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 THE LIBRARY 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 STEPS TOAEDS HEAVEN; 
 
 OB, 
 
 RELIGION IN COMMON LIFE. 
 
 A SERIES OF LAI SERMONS FOR CONVERTS IN THB 
 GREAT AWAKENING; 
 
 BY T. S. ARTHUR. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 G. G. EVANS, 439 CHESTNUT STREET. 
 
 1859.
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year Is".", by 
 J. W. BRADLEY, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Ui-art of the United States, in and 
 for the Eastern 1'Hriet of Pennsylvania. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA : 
 
 fBINTED BY KINO & BA1RD 
 
 607 SANSOM STKKET
 
 PS 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 No special theology is taught in this volume. It 
 addresses itself to no particular sect or denomination. It 
 has no aim but to assist men to grow better, and thence, 
 happier. The author comes to the reader, and seeks to 
 inspire him with an unselfish, even a divine and holy pur 
 pose ; to aid him in the conquest of evil affections ; and 
 to furnish him with incentives to right living. 
 
 Religion is life ; that is, a life of good deeds in the 
 world and, unless such a life be led, no matter what a 
 man's faith may be, his religion is vain. Piety, which 
 means the formal worship of God, and Charity which con. 
 sists in acting justly among men, make, when united in 
 any one, the true Christian. Charity is the great essen 
 tial ; for, if a man love not his brother whom he hath 
 seen, how can he love God whom he hath not seen? 
 Worship, therefore, in the absence of charity, is vain, and 
 the prayers of one who does not deal justly and humanely 
 with his fellow-men, can never ascend into heaven. 
 
 Such is the doctrine of this book, and in teaching it, the 
 
 1117C68
 
 IV PEEFACE. 
 
 author has chosen the attractive and beguiling form of 
 life-pictures, narratives, and conversations, hoping thereby 
 to win the attention and hold the interest of his readers, 
 until the lessons he would teach are written upon their 
 minds -in ineffaceable characters. He takes, as it were, 
 the truth-seeker at the church door, as he is about going 
 back for his six days' toil, temptation, and experience in 
 the world, and tries to make him comprehend that religion 
 is for the daily life, and cannot be put aside at the tran 
 quil close of Sabbath evenings. That in every department 
 of business ; in every office and profession ; and in every 
 household duty, men and women must be governed by the 
 divine precepts of the Bible, or they cannot move a step 
 heavenwards, no matter how devoutly they may have 
 worshipped in the congregations of the people.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 MM 
 
 L 
 
 From Death onto Life, . . . . 9 
 
 IL 
 
 As we Forgive, . . 35 
 
 IIL 
 
 Heavenly Minded, , . . 45 
 
 ' IV. 
 
 Wheat or Tares ? 60 
 
 V. 
 
 Is he a Christian ? ..57 
 
 VI. 
 
 Of Such is the Kingdom of Heaven, 71 
 
 VIL 
 
 The Happy New Year, 81 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Entering Heaven, 95 
 
 IX. 
 It is Morning with the Child, ...... 100 
 
 X. 
 Richer or Poorer ? ... ... 109
 
 Vi CONTENTS. 
 
 MM 
 
 XL 
 Every Wrinkle a Line of Beauty, 121 
 
 XII. 
 Died Poor, 128 
 
 XIII. 
 Cursed with Blessings, 132 
 
 XIV. 
 He that Overcometh, 138 
 
 XV. 
 The Trials of a Day, 146 
 
 XVL 
 Angel Visits, 168 
 
 XVII. 
 Algernon the Merchant, 176 
 
 XVIII. 
 Enemies, 188 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Duty and Kindness, . 189 
 
 XX. 
 Imperishable Beauty, ........ 203 
 
 XXL 
 Neighbor Gray, 214 
 
 XXII. 
 Spiritual Pride, 232 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Aunty Jones, the Peacemaker, 257 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Which shall Serve? . ,268
 
 CONTENTS. Vll 
 
 MM 
 
 XXV. 
 Jfr. Brownlee's Visitor, 282 
 
 XXVI. 
 The Shadows we Cast, 291 
 
 XXVIL 
 Good Deeds, 801 
 
 XXVIII. 
 Ruined, 806 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Providence, . . . 311 
 
 XXX. 
 The Wages of the Poor, 825 
 
 XXXI. 
 The Dream Warning, 832 
 
 XXXII. 
 In the Workshop, 842 
 
 XXXIII. 
 The Two Pictures, ........ 868 
 
 XXXTV. 
 Temptation, 862 
 
 XXXV. 
 At Home, 8*70 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 WildOatfl, 892. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 The Angel Pain, 8
 
 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 FKOM DEATH UNTO LIFE. 
 
 THE prayer-meeting excitement was over for the 
 day, and Mr. Lyon, who had returned to his family, 
 was feeling the pressure of old states, and the jar 
 of old discordant conditions of life. Mrs. Lyon 
 was weary with her day's work, and manifested 
 an unusual degree of impatience, especially towards 
 the children, whose tempers were altogether out of 
 harmony. 
 
 The transition from a prayer-meeting, in which 
 the soul rises into states of ecstasy, or sinks into an 
 almost pulseless tranquillity, to an ill-regulated 
 home, where selfish feelings struggle for the mas 
 tery, and discord jars the heart at every pulsation, 
 
 is ver,y great, and presents one of the strongest 
 
 1*
 
 10 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 trials of a man's religious feelings. He who can 
 meet this change, and yet possess his soul in peace, 
 has, indeed, gained large accessions of spiritual life. 
 There are not many who can pass through the trial 
 unmoved. 
 
 "Thank God! Another soul has passed from 
 death unto life I" said a pious brother, as he wrung 
 the hand of Mr. Lyon, on parting with him at the 
 door of the room where the daily prayer-meeting 
 was held. " I greet you as an heir of the King 
 dom ! You have a goodly heritage. Let me exhort 
 you to stand fast in the faith, and to suffer no man 
 to take your crown." 
 
 " I have been near the gate of heaven," Mr. 
 Lyon spoke in a subdued tone, and with a smile of 
 peace on his countenance. "I could almost hear 
 angelic voices almost see the white garments of 
 the shining ones. Oh, the bliss of heaven ! I feel 
 as if I would like to pass upwards, now, to my rest, 
 and be received into the company of saints and 
 martyrs." 
 
 " You speak from the warmth of a first love, that 
 is sweeter than honey and the honey-comb," an 
 swered the brother. " But we must fight, if we 
 would reign ; and you must pray with the poet
 
 FROM DEATH UNTO LIFE. 11 
 
 ' Increase my courage, Lord.' 
 
 " Only they who bear the cross, can wear the 
 crown." 
 
 A little dashed were the feelings of Mr. Lyon, 
 by these words of the brother, and he moved on his 
 way homeward, in a less ecstatic frame of mind. 
 
 " From death unto life !" The language of con 
 gratulation still lingered in his ears. " What death ? 
 What life?" These questions a little disturbed 
 him, for the answer was not prompt and clear. 
 
 " Born into spiritual life. Born a new creature 
 in God." He uttered the words, mentally, with 
 some firmness, as if to settle the question decisively. 
 But he was not satisfied. 
 
 " What is spiritual life 2 What is a new creature 
 in Goa ? Language that involves such vast con 
 cerns can have no vague significance." 
 
 Instead of gaining light, the mind of our friend 
 passed into a region of clouds and shadows. He 
 was in this state when he arrived at home. It was 
 just after twilight. 
 
 " There now ! Father's come !" It was the voice 
 of one of his children, and the tones had in them 
 a threat and a warning. 
 
 "I dont care," was the rough, defiant answer.
 
 12 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 " He '11 make you care !" 
 
 " No he won't !" 
 
 " John ! Eobert ! stop this instant !" It was the 
 mother's voice, shrill and jarring. " I won't have 
 your everlasting contention in the house." At this 
 moment, Mrs. Lyon saw her husband; and she 
 went on : "If your father don't do something to 
 put an end to this quarrelling, I'll go off somewhere. 
 I'd rather live in Bedlam !" 
 
 "What a transition for the young convert ! What 
 a fiery test of his new life ! The tranquil move 
 ment of his sweet emotions was checked, and all 
 the elements of feeling shocked by the sudden jar. 
 
 " John ! Robert !" Mr. Lyon spoke angrily, for it 
 was as if a sharp spear had pricked him. And he 
 moved towards the boys with an uplifted hand. 
 
 " From death unto life." Was it a mocking 
 fiend, or a loving angel, who flung the words into 
 his mind ? No matter. The ministry was good. 
 The excited father checked himself, and his hand 
 fell, nerveless, by his side. 
 
 " John," he spoke now more in sorrow than in 
 anger, " go into the sitting-room, and you, Robert, 
 remain here. Children who quarrel must be kept 
 apart,"
 
 FKOM DEATH UNTO LIFE. 13 
 
 The boys looked curiously at their father, and 
 John obeyed with unusual promptness. There was 
 a new power in Mr. Lyon's voice that left no motion 
 of resistance in the lad's mind. 
 
 "Did you order that sugar and butter sent home, 
 as I told you ? It hasn't come." 
 
 Mrs. Lyon spoke fretfully, and looked at her hus 
 band with contracting brows. 
 
 " No ! I declare I forgot all about it," answered 
 the husband. 
 
 "Forgot! Humph! Well, I can tell you; if 
 you want butter on your bread, and sugar in your 
 tea, you've got to go after them now." 
 
 Mr. Lyon was not, naturally, of a very amiable 
 disposition, and had never taken, with a good grace, 
 any matrimonial reactions of this kind; so the 
 temptation to answer in as bad a spirit was instant 
 and almost overpowering." 
 
 " From death unto life." The thought was just 
 in season. He did not speak, but turned from his 
 companion, and, taking up his hat, went out. In 
 about ten minutes he came back with the needed 
 articles. 
 
 " You might have saved yourself that trouble," 
 almost growled Mrs. Lyon. Now, this was too
 
 14: STEPS TOWAKDS HEAVEN. 
 
 bad; and the repressed feelings of her husband 
 came near blazing out. But, he remembered the 
 prayer-meetings, and his profession, and so strove 
 manfully with the enemies of his peace, that were 
 rushing down upon him like a flood. 
 
 At supper time there was little else but discord. 
 The children were, as usual, restless, dissatisfied, 
 and contentious, and their overtried mother 
 weary in heart and limb as fretful as she could 
 be. Nor did Mr. Lyon succeed in keeping his own 
 feelings all the while in check. More than once } 
 the inward pressure proved too strong for the out 
 ward resistance ; and words were said, and acts 
 done, that were not in harmony with Christian 
 patience. 
 
 It is not surprising, that tempting spirits seized 
 upon these occasions, to throw doubt into the young 
 convert's mind, and to suggest that religion was 
 but a cunningly devised fable, and professors only 
 self-deceived, or hypocrites. But there were re 
 mains of heavenly truths and holy states, stored up 
 in his mind by a good mother, in the innocent days 
 of childhood and youth, and these were now con 
 victions that no fallacious argument, or false sug 
 gestions, could obliterate. Mr. Lyon knew that
 
 FROM DEATH UNTO LIFE. 15 
 
 there was such a thing as spiritual life, and that, 
 when it was born in a human soul, it had power to 
 hold all hell in subjection. And so, though de 
 spised, sad and discouraged, he did not abandon 
 the ground he had taken. 
 
 After the supper things were removed, the chil 
 dren in bed, the sitting room put in order, and the 
 lamp placed on the centre table, near which Mrs. 
 Lyon sat down with her basket of work, the quieter 
 sphere of the room gave opportunity for the feel 
 ings of Mr. Lyon to subside into a more tranquil 
 state. He took the unused family Bible, and 
 laying it upon the centre table, opened it, and after 
 turning over the leaves, commenced reading a 
 chapter aloud. 
 
 Mrs. Lyon looked up at her husband curiously, 
 when she saw him take up the family Bible and 
 bring it to the table at which she was sitting. 
 "What does this mean?" she said to herself. 
 "When he commenced reading, curiosity gave way to 
 surprise. Mr. Lyon read in a low, impressive voice, 
 the fifth, sixth, and seventh chapters of Matthew, 
 that portion of the Divine "Word which is so full of 
 incentives to right living. As he read, the precepts 
 of Him who spake as never man spake, sunk deep
 
 16 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 ly into the hearts of the husband and wife. Into 
 the heart of the husband, becaube, like a thirsty 
 traveller in a burning desert, he was in search of 
 living waters into the heart of his wife, because 
 the very novelty of the occasion gave her mind a 
 certain degree of preparation. 
 
 After reading these three chapters, Mr. Lyon sat 
 silent and thoughtful for some time. 
 
 "There is one thing very certain," said he, at 
 length, " if any man wishes to get to heaven, he 
 must live right in the world." 
 
 Mr. Lyon did not address these words to his 
 wife, but uttered them as if speaking to himself. 
 She said nothing, and he remained with his eyes 
 upon the floor. 
 
 "Mary." Mrs. Lyon glanced across the table, 
 and met the gaze of her husband. The tone of his 
 voice, and the expression of his eyes, were per 
 ceived by her as altogether different from anything 
 she had before observed. 
 
 "Mary, I was at a prayer-meeting this afternoon." 
 
 " "Were you ?" Mrs. Lyon seemed interested. 
 
 " Yes, Mary." The firmness of tone gave way to 
 a perceptible tremor. " And I think or hope 
 that I am a changed man."
 
 FROM DEATH UNTO LIFE. 17 
 
 A flush of sudden feeling came warmly over the 
 face of Mrs. Lyon. 
 
 " Life in this world is short, at best, and very 
 uncertain, Mary, and to make timely preparation 
 for the next is only the dictate of common pru 
 dence." 
 
 Mrs. Lyon was wholly unprepared for this, and, 
 therefore, her mind was thrown into some confu 
 sion. But having broken the ice, so to speak, her 
 husband regained his self-possession, as well as 
 mental clearness. Meeting with no response, he 
 continued : 
 
 " I think, Mary, that I am entirely in earnest 
 about this matter. I wish to lead the life of 
 heaven." 
 
 Now, Mrs. Lyon had received early religious 
 instruction ; and up to the time of her marriage, 
 had been a regular attendant at church. Since her 
 marriage, in consequence of her husband's indiffer 
 ence to spiritual things, she had fallen into a like 
 neglect with him. It was rarely that she attended 
 worship on the Sabbath ; and her children were 
 growing up with but few good impressions. Many 
 times had she thought of this; and when early 
 states of mind returned, and she contrasted hei
 
 18 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 own childhood with that of her little ones, painful 
 condemnation would oppress her spirit. "But 
 what can I do ?" she would sometimes say to her 
 self. " My husband has no regard for religion." It 
 was but an excuse ; yet the excuse prevailed. No 
 wonder this unlocked for announcement bewildered 
 her. She did not answer still ; but as Mr. Lyon 
 looked into her eyes, he saw tears filling into them. 
 
 " Shall we walk on in this better way, side by 
 side, Mary ?" Mr. Lyon spoke with great tender 
 ness, reaching his hand across the table towards 
 the hand of his wife. There was an eager assenting 
 clasp a sudden bowing of the head a rUn of 
 tears. 
 
 " God helping us, we will lead anew life," said Mr. 
 Lyon, breaking in, at last, upon the deep silence. 
 
 "There is no help but in Him." Mrs. Lyon 
 looked up, the light of a new hope shining through 
 her tears. "And as I say this," she added, " I 
 remember the words of a preacher, uttered 
 many years ago. They were 'In every good 
 desire God is present, and into every good purpose 
 He flows with strength.' Not in our own strength 
 can we walk in this new way for it is a heavenly 
 way, and human power is but weakness there. For
 
 FROM DEATH UNTO LIFE. 19 
 
 a divine life, there must be divine strength and 
 this is the gift of God alone." 
 
 Mr. Lyon looked into the face of his wife, won 
 deringlj, as she talked. 
 
 " I did not know, Mary, that you had religious 
 views like these," he said. " I thought you were 
 wholly indifferent on the subject." 
 
 "No, Henry, not indifferent by any means," 
 she answered, with much earnestness. " My 
 mother was a pious woman, and talked with me 
 about God and heaven, and Christian duty, always. 
 But you never seemed to care about these things ; 
 and, gradually, I have fallen into coldness. It 
 seemed to me that the way was too narrow and 
 difficult to walk in alone ; and so, I have suffered 
 myself to take the broad, and what appeared the 
 easier, road through the world. But it has not 
 been an easy way in any respect. Something is 
 always getting wrong, and the ground I tread upon 
 each day is rough or miry, though, when seen a 
 little in the distance, it looked smooth and firm as 
 a well beaten path. I am sadly conscious of a 
 steadily growing moral deterioration. I am not 
 as patient, and hopeful, as forbearing and self-deny 
 ing, as I once was. My temper is less under con-
 
 20 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 trol. I have wicked, revengeful, and rebellious 
 thoughts. And, most of the time, I am very unhap 
 py. Oh, dear! I shudder often at the image Ox 
 myself, which seems held up before me as in a 
 mirror. God help me, Henry! I am at times, 
 almost in despair !" 
 
 And Mrs. Lyon hid her face in her hands, and 
 wept violently. 
 
 "Let me repeat your own words, dear Mary," 
 said her husband. " ' For a divine life there must 
 be divine strength, and "this is the gift of God 
 alone.' Shall we not pray for it here, and now ? His 
 words are, Ask, and ye shall receive. Seek, and ye 
 shall find. Knock, and it shall oe opened unto you." 
 
 " Here, and now," was the low-murmured answer 
 of Mrs. Lyon. 
 
 And so they knelt tfiere together, in this first 
 consecration of themselves ; and the husband prayed 
 aloud for wisdom to see the right way, and strength 
 to walk therein. 
 
 When they arose from prayer, a deep tranquil- 
 iity had settled upon their spirits, and their minds 
 seemed elevated into a clearer-seeing region. From 
 the gloom of despondency they had passed into the 
 light of heavenly confidence.
 
 FROM DEATH UNTO LIFE. 21 
 
 "The language of divine truth is exceedingly 
 plain," said Mr. Lyon, as they sat together. " Ask, 
 and ye shall receive. We have asked of our Father 
 in heaven to teach us how to live aright, and he will 
 teach us, and lead us in true paths, if we submit as 
 little children. For this we have a thousand assur 
 ances, scattered everywhere through the Bible." 
 
 " Yes, everywhere," was the subdued answer. 
 " And memory is pointing to precious texts written 
 down upon her tablets long ago. ' Come unto me 
 all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will 
 give you rest? Does not this seem as if spoken to 
 us now, Henry ? It was printed on the first ticket 
 I received in Sunday-school, and is as fresh in my 
 thought now as then. Oh ! is it not full of comfort 
 and hope ? * Come unto me? 'I will give you rest.' 
 There is no qualification ; no discrimination. All 
 who labor and are heavy laden." 
 
 " God has changed our hearts," said Mr. Lyon, 
 warming into enthusiasm. "We have passed from 
 death into life. We are dead to sin, and alive in 
 Christ Jesus our Lord. Blessed be God for his 
 divine grace, that cleanses from all defilements !" . 
 
 "From death unto life?" Mrs. Lyon looked 
 almost soberly into her husband's face.
 
 22 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 "Is it not so?" he questioned. "Dead to sin, 
 and alive to righteousness ?" 
 
 " God grant that it may be so," was the quiet 
 answer. " But the hard duties of life are before us, 
 Henry ; and more " She paused, with almost a 
 sad countenance. 
 
 " More ? Say on, Mary." 
 
 " "We may be dead to sin. I pray heaven that it 
 be so. But, whatever of new life may be born 
 within us from God, must be feeble as the babe's 
 life. And, with only this feeble life to sustain us, 
 we have to do battle with the strong man of 
 evil." 
 
 " But God is on our side. In his strength we can 
 overcome all our enemies," said Mr. Lyon. 
 
 "If we will but look to Him in the hour of 
 temptation." 
 
 " We must we must. There is no other hope." 
 Mr. Lyon's enthusiasm was dying down. He saw 
 that there was not only work, but a battle before 
 them, and that they must toil and fight, if they 
 would come off victorious. 
 
 On the next morning, the calm, sober, earnest 
 manner of Mr. and Mrs. Lyon had a marked effect 
 upon their badly trained children, who at once
 
 FEOM DEATH UNTO LIFE. 23 
 
 observed the change, and waited, curiously, to see 
 just what it meant. 
 
 " Will you hand me the Bible, Mary ?" said Mr. 
 Lyon, speaking to his wife, as she came into the 
 room where he was sitting with the children, to say 
 that breakfast was ready. 
 
 She looked at him for a moment, almost wonder- 
 ingly, and then, with an assenting smile, lifted the 
 family Bible from a stand, and placing it before 
 him, sat down by his side. The children gazed, 
 curiously, at both their father and mother, and 
 waited in silence for what was to succeed. A 
 chapter was read, in a low, serious voice. Then the 
 father and mother knelt down, and the children did 
 likewise. The prayer was brief, just covering the 
 needs and experience of the petitioner. There were 
 no vain words, nor any pompous phraseology ; but 
 a humble directness, that showed an earnest heart. 
 
 For the first time, in months, Mr. and Mrs. Lyop 
 enjoyed a quiet, orderly meal. The eifect of this 
 unlooked-for act of worship, was to subdue the chil 
 dren's minds, as well as to excite their curiosity ; 
 and as the parents maintained a calm, rather sober 
 demeanor, they yielded to the new influence, and 
 took an altogether improved exterior.
 
 24r 6TEP8 TOWAKD8 HEAVEN. 
 
 " There is a wonderful power in divine grace," 
 said Mr. Lyon, as he was parting with his wife, 
 after breakfast. " It has subdued even these almos 
 rngovernable children." He spoke with a glow of, 
 enthusiasm. 
 
 Mrs. Lyon did not respond ; but looked into hi 
 face earnestly, and with eyes that had in them a 
 shade of sadness. 
 
 " Is the whispering Doubter already at your ear, 
 Mary ?" The husband spoke almost in reproof. 
 
 " It is he that overcometh, who shall not be hurt 
 of the second death," said Mrs. Lyon. 
 
 " Through God strengthening me, I can do all 
 things." Mr. Lyon spoke with renewed enthu 
 siasm. 
 
 A faint smile went over the face of his wife. 
 
 " Is it not so ? Have we not the sure word of 
 promise ?" 
 
 "Yes, and I believe it," was the low, sober, 
 almost sad response. 
 
 "Then why are you cast down, Mary? Have 
 faith in God. Trust him look to him. He is 
 stronger than all our enemies." 
 
 "All this is well to be said, Henry; for it is 
 true, and gives strength and hope. But Christian
 
 FEOM DEATH UNTO LIFE. 25 
 
 graces are given, not as ornaments, but as tools for 
 work, and armor for battle. Religion is life that 
 is, a good life ; and the life cannot be good, unless 
 the acts are good. And now abideth faith, hope, 
 and charity, these three ; but the greatest of these 
 is charity. Faith is idle, and hope vain, unless they 
 subside in charity. So I read the divine law." 
 
 " Look up, Mary. Pray for strengtli pray with 
 out ceasing," said Mr. Lyon encouragingly. " God 
 will give you strength for duty." 
 
 u I must watch, and work, and guard, as well as 
 pray," was answered. " There will be sudden as 
 saults upon my patience, and untimely demands 
 on my discretion. In a moment of weariness, or 
 exhaustion, sharp provocations to anger will come. 
 When thought acts feebly, because both mind and 
 body are overstrained, there will arise some press 
 ing need for wisdom and prudence. Can I hope 
 always to be patient and discreet, wise and pru 
 dent? No, Henry; that is impossible. But, God 
 helping me, I will do my best. I cannot rise into 
 these new-born ecstasies. I do not see the Chris 
 tian life as one of undiminished sunshine and 
 heavenly tranquillity. There must be conquest, 
 
 ere smiling peace is born ; there must be night, ere 
 2
 
 26 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN 
 
 the glad morning breaks ; labor, before rest. WeU 
 done good and faithful SERVANT, are the words of 
 welcome into heaven." 
 
 " God will help you, Mary," was Mr. Lyon's 
 softened reply. " I see that you are indeed in ear 
 nest ; that you mean to begin right. Let me say 
 this to encourage you it comes but now into my 
 thought. After every conquest, will come a state 
 of peace ; after every night of fear and doubt, a 
 sunny morning ; after every period of labor, rest. 
 And so, with the daily trial, will come the daily 
 blessing." 
 
 "Thank you, dear husband," said Mrs. Lyon, a 
 gleam of light shooting across her face ; " I just 
 needed that. ISTow I see clearer. Now I feel a 
 higher strength." 
 
 They parted for the day. We cannot follow 
 them through its varied scenes, nor show how their 
 new-born faith was tried. They had helped each 
 other by mutual suggestions, and did not, therefore, 
 go into the new life-battle with any vain confi 
 dence. If God gave the power to fight against 
 evil, they saw that they must use it as if it were 
 their own; that a change of purpose was not a 
 change in any of the laws of the seul's being. The
 
 FROM DEATH UNTO LIFE. 27 
 
 individual must overcome, if he would triumph. 
 All that God did for him was to supply proof- 
 armor, a sword, and strength. Beyond that, all 
 rested with himself. There was hope for them ; as 
 there is for all who see the way clearly, and are in 
 earnest to walk therein. 
 
 Not light had been the trials, nor feeble the as 
 saults of evil, which Mr. Lyon endured through 
 the day, and when he turned his steps homeward 
 at its close, he was in a soberer mood than when he 
 left the prayer-meeting on the evening before. 
 Husband and wife looked into each other's faces 
 earnestly when they met. Faint smiles, that soon 
 faded, played about their quiet lips. But there 
 were deep meanings in their eyes, that seemed to 
 have grown clearer and calmer. Mr. Lyon did not 
 find a storm, nor even the evidences of a storm. 
 Instead of being engaged in quarrelling, John was 
 doing something for his mother, and Kobert sat 
 reading. There was an unusual stillness in the 
 house, and evidences of a new order of things all 
 around. A neater set tea-table he had not seen for 
 a long time than the one he found in the little 
 dining-room, nor had his food tasted so sweet for 
 years.
 
 28 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 After the children were in bed, and the father 
 and mother were alone together again, Mr. Lyon 
 leaned across the little centre-table on which the 
 lamp had "been placed, and looked steadily into the 
 face of his wife, who sat on the other side. 
 
 " How has the day passed, Mary ?" he asked. 
 
 Mrs. Lyon did not smile, as she looked up and 
 met her husband's eyes. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Better than I had hoped; yet I cannot say 
 well," she answered, soberly. 
 
 " I can see the evidences of a great and a good 
 work, well begun," was the encouraging answer of 
 Mr. Lyon. "How singularly quiet and readily 
 obedient the children were. The mother's hand is 
 in this." 
 
 " You have seen them in their best condition," 
 Mrs. Lyon replied. " It has not been so through 
 all the day. I have had to watch them with the 
 closest care, and to judge of them and between 
 them, when it seemed as if my over-tried spirit was 
 losing its power to see and to act. I have learned 
 one good lesson in the trial. There must be self- 
 control and self-conquest, before we can hope to sub 
 due evil in others. Just in the degree that I was
 
 FROM DEATH UNTO LIFE. 29 
 
 able to control myself, was I able to govern the 
 children, and to subdue them to my will. But, if 
 I spoke with the slightest sign of anger, my words 
 seemed lost in the empty air." 
 
 " Then there has been a double victory over the 
 powers of evil," said Mr. Lyon, with a smile of 
 pleasure glowing in his face. " A victory on the 
 battle field of your own heart, and a victory in the 
 strife with our children." 
 
 "I can scarcely call it a victory in my own 
 case," was answered. " I was only not driven from 
 the field." 
 
 It was a long time since, in the eyes of Mr. Lyon, 
 the face of his wife had worn an aspect so pleasing as 
 now. He gazed upon it in almost loving wonder. 
 "Are you discouraged, Mary ?" he asked. 
 
 " Discouraged ? Oh, no !" Her countenance 
 brightened suddenly. " Do you think I have forgot 
 ten the hopeful sentence you gave me this morning. 
 ' After every conquest will come a state of peace 
 after every night of doubt and fear, a sunny morn 
 ing after every period of labor, rest. And so, 
 with the daily trial will come the daily blessing.' 
 No, no ; and now, dear husband ! after this brief 
 period of strife, darkness, and labor, I have a mea
 
 30 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 sure of tranquillity, light, and rest. The daily trial 
 is past, and I have the blessing." 
 
 "And the blessing is worth all that it has cost," 
 said Mr. Lyon. 
 
 "All, and more than all," she quickly answered. 
 " This, Henry, is, indeed, the better way, and my 
 heart is full of thankfulness, that our feet have 
 turned aside and entered its narrow bounds. And 
 it is easier to walk herein than I had believed. We 
 have but to make the effort to move forward, and 
 God gives instant strength. The lion standing with 
 fierce aspect a little in the distance, terrifies us 
 with his threatening roar ; but as we approach, 
 putting our confidence in Heaven, we see the chain 
 that holds him, powerless for harm. If some enemy 
 to our peace make a sudden and malignant assault, 
 we have but to lift the sword-bearing arm, and 
 more than a giant's strength flows in from heaven. 
 It is not a vain thing to put our trust in God. But, 
 tell me of your day's experiences, Henry. How 
 has this new life sustained you ?" 
 
 The eyes of Mr. Lyon fell slowly to the floor : a 
 shadow dimmed his face ; a sigh troubled his 
 bosom. 
 
 " I am afraid, Mary," he answered, after some
 
 FROM DEATH UNTO LIFE. 31 
 
 moments, that, but, for your more practical view., 
 of this question of religion, I should be lower down 
 in the valley of discouragement than I am now. I 
 came home last evening, in a kind of ecstatic condi 
 tion of mind, and with only vague notions touching 
 the new life I had resolved to lead. The first 
 shock of our disorderly home staggered me. The 
 transition of feeling was from glowing heat to sud 
 den cold. I was bewildered, and, for a time, in 
 almost hopeless discouragement. But, I was really 
 in earnest, and, following the way on which fell 
 some feeble gleams of light, and acting upon some 
 new born impulses from Heaven, I compelled my 
 self to open the long unused Bible, and to read 
 aloud, not knowing how you womd act, or what 
 you would say. Oh, Mary ! When you turned to 
 me in the right spirit, my heart leaped upwards, as 
 if a crushing weight had been suddenly removed. 
 Then, as we conversed, I found your perceptions go 
 ing right down to the bottom of the whole question 
 of religion, as a matter of self-conquest and right 
 living ; and you lifted my reason up into just con 
 clusion. So we helped, and encouraged one an 
 other. I saw, that, if indeed, I had passed, as some 
 Bay, from death unto life, I was not a strong man,
 
 32 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 but, an almost helpless infant, and that growth and 
 development were as necessary to my spiritual 
 manhood, as to the manhood of natural and rational 
 life. All day long I have been thinking over that 
 matter of the new birth, Mary, and I am sure, 
 taking the experiences of this day as conclusive on 
 the subject, that, but for the help you afforded me 
 last night, I should have given way to overwhelm 
 ing doubts. I found, when any evil allurement 
 came, that evil desire was not extinguished ; only, 
 that a desire for the opposite good was born. If 
 you had not helped me to think of the new birth 
 as only the first beginning of a spiritual state, I 
 would have, I fear, abandoned all as a delusion ; for, 
 if I were really a new creature in Christ Jesus if 
 I had passed from death unto life taking these 
 things in their broader meanings how could I still 
 have evil desires ? But light came, and strength 
 with light. If good impulses were very feeble, yet, 
 when I looked up, and made an effort to do right, 
 help came. Sometimes I was taken off my guard, 
 and stricken down in a moment. But, at that 
 point I placed a sentinel. So you see that I have 
 been at work in good earnest though little has 
 been done. I do not feel greatly encouraged ; and
 
 FROM DEATH UNTO LIFE. 35 
 
 yet, hope rests on a strong foundation. Reason ap 
 preciates and judgment approves the mode of 
 regeneration, that seem to me like steps towards a 
 mountain height, or ascending spirals, gradually 
 bearing the soul upwards to heaven." 
 
 " His "Word," said Mrs. Lyon, reverently, as her 
 husband paused, " shall be a lamp unto our feet, 
 and a light unto our path. I think we have begun 
 right. God sees the desire of our hearts, and will 
 
 f o ' 
 
 give us the needed strength in every time of trial. 
 "We will look to him in prayer, and in his Holy 
 Word ; and He will not hide from us the light of 
 his countenance. Your day's experience is like 
 my own ; and if in anything I happened to say, 
 you found strength, I must own that from youi 
 fitly spoken suggestions, came to me a world of aid 
 and comfort. Without them, I think I must have 
 fallen by the way." 
 
 How much depends on a right beginning. We 
 see it in this single day's experience of two who 
 had resolved to lead the life of heaven a life, not 
 of mere feeling, but of doing. Not of pious acts 
 and the formal worship of the sanctuary alone, but 
 a life of daily self-denial and good deeds. They 
 had begun right, adding, to prayer and faith, 
 2*
 
 34 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 effort meeting temptation with the armor on, and 
 battling for the victory. They had, indeed, passed 
 from death unto life ; and though only yet, as it 
 were, babes in Christ, the first fruits of the new 
 birth were plainly visible. Of such is the kingdom 
 of heaven. 
 
 Few of those who begin the Christian pilgrimage 
 in a like spirit ever turn aside, or go back again 
 into their old ways. Every step is an advance in 
 the regenerate life ; every strife with the powers 
 of hell gives strength or victory ; every night of 
 temptation, but precedes the surely coming dawn 
 of a brighter day. Religion, to be of any real use 
 to a man, must come down into all his daily duties, 
 and regulate his actions by a divine standard. It 
 must make him patient, thoughtful of others, self- 
 denying, watchful against evil, and, above all, just 
 in even the smallest things, towards his fellow- 
 man. For, no matter how externally pious a man 
 may be ; no matter how faithfully he may attend 
 upon the ordinances of the church ; if he love not 
 his neighbor, he cannot have God's love in his 
 heart, and all who think and act differently are 
 yielding to a fatal delusion.
 
 AS WE FORGIVE. 35 
 
 II. 
 
 AS WE FOKGIVE. 
 
 " HE must pay it." The voice that said this was 
 firm, and the tone decided. 
 
 " I think he is very poor, Mr. Glenn," answered 
 the collector, who was making his weekly return. 
 
 " No matter ; poor people must pay their debts 
 as well as rich ones. I can't undertake to supply 
 the family of every poor man in the city with 
 shoes. There wouldn't be a pair left for my own 
 children's feet, if I undertook such a piece of 
 Quixotic benevolence." 
 
 And Mr. Glenn smiled a little grimly, as if there 
 were something of humor in the closing sentence. 
 
 " It strikes me that there is an exception in this 
 case," remarked the collector. 
 
 " None at all none at all," replied the dealer in 
 boots and shoes. " Poor people must be honest as 
 well as rich ones, and not buy more than they are
 
 36 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 able to pay for. Horton must settle. There is no 
 use in his trying to shirk out of it." 
 
 " He has been sick." 
 
 " Well, what of that ? Other poor men are not 
 exempt from sickness. It is the common lot. Let 
 him do something, if it is ever so little, and thus 
 show an honest disposition." 
 
 " It is hard to do something with nothing," said 
 the collector. 
 
 " How does he live ? He eats and drinks, doesn't 
 he ?" interrogated Mr. Glenn. 
 
 " I suppose so, and his wife and children also." 
 
 " Does he steal the money he lives on ?" 
 
 " I didn't investigate the case that far," replied 
 the collector, showing a little annoyance. 
 
 " He earns it, no doubt. And there is one thing 
 I have to say in the matter while Horton is in 
 debt he has no right to spend all he earns. He 
 should pay off something, if it is ever so small a 
 portion, of what is due to others. That is being 
 simply honest." 
 
 " He has four little children ; his wife is in bad 
 health, and he is working on three-quarter time. 
 I am sure, Mr. Glenn, that he cannot, as things 
 now are, pay anything on your bill, without actu-
 
 AS WE FOKGIVE. 37 
 
 ally diminishing the supply of food, or being turned 
 out of house and home. 
 
 " Oh ! he pays his rent, then, does he ?" 
 
 " He said that his landlord was a very close man, 
 and required the rent weekly. That he had got a 
 little behindhand with him, and was compelled not 
 only to pay up the current rent, but a certain sum 
 on what was due, at the same time, or have his 
 things put into the street." 
 
 " I see. He will pay only on compulsion. If 
 that is his game, we will accommodate him. Just 
 call and say, that unless he shows some disposition 
 to settle, that I will send a constable after him." 
 
 " I wouldn't take that course, Mr. Glenn. His 
 intentions are honest, I am certain. But things 
 have gone wrong with him, and he is very much 
 under the weather." 
 
 " Good intentions don't save any one. There 
 must be good deeds. Nothing else will pass cur 
 rent here, or hereafter. Let Horton show his 
 honest purpose by beginning to do honest acts. 
 Nothing less will satisfy me. Can't he pay twenty- 
 five cents a week?" 
 
 " He might do so, I presume." 
 
 " Yery well, let him begin at that figure. Tell
 
 38 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 him that so long as he pays twenty-five cents a 
 week, punctually, I will not disturb him ; but on 
 the first failure he may expect to see the constable." 
 
 " I must decline being the bearer of that mes 
 sage," replied the collector. " I would rather pay 
 twenty-five cents a week out of my own pocket, 
 than be your agent in any such business." 
 
 The face of Mr. Glenn grew red with anger, 
 and he said, sharply 
 
 " I want none of your reflections on my acts or 
 purposes. As you have undertaken my collections, 
 I wish the work done as I direct. The responsibil 
 ity rests with me." 
 
 " Take my advice," returned the collector coolly, 
 " and forgive this poor man his debt. It amounts 
 to only seven dollars, and its loss will not deprive 
 you of a single comfort, while the act will relieve 
 him from a heavy burden. lie is honest ; and will 
 pay you, if it is ever in his power, whether you 
 cancel the obligation or not." 
 
 " You are generous with what is not your own," 
 said Glenn, with sarcasm. "Thank you for the 
 suggestion ; but I am not in the habit of trusting 
 people and then forgiving them the debt. That sort 
 of thing doesn't pay."
 
 AS WE FOKGIVE. 39 
 
 " It does in some cases," remarked the collector, 
 speaking partly to himself. 
 
 " It will not pay in this, for I don't mean to try 
 the foolish experiment," answered Glenn. 
 
 Turning towards this hard man, who was a mem 
 ber of one of the churches, the collector who was 
 also a church-member, but of a different stamp 
 looked him steadily in the face for some momenta, 
 and then said 
 
 " When you kneel before God this evening, and, 
 in praying, say over the words, ' Forgive us our 
 debts as we forgive our debtors,' take heed that 
 you are not asking for a curse instead of a blessing. 
 If God forgives you as you now forgive this poor 
 man, the case will not assume a very hopeful as 
 pect. ' But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, 
 neither will your Father forgive your trespasses? 
 The language is not mine : I but recall to your 
 memory the words of eternal truth. Beware, lest, 
 knowing these, you have the greater condemna 
 tion." 
 
 Saying this, the collector turned away, and left 
 Mr Glenn to his own not very pleasant thoughts. 
 
 That evening, in family worship, Mr. Glenn said 
 over the Lord's Prayer. If the collector had beeu
 
 40 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 present, lie would have o'bserved a faltering in the 
 words, " As we forgive our debtors" He had nevei 
 before understood them as now, though he had 
 repeated these words a thousand times since they 
 were taught to him by his mother in childhood 
 All at once they had assumed a new and startling 
 significance. * Forgive us our debts as we forgive 
 our debtors !' Here was no vague petition, but a 
 plain request to be dealt by as the petitioner dealt 
 by his neighbor. ' With what measure ye meet, it 
 shall be measured to you again" The memory of 
 this passage, also, grew quite distinct in the mind 
 of Mr. Glenn, and it seemed also as if spoken 
 aloud in his ears. Conscience was at work, and 
 fear troubling him. 
 
 " "What if my soul should be required of me this 
 night ?" A sudden shiver ran through his nerves 
 as this thought presented itself. 
 
 " God has heard and answered some of my 
 prayers," said Mr. Glenn, as he sat apart from his 
 family, pondering this new aspect of the case. " I 
 asked Him, at the outset of life, to be with me in 
 my incomings and outgoings ; to smile upon my 
 toil, and send the rain of prosperity upon my 
 fields. And he has done so. I have prayed also
 
 AS WE FORGIVE. 4:1 
 
 from childhood, onward to this time, tha; he would 
 forgive me my debts as I forgiven my debtors. 
 Now, have I ever, in my heart, forgiven the man 
 who trespassed against me? or refrained from 
 exacting from a debtor the last farthing, no matter 
 what his needs and circumstances ? Have I re 
 garded my brother in sickness or misfortune ? Has 
 pity touched my soul, when the unhappy debtor 
 has pleaded for respite or forgiveness? Should 
 God answer my oft-repeated prayer in this, will it 
 not be in banishment from his presence?" 
 
 For hours that night, Mr. Glenn lay tossing on 
 his bed, fearing to sleep, lest his awakening should 
 be in another world ; but, wearied nature yielded 
 at last, and then in visions of his bed, he closed up 
 his mortal career, and passed to his final account. 
 But, no " Well done, good and faithful servant 
 greeted him 1" Instead there burned before him in 
 letters of flame, turn which way he would " With 
 what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you 
 again." He closed his eyes " As we forgive our 
 debtors," were gleaming in their place, though he 
 tried to shut out the vision of all things. In terrible 
 anguish he awoke. Again he slept, and the vision 
 was repeated. And once again, ere the day broke.
 
 42 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 Mr. Glenn assembled his household for morning 
 worship as usual ; and read a chapter from the 
 Bible. His voice was low, and humble. The pe 
 tition that followed was brief ; and members of his 
 family noticed, as an unusual thing, that he failed to 
 conclude with the Lord's Prayer. His first act, on 
 going to his store, was to send Mr. Horton, the 
 poor debtor for whom the humane collector had 
 pleaded, a receipt in full, thus cancelling the debt. 
 He felt more comfortable after this ; but still, a 
 weight of concern lay upon his heart. Here was 
 a new reading of the Divine precept, and one that, 
 if accepted, might, he feared, require a degree of 
 sacrifice that, in the present state of his natural af 
 fections, he could not give. The law, as narrowing 
 itself down to his most literal rendering of the text, 
 seemed the hardest in the whole code of Divine 
 precepts. 
 
 But, Mr. Glenn had begun right. If we con 
 strain ourselves to do what we believe the law of 
 God requires, we always gain power over depraving 
 lusts, and selfish affections. "We must fight against 
 the powers of hell, or there will be no conquest. 
 We must put away evil, before angelic loves can 
 flow into our hearts. The case of Mr. Glenn is an
 
 AS WE FOKGIVE. 43 
 
 illustration. The reader has seen how hard and 
 cruel were all his feelings towards his poor debtor. 
 Not a single wave of pity moved over his heart 
 not a pulse of commiseration stirred. It was dif 
 ferent however, after he had so far conquered his 
 Belfish desire for gain, as to cancel the debt. Then 
 pity for Horton began to work in his heart, and 
 draw before his imagination images of sickness, 
 discouragement, privation and suffering. 
 
 " Poor man ! He has had a hard time of it. I 
 am glad that I lifted that burden from his 
 shoulders," he said to himself in this great change 
 of state. 
 
 And now, the current of feeling which was flow 
 ing in the right direction, began to set stronger. 
 Pity is not a mere idler ; but a door of good deeds. 
 Mr. Glenn began to feel an interest in the poor 
 man, which led him to make particular in 
 quiry into his circumstances. He found that 
 help was really needed, and with a cheerful alacri 
 ty that surprised even himself, he reached out his 
 hand to raise up and sustain a weak and falling 
 brother. It was the beginning of a new life for 
 Mr. Glenn, and one in which this small experience 
 showed him were new and higher pleasures than
 
 44 BTEP8 TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 any he had ever known the pleasures that always 
 accompany good deeds lovingly performed. 
 
 Some weeks passed, before he again ventured to 
 say the Lord's Prayer, in family worship. But, 
 when the petition did pass his lips, it was in the 
 humble hope that God would give him that spirit 
 of forgiveness, without which there can be no re 
 mission of sins.
 
 HEAVENLY MINDED. 45 
 
 TIT. 
 HEAYENLY-MIKDED. 
 
 I LISTENED while lie talked in a low, serious, ten 
 der voice. He was speaking of the home in heaven 
 towards which his heart aspired. 
 
 " There will be no more night there, nor chilling 
 winter," he said ; " no more sorrow, no more toil, 
 no more pain ; for God is the light of that world, 
 and he will wipe away all tears from our eyes. 
 How often do I find myself crying out with the 
 Psalmist, < Oh that I had wings like a dove, for 
 then would I fly away, and be at rest !' I grow 
 weary with waiting every day. This world has 
 no attractions to offer my soul. Its atmosphere 
 oppresses me ; its ways are rough to my feet ; its 
 touch chills me. I pray continually, O Lord, hide 
 me under the shadow of thy wings, until the storms 
 of lifa are over ; shelter me from the burning heats ; 
 cover me from the winter's cold."
 
 ^6 STEPS TOWAKDS HEAVEN. 
 
 Aiid tlien lie sang in a sweet, impressive way 
 
 " Jerusalem, my happy home I 
 
 Oh, how I long for thee. 
 When will my sorrows have an end ? 
 Thy joys when shall I see ?'' 
 
 " How heavenly-minded 1" I heard spoken from 
 one to another, in a hushed whisper. 
 
 "He is ripe for the kingdom," was answered 
 back. 
 
 " The world hangs loosely upon him as a worn- 
 out garment, ready to be cast aside when the 
 Master summons him away. God has endowed 
 him with a double portion of his Spirit." 
 
 I walked thoughtfully away when the little com 
 pany separated. " Is it indeed so ?" I questioned 
 with myself. 'Heavenly-minded?' 'Ripe for the 
 kingdom ?' ' A double portion of God's Spirit rest 
 ing upon him?" What is it to be heavenly- 
 minded ? How is a man ripened for the kingdom 
 .of God?" 
 
 I knew a little of the man's past and present. 
 He had not been an earnest worker in the world ; 
 but, rather, an idler and a dreamer. He was some 
 thing of an enthusiast, and had the reputation of
 
 HEAVENLY MINDED. 47 
 
 being " gifted in prayer." He talked much on the 
 subject of religion, and spent a great deal of time 
 in preparing himself for heaven. This preparation 
 consisted, mainly, in pious observances, the reading 
 of religious books, fasting and prayer. In business, 
 lie had not succeeded, because he lacked earnest 
 ness, prudence, and industry. There was, to his 
 perception, a spirit of worldly-mindedness in these, 
 opposed to religion. It was a letting of himself 
 down into carnal things, that were death to the 
 spiritn. Ad so he was very poor, and could sing, 
 and did sing, with feeling 
 
 " No foot of land do I possess, 
 Nor cottage in the wilderness 
 
 A poor, way-faring man. 
 I lodge, awhile, in tents below, 
 Or gladly wander to and fro, 
 
 Till I my Canaan gain." 
 
 And rather took merit to himself for his poverty ; 
 regarding it almost as one of the Christian graces. 
 
 I need hardly say, that the wife of this man was 
 a toiler beyond her strength, and that his children 
 had not received the natural and moral advan- 
 
 
 
 tages that their father might have procured for 
 them, if he had been a worker in the world, instead
 
 48 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 of an enthusiastic dreamer. The burdens of others 
 were made heavier, because he had failed to bear 
 his own allotment; and evil had crept in at the 
 door he was appointed to guard, because he had 
 slept at his post. And yet he was called " heavenly- 
 minded," and ripe for the kingdom. 
 
 As I mused, reason and feeling both demurred. 
 I could see nothing of the spirit of heaven in this ; 
 but only the delusion of an unprofitable servant. 
 To be heavenly-minded, is to be in the love of good 
 deeds ; and every man who, from a religious prin 
 ciple, acts justly and faithfully in all his relations 
 in life, is a doer of good deeds. He only can be 
 come heavenly-minded ; he only can worship God 
 in spirit and in truth. Praying and singing are of 
 no avail, without acting. They may lift the thoughts 
 heavenward; but only as our feet move are we 
 borne thitherward. "We are in the world for work 
 and duty ; and we cannot be righteous, unless we 
 act right towards our fellow-men. Belief in God, 
 and an acknowledgment of his holy precepts, are 
 only as the inception of spiritual life ; true vitality 
 and Christian manhood are the results of right liv 
 ing. It is the good and faithful servant who alone 
 enters into the joy of his Lord ; only he who per
 
 HEOVENLY MINDED. 49 
 
 forms good acts to the children of men is ac 
 cepted. 
 
 It is easier to pray than to work ; easier to be 
 lieve a certain formula, than to practise self-denial ; 
 easier to permit the feelings to lapse sweetly away 
 under the influence of tranquillizing music, than to 
 compel self-love to give up its darling scheme. 
 But only in the degree that we overcome the man 
 of sin, who is ever prompting to a disregard of 
 others, that we may get larger worldly benefits 
 and increased natural enjoyments, do we receive 
 true spiritual life, and advance in the way of regen 
 eration. To rest a hope of heaven on any other 
 ground, is a most fatal delusion.
 
 50 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 IY. 
 
 WHEAT OR TARES. 
 
 " WHEAT or tares which are you sowing, Fanny, 
 dear, in the mind of this sweet little fellow ?" said 
 Uncle Lincoln to his niece, Mrs. Howard, as he 
 lifted a child not yet beyond his fourth summer 
 upon his knee, and laid one of his hands amid the 
 golden curls that fell about his neck, and clustered 
 above his snowy temples. 
 
 "Wheat, I trust, Uncle Lincoln," replied Mrs. 
 Howard, smiling, yet serious. " It is the enemy 
 who sows tares and I am his mother." 
 
 There was a glow of proud feeling in the coun 
 tenance of Mrs. Howard, as she said, "I am his 
 mother." 
 
 It was Mr. Lincoln's first visit to his niece since 
 her marriage and removal to the city, some hun 
 dreds of miles away from her old home. 
 
 " Even a mother's hand may sow tares," said the
 
 WHEAT OK TARES. 51 
 
 old gentleman. " I have seen it done many times. 
 Not of design, but in thoughtless inattention to 
 the quality of the seed she holds in her hand. The 
 enemy mixes tares with the wheat, quite as often 
 as he scatters evil seed. The husbandman must 
 not only watch his fields by night and by day, but 
 also the repositories of his grain, lest the enemy 
 cause him to sow tares as well as wheat upon his 
 own fruitful ground." 
 
 " Willie," said Mrs. Howard, speaking to her little 
 boy about ten minutes afterwards, " don't upset my 
 work-basket. Stop ! Stop, I say, you little rogue !" 
 
 Seeing that the wayward child did not mean to 
 heed her words, the mother started forwards, but 
 not in time to prevent the spools of cotton, scissors, 
 needles, emery-cushion, etc., from being scattered 
 about the floor. 
 
 Willie laughed in great glee at his exploit, while 
 Mrs. Howard gathered up the contents of the 
 work-basket, which she now placed on a shelf 
 above the reach of her mischievous boy. Then 
 she shook her finger at him in mock resentment, 
 saying 
 
 "You little sinner! If you do that again, I'H 
 send you off with the milkman."
 
 52 BTEPB TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 " Wheat or tares, Fanny ?" Uncle Lincoln 
 looked sober! y at his niece. 
 
 " Neither," replied Mrs. Howard, smiling 
 
 gayly. 
 
 " Tares," said Uncle Lincoln, emphatically. 
 
 " Nonsense, uncle !" 
 
 " The tares of disobedience, Fanny. You have 
 planted the seed, and it has already taken root. 
 Nothing will choke out the wheat sooner. The 
 tares of falsehood you also threw in upon the 
 newly-broken soil. What are you thinking about, 
 my child ?" 
 
 " The tares of falsehood, Uncle Lincoln ! What 
 are you thinking about?" said Mrs. Howard, in 
 real surprise. 
 
 " Did you not say that you would send him off 
 with the milkman if he did so again ? I wonder if 
 he believed you ?" 
 
 " Of course he did not." 
 
 "Then," said Uncle Lincoln, "he has already 
 discovered that his mother makes but light account 
 of truth. Will his mother be surprised if he should 
 grow to set small value upon his word ?" 
 
 " You treat the matter too seriously, uncle. He 
 knows that I am only playing with him."
 
 WHEAT OK TARES. 3 
 
 " He knows that you are telling him what is not 
 true," replied Mr. Lincoln. 
 
 " It was only in sport," said Fanny, persistently. 
 
 " But in sport with sharp-edged instruments 
 playing with deadly poisons." The old gentleman 
 looked and spoke with the seriousness that oppres 
 sed his feelings. " Fanny ! Fanny ! Truth and 
 obedience are good seeds ; falsehood and disobedi 
 ence are tares from the Evil One. Whatever you 
 plant in the garden of your child's mind will grow, 
 and the harvest will be wheat or tares, just as 
 you have sown." 
 
 Mrs. Howard did not reply, but her countenance 
 took on a sober cast. 
 
 "Willie," said she, a few minutes afterwards, 
 " go down to Jane and tell her to bring me a glass 
 of water." 
 
 Willie, who was amusing himself with some 
 pictures, looked up on hearing his name. But as 
 he did not feel like going off to the kitchen, he 
 made no response, and let his eyes return to the 
 pictures, in which he had become interested. 
 
 "Willie (Mrs. Howard spoke with decision), 
 " did you hear me ?" 
 
 " I don't want to go," answered Willie.
 
 54: STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 " Go this minute !" 
 
 " I'm afraid." 
 
 " Go, I say !" 
 
 " I'm afraid." 
 
 " Afraid of what ?" inquired the mother. 
 
 " Afraid of the cat." 
 
 " No, you are not. The cat never hurt you, nor 
 any body else." 
 
 "I'm afraid of the milkman. You said he 
 should carry me off." 
 
 "The milkman is not down stairs," said Mrs. 
 Howard, her face beginning to crimson ; " he only 
 comes in the morning." 
 
 " Yes, he is. I heard his wagon a little while 
 ago, and he's talking with Jane now. Don't you 
 hear him ?" the little fellow put on, with remark 
 able skill, all the semblances of truth in his tone 
 and expression. 
 
 Mrs. Howard did not look towards her uncle ; 
 she was afraid to do that. 
 
 "Willie," (the mother spoke very seriously), 
 " you know the milkman is not down stairs ; and 
 you know that you are not afraid of the cat. 
 "What you have said, therefore, is not true ; and 
 it is wicked to utter a falsehood."
 
 WHEAT OK TAKES. 55 
 
 " Ho ! ho !" laughed out the bright-eyed little 
 fellow, evidently amused at his own sharpness, 
 " then you're wicked, for you tell what is not true 
 every day." 
 
 "Willie!" 
 
 " The milkman hasn't carried me off yet !" 
 
 There was a world of meaning in "Willie's coun 
 tenance and voice. 
 
 You hav'n't whipped me for throwing my cap 
 out of the window." 
 
 "Willie!" ejaculated the astonished mother. 
 
 "D'ye see that?" and the young rebel drew 
 from his apron pocket a fine mosaic breast-pin, 
 which he had positively been forbidden to touch, 
 and held it up with a look of mingled triumph and 
 defiance. 
 
 " You little wretch 1" exclaimed Mrs. Howard ; 
 " this is going too far !" and springing towards her 
 boy, she grappled him in her arms, and fled with 
 him, struggling from the room. 
 
 It was a quarter of an hour before she returned, 
 alone, to the apartment where she had left her 
 uncle. Her face was sober, and her eyes betrayed 
 recent tears. 
 
 "Wheat or tares, Fanny?" said the old gentle-
 
 56 STEPS TOWARDS IIEAVEN. 
 
 man, in kind but earnest tones, as his niece came 
 back. 
 
 " Tares," was the half-mournful response. 
 
 " Wheat were better, Fanny." 
 
 " I see it, uncle." 
 
 And you will look well in future to the seed in 
 your hand, ere you scatter it upon the heart of 
 your child." 
 
 " God helping me, I will, dear uncle." 
 
 " Remember, Fanny," said Mr. Lincoln, " that 
 truth and obedience are good seed. Plant them, 
 and the harvest-time will come in blessing. As a 
 Christian mother, this is one of your highest and 
 most sacred duties. God has given you a child 
 that you may raise him for heaven ; and he has 
 furnished you with an abundant supply of the 
 precious seeds of love, truth, tenderness, and mercy 
 to sow in his mind. Oh, scatter them broadcast 
 over the rich soil prepared to receive them, and 
 they will take root, spring up, and bear an abun 
 dance of good fruit in the harvest-time of his life."
 
 16 HE A CHRISTIAN? 
 
 Y. 
 
 IS HE A CHKIST1AK? 
 
 " Is he a Christian ? 
 
 The question reached my ear as I sat conversing 
 with a friend, and I paused in the sentence I was 
 uttering, to note the answer. 
 
 " Oh, yes ; he is a Christian," was replied. 
 
 " I am rejoiced to hear you say so. I was not 
 aware of it before," said the other. 
 
 "Yes ; he has passed from death unto life. Last 
 week, in the joy of his new birth, he united himself 
 to the church, and is now in fellowship with the 
 saints." 
 
 " "What a blessed change !" 
 
 " Blessed, indeed. Another soul saved ; an 
 other added to the great company of those who 
 have washed their robes, and made them white, in 
 the blood of the Lamb. There is joy in heaven on 
 his account." 
 
 3*
 
 58 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 " Of whom are they speaking ?" I asked, turning 
 to my friend. 
 
 " Of Fletcher Gray, I believe," was replied. 
 
 " Few men stood more in need of Christian 
 graces," said I. " If he is, indeed, numbered with 
 the saints, there is cause for rejoicing." 
 
 " By their fruits ye shall know them," responded 
 my friend. " I will believe his claim to the title 
 of Christian, when I see the fruit in good living. 
 If he have truly passed from death unto life, as 
 they say, he will work the works of righteousness. 
 A sweet fountain will not send forth bitter 
 waters." 
 
 My friend but expressed my own sentiments in 
 this, and all like cases. I have learned to put 
 small trust in " profession ;" to look past the Sun 
 day and prayer-meeting piety of people, and to 
 estimate religious quality by the standard of the 
 Apostle James. There must be genuine love of the 
 neighbor, before there can be a love of God ; for 
 neighborly love is the ground in which that higher 
 and purer love takes root. It is all in vain to talk 
 of love as a mere ideal thing. Love is an active 
 principle, and, according to its quality, works. If 
 the love be heavenly, it will show itself in good
 
 18 HE A CHRISTIAN? 59 
 
 deeds to the neighbor ; but, if infernal, in acts of 
 selfishness that disregard the neighbor. 
 
 O O 
 
 "I will observe this Mr. Gray," said I, as I 
 walked homeward from the company, " and see 
 whether the report touching him be trte. If he is, 
 indeed, a ' Christian,' as they affirm, the Chris 
 tian graces of meekness and charity will blossom 
 in his life, and make all the air around him 
 fragrant." 
 
 Opportunity soon came. Fletcher Gray was a 
 storekeeper, and his life in the world was, conse 
 quently, open to the observation of all men. He 
 was likewise a husband and a father. His rela 
 tions were, therefore, of a character to give, daily, 
 a test of his true quality. 
 
 It was only the day after, that I happened to 
 meet Mr. Gray under circumstances favorable to 
 observation. He came into the store of a merchant 
 with whom I was transacting some business, and 
 asked the price of certain goods in the market. I 
 moved aside, and watched him narrowly. There 
 was a marked change in the expression of his 
 countenance and in the tones of his voice. The 
 former had a sober, almost solemn expression ; the 
 latter was subdued, even to plaintiveness. But, ID
 
 60 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 a little while, these peculiarities gradually disap 
 peared, and the aforetime Mr. Gray stood there 
 unchanged unchanged, not only in appearance, 
 but in character. There was nothing of the " yea, 
 yea," and " nay, nay," spirit in his bargain-making, 
 but an eager, wordy effort to gain an advantage in 
 trade. I noticed that, in the face of an assevera 
 tion that only five per cent, over cost was asked for 
 a certain article, he still endeavored to procure it 
 at a lower figure than was named by the seller, and 
 finally crowded him down to the exact cost, know 
 ing, as he did, that the merchant had a large stock 
 on hand and could not well afford to hold it 
 over. 
 
 "He's a sharper !" said the merchant, turning 
 towards me as Gray left the store. 
 
 " He's a Christian, they say," was my quiet re 
 mark. 
 
 "A Christian!" 
 
 " Yes ; don't you know that he has become reli 
 gious, and joined the church?" 
 
 " You're joking !" 
 
 " Not a word of it. Didn't you observe his sub 
 dued, meek aspect, when he came in ?" 
 
 " Why, yes ; now that you refer to it, I do remem-
 
 IS HE A CHRISTIAN? 61 
 
 her a certain peculiarity about him. Become 
 pious ! Joined the church ! Well, I'm sorry !" 
 
 " For what ? i 
 
 "Sorry for the injury he will clo to a good cause* 
 The religion that makes a man a better husband, 
 father, man of business, lawyer, doctor, or preacher, 
 I reverence, for it is genuine, as the lives of those 
 who accept it do testify. But your hypocritical 
 pretenders I scorn and execrate." 
 
 " It is, perhaps, almost too strong language this, 
 as applied to Mr. Gray," said I. 
 
 " What is a hypocrite ?" asked the merchant. 
 
 " A man who puts on the semblance of Christian 
 virtues which he does not possess." 
 
 " And that is what Mr. Gray does when he as 
 sumes to be religious. A true Christian is just. 
 "Was he just to me when he crowded me down in 
 the price of my goods, and robbed me of a living 
 profit, in order that he might secure a double gain ? 
 I think not. There is not even the live and let live 
 principle in that. No no, sir. If he has joined 
 the church, my word for it, there is a black sheep 
 in the fold ; or, I might say, without abuse of lan 
 guage, a wolf therein, disguised in sheep's 
 clothing."
 
 62 STEPS TOWAKD8 HEAVEN. 
 
 " Give the man time," said I. " Old habits of 
 life are strong, you know. In a little while, I trust 
 that he will see clearer, and regulate his life from 
 perceptions of higher truths." 
 
 " I thought his heart was changed," answered 
 the merchant, with some irony in his tones. " That 
 he had been made a new creature." 
 
 I did not care to discuss that point with him, and 
 so merely answered. 
 
 "The beginnings of spiritual life, are as the 
 beginnings of natural life. The babe is born in 
 feebleness, and we must wait through the periods of 
 infancy, childhood, and youth, before we can have 
 the strong man ready for the burden and heat of 
 the day, or full-armed for the battle. If Mr. Gray 
 is in the first effort to lead a Christian life, that is 
 something. He will grow wiser and better in time, 
 I hope." 
 
 " There is vast room for improvement," said the 
 merchant. " In my eyes, he is, at this time, only 
 a hypocritical pretender. I hope, for the sake of 
 the world and the church both, that his new associ 
 ates will make something better out of him." 
 
 I went away, pretty much of the merchant's 
 opinion. My next meeting with Mr. Gray was in
 
 IS HE A CHRISTIAN? 63 
 
 the shop of a mechanic to whom he had sold a bill 
 of goods some months previously. He had called 
 to collect a portion of the amount which remained 
 unpaid. The mechanic was not ready for him. 
 
 "I am sorry, Mr. Gray," he began, with some 
 hesitation of manner. 
 
 " Sorry for what ?" sharply interrupted Mr. 
 Gray. 
 
 " Sorry that I have not the money to settle your 
 bill. I have been disappointed " 
 
 " I don't want that old story. You promised to be 
 ready for me to-day, didn't you ?" And Mr. Gray 
 knit his brows, and looked angry and imperative. 
 
 " Yes, I promised. But " 
 
 " Then keep your promise. No man has a right 
 to break his word. Promises are sacred things, 
 and should be kept religiously." 
 
 " If my customers had kept their promises to me, 
 there would have been no failure in mine to you," 
 answered the poor mechanic. 
 
 " It is of no use to plead other men's failings in 
 justification of your own. You said the bill should 
 be settled to-day ; and I calculated upon it. Now, 
 of all things in the world, I hate trifling. I shall 
 not call again, sir I"
 
 64 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 " If you were to call forty times, and I hadn't 
 the money to settle your account, you would call 
 ,n vain," said the mechanic, showing considerable 
 disturbance of mind. 
 
 " You needn't add insult to wrong." Mr. Gray's 
 countenance reddened, and he looked angry. 
 
 " If there is insult in the case, it is on your part ; 
 not mine," retorted the mechanic, with more feel 
 ing. " I am not a digger of gold out of the earth, 
 nor a coiner of money. I must be paid for my 
 work before I can pay the bills I owe. It was not 
 enough that I told you of the failure of my cus 
 tomers to meet their engagements " 
 
 " You've no business to have such customers " 
 broke in Mr. Gray " No right to take my goods 
 and sell them to men who are not honest enough 
 to pay their bills." 
 
 " One of them is your own son," replied the 
 mechanic, goaded beyond endurance. "Ilis bill 
 is equal to half of yours. I have sent for the 
 amount a great many times, but still he puts me 
 off with excuses. I will send it to you, next time." 
 
 This was thrusting home with a sharp sword, 
 and the vanquished Mr. Gray retreated from the 
 dattle field, bearing a painful wound."
 
 IS TIE A CHRISTIAN? 65 
 
 " That wasn't right in me, I know," said the 
 mechanic, as Gray left his shop. " I'm sorry, now, 
 that I said it. But he pressed me too closely. I 
 am but human." 
 
 "He is a hard, exacting, money-loving man," 
 was my remark. 
 
 " They tell me he has become a Christian," said 
 the mechanic. "Has got religion been con 
 verted. Is that so ?" 
 
 " It is common report ; but I think common report 
 must be in error. St. Paul gives patience, forbear 
 ance, long-suffering, meekness, brotherly kindness, 
 and charity, as some of the Christian graces. I do 
 not see them in this man. Therefore, common 
 report must be in error." 
 
 " I have paid him a good many hundreds of dol 
 lars, since I opened my shop here," said the me 
 chanic, with the manner of one who felt hurt. " If 
 I am a poor, hard-working man, I try to be honest. 
 Sometimes I get a little behind hand, as I am now, 
 because people I work for don't pay up as they 
 should. It happened twice before when I wasn't 
 just square with Mr. Gray, and he pressed down 
 very hard upon me, and talked just as you heard 
 him to-day. He got his money, every dollar of it ;
 
 (56 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 and he will get Iris money now. I did think, know 
 ing that he had joined the church and made a 
 profession of religion, that he would bear - a little 
 patiently with me, this time. That, as he had ob 
 tained forgiveness, as alleged, of his sins towards 
 heaven, he would be merciful to his fellow-man. 
 Ah, well! These things make us very sceptical 
 about the honesty of men who call themselves reli 
 gious. My experience with " professors," has not 
 been very encouraging. As a general thing, I find 
 them quite as greedy of gain as other men. "We 
 outside people of the world get to be very sharp- 
 sighted. When a man sets himself up to be of bet 
 ter quality than we, and calls himself by a name 
 significative of heavenly virtue, we judge him 
 naturally, by his own standard, and watch him 
 very closely. If he remain as hard, as selfish, as 
 exacting, and as eager after money as before, we 
 do not put much faith in his profession, and are 
 very apt to class him with hypocrites. His pray 
 ing, and fine talk about faith, and heavenly love, 
 and being washed from all sin, excite in us con 
 tempt rather than respect. We ask for good works, 
 and are never satisfied with anything else. By 
 their fruits ye shall know them."
 
 is HE A cmrrsTiAN? 67 
 
 On the next Sunday I saw Mr. Gray in church. 
 My eyes were on him when he entered. I noticed 
 that all the lines of his face were drawn down, and 
 that the whole aspect and bearing of the man were 
 solemn and devotional. lie moved to his place 
 w r ith a slow step, his eyes cast to the floor. On 
 taking his seat, he leaned his head on the pew in 
 front of him, and continued for nearly a minute in 
 prayer. During the services I heard his voice in 
 the singing; and through the sermon, he main 
 tained the most fixed attention. It was communion 
 Sabbath ; and he remained, after the congregation 
 was dismissed, to join in the holiest act of worship. 
 
 "Can this man be indeed self-deceived?" I 
 asked myself, as I walked homeward. " Can ho 
 really believe that heaven is to be gained by pious 
 acts alone. That every Sabbath evening he can 
 pitch his tent a day's march nearer heaven, though 
 all the week he have failed in the commonest 
 offices of neighborly love 2" 
 
 It so happened, that I had many opportunities 
 for observing Mr. Gray, who, after joining the 
 church, became an active worker in some of the 
 public and prominent charities of the day. He 
 contributed liberally in many cases, and gave a
 
 68 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 good deal of time to the prosecution of benevolent 
 enterprises, in which men of some position were 
 concerned. But, when I saw him dispute with a 
 poor gardener who had laid sods in his yard, about 
 fifty cents ; take sixpence off of a weary strawberry 
 woman ; or chaffer with his bootblack over an ex 
 tra shilling, I could not think that it was genuine 
 love for his fellow men that prompted his ostenta 
 tious charities. 
 
 In no instance did I find any better estimation of 
 him in business circles; for his religion did not 
 chasten the ardor of his selfish love of advantage in 
 trade ; nor make him more generous, nor more in 
 clined to help or befriend the weak and the needy. 
 Twice I saw his action in the case of unhappy 
 debtors, who had not been successful in business. 
 In each case, his claim was among the smallest ; 
 but he said more unkind things, and was the hard 
 est to satisfy, of any man among the creditors. He 
 assumed dishonest intention at the outset, and 
 made that a plea for the most rigid exactions; 
 covering his own hard selfishness with offensive 
 cant about mercantile honor, Christian integrity, 
 and a religious observance of business contracts. 
 He was the only man among all the creditors, who
 
 IS HE A CHRISTIAN ? 69 
 
 made his church-membership a prominent thing 
 few of them were even church-goers and the only 
 man who did not readily make concessions to the 
 poor, down-trodden debtors. 
 
 " Is he a Christian ?" I asked, as I walked home 
 in some depression of spirits, from the last of these 
 meetings. And I could but answer IsTo for, to be 
 a Christian is to be Christ-like. 
 
 " As ye would that men should do to you, do ye 
 even so to them." This is the divine standard. "Ye 
 must be born again," leaves to us no latitude of in 
 terpretation. There must be a death of the old, 
 natural, selfish loves, and a new birth of spiritual 
 affections. As a man feels, so will he act. If the 
 affections that rule in his heart be divine affections, 
 he will be a lover of others, and a seeker of their 
 good. He will not be a hard, harsh, exacting man 
 in natural things, but kind, forbearing, thoughtful 
 of others, and yielding. In all his dealings with 
 men, his actions will be governed by the heavenly 
 laws of justice and judgment. He will regard the 
 good of his neighbor equally with his own. It is 
 in the world where Christian graces reveal them 
 selves, if they exist at all. Religion is not a mere 
 Sunday affair, but the regulator of a man's conduct
 
 70 8TEP8 TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 among his fellow-men. Unless it does this, it is a 
 false religion, and he who depends upon it for the 
 enjoyment of heavenly felicities in the next life, 
 will find himself in miserable error. Heaven can 
 not be earned by mere acts of piety, for heaven is 
 the complement of all divine affections in the hu 
 man soul ; and a man must come into these must 
 be born into them while on earth, or he can never 
 find an eternal home among the angels of God. 
 Heaven is not gained by doing, but by living.
 
 OF SUCH IS THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN. 
 
 VI. 
 
 OF SUCH IS THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN. 
 
 " HE is a very sick child," said the doctor, in 
 answer to the mother's eager inquiries. 
 
 " Do you think him in danger ?" The mother's 
 face grew white, and her lips quivered. 
 
 The doctor, instead of replying to this question, 
 gave some minute directions about the administra 
 tion of certain medicines, and then turned from the 
 luxurious bed upon which the child lay. 
 
 " How soon will you come again ?" The mother, 
 in her anxiety, caught hold of the doctor's arm, 
 and held him fast. 
 
 " In the course of three or four hours. By that 
 time the action of the medicine will be fully appa 
 rent. Give it punctually, and according to* direc 
 tions." 
 
 " Can't you remain ?" urged the distressed 
 mother, whose fears the doctor's unsatisfactory
 
 72 STEPS TOWAKDS HEAVEN. 
 
 manner had aroused to the highest degree. " Oh, 
 stay with him! There may be changes in an 
 hour that your eyes should see. His life is in your 
 hands, doctor ; his precious life ! Do not leave 
 us!" 
 
 " Not in my hands, but in the hands of Him 
 who holds the issues of life," replied the doctor. 
 " "We are but the instruments of healing." 
 
 " A little longer, doctor ! stay a little longer !" 
 urged the mother, scarcely rising a single degree 
 in her perceptions above that first blind confi 
 dence in the physician's skill. But the doctor 
 said : 
 
 "That is impossible. Duty calls me to other 
 bedsides. There is, but a short distance from here, 
 a poor woman's only child as sick as yours, and as 
 imperatively requiring my utmost skill. I must 
 see it with as little delay as possible." 
 
 A poor woman's child! The mother turned 
 half offended from the physician, and as he with 
 drew, sat down on the bed on which her sick boy 
 lay, and taking one of his hot hands covered it 
 with tears and kisses. 
 
 A poor woman's child ! A washerwoman's, per 
 haps ; or the common, coarse offspring of a mere
 
 OF SUCH IS THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN. 73 
 
 sempstress ; or of a German or Irish woman, living 
 in a garret, amid dirt and disorder ! And, for one 
 such, her physician could leave the pure, sweet 
 infant that lay suffering before her, of more value 
 in her eyes than a thousand poor women's child 
 ren. 
 
 " I couldn't have believed it of him 1" sobbed 
 the mother, in her selfishness and fear. 
 
 From the merchant's luxurious palace, into 
 which disease had stolen on invisible wings, and 
 stricken down the hope and pride of the house, the 
 physician passed, and, in a few minutes, entered 
 one of the meanest-looking houses in the neigh 
 borhood. The rich mother had not been far wrong 
 in her conjecture. This visit was to a washerwo 
 man's child. Up two naked, sand-covered pairs of 
 stairs the doctor went, and pausing at a door in 
 the third story, rapped lightly, and then, without 
 waiting for the door to be opened, lifted the latch, 
 and went in. 
 
 " Oh, doctor ! I'm so glad you have come !" A 
 pale, anxious-looking woman, with soiled and 
 rumpled garments, and uncombed hair, sat hold 
 ing a child in her arms. All of the preceding 
 night, she had held him upon her lap, for he was 
 4
 
 74: STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 too ill to sleep, and cried whenever she laid him 
 upon the bed. 
 
 i How is he this morning ?" inquired the doctor, 
 as he sat down by the poor woman, and looked 
 closely at the sick babe. 
 
 " Not any better. He's had a very bad night." 
 The doctor felt his pulse, examined his skin, 
 noted the character of his respiration, and asked of 
 the mother various questions relating to symptoms 
 all with a carefulness and interest as marked as 
 he had shown at the visit just paid to the child of 
 wealth and luxury. And quite as eagerly did this 
 poor mother watch his countenance, and hang upon 
 his few, unsatisfactory words, as did the mother 
 from whom he had parted a little while before. 
 To her heart, her babe was equally precious. Born 
 though it was in poverty, and nurtured in toil, its 
 presence was Eke sunlight in her humble dwelling, 
 and its cooing voice the music that cheered her 
 labor, and made her half forget the sadness of her 
 recent widowhood. 
 
 " Do you think he will die, doctor !" 
 "While there is life there is hope," said the 
 doctor, evading, with this old phrase, a direct 
 answer.
 
 OF SUCH IS THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN. 75 
 
 " He is very sick ?" The tearful mother still 
 urged for some expression of opinion. 
 
 " He is a sick child. But, we will try the virtue 
 of medicine, and trust in the Great Physician." 
 
 % 
 
 "Won't you come again to-day?" A harder 
 heart than the doctor's could not have resisted that 
 pleading look and tone. 
 
 "Yes; I will be round again in a few hours. 
 In the meantime, give this medicine according to 
 direction." 
 
 Three hours later, the doctor entered the palace- 
 home of the rich mother. There was a troubled 
 look on the face of the servant who admitted him ; 
 but he asked no questions. At the door of the 
 sick chamber he paused a few moments, and 
 listened ; all within was still as death. Then he 
 entered, but so softly, that none seemed to be 
 aware of his presence. Around the bed on which 
 the child lay stood a group of four or five persons, 
 among them a clergyman, who had been sent for in 
 haste, to comfort with words of heavenly import 
 the heart of the mother, about to suffer its greatest 
 earthly sorrow. 
 
 On the babe's ashen face the death-seal was so 
 clearly impressed, that no eyes could be mistaken
 
 76 STEPS TOWARDS HEAT EN. 
 
 *n the sign. Hope was extinguished even in the 
 mother's heart. 
 
 How still it was in that luxurious chamber! 
 Respiration was half suspended. In the presence 
 of the dying babe, all felt a pervading conscious 
 ness of a divine presence. It seemed as if angels 
 were about the child, waiting to bear upwards its 
 pure spirit, just struggling to free itself from mortal 
 investure. All but the mother stood up reverently, 
 yet bending with earnest looks towards the beau 
 tiful babe beautiful still, even though blighted 
 with sickness, but she sat cowering down at the 
 bedside, her arm crushing the pillow on which the 
 child lay, and her white face so full of anguish, 
 that all eyes that looked upon it grew wet with 
 tears. 
 
 Silently the doctor glided in, and made one of 
 the waiting group. The babe's sight was veiled 
 the snowy lids having closed over the blue orbs 
 that danced in light and beauty a few days before. 
 The mouth, which pain had disfigured, was grad 
 ually recovering its sweet expression; and even 
 while the change was passing, the image of a smile 
 left thereon its soft imprint. 
 
 So gradual was the transition so merciful was
 
 OF SUCH IS THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN. 77 
 
 the angel of death in his work of separating from 
 mortal bonds the immortal spirit that none who 
 gazed on the infant knew the precise moment 
 when the heart ceased to beat, and the lungs to 
 respire. 
 
 First to move, in that statue-like group, was the 
 clergyman. He was standing close beside the 
 mother, whose blinding tears hid from her the true 
 aspect of her babe's face. Bending towards her, 
 he said, in a voice low, penetrating, and full of 
 spiritual comfort, 
 
 " For of such is the kingdom of heaven !" 
 
 His words broke the spell. A wild cry from the 
 mother's lips rent the air, and quivering sobs filled 
 the apartment. 
 
 Ended, here, was the physician's work, and so 
 going noiselessly out, he departed, leaving the 
 mourners in their sorrow, and with their dead. 
 His duties were to the living. 
 
 His next visit was to the washerwoman's child. 
 As he opened the door of the humble room he had 
 left a few hours before, he saw the poor mother 
 sitting, as he had last seen her, holding in her arms 
 her sick babe. It needed no second glance to tell 
 him that here, too, the physician's work was done.
 
 78 STEPS TOWAEDS HEAVEN. 
 
 There was no hope in the mother's tearless face ; 
 and no hope on the death-like countenance of the 
 little sufferer. 
 
 Thus alone sat the mother with her dying babe 
 on her lap. There were no friends to condole, no 
 minister of religion to comfort. And yet, in the 
 heart of the rich mother, whose child had just taken 
 its everlasting departure, no purer love found abi 
 ding place; and no sadder grief came with its 
 almost hopeless desolation of spirit, as the babe's 
 eyes closed, and the lips, whose smile of beauty 
 made the heart's daily sunshine, grew rigid in 
 death. 
 
 "It is too late, doctor!" she said, looking up 
 with a stony aspect, and speaking in a voice so 
 calm and cold, that it almost chilled the physician's 
 heart. " He is dying." 
 
 The doctor's work was not all done here. As a 
 physician, his skill was of no further avail ; but 
 humanity had claims upon him. So he waited the 
 issue of the struggle between life and death. It 
 was brief, but not violent. The ministration was 
 quite as merciful as in the former case. Yery 
 gently the spirit passed. There were no convul 
 sions ; no struggles ; no evidences of pain ; and the
 
 OF SUCH IS THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN. 79 
 
 room seemed equally pervaded by angelic pres 
 ence. 
 
 At last it was over, and the mother's face now 
 covered with the first outflowing tears that had 
 found vent for hours, was laid, in sorrow that no 
 words could express, down against the cold face of 
 her child. 
 
 " Of such is the kingdom of heaven !" 
 
 Not formally, nor of previous thought, were the 
 words said. They fell from the doctor's lips almost 
 spontaneously, and in tones as reverent and full of 
 meaning as those in which he had heard the same 
 words spoken a little while before. And they were 
 just as true, in every shade of meaning in this 
 case as in the other. Just as precious was this 
 babe in the sight of heaven ; just as lovingly was it 
 received by angels; just as beautiful now is its 
 celestial home ; just as happy is it on the flowery 
 slopes, and amid the green, sweet places of the gar 
 den of God. 
 
 " Of such is the kingdom of heaven !" Yes, of 
 such. Of the pure and the innocent. Of the child 
 like in spirit. Of those who pass upwards in the 
 innocence of ignorance, as little children; or, in 
 the innocence of wisdom, as right-living men
 
 80 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 and wjmen. It matters not for the external con 
 dition in either case. Only of such the innocent 
 and pure in spirit is the kingdom of heaven, and 
 they are to be found alike in the palace and in the 
 cottage among the rich and among the poor ; for 
 man is not regarded in heaven as to his externals, 
 but as to his internals.
 
 THE HAPPY NEW YEAR. 81 
 
 VII. 
 THE HAPPY NEW YEAE. 
 
 " HAPPY New Year, papa !" The sitting-room 
 doors were thrown open, and a sweet little girl 
 came bounding in. Her cheeks were all a-glow 
 smiles played around her cherry lips her eyes 
 were dancing with sunny light. 
 
 " Happy New Year, dear Papa !" And the next 
 moment she was in her father's lap her small 
 arms clinging around his neck, and her rosy mouth 
 pressed to his. 
 
 " Happy New Year, my sweet one !" responded 
 Mr. Edgar, as he clasped the child fondly to his 
 heart. " May all your New Years be happy," he 
 added, in a low voice, and with a prayer in his 
 heart. 
 
 Little Ellen laid her head in confiding love, 
 against her father's breast, and he bent down his 
 manly cheek until it rested on the soft masses 01 
 her golden hair. 
 
 4*
 
 82 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 To her it was a happy New Year's morning, and 
 the words that fell from her lips were heart echoes. 
 But it was not so to Mr. Edgar. The cares of this 
 world, and the deceitfulness of riches, had, like evil 
 weeds, found a rank growth in his spirit ; while 
 good seeds of truth, which, in earlier life, had sent 
 forth their fresh green blades that lifted themselves 
 in the bright, invigorating sunshine, gave now but 
 feeble promise for the harvest time. 
 
 No, Mr. Edgar was not happy. There was a 
 pressure on his feelings ; an unsatisfied reaching 
 out into the future ; a vague consciousness of ap 
 proaching evil. Yery tenderly he loved his little 
 one ; and as she lay nestling against him, he could 
 not help thinking of the time when he was a child, 
 and when the New Years were happy ones. Ellen 
 loved no place so well as her father's arms. When 
 they were folded tightly around her, she had no 
 thing more to desire; so she lay very still and 
 silent, while the thoughts of her father wandered 
 away from the loving child on his bosom to his 
 own unsatisfied state of mind. 
 
 " For years," he said within himself, " I have 
 been in earnest pursuit of the means of happiness, 
 yet happiness itself seems every year to be still far-
 
 THE HAPPY NEW TEAR. 83 
 
 to* ^ r in the distance. There is something wrong. 
 I cannot be in the true path. My days are busy 
 and restless, my nights burdened with schemes that 
 rarely do more than cheat my glowing fancy. 
 "Wliat is the meaning of this ?" 
 
 And Mr. Edgar fell into a deep revery, from 
 which he was aroused by the voice of his wife, as 
 she laid her hand upon his shoulder. 
 
 " A happy New Year, and many joyful returns !" 
 she said in loving tones, as she pressed her lips to 
 his forehead. 
 
 He did not answer. The tenderly spoken good 
 wishes of his wife fell very gratefully, like refresh 
 ing dew upon his heart ; but he was distinctly 
 conscious of not being happy. 
 
 So far as worldly condition was concerned, Mr 
 Edgar had no cause of mental depression. His 
 business was prosperous under a careful manage 
 ment, and every year he saw himself better off by 
 a few thousands of dollars. Always, however, it 
 must be told, the number fell short of his expecta 
 tions. 
 
 " There is something wrong." Mr. Edgar's 
 thoughts were all running in one direction. A 
 startling truth seemed suddenly to have been re-
 
 84 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 vealed to him, and he felt inclined to look at it in 
 all possible aspects. "Why am I not happy?" 
 That was urging the question home. But the an 
 swer was not given. 
 
 After breakfast, Mr. Edgar left home and went 
 to his store. As he passed along the street, he 
 saw at a window the face of a most lovely child. 
 Her beauty, that had in it something of heavenly 
 innocence, impressed him so deeply, that he turned 
 to gain a second look, and in doing so, his eyes 
 saw on the door of the dwelling the name of 
 Abraham James. There was an instant revulsion of 
 feeling; and for the first time that morning, Mr. 
 Edgar remembered one of the causes of his uncom 
 fortable state of mind. Abraham James was an 
 unfortunate debtor who had failed to meet his 
 obligations, among which were two notes of five 
 hundred dollars each, given to Mr. Edgar. These 
 had been placed by the latter in the hands of his 
 lawyer, with directions to sue them out, and 
 obtain the most that could be realized. Only the 
 day before the last day of the year he had 
 learned that there were two judgments that would 
 take precedence of his, and sweep off a share of 
 the debtor's property. The fact had chafed him
 
 THE HAITY NEW TEAK. 85 
 
 considerably, causing him to indulge in harsh lan 
 guage towards his debtor. This language was not 
 just, as he knew in his heart. But the loss of his 
 money fretted him, and filled him with unkind 
 feelings towards the individual who had occasioned 
 the loss. 
 
 No wonder that Mr. Edgar was unhappy. As 
 he continued on his way, the angry impulse that 
 quickened the blood in his veins, subsided, and 
 through the mist that obscured his mental vision, 
 he saw the bright face of a child, the child of his 
 unfortunate debtor. His own precious one was no 
 lovelier no purer; nor had her lips uttered on 
 that morning in sweeter tones, the words " A 
 happy New Year, papa !" 
 
 How the thought thrilled him ! 
 
 With his face bowed, and his eyes upon the 
 ground, Mr. Edgar walked on. He could not 
 sweep aside the image of that child at the win 
 dow ; nor keep back his thoughts from entering 
 the dwelling where her presence might be the 
 only sunbeam that gave light in its gloomy cham 
 bers. 
 
 "A happy New Year, papa!" Mr. Edgar 
 almost started, for the words had so distinct an
 
 86 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 utterance to his inward ear, that they seemed as 
 if spoken in the ambient air. In fancy, he had 
 seen the troubled debtor, over whom hung many 
 suits, his own among the rest, leaving the chamber 
 where he had passed an almost sleepless night, 
 and coming with slow steps and sad face to the 
 family sitting-room. There, alone, with his face 
 bowed upon his breast in gloomy reverie, Mr. 
 Edgar had seen him ; and while his heart was 
 enlarged with pity and sympathy, the door 
 opened light footsteps moved across the room 
 a child sprang into his arms, and a glad voice 
 exclaimed 
 
 " A happy New Year, papa 1" 
 
 When Mr. Edgar arrived at his store, his feel 
 ings towards Mr. James were very different from 
 what they were on the day previous. All anger 
 all resentment were gone, and kindness had 
 taken their place. What if Mr. James did owe 
 him a thousand dollars ? What if he should lose 
 the whole amount of this indebtedness ? Was the 
 condition of the former so much better than his 
 own, that he would care to change places with 
 him? The veiy idea caused a shudder to run 
 along his nerves.
 
 THE HAPPY NEW YEAB. 87 
 
 "Poor man !" he said to himself, pityingly. 
 
 " What a terrible thing to be thus involved in 
 debt thus crippled, thus driven to the wall. It 
 would kill me ! Men are very cruel to each other, 
 and I am cruel with the rest. What are a thou- 
 send dollars to me, or a thousand dollars to my 
 well-to-do neighbor, compared with the ruin of a 
 helpless fellow-man ! James asked time ; in two 
 years he was sure he could recover himself and 
 make all good. But, with a heartlessness that 
 causes my cheek to burn as I think of it, I 
 answered ' The first loss is always the best loss. 
 I will get what I can, and let the balance go.' The 
 look he then gave me, has troubled my conscience 
 ever since. No wonder it is not a happy New 
 Year." 
 
 Scarcely had Mr. Edgar passed the dwelling of 
 his unfortunate creditor, when the latter, who had 
 been walking the floor of his parlor in a troubled 
 state of mind, came to the window and stood by 
 his child, who was dear to him as a child could be 
 to the heart of a father. 
 
 " Happy New Year, papa I" It was the third 
 time since morning dawn that he had received this 
 greeting from the same sweet lips the third time
 
 88 STEPS TOWAKDS HEAVEN. 
 
 that her kisses were given with the heart- waiinth 
 of childhood's unselfish love. 
 
 Mr. James tried to give back the same glad 
 'greeting, but the words seemed to choke him, and 
 failed in the utterance. As the two stood by the 
 window, the wife and mother came up, and lean 
 ing against her husband, looked forth with a sad 
 heart. Oh no ! it was not a happy new year's 
 morning to them. Long before the dawn of 
 another year, they must go forth from their plea- 
 Bant home ; and both their hearts shrunk back in 
 fear from the dark beyond. 
 
 " Good morning, dear," said Mr. James, soon 
 afterwards, as, with hat, and coat, and muffler on, 
 he stood ready to go forth to meet the business 
 trials of the day. His voice was depressed, and 
 his countenance sad. Mrs. James did not say 
 " Good morning," in turn. But her husband saw 
 the motion of her lips and the tears in her eyes, 
 and he knew what was in her heart. 
 
 The business assigned to that day was a painful 
 one for Mr. James. The only creditor who had 
 commenced a suit was Mr. Edgar, he having de 
 clined entering into any arrangement with the 
 other creditors, coldly saying that, in his opinion,
 
 THE HAPPY NEW TEAK. 89 
 
 " the first loss was always the best loss,' and that 
 extensions were, in most cases, equivalent to the 
 abandonment of a claim. He was willing to take 
 "what the law would give him. Pursuant to this 
 view, a suit had been brought, and the debtor, to 
 anticipate the result, confessed judgment to two 
 of his largest creditors, who honorably bound 
 themselves to see that a pro rata division was made 
 of all his effects. 
 
 The business of this New Year's Day, was to 
 draw up as complete a statement as possible of his 
 affairs, and Mr. James went about the work with a 
 heavy heart. He had been engaged in this way 
 for over an hour, when one of his clerks came to 
 the desk where he was writing, and handed him a 
 letter which a lad had just brought in. He broke 
 the seal with a nervous foreboding of trouble, for, 
 of late, these letters by the hands of the private 
 messengers, had been frequent, and rarely of an 
 agreeable character. From the envelope, as he 
 commenced withdrawing the letter, there dropped 
 upon the desk a narrow piece of paper, folded 
 like a bill. He took it up with almost reluctant 
 fingers, and slowly pressed back the ends so as 
 to read its face, and comprehend its import.
 
 90 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN". 
 
 Twice his eyes went over the brief lines, before 
 he was clear as to their meaning. They were as 
 follows : 
 
 " Keceived, January 1, 18 , of Abraham James, 
 One Thousand Dollars, in full of all demands. 
 
 " HIRAM EDGAR." 
 
 Hurriedly, now, did Mr. James unfold the letter 
 that accompanied this receipt. Its language moved 
 him deeply : 
 
 " ABRAHAM JAMES, Esq., 
 
 DEAR SIR : I was not in a right state of 
 mind when I gave directions to have a suit 
 brought against you. I have seen clearer since, 
 and wish to act from a better principle. My own 
 affairs are prosperous. During the year which has 
 just closed, my profits have been better than 
 in any year since I started business. Your 
 affairs, on the contrary are unprosperous. Heavy 
 losses, instead of fair profits, are the result of a 
 year's tireless efforts, and you find yourself near 
 the bottom of the wheel, while I am sweeping up 
 wards. As I think of this, and of my unfeeling 
 conduct towards you in your misfortunes, I am
 
 THE HAPPY NEW TEAR. 91 
 
 mortified as well as pained. There is an element 
 in my character which ought not to be there. I 
 am self-convicted of cruelty. Accept, my dear 
 sir, in the enclosed receipt, the best reparation in 
 my power to make. In giving up this claim, I do 
 not abandon an item that goes to complete the 
 sum of my happiness. Not a single comfort will 
 be abridged. It will not shrink the dimensions of 
 my house, nor withdraw from myself or family 
 any portion of food or raiment. Accept, then, the 
 New Year's gift I offer, and believe that I have a 
 purer delight in giving than you in receiving. 
 My best wishes are with you for the future, and if, 
 in anything, I can aid you in your arrangements 
 with creditors, do not fail to command my ser 
 vice. 
 
 " Most truly yours, 
 
 EDGAK.' 
 
 For the space of nearly five minutes, Mr. James 
 sat very still, the letter of Mr. Edgar before him, 
 Then he folded it up, with the receipt inside, and 
 placed it m his pocket ; then he put away the in 
 ventories he had been examining, and tore up sev 
 eral pieces of paper, on which were sundry calcu-
 
 92 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 lations ; and then he put on his warm overcoat and 
 buttoned it to the chin. 
 
 " Edward," said Mr. James, as he walked down 
 the store, "I shall not return this afternoon. It is 
 New Year's Day, and you can close up at two 
 o'clock." 
 
 It cost Mr. Edgar a struggle to write the receipt 
 in full. A thousand dollars was a large sum of 
 money to give away by a single stroke of the pen. 
 Love of gain and selfishness pleaded strongly for 
 the last farthing ; but the better reason and better 
 feelings of the man prevailed, and the good deed 
 was done. How light his heart felt how sud 
 denly the clouds were lifted from his sky, and the 
 strange pressure from his feelings ! It was to him 
 a new experience. 
 
 On the evening that closed the day the first 
 evening of the New Year Mr. Edgar sat with his 
 wife and children in his elegant home, happier by 
 far than he was in the morning, and almost won 
 dering at the change in his state of mind. Little 
 Ellen was in his arms, and as he looked upon her 
 cherub face, he thought of a face as beautiful, seen 
 by him in the morning, at the window of his 
 unfortunate debtor. Ihe face of an angel it had
 
 THE HAIPT NEW TEAK. 93 
 
 proved to him, for it prompted the good deed from 
 which had sprung a double blessing. While he 
 sat thus, he heard the door bell ring. In a few 
 minutes the waiter handed in a letter. He broke 
 the seal and read : 
 
 "Mr DEAK SIB: 
 
 "This morning my dear little Aggy, the 
 light of our home, greeted me with a joyous 
 ' Happy New Tear.' I took her in my arms and 
 kissed her, keeping my face close to hers, that she 
 might not see the sadness of mine. Ah, sir ! The 
 day broke in gloom. The words of my child found 
 no echo in my heart. I could have wept over her, 
 if the strength of manhood had not risen above 
 the weakness of nature. But all is changed now. 
 A few minutes ago the ' Happy ISTew Year ' was 
 flowing to me from the sweet lips of my child, and 
 the words went thrilling in gladness to my heart. 
 May the day close as happily for you and yours, as 
 it is closing for me and mine. 
 
 " God bless you ! 
 
 "ABRAHAM JAMES." 
 
 Mr. Edgar read this letter twice, and then 
 handed it, without a word, to his wife.
 
 94: STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 " What is the meaning of this ? I do not under 
 stand it, Hiram." Mrs. Edgar looked wonderingly 
 into her husband's face. 
 
 The story, to which "she listened eagerly, was 
 briefly told. "When Mr. Edgar had finished, his 
 wife arose, and, with tears of love and sympathy 
 in her eyes, crossed over to where he was sitting, 
 and throwing her arms around his neck, said : 
 
 " My good, my generous husband ! I feel very 
 proud of you this night. That was a noble deed ; 
 and I thank you for it in the name of our common 
 humanity." 
 
 Never had words from the lips of his wife 
 sounded so pleasantly in the ears of Mr. Edgar. 
 Never had he known so happy a New Year's Day 
 as the one which had just closed ; and, though 
 it saw him poorer than he believed himself in 
 the morning, by nearly a thousand dollars, he 
 was richer in feeling richer in the heart's un- 
 wasting possessions than he had ever been in his 
 life.
 
 ENTERING HEAVEN. 95 
 
 Till. 
 
 HEAVEN 
 
 "THE gates of heaven have swung open, and 
 another soul has entered its shining courts," said 
 the preacher, as he stood, with uncovered head, 
 by the coffin of one whose mortal history was 
 closed. 
 
 As I left the grave-yard, an old man, of mild 
 aspect, walked by my side. 
 
 " Did you know Mr. - ?" he asked, referring 
 to the deceased. 
 
 "As a neighbor, but not intimately," was my 
 reply. 
 
 " I knew him very well," said one who walked 
 with us. 
 
 " The preacher spoke of him as having entered 
 heaven," the old man quietly remarked. 
 
 " He died calmly and in Christian hope, putting 
 his trust in his Eedeemer," said the other "1 was
 
 96 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 with him in his last moments, and his end was 
 peace. If he has not gone to heaven, there are 
 not many of us who can look forward with con 
 fidence." 
 
 " "We must enter heaven while living upon the 
 earth," said the old man, in answer to this, speak 
 ing gravely, "or the doors will be for ever shut 
 against us. "We must be, as to our spirits, in the 
 society of angels here, or we cannot be in associa 
 tion with them hereafter." 
 
 " How can we be in heaven and upon earth at 
 the same time ?" queried the one who had spoken 
 of my neighbor's peaceful end ; " for one is spiritual 
 and the other natural." 
 
 " To be spiritual-minded is to be in heaven ; 
 and this we may be, while, as to the natural body, 
 we are still upon the earth. "Was our friend 
 spiritual-minded ?" 
 
 The old man turned to our companion, and 
 awaited his answer. 
 
 " He did not talk much of religion, as a general 
 thing ; but he was a regular church-goer." 
 
 " That signifies little," was replied. 
 
 " He was as good as other men ; better in many 
 things, I should think though not in any way dis-
 
 ENTERING HEAVEN. 97 
 
 tinguished for piety. He was not one of your talk 
 ing professors. But those who knew him best, 
 valued him most. His peaceful end assures me 
 that he is safe." 
 
 "The life, not the death, gives genuine assurance," 
 said the old man. " "With rare exceptions, all men 
 die peacefully the evil and the good. As the 
 time of departure draws near, the soul sinks into 
 tranquil states, and thoughts of life, not death, hold 
 it away from depressing influences. There is a 
 wise as well as a merciful providence in this. But, 
 you say, that those who knew him best, valued 
 him most." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Yalued him for what?" 
 
 " For his kindness of heart, his benevolence, his 
 truth and honesty. Why, sir, that man would 
 have suffered his right arm to be taken, rather than 
 swerve from his integrity." 
 
 "Was he proud of his honest fame? Did he 
 boast of it, and compare himself with other 
 men?" 
 
 " No, sir. He was not one who* thought much 
 of himself, or took merit for a good deed. I think 
 the poor will miss him, and weak ones sigh for the 
 5*
 
 98 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 sustaining hand that is now cold in death. Ah, 
 sir, he was a good man. But I don't think he 
 could be called spiritual-minded." 
 
 "A good man, and a true man, and yet not 
 spiritual-minded!" There was a look of surprise 
 in the old man's face. "Are not goodness and 
 truth spiritual in their nature? And does not 
 their reception into any mind determine its 
 quality?" 
 
 " You may be right in your conclusions," said 
 the other. " I have not been in the habit of view 
 ing things just in your way. But I am very sure 
 that our friend has gone to heaven." 
 
 " He has gone among those who are like him, 
 and with whom he was in conjunction as to his 
 spirit, while he yet lived in the world," the old 
 man answered. "He could not live in eternal 
 association with spirits or angels, the movement of 
 whose lives was not in harmony with his own. If 
 he was a lover of truth ; if he was kind, benevolent, 
 thoughtful of others, and faithful in all his acts, he 
 has passed upwards into the heavenly companion 
 ship of the good ; but if he was selfish, cruel, ex 
 acting, and faithless in his life, no tranquil death- 
 hour has made him a fit companion for angels, and
 
 ENTERING HEAVEN. 91' 
 
 he will go unto his own. Revelation affirms this, and 
 reason assents to no other conclusion. It is a doc 
 trine that sweeps away fallacious hopes, and leaves 
 to none the dangerous, if not always fatal, experi 
 ment of a death-bed repentance." 
 
 "We paused, for our ways diverged. 
 
 "If all were of your doctrine," said I, "men 
 would take more heed to their ways. There are 
 few who do not hope to reach heaven at last. 
 They trust to some good deed that will not involve 
 any hard denial of self, or to some cheap act of 
 faith, to crowd them through the gate, thinking 
 that if they once get in, they will be all right for 
 eternity. But this idea of a heavenly quality being 
 formed in the soul before any one can enter heaven, 
 is rather a hard saying for most men. It is an ex 
 tinguisher of hope for the evil-minded." 
 
 " There is no other way," was answered. ""We 
 must enter through the strait gate of self-denial 
 and it will be found very strait to most people. If 
 we fail to do this, and seek to climb up some other 
 way, the consequences of our folly will be with us 
 for ever. " 
 
 And as the old man said this, we turned from 
 him, pondering his words in our hearts.
 
 100 STEP8 TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 IX. 
 
 IT IS MOBNING WITH THE CHILD. 
 
 A MOTHER sat, in tears, hy the bed-side of hei 
 youngest-born, and best beloved. Six days had 
 passed since the hand of fever was laid upon him, 
 and, ever since, the life-fountains had been drying 
 up under the fervent heat. Many times daily had 
 she entered into her closet and bowed herself be 
 fore the Father of Mercies, praying that the 
 Destroyer might pass by her dwelling. But prayers 
 and tears availed not. Steadily the disease kept 
 on its fatal course, and now scarcely a hope re 
 mained. Friends gathered around, offering words 
 of consolation, but they were only as idle murmurs 
 in her ears. 
 
 " The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away 
 Blessed be the name of the Lord," said the good 
 
 ,stor, who, only a year before, had lifted the 
 
 eet bov in his arms, and, in the presence of an-
 
 IT 18 MOENING WITH THE CHILD. 101 
 
 gels, touched his pure forehead with the waters of 
 baptism. 
 
 But the mother made no sign. She could not 
 accept this affliction as a blessing she could not 
 offer up thanks. Her very life was bound up in the 
 life of her child, and the thought of separation was 
 so terrible that no place for consolation was left in 
 her grieving spirit. 
 
 " It is appointed unto man once to die," added 
 the minister, still seeking to penetrate the mother's 
 heart, and pour in oil and wine ; " we must all pass 
 by this way must all enter this valley must all 
 go down into the dark river. How much better, 
 then, to die in the morning of life, ere fierce sun 
 beams have drank the fragrant dews, or the green, 
 leaves have withered on the sapless branches." 
 
 Still the mother made no sign. 
 
 " You will have a treasure in heaven ; and where 
 the treasure is, there will the heart be also." 
 
 But all availed not. The tears fell like rain. 
 
 Sadly, at length, the minister turned away, and 
 left the weeping mother with her friends ; for her 
 ears were closed to all the words of consolation he 
 could offer. 
 
 An hour later, and the mother still bent over the
 
 102 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 frail body of her little one. There was no hope in 
 her heart, for she saw upon his wan face the signet 
 mark of the death-angel. One friend remained 
 with her ; and, until now, this friend had offered 
 no words of comfort. The grieving mother was 
 bending over the pillow upon which the sick child 
 lay, and gazing down upon the countenance she was 
 soon to see no more, when she felt a hand laid gently 
 upon her own, and with a touch that sent a new 
 impulse throbbing through the heart. 
 
 "It is very dark here, sometimes," said the 
 friend, very softly, very tenderly, and with a mean 
 ing in her voice beyond that contained in the words 
 she had uttered. 
 
 The mother answered only by a returning pres 
 sure of the hand. 
 
 " Even the light of this world is darkness when 
 compared with the light of heaven. Here the best 
 and most highly favored do little more than grope 
 their way. There, every one walks in noon-day 
 clearness." 
 
 She had gained the mother's ear. Her words 
 had gone inward to the region of thought. 
 
 " I have passed through these deep waters, my 
 friend," she continued, " and have heard their ter-
 
 IT 18 MORNING WITH THE CHILD. 103 
 
 rible roaring. I have held a dying babe in my 
 arms, and clung to it with an agony of grief that 
 seemed as if it would snap my very heart-strings. 
 But, after the keenness of affliction was over, I had 
 this consolation, and it has remained ever since. 
 "When the night with me was at the darkest, it was 
 morning with my child. Yes, it was then that the 
 morning broke on him which shall never go down 
 in night. Blessed morning of celestial glory ! Oh, 
 how often and often since, when I have walked in 
 darkness, have I thanked GOD, with a true heart, 
 fervently, that it was morning with my child 1" 
 
 The mother's tears ceased to fall, and she turned 
 her wet eyes upon her friend, and looked into her 
 face earnestly. 
 
 " There is one question," said the friend, after a 
 pause, " that every mother should ask herself. It 
 is this ' How do I love my child selfishly or un 
 selfishly ?' If unselfishly, then, whatever is best for 
 the child, will give to her heart the deepest pleas 
 ure. I had a dream on the very night my precious 
 one was taken away from me. I believe that it 
 was imaged to my fancy while sleeping, by a lov 
 ing angel sent to comfort me in my great affliction. 
 There had always been something very fearful to
 
 10i STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 me in the idea of dying here, and awakening to 
 consciousness in a new and strangely different ex 
 istence ; and the thought followed my child. Tha 
 iream was to me a revelation, and as such I ac 
 cepted it thankfully. I saw, in my sleep, tw( 
 scenes the one contrasting with the other, as we 
 sometimes see them in pictures. One scene repre 
 sented the saddest of my life-experiences. I saw 
 myself sitting in darkness and in tears, as you sit 
 now, my friend and sister, bending over my precious 
 babe, clinging to it as the miser clings to his gold 
 aye, and with an intenser passion. But only a veil 
 dropped down between that scene and another, 
 which quickly enchained my vision, and caused my 
 heart, heavy with grief, to throb with a new-born 
 pleasure. An angel, in form like a chaste young 
 virgin, was clasping to her bosom a babe, in all the 
 ecstasy of a new-born joy. ISTo mother, when she 
 feels upon her breast the first pressure of her first 
 babe, ever felt more delight than I saw pictured in 
 the face of the angel as she held my babe to her 
 loving heart. Yes, my babe, just born into heaven, 
 and given into her care by the Divine Father of us 
 all. 
 
 " For a time I could not withdraw my eyes
 
 IT IS MOENING WITH THE CHILD. 105 
 
 from the face of the angel. Never had I gazed 
 upon a countenance so full of love ; so radiant 
 with celestial beauty. And the babe nestled on her 
 bosom as lovingly as it had ever nestled on mine. 
 From this scene, after gazing upon it until tears 
 ran down my cheeks tears of gratitude that it 
 was so well with my babe I turned to look at the 
 darker one at the sorrowing earthly mother and 
 the suffering child! Poor babe! "Wasted with 
 sickness and writhing with mortal pain. How 
 yearningly and pityingly my heart went towards 
 it, and I prayed for its deliverance ! Even as the 
 words went up from my heart, the darker scene 
 faded until it became no longer visible; out 
 the brighter one remained. "When I awoke, and 
 grief for my great loss revived in my heart, I re 
 called the precious dream, and took comfort. "What 
 if I did walk in darkness ? It was morning eter 
 nal morning, with my child !" 
 
 As the mother listened, to her mind was also 
 pictured the two scenes. Her tears had ceased to 
 flow, and her countenance showed a visible inter 
 est. A little while she sat musing, and then, as 
 she turned her eyes, full of tenderness, upon her 
 sick boy, said : 
 
 5*
 
 106 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 " Oh, it is hard, very hard, to give him up ! 
 How can I do it ? How can I resign him, even to 
 the care of an angel V 
 
 The friend said no more. Her words had found 
 a way into the heart of the sorrowing one, and she 
 left them to do their own work. 
 
 A little later, and the hour of deepest darkness 
 came the hour of separation. Over the mother's 
 spirit a pall of blackest gloom was spread. The 
 words of her friend had faded from her memory. 
 She saw not the beautiful beyond, but gazed only 
 upon a dark, gloomy abyss, into which her precious 
 one was about falling, while she stood helpless 
 by. Oh, what would she not then have given for 
 light upon the future! for an unsealed vision. 
 Willingly would she have died, that she might go 
 with her child along the unknown way, and shield 
 him from its terrors. Over him she bent, seeing 
 nothing, hearing nothing, caring for nothing but 
 her boy ; while darker and closer the shadows 
 gathered around her. It was night dark, cold, 
 moonless night, with the grieving mother. 
 
 For more than an hour the child had lain in a 
 deep stupor, but it was evident that life was 
 ebbing away, and that the last agony would soon
 
 IT 18 MOENING WITH THE CHILD. 107 
 
 be over. For herself, the mother had almost 
 ceased to grieve : every thought and every feeling 
 were centered in her child, about passing alone 
 through the gate of death alone to meet the reali 
 ties of the unseen world. 
 
 Suddenly a light fell upon the wan, suffering 
 face a smile played around the white lips the 
 eyes, long closed, and heavy with pain and fever, 
 flew open, and, glancing upwards with a glad ex 
 pression, the child said, 
 
 " Good morning, mamma !" 
 
 " Good morning, love !" answered the startled 
 mother, scarcely thinking of the words she uttered. 
 
 " Good morning !" repeated the child, still gazing 
 upwards, with a new and heavenly beauty in its 
 countenance. " Oh, it is morning now !" 
 
 Fixed was the glad look for several moments ; 
 then the fringing lids drooped slowly, until they 
 lay softly upon the pure white cheeks. The parted 
 lips closed; but the smile remained. The hands, 
 lifted for a moment in glad surprise, fell over the 
 placid breast, and all was still, and holy, and 
 beautiful. 
 
 " Yes, it is morning now," whispered the friend 
 in the mother's ear, as she sat like one entranced,
 
 108 STEPS fOWABDS HEAVEN. 
 
 gazing upon the pulseless form before her, which, 
 as if touched by an enchanter's wand, had sud 
 denly changed from an image of suffering into 
 one of tranquil beauty. 
 
 And it was morning with the child a heavenly 
 morning and morning also with the mother ; for 
 a new light had dawned upon her, and a new faith 
 in the hereafter. The dark valley was suddenly 
 bridged with light, and she saw her precious one 
 by angel guides led safely over. 
 
 " God careth for these jewels," said the friend, a 
 few hours afterwards. " They are precious in his 
 sight : not one of them is lost. His love is ten 
 derer even than a mother's love. We may trust 
 them in his hands with unfaltering confidence. 
 JSTes, yes, grieving mother! it is indeed morning 
 with your babe !"
 
 RICHER OR POORER. 109 
 
 X. 
 
 KICHEK, OE POOEEE? 
 
 IT was the last day and last evening of the week 
 and of the year ; and Mr. Stephens sat alone, re 
 viewing the incidents of his life during the twelve 
 months now just completed. 
 
 " I think," he said within himself, " that I have 
 cause of self-congratulation. Providence has spe 
 cially favored me. All my work has prospered." 
 
 Yet, even while he thus referred to a providen 
 tial agency, the pride of human prudence was 
 swelling in his heart. 
 
 " How many a goodly vessel has been shattered 
 to pieces on the seething breakers ; yet my staunch 
 ship still rides the waves in safety." 
 
 Mr. Stephens arose from his chair, as he said 
 this, and drawing his thumbs into the arm holes of 
 his waistcoat, threw his head back and his chest 
 forward, and commenced pacing the floor of his
 
 I 
 
 110 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 elegant parlor with the air of a man who felt at 
 peace with himself and all the world. As he 
 walked, he said, half-aloud 
 
 "Providence has smiled on me, and I am thank 
 ful. God has crowned my seasons with blessing. 
 To-morrow, on the first Sabbath of the new year, I 
 will give him thanks in the congregation of his 
 people ; for the Lord accepteth a thankful heart. 
 Many a man," he continued, " has lost his earthly 
 good things, for lack of a thankful heart. Mine 
 shall abound in gratitude." 
 
 And then Mr. Stephens, by a natural progression 
 of thought, began making a hurried estimate of his 
 gains for the year. They were large. As he re 
 sumed his seat in the great cushioned chair, he 
 said, with a flutter of pleased emotions 
 
 " I am richer to-day, by many thousands, than I 
 was a year ago." 
 
 "Richer yes richer" he murmured, half aloud, 
 as if speaking to some one. Several minutes had 
 passed, and, with eyes partly closed, he was sinking 
 down among the soft cushions of his chair. From 
 waking consciousness to sleeping vision there is, 
 sometimes, scarcely a moment's interval, It was 
 so in the present case.
 
 RICHER, OR POORER. Ill 
 
 " Richer richer," was still upon the merchant's 
 lips, when the rustle of garments reached his ears, 
 and he saw by his side a form of angelic beauty. 
 
 " And yet," said a voice that went thrilling to 
 the very centre of his life, " you have lost fear 
 fully." 
 
 " Lost ! lost ! Oh, no I have lost nothing," an 
 swered the merchant, quickly recovering himself. 
 " Every venture has proved successful." 
 
 " Let us see." And the strange visitor sat down 
 just in front of Mr. Stephens, and fixed her calm, 
 searching eyes upon his face. " If I have estimated 
 correctly, you are vastly poorer now, than you 
 were at the year's beginning." 
 
 " A low shudder of fear ran along the merchant's 
 nerves. What could this mean ? He thought of his 
 solid real estate, his well-secured stocks, his bonds, 
 his ships, and his merchandise. 
 
 " I am richer, not poorer,'" he answered with re 
 gaining confidence. 
 
 " You have lost integrity," said the visitor, "one 
 of the priceless jewels of a man's life." 
 
 " I am an honest man." The merchant spoke 
 with a flush of indignation upon his face. 
 
 " Honest before men not before God. You
 
 112 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 have forgotten that an All-seeing eye was upon 
 you." 
 
 " "What have I done ? Bring my deeds to the 
 light. I have wronged no man." 
 
 The merchant's voice was confident. 
 
 The visitor handed him, in silence, a narrow 
 piece of paper, on which were some written and 
 printed words. 
 
 "What is this?" he read, and answered his own 
 question " Oh, a tax bill." His tone was indif 
 ferent. 
 
 "Is it paid?" 
 
 " Paid ! I have never seen it before." 
 
 " You believed yourself forgotten, in this par 
 ticular instance, by assessor and collector," said the 
 visitor severely, " and counted this sum as so much 
 in the year's gain. You knew that the debt 
 existed ; that you owed the State just so much for 
 the protection it gave to your life and property. 
 That so much was due as an item in your contribu 
 tion in support of order, education, and the helpless 
 poor. But this high obligation you have willfully 
 set aside, and indulged a feeling of selfish pleasure 
 at the trifling gain it left in your hands gain of 
 less than a hundred perishable dollars !"
 
 RICHER, OR POORER. 113 
 
 A cold chill of conviction struck to the heart of 
 Mr. Stephens. 
 
 " But the loss is fearful to think of," was con 
 tinued. " Loss of manly integrity and heavenly 
 virtue. No one could know of this, you said within 
 your heart. Or, if it were discovered that an 
 assessment had been omitted, or a bill mislaid, it 
 would only be regarded as an error, and your 
 prompt settlement, on presentation, would put you 
 all right in the world's regard. Ah, sir, in the 
 trial of your integrity, honor failed. In the hour 
 of temptation, you fell. Is this gain, or loss? Are 
 you richer, or poorer, by the act ? 
 
 The merchant's head sank low upon his breast in 
 shame and self-condemnation. It was all too true. 
 He had, knowingly, omitted to pay a tax bill that 
 was justly due. Had failed that much in one of 
 his higher obligations to society, and for the paltry 
 gain of a few dollars. In all his public walk be 
 fore men, he had maintained an upright stature ; 
 but stooped to a petty fraud in secret. 
 
 " A fearful loss," said the visitor, " for it is a loss 
 of just so much of the property that goes to make 
 up a man's riches in heaven. I said you were 
 poorer now than at this time last year ; and so you
 
 STEPS TOWAKDS HEAVEN. 
 
 are, by this large item. And you have lost, be 
 sides, a pearl of inestimable value ; one that you 
 could have taken with you as a rich inheritance 
 into the other life. God gave you an opportunity 
 to help a brother in need, who came to you in his 
 sore distress, and tried to awaken your sympathy. 
 But you heard him only in part, and turned him 
 aside with cold and cutting words. It was not 
 'enough that you saw the struggles of manly pride 
 in his face, and the pale anguish of features ; not 
 enough that he was weak and in sore trouble you 
 must add rebuke to denial, as if misfortune were a 
 crime. As a merchant, you had prospered in every 
 venture you were at ease, and in comfort ; and 
 so God sent to you this man, that you might help 
 him in his need, and thus add to your heavenly 
 riches. But love of self triumphed over a love of 
 the neighbor. You preferred gold to good. The 
 treasures that moth and rust corrupt, to that 
 which is enduring as eternity. The pure pearl of 
 tender compassion was offered for your acceptance, 
 but your eyes were too dim to see its priceless 
 value. God did not forget his needy child. The 
 good deed you failed to do, another performed, and 
 to him heaven sent the blessing that might have 
 
 i
 
 BICKER, OR POORER. 115 
 
 been yours. And so there i& more lost treasure to 
 be taken into the account." 
 
 " Spare me !" cried the merchant, raising his 
 hands with a deprecating gesture. "Oh, spare 
 me!" 
 
 Not yet," said the visitor. "Money gave you 
 power, and you used that power to wrong thou 
 sands of your weaker fellow-men." 
 
 "I have wronged no one," answered the mer 
 chant boldly. "All my dealings have been in. 
 justice between man and man." 
 
 "You deceive yourself, returned the visitor 
 " Is mere speculation honest ?" Is it just to monop 
 olize an article that the poorest mechanic and 
 humblest day-laborer must have, and so enhance 
 its price that many comforts must be given up in 
 order to procure the needed supply? You have 
 not been just between man and man, for you have 
 done this, and done it at the peril of your soul ; for 
 loss of neighborly regard and honest principle 
 were involved in the act. Gold gained by fair 
 trading did not come in fast enough to satisfy your 
 thirst for riches, and so you laid plans, that were 
 too successftil, for defrauding your weaker brethren. 
 You diminished the supply of bread in the mouths
 
 116 STEPS TOWAED8 HEAVEN. 
 
 of hungry children, and made the poor man's bur 
 dens heavier, that you might add to the wealth 
 already increased beyond your power to enjoy." 
 
 Again the head of Mr. Stephens sank upon his 
 breast, and he was covered with shame and con 
 fusion. 
 
 " Is there cause for self-congratulation in this ? 
 Are you really a richer man to-night than you 
 were at the year's beginning ?" 
 
 " Leave me !" said the merchant, with a groan 
 of anguish. 
 
 "Not yet; for my mission is incomplete," an 
 swered the beautiful monitor. " It is said that 
 Mr. Stephens is a high-minded, honorable mer 
 chant. Every where, in business circles, men bear 
 this testimony in his favor." 
 
 The merchant began recovering himself. A glow 
 of pride warmed his heart. 
 
 " Men can can say nothing less," he made an 
 swer. 
 
 " Let your own heart judge. What better are 
 you than the thief who appropriates unlawfully 
 the goods of another ? Or what honor is there in 
 taking, by constraint, a dollar from the earnings of 
 ten thousand different men, in order that you may
 
 RICHER, OR POORER. i!7 
 
 add ten thousand dollars to your heaped-up store 
 of wealth ? This you have done in a single act of 
 unrighteous speculation. What would you think 
 of the morality of a newsboy who should, by some 
 adroit piece of petty circumvention, succeed in ex 
 tracting a sixpence from the pockets of each of a 
 dozen ragged companions, that he might be pos 
 sessor of the most money, or secure the means of 
 enjoyment which poverty denied to them ? Tou 
 would consider him a sharper ; perhaps, call him a 
 rogue. Covetousness was the spring of action in 
 your case, as it would be in his; and a selfish dis 
 regard of the neighbor led on to the consummation 
 of wrong. 
 
 " High-minded and honorable !" There was an 
 almost withering contempt in the monitor's voice. 
 " If it would not be honorable in the newsboy to 
 get, without any return of benefits, the sixpences 
 of his humble companions, it cannot be honorable 
 in the scheming merchant to wrong his neighbors 
 on a broader scale. Take a thousand dollars of 
 your money and place it here on this table the 
 money you gained in that nice speculation for 
 which so many shrewd, unscrupulous men praised 
 your boldness and sagacity. Count it over, coin
 
 118 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 by coin, and as you look upon each one succes 
 sively, say thus to yourself: 'This dollar I took 
 from a poor day-laborer. He had saved it, penny 
 by penny ; and as he saved, the hope of getting 
 something ahead cheered him in his ill-requited 
 work. But, my plans were too well laid ; the dol 
 lar passed from its little treasury, and now is mine. 
 The man grew discouraged at its loss, and went 
 back to his dram-drinking. He lies in prison now, 
 and his children 'are beggars on the street. That 
 dollar cost something. This one has almost as sad 
 a story : "A toiling mother, with three helpless 
 babes to support, was barely able to procure food 
 and raiment, though she bent to her weary work 
 long after midnight. I raised the price of bread, 
 and this extra dollar she had to earn by increasing 
 toil. And so count on, coin after coin, until you 
 get the full sum of human suffering your base spec 
 ulation in food has cost. Honorable ! high-minded 1 
 No, sir ! In the sight of Heaven you appear mean, 
 base, selfish, and dishonorable." 
 
 Again the merchant's head was depressed, and 
 his heart sunk like lead in his bosom. His own 
 deformed image was before him, and he shuddered 
 at the monstrous effigy.
 
 EICHEK, OR POORER. 
 
 "1 do not think yon are any richer for that 
 scheme of wrong and oppression," resumed the 
 visitor. j 
 
 " If your soul were required of you this night, 
 you could not take a dollar of gain with you ; but 
 instead, only the curse of an evil deed. Shall I go 
 on?" 
 
 " No ! no ! in Heaven's name, spare me !" cried 
 the merchant aloud, -starting up and turning to fly 
 from his rebuking visitor. But, even while he 
 spoke, the beautiful being faded from his sight, and 
 he found himself alone in his parlor. The vision 
 had passed, but the lesson remained. 
 
 The next day was the first Sabbath of the new 
 year. Mr. Stevens went to church, as he had pur 
 posed not, however, to give thanks for a prosper 
 ous year, but to humble himself; to ask forgiveness 
 of sin, and to pray for the inspiration of a better 
 life. The minister preached from these searching 
 words: " For what shall it profit a man, if he gain 
 the whole world and lose his own soul ; or what 
 shall a man give in exchange for his soul ?" And 
 every word of the sermon seemed as if addressed 
 to the conscience-stricken merchant. The unpaid 
 tax-bill; the unrighteous speculation; the failure
 
 120 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 to help a brother in need, were all educed, and 
 marked by special condemnation. The mirror was 
 a second time held up, and Mr. Stevens looked 
 once more, in shame, upon the marred image of 
 himself. 
 
 "God helping me," he said devoutly, as he 
 walked homeward, " I will be a richer man on the 
 next new-year's day than I am on this richer in 
 heavenly possessions, the best of all." 
 
 And it was so.
 
 EVERT WRINKLE A LINE OF BEATTTT. 121 
 
 XI. 
 EVEKY WEINKLE A LINE OF BEAUTY. 
 
 "I DON'T like old people," said a thoughtless 
 young girl, " they are either cross, disagreeable, or 
 
 " You have been unfortunate in your chances of 
 observation," replied a lady, sitting near her. 
 
 " It may be so, but I speak, at least, from expe 
 rience. All the old people it has been my fortune, 
 or misfortune, to meet, have been cross in temper 
 and repulsive in appearance. I have an old aunt 
 who is always associated in my mind with the 
 Witch of Endor. From a child I have had a 
 perfect horror of her. I doubt if she ever gave 
 utterance to a kind or uncomplaining word in her 
 life." 
 
 " You must not judge all by this aunt, my young 
 friend," said the lady. " There are handsome and 
 agreeable old people in the world, and not a few
 
 122 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 of them either, but many. Age does not necessa- 
 sour the temper, nor mar the countenance, 
 e is such a thing as ' growing old gracefully,' 
 and the number of those who are thus advancing 
 along the paths of life, I am pleased to say, are 
 increasing yearly. I happen to have an old aunt 
 also, but, so far from being a second Witch of 
 Endor, I heard a gentleman, not many days ago, 
 remark, in speaking of her, ' Why, every wrinkle 
 in Mrs. Elder's face is a line of beauty.' And so 
 it is ; for every wrinkle there was born of patient 
 s endurance, or unselfish devotion to the good of 
 others. I look at her dear old face often and 
 often, and say to myself, 'Now, is she not hand 
 some?'" 
 
 " I should really like to see your aunt," said the 
 young girl, half skeptically. 
 
 " Come to my house to-morrow, and we will pay 
 her a visit," answered the lady. " It will do both 
 of us good." 
 
 " Thank you for the invitation. I will certainly 
 call." 
 
 The next day came, and the yoimg lady was 
 early at the house of Mrs. Barton. 
 
 " Glad to see you, Kate," was the pleasant greet-
 
 EVERY WRINKLE A LINE OF BEAUTY. 123 
 
 ing she received. " We are to call on my aunt 
 Elder I believe." 
 
 " Yes ; you promised to introduce me to an old 
 lady who, so far from being cross and ugly, is sweet- 
 tempered and beautiful. The sweet temper I can 
 imagine, but not a face wrinkled and beautiful at 
 the same time." 
 
 " You shall see," was answered. 
 
 " Ah, good morning, Mary," said a low, but very 
 pleasant and cheerful voice, as the two ladies en 
 tered the small but neat and orderly sitting-room of 
 Mrs. Elder. 
 
 "My friend, Miss Kate "Williams," said Mrs. 
 Barton, presenting the young lady. 
 
 Mrs. Elder laid heiOmittiiig>upon a table, close 
 to her open{^ibl^and rising, took the hand of Miss 
 "Williams, looking earnestly into her young face 
 as she did so, and smiling so sweet a welcome, that 
 Kate did not see a wrinkle, for the beautiful light 
 that shone from the old lady's placid countenance. 
 
 "I am always pleased to see young faces," 
 said Mrs. Elder, " and to feel the warmth of young 
 hearts." 
 
 "How are you to-day, aunt?' inquired Mrs. 
 Barton.
 
 124: STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 "Not so well in body as when you were here 
 last. I sleep but poorly." 
 
 Mrs. Elder smiled as if she were telling of enjoy 
 ments, and then added 
 
 " But this is only one of the penalties of age. I 
 knew it must come, and long ago made up my 
 mind to be patient and enduring. These are some 
 of the light afflictions, lasting but for a moment, 
 which, if borne in Christian meekness, help to 
 work out for us that far more exceeding and eternal 
 weight of glory, to which the apostle refers in one 
 of his sublime passages." 
 
 Miss Williams looked at the old lady half won- 
 deringly. 
 
 "Always doing something, Aunt Elder," said 
 Mrs. Barton, placing her hand upon the half-knit 
 yarn stocking which the old lady had put aside as 
 she rose to take the hand of Miss "Williams. " Knit 
 ting, I suppose, has grown into a kind of habit. 
 The act brings its own reward. It is your pleasant 
 pastime." 
 
 "No, child, not my pleasant pastime, but my 
 useful employment," answered Mrs. Elder. "I 
 can't do much in this world for other people ; still 
 I can do a little, and I am thankful for the privi-
 
 EVERT WEINKLE A LE*E OF BEAUTY. 125 
 
 lege ; for I don't believe it is possible for anybody\ 
 to be happy who is not engaged in some useful!' 
 employment. I manage to keep the children of 
 half a dozen poor families in warm stockings for 
 the winter, and that is something added to the 
 common stock of human'comfort." 
 
 The eyes of Miss Williams were now fixed in 
 tently upon the old lady's age-marked features. 
 "Wrinkles went curving about her cheeks, her lips, 
 and chin, and wrinkles planted themselves deeply 
 upon her forehead. Grey hairs were visible be 
 neath her cap-border ; her calm eyes lay far back 
 in their hollow sockets; the symmetry of her 
 mouth was gone ; and yet it seemed to the young 
 girl, as she gazed at her wonderingly, as if every 
 wrinkle in that aged face were indeed a line of 
 beauty ! 
 
 " But you must have a surer foundation for hap 
 piness than knitting stockings," said Mrs. Barton. 
 
 The old lady seemed thoughtful for a moment. 
 She then said, with sweet impressiveness 
 
 "There is only one foundation upon which we 
 can rest and find happiness, and that is God's love 
 in the heart. "Hie great question for us all is, How 
 to obtain that love, It will not come at our com-
 
 126 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 mand. We cannot drag it down from heaven. 
 "We cannot find it, search we ever so diligently. 
 God's love is God-given; and he bestows it only 
 upon those who first have neighborly love. This 
 is that higher love's receptacle in the human heart. 
 First, love of the neighbor; then, love of good, 
 which is divine love in the soul, the sure founda 
 tion for abiding happiness. So you see, Mary, the 
 value of even knitting stockings to one like me. 
 It is useful work, and that, as the old monk said, is 
 worship." 
 
 Miss Williams could not withdraw her eyes from 
 the old lady's face. Its beauty and its goodness 
 seemed to fascinate her. She was a girl of quick 
 feelings and some enthusiasm. Suddenly rising 
 from the chair she had taken a few moments be 
 fore, she came forward, and stooping over Mrs. 
 Elder, kissed her, almost reverently, on the fore 
 head, saying, as she did so 
 
 "May I be like you when I grow old every 
 wrinkle in my face a line of beauty !" 
 
 " Grow old in goodness, my dear young friend !" 
 answered Mrs. Elder, taking her hand tightly 
 within her own, and speaking with emotion for 
 the young girl's sudden speech had stirred her feel-
 
 EVERY WRINKLE A LINE OF BEAUTY. 127 
 
 ings to an unusual depth " Grow old in goodness, 
 through the discipline of self-denial and the gentle 
 leadings of neighborly love. It is the only path 
 that conducts to a peaceful old age." 
 
 "Thanks for the lesson you have taught me," 
 said Miss "Williams, when she again clasped the 
 hand of Mrs. Elder in parting. "I will try to 
 grow old, as the years pass inevitably onwards, in 
 the better way that you have walked. And may 
 my last days be, like yours, my best days, and 
 radiant with light shining down from the better 
 world." 
 
 " I am a skeptic no longer" (she was now in the 
 street with Mrs. Barton) ; " beauty and age are not 
 incompatible." 
 
 " But the beauty of age," replied Mrs. Barton, 
 " is unlike the beauty of youth ; the one is natural, 
 the other spiritual and celestial. The one is of the 
 earth earthly ; the other is of the heavens hea 
 venly. An evil soul gradually mars the face, until 
 every lineament becomes repulsive; ln;t a scul of 
 goodness continually recreates the countenance, 
 and covers it with living beauty."
 
 128 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 XII. 
 
 DIED POOE. 
 
 " IT was a sad funeral to me," said the speaker , 
 " the saddest I have attended for many years." 
 
 "That of Edmonson?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "How did he die?" 
 
 " Poor poor as poverty. His life was one long 
 struggle with the world, and at every disadvan 
 tage. Fortune mocked him all the while with 
 golden promises that were destined never to know 
 fulfillment." 
 
 " Yet, he was patient and enduring," remarked 
 one of the company. 
 
 " Patient as a Christian enduring as a martyr," 
 was answered. " Poor man ! He was worthy of a 
 better fate. He ought to have succeeded, for he 
 deserved success." 
 
 " Did he not succeed ?" questioned the one who 
 had spoken of his patience and endurance.
 
 DIED POOR. 129 
 
 "No, sir. He died poor, as I have just said. 
 Nothing that he put his hand to ever succeeded. A 
 strange fatality seemed to attend every enterprise." 
 
 " I was with him in his last moments," said the 
 other, " and I thought he died rich." 
 
 " No. He has left nothing behind," was replied. 
 " The heirs will have no concern as to the adminis 
 tration of his estate." 
 
 " He left a good name," said one, " and that is 
 something." 
 
 "And a legacy of noble deeds that were done in 
 the name of humanity," remarked another. 
 
 "And precious examples," said a third. 
 
 "Lessons of patience in suffering; of hope in 
 adversity ; of heavenly confidence, when no sun 
 beams fell upon his bewildering path," was the 
 testimony of another. 
 
 "And high truths, manly courage, heroic forti 
 tude." 
 
 " Then he died rich !" was the emphatic declara 
 tion. " Richer than the millionaire who went to 
 his long home on the same day, a miserable pauper 
 in all but gold. A sad funeral, did you say ? No, 
 my friend, it was, rather, a triumphal procession ! 
 Not the burial of a human clod, but the ceremo- 
 6*
 
 130 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 nials attendant on the translation of an angel. Did 
 not succeed ! Why, his whole life was a series of 
 successes. In every conflict he came off the victor, 
 and now the victor's crown is on his brow. Any 
 grasping, soulless, selfish man, with a moderate share 
 of brains, may gather in money, and learn the art of 
 keeping it ; but not one in a hundred can bravely 
 conquer in the battle of life as Edmonson has con 
 quered, and step forth from the ranks of men, a 
 Christian hero. No, no; he did not die poor, but 
 rich rich in neighborly love, and rich in celestial 
 affections. And his heirs have an interest in the 
 adminisiration of his estate. A large property has 
 been left, and let them see to it that they do not 
 lose precious things through false estimates and 
 ignorant depreciations." 
 
 " You have a new way of estimating the wealth 
 of a man," said the one who had first expressed 
 sympathy for the deceased. 
 
 " Is it not the right way ?" was answered. 
 " There are higher things to gain in this world, 
 than wealth that perishes. Riches of priceless 
 value ever reward the true merchant, who trades 
 for wisdom, buying it with the silver of truth and 
 the gold of love. He dies rich who can take his
 
 DIED POOR. 131 
 
 treasure with him to the new land where he is to 
 abide forever, and he who has to leave all behind 
 on which he has placed affection, dies poor indeed. 
 Our friend Edmonson died richer than a Girard or 
 an Astor ; his monument is built of good deeds and 
 noble examples. It will abide forever."
 
 132 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 CUESED WITH BLESSINGS. 
 
 " CTJBSED with blessings." I closed the page, and 
 leaned back in reflection. 
 
 "Here is another paradox," said I. "Cursed 
 with blessings! It is simply a contradiction in 
 terms. What does the writer mean ?" 
 
 I turned to the page again, and read on. " There 
 is such a thing as being cursed with blessings, so 
 that the earthly good a man seeks, shall become the 
 greatest evil that can be visited upon him." 
 
 Some gleams of light passed into my mind. 
 Thought and memory went to work; and soon 
 around the proposition gathered a host of illustrat 
 ing incidents. I remembered the case of a man 
 who, in early and middle life, always, in family 
 prayer, brought in the petition "Increase our 
 basket and store." And the worldly good things 
 ho so much desired, came ; came in rich abundance.
 
 CURSED WITH BLESSINGS. 133 
 
 He added house to house, until his rents flowed 
 back upon him, a princely income. But, his selfish 
 heart made all his earthly blessings a curse. Like 
 the miser, his life was in his possessions ; and when 
 anything threatened these, trouble of spirit arose. 
 The dread of loss by fire, haunted him like a mur 
 derer's conscience. He insured ; but felt only half 
 protected by insurance, for there were dishonest 
 companies, flaws in contracts, quibbles in the law. 
 He had suffered one loss in this way. It was not 
 serious, but enough to break his faith in Insurance 
 as a reliable protection against fire. And so, every 
 stroke of the alarm bell, by night or by day, gave 
 a shock to his nerves, and sent a pang of fear to his 
 heart. Sweet, refreshing sleep, became a stranger 
 to his pillow. The ghost of apprehension was for 
 ever by his side, a fearful vision. 
 
 Then came a morbid dread of poverty ; and, after 
 a time, his day-dreams and fitful night-visions 
 began to be of pauperism and the almshouse. A t 
 sixty he was insane, from this cause, and died, in 
 the hallucination of abject want, leaving a hundred 
 thousand dollars of property, which passed to heirs, 
 who made the blessing a curse also, as he had done, 
 but in another way. In five years from his death,
 
 134: STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 his two sons realized their father's fears, and now 
 fill paupers' graves. 
 
 " Cursed with blessings ! Even BO 1" I said, as 
 memory closed the page on which this history was 
 recorded. " Like the manna which the children of 
 Israel gathered in the wilderness, life's blessings 
 must be used to-day if hoarded selfishly, they 
 will not keep." 
 
 Another illustration memory gave. I knew a 
 man who set his heart upon wealth, as a means of 
 comfort in old age. " I am willing to work now," 
 he used to say, " while I am young and vigorous ; 
 though business is distasteful to me. I love ease 
 and freedom, and for the sake of gaining them, I 
 toil on in early manhood." 
 
 And while he toiled on he was comparatively 
 happy. I can remember him as one of the most 
 cheerful men in my circle of acquaintance. But 
 competence rewarded his labor ere yet his sun of 
 life had swept beyond the zenith, and his " basket 
 and store " were full. His toil crowned him with 
 blessings. And so he retired from the busy world 
 to enjoy these good things which had come to him 
 in return for useful industry. Alas for my friend ! 
 He had no taste for books, no love of art, no fond-
 
 CTJK8ED WITH BLESSIKG8. 135 
 
 ness for country life, or pleasant gardening. His 
 mind had been educated only in one direction. He 
 was a man of business, and that alone. And so, 
 he had nothing to do but to sit down and enjoy 
 himself. How impossible that was, he discovered 
 in less than a month. During the first and second 
 seasons he tried Cape May, Saratoga, Newport, and 
 a trip down the Lakes and the St. Lawrence. But 
 he did not really enjoy himself. How could he? 
 There is no enjoyment for a man living without a 
 purpose. Mere killing time is only a slow, soul- 
 killing operation, and is always accompanied by 
 pain. 
 
 Ten years ago it was when my friend retired 
 from business, to enjoy his fortune. His cup of 
 blessing was full, and he has been holding it to his 
 lips ever since, trying to find sweetness in the 
 draught ; but, judging from the expression of his 
 face, the tone of his voice, and the character of his 
 remarks, I think the wine in his cup must be 
 dashed with unusual bitterness. His blessing has 
 become a curse. 
 
 Another received a moderate fortune from a dis 
 tant relative. He happened to be heir-at-law, and 
 the relative dying without a will, he came most
 
 136 8TEP8 TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 unexpectedly into possession of about thirty-five 
 thousand dollars in cash. He was a clerk, with a 
 salary of one thousand dollars a year, living frugal- 
 y with his wife and two children in a small, rented 
 house. Few men enjoyed life with a keener zest 
 than this young man. But the fortune proved his 
 ruin. The clerkship was at once given up for a 
 business venture ; the hired house for a handsome 
 purchased dwelling ; omnibus rides for drives in an 
 elegant carriage ; social tea companies for elegant 
 parties. His course was brilliant but brief. The 
 blessing was made a curse. Soured, dissatisfied, 
 maddened by a sudden fall from the height up to 
 which he had soared, away down into the valley of 
 abject poverty, he lost self-respect and self-control. 
 Drink made the ruin complete. His pale widow 
 sits toiling now, early and late, striving to keep the 
 wolf of hunger from her door. 
 
 Shall we go on, varying these illustrations of the 
 text ? They may be taken from every condition in 
 life, and from all of its wide relations. There is not 
 a reader who cannot supply his quota, and set them 
 even in stronger light than we have done. And 
 there is not a reader who may not, with the writer 
 find in his own past history almost unnumbered
 
 CUBBED WITH BLESSINGS. 137 
 
 instances, in which he has turned his good things 
 into evil ; his blessing into cursing. We all do it, 
 when we let affection rest in mere natural and 
 sensual things, instead of making these things 
 ministers of the soul's higher life. Worldly pos 
 sessions are blessings, if acquired as a means to 
 useful ends ; but they curse us, when we make 
 them our chief est good.
 
 138 STEPS TOWAKDS HEAVEN. 
 
 XIY. 
 HE THAT OYEKCOMETH. 
 
 " You will be at the meeting to-night," said a 
 clergyman to an influential member of his society, 
 speaking in an affirmative voice. 
 
 " No," was the decisive answer ; " I shall remain 
 at home." 
 
 " Why so, Mr. Percival ?" asked the clergyman, 
 manifesting surprise. 
 
 " It is better for me to stay away." 
 
 " I don't understand you." 
 
 " I am too excitable. The way in which some of 
 our members speak and act in these church meet 
 ings chafes and annoys me to such a degree that I 
 lose temper, and say things that do harm rather 
 than good ; so I have concluded to stay at home, 
 and let matters take their course." 
 
 " Is that right, brother Percival?" The minister 
 looked at his parishioner with a sober countenance.
 
 HE THAT OVEKCOMETH. 139 
 
 " It is best," was answered. 
 
 "Best for what?" 
 
 " Best for my peace of mind, at least." 
 
 " Even though disorderly measures are carried 
 in your absence, and the church sustains an injury 
 in consequence ?" 
 
 " I am not so sure that such will be the case," 
 Mr. Percival answered. 
 
 " There is an important measure to be sustained 
 or abandoned this evening." 
 
 " I know." 
 
 " You are in the affirmative ?" 
 
 I am." 
 
 " And you consider this measure of vital impor 
 tance to the church ?" 
 
 "I do." 
 
 " And yet deliberately propose an abandonment 
 of your post of duty ?" 
 
 " I am not fit to take the post of duty. My tem 
 per is too excitable." 
 
 The minister gazed for some moments into the 
 face of Mr. Percival, and then said 
 
 " I was reading to-day in the book of Revela 
 tions, and noted a certain passage as involving a 
 most important doctrine. It was this : ' To him that
 
 14:0 STEPS TOWABDS HEAVEN. 
 
 overcometk will I give to eat of the tree of life.' I 
 read on, and soon the same doctrine was repeated, 
 but with a new assurance ' He that overcometh 
 shall not be hurt of the second death.' Still I read, 
 and again the doctrine was announced, in the 
 words, ' He that overcometk, the same shall be 
 clothed in white raiment ; and I will not blot out 
 his name out of the book of life.' Now, what is it 
 that we are to overcome in order that we may ' eat 
 of the tree of life,' and ' not be hurt of the second 
 death.' Think, my dear brother, and answer this 
 question in your own heart." 
 
 " We must overcome evil," replied Mr. Percival, 
 after a pause. His voice was rather sober. 
 
 " This impulsive temper of which you complain," 
 said the minister, " is certainly an evil, if it hin 
 ders your usefulness to such a degree as to keep 
 you away from duty." 
 
 Mr. Percival bent his head, while a shade of 
 concern passed over his features. 
 
 " Is not the way plain before you, my brother ?" 
 The promise of life eternal is to him that overcom- 
 eth. You must overcome if you would not be hurt 
 of the second death." 
 
 " Is it not far better," said Mr. Percival, " know-
 
 HE THAT OVEKCOMETH. 
 
 ing this weakness of nature, to keep myself free 
 from temptation." 
 
 " Will that be a conquest of evil ?' The cowardly 
 soldier might offer the same reason for not ventur 
 ing into battle, lest he disgrace himself, and injure 
 his country, by running away. No, no ; this will 
 not do. You must conquer the foes of heaven 
 upon the battle-field of your own heart. You must 
 overcome" 
 
 Mr. Percival bent his head again, and did not 
 answer. 
 
 " Go to this meeting to-night," said the clergyman, 
 after a brief silence. " Go to do your duty ; and 
 in the divine strength, that will surely be given to 
 you, if you strive for victory over your easily-be 
 setting sin, will you conquer and stand up a man. 
 Go. A good cause has need of your best efforts." 
 
 " I thank you for this wise counsel," replied Mr. 
 Percival. " I see that you are right. I must not 
 let this sin, that doth so easily beset me, hold me 
 back, a coward, from my place, when God calls 
 me to stand up for the right. I must overcome, 
 and, God helping me, I will." 
 
 " Now you are in the right spirit," said the min 
 ister, encouragingly. " Hold fast to this good
 
 142 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 purpose, and go in this state of heavenly trust. 
 You will return from the meeting to-night a 
 stronger and a happier man." 
 
 Under this view of the case, Mr. Percival could 
 not absent himself from the church-meeting. But 
 he went with a guard set over his feelings, and a 
 bridle on his tongue. There was one member who 
 always led an opposition, no matter what the sub 
 ject under consideration. It was only necessary 
 to make a move towards doing something, to insure 
 objection ; and as he was a cool talker, and had a 
 great deal of self-possession, he generally managed 
 to carry a party with him. Towards this indi 
 vidual, whose name was Earned, Mr. Percival did 
 not entertain very kind feelings ; and whenever he 
 opposed him, it was with excitement of manner, 
 and, too often, with intemperance of speech. Thus 
 he lost influence in his opposition ; and always 
 came away from such meetings deeply mortified at 
 his want of self-control. 
 
 The business of the evening had progressed 
 almost to a conclusion, without a remark from Mr. 
 Percival, who sat a little apart from the rest, so 
 quiet and absorbed that few thought him at all in 
 terested in the subject under discussion. Mr
 
 HE THAT OVERCOMETH. 14:3 
 
 Larned, as usual, was in the opposition, and his 
 cool, specious way of talking had gained over to 
 his side quite a large number of the superficial 
 minds in the assembly, and there was danger of 
 defeat to a cause, the advocates of which had only 
 the best interests of religion in view. The minister 
 and others glanced towards Mr. Percival ; but he 
 neither moved nor looked up. At last, the vote 
 was about being taken. Then, and not till then, 
 did the excitable member, who saw the whole 
 subject in the clearest light, venture to take the 
 floor. He did so with a prayer on his lips a 
 prayer for aid in his struggle for self-control. His 
 voice trembled a little as he began, and those who 
 knew him well expected soon the old vehemence, 
 and intemperance of manner. But a new spirit 
 was at work in the heart of Mr. Percival, which 
 soon showed itself in even tones, and a deliberate 
 enunciation. He took up the subject under con 
 sideration, and presented it in so many new 
 lights, that numbers who had regarded it as of 
 minor importance, now saw it as a measure which 
 it was clearly their duty to support. He finished, 
 without a single unkind word, sharp invective, or 
 angry denunciation. 
 
 It was the usual course of things for Mr. Larned
 
 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 to reply to Mr. Percival's hot speech, in his cool, 
 semi-sarcastic way, and neutralize, with a large 
 number, all that was really valuable in what he 
 had said. The contrast between his manner and 
 that of Mr. Percival, no one saw more plainly than 
 did Mr. Percival himself; who also perceived, but 
 when too late, that he owed defeat to his own 
 quick, blinding temper. 
 
 Now, however, Mr. Larned, on rising to answer 
 the forcibly stated argument of Mr. Percival, found 
 himself without power. There had been no intem 
 perate warmth ; no blundering confusion of ideas ; 
 but a calm, rational directness of speech, that car 
 ried conviction to almost every mind not except 
 ing that of the always opposing member. When 
 the question was taken, the measure passed by an 
 almost unanimous vote. 
 
 " The first fruits, my brother," said the minister, 
 as he walked away from the meeting with Mr. Per 
 cival. " And if they be of such goodly size and 
 quality, in the beginning, what may we not 
 expect from the full grown tree. You have done 
 nobly nobly. ' He that is slow to anger is better 
 than the mighty ; and he that ruleth his spirit, than 
 he that taketh a city.' " 
 
 " It was a hard struggle," answered Mr. Percival,
 
 HE THAT OVFftCOMETH. 145 
 
 more in humility than exultation. " A very hard 
 struggle. I so dreaded, knowing my infirmity, to 
 take the floor, that nothing but an overpowering 
 sense of duty could have driven me to my feet. I 
 saw the whole subject in clear light, and all the 
 arguments in its favor were on my tongue's end. 
 But I feared the blinding influence of a hasty tem 
 per. Thank Heaven ! I was able to overcome in 
 the struggle." 
 
 " And so accomplished a double good," said the 
 minister. "Good for yourself, and good for a cause 
 that needed your advocacy. And now, my bro 
 ther," added the minister, "let the valuable lesson 
 this night received, go with you through life. 
 Never shrink from duty because of fear lest you 
 are not equal to the struggle against natural evil, 
 which may be required. The Christian must over 
 come natural evil. Must put down the strong man 
 of sin. Must succeed in every struggle with wrong. 
 We must be conquerors here, if we would receive 
 the victor's crown hereafter.. He that overc&meth 
 sJiall not 1)& hurt of the second death"
 
 14.6 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 XY. 
 
 THE TRIALS OF A DAT. 
 
 BABY had not slept well ; and the mother, robbed 
 during the night of her refreshing slumber, awoke 
 later than usual in the morning. Her first sensa 
 tions were of lassitude and exhaustion her first 
 consciousness, that of being behind time for the 
 day. She started up as soon as she was fairly 
 awake, with a hurried feeling, and commenced 
 dressing herself in haste ; but scarcely had she left 
 her bed before the baby missed her, and com 
 menced crying to be taken up. Her husband, Mr. 
 Samuel Jenkins, who liked to indulge in a quiet 
 morning nap, was disturbed by this untimely and, 
 to his ears, very discordant, music, and spoke out 
 rather sharply to the baby, which frightened her, 
 and set her to crying with increased violence. 
 
 " Why don't you take her up, Jane ?" growled 
 the half-asleep and half-awake husband,
 
 THE TRIALS OF A DAT. 147 
 
 " I will when I'm dressed," replied Mrs. Jenkins 
 with manifest irritation. 
 
 " Then dress in double quick time. This din is 
 horrible !" said Mr. Jenkins, who was a rough sort 
 of a man, though well meaning in a general way. 
 
 Poor Mrs. Jenkins was not helped by this in 
 the smallest degree. Her hands shook, and her 
 knees trembled, as she hurried on her garments, 
 and drew them together. Baby's screams increased 
 in power up to the moment the last pin was .in 
 serted, and did not cease until lifted from the bed 
 and held tightly against her mother's bosom. The 
 pale face, that bent itself down until it touched the 
 face of the little one, was now wet with tears. The 
 mother felt weak and discouraged. 
 
 Mrs. Jenkins had recently become a church 
 member, and was trying to regulate her life by the 
 pure precepts of religion. Her husband, on the 
 other hand, cared for little beyond his business; 
 and sought for the accomplishments of nothing 
 besides the merest natural ends. The boundaries 
 of this world limited his hopes and aspirations. In 
 the main, he was a kind husband, and, in the esti 
 mation of his neighbors, " a good sort of a man, 
 but wide awake to his own interests." Mr. Jen.-
 
 i4:b STEPS TOWAKD 
 
 kins had not yet learned to think out of himself, as 
 it were, nor to calculate with accuracy the effect 
 of his words and conduct upon others. The conse 
 quence was, that he was all the time doing or say 
 ing something that hurt or shadowed the feelings 
 of his wife, who was sensitive. In his rough speech 
 and imperative demand about the baby, Mr. Jenkins 
 did not feel half the ill nature that to his wife was 
 expressed in his voice and manner, and was wholly 
 unconscious of the jar and pain they occasioned. 
 
 As Mrs. Jenkins sat with her tearful face pressed 
 down upon the face of her now quiet baby, she 
 endeavored to lift her heart upwards in a prayer 
 for strength to endure patiently the trials of her 
 life ; but, even while the petition quivered on her 
 lips, a call from waking children in the next room 
 drew back her thoughts, and gave another jar to 
 her feelings ; for the call was made in fretful voices, 
 accompanied by the too-well known signs of con 
 tention. The sudden start she gave sent a pain, 
 through her head. 
 
 " Oh, dear !" sighed the mother, " my strength is 
 not equal to my burdens. If I felt well and strong, 
 it would be different ; but, in my weak state, how 
 can I keep up ? How can I do my duty 2"
 
 TRIALS OF A DAT. 149 
 
 " Mother !" called the loud, angry voice of a 
 little girl, " make Anna give me my stocking 1" 
 
 " I hav'n't got her stocking !" retorted Anna, 
 in even a louder and more ear-shocking voice. 
 
 "You have, I say! Now give it to me this 
 minute !" 
 
 " It is not yours ! I won't 1" 
 
 "Mother!" 
 
 " Good gracious, Jane !" exclaimed Mr. Jenkins, 
 starting up in bed, " why don't you stop that quar 
 relling? It's dreadful !" 
 
 Mrs. Jenkins did not reply to her husband, 
 although a cutting retort came to her lips, but 
 went immediately into the next room to restore 
 harmony, if possible. She found her two little 
 girls struggling together for the possession of a 
 stocking that each claimed. To punish them both 
 on the spot, was the first impulse of her mind; and 
 she had even raised her hand, in sudden anger, to 
 strike, when better counsels prevailed. 
 
 " I must control myself, as a Christian woman," 
 she said, " or I cannot control them." 
 
 And so she held back resolutely her excited feel 
 ings, and merely uttered, with forced calmness, yet 
 in grave rebuke, the names of her children. The
 
 150 STEPS TOWABDS HEAVEN. 
 
 two little girls were passive instantly. There was 
 something in the tone and look of their mother 
 which they felt no inclination to oppose. It went 
 past their external strife of feeling, and calmed the 
 inner turbulence at once. 
 
 " Now, let me see the stocking." She spoke in 
 a low, but serious voice. 
 
 Anna placed the stocking in her mother's hand. 
 Mrs. Jenkins looked at it for a moment, and then 
 held it close to the eyes of the little girl. 
 
 ""Whose stocking is that, Anna?" she asked 
 steadily. 
 
 " Mary's," answered the child, crimsoning, and 
 hanging down her head. 
 
 " You said just now it was yours." 
 
 " I thought it was." 
 
 " I think I heard you call Mary a bad name. 
 "Was that right ?" 
 
 " No, ma'am," answered the child, subdued by 
 the calmness of her mother's exterior. 
 
 " Why did you call her that name ?" 
 
 " I was angry," said Anna. 
 
 " And hardly knew what you were saying or 
 doingr 91 ' 
 
 u I don't tmnk I did, motaer. BUG JL-JK sorry ;
 
 THE TRIALS OF A DAT. 151 
 
 and if you'll forgive me, I'll ask Mary's pardon, for 
 I was most to blame." 
 
 Now Mrs. Jenkins was really taken by surprise 
 at this confession and repentance on the part of the 
 passionate, self-willed child, whose passion and 
 self-will she had so often tried in vain to subdue 
 and control ; but never with so strong a hand upon 
 her own feelings as now. Her voice trembled a 
 little as she answered 
 
 "Mary is not altogether blameless. She per 
 mitted angry feelings to disturb her heart, and 
 harsh words to fall from her tongue. I do not, 
 therefore, think that she will permit you to ask her 
 pardon; for she has sinned also sinned against 
 that good God, whose loving angels have been 
 round your pillows all the night, protecting you 
 from evil. How much better would it have been, 
 my children, if your voices had been lifted in a 
 hymn of thanksgiving. You have made me feel 
 sad very sad." 
 
 By this time all resentment had died out of the 
 children's hearts, and the almost mournful voice of 
 their mother filled them with sorrow and regret. 
 
 "Love each other as God has loved you," said 
 Mrs. Jenkins, kissing her little girla. Tears fell
 
 152 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 over her cheeks, for her feelings were touched and 
 softened. 
 
 "Don't cry, mother! don't cry!" urged Anna 
 and Mary, throwing their small white arms around 
 her neck. "We'll be good! "We won't quarrel 
 any more. Don't cry 1" 
 
 Again the mother kissed her children, saying 
 
 " If you will love each other, I shall be happy." 
 
 "Oh, we will, mother! we will!" exclaimed 
 Anna; "and we'll help you so much. I'll dress 
 myself as quickly as I can, and hold dear little 
 Eddy for you." 
 
 " Thank you, dear ! That will be so nice I" an 
 swered the mother. 
 
 "And I'll go down and help about setting the 
 table," said Mary. " I can put on the plates and 
 the napkins, and the knives and forks." 
 
 " "What smart little girls I have !" was the 
 mother's encouraging answer. " You shall do all 
 that, Mary. So make haste and get on your clothes. 
 But, remember, the hair must be nicely brushed, 
 and everything about you as neat as a new pin. 
 My dining-room girl must be the pink of tidiness." 
 
 Singularly enough, when Mrs. Jenkins thought 
 about her head-ache, it was gone ; and so was tho
 
 THE TRIALS OF A DAT. 153 
 
 extreme lassitude from which she had suffered on 
 rising. A new life seemed coursing through her 
 veins ; and she was half in wonder at the change. 
 
 " Set baby on the bed, mother," said Anna. " I 
 can play with him and dress too." 
 
 "I'm afraid he will cry, and disturb your 
 father." 
 
 " !No, he won't. Set him down. I'll keep him 
 laughing, instead of crying ; see if I don't." 
 
 The baby felt, also, the new sphere that was 
 pervading the room. He did not resist when his 
 mother attempted to place him on the bed, and 
 made no objection to being left alone with Anna. 
 
 So that first trial of the day was passed through, 
 and Mrs. Jenkins, in endeavoring to meet it in a 
 better spirit than usual, had risen above the dark 
 ness, the irritation, and oppressive weakness that 
 seemed as if they would bear her down to the very 
 earth. Even physical pain and exhaustion had 
 disappeared under the influence of a new condition 
 of mind. Mary soon followed her mother down 
 stairs, and aided, with cheerfulness and alacrity, in 
 Betting the breakfast table, and putting things in 
 order. She was a bright little girl, and only needed 
 a calmly controlling will, and a wisely directing 
 
 1*
 
 154: STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 hand, to make her orderly and useful. It was the 
 same with Anna, who, though quick-tempered, had 
 good impulses. 
 
 Mr. Jenkins, who had been wakened by the 
 baby's loud crying, and a second time roused from 
 pleasant morning slumbers, by the angry strife of 
 Anna and Mary, heard, half in wonder, the calm 
 words which his wife had addressed to the chil 
 dren, who, in his regard, deserved summary pun 
 ishment, to begin with, and talking to afterwards. 
 He knew that his wife's mind was interested on the 
 subject of religion, and that she had become a 
 church member; but the change in her manner, 
 since attaching herself to the church, had not been 
 altogether agreeable to him. Her old lightness of 
 spirit had departed, and her feelings seemed all the 
 while shadowed. If he spoke to her a little roughly, 
 as he had been in the habit of doing, tears would 
 come into her eyes. 
 
 " If this religion," said he, " is going to fill my 
 house with gloom, if sadness is to sit forever on the 
 face of my wife, I shall do my best to banish it from 
 our dwelling." 
 
 But this little evidence of the better spirit that 
 was at work in the heart of his wife, changed ma-
 
 THE TKIALS OF A DAT. 155 
 
 terially the aspect of the case. Before, she had 
 repressed, with a strong hand, all strife between 
 her children ; subduing the external manifestation 
 of anger, but not changing the evil condition of 
 mind. The storm of her passion only obliterated 
 the external signs of theirs. The ill nature, the 
 unkindness, the hate, were all alive, and ever gain 
 ing strength under the unwise repression. Now, 
 what a change a few calm sentences had pro 
 duced ! 
 
 When Mr. Jenkins came down at breakfast- 
 time, and looked across the table at his wife, he 
 saw that her face was paler than usual. 
 
 "Are you not well, Anna?" he inquired, in a 
 tone of unusual interest. 
 
 She smiled back upon him a sudden smile that 
 made her face look beautiful, as of old, in his eyes. 
 
 " Eddy was wakeful, and I slept but poorly last 
 night," she answered. "But I feel as well as 
 usual, and better than when I got up this morning." 
 " How nicely the table looks," said Mr. Jenkins, 
 glancing around, with a pleased manner. " Have 
 you got a new girl?" 
 
 " I'm the new girl," spoke out Mary, too much 
 gratified by this commendation to keep silent.
 
 156 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 "You? Why bless my heart! Is that- so?" 
 answered the father, affecting an air of surprise. 
 
 " Yes ; Mary is the new girl ; and you don't 
 know how handy she is " 
 
 "And you've got a new nurse too, if Fin not mis 
 taken." Mr. Jenkins glanced at Anna. "]STow, 
 that's something like, my little dears," he added ; 
 " and Fm more pleased to think you've been help 
 ing your mother this morning, than if I'd found a 
 purse of gold." 
 
 What a glow of pleasure warmed every breast ! 
 What happy smiles sat on every countenance. 
 
 " But, come Jane," added Mr. Jenkins, " pour 
 out my coffee, and let me get through with break 
 fast. You're late this morning, by nearly half an 
 hour. I felt strongly tempted to get impatient and 
 scold ; but you were all doing your best, and so 
 cheerfully, too, that I hadn't the heart to be ill- 
 natured. I won't promise for to-morrow morning, 
 however." 
 
 " You mustn't be too hard on me, dear," Mrs. 
 Jenkins answered, with a faint smile, and a voice, 
 whose pleading softness went right to her husband's 
 heart. " Eddy don't sleep very well, you know, 
 and I'm broken of a good many hours' rest every
 
 THE TRIALS OF A DAT. 157 
 
 night. So, if I get sound asleep towards morning, 
 and lie a little too late, I ought to be forgiven. 
 The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak." 
 
 Mr. Jenkins couldn't just stand that. It kind of 
 choked him. 
 
 " I won't scold again, if you lie until dinner 
 time !" He answered, with sudden feeling. " I'll 
 get up myself, and with Mary's help, cook the 
 breakfast if needed. How thoughtless we strong, 
 hearty men are, sometimes," he added. "We 
 don't consider as we should, the broken rest, and 
 shattered nerves of our wives. And, now that I 
 think of it," he went on " it does seem to me, 
 that scolding and ill-nature are rather out of place 
 in our home. There is a better way for us to get 
 along, I am sure. You taught me that, Jane, 
 this morning ; and the lesson, I think will 
 abide." 
 
 " Me ? How ? Where ?" Mrs. Jenkins looked 
 across the table half in wonder 
 
 " I will tell you another time," he replied, as his 
 eyes wandered from the face of his wife to Anna 
 ind Mary. She understood him then ; and a new 
 hope sprung up in her heart, and a new strength 
 pervaded her spirit
 
 158 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 "If a single effort at self-control has worked 
 such great results as these," said Mrs. Jenkins to 
 herself, " what may I not hope to accomplish in 
 time ? God help me to overcome the selfish in- 
 clinings of my heart !" 
 
 Mr. Jenkins left his home on that morning, with 
 a new set of thoughts active in his mind ; and a 
 new impression of his wife's character. 
 
 " If religion have done that," he said, speaking 
 to himself, " then it is worth something. I've never 
 had much faith in this singing and praying ; and 
 never fancied these solemn faces. "What I want to 
 see are reformed men and women. Religion isn't 
 worth a copper if it doesn't change the life as well 
 as the heart." 
 
 All very well for Mr. Jenkins. He belonged to 
 a class. 
 
 The next trial of the day for Mrs. Jenkins ap 
 proached. The getting of Anna and Mary off to 
 school had been always attended with trouble. 
 Neither of them liked school very well ; and both 
 were in the habit of conjuring up every difficulty 
 in their power, and worrying their mother until 
 her stock of patience was exhausted. The scene 
 not unfrequently closed with a passionate outbreak
 
 THE TRIALS OF A DAT. 159 
 
 on the mother's part, accompanied by blows, when 
 the children were driven forth in tears. 
 
 Mrs. Jenkins, now that this trial was near, 
 began to experience a pressure on her feelings. 
 Her little girls had behaved very well, so far, and 
 been a great help to her; and, in consideration of this 
 and as a reward, she thought for a moment, of let 
 ting them stay at home on that day. But, she saw 
 at once, the error and weakness of this. It was 
 merely getting around, or evading a duty, not 
 meeting it in the true spirit. So, she schooled her 
 own heart to calmness, and when the time came 
 for Anna and Mary to get ready, she said, in a 
 quiet, firm way, yet smiling as she spoke : 
 
 " What next ? Time is passing ?" 
 
 Anna and Mary looked at their mother. They 
 understood her ; and she saw in their manner, that 
 the thought of school was an unpleasant one. 
 
 " I haven't seen my little girls as happy as they 
 have been this morning for a long time," she 
 said, holding their eyes in her own steady gaze. 
 u But the reason is plain. The proverb says : ' To 
 be good is to be happy.' You have been good 
 that is, useful to your mother and kind to one 
 another; and so happiness has flowed into your
 
 160 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 hearts from your Father in heaven, who is the 
 source of all true happiness. Continue to be good 
 that is to do right, and the Lord, who loves you, 
 will fill your hearts with pleasure. Now, what is 
 your next right action ?" 
 
 " To go to school," replied Anna with prompt 
 ness. 
 
 " Come !" said Mary, catching hold of her sister's 
 hand, " let us get ready in a minute, and not give 
 mother a bit of trouble. I know where all my 
 things are." 
 
 And the two children tripped away as lightly as 
 if they were about making ready for a pleasure 
 party instead of school. In a few minutes, they 
 came down, playful as kittens, and after kissing 
 their mother and the baby, went laughing, instead 
 crying, off to school. 
 
 " Isn't this wonderful !" said Mrs. Jenkins, as the 
 door closed on the children. " Oh, the power of 
 true thoughts and right purposes ! I am in amaze 
 ment at these large results from such small efforts. 
 It was not so very hard to control myself; not so 
 very hard to speak calmly, and firmly, and with 
 love, instead of anger, in my tones. Dear children ! 
 Has not your mother been most to blame for your
 
 THE TRIALS OF A DAY. 161 
 
 ill-tempers, and selfish activities? O Lord" 
 and heart and voice went upwards, " help me to 
 conquer myself to do right and to be right. Oh. 
 be strength in my weakness. Give me patience, 
 long suffering, and unselfish love !" 
 
 With what a new spirit, with what an elevation 
 of feeling, with what cheerful hope, did Mrs. Jen 
 kins move through her household duties during the 
 morning of that day ! No pain nor weakness de 
 pressed her body, and no despondency her mind ; 
 though her trials were far greater than usual, 
 arising from the fact that she had no domestic 
 in the family, she was able to meet and overcome 
 the many difficulties of her position with an ease 
 that astonished herself. 
 
 Dinner time brought home her hungry little 
 girls and their father. They came in together; 
 Mary crying out as she entered the door 
 
 " Oh, dear mother, I'm 'most starved ! Isn't 
 dinner ready? No! I declare!" Her eyes had 
 reached forward into the little dining-room, and 
 discovered that the table was not even set. " It's 
 too bad ! And I'm so hungry ! Can't I have some 
 bread and butter ?" 
 
 " Why, Jane !" said Mr. Jenkins, a frown dark-
 
 162 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 ening his face. " How could you neglect things 
 so ? If you can't have meals ready in time, there 
 is no use in coming home to them. My business 
 won't wait." 
 
 Now this was breaking in upon Mrs. Jenkins 
 rather roughly, and the sudden jar came near 
 throwing her spirit from its even balance. But, 
 from a quick sense of fear, she rallied herself, and, 
 with a smile on her lips, said to her husband, in an 
 even, penetrating voice 
 
 " Don't be too hard on me, dear. Remember, I 
 have no girl. Be a little patient, and I'll promise 
 to have a good dinner on the table in ten minutes 
 by the watch. I've been doing my best." 
 
 "Not a word more, Jane," answered Mr. Jen 
 kins. " 1 stand rebuked. Ten minutes won't sig 
 nify, here nor there. I know you've done your 
 best, as you always do." 
 
 " Can't I have some bread and butter ?" Mary 
 jerked at her mother's dress, and cried out in a 
 very cross way. 
 
 "I'll tell you what you can have, my child," 
 said Mrs. Jenkins, in a pleasant tone of voice. 
 
 " What, mother ?" Anna's face brightened ** 
 little.
 
 THE TRIALS OF A DAT. 163 
 
 "The pleasure of helping me as you did this 
 morning. You know you are my little waiting- 
 maid. It is late, and father is in a hurry for his 
 dinner. Move around quickly, and get the table 
 set, while I see to dishing up the meat and vege 
 tables." 
 
 Mary sprang away to the dining-room, and soon 
 the air was musical with the rattle of plates, and 
 the jingle of knives, forks, and spoons ; while Mrs. 
 Jenkins, with lightened feelings, went into the 
 kitchen to take up the dinner. In less than ten 
 minutes the dinner-bell rung. 
 
 " Well, that is quick work !" said Mr. Jenkins, as 
 he sat down to the table. " There must have been 
 Borne magic in the case." 
 
 He looked particularly well pleased. 
 
 " I'll try to be up to the minute to-morrow," an 
 swered Mrs. Jenkins. " But if I fail a little, you 
 must all help me by your patience. It does me a 
 world of good. It is not from willful neglect that 
 I am behindhand in anything." 
 
 Mrs. Jenkins did not mean to rebuke her hus- ' 
 band ; but, what she then said, he felt as a reproof. 
 'His eyes were opened to a juster estimate of his 
 wife, to a higher appreciation of her character,
 
 164 STEPS TOWAKDS HEAVEN. 
 
 and to his own spirit of selfish exaction. How dif 
 ferent all would have been if, instead of exercising 
 Christian patience, Mrs. Jenkins had permitted, as 
 she had often done before, wounded feelings to 
 blind, and passion to destroy, her self-control. 
 And she had her reward in a tranquil spirit, and 
 in a humble self approval. 
 
 The evening of that day, which opened with 
 such evil promise, closed peacefully for the house 
 hold of Mr. Jenkins. 
 
 " How did you manage to work such a wonder 
 ful transformation in yourself, in the children, and 
 even in your husband," said Mr. Jenkins, as he 
 leaned towards his wife across the little sewing- 
 table. The children were all in bed and asleep, 
 and they sat alone, talking of the day's incidents, 
 trials, and conquests. " It seems to me almost like 
 a dream." 
 
 " Not in my own strength, dear husband " re 
 plied Mrs. Jenkins, her voice trembling, and her 
 eyes glistening with tears. "I never felt weaker, 
 or more unfitted for the day's trials, than I did this 
 morning. I had lost sleep with Eddy, and when I 
 awoke, I felt so weak and nervous that I could 
 scarcely rise. Before I had dressed myself, a head-
 
 THE TRIALS OF A DAT. 165 
 
 ache set in. Baby screamed; husband scolded, 
 Anna and Mary quarrelled. I felt that the trial 
 was beyond my strength and so it was. In my 
 weakness and despair, I looked up and prayed for 
 patience, wisdom, and endurance ; and God helped 
 me in my extremity. He gave me patience, self- 
 control, and wisdom, for right action. Of myself, 
 I had no power for good ; in Him, I have overcome 
 the enemies that sought to destroy my peace." 
 
 Mr. Jenkins let his eyes fall from the earnest face 
 of his wife, and for some moments looked down 
 upon the floor. 
 
 " If that is what you call religion, Jane," he said, 
 looking up, " I think the more the world has of it 
 the better. It does not contain a single element of 
 sadness ; but, on the contrary, banishes gloom, and 
 scatters good deeds and sunshine all around. If it 
 has carried you, cheerfully, through a day com 
 menced in such dark promise, what a blessed life- 
 companion it must be ! I understand now what 
 religion really is ; what trust in the Lord is ; what 
 prayer for divine strength means." 
 
 " May he give you that strength, my husband," 
 said Mrs. Jenkins, fervently. " Oh, look up to 
 Him, and he will aid you in trial, and in tempta- 

 
 166 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 tion, as he lias aided me. Let us walk together in 
 this new way. Let us help one another." 
 
 Mr. Jenkins gave his hand to his wife, and, as 
 he felt its eager clasp, he answered 
 
 "Teach and lead me by your sweet example, 
 Jane, as you have taught me to-day. I may not 
 be a very rapid scholar, but I will be learning 
 something all the while, if you will but look past 
 my roughness and hardness, which is more on the 
 surface than in the heart, and still keep repeating 
 your lessons, though the scholar be dull, and, at 
 times, rebellious. You shall have your reward in 
 the end." 
 
 And Mr. Jenkins was right. She had her re 
 ward. Years afterwards she would look back and 
 bless the trials of that first day of truly Christian 
 warfare. Her conquests then were only the begin 
 ning of a series of conquests over the evils of her 
 nature. Daily, as she entered into her duties, and 
 performed them from a principle of religion, did 
 she gain new power, and rise into higher states of 
 enjoyment. The circle of her life seemed ever 
 sweeping in ascending spirals. How beautifully 
 and effectively, did the Christian wife and mother 
 illustrate the doctrine she professed, by an untiring
 
 THE TRIALS OF A DAY. 167 
 
 devotion of herself to the good of her husband and 
 children! From them she had honor and love. 
 Best of all, in her eyes, was their daily growth into 
 the likeness and image of God, through self-denials, 
 patience, repression of evil, and good deeds done 
 in the name of charity. Yes, she had her reward, 
 and it was given in rich abundance.
 
 368 STEPS TOWAKDS HEAVEN. 
 
 XYI. 
 AXGEL VISITS. 
 
 THEY do not always visit us in beautiful gar- 
 ments,making the air golden with their sunny smiles. 
 Oftener, they come in sober-hued vestments, with 
 lips grief- curved, and eyes heavy, as from weeping. 
 But, come to us when and how they will, it is ever 
 in love. Daily they are about our paths, though 
 we perceive them not with our dull bodily senses ; 
 nor even recognize their presence by the spirit's 
 finer instincts for, " of the earth earthy," as we are, 
 and with affections clinging to the earth, we have 
 neither eyes nor ears for the inner sights and inner 
 voices which are for the pure in heart. Yes, they 
 are about our daily paths, smoothing and making 
 them flowery when they may ; but oftener piling 
 up obstructions and making them rough and 
 thorny. 
 
 " Rough and thorny ! Piling up obstructions !"
 
 ANGEL VISITS. 169 
 
 we hear from the lips of some life-weary sufferer. 
 " Is this a work for angels ?" 
 
 Beautiful seemed the way before you, in the 
 bright morning of early womanhood, heart-sick and 
 life-weary one ! And as your eyes went far on 
 ward, how many lovely vistas opened, showing 
 blessed Arcadias in the smiling distance ! To gain 
 them was, you felt, to gain heaven ; and onward you 
 pressed with eager footsteps. You did not gain 
 them ! For a while, the path was even, and the 
 fragrance of a hundred blossoms delighted your 
 senses. But all at once your feet were wounded 
 there were sharp obstructions in the way; then 
 thick clouds and darkness were before you, hiding 
 the lovely Eden. Still, you pressed onward, though 
 the way was rough, and the sunny vistas opening 
 to the land of promise, were hidden from your 
 straining vision. Then a mountain arose suddenly, 
 whose rocky steeps you could not climb. Despair 
 was in your heart ; and in the bitterness of your 
 disappointment you called yourself one mocked of 
 God. 
 
 It was not so, precious immortal ! Not so, pil 
 grim to a better land than the Arcadia of your 
 maiden dreams ! At the very foot of that inacces- 
 
 8
 
 170 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 sible mountain, a narrow path became visible ; and 
 though it looked rough and had no green margin, 
 beautiful with flowers, there was an emotion of 
 thankfulness in your heart for even this way of 
 escape : for, already a mortal dread had seized 
 upon your spirit. With hurrying footsteps you 
 entered this new way, and the hope that it would 
 quickly lead around the mountain, and bring the 
 sunny land again in view, repressed the fear that 
 else had been paralyzing. 
 
 It was the hand of an angel which led you into 
 that new way, and kept your heart from fainting 
 Narrow, rough and flowerless though it proved, it 
 was a better way than that along which you were 
 passing with such buoyant steps for it bent heaven 
 ward. And think, life-weary one ! do you not feel 
 that you are nearer heaven now than when the sun 
 of this world shone from an unclouded sky above 
 the path of pleasure and prosperity ? Think, and 
 answer to yourself the question. 
 
 A heart-stricken mother sat grieving for the loss 
 of her youngest-born, the sweetest and loveliest of 
 her precious flock grieving and refusing to be 
 comforted. There had been loving sympathy, 
 gentle remonstrance, and pious teaching from the
 
 ANGEL VISITS. 171 
 
 lips of the minister who had a year before touched 
 the forehead of her babe with the waters of bap 
 tism ; but all availed not the fountain of tears 
 stayed not its waters, nor was the murmuring voice 
 hushed in her rebellious spirit. At length, one 
 came to her who had known a like sorrow, and 
 whose heart had, even like hers, been bowed into 
 the very dust. She took into her own soft hand the 
 passive hand of the mourner, which gave not back 
 a sign. A little while she held it, clasping her 
 fingers in a gentle pressure ; then in a voice whose 
 tender modulations went vibrating to the inmost of 
 her spirit, she said : 
 
 " You had an angel visit last night." 
 
 An angel visit ! What did the words signify ? 
 
 " Only a year has passed since I had a like visit," 
 continued the friend. "I did not recognize the 
 heavenly messenger when she came, for my eyes 
 were too full of tears to see her radiant form. She 
 came and went, bearing on her bosom as she passed 
 upward to the regions of eternal sunshine, the spirit 
 of my lovely boy !" 
 
 The hand of the mourner answered to the light 
 pressure of that in which it lay. That night, went 
 on the comforter, " I saw in a dream I call it a
 
 172 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 dream, but regard it as a revelation my translated 
 one among the blessed in the upper kingdom of our 
 Father. He was in the arms of the angel-mother, 
 whose love for him it was plain to see was wise and 
 tender, surpassing all my own deep affection, as 
 far as the unselfish love of an angel surpasses the 
 love of a weak and erring creature of earth. 
 
 " * Grieve no more !' said the heavenly being, aa 
 she came to me. * I have not taken this innocent one 
 from you in anger or cruelty, but in love love for 
 both the mother and child. As for him, he is safe 
 in his celestial home for ever, and is and will be 
 blessed far above anything you could ask for it 
 hath not entered into the heart of even a mother to 
 conceive what transcendent delights are in store for 
 those who are born into heaven. Is it not, there 
 fore, better for your child ? Were I to say, take 
 him again into the cold, dark world of sorrow, sin 
 and suffering, would you bear him back? No, 
 grieving mother, no ! You love this precious one 
 too well. But, how is it better for you to lose the 
 child in whom your heart was so bound up ? I see 
 the question on your lips, and answer, That is 
 always best which lifts the spirit nearest to God. 
 Is it not so ? Think ! Not with a heavenly, but
 
 ANGEL VISITS. 173 
 
 with an earthly and selfish aiiection, did you love 
 your child, and such an affection can not truly bless 
 either you or your babe. It is now in heaven, and 
 as your heart follows it there, it will come into 
 heavenly associations, and thus be filled with aspi 
 rations for that higher life which descends from 
 and bears back its recipient into heaven. Grieving 
 one ! I came to you in mercy ; and though tears 
 have followed my visit, they are falling on good 
 seeds planted in your heart.' 
 
 "Thus spoke to me that angel-mother of my 
 child, and ever since, her words have been my stay 
 and comfort. Such an angel came to you last 
 night, grieving friend. The visit was in love, not 
 in anger. Then lift your eyes upward, and no 
 longer permit them to rest on the gloomy grave. 
 The spirit of your child has already arisen, more 
 beautiful in form, and is now with the angels ap 
 pointed for its guardianship. The wiser love of oui 
 good Father hath transplanted a flower of earth to 
 blossom in the warmer atmosphere of heaven. Be 
 thankful, then, dear friend. Oh, be thanful ! but 
 weep not !" 
 
 And the heart, which no words of consolation had 
 been able to 'each, felt itself swelling with a deep
 
 174 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVES'. 
 
 emotion / and lifting itself upwards towards the 
 All-merciful. 
 
 " I will believe that it was an angel who came 
 here last night and bore away my child," she whis 
 pered, as with shut eyes, fringed by tear-gemmed 
 lashes, she bowed her head upon the bosom of her 
 consoler. " Oh, if anything can soothe the anguish 
 of this bereavement, it is to know that my precious 
 babe, for whom I have cared so tenderly, passed 
 from my arms to those of an angel ; and that he 
 was thus borne safely across the dark valley into 
 which I looked down with such a heart-shudder. 
 I bless you for speaking such words of consola 
 tion!" 
 
 Not alone in misfortune or bereavement do an 
 gels visit us. They do not always make the way 
 rough, nor always darken the fires around whick 
 we gather. Daily they come to us ; hourly they 
 seek to draw nearer, and quicken our better im 
 pulses. A thousand evils soul-destroying evils 
 are warded off by them, even though we are un 
 conscious of their presence, and, it may be, resist 
 the very influences by which such priceless benefits 
 are conferred. 
 
 " Ah !" we hear it said, " if we could but open
 
 ANGEL VISITS. 175 
 
 our eyes and see ; if the scales that obstruct our 
 inner vision could be removed : if we could know 
 our celestial visitors when they come !" 
 
 We may know them, and we may perceive their 
 presence. Whether we are in prosperity or in 
 adversity, in joy or in sorrow, angel visitors are 
 with us whenever the thought goes upward, and 
 the heart yearns for a better life. Their mission to 
 the sons of men is to draw them heavenward ; and 
 if sorrow, affliction, or adversity is needed for the 
 accomplishment of this great end, they are made 
 subservient in the good work. But when, in their 
 high mission, they bow a thirsty soul to the bitter 
 waters of Marah, their hands hold not back the 
 healing branch ; and a song of rejoicing is soon 
 heard instead of lamentation. Elim, with its twelve 
 wells of water and seventy palm-trees, is just 
 beyond. 
 
 Happy is tnat spirit to which the angels come 
 not on their errands of mercy in vain !
 
 176 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 XVII. 
 ALGERNON, THE MERCHANT. 
 
 THE day closed, and Algernon, the merchant, 
 turned thoughtfully from his counting-room, and 
 took his way homeward. Almost without inter 
 mission, since morning, had he been absorbed in 
 his money schemes, gathering in golden sheaves of 
 wealth from the harvest-fields of trade. 
 
 " Am I happier for all this ?" he said, question 
 ing with himself ; " does the larger increase add 
 to my pleasure ? Do houses and lands bring peace 
 of mind, or ships upon the ocean a tranquil spirit ? 
 Bather, do not all these things multiply cares ? Is 
 my sleep sounder than it was twenty years ago, or 
 my heart lighter ?" 
 
 Away back into the past went his thoughts, as 
 the last sentence was uttered, and he remembered 
 the time when, with the closing of day, he could 
 dismiss the day's business, and find a pure delight
 
 ALGERNON THE MERCHANT 1T7 
 
 in the humble home where wife and children wel 
 comed his return with gladness. Now his magnifi 
 cent dwelling was as little enjoyed as a prisoner's 
 cell ; for his affections were not there, but winging 
 iheir way, with his thoughts, afar off, to distant 
 seas or strange lands, or hovering about amid 
 brilliant schemes, golden with the promise of untold 
 wealth. 
 
 Algernon sighed as he contrasted days gone by 
 with the present, and his heart acknowledged that 
 he was happier then than now. The merchant was 
 in a softer mood than usual ; and it was well for 
 the half-starving women, whose white face looked 
 into his imploringly, that it was so. She had 
 thrown herself, almost desperately, in his way, just 
 as he turned from the crowded thoroughfare into a 
 less frequented street, not far from his luxurious 
 home, and with this appeal 
 
 " If you have children, sir, pity mine !" 
 
 " What of your children ?" asked the merchant, 
 as he stood still, and looked into the woman's pale, 
 pleading face, down upon which the rays of the 
 gas lamp fell, and showed its lines of sorrow and 
 suffering. 
 
 "They are hungry, and I have no food for 
 8*
 
 178 BTEP8 TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 them ; they are sick, and I cannot get them medi 
 cine." 
 
 " Is this true ?" said the merchant, half in doubt. 
 Such extremity seemed almost impossible to him. 
 
 " Come and see 1 Oh, sir, come and see !" Hope, 
 doubt, anguish, all blended in that mother's voice. 
 
 " Where is your home ?" asked Algernon. 
 
 " Only in the next street," was replied. 
 
 " I will go with you. Lead the way." 
 
 Hurrying on before with rapid feet went the 
 eager woman ; following, with a quicker move 
 ment than usual, came the merchant. They were 
 soon at an old pile of buildings, not far from the 
 place of meeting. The woman entered, and Al 
 gernon followed. The sight that met his eye 
 stirred all the man within him, and awakened his 
 utmost pity. A sick child, with hollow cheeks, 
 waxen face, and large, glistening eyes, lay upon an 
 old quilt on the floor; another wan-looking child 
 sat crouching in the chimney corner, trying to 
 warm her half-naked body by the almost imper 
 ceptible heat of a few dying coals ; while a third, 
 not over six years of age, stood on the other side 
 of the fireplace, mumbling at a bone from which it 
 was impossible to extract nutrition.
 
 ALGERNON THE MERCHANT. 179 
 
 " It is even so," said the merchant, as he glanced 
 in painful surprise about the room. Then he gave 
 the woman money, and told her to go quickly for 
 food to nourish her children, and fuel to warm 
 them. Nor did humanity end its good work here. 
 He went to a store in the neighborhood, and pur 
 chased beds and bed clothing for the destitute 
 family, and saw these comforts conveyed to the 
 room they occupied, and the children, after being 
 warmed and fed, laid in them with their faces full 
 of wonder and gladness. 
 
 In a single half-hour Algernon, the merchant 
 had changed the cold, desolate home of a poor 
 widow into what to her and her children was now 
 a Paradise of comfort. There was a large glowing 
 fire upon the hearth, making the air of the room 
 rosy with light, and genial with warmth. Added 
 to a few broken chairs and an old table, which 
 constituted the only furniture in the apartment, 
 were two plain bedsteads, with beds and warm 
 clothing laid over them, giving their promise of 
 rest and comfort in the long cold nights. Flour, 
 meal, meat, bread, sufficient to supply the little 
 family for weeks, were piled up in one corner, and 
 the mother crumpled tightly in her hands a slip of
 
 180 STEPS rcmABDS HEAVEN. 
 
 paper containing an order for fuel enough to last 
 the winter through. 
 
 " May He who pities the widow and the father 
 less be better to you than this, even a thousand 
 fold 1" said the woman, as Algernon was leaving. 
 Her eyes were full of tears, but the heart's warm 
 glow of thankfulness was on her face and in her 
 voice. " And may the memory of this good deed 
 go with you as a blessing through life !" 
 
 An hour later, and the merchant sat alone in one 
 of the luxurious apartments of his palace-home. A 
 book lay on the table beside him, and his hand 
 rested upon an open page. He had been reading, 
 and this sentiment had arrested his attention, and 
 given his thoughts a new direction " "We only 
 possess what we have bestowed." At first the 
 strangely-sounding apothegm struck him as a par 
 adox. 
 
 " Possess only what we have bestowed !" said he, 
 talking with himself. " How can I possess what I 
 have given to another ? The thing is absurd. And 
 yet this writer is not in the habit of uttering absurd 
 things. What does he mean ?" 
 
 Algernon turned to the book again and read on. 
 ' Only what we enjoy do we really possess." He
 
 ALGERNON THE MERCHANT. 181 
 
 lifted his eyes from the page again, and mused on 
 this other proposition. 
 
 " There is truth somewhere here a newer and 
 higher truth than my thought has yet apprehend 
 ed," Algernon talked on again with himself. " I 
 have acquired great possessions are they enjoyed? 
 Am I happier now than when my wealth could be 
 told in half the figures it now takes to record the 
 sum ? I have lands, houses, ships, gold, merchan 
 dise do I really possess them that is, in this 
 sense of enjoyment ? Do they not, in fact, weigh 
 heavier upon my spirit with each new accumula 
 tion, making possession but a mockery ?" 
 
 From ships, and merchandise, houses and lands, 
 the thought of Algernon turned to the widow and 
 her children, relieved from suffering under the sud 
 den activity of an impulsive benevolence. 
 
 Instantly a glow of pleasure warmed his heart, 
 and a thrill of delight went trembling to the very 
 centre of his being. Thirty dollars had this good 
 deed cost him in money ; and already he was in 
 the possession of higher enjoyments therefrom than 
 all his day's large accumulations had given. 
 
 "This I possess 1" he said, with rising enthusi 
 asm. "This I have for all time, and for all eternity,
 
 182 6TEP8 TOWAEDB HEAVEN. 
 
 a source of perennial pleasure. Moth cannot cor 
 rupt it, fire cannot burn it, thieves cannot break 
 through and steal it away. I can lay me down in 
 the grave, and yet not lose my hold upon it. Is 
 not this possession in its sublimest sense I" 
 
 Then the thoughts of Algernon went back upon 
 his life, turning the pages of memory, and search 
 ing for the good deeds he had done. They were 
 " few and far between," but around each was a 
 halo that illumined the whole page. Side by 
 side with the good deeds were recorded the gains 
 of the merchant ; but always some other memory 
 shadowed these records of gain, and robbed them 
 blessing. 
 
 "These these," said the merchant, as his 
 thoughts returned to the present, " are my only 
 real possessions. And yet how few they are how 
 poor I am! Algernon, the rich merchant, has 
 made small accumulations, indeed! But, thanks 
 to the Teacher, he has found the way that leads to 
 another El Dorado."
 
 ENEMIES. 183 
 
 XVIII. 
 ENEMIES. 
 
 * I know whose work that is," said Mrs. Edwards. 
 " I can trace her hand in every part of it." The 
 speaker's brow grew dark, and her eyes flashed 
 with anger. " She's bound to do me all the harm 
 she can ; but I will be even with her." 
 
 " Why should Mrs. Grant seek to injure you 3" 
 inquired the lady to whom the above remark was 
 addressed. 
 
 " Because she is an enemy." 
 
 " An enemy ?" 
 
 " Yes, an enemy. And she is not the only one I 
 have." 
 
 "Why should you have enemies, Mrs. Edwards?" 
 asked the lady. 
 
 " Why does any one have enemies ? Let a man 
 go straight forward through the world indepen 
 dent, self-reliant, yielding to none, humoring none
 
 184 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 and, my word for it, he will find himself encom 
 passed with a cloud of enemies. People never for 
 give those who are indifferent to them." 
 
 " Indifferent ! What do you mean by indiffer 
 ent? Let me understand you clearly, Mrs. Ed 
 wards." 
 
 " I make my own world," was answered ; " or, at 
 least, make it up of my own, and leave my neigh 
 bors to do the same. I concern myself only about 
 my own things, and never give encouragement to 
 meddlers, of whom there are a great abundance. 
 Out of every three persons you meet, two will be 
 found over inquisitive in regard to your affairs. I 
 uever gratify them." 
 
 "Why?" was the quiet inquiry. 
 
 " Because it is none of their business. As, for 
 instance, there is Mrs. Lewis. If I buy a new 
 dress, a piece of lace, or linen, or make any addi 
 tion to my wardrobe that she happens to discover, 
 straightway leaps out a question as to the price. 
 But she never gets anything out of me." 
 
 " How do you manage, in such cases, so as not to 
 give offence ?" 
 
 " Sometimes I evade the question ; sometimes I 
 mislead by giving a price higher or lower than waa
 
 ENEMIES. 18i) 
 
 actually paid ; and sometimes I deal in a little sar 
 casm, that may be taken or not, as the person 
 chooses. But nothing is ever learned of my affairs. 
 What I pay for goods, and where I buy them, is 
 my own affair altogether." 
 
 " And your neighbors too, I think, if the know 
 ledge is of service to them, and no loss to you," 
 said the lady with whom Mrs. Edwards was con 
 versing. 
 
 " I don't see it so," was firmly answered. " Let 
 people do their own shopping, and find the cheap 
 places and choice patterns for themselves. I'm not 
 disposed to gain knowledge for their advantage." 
 
 " Our candle burns none the dimmer for the 
 light it gives to the candle of another." 
 
 "Let people strike their own fires, say I," re 
 turned Mrs. Edwards. "I have enough to do to 
 take care of my own. This running about to light 
 the candles of people who are too idle or indif 
 ferent to keep their own a-blaze, doesn't suit my 
 genius. I'm not one of the over-charitable kind. 
 Mind your own business is my life-precept." 
 
 " There need be no running about to light other 
 people's candles," said the lady. " But it should 
 give us pleasure to communicate, when a person
 
 186 BTEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 asks to profit by onr skill, knowledge, or expe 
 rience, if the information may be given without 
 injury to ourselves." 
 
 " It doesn't give me any pleasure," replied Mrs. 
 Edwards, with an expression in her tone and coun 
 tenance that repelled her acquaintance, who re 
 membered more than one instance in which she 
 had herself very innocently asked questions that 
 were answered with evasion 
 
 " Perhaps," she ventured to remark, " if you were 
 to try the experiment a few times, you would find 
 a higher pleasure in it than you imagine." 
 
 " I have no wish to make it, whatever. My own 
 way just suits me. I am neither debtor nor creditor 
 to the world. "We stand at quits." 
 
 " Indeed ! Then I don't wonder that you have 
 enemies, and they of the worst kind ; having power 
 to do you harm." 
 
 " What harm ?" The lady's manner struck Mrs. 
 Edwards as involving some deeper meaning than 
 was apparent on the surface. 
 
 " Harm to your soul," was answered, in a serious 
 tone of voice. 
 
 " Oh !" Mrs. Edwards slightly tossed her head. 
 
 " Our real enemies," said the lady, " are within
 
 ENEMIES. 187 
 
 us. Those who stand upon the outside men and 
 women who, from evil purpose, seek to do us harm 
 can only shatter the external a little, but have 
 no power over the real man. They cannot hurt a 
 hair of our head. Selfish feelings alone are our 
 real enemies, for they hurt the soul ; marring its 
 beauty, exhausting its strength, deforming its 
 limbs, and changing it from the image of God into 
 a monster. "We cannot live the life of heaven here, 
 Mrs. Edwards, upon your exclusive principle par 
 don my freedom of speech. God placed us here, 
 that we might ascend to heaven through the way 
 of good deeds, having their inspiration in a loving 
 spirit. If you refuse to let another's candle be 
 lighted at yours selfishly refuse the light of 
 God's love will go out in your soul, and leave you 
 in the darkness of eternal night." 
 
 The lady arose, and moved a step away from 
 Mrs. Edwards, not doubting that she had given 
 offence, and half regretting that she had been 
 betrayed into such plainness of speech. But the 
 boldness of her positions, the almost solemn man 
 ner in which she had spoken, and, withal, her 
 social standing and estimable character all had the 
 effect to startle, rather than offend Mrs. Edwards.
 
 188 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 " You have a strange way of talking," said the 
 latter, rising at the same time, and looking steadily, 
 but without sign of feeling, at her free-spoken 
 monitor. 
 
 " I have given utterance only to words of truth, 
 and they have no limited or merely individual ap 
 plication, but involve the laws of heavenly life," 
 was calmly answered. " As I have not meant to 
 offend, I trust you will not take offence. I have 
 spoken to do you good, not evil as a friend, and not 
 as an enemy." 
 
 "I am not quite so bad," said Mrs. Edwards, 
 with signs of feeling, " as my words make me out. 
 I talk a little at random, and perhaps a little in 
 earnest, sometimes. But I thank you for the truth, 
 and honor you for womanly candor. The enemies 
 you have pointed out, I will watch, lest, in an un 
 guarded moment, they do me some fatal injury." 
 
 " None others can do us real harm," was gently 
 answered. "Heaven guards us from all outside 
 enemies, or gives us strength to overcome their 
 assaults. Only the secret foes, lurking in our own 
 breasts, can wound us in vital places."
 
 DUTY AND KINDNESS 189 
 
 XIX. 
 DUTY AND KINDNESS. 
 
 THERE was an angry frown on the countenance 
 of Deacon Jonas Browning. There were tears on 
 on the sad face of his wife. 
 
 " He shall be sent to sea !" said Deacon Brown 
 ing, sternly. 
 
 There was a pleading look in the eyes of Mrs. 
 Browning, as she lifted them to the iron face of her 
 husband. But no words passed her lips. 
 
 " He shall be sent to sea ! It is my last hope." 
 
 " Philip is very young, Jonas," said Mrs. Brown 
 ing. 
 
 " Not too young for evil, and, therefore, not too 
 young for the discipline needed to eradicate evil. 
 He shall go to sea ! Captain Ellis sails in the Fanny 
 "Williams on next Monday. I will call upon him 
 this very day." 
 
 " Isn't the Fanny Williams a whaler ?" The lips
 
 190 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 of Mrs. Browning quivered, and her voice had a 
 choking sound. 
 
 " Yes," was firmly answered. 
 
 " I wouldn't send him away in a whaler, Jonas. 
 Remember he is very young, not thirteen until 
 next April." 
 
 " Young or old, Mary, he's got to go," said the 
 stern deacon, who was a believer in the gospel of 
 law. He was no weak advocate of moral suasion, 
 as it is familiarly termed. He went in for law, and 
 was a strict constructionist. Implicit obedience 
 was the statute for home, and all deviations there 
 from met the never withheld penalty. 
 
 Mrs. Browning entered into no argument with 
 her husband, for she knew that would be useless. 
 She had never succeeded in changing his purpose 
 by argument in her life. And so she bent her eyes 
 meekly to the floor again, while the tears crept 
 over her face, and fell in large bright drops upon 
 the carpet. Deacon Browning saw the tears, but 
 they did not move him. He was tear-proof. 
 
 Philip, the offending member of the Browning 
 family, was a bright, active, restless boy, who, from 
 the start, had been a rebel against unreasonable 
 authority, and, as a matter of course, not unfre-
 
 DUTY AND KINDNESS. 191 
 
 quently against authority both just and reasonable. 
 Punishment had only hardened him; increasing, 
 instead of diminishing, his power of endurance. 
 The particular offence for which he was now in 
 disgrace, was, it must be owned, rather a serious 
 one. He had, in company with three other boys of 
 his age, known as the greatest reprobates in the 
 village, rifled a choice plum tree, belonging to a 
 neighbor, of all the fruit it contained, and then 
 killed a favorite dog, which, happening to discover 
 them at their wicked work, attempted to drive 
 them from the garden. The neighbor had com 
 plained to Deacon Browning, accompanying his 
 complaint with a threat to have Philip arrested foi 
 stealing. 
 
 " If you don't do something with that boy of 
 yours," he added with considerable feeling, " he'll 
 end his days in the State Prison, or on the gallows." 
 
 Hard words were these for the ears of Deacon 
 Browning, the rigidly righteous ! Hard words, and 
 with a prophetic conviction in them. He had not 
 a very creative imagination, but in this instance 
 the prediction of his angry neighbor conjured up 
 in his mind the image of a prison and a gallows, 
 causing a shudder to pass along his nerves, and the
 
 192 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 cold perspiration to start upon his forehead. From 
 that moment the resolution of Deacon Browning 
 was taken. 
 
 The boy was on the brink of ruin, and must be 
 saved at all hazards. As to the means of doing 
 this, it never entered into the heart of Deacon 
 Browning to conceive of any other than such as 
 involved harsh discipline. The Canaanite was in 
 the land and must be driven out with fire and 
 sword. With him the word duty had a stern sig 
 nificance. He had always tried to do his duty, 
 moving steadily onward in the path of life, and 
 crushing down all vanities and evils that sprang 
 up by the way, under a heel shod with iron. 
 
 " He shall be sent to sea !" That was the last 
 desperate remedy. In his mind, as in the minds of 
 many like him, some years ago, a ship was the 
 great school of reform ; and when a boy was 
 deemed incorrigible, he was sent off to sea, usually 
 to have his evil inclinations hardened into perma 
 nent qualities. 
 
 When Deacon Browning met his son Philip, 
 after receiving intelligence of his great offence, i^ 
 was with a stern, angry repulsion. He did not see 
 the look of appeal, the sign of repentance, the plea
 
 DUTY AND KINDNESS. 193 
 
 for mercy, that was in his tearful eyes. A single 
 word of kindness would have broken up the great 
 deep of the boy's heart, and impelled by the 
 warmer impulses inherited from his mother, he 
 would have flung himself, weeping, into his father's 
 arms. But Deacon Browning had separated duty 
 from kindness. The one was a stern corrector of 
 evil, the other a smiling approver of good. 
 
 From his home to the wharf, where the Fanny 
 "Williams lay, all equipped for sea, Deacon Brown 
 ing bent his steps. Captain Ellis, a rough, hard 
 man, was on board. After listening to the father's 
 Btory and request, he said, bluntly 
 
 " If you put your boy on board the Fanny "Wil 
 liams, he'll have to bend or break, that's certain. 
 Take my advice; and give the matter a second 
 thought. He'll have a dog's life of it in a whaler. 
 It's my opinion that your lad hasn't stuff enough 
 in him for this experiment." 
 
 " I'll risk it," replied the Deacon. " He's got too 
 much stuff in him to stay at home, that's the trou 
 ble. The bend or break system is the only one in 
 which I have any faith." 
 
 " As you like, Deacon. I want another boy, and 
 yours will answer, I guess." 
 
 9
 
 194: STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 " When do you sail ?" was inquired. 
 
 " On Monday." 
 
 " Yery well. I'll bring the boy down to-morrow." 
 
 The thing was settled ; the Deacon did not feel 
 altogether comfortable in mind. Philip was young 
 for such an experiment, as the mother had urged. 
 And now very opportunely, a leaf in the book of 
 his memory was turned, on which was written the 
 story of a poor boy's wrongs and sufferings at sea. 
 Many years before, his heart had grown sick over 
 the record. He tried to look away from the page, 
 but could not. It seemed to hold his eye by a 
 kind of fascination. 
 
 Still he did not relent. Duty required him to 
 go steadily forward and execute his purpose. There 
 was no other hope for the boy. 
 
 " Philip !" It was thus that he announced his 
 determination. " I am going to send you to sea 
 with Captain Ellis. It's my last hope. Steadily 
 bent, as you are, on evil, I can no longer suffer you 
 to remain at home. The boy who begins with 
 robbing his neighbor's garden, is in great danger 
 of ending his career upon the gallows. To save 
 you, if possible, from a fate like this, I now send 
 you to sea."
 
 DUTY AND KINDNESS. 195 
 
 Very sternly, very harshly, almost angrily, was 
 this said. Not the smallest impression did it seem 
 to make upon the bo}> , who stood with his eyes cast 
 down, an image of sti bborn self-will and persistent 
 rebellion. 
 
 With still sharper denunciation did the father 
 speak, striving in this way to shock the feelings of 
 his child, and extort signs of penitence. But it 
 was the hammer and the anvil blow and rebound. 
 
 Yery different were the mother's efforts with the 
 child. Tearfully she pleaded with him earnestly 
 she besought him to ask his father's forgiveness for 
 the evil he had done. But Philip said 
 
 " No, mother. I would rather go to sea. Father 
 don't love me he don't care for me. He hates 
 me, I believe." 
 
 " Philip ! Philip ! Don't speak in that way of 
 your father. He does love you ; and it is only for 
 your good that he is going to send you to sea. Oh, 
 how could you do so wicked a thing ?" 
 
 Tears were in the mother's eyes. But the boy 
 had something of the father's stern spirit in him, 
 and showed no weakness. 
 
 " It isn't any worse than he did when he was a 
 boy," was his answer.
 
 196 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 "Philip!" 
 
 " Well, it isn't ; for I heard Mr. Wright tell Mr. 
 Freeman that father and he robbed orchards and 
 hens' nests ; and did worse than that, when they 
 were boys 1" 
 
 Poor Mrs. Browning was silent. Well did she 
 remember how wild a boy Jonas Browning was ; 
 and how, when she was a little girl, she had heard 
 all manner of evil laid to his charge. 
 
 Yery unexpectedly at least to Mr. Browning 
 the minister called in on the evening of that 
 troubled day. After some general conversation 
 with the family, he asked to have a few words 
 with the deacon alone. 
 
 " Is it true, Mr. Browning," he said, after they 
 had retired to an adjoining room, " that you are 
 going to send Philip to sea?" 
 
 " Too true," replied the father, soberly. " It is 
 my last hope. From the beginning that boy has 
 been a rebel against just authority ; and though I 
 have never relaxed discipline, through the weak 
 ness of natural feelings, yet resistance has grown 
 with his growth and strengthened with his strength, 
 until duty requires me to use a desperate remedy 
 for a desperate disease. It is a painful trial ; but
 
 DUTY AND KINDNESS. 197 
 
 the path of duty is the only path of safety. What 
 we see to be right, we must execute with unflinch 
 ing courage. I cannot look back and accuse myself 
 of any neglect of duty towards this boy, through 
 weakness of the flesh. From the beginning, 1 
 have made obedience the law of my household, 
 and suffered no deviation therefrom to go unpun 
 ished." 
 
 " Duty," said the minister, " has a twin sister." 
 
 He spoke in a changed voice, and with a manner 
 that arrested the attention of Deacon Browning, 
 who looked at him with a glance of inquiry. 
 
 " She is as lovely and gentle, as he is hard and 
 unyielding." 
 
 The deacon still looked curious. 
 
 " When the twin sister of duty is away from his 
 side, he loses more than half of his influence ; but, 
 in her beautiful presence, he gains a dignity and 
 power that make his precepts laws of life to all 
 who hear them. The stubborn heart melts, the 
 iron will is subdued ; the spirit of evil shrinks 
 away from the human soul." 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 " The name of that twin sister is Kindness." 
 
 The eyes of Deacon Browning fell away fron
 
 198 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 the minister's countenance, and drooped until they 
 rested upon the floor. Conviction flashed upon his 
 heart. He had always been stern in executing the 
 law but never kind ? 
 
 "Has that beautiful twin sister stood ever by 
 the side of Duty ? has love been in the law, Dea 
 con Browning ?" 
 
 Side by side with the minister stood Duty and 
 Kindness the firm, unshrinking brother, and the 
 mild, loving sister and so his word had power to 
 reach the deacon's heart, without giving offence to 
 pride. 
 
 " Kindness is weak, yielding, and indulgent, 
 and forgives when punishment is the only hope 
 of salvation," said Deacon Browning, a little re 
 covering himself from the first emotions of self- 
 condemnation. 
 
 " Only when she strays from the side of Duty," 
 replied the minister. u Duty and Kindness must 
 always act together." 
 
 Much more, and to the same purpose, was urged 
 by the minister, who made only a brief visit, and 
 then withdrew, that his admonitions might work 
 the effect desired. 
 
 When Deacon Browning came in from the front
 
 DUTY AND KINDNESS. 199 
 
 door of Ms house, after parting with the minister, 
 he drew a chair up to the table in the family 
 sitting-room, and, almost involuntarily, opened the 
 large family Bible. His feelings were much soft 
 ened towards his boy, who, with his head bowed 
 upon his breast, sat a little apart from his mother. 
 The attitude was not so much indicative of stub 
 born self-will, as suffering. Deacon Browning 
 thought he would read a chapter aloud, and so 
 drew the holy book closer, and bent his face down 
 over it. Mrs. Browning, observing the movement, 
 waited for him to begin. The deacon cleared his 
 throat twice. But his voice did not take up the 
 words that were in his eyes and in his heart. How 
 could they? 
 
 " As a father pitieth his children " 
 
 Had there been divine pity in the heart of Dea 
 con Browning for his rebellious and unhappy boy? 
 Nay had there not been wrath, instead ? 
 
 "As a father pitieth his children" 
 
 From a hundred places in the mind of Deacon 
 Browning there seemed to come an echo of these 
 words, and they had a meaning in them never per 
 ceived before. He closed the book, and remained 
 in deep thought for many minutes ; and not only
 
 200 BTEP8 TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 in deep thought, but in a stern conflict with him 
 self. Kindness was striving to gain her place by 
 the side of Duty; and cold, hard, imperious Duty, 
 who had so long ruled without a rival in the mind 
 of Deacon Browning, kept all the while averting 
 his countenance from that of his twin sister, who 
 had been so long an exiled wanderer. At last she 
 was successful. The stern brother yielded, and 
 clasped to his bosom the sister who sought his 
 love. 
 
 From that instant new thoughts, new views, new 
 purposes ruled in the mind of Deacon Browning. 
 The discipline of a whaler was too hard and cruel 
 for his boy, young in years, and by no means as 
 hardened in iniquity as he had permitted himself 
 to imagine. A cold shiver ran along his nerves at 
 the bare thought of doing what, a few hours before, 
 he had so resolutely intended. Kindness began 
 whispering in the ears of Duty, and crowding them 
 with a world of new suggestions. The heart of the 
 stern man was softened, and there flowed into it 
 something of a mother's yearning tenderness. 
 Rising up, at length, Deacon Browning said, in a 
 low voice, so new in its tones -to the ears of Philip, 
 that it made his heart leap
 
 DUTY AND EIXDNESS. 201 
 
 " My sou, I wish to see you alone." 
 
 The deacon went into the next room, and Philip 
 followed him. The deacon sat down, and Philip 
 stood before him. 
 
 " Philip, my son " Deacon Browning took the 
 boy's hand in one of his, and looked him full in the 
 face. The look was returned not a defiant look, 
 but one of yielding wonder. 
 
 " Philip, I am not going to send you to sea with 
 Captain Ellis. I intended doing so ; but, on reflec 
 tion, I think the life will be too hard for you." 
 
 Yery firmly, yet kindly, the deacon tried to 
 speak, but the sister of Duty was playing with his 
 heart-strings, and their tone of pity was echoed 
 from his voice, that faltered when he strove to give 
 it firmness. 
 
 The eyes of Philip remained fixed upon the 
 countenance of his father. 
 
 " My son " Deacon Browning thought he had 
 gained sufficient self-control to utter calmly certain 
 mild forms of admonition; but he was in error; 
 his voice was still less under his control, and so 
 fully betrayed the new-born pity and tenderness in 
 his heart, that Philip, melting into penitence, ex 
 claimed, as tears, gushed from his eyes 
 
 9*
 
 202 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 " Oh, father ! I've been very wicked, and very 
 sorry !" 
 
 Involuntarily, at this unexpected confession, the 
 arms of Deacon Browning were stretched out 
 towards his repentant boy, and Philip rushed, sob 
 bing, into them. 
 
 The boy was saved. "From that hour his father 
 had him under the most perfect subordination. 
 But the twin sister of Duty walked ever by his 
 side.
 
 IMPERISHABLE BEAUTY. 203 
 
 XX. 
 
 IMPEEISHABLE BEAUTY. 
 
 IT was a very plain face. My eye rested upon 
 it, for a moment or two, and then wandered away 
 to the countenance of another maiden, whose 
 beauty ravished the eyes of every beholder; and 
 as I gazed with a feeling of delight, upon its trans 
 cendent loveliness, an impulse of thankfulness 
 stirred in my heart thankfulness to the Creator of 
 beauty. The first maiden sat alone; around the 
 other stood a group of admirers. So marked a 
 contrast between the two, as well in features as in 
 the impression made thereby, excited, first, some 
 thing like pity for her whom nature had endowed 
 so poorly ; and I turned to look at her again with 
 a kinder feeling in my heart. 
 
 There she sat all alone. Yes, her face was very, 
 very plain ; but it did not strike me as repulsive. 
 The mouth, which had nothing of the ripe fullness
 
 204: STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 that gave such an enamoring grace to the other 
 maiden, was placid ; and though not encircled by 
 a perpetual wreath of smiles, calmly enthroned the 
 gentle spirit of content. Her eyes were small, the 
 lashes thin, and the arch above them faintly visible. 
 Arch ? I can scarcely give it that graceful desig 
 nation. I had not yet seen the expression of those 
 eyes. As I looked towards her, with that strange 
 consciousness of observation which all have re 
 marked, but which few can explain, she turned her 
 eyes from another part of the room, and looked 
 at me. They did not flash brilliantly, nor strike 
 me, at the first glance, as having in them anything 
 peculiar. They were the common eyes we meet at 
 every turn no soul in them. I give my first im 
 pression. My second was different. I had turned 
 my eyes away ; but something I had seen, caused 
 them almost involuntarily to wander back to the 
 maiden's face. A friend whom I highly regarded 
 a young man of more than common worth had 
 crossed the room, and was standing before her. 
 She had lifted her eyes to his face, and there waa 
 a new light in them not a dazzling, but a soft, 
 winning light, that purity and love made almost 
 beautiful.
 
 IMPERISHABLE BEAUTY. 205 
 
 They were conversing, and I watched, for some 
 time, the play of that unattractive countenance 
 unattractive no longer. 
 
 "Ah !" said I, "there is a beautiful soul within 
 that casket." 
 
 And as I spoke thus, in the silence of my own 
 thoughts, I looked towards the other maiden, who 
 was still surrounded by a crowd of admirers. 
 
 "Her beauty is wonderful!" I could not help 
 the utterance of this tribute to her charms. Yet 
 scarcely had I spoken the words, when she turned 
 to one of the group which had gathered about her, 
 a slight curl of unlovely scorn upon her lips, and 
 threw at him an arrowy word that wounded as it 
 struck. She saw that it hurt, and a gleam of pleas 
 ure went forth from her brilliant eyes. 
 
 A filmy veil came between me and that coun 
 tenance, which, a little while before, had shone 
 with a loveliness that was absolutely enchanting. 
 I turned again to the other maiden. My friend 
 still stood before her, and her eyes were lifted to 
 his face. She was uttering some sentiments what, 
 I did not hear but they must have been good and 
 beautiful in conception, to have filled every linea 
 ment with such a winning grace.
 
 206 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 "Ah !" said I, the real truth dawning upon my 
 mind, "here is the inner, imperishable beauty. 
 The beauty, which, instead of losing its spring 
 time freshness, forever advances towards eternal 
 youth." 
 
 A few weeks later, and my friend communicated 
 to me the intelligence, that his heart had been won 
 by the charms of this unattractive maiden. Once 
 he had been a worshipper at the other shrine the 
 shrine of beauty; and I knew that, only a few 
 months before, hand and heart were ready to be 
 offered. Accepted they would have been, for he 
 had personal beauty, attractive manners, wealth, 
 and above all, a manly, honorable spirit. 
 
 For all I had seen, I was scarcely prepared for 
 this. The maiden might be good I did not ques 
 tion that but she was so homely ; and this home 
 liness would be only the more apparent in contrast 
 with his elegant exterior. It was almost on my lip 
 to remonstrate to suggest this thought to his mind. 
 But I prudently forbore. 
 
 " Tou know her well, I hope." I could not help 
 the utterance of this caution. 
 
 " She is not thought to be beautiful," he replied, 
 seeming to perceive my thoughts, " indeed, as to
 
 IMPERISHABLE BEAUTY. 207 
 
 features, slie is plain ; yet, in person, she is tall, 
 graceful, dignified, and with a carriage that a queen 
 might envy." 
 
 This was true to the letter. I had not thought 
 of it before. Nature had given at least this com 
 pensation. 
 
 "But the higher beauty," he added, "is of the 
 soul. All else is soon diminished. Scarcely has the 
 blushing girl stepped forward through the opening 
 door of womanhood, ere we see the lustre of her 
 blossoming cheek beginning to tarnish in the social 
 atmosphere, or to pale from disease. But the soul's 
 beauty dims not, wanes not, dies not. It is as im 
 perishable as the soul itself. Our bodies die, but 
 
 the soul is immortal." 
 
 
 
 "If she possesses this beauty?" 
 
 "I know that she possesses it," he answered, 
 warmly. " I have seen it looking forth from hei 
 eyes, wreathing about her lips, and giving to every 
 lineament a heavenly charm. It is musical in 
 every tone of her voice." 
 
 " Goodness alone is beautiful," I said. 
 
 " And she is good," he replied. " I never met 
 one who so rarely spoke of herself, or who seemed 
 to take so loving an interest in humanity."
 
 208 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 "That is God-like." 
 
 " Is not God the very source of all beauty ? To 
 be God-like, then, is to be beautiful. Ah !" he 
 added, " I have found, indeed, a treasure ! Morn 
 ing and evening I thank the good Giver, that he 
 opened my eyes to see deeper than the unalluring 
 surface. I was dazzled, once, by a glittering ex 
 terior ; but have a clearer vision now." 
 
 " "Win her and wear her, then," I replied, " and 
 may she be to you all your fancy pictures." 
 
 " She is won," he answered, " and I shall wear 
 her proudly in the eyes of all men." 
 
 There was a world of surprise when it became 
 known that my handsome friend was about leading 
 his chosen bride to the marriage altar. 
 
 9 
 
 " How could he throw himself away upon such 
 an ugly creature ?" said one, coarsely. 
 
 " He might have taken his choice from the love 
 liest," remarked another. 
 
 " He will tire of that face in a month. All the 
 gold of Ophir would not bribe me to sit opposite to 
 it for a year." 
 
 And so the changes rung. 
 
 But my friend knew what he was doing. I was 
 present at the wedding.
 
 IMPERISHABLE BEAL'TY. 201) 
 
 "If she were not so homely!" I heard a ladj 
 remark, as she stood beside her handsome young 
 husband. " What can he see in her to love ?" 
 
 I turned and looked at the speaker. Nature had 
 been kind in giving her an attractive face ; but the 
 slight curl of contempt that was on her lip marred 
 everything. I glanced back to the young bride's 
 countenance; her pure soul was shining through 
 it, like light through a veil. To me, she seemed at 
 that moment more beautiful than the other ; and 
 far more worthy to be loved. 
 
 The brilliantly beautiful maiden of whom 1 have 
 spoken, gave her hand in marriage about the same 
 time. Her husband was a young man of good 
 character, kind feelings, and with sufficient income 
 to enable them to live in a style of imposing ele 
 gance. A series of gay parties was the social wel 
 come given to the lovely bride. But such honor 
 did not attend the nuptials of her plainer sister. 
 
 A few years later, and the spiritual qualities of 
 each were more apparent in their faces. I remem 
 ber meeting both, in company, ten years after their 
 marriage. I was standing at one end of the room, 
 when an over-dressed woman, with a showy face, 
 came in, accompanied by a gentleman whom I
 
 210 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 knew, not as an acquaintance, but as a man of 
 business and the husband of the beauty. I should 
 scarcely have recognized the latter, but for him. 
 What a change was there ! At a distance, the face 
 struck you as still beautiful, but, on a closer view, 
 the illusion vanished. The mouth had grown 
 sensual, peevish, and ill-natured ; the eyes were 
 bright, but the brightness repelled rather than 
 attracted. After awhile, wondering at the change, 
 I drew near and entered into conversation with 
 her. The music of her voice I remembered. There 
 was no music in it now ; at least none for my ears. 
 A certain abruptness in her manners, born of pride, 
 or superciliousness, was to me particularly offen 
 sive. I tried her on various subjects, in order to 
 bring out some better aspects of her character. 
 The Swedish Nightingale had just been here, and 
 had sung to my heart as no living man or woman 
 had ever sung I spoke of her. " Too artificial," 
 was the reply, with an air of critical vanity, that 
 gave to my feelings a ripple of indignation. I 
 referred to a new poem, admirable for its purity of 
 style; she coldly remarked with depreciation on 
 some of its special beauties, merely repeating, as I 
 knew, a certain captious reviewer. I was in doubt
 
 IMPERISHABLE BEAUTY. 211 
 
 whether she had read even a page of the book. 
 Then I spoke of a lady present. She tossed her 
 head, and arched her lip, saying, " She's too fond 
 of gentlemen's attentions." 
 
 I varied still my efforts, but to no good purpose. 
 The more I conversed with her, the less beautiful 
 became her face, for the unloveliness of her true 
 character was perpetually gleaming through and 
 spoiling the already sadly-marred features. I left 
 her side, on the first good opportunity, glad to get 
 away. Ten years ago, in all companies, she was 
 the cynosure of every eye. The praise of her 
 beauty was on every lip. But so changed was she 
 now, that none bent to do her reverence. I noticed 
 her sitting alone, with a discontented look, long 
 after I had left my place by her side. Her hus 
 band, for all the attentions he paid her during 
 the evening, might have been unconscious of her 
 presence. 
 
 But there was another lady in the room, who 
 was, all the while, the centre of an admiring circle. 
 None, perhaps, considered her face beautiful ; yet 
 to every one who looked upon it, came a percep 
 tion of beauty that associated itself with her indi 
 viduality. In repose, her features were plain, yet
 
 212 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 not repulsive in the slightest particular. But, 
 when thought and feeling flowed into them, every 
 eye was charmed. There was a nameless grace in 
 her manner that gave additional power to the at 
 tractions of her countenance. 
 
 I was half in doubt, at first, of her identity, as I 
 gazed upon her from a distant part of the room ; 
 she looked, in my eyes, so really beautiful. But 
 the presence of my old friend in the group, my old 
 friend who had been wise enough to prefer beauty 
 of soul to beauty of face, removed all questions, 
 and passing over, I added another to the circle 
 which had gathered around her. 
 
 There was nothing obtrusive in her conversation ; 
 nothing of conscious pride; but a calm, and, at 
 times, earnest utterance of true sentiments. 'Not 
 once during the evening did I hear a word from 
 her lips that jarred the better feelings. 
 
 "The good are beautiful!" Many times did 
 this sentiment find spontaneous utterance in my 
 thoughts as I looked upon her ; and then turned 
 my eyes to the discontented face of another, who, 
 a few years before, carried oif, in every company, 
 the palm of loveliness. 
 
 Yes, here was the imperishable beauty ! Maiden 1
 
 IMPERISHABLE BEAUTY. 213 
 
 would you find this beauty ? !N"o matter if your 
 features were not cast in classic mould, this higher, 
 truer beauty may be yours if you will seek for it in 
 the denial of selfishness, and the repression of dis 
 content. " The good are beautiful." Lay that up 
 in your thoughts. Treasure it as the most sublime 
 wisdom. 
 
 Gather into the store-house of your minds sen 
 timents of regard for others ; and let your hands 
 engage in gentle charities. To do good and to 
 communicate forget not. If tempted to murmur, 
 think of your many blessings ; if to repine, of the 
 thousands who are sick and in suffering. Be hum 
 ble, gentle, forgiving, and above all useful. 
 These are the graces that shine through the outer 
 coverings of the soul, and reveal themselves in 
 light and loveliness to all eyes. 
 
 The good never grow homely as they grow old. 
 The outer eye may become dim, and the cheek 
 loose its freshness, but in the place of earthly 
 charms will come a spiritual beauty, unfading as 
 eternity.
 
 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 XXI. 
 NEIGHBOK GKAY. 
 
 " HAVE you met our new neighbor Gray, friend 
 Tompkins ?" inquired one farmer of another. They , 
 were at Peter Craig's blacksmith shop. 
 
 " No ; and what's more, I don't want to meet 
 him," was abruptly answered. 
 
 " Don't want to meet him ?" 
 
 " No ! I've said just what I mean," replied Tomp 
 kins, ill-naturedly. " I don't want to meet him, nor 
 have anything to do with him." 
 
 "You'll change your mind, I think," said the 
 blacksmith. 
 
 "Will I?" A sneer curled the lip of farmer 
 Tompkins. 
 
 " Yes, and that before Mr. Gray is two months 
 in Splinterville," replied Peter Craig. "But, 
 pray, tell us what ypu have against our new neigh 
 bor.
 
 NEIGHBOR GRAY. 215 
 
 " Oh, nothing very particular, only I don't like 
 him." 
 
 " There is one thing to be said in his favor," re 
 marked the blacksmith " he keeps good stock." 
 
 "Humph ! ]STo better than is to be found in the 
 neighborhood," said Tompkins. "No better, in 
 fact, than I have." 
 
 " I'm not so sure of that," returned Peter Craig. 
 " I put shoes on his carriage horses yesterday, and, 
 if I'm any judge, their match is not within ten 
 miles of these parts. No, no, friend Tompkins, 
 you hav'n't the horseflesh on your sixty acres that 
 will compare with neighbor Gray's. 
 
 " Bah ! neighbor Gray's ! Nobody's got any 
 thing, from a patent pitchfork up to a threshing 
 machine, that will compare with neighbor Gray's ! 
 It makes me downright angry to hear people talk 
 after this fashion. Who's Mr. Gray, I'd like to 
 know?" 
 
 " He's a gentleman," said the blacksmith, a little 
 warmly. 
 
 "Gentleman!" Tompkins spoke with a bitter 
 sneer, " I hate gentlemen !" 
 
 "The gentleman is the only true man," remarked 
 Peter Craig.
 
 216 8TEP8 TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 " Of course : kid gloves, calf-skin, broadcloth, and 
 beaver, are everything, and the individual nothing." 
 
 " Not so fast, friend Tompkins ; not so fast. It is 
 the heart that makes the gentleman." 
 
 " If that is the case, I don't think there's much 
 chance for your new neighbor. But, gentleman, or 
 no gentleman, I detest this Gray from the bottom 
 of my heart, and wish he were a thousand miles 
 away from Splinterville !" 
 
 As Tompkins closed this sentence, in a pretty 
 loud tone of voice, his ear caught the sound of a 
 footstep, and turning quickly, he saw Mr. Gray 
 approaching through the blacksmith's shop, having 
 entered by the opposite door from the one near 
 which the little group of men were standing. He 
 was near enough to have heard the closing sen 
 tence, and, from the expression of his countenance, 
 it was pretty evident that its meaning was under 
 stood. 
 
 The moment Tompkins saw him, his face crim 
 soned, and, turning off abruptly, he strode away. 
 As he did so, he thought he heard the voice of Mr. 
 Gray calling after him. But he had not the man 
 liness to stop and meet, face to face, the individual 
 whose name he had used so freely.
 
 STEIGHBOK GRAY. 217 
 
 .An ill-natured, jealous-minded, unhappy kind of 
 a man was this Tompkins. You will find his coun 
 terpart in almost every neighborhood. Mr. Gray, 
 towards whom he cherished such unkind feelings, 
 had bought, some months before, the farm that 
 immediately adjoined his, and, a few weeks pre 
 viously, taken formal possession. Now, Tompkins 
 wanted this farm, and had been for some time 
 endeavoring to strike a bargain with its previous 
 owner, when Mr. Gray, seeing the property adver 
 tised for sale, complied with the terms, and became 
 the purchaser. Tompkins wished to exchange his 
 farm for the other, and give notes for the differ 
 ence in price ; and although the owner had two or 
 three times declined his offer, he was still in hope 
 of making the arrangement, when Mr. Gray dashed 
 all his hopes to the ground. 
 
 From that moment he hated Mr. Gray in his 
 heart, and wished him all manner of evil. But for 
 all this, Tompkins didn't feel very comfortable in 
 mind about the harsh sentence which he was very 
 certain Mr. Gray had heard. Talk as freely as he 
 would behind his neighbor's back, he was not quite 
 prepared to denounce him to his face ; and for this 
 reason, if for none other, he could show no cause 
 
 10
 
 218 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 for his animosity. The farm was in market, and 
 his new neighbor had as good a right to purchase 
 as any one else. It was not at all probable that 
 Mr. Gray knew anything about his previous nego 
 tiations ; and even if he had, that was no reason 
 why he should not purchase if an offer of the 
 farm were made to him. 
 
 Compelled now to look at the affair as if looking 
 upon it with other people's eyes, Tompkins was not 
 able to justify himself in the unkind attitude he 
 had taken. Imagination brought him face to face 
 with the incensed Mr. Gray, who said to him, in a 
 stern, demanding voice : 
 
 " What is the meaning of this language ? What 
 have I done, that you detest me, and wish me a 
 thousand miles away from Splinterville ?" 
 
 In vain did farmer Tompkins seek to frame some 
 reply in his thoughts that would have the appear 
 ance of justification. It would not answer to refuse 
 giving any reason for his conduct ; for that would 
 place him in the light of a mere traducer of his 
 neighbor without cause. Nor would it do to state 
 the true reason ; for that was one which, however 
 valid in his own eyes, could hardly appear so in 
 the eyes of anybody else.
 
 NEIGHBOR GRAY. 219 
 
 Farmer Tompkins was in something of a quan 
 dary. He had brought himself into rather a hu 
 miliating relation to this new neighbor ; and the 
 more he thought about it, the less clearly did he 
 see himself honorably out of his trouble. 
 
 But Tompkins was not the man to " humble him 
 self," to use his own words, to any one, by acknow 
 ledging that he had done wrong, no matter how 
 sharp were his own convictions on the subject. 
 And of all men in the world, Mr. Gray was the last 
 to whom he would make humiliating acknowledg 
 ments. He hated and despised him the more now 
 that he felt himself something in his power. And 
 he determined to brave it out. If neighbor Gray 
 called upon him for explanations, he would insult 
 him to his face! 
 
 On the next morning Tompkins had occasion to 
 visit the blacksmith's shop again. 
 
 " What did that Gray have to say about me 
 yesterday ?" he asked of Peter Craig, in his most 
 abrupt, ill-natured manner. 
 
 "He didn't mention your name," replied the 
 blacksmith. 
 
 The farmer looked surprised. 
 
 " He must have heard me."
 
 220 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 " I rather think he did," said the black 
 smith. 
 
 " And didn't say anything at all V 
 
 " Not about you." 
 
 Farmer Tompkins was puzzled and disappointed 
 Much as he hated, and affected to despise Mr. 
 Gray, he felt nervous about the effect produced 
 upon him by the harsh words he had spoken ; and 
 he had hoped to get some clue thereto from the 
 blacksmith. 
 
 A few hours later in the day, as he was riding 
 away from home, he saw his new neighbor ap 
 proaching along the road not far distant. Obeying 
 the first impulse of his mind, he turned his horse's 
 head, and struck off into a narrow lane, that took 
 him nearly a mile out of his way. In consequence, 
 he was too late for an appointment at which some 
 important business was to be done, and lost an ex-, 
 pected advantage. 
 
 " I wish this Gray had been in the Dead Sea 
 before he thought of coming to Splinterville," 
 was his angry ejaculation, when, on arriving at the 
 appointed place, he found the business closed, and 
 all the benefit he had hoped to gain forever beyond 
 his reach.
 
 NEIGHBOR GRAY. 221. 
 
 Just as farmer Tompkins, on returning from his 
 fruitless ride, came in sight of home, he saw Mr. 
 Gray leaving the house. He rubbed his eyes, and 
 looked again. Yes ; it was even so. Mr. Gray 
 was passing through the gate; and now was 
 moving down the road in the direction of his own 
 home. Tompkins slackened the speed of his horse 
 so that he might not come too fully in view until 
 Mr. Gray reached a bend in the road, around 
 which he passed out of sight. 
 
 " What did that fellow want ?" he asked, sharply, 
 of his wife, on reaching home. 
 
 " Of whom are you speaking ?" she inquired. 
 
 " Why of Gray ; confound him !" 
 
 " He merely asked for you," replied the wife. 
 
 " Did he say that he would call again ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Humph !" Farmer Tompkins was worried. It 
 was plain that Mr. Gray was not a man to be as 
 sailed and traduced without calling his traducer to 
 an account. So far as vituperation was concerned, 
 farmer Tompkins found that an easy matter it 
 came as " natural as eating." But the thought of 
 being called to an account of being asked for 
 explanations of being required to give reasons
 
 222 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 for the strong language he had seen proper to use, 
 was very far from being agreeable. 
 
 All that afternoon, farmer Tompkins was in 
 hourly dread of another call from his new neighbor 
 Gray. Every sound of approaching feet, or sudden 
 call, or noise of the shutting gate, caused him to 
 start, or look up from his work. He was provoked 
 with himself for all this ; but, for his life, could not 
 help it. A little while before sundown he came 
 over from the barn to get something from the 
 house. As he came in at the back door, a young 
 woman, wearing a blue sun-bonnet, went out at the 
 front door. 
 
 " Who is that ?" he asked of his wife. 
 
 " Neighbor Gray's girl," was replied. 
 
 The farmer's heart gave a quicker bound. 
 
 "What did she want?" 
 
 He knit his brows as he awaited the answer. 
 
 " Mrs. Gray sent over a tumbler of calf's foot 
 jelly for Maggy." 
 
 Now, Maggy was a dear little two years' old pet, 
 with soft blue eyes, and light brown hair that fell 
 in wavy circles about her neck, and a heart as full 
 of love, as that of her father was of ill-will to al 
 most every one but herself. To him she was sun
 
 NEIGHBOR GRAY. 223 
 
 light and joy. The love that gushed forth for her, 
 seemed all the stronger because it had free course 
 in no other direction. But Maggy was sick. A fall 
 fever had seized upon her delicate frame, and 
 wasted her almost to a shadow, and now, although 
 the destroyer had departed from their dwelling, 
 the child was as weak as in the days of earliest 
 infancy. 
 
 " Mrs. Gray sent over a tumbler of calf's foot 
 jelly for Maggy." 
 
 What an unexpected answer ! Farmer Tompkins 
 was altogether unprepared for it. 
 
 " How did she know that Maggy was sick ?" 
 
 His voice was less imperative. 
 
 " Mr. Gray asked about her when he was here 
 this morning." 
 
 "Who? What?" 
 
 Farmer Tompkins was again taken by surprise. 
 
 " Mr. Gray asked kindly about her ; and when I 
 told him that she was better, looked very much 
 pleased." 
 
 The farmer turned his face partly away, so that 
 his wife should not see its expression. 
 
 "How does Maggy seem this afternoon?" he 
 asked, a few moments afterwards.
 
 224: STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 "Better," said the wife. 
 
 " I must look at her for a moment ; dear little 
 pet !" And Tompkins went into the bedroom where 
 she lay. An older sister stood by her side, holding 
 the calf's foot jelly, and feeding her with it. 
 
 " How is my little Maggy ?" said the father, a& 
 he bent over and kissed her. 
 
 "I'm better," she answered, smiling then 
 added, in a pleased way, 
 
 " Don't you think Mrs. Gray was very good tc 
 send me this nice calf's foot jelly ?" 
 
 "Yes, dear." 
 
 How could he help answering yes ? 
 
 When farmer Tompkins returned to the barn, he 
 felt very strangely. There was a pressure on his 
 feelings, for which he could not clearly account , 
 and no wonder for the farmer was not much 
 given to the observation of his own mental pro 
 cesses. That little act of kindness towards Maggy, 
 BO altogether unexpected, had thrown his mind into 
 sudden confusion. He had felt a dislike for Mrs. 
 Gray, simply because he hated her husband but 
 how could he continue to cherish this feeling for 
 one who had shown kindness towards his little 
 Maggy? It was next to impossible. And Mr.
 
 NEIGHBOR GRAY. 
 
 225 
 
 Gray had asked after Maggy ! And further still 
 it was natural to conclude, that the kind act of his 
 wife had some sort of dependence upon his direc 
 tion of her thoughts towards the sick child. 
 
 " I wish I hadn't said anything against him at 
 Peter Craig's." Now that thought marked the 
 beginning of a better state of mind in farmer 
 Tompkins. " I don't like him ; and will never for 
 give him as long as I live. But there is no occasion 
 to make an enemy even of a dog. And, of course, 
 he's my sworn enemy from this day forth. I won 
 der what brought him over here. No, I don't 
 wonder either ! "Well, let him do his worst ; he'll 
 find no backing down in Ephraim Tompkins." 
 
 On the next morning, Tompkins went over to the 
 blacksmith's shop to see if Peter Craig had finished 
 mending a plough which he had left there some 
 days before. He had said nothing about being in 
 a hurry ; and did not really want the plough for a 
 week. But he thought he would step over and see 
 how the work was progressing. As he entered the 
 shop, he saw the plough lying near the forge. But 
 the blacksmith was hammering away upon a wagon 
 tire. Now, although Tompkins didn't want the 
 plough for some days, he felt displeased at seeing his 
 
 10*
 
 226 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 work put aside for the work of somebody else, and 
 said, a little tartly 
 
 " I expected to see that plough finished by this 
 time." 
 
 " And so it would have been, friend Tompkins ; 
 but our new neighbor, Mr. Gray, had the misfortune 
 to break a wagon-tire yesterday afternoon, just in the 
 midst of some hauling that must be finished by to 
 morrow. So I let your plough lie, as I knew you 
 were not in a hurry, and was sure you would be 
 willing to oblige Mr. Gray. I will have it all 
 ready for you in the morning." 
 
 " To-morrow morning won't do !" said Tompkins, 
 angrily. " I want my plough to-day !" 
 
 " I'm sorry," said the blacksmith, in a troubled 
 manner. " I didn't think it would make any dif 
 ference, or I wouldn't have put aside your work for 
 Mr. Gray or anybody else." 
 
 " Oh yes you would !" retorted Tompkins, in a 
 spiteful tone. " Mr. Gray is everything in Splin- 
 terville now and I'm nobody !" 
 
 "Don't say that, friend Tompkins," said the 
 blacksmith ; " I would do your work as quickly as 
 I would Mr. Gray's. If the plough had belonged 
 to him, and you had come with the broken wagon-
 
 NEIGHBOR GRAY, 227 
 
 tire, I would have laid aside the plough to mend 
 the tire." 
 
 But farmer Tompkins was not disposed to listen 
 to reason. This act of letting his work lie over for 
 a day, in order to do that of his neighbor, against 
 whom he had so deep a grudge, made him almost 
 blind with passion, and he was talking in a loud, 
 angry voice, when neighbor Gray's form darkened 
 the door of the blacksmith shop. The new neigh 
 bor had called over to see how the mending of the 
 wagon-tire progressed. Just as he entered, Tomp 
 kins used his name in connection with some pretty 
 harsh language. Not seeming to notice this, Mr. 
 Gray came forward, and offering his hand to Mr. 
 Tompkins, said very kindly 
 
 "How is your little daughter this morning? I 
 hope she is very much better ?" 
 
 " She is better, I thank you," replied Tompkins, 
 almost stammering out the words, at the same time 
 that he allowed Mr. Gray to take his hand and shake 
 it, pretty much as he would have shaken a stick. 
 
 " I hope," continued Mr. Gray, " that our friend 
 the blacksmith hasn't done anything wrong in lay 
 ing aside your work to do mine. If so, I pray you 
 to let all the blame fall upon my shoulders. We
 
 228 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 were so unfortunate as to break our wagon-tire, 
 and all our work was at a stand-still until it was 
 mended. It was one of tliose emergencies in 
 which all neighbors are ready to accommodate 
 each other, even at the cost of a little inconve 
 nience." 
 
 Now, farmer Tompkins hardly expected a greet 
 ing like this, and was considerably thrown aback, 
 as the sailors say. The kind inquiry after Maggy 
 the remembrance of Mrs. Gray's thoughtful at 
 tention to the sick child and, more particularly, 
 the open, frank, friendly manner in which Mr. 
 Gray spoke, all had the effect to disarm him. He 
 wanted to repel the new neighbor to speak out 
 " his mind " to him to let him see something of 
 the antagonism that was in his heart. But the cor 
 dial good nature, and kind, gentlemanly bearing of 
 Mr. Gray were too much for him, and thawed the 
 ice of his feelings faster than a determined ill nature 
 could freeze the surface. 
 
 " I called over yesterday afternoon," continued 
 Mr. Gray, " to mention what I had done ; and ask 
 if it would put you to any inconvenience. And I 
 intended to speak with you about a matter which I 
 will mention now. It is this :"
 
 NEIGHBOR GEAT. 229 
 
 And he drew farmer Tompkins aside, in order 
 that he might talk with him alone. 
 
 " I find," he continued, " in having the searches 
 made for the purpose of fixing a true title to the 
 farm just bought, and which adjoins yours, that 
 there has been a clear mistake in running the 
 boundary between your farm and mine a mistake 
 that includes at least five acres of that fine meadow 
 land to the west of your barn." 
 
 " I don't believe a word of it !" exclaimed farmer 
 Tompkins, firing up, and looking the picture of 
 angry indignation. " My title-deeds call for sixty 
 acres, and sixty acres I mean to hold, if I law for it 
 until doomsday !" 
 
 "Gently, gently, neighbor Tompkins," replied 
 Mr. Gray. " There need be no trouble about the 
 matter. We don't need any law to settle a busi 
 ness like this. A compromise, where both partita 
 desire to do right, is the easiest thing in the world. 
 You will find me very reasonable." 
 
 "It's more than you will find me, then, Mr. 
 Gray, if you attempt to get five acres of my mea 
 dow land. I can tell you that, in the beginning." 
 
 "I don't want a foot of your land," said Mr 
 Gray.
 
 230 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 " What then do you want ?" demanded the exas 
 perated farmer. 
 
 " Simply to do right," was the calm reply. " I 
 find that I am considerably over on your line, and 
 that the amount of land I inclose which really be 
 longs to you, is about five acres." 
 
 Farmer Tompkins started, looked confused, and 
 flushed to a deeper crimson. 
 
 " I requested," continued Mr. Gray, " my con 
 veyancer to go carefully over the matter again, 
 and make his report, which was done yesterday. 
 He says there is no doubt about the matter. I am 
 over the line considerably. Now, what I wish to 
 say is this : I will buy these five acres at a hundred 
 dollars an acre, if you are inclined to sell ; if not, 
 I will have my fence removed to the true line, 
 which a surveyor can determine." 
 
 We need hardly say that Tompkins was com 
 pletely disarmed. If a thunderbolt had fallen at 
 his feet he could not have been more surprised. 
 A moment or two he stood in bewilderment of 
 mind ; then reaching out his hand to Mr. Gray, he 
 said: 
 
 " I am rebuked. Have it your own way. Let 
 the fence stand where it is, and keep the land if
 
 NEIGHBOR GBAY. 231 
 
 you choose I shall still be as well off as I thought 
 myself an hour ago." 
 
 " Right is right, friend Tompkins," replied Mr. 
 Gray. "So if you will walk over to my house, 
 we will settle this business at once. I prefer keep 
 ing the land and paying for it the price men 
 tioned." 
 
 " It is yours at any price," answered Mr. Tomp 
 kins. After a few moments of silence, he added : 
 "I was your enemy, Mr. Gray your enemy, I now 
 see, without a cause. You have disarmed me in 
 the first encounter. Let us now be friends." 
 
 And he reached forth his hand, which was 
 warmly grasped by the new neighbor. 
 
 After that, farmer Tompkins was a different 
 man. Mr. Gray proved a true friend, for, both 
 by example and precept, he taught him a better 
 and happier way in the world, and he walked there 
 in with a more cheerful spirit than of old
 
 232 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 XXII. 
 SPIRITUAL PKIDE. 
 
 RESPECTABLE, orderly, well -to -do -in -the -world 
 people, wlio have comfortable and, in most cases, 
 eligible pews in church ; who are on familiar 
 terms with the minister, and whose opinions, on 
 matters ecclesiastical as well as secular, have 
 weight, are very much inclined to lapse into the 
 impression that they are elevated above the masses 
 of the people in spiritual as well as in external 
 things; that they are better than the poor, the 
 humble, and depressed. You will see them passing 
 up the aisles of our churches, and taking the up 
 permost seats, with the air of persons whose right 
 to these places are as natural as their right to the 
 elegant homes their money has purchased. And 
 no one questions their right to these seats ; for they 
 have a property in them, by honorable purchase, 
 the same as they have in their stores or
 
 SPIRITUAL PKIDE. 233 
 
 We are looking below all this, to the spirit that 
 animates them to the approving self-consciousness 
 which gives quality to the soul. 
 
 These individuals are very much in danger of 
 falling into a low kind of spiritual pride. There is 
 a spiritual pride which has its origin in superior 
 intellectual qualities. Because a man is able to 
 talk on theological subjects with some acuteness, 
 and to rise quite above the ordinary range of 
 thought in matters of doctrine, he may indulge the 
 conceit that he is spiritually in advance of his 
 brethren, when he may not have overcome a single 
 evil of his selfish nature. The danger here is very 
 great. But there is another and meaner kind of 
 spiritual pride, which builds its foundation walls 
 on the sandy basis of wealth and mere social rank. 
 The churches are full of this. It is the moth and 
 rust that are eating daily at their inner life. There 
 is a certain fashion in religion, or rather in church- 
 going, which claims of its votaries as nice an ob 
 servance as is demanded by fashion in dress ; and it 
 is far more hurtful than the latter, because it in 
 volves a degradation of spiritual things, and makes 
 of the votary, so far as religion is concerned, a 
 mere pretender.
 
 234: STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 Mrs. Hartman, the wife of a substantial mer 
 chant, was very much inclined to indulge in this 
 latter species of spiritual pride, if we may dig 
 nify it with the name of " spiritual." She was a 
 pious woman in externals. Her place was never 
 vacant in church, and her demeanor while there 
 was always devout. She never absented herself 
 from the communion table, nor neglected any of 
 the public charities sanctioned by Christian usage. 
 The minister's wife was her very dear friend, and 
 the minister himself a regular visitor at the house. 
 In a general way, Mrs. Hartman talked well on 
 religious themes, which she always made promi 
 nent when in the minister's company. 
 
 Yery naturally did Mrs. Hartman come to think 
 well of herself, in a Christian point of view ; and 
 if on some occasions her thoughts could have been 
 seen, they would not have differed very much from 
 those of the Pharisee, so strongly placed by our 
 Lord in contrast with the humble Publican. It is 
 very certain that her estimate of the spiritual con 
 dition of the poor people who attended worship inr' 
 the same church, on each recurring Sabbath, was on 
 a level with her estimate of their natural condition. 
 The external, in her thought, corresponded with the
 
 SPIRITUAL PKIDE. , 235 
 
 internal ; and so she lield herself in stately attitudes 
 when she met any of them that she happened to 
 know, or spoke with forced smiles, condescend 
 ingly. Some were pleased with her notice ; some 
 felt her manner as a spur to pride, and experienced 
 annoyance ; while a few met her with quiet, self- 
 possessed exteriors, that a little chafed her in 
 return. Among the latter was a Mrs. Royal, a 
 widow in poor health and poor circumstances. 
 She had two little girls, aged seven and nine years, 
 delicate, sensitive creatures, that were loved by 
 her with a tenderness that grew deeper as health 
 and strength declined. By her needle she earned 
 the bread that nourished them. At one time she 
 had sewing from the family of Mrs. Hartman ; but 
 she did not seem grateful enough for the privilege 
 of making up the under-garments of Mrs. Hartman's 
 children ; and once was so thoughtless as to say, in 
 a moment of earnest expression on some religious 
 theme, " Sister Hartman." 
 
 Sister Hartman ! Humph ! she is getting past 
 herself." Thus the lady soliloquized, after the poor 
 sewing woman had withdrawn. " I shall have her 
 calling, and leaving her card, as the next move. 
 She doesn't know her place, and never did. She's
 
 236 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 quite too familiar. Her way of speaking to me e> i 
 Sundays, if we happen to meet in the vestibule, hao 
 always annoyed me. I shall send her no more work." 
 
 And Mrs. Hartman kept her word. Mrs. Royal 
 never called, however, to leave her card, as the 
 other had affected to apprehend. But if she hap 
 pened to meet her anywhere, it was with the old 
 quiet, self-possessed exterior, that Mrs. Hartman's 
 pride of position felt almost as an insult. 
 
 It so happened, in the progress of benevolent 
 movements connected with the church, that the 
 formation of a home for orphan children was pro 
 jected. The first suggestion came from Mrs. Hart 
 man ; and, in consequence, she not only felt a kind 
 of property in the scheme, but a certain right to 
 exercise a controlling influence. 
 
 As the plan proposed to include only the orphan 
 children of parents who had been members of the 
 church, Mrs. Royal felt deeply interested in the 
 subject; and as the meetings called for the consi 
 deration and adoption of measures for carrying 
 into effect what had been proposed, were open to 
 all the members, she attended them, and made her 
 self clearly conversant with every plan and propo 
 sition in their minutest details.
 
 SPIRITUAL PRIDE. 237 
 
 Things had progressed as far as the appointment 
 of lady managers, who had chosen Mrs. Hartman 
 as President. At the minister's suggestion he 
 understood Mrs. Royal a great deal better than did 
 Mrs. Hartman the poor widow was elected to 
 serve as a manager in the Board, much to the an 
 noyance of the wealthy member, who really felt the 
 appointment as a kind of degradation to herself 
 and others ; and, for a time, actually debated the 
 question whether she should not resign, and let 
 those who would work in that kind of humiliating 
 association. 
 
 At the first meeting of the Board of Managers, 
 Mrs. Hartman submitted, through a lady present, 
 who went with her in all things, a plan for organ 
 izing the Home. According to this plan, a house 
 was to be rented and placed in charge of a Matron, 
 into whose care the children of the institution were 
 to be given. A Yisiting Committee were to have 
 the supervision and direction of affairs at the Home. 
 Then followed a detailed plan of discipline and 
 management, in which the children were considered 
 with about as much human regard and motherly 
 tenderness, as if they had been mere animals, with 
 only animal needs. This plan looked well enough
 
 238 STEPS TOWAKDS HEAVEN, 
 
 on the surface, but the eyes of Mrs. Royal, made 
 clear by love for her own precious little ones, pene 
 trated far below the surface. In imagination, she 
 saw them subjected to all the rigid requirements 
 set forth in the plan of organization, and her heart 
 sickened at the picture. She waited anxiously to 
 hear some modifications suggested ; but only words 
 of approval were uttered. 
 
 " Perhaps," she said, at length, speaking for the 
 first time 
 
 Mrs. Hartman looked really surprised, and even 
 frowned. It was presumption enough for Mrs. 
 Royal to take her place in the Board ; but to ven 
 ture her opinions there, was going a little beyond 
 decorum. 
 
 " Perhaps," suggested Mrs. Royal, " it may help 
 us in this matter, if we think of our own children, 
 and then seek to surround the motherless little ones, 
 our good will designs protecting from evil and Svif- 
 ferings, with some of the comforts and pleasures 
 that we could ask for them, if in like manner de 
 prived of our love and care." 
 
 " Don't concern yourself on that head," said the * 
 lady chairman, with cold dignity, and a look of 
 reproof. " We are Christians, and expect to do
 
 SPIRITUAL PKIDE. 239 
 
 right. Damask curtains, and velvet furniture, our 
 plan certainly, does not embrace. But simple ne 
 cessaries, and arrangements for health, will be 
 provided amply." 
 
 The contrast of spirit and personal bearing be 
 tween the two women, was too marked not to make 
 its impression on the minds of the ladies present. 
 
 " These, of course, are not contemplated," calmly 
 replied Mrs. Royal. " But, as I have intimated, it 
 will help us in the right establishment of this 
 Home for motherless children, if we feel as mothers 
 in all we do and provide. Now, you have heard 
 the plan of organization read, with all the details to 
 be carried out by the Matron in charge. It sounds 
 very well is taking and specious. But let us go 
 down to the particulars, and take down with us the 
 tender little ones we have, and ask ourselves, if we 
 could leave them in the iron boundaries of such 
 a discipline^ without a shiver in every heart-string? 
 No, my sisters, we could not ! All babes are alike 
 precious in the eyes of God. Yours, mine, and the 
 babes of the sad pauper who dies in the almshouse. 
 And they are alike tender, and would be as hu 
 manely cared for, if the hearts of Christian men 
 and women were filled with the divine love of Him
 
 240 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 who said, ' Suffer the little children to come unto me, 
 and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of 
 heaven.' Let us not, then, bind ourselves, at this 
 early stage of proceedings, to any fixed discipline 
 for the Home we are about to establish ; but, first, 
 select the right woman for Matron, if such a one 
 can be found, and leave a great many little things 
 to her loving heart, and wise perception. Pardon 
 me, sisters, for saying so much. But, my heart is 
 in this thing." 
 
 There was a quiver of feeling in the voice 01 
 Mi's. Royal, as she closed and sat down, that 
 touched more than one who had listened to her 
 earnest appeal. 
 
 " You have heard the plan of organization," said 
 Mrs. Hartman, with something of contempt in her 
 voice. " Shall the vote on it now be taken ?" 
 
 She paused, and looked from face to face. A 
 feeble "Aye" "Aye" was heard from two voices. 
 Then all was still. Mrs. Royal's words had made 
 no light impression. A lady, whose social position 
 and influence in the church was in no respect infe 
 rior to that of Mrs. Hartman, now arose and said 
 
 " Our good sister Royal has spoken well. As 
 mothers, let us give a portion of true motherly love
 
 SPIRITUAL PRIDE. 241 
 
 to the poor little ones we seek to benefit. We 
 need not rob our own children in doing this ; for 
 God will fill our hearts even fuller of love for them. 
 I agree with sister Royal, that much depends upon 
 the character of the Matron we select. She should, 
 herself, be a mother ; a wise, loving, tender mother. 
 But, where are we to find such a one ?" 
 
 The lady's eyes turned, by an almost involuntary 
 movement, towards Mrs. Royal ; and others looked 
 in the same direction. There seemed to be a com 
 mon perception in the minds of a number, that she 
 was just the woman for the place. 
 
 " Sister Royal has just said," continued the lady, 
 " that her heart is in this thing. Why may not 
 her hands be engaged in it, also ?" 
 
 She paused again. Mrs. Hartman's face flushed, 
 and she moved in her chair, uneasily. Her whole 
 manner repelled the idea. The way in which Mrs. 
 Royal received the suggestion, showed that a 
 thought of such a thing had never crossed her 
 mind. She was startled and embarrassed. 
 
 "What say you?" the lady addressed Mrs. 
 Royal. 
 
 " I can say nothing," was the poor woman's an 
 swer ; " because, in the first place, I have not given 
 
 11
 
 242 STEPS TOWARDS IIEAVEN. 
 
 the subject a thought; and, in the second place, 
 circumstances do not warrant its consideration now. 
 Neither you nor I would be in freedom. But, as 
 my name has, most unexpectedly, been used in 
 this connection, and as no further proceedings can 
 go on unembarrassed, while I remain, with permis 
 sion of the President, I will retire." 
 
 Mrs. Hartman gave a stately assenting inclina 
 tion of her head, and Mrs. Royal promptly with 
 drew. 
 
 " She is not the woman for that place," said Mrs. 
 Hartman, in a very decided manner. 
 
 " She shall never fill it with my consent," chimed 
 in the lady, who had offered the plan of organi 
 zation. 
 
 " Kor with mine, either," said the one who had 
 suggested the name of Mrs. Royal, "if there is 
 anything in her character or disposition that would 
 unfit her for so important a position. "We must 
 have the right person, and, in order to secure this, 
 must act without fear or favor." 
 
 " My own view of the case," remarked another 
 of the Managers, " as far as I can see, Mrs. Royal 
 is just the woman we are in search of; though I 
 should not have thought of proposing her ; nor am
 
 SPIRITUAL PRIDE. 243 
 
 I at all certain that she will undertake so impor 
 tant a duty. My own impression is, that her health 
 is too feeble." 
 
 "It is just what she wants to give her renewed 
 health," said another. " She is killing herself with 
 confinement over the needle. Take her out of 
 her present life, and give her one of more 
 scope, and increased activity of mind and body, 
 and, my word for it, you will add ten years to her 
 life. Leave her where she is, and in less than half 
 of that period, you will be called on to receive her 
 orphans into your Home." 
 
 " Then have we not a double duty before us ?" 
 queried the member who had brought the name of 
 Mrs. Royal before the meeting. " And, indeed, is 
 not Providence leading us into the right way. He 
 will so lead us, if we, in heart, desire to accomplish 
 the good thing now in our minds. Suppose, with 
 Mrs. Royal in view, we appoint a committee of 
 conference with our minister. He knows her bet 
 ter, perhaps, than any one of us." 
 
 "Not better than I do," interrupted Mrs. Hart- 
 man. 
 
 " First, then,". answered the lady to this, "let us 
 hear our President. She is not in favor of Mrs
 
 244 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 .Royal. Of course, she must know something, that, 
 in her mind, constitutes disqualification. She may 
 give information that will enable us to decide at once, 
 If Mrs. Eoyal is unfitted for the place of Matron, 
 I am the last one to advocate her appointment." 
 
 Thus appealed to, Mrs. Hartman could not hold 
 back. Yet, what had she to say ? What had she 
 to allege against Mrs. Royal?" She searched 
 along memory's quickly-turned pages, but no perti 
 nent facts were disclosed. 
 
 " She'll give you trouble, take my word for it, 
 if you make this appointment," said Mrs. Hartman, 
 with ill-concealed unkindness of feeling. 
 
 "I have known Mrs. Royal for a good many 
 years," was the answer of a lady to this, " and I 
 have seen nothing in her, during all that time, 
 which has left an unfavorable impression. She ia 
 a humble-minded Christian." 
 
 " Humble minded !" echoed Mrs. Hartman. 
 " She is anything but that. Once she did sewing 
 for my family ; but, her free, presuming way of 
 putting herself on an equality with me, was more 
 than I could stand. So I changed my seamstress. 
 Humble-minded, indeed ! She gave evidence of 
 tftat to-day, I think."
 
 SPIRITUAL TKIDE. 24:5 
 
 " "We are getting rather ahead of our work," sug 
 gested a member. " The question really before us 
 is, a consideration of the plan for organizing the 
 Home. With permission, I would move the ap 
 pointment of a committee of three to consider that 
 plan, and to confer, at the same time, with our 
 minister." 
 
 This motion was seconded, and carried without 
 debate. 
 
 "I now move," said the lady, "that the sub 
 ject of a Matron be referred to the same com 
 mittee." 
 
 This was also seconded, and carried. 
 
 " How shall that committee be appointed ?" in 
 quired Mrs. Hartman. 
 
 " I nominate Mrs. "Wilkins," said a lady. Mrs. 
 WTlkins was the member who had suggested Mrs. 
 Royal as the right person for Matron. 
 
 " I nominate Mrs. Hartman," said another. 
 
 " Mrs. Armour," said a third. 
 
 No further nominations being made, a vote was 
 taken, and the ladies mentioned, elected to serve 
 on this important committee. 
 
 The first impulse of Mrs. Hartman was to decline 
 the appointment. But a feeling of opposition to
 
 246 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 Mrs. Royal, and a wish to prevent her election to 
 the office of Matron evercame this impulse. 
 
 " She will never be the Matron of that Home." 
 she said, resolutely, to herself, as she walked away 
 from the meeting, " I'll compass heaven and earth 
 to circumvent the scheme. Mrs. Royal !" 
 
 There was a feeling of bitter contempt in the 
 heart of the lady. 
 
 "To set herself up to oppose and criticise my 
 plan of organizing the Home ; and to intimate that 
 there was in it no Christian or motherly spirit! 
 Humph! She expects her young hopefuls to be 
 sent there before long, and wants damask cur 
 tains and velvet furniture. She's got above her 
 self." 
 
 In this spirit, Mrs. Hartman returned from the 
 meeting called to organize one of the purest chari 
 ties in which the heart can engage. On her way 
 home, it occurred to her that, as she had great in 
 fluence with the minister, the first and best move 
 for her was to see him before any other membei of 
 the Board of Managers, and get him committed to 
 her views. So she turned aside and called upon 
 the clergyman. 
 
 " Well," said she familiarly, and with some ear-
 
 SPIRITUAL PltlDE. 247 
 
 nestness of manner, as soon as she was seated with 
 him, " we have had our meeting." 
 
 " For organizing the Children's Home ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " You are moving in the right direction. God's 
 tenderest love is towards little children ; and if we 
 care for them in the right spirit, God will care for 
 us. If even the giving of so small a thing as a cup 
 of -cold water does not lose its reward, how much 
 of blessings may we not call down upon our souls 
 by enlarging our charites." 
 
 Mrs. Hartman did not respond with warmth to 
 these sentiments. She felt a little embarrassed, for 
 the minister's words had sent a gleam of light into 
 certain corners of her mind where dusty cobwebs 
 hung. 
 
 "There has been a committee of conference ap 
 pointed," she remarked. 
 
 " Ah ! Conference with whom ?" 
 
 " "With /ourseli" 
 
 " Indeed. On what subject ?" 
 
 " We wish to submit our plan of organization ; 
 and also to consult you about a Matron, in whose 
 care the children may be placed." 
 
 " Important questions to consider," said the min-
 
 248 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 ister. Has any one been suggested as worthy to 
 occupy the post of Matron ?" 
 
 " Some one named Mrs. Koyal," replied the lady. 
 Ehere were rejection and contempt in her manner 
 
 " The very person I have had in my mind's eye 
 from the beginning," said the minister. " If sister 
 Royal will accept the place there is no need to 
 seek further." 
 
 " Oh, there's no fear as to that," answered Mrs. 
 Hartman, with ill-suppressed chagrin. " She'll 
 jump at it." 
 
 "Then you may consider yourselves, or rather 
 the motherless children who are to have care, pro 
 tection, and love, as most fortunate. Sister Koyal 
 is a true Christian woman." 
 
 Mrs. Hartman's feelings were thrown into a state 
 of fresh disturbance. "Is it possible," she said 
 within herself, " that I am to be over-ridden and 
 circumvented in this matter !" 
 
 " Perhaps," she suggested, " I may have enjoyed 
 better opportunities for close observation than you 
 possess." 
 
 " Not at all improbable," returned the minister. 
 " And as it is plain that you do not favor the selec 
 tion of Mrs. Royal, I hope you will speak out
 
 SPIRITUAL PRIDE. 2i9 
 
 freely, and state your objections in all candor. In 
 this matter, we are not to consult private feelings 
 or prejudices, but to look to the good of those little 
 ones intrusted to our care by God." 
 
 " In the first place," said Mrs. Hartman, in reply, 
 " she is above herself. She doesn't know how to 
 keep her place now ; and therefore, it is plain, that 
 if elevated to so important a trust, she will be for 
 ever intruding her own opinions, and insisting on 
 her own views of things, and so give us endless 
 trouble. Why, this very afternoon, the moment a 
 carefully-digested plan of organizing the Home was 
 offered for acceptance, she, and she only, made op 
 position." 
 
 " On what ground ?" asked the minister. 
 
 " Oh, I can hardly remember now. Some ab 
 surd objection, I believe, about the way in which 
 the children were to be cared for. She wanted 
 damask curtains, velvet furniture, and all that, for 
 them, if I understood the drift of her remarks. It 
 was a mistake ever to have put her upon the Board 
 of Management ; and we shall have trouble so long 
 as she is there. I, for one, don't intend bemoaning 
 myself in any controversies with her ; and if she 
 holds her place in the Board, and is as forward as 
 11*
 
 250 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 she was to day at all of our meetings, I shall re 
 sign." 
 
 The minister's aspect became grave. He looked 
 down deeper into the lady's heart than she 
 imagined, and saw that pride was at work far 
 more actively than a spirit of unselfish benevo 
 lence." 
 
 " She shall never be the Matron, with my con 
 sent." Mrs. Hartman drew up her head in proud 
 self-consciousness. 
 
 " Nor with mine," answered the minister, " un 
 less eminently qualified for the office." 
 
 " That she is not," was the lady's positive assev 
 eration. 
 
 " I am afraid, sister Hartman," said the minis 
 ter, after musing for a little while, " that you 
 have permitted some prejudice to creep into your 
 mind." 
 
 " Oh, no !" Mrs. Hartman flushed a little, bri 
 dled a little, and looked a little dignified. 
 
 " Our hearts are very deceitful, sister," there 
 was a kind smile on the minister's face, and a tone 
 of interest in his voice " ' Deceitful,' the Bible tells 
 us, 'and desperately wicked.' "We must watch, 
 therefore, lest its natural inclinations lead us astray.
 
 SPIRITUAL PKIDE. 251 
 
 I have already seen, that you were annoyed at the 
 election of Mrs. Royal to a place in the manage 
 ment of this proposed Home; and I think, if I 
 may speak plainly to you on the subject, as is my 
 duty, that I have penetrated the reason thereof. 
 But before going a step further, let me ask, my 
 sister, whether you can bear the truth, if in that 
 truth should come to you an accusation of wrong, 
 both in feeling and conduct?" 
 
 " Oh, I am not perfect ; I am only human," said 
 Mrs. Hartman, in reply, her, manner becoming 
 much disturbed. 
 
 " God looks into our very thoughts ; yea, and 
 below these, to the secert impulses of feeling that 
 quicken them into life," remarked the teacher, im 
 pressively. " He knows us better than we know 
 ourselves. He is not a respecter of persons, nor a 
 regarder of position or worldly influence. Hath he 
 not chosen the poor of this world, rich in faith, and 
 heirs of the kingdom ? Are not all little children 
 precious in his sight ?" 
 
 The minister paused, and the eyes of his listener 
 fell beneath his earnest look. 
 
 " Sister Hartman," resumed the minister impres 
 sively, "I fear that th? earthly good things poured
 
 252 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 so bountifully into your lap by a kind Providence, 
 have been regarded as evidences of superior good 
 ness on your part ; and that you have suffered that 
 dangerous enemy, spiritual pride, to creep in and 
 blind you to real good in others, who walk in hum 
 bler paths. I know Mrs. Royal well. For years I 
 have noted her incomings and her outgoings. I 
 have seen her in the midst of sore trials, and under 
 the pressure of heavy burdens. Yet, was she al 
 ways patient, kind, enduring and self-denying. 
 Steadily has she moved onwards, keeping the quiet 
 tenor of her way ; faithful to all duties ; even- 
 tempered ; unobtrusive, yet never losing her wo 
 manly self-respect. In a word, Mrs. Hartman, her 
 life, as I have read it, and my opportunities have 
 been large, has been the life of a Christian. Can 
 more be asked ?" 
 
 " I think," said Mrs. Hartman, not disposed to 
 let her minister have it all his own way, " that for 
 a woman in her station, Mrs. Royal is entirely too 
 forward. She meets you, with the equal air of any 
 lady in the land. And yet she is only a sewing-wo 
 man. I quit giving her work, on this very account. 
 Her manner always annoyed me. Why, she would 
 'sister Hartman' me, with the sewing in her hand !"
 
 SPIRITUAL PRIDE. 253 
 
 " Is that so ?" asked the minister, in a tone of 
 surprise. 
 
 " Indeed it is so !" replied Mrs. Hartman, en 
 tirely mistaking the tenor of her minister's thoughts. 
 "And it was very annoying. She did it once, 
 before a lady visitor, and I was mortified to death 
 about it. I made up my mind, then, that she and 
 I would have to walk by different ways through 
 the world ; and it has been so ever since." 
 
 " There is only one safe way through the world, 
 Mrs. Hartman," said the minister, " and by that 
 way all must go who expect to gain heaven at the 
 journey's end. Sister Royal, I think, is in the 
 right way the way of duty, self-denial, 
 and humility. You, I fear, have wandered a little." 
 
 " Me !" Mrs. Hartman felt this to be almost an 
 outrage. Mrs. Royal on the road to heaven, and 
 she astray ! Now, that was going too far. 
 
 "All souls, remember," said the minister, with 
 impressive force, " are equal in the sight of God, 
 who never regards the worldly position of any one. 
 The wife of Edward Hartman is no more in His 
 eyes, than the humble widow who makes her gar 
 ments ; nay, noi of so much value, if the humble 
 widow be richer than she in the possession of hea-
 
 254: STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 venly graces. To think thus, may hurt the low 
 false pride of our evil hearts ; but, if we assume to 
 be Christian men and women, let us conform our 
 lives to the pure doctrines of the Gospel. If we do 
 not, our religion is vain, and we are deceiving our 
 selves." 
 
 Before Mrs. Hartman retired from the minister's 
 she understood the true quality of her affections a 
 great deal better than when she called in order to 
 commit him, if possible, to her side of the Matron 
 question. He had faithfully done his duty by her, 
 influential as she was in the church, and dangerous 
 as an opponent ; and there was just good enough 
 left in her to react under the probe of his sharply 
 cutting words. He called upon her, early the next 
 morning, in some concern of mind for the result of 
 his plain speaking. Mrs. Hartman was sober and 
 reserved, but not repellent ; and there was about 
 her something of the air of one who had suffered 
 humiliation of spirit. 
 
 At the next meeting of the Board of Managers-, 
 the minister was present by invitation. Mrs. 
 Royal did not attend. When the name of the poor 
 sewing-woman was introduced in connection with 
 the office of Matron for the Orphans' Home, only
 
 SPIRITUAL PRIDE. 255 
 
 a feeble opposition was made on the part of one lady. 
 In contrast to this, was testimony in her favor of 
 the strongest character so strong, that Mrs. Hart- 
 man felt rebuked by its accumulation in the face 
 of her previous opposition. When the vote was 
 taken on a motion to fill the office of Matron, not a 
 single " nay " was heard. 
 
 The result proved the wisdom of this choice. 
 The Home was at once organized, and Mrs. Royal 
 placed in charge of the motherless little ones who 
 were gathered within its sheltering walls. But, it 
 took Mrs. Hartman a long time to get wholly re 
 conciled. She still held her place as President of 
 
 the Board, and was on the Yisiting Committee ; 
 
 . 
 and tried to feel kindly towards Mrs. Royal, as was 
 
 her duty as a Christian woman. But she was an 
 noyed when the Matron assumed to differ with her 
 in anything pertaining to the children the more 
 so, as it almost always happened that the other 
 ladies of the committee saw things with the 
 Matron's eyes rather than with hers. There was a 
 social gulf between them, which Mrs. Hartman 
 would not have passed, and every seeming attempt 
 on the part of Mrs. Royal to bridge it over, was 
 felt as a presumption that must be repelled.
 
 256 BTEP8 TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 But, self-discipline was going on. Mrs. Hartman 
 had some earnestness of purpose, and some yearn 
 ings after a Christian life. The discipline of time 
 and circumstances was doing its work, and the 
 Divine Providence, which is intimate with every 
 one from the cradle to the grave, so reacting upon 
 her, at every step of her way, that, through pain of 
 mind and pain of body, she was becoming purified 
 and meet for the kingdom. 
 
 Ah ! how full of Mrs. Hartmans are all of our 
 churches ; and how severe must be the humiliating 
 discipline that is to make them lowly in mind as 
 true disciples ! It is hard, very hard, for human 
 pride to bend its neck for the Gospel yoke. Hard 
 for the lofty to sit down, side by side with the 
 humble follower of the meek and lowly Saviour. 
 And yet, to be greatest of all is to be servant of all. 
 Alas ! with what darkness of interior vision do we 
 read the doctrines of Life !
 
 ATJNT5T JONES. THE PEACE MATTKTR.. 257 
 
 XXIII. 
 AUNTY JOKES, THE PEACEMAKER. 
 
 AUNTY JONES she was called "Aunty" by half 
 the village, old and young, though she claimed 
 with no individual in Bloomingdale a blood rela 
 tionship. Aunty Jones was sitting by the window 
 of her neat little cottage home, when a neighbor 
 entered through the white-washed gate, and came 
 with a quick step along the flower-bordered walk 
 that led up to the door. 
 
 "Good afternoon, Aunty," said she, entering 
 without ceremony. 
 
 " Good afternoon, Mrs. Blake ! How are all at 
 home ?" 
 
 " "Well, thank you. How are you to-day?" 
 " As well as usual, dear ; take a chair." 
 Mrs. Blake sat down. She was a young woman 
 with rather a smart air, and free manners. Her 
 ey n s were black, and had a good deal of latent fire
 
 258 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 in them. After a few remarks, she said, with con 
 siderable animation : 
 
 "There's trouble between Mrs. Fry and Mrs. 
 Lingen." 
 
 " Indeed ! I'm sorry for that," said Aunty Jones, 
 a shade of regret passing over her countenance. 
 "What's the matter?" 
 
 "Mrs. Fry is greatly to blame," said Mrs. Blake, 
 " and I don't wonder that Mrs. Lingen is angry. I 
 should be if I were in her place." 
 
 "What has happened to interrupt the good 
 understanding that has always existed between 
 them ? They've been fast friends for years." 
 
 "I know they have," answered Mrs. Blake. 
 " But after what Mrs. Fry has done, it is impossible 
 for them to be friends any longer." 
 
 "What has she done?" Aunty Blake looked 
 seriously troubled. 
 
 " I'll tell you," said Mrs. Blake, speaking in her 
 animated way, and entering with much feeling 
 into the relation : " Willy Lingen was over at Mrs. 
 Fry's this morning, playing with her children 
 The little folks had a falling out about something, 
 as children will fall out, you know, and from 
 angry words came to blows. Hearing the noise
 
 AUNTY JONES, THE PEACEMAKER. 259 
 
 and outcry that followed, Mrs. Fry ran out the 
 garden, and, in a fit of passion, seized Willy Lingen 
 by the hair, and boxed his ears like a fury. He, 
 poor child, as it happened, had been sick all last 
 night with the ear-ache, and the side of his face 
 and head were tender as a boil, and badly swollen. 
 He was, in consequence, hurt terribly. Of course, 
 he came home and told his mother, and, of course, 
 she was outraged, as any mother would be. She 
 didn't stop a moment for reflection, but went, in 
 hot haste, over to Mrs. Fry's, and gave her a piece 
 of her mind in about the plainest kind of terms." 
 
 " Bad bad very bad," said Aunty Jones, shak 
 ing her head. 
 
 "I've just come from Mrs. Lingen's," continued 
 Mrs. Blake ; " and, I can tell you, she's as sharp as 
 an awl about it and a little sharper. Poor Willy 
 shows signs of his hard treatment. Dear little 
 fellow 1 It made my blood boil when his mother 
 told me of the cruel way in which he had been 
 served. Some of the neighbors blame her for what 
 she said to Mrs. Fry, but I don't. I would have 
 said as much, and, maybe, twice as much more, if 
 I had been in her place. Beat a neighbor's child 
 about the head, and pull its hair, when her own
 
 260 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 brats, in all probability, were most to blame ! Ac 
 cording to Willy's story, he was only defending 
 himself when she came at him like a tiger." 
 
 After Mrs. Blake had fully informed Aunty 
 Jones as to this new cause of excitement in the vil 
 lage, she bade her a good afternoon, and went on 
 her gossiping round of visits. Not long after her 
 departure, Aunty Jones had another call. It was 
 from a neighbor in the opposite interest a friend 
 to Mrs. Fry, whose house she had left a little while 
 before. Her version of the affair differed consider 
 ably from that given by Mrs. Blake, with the ex 
 ception of the part about Mrs. Lingen's indignation 
 visit to the house of Mrs. Fry which was given 
 with some added incidents and a higher coloring. 
 
 " Mrs. Fry did just as I would have done, had I 
 been in her place," said she, warmly. " The chil 
 dren were playing together, when Mrs. Fry heard 
 her little Katy scream out suddenly ; running into 
 the garden, she saw Willy Lingen with her finger 
 in his mouth. He got angry with her about some 
 thing, and snapped at her finger like a dog ! Mrs. 
 Fry caught hold of him, and ordered him to let go 
 instantly. But the young savage held on, and she 
 did just as I or you would have done, boxed his
 
 AUNTY JONES, THE 1'EACEMAKJSK. 281 
 
 ears until he was glad to let go ; when he ran off 
 home, bellowing like a calf, and told his mother 
 some lie about it." 
 
 " Bad bad very bad !" Aunty Jones shook her 
 head as before, and looked quite sorrowful about 
 the matter. 
 
 " Of course," said the neighbor, " they will be 
 bitter enemies till they die. Quarrels about chil 
 dren are generally of the worst kind." 
 
 "I hope not," said Aunty Jones. "We must 
 forgive, if we would be forgiven." 
 
 "They'll never forgive each other. How can 
 they ?" remarked the neighbor. " If you'd heard 
 the way in which Mrs. Lingen talked to Mrs. Fry, 
 you'd see that it was impossible. Mrs. Lingen is 
 not the woman to make apologies ; and it would 
 take a book-full to satisfy the lady she was pleased 
 to outrage by all sorts of disgraceful epithets; 
 even going so far as to throw up things that hap 
 pened long before Mrs. Fry was married." 
 
 " I'm very sorry." Aunty Jones had no words 
 to utter but words of regret. 
 
 " Do you blame Mrs. Fry for being outraged ?" 
 The neighbor tried to get Aunty Jones committed 
 to her side of the question.
 
 262 STEPS TOWAED8 IIEAVEN. 
 
 "In all quarrels among neighbors, there is usually 
 faults on both sides." This was as far as she would 
 
 g- 
 
 " I can't see what fault there was on the side of 
 
 Mrs. Fry," was answered with considerable warmth. 
 " Suppose it had been your child instead of Mrs. 
 Fry's, wouldn't you have boxed the ears of the 
 young savage who was biting her finger, to compel 
 him to let go ? My word for it, you would, Aunty 
 Jones ; you are not a stock or a stone." 
 
 But Aunty Jones admitted no imaginary action 
 of her own, by way of justification in the case of 
 Mrs. Fry. She had only regrets to utter. Before 
 night, several neighbors called in to talk the mat 
 ter over with Aunty Jones, each one having a 
 slightly different version of the affair, and each 
 being warmly committed to one side or the other. 
 Mrs. Frick always knew that "Willy Lingen was 
 one of the worst children in Bloomingdale, and as 
 for his mother, it was only necessary to look into 
 her face to see that she was a Tartar. For her 
 part, she fully justified Mrs. Fry, and had told her 
 so. Mrs. Camp had seen Mrs. Lingen, and exam 
 ined poor, dear "Willy's head. None but a savage, 
 in her opinion, could have so cruelly maltreated a
 
 AUNTY JONES, T^E PEACEMAKER. 263 
 
 child. It was well known that Mrs. Fry was a wo 
 man of most ungovernable temper, and beat her 
 own children awfully. Indeed, she had heard it 
 whispered and she repeated the rumor in a con 
 fidential whisper that she had even struck her 
 husband in a fit of passion. 
 
 Aunty Jones was grieved to the heart. To all 
 of this she answered but little, except to suggest 
 that there must be exaggeration on both sides, and 
 that if the exact truth could be brought to the 
 light, it would, in all probability, be found, that 
 both of the exasperated mothers had been excited 
 into a blind passion by falsehood, over-acting, or 
 misrepresentation on the part of the children. The 
 two neighbors, so suddenly set at variance, were, 
 both of them, her warm friends, and had been on 
 terms of close intimacy with each other for years. 
 Both were, in the main, kind-hearted and right- 
 minded women ; and both of them, Aunty Jones 
 believed, would soon bo sorry for what they had 
 done, and ashamed of having taken counsel of pas 
 sion. She was the peacemaker of Bloomingdale ; 
 and even in this bad-looking case, was soon ponder 
 ing the question of reconciliation. 
 
 On the next morning, Aunty Jones went over
 
 264: STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 early to see Mrs. Lingen. She had thought it L<jst 
 to give her the benefit of a night's sleep on the 
 matter. She found her strongly exasperated against 
 Mrs. Fry. "Willy's inflamed ear was shown in 
 triumphant vindication of her right to be angry. 
 Aunty Jones examined the ear, but could not find 
 any very decided marks of inflammation. There 
 was, just within the opening, a little deeper tinge, 
 and on the back of the edr, close to the head, a 
 spot of darker hue, that, if she saw right, came 
 from a little cluster of pimples. Willy had all the 
 appearance of a suffering martyr, as Mrs. Lingen 
 exhibited him in evidence of the wrong done to her 
 mother's heart, and in justification of her indignant 
 assault upon Mrs. Fry. 
 
 " Willy," said Aunty Jones, as he stood before 
 her, with one of his little hands held in one of hers, 
 and her kind, yet earnest eyes, looking right into 
 his "Willy, what was Katy Fry doing to you, 
 when you got her finger into your mouth ?" 
 
 Mrs. Lingen gave a start at this question, and 
 Willy's face crimsoned. A glance from Aunty 
 Jones kept the mother silent. 
 
 "You didn't bite Katy's finger hard, I hope, 
 Willy?"
 
 AUNTY JONES, THE PEACEMAKER. 265 
 
 " No ma'am !" "Willy's face was redder still, as 
 lie made this admission. 
 
 ""What made you bite her finger, "Willy?" 
 Aunty Jones spoke BO very kindly, and yet BO 
 earnestly, keeping the child's eyes fixed in hers all 
 the time that no chance was left for anything but 
 truthful answers. 
 
 " Because she was trying to take my apple from 
 me, and wouldn't let go. But I didn't bite it hard, 
 Aunty Jones; and Mrs. Fry had no business to 
 box me on my sore ear as she did." "Willy closed 
 this defence by bursting into tears. 
 
 Enough, however, had been elicited to place the 
 whole matter in an entirely new light before his 
 mother's eyes. She told the weeping child to leave 
 the room, and, as soon as he had done so, said to 
 her visitor : 
 
 " This is all new to me, Aunty Jones. It is the 
 first intimation I have had of any finger-biting in 
 the case." 
 
 " 1 am told," replied Aunty Jones, " that "Willy 
 bit Katy's finger very badly ; and that Mrs. Fry 
 had to box his ears several times, very severely 
 before he would let go. If this is the case and 
 Willy admits that he did bite the finger can you 
 
 12
 
 266 STEPS TOWAKDS HEAVEN. 
 
 greatly wonder at Mrs. Fry? Keverse the case. 
 Tliink how you would act, if you were to find a 
 neighbor's child biting "Willy's finger, and your 
 child screaming in pain. Would you stay your 
 hand an instant ?" 
 
 The countenance of Mrs. Lingen fell. All indig 
 nation died out of her heart. She stood rebuked 
 in the presence of Aunty Jones, like one convicted 
 of a great wrong. 
 
 " Would you, Mrs. Lingen?" Aunty Jones pressed 
 her last query. 
 
 " No, not for an instant !" was the firm reply. 
 
 A broad smile lit up the fine face of Aunty Jones, 
 as she reached out her hand, and said : 
 
 " There spoke out the true woman ! I knew 
 your heart was in the right place. And I have 
 not lost faith in Mrs. Fry. Neither of you is capa 
 ble of wantonly hurting a child neither of wan 
 tonly outraging the other. There does not exist 
 the slightest reason why you should not be friends 
 as of old." 
 
 " Oh yes, there does," was firmly answered. 
 
 "What reason?" 
 
 "I don't believe she will ever forgive me for 
 what I said to her, yesterday, in the heat of passion."
 
 AUNTY JONES, THE PEACEMAKER. 267 
 
 " Yes, she will. Leave that to me. When she 
 understands how the matter was presented to your 
 mind, she will not wonder that you were provoked ; 
 and the slightest apology on your part, will make 
 all right again." 
 
 " I can't believe it," said Mrs. Lingen. 
 
 " I am sure of it," replied Aunty Jones, confi 
 dently. 
 
 And, in less than an hour she had the two old 
 friends face to face again, bathed in tears of recon 
 ciliation. 
 
 Blessings on Aunty Jones ! She was the peace 
 maker of Bloomingdale. Neighbors would fall out, 
 and busy-bodies would make wider every breach ; 
 but Aunty Jones was always true to her mission 
 always on hand to throw oil upon the troubled 
 waves of passion. She knew that there was honor, 
 and truth, and right purposes in every heart, as 
 well as selfishness and blind passion ; and her 
 hands never rested when she saw the latter ob 
 scuring the former, until the dimming veil was rent 
 asunder. 
 
 "Would that every village and neighborhood had 
 its Aunty Jones.
 
 268 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 XXIY. 
 WHICH SHALL SEKVE? 
 
 THERE is natural life, into which we are born 
 naturally ; and there is spiritual life, which has its 
 beginning in the new birth of divine affections; 
 and the problem of religion is, Which shall serve ? 
 Both cannot rule in the mind: one must be ser 
 vant to the other. The natural mind must give up 
 its evil inclinations, in obedience to the higher laws 
 of spiritual life ; or the spiritual must yield to the 
 natural, and become its slave ; and then the man's 
 last state is worse than the first. 
 
 So the teacher taught ; and with the sentiment 
 clearly discriminated in his mind, Mr. Loring took 
 his way homeward from church, pondering the 
 lesson he had heard. It did not pass from his 
 thoughts, like a vision of the night. He turned it 
 over and over, and viewed it from all sides ; and the 
 longer he dwelt upon it, the more palpable it became.
 
 WHICH SHALL SEBVE? 269 
 
 " So here is the sum and substance of religion, 
 expressed in a formula," he said, as he talked with 
 himself. " The question is, Which shall rule, and 
 which obey ? All is resolved into the simplest ele 
 ments. What remains beyond is to discriminate 
 between the natural and the spiritual ; and on this 
 point the preacher's instruction was clear. ' The 
 natural man,' said he, ' is selfish, proud, cruel, and 
 revengeful ; but the spiritual man is a lover of his 
 neighbor, whose good he seeks ; is humble, forgiv 
 ing, just, and self-denying. There is not much 
 danger of a mistake here. There is little room left 
 for any confounding of ideas. The antithesis is 
 complete." 
 
 Mr. Loring was a man just beginning to be in ear 
 nest on the subject of religion. He went to church, 
 and read his Bible and religious books, because 
 he wished to know the laws of spiritual life. He 
 read a great deal that was mere generalization, and 
 listened to a great deal of abstract discussion of 
 theological questions ; but these did not help him. 
 He wanted the thing narrowed down to a simple 
 formula, suited to all conditions of life, and ready 
 for use at any and all times ; and he had it now, in 
 the proposition Which shall serve ?
 
 270 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 On Monday morning, Mr. Loring went to his 
 store, and began the business duties of another 
 week. He was a man of clear thought, active 
 will, and enduring purpose. Whatever he put his 
 hand to had to move. He generally saw right to 
 the completion of a thing, and worked towards that 
 completion by the quickest means and the readiest 
 way. It was this element in his character that 
 would not let him be satisfied with any vague, 
 dark things in religion. He wanted no "mys 
 teries," but a light set on a bushel, or a city on a 
 hill. 
 
 Among the business letters received on that day 
 was one from a southern customer, ordering several 
 bales of a certain kind of goods, if to be had at quo 
 tations of a specified date, the latest at which he 
 had received the prices current at New York. 
 ISTow, the market was unchanged ; but Mr. Loring 
 knew certain holders of the goods who had recently 
 suffered a heavy loss, and were not, therefore, in 
 any condition to carry stock. 
 
 " I'll make something handsome out of this 
 order," said Mr. Loring to himself, in an animated 
 way. " It comes in the nick of time. Austin & 
 Ledon are in a corner, and to make a sale of this
 
 WHICH SHALL SERVE? 271 
 
 extent, will come down through quite a range of 
 figures." 
 
 So, after transacting some preliminary business, 
 Mr. Loring, quite elated in mind at the prospect of 
 so profitable an operation, left his place of business, 
 and went to the store of Austin & Ledon. In 
 rather an indifferent way the manner assumed, 
 of course he asked the price of the article he had 
 come prepared to buy. 
 
 " How much do you want?" inquired Mr. Ledon, 
 the younger partner of the firm. 
 
 " That will depend something upon the price," 
 answered Mr. Loring, with evasion. 
 
 " There has been no change in quotations for 
 some weeks, and the stock in first hands is not 
 large." 
 
 " Are there not several heavy shipments on the 
 way ?" Queried Mr. Loring. 
 , A shadow glided across the face of Mr. Ledon. 
 Mr. Loring saw it, and with a feeling of satis 
 faction. 
 
 " I have not heard of them," replied Mr. Ledon. 
 
 "I think, on inquiry, that you will find my inti 
 mations correct. I was at Baker & Brothers yes 
 terday, and noticed a pile of invoices on their desk.
 
 272 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 The steamer's letters had just arrived; and yon 
 know that they are extensive operators in the 
 article." 
 
 " Yes ; I know." There was a shade of despond 
 ency in the tones of Mr. Ledon. 
 
 "I will take twenty bales, if I can get them 
 right," said the bargaining purchaser. 
 
 " You shall have them right," was the emphatic 
 answer. " Let me say a word to Mr. Austin." 
 
 After a brief consultation with his partner, Mr. 
 Ledon returned to Mr. Loring, and named a price 
 which was at least five per cent, below the regular 
 quotations. 
 
 But Mr. Loring looked grave, and shook his head. 
 And now, the senior partner, anxious to make so im 
 portant a sale, came out from the counting-room." 
 
 " Not temptation enough," said Mr. Loring, ad 
 dressing himself to Mr. Austin. 
 
 "The price we have quoted is only a fraction- 
 above cost," replied the merchant. " Indeed, when 
 interest and storage are added, the margin left to us 
 will be scarcely discernible." 
 
 Now, Mr. Loring had fixed in his mind a reduc 
 tion of ten per cent, below quotations. This would 
 give him a clear gain of a hundred and fifty dol
 
 WHICH SHALL SERVE? 273 
 
 lars besides commissions. Already, in fancy, he 
 had added that sum to the day's earnings ; and to 
 abate a single dime thereof seemed like an actual 
 loss. 
 
 " I think I had better hold on a few days," said 
 he, indifferently. "The present rates cannot be 
 sustained. I have no doubt, but that Barker & 
 Brothers have large invoices on the way. It will 
 be safer for me to see them first, at any rate." 
 
 The partners glanced at each other, uneasily, 
 then drew aside and talked together in a low tone. 
 Mr. Loring heard the words 
 
 "We cannot afford to lose this sale" "Needs 
 are too pressing " " Shall sustain a loss, if we 
 recede farther" "Mustn't let him go to Bar 
 ker's." 
 
 " The fact is, Mr. Loring," said Mr. Austin, the 
 senior partner, speaking in a sober, yet frank way 
 " Our recent heavy loss has rather tied up our 
 hands, and cut off our resources. But for this, we 
 would not have named anything below market 
 rates. You want twenty bales ?" 
 
 " Yes, I would take twenty, if the price suited." 
 
 Mr. Austin stood in thought for a few minutes, 
 and then gave a price that exactly suited the views 
 
 12*
 
 274 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 of Mr. Loring, who ordered the goods sent to his 
 store. 
 
 "That will do for one transaction," said the 
 shrewd merchant, as he walked back to his place 
 of business. " I can afford to sit with idle hands 
 for the rest of the day." 
 
 After the pleasurable excitement occasioned by 
 this piece of bargain-making had subsided, Mr. 
 Loring was conscious of an uncomfortable pressure 
 on his feelings. He was not altogether at ease in 
 his mind. Something had jarred the machinery ol 
 his life. What could it be ? from whence was the 
 element of disturbance? What was its nature? 
 Mr. Loring turned back his thoughts upon the 
 morning's incidents ; but failed to discover the 
 cause. 
 
 In the course of the day, the goods bought from 
 Austin & Ledon were sent in, and the invoice 
 laid on the desk of Mr. Loring. As his eyes rested 
 on the footing up, and he made a hurried calcula 
 tion of his profit in the transaction, he felt a 
 renewed glow of pleasure ; but this soon went 
 down again, and the uncomfortable feeling re 
 turned. The pressure still remained at the close 
 of business hours, and he took it home with him.
 
 WHICH SHALL SERVE? 275 
 
 " "What is the meaning of this ?" he said within 
 himself, as he sat alone, after tea, in anything but 
 a pleasant frame of mind. " I have no cause to 
 complain of the day's business. My profit has 
 largely exceeded that of any other this season." 
 
 Then, as he sat musing, his thoughts returned to 
 the subject which had so much interested him on 
 the day before, and the query, " Which shall 
 serve ?" again arrested his attention. 
 
 "Ah ! That is the touch-stone," he said. " Let 
 me examine my day's work, and see how it will 
 bear the test." 
 
 Of course, the leading transaction came up first. 
 
 " Which served here, the spiritual or the natu 
 ral ?" He asked the question with some firmness. 
 
 But, there was, for a little while, a bewilderment. 
 He could not see clearly. All the elements of his 
 mind were thrown into temporary confusion. 
 
 " There is a divine standard," he said, resolutely 
 to himself, at last, " and the quality of all actions 
 must be determined by this. 'As ye would that 
 men should do unto you, do ye even so to them.' 
 Did I observe this Golden Eule in that transaction? 
 Let me reverse the positions of all parties. Ah, 
 no ! I see it clearly now. I would not have thought
 
 276 STEPS TOWAKDS HEAVEN. 
 
 it right in Austin & Ledon to take from me the 
 fair profit on my goods, because a necessity, which 
 I could not shun, placed me in their hands. And 
 now, the question comes up again, " "Which served 
 here, the spiritual or the natural ?" 
 
 Mr. Loring bowed his head and sat musing on 
 the proposition. " The natural man," so his thought 
 run, " is selfish, proud, and cruel ; the spiritual 
 man a lover of the neighbor, just and self-denying." 
 The difference was very clearly marked. There 
 could be no danger of error. 
 
 " Which served ?" Mr. Loring was in so earnest 
 a frame of mind, that he spoke aloud. There was 
 a pause. Specious reasonings began to intrude 
 themselves, and self-interest to lift a blinding veil. 
 In the strife that now began, Mr. Loring started to 
 his feet, and commenced pacing the floor. 
 
 " You cannot bring this law down into ordinary 
 business transactions. It would be suicidal," said 
 self-interest. " There must be a great change in the 
 world, before a man is able to live up to the Gospel 
 standard in trade." 
 
 But enlightened reason saw the fallacy of this, as 
 applied to the case on hand, and answered it by 
 the question
 
 WHICH SHALL SEKVE? 277 
 
 " Did I act upon the ' let live,' as well as the 
 * live ' principle, in the present case ? No ; I did 
 not!" was the emphatic response; "but instead, 
 coveted my neighbor's goods, and used deceiving 
 arts, in order to obtain them ! I was not content 
 to make a fair profit, in an honorable transaction ; 
 but, discovering my neighbor's necessities, took 
 advantage of them, to secure for myself what of 
 right was his. Which served in this case ?" 
 
 Mr. Loring paused, and stood still; then reso 
 lutely answered to himself. 
 
 "The spiritual served! The higher principle 
 stooped down and degraded itself, as a servant to 
 the lower. Neighborly love became passive, that 
 self-love might rule. Good gave place to evil !" 
 
 " This will not do," he resumed, after standing 
 silent for some moments. " If I wish to turn my 
 steps heavenward, I must seek another way ; for 
 all progress in this direction must be downwards 
 instead of upwards. The order of life must be re 
 versed. Natural, selfish affections must be servant 
 to spiritual and divine affections. Religion is life x 
 and life is action ; a religious life must, therefore, 
 be a good life." 
 
 But natural affections were not thus to be over-
 
 278 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 come by a single effort. The life of self-love is 
 strong in the heart of every man ; for it has been 
 stimulated, from childhood up, with an abundance 
 of the most nutritious food. The forces of evil 
 rallied again ; and, for a time, Mr. Loring's clear 
 perceptions were dimmed, and he felt weak in the 
 hands of the enemies of his soul. Then, in con 
 scious weakness and fear, he looked upwards and 
 prayed for wisdom and strength for clear sight 
 and unflinching purpose. 
 
 " I have done evil," he said now to himself, " and 
 have sinned against God ; but I repent." 
 
 " Then do the works meet for repentance." The 
 injunction was in his own thought, and he answered 
 "I will!" 
 
 "When Mr. Loring became really in earnest in a 
 matter, he was no half-way man. From this point 
 he refused to listen to the pleadings and demands 
 of natural principles, and steadily maintained a 
 better resolution. On the next day he drew up the 
 notes to be given for the goods purchased of Austin 
 & Ledon, and made them for an amount equal to 
 the price of the goods at current quotations. 
 
 " You have made an error," said Mr. Austin, as 
 he looked at the face of the notes.
 
 WHICH SHALL SEKVE? 279 
 
 " I am aware of that," replied Mr. Loring, " and 
 simply correct it now. I have ascertained that 
 Barker & Brother have no shipments on the way, 
 as I intimated yesterday. The goods will not, I pre 
 sume, recede, but rather advance in the next sixty 
 days. So I consider it only fair to let you make 
 your profit, and I will be content with mine." 
 
 " You are a strange man," said Mr. Austin, taken 
 altogether by surprise. 
 
 " How so ?" was the quiet interrogation. 
 
 " It is now thirty years since I began business in 
 this city," replied Austin, " and this is the first in 
 stance within my knowledge of a merchant's reced 
 ing, to his own disadvantage, from a good bargain." 
 
 " Am I wrong ?" inquired Mr. Loring. 
 
 " You are just," said the other. 
 
 " Then I am right ; for if this be just, the oppo 
 site would be unjust." 
 
 " I am not sure, however," said Mr. Austin, " that 
 we can accept your generous concession. "We sold 
 the goods at a price agreed upon, and we preferred 
 Belling to keeping them in store. It was a fair 
 business transaction." 
 
 "You cannot hold me to an unjust thing," re 
 plied Mr. Loring. " According to your own view
 
 280 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 of the case, my offer to pay the regular market 
 price you considered an act of justice. To settle, 
 according to the original agreement, would, there- 
 fare, involve injustice on my part, and leave my 
 conscience troubled." 
 
 " Have it your own way; have it your own way, 
 Mr. Loring!" Austin replied, with some feeling. 
 " This is, indeed, a new thing under the sun. The 
 millennium is at hand !" 
 
 Mr. Loring smiled, and said 
 
 "Is it so strange a thing, then, for men to be 
 simply just in business ?" 
 
 " It is, in my experience," replied Mr. Austin. 
 " Every man goes in for himself ; and in going in 
 for himself, ignores the interest of his neighbor. 
 Get what you can, through any modes of sharp 
 bargaining not hindered by law, and keep all you 
 get. This is the mercantile creed of to-day. And 
 I do not afirm that I have acted, in all of my deal 
 ings, very far away from this creed. But, Mr 
 Loring, your conduct a little staggers my faith in 
 myself. It is just, I see; but I am not sure that I 
 could have done so nobly. I honor you as a Chris 
 tian merchant, and wish from my heart that the 
 world were full of such."
 
 WHICH SHALL SERVE? 281 
 
 And he caught the hand of Mr. Loring in his 
 enthusiasm, and clasped it with a firm pressure. 
 
 " We call ourselves Christian men," said Mr. 
 Loring ; " but can we be Christian men if we are not 
 Christian merchants ? Is any man entitled to the 
 name who narrows down his purposes to the little 
 item of self, as if he were of most importance in the 
 world? I think not. There must be just action 
 towards others, or there can be no Christianity in 
 the heart." 
 
 " The doctrine is clear," replied Mi , Austin ; 
 "and I thank you for both the true precept and 
 the good action. I think the profit will le mine as 
 well as yours." 
 
 After that Mr. Loring walked in a broader light, 
 and with a firmer step. The way before Iiloa was 
 plainer. He saw, clearly discriminated, the differ 
 ence between natural and spiritual principles ; and 
 elected, that in his mind the spiritual should aofc 
 serve, but rule ; and it was so.
 
 282 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 MR. BROWNLEE'S VISITOR. 
 
 MR. BROWNLEE felt comfortable. It was evening, 
 and late in December. Outside, the wind had a 
 cold, sharp whistle, and the snow, with which it- 
 was laden, had been weaving, since early morning, 
 a shroud for the waning year. Within, the grate 
 glowed, the gas burned brilliantly, wife smiled, and 
 children played in happy unconsciousness of cold, 
 or want, or suffering. 
 
 Mr. Brownlee was in his pleasant sitting-room, 
 the walls of which were hung with pictures, the 
 windows draped with curtains, and the floor car 
 peted with yielding Brussels. He sat by a centre 
 table, on which were new books and the latest 
 numbers of the best monthlies. 
 
 Now, all this was calculated to make a man feel 
 comfortable; and Mr. Brownlee was entitled to 
 what he enjoyed ; for he was an honorable, intel-
 
 MR. BROWNIEE'S VISITOR. 283 
 
 ligent, active, and successful merchant, a good citi 
 zen, a loving husband, and a wise and tender parent. 
 
 " Wasn't that our bell ?" Mr. Brownlee asked, 
 looking up from the page of a book. 
 
 " I think so," answered Mrs. Brownlee, and both 
 listened as the waiter moved along the passage. A 
 man's voice was heard. 
 
 " I shouldn't wonder," said Mr. Brownlee, " if 
 that were Mr. Lewis." There was a shade of dis 
 satisfaction in his tones. 
 
 "Mr. Lewis," said the waiter, entering the sit 
 ting-room a few moments afterwards. 
 
 " Ask him to walk up stairs." 
 
 The waiter retired. Mr. and Mrs. Brownlee 
 looked at each other ; but as their children were 
 present, neither made any remark. But it was un 
 derstood between them that the visit of Mr. Lewis 
 was mutually regarded as something bordering on 
 an intrusion. They were feeling very comfortable, 
 as we have seen, shut in from the chilling wintry 
 blasts, and with the most agreeable surroundings ; 
 and the presence of any stranger, just at that time, 
 could scarcely help being unwelcome. 
 
 " Good evening, Mr. Lewis." Mr. Brownlee's 
 voice was kind, if not cordial.
 
 284 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 A man plainly, we might say coarsely, dressed 
 entered the room. His manners were far from 
 being polished ; though his rather pale, care-worn 
 face had in it many indications of a natural refine 
 ment^ 
 
 " Good evening," he responded, giving an awk 
 ward nod. " Good evening, ma'am," was added 
 with a nod, in turn, to Mrs. Brownlee. And the; i 
 he came forwards and took the chair that was 
 offered him, and drawing up to the grate, warmed 
 himself. 
 
 " Heavy storm this," remarked Mr. Brownlee. 
 
 " Yes. The snow lies over a foot d ^p. But 
 you are very comfortable here." And Air. Lewis 
 glanced around the pleasant room. 
 
 " How is your wife to day ?" L quired Mrs. 
 Brownlee. 
 
 " Something better, thank you, ma'am. I hav'n't 
 been able to see her ; but the nurse told me that 
 she slept last night, and has less fever to-day. I 
 feel very much encouraged. Oh, djear! If she 
 only gets over it, I shall be so rejoiced !" 
 
 " How many children have you ?" 
 
 "Four, ma'am; and the youngest is just about 
 as old as that dear little girl now in your lap. Oh,
 
 MR. BROWNLEE'S VISITOR. 285 
 
 dear ! It was hard for her to be separated from 
 her mother, but harder for the mother. I'm so in 
 hopes she'll get safely over it soon. I talked with 
 the doctor to-day ; and he says that he's no doubt 
 all will come out right." 
 
 " I hope so, indeed," said Mrs. Brownlee, kindly. 
 
 " How pleasant it is here !" and Mr. Lewis looked 
 all around the room again. " And you are so hap 
 py in having all your children around you ! Home 
 is a blessed place blessed, even though homely. 
 Mine wasn't like this ; but it was a happy home for 
 all that." 
 
 " "Where are your children now ?" 
 
 " Scattered all around among relations poor 
 things ! Since my wife's sickness, it's taken all I had 
 saved, and all I could earn, to get her doctored. Oh, 
 if they should cure her now, I shall be so happy !" 
 
 " We will hope for the best," said Mr. Brownlee. 
 
 ""I always do that ; but it has been hoping 
 against hope for the last eight or nine months. 
 The darkest hour, they tell us, is just before day 
 break. So I comfort myself with thinking the 
 morning is very near." 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Brownlee were touched with the 
 earnestness and simple pathos of their visitor, a
 
 286 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 poor man from the country, who had brought his 
 wife to one of the city hospitals to be cured, if 
 possible, of a disease that for a time threatened her 
 life. Mr. Brownlee had met him by accident, and 
 from kindness of heart invited him to his house. 
 Mr. Lewis had taken advantage of this invitation 
 to drop in two or three times a week and enjoy the 
 home comforts and the books and periodicals he 
 found in Mr. Brownlee's pleasant sitting-room. He 
 was not always an entirely welcome guest; and 
 yet he was so simple-minded, so interested with the 
 children, and manifested so much enjoyment in the 
 books and magazines he found upon the centre 
 table, that neither Mr. Brownlee nor his wife could 
 feel anything but kindness towards their unsophis 
 ticated intruder. 
 
 On the present occasion, Mr. Lewis, after warm 
 ing himself by the grate, talking for a time in his 
 own peculiar way, and amusing himself with the 
 children, took up a book, and was soon buried in 
 its pages. Time went gliding by on swift wings, 
 and Mr. Lewis took no notice of his flight. Nine 
 o'clock came, and the last child was put to bed, 
 but he went on turning the pages of the book in 
 which he had become interested, wholly uncon
 
 MR. BROWNLEE'S VISITOR. 287 
 
 scious that the long evening had waned so far 
 Half-past nine found him still buried in its pages. 
 
 Mr. Brownlee, who had for a time felt pleasure 
 in the poor man's enjoyment of his comfortable 
 surroundings, now began wishing him away. 
 
 " I like to be hospitable," he said to himself, 
 " but this is carrying the joke a little too far." 
 
 Ten o'clock was rung out at last by the hand 
 some French clock on the mantel-piece, but Mr. 
 Lewis did not heed the warning. 
 
 " This is a very interesting book," he said, about 
 five minutes afterwards, looking at Mr. Brownlee, 
 his mild face beaming with true enjoyment. " How 
 pleasant it is here !" he added ; and then his eyes 
 went back to the page from which he had lifted 
 them. 
 
 Mr. Brownlee's heart softened towards the poor 
 man, and yet he could not overcome a feeling of 
 annoyance at his prolonged stay. He looked at 
 his wife, and his wife looked at him then they 
 glanced mutually and meaningly at Mr. Lewis. 
 Mrs. Brownlee yawned, and Mr. Brownlee yawned, 
 rather loudly, in concert; but their guest was 
 wholly oblivious. The fascination of the page was 
 complete. Next, Mr. Brownlee got up, and com
 
 288 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 menced pacing the floor; he was too fidgety to 
 sit still. He looked at the clock, the minute-hand 
 of which was now almost at thirty, looked at Mr. 
 Lewis, looked at his wife, knit his brows, and then 
 walked on more rapidly than before. At last im 
 patience spoke out. 
 
 " Mr. Lewis," said he, " do you know how late 
 it is ?" Now, Mr. Brownlee tried to say this with 
 some gentleness; but his real feelings came more 
 fully into his voice than he was aware. It was 
 plain, from the shadow that came instantly over 
 the face of Mr. Lewis, as he closed the book, and 
 let it fall upon the table, that he felt rebuked. 
 His eyes glanced from the countenance of Mr. 
 Brownlee to the clock on the mantel. 
 
 " Half-past ten !" he said, in surprise. " I didn't 
 dream of its being so late. Time passes much 
 quicker here, I think, than it does in some other 
 places. Good evening, sir ! Good evening, ma'am ! 
 I shall remember your kindness as long as I live. 
 I should not have staid so late; but a book and 
 this pleasant room made me forget myself. At the 
 cheap tavern where I am staying, there is no place 
 to sit down in but the bar ; and I don't like drink 
 ing, smoking, and swearing. I walk the streets
 
 ME. BKOWNLEE'S VISITOR. 289 
 
 half of the evening, sometimes ; but to-night it was 
 too stormy. Good evening, sir. Good evening, 
 ma'am." 
 
 And Mr. Lewis turned away, and went forth 
 into the blinding storm, to walk nearly half a mile 
 before gaming his dreary lodging-place. 
 
 " Poor man !" there was pity in the voice of Mrs. 
 Brownlee. 
 
 " And yet," said Mr. Brownlee, speaking in 
 answer to the words of Mr. Lewis, rather than to 
 those of his wife, " I gave him grudgingly of my 
 home-comforts, and suffered a weak, selfish annoy 
 ance, while he was drinking in pleasure at every 
 source ! What a storm it is !" Mr. Brownlee 
 glanced towards the window, against which had 
 come the snow-laden blast with a heavier rush. 
 " And I have sent this poor man forth to meet its 
 wintry chill, with a pressure on his feelings. A lit 
 tle more Christian patience, a little more considera 
 tion, a little more unselfish pleasure in sharing my 
 good gifts with him, would have made his spirit 
 lighter, and mine also. Kindness, humanity, regard 
 for others, ever bear a double blessing ; the want of 
 them as surely lays upon our hearts a double 
 burden. I was never more conscious of this than 
 
 13
 
 290 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 now. I will try not to forget the lesson. The 
 lighting of another's candle at ours should never 
 dim its radiance, as it has dimmed mine to 
 night."
 
 THE SHADOWS WE CAST. 291 
 
 XXYI. 
 THE SHADOWS WE CAST. 
 
 A CHILD was playing with some building blocks ; 
 and, as the mimic castle rose before his eyes in 
 graceful proportions, a new pleasure swelled in his 
 heart. He felt himself to be the creator of a 
 " thing of beauty," and was conscious of a new 
 born power. Arch, wall, buttress, gateway, draw- 
 bridge, lofty tower, and battlement were all the 
 work of his hands. He was in wonder at his own 
 skill in thus creating, from an unseemly pile of 
 blocks, a structure of such rare design. 
 
 Silently he stood and gazed upon his castle with 
 something like the pride of an architect who sees, 
 after months or years of skillfully applied labor, 
 some grand conception in his art, embodied in im 
 perishable stone. Then he moved around, viewing 
 it on every side. It did not seem to him a toy, 
 reaching only a few inches in height, and covering
 
 292 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 but a square foot of ground, but a real castle, lift 
 ing itself hundreds of feet upwards towards the 
 blue sky, and spreading wide upon the earth its 
 ample foundations. As the idea grew more and 
 more perfect, his strange pleasure increased. Now 
 he stood, with folded arms, wrapped in the over 
 mastering illusion now walked slowly around, 
 viewing the structure on all sides, and noting every 
 minute particular and now sat down, and bent 
 over it with the fondness of a mother bending over 
 her child. Again he arose, purposing to obtain 
 another and more distant view of his work. But 
 his foot struck against one of the buttresses, and 
 instamtly, with a crash, wall, tower, and battlement 
 fell in hopeless ruin ! 
 
 In the room, with the boy sat his father, reading. 
 The crash disturbed him ; and he uttered a sharp, 
 angry rebuke, glancing, for a moment, towards the 
 startled child, and then returning his eyes to the 
 attractive page before him, unconscious of the 
 shadow he had cast upon the heart of his child. 
 Tears came into those fair blue orbs, dancing in 
 light a moment before. From the frowning face of 
 his father, to which his glance was suddenly turned, 
 the child looked back to the shapeless ruins of his
 
 TTTE SHADOWS WE CAST. 293 
 
 castle. Is it any wonder that he bowed his face in 
 silence upon them, and wet them with his tears. 
 
 For more than five minutes, he sat as still as if 
 sleeping ; then, in a mournful kind of way, yet 
 almost noiselessly, he commenced restoring to the 
 box, from which he had taken them, the many- 
 shaped pieces that, fitly joined together, had grown 
 into a noble building. After the box was filled, 
 he replaced the cover, and laid it carefully upon a 
 shelf in the closet. 
 
 Poor child ! That shadow was a deep one, and 
 long in passing away. His mother found him, half 
 an hour afterwards, asleep on the floor, with cheeks 
 flushed to an unusual brightness. She knew 
 nothing of that troubled passage in his young life ; 
 and the father had forgotten, in the attractions of 
 his book, the momentary annoyance, expressed in 
 words and tones with a power in them to shadow 
 the heart of his child. 
 
 A young wife had busied herself for many days 
 in preparing a pleasant surprise for her husband. 
 The work was finished at last ; and now she awaited 
 his return, with a heart full of warm emotions. A 
 dressing-gown, and pair of elegantly embroidered 
 slippers, wrought by her own skillful fingers, were
 
 294: STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 the gifts with which she meant to delight him. 
 What a troop of pleasant fancies was in her heart ! 
 How, almost impatiently, did she wait for the 
 coming twilight, which was to be dawn, not ap 
 proaching darkness, to her ! 
 
 A last, she heard the step of her husband in the 
 passage, and her pulses leaped with fluttering 
 delight. Like a bird upon the wing, she almost 
 flew down to meet him, impatient for the kiss that 
 awaitod her. 
 
 To men in the world of business, few days pas* 
 without their disappointments and perplexities. It 
 is man's business to bear this in a manly spirit. 
 They form but a portion of life's discipline, and 
 should make them stronger, braver, and more en 
 during. Unwisely, and we may say unjustly, too 
 many men fail to leave their business cares and trou 
 bles in their stores, workshops, or counting-rooms, 
 at the day's decline. They wrap them in bundles, 
 and carry them home to shadow their households. 
 
 It was so with the young husband on this parti 
 cular occasion. The stream of business had taken 
 an eddying whirl, and thrown his vessel backwards, 
 instead of onwards, for a brief space ; and, though 
 it was still in the current, and gliding safely onwards
 
 THE SHADOWS WE CAST. 295 
 
 again x the jar and disappointment had fretted his 
 mind severely. There was no heart-warmth in the 
 kiss he gave his wife, not because love had failed 
 in any degree, but because he had let care over 
 shadow lve. He drew his arm around her ; but 
 she was conscious of a diminished pressure in that 
 embracing arm. 
 
 "Are you not well ?" 
 
 With what tender concern was the question 
 asked! 
 
 Very well." 
 
 He might be in body, but not in mind ; that was 
 plain ; for his voice was far from being cheerful. 
 
 She played and sang his favorite pieces, hoping 
 to restore, by the charm of music, brightness to his 
 spirit. But she was conscious of only partial suc 
 cess. There was still a gravity in his manner never 
 perceived before. At tea-time, she smiled upon him 
 so sweetly across the table, and talked to him on 
 such attractive themes, that the rigjit expression 
 returned to his countenance ; and he looked as 
 happy as she could desire. 
 
 From the tea-table, they returned to their plea 
 sant parlor. And now the time had come for offer 
 ing her gift, and receiving the coveted reward of
 
 296 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 glad surprise, followed by sweet kisses and loving 
 words. "Was she selfish ? Did she think more of 
 her reward than of the pleasure she would bestow? 
 But that is questioning too closely. 
 
 " I will be back in a moment," she said ; and, 
 passing from the room, she went lightly up the 
 stairs. Both tone and manner betrayed her secret, 
 or rather the possession of a secret with which her 
 husband was to be surprised. Scarcely had her 
 loving face faded from before his eyes, when 
 thought returned, with a single bound, to an un 
 pleasant event of the day ; and the waters of his 
 spirit were again troubled. He had actually arisen, 
 and crossed the floor once or twice, moved by a 
 restless concern, when his wife came back with the 
 dressing-gown and slippers. She was trying to 
 force her countenance into a grave expression, to 
 hold back the smiles that were continually striving 
 to break in truant circles around her lips, when a 
 single glance at her husband's face told her that 
 the dark spirit, driven away by the exorcism of her 
 love, had returned again to his bosom. He looked 
 at her soberly, as she came forward. 
 
 " What are these ?" he asked, almost coldly, re 
 pressing surprise, and affecting an ignorance, in
 
 THE SHADOWS WE OAST. 297 
 
 regard to the beautiful present she held in her 
 hands, that he did not feel. 
 
 " They are for you, dear. I made them." 
 " For me ? Nonsense ! "What do I want with 
 such jimcrackery ? This is woman's wear. Do 
 you think I would disfigure my feet with embroi 
 dered slippers, or dress up in a calico gown ? Put 
 them away, dear ! Tour husband is too much of a 
 man to robe himself in gay colors, like a clown or 
 actor." And he waved his hand with an air of 
 contempt. There was a cold, sneering manner 
 about him, partly affected and partly real the 
 real born of his uncomfortable state of mind. Yet 
 he loved his sweet wife, and would not, of set pur 
 pose, have wounded her for the world. 
 
 This unexpected repulse this cruel reception of 
 her present, over which she had wrought, patiently, 
 in golden hope for many days this dashing to the 
 earth her brimful cup of joy, just as it touched her 
 lips, was more than the fond young wife could 
 bear. To hide the tears that came rushing to her 
 eyes, she turned away from her husband ; and, to 
 conceal the sobs she had no power to repress, she 
 went almost hurriedly from the room ; and, going 
 back to the chamber from whence she had brought 
 13*
 
 298 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 the present, she laid it away out of sight in a closet. 
 Then covering her face with her hands, she sat 
 down, and strove with herself to be calm. But the 
 shadow was too deep the heartache too heavy. 
 
 In a little while her husband followed her, and 
 discovering, something to his surprise, that she was 
 weeping, said, in a slightly reproving voice: 
 " Why, bless me ! not in tears ! What a silly little 
 puss you are ! Why didn't you tell me you thought 
 of making a dressing-gown and pair of slippers, and 
 I would have vetoed the matter at once? You 
 couldn't hire me to wear such flaunting things. 
 Come back to the parlor" he took hold of her 
 arm, and lifted her from the chair " and sing and 
 play for me. 'The Dream Waltz,' or 'The Tre 
 molo,' ' Dearest May,' or ' The Stilly Night' are 
 worth more to me than forty dressing-gowns, or a 
 cargo of embroidered slippers." 
 
 Almost by force, he led her back to the parlor, 
 and placed her on the music-stool. He selected a 
 favorite piece, and laid it before her. But tears 
 were in her eyes; and she could not see a note. 
 Over the keys her fingers passed in skillful touches ; 
 but, when she tried to take up the song, utterance 
 failed ; and sobs broke forth instead of words.
 
 THE SHADOWS WE CAST. 299 
 
 " How foolish !" said the husband, in a vexed 
 tone. " I'm surprised at you 1" And he turned 
 from the piano, and walked across the room. 
 
 A little while the sad young wife remained 
 where she was left thus alone, and in partial anger. 
 Then, rising, she went slowly from the room her 
 husband not seeking to restrain her and, going to 
 her chamber, sat down in darkness. 
 
 The shadow which had been cast upon her spirit 
 was very deep ; and, though the hidden sun came 
 out again right early, it was a long time before his 
 beams had power to scatter the clouds that floated 
 in love's horizon. 
 
 The shadows we cast ! Father, husband, wife, 
 sister, brother, son, neighbor are we not all cast 
 ing shadows daily, on some hearts that are pining 
 for the sunlight of our faces ? We have given you 
 two pictures of life, true pictures, not as in a mir 
 ror, but in a kaleidoscope. In all their infinitely 
 varied relations, men and women, selfishly, or 
 thoughtlessly from design, weakness, or ignorance 
 are casting their shadows upon hearts that are 
 pining for sunlight. A word, a look, a tone, an 
 act, will cast a shadow, and sadden a spirit for 
 hours and days. Speak kindly, act kindly, be for-
 
 300 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 getters of self, and regardless of others, and you 
 will cast but few shadows along the paths of life. 
 The true gentleman is always tender of the feelings 
 of others always watchful, lest he wound uninten 
 tionally always thinking, when with others, of 
 their pleasure instead of his own. He casts but 
 few shadows. Be gentlemen ladies, or in a 
 word that includes all graces and excellences 
 Christians ; for it is the Christian who casts few 
 est shadows of all.
 
 GOOD DEEDS. 301 
 
 XXVII. 
 GOOD DEEDS. 
 
 " HE is paving the way to heaven by good 
 deeds," said a lady. I bent my ear and listened. 
 
 " Unless it is very well paved, he will find pro 
 gress in that direction exceedingly difficult." The 
 reply fixed my attention. 
 
 " Are yon not uncharitable ?" remarked the first 
 speaker. " Mr. Floyd does a great deal of good. 
 I never go to him on an errand of benevolence, 
 that he does not give me something." 
 
 " To buy paving-stones," was the quiet remark. 
 
 " Now, that is too bad 1" said the other. " Give 
 the man credit for what he does. By their fruit ye 
 shall know them." 
 
 " God looks at the heart, not at the act. It isn't 
 what a man does, that saves him, but why he does 
 it. The quality is determined by the purposes, or 
 ends of action, not by the outside work. Two men
 
 302 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 may do the same thing ; yet, to one it may be a 
 good act, and to the other an evil one." 
 
 " I don't know about that. A good deed is a 
 good deed. By what process can you change its 
 quality ?" 
 
 " I thought," said the other, " that you would 
 understand me clearly. The acts of the two men 
 may benefit alike the objects ; but, the actors will 
 be blessed or cursed therein, according as their 
 motives were good or evil." 
 
 " I am not just able," was replied, " to see how a 
 good deed can be done from an evil purpose. For 
 instance, I called on Mr. Floyd yesterday for a 
 subscription to our "Widows' Home, and he gave 
 me ten dollars. That was a good act, and I can 
 conceive of no prompting impulse but a good one." 
 
 The lady did not immediately reply ; and I was 
 about answering for her, when she said : 
 
 " If Mr. Floyd gave the ten dollars out of regard 
 for the poor widows, then the act was a good act 
 for him ; but, if to appear benevolent, or to buy 
 paving-stones for the road to heaven, then it was 
 evil to him. For, in this latter case, love of the 
 world and love of self, instead of neighborly love, 
 ruled in his heart. And men only advance hea-
 
 GOOD DEEDS. 303 
 
 venward by the way of good aflections. He not 
 only lost his money, but his reward. To the poor 
 widows, the benefit was the same ; but the donor's 
 selfishness robbed him of his proper share." 
 
 " You go too deep for me," was answered to this. 
 " And too deep, I fancy, for most people. Charity, 
 the Bible tells us, covers a multitude of sins. And 
 what is charity, but good deeds ?" 
 
 " Charity is love of the neighbor, manifesting 
 itself in good deeds," was the promptly-spoken 
 reply. 
 
 " Very well ; who will say that Mr. Floyd did 
 not act from true neighborly love ?" 
 
 " God only knows. The adjudication of the mat 
 ter is between him and the human soul. If the 
 motive which God sees, is right, the action will be 
 good ; if selfish, the action will be evil, so far as 
 the actor is concerned." 
 
 " But, you judge Mr. Floyd." 
 
 " Did I ? "Well, there are many external signs 
 by which we get an impression of a man's quality. 
 Some men hang but a thin veil over their motives ; 
 while others, in their over anxiety for concealment, 
 are constantly betraying themselves. Mr. Floyd is 
 one of the most transparent men I know. He ia
 
 304: BTEP8 TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 constantly letting you see below the surface of his 
 actions. The very air with which he hands you a 
 contribution, betrays the lurking sentiment." 
 
 " Then," said the other, " he might as well shut 
 up his bowels of compassion. If good deeds, such 
 as he does, are not to be valid in heaven, he had 
 better keep his own, and enjoy it to the full." 
 
 " Kather say, that he had better make the inside 
 of his platter clean, also. Better cherish loving 
 affections, and do genuine good from these, and so 
 secure his share of benefits. What folly to halt in 
 the way after this fashion to be content with only 
 the effigy of good deeds to be satisfied to eat of 
 the husks of men's extorted praise, instead of en 
 joying divine approval, and eating of heavenly 
 food. As to selfishly enjoying what you call his 
 own, that is impossible. The more he increases in 
 worldly goods, the more wretched will he become, 
 unless he uses them as a faithful steward of him 
 who is the rightful owner of all. Like waters at 
 rest, unused riches spoil, and curse their owners. 
 So, if he will not give from the purest motives, 
 still he had better give, for, in giving, he will find 
 more delight than in withholding. Even the sem 
 blance of good deeds is better than no deeds at all.
 
 GOOD DEEDS. 305 
 
 The neighbor is benefited, and the selfish giver 
 obtains some fleeting pleasure that stirs briefly 
 along the surface of his life. It is next best to 
 genuine charity." 
 
 " Judged by your standard, there is not much 
 good done in the world," was answered. 
 
 " I fear," said the lady, " that there is less of 
 genuine good done by any of us than we are in 
 clined to give ourselves credit for. I know, too 
 well, my own deficiencies." 
 
 " Which makes you sharp on others," the friend 
 remarked, half playfully, half in earnest. 
 
 " Well retorted," was good humoredly answered, 
 " and I accept the admonition ; though, I do not 
 by any means withdraw the main proposition, that 
 the quality of our acts, in the sight of heaven, is 
 determined by the indwelling motive. This, to me, 
 is as apparent as the sun at noonday." 
 
 And the lady was right
 
 306 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 EUINED. 
 
 " THE man is ruined hopelessly ruined ! ' 
 The words startled me. 
 
 " So bad as that ?" said the individual to whom 
 the remark was made. 
 
 " Even so bad." 
 
 " Of whom are you speaking ?" I ventured to ask. 
 
 Of Jacob Atwood." 
 
 I started to my feet. He was one of my old, in 
 timate, and long-tried friends. 
 
 " Kuined, did you say ? That man ruined ! Im 
 possible !" 
 
 " There is no doubt of it. I received my infor 
 mation from those who have the best right to 
 know." 
 
 " "What has he done ?" I asked, eagerly. 
 
 My question was received in silence, as if the 
 meaning were not clearly apprehended.
 
 RUINED. 307 
 
 "Is he a defaulter?" 
 
 " No." The answer showed surprise at my ques; 
 tion. 
 
 " Has he betrayed an honorable trust reposed in 
 him by his fellow-men ?" 
 
 " ISTo, sir ; his integrity is without question. In all 
 his public relations he was true as steel to principle." 
 
 " What then ? Has he placed any portion of his 
 property beyond the reach of creditors who have 
 just claims upon him ?" 
 
 " He has given up everything even to the fur 
 niture of his house. 'Not a dollar has been retained, 
 and he goes forth into the world a ruined man." 
 
 " Oh no," said I, speaking out warmly. " Not in 
 any sense a ruined man. The merchant may be 
 ruined, but, thank God ! -the man is whole." 
 
 The little company looked at me, for a moment 
 or two, half in surprise. 
 
 " The man is all right," I went on. " Only the 
 scaffolding on which the workmen stood who were 
 building up his character, has fallen. Erect, calm, 
 noble, half-divine, he stands, now, in the sunshine 
 and in the storm. Around his majestic brow the 
 clouds may gather ; upon it the tempests may beat ; 
 but he is immovable in his great integrity."
 
 308 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 Some smiled at my enthusiasm. To them there 
 was nothing of the moral sublime in a ruined 
 merchant. Others looked a little more thoughtful^ 
 than before ; and one said feebly : 
 
 " There is something in that." 
 
 Something in that ! I should think there was. 
 
 It was the first intelligence I had received of my 
 friend's worldly misfortunes, and it grieved me. In 
 the evening I went to see Jacob Atwood. The 
 windows of the elegant residence where he had 
 lived for years were closed. I looked up at the 
 house it had a deserted aspect. I rung the bell ; 
 no one answered my summons. 
 
 I could not repress the feeling of sadness that 
 came over me. The trial must have been severe 
 even for a brave heart like his. 
 
 " I must find him," said I. And I did find him ; 
 but far away from the neighborhood where mer 
 chant princes had their palace-homes. The house 
 into which he had retired with his family looked 
 small, and mean, and comfortless, in comparison 
 with the elegant abode from which he had re 
 moved. I rung and was admitted. The parlor into 
 which I was shown was a small room, and the fur 
 niture not much better than we often see in the
 
 BUINED. 30P 
 
 houses of well-to-do mechanics, or clerks on mode 
 rate salaries. But everything was in order, an^ 
 scrupulously neat. 
 
 I had made only a hurried observation, when 
 Mr. Atwood entered. He looked something care 
 worn his face was paler than when I last saw him, 
 his eyes a little duller, his smile less cheerful. The 
 marks of trial and suffering were plainly visible. 
 It would have been almost a miracle had it been 
 otherwise. But he did not exhibit the aspect of a 
 ruined man. He grasped my hand warmly, and 
 said it was pleasant to look into the face of an old 
 friend. I offered him words of sympathy. 
 
 " The worst is over," he answered, with manly 
 cheerfulness, " and nothing is lost which may not 
 be regained. I have found the bottom, know where 
 I am, and there is strength enough left in me to 
 stand up securely amid the rushing waters. The 
 best of all is, my property, which has been ap 
 portioned to my creditors, will pay every debt 
 That gives my heart its lightest pulsations." 
 
 " I heard that you were ruined" said I, as we 
 sat talking together ; " but I find that the man is 
 whole. Not a principle invaded by the enemy 
 not a moral sentiment lost not a jewel in the 
 crown of honor missing."
 
 310 STEPS TOWAKD8 HEAVEN. 
 
 He took my hand, and grasping it hard, looked 
 into my face steadily for some moments. Then, in. 
 a subdued voice, he made answer 
 
 " I trust that it is even so, my friend. But there 
 were seasons in the worse than Egpytian night 
 through which I have passed, when the tempter's 
 power seemed about to crush me. For myself I 
 cared little ; for my wife and children everything. 
 The thought of seeing them go out from the plea 
 sant home I had provided for them, and step down, 
 far down to a lower level in the social grade, half 
 distracted me for a time. For them I would have 
 braved everything but an evil deed, that is sin 
 against God. I could not bow to that. And so I 
 passed the fiery ordeal, and have come out through 
 a more than human strength, I trust, a better man. 
 No, no, no, my friend. I am not ruined. I have 
 lost my fortune, but not my integrity." 
 
 And so the man stood firm. It was not in the 
 power of any commercial disaster to ruin him. 
 The storm raged furiously ; the waves beat madly 
 against him ; but he stood immovable, for his feet 
 were upon solid rock.
 
 PROVIDENCE. 311 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 PKOYEDENCE. 
 
 " IT is very dark, but I am trying to put my 
 trust in Providence," said a merchant, as he sat 
 one evening in conversation with the minister oi 
 his church, who had called to spend in an hour with 
 him. " Men are falling around me, like soldiers in 
 battle ; yet I am still on my feet, moving forwards, 
 though not seeing the way clear before me for a 
 single week. The Lord has helped me hitherto, 
 when the way was as difficult as it is now ; and 
 though I tremble, I still look up in hope." 
 
 The minister listened, but did not answer at 
 once. He saw that in the mind of his parishioner 
 God's providence went scarcely beyond the things 
 of natural life. 
 
 " God is an infinite and eternal being, Mr. 
 Harding," he said, letting his voice dwell, as he 
 Bpoke, on the words " infinite" and " eternal."
 
 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN". 
 
 The merchant lifted his eyes to the minister's 
 face, and looked at him earnestly. 
 
 " His ends, therefore, must be infinite and eter 
 nal, and, in no case, limited to time." 
 
 " I am not sure that I take your meaning," saii 
 the merchant, with a half-bewildered air. 
 
 "The providence of God, as I understand it," 
 said the spiritual instructor, "regards, as of first and 
 highest importance, the salvation of our souls from 
 evil, and things temporal as always subordinated. 
 J" prosperity will in any degree help a man towards 
 heaven, or prevent him from sinking to a lower 
 place in hell, then God permits him to prosper in 
 the world; and if adversity is needed for the same 
 purpose, then adversity will come in spite of hu 
 man prudence. It is always man's spiritual good 
 that determines the action of Providence, not his 
 natural enjoyment." 
 
 An expression of blank fear settled in the mer 
 chant's face. This was to him a new and alarming 
 proposition ; for though what is called a pious man, 
 that is one strictly observant of all church ordi 
 nances, and exteriorly devout, his heart was in the 
 good things of this world more than in the heavenly 
 things of the next. He took delight in laying up
 
 PJROVIDENCE. 313 
 
 treasure on the earth ; and spent much care in 
 guarding it from moth, and rust, and thieves. 
 But in the work of laying up treasure for Heaven, 
 he had really accomplished but little ; for his heart 
 was not in this work. There was no genuine love 
 in his Sabbath worship, no spiritual affection in his 
 morning prayers. His religion was a kind of bribe 
 thrown to Heaven ; a concession made for tempo 
 ral security and final safety. No wonder that this 
 new doctrine startled him. 
 
 " If your reading of the doctrine of Providence 
 be correct," said he, after musing for a while, and 
 speaking in a husky tone of voice, "I don't see 
 much to encourage me in this day of sore trouble." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " My spiritual well-being may " 
 
 The merchant paused, unwilling to clothe his 
 thoughts in words. 
 
 "Require the discipline of adversity," said the 
 minister, concluding the sentence for him. 
 
 There was a sign of anguish in the merchant's 
 face of anguish mingled with fear. 
 
 " You bring me no comfort," said he. " This is 
 a hard doctrine." 
 
 " What shall it profit a man if he gain the wholo 
 14
 
 314: STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 world and lose his own soul ?" The minister spoke 
 almost solemnly. 
 
 " I do not want the whole world," answered the 
 merchant, as if pleading for his earthly goods : " I 
 am not covetous for great riches. My heart is not 
 set on gold. I am content with what I have." 
 
 " But would you not be willing to part with all 
 your possessions, if in doing so you could secure 
 eternal felicities ?" asked the minister. 
 
 " I don't see how my being crushed down now, 
 and being overwhelmed.with ruin, is going to ad 
 vance my spiritual welfare," replied the merchant, 
 visibly excited. 
 
 "My dear brother," said the minister, " God's 
 ways are not as our ways. He is infinitely wise 
 and infinitely good, and therefore cannot err nor be 
 unkind. He will permit nothing to happen to you 
 or to me that is not designed to secure in some way 
 our eternal well-being. Let us not be like short 
 sighted and rebellious children, who resist the dis 
 cipline of their wiser parents. All souls are alike 
 precious in his eyes ; and he cares for all with an 
 infinite love. Your neighbor, whose fortunes fell, 
 shattered into a thousand fragments, last week, ia 
 equal with you in the eyes of God ; and he regarded
 
 PROVIDENCE. 315 
 
 him in love when he permitted swift-footed misfor 
 tune to overtake him. Your neighbor, on the 
 other side, fell also ; but he was not without the 
 sphere of Providence, nor was the visitation in 
 anger, but in tenderest mercy. It may be that 
 you will pass safely through; but your standing 
 or falling will depend on the security of your eter 
 nal interest. Whatever is best for the elevation of 
 your soul towards Heaven will occur. Your Father 
 loves you too well to permit temporal and perish 
 ing things to rule over and destroy what is spiritual. 
 Let me pray you to submit yourself, as an obe 
 dient child, to the will of God. "Work faithfully, 
 vigorously; do all in your power, by honorable 
 means, to sustain yourself, and leave the result to 
 Him in whose hands we are as clay in the hands 
 of the potter. Whatever comes will be for the 
 best ; and you will live to see the day when you 
 can look back and bless God even for misfortune, 
 should it shadow your path of life." 
 
 As the minister was retiring, after having in vain 
 striven to lift the merchant's mind upwards into a 
 clear perception of the true doctrine of Providence, 
 the latter said to him, in a depressed tone of voice : 
 
 " You have taken away my confidence. I was
 
 316 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 trusting in Providence, and hoping for a right 
 issue, even in the face of most discouraging signs : 
 I was not faithless, but believing ; now, doubt and 
 gloom overshadow me. My strength is gone. I 
 have no heart to struggle in the meshes that fetter 
 my limbs." 
 
 " There is no night that does not precede a morn 
 ing," replied the minister, as he held the merchant's 
 hand tightly in his own. " In every death is in 
 volved a resurrection. Night shadows the heart 
 with gloomy fears, and death comes with pain. But 
 the morning breaks in joy, and, through the resur 
 rection, we rise into a superior life. Do not shrink, 
 then, from the dark night of misfortune, if it is to 
 come, nor from the death of natural affections ; for 
 without the latter it is impossible for spiritual life 
 to be born." 
 
 Then, with a strong pressure on the merchant's 
 hand, he turned from him and took his way home 
 ward. 
 
 A sleepless night did the merchant pass. It was 
 indeed true that the minister's words had taken 
 away his confidence. He could trust in Providence 
 for natural good no longer. The truth had reached 
 down and taken hold of his convictions. He saw
 
 PROVIDENCE. 317 
 
 that eternal ends were first and highest ; and that 
 Divine Wisdom could not have regard to natural 
 things, except as servants of the spiritual. He 
 saw, too, that, in the eyes of God, he was only his 
 brother's equal; and that all souls were alike 
 precious. 
 
 " Hundreds of men as good as I am, and hun 
 dreds who are far better, have been stricken down 
 in this wide-reaching calamity," he said to himself, 
 as he pondered the new aspect of things ; " and can 
 I say that the same hard discipline is not required 
 for me ? ]STo, no, I cannot I cannot." 
 
 Drearily broke the morning ; and the merchant 
 went forth to his business with a heart heavily 
 oppressed ; for he was not strong enough to accept 
 the higher truth which had forced itself upon his 
 rational convictions. He was not yet willing to 
 give up his natural good, that spiritual life might 
 be born. Reason had become clear, but the heart 
 was weak. There was nothing to encourage him 
 in the business of the day. New failures had taken 
 place, and new losses shaken the house in which 
 he was a partner to the very foundations. The 
 most hopeful of all his partners began to talk de- 
 spondingly.
 
 318 STEPS TOWAEDS HEAVEN. 
 
 Two days more of struggle and loss went by 
 and then the partners met alone, in the evening, at 
 their store, to take counsel of one another, and to 
 ascertain, as accurately as possible, their real con 
 dition and prospects. The issue was of the most 
 disheartening character ; for a hurried examination 
 of their books showed that losses had already swept 
 away their entire capital, and that if the ratio of 
 losses among their entire list of customers was 
 maintained, they would not have assets sufficient 
 to pay forty cents in the dollar of their debts. 
 
 And so that terrible calamity, so dreaded by all 
 honorable men and so hard to accept commercial 
 failure was at the merchant's door, and he saw no 
 way of escape. 
 
 " We may save something from the wreck," sug 
 gested one of the partners. 
 
 "How?" was the eager question. 
 
 The means were proposed by which, in com 
 pounding with creditors, each partner might retain 
 enough to get into business again. 
 
 " We can do it with the greatest ease, and none 
 be the wiser for it," said the partner. " I can't see 
 that we are called upon wholly to beggar our 
 selves. This disaster is not from any fault of our
 
 PROVIDENCE. 319 
 
 own. If we could get in what is due, we could pay 
 dollar for dollar, and have a large surplus. Why, 
 then, should we be made the victims of circum 
 stances? I believe that I am as honest as any 
 man living ; but there are necessities which reach 
 beyond human control." 
 
 Then followed a silent pondering of the plan sug 
 gested ; and then the other partner simply said, 
 
 " It might be done." 
 
 " It can and must be done," said the one who 
 had opened the matter. He spoke with energy. 
 " Desperate diseases require desperate remedies. 
 I, for one, have no notion of being driven to the 
 wall if I can help it ; of tamely submitting, when a 
 manful struggle will save me from total wreck." 
 
 " The plan involves subterfuge," our merchant, 
 the senior partner, remarked. 
 
 There was no reply. 
 
 " And concealment." 
 
 "No great harm in that. "We are not called 
 upon to exhibit every aspect of our affairs to the 
 world," was answered. 
 
 " And mercantile dishonor." 
 
 " You are too scrupulous, sir," replied the advo 
 cate of the plan " altogether too scrupulous. Mer-
 
 320 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN". 
 
 cantile honor may become ideal and heroic. Re 
 member that we owe something to ourselves and 
 to our families. Self-sacrifice is not the genius of 
 to-day. We are not required to throw ourselves 
 under the crushing wheels of every Juggernaut- 
 car a contracted public opinion may send rumbling 
 through our streets. No, no ; it were folly to let 
 events cripple us hopelessly, while there are time 
 and means to avert such a direful calamity. Des 
 perate diseases, as I have said before, require des 
 perate remedies. Let us act promptly, and thus 
 save ourselves from the worst." 
 
 The merchant was tempted by the specious plan, 
 and urged to its adoption by the fearful conse 
 quences that impended. But the temptation proved 
 his quality. 
 
 " There is only one right course for us," he said, 
 in answer to his partner's earnest attempt to draw 
 him over and he spoke in a sad but firm voice 
 " and that is the straightforward, honorable, 
 honest one of making a fair exhibit. Anything 
 short of this may seem to involve a present good ; 
 but, depend upon it, evils worse than we now dread 
 will be sure to meet us in the future, if we yield to 
 dishonest suggestions."
 
 PROVIDENCE. 321 
 
 But the partners were against liim, and the 
 contest proved long and angry. He did not yield, 
 however ; and without unanimous action no scheme 
 of fraud could be consummated 
 
 A little while longer the struggle continued; 
 then the house went down with a crash, and only 
 with their lives, so to speak, did the partners escape 
 from the ruins. Nothing was saved from the 
 wreck of their fortunes. The creditors took every 
 thing, under a general assignment. The senior 
 partner, in whom the highest confidence was 
 placed, they offered to retain, for the purpose of 
 settling up the business under the assignee; and 
 the offer was gladly accepted, as it gave at least a 
 temporary provision for his family. 
 
 Two months after the disastrous event, this con 
 versation took place between the minister and his 
 old parishioner. The minister had called to see 
 him in his humble home. He was met with a 
 Bmile on the paler face of the reduced merchant, 
 and with a warm grasp of his hand. 
 
 " Cast down, but not forsaken," said the minister, 
 with an answering smile, and in a tone of cheerful 
 encouragement, as he returned the earnest pres 
 sure. 
 
 14*
 
 322 STEPS TOWAKDS HEAVEN. 
 
 " No, not forsaken," replied the merchant, with 
 feeling. " Not forsaken, but sustained. I have 
 passed through deep waters ; the floods roared 
 about me; but I was not overwhelmed. I was 
 tried in the furnace, but the fires have not con 
 sumed me. If it is night, the whole firmament is 
 glittering with stars." 
 
 " Were you really Lappier before your misfor 
 tune, than you have been since?" inquired the 
 minister. The merchant was thoughtful for a little 
 while. He then answered 
 
 " It may sound strangely, but I have since had 
 states of mind that were nearer happiness than any 
 thing enjoyed before. I am more tranquil, and 
 patient, and resigned to the will of Providence. I 
 can look deeper into my own heart, and understand 
 its impulses better. My soul more clearly appre 
 ciates the higher value of spiritual and eternal 
 things. Ah, sir, I now see clearly that better truth 
 in regard to Providence, which you so vainly 
 sought to make me comprehend a few short weeks 
 ago. How blind and rebellious I was ! How dim 
 had my vision become, through love of the world. 
 But, God let misfortune fall upon me for my good ; 
 and the hard discipline is doing its work. When
 
 PROVIDENCE. 323 
 
 the crisis came, I found the tempter at hand in my 
 partners, who suggested that we should secure 
 something for ourselves. But, I was able to resist ; 
 arid in the most painful ordeal of my whole life, to 
 maintain an undeviating integrity. How many, 
 many times since, have I thanked God for the 
 strength he gave me in that hour of darkness and 
 sore trial." 
 
 " Then, you are really happier than before," said 
 the minister. 
 
 " I am more peaceful, more trusting, more desi 
 rous of spiritual attainments." 
 
 "If more peaceful, then happier. God has 
 permitted these natural misfortunes to come in 
 blessing, not in wrath. And^ whenever prosperity 
 can be given without danger to your soul, it will 
 come again. Our Heavenly Father gives to his 
 children of natural good, all that they can receive 
 without endangering their eternal welfare, and 
 takes it from them, whenever the discipline of 
 adversity is needed." 
 
 " It is plain to me, now, that. T needed the disci 
 pline," said the merchant. " "Without it, I never 
 could have risen into my present views of provi- 
 dence never could have seen, I fear, that all
 
 324: STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 natural events are but a series of effects bearing 
 upon spiritual and eternal things as ends in the 
 Divine economy. And without such a perception, 
 what dark, ignorant, groping creatures we are. 
 How full of mystery is everything around us. How 
 shadowed by doubts and vague questionings the 
 uncertain way we tread with halting feet." 
 
 " Enough," said the minister. " The lesson God 
 designed to teach, you have quickly learned. Ad 
 versity has come as a priceless blessing ; for you 
 have exchanged gold for spiritual wisdom the 
 excitement of natural life, for heavenly tranquillity 
 a restless love of gain for divine repose. Ah, my 
 brother; our Father in Heaven is better to his 
 children than all their fears."
 
 THE WAGES OF THE POOB. 325 
 
 XXX. 
 
 THE WAGES OF THE POOE. 
 
 " How much is it ?" asked the lady, as she drew 
 out her purse, and poured from it into her hand a 
 little pile of silver coins. Before her stood a pale, 
 poorly-dressed, weary-looking woman. 
 
 " Seventy-five cents, ma'am," was answered. 
 
 " Seventy-five cents !" the lady's voice expressed 
 surprise. " No, no, Mary ; I can't give that price 
 for three quarters of a day's work. You did not 
 come until after nine o'clock, remember. If you 
 want full wages, you must do full work. Sixty- 
 two is all that I can give you." 
 
 "I'll have to take it, then," said the woman, 
 rather sadly. " My little Eddy was sick, and I 
 couldn't get away as early as I wanted to this 
 morning ; but I have worked hard all day to make 
 up. I think I have earned it."
 
 326 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 " No doubt of that in the world, Mary," broke 
 out the cheerful voice of the lady's husband, who 
 was sitting in the room ; " and here's twenty-five 
 cents extra to my wife's sixty-two. She's a pru 
 dent woman, and tries to be careful of my money ; 
 but she's over particular to-night, it strikes me. 
 Buy Eddy something that he will like, as you go 
 home, out of the odd shilling, and say that I sent 
 it to him." 
 
 " Oh, thank you I thank you, sir !" exclaimed 
 the poor working woman, a sudden light breaking 
 over her face. " You are very good !" 
 
 Then she retired, and husband and wife were 
 left alone. 
 
 " That wasn't just right, Mr. Lawson," said the 
 lady, speaking seriously. 
 
 "I know it wasn't, and therefore I corrected 
 your error at once," replied Mr. Lawson, as coolly 
 as if he had not really understood the meaning of 
 his wife's remark. 
 
 " It wasn't right, I mean, for you to interfere as 
 you did just now. What's the use of my trying to 
 be economical if you circumvent me in this way ? 
 Mary was not entitled to full day's wages." 
 
 " I think she was," said the husband.
 
 THE WAGES OF THE POOR. 327 
 
 " How will you make that out ? Let me see 
 your calculation." 
 
 " I can make it out in several ways ; can give 
 you tlie figures, and prove the sum. First, then, 
 she alleges that she worked hard all day to make 
 up, and thinks she really earned a full day's wages. 
 There's the sum worked out clearly. Now, as to 
 proof of the result, I would first offer humanity ; 
 next, the woman's loss of strength in a day's hard 
 toil, for she looked so pale and weary that the very 
 sight of her gave me pain ; next, her poverty ; for 
 the mother of three children, who goes out to do 
 washing and house-cleaning in order to get bread 
 for them, must be very poor; next, a sick child, 
 who may need medicine, or some daintier food 
 than usual. Do you want further proof that she 
 was entitled to receive full pay for a day's work ?" 
 
 There was a change in the countenance of Mrs. 
 Lawson before her husband had finished these sen 
 tences. 
 
 "Perhaps you are right," she said. "These 
 poor women do work very hard for what they get, 
 a.nd I often feel sorry for them. I'm glad, at least, 
 that you gave Mary the extra quarter. Still, Mr. 
 Lawson, we cannot afford to overpay people who
 
 328 STEPS TOWAKDS HEAVEN. 
 
 work for us if they are poor. A shilling here, and 
 a shilling there, repeated over and over again, 
 daily, will amount to a serious item in the year 
 and, when the shillings are not really earned, wil 
 prove, in most cases, but incentives to idleness." 
 
 " The other side of the case, my dear," answered 
 Mr. Lawson, " and very well stated. But let us be 
 careful in our transactions with these poor people, 
 that we do not withhold the shilling actually due 
 in our over-nice calculations as to the time they 
 may be in our service. At best, their labor is 
 poorly compensated. They toil hard, very hard, 
 for the small sum they ask for services rendered; 
 and we can always better afford to give ten extra 
 shillings in a week than they can afford to lose 
 one. Let us not increase our comforts, or add to 
 our possessions, at their cost ; but let them be ra 
 ther objects of our care, sympathy, and protection. 
 The Psalmist says : ' Blessed is he that considereth 
 the poor; the Lord will deliver him in time of 
 trouble.' There is a vast deal more to gain than to 
 lose, I take it, in concessions to these humbler 
 children of our common Father." 
 
 "Mrs. Lawson sighed as her husband ceased 
 speaking. His words brought oat from her
 
 THE WAGES OF THE POOE. 329 
 
 memory more than a single instance where she 
 had paid to the extremely poor, who rendered her 
 service for hire, less than the price demanded, 
 under the allegation of an excessive charge for 
 work. In her over-carefulness about what was her 
 own, she had withheld pennies, sixpences, and shil 
 lings, which really added nothing to her comforts, 
 but diminished the comforts of the poor. Coming 
 back upon her now, these memories troubled her. 
 
 " I am afraid," she remarked, looking with a 
 sober aspect, into her husband's face, " that I have 
 not been altogether just in these matters. But you 
 have set me right. I will try to be more consider 
 ate and more humane in future. I did not, really, 
 perceive the meaning of what Mary said about 
 having worked hard all day to make up for loss 
 of time, nor feel the allusion to the sick child, or I 
 could not have had the heart to withhold that shil 
 ling. Our very thoughtlessness sometimes leads us 
 into wrong." 
 
 " There is, as a general thing,'' remarked Mr. 
 Lawson, " a disposition to reduce still lower than 
 their present low rate, the wages of the extremely 
 poor, especially the poor who earn their living 
 among housekeepers. The seamstress, the washer-
 
 330 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 woman, and the day's-work woman, all have to toil 
 very hard for their meagre wages ; and the dispo 
 sition is to take off the sixpences and the shillings 
 whenever there is an excuse for doing so, instead 
 of a generous concession in their favor. I remem 
 ber an instance of this kind which happened to fall 
 under my observation some years ago. A lady 
 was quite indignant at what she was pleased to 
 call an attempt at extortion on the part of a poor 
 woman, who had been cleaning house for her, in 
 charging her sixty-two cents a-day, instead of fifty. 
 The poor woman said that she always received 
 sixty-two cents, and the lady declared that she 
 never paid but fifty cents, and would not exceed 
 that sum in the present case. And fifty cents was 
 all she did pay. I noticed the dejection of the 
 poor, wronged creature, as she retired from the 
 house, and could not but feel a sense of indigna 
 tion, which was in no degree lessened when I saw 
 the lady hand the shilling she had gained by op 
 pression to an idle daughter, and heard her say, 
 ' Here, Jenny, is a shilling I have saved. You can 
 treat yourself to an ice cream to-morrow !' " 
 
 "Are you really in earnest?" said Mrs. Lawson, 
 looking at her husband with a doubting air.
 
 THE WAGES OF THE TOOK. 331 
 
 " What I have told you is literally true." 
 
 " Doesn't it seem impossible ?" 
 
 " It is wicked and disgraceful. But such things 
 are of daily occurrence," replied Mr. Lawson. 
 " There is a better way, however, and a more 
 Christian spirit. Let us walk in this way ; let us 
 encourage this spirit. If we change the wages of 
 the poor in anything, let it be to increase, not 
 diminish them ; for Heaven knows they have been 
 reduced enough already 1"
 
 332 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 THE DKEAM-WAKNING. 
 
 " WILL you discount this note for me ?" 
 
 The question was asked by a merchant, in the 
 office of a private banker, a man of large fortune, 
 who had retired from business, and now used his 
 capital for discounting instead of in trade. 
 
 The shrewd money-lender took the note, and 
 after examining the face, handed it back, with a 
 shake of the head, and a very firm compression 
 of his mouth. 
 
 " It is A number one," said the merchant, with 
 almost an amused smile, at the severe prudence of 
 the money-lender. 
 
 " I have no question as to that," was replied. 
 " If I were in business, I should not hesitate to 
 sell the firm to any reasonable extent." 
 
 " Why, then, will you not buy their note ?" 
 
 A pleasant light came into the money-lender's
 
 THE DREAM WARNING. 333 
 
 face. He looked shrewd, knowing, and very 
 self-complacent. 
 
 " I was in market the other day," said he, " and 
 as I stood buying some fruit at a woman's stall, a 
 man, in going "by, was crowded against a basket 
 standing thereon, which fell to the pavement. It 
 was nearly filled with eggs, more than two-thirds 
 of which were broken. * Ah, my good woman,' 
 said I, 'the old error of too many eggs in one 
 basket. If you had placed them in two or three 
 baskets, instead of one, this general wreck would 
 never have occurred.' In my business, sir," con 
 tinued the money-lender, " I never commit the 
 error of this market-woman. I never place too 
 many eggs in one basket. Do you understand 
 me?" 
 
 " I believe so," replied the merchant. " You 
 already have enough of this paper." 
 
 " Just as much as I intend buying. When 
 some of it is taken up, I will make room for 
 more. There are fixed laws, sir, that govern me 
 in this business, and I never depart from them. 
 
 " Good morning," said the merchant, smiling. 
 "I hope you will never get too many eggs in 
 one basket."
 
 334: STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 "No fear of that. If a basket is npset, and 
 the eggs in it broken, I shall be able to bear 
 the loss." 
 
 The merchant withdrew, and the money-lender 
 turned over in his mind the word just spoken, and 
 felt self-complimented at his wise caution. " "No 
 no" he repeated over and over again. "They 
 cannot tempt me to place too many eggs in one 
 basket. I am too old and prudent for that." 
 
 This figure of speech seemed to please the 
 money-lender, and he used it a number of times 
 during the day, in declining good business paper 
 that was offered. 
 
 " Have I put too many eggs in one basket, 
 to-day?" he asked of himself, as he sat alone 
 during the evening that followed, counting up, 
 mentally, his gains, and looking with a feeling of 
 pleasure, at the unusually large aggregate. " Let 
 
 me see ? That last note of L & O 's came 
 
 very near to a violation of the rule. There are 
 quite enough eggs in that basket. I must not 
 venture another one. But the temptation of two 
 per cent, was hardly to be resisted on such paper, 
 which all regard as gilt-edged." 
 
 It was now over five years since our money-
 
 THE DREAM-WARNING. 335 
 
 lender withdrew from productive trade, and nar 
 rowed down his intellect and his efforts to the 
 simple business of buying paper, which the holders 
 were unable to get done in bank. During that 
 period he had added largely to his wealth ; while 
 his desire for accumulation had grown stronger, 
 and manifested itself in a more eager reaching out 
 after, and drawing in of the gold that perishes. 
 As a merchant, he had been liberal, generous, kind- 
 hearted ; and all men spoke of him as such. But 
 the work of mere money-getting, outside of any 
 productive use in society, had brought the interiors 
 of his mind into new associations ; and his heart 
 was steadily hardening. Every day the circle of 
 his thoughts narrowed itself; every day his heart 
 stooped lower and lower in adoration before the 
 miser's god. Others saw the change spoke of it, 
 and regretted it. But, as he grew richer and 
 richer, and the worshippers of riches bent to him 
 in flattery, he imagined himself to be growing 
 better. 
 
 " Too many eggs in one basket," he repeated to 
 himself, as he sat musing in his luxurious easy- 
 chair ; never for once thinking of the young mer 
 chant, without bank credit, more than two-thirds
 
 336 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 of whose profits on a sale of five hundred dollars 
 he had clipped off a six months' note that day ; 
 a note as good as any he had bought during the 
 past week. 
 
 " Too many eggs in one basket ! No no. I 
 am too shrewd for that !" Drowsily was this 
 murmured, as he laid his head back among the 
 cushions. His next consciousness was in another 
 world. He dreamed that he had passed through 
 the dark portal of eternity, and that to him the 
 judgment from the Book of his Life had come 
 a judgment that was to reveal his true state, and 
 fix his everlasting habitation with those who loved 
 the neighbor as themselves; or with those who 
 loved and cared only for themselves. He did not 
 find himself in the presence of an august, Divine 
 Judge, but in a large chamber, with translucent 
 walls and ceiling, where were gathered a small 
 assemblage of people, to the centre of which he 
 was led by one who seemed to possess a singular 
 power over him. Here, seated, and a little ele 
 vated above the rest, were two beings one with 
 a countenance of heavenly beauty, and the other 
 with a face the cruel expression of which caused a 
 shudder to go thrilling to his heart. A book lay
 
 THE DREAM- WARNING. 337 
 
 open before them, and he knew it to be the Book 
 of his Life, wherein were written every purpose 
 of his heart, with every act and deed. The money 
 lender had come to judgment. 
 
 With a hopeful countenance the angel began 
 turning the leaves of the book, upon which both 
 her eyes, and that of the demon were fixed with 
 an earnest gaze. The period of childhood showed 
 a fair and hopeful record. The tender, merciful, 
 loving impressions made upon the heart of her 
 child by a wise and good mother, who looked for 
 ward to a meeting with her son in heaven, were 
 everywhere visible. The budding soil gave a fair 
 promise for the fruit and flower. 
 
 Early manhood's record was also full of encour 
 agement. There was an eager looking forwards 
 into life, and an earnest will towards success. But, 
 united with this, were generous purposes towards 
 others, and great humanitary schemes to be 
 wrought out for the world's good, when the money- 
 power to work should come within his grasp. 
 There were light and hope in the angel's face, as 
 page after page of the book was turned ; while the 
 demon sat dark and scowling. 
 
 The middle period showed less fairly, as to the 
 
 15
 
 338 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 ends of life and it was into these that the angel 
 and the demon looked most narrowly. The act was 
 never judged of as it stood alone it was by the 
 motive that its quality was determined. 
 
 A gentle sadness began to shadow the angel's 
 beautiful countenance, while dimly seen in the 
 demon's face was the light of triumph. Many acts 
 of benevolence ; many words of good counsel to 
 others ; many declarations of noble, generous, un 
 selfish purposes were written down ; but they were 
 seen as deeds with selfish ends for prompters, and 
 words that were only from the " teeth outwards." 
 More and more, as wealth rolled into the mer 
 chant's coffers, and he gained a higher and higher 
 place in the good opinions of men, did he bury his 
 thoughts in selfish purposes, and put forth his 
 strength for himself alone, as if he were the chief est 
 thing in God's creation. His name was on the 
 subscription papers, for charitable uses, to a large 
 amount ; but, when the angel and the demon went 
 behind the record, what did they find ? A generous 
 desire to benefit the suffering, or help the weak ? 
 Alas, no ! They saw, instead, an extorted benevo 
 lence, in most instances, done for the eyes of men, 
 and succeeded by a self-complacent gratulation, in
 
 THE DKEAM-WAKNTNG. 339 
 
 the loss of so much of his dearly-loved gains, fjmt 
 " charity covers a multitude of sins !" 
 
 Sadder and sadder grew the angel's face; 
 brighter and brighter, with an evil triumph, the 
 face of the demon. 
 
 At last came the closing years of life, when the 
 useful merchant sunk down into the eager money 
 lender. Previous to this, gleams of better purposes 
 would sometimes throw a hopeful warmth over a 
 page, and lighten the saddening angel's face. But 
 the record now had in it little of variation, and no 
 passages of light. Desire moved on in an even 
 current, and thought had free course under the 
 pressure of desire. There was the one desire to 
 get money, and the one thought about the surest 
 means. The face of a man the form of a man 
 the step of a man but quickened his avaricious 
 impulses. He was a great tumor, absorbing the 
 rich blood of trade, and growing larger and larger, 
 as healthy, working organs in the man of society 
 became weaker from impaired vitality. Gold had 
 become the god before whom he bowed down in 
 daily adoration. He loved naught else; and 
 though, from a lingering desire to appear well in 
 the eyes of his fellow-men, he still performed some
 
 340 STEPS TOWARPS HEAVEN. 
 
 apparent good acts ; yet, in every such act, there 
 was the effort to compass a worldly advantage that 
 marred the record in his book of life. Thus, for 
 instance, he had given liberally to the erection of 
 churches, but only when they were to be located 
 near his property, the value of which would be 
 improved thereby far beyond the sum of his sub 
 scription. 
 
 As the last page of the book was turned, the 
 angel breathed a deep sigh, and faded from the 
 money-lender's vision ! 
 
 "Too many eggs in one basket!" said the 
 demon, in a voice of triumph, as he bent his 
 malignant face so close that his hot breath almost 
 suffocated the terrified money-lender, who started 
 into wakeful life as he felt himself clutched by 
 tita demon's vice-like hands. Some moments 
 passed before his wildly-throbbing heart calmed 
 itself down to its wonted even pulsations. 
 
 " Only a dream a foolish dream !" he said to 
 himself, as he vainly tried to rise above the 
 depressed state of feeling which the mercifully 
 sent vision had left behind. 
 
 But conscience told him that it was more than a 
 Iream, and that, while in all worldly prudence he
 
 THE DKEAM-WAKOTNG. 341 
 
 was wisely careful not to get too many eggs in a 
 single basket, in matters of eternal interest he had 
 one basket only, and in that the price of his soul 
 was resting. He shuddered as the thought fixed 
 his mind, and overwhelmed all his convictions. 
 
 " What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole 
 world and lose his own soul ? or what will a man 
 give in exchange for his soul ?" 
 
 It seemed like the voice of his mother, speaking 
 back to him from the years of childhood. 
 
 " God help me !" he said, with a shudder. " I 
 am not in the right path !" 
 
 Did he go back to his eager money-getting and 
 money-lending? "We know not. The dream was 
 sent in mercy, and let us hope that it wrought F pon 
 him its high and holy mission.
 
 342 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 XXXII. 
 IN THE WORKSHOP. 
 
 " You are not going to put in that piece of wood, 
 .Richard," said one workman to another. 
 
 " Yes, I am. No one will be the wiser for it," 
 was answered. 
 
 " But some one may be wronged by it." 
 
 "No very serious wrong. The worst that can 
 happen will be a rickety drawer." 
 
 " But, Richard, if you will take the trouble to go 
 up into the third story, and select a better seasoned 
 piece of wood, you will then be able to furnish a 
 drawer that will always run smoothly." 
 
 "I am not going to take that trouble. Mrs. 
 Thompson would be very far from putting herself 
 out as much for me." 
 
 " It doesn't strike me that you have anything to 
 do with Mrs. Thompson's disposition towards you 
 in the case. It is a simple question of right and
 
 IN THE WORKSHOP. 343 
 
 wrong. You are at work on a bureau, for which 
 she has agreed to pay our employer a certain price. 
 The understanding is, of course, that the wood and 
 workmanship are to be of good quality. Now, 
 if you put in that piece of wood, you will wrong 
 both Mrs. Thompson and our employer. She will 
 receive a defective, troublesome article, and he 
 will be injured in his business for Mrs. Thompson 
 would hardly engage him to make another piece 
 of furniture after finding herself deceived. Your 
 doing this thing, Richard, is, according to my 
 notion, a violation of Christian charity." 
 
 " I don't see that Christian charity has anything 
 to do in the matter. Mrs. Thompson crowded 
 down in the price, and I am not too well paid 
 for my part of the work. So, you see, I can't 
 afford to be hunting about after seasoned wood. 
 This piece comes nicely to my hand, and I am 
 going to use it." 
 
 " I have nothing more to say," replied the fel 
 low-workman, " except to repeat my judgment 
 of your act, and call it a violation of Christian 
 charity. Our praying, singing, and BiblQ-reading, 
 Richard, will not help us heavenwards unless WG 
 are just between man and man. The Christian
 
 344 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 profession is nothing without the Christian life. 
 Our religion, in order to change us radically, must 
 descend into all our commonest duties. It belongs 
 as much to the shop as to the family, and as much 
 to the family as to the sanctuary. If you put in 
 that piece of wood, knowing, as you do, that it will 
 render the bureau you are making permanently 
 defective, you will hurt your own soul." 
 
 " Don't trouble yourself about my soul," was the 
 rather short reply. " I will take good care of that. 
 If you hadn't said so much about it magnifying a 
 molehill into a mountain I might have selected a 
 better piece of wood ; but this shall go in now. I'll 
 risk the consequences." 
 
 " The risk may be greater than you imagine. It 
 generally is in all such cases," was the grave reply. 
 
 And here the remonstrance closed. Richard 
 Wheeler, the journeyman cabinet-maker, worked 
 in the unseasoned piece of wood, and went on to 
 finish the bureau, which was sent home at the time 
 agreed upon, and the price paid. We do not know 
 whether the suggestions of his fellow-workman 
 remained, with him or not, or whether the unsea 
 soned piece of wood troubled, in any wise, his 
 conscience.
 
 IN THE WORKSHOP. 3i5 
 
 Time passed on. The bureau, which had been 
 placed in the chamber of Mrs. Thompson, gave 
 good satisfaction for a time; but the unseasoned 
 piece of wood failed at length to do its proper 
 duty, and the drawer began halting in its work. 
 The disproportionate shrinkage of one side of the 
 drawer bent all the parts out of line, and so the 
 opening and closing thereof was always attended 
 with more or less difficulty. 
 
 Kichard, the journeyman who made the bureau, 
 was in the wareroom one day, when Mrs. Thomp 
 son came in, and, with some warmth of manner, 
 said to his employer 
 
 " I don't think you have dealt fairly by me in 
 that bureau, Mr. Cartwright." 
 
 "Rather a grave charge, Mrs. Thompson," 
 replied the cabinet-maker. " Why do you say so?" 
 
 " You hav'n't made it of properly seasoned 
 wood, a thing for which I particularly stipulated," 
 said the lady. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, madam " Mr. Cartwright 
 spoke with visible indignation "the wood was 
 properly seasoned." 
 
 " And I say that it was not,." Mrs. Thompson 
 was growing excited. " Why, there's one drawer 
 
 15*
 
 316 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 % 
 
 in particular so all awry from shrinkage in some 
 parts of it that it requires more humoring to get it 
 in and out than I have the patience to give. I'm 
 tempted some days to have the whole thing 
 pitched into the street. It would be a disgrace to 
 the poorest cabinet-tmaker in the city !" 
 
 This was rather more than Mr. Cartwright could 
 bear. He lost temper entirely, and gave Mrs. 
 Thompson so bluff a reply, that she went off in a 
 passion, threatening, as she did so, to warn all 
 her friends against the cabinet-maker's establish 
 ment. 
 
 " Richard made a hasty retreat from the ware- 
 room to the workshop. His state of mind was not 
 one to be envied. Here was the evil fruit of his 
 wrong act ; and what a monstrous production from 
 BO small a seed ! He had not only been unjust to 
 Mrs. Thompson, but had seriously injured his em 
 ployer; for it was plain, that custom would be 
 diverted from his establishment through his im 
 proper act. 
 
 The journeyman carried a sober heart home 
 with him at the close of that day. His fellow- 
 workman, the one who had remonstrated with him 
 tobout putting into the bureau drawer an unsea-
 
 IN THE WORKSHOP. 347 
 
 Boned piece of wood, called for him after supper to 
 go with him to a religious meeting ; but Richard 
 declined. For the first time, he saw clearly the 
 want of agreement between his conduct, in this 
 particular, and that which was demanded by the 
 divine law of justice from man to man. 
 
 " Come !" urged his fellow-workman. 
 
 But Richard said, " ~No, not to-night," in such a 
 resolute way, that he was left to himself. He 
 passed the evening in a very unhappy frame of 
 mind. 
 
 On the next Sunday, he attended church as 
 usual. He was still troubled in his thoughts by 
 what had occurred. Singularly enough, it seemed 
 to him, that almost every sentence spoken by the 
 preacher had a more or less remote application to 
 himself. Every proposition was a mirror in which 
 he could see his own distorted image. But the 
 closing portions of the sermon, when the preacher 
 gathered his generalities together, and condensed 
 them into specific applications, smote him with 
 humiliating convictions of wrong. 
 
 " No man can be a Christian," said the minister 
 " who is not faithful in his common, daily-life pur 
 suits. The judge must administer justice from
 
 348 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 equity, and not from favor or the lure of bribes ; 
 the physician must regard the* life and health of 
 his patient above all other considerations ; the 
 merchant must deal justly, and the mechanic exe 
 cute his work in all things faithfully. It will not 
 answer to disregard these things. My brother " 
 and the minister warmed in his manner, as he 
 leaned over the pulpit and looked, as it seemed, 
 to Richard, directly into the pew where he 
 sat " do not hope to reach heaven by the old 
 way. You must walk in another, and narrower, 
 road. Let us suppose you are a workman. Now, 
 what is Christianity in the workshop ? You must 
 take it with you there, remember. You cannot 
 leave it behind you, go where you will ; for it is no 
 loosely-fitting garment, but an element of life. Yes, 
 you must take it with you into the workshop, my 
 brother. Not as the Bible, in your hand ; nor as 
 hymns, to make the air melodious; nor as pious 
 talk with fellow-workmen. No, no. Workshop 
 Christianity consists in a religious fidelity to your 
 employer and his customers. If you neglect or 
 slight the work you are paid to perform, you com 
 mit sin: you are irreligious, and your pious acts 
 will go for nothing."
 
 IN THE WORKSHOP. 349 
 
 What further the preacher said, Richard knew 
 not. He passed, in his application, to the trader, 
 manufacturer, and the various professions in life ; 
 but his thought was bound by the artisan's duty. 
 
 " A sad thing happened this morning," said 
 Richard's wife, on his returning from work one 
 day in the following week. " Mrs. Thompson 
 broke a blood-vessel, and now lies very ill. The 
 doctors have but little hope of her -recovery." 
 
 " How did that happen ?" asked the mechanic, 
 with a sudden sense of uneasiness. 
 
 " She was trying to push in a drawer that didn't 
 run smoothly, when it caught, and the jar, I 
 believe, caused the blood-vessel to break. It was 
 a bureau drawer. What's the matter, Richard? 
 You look pale. Are you sick 3" 
 
 His wife spoke these last sentences in a tone of 
 anxiety. 
 
 " I don't feel very well," he answered ; " but it's 
 nothing of consequence. Did you say that she 
 was thought to be in danger ?" 
 
 " Yes. She lies very low." 
 
 Richard turned his face away. When supper 
 was placed before him, he tried to eat, in order 
 iliat his wife might not see how deeply he was
 
 350 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 troubled; but only a few mouthfuls passed his 
 lips. Silent, and apart from the family, he sat 
 during the evening ; and the night which followed 
 was, for the most part, sleepless. 
 
 On his way to work next morning, Richard 
 went past the dwelling of Mrs. Thompson. He 
 almost feared to look at the house when he came 
 in sight, lest death-signs on the door should give 
 the fatal intelligence of her dissolution. He 
 breathed more freely when he saw that all re 
 mained as usual. So anxious was he, that he 
 stopped and made inquiry as to her condition. 
 
 " Something better." How the words made his 
 heart leap. 
 
 " Is she out of danger ?" he asked, almost trem 
 blingly. 
 
 " Oh, no ; but the doctor speaks encouragingly." 
 
 Richard went on his way. At night, as he re 
 turned homewards, he called to inquire again. 
 
 " She is no worse." This was all the comfort he 
 received; and on this he passed another restless 
 night. 
 
 "If she dies, am I not her murderer?" This 
 was the thought that troubled him so deeply, and 
 made him so anxious about the life of Mrs. Thomp
 
 IN THE WORKSHOP. 351 
 
 son. It was more than a week before all danger 
 seemed passed ; and then the unhappy workman 
 breathed more freely. How the thin, white face, 
 and feeble steps, of Mrs. Thompson rebnked him, a 
 month afterwards, as he met her one day in the 
 street ! He could not rest after that, until he had 
 obtained possession of the bureau drawer, and 
 adjusted it so accurately to its place, that it might 
 be moved in and out by the hand of a child. In 
 doing this, he took care to remove the defective 
 piece of wood. 
 
 " Why have you done this ?" It was the sud 
 den question of Mrs. Thompson, as Richard, having 
 made all right, was about leaving the house. 
 
 He was confused. 
 
 " I did not send for you to do this." 
 
 The dark eyes of Mrs. Thompson looked out 
 from their hoi ow sockets upon the almost startled 
 workman. 
 
 " There was an unseasoned piece of wood in that 
 drawer," said Richard, speaking with as much 
 calmness as he could assume. " I wrongly placed 
 it there, and I alone am to blame. Mr. Cartwright 
 believed that every part of the work was of sea 
 soned wood, according to agreement. He never
 
 352 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 meant to wrong you. He is an honest man. Oh, 
 ma'am! if you can forgive me, do so; for, since 
 the accident to yourself, I have been one of the 
 most wretched of men." 
 
 " I can do no less than forgive," answered the 
 lady, gravely ; " and I hope God will forgive also ; 
 for you have been the agent of a great wrong." 
 
 The journeyman cabinet-maker retired, with a 
 lesson in his heart that it was impossible ever to 
 forget. After that, he tried to bring his religion 
 into the workshop; and he was successful in a 
 good degree. It was then, and not till then, that he 
 began really moving heavenwards. Before, he de 
 pended on states of feeling ; but now on just acts 
 to his neighbor, grounded on a religious principle
 
 THE TWO riCTUKES 353 
 
 XXXIII. 
 THE TWO PICTUKES. 
 
 " How beautiful 1" And the two men paused 
 before the window of a print-seller. 
 
 The picture which had called forth from one 
 of the men this admiring exclamation, was a 
 showy bit of landscape, painted for eifect, and well 
 calculated to deceive an unpractised eye. 
 
 " I must inquire the price," said the speaker, 
 whose name was Godwyn, and he drew his com 
 panion into the store. 
 
 " What do you ask for that landscape in the 
 window ?" 
 
 " Fifty dollars," replied the picture-seller, " and 
 it's worth a hundred. But the owner wants 
 money, and must sell, even at so great a sacri 
 fice." 
 
 "Who is the artist?" 
 
 A name not familiar to either of the men was
 
 354 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 given. But, as they were only posted up in art- 
 news indifferently well, and did not care to make 
 their ignorance known, no further question was 
 asked. The name was accepted as belonging to 
 an artist of celebrity. 
 
 " I must have that picture, Martin. It is a gem." 
 Godwyn spoke aside to his friend. 
 
 " We have a companion piece by the same 
 artist," said the picture seller, whose ears, all on 
 the alert, had overheard the remark. 
 
 " Indeed ! Let us see the two together." 
 
 The paintings were placed side by side. 
 
 " Charming ! beautiful ! exquisite 1" were the 
 exclamations with which their exhibition was 
 greeted. 
 
 " I will take one of them," said Godwyn. " And 
 you the other." Looking towards liis friend Martin. 
 
 " I don't know about that," answered the latter. 
 " The pictures are certainly very tempting. But I 
 am not just sure that I can spare fifty dollars 
 to-day for an article of simple luxury." 
 
 " They're cheap as dirt," said Godwyn. " Better 
 take one. You'll not have another chance like 
 this soon." 
 
 But Martin hesitated, debating the money-ques-
 
 THE TWO PICTURES. 355 
 
 tion involved, and finally decided to let the com 
 panion-piece remain where it was for the present. 
 Godwyn paid down fifty dollars, and ordered one 
 cf the pictures sent home. 
 
 The two men left the picture dealer's and walked 
 on, Godwyn elated by his purchase, and Martin 
 well satisfied at having successfully resisted the 
 temptation to spend the sum of fifty dollars for a 
 painting, when he had other use for his money. 
 
 " You will regret not having bought that pic 
 ture," said Godwyn. " It is a gem, and is offered 
 at half its value." 
 
 " I love pictures," was answered. " They are to 
 me a source of unalloyed pleasure. But my income 
 is yet too limited to permit an indulgence of this 
 taste. The common wants of life, and the charities 
 which may not be disregarded, keep me without a 
 surplus to expend in the merely ornamental." 
 
 " I am no better off than you are," said Godwyn. 
 " But a portion of my income must go in the direc 
 tion of beauty and ornament. Bare walls are my 
 abhorrence" 
 
 At this moment a cry of warning reached the 
 ears of the two men, and looking forward along 
 the street, they saw a horse, attached to an empty
 
 356 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 wagon, dashing towards them at a frightful speed. 
 A little way in advance stood a cart, backed up to 
 the pavement. Before the owner of this, an Irish 
 man, had time to turn his horse, the runaway was 
 upon him, and one of the shafts striking his poor 
 beast on the head, killed him on the spot. 
 
 " Poor fellow !" said Martin, in a tone of pity, as 
 he heard the Irishman bewail his loss. 
 
 " Come," said Godwyn, drawing upon the arm 
 of his friend. " It's a mercy for the poor, half- 
 starved beast." 
 
 But Martin stood still, and began to ask the 
 Irishman questions. His looks corroborating his 
 replies, satisfied him that the loss he had just met 
 was the loss of means for getting bread for his 
 children. The man was in deep distress. 
 
 " I can't wait here," Godwyn spoke, with some 
 impatience. " Come, or I shall have to leave you. 
 That picture will be home before I get there." 
 
 " Go on, then. I must look a little further into 
 this case," said Martin, quite in earnest. 
 
 " Humph ! You'll have your hands full if you 
 stop to look into every case of this kind." Godwyn 
 spoke a little contemptuously, and then went 
 forwards.
 
 THE TWO PICTDKE8. 357 
 
 " Ah, Martin !" said he, as the latter entered his 
 store about two hours afterwards, " How comes 
 on your Irishman and his dead horse ?" There was 
 an amused expression on his face. 
 
 "Badly enough at present," was answered. 
 " Poor fellow ! The death of his horse is to him 
 indeed a calamity ; like the burning of a mechanic's 
 shop with all his tools ; or the sinking of a mer 
 chant's ship, wherein was all his fortune. But I 
 think we can put him all right with the world 
 again, and at a very small cost to ourselves. I 
 propose that five individuals contribute ten dollars 
 each, and buy him another horse. Here is the list, 
 I have put down my name, and Gregg has fol 
 lowed suit. You will make the third, and I know 
 who to calculate on for the fourth and fifth sub 
 scriptions." 
 
 Martin only partly unfolded his subscription 
 paper, for a strong negative came instantly into 
 the face of Godwyn. 
 
 " I'm too poor to make ten-dollar subscriptions 
 for the purchase of cart-horses for beggarly Irish 
 men," he answered. " If I once undertook that 
 business, I would soon have my hands full. Take 
 my advice, and keep your money, your time, and
 
 358 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 your pleasant feelings, and don't waste either in 
 ihe thankless task of collecting money to pay for 
 dead horses." 
 
 But Martin, though disappointed, was not turned 
 from his good purpose. He succeeded in getting 
 thirty-five dollars subscribed, and then, adding 
 fifteen from his own purse, he went to the humble 
 abode of the poor Irishman, whom he found, half 
 Btupid with despondency, amid his sorrowful wife 
 and children. 
 
 " Come, come, Jimmy Maguire ?" he said, cheer 
 fully, " this will never do. Brighten up, man !" 
 
 " There's no brightening up for me, yer honor," 
 replied Jimmy, sadly. " Poor Bkrny is kilt dead," 
 and he drew his hand across his eyes. " The cart's 
 of no use now, and if I was to die for it, I couldn't 
 find money to buy another horse. Och ! yer honor, 
 and what is to become of us all ?" 
 
 The picture that Martin looked upon in that 
 humble abode lay all in deep shadow. There was 
 not upon it a single gleam of sunshine. 
 
 " What did Barny cost?" 
 
 " I paid thirty-five dollars for him, hard-earned 
 money, and he was chape at that, yer honor." 
 
 " Find another horse as good, or even a little
 
 THE TWO PICTURES. 359 
 
 better than Barny, and I will buy him for you, 
 Jimmy. Some kind gentlemen have placed money 
 in my hands for that purpose." 
 
 Broad dashes of sunlight fell instantly on the 
 living picture, which lay a moment before in 
 deepest shadow. 
 
 " Oh, sir ! Is it indade as you say ?" Jimmy 
 caught the arm of Mr. Martin, and looked into his 
 face almost wildly. 
 
 " Just as I say, Jimmy Maguire. Find the 
 horse, and I will make him yours." 
 
 From the valley of grief and despair to tl o 
 mountain-top of joy, the Irishman's household 
 passed, as by a single -stride. They overwhelmed 
 their benefactor with noisy gratitude, and placed 
 him at once high in the calendar of saints. 
 
 That evening Mr. Godwyn sat alone in his 
 parlor. The picture was on the wall, but his eyes 
 were already more than half satisfied with its 
 beauty, and ceased to turn themselves towards it 
 for pleasure. A friend had been invited home at 
 tea time to look at this picture. He had an artist's 
 eye, and knew a good painting from a bad 
 one. Unfortunately for Mr. Godwyn, he detected 
 glaring faults in the landscape, and did not hesitate
 
 360 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 to pronounce it a fourth-rate affair, and dear at 
 the price which had been paid. Mr. Godwyn was 
 unhappy. 
 
 On the same evening sat Martin alone, gazing 
 at a picture, the sight of which gave him inexpres 
 Bible pleasure. It was not hanging upon the parlor 
 walls, inclosed in gilded frame, but grouped in his 
 thought, and vivid as life itself. "We need not 
 describe this picture. The reader knows that it 
 represented the poor Irishman and his delighted 
 family. Imagination had painted it in richest 
 colorings, and memory was enshrining it in peren 
 nial beauty. There was no power in time to rob 
 that picture of its charming freshness. Its posses 
 sion could not bring a reproving thought ; no critic 
 was skilled enough in art to find a defect, and thus 
 lessen the owner's appreciation. It was worth a 
 thousand such pictures as the one his friend had 
 already ceased to value. 
 
 The lesson, reader, is for us all. 
 
 If we were as ready to hang the chambers of our 
 minds with beautiful pictures, as we are the walls 
 of our houses, what pleasures would we lay up in 
 store for the time to come. As we grow older, we 
 insensibly fall into the habit of looking inwards.
 
 THE TWO PICTURES. 361 
 
 "We see more with the eyes of the mind than we do 
 with the eyes of the body oftener gaze upon the 
 pictures that cluster on memory's walls, than upon 
 those which hang on the walls of our dwellings. 
 Oh ! let us then give beauty and happiness to the 
 future by daily acts of kindness by tender chari 
 ties by deeds of human love. These will group 
 themselves into pictures, upon which, as years glide 
 away, and the eyes look more and more inwards, 
 we shall gaze with purest delight ; for time cannot 
 deface them, neither will familiarity rob them of a 
 living interest. And these are the pictures which 
 are not left hanging upon walls that shall know 
 his presence no more, when a man lays down the 
 burdens of natural life. He takes them with him, 
 as he takes the precious silver of divine truth, and 
 the fine gold of celestial love ; and they will help 
 to make beautiful the mansion prepared for him 
 above. Good deeds are the stepping-stones to 
 heaven. 
 
 16
 
 362 STEPS TOWABDS HEAVEN. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 TEMPTATION. 
 
 " IF it wasn't for temptation," said a young con 
 vert, speaking to one who had been many years 
 trying to walk in the narrow way, " I could get 
 along very well. But the enemy is always taking 
 me at unawares. I start out in the morning, re 
 solved that my walk and conversation shall, in all 
 things, adorn my profession; but ere I am half 
 through the day, temptations assail me, and I 
 fall." 
 
 " I trust not, my young brother," was the gravely 
 spoken reply. "To fall in temptation is a most 
 dreadful thing. Every man who is regenerating 
 falls info temptations. Without them, we could not 
 know the evil qualities of our hearts, nor be able 
 to rise above them into the life of good affections. 
 * Count it all joy,' says the Apostle James, ' when 
 ye fall into divers temptations ; knowing this, that
 
 TEMPTATION. 363 
 
 the trying of your faith worketh patience.' And 
 again, lie says : ' Blessed is the man that endureth 
 temptation.' It is by means of temptations that 
 spiritual life is formed, and through the conflicts 
 that temptations bring that this life gains manly 
 vigor. It is not falling into temptation that 
 harms us, but falling in temptation not the con 
 flict, but the loss in battle. We must conquer, if 
 we would have peace and rest. Can you not see 
 that, my brother ?" 
 
 "I see it,", was answered in a troubled voice. 
 " But your words form themselves into sentences 
 of condemnation. Alas! I fall in every tempta 
 tion." 
 
 " Do not hastily write bitter things against your 
 self," was the encouraging response to this. " Per 
 haps it is not so bad. If you will confide to me a 
 day's experience, perhaps I can give you some 
 aid, and some encouragement," 
 
 " Most gladly ; for I am in need of help. This 
 morning, before I left my room, I prayed most 
 fervently that I might be kept stainless through 
 the day that a guard might be set upon my lips, 
 and that all my actions might do honor to His 
 name. Conscious of my own weakness, I wished
 
 364: STEPS TOWAKD8 HEAVEN. 
 
 to depend on Him solely ; and so prayed, that He 
 would substitute His strength for my weakness. 
 Thus armed, as I thought, I went forth ; but, ere 
 the first hour had passed, I fell. A sudden assault 
 upon my feelings was repelled by sharp words, 
 instead of a meek reply ; and so I dishonored my 
 Lord." 
 
 " Will you state the occasion ?" 
 
 " It happened in this wise. I was attending upon 
 a customer who was captious and troublesome. 
 She annoyed me greatly by some of her remarks. 
 At last she called my word in question, which 
 threw me off my guard, and extorted an angry 
 response. Of course, she got angry in return, and 
 left the store. It made me unhappy for the day. 
 Next, I was betrayed into light and trifling conver 
 sation ; and next, so far forgot myself, as so indulge 
 in evil speaking and uncharitableness. Then I 
 would discover that my thoughts were running on 
 worldly and forbidden things ; and once, I actually 
 caught myself working out a secret scheme for 
 overreaching in trade. I was so shocked at this, 
 that I felt almost like abandoning my Christian 
 profession. Isn't it dreadful to think of ? I believed 
 my heart changed ; but now am sorely afraid that
 
 TEMPTATION. 365 
 
 I am worse instead of better. Oh, these tempta 
 tions ! Why is it that we are subjected to them?" 
 
 "It is by temptation that our evil quality is 
 revealed to us," was mildly answered. " Now, as 
 I regard your experience during the day, I think 
 you have reason to be thankful for the occurrences 
 which have shown you that there are things in 
 your heart which must he removed ere you can 
 advance in the regenerate life ?" 
 
 " But, I fell in temptation," said the young man, 
 in a troubled tone of voice. 
 
 "I am not so sure of that. Temptation is an 
 allurement to sin and sin is some violation of 
 God's law ; and we fall in temptation, when the 
 right and the wrong are both clearly presented to 
 our minds, and in freedom to do the right or the 
 wrong, we do the wrong, because our natural affec 
 tions love it. Now, let us try your actions to-day 
 by this rule. First, as to the angry words to a 
 troublesome customer. "Would you have said them, 
 if you had taken time for reflection ?" 
 
 "No. I was pained the moment I gave them 
 utterance." 
 
 " Enough ; the pain showed the spiritual vitality. 
 If you had felt pleased at having wounded or an-
 
 366 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 noyed the person, the case would have been differ 
 ent; and if you have resolved to be still more 
 guarded in future, the lapse on this occasion is only 
 a stepping-stone, as it were, to better conditions of 
 mind. Both you and the lady, it strikes me, will 
 gain something by the incident. And let me help 
 you to look a little deeper. Which gave you most 
 pain, a consciousness of having wronged the lady, 
 or of appearing unmanly in her eyes ? of having 
 sinned before God, or of having disgraced yourself 
 before men? Get at the truth, if possible." 
 
 The young convert turned his thoughts inwards, 
 in close self-examination. 
 
 " You have helped me to look deeper," he lifted 
 a pair of sober looking eyes to the face of his friend 
 " but I do not like what I see." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " It was not the sin that really troubled me. I 
 thought more of man's estimate than God's." 
 
 " Which was wrong." 
 
 " Oh, yes." 
 
 " So much really gained by this loss of temper 
 Can't you see that the trial was for your good, and 
 the fall, in a sudden assault, ere you had time to 
 buckle on your armor, permitted, in order that you
 
 TEMPTATION. 367 
 
 might be enabled to see deeper into your heart. 
 You are on your feet again, and stronger than 
 before. 
 
 "The next thing complained of, is light and 
 trifling conversation ; and the next, evil speaking ; 
 then your thoughts ran on worldly and forbidden 
 things. Now, as to the light and trifling conver 
 sation, I have only to say, that religion does not bind 
 a man to solemn, speech at all times, and in 
 all places. Pleasant words are not evil, unless they 
 involve some hurtful thing, as what is obscene, 
 wicked, or profane then they have a soul-destroy 
 ing quality. Bring your conversation to this test 
 always. As to the evil speaking, and pondering 
 on forbidden things, they are to be repented of. 
 If the discovery has pained you, that is another 
 advance in the right direction. But, the most 
 serious discovery you have made during the day, 
 is the fact, that dishonesty lurks in your heart. 
 Here was a real temptation, but, thanks be to God, 
 who giveth us the victory, you were able to meet 
 the enemy of your soul on the very threshold, 
 and hurl him back with more than a giant's 
 strength. Now, think for a moment, my young 
 friend, and then say whether the experiences a
 
 868 gTErS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 *tfc 
 
 little while ago complained of so bitterly, are not 
 really the day's stepping-stone towards heaven? 
 Are you not wiser, and stronger than when the 
 morning dawned ? Is not the way plainer ? 
 
 " Temptations help us onwards, if we but over 
 come in them ; because they are revelations of our 
 evil qualities, the existence of which we could not 
 know without them. But if in the strife we fall, 
 then we grow worse instead of better ; then our 
 steps lead downwards instead of upwards. Your 
 morning prayer, to be kept from evil during the 
 day, is well ; but do not let the utterance of this 
 prayer lead you to neglect watchfulness for a sin 
 gle moment. Prayer will not weaken your ene 
 mies, but render them, it may be, more determined 
 and malignant. Watch through all the succeeding 
 hours of the day, and keep your armor tightly 
 girded. Be ready for sudden assault, or stealthy 
 inroad ; and then, as a true Christian warrior, you 
 ehall come off victorious." 
 
 " Thanks ! thanks 1" was the earnest reply. 
 " You have helped me wonderfully. I see clearer, 
 and feel both strength and encouragement. I have 
 not really fallen in temptation, but am stronger 
 for the brief conflicts."
 
 TEMPTATION. ^ 369 
 
 "These," said the more experienced Christian 
 soldier, " are but light skirmishings before the 
 shock of battle. Your real temptations are in the 
 future; but you will not be admitted to these 
 until you have overcome the outposts and van 
 guards of the enemy. Then will come the fiercer 
 struggles and wilder conflicts of the strong man. 
 Now you have' only the child's strength, and none 
 but feebler foes are suifered to approach ; but as 
 you grow up towards the full stature of a Christian 
 hero, the strongest and most malignant enemies of 
 your soul will array themselves, and then you must 
 conquer. Fear not ; for divine courage and divine 
 skill will be yours, if you go bravely into the 
 fight; and when you have conquered, there will 
 be rest and peace. Count it all joy, therefore, 
 when you fall into divers temptations ; for they are 
 the trials of your faith, and the means by which 
 you are enabled to put oif the old man of sin, and 
 to put on the likeness of the new man, Christ 
 Jesus our Lord." 
 
 16*
 
 370 STEPS TOWARDS UEAVEN. 
 
 XXXV. 
 AT HOME. 
 
 A MAN'S " walk and conversation " at home give 
 always the surest test of his profession. At home, 
 few are dissemblers. The real quality manifests 
 itself without disguise. If a man's wife, children, 
 and servants, show no respect for his religious 
 character, you may be pretty sure that he is self- 
 deceived, or a hypocrite. In other words, that he 
 is trying to get to heaven by a mere outside ob 
 servance of pious forms, instead of through a 
 denial of self-love, and the cultivation of heavenly 
 affections. 
 
 Mortimer Grand had a very pious way with 
 him. He was much inclined to conversation on 
 religious subjects; fond of doctrinal discussions, 
 and much concerned about his neighbors' fidelity 
 in spiritual things. Most persons thought him a 
 good man some a very good man ; but the few
 
 AT HOME. 371 
 
 who came in closer contact, and felt the quality of 
 his business life, held rather a different opinion. 
 They saw that he was, for the most part, eagerly 
 bent on securing personal advantage; and this 
 even to the injury of others. 
 
 But it is in his home life that we design testing 
 the religious quality of Mr. Grand. At home, shut 
 out from the world's observation, he could lay off 
 the assumed external, and act in all things just as 
 he felt. If a tyrant in heart, he could act the 
 tyrant ; if impatient at light annoyances, he could 
 be impatient ; if inclined to selfish appropriation, 
 there was none to prevent his doing as he pleased. 
 He could enjoy the luxury of being himself, from 
 inmost affection to uttermost act. 
 
 The day had closed, and in no very good 
 humor for all things had not shaped themselves 
 as natural affections desired Mr. Grand bent his 
 steps homewards. On the way he met a friend. 
 They stopped and exchanged salutations. Mr. 
 Grand's face became almost radiant with smiles 
 as he responded to the remark 
 
 " The good work goes bravely on." 
 
 " Bravely and gloriously !" was his reply. " It 
 is, indeed, a time of refreshing from the hand of
 
 372 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 the Lord. The signs of His presence are every 
 where." 
 
 Then they shook hands witli ardor, and parted. 
 For a little way, the glow of enthusiasm remained 
 with Mr. Grand; then, as home drew near, the 
 warmth of his feelings subsided ; and by the time 
 his feet were crossing his own threshhold, his state 
 was entirely changed. 
 
 " No light in the passage, as usual !" he said, 
 fretfully, as he closed the street door behind him. 
 
 Even as he spoke, the faint, yellow gleam of a 
 match broke suddenly out of the darkness, and in 
 the next moment the strong glare of a gas lamp 
 blazed around him. It was the work of his wife. 
 
 " Humph ! it's always so !" growled Mr. Morti 
 mer Grand. 
 
 " Yes, it is always so," replied Mrs. Grand, her 
 tone of voice in no wise more amiable than that of 
 her husband. 
 
 " What's always so ?" was demanded. 
 
 " Tour temper when you come home." 
 
 This was severe ; and Mr. Grand was irritated, 
 rather than rebuked. So he went stalking up 
 stairs to the sitting-room, and entered among the 
 children like a cloud instead of a sunbeam. There
 
 AT HOME. 373 
 
 was a sudden hushing of voices, and a shrinking 
 away at his approach. In the large cushioned 
 rocking-chair, sat little Frances, whose loving heart 
 was always going out in search of love. She lifted 
 her blue eyes to her father's face, as he approached 
 her, with a half-timid, half-hopeful expression. 
 But he merely swept her from the chair with his 
 hand, and sat down without a gentle word or 
 glance of affection. 
 
 Dear little tender thing ! The roughness and the 
 disappointment were too great for her. Tears 
 came ; sobs convulsed her tiny frame ; and then 
 passionate grief broke in cries upon the air. 
 
 "Take that child from the room!" said Mr. 
 Grand, sternly, as his wife entered. 
 
 "What's the matter with her?" inquired the 
 mother. 
 
 " It's more than I can tell. She's always crying 
 about something. But, I won't have this din about 
 my ears. It's intolerable." 
 
 Mrs. Grand took the child up in her arms, and 
 pressed her head down against her breast, tenderly. 
 
 " What ails you, dear ? Stop crying, and tell 
 me." Mrs. Grand pressed her lips to the ear of 
 her child.
 
 374 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 " Papa." It was all the little mouth could say. 
 
 " Papa, what ?" Whispered the mother. 
 
 " Papa hurt me," was answered, amid quivering 
 sobs. 
 
 And that was just the truth ; and just as the 
 child felt it. She did not mean to convey to her 
 mother any impression beyond the truth. Her 
 little heart was hurt. 
 
 " That is not so !" And Mr. Grand started to 
 his feet. " How dare you tell a lie !" And he 
 moved rapidly across the room. The frightened 
 child shrunk closer to her mother, and hushed her 
 crying. Mr. Grand took hold of her slender arm 
 with the tight grip of passion, and attempted to 
 remove her; but Mrs. Grand would not permit 
 this. She was not going to trust her precious little 
 one to the tender mercies of an angry man, whose 
 hard spirit had bruised hers from the beginning. 
 The result of former contests with his wife, warned 
 Mr. Grand not to persist now ; and so, after scowl 
 ing upon her for some moments, he turned away 
 and went back to his seat in the large rocking- 
 chair, muttering something in an undertone. 
 
 For ten minutes Mr. Grand sat without speaking 
 his chin drawn down upon his breast, and his
 
 AT HOME. 375 
 
 countenance wearing a most repulsiye aspect. 
 Then lie ordered one of the children to be still, in 
 a tone of harsh rebuke. Ten minutes more of 
 moody silence followed. 
 
 " If supper isn't ready soon, I shall go off with 
 out it." Mr. Grand spoke suddenly. 
 
 "You didn't say you were going out." Mrs. 
 Grand arose and moved towards the door of the 
 room. " If you had, I would have hurried tea." 
 
 " Supper ought to have been ready half an hour 
 ago. I've said, a hundred times, that I wished my 
 meals always ready by stroke of the clock." 
 
 Mrs. Grand went down stairs, leading Frances, 
 who kept close to her side. Nearly ten minutes 
 more elapsed, before everything was on the table. 
 Ere half that time had expired, Mr. Grand had 
 commenced walking the floor of the sitting-room 
 with impatient footsteps. 
 
 " Father !" A voice and hand arrested his at 
 tention. 
 
 ""Well, what's wanted?" Mr. Grand stopped 
 and looked down with closer contracting brows. 
 
 "Lend me your knife, father, to sharpen this 
 Btick?" 
 
 " I shall dc no such thing. You broke the last 
 knife I had." And Mr. Grand pushed his little
 
 376 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 son away, who, made angry by the rebuff, crossed 
 the room to where his older brother was writing 
 out an exercise, and from sheer wantonness, bora 
 of bad feelings, pushed his elbow and caused him 
 to spoil half an hour's work. This outrage could 
 not be borne ; the brother turned and struck him 
 in the face. A loud cry followed, when the father, 
 catching up the boy who had dealt the blow, pun 
 ished him with great severity, and then sent him 
 off, supperless to bed. He made no inquiry 
 stopped for no investigation ; but meted out sum 
 mary punishment, because that was in closest 
 agreement with his feelings. 
 
 "When the tea bell rung, at last, he went stalking 
 down stairs, the children following in a wild 
 scramble. 
 
 " Silence !" He demanded in a tone of stern 
 authority, as he sat down to the table. A grace 
 was then said, when, helping himself, Mr. Grand 
 left his wife to help the children. The toast was a 
 little burnt, and he scolded ; his tea wasn't sweet 
 enough, and he called for more sugar, with a 
 frown ; the butter didn't suit his taste, and he 
 spoke so sharply about it to his wife, that tears 
 came into her eyes. After eating, with a good
 
 AT HOME. 377 
 
 appetite, Mr. Grand left the table, saying, as be 
 did so, tbat be was going out and wouldn't be 
 borne until after ten o'clock. 
 
 " Henry !" Mrs. Grand arose from tbe table, 
 and followed ber busband into tbe passage. 
 
 " Well, wbat do you want ?" 
 
 " I wish you could stay home this evening. I 
 was going to ask you, particularly." 
 
 " Stay at home ! What for ?" Mr. Grand knit 
 his very flexible brows, as he always did when not 
 pleased. 
 
 " Edward is not getting on right at school. He 
 hasn't had bis lessons for a week or more, and says 
 he can't learn them. I have tried my best to help 
 him, but the lessons puzzle me. 'Now, Henry, if 
 you would only give him a little time this evening 
 you might save him from discouragement and dis 
 grace at school. He says the teacher keeps him in 
 every day, and threatens severer punishment if be 
 is deficient to-morrow. I promised him that I 
 would speak to you about it." 
 
 " I've punished him, and sent him to bed, for 
 striking his brother," said Mr. Grand. "I don't 
 wonder he isn't getting on right at school if 
 he behaves as badly there as ho does at home.
 
 378 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 The fault, I apprehend, goes deeper than his les 
 sons. I don't believe his teacher is so unreason 
 able as he makes out." 
 
 " But hadn't you better look into the matter ? I 
 think Edward is doing his best. He must have 
 been very much provoked if he struck his brother. 
 He is not troublesome among -the children. I 
 wish you would stay at home to-night and look 
 into this matter of his lessons. If there is any 
 injustice towards him, who but his father is com 
 petent to protect him ?" 
 
 "Oh, as to the injustice, I will take all the 
 risk," replied Mr. Grand, indifferently. 
 
 " Then you won't stay at home ?" 
 
 " I can't. I'm going to a missionary meeting." 
 
 " Missionary meetings may all be well enough," 
 answered the wife, coldly ; " but my opinion is, 
 that your duty to-night is to look after the neg 
 lected heathen of your own home." 
 
 " Mary, I will not suffer this !" Mr. Grand 
 spoke sternly. " I know my duty, and am alone 
 responsible for its performance. I wish you 
 would do yours as well. "We should then have a 
 better regulated household." 
 
 And he went out, shutting the door with a
 
 AT HOME. 379 
 
 heavy jar. Mrs. Grand sighed, as she walked 
 back, with weary steps, to the dining-room, and 
 took up, with a sad heart, the burden of her duties. 
 Mr. Grand went to the meeting, in which he took 
 a prominent part, and came away at its close with 
 pleasant compliments in his ears, and a feeling of 
 self-satisfaction in his heart, in having been an 
 active co-worker in a great scheme of Christian 
 benevolence. 
 
 Of this man's title to the name of Christian, let 
 the reader judge. We have another and sunnier 
 picture to exhibit, and so pass from the contem 
 plation of one that can only excite unpleasant feel 
 ings. True religion always shows itself best at 
 home ; for here disguises are put aside, and the 
 man is seen as he is. 
 
 " I wish father would come home." The voice 
 that said this had a troubled tone, and the face 
 that looked up was sad. 
 
 " Your father will be very angry," said an aunt, 
 who was sitting in the room with a book in her 
 hand. The boy raised himself from the sofa, where 
 he had been lying in tears for half an hour, and, 
 with a touch of indignation in his voice, answered,
 
 380 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 " He'll be sorry, not angry. Father never gets 
 angry." 
 
 For a few moments the aunt looked at the boy 
 half curiously, and let her eyes fall again upon the 
 book that was in her hand. .The boy laid himself 
 down upon the sofa again, and hid his face from 
 eight. 
 
 " That's father now !" He started up, after the 
 lapse of nearly ten minutes, as the sound of a bell 
 reached his ears, and went to the room door. He 
 stood there for a little while, and then came slowly 
 back, saying, with a disappointed air : 
 
 " It isn't father. I wonder what keeps him so 
 late. Oh, I wish he would come home !" 
 
 " You seem anxious to get deeper into trouble," 
 remarked the aunt, who had only been in the 
 house for a week, and who was neither very 
 amiable nor very sympathizing towards children. 
 The boy's fault had provoked her, and she con 
 sidered him a fit subject for punishment." 
 
 "I believe, Aunt Phrebe, that you'd like to see 
 me whipped," said the boy, a little warmly. 
 " But you won't." 
 
 " I must confess," replied Aunt Phoabe, " that I 
 think a little wholesome discipline of the kind you
 
 AT HOME. 381 
 
 speak of would not be out of place. If you were 
 my child, I am very sure you would'nt escape." 
 
 " I'm not your child : I don't want to be. Fa 
 ther's good, and loves me." 
 
 "If your father is so good, and loves you so 
 well, you must be a very ungrateful, or a very 
 inconsiderate boy. His goodness don't seem to 
 have helped you much." 
 
 " Hush, will you !" ejaculated the boy, excited 
 to anger by this imkindness of speech. 
 
 " Phrebe !" It was the boy's mother who spoke 
 now, for the first time. In an under tone, she 
 added : " You are wrong. Richard is suffering 
 quite enough, and you are doing him harm rather 
 than good. 
 
 Again the bell rang, and again the boy left 
 the sofa, and went to the sitting-room door. 
 
 " It's father !" And he went gliding down 
 stairs. . 
 
 " Ah, Richard !" was the kindly greeting, as Mr. 
 Gordon took the hand of his boy. " But what's 
 the matter, my son ? You don't look happy." 
 
 " Won't you come in here ?" And Richard 
 drew his father into the library. Mr. Gordon sat. 
 down, still holding Richard's hand.
 
 382 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 " You are in trouble, my son. What has hap 
 pened ?" 
 
 The eyes of Kichard filled with tears as he 
 looked into his father's face. He tried to answer, 
 but his lips quivered. Then he turned away, and 
 opening the door of a cabinet, brought out the 
 fragments of a broken statuette, which had been 
 Bent home only the day before, and set them on 
 a table before his father, over whose countenance 
 came instantly a shadow of regret. 
 
 " Who did this, my son 2" was asked in an even 
 voice. 
 
 I did it." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " I threw my ball in here, once only once, in 
 forgetf ulness." 
 
 The poor boy's tones were husky and tremulous. 
 
 A little while Mr. Gordon sat, controlling him 
 self, and collecting his disturbed thoughts. Then 
 he said cheerfully 
 
 " What is done, Eichard, can't be helped. Put 
 the broken pieces away. You have had trouble 
 enough about it, I can see and reproof enough for 
 your thoughtlessness so I shall not add a word to 
 increase your pain."
 
 AT HOME. 383 
 
 " Oh, father !" And the boy threw his arms 
 about his fathers neck. " You are so kind so 
 good !" 
 
 Five minutes later, and Eichard entered the 
 sitting-room with his father. Aunt Phoebe looked 
 up for two shadowed faces ; but did not see them. 
 She was puzzled. 
 
 " That was very unfortunate," she said, a little 
 while after Mr. Gordon came in. " It was such an 
 exquisite work of art. Is it hopelessly ruined ?" 
 
 Richard was leaning against his father when his 
 aunt said this. Mr. Gordon only smiled and drew 
 his arm closely around his boy. Mrs. Gordon 
 threw upon her sister a look of warning ; but it 
 was unheeded. 
 
 " I think Eichard was a very naughty boy." 
 
 " We have settled all that, Phoebe," was the 
 mild but firm answer of Mr. Gordon ; " and it is 
 one of our rules to get into the sunshine as quickly 
 as possible." 
 
 Phoebe was rebuked ; while Eichard looked 
 grateful, and, it may be, a little triumphant ; for 
 his aunt had borne down upon him rather too hard 
 for a boy's patience to endure. 
 
 Into the sunshine as quickly as possible ! Oh, is
 
 384: STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 not that the better philosophy for our homes ? Is 
 it not true Christian philosophy ? It is selfishness 
 that grows angry and repels, because a fault has 
 been committed. Let us get the offender into the 
 sunshine as quickly as possible, so that true 
 thoughts and right feelings may grow vigorous in 
 its warmth. "We retain anger, not that anger may 
 act as a wholesome discipline, but because we are 
 unwilling to forgive. Ah, if we were always right 
 with ourselves, we would oftener be right with our 
 children. 
 
 " You will be at the meeting to-night, Marston ?" 
 said a man to his friend. They had stopped at 
 the corner of a street, and were about separat 
 ing. 
 
 " Oh, yes. I wouldn't miss one of these Wed 
 nesday-night meetings on any account. I enjoy 
 them very much; and gain strength for duty. 
 You will be there?" 
 
 " Of course ; nothing but a matter of life and 
 death could keep me away." 
 
 " Good evenjng." 
 
 " Good evening. Come early, Marston." 
 
 And the two men separated. Both had recently
 
 AT HOME. 385 
 
 joined the Church, and both were ardent in their 
 new life, almost to enthusiasm. 
 
 On his arrival at home, Marston found that pre 
 parations for tea were not in a very encouraging 
 state of advancement ; so he said, in a cheerful 
 way to his wife, who was going about with a baby 
 in her arms 
 
 " You must hurry up things a little, Anna. This 
 is "Wednesday night, you know, and I wouldn't fail 
 being at the meeting on any account. Give 
 Maggy to me. There ; now your hands are free. 
 I ought to have come home a little earlier." 
 
 The pale, weary-looking wife, smiled on her hue- 
 band, as she handed him the baby, and said, 
 pleasantly 
 
 " Tou shall not be late, dear. I will soon have 
 all ready. My head has ached badly all the after 
 noon, and this has kept me behindhand. 
 
 " I'm sorry for that, Anna. Does it ache still?" 
 The husband's voice was full of kind interest. 
 
 " Yes ; and I feel unusually weak. The first 
 warm weather of the season, always tries me, you 
 know." 
 
 A shade of concern came over the face of Mr. 
 Marston, as his eyes followed the retiring form <$ 
 It
 
 386 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 his wife. He was an industrious young man, with 
 only a small salary ; and his wife was trying to 
 get along without a domestic. They had two chil 
 dren a little boy four years old, and Maggy, 
 the baby, who had not yet completed her first 
 year. 
 
 In a shorter time than the husband had expected, 
 his wife's pleasant voice called him to supper. He 
 gave her the baby as he entered their little 
 dining-room, and she sat down with it in her arms 
 to pour out the tea. 
 
 " Does your head ache still?" inquired Marston. 
 
 " Badly ; but I think a cup of tea will do me 
 good." 
 
 " I hope so, indeed. Give baby back to me. I 
 can hold her." And the husband reached out his 
 hands for little Maggy, who, pleased to return, al 
 most leaped into his arms. 
 
 " Tou must take her back, mother," said Mars- 
 ton, rising from the table, in about ten minutes, 
 and reaching the baby to his wife. " It is late, and 
 I must be away, or the prayer-meeting will open 
 before I get there." 
 
 " But Maggy, who was very fond of her father, 
 did not wish to leave him ; and so struggled, aftes-
 
 AT HOME. 387 
 
 her mother had received her, and cried to be taken 
 back. 
 
 " Papa must go, darling." Marston bent down 
 and tried to soothe the grieving little one. As he 
 did so, Maggy got her arms around his neck, and 
 held on tightly. It took quite an effort to remove 
 them. 
 
 As Marston shut the door of his dwelling behind 
 him, and commenced walking rapidly away in the 
 direction of the church, at which the prayer- 
 meeting was to be held, he was conscious of an 
 unpleasant pressure upon his feelings. "What did 
 this mean ? He began at once searching about in 
 his mind for the cause. At first, he could see 
 nothing clearly ; but gradually thought went back 
 to the home he had just left, and to his pale, weary- 
 looking wife and children, grieving because he had 
 left them. 
 
 "Is this right?" The question came suddenly 
 upon him, and almost arrested his steps. 
 
 " I am sorry to leave them alone to-night," he 
 said within himself ; " and wouldn't, except for the 
 prayer-meeting. I gain so much strength and 
 comfort in this means of grace, that I feel as if it 
 would be wrong to neglect it."
 
 388 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 And so he walked on, but with slower steps, his 
 thoughts still returning to his home, and imagina 
 tion, giving more and more vivid pictures of his 
 wife and children in grief for his absence. At last 
 he stood still. 
 
 " I need the blessing I had hoped to receive this 
 evening. The strength, the comfort, the peace." 
 he said, still talking with himself. "But, poor 
 Anna I It is hard for her to be left alone. And 
 she isn't at all well." 
 
 " I will go back." He spoke out resolutely, at 
 last; and commenced retracing his steps. "I must 
 not consider myself alone. Perhaps God wix2 give 
 the strength and comfort I need, even if I do not 
 meet to-night with his people." 
 
 " Oh, James, is it you ?" Mrs. Marston started 
 at the unexpected appearance of her husband wno 
 saw, as she looked up, that her eyes were wet. 
 " Have you forgotten anything ?" 
 
 " Yes," he replied, as he stood gazing with un 
 usual tenderness upon her. 
 
 " What is it ? Can I get it for you?" 
 
 "I forgot to stay at home with my wife and 
 children," said the young man. 
 
 " Oh, James !" Tears gushed over his wife's face.
 
 AT HOME. 389 
 
 " And I've come back to remain with them." 
 
 Mrs. Marston leaned her aching head upon her 
 husband's shoulder, and sobbed. This unexpected 
 circumstance quite broke down the little self-com 
 posure that remained. 
 
 "Did you feel lonely?" 
 
 "Lonely, sad, and discouraged," she answered. 
 " But you are good and kind ; and I am weak and 
 foolish. Go back, James, to the prayer-meeting 
 I shall feel better now." 
 
 "!N"o, darling," said Marston. "I will stay at 
 home to help and comfort my lonely, sad, and 
 discouraged wife ; and I think I shall be serving 
 God in this, with a truer spirit of worship than I 
 could possibly feel in any prayer-meeting that I 
 went to at the sacrifice of a clear home duty." 
 
 u How does your head feel now, Anna?" was 
 asked half an hour later, as they sat together, Mrs. 
 Marston with her needle in her hand, and her hus 
 band holding both of the happy children in his. 
 arms. 
 
 " It is free from pain, and I feel so much better. 
 I think your unexpected return hns en rod me. 
 Ain't I a weak, foolish woman, James ? But, after 
 you have been absent all day long, I can't bear to
 
 390 BTEP8 TOWARDS IIEAVEN. 
 
 have you go out in the evening. I love BO to hear 
 you read to me ; and you don't know how much 
 good it always does me." 
 
 Mr. Marston smiled back upon his wife a loving 
 smile. New thoughts were awakened in his mind. 
 
 " There are other souls to be cared for as well as 
 my own," he said, a little while after, as he sat 
 musing on the occurrences of the evening. " The 
 souls of my wife and children. How can I help 
 them on the way to heaven ? By going out to reli 
 gious meetings, or by staying at home with them ? 
 Ah ! My duty is clear. I must do right before I 
 can "be right. If I endeavor to water the souls of 
 others, God will water my own soul. He has 
 placed these precious ones in my care, and I must 
 be faithful to the high mission." 
 
 To think right is the first step towards doing 
 right. "While his wife sat at her work, Mr. Mars- 
 ton put his little boy to bed ; first talking to him 
 about heaven, and its pure inhabitants, and then 
 hearing him say his prayers. 
 
 " God bless you, my son !" he said in his heart, 
 as he laid on his pure lips the good-night kiss. 
 
 Another new thing in the household of Mr. 
 Marston occurred that evening. As his wife sewed,
 
 AT HOME. 891 
 
 he read to her, first from religious books, and then 
 from the Bible. "When bed-time drew near, he 
 said, in a serious, but gentle voice 
 
 "There are home prayer- meetings, as well as 
 church prayer-meetings ; and God has said, 'Where 
 even two or three are gathered together in His 
 name, there He will be in the midst of them.' 
 Shall we not open a prayer-meeting in our house, 
 Anna a home prayer-meeting? There are two 
 of us here, and God has declared that even with 
 two He will be present." 
 
 "I am not strong enough for duty, Henry. 
 Every day I feel that human strength is but weak 
 ness. Pray with, and pray for me, that divine 
 strength will be given." 
 
 Mrs. Marston spoke with glistening eyes. 
 
 Then they knelt down together, and opened a 
 prayer-meeting in their home; and Marston 
 gathered in the act more strength and comfort 
 than could possibly have been found at the public 
 meeting, had he gone there in violation of his 
 home duties, and sung and prayed never so fer 
 vently ; for right actions, from religious principles, 
 alone bear us heavenwards.
 
 392 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEE. 
 
 XXXYI. 
 WILD OATS. 
 
 THERE are steps away from heaven, as well as 
 towards heaven, and a warning word cannot be 
 wholly out of place, and so we give this earnest 
 admonition to the young and thoughtless, and pray 
 them to keep their minds pure. 
 
 Many a young man has been lured from the 
 path of virtue, and enticed into the road that leads, 
 by an easy descent, into the accursed valley of 
 destruction, through the thoughtless speech of some 
 thoughtless person, talking flippantly about sowing 
 wild oats, as a thing to be expected in youth. 
 
 " I had one lesson on this subject from the lips 
 of an aged counsellor," said a valued friend to me, 
 not long since, " which has never been forgotten. 
 The timely warning saved me. I was nineteen 
 years of age, and had just entered college. Young 
 men were there from nearly every State in the
 
 WILD OATS. 393 
 
 Union, and some of them already sadly corrupted. 
 1 was social, in high health and spirits, and with an 
 imagination forever carrying me beyond the actual 
 and the present. Before I had time for reflection, 
 and before even a consciousness of wrong had 
 reached me, I was afloat on a dangerous sea, my 
 boat gliding swiftly forwards, and the Siren's songs 
 already in my ears. 
 
 " One night we had a wine party in the town, 
 which ended in excesses, the thought of which has 
 called a burning blush to my cheeks a hundred 
 times since. I had not been very well for some 
 days previously, suffering from constant headache 
 and low febrile symptoms. The dissipation of a 
 night turned the scale upon the wrong side, and I 
 was so ill the next day, that it was thought best to 
 call in a physician. He was an old man, of the 
 old school of gentlemen, and wise, thoughtful, and 
 kind. He commenced, at once, the business of 
 finding out everything in regard to my habits, 
 principles, and modes of thought, and there was 
 something in him that so inspired me with confi 
 dence, that I concealed nothing. He looked grave, 
 and offered a remonstrance. 
 
 " Oh/ said I, almost lightly, young men must 
 11*
 
 394: STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 sow their wild oats. The ground will be so much 
 the better prepared for seeding wheat, after the 
 crop is taken.' 
 
 " ' An error of the gravest character,' he replied, 
 seriously, * and one that has ruined its thousands 
 and its tens of thousands of young men. Is a garden 
 better prepared for the reception of good seed, for 
 having been first permitted to grow weeds ? I put 
 the question to your common sense. Are there not 
 some soils so filled with all manner of evil seeds, 
 that the gardener, with his utmost toil and care, 
 can scarcely remove the vigorous plants that spring 
 to life in the warm sunshine and rain ? It is no 
 mere comparison, that of the human soul to a 
 garden. It is, in reality, a spiritual garden. Truth 
 is the good seed which is sown in this garden, false 
 principles the evil seed, or ' wild oats,' which the 
 enemy's hand scatters, if permitted, upon its virgin 
 soil. Now, is it not as much an insult to reason to 
 say that the man will be a wiser, truer, better man, 
 for having false principles, leading at once to an 
 evil life, sown upon the ground of his mind in 
 youth, as it is to say that a garden will be more 
 thrifty in after years, for being first permitted to 
 grow weeds ?
 
 WILD OATS. 395 
 
 " ' My stranger friend ! I have lived almost to 
 the completion of life's earthly cycle, and have 
 seen a sad number of young men lost to the world, 
 lost to themselves, and lost, I fear, to the company 
 of God's blessed angels, in consequence of that 
 single false idea sown into the earth of their minds. 
 Oh, cast it out at once ! Keep yourself pure. Let 
 right principles, chaste thoughts, noble purposes, 
 manly aims, grow in your garden not the accursed 
 wild oats ! Be temperate, prudent, virtuous, obe 
 dient to superiors, honorable, kind. Aim to be a 
 man not a sensualist. Govern yourself as a man, 
 instead of letting passion, appetite, or any sensual 
 desire rule you as a tyrant. Sow no more wild 
 oats. You will find trouble enough in your after 
 life with the seed already scattered in your fields.' 
 
 " The scales," said my friend, " dropped at once 
 from my eyes. I saw that the good old physician 
 was right, and that this cant about sowing wild 
 oats involved one of the most dangerous fallacies 
 into which the mind of a young man could fall. 
 It was my last folly of this kind."
 
 396 STEPS TOWAKDS HEAVEN 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 * 
 
 THE ANGEL PAIN". 
 
 " OH, if it wasn't for pain," said Mrs. "Warren, 
 " life would be, indeed, a blessing ! But pain mars 
 everything. It is pain, pain, pain ! This is the 
 heirloom which every one possesses ; and the mind 
 must accept the fatal legacy as well as the body." 
 
 And the lady sunk back with a sigh upon the 
 pillow from which she had raised herself while 
 speaking. 
 
 " An angel who never sleeps at her post, is 
 pain," said a gentle voice, the low tones of which 
 filled the room like a passing strain of music. 
 
 " A malignant, destroying angel !" Mrs. War 
 ren spoke with almost angry excitement. 
 
 "A kind, wise, loving angel," was answered 
 firmly, " ever seeking to save. No enemy, whether 
 of the body or the soul, can approach the citadel
 
 THE ANGEL PAIN. 397 
 
 of life without a sure warning from this faithful 
 sentinel." 
 
 Mrs. "Warren's only response was a groan, ac 
 companied by a firm pressure of her hand against 
 her side. 
 
 "Does the pain increase?" was asked in tones 
 of sympathy. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! It seems at each breath, as if a knife 
 were passing through me." 
 
 " The doctor will soon be here, I trust ; and from 
 him we may hope for speedy relief." 
 
 " I am so oppressed !" said the sick lady, panting 
 as she spoke. " It seems as if a heavy weight 
 were crushing in my breast." 
 
 " You did not feel that in the beginning ?" 
 
 " No. The pain came first." 
 
 " Warning you of danger. I am glad we sent 
 so promptly for the physician. You dressed too 
 thinly last night. Bare arms and neck ! I said 
 the imprudence would bring its own punishment." 
 
 "Was that the bell?" asked Mrs. Warren, raising 
 her head and listening. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Oh, that it may be the doctor I This pain is 
 dreadful?"
 
 398 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 The doctor entered in a few moments. 
 
 " You did not send for me a minute too soon,'' 
 was almost his first remark, after examining into 
 the symptoms of his patient. It was a case of 
 acute pneumonia. Mrs. Warren, who was a fash 
 ionable woman, had attended a fashionable party 
 on the night before, with arms, neck, and part of 
 her chest exposed. The company was large, and 
 the rooms oppressively warm. Imprudently, she 
 sought an open window for fresh air. A sudden 
 check of perspiration was the result, and inflam 
 mation of the lungs the final consequence. Pain 
 gave timely warning of danger, and aid was 
 promptly summoned. Skillfully applied remedies 
 met the destroyer at the threshold, and he retired 
 after a brief conflict. 
 
 " Thanks to the angel pain !" said the sister of 
 Mrs. Warren, as she sat by the feeble convalescent. 
 " Your precious life has been spared." 
 
 There was a faint, assenting smile. 
 
 " If she had not been true to her mission ; if she 
 had slept one fatal moment at her post, and per 
 mitted disease to pass in without a stroke of warn 
 ing, the darkness of death would now veil the eyes 
 of our sister, and our hearts be shrouded in mourn-
 
 THE ANGEL PAIN. 
 
 ing. And so I say, blessed be pain ! It is God'b 
 merciful gift 1" 
 
 " Wise counsellor ! sweet consoler I What would 
 I not give, dear sister Anna, for your clear-sighted 
 eyes your Christian philosophy your divine 
 faith your acceptance, not only in my person, 
 but in your own, of pain as a blessing !" 
 
 " In nearly all cases," was the low-voiced an 
 swer, " pain comes from a violation of either 
 natural or moral laws. If the former, the body 
 suffers ; if the latter, the mind. And thus being 
 warned of error by the approach of evil, we turn 
 to the physician and are healed." 
 
 She paused, letting her meek eyes sink to the 
 floor, and remained lost for some time in thought. 
 
 " And so mental pain is an indicator of mental 
 disease 1" said Mrs. Warren. 
 
 " Always," the sister answered. 
 
 " Always ?" there was a tone of surprise in Mrs. 
 Warren's voice. 
 
 " But what if the pain arise from another's act, 
 instead of our own ?" 
 
 " As when the body receives external injury, for 
 instance ?" said Anna. 
 
 " Yes. Is the pain from mental disease in that
 
 400 BTEP8 TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 " Is the body in health when a hand is crushed, 
 or the flesh bruised ?" asked the sister. 
 
 "No." 
 
 " And sudden pain gives warning of the sudden 
 injury. A condition of health no longer exists, 
 and death may as surely follow without the phy 
 eician's aid as if every pore of the body had ab 
 sorbed contagion. As it is with the body, so is it 
 with the spirit. One is materially organized ; the 
 other, as I have often said to you, is spiritually 
 organized ; and both are subject to laws which 
 cannot be violated, even in the smallest particular, 
 without evil consequences. It matters not whether 
 the disturbance of harmony come from without or 
 from within the indicator, pain, gives surely its 
 alarm, and ceases not until the danger has passed. 
 If it were not so, spiritual death, which is the 
 extinction of all good affections in the soul, would 
 as certainly follow spiritual disease as natural 
 death follows natural disease." 
 
 "1 see, but dimly," said Mrs. "Warren with a 
 sigh. "Disease pain death! Alas! alas! There 
 is not a human flower untouched by their blight. 
 As for pain pain of mind, and pain of body it is 
 the death's head grinning at all our feasts."
 
 THE ANGEL PAIN. 401 
 
 " Say rather, dear sister, the angel who points to 
 the enemy of our peace, and cries, 'Beware! be 
 ware !' Look down into your heart, and question 
 it closely. From what causes have arisen pain ol 
 mind? From orderly or disorderly activities? 
 That is, from neighborly and divine affections, or 
 worldly and selfish affections; for in these two 
 lie all the elements of life. There is not an im 
 pulse of feeling, nor the motion of a thought, lying 
 outside of them. As the fountain is, so will the 
 stream be. As the life is orderly or disorderly 
 so will be the consciousness of life. The orderly 
 movement will be smooth, harmonious, delightful ; 
 the disorderly, with shock, and jar, and pain. 
 
 u Dear sister, look into your heart, and answer 
 the question "What has caused unhappiness ? The 
 activities of neighborly love, burning with a desire 
 to bless others ; or the activities of worldly love, 
 seeking to receive rather than to bestow ? "Were 
 we in the true order of our lives, we would be 
 God-like, for we are the work of his hands ; and to 
 be God-like is tc love others, and to seek their 
 good. But if, departing from true order, we love 
 only ourselves, and seek merely our own good, 
 disease of mind follows as a sure consequence;
 
 402 STEPS TOWARDS HEAVEN. 
 
 and pain, true to her mission, will give the needed 
 warning lest we perish in eternal death. Mental 
 suffering is, therefore, a sure sign that our life- 
 motions are in the wrong direction. Pain touches 
 us in mercy, not in wrath. Let us be wise, and 
 heed her divine admonitions." 
 
 " The memory of a good deed," said Mrs. "War 
 ren, speaking from a new state of perception, 
 " rarely gives us pain." 
 
 " Never," was answered, " when the prompting 
 motive is good. But if we exercise neighborly 
 charities from selfish or worldly ends, we cannot 
 claim the high reward of interior delight. As our 
 ends are, so always will be the quality of oui 
 enjoyments. Real good must be genuine, from 
 inception to act." 
 
 " But how are we to know whether our motive 
 be selfish or unselfish? Ends of life are most 
 deeply hidden." 
 
 ""We surround ourselves," replied the sister, 
 " with an atmosphere so dusky that vision is often 
 at fault. And so we move forwards, not always 
 certain of our steps. But thanks to the prompter, 
 pain, she will not permit us to swerve a hair's 
 breadth from the right path, without giving a sign
 
 THE ANGEL PAIN. 4:03 
 
 If we heed not her gentler admonitions, she speaks 
 in clearer tones ; and if we heed not yet, her voice 
 takes on a harsher thrill. Louder, sterner, harsher 
 it becomes, if our feet continue to walk in the 
 ways that lead downwards ; and she ceases not her 
 cry, even unto the end. A blessing on pain, then, 
 I repeat, dear sister!- A blessing on pain! She 
 k heaven-sent, and would lead us to heaven." 
 
 THE END.
 
 LIST 07 VALUABLE AND POPULAR BOOKS. 
 
 TRAVELS & RESEARCHES 
 
 UJtf&s of Soutf) Hfrtctt 
 
 This is a work of thrilling adventures and hair-breadth 
 escapes among savage beasts and more savage men. Dr. 
 Livingstone was alone, and unaided by any white man, 
 traveling with African attendants, among different tribes 
 and nations, all strange to him, and many of them hostile, 
 and altogether forming the most astonishing book o* 
 travels the world has ever seen. All acknowledge it is 
 the most readable book published. Price $1.25. 
 
 NOTICES OF THE PRESS. 
 
 It abounds In description* of strange and wonderful scene*, among a peopl and In 
 country entirely new to the civilized world ; and altogether we regard it as oae of tin 
 moit interesting books iuaed within the past year. Daily Democrat, Patttrson, A'M* 
 Jersey. 
 
 The subjects treated of are new and strange, and take a deep bold npou popular feel 
 ing. The book is baring a great ran, and will be read by every reading man, womaa, 
 and child, in this as well as other lands. Anhtabula (Ohio) Telegraph. 
 
 Those of oar readers who would have a delightful book for reading at any hour, will 
 <>'. be disappointed in this work. United Stales Journal. 
 
 This interesting work should be in the hands of every one. Its interesting pages of 
 Mventnres are full of instruction and amusement. Auburn American. 
 
 With truth we can say, that seldom is presented to the reading public a work con 
 taining such a vast amount of solid instruction as the one in question. Family Afaytf 
 tine. 
 
 It it a rich and valuable book for the general reader ; and the admirable style In which 
 tta publisher has issued it, will commend it to the favor of thousands. ChritUan 
 Gbterver. 
 
 This is * valuable work for the general reader, gotten np In beautiful style. A special 
 Interext I- given to this volume by the addition of valuable " Historical Hotice* of Di- 
 eoveries in Africa." Altogether, it would be difficult to name any work which would 
 ore completely meet the popular tuste of our day. Those of our friends who have 
 perufted "our" copy, speak very highly of It. Fort. Edward Innt. Monthly. 
 
 The present volume Is a beautiful 12mo., of 446 pages, numerously illustrated, an4 
 contains all of the original, except ome of the more dry, scientific details. It is - 
 htiieally an edition for the people ; and, judging from the rapid sale with wblefc II U 
 , it U folly appreiKted by them. Okrtotit. Enema*, oriOO.
 
 LIST VALUABLE AND POPTJLAfi BOOKS. 
 
 T. S. ARTHUR'S WORKS. 
 
 [The following List of Books are all written by T. S. ABTHUR, th 
 well-known author, of whom it lias been said, "that dying h hot 
 not written a word he would wish to erase." They are all gotten up 
 in the best style of binding, and are worthy of a place in eviry 
 household.] 
 
 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM, 
 
 This powerfully-written work, one of the best by its pvpular Avfkor, 
 haa met with an immense sale ten thousand copies having been 
 ordered within a month of publication. It is a large 12mo., illus 
 trated with a beautiful Mezzotint Engraving, by Sartain ; printed 
 on fine white paper, and bound in the best English muslin, gilt 
 oack. Price $1.00. 
 
 The following are a few of the many Notices of the Press. 
 
 Powerful and seasonable. JT. T. Independent. 
 
 Its scenes are painfully graphic, and furnish thrilling argument* for the temperance 
 cause. JVorton'* Literary Gazette. 
 
 Written in the author's most forcible and vigorous style. Lehigh Valley Time*. 
 
 lu the "Ten Nights in a Bar-Boom," some of the consequences of tavern-keeping, the 
 "sowing of the wind" and "reaping the whirlwind," are followed by a "fearful COB- 
 runmation," and the "closing bcene," presenting pictures of fearful, thrilling interest. 
 Am. Courier. 
 
 There is no exaggeration in these pages they seem to have beeu filled up from actual 
 observation. Philadelphia. Sun. 
 
 We have read it with the most intense Interest, and commend it as a work calculated 
 to do an immense amount of good. Lancaster Express. 
 
 We wish that all lovers of bar-rooms and rum would read the book. It will pay them 
 richly to do so. N. . Northern Blade. 
 
 It is sufficient commendation of this little volume to say that it is from the graphis 
 pen of T. S. Arthur, whose works will be read and reread long after he has passed 
 away. He is as true to nature, as far as he attempts to explore it, as Shakspewa 
 himself; and his works, consequently, have an immense popularity. New Haven 
 Palladium. 
 
 There are many scenes uneqnaled for pathos and beauty. The death of little Mary 
 M scarcely be surpassed. N. T. Some Journal. 
 
 WHAT CAN WOMAN DO? 
 
 12mc., with Mezzotint Engraving, Price |1.00 
 
 Our purpose is to show, in a series of life pictures, what woman can do, as well foi 
 rood as for evil. We desire to bring her before yon as a living entity, that you may set 
 her M she is, and comprehend in gome small degree the influence |he wields in the 
 world's progress upward, as well as her power to mar the human soul and drag it down 
 V perdition, wHen hei own spirit is darkened by eril r""io" " _?**"* fro** ** 
 
 i
 
 LIST OF VALUABLE AWD POPULAB BOOKS. 
 T. S. ARTHUR'S W RK8 Continued. 
 
 RELIGION IN COMMON LIFE. 
 
 Price, $1.00 
 
 NOTICBS OF THB PRESS. 
 
 It panders to the doctrines and tenets of no particular sect, and will be found an excel 
 lent bock to place in the hands of young people. Savannah Georgian, 
 
 It is a work well calculated to do good, and to put into the hands of 'ftio youth of th 
 country. Enquirer. 
 
 This work will interest the reader, and at the same time teach lemons of practical 
 Talue. Ch. Messenger, VI. 
 
 It is designed to show that the beauties and endearments of Christianity art to b 
 developed amid the stern realities of every-day life. Vermont Messenger. 
 
 It is a timely and good book, and should be widely read, etpacially by young Chris* 
 tians Central Ch. Herald, Cincinnati. 
 
 Mr. Arthur is already well known as an earnest man, whose object has been to do 
 his part in spreading the doctrines and teachings of the Christian religion ; and in tke 
 present volume he urges the necessity of charity, and endeavors to impress upon the 
 reader the fact that religion is for daily life, " and cannot be put aside at the tranquil 
 elose of Sabbath evenings." Courier and Enquirer. 
 
 More decidedly religious in its character than Arthur's other works, though it ll 
 neither doctrinal nor sectarian. Ch. Timef, Chicago. 
 
 The pen of T. S. Arthur never tires. In this new volume, we precelTO that he is 
 still laboring successfully in producing brief stories, the aim of which is moral. Ha 
 nays truly, when he declares that "no special theology is taught in this volume," by 
 which he means, we suppose, that controverted dogmas are not introduced. His main 
 point is, "Religion, to be of any real use to a man, must come down into all hit, daily 
 duties, and regulate his actions by a divine standard/' Exeter Newt Letter. 
 
 No special theology is taught in this volume. It addresses itself to no particular Met 
 or denomination. It has no aim bnt to assist men to grow better, and thence, happier. 
 Salem Gazette. 
 
 Arthur has produced few more satisfactory books than this. Atlas and Bet. 
 
 THE HAND WITHOUT THE HEART; 
 
 OB, 
 
 THE LIFE TRIALS OF JESSIE LORINGK 
 Prico, fl.OO 
 
 The point of this story Is expressed in the title ; and the story itself is a sharply drawn 
 Illustration of the folly and madness of linking together two immortal souls by tbo 
 tough chains of selfish interest, pride, or baser passion. The lesson taught is one of 
 4*ep significance; and thousands of hearts will throb in almost wild response, to th 
 lif experiences of Jessie Loring, who in all the bitter trials of her unhappy union, 
 werved not a hair's breadth from honor, principle, or religions duty, though temptation 
 *me in its uuwt alluring shape. A." the type of a true woman, he is worthy to b 
 mb%lm*4 in th memory of every reader. Southern Argv*. 
 
 TIB IOtN6 UDT Af BOMB. 
 
 to ot Prio, |i 00
 
 10 LIST 07 VALUABLE AND POPULAR BOOKS. 
 
 T. 8. A ET HUE'S W EKS Continued. 
 
 ARTHUR'S SKETCHES 
 
 OP 
 
 UPB AND CliRACTBR, 
 
 An octavo volume of over 400 pages, beautifully Illustrate!, an 
 Wand in the best English muslin, gilt. Price $2.00. 
 
 NOTICES OP THE PBESS. 
 
 The present yolume, containing more than four hundred finely-printed octavo page*, 
 Is illustrated by splendid engraving*, and made particularly valuable to those who like 
 to "nee the face of him they talk withal,'N>y a correct likeness of the author, finely en 
 graved on steel. Xeal'a Gazette. 
 
 In the princely mansions of the Atlantic merchants, and in the rude log cabins of th 
 backwoodsmen, the name of Arthur is equally known and cherished as the friend of 
 rittne. Graham's Magazine. 
 
 We would not exchange our copy of these sketches, with its story of " The Methodist 
 Preacher," for any one of the gilt-edged and embossed Annuals which we have yet seen. 
 Lady'g National Magazine.. 
 
 The first story in the volume, entitled " The Methodist Preacher, or hights and 
 Shadows in the Life of an Itinerant," is alone worth the price of the work. Evening 
 Bulletin. 
 
 It is emphatically a splendid work. Middletown Whig. 
 
 IU worth and cheapness should place it in every person's hands who desires to read 
 an interesting book. Odd Fellow, Boonsboro'. 
 
 " The Methodist Preacher," " Seed-Time and Harvest," ' Dyed in the Wool," are full 
 >f truth as well as instruction, and any one of them is worth the whole price of the 
 volume. Lowell Day-star, Rev. D. C. Eddy, Editor. 
 
 There is a fascination about these sketches which so powerfully Interests the reader, 
 that few who commence one of them will part with it till it is concluded ; and they will 
 bear reading repeatedly. ^for/oik and Portsmouth Herald. 
 
 Those who have not perused these model stories have a rich feast in waiting, and we 
 hall be happy if we can be instrumental in pointing them to it. family Visitor, 
 Hadison, G<r. 
 
 No library for family rending should be considered complete without this volume, 
 which is as lively and entertaining in ita character, as it is salutary in its influence. 
 N. Y Tribune. 
 
 The work is beautifully illustrated. Those who are at all acquainted with Arthnr'i 
 writings need hardly be told that the present work is a prize to whoever possesses it. 
 Jf. . Sun. 
 
 We know no better book for the table of any family, whether regarded for its ne 
 xterior or valuable contents. Vox Popult, Lowell. 
 
 The name of the author is in itself a sufficient recommendation of the work. Lav> 
 rtnee Sentinel. 
 
 T. 8. Arthur is one of the best literary writers of the age. Watchman, CiiclevttU 
 Mfe. 
 
 The name alone of the author is a sufficient guarantee to the reading public of its snr 
 passing merit. The Argus Gallattn, Miss. 
 
 Probably he has not written a line which, dying, he could wish to erase. Parkeri 
 Gazette: 
 
 THE WITHERED HEART. 
 
 with fine Mezzotint Frontispiece. Cloth Price $1.0t 
 
 This work has gone through several editions in England although 
 published but a few weeks, and has had the most nattering notice* 
 Loa the English Press.
 
 LIST OF VALUABLE AND POPTJLAB BOOKS. 11 
 
 T. S. ARTHUR'S W RK.S Continued. 
 
 anb Sjmkfos of $tal fife. 
 
 With an Autobiography and Portrait of the Author. Over fir* 
 hundred pages, octavo, with line tinted Engravings. Price $2.00. 
 
 NOTICES OF THE PRESS. 
 
 In this volume may be found a "moral suasion," which cannot but affect for goo4 
 ill who read. The mechanical execution of the work a very beautiful throughout. 
 M&D Haven Palladium. 
 
 It U by far the most valuable book ever published of his works, inasmuch as it la * 
 tiched with a very interesting, though brief autobiography. American Courier. 
 
 No family library is complete without a copy of this boik. Scott's Weekly Paper. 
 
 No better or worthier present could be made to the young ; no offering more purg 
 charitable, and practicable could be tendered to those who are interested in the truly 
 oenevolent reforms of the day. Oodey's Lady's Book. 
 
 The paper, the engravings, the binding, and the literary contents, are all calculated 
 to make it a favorite. Penn. Inquirer. 
 
 This volume caunot be too highly recommended. N. T. Tribune. 
 
 More good has been effected, than by any other single medium that we know of. 
 N. Y. Sun. 
 
 The work should be upon the centre-table of every parent In the land. Nationa* 
 Temperance Magazine. 
 
 LEAVES FROM THE BOOK OF HUMAN LIFE 
 
 Large 12mo. With Thirty Illustrations and Steel Plate. Price $1.00 
 
 A. single story is worth the price charged for the book. Union, Newburyport, Mass 
 " It includes some of the best humorous sketches of the author." 
 
 I The following Books are bound in uniform style as "ARTHUR'S 
 COTTAGE LIBRARY," and are sold in sets, or separately, each 
 volume being complete in itself. Each volume is embellished 
 with a fine Mezzotint Engraving.] 
 
 TO 
 
 AND OTHER TALES. 
 Cloth, 12mo., with Mezzotint Engraving, ..................... Price $1.00 
 
 TRUE RICHES; OR, WEALTH WITHOUT WINGS, 
 
 AND OTHER TALES. 
 Cleth, 12mo., with Mezzotint Engraving, ..................... Price $1.00 
 
 ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 AND OTHER TALES. 
 Cloth, 12mo., witL Mezzotint Engraving, ,. Price $1.00
 
 (2 LIST OF VALUABLE AND POPULAR BOOKS. 
 
 T. S. ARTHUR'S W RKS Continued. 
 
 GOLDEN GRAMS FROM LIFE'S HARVEST-FIELD. 
 
 Bound in gilt back and sides, sheep, with, a beautiful Mezzotint En 
 graying. 12mo. Price $1.00. 
 
 NOTICES OF THE PRESS. 
 
 It Is not too much to say, that the Golden Grains here presented to the reader, ar 
 net an will be productive of a far greater amonnt of human happiness than those U 
 earoh of which so many are willing to risk domestic peace, health, and even life itsel 
 In a distant and inhospitable region. 
 
 These narratives, like all of those which proceed from the same able pen, are re 
 markable not only for their entertaining and lively pictures of actual life, but for their 
 Admirable moral tendency. 
 
 It is printed in excellent style, and embellished with a mezzotint engraving. We 
 cordially recommend it to the favor of oar readers. Gfodey't Lady's Magazine. 
 
 s gome 
 
 f The following four volumes contain nearly 500 pages, Illustrated 
 with fine Mezzotint Engravings. Bound in the best manner, and 
 sold separately or in sets. They have been introduced into the 
 District, Sabbath-school, and other Libraries, and are considered 
 one of the best series of the author.] 
 
 THREE ERAS IN A WOMAN'S LIFE. 
 
 Containing MAIDEN, WIFE, and MOTHER. 
 
 Cloth, 12mo., with Mezzotint Engraving, Price $1.00 
 
 "This, by many, is considered Mr. Arthur's best work." 
 
 TALES OF MARRIED LIFE. 
 
 Containing LOVERS and HUSBANDS, SWEETHEARTS and 
 WIVES, and MARRIED and SINGLE. 
 
 Cloth, 12mo., with Mezzotint Engraving, Price $1.00. 
 
 "In this volume may be found some valuable hints for wives and husbands, aa wel 
 M the young." 
 
 TALES OF DOMESTIC LIFE. 
 
 Containing MADELINE, THE HEIRESS, THE MARTYR 
 WIFE, and RUINED GAMESTER. 
 
 Cloth, 12mo., with Mezzotint Engraving, Price $1.00. 
 
 "Contains several sketches of thrilling interest." 
 
 TALES OF REAL LIFE. 
 
 Containing BELL MARTIN, PRIDE and PRINCIPLE, MARY 
 ELLIS, FAMILY PRIDE, and ALICE MELVILLE. 
 
 Cleth, 12mo., with Mezzotint Engraving, Price $1.06. 
 
 * i'kis Tolume givs the experiences of real life by many who found not their ids*!.
 
 LIST OF VALUABLE AND POPULAR BOOKS. 13 
 
 T S. ARTHUR'S WO RKS Continued. 
 
 A BOOK OF STARTLING INTEREST. 
 
 Till mmi AND TIB DfflON, 
 
 A handsome 12mo. volume. Price $1.00 
 
 In this exciting story Mr. ARTHUB has taken hold of the reader'a 
 attention with a more than usually vigorous grasp, and keeps him 
 absorbed to the end of the volume. The book is one of START 
 LING INTEREST. Its lessons should be 
 
 IN THE HEART OF EVERY MOTHER. 
 
 Onward, with a power of demonstration that makes conviction a 
 necessity, the Author sweeps through his subject, fascinating at 
 every step. In the union of 
 
 THRILLING DRAMATIC INCIDENT, 
 
 with moral lessons of the highest importance, this volume stands 
 forth pre-eminent among the author's many fine productions. 
 
 NOTICES OF THE PRESS. 
 
 A utory of much power, imbued with that excellent moral and religions spirit which 
 pervades all his writings. N. Y. Chronicle. 
 
 This volume is among his best productions, and worthy of a place on every centre- 
 table. Clarion, Pa., Banner. 
 
 This is a most fascinating book, one which the reader will find it quite hard to lay 
 tide without reading to the last page. Albany, N. Y., Journal and Courier. 
 
 THE GOOD TIME COMING. 
 
 Large 12mo., with fine Mezzotint Frontispiece, Price $1.00 
 
 It is like every thing emanating from that source worth reading. Toledo Bla.de. 
 It i* characterized b. \\\ the excellencies of hit style. "Phila. SutteUn. 
 It is a book the most scrupulous parent ay flaw i *. hand of hia child. 
 4#?we Transcript.
 
 14 
 
 LIST OF VALUABLE AND POPULAR BOOKS. 
 
 T. S. ARTHUR'S W R K S Continued. 
 
 The Old Man's Bride, Price $1.0 
 
 Heart Histories and Life Pictures, - " 1.00 
 
 Sparing to Spend; or, The Loftons and 
 Finkertons, 
 
 Home Scenes, 
 
 1.0 
 1.0 
 
 I 
 
 OF 
 
 Two vols. in one. By Gen. S. P. LYMAN. Price $1.0 J. 
 
 EXTRACT FROM PREFACE. 
 
 The Personal Memorials, which compose BO large a portion of 
 these volumes, are from the pen of Gen. S. P. Lyman, whose inti 
 mate and confidential relations with Mr. Webster afford a sufficient 
 guarantee for their authenticity. They are believed by the publisher 
 to embrace a more copious collection of original and interesting 
 memoranda, concerning the life and character of the great States 
 man whose recent death has created so deep a sense of bereavement 
 throughout the country, than has hitherto been given to the world. 
 
 coon mm ROUND THE WORLD. 
 
 Two yolumes in one, 
 
 Prioc $1.00
 
 LIST OF VALUABLE AND POPTTLAB BOOKS. 15 
 
 THE MASTER-SPIRIT OF THE AGE. 
 
 THE PUBLIC AND PRIVATE HISTORY 
 
 OF 
 
 NAPOLEON THE THIRD, 
 
 WITH 
 
 Biographical Notices of his most Distinguished 
 Ministers, Generals and Favorites. 
 
 BY SAMUEL M. SMUCKER, A,M. 
 
 Author of "Court and Reign of Catharine II.," "Nicholas I., Emperor of Raida," 
 " Life of Alexander Hamilton," etc., etc. 
 
 This interesting and valuable work is embellished with splendid 
 Steel Plates, done by Mr. Sartain in his best style, including 
 
 THE EMPEROR, THE EMPRESS, QUEEN HORTENSE, 
 AND THE COUNTESS CASTIGLIONE. 
 
 The work contains over 400 pages of closely-printed matter, and 
 has been prepared with much care from authentic sources, and fur- 
 riches a large amount of information in reference to the Emperoi 
 the French, 
 
 HIS COURT, AND FRANCE UNDER THE SECOND EMPIRE, 
 
 which is entirely new to American readers. This work is the only one, 
 either in English or French, which boldly and accurately describes 
 
 THE REAL CHARACTER, THE PRIVATE MORALS, THK 
 PUBLIC POLICY, OF NAPOLEON THE THIRD. 
 
 Copies sent by mail on receipt of the price, $1.25. 
 
 NOTICES OF THE PRESS. 
 
 Th'.g 1* a very valuable contribution to the literature of the present time. An extra 
 rdinary amount of information is given in the present volume. Like all the othe: 
 works of the graceful and fluent author, It must command a very large popularity. 
 Philadelphia Mncury. 
 
 It is the most complete biography of the French Emperor yet published, aud bringi 
 rent* down to the present time. Baltimore Republican. 
 
 This book is well written, printed on good paper, is neatly bound, good size, and sold 
 cheap. Valley Spirit, Chamber sbnrg. 
 
 This work does full and ample justice to the subject. It Is a production of superior 
 ability. Mr. Smucker is an accnmplished writer. He is learned and accurate in hU 
 tesearches, and his style is polished and scholarlike, so that he produces worki of 
 ling value and permanent interest. Philadelphia Dispatch.
 
 LIST OF VALUABLE AND POPULAR BOOKS. 17 
 
 AMONG 
 
 BY JOHN FKOST, LL.D. 
 
 COMPRISING THE MOST REMARKABLE 
 
 Personal Narratives of Events in the 
 Early Indian Wars, 
 
 AS WELL AS OF 
 
 INCIDENTS IN THE RECENT INDIAN HOSTILITIES IN 
 MEXICO AND TEXAS. 
 
 Illustrated witli over 30G Engravings, from designs by W. Croome, 
 and other distinguished artists. It contains over 500 page! 
 12mo. Bound in cloth, gilt back. Price, $1.25. 
 
 o :R, A. :MI .A. 
 
 OP 
 
 THE OLD WORLD AND THE NEW 
 
 COMPRISING 
 
 A View of the Present State of the Nations of the Wont, 
 
 their Names, Customs, and Peculiarities, and their Political, 
 
 Moral, Social, and Industrial Condition. 
 
 Interspersed with Historical Sketches and Anecdotes, by WILLIAK 
 PIICNOCK, author of the Histories of England, Greece, and Rome. 
 Enlarged, revised, and embellished with several hundred En 
 gravings, including twenty-four finely-colored Plates, from designs 
 of Croome, Devereux, and other distinguished artists. It ceu- 
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