"TO some the sky is always bright, while to others it is never freefrom clouds. There is to me a mystery in this--something that lookslike a partial Providence--for those who grope sadly through life indarkened paths are, so far as human judgment can determine, oftenpurer and less selfish than those who move gayly along in perpetualsunshine. Look at Mrs. Adair. It always gives me the heart-ache tothink of what she has endured in life, and still endures. Once shewas surrounded by all that wealth could furnish of external good;now she is in poverty, with five children, clinging to her forsupport, her health feeble, and few friends to counsel or lend hertheir aid. No woman could have loved a husband more tenderly thanshe loved hers, and few wives were ever more beloved in return; butshe has gathered the widow's weeds around her, and is sitting in thedarkness of an inconsolable grief. What a sweet character was hers!Always loving and unselfish--a very angel on the earth fromchildhood upwards, and yet her doom to tread this darkened pathway!If Heaven smiles on the good--if the righteous are never forsaken,why this strange, hard, harsh Providence in the case of Mrs. Adair?I cannot understand it! God is goodness itself, they say, and lovesHis creatures with a love surpassing the love of a mother; but wouldany mother condemn beloved child to such a cruel fate? No, no, no!From the very depths of my spirit I answer--No! I am only a weak,erring, selfish creature, but--"
Mrs. Endicott checked the utterance of what was in her thought, forat the instant another thought, rebuking her for an impiouscomparison of herself with her Maker, flitted across her mind. Yes,she was about drawing a Parallel between herself and a Being ofinfinite wisdom and love, unfavourable to the latter!
The sky of Mrs. Endicott had not always been free from clouds. Manytimes had she walked in darkness; and why this was so ever appearedas one of the mysteries of life, for her self-explorations had nevergone far enough to discover those natural evils, the existence ofwhich only a state of intense mental suffering would manifest to herdeeper consciousness. But all she had yet been called to endure,was, she freely acknowledged, light in comparison to what poor Mrs.Adair had suffered, and was suffering daily--and the case of thisfriend gave her a strong argument against the wisdom and justice ofthat Power in the hands of which the children of men are as clay inthe hands of the potter.
Even while Mrs. Endicott thus questioned and doubted, a domesticopened the door of the room in which she was sitting, and said,
"Mrs. Adair is in the parlour."
"Is she? Say that I will be down in a moment."
Mrs. Endicott felt a little surprised at the coincidence of herthought of her friend and that friend's appearance. It was anotherof those life-mysteries into which her dull eyes could notpenetrate, and gave new occasion for dark surmises in regard to thePower above all, in all, and ruling all. With a sober face, as wasbefitting an interview with one so deeply burdened as Mrs. Adair,she went down to the parlour.
"My dear friend!" she said, tenderly, almost sadly, as she took thehand of her visiter.
Into the eyes of Mrs. Adair she looked earnestly for the glitteringtear-veil, and upon her lips for the grief curve. To her surpriseneither were there; but a cheerful light in the former and a gentlesmile on the latter.
"How are you this morning?"
Mrs. Endicott's voice was low and sympathizing.
"I feel a little stronger, to-day, thank you," answered Mrs. Adair,smiling as she spoke.
"How is your breast?"
"Still very tender."
"And the pain in your side."
"I am not free from that a moment."
Still she smiled as she answered. There was not even a touch ofsadness or despondency in her voice.
"Not free a moment! How do you bear it?"
"Happily--as I often say to myself--I have no time to think aboutthe pain," replied Mrs. Adair, cheerfully. "It is wonderful howmental activity lifts us above the consciousness of bodilysuffering. For my part, I am sure that if I had nothing to do but tosit down and brood over my ailments, I would be one of the mostmiserable, complaining creatures alive. But a kind Providence, evenin the sending of poverty to his afflicted one, has but tempered thewinds to the shorn lamb."
Mrs. Endicott was astonished to hear these words, falling, as theydid, with such a confiding earnestness from the pale lips of hermuch-enduring friend.
"How can you speak so cheerfully?" she said. "How can you feel sothankful to Him who has shrouded your sky in darkness, and left youto grope in strange paths, on which falls not a single ray oflight?"
"Even though the sky is clouded," was answered, "I know that the sunis shining there as clear and as beautiful as ever. The paths inwhich a wise and good Providence has called me to walk, may bestrange, and are, at times, rough-and toilsome; but you err insaying that no light falls upon them.
"But the sky is dark--whence comes the light, Mrs. Adair?"
"Don't you remember the beautiful hymn written by Moore? It is to meworth all he ever penned besides. How often do I say it over tomyself, lingering with a warming heart and. a quickening pulse, onevery word of consolation!"
And in the glow of her fine enthusiasm, Mrs. Adair repeated--
"Oh, Thou, who dry'st the mourner's tear, How dark this world would be, If, when deceived and wounded here, We could not fly to Thee! The friends, who in our sunshine live, When winter comes, are flown; And he who has but tears to give, Must weep those tears alone. But Thou wilt heal that broken heart, Which, like the plants that throw Their fragrance from the wounded part, Breathes sweetness out of woe.
"When joy no longer soothes or cheers, And e'en the hope that threw A moment's sparkle o'er our tears Is dimmed and vanished, too, Oh, who would bear life's stormy doom, Did not Thy wing of Love Come, brightly wafting through the gloom Our Peace-branch from above? Then sorrow, touched by Thee, grows bright With more than rapture's ray As darkness shows us worlds of light We never saw by day."
"None, said Mrs. Adair, "but those who have had the sky of theirearthly affections shrouded in darkness, can fully understand theclosing words of this consolatory hymn. Need I now answer yourquestion, 'Whence comes the light?' There is an inner world Mrs.Endicott--a world full of light, and joy, and consolation--a worldwhose sky is never darkened, whose sun is never hidden by clouds.When we turn from all in this life that we vainly trusted, and liftour eyes upward towards the sky, bending over our sad spirits, anunexpected light breaks in upon us, and we see a new firmament,glittering with myriads of stairs, whose light is fed from thatinner world where the sun shines for ever undimmed. Oh, no, I do nottread a darkened pathway, Mrs. Endicott. There is light upon it fromthe Sun of heaven, and I am walking forward, weary at times, it maybe, but with unwavering footsteps. I have been tried sorely, it istrue--I have suffered, oh how deeply! and yet I can say, and do say,it is good for me that I was afflicted. But I meant not to speak somuch of myself, and you must forgive the intrusion. Self, you know,is ever an attractive theme. I have called this morning to try andinterest you in a poor woman who lives next door to me. She is veryill, and I am afraid will die. She has two children, almostbabes--sweet little things--and if the mother is taken they will beleft without a home or a friend, unless God puts it into the heartof some one to give them both. I have been awake half the night,thinking about them, and debating the difficult question of my dutyin the case. I might make room for one of them--"
"You!" Mrs. Endicott interrupted her in a voice of unfeignedastonishment. "You! How can you give place a moment to such athought, broken down in health as you are and with five children ofyour own clinging to you for support? It would be unjust to yourselfand to them. Don't think of such a thing."
"That makes the difficulty in the case," replied Mrs. Adair. "Thespirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. My heart is large enoughto take both of them in; but I have not strength enough to bear theadded burden. And so I have come around this morning to see if Icannot awaken your interest. They are dear, sweet children, and willcarry sunshine and a blessing into any home that opens to receivethem."
"But why, my friend," said Mrs. Endicott, "do you, whose time is soprecious--who have cares, and interests, and anxieties of your own,far more than enough for one poor, weak woman to bear, burdenyourself with a duty like this? Leave the task to others more fittedfor the work."
"There are but few who can rightly sympathize with that mother andher babes; and I am one of the few. Ah! my kind friend, none but themother, who like me has been brought to the verge of eternity, cantruly feel for one in like circumstances. I have looked at my ownprecious ones, as I felt the waves of time sweeping my feet fromtheir earthly resting place, and wept bitter tears as no answer cameto the earnest question, 'Who will love them, who will care for thewhen I am taken?' You cannot know, Mrs. Endicott, how profoundlythankful to God I am, that He spares my life, and yet gives mestrength to do for my children. I bless His name for this tendermercy towards me when I lie down at night, and when I rise up in themorning, I bear every burden, I endure every pain cheerfully,hopefully, even thankfully. It is because I can understand the heartof this dying mother, and feel for her in her mortal extremity, thatI undertake her cause. You have only one child, my friend, and sheis partly grown. 'A babe in the house is a well-spring of pleasure.'Is it not so? Take one, or even both of these children, if themother dies. They are the little ones who are born upon the earth,in order that they may become angels in Heaven. They are of God'skingdom, and precious in His eyes. Nurture and raise them up forHim. Come! oh, come with me to the bedside of this dying mother, andsay to her, 'Give me your babes, and I will shelter them in myheart.' So doing, you will open for yourself a perennial fountain ofdelight. The picture of that poor mother's joyful face, paintedinstantly by love's bright sunbeams on your memory, will be a sourceof pleasure lasting as eternity. Do not neglect this goldenopportunity, nor leave other hands to gather the blessings which lieabout your feet."
That earnest plea was echoed from the heart of Mrs. Endicott. Thebeautiful enthusiasm, so full of a convincing eloquence, prevailed;and the woman in whose heart the waters of benevolence were growingstagnant, and already sending up exhalations that were hiding theSun of heaven, felt a yearning pity for the dying mother, and wasmoved by an unselfish impulse toward her and her babes. Half an hourafterwards she was in the sick-chamber; and ere leaving had receivedfrom the happy mother the solemn gift of her children, and seen hereyes close gently as her spirit took its tranquil departure for itsbetter home.
"God will bless you, madame!"
All the dying mother's thankfulness was compressed into these words,and her full heart spent itself in their utterance.
Far away, in the inner depths of Mrs. Endicott's spirit--very faraway--the words found an echo; and as this echo came back to herears, she felt a new thrill of pleasure that ran deeper down theelectric chain of feelings than emotion had ever, until now,penetrated. There were depths and capacities in her being unknownbefore; and of this she had now a dim perception. Her action wasunselfish, and to be unselfish is to be God-like--for God acts froma love of blessing others. To be God-like in her action brought hernearer the Infinite Source of what is pure and holy; and allproximity in this direction gives its measure of interiordelight--as all retrocession gives its measure of darkness anddisquietude.
"God will bless you!"
Mrs. Endicott never ceased hearing these words, and she felt them tobe a prophecy. And God did bless her. In bestowing love and careupon the motherless little ones, she received from above double forall she gave. In blessing, she was twice blessed. About them herheart entwined daily new tendrils, until her own life beat withtheirs in even pulses, and to seek their good was the highest joy ofher existence.
Still there were times when Mrs. Endicott felt that to some God wasnot just in his dispensations, and the closer she observed Mrs.Adair, the less satisfied was she that one so pure-minded, sounselfish, so earnest to impart good to others, should be so hardlydealt by--should be compelled to grope through life with painfulsteps along a darkened way.
"There is a mystery in all this which my dim vision fails topenetrate," she said one day, to Mrs. Adair. "But we see here onlyin part--I must force myself into the belief that all is right. Isay force, for it is indeed force-work."
"To me," was answered, "there is no longer a mystery here. I havebeen led by at way that I knew not. For a time I moved along thisway, doubting, fearing trembling--but now I see that it is the rightway, and though toilsome at times, yet it is winding steadilyupwards, and I begin to see the sunshine resting calmly on themountain-tops. Flowers, too, are springing by the wayside--few theyare, as yet, but very fragrant."
Mrs. Adair paused for a moment, and then resumed,
"It may sound strange to you, but I am really happier than when allwas bright and prosperous around me."
Mrs. Endicott looked surprised.
"I am a better woman, and therefore happier. I do not say thisboastfully, but only to meet your question. I am a more usefulwoman, and therefore happier, for, as I have learned, inward peaceis the sure reward of benefits conferred. The doing of good toanother, from an unselfish end, brings to the heart its purestpleasure; and is not that the kindest Providence which leads us, nomatter by what hard experiences, into a state of willingness to livefor others instead of for ourselves alone? The dying mother, whosegift to you has proved so great--a good, might have passed away,though her humble abode stood beside the elegant residence I calledmy home, without exciting more than a passing wave ofsympathy--certainly without filling my heart with the yearningdesire to make truly peaceful her last moments, which led to thehappy results that followed her efforts in my behalf. My children,too; you have often lamented that it is not so well with them as itwould have been had misfortune not overshadowed us,--but I am not sosure of that. I believe that all external disadvantages will be morethan counterbalanced by the higher regard I have been led to take inthe development of what is good and true in their characters. I nowsee them as future men and women, for whose usefulness and happinessI am in a great measure responsible; and as my views of life havebecome clearer, and I trust wiser, through suffering, I am farbetter able, under all the disadvantages of my position, to securethis great end than I was before."
"But the way is hard for you--very hard," said Mrs. Endicott.
"It is my preparation for Heaven," replied the patient sufferer,while a smile, not caught from earth, made beautiful hercountenance. "If my Heavenly Father could have made the waysmoother, He would have done so. As it is, I thank Him daily for theroughness, and would not ask to have a stone removed or a roughplace made even."
THE END.
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