A HOUSEHOLD SKETCH.
FROM some cause, real or imaginary, I felt low spirited. There was acloud upon my feelings, and I could not smile as usual, nor speak ina tone of cheerfulness. As a natural result, the light of mycountenance being gone, all things around me were in shadow. Myhusband was sober, and had little to say; the children would lookstrangely at me when I answered, their questions, or spoke to themfor any purpose, and my domestics moved about in a quiet manner, andwhen they addressed me, did so in a tone more subdued than usual.
This re-action upon my state, only made darker the clouds thatveiled my spirits. I was conscious of this, and was conscious thatthe original cause of my depression was entirely inadequate, initself, to produce the result which had followed. Under thisfeeling, I made an effort to rally myself, but in vain; and sanklower from the very struggle to rise above the gloom thatovershadowed me.
When my husband came home at dinner time, I tried to meet him with asmile; but I felt that the light upon my countenance was feeble, andof brief duration. He looked at me earnestly, and, in his kind andgentle way, inquired if I felt no better, affecting to believe thatmy ailment was one of the body instead of the mind. But I scarcelyanswered him, and I could see that he felt hurt. How much morewretched did I become at this. Could I have then retired to mychamber, and, alone, give my full heart vent in a passion of tears,I might have obtained relief to my feelings. But, I could not dothis.
While I sat at the table, forcing a little food into my mouth forappearance sake, my husband said--
"You remember the fine lad who has been for some time in our store?"
I nodded my head, but the question did not awaken in my mind theslightest interest.
"He has not made his appearance for several days; and I learned thismorning, on sending to the house of his mother, that he was veryill."
"Ah!" was my indifferent response. Had I spoken what was in my mind,I would have said--"I'm sorry, but I can't help it." I did not, atthe moment, feel the smallest interest in the lad.
"Yes," added my husband, "and the person who called to let me knowabout it, expressed his fears that Edward would not get up again."
"What ails him?" I inquired.
"I did not clearly understand. But he has fever of some kind. Youremember his mother very well?"
"Oh, yes. You know she has worked for me. Edward is her only child,I believe."
"Yes. And his loss to her will be almost every thing."
"Is he so dangerous?" I inquired, a feeling of interest beginning tostir in my heart.
"He is not expected to live."
"Poor woman! How distressed she must be? I wonder what hercircumstances are just at this time. She seemed very poor when sheworked for me."
"And she is very poor still, I doubt not. She has herself been sick,and during the time it is more than probable, that Edward's wageswere all her income. I am afraid she has suffered, and that she hasnot, now, the means of procuring for her sick boy things necessaryfor his comfort. Could you not go around there this afternoon, andsee how they are?"
I shook my head instantly, at this proposition, for sympathy forothers was not yet strong enough to expel my selfish despondency ofmind.
"Then I must step around," replied my husband, "before I go back tothe store, although we are very busy today, and I am much wantedthere. It would not be right to neglect the lad and his mother underpresent circumstances."
I felt rebuked at these words; and, with a forced effort, said--
"I will go."
"It will be much better for you to see them than for me," returnedmy husband, "for you can understand their wants better, and ministerto them more effectually. If they need any comforts, I would likeyou to see them supplied."
It still cost me an effort to get ready; but as I had promised thatI would do as my husband wished, the effort. had to be made. By thetime I was prepared to go out, I felt something better. The exertionI was required to make, tended to disperse slightly the clouds thathung over me, and, as they began gradually to move, my thoughtsturned, with an awakening interest, toward the object of myhusband's solicitude.
All was silent within the humble abode to which my errand led me. Iknocked lightly, and in a few moments the mother of Edward openedthe door. She looked pale and anxious.
"How is your son, Mrs. Ellis?" I inquired, as I stepped in.
"He is very low, ma'am," she replied.
"Not dangerous, I hope?"
"The fever has left him, but he is as weak as an infant. All hisstrength is gone."
"But proper nourishment will restore him, if the disease is broken."
"So the doctor says. But I'm afraid it is too late. He seems to besinking every hour. Will you walk up and see him, ma'am?"
I followed Mrs. Ellis up stairs, and into the chamber where the sickboy lay. I was not surprised at the fear she had expressed, when Isaw Edward's pale, sunken face, and hollow, almost expressionlesseyes. He scarcely noticed my entrance.
"Poor boy!" sighed his mother. "He has had a very sick spell." Myliveliest interest was at once awakened.
"He has been sick indeed!" I replied, as I laid my hand upon hiswhite forehead. I found that his skin was, cold and damp. The feverhad nearly burned out the vital energies of his system. "Do you givehim much nourishment?"
"He takes a little barley water."
"Has not the doctor ordered wine?"
"Yes, ma'am," replied Mr. Ellis, but she spoke with an air ofhesitation. "He says a spoonful of good wine, three or four times aday, would be very good for him."
"And you have not given him any?"
"No ma'am,"
"We have some very pure wine, that we always keep for sickness. Ifyou will step over to our house, and tell Alice to give you a bottleof it, I will stay with Edward until you return."
How brightly glowed that woman's face, as my words fell upon herears!
"Oh, ma'am you are very kind!" said she. "But it will be asking toomuch of you to stay here!"
"You did'nt ask it, Mrs. Ellis," I smilingly replied. "I haveoffered to stay; so do you go for the wine as quickly as you can,for Edward needs it very much."
I was not required to say more. In a few minutes I was alone withthe sick boy, who lay almost as still as if death were resting uponhis half closed eye-lids. To some extent, in the half hour Iremained thus in that hushed chamber, did I realize the conditionand feelings of the poor mother whose only son lay gasping at thevery door of death, and all my sympathies were, in consequence,awakened.
As soon as Mrs. Ellis returned with the wine, about a tea spoonfulof it was diluted, and the glass containing it placed to the sicklad's lips. The moment its flavor touched his palate, a thrillseemed to pass through his frame, and he swallowed eagerly.
"It does him good!" said I, speaking warmly, and from an impulse ofpleasure that made my heart glow.
We sat, and looked with silent interest upon the boy's face, and wedid not look in vain, for something like warmth came upon his wancheeks, and when I placed my hand again upon his forehead, thecoldness and dampness was gone. The wine had quickened his languidpulses. I staid an hour longer, and then another spoonful of thegenerous wine was given. Its effect was as marked as at first. Ithen withdrew from the humble home of the widow and her only child,promising to see them again in the morning.
When I regained the street and my thoughts, for a moment, revertedto myself, how did I find all changed. The clouds had beendispersed--the heavy hand raised from my bosom, I walked with afreer step. Sympathy for others, and active efforts to do othersgood, had expelled the evil spirits from my heart; and now serenepeace had there again her quiet habitation. There was light in everypart of my dwelling when I re-entered it, and I sung cheerfully, asI prepared, with my own hands, a basket of provisions for the poorwidow.
When my husband returned in the evening, he found me at work,cheerfully, in my family, and all bright and smiling again. Theeffort to do good to others had driven away the darkness from myspirit, and the sunshine was again upon my countenance, andreflected from every member of my household.--Lady's Wreath.
THE END.
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