelling a Dying Govern es3— Home Again— Degree 
 of Coarseness— Humble Friend — Hard Worked, HI Paid — Idolatry 
 of Memory — Perhaps Needed. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXTV.— Taste and Feeling. What they are Not.... 
 Nftw Phase— Apples of Gold— Cloak Department— Bitter Disap- 
 
 Pi 
 
CONTESTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 mtment— Privileged— " Neither Work nor Device"— Novel 
 Thanksgiving— " Think of these Things;" — Time Frittering — 
 Startling ! — New Vistas — Patronized Abominations — Where 
 are our Watchmen ?— Mother's Favorite — The Holy Element — 
 The Gathering. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV.-SOTTser 435 
 
 Bleeding Memory — Silencing Bitter Words — Quiet Boy — Bight 
 Kind — Coarse Uncle — Champion of the Dead — Bearing Up — 
 Mungo Park's Moss— Hard Lesson — Leafy June— Other Scenes — 
 White-lipped Childhood— Rev. W. M'Call- Last Appeal— Come ! 
 Do Come ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI.-" Com, foe all Things ake Ready." 445 
 
 Vain Hopes— Lord Sillydale— Noble Time-Killers—" Suppose"— 
 Fates of Nations— Mothers Again /—The Contrast — One Wish — 
 T Vearines«— Last Look— "They Come"— Falling Asleep, 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 As the notes of the wild bird trilling forth its love, will 
 sometimes steal into the heart, sweeping its mysterious springs 
 and awakening gracious thoughts and sympathies that had re- 
 mained unstirred by a burst of harmony from many well-tuned 
 instruments, so this Household Story may win its way into 
 domestic " nooks and crannies " where works of far exceeding 
 merit and loftier pretensions, may fail to gain admission ; and 
 inasmuch as the ''battle is not always to the strong," through 
 its instrumentality aspirations may be enkindled, and desires 
 aroused, heretofore lulled to repose by the murmurs of Pros- 
 perity's pleasant and seducing song. May it be so ! To this 
 end was it written and launched with trembling hand on the 
 inconstant tide of popular favour — 
 
 " The child of many prayers ;" 
 
 and if but one woman should be brought, in a startled spirit, to 
 
 i*k herself, " Is it I P it will not have been sent forth in vain. 
 
 Perhaps the writer may be permitted to say, that, unlike 
 
II PREFACE. 
 
 the immortal Dreamer, whose "joy did make him write, " it was 
 when 
 
 "The leaves of memory seemed to make 
 A mournful rustling in the dark," 
 
 that her heart -yearnings embodied themselves in these pages ; 
 and while hopefully scattering a small seed-plot on one hand ? 
 nothing is arrogated on the other for originality : they appeal 
 less to the intellect than to the heart. To the literary epicure, 
 therefore, revelling in a measured and majestic flow of thought, 
 or to the reading dissipationist, seeking to satisfy an unhealthy 
 idealism in records of startling adventures by " flood and field,'*' 
 the story will have no charms ; but to those whose pulses 
 quicken with a diviner thrill at the name of u home," it may be 
 acceptable. 
 
 Endorse, as these latter days do, the complaint of the Preacher- 
 King — " there is nothing new under the sun,'*' and " of making 
 books there is no end," probably it may be less needful to pro- 
 duce " things new" than to re-produce the old with a fresher 
 pathos. Many, if not all, of the subjects introduced into these 
 pages have been dealt with — and dealt with infinitely better, 
 though in other forms — before, hence, any relevant sentiments 
 calculated to further the object in view, that adjusted into their 
 diversified mosaic, have been freely appropriated, and the same 
 is hereby acknowledged. In the chronos there are some in- 
 accuracies, the "why and wherefore" will be self-suggestive to 
 the indulgent reader ; but as they do not affect the fact and 
 incident, they are unimportant, and are merely reverted to in 
 the hope of deprecating, on this head, at least, that which has 
 daunted many a braver heart, — " the licensed critic's ban, and 
 the unlicensed critic's sneer." 
 
PREFACE. Ill 
 
 It may be necessary to state, that it was the desire and inten- 
 tion of the writer to hare published early in the summer of 1S57 ; 
 but an adverse insetting current overbore the will, and in 
 re-preparing the volume for the press, some alterations, suited 
 to passing events, might have been beneficially introduced ; 
 but as any variation in the scaffolding would have left the 
 building unaltered, and as friends to whom the idea was sug- 
 gested dissented therefrom, it is before the public " with all its 
 imperfections." 
 
 Meanwhile, circumstances have transpired that induce a 
 willing superscription to the principles advocated. Revolution 
 has raised its Medusa head, and like a fissured mountain of 
 terror, streaming with the life-current of our beautiful and brave, 
 and reeking with that most ruthless slaughter on the records ei 
 crime, since " a voice was heard in Ramah," India has leapt up 
 before the world's shrinking eye. That twin-spirit of the lamented 
 Hedley Vicars, and leader of " saints who never got drunk, and 
 were never beaten," the heroic Havelock, has laid his life on 
 his country's altar, showing how a soldier of the Cross may " do 
 and suffer, dignifying" death : and moreover, oh, melancholy fact ! 
 — citing the august tribunal of Omnipotence before the palsied 
 impotenceof a worm — men who have grown into somethingbeneath 
 the dignifying immunities of Christianity have been heard to pur, 
 with modern Pilate-development, the sneering enquiry, " What is 
 truth?" and have imputed India's atrocities to the Gospel 
 of Peace, and to the Religion of Love ! As well may they brand 
 the sun for the miasma that pollutes the air in the metropolis 
 of England, destroying infancy in the intolerable agonies of 
 suffocation, and poisoning starving women by inches, deep down 
 in its pestilent burrows of that direful trinity, ignorance, drunken- 
 ness, and pauperism. Alas! Is it only in India that hum; . 
 
IV PREFACE. 
 
 beings perish horribly in " Black Holes ? " only in red Cawnpoor 
 that the onslaught might have been made with the piercing 
 battle-cry, "Remember the women ! Remember the babies ! " 
 No, it is here, at our very doors, in the "Eye of Christianity." 
 Here, amid Boards of Health, Committees of Management, Poor- 
 Law Guardians, Governors, and other excessive fictions. 
 Here, in this land of Bibles, with its vaunted civilization, 
 its eighteen thousand pulpits ; and while we justly execrate 
 the crimes of the "godless Hindoo," dealing in stern justice with 
 ts eye that never wept," forget we not our own short-comings?" 
 Hear we no mysterious spirit-whisper "Is it well with thyself?' 
 Because we have been suddenly started from our slumber on 
 beds of roses, blooming on the crater of a volcano, by an eruption 
 of some of its fiery lava, think we not " small things" of the 
 deadly stream pouring down our streets ! 
 
 Blessed be God, 'mid the rolling thunder of the death-dealing 
 cannon, and the shrieks of slaughtered infancy, England has at 
 last learnt the lesson she could not learn in the glitter of gold or 
 in the blaze of Kooh-i-noors — the terrible lesson, every letter of 
 which is graven with a pen of petrified tears, dipped in the life- 
 blood of her children — that she was not given one hundred and 
 fifty millions of immortal spirits to coin their flesh and blood, 
 souls and bodies, into rupees ; nor — more afraid of Truth 
 than of Error — to send her Christian sons to bow down to that 
 triumphal car of the Prince of Darkness, dripping with human 
 gore — the Juggernaut; but to broadcast over their serried 
 masses, from the cold brow of the imperial Himalaya to the sultry 
 savannas of the Carnatic, that wondrous Love-Story which first 
 came whispered from angel lips, over a lost world, into woman's 
 ear. — " Peace on earth, good-will to man !" 
 
 That one remedy for India's wrong — and springing out of them, 
 
PREFACE. T 
 
 her crimes — the Gospel ; and even for her there is light streaking, 
 which, though like the day orb, rises from a crimson bed, like 
 him, is destined to roll on to a cloudless noon ; while the wild and 
 sobbing billows shall yet melt on the shores of Time in softest 
 music, murmuring Eternity's key-note, Salvation*. 
 
 Yes, surely has that mournful but majestic cartoon for all 
 aees in the Indian tra°;edv — the Christian catechist be- 
 leagured by savages yelling and thirsting for his blood, and the 
 --boy officer,"* with his seraph spirit and his Hon heart, he- 
 roically exhorting his brother to hold fast the Cross, and not 
 -- deny the Lord Jesus" — done its work, or " have they yet 
 suffered such things in vain ?" 
 
 Xav, high over the carnage rose the insulted name of the 
 world's Redeemer, --mighty to save," mighty to the down- 
 throwing of Satan's strongholds, as the Gospel blast sweeps 
 over them, even as of old the walls of Jericho crumbled into 
 dust ; and the shade of the sainted Henry Martyn shall yet 
 see a realization of his prophetic utterance on his last 
 Sabbath at Cawnpoor : — " yonder stream of the Ganges will one 
 dav roll through tracts adorned with Christian churches, culti- 
 vated by Christian husbandmen, and the holy hymn shall be 
 heard beneath the shade of the tamarind ; if we believe the 
 prophets, the scenes jhat time shall unfold, though surpassing 
 fable, are yet true ; all things are working together to bring 
 about that day." Hence, 
 
 " Out of evil ever educing good." 
 All things ! the last death-sob of those illustrious 
 
 * "The Martyr of Allahabad," Ensign Arthur Marcus Hill Cheek, of 
 the Sixth Native Bengal Infantry. 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 men — Lawrence, Havelock, Hodson, and a sacred band — 
 whose memory will never grow old, and from whose graves shall 
 issue a stream of light and glory till the Reaping Angel shall 
 lift up his hand and swear " that time shall be no longer." 
 
 All things ! the anguish-cry of slaughtered childhood, 
 
 with its sunny locks dabbled in its own innocent life-blood, and 
 the shrieks of tortured mothers — the weary days, and watching 
 nights of many a Rachel, weeping for her children, and " refusing 
 to be comforted because they are not." 
 
 All things ! the "vacant place/' the homestead for 
 
 ever darkened by the quenching of one love-lamp that flooded it 
 with light and gladness, while from the widow's couch goes up 
 her yearning sigh, " I shall go to him, but he shall not return 
 to me." 
 
 All things ! the loud battle-cry and the muttered curse 
 
 of manhood, as, avenging the ruthless deeds, rivers of gore 
 fertilized the "coral strand," where yet shall bloom "the Rose 
 of Sharon and the Lily of the Valley." 
 
 And yet, once more ! the great grief-spasm which seized 
 
 the nation's heart, as the winds wailed out the mournful tragedy ; 
 and, humbled beneath the stroke she had herself evoked, Britain 
 knelt in her mighty sorrow, while the Destroying Angel swept bv 
 as of old over the city of the Nile, and " there was no house 
 wherein there was not one dead/' 
 
 Oh ! what myriad living monuments may and ought to be 
 raised to the memory of all those lamented ones, if, instead of 
 the stately marble, swelling with high heroic life — which though 
 it be vast as Britain's loss, towering as the tomb of Cheops, shall 
 yet be buried under the drifting sands of Time, or destroyed by 
 the mute finger of Decay — -temples for Eternity were built up, 
 and she testified that she embodied in her practice the grand and 
 
PREFACE. Vll 
 
 tender genius of Christianity, exemplified by its Founder in His 
 life of suffering and death of ignominy : — 
 
 "Father, forgive them, for they know not what 
 
 THEY DO!" 
 
 What a glorious " Sacred to the Memory !" 
 
 But they to whom these pages are dedicated, have thev no 
 "Sacred to the Memory" to raise ? While their high-hearted 
 countrymen have their testimonial fund for the " most brilliant 
 soldier in the army "* will not the women of England also have 
 their fund inscribed "Sacred to the memory of the 
 slaughtered ^YoMEN," and will they not find "room to deny 
 themselves," and make some sacrifice to lay a willing holocaust on 
 this mournful sarcophagus V* 
 
 Shall the i l benighted " Hindoo mother, 
 
 "Heir of the self-same heritage, 
 Child of the self-same God," 
 
 see that their sisters, born and reared amid the grand human- 
 izing teachings of the Gospel, have " shut up their compassion," 
 and care for none of these things ? Shall all the sufferings of 
 those untaught women and children in India — and who knows 
 what those sufferings have been in that red carnage, unalleviated 
 by the hope of an "eternal weight of glory," which sustained 
 and energized the hearts of our own beloved countrywomen in 
 
 * " I followed your noble husband to the grave myself, in order to mark 
 in the most public manner my regret and esteem for the most brilliant 
 soldier under my command, and one whom I was proud to call my friend." 
 — Eulogy of the Commander-in-Chief on the heroic Major Hodson. Vide 
 "Twelve Years of a Soldier's Life in India/' p. 373, 
 
Till PREFACE. 
 
 their great tribulation, — awaken no thrill of symyathy in the 
 breasts of Britain's daughters? Surely not only should they 
 have their fund, but every child should have one, inscribed — 
 
 "Sacred'to the memory of the slaughtered Babies," 
 from which they may learn gracious lessons of self-denial, 
 gratitude, and sympathy. The link between young energy, 
 hungering for scope and action, is feeling, and here would be a 
 wide area for its spread. 
 
 But it has been publicly proclaimed, on high authority* 
 that "we want a new race of wives and mothers ; the women 
 of the present day are not the women for their times." And a 
 leading periodical characterises the women of England as "mere 
 centres of frivolous, vapid self-sufficiency ;" while through everv 
 grade of the Press, down to the noxious publications blurting 
 their slime over all that is 
 
 " Right, and True, and Beautiful," 
 
 they seem the targets for every arrow. Nor is this all : scarcely 
 is there a stripling who does not attempt playing at self-glorifi- 
 cation, by contrasting ,€ the prodigious follies of the weakatr 
 sex," as if, in imitation of the Hottentots, who prove their arrival 
 at manhood by beating their mothers, our fresh youth exhibited 
 a more enlightened evolvement of humanity by lashing the whole 
 of womankind for the faults of the few ; and exacting but a 
 small share of credulity to realize the belief that, as it was in the 
 days of old Athens, so it will soon be in our own, " easier to find 
 a god than a man." 
 
 Without too closely examining the sort of short-hand process 
 
 • The Earl of Shaftesbury. 
 
PREFACE. IX 
 
 which has suddenly changed the old-fashioned "angel of life," 
 at whose feet all there was about man sans peur et sans reproche 
 was laid, into the root-form from which all our " social evils " 
 and national shortcomings spring ; — without commenting on 
 daily details of the " stronger " sex taking the law into their 
 own hands in various ways, inflicting on woman gentlemanly 
 moral wounds, or savage bodily wounds from which humanity 
 turns siekened, let it be said, that if there is but a grain of justice 
 in the reproaches so unsparingly leveled at them, is it not time 
 they roused themselves, and lived down these ground-gaining 
 accusations ? Are they content to remain in the rear of " what- 
 soever things are lovely and of good report" — willing to diminish 
 the grandeur, and narrow the sphere, of their agency? "Will 
 they voluntarily ignore the position assigned them by their 
 Creator, u a help meet for man" — and not man as he now is, 
 at best a fragment of glory — but as he radiated from 
 
 " The Hand that rolled the stars along," 
 
 every nerve instinct with beatific life, and all glorious in the 
 moral image of his God, he walked amid the flowers of 
 a virgin world, eye to eye with Omnipotence? Will they — 
 it is repeated, — voluntarily ignore this position, and stand 
 by in apathetic callousness while all the good is done without 
 them ? Rather will they not form a Sacred Legion, and come 
 at once to the work wailing to be done at their very doors? 
 as helps meet for these trumpet-tongued times, the weapons of 
 their warfare all baptized in the soft on-flowing Jordan of Sym- 
 pathy, wiping away, once and for ever, the accusation " none of 
 these things move" her. — Ay! it must be so. The mother-of-pearl 
 chariot — rSocial Progression — though built " after the pattern of 
 
X PREFACE. 
 
 heavenly things," advances slowly, lagging until women harness 
 themselves to its shafts ; and no time so fitting as to-day. 
 To-day ! while the " enemy is coming in like a flood, 5 ' and the 
 strong cry goes up to God's bright Throne against the 
 cruel sacrifices of the idol Fashion, in this Christian land, from 
 its leading thoroughfares, its Penitentiaries, its Hospitals, its 
 Blind Asylums, its Mad-Houses, and from the polluted River as 
 its waters gurgle down the death-sob of many a " waif of 
 womanhood," fleeing from the iron hands of the oppressor to 
 guilt, and from thence to despair and suicide ! Shall these 
 deeds be any longer imputed to the " thoughtlessness of 
 woman" — " to be traced directly or indirectly to the influence of 
 women in the higher and genteel classes of society ?" * Is it true 
 they " care for none of these things" and are unwilling to live down 
 such accusations by coming to the <l labour of love ?" 
 
 " Oh ! gently, by a thousand things 
 That o'er our spirits pass, 
 
 The summons to the Right and True 
 And Beautiful is made." 
 
 But there is another event, which had not transpired when the 
 writer was pleading for unity among all sections of Protestants 
 in the crusade slowly but surely going on against Ignorance and 
 its first-born, Crime ; Sin, and its twin-sister, Sorrow, — an event 
 that has rolled with a piercing power into the hearts of tens of 
 thousands, awakening strange misgivings and gloomy thoughts. 
 By. an unseemly display of power which the age has outgrown, 
 
 * Bishop of Oxford. 
 
PREFACE, 51 
 
 an attempt had not been made to clip the free "wing of the 
 Gospel, and cut off a river of the Water of Life — the only 
 river powerful enough to cleanse our moral Augeans ; hence 
 nullifying the Divine command, — " Go into the highways, and 
 compel them to come in." 
 
 "There lacketh, even in the hearts of God's people, more 
 reverence for the teaching of God's Word than at this day 
 appeareth among us," said the Prince of Dreamers. If there 
 were more of this reverence for the Word of God, and less for 
 the teachings of man, there would be more love for souls 
 burnt into our hearts — more of the touching, comprehensive 
 sympathy for the sorrows and sufferings of humanity, that was 
 "the burden and passion" of the Redeemer's earthly existence. 
 We should rejoice to see sinners brought in from the " highways," 
 
 " And hush no faltering voice that woos 
 The sin-sad wanderer to the fold." 
 
 Time is too precious to be frittered away in considerings and 
 discussions, while souls are perishing ; contending for the shadow, 
 and losing the substance. 
 
 Should not all who " name the only Name given, by which 
 they can be saved," unite to fan the flame of Sympathy? It 
 is the quenching of this sacred fire that endangers the common 
 weal, and 
 
 " "Woe to our country, and woe to our cause" 
 when its ashes alone shall bestrew her altars ! 
 
 There is also another boding cloud, warning all Protestants to 
 jealously watch the results of the issue of the contest so lately pend- 
 
Xll PREFACE. 
 
 ing between civil and religious liberty and Anglo-Popery. Surely it 
 is time for " Judah to cease vexing Ephraim, and Ephraim to 
 cease envying Judah," and each to unite in defence of the Truth as 
 revealed in the Book whose teachings men are arrogantly trying 
 to set aside, thereby retarding the solemn, grand peace-march of 
 Evangelization. Surely, at a time when the cry of spiritual 
 hunger is pealing through the land, and the great mercy-waves 
 are rolling over other sections of the church militant, flooding 
 them with almost Pentecostal glory, it is melancholy to see men 
 professing the Protestant Faith resuscitating superstitious cere- 
 monies, and practises, that are swelling the ranks of Popery from 
 our pulpits, and homesteads — thereby aiding its attempts to 
 re-invest with power that master-piece of Priestcraft-machinery 
 for chaining the soul, a crushed, wringing, drivelling slave to 
 its brazen car — re-forging fetters melted off in " the winding sheet 
 of flame" from whence our Martyr- forefathers soared to glory. 
 
 Ay, and still more lamentable, to see those "sent on an 
 angel's mission, and endued with an angel's powers," encou- 
 raging practices calculated emphatically to stain and humble 
 womankind, out-rooting from her heart "whatsoever things are 
 pure, whatsoever things are lovely ;" and by countenancing 
 designing ones " who creep into houses, leading captive" those 
 laden with influence, helping to sanguify the galvanized corpse of 
 "the Mother of Abominations drunk with the blood of 
 the saints." 
 
 Thanks be to God ! the flag still waves over the ark of Pro- 
 testantism as — uninjured by the black squalls of Popery, the 
 driving mists of Anglo-Popery, or the dead calm of half-hearted 
 Evangelism — she rides majestically on the "great Red Sea" of 
 redeeming love towards the Eternal Ararat ; and though, may be 7 
 
PREFACE; Sill 
 
 that flag has been pierced by the bullets of the arch enemy, while 
 near twice ten thousand of its craven-hearted " watch" slum- 
 bered and slept, it is flying still ! Flying still ! — nailed to the 
 mast ! 
 
 Unity is the very forecast and secret of success, the focus 
 to which it converges. Now is the time for Protestants to throw 
 the " unrent robe" over their minor differences, and imitate the 
 policy of wise old heathen States, by suspending their internal 
 disputes, and concentrating their forces against the common 
 adversary, whether as an "Angel of Light," with his primeval 
 subtlety, he comes trailing over "Hath God said?" and, 
 pointing to the polluting Confessional ; whether, " making him- 
 self God," he keeps idolatrous state enthroned on hecatombs of 
 sacrificed souls ; whether, as a " roaring lion," he comes devour- 
 ing in our Moloch temples of business; or, as the "Prince of 
 Darkness" he gulphs down, in very agony of gluttony, myriad 
 immortal spirits in our licensed seething cauldrons of crime: 
 now is the moment for Protestants to unite, and, girding on 
 the two-edged sword, go forth mailed Paladins of the Great 
 King, manfully aggressing the foul Usurper's sway. 
 
 Nor is the issue of the contest doubtful ; for, though clouds 
 
 may envelope the battle-plain, and friend from foe be scarcely 
 
 known; though many may," fear as they enter into the cloud," 
 
 yet spirit-voices are all around, shouting u Victory ! Victory, for 
 
 1 lie must reign till He has put all His enemies under His feet.'" 
 
 Possibly, by reverting to the events in India, the writer may 
 be charged with being out of date, but may not a thoughtful 
 consideration of passing events reverse that imputation, for 
 surely warnings from history can scarce be ever untimely ; or, it 
 may be suggested, that wounds partially cauterized by Time may 
 
 A* 
 
XIV PREFACE. 
 
 be re-opened, and deeply would she deplore such a result ; but 
 she ventures to think otherwise. To the real sorrower there is 
 no such thing as forgetfulness, bereavement being the crucible 
 ever refining and meetening the heart for its hereafter " weight 
 of glory ;" while to those who have " slightly healed over the 
 hurt of the daughter of the people, crying peace ! peace ! when 
 there was no peace," India should ever stand out a beacon, cast- 
 ing a lurid glow on the warning — i( go and sin no more, lest a 
 worse thing come upon thee.'" Let us remember, too, that 
 though, by God's mercy, revolution has been crushed, the war 
 is not over. The battle against the Usurper of His fair domain 
 is only just commenced, and ill would it become Britain, with the 
 poean of thanksgiving warm and fresh upon her lip, to hush, in 
 the shout of prosperity, or silence in the chink of gold, the 
 trumpet-call ever echoing from the battlements of the Sapphire 
 City — Be wise to-day ! 
 
 Furthermore, with the hymn of praise still lingering in our 
 midst, and with the dire possibility of being Press-driven or Party- 
 plunged into another war, to which all the voices of the Past 
 point proclaiming, Touch not the accursed thing," it ill becomes 
 Britain to be scantily doling forth her thousands to help on the 
 blessed advance of the Prince of Peace, and yet be ready to pour 
 millions, when, at the nod of the Prince of Darkness, she 
 shall " let slip the dogs of war." Ah ! if she would deal even- 
 handed' only, how different may be her fate ! or, had she " con- 
 sidered these things" of yore, from what might she have been 
 spared in the East ! 
 
 In conclusion, the writer has only to express her best 
 thanks to those gentlemen who kindly furnished her with facts 
 for the following pages j and to express the hope that she shall 
 
PREFACE. XV 
 
 be pardoned, if, in dealing with them, she has ventured to call 
 black black, and white white, and to put sweet for sweet, and 
 bitter for bitter. 
 
 Jnne 1859. 
 
ERRATA. 
 
 Page. Line. 
 
 for woman read womanly. 
 „ Livings read Livingsmore. 
 „ ventures read ventured. 
 „ 'tis read ft ». 
 „ unbelieving read unfeeling. 
 „ wfow read awe?. 
 ,, %fo read little. 
 ,, concentration read conservation. 
 ,, read 0/\ 
 ,, dSress read dress a/^i fai& 
 „ sew; read few. 
 „ volocity read velocity. 
 „ Me Aus read fo ffttis. 
 „ o/;e;j5 ep/ucA read o^ens o/z which. 
 ,, eye a read eye for a. 
 ,, omit the word " being. 13 
 for husband read husbands. 
 
 course read coarse. 
 
 see read seem. 
 
 o read to. 
 
 matter read matters. 
 omit " to seem." 
 
 Ah read 0/j. 
 initiative read imitative. 
 
 pith read pitch. 
 for freezes read or itmen it freezes. 
 
 synonomous read synonymous. 
 
 That keeps read keeping, 
 
 woman read women. 
 
 fatigue take up read fatigue she would take up. 
 
 Mary read J7a?/. 
 
 belief read sentiment. 
 
 heart read heart's. 
 
 11 
 
 . 36 
 
 22 
 
 19 
 
 35 
 
 35 
 
 40 
 
 24 
 
 43 
 
 27 
 
 56 
 
 7 
 
 60 
 
 10 
 
 112 
 
 24 
 
 113 
 
 11 
 
 120 
 
 35 
 
 120 
 
 36 
 
 126 
 
 15 
 
 148 
 
 32 
 
 163 
 
 25 
 
 107 
 
 41 
 
 235 
 
 2L 
 
 269 
 
 6 1 
 
 286 
 
 15 
 
 322 
 
 13 
 
 333 
 
 11 
 
 
 10 
 
 364 
 
 last line 
 
 371 
 
 18 
 
 379 
 
 19 
 
 381 
 
 37 
 
 411 
 
 26 f 
 
 430 
 
 18 
 
 431 
 
 2 
 
 431 
 
 29 
 
 435 
 
 26 
 
 436 
 
 16 
 
 412 
 
 4 
 
 446 
 
 1 
 

 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 gTothet. 
 
 " Hark ! the whispering angels say, 
 Sister spirit, come away." 
 
 Slowly the lids of the " world's great eye" lifted their °-lory- 
 fringe, and earth broke into joyous reviviscence as the lino-erin°- 
 night- shadows fled away. 
 
 Majestic and dazzling the regal orb arose, smiling on the dant 
 clouds till they glowed as messengers of fire, winging their" way 
 over ocean and mountain peak, over forest and glen : he kissed 
 away the tear trembling at the young flower's heart, and it raised 
 its gladsome head, forgetful of the long u night of weeping" that 
 had followed since its gentle breast pillowed his last faint quiver- 
 ing ray. _ 
 
 Creation welcomed the Day King's return, and with mvriad 
 voices pa?aned a holocaust of praise to its Author ; but these 
 outgoings of nature's joy were all unheeded by one who was soon 
 to exchange the alternating lights of time for that fair city where 
 they need no sun to shine in it, for " there is no night there." 
 
 11 My darling !" whispered a sad, soft voice, and the speaker 
 bent her wasted cheek close to the flushed brow of a young eirl 
 at her side, passing her thin hand lingeringly over its polished 
 surface, as if loth to break her short repose. — ' ; my child ! it is 
 
 B 
 
Z A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 time to rise ;" and as the tones fell on the quick ear of the startled 
 sleeper she sprung from her pillow, anxiously asking, 
 
 " What ? my own mother ! What ?" 
 
 " Nothing ! nothing, my May !" soothingly replied the same 
 sad voice. " Don't look so frightened ! I was afraid you would 
 over-sleep yourself, and be late at work ; perhaps scolded, too, 
 and so I woke you. There — there ! — you are not frightened 
 now, darling !" caressingly continued the mother, as she kissed 
 the white cheek of her child. 
 
 "I am not frightened, now I hear your voice again, dear mo- 
 ther," replied the fair girl. " I was dreaming — Oh, such a sad 
 dream !" and she pressed her hand on her lids, as if still striving 
 to shut out its imagery. 
 
 " You must not suffer a dream to distress you, my dear child," 
 gently remarked the mother. "You were over-fatigued last 
 night, and your sleep has been troubled and broken, but you will 
 soon forget it all in the glad daylight. Draw back the curtain," 
 she continued, " and let us look once more together on the 
 bright and blessed sunshine." 
 
 With an unsteady hand May drew aside the blind, shading the 
 small apartment which presented nothing to pamper the eye of 
 taste and luxury save scrupulous cleanliness, and a few flowers 
 whose odour had been a ministering angel in that weary night- 
 watch, and into its midst streamed rays of golden glory, throwing 
 their arrow-like beams on the lowly couch of the speaker, upon 
 whose features, still beautiful in the lingering light of youth, 
 " passing away" was but too plainly written. 
 
 Gazing eagerly on the joyous outer world, as if feeling it was 
 her "last long look," the fading mother sighed deeply; then 
 turning to the wistful watcher at her side, said with unutterable 
 tenderness, " My own darling child, may the orphan's God watch 
 
 over your young life when I "' She stopped suddenly, as 
 
 if dreading to quench the hope-ray in the anxious eye resting on 
 her, leaving unfinished the words trembling on her lips, — " am 
 gone." 
 
 Interpreting but too truly that mournful pause, the poor girl 
 nestled her graceful head closer to her mother's breast, and, look- 
 ing imploringly into her face, exclaimed in broken accents, "Dear, 
 dear mother ! you look better this morning, indeed you do ! Oh, 
 do not give way to sad anticipations, for our sakes ! Your voice 
 is stronger, too ! I am sure you will get well, now the long dark 
 
MOTHER. 3 
 
 days are gone, and the warm Spring come." Then, twining her 
 arms with a leal and loving clasp around the faded form beside 
 her, as if that frail hold could ward off the blow uplifted to crush, 
 and leave her alone in the hard world that had dealt so wolfishly 
 with the precious one to whose breast she clung, May wept con- 
 vulsively. 
 
 " ' Let not your heart be troubled]" softly whispered the fading 
 mother, " can you not trust me in the loving hands that were 
 torn and cut with the piercing nails for me, my child ? Will not 
 all be well while we listen to the faithful Promiser, ' I will never 
 leave thee, nor forsake thee ? ' " 
 
 " I know it ! I know it, mother, dear," was the submissive 
 reply ; but how can I let you go ? Who will care for us, and 
 
 love us, and comfort us, when you are gone ? Oh ! if God " 
 
 Tears stifled her utterance, and the alone response to their moving 
 eloquence was a thin finger pointing to the page of a well-worn 
 Bible, on which was traced with a quenchless love-ray, — " as 
 one whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort thee." 
 
 Then came a hush of spirit, broken only by the half-crushed 
 sob wrung from a child-heart quailing beneath its bending weight 
 of sorrow ; the subdued listener bowed meekly over the sacred 
 Volume, and when next her head was raised, both brow and lip 
 spoke of repose on the " Rock of Ages ;" and as she met the eye 
 of her mother, all full of solemn trust, she felt they had both 
 rested under the mercy-droppings of the Cross, and that bitter as 
 the parting would be to her, that chastened spirit was more meet 
 for a home with "the just made perfect," than for this sin- 
 stained earth. 
 
 Having gathered strength, the waning mother continued, — 
 " God bless and abundantly reward you, my child, for all you 
 have been to me — a cup full of comfort ; and He will, oh ! yes, 
 He will ! — I have proved the faithfulness of His promises ; — and 
 I thank Him for bringing you to the foot of the Cross before the 
 dark days came. Take all your griefs and wants to Jesus, my 
 darling ; He was ' a man of sorrows,' and bends a pitying ear to 
 the orphan's cry." 
 
 ' ; I do, mother, I do !" sobbed May, straining her mother closer 
 and closer. 
 
 " Yes, I know you do, darling ; and that thought softens the 
 
 pang of " 
 
 "Oh, don't! please don't say that, dear mother! I 
 
 B2 
 
4 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 cannot, cannot bear to hear you talk of leaving us," entreated 
 May. 
 
 " But, my child, I am sure you will suffer me to say a few more 
 words, now that I feel I have strength enough left. I may not be 
 able to converse with you when you return from your work to 
 night. TVhen I am gone, do not mourn as ' those who have no 
 hope.' It is but for a short time that we shall be parted : we 
 shall meet again, it may be very soon. Yes," she continued, 
 -with kindling eye and in a firmer voice, u we shall all meet where 
 there is no more weariness, nor pain, nor crying, for ' God will 
 wipe all tears from all faces.'' Oh, my tender child !" and she 
 past her hand lovingly over the rich wavy hair curtaining the 
 moistened eye fixed on her, "we shall all meet again soon." 
 Then, pointing upward, she seemed like an embodied inspiration as 
 she solemnly added, iil and there shall be no more death.'' Write 
 as soon as you can to your uncle ; he may be kind to you when 
 I am gone ; I hope so : I never injured him, nor did your pre- 
 cious father." She paused a moment ; then continued, in a firmer 
 tone, " You must be poor little Edward's mother now — a very 
 young mother," and she smiled faintly, " but he will not be a 
 great care — he is a gentle, loving boy. ' God will temper the 
 wind to my shorn lambs.' " 
 
 May spoke not, but the heaving of her young breast told of 
 the spirit-storm within. 
 
 Again the mother broke the silence, " I have been a sad 
 trouble to you, my May — a very helpless child ;" and once more 
 the wan smile played momentarily over her features, lighting 
 them with a mournful beauty, like the fitful radiance of a 
 broken moon-ray on a statue. " But I" 
 
 "Darling, darling mother !" interrupted May, " don't say so ! 
 It was sweeter to work for you, than to dream of glad homes, 
 where happy children never worked ; and if you get well, and I 
 am sure God will not take you away from us yet, I will work 
 harder than ever. Oh ! mother, dear, try, try for our sakes to 
 get well, we cannot live without you !" 
 
 "My times are in His hands!" was the softly whispered 
 response ; " can you not trust me there my child ? you have 
 often, when kneeling at my side, prayed ' Thy will be done,' and 
 now, will you not. for poor little Edward's and my sake, 
 strive to . . . 
 
 And I heard a voice out of heaven saying unto me, behold the taber- 
 
MOTHER, 
 
 nacle of God is with men, and He -will dwell among them. : and they shall 
 be His people, and God himself shall be with them, and be their 
 God.' — ' And God shall wipe away cdl tears from all faces : and there 
 shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall 
 there be any more pain, for the former things are past away' ' 
 
 These snatches from that sorrow's lullaby for the world-weary 
 through all ages, the twenty-first of Revelations, were uttered in 
 a clear, rich" child- voice, and fell on the hearts of the listeners 
 like some wandering strain caught from the soft peace anthem 
 of the golden city, borne earthward by one of its bright spirits 
 on a mercy mission ; and never did they distil deeper comfort. 
 They were the last her boy had read to his mother ere he sought 
 his floor-made bed beside her restless couch ; and that mysterious 
 agency which faithfully resuscitates long departed realities, 
 arraying them vividly before the soul's eye, had stamped them 
 on the fly-leaf of his memory ; and when for awhile the material 
 lay in the embrace of " death's lesser mystery," the quenchless 
 spirit embodied itself in " the blessed speech of heaven." 
 
 A look full of peace came over the mother's face, a light 
 reflected from the glory-land shone within her eye, and when 
 next she spoke her voice had lost its heart-quiver : she had 
 already drank of the M river whose streams make glad the city 
 of God," and been refreshed. She had already eaten of the 
 
 " tree whose leaves are for the healing of the nations," and been 
 
 strengthened for 
 
 11 The last weariness— the final strife." 
 
 And while this mysterious " lighting up before death," this fitful 
 gleam in life's flickering lamp thrilled poor May's heart with 
 renewed hope, she felt that her next waking up would be 
 " where the inhabitants shall no more say I am sick." .... 
 
 "And now, I must leave you, my own mother, 
 
 or I shall be late ; oh ! how I wish we closed at seven, then I 
 could sit all the evening at your side and work. Will you 
 promise me," looking fondly and anxiously into her mother's 
 face, "not to do any embroidery to-day? I am sure I shall have 
 plenty of time to finish it before Mrs. Smith requires it ; and 
 now that you are really better, you will take care of yourself, 
 won't you, dear mother, for our sakes ?" Then she once more 
 
b A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 clung to that faithful breast, and bade farewell in loving kisses 
 on the cheek that would have deceived a less sanguine beholder, 
 — it wore a flush so mockingly life-like, just as the moss on the 
 stem of some lonely forest flower, grows richer and brighter as 
 decay is busy at its heart. 
 
 Slowly the graceful form uplifts itself from the mother's 
 yearning love-clasp, and with looks of wistful, mournful 
 tenderness, they part, never to meet in the wide world again — 
 child to her daily toil : mother, to her home on high. 
 
 "What unto shall be likened that one fragment of pristine 
 perfection, untrailed by the serpent Sin — a mother's love ? 
 
 It is theunsetting sun of the social system, whose beams evolve 
 in gracious harmony all the affections that make heaven-like the 
 atmosphere of the human heart. 
 
 It is an unchangeable priesthood, whose oracles are written on 
 the fleshly tables of the heart with a pen of petrified light. 
 
 It is the dominion of a queen, on which the sun never sets. 
 
 "What can separate from a mother's love ? Shall deformity, 
 or disease? Shall waywardness or rebellion? Shall guilt or 
 despair? Nay, in all these things it is " more than conqueror :" 
 it has tracked the wanderer, with tears and prayers, through all 
 the dark, joyless paths of crime to the scaffold's foot, where 
 Justice, with stern, unweeping eye, stands clamouring for blood ; 
 and when all the world has forsaken, " save He who died for 
 him, and she who gave him birth," that mother-love flashes out a 
 blessed ray of moral beauty, at once redeeming and glorifying 
 humanity. 
 
 And what unto shall we liken a mother's influence ? 
 
 The broad eye of Time closes weary over the problem, and 
 opens in Eternity ! 
 
 £ 
 
 
THE RESPECTABLE POOR AND THEIR ON DIT. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 %\t Respectable foot anb their oh tit 
 
 ". That which is wanted to hold together the bursting bands of the different 
 classes of this country, is not kindness but sympathy."— Judge Talfourd. 
 
 "Good mornin'! Mrs. Carter, I thought as how I would jest 
 run in and ask for your poor lady before I begins washin'" ex- 
 claimed kind-hearted neighbour Greenham, ominously folding her 
 arms in an unmistakeable gossip fashion. 
 
 " But poorly, but poorly I be sorry to say ; she don't mend 
 much, poor thing," responded the interrogated. 
 
 " I met the young lady jest now, as I was a fetchin' some 
 water ; and when I as't her how her mother was, she looked so 
 sweet, and smiled so as she thanked me for enquirin', that any- 
 body may see that she's a real lady, and got none of them 
 redickless hairs as people a little above their fellow-creturs 
 gives theirselves now-a-days ; so thinks I to myself as soon as I 
 have took Tom his breakfast, I'll step in and ask Mrs. Carter 
 about 'em," continued Mrs. Greenham. 
 
 "You be quite right ; Miss Courtenaye is a very sweet young 
 lady," replied her friend, "and as good as good can be; she deserves 
 a better fate of it than she's got, poor thing ; workin' and slavin' 
 all ' day, and often all night too for that matter as she do, ill or 
 well ; but there, no wonder she's such a s'perior young lady, 
 brought up by a mother like her's !" 
 
 " Dear me ; how much I do feel for 'em !" remarked the kind 
 Greenham. 
 
 " I never in all my born days saw such a patient cretur as 
 Mrs. Courtenaye ; there she sits, day after clay teaching her 
 dear little boy his edication, and sowin', and sowin' that nasty 
 'broidery as they calls it, with her long white fingers ; I declare 
 
8 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 it makes my blood boil to think as how she's got rich relations as 
 won't help her !" exclaimed Mrs. Carter, much moved. 
 
 " Dear, mercy me !" remarked Mrs. Greenham (who, poor 
 soul, seemed deplorably ignorant of the natural history of rich 
 relations)! "have they got friends w r ell off, and won't they help 
 'em?" 
 
 " Not they !" jerked out Mrs. Carter. 
 
 " But don't they never come to see 'em ?" enquired her 
 neighbour. 
 
 "To be sure not ; wdien people's down in the world their 
 friends never goes down to see 'em, depend upon that," empha- 
 sised Mrs. Carter. "It says in the Proverbs as how a friend is 
 the med'cine of life ; and a precious bitter med'cine too, some 
 folks finds it, or I be much mistook !" 
 
 " Well, all I can say is they ought to be ashamed o' theirselves, 
 that they had," indignantly responded neighbour Greenham ; 
 " they be worse than the eathens ; but, dear a mercy me ! don't 
 never the clergyman nor his wife, nor any ladies come to visit 
 your poor sick lady ?" 
 
 " Not a bit of it ; and one good thing is she don't want any of 
 their talk — she could teach them, and fjive ver ' Christian ladies,' 
 as they calls theirselves, a few hints how to live, ay, and how to 
 die too. She's a good deal too good for this unfeeling world." 
 
 This response on the part of our worthy acquaintance, Mrs. 
 Carter, was highly suggestive, both in tone and substance, that 
 some over-strained chord in her memory had been touched and 
 vibrated harshly ; though all was unnoticed by her more simple 
 neighbour, who went on, unconsciously — 
 
 "Well, dear a mercy me ! To be sure it do seem strange as 
 how nobody seems to care for 'em, when they been used to bet- 
 ter days. P'raps," and Mrs. Greenham lowered her voice to sus- 
 picion pitch, "P'raps, Mrs. Carter, they be " but as 
 
 she met the eye of that worthy woman, there was something ia 
 its expression that prevented her giving vent to the ideas the 
 whispered ' p'raps,' possibly was intended to pioneer ; and she 
 merely asked in a confiding tone, " Be you quite shore that they 
 be what they seems to be ? There is a good deal of imposterin' 
 about !" 
 
 " Quite sure ! " said Mrs. Carter laconically ; looking brimful 
 of knowledge she evidently had no intention of making public 
 through the medium of her less well-informed friend : who by no 
 
THE RESPECTABLE POOR AM) THEIR ON DIT. 9 
 
 means daunted by the curt and suggestive reply to her question, 
 all confidential as it was, continued, — 
 
 " Be shore, I do say 'tis most unnatural of her friends and re- 
 lations. I'm so sorry to see that good young cretur all winds 
 and weathers, early and late, comin' and goin' — it makes my 
 heart hacke for 'em. Be shore, it must be terrible times with 'em, 
 with pervisions and everything so dear. As I was a sayin' to 
 Tom this mornin", I recollects when we could always get a bit of 
 meat for the poor children on Sundays ; but now, we never sees a 
 bit or morsel, from one week's end to another. Why even 
 bacon's a hawful price. I hears 'tis more than a shillin' a 
 pound !"* 
 
 " They be indeed shockin' times, as you say," corroborated 
 friend Carter. " What a price they got tea and sugar up to ! and 
 mercy goodness, what stuff they do sell for tea ! I declare if it 
 aint jest like hold leaves dried in the sun, and rolled and sold to 
 we poor for shoo-schong ! And how they keeps the breadf up 
 too ! God gives us good 'arvests, and the millers or the govern- 
 ment, be shore, I hardly know which, gives us dear bread ; every- 
 bodv said as how the Roosian war made food so hawful scarce, 
 but now the war be over things don't seem a bit better. We don't 
 seem to have got much by it ; for my part I can't think what the 
 world's a comin' to. Some folks with so much money they don't 
 know what to do with it, and 'tothers of the same flesh and blood 
 dvin' of starvation." 
 
 "Tis very dreadful to think of," chimed in friend Greenham. 
 
 "Dreadful enough! I tell ye what missus," rejoined Carter, 
 in a hyper-radicalish sort of tone ; " nobody upon earth, parsons 
 and all, shall never make me believe, even if they was to swear to 
 it, that God ever intended things to be as thev be. Whv the 
 very robbers and murderers in the jails be better fed and cared 
 for than the poor ; as if people could help their poverty, and every- 
 body wouldn't be rich if they could. No, no !" she went on 
 with increasing energy in utterance, " I never will believe it, if 
 all the bishops in England was to swear to it !" 
 
 "No more wouldent I," hammered in Mrs. Greenham; and the 
 flippancy with which these benighted women talked of the "reve- 
 rend fathers," clearly showed that they had imbibed no whole- 
 some fear of the same; much less the spirit of that tolerant decree 
 
 * A fact when this was written, in the early part of 1857. 
 f Bread was eighteen and twenty pence per eight pound loaf. 
 
10 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 of the Council of Constance, " If any one presume to say that a 
 bishop may have his failings let him be accursed." 
 
 "Do you think that your poor lady up stairs gets enough to 
 eat ?" asked Greenham, after a due pause. 
 
 "Yes," answered Carter, " I think she gets food enough, for 
 she's the littlest eater I ever saw in all my born days. Miss Courte- 
 naye takes good care of that. If it would'nt do yer heart good to 
 see the dear young thing coax her to eat— sometimes a little bit of 
 fresh fruit that she's got cheap, by goin' in the mornin,' as soon 
 as its light, up to some gardens somebody told her about, or 
 p'raps a bit of cake she's bought on her way from work ; but 
 I do really believe that poor Mrs. Courtenaye often savs she 
 can't eat, or has had enough, that her boy may have some, 
 and not be stinted, as he's a growin' fast and wants plenty of 
 food, for he isn't over strong neither ; how can he be, poor 
 child ! " 
 
 "What a beautiful young feller he is," remarked Greenham. 
 " He looks jest of all the world like a young lord ! He walks so 
 upright, and his face is ecksacly like a old picture of St. John 
 when he was a little boy, grandmother had hung up over her 
 mantel-shelf. I did love to stand and look at that picture. It 
 made me think of angels, and a place where there couldn't be no 
 sin." 
 
 "Do you think, then," inquired Mrs. Carter, with something 
 between a sneer and a smile of contempt, "that all lords walks 
 upright, and looks like angels, and lives in places where there 
 aint no sin?" 
 
 "I baint quite so hignorant as that comes to," snapped out 
 Greenham.. " I knows well enough there be a good many bad 
 lords, as don't pay their debts, and drinks, and tells lies, and 
 gambols away their money, and that baint no example to we poor 
 people ; but I knows there be a good many real good uns too, 
 Mrs. Carter, and ladies beside, so you needn't think me soredick- 
 less as that ! " 
 
 " Be shore I never meant to hurt yer feelings, neighbour 
 Greenham," soothingly replied her friend. " I have learnt of my 
 poor sick lodger not to be so terrible put out whenever anybody 
 contradicted me, so don't be upset." 
 
 "I baint upset, bless yer soul," said Mrs. Greenham, with 
 a good-humoured smile coming over her flushed cheek ; " but, 
 as I was a savin' iest now — let me see, whereabouts was I? 
 
THE RESPECTABLE POOR AXD THEIR ON DIT. 11 
 
 ! I recollects — I was goin' to ast ye if you thinks your poor 
 sick lady will ever get well again ? " 
 
 " She'll never leave this house till she's carried out," gravely 
 answered Mrs. Carter, "depend upon that ; there's no mistakm* 
 the look of consumption ; for though 'tis so deceitful that even 
 when they as loves 'em best be cheating theirselves that they be 
 gettin' better, death walks in at the door without rappin'. No, 
 no! there's no mistakin' that look. She won't never get well — 
 her very face says 'I shan't be long here ;' and I thinks poor 
 Miss Courtenaye was a thinkin' so too, this mornin', for she was 
 a sobbin' fit to break her heart." 
 
 " Poor young thing !" sighed the kind neighbour, in a tone of 
 real feeling ; " I pities her with all my soul ; and if I can be any 
 use, night or day, in settin' up with her mother, I'll come and 
 welcome ; so send for me at any time, as she may go on lingering 
 a good while, for decline is dyin' by inches ; and as you said jest 
 now, there is always a somethin' partickler in the looks of it. I 
 recollects as if 'twas but yesterday, when first our young sister 
 Susan came up from the country, she was as plump and rosy-like a 
 girl as ever you set eyes upon ; but after she had been pent up a few 
 weeks in them dreadful stiflin' millindary rooms — work, work, 
 work, day and night, she got jest the look you was a speakin' 
 about ; and then she got so terrible weak, we was forced to take 
 her to Dr. Smith, and he said he wasn't no stranger to these 
 kinds of cases. He had plenty of them, when the season was 
 over, hundreds of poor dyin' dressmakers' cases.* He was very 
 kind, and spoke very feelin'lv* about these shockin' goin's on, 
 but he couldn't do nothin' for her; she got weaker and weaker, 
 one day better, and the next worser, 'till at last she died so sud- 
 dently that poor old mother couldn't get here in time tosee her alive. 
 She was the fav'rite of us all, bein' the youngest ; but I shan't 
 never forget how mother took on. She laid her grey hairs down 
 upon the dead face of poor little Sue, a-moanin' fit to break her 
 heart, because they had e work'd her pet lamb to death,' as 
 she us't to call her." 
 
 Real tears rilled her woman eye ; and while she hastily wiped 
 
 * Sir James Clarke, physician to Her Majesty, says, " The mode of 
 life of these poor girls (dressmakers' 1 ) is such as no constitution could 
 long bear. A mode of life more completely calculated to destroy 
 human health could scarcely be contrived. I have long been most 
 anxious to rescue these unfortunate girls from the slavery to which they 
 are subjected. —Lord K. Grosvexor. 
 
12 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 them away with the corner of her apron, as if ashamed of dis- 
 playing feeling in her station of life, Mrs. Carter took up the 
 strain, rushing into the space of opportunity, eager to produce 
 another out of the one thousand* parallelisms whose cry goes up to 
 God's bright throne out of the great heart of Christian England. 
 " Poor thing ! poor child ! 'tis very hawful to think of. Her 
 case was very much like that of pretty Mary Gale's, as us't to live 
 uext door to we when we lived in Paddin'ton. She was as fine a 
 gal as ever the sun shined upon when first she went to work at 
 the dressmakin' bis'ness at the West End, but she soon fell off, and 
 got a nasty pain in her side, sittin' stitchin', stitchin', for 
 eighteen hours together ; sometimes all night, and Sundays 
 too ;f and then she couldn't take a long breath, and was forced to 
 get advice from the doctor ; and he told her the foul air^: was a 
 ( killin' her outright, without the shameful late hours as they 
 had to work,' and that it was ' another poor dressmaker's case.' (| 
 That's jest the very words he said, and he told her she must ' lay 
 by ;' but she couldn't do that, she was forced to work, for the 
 tenpence a day that she earnt was all she had to keep her little 
 crippled sister ; and she didn't like to put her into the Union, 
 'cause she read of the bad manner in which they treats 'em there ; 
 and as she was the only one left out of nine, they didn't likebein' 
 separated. Poor hearts ! they were so fond of one another. 
 Well, as I was a savin,' they had been workin' three whole days 
 
 * It is terrible to reflect that, according to the testimony of Dr. Lankester, 
 a thousand lives are annually consumed by it in London alone ; while ten 
 times that number are rendered miserable for the remainder of their ex- 
 istence, through the disease which it engenders. — Bishop op Oxford. 
 
 f In the best-regulated places the hours vary from eighteen to twenty ; 
 in some, however, they are altogether unlimited ; the hands work in many 
 instances the whole of the night, having four, three, or, in some instances, 
 only two hours' sleep. ' Work,' says one witness, ' was carried on till 
 ten and eleven on Sunday morning, and frequently the whole of Sunday.' — 
 The Earl of Shaftesbury. 
 
 X I think this whole subject might come under the consideration of the 
 Metropolis Management Act, and as we have sanitary inspectors to see to 
 the ventilation and cleanliness of public buildings, I do not see why those 
 officers might not have their power extended to enter rooms where human 
 beings are no less confined and exposed to noxious atmospheres. — Dr. 
 Lankesteb. 
 
 || The nature of the suffering is such that an experienced eye can detect 
 the case in a moment — you can tell at once that it is a dressmaker's case. 
 — Dr. Hamilton Roe. 
 
THE RESPECTABLE POOR AND THEIR ON DIT. lo 
 
 and nights* shut up close in a work-room as smelt fearful of gasf 
 and lots of fevered breaths, that at last she got so bad she 
 faintedi away five times runnin', and as they had a power of 
 dresses to make for a flower-show, they made 'em work, able or 
 not ; so they gave her some coffee, as they called it,§ but it 
 didn't revive her ; it got up into her head and made her so 
 wild she didn't know where she was, or what she was adoin'. 
 She got worse, and told 'em that they were ' killin' her soul and 
 body with fire, ■ and that she would go out into the green fields and 
 lay down and die,' and wouldn't stay there to be murdered, that 
 she wouldn't.' So, as they don't care for the poor things when 
 they can't get no more work out of 'em, they let her go in a 
 pourin' rain at twelve o'clock at night, and she was so 'wildered- 
 like she lost her way, and didn't get home to her room till two 
 in the mornin', and when they took her to the hospital the 
 doctor said she was a ' dyin' cretur' as soon as he set eyes on 
 her ; and 'twas true enough, for she only lived two days, and died 
 screamin' out for some cold water to be put on her head, it was 
 all a fire !|| 
 
 "Dear mercy me, can it ever be truef It seems too shocking 
 to think about !" exclaimed Mrs. Greenham, with a look of 
 horror." 
 
 " True enough !" replied Mrs. Carter ; " they says there be 
 
 * One witness stated that she had worked without going to bed from 
 four o'clock on Thursday till half-past ten on Sunday. The meal-hours 
 are very short, and the meals are taken in haste. — The Earl of Shaftes- 
 bury. 
 
 f Nothing, perhaps, has been better established than the fact that 
 sedentary occupations, that want of exercise, and that exposure to impure 
 air and the deadly influence of carbonic acid gas, are the cause of those 
 tremendous diseases which carry off a third of those who die in our popu- 
 lation annually. — Dr. Lankester. 
 
 i Not a night passes but some of these poor sufferers faint at their toil ; 
 and nothing can prove more strongly the cruelty of the system than the 
 fact given in evidence before the Committee of the House of Lords, that 
 though this fainting is of a most deadly kind, it is yet so common and the 
 haste so great, that the poor girls are often left to recover as best they may. 
 
 2 We commenced work as usual at eight o'clock, and went on till 
 between four and five on the following morning. It was near five when 
 we went to our bedrooms. At midnight we had a cup of coffee brought 
 us. I am sure there was something improper put into it to keep us awake, 
 as when we went to bed none of us could sleeep. — From K A Dre$S77iaker's 
 Cage,'' by J. Lilwall, Esq. 
 
 | The multitudes, of both sexes, subjected to this miserable and destruc- 
 
14 A LIFE-LOXG STORY. 
 
 thousands and thousands of these helpless young creturs served 
 like it in the grand millinery and dressmakin' houses, where 
 there's a heap of work to be done for the great folks for their 
 balls and theatres, and hoperas. For my part, I am shore I 
 can't think how ever ladies can wear their beautiful gownds and 
 things from such places, while the poor girls have fainted awav 
 and dropped over them, workin' their lives out as they does. I 
 should think they smelt of death! Wherever can their 
 feeldins' be ? " 
 
 "P'raps the great ladies don't know about it," suggested Mrs. 
 Greenham ; " sure, sure they wouldn't allow such things if they 
 did. However can they go to church and say their prayers in 
 gownds made by dyin' fingers I :% 
 
 Simple-hearted Mrs. Greenht aa ! 
 
 " Xot know it ! not know it !" scornfully ejaculated friend 
 Carter. rt They can't help knowin' it. Isn't these goin's on in 
 everybody's mouth ? My husband told me that George Meeks 
 told him as how he was at Hexeter Hall the other night, and it 
 was cramm'd full of people, and he heard a great lord cry shame 
 upon 'em for wearin' gownds spotted with their sisters' blood."* 
 
 " Bless me! did he tho' I Of course, then, 'tis all true," 
 exclaimed Mrs. Greenham. 
 
 "And," added Carter, "George Meeks said as how the new 
 Bishop of London was there too, and talked a good deal about 
 the sin of people as does such wicked things ; and that he spoke 
 most feelingly of the poor. They seems to think that he's one 
 of the right sort, something like a bishop ought to be, if he goes 
 on as he's begun, and 'tis to be hoped he icill, for 'tis time some- 
 body looked into these shameful goins' on ; and it seems to me 
 
 tive thraldom in and about London alone has been estimated at upwards 
 of 150,000 ! The labour they have to sustain has been described as ex- 
 ceeding in intensity that of any class of workers to be found among any 
 other people on the face of the globe. — V2th Report of the Early Closing 
 Association. 
 
 * Some who, for the sake of being gaily dressed in the fashion, in silks 
 and satins, and all kinds of finery — if, I say. there be some who for such 
 reasons will consent to this suffering, I can only tell you that with your dress 
 you are wearing out human creatures' lives ! There ars blood spots there. 
 That poor young woman, whose weakness should have secured your affection 
 and sympathy, bled for it. The great God will make inquisition one day, 
 and if it be found then that thou hast been indifferent to the sufferings of 
 thy sister, thou shalt not be held guiltless then. — Lord Shaftesbury. 
 
THE RESPECTABLE POOR AND THEIR ON DIT. 15 
 
 that 'tis proper work, for the bishops as got such a power of 
 money, and helps to make all the laws for the poor." 
 
 " P'raps these great ladies got no time to think about these 
 things, as 'tis only poor peoples' sufferins," suggested Mrs. 
 Greenham. who evidently had a good deal of the milk of human 
 kindness in her veins. 
 
 "Perhaps not — more's the pity, as they must find time to die !" 
 jerked out the demonstrative Mrs. Carter. 
 
 " Don't it seem verv strange to you," asked Mrs. Greenham, 
 "that all them wise lords as everybody knows goes to make the 
 laws for the queen, can't make laws to purtect these poor things 
 that be too weak to purtect themselves?"* 
 
 " I quite agrees with you," replied Carter, "what be laws for 
 but to purtect the weak against the strong ? and if them old laws 
 won't do it, the sooner they makes some that can the better ; 
 things can't go on much longer as they be. I couldn't help 
 thinkin' to mvself the other day, when I read out of a piece of the 
 Times that was sent round the butter Johnny bought jest below, 
 about one of the magistrates in the City puttin' a cruel feller into 
 prison with hard labour, for illtreating a poor donkey as couldn't 
 take his own part, that it seem'das if hanimals was of more conse- 
 quence than dressmakers, as the law purtects them !"y 
 
 "Served the cruel wretch right!'' fiercely burst in Mrs. 
 Greenham ; "I can't abear to see dumb creturs as can't speak, or 
 poor children illtreated, do you know ; " and she again lowered her 
 tone to confidence-key : Mariar Salter told nie> " 
 
 "Cruel! cruel! do you call it," very unceremoniously 
 interrupted Mrs. Carter — who, true woman as she was had a little 
 amiable weakness for a gossip, and when she could get a listener, 
 as in the present instance, to her somewhat extravagant ideas, was 
 apt to overstep the Rubicon of good manners, which were 
 evidently not taught for an extra penny a week at the university 
 she took her degrees at, and, something like other masters at 
 debate when contending with the feebler, she was not scrupulous 
 in cutting short an oration whenever she wanted to perpetrate one 
 
 * The power, and jurisdiction of Parliament is so transcendent, and 
 absolute, that it cannot be confined, either for causes or persons, within 
 bounds. ... It can, in short, do anything that is not naturally im- 
 p ssible. — Sir E. Coke. 
 
 f The public good is in nothing more essentially interested than in the 
 protection of every individual's private rights, as modelled by the muni- 
 cipal law. — Blackstone's Commentaries. 
 
16 A LIFE-LONG STOKY. 
 
 herself, — " cruel do you call it I I say 'tis brutal, and the sooner 
 all these things be looked into the better. People, and ladies too 
 calling themselves Christians, encouragin' such dreadful murders; 
 for 'tis nothin' else; why the very blacks would teach 'em 
 better, as never saw a Bible ! It makes my flesh creep to think of 
 all their grandness and luxuries, while their fellow-creturs be 
 dyin' in thousands a slavin' for 'em. I was told t'other day, that 
 not content with blindin' * and killin' the poor young women, the 
 missuses of them great millinary houses where the haristockrasy 
 (Mrs. Carter had not much idea of the euphony of sound) as they 
 be called, haves their tine things made, hires poor little children 
 for a few pence a week to thread all the needles, 'cause the 
 'prentices shouldn't be hindered, and when they gets tired and 
 sleepy, being past their bedtimes at night, they be so tired that 
 they falls off their stools down upon the floor, and then they gets 
 green tea and coffee give to 'em, to rouse 'em up." 
 
 " "Worser and worser still !'' ejaculated Mrs. Greenham, 
 simultaneously elevating her eyes, hands, and voice ; u I can't 
 hardly believe it. Be shore, be shore it can't be true. Be you 
 quite certain, Mrs. Carter?" 
 
 u I don't know no more than I was told," replied Mrs. Carter ; 
 and she looked an embodiment of the words of Scott, — 
 
 " I don't know how the truth may be, 
 I tell the tale as 'twas told to me." 
 
 11 Dear a mercy me !" suddenly exclaimed her auditor, " if 
 there aint ten o'clock ; I had no idear 'twas so late. I really 
 must bid you good mornin' Mrs. Carter, and I wish your poor 
 dear lady better with all my art." 
 
 * Dr. Hodgkin fully confirms this testimony ; and Mr. Dalrymple, of 
 the Ophthalmic Hospital, makes statements of a most painful character. 
 He says that all forms of ocular disease are produced, from 9imple irritation. 
 to complete blindness. Others give more minute details, showing that by 
 continuous work of a fine and minute character, carried on during so many 
 hours of the night by lamp and candlelight, vision is in many cases totally 
 destroyed. Mr. F. Tyrrell, of the Ophthalmic Hospital, relates a case which 
 came under his notice. It was that of a delicate young woman of about 
 seventeen, who had been apprenticed in a dressmaking establishment, and 
 who through excessive work had entirely lost her sight. Dr. Donovan 
 says of some of these persons, that their health and strength are gone, and 
 many of them die of consumption. Dr. £haw and Dr. Johnson declare 
 that these women become unhealthy themselves and transmit disease to 
 their offspring. Another medical gentleman states that no men would work 
 so lonjr with so little rest. 
 
THE RESPECTABLE POOR AND TIIEIE ON DIT. 17 
 
 When this model gossip reached home she found that the fire had 
 followed her example, and "gone out" ; her two little boys, with 
 their shoes pulled off, were paddling about in an artificial lake 
 which they had improvised for the occasion out of the bowl used 
 by their untidy mother for " washing up the breakfast things," 
 which had no business whatever to have been left on the table ; and 
 trifling as these things are in themselves — like the feather, show- 
 ing which way the wind blows — they suggest to a reflective 
 mind that this worthy woman, really kind-hearted and well- 
 meaning too as she was. had much better have been at home 
 looking after her own affairs than commenting on those of her 
 superiors, and censuring conduct and character she evidently did 
 not, and could not understand. 
 
 And now, impatient reader, unlike Mrs. Carter, who it appears 
 belonged to * ; well-informed circles," but was fully determined to 
 keep her knowledge to herself, we will together unrol the scroll 
 containing the history of her " poor lady," as she called Mrs. 
 Courtenaye, and though may be it has been blotted and dimmed 
 with tears, for few are the life-pages bearing not their mournful 
 impress, it is but an every- day tale. 
 
 " He who knows most of heart, knows most of sorrow." 
 
18 A LIFE- LONG STORr. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 j*onietbmg about ©rtftotosg. 
 
 " Religion is not a form, or a creed, or an ecclesiastical system, but a life." 
 
 "What a charming spot !" involuntarily broke from the passer- 
 by, as the eye rested on an elegant mansion, with its bright 
 velvety lawn 'crowning a slightly elevated site in the neighbour- 
 hood of the populous and wealthy town of D . 
 
 " Yes, it is a ' charming spot !' What noble parterres of 
 flowers ! How harmoniously those choice shrubs are grouped ! 
 I wonder who lives there?" 
 
 "Well, then, wonderer, your curiosity shall be gratified ; that 
 u charming spot" is the residence of Dr. Grenville, of whom we 
 have somewhat to say that may interest you; for though "not 
 the rose, he has dwelt with it." 
 
 Dr. Grenville, then— a rich retired physician, who, with one 
 son and daughter, and in possession of a great deal of friendship, 
 extracted from a wide circle who enjoyed his society and 
 "capital dinners," — passed a sort of care-for-nothing, easy-going 
 life, centring all the light and delight radiating from these 
 various foci on himself," as the sun of his social system, from 
 whence he deluded himself into the fond idea they both emanated. 
 
 In his wav he might have passed for a model, too, that 
 excellent doctor, so proper, so unimpeachable, so serenely he moved 
 in the best circles of the above-named fashionable town : he was 
 a world in himself, and a world to himself ; a superior planet 
 whirling in its own orbit, and on its own axis ; but, as there 
 are spots in the sun, so, alas ! a spot darkened this great orb, 
 and it needed not the aid of the Rcsse, or any other telescope, 
 
SOMETHING ABOUT CRTHODOXT. 19 
 
 o discover its nature. In a word, Dr. Grenville's visible defect 
 
 VaS SELFISHNESS. 
 
 " The old story S" did you exclaim, reader \ Perhaps so ; but 
 the doctor had been badly brought up. To continue — there was 
 \ certain polish of manner, an easy self-confidence about him, 
 not often met with in the disciples of the Abernethy school to 
 vhich he belonged, that had stood him in need, may be in the 
 Dlace of professional skill ; which latter had been principally and 
 successfully directed to nervous disorders among patients of the 
 tiigher classes, one of whom, a lady of "considerable rank," left 
 him a legacy of ten thousand pounds. 
 
 People did say— but rumour is scarcely an authority— that the 
 roung physician cured her ladyship's body, but incurably 
 wounded her heart ; and as she was not allowed to bestow her 
 hand with it, she out of revenge left him her fortune. Be that 
 true or false, he was still an especial favourite with the con- 
 fiding sex ; and though at the time he comes out to figure before 
 our readers, " drest in a little brief authority," his register ob- 
 stinately affirmed that he was sixty, he refused positively to own 
 to more than " somewhere about fifty" (the "lords" have little 
 tender weaknesses on the score of age sometimes), an assertion 
 which gained credence through his tall, handsome, Saxon appear- 
 ance ; and with so few gray hairs on his finely-shaped head, it 
 really required no great stretch of charity to believe the register 
 at fault. \Yith such manifold recommendations, including his 
 enviable house and fortune, it will be no matter of surprise that 
 manv gentle spinsters, certain middle-aged young ladies of his 
 locale, unduly anxious to bind their unappropriated hearts in 
 the rosy chains of wedlock, evinced none of the reluctance to take 
 upon themselves the tremendous responsibility felt, or feigned, 
 bv the warlike girl-queen of Sweden, who gravely assured her 
 ministers that in her opinion " it required more courage to get 
 married than to fight a battle." Indeed, they often deplored, 
 almost within the doctor's hearing, " what a pity Dr. Grenville 
 never married again!*' ""What a delightful fireside companion 
 he must be !" One, who always spoke in expletives, pronounced^ 
 it a "physiological phenomenon!" Another, in hysterics of 
 sympathy for the genus, voted it a "decided loss to society!" 
 while a third candidate for connubial honours, coute qui coute, 
 feminine delicacy included, having run through the Indian market 
 unappropriated, and returned duly impressed with the startling 
 
20 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 fact that she had " no time to lose." by looking " unutterable 
 things" endeavoured to convince her meditated victim that she 
 had the finest eyes in the world ; and, failing in this, she had 
 recourse to an indefatigable display of her dainty hands, proudly 
 boasting to him and her other equally am fait friends, that " long 
 ringers were kings' gifts : *' she then tried to conquer with a little 
 German, a good deal of French, and a dash of Hindostanee ; but 
 the steady" man of the good old times thought "one tongue 
 enough for any woman," and was not over careful in hiding his 
 sagacious views. Still, presuming on the stereotyped smile with 
 which the doctor ever greeted her girlish simplicity in getting up 
 an impromptu flirtation with him, and being (by accident) always 
 near him, to be taken to dinner or supper, or anywhere else, as 
 the case might be, she absolutely went so far as to send him, in 
 right earnest, too, a four-leaved shamrock, which he had once 
 jokingly declared he should look upon as " an offer of marriage 
 from either of his charming lady friends who should send it." 
 
 Fancv, dear reader, the waves of be-setting and be-flattering, 
 and be-praising and be-speaking any man, however vain, must be 
 deluged with, ere his instinctive respect for the female character 
 could be drowned in such a flood of impudence ! However, no 
 doubt the doctor had some cogent reason for not resigning his 
 single blessedness ; he probably preferred being his own master 
 once again, for he had twice taken up the gauntlet, ere most men 
 think themselves old enough or wise enough to marry once in 
 these deferring days. Twice, we repeat, had he taken up the 
 hazardous gauntlet. His first wife — though not his first love, 
 self was that — had been the petted and spoiled child of a weak, 
 vapoury mother, and she gave her hand and fortune to the capti- 
 vating voung Esculapian in a delirium tremens of gratitude for the 
 consummate skill he had displayed in the treatment of a "most 
 obstinate case of disorganization of the nervous system," super- 
 induced on an originally supine character by inordinate self- 
 indulgence, want of healthy exercise, and by trashy reading; 
 which derangement developed itself in vague and almost crazy 
 forebodings of misfortunes and trials that never happened, and in 
 sickly fancies of diseases undiscovered in any pharmacopoeia yet 
 invented. So successfully had "the very clever young man" 
 managed to treat these intangible disorders of his future wife 
 that she could scarcely bear him out of her sight, and at length, to 
 the utmost surprise of her numerous acquaintances, the following 
 
SOMETHING ABOUT OETHODOXY. 21 
 
 announcement duly initiated them, not only into the fact itself, 
 but also into the lineal and collateral respectability of the family, 
 which is so often dragged in to cover personal want of it : — 
 
 " Married, on Saturday last, by the very Reverend the Dean 
 of Livingsmore, uncle to the bride, assisted by the Reverend 
 George Henrv Wait, rector of Plurality, cousin of the bride, 
 and bv the Reverend W. W. S. Mist, curate of Plurality, second 
 cousin of the bridegroom, Edward Charles Augustus Grenville, 
 Esq., M.R.C.S., and M.D., to Ellen Sinclaire, only daughter of 
 the late Fitzwilliam Sinclaire, Esq., H. M. Consul of Xagerpoof 
 and Sarah, his wife, niece to Rear- Admiral Macooley, and great 
 great granddaughter to Sir Winslow Winstanley, of Winstay Hall, 
 in the county of Dunnowhere. The interesting bride is the last 
 remaining descendant of the illustrious house of "VYinstanley, col- 
 laterally connected with the Stuarts and Plantagenets." 
 
 The offspring of this union was a son, who for eight years his 
 weak mother — treading in the macadamised path of children- 
 spoiling "to the third and fourth generation" — managed to indulge 
 to the most frightful extent. " Every living soul was put out jest 
 to humour Master Johnny, if he di'd but set up a-crying ! " as 
 his nurse pathetically declared ; and she moreover " verily believed 
 missus would have the top brick of the chimbley pulled down, if 
 he only put hisself into a passion." And truly poor Betty was 
 not far wide of the truth in her estimate of "missus's" disci- 
 pline. Every domestic arrangement had to yield in passive 
 obedience to the whims and caprices of this infant Nero, "when 
 he took it into his head to set up a-crying," for, with the preco- 
 cious instinct of childhood — and few, especially mothers, consider 
 how precocious that is — he soon discovered where his strength 
 lay, and, like a small Samson, used it accordingly. Among 
 other performances, called "Master Johnny's pranks," he insisted 
 on desecrating the costly dining-room carpet, by feeding on it to 
 the death an unfortunate little beast intended to be considered a 
 dog, which would have passed in its grotesque obesity for a prize 
 guinea-pig at any of our yearly displays of fat-in-misery, for rolls of 
 fat curtained the apertures where eyes ought to have been.^ Mem. 
 — There was no society then for preventing cruelty to animals. 
 
 When the unfortunate boy was about ten years of age his 
 mother died, and as he had long outgrown his father's authority, 
 or rather as he never had exercised any over him, he was sent to 
 a grammar school as a preparatory step to a higher educational 
 
22 A LIFE -LONG STORY. 
 
 course, his poor mother having prophesied that this offspring of 
 the "last of the Winstanley's" would make a figure in the world 
 some day. While there he distinguished himself by uncompro- 
 mising tyranny over his hapless juniors, being the most relentless 
 birds'-nester and robber in that small republic ; and by overreach- 
 ing and " doing" the elder boys in a cunning display of adroitness 
 and sharpness while bargaining for the exchange of knives, fishing 
 gear, and other school merchandise, which bade fair promise of 
 realizing the maternal prognostication ; till at length, in an 
 unbridled fit of passion, attempting to strike one of the masters 
 for holding him up in well-deserved execration before the assem- 
 bled forms — having been caught in the act of crucifying a poor 
 frog for his amusement, — he was expelled, covered with disgrace. 
 
 No teaching powerful enough to efface from the boy's soul the 
 tracing f the weak mother hand ! 
 
 No discipline of man's invention could counteract the evil 
 lessons learnt at the mother- side ; hence he grew up selfish, 
 dissipated, godless, and at the age of eighteen, much against the 
 wishes of his great uncle the Very Rev. the Dean of Livings, 
 who intended him to "go into the Church," the doctor articled 
 his son to an eminent London firm, in the vain hope that when 
 he had "sown his wild oats" he would become an honourable 
 and useful member of the legal profession. But no ! the man was 
 a continuation of the boy. Alas ! for this sowing tares, and 
 expecting a harvest of wheat. 
 
 Alas ! for mothers, who with weak hand — ■ 
 
 " Plant the vilest weeds, and fondly trust 
 To gather rarest fruits." 
 
 " What more is required to elevate the character of our youth V 
 demanded Napoleon of Madame Campan. " Mothers !" was the 
 all-inclusive response. 
 
 " When Christian schools were first introduced into India," 
 says a celebrated missionary, " an old chief seized with delight 
 the opportunity of sending the boys of his territory to be 
 instructed, but after fair trial lie did not find the improvement he 
 expected ; he then determined to send all the girls," and in the 
 lapse of years found this "beginning at the right end." 
 
 About eight months after the loss of his wife, for whom he 
 mourned by rule, regulated by the band on his orthodox hat 
 (miners, wide-awakes, and "shocking bad hats" not being in 
 
< >METHE«3 ABOUT ORTHODOXY. 23 
 
 xozne then), the wealthy doctor entered a second time into the 
 marriage speculation with a very charming, sensible woman, 
 whom everybody said he loved most sincerely, and therefore it 
 must be true ; but his happiness was of short duration, for at the 
 end of a year she died, leaving him an infant of hours, and a large 
 fortune to compensate his loss. 
 
 Of this wee creature, who in due time he had baptized by the 
 household name of Mary, he became passionately fond, and 
 though this was natural enough, ill-natured people declared he only 
 doated upon her because she was the "very picture of himself," 
 everybody exclaiming " what a lovely child !" hence her pet 
 name with him was "little Papa ;" and poor "little Papa" bade 
 fair to be as much spoilt in her way as his boy was in his, till 
 once upon a time, when three summers had nearly brightened 
 upon the golden head of the child, dandling her on his knee after 
 dinner as his custom was, he refused to allow her to eat some fruit, 
 tearing it would hurt her, which so much offended the self-will 
 and dignity of "little Papa," that ere the doctor could be aware 
 of her Intention she seized the costly dish on which it lay, and 
 with a flushed cheek dashed it on the ground without even 
 deigning to look towards him, moving across the room, to escape, 
 with the air of a miniature Juno ! 
 
 This impromptu specimen of the early education of his little 
 demonstrative pronoun, gave the elder papa a gentle hint that he 
 was in imminent danger of having a second — neither revised nor 
 corrected — edition of Master Johnny's voluminous works on 
 crockery demolition and furniture destruction, of which he 
 entertained a most vivid shrinking remembrance, having, greatly 
 to his disgust, broken in upon the smooth current of his love for 
 ease and self-indulgence. He therefore wisely determined to place 
 his daughter entirely under the management of a lady in his own 
 house, upon whose judicious care he could confidently repose ; and 
 who for several years fulfilled her duty in the most exemplary 
 way towards the child, which the latter bountifully repaid. 
 
 At the age of nine, Mary lost her estimable friend by marriage ; 
 after which event she was' placed at a fashionable establishment 
 in the neighbourhood of London, where, happily, she never forgot 
 the excellent lessons of her early instructress. Here, then, we 
 will leave her awhile, and return to the doctor ; and if we say 
 rather more of him than may be deemed necessary, the why and 
 wherefore will be found in the effects of which his shallow 
 ideas were the cause. 
 
24 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 With all his placid, easy-going life at the time he is introduced, 
 the elder papa had some peculiarities that he cluug to, and when 
 roused to action could defend with a pertinacity rarely found in 
 people of his stagnant temperament. If there was one thing on 
 earth he hated more than hard claret and homoeopathy, it was 
 the name of an evangelical or dissenter, for he considered them 
 synonymous ; and in the same proportion he idolized the " good 
 dd times and sound orthodoxy." 
 
 In the matter of the "healiug art" may be he entertained some 
 grave doubts as to the wisdom of the ancient practice, when, duly 
 presuming on a diploma " licensed to kill," he would bleed unfor- 
 tunate patients to death's door at the very moment when the 
 "blood, which is the life thereof," was most needed; when, if 
 they were weak, he drugged them weaker ; if requiring nourish- 
 ment he kept them on " slops ;" if, in short, that depopulating 
 system which modern science and skill have so nearly exploded — 
 patients driven "express" from "irritation to inflammation, and 
 from inflammation to mortification." But medgre his doubts, and 
 the entire banishment of the fatal lancet on all occasions by the 
 " quack system," as he sneeringly called the common sense one, he 
 hated and abused it just as virulently, because it savoured of" pro- 
 gression" and "new-fangled notions" —two of his especial bugbears. 
 Of his sound orthodoxy he had no misgiving whatever, the 
 practical part of which consisted in going to church every Sunday 
 morning, driving in the afternoon, sleeping complacently after 
 his seven o'clock dinner, "taking the sacrament" with mechani- 
 cal regularity four times a year, and subscribing one guinea 
 annually towards the charities of the said church, which included 
 repairs and cleaning. These were the bounds of his orthodox 
 horizon, the sacrifices with which he was well pleased, the " deeds" 
 entitling him to an "inheritance incorruptible ;" and he no more 
 doubted their flawlessness than the old man doubted his claim to 
 heaven, who on being inquired of by his pastor as to the safety 
 of his anchorage, replied, "why, sir,haven't I always stuck to my 
 church, and voted for the Blues !" 
 
 True it is that now and then, overruled by the love he 
 bore his daughter, he would wander out of the limits of 
 this circle by consenting to accompany her to the evening 
 service, where her favourite curate, the Rev. Stuart Chant- 
 well preached. Yet, as he "considered the sermon of very 
 little consequence" — and no wonder when such word-shops had 
 superseded the old trumpet preachers whom God enthroned and 
 
SOMXTHTXG ABOUT ORTHODOXY. 
 
 'Id 
 
 honoured— it would be no easy matter to decide whether he con- 
 sidered he had paid his child* or his church the greatest compli- 
 ment by going there. One thing is certain, the demure-looking 
 curate could arrogate not the minutest fraction of the amiable 
 concession to himself, for the doctor invariably— and we blush to 
 record the fact that he was imitated by dozens in this practice — 
 settled himself into a dozing attitude,' after he had nodded oyer 
 the text which his daughter dutifully presented to him, but which 
 he never read, his looks implying " I do not doubt it.'' 
 
 Then as to his theoretical orthodoxy, or rather his stern hatred 
 of any and everything that did not dovetail with his contracted 
 religious views. ' He hated, with pious fervour, the name of an 
 evangelical, a prayer-meeting, or a city missionary ; thought 
 preaching in the open air ought to be put 'down with the same 
 iron hand as chartism and poaching ; viewed every attempt to 
 ameliorate the bodily and spiritual miseries of the poor as 
 " fanatical " and " Quixotic," generally winding up the playful ar- 
 gument into the meshes of which his daughter entangled him, with 
 the ready clencher, " there was none of this nonsense when I 
 was a bov, and we got on well enough '. I can't think, ior my 
 part, what good all this praying, and preaching, and education is 
 to come to, unless to make Vne~poor think themselves wiser and 
 better men than their superiors:" with which finale he usually 
 concluded the svnopsis of his brilliant theory, showing as much 
 satisfaction as if he had solved the greatest moral problem now 
 puzzling profound thinkers, or had liberated the mental Laocoon 
 from its struggles in the coils of the monster Python prejudice. ^ 
 
 It was whispered among the doctor's friends of the^" fast' 
 school that a long time ^elapsed before he could sufficiently 
 etherialize the murkv atmosphere of his pericranium to enable him 
 to see " what good it would do, all this steam and nonsense 
 ruining the countrv," and thereby nerve himself to trust his pre- 
 cious personal res'ponsibility in a railway carriage. That it was 
 years after the introduction'of luciiers before he would either use 
 "or allow them to displace the time-honoured flint and steel in his 
 household ; thev even went so far as to declare that when the pro- 
 babilitv of balloon travelling was mooted in his presence he 
 turned pale and absolutely declared that all these discoveries m 
 which homceopathv and electricity figured conspicuously " were 
 signs that the world was coming 'to an end," and that nothing 
 should ever induce him to countenance in any way such a catas- 
 
26 A LIFE-LON*; STORY. 
 
 trophe. But, however apocryphal these stories may be, he 
 confessed, and gloried in the confession, that he had " never taken 
 the Times into his hands since the day it advocated the repeal of 
 the corn laws" — his Magna Charta of agriculture — a change 
 he looked upon in the light of a second deluge, or a liberal 
 government, both and all equally destructive of social order and 
 respectability. 
 
 "Ah!" exclaims the reader, "evidently the °;ood doctor had 
 not gone with the times." Just so ; and while he would have 
 shrunk from the ridicule he would have encountered, had he made 
 his appearance in public apparelled in the fashion of the last 
 century, he seemed in enviable ignorance that the furniture of his 
 brain was of the most obsolete antiquated description, deluding 
 himself into the belief that — 
 
 " He had forgotten more than most men ever knew." 
 
 Poor self-satisfied man ! Little did he dream that that very 
 brain of his might have foreshadowed the charity child's 
 definition of chaos, to wit : — 
 
 Government Inspector : "Little girl, what is chaos 1 " 
 Little Girl (with a profound curtsy) : " A large lump of 
 nothin'. and no whar to put it, please sir!" 
 
THE OmnODOXY OF EDUCATION. 27 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Zk (Orthoiovn of Ountion. 
 
 " Round her she made an atmosphere of life ; 
 The very air seemed brighter for her eyes, 
 They were' so soft, so beautiful, so rife 
 With all we can imagine of the skies." 
 
 The Beautiful ever seems to claim our ready affection, and never 
 more than when it comes in the outline of the wondrous human 
 form ; vet when we say Mary was beautiful ! how shall we em- 
 body that heart-stirring word? How meet the taste of our fair 
 reader, when "every eye makes its own beauty,*' and that unde- 
 finable sensation and appreciation of it will wander over the 
 entire region of one mind, and leave another unthrilled ? 
 
 However, as we are not attempting an essay, but simply writing 
 a story, let us proceed, ever remembering that "the high standard 
 of the' beautiful is set in reasons forum." Thus, with regard to 
 grown-up ;i little Papa," probably it was not the dreamy softness 
 of her dark hazel eye, curtained by its deeply -fringed lid, the 
 polished loftiness of her brow, the delicacy of her slightly-aquiline 
 nose, the rich crimson of her well-cut lip, or the clearness of her 
 somewhat pale complexion, — for possibly no feature, singly, would 
 have borne the rigid test and ,; cant of criticism ;" still when the 
 eye rested on her, the heart went with it ; and, whether attired 
 in light evening costume, displaying the rounded grace of her 
 elegant figure, or, in simple morning robe, the gazer felt she 
 produced all the effect of beauty — that involuntary and indescri- 
 bable heart-homage one renders to it, without consulting critic 
 or connoisseur : and it fell as naturally from the lip, " how 
 beautiful she is ! M as to exclaim -what a lovely morning!'' in the 
 bright Spring-time, when the heart exuberates, full of rapturous 
 lifeT Then, too, Mary had a pleasant aptness in always doing 
 
28 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 the best thing at the best time, and saving the proper thing in 
 the proper place ; with an intuitive ease she fascinated at first, 
 and won afterwards by the gentle sweetness and consideration for 
 the feelings or peculiarities of others she invariably evinced. 
 Some people would have called her irresistible way of going 
 straight to the heart, tact ; and what society would do without 
 that vade mecum of words, is an inquiry not unworthy the columns 
 of Xotes and Queries, so all-expressive, so comprehensive is it. 
 And yet, applied to this fair girl, it was not the term ; there was 
 so much reality about her, such transparent singleness and sim- 
 plicity of purpose permeating her character, that however outre 
 the idea may be, tact, applied to her, would not have been the 
 right term in the right place. And yet, with all this single- 
 heartedness there was also a depth and earnestness of nature 
 rendering the idea paramount in her mind almost an absolutism 
 for the time, which promised success in whatever she undertook, 
 and challenged confidence in her mental strength ; thus, if to 
 these many -varied and brilliant advantages we superadd the fact 
 that she was considered rich, will it be surprising that she had 
 numerous offers and numberless friends ? — not a few of the latter 
 being among the poor, the aged, and the miserable, who ever 
 found in "that sweet young lady. Miss Grenville," a kind and sym- 
 pathising friend. Hours of loneliness did she beguile in listening 
 to the oft-told tales of their griefs and wrongs ; and no trifling por- 
 tion of her liberal allowance of pocket-money found its way into 
 their huts in charity's ever-unmistakeable shape — the necessaries 
 of life. 
 
 ^ It might have been from hearing the subject frequently 
 discussed at her father's dinner-parties, of the " strange goings 
 on among the saints in the town," the force of her school educa- 
 tion, or, still more probably, from hereditary prejudices which 
 will inhere, generation after generation, that Mary entertained 
 some notions amounting almost to that relic of the fire and stake- 
 bigotry ; and yet it is too harsh a term to apply to one so large, 
 so loving- hearted. Perhaps it will be nearer the truth to sav, 
 that unlike her respected father, who believed salvation was only 
 to be found in "his church," and who w^ould have refused it from 
 any other, she had a confused, intangible sort of idea that the 
 best kind of salvation was treasured up there, and accordingly, 
 looked upon the teaching of any other section as extremely low 
 and vulgar, fit only for the fanatic and ismorant of the lowest 
 
THE ORTHODOXY OF EDUCATION. 29 
 
 orders. Still she loved kindness and consistency wherever and 
 in whomsoever she met with it, and whether the recipient of her 
 ever-upwelling charity and sympathy attended church or chapel, 
 it was of no consequence to her. — enough that they were poor 
 and sorrowful. True, her impulsiveness often brought regret on 
 discovering the frequent impositions on her bounty by artful 
 recipients, and often did she yearn for a mother's tender guidance 
 and counsel : vet in this very impulsiveness there was a beauty — an 
 unconventional gracefulness recalling to the beholder the untram- 
 melled luxuriance and elegant freedom of the wild-briar or honey- 
 suckle, in the tangled haunts and careless rambles of roving youth. 
 
 There were moments, too, when a feeling of sad:, ss, 
 inseparable companion of deep hearts, crept over her. awaken- 
 ing vague, dim longings for a higher existence ; and though 
 by the moiiy, this innermost soul-yearning would have been 
 " pooh-poohed !" as "folly!" "ridiculous!" " nonsense '." with 
 which one so gifted and favoured had nought to do, to the 
 few it awoke a kindred echo. 
 
 Whence cometh this plaintive sadness wandering tibi 
 the depths of feeling ? — why this strata of melancholy under- 
 lying the heart's surface, even though the outer life be tremulous 
 with creature bliss ! 
 
 Surelv it is a spirit whisper, reminding the soul of its pilgrim 
 state, when, like a young eaglet, with eye fixed on the sun, it 
 yet quivers on newly-fledged wing nearer earth than heaven ! 
 — that whisper to which the heart listens, hushed and solemn, as 
 it interprets, " this is not my rest.'' 
 
 Ah ! earth has no resting place for the immortal soul ! What 
 if M we take the wings of morning, and fly to the uttermost parts 
 of the sea," or mount up 'mid the glory of the impassive stars; 
 what if we drink deep at the springs whence knowledge bubbles 
 and bursts forth in bewildering streams, or deck the brow with 
 roses, and glide down the untroubled tide of pleasure ; even as 
 day-light die3 on the hill top, so one by one shall our joys depart, 
 and the crv of the unsatisfied soul will be "this is not my rest."' 
 
 The first grief that cast its gloom over Mary's lifepath, was 
 the early death of one of the sweetest beings that ever ti 
 sin-stained earth. Tenderlv attached to her sweet friend 
 
30 A LIFE-LONG STOKY. 
 
 scarcely left her side, even after the ransomed spirit had gone its 
 glory- way, and long wa3 it ere her voice lost its tremor, or her 
 eye again flashed out its old glad look. 
 
 For a season this event awoke strange thoughts and fears — dim 
 foreshadowings of the untried future ; as the young life of her 
 friend ebbed away on her bosom, murmuring the name of Jesus, 
 a solemn, unearthly feeling pervaded her entire being, as if that 
 murmur came from within the veiJ, and some subtle filament, 
 mysteriously connecting her with the spirit-world was drawing 
 her resistlessly away from the things and ties of time. 
 
 Along, death-like faint followed the "golden sunset" of her 
 darling friend, and though (like the confused imagery of a broken 
 dream) nothing tangible rested on her memory, save that the 
 loved was gone. 
 
 '' Gone ! oh ! so far. eye may not track her thither, 
 Nor strong wings follow, where her flight may be." 
 
 Many suns arose and set, ere the lonesome girl " smiled as she 
 was wont to smile," or opened her sealed heart to enshrine 
 another in its sacred depths. 
 
 Dear reader, bear with us ! It is one thing to sentimentalize 
 over the vanitv and brevitv of life after reviewing Ions: series of 
 
 *- y CD CD 
 
 causes and effects, tracing events from their origin to their close ; 
 comparing means with ends ; discovering the weakness of man's 
 mightiest schemes ; detecting the mirage bv which they are 
 deluded, and thence deducing the stern fact that neither boundless 
 wealth nor despotic power can confer happiness. But it is another 
 thing to stand mute with anguish by the death-bed, and watch 
 the dreaded film gather over the sinking eye that ever wore love's 
 light for us : to watch the midnight shadow darken the brow and 
 lip whose smile was more precious than "much fine gold ;" to 
 hear the voice grow faint, and fainter still, as the spirit passes 
 from time's receding shores, whose music was sweeter far than 
 iEolian murmurs ; to hang over the quivering breath, dreading 
 yet praying that the strife may cease ; then to know the breast 
 whereon we laid our head in joy and sorrow is cold, — cold, that 
 never was chill to us before, oh ! it is indeed another thins:! Xo 
 philosophy teaches like a death-bed : no act so solemn as the act 
 to die. We look on the ruins of life and beauty left us by 
 the great Destroyer ; Death seems to have the victory, and 
 the heart is wrecked, when over its troubled billows waft the 
 
THE ORTHODOXY OF EDUCATION. 31 
 
 Saviour's blessed accents, " weep not ! thy darling is not dead, but 
 
 sleepeth." 
 
 u That cheek shall wear a fairer hue, 
 When risen from the yielding sod ; 
 Those eyes shall speak more soft, more true, 
 Love, in the paradise of God." 
 
 To her father Mary was dutiful and affectionate, attending with 
 cheerful alacrity to his lightest wish, and ever submitting to his 
 sometimes arbitrary requirements with a yielding obedience 
 which left him in full-blown enjoyment of that self-love and ease 
 he so highlv valued ; and though there was little or no sympathy 
 between them on any subject, this never troubled him. He 
 allowed her the free use of his purse, as much from a sense of 
 well placed confidence, as from his dislike to be consulted or 
 worried f which were both one to him) on any subject he could 
 possibly evade. To Mary this utter want of oneness of feeling 
 between them was a source of deep regret, and often when 
 sio-hing for a kindred sympathy to enter into her plans and 
 views, and to share her anxieties — anxieties she felt less tor her- 
 self than for others — the cold indifferentism of his tone, or the 
 good-humoured but heartless banter fell on her ardent spiiit like 
 a wind that freezes the mountain spring, and she sought re- 
 fuge in those impassioned inner yearnings before alluded to. It 
 was easy to read on her earnest face, with its varying light and 
 shade, that the depth and tone of her feelings, the warmth and 
 amplitude of her heart, and the strength and poetry of her intellect 
 needed but the love-guiding hand and true heart to develope a 
 character of no ordinary usefulness, in a sphere where her influ- 
 ence would be hallowed by the holy principles of the Great 
 Teacher. 
 
 The education she had imbibed at Mrs. Gregory's was of the 
 highest calibre for maturing mind and body power, the former 
 being expanded, as if by g<ns; to master every possible and impos- 
 sible branch of ancient and modern learning, and the latter tor- 
 tured and trained into all the multifarious ramifications, flexions, 
 and genuflexions constituting the " poetry of motion/' and the 
 banishment of health with a skill and perseverance worthy a 
 better cause. So celebrated had one of this lady's posture 
 masters become for his unrivalled system of initiating young im- 
 mortals into the important art of stepping into a carriage with 
 ease and leaving it with srrace, that in a fever of gratitude she found 
 
32 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 no difficulty in raising contributions from his numerous admirers, 
 to enable her to present him with a " superb silver tea and coffee 
 service," after an annual display of their astonishing proficiency 
 before an enraptured audience, when a dashing young attachee 
 assured her, that during his lengthened residence in Athens, 
 " Ton his honaiv, he nevo.iv saw a Gweek statue theazr that could 
 be at all corc^m'ed to her charming 'gazds ! " 
 
 And these charming girls themselves exhibited a dignified self- 
 denial under the severe penances inflicted on them, for the 
 purpose of binding dame Nature within the bounds of madame 
 Art, that would well nigh have matched the perseverance and 
 insane devotedness of the celebrated Yogey, who measured the 
 distance between Benares and Juggernaut with his body, alter- 
 nated rising up and lying down. 
 
 Then, as to the intellectual ; but we must pause and take along 
 breath, ere we rush through the elastic catalogue with its hetero- 
 geneous " lots of ancient and rare vertu, collected at vast expense 
 and trouble by the proprietors." 
 
 And, in due order — according to Mrs. Gregory's advertisements, 
 — that "profound attention is expended on their religious, moral, 
 and intellectual improvements," let us " begin at the beginning," 
 and inform our readers that these young ladies could converse 
 fluently on the rival creeds of Fathers, Pagans, Bhuddists, Fire- 
 worshippers, Brahmins, Mahomedans, or Jews, having the Koran, 
 Vida, Talmud, etc., at their fingers' ends ; and could argue 
 with enthusiasm, bordering on distraction, as to which merited the 
 forgiveness of sins for having invented the diapason, Guido Are- 
 tine or the musical rocks on the shores of the Orinoco. 
 
 They could dispute on the antiquity of matter, backing Par- 
 menides, Pythagoras, and Aristotle, in their views of its being 
 eternal, against all modern philosophers, with Sir Isaac Xewton at 
 their head ; laughing heartily at the Scythians, Phrygians, Chal- 
 deans, Egyptians, Greeks, and Chinese, for claiming the highest 
 antiquity in that which had no beginning ! 
 
 For their astronomy they went back to Anaxagoras — ay, and 
 far beyond him and the Chaldeans to boot ; they could reckon 
 with unerring precision the apogee and perigee of the first sun 
 and moon that rose and set on the infant earth, calculate all 
 kinds of planetary perihelions and occupations, predate all the 
 lunar and solar rainbows yet to appear, enumerate with certainty 
 not onlv the moment when the 2:reat comet would again be visible 
 
THE ORTHODOXY OF EDUCATION. 33 
 
 in our hemisphere, but also the exact number of fixed stars that 
 may be seen through its beard, trace the course of all the shoot- 
 ing-stars that ever shot, etc., etc., sifting the chaff from the 
 "wheat with marvellous tact. 
 
 They would speculate ou the modern ideas as to whether the 
 " celestial bodies had influenced the configuration of stones into 
 fossil shells, or whether they were creatures that absolutely 
 existed in a former period of the world's history," with a depth 
 of acumen that would have entranced the author of "Vestiges." 
 
 They would throw off a masterly translation of the mysterious 
 hieroglyphical cryptology on the resuscitated sarcophagi of As- 
 syria or Egypt with a readiness that would have petrified Cham- 
 pillion and Rawlinson ; and classify the data of the Zanthian, 
 Nineveh, or any other marbles, with a dilettanti ease that would 
 cause the accomplished Sir Charles Fellowes to hide his diminished 
 head, or the indefatigable Layard to faint with astonishment ! 
 
 They drank deep into the arcana of Thrasyllusian astrology, 
 and with its marvels they associated omens, warnings, peeping 
 crystals, magic mirrors, ruling planets, telling fortunes, to say 
 nothing of ghost stories (oh, what a rare place for ghost stories 
 was Mrs. Gregory's !) and miracles. 
 
 How they sighed to be like St. Fechin, who — Butler in his 
 Lives of the Saints gravely tells us — was so holy that when he bathed 
 in cold water it became boiling hot w r ith the fervour of his piety ! 
 
 How they envied the power of St. Goar, who " when in distress 
 for want of a peg to hang his cape on, made use of a sunbeam " 
 which remained stationary in the most gentlemanlike manner till 
 the saint wanted his cloak again ! 
 
 How intensely they anticipated a trip to " Schaffhausen to see 
 the breath of St. Joseph, which Nicodemus had received into his 
 glass !" 
 
 How they would talk over the " beautiful" and " fashionable" 
 appearance the vender of indulgences at Wirtemburg must have 
 made, when walking about the streets selling his wares, with a 
 feather plucked from the wing of the archangel Michael adorning 
 his head.* They would have thought scorn of all the marabout 
 or bird of paradise plumes in the world for their bonnets, could 
 they but have obtained the like. 
 
 (It would be worthy the columns of Notes and Queries as to what 
 a certain Father would say to the delicious credulity of these 
 Vide D'aubigng's Reformation. 
 
 r me u auuigue s sxejormaxxon. 
 
 D 
 
34: A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 trusting girls. Sure, sure it would bring tears into his reverend 
 eyes). 
 
 They could particularize with a Lydia Languish air the thirty 
 points of beauty ascribed by her historian Nevizano, to the fair, but 
 frail Trojan ; and contend for the sculpture of Praxiteles versus 
 Phydias, or the painting of Parrhasius to any school since in- 
 vented, pre-Raphaelite included, dogmatizing no end on the 
 " merits of the Byzantine style, the appreciation of the Venetian 
 colour, the Flemish chiaro-oscuro and stuff." They could furnish 
 a short but brilliant synopsis of the " early history of nations ere 
 the pyramids frowned upon the Nile, or Italy and Greece had 
 emerged from chaos," or trace the genealogy of the Caryatides, 
 and the sitting colossi in the great rock temple of Ipsambul, or 
 of the mysterious cromlechs in our own land with a clearness and 
 depth of proof that would make the shrewdest member of the 
 Archaeological Society blush. 
 
 In biography and chronology they were deeply versed ; they 
 could decide the question poor, puzzled, pains-taking Rollin 
 could not, by proofs from mountains of research, that the data of 
 the birth of Semiramis and Nitocris both belonged to the Abra- 
 hamic age. 
 
 Then, as to philosophy (all natural excluded), time would fail, if 
 patience did not, to give even a short account of the teachings and 
 doctrines they could enumerate and classify. 
 
 They were profound in phytology, asteology, petrology ; in fact 
 all the " ologies" in existence, including tautology — but, of course, 
 not demonology, unless indeed they had dabbled precociously in 
 table-turning and mesmerism, which the initiated tell us are both 
 the same, and belong to that occult science. 
 
 They speculated in psychomacy and sciomancy. 
 
 They understood the use of the eudiometer, hygrometer, ane- 
 mometer, and could measure the density of fluids or discover 
 the specific gravity of solids to a hair's weight ; grow delirious on 
 the power of the lever and value of the angle ; talk of isoperi- 
 metical and cycloidical, of the possibility of squaring the circle, 
 or making two parallel lines meet in the centre, with a certainty 
 of success that would have "spifflicated" Hipparchus and Euclid. 
 
 With chemistry, metaphysics, ballooning, and electricity made 
 easy, they were aufait. 
 
 They had studied the sublime under Longinus, and delighted 
 in Burke. 
 
THE ORTHODOXY OF EDUCATION. 35 
 
 They had invented a kind of marinorama, showing the gra- 
 duated' depths or water strata in which big fish and little fish 
 swim to avoid collision, — mem. an every day life lesson, — ex- 
 plaining in one view the exact thickness and size of the respective 
 air bladders that extend or collapse as the case of sink or swim 
 may require. Mem. — another every-day life lesson. 
 
 They knew, to a turn — but we have nearly run ourselves out of 
 breath, and will wind up this scheme of education by compli- 
 menting it as quite an university course on a small scale, every- 
 thing being, like the furniture* of Plato's house, "for use and 
 nothing for show." Hence it seemed an absolute necessity, grow- 
 ing out of such a masculine affair, that the tastes, dress, pursuits, 
 etc., should partake of the same, influenced by the varied occu- 
 pations of creation's lords, — some one thing, some another. 
 
 One " chaicming gaid" would follow the hounds, take a five- 
 barred gate, and go into hysterics of delight at being in at the 
 death, and able to exhibit the reeking brush to out-distanced 
 Tom and Jack, calling the feat " quite a plucky affair." 
 
 A second took to shooting and angling, declaring she could 
 bring down a hundred brace with her " Manton," or hook it with 
 small and great fly, "like a brick!" 
 
 A third patronised rowing, smoking, steering, and occasionally 
 drinking, pronouncing it "loud," or " stunning nice ;" and in their 
 varied costumes of reefer or jockey jacket, wide-awake, miner, or 
 " shocking bad hat," they would place the latter akimbo, thrust 
 their hands into the pockets of the former, scarcely distinguish- 
 able from the aforenamed Tom and Jack, save that their own 
 barefacedness presented an amusing contrast to the thick jungle of 
 hair in which those of the "lords" were 
 
 " In sweet confusion lost.'' 
 
 If, indeed, mamma — with a vivid remembrance of sundry old- 
 fashioned teachings imbibed from copy-slips, but quite an 
 anachronism now-a-days, " Modesty highly adorns a woman," 
 " Honour thy father and mother " " Remember to keep holy 
 the Sabbath/' — ventures to hint gently she did not think certain 
 habits quite correct, she "never did it when she was a girl," ostra- 
 cism ensued at once, and poor dear mamma voted " a bore," " fear- 
 fully slow." Papa, too, fared little better ; if he liked a quiet 
 Sunday he was " muffy," " dummy," " slow," not to admire the 
 " charming continental fashion" impioved on, namely, to the opera 
 till twelve on Saturday night, home, undressing, talking over the 
 
 d 2 
 
36 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 week's adventures and flirtations, weighing chances pro and con of 
 success in the matrimonial " dead sets" they had perpetrated ; 
 scolding the poor weary Abigail for daring to be sleepy ; storming 
 because Madame Sellica had not sent home the dress ordered in 
 -. the morning, which she promised ' faithfully ' should be done, if 
 she kept two young women on all night, that it might be sent 
 home in time for exhibition at morning service or the drive, and 
 so night deepens — day breaks — and behold, 'tis the Sabbath of 
 God, whose after-hours are frittered away like its opening moments 
 — no thought of heaven or hell ! 
 
 But nearly all the mammas and papas had forgotten, if they ever 
 knew anything about these outre, antiquated, anachronised ideas. 
 They, too, went with the times, and there was no Punch then ; 
 perhaps, if there had been, his pungent reproof might have been 
 lost. Startling idea! a community of fashionistsPuNCH-hardened ! 
 Mammas, whose ages had exceeded that allotted by the Royal 
 Philosopher, adopted the pre-bloomer costume, coming out in 
 character, padded and puffed, and hooped to the dimensions 
 required bv the Gorgon Fashion ; and though u Time had woven 
 almond-blossoms 'mid the hair," and had otherwise dealt most 
 ungraciously in stealing lustre both from eye and lip, on the 
 antiquated pvramid was worn the "wide-awake," or "miner ;" and 
 malgre the shouts of impertinent street urchins, — "who's yer 
 hatter?" — "who's yer cooper?" — the ancient juveniles deluded 
 themselves into the belief that they had quaffed from the fountain 
 of perennial youth, and, like the slow pupil of Apelles, who, 
 failing to make his Helen young and beautiful, determined to 
 make her fine, each one came out in morning full dress, or even- 
 ing wn-dress, faster than " fast." 
 
 Ancient papas, patriarchs of the fourth generation, vied in 
 fashionable folly with that "sad dog, Tom," "that wild fellah, 
 Jack," or "that scamp, Dick," till the foolish old boy could scarce 
 be distinguished from the knowing young ones. 
 
 " But," interrupts some querulous reader, u what good will 
 all this knowledge be to those young girls ? I never learnt so 
 much, and I have done well enough. It seems to me that their 
 education began at the wrong end ; they might have been storing 
 more useful everyday knowledge, and have left the acquisition of 
 the hyper-ultra till they left school." 
 
 Excuse us : not left " school," — left Mrs. Gregory's. 
 
THE ORTHODOXY OF EDUCATION. 37 
 
 Undoubtedly your idea will be echoed by many mothers who 
 will never read this little book, and who have uttered the useless 
 wish that they had never heard of Mrs. Gregory's, or any other 
 fashionable establishment similarly conducted ; and, admitting 
 that the requirements of one age are no criterion for those of 
 another, assuredly all systems of education should be valued for 
 their practical bearing on this important and mysterious human 
 life, considered as a brief — often how brief— passage to eternity ; 
 therefore, any knowledge acquired at the expense of self- 
 knowledge, had better not be acquired at all. 
 
 These pliant beings, in whom the outer soul and the material 
 were stretched to their utmost capacity — these creatures who 
 were to become actors in a sphere where their influence is so 
 unlimited and inconceivable, that the nineteenth century with all 
 its progress in social enlightenment catches but faint outlines of 
 its extent, 'mid all the high pressure put on, cramming for their 
 numberless masters, the teachings of the Master who "spake 
 as never man spake" were wholly slighted, and they knew 
 nothing of that grand old book, the Bible ; the volume that 
 has raised woman from slavery and moral degradation to the 
 position assigned her by her Creator, a helpmeet and equal for 
 man, and which has been so aptly defined by the Caffres as the 
 " shield of woman." 
 
 The Book of which Father Newman declares, " all there has 
 been about man of softness and gentleness ; of purity, of penitence, 
 and good, speak to him for ever out of its pages." 
 
 The Book from which " the most notorious infidel France ever 
 produced was one day found teaching his child morality, 
 alleging that he knew no code of ethics so perfect as that one 
 contained in its pages ; thus, while scoffing at its pretensions to a 
 Divine revelation, admitting" its humanizing effects when consi- 
 dered as a manual of civilization." 
 
 " This Book, Star of Eternity!" 
 
 " The only star 
 
 By which the bark of man could navigate 
 The sea of life, and gain the coast of bliss 
 Securely !" 
 
 This Book, on every line 
 
 " Marked with the seal of high Divinity; 
 
 On every page bedewed with drops of love divine ; 
 
 This lamp that from the everlasting throne 
 
 Mercy took down, and stands, beseeching man 
 
 With tears and earnest sighs to hear, believe, and live," 
 
38 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 found no place in the teachings of Mrs. Gregory; "no time to 
 read the Bible," being the answer to one anxious mother who en- 
 quired whether it was to be made the foundation whereon the 
 goodly superstructure was to be reared which she entrusted to 
 that lady's advertisement. 
 
 The Greeks (who with all their seductive philosophy believed 
 their great goddess Diana was best pleased when a thousand inno- 
 cent female children were sacrificed as an oblation to her) taught 
 their offspring by heart the poems of Hesiod, because of their 
 moral tendency. Oh, wise heathens ! oh, wiser christians, who 
 reject the great life lessons of the Bible, though an eternity of 
 joy or woe hinges thereon ! 
 
 Not but that these young creatures certainly did imbibe a por- 
 tion of heartless theology called "religious instruction/' the 
 salient of which impressed them with pious self-gratulation that 
 they " were not as others," but were born within the pale of a 
 compassionate mother who made them " heirs of the king- 
 dom " before they were responsible for their actions, thereby 
 shielding them from the agonizing M to enter in," so solemnly en- 
 joined by the Great Teacher, and for which religious instruc- 
 tion not to be found in the Bible, they waited anxiously every 
 Wednesday evening in full dress as it came through the junior curate 
 of Saint Bennett's ; but of the highest wisdom, before which all 
 other pales, to know themselves as lost sinners, and to be led by 
 the sweet constraint of a dying Saviour's love to the foot of His 
 cross as the one heart-refuge amid life's temptations and trials, 
 and griefs — to seek shelter in this ark and prove it all its mar- 
 vellous type was to the rescued patriarch when landed on the 
 summit of Ararat it stood "a magnificent monument of mercy be- 
 tween the weeping heavens, the mausoleum earth, and a waiting 
 hell," formed no part of it ; and though during Mary's probation at 
 this first-rate establishment, two or three little weary victims were 
 tortured out of existence by mental pressure, whither their spirits 
 went to dwell " nobody knew and nobody cared," sufficient that 
 the young ladies put on mourning (oh significant phrase !) and 
 Mrs". Gregory had hysterics, but still " no time " could be found 
 for reading the Bible; " no time" for training the affections, sympa- 
 thies, and passions by its holy precepts: " no time" in short for heart 
 education ; that which was to determine their destiny in eternity 
 was altogether unknown ; and just as good seed had been early 
 sown by "the mother's side, it was left to be choked with weeds 
 or stranded with meretricious flowers. 
 
THE ORTHODOXY OF EDUCATION. 39 
 
 Mark the flashing eye, the rising colour, and envious look, a3 
 that pale girl receives the coveted prize in this hot race of intel- 
 lect. Look at that forbidding scowl falling on the orphan child 
 of Want, standing with mute appeal near Mrs. Gregory's carriage, 
 waiting to convey its argosy to the opera, where eyes will pas- 
 sionately weep, and bosoms sentimentally heave at the mock 
 sorrow "of some immoral yet favourite actress in scenic repre- 
 sentations from which shocked Modesty should turn her offended 
 brow, and purity shrink affrighted. 
 
 Observe the " stand-by-I-am-better-than-thou" jostle of those 
 humbler looking girls who have accidentally encountered them at 
 a bazaar, because they belong to an opprobrious chapel. 
 
 Listen to the clamour in that luxurious home because Miss 
 Russell's dress has not arrived in time for her to prepare, without 
 fatigue, or about two hours before she need do so for the county 
 ball, though " she knows well enough," as her maid observes in 
 the servants' hall, " that Miss Jenks, the dressmaker, has been 
 up two whole nights with her dying mother, and Miss Russell's 
 got plenty of time to spare." 
 
 Watch the frown on the fair brow, the pout on the lip, and the 
 burst of indignation because Miss Alice's pony was lent, without 
 her wishes being consulted, to her young step-brother Franky. 
 
 But, waiving the dispute respecting the absolute necessity of 
 heart education as well as intellectual and physical, let us scan a 
 few facts selected from a mass that would swell this octavo into 
 a bulky book, and see how far the useful blended with the intel- 
 lectual at Mrs. Gregory's. 
 
 One young lady who had been "finished in Paris,'' was 
 utterly unable to sew on a button that had played truant from 
 her brother's wrist, or even to hem a pocket handkerchief. 
 
 A second innocently demanded of the author, m whether very 
 young children had any souls ? " 
 
 A third could not enlighten her younger sister in her query, 
 " what made the clouds full of rain ? " or help her mamma to 
 add up the u weekly accounts when the latter was suffering from 
 an English headache." 
 
 A fourth, haying studied " the sublime"' till she found the step 
 from it to the ridiculous shorter than even Napoleon dreamed, 
 believing herself a walking epitome of taste, in charming defiance 
 of its rules, had perched an extra-sized plaster cast of Samuel 
 (conspicuous enough in its own violation of all rules of relative 
 
40 A LIFE-LONG STORr. 
 
 proportion) on the top of a dumbwaiter in the newly-furnished 
 dining-room of her indulgent father. 
 
 A fifth insisted on having seen the chair whereon Queen 
 Elizabeth sat in Winchester Cathedral when married to Philip of 
 Spain. 
 
 A sixth rushed shrieking out of the room, afraid of the blood 
 that oozed from her wee brother's face when he fell and inflicted 
 a wound on it ; while a seventh could not tell her cook how many 
 quarts went to a gallon, or distinguish a leg of mutton from a 
 sirloin of beef. 
 
 if Just such learned imbeciles as might have been expected from 
 such a schoo— I mean, from such an education," exclaims our 
 fastidious reader. 
 
 Undoubtedly, "a place for everything and everything in its 
 place," according to the wise old adage. The useful is the orna- 
 mental part of woman's education, if our friend Mrs. Gregory 
 would but think so, and they blend and harmonize beauti- 
 fully. Music and poetry, with their healthy purifying influences, 
 waiting on mamma as she teaches " lessons on common things " 
 to Johnny, or places dolly's pinafore for his sister's fat little 
 fingers to hem or " pucker," as she tells her stories of the Babe 
 in the manger, the angels singing to the shepherds, or the dove 
 and the ark. 
 
 'Tis high time, however, to return to the doctor, and perhaps 
 it is but fair to explain the hint just now given relative to his 
 somewhat "arbitrary requirements," which consisted in endea- 
 vouring to extort from Mary a promise never to accompany her 
 favourite friend Mrs. Leslie to " hear that canting fellow Cour- 
 tenaye," and that she would confine her charities " to the poor 
 of her own church." (The doctor resorted to his morality for his 
 religion, not to his religion for his morality). The reasons he 
 assigned for these liberal requirements will be found in his own 
 peculiarly lucid way of explaining them: "he "didn't want to 
 hear any of the canting new-fangled humbug " his worthy son 
 assured him the young preacher largely dealt in ; and that " the 
 poor ought to go to their own clique to be clothed and fed." 
 
 To his first request Mary yielded, partly from habitual respect 
 to his wishes, partly from the tinge of bigotry in her character ; 
 but her woman's heart rebelled against the latter wish, and as her 
 father seldom gave himself the trouble to inquire how she spent 
 
THE ORTHODOXY OF EDUCATION. 41 
 
 her allowance, or if the poor were fed or not, she dispensed her 
 bounty to the sick and needy with a sensitive regard to their 
 feelings, for |she firmly believed the poor had these uncomfort- 
 able appendages to their poverty, and with a liberal sense of their 
 right of private judgment in the matter of worship, demonstrating 
 that there was no bigotry in her heart, however it might have 
 crept into her head. 
 
42 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 gt'rs. ftsft nnD te gfostan. 
 
 BISHOP.— "Moreover it is his (the priest's) office where provision is so made, 
 to search for the poor, sick, and impotent people of the parish, kc- Will you 
 do this, gladly and willingly ?" 
 
 Priest.— "I will do s©, by the help of God."— Ordination Service, 
 
 "Julia, I wish you would use your persuasive powers and 
 induce your sweet friend Mary Grenville, to interest herself in 
 the reformations and improvements Courtenaye is labouring so 
 untiringly to effect among us ; undertakings of this kind never 
 prosper to any great extent until the women throw their influence 
 and energies into the scale ; they have such persuasion and tact 
 and can make their way where we lejs skilful philanthro^ 
 . fail, " remarked Henry Leslie, smiling affectionately on is 
 charming little wife, who leant on his arm, as they walked home- 
 ward after the morning service. 
 
 11 1 will do all I can to persuade her, dear Henry, you may 
 rest assured, for there is a loud call on all who have influence to 
 exert it in the good cause. Johnstone told me just now that 
 Smith had not closed his shop to-day, though he promised to do 
 so ; I think, perhaps, if my favouite were to ask him, and point 
 out to him the good his example may do among the lesser trades- 
 people, he would listen to her," replied his wife. 
 
 " Why do you think so my love ? " demanded Leslie. 
 
 "Because "he thinks there is no one like 'beautiful Miss 
 Grenville,' as he told my maid ; " adding, " I shall never forget 
 her kindness to my poor old mother when she fell down stairs in 
 the spring and broke her arm," was the answer. 
 
MRS. LESLIE AND HER MISSION. 43 
 
 " Well, by whatever means, I should rejoice to see all the 
 energies of your friend directed to a wider channel," replied Leslie. 
 
 ■ Yes, few things would give me more pleasure than to see 
 that noble-hearted girl in a sphere where her feelings and sym- 
 pathies would not be cramped as they now are," replied Mrs. 
 Leslie ; " but you know how very prejudiced and narrow-minded 
 her father is in his views on all subjects. I heard Fred tell 
 Courtenaye the other day he refused to give his daughter some 
 excellent antidote he keeps in the house prepared for spasms in 
 the breath, which she wanted for poor widow Jenks, because she 
 goes to the Wesleyan chapel ; and insisted on her giving a bread 
 and coal ticket to a well-known undeserving character, because 
 he saw her one day at the communion of his church."* 
 
 " Impossible ! " said Leslie, smiling. " Is he so bad as that? 
 I fear, then, for the success of your persuasions, wifey ; but I 
 am sure if she could but get his leave to accompany you some- 
 times and hear Courtenaye plead the causel of right and true 
 with that magnificent voice of his, a sense of her own respon- 
 sibility, with all the various capabilities she could command, 
 would* induce her at least to try and influence the doctor to a 
 more extended usefulness, when her own would follow as a matter 
 of course." 
 
 " Depend on it, Henry, it would be no very easy undertaking 
 to" erect a battering-ram strong enough to beat down that iron 
 wall of bigotry ; but I will not fail to use all the influence I have 
 over my favourite. It makes me sad to see any one possessed of 
 h„-h ample means for doing good as the doctor has, so unbeliev- . 
 ing and indifferent to the wants and the condition of the souls 
 and bodies of his fellow-creatures. What an incalculable amount 
 of good he may be the means of effecting, if only at the cost of 
 one of his sumptuous dinner parties given to the funds of the 
 City Mission." 
 
 "Yes, but depend, my love, he will never benefit that best of 
 good causes, and vour pet charity to boot," said Leslie, smiling 
 affectionately, " while his friend *Anstruther and his curate are 
 so inveterately opposed to it ; and while I am not surprised that 
 a man of his character should cling to his prejudices like a 
 Welshman to his pedigree, I must confess I feel somewhat 
 so that the rector never evinces the slightest sympathy or 
 interest in a cause which has been so signally blessed to the 
 
 * A fact. 
 
44 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 spiritual and moral elevation of thousands of our fellow-creatures, 
 who but for the timely visits of those ministers of mercy, the 
 City Missionaries, would have 'lived without God' and 'died 
 without hope.' " 
 
 " Strange, indeed," warmly responded his generous-hearted 
 wife, " and evinces a miserable narrowness of soul that refuses to 
 rejoice in a sinner saved, by whatever instrumentality. I won- 
 der whether the men who act with such guilty unconcern 
 in the matter of salvation ever reflect on those solemn vows 
 they made when at their ordination they declared themselves 
 ' inwardly moved to serve God for the promotion of his glory ;' 
 how can they promote " God's glory" but by seeking to save the 
 lost, for whom He agonized and died. Oh ! " she continued, 
 with flushed cheek and tearful eye, "if these ministers of the 
 religion founded by the meek and self-denying Jesus could but 
 have stood, as I did last night, by the dying bed of poor Martha 
 Williams, and listened to her expressions of gratitude to Courte- 
 naye for telling her of the Friend of lost sinners, and sending the 
 City Missionary to her, they would understand better than they 
 do the meaning of ' serving God for the promotion of His glory.' 
 Her last words were, ' God bless you for pointing a guilty soul to 
 the blood which cleanseth from all sin :' and then she went to 
 sleep like a tired child on its mother's breast." 
 
 Leslie pressed the arm of his gentle wife, and, for some moments, 
 neither spoke. When, at length, he broke the eloquent hush, 
 there was a subdued cadence in his voice that showed how deeply 
 his manly heart sympathised in the emotion and efforts of his 
 companion in her self-imposed mercy mission to the outcasts of 
 her sex, in a small but God-blessed sphere of which she was the 
 centre. 
 
 " Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, 
 ye have done it unto me" whispered her husband. 
 
 "I often wonder," resumed Mrs. Leslie, " what opinion would 
 be entertained of any man, much less a minister of the gospel, 
 who could stand coldly aloof and watch the straining efforts- of 
 some humane hearted passer-by to rescue a drowning fellow being, 
 refusing to lend a helping hand because doubtful of his creed, or 
 not sure he worshipped at the same sanctuary as himself. 
 Surely every one would shun such cruel indifference ; and "yet 
 because this mission was the offspring of some blessed, though 
 heterodox, follower of his Master, these men 'pass by on the 
 
MRS. LESLIE AND HER MISSION. 45 
 
 other side,' with an unconcerned 'am I my brother's keeper? 
 look, but too plainly evincing little of the spirit of the first city- 
 Missionary, who laid his glory by to seek and save the lost !" 
 
 " I agree with you, dearest," answered Leslie, " it is indeed 
 at once sad and surprising to see men professing the gospel 
 wasting precious time in wrangling about obsolete superstitions, 
 and neglecting the great end for which a christian ministry was 
 instituted — salvation. No doubt if they would ' do the work of 
 God' it would soon be known whether the doctrine be of Him or 
 not." 
 
 " Yes ; if they brought them into the light of the Word, — 'by 
 this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye love one 
 another ;' but surely, Henry, these men who act with such guilty 
 unconcern can possess none of their Master's spirit, or they would 
 yearn as he did over perishing souls ! They could not ' bite and 
 devour one another if His meek and lowly spirit dwelt in them ; 
 and it is to be feared that if the blessed Saviour himself were to 
 come into the midst of these jarring elements, 'making himself 
 of no repute,' and stealing into the lanes and streets where the lost 
 and miserable herd in our towns, as He did into the streets of 
 Jerusalem, He would be considered by these self-seeking men 
 anything but orthodox, or 'belonging to them.' " 
 
 The flushed cheek and moistened eye of the speaker told even 
 more than her words how deep was her interest for those over 
 whom she mourned, and for whose welfare she worked with self- 
 denying patience and hopeful perseverance. 
 
 " My own wifey must not be too severe on these poor ministers/' 
 said Leslie, soothingly ; ' the best of men are but men at best,' you 
 know, and the sad indifference too often manifested by them with 
 regard to the salvation of others may arise from their utter 
 unfitness for the sacred office into which they have been thrust, 
 not unfrequently sorely against their inclination (as we both well 
 know), because there chanced to be a living in the family, or some 
 good-natured patron had promised one. Do you remember 
 young Disney's repugnance to be 'made a parson ot ' when he had 
 set his heart upon the sea, as he told you I And poor conscien- 
 tious Mrs. Stanesbury's scruples about that wild son of hers, who 
 half broke her heart, taking upon himself the office of a ' teacher 
 sent from God V However, let us hope that a better time is 
 coming, now that public attention is directed to the gross corrup- 
 tion ; and rejoice, dearest, that we live under a polity allowing 
 
46 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 every man the right of private judgment in religious matters, 
 
 and " 
 
 "A woman the free use of her tongue, eh, Harry?" laughed 
 
 "wifey." 
 
 " I did not hint at such treason against my liege lady-wife,' ' 
 he rejoined, smiling. " But look ! is not that John Grenville 
 coming this way, and I do think your favourite with him ? I did 
 not know he was in our neighbourhood. 
 
 "Yes, it is Mary," replied Mrs. Leslie, "how glad I am! 
 Fred told me her brother was come here to remain." 
 
 " I am sorry for that," remarked Leslie ; " there can be no 
 sympathy of feeling and taste between them, and he influences 
 the doctor very much, I have heard." 
 
 " We were just speaking of you, fair lady," said Leslie, raising 
 his hat to Mary, and bowing coldly to Grenville ; " Julia wishes 
 you to grant her a wee favour, in which I am bold enough to 
 join ; will you give us an unconditional ' Yes.' ' 
 
 " Not exactly," replied Mary, in the gentlest voice imaginable ; 
 " for though I am in no fear that your demand will be very 
 exhorbitant, I am not sufficiently mistress of my actions to yield 
 up my power over them unconditionally," and she smiled sweetly. 
 " Nothing required of her to the prejudice of church and 
 state, I hope ?" asked her brother, with something between a 
 sneer and a chuckle. 
 
 " Mary shall judge for herself," said Mrs. Leslie ; " it is 
 simply whether you will accompany us this evening to hear Mr. 
 Courtenaye." 
 
 "You are just in the nick of time, by Jove! Mrs. Leslie," 
 interrupted J. Grenville ; " Mary is in high dudgeon with Drone, 
 because when she asked him yesterday to go and see a protege 'of 
 hers who has taken it into her head to die, he replied, < she did 
 not belong to them, and he couldn't be visiting in that missionary 
 wav ;'* so now's your time," he added, with another covert sneer, 
 as he slightly emphasised " missionary way." 
 
 " Don't regard him, dear Julia," said Mary, laughing, but 
 colouring slightly ; "he is only in one of his tormenting fits." 
 " But you know it is a fact, Mary," persisted her brother. 
 "Which," asked H. Leslie, gravely, "your being in a torment- 
 ing fit, or Mr. Drone's charity ?" 
 
 *A fact. 
 
MRS. LESLIE AND HER MISSION. 47 
 
 "Both, if you like," said Grenville, "according to my very 
 proper sister's version." 
 
 " Will the * very proper sister ' vouchsafe us a reply, then ? 
 demanded Leslie, looking kindly at her. 
 
 Again Mary coloured, as she replied, — 
 
 " Papa does not like me to go to any place of worship but our 
 own church, and has made me promise not to do so without his 
 leave. I should not like to ask him to-day, because he has a few 
 friends to dine, and likes me to take the head of the table ; but 
 if you both wish it very much, I will beg him to allow me to 
 accompany you some other time." 
 
 " Next Wednesday evening, please, dearest," said Mrs. Leslie ; 
 " Mr. Courtenaye is lecturing on * the lost piece of silver,' and 
 I am sure you will like his simple, earnest way of striving to win 
 
 souls." 
 
 "Oh, for pity's sake, don't infect her with a Courtenaye 
 mania, Mrs. Leslie !" exclaimed J. Grenville, half in jest, and the 
 better half in earnest ; " one hears^of nothing now but this Mr. 
 Courtenaye and his doings, go where we will. Mary would be 
 easily bitten just now, eh ?" and he looked into her sweet face as 
 mischievous as an overgrown Puck. 
 
 " I wish there were a few more Mr. Courtenaye' s in our town," 
 remarked Leslie, quietly, and he glanced at the last speaker a 
 look he evidently interpreted as intended, and hated Mm ac- 
 cordingly. 
 
 " I don't think you need entertain any fears on my account, 
 John," remarked his sister. "I should never leave my own 
 church, for though I am sometimes very dissatisfied with Mr. 
 Anstruther and his curate, I should not leave on that account, 
 so I may go with safety to hear your favourite, dear Julia," she 
 added, smiling, as she took the hand of her friend at parting. 
 
 "Perhaps you will accompany your sister, Mr. Grenville?" 
 said Julia, whose fixed principle it was never to lose an oppor- 
 tunity of 'sowing beside all waters,' "and return with us to 
 tea ? We are very quiet people, but we will promise you some 
 music and a Scotch welcome." 
 
 " No, I thank you, Mrs. Leslie, I have quite enough preaching 
 once on Sunday. You ought to ask the governor," and the 
 young man laughed at his fancied wit. 
 
 " I am sure he would not regret if he accepted an invitation to 
 hear Mr. Courtenaye," said Leslie. " Pray accompany your sister." 
 
48 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 " No, thank you," was the brief reply, as they moved away, 
 but not before Julia had whispered into Mary's ear, " next Wed- 
 nesday evening, recollect, darling." 
 
 " What a strange contrast J. Grenville is to his sister," re- 
 marked Leslie. 
 
 '• What a stiff, methodistical fellow that Leslie is. I am glad 
 he hook'd it," said John Grenville. 
 
 " I wonder what there is in this Mr. Courtenaye that influences 
 others so much," mused Mary, and then the words of old Goody 
 Horton came into her mind, " ah, miss ! the poor would be better 
 than they be, if all the parsons cared for them like that blessed 
 man !" and she remembered her maid's account of his devotedness 
 to the poor dressmaker who died a little while ago, how he 
 " used to pray with her by the hour, quite like her equal." 
 
 " What a pity," thought Mary, " he doesn't belong to our 
 church ! How much good he may then do ! I should like to 
 hear him for once. No doubt he is a very good sort of young 
 man, but I cannot say I admire ranting. I wonder Julia, with 
 her superior intellect and taste, likes him so much. I wonder 
 what he is really like." 
 
 Thus she mused, and her homeward walk was silent. 
 
AN EYEPTPAY LIFE-PHASE. 49 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 %\\ €kx\pri pe-ptee. 
 
 " I would not wish to be in heaven if every one could merit it by his 
 good works, and we did not all find admittance there by grace ; for then each 
 one would be comparing his own doings and sufferings, with that of others, 
 and there would be pride, envy, contention, and jealousy in heaven, as there is 
 on earth. But if Christ alone has merited heaven for all, and all who enter are 
 indebted to grace, we may hope for peace and rest." — Maetix Boos. 
 
 Spring ! beautiful, bright-eyed Spring ! Earth flings thy rainbow 
 mantle over her travel-stained path, and the sorrowless heart, 
 thrilling in its exuberance of life, leaps like u the roe on the 
 mountain of spices." 
 
 Childhood sins;s its wee slad sons:, vet scarce knows why it 
 sings — and tossing the clustering curls from its brow, looks up 
 raptured into the intense azure, wondering whether the heaven 
 "mamma has told it all about" can be as beautiful as earth, 
 while Age at the grave's brink comes forth, and clears up its dusty 
 eye to gaze once more on thy fresh loveliness ere it falls asleep. 
 
 Sorrow steals from its desolate home, forgetting for awhile 
 that. the "night of weeping" is not past, and Poverty raises its 
 gaunt visage, brightening with glimpses of the fair land where 
 " they shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more." 
 
 Beautiful, Eden-like Spring ! Meet, yet dim foreshadower of 
 that glorious resurrection when the " mortal shall put on immor- 
 tality," when earth "emerging from her fiery baptism," and 
 denuded of all but what Almighty wisdom pronounced " very 
 good," shall again become the dwelling of the sinless, and attired 
 as a bride in the glory and beauty inhering in her ashes, shall 
 be the "tabernacle of God, and He will dwell among men." 
 
 Stoop, proud science, from thine eagle abstractions, and read in 
 
 E 
 
50 X LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 the indestructibility of matter, " Awake and suig, ye that dwell 
 in the dust." 
 
 But there are hearts whose pulses leap not to Spring's melody ; 
 their sunlight is quenched by shadows falling long and dark from 
 the graaping grave, and, with a yearning sigh, 
 
 " They turn from all she brings, 
 To all she cannot bring." 
 
 There are hearts, too, over whom a still darker shadow falls, the 
 ravless midnight of unpardoned sin. Reader! seest thou that 
 woman? "Take heed that thou despise not one of these." 
 •' Who made thee to differ '?" What hast thou that thou did'st 
 not receive ? Wert thou born in crime, and cradled in crime, 
 and as thv vears rolled on wert thou festering in crime till the 
 monster left thee nought of virtue's fair form to lose, and nought 
 of dishonour to learn, while "no one cared for thy soul?" 
 " Boast not thyself! " Or, hast thou ever " toiled all the night 
 and caught ncthing," wearily bowing thy head over thy bread- 
 depending task, and panting vainly for one kind word of sym- 
 pathv? "Hast thou struggled against temptation till the very 
 fierceness of thy duel has left thee in the Tempter's power ? 
 Hast thou turned to the right and left, finding none to cheer 
 thee on in thine unequal strife — or wept unavailing tears because 
 the father-hand that would have snatched thee from the yawning 
 gulf is a heap of powerless dust — and that she who erst 
 pillowed thy head on the faithful mother-breast hears not thy 
 strong cry ? 
 
 Yet, once again : hast thou ever sat plying thy weary task 
 with starting eyeballs, and fevered brow, thy thoughts far away 
 amid the daisied fields, the singing birds, the loving voices of thy 
 childhood's home, and awoke from the blessed dream to the 
 coarse rebuke, the rough command, the bitterly charged fault, till 
 tears, like molten lead, have welled up from thy seared heart ; 
 and with the memory of passion's burning vow of deathless con- 
 stancv rinsing over thy soul, then, then hast thou striven to steer 
 thv buffeted bark over the lashing foaming rapids \ _ "Boast not 
 thyself." The very absence of thy bark on temptation's Phlege- 
 thon might be its safety. 
 
 " Take heed that thou despise not.'' But step aside for a 
 moment ye gentle wives and mothers ; come from your nests 
 in the cedars into a small room on a third floor :] heed not the 
 
AN EVERYDAY LIFE-PHASE. 51 
 
 fatigue, nay, wrap not closer your rich robes, for 'tis all 
 clean, and that is a luxury the poor rarely enjoy. Advance, 
 feet dainty as thine own have left their impress here — beauty 
 peerless as thine has preceded thee ; enter, ye will not heed the 
 mean surroundings, or the small humble bed, for all your gaze 
 will be at once centred en the form stretched on it, never more 
 to rise. Look earnestly on that almost child face — may be ve will 
 greet it again when " the dead, small and great," shall be gathered 
 together. Mark the fever flush on that almost transparent cheek 
 pillowed on a mass of golden hair ; observe the white arm thrown 
 over that beauteous head with a touching grace a sculptor would 
 give worlds to embody ; but come nearer — see from under those 
 lashes that lie like pencilled shadows on the cheek, veiling the 
 soft lustre of her eye, tears are oozing, telling of storms that 
 shake even the closed up flower. Ah ! the lid is quickly raised ; 
 what means that wild glittering gaze ? Is the deadlv fire of 
 insanity lapping up her young life-current 1 See, she starts ! 
 Why that piercing, agonized look, that sudden pressure of the 
 hand to her marble forehead ! that wild shriek, followed by the 
 wail of despair, and the impassioned entreaty " sing to* me ! 
 oh, please sing to me the song the angels taught you !" Then, 
 what means that voice which a seraph might joy to own, gushing 
 out its low music in another song for the heart-weary in all 
 ages, 
 
 " There is a land of pure delight, 
 
 Where saints immortal reign, 
 Infinite day excludes the night, 
 
 And pleasures banish pain ! " 
 
 A look of peace comes over the face but now so troubled ; there is 
 a lull of the spirit tempest, and in a low, soft voice, the sick girl 
 repeats, as the song ceased, its last lines, 
 
 " And not a wave of sorrow roll, 
 Acrossmy peaceful breast !" 
 
 Tears, blessed tears fall thick and fast ; the eye, late so wildly 
 scintillating, wears once again its old look of child-trust; and there 
 she lay, that young thing in whose veins the terrible embers of 
 incipient madness smouldered, hushed by the heart-music of that 
 pleasant song, tranquil as a lotus shadow on the bosom of the 
 Nile. 
 
 Bending her bright head close to the poor girl's, our friend 
 
 bS 
 
52 Jl life-long stokt. 
 
 Mary -whispered, in tones quivering with sympathy, u Iam glad 
 you feel better now, Elinor, and that I came just when you were 
 wishing; for me ; have vou suffered much from those sad fits this 
 morning ?" 
 
 "Yes, ma'am," replied the sufferer, "I had such a dreadful 
 dream, and then they came on and set my head all on fire. 
 Oh, it was such a dream," and she hid her childish face under 
 the clothes of the bed, as if to shut out some hideous vision. 
 
 ' ' Don't think of your dream, my poor child," said Mary, gently 
 removing the clothes from her face, and taking the small wasted 
 hand in her's. " Look at these lovely flowers ; you will like 
 them because I gathered them from my own garden on purpose 
 for you, and here are some grapes, they will cool your poor lips," 
 and she prest the grateful juice from its rich dark skin into the 
 parted crimson of the sufferer's fevered mouth. 
 
 Taking the bunch of exquisite flowers, the sick girl gazed on 
 them long and eagerly, then kissed them and laid them on her 
 bosom ; and looking into Mary's face with an expression in which 
 the deepest gratitude blended with touching passionate sadness, 
 she said, in a low voice, "he used to bring me flowers, but they 
 all withered ; yes, all, all ! " then, pointing upward, she repeated, 
 from the song just ended, 
 
 " There never ending spring abides, 
 And never fading flowers." 
 
 " He used to brins; me flow r ers ! " Poor wounded dove ! He 
 who first woke love's sweet harmony in that young heart and 
 then trampled on its broken strings is still blended with all her 
 thoughts, even beyond the grave. He looks out upon her from 
 the gentle flowers-, and they speak to her of the past. He is 
 mysteriously linked with all the lights and shadows that flit and 
 flicker over her soul of hoarded memories — -of precious things. 
 He who has broken her trusting heart ! Oh, love of woman — 
 strange, beautiful mystery ! Neither things present nor things 
 to come can blot from the heart's tablet the mighty writing 
 love's hand has traced. Time may fling his dusty veil over it ; 
 change may pass over the outer life ; ten thousand influences and 
 interests may gather round and about it ; but the inscription 
 remains uneffaced ; and, when years have rolled away, though 
 light and unseen may be the touch that stirs or lifts the veil — 
 the low leaf-music of the summer breeze, the perfume of a 
 flower, a voice, a look that brings the lost, the loved again, the 
 
 
AN EVERYDAY LIFE-PHASE. 53 
 
 solemn beauty of the quiet stars, a wandering strain of some 
 olden melody — that touch brings out in undying characters the 
 mysterious writing. 
 
 "He used to bring me flowers." 
 
 " Do not think of anything that distresses you?" gently whis- 
 pered Mary ; "it is all passed now, and you will get well, and be 
 happy once more ; and when you are a little stronger, you shall 
 come and live with me, and " 
 
 " No, no !" mournfully interrupted the young victim, shaking 
 her head wearily ; " there will be no rest for me but in the church- 
 yard, with my mother. I have been a great sinner ; oh, a very 
 great sinner. Sometimes there comes a fear into my soul that I 
 can never be pardoned ; it lies with such a burning weight here ;" 
 and she pressed her wasted hand on her heart, adding, in an 
 excited tone, " oh, if I could be a little child again, and be 
 happy with my flowers, and forget all — all that dreadful time. 
 Tell me, tell me, sweet Miss Grenville, shall I be pardoned, 
 when I didn't know but that it was all true and right — indeed I 
 didn't ? Oh, talk to me something about the Saviour of sinners," 
 she continued, weeping piteously ; while Mary, scarce knowing 
 what to say to comfort her, held her hand in both her own, and 
 wept too — woman's beautiful tears of sympathy and compassion. 
 
 " Mr. Courtenaye would like to come up if you please," said 
 the good woman of the house, softly opening the door of the 
 sick room, and, in accordance with Elinor's " oh, yes, yes ! 
 ask him to come up," the young pastor entered. 
 
 "I hope I am not intruding," he said, bowing to Mary, and 
 going towards Elinor, taking her hand kindly, " tell me how 
 you are ? — do you feel better — more tranquil ; and I will go 
 now, and come some other time, when you are not so tenderly 
 cared for as you are to-day ?" and Courtenaye glanced with a 
 quiet smile at the flowers and fruit, and then towards Mary. 
 
 " No, no ; please sir, don't go !" exclaimed Elinor ; " I am so 
 glad that you are come. That dreadful burden is all here again," 
 and she pressed her heart ; " oh, if you will read to me and pray 
 with me, as you did last night, it will all go away !" 
 
 Courtenaye sat down, and immediately Mary arose, taking the 
 fading child's hand in hers, to bid her "good bye," when Elinor 
 clasping it with all her little strength, exclaimed, "oh, kind, 
 dear, beautiful Miss Grenville, won't you stay and hear about the 
 
54 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 Saviour of sinners? Do, do," she added with touching earnestness, 
 " hear Mr. Courtenave read about the Friend of the weary and 
 broken-hearted." 
 
 Thus appealed to, feeling moreover a subtle desire to hear this 
 " propagator of new-fangled notions" say something in that rich 
 voice, which, spite of her orthodoxy, had vibrated the chords of 
 harmony in her heart, Mary sat down ; and, after a few kind 
 inquiries of the sick girl, Courtenave, taking from his pocket a 
 small Bible, read, in a subdued tone, that simple but sublime 
 parable of the heavenly Teacher, 15th Luke, to the 7th verse. 
 
 Deep silence followed, broken only by the sobs of Elinor. 
 
 May be they were communing with their own hearts. 
 
 May be the recording angel was gathering up the repentant 
 tears. 
 
 Then the young follower of his blessed Master spoke of the 
 wondrous love that brought the good Shepherd from the bosom 
 of his Father into this wilderness world, to seek the one lost sheep ; 
 — of the tender touching compassion that went after it into the 
 dark, tangled, thorny brushwood of guilt and woe ; that sought, 
 with such unwearied patience and unchanging sympathy, the 
 wilful wanderer, and when He had found it, laid it on His loving 
 breast " rejoicing." 
 
 He then spoke of the Saviour now yearning over the guilty and 
 grief-stricken, and of the encouragement his life of suffering 
 sympathy, his death of agony, held out to sinners to cast 
 themselves wholly on his boundless mercy ; and kneeling, 
 he solemnly and earnestly pleaded with the " Faithful Promiser," 
 that through " the blood which cleanseth from all sin " the bles- 
 sings of pardon and peace may rest upon them, and that they 
 may be daily meetened for the " inheritence which fadeth not 
 away." 
 
 " Take off thy shoes from off thy feet, the place whereon thou 
 standest is holy ground" 
 
 " Where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am 
 I in the midst of them.'" 
 
 " I, even I am he that blotteth out thine iniquity, and will 
 not remember thy sin, saith the Lord; that hath coinjiassion on 
 thee." 
 
 " Come, now, and let us reason together; though your sins be as 
 scarlet, they shall be ivhite as snow ; though they be crimson, they 
 shall be as wool." 
 
 
 
AN EVERYDAY LIFE-PHASE. 55 
 
 Ministering angels have caught up the joyful news ; passing it 
 on and on, through all the shining ranks of heaven's hierarchy, 
 while the glory-vaulted arch reverberates as they sweep through 
 the pearly gates, and " there is joy in the presence of God over 
 one sinner that repenteth." 
 
 The guilt burden is rolled away from the broken heart of Elinor. 
 
 On Mary's wondering ear for the first time falls the touching 
 story of the Cross ; she mentally asks, "what new thing is this?" 
 and longs to ask Courtenaye to tell her something more ; but he 
 rose to depart, saying to Elinor, "I have brought you a favourite 
 hymn of mine ; will you try and commit it to memory ? and, 
 when you feel too weak to read, or cannot sleep at night, you 
 will find the repetition of it very comforting," and he placed 
 in her hand that pearl of hymns commencing, 
 " Just as lam, without one plea." 
 
 " Perhaps," he added, turning to Mary, " you would like a 
 copy?" and he held another towards her, which she took readily, 
 with one of her winning smiles, spite of her prejudices ; and 
 then the young evangelist, shaking hands with them, as a kind 
 brother may part from the sisters he loves, whispered in Elinor's 
 ear "do not forget, ' the blood of Jesus cleanseth from all sin,'" 
 and departed. 
 
 " Will you not come again very soon, sweet lady ? " asked 
 Elinor, grasping the hand of Mary as she rose to go, and holding 
 it in a nervous clasp as if she had a foreshadowing that it would 
 be long 'ere they met again. " Will you not pray for me, good 
 and pure and kind as you are, and all unworthy as I am of your 
 notice? Do come again soon." 
 
 Deeply affected, Mary promised, and left her. "While passing 
 through the room below, she observed several dainties, such as 
 tempt the appetite of the sick and delicate, had been supplied by 
 the kind-hearted young pastor ; and, musing profoundly, she went 
 her way on another of her missionary visits ; but she remained an 
 unusually short time with her next protege. She could not collect 
 her thoughts and talk in her old way about " doing the best we 
 can, and leaving the rest, etc." Her soul was stirred, and she 
 determined to hear more the next day from Elinor about this 
 *' new heresy." 
 
 Leaving her cottage much earlier than her wont, greatly to the 
 -chagrin of worthy old dame Lightfoot, who declared to her hus- 
 band when he came home from work, "that her dear youDg lady 
 
56 A LIFE-LONG STOR1*. 
 
 wasn't herself nohow ; she was more thoughtfuller and disturbed- 
 like than ever she saw anybody ; she only hoped for her part 
 that she wasn't a-going to marry that wild young feller the 
 captain, as people gave out she was." 
 
 Wending her way towards the hut of "Blind Sally," Mary 
 gently tapped at the door, and at the well-known command, 
 " come in !" she pulled the string and the latch new up, when 
 the colour came into her cheek as she met the mild eye of 
 Courtenaye, who rose from a low rude seat on which he had been 
 sitting, gladdening the heart of the sightless woman by repeating 
 some of the mercy-messages of Him who " opens the eyes of the 
 born blind." Retreating hastily, Mary said, "pray do not let 
 me disturb you ; I will call again." And with a strange feeling 
 of trepidation, slightly tinged with vexation, she gained her 
 sumptuous home, went immediately to her own room, and her 
 first act was to open and read his " favourite hymn." 
 
 Ah, Mary ! little did you imagine, when by the gushing music 
 of your song you chased away the brain spectres that maddened 
 the wronged Elinor, the young evangelist had listened enraptured 
 and that the song itself — the sad circumstances under which you 
 bright child of prosperity laid fashion's baubles by to minister to 
 the stray lamb, and sooth and cheer the wounded spirit of an 
 erring sister — had deeply moved his heart, and your name had 
 been borne aloft on the swiftly moving wings of prayer. 
 
 Ah, young shepherd ! little did you imagine that as you knelt 
 and prayed, and spoke of your blessed Master's compassion and 
 tenderness, a chord was struck in that noble heart destined to 
 vibrate through the countless ages of eternity. Little did you 
 deem that the flinty heart of one who stood without the lowly 
 room to listen, had been thawed ; and that hard woman, who had 
 scoffed at religion, and " didn't see what good would come of all 
 the praying, and preaching, and nonsense," now comes under the 
 softening influence of redeeming love. Repenting tears fall fast, 
 and from her smitten soul goes up the publican's cry, " God be 
 merciful to me a sinner."* Another jewel is added to his Master's 
 diadem, and again the jubilant anthem rings round the sapphire 
 walls of the golden city. 
 
 " My word shall not return unto me void, but shall accomplish that 
 ichereunto it is sent''' 
 
 How trifling, how insignificant to the limited vision of poor 
 
 * A fact. 
 
AN EVERYDAY LIFE-PHASE. 57 
 
 mortality seem those events and influences that are but hidden 
 means of mercy and grace ; and could we look for one moment 
 beneath the solemn veil that shuts out our view, what subtle and 
 mysterious fibres, what a gracious and harmonious series of links 
 in the golden chain of providence should we discover thrown 
 around, out-hedging, as it were, our every day life, and producing 
 results that no effort on our own part could have consummated. 
 
 For some time after Elinor was left alone she lay quite still ; a 
 holy peace rested on her girl-brow, in her hand she still clasped 
 the flowers, of which she appeared childishly fond, and which 
 seemed to possess a mysterious influence over her, as if thev had 
 been friends in some holier sphere ; her silky hair floated like a 
 bright cloud down her reclining head, and as she lay there in her 
 weakness and helplessness, thoughts of the " mortal putting on 
 immortality" swept through the gazer's heart. It was a touching 
 picture : the homely surroundings, the little humble bed, the 
 ministering flowers, the angelic beauty of the dying child whose 
 ransomed spirit seemed pluming its peace- wing for flight into that 
 world whose glory already overshadowed her face ; the frail, 
 fragile, sinking body realizing to the believer the life-giving words 
 of his Lord, "my strength is made perfect in weakness." 
 
 Suddenly, as if heart-pierced by a burning arrow, the striken 
 one starts up in the attitude of intense listening, the wild glitter of 
 insanity again scintillates in her eye ; stretching out her yearning 
 arms, she shrieked wildly, " I come, dear love, I come ! " and darts 
 to the open window. Oh God of mercy, in an instant, with a little 
 thrilling joy-cry, as if throwing herself into the outspread arms of 
 affection, she takes the dizzy leap ! One moment she flutters in 
 the parted air ; the next, lies a quivering blood-besprinkled mass 
 of mortality. 
 
 Poor child ! that fearful leap has not undone her clasp of the 
 flowers, and though their soft shining leaves are scattered around 
 — mute, mute preachers ! — her hand still grasps the delicate 
 stems. But forms gather round, cheeks blanched and energies 
 paralysed with terror, when through the first thickening crowd 
 flashes an aged man, and in a tone that will long haunt the 
 memory of those who heard it, he threw himself on the palpi- 
 tating body, and his smothered agonv burst forth in the deep cry, 
 "Oh, Christ!" 
 
 Still more paralysed at the terrible sight, theold man's grey 
 
58 A LIFE -LONG STORY. 
 
 hairs all dabbled in the blood of his beautiful grandchild, a 
 reality more like the imagery of some fearful dream than 
 aught on which the glad sun looked down and smiled, the 
 crowd gaped with white wonder and trembling limbs, but the 
 ministering spirit is on its way : in a few moments the town 
 missionary firmly but gently elbows his way to the fatal spot, 
 beckons to two or three of the stoutest, points to the moaning 
 old man, and with mild force they untwine those aged arms, while 
 he throws his coat over the bleeding form. Why should curious 
 eyes look on the mystery Death, in such a guise 1 and though 
 he knows this stern baptism is 
 
 M But the herald Jesus sends 
 To call her to his arms," 
 
 they know nothing of that murmur-silencing promise, " ichat 
 I do thou Tcnowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter" 
 Yet, why not ? There are eyes in that rude crowd from which 
 warm tears are falling, though crime and recklessness have well 
 nigh crusted over their crystal fountain ; strong hearts are 
 bowed, like that of early childhood, before the dreadful teaching 
 there. Why not ? 
 
 " Go ye into the highivays and compel them to come in." 
 YiHhile the dead body is lifted, with almost woman's gentle 
 care, by those rough-looking men, and borne away in their 
 sinewy arms ; and while the graceful limbs are once more tutored 
 into their olden symmetry, let us go with the missionary anu the 
 bereaved old man. They have laid him on his humble bed, and 
 by his side kneels the servant of God ; long those heart-rending 
 moans continue, and weary hours pass ere that dull ear can drink 
 in the words of comfort, or the oil of sympathy be poured into 
 the gap of that bleeding heart ; but at length, taking the almost 
 pulseless hand in his, the missionary bent his head close to the 
 old man's ear, and whispered, in soothing tones, " my brother, 
 shall I sing you the song that Elinor is singing now ? and he took 
 up the words of the majestic anthem, 
 
 " Worthy the Lamb that was slain ! " 
 
 As if these triumphant words had power to arrest the-fast waning 
 lamp of reason, the old man opened his troubled cloudy eye, 
 and feebly pressed the missionary's hand, who again took up the 
 strain : " These are they who came out of great tribulation t and 
 
AN EVERYDAY LIFE-PHASE. 
 
 have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the 
 Lamb, therefore are they before the throne of God, and serve Him 
 day and night in His temple ; and He that sitteth on the throne shall 
 dwell among them ; they shall hunger no more, neither thirst any 
 more, neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat, for the 
 Lamb that is in the midst of the throne shall jeed them, and shall lead 
 them to living fountains of waters, and God shall wipe away all tears 
 from their eyes." 
 
 A solemn hush followed : then, as if " blood," and "Lamb," 
 linked with the name of Elinor, were the only words the 
 flickering mind-light could trace on the dark blotted scroll of 
 memory, the smitten man, throwing his arms into the air, every 
 pulse in his wrinkled brow swelling with the intenseness of mental 
 agony, exclaimed, "yes, yes, they murdered my lamb! Look, 
 that's poor Daisy ! There — there all on the hard ground — blood on 
 her bright curls — blood on her pretty flowers — don't cry, Daisy," 
 and he motioned his hand, as if passing it over her young head as 
 he was wont to do in her early spring time, " don't cry, we will 
 go into the churchyard and gather flowers, plenty of bright 
 flowers, and king-cups there ! Quick, quick ! they are coming to 
 take you away again. There, there (soothingly), lay your poor 
 little head down upon my breast, and I will sing to you your 
 old baby-song ;" then, in a broken but not unmusical voice, the 
 old man repeated snatches of TVatts's immortal cradle hymn : 
 
 " Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber, 
 Holy angels guard ." 
 
 Suddenly breaking off, he shrieked wildly, "wipe away the 
 blood ! wipe away the blood ! look, look, they are killing her — 
 don't kill poor Daisy, she won't hurt you." Exhausted, he fell 
 back heavily ; and now the missionary, believing his mercy-errand 
 at a close, rose to take leave, taking the withered hand of the 
 poor broken hearted old man in his, again the kindly pressure is 
 returned : he opened his cloudy eye — the flickering lamp of 
 reason shot up one bright gleam, and looking wistfully into the 
 sympathizing face at his side, said, in a mournful voice, " why 
 has God forsaken me ? I gave Him all. I bowed my head 
 when he took my two stout boys, and her mother, and when 
 my poor wife was carried to the churchyard, I said " Thy 
 will be done." Why did he take my last lamb ? Oh, Daisy, 
 Daisy, my murdered child ! 
 
60 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 " Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth" whispered the mis- 
 sionary ; but the flame waned, quivered, flickered, shot up, died 
 away, and the lamp of reason went out. 
 
 Poor old grandfather ! 
 
 Kind woman cared for the lightning scathed oak, and sur- 
 rounded his misty life-path with creature comforts ; but never 
 more shall he listen to " the voice of the charmer, charm he never 
 so wisely." 
 
 Through the glad summer days he regularly sat beside the 
 light green hillock, where the early dead slept her uubroken 
 sleep — sometimes calling, in an excited voice, " make haste, 
 Daisy, or Lady Emily will come to take you away again !" some- 
 times murmuring snatches from the cradle hymn : 
 
 u Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber, 
 Holy angels guard thy bed!" 
 
 They won't take away your flowers and make you cry." 
 
 Mary had planted a beautiful rose tree on the child's grave, 
 which he tended with the most tender care, calling it M Daisy's 
 face," now caressing the smooth leaves, then wiping the dew 
 from the unconscious flower, and telling it "not to cry — her 
 tears burnt into his heart — they would soon be home." 
 
 And when the autumn winds sighed their mournful requiem 
 over the quiet sleeper, or ruthlessly scattered the roses' faded 
 glories on her grave, the old man went home to God. 
 
 Not returning at his wonted time they sought him at his well- 
 known resting-place, and again they bring him and lay him on 
 his lowly couch — he is passing away, and, as is frequently the case 
 in the dying hour, reason, though long banished, returns to the 
 very spot or circumstance from which she flew affrighted away, 
 so now her shattered and scattered rays are gathered once more 
 into a focus to meet the last foe. Oh, suggestive fact ! But 
 
 " Sinners in a dying hour 
 
 Need more than reason can supply.'' 
 
 Beside the old man kneels the young pastor, and as the dusty eye 
 rests on his disclosing consciousness, Courtenaye whispered, " let 
 not your heart be troubled, in my father's house are many man- 
 sions — I go to prepare a place for you." Grasping with his death- 
 dewed hand that of his faithful brother, the dying old man feebly 
 ejaculated, " I know in whom I have believed." He paused, and 
 Courtenaye added, " lo, I am with you always, even to the end," 
 
AN EVERYDAY LIFE-PHASE. 61 
 
 Another pause ; then, half musing, half repeating snatches of 
 olden memories and former readings, the dying man continued, 
 
 — " 'Twas a rough road sir, but the right one 
 
 can see it all in this light He doeth all things 
 
 well Poor child! 'The 
 
 blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin' 
 
 c All things well' ' Come, Lord Jesus' 
 
 ■ Hush, lie still and slumber.' .... 
 
 Foolish old man — too proud of 
 
 her beauty " 
 
 " Good bye, sir, God will reward you — let me kiss your hand," 
 and he drew the willing hand of his brother towards his rapidly 
 
 stiffening lip — "there, there all things 
 
 well coming, coming, Daisy! 
 
 hush, lie still ! 
 
 no more tears or crying coming, coming, 
 
 ' Lord Jesus, into Thy hands I commit 
 
 my ! " and with his eyes suddenly cleared from the mists and 
 
 shadows of age, and beaming with a strange bright, unearthly 
 light, as if reflected from the " glory about to be revealed," the 
 tired spirit glided softly away from earth, realizing the exquisite 
 picture of Milton, — 
 
 "A gentle wafting to eternal life." 
 
 Tenderly closing those mysterious orbs, Courtenaye folded his 
 arms on the humble bed, and wept like a child ; then casting a 
 long, lingering look on the quiet old face, from which all trace 
 of suffering had vanished, he fervently ejaculated, " my God, I 
 thank thee ! " and departed. 
 
62 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 Wfo is this (i outtenage ? 
 
 " Unlike the tim'rous creeds of popish priest, 
 *Twas frank, stood forth to view, invited all 
 To prove, examine, search, investigate, 
 Faith gave herself, a light to see her by." 
 
 POLLOK. 
 
 At the age of eleven Edward Courtenaye was hastily summoned 
 from school to receive the parting blessing of a mother to whom 
 he was tenderly devoted. This event and the memory of her last 
 words, as she placed her cold hand on his boy-brow, stamped 
 impressions no after events or time could obliterate ; they were 
 the spirit-fingers modelling his character. 
 
 The father of the youth had destined his son for " the 
 church," of which he nattered himself he was a M shining light," 
 being considered by some " sound " and " orthodox," though by 
 others simply an emanation of easy degrees and hard riding, 
 when the former came as "natural as life," and the latter "took" 
 the five-barred gate of preferment ; while not a few profanely 
 hinted that his acquaintance with learning, including his " cribs," 
 was, even for those times, wonderfully superficial, and that he 
 owed his wealthy benefice to his indefatigable appreciation of his 
 noble patron's election dinners, bad jokes, and worse politics ; 
 but of course we cannot answer for the veracity of these asser- 
 tions, and whether true or false, it was a startling announce- 
 ment to the reverend doctor when informed by his son, soon 
 after his leaving college, where he had been distinguished by 
 nobility of character and superior attainments, that after much 
 self-examination he had " decided not to take holy orders." 
 Feeling acutely for the disappointment this determination would 
 occasion his father, he entered fully into his scruples relative to 
 
WHO IS THIS COURTEXAYE ? 63 
 
 taking such an important step ; assuring him, that deeply feeling 
 his own need of a spiritual guide, and convinced of the respon- 
 sibility attached to the sacred office, he dared not declare in the 
 presence of " God and the congregation that he "judged" himself 
 inwardly moved by the Spirit to take the office upon him." 
 
 A few weeks previous, the young Courtenaye had witnessed 
 the ordination of a college acquaintance who openly avowed 
 Unitarian principles ; and was horror-struck when he heard him 
 solemnly declare himself " moved by the Holy Spirit," and saw 
 him seal his blasphemous declaration by receiving the Lord's 
 Supper. 
 
 For the first time the startled observer read over attentively 
 the ordination service; its solemn requirements and binding 
 oaths powerfully affected him, and his impressions deepened into 
 the full conviction that in his then frame of mind he would be 
 scarcely less guilty than the Unitarian in presenting himself as a 
 candidate for the office of " teacher sent from God." He could 
 not look upon the act merely as a step insuring an easv and 
 genteel living : his honourable nature spurned the thought. 
 "Whatever he undertook his whole soul must be thrown into, and 
 he would have felt self-condemned as guilty of an act little short 
 of dishonesty had he undertaken the duties of any office for 
 which he was not entirely qualified. - 
 
 "But my father/' suggested the young scrupler, "would you 
 entrust the management of a ship to a pilot ignorant of the sea ? 
 or the command of an army to a general who did not understand 
 the tactics of war ?" 
 
 " That's quite a different thing," replied the worthy father. 
 "I cannot see how your argument bears on your decision: a 
 pilot or a general failing in his duty would entail most disastrous 
 consequences, while your fancied inability could do no harm to 
 any one/' 
 
 "Not 'fancied,' my dear father. I feel I need a teacher 
 myself; and dare I otter a prostituted service, or bring strange 
 fire into the temple of the Most High ?" inquired his son. 
 
 " Nonsense ! nonsense ! When once you have taken orders, 
 and are safely installed in a comfortable living, which Lord 
 Advowson has promised to give you, all your crotchets will be 
 forgotten ; and who would know anything about your * prosti- 
 tuted service' and self-inflicted inability," sarcastically replied 
 the successor. 
 
64 A LIFE-LONG ST« »irr. 
 
 '*/ should, my dear father," meekly rejoinedjhis son; " and 
 what success could I hope for in my sacred office, feeling as I do I 
 Why should the profession you have selected for me be the only 
 one in which disqualification for its duties on the part of him who 
 undertakes them is no barrier to " 
 
 " Preposterous ! " emphasised the doctor, cutting short his 
 son's "crotchets" and "quibbles," and bouncing most un- 
 clerically out of the room. 
 
 We need not follow step by step all the arguments and reason- 
 ing wherewith he plied his son ; vainly he assured him that he 
 " took too serious a view of the ordination service," u was 
 maintaing a false position," ' ; was refining too much on the 
 meaning of * moved by the Holy Spirit,' " that " so much cau- 
 tion and self-examination were by no means necessary," that 
 u being duly qualified by a classical education and professional 
 examinations, all the rest would follow as a matter of course in 
 his ministerial career." 
 
 Courtenaye listened with profound attention, weighing well 
 every word ; but as arguments such as these were not calculated 
 to convince him, he remained firm, but sad. Many long days 
 deepened into night, and found the young inquirer poring over 
 books selected for him bv his father. How he groped for light, 
 and behold darkness ! He panted for heart work, but who ever 
 found that in the learned frigid dogmas and abstractions of the 
 schoolmen ! 
 
 Many a sharp rebuke for his " absurd ideas," " fanatical 
 notions." " enthusiastic folly," did he endure from the reverend 
 man, who, having completely failed in his endeavours to indoc- 
 trinate his son with a ready-made divinity, or an impromptu 
 " moving," tried one more effort more futile still. 
 
 Suffering deeply in mind for the defeat he had involuntarily 
 inflicted on his father by refusing to adopt the profession chosen 
 for him, Courtenaye steadily refused all invitations either to the 
 dinner, evening, or card parties prevailing to a most carnal 
 extent in the cathedral town of Exborough, where his distin- 
 guished appearance, handsome face, and elegant manners would 
 have ensured him a ready welcome, particularly from the fair por- 
 tion of society. In fact this majority of the doctor's very thin con- 
 gregation had alreadv decided on the advent of the "good-looking 
 Edward Courtenaye " as one of the curates at St. Benedict's, and 
 were only waiting with varied degrees of patience for the time 
 
WHO IS THIS COURTEXATE ? 65 
 
 when mothers and daughters should alike vie in their tender 
 attentions, and he would become a species of public property, a 
 promising speculation whereon to ''invest," in the shape of "need- 
 nots" and " what-nots " ad libitum, according to the prospect of a 
 rise or fall .in the foredoomed young curate's matrimonial thermo- 
 meter. It was even whispered — but [whispering is not always 
 reliable — that whole heaps of " evanescent bands," pot pourri 
 cushions, bead purses, Berlin slippers, " forget-me-not " book- 
 marks, anti-macassars, and useless crochet no end, were pre- 
 pared in readiness for the premeditated attack ; and that one bold 
 damsel, whose ultra high-churchism " doted upon the confes- 
 sional " and plenary indulgence, but highly disapproved of 
 clerical celibacy, rushed vehemently into the study of the dead 
 languages and the Fathers, in order to ingratiate herself with the 
 prospective curate. Nor was this all : although abhorring any 
 contact with humanity profaned by poverty, she had inflicted on 
 herself a class in the Sunday school, to which she attended with the 
 most disastrous activity, and for which sanctity she was self- 
 canonised and " verily believed " that she should " succeed at last." 
 
 In this threatening aspect of affairs the foredoomed ecclesiastic 
 received an invitation from a vouns; friend to visit him in Londor, 
 for a few months. Previous to his leaving home his father, for 
 the first time, imparted to him the fact before alluded to, that 
 unless he then consented to adopt the path chosen for him, he 
 must carve a maintenance for himself, as the handsome income he- 
 then enjoyed, " every shilling of which he lived up to," was 
 wholly derived from his living, and would M die with him," 
 strenuouslv ur^ins; his son to abandon his crotchets, and " count 
 the cost of such obstinacv" ere hefinallv decided. 
 
 This intelligence did not shake the resolve of Courtenaye. He 
 assured his father, in a respectful and affectionate manner, that 
 he had already " counted the cost " ere he ventured to disclose 
 his scruples of conscience, induced by nothing but a sense of his 
 utter unworthiness and unfitness to stand in the ranks of those 
 who were indeed '* moved by the Spirit." Then pleading for a 
 blessing, he entreated him to rest in the belief that it should be 
 his constant endeavour never to disgrace him in any profession he 
 may adopt. 
 
 Long after his departing footsteps had ceased to echo in the 
 hall, the reverend doctor sat in his easy chair pondering, and 
 confessing, spite of himself and his annoyance, that there was 
 
 p 
 
66- A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 something in the high-toned consistency of his son's actions 
 with his sentiments he could not help admiring, and that it 
 showed a strength of purpose and character, which would insure 
 success in whatever he undertook ; still he could not comprehend 
 or reconcile to his views, " how any young man in his senses" 
 could fling away a handsome living for a few scruples of con- 
 science, with which, after all, he had in reality nothing to do, 
 and which might have been overruled had he but listenecTto him. 
 Pity he should have taken such a crotchet into his head about 
 
 the ordination service, and being "moved by " Here he 
 
 paused. May be his thoughts flew back to the moment when 
 he proclaimed to the world his "inward moving," and he wonders 
 why he has never felt it since he was ordained ; may be he recol- 
 lects that he never had any misgivings when asked that searching 
 question, " do you think that you are truly called, according to 
 the will of our Lord Jesus Christ and the due order of this realm, 
 to the ministry of the church?" or recollects those still more 
 solemn words, " Son of man, ivhen I say unto the wicked man 
 thou shalt surely die ; if thou dost not speak to warn the wicked 
 from his u:ay, that niched man shall die in his iniquity, hut his blood 
 will I require at thine hand. ,y 
 
 Long the reverend man mused 
 
 "Your carriage, sir," announced a sleek lacquey, with a pom- 
 pous air, throwing open the study door ; and in another moment 
 away rolled the muser, reflections and all, half buried in the 
 inflated cushions of his luxurious equipage. 
 
 While in London, the melancholy that had begun to cloud 
 Courtenaye's mind deepened j he had neither taste nor inclination 
 to indulge in the scenes of frivolity and idleness that dissipated 
 the time and energies of his friend ; and he felt more than ever 
 alone amid the great and exciting realities of a London life, 
 where every face he encountered (save that of the stunted, 
 squalid, teeming progeny of our licensed crime cauldrons) wore 
 the impress of earnest concentrated resolve to push on to the 
 favourite temple, either of some modern Shinar or Moloch, in a 
 very delirium of covetousness, rivalling the soul prostration of 
 the " benighted" Hindoo, or the devotion of the worshippers of 
 " the great goddess Diana/' 
 
 Stirring and deep thoughts coursed through the mind of the 
 solitary young man, as, day after day he mingled with .but not of 
 
WHO IS THIS COURTENATE? 67 
 
 the world around him ; he panted for action — for some sphere of 
 usefulness whereon to play a part in life's mighty drama ; and 
 high above all came that ever restless yearning for some object 
 worthy of its own immortal nature whereon to lay the energies 
 of his soul. Perhaps there "were moments when he had some 
 misgivings as to the wisdom of the step he had so resolutelv 
 taken — he felt in his deepest heart that he would prefer the 
 pastor's office to any other ; but, again he shrunk from the 
 responsibility involved in the solemn declaration required in 
 the ordination service, conscious that he needed himself the 
 " Spirit's" teaching ere he presumed to undertake to instruct 
 others ; and though, probably, his feelings then originated rather 
 in his moral rectitude than in the deep convictions he afterwards 
 entertained of the sacredness of the office, he still suffered 
 severely. 
 
 Into the silent court of his own heart, often would his father's 
 arguments, like unwearied witnesses, reappear clamouring for a 
 verdict in favour of the False ; but he resolutely battled with the 
 insidious intruders : amid their fierce sorties his lonely heart 
 sometimes set up a yearning cry for maternal counsel : 
 
 " Oh, my lost mother ! could I but regain thy true and 
 tender guiding once more," he inwardly ejaculated ; and the 
 grasping grave gave back a phantom voice, and her last words 
 as she laid her cold hand on his boy-brow shone out on memory's 
 scroll with starry brightness, — 
 
 M In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and he will direct thy 
 path." 
 
 Surely her shade was commissioned to hover over his trying 
 path ! Her voice permitted to murmur from within the veil, 
 confirming the soul-strengthening promise, " are they not all 
 ministering spirits ?" The descending echo won the victory : 
 the child follows his sainted mother heavenward. "Was it still 
 her permitted influence — for thin may be, is the screen parting 
 the quick and the dead — that lured onward those lingering feet — 
 onward, till found wending with worshippers towards a temple of 
 the Most High ? We know not : 
 
 " God moves in a mysterious way, 
 His wonders to perform," — 
 
 but Courtenaye involuntarily followed them, and entered a large 
 well filled sanctuarv, where for the first time he knelt his heart at 
 
 p 2 
 
68 A LIFE -LONG STORY. 
 
 Mercy's footstool, and pleaded for the promised guidance with a 
 peaceful feeling to which he had long been a stranger ; and who 
 may paint his varied emotions when the text repeated his de- 
 parted mother's counsel, — " in all thy ways acknowledge 
 Him, and He will direct thy path." 
 
 With what a divine power did that prayer-heralded sermon 
 penetrate the listener's parched soul ! 
 
 Ah ! ye who try to diffuse the myth that the pulpit has 
 fulfilled its mission — the age outgrown its teaching — nullify first 
 the decree of Omnipotence, — 
 
 " I charge thee, therefore, before God and the Lord Jesus 
 Christ, preach the word : be instant in season and out of 
 season." 
 
 But tell us where that institution has proved its claim to rest? 
 Is it in Britain's main artery, the eye of Christianity, our queenly 
 capital ? Ask the City Mission, pointing to the foul burrows of 
 crime, aud ignorance, and want ; the fifteen thousand unvisited 
 streets and lanes ; the twenty-eight thousand open shops on the 
 holy sabbath ; the ninety-eight per cent, of immortal beings who 
 never enter a place of worship ; the obscene stage ; the licensed* 
 
 * " That which is morally wrong can never be politically right," was the 
 grand but now ostracised axiom of a great statesman. Was it in the light 
 of such teaching, or in that of the Great Lawgiver, when out of all our 
 metropolitan magistrates only fifteen could be found to vote against re- 
 licensing the Argyll Rooms ? All honour to the few ! But would either of 
 those dignitaries who thus caters for the destruction of another man's child 
 like to see his own daughter dancing, or his son " killing time" there ? 
 If not, be he who or what he may, he is unworthy the name of citizen — a 
 blot upon the great brotherhood. Talk of grappling with our "social 
 evil" when haunts like these are fostered by law ! Why the grappling is 
 just seizing on one of the topmost boughs of this monster tree, and swinging 
 to and fro thereon, while the great gnarled root is allowed to strike deeper 
 and hold firmer. Have those teaching letters in the Times don» no work ? 
 Surely, for consistency, if not for Christianity's sake, crime ought not to be 
 legalised as it is. Better the Queen's exchequer be empty than hell's 
 exchequer be full. A right-hearted peer, whose speeches are always 
 readable, tells us " Christianity is not properly the work of any 
 government.'' This remark may be correct, but whatever the work may 
 not be, there can be no doubt as to what it it. It is the duty of every 
 government to remove stumbling-blocks out of the way of the spread of 
 morality; and to cherish by its strong power every attempt made to rescue 
 our homes from pollution. 
 
 Docs not the thought suggest itself to every "thinker" in Christian 
 England that our "spiritual" leg'slators would bring more u glory to 
 
WHO 13 THIS COURTENAYE? 69 
 
 lazarettos for moral lepers ; the forty millions of money turned 
 into fire-water for burning soul and body ; the four acres devoted 
 to drunkards' graves ; the dressmaking and millinery shambles, 
 
 with their wholesale murders ; the madhouses \ the 
 
 but where shall we stop ? 
 
 Oh ! for more of those Puritan pulpit giants who stood thun- 
 dering upon crime 'till the lightning flash descended ; *> ho blew 
 the gospel trump like paladins of God's Jerusalem ! HarK ! the 
 strong tramp of their successors reacheth the ear, like the far 
 march of mailed succourers to a beleaguered city, and He who 
 enthroned preaching will emblazon it till its salvation messages 
 become a Pharos in the heart of troubled humanity, scattering 
 earth's moral darkness. 
 
 "Watchman, what of the night?" 
 
 " A cloud has arisen!'' "The windows of heaven shall be 
 opened, and a blessing shall be poured out, so that ye shall have 
 scarce room to receive it." 
 
 " I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men unto me." 
 
 But to return to Courtenaye : no longer does he " confer with 
 flesh and blood :" earnest and incessant were his wrestlings for 
 the Spirit's teaching. 
 
 His Bible, so appropriately termed by Wesley 
 
 u The judge that ends the strife 
 "When -wit and reason fail," 
 
 becomes the onlv star to his tremulous bark over life's surging 
 Atlantic. He comes thirsting to the living stream, and must 
 drink or die. Weary and worn, he laves his panting soul in this 
 mighty ocean of eternal truth horizoned by redeeming love, whose 
 depths no wisdom has plumbed, whose pearls no diver can 
 exhaust, yet whose waves ripple so gently on the shores of time, 
 that a child-hand may pick up the gems it strews around, and 
 deck its soul for the marriage supper of the Great King. 
 
 Hungering, he plucks and eats the leaves of this wondrous 
 nation-healing tree, whose topmost boughs bear fruit ripened 
 
 God" by attacking the root-form of our national sins than by gladiating 
 over a nine foot wall separating the last resting-place of " consecrated" 
 and " unconsecrated" sinners, or by vainly endeavouring to dam up the 
 streams of the " Water of Life," the only ' river" whose current is powerful 
 «»ough to cleanse our moral Augeans? 
 
70 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 beneath the rays of the " Sim of Righteousness" that can only 
 be tasted when the feet of the redeemed shall "stand upon the 
 sea of glass," yet some of the buds of which bend so near to 
 earth that a babe may gather, and eat, and live for ever. 
 
 Nights, that had left him poring over ancient books of ancient 
 men, who too frequently " obscured the fruit by the multiplicity 
 of their leaves,"' find him alone with this treasure ; " old things 
 are passed away : all things are become new." Hours, that had 
 been spent in sipping at streams which can never slake the soul's 
 thirst, find him now quaffing deep, rich, life-giving draughts from 
 the fountain head : " whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall 
 give him shall never thirst.'' No longer does the young student 
 grope by the sometimes scorching, sometimes quivering lamp of 
 human reason, but basks in the noontide ray of that " Light 
 ivhich lighteth every man that cometh into the world.'" 
 
 Heretofore bewildered bv contradictorv creeds, one telling him 
 he must believe this, and another that, or he cannot be saved, he 
 is now at rest, for he reads God's creed : " believe in the Lord 
 Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved." 
 
 Heretofore bewildered by man-made creeds, one telling him he 
 must do this work, and another that work, or he cannot be saved, 
 he reads God's creed : " thy work is to believe on Him whom 
 Go J the Father hath sent." 
 
 lie reads, too, "except ye be converted ye cannot enter into 
 the kingdom"' and this faithful mirror has shown him himself as 
 a lost, wrath-deserving sinner, who but for infinite compassion 
 and long-suffering had long since been cut down and cast away. 
 It is not for us to lift the veil and look too curiously on the mys- 
 terious dealings of Mercy with the immortal soul, the dark abyss 
 of anguish, the terrible temptations to despair, the billows and 
 waves that rolled over his head ere Calvary's love-light burst on 
 his young soul's troubled depths, and he could grasp and realize 
 the precious truth that " the blood of Christ cleanseth from alt 
 sin :" that the blood so meekly, so freelv. so lovingly shed was 
 shed for him ; but when grace youchsafed the view, grasping in 
 both arms of his faith the simple but sublime assurance " whoso- 
 ever cometh to me. L will in no wise cast out," he plunges intc 
 the "purple flood," the stony heart melts and becomes flesh, i 'Uh 
 unto the flesh of a little child, and behold, he is clean .'"' 
 " Of such is the kingdom of heaven." 
 Now he takes up the exulting cry of the cast-out Israelite 
 
WHO IS THIS COURTEXAYE? 71 
 
 " behold, I was blind, but now I see /" See an infinite fulness in 
 the merits of my Lord to cover all my sin, to supply all my need ; 
 strength under every temptation, comfort under every sorrow. 
 Now the wheels of life that had dragged so heavily, rotate with 
 power ; he is a " new man in Christ Jesus," hence new hopes, 
 new motives, new aspirations spring up, as the footsteps of 
 redeeming love leave their impress on the late desert of his heart. 
 Oh, he is free from the burning chains of the law ; but he seeks 
 to obey from a new impulse to obedience gushing up in his soul ! 
 He may not make his u works" a foundation whereon to plant a 
 ladder whose top shall ' press the celestial jasper, but they are to 
 be evidences of a li faith, working by love,'''' and bringing forth the 
 Spirit's fruits. " He who is of God, doeth the works of God" 
 Clothed in the 
 
 " Spotless vesture newly dipped in blood," 
 what has the young convert to do with the old robe of moralitv, 
 worn by thousands with such "touch me-not" exclusiveness, and 
 regarded as a self-sealed passport into the kingdom where dwelleth 
 righteousness ? He has been at the foot of the Cross with the 
 dying thief, the despairing publican, the forgiven Peter, the weep- 
 ing Magdalen, the repentant prodigal. What has he to do with 
 a robe of self-righteousness ? He is in his " right mind." " Old 
 things are passed away" 
 
 " Talk of morality ! thou bleeding Lamb, 
 The great morality is love to Thee." 
 
 Then comes a soft whisper into the fleshly heart of the young 
 convert, " why standest thou idle ? Go work in my vineyard." 
 Ah ! for this he pants — pants to tell to his brother sinner the 
 wondrous grace and love that found out even him, and plucked 
 him from the yawning gulf. 
 
 The Spirit's gentle moving is on his soul, and he asks in trem- 
 bling earnestness, "Lord, what ivould'st thou have me to eft) /"and 
 the reply comes, "go ye therefore into the highways, and as many 
 as ye shall find bid to the marriage" Ah ! 'tis for this he longs, 
 and yearns, and prays. The language of his love- softened, for- 
 given heart is 
 
 " O let me kiss thy bleeding feet, 
 
 And bathe and wash them with my tears ; 
 The story of thy love repeat 
 
 In every drooping sinner's ears ; 
 That all may hear the quick'ning sound, 
 Since I, even I, have mercy found." 
 
72 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 At this period of Courtenaye's history a nobleman, to whom his 
 high college attainments introduced him, offered him the tutor- 
 ship of his eldest son, about to set out on his travels ; few offers 
 could have been more congenial than this prospect of employ- 
 ment ; his frame had sympathised acutely with his mind's 
 anxiety, and the change promised at once health-restoration, 
 and an avenue leading to more extended future usefulness. 
 
 The young travellers were soon abroad, contemplating the 
 deathless creations of genius ; wandering amid the stirring 
 memories of earth's famous dead ; musing on spots whose very at- 
 mosphere breathed on the newly converted the prophetic teaching, 
 
 u He builds too low who builds beneath the skies." 
 
 They lingered long over the varied landscapes that enchanted 
 the dilated eye : the mountain peak, in its solitary grandeur, calm 
 above the thunder clouds belting its mid-way rise ; the laughing 
 valleys, whose streams mirrored the luxuriance of their flovver- 
 tesselated banks, reading in all around traces of Him who 
 " weighs the mountains in a balance" and " clothes the lily of the 
 field." 
 
 After some months thus spent, and as the touch of Autumn 
 fringed the woods with glory, we find our young friends pitching 
 their tent amid the faded grandeur of once imperial Rome ; and 
 few places could have fired the imagination more, or taught a 
 profounder moral lesson than this " Niobe of nations ;" while 
 her melancholy sensuous revelations served to strengthen their 
 affection for and faith in the grand yet simple teaching of the 
 Bible. The Bible ! Oh Rome, 
 
 M Hast thou ever heard 
 Of such a book ? The author God himself ; 
 The subject, God and man, salvation, life, 
 And death — eternal life, eternal death. 
 Dread words! whose meaning has no end, no boands. 
 Most wondrous book ! bright candle of the Lord ! 
 Star of eternity ! the only star 
 By which the bark of man could navigate 
 The sea of life, and gain the coast of bliss 
 Securely ! only star which rose on Time 
 And on its dark and troubled billows, still, 
 As generation drifted swiftly by, 
 Succeeded generation, threw a ray 
 Of heaven's own light, and to the hills of God, 
 The eternal hills, pointed the sinner's eye." 
 
WHAT DOES THE BABBLER SAT ? 73 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 u MM Does i\t §dkltt .Saif— preaching aui ^uacbim] ! 
 
 "Therefore let us not deceive ourselves, sermons and instructions that do not 
 jive us the knowledge of Jesus cannot be the daily bread and fcod of our 
 souls."— Mabti* Luther. 
 
 "England, with all thy faults I love thee!" exclaimed 
 Courtenaye, as after an absence of fourteen months he joyously 
 leaped on the shore of his mother-land. 
 
 There are some minds that, taking a broad sweep into the 
 diversified fields of knowledge, are apt in their expansion to lose 
 depth, but not so the mind of our young convert, having in 
 answer to his heart-cry, " Lord, what wouldst thou have me to 
 do ?" received the command, " feed my lambs," he rose, went 
 forth, and followed his Master, subserving his vast mental wealth 
 to this glorious employ ; and little recks it to which section of 
 His church he devoted his energies ; suffice it that vitalized by 
 the indwelling principle, every wish and effort of his great soul 
 was central to one. And oh ! what joy it was when in answer to 
 his fervent supplications he saw a sinner in contact with that 
 Master's cross. 
 
 Powerfully imbued with the scriptural conviction that all 
 different sections of christians who hold " the truth as it is in 
 Jesus" may individually unite in building up the spiritual temple 
 without sacrificing those non-essential points on which they 
 differ, the young pastor lived out his conviction, and laboured 
 incessantly for promoting unity among the fellow workers with 
 his Lord. In every movement for furthering the bodily or 
 spiritual improvement of the poorer classses ; at all gatherings 
 
74 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 for the furtherance of sacred interests or social principles ; 
 wherever sin, and sorrow, r.nd want left their grim footmarks, 
 there he sympathised, prayed, and succoured. He has drank 
 deep into the spirit of that loving command, "go ye into the 
 highways, and compel them," and he dares not wait, hoping the 
 stray sheep may return to the fold, or it may wander beyond the 
 greeen mercy-pastures into the enemy's land. He does not 
 hesitate, watching for the beaten pathway of ecclesiastical service, 
 but promptly turns into the wilderness of unsaved souls. What 
 has the soldier of the Cross to do with the cumbrous, useless 
 armour of unbending discipline and etiquette, or with the mists of 
 conventional religionism, when "the enemy is coming in like a 
 flood, and the avenger of blood is behind him ?" Shall a brother 
 perish for whom his Master died, because of some man-made 
 impediment I Away with the fallacy ! " By this shall all men 
 know that ye are my disciples if ye love one another." 
 
 Energized by this beautiful catholicity of principle, his eye 
 kindling with the light of love, onward the earnest evangelist 
 goes. Many a wandering sheep has been followed into the dark 
 brushwood of sin, brought back and laid on the breast of the 
 '* Good Shepherd" rejoicing, while new hallelujahs have rever 
 berated through the ranks of "the just made perfect." Many a 
 self-convicted soul has been brought to the publican's place of 
 penitential sorrow, with the great cry for mercy, after his solemn, 
 loving appeals both in his pulpit and in the " highway." 
 
 Not that the "preaching" involved any extraordinary doc- 
 trine. Courtenaye did not, like the the enemies of Luther, 
 '■'rend the Redeemer's robe at the foot of the cross." He did 
 not, like Julian of old, take down the statue of the Saviour in 
 order to substitute his own. He did not hold up a party 
 salvation for "his church," and much less did he hedge in, and 
 block up the way to heaven by ceremonies, creeds, monkish 
 superstitions, and piles of solemn rubbish. He reads on his 
 celestial map, " God hath given to us eternal life, and that life 
 
 is in " not baptismal fonts and confessional boxes, not in an 
 
 exclusive priesthood and a gorgeous ritual, not in orthodoxy or 
 in heterodoxy, but in — " His Sox." Hence he preached the 
 blessed old gospel, full, free, and for " whomsoever lieareth ana\ 
 believeth." He preached, we repeat, just the blessed old truth 
 proclaimed with such marvellous power by the full-hearted Paul 
 in the high court of idolatrous Athens, where "many believed on 
 
WHAT DOES THE BABBLER SAY ! 75 
 
 him beside Dionysius the Areopagite." Just the saving old 
 truth thundered by the undaunted Luther in the square at Wir- 
 temberg, at the echo of which the foundations of the Seven-hilled 
 Citv shook — the colossal power of the triple-crowned papacy 
 crumbled into dust ; ay, and whose vibrations still reverberate 
 through Protestant England, reminding her to hold fast the truth 
 that " the gates of hell shall not prevail against." 
 (; By faith ye are saved." 
 
 But when we affirm Courtenaye preached no "new" doctrine, 
 perhaps it may be said that he preached the old one with a 
 newer, deeper pathos, as a man sensible of the value of his own 
 soul, hence yearning for the salvation of the souls of others ; as a 
 " dying man" whose message to " dying men" their eternal 
 interest underlied— as a man u living to preach, and not preaching 
 to live." 
 
 He had an old-fashioned, happy way of writing in living 
 characters on the hearts of his hearers, the cheering truth that the 
 words of love and mercv spoken eighteen centuries ago, and penned 
 for our comfort and instruction by the hardy sons of the Galilean 
 lake — who took their degrees direct from the poor man's Christ 
 — were not a dead letter in which they had no interest, but blessed 
 truths as of but yesterday's utterance, so fresh, so gracious, so 
 beautiful. The experience of his own heart guided him to the 
 hearts of his fellow sinners ; all his messages of salvation went 
 out " perfumed with the love of Jesus ; " this he found to be the 
 magnet, and the only one powerful enough to attract and keep 
 close to itself the cold iron of the human heart ; this the only 
 lever potent enough to raise the sin-saturated heart into an 
 atmosphere of purify and moral healthfulness. Ah ! our churches 
 may boast of music, with its " poetry of sound ; " architecture, 
 with its " poetry of stone." There may be light falling artisti- 
 cally mellowed on the " poetry of art," but if the sublimest, the 
 sweetest poetry, the touching story of the Cross, * the story 
 without an end* which angels love to hear," be not the preacher's 
 theme, the heart remains untouched, " all lonely still." True, 
 there may be mechanical worship, gratification of the taste and 
 thrilling of the senses, but " with the heart man believes unto 
 salvation. ," 
 
 " If the child asks bread, will the father give him a stone?" 
 Even so, the heart asks spiritual food, and carnal things will not 
 fill it ; still less does it need abstract truths, critically and elabo- 
 
 
<0 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 rately propounded. It cares not about " orthodoxies" or u hete- 
 rodoxies ;" it understands not crude metaphysical speculations ; 
 it craves a resting place from beleaguering sin, sorrow, and temp- 
 tation, and the arid earth holds no pillow whereon the heart of 
 the sinner may fold its 'weary wing ; nought but the love of 
 Jesus can give this. 
 
 Here then, we repeat, lay the secret of Courtenaye's success ; 
 ever realizing his covenant relationship with his Master, he 
 preached not " his church,' but [Jesus Christ and Him cruci- 
 fied ; " hence vast crowds followed his ministrations in the 
 sanctuary, while many lingered about the entrance unable to 
 find room within ; and though truth compels the admission that 
 a great portion of his flock was poor and miserable, and the 
 sneering enquiry, " have any of the rulers believed on him" 
 might have been made in his day, as it was of his Master eighteen 
 centuries ago, yet even this disgrace increased his usefulness and 
 popularity ; many an outcast Magdalene, and despised publican, 
 entered into the kingdom, "loving much, because forgiven much." 
 Moreover, through his influence and exertions, shops once opened 
 on the holy sabbath with a God defying effrontery, were one 
 after another closed. The humanizing ragged schools, Bible 
 and other societies, found in the zealous pastor an untiring 
 advocate ; but while he worked and sympathized with all who 
 bore his Master's image, there was one object above all others 
 round which his compassions clustered, and that was the dis- 
 paraged City Mission, and into its holy cause he threw his 
 powerful energies, unflinching before the covert sneer or the open 
 ridicule. It presented to his expansive heart and prophetic 1 
 judgment, an aggressive and heaven-suggested instrumentality 
 for closing the doors of our prisons, penitentiaries, and licensed 
 resorts of crime ; a mighty barricade for arresting guilt in its 
 avalanche course, and rescuing the sinner from the " gnawing of 
 the worm that never dies," and in lieu thereof, leading those 
 wandering footsteps into the green pastures of pardon here, and 
 into the shining ranks of those who have already 
 
 " Trod the soft peace march on the everlasting hills." 
 
 Deeply respecting the world -embracing catholicity of its 
 spirit — to " know nothing of sects, parties, or proselyting, but 
 3imply to strive to make the wicked holy, and the vicious useful 
 members of society — to carry the gospel into every garret and 
 
WHAT DOES THE EABBLER SAT? 77 
 
 cellar, and beseech men to be reconciled to God," he laid this 
 society on his heart. 
 
 Look at yon felon peering his defiant eye through the cold 
 bars that shut him out from the light of heaven, and all the 
 gracious influences of human compassion, and sympathy j mark 
 the hardened grin, the sullen scowl, the gallows-stamped brow. 
 Ab, that * crime encrusted thing" once nestled in its holy sleep, 
 close to the hills of God, so close that the angels' songs lulled it 
 to its sweet repose, and the waving of their snowy wings guarded 
 it from ill; and now, what is it? — a mere affair of "mechanics, 
 chemistry, physiology and corruption?" Nay, that polluted 
 casket holds a gem which might have sparkled in the crown, to 
 wear which the Lord of Life swam through a sea of blood. 
 
 Look once again ! Nay, sicken not, 'tis thy fellow, and thou 
 must meet in 
 
 " That day for which 'all other days were made," 
 
 standing face to face ; speak a few kindly words. Ah ! does the 
 bleared eye kindle and moisten at the long-forgotten word, 
 " brother ?" 
 
 " He might have been .... 
 
 "What might he not have been, 
 
 That vice encrusted, crime befettered thing, 
 
 Had chiistian kindness sunned his vacant mind 
 
 "YVith beams of sacred truth ?" 
 
 Even in the stoniest heart there are subtle links connecting it 
 with the great family of Adam ; and though conscience has been 
 seared by the burning iron sin till it has lost its power, still there 
 are chords oi sympathy surviving the moral wreck, wanting only 
 the kindled sweep to awaken its buried melody. 
 
 Or, cast thine eye yonder, ye who rejoice in the holy tie of 
 wifehood and motherhood, " seest thou that woman?" That 
 woman at your very doors, all crime-polluted as she is, she too 
 once nestled on a mother-bosom, close to the hills of God ; so 
 close that their ravishing melody lulled her to repose, and she 
 smiled in her sinless sleep as the ministering angels whispered 
 stories of Bethlehem's Babe and manger into the little spirit-ear. 
 What is she now? Oh, mother, turn not away your eye loathingly ; 
 let sympathy for the sinner blend with reprobation of the sin. 
 Even a look of compassion for the fallen one may be the " small 
 
78 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 seed" destined to become a " great tree" ; a glance from the eye of 
 commisseration may win the lost one into the narrow road. Oh ! 
 pity, but j ndge not ! 
 
 " What though he be the lowest of the base, 
 Or she, thy sister, vilest of the vile, 
 Cast out as evil, loathed and spurned aside, 
 Speaks there no mercy in thine heart the while! 
 Thou knovvest not, what varying forms of ill, 
 Grief, want, temptation, may have fram'd her lot ; 
 Pause then, and till thou canst weigh these aright 
 Pity thy sister, help, but judge her not — 
 
 It may be that around her brow in youth 
 ~Ko fathers blessings, mother's prayers were shed ; 
 It may be that all foul and evil words 
 Were ever ringing in her ears instead. 
 Prest by temptation, evil counsels round, 
 Without one voice of God or Heaven to tell, 
 Helpless and hopeless, sickened wiih despair, 
 Is it much marvel that a sinner fell ? 
 
 If thou art Christ's, thou knowest the bitter strife 
 Of the new nature with the carnal will ; 
 Oft hast thou fallen ; oft disowned thy Lord, 
 Yet He reslored thee, and upholds thee still. 
 Thyself a pensioner at Mercy's gate, 
 Standing in grace vouchsafed thee from above, 
 Surely no word 9honld ever pass thy lips 
 Of others' errors, save in pitying love." 
 
 Go then, missionary mother, and tell thy fallen sisters the touching 
 story of the Cross ; point them to the mercy words, "woman* 
 has no man condemned thee ? neither do I condemn thee ; go 
 and sin no more," and if this will not melt off the chains of 
 hell, nothing will. The divine love-law must be the " sweet 
 constraint, that raises her sin-sick soul into a region of moral 
 healthfulness. Oakum picking, and tearing food with the 
 fingers,* and short allowance, and solitary confinement, and the 
 shorn locks,| and coarse official taunts, and virtuous-looking 
 
 * Of which more will be said hereafter. 
 
 fin a penitentiary, near which the author has been s'aying, it was the 
 custom, and it may exist still, to cut off the hair, and so overwork these 
 "unfortunates '' that they had no time for religious exercise; no visiting 
 minister or ladies to take any interest in them, and to encourage them in 
 the new and " narrow road." The author's informant, who had held a 
 
WHAT DOES THE BABBLER SAY ? 79 
 
 stand-bvism will never do any good, And who so meet to pour 
 the " oil and wine" of the gospel of pardon and peace into the 
 heart of woman, as woman I Who could so well deal with all the 
 delicate machinery of that mysterious world within itself? Who 
 could so tenderly bind the soft filament of sympathy round the 
 rents sin and suffering have made ? Oh, gentle should be the 
 plummet that seeks to sound its unfathomed depths ; and the 
 iron hand of Law will never reach them. It is your work, 
 Christian woman. Do not be robbed of your privilege. " The 
 fields are white to harvest."' Cast from you that simulation of a 
 thrice-winnowed purity which shrinks from looking these terrible 
 evils in the face, and forbids your seeking these sad " waifs of 
 womanhood," and influencing their entrance into some of those 
 mercy edifices for the cure of moral leprosy. Dash from you the 
 diseased sentimentality which finds vent in a cloud of sighs over 
 mock sorrows and mock wrongs, and go " bind up the broken- 
 hearted," pre-enjoying the blessed commendation " she has done 
 luhat she could." No longer ignore your God assigned position, 
 and limit the grand sphere of your influence. The mother-of- 
 pearl chariot Social Progression, though built after " the pattern 
 of heavenly things," still rotates heavily, and will do so till you 
 harness yourselves to its shafts. ft Come then, for all things are 
 ready." Seest thou that woman? Turns she an imploring eye 
 and trembling lip towards you ? "Pass not by on the other side. 
 "Who is thy neighbour I Is it not she who " fell among thieves " 
 who robbed her of her innocence, and left her wounded, helpless, 
 and unpitied? "Pass not by on the other side."' That one, 
 plucked from Satan's grasp, may be the small grain destined to 
 become a mountain. Your smile, your kind word will do more 
 to clear and cleanse our polluted highways than " move on !" mul- 
 tiplied millions upon millions. " Oh ! pass not by on the other 
 side. May be her departed mother is among the " angels sent to 
 minister" to the fallen one, and watching with intense eagerness 
 
 situation in the above-named institution, remarked, "If the poor creatures 
 went in ignorant they went out ignorant, and I am sure I should never 
 have become reformed in such a place." Surely this is not treatment to 
 make the erring in love with reform. Surely this is no gentle development 
 of gospel teaching, and if these poor creatures were real penitents on the 
 falling of the first repentant tear, there " was joy in the presence of God'' as 
 their load of crime was sunk in " the srreat red sea of the Saviour's blood?" 
 How then can a committee of sinners presume to perpetuate the memory 
 of their crimes by punishing the poor perishing body for sins of the will. 
 
80 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 the bent of your mother-heart, the glance of your wife-eye. Let 
 there be "joy in heaven over the repenting sinner'' through your 
 instrumentality now. May be, the striving of the Great Spirit is 
 on you as these simple words arrest you, for " foolish things are 
 often chosen to confound the wise :" quench it not. "Will you 
 stand in cold indifFerentism, and see all the glory-work done by 
 other hands ? Will you turn an adder ear to the voices abroad in 
 the earth ? Nay, will you not walk in the footsteps of Him who 
 never broke a bruised reed ? Ah ! if you will not come when 
 "all things are ready," how shall ye meet Him for whom you 
 you have done so little, when He did all for you ? 
 
 " It is said, that in one of the mummies found in a pvramid a 
 bulbous root was discovered, which, on being placed in the earth, 
 bloomed and bore a beautiful but unknown flower," thus, in the 
 human heart, apparently dead to all healthful influences, there is 
 one seed blown from the heavenly garner by the breath of the 
 Spirit, and it waits but the kindred touch, when it will expand and 
 bear a bright flower, all unknown before amid its arid and sterile 
 depths. 
 
 Oh, sympathy ! thou art the true heart-logic that no subtle argu- 
 ment, or profound reasoning, or lucid deduction can teach ; 
 thou art not meek eyed pity, nor silver-voiced kindness, nor open- 
 handed charity, but an exquisite concentration of the trinity in 
 unity. 
 
 Beautiful Bird of Paradise ! many a frozen heart has melted 
 under the brooding of thy warm breast, and many a crushed 
 spirit has kindled under thy beaming eye that would have been 
 cast on the bleak shores of despair, to mourn and die unpitied 
 and alone. 
 
 At the advent of our zealous young pastor in the flourishing 
 and populous town of D , the said mission was at a dis- 
 count. The Anglo-Popish party threw frozen water upon it 
 because it was another "dissenting affair," and the people, innocu- 
 lated with the gold epidemic, copied their spiritual teachers, and 
 " cared for none of these things." 
 
 At the first public meeting, where his voice pleaded in aid of 
 its slender funds, its supporters consisted of the excellent 
 minister from the "parent society" — and two others, of different 
 denominations, amounting (including the town missionary) to 
 four followers of the first Divine Founder of missions, on 
 
WHAT DOES THE BABBLER SAY ? 81 
 
 the platform, and about twenty-five or thirty persons in the 
 town-hall. * But in a short time his self-denying labour and 
 prayers met their reward, and he had the satisfaction of seeing a 
 warm interest spring up — the small heterodox seed became 
 "a great tree, so that the fowls of the air may lodge in the 
 branches thereof." Laying aside all petty sectarian feelings — 
 all minor man-made differences of creed — and standing upon the 
 grand catholic basis of that unmistakeable Scripture, "ye are all 
 the children of God, by faith in the Lord Jesus" the ministers 
 of the various denominations followed the example of the young 
 teacher, and heart-cheering was it to see the great increase of 
 supporters at the next meeting. 
 
 The fruit of that gathering was seen in many a dying eye fixed 
 on the sinner's Friend ; many a widow's heart leaping for joy, 
 many a meal in the wretched hut, where small white faces peered 
 anxiously at the almost forgotten loaf; many a son and daughter 
 of vice and wretchedness reclaimed ; many — but all the fruit of 
 that gathering will only be seen at that tremendous gathering 
 "when the dead, small and great, shall stand before the great 
 white Throne, and men shall be judged according to their 
 works." u Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of 
 these, ye have done it unto me." 
 
 Few things showed more entirely the singleness of Courtenaye's 
 purpose in the good cause than his large-heartedness ; not even 
 the dark shadow of bigotry rested on his noble soul ; every man 
 who loved his Master was his brother — no matter by what name 
 known among men ; he read in his Bible of many " churches" on 
 
 * A fact which occurred lately in the populous town of C , favoured 
 
 with four resident clergymen. A few days subsequently a •' lecture on the 
 Arctic regions'' was delivered (how suggestive:) when not only the same hall 
 was crowded to excess, but the talented lecturer was supported by a large 
 body of these reverend gentlemen ; and since that time a futile attempt has 
 been made to turn out the good missionary on the plea that " the church" 
 was not fairly represented. Ah ! if men were half as anxious that the one 
 true and only scriptural church — the church of Jesus Christ — should be 
 u fairly" represented, we should soon see a different order of things, and not 
 Satan's kingdom so fairly represented as it is. Surely we want a staff of 
 thorough Jesus Christ's men, whose pass-word should be "peace and good- 
 will" to all, not to a favoured few, which, as in the case referred to, the 
 unholy excrement of party zeal has stirred up strife and rancour, that all 
 who are in earnest for the salvation of others must deeply deplore. If men 
 M will do the works of God," will cot the doctrine soon be known whether 
 it is His or not ?" 
 
 G 
 
A LIFE-LOXG STORY. 
 
 earth, bat only of one in heaven, a description of which is given 
 by the Great Head himself — an assembly " who have washed 
 their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb ;" 
 and as singing their new song, "thou wast slain, and hast 
 redeemed us to God, out of every kindred, and tongue, and people 
 and nation." He can see but one distinctive mark there — 
 ' icashed in the blood of the Lamb !" Dares he make distinction 
 where his Master has made none? Dares he ;lay "any other 
 foundation than that is laid" for a title to heaven, or place a 
 man-made rite before the Cross, trifling with the salvation of 
 souls for whom his Master died ? 
 
 And at last the Citv Mission flourished. Scintillatine; with 
 beams reflected from the Sun of Righteousness it became a great 
 rock, against which the rude waves of bigotry and prejudice, and 
 sectarianism beat in vain, rolling back in hoarse discordant 
 murmurs. It remains firm, for its foundations are in the ever- 
 lasting hills. 
 
 The little slip becomes a great tree, watered by the dew of 
 heaven : 
 
 It cannot die, and shall not be destroyed. 
 
 " Like the stately palm in deserts and burning sands, no spot 
 too barren for the glorious tree, for, dig down deep, and its roots 
 are floating in pure crystal waters." 
 
 "Who among us shall estimate the mightiness of that power so 
 finely termed "moral electricity " — influence? TVho among us 
 has weighed it in the balance of the sanctuarv ? "Who dares sav 
 " I have none :" Mother, a dewy eye at thy knee watches for 
 thv reply. " Mamma, why did God let little Johnny die ?" 
 
 Child, thy bright mother bends over thy tiny form in its 
 sleeping beauty to print a holy kiss. Startled, thy wee waxen 
 fingers close softly over her jewelled hand. Mute appeal ! Can 
 she leave this soul to be moulded for immortality to a stranger's 
 care? The diamond wreath is on the ground. Hours, 'erst 
 devoted to the " dance and the viol," now bear the incense of 
 prayer on their swiftly-moving wings. The heart of the strong 
 man, too, is bowed. Behold, he prays. " Despise not the day of 
 small things." Seconds are in league with Eternity ! 
 
HETERODOXY. 83 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " "Cnder which head is to be comprehended those characters and actions 
 standing out in bold and bright relief from the common mass, attracting and 
 influencing not only their own age but ages yet to come." 
 
 The preceding chapter, dear reader, chronicles some of the "fine 
 doinss among the saints" and " new-fangled notions" introduced 
 
 into "the good town of D , of which our old acquaintance 
 
 Dr. Grenville has been so lucid an exponent ; hence, with his 
 stunted, one-eyed views, it will excite no surprise when we say 
 that he hated the author of them, " that meddling methodistical 
 jackanapes Courtenaye," with no small amount of rancour, and 
 that he looked upon his teachings as pretty nearly synonymous 
 with cold soup or hard claret, somewhat difficult of digestion ; he 
 had, moreover, a not uncommon way of applying the opprobrium 
 " methodistical," considering it the apex of cant, vulgarity, and 
 ignorance, to any and everything savouring of religion on a week- 
 day, whether in asking a blessing on daily food, or attending a 
 missionary meeting. Like many more of his stereotype, the doc- 
 tor never" troubled himself by inquiring wherein the u vulgarity" 
 of the "new-fangled" teaching lay ; and though most certain it is 
 that frequently, after a florid discharge of his disgust, when some 
 unlucky wight remarked in his presence on the reclaiming of a 
 drunkard, the restoration of a fallen woman, or the convictions of 
 some aged sinner through the instrumentality of the young pas- 
 tor, he" felt an uncomfortable sensation about that mysterious 
 region conscience, which might have been translated "is it well 
 with thyself?" yet he did not hate the cause of this sensation, 
 "that canting knave, Courtenave," one whit the less ; but while 
 
 g 2 
 
84 A LIFE -LONG STORT. 
 
 the " canting knave" respected all sections of the church, labouring 
 with whomsoever did his Master's work, and " leaving the rest to 
 be settled in heaven," he did not "belong" to that highly influential 
 and numerous portion of it, therefore had no right to the name 
 " methodist" thrust on him so unceremoniously by Dr. Grenville, 
 who, for reasons to be developed, his dissipated son had indoctri- 
 nated pretty freely with u the goings on in the town." Perhaps 
 few things could have better demonstrated the fact than his vitu- 
 peration, that this one-idead man had never read a line penned by 
 that faithful apostle to whom the sleeping piety of a marvellously 
 apathetic age owes its awakenings, for, in truth, he knew about 
 as much of the doctrine Wesley, happily for Protestantism, resus- 
 citated, as he did of the Vedas of India, or the Laokuin of China, 
 while it is more than probable that the persecution and intole- 
 rance of the genteel party, of which he was a somewhat ultra 
 
 specimen, was considered by his disciples in the town of D 
 
 as rather a matter of self-gratulation than otherwise. Be that as 
 it may, they neither prayed less or became fewer ; and here, as 
 the circumstance appeals emphatically to the fair sex, we beg 
 pardon for introducing a highly suggestive illustration of the 
 effect the dissemination of these "dangerous principles" produced. 
 Once upon a time, in a rabid state of consternation lest the teach- 
 ing of Wesley should get ahead, certain parties determined to 
 carry a whole waggon load of the " new heretics" before a magis- 
 trate, to answer for their conduct ; accordingly, a pretty fair 
 sample was huddled together like cattle, and dragged before the 
 
 magisterial presence of Mr. S ; but when asked by the 
 
 worthy man (who was~evidently very "slow," and not up to his 
 work) " what they had done 1 " a deep silence ensued. This was 
 a stand-point their accusers had never contemplated in their en- 
 thusiastic tilt against the "new heretics;" thereupon a good 
 deal of pleasant confusion and suspicious whispering took place. 
 
 " What have they done ?'" again demanded the magistrate 
 emphatically, " they must have done something to be dragged 
 here." 
 
 Another pleasant pause, when seeing their case about to be 
 dismissed, with costs, one of the Progressionists, in the shape 
 of an old man, pushed forward by his despairing party, ex- 
 claimed, in trembling accents, 
 
 " Why, sur ! why, sur ! they portends to be betterthan other 
 people, and be a-prayin." from mornm' till night." 
 
HETERODOXr. 85 
 
 " But have they done nothing beside this ?" demanded Mr. S — . 
 
 A third pleasant confusion, and a breaking-up was apparently 
 inevitable, when the old spokesman was again edged forward, 
 and, with tears in his eyes, exclaimed : 
 
 " Yes, sur, an' please yer wurshup," they 've convarted my 
 wife!" 
 
 " Convarted your wife ! " said his innocent worship, u what do 
 you mean by that ? " 
 
 a Why, sur, do ye see, before she went among them 'ere 
 f eretics,' she used to go a swearin' and a hollerin' about the 
 house lik a mad ooman, and now she's as quiet as a lamb." 
 
 " Carry them back ! carry them back ! and let Mr. "Wesley 
 1 convart' all the women in the county !" shouted the worthy 
 magistrate. 
 
 Now evidently our friend the doctor had not in imagination 
 followed this working disciple of his working Master into the 
 black pits of ignorance and infamy among the colliers in Kings- 
 wood and in the mines of Cornwall, and heard him, amid insult- 
 ing ribaldry and brutalized intolerance, meekly and tearfully 
 beseeching men to be " reconciled to God." Evidently he had 
 never thought of his eighteen thousand converts from the power of 
 sin and Satan unto God, and his forty thousand sermons ; his weary 
 rides and painful walks on his mercy mission, 'mid summer heat 
 and winter cold, 'mid ovations of stones and peltings of mud. 
 These were facts, and facts the doctor had no great reverence for. 
 
 The painful event recorded in our sixth chapter produced a 
 powerful impression on the minds of all parties in the town of 
 
 D , and as the faithful ministers of the gospel, ever on their 
 
 watch towers to proclaim in the city " what of the night," seized 
 the terrible warning addressed to all alike, aged or young, con- 
 verted or unconverted, "'Prepare to meet thy God ! " 
 careless souls were arrested ; the undecided clave to the little 
 flock, and at midnight, from many smitten hearts the cry went 
 up, "Lord, save ! or I perish ." 
 
 " God moves in a mysterious way 
 His wonders to perform." 
 
 Perhaps no one had felt the death of the poor girl more 
 intensely than our old acquaintance, Mary, to whom a simple cir- 
 

 * ~ '■ ■" UM 9ME 
 
 I 
 
 

 
88 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 that Mary was not quite herself, " I am sure you will ever sym- 
 pathise with the right and the true ; but wifey will take up the 
 initiative," he continued in a gay tone, " and lecture me for not suc- 
 ceeding better in my self-imposed diplomacy, what am I to say ? " 
 
 " Tell her it would give me pleasure to comply with her wishes, 
 but I could not be ready by seven, for though we dine an hour 
 earlier than usual, because Sir Henry has such a long drive to reach 
 
 home, it would scarce give me" she stopped as if considering 
 
 the practicability of yielding to a very secret and subtle desire she 
 felt to hear once more the tones of that magnificent voice whose 
 echo lingered in the corridors of her memory, spite of her 
 orthodoxy and school prejudices. 
 
 u If you think you could be spared we would wait until a 
 quarter past seven for you ? " Leslie enquired. "It is one of our 
 old fashioned crochets always to be in our places before the ser- 
 vice commences, but I will wait for you this evening if you 
 think you can possibly accompany us. May I tell Julia 'Yes V " 
 
 " I think perhaps I could be ready by a little after seven. Do 
 you all walk ? " Mary asked. 
 
 "We do generally," replied Leslie, "but if you wish it I 
 will have the horses put to, and we will drive to church." 
 
 " By no means," replied Mary, " the distance is so trifling ; if 
 you will kindly be here a little after seven I will with pleasure 
 accept your escort." 
 
 " And, of course, you will remain the rest of the evening, and 
 send your new music ? " Leslie enquired. • s< 
 
 " I will remain," she answered, " but Julia's music will be suffi- 
 cient ; I have scarce sung a line the last ten days, and have 
 nothing new." 
 
 '* That will never do," remarked Leslie, "you must not neglect 
 your music and singing ; Fred declares your rendering of 
 ' Must I leave thee,' makes him feel just as he did some dozen 
 years ago, when his mother left him with his eyes full of tears 
 at school after the long holidays ; and Courtenaye says yours is 
 the sweetest voice he ever listened to, and he is passionately 
 fond of music ; but pray do not blush so bewitchingly — you are 
 a true woman — not insensible to admiration I see." 
 
 " If I did blush," Mary remarked, feeling all the while terribly 
 guilty, "it was for you; how could you get up such a ready 
 made compliment, and stand proxy for Mr. Courtenaye, who 
 has never heard me sing." 
 
HETERODOXY. 89 
 
 u Has he not ? Well then, he or Fred must be the impromptu 
 story-teller, for I am sure I heard the latter say so ; at least, I 
 believe I did." 
 
 Mary remained, some time after Leslie left, in deep thought. — 
 Where could Mr. Courtenaye have heard her sing ? Why should 
 he have named it to Fred Leslie ? Then she takes a retrospective 
 glance of the heaps of black-coated, white-gloved nonentities who 
 have surrounded her, when at the piano, for the last three 
 months ; but she is sure his quiet face was not among them, and 
 concludes,- very unwilliDgly, that M there must be a mistake 
 somewhere. " 
 
90 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 pbe*s jivst Batox. 
 
 1 For Prejudice had been in truth, 
 An antiquarian from his youth, 
 And any rubbish, so 'twas told, 
 To his chaotic hoard he rolled." — Lacon. 
 
 Sir Henry Woodford admired Mary exceedingly, and would 
 have laid his warm heart and affluent fortune at her feet, but his 
 years more than twice doubling hers, he thought, with the 
 sensible song, that 
 
 "May and December could never agree."' 
 
 " If I were forty years younger, I would not bring into the 
 lists a faint heart to contend for so fair a prize !" saicrhe gaily, 
 as Mary rose to bid him farewell, soon as politeness sanctioned 
 her doing so : and, in truth, never had she looked a " fairer 
 prize" than at the moment when she gracefully withdrew her 
 hand from the admiring baronet, exclaiming, "You must not 
 learn to flatter me, dear Sir Henry, or I shall lose one of my best 
 friends!" and passing over to her father's side, she printed a kiss 
 on his forehead, and said, " I am going to-night with the Leslies 
 to hear Mr. Courtenaye, dear papa, if you can spare me, and re- 
 main the after-evening; with them ; you remember vou gave me 
 leave some time since, but I have never availed myself of it ?" 
 
 " There you go ! Courtenaye again !" exclaimed the docto 
 good-humouredly (after dinner being always his best time), "I 
 have a good mind to say you should never step inside." — 
 
 " Hush ! hush ! darling papa," whispered Mary, placing her 
 palm playfully before his lips, " don't 4et Sir Henry see what a 
 spoilt child I am," and looking towards the latter, she pleaded, 
 " Do, dear Sir Henry, take my part !" 
 
LOVES FIRST DAW>\ 
 
 91 
 
 " Let her go ! let her go, Grenville !" said the baronet in a half- 
 remonstrating, half-beseeching tone; "you may trust her any- 
 where ; ' to the pure all things are pure,' you know !" 
 
 "Well, then, for this once, saucy face!" replied the doctor, 
 tapping her on her flushed cheek, "just to oblige Woodford, but 
 mind, don t come home canting texts of Scripture on all occa- 
 sions in support of your vagaries, or by George I'll lock you 
 but she was gone. 
 
 " What an angelic creature she is !" exclaimed Sir Henry. 
 
 "Well enough!" grunted the doctor with a pleased look. 
 " What do you think of this wine ?" and he tried to look 
 through a glass of Madeira, that would have rivalled the cele- 
 brated Falernian, and have set monkish lips a-longing. 
 
 "Excellent!" was Sir Henry's curt reply, for his thoughts 
 had followed the winning vision that had just departed. 
 
 Henry Leslie met Mary, accompanied by a footman, hastening 
 towards* his house ; and taking her arm under his, he said, " We 
 are in excellent time, but Julia and Fred did not wait, because 
 they were not sure of the pleasure of your company." 
 
 "Does your brother always accompany you on Wednesday 
 evenings ?" asked Mary. 
 
 "Yes, and there is generally a majority of young men at these 
 lectures, and I like to 'see it ; 'i wish all ministers would preach 
 once on a week-day; and if they make their message worth 
 heariug they will never want hearers." Leslie replied. 
 
 " But do you think, as a general thing, if all churches were 
 opened for p'reaching in the week they would be as well attended 
 as that of your friend Mr. Courtenaye?" demanded Mary. 
 
 "I have' no doubt of it whatever/' answered Leslie, "and the 
 best proof is, that wherever the custom has been adopted by any 
 denomination of Christian ministers, the success has been signal ; 
 and no wonder" he added with seriousness, "that those who are 
 travelling the c straight and thorny road,' should rejoice to find 
 a halting-place amid life's cares and sorrows, where they can for 
 a few moments escape from them, and take a fresh view of 
 heaven's glories, thereby gaining strength for the race." 
 
 Mary "scarcely understood what the terms "straight road" 
 meant, 'but she remarked, " It would seem that all men have not 
 your Mr. Courtenaye' s persuasive eloquence, or why are so 
 
92 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 many of our churches empty even on Sundays, and so much 
 preaching to empty benches V* 
 
 " All men may not possess Courtenaye's eloquence, but all 
 men have the same Gospel to proclaim to their congregations ; 
 and I believe that, just in proportion as they preach that, their 
 ministry will be blessed, and no farther. The crying want of the 
 age is a really spirit-moved ministry — men feeling their own 
 strength, and therefore able to make others feel it," Leslie 
 answered. 
 
 " There appears to be more bickerings and worldliness than 
 ever among religious professors, and really, instead of the 
 heathen testimony to the power of truth, ' see how these 
 christians love one another,' the remark would be sadly just, 
 1 see how these Christians hate one another,' " Marv observed. 
 
 "Yes," answered Leslie, "your remark is too true; and 
 if, instead of men wasting their strength on puny discussions over 
 childish superstitions, calculated to lower the dignity of their 
 office, and bring their teaching into public contempt, we had a 
 ministerial brotherhood, who, having caught the loving spirit 
 of their Master, yearn with passionate sympathy to 
 " Clasp the universe and keep it warm," 
 
 we should soon see the genial flowers of love and peace put forth 
 their beauty, unnipped as they now are by the bitter blasts 
 of sectarianism and controversy." 
 
 Mary made no reply ; perhaps she did not hear — for they 
 drew near to the church — and, with all her efforts, she could 
 not keep her heart in its normal beating ; it would go fast. 
 
 The service had just commenced, and they had to push their 
 way towards Leslie's seat, Mary being utterly surprised at the 
 still-increasing congregation. It was novel to her to see every 
 available post or corner, or aisle, filled with an attentive face, 
 while numbers thronged the entrance unable to enter. 
 
 There is ever a solemnity waking deep emotion in the sight of 
 a vast multitude obeying the will of an orator, as a wood waves 
 to the controlling breeze ; and Mary— all unprepared for such a 
 scene — clung to Leslie's arm, every pulse thrilling as the rich, 
 deep tones of Courtenaye commenced that beautiful hvmn 
 of Hart's— 
 
 " Come ye sinners poor and wretched, 
 Come ! 'tis mercy's welcome hour, 
 Jesus ready stand* to save you. 
 Full of love, and full of power." 
 
love's first dawn. 93 
 
 But her emotion deepened as the words, borne aloft by hundreds 
 of voices in well-tuned harmony, swept afresh over her heart, and, 
 unable to control her feelings — already overtaxed by haste and 
 excitement— tears fell fast on the book she held, while Mrs. 
 Leslie anxiously enquired if she was " not well." 
 
 Assuring her she was " quite well ; only a little stupid ; and it 
 would go off directly," Mary struggled to repress her feelings, 
 and after a few moments her gifted voice was mingling with the 
 others in this beautiful overture of redeeming love. 
 
 Courtenaye preached from " We pray you in Christ's stead be ye 
 reconciled to God," and the earnestness with which he pleaded his 
 Master's cause, convinced his hearers that he was powerfully 
 impressed, not only with the vast importance of his sacred work, 
 but also felt the presence of Him who " Where two or three are 
 gathered together" in His name is in their midst ; and he urged 
 them by all the solemn realities of a fast-coming eternity to close 
 with the offers of mercy "While it is called to-day," and to hide 
 themselves in the cleft of the smitten Rock ere the hurricane of 
 wrath swept over the impenitent and unbelieving. 
 
 He dilated on the wondrous love of the Father that " spared 
 not His only Son, but freely gave Him up for us all, even while 
 we were yet sinners," enforcing in \ all its universal freedom 
 and amplitude the complete justification of the repentant sinner 
 in Him ; and when he dwelt on that precious and perfect 
 sympathy with the sufferings and sorrows of humanity, which, 
 from the manger, with its helpless moan, to the cross with its cry 
 of desertion, was the burden and passion of the Saviour's 
 existence, rough hands dashed away the stranger-tears, gracious 
 influences stole into granite hearts, — hearts that haply " went to 
 mock, but remained to pray," and as Jesus of Nazareth went by 
 in mental view many a leper cried out, "Son of David, have 
 mercy on me /" 
 
 Ever remembering the dark prison where his own soul lay 
 chain-bound, ere the angel struck off his fetters, the preacher 
 never launched^ the fiery reproof or bitter accusation against his 
 brother sinner, knowing man could neither be lectured out of 
 Hell nor terrified into Heaven ; hence he argued, as man to man, 
 " subject to like infirmities," " Why will ye die ?" 
 
 But while he felt the tenderest concern for the sinner, he did 
 not "prophesy smooth things" for the sin : he never hesitated to 
 unmask hypocrisy, or to warn of false confidence : he quailed not 
 
9-4 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 before pride or rank, nor stood abashed before power or talent ; 
 he had a message from God, and he would deliver it, despite 
 men and devils. 
 
 Mary was delighted, as well as surprised, at the close of the 
 service, to observe the reciprocal feeling existing between Cour- 
 tenaye and his flock, among whom he did not move as some 
 mysterious ideal — some lesser deity too far removed from every- 
 day life, to hold sympathies in common with those around him, 
 or a choice mediaeval stained glass among household pots and 
 pans. He had a ready smile and a word of exhortation for the 
 young ; a shake of the hand and an encouraging precept for the 
 grown. 
 
 To a frail form, whose tottering tread told of "three score 
 and ten," he offered his arm, and placed her in her wheel-chair, 
 with the respect and tenderness of a child. Ah ! he knows the 
 aged one has recently buried her only son, and that this is 
 her first absence from her desolate hearth since her treasure was 
 borne away ; perhaps, too, he remembers his own dead mother, 
 and her cold hand on his boy brow. 
 
 "Mrs. Leslie, — aw — how is it — aw — that your favorite 
 pweachazt* — aw — always has so many aw — aw — moaw of the 
 'weakaw sex' — aw — to listen to his lechazt's — aw?" enquired a 
 rising young militia-man, powerful in self-glorification and in the 
 superiority of his sex over the " weakaw," of whom, including his 
 mother and sisters, he delighted to speak as " necessary evils," 
 to say nothing of his proficiency in drawling, damaging, and 
 distorting the Queen's English, "as if the three graces of 
 language" hung upon the three D's. 
 
 " Is it so?" asked Mrs. Leslie smiling. f< I fancied the listeners 
 were tolerably balanced, but let me reply to your question by 
 another : ;i How is it that so great a majority of the s stronger 
 sex' are to be found in places of abomination ?" 
 
 " Well — zceally — aw — aw — I nev<m- thought of that — aw — aw. 
 — How do you account — aw — foiu it ?" asked the gallant youth. 
 
 " Possibly because women possess a keener appreciation of the 
 sublime, yet simple majesty, of Gospel teaching as set forth 
 so powerfully by my young friend, or because they turn with 
 instinctive loathing from those amusements and resorts that 
 debase human kind," remarked Mrs. Leslie. 
 
 " Aw — I nevoid thought about this — aw — youaw ideaw is 
 
love's flrst dawn. 95 
 
 prodigiously— aw — clevaw ! — my sister Gawtivude — aw— pitches 
 into me — aw— because I cant — aw— help zrunning down silly 
 women— aw— aw— but I— aw"— (vigorously caressing his pro- 
 spective moustache as if invoking an idea), — which Mrs. Leslie 
 kindly supplied by remarking, compassionately : 
 
 " Runnino- down silly women, as you term it, seems to me an 
 unnatural divorce from right feeling and manly dignity. Suppose 
 ■we were to return the compliment, and discountenance all the 
 silly young men ?" 
 
 " Aw — aw — I must say good morning— aw — kind wegaiuds to 
 Leslie," replied the youth industriously nibbling the agate crook 
 of his slender walking-stick between the pauses of his "aw— aw." 
 
 "What extremely odd things your Mr. Courtenaye does, Mrs. 
 Leslie !" exclaimed an ultra-fashionable young lady ; "I heard he 
 absolutely carried poor old Mrs. Monkton in his arms all down 
 the aisle 'to her chair, and then went home and took a jug of soup 
 to blind Sally ; and because there was no one in the way, fed her 
 with it, and 'then read her to sleep." 
 
 "Yes," chimed in her younger sister, "papa was told for a 
 fact, that he spends hours and hours at the grave of the girl who 
 threw herself out of window, and has ordered a beautiful monu- 
 ment that will cost £b 00 to be erected to her memory, with 
 a dove in the claws of a falcon on it. Every one says he was 
 in love with her, and that's what makes him so quiet !" 
 
 "Yes," again spoke out the elder gossip, and Mr. Choker, the 
 curate of St. Clement's, told papa his sermons were 'quite blas- 
 phemous,' though he doesn't believe he composes them himself; 
 but pa declares that tis all jealousy because no one goes to 
 St. Clement's when Mr. Choker preaches; they all go to hear 
 Mr. Courtenaye, who isn't half so clever as the curate either ; 
 everybody says so !" 
 
 "Is that all ?" asked Mrs. Leslie. 
 
 "Oh dear, no!" said tiny gossip, "Sidney Johnson told 
 brother 'Gus that he heard Ism [himself say in the pulpit the 
 other night that he 'wished men worked for a penny a-day, 
 as they did a long time ago, for then he should stand a chance of 
 getting a new coat — he wanted one bad enough ;' and that 
 Dr. Grenville was so annoyed with his daughter for deserting her 
 own church, as she has done for months past, and running after 
 him, that they had high words about it, and he has locked her 
 
96 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 in her bedroom ever since, not even allowing her to walk in the 
 grounds !" 
 
 " Your informant must resort to his imagination fori his facts, 
 I think," said Mrs. Leslie, laughing. " Miss Grenvilleis at this 
 moment in my nursery with Donald ! Is he not imposing on 
 your credulity ?" and she looked archly in her face. " I am 
 afraid he will find it so elastic, that by-and-by he will overstrain 
 it, and then it will never return to its legitimate dimensions." 
 
 " I am sure I don't believe half he says," replied the young 
 fashionable, blushing deeply. 
 
 "Only as much as suits you," observed her sister with a 
 mischievous look : " you know Mr. Courtenaye is Sidney John- 
 son's especial bugbear, because Fanny Russell declares he is 
 
 the handsomest man in the town of D , which makes 
 
 Sidney jealous, as he likes her very much." 
 
 At this moment, Mary entered, or imagination fails in con- 
 juring up the extraordinary " sayings and doings," attributed in 
 polished circles to the self-denying young pastor. 
 
 After the usual interchange of courtesies, Mrs. Leslie took up 
 the thread, or rather the knotty points of the conversation, 
 thinking it right to contradict the false reports. 
 
 " I can assure you, my dear Miss St. John, the reports you 
 have heard of Mr. Courtenaye are wholly false; he is too much 
 impressed with the dignity of his mission to jest while delivering 
 it. But why do you not hear for yourself? Why repeat on 
 hearsay V 
 
 "Oh ! pa would never forgive me if I deserted our own 
 church," she replied, sheltering her own sectarianism behind the 
 " pa would'nt like it" of one of the kindest fathers in the world, 
 of whose wishes she took a most microscopic view whenever 
 it suited her to walk over them. 
 
 Hush, malignant Envy, and eyeless Prejudice, and hundred - 
 tongued Slander, Hush ! The earthen vessel thy waves and 
 billows are dashing against is filled with heavenly treasure, 
 and will ride triumphant over every breaker into the desired 
 haven. 
 
 " GOD will hide him in His tabernacle from the strife of tongues." 
 
 " And he has left, 
 Deposited upon the silent shore 
 Of memory images and precious thoughts 
 That shall not die — and cannot bo destroyed." 
 
love's first dawn. 97 
 
 " Did you like the sermon, dearest ?" enquired Mrs. Leslie of 
 Mary, who, having flung off the ample shawl she had hastily 
 thrown over her rich dinner dress, stood very carefully arranging 
 her hair in the former's dressing room. 
 
 " Yes," she replied, " there is something very different in 
 Mr. Courtenaye's preaching to that I am accustomed to ; is he 
 always so earnest and impressive ?" 
 
 " Yes, in the pulpit," replied her friend, " and I am sure you 
 will like him in the home circle ; he is one of the most cheerful, 
 well-informed men of our acquaintance ; and so fond of my boy ! 
 He says there can be no heart-home where there are no wee 
 voices nor pattering feet, and his large, loving, refined nature 
 hoards such a wealth of sympathy and affection, that he is 
 quite a social Croesus." 
 
 "He seems quite your beau ideal, Julia," said Mary, with a 
 smile ; " I wonder Henry never wears the flower of jealousy." 
 
 u O ! my Harry likes him as well as I do, and well he may, 
 for he was instrumental in influencing his undecided views, and 
 inducing him to cast in his lot with God's people ; but setting 
 aside this, it is impossible to see the consistency of his conduct 
 without admiring him." 
 
 " I am afraid he is on the road to Hero-worship," replied 
 Mary. "Won't you have his portrait in all your rooms shortly?" 
 " I do not apprehend any danger on that head accruing to 
 my favourite," she answered ; " where regard and affection 
 spring from the right motive towards a faithful pastor, there 
 will be no room for Hero-worship ; and if we regard with 
 peculiar feelings the physician whose skill and solicitude have 
 healed our bodily infirmities, may we not equally value those 
 who have administered to our spiritual necessities? Beside, 
 all our friend's actions spring from one motive, which is neither 
 a short-lived emotion or sentiment of the fancy, but a fixed, 
 calm, undecaying principle — love to his Master ; recognising 
 this, and no one can fail to do so, what danger can he be in 
 from creature-worship ? I really do not believe he ever does a 
 thing from a motive inferior to this or secondary to it ; much 
 less from abstract ideas of what is ' lovely, and of good report,' 
 but from the one abiding principle." 
 
 " Then you think him perfect ?" remarked Mary. 
 u I did not say or imply so much;" answered Julia. 
 
98 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 u I will repeat my own Harry's words, with which he pre- 
 faces all his amateur lectures, when I am vexed with our clergy, 
 for the heartless indifference they betray towards my favourite 
 society, the Town Mission"," — 
 
 1 The best of men are but men at best f 
 
 but come, little caviller, I shall see you a neophyte yet ; you shall 
 judge for yourself," and she led the way to the drawing room 
 where the young men were assembled. 
 
fcilALL TALK. 99 
 
 CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 Small ®alk. 
 
 6 What woke the buried sound that lay 
 Tn Meranon's harp of yore? 
 What spirit on its viewless way, 
 
 Along the Nile's green shore ?"— Hemaks. 
 
 tt Miss Grenville, Mr. Courtenaye," said Mrs. Leslie, as he 
 advanced to meet them on their 'entering the drawing-room, 
 which, unlike our modern repositories for bijouterie and vertu, 
 with their ne-touchez-pas smile, seemed really comfortable enough 
 to "live in." 
 
 " I have had the pleasure of meeting your friend before, my dear 
 Mrs. Leslie, and renew my acquaintance with much satisfaction," 
 said Courtenaye, shaking hands with Mary, as he enquired — 
 " I hope you are quite recovered from your late indisposition, and 
 that Dr. Grenville is well?" 
 
 " Papa is quite well, and I have recovered my usual health," 
 replied Mary, with a blushing smile. 
 
 " I was not aware you had been ill, darling, " observed Mrs. 
 Leslie. 
 
 " Only a troublesome cold, and I cannot imagine who could 
 have amused themselves by reporting* so trifling a circumstance," 
 Mary answered. 
 
 " How did you hear of this trifling circumstance, Mr. Cour- 
 tenaye ? " asked Mrs. Leslie. 
 
 " From one of Miss Grenville's ancient proteges" he replied, 
 smiling ; and his easy manner removed from Mary's mind a slight 
 degree of embarrassment she felt at the remembrance of their 
 
 h2 
 
100 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 last meeting in the old woman's cottage, as well as a secret con- 
 sciousness that he knew of her dislike to any church or preacher 
 but her own ; and thus, at perfect ease in the delightful circle of 
 her friend's family, she shone with her usual brightness, capti- 
 vating all with the depth and fervour of her feelings, the extent and 
 variety of her acquirements, and the enthusiasm of her poetic tem- 
 perament. Perhaps she never appeared to greater advantage than 
 on that evening. They talked of Paris, Vienna, Rome, travelling 
 again over hill and valley, comparing favourite reminiscences and 
 scenes ; in short, all seemed to mutually exert themselves for the 
 pleasure of each other, — and when did ever that fail to produce 
 " an effect I " 
 
 But Mary's exquisite voice was the magic key that unlocked all 
 hearts, and producing that intense sense of enjoyment with a 
 kindred " few," which the "many" cannot feel. 
 
 " What a mysterious power music possesses over the soul," re- 
 marked Mrs. Leslie, breaking the deep silence following Mary's 
 last gush of harmony ; "it seems as if a bare combination of 
 wires or strings could not produce such deep emotion, or awaken 
 such heart-movings." 
 
 11 The same idea has frequently occurred to me," remarked 
 Courtenaye ; " do you recollect the Hindoo explanation of this 
 mysterious influence ? " 
 
 M No ! pray tell us !" said Mrs. Leslie. 
 
 " They say," rejoined Courtenaye, " that music is the spirit- 
 language in which souls held converse in a former disembodied 
 state, and that when we listen to it, it revives a dim and shadowy 
 recollection of a holier state, refining and elevating heavenward 
 the mind, and, for the moment, setting it free from the matter 
 which encumbers it." 
 
 " What an exquisite conception!" exclaimed Mary. "How 
 full of poetry ! It seems that all nations, however remote or 
 barbarous, possess some peculiar ideas and knowledge of music, 
 as if, wherever the human voice is heard, it follows almost as a 
 necessity." 
 
 " One and the same thing, fair lady," said Fred Leslie, look- 
 ing admiringly at Mary, "no human voice, however harsh, but 
 it awakens melody in some heart, and, Ariosto, you recollect, 
 even talks about the 'harmony of horror,' while" some other 
 poet tells us, — 
 
 1 All discord is but harmonv not understood.'" 
 
SMAXL TALK. 101 
 
 " The sort of ■ harmony' so well understood by an Indian 
 prince at the Opera, who bravo' d lustily, and exhibited signs of 
 uproarious delight when the orchestra was 'tuning,' and went 
 fast asleep as soon as the overture began," said Henry Leslie 
 laughing. 
 
 "I say, Hal!" exclaimed Fred Leslie, " I wonder how the 
 Hindoo metaphysicians get over the difficulty arising from the 
 fact that some people remain as unmoved at the sound of the 
 sweetest music as an Egyptian mummy, and cannot tell the dif- 
 ference between the 'Dead March' in Saul,' and 'Yankee 
 Doodle.' I suppose these bipeds never had any souls from first 
 to last." 
 
 "Two or three swallows do not make a summer, Fred," 
 replied his brother, gaily ; " your proposition goes for nothing." 
 "Or the Hindoos may tell you your cases are the exceptions, 
 not the rule," observed Courtenaye* smiling, "but I quite agree 
 with you, there is no music so sweet as the human voice — do 
 you not think so, Miss Grenville ? " 
 
 " I scarce know," she replied, " we feel so different as circum- 
 stances vary." 
 
 "According to the clearness of your soul's vision, or the alti- 
 tude of your disembodied soaring," laughed Fred, with a sly 
 look at his brother, whose mind had been plentifully stored with 
 tales and stories of " things unreal," by his old Scotch nurse, 
 in his Highland home, and formed a contrast to that of the gay 
 speaker, who possessed a good dash of the matter-of-factness be- 
 longing to the substantial and real, characterizing his countrymen. 
 "Perhaps," remarked Mary, gaily, "we may as well retain 
 that idea until you can give us a better as to the origin of this 
 mysterious flower ; at any rate, the susceptibility to it is not 
 confined to persons of a romantic and poetic temperament, but we 
 find it in those whose minds were imbued with strength for the 
 most arduous undertakings, and whose capability of endurance no 
 hardships could undermine." 
 
 " Name ! name ! " exclaimed Fred, gaily. 
 
 " Well, as one instance," replied Mary, " do you recollect the 
 anecdote of Luther ? When once overwhelmed with deep sadness, 
 he lay stretched on the floor of his cell, insensible for many 
 hours ; and after his friend Eamberger had vainly tried every 
 effort to rouse him, the young boys began to chaunt a soft 
 anthem, their blended voices acted as a charm upon the poor 
 monk, and he revived." 
 
102 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 "One swallow you know the rest," laughed Fred, glancing 
 
 significantly towards his brother. 
 
 " Miss Grenville could give you a whole host of parallelisms if 
 she thought it worth while, you satirical fellow," remarked Henry 
 Leslie, in the same gay strain, " beside poets, philosophers, and 
 all kinds of genius who have bowed to this mysterious influence ; 
 for example, Milton, Alfieri, Lord Bacon, Massillon, Curran, War- 
 burton, Leanardo da Vinci !"■ 
 
 li Oh, stop, for pity's sake! " gaily interrupted Fred, " I own 
 myself dead beat," and he bowed with mock gravity to Mary. 
 
 " I am afraid of you, you are so terribly severe," said Mary, 
 smiling archly, but Fred assured her he would "promise to 
 behave properly if she would promise to sing one more song 
 before she left." 
 
 "With all his faults the gallant soul of our undaunted reformer 
 seemed particularly susceptible of graceful influences ; I love to 
 fancy him clasping a flower in his hand while waging with Eckius 
 that great public controversy, "which rescued for ever the glorious 
 doctrine of Protestants from the clouds of Popish error that had 
 obscured it," remarked Courtenaye. 
 
 u I have somewhere met with an account, published by the 
 Royal Academy of Sciences at Paris, of diseases that had obsti- 
 nately refused to yield to medical skill, giving way, and being 
 entirely subdued by the power of music," observed F. Leslie. 
 
 "Diseases of the brain, I suppose," said Mrs. Leslie, "such as 
 assailed Charles the Ninth, after the massacre of Saint Bartholo- 
 mew ? I wonder he could find any relief from the horrors that 
 scared his guilty soul." 
 
 " Undoubtedly," replied her husband, "they were brain ma- 
 ladies ; I think the well-known case of Philip of Spain, and the 
 musician Faranelli, one of the most remarkable." 
 
 " The appliance of the power of music as a curative seems to 
 have been well known and resorted to among the ancients ; do 
 you recollect how the dark imagery of the distempered soul of 
 Saul was banished by its influence ? and as if it were equally 
 solemnizing to the feelings, we find the prophet Elisha calling for 
 the aid of minstrelsy to bring his spirit into the best frame for 
 receiving the prophetic vision." * I think I have also read that 
 
 * The writer is indebted for much informaion to that interesting and im- 
 portant publication, deserving a place in every family circle, " The Sunday 
 at Home/* and the obligation is herewith thankfully recorded. 
 
SMALL TALK. 103 
 
 the bite of the tarantula can only be cured by the power of music," 
 remarked Courtenaye. 
 
 " A very singular instance, something to the point, came 
 under my own notice," said Fred ; " may I tell it ? Tis a case 
 for you spiritual speculators." 
 
 ■ Yes ! Pray give us your ' experience,' " replied Julia, 
 smiling ; and Fred continued — 
 
 " The wife of an old college chum of mine played with sur- 
 passing taste and skill ; that is, she didn't rush over the startled 
 keys with an electric velocity that, when she had finished, left 
 her hearers in doubt whether the strings of the instrument had 
 not snapped, or the phosphate of lime in her delicate fingers 
 given out, " 
 
 "You cynical fellow !" interrupted his brother, much amused ; 
 " do let us have your story. Do you think you are going " to do ' 
 the reformer ? Your very looks are against you." 
 
 Fred laughed, and continued : " Well, thee, she played with 
 feeling, and had arranged one of Beethoven's exquisite waltzes, of 
 which her husband was so fond, that I have seen him lay his 
 head on his hand and weep like a child as she played it ; and he 
 extorted from her a promise, that if she outlived him, and was 
 present, she would play it while he was dying, which promise 
 she actually kept about two years after she gave it. He sunk in 
 a rapid decline, and, while dying, reminded her of his wish.'* 
 
 "I cannot think how she could have commanded her feelings 
 sufficiently for such a trial,*'" said Mrs. Leslie, in a tone of much 
 emotion ; " I am sure I could not have played anything at such a 
 solemn moment." 
 
 " Not if it soothed and solaced the object dearest to you on 
 earth ?" softly inquired Mary. 
 
 Mrs. Leslie did not reply, and her husband assured her she 
 should never be called on to make such a sacrifice, turning to 
 Fred for the sequel to his story, who continued, — 
 
 ■ After the death of my friend Frank, his wife went into 
 apartments, and in a suite of rooms next to hers, a poor young 
 creature was slowly dying of the same fatal malady ; and hearing 
 her frequently play the air in the twilight, she became so passion- 
 ately fond of it, that in her last moments she sent for her, and 
 asked her to play her soul to sleep."* 
 
 u What a singular and affecting coincidence ! and I think it is 
 
 * A fact. 
 
104 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 recorded of Madame de Stael that she soothed the last moments 
 of her mother by this wondrous power," remarked Mary. 
 
 n Does it not remind you of the Oriental custom of setting out 
 on long voyages with music ?*' asked Julia. 
 
 " Or the Moorish one, where the unmarried dead are adorned 
 with bridal vestments, and committed to the earth with sweet 
 music? "Would not the circumstance just related seem to favour 
 the Persian doctrine, that souls are created in dualities, and that 
 those of poor Frank and Miss Sutherland had held converse in 
 the spirit-language of that peculiar melody before they were 
 separated by, and encumbered with, matter?" suggested Leslie. 
 ** Hence, their mutual passion for it arose from a shadowy memory 
 of that pre-existence, and at the moment when the soul of each 
 was once more disenfranchised, they united for ever." 
 
 "I don't think you have quite hit upon the Persian idea," 
 said Fred ; " but I say, Hal, suppose the first words the soul 
 spoke in spirit-music one to the other would be 'Old fellow, 
 where hast thou been so long? 1 and laughing, he continued, 
 M What a first-rate president you would make for a Greek or 
 Hindoo Transmigration of Souls Societv ! "Whv don't vou adver- 
 tise for shareholders ?" 
 
 "What is the Persian idea, then?" demanded Henry Leslie, 
 " I quite forget. I thought they believed in a duality of spiritual 
 creation." 
 
 "Not exactly." answered his brother, "and it is so long since I 
 went to school, I almost forget, but, if they were created, as you 
 seem to think, Hal, I am sure our every-day-life experience 
 writes 'moonshine,' upon the notion ; unless, indeed, some mis- 
 chievous etherial Puck takes off the labels from the sorted pairs, 
 and puts them on to others, hap- hazard, so producing a round 
 game of cross-purposes, ending in 'paired, but not matched.'" 
 
 "Your flights leave the Persians far behind, both in sublimity 
 and originality," remarked Mary, highly amused, "but they 
 prove, or rather disprove, nothing, being very wide of the sub- 
 ject. Pray try to recollect the original idea ; the Oriental specu- 
 lations always abound in rich poetic imagery, and it has been ob- 
 served, that even amid their most daring sweeps, where reason 
 shrinks back afraid to venture, they seem following some shadowy 
 notion, guided in a degree by a minute observance of the springs 
 of nature, and the streams which her prolific fountain pours 
 forth." 
 
SMALL TALK. 105 
 
 "If vou cannot remember," said Courtenaye to Fred Leslie, 
 "my memory will, I think, enable me to gratify Miss Grenville's 
 
 wish." 
 
 "Do, pray then, my dear fellow," replied Fred, "for my 
 knowledge has been playing at bo-peep these last twenty years." 
 
 Courtenaye resumed— " The Persian doctrine is, I believe, 
 that even- soul brought into existence, has, at the birth of the^ 
 infant it i*s to inhabit, a counterpart, or corresponding portion of 
 spiritual essence, infused into the body of some simultaneously- 
 created being; and that the perfection of human happiness is, 
 when in the course of events, two such individuals meet and unite, 
 either in friendship or love ; neither of which can be perfect, ex- 
 cept by such union of corresponding souls. Spencer has em- 
 bodied" the idea in his exquisite 'Hymn in honour of Beauty.'" 
 "Ah, I recollect now," exclaimed Henry Leslie, "and am 
 almost a convert to the theory." 
 
 ■* So am I," said Mary, with a smile, " and could nearly add 
 papa's unanswerable finale, 'It stands to reason." 
 
 "I sav, Miss Grenville," asked Fred, "I wonder what 
 becomes of the poor souls who never meet on this bustling stage? 
 How woe-begone they must look ! And, by-the-by, can't you 
 tell us where the said' soul was before a body was made for it?" 
 
 " You are too profound for a simple woman like me," replied 
 Mary, shaking her bright head, "ask your brother." 
 
 "Just to prove that the lip of Folly may ask what the lip of 
 Wisdom cannot answer," exclaimed Fred, with mock 
 gravity. 
 
 "Are vou turning cynical on yourself at last?" asked his 
 brother, in a merry tone." " You only want a tub to-night, Fred." 
 " And an Alexander," suggested Mary, slyly. 
 " Oh ! I wouldn't give a fig to be such a great sham philosopher 
 as the erowling dirty hero of the tub !" exclaimed Fred.^ "If he 
 had been a real one—' a right man in the right place ' — and as 
 indifferent as he pretended to be, what would he have cared about 
 the sun being intercepted from his filthy den ? But we have 
 wandered away from our shadowy starting-post, — how about the 
 unpaired spirits, fair lady?" 
 
 ■ You are so terribly s'atirical to-night, that I am really afraid 
 of vou," Mary answered gaily, 
 
 " Do you think, then" that I shall be for taking you off, or 
 would you rather I took myself off, and thus give you an oppor- 
 
106 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 timity of continuing your spirited remarks without fear of criticism," 
 laughed Fred. 
 
 M You really are incorrighle to-night ! " exclaimed his brother, 
 " hke the man in the play, below par ; now pray try and be 
 rational for a few hours." 
 
 "Rational!" repeated Fred ; "I think I am the only rational 
 member of the Leslie family ! Am I not, Julia ?'' he inquired, 
 with an injured look. Then turning to Courtenaye, he asked, 
 " Do you believe in warnings ?" 
 
 u Pray be serious, you rattle-brain," said Mrs. Leslie; "let 
 us return to the subject on which we were speaking just now. 
 Have you never felt a dreamy, indistinct kind of feeling when first 
 introduced to a person that you must have met before in some 
 remote shadowy period ? And so, in Hke manner, with landscapes, 
 and strains of music, there seems a mysterious counterpart in 
 memory ; but perhaps in nothing are we so conscious of this feel- 
 ing as when some peculiar smile or voice falls on the heart ; we 
 greet it as an old friend we have known and loved before, though 
 we remember not when or where, and imagination loses itself in 
 vain conjecture." 
 
 " Or the sentiment so finely poetized by your gifted country- 
 man," said Fred, to Courtenaye, and he repeated with much 
 feeling those well-known lines of Moore's : — 
 
 u Oh ! there are looks and tones that dart 
 An instant sunshine through the heart, 
 As if the soul that instant caught 
 The ray that it through life had sought." 
 
 w Perhaps," suggested Courtenaye, " the beautiful laws of 
 attraction, which so harmoniously pervade and characterise the 
 material world, may also permeate and control the spiritual ; 
 hence, kindred feelings and aspirations attract, whenever or 
 wherever they contact, and produce that mysterious drawing of 
 the soul so well known ; but we shall never comprehend its origin 
 till these 'material spectacles/ as Dr. Sherlock calls the bodv, 
 are taken off, and the soul, with its own unclouded eve, sees all 
 the wondrous machinery. 
 
 1 Dimly through life's vapour seeing, 
 "Who but longs for light to break.' " 
 
 "What are those lines from?" asked Mrs. Leslie; "I fancy 
 they too sound like an old friend." , 
 
SMALL TALK. 107 
 
 "Probably/' answered Courtenaye, "they are from one of the 
 finest compositions in our language, the ■ Reverie,' by Conder." 
 " Does it not begin 
 
 1 Oh ! that in unfettered union, 
 Spirit could with spirit blend ?' " 
 
 asked Fred ; " For my part, I cannot say I admire such romantic 
 speculative kind of poetry ; some people would resolve the entire 
 existence into a chapter of metaphysics, were they not reminded 
 of their coarser part by hunger and thirst, beside 
 
 " Fred,'' interrupted his brother, laughing, "what fresh 
 character are you doing to night V 
 
 " A very unromantic one," he replied, u but pray do not 
 interrupt me. " Don't you recollect where Humboldt speaks of 
 rocks somewhere, that make the most delicious melody as the air 
 passes through them ? Why don't you send for a cargo ? What a 
 unique march they would play for your ethereal regiment, 
 commanded by officers from the shadowy regions of dear 
 old Fingal's cave ?" 
 
 " Ridicule is no test of truth," said Leslie in the same 
 gay tone, u and by the softening effect music has on your flinty 
 heart and unimaginative soul, one may catch glimpses of the truth 
 struggling for existence in the obscure but suggestive mythology 
 of the Orphean exploits." 
 
 "Why don't you write an essay on the probability of the 
 improbable ? You would rival the learned Shemei of Damascus, 
 who composed a book full of logical acumen to prove the 
 ( possibility of doing impossibilities.' It is an absolute robbery to 
 the dark portion of society that you don't illumine it with 
 the electric light of your intellect." observed the gay Fred. 
 
 " Shall I write a book and make you the hero, a man so slow 
 that he found it impossible to believe anything that he could not 
 demonstrate with mathematical precision . 7 " retorted his brother 
 in the same bantering style. 
 
 "Yes," answered Fred, "you are profound enough to think 
 for all the rest cf the Leslie family, and may make them believe 
 in the old Pyrrho dodge, that there was no such thing as a 
 body." 
 
 " And you just the reverse ! Fred ! Fred ! I shall never make 
 anything of you, with your tortoise propensities ; you are incorri- 
 gible !" laughed Leslie. 
 
103 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 " Xow Harry, you are too severe !" said his brother in a depre- 
 cating tone. " Is he not, Julia ?" 
 
 11 Not one whit !" answered Mrs. Leslie, "you are the most 
 matter-of-fact, unimaginative creature, for a Scotchman, I ever 
 saw ; not an atom of the delightful romance belonging to their 
 character clinging to you ; and if it were not for a certain saucy 
 curve of the nether lip which reminds me of Harry, I should say 
 you were changed when you were a baby !" 
 
 " Catching it on all sides !" said the gay Fred, shrugging his 
 shoulders with a look of injured innocence; " then I suppose the 
 * delightful romance' clinging to my sage brother in virtue of his 
 Scotch descent, has quite proselyted your cold Saxon heart, fair 
 lady ; but I presume you are not prepared, among other myths 
 with which he has indoctrinated you, to subscribe to the old fable 
 of Deucalion, who roundly declares all men, and of course your 
 incomparable Harry, as well as my * incorrigible' self, were 
 generated from stones t" 
 
 " Or perhaps your heart was left out, and a stone put in its 
 place," laughed Julia slyly. 
 
 Fred glanced for one instant, as if involuntarily, towards Mary, 
 and an expression of sadness swept over his handsome face, but 
 in the next he recovered his gaiety, and, turning to Courtenaye, 
 said — 
 
 "You never replied to my question, whether you believe in 
 warnings ? My brother is a rabid advocate for their existence." 
 
 " That depends on the kind of warning," replied Courtenaye ; 
 " I do believe in them ; and there are so many ever round 
 and about and within us, if we would but give heed to their 
 teaching, that we need never resort to, or speculate on, the 
 supernatural. But I see one before me at this moment not to be 
 disregarded, reminding me that all earthly circles, however 
 delightful, must break up, and he directed his eye to a time-piece. 
 "Will you, before we separate, favour us with that song wherein 
 glimpses of the land where partings never come are faintly 
 foreshadowed V turning to Mary. 
 
 " Do you mean my favourite ?" Leslie enquired, — 
 
 " Who are these in bright array," 
 " Miss Grenville sings it beautifully." 
 
 " No — one I shall never forget hearing her sing," replied 
 Courtenaye, — 
 
 1 There is a land of pure delight' 
 
SMALL T4LK. 109 
 
 P It is pleasant and precious mid all the varied ideas, ancient 
 and modern, that fancy or philosophy has indulged in relative to 
 a future state, to ■ know in whom ice have believed,' and that 
 • life and immortality were brought to light by the Gospel.' ' 
 
 Mary made no reply, and seating herself at the piano, began in 
 a low, thrilling voice the song he desired ; but the memory of the 
 last time she sung it, and of the sweet young face now shrouded 
 in death, rolled over her softened heart, and when she reached 
 the second verse — 
 
 " Death, like a narrow sea, divides 
 That heavenly land from ours." 
 
 her voice suddenly faltered, and unable to controul her emotions, 
 she paused, overcome by tears. 
 
 In a moment Julia and Courtenaye were at her side, anxiously 
 asking if she were not well. 
 
 " Quite well, only very silly, perhaps a little overcome by the 
 heat," she replied, rising and moving towards the open window. 
 " Just as I felt to-night when the hymn commenced at church : 
 but indeed I am quite well now," she added as she met the quiet 
 eye of Courtenaye bent on her with an expression of interest that 
 quickened her heart's beatings almost to pain ; while he— con- 
 scious that the surest way to enable her to recover her self- 
 possession was to divert all attention from her, turned towards 
 Mrs. Leslie, and enquired : 
 
 " Was Miss Grenville at church with you this evening ? I was 
 not aware of it." 
 
 " Yes, and I hope she will often accompany us ; but why do 
 you ask, and seem surprised ?" replied Mrs. Leslie. 
 
 " Only because I had heard that Miss Grenville entertained a 
 decided objection to worshipping with any congregation but with 
 
 that she is accustomed to meet, and a dislike to to ," he 
 
 hesitated, smiling. 
 
 " O pray go on !" exclaimed Mary with charming frankness, 
 and a smile as full of meaning as his own, " or shall I finish ? A 
 dislike to any preaching but in my own church. "Was not that 
 what you intended to say ?" 
 
 "Assuredly not !" answered Courtenaye, "you would not " 
 
 "No! no!" interrupted Mrs. Leslie, " I won't allow you to 
 write such hard things against yourself, darling ! you never went 
 so far as that, I am sure !" 
 
 "Well, perhaps not quite so bad," replied Mary, "but as 
 ignorance is ever the parent of prejudice — and in consideration ct 
 
110 A LIF2-L0NG STOKY. 
 
 my being a spoilt child, I hope you will forgive my pre-conceived 
 
 dislike of of" . It was now her turn to stop a little 
 
 confused, for she felt the words "any other preaching" on her 
 tongue, and she looked with a half serious, half amused expression 
 towards Courtenaye, which again brought the quiet smile into his 
 face as he said : 
 
 " Upon one condition — that you never offend in like manner 
 again." 
 
 " I will answer for her never disliking you or your preaching 
 ao-ain," exclaimed Fred, "now she is convinced, ex cathedra, that 
 you do not perpetrate ecclesiastical jokes and puns in the pulpit, 
 eh, Miss Grenville V % and he looked full of mischievous meaning 
 towards her. 
 
 Mary blushed, and seemed embarrassed, but Courtenaye came 
 to her relief by enquiring how she liked the church singing ? 
 
 " More than any I ever recollect to have heard," she replied ; 
 "there was such harmonious blending of the voices with the 
 sentiment ; their hearts seemed singing." 
 
 " How glad I am you like it," exclaimed Mrs. Leslie, " but I 
 felt sure you would do so : and it ought to be good, for Mr. 
 Courtenaye devotes a great deal of attention to it ; and I often 
 tell him, I cannot think how he finds time to do so much as he 
 does, and that I am sure he must rise at four in the morning." 
 
 "Not quite so early, dear Mrs. Leslie ; but thinking that de- 
 vout congregational singing constitutes an important part of the 
 sanctuary services, I should not think my duty performed if I 
 devoted no attention to it," Courtenaye replied. 
 
 " And I must say," remarked Fred Leslie, " it amply repays 
 you ; for my own part, I have frequently found it difficult to re- 
 press my aptness to laugh at the comical noises called * singing 
 to the praise and glory,' one frequently hears in different congre- 
 gations, who inflate their lungs more from habit than from any 
 idea of ' singing praises with the understanding,' while the ma- 
 jority of the listeners look on with a half risible, half victimized 
 expression, which may be done into ' well, never mind, it won't 
 last for ever !' This is the only place where we tolerate bad music 
 and singing." 
 
 " How about your argument, that 
 
 4 All discord is but harmony?'" 
 
 asked Mary, with a sly smile. 
 
 " Fairly caught,'* said Fred, laughing. 
 
SMALL TALK. Ill 
 
 " But is it not sad," observed Mrs. Leslie, " to hear the 
 slovenly nasal way in which some congregational singing is per- 
 formed ? Why should the house of God be the only place where 
 bad music would be for a moment tolerated?" 
 
 "I hope there is a good time coming for this also," remarked 
 her husband, " the evident improvement springing up everywhere 
 in spmtual worship will lead necessarily to a better state of things 
 in this respect ; it is the prelude to it." 
 
 " A consummation devoutly to be wished," rejoined Fred. 
 
 " Sandford tells me your footman has been here some time," 
 said Henry Leslie to Mary, returning into the drawing-room, 
 where she stood already shawled, " and I have taken the liberty 
 of sending him away, thinking you would probably not object to 
 the escort of your obedient servant ? It is such a lovely night ! 
 I have been into the nursery, persuading Julia to accompany us, 
 as she would enjoy the homeward stroll with your favorite self, 
 but she is baby-struck, instead of moon- struck, and prefers stay- 
 ing with the bairn." 
 
 " May I also join in the pleasure of escorting you," enquired 
 Courtenaye, and as this proposal was not particularly disagreeable 
 to Mary, they sallied forth into the still, delicious air of a sum- 
 mer night ; and what a night ! 
 
 •' The moon looked out from her home of blue," 
 And the stars shone with a tender brilliancy, realizing the child- 
 poet's idea of there being " gimlet-holes to let the glory through !" 
 
 They walked for some time, each in that hush and thrill of 
 spirit better understood than described, as if the heart were too 
 full of solemn thought for words. 
 
 Henry Leslie was the first to break the spell hanging on each 
 lip, by observing, " I never look up on such a night as this, but 
 those fine lines of Byron come unbidden into my memory : — 
 
 ' "Whoe'er gazed on those isles of light, 
 So wildly, spiritually bright, 
 And turned to earth without repining? 
 IS T or wished for wings to flee away, 
 And mix with their eternal ray.' " 
 
 " How beautiful they are, there is something deeply touching 
 in the yearning they disclose," observed Mary. 
 
 " Yes, it was the world-wide heart-cry breaking forth in lofty 
 poetry, and proves, that while the earth- stained wings of that 
 
 1 Restless wanderer after rest,' 
 
112 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 were poised in their eagle flight, there came the ever irrepres- 
 sible and mysterious yearning after the pure and infinite that 
 nought but the Eternal can fill," remarked Courtnaye. 
 
 " I sometimes fancy I can trace this mood underlying all his 
 best poetry, for example, in that magnificent poem, ' Childe 
 Harold,' " replied Leslie. 
 
 " In all profound intellects, whatever their profession may be, 
 this craving for the far-off and the everlasting undoubtedly 
 exists ; as if unsatisfied with the fleeting nature of all earthly 
 possessions, they groped deep in the inner region of the mys- 
 terious soul for the principle of their being," observed Courtenaye. 
 
 After an eloquent pause, which neither seemed disposed to 
 break, Leslie continued, " I never wonder that the moon should 
 have been an object of worship among nations where the light of 
 revelation never shone ; the dim and obscure ideas existing in 
 every mythology of an overruling and pervading spirit would 
 naturally fasten on that which appealed powerfully to their senses, 
 feeling for something seen and tangible whereon to lay their 
 worship." 
 
 " Which ideas were doubtless strengthened by their observance 
 of the moon's influence on the tides, and other atmospheric pheno- 
 mena, hence the ancient Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans, offered 
 sacrifices at the time of her being full ; and is it not Park who 
 speaks of the singular concentration of thought displayed by the 
 Mandigoes of Africa, whom he found saying short prayers to the 
 new moon," observed Courtenaye. 
 
 " I think so," replied Leslie, " but we need scarce travel so far, 
 the ancient inhabitants of your green-bosomed Erin used to 
 utter benedictions to the young moon, and in the Highlands of 
 my ain bonnie Scotland they still hold fast the old superstition." 
 
 " I believe such instances may be multiplied almost to any 
 extent," remarked Courtenaye, " seeming a proof how deeply 
 seated in the human soul, however degraded and polluted by sin, 
 is the desire for some object of worship." 
 
 Leslie made no reply: they each seemed busy with their own 
 heart — the night was so holy, so calm, so still, " purifying the 
 entire being, intensifying every feeling and emotion by its grand 
 mysterious teaching." 
 
 11 What a strange kind of phantom-sound there is in the air to- 
 night; do you feel it?" enquired Mary. 
 
 " Yes," replied Courtenaye, " there even seems to me that 
 
SMALL TALK. 113 
 
 mysterious spirit-like voice, or under-tone, pervading all 
 creation ; and I never felt it more sensibly than to-night ; as if 
 some unseen, but certain spiritual intelligences were hovering 
 round and about us ; perhaps if our eyes were opened, like those 
 of the prophet of old, we also should see * the great cloud of 
 ivitnesses that compass us about? " 
 
 '•And the dim under-sound we hear so plainly in the deep 
 stillness of the night may be the sweeping to and fro of angel 
 win^s on their mission to those who * shall be heirs of salvation* " 
 remarked Leslie, thoughtfully. 
 
 "O, the phantom-voices of our loved and lost calling our 
 
 spirits to that bright home, 
 
 1 Upon whose portals still they linger, 
 Looking back for us to come/ 
 
 said Mary, her voice faltering with emotion, as the image of her 
 idolized friend, whose early translation had been her first great 
 grief, rose up before her soul's eye with wondrous distinctness. 
 ■* ' There are it may be, so many kinds of voices in the world, and 
 none of them is without sig7iifcation,' ,> replied Courtenaye, " if we 
 would but read it, there is grand and solemn teaching in Nature's 
 eloquent book, bearing on every page the autograph of its 
 Author ; and he repeated in a tone of deep feeling, — 
 
 1 Oh ! gently by a thousand things, 
 
 That o'er the spirit pass — 
 Low breezes o'er the harp's fine strings, 
 
 Or vapours o'er a glass; 
 Leaving their token, strange and new 
 
 Of music, or of shade, 
 The summons to the right and true, 
 
 And beautiful is made." 
 
 u If we could but ever realize the idea of these unseen agencies 
 in our intercourse with the world, I do not think we should be 
 so constantly overborne by its counter- influences as we are," 
 remarked Mary thoughtfully. 
 
 " You have embodied my thoughts, my dear Miss Grenville," 
 answered Courtenaye, "but whatever dissonance of opinion 
 mav exist relative to angelic intelligences being cognizant of our 
 daily walk, there can exist none to the solemn revelation, that the 
 eye of God never slumbers nor sleeps; and all the gracious and 
 unseen influences around us are helps in the education of the 
 immortal spirit, 'till it shall drink at the fountain of ever 
 
114 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 increasing knowledge, in that sinless, sorrowless world, ' where 
 the sun shall no more go down : neither shall the moon withdraw 
 her self j for the Lamb shall be its everlasting light.' " 
 
 On Leslie's return he found his little wife kneeling beside a 
 wee cot in her nursery, kissing, for the twentieth time, the snowy- 
 lid veiling the violet eye of her babe. No doubt, a very old 
 fashioned mother was that young wife ! but, perhaps, she has 
 heard of such cruel things as croup and convulsions ; and has 
 been listening to her joy-birds' breathing, lest it should not be 
 " heathful music," or, perhaps she has been placing her little 
 lamb in the arms of the kind Shepherd for the night : at any 
 rate, so pre- occupied were her thoughts that she started violently 
 as her husband laid his hand gently on her bowed head, and 
 enquired, — 
 
 M What are you fancying now, dear little self-tormentor ; has 
 the wee thing an attack of gout or a baby nightmare ? " 
 
 " I am not fancying anything, except that you were a long 
 time gone to-night," she answered, as she rose .and put her arm 
 through her husband's, and then returned to once more "tuck 
 up " the little bundle of lace and cambric that Binney calls the 
 u natural magic of the family." " Tell me what detained you so 
 long, dearest ? " 
 
 " We walked very leisurely, revelling in the quiet beauty of 
 the evening. I wished for you, my love : you would have en- 
 joyed it too, as much as we did," replied Leslie. 
 
 " How glad I am Mary was so much pleased with Courte- 
 naye's preaching : not that £ had any doubt on the subject. I 
 shall make a point of asking her to accompany us every Wed- 
 nesday evening. His teaching cannot fail to have a powerful 
 influence, and how delighted I should be to see all the energies 
 of her expansive mind devoted to the cause of Religion, and 
 holiness stamping her character with a richer, deeper beauty," 
 exclaimed Mrs. Leslie. 
 
 " It is assuredly a much-to-be-desired result, and we must see 
 to it that we put no stumbling-blocks in the way, dearest," re- 
 plied Leslie. 
 
 M What a delightful wife she would make him ! " exclaimed 
 the warm-hearted little woman. " He would mould her charac- 
 ter into perfection by his firm but gentle teaching and influence; 
 he is so entirely able to appreciate and understand the warmth 
 
SMALL TALK. ]15 
 
 of her heart and the power of her intellect ; do you not think so, 
 Henry? Are they not just suited to each other? " 
 
 Leslie smiled at the fervour of his wife's admiration for her 
 favourite friend, as he replied, — 
 
 " Tou cannot pay your pet Mary a higher compliment ; and, 
 with one exception, she seems certainly formed for Courtenaye's 
 wife. No one would rejoice with a deeper satisfaction than I 
 should to see her transplanted from the uncongenial atmosphere 
 of her luxurious but frivolous home to one where the exceeding 
 beauty of her character would be developed by such a teacher ; 
 but" 
 
 u But what, dearest Henry ? Go on," said Mrs. Leslie. 
 
 H My own wifey must not become a matchmaker," Leslie 
 answered, printing a kiss on her white forehead as she looked 
 up wonderingly into his face. 
 
116 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 gtore gjtt&tft gicterotosg. 
 
 l< But she, as falls a willow from the storm, 
 O'er its own river streaming, 
 On his broad breast sheltered her fragile form, 
 With such a trusting fold, a child's fond faith, 
 Its mother's breast, beyond the lightning's power to reach." 
 
 There are some natures so constituted that to love seems an 
 indwelling necessity and principle of their very being; they 
 must have something to cherish in the hidden depths of the 
 hungering heart, 
 
 u To clasp and twine Affection's tendrils round," 
 
 and these natures are generally elevated, and their love, like 
 themselves, is exalted ; the kind so happily allegorized by the 
 ancients, 
 
 " Far and near, Summer and Winter." 
 
 It fainteth not 'neath the heat of -the former ; it shrinketh not 
 'mid the latter's cold : nor change, nor absence, nor time can 
 dim its brightness, nor 
 
 11 Do away, I ween, 
 The marks of that which once hath been." 
 
 On the other hand, petty souls give little love, and are contented 
 with the like in return : Affection's sensitive plant languishes and 
 cannot strike its tender fibres deep in such unyielding soil ; it is 
 root-bound; hence, it brings not to perfection the one bright 
 cherished flower of the heart's garden. 
 
 Thus yearning for some object whereon to lay the incense of her 
 heart, and clasp its leal and clinging tendrils round, Mary has 
 oome before us : being an only girl, her little affections found no 
 
MORE DECIDED HETERODOXY. 117 
 
 outlet in child-companionship and child-sympathy, so they often 
 overflowed solitarily at the spring-head on the time-honoured pets 
 of childhood, at some time or other enshrined among its house- 
 hold treasures. How she could squeeze and pinch her plump 
 little kitten "Timsey," from the very exuberance of her affection! 
 Oh, what raining of crystal drops, when her wee white mouse 
 departed this life in an attack of repletion ! or the fond canary 
 was killed with kindness ! for, poor darling ! slie fancied, as grown 
 up children do, that " nobody ever saw such pets" as theirs. 
 u Such an extraordinary clever" child, or parrot, or skye— 
 fancying they can never love another of the kind : but old 
 Time — who serve as sexton to the Lares he has slain,^heals 
 the wound, and the elastic heart embraces a new joy. 
 
 As vears rolled on, our Mary's heart set up a cry and yearning 
 for some object to fraternize with all its sympathies and cravings. 
 Her judicious governess could not meet this want, for a whole- 
 some respect — bordering on fear, repressed the sparkling stream. 
 Her brother ever disliked her, because she divided between them 
 his father's wealth; hence her sensitive little spirit shrunk from 
 the selfish boy, who at fifteen aped authority by disturbing the 
 entire household because his slippers were not forthcoming 
 instantly, or the book he was reading was not immediately 
 found. She loved her father tenderly, but somehow, he never 
 seemed to understand her, or enter into her ideas, or feelings as 
 some fathers can who do not move in the family circle like a 
 repelling iceberg, refusing to dignify themselves by condescend- 
 ing to reply to little philosophical questions difficult to little 
 enquiring minds : who do not frighten romping feet within the 
 seridom of the nursery, at the unwelcome sound of his violence 
 upon knocker or bell, looking upon even their own children as 
 some do upon religion — very proper for Sundays, but not fit for 
 every-day use ; unless, indeed, upon the former they are brought 
 into the dining-room — over-drest — and over-fine at "dessert," 
 when, if they are not made ill by the quantity, the variety, and 
 the unreasonableness of rubbish they take into their little bodies, 
 they are stiff, mechanical, unnatural wee figures, "with nothing 
 of racy, glowing, frolicking, childhood about them — premature 
 old men and women, laughing, looking, standing, and setting 
 by rule ; and generally behaving well enough for all children 
 in the parish or county put together. " Tisn't in the nature 
 of things ! " as some one says. But, to return to the doctor. 
 
118 A LIFE-LONG STOR5T. 
 
 " Don't ask such silly things, Pussy ! " said he, one day, in 
 answer to her question, — 
 
 " What made the little brown seed I put into my garden come 
 up such a beautiful pink flower, papa ?" 
 
 Here was a field for planting lessons that would never have died 
 in the child's memory ! 
 
 I " Run and play ! I never heard a little papa ask such foolish 
 questions as you do ! " was the torpedo-rebuke to the touching 
 enquiry — 
 
 " Will my mamma, who is gone to live in heaven, answer all I 
 want to know, and love me dearly when I go to live with her papa ?" 
 
 Here was a corrosive acid for blunting the fine edge of 
 feeling ! " Foolish questions ! ! " 
 
 Like Israel of old — "prone to idolatry from her youth" — the 
 first idol she set up on her heart-pedestal was the fair girl who, 
 
 " Early, bright, transient as the morning dew — 
 Sparkled — was exhaled— and went to Heaven," 
 
 leaving Mary with a sense of inward desolation, that time could 
 scarce mellow into soft regret. 
 
 " She was so young to die ! so good and beautiful !" she ex- 
 claimed one evening, after an outburst of pent-up tears, in reply 
 to her faithful domestic, who was striving to console her with 
 the best comfort she could. 
 
 " 'Tis no use fretting and making yourself ill, my dear young 
 lady, you can't bring her back ; and I dare say she is a good 
 deal better off than she was here, with her unkind relations ; so 
 dry up your tears, and look happy once more ; I declare the 
 roses are all gone from your pretty face, and you are getting 
 thin and pale-like ! " 
 
 Truth ! truth I though draped in home-spun web ! " " We 
 cannot bring them back. Oh ! no, — tears cannot re-animate 
 the cold clay, though they drench the still white shroud. Groans 
 cannot reach the ■ dull cold ear of Death,' though the heart- 
 strings crack at every wail." 
 
 " We cannot bring them bach. Oh ! no, but we can go to 
 them. 
 
 " Can the grave those ties dissever 
 
 Which the very heart-strings twined ? 
 Must the spirit part for ever 
 
 With the friends she leaves behind ? " 
 
MORE DECIDED HETERODOXY. 119 
 
 U I heard a voice from Heaven, saying, c Awake and sing, ye that 
 dwell in the dust' " 
 
 " That which thou sowest is not quickened except it die" 
 " A good deal better off there than . she was here, in this un- 
 kind world." Truth! Truth! 
 
 " Death cannot come untimely, if we're fit to die ; 
 The less of this cold earth, the more of Heaven ; 
 The earlier death, the earlier immortality." 
 
 " And so the precocious ancients, when only believing in a 
 heathen hereafter, declared: 'Those whom the gods love die 
 young. 
 
 Young — escaped from earth's dark sorrows ; and withering mor- 
 tifications ; and affection-chilling influences ; and false friends ; 
 and cold looks ; and distracting doubts ; and harrowing fears ; 
 escaped as a bird to the mountains. 
 
 " I heard the angels singing, 
 
 As they went up thro' the sky ; 
 An infant's spirit bringing 
 
 To its Father's home on high. 
 Happy thou so soon ascended, 
 
 With thy shining raiment on : 
 Happy thou whose fight is ended, 
 
 And the crown so quickly won. 
 
 Having obtained from her father an affirmative, which sounded 
 so like a negative that it might have been taken for either, Mary 
 generally accompanied the Leslies to the evening services at 
 Courtenaye's church, and the more frequently she did so, the 
 more distasteful and insipid became her usually frivolous and but- 
 terfly-life, relieved only by her visits to the poor and wretched 
 before named, which, because it was more satisfactory to her 
 generous heart, she had greatly multiplied. 
 
 Frequently too, she met the young preacher in circles where they 
 mutually visited, especially at the Leslies ; and whatever her opinion 
 might have been, he was nearer the enchanted ground of " Hero- 
 worship" now than he ever was before, though she never repeated 
 the enquiry of Julia, after the first night of their acquaintance. 
 
 Why ? — Deponent saith not. 
 
 Wherever and whenever they met, he always seemed, without 
 effort, to be at her side, with his quiet way of making all things 
 so agreeable and interesting ; he conversed about her [poor pen- 
 sioners, and her visit to the sick ; drew out her ideas on various 
 
120 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 subjects, and listened with profound interest to her original and 
 piquant remarks on character and things ; and she fastened so 
 firmly on his reciptive nature, that he never saw her graceful 
 form enter or depart without a secret thrill, whose depth he 
 scarcely acknowledged even to himself ; and had not an accident 
 betrayed the one to the other how far each had strayed in love's 
 labyrinth, he might have left unrolled this illuminated page in 
 the secret history of his heart's wanderings. 
 
 " Did the thought ever occur to you, Henry, that Fred is not 
 insensible to the fascinations of Mary ?" demanded Mrs. Leslie. 
 
 " I scarce can tell, he is such an extraordinary fellow, and so 
 Proteus-like in his character. Why did you ask, my love ?" re- 
 plied her husband. 
 
 " Because I think he loves her ; you know women are keen- 
 eyed in these heart-matters, and I feel deeply for him. He has no 
 chance now, though I used to fancy she liked him." 
 
 ' A few months after this they had been spending together one 
 of those old-fashioned delightful evenings they all so much en- 
 joyed, and Mary, as usual, had been stealing all hearts by the 
 magic of her voice, when rising from the piano, a small chain to 
 which was attached a host of jewelled "need-nots," broke, scat- 
 tering them far and wide. 
 
 Seizing a taper from the instrument, Fred Leslie commenced a 
 search for the " provoking little things," as he termed them, 
 when a sudden opening of the door swept a current of air past 
 the flame and brought it in contact with the flounce of Mary's 
 thin evening dress, and in an instant it was in a blaze ! 
 
 With a wild shriek she flew towards Courtenaye, exclaiming 
 " Oh, save me ! save me !" and, quick as thought, ere her terrified 
 friends could think or act, he seized a table-cover, and enveloping 
 the palpitating form of the terror-stricken girl, exclaimed, "I 
 
 will save you beloved ! I will save you !" You 
 
 are saved ! God be praised !" and on his removing the 
 friendly wrapper, he displayed to her agonized friends the dark 
 scorching and fringed tinder of her dress, but little injury to the 
 object of their solicitude^ except a sew blisters on her arms 
 and hands. 
 
 '\ Would to God [I had been] Courtenaye !"/exclaimed Fred 
 
MORE DECIDED HETERODOXY. 121 
 
 Leslie, as he prest Man's band at the door of her father's house 
 at parting on the eventful night. 
 
 Perhaps (as before remarked), but for this rude rending the 
 veil from the heart's secret of each, it had slumbered on all unre- 
 vealed ; full well Mary knew her father would never sanction her 
 union with one on whom he looked as a very Pariah of religion ; 
 and deeply did Courtenaye feel that with all the varied at- 
 tractions of her character, it was deficient in the one point, 
 for, with the quickened glance of renewed intellect intuitively 
 penetrating the mazy springs of human action, he had read this 
 sad, and to him bitter truth, that she was not a "new 
 creature in Christ Jesus." 
 
 Poor Mary ! often stirred to the quick by his earnest appeals 
 from, the pulpit, and impressed by the consistency of his 
 character, she yearned to be better than she was ; but she 
 had never felt how deep was her need of the atoning blood 
 to cleanse^her soul ; perhaps she even doubted if she were among 
 the guilty ones for whom the Fountain was opened ; she 
 had never heard the pastor of her " own church" talk anything 
 about " except a soul be bom again of water and of the spirit ;" he 
 had never held up a crucified Redeemer as a constraining motive 
 to holiness ; and her education at Mrs. Gregory's was one most 
 unlikely to lead to the foot of the Cross ; hence, though striving 
 to be u better than she was," it ended there ; the teacher, not the 
 teaching, was becoming daily and hourly her life-pulse, till the 
 tones of his voice, or the echo of his footsteos falling on her 
 hushed heart, absorbed every other feeling, leaving her insensible 
 to all, save the bliss of his presence. 
 
 And Courtenaye ? He loved her. If not with the enthralling 
 passion of the impulsive undisciplined heart of Mary, yet with a 
 a deep concentration of tenderness such as only men of his tem- 
 perament can reveal ; wave upon wave had rolled over his heart, 
 depositing upon its quiet shore some drifted treasure from 
 Love's ocean, till its full tide overflowed, flooding his being with 
 an undreamed-of creature-bliss. 
 
 He loved her as those only can love who live under an 
 abiding, controlling influence of religion, which, instead of 
 freezing the bright and blessed up-gushings from the fountain of 
 creature-affection, throws an elevating halo round it : not re- 
 quiring that the object should be loved the less, but the 
 bountiful Giver more. 
 
122 A LIFE-LONG STORY- 
 
 Ah ! that is a traitor-interpretation of the Great Teacher's 
 lesson, " be ye tender-hearted" that would envelope it in the 
 mists of joyless seclusion, and stem those refreshing streams sent 
 to irrigate our wilderness life : that would up root these way-side 
 flowers planted by our loving Father to perfume our pilgrim 
 path, and leave the mysterious heart, with its unsounded depths 
 of feeling, a solitary polar-plant round which no blossom of joy 
 may twine. 
 
 There was indeed a marked difference in the love of these two 
 young beings, formed each for the tenderest emotions ; Mary had 
 set up an idol on her heart-altar, to which incense was constantly 
 burning, and vain worship was ever offered. His was the master- 
 hand that alone could wake the hidden melody of her soul's full 
 chords. His voice the magic key that penetrated its many 
 mysterious wards. He blended with all her young life's dreams 
 of bliss — nay, he was that life itself. 
 
 Courtenaye could have laid all his rich deep love at his 
 Master's feet, had He asked that overpowering question,— 
 " Lovest thou me more than these f " 
 
 Alas ! for the heart that gathers up its vast powers of feeling 
 from the varied foci of its outer and inner being, and anchors 
 the rich argosy on some shifting sand to be soon drifting chartless 
 and solitary through the surges of life, without one ray from the 
 guiding Star. 
 
 " Little children, keep yourselves from idols." 
 
 How loth we are to learn this mercy-lesson ! "We find 
 our idols "clay," and then, oh! not till then, " bewail our 
 worship." 
 
 Yet, 'tis sweet, 'mid all, to think that 
 
 " He who sits above, 
 In his calm glory, will forgive the love 
 His creatures bear each other, e'en if blest 
 With a vain worship, for its close is dim 
 Ever with grief, which leads the wrung soul 
 Back to Him." 
 
 " Its close is dim ever with grief." How touching ! How sug- 
 gestive ! The beginning, bright as the noon-day sun ! the close, 
 *' dim with grief." 
 
 " Little Children keep yourselves from Idols." 3 
 
A TURNING POINT. 
 
 123 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 % toning faint. 
 
 " Oh ! when will man each boon despise 
 That makes a brother mourn ! 
 And seek, where it alone resides, 
 In others' bliss— their own ! " 
 
 " Mary," exclaimed the doctor, in a voice somewhat above 
 concert-pitch, for his temper had lost its equilibrium, because his 
 extravagant cook had forgotten to reduce by one the number of 
 peppercorns in the bread sauce. " Mary ! are you going to hear 
 that canting fellow again ? You are always running after him, 
 and for my part I can't think what it will all come to !" 
 
 " I was going to accompany the Leslies, dear papa," meekly 
 replied Mary, though she flushed to the temples, ^ " but if you 
 wish me to remain and pfay to you, I will do so with pleasure." 
 
 " No ! I don't wish you to remain ! you know I always like a 
 little quiet after dinner,— if the dinner is eatable!" and here the 
 sore spot being touched which had emitted the ill humour on 
 his unoffending child, which he dared not vent on his treasured 
 cook — so true is that line of Juvenal, — 
 
 " The doves are censured, when the crows are spared." 
 
 he added, "I believe there never was a man in the world 
 tormented to death as I am ! what with onething and another, 'tis 
 enough to drive me mad ! But you can please yourself, as you 
 always do, without any reference to me." 
 
 The injustice of this remark pained Mary deeply : and she 
 felt the tears struggling 'neath her quivering lid, but she only 
 replied, 
 
 " I will send and tell the Leslies not to wait for me, then, dear 
 
124 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 papa," though she saw that nothing she could say;" or do at that 
 peculiar moment would be right. 
 
 The worthy man's spleen was turned into another channel by 
 this remark, and he exclaimed, — 
 
 11 Whatever Henry Leslie, who is really a clever, well-meaning 
 fellow, can find in listening to that mountebank's ranting I can't 
 conceive for my part ! I would have them, every man jack of 
 them, hunted out of the town with the ' Rogues^ March' playing 
 after them, turning the world upside down. Thank God, I never 
 got such tom-fooleries into my head, and only wonder that any- 
 one belonging to me should find pleasure in running after these 
 oily-tongued coxcombs, who no doubt make a good living out of 
 the ridiculous credulity of their followers without working for it. 
 I shouldn't be surprised, if, by and by, some rich, good-looking 
 girl takes it into her head to make him an offer, for I hear that's 
 the go now-a-days wherever there are plenty of loaves and 
 fishes ! But, by G— ! if ever a daughter of mine made such a 
 fool of herself I would cut her off with a shilling ! " 
 
 Having run himself out of breath by this grandiloqueut 
 crusade against men and actions of whom he knew nothing, and 
 wound-up by this almost pre- Adamite threat of " cutting off with 
 a shilling" — the ready, pis oiler of vulgar souls to whom money 
 is life's Alpha and Omega, and the chink of gold the deepest 
 heart music — the doctor shook himself into his easy chair and 
 Mary slowly and sadly left the room. g 
 
 " Who is that governor is going to cut off with a shilling ? " 
 asked John Grenville, who was standing suspiciously close to 
 the door, when Mary opened it. " You, fair lady, in case you 
 should sully the family escutcheon by a beggarly marriage ? " and 
 he sneered bitterly. 
 
 Mary made no reply, but hastened to her room to give vent to 
 her wounded feelings in tears ; and then she sent to inform Julia 
 of her inability to accompany her that evening. 
 
 There was no small amount of ' self-denial in this act, dear 
 reader, and there are many young ladies now-a-days, who, under 
 similar circumstances, would fling on' their shawls and hats, and, 
 with a toss of the head, developing but a very small bump of 
 self-respect, exclaim, " who cares for crusty old pa ! " invade the 
 sanctuary with as much levity as she would join a raffle or 
 a polka. 
 
 Let us see Mary's reward for this sacrifice. 
 
A TURNING POINT,] 125 
 
 i( Havn't you been out to-night, Mary ? " demanded the 
 doctor, as, slowly drawing his body out of his easy degree, he 
 saw her sitting near him reading, or, at any rate, with an open 
 book in her hand. 
 
 " No, dear papa, I thought you did not like my going out, so 
 I remained with you." 
 
 Now this appeal to his better nature went straight home, and 
 he felt how unjust his conduct had been to one who ever yielded 
 to his wishes — reasonable or unreasonable, — with the sweetest 
 grace, but (and the good man is only a specimen of a genus), 
 this very feeling made him speak roughly : when his nature was 
 softened — he feared to compromise his dignity by seeming to 
 relent. 
 
 " Who said I didn't want you to go ? I am sure / did'nt ! 
 You can go where you please, 'tis no business of mine ! " he 
 exclaimed. 
 
 " Am I never to do right again," mentally sighed Mary; but 
 she made no reply, for her father bounced out of the room. 
 
 What a desponding feeling comes over the soul when con- 
 strained to say, " I can never do right! whatever I do, with the 
 best intention, always seem to turn out wrong." 
 
 Never mind, desponding believer, the motive shall meet its 
 reward some day, by being at last understood. It is not always 
 the worth or extent of the outer evidence by which actions 
 should be judged, but by the ruling indwelling principle, and 
 even when that 'principle is the loftiest that can animate even 
 an arch-angel's mission, who has not felt the heart grow faint, 
 and the footsteps " ready to halt" before the stinging vexations, 
 the withering cares, the counter influences of every day life, and 
 but for the " sufficient grace," would yield to despair. 
 
 Who is there that has not found it a hard faith-trial to 
 lean practically and passively on this indwelling arm of 
 strength ? 
 
 Ay, " it is far, far easier to gather up the soul's energies, and 
 brace them for vigorous exertion, even on the stirring arena of 
 conflict, when called upon to make a stand before the world for 
 the honour of its Master," than to take up life's hourly cross, 
 and bear it with unaltered brow, and unchanging eye, onward 
 and upward through this soul-trammelling earth. 
 
 But so it must be; these are helps to the education oj the 
 immortal soul^ (trifling and distasteful though they seem) ; and He 
 
126 ^ LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 " who sees the end from the beginning" will lead thee by no 
 rougher road than is necessary," " thy Father know* it all" 
 
 " Give to the winds thy fears ; 
 Hope, and be undismayed ; 
 God hears thy sighs and counts thy tears ; 
 God shall lift up thy head. 
 
 Through waves, and clouds, and storms, 
 
 He gently clears thy way. 
 Wait thou his time, so shall this night 
 
 Soon end in joyous day.'' 
 
 " I say, Redman ! have you heard that Saint Courtenaye has 
 made a stunning bet that in less than a twelvemonth he will 
 be master of this house, and have the handsomest woman in the 
 three counties for his wife ? " exclaimed J. Grenville, one day, 
 as the wine vanished with the volocity of an unsuccessful man's 
 friends after a snug' picked dinner at the doctor's. 
 
 Mr. Redman laughed, and gave three suggestive nods of his 
 
 fat head. 
 
 " Do you mean to say that ridiculous story is flying about the 
 town ?" asked the doctor, only half roused from his usual lethargic 
 indifference, for of late his worthy son, for reasons best known 
 to himself, had plied him almost to surfeit with the " sayings and 
 doings" of Courtenaye, and he was only half vive to the remark. 
 
 " Yes," answered J. Greville, " and that he never intends to 
 marry any woman with less than ten thousand pounds ! " 
 
 " The impertinent jackanapes ! " growled the doctor, " though 
 in this respect, he is not singular, I believe," and he looked hard 
 at Whyom. 
 
 "I have heard for a fact that he should say so ! and that Miss 
 Grenville calls him her guardian angel, and vows she will never 
 marry any one else ! " remarked Whyom, whose vanity Mary had 
 incurably wounded when she rejected his adored self, fine 
 voice, and Apollo curls. 
 
 " So have I," chimed in Redman. 
 
 " Pack of nonsense ! " exclaimed the doctor, raised three 
 degrees nearer to summer heat, " I don't believe she cares for 
 the fellow any more than any of the other misses, who make it 
 a part of their religion to beset and run wild after anything that 
 wears a choker and a black coat!" 
 
 " I don't quite agree with you on this point, my dear sir," 
 
A TURNING TOINT. 127 
 
 said Redman, with professional caution, " though I generally find 
 your views of character and circumstance discriminating and 
 correct." 
 
 " Of course, not against positive evidence," sneered Grenville 
 11 I have seen notes constantly sent and re-sent between them, and 
 I believe she does like him, whatever he may feel or pretend," 
 and (seeing the colour mount in his father's facej he added, 
 " she knows her subject in you, governor, and that she winds 
 you round her finger." 
 
 " I don't believe one word of it," shouted the doctor, 
 thoroughly roused. 
 
 " Tis a generally received opinion," remarked Whyom. " I 
 heard Captain Slight tell his sister the other day, that you had 
 given your consent, on the night of the fire affair, out of Grati- 
 tude for the marvellous exploit which any school-boy would 
 have performed, and that he heard it from one of the preacher's 
 most intimate friends." 
 
 " Pack of lies throughout ! " again shouted the doctor, who, 
 in the heat of his insulted dignity repealed the union between 
 good breeding and refined phraseology. " Pack of lies ! " he 
 repeated with increased energy, " so don't let me hear anv more 
 of it." J 
 
 '' But, my dear father," said J. Grenville, with a diplomatic 
 desire for peace, but really to promote discord — cognizant that 
 even an implied contradiction would work his sire into a 
 domestic Etna, " if Mary loves the fellow, and there seems no 
 doubt on the subject, what objection should you have to him 
 for a son in law ? " 
 
 " / have him for a son in law ! " vociferated the doctor, "who 
 put that into your head ? Do you think I want to be prayed 
 and preached to death by such a smooth-tongued, canting fellow ! 
 His shadow shall never darken this threshhold while I am master ! 
 I'll see to that !" and he struck the table with conclusive force. 
 
 " If I may take the liberty of suggesting, my dear sir," ob- 
 served Redman, at a "go-on" wink from John Grenville, "I 
 would lose no time in informing this young man of your senti- 
 ments more fully ; for it is very strange he should give out, as 
 I have known for a fact he does, that ' he would soon bring the 
 old gentleman to his senses.' " 
 
 " Will he, though, the insolent puppy ! No doubt he thinks he 
 will wind me round his finder, as he dees other fools who are 
 
128 A LIFE-LOXG STORT. 
 
 ready to eat nim up I No. no. Master Courtenaye, you won't 
 find me a Leslie, or a love- sick miss, I promise you ! And as 
 to your only marrying a woman with a fortune, you beggarly 
 sneak, not one shilling of mine shall ever see the inside of your 
 methodistical pocket, and if my daughter dares to think of— 
 
 u Hush, hush ! my dear sir," artfully interposed J. Grenville. 
 
 u I won't hush ! " roared the doctor. u Mind yourself; sir ! 
 I say if she dares think of marrying that oily-tongued knave I 
 will cut her off with a shilling.'' 
 
 k ' You won't be so severe as that, sir, I am sure," simpered 
 TThyoni, well pleased at the promising aspect of their vile 
 plot. 
 
 iC Indeed, but I would though, and so she shall see, if I am 
 spared till to-morrow morning ! " 
 
 < ; Come, come, sir. take a little wine, and never mind the 
 fellow's impertinence."' said Eedman soothingly. 
 
 " Yes. take a little wine, governor," superadded his " hope- 
 ful." "You mustn't think "of running a tilt against all the 
 youug ladies in the town, who roundly declare that Mary is the 
 most fortunate girl in the world for having such an easy-going 
 papa, and u heavenlv-minded " lover, who plays his deep game 
 for the loaves and fishes like the rest of his clique^ by throwing 
 dust into the eyes of ■ darling papas and mammas ! ' " 
 
 We need not follow these plotters through all the crafty 
 byways, now irritating, anon soothing the doctor, till at last his 
 son exclaimed, after a mock-battle with his father's intention 
 M of making his will to-morrow if he was spared, and cutting his 
 daughter off with a shilling,'' :; why not do it to-night, and 
 make yourself ridiculous at once ?" 
 
 " And what if I did, sir ! with your impertinence. ' Ridicu- 
 lous,' indeed ! By G— , 'tis come to something at last, when I 
 can't do as I like in my own house ! Redman ! " he shouted, as 
 J. Grenville rose to leave the room, casting a knowing look at 
 his brother-lawyer, " take my instructions, and Whyom here 
 will be a witness, and one of the servants " 
 
 u My dear sir, don't," interrupted Redman : ■■ you will think 
 better of it. and" 
 
 "Do as I wish, sir, or by G-^- I will send for some other 
 rogue to take vour place, who won't have your quibbles," 
 roared the doctor ; and thus intimidated, the legal knave drew 
 up a short will, which was duly signed and witnessed ; and then 
 
A TURNING POINT. 129 
 
 went to sleep, to snore off the fumes of the wine with which he 
 had been abundantly plied. 
 
 When the doctor left the dining-room, about two hours after, 
 he inquired of the footman where Miss Grenville was ? 
 
 " Gone to church with Mrs. Leslie, sir," said the tutored 
 
 lackey. 
 
 This reply once more roused the latent ire, and his master 
 thundered, — 
 
 11 Send her to me the moment she comes in !" and in a very 
 few minutes her light step was at his side, and her lip held up 
 for the accustomed kiss. 
 
 Not heeding this gentle appeal, her father turned his ruffled 
 visage full upon her, and exclaimed in a voice that he had never 
 addressed her in till then, — 
 
 "Madam! is it true that you love that 'canting fellow 
 Courtenaye ? " 
 
 The abruptness of the sacred question, an inquiry she had 
 shrunk from putting to her own heart, brought the crimson wave 
 over brow and bosom — a mute evidence of guilt to the boor- 
 ish judge who claimed, but desecrated, the prerogative of parent, 
 whereupon he showered on her cowering ear a cataract of inter- 
 rogatives none the less bitter for falling through a soliloquy. 
 
 " What did he mean by his impertinence ! Marry his daugh- 
 ter ? The beggarly hypocrite ! Without leave or license, too, 
 the knave ! Yes, yes ! no doubt, and turn him out of doors, to 
 make way for his canting, preaching crew ! He could give a 
 shrewd guess what all this praying and religion would come to ! 
 The saint ! Fine ideas he must have of the respect due to a 
 
 father ! The sneaking jackanapes, with his sanctified looks ! 
 
 Marry his daughter ! He would take good care of that ! Leave 
 
 him alone ! He should never darken his door with his " 
 
 " Papa, dear papa ! " interrupted Mary, in an imploring, 
 terrified voice, "indeed, indeed you are wrong. Mr. Courte- 
 naye has never made proposals to me, or spoken of love. Oh, 
 who has told you these horrible untruths ? " and she wept pas- 
 sionately, upon which the doctor, who looked upon a woman's 
 tears as something of a family hydrophobia, bounced out of the 
 room with a running, or rather jerking, accompaniment, — 
 
 " Women could never get on without tears ! Hated scenes ! 
 Hated domestic Niobes ! Had enough of that long ago ! " (in 
 
130 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 graceful allusion to his first wife). " Shouldn't be himself a?ain 
 for sis months ! Wanted to kill him, and the sooner the letter! 
 He had settled the matter, though, that was one comfort ! They 
 should see he wasn't the weak fool people took him for, when 
 the Will was read ! " and so on. 
 
 Now, though partly under the influence of wine, partly goaded 
 on by his friends, the doctor had executed the said Will, he had 
 no more serious intention of its being carried out, than he 
 had of lecturing on the u Origin and Progress of Povertv," or 
 proposing a " Philosophical Inquiry into the Cause and Effect of 
 great Authors seldom living with their Wives," at the next 
 meeting of the firm carrying on the business for promoting 
 cruelty to animals, of which he was a sleeping partner, in tin- 
 shape of a Poor-La w Guardian ; but with a false notion of some- 
 thing being due to his offended dignity, he scorned to betray th< 
 relentings stealing over his heart when he thought of Mary's 
 unvarying self-sacrifice to his wishes ; while he secretly deter- 
 mined " to do away with that Will, at all events, if spared to see 
 another day ;" and though it was a very late hour, he abso- 
 lutely despatched a servant to request "that Inure la-dnian," 
 as he inwardly baptized his legal friend, to " step up to him the 
 first thing in the morning ; " but as his worthy son saw signs of 
 "fine weather " in the domestic barometer after the late squalls, 
 he gave a hint to Redman, who was "unfortunately obliged to 
 run up to town." 
 
INFINITESIMAL LAWYERS. 131 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 " Whether Law begot logic, or logic begot Law, I know not, but there is 
 often a pleasant kind of confusion between them." 
 
 In order fullv to comprehend the " got-up " dinner, picked 
 guests, and pre-arranged result the last chapter chronicles, it may 
 be as well to explain a little more fully the position of John 
 Grenville, which he considered ample excuse for his iniquitous 
 diplomacy. 
 
 Unaccustomed from his cradle to lay the slightest restraint on 
 his inclinations, by the time he had reached his majority he 
 found himself deeply involved, and among other transactions, 
 those of betting and gambling to a frightful extent were not the 
 least destructive at once to moral principle and the money- 
 concern. Having borrowed largely upon his reversionary interest 
 at ruinous discounts, which (unfortunately for him) he found no 
 difficulty in doing— his prospects being generally considered 
 f ' good," and holding out sufficient security to any speculative 
 brigand to supply his wants — he had long meditated on the 
 possibility of gratifying, at one and the same time, his intense 
 desire for money and his dislike to his sister ; but even with one 
 of his father's easily-worked-on temperament this latter design 
 required tact, plot, cunning, and coadjutorship, the last two of 
 which were soon enlisted into his service in the person of Mr. 
 John Josiah Redman, attorney, whose readiness to execute any 
 pettifogging that paid, or any secret villany promising to pay, 
 rendered him very useful to his more openly circumspect legal 
 brother, who found him on this occasion quite up to his work. 
 
 K 2 
 
132 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 In truth, this Mr. John Josiah Redman was one of those 
 Pariahs infesting every profession, and his character had been thus 
 correctly estimated by a barrister whom his knavery had vic- 
 timised, "the man will do anything for money !" and perhaps no 
 more decided proof of the correctness of this opinion could be 
 adduced than the eagerness with which this villain entered into 
 J. Grenville's diabolical scheme against his unoffending sister. 
 
 Valuing friends and acquaintances according to their troy- 
 weight, the first question asked by this wily lawyer, either on a 
 home-circle introduction, or a business application, was, "can 
 anything be got out of them?" If they were "well to do in 
 the world," they were invited to dine, toadied to repletion, and 
 solicited to stand sponsor to the last little Redman ; and though 
 the polite " decided dislike to stand" had often followed his 
 complimentary request, the shrewd man was by no means 
 daunted, but went on toadying and grasping wholesale. 
 
 Added to a worthy amount of perseverance and plodding, he 
 
 always had on hand a good staple commodity of low cunning, 
 
 which having once or twice proved more than a match for a deed 
 
 of common sense executed upon fair and honourable principles, 
 
 his family — the female members especially — looked upon him as 
 
 already under the Chancellor's wig, and his office — or rather his 
 
 stool — up two pairs of stairs, exchanged for the woolsack ; but 
 
 while these dear, confiding creatures indulged in such sanguine 
 
 dreams, Mr. John Josiah knew better; he knew that, malgrehis 
 
 fox-like development, he had been tapped on the shoulder by 
 
 several of the moral police, and, moreover, had been most 
 
 completely shown up by one of his ci-divant toadied friends, 
 
 who had discarded his mask, greatly to his damage as a lawyer 
 
 and honest man ; but this expose he prudently refrained from 
 
 noticing, as the before-named judicature was cognisant of his 
 
 shuffling transactions, and he smarted under the lash, putting on 
 
 a look of injured innocence that told powerfully in his favour 
 
 with the confiding members of his family and acquaintance ; 
 
 while the initiated congratulated him on his display, though 
 
 somewhat late, of that " discretion" which is the best part of 
 
 "valour" all the world over. Like many others in that scheming 
 
 age, whose caution should have steered clear of the quicksands, 
 
 Mr. John Josiah had a bold spirit for speculating. No matter 
 
 however wild and visionary the proposed project, if it only held 
 
 out a gossamer chance of " telling," he was soon the holder of 
 
INFINITESIMAL LAWYERS. 133 
 
 no end rising shares, and though, as may be imagined, some 
 victim-client was minus rents collected by the grasping lawyer — 
 or trust-money deposited with him— though he unscrupulously 
 robbed the aged and the young, 'twas " no odds to anybody ;" 
 he contrived to maintain a tolerably respectable appearance, and 
 by the assistance of his boasted family connexion, to " keep his 
 head above water," no matter who sunk beside him. Moreover, 
 he adroitly enough threw the dust of hypocrisy into the eyes of 
 the facile members of his family, passing for a religious man, and 
 regularly calling his over- worked maids into family prayer ere he left 
 home for business, and contrived to get respectable securities to 
 many a cftsrespectable transaction, as well as his large loose bodily 
 proportions, protected by a superfine over-all, and " scientific" 
 trowsers, to say nothing of a wondrous display of snowy shirt- 
 front studded with coral of rather a fuller colour than a pair of 
 furious whiskers, which he cultivated to such an unseemly extent 
 that their points touched his shoulders. His neighbours did say 
 — but perhaps it was only envy — that the small lawyer's display 
 of apparel was at the expense of his wife's wardrobe, her's 
 being of such very questionable dimensions that it had long been 
 a favourite matter of quizzing among his chums, some of whom 
 not unfrequently amused themselves by calling out, " I say, old 
 boy, why don't you give your wife a new parasol?" or, " Redman, 
 my fine fellow ! your wife's bonnet is the shabbiest in the parish ; 
 why don't you buy her a new one ?" and so on. To each and 
 every inquiry of the kind he would reply by significantly pointing 
 with his right hand over his left shoulder, an action his friends 
 evidently understood by the shouts of laughter which followed 
 each perpetration of the eloquent movement. 
 
 The hapless lady just referred to (the very reverse of a 
 Zantippe, and a distant connexion of the Grenvilles, to whom 
 Mary had frequently shown much kindness), was the passive 
 anvil whereon Mr. John Josiah regularly hammered out his coarse, 
 self-sufficient prejudices to their extremest proportions, and he 
 had a low-minded satisfaction in inflicting petty acts of injustice 
 and meanness towards her sex, which sprung from their very 
 inability to cope with him, and his own want of moral courage to 
 meet his fellow with the weapons he brandished so mercilessly oyer 
 them. Thus, as she never retained either a good or bad impression 
 for three consecutive hours, the weak but well-meaning wife of the 
 small lawver exercised no salutary influence over her imperious 
 
134 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 lord ; and after the cares of business he generally amused himself 
 by exacting the minutest account of every inch of candle, the pre- 
 cise time an ounce of pins "lasted," tt *-.cSt number of yards 
 
 that could be " made do " for little calico garments or any other 
 material required for domestic purposes. 
 
 Then he extorted no small amount of real, hard labour from 
 his " good ladv," with a view to the saving of an extra servant- 
 girl's wage, though, as one of these generally ill-used "greatest 
 plagues in life " pathetically remarked, " he was two people's work 
 hisself! he expected that not only all the household duties should 
 be superintended by his wife, but that she should act as valet de 
 chambre and preside over the " vexed questions n of shirt-collars, 
 and cravat-tying, till at length her no great amount of physique 
 surrendered after a struggle, and the professional gentleman con- 
 descended to take upon ''hisself" the superintendance of the 
 above-named household mysteries, adding to it "instruction 
 gratis" to the parlour-maid in the abstruse science of lighting a 
 fire from the top to save fuel, and in the most economical use of 
 patent black-lead in polishing the drawing-room stove. But, alas ! 
 it was not long before the man's house became a species of family 
 inquisition on a small scale, over which he presided with Bonner- 
 like strictness. No domestic matter dared to be arranged without 
 a " consultation" with him ; not a penny spent without his leave ; 
 no member of the cowed circle dared hold up the right hand if 
 he said " hold up the left." No one presumed to say it rained if 
 he chose to say he couldn't see it ; till at length " Master says 
 so" became a law a la Darius, or " Papa is coming" a signal for 
 every smile to be smuggled out of sight, and a helter-skelter 
 scamper to the nursery or kitchen — often one and the same thing 
 in Mr. John Josiah's establishment. 
 
 Perhaps there was some little excuse for the creature in the 
 fact that, being the eldest son, from his very birth he had been ac- 
 customed to " drive everything before him," including a mother 
 who spoilt him, and a father in such wholesome fear of her that 
 he dared not contradict her ; and when the small lawyer married, 
 his wife, in her delight at being " settled at last," perpetuated the 
 mischief of the former system, never presuming to differ in opinion 
 from his vagaries, however wild, unreasonable or painful to herself 
 the indulgence of them might be ; in short, Mrs. John Josiah did 
 not begin her matrimonial life "as she intended to go on," — a mis- 
 chievous, but very frequent custom among newly-wedded pairs. 
 
INFINITESIMAL LAWYERS. 135 
 
 We have entered into the natural history of this jewel of a 
 lawyer with rather more minuteness than may be deemed neces- 
 sary, but as he is a stereoscopic sketch, we hope thereby to warn 
 our readers against forming acquaintance either legally, socially, 
 or matrimonially with characters who, like Mr. John Josiah 
 Redman, will elaborate from any and every circumstance in life 
 "something to be turned into money." 
 
 A clever writer of the last century says, " the best thing any- 
 one can do after suffering from a fault they have committed is to 
 warn others from falling into the same." So, when a man's 
 character is known to be dangerous, the highest benefit that can be 
 conferred on society is to boldly point him out as such ; and while 
 to pass over an injury inflicte'd upon one's self is magnanimous 
 and Christian-like, to remain silent when we may raise the warn- 
 ing voice in defence of Truth and Virtue for fear of being con- 
 sidered " censorious " or "uncharitable" is a false, pernicious, 
 unhealthv sentimentality. Calling actions and characters by their 
 proper names is as much a requirement of the age as " right men in 
 the right places." The whole frame-work of society is becoming 
 rickettv by the thoughtless substitution of sweet for bitter, and 
 bitter for sweet, which characterises it, and by which " the false 
 becomes so closely interwoven with the true — that which is ex- 
 pedient so readily adopted instead of that which is right ;" — and so 
 little do even " professing people " express their real thoughts for 
 fear of what others will say, that it is easy enough to realize the 
 idea of Tallyrand, " the faculty of speech was given to enable 
 people to conceal their thoughts." 
 
 If an action is wrong, which man possesses the greatest amount 
 of charitv, he who has the moral courage to say so, pointing out 
 the perpetrator, thereby putting others on their guard, or he who, 
 from fear of incurring censure as " uncharitable," allows the 
 action and its consequences to accumulate and spread its venom, 
 while the author exults in his success ? 
 
 Charity ! — Is that charity which stands by with stony indiffer- 
 ence and sees the unwary and unsuspecting drawn into the net of 
 the destroyer, without raising a voice of friendly warning ? 
 
 Charity! — Is that charity which hears the whisper of malice, 
 the blighting insinuation, and holds its peace lest the " world " 
 should^be offended ? Out upon such a spurious interpretation of 
 the Master's teaching, " whatsoever ye would that men should do 
 unto you, do ye even so unto them! " Shall the moral murderer go 
 
136 -A- LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 free, and the manslayer be punished ? Nay, not if we obey the 
 summons to the 
 
 " Right, and True, and Beautiful," 
 sounding out in all around us that sin has not marred. 
 
 The weak Whyom was the other party that J. Grenville found 
 no trouble in enlisting as his managing committee, to the diaboli- 
 cal plot of whose success mention has already been made ; and 
 upon the finale of which he gave Redman a document entitling 
 him to the sum of two thousand pounds as soon as the " estate 
 realized," fully determined meanwhile, by some hitch or other in 
 the "glorious uncertainty of law," to "get out of paying him ;" 
 while John Josiah, by no means behind in roguery, made up his 
 mind to " apply the job as a thumb-screw" whenever it was needed 
 to extort money from the spendthrift's pocket. 
 
 It would be difficult to furnish reasons for J. Grenville's dislike 
 to his sister. It might have been because she stood in the way 
 of the whole of the property he so deeply needed and coveted — 
 his gambling, profligate career having lightened his purse and 
 reputation, of which fact every one was more cognizant than 
 his worthy father, who little dreamed of the race of dissipation 
 his hopeful had run, or how ruiuously he was involved in betting 
 transactions. 
 
 It might have been because she had refused one of his boon 
 companions whom he had selected for her, in the person of a 
 'young man who bore the preface " Hon," to his name, and 
 upon the magic influence of which he drew largely on the credu- 
 lity of tradespeople — the dinners of his less Hon. acquaintance, 
 and the parasitical affections of John Grenville, besides shelter- 
 ing all kinds of dishonourable deeds, aided and abetted by that 
 prolific establishment for the education of vice, infamy, and ruin, 
 the Eace-course. 
 
 May be it was from the fact that he never could find anything 
 really to dislike in her, though he could no more understand the 
 purity and transparency of her character than a Raratongian 
 savage could the peerless creations of a Juliet or a Desdemona. 
 True, he had discovered a fresh impetus to his dislike in her 
 toleration of his especial bugbear Courtenaye, towards whom he- 
 entertained the fiercest hatred and contempt, for some reasons- 
 
INFINITESIMAL LAWYERS. 137 
 
 that, no doubt, will suggest themselves to the reader, as well'as 
 for others that will not, unless explained. 
 
 The racing week in the nourishing town of D attracted 
 
 with its usual magnetic fatality a numerous flight of unclean 
 fowl and birds of pre}'. There was the blear-eyed drunkard, 
 with emaciated form and palsied hand ; the seducer, with 
 " words softer than honey," and hell in his heart ; the gambler, 
 with fevered brow and lurid eye ; the blasphemer, with defiant 
 oaths and God-insulting ribaldry ; the midnight robber with 
 cowering form and tiger tread ; the noontide murderer, with 
 yelling crowds rushing to his death-work in the ring of the 
 brutaf fight; the poisoner, with deadly potion, beside his victim- 
 friend ; and there too — alas ! alas ! — was the painted, faded, 
 guilt-bowed, form of woman! Oh, there were mingled votaries 
 in that heathenish gathering, where outrages were offered to the 
 "unknown gods" Honesty and Decency, that would have 
 shamed the grossest orgies of Moloch and Saturn ; and most 
 melancholy were the traces of their fiery footsteps these sacri- 
 fices left in the fated towns or hamlets in whose locale this relic 
 of the dark ages flourished. Much to the disgust of certain 
 parties, the watchmen who had drunk into the spirit of that 
 solemn charge of the prophet : " Son of Max, when I say 
 
 UNTO THE YVTCKED, THOU SHALT SURELY DIE, AST) THOU GIVEST 
 THEM NOT WARNING, NOR SPEAKEST TO WARN THE WICKED FROM 
 HIS WAY, TO SAVE HIS LIFE, THE SAME WICKED MAN SHALL DIE 
 IN HIS SINS, BUT HIS BLOOD WELL I REQUIRE AT THY HANDS," 
 
 stood upon their watch-towers proclaiming their Master's mes- 
 sage ; and it will be anticipated that foremost amid the " cer- 
 tain parties" so disgusted, figured Mr. John Grenville and his 
 choice associates. A specimen of their indignation may not be 
 here altogether out of place. 
 
 Sipping some confiding merchant's u capital wine " after dinner 
 one day, or rather one evening, in company with the aforenamed 
 Hon. Mr. Rapid, simple "Whyom, and a Captain Slight— another 
 representative young man, by the way, who was easily influenced 
 either for good or bad, and who would countenance acts in the 
 society of his jovials, edged on and supported by sympathy in 
 evil, from which his better nature would have shrunk when he 
 was alone — the conversation naturally turned upon the pending 
 races, each anticipating, with morbid anxiety the chances of 
 
138 .A. LIFE-1.DNG STORT. 
 
 "make or break" that dwelt in the four dainty feet of "Moon- 
 flyer," or slumbered in the mazy caverns of jockey ism. 
 
 Then, as a necessary sequence, the preaching, and preach- 
 ing against racing was mooted ; and in proportion to the depth 
 of indigation entertained by each towards the " insolent " per- 
 petrators of this terrible heterodoxy, each thought himself legi- 
 timately entitled to vituperate in no very refined terms. Pro- 
 bably from the fact of Courtenaye's being the most earnest 
 among earnest men — ay, and successful, too — for success is the 
 twin brother of earnestness, and springs full-blown from the 
 embrace of Faith and Hope — he was, as J. Grenville said, " in 
 everybody's mouth ; " and hence came in for somewhat of a 
 latter-day-Benjamin share of their wrath and abuse ; so true is it 
 " that birds ever peck the ripest fruit." 
 
 " Let's go and hear the saint! he holds forth to-night! " ex- 
 claimed J. Grenville, after an avalanche of invective not re- 
 peatable. 
 
 " And pay the fella/i out, by getting up a jolly row," drawled 
 the Hon. 
 
 " Capital !" shouted Slight, rubbing his hands unmercifully. 
 
 u Two to one he shirks !" vociferated the wise Whyom. 
 
 " Find out his metal, if the spiritual Erostratus has got any !" 
 went on Grenville. 
 
 " Go it, my old fella/* ! try if he's plucky ! " chimed in 
 Hon. 
 
 " Capital joke, by Jove !" laughed Slight. 
 
 " Two to one he mizzles ! " wisdomed Whyom. 
 
 And then these heroes laid down their plan as follows: 
 each one was to enter the church at a different time and at a 
 different door, to avoid notice, and during the most quiet listen- 
 ing to the " saint's holding forth," Grenville was to cry " fire !" 
 which cry the others were simultaneously to take up and spread 
 the alarm, producing a " stunning confusion that should put the 
 canting' hypocrite out of preaching trim, and his fanatical crew 
 out of hearing trim, for some time to come." 
 
 Full- primed with these mischievous intentions, the disturbers 
 sallied forth, and reached the sacred edifice just as Courtenaye 
 rendered the text, in his peculiarly harmonious tones, — 
 
 "Come, now, let us reason together Turn 
 
 ye, turn ye, ivhy ivill ye die?" 
 
INFINITESIMAL LAWYERS. 139 
 
 We need not follow him in the use and application he made of 
 these most wondrous and condescending words, — the " High and 
 lofty One, who inliabiteth eternity,'" condescending to " reason," as 
 man to msta, with guilty rebels, or say how solemnly and with 
 what impassioned pleading he besought his fellow- sinner to " turn 
 and reason ; " they will be self-suggesting to the reader ; but 
 return with the disappointed party whose plot had been frus- 
 trated by the simple fact of the pew-opener showing Grenville 
 into Henry Leslie's seat, where he was vis-a-vis with Fred, and 
 side by side with his sister ! 
 
 It is a threadbare remark, yet one we perhaps seldom regard 
 and consider in all its forcible teaching, that " small causes often 
 produce great effects ;" and it is just because we forget that 
 these events, " great" to our puny minds, are but integral parts 
 of a whole in His plans to whom nought is " small" and nought 
 is "great." 
 
 We often see circumstances big with interests affecting time 
 and eternity hang on a gossamer web, and apparently precipi- 
 tated by trifles too insignificant for notice. Yet they are but 
 parts of this wondrous whole ; and it is strange that beings 
 cradled and nursed amid the grand ideas of Christianity should 
 treat as fanatic or superstitious that interposition of Deity in 
 human affairs which even Pagans recognised and acknowledged. 
 
 " How infernally provoking that I should have been shown 
 into Saint Leslie's stall, and so all our fun have been spoilt !" ex- 
 claimed J. Grenville, on their return to head-quarters. 
 
 " I was prodigiously glad to sheltaw myself behind the pew- 
 openajr," drawled Rapid. " I confess I had some misgivings 
 befa?/,- we started, and I felt terribly queaiv when that fellah 
 with his swparb voice, seemed to imiplaiv me to 'turn.' " 
 
 "For heaven's sake, Rapid, don't you get the Courtenaye 
 hydrophobia !" shouted J. Grenville, who was thoroughly ill-tem- 
 pered at being so caught, "or if you must confess, wait 'till the 
 races are over!'' 
 
 " Don't trouble your tendaw conscience about me ! Saul is 
 not among the Prophets ! " laughed Hon. " I was only ad- 
 miring the animal's points ! " 
 
 " Which points ? his ( svparb voice ' old fella/* ? " asked 
 Grenville, mimicking the conventional drawl of his friend. 
 
 " Nonsense ! you know what I mean," replied Rapid, "his 
 
140 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 attfistocwatic figure, and certainly he has the most glorious 
 eyes I evaw ssnv ! " 
 
 M Quite a divine expression ! so sanctified ! so heavenly ! as 
 the saints would say," replied J. Grenville, turning up his eyes, 
 and shaking his head with an air of mock solemnity, that sent 
 the Hon. and Whyom into convulsions of laughter. Then, 
 pouncing upon Slight, who was sitting quiet and abstracted, he 
 continued, in a louder strain, " I say, Slight, my old boy ! 
 where's your tongue? Have you hung your harp upon the 
 willows and become convarted, by way of proving the old say- 
 ing, ' the greater the sinner, the greater the saint ! ' Come, out 
 with it, man ! are you bitten ? " 
 
 The handsome, but dissipated-looking young man, thus appeal- 
 ed to coloured ; and rising, replied in a frank tone, " 1 don't 
 exactly know what you mean by being bitteti, Grenville, — but 
 if to rejoice from the bottom of my heart that our mad frolic 
 was frustrated, or if to feel as if an arrow dipt in molten lead 
 were driven into my heart, I am bitten, as you call it." 
 
 " Gammon ! all gammon ! " shouted Grenville. " Here ! pass 
 the wine, Rapid, let's get ' lushy' and drown the blues. Don't 
 show the white feather 'till the races are over, or by jingo, Saint 
 Courtenaye will go up fifty per cent !" 
 
 M I can only say," answered Slight, pushing the liquor from 
 him, and speaking in the same frank tone, l< that if all the 
 preachers I have listened to had been like this ' canting' 
 Courtenaye, I should not have been the scapegrace I am." 
 
 " Excellent ! excellent ! " vociferated Grenville, who shel- 
 tered a tolerable quantity of uncomfortable feeling he could not 
 account for under a show of uproarious mirth, " excellent ! a 
 most decided case of first-sight conversion!" 
 
 Slight only replied by wishing them good night, and as soon 
 as he left the room, Grenville shouted, " First-rate joke, by 
 jingo ! Til bet ten to one 'tis in all the cant journals to-morrow 
 morning as a second Colonel Gardiner's case !" 
 
 "Who was Colonel Gardinaw : a z^elation of Slight's?" in- 
 nocently demanded Hon. 
 
 " Not that I know of," answered Grenville. " He was one of 
 those fanatic praying-fellows infesting all circles and societies ; 
 that's all I can tell you about him, except that some catch-penny 
 author wrote his life, and that he comes in for a pretty good 
 share of worship among the sanctified ones !" 
 
INFINITESIMAL LAWYERS. 141 
 
 " How very lucid you are, my old fella/2 !" exclaimed Rapid, 
 " what has ail that to do with Slight !" 
 
 " O, Slight be hanged !" peevishly retorted Grenville. <( By 
 the way, doesn't he owe you something on the odds at G ?" 
 
 " Yes, a tidfle, but why do you ask ?" drawled Rapid. 
 
 "For want of something better to talk about, I suppose," 
 answered Grenville, and so the conversation became vapid and 
 heavy, none of the choice trio "up to the mark," and they soon 
 after separated never to meet again on earth. The sudden 
 death of his only brother called the young Hon. away from 
 
 D before the races took place ; but whether this solemn 
 
 event which made him an Earl, and a legislator to boot, had 
 any influence on his character, — whether the Spirit's gentle 
 striving was stifled as on the night of the frolic, no record 
 remains. He was drowned a few months after, while bathing on 
 one of those dangerous and ill-attended coasts that have proved 
 fatal to so many lives in our marine towns, and 
 
 u The churchyard bears an added stone, 
 The fireside shows a vacant chair, 
 Here Sadness sits, and sighs alone, 
 And Death displays his banner there, 
 But where is he ?" 
 
 The arrow shot at a venture on that evening by the faithful 
 pastor did not fall powerless ! How could it, dipped as it was 
 in the "blood that speaketh better things than that oj AbelV 
 
 Ten days after the trio separated, Grenville received from 
 Slight a promissory note for a considerable sum won by the 
 latter in a betting transaction. The document was accompanied 
 with a straightforward statement of the writer's change of 
 views and feelings, and expressive of interest for the best happi- 
 ness of his former associate. Had Grenville possessed one spark 
 of generous and honourable emotion, this would have aroused it ; 
 but he only chuckled over his canceled debt, ridiculed and 
 scoffed, and remained unchanged, amusing his acquaintances 
 with sundry ludicrous and highly-coloured embellishments of the 
 simple fact — that " Saint Courtenaye had converted Sinner 
 Slight, who was become one of his most devoted admirers and 
 followers, ready to enter the lists and do battle for him with the 
 rabid delight of a Matador into the ring of a bull-fight." 
 
142 A LIFE-LONG STORT. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Sow fiapesawt 
 
 "Tisabase 
 Abandonment of reason to resign 
 The right of thought : our 
 Last and surest refuge ; this at least 
 Shall still be mine." 
 
 We have said the doctor loved Mary, and this is true, with limi- 
 tations ; he loved his prejudices better, and while he would 
 willingly have given her in marriage to the unprincipled Honour- 
 able, the weak Whyom, the Popish Curate, or the dissipated 
 Slight, had he thought she really loved either of them, and 
 would cause him no trouble about the matter, the idea of giving 
 his child to a man who had dared to think for himself, and had 
 presumed to exercise that prerogative he arrogated to himself 
 with such uncompromising tenacity, was not for one instant to 
 be tolerated. 
 
 What ! dare to follow the dictates of his conscience in the 
 matter of religious worship ! To adopt what he believed to be 
 the only sure guide to heaven — the teachings of his Bible ! Out 
 upon such innovations ! 
 
 Whv didn't he go to his church ! " There's plenty of room, 
 God knows!" 
 
 -- What right had he "to set up his new-fangled notions, and 
 exercise his judgment in matters that only belonged to his 
 betters ! 
 
 " Fine times, indeed ! when every stripling took to thinking 
 for himself, and fancying he knew better than any one else! 
 'Twas different when he was a boy ! He knew that pretty well ! 
 and where it would all end he couldn't see, for his part ! " 
 
TRUE PROGRESSION. 143 
 
 Softly ! softly ! friend doctor ; just listen to a few rhymes : 
 are you fond of poetry ? 
 
 u Doubt's Castle, on Conjecture's sea, 
 Stable from instability 
 Eides, lashed to moorings more profound 
 Than art can solve, or wisdom sound ; 
 And thro' this vestibule have past 
 All master minds, from first to last, 
 And inch by inch, and day by day, 
 Have cut their road, and fought their way. 
 
 14 Yet, good from evil may be wrought, 
 "Who never doubted, never thought, 
 The battle brightens, but the truce 
 Rusts out the blade for want of use. 
 "Who thinks as others, and agrees, 
 With all, finds nought, and little sees, 
 Did all accord, then all might stand 
 Stock-still, and darkness drown the land." 
 
 You " don't see what all that can have to do with the sub- 
 ject ? " You " don't understand the rhymes ? " 
 
 "Well, then, let us have a little chat ; but mind, we begin with 
 the mutual understanding that " difference of opinion shall not 
 lessen friendship." That's a noble sentiment, whoever uttered it ; 
 it was neither you nor I, my dear sir. 
 You " didn't say it was ? " 
 
 "Well ! I didn't say you did ; 'twas merely a remark." 
 fC Better go on, as you are in a hurry ? " 
 
 " Very well, then, allow me to ask you a question or two ; for, 
 according to the Rev. G. W. Lewis, in one of his eloquent 
 sermons, f a question is the shortest road to reason and to con- 
 science ; it engages attention, and sets a man thinking for him- 
 self.' " 
 
 w ThinJcing for himself" Ah ! that's it ! not taking assertions 
 and ideas upon toust ; nothing is so mind-subjugating and 
 intellect-fettering as that." 
 
 " Did you, dear doctor, never hear the names of Galileo, 
 Columbus, Harvey, and a galaxy of others who set about ■ think- 
 ing for themselves I ' " 
 
 " Don't you recollect reading about the poor, once half-starved 
 Miner's son, who rose and • shook the world ? ' or the Bedford 
 Tinker, who ' thrills the world's great pulse ' even now ? or the 
 ' consecrated Cobbler,' as reverend witlings called the heaven-sent 
 
144 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 Carey ? or — but where shall we stop ? Men who have influenced 
 not only the age in which they lived, but ages extending onward 
 till time shall be no more ; men who held their patent of 
 nobility direct from the Court of Heaven : God's aristocracy, the 
 blood royal of the people ; therefore., their titles are never 
 'extinct;' they never die; the world won't let them. These 
 men set about ■ thinking for themselves.' " 
 
 "And last, but not least, dear sir, don't you recollect the 
 story of the ■ thinker for himself,' who sat ' watching the subtle 
 vapour, 
 
 1 Slow steaming from the faggot's blaze,' 
 
 'till his prophetic mind heaved with the struggles of the ' embryo 
 Alcides ? ' and he w r hispered his wondrous secret to his fellow- 
 man, who called him 'mad,' and shrouded his glorious mind- 
 light under the extinguisher of Ignorance and Prejudice (as priests 
 strove to put out the starry Galileo, but he was too deep for 
 them, with his 'move in the right direction.') They called the 
 'thinker' mad— they made him so. Bigotry hurled back the 
 great restless mind upon itself, after its vain grapplings with 
 these stagnant elements, and it gnawed and gnawed 'till it eat 
 away its own vitality. 
 
 " Poor fellow ! If, as many good people believe, it is per- 
 mitted to disembodied spirits to hover over, and look down sym- 
 pathizingly on this earth and its transitions, surely the heart of 
 the ' mad ' man must have leapt for joy as years rolled on, and, 
 some other mind set about 'thinking for itself — saw the new- 
 born infant in its cradle of sighs and tears, and took pity upon 
 it, nourished it with the fine wheat of inquiry, and clothed it in 
 the free-trade robes of experiment, till at length it grew up (not 
 to its full Titanic development, — future generations must achieve 
 that triumph), and become a giant, his feet on the Nadir, his 
 head almost at the Zenith, his Briareus arms encircling the 
 world." 
 
 " Depend on it, my good friend, it was not to connect continents 
 merely, or to increase commerce and capital merely, or to ex- 
 change lofty courtesies and kind feeling from the sultry south to 
 the frozen north merely — it does this, and 'tis well, — still less 
 was it to convey our brothers like cattle to the shambles, into 
 the fierce * red rain ' of the bloody field, that this mighty ' Alcides ' 
 has been nourished and brought up : 'tis to become in the 
 
TRUE PROGRESSION. 145 
 
 * fulness of times when God ivill reconcile all things to himself— all 
 things, whether they he things in heaven or things on earth, by that 
 man Christ Jesus' the angel flying through the world with the 
 'everlasting Gospel ;' ' every valley exalted, every mountain made 
 plain,' belting the universe with a love-jewelled zone, even as the 
 coronal rainbows are said to encircle the Andes, and evolving a 
 gracious humanity, wearing on its peaceful breast a living 
 embodiment of the God-man precept, < known, and read of all,' 
 1 Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye\ also 
 unto them.'' '' 
 
 " This may be all very true, still you cannot see what it has to 
 do with your opinion?" That Luther and Bunyan seem to be the 
 staple commodity of our clique ? " 
 
 But I believe you were just now wishing to chain Courtenaye 
 and every other ' stripling ' who set up ' thinking for themselves * 
 to the wheels of your old chariot — c Opinion/ Depend you will 
 never accomplish this. Have you never heard the wisest thing 
 uttered by the Imperial watchmaker of Germany 1 " what a fool 
 I have been to expend so much treasure and such vast quan- 
 tities of blood in trying to make people think as I do, when I 
 cannot get even two watches to go alike! 1 Therefore, my 
 friend, it is no use wasting precious time in fencing with impal- 
 pable shadows. As to ' Luther and Bunyan being our staple 
 commodities,' the grand principles, whose roots lie deep down in 
 every English heart, are our * staple commodity,' if you please, 
 and we revere the memory of those regal spirits who contended 
 •valiantly for them, and for ' the faith once delivered to the saints/ 
 the faith preached so successfully by your despised Courtenaye. 
 
 There ought to be but one religion, and people ought to be 
 made go to one church ?" 
 
 There is but one religion, dear sir, and the inspired epitome 
 of it is very brief, • Faith that worketh by love/ — 
 
 But how would you commence ' making all people go to one 
 church ? ' Would you revive the stake and the faggot ? ' Believe 
 or burn?' Smithfield or Tower Hill ? in " merry England ! " 
 > Depend it will not do! People are wiser; they have begun 
 ' thinking for themselves ' with the open Bible in their hands, 
 and they won't think or act either much amiss. Nor will they 
 have a padlock put on the book ; depend on that. 
 
 a Then why don't they all think alike, and put an end to this 
 new-fangled nonsense ? " 
 
H6 JL LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 Or in other words, why do not all people think as you do, 
 and go to your church. Is not that the idea you would convey 1 
 
 I suppose it is as possible in the nineteenth as it was in the 
 fifteenth century, that difference of opinion may be the crucible 
 from whence Truth is elaborated, and freedom of thought the 
 fountain whence it abounds for the freedom of nations \ other- 
 wise, in what quagmires of error and superstition the world would 
 long since have sunk ! 
 
 But surely, of all people, Christians should agree to] differ. 
 Why should they be ' crossing each other with jealous and alien 
 looks, guilty of such sad estrangement, and sadder effects, when 
 professing to be sprinkled with the same blood, to bear the same 
 name, to be heirs of the same inheritance ? 
 
 Why, for the trifles in which Christians cannot agree, and 
 perhaps it was never intended they should, should they stand 
 aloof from each other in essentials they can embrace ? 
 
 Why should our platforms be deserted, and our noblest 
 Societies languish, because one man's ritual is less gorgeous than 
 another's, or one ministrates in a surplice and another preaches in 
 a coat ? 
 
 Do you suppose, my dear sir, the inspired fishermen-Apostles 
 had any such crotchets as these ? 
 
 Why should brother Speed, after losing himself in the 
 twylight labyrinths of controversy, quarrel with and snub brother 
 Slow because he will not lose himself too? 
 
 Perhaps you will permit me to put a few stray thoughts on 
 paper, and give me your opinion when we meet again ? — The i 
 different churches have been aptly described as ' one broad fold, 
 parted by hurdles,' over which one-eyed Bigotry cannot look. 
 On one section is written Baptist, on another Episcopalian, on a 
 third Independent, and so on ; but there is a common distinctive 
 mark on all the partitioned sheep ; they know only the voice of 
 one Shepherd, and Him they follow ■ whithersoever he goeth,' 
 whether bearing the cross, or exulting hi victory. They all walk 
 in one 'way,' clutching the same truth, and enter through one 
 c door into life eternal, over whose shining portal is engraved, so 
 plainly that ' he who runs may read,' an inscription bearing the 
 sign-manual of the King of kings, — 
 
 " NO MAN COMETH TO THE FATHER BUT BY ME, " 
 
 and it remains uninjured through corroding centuries, 
 though desperate hands have striven to deface — or displace it by 
 
TRUE PROGRESSION. 147 
 
 lying facia of man's tradition ; but there it glows, a centralizing 
 beacon, brightening under the receding clouds and shadows of 
 xpiring prejudice, as the majestic truth it propounds reigneth 
 supreme over a subjugated world. 
 
 Ah, dear sir, depend on it, it is only that one reconciliation- 
 point between offended Deity and rebel man — the Cross, whose 
 light is powerful enough to reveal the why and wherefore of the 
 upheavings of society — the moral earthquakes that convulse the 
 world, destroying the prisons of oppression, and setting the 
 chain-bound free ; and the humble follower of his Lord knows 
 that it must be so. for His people are a • peculiar ' people, and he 
 can recognise the glorious truth in the suspended laws of nature, 
 when the proud waves became a wall of crystal adamant for his 
 cloud-led ones to pass through, or when the sun stood still on 
 Ajalon's valley. 
 
 He reads it in the rise and fall of giant empires and mighty 
 thrones — Babylon, Nineveh. Egypt. Persepolis. Rome, — traces its 
 outline in the truth-gleaming mythologies of the untutored 
 Bechuana. or the philosophical Greek, whose sacrificial altars 
 dimlv symbolized the coral keystone of that arch uniting man to 
 his Maker/' — 
 
 ; - Without shedding- of blood there is no remission," — 
 nor less distinctly is his cherished truth visible in those 
 curious pieces of wood or metal, in whose embrace slumbered 
 the ' world-starting elements of the Reformation' — in those 
 mercy-angels, the Bible, Missionary, and other societies, sprinkling 
 earth's wastes with the ' Water of Life.' 
 
 Ah ! by the light of the Cross he reads too, — 
 
 M Despise not the day of small things," — 
 
 and he thanks God, and takes courage as he looks with 
 kindling eye on the * Young England' regenerating Ragged- 
 school — rearing its healthy, cheerful face, and bearing on its 
 banner Jthe Excelsior, — 
 
 " It is not the icill of your Father in heaven that one of these little 
 ones should perish." 
 
 Thus, leaning firmly against the Cross, the believer ; j 
 
 '* Bids earth roll, nor feels its idle whirl ;" — 
 
 I ut there is no sectarianism in the Cross, my dear sir. What 
 gravitation is in the natural world, the Cross is in the spiritual,— 
 " /, if I le lifted up, will draw all men unto me." 
 
 x.2 
 
148 A LIFE-LONG- STORY. 
 
 Herein is love, and love knows nothing of sectarianism : 
 wherever " Gospel tidings" echo, there liberty lives, and Refine- 
 ment, Sympathy, and true Progression, bless humanity. Did ever 
 like glory grace the tread of the hag Superstition ? 
 
 Shall we ask the Amphitheatre, the Catacombs, the Inquisition, 
 the dungeons of Rome, to give back their immolated dead, and 
 tell 
 
 Shall we invoke the martyrs of Smithfield, or summon the 
 slaughtered Huguenots and Covenanters to reply ? 
 
 The Gospel says, " By this shall all men know that ye are my 
 disciples, if ye have love to one another. I rejoice with them that 
 joy, and weep with those that weep" and such is the language of its 
 follower ; he looks abroad into the sin and sorrow-groaning 
 world, and over his softened heart come thoughts of Him who 
 sought the abodes of guilt and misery, blotting out the former 
 in His blood, and the latter with His tears, and he learns what true 
 love and true compassion are. 
 
 Yes, he must stand over the manger where the God-child 
 veiled his glory in suffering humanity : he must wend weeping 
 into the gloom of Gethsemane, and catch the call of anguish — 
 " Could ye not watch with me one hour?" and melt under the 
 loving excuse, " the spirit is u'illing, hut the flesh iceal::^ 
 
 He must steal with Peter into Herod's judgment-hall, and 
 mark the crown of thorns and the mocking purple. 
 
 He must ascend Calvary and listen to the prayer, — 
 
 " Father, forgive them ! — " 
 from lips all smitten and bruised with the brutal blows ot 
 the fierce Roman. 
 
 He must watch the blood trickling from the languid brow, as 
 it slowly washes away that foul indignity — the soldiers' spitting, — 
 
 He must cower at the last, loud death-cry, " It is finished !" 
 — and as the x hus beholds the fountain of the great deeps 
 of God's love broken up, and overflowing a lost world, some of 
 that mercy-blood will fall on his subdued heart, and then, then 
 can he stand coldly by and see his brother perish, for whom 
 those priceless life-drops were poured out like water ? 
 
 Shall he ask, " Is he Jew or Greek ? Is he bond or free V 
 
 Ah, no ! his language is, '* Is he a sinner ?" So am I. 
 
 " Is he blood-bought V 3 So am I. 
 
 * Is he a traveller and pilgrim, way-weary and way-soiled ?" 
 So am I. 
 
TRUE PROGRESSION. 149 
 
 " Is he buffeted with temptation, and down-tredden ?" So am I. 
 
 " Is he hungry and naked, sick, and in prison?" So am I. 
 
 "Is he Christless ?" Ah, blessed be God, I am not that? 
 and with this thought flooding his soul with the light of brother- 
 hood, onward he goes into the sin-groaning world, panting to tell 
 his brother sinner of this wondrous "Saviour, whose love found out 
 even him, and beseech him to "Believe and be saved." 
 
 Oh, my dear doctor, what a brotherhood is that which the 
 Gospel teaches ! 
 
 Listen to its pass-word, settled in the council-chamber of the 
 Great King, ere time began, and anthemed by the^seraphichost as 
 they hovered in wondering delight over Bethlehem's star-lit plain, 
 — •* Peace on earth, good-will to man!'* 
 
 Yet what " peace," so long as men and women bite and devour 
 one another over the specific gravity of a shadow ? 
 
 What "good," while they burn and freeze over superstitious 
 creeds, and reject the grandest, the most humanizing precept ever 
 enunciated ? — 
 
 "Whatsoever ye would men should do unto you, do ye also unto 
 themf' — 
 
 This is true catholicity, true social enlightenment and refine- 
 ment. It is an exquisite concentration of all the homilies ever 
 penned, or the nostrums ever propounded by Peace Societies and 
 anti-slavery champions, and, acted out. would turn Imperial free- 
 booters and Royal robbers into brothers beloved, putting an end 
 to " wars and rumours of wars." 
 
 But only union, Union to Jesus, will do this. Sectarianism 
 never will. He tells you so. Listen — 
 
 " Without me ye can do nothing." 
 
 "Except ye abide in me, ye can bear no fruit.'''' 
 
 * TT ithout me ye can do nothing." Ye cannot go out into the 
 wilderness of moral and spiritual destitution, of want and woe, 
 of oppression and crime, and pour in the heavenly dew of sym- 
 pathy and help ; but ye cannot have Me while ye bite and devour 
 one another over a man-made creed. 
 
 Depend on it, my dear sir, the beat of the mighty pulse of 
 Religion " pure and undefiled" is self-vindicating, and making 
 itself heard around ; real, practical, and working, for that is only a 
 sham Religion which is not an energizing, acting inspiration, going 
 out in deeds of brotherhood in the home-walk, and in the busi- 
 ness-walk ; in the church, and in the counting-house ; in the day 
 
1^0 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 of " small things," and the day of "great things;" in fact, the 
 Religion cast up and concentrated in that brief but comprehensive 
 syllabus of Apostolic teaching, — 
 
 " The faith that worketh by love," 
 and hence reaching the broad requirements of the Gospel. 
 
 But while one brother thinks he shall be saved because some 
 one subscribed to a creed for him before he knew anything 
 about it, and another because he subscribed after he did know 
 something about it ; while one swims with gallant Luther's life- 
 jacket cast around him, and another decks himself in his robe 
 of works ; while one thinks there ought to be divorce between 
 Church and State, one or the other, or may be both, being a " little 
 profligate," and another thinks the venerable though somewhat 
 testy and jealous pair should be allowed to 
 
 "Live and love together, 
 Sharing each other's sorrows ;" 
 
 while one stands armed at all points, ready to enter the lists 
 on his hobby Successor, and " do to death" any one daring enough 
 to meddle with his myth in a gallopping consumption, and each 
 brother luxuriates on the enchanted ground of his own orthodoxy, 
 brandishing the keen-edged sword of controversy, in the ignis 
 fatuus hope of thrusting his creed through his neighbour's con- 
 science, " a stronger than he is spoiling his goods /" The great 
 enemy looks on well pleased. He sees' the "kingdom divided 
 against itself," and knows that while this strife goes on a wealth 
 of souls and bodies perish. He is aware that they are filling 
 " cisterns that will hold no water," a when strength and heart 
 shall fail ;" and he fans the flame of discord with the exulting 
 flap of his fiery wings, while men seem " ignorant of his devices." 
 
 Just fancy, now, dear doctor, what a result would ensue if all 
 the great and good people of each Protestant church (and, 
 blessed be God, they are many), would agree to " settle their 
 differences in Heaven," and fraternise — become so fashionable 
 in all but religious matters — with the grand object of making 
 an irresistible aggressive onslaught against Earth's terrible twin 
 giants, Sin and Sorrow. 
 
 Oh, what a Crusade would that be ! All ranks would catch 
 the lofty enthusiasm, even as of old, when the fiery Hermit held 
 up the Cross, or the inspired Maid waved the sacred banner. 
 
 Princes would flock to swell the ranks ! 
 
 Angels would watch the progress of the conflict ! The " spirits 
 
TRUE PROGRESSION. 151 
 
 of the just made perfect/* the loved and lost would look down 
 
 from 
 
 " Where they summer high in bliss/' 
 
 with intense desire to once more stand side by side with those 
 they left behind|! 
 
 Oh ! what a Crusade ! One blood-stained banner waving in its 
 midst ! 
 
 One Banner Inscription, — " Faith that worketh by love.*' 
 
 One inspiring Battle-cry, — "Peace on earth and good-icill to ?nen. y * 
 
 One majestic End, — " Glory to God.", 
 
 One jubilant Pcean, — "Thanks be unto God, who giveth us the 
 victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ!" 
 
 The writer recollects, with mournful vividness, even after the 
 lapse of many years, a calamity at one of our summer marine 
 resorts. It was the quiet Sabbath; the morning had been bright, 
 and the sheeny waves danced in the sun's warm smile, to the 
 music of their own rippling song. In the spacious offing were 
 gallant ships of many nations riding at anchor. To the left, 
 almost beyond the range of vision, rose irregular terraces of 
 vegetation, their dark masses strongly relieving the foreshortened 
 horizon, its looming indicative of change in the weather. The 
 sky, seemingly robed for a peace festival, was arrayed in bright 
 azure, contrasted with a few chaste slashings of silvery, downy 
 cloud, the gift of Neptune from the Nereides of the main ; and 
 involuntarily that unutterable blue lured the longing eye onward 
 to an infinity over whose jasper firmament the sable banner will 
 never unfurl, for, u there shall be no night there." 
 
 Glad notes resounded from a thousand sylvan songsters ; and 
 from variegated battalions of flowers, encamped before numerous 
 white villas, dotting the inland view, came a perfume whose odour 
 stole into the soul. 
 
 It was a lovely scene ! an Eden ere the serpent Sin blighted its 
 glory. 
 
 " Oh ! this world is full of beauty, 
 As the starry one above ; 
 And if we did our duty, 
 It would be full of love.'' 
 
152 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 Suddenly the wind changed — " flew into the north-east," as 
 sailors say, — and a hurricane commenced ; the waves, like a 
 refreshened Titan, mounting and angrily marching, crested with 
 foam, scathed by the lashing wind. The vessels pitched and 
 tossed heavily, and one or two slightly-moored small craft were 
 dashed on the beach, near to the spectators gathered to watch 
 the grand yet terrible storm, 
 
 From one of the vessels abruptly rose the piercing cry, " Man 
 overboard !" In a moment all eyes were turned to the spot, 
 and a human form was seen manfully breasting the furious 
 elements in the direction of the shore, but the dominant waves 
 bore the struggler rapidly outward, and ere boats could be 
 lowered from the ships or manned from the shore, a fearful space 
 sundered the victim from help ! 
 
 ^ Above the shriek of the . storm and roar of the waters rose 
 his rending cry ! 
 
 It was an agonizing moment! With bated breath and 
 blanched cheek every eye was strained towaids the struggling 
 man, and none asked if he were " Churchman or Dissenter?' the 
 universal spirit of Sympathy was there, leaving no room for puny 
 thoughts. 
 
 With what intensified anxiety did all watch the boats pushing 
 to the rescue— now rising on' the curling billows like birds of 
 storm — anon buried between the foaming ravines ! 
 
 Manfully did the brave rowers strain every nerve in that 
 mercy-race ! Right earnestly did their brawny arms pull to near 
 their sinking fellow ! — 
 
 " Blessings on the dauntless spirits 
 Dangers thus who nobly brave, 
 Heady life and limb to venture 
 So they may a brother save." 
 
 But all their efforts were vain. One wild shriek of despair, 
 and the victim went down ! 
 
 A piercing cry, — "Save him! for GocVs sake save him!" rang 
 through the hushed crowd, and into their midst darted an 
 agitated man, throwing his arms wildly into the air, shouting " a 
 thousand pounds for the man who saves him ! " but his starting 
 eye rested only on the spot where the waves rolled remorselessly 
 over the Perished ! 
 J Oh! the look that settled on his face, when Hope lay dead in 
 
TRUE PROGRESSION. 153 
 
 her shroud of tears, requiemed with that piercing prayer, u Save 
 him! for God's sake save him /" 
 
 The storm went down, and, like a forgiven child, when its 
 passion is spent, Nature smiled, all unheeding the desolation it 
 had wrought in its short, but stern career. 
 
 "We subsequently learnt that he whose strong cry broke the 
 stillness of the crowd was captain of the ship from whence the 
 drowned man fell, and that he was his brother ! 
 
 The former had been on shore, detained by the storm, when, 
 hearing some one had fallen overboard from his ship, he has- 
 tened towards the beach, from whence he could at once watch 
 the boats, and the struggling man, whom he recognised, shriek- 
 ing, "Save him, he is my brother /" 
 
 This is just the feeling now wanted in the various ranks of 
 those bearing commission under the Great Captain of our Salva- 
 tion, " Save him, he is my brother ! 
 
 He is perishing for whom Christ died, Save him ! 
 
 Suppose any seaman on that shore had stood, with inhuman 
 indifference, refusing to make one in the mercy -boat because he 
 was not sure all the rowers belonged to his church, or because one 
 was a Baptist, and another an Episcopalian, would not an indig- 
 nant burst have vindicated outraged humanity ? Yet it would have 
 been but to the body's rescue he refused to come ; and sudden 
 as was the stern summons, it might have wafted the soul of the 
 u brother" on the shores where 
 
 u Not a wave of grief shall roll, 
 Across his peaceful breast, — " 
 
 we know not ! but we do know that millions of immortal 
 spirits are perishing around, and men look on unmoved, with dry 
 eyes, and dryer hearts. 
 
 Oh ! for the moving cry to peal over the world, " Save him ! 
 He is my Brother !" 
 
 This would hush the thunder of battle, and wipe away the 
 tears of nations. 
 
 This would scare from our folds the stealthy prowl of the 
 Popish wolf coming but to ff maim and destroy." 
 
 This would open our Halls and Rooms,' " in season and out of 
 season,*' and an untrammeled salvation would be trumpeted for the 
 repentant believer. 
 
 This would sweep earth's wildernesses of moral blight, and 
 
154 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 they would "blossom as the rose/' ushering in that' glorious day 
 "when all the kingdoms of the world shall become the 
 kingdoms of God and of his Christ." 
 " Save Him ! He is my Brother !" 
 
 " Man the life-boat ! man the life-boat ! 
 Christian, up! and succour send, 
 See the shatter'd vessel staggers ; 
 Quick, oh quick, assistance lend ! 
 
 • • • • 
 
 There's a storm, a fearful tempest, 
 Souls are sinking in despair, 
 There's a shore of blessed refuge, 
 Try, oh try to guide them here '.' 
 
AN EVENT THAT MAY BE SKIPPED. 155 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 gfl <gbmt t|at mag be jKapfr. 
 
 " There be more things in the world than thy philosophy dreanieth of." 
 
 First Voice : — " AncTso, Saint Courtenaye, with all his gammon, 
 and praying without ceasing, has found time to trip into the 
 slough of unsanctified affection !'' 
 
 The above characteristic remark fell from the lips of that 
 " sinful man in the flesh,' Attorney Redman, to his industrious 
 wife as she sat darning his fancy socks after the turmoil of the 
 day (he had an almost infantine weakness for fancy socks and 
 shoes had this John Josiah), and he manfully made the said re- 
 mark to give vent to a large portion of spleen he had brought 
 from office, well knowing how to vex and irritate her, when he 
 dare not show off there. 
 
 " La, John ; however can you talk so ! I am sure Mr. Courte- 
 naye seems a very nice kind of young man," replied Mrs. 
 Redman. 
 
 The impressible lady had been persuaded to hear the young 
 evangelist, and " quite delighted with his preaching," as she told 
 her worthy husband, who found in this simple circumstance a new 
 subject for "making words" between them when others waxed old. 
 
 But softly, softly, Master John Josiah, what sympathy is 
 there between the pure and open-hearted and you ? 
 
 What know you of love, deeper and stronger than that coursing 
 through your gold-fevered veins for your idolized self? 
 
 What do pearls do in your mouth? Lawyers, like " charming 
 women" should not talk of " things which they don't under- 
 stand," or it may be very awkward. 
 
156 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 Move on, Mr. John Josiah ! move on ! touch not the noble 
 and the lofty — they know thee not — go thou and learn what this 
 meaneth, — 
 
 " Thou shalt not bearjalse witness against thy neighbour.'* 
 
 Second Voice : — Mr. Flint, rich, pious, bachelor Freemason, who 
 regularly went to church every Sunday morning and prayed for 
 the " widow and the fatherless, and all that are desolate," care- 
 fully buttoning up his purse-pocket meanwhile, and allowing an 
 orphan niece to struggle with penury — 
 
 " Capital way, young sir, to cramp your usefulness hy hanging 
 a millstone round your neck in the shape of a wife, especially 
 such a gay young woman as " 
 
 Fie, fie, Mr. Flint! what can you possibly know about 
 wives ! do you think they are all like Lot's ? Why do you not 
 try to induce some sister of mercy, in the shape of " a millstone," 
 to take pity on you, and humanize you a little ? You require 
 ' looking to,' depend on it, my good Mr. Flint. 
 
 Third Voice : — Miss Envynina, not very young nor very old, 
 but much given to a little spiritual flirtation in a mild way with 
 young ministers of any denomination. " Exceedingly strange that 
 such a really good- disposed young man as Mr. Courtenaye should 
 select^such a very worldly minded young]'person as Miss Grenville 
 for a wife — such a fashionist too ! " 
 
 Very strange indeed, Miss Envynina, but we know something 
 that would have been a great deal stranger. 
 
 Fourth Voice : — Curate of Saint Clement's, very " touch-me- 
 not," looking, and not much given to smile — too austere for that. 
 
 " So the spiritual Abaris is not above his price ! Easier to 
 talk religion than to walk religion when there is a bait of * loaves 
 and fishes in the way/ " 
 
 Excuse us, reverend sir, do you speak from personal experience ? 
 Your " good natured friends"|say the same of you ; hush ! hush ! 
 don't forget the lovely precept, * charity never faileth." 
 
 Fifth Voice : — Mrs. Overstock, well-to-do physician's wife, with 
 seven marriageable " girls," — 
 
 " Miss Grenville will make but a sorry wife for a poor minister, 
 with her expensive tastes and habits, and not the slightest idea of 
 domestic management! How could she have, poor thing! 
 brought up as she has been ! I feel assured that Dr. Grenville will 
 never give his consent. What prospect of happiness can there be 
 for her?" 
 
AN EVENT THAT MAY BE SKIPPED. 157 
 
 Well, dear madam, and surely this is all Miss Grenville's 
 affair, and need not agitate your compassions so powerfully.' 
 
 Sixth and last Voice : — The genius of Discord in the garden of 
 Hesperides, our ancient acquaintance Miss Scandalson. 
 
 " Pity the poor girl, who is evidently very weak-minded ; has 
 no friend to point out these things in their proper light ! If I 
 were on visiting terms with her now I would very soon open her 
 eyes to the young man's real character. I know one or two things 
 about him that if she were acquainted with would soon alter her 
 opinion and make her despise him ! Weak, wilful girl, she wants 
 a good influence ! I only wish I was " BHH 
 
 Stop, stop for one moment, my good lady — surely you cannot 
 be ignorant of the on dits of your friends [?], they say precisely 
 the same thing of you ; * that there are one or two things about 
 you, and if your character were known in its real phase, people 
 would despise you.' Some even go so far as to do so, and no 
 doubt they are among the excellent of earth ; do not, therefore, 
 lay the unction to your vanity by believing your influence so 
 potent as self-love whispers while the high-minded and the pure- 
 hearted ever shun you." 
 
 " Oh, that the gods the gift would gie us, 
 To see oursels as others see us." 
 
 If they invested you with this ■ gift' of inner sight you would 
 soon cease to apply a monster magnifying lens to the sins and 
 follies of your acquaintance, and a diminishing glass to your own, 
 until they 'appear small by degrees and beautifully less,' at 
 length exhibiting a dissolving view, which you contrast exultingly 
 with the ruins and shattered torsos of the fair structures of 
 character you have leveled to the dust ; but you ■ reckon without 
 your host,' Miss Scandalson, so you will discover some day !" 
 
 Lord Bacon tells us, and as he spoke from experience, may no 
 doubt be relied on, " slander is one of the taxes that excellent 
 people pay to the public ; the best are most injured by it, as birds 
 peck at the ripest fruit ;" and for the scandal-loving world in all 
 ages Sheridan has recorded a maxim full of the grace that, like an 
 heir-loom, inheres in his name, — 
 
 " Believe not every idle tale, 
 As some weak people do, 
 But still believe that story false 
 That ought not to be true." 
 
 Be sure, good Madam, it is a serious^act to trifle with character, 
 
158 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 emphatically that of woman, or minister ; it is like " snow, breathe 
 upon it and it is tainted, touch it and it dissolves :" and are not 
 the reasons " why and wherefore" self-evident ? 
 
 Neither is it necessary to say in so many words, " I know one 
 or two things about him or her, which if known, etc.," because 
 one of your whispers, an initiated look, a raising of the eyebrow, a 
 shake of the head, a movement of the hand — ay, or of the foot — 
 will insinuate volumes voraciously devoured by certain classes of 
 the community, who reserve to themselves not only the " right of 
 translation," but of issuing a new and improved, at any rate an 
 enlarged, edition of the work ; and what shall be said of that por- 
 tion of society whose minds are nourished by the minces, ragouts, 
 and fricasees cooked up from the most tender parts of their 
 neighbours' reputation, with the occasional variation of their being 
 " made game of," to suit the appetites of the more charitable, 
 fastidious, and respectable ! 
 
 Surely this same potent, all-judicial thing, " Society," has much 
 to answer for in this way ? 
 
 " If there were no scandal-lovers there would be no scanda- 
 lizers," did the " genius of Discord " remark ? ^ 
 
 A truism, even if it had been propounded by the arch-hypocrite 
 himself, and bears out that quaint, and not very refined proverb, 
 "the receiver's as bad as the thief." But suppose, for a brief 
 moment, we revert to the truism, how simple and come-at-able 
 seems the panacea ; let each do what in him or her lies to clip the 
 branches and stay the spread — nay, to up-root this domestic Upas 
 by erecting between it and character a barricade bearing on its 
 front the Golden law, — 
 
 "Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye 
 unto them." 
 
 Many well-meaning but supine people will listen to the most 
 unkind and unlikely tales concerning their neighbours without 
 attempting to check the calumny, though their better natures re- 
 volt at it, sheltering themselves behind the mischievous enquiry, 
 (t What can I do? I am only one in society ! my voice would 
 soon be drowned !" and so on ; yet it is true now as ever it was, 
 "where there's a will there's a way," and only one influence 
 for good or evil is vast ; it has been finely compared to a " stone 
 cast into a river, the circles form immediately round it ; those 
 which are nearest are strongest and most apparent, but they 
 increase and widen till there is no calculating the extent to which 
 
AN EVENT THAT MAT BE SKIPPED. 159 
 
 they reach. " Energized by the motive sympathy for a brother's 
 or a sister's weal, if every one did their best (" and angels could 
 no more") to stay this plague there would be fewer wretched 
 homes, and estranged affections, and cold looks, and riven ties, and 
 broken hearts in this world of ours. 
 
 Or, reverse the truism : if there were no scandalizers there would 
 be no listeners, and let us each put to herself the question, " Is it 
 I ?" and if the black drop of scandal lurks in the veins, wring 
 it out, and — 
 
 u Still believe the story false 
 That ought not to be true." 
 
 Then as to Courtenaye — his biographer never hinted at the idea 
 of his being a " spiritual Abaris," or a "faultless monster whom 
 the world ne'er saw." Had any one offered him the poison-bowl 
 of flatten* he would have turned from the draught with disgust, 
 as all true ones do ; and it is but just to assure our fair readers, 
 Miss Scandalson included, that he had battled undauntedly with 
 his heart's new beautiful guest, ere he sunk vanquished ; and as 
 the effort to forget is but too often Memory's key-note, so the 
 struggle to keep the image of Mary beyond that heart-threshold, 
 only found it nestling with deeper tenderness in its citadel ; yet 
 it is probable he never would have breathed his precious secret to 
 any human ear, much less to her who had enshrined it there, but 
 for the accident which sent the impulsive girl into his outstretched 
 arms, with the terror-cry " Save me, save me!" 
 
 Say now, you whose hearts have not been preserved in ice, 
 and are not cutting fragments of flint and steel, never nearing 
 each other to produce fire and warmth, is it wonderful that as her 
 trusting cry fell on his ear, and her gentle bosom pulsated for one 
 moment close to his own as the fair creature clung to his encir- 
 circling arm, his love smouldering and stifled-down as it was, 
 attracted by its kindred essence, should have leaped out and 
 united with hers into one pure bright flame, destined to burn for 
 ever and ever ? and though, as some frigid beings — who would 
 have made capital inmates for the ice-palace of the Imperial mur- 
 deress of Russia — declare that it is " very wrong for ministers to 
 have feelings and affection like other people," we prefer appealing 
 to those who have loved, and struggled, and sorrowed to judge 
 our young pastor ; let the sinless cast the first stone. — 
 
 " Reader, can you?" 
 
1^0 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 " No, you cannot ?" Ah , 'tis even so. * If we say we have no 
 sin we deceive ourselves." 
 
 And now we may go over the old philosophically macadamized 
 road, and add to the skeleton- worn remarks, "what a strange 
 thing the human heart is ! How it is ever playing at cross 
 purposes ! * 
 
 " What a mysterious thing love is, ever eluding the dictates of 
 policy and prudence, and ensconcing itself with a mischievous 
 chuckle into the most unlikely corners !" 
 
 " "What a singular marriage Miss So-and-so made!" 
 
 " Who would have thought of Lord This-or-that fancying such 
 a mere child ? " 
 
 I wonder — but when we have multiplied these wonders and 
 truisms, ad infinitum, we shall at last find ourselves just where we 
 set out on our exploring mania, for there is very little in this 
 great whispering gallery, 
 
 " Self-balanced on its centre hung," 
 
 that is not a mystery." 
 
 What are the stars, the flowers ? 
 
 What is Life, and its shadow Love ! Death, and its twin 
 brother Sleep ? 
 
 What is the Soul, and its first-born Thought ? 
 What is Time, and what Eternity ? 
 
 But is there not a still greater Mystery ? a mystery the loftiest 
 Intelligences of heaven yearningly desire to look into, while we, 
 dots in the vast creation waste our precious hours on aught 
 beside, though joy or woe interminable hinges on our reception of 
 it, the science and the song of all Eternity : — 
 " 'Tis mystery all, the Immortal dies, 
 Who can explore the strange design ? 
 In vain the first-born seraph tries 
 To sound the depths of love divine. 
 Amazing love ! how can it be 
 That thou, my God, should die for me?" 
 
 Only in the lio-htjof this wondrous Love can we catch faint streaks 
 of life's lesser mysteries ; and when, from her glory-home, the en- 
 franchised soul looks on all the ways (rough and thorny and 
 mysterious though they have been) by which she has reached at 
 last her rest, how will the exulting anthem ring through the 
 abiding city, — 
 
 " Trite, and just are all thy ways, thou King of Saints! 
 
AN EVENT THAT MAY BE SKIPPED. 161 
 
 Conscious even to agony that under the impulse of terror she 
 betrayed her love, Mary shrunk from herself and others, fancying 
 all eyes would turn shunningly on her ; but above all she dared 
 not reflect on what " he must think ; " she feared to pay her accus- 
 tomed visits to the poor lest she should encounter the object who 
 occupied her waking and sleeping thoughts — neither dared she to 
 go to the Leslies ; how could she meet the enquiring looks that 
 would be directed towards her ? and Julia with instinctive delicacy 
 forbore to seek a confidence she felt would be reposed in due 
 time, while Courtenaye, torn with conflicting feeling, longed to 
 pour out his "heart's full tide" of affection, and ask her leave to 
 propitiate the doctor. A trifling and most unlooked for event 
 oecurred just then, precipitating the anxiously desired opportu- 
 nity. ' 
 
 Having passed a week without seeing her favourite, though 
 she had heard frequently from her, and rejoiced in her recovery 
 from the fright she had sustained, and judging with feminine 
 instinct that she might be useful in this delicate embarrassment, 
 which was evidentWepriving them of the pleasure of her society, 
 Mrs. Leslie determined to seek Mary, and by judicious sympathy 
 lead her to speak on the subject which so deeply interested them 
 all ; next to her own handsome husband she regarded the young 
 pastor as verging on perfection. 
 
 " We have all wished for you very much, and are afraid you 
 have suffered more from your .fright than you would confess, 
 darling," said Julia, kissing the varying cheek of Mary, "Why 
 did you not come to us last evening as usual? " 
 
 Mary did not reply, but throwing herself into Mrs. Leslie's 
 arms, she wept freely, and then over her heart came soothing, 
 loving words, and counsel, until it gushed out in entire confidence, 
 and) when her sweet face was uplifted from the sympathising 
 bosom of her friend its deepened tint was brightened with the 
 flush of hope. 
 
 " Poor Courtenaye ! he spent the evening with us as usual, 
 but was not quite his own cheerful self — he, too, wants a counsellor, 
 but who could advance a step into that quiet heart '? " remarked 
 Mrs. Leslie. 
 
 Again the face of Mary is on the breast of her friend, and ere 
 her voice had ceased its guileless murmurs the door opened, and 
 the object of their solicitude was announced. 
 
 A shade of embarrassment passed over the face of Courtenaye 
 
162 jl life-long story. 
 
 but he greeted them both with his usual confidence-inspiring 
 way, and then explained to Mary that his visit was to her father, 
 and he had expected to have been shown into his study. 
 
 " Papa will not be home till seven," replied Mary, scarce 
 knowing what she said, — her heart beat almost to agony, — ' ■ can 
 I be his substitute, or give him any message ? " and she smiled 
 sweetly through her confusion. 
 
 " Perhaps you will be a much more successful pleader than I 
 shall," answered Courtenaye in a cheerful tone, for he saw the 
 struggle in Mary's bosom, and, with true refinement, scarce 
 looked into the tearful eyes before him, but endeavoured to 
 restore her usual ease and freedom by explaining at once the pur- 
 port of his visit. 
 
 " I hope to interest him in a plan suggested by a philanthropic 
 friend for ameliorating the miserable condition of the poor in our 
 Unions ; he has written and begged me to call immediately on 
 the Guardians and endeavour to secure their interest, when he 
 brings his plan before the public. 
 
 " I will not fail to tell him you have called and wish to 
 interest him," replied Mary, " but I warn you, though one of the 
 best of men, my dear papa does not like trouble, and may 
 not " 
 
 " There goes nurse with my bairn ! " suddenly exclaimed Mrs. 
 Leslie, springing up ; " O, I must shew you his first wee tooth," 
 and before Mary could reply, away she darted as if, like Courte- 
 naye, she had found 
 
 " A spirit in her feet." 
 
 After a moment's silence he rose, and seating himself by 
 Mary's side, said, in a tone which had a touch'of sadness in it — 
 
 " I fear I have given you just cause for displeasure, by my un- 
 guarded expressions on that never-to-be-forgotten night when 
 the love of my heart burst controul and;; told on itself; may I 
 hope that love may plead for ?" 
 
 Mary spoke not ; her face was partly turned from his tender 
 gaze, but her quivering frame told of the emotion within. 
 
 Then he continued in a more impassioned but low heart-tone, 
 which thrilled everv strained 4 cord of her soul, — 
 
 " That event woke me from my false dream of hiding my love 
 from human eye, and revealed the truth, that all my hopes of 
 
 earthly happiness are " again he paused, no reply came 
 
 Mary was deathly pale ; the rich blood had deserted brow and 
 
AN EVENT THAT MAY BE SKIPPED. 163 
 
 cheek, nerving her heart to look on its wondrous bliss, and for a 
 moment it stood still in that enraptured gaze : she seemed like the 
 old Greek about to die of joy at the prize won. 
 
 Courtenaye took her hand in his — 'twas icy cold ; did the delicate 
 fingers close on his with a leal and lingering clasp, or was it one 
 of Love's sweet fancies born of Hope ? He held it between his 
 own burning palms as if to impart some of the warmth and life 
 pulsating so strangely there — he pressed it to his lips, clasped it 
 to his bosom, and murmured, in an agitated voice, — 
 
 " Say vou will not cast from you a heart that will find a life- 
 time too short to prove all its truth and tenderness ; speak one 
 dear word," he added fervently, as the hush of her soul remained 
 unbroken, " only one!" and he convulsively strained the tremu- 
 lous fingers to his heart to still the tumult there. 
 
 Ah ! did the beating of that warm heart against her fingers 
 thaw the chained-up current? 
 
 She turned for one instant towards the pleading face at her 
 side : the torrent swept its crimson tide over brow and cheek, 
 and the next she hid blushes, tears, and bliss on that true and 
 noble breast. 
 
 "My bride ! My love ! " murmured Courtenaye. 
 
 And then they part to dream — not of a father's stern refusal 
 —not of a brother's unnatural villany — much less that the 
 (t fashion of this world passeth away" 
 
 Oh, what a vista of bliss opens, which no shadows lengthen ! 
 What a zone jewelled and gemmed from Love's exhaustless mine 
 clasps round the entire being ! 
 
 What wreaths and wreaths of flowers which are never to fade 
 or die, does that loving girl twine and throw round her idol ! 
 
 With what pictures of rare and rich beauty does she deck his 
 fireside ! What a path of roses, not one leaf crushed, should his 
 life-journey be ! 
 
 Dream on, sweet one ! Who shallt whisper into thine honey- 
 laden ear, — 
 
 " Little children, keep yourselves from idols." 
 
 But he, that quiet-hearted man, does he, too, dream ? 
 
 * Yes, yes ! he dreams — dreams of the times when " holiness 
 to the Lord" shall fling a glory -robe over her character, gilding 
 all that is so bright and beauteous now ! 
 
 He will watch and prav, and lead her young footsteps beside 
 
 m2 
 
164 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 the still waters of the river of life, into the flowery pastures of 
 the love of Jesus ! 
 
 He will shield that trusting heart from every storm-sweep, 
 from every lightning flash ! 
 
 He will make her quiet homestead a thing of joy and bliss for 
 ever! 
 
 He will 
 
 Ah, dream on man ! Quaff long draughts from Hope's seriel 
 fountain of sunshine and song ! 
 
 Dream on ! such dreams gild life's sky but once, and they 
 redeem an age of sorrow, — 
 
 The heart's long-panted for Eureka! 
 
 The fabled fountain of Love's perennial youth ! 
 
 The Phrygian touch transmuting all into gold ! 
 
 The Caduceus wand brightening all into peace ! 
 
 The enchanted robe that no arrow can pierce ! 
 
 The Icarian wings soaring beyond the clouds ! 
 
 The Jris, without the rain drops, spanning the future ! 
 
 The heart's long — long sought Home ! — 
 
 Dream on ! — true it is now, as when it was penned ages since,— 
 
 " Love is strong as Death." 
 
 True it is now, as when it first fell from inspired lips, — 
 
 " The fashion of this life passeth away.'" 
 
 " Passeth away I " Yes, often ere the midsummer's sun has 
 robed the earth in her flowery mantle, or the autumn winds 
 howled mournfully over the lonely hills ! and it must be so, or 
 who among us would not lie down amid life's flowers, all unheed- 
 ing the claims of that better, brighter world, whose bliss " it hath 
 not entered into the heart of man to conceive," and of whose 
 crowning bliss earth knows not the meaning — it is eternal. 
 " No'time " 'mid the rush and whirl of Joy's chariot wheels to 
 think of — much less prepare for — the " City ichich hath founda- 
 tions !" 
 
 Ah ! the roots of that much-coveted exotic, Happiness, can- 
 not strike deep and wide in Time's shifting soil. Unlike those 
 of the stately forest trees, which hold firmer and throw out wider 
 as the hurricane sweeps off the tender branches, the blasts and 
 mutations of earth injure and destroy the delicate fibres of this 
 king of trees ; hence it only grows to perfection in that clime 
 where storms and tempests are unknown, and where its roots can 
 strike deep in the "everlasting hills." 
 
AN EVENT THAT MAY BE SKIPPED. 165 
 
 Is then, all this wealth of love to perish and pass away — 
 sometimes at its birth, sometimes ere its April's sun has kissed 
 awav its childhood's tears ! Is the serpent ever to trample on 
 and' destroy this last flower of Paradise 1 
 
 Xav, Love is imperishable ! — 
 
 " The holy flame for ever burneth, 
 From heaven it came, to heaven retnrneth. 
 It soweth here with toil and care, 
 But the harvest time of love is there." 
 
 " He that loveih unfit or child more than Me is not worthy of Me." 
 
 Here is light that pierces the gloom ! 
 
 Here the key that unlocks the complex ward ! 
 
 The child of God loves not the gift the less, but the Giver 
 more, for that pearl of feelings, gratitude, perfumes the ever up- 
 rising incense. 
 
 " Little children, keep yourselves from idols." 
 
166 jL LITE-LONG STORY. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Asking Consent. 
 
 u There is a close connexion between sound intellectual attainments 
 and the higher elements of duty and enjoyment." 
 
 "Mr. Courtenaye, Sir!" announced the pompous footman, 
 who, like the generality of his genus, was a vast deal " better fed 
 than taught," and the young pastor entered the doctor's study 
 " to have a few words on parish business," and to lay their 
 hopes on the family board of the Poor-Law Guardian, according to 
 agreement between Mary and himself at their interview. 
 
 " Certainly, the idea of such a human machine having a 
 "study," — which might more properly have been named his 
 dormitory, — was laughable enough ; but itwas a fashionable and 
 popular delusion, much indulged in in his day ; and albeit, the 
 other apartments in the mansion had nothing to complain of, 
 this said study was the best, and best appointed resort in it ; a 
 perfect nest for Self to brood in. 
 
 "What an enchanting vista greeted the eye from the spacious 
 windows ! What a classically-designed ceiling ! "What a foot- 
 burying carpet ! What sleep-suggesting chairs, contrived by the 
 united aid of art and science, to foster the idea that the possessor 
 was sitting upon nothing ! "What capacious, sensible, thoughtful- 
 looking tables ! What shelves upon shelves of brain-work, bound 
 in calf and gold ; and/&s? bound in brass and mahogany, looking 
 as if for years they had been crying, " We can't get out ! " 
 
 What a massive, grand, antique ■ but why continue the 
 
 description? Xo doubt the man's character will suggest some 
 idea of what his surroundings in the material would be ; and 
 
ASKING CONSENT. 167 
 
 though in this favourite room all was very well aud very tidv, 
 not a thing out of its place, or a " screw loose " to hang a string 
 of fault-finding upon, one could easily conceive that the earth- 
 quake which burst from the Miner's brain could never have been 
 amalgamated in such a retreat ; or the deathless dream of the 
 Tinker visioned forth from those luxurious chairs. 
 
 It was not the study either of the Poet, those " Hierophants of 
 an unapprehended inspiration," whose gems of thought the gold of 
 Ophir could not purchase sleep hieroglyphically on the un- 
 conscious paper, and are scattered hither and thither in u glorious 
 confusion. 1 ' 
 
 It was not the study of the Painter, who from a whole Babel 
 of strange, useless-looking material, creates visions that make the 
 " heart drunk with beauty/' 
 
 It was not the studio of the Sculptor, who sits before the 
 yielding stone 'till forms of grace start into life beneath his 
 enchanted touch, and Nature stoops down and kisses the beau- 
 teous creation that men foolishly said would rival her. 
 
 It was not the study of the Son of Science, who with earnest 
 eye and corrugated brow bends over models of machinery destined 
 to unite both worlds. 
 
 Neither was it the study of the devoted Servant of God, who, 
 sinking on bended knee before the Book whose lessons shall 
 make him wiser than all, murmurs, " Teach me Thy will, my 
 God and King ! " 
 
 No ! it was simply the study of a common-place man, where 
 Self was the deity enshrined and worshipped ; yet there were 
 precious things there even in the owner's eyes. There was a bust 
 and two full-length (or folly size) portraits of himself, and 
 another of Mary just after she left school, standing out from the 
 canvas with such a life-like grace and beauty, that it was evident 
 the artist only required the smoke and cob-webs of two or three 
 centuries to concrete over them, and the fashion to be intro- 
 duced of " rendering unto Caesar the things which are Ceesar's," 
 to cry up his paintings as marketable at any price for our 
 national defences against taste and genius, — 
 
 " True fame's a plant that seems to need 
 A body buried for its seed; 
 And, ere the churlish suckling thrive, 
 The parent stock must cease to live." 
 
 Courtenave glanced round, rested his eye ji momentum the said 
 
168 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 painting, and seated himself near our worthy doctor, who put 
 down his newspaper, dropped his gold eye-glass, performed a 
 sort of elongation of his body (or the upper part of it), which he 
 meant to pass for rising, and then seated himself in his easy 
 chair in an attitude which plainly enquired, " Well sir ! and I 
 wonder what has brought you here ! " 
 
 In his own forcible and unaffected manner the young pastor 
 Dpened up the ideas suggested by his friend, for alleviating the 
 sufferings of the poor in the Unions throughout the land, and 
 entreated the doctor, as one of the Guardians, to use his 
 influence for their adoption. 
 
 u I never interfere with any of the concerns of the poor, Mr. 
 Courtenaye ; I simply accompany the other Guardians when 
 our presence is required ; but we never look into these kind of 
 things ; we take the Governor's word that all is managed as it 
 should be, " replied the doctor, freezingly. 
 
 11 Perhaps my friend's proposal can scarce be called an inter- 
 ference." said Courtenaye. persuasively. " inasmuch as it does 
 not purpose to alter or set aside existing arrangements, but simply 
 to add to them — most humanely, I think." 
 
 '•Neither do I like innovations of any kind," significantly 
 sledge-hammered the doctor. 
 
 u Will you permit me to leave the prospectus with you? I 
 feel assured, after you have considered the suggestions, you will 
 enter into the views of the excellent proposer," asked Courtenaye, 
 who seemed not to hear the last remark. 
 
 •• I must at once decline having anything to do or say in 
 the matter, sir ; I only accepted the office of Poor-Law Guardian 
 upon condition that I was never called upon to do more than sign 
 the Report, and your friend's plan may entail trouble, which I 
 prefer at all times to avoid ; besides, the poor are never satisfied ; 
 they are a discontented, ungrateful set. and the more you do for 
 them the more you may do ; depend upon it. you will only find 
 yourself fishing in muddy water in the end!" refrigerated the 
 Poor Law. 
 
 '• I regret that your experience of the poor should induce such 
 an opinion, my dear sir," (doctor grunted) ; ,; perhaps you may 
 meet with more gratitude, in this instance, if you would show a 
 deeper interest for their welfare. The little experience I have 
 gathered among them is much the reverse. I have ever found 
 them sensible of kindness, and grateful for sympathy,"' 
 replied Courtenaye. 
 
ASKING CONSENT. 169 
 
 " Tour experience sir," and the doctor meant the emphasised 
 "your" to pass for a sneer, " must be very different from that of 
 everybody else ; and as we shall not in all probability agree on 
 the subject, I have no more to say." 
 
 Poor Courtenaye cast a hopeless look at the lump of Honduras 
 before him — his heart sunk for the success of his benevolent friend's 
 intentions, which would have to fight inch by inch through, and 
 over, such stagnant elements of prejudice and selfishness as evinced 
 by this Guardian of the Poor, whom, alas ! he well knew was 
 only another representative official. Still, his great sympathy 
 for the sufferings and wants of that class whose interests ever 
 clustered round his warm heart, nerved him for one more attempt 
 to melt this iceberg and win him over to the side of " the right 
 and true ;" he therefore continued, in an earnest, supplicating 
 tone, — 
 
 "But may I not hope that you will re-consider this proposal? 
 our common brotherhood, and the Christianity we profess, plead 
 powerfully in favour of " 
 
 " Excuse my interrupting you, sir," re-refrigerated the doctor ; 
 I have already given you my opinion, and am not likely to depart 
 from it." 
 
 " Such being the case, then, I have only to express the hope 
 that you will not oppose the measure by your influence, if it is 
 introduced," demanded Comtenaye. 
 
 M That depends upon circumstances, sir," said the Representa- 
 tive man. 
 
 Courtenaye was silenced. He felt that any further attempt to 
 wake a ripple on this Dead Sea of stoicism by the soft breezes of 
 Sympathy passing over it, would be a Sisyphian labour, and 
 deemed absolute impertinence ; he saw that, like the Imperial 
 Sorceress of Egypt, this hard man had dissolved the most precious 
 pearl of every-day life in acid, and swallowed it, setting all his 
 teeth on edge by the act, and he had now only to deal with his 
 future hopes and happiness. Audibly, even to his fingers' ends, 
 pulsated his heart, under the conviction that the moment had 
 arrived for laying bare ts nestling secret before this mechanical 
 official. 
 
 Like all true hearts — gathering even from the tree of Despair a 
 twig whereon k to look for a bud of Hope, and who can trace 
 in the murkiest cloud a fissure through which a light-ray 
 may steal — Courtenaye raised a glance to the picture of Mary, 
 
170 A LIFE-LONG STOUT. 
 
 which seemed to smile encouragement, and he began his love- 
 tale in a tone that, at first, had a heart-quiver in it, but soon 
 caught strength and fervour from the intenseness of his feeliugs. 
 
 " I would now for a few moments entreat your kind attention, 
 my dear sir (gruntj to a subject intimately connected with your 
 own happiness, — that of your lovely daughter, to whom my heart 
 has long since yielded its tenderest affection (another grunt), and 
 it is my joy to know that affection is returned, and we only wait 
 your sanction to an engagement existing between us." He 
 paused, with a flushed cheek and a kindling eye, then added in a 
 softened, earnest, voice, " my whole life shall find a blessed 
 
 employ in endeavouring to render her happy, and " 
 
 " Mr. Courtenaye." interrupted the Guardian in that slow, cold, 
 hard, precise, measured, dreadful manner, so much better under- 
 stood than defined, " I believe my daughter is fully aware 
 of my sentiments on this subject already ; and while I should 
 not object to seeing her the wife of any mau she really loved, I 
 must tell you candidly, and I am a plain-speaking man, sir, that I 
 neither like your character nor your peculiar religious views well 
 enough to give the consent you seek." 
 
 (Plain-speaking enough, in all conscience, good doctor, and 
 not over and above polite ! but it is unmistakeable and straight- 
 forward, and that is something now-a-days). 
 
 Courtenaye coloured, but he only said, in a subdued tone, 
 something like that characterized by the Preacher-King as 
 <f turning away wrath" — 
 
 "If there is anything in my religious views at variance 
 with the teaching "of Holy Writ, or if you will kindly point 
 out those traits in my character which are no doubt incon- 
 sistent with its pure and perfect precepts, I will most gladly 
 and thankfully give your suggestions profound attention ; and if, 
 consistently with my inward convictions, I can alter my views, I 
 will do so. Many efforts shall be made on my part to gain the 
 
 esteem of the father of " Again his eye" sought the living 
 
 canvas, which seemed to wear a brighter smile, and the doctor 
 observing the look, took up a reply, flying into that refuge for 
 the destitute when closely pursued by Truth— generalities and 
 abstractions. 
 
 a Why, as to that, sir, your character may be pretty much like 
 others, well enough in its" way ; but I must say I don't like that 
 way ! I don't like vour soinss on in the town ! I can't see what 
 
ASKING CONSENT. 1"1 
 
 good is to come of all tout preaching and praying, and going 
 among the poor ; nor any use in breaking up old customs and 
 habits, as you have I I can't understand what all this education 
 and new-tangled nonsense is to do ! "Why, sir, if all this hum- 
 bug goes on, our servants, if we can get any, will soon know 
 better than we do, and what good will come of that, I should 
 like to be told!" 
 
 " Do vou think any harm can accrue from men being raised 
 from mere machines to thinking creatures V asked;Courtenaye. 
 
 i( To be sure I do!" quickly replied the Guardian, who fancy- 
 ing the very unargumentative tone of his victim implied inability 
 to cope with his own clenching eloquence, went on with an 
 increased hundred per cent, convincing power, — " to be sure 
 sir, I do ! and I am not alone hi my opinions ! Depend upon it 
 we shall live to repent of these innovations ! past experience 
 warns us of this." 
 
 Courtenaye was about to ask the favour of an illustration of 
 the w past experience " alluded to, but the good doctor was 
 firmly seated, and fairly off upon his favourite hack, and he was 
 obliged to stand aside to escape being rode over. 
 
 u Manv of the oldest and wisest men of my acquaintance think 
 just as I "do, that there will be no return to order and the good 
 old times until all this education and preaching, and ranting, is 
 put down ! Why. sir. a man can't move off his seat but he is 
 pestered for a donation to the Missionary, or Bible, or Tract 
 Society ! He can't go outside his door but a paper is thrust into 
 his hand, begging for some Institution that is to do wonders, 
 though no one ever sees any of them ! And what with City 
 Missionaries, tract distributors, and Misses under the influence of 
 Dorcas' charities (out of whose way, by the by, a man never 
 gets until his purse-strings are drawn), beside a whole regiment 
 of other nuisances, a man's life is worried out of him ! For my 
 part. I can't think where it is all to end, or what the world is 
 coming to ! There was none of this nonsense when I was a boy, 
 and we got on well enough ! We had better servants, ay, sir, 
 and better preachers, too," — looking full and inclusive into Courte- 
 naye*s face — ;, men who didn't trouble themselves about their 
 neighbours, or their concerns ; they left them to do as they like, 
 and go as they like, there was plenty of room, and the way was 
 broad enough ; but now. forsooth, your fanatic must mount up 
 in the open fields, or by the wayside, to hold forth ! Their 
 
172 A LIFE-LONG STORY 
 
 churches and meeting-houses are not big enough to contain 
 them ! Then they must push themselves into every poor man's 
 hovel and garret, if any of them are sick or sorry, as if it was 
 any ^concern of theirs ! What right have these enthusiasts to 
 take upon themselves all this, I should like to know ? There 
 was none of this kind of thing allowed when I was a boy ! Our 
 parsons could preach in their own churches ; there was plenty of 
 room, and to spare ! They didn't trouble their heads about 
 all this education, and visiting the poor, and humbug, 1 warrant 
 them! They didn't hold forth in the fields and highways, or 
 4 enlist,' as the term goes, the women of their parishes to be for 
 ever running about in people's way, and doing all the odd jobs 
 they didn't like to do themselves ; and I tell you what, Mr. 
 Courtenaye, sir, that's one thing I don't like in these new- 
 fangled goings on, the women are too much mixed up with 
 everything ! They must be collectors and treasurers, and secre- 
 taries, and lecturers, and politicians, and writers, and heaven 
 knows not what ! What right have they to trouble their heads 
 about such things, I should like to know ? Why can't they stay 
 at home, that's their place, and mind their families, and darn 
 their stockings? There will be no return to peace ^and order 
 'till all this nonsense is done away with ! " 
 
 Exhausted for want of breath, not retributive eloquence, 
 demonstrated by the " Well, sir, whatdo-you-think-of-that ?"- 
 look he cast at Courtenaye, the doctor paused, while the former, 
 utterly bewildered by such a display of the good man's mental 
 chromotrope, sought in vain, from among its evolutions, for a 
 salient wherever to lay his hold and reply ; in fact, he felt 
 pretty much like the poor Irish lady, who, having vainly 
 attempted to produce order from a whole pyramid of confusion at 
 her splash season dinner, could only wring her hands in despair, 
 and cry " Oh ! Larry ! Larry !" Still he was no craven, that 
 Courtenaye, and wisely judging his silence would be construed 
 into consent, he asked, with a smile, — 
 
 " But may not good exist and be progressing, though we 
 cannot see it, my dear sir ? may not the small seed be " 
 
 "Don't believe one word of it! 'By their fruits ye shall know 
 them/ interrupted the doctor, casting a look of fierce exultation 
 at his antagonist, as much as to say, " foiled with your own 
 weapons ! you didn't expect that, did you, my master !" 
 
 A hopeless expression flitted over the handsome face of 
 
ASKING CONSENT. 173 
 
 Courtenaye, but he returned to the charge with an unflinching 
 courtesy, quite out of fashion now-a-days, and every way worthy 
 of a nobler antagonist, as he enquired, — 
 
 " But why should not the glad tidings of salvation be pro- 
 claimed in the highways, or anywhere else to perishing souls ? 
 Those men who preach whenever an opportunity offers, but 
 follow in the footsteps of the Eternal Preacher, who delivered 
 some of His most practical and beautiful parabolic teaching by 
 the wayside, from objects and similitudes around Him. Surely 
 the great end of all preaching should be His— the salvation of 
 immortal " 
 
 "That — "again interrupted his antagonist, who clung with 
 delight to the idea that he had the best of the argument because 
 he had most words — " was all very well in those dark ages, when 
 there were no churches to go to, and no bishops or anything ; 
 but do you for a moment believe, — ignorant and fanatic as you are" 
 — he looked — "that if the Saviour were to come on earth again, He 
 would go about the streets and lanes preaching in the open air, 
 as he did in those benighted days ! I don't believe one word 
 of it!" 
 
 The young evangelist felt somewhat as the men of old must 
 have felt when impious hands were put forth to touch the sacred 
 Ark, as he replied, — 
 
 "It is not for a worm of earth like me to speculate on 
 what the world's Saviour would do ; we all know what He 
 has done, and what He will do, my dear sir. He laid His 
 glory by, and came to seek and save the lost, and He will 
 come again to judge the quick and dead ; and is there not 
 intenser need now than ever for increased exertion among His 
 followers ? Should they not untiringly beseech their fellow- sinners 
 to be reconciled to God ? Look around and about at the fearful 
 amount of iniquity ! men are perishing by myriads, not because 
 they are sinners, but because they are not pointed to Him, who 
 himself tells us " 
 
 " No doubt, no doubt !" once again intervened the doctor, who 
 thought he saw manifest symptoms of the cloven foot Cant 
 developing itself — under the head of which he included all 
 allusion by others to Scripture in common talk, or on week days — 
 "you will beat me there, 'tis part of your trade, you know ; and 
 'tis plain as the sun in noon-day, we shan't agree on this point f ' 
 (or any other he might have added, for I am not to be silenced 
 or convinced). 
 
174 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 Courtenaye flushed to the very temples, but he only replied 
 with a smile, " I hope we shall agree on this point, and many 
 others some day, but if not — to differ as Christian men should ; 
 I feel assured you will never see any ill arising from preaching 
 or instruction as long as it is of the right kind." 
 
 " I believe it is all calculated to bring the higher orders into 
 contempt, and to make the poor discontented with their lot ; and 
 I am not alone in this opinion ! " 
 
 " Are not the poor discontented now ? Is not this very dis- 
 content and craving for some unpossessed good a fruitful 
 pioneer to places of dissipation and crime ? Why should they 
 be denied the means of elevating themselves, and of knowing 
 they have a threefold nature destined to exist for ever ? Why 
 should they not be given the power to gratify the higher part of 
 their natures ? For example, give a man of the lower classes a 
 taste for reading, so truly called the ' mind's food,' and it will 
 lift him above low sensuality, — 
 
 * Give him a home, a home of taste, 
 Outbid the house of gin." 
 
 Why, I think, my dear sir, if a man can only be kept away 
 from the public-house by means of " 
 
 tl Very well ! and very poetical ! But how will it work ? " ob- 
 served the doctor, " look back a few years, — what did education 
 and philosophy do for ancient Greece ? " 
 
 Poor Courtenaye could scarcely keep his countenance at this 
 flourish of an argument, which the enlightened man had pirated, 
 ready made, from an antiquated Dean (not Sicifi) of his acquaint- 
 ance, who was one specimen of the very few then left — and cer- 
 tainly ought to have been preserved in spirits, in the British 
 Museum, as a natural curiosity, before the species became quite 
 extinct, — of a fox-hunting, ball-going, electioneering, "moved-by 
 the-Spirit" successor of the Apostles; who " hated all innova- 
 tion" of any kind, and whose stereotyped argument against 
 education was that just quoted by his worthy friend, who con- 
 tinued his philippics against progression and enlightenmentwith 
 fast-inflating energy, — 
 
 "What did ever education do for ancient' [Greece, I repeat, 
 sir? And what brought about the French Revolution, but that 
 rascally Voltaire, and his educating the people f (Courtenaye's 
 mcuth again twitched nervously) ; " and, in our own times, 
 what caused the Cato Street conspiracy, but all the education 
 
ASKING CONSENT. 175 
 
 and ranting let loose upon society ? There was none of it when 
 
 I was a boy; and what it will all come to, God only knows!" 
 Having, in his own estimation, reached the culminating point 
 
 of his oratory, the doctor stopped, fully believing he had for 
 ever silenced his [opponent. Not so — though Courtenaye felt 
 very "|Larryish " again, he remarked, — 
 
 "If the education given be founded on the Bible, there is 
 nothing in its pure and holy teaching to foster disorder or dis- 
 content ! " 
 
 " Well ! well ! I suppose, sir, it will all end in the tail getting 
 uppermost, and we shall have every shoemaker, and tinker, and 
 ploughboy sticking himself up to teach his superiors," replied 
 the Guardian testily. 
 
 "And why may they not shine if the light is in them ?" de- 
 manded Courtenaye, very quietly. "It is not necessary to be 
 high-born, or even well-born, as the phrase goes to be high- 
 souled ; there are often mighty elements of character and refine- 
 ment of mind where neither of the former advantages exist. 
 The grandest revolutions the world ever saw have been effected 
 by the working-classes, and we need not go back to the fishermen 
 of Galilee to prove this ; and that the dower of genius descends 
 on no favoured class, we may cite Luther from the mine, Zuin- 
 glius from the shepherd's cot, and Melancthon, the prince of 
 theologians, from the armourer's workshop, to testify ; and in 
 our own land, the ■ tinker,' the c ploughman/ and the •' shoe- 
 maker,' still live in the world's memory, though they have long 
 slept their sleep. Why, then, should any class hold the key of 
 knowledge ? Why should not the means be given for developing 
 talent where it exists ? and no doubt but a vast amount does 
 exist, latent, buried under piles of brutalizing ignorance. Let 
 men be taught to think, and by the emancipation of thought 
 from the rust-eaten chains of preju " 
 
 " Notwithstanding these exceptions," again unceremoniously 
 interrupted the embodied Poor-Law, trying hard to look cm fait, 
 
 II I cannot but believe that, by making such equality in this 
 respect, we shall be lowering ourselves in the end." 
 
 "Do you think that by raising the national character, by 
 giving to genius and talent, where they exist, the power of develop- 
 ment, and by elevating the masses to thinking, rational, intellectual 
 beings, we shall be lowering ourselves V* asked Courtenaye. 
 
 " All this sounds mighty fine ! But how do you think I should 
 
176 A- LIFE-LONG STORT. 
 
 like my coachman to quote bad Greek to convince me the great 
 Trojan horse was fed on beans instead of chopped hay, or my 
 footman to give me a scientific lecture on the component parts 
 of Day and Martin's blacking," sneered the doctor. 
 
 Courtenaye smiled as he replied, " But do you imagine either 
 that your coachman would drive the worse, or your footman 
 polish the worse for his knowledge ? The time devoted for its 
 acquirement may have been redeemed from the ale-house or the 
 gambling-board'" 
 
 u But what right have the lower orders to knowledge and edu- 
 cation ? " once more asked the doctor. 
 
 " Birthright !' ' replied his young antagonist, "every child 
 born on the ground of Christian England has a birth-right to 
 education, and where the parents are too poor to provide it, that 
 child belongs to the State, which should equally care for it. I 
 have amused myself in my leisure moments by drawing up a 
 short list of reasons why our crime calender is " 
 
 But the outraged feelings of the startled listener could bear 
 no more, and he wildly exclaimed, — 
 
 " What ! do vou mean to say, that burdened as we now are 
 with the National debt, we ought to be taxed to pay for edu- 
 cating every poor man's brat in the parish, teaching them too 
 to know better than ourselves, and paying for the weapons they 
 will by and by fight us with ? " 
 
 " We pay more to send them to our penal colonies, and thus 
 generate crime, which festers and spreads in all its deadly hideous 
 forms, till hell itself is scarce more terrible, save in duration," 
 quietly answered Courtenaye. But the Poor-Law Guardian kept 
 his seat in his old hack, " still I cannot see what good will 
 come of it !" t 
 
 The hopeless expression once more stole over Courtenaye s 
 face, but he merely remarked, " that will depend on the edu- 
 cation itself: if it is good, the result will be so too and every 
 
 man, " 
 
 " How is it then," demanded the fast man, once more inter- 
 rupting his guest in the most compunctionless manner, and with 
 an attempt at a sneer, "that the wisest and oldest men of my 
 acquaintance disapproved of all these mighty grand innovations, 
 I should just like to know ! " 
 
 " I was not aware they did do so," answered Courtenaye, but 
 even though such is the case, my dear sir, it is no argument in 
 their disfavour ; all schemes for the benefit of the race have had 
 
ASKING CONSENT. 177 
 
 to fight their wav through opposing legions. Let us turn to 
 Calvary and see their first development ; but depend on it there 
 is a °reat "'spirit of enquiry throughout the heaving masses of 
 society all over the world, and its' root lies deeper than the eye 
 either of Science or Philosophy, piercing though it is, can 
 discover ; it is the twilight glimmer of the day that is to usher in 
 the * light that lighteth every man ." ' 
 
 " Of course ! of course ! your party holds the key for unlock- 
 ing all knowledge chests, however rusty the locks may be!" 
 exclaimed the doctor, with more asperity than he had before 
 displaved. 
 
 " What party, my dear sir ? " asked Courtenaye, smiling. 
 
 " Why, your preaching, praying evangelicals^ I suppose, with 
 women simpering about "after * you, and running all over the 
 country with their nostrums for soul and body, when they had 
 better be at home darning their stockings, and looking after their 
 husbands, those who have got any ! For my part, I only wonder 
 vou don't set them to preach too* sir, they would no doubt " 
 
 * Win hearts and souls at once," ventured to interrupt 
 Courtnave, a smile spreading over his face, for he saw the ire 
 rapidlv rising, and he could not sit passive and listen to covert 
 sneers* or open taunts coarsely leveled at those, for the results of 
 whose mission, he foresaw such glorious prospects ; and for 
 whom, in the name of his sainted mother, and hoped-for wife, he 
 was ever the unflinching champion— i( beside darning their 
 stockings, and looking after their husbands, if these commodities 
 ever require looking after, which you know but seldom happens ; 
 yet seriously— while a woman ever shines brightest at her fireside, 
 are visits of smypathy and compassion to the sick, sinful, and 
 sorrowful of her 'own sex, — are intellectual pursuits — the cultiva- 
 tion of genius and talent, incompatible with home duties and 
 household occupations ? I think not ; they refine and gild every- 
 day-life, blending and harmonizing in beautiful consistency." 
 
 " Yes ! yes ! in imagination ! " growled the doctor, for certain 
 sentimental rhyming voung ladies troubled his memory, and like 
 others of his stamp, he judged of the great world without, by 
 the little one within. 
 
 " I think not in imagination only," rejoined Courtenaye. 
 " Depend, the day is not far distant when woman's noble mission 
 will be acknowledged and fulfilled, and when she shall be 
 
178 A LIFE-LONG STOIiY. 
 
 recognized as a 'help meet for man,' as at first created by her 
 Maker/ " 
 
 " I never heard of, or saw such wonderful women ! " growled 
 his antagonist, again glancing at the aforenamed wee cosmogony. 
 
 " But surely such names as " here Courtenaye ran over a 
 
 list so brilliant that it seemed to flash too strong a ray for the 
 mental vision of the one-idead man, he shut his eyes, leant 
 back in his hydrostatic, crossed his legs, played with his eye-glass, 
 and danced his right foot suggestively; for if there was one 
 thing on the wide earth discomforted him in argument, it was 
 the sight of a fact ; he never argued for truth, but for silencing 
 his antagonist, and for a sort of victory, as he believed " coute 
 qui coute," — hence these " stubborn things" were accustomed to 
 be flung aside, just as some people fling their religion, — very well 
 on some occasions, but by no means adapted to every day wear 
 and tear, — ■ too much of a good thing.' " 
 
 Taking the hint, Courtenaye once more ventured to plead his 
 suit, and " hoped the doctor would reconsider ere he gave 
 a final blow to their happiness, and allow him to cherish the 
 hope that at some future period he may be less an object 
 of " 
 
 " I have already given you my decision on this point," replied 
 the apathetic Poor Law, " and if, after that, you choose to marry 
 my daughter you can ; I believe she knows what the result of 
 such a step would be, and can enlighten you if you desire it." 
 
 This speech, coarse and characteristic of the man as it was, 
 thrilled through Courtenaye' s soul, "you can marry my 
 daughter,' ' but he only replied in a sad tone, — 
 
 " There remains, then, only that I should express my regret at the 
 non-success of my missions, and to wish the father of Mary every 
 blessing," while he frankly offered his hand to his enlightened 
 antagonist, who took it just as a school-boy takes a turned lesson. 
 
 n Few persons could have met, in argument, more unequally 
 matched than the orthodox doctor and the heterodox pastor : the 
 former clinging with frantic tenacity to his asbestos robe of anti- 
 quated ideas, and nursery-embibed prejudices, on which no spark of 
 Progression could kindle, plodding about in the nineteenth 
 century with the heavy lumbering furniture of the sixteenth in his 
 brain, hating everyone and everything that savoured of enlighten- 
 ment and improvement, and embodying a capital idea of the 
 spirit that imprisoned as a sorcerer the poor Somersetshire ma- 
 
ASKING CONSENT. 179 
 
 thematician for daring to invent magnifying glasses. The other 
 drinking in with avidity every healthful stream of knowledge 
 rushing from the giant fountains of intellect, and seeking to spread 
 the refreshing current far and wide over the desert soil of societv, 
 till all should be irrigated and nourished by the flow — hailing, with 
 a jubilant joy, every effort made and" sustained by the right- 
 hearted, for improving the condition, bodily and spiritually, of the 
 whole human family, and labouring with self-denying devotion, in 
 the sacred cause of humanizing the crime-sunk masses. Per- 
 haps it might have been said of him, as of all master minds, he 
 was as much before his age as the doctor was behind it, and in 
 conjunction the latter resembled those ponderous hay-rick looking 
 articles that still infest our dockyards, yclept " transports," beside 
 the graceful, easily-moving steam-frigate, gliding to her desired 
 haven like a " thing of life ; " or the stagnant bosom of the Dead Sea 
 beside the dancing, glittering, joyous ripples of the living ocean. 
 
 After all, it is only the Christian man who enters into the 
 height and depth of that imperishable sentiment of the Imperial 
 slave,— 
 
 " Nil humanum a me alienum puto ! " 
 
 When the door closed on the young pastor the Guardian shook 
 himself into his easy chair, from whence he had partially risen, 
 and somehow he did not feel quite so grand as he usually did ; 
 bigot, and prejudiced as he was, there was something [in the 
 manly and graceful forbearanee with which Courtenaye had met 
 and grappled the taunts and sneers leveled so unsparingly at 
 him— something in the frank, generous manner in which he took 
 his own unwilling hand that twinged uncomfortably — he coloured, 
 and was not quite so potent and self-satisfied as he was a few 
 hours before. 
 
 Young assures us, that — 
 
 " The man who blushes is not quite a brute," 
 
 and though this assertion may form a deeply interesting subject 
 of enquiry as to its orthodoxy, it is the very idea just) here, our 
 worthy Poor-Law man was not " quite a brute ;" there were in 
 his selfish heart Ungerings of humanity, and germs of better feeling 
 that in the spring-time might have been cherished and cultivated 
 
 n 2 
 
180 A LIFE-LONG STOKY. 
 
 into beauty ; and now the impression left upon its surface by the 
 noble being just departed, was like the perfume of the scented 
 lilies said to spring up from the hard stony soil swept over by 
 self- destroying genius ; while the chances are vastly in Mary's 
 favor, that had she found a " spirit in her feet," and entered the 
 study at that precise moment, much good might therefrom have 
 arisen ; but the spirit must have been asleep, or at any rate not 
 wide awake. 
 
 So there the doctor sat musing musing and if the flitting 
 
 shadows of his mental kaleidoscope could have been caught and 
 stereotyped, they would have stood out something after this 
 fashion : 
 
 " Good-looking fellow enough, for that matter 
 
 Nothing but trouble now-a-days Should 
 
 miss her sadly Good little soul, too . . . 
 
 . . . Plenty of sense if it wasn't for his curst religion 
 
 , Nothing but vexation now 
 
 Pity he isn't in our church Don't much wonder 
 
 that she likes the] fellow Pretty nigh bored 
 
 to death Wonder if there is any good 
 
 in the plan he spoke about Could do some- 
 thing for that Make a noble pair . . . 
 
 . . . His eyes are not unlike little Papa's ...... 
 
 Curst methodist Call upon that rogue Red- 
 man Should miss her terribly .... 
 
 . . Why don't that impertinent jackanapes Redman come up 
 
 My life tormented out of me ....... 
 
 Could marry again to be sure !" (and here he mentally looked 
 over a long list of delightful young ladies of his acquaintance, to 
 either one of whom he seemed to possess that remarkable 
 instinct born with some men of knowing he had only to hold up 
 his finger, and " ask Papa " would immediately follow, though his 
 old besetting admirer, Miss Scandalson, was not among the 
 
 number) "Don't half fancy it ... . 
 
 . . No peace since the day she first saw the canting popinjay 
 . . . . Wish the Leslies had been at Jericho .... 
 Took it all good-tempered enough, for that matter . . First 
 
 thing to-morrow morning will have that Will 
 
 No peace now but to give consent 
 
 . . . Just take a few minutes' nap before dinner . . . 
 . . . Bored to death death .... 
 
ASKING CONSENT. 181 
 
 hang that fly Redman to-morrow morning 
 
 M-o-r-n-i-n-g Hang that 
 
 flv haug that f-l-y hang 
 
 that Redman hang R-e-d-m-a-n . . . . 
 
 }> 
 
 Av ! and serve him richly right too, my dear sir ! but you are 
 only half-awake, and do not recollect that laughable idea of your 
 old friend Sir Roger de Coverley, " none but men of bright 
 parts ought to be hanged. 1 ' 
 
 The half- hour bell roused the sleeper, and he woke, as little 
 babies sometimes wake, cross and red, inclined to shake their 
 heads negatively at everything and everybody, hence very little 
 past between Mary and himself during dinner, but he broke out 
 into a loud discharge of vituperation against " that abominably 
 careless creature, the cook ! " who had " almost been the death" of 
 him, by leaving the guilty leg of a shrimp in the sauce, and ill 
 at ease, he was moody and taciturn ; Mary full of troubled 
 foreboding, sad and silent, and as soon as she could do so she 
 withdrew to watch with passionate eagerness and anxiety some 
 communication from Courtenaye, on which the whole force of her 
 being seemed to rest. But the evening deepened into night, and 
 still it came not ; yet when she laid her radiant head on her 
 pillow, she had found some excellent reason for her darling's 
 silence — some heart bough whereon to hang a wreath of hope. 
 
 Oh ! gracious child of all times and seasons, enchanting Hope ! 
 
 "With thy sun-lit eye, and thy rainbow locks, thou lookest out 
 on us in life's magic morn, ere grief has chilled Joy's rushing 
 current with the napping of its raven wing, ere u taking thought 
 for the morrow" has furrowed the brow, or doubt and suspicion, 
 with their sirocco breath, have tainted the trusting heart, 
 which thinks "all is gold that glitters," and speaks as it feels! 
 
 Thou lookest out on us in the many-hued mid-day, with its 
 busy steps and its eager voices ; when the unmeaning laugh, the 
 stifled sigh, the malignant whisper, the harsh tale, the crushing 
 cares, the withering anxieties, the stinging vexations, the burning 
 tear-drop, and the vacant place all point to thy witching music, 
 thy cheery song ! 
 
 Thou lookest out on us, too in the shadowy twilight, when the 
 sun goes down lingeringly, as loth to leave a world in gloom, 'erst 
 so brightened by his smile ; and even ancient night brings out the 
 
182 A LIFE-LONG STORT". 
 
 jewels for his regal crown one by one, slowly unfurling his sable 
 banner over life's scenes of beauty; while faithful memory 
 unrolls her dear but blotted scroll, and the loved and lost are 
 beside us as of yore, with eyes of watchful love, and tender 
 clasping hand ; when voices long hushed in death's unbroken 
 quiet, go sighing their low sad melody through all her mazy 
 caverns ; and forms, over whom the glad flowers bloom, the gay 
 bird sings unheeded, start into mimic life, and we stretch forth 
 our yeamtrig arms to clasp those shadow-treasures, whose vacant 
 place in neart or homestead none may ever fill ; but 
 
 " Hope still lifts her radiant finger, 
 Pointing to the eternal home, 
 Upon whose portals still they linger, 
 Looking back for us to come." 
 
 " Oh ! if no other hope were given, 
 
 To keep the heart from wrong and stain, 
 Who would not wish for such a heaven. 
 Where all we love, shall live again." 
 
GLOOM. 183 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 cSloom. 
 
 " What is thought? in wild succession, 
 Whence proceeds the motley train ? 
 What first stamps the vague impression 
 On the ever active brain? " 
 
 Day opened with outstretched newly fledged wings of hope to 
 Mary; as it deepened into stirring Noon they napped 
 heavily ; and when Night lay down on hill and valley they 
 folded themselves heavily on her troubled breast. 
 
 Thus wore away the second and third day ; no word from him 
 to whom she clung with passionate affection, intensified by an 
 indefinable apprehension of coming ill. 
 
 " Oh, what could produce this long, strange silence!" Had 
 she given her idol cause to regret the past by any display of 
 weakness or inconsistency ! Was he ill, and if so, why did he 
 not write ? Had her father refused him discourteously, and his 
 sensitive spirit shrunk from again contacting with him, and 
 lience he silently withdrew ! 
 
 And Julia — where is her wise and tender counsellor ? Have 
 nil the world, enshrined in her heart suddenly forgotton her very 
 existence, — and how long is this unbearable suspense to last !'' 
 She threw herself on her knees, and burying her anxious brow in 
 her hands, wept passionately. 
 
 Now, she will speak to her father — tell him all she has 
 suffered, and ask him what passed between him and her idol. 
 Then, she shrinks as she remembers that sudden and harsh 
 probing her heart had formerly undergone, and she cannot brave 
 another such ordeal. 
 
184 A LIFE-LONG STORY; 
 
 Oh, the depths in love's sea can be sounded by no unskilful 
 hand! 
 
 The instinctive teachings of true affection are ever prompting 
 to hide its weal or woe in some secret nook of the surrendered 
 heart, and if a name — whose music wakes Hope's song, or 
 falls like Hope's knell on that mysterious thing, — can crimson or 
 pale the brow, — what, when it is handled roughly, carelessly, — 
 what, when it is slandered, blamed ! 
 
 Mary rejected every plan that one after another rose before 
 her ; she had denied herself to all visitors, save Mrs. Leslie ; but 
 as the suspense grew, gathering force under the lagging hours, 
 the burden became intolerable, and she hastily threw on 
 her walking dress, intending to visit some of her recently neg- 
 lected proteges, with the wholesome hope, that contemplating or 
 solacing the grief of others would enable her to bear her own 
 with more submission. 
 
 True it is, something between pride and prudence, hope and 
 fear, whispered "but if you meet hunt" and then another some- 
 thing answered, " I shall know the truth, and anything would 
 be bliss to this cruel suspense." 
 
 Poor child! Impulsive and emotional, endued with acute 
 powers of feeling — late reeling beneath its intoxication of bliss, 
 now festering under its load of fear, — her undisciplined heart 
 seeks not the one Hiding-place from the storm, nor listens to the 
 voice that can whisper, "peace, be still /" over the wild grief-billows, 
 and a great calm comes ; but alone, and with memory bleeding 
 at every pore, on she goes to battle with the giant Despair. Who 
 is sufficient for these things ? 
 
 Mary had just reached the end of the flower path leading into 
 the road, when a note from Mrs. Leslie was put into her hand, 
 begging her to " come and sit an hour with her: " — short as it 
 had been, the walk had already undulated the load on her heart; 
 she could scarce look on the world of floral loveliness around 
 her, and the current of her thoughts remain unbroken, or 
 diverted for a moment from their troubled source. Few were 
 more keenly alive to the poetry of Nature and its exalting in- 
 fluences than she was, hence the load moved, but did not roll 
 off; the flowers — love them though she did — ever preaching of 
 purity, gratitude and peace as they were, and whispering that 
 " the grace and beauty thereof peridot!" had not power to take 
 the burden away : before she reached Mrs. Leslie's it had 
 
GLOOM. 185 
 
 returned, and she had involuntarily invested all things around 
 her -with the atmosphere of her own gloomy thoughts. 
 
 "I have been anxious to see you the last three days, my love," 
 said Julia, affectionately kissing the pale cheek of her friend, 
 which alarmed her, although she forbore to notice it, "my 
 bov-bird has been so very unwell, that I feared to leave him 
 during Harry's absence in Scotland, for I thought he was a little 
 measleish, as all mammas do whenever they hear an extra sneeze 
 from the wee thing," and she smiled gaily, adding, " but how is it 
 vou have not been to console me in my two-fold trial V* 
 
 " How sorry I am dear little Donald is ill ! Has he a cold?" 
 evaded Mary. 
 
 " Yes, nothing more, I believe ; or his teeth trouble him, 
 but he is much better to day. Why have you not called, as 
 usual ! Have you not been well, or unusually dissipated ? or 
 wearing the willow, like a true lady-love, at Courtenaye's 
 absence V* 
 
 "Mr. Courtenaye's absence*."" exclaimed Mary, starting, her face 
 face flushing only to leave it paler than before." I was not aware 
 he had left "the town." 
 
 Mrs. Leslie saw the fluctuating colour, but forbore to seek the 
 confidence she doubted not would be given, if necessary, and 
 informed her interested listener, that Fred had that morning 
 received a short and hurried note from the object of her solicitude, 
 containing an account of the dangerous illness of his father ; but 
 she asked. — 
 
 " "Were you not aware, darling, that Mr. Courtenaye had been 
 sent for in great haste on Monday last, just after his return from 
 calling on vour father, to the bedside of his own, who had 
 been much injured by a fall from his carriage ?"' 
 
 "No!" replied Marv, "I have not heard anything of Mr. 
 
 Courtenaye, since since " The colour came and 
 
 went with painful rapidity, and her voice became tremulous, 
 
 li since the day he you " she paused, embarassed, 
 
 and Mrs. Leslie added, in the geutlest tone, "the day I gave 
 him an opportunity of telling his love. Was not that what you 
 intended to say, deargirl ? " 
 
 " Yes,*' answered Mary, softly, the tears springing into her eyes, 
 and another painful pause followed, which her friend broke 
 by asking if she would accompany her into Donald's nursery, to 
 
186 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 which she consented, with "an abstraction so unlike herself that it 
 troubled and surprised Julia, and while she felt there must 
 be something very unusual surging in the bosom of the dear girl 
 before her, and longed to sympathise and counsel, she also felt 
 that there is in heart matters a heart etiquette, whose refined 
 barriers the most intimate and beloved friend may not lightly 
 over-step, or turn aside uninvited, even to pour in the needed 
 sympathy and counsel. She did not even evince her recognition 
 of this change, save by the tenderness of her manner towards her 
 young favourite. Mary refused all entreaties to remain and pass 
 the remainder of the'day, and she left anxious, troubled, and full of 
 vexation with herself because of her silence towards her faithful 
 counsellor ; but how could she confess even to her, the slight she 
 could not now hide that Courtenaye had offered her by his silence. 
 
 No ! no ! others shall not blame him if she does not ; and 
 when she reached her home, once more she threw herself on her 
 knees, hid her burning face in her hands, and then came the 
 struggle between Love and Pride, one of those every-day life- 
 battles fought around us, of which others take no ken, being seen 
 only by one Eye, and known but to one Being. The former con- 
 quered, for the strife was unequal ; — when was Love ever van- 
 quished by Pride in woman's heart ? 
 
 Now she trusts him all the more entirely for the momentary 
 strife, during which, she has in heart listened again to the deep 
 music of that voice which awoke such wondrous bliss in her soul, 
 as it murmured, " I will save you ! I will save you, beloved I" 
 
 She has lived over those few moments of the past, whose 
 memory will haunt her with their sweetness, till the heart itself is 
 still. Can we wonder Love remained the victor ! 
 
 Now she is angry with herself for even the little wound in her 
 pride — "of course he has some good reason for his silence — he 
 will explain to morrow — perhaps return and surprise her. How 
 her pulses quickened at the thought ! He, the true hearted, 
 the noble, the high minded, influenced by caprice, or the rough 
 words of others ? Never, never ! 
 
 Then she gathers up all the stray rays of Hope reflected from 
 these bright memories, and weaves them into an enchanted robe, 
 throws it around her heart, and seeks her late sleepless couch, 
 Three more days are added to the past, and yet no tidings I 
 
 Trouble and anguish again take hold upon the despairing girl, 
 and the enchanted robe becomes sackcloth. 
 
■»-»-* 
 
 GLOOM. 187 
 
 The doctor had returned to his usual animalism ; he eat, he 
 drank, he slept, all unheeding the strife going on in the bosom 
 before him, too plainly evinced by the pale cheek and the faltering 
 voice : yet the eye of affection is ever quick to mark a change in 
 that it loves ; perhaps the selfish man did notice it, but forbore to 
 comment for fear of a "scene" or "tears." Be that as it may, 
 he never lay down on his bed without fully purposing to call on 
 that " rogue Redman" the first thing in the morning, and do 
 way with that Will ,at any rate ;" but when the morning came, the 
 over-night's resolve had grown faint, and brightened not again till 
 after dinner. 
 
 Thus passed away eight weary days ! Mrs. Leslie had joined 
 her husband in Scotland, and though obliged to mix in society at 
 home and abroad, Mary was thrown entirely on the gnawing of 
 her own stricken heart : and it required all her strength of 
 mind and courage to enable her, without betraying suffering, to 
 listen to the report of her brother at the tea-table. 
 
 " At last the bubble had burst, and the popular preacher 
 Saint Courtenaye, had cut and run to avoid being arrested for 
 debts to a large amount he had gammoned some of his congre- 
 gation by contracting ; • that his house was shut up, servants 
 discharged, and he had ' bolted,' no one knew whither." 
 ^ As soon as she could do so Mary sought the sanctum of her 
 chamber, neither waiting to hear her father's comments or her 
 brother's sarcasms, for the latter had quite enough knowledge of 
 the human heart, to be aware that in proportion as obstacles are 
 thrown in the current of its affections, they grow and intensify. 
 He hoped much, too, from the impulsiveness of Mary, whom he 
 well knew would onlv dins the more confidingly to the man she 
 loved when his character was assailed, whether justly or unjustly. 
 
 It is but fair, however, to say, that in repeating the above, 
 J. Grenville did not fabricate all the report. The suddenness of 
 Courtenaye's departure, though its why and wherefore were 
 known to all whom it really concerned,*presented an opportunity 
 not to be lost by those whom it did not concern, to get up some 
 story to the disadvantage and disparagement of one whose life 
 presented too fair a contrast to their own malformed development 
 of Christianity ; hence the monstrous falsehoods forged and 
 propagated by the anti-progi jssive party. 
 
 Marv remained some time alone. Now she bitterlv regrets 
 not having confided in Mrs. Leslie, and several sheets are 
 
188 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 commenced, " My own true friend Julia," and thrown aside. 
 
 Then she will tell her papa alU and ask his advice and counsel ; 
 but, alas ! what can he advise ? Are not appearances against her 
 idol?" 
 
 It was a terribly blotted page, this dark one in love's young 
 history, and few are the heart-biographies which no tears have 
 dimmed ! 
 
 That was a sad but beautiful conceit of the gifted bard of 
 Erin, who likened the dawn of Love to the old Arabian straits, 
 "the .gate of tears." It is often such, and now, 'mid the 
 lashing and surging of her heart-tempest, Mary pants for a human 
 bosom whereon to lay her head ; but she thinks not of the 
 " rest" so tenderly proffered to the * weary and heavy laden" by 
 One who " spake as never man tpake." 
 
 Her own name, pronounced by her father at her door, roused 
 her from her bitter reverie, and hastily removing all traces of 
 tears, she descended, and to her relief found him quite alone, 
 but looking annoyed. He spoke kindly, and requested her to 
 "give him one of her pretty songs," which would do him good, 
 as he did not feel "over well that evening;." 
 
 " Dearest papa," said Mary, anxiously, for her father looked 
 flushed and feverish, "if you feel ill, pray let Richards go for 
 your friend Dr. Williams," and she passed her cold hand lovingly 
 over his brow, and kissed it. 
 
 " No ! no ! 'tis nothing but a little uncomfortable feeling 
 about my chest ; it will soon go off. I have had it before ; 'tis 
 better even now, and one of your songs will set me quite to 
 rights," replied the doctor. 
 
 "What song shall I sing, dearest papa?" inquired Mary, 
 seating herself at the instrument. 
 
 u Something of your own composing I should like best ; do 
 you ever sing the one poor Augusta set to music — something 
 about "When love's path grows weary?" She set it for you 
 just before she died — don't you recollect?" 
 
 This allusion to her idolised friend brought the liugering tears 
 once more into Mary's eyes, and hastily commencing a prolonged 
 search for her music, though she well knew that song was 
 written on her heart, she made an effort to command her 
 feelings, and sung some simple words of her own composing, in a 
 voice so strangely agitating that even the doctor was moved, and 
 when she rose and came towards him, he put his arm round her, 
 
GLOOM. 1S9 
 
 and drawing her close, printed a kiss on her cheek, saying in a 
 heart-tone she never had heard from his lips before, " God bless 
 you, my darling !" 
 
 Ah ! that kiss and those kind words repaid her for the anguish 
 which wrung her heart while yielding to his wishes ! 
 
 Let me be loved, — I ask no richer[treasure, 
 
 Than one true heart, to heave its sighs for me ; 
 I seek no music 'mid the halls of pleasure, 
 
 Like that low sigh's soft, murmured, melody ; 
 No wealth, no fame, I turn from all with gladness, 
 
 To this my watching spirit's long-sought home, 
 And meet the eye that casts away all sadness, 
 
 Glancing in sunlight brightness when I come. 
 
 Let me be loved ! 
 
 Let me be loved, — and if life's path is dreary, t 
 
 If friends grow cold, and riches fly away ; 
 If worn beneath Care's load, my days are weary, 
 
 And Hope's crushed buds bestrew my darksome way, — 
 Oh ! as to some lone ruin fondly clinging 
 
 The faithful wallflower knows no change 'mid time, 
 So may this precious love, its perfume flinging 
 
 Around my soul, in life and death be mine. 
 Let me be loved ! 
 
 When they parted for the night, Mary again entreated her 
 father to see his medical friend, but he declared himself " quite 
 well — never better in his life," and gaily bade her " look more 
 cheerful to-morrow, or he should be obliged to send for him to 
 write a prescription for bringing the roses back into her pretty 
 face." 
 
 His cheerful look and manner reassured Mary, and his 
 returned tenderness made her glad, but the weight lay cold and 
 dead upon her heart ; nay, it seemed to press colder, heavier, 
 intenser, as one after another the household voices died away, 
 and she was alone with its thick beating. 
 
 Vainly she woos " kind Nature's soft restorer," and tries to 
 still the pulsating of her bosom. 
 
 Now she starts up, and listens with fixed eye and labouring 
 breath, fancying she hears the voice of Courtenaye calling on her 
 in impassioned accents ; but no ! all is still — terribly still ! 
 
 Aeain she seeks her pillow, but only for a few minutes. Once 
 more she leaps up in the attitude of intense attention. Surely her 
 father called her ! and hastily throwing her dressing-gown over 
 her quivering form, she is at his door. = — 
 
190 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 "Did you call, dear papa?" she asked, as plainly as her 
 chattering teeth would permit. No reply. 
 
 "Dearest papa, did you call?" she repeated, with elevated 
 voice, and every nerve strung as if to meet — she scarce knew 
 what. No reply. 
 
 She opened his door gently. " Did you call, my own papa? 
 Papa ! dear papa ! " and her voice rose almost to a shriek. 
 
 " Who's there ? " vociferated the doctor. What a mountain 
 melted off her heart ! 
 
 " Only me ! I fancied I heaid you call, dearest papa — did 
 you ?" Mary replied. 
 
 " No, you little puss ! What should I call for ? I am quite 
 well. Go and get into bed ; you will catch your death !" 
 
 As •Mary returned, she fancied she saw the outline of her 
 brother's figure on the stairs. M What could he do there? Why 
 did he not speak ? He must have heard her call ! Perhaps 
 'twas only fancy ; and, reassured that her father was quite well, 
 she once more tried to sleep, but in vain : that strange unearthly 
 feeling was again creeping over her, — gathering intenseness from 
 the very reaction of its first terror-inspiring hold. 
 
 " Oh ! what can it be ? Is it a mysterious presentiment of 
 coming ill ? 
 
 " Is it a phantom voice ?" The echo of that last direful name, 
 " Death !" uttered by her father — pealing, muffled, with its 
 solemn, strange vibrations, through all the mazy homes of feeling 
 and memory ? 
 
 The very effort to vanquish the vague terror that had seized 
 her, increased its power, and unable to bear it, she again arose 
 and listened at her father's door. All was still. She opened 
 her window, and bent her fevered brow into the still night, but 
 its very spirituality added to her sense of oppression, and she 
 returned to her chamber determined to while away the dreary 
 hours till dayu break. On a table lay " The Course of Time," 
 and it opened in that sublime passage, u Redemption." Deeply 
 interested, she lingered over the page, and the distant church clock 
 had just chimed three, when she started violently, hearing, as 
 she thought, a deep groan uttered close to her ear ! Seizing the 
 lamp, she again listened at her father's door, but all was still. 
 After waiting some time, and hearing nothing farther to alarm 
 her, she returned to herjroom and continued reading till the day- 
 streaks brightened the dark horizon ; then she sunk into a 
 
GLOOM. 191 
 
 troubled sleep, to dream of her father sinking in a storm, and 
 Courtenaye vainly striving to rescue him. Then the latter, his 
 face still pale and solemn, clasping her hand in his ; but oh ! so, 
 so cold, that her very heart-current chilled ! 
 
 " "Who the secret can unravel 
 Of the body's mystic guest? 
 Who knows how the soul may travel 
 While unconsciously we rest! 
 
 Far abroad it may be flying — 
 
 What is sleep, and what are dreams ? 
 
 Often, in after years, the memory of that strange night rose up 
 before Marv's mental vision, and 'she read its interpretation by 
 the lamp of Time ! 
 
192 A LIFE LONG STORY. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Relations. 
 
 u The sword has slain its hecatombs, so has the lancet, but we doubt 
 if these may not be equalled in number by the pale cohorts of the needle 
 who are flitting hither and thither in the twilight of the silent world.'' 
 
 The Times. 
 
 " Refuse to entertain any idea on the subject," does she my 
 dear, my dear Mrs. Leslie ? Well ! well ! leave her to me, if any 
 one can bring her to reason i" can ; " and Mrs. St. George 
 elevated her Juno-like head, as a self-confident, diplomatic smile 
 stole over her face. " I will take her off your hands," she 
 added, and in an inconceivably short space of time her carriage 
 was seen sweeping towards the first-rate establishment for mil- 
 linery in the town of D , whose principal, Madame John's, had 
 
 shown symptoms of refractoriness, as hinted at above. 
 
 " Things can't go on much longer in this way, mother ! " wailed 
 a sickly child whose bent figure, narrow chest, hollow eye, and 
 bony fingers, as she crouched at her weary task near a fireless 
 grate, suggested thoughts of the time when the angels should say 
 over the little pauper-grave " sleep on now, and take thy rest /" 
 
 " Things can't go on much longer in this way, mother ! " 
 No ! poor little slave of Wrong. No ! mother, with thy weary 
 watching eye, they cannot ! The great Love Spirit broods over 
 the deeps of selfishness and apathy, and the sluggish waves recede, 
 in hoarse murmurs, as day-light breaks and a mighty voice 
 is heard, — " Hitherto shalt thou come, and no farther." 
 
 Watchman ! What of the night ? 
 
 " There is a bright light in the clouds and men see it not" 
 
 A short time before the events the last chapter chronicles, 
 public attention began to be excited, and the indignant sym- 
 
REVELATIONS. 193 
 
 pathies of the right-thinking aroused for that oppressed and 
 down-trodden class, our milliners and dressmakers. Fearful 
 revelations of mental and bodily suffering, caused by 
 unremitting labour had not only touched the magnetic wire of 
 sympathy which thrilled through the length and breadth of the 
 land, but had made themselves heard in the very council cham- 
 ber of Legislation. 
 
 The fierce thirst for gold, and the rabid speculation it gave 
 birth to — the whirlwind of traffic sustained by, and wrung out of, 
 the souls and bodies of helpless victims — the God-insulting 
 appropriation of the Sabbath in its unholy toil — the sickening 
 details of suffering and inhumanity,' ending in despair, guilt , disease, 
 suicide, death, had awoke the desires of all right-hearted people 
 for the overthrow of so terrible a system ; and they entered the 
 lists against the Hydra-headed monster, strong in the truth that 
 
 " Thrice is he armed, who has his quarrel just." 
 
 Recognizing in this move, so supremely in the right direction, 
 a stirring appeal to God's ministers, — His guardians of the 
 interests of humanity, to be on their watch-towers, Courtenaye 
 enters all the energies of his soul unto it, and labours to stay the 
 progress of the social leprosy in the sphere of his own influence ; 
 
 for the orthodox town of D was in no way behind the 
 
 modern Babylons in the number of sacrifices it annually laid on 
 • the altar Fashion ; of which a specimen has been presented in 
 our sixth chapter, in the fate of the self-destroyed Daisy. 
 
 Recognizing moreover, with almost prophetic vision, that the 
 Spirit moving over the abyss of selfishness, and silently but surely 
 leavening institutions with a new element, was the overshadow- 
 ing love of his Master, — tracing this fact not less distinctly in the 
 many simple agencies raising their heads in the flinty soil around, 
 and gladdening them with the smile of meek-eyed Charity and 
 silver-voiced Sympathy, then when the blast of the Gospel trump 
 shook the foundations of that philosophic court, where " Athens' 
 wisest son perished, and her most eloquent son thundered," and 
 deeply imbued with the conviction that all speculations, and 
 theories, and enterprises for the threefold regeneration of the 
 species, apart from " the Faith which worketh by love," were but 
 " clouds without water," — many a morning's light-streak found 
 the self-denying pastor suggesting, revolving and organizing 
 plans for the surest method of grappling with an enemy, whose 
 
194: A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 power and strength he does not undervalue. He seeks the 
 council chamber of the Great King, and he knows that 
 whether " men will bear, or whether they forbear," the thing 
 shall prosper, " for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it, " hence 
 he goes out well armed to meet the difficulties involved in attack- 
 ing a system, and leaving individuals uninjured, and a less ardent 
 spirit would have quailed before the fiery dragons in the way. 
 His first efforts in the sacred cause were singularly unsuccessful ; 
 his personal appeals— manly and consistent with the true inter- 
 ests of political economy as they were, fell like a summer shower 
 on the leaden bosom of\some inland lake — just a ripple, and all 
 was sluggish as before. 
 
 Oh! the terrible petrifaction of the heart when Selfishness 
 is the master of action, and holds carnival there ! Surely nothing 
 less powerful than indwelling grace can sustain the heart and 
 nerve it to rise up again and again, after being " cast down ;" and 
 it was this that enabled Counenaye to return to the charge with 
 revivified vigour after each defeat.' He recollects the past "and he 
 can trust for the future. He thinks of the noble phalanx of 
 favoured existencies whose small and inadequate beginnings had 
 to fight their way inch by inch, with Ignorance and Sectarianism. 
 He gathers courage as he looks on the God-blessed Ragged 
 School, going on " conquering and to conquer," while nobles 
 catch the inspiration, and princes kneel to plant an acorn from 
 the spreading oak. The "little seed" was not to be pooh 
 pooh'd away ! Oh no ! It was the right kind of seed, blown 
 by the breath of the Spirit from the granary of the Great 
 Husbandman, nourished by the dews of heaven, warmed by the 
 Sun of Righteousness, watched by the holy stars, and at length 
 it became a great tree, its branches reaching to the skies. 
 
 These memories cheer on the devoted man in his warfare 
 against cold-blooded apathy, iron-walled bigotry, and latter-day 
 Egyptian darkness, on behalf of the " right and true," still his 
 heart often sinks, for was not this monster Sin to be attacked, 
 and driven from its citadel, the heart of woman ? Alas ! 
 that Fashion should be the exacting idol in that holy shrine, and 
 her gaudy car driven recklessly over the souls and bodies of 
 those whom our common Father willeth not " should perish ." 
 
 " Alas ! that woman, sent on an angel's mission, and endued 
 with an angel's powers," should become the abject slave of 
 fashion, and exhibit a soul prostration, rivaling the worshippers 
 
REVELATIONS. 195 
 
 of Osiris and Juggernaut ! Their human sacrifices immolated 
 only bodv ; these, body and soul. Their worship deprecated 
 the wrath of devils ; this insults and travesties the name they 
 bear, and tramples under feet the legacy of their dying Lord, 
 " Love one another, as I have loved tou." 
 
 " I wish all my hearers were like yon, and my own sainted 
 mother," remarked Courtenaye, to Mrs. Leslie, one day after a 
 useless campaign, " then we should soon have to lay down our 
 weapons, and I grieve to say, did the success of our cause 
 depend on the poor instead of on the higher classes, the struggle 
 would soon cease. It is the down-trodden, and over-worked, 
 who feel for the down- trodden and over- worked. It is the poor 
 who know what it is to toil, toil, toil, * weary, and heavy laden,' 
 hence the difference in the sympathies of the classes.' ' 
 
 But the power that " moves the Arm that moves the world," 
 could not be Ion 2; unfelt. Praver was made without ceasing, 
 and the answer came. 
 
 The consistency of Courtenaye' s character (and even his 
 enemies could not gainsay that, so they dropped the term 
 hypocrite and substituted fanatic) had given him weight in 
 the opinions of many of the better-taught of his townsmen ; for 
 somehow, people are never deceived by actions, though they are 
 by words ; and even those.who clung with childish delight to the 
 f< good old times," and found their 
 
 " Ignorance such bliss — 'twas folly to be wise," 
 
 qualified their respect for him, with a commiserating shake 
 of the head, and " a pity he didn't belong to their church!" 
 while, poor dear souls ! had any one asked them which was the 
 church, par excellence, the " high," or the " low'' the " one in 
 the house" so often referred to by the apostles, or the " one on 
 the mountain," to which the King of Preachers preached, they 
 would have been as much at a loss as the old woman who, after 
 being plied and mystified almost to bewilderment by questions 
 and linguistic contortions that would have confounded a German 
 neologist, was asked by her Anglo-popish " spiritual adviser," if 
 she knew what was "strictly orthodox? " to which sage inquiry 
 she replied, in great agitation, — 
 
 " The Lord forgive me, sir ! But I don't know no docks but 
 the London Docks, where my old man works I " 
 
 o2 
 
196 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 Hence, as before said, among those who went to their religion 
 for their orthodoxy, and not to their orthodoxy for their religion, 
 much of the rough edge of party spirit was fined down, and 
 the hard-working pastor began ; to number several hitherto 
 antagonistic families in the good cause ; but those " principals" 
 of establishments who can look unmoved on such masses of 
 human suffering as their work-rooms present, and as shewn up 
 in the " disclosures," were not likely to be influenced by the 
 voice of public opinion, however loud and deep. He, therefore, 
 resolved to strike at the root-form of this crying sin, and 
 endeavour to awaken in the breasts of those with whom it rested 
 a sense of their responsibilites, and of their duty to God and 
 their fellow-creatures. 
 
 As the. Pulpit ever should be the medium through which 
 abuses are dealt with, the young reformer's preaching became 
 the channel for reaching the consciences of the oppressors ; and 
 in his efforts he was promptly seconded by the most influential 
 journal in the county. It is promising when ihe Pulpit and the 
 Press work together ; their union produces a fertilizing that many 
 seasons of drought cannot counteract. 
 
 The whole of Courtenaye's addresses to women were extensively 
 circulated, and there came a " shaking of the dry bones," and a 
 heaving on the torpid bosom of society that stimulated him and 
 his little band of warriors to increased exertion. 
 
 Addressing his flock on the subject, he selected that scathing 
 inquiry of his Maker to the first fratricide, — 
 
 "What hast thou done? The voice of thy brother's 
 Blood crieth unto me from the ground ;" 
 and, although it may be profitable to record the whole dis- 
 course, noting the skill with which he amplified and adapted it 
 to his purpose, want of space forbids more than an extract here 
 and there. 
 
 • *•••••••• 
 
 "As Christ's ambassador, I magnify mine office, and stand 
 between the dead and the living, praying that this plague 
 may be stayed." " I magnify mine office, watching for your souls 
 as one who must give account, and repeat the solemn enquiry, 
 What hast thou done ? but I dare not drop, with morbid and 
 indecent curiosity, the grappling iron of the Confessional into 
 your consciences, bringing up from its depth the polluting dis- 
 closure that should be bared to Him alone who has power to 
 
REVELATIONS. 197 
 
 forgive sins ; rather would I urge on each a solemn needfulness 
 to the voice -within, making inquisition "what hast thou done?" 
 
 Has the cry of him " who reaped thy field, and thou hast kept 
 back part of his hire," entered into the ears of the Lord of Hosts, 
 and He has sworn in His wrath, that for this He will call 
 thee into judgment ?" 
 
 Because ** thou wert a hard man, reaping where thou hast not 
 sown," has the tear of the orphan and widow been put into * the 
 bottle of God's remembrance labelled, for this, "write that 
 
 HAN CHILDLESS." 
 
 My sister ! has the anguish-cry from the white-lipped child of 
 oppressive toil gone up into the ear of thy Father in heaven, 
 because thou hast not heeded the voices around thee, but " passed 
 by on the other side, caring for none of these things ?" 
 
 Hast thou lived in pleasure, saying, "I sit a queen, and 
 shall see no sorrow!" while the leprous spot selfishness has 
 been spreading its virus as a moral gangrene — eating away 
 the tender fibres connecting thee with the Great Sympathizer ? 
 
 No sympathy for thy sister! "flesh of thy flesh," as she 
 agonizes through the long night hours, hollow-cheeked, and 
 weary-eyed, wasting her life in creating for you Fashion's 
 flaunting draperies, which will cling around and eat into your soul 
 like fire when the " dance and the viol shall be for ever silent." 
 
 No sympathy for yon consumptive girl, for the third consecutive 
 night palpitating in the atmosphere of the crowded workroom 
 feculent with death, as she dashes away the tear that blisters her 
 hectic cheek, crying out in her agony, "How long, Oh Lord! 
 How long!" while thought has flown back to the king-cupped 
 fields, and the pleasant voices, and memories of a mother-lighted 
 home ! 
 
 No sympathy for yon orphan, downed with such witching, yet 
 fatal beauty, as goaded on by despair, she flies with fevered 
 brain, into' the outstretched arms of gilded guilt — immolating 
 soul and body in its fearful vortex rather than groan under the 
 galling servitude of the workroom ! 
 
 No sympathy for the father as his grey hairs go down to the 
 grave in sorrow ; nor for the mother broken hearted, and shrink- 
 ing as the name of her^ child, which once woke such melody, 
 is branded, and she goes softly in the bitterness of her soul with 
 
 the shame-spot deepening on her wasting cheek ! 
 
 Oh ! will you not unitedly rise and live down the 
 
 fast-spreading belief that you "'care for none of these things?" 
 
198 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 For the sake of dazzling a few fevered hours 'mid the hollow 
 mirth of Pleasure's temple, snuffing up the blood-tainted breath 
 of Fashion, as she sweeps by distilling poison from her deadly 
 wings, can you forego the high and holy mission so emphati- 
 cally yours, and continue to act the enquiry, " Am I my Sisters 
 Keeper ?" 
 
 V/ill you not rather awake to the vast and solemn responsibili- 
 ties underlying that mission, and identify yourselves with those 
 grand-hearted women of old, with whom the world's Redeemer 
 for a while veiled His glories, and tabernacled, — with those 
 true ones " who, when the cold reluctance of man stood 
 aloof, shrinking back with selfish alarm, followed their deserted 
 Lord with outwellings of sympathy, and were last at the Cross, 
 and first at the Tomb." 
 
 The fashion of this world passeth away ! "What is your life ? 
 it is even as the flower of grass. " Passing away" is the 
 mournful requiem ever chanting over earth's pomps and glories. 
 A few more setting suns, and where will be her crowns and 
 sceptres ? Go, ask the lonely ruins of those Empires that once 
 filled the world with their renown ! Go, ask the new-made grave, 
 and the desolate hearth ! 
 
 I beseech you, then, by all the hopes and fears that will gather 
 around your death-hour, when your remembered deeds will stand 
 out in fearful distinctness, lighted by a fast-coming eternity, — by 
 that tremendous day when the heavens shall be rolled together as 
 a scroll, and "the dead small and great," shall be judged by their 
 works, — by the wondrous love and mercy that spared not the 
 priceless blood of Christ for you, think on these things ! 
 
 Come to the foot of Calvary and learn sympathy there, 
 " laying up for yourselves treasures where no rust doth 
 corrupt " 
 
 This address, delivered with the solemn eloquence of a 
 u dying man to dying men," " magnifying his office," was hope- 
 fully responded to. The young preacher's friends already 
 numbered many of considerable influence, but though promising 
 well, there was room for doubt of ultimate success in the great 
 struggle. 
 
 Moved by the power of Truth, some of his hearers, in the heat 
 of their newly-born fervour, mentally resolved to do wonders for the 
 good cause ; but alas ! when the working, self-denying, portion 
 of their " wonders " was called for, ardour cooled, and resolve 
 
REVELATIONS. 199 
 
 died out ; so easily is the heart, especially of woman, raised or 
 depressed ! 
 
 No wonder there was " room for doubt," for that most detri- 
 mental fallacy shrouded in self-love, and denizening myriad 
 graves of usefulness in England's moral cemeteries, " what 
 influence can one exert ?" " what good can / do ?" exerted its 
 power, hence Courtenaye grappled it, citing the great Apostle's 
 inspired authority, — " no man liveth unto himself;'''' but as his 
 appeals to the women of his pastorate are best adapted to these 
 pages, we will select from them a few words rousing from " dead 
 faith to living works." 
 
 " After all that has been proved of the power and capabilities of 
 woman, — after the pages of history, sacred and profane, brightened 
 with deeds of lofty heroism, and self-denial have been enrolled, 
 does she, in this our day, rise up to her privileges and responsi- 
 bilities ? Deeply regretful, we must acknowledge she does not : 
 she listens to the teacher's voice, perhaps thinking he " charms 
 wisely," and while the vibrations of his " song" linger on the sus- 
 ceptible area of her feelings, she makes high resolves and creates 
 splendid projects in her fertile imagination which rarely exist 
 beyond the fleeting hour ; another " charmer " comes by, and 
 the momentary enthusiasm evaporates, and she wonders " what 
 could have moved her so strangely !" 
 
 Thus does she allow the " din of Time to drown the murmurs 
 of Eternity," gliding onward in " Pleasure's painted pinnace " 
 towards the great solemn ocean, "caring for none of these 
 things." 
 
 Onward she glides, and so does the world around her, with its 
 undried tears ; its [unshared sorrows ; its unredressed wrongs ; 
 its disregarded cries ; its unrelieved oppressions ; its unslaked 
 cravings ; its unsaved souls ! Onward she glides, 'mid sunshine 
 and song, drinking greedily in the " music of Time's babbling 
 rill, and drowning, the ' murmurs of Eternity.' " 
 
 "No mighty cry, Stay ! oh stay, till I have mourned my foul 
 offence in repentant tears !" as the recording angel takes his 
 unwilling flight to enter in the ledger of heaven, "ye oppress the 
 poor and the needy; also in thy skirts is found the blood of poor 
 innocents" 
 
 Ah, my fellow-sinner ! How will ye bear all the billows and 
 waves of the a wrath of the Lamb" rolling over your naked souls ? 
 — the great gulf between your torment and heaven's eternal 
 
200 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 summer fixed for ever !" " They who would pass from hence to you 
 cannot, neither can they pass to us who would come from thence' 
 
 " The Master has risen up and shut the door." No more love- 
 pleadings. Come, let us reason together : why will ye die Now ? 
 No more mercy-droppings from the bruised and "broken heart 
 on Calvary's mournful hill Now ! No more gentle strivings of 
 the insulted Spirit Now ! The great gulf is Fixed ! " Ye would 
 not come unto me and have life." No ; ye would not, though I 
 stretched forth my arms all the day long, beseeching thee with 
 tears of blood to come, and now the gulf is Fixed ! . . . 
 
 My sisters, I pray you meet me not with the decrepit sophism 
 'you have no influence,' 'one can do little amid such crowds of 
 conflicting interests !' ' one voice would soon be drowned !' 
 ' one influence is of no avail !' Shall we turn to history's thrilling 
 records, and trace woman in all its great movements and mighty 
 revolutions ?" Shall we gather up every stray beam of thought 
 into one focus, and meditate on the height and depth of that 
 queen of words, within whose horizon lies the germ of the world's 
 moral regeneration— Mothers ? Shall we invoke the shades of 
 heroes, and philosophers, and martyrs, to yield up the shadowy 
 memory of the first tones that vibrated on the chords of feeling, 
 and moved impressions which, after years had rolled away, 
 embodied themselves in actions that have left their stamp upon 
 revolving ages? Nay, rather shall we not lift Faith's vision 
 beyond the starry worlds where, " seeing eye to eye," and basking 
 in the noontide fulfilment of the promise, 'thou shalt know 
 hereafter/ we shall recognise in those 
 
 " Crowned kings nearest the eternal throne," 
 
 those whose earliest footsteps were planted on the Rock of Ages, 
 by her who obeyed her Lord's command, " Take this child and 
 nurse it for Me." 
 
 • ••••••... 
 
 At the close of [the action in which he received his death- 
 wound, the young soldier was found under a bush, and open 
 before him, the leaves all stained with blood, his dead hand 
 resting on it, lay his mother's Bible, records sainted Gerrard 
 Noel. 
 
 " I should have been an infidel, but for the hallowed memory of 
 my mother's fervent < God bless and keep my boy !' as she 
 
RE VEXATIONS. 201 
 
 nightly laid her gentle hand on my head," was the instructive 
 testimony of the holy Newton'. Yes, man goes out to fight life's 
 mighty "battle, whose victories are pceaned in the Eternal City, 
 with the impress his mother's hand left on heart and brow, and 
 will you tell me M woman can do nothing?" Nay, will you not 
 exert this potent element in your moral being, and enrol your- 
 selves among " whatsoever things are pure, and lovely, and of 
 good report V* Not by an impulsive, undisciplined enthusiasm, 
 cooling down when self-sacrifice is demanded; not by an 
 ephemeral spasm of sympathy, which will evaporate when the 
 world's admiring gaze* is turned away, and none can see but the 
 sleepless eye of God ; not by the unholy excitement of party zeal, 
 but by arraying yourselves in that most lovely robe, Charity, 
 which one of your sex has finely compared to the flowering capital 
 of the Corinthian column, crowning and beautifying the whole !" 
 We read that the judges of the Areopagus condemned a 
 man to death for dashing to the ground a trembling dove that 
 sought shelter in his bosom! Shall the iustinctive teachings 
 ot heathenism shame the actions of those reared amid the 
 humanising precepts of Christianity ? Mothers ! can you cast 
 away from you the trembling race seeking your sympathy and 
 protection?' Come! look unmoved, if you dare, on these dark 
 pictures of suffering sorrow and toiling oppression ! How know 
 you that 'mid the strange inconstancies of this shifting life, ere 
 your eve now following lovingly the tiny footsteps that 
 
 "Make me'ody where'er they tread" 
 is closed in death's midnight sleep, your own gentle girl may not 
 be forced to join' the ranks of her down-trodden sisters! 
 Does your mother-heart sicken and turn from the surmise with 
 a shuddering M God forbid !" Listen then : " many of these 
 victims are of gentle birth ; most of them have received good 
 educations ; not a few are daughters of clergymen, Nonconformist 
 ministers, half-pay officers, merchants once in affluence, but 
 suddenly thrown into adversity ; all, in fact, have been brought 
 up in a gentle way, hence little able to cope with authoritative 
 oppression."* Once more I beseech you, by all the most sacred 
 interests of time and eternity, to come to the help of the helpless ! 
 Let your incentives be *the loftiest that can animate human 
 nature founded on the Christ-taught precept, "whatsoever you 
 
 * Lord Shaftesbury. 
 
202 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 would that others should do unto you do ye also unto them.' 
 Let your weapons be baptized in that fair Jordan, the " Love 
 that endureth all things ;" the charity that hopeth all things;" the 
 " Faith that worketh by love," overcoming all obstacles, as seeing 
 him who shed His most precious blood for you ! " Soon shall 
 the warfare cease !" A few, perhaps, to some of us a very few, 
 more rising suns and life's race will be run, its labour cease, for 
 there is " neither work nor device in the grave whither we are 
 hastening." 
 
 u Time, like an ever rolling stream, 
 
 Bears all iis sons away ; 
 They fly, forgotten, as a dream 
 
 Dies at the opening day." 
 
 The God-insulting system of robbing these victims of their 
 only day of rest, the evidence that work was carried on frequently 
 the whole of the Sabbath,* that they slaved eighteen and twenty 
 hours daily, and often the whole night, deeply affected 
 Courtenaye, and he resolved to give no "slumber to his eyes" 
 till he had rescued this " link between the Paradise that is past 
 and that which is to come," from the Maelstrom of business. 
 
 Shame ! shame on a Christian land where this unholy traffic 
 is tolerated ! Shame that God's own Day should be swamped in 
 this " Slough of Despond," and these helpless victims doomed to 
 such foul wrong ! Surely on this day, they might share in the 
 blessings it brings, and be permitted to lave their weary souls 
 in the ocean of eternal love. Surely on this day they might be 
 permitted the luxury of uniting with household ties, and be 
 privileged to drink in one draught of pure air and sunshine 
 ? mid the varied glories of earth's fair face ! 
 
 But no ! there are no glories for them ; they must toil on or 
 starve. The Gold Fever, with its red-hot tongue, is lapping up 
 every rill of creature sympathy, and scorching, with its fiery 
 breath, every blossom of Justice and Mercy. 
 
 The rabid Competition must be maintained, and the thews and 
 sinews, souls and bodies, of women and children must be sacri- 
 ficed to keep its " infernal machine " at full speed ! 
 
 Oh, if it is not the age of Tetzel, when monks played at dice 
 
 * " Work," says one witness, " was carried on till ten and eleven on 
 Sunday morning," and frequently the whole of Sunday.'' — Testimony 
 before the House of Lords, 
 
REVELATIONS. 203 
 
 in taverns for immortal souls," it is the day of Competition, 
 and men play at that, with bodies and souls for dice! If 
 not the day when " Christians were butchered to make a 
 Roman holiday," it is the day when the idol Fashion lifts her 
 brazen trumpet and utters the shrill blast, " come, we will deck 
 ourselves with flowers, and eat and drink, and to-morrow shall 
 be as to-day, and much more abundant." while her votaries stop 
 not to listen to the cry that goes up into the ears of the Lord of 
 Hosts, against her blood-reeking, soul-immolating idolatries from 
 the blind asylums, the hospitals, the penitentiaries, the mad- 
 houses, ay, from the hollow- sounding waves that dash sullenly 
 against the arches of the modern Babylon, as they stifle the 
 death-shriek of unnumbered victims who rush to gilded guilt, 
 thence to despair and self-destruction, from the iron hands of 
 grinding oppression and bitter tyranny ! 
 
 Alas'! 'mid their peals of hollow Mirth, and the rushing of 
 Pleasure's chariot wheels, neither stop these votaries to heed the 
 Voice speaking from Eternity, — 
 
 M Know that for all "these things I will bring thee 
 
 INTO JUDGMENT." 
 
 " One witness stated that they had worked without going to 
 bed, from Thursday morning till half-past ten on Sunday 1 ! " 
 Well may it be said of these white slaves, as it was said of the 
 poor by* the late Lord Mayor, after one of his mercy-visits to 
 their dens of misery, and reiterated by another high-hearted 
 philanthropist, " no" wonder they resort to crime rather than 
 submit to it." f 
 
 Four days' incessant toil ! ! Then, in the middle of God's 
 holy Day, "released for a few grudged hours, the poor victims 
 
 * See D'Aubigne's " Reformation.'* 
 
 f " You see in the good city of London tens of thousands of young and de- 
 licate girls proceeding every morning to their labour, and continu.n^ it long 
 after midnight ; thinly clad, and badly fed, so wretchedly paid as to make 
 vice almost a necessity ! Ay, almost a necessity : for how is food to be 
 obtained, clothing procured, and lodging provided, upoi a pitiful wage of 
 seven shillings, or at most nine shillings, a-week, especially where no time 
 is given for reflection, where social enjoymen f s are forbidden, and where 
 even religious thoughts must be usually excluded ? for the Sabbath must be 
 a day of physical and not of pious rest to the overtaxed body, and 
 the almost abandoned soul! The same cry comes up from all the great 
 towns of the kingdom; from Norwich, Birmingham, Bath, and Man- 
 chester." Mr. S. C. Hall. 
 
204 a life-long stort. 
 
 throw themselves on their hard beds, worn out and nearly blind !* 
 No time for prayer — no time for reading, — souls as well as 
 bodies chained to the gaudy car of the idol Fashion, and after a 
 little fevered sleep, during which the enfranchised spirit flies 
 back to the green fields and glad voices of early days, wearily 
 they wake into the poisonous atmosphere to go over the same 
 ground, — work ! work ! work ! till at length disease does its foul 
 mission, and worn out in the terrible conflict they lay down to 
 die, or " resort to crime rather than submit to it." 
 
 It was indeed no child's play to enrol a sufficient number of 
 earnest, warm-hearted women, as a " working committee," in the 
 association Courtenaye laboured so unweariedly to organise, in a 
 town so divided by sectarianism as D . 
 
 Not only had the ice-fringed veil to be lifted from the brow of 
 society — the slumbering embers of latent humanity to be stirred 
 and fanned into a flame, but the many-sided barricade of bigotry 
 and prejudice had to be rooted up and overturned, and no slender 
 lever could accomplish this, nought but the " Arm that moves 
 the universe." 
 
 Many really kind people who were interested in, and wished 
 success to the movement, hung back because they had heard it 
 called a " sectarian one, " or perhaps more emphatically because it 
 did not spring up in " their Church," and they were afraid of 
 
 * " Before the grave mercifully closes over them, many of them have passed 
 years of suffering:— mutilated, crippled, many of them deprived of sight, and 
 still more of them so weakened in their sight as to be wholly unable to get 
 their living by honest industry ! It is true— as the Bishop of London said — 
 that in cases of private mourning, great demands are made. These extend, 
 however, principally to one or two establishments ; but when there comes 
 — as there occasionally does come— what is ordinarily called a " Court 
 mourning," that presses equally upon all the establishments j then it is that 
 the most frightful results take place; and instance upon instance has 
 occurred in which these young women, during this demand, have been com- 
 pelled to work by candle-light — during the day and the night, to work too 
 — and this is the frightful part of the consideration — not on that which is 
 Decessary to stitch the dress together, that there may be something in the 
 way of wearing apparel, but in embroidering rich flowers upon black 
 ground, merely for the purpose of vain and contemptible decoration— con- 
 temptible,! mean when purchased at such a cost ! And often has it occcurred 
 that in the process of that operation, young women of tender years have been 
 deprived of sight, and have passed the remainder of their days in total 
 blindness." The Earl of Shaftesbury. 
 
1 - 
 
 REVELATIONS. 205 
 
 offending their Popish Rector ; hence, like its sister, the Town 
 Mission, another slip from the same heterodox tree that 
 " Could not die, and shall not be destroyed," 
 
 it had to dispute, step by step, with the mildewed delusions of 
 other times, and stem a torrent of stormy, benighted prejudices 
 that would have overborne any less devoted band than that en- 
 listed under the auspices of the working pastor of Christ's 
 church. 
 
 " There is something in the strife of sectarianism reminding 
 of the dream of the holy martyr John Huss, who saw the powers 
 of the world busily engaged in effacing the image of Jesus 
 from one side of his chapel at Bethlehem, and on the other, 
 angel hands restoring it in more than its original beauty." 
 
 The Prince of this world knows that while the "effacing" goes 
 on precious souls perish, and he supplies the relays of material 
 that nought be lacking on his part, and but for the " angel 
 hands" that come to restore peace* and harmony by pointing to 
 the Bleeding Love that flowed for all, this world would soon 
 become a vast Aceldama. 
 
 Never was the Patriarch's parting injunction to brothers more 
 needful than now, — 
 
 " See that ye fall not out by the way." 
 
206 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Cause am) 6M, 
 
 " Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles ?" 
 
 It is always interesting and .suggestive to observe how circum- 
 stances in themselves so trivial as scarce to wake a ripple on the 
 stream of thought, sometimes bear in them the germ of great 
 events, and how small — called by some — " chance " links, connect 
 the wondrous whole. 
 
 Who does not remember the nursery legends of Mahomet's 
 cobweb, and Bruce's spider ? And what if they were but " old 
 nurse stories ?" they did their work. 
 
 AVhat reader of history has not lingered wonderingly on the 
 simple incident that prevented Cromwell from emigrating, even- 
 after he was on board a ship at Blackwall ? and he was forced 
 back to virtually wear the crown of the unhappy monarch whose 
 intolerant advisers prevented the Iron Man from leaving his 
 country, where he become a wall of fire between Protestantism 
 and Romanism. 
 
 It is equally remarkable to sometimes look under the current 
 of events, and tracing from effect to cause, note how frequently 
 the natural instincts, tastes, turns of mind, and even prejudices 
 or follies (for they are nearly synonymous) of people are over- 
 ruled, and used as instruments for the furtherance of great 
 events, and the promotion of His glory " who wtigheth the dust in 
 a balance." 
 
 It happened — we had almost said "once upon a time," in the 
 dear, old, attention-riveting style of our childhood's days, — just 
 about the period named in our last chapter, the manifest shaking 
 
CAUSE AXD EFFECT. 20/ 
 
 of the dry bones, as the great Love-Spirit blew upon them that 
 
 the town of D boasted of a good many little banks, with 
 
 superfluities of paper, and slight sprinklings of gold, as well as of 
 the banker, par excellence, — a noble-hearted, self-made man, — 
 whohadrisen by a steady course of persevering, honourable industry 
 from clerk to banker, and millionaire to boot, and whose wife, a 
 lady of great influence, a handsome person, unadulterated moral 
 courage, twelve beautiful children, and a patrimony of some ten 
 years younger than her lord, with a fine perception of proprieties 
 managed not only to rule him and her household, but also the 
 bank itself, and strange to say ! she found it easier to rule all 
 these complicated machineries than she did to regulate and 
 govern her own strong will. Had her sphere of action been 
 unlimited, and in proportion to her energy, this self-reliant Mrs. 
 St. George would have been a latter-day Alexander in petticoats, 
 weeping because there was nothing left for her to conquer ; but 
 she spurned, with superb contempt, the homely idea suggested 
 with delicate consideration by her admiring, though somewhat 
 nervous husband, that she may " turn her arms against herself 
 with some advantage." 
 
 Now it also happened, that without consulting her mother — 
 a thing never so much as even dreamed of before in the family, 
 her eldest daughter, a lovely little papa kind of creature had set 
 her affections (as the phrase goes) on the ''nice-looking new 
 
 Curate" recently imported into the town of D , to fill the 
 
 vacuum left by the Rev. Mr. Drone, who having duly served his 
 apprenticeship to the Rector, and thereby become thoroughly 
 initiated into the mysteries of "position and imposition, flexion 
 and genuflexion" had taken an affecting leave of Anglo-Popery, 
 and thrown himself— black curls and all — with the most childish, 
 touching confidence into the outspread arms of mother Rome. 
 
 This important event (by way of digression, which we ear- 
 nestly crave our readers to pardon), would at one time have 
 greatly disturbed the mind of our old, but we hope not forgotten, 
 friend and favourite, Mary, who, while she really had not the 
 slightest partiality for the young man, with her accustomed kind- 
 heartedness, always took his part against those members of his 
 congregation dealing in sundry effete remarks, such as "he 
 really oarried matters a little too far!" when, in humble imitation 
 of his mystifying Rector, he gave out the hymn in Latin, much 
 to the scandal of those who were no " scollards," and the jeopar- 
 
208 A LIFE-LONG STORV. 
 
 dizing their Prayer-Book leaves in the perfect hurricane of turning 
 over and over in the search that ensued ; or " I wonder what 
 mountebank tricks next !" when the said nrysterious-looking 
 Curate having shaved off his " lovely whiskers," made the bare- 
 faced attempt to introduce holy water into the chancel, with 
 sundry other suspicious-looking charlatanisms, too puerile to 
 mention, adding, — 
 
 " He would be a much honester man if he followed the 
 example of other Anglo-Popish shams, and went over to Home 
 at once, instead of doing her work and receiving Protestant 
 pay." 
 
 Perhaps this John Bull remark reached the ears of the Per- 
 vert ; at any rate, to Rome he went and thereby proved his 
 " honesty," if nothing else. 
 
 "We stated, this event at any other time would have distressed 
 Mary ; just then, however, Mr. Drone had given her great cause 
 for offence, by stoutly maintaining, in one of the little arguments 
 in which she delighted to entangle him, a scriptural warrant for 
 the dogma in our common Prayer Book, forbidding Christian 
 burial to unbaptized children, and committing the tiny fragment 
 of immortality, drifted for a moment on Time's shore, to the grave 
 of the suicide and the murderer — thus doctrinally consigning them 
 to eternal " w T eeping and wailing." 
 
 Revolting as this teaching is to the holiest instincts of humanity ; 
 contradicting, as it does, the clearest evidence of Scripture ; im- 
 pugning, as it does, the loftiest attribute in the moral government 
 of the Creator ; be-cloud, as it does, that wondrous Mercy-bow, 
 which beamed, though dimly, through the darkness of sin- 
 blighted Eden, brightened in the Manger, and shone out in full 
 splendour on Calvary's mournful height ; nullify, as it does, that 
 priceless assurance — " the blood of Christ cleanseth from all sin" — 
 hence, as an unavoidable deduction, " original sin," the Curate 
 insisted on maintaining his ground, backing the Prayer Book and 
 the Church against the Bible, which, according to his shewing, 
 was lamentably in the dark on the subject. 
 
 At length, tired of his displays of ancient learning, which she 
 didn't understand, and irreverently doubted if he did, Mary ex- 
 claimed, with her usual common-sense impulsiveness, " But it is 
 a substantiated fact, as you are well aw T are, that half the 4iuman 
 race die in childhood, and only a very small proportion have been 
 baptized. As a teacher sent from God, do you really mean to 
 
CAUSE AND EFFECT. 209 
 
 say you believe what you insist on, and that these souls, sinless as 
 to the act, are eternally lost ? " 
 
 •' The e-x-a-ct meaning of the word b-a-p-t-i-z-e, or b-a-p- 
 t-i-z-i-o in the original," began the Curate, in a pedantic tone and 
 with a mystifying look 
 
 11 Pray ! pray! do not go into another profound depth, where 
 an ignorant girl cannot follow you, but answer my question 
 plainly. Do you believe what you teach as regards infant salva- 
 tion ? " Mary ventured to interrupt. 
 
 Startled from the pedantic narration on the origin of the word 
 b-a-p-t-i-z-i-o he was about to inflict on her unwilling ear ; 
 and, closely pressed by his companion, the young man ex- 
 claimed, — 
 
 " Saved ! saved ! Yes, most likely they are saved, but they 
 are saved without the covenant of grace." * 
 
 "Saved without the covenant of grace! I thought all salvation 
 was of grace," mused Mary ; then smiling a satisfied smile, she 
 replied, — 
 
 " Though I scarce F know why it should do so, your answer 
 brings to mind the reply of my favourite historical character, 
 Jane Grey." 
 
 "What was that?" inquired the Curate, with a sickly smile 
 and a dreamy unconsciousness of manner. 
 
 " Do you not recollect ? When in the futile endeavour to 
 argue or terrify the sweet victim out of her Bible Protestantism, 
 the Pope's factotum was insisting on the dogma of his church, 
 which arrogates the power to create God, (Curate winced) 
 she asked what would become of the mouse that should dare 
 to set its sacriligious teeth into the mvstic wafer ? " 
 
 " What then ? I quite forget the circumstance, and should 
 think it highlv probable it is some story made up by the enemies 
 of the Church of Rome," remarked this very Protestant Curate, 
 with a flushed cheek. 
 
 " I will tell you, if you have forgotten," replied Mary, smiling mis- 
 chievously, as if she looked deeper into the arcana of his mind 
 at the moment than the " Successor" either suspected or wished. 
 The holy Father, thrown off his guard by her majestic calm- 
 
 * Fact ; word for word. How much bnger is this dogma to disgrace the 
 Book of Common Prayer iu Protestant England ? 
 
 p 
 
210 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 ness, and not only irritated by the superior skill she displayed in 
 argument, but astonished at the wondrous ease and self-possession 
 she maintained in the strife of words — now stripping him of his 
 flimsy sophisms — now entangling him in the subtle meshes of his 
 own webs, that losing at once his temper and centre of con- 
 sistency, he angrily shouted in reply, to " what would become of 
 the mouse ?" 
 
 " Why the mouse would be damned 1" 
 
 "Alas, poor mouse !" meekly replied the child-martyr; and 
 thus, continued Mary, I say, Alas ! poor babe ! 
 
 Now because of the unmaternal fact that our venerable Mother, 
 rolling in wealth, permits her hard-working sons to starve 
 genteelly upon pittances which the burly butlers in her 
 Shepherd's palaces would spurn with disdain, the " nice new 
 Curate " was not destined to share in the good fortunes of many 
 of his brother curates, who, with incomes varying from twenty 
 to seventy pounds per annum, had contrived to win at one stroke 
 the affections and fortunes of women in all merely worldly 
 matters, as much above them as " bright particular stars ;" and, 
 malgre the pittance incomes, or the illnatured remarks of their 
 flocks that they followed the a loaves and fishes," or the " ladies 
 took advantage of leap year" — (both reports much too delicate 
 for investigation), — wonderful effects followed these unions, inas- 
 much as some of the "fortunate young men " stepped beyond the 
 mere advance in worldly preferment to the " church patronage in 
 my wife's family," shaping into a snug stall worth a few trifling 
 thousands yearly, and no great " spheres of labour " thereunto 
 attached ; thus demonstrating the melancholy fact, that gifts 
 and graces, in addition to being "moved" to the important 
 office, would never have been appreciated, much less legitimately 
 acknowledged at head quarters, but for the timely intervention of 
 the "patronage in my wife's family;" and so poor Mr. Williams, 
 the " nice new Curate," was sacrificed because of his " pittance 
 pay," his overtures for the hand of the lovely Augusta St. George 
 being courteously, but in her own firm way, rejected by the 
 banker's lady, who had much higher views for her favourite 
 daughter, and looked upon the " excellent young man, with 
 whom, as she told the Rector, she had no fault to find," quite in 
 the light of a third or fourth pis aller for one of her younger 
 daughters, as she "really liked him." And no wonder Mrs. St. 
 
CAUSE AND EFFECT. . 211 
 
 George " really liked him;" no one could help doing that : he 
 was au unartificial, zealous, tlesh-and-blood man, that Curate: none 
 of those awful, unapproachable, mysterious ideals, pendulating be- 
 tween the monkish superstitions, and childish mummeries of the 
 mediaeval ages, and the chance of a golden bishoprick ; none of 
 those nondescript parsons, so Proteus-like in their characters, 
 that when they are in the pulpit, men say they ought never to 
 be out ; and when they are out, men say they ought never to be 
 in it. He was large-hearted enough to express his concurrence 
 in all the various reformatory movements changing the hard 
 features of society at large, and leavening it with the spirit of 
 brotherhood ; nay, he even went so far as to subscribe annually, 
 at the cost of much self-denial, a guinea out of his "pittance" 
 towards the funds of the Town Mission, of whose workings he 
 had been a glad eye-witness, during his novitiate in the east of 
 London, though he had not the moral courage to attend the 
 meetings, because he feared to be " seen exerting himself lest 
 he should give offence to Mr. Anstruther. who highly disap- 
 proved of any movement not in exclusive connection with his 
 church ;" or of any steps taken for the relief of wretchedness and 
 crime, that were not formally stereotyped in the regular eccle- 
 siastical beat. 
 
 Moreover, the warm-hearted curate had been heard to speak in 
 admiration of the devotedness and zeal of Courtenaye, in the 
 contest between the oppressor and the oppressed, — 
 
 M What does it signify who first agitated the movement so that 
 it is in the right direction ? I cannot comprehend why we may 
 not all unite in doing God's work, and leave our differences 
 alone till we get more light to judge by," remarked this simple 
 young man, whose " orthodoxy" must have been in extremest 
 infancy, not having cut its first tooth. 
 
 Every one said he was " a good deal too low for the Hector, and 
 would not remain long if he did not mind his P's and Q's, and 
 keep his liberal sentiments to himself." Sad to say, he was in a 
 measure compelled to do this, from motives only inferior to the 
 duty he owed his Master — his widowed mother regularly receiving 
 from this excellent son half of his pittance of sixty pounds 
 per annum (which sum Mr. Anstruther awarded him for doing 
 nearly all the work, which brought him in seven hundred or 
 thereabout, yearly), and he had, for some time previous, been 
 working for nothing, having had to serve nearly two vears with- 
 
 p 2 
 
212 , A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 out any wages; though a workman every way " worthy of his hire*' 
 — to gain a "title" to minister in holy things, even after being 
 "moved by the Holy Spirit to the office !" 
 
 Thus, poor fellow, it became a serious matter with him to 
 " keep in" with his superior for the sake of an interest, so 
 beautiful and sacred in itself. Oh ! that such should have 
 begotten in his noble heart " the fear of man which bringeth a snare." 
 Some excuse too may be found in his " fear," for in addition to 
 being a fiery Welchman, the Rector was so easily provoked, and 
 so addicted to quarreling, that though he had not obtained the 
 degree of " High Wrangler" at college, he certainly had earned 
 and worn the honour in the home department. 
 
 As we stated, the proposals for the hand of the lovely Augusta 
 St. George were rejected, with a courtesy below zero, by the 
 managing committee of the banker's family, included in the sole 
 person of his portly wife ; and, a short time subsequently, an 
 aristocratically connected, but not wealthy, Baronet made propo- 
 sals, which were graciously received, and warmly advocated by the 
 said committee : and with so much finesse did she play her cards, 
 taking care hearts should never turn up trumps — that in three 
 months after her rejection of the " nice young Curate," — spite of 
 the pale cheek of her child, spite of the altered looks of the 
 former— ay, and will it be credited? spite of sundry sharp 
 twinges in and about conscience, " her daughter," as the news- 
 papers said, " became the happy bride of Sir Charles Wilbraham 
 Yane," whose character may be summed up in the words of 
 Cicero, " his instructors were indeed to be envied, who at such 
 considerable expense had made him so foolish." 
 
 We must not forget to state, that he was also M.P., by virtue 
 of hereditary parliamentary influence in the Yane family. 
 
 Now, though correctly speaking, Mrs. St. George could not be 
 said to belong, in toto, to that common species of verdant nature — 
 the parasite plant — she was a good deal too self-reliant for that, 
 nevertheless in fellowship with many of the " stronger sex/ she 
 entertained a sort of pleasant hankering for titles and rank, 
 clinging with tolerable tenacity to the precedence awarded her in 
 
 the town of D , as great, great grand-daughter to a knight 
 
 on the maternal side ; but she had abundance of that "last in- 
 firmity of noble minds, Ambition," and could take in at a glance, 
 the various complicated and delicate machinery, by which her in- 
 tluence and power would be extended, through an occasional 
 
CAUSE -VXD EFFECT. 21o 
 
 reierence to "my daugker Lady Vane, or my son-in-law's uncle 
 Lord Speedaway." 
 
 It had long been a matter of regret to her, that family 
 arms were not hereditary on the female side. Soon after 
 their marriage, at her suggestion, her husband had applied at the 
 Herald's Oifice for the family bearings of the " St. George's,*' not 
 entertaining in her own mind the slightest doubt but thev were 
 in some mysterious way connected with the Dragon and Patron 
 Saint of Old England ; and great was her disappointment to find, 
 that while the St. George' pedigree could be traced directly up to 
 that relieving officer for distressed families in search of gentilitv, 
 the Norman Freebooter, they were simply, — 
 
 Arms — Ar. on a bend wavy between live crowns. gu. three- 
 half crowns. 
 
 Crest — Two hands erased issuing from clouds ppr. dexter 
 holding key or. sinister globe vert. 
 
 Mono — " U argent fait tout." 
 
 Supporters — Dexter, chest or. sinister, chest wings endorsed. 
 
 Still Mrs. St. George well knew that if she could have traced 
 an unbroken descent from either Shem, Ham, or Japheth, and 
 have quartered on her carriage, in the shape of arms, le^s, and 
 pettitoes, all the hieroglyphics of heraldry, the simple coronet 
 (she had her eye upon one of Cicero's lords tor her second lovely 
 daughter, entre nam) would outvie them all ; every one knew 
 what that meant, and very few understood, or cared about 
 the other, beyond its " or." and " car" ; hence she valued all such 
 affairs just as far as they furthered her ambitious projects, and 
 no farther ; she was keen, and far seeing — " cute*' as Jonathan 
 would say ; she knew pretty well that even more than in the 
 days of the Wise King, " money answereth ael things," and a 
 cloth of gold covereth a good many sins ; what then would not a 
 title do in addition ! 
 
 Having obtained her wish, as regards her daughter, it infused 
 a stimulus into her exertions, 'till "Mrs. St. George does this, or 
 that,' "Mrs. St. George says so and so," became almost 
 "household words" in the town where her wealth and moral 
 courage had long procured her considerable influence. Indeed to 
 such mastery had she brought the latter, that if any one, 
 particularly her modest husband, had hinted at the improbability 
 of her accomplishing it, she would have set about the discovery of 
 perpetual motion, squaring the circle, or making two parallel lines 
 
214 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 meet in the centre, with a cool confidence in her success, that 
 would have delighted the fastest Prime Minister ; and yet, will 
 it he believed among her own sex? she had not the fortitude to 
 dare be getting old, or to allow such an outre idea to be recognized 
 in her extensive circle ! 
 
 The poor young wife, feeling that neither husband, rank, nor 
 Stansfleld Park could fill the place in her heart, from whence 
 Love had been so hastily driven, sought for some object to gather 
 into its desolate enclosure, and monopolize its unsatisfied af- 
 fections and yearnings ; hence when two ladies of the committee 
 called to enlist her influence in furtherance of the object they 
 hoped to accomplish, viz : the relief of the oppressed milliners 
 and dressmakers, they found her not only willing, but anxious to 
 play a part in so sacred an undertaking ; and in the course 
 of conversation — pointing to one of Courtenaye's sermons that 
 lay on a rich marquetrie table, she remarked, — 
 
 " Those were the means of my conversion. I never felt 
 the luxury of doing good 'till I learnt it there." 
 
 Ah ! title sacrificed one ! Little did she imagine that the 
 withering of her gourd was the " thorny road" leading her from 
 earth to heaven ! Yet such it was. 
 
 From the circumstance of her being one of the committee, 
 she was brought in contact with the hard working pastor, whose 
 earnest, unwearied exertions delighted and stimulated her, 
 while his faithful teaching poured balm into her wounded heart ; 
 and greatly to the annoyance of the Anglo-Popish " Rector, and 
 his wife, (who in addition to meriting the degree of second in 
 command " High Wrangler," was ever armed cap-a-pee, to enter 
 the lists at a moment's notice, 
 
 " And prove her doctrine orthodox, 
 By apostolic blows and knocks)," 
 
 the startling hatchment-environed pew of the "long line of 
 Vane's," was unceremoniously deserted for the humble one at 
 Courtenaye's church, not only by its elegant and unhappy 
 mistress, but also by the younger branches of the St. George's 
 family ; which heterodoxy gave such grave offence to the 
 worthy pair, that the foam of the " orthodox" breakers abso- 
 lutely rolled over the breakwater of good-manners, and the 
 lady meeting the decided Mrs. St. George at a dinner party, so 
 far forgot at once her courtesy and Christianity, as to ask — 
 " How Lady Vane's methodist mania prospered? "sneeringly 
 
CAUSE AND EFFECT. 215 
 
 adding, she " hoped she would not convert all her charming 
 sisters f " 
 
 Much "put out" by this unprovoked attack on her gentle 
 child, whose happiness she felt she had failed in securing, Mrs. 
 St. George replied almost up to summer heat, she "only hoped 
 to see all her daughters as good and consistent as Lady Vane 
 had become since she had attended Mr. Courtenaye's ministry, 
 and left Mr. Anstruther's church!" 
 
 Here was an out-letting of water ! not only her husband's 
 teaching covertly impugned, that she could have borne 
 with the meekness of a wounded dove, but her "church," 
 disparaged ! Oh ! that was the " unkindest cut of all !" and too 
 indignant, as well as too politic to make any reply, she contented 
 herself with looking a galvanic shock of pity at the ignorance of 
 her offending neighbour, which shock she took care not to feel, 
 busily employing her vision in examining some rare exotics that 
 flourished in an epergne decking the centre of the table ; but she 
 took care not to be too unobservant, and soon discovered, like an 
 amateur Delilah, where Samson's strength lay, and resolved to 
 use it accordingly ; mentally vowing there and then, l< never to 
 darken the doors of Mr. Anstruther's church again ! " 
 
216 A LIFE-LOXG STORY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 gtore Imping anb Drcaeljiug, aub L gtore Cause aub <£M. 
 
 " If the trumpet give an uncertain sound, who shall prepare himself to the 
 battle ?" 
 
 With some shew of justice our fair reader may accuse us of 
 entering too minutely into the character and teaching of the 
 
 Rector of D ; but as he is a representative man of a large 
 
 family not yet quite extinct, and as we regard our said reader as 
 a thinking responsible agent, not a mere scene-hunting, dressing, 
 rapid fashionist, we earnestly beg a careful perusal of the few 
 pages devoted to the portraiture. 
 
 Considered by some people "sound," and "moved" rather 
 late in life, by a noble Duke with a few dozens of livings in his 
 gift, to fly through the good town of D with the u ever- 
 lasting Gospel," — forgetting, if he had ever heard the grand remark 
 of Archbishop Usher, "it requires all our learning to preach 
 plain to dying men," or the inspired avowal of the Apostle, — 
 
 "I thank my God, I speak with tongues more than you all, yet in 
 the church I had rather speak Jive words with my understanding, that 
 by my voice I might edify others, than ten thousand in an unknown 
 tongue, — " 
 
 the Rector not only flew over the heads and hearts of his 
 congregation, but often into the clouds altogether out of sight, 
 neither enlightening the former, or lighting upon the latter. 
 
 He had a not uncommon way of taking the majestic and eternal 
 simplicities of the Gospel, which inspiration has declared "so 
 plain that a way-faring man, though a fool, shall not err therein" 
 
MORE PREACHING, ETC. 217 
 
 and after winnowing them through sundry sieves manufactured 
 from dogmatical abstractions and dim perceptions of past ages, 
 he would throw over them a hazy web of his own weaving, partly 
 from the said perceptions, partly from subtle essences of obscure 
 creeds, which may mean anything or nothing, that as the text 
 stood before his hearers thus draped and ''darkened by the light 
 of excessive learning,"— between which and piety he had long 
 repealed the union, the more educated of his flock were ready to 
 ask, with sneering Pilate, " What is truth ? " the less learned 
 thought " the Rector a powerful clever man, they hadn't the pre- 
 sumption to understand him," while those who were hungering for 
 the " Bread of Life," left the " gate of heaven,"* which was painted 
 in curious blue and red letters over the entrance of the church 
 to enter into some more macadamised road, and sought to satisfy 
 their souls' cravings at any place of worship where they could 
 feed on the ''children's bread" unadulterated with the chaff of 
 benighted creeds, and unmixed with the bitter tares of contro- 
 versy ; in short, rejoiced to take refuge in the teaching of any 
 pastor, by whatsoever name known among men, who left 
 untouched their early child-like faith in the Word of Life, which 
 they thought, simple souls! led them nearer to the " gate of 
 heaven" than all the wonderful learning of their Rector, with 
 Fathers and Commentators to boot. 
 
 Whoever was, certainly he was not the spiritual Sibyl to 
 decipher the mystic characters on the tablet of their unsatisfied 
 hearts ! 
 
 He never dealt with the solemn and paramount concerns of 
 eternity, or with " those unfathomed and abiding emotions of their 
 nature* shrining deep instincts written by the finger of God on 
 the soul never to be utterly divorced from it," hence his flock 
 were starving in the midst of plenty — dying of atrophy — 
 wasting their spiritual solids ; and yet this man would have 
 carried on " war to the knife" to prove his direct Apostolic 
 descent, and went on with his effete sermons, well satisfied that 
 he was in " the narrow road," no matter whether his flock were, 
 
 * After lecturing his flock for frequently preferring a simple, earnest, 
 gospel ministry found in a village near the "sphere of his own labours" 
 within the heterodox walls of a chapel, the writer heard this model Rector 
 use the following arguments one Sabbath morning:— *' This church has 
 been repaired and beautified, as you well know, and you can walk to it, 
 amid the graves of your forefathers ; beside which, have you not the most 
 beautiful liturgy in the world V 
 
18 A LIFE-LONG STOET. 
 
 or were not — shouting over every action, however pure, disin- 
 terested, and holy in its object and end that did not spring out of 
 his church, the ancient and hollow shibboleth, — 
 
 " The temple of the Lord are we." "Great is Diana of the 
 Ephesians." 
 
 Tis passing sweet to fall back on the sublime and simple teach- 
 ing of " Him who spake as never man spake," finding its pre- 
 cious truths just as they were in the days of our first love ! 
 The soul's hidden springs are touched, and rivers of joy flow 
 out, sweeping away the " refuge of lies," dispelling our mo- 
 mentary doubts, and clearing the mist from Faith's vision ! 
 
 Oh, that teaching ! It " fills the hunsrv soul with pood 
 things," 
 
 " And brings our old simplicity again." 
 
 Oh, for a revival of Gospel preaching ! Preaching like glorious 
 old Baxter, as " dying man to dying men!" 
 
 Preaching — not with every human sympathy lulled to repose 
 by nasal intonations, in the arms of a cold, mechanical super- 
 stitious mystified theology, ornamented with a semi-Popish, 
 semi- Jewish ritual, bat preaching with every sympathy in action 
 — the heart of love, the tongue of fire — on the mountain, in the 
 valley, — beseeching men, as of a common brotherhood encircled 
 by the wondrous sympathy of their dying, risen Lord, — 
 
 " To BE RECONCILED TO GOD." 
 
 Instead of " forgetting the sermon, before we recover our 
 faith," we feel somewhat like the kingly old Dreamer, — 
 
 " A little from heaven is better than a good deal from man : 
 what is from man, is often tumbled over and Over ; things that we 
 receive from God's hand, come to us as things from the minting- 
 house : old truths are always new to us, if they come with the 
 smell of heaven upon them." 
 
 " The smell of heaven upon them." How quaint ! How 
 like the sweet thoughts of the Tinker's poet-heart ? 
 
 But little, we grieve to say, of this "smell of heaven" was to 
 be found in our Rector's teaching; the " Rose of Sharon" and 
 the " Lily of the Valley" never perfumed the theological stubble 
 he presented to his flock ! 
 
 The thrilling story of the Cross never melted the hearts, 
 soothed the griefs, or spoke peace to the repentant sinner among 
 his listeners ; indeed he openly confessed that he did not " see 
 
MORE PREACHING, ETC. 
 
 219 
 
 the necessity of holding up the Cross in these days, as some 
 fanatic though perhaps well-meaning men constantly do." 
 
 This mvsterv of Eternity — " God manifest in the flesh"— he 
 does not see the "necessity" of "holding up," as an incentive to 
 a life of puritv and holiness. 
 
 He has no sympathy with the Angelic Hosts in their intense 
 desire to look into this " mystery," as they bend their eager gaze 
 earthward, waving their snowy wings, while bright and clear in the 
 blue ether that canopied Bethlehem's manger gushed out their 
 soft love-song : — 
 
 "Peace on Earth — good-will to man!" 
 
 He has no sympathy with them, as they follow step by step, 
 the mercy-dropping p'ath of the Man of Sorrows, wondering 
 " where all this love and grief will end !" 
 
 He has no sympathy with them as they surround the solemn 
 heights of Calvary, and veil their faces in their wings as the 
 Victor Victim bows his weary head, and — 
 
 " It IS FINISHED," 
 
 rolls over the quaking, sun-deserted, but redeemed earth ! 
 
 He has no sympathy with them, as they catch up the glory, - 
 words, passing them on and on through all the shining ranks and 
 golden streets of the City of God, while the spirits of " the just 
 made perfect" cast their blood-bought crowns before the Throne, 
 and the burst of the majestic anthem, — 
 
 " Worthy the Lamb that was slain ! " 
 shakes its jewelled foundations ! 
 
 He has no sympathy as the echo floats downwards, pealing 
 through the dark caverns of hell, while its great red eye is shut 
 in despair, and all its arches are hung in black ! 
 
 He has no sympathy with them as they watch at the door of the 
 Sepulchre, where reposed in Death's icy arms the (< Lord and 
 Giver of Life? till commissioned to "roll away the stone," they 
 form a glittering escort to attend the Conqueror on his triumphant 
 homeward march, clapping their snowy wings exultingly, and 
 shouting as they went up through the sky, — 
 " " Lift up your heads, ye eternal gates, and let the 
 King of Glory in S " 
 
 No ! our Rector has no sympathy with these glories, and 
 though he lives in the noon-tide blaze of the "day" that the "Father 
 of the Faithful" saw, though afar off and shadowy, and "was glad," 
 — the " day" that Kings and Prophets desired with yearning to 
 
220 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 see, all this is nothing to him ! He is is gone far beyond these be- 
 nighted angels, and kings, and prophets ! He smiles at the sim- 
 plicity of the earnest Paul, who " counted all things but druss, so 
 that he may proclaim Jesus Christ, and Him crucified." 
 
 u Ceasing not for the space of three years in his own hired house, 
 to warn men day and night, even with tears, to be reconciled to God" 
 and is thankful he is "no such enthusiast!" Tears, indeed! no 
 doubt this kind of thing was all very well in that state of society, 
 it did well enough in those dark ages ; but now, in these days of 
 enlightenment, and in this age of " Fathers," and " Canons," and 
 " Creeds," it wouldn't do for a moment ! " That's where St. Paul 
 and I differ," are his sentiments. 
 
 Moreover, though our Rector has solemnly vowed himself, in 
 the face li of God and this congregation, to be moved by the 
 Holy Spirit" to his sacred office, he sees no glory in the Cross. 
 
 The Name that fills all heaven with music is never his theme. 
 
 He never felt an answering echo in his heart to the expiring 
 cry, amid the flames of the martyr-pyre, — 
 
 M None but Christ ! None but Christ ! " — 
 and he preaches anything but this — now his Church, then his 
 creed, anon himself; — but never Salvation by " the only name 
 given under Heaven, whereby man can be saved." 
 
 What wonder, then, at the miserable soul- dwarfing that fol- 
 lowed his ministrations ! 
 
 Oh, this pushing aside God's way to make room for man's 
 teaching ! What unto shall we liken a Ministry without the 
 Atonement ? 
 
 It is a Corpse holding in its hand a lamp whose rays serve but 
 to reveal its own decay. 
 
 But, however untoward in itself was the little fracas recorded 
 in the last chapter, viz., the unprovoked attack on the banker's 
 lady, its results were singularly beneficial to the furtherance of 
 the great work in which Courtenaye so incessantly laboured. 
 
 The ladies' committee at this time numbered several of the 
 
 principal families in the tcwn of D , from the different 
 
 denominations of Christians who wished well to this excellent 
 reformatory movement, and who bound themselves strictly to 
 adhere to certain rules, that, after much prayerful study, had 
 been framed by the young pastor, and unanimously agreed to ; 
 
MORE PREACHING, ETC. 221 
 
 but want of space forbids our reverting to more than the mere 
 outlines of the machinery- set in motion. 
 
 Though ''shy" at first, many husbands and brothers, regard- 
 ing the project as one from which their sympathies were excluded, 
 held aloof; but by and by the enthusiasm became contagious, 
 and one after another, the gallant and the true-hearted found 
 themselves helping-on the fast-widening, deepening stream of 
 compassion flowing towards the white slave in the orthodox 
 town of D . 
 
 A French writer wittily says, ' ; that when a man has toiled 
 step by step up a flight of stairs, he is sure to rind a woman at 
 the top." 
 
 This may be but an outbreak of the gay Frenchman's con- 
 stitutional gallantry ; still, daily experience demonstrates that 
 woman often accomplishes while man abandons his projects in 
 despair : their untiring patience, and passive endurance (we don't 
 of course deal now, with the exceptions, of whom the indefati- 
 gable Mrs. St. George was one) under trials and difficulties, ot 
 which men comparatively know nothing, may form the suostratum 
 on which they arrive at the top of the stairs first ; and if 'tis only 
 a myth that the wise Socrates was taught eloquence by Aspasia, 
 there may a good deal of sober, matter of fact truth so poetically 
 shadowed forth in the Iliad, where the Titan son of Jupiter, 
 that " lame Architect"' is represented as being given the " silver 
 footed dame" with 
 
 11 Voice, and sense and science given 
 Of works divine," — 
 
 and by whose aid (for notwithstanding her peerless beautv, and 
 " sense and science" she seems to have taken the degree of u High 
 Wrangler," and was constantly nagging at her sceptered lord) 
 no doubt his graceful perception, of u works divine" was in- 
 fused into his " hairy breast" and " brawny arm," and dis- 
 played in the starry crown of Ariadne, and the unique necklace of 
 Hermione, even if she had nothing to do with the brazen puppy, 
 or woman of clay, rife with fire the Promethean pilfered, to his 
 shame be it spoken ! and while our modern Vulcaus are readv to 
 accord to our modern Venus's the gift of voice so liberally that 
 a woman's tongue is almost a by-word and reproach, they 
 should not grudge them the balance of power that was bestowed 
 with it, — 
 
 *' Sense and science of wor*s divine." 
 
222 A LIFE- LONG STORY. 
 
 No doubt the poor lame Architect often found his peerless 
 wife the " greatest plague in life," but then, she had her redeem- 
 ing qualities, and lie was obliged to bear with her, for the 
 wiser Jupiter had paired them. 
 
 Now the premised crusade against inhumanity was, or ought 
 to have been, pre-eminently woman's; and unless she exerted all 
 her energies and interest in remedying an evil she had fostered, 
 victory would never crown the struggles of Right versus Wrong. 
 
 In the great " modern Babylon," many right thinking men 
 who had thrown their talents and influence into the " move," 
 and who had engraved on their hearts " no surrender," had 
 failed in arousing, to any extent, a sense of responsibility, or a 
 thrill of humanity in the breasts of those of whom a distinguished 
 writer once said, in reference to Hindoo human sacrifices, — 
 
 " There can scarcely be a misery connected with human 
 existence, that the piety and the zeal of British women, under 
 the blessing of God, is not able to remove ; and if this dreadful 
 state of things be felt, as it should be, in every town and city 
 of the United Kingdom, these immolations would soon cease." 
 
 Noble testimony ! and so if these wrongs done to their sisters 
 were felt as they ought to be throughout the land, the emanci- 
 pation of the white slave would be a victory worthy to stand 
 beside those glorious conquests that hallow 'the memory of a 
 Wilberforce, a Clarkson, a Howard, — a victory reserved for the 
 Women of England ! 
 
 It is but common justice to say, whatever might have been 
 the under current or primary cause that agitated the surface of 
 society, the exertions and conduct of the ladies in the town of 
 
 D were beyond all praise ; those who recognized in the 
 
 " move," the hand of Him who " ivent about doing good" were as a 
 matter of course in it ; and many who never viewed it in this 
 sacred light, and who acted from inferior but still lovely motives — 
 sympathy for sorrowing humanity, — hesitated not to make 
 sacrifices of Self that proved the ' true woman-heart still beating 
 under tinsel, and gaud, and fashion. 
 
 We here furnish an outline of the Rules on which the com- 
 mittee determined to act, craving forbearance for their paucity, as 
 we quote from memory : — 
 
 First. That the town of D be divided into districts, and that 
 
j&BX PREACHING, ETC. " 223 
 
 each lady of the committee shall have one district assigned to 
 her to canvass, for the purpose of soliciting every householder 
 therein, of whatsoever grade, to pledge themselves to abide by 
 the rules of the said Committee.* 
 
 Second. Never to give orders for any dress, cloak, bonnet, or 
 garment whatsoever, without allowing sufficient reasonable time 
 for its completion. 
 
 Thus rendering unnecessary the slave-market system of 
 wringing from the sinews of the helpless victims, an amount 
 of work that would occupy as many days as they were given 
 hours to complete it in, simply because the wearer " must have it 
 home immediately" to display at the next ball, or flower-show, 
 or fete, which she has known for weeks would come off at a 
 certain time, but held back from giving her orders 'till the last 
 moment possible, lest her costume should be one shade less 
 fashionable in texture or "cut," than her neighbour's or friend's, 
 never deigning to think at what a cost her momentary and 
 small-hearted gratification was purchased. 
 
 Third. Never to permit any dress, bonnet, cloak, or garment 
 whatsoever, to be brought home from any milliner's or shop of 
 any kind, after seven o'clock in the evening, or on Saturdays, 
 after two o'clock in the afternoon. 
 
 Thereby ensuring to England's white slave, not only the 
 blessing of a half-holiday, but the free untrammeled Sabbath ; 
 man's and woman's unalienable birth-right, which they hold direct 
 from the God of the Sabbath, and 
 
 " W03 to their kindred, and woe to their cause, ' 
 when they shall surrender their birthright ! 
 
 Fourth. Never to shop themselves, nor permit any member 
 of their household to do so, after seven in the evening. 
 
 Thereby ensuring to white slaves of both sexes, the free use of 
 their limbs in the fresh pure air, so imperatively necessary 
 for healthy functions of the human frame, and for the cultivation 
 of mental capabilities and home sympathies. 
 
 Fifth. Never themselves to purchase, or allow to be purchased 
 by their households, any articles whatsoever, at establishments 
 whose principals refused to comply with the requirements of the 
 
 * Difficulties are not impossibilities, and what has been may be. Every 
 woman in England " whose heart is in the right place" may become the 
 nucleus for uprooting this crying sin, and in one year the evil would be 
 among the things that flourished in the dark a<?es. 
 
224 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 committee; and that such names be published, to prevent the 
 friends of the anti-slavery movement encouraging, by their 
 patronage, the abominable existing system. 
 
 Like all human compilations, undoubtedly these Rules were not 
 infallible, but an impartial judgment should be given of them by 
 their beneficial working, of which more remains to be said ; while 
 we beg respectfully to remind our reader, that 'tis not the 
 machinery, however perfect it may be, that does the work. 
 
 The initiatory efforts of Mrs. Leslie, and a friend, were very 
 discouraging, as they encountered a virulent rebuff from no less a 
 personage than Mrs. Johns, the principal of one of the largest, if 
 not the largest, millinery and dressmaking [establishment in 
 
 the town of D , who, secure in the custom of fashionable 
 
 patrons, and in her orthodox religious views (for she was 
 a professing woman, that Mrs. Johns, and regularly " attended 
 the table,") absolutely refused to listen to any proposals, or sub- 
 mit to any interference whatever, either for the sake of justice or 
 humanity, remaining firm against entreaties or arguments, as the 
 Great Wall of China. 
 
 " Cast down but not destroyed," the two ministers of mercy 
 departed, and as soon as they were out of hearing, the Lady- 
 principal commmenced a sort of jerking apostrophe, — 
 
 " Rights and feelings ! What rights and feelings belong to these 
 creatures I should just like to know ! arn't they lorn to work ? 
 what else do I feed and pay them for, I should just like to know ? 
 
 Rights and feelings ! the lazy, tiresome baggages ! half their 
 time asleep over their work ! 
 
 " Like to catch myself letting 'em out at seven to beat the streets ! 
 No, no ! Mrs. Leslie ! These fine ideas about feelings, and 
 rights, and nonsense, may suit your religion, but I am thankful 
 to say they dont mine, nor never will while my name is Johns !" 
 and with a significant toss of her well-arranged head, she swept 
 into the workroom, looking daggers at the ghostly girls augment- 
 ing her gold, and declared, in a voice apparently well understood 
 by her slaves, that " Miss Fitzjames's three dresses should be 
 finished and sent home that night, before one of the 'prentices 
 stept her foot outside of the doors !" 
 
 Hopeless looks, expressive of loathed submission, were ex- 
 changed by the cowering sempstresses as their tyrant swept out 
 of the room, seeming; to convev the idea, that her law was like 
 that of Dariu 
 
MORE PREACHING, ETC. 225 
 
 But the day that frowned so unpropitiously on earnest 
 Mrs. Leslie and her friend, smiled ^on the efforts of Mrs. 
 St. George and Mrs. Smythe Hope ; they assailed the proprietress 
 of the French millinery and dressmaking establishment, whose 
 rivalry with " Madame Johns had long been a matter of agree- 
 able dispute between their respective admirers and patrons, in 
 proportion as they each hated "everything English," or couldn't 
 " endure that flippant Mam'selle." 
 
 As soon as Mrs. St. George had stated the object of her visit, 
 which she did with an off-hand eloquence and ready argument 
 really most admirable, the little Frenchwoman, with the in- 
 stinctive tact of her nation, foreseeing, from the energy and talent 
 engaged in the movement it was likely to become popular, 
 determined to coquet and temporize with it, and therebv gain 
 time to watch the signs of the struggle, and fall into that side 
 which proved to be strongest. To this end, without appearing to 
 do so, she artfully contrived to draw from her loquacious visitor 
 all the knowledge she possessed on the subject, as well as the 
 names of those engaged to support the move, assuming to be 
 much struck with the idea and interested in it, promising to 
 " tink well de matter over before Madame did her de honor to 
 call again." By some of those hidden and singular agencies, 
 through which people's affairs get talked over, albeit, each 
 listener has been told the circumstance as a "great secret," the 
 same day, the little Frenchwoman scented that her rival had 
 positively refused to have "anything to do with the matter;" 
 which at once determined her to fall into the plan, and thus 
 increase at one stroke her popularity and her trade by securing 
 the undivided patronage of the influential names before referred 
 to on Mrs. St. George's list. 
 
 There was another gratification, too, last and not least to be en- 
 sured, viz., a triumph over Mrs. Johns to whom she owed several 
 business-grudges for real or imaginary injuries received ; not the 
 most trifling of which was her arrogating to herself the title of "Ma- 
 dame," instead of plain "Mrs.," on her perfumed, highly-enameled 
 cards. Indeed, at times — such as Spring and Autumn — after the 
 return of each party "from Paris" (they said, but they never got 
 further, en route, than London), so fierce did the stream of 
 contention roll between them, that it would not have been difficult 
 to realise the assumption of some old feuds, ripe with the 
 memories of Poictiers or Agincourt smouldering in their national 
 
226 * LIFE-LONG STORT. 
 
 i 
 
 breasts ; just as if there was not plenty of room in this great 
 world for French and English people too to live and let live. 
 
 Now Mrs. St George, \aving a large family of very expensive 
 " girls," and an incalculable number of friends, set her heart upon 
 usino- all the influence these facts vested her with, in an endeavour 
 to enrol the two great rival houses as trophies of her successful 
 diplomacy, and this not only from a real love to the cause she 
 had undertaken, but from a* certain naughty gratification of spleen 
 she intended to wreck on Mrs. Anstruther for the unprovoked 
 insult she had received from the tongue of that lady at the dinner 
 party before alluded to, the remembrance of which had rankled 
 in her heart, and she had soliloquised herself into the belief 
 that her dignity called on her to evince an utter disregard of the 
 opinion or wishes of one "who could so far forget herself as to 
 presume to dictate to her daughter where she was to go to 
 church." 
 
 The Rector's lady— looking upon the whole affair as a " decided 
 low church movement," and moreover fully believing " from the 
 nature of the case that all this enthusiasm and fanaticism would 
 cool down, and render its advocates the laughing-stock of the 
 wise and prudent,"— not only firmly resisted the many attempts 
 made by the members of her own church to interest her on the 
 side of the "right and true" (a circumstance much to be 
 desired, because, whether for good or evil, a minister's wife is a 
 potent influence), but was unsparing and open in her censure of 
 those who did, and perhaps her opprobriums were not the less 
 loud and angry because she felt sure that any cause advocated 
 con amore by the active and powerful Mrs. St. George, was sure 
 to leave the opposition in a minority ; and while she had not 
 the remotest intention of coming to " daggers drawn" with her 
 potent neighbour, whose carriage was the softest, whose dinners 
 were the most recherche, and whose purse was in no danger of 
 dying of a consumption, she claimed the privilege of animad- 
 verting ad libitum on her and the rest of her acquaintances, 
 who presumed to follow the dictates of their own consciences 
 in the important matter of worship. 
 
 From an excellent rule of dividing her patronage, Mrs. St. 
 George had no small amount of influence with the magnates of 
 these rival houses. Ma'mselle Josephine Marie Delille supplying, 
 at the trifling expenditure of about two thousand per annum, the 
 multifarious items (including the almost microscopical fabrics then 
 
MORE PREACHING. ETC. 227 
 
 called bonnets) which made up the milliner}- account against 
 Banker's lady and her "large, very expensive family of girls ; " 
 while Madame Johns furnished the more weighty articles, such 
 
 as robes, shawls, etc., at an average outlay of we are 
 
 almost afraid to put the sum on paper, and indeed Ave have no 
 right to name it, seeing the Banker, though by far the most 
 interested of the party, knew nothing about it, and the Bauk 
 itself had a great deal to do with it. 
 
 " Refuse to entertain any ideas on the subject, does she, my 
 dear Mrs. Leslie ? "Well, well ! we shall soon see ! Leave her 
 to me, if any one can bring her to reason, and manage her, [ 
 can ! " and the self-reliant Mrs. St. George slightly elevated her 
 stately head, as a confident, diplomatic-looking smile stole over 
 her face : — 
 
 ,: I will take her off your hands," she added; and, concurrent 
 with her determination, her handsome carriage rolls towards 
 Madame Johns, deposits its active mistress and departs, thereby 
 intimating that her stay would not be a " transient one," but 
 like Venus when she paid a visit to Sappho at her " lodgings," 
 'twas to be " long and confiding," a circumstance Madame Dacier 
 considered something " very prettv." 
 
 Qy. Did Madame Johns think the same after Mrs. St. George 
 had commenced her attack ? 
 
 Perhaps she thought her more like Cacus, the terrible son of 
 the " lame Architect," who, we are told, breathed nothing but 
 flame ! 
 
 Some writer shrewdly observes : — 
 
 •• A man who is furnished with arguments from the Mint will 
 convince his antagonist much sooner than one who draws from 
 reason or philosophy : gold is a wonderful clearer of the under- 
 standing; it dissipates every doubt; accommodates itself to the 
 meanest understanding ; silences the loud and clamorous ; and 
 brings over the most obstinate and inflexible !" 
 
 Perhaps Mrs. St. George had an eye to this sentiment, and it 
 produced in her nund those sanguine convictions as to the result 
 of her persuasive powers on Madame Johns, when other applicants 
 for mercy's sake had failed. Perhaps, too. it is scarcely fair to 
 enter into a detail of circumstances that produced this conviction, 
 as it is expressly a " business transaction ;" and yet it may serve 
 to illustrate the trite remark prefacing a former chapter, and as she 
 has told her herself twenty times, whenever she has plunged 
 

 228 A LIFE-LONG STOKT. 
 
 deeper into the banking concerns than sat easily even on her 
 elastic and easily-pacified conscience, u it is really no harm," why 
 should we think otherwise? Surely she must know her own 
 affairs best, and every one is aware, who looks round with eyes 
 open, that there must be a good many " wheels within wheels" 
 going to make up a circle in such odd days of display, rivalry, 
 and fashion as those we are describing. 
 
 Not that had no such " wheels" ever turned, our self-de- 
 pendent friend would have been daunted by the difficulties that 
 menaced her in her attack on her milliner's slave-trade. No 
 trifling droppings, even though they heralded a thunderbolt, 
 could have done that ! 
 
 At the close of an unusually brilliant season, which had 
 compassed many bridal, and more funeral orders, beside balls, 
 private theatricals, and frivolities unknown, Madame Johns had 
 the exquisite gratification of placing a snug sum in the bank; 
 an achievement she had driven, and scolded, and killed in the 
 work-room to accomplish — panting for the moment when she 
 would be able to roll the sweet morsel " my banker" off her 
 tongue — give a cheque now and then where she knew it would 
 " tell," and her eredit would rise considerably therefrom ; but 
 as this pleasant mode of elevating herself in the eyes of the 
 uninitiated could not hold out with the constant drain occasioned 
 bv the long credit system, she determined to make a bold 
 stroke, ere the last plank of her temporary altitude, which had 
 long been an inclined plane, down which she was sliding with 
 no pleasant emotion, gave way. She therefore contrived by the 
 most obsequious flattery, nourishing statements, and professions 
 of eternal gratitude, to represent to Mrs. St. George " what a 
 mutual accommodation" would result if she would use her in- 
 fluence, and allow her cheques to be honoured ad libitum — 
 balancing accounts at the end of the year through the easy chan- 
 nel of the millinery department : and as the lady — flattered by 
 Madame's artful, and evident acknowledgement of her powers 
 (for she was not insensible to the syren voice — even though the 
 uttering lips were mean, and would by no means have been satis- 
 fied with Plato's four kinds of flattery), saw nothing in this 
 proposal but a fair and honourable accommodation, she at once 
 consented to it. 
 
 Most fortunately for the cause just now so near the banker's 
 lady's heart, — though in the same inverse proportion, rual apropos 
 
jiORE PREACHING, ETC. 229 
 
 for Madame Johns, the latter had through the negociation just 
 named, drawn a large sum to liquidate the cost of a plate-glass 
 front, for which she had long sighed in secret, of such startling 
 dimensions that it promised to stand suhstitute for the "appalling 
 sacrifices" that annually decorated the old one ; and moreover 
 threatened to out-do, in quantity, if not in quality, the fanciful 
 and elegant " Magasin des Modes" of Mademoiselle Delille. 
 
 In furious scarlet and ultra marine, " the force of taste " 
 could go no farther in the embellishment of the good woman's 
 shop ; and though she had decided on gothic letters in which 
 to convey to her patrons an idea of the extent and variety of 
 her show-rooms, she found it less easy to re-baptize the same 
 shop in its improved and remodelled state. She turned over in 
 her mind " Emporium," " Establishment," but they were " too 
 common :" she had gone far beyond them. She liked 
 '* Magasin " amazingly, but she scorned to take pattern by 
 that " contemptible little French minx," not having learnt the 
 noble sentiment, — 
 
 " ' lis wise to learn, even of an enemy." 
 
 Thev were not the days of " Symposiums," u Aqua-scutems," 
 * Sponsalias," " Towers of Babel,'" u Multum in Parvos," etc., 
 hut the inkling for fine names in ancient, dead, and living 
 languages had just begun to show itself; added to a foreshadow- 
 ing of the violation of those wholesome and safe rules laid down 
 with such perspecuity by Sir R. Phillips, in his " Plain Instruc- 
 tions for Young Tradesmen," which ultimately threatened, in the 
 extravagant rivalry it produced, to realize the old idea of " all 
 outside show," and to have caused the worthy propounder thereof 
 to " turn in his grave," if such could possibly be. 
 
 Having, as already stated, promoted herself from the old 
 English " Mrs." to "Madame/' why or wherefore nobody knew, 
 she sighed to distinguished her house by something " quite out 
 of the common way," in the shape of a name ; unfortunately 
 she didn't dabble in Greek and Latin, and her knowledge of 
 French was none of the profoundest. She was, therefore, thrown 
 entirely on her own resources for the same, which at last came 
 to her relief ; and one morning her admiring neighbours looked 
 out upon the very racy announcement that Madame Johns had 
 reopened — 
 
 "The Fish with glittering tails," 
 

 230 A LIFE-LONG STORT. 
 
 st groaning under the richest products of the four quarters of 
 the world, to which she " warmly invited her patrons of the 
 nobility and gentry to feast their sensibilities on the display. (!/' 
 
 How this very unique baptism came to pass is as follows : — 
 
 In her school-days Madame was marvellously fond of learning 
 rhymes, or sentences with hard names in them, and she liked 
 them all the better because she didn't understand them ; just 
 as the old woman who exclaimed, on comiBg out of church, 
 ; ' What a beautiful sermon! that blessed word, Messopotamy, 
 it did come back so often !" 
 
 Thus, the little maid would repeat her acquirements with a 
 pompous gravity to her honest country parents, who looked upon 
 '•' our Mariar," as quite a wonder of the world in a small way — a 
 sort of " Infant Sapphire." 
 
 Now it chanced that in "our Mariar's" spelling-book, those 
 well-known signs of the Zodiac "done into rhyme," existed, and 
 were admirably adapted to her peculiar idiosyncracy ; hence she 
 committed them to memory, and would not only frequently 
 fascinate the worthy couple by repeating them, but absolutely go 
 to sleep in her little patchwork-covered bed, saving them over 
 and over again, as some little mother-taught ones do, — 
 
 " See the kind Shepherd." 
 
 While " Madame's" mind was in a tornado of inquietude, and 
 uncertaiutv as to the startling name she yearned to bestow on 
 her shop, she had occasion to have recourse to the old spelling 
 book to " find out how a word was spelt," when lo and behold ! 
 the said book " opened of itself in the well-thumbed page of 
 the favourite lines of her childhood, which piles of rubbish had 
 almost buried in the grave of her memory ; and, from habit, she 
 at once commenced the familiar jingle, 
 
 " The Ram, the Bull, the heavenly Twins." 
 
 She had no sooner pronounced the last words, "heavenly 
 Twins," than some most mischievous mental Puck whispered, 
 " wouldn't that be a lovely name for the shop ?" 
 
 She caught at the idea as " quite a providential discovery," — 
 looked at it in all its varied bearings and aspects with a most critical 
 and connoisseur^ eye. " Do ? to be sure it would ! It was 
 just the very thing !" The heavenly Twins should be engraved 
 on her cards as Fashion and Economy, in the most romantic 
 
■ 
 
 MORE PREACHING, ETC. 
 
 231 
 
 and inviting style, all in red, and purple and gold ; and she would 
 have it over the door, too ! 
 
 " Oh ! what a triumph over that contemptible little French 
 interloper !" 
 
 Madame paused suddenly in the midst of her upward flight, 
 as if idea-struck — a cloud seemed to come down upon the bright 
 picture. 
 
 " After all, she didn't quiteMke the word " heavenly V Wouldn't 
 a certain party in the town— fond of talking about that kind of 
 thins imagine she was toadying them, and wished to curry favour 
 bv paying them a compliment ? Perish the thought ! But 
 could 'she not substitute some other word for "heavenly?" 
 Wouldn't " sky-blue," " celestial," " azure," be ? as well ? No ! 
 So on she goes—" something else may turn up." 
 
 " And next the Crab, the Lion shines, 
 The Virgin and the Scales." 
 
 " The Virgin and the Scales '."—Would thai do ? It would form 
 a very classic group. The Scales could be Fashion and Eco- 
 nomy, and the Virgin — Taste. 
 
 It* would look uncommonly imposing, too! But (Ah! those 
 
 " buts" and its "%they are among^life's little chasteners)— 
 wouldn't she run the risk of offending all her mother customers, 
 who paid by far the best, if she bestowed the palm of " taste" 
 exclusively on their daughters — a good many of whom she knew 
 didn't dare to be better" looking, certainly not younger looking, 
 than themselves. 
 
 Beside— wouldn't the Rector think her very profane if she took 
 any liberties with the name of Virgin ! wouldn't he feel hurt, too. 
 if she didn't consult him ? What will the world say ?" 
 
 The idea is abandoned, and on she goes — 
 
 " The Scorpion, Archer, and Sea Goat, 
 The Man that holds the -watering pot." 
 
 (" Whatever could they have put him up in the constellations 
 for ? One of the greatest plagues of her life— always throwing 
 the water over the nice clean brass letters, and windows, from 
 holding the pot so high, though she has told him of it dozens of 
 
 times .") 
 
 " The Fish with gli'tering tails." 
 
 Poor Madame was in a quandary : evidently she differed in 
 
232 A LIFE-LONG STORT. 
 
 opinion from our great Dramatist when asking "What's in a 
 name?" and seemed to know the modern value of fine sounds as 
 well as most people, — 
 
 Why wouldn't this last do 1 She could have a beautiful, 
 fashionable-looking mermaid painted with two " tails " instead 
 of one, all glittering with spangles, and embroidery, to imitate 
 the real tails or skirts of the ladies' dresses, and thrown out with 
 steel, and cane, and crinoline no end ! 
 
 Oh ! that's it at last ! That will do ! It will neither be 
 toadying the canting party — nor wounding the vanity of her 
 Ma customers, or paining the feelings of the sensitive Rector. 
 
 That will do ! So, fortunately for the artist, she sketched her 
 own design, # and forthwith came — 
 
 " The Fish with glittekixg tails," 
 
 and while no living or deceased naturalist could have recognised 
 the idea of an animal, even though well acquainted with the for- 
 mula of all the pre-adamite or post-deluvian creatures (Icthyo- 
 saurus included) that ever flew through the air or swam in the 
 sea, Madame considered she had achieved a threefold triumph 
 over invention, art, and the " contemptible little French Mam- 
 selle ! " • 
 
 The facts relative to the u mutual accommodation" between 
 the two aspiring ladies were something substantial for Mrs. St. 
 George to go upon, and it was perfectly refreshing to see the 
 bright smile that overspread the somewhat angular proportions 
 of Madame's face, as the superb carriage of the female banker 
 drove up to the startling plate glass. She always kept a relay of 
 these April smiles ready-made for her carriage customers, and on 
 this occasion she came forward — absolutely came forward — to 
 meet her patroness and best customer, a stretch of courtesy she 
 so rarely displayed, — never to walking ladies,- — that it betokened 
 great deference and profound respect, to say nothing of the extra 
 hyper-smile power she put on for the occasion, little dreaming of 
 the attack meditated upon her free-will by the magnificent look- 
 ing being on whom she showered both smiles and civilities. 
 
 As a legitimate conclusion to which she had arrived by a train 
 of subtle and logical reasoning, arguing from cause to effect in 
 true forensic style, Mrs. St. George felt perfectly confident of 
 victory. She therefore opened her subject with a bold confi- 
 dence, born of the said conclusion, that perfectly paralysed 
 
■I 
 
 MOKE PREACHING, ETC. 233 ** 
 
 Madame for a moment, as she saw her citadel in danger of being 
 carried by a single coup de main; as, however, the former con- 
 tined in the same bold, dashing strain, she secured breathing 
 time, and determined to " have a struggle for it." 
 
 It would be useless to follow in the wake of all the pros and 
 cons that issued from each party in the gentle strife. 
 
 Like a true orator, the advocate of Right never lost sight of 
 her subject. She put it in a most masterly manner through all 
 its varied ramifications and bearings, moods and tenses, thereby 
 hoping to move the better part of her antagonist by an appeal to 
 the higher instincts of human nature ere she descended to use tne 
 power she knew she possessed. The great cause in which she 
 was embarked cast a reflex splendour over her little follies and 
 weaknesses that almost extinguished them, and she never shone 
 brighter than at the moment when, with flushed cheek and 
 beaming eye, she pleaded for the oppressed of her own sex. 
 
 But the more Mrs. St. George expatiated and expounded, the 
 more Madame didn't comprehend ; she seemed suddenly innocu- 
 lated with a wonderful talent for misunderstanding, till at length 
 worn-out by her dogged determination not to be convinced, as 
 well as by a display of contradiction quite new to her, her power- 
 ful antagonist delicately hinted at " closing accounts before the 
 ensuing- vear commenced." 
 
 Taken aback, as she saw her concerns — startling plate glass 
 window and all — caught in the golden meshes of her best patron's 
 web, and tenderly alive to the conviction that her custom involved 
 a sum " not to be sneezed at," Madame rallied the smiles that 
 had taken flight all at once, like a covey of birds at the report of 
 a double-barrel, protested she had never given the subject a 
 " serious " thought ; Mrs. St. George had " certainly put it in a 
 very different light from Mrs. Leslie ; " she would turn it over in 
 her mind, and no doubt be able to fall in with the " enlightened 
 and humane views," of which such a powerful exponent stood 
 before her. She therefore attended her most obsequiously to the 
 entrance of the "Fish with glittering tails," and in a few 
 nroments, fast as the sinews of her horses could carry her, the 
 potent lady was winging her way, flushed with victory, to another 
 refractory subject. 
 
 Many were the writhings and tossing3 that agitated Madame's 
 frame ere she could bring herself to " give in." How would 
 her guilty gains be curtailed ! 
 
234 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 How would her slave trade, just now so intensely thriving, be 
 cut short! 
 
 What should she do with the soiled and damaged goods, out of 
 which she reaped such an abundant harvest by gas-light, and no 
 one would buy in day-light if she closed at seven ! 
 
 True, if she persisted in her non-compliance, her custom was 
 imperiled. She would have to swim against a marvellous strong 
 current ; but had she " not a right to do as she liked ? " " What 
 had people to do with her business ways, she should like to know ! 
 She would soon let them see, or her name wasn't Johns ! " 
 
 Poor woman ! her mind w T as quite a commercial Acteus de- 
 voured by its own dogs^; and to such a boiling pitch had she 
 stirred up her wrath, by adding such fuel to fuel as the above 
 " reasoning" that it is more than likely she would there and then 
 have sent in her non-acquiescence, but that the memory flashed 
 across her of certain hints thrown cut by Mrs. St George in the 
 course of her oration, tc the cfFect that " Mademoiselle Delille 
 had promised to be guided by the wishes of the committee, which 
 would of course greatly increase the number of her patrons, 
 almost all the families of any real importance in the town having 
 advocated the good cause." 
 
 What w^as she to do? Let her rival triumph? Never-' 
 Never ! Brutus' spectre at Pharsalia was a toy to this ! 
 
 She is in a terrible strait — a small Scylla and Charybdis. 
 
 Her gains (that is, certain kind of gains, the nature of which 
 she could best appreciate) put an end to ! 
 
 And then — her new plate glass window, which she intended to 
 " get out of the next year's St. George's millinery account ! " 
 Oh ! 'twas too much ! 
 
 Tears of rage and disappointment took the place of those 
 recent smiles : still they had a good effect on the inner man ; 
 she can look coolly on both sides of the question, now her anger 
 has subsided, and, with the feeling of an " injured angel," she 
 sends in her resignation to the will of her best customer, Mrs. 
 St. George. 
 
 Here it is well to remark, that all the likely-to-be refractory 
 portion of the trade community were given in charge to the most 
 influential canvassers ; no doubt the committee was moved to 
 this arrangement by witnessing — and who has not done so on 
 similar occasions ? — the magic effect of the key of gold. 
 
MORE PREACHING, ETC. 235 
 
 There were many in the town of D . 
 
 feared there are but too many like them elsewhere, who laid down 
 their opposing arms in the selfish fear of losing custom, who 
 would have strode with stone-like indifference through a whole 
 file of pale, hollow-eyed diseased young creatures, while wringing 
 from their toil-worn fingers the metal at whose shrine every 
 feeling of common humanity is blunted ; every instinct that 
 elevates man above the brute creation is sacrificed ; every sense 
 of right and wrong is prostrated ; every fear of God — insulted 
 through his broken laws and mocked by a profession of His re- 
 ligion — is hushed. 
 
 It will not, however, be imagined that an evil which seemed 
 entwined with the fibres, and incorporated with the very being of 
 the body commercial, could be out-rooted at one stroke, however 
 powerful the arm that dealt it. " The great and crying sin of 
 denying to the working classes feelings and sympathies and 
 rights in common with all God's rational creatures, has produced 
 the tendency in all ages, and in all states of society to look upon 
 them as mere instruments and machines for the creation of 
 luxury and wealth ; " but a better day has dawned, destined 
 to go down no more. 
 
 Our committee had the satisfaction of seeing, at the end of one 
 year, their humanizing rules reduced to practice by almost the 
 entire trade population in the town, who were considered respect- 
 able enough to exert auy influence ; those few who had deter- 
 mined to hold out, with a sort of dogged, ultra, hyper-radical 
 spirit — resolved " to do what they like with their own," — seeing 
 their trade falling off, their shops being deserted by their better 
 and richer customers, at length gave in, without even the plausi- 
 bility of some of their brother traders, who made a "virtue of 
 necessity." 
 
 There was in our committee this sterling feature : its sympathies 
 were not spasmodic. " He who says ' enough,' is lost," observes 
 Augustine, and it would not rest in HALF-measures ; there was 
 no truckling to expediency ; the principle they warred against 
 was wrong ; God said so : God's men said so ; hence their un- 
 flinching determination to fight to the last in the defence of the 
 eternal truth, that man has no right to oppress his fellow. 
 
 Though often buffeted and hardly set on by the Hydra- 
 headed opposition that met him at his outset, Cuurtenaye was not 
 disheartened, and he rose fresh from any apparent triumph over 
 
236 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 him with invigorated energy. Having intensely and prayerfully 
 studied the subject in all its complicated and manifold aspects 
 — deeply anxious not to fall into the error of " staining one 
 duty with the blood of another," while striving to fuse the cold 
 iron of political economy with the fine gold of humanity, he 
 sought to secure the interest of the employer as well as the 
 rights of the employed, each being dependant one on the 
 other. This desirable, and certainly indispensable result he 
 argued must follow, if unanimity among the former could be 
 effected ; he forsaw that the issue of the proposed measures 
 would lead to a steady, firm increase, instead of diminish in 
 capital ; but it was no easy work to infuse this belief into a 
 body of money-getting men, who looked upon the movement as 
 involving and infringing on their born right to do wrong. 
 
 It would be beyond the limits of a tale like this, to follow the 
 devoted Pastor through the process of calculation, from which he 
 so clearly deduced this desirable result : it will be more to the 
 purpose to state the encouraging facts themselves. 
 
 At the end of two years from the commencement of their 
 labours, voluntary statements were made to the committee by 
 those enlightened principals of the different houses of business 
 who had entered into, and carefully carried out their huma- 
 nizing rules, that so far from trade having declined, capital 
 diminished, or labour suffered, they found themselves in all 
 respects in a better position under the new, than under the old 
 system, having a greater amount of work more cheerfully and 
 solicitously executed — the idea of repose and respite from toil 
 at the close of the day, and the prospect of a half-holiday at the 
 week's end, infusing into the labourers an inspiriting energy, and 
 an active healthy industry, not in any way likely to flag by 
 reflection on the gratitude they owed, and the requital they were 
 bound to render to their master, who by this act of justice and 
 brotherhood, had identified his interests with theirs, in a bond no 
 English or any other national Legree&w ever yet attained 
 unto.* 
 
 * See testimonies to tlrs effect borne by S ; r M. Peto, Messrs. Price, 
 Cookson, Shoolbre 1, and other distinguished philanthropists, to be obtained 
 at the Early Closing Office, 15, Ludgatc-hi 1, London. 
 
READY"? 237 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 ' God'a eye seeth every precious thing." 
 
 Job, xxviii. 10. 
 
 " Has Stephenson been into papa's room ?" was the questior 
 that sprung involuntarily to Mary's lips, as her maid entered he 
 chamber, on the morning following the foreshadowings related ii 
 chapter eighteen. 
 
 " No ma'am, the doctor ordered him not to come 'till half-an 
 hour later than usual, as he said he wasn't quite well," was th 
 reply. 
 
 Mary was dressed and leaving the room, when she heard her 
 own name uttered in a quick, agitated voice by the doctor' i 
 servant ; and, with a terrible feeling of indefinable apprehension, 
 she was in the act of flying to her father, when she met the 
 domestic's look of horror, as he pointed to his master's room, his 
 stiff lips refusing to give utterance to the intelligence she sub- 
 sequently learnt, that he had found him quite dead, when he went 
 to call him half-an-hour later than usual ! 
 
 Alone, in the solemn stillness of the night-hour, the strong 
 man met and grappled with the grim Foe, but was worsted ! 
 
 Whether in the second or third watch no record remains : 
 whether at the eleventh hour, when the waves and billows were 
 passing over his soul, like Peter beginning to sink, he cried out 
 " Lord save me ! and immediately J esus stretched forth his hand," no 
 voice may tell ; or, whether when standing shivering on the 
 crumbling precipice of Time, with the uni'athomed ocean of 
 Eternity outstretched all terrible and dark before him, he 
 gathered his robe of orthodoxy round him, and took the tremen- 
 
238 A LIFE LONG STORY. 
 
 dous leap — whether, as the receding shore gave way under 
 his shrinking feet, he clutched, with the energy'of despair, at the 
 loose rocks of his self-righteousness, or the rootless bushes of his 
 morality to save him, and found them "broken reeds" that 
 pierced through his soul — none may tell ; he past silently 
 away with his intentions for "to-morrow" all unfulfilled, and who 
 may count the cost ? 
 
 Alas ! for that phantom ship u to-morrow," with its argosy of 
 hopes and intentions never to be havened ! Alas ! for that 
 shadowy Phcenix rising from its own ashes, and flapping its 
 misty wings over the grave of high resolves, and bright aspi- 
 rations ; — 
 
 " Be wise to-day." 
 
 We learn the lesson in every sighing breeze that whirls 
 the seared leaf to the ground, in every receding wave that 
 leaves the pebbles dry ; dirged in the moaning grass over the early 
 grave, distilled in the fading twilight, and the autumn glory, — 
 
 "Be wise to-day." 
 
 The sudden death of Dr. Grenville was soon extensively 
 known ; no lack of kind enquiries, nor scarcity of notes of con- 
 dolence, nor want of sympathy for the young mistress of the 
 mansion, as Mary was believed to be ; but nought from him 
 whose slightest token of remembrance would have been more 
 precious than aught on earth. Oh, how alone she felt ! 
 Her friend and counseller, Julia, in Scotland ; between her brother 
 and herself no sympathy of thought or consonance of feeling ; 
 no kind breast whereon to lay her throbbing temples, and weep 
 her load of agony away. 
 
 How she yearned and yearned, poor smitten child! She has 
 not yet listened to that invitation and promise of matchless 
 tenderness — 
 
 " Come unto me all ye that labour, and are heavy laden, and I 
 will give you rest" 
 
 Deeper, sterner is the crushing of her being from contrast 
 with that dazzling dream of bliss, which so suddenly and meteor- 
 like lighted up its whole horizon, and as quickly past away 
 leaving ten-fold darkness for the momentary brilliancy; just as 
 the mirage-led traveller thirsts all the intenser at the quenching 
 of the delusive hope that nerved him on. 
 
 " Oh, my dear, dear father ! " she exclaimed in a burst of 
 
READY ? 233 
 
 uncontrolable anguish, " why did you leave your broken 
 hearted child alone in this bleak world ?" 
 
 " Why did vou not take her with you ? all, all gone ! leave 
 
 me not too — my God ! my God ! — and falling on the senseless clay 
 
 it seemed as if death was indeed about to take her into his 
 
 icy arms so terrible was the faint that seized her. 
 
 "Gently removing: the sorrowing girl from the dead body of her 
 father, the sympathizing domestics conveyed her into her own 
 room, and she slowly recovered to find her burning brow pillowed 
 oil the bosom of Mrs. Leslie ; this true-hearted friend having 
 left Scotland immediately on receiving intelligence of her favou- 
 rite's bereavement, and travelled with the greatest speed, to 
 minister comfort ; and how gently and judiciously did she pour 
 into her willing ear the lessons of the great Sympathizer ! How 
 tenderly into the ground broken up by the ploughshare of 
 bereavement did she hopefully scatter the seed of Eternal life. 
 
 Precious is the whisper of affection, mingling with the wail of 
 sorrow, like a seraph's song 'mid the lash and howl of the storm ! 
 
 Precious is the murmur of a friendly voice, when death has 
 dimmed the firmament of earth, and the soul's eye cannot pierce 
 through the storm-clouds, to the everlasting light beyond ! 
 
 Dear reader, hast thou a friend ? Poor indeed is the heart 
 which owns not the God-given treasure — much " fine gold" may 
 not purchase it, for the "price is above rubies." Ah, cherish thy 
 friend ! Let not whispering lips poison thy truth, or rear a 
 barrier of cold suspicion concerning the faith thou hast tried and 
 not " found wanting." Has the faithful one clung closer when 
 the waves beat pitilessly against thy straining bark ? Hast thou 
 listed to the loving song, — 
 
 I have thee in my heart, when lone and low. 
 Thy young bead bows beneath its weight of woe, 
 
 and wilt thou cast the treasure from thee ! 
 Nay, nay ! cleave to the tried breast, and — 
 
 " Still believe the story false 
 That ought not to be true." 
 
 Very deeply did Mary feel the kindness of Julia, who at much 
 personal sacrifice had returned to D ■, and she wept un- 
 restrainedly on her breast, as her heart thrilled gratefully at 
 words of sympathy and counsel, nerving her to rouse and grapple 
 with the stern life realities that demanded attention, and the 
 
240 A LIFE-LONG STORT. 
 
 many sad duties devolving on her. She must order and wear the 
 garb of woe ; and never was it more faithfully emblemed than 
 when it draped the elegant form of the orphan girl. 
 
 Not that she had ransacked the milliner's brain, and maga- 
 zines, and shops, to enable herself to mourn fashionably and be- 
 comingly ; she felt that in the heart where true grief keeps vigil 
 there is no room for the tyrant Fashion, with her sensibility- 
 deadening brood, to enter. 
 
 The name of Courtenaye had never been spoken by either: 
 Mary tremblingly hoped that her friend would break the silence 
 that sealed her lips, while the latter thought it better to wait for 
 the confidence she felt would not be long withheld. 
 
 Contrary to the wishes of her fashionable brother, she resolved 
 to pay the last sad tribute of love and respect to the remains of 
 her beloved father, by accompanying them to their last resting- 
 place ; and leaning like a bent lily on his arm, she stood beside 
 the " narrow house appointed for all living," where those dear 
 remains were soon to rest in that mysterious sleep from which 
 nought but the last trump shall rouse them. 
 
 As the bearers carried the coffin towards the vault, one of them 
 stumbling, fell forward, and but for the strong hand of J. Gren- 
 ville, who, being near, caught him, the man would have been 
 precipitated into the open earth. The suddenness of the action 
 startled Mary from her reverie of sorrow, and with a faint shriek 
 she was in the act of darting after her brother, in the bewilder- 
 ment of the moment scarcely knowing what she did, when a 
 firm — but, oh, how gentle an arm, restrained her ! and she felt 
 that he was beside her, though no whispered word broke the 
 solemn stillness in that conflicting moment. 
 
 When her brother returned she was as tenderly relinquished 
 to his care, and her supporter dropped behind, but she knew in 
 her heart that her beloved was near her, and even from that 
 "broken cistern" she drank a draught to nerve her for the 
 closing scene, and the smothered agony she endured as " Dust to 
 dust" fell witheringly on her ear. 
 
 Many hours passed after her return ere Mary could admit 
 even such a friend as Julia into the sacred ground of her sorrow, 
 or she could command herself sufficiently to enter into the deso- 
 late room where so late her father sat in health and strength. 
 
READY? 241 
 
 When at length she sought her friend, she glanced with an in- 
 voluntary shudder towards his well-known chair, almost expect- 
 ing to see him and meet his smile, as of old ; so like a dream she 
 could not realise did the events of those few dark days seem; and 
 deeply did she feel the thoughtfulness that suggested to Mrs. 
 Leslie a re-arrangement of the mute but eloquent furniture, so 
 that the " vacant place" was less observable ; and as she entered, 
 she rose and put her arm tenderly through that of the trembling 
 girl, and in the gentlest manner led her to the spot from which 
 she had at first shrunk in agony. 
 
 "We often meet with the sentiment of sympathy and feeling 
 where neither exist in reality : both should be measured by the 
 extent of the sacrifices of self that are made in the trifling events 
 that make up every-day life. Few are called to do great things 
 in the world's acceptation of the term ; but the heart that is 
 loyal in the lesser — in ; ' the small, sweet courtesies of life," as 
 Sterne aptly calls them — may be safely trusted for all times and 
 seasons. Put it into the furnace of bereavement or poverty, and 
 like that of the blessed old martyr, it will come out entire from 
 the flames. 
 
 Mary could not speak, she only convulsively pressed the kind 
 hand that clasped hers, clinging to it with a touching sadness 
 that wrung her friend; and, at length, in the hope of rousing her 
 from the settled gloom that seemed to overpower her, Mrs. Leslie 
 suddenly, but softly remarked, — 
 
 " Poor Courtenaye has sent twice to enquire for you my love : 
 he returned home this morning; have you no message foi him ? " 
 Mary started, and replied in a low desponding tone, — 
 "What message can I have for him?" but the ice was 
 broken, the flood-gates of pent-up feeling beaten down, and 'mid 
 many tears out-srushed the confidence so Ions: stru^lins; for 
 utterance. 
 
 Much surprised and pained was Mrs. Leslie : she at once saw 
 that by some unseen fatality a mistake had arisen, teeming with 
 such trying results to her favourite ; and not doubting for a mo- 
 ment, but that under any circumstances Courtenaye would have 
 written, and had done so, she endeavoured to inspire the heart of 
 the dejected girl with her own sanguine hopes that all would be 
 satisfactorily explained, and not a shadow of blame rest on the 
 conduct of her beloved. 
 
 Mrs. Leslie was risht in her suggestions : on Courtenave's 
 
 R 
 
242 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 return from his unpropitious visit to Dr. Grenville, as before 
 recorded, he found a summons, hastening him with all pos- 
 sible speed to his father, who had been so severely injured from 
 a fall, as he was stepping into his carriage, that his life was in im- 
 minent clanger ; and hastily penning a few explanatory lines to 
 Mary, which he concluded with, "let us cherish hope that all 
 will yet be well, my darling ; we shall have nought to fear, if we roll 
 the future into the hands of Him who has loved us with an ever- 
 lasting love," he left D . 
 
 The bearer of this note was accidentally met, as he entered the 
 gate leading to the house, by John Grenville, who took it, 
 remarking, as he did so, — 
 
 rt Miss Grenville is not at home, my good fellow, I will give the 
 note to her when she returns," and putting it into his pocket he 
 entirely forgot the circumstance. 
 
 Arrived at Exborough, Courtenaye found his father's danger 
 had not been exaggerated, but he recognized his son, and could 
 not bear him to be absent from his side, even for needful rest. 
 
 Four days and nights did he minister, and watch, and pray ; 
 but at the end of that time he was borne away insensible ; a cold 
 caught while traveling, and neglected (oh, those wholesale 
 slayers, neglected colds ! ) had induced an attack of inflammation 
 on the chest, to subdue which such severe measures were resorted 
 to, that consequent weakness threatened to destroy the precious life 
 disease had spared. 
 
 Surprised and anxious at receiving no reply from Mary, and 
 pondering sadly on the probability that her father had forbidden 
 anv communication between them,— to which cause he attributed 
 her silence, — prostrate in body, and hope-blighted within, never 
 did he rest more unreservedly on the promise of the weary one's 
 Friend, — 
 
 " Cast thy burden upon me, and I will sustain thee ;" 
 and never did he realise so entirely its faithfulness. He was 
 rapidly gaining strength, when the melancholy intelligence of the 
 sudden death of Mary's father reached him. Intensely shocked, 
 and anxious for her he so deeply loved, he wrote to Mrs. Leslie ; 
 but his letter, being addressed to Scotland, was returned, and 
 cnly reached her on the morning of the funeral, when she [did 
 not think it well to speak of his illness to Mary, and thereby add 
 to her load of anxiety. 
 
 The improved state of his father's health gave hopes of a 
 
READY? 243 
 
 speedy restoration, and as his son's stay was ne longer necessary, 
 
 he took a tender leave, and returned to D , arriving in the 
 
 town at the very moment when the knell commenced its solemn 
 toll for the man who had dealt so hard by him. But did Courte- 
 nave think of this as his heart thrilled to the core at every stroke 
 of "the bell ? 
 
 Oh, no ! fervently and incessantly had he borne the hard man 
 on that heart at the mercy seat, wafting on the pinions of prayer 
 the name of rfis enemv, — and who may tell the effect of that 
 wrestling with infinite Mercy ! 
 
 '•' Men may live fools, bat fools they cannot die ;" 
 
 and if the first act of the startled soul, as the grim eye of Death 
 stared out upon it, was to cast itself naked, helpless, and sinking 
 on the Saviour of the "lost," might there not, at the eleventh 
 hour, have been mercy, " even for the rebellious ?" 
 
 •'Who can deal with the mvsteries of a passing soul, but its 
 Maker'." 
 
 Does not the cry still echo over the sin-groaning earth, — 
 "Behold, now u the accepted time .'"' 
 
 " Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right V 9 
 
 Such thoughts swept through the mind of the young soldier 
 of the Cross, blending sadly the past, present, and future ; and 
 hastening forward, he reached the old church, where the doctor's 
 vault lay, just as the sable train gained the gates of the grave- 
 yard, — reposing in its still instructive beauty, beneath the golden 
 eye of the young Spring sun. 
 
 Here was the wee grave with its u daisy quilt," which had cast 
 such dark shadows over the household mirth, when its little 
 inmate spread its glad wing to jt)in the dazzling throng, and learn 
 to lisp — 
 
 <; The blessed speech of Heaven." 
 
 Here was the lone resting place of the tender and the true — 
 the mother who, when she went home to God, left in heart and 
 at hearth, a vacant place that nought on earth may fill. 
 
 Here was the rest of the aged pilgrim, whose cheerful greeting 
 and kindly smile will long linger on the memory of joyous sunny 
 youth ; 
 
 Here was the narrow home of the strong and brave, cut down in 
 life's flush and pride, over whom the widow's heart has broke, 
 and l ' brokenly lives on !" 
 
 B 2 
 
2±± A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 Here was the vault of the rich and the noble, over whose silent 
 dust the marble weeps in " frozen poetry !'' 
 
 Here was the last home of the pauper — whom, perchance, 
 " nobody knew," — for whom perchance "nobody cared !" 
 
 Death is a marvellous leveler ! No conventional distinctions 
 here! 
 
 " The rich and poor meet together,'' waiting the moment 
 when "the harvest of the earth shall he ripe, and the great reaping 
 Angel shall put in his sickle, and all things shaft be revealed ! 
 Who can, untouched, contemplate such a scene ? 
 
 Yonder mark where the hand of sorrowing love has planted 
 flowers over the precious one that slumbers beneath ! Listen ! 
 the spring-bird is caroling its glad song, but they sleep on all 
 unheeding. 
 
 Oh ! what memories gather and cluster round the heart, shaking 
 its inmost depths asa " reed is shaken by the wind ! " 
 
 Does the worm indeed " feed sweetly" on the cheek that 
 nestled in our bosom ! 
 
 Is " corruption the sister" of the form that walked in bright- 
 ness, shedding sunshine on our souls ! 
 Are they cold and dead ! 
 
 " / heard a voice from heaven, saying unto me : " 
 " That wMch thou sowest, is not quickened, except it die: " 
 u We shall not all sleep, but ice shall cdl be changed : ,f 
 " The mortal shall put on immortality, then shall be brought to 
 pass, the saying that is written," — 
 
 i; Death is swallowed up in victory." 
 Meditating thus with thought's subtle swiftness, Courtenaye 
 started, and involuntarily moved towards the procession, as with 
 mingled surprise and pleasure he* saw the elegant form of Mary 
 closely veiled, descend from a carriage, leaning on her brother's 
 arm ; but he checked the momentary impulse, desiring not she 
 should recognize him at that solemn moment. In following the 
 remains of her father he had gratified an instinctive feeling of respect 
 to the departed, and of sympathy towards her, which he well 
 knew she would understand, however others may not ; for though 
 perhaps few men ever lived more entirely in an atmosphere 
 beyond all the petty scandal and back-biting that agitated the 
 
 town of D , Courtenaye valued to their full extent the 
 
 opinions of all Christian people, studying to "give no offence that 
 the ministry be not blamed." 
 
KEADY? 245 
 
 Worn out with anxiety and fatigue he returned to his house, 
 his love all deepened by the thought of that dear one's grief; he 
 longed to pour out his heart's sympathy, but alas ! it could not 
 be ; and not knowing that Mrs. Leslie was with Mary, he passed 
 through a sea of conflicting emotion. 
 
 u How should he act I Oh, for a mutual friend ! " 
 
 Once, as for a brief blessed moment, his arm supported her near 
 the grave, he fancied 'twas tremulously pressed, but he could not 
 build hope on so frail, yet so passing sweet a fancy. The moments 
 deepened into hours, the hours seemed growing into ages, and 
 still he sat leaning his fevered brow on his hand, striving to hush 
 the inexorable beatings of his heart, and insensible to the thought 
 of all save her sufferings so tenfold dearer had those trials made 
 her. 
 
 A few hours had thus slowly passed when he received a note 
 from Mrs. Leslie, who had heard of his return, telling him that 
 i: Mary was bearing up under the blow as well as could reasonably 
 be hoped, and bidding him trust to her friendly offices to do all 
 she could for the happiness of both." 
 
 This communication restored Courtenaye to his almost lost 
 hopes, and though still yearniug to whisper words of sympathy 
 and hope, he schooled himself into patience, resting on the 
 graceful sympathies of Julia, who he well knew would do all that 
 was "wisest, discreetest, best/' 
 
 Earlv on the following morning, the anxious watcher was sur- 
 prised at receiving a letter from J. Grenville informing him of the 
 existence of the "Will," with its conditions, and concluding by 
 sussestins; that u no doubt prudence would induce Mr. Courtenaye 
 to cancel at once any engagement existing between Miss Gren- 
 ville and himself, as the contents of the said * Will ' had for some 
 time been known to her," etc. 
 
 The appeal to his "prudence," which had been thrown into 
 the letter by way of goad, suggested by the infinitesimal lawyer 
 Redman, fell powerless at Courtenaye's feet, equally so the 
 proviso of the Will ; but the assurance that Mary knew of its 
 existence, and had done so for some time, troubled him, and the 
 belief expressed by her brother that " no doubt she would act 
 with her usual good sense," went like an ice-bolt through his 
 heart. 
 
 " Could this, then, be the cause of her long mysterious silence V 
 
 Had the love that (measured by his own) he believed was en- 
 
246 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 twined with the very fibres of existence, shrunk from laying 
 wealth on its altar, a willing holocaust ? 
 
 rt Was the unutterable affection he bore her not worth this 
 sacrifice ? " 
 
 " Had he decked this beloved image with the costliest flowers 
 in his heart's garden, and had she thrown them off for chains of 
 gold?" 
 
 ;; Oh ! when will that blighted heart know a second Spring ? ' 
 
 Sadlv he mused, and 
 
 rt O'er his brow, so downward bent, 
 Oft his beating fingers went." 
 
 Unlike Mary, who under similar circumstances never permitted a 
 shadow of doubt for one instant to dim the brightness of her 
 entire heart-trust, Courtenaye did her wrong : but then, man 
 never trusts and loves as woman does ; his love is not his " whole 
 existence" as it is her's, hence though "one of the best of men," 
 our young pastor was but " a man at best," and worn as he was ' 
 in body and mind it is scarce fair to blame him for a doubt, bom 
 of his very love : do they not often follow each other, like light 
 and shade, this Love and Doubt ? 
 
 But higher, nobler thoughts soon resume their sway : his well 
 regulated mind swerving for a brief moment from its centre by 
 the strong insetting current of unlooked-for events, and untoward 
 influences, was like the needle to the magnet, true and constant ; 
 and he gathers up its truant energies to look calmly on this blotted 
 page of his life's history ; he knows that the cup^ though bitter, 
 has been filled by his Father's hand : and shall he turn from it ? 
 
 Now begins one of those conflicts for victory over the shrink- 
 ing heart, which are hourly fought by tens of thousands on the 
 world's great battle-field, of which it takes no note. 
 
 It sympathises not though the life-strings crack, and the face 
 grows prematurely old in the stern struggle"! 
 
 It shouts not when the victory is won, that has cost more than 
 many defeats ! 
 
 It smiles not approval, though the recording Angel exults as 
 he inscribes the conquest in the archives of heaven ? 
 
 Night found Courtenaye victor over himself ; and now he can 
 find numberless excuses for the conduct of her whose love had 
 shed such a tender but evanescent halo over his life-path. 
 
 M She had no doubt well reflected, and could not act otherwise : 
 
9mmm mm ^m^ mmmmm 
 
 beady ? 247 
 
 guided by a sense of duty she had been able to sacrifice her own 
 wishes to those'of her father, and who could blame her ? " 
 
 " Had she faltered too, and could not make known to him the 
 cruel decree that separated them — how deeply must she have 
 suffered ! A love like her's was no childish dream that the first 
 passing pageant would obliterate from memory." 
 
 Oh, how this thought melted his inmost soul ! and he 
 resolved to hear from her own lips a record of the past — he " will 
 offer her his friendship, and be to her the truest, the tenderest 
 of brothers ; he will sympathize with her griefs — joy in her 
 gladness'* — he is resolved. 
 
 Replying courteously, but shortly, to the vulgar missive of J. 
 Grenville, he also sent a few lines to Mrs. Leslie, entreating her 
 to intercede for him, and secure a few moment's interview with 
 Mary. 
 
 Alas ! for the faithful heart ! How often is its footfall amid 
 briars and thorns on duty's narrow highway ! may-be when 
 the skies were bluest, and the flowers bloomed fairest,* they have 
 suddenly sprung up, lacerating the feet, and tempting them to 
 turn aside awhile, into the quiet plains below ; but, " onward " is 
 Faith's banner-cry — "onward," though the thorns pierce, and the 
 flowers fade, and the light grows dim, and the lions roar — there 
 is no halting-place till the goal is won : the voice of duty echoes 
 loud, "this is the way, walk ye in it ;" but there comes, too, 
 the whisper, sweeter than the songs of angels, — 
 
 " / am with you always, even to the end" 
 
 Often, too, lies duty's path over a stormfully howling sea ; 
 may-be the out-setting was calm and joyous — not a wave but 
 rippled low music — not a breeze but it swelled the soul's outspread 
 sails with hope ; but, anon, a storm comes down upon the lake, 
 and like the little church of old on Tiberia's tossing sea, we are 
 in " danger of perishing every moment." 
 
 Ah ! if Faith's anchor be not now on the " Rock of Ages," 
 it will not hold ; if she hears not above the shriek of the tempest, 
 and the lashing of the blast, "It is I, be not afraid" the hapless 
 bark is lost. 
 
 " Do you think you feel equal to see Courtenaye this morning, 
 my love?'' asked Mrs. Leslie, her heart touched by the look of 
 
2-1S A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 hopeless sorrow that sat on the pale face of Mary. " May I 
 send and tell him you will be happy to see him after luncheon ? rr 
 Mary did not reply, but the crimson that mantled on her 
 cheek convinced her friend that she would not regain the quietness 
 of heart she so deeply needed, till all the mystery that shrouded 
 the past should be cleared away, and she continued, — 
 
 " Am I to consider your silence an assent to my inquiry, 
 darling ? I think it will be best for the happiness of both 
 that you should meet, and all these mistakes be explained : 
 may I say ' yes,' in your name, to his anxious wish for an 
 interview ?" she repeated, affectionately kissing the varying cheek 
 of Mary, who assented ; and it was with a heart pulsating almost 
 to suffocation, that she heard the rich, low tones of Courtenaye 
 inquiring for Julia, with whom he remained in conversation 
 during the time she was summoning strength to meet him. 
 
 At length, with footstep noiseless as the falling snow-flake, she 
 enters the room where he was standing, sadly gazing out on the 
 velvety lawn — bright with the variegated hues of Spring's early 
 flowers, that turned their glowing breasts to the sun's warm ray, 
 all unconscious of the solemn change that had passed over him> 
 who so late they, with all the costly varieties of nature and art 
 around them, owned as lord. 
 
 'Tis ever thus : the sun shines as bravely, though our old life 
 is gone — with its household melody — its cheerful hearth. 
 
 No change passes over the outer world when the storm-blast 
 desolates the lesser world within. 
 
 Nature sympathises not when our life is shrouded in darkness 
 by the sudden out-going of one lamp, that flooded it with light 
 and gladness. 
 
 The summer-bird tunes its notes as blithely, though the ear 
 that so late drank in, with us, its harmony is cold and dull. 
 
 As Courtenaye thus mused, his thoughts involuntarily flew 
 back to the " sudden death" that had come down upon the man- 
 sion ; the loud call it was to him and all to be u ready ;'~ 
 and so entirely did the solemnity of the event engross his 
 thoughts, that he was not aware of Mary's presence till his 
 name, uttered in a low heart-tone, caused him to start, and 
 turning round he met her tender but troubled eye, and in 
 an instant, with a smothered cry like to a wounded dove, 
 the impulsive and trusting girl sprung towards him, and threw 
 herself into his out-stretched arms. All the past is forgotten ! 
 
READY ? 249 
 
 she reads in that momentary gaze his undimmed faith and love ; 
 she sees before her the only breast on which she can lean in weal or 
 woe ; the only being in whom her life-pulses live and move— nay, 
 who is that "life itself; and as the young child nestles on its 
 mother's bosom, so she clung to the true and manly heart 
 beating close to her own. 
 
 -And Courtenaye ! Ah ! he, too, yielding to the bliss of that 
 unmistakeable outburst of trusting affection on the part of her he 
 so fondly loved, forgot all his previous intentions of offering her 
 his " friendship," and " brotherly regard," and murmured into 
 her willing ear love's own words of undying tenderness, which 
 fell on the over-tasked spirit of the confiding girl like a sweet 
 song of the morning bird, awakening the sleeper from a dark 
 and fevered dream. 
 
 Raising her loving eyes, filled with tears, to the noble face 
 of Courtenaye, Mary said, with touching grace and tenderness, — 
 
 " And can vou take such a wilful, unworthy creature to your 
 heart, who has nothing to brin^ but a lifetime of love?" 
 
 Courtenaye's answer was so low that it did not reach us, and in 
 good truth we had no right to listen ; but it may very fairly be 
 inferred that he did not refuse this reasonable request on the part 
 of his new-found treasure, for we fancied we heard Mary's voice 
 murmuring " where thou goest, I will go, — and thy God shall be 
 my God!'' and when he left the house, (which he did in an 
 inconceivably short time to our ideas of "making it up,") 
 his fine features wore an expression of tranquil joy to which they 
 had loner been truant ; while Mary sought the bosom of her 
 faithful friend and counsellor, whom she shortly after accom- 
 panied into Scotland, for the change and rest her tired frame so 
 much needed, and at the end of twelve months she became the 
 blessed wife 
 
 "■What!" exclaims some fair reader, "is the matter-of-fact- 
 author going to cheat us of 'all about the wedding !' " "How 
 many bridesmaids there were ?" ""What was the color of their 
 bonnets?" " What dress did the bride wear?" '-How did she 
 look ?" " Was she married in a veil ?" " Who gave her away V y 
 "Where did they go for their wedding-tour?" and so on. 
 
 Yes, dear reader, for it was very quiet — just a heart-scene, 
 nothing more ; and perhaps you who have been accustomed 
 to "such splendid weddings" might have pronounced it "a very 
 stupid affair." 
 
250 A LIFE-LONG STOET. 
 
 Beside, if your tastes lie in the opposite extreme, you know 
 you can almost on any day gratify them (especially if you 
 reside in London, by whiting away an hour in the sacred pre- 
 cincts for fashionable weddings, " St. George's, Hanover Square "), 
 and moreover you might have thought it "very odd" — or 
 "exceedingly silly" of Mary, to countenance such* a "homely 
 wedding," and allowing, as she did, the cost of a * splash" to be 
 given to the poor and aged and sorrowful of her native parish, 
 in the shape of the necessaries of life : thus gladdening their 
 hearts and tuning them to gratitude and love. 
 
 Beside, fancy for one moment that quiet though very dis- 
 tinguished-looking young minister of the Cross with a whole loom 
 of Honiton or Isle of Wight lace hanging on his arm in the 
 shape of a wife ! The thing is impossible ! 
 
 Not but lace is a meet and exquisite attire for a bridal — not 
 but " splendid weddings" seem almost among the necessaries of 
 society as it is at present constituted — but both depend on cir- 
 cumstances : and as our unassuming Marys happiness could 
 not have been in the slightest degree increased by oceans of 
 show and grandeur, we just repeat the old assertion, earnestly 
 craving pardon if it gives offence, that at the end of twelve 
 months she become the blessed wife of "that canting, metho- 
 distical fellow, Courtenaye" — her worthy brother immediately 
 availing himself of the circumstance to get release from some of 
 the disgraceful embarrassments his abandoned] career had 
 involved him in ; all the rich and costly appointments of her late 
 home — of which he had gained possession in so dishonourable a 
 manner, — being " brought to the hammer," and he left the town 
 
 of D , to settle in London; while his respectable coadjutor 
 
 Redman was 'compelled to rest content with a moiety of the 
 booty promised as his reward — " that, or nothing ! " being the 
 concise alternative, with which his friend answered the abject 
 whine of remonstrance John Josiah set up. Had he dared, he 
 would have sought redress ; but he found it much easier to " lay 
 down the law" before his simple little wife than he did before 
 the stem madam, yclept "Law," herself: added to which he had 
 just then another troublesome affair on his hands in the shape of 
 an action, to which he had exposed himself by a most illegal, 
 and underhand attempt to nullify the will of a near relative ; and 
 in his eager desire to clutch the few hundreds therein bequeathed 
 to a party who would not submit to any of his shuffling, he trod 
 
READT ? 251 
 
 over the verge of legality, instead of walking as he had done all 
 his life on its borders, and thus brought himself into " pleasant 
 confusion," face to face, with a law suit ; and dreading to add 
 exposure to exposure, and thus accelerate a catastrophe the 
 moral police had long since convicted him of deserving, viz., 
 being struck off the rolls, he submitted to his friend's terms, 
 " that or nothing," nolens volens, the whole transaction between 
 the legal pair forming one of those brilliant exceptions to the rule 
 so eloquently insisted on by popular writers, of 
 
 " Honour among thieves." 
 
252 A LIFE-LONG STORY 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 W\k ani \m gttties.— pastor rato jus Antagonisms. 
 
 ,{ He who would do some great thing in this short life must apply himself 
 to it with a concentration of energy, that to those who live only to amuse 
 themselves looks like insanity." — Forster. 
 
 There is ever a feeling akin to sadness in the pleasure with 
 which we contemplate perfect creature- happiness ; a whisper 
 echoes through the heart, — 
 
 u Here we have no abiding stay." 
 
 Who > when quaffing delicious draughts from the gem-studded 
 chalice of earthly bliss, dreams that the " golden bowl" must be 
 broken ? Who, when Love's starry mantle wraps existence in its 
 shining folds, dreams that the " silver cord" must be loosed ? 
 Who, loving and beloved, can seek a brighter world when the 
 present is strewed with flowers, and Time bears on his perfumed 
 wings the incense of honey-laden hearts ? Ah ! 
 
 " The close is dim, 
 
 Bringing the wrung heart back to Him." 
 
 They must go into the " training school for immortality," and, 
 in the cloud, learn the great life-lesson that could not be learnt 
 in the sunshine so mercifully sent first. The rain-drops must 
 come ere the bow shines forth. 
 
 There must be a vacant place at the heart's hearth, and house- 
 hold voices must be hushed ere the spirit listens to the solemn 
 whisper, " this is not your rest." 
 
"WIFE ANT) HER DUTIES. '" ' '• 253 
 
 Such thoughts came unbidden as the eye rested on the picture 
 of Mary's wedded life ; it seemed all too bright to last ; Love had 
 planted an Eden around her, and she walked in the midst of the 
 seventy palms of its Elim, plucking enticing fruits from their 
 loftiest bough : how could she dream of a worm at their roots ! 
 
 She drank at the gushing stream of creature- bliss : how could 
 she dream of a a broken cistern ! " 
 
 Ah ! those delicious streams must be dried, or she will never 
 seek the Eternal Fountain, and nought but " living waters" can 
 slake the soul's thirst. Yes ! the mutations of every earthly 
 happiness, u passing away" stamped upon all — from the meek- 
 eyed daisy to the star-worlds — proclaim it must be so. The 
 stream must be dried. 
 
 Then comes the peace that nought can mar, nor serpent 
 blight, nor change affect, nor earth-born care corrode, nor 
 death destroy — the heart fixed on Jesus. And though the 
 bird of woe may brood over the heart when fond hopes are 
 crushed, and precious joys are withered, and the remorseless 
 grave lies newly tenanted in the sun's warm ray, yet the believer 
 sorrows not " as others who have no hope;" anchored within 
 the veil, his heart has none of its sensibilities deadened — nay, 
 they become' acuter by his union with the tender Sympathizer 
 who wept over Bethany's lone grave, and 
 
 * He learns to kiss the chastening rod, 
 But feels its sharpness still." 
 
 r Alas ! it is only in adversity we learn the important lesson 
 prosperity never teaches: — 
 
 u He builds too low who builds beneath the skies." 
 
 It is a hard lesson, learnt amid heart- shakings and heart- 
 breakings ; so hard that the temptation comes to throw it all 
 aside, and rush into the halls of pleasure, and drown the sorrow- 
 cry ; but softly, over the waste and desolate places, from the far-off 
 land breaks a light arching them with sunshine, " these afflic- 
 tions, which are but for a moment, work a far more exceeding and 
 eternal weight of glory" 
 
 What though the road be thorny, and the skies stormy, and 
 the events mysterious, 'tis " but for a moment." Nor is this all : 
 as regards the life that now is, the believer can trust the Father's 
 hand, he cannot at each variation trace : he looks abroad into the 
 world with its conflicting interests, its down-trodden virtue, its 
 
254 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 triumphant guilt, its giant oppressions, its mighty wrongs, its 
 surging sorrows : he looks into the narrow circle that bounds 
 the horizon of the lesser world around him, and sees the same 
 jarring elements, and conflicting strife between right and wrong, 
 but instead of the sceptic's enquiry, '-can there be a God that 
 judgeth aright?" he trusts, though he cannot trace, knowing that 
 at best he " sees through a glass darkly," and that the finite 
 cannot follow the Infinite. He feels it is as if a child-hand 
 should lift a corner of the veil spread over Time, and confused 
 with the tangled mazes and many-coloured hues of the wondrous 
 web, let it fall, exclaiming, " I cannot tell whence it cometh, or 
 whither it goeth ! " Then a bolder and maturer hand turns 
 back another fold, and after days and nights of sleepless toil, 
 writes the epitaph of its labours : — "All that we know is, nothing 
 can be known :" but the believer's trust fails not. Faith, with 
 meek eye fixed on Calvary, sees the veil rent in twaiu, and on 
 cither side the Eternal promise, "what I do, thou hioicest not now, 
 but thou shalt know hereafter," and on eagle's wings she bears 
 aloft the immutable words, which shine clearer and brighter as 
 she soars above the mists and clouds of earth, sweeping the 
 stars with her silvery wing. Ah ! it is only the Cross that 
 sheds a ray strong enough to illuminate the strange writing on 
 Time's mysterious scroll. 
 
 Troubled believer ! thou on' whose heart life's storms have beat 
 fiercely, take the promise into thy trembling hand — examine it — 
 cling to it — it was spoken for thee in gentlest accents, u - thou shalt 
 know hereafter." Yes ! thou shalt know why 
 
 " A cloud was sent to darken all thy years." 
 
 Thou shalt know why thy sheltering gourd was blasted ; and 
 like the smitten prophet, thou hast said in thine heart. — "it is 
 better for m e to die than to live ! " 
 
 Thou shalt know why 
 
 " Hearts from whom 'twas death to sever, 
 Eyes the world may ne'er restore," 
 
 sleep their long sleep, but thou canst not read that •• why" with 
 mortal vision. " I have many things to say unto thee, but thou 
 cans' t not bear them noic." 
 
 How involuntarily the heart takes with it into the better 
 world those who made so much of its heaven below ! and surely 
 
WIFE AND HER DUTIES. 1*00 
 
 our merciful Creator intended it to be so ; did He give us precious 
 ones only to tear them from us for ever I Did he consecrate 
 household affections and sympathies, and griefs with His presence ? 
 Had He counsel for Martha, and tears for Mary, meaningless ? 
 Did He restore the son of the widow, and the brother of 
 Bethany's sister, and the fair child of Jairus, and not intend to 
 teach us eloquent lessons 1 
 
 Oh ! foolish thought! "If tn this Vfe only ice have hope, ice 
 are of all men the most miseralle" but ic all things" are the believer's, 
 lc ichether things past, or present, or to come." 
 
 But to return to Mary. Yes, it was plensant to look on her 
 in the sacred and responsible character of wife, and above all, of 
 Pastor's wife — she has no neutral ground, being either a 
 " savour of life unto life," or of " death unto death," as his help- 
 meet. 
 
 Thus the young creature entered with all the heart-energy 
 characterizing her, into the efforts and plans of her idolized 
 husband for the threefold regeneration of the locality in which 
 he laboured, devoting herself to the blessed work of reclaiming 
 the degraded, neglected outcasts of her own sex, many of whom 
 she would gather round her ; and as she hopefully sowed the seeds 
 of virtue and honesty, not a {ev,- were won into the right way, 
 through their gratitude to her, who so lovingly sought them out 
 amid their guilt and misery. 
 
 Then it was with no diminishing glass we peeped into her 
 nursery, where, seated with her first-born, on her lap, a merry 
 cheerful-faced girl, and with her ringer on her lip, pointing 
 silently to her boy just betraying symptoms of waking dissatisfac- 
 tion at the ringing laugh of the former, she played another part. 
 
 The advent of "these little pilgrims on the bustling, matter-of- 
 fact life-stage (where they were destined to , but we 
 
 ought not to anticipate) had filled the cup of Mary's happiness 
 to the brim : she even held it herself tremblingly, feeling it was 
 too full, too sparkling to stay ! 
 
 The Mexicans thus salute their new born infants : " child, thou 
 art come into the world to suffer ; endure, and hold thy peace !" 
 
 Terrible salutation! but what mother who " day by day 
 watches her little bud put forth its leaves," can realize the stern 
 teaching ? What mother would be wise if she attempted to do so ? 
 the thought indulged would poison the holiest springs of creature- 
 
256 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 affection at the fountain-head. Oh, no ! strong in maternal ten- 
 derness, full of faith and hope, she hears the voice of the boun- 
 tiful Giver of this new well-spring of joy, saying "take this child 
 and nurse it for me — " and her head is bowed — her entire mother- 
 life an embodiment of the principle that will enable her, at the 
 great reaping day to say, — 
 
 " Behold, here I am and the children whom thou gayest me." 
 But then, to attain unto this, she knows she has a sinful nature 
 to train, and a spirit prone to evil, and that bears indigenous every 
 unwholsome weed, to purify and make meet for glory j she feels 
 that the first lasting impressions of her darling's moral existence 
 must be written by the mother-hand, and she "begins at the be- 
 ginning : " she has seen in her father's family, as well as in that 
 of others, the fearful consequences of allowing every weed to run 
 into luxurious rankness in the heart of the child, while its mother 
 deludes herself into the belief that " When Harry, or Freddy, or 
 Jenny gets older, he or she will know better, and not do such 
 nau^htv things." No such thing ! when Harry, or Freddy, or 
 Jenny gets older, he or she may know better, but will not prac- 
 tise better, because the twig has been bent crooked, and crooked it 
 will grow, unless a mighty hand interfere to set it straight, and so 
 Mary "begins at the beginning," spending all the time she can 
 spare from her manifold duties with these cherub-like candidates 
 for eternal life, who have already learned from their bright young 
 mother the wholesome normal lesson, that " No" means ">io," 
 and "Yes" means ".yfs." It is a simple, but most important 
 beginning. 
 
 Not that under any circumstances she could have degenerated 
 into one of those blots on human nature — an indifferent, fashion- 
 able, pleasure-hunting mother : she had too much heart for that! 
 she recollects how pained and surprised she once was at being told, 
 by a specimen] of these singular creations, on her enquiring the 
 age of one of her beautiful children, to " ask Williams the nurse, 
 for really I have forgotten !" and she had heard of another, who 
 replied, when a bright boy with flushing cheek and dewy eye, 
 asked, " Mamma, will people who are buried in the ground ever get 
 up again, and if they do will grandpapa and Willv and Lillv get 
 up too ?"— 
 
 " Run awav child, and don't ask such foolish, silly ques- 
 tions ! " 
 
 Ah ! how many an opportunity has been lost for sowing seeds 
 
WIFE AND HER DUTIES. 2of 
 
 to blossom in eternity by the mother's spirit-chilling " don't ask 
 such silly questions, — run away ! " 
 
 These lessons have not been lost on the young mother, as she 
 sits there, with her finder on her rich lip, ministering to the wee 
 pilgrims, who, spite of tneir sinful natures, look like " two strav 
 babes from Paradise," and she " begins at the beginning,'' that 
 the end may be with " joy and not with grief." 
 
 " Mother ! watch the little heart, 
 Beating soft, and true for you ; 
 Wholesome lessons now impart, 
 Keep, oh ! keep that young: heart true. 
 Harvest rich thou then shalt see, 
 Ripening for eternity :" 
 
 Few places, in some respects, could have been much worse 
 adapted for successful labour among its dense, dark popu- 
 lation than the town of D , arising from the dissensions 
 
 among the religious sections before named, unity being the very 
 forecast and secret of success ; still the legion antagonisms did not 
 overbear the spirit of the [right-hearted ; and never was there a 
 finer demonstration of the vast amount of good one real de- 
 voted influence may effect than the improvement sprung rapidly 
 up therein. 
 
 "With true insight into the secret springs of action and cha- 
 racter, Courtenaye had early discovered that the way to the soul 
 was easier through the heart than through dogmas, or creeds, or 
 any ecclesiastical machinery. 
 
 The religion he practices is one of Love ; thus, when he looks 
 on the large flock " over whom the Spirit has made him bishop," 
 and marks the forest of bronzed weather-beaten faces, reading 
 u spirit and life" in the intelligent eyes fixed on him, as he points 
 them to the " true Bread that came down from heaven," and 
 the u Living; Waters' that no thirst succeeds ; whatever others 
 may do, he cannot " resolve the whole terrestrial existence into 
 an affair of mechanics, chemistry, and physiology, cut off from 
 all influences human and divine." No ! he recognizes beings 
 capable of being raised, by the powerful lever of Redeeming Love, 
 rom the lowest depths of human degradation to the heights of 
 he eternal hills ; and he meets his poorer brother as his fellow- 
 
258 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 pilgrim in the " narrow road," giving him the right hand of fellow- 
 ship. What, though the hand be soiled, the " horny palm" shall 
 some day sweep the chords of that majestic harp, whose lofty song 
 no note of discord jars ! God is no respecter of persons, but icilleth 
 that all men should be saved" 
 
 Then, too, in Courtenaye's visits and dealings with the poor — 
 the terribly poor, those who "aint got no clothes to go to 
 church, among they there line folks," and who never goto any other 
 sanctuary " for fear of changing their religion," (poor, ignorant 
 souls !) — he never attempted rudely and dogmatically to drive 
 them out of their prejudices into those of some other self-sufficient 
 teacher. His whole life was a walking sermon, stamped with 
 the Cross ; and he was ever ready to commiserate their igno- 
 rance, and sympathise with their wrongs. Little did he care to 
 which place of w r orship they went, where the Gospel was faith- 
 fully proclaimed, so that they could be induced to leave their 
 soul and body-destroying habits, and go at all. He didn't want 
 to hear the party shout of sectarianism, but to see the sinful re- 
 claimed, the miserable happy, the careless awoke, the dead alive. 
 He laboured to arouse them to a sense of their dignity as immor- 
 tal beings ; and strove to induce the clean home, the tidy appa- 
 rel, the decent appearance ; while probably the consideration he 
 invariably evinced to the feelings, and even prejudices of his 
 fellow- sinners, helped to render his success among them so 
 signal. And it is surely not wonderful that it was so ; his refine- 
 ment was heart-work, and ecclesiastical etiquette is (or ought to 
 be) very much like social etiquette, the offspring of right feeling. 
 To go among the poor with ill-disguised superiority, and an evi- 
 dent sense of immense condescension towards them — to wander 
 round their guilt and misery, as some superior planet mysteri- 
 ously out of its orbit, shot into an uncertain region amid lost and 
 w r andering stars, will never win its way to the soul. And w T hen 
 our earnest young man, his face beaming kindly feeling, would 
 sit down on the old crazy stool, or the rickety box turned upside 
 down, beside the bed of the aged, the dying, the friendless, and 
 point the sinner's eye to the sinner's Saviour, — when he would 
 kindly call about him the tattered, shoeless, neglected urchins of 
 the squalid hut, asking their mother " all about them," and 
 thereby paving the way to the humanizing Eagged School, — when 
 he hastily withdrew from the cottage or hovel, if he saw the un- 
 finished meal or the scanty repast in their bony hands, lest his 
 
WIFE AND HER DUTIES. 259 
 
 presence should add to their sufferings a sense o 
 he treated them as " ; flesh of his flesh," -was his 
 
 sense of shame. — when 
 success much to 
 
 be wondered at? or was it surprising they should name him 
 with tears of affection, and determine to do'all they could to meet 
 his wishes ? They to be treated with respect and sympathy ! — 
 they, the outcast, the needy, the unfortunate ! They who, if ever 
 they had thought of a parson at all, fancied him some wonderful 
 ideal in silks and lawn, that flesh and blood (poor flesh and blood !) 
 presumed not to contact with ! 
 
 Was it astonishing, we repeat, that this house-going minister 
 should be blessed with a church-going people ? Hence hundreds 
 of the poorer sheep were unanimous in the opinions of a wretched 
 widow, who, as skirt-runner to a fashionable milliner agonized a 
 skeleton living for herself and four white-faced wee things who 
 called her mother, — 
 
 " He's one of the right sort for a parson ! He knows as how 
 poor folks has got feelins' as well as the rich, and don't stick 
 hisself up above us, and tell us we be ■ poor, miserable sinners.' 
 "We knows that well enough ourselves." 
 
 u Lor, he talks to me just as if I was his own flesh and blood ! 
 and if I lives till Sunday I'll go and hear 'un preach, for he savs 
 he loves to preach to we poor people, because his Master loved 
 the poor !" 
 
 Follow him into the wretched abode of that " out-of-work " 
 labourer ; mark how the sickly wife strives to hush the clamour 
 of those young voices wailing for bread which she has not to 
 give. He knows a bundle of tracts won't meet that want, or a 
 homily on patience still that cry, and then, from the well-hus- 
 banded store of his charity sermons, he meets the body's great 
 need of food. Here was an argument that went straight to the 
 most sensitive part of human nature, an appeal which touched 
 the springs of feeling, and gratitude gushed out of wasting hearts 
 long unused to sympathy's sweet voice. Now, 'tis easy to point 
 to the " Bread of Life," "so forcibly and feelingly illustrated by the 
 " bread that perisheth." Ah! his fellow sinner bears about* with 
 him a mysterious trinity that is to exist for ever, and shall he 
 meet him only on the grounds of his spiritual nature? Shall he 
 divide what God has joined V 
 
 " Wliosoever seeth his brother have need, and shutteth up his com' 
 passion from him, how dwelleth the love of God in him?' 
 
 Perhaps few understood better than our voung pastor the 
 
 s2 
 
260 A LIFE-LOXG STORY. 
 
 softening effect produced on the poor by respect shown to their 
 feelings and prejudices. 
 
 To win, with unconscious ease, the hearts of all who came 
 within the sphere of his influence, 'mid his equals, seemed part 
 of his very nature ; what, then, when he contacted with those 
 to whom sympathy and kindness were new ; and instead of meet- 
 ing his fellow-sinner with the sickening truth, none knew so 
 bitterly as he did. "you are a poor, guilty, lost, miserable soul!" 
 "you must do this or that;" he ever met them with, "we 
 all need the same precious Saviour ! we — my brother, my sister. 
 Has he not at all times an indwelling sense of his own need as a 
 sinner ? Has he not ever before him the gulf from which Infi- 
 nite Love snatched him V" 
 
 Shall he assume a sanctimonious superiority in his dealings 
 with his fellow- worm ! Who made him to differ, and what has 
 he that he did not receive ? Forward, then, he goes, invigorated 
 by his Master's promise, " I am with you always," and encou- 
 raged by the help and devotion of his true-hearted wife ; so that 
 when hostilities threatened to overwhelm his ardent soul, or ridi- 
 cule shot her subtle arrows, tipped with " Folly ! " u Fanati- 
 cism ! " " Madness ! " (oh, glorious madness — beside oneself for 
 God !) vain was the attempt to bring down or transfix his up- 
 ward sweep : he had but to turn to these sustaining fibres, n and 
 all was right again." 
 
 Like all well-tuned spirits, Courtenaye was not insensible to the 
 witty sarcasm, the covert sneer, the lying tattle, and the coarse 
 insinuation, but they had no power to'reach his loyal heart ; that 
 never shifted its moorings when the black squall of intolerance or 
 bigotry lashed fiercely against its gallant sides ; the narrow, one- 
 sided religionism, the party Btrife, the incessant attritions that 
 surrounded him, what were they to a soul whose wings were ever 
 sweeping the horizon of Eternity? Hence he blows'the Gospel 
 trump, and " whether men v:ill hear, or whether they v:ill forbear:' 
 he knows its echoes shall reverberate till " every valley shall be 
 exalted, and evei-y mountain made low" for " the mouth of the 
 LORD hath spoken it;" and he breathed an atmosphere of peace 
 and joy in believing. With him life's key-note was not ever a 
 monotone, its skies of a neutral tint, or its* seas of a leaden hue ; 
 he did not clothe Religion in the gloomy garments of asceticism, 
 or embody it in a morose, exclusive bearing. Xo ! such a develop- 
 ment is a travesty : God is "Light" as w^ll as "Love," and 
 
WIFE AND HER DUTIES. 261 
 
 true Religion incorporates these glorious essences. It is the " un- 
 pardoned " who should be gloomy, not the man who walks with 
 his Maker as a u fellow-worker " with Him ; and while the 
 faithful pastor laboured and prayed for those who would not 
 listen to the messages of salvation, he cheerfully worked with all 
 who worked for his Master — whatsoever men called them little 
 affected him ; full well he knew that it is the presence of Chiist 
 that constitutes and consecrates a church, not any superstitious 
 rite or denominational distinction, for he reads in the unchanging 
 record of the Great Head of the Church, — " wherever two or 
 three are gathered together in My name, there am I in their 
 midst." 
 
 tl Wherever", — on the lofty peaks of the snow-breasted 
 Himalaya, or in the sultry savannahs of swarthy Africa ; 
 whether u in Greenland's icy mountain," or in the Prairies of the 
 far West ;" whether in the lowly valley on the burnside, or 'mid 
 the ''garments rolled in blood " on the battle plain ; whether on 
 
 " The ever sounding and mysterious sea," 
 
 or in the miserable garret-home, if "two or three are gathered 
 together" in the name of Christ, He is in their midst, and there is 
 a consecrated church !" 
 
 But, like other right-hearted men who are now nobly breasting 
 the war-tide in the front ranks of Right against Wrons;, and bearing 
 the " heat and burden of the day" which will close in a sunset of 
 glory, Courtenaye soon found that ardour and enthusiasm in the 
 most important of all interests was not only at a discount, but 
 absolutely in danger of being scared away altogether by the 
 hydra heads that dogged his every step in the right direction ; 
 and while he might have been an enthusiastic supporter of his 
 favourite candidate on the hustings, or an ultra, energetic better 
 on Sky-Sealer in the race, or a rabid speculator on 'Change, or an 
 impassioned pleader for the life of the double-dyed murderer ; 
 while he might have poured forth a lava-torrent of eloquence in 
 praise of beauty, wealth, or power, and men would have clapped 
 hands, " encoring " and " bravoing " no end ; to be an enthusiast 
 in the work of God, and earnest in guiding immortal souls into 
 the peace-pastures of forgiveness ; to be zealous in seeking the 
 "lost," and bringing them back from the gates of hell; to follow 
 Him who wept over suicidal Jerusalem, or the prophet whose 
 
262 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 " eyes ran down rivers of water " over sinners in the hundred- 
 gated city, Oh! what a host "up in arms" opposed him! 
 
 First, — ever "loving to [have the pre-eminence," comes 
 your "orthodox" religionist, traveling by parliamentary train, 
 with his one idea, all bound round and round with old musty 
 ecclesiastical red tape, and with a marvellously Smithfield- 
 infusing sensation, he exclaims, — 
 
 " All this abominable ranting ought to be put down ! Such 
 low fanaticism is disgraceful ! This ignorant enthusiasm only 
 inflames the minds of the vulgar and lower orders ! 'Tis the 
 height of folly to let it go on ! They'll be coming to ' take away 
 both our church and nation ' if it is not put a stop to! " and 
 so on. 
 
 Poor man ! He cannot believe in the possibility of a flame 
 ascending to heaven, unless the altar whereon it is kindled be of 
 carved-work, covered with purple and gold. 
 
 Next flutters in your fashionable religionist, who travels 
 express, and he exclaims, — 
 
 " 0, but I say, that's a good deal too bad ! Coming it too 
 sht'ong ! These modern hot gospellers are a tezdble nuisance ! 
 Too much of a good thing, by Jove ! Pleaching down all our 
 amusements ! TJ ighteousness over much may do well enough 
 for the poazr, but zreally, for us, it is going a little too 
 far !" etc. 
 
 Then struts in your commercial, reasoning religionist, poor 
 fellow ! and, although his brain is only a portable counting-house, 
 and his body a locomotive ledger, he fondly believes that he is 
 an " angel of light," and one of the very few specimens left ; so 
 he prefers a creed of expediency — one that allows a compression 
 of all the sanctity of life into a couple of hours of church-going 
 on the Sabbath morning. He has no idea of devoting the loftiest 
 and noblest powers of man to religion, not he ! 
 
 u To do whatever his hand findeth to do icith all Jus might," he 
 obeys only with his cash-box before him, taking his business into 
 his religion, but never his religion into his business. Some- 
 times our reasoning religionist is a sort of First Form metaphy- 
 sician, and he delights in abstractions that would confound a 
 German psycologist, having practically ignored the teachings of 
 the Bible, and, like the Jews of old, "will not have this man to 
 rule over" him, he is trying hard to pooh ! pooh ! away his soul, 
 and now and then gets up a little controversy with his conscience 
 
WIFE AND HER DUTIES. 263 
 
 about the "possible myth of its being immortal;" but somehow 
 conscience always gets the best of the argument, and speaks 
 louder than all the metaphysical abstractions in the world. 
 Reasoner says — "What's the use of all this stuff and nonsense 
 about salvation ? Who knows if theie is a soul ? No one ever 
 came back to tell us so, and why should a man give up all the 
 
 pleasures of life for visionary ?" But conscience 
 
 whispers. "Man, thou art immortal T 
 
 Reasoner parleys a little at the mysterious voice he cannot 
 hush. "And, even if there should be a hereafter, and a God, no 
 doubt He is very merciful, and won't condemn a man for 
 enjoying the things of this life, or why did he give them? 
 It doesn't stand to reason! Besides, are we not told to be 
 1 diligent in business V and what's the good of all this fuss 
 about neglecting the soul, when in reality we are not sure . . 
 
 " Again, conscience whispers, louder than before, 
 
 "Man, thou art immortal!" 
 
 Yet, notwithstanding all this hard trying to ignore his immor- 
 tality, there are moments when even our Reasoner feels a strange 
 gracious softness steal over him, which all his prosperity cannot 
 satisfy, though he looks upon it as a proof of his being in high 
 favor at the Court of Providence. There is a craving inner-want, 
 his flourishing estate and sumptuous entourage will not answer — 
 they are not heart things. 
 
 One day a tear dimmed his eye, as he read an account of the 
 heroic death of one of his boyhood's companions in the 
 vain attempt to save a drowning shipmate. On another — when 
 from among a whole Babel of papers, there dropped a wee shining 
 curl, which he had cut from the unconscious head of a vouns; 
 sister, ere — 
 
 u All its wavy locks of gold," 
 
 were laid in the narrow house, and this Reasoner trying so hard 
 to pooh-pooh away his soul ! bows his head over the mute, yet 
 eloquent relic of his playmate and boyish idol, weeping like 
 a child, while conscience whispers in gentlest accents, " Man, thou 
 art immortal.'' 
 
 # Ah, listen " Reasoner !" and through the chinks of thine iron- 
 ribbed heart shall flow in as a river, " the peace that passeth all 
 understanding /" _— 
 
264 A LIFE-LONG STOUT. 
 
 " Well, but what are all these trite, threadbare ideas about 
 men and things to us ?" exclaims some impatient reader. 
 " We do not care about the moralizing, or the nerve and sinew 
 of a book; we prefer the lighter reading — scenes, poetry, and 
 so on." 
 
 Nay, dear reader ! surely this is " writing hard things against 
 yourself," and kind ! Surely the M nerve and sinew" of a book 
 ever touch an answering chord in woman's heart — or what meant 
 the simultaneous burst welcoming to her mother-land that 
 uncompromising conservative ot human rights — Mrs. Beecher 
 Stowe ? Bid her tell you whose hearts thrilled deepest, whose 
 compassions gushed out in generous deeds and noble aspirations, 
 as her master-hand awoke an electric thrill, destined to 
 vibrate till the blood-cemented slavery system, whether in 
 sugar, cotton, or millinery shambles, shall cease tojj blot 
 the brow of mother and child. Ask her whose sympathies 
 swelled and hallowed the ovation waiting her on Britain's shore ! 
 Ah! it was not alone the melting pathos, the intellectual sweep 
 and compass, the burning eloquence, the brilliant and artistic 
 variations of light and shadow scintilating on her pages, that 
 appealed to England's women — it was her close contact with the 
 sufferings, and sorrows, and wrongs of oppressed humanity, — it 
 was the power-grasp with which she seized, and the skill with which 
 she grappled the Cerberus in her dauntless advocacy of the 
 rights of human kind, that touched the magnetic wire running 
 through the warp and woof of woman's existence, and linking 
 her to the skies — demonstrating the premise : and not only so, 
 but proving that her heart is ever the same, whether pulsating in 
 anguish, as the quivering flesh follows the bloody thong from the 
 back of the first-born, in that great lash manufactory, whose 
 motto is (" Give ear, Oh Heavens, and listen, Oh earth !") — All 
 men have equal rights — and with these swelling words of 
 sham freedom on her lip, burlesques them by intertwining 
 Slavery in her legal constitution! "That only nation upon 
 earth, professing the Protestant faith, where slavery is found 
 standing a foul blot on the Christian firmament." The heart of 
 woman, we repeat, is ever the same, whether bleeding and broken 
 in the judicial slave-markets of America, or in the anti judicial 
 shambles of Britain — the mother sinning in act, the daughter in 
 principle ; and while there are streaks in the cloudy horizon pro- 
 phetic of a bright mid-day, surely it well becomes the daughters 
 
WIFE AND HER DUTIES. 265 
 
 of both great countries to help on, by influence and prayer, that 
 promised hour when all nations shall learn the grand truth, — 
 
 "He is the freeman whom the truth makes free, 
 And all are slaves beside." 
 
 " Truth," propounded bv the Maker of all men, from one blood, 
 and kindreds, and tongues, and nations, — 
 
 " Whatever ye would that men should do unto you, 
 do ye also unto them.*' 
 
26Q 
 
 A LIFE -LONG STORY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Dais's Sta& 
 
 f( And wilt thou judge one whom her God forgives ? 
 Oh ! man, bethink thee how beyond yon sky, 
 Pleading for such as thee, thy Saviour lives, 
 Covering the sin of which He bore the pain.'' 
 
 " Dearest Mrs. Courtenaye," remarked Lady Vane, rt do you 
 remember promising me the history of the poor girl whose dis- 
 tressing death cast a gloom for a while over our spirits ? Will 
 you redeem your promise now ?" she asked, seating herself in 
 Mary's cottage drawing-room, and taking from a curiously wrought 
 basket a garment she was making for the sick baby of a labourer 
 on the impoverished estate of her husband. 
 
 " I will tell you all I know," replied Mary, " though you must 
 scarcely receive my account as fact ; part of her history I heard 
 from my maid, and part from the woman with whom she lodged 
 at the time of her painful death. But why are you anxious to 
 hear a mournful chapter from the book of human life, when there 
 are brighter and happier V 
 
 " I seem to have no sympathy now in the bright things of life," 
 sadlv replied the title-sacrificed wife ; " my greatest pfeasure lies 
 in doing what I can to lighten the trials and griefs of those who, 
 like myself, seem to have been born to prove the truth of that 
 mournful Scripture, { In the world ye shall have tribulation.''" 
 
 Deeply touched by the desponding tone and words of the 
 elegant creature at her side, Mary took her hand, and pressing 
 it, replied m a very gentle voice, — 
 
daisy's story. 267 
 
 w But, clearest Lady Vane, if these trials have been the means 
 of weaning you from the unsatisfying pursuits of pleasure, and 
 leading you into the footsteps of Him 'who fed the hungry and 
 clothed the naked? will you not rather try and look on the bright 
 side of the picture ? It is not all gloom ; you still have many 
 blessings. You can feel satisfaction in these things, and can 
 point the sinner's eye to the sinner's Friend. You might have 
 been ' without God and without hope in the world.' " 
 
 "Not if I had been his ." She did not liberate the 
 
 word "wife." Her cheek burnt for a moment as she heard 
 herself giving utterance to her thoughts, and then became deadly 
 pale, while she continued rapidly and sorrowfully, — 
 
 " Oh ! what should I have been had I rushed into frivolity and 
 dissipation to drown the cry of my heart ? I should have gone 
 mad ! It was your husband saved me, and directed my weary soul 
 to the sure Resting-place. He taught me how to make life's 
 pressing burden bearable, by filling up its desolate hours in 
 employment for those more wretched than myself. He stimu- 
 lated me in my efforts for those ill-used children of toil and 
 oppression, the milliners and dressmakers; and, indeed," she 
 added in a less excited, but still very sad tone, " I do try to 
 banish thought. I know it is sin now to dream of old joy-days, 
 and it was only your look of sympathy that involuntarily drew 
 from me that precious, yet sinful thought ;" and she laid her 
 beautiful face shudderingly on Mary's shoulder, weeping like a 
 chastised child. 
 
 Mary allowed her to weep ; she put her arm softly round her, 
 and printed gentle kisses on the Hushed, throbbing brow. 
 
 It was a heart-sight those young wives ; a painter might have 
 caught inspiration from it, and embodied Sympathy on deathless 
 canvas. One in the flush of full-blown happiness, like some rich, 
 damask rose, so dew-laden, the beholder trembled lest the first 
 breeze should scatter dew and leaves together ; the other, in her 
 titled sorrow, like a lily over which the storm had unfolded its 
 scathing wings, beating its graceful head to earth, never more.to 
 lift itself in the glad sunshine. 
 
 Ah, Mrs. St. George ! with all your successful diplomacy, are 
 there not moments when, looking on that melancholy wife, you 
 feel you have much to answer for? "What right had you to turn 
 the sweetest stream that murmurs through the heart, and divert 
 it into a rugged embankment ? See you not now it is too late 
 
2 OS A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 that the stream has flown back, foaming and hissing, upon the 
 parched soil — all its gushing brilliancy dimmed — devastating 
 what it erst made glad with its sparkling smile ? 
 
 Look on the wreck of that young heart, ye title-craving 
 mothers, and sacrifice not the sweetest irower blooming this side 
 Paradise on the empty shrine of a sound, lest it become a thorn 
 piercing through your own soul when " there is none to help V 9 
 
 After a pause, Mar}' said, in a confidence-inspiring but gentle 
 voice — she found it easy then — " Cast all your care upon Him, for 
 He careth for you ! " 
 
 " I do ! I do ! " meekly replied Lady Vane. " "What would 
 become of me if I did not ! But oh ! dearest Mrs. Courtenaye, 
 if my husband would only take some interest in me, and talk to 
 me as he does to his groom or his dogs ; if he would say any- 
 thing but sit hour after hour with his sporting paper or racing 
 calendar, I could, I would be happier ! " And again tears of 
 blighted affection gushed from the heart that might have been 
 such a banqueting-house for Love, but for the curse of ambition. 
 
 Now that the ice was broken, Mary ventured to step on that 
 exceedingly delicate ground, the exclusive property of man and 
 wife, and she remarked, — 
 
 " But, dearest Lady Vane, Sir 'Wilbraham is very kind, he 
 never seems to oppose your wishes ; you may yet be the mean3 
 of interesting him in behalf of ' -whatsoever is true ; ' and as you 
 know he loves you, let this assurance animate you to increased, 
 prayerful exertion for him ; perhaps you had never directly 
 asked hirir either to accompany you in your visits of charity, or 
 to hear your favourite pastor ; " and she smiled a happy smile. 
 
 M Xo, I am afraid to do so," replied her friend, " he is so 
 cold, so uninterested in anything I say or do now. If I ask him 
 to -walk or drive, he answers, ' Just as you please ;' if I say, * Shall 
 we dine with mamma to-morrow ? ' 'Just as you please ' is all 
 the response he gives me. Can you not fancy how trying this 
 indifference must be ? " 
 
 " "Well, but you know he loves you, and this very willingness 
 to do 'just as you please' m?y be easily wielded for good. Sup- 
 pose you try, the next time you are going to visit any of your 
 poor proteges, to induce him to accompany you," affectionately 
 replied Mary. 
 
 " But he never cares for what I do now, and I should be afraid 
 
DAISY S STORY. 2G9 
 
 to ask him ; he would betray no interest ;" was Lady Vane's 
 desponding response. 
 
 " But will you not try and interest him, my dear friend ? Loye 
 is a powerful pleader, you know, and suppose the next time you 
 are going to church, or to visit some of your poor protege's, Vou 
 put your arm through that of your husband, and ask him* to 
 accompany you I I feel assured your efforts would be successful," 
 and she added in a cheerful tone, "what a blessed reflection it will 
 be if you are made instrumental in weaning him from his frivolous, 
 unsatisfying pursuits. Do you recollect the long conversation we 
 had a little time ago about • influence,' and the ■ indwelling 
 principle V '•' 
 
 " Oh, yes," replied Lady Vane, " I remember it perfectly well, 
 and I tried earnestly to reduce the principles to practice ; but it 
 is so very hard ; I will, however, do as you wish, and God grant 
 
 the result may be " 
 
 Ere she could conclude, a cheerful voice from the garden, called— 
 
 "Mamma! mamma! do come out, and see what a fine new 
 flower I have brought you !" and then came a low, ringing laugh, 
 Stealing iuto the heart like the music of a wedding-bell. 
 
 Mary knew that voice, and rising, she put her arm through 
 that of her friend, gently drawing her towards the window, 
 leading out on the smooth lawn, and a smile played once more on 
 the pale cheek of the titled victim, — while Mary laughed out- 
 right at the "new flower" Courtenaye had brought." He had 
 entwined the curly head of their little girl with some of the most 
 beautiful flowers from the garden, and she was sitting on her 
 constant playmate, a large Newfoundland dog, that was crouching 
 in the centre of the lawn, the intelligent eyes of the docile 
 animal seeming to express his share of the fun, while she clapped 
 her little hands, shrieking " Papa ! Papa ! Make Jet ?dde me I 
 I want to ivide on dear Jet !" And then, at Mary's request, 
 Lady Vane " held on " the joyous child, while Courtenaye, as 
 pleased as either, led them round and round the garden ; thus 
 the child became a ministering spirit to the sad being who " held 
 her on," and the young pastor's dignity was as little imperiled as 
 was that of the old Spartan warrior, who rode on a stick for the 
 amusement of his children, while dictating terms of peace to the 
 ambassadors of a powerful state. Oh, no ! it is refreshing to see 
 a mine of affection spring in the manly, yet tender heart, at the 
 clasp of a wee hand, or the kiss of infant lips — pleasant to look 
 
270 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 on the out-gushings of home affections and sympathies from the 
 breast that bares its unblenching front and quails not when 
 dangers threaten. Like some stately rock defying the tempest, 
 and smiling at the storm, yet cherishing at its base fair clustering 
 flowers, whose perfume rises an incense of gratitude for its 
 sheltering care. It is at home that man as well as woman shines 
 brightest ; in this Hesperides he throws off for a while the cares 
 and trammels ; 1 e forgets the disappointments and vexations of 
 life, and becomes a child once more. 
 
 At the reiterated request of Lady Vane, Mary repeated all the 
 knowledge in her possession of the unfortunate dressmaker's 
 every-day history ; but as her information was gathered from 
 sundry sources, and as frequent questions from her interested 
 auditor interrupted her, we think it better to give it in a consecu- 
 tive form. 
 
 At the age of twelve, Elinor Snow was considered by all who 
 knew her, as the " prettiest creature, either, in the village of 
 
 Dale or in the adjacent town of D ." The poor child's entrance 
 
 on the busy stage of life was but the harbinger of her future 
 sorrows ; her mother died two hours after her birth, from con- 
 tinued grief, it was said, at the loss of her husband — killed by a 
 fall from a scaffolding four months after their marriage. Ere 
 •' the pitcher was broken at the fountain," the dying woman 
 pointed to the helpless little stranger just drifted on the shores 
 of Time, and in a faint whisper, thus besought for it the care of 
 her own faithful mother, who bent in speechless grief over her. — 
 
 M She will soon be your only child, mother, dear ; bring her up 
 for God as you did me." 
 
 This sacred charge was faithfully kept, till the grey-haired 
 guardian, too, went home to God, and then the little Elinor, 
 now six years of age, became the sole care of her grandfather, 
 William Snow, who exclaimed, as he lifted the wailing orphan 
 from the dead bosom to which she clung, twining her child- 
 arms round the senseless clay, as the young flower wreathes the 
 broken column, — 
 
 " Come to your grandfather, my poor little Daisy ! 
 
 There, lay yer head down upon his old heart, and it shall be a 
 rough storm that tears thee away ! " 
 
 In a snug cottage, or lodge, as it was called, at the 
 entrance of the estate of Colonel and Lady Emily Arlington, 
 
daisy's stokt. 271 
 
 lived the said William Snow in the capacity of gardener ; and 
 much was he respected by the great family in whose service he 
 had sDent his lite, and who were not above taking a kindly 
 interest in the concerns of their humble dependents. The 
 • almond blossom"' had entwined itself amid the dark locks of the 
 good old man when he became the sole protector of the orphan 
 u Daisv," a name he bestowed on her because, to use his own 
 words,*'- she is just as meek-like and welcome as the little flower.'' 
 As the child grew in years, she grew into his heart, becoming 
 part of it — a honey-suckle clasping round an aged tree, stealing 
 its tender fibres into the gnarled weather-beaten trunk, and 
 shedding on it a perfumed glory, as^of early youth; and no 
 wonder, for u Daisy,"' all grace and beauty-laden as she was, 
 would have crept into a less susceptible bosom than that of 
 William Snow, and he gratified at once his affection and his 
 pride, bv sending her to the best day-school in the romantic 
 village, where, at the small cost of threepence per week, she learnt 
 to read, write, and crochet, beside " grammar ;" but she had 
 soon imbibed the entire stock of the good dame's knowledge^ 
 who, never imagining any of her pupils would require words of 
 more than two syllables, considerately allowed them to '■ skip"' 
 all and any that" chanced to monopolize more than the given 
 number. Naturally quick, the child sighed to learn something 
 more j and was ever enquiring about things that interested her 
 of the said dame, who would shake her head and become quite 
 ruffled, because Daisy looked "just as unbelieving as can be." 
 
 Poor child! and well she might look M unbelieving,"' when 
 gravely informed, in reply to her question, ° Please ma'am, what 
 makes thunder and lightning ? " — 
 
 " The rhumatz'es in old people's bones, — and that's why 
 they always knows when bad weather's a coming!" 
 
 The dear old grandfather instilled into the ear of the little 
 inquirer manv beautiful lessons of natural philosophy from his 
 ''best friend," as he called his Bible ! and she would stand, with 
 her eyes fixed in solemn awe, "as he told her" all about the 
 "morning stars that sung together," or the " clouds and winds 
 that do His pleasure;" but to her hundred-and-one eager 
 questions, such as a little spirit thirsting for knowledge would 
 ask, he was wholly adrift ; and he could only turn up his 
 eyes and hands in wondrous admiration at u such kind o' things 
 coming into her head," while, to say the truth, we don't believe 
 
272 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 he would have cared one fig to have fully understood the 
 " physical construction of the rainbow; " the exact depth of the 
 exhausted lunar volcanoes ; or how loner it was ere the litrht 
 from certain stars reached our planet. The single-minded 
 Christian read in these glorious creations only the power and 
 wisdom of God. To him, the rainbow was a gracious pledge 
 of love and mercy, nothing more ; the moon u walking in 
 brightness," talked of his home above the skies ; and the stars 
 ever seemed but rays from the glory of the Crucified ; he saw, 
 nor sighed to see, aught beyond. Simple William ! 
 
 Thus poor little Daisy's mind went into itself, and she would 
 often think herself to sleep about the " Whys?" and "Where- 
 fore's?" dear old Parley has made so plain for us ; and those seed 
 pearls, "Line upon Line," and "Mimpres' Mothers' Conversa- 
 tions," were not feeding craving little spirits in those days. 
 
 Not that the unlettered rustic ever threw over the enquirer 
 the corrosive acid, " don't ask such foolish questions, child ! 
 run away, do ! " He left these displays of enlightenment to the 
 'learned, scientific, and polite;" he knew there were such 
 things as fountains of knowledge, but not for poor people like 
 them ; he had never drank deep, he could not therefore quench 
 her thirst; and one day when, wearied with thought, she came to 
 his side, and resting her little hands on his knee, demanded, — 
 
 " Will you tell me, grandfather, why God ever lets the 
 flowers die ? " 
 
 He exclaimed, patting her fair head, — 
 
 " Bless thy young heart, child ! how much thee will have to 
 learn when thee gets to heaven ! " 
 
 Then, William had some excellent orthodox notions about not 
 liking to give the little thing " too much learning, for fear the 
 family should think as how he was bringing her up above her 
 place, like." He would not have displeased Lady Emily by such 
 a crime for the world ! She was so kind, and took so much 
 notice of Daisy, often giving her childish story-books — the best 
 to be had in those days — and William was grateful, though he 
 evinced his feelings in rather a cramped way, inasmuch as the 
 large-hearted woman, of whom he stood in such wholesome fear, 
 would not have dreamed of interfering to prevent the child being 
 educated to the best of his means, for she took a warm interest 
 in her ; the extreme loveliness of her orphan face, the elegance 
 of her rounded limbs, awakening her admiration, simultaneously 
 
daisy's story. ] 273 
 
 with the old man's fears, and he never cared about her mingling 
 with the village children " after school." Neither did Daisy 
 herself desire companionship. When her two-syllable lesson was 
 got by rote, she spent her time in tending her "lambs," as she 
 called the flowers ; and oh ! her love for them ! it was poetry's 
 essence. She would talk to them about God, w who made them 
 such beauties," bending her sweet head down to them, as if lis- 
 tening to their spirit-whispers. To her they were things of life 
 and joy. She went to sleep with them in her hand, wept over 
 them when they withered. Perhaps living, as from her birth 
 she had done, among them, had given her mind its dreamy, 
 spiritual turn. She breathed an atmosphere of beauty, and what 
 wonder if she imbibed its tone ! 
 
 The only thing that had power to wean her from her " lambs" 
 in the bright summer-time was the sound of music brought into 
 the village by some itinerant musician ; then she would bound 
 towards the gate, and stand with her full eye fixed, pensive, 
 and humid ; her beautifully [modeled lip tremulous with the 
 intensity and depth of every varying emotion, as the melody 
 changed from grave to gay. 
 
 Sweet Daisy! methinks I see thee now, as of yore. That 
 flushing cheek, that brow of deep, but childish thought, those 
 wavy locks, gently lifted by the summer breeze, as it played 'mid 
 the shining bands. 
 
 Sweet Daisy ! What must thy beauty be now, if 'twas all we 
 dream of an angel's here ! 
 
 No doubt her eager delight at the rude melody would have ex- 
 cited a contemptuous smile from the accomplished season belle, 
 whose ear had been accustomed to correct, scientific displays of 
 music-power ; ? so accustomed, indeed, that she thought "nothing" 
 of talking incessantly, if not too loud to be well bred, during the 
 whole performance of some marvellous piece, to master which 
 the poor performer had spent a whole hecatomb of hours, and 
 fondly calculated on winding up his audience to electrifying 
 pitch ; but better days have dawned, and the majority of our 
 readers will sympathize at once with Daisy and the performer. 
 The sylph-like figure of the child decided William that she 
 would never be able to " go out to service to earn her living," 
 when he was " dead and gone ;" he therefore decided on appren- 
 ticing her to the dressmaking and millinery business, which not 
 only seemed to him an easy way of getting her living, but also 
 
 T 
 
274 A LIFE -LONG STORY. 
 
 secured the little sunbeam near him, whom he frequently vowed 
 was the "best housekeeper in the world;" beside, he "should 
 like her to close his eyes whenever it pleased God to take him." 
 Poor old man ! He did for the best, and little did he dream that 
 the very means he took to keep his sunbeam near him, would 
 bring down a cloud of grief, and end in dark despair. It is often 
 thus with the best concerted human plans. Overturned ! over* 
 turned ! Why ! — " thou shah know hereafter." 
 
 At the age of thirteen, Daisy was duly victimised for two years 
 as apprentice to Miss Frillins, the Frillins of the village, who, 
 though she was no worse than more stylish principals, such as 
 Madame Johns or Ma'mselle Delille, was quite as bad in the 
 exaction of a vast amount of labour in an inconceivably small 
 space of time, from the hands of her M young ladies ;" and for 
 several consecutive weeks, at the gay season, when race and 
 subscription balls, concerts, open-air breakfasts, etc., etc., de- 
 luged the county, she would extort sixteen, eighteen, twenty 
 hours' work from" them. Little Daisy soon began to droop under 
 this Legree system : the transition from the atmosphere of 
 flowers and purity to the close work-room, the incessant sitting, 
 the hurry and drive to accomplish orders that at these times 
 poured in, " to be done and sent home immediately," told fear- 
 fully on the body and mind, both too tender for such an ordeal ; 
 and" at the end of ten months, after vainly striving against the 
 inroads of languor and pain, she was obliged to give up all 
 employment, and could do nothing but sit and watch her grand- 
 father tend his flowers. 
 
 " I be sadly afeard I'm agoin' to lose my poor Daisy, too, my 
 lady," said William one day to his kind mistress, wiping away 
 the tears with the back of his hand, as he answered her inquiry 
 for the child's health, " I be sadly afeard she is agoin' after the 
 others in the old churchyard, my lady !" 
 
 "You must not be desponding, my good William," replied the 
 high-born woman, in a kindly tone, " I will go to see her, and 
 if she is as ill as your fears seemed to imply, I will send Dr. 
 Armstrong; but I am sure you will keep up your spirits for 
 Daisy's sake." 
 
 "God bless and reward your ladyship for all your goodness to 
 me, and them that's gone ! " fervently responded the old man, 
 and as Lady Emily turned towards the cottage, a tear dimming 
 her eye, he leant his white head on the top of his spade, and 
 
DAISY'S 6T0RY. 275 
 
 from the depths of his overflowing heart went up the prayer for a 
 shower of blessings on that gentle woman's path. 
 
 At the door of the lodge Lady Emily involuntarily paused to 
 look on the sweet picture "its interior presented. Before a chair, 
 whereon a collection of rare flowers lay scattered, as if arranging 
 them into something like order, on her knees was Daisy, who 
 though now nearly fourteen, looked scarcely more than twelve, so 
 innocent and chil'dish was the fair face peering out from a mass 
 of golden hair, which lassitude had suffered to float wavily almost 
 to her waist ; her eyes, of the softest hazel, wore that dreamy, 
 spiritual expression which brings into the gazer's mind thoughts 
 of heaven ; but when any passing word or event touched the 
 tremulous chord of feeling, they would kindle and dilate, 
 throwing into the countenance a radiance from the indwelling 
 fineness of spirit, that reminded the beholder of those vases 
 painted by the Chinese that require inner illumination ere their 
 exquisite penciling becomes visible. 
 
 Lady Emily paused to contemplate the cottage child ; weariness 
 had given to* her figure a touching grace ; and as she leant over 
 her flowers, unconscious of any observant eye, she seemed to the 
 gazer too fair and fragile to battle with life's stern realities. 
 Gently tapping, Lady Emily entered the little room. 
 Daisy rose, blushing, to receive her distinguished guest, and 
 placed a chair, enquiring as she did so : — 
 
 " Shall I run and call grandfather, my lady ? — he is only in 
 the garden." 
 
 u No !" answered Lady Emily, " my visit is to you to-day ; he 
 told me you were not quite well, and I am come to see if I can do 
 anything for you ; sit down near me", she added kindly, " and tell 
 me all you feel." 
 
 Obeying the considerate command, Daisy sat down, tears 
 springing into her eyes as she said : — 
 
 " Oh my lady ! how kind of you to take such notice of a poor 
 girl like me that isn't worthy of it ! " 
 
 " You must not think that, my good child," responded the 
 noble woman, in the softest tone, "you know we ought all to be 
 kind to one another ; our blessed Lord left us an example, and 
 we cannot be his disciples if we take no interest in our suffering 
 fellow- creatures ; tell me, then, where you feel pain," and she laid 
 her jewelled hand encouragingly on the meek young head at her 
 
 side. 
 
 t 2 
 
27G A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 Re-assured by the manner and words, Daisy answered, " I 
 havn't any pain, my Lady, I only feel very tired indeed, as if I 
 must lay down and die ; and if it wasn't for dear grandfather, 
 who would cry for me sadly, I would like to sleep in the quiet 
 grave beside my mother." 
 
 Lady Emily asked many questions, and elicited from the 
 child's replies the fact, that she was now suffering the re-action 
 of her over-tasked energies, and at her departure she promised to 
 " come again very soon." Consulting first the honest servitor, 
 and then her husband, the thoughtful Lady Emily proposed that 
 Daisy should be transplanted at once to their house, placed 
 under the care and training of the housekeeper, and as soon as 
 her strength was sufficiently restored, be instructed by her present 
 maid, in order to take her place about her own person, Mrs. 
 Simpkins, the said lady's-maid, being about to be transferred to 
 Miss Arlington on her marriage — then on the tapis. 
 
 This arrangement was hailed with gratitude by William, who 
 saw in it an earnest of his grandchild's future maintenance, when 
 he should be gathered to his fathers ; and as Lady Emily begged 
 him to come " whenever he liked," and always to dine at the 
 great house on Sunday's, Daisy left the peaceful cottage, shedding 
 fewer tears than she would have shed but for the kind con- 
 sideration shown towards her. 
 
 The entire change, healthy, active employment, and nutritious 
 food soon restored the weakly maid to vigour, and at the end of 
 the year she accompanied the family in their stated visit to 
 London ! Never did a purer creature enter that head quarter of 
 iniquity than Elinor Snow. 
 
 Shortly after the above migration, the youngest son and pet 
 of Lady Emily — a fine, promising lad — came from Harrow to 
 spend some time with his family, previous to his departure to 
 one of the Universities to be duly qualified, or to qualify himself 
 for the Church ; his maternal grandfather, a noble Earl, having 
 twenty-nine livings in his gift, the richest of which he prudently 
 reserved for the youngest, or stupidest sons in the Bamborough 
 family, who he piously hoped would be mysteriously w moved to 
 the office" the moment they had imbibed quantum suJHcit of 
 learning : and as it is just possible our reader may not have any 
 idea of the no end " curiosities of literature," the said imbibing 
 grasped and grappled with in those dark ages, suppose we give a 
 passing glance at its most remarkable traits, it may not only 
 
DAISY S STORY. 27/ 
 
 amuse, but be a source of rejoicing that "matters are managed 
 better now-a-days." 
 
 u Facer e aliquid ad veram pietatem feu doctrinam, Grated potius 
 quam olid lingua loqui" said a wise man, centuries ago ; and 'we 
 hope we may not pain the feelings of our fair readers by giving 
 a translation as well as we can, — 
 
 (For) " it cannot be supposed that speaking or writing in the 
 Greek language, in preference to any other, can have any pecu- 
 liar efficacy in promoting the interests of true piety or 
 learning." 
 
 Now, malgre this sentiment had been propounded and insisted 
 on by many good men, whose grief it was to see such undue pro- 
 portions of precious seed-time wasted in the acquisition of ancient 
 knowledge, which neither fed the flame of piety nor promoted 
 the interests of the highest learning, these young candidates for 
 honours were expected to exercise the most unheard-of industry 
 in the said acquisition, ere they could attain distinction ; to wit, 
 an incalculable amount of knowledge about heathen gods and 
 
 CI O 
 
 goddesses, In the original, imbibed simultaneously with the art 
 of smoking, drinking, and gambling ! 
 
 Ditto of ancient geography : giving the exact position of the 
 site of Heliopolis, or any other City of the Sun ; measuring, to a 
 hair's-breadth, the dimensions of the famous fountain formed by 
 the kick of the winged Pegasus, with the art of shooting, racing, 
 and " boxing made easy ! " 
 
 Ditto of "doing" Greek hexameters into anti-Saxon rhyme, 
 (emphatically small " curiosities of literature "), and confiding 
 tradesmen at the same time ! 
 
 Translating the tragedies of Euripides into uncouth English, 
 and the reversionary interest of their estates (those who had^any) 
 into the hands of Jews ! 
 
 But we really cannot follow these young heroes ' ; fast" enough 
 in their career at these seats of ancient learning. We must pause, 
 leaving our readers to be the best judges of their capabilities for 
 solemn and responsible offices, and finish with one laughable 
 anecdote demonstrative of the extreme utility of these kinds of 
 learning : — 
 
 '•Eustace, can you tell what hail is?" enquired a bright- 
 faced little girl of her brother, just emerged from one of the 
 Universities with the degree of M.A., strong in the classics. and 
 self-importance. 
 
278 A LIFE-LONG STORY". 
 
 " Drops of water frozen, you little goose! '' answered M.A., 
 laughing. 
 
 " Then, what is snow. Eustace ? " demanded the child. 
 
 '" Drops of frozen water too, to be sure," M. A. responded. 
 
 M Then, why is one soft and the other hard ? "What makes 
 them so different? " asked his tormentor. 
 
 " By Jove, I don't know I Do you, Miss Sharp-pins ? " ex- 
 claimed M.A. 
 
 " Yes, yes ! " shouted the delighted child, clapping her hands, 
 u nurse told me all about it, and what makes the wind blow, and 
 the rainbow ! " 
 
 M.A. declares he must u invest n in a catechism of " Common 
 Things." which soon supplants Anacreon and Ovid at his usual 
 hours of study, viz., at mid-day, in bed, luxuriating in solitude 
 and meerschaum ! 
 
 But the early youth of Charles Arlington bade fair for a bright 
 meridian. Fond of study, quiet and thoughtful, with talents of 
 the highest order, added to great generosity of disposition, he 
 seemed well calculated to shine in the profession chosen for him 
 by his doating mother. 
 
 On the first morning of his arrival home, the youth was 
 struck with the innocent loveliness of the child-servant, as she 
 rose from her knees at family prayer, and he made many inquiries 
 concerning her of Lady Emily, who spoke with all the warmth of 
 kindness she felt for the orphan. A few hours later and he was 
 in the housekeeper's room, with a bunch of flowers which he had 
 brought to introduce himself, and he could not have chosen a 
 better medium. 
 
 " Lady Emily tells me you are very fond of flowers," said 
 Charles, as Elinor rose, blushing, and " I have brought you a 
 few — much better than those," he added, pointing to a glass of 
 withered beauties ; " will you allow these to take their place, and 
 I will often bring you more : I doat on flowers." 
 
 " How beautiful they are!" involuntarily exclaimed the girl, as 
 she recognised her old friends, raising for the first time her meek 
 eves, beaming with that peculiar expression for which we can 
 find no nearer definition than lighting up from within; but she 
 immediately added, " Does Lady Emily know you have brought 
 
 them, sir ? Will she like you to give them to a poor girl } like 
 
 ?»> 
 me : 
 
daisy's story. 279 
 
 This question, prompted by an instinctive sense of propriety, 
 spoke at once to the heart of the generous youth, and he replied, 
 with a bright smile, " it was such a trifle that I did not ask her, 
 but I certainly will, and bring you some very often." 
 
 True to his* word, he constantly supplied the room with choice 
 flowers, all unconsciously to himself giving affection with them ; 
 and in the orphan's gratitude, love meekly blended, though* not 
 one word had been spoken, nor one love-look exchanged. 
 
 Short-sighted ladv-mother ! How could she contact two such 
 young, inexperienced beings ? 
 
 True, she looked upon them as children ; she knew the unde- 
 filed purity of the orphan's heart ; she rejoiced in the open, 
 noble character of her favourite boy, while the disparity of rank 
 presented to her a barrier nought could leap over, or throw 
 down, and if she thought at all of his question, — 
 
 M Mother, your little waiting-maid seems quite as fond of 
 flowers as I am ; may I take her a few sometimes ?" it was only 
 to admire the kindness and thoughtfulness of the action ; and 
 rejoice that he could find pleasure in such a simple act, at an 
 age when the majority of striplings were caricaturing manhood, 
 by an extra profuse use of " Latakia," a conventional drawl, 
 and excessive nonentity»Vm. 
 
 Poor Elinor ! just as she loved and looked upon the flowers, 
 so she loved and looked upon him who brought them ; no 
 thought of the future clouded her mind ; she never sought to 
 know whether he, who, by trifling acts of kindness had planted 
 in her unsophisticated heart a seed that had taken root, striking 
 out fibres in that rich soil, soon to overrun all beside, ever gave 
 one thought to her, or knew how every pulse quickened as his 
 footsteps fell on its pure depths. She knew, nor sought to know, 
 aught of him beyond her own ideal world peopled with his 
 image, unconscious that the chains now so light would some day 
 become iron and eat into her soul. 
 
 And Charles ? Prompted at first by the desire of giving 
 pleasure, so natural to the young and generous, he had simply 
 gratified his felings. Lady Emily's account of the orphan ap- 
 pealed to his romantic nature, and interested him ; and as day 
 by day he saw fresh traits of the innocence of her character, his 
 interest deepened till at length, all unconsciously, he found her 
 fair young image blended with, and looking out upon, all his 
 boy-dreams of future glory and bliss. 
 
280 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 Ah ! how frequently these dreams — pooh-pooh'd as ' ' boyish" 
 and " childish" — colour and influence the after-life ! nay, colour 
 Eternity ! 
 
 Never, by word or look, had either of these ingenuous beings 
 betrayed the secret nestling deep within, while happy months 
 flew by, and the departure of Charles drew near. 
 
 On the morning of his departure he sought the well known 
 room, and hastily placing two or three of her favourite flowers 
 on a table near which she sat working, he said, " I am going 
 away, Elinor, for a long time, and 1 have brought you a few 
 flowers — perhaps the last I may ever bring you. I hope you will 
 not forget me, and will be as happy as I wish and pray you may 
 be/' He did not wait for any reply, but casting a look full of 
 love on the face of the agitated girl, he left the room. 
 
 For some time after he left, Elinor sat statue-like, then tenderly 
 gathering up the last gift of love, she pressed the fragile treasures 
 to her quivering lip, placed them in her little trunk, and con- 
 tinued her work, none reading in her meek eye and paler cheek 
 aught of the pure passion smouldering within. 
 
 Lady Emily's health becoming a source of apprehension to her 
 family, she was induced to visit Malta, whither Elinor accom- 
 panied her ; and as Charles spent much of his leisure at the 
 seat of his grandfather, which afforded him more amusement 
 than the quiet maternal home, some time passed away ere they 
 met again ; and what a change that period had wrought ! 
 
 The pure-hearted boy had grown into the bold young man- 
 all the " fine gold" of promise that strataed his early character 
 had been smelted down in the crucible of ancient learning, and 
 fused with grosser metal. The freshness and beauty of those 
 sacred feelings that nestle in the breast of generous youth had 
 become sullied, and when he again met the subdued glance of 
 his " old flower-girl" as he jocosely termed Elinor, there was an 
 expression in the passionate gaze of his beautiful eye that 
 brought the blush of offended innocence into her face, and then 
 receding, left her deadly pale. 
 
 From that moment Elinor determined, if possible, never to see 
 him ; that look desolated and scattered the bright mosaic of her 
 ideal world, and opened up a gulf of woe ; and as the delicate 
 leaves of a rose-bud, which has been carelessly plucked and 
 thrown down to be trodden on, fold closer round the crushed 
 heart they erst shielded from the storm, so, over the ruins of 
 
daisy's story. 281 
 
 her entrancing dream she drew the veil of purity — pressing 
 its many shrouding folds closely on her heart, from whence she 
 resolved to wrench the image which had so long reigned there 
 its imperial lord. 
 
 Ah ! what a moral grandness did that resolve display ! what a 
 refinement of soul, whispering such a sacrifice was necessary ! 
 No mother's gentle voice of warning or encouragement! no faith- 
 ful hand to wipe away the burning tears ! no warm, loving breast 
 whereon to lay the brow, as the dew of sympathy falls on the 
 parched soul. 
 
 The admiration of Charles was only increased by her evident 
 avoidance. In vain he sought an opportunity to pour into her 
 ear the love that was becoming every day wilder and stronger. 
 Not that even, in idea, he then had any intention of polluting her 
 with the words of unholy passion ; he had not yet cast off all 
 generosity of youth, and respect for virtue. No man becomes a 
 profligate at one bound ; step by step he reaches that goal, from 
 which he looks back on all life's purposes counteracted, its 
 noblest and best aspirations trampled on and destroyed by the 
 iron heel of brazen-fronted Vice ; and what devastation and 
 anguish attend its footsteps! — ,; grey hairs brought down with 
 sorrow to the grave ; " shame's burning spot scorching the cheek 
 of youth ; the desolated hearth and homestead ; the tale of un- 
 told suffering in the meek mother-eye ; the but why 
 
 describe a progeny too fearfully numerous and well-known ! 
 Oh, what a scene the life of the profligate presents in his (some- 
 times how short !) journey to that Eternity where " every man 
 shall be judged by the deeds done in the body ! " 
 
 A few months after the return of her favorite son to College, 
 Lady Emily, who had long been declining, died almost suddenly, 
 and Elinor lost her kind protectress, the establishment being 
 immediately broken up. She therefore decided on returning to 
 her grandfather, but was strongly advised by her ci-divant friend, 
 the housekeeper, to apply for employment at one of the " fashion- 
 able West-End houses," where her " long services in Lady Emily's 
 family would be e. recommendation." 
 
 No doubt this was but sorry advice for the friendless, inexpe- 
 rienced girl ; but in addition to her real " liking " for her, Mrs. 
 Goodenough had private reasons for riot wishing her to take a 
 11 fresh place." No one more duly appreciated, or encroached on 
 the good taste and skill the little milliner displayed, not only in 
 
282 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 her art, but in making-up and remodeling sundry suspicious 
 remnants of lace and ribbon, dignified with the name of " dress- 
 caps," than the worthy woman ; and she did not like the idea of 
 these supplies being cut off, which would be the case unless 
 Elinor located in London, where she had already domi- 
 ciled herself in a snug coffee and eating-house — set up for life 
 out of her savings and " perquisites " during her servitude in 
 Lady Emily's family, and where she fully intended to be sought 
 in marriage by the obese butler, who called the Earl of Heedless 
 master, but who in reality was master himself. 
 
 When the sad intelligence of the death of his kind mistress 
 reached William Snow, he wrote to his grandchild requesting 
 her to return to him, as he was " kept on " till the place was let, 
 u and if you can find »» little work just to help, dear Daisy, we 
 shall get on well enough ; He that took away one friend will 
 raise us up another," said the trusting old spirit ; and Elinor had 
 decided to yield to the wishes thus expressed, when the good 
 woman before-named over-ruled this intention, by representing 
 in glowing colours, what a a miserable life she would lead, shut 
 up all day stitching and slaving, and never earning her salt after 
 all," for she " knew very well what the village of Dale was ; 
 whereas, by following her advice, Elinor may be able to get a 
 nice little business of her own. She would recommend her to 
 all her friends, and by and by she could have her grandfather to 
 live with her, when he was past work." 
 
 We need not adduce all the items of special pleading, which 
 appeared to the young girl so very plausible, or the vivid remem- 
 brances roused in her heart of the weary days and nights of toil 
 that had reduced her almost to death's door, when the kindness 
 of Lady Emily rescued her ; or the fond hope held out of com- 
 forting the declining days of her grandfather ; suffice it, that like 
 many a country novice, Elinor thought the streets of London 
 were " paved with gold," and that she would be " sure to get 
 on " in the vast emporium of trade, where there seemed work 
 and employ for all, and to spare ; thus overborne by the influ- 
 ences from without and within, her first intention of returning to 
 Dale was set aside, and under the auspices of Mrs. Goodenough, 
 she engaged herself for six months to a very respectable dress- 
 maker and milliner ; and as work was termed " slack " the first 
 few weeks, only twelve hours' labour — accoPwDing to English 
 Law — was exacted from the employed, she felt rejoiced that she 
 
daisy's story. 283 
 
 had listened to advice, and at the expiration of her engagement 
 would have her usual ,; nice little sum " to send her dear grand- 
 father. 
 
 But, alas ! poor, sanguine Elinor ! By and by the yearly 
 sacrifices in the temple of Fashion, named the " Season," com- 
 menced ; orders " to be done immediately " hourly poured in ; 
 the principal of the establishment, unable to engage extra hands — 
 her own being tied by the trade-paralysing, long-credit system — 
 exacted of her work-women, first sixteen, then eighteen, and 
 twenty hours consecutive labour! Vainly the skinny nervous 
 -fingers, the weary and sunken eye, the drooping dejected figure 
 appealed ; the work must be done, or custom lost. 
 
 " The Countess of Vanity would never forgive her if she kept 
 her waiting ! " ' + 
 
 " Lady Pride would take away her patronage if the ball dresse3 
 were not sent before such a time ! " 
 
 • ; Mrs. Heartless wanted her bonnet and mantle in time for 
 morning service, and if they worked till the bells struck out it 
 must be done ! " Thus out of the thews and sinews, souls and 
 bodies of these victims, was wrung the attire wherewith the 
 votaries of fashion decked themselves for the show ; and when, 
 yielding at last to Nature's stern demand for repose, the hot and 
 strained eye-lid dropped for one moment over the blood-shot eye, 
 the tremulous hand stood still from very powerlessness to move, 
 or the exhausted energies found relief in a blessed faint, bringing 
 at least forgetfulness,* exciting drugs, artfully introduced into 
 
 * " The fourth week it was much the same, till Friday, when we com- 
 menced work, as usual, at eight o'clock, and went on till between four and 
 five on the following morning. It was near five when we went to our bed- 
 rooms. During the day we had our meals as usual. At midnight we had 
 a cup of coffee brought us. I am sure something improper was put into it 
 to keep us awake, as when we went to bed none of us could sleep, v.hich was 
 invariably the case after taking coffee at midnight; whereas the coffee which 
 was given us those nights when we could retire to bed at eleven or twelve 
 o'clock never produced this effect. The young lady who lay with me said, on 
 the particular morning referred to, ' What shall we do till eight o'clock, as 
 we cannot get to sleep ? ' "We walked about the room till six o'clock, when 
 
 I went out and called upon my sister at . The other young persons 
 
 (with the exception of one who managed to sleep an hour or so) endeavoured 
 to employ themselves, some by writing, others by looking over their boxes, 
 and such -like, till breakfast ; after which we continued working till twelve 
 o'clock. This was Saturday night. Five of us occupied one bedroom. The 
 apartment was very small and close— very close — and not clean. The ceiling; 
 
284 jl life-long story. 
 
 some domestic beverage, were given them, producing a terribly 
 restless and fevered state of nerve, and they plied the needle 
 wdth half-maddened rapidity, till the reaction began. Then — 
 oh, what a sad picture ! 
 
 Look at those white, haggard faces, moving, spectre-like, rest- 
 lessly up and down the small, dirty, stifling closets, called sleep- 
 ing apartments, where only one can dress at a time, and where 
 none can stand quite upright ! Look at those brows bound with 
 wet rag,* in the vain attempt to still the fevered throbbing and 
 the scalding agony of the drugged, over-excited brain. 
 
 Mark here the sunken, lustreless eye of spirit-broken dogged- 
 ness — there the glittering glare of reckless despair! 
 
 Listen to that wailing voice calling'piteously on the long-moul- 
 dered mother ! 
 
 Hark to that half-shriek, half-oath exclamation, " ANI thing 
 rather than this ! " 
 
 As we have state J, poor Elinor, ignorant "of the excessive 
 labour extorted from the slaves of the needle, had engaged her- 
 self for six months, stipulating for " Sundays to herself;" this 
 request was readily acceded to, and at first respected ; pleasant 
 
 was so low, that when I stood upright, tip-toe, I could, by a slight addi- 
 tional movement of the body upwards, touch it with my hand. We were 
 so crowded, moreover, that we could not all move about and dress at one 
 time ; and what made it still worse, it adjoined another room in which two 
 others slept. These young persons were so cramped for space, that they 
 literally could scarcely move. They were obliged to have the door kept 
 open that led into our room, or they must have been stifled, as there was no 
 other way of their getting air. We were thus, as it were, seven persons 
 sleeping in one apartment. In their little room there was no fireplace ; in 
 ours there was, but there was a chest of drawers against it, for which there 
 was no space in any other part of the room." — Condition of this oppressed 
 class of England's Daughters. By Johx Lilwall, Honorary Secretary 
 of the Early Closing Association. 
 
 *"I made up my mind that I would not work later that night, come what 
 would. Indeed, I felt that I could not do another stitch. During the 
 afternoon and evening, as it was, I had to leave the work-room several times, 
 to try to get relief by drinking, and by washing my face and forehead with, 
 cold water. We also had a smelling-bottle on the table, or we never could 
 have kept awake. After retiring to my bedroom, I was in such a feverish 
 state as to be obliged to apply wet linen to my head. On the Sunday morn- 
 ing, when I awoke, my tongue was so swollen that I could not speak. My 
 eyes, also, were so bad that I could not see.'' — Ibid. 
 
daisy's story. 285 
 
 was it to see the young girl wending her way to the one 
 sanctuary of earth, " where there is neither high nor low" in His 
 eye who looks on the heart and judges therefrom. 
 
 After service the intervening hours were spent with her friend 
 the ci-diva.nt housekeeper, who duly congratulated herself upon 
 oeing a religious woman, because she was tolerably punctual in her 
 " going to church always in the mornings," and in imitating her 
 superiors by " staying away" all the rest of the day ; making it 
 a species of half-and-half time, or heaven in the morning and earth 
 in the evening. 
 
 But, alas, for poor Elinor ! and shame to the law that is too weak 
 to protect those who are not strong enough to protect themselves ! 
 soon this God-given day of rest was dragged into the work-Mael- 
 strom, and t many weeks elapsed ere the friends met again — too 
 exhausted, when released for a few hours from toil, to attend to 
 sacred duties, the poor child dress-maker threw herself in help- 
 ess weakness on her comfortless bed, and a short death-like 
 slumber prepared her for the following morning's four o'clock 
 recurring slave-trade.* 
 
 * " I have so recently as within the last few weeks had interviews with se- 
 veral young persons engaged in these businesses, and I have been pained to 
 find frcm the inquiries which I have thus instituted that their present state 
 of suffering and oppression is precisely analogous to that set forth in the 
 startling evidence given before the two special Committees of the House of 
 Lords, and from which your Lordship and the Right Rev. Prelate have se- 
 verally quoted. As one instance of the present enslaved condition of, I will 
 not say all, but a vast number of these young persons, I hold in my hand a 
 statement furnished me by a gentleman that I have long known, oa whose 
 veracity I can rely, and who is nearly related to the would-have-been victim, 
 had she been obliged to continue for any length of time in the employ of the 
 inhuman woman in whose establishment the case occurred. It appears that 
 it is there the custom of the hands (as they are called) to breakfast before 
 commencing their day's labour; and they are expected to be in the work- 
 room by eight o'clock each morning, and, in the regular way, to continue 
 toiling on till eleven o'clock at night, and frequently till twelve, one, and 
 even two o'clock on the following morning. Within the last week or two, 
 these young persons were kept at work during the whole of three successive 
 nights. (Cries of "Name, name.") You will excuse my not acceding to 
 that request, which I would gladly do, but that I should thereby incur the 
 risk of an action for libel — such is the anomaly of the English la'."S. During 
 the period that they were working those three entire nights, one of the 
 young persons asked permission to leave for a few hours to meet her mother, 
 who had come up to town to see her sick son. She was told she might go, 
 but thatthey " quite wondered how she could have the face to ask." She 
 returned about eleven o'clock, not to retire to bed, but to resume her toil in 
 
286 * LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 Many weeks passed in the hot race, but at length a respite to 
 the rush and whirl of business dropped in — in the shape of "Lent," 
 during which ascetic period it was then the fashion for the great 
 world to " keep quiet," and prepare at one and the same time 
 their souls and bodies for the impending avalanche of gaiety and 
 frivolity ; hence, poor Elinor was again at liberty to seek the 
 abode of her friend Mrs. Goodenough. 
 
 " Why, bless my heart ! " exclaimed the latter, as she entered, 
 ** whatever have vou been adorn' to yourself — where is your 
 flesh gone to ? — why, if you ain a perfect skeleton ! do sit down, 
 child, and tell me all about it ! " 
 
 No wonder such exclamations found voice, for the helpless girl 
 was sadly altered ; the nutritious food she had been so long 
 accustomed to, and which seemed needful from the delicacy of her 
 constitution, "had been substituted by course provisions scantily 
 supplied, and hastily swallowed, forbidding the healthy functions 
 their legitimate office,* and hence turned into poison. 
 
 Some explanation having been given, and counsel vouchsafed on 
 the part of her friend, Elinor departed, promising to spend part of 
 the following Sabbath with her j and in pursuance of this promise 
 she had scarcely left her place of senile toil on that day, ere she 
 
 the work-room. This is the last case which has come under my notice, but I 
 have in my possession some six or eight others, differing in detail, indeed, 
 but of an equally aggravated character ; all of which are so many illustra- 
 tions of a state of things which is a foul blot upon the character of the heads 
 of the establishments where this system is carried on, and scarcely less dis- 
 graceful to a country which does not rise as one man, and demand the im- 
 mediate suppression of that inhuman system. I do feel, my Lord, that 
 these oppressed young persons have the strongest possible claim upon the 
 sympathy — I mean the practical sympathy — of the entire English people, 
 more especially because, from the very circumstance of their sex, they are 
 utterly powerless to extricate themselves from the intolerable bondage to 
 which they are exposed." — Mr. Lilwall 
 
 fc u * The first iceehl was there we began work at eight in the morning, and 
 worked till between eleven and twelve o'clock at night. There waa no fixed 
 time for meals ; we had to take them as fast as we could, and return to the 
 work-room directly we had finished. The second week there was a Drawing- 
 room. We worked on Tuesday till twelve o'clock, and on Wednesday we 
 continued at it till between three and four o'clock on the following morning. 
 We then went to bed, but had to begin work again at eight o'clock, and 
 continued at it till twelve. The following day (Friday) we worked from 
 eight till between eleven and twelve o'clock at night. We always break- 
 fasted before we began work — that is, before eight o'clock."— From a case by 
 J. Lilwall, Esq. 
 
DAISY'S STORY. 
 
 heard her name pronounced by a voice that swept and agitated 
 every note of her young heart's diapason, and in a moment the 
 hand of Charles Arlington grasped hers, as he exclaimed, — 
 
 ** Where did you spring from, my charming flower-girl ! How 
 
 long] it is since we met ? It seems an age to me ! But , 
 
 Ah ! I see you have forgotten your old friend," he added in a 
 subdued melancholy voice, as Elinor withdrew her hand, — not 
 before he had exultingly felt it tremble in his grasp like a captive 
 bird, and turned her drooping eye from his ardent gaze, which 
 reminded her of the last time they met, exclaiming — 
 
 " Oh, sir ! please let me go ! what would Lady Emily have 
 said, if she had seen you shaking hands with a poor girl like me 
 in the street :" 
 
 This suggestive appeal to the memory of his mother, checked 
 for a moment the current of his feelings, and in a tone which 
 long haunted his victim's heart, Charles replied, — 
 
 " I see you have indeed forgotten me, Elinor ! I will not 
 distress you by my presence ; good-bye for ever !" and respect- 
 fully raising his hat, he cast on her a look of tender reproach, and 
 past on ; while — full of self-condemnation for her ingratitude (as 
 she thought) towards her former friend — the poor girl turned, 
 intending to ask his forgiveness, and entreat him not to think 
 she had forgotten him, when she saw he had been joined by 
 a friend, and they were both looking after her : hastily averting 
 her burning face, she hurried towards Mrs. Goodenough's with a 
 
 torn and bleeding heart. 
 
 ?.■> 
 
 " By Jove, Charlie, you would beat old Job out of the field 
 dead ! Do you mean to say you have been pwading heaw for the 
 last two howas to catch a glimpse of that little Madonna-like 
 phiz I" exclaimed voung Viscount Brace to the superb dissipated 
 looking " Charlie.'" 
 
 "Verily, yes! Is she not a lovelv creature?" asked Charlie. 
 
 "Too pale, too zpirituelle for me," responded Viscount; 
 " your Guido faces are not exactly to my taste. I prezcfer a 
 little moav; flesh, and " 
 
 " What an unromantic 'animal you are, Brace !" interrupted 
 Charlie, laughing. " Give me my little Lily, and you may have 
 all the Rubens and Lawrences and Court beauties in the world." 
 
 " But she is so tendbly pale and fragile-looking," persisted 
 Brace. 
 
288 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 Wait a while, my dear fella w, and you will see the colour come 
 back to her face ; and then, by heaven, she is the most angelic 
 creature you ever saw !" answered Charlie. 
 
 " But not for you" observed his chum. " Depend upon it 
 you have nc chance with your nowa?6' gal, Charlie ; she is as 
 cold and insensible to your perfections as " 
 
 "Time will show! "Wait a little!" again interrupted the 
 accomplished youth ; who having long since cast off the restraints 
 of conscience, and crushed the rising promise of his youth, had 
 begun a career of vice in companionship with several others of 
 his stamp, sad indeed. 
 
 u Wait a little. Do you recollect your bet^about the pretty 
 little confectionary girl at Oxford ?" 
 
 "Ton honah, you are too bad," laughed the Viscount. 
 " What a glozciiis parson you will make, if you go on as you 
 have begun. When do you mean to commence a reformation ?" 
 
 u Mums the word !" replied the incipient " teacher," laying his 
 finger gaily on his lip. u I'll have my game out first, and then 
 settle down ' quite proper' to the work of winning souls, as Dr. 
 Culling calls a parson's life." 
 
 "Winning hearts, you mean, you sad dog," rejoined Brace; 
 " or most likely you intend beginning with them, and the oihaws 
 foWaw as a m&ttaw of course." 
 
 " In season and out of season," said Charlie, with an expression 
 of mock-sanctity on his fine features. "Enough of this, by 
 and by. I hate the very 'name of ' orders,' and only wonder 
 what could have induced my poor mother to bind me to a life I 
 dislike, and make a * case' out of such a scapegrace as I am !" 
 
 " Because you were fit for nothing else, you scamp, and you 
 know it," laughed Brace. 
 
 "Because two thousand a-year, and some one to do the work 
 is better than a younger son living on his wits and half-a-crown 
 a-week pocket-money," rejoined Charlie, bitterly. 
 
 " Heaw ! hear !" chimed in Brace. 
 
 " Where are you off to now ?" inquired Charlie ; " where 
 do you dine V 
 
 " With Lady Lovegood, at seven ; early on Sunday, to allow 
 the servants plenty of time to z'.-est, and say their pzrayers, and 
 sing psalms ; since the deaw old soul has been seized with a 
 st?i-oke of piety, she is become so exceedingly good, that she 
 won't allow any of the doaus in the house to be shut aftau? they 
 
"«■ 
 
 DAISYS STORY. 289 
 
 are once opened, because she disapproves of Sunday laba?//," 
 answered his friend, gaily. 
 
 "Which suits your peculiar ideas abundantly well, eh?" de- 
 manded Charles, significantly. 
 
 " All a pack of stuff and nonsense ! I hate this hubbub about 
 Sunday and Monday, as if one day wasn't just as good as 
 another ; but of course I take especial care to ag?/*ee, in toto, 
 with every syllable the fanatic old lady uttaz/.-s. I'm her ' non- 
 such,' you know !" exclaimed Brace. 
 
 "How, for heaven's sake ! do you manage?" asked Charlie, 
 laughing. 
 
 " Oh ! easy as a glove," answered Ernest ; " when she 
 lechaws me on the 'pomps and vanities of this wicked world, 
 and all the sinful lusts of the flesh,' including Sunday Isibaiv, I 
 turn up my eyes, and get up a sigh or two, which she inter- 
 pzi'ets into manifest tokens of ■ g^-ace,' and a sign that I shall 
 soon be lionized at Exeter Hall as a living ' specimen ' of 
 saintship ! I won her heart the other day, and betta?',* still, a 
 cheque to pay a bill that threatened the liberty of the subject, 
 by steadily ^refusing to allow her slow hutlaw to open a bottle of 
 soda watatff, because I didn't appzcove of Sunday \abaw !" 
 
 u Capital ! excellent !" exclaimed Charlie, highly delighted, 
 adding. ,; you must positively go down with me to Lucre, to pre- 
 side at my induction. What a sensation we shall make ! You 
 shall do the ' grace ' with the dowagers, and I will get up all my 
 impromptu piety for the lambs of my flock. "Won't the parish 
 soon ring with the praises of ; that excellent young man, the new 
 Rector, so devoted ! so heavenly minded !" 
 
 '* To sav nothing of his beautv!" laughed Ernest. 
 
 u O ! that as a matter of course." answered Charles, in the 
 same gay strain ; • Isn't he a sweet young man, aunt?' asks some 
 verdant country Hebe of a venerable spinster, who elevates her 
 pious eyes and hands, exclaiming, — 
 
 " ' Too good and beautiful for this vain world, child !' ' 
 
 u I do believe, Charlie, that you were made a parson to ipicove 
 the old saying, 'the neaiaw the church, the farther from ' " 
 
 "Softly: softly! most immaculate sir," interrupted Charlie, 
 " I'm not a whit worse than " 
 
 " That tezrible ieWaw Slangsby ? " interrupted Brace, in his 
 turn. '• 0, no, that you are not! he was the scourge of the 
 
 u 
 
290 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 family, and his poaio mother's perpetual nightmare j and so they 
 sent him to take or daws !" 
 
 '•You don't mean to say that bullying fella/* is made a parson! 
 Why, he was at Harrow with me, and was the regular black sheep 
 of the Form — he narrowly escaped being expelled, and was 
 < plucked ' like a goose 1" exclaimed the virtuous Charlie, in- 
 dignantly. 
 
 " True as the light," answered Brace, " and our old ; dodge * 
 Alexander is in fow it too ; he knocked up a jolly zyow, and 
 swore no one should exau: make hxm stand up hefoaiv his ftriends 
 with a lie in his wight hand, but he was obliged to buckle to at last !" 
 
 " How did they get over him, then ?" inquired Charlie. 
 
 *"0, his family attacked him in his most vulnerable part, and 
 
 made his taking or daws the condition upon which they would 
 
 allow him to marry his beautiful cousin, Alice Yaughan, to whom 
 
 he was passionately attached. * Wasn't he a thorough jolly I 
 
 * Conscientious Bishop Burnet, in his Remarks on Ordination, declared 
 that it was one of his ,; greatest trials," and gave him the " deepest pain," to 
 have " to ordain so many ungodly men for the ministry." Did truth ever 
 need a rampart behind which to shelter herself, could a stouter one be 
 thrown up ? and, lest it should be imagined that these characters, Slangsby 
 and Alexander, and the circumstances related are improvised from the cells 
 of Fancv, the writer begs to state they are facts, leaving the cap to be 
 •worn by him whom it fits. Moreover, there is another now " preparing for 
 the church," who, from his pre-eminence in profligacy, is entitled to figure 
 with them ; one who, in early manhood, has ruined his constitution, blasted 
 his character, and involved himself in disgraceful pecuniary transactions by 
 a career of vice, and yet who is only " waiting to pass" ere he is u moved" 
 as an "ambassador " for the King of kings ! He will read this tale. Oh ! 
 that he may recognize the portrait, and pause ere he " treasures up to him- 
 self wrath against the day of wrath," by taking the step meditated. Be- 
 wailing this hopeful son's'immorality to the writer, his mother remarked,— 
 " I only hope Robert will leave off all these sad doings when he gets into 
 the church '." 
 
 " Why not ' leave ' the idea of entering the church ? ' was suggested. 
 
 " Oh dear, no ! exclaimed the bewailing mother, evidently assailed in her 
 
 most sensitive part ; " the living is in the family, and worth several hundreds 
 
 a-vear, but my eldest son doesn't want it, and George is in the army, so 
 
 Robert must have it. A very good man is doing the duty for him till he 
 
 Pa Here is a melancholy specimen of a system of '-'preaching to live!" 
 What benefit is it that "heterodox »' evangelists are rousing the slumbering 
 national piety, when our venerable "mother" permits such polluted hands 
 to touch the sacred ark ! 
 

 
 ' daisy's story. 291 
 
 and' such a dancer! Gec'eenwood tells me he has given up all 
 worldly amusements except waltzing ; he met him and his 
 elegant wife last Curismas at the Dallingford's, and he was the most 
 indefatigable whirler of the pawty." 
 
 " Well ! let him dance," replied Charlie, listlessly, u I never 
 shall when I am thoroughly installed. I hear ball-going, dancing 
 clergymen are unpopular, and I am determined to be ■ popular,' 
 though it will never be as a preacher." 
 
 " Ay, ay ! you will be popukm-, my fine fellah, take my word 
 iow it," laughed Ernest, " Lucre is just the place for you. 
 Talk, about your uncle Lord Wiseman, and your cousin her Gzt-ace 
 of Belgwavia, and the work is done without your striking a 
 blow fow it ; and if you throw in the little make-weight of a jolly 
 dinna?./.; now and then you will go up like a socket !" 
 
 "But how about the sermonizing ?" laughed Charlie, much 
 amused at the graphic eloquence of his noble chum. 
 
 "Oh. hang the sermons!" returned Brace, "you will only 
 pweach sparingly, and can get all sorts and sizes, from foo.w- 
 pence to a shilling and upwards, according to the quality, as 
 thousands of your stamp do !" 
 
 " Any one would imagine you contemplated a ' go in,' " observed 
 Charlie, " why not have a shy at one of your father's " 
 
 " Not I !" interposed the young noble, "the army for me." 
 
 " And you can but fall back upon one of the Earl's gifts, when 
 you are drummed out of that ! eh ?" gaily remarked Charlie. 
 
 "No, no, by Jove ! I wouldn't be such a sneaking parson as 
 that buffoon Yaldens, if you would p?6*omise me Canterbury 
 to-morrow ; what exaw I am, no sham for me !" answered 
 Brace. 
 
 "Oh, most virtuous and discreetest youth!" exclaimed Charlie 
 in a tone of mock admiration; "if you don't arrive at a Field 
 Marshal's baton as soon as your upper Up is fledged, what an 
 ungrateful country you will serve !" 
 
 ■And you to a Bishopric, as ( beauty of holiness,' eh? O, but 
 I say old fella/a ! suppose it should come into fashion iow all the 
 sermons to be submitted to the different bishops of the dioceses, 
 as plays are to the Lord Chamberlain, what a pretty fig<m* you 
 would cut, and what a jolly lot of stuff would meet their delighted 
 gaze !" 
 
 "No fear!" replied the other, "there are plenty of guardians 
 of public morals without such an innovation as you suggest. 
 
 u2 
 
292 A LTFE-LONG STOUT. 
 
 Beside, I bet ten to one my productions would be as good any 
 dav as Slangsby's, Alexander's, Valdens', and a whole host of 
 others !" 
 
 "I heard that canting old psalm-singing Dr. Culling tell 
 Lady Lovegood the other evening, that the reason why ptoeach in g 
 is so inefficient in the present day, is ' because of the unfitness ot 
 the generality qf those put into the ministz'.-y,' " and he named 
 Yaldens and a score of others, adding, — 
 
 "If the Mastaio should suddenly come into his temple as he 
 did of old, surely He would say now as he did then, * take these 
 things hence, make not my Fathers house a house of 'merchandise. ,' 
 
 " The impertinent old hypocrite !*' exclaimed Charlie, ll and 
 what did you say, Brace ?" 
 
 " I was obliged to be mum because of her pious ladyship, but 
 I could have blown him off the coast with his canting and 
 czroaking, he would set a nation together by the ea?';.?," 
 answered Viscount. 
 
 " Didn't you favour him with a look of righteous indignation?" 
 asked Charlie. 
 
 "Moato than my commission's worth,'^ responded Viscount, 
 with a shrug of the shoulders ; " he is a prime favorite with 
 Lady Lovegood ; his anti-carnal conversation fans the flame of 
 her piety when 'tis at a low ebb, and he zt-elishes her snug little 
 dinners, washed down with iced champagne ; a regular loaves 
 and fishes monger, or I'm no judge." 
 
 '* No doubt of that," remarked Charlie, listlessly drawing from 
 his vest a watch, much less than the old coins, lockets, amulets, 
 and other trumpery suspended to it, and peering with half- closed 
 eyes into its wee face, exclaiming, " I must be off to my Lily, or I 
 shall lose my chance ! a propos, where can I get a bouquet to- 
 day ? Flowers will win the way to her heart, if anything will. I 
 don't know what lovers would do without this staple commodity ; 
 they are the past, present, and future of the verb to love." 
 
 " Where do you dine ?" asked Ernest. " Will you go with 
 me to Zion House ; her pious ladyship will duly appreciate your 
 
 reverence 
 
 ?" 
 
 '.' No, no, thank you ! Dine, did you say ? Goth ! Vandal ! 
 What should I dine from but my Lily's smiles !" exclaimed 
 Charlie, gaily. 
 
 "And a spare dinnatc at your club, as you are &bondJide 
 twaxellaw" rejoined Brace, in the same strain. 
 
STORY. 
 
 29^ 
 
 After a few more equally important questions and replies, these 
 embryos — one of a teacher " moved to the office," and the other 
 of a legislator, — parted ; and we confess ourselves unable to decide, 
 leaving it rather to our fair readers to do so, whether the remark 
 of the illustrious Roman, formerly applied to Sir W. Vane, would, 
 or would not have been equally applicable to each of these 
 heroes, — 
 
 " His instructors were indeed to be envied* who, at vast 
 expense, had made him so foolish." 
 
 On his return to town, a few days previous to the meeting just 
 recorded, Charles had "merely looked in" on Mrs. Goodenough, 
 ostensibly to enquire for the well-being of the old domestic, who 
 " doated upon him," but in reality to learn something about Elinor, 
 whom he had never been able to forget, though, to do him justice, 
 he had tried to do so. Having learnt her place of residence, 
 and also that the good woman expected her M to tea" on the 
 ensuing Sunday, he determined to watch for her, and with what 
 success the reader is acquainted. Probably had any one asked 
 him why he sought the poor girl, he would have been at a loss 
 for an answer ; or had Ernest taxed him with dishonourable 
 views, he would have started from the suspicion, in anger ; for, 
 early as he had become initiated into habits of profligacy and 
 dissipation after his college advent, the innocent face of his 
 boy-love would rise up before him — a thing apart from all beside — 
 and check for a while the current of his loose life. Perhaps 
 more from a sense of false shame at being taunted as " very 
 harmless," "exceedingly good," "piously inclined," "quite a 
 saint," and want of moral courage to dare be singular, he had 
 yielded to the evil examples of those around him, than from any 
 inherent love of vice for its own sake. It is not an uncommon 
 case : many gallant young spirits, full of noble aspirations and 
 resolves for a life of honorable usefulness, have entered the seats 
 of ancient learning, and after parleying awhile with the mysterious 
 voice within, have turned the adder ear to its warnings, and, follow- 
 ing the influence and example of godless companions, they have 
 plunged into a vortex of follies and crimes, ending in blighted 
 hopes, disappointed expectations, ruined health, blasted character, 
 and, unless the long-suffering One stretch forth His hand, an 
 eternity of despair ! 
 
294 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 On the entrance of our hero, pro te?n., into the parlour of Mrs. 
 Goodenough, on the evening of the meeting already described, he 
 beheld, with secret delight, the deep and unmistakeable emotion 
 that shook the frame of Elinor, as she attempted to explain hei 
 regret that he should think her " so ungrateful as to have for- 
 gotten him " with a guilelessness of manner that at once betrayed 
 the innocence of her heart, and the existence of Love's fire 
 smouldering in its pure depths. 
 
 " Elinor," replied Charles, in a softened and respectful tone — 
 for he saw his former bold manner frightened her — " I feel so 
 happy to hear your assurance of my being remembered. I have 
 never for one moment forgotten you ; by day and night your 
 dear image has been busy at my heart, bidding me strive to be 
 worthy to ask your love in return ! Could I but hope to win 
 
 this precious n how much longer he would have poured 
 
 forth honied words imagination fails to conjecture, but for the 
 entrance of the housekeeper, which was a timely relief to Elinor, 
 who immediately escaped from his tender looks, to give vent to 
 a gush of sorrowful tears. "What a mixture of thoughts coursed 
 through her agitated heart ! Oh ! for a mother-bo?om whereon 
 to lay her throbbing head and weep her grief and life away 
 together ! Now, she will return at once to her grandfather, and 
 lean on his faithful breast ! then she remembers her dreadful 
 engagement to Madame Grinder, and the coarse threat of 
 " sending for a policeman" used only a few days before towards 
 a poor in-door apprentice, who, too ill to work, and maddened by 
 the frequent drugging, had told her she "must go away, they 
 were killing her soul and body ; M but, M up to these tricks," as her 
 oppressor brutally remarked, she was driven on, till at length 
 the whole over- worked frame gave way ; she crept tottering to 
 her miserable couch, and after two days and nights of agonized 
 suffering, the Friend of the oppressed and weary-hearted took her 
 to dwell in the world where " there is neither crying nor pain."* 
 
 • " Now, my lord, I ■will take those facts from the evidence which was 
 given last year before the Committee of the House of Lords, in which I sat 
 as member with my noble friend. And there is this peculiar advantage in 
 taking them from such a statement as that. Not only do the witnesses who 
 give these facts and make these statements hold themselves responsible for 
 them, but (what I am sure every thinking man in this meeting will feel to 
 be a matter of great moment) they state these facts before persons of very 
 different opinions from themselves, and they are subjected to the cross- 
 examination of persons who would catch at any inaccuracy or looseness in 
 
ipii.w. ■■ • "I 
 
 daisy's story. 295 
 
 Naturally timid, and shrinking from all observation, Elinor 
 dared not risk incurring the fury of her ruthless employer. 
 " What if she should send for a policeman to her for not keeping 
 her engagement !" "What would her dear grandfather say! He 
 would never hold up his head again after such a disgrace !" No ! 
 she would stay and try to do her duty, even if it killed her." 
 
 Poor child ! in her ignorance of the world, she was not aware 
 that all Madame Grinder's bombast and threats were put on for 
 work-room display, and that she would have shrunk as sensitively 
 from any official eye resting on her inhuman practices there,] as 
 Elinor would from being instrumental in laying them bare. 
 
 " / ever ill-use or over- work my dear young people," my 
 Lady ?" was the surprised exclamation with which one of these 
 artistes in the cut of a robe, style of a bonnet, hang of a feather, 
 or murder of an apprentice,* replied to a well-meaning, but inju- 
 dicious lady of rank, who, in a burst of spontaneous humanity— 
 when told bv a noble lord of the existence of these fashionable 
 
 J 
 
 the statement. I refer to the evidence which wa9 given before the Com- 
 mittee by one who had known thoroughly what the work was ; and this is 
 the special point of her evidence to which I call your attention. She was 
 asked whether she had ever known cases of positive cruelty; and a 
 very remarkable answer was received : "I remember one instance in 
 which one who was working with me was obliged to work at the business 
 till twelve o'clock at night, although she was unwell. Her illness increased, 
 and when the doctor was called in, he said she ought to have been in bed 
 weeks ago. ' She had sat and cried over her work every day for a long 
 time before the doctor was sent for.' They did not make her work after 
 the doctor had said she could not work; she was obliged to go to bed. But, 
 then, (mark you !) she never got up again, ' but died a week after she had 
 advice.' With that fact before us, it is not possible to exaggerate the evil 
 with which we have to deal. By no means is this a single example 
 picked out, nor one strong instance brought forward to establish what is 
 not true. I come to the evidence of another person well qualified to give 
 it, who also was practically acquainted with the whole business of dressmaking. 
 "When questioned as to the effect which long hours had upon herself, she 
 said : ' T cannot speak much as to the effect which they had upon my 
 own health ; but their effects on young people were generally bad. I have 
 seen them faint sometimes two and three times a-day." — The Bishop op 
 Oxford. 
 
 * u Much of the suffering of these young women I have beheld with my 
 own eyes ; I have seen some hundreds of them in this metropolis and in the 
 large towns of England, and in an official capacity, have taken their 
 -evidence amidst tears and sighs, and sometimes] on their death-bed." — 
 Ma. Graixger. 
 

 296 A LIFE-LONG STOR1*. 
 
 shambles — ordered her carriage, and went on the high tide of im- 
 pulsive indignant sympathy, direct to her milliner's, and enquired, 
 " Whether she ever practised or countenanced such dreadful 
 proceedings ?" 
 
 "/ ever ill-use or over-work any of my dear young people ! my 
 lady I Oh, no ! who could have invented this vile falsehood V* 
 Here the injured individual artfully inserted the corner of a 
 fragment of embroidery and lace, which passed for a pocket- 
 handkerchief, into her eye, as if her wounded feelings were find- 
 ing vent in tears of wronged innocence. " No doubt some 
 ill-natured person has invented this scandalous tale, in hopes of 
 depriving me of your ladyship's patronage," she continued, in a 
 tone so tenderly deprecating, that it was almost too mucli for the 
 kind-hearted Countess. "Oh, no! I never over-work one of 
 my dear girls ! If they were my own children I could not be more 
 careful of their health and comfort ! they never work more than 
 eight or ten hours a-day, and if one of them happens to be 
 poorly, no mother can be more watchful or anxious than I am, 
 though I ought not to say so of myself, and if your ladyship will 
 condescend to walk into my work-room, you can judge for your- 
 self!" and Madame moved across the saloon with the air of a 
 fifth-rate tragedy queen. 
 
 "No thank you, Madame! - ' hastily interrupted the well- 
 meaning woman of rank, who had unwittingly raised a storm she 
 had not the moral courage to face. " No thank vou ! vour word 
 is quite sufficient ; no doubt some mistake has arisen, and I will 
 certainly contradict any report I may hear." 
 
 It was now Madame s turn, who saw the advantage her 
 dissembling had gained, and prepared to' act thereon, by saying, in 
 a decided tone, — 
 
 " May I take the liberty of inquiring who told your ladyship 
 these scandalous falsehoods ?" 
 
 " I am not at liberty to say," replied the Countess, " but I beg 
 you will understand that names were not mentioned by my 
 informant, it was against a prevailing system of over- working the 
 young women in establishments, I was solicited to interest 
 myself." 
 
 Much relieved, Madame again assumed her theatrical air, 
 and exclaimed, — 
 
 " Depend on it, my lady, all these falsehoods are got up by- 
 bad inclined, discontented young women, who don't know when- 
 
daisy's stout. 297 
 
 they are well off, and what they want. Over-worked, indeed ! I 
 don't believe if your ladyship were to inquire from one end of 
 London to the other, you would find one instance to prove the 
 truth of these vile tales ! " 
 
 Quite satisfied, as much by Madame' s assurance as by her 
 bold and positive denial of the charge, the benevolent Countess 
 determined to listen no further on the subject, and to contradict 
 the reports whenever she had an opportunity of doing so. Thus 
 by a well meant, but injudicious action, she injured the sacred 
 cause which, by a proper discretion, she might have powerfully 
 and permanently aided. Can it be reasonably supposed that 
 any principal of an establishment would turn evidence against 
 her, or himself ? * 
 
 * " Much has been said respecting the long and late hours that dressmakers' 
 and milliners' assistants have to work, and I, for one, believe that language 
 too strong cannot be used deprecating that merciless system. But there are 
 yet other evils from which these classes are suffering, and to which reference 
 has not been so pointedly made. Persons unacquainted with the subject 
 would scarcely credit the wretched way in which these young people— most 
 of whom have been carefully reared, and accustomed in early life to all the 
 comforts and tendernesses of a happy home — are, in too many cases, huddled 
 together when they retire to rest. Following, as this does, upon the heels 
 of the exhausting labour of the ill-ventilated workroom, it would be impos- 
 sible to exaggerate the physical disasters which must ensue. Then, again, 
 it is a rule in some of these establishments to provide no Sunday's dinner 
 for the employed. Whether they have friends in town or are fresh from the 
 country, with no acquaintances whom they can visit, it matters not; no 
 dinner being prepared, they are driven out of doors to seek one where they 
 may. Upon the inhumanity of this parsimonious arrangement I will not 
 trust myself to dwell; its bad moral tendency must be palpable to every one. 
 Again, it will scarcely be credited, although I vouch for its truth, that the 
 head of one large West-End establishment, herself the mother op a 
 family, should be guilty of the unnatural conduct of keeping back till 
 night all letters that arrive for the young ladies during the day, including 
 those which come by the early morning post, and, for aught she knows, may 
 contain tidings of the 6udden and dangerous illness of a near relative, or 
 perchance of the death of a beloved parent. I hope the time is not distant 
 when the public will arise as one man and demand the suppression of these 
 outrages on humanity. I have no words adequately to express my detesta- 
 tion of the conduct of those who are guilty of such cruelties; and am at. 
 a loss to conceive how any persons, having the heart and the feelings of men, 
 can refer to the subject excepting in language of strong and severe reproba- 
 tion, especially when remembering that the sufferers are not of their own 
 sex, or possibly they might fight their own battles, but defenceless girls, and 
 who are therefore utterly powerless to extricate themselves from the shackles- 
 of this oppressive system." — Ma. Lilwall. 
 
298 A LIFE -LONG STORY. 
 
 That evening saw Elinor back to her slavery, and the next day 
 brought her a letter from Charles, filled with words of the 
 tenderest affection. We need not wade loathingly through the 
 honied poison of the serpent's missive, which filled the bosom of 
 his victim with anguish, but to which she never replied. She 
 longed for counsel and sympathy, yet shrunk from laying bare 
 its troubled surgings to any human eye, and, in truth, her 
 naturally quiet, unobtrusive reserve, and her living as she ever 
 had, in a life within herself, prevented her forming any girlish 
 friendships among those young creatures with whom she asso- 
 ciated ; though her gentleness and readiness to oblige, rendered 
 her a general favourite in the work-room, and one diseased 
 creature would have "laid down her life for Elinor," who, when 
 she was crying over her task from pain in the side, had several times 
 voluntarily offered to sit up nearly the whole night to complete 
 it, and thus enable the sufferer to obtain a little extra repose. 
 
 Having waited with fiery impatience without a reply, Charles 
 wrote again to his victim, urging her in the most impassioned 
 strain to allow him to see her and "learn his fate." " I implore 
 you, my love, my life," he wrote, "to come to our friend's this 
 evening, and let me see you for a few moments, that I may talk 
 of our blessed future*! I cannot — I will not — live without 
 you ! 
 
 f/k The very opposition that now met him in the pursuit of a 
 darling project, gave force to his determination to succeed ; the 
 knowledge of her love had increased his own. Once the idea of 
 a private marriage crossed his mind ; he would willingly have 
 thrown aside the disparity in their relative positions, but 
 "money he must have with the woman he married." His 
 scanty allowance had been insufficient for his expenditure ; his 
 habits and tastes were luxurious and extravagant, for he had 
 determined to drain pleasure's sparkling bowl, ere he settled 
 down in his sacred and important office ; in the meanwhile he 
 will secure Elinor, and as no reply came to his letters, he de- 
 termined on making use of the interest of Mrs. Goodenough, 
 but, alas ! this step was rendered unnecessary. 
 
 A great influx of work * for a ball in high quarters had come 
 
 * " The ladies did not order their dresses in time. One house told me 
 that they had forty-six dresses to make all at once for a flower-show. It is 
 for the 'flower-show, my lord, it is for the gay dancing of the painted 
 butterfly in the summer sun ; it is for such things as these that our sisters 
 
daisy's story. 299 
 
 in, and notwithstanding the circumstance of its usual occurrence 
 had been long known by the fair fashionists who were to figure 
 at it, their orders were not given 'till within a few hours of the 
 dresses being required, and then to be " done immediately I" 
 Seventy-one dresses to be " done immediately !" Fancy this, 
 tender-hearted reader ! Done, too, by suffering young "flesh of 
 your flesh," already sinking beneath the pressure of incessant 
 toil! 
 
 Ah! when the "Earth shall disclose her blood and 
 no more cover her slain ;" when all the pomp and splendour 
 of the ball shall have passed away, and nought remains but the 
 reward due to the "things done in the body," what will be 
 the record of many a work-room with its silent murders ! What 
 tales will be unfolded of the yearly fifteen thousand victims of 
 toil and wrong, if He, who says of the oppressed, "I have heard 
 their sighing, and their cry is come up before me, I will smite the 
 oppressor in my fury, 1 ' blot not out this crimson record against us ! 
 What "rock" or "mountain," will fall to hide us from the 
 " wrath of the Lamb !" 
 
 The devoted creatures had begun their slavery at four in the 
 morning, and with the exception of a few hurried moments for 
 their meals, had worked till two on the following one ; four 
 hours' repose was'then given, "and the same routine gone over four 
 consecutive days! We sicken as we furnish the facts, but truth 
 demands the expose* Vain was the poisonous stimulent plied ! 
 Vain were the pungent smelling-salts sniffed ! Vain the exciting 
 
 and our daughters are to be offered up at the shrine of this modern Moloch 
 in the Valley of Abomination. And, my lord, the noble Earl touched upon 
 one other poinl ; he spoke of why it was that these persons were subject to 
 all this oppression. He stated that it was because of the absolute power of 
 those who were set over them. Why is it that these young women are so 
 perfectly helpless ? The reason is this, that these young: persons, who are 
 the producers of those goods, cannot ptoduce them without a respectable 
 capital and a certain fashionable character; therefore there is no possible 
 remedy for the individual worker, except such means as you bring now to 
 them. They cannot leave the fashionable establishment, and set up for 
 themselves, and still do something, being contented with less gain ; they 
 must remain where they are, at the risk of utter ruin ; their bondage is 
 entire ; the power over them absolute ''—Bishop of Oxford. 
 
 * " Long after the miduight bell has tolled does woman ply the needle, 
 labour being exacted for eighteen or twenty hours, until sisters and 
 daughters swoon over the needle, succumb under their toil, arelaid on a 
 bed of sickness, and sink into an untimely grave.''— Mr. S. C. Kall. 
 
300 X LIFE-LON'G STORY. 
 
 tea drained ! Several fell from their seats incapable of further 
 exertion! Poor things! " The spirit n: as ic Ming, but the flesh 
 weak. 91 
 
 Among the nine who " gave out " was Elinor ; she had borne 
 an inward as well as outward load, and when, finding her strength 
 failing, she rose and staggered toward the window, gasping 
 fearfully for an indraught of God's invigorating air to infuse 
 new life into her exhausted frame, Madame Grinder — who was 
 spurring them on by threats and promises — exclaimed, — 
 
 " "What ! you setting such a bad example, Elinor Snow ! I 
 thought you knew better than to give way to a little fatigue ! 
 Come down !" she exclaimed, seeing her still remaining at the 
 open window, " let me have no more of these fine-lady airs and 
 nonsense, or it will be worse for you !" 
 
 a The willing worker attempted to obey the inhuman com- 
 mand, and moved a few paces, but she tottered and fell 
 heavily on the floor, from whence she was carried to the stifling 
 dormitory, and a cup of coffee (?) sent, which she eagerly 
 swallowed — fatigue and excitement having created an almost 
 intolerable thirst. She then dashed on her temples some water, 
 almost as hot as they were, from standing in the heated temperature 
 of the small room, and throwing herself on her bed, tru-d, but in 
 vain, to sleep: a horrible restlessness came over her; her brain 
 reeled to and fro, too heavy and burning to bear ; everything 
 danced and swam before her blood-shot eye ; she seemed going 
 mad ; and no longer mistress of her actions, with a wild gesture, 
 she sprung on a chair, and thrusting her head out of the narrow 
 window, shrieked wildly and fearfully. Startled at the sound, one 
 of the half dead victims rose from her pallet, and endeavoured to 
 persuade her to " come down and get some rest." Yielding, with 
 her accustomed meekness, to the gentle force employed, Elinor 
 again laid down, but meek-eyed Peace refused to settle on her 
 disordered spirit, and frantically starting up, she shrieked, " Oh, 
 let me go into the air ! I shall die ! my breath is all going ! let 
 me go !" and darting to the door, she rushed down the back stair- 
 case, and gained the street unobserved, running in the direction 
 of her only friend Mrs. Goodenough. The fresh air cooling her 
 brow relieved in a degree the suffocating oppression ; she felt 
 calmer ; and before reaching her journey's end had resolved on 
 asking a loan from her friend to defray the expense of returning 
 home ; all her little savings during her service in Lady Emily's 
 
^--J — — - " 
 
 daisy's story. 301 
 
 family, except the portiou sent to her grandfather, having heen 
 spent ; and these victims of lawless tyranny being engaged 
 by their oppressors for a certain period, only receive payment 
 when their term of engagement expires : thus their services are 
 secured, and silence in the matter of their torture effected, for 
 who, among those emaciated creatures, would dare the power and 
 fury of any of their inhuman oppressors ? 
 
 " \Vho would care to interest themselves for us, or believe our 
 word instead of Madame V despondingly argue these sacrifices of 
 Mammon. 
 
 Alas, alas, for them ! No wonder they rush by thousands to 
 gilded infamy and glittering crime, from such a living death ! 
 No wonder our leading thoroughfares are become the resort of 
 bedizened vice, and that children, young in years, but old iu 
 crime, should prefer tramping the pave for lordly and genteel 
 hire, when honest livelihood is gained at such a cost, — when vice, 
 or starvation, is the awful alternative ! 
 
 Reader, are these tilings so ? God forbid that any exaggerated 
 creations should tarnish the mournful sternness of these patented 
 facts ! Facts " stranger than any fiction," and sadder still. 
 Cut, oh ! saddest of all, facts that have bowed all hearts but 
 those to whom they most passionately appeal ! 
 
 Will you not, then, " gird up the loins" of your humanity, and 
 by all that is "lovely and of good report" in this life, and by all 
 that is hoped for in the next, come to the help of the helpless, 
 and hush, with the soft accents of sympathy, the great wail now 
 ascending to the bright throne of God against the oppressor ! 
 
 Mothers ! the little velvet cheek that nestles so lovingly into 
 your breast, at once its shelter and its life ; the little link of love 
 and joy, whose " piping cry" makes such wondrous melody in 
 your heart, may some day wail in the dreadful work-room,* for 
 " we know not what a day may bring forth ." Do come ! 
 
 *" There i9 no complication about it, and the facts are patent to every- 
 one. "We have only to deal with stern realities ; we have only to look 
 from our own comfortable houses, or from this spacious hall, to the actual 
 condition of those unfortunate young women, to the pallid circle of beings 
 in the crowded work-room, exhaused by intense toil, and almost perishing by 
 disease. From thence we have to look to the sick chamber, with its 
 melancholy struggles and its inevitable decay; from that, as a natural 
 consequence, we look to the churchyard, and there, under its nameless 
 mounds, covering what was once beauty and mind, what was once the 
 
M^rrni^^ 
 
 302 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 Daughters ! ye of the dewy eye and gracious heart, with the 
 great solemn tide of the unknown, untried future before you, will 
 you not come I Do come ! Time is passing ! Souls are perishing ! 
 Opportunity is wasting ! The record is filling up ! Eternity is 
 hasting ! Do come ! 
 
 Ah ! could you bear to hear those withering words from the 
 lips of infinite Love, — 
 
 " Depart from me, ye cursed. Inasmuch as ye did it not unto one 
 of the least of these, ye did it not unto me." 
 
 Elinor had just reached the door of her friend's house when 
 she met Charles, who had been there, with the intention pre- 
 viously recorded, leaving it. Starting violently, he caught her 
 hand, exclaiming — 
 
 <• For God's sake, Elinor, my sweet love, what has brought 
 vou here ! What is the matter ! " 
 
 The weary creature attempted to reply, but, overcome by 
 suffering, and his sudden appearance, she reeled and would have 
 fallen to the ground, had he not caught and bore her into the 
 little parlour, where, gently laying her on a sofa, he summoned 
 }Irs. Goodenough; and many hours passed ere consciousness was 
 restored. 
 
 " I want to go to my dear grandfather!" were the first words 
 spoken by the surviving victim of fashion. u Please let me go ! " 
 and she * looked with imploring! earnestness into the face of 
 Charles, who, much affected, replied soothingly, — 
 
 " Yes ! yes ! you shall go, but you are to ill to travel so late 
 as it is." 
 
 " Oh ! please ! please let me go at once ! I heard him call 
 me just now, and I must make haste ! do, do ! let me go now /" 
 she continued in a painfully excited manner, and a voice quiver- 
 animation of youth and the vigour of health, are those unfortunate victims 
 of fashion, of labour, of intense exertion, and hopeless toil. ' Mauy of 
 these persons, too, are of classes that have the strongest possible claim upon 
 the humanity of Englishmen ; many of them are the daughters of the man 
 of science, the scholar, who, in feeding the lamp of general illumination, 
 has exhausted the lamp of life ; many of them are daughters of officers, 
 gallant men who have bought our victories with their blood ; many, I 
 grieve to say, are daughters of clergymen, who, after being trained in the 
 gentle virtues and pastoral happiness of their homes, have been driven out 
 by the death of their fathers into the pitiless, pelting storm of a wintry 
 world.'"— S. C. Hall, Esq. 
 
daisy's story. 303 
 
 ing and broken, " only let me go to him, and I won't trouble any 
 one with me!" 
 
 Still more touched, Charles replied, " you shall go to your 
 grandfather ; I will take you myself to the station ;" and request- 
 ing the housekeeper to " wrap her up comfortably," he went for, 
 and returned in, a cab, into which he led the exhausted creature, 
 following himself. On their arrival at the station, they found 
 
 the train to D had left, and there was no other till the 
 
 following morning, at four o'clock. Yielding to the entreaties of 
 Charles — who, was greatly alarmed at her state of excitement and 
 evident suffering — Elinor consented to return to Mrs. Good- 
 enough's ; who as soon as she had given her some nutritious food, 
 put her into a clean, airy bed-room, wisely judging, from the 
 haggard looks and sunken eyes of the sufferer, that rest was the 
 thing most needed ; and she judged well, for in a few moments 
 she sunk into a death-like slumber, from which she did not 
 awake the whole of the next day and the following night, kind 
 Nature, thus repaying herself, became her own Nemesis. This 
 gracious repose greatly recruited the wasted strength of the 
 child-dressmaker, and she was able to tell her friend all she 
 had suffered from excessive labour and ill-treatment, and ask, 
 her advice. 
 
 " I cannot go back to Madame Grinder's, indeed I cannot ! " 
 she weepingly exclaimed. "I did try very hard to stay, but it 
 would have killed me, as it did poor Miss Meeks ! " and she 
 shuddered convulsively. 
 
 " Go back to the unnatural wretch ! I should think you 
 wouldn't, indeed ! " exclaimed Mrs. Goodenough, in a loud burst 
 of indignatiom "The woman ought to be hung without judge 
 or jury ! I have heard of such goings-on at the French houses, 
 but I never did believe English women could be such brutes to 
 their own flesh and blood !* Make me believe that there ain't no 
 
 * (i Lest the circumstance that the case here cited occurred in an establish- 
 ment conducted by French persons should convey a wrong impressioD, jus- 
 tice requires I should state, that rumour has it that, upon the -nhole, 
 greater kindness, or, more correctly speaking, less inhumanity, is practised 
 in the French houses in London than in those kept by Englishwomen. Xo 
 doubt there are houses of both kinds in which the young persons are, in a 
 certain sense, cared for ; indeed, I know there are some really noble excep- 
 tions. I have good reason to believe, however, that the establishments in 
 London, whether English or French, where anything like due coiuideration 
 is shown for the welfare of the employed, are lamentably few." — Mr. 
 Lilwall. 
 
304 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 law to protect young creatures like you, who can't take your own 
 parts ! They ought to send the police into the work-rooms, as 
 they do into the public-houses of a night, to see that the laws are 
 kept,* and not murder committed in this wholesale way ! For 
 my part, I ain't a bit surprised that there's so much wickedness 
 about, when poor things are used like brutes, and worse, in trying 
 to get their own livings honestly ! " 
 
 Worthy Mrs. Goodenough. We love that indignant outburst 
 of unpremeditated sympathy ! Tis woman all over, whose heart 
 is not petrified ; and there may be some sound sense in your re- 
 marks. 
 
 " I want mv clothes and my poor mother's Bible that I left on 
 the mantle-shelf in our bed- room ; I never had time to read in it, 
 or say my prayers, after the first few days I was there, f though 
 I did "try,*" meekly and tearfully remarked poor Elinor. 
 
 * " No child under thirteen can be employed, by laic, more than 8 hours 
 a-day, or 48 hours per week ; above thirteen and under eighteen years, more 
 than 12 hours a-day, or 69 hours per week." 
 
 t " I feel it is more than I ought to give, when I consider the mere unit 
 of time, compared with the countless ages of eternity, to which we are all 
 hastening. I cannot see it otherwise than sinful that temporal matters 
 should engross all our time, which it does. In the morning, the necessity of 
 going to business hurries the soul in devotion, and at night fatigue prostrates 
 the body. These things ought not to be. 
 
 "The writer of this letter adds: * I have known numbers who lay in bed 
 all the Sabbath, making that day of rest an absolute necessary day of slum- 
 ber.' Here, then, is another very serious consideration, and here it is that 
 it really touches people's souls. Those who give an order, with little 
 thought, do not consider that thereby they are making it impossible for the 
 persons who execute that order to worship God on the Lord's Day, or 
 indeed do anything but rest their wearied bodies." — The Lord Bishop 
 op London. 
 
 u One thing which strikes me is, how utterly impossible it is that these 
 young women can give proper attention to their spiritual interests. "We 
 know how difficult it is to maintain a Christian life in this Mammon-wor- 
 shipping age, and would it not be almost impossible for us to maintain it at 
 all if placed in their position? Even the weekly Sabbath is unavailable. 
 Such a week's labour as theirs induces languor which unfits them for Sab- 
 bath devotion. Their instinct of self-preservation drives them forth into the 
 parks and fields, where they may enjoy God's blessed sunshine. Some 
 blame them for that, but when I meet crowds of those young women on 
 Sundays, and see their pale, emaciated countenances, and their feeble, 
 shriveled frames, giving one the impression that from week's end to week's 
 end they had no opportunity of breathing fresh air ; when I see their state, 
 and think of their wants, I cannot feel it in my heart to forbid their stealing 
 
daisy's story. 305 
 
 It was then agreed that a note should be sent to Madame 
 Grinder, asking for the articles left by Elinor at her establish- 
 ment — stating her inability to fulfil her engagement, and request- 
 ing payment for the time she had worked. The following day 
 the book and clothes were sent, but the unprincipled woman 
 refused to pay one farthing for all the toil she had agonized out 
 of the helpless creature, basely sheltering herself behind the 
 " violated engagement ! " 
 
 In the course of the day Charles called. * O, you are looking 
 quite yourself, Elinor, my good girl ! " he exclaimed with affected 
 carelessness. " Your kind friend tells me you have fallen into 
 an enchanted slumber, and that she was uncertain as to the 
 result ; are you still as anxious to return to Dale ? If so, no 
 doubt Mrs. Goodenous-h will send some one to the station with 
 
 
 
 you. I have an engagement, or I would have seen you safely 
 off; " and looking at his watch, he added, "By the way, I have 
 no time to spare ! Good-bye, Elinor ! I wish you well, and if I 
 can at any time be serviceable to you, Mrs. Goodenough will be 
 able to tell you of my whereabouts." Then, shaking hands with 
 her in a most matter-of-fact way, he prepared to depart. 
 
 * ; Good-bye, sir," answered Elinor, in a faltering voice, " I am 
 much obliged for your kindness to me, and I am sure my dear 
 grandfather will never forget to thank you and pray for you ! " 
 
 A few moments later and the wily deceiver was on his way to 
 the station, where he impatiently waited till the last train had 
 left for D ■ ; but as his victim did not come, he rightly con- 
 cluded she had been induced by Mrs. Goodenough to remain 
 with her a few days. Determined his prey should not escape, he 
 regularly went to the station, remaining till the last train departed, 
 but he "forbore calling at the housekeeper's lest her suspicions 
 should be awakened : his perseverance was rewarded, for on the 
 third day he saw the fair face of his boyish love peeping nervously 
 out of a fly window as it drove into the station. At a distance, 
 he saw the colour mount into her sweet face as unprincipled 
 " cabby" demanded three times more than Mrs. Goodenough 
 told her " it would come to," and thereby so terribly lessened 
 her funds that she saw with dismay the trifling balance would not 
 convey her home ! Charles watched her anxious and bewildered 
 
 out for a few hours from the countenances of men, who have frowned upon 
 them almost constantly, to gaze on the smiling fields." — The Rev. William 
 Landells. 
 
 X 
 
306 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 look — first on one side, then on another — as, amid the hurry- 
 skurry, helter-skelter, pushing of selfish men, and remonstrance 
 of helpless women, she enquired of one of the company's servants 
 for the little trunk that contained all her worldly store, and was 
 answered with, — 
 
 " I don't know nothin' about yer trunk ! Get in, if you'r goin* 
 to D , the train only got two more minutes to stay !" 
 
 " Please tell me where to go for my ticket ?" meekly asked the 
 poor child, in 'a voice that would have softened the manners of 
 anything in creation, save a railway porter, or a Government 
 clerk ; and looking full of troubled thoughts into his hard face, 
 as he turned upon his heel, exclaiming, — 
 
 " What ! a'int yer got yer ticket ? I be blow'd if the train 
 won't be off without yer ! Run as fast as yer can ; turn to yer 
 
 right, and then to yer left, and " here a wild scream from 
 
 the infuriated engine swallowed up the rest of the lucid explana- 
 tion, and little Elinor (a veritable specimen of a living ''unpro- 
 tected female") cast an imploring look around, in hopes of 
 meeting some being with humanity enough to practically answer 
 the question, " who is my neighbour f A smothered cry of joy 
 broke from her lips, and she half moved towards him, but in- 
 stantly checked herself a3 she recognised Charles, who paused 
 for one moment to enjoy her trusting look, and the next was at 
 her side. 
 
 "Where is your luggage, my poor girl?" he asked, kindly, and 
 after receiving all the information he knew before, he placed her 
 in a carriage, bidding her be "quite happy/' he would "see 
 after her ticket and box." 
 
 The kind, respectful tone of Charles reassured Elinor. How 
 she blessed and loved him for his timely intervention. 
 
 Following the insolent porter, Charles inquired for the box in a 
 voice, and with a look, that brought him instantly to his bearings ; 
 touching the shade of his cap, he obsequiously replied, — 
 
 "All right, yer honour! Jest foller me!" And in half a 
 minute he pointed out the missing box, safely ensconced in the 
 luggage department. 
 
 "Why did you not tell the lady her box was safe, as you have 
 told me?" sternly demanded Charles, making the coward porter 
 quake. " Listen !" he continued, as the pitiful fellow attempted 
 to speak, " if you don't lose your situation for your insolence it 
 shall not be my fault !" (Generous indignation !) 
 
daisy's stort. 307 
 
 In a few seconds the ticket was produced, and Charles seated 
 at his victim's side, just as the train moved on, but the constant 
 clank prevented any conversation, though he inquired two or 
 three times, in his old kind way, how she felt, and Elinor, 
 happy in the prospect of being soon safe at home with her dear 
 grandfather, and, perhaps, in the consciousness of her protector's 
 presence, answered cheerfully and gratefully. 
 
 '•' Change yere!" vociferated a voice into the carriage -window, 
 and gently assisting Elinor to alight, Charles proceeded with her 
 to another train, whispering, on the way, — 
 
 " In an hour and ten minutes we shall be at D !" 
 
 " Oh ! how glad I am!" remarked Elinor, and away they 
 rushed again. 
 
 w Out yere ! " once more shouted an official, opening the 
 carriage-door with equal noise and rapidity. 
 
 "Train stop here!" exclaimed Charles, with a look of astonish- 
 ment. " Good heavens ! we have taken the wrong line !" Then, 
 in an excited manner, he inquired at wbat time the next train re- 
 turned and if they could " reach H to save the down train to 
 
 D ?" 
 
 u No, sur ! there aint ne'er a nother train till to-morrow, 
 30 past 9," replied the porter. 
 
 " How truly unfortunate !" said Charles, turning to Elinor 
 with a look of chagrin, (i there has been a most provoking 
 
 mistake, and we are now in the town of L , instead of 
 
 D !" 
 
 " Oh ! sir, what shall I do ? and what will poor dear grandfather 
 say, when he finds me not at the train !" exclaimed Elinor, in a 
 tone of deep distress. 
 
 " It is truly unfortunate !*' replied Charles, "but I will call a 
 cab and take you to the quietest hotel, and see that you have 
 everything comfortable ; if you like to write a few lines to your 
 grandfather, explaining the delay, I will post it, and you can 
 leave here by half-past nine to-morrow morning." 
 
 ' ; But could I not go back, sir ?" hastily asked the victim, 
 frightened at the idea of being left alone in a strange place, i 
 
 * No!" answered Charles, "there is no up-train again this 
 evening ; but pray don't distress yourself," he added, assuringly, 
 " I will take care "that you are comfortable ; — can you not trust 
 an old friend?" 
 
 " Please don't think me ungrateful, sir," said Elinor, tremu- 
 
 x 2 
 
308 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 lously, •• but I would rather go back to Mrs. Goodenough's ; I 
 am sure I could walk !" 
 
 " Walk, Elinor !" exclaimed Charles, "do you know that we 
 are at least seventy miles from London ? Pray take my advice ; 
 I give you my word I will see that you are well taken care of, 
 and safely at D by the first train in the morning." 
 
 As there was no alternative, Elinor consented that a fly should 
 be called, saying, as she did so, — 
 
 " Oh ! I don't doubt your word, sir ! I am sure you will be 
 very kind to me ; you always look like Lady Emily used to 
 look, when you speak so !" 
 
 Arrived at an hotel, and, at the request of Charles, shewn into 
 a private room, he led her to a seat, and placing himself beside 
 his unsuspecting victim, took her trembling hand, and said, — 
 
 " I cannot allow this opportunity, so singularly thrown in my 
 way, to escape, without once more telling you how unutterably 
 
 dear you are to me ! I love ! nay, hear me out," he added ; 
 
 as she withdrew her hand, and attempted to speak, " I love you 
 devotedly^ I would sacrifice my life to make you happy, for 
 it will be a burden without you !" 
 
 "But, sir," — Elinor began— and was silenced by Charles 
 continuing in a voice of melting tenderness, — 
 
 "Oh, my own love, don't doom me to despair! I have never 
 for one moment forgotten you, or ceased to adore you ! I love you 
 only, and entirely ; and never will your image fade from my 
 heart, till life and grief end together ! Say, beloved, you will not 
 doom me to despair !" and he covered his face with his hands, as 
 if penetrated with uncontrollable emotion ; while Elinor— pale, 
 agitated, and torn with contending feelings, sat the picture 
 of innocent sorrow. 
 
 Suddenly removing his hands, and seizing those of Elinor, 
 Charles fixed his eyes, full of impassioned tenderness on her 
 face, and calling her by a name he knew would go straight to her 
 heart, exclaimed — 
 
 " Daisy ! you love me ! Yes, you love me ! Nay," he added, as 
 he saw her varying cheek, and the emotion that ran quivering 
 through her frame, " say you will be my own for ever, and make 
 the life a life of bliss that will be a curse without you !" 
 
 " But oh, sir ! How could I " began Elinor, trembling. 
 
 " Do not say ■ but ' my sweet love," interrupted Charies, 
 sinking on one knee, and drawing her sweet young head on hi 
 
 s 
 
daisy's story. 309 
 
 breast. " Say you will consent to be mine, mine only, my joy, 
 my life, my Daisy-love ! " 
 
 '• But if I were to consent to become your happy wife," replied 
 Elinor softly, " what would the Colonel and Lady Monston, 
 and all your noble relations say ! " No thought of dishonour 
 shadowed the crvstal purity of her heart ; judging, by her own, 
 she believed all love was immaculate, and knew nought of the 
 coarse passion that, stealing its garb, profanes its sacred name. 
 
 " Oh ! " replied the tempter, using her ignorance, M when all is 
 over, they will know it is no use to try to undo the past. Beside, 
 my sweet love, we will not be married just yet, we will wait, and 
 talk about our bright future together ! " " Together" he fondly 
 repeated, patting: her transparent cheek, while she, poor inno- 
 cent child-victim, placing implicit confidence in the truth and 
 honour of her long-cherished idol, walked unsuspiciously into the 
 net set for her with such Satanic skill and deception. 
 
 During the evening he drew her to talk of " old days," as he 
 called those of his "boyish love, when he used to bring her 
 flowers ; and won her to confess how long and tenderly she had 
 loved him. 
 
 " I shall never be able to repay you for all your dear love 
 and goodness to a poor girl like me, "but when I am your happy 
 wife I will try never to disgrace you, and do all I can to prove 
 my gratitude" and affection," and Elinor took the hand of Charles 
 and kissed it with such tearful meekness, that he was touched to 
 the heart, and had it been practicable, he would then and there 
 unhesitatingly have made her his lawful wife. But, alas ! for 
 him, these smitings of compunction had become too much like 
 " angels' visits," and the following morning, when he met her, 
 refreshed by repose, radiant with happiness, which increased her 
 exquisite beauty, his purposed villany was confirmed. 
 
 " You are looking quite like old times, my sweet Love !" said 
 the deceiver, as he claspingly led the happy girl to a seat, M and 
 I am sure you will agree with me that we should wait a reply to 
 a letter I have written to my father, informing him of our en- 
 gagement, ere we take any decided step. I hear there is a 
 beautiful village near this, and I will engage apartments there 
 for you, if you approve it, until we can arrange for our marriage." 
 
 '* Oh ! no," quickly replied Elinor, " let us go to my dear 
 grandfather, and wait — but no — " she said, stopping suddenly, 
 H his would be but a'poor home for you ; let me go alone, and you 
 
A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 come and fetch me when you have gained your father's consent 
 to make me your humble but happy wife." 
 
 " No place could be poor, my Daisy-love, where you dwelt," 
 replied the cruel deceiver, " I have written to your grandfather — 
 see," he said, holding up a letter, " and you can pen a little dis- 
 patch, which I will put inside, but we must not go to D ale,for 
 many reasons." 
 
 Elinor took the letter he had written to her beloved grand- 
 father, and, as she read it, tears gathered in her soft eyes, and 
 when she returned it she laid her head confidingly on the 
 guilty breast before her, and sobbed from very joy and gratitude. 
 " My Daisy-wife must not weep," softly expostulated the 
 serpent, kissing her pure brow for the first time, and twining his 
 arms lovingly round her form of grace. 
 
 We need not follow, step by step, in the strategy by which he 
 closed the net about her — it is an old and sickening pathway'; 
 neither need we repeat the vows he uttered of making her his 
 wife, the falsehoods he forged relative to his father's indignation 
 and threats to u renounce him for ever if he did not instantly 
 leave her." We need not picture him " invoking his Maker's 
 vengeance if ever he proved false to Daisy," nor with the Prayer- 
 book before him, repeating, in solemn mockery, the marriage ser- 
 vice, and placing on her hand the honoured badge of wifehood, 
 in the presence of his special friend Brace, appealing to heaven 
 and earth to witness the act. 'Tis a worn story — suffice that 
 Elinor took possession of the pretty cottage hired for her, 
 believing herself as much his wife, in the eye of God, as if she 
 had been wedded in the sanctuary, 'mid smiling men and bloom- 
 ing bridesmaids, surrounded by sunshine and flowers. 
 
 Two months glided away like some bright golden age. To draw 
 from the rich, unexplored mine of his victim's intellect and feel- 
 ing was a constant source of employment and amusement to her 
 destroyer ; and in listening to her innocent and original ideas, time 
 passsed swiftly by : but, alas ! short was her young heart's 
 summer ! At" length Charles began to tire, even of his life of 
 sweets. " Business" was pleaded as a call once more to the great 
 world of London, whither she accompanied him into suburban 
 lodgings, and soon became passionately admired by a few of the 
 choice spirits Charles admitted into his society. 
 
 " Bv Jove ! Charlie, you are wight ; she is an exquisite 
 
daisy's stoky. 311 
 
 zwechaw ! " drawled Brace, after congratulating his friend at the 
 success of his plot, "and vrhenexaw you take a fancy to a fresh 
 face, and, want to be ■ off with the old love, befoaz/; you are on with 
 the new,' just give me a hint, for she is wondrously impz'joved 
 under your tendaz/; care, my fine fellaA .' " 
 
 It was not very long before that time did come. Fainter and 
 fainter became the villain's excuses, when implored by Elinor to 
 make their marriage known to his family and friends ; and now 
 cross, impatient words would meet her anxious wish, and freeze 
 the gushing current of her trusting heart, sealing her meek 
 tongue. During her first few weeks' residence in our Babylon she 
 had indulged her passion for music by accompanying Charles to 
 some of the highest operatic performances, but she shrunk from 
 the bold stare of the silly exquisites, and wondered at the averted 
 faces of her own sex, who from their boxes unblushingly leveled 
 their double-barreled lorgnettes at scenic exhibitions from which 
 Modesty turned her insulted gaze, and she soon gave up this 
 pleasure, contenting herself with a musical box he had presented 
 to her on the first and only birthday she passed with him — her 
 seventeenth ! 
 
 About four months after her residence in London, on her 
 knees she implored him to acknowledge her openly ; and so 
 powerfully and touchingly did she plead her right, 'mid tears and 
 love, that even her destroyer was moved, and mentally 
 resolved never to place himself in the way of such an 
 "unpleasant scene " again — but how? all monster as he was, 
 he paused ere he struck the blow that he knew would break that 
 trusting heart ; and so he once more takes Brace into his 
 counsel, and they arrange that the latter shall "just look in" on 
 a certain evening, to persuade them to accompany him to the 
 Opera, and hear the " favorite " in a new piece, to which Charles 
 was immediately to consent, and when there, to thrust a note of 
 explanation and farewell into Elinor's hand, recommending her 
 to his " valued friend." 
 
 This hellish scheme settled, Charles once more became 
 talkative and gay, perhaps to silence the lashings of conscience ; 
 and on the evening appointed for the visit of Brace his spirits 
 rose to an unnatural height. He laughed and chatted gaily 
 with his victim, as of old ; while she, poor innocent, hailed with 
 delight a return to tenderness on the part of her idol ; for he had 
 lately sat moodily for hours, never speaking a word of kindness, 
 
312 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 or appearing sensible of her gentle presence and solicitude, 
 when, believing his abstraction proceeded from care and anxiety, 
 she would try, with woman's own leal and winsome tenderness, to 
 charm away his perplexities, and often, when coarsely repulsed, 
 she would sit so meekly by his side, with her book or work, that, 
 spite of himself, his early generosity would well up for a moment 
 through the flinty soil ; and it was only after swallowing glass upon 
 glass of exciting beverage that he could look coolly on the foul 
 wrong he was about to infliction one whose greatest sin had been 
 too deep trustingness and love for him. 
 
 But the fatal night arrived, and they went to the Opera. 
 Charles sat gloomy and abstracted, betraying no interest either in 
 the almost supernatural efforts of the Prima Donna, or in the pale, 
 prophetic looks of his victim, while the fascinating but languid 
 Brace taxed his tongue and energies to win a smile from her in 
 vain. Starting up suddenly, without casting a look towards her, 
 Charles thrust a note into her hand, saying, hoarsely, "Read it 
 directly !" and darted from the box, while she, her whole frame 
 heaving with emotion at dread presentiment of coming ill, 
 hastily opened the missive, and read — 
 
 " We have parted for ever. My father threatens to disown me, and 
 publish an account of our false marriage, if I do not instantly give you up : 
 this would ruin my prospects. I have no alternative. 
 
 " Yours, 
 
 " Charles. 
 " My valued friend, Lord Brace, will counsel and befriend you." 
 
 " Stricken at the core ! " as the young creature read the 
 fatal words, a crimson film gathered over her eyes. Hor- 
 rible noises rushed into her ears — her hot brain whirled in 
 agony — and, with a piercing moan, darting to the door of the 
 box, she was about to fly she knew not whither, when suddenly 
 the magnificent notes of the Prima Donna rolled their passionate 
 harmony through the breathless house, and Elinor paused — the 
 lead seemed melting from her brain, and gracious tears saved her 
 from madness. 
 
 Brace was powerfully affected. Fashion-hardened, and sailing 
 on the wild sea of unchecked passion as he was, the hopeless 
 anguish of the victim before him touched the chord of sympathy, 
 buried deep down in his heart beneath monster heaps of vice, and 
 in a tone of unmixed respect he begged her to allow him to escort 
 her home. 
 
daisy's stoey. 313 
 
 Home ! Poor girl ! But she reached that home, and oh, the 
 night of torture that was hers ! She died a thousand deaths ! 
 Her heart was burnt to ashes by the fire of despair ! Sweltering 
 waves of tribulation rolled over her soul ! Vainly she groped in 
 that dark storm for one glimmer of light or ray of hope ! Once, 
 and once again, the unearthly noises rush into her ears ; her 
 brain reels, and madness scowls upon her, when, rapidly winding 
 up her musical treasure, its soothing strains stole into the rents of 
 her heart, and drove away the spectres for a while. But the blow 
 had fallen, and left its festering bruise till death came and silenced 
 her great wrong and woe together. 
 
 The sequel of her story is known. To the limited vision of 
 mortality it was a fearful end, after a life of innocence, whose very 
 trustinguess made her a prey to the destroyer ; but we " see 
 through a glass darkly." 
 
 Poor Daisy ! Did'st thou for a while forget the lessons of thy 
 bended infant knee, at the old man's side, hushed by the murmur 
 of love's delicious song ? Did'st thou for a while yield vain wor- 
 ship to an idol, who drove passion's fiery car over thy prostrate 
 spirit, crushing out its vitality ? Tisan old and oft-repeated tale, — 
 one of the many daily tragedies before us, whose " close is dim." 
 
 After the return of the withered Daisy to her native village, the 
 care of Courtenaye and the City Missionary brought peace to her 
 soul through the blood of the Lamb, while the sympathy of Mary 
 soothed and softened her journey home ; and she sleeps in the 
 old church-yard, not far from the Doctor's family vault. The 
 soul's fevered longings for ever quenched — life's fitful dream 
 ended — no more broken vows sere her trusting heart ; no more 
 cold words or bitter neglect freeze the sweet fount of her young 
 affections ; no more disdain from the supercilious lip of un- 
 tempted beauty. No more upbraiding glances from the cold eye 
 of virtuous mothers ! 
 
 u No Condemnation." 
 
 Adieu, sweet Daisy ! We leave thy form with its surpassing 
 grace, thy face with its touching loveliness, in their lowly bed. 
 Thou sleepest well, — 
 
 41 The storms that wreck our wintry sky, 
 No more disturb thy deep repose, 
 Than summer evening's latest sigh 
 That shuts the rose." 
 

 31 -4 A LIFE -LONG STOUT 
 
 We know not if our fair readers would feel any interest in the 
 subsequent trail of the serpent who blighted Daisy's Eden ; but, 
 as it conveys a lesson, burdened with the truth, that even hVthis 
 life " men's sins find them out" and " their damnation slumbeveih 
 not," we will follow him rapidly to its close. 
 
 Immediately after abandoning his victim, dreading to be alone 
 with conscience, Charles crossed to the other side of the theatre, 
 and entered the box of a very virtuous-looking woman of rank, 
 who greeted the insinuating roue with a shower of smiles sufficient 
 to put to flight for ever all gloomy recollections. 
 
 " Did you receive my note this morning?" smilingly enquired 
 the noble mother, " my girls want you to help them arrange the 
 characters and dresses for a series of private theatricals they 
 intend getting up, and so they coaxed me to solicit the enlistment 
 of your brilliant talents ; we are very fond of this sort of 
 amusement. " 
 
 Charles consented, and in a vortex of maudling frivolity, strove 
 to forget his crime. 
 
 Virtuous mother ! she had watched, with eye aslant, the 
 possessor of " brilliant talent" with his victim in a box nearly 
 opposite to hers — she had heard whispers of his immoralities ;[ but 
 what then ? Was he not highly connected, in the high road to a 
 bishoprick, and would he not be an excellent u catch" for one of 
 her four unattached? 
 
 " As to his peccadilloes — poor fellow ! he would be all the 
 
 steadier for them by-and-by ! " " Young men will be young 
 
 men, and really there are so many temptations for them those 
 
 dreadful women !" Such were her apologies ; hence she smiled 
 motherly on the betrayer — society- privileged to break all the 
 commandments with impunity, — and on the next Sabbath rolled 
 in her luxurious epuipage all the way from Virtue Lane, to the 
 
 L Chapel, sunk religiously into her hassock, listened with 
 
 rapt attention to the trumpet-preaching of its pastor, and after 
 winding herself up to piety-pitch, threw a look of chaste indig- 
 nation and disgust at the curtained enclosure screening the 
 dupes of man's lawless brutality, and warmly gratulated herself 
 that " she is not as other women." 
 
 Well, Daisy's destroyer married ; a bright head pillowed on his 
 bosom — fair children called him father. He rose to a high posi- 
 tion : fortune smiled on him ; but never, never did he know one 
 
daisy's story. 315 
 
 moment's happiness. God took him at his word, when 
 he "hoped His vengeance would light upon him if ever he 
 proved false to Daisy," and that simple domestic flower became, 
 in the hand of avenging Omnipotence, a scourge of serpents, 
 ever lashing his conscience with their deadlv sting. 
 
 His favorite child— a girl of three vears old — the onlv thins: 
 in existence privileged to intrude on his privacy, loved flowers 
 with all a child's spontaneous enjoyment ; bursting into his 
 study one day, with her rounded rosy arms folded tightly over 
 some prize, rolled up in her pinafore, she exclaimed, in ecstacy, — 
 
 " Only look, darling papa ! what a lovely chain I can make 
 for my new dolly !" and her arms relaxing, displayed a gathering 
 of crushed daisies. 
 
 "With lightning speed memory beckoned before him his 
 unbribed accusers. The face of the guilty man blanched in their 
 mute presence ; he bent his head close to the innocent prattler, 
 who had unconsciously touched the spring of his secret sufferings, 
 and his breast heaved convulsively. 
 
 On tiptoe, lifting her pure lips to]; his, the child threw her 
 arms round his neck, thereby liberating her imprisoned treasures, 
 and scattering them at his feet, asked in accents of blended 
 curiosity and surprise, — 
 
 " Don't you love daisies ? dear darling daisies, my own papa ?" 
 
 "Cain! where is thy brother?" 
 
 On another occasion, when the father of Charles presented his 
 eldest boy with a diminutive Shetland pony, a family council 
 being invoked to decide on the most appropriate name for the 
 petted creature, the child unwittingly suggested "Daisy" as the 
 " best name in the world for such a dear, gentle little thing." 
 
 Once more a flash as of the lightning's wing over the midnight 
 
 G C* ZD C 
 
 memory of his crime, irradiated it with a lurid glare, and he 
 darted from their midst. 
 
 Thus the miserable man would have found the death-pang less 
 acute than the unmitigated remorse he had perpetually to endure. 
 His victim was ever^at his side. From the stars her meek eyes 
 looked down, and their impassive glory became a scorching glare 
 upon his accursed track. In the quivering moon-ray her pale 
 face flashed out. Amid the summer flowers wandered her fairer 
 form, ever retreating from his wolfish gripe. On the breeze of 
 evening floated her low sweet voice, as a ringing curfew over the 
 unquenchable furnace of his soul. "With the seared leaf and 
 
316 A LIFE-LONG STORT. 
 
 withering grass came spectres of her shrouded loveliness. Nature 
 — million-tongued — avenged her murder, until, unable longer to 
 sustain the unsparing chastisement of his crime, he paid the 
 penalty of life, ere thirty springs had shed their glories over his 
 guilty head ; and then they laid him in his narrow bed, no more 
 to rise till the Archangel's trump shall rouse the slumbering 
 dust, when in his ' 'flesh he shall see God" standing face to face 
 with his victim-wife before " the great white throne." 
 
 Ah ! if the destroyer rather than the destroyed — the jflis* 
 honorer rather' than the dishonored — were made the objects of 
 woman's virtuous reprobation, how purer would be the aspect of 
 society ; how infinitely higher the claims of our country to 
 prosperity and happiness ! 
 
ONE IN THE GLOEY WOBLD. 317 
 
 CHAPTEE XXY. 
 
 (&nt in the (glow Morli. 
 
 A baby was sleeping, it's mother was weeping, 
 
 • • f 
 
 Oh ! blest be the warning, thy young cheek adorning, 
 
 For I know that the angels are whisp'ring to thee."' 
 
 ° I lov'd them so, 
 That when the elder Shepherd of the fold 
 Came covered with the storm, and pale and cold, 
 And begged for one of my sweet lambs to hold, 
 
 I- bade him go ! " 
 
 A beight young mother sinks on bended knee beside a wee 
 cot. "With joy glistening in her full eye, she watches the 
 smiles that chase swiftly over the placid face of her slumbering 
 treasure, and thoughts of the exquisite Irish legend come into 
 her heart. A lamp sheds soft rays around, revealing the grace- 
 ful form of our old friend Mary, keeping sweet vigil beside her 
 boy — her second born — another drop in life's luscious cup. 
 Memory had involuntarily flown back to the precious friend 
 whose love had first awoke her heart to its intense capability 
 of affection, and round whom its tendrils had twined with a 
 strength that no time could weaken nor death destroy. " How 
 she would have loved this little pilgrim ! " Then came thoughts 
 of her departed father. " With what pride would he have 
 taken that bright little sleeper on his knee ! " " How proudly 
 she would have told him of all her happiness !" But, alas ! those 
 tender eyes had been darkened by the death-shadow; those loving 
 hearts frozen in Death's grisly grasp ! Now thoughts of that 
 mysterious drawing from within the veil that had overpowered 
 her as she stood by the early dead— then of those strangeheart- 
 
-^^— «-^^™""6»-!«l»«PI 
 
 313 A LIFE-LO^G STOBY. 
 
 movings and restlessness that had so marvellously foreshadowed 
 her father's death, came over her spirit, and bowing her head 
 on the tiny bed, she wept. 
 
 Relieved, she rose, and with that sudden transition of 
 thought so common to impulsive characters, she tried to draw 
 back the curtain whose impenetrable folds fall over the after- 
 life of the two precious beings who call her mother. What fairy - 
 like tissues, rich in all the varied hues of creature bliss, did she 
 weave in love's subtle loom, wherewith to deck these little 
 pearls in her heart's coronet ! Yista after vista arises in sha- 
 dowy brilliancy, painted by the pencil of rosy Hope ! 
 
 Ah, dream on young sanguine mother! thou shalt never 
 dream the like again ! Hearest thou not the angels whisper- 
 ing, " Come away ! " Seest thou not the flashing of their sil- 
 very wings, as they hover over the spot where the young im- 
 mortal sleeps ! 
 
 Why did the light so suddenly fade from the kindling eye 
 of that hopeful mother ? What revulsion of feeling causes her 
 breast to heave and shudder ? What shadows flicker over her 
 soul's mirror in such quick succession ? 
 
 Ah, the dream is over-! The thought sweeps through her 
 heart, what if this cistern, now so crowned with creature bliss, 
 should be broken ? what if this silver cord should be loosened ? 
 Terrible supposition ! She cannot grapple with it ! agitated 
 and confounded at her heart's sudden unhinging, she rises, 
 intending to seek the breast on which all her cares are laid and 
 soothed ; but first she will look out upon the night — the fresh 
 air may scatter these oppressive imaginings. Stepping from a 
 window opening to the ground, and leading over leads to some 
 extent, the eye rested on a magnificent sweep of hill and valley, 
 and in the hush of the night, rich in all the foliage of early 
 June, there came voices of melody from a thousand whispering 
 leaves, that thrilled tremulously on the air, laden with perfume 
 from the parterre beneath; yet there was a weight in the 
 atmosphere, a heavy inertness ; the very birds sung lazily their 
 evening hymn, and the flowers hung down their graceful heads 
 as if the air sat too heavily upon them. There was something 
 in the night that brought back to Mary's mind her first walk 
 with her husband ; the same under-sound pervading all crea- 
 tion — the same untroubled stars ; and, as she gazed, the tender 
 warning of her departed friend rung in her ear with startling 
 
. -L .- -.-»■ 
 
 0>'E ES" THE GLOEY WOBLD. 319 
 
 distinctness : on just such a June evening they had parted 
 for different walks in life ; and ere the farewell word was 
 spoken, that faithful one had endeavoured to plant her wander- 
 ing feet in the straight and narrow way ; and, pointing to a star 
 that now shone with meteor-like brilliancy, had exclaimed, in a 
 voice tender and sweet as if she had already learned the tones of 
 heaven — 
 
 u However wide apart our life-journey may be, oh, my dar- 
 ling 3Iarv, at its close let us meet there ! " 
 
 Through fast-falling tears Mary continued to gaze on the 
 star, and an unaccountable idea that it was in some mysterious 
 way connected with her destiny — that it had influenced it, and 
 would contiune to do so, pervaded her mind. Her poetic tem- 
 perament, overwrought by the multifarious thoughts that had 
 coursed through her mind, centred in the belief with an inten- 
 sity which so entirely engrossed her, that she did not hear the 
 footsteps which ever awoke her deepest heart-music, close to 
 her side, and she started, trembling violently, as the arm of 
 her husband was thrown tenderly round her, and he inquired — 
 
 " What are you thinkiug of, with that grave, mamma-like 
 face ? " and looking into her eyes, he silently kissed off the 
 tears, and pressed her close to his heart — for though they had 
 been married nearly three years, and Mary was now at the 
 matronly age of twenty-one, the wife's tears were as precious 
 as had been the trusting girl's. 
 
 e: I scarce know of what I was thinking at that moment," 
 replied ^lary ; " for I have been occupied with such a variety 
 of fancies, and then my heart became very full, and like a 
 spoiled wife, as I am, I wept. But you must forgive me ! You 
 know, beloved, how weak and silly I am sometimes, though I 
 try to be worthy of your love." 
 
 " I shall scold you in right earnest if you talk in that strain, 
 naughty flatterer 1" tenderly replied Courtenaye, for he saw 
 by the pale cheek, and felt by the tremulous accents of his wife, 
 that something had moved her deeply. " Perhaps you feel the 
 oppression in the air this evening, presaging a storm, I think. 
 But look, sweet-heart, at that star " — pointing to the one she 
 had been so busily engaged in linking with her destiny — :i how 
 strangely bright it is ! That shall be your star," he added, smil- 
 ing gaily, in the hope of chasing the sadness that sat on her 
 brow. Yet, even as the words fell from his lip, a cloud — 
 
320 A LirE-LO>~(i STORY. 
 
 its border fringed with a lurid light — passed oyer the star, 
 eclipsing its wild, tremulous glory. 
 
 " Very unceremonious, indeed!*' continued Courtenaye, in 
 the same strain. ""What a sombre, churlish cloud, to 
 draw his dark curtain, just at this moment, oyer your star, 
 my Mary ! But now I will re-name it ow star, and then I 
 shall share all the clouds that flit oyer us," and he strained 
 her closer to his breast. 
 
 Mary involuntarily shuddered. As the pall shrouded the 
 star there came again that strange sweep, as of a raven's wing, 
 through her heart ; the same deep moyings of soul that had 
 presaged her father's death ; and eyen her husband's cheerful 
 tone and loying caress failed to reassure her. 
 
 " How darkly shrouded our star is beloyed ! I hope it is not 
 an ill omen, or am I unusually weak and superstitious ?" asked 
 Mary. 
 
 u Our star is not in reality shrouded, dear loye, replied 
 Courtenaye, it shines just as brightly beyond that earth-born 
 shadow which for a while has obscured its radiance, but it 
 will soon pass away and all be fair again;" and eyen as he spoke 
 the sable cloud rolled majestically away, and more dazzling for 
 the momentary eclipse, shone out the star in the clear ex- 
 panse — 
 
 ''Chaste, solemn, beautifully bright, 
 As if the glory and the bliss 
 Of the next world were given to sight, 
 Mixed with the fickleness of this."' 
 
 " Some nations have imagined that the stars haye a powerful 
 and mysterious influence on the destinies of the human race," 
 remarked Mary, at length gi\"ing utterance to her secret cause 
 of agitation, "and do you know,- dearest, I cannot help fancying 
 yonder star has power oyer mine, and that clouds are to over- 
 shadow my path, ere the end will be bright." 
 
 " Tour feelings seem to have been over- wrought to-night," 
 said Courtenaye, gently, " the influence of the stars is generally 
 soothing and softening, but they appear to have had a contrary 
 effect on you. What ails my darling wife r" 
 
 " But do you not belieye it is so ?" demanded Mary, "I haye 
 read accounts, so apparently well attested, that it seems im- 
 possible to discredit them ; are there not in the present day 
 many who belieye in the language of the stars ?" 
 
o>t; i>" the gloet woeld. 321 
 
 " I believe the modern Jews have a great idea of their in- 
 fluence, and now and then we hear of the dabblings of astrology 
 from other nations; but it was most prevalent among the 
 Babvlonians, living in the ancient land of the Chaldees, those 
 princes of star-gazer3 ; the sacred Eabbins imbibed a taste for 
 the mystic lore of their predecessors, and by the moving of the 
 stars they formed letters and lines, which they styled the ' Ce- 
 lestial Alphabet ;' but I do not believe we have any authoritative 
 teaching to foster the belief that they determine national or 
 individual events." 
 
 " And yet we read of the stars fighting against Sisera, and 
 the Star that went before the ^vTise men, and stopped over the 
 manger where the infant Saviour lay/' replied Mary. 
 
 " The former might be but the lofty hyperbole of Oriental 
 poetry ; or an ironical allusion to the prevailing superstition 
 among Eastern nations that heroes when dead became gods and 
 were translated into stars, which thus became their vehicles, 
 and from whence they superintended the affairs of mankind. 
 The latter was a miracle performed by the power of God, like 
 the suspension of the governing laws of creation when the sun 
 stood stillTor Joshua, or veiled his face upon Calvary," replied 
 Courtenaye. 
 
 " Still I cannot help believing — forgive me, my best instruc- 
 tor!" — remarked Mary, with emotion, " that that star will influ- 
 ence me ; neither can I explain to you the strange awe sitting 
 on my heart ; do you think it impossible stars can overrule 
 destiny ?" 
 
 u ^Nothing is impossible, darling," answered Courtenaye, 
 11 there is a beautiful and harmonious dependance existing be- 
 tween all parts of the physical universe ; the majestic creative 
 Power that spoke them into being, guides and governs aU by 
 laws, grand in their very simplicity, the same mutual attraction, 
 ever receiving and returning ; and there may exist influences, 
 operating powerfully of which we are wholly ignorant, electri- 
 city for example ; still I do not think it probable that your idea 
 is borne out by the highest teaching." 
 
 " Do you think there is any harm in the belief:" asked 
 Mary, "could it exercise a depressing influence r" 
 
 " Tour feelings, when the cloud went over our star, will be the 
 best answer, my love," replied Courtenaye, smiling ; "but I grant 
 that in one sense there may be a pervading influence derived 
 
 T 
 
322 A LIFE-LONG STOBY. 
 
 from a frequent contemplation of J the stars; your favorite, 
 Young, tells us — 
 
 ' The undevout astronomer is mad,' 
 and the reflective mind is insensibly led beyond all the noise 
 and strife of this warring life to Him in whose praise the 
 * morning stars sung together ;' we can scarcely, I think, con- 
 template those wondrous 'self-balanced' orbs, bringing 
 thoughts of the Eternal God who rolled them into space by the 
 breath of His mouth, and cherish thoughts of sin. We imper- 
 ceptibly imbibe the atmosphere of our lengthened contempla- 
 tions, hence there may be a spiritualizing influence." 
 
 " But how is it that in the starry stillness of the eveninni 
 there ever comes that solemn hush of heart, and we see g 
 nearer to our loved and lost? we almost feel their hand 
 clasping ours, and their loving eyes bent on us ? I could fancy 
 at this moment my precious friend was beside me, waiting to 
 whisper some spirit-message, and if I stretched out my arms 
 I should hold her to my heart." 
 
 " You have been very dreamy to night, darling," said 
 Courtenaye, smiling mournfully, be scarce knew why, unless 
 he had become infected by the sadness of his wife's voice ; 
 "but may we not account for these feelings without the 
 aid of the stars ? the fact that we are removed for a while from 
 all the influences appealing so overpoweringly to our senses in 
 the busy mid-day, and the heart, weary of the wear and tear, 
 receives more vividly those softening and hallowing impressions, 
 that commune with the spiritual part of our natures ; hence, 
 we deem ourselves nearer the spirit-land, forgetting that we 
 are ever encompassed about with a 'great cloud of witnesses' " 
 
 " Then my lost friend may have been near me to-night, be- 
 loved !" solemnly remarked Mary, and she repeated to Courte- 
 naye the parting words of her so truly and faithfully-mourned, 
 adding, " and now, you my own precious husband will be linked 
 with her, and our star." 
 
 With a sudden and seeming irresistible impulse, Courtenaye 
 raised his hand, and pointing upward, exclaimed in his full rich 
 tones, — 
 
 " Oh, yes, yes, beloved ! whatever may be the scenes through 
 which we are destined to travel, we must meet there at last !" 
 
 As he spoke, a flash of lightning enveloped them for an 
 instant in its subtle flame. Then followed a stifled peal of 
 
0>~E KB THE GLOEY WOELE-. 323 
 
 thunder, muttering ominously in the dark distance, vrhile lurid 
 clouds moved fitfully over the firmament. Ere they had re- 
 covered from the momentary shock, another intense flash swept 
 round them, and immediately over their heads burst a thunder- 
 clap so loud that the distant hills seemed to tremble as it rever- 
 berated through them, and the moaning wind shrieked as in 
 terror. . 
 
 Clinging to her husband's arm, and hiding her pale face on 
 his breast, in an excited tone, Mary exclaimed — 
 
 " Oh, beloved, take me away ! I cannot bear the terrible 
 thoughts that are flashing through mv brain !" 
 
 Deeply pained, Courtenaye twined his arms lovingly round 
 the fluttering bird nestling on his breast, and in cheering 
 accents repeated the majestic old Psalm, — 
 
 " He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High, shall 
 abide under the shadow oj the Almighty. 
 
 " / will say oj the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress : my 
 God, in him will I trust. 
 
 " He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt 
 thou trust : His truth shall be thy shield and buckler. 
 
 " Thou shalt not beafraidjor the terror by night; nor for the 
 airow that jlieth by day ; 
 
 " N~or for the pestilence that ivalketh in darkness ; nor for the de- 
 struction that icasteth at noonday. 
 
 " A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right 
 hand ; but it shall not come nigh thee." 
 
 Ah, faithful soldier of the Cross ! brace that soft spirit for 
 the foreshadowed battle-plain, by the teachings of inspiration ! 
 Buckle over its dove-like palpitations "the whole armour of 
 faith !" The only panoply whose brightness salt tears cannot 
 rust ! The only coat of mail no earthly arrow can penetrate ! 
 
 Ah, clasping tendril ! cling to thy soldier's breast, as he sings 
 the jubilant strain of the undaunted Victor King ; but if now 
 thy faith be as a " reed shaken with the wind,"' how wilt thou 
 do when the blast sweeps by ! If now, "when lilies are growing 
 in green pastures, and willows spring up by the water courses, 
 thine head is bowed as the bulrush/' how wilt thou do in the 
 u swellings of Jordan ?" 
 
 Soothed by the song', Mary raised her head from its loving 
 resting place, and they entered the room where their litt.e 
 slumberers reposed in that sinless sleep which onlv childhood 
 
 x"2 
 
324 A LIFE-LCXN'G STOBY. 
 
 knows ; bending over them, they printed soft kisses on those 
 innocent lips, and Courtenaye tenderly whispered, "our stars ;" 
 and then the old smile came back to Mary's beautiful face, and 
 the evening prayer, prefaced with " Thy ivill be done,' ' was never 
 uttered with deeper fervour. 
 
 m Often, and often in after life, when earth had grown dark, 
 and the blast troubled the springs of memory, did that star, 
 that storm, that prayer start into shadowy existence, and 
 wander through the desolate chambers of Mary's heart. 
 
 " God sends us ministers in love, 
 Which we regard not, being near ; 
 Death takes them from us ; then we know 
 That angels have been with us here." 
 
 r The face of Mary's second-born — her beauty-bird, as she 
 called him — wore that indescribable expression between soft- 
 ness and sadness, rarely found but on those brows destined for 
 early immortality. The dreamy, spiritual gaze of his dark 
 hazel eye, bearing in its wondrous organization the autograph 
 of God, seemed ever fixed on some bright distant object, 
 reflecting back into its depths a tender brilliancy ; the cooing 
 murmur of its little voice, the loving gentleness of its disposi- 
 tion, the extraordinary early recognition of individuals and 
 things it evinced, had frequently drawn from untutored lips, 
 and especially from those of his admiring nurse, "who 
 never saw the* like of him in all her born days," (a remark by 
 the way, she had applied to every child she had nursed for 
 five-and-thirty years) that he was "too sensible too live." 
 After all, there may be glimmerings of truth in this time- 
 honoured "saw;" why may not glory-rays be already over- 
 shadowing the little pilgrim, visible only to the eye which has 
 never looked on the guilt of earth, or become clouded by the mists 
 of sin ? " and if there are mysterious channels by which the 
 first Adam's sin entered, why may there not be also channels 
 for the second Adam's righteousness ?" and inasmuch as in 
 these wee immortals there is no unbelief to shut out the glory, 
 may not the radiant imagery of heaven fuse itself _ in its rapt 
 gaze ? May they not even even see a group of " shining ones " 
 
ONE IS THE GLOEY WOELD. 325 
 
 on the other side of life's river, wooing thein from the " evil to 
 come," into the outstretched arms of Him " whose face they 
 have ever beheld," and who when on earth, " took a little child 
 and set him in the midst;" and more — may not these rays be 
 gradually preparing them for that ineffable burst of uncreated 
 glory, in the presence chamber of the Holy of Holies, that 
 would otherwise be too dazzling for its vision ? 
 
 It was scarce possible to look on the boy's face and not 
 think of angels. Perhaps Mary had done so, for that night 
 her heart had grown faint, she knew not why, as she bent over 
 the sleeping child, little dreaming that its slumber would soon 
 be exchanged for that mysterious repose which knows no 
 earthly waking ; longer than usual had she lingered about his 
 cot — again and again did she print the last kiss on his white 
 brow, ere she sought her rest ; and she had not been many 
 hours in her room when she was hastily called to his side 
 by the frightened nurse. Oh ! what can it be ! As the 
 idolatrous mother bent over the bird of beauty, one of his 
 tiny hands opened and shut convulsively ; the silken lashes 
 beat with fearful rapidity on his rose-leaf cheek ; and in an 
 instant the whole expression of the face wore a distorted and 
 terrible aspect, while a faint moan wailed from its blackened 
 lip ! Half frantic, Mary summoned assistance, but vain is the 
 help of man ! Skill and effort alike fail, and after an agonizing 
 four hours, that seem tortured into ages by the stricken parents, 
 the shadow that gathers but once, crept over the brow of the 
 young immortal, and the stillness that precedes dissolution 
 pervaded the little form. 
 
 Poor young mother ! Let the ransomed spirit go ! Lay thy 
 broken flower on the far- stretching branches of the Tree of 
 Life! 
 
 Hear ye not the tuning of golden harps falling e'en now, with 
 wondrous melody, on the ravished ear of thy blessed child ? 
 
 See ye not myriad infant hands, without whose touch the 
 music of heaven hath lost its sweetest note, sweeping the chords 
 of that majestic lyre ? 
 
 See ye not troops of bright angels waving their wings of 
 light, waiting to convey the young immoral into the bosom of 
 the Sinless — erst, may be, those who beheld its " Father's face 
 in heaven ? " 
 
 Poor young mother ! the echo of the Christ-taught prayer 
 
926 A LIFE-LONG STOET. 
 
 still lingers on the household air, rolled from thy lip, " Thy will 
 be done ! " 
 
 Knowest thou not that u God loves a cheerful giver ? " 
 'Tis a hard faith- trial, but let thy darling go ! Softer will be 
 his pillow than even thy loving breast ! 
 
 Let him go, stricken mother ! May be he has already tasted 
 a drop of life's Marah mixed in his tiny cup, and turns away to 
 drink at that stream which no bitterness invades. 
 
 May be he has heard the angels whispering that earth bears 
 no cedar where the bird of beauty may build its nest so high, 
 but the bird of sorrow will flap over it its raven wing. 
 
 May be it's soul's eyes have seen the Serpent's trail on the 
 fairest — the worm of decay at the root of the brightest — of all 
 earth's flowers. 
 
 Oh, let it go ! that 'it's first words may mingle with heaven* a 
 eternal anthem, — 
 
 "Worthy the Lamb that was slain!" 
 . Let it go — 
 
 " For of such is the kingdom of heaven /" 
 
 Let it go — ! 
 
 u For the blood it might have slighted, 
 Has washed it pure within, 
 And the evil seed is blighted, 
 That had darkened into sin.'' 
 
 Yes ! let it go, ere doubt's shadow has rested on its trusting 
 spirit ; ere the arrow of despair has transfixed the wing ot 
 hope ; ere cankering care eats off the buds of happiness ; ere 
 sin veils its spirit with its dark and deadly folds ; ere it knows 
 the import of those withering words, to paet, to die ! 
 
 Poor mother ! J 
 
 " Thro' the night that dragged so slowly, 
 Rachel watched beside a bed, 
 Weeping wildly, kneeling lowly, 
 She would not be comforted. 
 
 To her lost one she was clinging, 
 Raining tears upon a shroud, 
 
 She could hear no angels singing, 
 See no brightness in the cloud." 
 
 An old writer, when endeavouring to speak comfort to a 
 
0>~E iy THE GL0£T WORLD. 327 
 
 mother, bending 'neath the blow that struck down her fair and 
 only child, exquisitely says — 
 
 " After all, it is only gone to bed a little while before its 
 mother, as children are wont to go." 
 
 Alas ! bereaved mother, she would have had it li stay up a 
 little longer." 
 
 That was a marvellous pleasant conceit of the Spanish 
 painter, tesselating the vault of heaven with infant faces. 
 
 That was a tender thought of immortal Watts — {i The harp 
 of heaven had lost its sweetest string, if infant hands had never 
 learnt to play thereon." 
 
 But, oh ! tenderer, sweeter far, was the act of the sympathis- 
 ing Jesus! His omnicient eye, looking down the vista of 
 human grief, saw the tear3 of mothers " bereaved of their 
 children " forming a mighty river, that nought but hope for a 
 future meeting with their folded lambs could stay in its course 
 — nought but faith in divine love could ford, and u He took 
 them up in His arms, and blessed them." 
 
 u Took them up in his arms !" Oh, wondrous condescen- 
 sion! Blessed them." Oh, wondrous love! And then, as if 
 even this significant act could not express the comprehensive 
 sympathy of His heart, He declares ,; of such is the kingdom 
 of heaven.'' 
 
 He at whose word the mountain waves nncrest, and ripple a 
 soft peace-song, and grizly Death relaxes his sovereign gripe — 
 He declares, " of such is "the kingdom of heaven." 
 
 Ah, there were men who would have kept the little ones 
 from Jesus in those days, even as there are now ; but listen to 
 His mild rebuke : — 
 
 " Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, 
 for " — mark the reason, mothers of angels — " of suck is the king- 
 dom of heaven." 
 
 Yes, ye Rachels, who refuse ' ; to be comforted because they 
 are not ;" ye who have one,two, three in that blessed kingdom,— 
 
 ••' Look to the flight of the spirit's wing, 
 Thro' the glorious fields of air, 
 Look to the world, where the angels sing, 
 And see that ye meet them there." 
 
 They linger, <; looking back for you to come," — oh, disap- 
 point them not ! — 
 
 " Se# that ye meet them there." 
 
328 A LIFE-LOXG STOUT. 
 
 Frustrate not the mercy that gathered your blossom, but 
 left a sweet perfume as 'twas borne away, by which you may 
 track your path-way home to their " Father and your Father." 
 
 Ah, that. is a stern and traitor-teaching which would shut 
 out of the kingdom of heaven the " little children" who have 
 not been brought to the " mystic font." 
 
 Heed it not, stricken mothers ! Heed not the false creed 
 that deprives thy little one of a Christian burial ! 
 
 What though the wee dust is refused a decent grave ; the 
 little glorified spirit sings in a " temple not made with hands, 
 eternal in the heavens." 
 
 Listen once again to the heart-music of thy Saviour's words, 
 — lay hold of them — bind them as balm of Gilead round the 
 wounds Death has made — string them as pearls from the depths 
 of the ocean of eternal love about thy soul — 
 
 " Of such is the kingdom: of heaven." 
 
 "The blood of Christ cleanseth from all sin" — ALL sin! 
 who shall talk of " uncovenanted mercy " in the face of this 
 precious truth ! 
 
 Never did the memory of that first mother-grief fade from 
 Mary's heart; often, amid the desolation that wrapt her after life 
 in its dark folds, giving 
 
 " For every flower a thousand tares," 
 
 has she unrolled the scroll of the past, and seen through its 
 tears and blots, the pale still face of her coffin-cradled boy in 
 its strange solemn beauty, standing out in mournful relief, like 
 a "Forget-me-not," raising its heart-moving eye, mid the 
 carnage of a battle plain ; and though in the " training school 
 for immortality " she has learnt to bow her meek head, and say 
 with the Shunamite of old" It is well with the child" yet shadows 
 gather and flicker over her soul, and will do so till that blessed 
 morn shall break, and they shall for ever flee away. 
 
 Xever did the memory of that mysterious drawing, which 
 once again laid hold of her soul as she held her dying baby on 
 her lap ; or of that unseen agency which, with such marvellous 
 power foreshadowed the blow, pass away. 
 
0"S"E EST THE GLOHT WORLD. 329 
 
 " Oh ! that with mortal eye she could pierce the veil ana 
 look on those subtle links, uniting her /to the invisible and 
 spiritual world ! 
 Vain yearner, wait, 
 
 * For the hour, the hour is hastening, 
 Spirit shall with spirit blend, 
 Fast mortality is wasting, 
 
 Then the secret all shall end." 
 
 And though God gave her another son, he never took the 
 place of that fair child from whose grave a few white 
 violets rest upon her heart, each time the " voice of the turtle 
 dove is heard in the land, and the singing "birds come," bringing 
 the thought that her bird's song is uniting in the lofty anthem 
 of the Redeemed. 
 
 That no winter shall succeed its spring and hush its melody, 
 for it nestles in the branches of the Tree that bears its fruits 
 every month for the healing of the nations, and whose leaves 
 never grow sere and fall blighted and sighing to the earth, as 
 the " wolfish winds unfold their angry wings." 
 
 Not long after the loss of her boy, Mary had to weep over 
 another early grave : " Death loves a lofty mark !" 
 
 How often we hear the plaint, " poor fellow, he was the 
 best of the family !" " Ah, she was the sweetest of them all !" 
 
 True, true ! and hence more meet for heaven. 
 
 As we " live not unto ourselves, so ice die not unto ourselves" — 
 many a long slighted lesson has been burnt into the heart by 
 the silent teaching of the vacant place ; many a soul brought to 
 the foot of the Cros3 by the lingering echo of a dying word. 
 
 Yet when we see those whose entire lives have been devoted 
 to the holy labour of "making rough places plain," and "crooked 
 paths straight," suddenly stricken into the grave ; when plans 
 and prospects of usefulness are apparently for ever frustrated 
 by the stern Destroyer, it requires more than mere intellectual 
 faith to take the mountain of mystery, and cast it into the sea 
 of G-od's love. 
 
 Faith's finger must ever rest upon its key-note — 
 
 " What I do thou hiowest not now, hut thou shcdt know here- 
 after." 
 
330 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 It must be soul-faith, immoveable, undaunted, anchored on 
 the words of Him " who spake as never man spake." 
 
 The childless Shunamite knew it when she laid her dead boy 
 in the "little chamber," and sought the heights of Carmel, 
 bowing her regal head at the prophet's feet, and murmuring, 
 u It is well with the child ! " 
 
 The Syro-Phoenician kne wit, when unquailing before the harsh 
 cry "Send her away!" or the strong faith-trial of her sympa- 
 thizing Saviour, she exclaimed : " truth, Lord, hut the dogs eat of 
 the crumbs that fall from the master's table." 
 
 The sister of Bethany knew it, when she raised her tear- 
 dimmed eye to the compassionate face of Jesus, and exclaimed, 
 " Lord, if thou hadst been here my brother had not died!" 
 
 Ay, andjthousands more have known it, whose names are not 
 written on the scroll of Time, but in the records of Eternity. 
 
 In the midst of a career of usefulness, and exertions for the 
 relief of the spiritual and moral destitution of all who came 
 within her sphere, and in the zenith of a life of activity and 
 zeal in the cause of the right and true, which writes false on 
 the assertion women so frequently make to cover indolence and 
 apathy, that they have " no influence," " no power," " no * 
 opportunity," our old friend and favorite (for she was every- 
 body's favorite), Mrs. Leslie, was called to render an account 
 of her stewardship ; after sl] few hours of terrible suffering, in 
 which her patient endurance realized to the afflcted bystanders 
 how a child of G-od can 
 
 " Bear and suffer, dignifying pain," 
 
 her spirit took the place prepared for it in the mansions, scarce 
 more an angel than she was on earth ; and her stricken husband 
 had to mourn the loss of wife and infant in one stern stroke. 
 At the early age of twenty-three she passed away, leaving 
 behind a radiance and perfume wherewith the bereaved might 
 learn to trace her to the skies, and recognize her there by the 
 robes she wore below. 
 
 How the poor missed her, and the aged sighed for the gentle 
 teacher, who had borne with their prejudices and ignorance, 
 oyercoming them by the touch of love ! 
 
0>'E IN THE GLOET WOULD." 331 
 
 How the City Mission went mourning on its God-blessed 
 way, and the Dorcas Society bowed its head and wept ! 
 
 How the degraded and unfortunate of her own sex mourned 
 the loss of her, who had ever a word of warning and entreaty, 
 or of sympathy and encouragement ! — How — but where shall 
 we stop ! 
 
 " The day icill declare all ihings." 
 
 Bright be the place of thy soul, 
 
 No lovelier spirit than thine, 
 Ever broke from its mortal control, 
 
 On the orbs of the blessed to shine !" 
 
 The melancholy widower, unable to bear the home where every 
 object was eloquent with the memory of his vanished happi- 
 ness, in hope of banishing the sorrow that preyed on his spirit, 
 at the entreaty of Fred and Courtenaye, consented to accom- 
 pany the former in a tour, but not before he had placed his 
 only treasure, Donald, now a bright, spirited little fellow of four 
 years old, in Mary's arms, bidding her to be " mother to the 
 shorn lamb ;" need we say how eagerly she took upon herself 
 the touching office, for the sainted mother's as much as for the 
 child's sake ? Had not that mother been her sister, counsellor, 
 friend ? 
 
 Too young to realize the truth that 
 
 "We can have but one mother," 
 
 and yet old enough to weep for the return of his absent 
 playmate, who he often said, in a troubled tone, " seemed to stay 
 away a great long while," the little Donald became another house- 
 hold treasure in the pastor's happy home, and it was surpassing 
 pleasant to mark the friendship that sprung up between the 
 little May, as the boy called Mary's eldest child^ and himself. 
 If she cried, her tears were kissed away and his young arm 
 thrown protectingly over her, as he repeated the old-fashioned 
 entreaty, " don't cry ! don't cry, May !" to which he would 
 sometimes add, fiercely, " when I am a man I will shoot every 
 body who makes you cry !" 
 
 Yet, with these very warlike propensities, he was a noble- 
 hearted thing, and one day, when May, in an ardour of scientific 
 research, cut open his new drum to find out where the noise 
 came from, he assured her with the most dashing nonchalance, 
 
■ faV ~± 
 
 
 of ilaih am 
 
 to. Vnn w uni fitde giris 
 
 Sb 
 
 - 
 
 ■ t_ i 
 
334 A IIFE-LO>~G STOET. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 XtgM nub ttaimess— another Unfortunate. 
 
 " Alas ! alas ! that woman gifted with an angel's powers, sent on an 
 angel's mission, should be content with the butterfly -life of a pleasure- 
 seeking fashionist !" — Fanny Fer>". 
 
 "A very considerable part of the suffering to which these young women 
 are exposed, must be traced directly to those in a higher class of life, who 
 thoughtlessly order what must be supplied at once, although, in the supply 
 of it, the very thews and sinews of the producers of the work are sacrificed. 
 It is for flower-shows, balls, and other entertainments ; it is for the gay 
 dancing of painted butterflies in the summer sun ; it is for such things as 
 these that young sisters and daughters are to offered up at the shrine of this 
 modern Molochism, in the Valley of Abomination.*' — Bishop of Oxford. 
 
 u We want a new race of wives and mothers, the women of the present 
 day are not the women for their times."' — Lord Shaftesbury. 
 
 The clock peals out the midnight hour, and carriages are 
 flashing past, bearing buoyant beings, over whose brows the 
 pall of Sorrow, with its many dark folds, has never been flung. 
 Low light laughter stirs the subdued air of Night, and thoughts 
 of painless triflers, culling life's gayest flowers, rush into the 
 gazer's mind. Onward they roll, little dreaming that around 
 them are huddled together in pestilent atmospheres* un- 
 
 * Now observe, at the age of sixteen or seventeen begins the most extreme 
 pressure of the work upon them. At that age the health requires more than 
 ordinary care to fit women for the duties of life in after years, yet even the 
 food with which they are supplied is often deficient in quantity and inferior 
 in quality. They are confined in rooms of the most impure and depressing 
 atmosphere, and there, for eighteen or nineteen hours, without intermission, 
 are they kept at this terrible toil. I should like very much to ask of those 
 gallant^Eoldiers who returned the other day from the Crimea what were their 
 
another ryroHTr>"ATE. 335 
 
 numbered creatures, tender, gentle, and theoretically free as 
 themselves, straining their yielding sinews and fevered eye-balls 
 to prepare the dainty robes that are to vie one with the other 
 amid scenes of luxurious pleasure. 
 
 Come, daughters of Christian Britain, who " care for none of 
 these things," peep into yonder shop, lifting its stuccoed front 
 as demurely as if there were no " whited sepulchres, filled with 
 dead bone's, and all uncleanness." 2say, shrink not back! 
 Why tremble ? there is no cause for fear ! Those emaci- 
 ated shapes are "bone of your bone," have been cherished 
 as fondly, and have smiled as blithely as you have, ere the 
 cloud of reversing poverty fell on their homes, blotting out 
 all life's sunshine. 
 
 Look now, we beseech you into the thickly-denizened room, 
 bestrewed with shreds from countless costly looms. Make you 
 " faint," does it ? Ah, and no wonder ! Then how could you 
 sit for weeks and months, till your reddened eye retreated in 
 its socket, your form lost its erectness, your fingers grew lean 
 and trembling with excessive toil ;* your thoughts far away with 
 kindlv hearts and familiar voices, whose music made precious 
 your childhood's home, while ever-returning memories of the 
 ruined father and the broken-hearted mother, darken the 
 present — all dark enough . 
 
 You "cannot stay r"— Go then, pretty butterfly! The 
 miasma would tarnish thy spangled wings, and enfeeble their 
 flutter in prosperity's sun; but know that "toe all these 
 
 THINGS, G-OD WILL BBJ^G THEE I>'TO JUDGMENT." But We 
 
 will look on yet awhile, though the heart may grow faint 
 and sicken. How ghastly white, under the fever-blotch on 
 
 sufferings in the trendies, and I am sure I could bring a parallel to those 
 sufferings in many of the working establishments of this great city. — LOED 
 K. Grosvexob. 
 
 Yet we are exposing to the pressure of that enormous labour those who are at 
 the earliest age, of the most delicate frames, who ought not to be subjected to 
 eevere labour, who cannot bear labour so crushing ; and the result I need not 
 tell you, the fevered pulse, the languid and then the glazed eye, the sinking 
 limb, the feeble and diminished strength ; this going on day by day, till at 
 last merciful disease,— long resisted, when the poor thing ought to have been 
 laid on the bed of tending care, — merciful disease closes the scene, and an 
 early grave shuts it up.— J. C. CoLQUHOuy, Esq. 
 
 * Many gave way during the night, not only falling asleep with the work 
 in their hands, but quite unable to perform their usual quantity the next day 
 from langour and loss of appetite.— From evidence lefore the Home of Lords. 
 
336 A LirE-LO'G STOET. 
 
 each attenuated cheek, is the face of yonder reed-like girl, 
 whose ebon hair waves over a brow of thought, and whose 
 form a painter might covet for a sylph, or a sculptor for 
 TJrania. How harshly the " hacking " cough mingles with the 
 rustle of the gorgeous material, which her wasting life is 
 shaping into a robe, " to be done immediately." What a 
 garish, oppressive light pervades the room ! Ay, they must 
 see to work, though the air, poisoned and feculent with feverish 
 breath, pollutes the springs of health and saps the last energy 
 that toil has spared ; even the screening shutters are braced 
 and barred lest an out-streaming ray betray the foul deeds 
 within.* How those many-hued robes contrast with the 
 shadowy beings creating them ! Flowers in a charnel-house ! 
 — The murmurs of an ^Eolian through reeking shambles ! Yet 
 there is another young girl ; she has none of the proud beauty 
 that flashes from'the brow of the first victim, but what inno- 
 cence sits on the weary face ! How protection-appealing is the 
 wasting' grace of her form ! She was the heart-poem of a 
 loving home ere her father fell in his country's cause, and 
 her mother slept in the old churchyard. Why does she so 
 frequently wipe her soft hazel eye, and press her fingers on the 
 hot swollen lid ? Why does she close her eyes and bow down 
 low over her work, and the next moment hastily use the 
 pungent smelling-bottle — the allowed luxury become a stern 
 necessity — till they swim with burning water, and are roused 
 to their task again ? 
 
 Ah! she is the swiftest, most skilful embroiderer; and 
 though the doctor told her, only the day before, she was 
 
 * In some cases they have been kept working from Thursday morning 
 
 until far into Sunday morning, without sleep 
 
 nor is this all, as if to make matters -worse, the shcutters are totally closed ; 
 so as to exclude all proper ventilation, lest the light from the ivindovjs should 
 reveal to the neighbours to what late hours the v:orl; is carried on (!!!). It is 
 by no means an uncommon thing — indeed, it takes place almost every day — 
 that the workwomen faint in the room, and are borne off hurriedly, and left, 
 that their neighbours may proceed again with their work as quickly &s pos- 
 sible. Consumption is frequently the end of this course, sometimes blindness, 
 and occasionally insanity." — From facts furnished by D. Geatn'GEE, Esq. 
 
 These terrible facts ought to be soon broad-cast throughout our land. ^ Ther 
 wants more popular enlightenment on the subject ; many ladies, both in Lon- 
 don and in the country to whom the writer has spoken concerning it, have 
 never so much as heard of a. society for the protection of oppressed milliners 
 and dressmakers ; or even #f such being necessary ! 
 
ANOTHER TjSTORTTTNATE. 337 
 
 " blinding herself," what can she do ? Poor heart ! she must 
 work, starte, or SIX ! aud though a few hours' rest would 
 infuse fresh vigour into eye and limb, she cannot pause, she is 
 hurrying over a mourning order,* " to be clone immediately" 
 the wealthy woman for whom it is so elaborately prepared will 
 not be disappointed ; she must mourn in the height of fashion ! 
 
 Twelve o'clock, and they quaff the drugged coffee, or drain 
 the exciting tea, and the wheels of energy that had for a mo- 
 ment dragged slowly, move on with accelerated speed under 
 the subtle, deadlv infusion. 
 
 One o'clock, and 'tis the blessed Sabbath ; yet still the toil goes 
 on, audits sacred hours bring no relief; the dress musthe finished, 
 no matter at what cost" of soul, flesh, and blood ; and the be- 
 reaved lady for whom this labour is extorted from dying fingers 
 — with no" higher claims to immortality than the meanest of 
 her down-trodden sisters, and the poorest of these slaves of 
 fashion and cupidity,— complacently places her donation on 
 the salver passed o'bsequiously into her luxurious pe^v, for 
 the Ophthalmic or Consumptive Hospital, and congratulates 
 herself as a living epitome of the religion of the self-denying 
 Saviour, well meriting the commendation, " good and faithful 
 servant /" 
 
 Ay, reader, even dressed in the robe on which those skeleton 
 fingers have plied on that sacred Day, till the blood has started — 
 satisfied that the pulses of her piety " beat healthfully"— the 
 mourning fashionist sentimentally joins in the world-wide sup- 
 plication, — 
 
 " We beseech Thee to have mercy upon all that are desolate, 
 and oppressed," and believes herself fully entitled to the Divine 
 commendation, " Well done !" 
 
 "A change passes o'er the spirit of our dream." Look at 
 von flail, with its artistic arrangements ! what fairy fingers 
 have wrought magic there, or what enchanter's wand has 
 charmed into being these bewitching scenes ? What magi- 
 cian's rod has been stretched out, transforming the common- 
 
 * It is true as the Bishop has said, that in cases of private morning srr^afc 
 demands are made But when there comes — as tnere oc- 
 casionally does come — what is ordinarily called a " Court Mourning," thar. 
 presses upon all establishments, then it is that the most frightful results take 
 place. — Lord Shaftesbury. 
 
 z 
 
338 A LUE-LOXG STOEY. 
 
 place of every-day life into such a glittering panorama ? Hark, 
 to those entrancing strains ! now swelling into lofty measure, 
 anon sinking into voluptuous murmurs, -while riclier and deeper 
 still, the human voice blends its music, in tones so joyous that 
 no note in the well-tuned diapason seems formed for the wail 
 of grief or shriek of despair. Look at those dear memory - 
 awakening flowers ! drink in the perfume exhaling from their 
 man v -tinted hearts, as the softened light from a thousand 
 lu=tres sheds a dreamy halo over their clustering glory. 
 
 " The morning flowers display their Bwec 
 And gay their silken leaves unfold, 
 As careless of the noontide heats, 
 As fearless of the evening cold. 
 
 Nip't by the wind'9 unkindly blast, 
 
 lurched by the sun's directer ray, 
 The momentary glories waste, 
 
 The short lived beauties die away." 
 
 But there are brighter things than these in that gorgeous 
 Hall. There are creatures of light and loveliness such as poets 
 love to paint, rich in all the li poetry of motion," swayed by 
 the poetry of sound, floating through the mazy dance. What 
 untold wealth of beaming eyes and loving hearts ! What an 
 argosy of tresses — here the raven's wing, there the golden 
 banner ! What enchanting grace dwells in the fall of those 
 ivory shoulders ! What imperial beauty sits enthroned on 
 those flushed brows ! What sunny smiles wreath those 
 chiseled lips : 
 
 " So blooms the human face divine, 
 "When youth its pride of beauty shows, 
 Fairer than spring the colours shine, 
 And s weeter than the virgin rose ; 
 
 But worn by slowly rolling years, 
 
 Or broke by sickness, in a day 
 The fading glory disappears, 
 
 The short-lived beauties die away." 
 
 There is one amid that dazzling throng, the unconscious 
 Cvnosure of all eyes ; not for her queen-iike form, for there are 
 many such in that gathering ; not for the beauty of her face, 
 for there are many around as fair as she ; not for the rare 
 jewels that deck her brow, for there are eyes in that Hall out- 
 
A5T0THEB "OTORTUS'ATE. 339 
 
 shining all their splendour ; but for the expression of hopeless, 
 passionate sadness brooding like a death-shadow over the beau- 
 teous countenance. Sadness on the brow of a three-months' 
 bride ! And some look mysterious, others curious, and the 
 rest well-informed ; but all perfecty well bred. 
 
 Hark ! was it a shriek sweeping round the tapestried walls ? 
 Strange ball-room harmony ! 
 
 Why that eager simultaneous rush to the far end of the 
 Hall ? Ah, that queenly one has fainted ! See, she bends 
 like a broken lily, as the arm of her husband is stretched to 
 support her. "Fainted?" Oh, no, no! From her parted 
 lips the purple life-stream is gushing ! It stains her snowy 
 bosom ! It clots on her costly robe ! She has burst an artery, 
 and ere the exclamations of wonder, or regret, or sympathy 
 have died away from the gathering crowd, the husband bends 
 in mute agony over the dead body of his beautiful wife.* Man 
 of skill, vain are thy efforts ! Agonised friend, thy tears c 
 not stay the spirit 'fluttering on Time's shore ! Husband of 
 weeks, thy coffers cannot bribe the Destroyer ! thine up-raised 
 arm cannot stay the stroke ! Look close — draw near to that 
 beauteous face — there is a shadow gathering over it, on which 
 none may gaze, and cherish hope ! 
 
 " Mourn, the sweetest bride is dead ; 
 Cold and frail and fair she lieth ; 
 
 Once — but what avails it now ? — 
 Once she wore within her bosom 
 Pity, which did never fail, 
 A hue that dash'd the lily pale ; 
 And upon her cheek a blossom 
 Such as yet was never known. 
 All is past and overthrown I" 
 
 A few moments before the " sweetest bride," all radiant with 
 happiness, decked herself for her first appearance in society in 
 that interesting character, an envelope containing several letters 
 was put into her hand, which, after perusing, she placed in her 
 dressing case, without a tear or sigh ; but in an instant a terrible 
 change passed over her being ! Death had darted his arrow into 
 her heart, and left it there to fester for a few anguished hours ? 
 ere he drew it out and her life current with it. 
 
 * Fact. 
 
 z2 
 
340 A LIEE-LONG STORY. 
 
 Surely some fiend must have penned those mysterious 
 words ! What could their import portend ? 
 
 O ! it is but another every day tale, but it was new to the 
 trusting wife ; the blow that broke her heart was dealt by her 
 husband's hand ! " Yes, Tier husband's ! Bich, handsome, 
 and dissipated, mothers hailed his entrance into the sacred pre- 
 cincts of the family circle, and fathers gave him the right hand 
 of fellowship. 
 
 " What ! knowing he was dissipated ?'' 
 
 Yes ! they knew he was rich, and their girls were marriage- 
 able, what matter if he was a "little profligate ;" and so they 
 entrusted these unsullied creatures to the care of the destroyer; 
 and brothers, who in the morning ride had met him with his 
 victim seated by his side, in the dashing vehicle he was driving, 
 resigned to him his sister for the evening waltz ! 
 
 Mothers, who had grouped together, whispering mysteriously 
 over reports that from the under current of society welled up 
 and overspread its upper surface, nodded and smiled affec- 
 tionately, as the titled profligate, with one of their daughters 
 hanging on his arm, made his way towards their circle ! 
 
 Two years previous to the event related, the destroyer had 
 marked a victim from that numerous and fated class, me out-door 
 apprentices of our dress making establishments, whose beauty 
 of form and face attracted the coarse slave of passion. K"eed 
 we sicken over the details of scheme, plot, oaths, and false- 
 hoods ere he bore off the reed-like girl, who shone so con- 
 spicuously as we looked into the closely-denizened work-room, 
 or follow her step by step, as 
 
 " The weary slave faints at the galling oar," 
 
 and, driven at last to despair, listens to the advice of a sister- 
 victim, who has fled from one evil to a greater ? — 
 
 " Why not escape as I have done, and live in luxury ? Why 
 go on crushed and heart-sick as you are going on, and not make 
 a living after all ? Why don't you leave it as 1 have ? I am 
 iiappy enough," she added in a tone that belied her words " I 
 never do any work now, and never intend tc again ! And as to 
 all their talk about ' doing our duty ' ana making us kneel 
 down to prayers, with their mockery, I am quite as good now as 
 1 was then, for then I had no time to read or pray, as I pro- 
 
ANOTHER UNFORTUNATE. 311 
 
 mised poor father I would ; * and now I don't want to. I may 
 as well be shut out of heaven from one place as another, if we 
 are to be shut out !" 
 
 This terrible casuistry acted but too powerfully on the pliant 
 creature to whom it was addressed, and within a week she 
 became the caressed bauble of the courted t profligate ; all the 
 peace and purity wrenched for ever from the child' of a poor 
 but faithful minister of God. 
 
 Surely we may be pardoned for repeating, in all their sug- 
 gestiveness, those words used in reference to another neglected 
 class, but equally applicable to this : — 
 
 " No wonder they resort to crime rather than submit!" Oh! 
 let us pause, and reflect on what that fate must be, from which 
 the delicately, often prayerfully, brought up victims, rush to 
 gilded guilt, and thence to self destruction ! 
 
 But the end came ! 
 
 Darkness sits on the mighty City: the wind now moans 
 fitfully, anon breaks into shrieks, as if startled at the foul deeds 
 around. A few pale stars look down on the waters whose 
 polluted breast reflects not back their pure ray. Sullenly the 
 waves lash the piers of a bridge connecting either side of the 
 great Babylon, whose pulse is beating languidly. Here and 
 there a carriage rolls heavily, conveying some gambler from a 
 secret Pandemonium, or late party from scenes of meretricious 
 
 * If here the form of religion is maintained, matters are made still worse ; 
 it seems such a mockery. 
 
 "And to sum up all, the mockery is made complete in some houses by 
 calling them up to family prayers at the close of the day — that is if business 
 permits, though in some instances they return to their work for a time after 
 prayers. Family worship, indeed ! ' We thank Thee, Father, for the 
 favourable circumstances in which we are placed, and for the mercies of the 
 day, is the prayer of such an one. 'Favourable circumstances /' Let the 
 blood-shot eyes, the swollen limbs, the pale faces, the emaciated forms, the 
 hectic flush, the glassy eye, and the hacking, hollow cough of incipient con- 
 sumption, with other evils so numerous that their name i3 legion, proclaim 
 throughout the length and breadth of Christendom the favourable circum- 
 stances in which these sacrificial offerings to the demands of Fashion are 
 found.*' 
 
 These statements are given by an eye-witness, one who has passed through 
 it all, and, to some extent, been a victim of this slavery. — D. Grainger, Esq. 
 
 t In grappling with our social evils, are they met full-faced ? Is not the 
 view one-sided, one-eyed ? Is not sweet put for bitter, and contrarywise ? 
 The day will declare. 
 
342 A LITE-LOyG STOET. 
 
 splendour and deadly mirth, or physician from the bed of agony 
 and death. 
 
 Suddenly a white figure springs upon the parapet — a flash — 
 a shriek — a plunge — and the gurgling waters close over the 
 grave of despair, then beat as sullenly, murmur as hoarsely, moan 
 as fitfully as before. The stars shiDe meekly down, the carriages 
 roll heavily on ; the destroyer smiles blandly still, and beauty's 
 cheek prows rich at his flattering words ; thus Xight wears 
 away : Morn opens her laughing eye, and anon a young fair form 
 is slowly dragged up. Oh ! 
 
 " Lay her down tenderly 
 Fashion" d so rienderiy 
 
 1 Eut alone she died not : on her pulseless breast nestles a baby- 
 form ; the sullen waves have lashed in vain over that clasp ; the 
 deadmother's hair falls dank and glossy over the dead boy's face ; 
 yet surely he but sleeps, a calm bright sleep, and those veined 
 lids will yet unclose, revealing the beauty of his eye ! Can it 
 be death ! One tiny waxen hand is pressed firmly into the 
 snow of that milkless bosom ; the pouting baby-lip still lingers 
 en the sacred fount. Poor infant ! did thy mother stop the 
 heart-smiting murmur of thy voice, drowning it in ' : Nature's 
 great Nile," ere she took the fearful leap ! 
 
 Poor baby ! did she who gave thee birth become unnerved for 
 the fatal deed as thy i: piping cry" smote on her broken heart, 
 and she hushed it thus : — 
 
 "We know not ; but tis passing solemn and sad, to look on all 
 this wreck. 
 
 Eyes, long used to scenes of death, grow red and full as they 
 gaze. Poor fools ! what, tears ! tears : 
 
 'tis o>"ly a deess.makee 1 
 
 "Why throw your eanr.ents over that still form of grace and 
 beauty, once palpitating with high hopes for the future, then 
 heaving under the grasp of despair ? 
 
 ! TIS 0>~LY A EEESSMAEETi ! 
 
 What though a mother's heart be broken, or a father's grey 
 hairs brought down with sorrow to the grave ! "What, though a 
 host of feeling, and energy, and aspirations that, properly trained, 
 might have made the dead creature there a "thin^ of beautv 
 and a joy for ever r 
 
 : IIS 0>~LY A DBE8SMAKEB ! 
 
ANOTHER UNFORTUNATE. 3 13 
 
 What though a soul, redeemed with the precious blood of 
 Jeans, be hurled unmeet ? 
 
 But we must pause, and only add, in the reverential language 
 of our leading journal : — i- It is not for us to say what 
 compensation may be reserved, elsewhere, for those who have 
 drawn so sad a number in the lottery of life."* 
 
 And then, poor victims of oppression with ' ; eound drowned'' 
 for requiem and epitaph, the bodies are indecently tumbled — 
 
 Oh ! lay her down tenderly 
 Fashioned so slenderly ! 
 
 into some hole of the earth, the authorities kindly permitting 
 the white arms of the mother to remain wreathed round her baby, 
 and her baby to sleep its long slumber on its mother's broken 
 heart 
 
 Poor murdered victims ! Sleep on in your " unconsecrated " 
 rest, from which only the Archangel's trump shall awaken vou ! 
 Nobody cares to sift the matter; these things are common, 
 and scarce excite a sigh. 
 
 Sleep on! No more grinding oppression and bitter taunts. 
 No more " words softer than honev'' from a tongue " set on fire 
 of hell!" 
 
 Sleep on ! No one goes to your unhallowed grave to weep love's 
 warm tears; no eye lingers fondly on your dishonoured remains. 
 
 Sleep on ! No eve 
 
 No Eye ? 
 
 " Listen te woioen that are at ease, caring for 
 none oe these things !" 
 
 ;; Listen te greedy oppressors oe the hireling," ye 
 pampered sons oe titled tice, " who lie in wait to de- 
 STROY the innocent!" Listen to the trumpet message — no 
 honied flatteries fall on vour ear. heralded bv the august pre- 
 face THUS SAITH THE LORD OF HOSTS— 
 
 "I HATE SEEN, I HAVE SEEN THINE INIQUITIES;" " AND 
 KNOW THAT EOR ALL THESE THINGS I WILL BRING THEE 
 UNTO JUDGMENT. " 
 
 But already, murdered victim, thy Nemesis is on her fiery 
 way. From papers left behind, there were letters written by the 
 crime -seared profligate for whom she gave up 
 
 " All hope of pardon on this side the g-ave;" 
 
 * Times, February 20, 1857. 
 
344 A LIPE-LONG- STOEX. 
 
 one penned but a short month before he married ! Here is 
 the arrow that pierced the heart of the trusting wife. 
 
 " Going to be married to ! "Who told you 
 
 this falsehood, queen of my soul ? Never, never! Had I not 
 been your witching beauty, I might have thought of her, but 
 while my heart beats, 'twill beat for you alone." 
 
 The accomplished betrayer wrote thus to his victim in Lon- 
 don from the country seat where he had poured into the ear 
 of his affianced wife words of deathless love and faith, to which 
 she listened with willing ear and trusting heart, for he was her 
 first and only love. 
 
 This letter fell into the hands of the suicide's only sister, and 
 in the anguish of her heart, she determined to send it, with ano- 
 ther written by herself, to the innocent wife, telling her all the 
 foul history ! 
 
 Too well did the unsuspecting woman recognise the hand- 
 writing that had so often quickened her heart's pulses ! 
 
 'Twasher death-blow ! 
 
 Brought up by a maiden aunt, and spending much of her 
 time in the country, the orphan knew nothing of the career of 
 her idol ; during the " season" in which he won her guileless 
 heart, she saw him nattered and caressed by virtuous-looking 
 mothers, welcomed by grey-headed fathers, petted and coquetted 
 with by unsophisticated daughters ; she knew herself envied as 
 his bride electphow could she deem him aught but what he 
 seemed ! Ah ! why could not her sacred character of orphan 
 protect her from the wiles of profligacy ! The same hand that 
 sent the dark history to the wife, penned the account of the 
 suicide to the guilty husband, and he found all the papers just 
 where the broken-hearted one, the only woman he had ever loved 
 and honoured, had placed them. 
 
 Shall we draw aside the curtain, and gaze on that wretched 
 man, as standing in mute horror, with livid cheek and staring 
 eye, he grasps in his palsied hands those fatal missives ? 
 
 $"ay, we will leave him alone with conscience. 
 
 Alas ! Alas ! • are then so many of the evils that pour down 
 our streets a burning flood, to be traced to the influence of wo- 
 man ! Is the mother-land of Hutchinson, Fry, Carpenter, Night- 
 ingale, Marsh, Martin, and a bright host whose names are in the 
 Book of Life to be any longer the nursery of crimes, at which 
 humanity sickens, and turns away her head 1 
 
A>"0THEI1 r>"rORTU>"ATE. 3-15 
 
 Are we indeed responsible, in a fearful measure, for the present 
 state of things ? 
 
 An observant prelate has furnished the key to this u Valley 
 of Abomination" — ;: Thoughtlessness." " The women of Eng- 
 land will not think of these things." Oh ! but will this fact ex- 
 cuse them: rather is not this very thoughtlessness sin ? "Why will 
 they not think, ere the day comes when they must do so ! Why, 
 like the daughters of Danaides, should they be ever drawing from 
 the wells of pleasure in vessels that cannot hold ! Steeped in 
 prosperity, are their hearts steeled to human sorrow and suffer- 
 ing ; deaf to the voice of compassion ; dead to all claims but 
 those of folly and fashion ! 
 
 No, no ! By all that is sacred and humainzing, no ! 
 
 A high-hearted philanthropist, who is stamping his impress 
 on the age, and whose name is a Pharos wherever want and 
 misery and wrong have left their footmarks, has publickly de- 
 clared " we want a new race of wives and mothers, the women 
 of the present day are not the women for their times ;" but 
 do we not want a new race of husbands, and fathers too ? 
 And while the author would rather agree on any subject con- 
 nected with our social evils and their remedy, with this working 
 follower of his Master, yet surely past experience would vindi- 
 cate our countrywomen from this wide-spreading belief; and 
 only the Day may reveal how much of the threefold regenera- 
 tion began, and being now carried on in our midst, is the work 
 of self-denying, thinking women. 
 
 Look yonder at her who, in all winds and weathers, with 
 self-denying perseverance goes forth to collect the weekly 
 pence for the God-blessed Bible Society. 
 
 Follow another, who with love in her heart and the woed in 
 her hand, seeks the abodes of ignorance, crime, and poverty, 
 festering in deadly trinity, and points the lost to the lost one's 
 Saviour. 
 
 Or go with a third, an unwearied girl, who day after day 
 presses her hot hands on her brow, as she sits in the close air 
 of the Ragged School, stripping off the incrustations of ig- 
 norance from those child-souls, and letting in ravs from the Sun 
 of Righteousness — Ah ! 
 
 " Her's is an angel's mission, 
 Nay, perchance there is noi given 
 So noble an emplojanent 
 To the seraph throng in heaven 1 '' 
 
346 A LIEE-LONG-STORY. 
 
 Yet these are only representative women, of whom a host 
 may be collected to fortify our position ; and it is the firm con- 
 viction of the writer, that however much appearances are 
 against them — even those whose hearts are swerving from the 
 rightful centre, attracted by the multifarious temptations and 
 influences of a singularly frivolous age, — only require a well- 
 skilled svmphonv on the chords of thought, and out-gushing 
 will follow those sympathies and aspirations, ever latent in 
 woman's heart, linking her with the Author of them. 
 
 Surelv it is a foul libel to believe the eyes which weep 
 torrents of svmpathy at histrionic representations of suffering, 
 disease, and death ; or the susceptible bosoms which nutter 
 with emotion over the well-got-up scenes in a novel, could 
 remain all stonv and callous when the real moan of anguish 
 is at their verv doors wailing loudly for their compassions ! 
 
 Awav with the thought ! the women of England will rise 
 to vindicate themselves from the belief that they are " not the 
 women for the times," and no longer lay all the healthy and 
 generous impulses of their natures on the cruel altar of Fashion, 
 and for the sake of dazzling a few feverish hours amid the ever 
 unsatisfving mirth of perishing pleasures, forego their Grod- 
 given privileges — out-blot those sympathies linking her with 
 the skies. They will "think" on the scalding tears of pain 
 and weariness that have fallen from their sisters' sinking eye on 
 their costlv robes* of the skeleton fingers that have trembled 
 over their embroidered skirts — of the young eyes that have 
 become dark — dark for ever in their service ; they will listen 
 to the despairing moan — the hopeless sigh — the short, fearful 
 cough • and drawing back the veil, look steadilv on scenes of 
 passive endurance and heroic suffering, that, 
 
 " Would make e'en angels weep, if tears were known in heaven." 
 
 Ay, and they will do more — they will repel this monster 
 wrong, and bind themselves in a phalanx more invincible than 
 
 The Saceed Band 
 
 * Oil* ! what a change the gorgeous dress undergoes ! — at one moment it 
 is on the knee of the emaciated sempstress, amidst tears, sighs, weariness, and 
 disease ; and the next, it is in the gay chamber, amidst perfumes, flowers, 
 music, and laughter. Oh ! can it be possible that many of our country- 
 women are really thus sacrificed to pride, vanity, and fashion • Alas ! it is 
 too true. But let us blush and amend our ways. — Rev. J. Mc C'ON>'EL Husset. 
 
»*»■- - 
 
 A>~OTHEB Tj^FOETTTXATE. 347 
 
 of the Seven-hilled City; or the " immortal guard" of the 
 Persian legions, and boldly go forth in the cause of 
 
 "The right and true and beautiful." 
 
 No woman so high but she can stoop to lend her aid, and 
 rise in the act. No woman so low but she can help on the 
 work, thereby raising herself in the scale of being ; and gather- 
 ing round them all those whose hearts are in the right place, 
 give not " sleep to their eyes, nor slumber to their eyelids" till 
 they have enfranchised the fifteen thousand slaves of the needle, 
 whose great crv has entered the ears of the Lord of Hosts. 
 Thev will guard' the " Pearl of Days " for their down-trodden 
 sisters, by closing their doors to the thrice-cursed act, allow- 
 ing articles to be " sent home " on its morning. 
 
 The eve of humanity is turned on the women of England, 
 wondering if they will uproot this social Upas, whose spreading 
 branches distil such wholesale poison * and upheave this 
 
 * One who vras driven to insanity thus talked to the doctors, who tried so 
 to speak to her as to elicit a tear, hoping thereby to give relief to her brain : 
 
 " ' You worked pretty hard in London, did you not ? ' said one of the 
 gentlemen, willing to fay if he could touch something in that direction. 
 ' Hard ? ' Say slavery at once ! ' 'It must have been quite pleasant for you 
 when Sunday came, to get a little rest, and go to church." ' Yes, it was 
 pleasant,' said she bitterly ; ' and as to the church, the minister of the church 
 I went to told us to do many things, which, of course, were out of my power, 
 so I have come to the conclusion that I shall never go to heaven. Pleasant, 
 is it not ? ' A shudder ran through them all. ' Well, my friend, but he 
 told you of Jesus Christ ?' 'Yes, He went about always doing good ; but 
 that gave me no comfort, for I was always doing harm.' ' But you prayed, 
 my friend ? ' ' Prayed ! as if our employers gave us time to pray | ' a gleam 
 of intelligence flashing from her eye. ' I used to pray when first I went there ; 
 but we worked such fearful hours, I used to go to sleep on my knees. I 
 could not help it : and as I was not going to mock heaven that way, I gave 
 it up. Pray ! Why I never heard of such a thing ! Do you know what 
 sort of a place a house of business is in London ? ' 'Not a very desirable 
 place by your account. But tell me something about it ; I want to know.' 
 ' I suppose, then, you are the Day of Judgment. However, I will tell you : 
 for 1 am sure you will make some allowance, and not punish me for every- 
 thing. When I went there, I found that the work was very hard, and the 
 hours very long. We always sat up two whole nights every week, and some- 
 times three. Work was our food and drink — our all for this life ; nay more, 
 we were required to be so devoted to the interests of our employer, as for 
 that to take the place of God. Would not prayer have been a mockery 3 
 We had our Sundays, but they were not to worship God in ; we were to rest 
 on that day to gain strength, or go into the country for recreation, so as to 
 
348 A LIPE-LONG STOEY. 
 
 blood-cemented fabric, within whose Gehenna walls such foul 
 deeds are perpetrated. And will they not ? 
 
 "Watchman, what of the night ? 
 
 The clouds are rolling away, and over earth's moral wastes 
 and abodes of cruelty are streaming rays from the " Sun of 
 Righteousness." 
 
 And ye "oppressed, tossed with misery, and not comforted,"' 
 look up ! Ministering angels still light on the groaning earth 
 for you. The eye of Charity, beaming with love-light caught 
 from Calvary, is not dim. The voice of Sympathy, melting 
 with the music learnt from the echo of the angel's love-song, 
 "peace on earth, good-will to man" still falls on the ear of 
 Time : — 
 
 Look up ! Before you are morning-streaks, prophetic of a 
 brighter noon : the spirit of Love is invading the homes of 
 apathy and selfishness. 
 
 Hark to the comforting words of Him who " spake as never 
 man spake :" 
 
 " / will judge the cause of the orphan, and plead the cause of 
 the oppressed." 
 
 ° / trill execute righteousness and judgment for all that are 
 oppressed" 
 
 Mighty and unmistakeable is the voice abroad in the earth ! 
 
 " The voice that is upon the waters — that breaketh the cedars — 
 that divideth the flames — that shaketh the wilderness." 
 
 be able to throw our heart and soul into the work by five o'clock the next 
 morning — that was all. Our employer went to church herself sometimes in 
 the morning, and she said she wished us to do the same ; but she could not 
 have meant it, of course : ifc was only for the look of the 1 thing. Yes, the 
 work took the place of G-od. Some poor things tried to be good, and they 
 went to church always, unless they were ill in bed, which often happened ; 
 for they had no time to be ill in the week, or they would have been turned 
 out of the house. But they looked so pale and worn out ! I used to laugh 
 at them sometimes, and tell them to be good by-and-by. A great many 
 came and went away again while I was there — some to their homes, but 
 more to their graves. But oh!' — and she clasped her hands in agony — 
 ' from the time I gave up prayer, what a blank ! All went wrong there ' — 
 pointing to her head — ' and all went wrong here' — clasping her heart. 
 ' But it was too late. I deserted God ; He did not desert me, and I felt 
 ashamed to return ; I dare not return. Besides, the longer I stayed, the 
 worse it became.' " — English Slavery and Early Closing. From a 
 Sermon by the Rev. W. Landells.) 
 
ANOTHER WStFORTWSATB.* 349 
 
 The voice saying to the oppressor. " Hitherto sho.lt thou come, 
 and no further, and ftere shall thy proud waves le stayed" 
 
 Look up ! Your cry has entered the ear of the Merciful 
 One. and He is come down to help you. His Spirit has stirred 
 up that band of true men who have come gallantly forth to 
 your rescue. His Spirit has overshadowed that illustrious 
 gathering of women, the weapons of whose warfare are bap- 
 tized in the mighty on-flowing Jordan of Sympathy, and will 
 never rust from disuse till one after another they have en- 
 rolled all the wives and daughters of Christian England in the 
 Sacred Legion, and your fetters fall off. His Spirit has brooded 
 over the hearts of a few faithful sons of a singularly apathetic 
 church, and they have fearlessly thrown aside the trammels of 
 ;ious routine, and brought their powerful intellects and 
 sympathies into the ranks, fighting manfully against tyranny 
 and oppression — investing their pulpits with some of 
 the strength of the olden time. His Spirit has thrown your 
 cause into the Briareus arms of England's Press, directing its 
 Argus eves to vour sufferings and wrongs : and it has borne 
 on its lightning wing the sad history into every nook and 
 cranny of the land, begirting -it, even as the sea begirts 
 own beautiful shores, with an electric wire of sympathy, des- 
 tined to vibrate while one wrong remains unredressed. 
 
 'TisHis Spirit, too, no less in the ; ' day of small things'' 
 — in the sands that make up the mountain — the moments that 
 form the cycle — the units that make the million — " not a 
 sparrow falls to the ground, but He over-ruleth all.'''' 
 
 But while pleading for her sisters, assured that they will live 
 down the opinion referred to, the author is too well aware that 
 there are many sad exceptions. "Women, prosperity-hardened 
 and fashion-pampered, who will not stay to listen to the 
 voices around them, nor to the Voice that speaks from Eter- 
 nity ; but are these exceptions grounds for the assertion ? 
 
 Our Hogarths and Cruickshanks have done virtue good 
 service in tearing the veil from gilded Vice sinning genteelly, 
 and brutalised Vice sinning coarsely. Vv~e have the " pro- 
 gress " of this, and that one — what a series of cartoons for all 
 ages would the Fashionist's Progress present, if some of our 
 thoughtful painters would take the subject in hand ! 
 
350 A LIFE-LONG STOEY. 
 
 Oh, that, ere the days come wherein they shall say of all that 
 now fascinates them with meretricious glitter, " my soul has 
 no pleasure in them ; I am weary of my lije," the women of 
 our day would begin at once 
 
 Thinking foe themselves ! 
 
POPULAR DELUSIONS. 351 
 
 CHAPTER XXYII. 
 
 Dopk ^elusions. 
 
 • * • " To feel that we are greater than we know." 
 
 Bltore entering on the phases in the three following chapters, 
 permit us, dear reader, to pause a moment, and draw emphati- 
 <-;illv on }'our ever ready courtesy. Yielding to a suggestion 
 (too late regretted) that the incidents of the story should be 
 re-arranged^ the said chapters are somewhat isolated — for 
 which the censure may be provoked as "out of order," "dif- 
 fuse," arfd so on ; to which we humbly bow, premising, at the 
 same time, that for the fastidious literary critic, or mental dissi- 
 pationist, rushing through myriad volumes to " kill time,'' or 
 feed an unhealthy idealism, we write not ; and as a stream from 
 the heart — albeit it meanders hither and thither — will reach 
 the heart sooner than a stream from the brain, with its mea- 
 sured and majestic flow, so our phases may appeal to living, 
 loving sympatnies, though they should be denounced as " out 
 of place/' or " diffuse." Strong in this hope, without further 
 apology, attention is respectfully solicited. 
 
 There was once a delusion abroad in our favoured land that 
 Religion was not fit for this, and was not fit for that portion of 
 society, till at last— like the dove of the preacher-patriarch — 
 it seemed in danger of " finding no rest for the sole of its foot." 
 It was declared, " Religion had no business in the army," and 
 the munificent offers of the Bible Society to supply our troops 
 with the " Word of Life " were rejected, probably from the idea 
 that the man who may at any moment be hurled by war into 
 the presence of his Judge, would fight less valiantly because he 
 was ready to meet Kim, " having made peace through the 
 
352 A LIFE-LOTTO STORY. 
 
 blood of the Cross." Ah, but the " powers " thought they 
 knew a good deal better than mans Maker what was good lor 
 man ; He said, " I will that all men should come to a know- 
 ledge of the truth;" they said, "No," and exerted all their 
 influence 
 
 " To shut the gates of mercy on mankind." 
 
 It was all in vain, that Bible heroes spoke from the pages 
 of inspiration; that the biographies of a host of Christian 
 warriors wrote " false" upon the monstrous idea ; men held on 
 their benighted way, "those who had anything to do with 
 Eeligion had nothing to do with the army." 
 
 Silent Time flappeth his unwearied wing, and behold, 'tis 
 evening ! 
 
 The red hail of war beats pitilessly on earth's fair bosom 
 as she unconsciously drinks in the life-blood of her bravest anil 
 best. Sorrow broods upon the waters. Sorrow sits upon the 
 lonely hills. 
 
 Death is come into our palaces. Household mirth dies on its 
 pale lip, and is buried in the greedy gulf of woe. Eosy child- 
 hood forgets its song and smile, the orphan's tear has chased 
 them far away; over the weeping world laughter roams with 
 finger on her lip. 
 
 'Tis evening. 
 
 Wearily the besiegers have dragged through the day. Sadly 
 the moon* looks down through the sable clouds. Has she put 
 on mourning for her sister planet's mighty sorrow ? 
 
 With dripping hands the demon of War unrols his bloody 
 scroll, and shouts, with Hyena laugh, " thou hast no twin !" 
 
 Delay is there, sapping and wasting the heart-energy ot 
 kingly spirits with "hope deferred." 
 
 Famine is there, gaunt and hollow-eyed, and she clutches the 
 " strong man armed " in her bony fingers : awhile he struggles, 
 then crumbles " dust to dust." 
 
 Pestilence is there, flapping in fiendish delight her vampire 
 wing, as she sucks the vital current of the beautiful and the brave; 
 while high above all enthroned, with weak knees and palsied 
 
POPULAR DELUSIONS. 353 
 
 hands, sits Indecision, and to her leaden car are chained legion 
 of eagle spirits, panting to 
 
 " Soar with eyes fixed on Victory's sun," 
 
 yet doomed to fret and wear away under that galling 
 chain, till Spartan endurance and Roman courage — spared by 
 Pestilence and Famine — die out, a terrible atrophy of energy 
 starving in the midst of plenty ! 
 
 ]\Iay be there were sadder things than these, but 'tis enough. 
 Men's hearts waxed faint, and woman's brow grew pale, as over 
 the waves the dread tidings swept, while high hearts broke 
 
 "And brokenly live on." 
 
 'Tis evening. 
 
 Like some heart-cherished home on a desolate plain, a tent 
 wherein prayer is wont to be made, rises amid the carnage ; a 
 lamp throws a sickly nicker within, revealing three soldiers of 
 the Cross on bended knee. 
 
 " Put. off thy shoes from off thy feet, 'tis holy ground." . . 
 
 With strengthened faith, as on eagle's wing, the soldiers of the 
 Cross now rise, 
 
 " To do or suffer all their Master's will." 
 
 Then comes the solemn hush of spirit, as bending over tho 
 Eternal Word they drink in His soul-sustaining promise, — 
 
 "I will not leave you comfortless, I will come to you." 
 
 " Let not if our heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid." 
 
 " Peace I leave with you ; my peace I give unto you." 
 
 Oh, wondrous " glad tidings !" Oh, wondrous Religion to 
 nerve the heart, and gild with light and joy a scene like this! 
 
 But, like some rare harp's strings relaxed by the sun, are those 
 hearts grown soft beneath the melting words, and all unmeet for 
 the " deadly strife, the confused noise of the warrior, and the 
 garments rolled in blood ?" 
 
 'Tis night. 
 
 Mournfully the wind howls. Hoarse wailings sweep fitfully 
 around, now in gusts, now in low moans, now in shrieks. 
 
 Darkness gathers over the skies. Where now isNight's ancient 
 crown of regal magnificence ? 
 
 Once more on the wings of the wind, rises the .hallowed 
 music of Faith's strong prayer 
 
 A A 
 
354 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 Hark ! in the dim distance — is it the booming roar of the 
 dread artillery ? — flashes through the gathering blackness, the 
 red eye of the death-dealing cannon ! 
 
 Ah ! — they come ! Swiftly moving in the serried ranks of 
 war — a host I Onward, onward they come ! 
 
 Pouring out with impetuous speed, a handful of warriors 
 rush to the conflict. They face the foe ! An instant's pause, 
 and high over the " confused noise, 5 ' peals the first battle cry of 
 the young soldier of the Cross. Oh ! what shall that small 
 band do against a legion ! 
 
 Onward, onward they rush! England and honour! Death 
 or victory ! 
 
 Yet softly, softly — see, from the breast of the dauntless 
 leader, his warm life-blood is pouring ! Will he not pause in 
 his glory path ? 
 
 Hark to the gallant shout ! " Follow me !" 
 
 A flash of his glittering sword in the darkness, as if tracking 
 where his bright spirit past, and the hero falls ! 
 
 Victory's shout is there, but he hears it not. The gallant 
 soul of Hedlet. Vicars has joined the blood-washed throng. 
 
 " Brief, bright, and glorious was his young career. 
 . . . . His mourners were two hosts." 
 
 Oh ! ye in whose hearts War has left a ghastly gap, from 
 which sorrow will stream till the heart itself stands still ; ye 
 who '"'mourn not as others who have no hope ," lengthen your cords 
 and strengthen your stakes. No more eloquent epitaph can ye 
 carve to the memory of your lost ones, than in building up the 
 Faith that made them all they were on earth, and all they are in 
 heaven. No loftier requiem can ye chant than wafting the 
 story of Kedeeming Love. What though ye rear the costly 
 sarcophagus, and high heroic life breathes from the swelling 
 marble ? What though the monument be vast as your love, 
 lofty as the pyramids of Cheops ? Time's drifting sands will 
 engulph them. The silent finger of sure Decay efface their 
 memory. But such an epitaph, such a requiem — 
 
 "Shall not die and cannot be destroyed." 
 
POPULAB DELUSIONS. 355 
 
 Thev will echo over the waste howling wildernesses of earth's 
 sin and sorrow, till 
 
 " The red eye of battle is shut in despair,'' 
 vanquished by the victorious arms of the Prince of Peace. 
 
 "We shall not trespass on the patience of our fair readers, we 
 trust, by continuing this subject a little longer ; we give them 
 credit ibr believing that observation and fact teach more 
 powerfully than dogma, and it is for them to draw the in- 
 ference : as to the tale — 
 
 u They serve who wait." 
 
 In order to continue, we must retrograde a little. It would 
 require no end of time to record what Religion was not fit for ; 
 as she had no business in the Army, of course she had not any 
 in the Navy ; and unless our gallant tars could swear and 
 blaspheme, they were looked upon as puling poltroons. 
 
 Then she was not fit for the rich, and a godly Countess, or a 
 praying Lord, was looked upon as a candidate for some aristo- 
 cratic Bedlam. 
 
 Then (oh! strange incongruity) she was not fit for the poor, 
 until into our household literature, never to be dislodged, crept 
 the to-uching annals of the "Young Cottager," the "Dairyman's 
 Daughter," and the " Negro Servant," moving the heart like 
 never-to-be-forgotten music. 
 
 Then she was not fit for the Heathen, and that "noble army of 
 Martyrs," the Missionaries, were treated as the offscouring of all 
 thing's— Pariahs of Pariahs. In short, having, as they believed, 
 driven Religion from all her strongholds, it was at last dis- 
 covered that she was not fit for earth, and they tried to chase 
 her back to heaven ; but from all Eternity her " delights had 
 been with the sons of men," while Faith and Hope, her lovely 
 wings, were not needed, where all is " full fruition ;" so then 
 they endeavoured to shut her up in her "legitimate sphere, the 
 church ;" and though even in those benighted days, as in the days 
 of Elisha, the Great Overruler, had reserved to Himself a few 
 who had not " bowed the knee," and offered strange incense to 
 stranger gods; yet the powers fancied they had settled the matter 
 at last, and began " to eat, drink, and be merry,'' but the celes- 
 tial visitant soon languished ; pent within the narrow walls, she 
 could not stretch her " silvery wings, and her feathers like 
 
 a a 2 
 
356 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 gold ;" she was sent forth free, free as the winds, the air, the 
 sea, and free she will be ! The mine has yet to be discovered 
 containing metal strong enough to forge fetters for this 
 wondrous Dove. Vainly they tried the lure of a costly cage, 
 with golden wires and a mitred roof; vainly they hugged to 
 their hearts the belief that she was " caged at last ;" she pined, 
 and her wing drooped heavily, as she beat her breast against 
 the cold bars. She turned from the glittering food set before 
 her, for, imitating the Imperial Eoman fool, who gilded oats for 
 his horse, or the arrogant Persian, who thought to chain the 
 sea with golden fetters, they hoped to satisfy the fair bird's 
 cry with that they loved themselves ; but while they "slumbered 
 and slept," behold a gallant hand opened the cage door, and she 
 flew majestically out of that strange ark ; spreading her wing 
 once* more to the breeze, in the light of the sun's warm beams, 
 and she is still flying through the earth (not over it) with the 
 olive branch in her mouth, " no man making her afraid." i 
 
 Strange, truly, were the " doings " in those days ! Strange 
 were the gods bowed down to in a section of the church 
 that shut out of her pulpits, and then turned out of her 
 " sacred pale," the God-taught man who dared to shake the 
 slumber that sat en the lids of Light, and resuscitated Luther's 
 Protestant doctrine, "the test of a standing or falling church," 
 "justification by Faith;" and it would be a sad surmise as to 
 where the slumber would have carried our venerable mother, 
 or how long the deadly lethargy, which was the very vitality 
 and food of dissent, would have continued ; but it would be 
 delightful to follow the enfranchised Dove, if within the limits of 
 a tale like this to do so. If any of our readers have the will, the 
 wav is easv enough ; we must not now linger on the pleasant 
 theme, and watch her flooding some of earth's dark spots with 
 light that has no gloom — " peace the world can neither give 
 nor take away," as she wings her way to the far-off shores of 
 the Friendlv'l^les, demonstrating her transforming power in 
 the heart and life of its right royal-hearted chief: or to Hayti, 
 where the gallant queen became a " nursing mother" to a little 
 flock, till the wolf got into the fold, to " tear and to destroy ;" 
 but we may come a little nearer home, stopping a few moments 
 to contemplate what this wondrous Gospel has done for one 
 little spot m the purlieus of queenly London. 
 
LIPE, DEATH AND RESTJREECTION. 357 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 Pe, Scat!) antr insurrection. 
 
 "A short time ago, in this Metropolis, which we hear styled "the most 
 civilized in the world," a family was discovered in a state of utter destitution ; 
 the mother lay dead upon a miserable handful of straw, and five children 
 surrounded the corpse in so dreadful a state of starvation, that the surgeon 
 under whose care they were placed, was obliged to have food administered to 
 them with the utmost care, afraid of destroying life with that which should 
 sustain it."— The Present Position of the Working-Classrs. By F. H. H. 
 
 Xoiselessly the chariot wheels of Time roll on. 
 
 And if any of onr readers would look on one more phase of 
 this shifting life-stage, let them advance, and an easy walk 
 from the Royal town of Kensington, and we are in sight of the 
 <• Piggeries,'"' in their darker aspects, alas, but representative 
 places, their twin disgracing the outskirts — not unfrequentlv 
 the very heart — of all the great towns in this Christian land ; 
 but they beget no care or anxiety about their existence. It 
 seems " no business of nobody's.'' 
 
 " Piggeries !" exclaims the reader, with a look of horror. 
 " AVhat can the silly author mean ? What is there extraor- 
 dinary in such places ? Everyone knows pigs must have houses 
 to live in, poor beasts ! or how should we get our " mild break- 
 fast bacon," our boar's heads, and fricasseed pettitoes ? How 
 can tte sight of a piggery beget reflection and etherialise our 
 materiality ! " 
 
 Pardon us, lady ; this is a human Piggery. Perhaps it may 
 be better known under its classical name, the "Potteries," 
 just as such places are heard of in our cities and towns, under 
 the euphonius appellations of " slums," rookeries, " Devil's 
 Acres," " Little Hells," and so on. 
 
358 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 " The Potteries ! why that is no better than Piggeries ; 
 both terms are exceeding low," exclaims the reader. 
 
 This opinion, with all due deference, may be purely a matter 
 of taste, and but trifles, when speaking " that we do know." 
 Undoubtedly, to refined ears accustomed to the high-sounding 
 titles, " Queenly City " and u Eye of Christianity," such terms 
 may be "exceeding low," if not "quite disgusting;" but 
 alas ! these leprous spots exist, nevertheless, teeming with 
 immortal souls ; and after all that has been written and said 
 about the prestige of a name, 'tis really of little consequence. 
 
 " The guineas' worth is in the gold, 
 And not in the stamp upon it." 
 
 " Well, well ! pray proceed. One gets tired of insipid mo- 
 ralising, trite, Belf-evident conclusions, patent to every body, 
 especially under the impending infliction of a chapter on the 
 Art of Pigsties Elucidated !" interrupts our reader, with a ges- 
 ture of impatience. 
 
 Agreed ; let us proceed. We should have reminded you to 
 take°an extra supply of " Farina/' and be sure not to forget 
 your smelling-salts/' 
 
 « Why an extra supply ? " inquires a soft voice. "I never 
 o-o anywhere without a little Eau de Cologne, as I am inclined 
 to be nervous." 
 
 " Your question will soon meet a reply. Pray keep close, 
 and we will draw near to the Potteries .... nearer . . . . 
 
 neare r nearer still. Put your perfumed cambric 
 
 close to your mouth nearer still. Xay, do not shrink, 
 
 and draw back ! Indeed, there are some human beings among 
 those pigs, grovelling, and burrowing in the filth of that fester- 
 incr cesspool, fringed with the garbage of decayed vegetable 
 matter ! We do not say the spot is peopled with the most 
 abject daughters and sons of guilt. They may be there ; 'tis a 
 fitting resort. We do not say ''tis the haunt of "reckless im- 
 morafity, brazen-fronted impudence, light-fingered thievery, and 
 red-handed murder." These may be there; 'tis a likely domi- 
 cile for the parent of the brood, the great seething cauldron of 
 crime — ignorance, debasing, brutalising ig>~oea:sce, is rampant, 
 and that is enough. 
 
 Now, ladv, cast your eye on that loathsome mass yonder, 
 and say could there* be a more powerful description than that 
 
LIFE, DEATH A>'D RESURRECTION. 359 
 
 of the Times, when representing " Koyal Kensington and the 
 Potteries as the Belle of the season with a cancer on her 
 breast ? ; ' 
 
 " It is indeed horrible !" exclaims our reader. 
 
 Let us advance a little closer Look on that 
 
 grunting mass of animal matter to the left, and you will see 
 two or three odd-shaped bundles of rags and filth contesting the 
 refuse of some lordly kennel. They are wee children ; and if 
 the incrustation of filth was scaled from their faces, the in- 
 tensely Saxon complexion and feature would be recognised, so 
 cherished in our land ere the Norman 
 
 Dreading a physiological lecture in such a locale, the reader 
 interrupts — " Excuse me ; but do you really mean to say those 
 nondescript -looking lumps of moving matter are human 
 beings ?" 
 
 Even so, lady ; beings destined, like yourself, to exist when 
 " the moon shall not give her light, the sun shall be darkened, 
 and the stars shall fall from heaven," even for ever and ever. 
 Yes ! every squalid, loathsome little object there, has a soul as 
 imperishable and precious in God's eyes as that of some " scion 
 of monarchs," greeted on its entrance into life by the thunder 
 of cannon and the shouts of nations. 
 
 With sympathies on the move, the reader remarks, "It is 
 really very sad ! "Why do not people do something for the 
 unfortunate little creatures ? I am sure I will give a sovereign 
 readily, if that will help ! But pray let us go away, and we 
 can talk over it as we return." 
 
 Sad, indeed, lady ! But there are sadder sights than these 
 within. Once more, let us go forward. Nay, do not draw 
 back — there is nothing to fear, and scenes such as 
 these soften our feelings and melt our pride, bringing us to 
 the stand-point, " who made me to differ ? what have I that 
 I did not receive ? " One moment longer, and we shall be at 
 our journey's end .... keep close — walk on tip-toe over this 
 miry ground, and let us enter the first stye we arrive at ; it 
 
 will be an instructive specimen of the rest 
 
 " Take me away ! I cannot bear it ! " exclaims our sympa- 
 thising reader. 
 
 Xay, remain, one moment. It is only a death scene, and 
 perhaps you would not object to the representation on the 
 stage, while this is wonderfully more natural 
 
360 A LIFE-LO^Q STOET. 
 
 Look yonder into one corner of this wretched abode. On a 
 bundle of filthy straw lies a dead child. Eound its mouth and 
 eyes the worm of corruption has crawled, and left its trail — 
 decomposition has begun its horrible work ! " / have cried to 
 corruption, thou art my father ; to the icorm, thou art my 
 mother and my sister.'' 
 
 Once again. On another bundle of reeking straw, which 
 constitutes all the furniture in this foul abode of want and 
 woe, lies the form of a woman dying of starvation; over her 
 skeleton limbs an old patched rag is twisted, but she is nearly 
 naked, and her frame quivers fearfully in the death-gripe ! On 
 her shrunken bosom rests an emaciated infant, whose efforts 
 to draw sustenance from that fast-freezing fount are heart- 
 rending. Another moment, and the starving infant is hurled 
 bv its dying mother to the other side of the hovel, and she 
 rushes round and round as if pursued by some invisible fiend, 
 shrieking " "What must I do to be sated ? " Oh God ! 
 what a cry ! Mark the phrensied eye protruding from the 
 socket ! the clenching of her bony hands ! the death-shadows 
 gathering thickly and darkly over her face ! the foam working 
 out from the distorted mouth I 
 
 " A little longer, jet a little longer, 
 might she stay to wash away her crimes, 
 And fit her for her passage. Mournful sight '. 
 Her very eyes weep blood " 
 
 Cover her face I cover her face ! 
 
 " The frantic soul raves round its tenement, 
 Turns to each avenue, and shrieks for help ! 
 But shrieks in vain ! " 
 
 Shrieks in vain ! Xo kind pastor points that "lost sheep " 
 to the lost one's Saviour ! Xo compassionate one has followed 
 the wilful lamb into the wilderness, bringing it back and 
 laying it on the breast of the " Good Shepherd/' rejoicing. 
 
 ?SO 0>~E CAEES EOR HEB. SOUL. 
 
 Cover her face ! Cover her face ! The eye of humanity 
 cannot brook its writhings ! Oh, on what are those startling 
 eyeballs fixed? Sees she the "lake of fire and brimstone '" 
 tossing to and fro the lost on its molten billows, 
 
 " Ever burning, yet never burnt ?'' 
 while the undying worm wreathes its coils around their 
 
LITE. DEATH AND RESUEEECTION\ 
 
 361 
 
 naked souls, and " the smoke of their torment ascends for ever 
 and ever P , 
 
 Hears she the u weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth 
 at the unwanted prayer of a lost one in that world of fire : — 
 
 " FaTHEB, HATE MEBCY OH ME ! AND SEND LaZABUS THAT 
 HE MAT DIP THE TIP OF HIS FINGEB IN WATEE, AND COOL 
 MY TONGUE, EOE I AM TOBMENTED IS THIS FLAME ! 
 
 Or looks she beyond " the great gulf fixed" to the everlast- 
 ing hills, whence fioweth the " pure river, clear as crystal," and 
 where standeth u the throne of God and the Lamb, the City 
 having the glory of God, and her light like unto a stone most 
 precious," while she drinks in, with ravenous ear, the melody 
 from the golden harps of those who have " gotten the victory 
 over the Beast, standing on the sea of glass, singing the song 
 of Moses and the Lamb/' 
 
 Recognises she her first-born, who, ere sin could blight, 
 spread its white wing, and soared to glory, sweeping the chords 
 of its golden harp to the music of redeeming love, and she fain 
 would join that throng, but no one points the dying sinner to 
 the sinner's Friend ! No one cases tor heh soul ! 
 
 " The shepherd is a hireling, and careth not for the sheep ; 
 and because he is an hireling, and not the shepherd, whose own 
 the sheep are not, seeth the icolf coming, and Jeaveth the sheep and 
 feeth, and the wolf catches them, and scatereth the sheep." 
 
 '• ThEEEEOEE TE SHEPHEBDS, AS I LIVE SAITH THE LOBD 
 
 God, because my flock became a peet, and my flock 
 became meat to eyeby beast in the eield. because theee 
 
 WAS NO SHEPHERD, NEITHER DID MY SHEPHERDS SEAECH EOB 
 MY FLOCK, BUT THE SHEPHERDS FED THEMSELVES, AND EED 
 NOT MY FLOCK, THEREEORE. Oh ! YE SHEPHERD-. HEAR THE 
 WORD OF THE LORD ! BEHOLD I AM AGAINST THE SHEP- 
 HERDS, AND I WILL REQUIRE MY FLOCK AT THEIR HANDS, 
 AND CAUSE THEM TO CEASE FROM FEEDTNG THE FLOCK, FOB 
 I WILL DELIYEB MY FLOCK FROM THE LB MOUTH." 
 
 " Behold I, even I, will both seabch my sheep and 
 
 SEEK THEM OUT, AS A SHEPHEED SEEKETH OUT HIS FLOCK, 
 AND I WILL SET SHEPHEBDS OYEB THEM THAT SHALL FEED 
 THEM, A2TD THEY SHALL FEAB SO MORE, NDITHER SHALL 
 THEY BE LACKING. SAITH THE LORD." 
 
 But, alas! for the ;i hireling shepherd'" who "sought not 
 for the flock," and, alas ! alas ! for the " devoured" sheep for 
 
362 A LIFE-LONG STOBT. 
 
 whose soul "no man cared/' horribly wailing, "what must 
 
 I do to be saved !" her despairing spirit fled away ! 
 
 With gracious sympathies overflowing, our reader exclaims : 
 
 II Oh ! how dreadful ! Let us take away the starving baby, and 
 leave this horrible place, you can tell me about the unfortunate 
 woman as we return, and let us see if nothing can be done !" 
 
 Agreed ; we must lift the baby tenderly, or its little shrunken 
 limbs will be hurt 
 
 There, neglected wee immortal, rest for a few moments on 
 woman's sympathising bosom, while angels look on and smile, 
 and a fresh record is made in the Book of remembrance, " in- 
 asmuch as ye did it unto the least of these, ye did it unto me^ ; , 
 
 At the age of seventeen, this " devoured sheep " left her 
 village-home in the service of a noble family. In an evil 
 hour she listened to the vows of her mistress' pet footman, and 
 strayed from the path of purity and peace ; and though she 
 "had but stumbled in the path" indignant virtue "had in 
 weakness trod," she was thrust forth on the cold, hard world, 
 friendless, unpitied, and branded, 
 
 " Where every tear a woe can claim, 
 Except an erring sister's shame ; " 
 
 while the epauletted Adonis — strong in gold-lace, insolence, 
 and his mistress' favour, instead of being justly dealt with, and 
 " cast out " too, with " immorality " branded on his character 
 — pleaded weakness, and the old Adamic developement, " the 
 woman did 'tempt me ;" * and so his being a " little profligate " 
 presented no obstacle to the conscience of his mistress to his 
 dancing attendance, all be-powdered and be-hardened, even 
 into the house of God, carrying her Bible and Prayer-book. 
 
 Aping the sang-froid of his betters, the hero of the still- 
 room looks quite logically on the affair ; and arguing from 
 cause to effect, concludes that, " after all there can't be so much 
 harm in what missus winks at." So, like the immortal Topsy, 
 he makes a capital of his sins : — 
 
 "Yes, yes ! he knows he's a sad dog among the gals, and all 
 that sort of thing; but missus doesn't care a bit about that, 
 
 * A fact : and occurred very lately in a family residing in the locality 
 where the writer was staying. 
 
LIFE, DEATH AND RESURRECTION. 363 
 
 she knows well enough he's of a gar turn ; but them as lives 
 in glass houses shouldn't fling stones." 
 
 Thus the pet lackey passed his fingers languidly through the 
 powder and pomatum hanging about his face in curls, as he left 
 the drawing-room into which he had been considerately called, 
 to receive a feminine lecture on his " thoughtlessness," saying, 
 
 " All right ! Missus can't do without me ! I was pretty 
 sure of that ! Ter five foot 'leven isn't to be picked up every 
 day ! Next quarter I'll strike for more wages ! These little 
 matter shows us our real lvalue !" 
 
 While the shrinking, ashamed partner of his guilt goes on 
 her way of sorrow and suffering, unpitied and alone ! Soon 
 grief and shame brought her spirit low ; fain would she have 
 returned to the path from which the assumed accents of love 
 beguiled her, but no hand was stretched out to help her, nor 
 encouraging voice cheered her efforts to redeem the past by 
 future good conduct — " no one cared for her soul." In the 
 cravings of nature, and the dreadful alternative, starve or sin, 
 she sunk lower, hushed the voice of conscience at the grave- 
 glutting gin-house ; her self-respect was gone, and the down- 
 ward road was easy then ! 
 
 Poor beguiled victim ! A word 'of warning advice or com- 
 miseration from thy virtuous mistress might have saved thee 
 and torrents of crime ; but she " passed by on the other side," 
 and the result shall only be known when the resurrection-angel 
 shall call " the dead, small and great," to judgment. 
 
 " It is devoutly to be hoped there are but few mistresses so 
 iron-hearted to the sins of their own sex, and so lenient to 
 those of the stronger !" indignantly exclaims our tearful reader. 
 " But tell me something more about these dreadful Potteries we 
 have just left. How could things have been allowed to get 
 into such a state ? Where were the Guardians of the Poor ? 
 What parish does the neglected spot lie in ? and where were 
 the shepherds of the flock ? Can nothing be done ?' ' 
 
 Alas ! ladv, the Potteries may reply to your questions in the 
 words of the 'Most High, by the son of Hilkiah : " The priests 
 said not ' Where is the Lord ?' and they that handle 
 
 THE LAW KNEW ME NOT : THE PASTORS ALSO TRANSGRESSED 
 AGAINST ME, AND THE PROPHETS PROPHESIED BY BAAL, AND 
 WALKED AFTER OTHER THINGS THAT DO NOT PROFIT." 
 
364 a li:fe-lo>'g story. 
 
 Time rolls on The great Love Spirit broods over the Pot- 
 teries. The deformed, diseased child, neglected by the mother, 
 is taken up by the Father of the church : a seed from theh ea- 
 venly garner is blown by the breath of the Spirit into the earth, 
 and though the smallest of all seeds at first, and planted by 
 the hand of woman,* it took root, and grew, and became a 
 tree bearing truit a hundred-fold. A few true-hearted ones, 
 feeling the value of their own souls, and hence yearniug for the 
 salvation of others, set prayerfully about cleansing this plague- 
 spot, by turning the " Kiver of the AVater of Life " through 
 it. The putrid cesspool becomes a sanctuary. + On the 
 air once echoing with oaths and blasphemous obscenity, -rises 
 the incense of prayer and praise ; schools and teachers and 
 preachers have sprung up, and ere long the "cancer of Ken- 
 sington" will be rooted out vein and fibre, and the Piggeries 
 " blossom as the rose," perfumed with the " Name that is 
 above every other name ; " and though this movement had not 
 
 * The first eff >rt to " seek and save the lost " in this neglected and de- 
 praved locality was made (we believe) by a domestic in the service of General 
 Fox. This humble follower of her Lord, knowing her name was written in 
 heaven, though branded on earth as a Dissenter, felt t-ke had a work to do, 
 devoted a portion of her time in endeavouring to '"make in the desert a 
 highway for our God," by reading the Scriptures to a poor, bed-ridden 
 woman. The one listener became ten — the ten became a hundred — the hun- 
 dred will become millions, for the "entrance of the Word giveth light," 
 Mathew, xiii. 31, 32. 
 
 t At the opening of the Notting Dale Schools the writer recollects the 
 sensation that ran through the audience, when prayer being called for, no 
 clergyman was in the place to ask a blessing on this pre-eminent God- work, 
 and she could not help echoing the sentiment of the chairman, the catholic- 
 hearted Lord Shaftesbury, who, in reply to a remark from a member of the 
 Church of England, censuring this deplorable sectarianism, said, " Episco- 
 palian as I am, I would not give the right-hand of fellowship to any man 
 who would not aid in such a God-like work as this ! " A few weeks since 
 the writer again visited the schools, where 250 children are being evange- 
 lised, and instead of their "not being distinguished from the pigs," as a 
 good minister once remarked to her, if any philanthropist wishes for a real 
 treat, let him or her hear these little immortals, rescued from degradation, 
 prove the power of the Gospel to elevate the human race : and more than 
 this, she heard the testimony of a dying woman, " Oh ! I long to depart, 
 and be with Christ ! " — another fruit of the promise, "My word shall not 
 return unto me void." 
 
 Do we not want men in all our churches more anxious to see souls con- 
 verted, than to seem proselyted to any section. 
 
■™ 
 
 LIFE, DEATH A> T D EESUEEECTIOX. 365 
 
 the glorious privilege of springing out of" the Church," whether 
 men bear or whether they forbear, it shall prosper, for the 
 mouth of the Lord has spoken it." Alas ! 
 
 " When Satan's hosts are marshalling, 
 What parts the warriors of the Cross ? " 
 
 and if souls are plucked from everlasting burnings, what mat- 
 ters by whom they are rescued ? " He ivJw is of God doeth 
 God's work, and the doctrine will soon be known whether it be of 
 Him or not." 
 
 Would that instead of the Loadicean indifference, or the reli- 
 gious etiquette round about us, we had a loving brother- 
 hood, ''moved" and ''flocking as doves to their windows," 
 under the banner of the Cross, wherever it is upreared, and 
 whenever it floats over a surrendered stronghold of the Prince 
 of Darkness ! "Would that there were more unity among 
 God's men, no matter by what denominational distinction re- 
 cognised ! Then should we have more of the burning love for 
 souls that dwelt in the heart of the great Apostle, when he 
 declared himself " ready to be Jew or Gentile, anything and 
 all things, so that he may save some," rejoicing if out of" very 
 contention" his Master was preached, so that He was preached 
 and souls saved ! Then should we have a brotherhood who, 
 having caught the spirit of Luther, are " ready to preach in 
 Satan's pulpit, if thereby a soul could be saved." 
 
 Ah ! let us muse on that love and compassion which wept 
 over suicidal Jerusalem, till our stony hearts melt, and no 
 longer crown afresh with thorns the brow of Mercv ; no longer 
 lay the fire of sectarianism or the ice of indifference on the 
 Gospel altar, — or how shall they sing praises together in hea- 
 ven, who would not work together for their Lord on earth ? 
 
 " How glad I am some one has undertaken the cause of those 
 miserable outcast creatures ! " exclaims our reader. "What 
 does it signify by whom the work of saving souls is done, so 
 that it is done ? "Why will not the good men of all denomina- 
 tions unite in " bringing glorv to God ?" 
 
 AVHY ? 
 
 "And not till each sick lamb is dressed, 
 Ask who the dressers chance to be." 
 
 " I wish I knew how / could do anything to help the good 
 
366 A LIFE-LO>~G STOET. 
 
 cause in the Potteries ! I shall never forget this lesson, with 
 its sorrowful sight," continues the sympathising reader. 
 
 Pray for it ; collect for it ; deny yourself for it ; interest 
 others by your influence and example for it ; and the Rewarder 
 of even " a cup of cold water " given in His name will ble^ 
 vou. 
 
A CHANGE COMES O'ER. 367 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 fifeanjes tome a'er itje Spit of tjre ©rnes. 
 
 " What might be done if men were wise, 
 What glorious deeds, my suffering brother ; 
 Would they unite 
 In love and right, 
 And cease their scorn of one another ! 
 
 "The meanest wretch that ever trod, 
 The deepest sunk in guilt and sorrow, 
 Might stand erect, 
 In self-respect, 
 And share the teeming world to-morrow." 
 
 Time rolls on : a "change comes o'er the spirit of the age," 
 now Religion, erst so despised and persecuted, and ostracised, is 
 become fashionable, walking and riding on earth's high places 
 in " silver slippers ;" no longer a reproach, a hissing, and a 
 by-word, great men pat her encouragingly on the head, as they 
 drop a few shillings into her lap with the left hand, and with 
 the right count out millions to keep the war-tide rolling. 
 Great ladies call her a " nice darling thing," as they sail into 
 the sanctuary in full costume, and sink with all the pride of 
 devotion into their luxurious hassocks. Piety is in the ascen- 
 dant, and we have her " of all sorts and sizes, remarkably cheap," 
 for example, sentimental, poetical, political, collateral, amateur, 
 impromptu, lucrative, conventional, expedient, orthodox, hetero- 
 dox, Sunday, week-day, and so on ; suggestive of the value of 
 the coin that has so many counterfeits — counterfeits " done " 
 as naturally as the great painter's cherries, and the birds of 
 Paradise— Charity, Hope, and Faith come to peck at them, 
 onlv discovering their mistake when, instead of their beaks 
 
368 A LIFE-LONG STOIiY. 
 
 being buried in the luscious fruit, they recoil from the cold 
 polished surface. 
 
 Tli en, too, on the other hand, we have Piety real, earnest, 
 working, loving, diffusive, humanizing, every-day, household, 
 costly, laying self's most precious thing, self, on her altar, 
 no sacrifice being too great for the heaven-born reality, whose 
 living embodiment is " let us not love in word and in tongue, hut 
 in deed and in truth." " The love that never fail 'eth." 
 
 Time rolls on : now patting Religion encouragingly on the 
 head with the right hand, the "powers that be" wisely 
 enough hide from it what the left hand doeth. Too politic to 
 pooh ! pooh ! Religion, as she rolls a majestic tide, bearing the 
 nation's interest on her breast — the acknowledged Palladium 
 of her strength and security* — not daring openly to persecute 
 and attribute every possible and impossible iniquity to its 
 latitudinarian teaching, and to be " piously inclined," is the 
 "unpardonable sin," we see poverty taking its place as the 
 master-crime of the age; so that a very instructive catechism 
 of modern ethology — " more respectable for the vices it 
 chronicles than for the virtues it forgets " — could be com- 
 piled, and put into the hands of the rising generation, of 
 which the following may be a somewhat rough specimen : — 
 
 Pupil : " What is poverty, sir?" 
 
 Governor (in the most comprehensive acceptation of the 
 term), " Poverty, my boy ? really, I scarce know what it is ; but 
 I will think your question over, and answer it when I am not 
 quite so busy : I have no time just now !" 
 
 Pupil : " Only just tell me, please sir, isn't it a dreadful thing 
 to be punished so severely as it is ?" 
 
 Governor : " Yes it is a terrible thing that poverty : but 
 don't ask me any more questions just now." 
 
 Pupil, not to be put oif, renews the investigation ; he is an 
 " anxious enquirer," and pursues the Governor closely the next 
 time he catches him napping, with the rememberance of his 
 promised explanation, the quintessence of which may be thus 
 rendered : — 
 
 Poverty is the parish peg, on which all delinquencies are 
 hung. 
 
 * " The secret of our national strength and greatness I" said Her Majesty, 
 laying her hand on her Bible. 
 
A CHANGE COMES O'ER. 369 
 
 The Pandorian box, full of all evils, -with no Hope at the 
 bottom. 
 
 The universal "Bogie"' whom every body hits hard, because 
 he has no friends. 
 
 Tiie felon for whom no Queen's Counsel pleads. 
 
 The criminal whom no jury recommends to mercy. 
 
 The scape-goat bearing the national sins on its head. 
 
 In short, 'tis the Alpha and Omega of iniquity, " so now run 
 and play my boy, and don't ask any more questions ; I have told 
 you all I know about it!" 
 
 Pupil: "Thank you, sir! I won't" (musingly): "I hope 
 poverty will never come into father's house." 
 
 We hope so too, generous boy ; 'tis bad enough to have no 
 roof to shelter the shrinking head from the piercing winds and 
 the biting cold, but 'tis worse to be sentenced to " two months 
 in the House of Correction" for it.* 
 
 'Tis bad enough to pine, in unspoken craving, for one morsel 
 of bread to unloose the clutch of famine, preying with its vulture 
 beak on the vitals ; but 'tis worse to be doomed to " ten days' 
 imprisonment and hard labour" for daring to be starving. 
 
 Tis bad enough to but, dear 
 
 reader, just glance at the following extract, descriptive of the 
 way justice — say nothing of humanity — is administered in 
 workhouses of the " Eye of Christianity :" — 
 
 " Moran's admission took place on the 14th of August. 
 
 '• Mr. V. K-.ig^ht produced a hard piece of untorn oa'ium, which he ex- 
 plained was given to her to pick, when confined in the refractory department. 
 The girl Moran was set to this work, notwithstanding she had committed no 
 offence, and she was only an inmate of the workhouse through destitution. 
 
 "■ Mrs. Kirkpatrick, Superintendent of the female refractory ward, was 
 examined, and she said that so severe was the work of oakum picking, that 
 the girls' hands were all blistered. Some girls had been discharged who, she 
 felt sure, could not have done any more work ; their hands were much blis- 
 tered. As to the girl Moran, she gave her an excellent character for obe- 
 dience and quiet conduct, adding, that she ( Moran) bad, while in the ward 
 with the other girls, avoided the company of those known to be bad. The 
 knives and forks had been taken from the inmates of the wards ; until the 
 last four day3, they had to tear their meat with their fingers and teeth. The 
 knives and forks had formerly been taken from them because of their riotous 
 conduct, but since they had been returned they had regularly given them up, 
 and behaved well." 
 
 * In the police report of August 20, at Wakefield, a poor lad was Fen- 
 tenced to "two months in the House of Correction for sleeping in a pigsty e," 
 Two months' correction for being houseless and homeless ! ! 
 
 B B 
 
370 A LIFE LONG STORY. 
 
 What think ye of it ? Kare way this to reclaim the wandering 
 theweak or the wilful ! Eight way this to dastardize the spirit and 
 destroy that sense of self respect and shame it should be the 
 first care of the guardians of public morals to cherish, as the best 
 preservative of virtue and the greatest incentive to honesty ! 
 " The girl Moran was set to this (horrible) work, notwithstand- 
 ing she had committed no offence, and was only an inmate 
 of the workhouse through DESTITUTION." Poor creature ! 
 put to that hard emplovment for a woman's hands, because she 
 was DESTITUTE!! 
 
 Will some writer on our " social evils" tell the public why 
 poverty must be pauperism, and why pauperism must be 
 crime ? 
 
 Unfortunate Moran with her bleeding, blistered fingers ! " she 
 had an excellent character for obedience and quiet conduct, and 
 always avoided the company of those known to be bad." Per- 
 haps she was yearning for some kind voice to point her into the 
 way of honest industry — some gentle hand to guide her to the 
 cleansing Fountain, and yet with her "excellent character" she is 
 set among the riotous and the unfortunates, and indulged in the 
 treat of oakum picking ! Oh ! shame ! shame ! What a re- 
 ward for Moran' s " obedience' and " gentle conduct ! ! " What 
 a reward we say ! allowed, not only the luxury of oakum pick- 
 ing, but absolutely of " tearing her meat with her blistered 
 fingers and teeth, the knives and forks being taken away ! ! M 
 Our workhouses should be advertised, — 
 
 "Warranted to metamorphose Christian sinners into Christian 
 savages, and turn them out in such high state of perfection 
 that all other nations are challenged to produce such speci- 
 mens, barring the Christianity." 
 
 Oh ! for right men in the right places in England's Work- 
 houses, Prisons, Penitentiaries. Oh! for " Governors" of all 
 kinds, who would think more of softening the sad and suffering 
 condition of those entrusted to their charge, than they do of 
 the salaries they receive for their services ! 
 
 But one word, by way of conclusion to you, dear reader. 
 What think you of Moran' s case? You, who with jewelled 
 fingers of snow turn listlessly over the pages of the fascinat- 
 ing novel, scarce sure whether you are amused or not ? or 
 draw out languidly the needle and silk by which you " kill 
 
A CHANGE COMES O'ER. 371 
 
 time," in producing groups of flowers without perfume— birds 
 of bright wing but no song ? — what think you of this oakum- 
 picking for the " obedient," " good-charactered," " quiet " of 
 your own sex — only destitute? or of the reward, "tearing 
 meat with the fingers and teeth ! " ye of the superfine Chester- 
 fieldian table etiquette, what think ye of these things? 
 
 " It is very shocking ! And people ought to look into it, 
 but / can't help it," is probably the natural exclamation. 
 
 Perhaps not : perhaps you could.* One says, " I can't help 
 it ; " and another, " I can't help it ; " and a third, " / can't 
 help it; " till at last nobody can help it ; and so matters are 
 growing worse and worse ; or perhaps, thanks to an unfettered 
 Press, we get more light to see them by. But is it true no 
 one can help the present state of things ? that England has no 
 sons left with hearts large enough, and energies powerful 
 enough, to be up and grappling heart and soul with our varied 
 forms of social ill ? " 2 he day icill declare it." 
 
 Ah, Great "Spirit of Love ! come down, and brood over the 
 selfish hearts and moral wastes and howling wildernesses in 
 our country, till, regenerated by Thy transforming power, all 
 shall go forth, " making rough places plain and crooked paths 
 straight," energised by the "Faith that worheth by love.' 1 
 
 Does some impatient, but musical voice, exclaim : — 
 " Well, but what has all this to do with the story, with 
 Mary and Courtenaye ? One gets tired of reading such 
 dreadful things. Beside, what can women do ? Why doesn't 
 the prosy author bring the book to a conclusion, as any 
 other writer would ? " 
 
 The author is tired, too, of " such dreadful things," and 
 but that " Life Phases " were promised, would not have pained 
 the feelings of the gentle reader by pourtraying them. Her 
 wishes shall be at once obeyed, and we venture to inquire 
 whether she would like to follow the earnest pastor in one or 
 two of his labours, if we promise faithfully to abstain from the 
 
 * The writer has been informed that this expose led to thought on the part 
 of those to whom it appeals, and that a benevolent Christian lady has been 
 admitted into this abode of wrong, to soften the hard lot of her unfortunate 
 sisters. May her bright example be imitated, and blessings without number 
 gild her path ! 
 
 B B 2 
 
372 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 u very dreadful things " he endeavoured successfully to reform, 
 and onlv furnish the outlines of some of the milder evils, as 
 concisely as possible 1 
 
 We dare almost fancy vre hear, " Go on ! go on ! "' and, 
 bounding to the conclusion, crave a few more moments' 
 attention. 
 
THE BATTLE FOUGHT AND WO>". 373 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 Ijje §attlc lougjji anii Mn, or f too hi i\t ©lorn JSHorlb, 
 
 " I never say the word 'farewell,' 
 
 But with an utterance faint and broken ; 
 A heart sick yearning for the time 
 When it shall ne'er again be spoken." 
 
 " What, more gloom !" exclaims our fair reader, " Surely the 
 author paints life in a neutral tint with a pen dipt in the waters 
 of Marah, reminding one of the Bhuddist religion of which 
 sorrow is the first, second, and third stage ;" or, "'the book will 
 be a repetition of Otway's old woman, whose patched gown of 
 many colors spoke of every 
 
 " Variety of wretchedness ! " 
 
 Nay, dear lady ! " we speak that we do knoia, and testify 
 that ice have seen." If "truth is stranger than fiction," it is 
 also sadder; and if the experience of all ages adds force to the 
 mournful assertion of inspiration — "Man is born to trouble," 
 is it not profoundest wisdom, as well as policy, to learn how to 
 meet with calmness, and bear with fortitude, that which is inevi- 
 table ? Is it well to allow the storm to burst ere the " Hiding 
 place" is sought ? The heat to " beat vehemently" ere we fly 
 to the " shadow of the great Rock r" 
 
 And after all, why should we invest death and the grave with 
 over-gloom ? True as the penalty of sin, which ' : rudely pushed 
 off the hand of Deity from nature's harp, and brought discord 
 into Eden," they are terrible to the soul out of Jesus, but to 
 the believer they but convoy the free spirit to its Father's house, 
 where " there is fullness of joy at His right hand;" and recog- 
 nizing this lower existence as but the pilgrim-way, subserving all 
 
374 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 the multifarious events that make up that wondrous thing so 
 affectingly called " this transitory lite," to this great end we 
 not only bridge the grave's gloomy chasms with arching rays, 
 but we flood the ravine of death with light from the eternal 
 truth, that their great Conquerer has despoiled them of both 
 "sting" and "victory," carrying them captive into that 
 uightless city from whose sapphire turrets ever rings out over 
 a Necropolis world — " Blessed are the dead that die in the 
 Lord." 
 
 " Blessed," then, shall the full tide of that happiness roll 
 over the soul, which, phantom-like, ever eluded our grasp, though 
 we " spent our years as a tale that is told" in its pursuit : and 
 inasmuch as it contains an element nought born of earth can 
 realize — duration, why should we 
 
 " Shrink to cross the narrow sea" 
 
 that divides this glorious land from ours ? "Why should we in- 
 stall it as the " skeleton" in the feast of life, when 'tis but the 
 stream bearing the soul into the haven o£"joy unspeakable and full 
 of glory." 
 
 Could we catch but the border of the Apostle's mantle, and 
 take up his triumphant challenge — 
 
 " Who shall separate us from the love of Christ ?" 
 " Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or naked- 
 ness, or peril or sword ? " we should not so often have toVhisper 
 to our shaking hearts " oh, te of little faith !" Or, 
 could we even share in degree, though not in kind, with the 
 joy of the illustrious Athenian, who exulted in the anticipation 
 that " after death he should see Hesiod and Homer, and con- 
 verse with them and other great spirits," rejoicing that we 
 should see Him "who redeemed us with His most precious bloed," 
 and all those loved ones who have crossed the stream, and con- 
 verse with them about the Manager and the Cross, 
 
 " Ever learning yet never full," 
 
 we should not turn shuddering from the grave, mourning 
 over the forsaken casket when the jewel sparkles in the crown 
 of redeeming love. 
 
 The ancients, with all their twilight perceptions, and shadowy 
 belief in an after existence, were wiser in this respect than 
 
THE BATTLE EOEGHT JlSD WON. 375 
 
 many of us who live in the noon-light knowledge of the " Im- 
 mortality brought to life by tie Gospel" when they so happily 
 allegorised death under the figure of a lovely youth, with a 
 torch resting invertedly on a coronal of flowers, or as a child 
 with wings calmly and softly sleeping : there is, too, food for 
 an " ocean of thought" in the butterfly winging its glad way 
 from the mouth of the corpse : they 'evidently did not dress 
 up the idea in the gloomy habiliments we do. Shall we not learn 
 of them, and like the immortal Dreamer's "Hopeful," descend 
 into the river — finding it " deeper, or shallower as we believe in 
 the King of the place" singing "be of good cheer my brother! 
 I feel the bottom !" 
 
 Courtenave had deeply felt the death of Mrs. Leslie, for 
 while he knew full well that their loss was her gain, his heart 
 bled as he looked on the melancholy widower, or heard little 
 Donald's touching enquiry — " Why does not mamma come 
 back r" exemplifying the 'beautiful apothegm that " it is the 
 living who die." 
 
 Ever watchfully gathering up the fragments of "earthly 
 tabernacles," and employing them as materials wherewith 
 to build temples for eternity, soon after the event he en- 
 deavoured to impress upon his flock the brevity and fallacious- 
 ness of all sublunary joys ; but so powerfully did the subject 
 affect him that he was unable to proceed, and a solemn silence 
 for many moments sat on the vast assemblage, broken only by 
 the signs of uncontrollable emotion. 
 
 Many recollected that evening's call when their beloved 
 pastor had joined the shining ranks of the "just made perfect." 
 
 At this time his labours were abundant and unwearied — 
 alwavs preaching twice or (when the weather prevented his doing 
 so in the fields and lanes) three times in his church on the Sab- 
 bath, followed by immense multitudes, weary of feeding upon 
 husks, who hung with hushed breath as he stood " between the 
 dead and the living," proclaiming, with burning zeal for 
 their souls' salvation, " the only Name under heaven whereby men 
 can be saved'' Knowing that institutions can only be prosperous 
 when they answer the ends for which they are proposed, Cour- 
 tenaye could not recognize in the Gospel institution a mighty 
 political scheme, investing a favoured few with power to "kill and 
 
876 A LIPE-LONG STOET. 
 
 make alive ;" or as a subtle element in the hands of an intole- 
 rant priesthood, for enabling them to tread on the necks of 
 prostrate nations and hold the keys of heaven in their brazen 
 grasp, — much less to be made the badge of unholy sectarianism, 
 and one-sided Christianity, dealing out a scanty, mutilated 
 Gospel to hungry souls. No ! he sees in it a salvation full, free 
 as the precious blood that flowed to purchase it, for the self- 
 renouncing publican, the repentant thief, the loving Magdalen, 
 the loathsome leper, the " born blind." Hence he everup-rears 
 the Cross, proclaiming it Earth's one Pharos, on which the great 
 extinguisher, Time, can never fall. 
 
 Earth's one Ark, riding majestically over Time's troubled 
 billows, and anchoring on the eternal Ararat. 
 
 The Keystone of Earth's one Mercy-arch, spanning the muta- 
 tions of time, whose foundation was laid in the guilty Paradise 
 below, and its top stone planted on the everlasting hills of 
 the Paradise above. 
 
 The altitude and dignity of his character, the depth and 
 compass of his commanding intellect, and the consistency of 
 his practice with his preaching, formed a triumvirate that had 
 conquered even bigotry itself, and diffused new elements into 
 
 the social system of the good town of D , stamping it 
 
 with the impress of his own spirituality, and drawing around 
 him not only the outcast and the needy, but the noble and 
 the wealthy. 
 
 Genius, yearning for something better to satisfy its soul's 
 fevered cravings than listening to erudite displays of solemn 
 nonsense, and tired of being dragged in the chariot of red- 
 taped religionism into the cloudy labyrinth of creeds and 
 traditions, hung entranced on the burning eloquence of the 
 young apostle, proclaiming heaven's loftiest poetry — 
 
 Redeeming Love ! 
 
 Mitred men stepped softly from their carved and gilded thrones 
 and mingled with the " common herd," to listen to the full 
 salvation taught by the heterodox but successful evangelist. 
 
 Barristers (" there were giants in those days ") who could 
 thrill and sway men's consciences by the fire of their eloquence, 
 as a field of corn is waved by the wind, when they were plead- 
 ing for the acquittal of some monster robber, or for the life of 
 the stealthy poisoner, as if the enrolment of some mighty ele- 
 ments of good in the national institutions, or some virtue to 
 
THE BATTLE TOUGHT A>~D WOS\ Si 7 
 
 be consecrated at the domestic hearth, depended on the suc- 
 cess of tbeir fevered oratory, listened entranced to a fervor 
 rivaling their own, and wondering at the passionate eloquence 
 poured forth in a cause so insignificant as the salvation of the 
 perishing soul, and that would not be " fee'd " in hundreds for 
 the pleading. 
 
 But as the hoarse croak of bigotry and intolerance failed to 
 divert Courtenaye, so the seducing strains of popular applause 
 were alike unluring ; his constant heart grew stronger before 
 the one, and yielded not amid the other, for " seeing Him who 
 is invisible" he trod with an unfaltering step the perfumed 
 margin of the flowery yet unsafe declivity ; and vet principles 
 deeply rooted frequently thrive best in the stony ground of 
 persecution, bearing fruit a hundred fold, while they languish 
 and die in the softer soil of popularity ; hence the rapid 
 spread of so many blessed sections of the Church of Christ 
 — hence when the Seven-hilled City decked herself in purple 
 and gold, and " sat a queen that should see no sorrow,'* one of 
 her own sons* tells us, " the nearer you came to the capital 
 of Christendom, the less you found of the Christian spirit. 1 ' 
 
 " They stood the storm when seas were rough, 
 But in the sunny time fell off, 
 Like ships that have gone down at sea, 
 "When heaven was all tranquillity." 
 
 Let it not be supposed that the ministrations of the voung 
 pastor were confined to his pulpit, or limited within the' walls 
 of his church, and that after a violent spasm of Sunday elo- 
 quence he fell exhausted into the arms of a " Mondavish" 
 quietism extending throughout the week : no such thing ! 
 His life was a sermon more powerful than his oral teaching — 
 though, like Luther, he never entered his pulpit without trem- 
 bling at His presence before whom he stood : neither did he 
 attempt to separate "what God has joined ;" but, like inspired 
 apostles of old, not only "in the temple, bid in every house he 
 ceased not to teach and preach.'' "In every house was to 
 be found the young follower of the first Gospel teachers, entreat- 
 ing, warning, encouraging. He did not spend nine hours dailv 
 in his study peering into the dark corners of theologv to find 
 out Salvation till he missed the "wayfaring man's"' way round 
 
 * Machiavelli. 
 
378 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 by the Cross. No ! on his knees, with the Book before him, he 
 pleads for the Spirit's guidance, and rises on eagle's wings to 
 bear " glad tidings to every house." 
 
 Recognizing in the G-ospel a system eminently working, and 
 practical in its genius and developement,he is a working-man like 
 his working Master — " earth's one true gentleman, the carpenter 
 of Nazareth," as Augustin calls the blessed Jesus. 
 
 This G-ospel does not take a man from the brutalizing atmos- 
 phere of the licensed " hells," and translate him into the ex- 
 travaganza regions of transcendental romance, where a self- 
 installed Quixote, somewhat spiritualized, he inhabits a " castle 
 in the air," performing impossible exploits, and feeding on an 
 unhealthy idealism, and boarding-school sentimentality. 
 
 It does not take him from the great Phlegethon of the gamb- 
 ling table, and introduce him into a cloudy, misty atmosphere 
 of weird visionary metaphysics, where his mind loses its centre 
 of gravity, and his creed tumbles down from sympathy with it. 
 Xo ! it leavens his entire, every-day life with a* new working as 
 well as purifying element ; and* no matter whether he earns his 
 bread by the sweat of his brow, or the sweat of his brain, he is 
 a better statesman, patriot, citizen, machanic. In the beautiful and 
 varied phases of domestic life, he is a better husband, father, son, 
 friend, neighbour. It cleanses the offensive house, and "all things 
 are done decently and in order." It produces a wondrous physical 
 as well as moral change : the white-faced, emaciated mechanic 
 — redolent with fumes of the dirty meerschaum and poisonous 
 spirits — his mouth ; ' speaking great swelling words" efflorescing 
 with mongrel politics, brutalizing blasphemy, or skeleton infi- 
 delity, turning pale at its own shadow, becomes a healthy, in- 
 dustrious, respectable member of the brotherhood, elevated in 
 the threefold scale of being, knowing himself formed for immor- 
 tality, with a soul dear in his Master's sight as the soul of a 
 prince, and he pursues his occupation "fervent in spirit." 
 "What can the world offer him in exchange for such " glad 
 tidings" as this ? 
 
 Like dear old Herbert, whose genius never caught the reflec- 
 tion of red-taped religionism, he feels that 
 
 " All may of Thee partake : 
 Nothing can be so mean, 
 Which with this tincture (for Thy sake) 
 Will not grow bright and clean. 
 
THE BATTLE FOUGHT A>"D WO>~. 379 
 
 A servant with this clause 
 
 Makes drudgery divine : 
 Who sweeps a room as for Thy sake, 
 
 Makes that and th' action fine. 
 
 This is the famous stone 
 
 That turneth all to gold, 
 For that which God doth touch and own, 
 
 Cannot for less be told." 
 
 Thus it is the sole and lofty prerogative of Religion to invest 
 the trifling events of every day existence with the robe of im- 
 mortality, as it is that of Genius to rescue a name or deed from 
 sepulchre under the sands of time, and set it, as some fair 
 jewel, surrounded with its own corruscations. 
 
 A few years previous to the advent of Courtenaye in the 
 
 town of D , those excellent, unobtrusive blessings, Dorcas 
 
 Societies, had begun to raise their fraternising heads throughout 
 the land ; and the good ladies of the said very slow town, 
 believing themselves fit for something better than crochet and 
 scandal, took up the initiative in a very praiseworthy manner ; 
 but the unhealthy spirit of disunion that existed between the 
 different denominations of Christians, clogged, to a lamentable 
 degree, the Society's usefulness ; bigotry being a barricade not 
 to be thrown down, or stepped over by the charity that found it 
 easier to cover a multitude of limbs than the multitude of sins 
 the very shadow of "heterodoxy" imputed to the unlucky 
 wight supposed to entertain it. And when a couple of the 
 Sisters of Charity, in their office of collectors, waited on the 
 Ladv Rector of 
 
 " Apostolic blows and knocks"- 
 
 notoriety, to solicit her support and contributions, she readily 
 subscribed an annual guinea, but at the same time " ventured 
 to express the hope that they would confine the operations of 
 the Society, as well as the members of its committee, to their 
 own church." 
 
 Thus sowing wheat with one hand, and tares with the other 
 — planting a seed of the right sort in a right soil, and water- 
 ing it with the sour dew of sectarianism, no wonder when the 
 sapling tried to extend its branches, they were dwarfed and 
 stunted. No wonder when they looked for " grapes, it brought 
 forth wild grapes," for the obsequious committee kept the ball 
 
380 A LIFE-LO>"G STOBT. 
 
 of bigotry rolling, which had been so glibly thrown by the lady 
 rector's hand — the meddling, fidgeting Mrs. Moonshine, who 
 pulled the secret wires of the said committee, would not " for 
 the world'' (including all the unclothed members of every sect 
 in it) have offended her " dear Mrs. Anstruther," upon whom 
 she looked as super-human, not only because she was the best 
 dressed, and wore the " sweetest bonnets " in the church, but 
 because she happened herself to be an " immense favorite," 
 and had contrived to render her visits almost indispensable. 
 She repeated all the parish scandal within and without the 
 " statute of limitations ;*' performed all the little deeds of quiet 
 charity Mrs. Anstruther didn't like to be seen performing 
 herself: lectured the poor for not "coming to church saints' 
 days;" promised to " rout up'' all the Sunday-school children, 
 and make them attend in their classes ; — in short, she was a 
 sort of licensed retailer to her " dear friend ; " and though she 
 was " always fidgeting in and out in the way," as the •' dear 
 ;riend" pathetically complained to her husband, whenever she 
 saw the simpering face of Mrs. Moonshine coming up the gravel 
 walk leading to the Rectory, she invariably reeeived her with 
 open arms, and " My dear Mrs. Moonshine, how kind of you 
 to look in upon me this gloomy day! You are really too 
 good !" 
 
 Then there was the exceeding proper Mrs. Toogood, another 
 of the committee, and confidante of Mrs. Moonshine, — a stiff, 
 photographic body, so conscientiously orthodox that she would 
 not have been affected, much less converted, in any church but 
 her own for the world ! Having in early life prescribed a circle 
 for herself, she had never moved one inch beyond it for the space 
 of thirty years ; hence what little mind she possessed at first, 
 became rusty and shrivelled from disuse. Her ideas — what 
 few she could call her own — were become as antiquated as 
 some good people's notions are on the subject of national 
 education ; and she looked upon every one of her acquaintances 
 who had entered the race of progression and civilisation as a 
 species of hybrid, something between a domestic chartist and 
 fireside bandit, come to tear up all the railings and fences of 
 the " dear good old times " of nursery-imbibed prejudices and 
 blessed ignorance, and, like Samson "did the gates of Graza, 
 carry them away on his back. She, moreover, indulged in a sort 
 of " snappish" way of speaking to all who ventured to differ 
 
THE BATTLE EOUGHT A>~D WO>~. 381 
 
 from herself in opinion, till the habit became a chronic, consti- 
 tutional rudeness, displayed emphatically towards those she 
 considered one whit less "orthodox* 1 than herself; orthodoxy 
 being the oxygen in Mrs. Toogood's spiritual atmosphere ; but 
 it was simply orthodoxy, not Christianity, — which fact was 
 easily discovered by the 'fruits it bore j thus it did not induce 
 humility for pride, gentleness for rudeness, refinement for 
 coarseness, liberality for selfishness, catholicity for phariseeism, 
 and so on. No ; Mrs. Toogood was simply orthodox, and knew 
 (at any rate practised) none of that noble charity, whose motto 
 is, "Be courteous." Hence she proved a worthy coad- 
 jutor in the Dorcas movement just outlined, and exerted 
 "herself powerfully in trying, with very sharp pincers, to " pull 
 out the mote " in. her neighbour's eye, when she might have 
 turned her attention to the "beam 'in her own''' with good 
 effect. 
 
 Xext came the secretary, a " delightful little woman," large 
 hearted enough for any thing, yet dwindled into nothing in 
 the svmpathy-deadening, Christianity-stunting soil of sectarian- 
 ism, which (like the tree said to grow in the great mountains 
 of Helicon, whose scent is able to destroy the life of man) 
 poisons the life-current of that religion of which charity (love) 
 is the main artery. 
 
 It is but common justice, however, to say that the secretary 
 did not take sectarianism in the natural way, but was inoculated 
 for it ; or, perhaps more correctly speaking, she was driven into 
 it by the force of party spirit.' and kept chained up by her 
 sister-treasurer, a master-mind in her way, of whom a slight 
 sketch will be given by and by. 
 
 Excellent Mrs. Homely ! What a blessing she might have 
 been to the town of D — — , with her gentle sympathies and 
 large-heartedness, if it had not been for her shrinking dread of 
 a little triumvirate modeled after the fashion of Koine's thirty 
 tyrants, the committee, the treasurer, and the rector ; and 
 which said dread operated so powerfully on her nerves, that 
 at length she had wound up the chords of scruple in her con- 
 science to such a pith that she absolutely refused a handsome 
 donation in aid of the Dorcas' funds from a merchant-prince, 
 because he went to chapel! declaring at the same time, by 
 way of qualification, that while she had the " greatest possible 
 respect for all denominations of Christians, and thought it a 
 
3S2 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 pit j her own section of the church didn't imitate the zeal of 
 some of them, she didn't quite like the idea of mixing up the 
 parties together ! " Those who knew her best said she had 
 taken up this idea upon trust ; of this, however, we know 
 nothing, save that it will not bear bringing into the light of 
 the great Teacher's lamp, — 
 
 " For by one Spirit, whether Jew or Gentile, bond or free, 
 we are all made to drink into one spirit.'' 
 
 " One Spirit !" The great Love-Spirit. 
 
 What a pity it is people ever take things upon trust ! nothing 
 on earth can be more anti-progressive than that, and yet nothing 
 is more common; thus the "nice little secretary," adopting the 
 idea just signified ready-made, was always acting foolishly, and 
 meaning well, talking about the right way and never in it, and 
 as our ancient acquaintance, Miss Scaudalson, would say, she 
 " wanted a good influence," and a firm hand to steady the 
 building, which she certainly was not blest with in the person 
 of her sister treasurer, of whom we will now redeem our promise 
 and give a passing description : frankly confessing that we are 
 not aufait, as to whether, properly considered, like her worthy 
 colleagues, she belongs to the representative genus or not, our 
 fair readers must determine, as the species is not quite extinct. 
 
 Like the self-reliant Mrs. St. George, the Dorcas treasurer 
 had swelling sympathies for certain little fag ends of titled 
 nobility, and moral courage enough for any mortal thing but to 
 be thought growing old ; from which latter circumstance it will 
 be readily inferred that she was of that " certain age" Byron 
 declares as the most " uncertain" thing in creation ; and ano- 
 ther author styles " somewhere on the sunny side of forty ;" 
 while a third, more mischievous than amusing, unfeelingly says, 
 that the reason why so few of the fair sex ever insure their lives 
 (more's the pity) is, because the first question they are asked is 
 " What may your age be, Madam r" — just as if women's real 
 lives depended upon the length of their days, and many thou- 
 sands have not done more for their fellow creatures at twenty 
 than millions who have lived to three score years and ten! 
 
 Like a vast number of people in those days, when society 
 wore a painted mask, sailing, a la pirates, under false colors, at 
 the rate of sixteen knots an hour, every sail from stem to stern 
 inflated with the north-east breezes of conventionalism, and at- 
 tacking, sometimes running down, any little craft whose colors 
 
fHE BATTLE FOUGHT AND WON. 3S3 
 
 declared its loyalty or its port, — when it was the fashion to set 
 up the idol Expediency, and to leave the shrine of Principle to 
 bow down prostrate before it, and " black was not so black, nor 
 white, so very white," our treasurer could, with equal skill, pre- 
 tend to be what she was not, and not to be what she was ; and 
 in furtherance of this Ignatius Loyola developement, she made 
 indefatigable use of a pair of melting, dreamy blue eyes, 
 intending them to express the eloquence Mature had cautiously 
 denied to her tongue, and at the very time she was exhibiting 
 her talents as one of the Dorcas sisters of mercy, she was most 
 unmercifully fettering in rosy chains the susceptible spirit of a 
 gallant half-pay major, who had been ambassador to the magni- 
 ficent court of Aurungzebe, and as his Sovereign's represen- 
 tative had signed the marriage contract between him and 
 Abdalla, for the nuptials of the princely descendant of the 
 Zingas, ana the ;> World's Eose," with whom, notwithstanding 
 the strict surveillance in which Eastern women are kept, the 
 major had been permitted to dine, in virtue of his being a 
 British subject and a representative-man ; and he had over and 
 over again assured the lovely Dorcas treasurer that her eyes 
 were exactly like those of the " World's Eose," only a great 
 deal more beautiful (by the way, we should have informed our fair 
 readers, that the Major was a genuine son of Erin, and rivers 
 of fun rolled over a mine of thought in his soul), while the rose 
 of treasurers did just what any other lady would have done in 
 similar pleasant circumstances, — drank in the honey globules, 
 looked "unutterable things," and told him, blushing and smiling, 
 that he was a " wicked flatterer !" a "naughty deceiver V while, 
 believing every word of his flattery as well as his marvellous 
 Longbow-tales of the extraordinary things he had seen, and 
 escapes of various kinds he had met with in his world-wide 
 travels ; which, if on dit may be relied on, had never extended 
 one inch beyond from Buckingham Palace to ditto St. James's ; 
 and from St. James's Palace to ditto Buckingham. But how- 
 ever legendary this may be, one thing is certain, that among 
 his many tales 
 
 " He never told his love." 
 
 at any rate if he did, no one knew it, for it never came to 
 
 any thing. 
 
 Well, upon the threefold strength of her lovely eyes, being 
 
384 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 one of the committee and treasurer included, the said rival of 
 the " World's Bose" would get up at their meetings a long ir- 
 relevant oration, of which the picked parts or " toppers" were 
 generally a few second-hand platitudes, delivered in a dreamy 
 tone, as if she was rather " thinking out loud" than talking. 
 " Every one had a right to choose for themselves in matters of 
 religion" — " No patience with party spirit !" — " One creed just 
 as good as another !" For herself she " decidedly preferred the 
 Hourish," wearing a string of huge black beads with a cross at- 
 tached. " Could' nt bear to hear people talking about the 
 church, and the church, as if any one party had the keys of 
 heaven !" " Did'nt see, for her part, why people refused to mix 
 in doing good, even if they disagreed on some points," and " she 
 believed there was a good deal of truth in those quaint lines : — 
 
 •' A man may cry ' Church !' ' Church !' 
 With no more piety than other people ; 
 A daw's not reckon'd a religious bird 
 Because he keeps ' caw !' ' cawing ' from the steeple." 
 
 Tet, with this piebald religionism, and antithesis liberality, she 
 stoutly and vigorously resisted any and every infusion of 
 wealth, activity, or sinew into their most " orthodox" body, un- 
 less it came by the "orthodox" channels of the "orthodox" 
 church : thus advocating in theory, and ignoring in practice, 
 the result may be readily anticipated ; while the wheels of the 
 Dorcas machinery turned upon the axle trees of novelty, it 
 worked well enough, and many a goodly garment comforted aged 
 and decrepit limbs ; in fact, even to repletion were the wants 
 of some of the committee's " pet" recipients supplied. One 
 ' *' darling old woman," who, with streaming eyes, incessantly re- 
 minded them that she "had been patronized (paralysed) al- 
 over ," left behind, at her decease, no less than thirteen flannel 
 petticoats in a most orthodox state of preservation, never hav- 
 ing suffered either from " wear or tear ;" but the society wanted 
 the diffusive, comprehensive, all-sect embracing charity spring- 
 ing from love to the world's great Almoner, and so brick after 
 brick fell out of the building ; its committee dwindled down to 
 two : from a Dorcas society it became a clothing club, the 
 social tea meetings were given up, and it was just on the point 
 of crumbling into decay, as so many good designed, but ill- 
 carried out agencies do, when a strong hand took hold of the 
 tottering pile and propped it. 
 
THE BATTLE FOUGHT AXD WOX. 385 
 
 Like the palace of Cyrus built by Menon, the cement of which 
 was of pure gold, our mercy-edifices must have the pure gold 
 of the charity, that no sour wine of sectarianism can corrode ; 
 no croaking party-breath dim ; no spurious, half-hearted Chris- 
 tianity alloy ; or how shall it bear the rude shock of bigotry, 
 the withering sneer of ridicule, or the cold blast of indifference. 
 
 Under the inspiriting influence of Courtenaye, the first wish 
 of whose heart it was to see unity in action energised by the 
 spirit of love among all sections of the church, as the sole 
 basis on which war could be successfully waged against Satan's 
 
 dominion, in the good town of D , the neglected child-dwarf 
 
 Dorcas, dying of consumption, began to look up and smile ; 
 he pleaded for Christian unity in his life, and as actions ever 
 speak louder than words — for the latter may deceive, the for- 
 mer never — he did not plead in vain ; several " orthodox" 
 ladies, whose hearts were in the "right place," joined the 
 society, and at once frankly and warmly solicited the co-opera- 
 tion of their sisters, the u hetrodox" ladies ; merging all minor 
 and unessential crochets in the grand teaching of the G-ospel, 
 as propounded by the one Head of all the churches : then the 
 practical pastor pleaded for its slender funds from his pulpit, 
 from which he never spoke in vain ; and in an inconceivably 
 short time he had the satisfaction of seeing a healthy, cheer- 
 ful, flourishing Christian charity spring up from the ruins of 
 the sectarian one, full of sociability and kindness, numbering 
 in its " executive" forty of the most influential ladies of the 
 town, instead of two into which it had dwindled \ who, laying 
 aside all their figments about " high church," " low church," 
 and " chapel" — as if there would be any such distinctions in ' 
 heaven ! — joined heart and hand in the work, which promises a 
 large reward, when done in His name who smiles on a " cup of 
 cold water given for His sake — the motive sublimating the deed 
 and stamping it with the impress of immortality, while in all 
 else we see the image of our own frailty and decay. 
 
 " A great naturalist once put some pepper into a glass of 
 water, and by means of a microscope discovered in that water, 
 a multitude of animalcula?, which were a thousand million 
 times smaller than a grain of sand I" 
 
 " A thousand millions I" How imagination loses itself, and 
 all idea is confounded in such contemplation ! and yet upon 
 these atoms G-od has stamped the broad arrow of his own in- 
 
 c c 
 
386 A LIFE-LONG STORT. 
 
 fimfcy : so upon an action done in His name, though in itself 
 small as these atoms of animal life, God impresses His own 
 eternity. 
 
 Our zealous young pastor also bestowed great attention on 
 those blessed reservoirs, from which streamlets are ever running 
 into the great ocean of God's love ; those forges wherein are 
 cast chains for binding tens of thousands immortal spirits to 
 the Rock of Ages— the Sabbath schools— animating them with a 
 new principle, and rectifying palpable contradictions. 
 
 He had no idea of their being perverted into pious show- 
 rooms, where displays of rivalry are exhibited— not which lady 
 teacher, both by precept and example, shall outdo her sister 
 teacher in bringing ignorant little creatures to a knowledge of 
 " their Father in heaven" — but which can display the most 
 fashionable garment, the most gaudy plume, waving from the 
 theatrical-looking hat, or the most balloon-like dimensions : he 
 had no idea of the school-room being made a platform whereon 
 one grade of teachers, perhaps a little better off in the world 
 than another, gave themselves "fine-lady" airs, snubbed, 
 ridiculed, and looked daggers of contempt on those less favored 
 by education, fortune, birth, but above all by dress than them- 
 selves ; thereby setting a most baneful example to the little 
 shrewd, observant, imitative immortals before whom they are 
 to " shine as lights" and into whose speculative minds, after 
 rising from their knees, they have poured such teachings as 
 " let nothing be done through strife or vain glory, but in lowliness 
 of mind, let each esteem others better than themselves:' 
 " Be not puffed up." " Pride goeth before destruction." 
 " There is no respect of persons with God.'' 
 "Be courteous:" 
 
 And so the hard - working Courtenaye, regularly de- 
 voted two hours on each Sabbath morning to the duties 
 of the schools, addressing and encouraging the children, 
 organizing and re-organizing the muddled system, or rather 
 want of system ; animating the teachers with a new and elevat- 
 ing principle, love to their fellow creatures, springing as a 
 necessary consequence from love to God ; and at length the 
 Sabbath-schools flourished. But there was another circumstance 
 that rolled, with piercing power, into the heart of the young re- 
 former, filled as it was with yearning love for souls ; in the 
 same uuelevating, or rather despotic spirit of sectarianism— not- 
 
THE BATTLE FOUGHT AOT WO>". 3S7 
 
 withstanding: the well-known fact that many souls steeped in 
 E^vptian moral darkness had been rescued from Satan's grasp 
 and brought to the foot of the Cross " clothed and in their 
 rio-ht mind" — the City Missionary was permitted to leave the 
 town of D , all reeking as it was with brutalizing drunken- 
 ness and oaths, be-crinolined harlotry, sickening blasphemy, and 
 open Sabbath desecration, because the paltry sum required for 
 his maintenance could not be subscribed ! It was whispered 
 that the real reason was, because it was not quite " orthodox" 
 to imitate the great city missionary Christ, and carry " glad 
 tidings " into the streets and lanes, and alleys, and so the 
 powers * cared for none of these things" but went on " eating 
 and drinking," and souls went on perishing and perishing. They 
 would not go themselves into the dark abodes of want, and 
 guilt and grief, neither would they help those who did. They 
 would not yield their right to the* crown, but they would not 
 take up the* Cross ; they stood by their Loed when Hosannas 
 pealed over the air, but they would not go into the dark shades 
 of Gethsemane, or into the fierce Eoman hall, and from thence to 
 Calvarv : they cared for none of these things. 
 
 Oh,* the curse hovering, with pestilent wing, over the red- 
 tapeism of religion in Christian England! The miserable, 
 narrow, conventional beat of ecclesiastical etiquette, that wont 
 try to save a perishing soul unless 'tis saved by rule, and man- 
 made creeds, or benighted Acts of benighted Parliaments ! 
 
 Oh, this terrible Gordian knot, tying up the heart's most 
 god-like sympathies in its hard coil ! When will the two-edged 
 sword of the world's great Conqueror cut it, that " rivers ;; of 
 love, and peace, and jov may flow out, where all is cold, and 
 selfish, and barren ! When will the sneering, u am I my bro- 
 ther's keeper' indifference, give way to the claims of the loving, 
 yearning, compassionate Saviour, and drink into the spirit of 
 those^ondrous words — sad as if every letter were a teardrop — 
 " Oh, Jerusalem. Jerusalem : if thou hadst known, even thou in 
 this thy day, the things that belong unto thy peace, but now are they 
 hid from thine eyes." 
 
 In chapter ninth, the efforts of Courtenaye on behalf of this 
 neglected agent of Christ's church, the City Mission, were 
 recorded, hence we need not repeat them, but simply state that 
 
 a new order of things sprung up in D , through his 
 
 labours and prayers ; instead of the " hyssop on the wall" there 
 was the " cedar of Lebanon. 
 
 c c2 
 
888 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 Instead of " the thorn came up the fir-tree ;" and instead of 
 the " briar came up the myrtle, which shall be to the Lord an 
 everlasting sign, which shall wot be cut off." 
 
 "Shall not be cut ofe." jSo! a greater than iUexander 
 or Caesar had been there : they fought to dethrone dust and 
 ashes, like themselves ; the young soldier of the Cross fought to 
 dethrone "the Prince of the power of the air; to turn men from 
 darkness to light— from the power of Satan to God, and it shall 
 
 NOT BE CUT OEF." 
 
 " One real active minister of Christ," says the great and 
 good Dr. McNeile, " does more for a neighbourhood than a 
 hundred policemen ; they can but restrain vice, while he can 
 root it out and plant virtue in its place." Never was this 
 truth more signally illustrated than in the career of Courte- 
 aye. "We must not, however, withhold the fact that, in the 
 
 eves of a few in the town of D , his singular heterodoxy was 
 
 a leprous spot, that even the manifest indwelling Spirit of 
 God, and the " blood ichich cleanseth from ell sin," could not 
 purify: — one off-shoot of Anglo-popery so "strong," that he 
 would have entered the lists at any hour of the day or night, 
 and gladiated with true ecclesiastical fureur for his two favo- 
 rite myths, each in a gallopping consumption — apostolic suc- 
 cession and baptismal regeneration, was yet too weak for every 
 day work — his "nerves," poor fellow! not allowing him to 
 follow his blaster into the " highways," or abodes of want and 
 sorrow, to " bring glory to God/' by proclaiming " glad 
 tidings;" for, strange as it may seem, fond as he was of the 
 "Fathers," no one ever heard this "strong," able-bodied 
 young man quote that pearl of human sayings, by Augustine : 
 " if any man love not the Saviour above all, he does not love 
 him at all" Oh, no ! offshoot was too fond of indulging him- 
 self in what the Apostle Paul calls "vain jangling;" "giving 
 heed to fables; vain babblings and traditions of men ;" 
 
 "Desiring to be teachers of the law; understanding neither 
 what they say, nor whereof they affirm? 
 
 Hence our reader will not be surprised when informed that 
 he attacked the " latitudinarian " teaching and practice of the 
 young evangelist, and in a sort of " Tract for the Times," en- 
 titleof " Eeal Sucession," vainly endeavoured to counteract his 
 labours of love. As to the tract itself, the less that is said 
 the better. 
 
THE BATTLE FOrGHT AND W03ST. 389 
 
 Foolish young man! he belonged to father a flourishing 
 school just* then, but it has since declined ; as more light 
 streams into the minds of men, they see more of the fallacy of 
 its doo-mas. We just give a cursory glance at one or two of 
 these, showing their direct contradiction to inspiration. 
 
 G-od says : " My word shall not return unto me void. It is 
 sharp and powerful as a two-edged sword. Xot by might nor by 
 poicer, but bymy Spirit." 
 
 Dogma says : " The Bible is never likely to do much for the 
 propagation of the Grospel, without a contemporaneous institu- 
 tion of a Christian ministry," etc. 
 
 G-od says: " There is neither Jew nor Greek, bond nor free, 
 circumcision nor nncircumciswn, but Christ is all and in all. 
 
 Dogma says : " To league with other denominations (doing 
 evil that good may come !), and acting upon the latitudmarian 
 principles which the heterogeneous constitution of the Bible 
 Society requires, is what no Catholic-minded person can 
 do (!)" 
 
 It was all in vain that fact upon fact falsified these dogmas ; 
 that ministers of the Gospel, as distinguished by intellectual 
 and scholarlv attainments as by practical godliness and faith, 
 boldly repudiated such teaching; or that Christ spoke in the 
 u fruits" of the work. Dogma "cared for none of these 
 things" and continued to believe the Bible very much in the 
 dark upon such matters. 
 
 But the sands in the glass of Courtenaye's life were running 
 low; the beams of this "burning and shining light" were 
 about to be withdrawn, and this gallant standard-bearer of the 
 Cross to be called from the ranks of the church militant to 
 those of the church triumphant. 
 
 It was a mysterious dispensation, but " God's ways are not 
 our ways, neitlur are His thoughts cur thoughts:'' 
 
 It was a strong faith- trial to his devoted flock. Perhaps 
 they had unconsciously set up an idol, and were giving to the 
 creature the glory due to the Creator, or were trusting to " an 
 arm of flesh f and incurred the "woe" denounced against all 
 who do so. 
 
 As all natural motion is quickest when nearest the centre, 
 so the life of the young apostle simulated more closely to that 
 of his beloved Master ; more self-denying, more humble, more 
 
390 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 holy ; and probably never, while memory holds her seat, will 
 the echo of his last appeal fade from the hearts of his"hearers. 
 As he stood holding np the Cross, and beseeching his 
 fellow-sinners to " look and live]'' he seemed, like the Hebrew 
 leader, to have been upon the mount with God, and over- 
 shadowed still with the glory of the Divine presence. 
 
 His text was taken from that portion of God's truth to 
 which an emphatic blessing is promised : — " / Jesus have sent 
 mine angel to testify these things." A live coal from thelaltar had 
 touched the speaker's lips; a great wave of inspiration rolled 
 over his soul, and forth rushed the glory-stream, crested with 
 eloquence, that flew swift-winged and burning into his 
 hearers' hearts. 
 
 "Nothing is so indecent as dead preaching to dead souls," 
 says the great and good Archbishop Usher, in his somewhat 
 quaint, but forcible manner. Difficult would it have been to 
 sleep under such a preacher as Courtenaye. Would that in 
 our seventeen thousand passionless pulpits we had a band of 
 such spirits ! "We should then have no congregations of " thir- 
 teen and a half" listening to "dead preaching." No sanctu- 
 aries closed all the week, and opened once on the holy Sabbath 
 for a dole of adulterated spiritual food to famishing thousands. 
 
 No solemn buffoonery and awful trifling in our pulpits ; or 
 public ridicule excited by the phraseology of fashionable 
 preachers while delivering their Master's messages. 
 
 No half-hearted men, baptised into the name of Christ, 
 afraid or ashamed to hold up the one Saviour to the dying 
 sinner's eye. 
 
 No monstrous records of Christian ministers refusing to 
 bury a brother because he did not subscribe to his dogmas : — 
 
 " The soul gone home to rest on high, 
 The body refused a grave." 
 
 No feelings of humanity outraged by reading in a public journal 
 of a poor miserable pauper woman, condemned by a minister of 
 the Gospel (and a Poor-law Guardian to boot) to ten days' soli- 
 tary confinement for writing on her Prayer-Book with a pin 
 during preaching. 
 
 No parish clerks obliged to read the burial service over dead 
 episcopal bodies — the Elector or Curate not being allowed to 
 perform the mournful office, because of some " tottering wall 
 
THE BATTLE EOUGHT A>"D WO>". o91 
 
 or bowing fence." or half-witted act of a half-witted Parlia- 
 ment ; thus violating the true apostolic injunction, " let all 
 
 THINGS BE DO>~E DECENTLY A>~D IX OBDEB." 
 
 No Protestant "lambs" running about with images of the 
 Virgin, or fragments of dead sinners' bones as charms (!) round 
 their little necks. 
 
 Xo " spiritual teachers " embracing in their principles, and 
 embodying in their practice, the mind and soul-driveling dogma 
 of Koine, now in its death-throe from a stroke of the Sun, — 
 "ignorance is the parent of devotion." As if light and dark- 
 ness could ever co-mingle their distinctive elements ! 
 
 Xo indecent shoveling the little unbaptized bodies of little 
 glorified spirits into any hole of the earth where the resurrec- 
 tion Angel shall not find them among the mystic font-made 
 "heirs of the kingdom of heaven." 
 
 Xo ! "We should have none of these spirituality, humanity- 
 deadenins: charlatanisms, if we had more preachers filled with 
 the Holy Grhost and with love like Courtenaye, no matter by 
 what name known among men ; and long after his spirit had 
 joined the ranks of ''the just made perfect" did his flock re- 
 member the singularly prophetic hymn, selected by himself for 
 that last evening's service, and the solemn earnestness of his 
 rich deep tones : — 
 
 " I want an even, strong desire, 
 I want a calmly fervent zeal, 
 To save poor souls out of the fire, 
 To snatch them from the verge of hell, 
 And turn them to a pardoning God, 
 And quench the brands in Jesu"s blood. 
 
 I would the precious time redeem, 
 And longer five for this alone, 
 To spend, and to be spent for them, 
 Who have not yet my Saviour known ; 
 Fully on these my mission prove, 
 And only breathe to breathe thy love. 
 
 My talents, gifts, and graces Lord, 
 
 Into thy blessed hands receive ; 
 
 And let me live to preach thy word : 
 
 And let me to thy glory hve ; 
 
 My every sacred moment spend 
 
 In making known the sinner's Friend." 
 
 But while his last sermon was honoured by his Master, and 
 through it many souls were brought to the publican's place of 
 
392 A LIFE-LONG STORT. 
 
 penitential sorrow, there was one on whose hushed heart it 
 fell with a strange and thrilling awe ; one into whose depths 
 more intensely had grown her great idolatry. Alas ! poor wife ! 
 
 " , Bliss 
 
 Shone o'er her heart from every look of his 
 When hut to see him, hear him, breathe the air 
 In which he dwelt, was thy soul's fondest prayer ! 
 When round him hung such a perpetual spell, 
 "Whate'er he did none ever did so well, 
 Too happy days ! when, if he touched a flower. 
 Or gem of thine, 'twas sacred from that hour !"' 
 
 and as she sat listening, with indrawn breath, to the harmony 
 
 of his voice, painting in burning eloquence the bliss of heaven, 
 
 as if with mortal eye he had already pierced the veil, and saw the 
 
 " Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood 
 Stand drest in living green," 
 
 oh, she was ready to do or suffer aught for the sake of that 
 Religion he so beautifully embodied in his life and doctrine ! 
 She could triumphantly descend into the " dark valley of the 
 Shadow of Death;' but it must be leaning on the arm of her earthly 
 beloved ! She longed to stretch her glad wing and soar to 
 heaven, but it would have been no heaven without him! 
 
 " Little children keep yourselves from idols!' 7 
 
 Courtenaye had resisted every attempt on the part of his 
 flock to induce him to curtail his labours ; he was willing to 
 '• spend and to be spent " in the cause he loved, and he assured 
 them "his sweetest rest was to work for God." 
 
 After preaching in the " highway' 1 on the Monday following 
 his last earthly sabbath, he went in the evening to the village 
 of Dale, to preside at a meeting for his darling cause, the City 
 Mission, where he pleaded with his usual eloquence and suc- 
 cess, for what comes from the heart generally goes to the heart. 
 The place was so crowded that be had the utmost difficulty in 
 making his way from the platform into the air, almost ex- 
 hausted with fatigue and over-heat ; during his homeward 
 walk a severe shower fell, which thoroughly drenched him, and 
 on his arrival he took the usual preventive for cold, and retired 
 to his deeply needed rest, feeling little or no inconvenience ; 
 but in a few hours he was roused by those fearful indications 
 he knew full well, from past experience, preceded his old enemy, 
 inflammation on the chest. X o time was lost, medical aid was 
 summoned, and those deadly means to a deadly end resorted to 
 
THE BATTLE FOUGHT AND WO*. 393 
 
 till the verv remedy destroyed that which disease spared, 
 and after three days* of acute suffering, the symptoms began 
 to vield : but alas I alas ! the loss of the precious life-current 
 nought could supply, and his agonized wife read in the faces of 
 the medical advisers, that there was no hope ! — that he in whom 
 her life was bound up was gradually fading away 
 
 Too weak to speak, Courtenaye pressed the cold hand of his 
 wife, and raised his eyes with an expression which once again 
 said: " let us meet there!" He then closed them and lay calm 
 and still, a smile so seraphic overspreading his brow, that 
 the beautiful temple of the Holy Ghost seemed already illumi- 
 nated with rays streaming from the heavenly glory. 
 
 Oh, what burning prayers ! what strong crying and tears ! 
 what agonized pleadings, M Spare him, oh my God ! spare 
 lam and take all beside f went up through "midnight's 
 breathless gloom" from the quaking heart of the stricken 
 wife."' Poor Mary ! she had drank deep into the error of 
 manv a woman's heart, loving holiness because it dwelt in her 
 idol," and believing she loved it for itself. She had fulfilled her 
 onerous duties with a cheerful heart-energy that she imagined 
 sprung from love to Him who died for her, when it only gushed 
 from creature-affection twining round the object who lay sc 
 death-like there ! 
 
 How often, when listening to his teaching had she believed 
 herself ready to make any sacrifice her God may require, and 
 murmur, with unblenchhig lip, " Tlnj icill be done f but now 
 she wonders whereto the old ease with which the searching 
 words rolled off her tongue is vanished, for the pale image of 
 her husband rises up between her and her God ! 
 
 Xow she cannot break this box of precious ointment and 
 pour it on the Master's head ! 
 
 Xow, though the altar and the wood have long been ready, 
 she cannot say, ; * my Father, here is the lamb for a burnt 
 offering ! " she is in the seven-times heated furnace, but she 
 cannot see through Faith's tear-blinded vision, ''a form like 
 unto tlie Son oj God' : walking by her side ! 
 
 Poor shrinking wife ! How many like thee have felt, if they 
 have not uttered, the plaint " my God ! I could part with all 
 save this ! I could bear anvthin^ but this/' while the verv re- 
 
394 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 servation, touching as it is, the " hut this," proves it is the gift 
 recalled by the merciful One to lead the faltering footsteps 
 beyond this soul-trammeling earth. 
 
 During four torturing days and nights Mary never left that 
 precious side ; no bodily or mental weakness is hers ! The 
 delicate frame erst "a reed shaken by the wind," has become 
 a " strong cedar." Nerved by love and despair she has the lofty 
 soul of a martyr. Solemnly and surely she sees the light of her 
 heart fading ; but no plaint or wail that could fall on the ear 
 of the hushed sleeper, and disturb the calm that sits like the 
 "signet rinsr of heaven" on her husband's face is heard: 
 and when tender friends, dreading lest the overshadowing of 
 Death on that peaceful smile should be more than the tortured 
 wife could bear, urged her to take a short repose, she sadly 
 shook her head. 
 
 " Has this world aught for her to fear, 
 When death is on his brow ? 
 ' ' Life — life what means it ? mine is here — 
 I will not leave him now ! " 
 I have been with him in his hour 
 Of glory, and of bliss ; 
 Doubt not their mem'ry's living power, 
 To strengthen me for this." 
 
 And there she knelt by his side, his cold hand clasped in 
 her's, as if growing into it ; her face white as a snowdrop, her 
 eyes dilated and fixed. There she knelt, with heart nerved as 
 only woman's can be for such scenes ; no obtrusive grief, no 
 tears, no wailing, though every string in her heart is cracking, 
 and hope is crushed in its mournful depths. 
 
 A few moments before the spirit of Courtenaye took 
 its flight, he opened his eyes and fixed them on his wife 
 with a look of unutterable affection ; then a ray of sadness 
 came over them ; life suddenly grew intensely dear for 
 her sweet sake, and he made an effort to rise, as if to do 
 battle with the foe. It was the last struggle of earthly love. 
 The wings, plumed and stretched for the homeward flight, 
 drooped for one moment earthward, hovering over the " love 
 strong as death" 
 
 ' ' We would see Jesus, yet the spirit lingers 
 Round the dear objects it has loved so long, 
 And earth from earth can scarce unclose her fingers — 
 Our love to Thee makes not this love less strong." 
 
THE BATTLE TOTTGHT AND WON. 395 
 
 Exhausted by the effort, the dying pastor fell back, and laid 
 calm and still. In a few moments he once more opened his 
 eyes; the sad expressson was gone, and the old peace-look come 
 back, but too weak to speak, he glanced wistfully into Mary's 
 face, and then towards the door, and she read in that glance, 
 
 with agony, " the children." .**.'* 
 
 Ere many moments, they were at his side — the bright joyous 
 May, and the boy-bird, who had been sent to fill the 
 place of the escaped beauty-bird. They placed his boy on the 
 bed, while Mary held their little girl to his paling lips ; still he 
 looked towards" the door, and poor Mary's heart smote her — 
 for the Jirst time she had forgotten Donald ! When the noble 
 boy came softly in on tip-toe, Courtenaye seemed satisfied, and 
 as one after another they were lifted to kiss him, he looked at 
 his pale wife, then upward, and with a mighty effort, he raised 
 his arm, and in tones that the music of heaven was already 
 stealing over, exclaimed, " let us all meet there /" 
 
 As the words fell on Mary's shrinking ear, thoughts of their 
 star, and the storm, and those same dear lips (oh ! how changed 
 now !) uttering those same words swept through her heart, and 
 she felt her trial-hour was come. 
 
 It was a lovely, but mournful sight. One of life's lay sermons 
 that preach more powerfully than a thousand written dis- 
 courses, " HERE AVE HAVE SO ABIDING STAT." 
 
 It was a lovely, but mournful sight : the bright locks and 
 sunny brow of early childhood beside the still calm face of 
 death. The last long kiss — the last ray of earthly love 
 beaming from eyes soon to be quenched in the grave's night — 
 the woe of the 'heart-broken wife ! But it passed away, and 
 Courtenaye has done with the things and objects of time ! 
 
 Eor some hours after this, he lay so motionless that they 
 thought him dead ; but the pulse of life still fluttered feebly. 
 He seemed resting on the shores of time, contemplating the 
 gtary already opening beyond its shifting scenes, ere he took 
 wing to summer amidst its unbroken bliss ; and listening with 
 rapt ear to the sounds of triumphant music, sweeping earth- 
 ward from the hills of the Crystal City. He was indeed dead 
 to all outer life, but the spirit lingered on time's shore. 
 
 "Was it to tell that mournful group — 
 
 " Jesus can make a dying bed 
 Soft e'en as downy pillows are ?' 
 
396 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 "Was it to show how the man who walks with Grod in the days 
 of his strength, can lean on Him in his hour of weakness ? or, 
 to prove how sweeter far the weary head can rest on the human 
 heart of the sinner's Saviour, than on creeds and works ? 
 
 A privileged few, one after another, drew near to ascertain 
 if their beloved pastor recognised them, and "he gave no sign;" 
 but to Mary's voice (oh ! this wondrous earthly love !) he 
 feebly pressed her hand. So feebly that none but the heart 
 of affection would have felt the pressure ; aud last of all, her 
 voice, and the sweet name of wife moved him not ; the spirit 
 had quitted time's shore, but fluttered near its margin. 
 
 Ah ! what a moment for Mary, when the loving heart of her 
 husband quickened not at the sound of her voice ! 
 
 A few more moments of wordless anguish, and over that 
 beautiful face stole the shadow which Q-athers but once : asain 
 Mary laid her white cheek close to his and whispered, but he 
 knew her not ! A friend then bent over him, and gently 
 breathed into the dull cold ear, " Jesus.'* 
 
 Ah, he knows that name ! His whole countenance beamed 
 with a spirit-light as of yore, when he proclaimed it to a dying 
 world ! 
 
 His eye shone with a brightness too dazzling for their gaze, 
 and murmuring in a voice sweet as the harps of heaven, the 
 precious name, without one siirh or struggle his ransomed soul 
 soared into the presence of Him, whom not having seen he 
 loved 
 
 " I heard a voice from Heaven saying unto me write from hence" 
 forth— 
 
 "Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord." 
 
 " Yea saith the Spirit, thet rest from their labours, 
 and their works do follow them." 
 
 " Who are these arrayed in white, 
 Brighter than the noon-day sun ? 
 Foremost of the sons of light, 
 Nearest the eternal throne 1 
 These are they that bore the cross, 
 Nobly for their Master stood ; 
 Sufferers in his righteous cause, 
 Followers of their dying God." 
 
 Few were ever bound to earth by stronger or tenderer ties than 
 
THE BATTLE FOUGHT AXD WO>". 397 
 
 Courtenave ; few possessed a deeper fount of affection and sym- 
 pathy, welling out on all around, than that dwelling in his mag- 
 nificent heart ; few had been more deeply loved, admired, 
 courted, followed, and yet he joyfully leaves all, and softly as 
 the closing of the summer flower he lays his head on the 
 wounded breast of Jesus, and resigns his spirit for eternity 
 into His hands. " To live, had been Christ; so, to die, was gain/' 
 
 Even in the once bigoted town of D , the noble cha- 
 racter of the young apostle was duly estimated, and the puny 
 few, who during his life had vainly tried to cast a stain on his 
 faith, paused with a strange feeling busy at their hearts at the 
 words " He is Dead!" 
 
 During his short fatal illness the wealthy and titled, as well 
 a^ the poor and sorrowful, besieged his house, anxious for the last 
 account of one so deeply valued. His church was kept open 
 and crowded by numbers, not only of his own flock^ but of 
 other churches, petitioning for the lengthening out of his useful 
 life ; but touching most of all was it to see the lambs of his 
 fold voluntarilv meeting together, and prostrating themselves at 
 Mercy's footstool, pleading with tears for the life of him who 
 had been their teacher, guide, brother, friend. 
 
 " W hat I do thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know here- 
 after.'' . • 
 
 The day of the funeral was one much to be remembered in 
 
 the town 'of D . Rank sent its carriages to testify respect. 
 
 "Wealth drew down its blinds. Shops were all closed, and hun- 
 dreds of well dressed men formed an uninvited convoy to attend 
 the unconscious clay to its last lone resting place ; still no proof 
 of heart-sovvovr might have dwelt in these deeds, and 'twas only 
 when the eve of the passer-by rested on the rugged or wasted 
 faces of the poor (all of whom had contrived to " get a little bit 
 of black" to show their respectful affection), and marked the 
 swelling breast and streaming cheek, that could be estimated 
 how de^ep and sincere was the mourning for one, who had come 
 among them as a man, " with like passions as themselves," and 
 met them as friend, and brother, and fellow-sinner. 
 
 What are the conqueror's plaudits, rising on the air bur- 
 thened with the widow's sigh and the orphan's wail, to a scene 
 like this ! 
 
398 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 " But ' could not He ivho opened the eyes of the blind have caused 
 that even this man should not have died ?' " 
 
 Be still, doubting heart, (i ye of little faith /" Knowest thou 
 what post of transcendaut glory the young evangelist fills 
 'mid the ranks of heaven's lofty hierarchy r Canst thou 
 pierce through the horizon of Eternity, and gaze on those 
 crowned kings 
 
 " Foremost mid the sons of light, 
 Nearest the Eternal throne f 
 
 "Wilt thou look on bliss " it has not entered into the heart of 
 man to conceive ? :> 
 
 Nay, be still ! " What thou knowest not now, thou shalt hnov) 
 hereafter y 
 
 Poor idolising wife ! The " cloud had arisen no bigger than 
 a man's hand, at first, but as it rolled onward it gathered 
 darkness and terror, extending over and enveloping the late 
 cloudless sky of her being. Onward it rolled, darker and more 
 portentious grew that threatening cloud overshadowing her 
 quaking soul, till it burst with a fearful crash ! The tempest 
 descended, the bolt fell, and her Beautiful is stricken, while 
 no light flashes through the gloom to speak of brightness when 
 the storm is spent ! 
 
 Not alone is her idol shattered, but the very altar on which 
 it stood in its proud beauty is cleft to the foundation. 
 " Little children, keep your selves from idols" 
 Sympathising friends unwreathed the arms twined round the 
 lifeless clay ; tender ones bore her from the breast never before 
 insensible to her clinging caress, and at her cry to be " left 
 alone," Mary falls on her lonely couch. 
 
 Alone — 'Tis sacred ground ; we will not raise the veil, and 
 look, even with tear-dimmed eye, on the mighty sorrow that 
 seeks no sympathy, asks for no relief. 
 
ALONE WITH THE DEAD. 399 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 ' And but for that sad shrouded eye, 
 Which fires not, weeps not, wins not no^- 
 And but for that, dull changeless brow, 
 Whose touch thrills with mortality, 
 And curdles to the gazer's heart." 
 
 A few hours later, and the desolate widow stands beside her 
 sleeping May ; she has still love-links to this chequered life. 
 Tenderly kissing the untroubled brow of the young sleeper, she 
 threw her exhausted frame beside the child, and vainly tried to 
 hush awhile her mighty sorrow in sleep, but, 
 
 " Kind Nature's soft restorer,'' 
 
 affrighted at such a waste of woe, had fled ! 
 
 With a low wail Mary rises from her couch, and passing 
 noiselessly into the lobby, opens a window looking down on the 
 flowery lawn. 
 
 " Wildly, spiritually bright," 
 
 as of yore, shone their star, throwing its trembling glory on the 
 silent earth, all unreeking its woes, its wrongs, its crimes. The 
 trees whispered lovingly as the wind kissed their tremulous 
 leaves. His flowers- had folded their dewy beauties, and bent their 
 graceful heads, as if in sadness. Oh ! how stormless, how calm 
 the outer world ! How tempest-lashed the world within ! 
 
 The breeze as it wandered over the feverish brow of the 
 
400 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 watcher, revived her ; long and intensely she gazed into those 
 blue mysterious depths ; the dark leaves seemed to her smitten 
 soul, to be chanting a mournful requiem to the holy stars, and 
 telling of her loss. 
 
 Oh, what torrents of tender thought, what a storm of memory 
 beat on her agonized soul ! Suddenly stretching her yearning 
 arms towards their star, she exclaimed, " My life ! my love ! thy 
 wife, will meet thee there !" 
 
 Startled by a human voice in the deep midnight, a rustling 
 issued from a rose-bush beneath — tended but a few short hours 
 since so carefully by him — and with a slight cry as of pain, a bird 
 darted up, and flew past Mary so closely that the sweep of its 
 gentle wing touched her cheek. 
 
 " Poor bird !" she exclaimed in broken accents, M is it thy first 
 night of widowhood too ?" 
 
 Trembling at the sound of her own voice, the dreadful import 
 of her words burns with intenser anguish into her soul ! Can he 
 be dead ! 
 
 Then, with somewhat of her former impulsiveness, she resolves 
 to watch bv him in his dreamless sleep. Re-entering her room 
 she cast a troubled look on her slumbering children, and lighting 
 a small silver lamp, sought, with stealthy tread, the precious clay 
 reposing in a chamber at the end of the lobby. She reached the 
 d oor — for one moment paused irresolutely, — and then, with 
 shakino- hand, the lock is turned, and she is alone with the stern 
 majesty of Death. 
 
 Castino: a shrinking eye towards his low resting place, she 
 involuntarilv shaded the lamp with her hand, as if fearing its 
 light should fall too suddenly, and startle the deep repose of 
 those sealed orbs. Placing it on the mantelpiece, she drew near, 
 and stood beside her broken idol. 
 
 Stricken down almost suddenly in life's full flush, disease had 
 left no mar or stain on that noble face : years had not planted 
 one wrinkle on that brow, so glorious in its mysterious repose, so 
 late the empire of Imperial Thought : Time's hand had not 
 mingled one silver thread 'mid the clustering curls of that 
 majestic head. 
 
 What a strange solemn beauty slept on those parted lips ! 
 
 How mockingly Kfe-like the curved nostril seemed to pulsate ! 
 
 How like unto a soft silken slumber that dreamless rest ! 
 
 Mary gazes on the kingly form before her, yet she weeps not ; 
 
ALONE WITH THE DEAD. 401 
 
 she is at the sepulchre, but no angel is there to " roll away the 
 stone." 
 
 Oh God! can he be dead! Is it not a frightful dream from 
 which she shall awaken at the call of lore's own deep tones ? 
 
 Yes, yes ! he must, he will awake, and the desolate wife lays 
 her cheek close to the scarce whiter face there ? Why does she 
 start and shudder 1 Ah ! earth has no touch like that ! That 
 current frozen by the breath of Death ! 
 
 She passed her fingers fondly through his luxuriant hair : how 
 its dank, heavy clinging " thrilled to the bone !" 
 
 She took the pulseless hand in hers, and held it to her 
 bosom as if to warm it, then covered it with kisses — calling 
 on him, in heart-piercing tones, " to speak only one word of 
 comfort to his heart-broken wife !" 
 
 Could not that strong love-cry rouse the " dull cold ear 
 of death T 
 
 Could not those tender kisses woo back, for one short hour, the 
 absent spirit to its late glorious abode ? 
 
 " Nay, that shrouded eye 
 Weeps not, fires not, wins not now.'' 
 
 Oh, that gulf of woe ! How unfathomable to mortal sounding ! 
 
 Oh, the ages gathered within that hour's watching with the 
 dead ! 
 
 The lamp that had flooded her path with such tender bril- 
 liancy had been suddenly quenched, and the world was left 
 in darkness ; her very soul seemed crumbling in her bosom ; all 
 things were becoming intangible, melting, sliding from her grasp: 
 the thunders of Sinai seemed loosened on her naked soul, and 
 from its shattered depths went up the cry, " why hast Thou dealt 
 thus with me f* 
 
 She could not "kiss the rod." The winding-sheet hid from 
 sight the pierced Hand that held it, and with a bitter crv, 
 "forsaken of God and man!" she fell heavily on the beautiful 
 clay, crushed beneath the mountain-weight of despair. 
 
 Poor child of sorrow ! a storm has descended on life's lake, but 
 the Master seems to be "asleep on the pillow." 
 
 An angel has troubled the waters, but there is no loving voice, 
 saying, " Wilt thou be made whole f 
 
 She is come to the Marah stream, but where is the hand 
 to sweeten it ? 
 
 D D 
 
402 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 She is in the hurricane, but where is the sheltering Rock ? 
 
 She is in the cloud, but where is the mercy-bow ? 
 " Little children keep yourselves from idols." 
 
 On the dead body, that desolate woman lay crushed, a heap of 
 broken beauty, o'er which the lightning scathe had past, and 
 blasted all its glory. 
 
 The precious barque had gone down, freighted with her 
 heart's one treasure, and the proud death- waves had rolled 
 back and flooded her soul. 
 
 Suddenly — as if pierced by an unseen arrow, she leaps to her 
 feet ; the startled blood rushes in torrents through her heart ; an 
 ice-bolt freezes into her brain ! Great God ! have the dead power 
 to move ? 
 
 As if swept by spirit-wings, the curtains are agitated ! Myste- 
 rious foot-fails smite on her strained ear ! A white form floats 
 before her shrinking vision in the dim and shadowy light ! 
 
 With a faint shriek she prest her hand on her starting 
 eye balls, and rushing towards that true breast as of yore, threw 
 herself forward, shrieking " Save me ! save me!" 
 
 Poor frightened bird, look up ! Tis only the ministering angel 
 come to roll away the stone. 'Tis only the loving voice asking 
 " Wilt thou be made whole : ? " 'Tis only the messenger come to tell 
 thee the Master is awake and rebuking the waves ; 'tis only 
 the hand sweetening the Marah waters ; the finger of love 
 pointing to the smitten Rock, and the Mercy-bow. 
 
 Look up, stricken one ! Knowest thou not that sweet face, with 
 its clustering curls of gold ? See'st thou not the father's image 
 dwelleth there ? Look up ! 'Tis only thine own, sweet first- 
 born, May ! 
 
 But the mourner made no sign. Clinging convulsively to the 
 dead body, sense seemed forsaking her, when, nestling close, May 
 put her small hand into the stony palm of her mother, and 
 timidly whispered, " my own mamma !" 
 
 Then the revulsion of feeling brought back the long-forgotten 
 tears, and the desolate one wept piteously. 
 
 Alarmed at her mother's grief, the timid little creature knelt 
 softly by her side, and clasping her hands, raised her eyes, all 
 full of child-faith, and in quivering tones sobbed out, " pray God 
 comfort poor dear mamma, and make her happy again, for Jesus 
 Christ's sake!" 
 
• That shrouded eye 
 
 Fires not. wins not, weep? not now."' 
 
 Chap. xx\i 
 
ALONE "WITH THE DEAD. 403 
 
 Audibly, distinctly into Mary's heart came the answer to that 
 prayer of child-faith and sorrow, — 
 
 " AS ONE AVHOM HIS MOTHER COMFORTETH, SO WILL I COM- 
 FORT THEE." 
 
 Oh, those seraphic spirit-tones ! Mortal melody may not com- 
 pare with its marvellous music ! 
 
 Marv looked round, almost expecting to see some glorious 
 being from whose harp this murmur of mercy fell, but all was 
 dim and shadowy still. 
 
 Clasping her child close to her breast, " ' God be merciful to 
 me a sinner!"' burst from her white lip, and sinking on her 
 knees, she poured her heavy-laden tale into the Ear that never 
 grows weary. The angel had rolled away the stone, and drops 
 from Calvary's mournful height distil into the rents of that riven 
 
 J-i PQT*f" 
 
 Oh, what lessons ! what readings ! what interpretations follow 
 in one short hour ! 
 
 She can now decipher the mystic writing on the marble scroll 
 before her, and unveil the meaning of those strange drawings that 
 agitated her of yore. 
 
 She can plainly read the lesson amid the flickering shadows of 
 that sepulchral room, which the broad and blessed sun-light had 
 hidden from sight in his dazzling rays, — 
 
 " Little children keep yourselves from idols." 
 
 She can look on that quiet sleeper, whose love made her life 
 one long dream of unbroken bliss, and yet feel a sense of deep 
 peace within, as one "comforted as a mother comforteth." _ 
 
 Impressing a long lingering kiss on those silent lips, she 
 gathered her golden-headed child closer to her bosom, sought her 
 chamber, and laying the ministering angel on her bed, sunk once 
 more on willing knee, and poured her " soul's full tide" into 
 the ear of Him who hears the cry of the widow and the 
 orphan. 
 
 " Counting their sighs and treasuring up their tears.' 
 
 And then she arose strengthened for the life-conflict yet before 
 her. 
 
 " To die for what we love, Oh, there is strength. 
 And power, and will in the true heart for this ! 
 It is to live without the vanished light 
 That strength is needed !" 
 And where can this strength be gathered but from the sym- 
 
 d d 2 
 
404 A LIFE-LONG STORY 
 
 pathy and love of Him who "drank of every brook by the way" 
 who was "a Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief ." 
 
 Earth holds no spot where the bird of sorrow may fold its 
 weary wing but on the human heart of the Great Sympa- 
 thiser ! 
 
DREAMS OF EARTH AND DREAMS OF HEAVEN. 405 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 §wams of 6artjj ai& $»» of fatten. 
 
 " Near thee, still near thee ! trust thy soul's deep dreaming, 
 Oh, love is not an earthly rose to die ! 
 E'en when I soar where fiery star* are beaming,^ 
 Thine image wanders with me through the sky." 
 
 Dead to all outer life's influences, Mary wanders in the intangible 
 paths of dream-land : she is back once more to her childhood's 
 home : gaily small feet patter over the daisy sward : blithely flute- 
 like voices float on the air, perfumed with odour from a thousand 
 flowers : eagerly dimpled hands are outstretched to pluck the 
 queenly rose or the blue-eyed violet, but as one by one their 
 fingers grasp them, their glories wither, and dead leaves strew the 
 bosom of earth. 
 
 Now, with the sudden, wild transition of dreams, she is once 
 more among her schoolmates ; long-forgotten faces start into 
 mimic life ; phantom voices, hushed years ago in the grave's un- 
 broken silence, make melody again ; forms, remotely fallen in life's 
 fierce battle, come around with brows untouched by care, eyes un- 
 dimmed by tears ; earnestly and mysteriously they whisper 
 together, as only school-girls can, busily planning a journey to 
 some wondrous land— u learnt all about in'the morning lesson"— 
 where there are no shadows, and they fondly dream of some 
 heart-equator in the geography of life ; hopefully and gleefully 
 away they start for the shadowless land! onward they press 
 towards the sun-bright distance ! Cherubs of hope, with rosy 
 limbs and more than earth-born beauty, beckon them on, and 
 
4061 A LIFE -LONG STORY. 
 
 from the radiant group flashes out the fair face of the dead 
 "beauty-bird," and the meek countenance of u May," in its set- 
 ting of golden curls, as she uttered her sweet child-prayer. 
 One after another, with outstretched arms and merry shouts, did 
 those joyous school-girls strive to clasp the cherub forms ! 
 " Surely they come from the shadowless land with those shadow- 
 less brows, and are sent to woo them there!" Oh ! how they 
 press on, and struggle, and wrestle, and yet seem powerless — 
 chained ! How, one alter another, they sink down, spent in the 
 race ! Yet onward they press with flashing eyes and glowing 
 cheeks, and as they each gain the goal, the long-followed forms 
 suddenly change into the brilliant butterflies, winging their way 
 with saucy speed from the spots so lately redolent with child-life. 
 Still onward the sleeper presses ! what, though the ranks be 
 thinning ! What, though the darlings that started in the race 
 strew the green sward of the past ! Onward ! onward ! other 
 faces and forms, in wild succession, fill up the gap ! Now, looking 
 out on the gazer, is the loving eye of the long mouldered mother- 
 face, beside the father's troubled and drooping brow ; behind, the 
 brother's, with specious look, telling not of the heart's hidden 
 poison, while in the rear are lingering friends, beaming their 
 cherished smiles of faithful love. Strangely memory's mysterious 
 and crowded kaleidescope rivets the yearning vision of the 
 watcher down its peopled depth, until she mingles with the 
 reviving and revolving throng, where tremblingly her hand 
 clutches the aerial robe of her mother, but she turns shudderingly 
 away as her palm chills with the touch of the Mower's scythe — 
 palsied at finding herself alone, before the gaunt shadow of all- 
 conquering Time ! 
 
 Another turn, and the mimic life-scenes transform. She is 
 buoyantly sailing over the sparkling waters, her hand passionately 
 clasping that of her idol at her side, smiling in recovered beauty : 
 gallant barks convoy them over the garrulous sea. The moon 
 silvers their liquid track, while their star sheds thereon a tremulous 
 glory. Through foam and spray, onward the voyagers speerj ! 
 Joy ! joy ! But in a moment the pageant mutates — curdling the 
 life-current at Mary's heart. She turns to shut out on her 
 husband's breast the spectres haunting round : one after another, 
 in ghostly array, they glide past, while the gay pinnaces dissolve 
 into sable coffins, with shrouds for their flying sails I In these 
 grim transports they course onward, leaving now a pursuing 
 
DREAMS OF EARTH AND DREAMS OF HEAVEN. 407 
 
 shadow on the moon-lit waste ! around their terrible track the 
 waters hiss and boil, and at the helm of each hideous vessel sits 
 the rigid face and motionless form of Courtenaye ! 
 
 With a cry of strange, deep ay;ony, the sleeper turns, struggling 
 convulsively : she opens her shrinking eye, then gently closes it 
 again, as a voice sweeter far than an iEolian murmur floats on 
 her ear, " when thou passest through the waters, I tcill be with thee /" 
 
 Like a wearied child, Mary sleeps again : the mould is shattered 
 wherein the recent fearful imagery was cast ; the intricate web is 
 unraveled, and spirit-fingers, catching the disentangled threads, 
 busily weave them anew. Lulled by seraphic music, and wafted 
 by the breath of flowers, the sleeper is floating in dreamy, 
 unutterable ecstacy on the bosom of a summer cloud : now 
 through illimitable space — anon careening upwards to pearly 
 gates sparkling afar, brighter than countless brilliants in the 
 flooding beams of summer's noon. Towards her rose and azure 
 couch, snowy doves and birds of paradise are winging their way, 
 the waving of whose silvery wings in the odorous air, stir cool 
 breezes that fan her with delicious softness : mortality's mean 
 robe seems to have fallen off, and she moves, arrayed with light. 
 As nearer and more near fly the beatific visitants, each one assumes 
 a radiant form, wearing the face of a loved and lost treasure- 
 now bright and beautiful as the morning stars that anthemed 
 creation's birth : yet nearer these glorious ones press, and passing 
 the blushing couch of their earthly guest, each casts at her feet an 
 immortal coronal, gathered from the gardens of the serpentless 
 Eden : then wheeling round, they joyously precede her, while the 
 infinite ether vibrates to the measured waving of their glorious and 
 gladsome wings. Among that shining host sent to convoy her to 
 her glory- home, there is one excelling his fellow peers of light in 
 his majestic beauty : in his right hand he carries their star — 
 dazzling bright — and with the other lifted, he points lovingly to 
 the pearly gates, and in him Mary recognizes the glorified spirit 
 of her husband. With a burst of rapturous joy, onward, toward 
 those celestial portals, she floats ! gathering meanwhile the floral 
 coronals ; but lo ! as one by one her fingers close over them, 
 they change and hang in emblazoned characters, intenser than 
 any created light ! 
 
 On one she reads : " These are they which came out of 
 
 GREAT TRIBULATION, AND HAVE W r ASHED THEIR ROBES, AND 
 MADE THEM WHITE IN THE BLOOD OF THE LaMB." 
 
403 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 On another: " Behold the tabernacle of God is with 
 
 MEN, AND HE WILL DWELL AMONG THEM, AND THEY SHALL 
 
 be His people, and God himself shall be with them, 
 
 AND BE THEIR GOD. 1 ' 
 
 On another : a And there shall be no more death, 
 
 NEITHER SORROW, NOR CRYING, NEITHER SHALL THERE BE 
 ANY MORE PAIN, FOR THE FORMER THINGS ARE PASSED 
 AWAY." 
 
 On another : "And the city had no need of the sin, 
 neither of the moon to shine in it, for the glory of 
 God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light 
 thereof ; and the gates of it shall not be shut at all 
 by day, for there shall be no night there." 
 
 Strains of triumphant music, pealing out from those wondrous 
 gates, now swept towards the enraptured dreamer ; but as she 
 drew thither, its melody was rilling her soul with ecstacy akin to 
 agony, and she made an effort to join in the glory-sounds, but 
 " none can learn that song, but they who are redeemed from the 
 earth." 
 
 With a deep sigh, Mary once more woke, while softly around 
 her floated the echo of that majestic chorus — still falling on 
 her heart like a spirit anthem, — Allelcta ! for the Lord 
 God Omnipotent reigneth !'' 
 
 " True and just are all Thy ways, thou King of Saints 1" 
 
^^^^^^■■i 
 
 ANOTHER LIFE -PHASE— GOVERNESS. 409 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 Jmotbcr f ife-f tee— (iiolraess. 
 
 u The World, the Flesh, and the Devil are formidahle personages, but 
 Lucre is'a match for them all ; the fiend of Money has the best end of the 
 staff." 
 
 We need not follow Mary step by step, turning over every page in 
 her after history ; nor sketch her with one child on her lap and 
 another standing at her side, looking — perhaps trying to look — 
 steadily on her duty ; nor depict her in contemplation of the 
 future, all stretched before her untried and untrodden — the 
 encouraging voice hushed in the grave's unbroken silence — the 
 true breast on which Vhe leant with such child-like confidence 
 pulseless — the ministering spirit fled away from earth ! 
 
 Does she ask who will now guide her barque over the storm- 
 fully surging life-sea ? who will put forth the love-nerved hand, 
 and take her spirit into some ark of rest, when its world-weary 
 wings beat languidly ? who will replace that withered gourd, 
 when the blast of adversity smites on her unsheltered head ? 
 
 No ! she can follow, where she cannot trace ; she has listened 
 to the words of the faithful Promiser, " I ilM never leave thee 
 nor forsake thee," and bound them round the rents of her 
 heart, making it wondrous strong. She knows the veil drawn 
 over the future is drawn in love, and that every step is mapped 
 out by Him who " seeth the end from the beginning," and who 
 has " loved her with an everlasting love." The road, indeed, 
 may be rough and thorny, and her feet may be torn : labour, 
 and conflict, and poverty may bow her head and heart, but can 
 
410 A LIFE-LONG STORY". 
 
 she not trace the crimson footprints of the Sinless One in the 
 way, and leads it not to eternal rest with Him ? 
 
 Can she not shelter under the overshadowing wing of love 
 when she raises her eye to the thorn-crowned brow of the " Man 
 of Sorrows ?" and can she not lay her head on his pierced side, 
 listening to the soul-strengthening promise, " as thy day, thy 
 strength shall be." 
 
 Can she not hear above the tempest, and the creaking of her 
 barque, " It is I, be not afraid f" 
 
 " Among the elegant forms of insect life there is a little 
 creature known to naturalists which can gather round it a 
 sufficiency of atmospheric air, and so clothed, it descends into the 
 bottom of the pool, and you may see the little creature moving 
 about dry, and at its ease, protected by its crystal vesture, though 
 the waters all around and above be stagnant and bitter." Just 
 so, enveloped by the love of God, Mary descended into the life of 
 change and trial that lay before her. The sudden and premature 
 death of her husband having left her not only the sole guardian, 
 but sole supporter ot herself and children. Now the softly-reared 
 favorite of prosperity becomes the strong - hearted, working 
 woman — full of energy and thought — thought that cares for all, 
 and for self last of all. 
 
 Like the mother of Cromwell, of whom Forster says, " she 
 possessed the glorious faculty of self-help, when other help 
 failed," our noble widow did not sit down with folded hands and 
 in a cloud of sighs sink into lackadaisical uselessness ; neither, 
 under the impulse of excitement, did she make great resolves, 
 vanishing into airy nothingness at the call of necessity — no! 
 God has given her energy and talents, and now she will employ 
 them in the maintenance of her precious ones. 
 
 In the most delicate manner did the congregation of their late 
 beloved pastor express a desire that the education of his only 
 boy should be confided to them ; but though the springs of 
 gratitude were profoundly opened by this generous offer, Man- 
 assured them she could not accept it, resolving, that while health 
 and power were her's, she would seek honorable employ, and not 
 allow his children to be dependant on any one but herself. 
 
 Noble resolve ! " Adversity is the crucible that brings out the 
 fine gold" — the escharotic eating away the proud flesh ! 
 
 True to her high-hearted resolve, Mary has recourse to that 
 honorable and important resource of the widow " reduced in 
 
ANOTHER LIFE-PHASE — GOVERNESS. 411 
 
 circumstances," or the " distressed gentlewoman, taking pupils 
 to educate with her own children." A friend in India entrusted 
 three little girls to her care, with an allowance large and liberal, 
 as it ever should be for the important charge ; and in the instruc- 
 tion of these with her own three (for Donald was scarcely less 
 dear than her own) she had no time to spare, save for her visits 
 to the poor, and knew no wants beyond her means of supplying 
 them, the conscientious discharge of her duties preventing too 
 frequent dwelling on the bright but transient past ; and oh ! how 
 valuable did she now find the lessons learnt from those death- 
 sealed lips. 
 
 But like others, on whom the blight of adversity has fallen, the 
 noble-hearted widow had to miss, if not to mourn, the April 
 smile of sunshine friends. Eyes, that had flashed out a sparkling 
 welcome and recognition, when the happy wife was leaning on 
 the arm of her princely husband, grew wondrous near-sighted 
 when she became "that unfortunate Mrs. Courtenaye !" 
 
 Friends, who had indulged in enthusiastic admiration at the 
 beauty of her boy, when led by the hand of his popular father, 
 passed its orphan face with first-class indifference and forgetful- 
 ness, though that beauty was all undimmed, and the child a child 
 still, while little May had to take her first lessons in neglect from 
 lips she loved. 
 
 Ah ! if aught can add poignancy to the withering blast of un- 
 deserved neglect, 'tis when dealt by the hand which once caressed ! 
 us, or freezes in the eye which once met ours with tenderness ; 
 and yet, how common the occurrence, even among "professing • 
 persons," as if paining others by cold, studied neglect, were 
 some high and holy sentiment inculcated in the doctrine, and 
 exhibited in the life of Him who "never broke a bruised reed" 
 
 Poor May had, in her "palmy days," been the " special pet" — 
 the "dear child" — the "sweet darling" of a friend of her 
 mother's, who, having no daughter of her own, taught the child 
 to call her " other mamma," often delightedly assuring her 
 acquaintances that " she never saw such a heavenly- minded little 
 creature!" that she "loved her as if she were her own," and 
 " only wished she had such a darling !" but shortly after the 
 reverse in Mary's circumstances began to be known, the "other 
 mamma " lent at first an unwilling, then a greedy ear, to the 
 whispers of her old enemy, the ubiquitous Miss Scandalson, who 
 commenced her insidious attack by persuading " other mamma" 
 
412 A LIFE-LONG STORT. 
 
 that all the little orphan's early developement of piety was 
 " hypocrisy, put on at the instigation of her mother, to serve 
 some artful design,* and that the mother had brought all her 
 misfortunes on herself, first by her " headstrong folly in marrying 
 that unprincipled fellow Courtenaye," and then, " by her abomi- 
 nable pride and extravagance !" 
 
 Yielding to the influence of this modern serpent, the " other 
 mamma" imbibed some of its poison, and one day when 
 full of child-affection and gushing trust, May plucked nearly all 
 the flowers she loved so dearly from her little garden, and care- 
 fully arranging, carried them to her " other mamma," and was 
 about to bound into her arms for the accustomed kiss, she was 
 kept at arm's length by the weak woman, who, after coldly 
 receiving the innocent's love-offering, told her she " could not 
 come in just then, she had company," and froze her ci-divant 
 "sweet darling" out of the hall, where she had stood talking to 
 her ! A few weeks subsequently she would pass the orphan with 
 a side-long glance of suspicion, without even a word of recognition. 
 So well had the serpent left its trail, that all " heavenly-minded- 
 ness" was gone from the " sweet darling" in the eyes of " other 
 mamma !'' All the love and trust she had won, and then so sin- 
 fully crushed, was reckoned "hypocrisy" and "finesse;" and in 
 the very house of God she would kneel beside poor May and 
 "say" the touching prayer, "We beseech thee to have mercy 
 upon fatherless children and widows, and all that are desolate and 
 oppressed," then rise and ignore the supplication by trampling 
 on the mournful trinity, in the person of poor little "fatherless" 
 May! 
 
 This was a hard lesson for the child, and one never obliterated 
 from her memory. Children are attentive observers of character, 
 and usually penetrate, with marvellous clearness, the springs of 
 action, reasoning and deducing therefrom with a perception 
 rarely credited by elder folks ; and even where they do not 
 reason and deduce, they i( feel morally." 
 
 " I respect the presence of a child," says the great Cecil. 
 
 " I cannot sin with my child's eye fixed on me," says another. 
 Why? 
 
 "Mamma," inquired Mav, sitting thoughtfully and sadly for 
 
 * A fact. 
 
ANOTHER LIFE-PHASE — GOVERNESS. 413 
 
 some time after her return from her painful visit, " is my other 
 mamma a good woman ?" 
 
 11 I hope so, my love ; but why do you ask ? " replied Mary. 
 
 The child made no answer — she looked puzzled, more thought- 
 ful, and sighed : never, however, from that day did the name of 
 " other mamma" pass her young lip, and her own mother did 
 not repeat the question. She felt it all, and bowed her meek 
 head ; 'twas only another drop in her bitter cup. " Could they not 
 spare her unoffending children ? " 
 
 u Take heed that ye despise not one of these little ones /" 
 
 "Whosoever shall give a cup oj cold ivater to one oj those little ones 
 shall in no wise lose his reward." 
 
 How many act as if the Master's words were whosoever shall 
 throw a cup of cold water over one of these little ones shall in no 
 wise lose his reward ! 
 
 There are some characters, of whom undoubtedly "other 
 mamma" was a sample, who have no stand-point of their own ; they 
 are weak or strong, consistent or inconsistent, just as another influ- 
 ences them : like camelions, deriving colour from that on which 
 they rest, or sea- shore sand receiving, but not retaining im- 
 pressions. Speaking of such developements of education, a very 
 clever girl and pupil of Mrs. Gregory's, who could almost " do 
 Euclid" in her sleep, remarked to the writer, " such characters 
 ought to have been taught mathematics to steady the moral 
 building." 
 
 May it not be worthy of consideration, whether this idea would 
 not bear enlargement and improvement, and the experiment tried 
 in all our educational depots, by introducing, and fostering a pro- 
 found study of Dr. Chalmer's " Spiritual Mathematics ;" his 
 " Two Magnitudes, the Littleness of Time and the Greatness of 
 Eternity ? " May not this " steady the moral building ? " and 
 instead of our present " system of averages" develope a grander 
 humanity than that evolved by the selfish, unelevating theology 
 of Paley, or the metaphysical materialism of the grand thought- 
 unshackler, Locke ? 
 
 Another word, en passent, to the genius of Discord: spare child- 
 hood ! 'Tis an existence in this fallen world nearest to angels 
 and heaven : stain not its fair footmarks with thy serpent trail, 
 and know that for all thy deeds " thou shall be called into 
 judgment !" 
 
414 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 • 
 
 But the cruel neglect shown towards her unoffending children 
 was not all the widow had to experience ; many of those " clouds 
 without water " darkening society — talking " great swelling 
 words " about the " dignity of labour," and ready to subscribe, 
 con amore, to the sentiment, — 
 
 " Exalted rank ! exalted rank ! 
 
 Away with euch an empty bubble, 
 Give him a spade to turn a bank, 
 And just a shilling for his trouble," — 
 
 who at any given moment could lash themselves into the fever- 
 stage of admiration at the " great amount of actual hard work 
 done by our thinking men," and were ever on tip-toe to impress 
 on all who would listen to them " what an excellent, honorable 
 thing self-dependence is ! how elevating ! " and so on, lifted their 
 nostrils, and looked a whole North Pole of contempt at her 
 because she was reduced to the necessity of working for the sup- 
 port of herself and fatherless children, and scorned to flinch from 
 it. One of the " foolish " fraternity — five feet ten of self-suffi- 
 ciency — as he industriously caressed a few stray hairs playing at 
 "hide-and-seek" on his upper lip, enquired, "what could 
 induce Lady Loveworth to call on that pooaA civechciiv who keeps 
 a school ? "* while a " sister of mercy," who had been one of 
 the hospitable doctor's most indefatigable dinner appreciators, 
 and a painfully enthusiastic admirer of his daughter, when she 
 presided at his table, doing its honours with the grace of a natu- 
 ral-born queen, thought nothing of passing her as the greatest 
 stranger, and speaking of her once " enchanting Miss Grenville" 
 as " that unfortunate widow Courtenaye ! " 
 
 Poor Mary ! She might have been a robust pensioner on 
 companies, or on governments, or eating the bread of sinful sloth, 
 and no one would have dreamed of discountenancing her ; and 
 yet, in her noble self-exertion, both then and in after years, when 
 her delicate fingers were worn to the bone, there was an element 
 in the drudgery elevating her immeasurably above those the 
 world calls heroes, or deifies as conquerors. 
 
 After the death of her husband the " unfortunate widow " 
 heard but once from her brother. With the cowardice of a 
 mean soul, quailing before the indignant glance of his fellow, 
 and shrinking from offering insult unless sheltered behind 
 
 * A fact. 
 
ANOTHER LIFE-PHASE — GOVERNESS. 415 
 
 the feebleness of his victim, he had spoken false, cruel words of 
 Courtenaye, ere the grave had closed over his honored clay ; 
 hence she resolved never again to risk a repetition of his brutality. 
 Perhaps, as much from inclination as from necessity, she had with- 
 drawn from all society, save that of her poorer neighbours and 
 friends, to whom the chastened widow of their well-remembered 
 friend and brother was not less dear than the M beautiful Miss 
 Grenville " had been— finding in the education of her darlings, 
 and the superintendance of her household arrangements, ample 
 and healthy employment. So well did she perform these duties, 
 and so superior did she appear to those who looked for some 
 outward evidence of her changed circumstances, that, wholly 
 disregarding truth, they trumped up the tale " that her brother 
 had at last awoke to a sense of right, and refunded part of the 
 wealth he had robbed her of: " others roundly declared that they 
 k ' knew for a fact" she had been greatly benefited by the death 
 of her husband's father, which took place about eighteen 
 months after that of his son, although there was scarce sufficient 
 to pay his debts, after the sale of his " costly effects, carriages, 
 and horses," as per catalogue ! 
 
 Many in the town of D would gladly have come to 
 
 the widow's help, had they for a moment fancied she needed 
 it ; but with the resolve of true nobility of heart, she 
 never allowed her friends to do ought for her that she had 
 power and strength to do for herself; neither, as they saw the 
 elegant widow with a child on either side, and the others gambol- 
 ing before her in summer glee in the fields or meadows of her 
 youth's home, did any imagine how many personal depriva- 
 tions she constantly and gallantly submitted to ; how many 
 hours of the still night, when the happy slumber in soft repose, 
 she sat making and repairing her children's and her own garments, 
 or doing the thousand and one things for which she had no time 
 in the day — frequently four hours' rest being all she could allow 
 herself. But none knew why the step of the " unfortunate Mrs. 
 Courtenaye" became slower and her cheek whiter, nor judged 
 of the silent struggles and many deprivations borne uncom- 
 plainingly by the once idolized, courted, followed child of wealth 
 and luxury. 
 
 There was one, indeed, who suspected, hut never breathed his 
 thoughts, and that was Fred Leslie. Mr*y was the only woman 
 who had ever woke a thrill of love in his noble heart, and though 
 
416 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 from the moment of his passion's birth he" felt its hopelessness, 
 he never ceased to worship her till she became the wife of Cour- 
 tenaye, whom, in his inmost soul, he acknowledged was more 
 worthy of her; and he left D immediately after her mar- 
 riage, only returning to it when his brother was mourning 
 the loss of the sweet spirit so early ^transplanted to a brighter 
 sphere. On his first visit to Mary, about two years after her 
 widowhood, all his early, long-subdued love burst forth into 
 an uncontrollable flame, brightened with hope ; never had he 
 thought her so entirely lovely; her beauty, spiritualized by 
 sorrow and resignation, appeared meeter for heaven than earth ; 
 while the tears that suffused her eyes, the quivering of her 
 lip, the sinking of her tone, told that Courtenaye spoke in them 
 all, and there — 
 
 * ( Was dearer dust in memory's land 
 Than in ore of rich Peru.'' 
 
 Hence, he dared not speak of the love that swayed his soul to and 
 fro in its recovered strength, like the willow waves in the summer 
 wind, as her sweet voice swept over its depths, waking up the 
 melody that never grows old ; but he wrote and told her all ; 
 his early love, his unbreathed hopes, his daily-nurtured affection, 
 his agony when hope for ever folded her wing on his heart. But 
 though deeply grateful and touched by the delicate consideration 
 he had shewn for her feelings, and full of sympathy towards 
 him, Mary gently but firmly refused his offer ; and, perhaps, no 
 pang, since her husband's death, had rent her heart so deeply as 
 the knowledge of this hopeless passion's existence in one for 
 whom she felt the warmest esteem and sisterly affection. But, 
 oh ! in that enclosure within her heart's sacred recess one image 
 alone could ever dwell : the very thought of dispossessing it 
 seemed sin ! 
 
 What could kindle a ray on that clay-cold altar, all bestrewed 
 with the ashes of a fire that once burnt so bright 1 What hand 
 could gather up the broken strings of that lone harp, and 
 re-tune them into harmony ! 
 
 No ! the heart knows no second spring ! 
 
 In reply to the decree which once again blighted his newly- 
 sprung hope, Fred wrote, " I will not distress you by bewailing 
 the resolve that will render life a dark dream ; but promise me, 
 if need be, you will make me useful, and ever regard me as the 
 
ANOTHER LIFE-PHASE — GOVERNESS. 417 
 
 teiiderest brother. You cannot refuse me this tie, though I may 
 never claim a dearer." 
 
 Often, in after life, when its conflicts sharpened, and its storms 
 o-athered, fain would Mary have turned for aid to this self- 
 constituted brother, but by "his declaration he had placed a bar 
 between them she could never overstep. 
 
 About three years after the loss of his wife. Henry Leslie died 
 on his voyage from Madeira, whither he had gone in quest of 
 health, but no change of clime or scene could cure his heart's 
 
 decline ; he 
 
 "Dragged at each remove a lengthening chain," 
 
 and breathed out his last sigh in the arms of his brother, who 
 with wrung heart saw the manly form dropped into that vast 
 ocean sepulchre of so many '* high hearts and brave," like the 
 teeming earth consecrated once and for ever by the footsteps of 
 the Son of God. 
 
 The child-love of May and Donald "grew with their growth," 
 and when, at ten years of age, he left the care of Mary, her little 
 heart was almost broken ; but when, at seventeen, he sailed for 
 India as a cadet, many weeks passed ere a smile sat on her sad 
 voung face. 
 
 After the departure of her charges for their adopted country, 
 Mary's circumstances straitened, and her health began to decline; 
 she therefore resolved to remove to the neighbourhood of London, 
 believing, as many have done, to their cost, that the great city 
 offered a wider field for self-exenion, better chances of obtaining 
 governess employ for Mary, and increased facilities for educating 
 her boy. It was not without a struggle and yearning pang that 
 she decided on leaving the spot endeared to her by so many 
 bright and blessed memories ; how they would come trooping and 
 clustering round her heart, contrasting her present with her past ! 
 How they would well up, and overflow, softening her whole soul and 
 threatening to render it all unmeet for the yet untrodden future ! 
 
 The selfish neglect of summer friends had long ceased to chafe 
 and grieve her chastened spirit; the " poor widow" had learnt 
 salutary lessons of herself and the world since she became a 
 " working woman ;" and oh! better far, she had learnt lessons of 
 trust in the Love that never wearies, and never chills, and never 
 dies ; and taking long draughts of this soul-strengthening element, 
 she could go calmly into the thorny path, in, but not of, the world, 
 
 E E 
 
418 - A LIFE-LONG STORT. 
 
 At the age of seventeen, May was a tall, elegant creature, 
 •with a pensive, almost sad expression of face. Whether as a child 
 she had involuntarily " learnt the trick of sorrow" by her con- 
 stant and loving companionship with one to whom it had become 
 (almost unknown to herself ) "second nature," or whether from 
 the touch of melancholy inhering in all deep hearts, still no one 
 — except a woman in search of a governess — could look on 
 that expressive face and not feel an almost unconscious interest for 
 her. 
 
 Arrived in the teeming city, the shrinking widow obtained 
 small but respectable lodgings in the house of our old acquaint- 
 ance of hyper-radical memory, Mrs. Carter, to whom she had 
 been particularly recommended by a cousin of that good lady's, 
 
 a 'tradesman in the town of D , who had frequently done 
 
 Mary kind service in business matters, when friends were "really 
 very sorry they could not oblige her," or, " it was not at all in 
 their way," or they were "not at home! " 
 
 Some time elapsed before May obtained an engagement, ex- 
 cellent as were her references, and moderate as was the sum she 
 named equivalent to her services. Day alter day the anxious 
 widow and child bent over the columns of every leading journal, 
 often turning away weary and sickened at the heartless, insult- 
 ing "Wanted," addressed to "Gentlewomen," and whose editors 
 would do infinite good if they exposed these stabbers-in-the-dark 
 to public contempt. 
 
 Poor May ! At one house where there was a superabundance 
 of the "foolish" fraternity, she was " too young." At another, 
 " never had been out before, which was decidedly against her." 
 At a third, her terms — the modest sum of thirty pounds per 
 annum, for instructing seven children under ten years of age, in 
 music, drawing, German, French, etc., etc., — was considered 
 "really out of all reason," by a woman paying two hundred per 
 annum at some modern Mrs. Gregory's for allowing her eldest 
 daughter to be made simply ridiculous by way of "finishing her 
 education." At a fourth, the party requiring the services of 
 " nothing but a gentlewoman ! never engaged a young person 
 who had any relations in London, as they were apt to pay visits 
 
 that unsettled their minds from their duties ! ! " A fifth 
 
 but further detail is too painful, and similar instances too nume- 
 rous to recount. At length, after a load of anxiety and many 
 weeks of " hope deferred," making even the young heart sick. 
 
-*• 
 
 ANOTHER LIFE-PHASE — GOVERNESS. 419 
 
 May obtained a situation where she was looked upon as a sort of 
 zoophyte, partaking the nature of parlour and scullery ; ail her ' 
 dear hopes of being able " to pay something " towards the cost 
 of educating her brother, and " preventing darling mother from 
 working so hard," vanished, for the very utmost that a lady — re- 
 siding in a fashionable Square very near to Virtue Lane, and keep- 
 ing five or six pampered, lazy, insolent lackeys — could be induced 
 to " pay the young person " for the toil of educating six spoilt 
 children, was twelve pounds per annum! ! a sum either of her 
 afore-named satellites would have scarce thought their deserts for 
 a month's pay. But, trifling as was the sum unblushinglv 
 offered, and wholly inadequate as it was to the amount of labour 
 wrung out of the poor girl, she might have borne it, for she had 
 a brave heart, if only for the sake of wiping out the disgrace 
 seemins to attach to" never having been out before," and to fain 
 a title to something better; but no amount of energy, however, 
 vitalized, or physique, however robust, could bear up against the 
 incessant mental fret-work, and the wear and tear of bodily 
 powers, in the laborious life out-hedging her from that beautiful 
 trinity of words, sympathy, hope, encouragement, these being 
 considered altogether out of place towards the " young person" 
 to whom their fashionable mother entrusted the solemn office of 
 moulding the characters of her children. Nor was this all. So 
 far did this " mother" forget herself that she gave orders 
 instructing the young person to leave her pupils at the principal 
 entrance, and go in at the servant's door,* and one day, after ten 
 hours' toil, when the lonely governess sat down to her solitarv 
 meal, so completely had the domestics caught and aped the tone 
 of their employers, that the food supplying her table was fre- 
 quently so bad she could not eat it, and she was obliged to 
 content herself with dry bread, which being ob served bv one of 
 her pupils, a high-spirited boy, who dashed into the room, he 
 hastily asked, — 
 
 a Miss Courtenaye, why do you not eat some butter on your 
 bread?" and on her declining to tell him "why," he gave a 
 shrewd guess (probably the fact was nothing new), and catching 
 up the highly odoriferous concrete which passed for butter, he 
 darted down stairs into the drawing-room, exclaiming, in a tone 
 
 * A fact, communicated to the writer by a lady visiting at the family 
 country seat, who was eye-witness of the indignity. 
 
 E E 2 
 
420 A LIFE-LONG STORF. 
 
 of generous indignation, that should hare covered the face of his 
 lady-mother with blushes, — 
 
 " Papa ! only see what stuff they have sent Miss Courtenaye ; 
 she can't eat it, and has had nothing but bread for her tea !"* 
 
 At the end of four months the brave- hearted May was taken 
 from the bed on which overtaxed energies and want of proper 
 nourishment had laid her, and, in one of the dirty cabs that dis- 
 grace the streets of London, despatched to her humble home f 
 once more to lay on her mother's loving breast ; and oh ! what a 
 bitter aggravation of her own sorrows and sufferings it was to 
 look on the wan face and attenuated form of her precious child, 
 though not one word of all she had endured ever passed the lips 
 of the long-suffering girl ! 
 
 Yes, it was another bitter ingredient in her mournful cup. His 
 child, whose early griefs had been so gently soothed — whose 
 child-tears had been so lovingly wiped away — whose first coming 
 had been greeted with so much rapture, to meet such wolfish 
 treatment on her entrance into the mocking, lying world ! and yet 
 it is but a life-phase acting every day and hour in this Christian 
 land, teeming with poor gentlewomen, and rich vulgar ladies. 
 
 " And if, as some believe, a tie 
 
 With those of mortal mould and birth 
 Connects in glorious sympathy 
 
 The spirits that have passed from earth,'' 
 
 (but that they see what is hid from mortal vision — the bright and 
 blessed end of the thorny road), oh ! what a pitying gaze must 
 the spirit of many a Courtenaye — many a sainted mother — cast 
 on the objects of their fondest solicitude, meekly stemming a tide 
 of cold, bitter, selfish inhumanity, wherein woman, " sent on an 
 angel's mission," plays a part at which seraphs would weep " if 
 tears were known in heaven." 
 
 For a short time after poor May's experience of the treatment 
 
 • A fact, received from the lips of the gentlewoman who was subjected 
 to the foul treatment. 
 
 t The culminating pcin : of inhumanity towards this trampled-on class, 
 had not been attained at the time of May's governess experience ; with all 
 the barbarities practised towards them, no woman in Christian England 
 had then labeled a dying and speechless young creature, and packed her 
 off to travel ' by land and by wa'er" alone to her foreign home ! ! ! 
 
 Shame! shame to the mother who perpetrated this revolting act at the 
 "advice of her family physician!" Shame! shame to 4 the "family 
 physician'' who advised it ! 
 
ANOTHER LIFE-PHASE GOVERNESS. 421 
 
 awarded to their dependants by these " sisters of mercy," 
 governess employers, she remained at home helping her mother 
 embroider ; but as their united exertions were insufficient to 
 maintain them, as soon as the former grew stronger she deter- 
 mined on seeking another situation, and again entered the rough 
 road. It wouldfill many pages to record the coarse treatment, 
 from coarser domestics and coarsest mistresses, she received ; 
 her weary walks in sun and dust, cold and wet, ending in being 
 kept two 'or three hours standing in a hall or passage ; the Titan 
 capabilities required, and the minnow remuneration offered ! 
 One woman, after informing the weary creature that the " rudi- 
 ments of Greek were ab£)lutely indispensable," upon May's 
 pleading ignorance of the same, generously offered her seven 
 pounds per annum for her services, in taking the entire charge of 
 four young gentlemen under nine years of age ! " 
 
 When "at school," in the smallest sense of the word, we re- 
 member learning that gold is capable of such extension that a 
 sovereign would draw out into nine and a-half miles of wire. 
 What an instructive and astonishing analysis it would present, if 
 the generality of governess-seekers would submit that compres- 
 sible, and marvellously elastic thing called conscience, to chemical 
 experimentalizing ! 
 
 When are the women of Christian England to wipe this stigma 
 off their characters ? When shall it be said of them that they 
 have ceased to oppress the fatherless and those " who have no 
 helper?" How long will they sigh and groan sentimentally over 
 the neglected heathen, rushing in a state of rabid enthusiasm to 
 every meeting, far and near, where their ears will be tickled 
 or their presence noticed ; and with the appearance in their 
 conduct of that catholic, comprehensive charity which is " kind, 
 tender-hearted, .loytng one another," treat the orphan and 
 desolate in a way so inhuman that a Hindoo mother, however 
 "benighted," would be ashamed of? 
 
 " These ought ye to do, and not to leave the other undone!" 
 
 But our May's governess experience was soon to cease, the 
 increasing weakness of her idolized mother demanding her care ; 
 the struggling widow, whose energies had so long been strained 
 and stretched to their utmost, and had kept their tension with 
 extraordinary power, seemed at length to relax — the body could 
 not keep pace with the wear and tear within — still the " spirit 
 ivas willing, though the flesh was weak." The young governess 
 
422 A LIFE-LONG STOET. 
 
 therefore determined to make one more effort to remain at home, 
 by obtaining work more quickly and easily done than the eye- 
 trying embroidery, which, through the ever-ready kindness of 
 Mrs. Carter, she had no difficulty in procuring ; but after a 
 month's hard toil this was abandoned, the united earnings of 
 mother and child being inadequate to the supply of their neces- 
 sities, though they were few, and scantily gratified. 
 
 Going one day with a sick and heavy heart towards a Square 
 where a lady resided who had advertised for a " gentlewoman to 
 assist her in educating her little girls," May met a young girl 
 who, with herself, a few weeks previous, had been kept standing two 
 hours in the hall of a person wanting a governess, and recognising 
 each other, they entered into conversation, when the latter strongly 
 urged her to abandon the " dreadful life of governess," and 
 endeavour to procure a situation as saleswoman in the cloak or 
 shawl department at a ^Vest End establishment. 
 
 " I have been filling one for the last four months," the girl 
 added, " and while it is sometimes weary work enough, when 
 ladies will have two or three dozen garments tried on and fitted 
 that they don't want, and never buy, yet, as we close early, and 
 Mr. Feeling is a kind-hearted man, and treats us with thought 
 and consideration, I am a great deal happier and more comfort- 
 able than I ever was in any of my situations as governess ; when 
 our work is done, it is done, and we have no care upon our minds 
 about our pupils not getting on, or anxiety lest we should not 
 give satisfaction, and meet the hard faces of our employers, telling 
 us our ' further services will be dispensed with, as we are not 
 exactly the young persons we were taken for.' Now I always 
 have two or three hours in the evening to myself; sometimes I 
 walk out with my father, who is blind from a stroke of the sun, 
 when he was at sea in the navy ; sometimes I read to him, or 
 help my dear mother work, or teach my two little sisters writing ; 
 and it is so pleasant for us to be together a little while in 
 the day." 
 
 May listened, with a beating heart. At first she naturally 
 shrunk from the idea of seeing so many strangers, and em- 
 barking in a life so new and different from what she had ever 
 expected ; yet as she lister ed to her friend's cheering descriptions 
 of her "nice evenings," but above all, " their being together" — 
 when she thought of the white, wasting face dearer to her than 
 life itself— she at once resolved on that entire abnegation of self 
 
ANOTHER LIFE-PHASE GOVERNESS. 423 
 
 and of all selfish considerations, existing only in lofty hearts, 
 promising to reflect on the advice and consult her mother, while 
 her new friend undertook to make enquiries, and let her know if 
 anything offered likely to suit. When they parted May con- 
 continued her way to the advertisement, where she learnt, to 
 her astonishment, that "no salary would be given for the services 
 required, as a comfortable home and pleasant society were 
 considered amply equivalent ! !" 
 
 On her return to her anxious mother, May at once, and in a 
 cheerful tone, explained her resolve to seek employ, as suggested. 
 
 " You see, darling mother," said the brave girl, " I shall be 
 able to spend my evenings with you and brother, and it will be 
 much better than when I was at Lady Stone's or Mrs. Flint's. 
 Then we only met in short, hurried visits ; now I shall be with 
 you every day for a few hours, and all the Sabbath," she added, in 
 a softened voice, bending her graceful head down to her mother's 
 pale face resting on a pillow, and covering it with kisses. 
 
 The mother made no reply ; she flung her wasted arms around 
 her high-souled child, and strained her passionately to her 
 bosom ; then escaped to her bedroom, where her tears could 
 flow unrestrained by the appealing looks of her children. 
 She drew from its restiug-pface, on her heart, the miniature 
 of her husband, and printed sad kisses on the unconscious 
 lips which the hand of Genius had strangely taught to smile. 
 How often, in the spirit of the plaintive bard, had she sighed — 
 
 u Oh had those lifs but language ! 'ime has past 
 But roughly with me siuce I heard them last." 
 
 How often had she replaced the treasure, and with meek eye, 
 and on bended knee, sought the comfort and counsel not to be 
 found in " things made with hands." 
 
 Ah ! there are various kinds of idolatry in the world, beside 
 that of wood and stone, with its debasing worship — that of gold, 
 with hollow eye and skeleton visage — that of beauty, with 
 thrilling pulse and raptured gaze — that of intellect, with spirit- 
 piercing eye, and creative brow — there is the idolatry of memory, 
 a memory that never grows old, and never dies. May be, even 
 unknown to herself, that deeplv-tried widow had fallen into this 
 subtle sin. We are but feeble clav, at best ! May be, as shadows 
 gather over her path, she feels there is still a " need be" for the 
 rod. We know not : but on the occasion just recorded, long and 
 
424 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 solemnly was her head bowed, while her heart's utterance 
 was, — 
 
 " We would see Jesus ! for time's hand hath rested, 
 "With its dark touch, upon both heart and brow, 
 And though our souls have many a billow breasted, 
 Others are rising in the distance now." 
 
 She could not reconcile herself to her noble child's proposal ; 
 not because she cherished any false feelings or lingerings of 
 pride — imagining the suggested employ lowering. She was far 
 bevond such paltry notions, regarding all honorable employ- 
 ment as elevating the employed, and the latter dignifying the 
 former. Had she felt strong enough, she would not for one 
 moment have hesitated to engage in the proposed occupation, for 
 the benefit of her children ; but for May, so young, so cap- 
 tivating, so inexperienced in the world's guile ! what if that pure 
 mind should become contaminated by the many counter-in- 
 fluences and material objects that would necessarily engage her 
 thoughts, and engross her time ! What if the early lessons, 
 learnt under the shadow of the Cross, should be forgotten — 
 banished by the life-lessons appealing so intensely to the senses, 
 and his child should not " endure to the end?' 1 
 
 The thought was torture ! Perhaps there were moments when, 
 suffering under depression, bodily weakness, and loneliness, the 
 wing of Faith hovered too near the earth, unable to shake off its 
 weight and soar into the cloudless regions beyond all its darkling 
 shadows — and this might have been one of them ; brief, however, 
 was the presence of the cloud. She recollects the heart-quieting 
 promise, "they shall never perish, nor shall any man 
 pluck them out of my hand," and rejoices in the reflection 
 that her May had long since, in its first freshness and bloom, 
 given her young heart to God, and will He not " gather the lambs 
 in his arms, and stay the rough wind ? " 
 
 Long the care-worn widow mused — should she write to Fred 
 Leslie, and interest him on her child's behalf, asking his advice? 
 No ! she shrunk from the thought : many years had rolled away, 
 and she had never written — could she now ? — the thought was 
 abandoned, and for a moment the image of her brother rose up 
 before her— should she address him? The summoned troops 
 of memory shouted "Never, never !" Did she now doubt the 
 wisdom of having withdrawn from former friends and relin- 
 quished society ? Probably ; yet had not many unfeelingly 
 
ANOTHER LIFE-PHASE — GOVERNESS. 425 
 
 forsaken her ? Had not her sensitive spirit often bled at the 
 averted glance, the withering neglect shewn to her innocent 
 children ? Thus might she not have schooled her naturally 
 clind-ns: heart into a total retirement from friends who might and 
 would have proved true, shrinking, lest she should have to say of 
 them, " will you also go away t " 
 
 Poor, lonesome one ! Prop after prop had been removed, and 
 afresh she leans the full burden of her heart on that Strength which 
 no weakness alloys, that Sympathy which no selfishness taints. 
 Reft of all creature-stay, afresh she flies to the shelter of Redeem- 
 ing Love, hiding herself "under the shadow of its wing, "till 
 earth's calamities are overpast." Shall she repine at her lonely 
 road, when He trod the loneliest and the thorniest ! 
 
 Shall she sigh for the voice of earthly friends when " they all 
 forsook Him and fled! " 
 
 Nay ! this last storm drives her closer to His wounded side. 
 She perceives the discipline was needed, and calmly reposing on 
 the assurance that "all shall work for good," as the sick babe 
 lays its languid head on its mother's breast, and takes the 
 draught, though bitter, to its taste, so she now trusts where she 
 cannot trace, and the crv of her heart is, oh ! thou lovinsr, all- 
 atoning Lamb ! 
 
 u Abide with me from morn till eve, 
 F"r without Thee I cannot live ; 
 Abide with me, when nun: is nigh, 
 For without Thee, I dare not die." 
 
426 
 
 A LIFE-LC»~G STOBY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 Sfasfe ani Reeling. 
 
 " The writer, who is too studious of novelty, and abhors the drudgery of 
 ' Line upon Line, Precept upon Precept,' will fail to make any lasting 
 impression on the minds of his readers." — The Times. 
 
 Maby's last visit to the Bock of Strength, prepared her for 
 May's "good news," as she playfully termed it ; when about a 
 week after the meeting with her young acquaintance, recorded 
 in the last phase, she iuformed her mother she had called on 
 Mr. Gains and met with great kindness ; and that if her 
 reference to /the lady, whose children she had instructed, was 
 satisfactory, an immediate engagement, &t a salary much higher 
 than any she had even heard of in her governess experience, 
 would be the result. 
 
 ""Won't it be pleasant, my own mother?" asked the ex- 
 ulting May, as her spirit once more rose on the eagle wing of 
 hope. 
 
 What comforts would she now be able to procure for that dear, 
 rapidly-weakening mother ! How much work she would be 
 able to do in the nice long evenings, and thereby save her 
 failing strength ! What a pretty little sum, out of her handsome 
 salary, she should be able to reserve for her darling brother's 
 schooling ! What happy Sabbaths they should have together ! 
 Oh, the future! it was like "apples of gold in pictures of 
 silver!" 
 
 Dream on, young trusting one ! Dream of Joy unfurling her 
 rainbow banner over your humble home ; strength once more 
 returning to the tottering mother-form ; health again mantling 
 on the thoughtful brother-brow. Dream on ! thine are holy 
 dreams ; such as augels have, when Hying earthward on their 
 
TASTE a:s~d eeelixg. 427 
 
 mercy missions. True woman's dream, caring for all, and for 
 self last and least. 
 
 The elegant figure and graceful manners of May at once 
 interested, and decided, the principal of a large and respectable 
 firm at the " West End," on an engagement ; these requisites 
 so rare, yet indispensable in the young women who minister in 
 these temples of fashion, being a ready passport into them ; 
 as every lady customer, however angular her own proportions 
 may be, or unlike the agile creature who, with easy grace and 
 studied effect, throws the tempting attire over her well-falling 
 shoulders, deludes herself into the belief that its folds will 
 sweep as "classically," undulate as "gracefully," or fit as 
 "scientifically" on her; hence many a costly article finds 
 a ready transfer to the corner of some capacious carriage 
 from the form of the elegant sales-woman, which had otherwise 
 remained a " drug in the market ;" the purchaser believing 
 herself enamoured of the "style" of the garment, when that 
 depended solely on the wearer. 
 
 "Well satisfied with May's character, an agreement was duly 
 signed by employer and employed ; and the following day she 
 was to commence her novitiate under an experienced "hand," 
 whose task it was to initiate her into sundry lesser mysteries 
 connected with these temples of fashion ; and as her ministra- 
 tions were to consist in the duty of sales-woman in the " cloak 
 department," very little instruction was requisite. On her 
 first day's experience, she found her work immeasurably 
 light, with all its foot-weariness and patience-tryings, in com- 
 parison to her former drudgery in combating the various an- 
 tagonistic characters of Lady Stone's unruly children ; but her 
 pain and surprise may be more easily understood than pour- 
 trayed, when, tired and passionately yearning to fly to the side of 
 the dear one whom she had left in the morning weaker than ever, 
 she learnt that she was "not in an Early Closing establishment" 
 — a circumstance she had never thought of ascertaining — con- 
 cluding that because her new friend had the blessed privilege 
 of spending her evening hours in ministering to the comforts 
 of her blind father, she would have the same ; and it was with 
 a sinking heart and bitter pang she was obliged to send 
 away her little protector-brother alone. Scarcely less acutely 
 was the disappointment felt by the watching mother, though 
 
428 A LIFE-LONG STORT 
 
 she had learnt to kiss the rod long since, and there was a 
 tempering of its sharpness to her, seldom experienced by the 
 young spirit, eager in pursuit, joyous in anticipation. How 
 tenderly did she sooth the disappointment, and wipe away the 
 tears from her fair but troubled face, as May sobbed out : — 
 
 " Oh, darling mother ! I had pictured such nice times in the 
 evenings with you and brother after my day's work, and now 
 it will be almost as bad as being awav from you altogether !" 
 
 "We shall have our Sabbaths together, my darling," softly 
 whispered Mary. 
 
 Ah ! ye who are privileged to call that superlative gift, Time, 
 your own, who are permitted to watch, in unbroken continuance, 
 by the couch of the sick and sinking one thereon, whose love 
 sheds the last lingering ray of sunshine on your earthly pil- 
 grimage ; — ye, who with eager hands and abounding luxuries 
 can minister to the cravings of the dear fading form, whose 
 setting sun will leave the world in darkness for you : 'tis not 
 for ye to realize the agony of May, as morning after morning 
 she tore herself from her dying mother's side, or the hot pang 
 that pierced her heart, when she thought of the scanty fare, 
 and the untempting nourishm'ent supplying that precious 
 mother's wants, amid the gradual failing of her strength. Oh, 
 no ! ye can know nothing of these heart- wringing, life-shortening 
 trials ; but alas ! alas ! myriads do, and they are gentle, loving, 
 feeling as yourself. "Will ye not sympathize with them, and help 
 them '! 
 
 Time rolled on, marked only by the increasing weakness 
 and necessities of the gallant-hearted mother and the anxiety 
 of May. Till within a day of her death, the former had 
 cheerfully and incessantly plied her needle ; the extreme fine- 
 ness of her work ensuring employment at trifling — very trifling 
 remuneration ; but the cost to her strength was terrible ! 
 Day after day growing shadowy and more shadowy, pillowed 
 up in her bed, her transparent fingers wrought, till at length 
 they dropped powerless, and she felt that ere long she would 
 rest in the narrow house where there is " neither work nor 
 device.''' Often did the clock strike ten before the waning 
 watcher caught from the stair the mounting step, bringing or 
 carrying with it, all the music left for her this side the grave, 
 and her anxious eye rested on her ministering angel, May. 
 
TASTE AND FEELING. 429 
 
 Oh ! how the lagging moments lengthened, as she sat alone in 
 her helplessness and suffering, with strained ear listening for 
 her return ! As the cords of life loosened, they seemed to 
 twine and knit with increasing closeness round tne objects of 
 her love ; and though since the hour that her heart's one love 
 was buried in her husband's grave, every setting sun brought 
 to its mournful depths the blessed thought, " one day nearer 
 our eternal union," she still had links to earth that fain had 
 kept her living/' brokenly on." "Nevertheless, not my will, but Thine 
 be done" prefaced every prayer from those meek and suffering 
 lips. 
 
 Shall we wonder if, at times — bowed down under intense 
 depression, bodily agony, and yearning watching, this deeply- 
 chastened creature found it hard to keep Faith's wing poised 
 in regions beyond the clouds and mists of earth ? But long 
 watching and pain will sometimes overbear the spirit that had 
 met undauntedly the martyr's doom. The eagle eye un- 
 quailing, the lofty heart unshaken. 5 Tis ever easier to do 
 than to suffer. 
 
 At a large meeting, a few months since, the writer was struck 
 at hearing one of those noble band of heroes who go forth with 
 their lives in their hands to proclaim the " only name under 
 heaven whereby man can be saved," — thank God for having 
 
 given him what ? a burning love for the salvation of souls ? 
 
 A frame indurated and braced up for the hardships and de- 
 privations inseparable from his Master's work ? jNo ! for 
 having given him a missionary wife ! Not soon forgotten 
 will be the memory of the burst of long-continued and deep- 
 meaning applause following this novel thanksgiving. 
 
 " A fact is a possibility ;" that which has been may be. 
 "What an illustrious band of lady missionaries among us may 
 be organized by love, and trained by sympathy, if the will 
 were as ready as the way is open ! How many hours that now 
 drag wearily or hang heavily on our hands, to "kill" which 
 many rush into unhealthy pleasures, and 
 
 " Sicken by the very means of health," 
 
 may be devoted to the GrOD-work of wiping away all tears 
 from all faces ! Eow many corroding cares may be dissipated, 
 burdens lightened, hopes quickened, weary hours shortened, 
 
430 A LIFE-LOFG STOET. 
 
 sympathies exchanged, last moments cheered among those 
 who, in idiomatic phraseology, " have seen better days !'' Better 
 days of a mother's sweet solicitude, a father's ready smile ; 
 better days of a husband's watchful love, of children's bird-like 
 voices clustering round that earth's one sanctuary, home ; 
 better days of bright-eyed plenty, and joy-eyed hope, and 
 quiet-eyed peace, all, all gone ! and bitter takes the place of 
 better days. 
 
 Oh ! that the children of prosperity would but think of 
 these things, and be up and doing ! Never did our oountry 
 groan more terribly with those who have seen better days 
 than now. The fierce speculation-mania that has deluged 
 society — whole families sudddenly brought to ruin, to-day in 
 affluence, with legions of friends, to-morrow in poverty and 
 deserted ; the change falling most crushingly on those least 
 equal to bear it, those least responsible and reprehensible, the 
 wives and children of the ruined speculator or gamester, for 
 the terms are synonomous, a conventional distinction without a 
 difference. 
 
 "What a noble band of lady missionaries, we repeat, may 
 now be organised ! what mountains of woe may be mitigated ! 
 what a bright record the pages of Eternity would unfold oF 
 souls saved through sorrowing hearts, if the women of England 
 would but re-kindle its smouldering embers, and keep brightly 
 burning on the altar of their hearts the vestal fire of Sym- 
 pathy, which, extinguished, imperils the safety of the common- 
 weal. But. alas ! that any should be content to fritter away 
 in soul-and-body-debasing pleasures those precious hours 
 whereon hinges eternal joy or woe, while so much work for 
 G-od is waiting to be done — hours that worlds piled upon 
 worlds shall not redeem, when life's sands run low, its solemn 
 work undone, Death's great account all unprepared. 
 
 Come, then, ye whose moments are so beclouded with 
 ennui, that, as a relief, ye rush into the eddy of Fashion's vor- 
 tex, cheered on by folly and frivolity ; — ye, who for the sole 
 purpose of "killing time," devastate at once an entire esta- 
 blishment, and the strength and patience of foot- weary men 
 and women, for articles you never intend to purchase and do 
 not require ; — ye who roll languidly and listlessly round and 
 round the park's in your luxurious equipages, existing only in 
 anticipation of the dinner, the ball, or the opera ;— ye who 
 
■^ 
 
 TASTE A>"D FEELI>"G. 431 
 
 tawn wearily over those passages of a book administering not 
 to a false sentimentality, that keeps not up a feverish excite- 
 ment, trembling at sympathy-pitch over fictitious woes, be- 
 think ve, what rich repayment for those wasted sensibilities 
 mav be ensured in the gratitude lighting up the fast glazing 
 eve, the fervent " Grod bless you!" of the sinking voice, if 
 all these heaven-given sympathies were employed in their legi- 
 timate sphere ! 
 
 But should the inquiry be needful, "what is that sphere r 
 who is my neighbour ; 
 
 Let the daily police report answer ; or the following facts 
 may suggest a reply : — 
 
 •■ According to the statistical return made to Government, 
 among the sempstresses and shopwomen in London alone, 
 thirty thousand were living in starvation ; many of these 
 miserable outcasts are from the poor dressmakers and shirt- 
 makers, the be<t hands among the latter earning sixpence a 
 day, working from early morn to midnight ; and others three- 
 pence and twopence.'' 
 
 •• THIETY THOUSAND dregs and shirtmaJcers living in 
 starvation in London alone ! .' ! 
 
 Think of this, dear reader! "Women earning sixpence — 
 threepence — and, twopence a day, working eighteen hours, and 
 food at war and famine prices !* 
 
 ' ; From authentic documents, there are computed to be in 
 Christian England three hundred and sixty thousand women 
 who live by sin, as a trade ! : ' 
 
 THREE HUNDRED AXD SIXTY THOUSAND ! ! 
 
 Think of this, painfully-virtuous woman, who, with the simu- 
 lation of a thrice-winnowed purity pass by the shrinking, 
 ashamed, crushed victim of oppression and tyranny, and hold 
 out the right-hand of welcome to the lordly and genteel de- 
 stroyer glorying in his shame ! 
 
 Bethink ye, ye who excuse "the stronger," while ye con- 
 demn and cast out the i: weaker," what shall the end of these 
 things be ? Think ye the sin of both will be ever thus un- 
 equally visited ? Things cannot, they will not go on much 
 longer in this way ; the fearful, frightful, growing demoralisa- 
 
 * When this was written, in January. 1857, all kinds of food — bread 
 especially — was at a fearfully high price. 
 
432 A LIFE-LO>~G STORY. 
 
 tion of our own sex — the blame to be traced directly home to 
 our doors, in this great and crying sin, call loudly and 
 unmistakeably upon us to be up and doing — up and doing 
 NOW. " For ice know not what a day may bring forth ;" am. 
 if (as affirmed) the intellect of woman is inferior, and she 
 never opens a vista in the regions of thought, let it be " seer 
 and read of all" that she can follow those illustrious women o1 
 our times who have opened vistas in the empire of Sympathy 
 that will brighten and widen till they flood the earth witl 
 glory ! glory ! 
 
 Once more: and ye Christian women of England — baptized 
 ''children of Grod and heirs of the kingdom of heaven,"' whc 
 rush to feast your sensibilities on professional death-scenes 
 caricaturing the closing strife with the grisly Foe, burlesquing 
 that 
 
 Solemn" act to Die; — 
 ye who, be-jewelled and be-crinolined, whirl away panting tc 
 gratify your tastes and feelings on artistic mockeries of 
 
 " The last sad weariness, the final strife, — " 
 why go to a theatre to learn from a copy the great lesson 
 how to die, when the original is at your doors ? True taste 
 never prefers the former to the latter ? 
 
 Ye who have never seen a real death-bed, seek out the closing 
 scene of one from amid the THKEE HUXDKED AXI 
 SIXTY THOUSAND unfortunates ; — may be in some lonel) 
 garret, on a whisp of straw, her sin-wasted frame quivers in 
 mortal agony ; may be, too, " more sinned against than sin- 
 ning," around her path, in youth, 
 
 " No mother's prayer, no father's smiles were shed," 
 
 Ah, gaze on ! gaze on ! This " final strife" will teach mar- 
 vellously quicker and better than any simulation. Ay, and i1 
 will do more — it will bring home to conscience the truth that 
 the theatre is no "training school for immortality." Life's 
 one lesson — how to die — how to die peacefully, because par 
 doned — can never be learnt there. That lesson can only be 
 studied at the foot of Calvary ; and " what concord has Ugh 
 with darkness T* 1 
 
 TO DIE ! Why not in the theatre ? " Such things have 
 been." Playing at death has become death in reality. In 
 the box the 'breath of the grim Tyrant has passed over the 
 
*^*mrmmmmmmammmmm*~~*^^m* 
 
 TASTE AHD r£ELI>~G. 433 
 
 heart's current, and it lias frozen. Terrible warning ! How has it 
 been regarded ? 
 
 " But it has been observed, that, ' Death cannot come un- 
 timely to those who are fit to die.' " 
 
 Fit to die ?— but what if not fit— not washed in the " Fountain 
 opened for sin and uncleanness !" 
 
 " In that dread moment, how the frantic soul 
 Eaves round the walls of her clay tenement ! 
 Turn- to each avenue and shrieks for help ! 
 But shrieks in vain. How wistfully she looks 
 On all she's leaving, now no longer hers. 
 A little longer, yet a little longer, 
 O might she stay to wash away her crimes, 
 And fit her for her passage. Mournful sight ! 
 Her very eye weeps blood, and every groan 
 She heaves is big with horror. But the Foe, 
 Like a staunch murderer, steady to his purpose, 
 Pursues her close through every lane of fife, 
 2ST or misses once the track, but presses on, 
 Till forced at last to the tremendous verge. 
 At once she sinks — sinks into the bottomless 
 And gloomy gulf of everlasting Death ! '' 
 
 Xow that to the delight of a Christian audience, the sanc- 
 tity of death has been invaded ! now that " doing death"' is 
 found as profitable as doing robberies, doing imps, doing seduc- 
 tion and other devilries ; as a sequence, the next speculation 
 will be, doing The Judgment, and we shall have that 
 " Day for which all other days were made" 
 
 caricatured to the murmurs of voluptuous music, and ex- 
 citing " bravo' s ! " "We shall have eloquent descriptions of the 
 artist's surpassing skill and taste in delineating the scenery, or 
 getting up an " effect" when the sham " thitsdeelngs and 
 lightnings, ast) voices peoceed out oe the theone oe 
 Him feom whose eace Eaeth and Heaven shall elee 
 away," burst on the entranced audience ! We shall have a heart- 
 melting account of the sighs and groans, " not a dry eye in the 
 house" — or the uproarious applause that followed the " hit" of 
 some successful actor, who can best torture or tutor his coun- 
 tenance into the expression imagined to gather on the face of 
 the lost, at the withering sentence " Depaet eeom me tb 
 ctesed !"- 
 
 r e 
 
434 LIFE-LONG STOET. 
 
 We shall have a critical and elaborate analysis of the con- 
 stituent elements of " acting" the wrath of the Lamb ! 
 
 "We shall have .... but what shall we not have ! 
 
 Wives, and mothers of Christian England who patronize such 
 evils, ought these things so to be ? Will you sit, in the stern 
 council chamber of condemnation, with callous hearts denounc- 
 ing the profligacy and immorality of the "lower orders," 
 many of whom 
 
 " Have but stumbled in the path. 
 Thou hast (perchance) in weakness trod," 
 
 when by that potent teacher, example, and by neglect and in- 
 difference to their wants and wrongs and sufferings, you fa 
 helped to make them what they are ! You, with all your 
 spiritual, moral, intellectual, and social advantag 
 
 The Press generally, to its honour, has grappled with that 
 growing evil, a corrupt stage, and endeavoured to stay its 
 course ; but wheee are our Watchmen ? Those whose sole 
 vocation is, or ought to be, to teach men how to die ; those 
 whose key-note is. or ought to be. Salvation ; those Heaven- 
 delegated guardians of public morals. W^heee are our 
 Watchmen ? Will they standby with folded arms and fashion- 
 able don't-careism. and in allowing their territory to be invaded, 
 practically admit that the Gospel is too weak to teach men how 
 to die, suffering them to rush by thousands to the stage to learn 
 the lesson, without raising a warning note ! 
 
 "Wheee are our Watchmxh ? Is it enough to deal out 
 occasionally a few truistic generalities about the immorality of 
 the stage ; a sprinkling of cut and dried abstractions concerning 
 the " debasing tendency '' of such and such representations ? 
 "Will they, too, never learn the lesson thrust upon them by every 
 ' leading article,' by every day-life experience, that there can be 
 no little war against a great foe ? ^Thj have they not long 
 since followed the example of the Press, and been up and doing ; 
 that this monster sin, playing at death, might have been 
 preached down ? • 
 
 An old Divine exquisitely says : — 
 
 " Death is as full of sorrow as of mystery : to minds of sen- 
 si oility and thoughtfulness it must ever be so. Most de- 
 moralizing is the effect of a coarse, hard familiarity with 
 death.'" 
 
MW 
 
 TASTE AJTD FEELING. 435 
 
 Is this the opinion of modern Divines ? If so. why are 
 
 they silent r * 
 
 On the return of the brave-hearted May at night, after her foot- 
 sore employment, sometimes the bearer of a penny bun, a little 
 fruit, or a few cheering flowers for the precious invalid, she 
 would brace up all her mental and bodily strength to talk hope- 
 fully, and to look cheerful, frequently singing her favor 
 hymns, and never forgetting her mother's favorite — 
 
 " There is a land of pure delight/' 
 that hymn would take the sufferer back, in thought, to 
 sick bed of the crushed Daisy, where she first saw Mm whose 
 love had left no room in her heart for aught beside — to the 
 pleasant evenings at the Leslie's, with that loving-hearted 
 group, all '-scattered and peeled" — to the death-'chamber. 
 where Mercy's droppings first fell on her broken heart ; 1 
 above all, it carried her forward into that Fatherland where the 
 loved and lost shall unite again, and " no more go out 
 every 
 
 " Blessed fold ! no foe can enter, 
 
 And no friend departeth thence ; 
 
 Jesus is their sun, their centre, 
 
 And their shield Omnipotence. 
 
 Sometimes May had the delight of seeing the weary eye of 
 the sufferer close, and a child-like sleep steal over her face as, 
 she sung the olden melody ; then, disregarding her own fatigue, 
 take up the work "to be done immediately," and ply the needle 
 till two, three, and four in the morning. Alas, alas, for the 
 poor girl ! she could trace the progress of disease and weak- 
 ness on that precious mother's frame by the amount of work 
 done bv her wasted fingers ! 
 
 Linnaeus made a dial of flowers : exquisite thought for the 
 Iw.ppy ! but a dial of bony fingers and skeleton faces, would 
 best suit the English needle woman. 
 
 How the heart twines itself round objects of its affection, 
 when they become few whereon to lavish its incense ! concen- 
 trated affection, how it blossoms and thrives ! what rich clusters 
 
 ace this was written, in "rospei blast has swept over the stage ; 
 
 may its echo be caught up and reverberated till these abominations shall 
 give place to " whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely." 
 
 F F 2 
 
436 A LIEE-LO>~G STOET. 
 
 of fruit it "bears when its birth place and cradle have been sor- 
 row ! Xever were hearts strung together more closely than 
 those of Mary and her fatherless children — as day by day her 
 bodily strength grew feebler, her heart-strength grew deeper. 
 
 •'• Mother, darling," said May. passing her hand lovingly over 
 her wan cheek, and then clasping her arras around her neck, 
 ' ; promise me you will not do any more work "till you are better : 
 we shall be able to do very well without your exerting your- 
 self ! promise me, my own mother," she repeated tearfuliy 
 and coaxingly. 
 
 " My dear' child," replied her mother, with a look of grateful 
 affection, " my work amuses me. I cannot always think, or 
 read, or watch for your coming, you know, and then it is a 
 change and a pleasure too ; you would not deprive me of so in- 
 nocent an amusement, my Mary, would you r" she asked, 
 smiling sweetly but sadly, as she kissed the brow of the thought- 
 ful pleader. 
 
 May made no reply ; her heart was full ; and she continued, 
 on her return from her employment, working patiently till 
 morning light at her self-imposed task, the remuneration for 
 which she devoted to the supply of her dying mother's wants, 
 that no diminution of fdod may add to, and aggravate, her 
 sufferings. 
 
 Oh, holy labour ! Child of wealth and luxury, what thinkest 
 thou of this ? Look beyond the drudgery to the motive ener- 
 gising those weary fingers and propping up that sinking heart. 
 'Tis grander than aught of which thou dreamest, though thou 
 rnayest play with crowns and sceptres. 
 
 Ah, Christian England ! Many such mothers, such daugh- 
 ters, such labourers, hast thou hidden in thy teeming breast ! 
 Many such high and holy sacrifices that will remain all un- 
 known, perhaps unrewarded, till that Day when " all things 
 shall be revealed " and appear in their true colours, naked to 
 the glance of Hiir who sits epox the geeat White Theo>'e, 
 
 BEFOEE WHOAI THE DEAD, SMALL A>"D GEEAT, SHALE STA^T)." 
 
 What a gathering ! The iron-hearted man, who exacted a 
 lar^e amount of labour, and paid not for half its value, will be 
 
 there ! 
 
 The grinding competitor, who wrung out of the thews and 
 sinews, bodies and souls of the orphan and the widow, eighteen, 
 twenty, twenty-four hours' daily toil, will be there ! 
 
wmmm&m^emmmmB 
 
 TASTE A3STD FEELTHTG. 437 
 
 The self-immolated victim of this blood-cemented system 
 will be there ! 
 
 The truckling, time-serving statesman, into whose ears the 
 great cry of oppression and wrong rung in vain, will be there ! 
 
 The legislator for great "hells" and little "hells," gin- 
 palaces, and "fourpenny " shops, will be there ! 
 
 The apathetic, selfish shepherd of the helpless flocks, " who 
 saw the wolf coming and fled," will be there ! 
 
 The honey-tongued profligate, with gall in his heart, will be 
 there ! 
 
 The callous, stony-hearted woman of fashion, " caring for 
 none of these things," will be there ! 
 
 Oh, what a gathering ! "What a " multitude whom no man 
 :an number ! " 
 
 "Rocks and mountains fall on us, and hide us \" will be the 
 shriek of mvriads who " cared for none of these things/' as the 
 threat rolls its awful fulfilment over their naked souls — 
 
 " Vengeance is mine, I will repay" " Depaet eeom Me, ye 
 
 CTESED. IXTO EVEELASTI^G EIEE."' 
 
43S A LTFE-LOXG STORY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 Sunset. 
 
 " "Tis only when it mourns and fears, 
 The loaded spirit feels forgiven, 
 And through the mist of falling tears 
 
 We catch the clearest glimpse of heaven." 
 
 Lord Carlisle. 
 
 On" the morning recorded in the first chapter, May left her 
 
 mother with a lighter step and more buoyant hope than she had 
 
 for many weary weeks, deceived by the upflashing of life's lamp ere 
 
 its final darkness ; and she fondly cheated herself into the belief 
 
 that now the warm Spring was come, with its glorious promises, 
 
 her idolized mother would " get well again," and they " should 
 
 all be happy once more : " thus she went through the day's 
 
 duties with a more cheerful look, and with a more elastic step, 
 
 energized by this cherished idea that shed its trembling ray upon 
 
 her soul like some bright, lone star gemming the brow of Night. 
 
 Frequently, on account of her mother's illness, May had 
 
 obtained permission from her employers to leave business an 
 
 hour earlier, when there were " no ladies requiring her attendance," 
 
 and she might, doubtless, have obtained similar grace on that 
 
 evening had she solicited it; but like all refined minds, she 
 
 shrunk from seeming to intrude on kindness ; and moreover, the 
 
 long fluctuations attending on slow decline, and the reiterated 
 
 reply, "much the same," or "very poorly," to enquiries, so 
 
 accustomed people to the idea, that not until life had actually 
 
 fled the sufferer did any one think of her being seriously ill. 
 
«-* 
 
 SUNSET. 439 
 
 " It is only half-past six ," fractiously observed Lord Sillydale, 
 drawing forth a baby watch, and dangling between his well- 
 gloved finger and thumb a bunch of lockets, amulets, and other 
 trumpery, beside several little medals from the Society for Promoting 
 Foolishness ; " what shall we do to while away the next two 
 howas ? I protest I am tia?*;d of the Pawk ! " and the incipient 
 legislator looked with almost infantine helplessness into the face 
 of his portly mother as, assisted by her pet footman, bristling 
 with gold lace and self importance, she stept into her carriage in 
 Hyde Park, after having considerately walked about two dozen 
 paces for the benefit of a waddling, bursting Skye, which she 
 pathetically declared, " required exercise, the dear, darling 
 thing !" 
 
 "Really, I don't know," replied the lady-mother, with a 
 perplexed look, " is it no later than half-past six? What a very 
 long morning it has been ! I am almost tired to death ! " and she 
 sunk into her cushions, with an air of languid prostration 
 pitiable enough. 
 
 " Shall we divlxe up TFegent S tweet, and look in at the 
 P*6'odigality ? " (one of the latter-day vanity fairs) suggested 
 Sillydale. ' " Like yourself, I am tisac'd of the pazcks. Are you 
 
 not wanting a 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " exclaimed the noble mother, thoroughly roused, 
 interrupting her gallant son's suggestion as to her wants. u How 
 glad I am you reminded me of it ! I am sadly in want of another 
 shawl, all those I had last month are getting quite passe; but I 
 do not patronize the Prodigality, because they never 'book,' and 
 I have an account at Fanciful's ; " then nodding condescendingly 
 to the pet footman, who stood, door in hand, waiting the result 
 of the important consultation, as she pronounced '' to Fanciful's," 
 away they rolled, and the coachman drew up in front of a prin- 
 cipal West End Emporium, whither her Ladyship's high-mettled 
 horses could probably have found their way blindfolded, herself 
 to " kill time," though ostensibly to select a shawl, and her 
 gallant son to amuse himself by eliciting the admiration or 
 quizzing of the "gawls," and flirting, where he could do so, with 
 the presiding priestesses of this temple of fashion ; to ensure 
 which dignified employment he had filially punished himself, 
 and delighted his lady-mother, by offering to escort her in her 
 morning drive, which being concluded, he adroitly managed to 
 hit upon the supposed want which brought them both to the 
 
440 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 ultimatum of their wishes — one, to be admired by the u gawls, ' 
 and the other, as before stated, to revel in the charms of shawls 
 from Cachmire, silks from the looms of Persia, laces rivalling the 
 spider's web, bonnets, (oh! what bonnets !) — in short, all that 
 could tempt the taste of Fashion, and gratify the genius of 
 Extravagance. 
 
 " Do you think this cloak is quite long enough ?" asked the 
 noble lady of May, who was requested for the seventh time to put 
 it over her own graceful shoulders, for the better display of its 
 " hang," to the ecstatic delight of the embryo legislator, who had 
 never seen her before, and was struck with the easy self-posses- 
 sion and unaffected grace of the poor girl, whose whole soul was 
 yearning to be away from all the frippery and gaud before her, 
 to the sick bed of her dying mother ; but cloak after cloak, shawl 
 after shawl was drawn forth, discussed and discarded, till at last 
 the time-killing Peeress, worn out herself, looked at her jewelled 
 Geneva, and exclaimed, in accents of affected surprise, that she 
 had " no idea it was so late ! It only wanted three-quarters of 
 an hour to dinner!" then adding, "I have not time to decide 
 this morning," she departed. Thus all the toil her visit entailed 
 — not merely of " trying on" and exhibiting, discussing and 
 discarding, fetching and carrying garments she neither required 
 nor intended to purchase, but also in carefully folding and 
 re-stowing after her departure — defrauded a precious hour, 
 that poor May might have spent so differently ! All the toil, we 
 say, ended in " killing time for herself and son" — another oi 
 those specimens whose " instructors are to be envied for having 
 at vast expence made him so foolish.'" 
 
 "Ended !" but did this sinful time-killing end there I 
 
 When the sands run low in the glass of life, and the dawnins 
 light of Eternity shall open vistas of interminable joy or anguish 
 to the glazing eye, how shall the ghost of these murdered hours 
 haunt the soul ?* 
 
 Had Christian England her "band" of missionary mothers, 
 should we not, as effect follows cause, have an imperial legion oi 
 sons worthy their mothers ? Invincible Train-bands, defending oui 
 country's altars — the most sacred of all causes — from pollution 
 
 * " A million of money for a moment of time !" shrieked the expiring 
 Queen. 
 
 " Ten thousand pounds for ten, only ten minutes !" groaned the dyim 
 infidel. 
 
SUNSET. 
 
 
 and disgrace ! "Why should such vast amounts of influence, and 
 probably talent, be suffocated under a lackadaisical foppery and 
 idleness bedizened with gew-gawa and jewelry \ "Why should 
 not a humanity never destined to sink into a " system of aver;, 
 much less to lie prostrate in the deadly gulf of genteel vices and 
 fashionable sins, be elevated into a useful, healthful atmosphere I 
 Suppose . 
 
 "What, more Utopian schemes V interrupts another fair 
 reader, with an elegant, refined, half-stifled yawn ; " and really, 
 for a woman, the author allows liberty of speech to overstep 
 the line of modesty ! But of course I can skip the next few 
 pages ; one sets weary of such out-of-the-way ideas and nights of 
 imagination.' 3 
 
 We will not deploy the thoughts that, born of your remarks, 
 come trooping through our mind, courteous reader, but candidly 
 confess that we have trespassed too long on your patience, and 
 will considerably curtail cur "out-of-the way ideas," which, as 
 to " skipping" we earnestly hope you will do otherwise. 
 
 " Utopias may be but truths in advance of the age/' says a 
 distinguished female writer, but as we have no talent for being 
 " in advance of the age," we beg to deprecate the accusation of 
 egotism, that may be preparing to launch against us, as we 
 continue. Suppose, then, all this " foolishness" were abandoned, 
 and our voung men of the higher ranks, taking for their model 
 '•earth's one Gentleman, the carpenter of Nazareth,'' "went 
 
 nut doing ' or, adopting the noble sentiment of the pagan 
 
 Terence, went forth conquering and to conquer — not the soft 
 hearts of oppressed, unprotected milliners and over-worked shop- 
 women, — not sneering at virtue and usefulness, — not wrecking soul 
 and body on the rocks of society-privileged profligacy — but to 
 vanquish those dragon evils underlying the whole social fabric, 
 upheaving and convulsing it to the centre. Suppose each one 
 determined to seek out some object worthy of his own immortal 
 nature, whereon to spend his gifts and graces, and after cleansing 
 his hands from guile, clasped that of his brother and fellow 
 sinner — made of the same "red clay" as his own, and though 
 " horny,' 1 perhaps vastly more useful than the bejewelled palm — 
 breathing into the sin-saturated spirit words of warning, entreaty, 
 encouragement, sympathy. '* my brother, live '."' Suppose they 
 threw themselves into the weak, yet noble ranks of the crusaders, 
 now gallantly battling with oppression, drunkenness, crime, in 
 
y 
 
 442 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 fact, with the dominion of the " Prince of Darkness" from 
 
 WHAT MAY OUR ALTARS BE SAVED?" 
 
 " The fate of a nation depends at all times on its young men," 
 said the thinking German, and history endorses the belief; but 
 on what depends the fate of the young men ? If it is a fact that 
 first impressions are the most indelible, and that even in 
 the dying hour the mother-taught lessons of childhood have 
 shed a radiance on " the dark valley ;" if " the child is 
 father to the man," and the man a continuation of the bov, how 
 are our first seed-sowers dealing with these truths and disciplining 
 these arbitrators of nations 1 
 
 "The training that can make a handful of useful men does 
 more for the world than many kings," was the opinion of a master- 
 mind centuries since ; but a thoughtful contemplation of the 
 present state around us, would surely induce the belief that the 
 term "useless" had been substituted for " useful," and thus 
 damaged, the noble aphorism had reached our times. 
 
 Thank God ! England has yet many faithful sons, around 
 whose crested heads rests the deathless halo of "pure and 
 undejiled religion" 
 
 Why have we not more of them ? Whose fault is it (for fault 
 there is somewhere) that the streets of our great cities swarm 
 with silly, conceited, over-dressed offshoots of the "peerage and 
 landed gentry," who seem intent on making themselves earnest 
 simpletons, suggesting to the beholder certain wicked thoughts 
 of a certain philosopher's metempsychosis doctrine. Whose 
 fault is it that profligacy, selfishness, and indolence are rampant 
 among those to whom the " lower orders" look for example, and 
 whose vices they will imitate ? Is it the fault of education ? 
 of the false standard by which society weighs? of their 
 mothers ? 
 
 " One would really imagine that the writer imputes all the sin 
 and follies in the world to the faults of mothers and ministers !" 
 is probably the mental exclamation of the impatient reader. 
 
 Not quite all, lady, though no doubt our social polity would be 
 better were these highly attractive and influential bodies less 
 apt to fly off into space, but receiving and giving illumination in 
 their own orbits. At any rate, there is wrong somewhere, when 
 our fresh manhood is striving to be useless and ridiculous. 
 
 Far, far differently did those frittered hours pass to one 
 
 Jju h ^^s^^t^r 
 
SUNSET. -i-io 
 
 not many "paces from all the frivolity and "time-killing" 
 that occupied the noble woman and her son ; for around those 
 hours gathered the mists and shadows of that twilight which 
 preludes no earthly morning. 
 
 Touched by the anxiety depicted on the countenance of the 
 rapidly-sinking mother of May, and the yearning restlessness of 
 her fading eye fixed on the door, the good-natured Mrs. Cartel 
 volunteered to " sit a little while" with her, hoping to lure away 
 the lagging moments, 'till that agony of watchfulness should be 
 ended by the arrival of her child. At length, the clock struck 
 eight, and the dying widow turned her eye searchingly to that of 
 the sympathizing woman. 
 
 u Miss Courtenaye will soon be here now, my dear lady !" she 
 replied, interpreting the pleading look, and trying to speak cheei- 
 
 fullyj; yet still the restlessness continued ! 
 
 Half-past eight came .... 
 
 "You had better go for your sister, Master Courtenaye," 
 exclaimed Mrs. Carter, changing color and speaking thickly, for 
 she saw that fearful restlessness was fast merging into the death- 
 strife, almost too dreadful even for her to look on, and her heart 
 bled for the poor distracted boy, who stood powerless to soothe 
 the sufferings that blanched his young cheek as he gazed. 
 
 Quick as love and fear could wing him, the terrified brother of 
 May sped to the scene where she was dissipating those precious 
 moments for the amusement of immortal souls, whose craving 
 " want of a want" would have contrasted strangely with the one 
 want of that dying saint, wrestling in unspoken agony, for the 
 sight of her child once more, ere she closed her eyes on all earth's 
 sorrows ; but though the anxious boy sent thrice to his sister, 
 entreating her to "make haste," no one delivered his message, 
 and there he stood, watching at the shop-door, heart-sick with 
 terror and disappointment. 
 
 The next half-hour lengthened into ages to the dying mother. 
 Nature's fearful restlessness grew more fearful i She tossed from 
 side to side on her bed of agony, and her eyes seemed starting 
 from their sockets ! She was dvinjr, but could not die till she had 
 once more looked on the precious link that held her still below ! 
 Stretched out were the spirit wings, but they fluttered this side 
 
 Eternity's portal ! hovering over the 
 
 loved. Oh, God ! how fearful was the strife ! how stern was the 
 conflict between Nature and Death ! 
 
444 A LIFE-LONG STOET. 
 
 "Sister spirit ! come away!" softly whispered the convoying 
 angels. 
 
 " My child ! mv child !" agonized the sinking flesh, and the 
 conflict deepened, till the " final weariness" came rapidly on, and 
 the sands run low in the dying mother's glass. 
 
 Once more fixing her fast glazing eye on Mrs. Carter, she 
 beckoned her close, and said, in a faint voice, " They come !" 
 then she turned eagerly to the door, and her last earthly affections 
 centered and grew into that intense gaze ! 
 
 Another moment, and rapid steps were heard mounting the 
 stairs 
 
 " My child ! my child !" cried a voice from the far end of the 
 Dark Valley, and with supernatural energy throwing her wasted 
 arms towards May as she entered, the dying mother gave one 
 last love-look, gently whispering, " Now, Lamb of God, I come !" 
 and all was still ! 
 
 We forbear parting the veil that shrouded the darkness of the 
 poor orphans' woe, as, with nothing to hope for, nothing to 
 labour for, nothing to hve for, they stand locked in each other's 
 arms, alone in the hard w T orld, beside that beloved corpse, from 
 whose face the farrows of sorrow and suffering had departed, 
 leaving it in its deep repose, wearing once more the former happy 
 look. Oh ! how strangely that angel countenance contrasted 
 with the face of May ! upon every line of which was written, — 
 
 " Oh ! that we two were sleeping 
 Beneath the churchyard sod, 
 With our heads at rest, on the quiet earth's breast, 
 And our souls a f home with God !" 
 
^^ 
 
 COME, FOPw ALL THINGS AEE EEADY. 445 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 Conic, for all Ztim are gea^- 
 
 "But think of me, vhbv it shall be well with thee, and 
 -hew kindness unto me, i pray thes. and make mentios of me, 
 
 AND BRING ME OUT OF THI3 HOUSE." — Gen. xl. 14. 
 
 How carefully we examine the records of memory, lest the 
 lightest wish of the loved and lost should remain unfulfilled ! 
 What an amazing melter of the selfish heart is Death ! What a 
 relentless searcher of the conscience ! What a stern humbler of 
 our pride ! Oh, how generous it makes us ! How willing and 
 anxious to atone for old unkindnesses and past neglect ! — 
 
 * How many a bitter pang 'twould hush, 
 What burning tear-drops save, 
 If life more sacred held the ties 
 That consecrate the grave.*' 
 
 The day after May's orphanage she recollects the last morn- 
 ing's request of her sainted mother, " when I am gone, write to 
 your uncle ; he may be kind then," and she sorrowfully sat down 
 to fulfil the wish. 
 
 " No, my dear May !" said her sobbing brother, throwing his 
 arms round her neck. " I will go and see him, and spare you 
 the pain of writing : our blessed mother told me how to find him, 
 and gave me instructions what to do ; so don't worry about it to- 
 day. Let me do all I can to save you. I must be your pro- 
 tector now, and take care of you. I seem to have grown a great 
 deal older since since our " 
 
446 A LIFE-LO>~G STOEY. 
 
 Yes, thine is the language of all who know their own heart' 
 hitterness. They " seem to grow old in a day," poor hoy ! 
 
 That morning brought May a quarter's salary, in advance, 
 from her kind-hearted employer, and she received it with grateful 
 tears, as the first instalment of the promise, "leave thy fatherless to 
 lie." This timely aid enabled the orphans to pay the final duties 
 respectably to her, whose entrance into the world's fitful flicker 
 of light and shade, had been so differently ushered ; and as her 
 father printed the first kiss on her unconscious brow, could he 
 for one moment have lifted Time's veil, and looked down the vista 
 on the mournful array of desertion, neglect, labour, sickness, 
 poverty, and death through which the baby- pilgrim had to pass, 
 and much of these sufferings entailed by his own folly and 
 bigotry, would he not have exclaimed, with the heathen of old, 
 " Crush the fiower in the bud. 'tis easy then !'' But though he 
 knew it not, that thorny road was the path which brought the 
 heart of his child to the only quiet Resting-place. — " Not myicitl 
 hut thine be done." 
 
 True to his word, as soon as the mother-dust was laid in the 
 grave, the young Courtenaye proposed to visit his uncle. 
 The patient, self-denying boy-nurse had (to use his own words) 
 suddenly grown old in a day. Accustomed ever to be at the side 
 of his jjentle mother, administering with devoted care and tender- 
 ness to her wants, he had, during the closing years of her linger- 
 ing decav, almost wholly spent his time with her and his beloved 
 books ; for while every available article of her own had been gradu- 
 allv parted with to supply Nature's oft-returning wants, her ido- 
 lized husband's library had been sacred, and ensured a never-failing 
 spring whereat the boy could slake his passionate thirst for 
 knowledge ; his studies had been pursued under a master 'till 
 the departure of his young companion, Donald Leslie, and from 
 that period with his mother — the virgin wish of his young life 
 being to become a messenger of the Gospel, like his father, whose 
 memory had grown into his heart, a holy, separate thing, 
 nourished and strengthened by her whose greatest pleasure was 
 to pour into his willing ear the history of that father's virtues, 
 and of his young and bright career. Deep, deep within his boy- 
 soul had this desire taken root and spread, fed by some intangible, 
 but rainbow hope (which gilds only the dreams of youth), that 
 some day he too may be destined to become a soldier in the ranks 
 of the world's great Captain. 
 
COME, FOR ALL THINGS ARE READY. 44:7 
 
 " Never forget the advice of his dying mother, which made 
 your father the burning, shining light he was, my own dear 
 boy," Mary would say — when listening with melancholy pleasure 
 tojher son's aspirations, — and marking the kindling of his dark 
 eye, in which the fire of genius dwelt, he would exclaim — " Oh, if 
 I could bring but one soul into the fold I should be happy as a 
 prince ! " and when, perchance, I may not be near to counsel 
 you, let it have a threefold voice, " in all thy ways acknowledge 
 Him, and He will direct thy patlis." 
 
 " I will, mother! I will!" promised the young aspirant, and 
 the words prefaced every prayer. 
 
 " To live in hearts we leave behind 
 Is not to die,'' 
 
 and who shall reckon the harvest of blessings sprung from thy 
 last words, and reaped for the garner of Eternity, oh, departed 
 grandmother ! 
 
 Like the dumb son of Croesus, the orphan boy seemed not 
 only suddenly to have recovered the power of speech, but of 
 action ; and May was surprised to see her hitherto quiet brother 
 — who had seemed but to live and move as his mother willed 
 him — becoming a sage and judicious counsellor. With a calm 
 strength of mind and clearness of judgment, showing a capability 
 and energy beyond his years, he voluntarily took upon him all 
 the solemn and sad entailments of the funeral of her they both 
 so tenderly loved. Now that his constant watchfulness by the 
 side of suffering sorrow was no longer needed, the release of that 
 seemed also the release of his powers of mind and body. 
 
 " May," said he, on the day those dear remains had been 
 decently laid in their lonely resting-place, " I will go at once to 
 our uncle, and if he does not advise me, I will try and get into 
 some office or shop. Would it not be nice if I could get employ- 
 ment in the same house with you," and he put his arm round 
 her neck, kissing awav the fast falling tears. " I won't mind 
 what I do to be near you, and take care of you, and if we 
 put our trust in the God of our dear father and mother, 
 He will never leave nor forsake us." 
 
 Ah ! that is the right kind of faith, if but a child's faith, and 
 passes as current in the treasury of the Great King, as did that of 
 the smitten Patriarch, when he exclaimed, " though He slay me, 
 yet will I trust Him." 
 
A LIFE-LO>*G STOUT. 
 
 "la Mr. Grenville at home?" in a somewhat unsteady voice, 
 asked the orphan boy of a parchment-faced clerk, who plainly 
 wore upon his sickly lineaments, "not a half-holiday office 
 within." 
 
 c< lie is sir," replied the said non-half-holiday, in a respectful 
 tone, touched bv the mourning attire and sad face of the hand- 
 some boy. " AVhat name shall I send in ?'' 
 
 " Edward Courtenaye," was the answer, and there was a dash 
 of pride, as the father's name was pronounced. 
 
 The non half-holiday wrote the name on a slip of paper, and 
 passed it on to a brother clerk, who gave it to a third, in 
 the shape of a stunted, white-faced boy-fag, who disappeared 
 with it into the sanctum occupied by the secluded member of the 
 legal profession ; and, in another moment, the uncle and nephew 
 were face to face. 
 
 Time had not improved the physiognomy of John Grenville, 
 and in his corporeal proportions he had become bloated, very like 
 his former friend John Josiah Redman ; while the look of low 
 conning that had succeeded his once reckless air, inspired 
 no very flattering estimation of the heart beating beneath his 
 huge, cavernous chest. 
 
 "So your name is Courtenaye, is it?" asked the legal man, 
 looking "up from forbidding specimens of caligraphy, whose stift 
 eharacters, and alienated lines symbolized the interrogator's lack 
 of affinity to his kind, and running his eye over the boy, 
 with stony indifference. 
 
 "My name is Courtenaye, uncle," answered the boy, with 
 a softening voice, for the epithet " uncle" brought vividly before 
 i the meek face of his mother. 
 
 No doubt, from the garb and sad aspect of his nephew, the 
 " uncle," seemed fully to comprehend, at a glance, the position oi 
 affairs, and he growled out, — 
 
 « \y e ll — s it down ! How many more of ye, are there ?" 
 "Only one— my dear sister May," was the response, eliciting 
 the semi-philosopher's exclamation : — 
 
 ' ; That's a good job! or God knows what would become o 
 i, for / don't '." 
 
 This flinty enigma, however, so unfeelingly uttered by th( 
 learned man," was meekly explained by the boy's answering, — 
 "God would take care of us, uncle, as He will of May anc 
 
 me ! 
 
 r- 
 
COME, FOR ALL THINGS ARE READY. 44'J 
 
 u How do you know that f was the instant and coarse reply. 
 " Did he take care of your mother, after the hard bed of her own 
 making; she was obliged to lie on ?" 
 
 The wounded orphan thus silenced the cruel ironv, and vindi- 
 cated his maligned mother — " My blessed mother's bed was 
 hard, uncle, but she never made it so, and God did take care oi 
 her, for she has exchanged that bed for a throne and a crown ol 
 glory." 
 
 This mild, yet touching rebuke, and high example of filial 
 devotion, produced a lengthened pause, and the uncle, con- 
 founded, now sought to conciliate, by asking, — 
 
 " Well ! and what can you do V 
 
 With a quickness indicating an aptitude for business, but 
 becomingly toned by an air of modesty, the hopeful aspirant 
 enquired, — 
 
 " What would be required of me ? I can write a plain 
 hand, understand a little arithmetic, beside having studied Latin, 
 Greek, and French." 
 
 This ingenuousness, which in lofty minds would have com- 
 manded unconscious admiration, only produced a chilling scorn 
 in the mean wretch to whom it was addressed, and with a sneer, 
 he exclaimed : — 
 
 "Your mother's Greek and Latin, I suppose!" 
 
 Like a poisoned arrow glancing from a shielded breast, 
 waking a clang that warns the assailed of danger and the 
 assailant of defeat, so fell the contemptible insinuation on the 
 invincible boy ; the brave grew braver, and triumphed, for Truth 
 ever aiding those who serve her, helped her young worshipper, 
 thus prompting his reply : — 
 
 " No ! uncle, I learut of the tutor who taught Donald Leslie, 
 'till he went away, and then I studied by myself, and dear 
 mother sometimes helped me." 
 
 There are gross natures too stubborn to yield to moral force, 
 and too stupid to discern the difference between a wise submis- 
 sion to superior power, and a wanton self-sacrifice. Such was John 
 Grenville, alike stolid to the supremacy of the heart or religion, 
 and, boastful of his bulk, yet sneaking behind the rampart 
 of social position, he more cowardly annoyed the stripling it was 
 his duty to serve. 
 
 " I hope you didn't learn any of his cant at the same time, 
 from your father's books I" 
 
 G G 
 
450 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 The blood crimsoned to the very hair-roots of the insulted 
 boy ! his idol-father to be thus spoken of ! and fixing his 
 eyes, strongly reminding the cowardly lawyer of the profaned 
 dead, he enquired, — 
 
 " What do you mean by the term cant, sir, as applied to the 
 conduct of my beloved father ?" 
 
 The brutish Grenville turned many shades redder ; for one 
 moment his craven eye fell beneath the lightning glance of the 
 orphan ; but quickly regaining his low self-possession, he an- 
 swered, — 
 
 " Why, turning everybody's heads upside down with his 
 religion and humbug, your mother's among the rest, who made a 
 precious mess of it when she listened to his oily tongue !" 
 
 " Sir," said the young sorrower, firmly, but with a blanched 
 lip, " I came here to inquire if you could recommend me to any 
 honorable employment as the means of self-support, not to hear 
 the memory of my dead father and mother insulted ! I pray 
 God I may never disgrace the memory of either more than I have 
 in listening to your remarks. It shall be the one desire of my 
 life not to do so !" and bowing, he left the office, abandoning his 
 " uncle " to the chastisement of his scarce unexpired conscience. 
 
 With a rapid step the disappointed boy gained his home, 
 where now, alas ! there was no loving eye, no welcome voice, no 
 smile of encouragement, as of yore ; and sinking on his knees, he 
 poured forth his swelling sorrow into the "Ear that is never 
 heavy," and pleaded, with unabated fervour, the mother- taught 
 faith-prayer ; then he rose refreshed, leaning on the Arm that 
 knows no weariness. 
 
 John Grenville had no sooner seen the door close on his high- 
 hearted nephew, than he regretted having allowed his tyrannical 
 temper to overshoot the mark. Like his friend John Josiah 
 Redman, he never did anything without an eye to " what could 
 be got by it," or how it would "tell," and it so happened he was 
 just then in want of a boy for his office, and he had no sooner 
 cast his eye on the sable attire, and recognized the handsome 
 features of the young Courtenaye, than the truth and the oppor- 
 tunity flashed at once into his mind, and he decided on making 
 a mighty telling affair of "just what I wanted, bv Jove ! How 
 
 luckv r 
 
COME, FOR ALL THINGS ARE READY. 451 
 
 But like numbers even of his profound fraternity, he "reckoned 
 without his host," and instead of securing the boy's services at a 
 trifling remuneration, and ensuring an affecting historv of " his 
 generosity and kindness in having adopted the orphan son of his 
 sister, who made a most unfortunate match," he stood abashed 
 all iron- hearted, and, villain as he was, both by nature and 
 practice ; there was that in the boy's bearing, and the out-flashing 
 of his young spirit in defence of the dead, that made his coward 
 heart quail, just as guilt ever feels, ay, and ever will feel in the 
 presence of virtue ; but not daring to call him back, he consoled 
 himself with the sour-grape-developement, like the fox, of whom 
 he was a first-rate representative. 
 
 " Good job ! a blessed riddance ! No doubt the insolent young 
 jackanapes would have bored me to death with his can't and 
 humbug!" 
 
 "Who was that distinguished-looking lad I just passed as I 
 entered V* enquired a thoughtful, middle-aged man of John Gren- 
 ville, who rose with wonderfully Protean visage to receive his 
 visitor. 
 
 "I really don't know/' answered the villain, "became to offer 
 himself, hearing that I wanted an office-boy, but I never ask any 
 questions, if I see (which I do at a glance) that they won't suit. 
 Why do you ask me ?" 
 
 " Because he strongly reminded me of a friend I once had." 
 replied the stranger, with a slight curl of his lip. 
 
 Not for a world would the wounded boy have told Mav what 
 passed between his uncle and himself; he merely said, in answer 
 to her many enquiries, he found him " very different from their 
 dear mother," and he did not hold out any hopes of helping him 
 in procuring employment. 
 
 " So you see, darling May," he added cheerfully, " I shall 
 have to carve my own fortunes, and like our favorite traveller, 
 Mungo Park, when I am naughty and cast down, I will think of 
 God's care for the little piece of moss, and take courage." 
 
 Another week, and all his efforts were unsuccessful ; still his 
 faith and trust flagged not. " I shall get something better 
 by and by for having waited so long," said the gallant orphan, 
 as he tenderly wiped away the tears of disappointment and hope 
 
 G G 2 
 
452 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 deferred that gathered in May's meek eyes ; "don't you recol- 
 lect how often dear mother used to tell us that 
 
 "They serve who wait ?" 
 
 Noble boy ! 'tis a hard, but a most salutary lesson, though, 
 for the eagle spirit, to whom action! action! is as food and 
 vitality, to learn and practise. 
 
 It is an evening in " leafy June." On the blue hills the 
 warm sun-rays linger, flooding around a tender brilliancy that 
 brings, we know not why, from memory's mysterious cells, forms 
 and voices of other years. Uprising on the balmy air, from thou- 
 sands of feathered life, floats the evening hymn of praise 
 to Him whose unfailing care "feeds the young ravens when they 
 cry /" The wind sighs through the dark leaves as, in low music, 
 they whisper some tale of other years, or some fair promise for 
 the future. Earth's perfumed stars have scarce begun to fold 
 their silken leaves, lingering, as loth to leave the gladsome 
 scene. Mingling with the ever-preaching voices of Nature, for — 
 
 " Nature is but a name for an effect, 
 Whose cause is God," 
 
 comes the lightsome laugh of joyous childhood, and the busy 
 hum of human voices. Here groups of men and women — early 
 emancipated from drudgery and toil, — are drinking in draughts of 
 genial air, and gaining fresh energy for the morrow's recurring 
 labour ; while, from the eloquent teaching around them, learning 
 lessons of gratitude to Him who clothes the world in its 
 wondrous beauty ; thus elevating and purifying the thoughts 
 escaped for a while from the whirl and eddy of business. There 
 a cluster of those whose life-lot is cast 'mid sunshine and song, 
 who pine for no ungratified desire, and know no anxious 
 " taking thought for the morrow." 'Tis a cheering picture — a 
 domestic Oasis in life's wilderness. 
 
 But there are other and far different scenes. There is the 
 shadow of life's twilight gathering round the lonely bed of sorrow 
 and suffering. There is the terrible hunger-cry from white- 
 lipped childhood, and the anguish-tear of the widow who cannot 
 stop that cry. There is the ribald jest, and the red-hot 
 blasphemy in the loathsome cesspools of crime and gin. There 
 is the fierce scowl of the hardened felon, on whom the next 
 
r - - 
 
 COME. FOR ALL THINGS ARE REAI>Y. 453 
 
 morning's sun shall look down as he comes forth to the scaffold, 
 charging home to his country's laws,* his ruin, and his blood. 
 There is the weary, hopeless, white slave, sickening and straining 
 everv pained nerve over the task that brings the scanty meal, 
 lonsins for that rest " where there is neither work nor device, and 
 where the voice of the oppressor^ is not heard." There is the 
 gloomy anticipation of a night of utter darkness tracking and 
 scathing the path of unpardoned sin, — 
 " Seest thou that woman?' 
 
 The clock strikes nine ! 
 
 Enter von gaudy temple of the Moloch of business. Behind 
 its grated* desks, perched on platforms, what a cartoon of sickly, 
 weary, young faces peer ! Weeks, months, years have passed, 
 marked* only by the twelve hours' daily toil, and those immortal 
 creatures have been patiently manipulating the scattered frag- 
 ments of Britain's idol, the " almighty guinea ;" while round 
 
 * ** There is scarcely a crime brought before me that is not directly or 
 indirectly caused by strong drink." is the testimony of six of our judges ; 
 and while Acts of Parliament can neither make men religious nor sober, 
 they can and ought to remove those ruin-lures greeting the eye at every 
 hundred yards in Christian Britain ; and not till her exchequer shall cease 
 to be replenished by revenues coined from the souls and bodies of her 
 unfortunate children, will she attain unto the lofty position sought for her 
 by patriots and philanthropists. 
 
 + " I could tell you what I have seen in the East of London. I have seen 
 women at work — the widows of our soldiers and sailors, many of them — 
 engage i in hard work to earn for themselves and their children a scanty 
 pittance to eke out the workhouse allowance. I could tell you of the rate 
 of wages for shirts, for instance. On some they earn nine farthings, 
 paying for their needle and thread ; and threepence halfpenny for some 
 requiring double the amount of labour, still paying for their needle and 
 thread. " By working twelve or fourteen hours they may make three cheap 
 shirts, and earn sixpence ; and they can, by working iourteen hours, make 
 a pair of heavy moleskin trousers (the best paid kind of work) and earn, 
 after deducting the cost of needles, thread, and twist, ninepence as the 
 result of their labour. It is in the sight of such a thing as this that I 
 claim to stand here to advocate the cause of those who are employed in 
 exclusively West-end establishments, because I do believe these things are 
 evils of the same character. They are foul b ; rds of the same foul nest, and 
 the dam that bred them is Selfishness; and I hail with satisfaction anv 
 movement — no matter at which end of the social scale it begins— to check 
 the growth of the evil, and to protest against it in the face of the nation at 
 l ar o-e." — The Rev. William M'Call 
 
454 A LIFE-LONG STORY. 
 
 them, with lagging and foot-weary pace, chained to the car of 
 that tyrannous Moloch, move hundreds of slaves of both sexes, 
 spirit-crushed, body enfeebled and destroyed, mental powers 
 benumbed and stultified, the moral faculties deteriorated and 
 perverted, — 
 
 u Man's inhumanity to man, 
 Makes countless thousands mourn." 
 
 Among those white faces peering listlessly through the 
 gratings may be recognized the brow of thought and the genius- 
 lighted eye of the orphan Courtenaye. Yes — he has a home at 
 last! His ardent spirit has for a moment quailed before the 
 insolent extraneous enquiry, the course rebuff, the heartless " not 
 fit," or the chilling "won't do," in his search for honorable 
 employment, but he has bravely battled on, and has a home at 
 last where he can earn his bread ; and though thus to earn it is 
 at great cost to the aspiring boy, whose young dreams have been 
 gilded by the hope of carrying the "Name above every name'' to 
 the heathen, yet he never loses his hold on the " Faithful 
 Promiser." May he not be a missionary even in that sink where 
 all the instincts that elevate man above the brute creation are 
 stifled and crushed out of being by the deadening, debasing mate- 
 rialism round and about? May he not sow the name of the 
 Friend of the " Weary and heavy laden" there ? 
 
 Noble boy ! hope on ! work on ! onward and upward, gallant 
 
 orphan ! Thine after-day may yet be bright ! thy young life, 
 
 nursed 'mid grief and deprivation, may yet be solaced, and thy 
 
 dreams of usefulness realized. Hope on! there's a good time 
 
 coming : — 
 
 " They serve who wait." 
 
 And now — ye to whom this tale is dedicated — the gallant- 
 hearted orphans are still among us ; every oppressed milliner, 
 dressmaker, and shopwoman, a May ; every weary, jaded shop- 
 man a Courtenaye — and shall we not use them well? Shall 
 we not begin by enfranchising their minds and bodies from their 
 crushing slavery, and begin at once by stereotyping a household 
 command, "Never shop after Seven." 
 
 Mothers ! will not you use them well, and let them see the 
 Angel of Mercy still dwells in your bosoms, though she be banished 
 all the world beside ? Oh, for the sake of the departed mother, 
 
COME, FOR ALL THINGS ARE READY. 455 
 
 use them well ! By the unknown future for your own precious 
 ones — by all that is sacred and right — use them well! 
 " He who upholds oppression, shares the crime.'' 
 
 Will you share the crime that, in London alone, annually 
 crushes out of life, from over-toil and misery,* one thousand of 
 your sisters ? Will you, can you, live one day longer with the 
 blood-drops of these victims of cupidity and fashion on your 
 souls ? Awav with the thought ! The English missionary 
 " field is white to harvest," and woman will — she must — come 
 into it ! Not by tens — one ministering angel here '* making 
 crooked things straight," and another ministering angel there 
 binding up the broken-hearted with u patterns of heavenly 
 things," still this side of Death's stream— but by thousands! 
 All women for these stirring times ! they will not, they cannot, 
 be regenerated without her. As she was in the world's Creation, 
 Fall, and Redemption, so she must be in its Regeneration — 
 apparently the appointed link between fallen humanity and 
 unsinning intelligences. 
 
 Not meaningless was one of the peers of heaven sent to first 
 breathe over earth's guilt and ruin the name of its Creator, 
 Redeemer, Saviour into woman's ear, as she drank in the glory- 
 words, "thou shalt call His name Jesus, for He shall save his 
 people from their sins." 
 
 Not meaningless were the first words of Death's risen Conqueror 
 addressed to the faithful Magdalene, "go tell my brethren, and 
 Peter, I am risen." 
 
 Not meaningless was woman " last at the Cross and first at the 
 Tomb." 
 
 Come, then, let each in her sphere fulfil her lofty mission. 
 " The Spirit and the Bride say Come !" The voices all around 
 sav " Come !" The open graves say " Come !" Time's lengthen- 
 in'^ shadows sav " Come !" Eternity's echoes say " Come !" 
 And as " there are so many kinds of voices in the world, and 7ione 
 of them is without signification,'' shall we any longer turn the 
 adder-ear ? Nay, rather, as fellow-workers with our Lord, will we 
 not enter into the open path, and now- — " NOW, WHILE IT 
 IS CALLED TO-DAY," pre-date and pre-enjoy that blessed 
 moment, when the voice, sweeter far than a mother's lullaby, shall 
 fall on the raptured soul, — 
 
 * Testimony of Dr. Lankester. 
 

 -456 A LIFE-LONG STORT. 
 
 " Cojne, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared j\ 
 
 you; for" Oh, mark that monosyllable "for," it seems 
 
 hinge of salvation ! u I was hungry and ye gave me meat, thirs 
 
 and ye gave me drink, sick, and in prison, and ye visited me" 
 
 "Come, ye blessed I" 
 
 THE END. 
 
 LONDON: THOMAS BARTON, PRINTER, 310, STRAND.