The recorded will, or, Truth and not fiction
page: (TitlePage) [View Page (TitlePage) ] THE RECORDED WILL: OR, TRUTH AND NOT FICTION; REMARKABLY ILLUSTRATING THE CARE OF DIVINE PROVIDENCE. BY A CLERGYMAN'S WIDOW. BOSTON: PUBLISHED BY TAPPAN & WHTTEMORE; JEWETT, PROCTOR & WORTHNGTON, CLEVELAND; A. WHTTEMORE & CO., MLWAUKIE; J. R. WHTTEMORE, CHLLICOTHE. 1855. page: [View Page ] Entered, according to Act of Congress, i the year 1854, by ANDOVER' JOHN STEREOTYER AND PRINTER. PREFACE. HAVING nearly reached the sunset of life, it is with diffidence the writer offers these plain, un- varnished facts, which have occurred in the long path-way of years--facts of which she has been cognizant; and to the truth of which, living wit- nesses can ,still attest. For their sakes, she has reverted to past scenes, yet within the memory, as well as for those in the morning of life; and if grateful recognition of the Divine Hand which has guided the- one class almost to the verge; and love and confidence be awakened in the other, just commencing life's journey, the object is accomplished. page: (Table of Contents) [View Page (Table of Contents) ] CONTENTS. Page. CHAPTER I. THE SNOW STORMY ....................................... 9 CHAPTER H. ToE POST OFFICE,.......4.... .............. ............. 16 CHAPTER II. SUIPMsTTON IN PAOCTICE ............. ....... ............. 23 CHAPTER IV. THE RECORDED WILL, .......... . ........ ....... 45 CHAPTER V. THE CEB, .................................... 66 CHAPTER VI. FIVE O:CLOCK IN THE DEPOT, ............................. 76 1 page: vi (Table of Contents) -vii (Table of Contents) [View Page vi (Table of Contents) -vii (Table of Contents) ] CONTENTS. vi Page, CHAPTER VIL. .le e eet e 81 PAST MEOSIES .............. . ,.......81 CHAPTER VII. TSa O ]PE, A , . ........... 92 CHAPTER IX. 101 TE WOBOESTEB COsTY BO,m- * * CHAPTER X. .....**-eeee 1" LoST OPPOTUNITIES, ................ , 1 1 HOTt i CHAPTER XI. I T E oT SUPPER ........ ...*...* * ..................121 CHAPTER XI, 136 ..................... '- 129 Tur, GARarf, CHAPTER XIV. TH GRDS,. . . . . . . . ........., 13 6 Ta, NIGMMEtS3o, o a......... -. 144 CHAPTER XV. EB 3LE ...... ,-, , , 151 THB RoESeO e e eee. I Ill'l tell llLIlt CHAPTER XVI. 159 Tim COVEA^XT1 , ,.,, .........5 m CONTENTS. * V Page. CHAPTER XVP I WHO CUT THAT Ro 1-6..... 2 CHAPTER XV!11. ALLEN'S SLAND ... * . ... e e e.... s*.** .. '* ** 167 OHAPTER XIX. CABS WAIT, .........,.... ........... i. . 1" CH"APTER XX. OUR FrATHERZ' ..... v O... . . O 4 ... . . fro. of's... 176 . CHArPTER XX WiAT IS THAT TQ E? ................ ,. 179 CHAPTER xxI I THE WASHEFRWOMAN,..... .. ** ******** * *,.. 184 CHAPTER XX I . FORTY IEARS A................... ..............******.*** 0.. .... 90 CHAPTER XXlT. TiE IwDIANSj ....................... . ..... *... 196 CHAPTER XXV. THE OLD RED PARSONAGE, ............... ...... 201 CHAPTER XX\L. TH}E BROTHERS' LEAaGUE,............,... ,, . ,.,, ., 205 page: viii (Table of Contents) -9[View Page viii (Table of Contents) -9] viin CONTENTS. Page. , CHAPTER XXVII. THaE DwBE, . ............ .... .........*..* .. 2" CHAPTER XXVU. MSSIONARIES' TRIALS, .............^..vo *.*.*****. l218 CHAPTER XXIXt. THEE STBNOERB1SE. . ...................,...... ..**.*** * 224 CHAPTER XXX. THE STREAM OF EMBtATION rT *........... .....,.. 229 CONCLUSION,.... ...... .... *.... 1***.**.*** ****,*******. 234*1 I j!h THE. RECORDED WILL. CHAPTER I. THE SNOW STORM. "WELL! how deep is the snow, on a level?" called James from his bed of spruce branches, as he lay in the miner's cabin in one of the deep gulches of the Sierra Nevada. "About ten feet," replied his brother, plung- ing his heavy cane into the huge drifts which had blocked them up, making further progress impossible to the poor invalid. "The clouds are breaking, and if you are not afraid to be left alone, we will beat our way to the store and get provisions, if possible.'" "I don't like camping here much longer with nothing to eat. I confess. Our last pint of page: 10-11[View Page 10-11] THE RECOBDED WILL. beans was divided for our breakfast. We mnay perish in the snow. We certainly shall die here." "How far is it to the store, Alfred?" said the sick boy. "About twelve miles. I hate to leave you, dear James," looking sorrowfully on the pale facewhich revealed deep lines of suffering and despondency. "It will be so lonely, and to leave you with othing to putinto your lips; but I hope to get back to-night. We will do our very best, so you wil cheer up, dear broth- er; keep a good heart!" In a short time the two young men were equipped in skins and woollen caps, ready to battle the storm which was again collecting its forces. Once more Alfred looked at his brother, struggling hard with the rising tear as he thought of his mother at home, and the solemn charge "never to leave his brother." "It must be right, I see nothing else to be done, poor J[ames. I fear we shall never meet again." The little tin cup of water stood near THE SN STO RM. for the parched lips, and alonejn that rugged cabin, with no earthly comfort, lay the feeble youth amidst the furious storm which blew thick and fast upon his unprotected bed. Snow flakes whirled into the lodge, hiding away in the folds of the blanket, but the branch- es cracked and blazed on the fire, and the in- valid long inured- to hardship, roused up his courage, determined to be as hopeful as possi- ble. / On went the travellers with brisk steps, but the few spoonfuls of bean soup was a sorry breakfast for the toilsome day's work. "Give me a lever, long enough, and I will move the world." "Give me a sufficient motive power, and I will accomplish all but impossibilities." ' Famine had looked into the lodge of the miners. A fortnight these young men had been shut up, waiting for the storm to cease. Pork and meal, flour and coffee, all gone! In such a wilderness who should bring relief.? Did travel- lers ever visit that deep gulch? page: 12-13[View Page 12-13] 12 THE RECORDED WILL. It was not well, to think much of home! The bean soup goes down easier when we for- get the spread table and white cloth, the deli- cious milk and white bread, the pies and cakes, the apples and peaches of happy New Eng- land. It was a terrible winter in California, such as had been unknown before, and this was one of the fiercest storms. The youths ppssed for- ward. Life or death was in the contest. Up the steep ascent they climbed, holding on to the branches of the snow-clad trees, and now at every step the snow became deeper. Often losing their way in the forest, where only blazed trees denoted the pathway, they wandered unavailingly for many a mile. At night worn out with toil and hunger. The store, made of logs, in the little settlement, was reached, but return was not to be thought of that night. Alfred slept but little; " my poor sick broth- er alone in that solitary valley!" Cc With what care have I nursed him these many months." THE SNOW STORM. 13 "How anxiously have I watched over him and gone from place to place, because he could not bear the climate, and after all I fear he will perish!" There are other watchers that night, besides Alfred, that think of the absent ones. Thousands of miles away, are restless pil- lows, pressed by aching heads, throbbing hearts, fearful anxieties "if it be well with the lads," help on the prayer of faith, and are power- ful forces to send it up to the throne of God. Prayers wafted the vessel that bore the pre- cious freight! Prayer few upon every breeze around Cape Horn. Prayer went down into the deep damp gulch and up to the mountain cliff Prayer looked into the lodge and stood by the side of the fainting boy. Mountains may rise and oceans roll, but, thank God! the swift wings of prayer can touch every spot of earth and lift every suffer- er up to the throne of God. Jemrmy is borne aloft during the days and page: 14-15[View Page 14-15] " THE RECORDED WILL. nights, on the incense of prayer, forever as- cending from the home altar. The storm ceases. The morning sun gilds the tree tops laden with the snowy fleece. It glances over the smooth untrod surface, but hours must pass before a single gleam can slant far down that dark declivity. The ravens brought no food, but Jemmy yet lives! Relief is near, though he knew it not, as he lay patiently enduring the weakness of hunger. The messenger stands on the topmost cliff. See! he descends! A traveller has lost his way in the darkness of the night, and the pelting storm. He is heavily burdened with supplies for a distant mining claim. He looks far down the steep, and sees the curling smoke from that pile of evergreens, and is attracted to the spot. So down, he slides, catching by boughs and roots. He unstraps his bag of flour and enters 'the lodge! The meal was quickly prepared on brief acquaintance, and the famished youth THE SNOW STORM. 15 was strengthened. Guest feeds guest and Jem- my is taken care of that day. Night comes again, but the cold is intense. Footsteps are heard close to the lodge. The young men have safely returned. Death was in the wild, and more than once looked them in the face. One of them fell down in the snow and begged to be left alone to die. But his companion dragged him on and roused him back to life. California! Land of the wretched and for- saken! Land of golden treasures and precious stones! Land of prayers and land of promise! The cradle of liberty and love! Science and religion! On every mountain top shall yet float the signal of the Prince of peace; and thy rich valleys shall echo songs of redeem- ing love! page: 16-17[View Page 16-17] CHAPTER II. THE POST OFFICE. WHAT is that young widow holding so tightly in her compressed hand? Why do tears course down her attenuated cheeks? Tidings from / the Post Office! Did you ever stop, dear read- er, to look at the throbbing pulses of the great 1; city for the first hour after the arrival of the i mail? A few lines on paper will turn the face to ashy paleness or flush it with hope and joy. Just walk down Main Street - take a peep into the stores. .See the countenance telling the ; story whether stocks rise ,or fall, whether a few thousands are gained or a few thousands lost! chu Whether flour is ten or five dollars the barrel. Look into the dwellings .froi the proud man- ! sion to the lowly cottage, and thank God for , * t X' THE POST OFFICE. 17 cheap postage, which allows friend to speak with friend in the poorest hovel. Hear the notes of joy which ring through the little shan- ty, as the letter brings the news of the arrival of the good ship Sally, which brings'the sailor home again. Joys come thick and fast with letters! Thick- er and faster do sorrows come! Many tears are shed, may hearts ache, with heavy burdens dropped into them from the last mail! Every day for a fortnight expectation had looked out of the window for this letter. The widow promised, and the hard creditor waited one day more! It came! It was to bring two hundred dollars; every cent of which had been wrung out of early hours and late hours, in incessant application of mind, thought, intel- lect- unwearied working of a delicate frame which enclosed a soul too highly sensitive for its position. The widow never murmured at the Hand which led her down into this low valley, from a home of ease, of comfort and elegance. Not 2e page: 18-19[View Page 18-19] 18 THE RECORDED WILL. one complaining word, that the gifted partner of her youth should be called in the very morn- ing to leave her; that all those talents which had so long been preparing for eminent service in the Master's vineyard should fall prema- turely into the grave. One anxious care alone absorbed her mind. Her little daughter, the cherished all, must be fed and clothed, nur- tured and educated. For this purpose she had bent her Way to the city of N. H., hoping in that celebrated nursery of literature, to estab- lish a school of a high order that would secure a living. Great effort made the school prosper. A thoroughly educated, kind, and earnest teacher was Mrs. I., and hbr scholars bore testimony to her worth by their affection and rapid; pro- gress. Every cup of life is mingled. Teachers have their trials, even the most successful. Many of the scholars were from abroad, chiefly from the South; payments were often uncertain, while rents, and other heavy expenses, were of THE POST OFFICE. 19 no doubtful character. But this letter with the two hundred dollars was one of the cer- tainties. It could not fail, for it was due from a very honorable gentleman. The landlord was assured that all should be shttled just the moment it arrived. Only forty' dollars were due on the building. It was most singular that with perfectly prompt payments heretofore, he could not wait a day or two patiently. The long expected letter arrived but no money, not a cent! A total failure -had occur- red. Nothing to hope. Clouds arise; the heavens become blackness-involved in debt, and no way to meet it! Pass over this paragraph, dear reader, if that long bill at the milliners is yet unpaid, or if the washer-woman has come in vain to your door to-night to get her just dues, for it would not disturb a fibre of your soul. It is intended for those only whose higher natures are sub. jected to the full meaning of the divine law Owe no man. Another call from the landlord, In few page: 20-21[View Page 20-21] 20. THE RECORDED WILL. words but severe, Mrs. I. was informed that no further delay would be permitted. This day the money must be forthcoming, or she would take the consequences. "Oh, mother!" said little Carrie, "how I wish dear father was back again to take care of us. It is so hard to live in this world." "Our Father leads us, Carrie. It is very dark now, but it will be brighter. We will try to trust Him with all our hearts." "Has the God of the widow forgotten me?" said Mrs. I., as she unconsciously turned away from her home to seek comfort and sympathy from a beloved friend who had just come to the city. What was it to her that the sun- light rays danced in the green foliage of the lofty elms? What were those gay equipages and smiling faces that glided by, to that bur- dened heart? What even those tall -hite monuments which meet her eye as her foot- steps naturally turn to the place of the dead- and what to her, that others find time to scat- ter flowers, over the grave of the beloved THE POST OFFICE. 21 sleeper? Nothing, just now. Toil and labor, cares and watchings, tears and sufferings, avert- ed looks and unfeeling words, lie in her path, poor widow; but cheer thee, desolate one. Sunbeams and smiles, promises and fulfilments, are there also. The widow's pathway, like the painter's studio, is lighted from above. Dark though it be, yet glorious pictures are hung up, revealing the future rest -the completion of future bliss. Many expedients were thought of by the two friends, as they walked up and down Chapel Street; but the difficulty still remains. The forty dollars must come to-day. "Bread shall be given, water shall be sure," said the friend. "Neither of us have a friend in the city to whom we can apply; I have not a copper to help you with. Hannah More says 'people think they are undone whi . they have no one but God to help them.' This is pre- cisely your case, my dear fwi;nd; we must look to Him for the forty dollars." The Post Office was not far out of the way; the young widow stepped in as she went home. page: 22-23[View Page 22-23] 22- THE RECORDED WILL. "A letter, surely. From Boston!"It is quick- ly opened -a bill drops out - she opens it. "Forty dollars. Is it possible?"It certainly is possible. Dr. Wisner has remitted a small sum from the Clergymen's widow and orphan's ftnd, to which she was entitled, her husband, at his death, being a settled pastor over a church in Massachusetts. That noble fund! What tears has it wiped away! It was stated that on one occasion a hun-. dred widows of ministers were found sustain- ing themselves entirely by their own exertions, and many of them entirely dependant on the aid of this Convention, and many others ex- tremely destitute. The golden bands of love are thrown around the church of Christ. The badge of every dis- ciple is love. The errand of the Son of God to( our world was love! Love is the air of heaven. Love touches the strings of every harp, and is the theme of the eternal song. I Love dwells in the bosom of every true dis- ciple the record of every faithful minister's THE POST OFFICE. 23 family kept above. It will soon be opened. It would not be amiss for the churches to in- quire what are we doing for the bereaved and afflicted? A youth was travelling from the New Eng- land states to the far west, away from friends and comforts -he was suddenly attacked by a violent fever. Consumed by the burning heat of a southern fever, in a miserable log house, no physician near; a good Samaritan in the shape of an Odd Fellow, found him. He was immediately removed to a comfortable dwel- ling, attendance of a nurse and physician se- cured; mother and sisters at home could have done no more; from the edge of the grave he was restored to health. Every bill paid, he went on his way rejoicing. Let us gather up useful hints as we pass along the way-side. A few months longer were necessary to perfect this gentle woman through suffering. Heavy rents went on as usual. Pecuniary losses - and at length, sickness, debility, wasted strength, were all workers together in the dis- cipline. page: 24-25[View Page 24-25] THE RECORDED WILL. One incident more must not be omitted, a similar fact to the foregoing; another debt of thirty dollars was incurred -the purse was empty, and no prospt of its being heavier at present. But the dun came in again, and again. Enfeebled by disease, which was rapidly carrying our lovely friend home, she laid the case upon her covenant-keeping God. She did- not look for a miracle, nor think once of the Post Office. But ministering angels may be hovering over the daily crowd around a Post Office as easily as they go any where. Cer- tain it was, that on leaving her chamber, as she descended the stairs, the door bell rings the post boy has a letter. Again it is from Dr. Wisner, and thirty dollars the sum en- closed. Christain, does God's angel stand near thy heart, suggesting some benevolent purpose? Hasten to obey the call. A thousand miles from your door, an open pathway may be seen from an agonized sufferer to the court of heaven. CHAPTER III. SUBMSSION IN PRACTICE. "How many have submitted to God," in th, late revival? said one christian friend to anW other. Submitted to God!" words easily spoken, a short, expressive sentence! Everybody uses it. Everybody knows what it means. "The young converts give up all!" time, tal- ents, opportunities, strength, influence all the way through life, very plain terms nothing obscure about it! ah yes --submission to. God is a lovely, blessed spot to reach-no wonder these young people are so happy. The only spot on earth where rest can be found. "'Submit to God" was the last text, the last sermon of one who lately dropped. down in perfect health into the arms of death, and who 3 page: 26-27[View Page 26-27] 26 THE REOORDED WILL. had learned through the period of sixty years, that it was a life-struggle, a daily struggle, a conquest with invisible powers, with selfishness, with inclination. Yet blessed be God, as his foot - was lifted to dip into the waters of Jordan, the closing words of the life-long instructions were, , "Submit to God!" as if the dark chasm about to open upon his surviving family had flung its deep shadows upon his spirit! What would sustain them in that low valley like these precious words? and ifrepeating them over, one spark is elicited like the strokes on the flint to light their dark way, the reader will ac- company them through the few thoughts which have been suggested.; I have stood by many death-beds, but I think of but few who have said, "There is no spot in the universe where God can lead me that I shall be unhappy, for where He is, it is enough!" - The painter selects with care the appropriate crude color. He grinds it down with cheerful, patient labor, then mixes the colors and pre- SUBMSSION IN PRACTICE. 27 pares the tint till the exact shade is produced to throw life upon the canvas. To the superficial, this world is a confused and disordered medley. But to the eye of In- finite wisdom, the upheavings and overturnings are but to bring out at last the final and grand result. Let us survey life as it is, and see if in the deep chasm through which we are walking, there may not be occasion to rejoice rather than weep; and if, by lifting a voice whose echoes may reach some other afflicted traveller, we shall have been led thither in vain. I knew a young man,who entered the minis- try with eager hopes and high expectations of usefulness, uniting great energy of purpose with a strong physical constitution. God blesses his labors. Listening crowds hang up- on his words--conviction and conversion fol- low--success attends him wherever he goes. He gathers the rich harvests where others have labored in vain. In the full tide of popularity suddenly he is seized with acute rheumatism, page: 28-29[View Page 28-29] 28 THE RECORDED WILL. which takes him by both hands and leads him into his chamber, where he is to lie thirty years. In the pulpit he was something; in the sick room he learns that he is nothing, but "Christ is all." The past and future rise before him, and the point of all others which he loved to press on the youthful heart -- Submit- to God," stands up before his own soul. "Oh, said he, I could preach and labor for my Saviour cheerfully, but can H must I lie here to suffer?" " Yes, years roll away heavily when the body is racked with pain, but still' he lies there - the limbs paralyzed, the sight gone, but. the soul etrong and clear as she sits imprisoned in the ruined tabernacle. "Mystery of mysteries, to Iay aside such a worker!" The impatient spirit becomes subdued like a little child; but it never ceases its work of love-the chamber becomes a resort for Christians of every name. They go to sympa- thize, to: leave their offerings for the poor suf- ferer, and to strengthen,their own faith. They " 29 SUBMSSION IN PRACTICE. never forget the scene; the tortured limbs and sightless eye-balls teach them gratitude and patience with an emphasis. The thoughts go there to wonder and pity; but never do they leave without a tender admonition. The in- quirer resorts to this sick room to learn the way to life. From that hallowed spot arose the incense of prayer, in an unbroken column. There, was the gate of heaven. How often have I stood by the patient sufferer and queried whether he could have done half the service for his Saviour, had he been permitted to labor with perfect health. The providence of God furnished an alms- man for all his wants. A benevolent friend supplied every comfort from year to year,-and it was noticeable that when at last the joyful and longed for release by death arrived, his friend had finished his labor of love also -and the giver and receiver ascended to heaven al- most together. I was acquainted with one of that little page: 30-31[View Page 30-31] 30 THE RECORDED WILL. number who thought it so "easy to submit to God"-" but; with her, it was a coridial and cheerful surrender, because she could never remember when she would not give the world almost to be a Christian. All she thinks of or wishes for, is work for Christ; and there is enough of this to do, and so she moves on happy in friends, happy in aims, and hopes, and joy, and peace -happy too, in a union with one so nearly perfect and coimplete, so fitted to all her wishes and tastes, that she has reached the ultimatum - there remains little to be cared or wished for besides. In a moment, from that height of earthly bliss she was tecipitated. God called her friend to a higher ministry, to a loftier sphere. The stroke was terrible submission to God was yet to be learned by slow and agonized steps; but the sufferer was ignorant of the fact, that this incipient process of discipline, was a kind preparation for the future life-work- to instruct her how to sympathize in all bereave- ments, how to console all sorrowful ones. How SUBMSSION IN PRACTICE. 31 to stand by the death-beds which were to be strewed along her path, and where to direct the dying eye. The Saviour wants many comforters in his family. How can he prepare the stony mate- rials of the natural heart so well as in the refining and painful school of discipline? And who shall say that the streams of love which shall flow out of this bitter sorrow to the deso- late and afflicted, to the widow and orphan, to the poor and needy, may not swell to a river of comfort, forever refreshing her own soul. It is wonderful in the kingdom of grace, how quickly the reaper overtakes the sower. Pre- sent doing is present blessing. We never undertake to arraign the wisdom of Divine Providence in the more favored and prosperous illustrations, particularly if they concern ourselves. We are quite delighted to see them take up some feeble instrumentality of our own; and appropriate it in the woiling out some stupendous design-- let us look at a case: A youth in an eastern city,* of noble and * The late Henry Homes. page: 32-33[View Page 32-33] 32 THE RECORDED WILL. generous impulses, but thoughtless, gay, and pleasure-seeking, as he is preparing for the theatre, happens to take up a tract brought hither from England. He glances over its pages, and the story of the Shepherd of Salisbury Plain awakens thought. Poverty and contentment, peace and happiness, is the lot of the humble Shepherd, while he is ever pursuing a bubble which he can never grasp. The little thought grew strong and filled his soul. Restless and unhappy, he looked round for some Christian to guide him; but failing in this, he left the city and journeyed far into the country to converse with a man who could show him the way to Christ. The youth re- turned back another man. He has found an object, an aim, a purpose- and to it, life is to be consecrated. - His partner in business be- holds the change, and it is not long before he likewise becomes a Christian. Both enterprise ing young men, and greatly prospered; both truehearted disciples. As a little tract led them to Christ, so it shall be the opening chan- SUBMSSION IN PRACTICE. 33 nel of a stream which is to become a swelling river. Every bundle of goods folded up on tile counter contains a tract, every transient customer is presented with a tract. Christian principle controls the business operations. For- eign confidence to any amount is secured. Times, which shake the strongest firms, only throws business into their store. In the mean time, the young merchants are often called into the country. When they travel to do business, you may mark their way by a track of heavenly light; tract societies spring up, bibles are distributed, the poor and destitute know the firm. Year after year they work for Christ, and he takes care of them. Their names are woven into every benevolent enterprise, are remembered at family altars in every missionary station, are uttered with grateful tears, by hundreds of God's afflicted children at home; and though both have long since gone to hear the "well done good and faithful," yet their names are embalmed in grateful memories. s page: 34-35[View Page 34-35] 34 THE RECORDED WILL. We gaze with admiration at such a picture, so lovely, so cheerful, and we wish that every movement of God's Providence were encircled in'such a halo of light. But let us remember, that the problem of a lost world's salvation was wrought out through suffering. It is charming to look at the almoners of God's love, at the ministering angels scattered here and there over the surface of society - their names are known; endeared, lamented, as they ascend one after another, and we ask, with anxiety, who will catch the falling man- tle? But in eternity we shall learn whether they who come out of great tribulation, and had washed their robes in the blood of the Lamb, were not equally as necessary, and equally as honored in the divine machinery.. The morning was bright and joyous, as a young, blooming girl stood upon the steps of the old mansion, receiving the farewell em- braces of father, mother, sisters, brothers, friends and neighbors. Kind wishes mingling with parting tears, smiles and sorrows joining SUBMSSION IN PRACTICE. 35 hands; the young bride turned resolutely away, as the firm hand led her forth from the shade of those tall trees, under which she had been nurtured and cherished. She turned away from the tenderness and love of the fireside- home - from family songs and family prayers, from brothers and sisters, from the overflowing board and pleasant friends, leaving, oh, how much, for one heart, one friend, one companion! Mysterious and divine arrangement! Which, when rightly fulfilled, invariably sacrifices the less to-the greater happiness, to the higher sphere, to the more exalted purpose and social welfare. God sets the solitary in families; He alone could have scattered these little circles of love, intended to be a miniature heaven. Beautiful order in the established law of family ties, making every house a home, which would redeem the world from half its curse and half its misery, if man would only have it so. The young wife was right in deeming it no loss to give away all for one faithful heart. page: 36-37[View Page 36-37] 36 THE RECORDED WILL. God intended it should be always gain, and thousands have found it gain. . : She entered upon her new relation with a heart rich enough for a prince, but alas, he who took the jewel, never had the power or the disposition to know its value. Soon the light fleecy clouds paled the sunny rays of the wedding morning-then grew dark and still darker, and Mary discovered that she had thrown herself away; all her home- treasures, all her life-joys and hopes, away henceforth all would be loss. , At first the high spirit that had at the altar of God in early youth, professed entire submis- si8n to His will, stood erect and ,firm to meet the coming storm, but the delicate frame-work could not so easily endure. Intemperate in- dulgence induced unkindness, indolence led on, accompanied by occasional extravagance, to complete the ruin; and he, who was to be the staff and support of that fair young girl, was in a few years a hopeless and helpless drunkard. Did Mary sink into gloom and melancholy { SUBMSSION IN PRACTICE. 37 as she surveyed her darkened home, lighted by no smiles of tenderness, comforted by no hu- man sympathies, as she trod the cold bare floor after the sheriff had left it, stripped of all but ,the mere necessaries for existence? No, Mary knew there was power in Divine Grace to lift the lowest and strengthen the feeblest; the bruised reed felt the. presence of an invisible Hand, and was sustained. Even the fated se- cret was long concealed from the affectionate mother, but when it was at length discovered, what grief wrung the hearts at home. It was insupportable, and Mary must at all events be again sheltered beneath the father's roof. It is enough to say, that the afflicted sufferer was once more in the dear old mansion; but great lessons had been learned in the night of weep- ing. Ineffable sweetness and love pervaded the character. Baptized with sufferings, she had meekly followed the footsteps of the Sa- viour, till, like him, she was becoming perfect through sufferings. She moved like a being of another life - the fiery trial had consumed the 4 page: 38-39[View Page 38-39] 3.8 THE RECORDED WILL. dross of selfishness, she lived for others in peaceful, calm retreat of entire submission, till she was translated from earth to the world for which she was prepared. With one more illustration of peifect sub- mission to the Divine will, we close our chap- ter. Let us enter this little cottage. The embers are covered over, the great loom stands in the corner, with its web of cloth nearly finished, the shuttles are laid up for the night, the chil- dren sleeping quietly; five little pairs of shoes in a row, with miniature coats and frocks hang- ing about the room the dresser covered with bright dishes, and a few chairs and a table, all leaving marks of comfort, industry, and ex- treme neatness. A pleasant little picture, all but- for that grief-stricken one ffom whose hands a newspaper has this moment fallen. "Let us look into it. "Lost! In the Indian Ocean, ship Barstow, Capt. Alden, foundered, captain and crew all lost+" . . SUBMSSION IN PRACTICE. 39 That paragraph hurled the stunning blow, and in an instant the whole world has dropped away, and she is alone. Widowhood! Who may name thy unuttered meaning? Who may imagine thy perfect desolation. All, all is gone. The husband and the father, the owner of the little vessel, the product of years of toil and industry, all swept beneath the foamigx billows. "Oh, that the grave would cover me also," was the bitter groan of despair. The pillow was not pressed by the aching temples thatm night, but with the dawn more cheerful thoughts arose - something yet to live for- much to be done by the single arm to feed and clothe these little ones. Time and labor come to her aid, to dispel the gloom. She cannot afford to be idle; so the wheel ahd the loom went to work faster than ever. The cloth was cut into garments for the sailor, woman's chief employmnent this, for the needle, on the south- ern shores of Massachusetts. The garments were made and ready for market. A kind neighbor loaned a horse to the poor widow, page: 40-41[View Page 40-41] THE RECORDED WILL. and she took her way to N. B. But what to do on her arrival, was the question. On entering the city, two young gentlemen were leisurely walking down Main Street, when our poor friend ventured to call from behind her great bundle, "Can you tell me, sirs, where to go to dispose of sailors' clothes?" "Well, mother,' replied one of them, "I'll tell you, there's my uncle, the banker, keeps down in Water Street, No. 9; he is the man to buy your traps." Slowly, and with difficulty, the poor widow found Water Street, and tied her horse before the elegant block of bank build- ings. What did she know of practical jokes? Up the stone steps went the great bundle, and with some trepidation, she knocked. A smart clerk opened the- door, and ushered her into the presence of a mild, elderly gentleman, who was sitting at a table writing. He looked up in surprise, and instantly rose to meet her. "Oh, I've made a great mistake," the flush suf- fusing her cheek. "Do excuse me, sir." It was all true, that Uncle Ben was the man for the occasion. The great philanthropist R. was never happier than when sorrow stood before him, which he could relieve. The Providence of God on whom she had cast her heavy bur- dens, could make use of a city wag in accom- plishing a purpose of kindness, as well as any other instrument. Uncle Ben's fine eye lit up with sympathy at once. It was enough to see distress. He never waited for argu- ment. "Sit down, my friend, you are fatigued. Tell me your errand and who sent you here." The short story was quickly told; when, to her sur- prise, she learned that the stranger to whom she had been led, was the person whose name had often been spoken with love and gratitude, by her late husband. "A worthy man, indeed, was Capt. B.; he sailed in my employ many years, and I am happy to serve you- I will take all your garments, and you may bring me as many as you can make." Here was a sure employment, good pay, and a true friend, raised up for the trusting widow. 4* page: 42-43[View Page 42-43] 42 THE RECORDED WILL. And thus are God's almoners scattered up and down the valley of tears, with the inscription on their foreheads "greatly beloved." They breathe the air of heaven, and wear its im- press. He sends his widows and his orphans to them, forthey are in celestial partnership, co-workers with Infinite Love. The children were all educated. They took their places as useful and influential members of society, guid- ed by the wise and prudent, instruction of so good a mother. It was in the evening of a long life, that I became acquainted with the widow B.; she had been residing with a married daughter fif- teen years, from whom these particulars were obtained. Most of her time was passed in her little room, with her bible and her knitting- work, having, through the infirmities of age, become unable to go out much, or engage in active duties. It was a rich treat to sit by her side and lis- ten to the strong, clear thoughts' gathered up out of the varied discipline of years; purified , SUBMSSION IN PRACTICE. 43 and refined for the higher temple, pervaded by the bible-spirit, and rejoicing in bible-prom- ises. The last time I saw her, the following conversation occurred, which was so. remark- able, that I committed it to paper in her very words. "'Well, my dear friend, I am glad you still live to pray; the continuance of an aged pilgrim on earth is an unspeakable blessing." "So far as that is concerned," she replied, "I have no wish - no wish in the world; nor do I desire to wish, lest I might want something which would not be agreeable to His will." "No wish," thought I - " no wish?" "I can think of no place in the universe where I should be unhappy, for where He is, there is bliss; and where He is, there am I. I am willing to live just so long as He pleases, and go when He calls me. I often think I should love to die all alone in my little room, with none but God." Not long after this, as the venerable saint was walking across the room, she fell and was laid upon her bed. The call was heard, and -.1$ , , page: 44-45[View Page 44-45] "44 THE IRECORDED WILL. tears of rapture expressed her joy, that "the time had arrived for her to go home." Submission to God is indeed the life-lesson, but let none imagine that it cannot be attained out of the furnace. It is every where pro- fessed-it should be every where possessed. Let us inquire, with earnestness, how far we understand and practise it. Let us carefully examine its ability to cure every anxious foreboding, every fearful and desponding thought, to stop every impatient and fretful word, to bring into perfect content- ment and serenity the whole being, as truly in the sunshine of prosperity as in the wild tem- pest of adversity. ,J CHAPTER IV. THE RECORDED WILL. IN a small neat building in High Street, in the city of Portsmouth, a middle, aged man, the father of a family, lay upon his death-bed! He was a teacher of youth, and for many years had gathered up the affections of the children, and secured the grateful love of the parents. He was moreover, one of the few who carry about an ear for all sorrow, an eye to notice all suffering, a great soul ever ready to sympa- thize and relieve., Let us enter this house of mourning! we need not fear to do so. The strong man is in- deed laid low. The face is but slightly furrow- ed, the cheek round and full, the eye yet page: 46-47[View Page 46-47] " THE RECORDED WILL. speaks, those broad shoulders could have strug- gled on with life's burdens many a year. But the call is "Leave!" A motley group have gathered around him. The poor have come to bless him as he departs. The sick whom he comforted have risen from their beds to look once more upon his face. At the pillow sits the governor of the State, bending his ear to catch every whisper. A few words fall faintly but forcibly. "Leave thy fatherless children; I will preserve them alive, and let thy widows trust in' me!" Around the weeping family are many om- forters. Some from the lowly, and others from the higher paths of life. The children too, steal in with beating hearts, and creep to the bed-side to take the cold hand of their teacher. One word to each, to all; closing with the memorable promise "Leave thy fath- - erless, etc." The young wife, yet in her beauty, sits like marble as she gazes on the coming desolation. A pet lamb in her father's house, cherished like * v / THE RECORDED WILL. 47 a dove, knowing nothing of trouble, of care, of labor, and but little of a sinful world, she gave her young affections to one much older than herself, but who very well knew the value of the treasure. Friends retire. The sufferer is fatigued, but still there is one duty more. Last words must now be spoken. "The bitterness of death must now be passed." Few words but emphatic, and though all tried to listen, the swelling waves of grief rose too high for the feeble utterance; but in the strange tumult of breaking hearts, the voice rose again above all, - Leave thy fatherless children, I will preserve them alive, and let thy widows trust in me." The breath grew shorter. The. strong mai bowed. The spirit went home! The solemn preparations for a New England funeral, and the condolence of friends softened for a few hours the stunning blow. But after all was-over, dust laid to dust, ceremonies finished, and the mourners returned to the page: 48-49[View Page 48-49] 48 THE RECORDED WILL. silent dwelling where the echoes of every foot- fall remind them that death has come in, and death has gone out, taking away their earthly all! presents a scene to be passed over, for no pen has reached the reality. Everywhere they are witnessed in this world of the dying. Everywhere is widowhood. Everywhere or- phans. The morning dawns upon the sleepless mother, but with it a ray of light penetrated the darkness of her soul. "Nothing remains to us, but that dying legacy. I must examine it. Let me take down the parchment. How does it read? Leave thy fatherless children, I will preserve them alive, and let thy widows trust in me.' Is this promise well attested? Will it stand? Is it safe? Oh, yes! for here is the seal of a God. This will is recorded and executed in the court of heaven. I am safe! I am provided for!" The mother meets the orphans, and they are glad to see the dimpled smile on her face once more. She has found a great inheritance. She THE RECORDED WILL. 49 is like one who dreams, but, thank God, not to awake to disappointment. A few days pass away, she is peaceful, though very sorrowful. She may weep, for Jesus did. She looks upon Willie*her oldest boy, a slender child whose thoughtful mind has given promise of early distinction. A shadow passes. "This child I had hoped to educate; he al- ways said," "Mother! I must be a minister; my grandpa was one, and my father was almost one, and I Mill not be anything else." No! that hope is also quenched. The swelling waves were com- ing over the soul. She thinks again of the parchment, "I iill trust it." The door bell rings. It is only a friend. A fiew kind words of greeting and the gentle tones thus express themselves: "Mrs. T', your beloved husband was highly appreciated by his numerous friends. We feel greatly indebted to him for the affectionate care he took of our children, and the excellent prin- ciples he inculcated." * The late William B. Tappan. page: 50-51[View Page 50-51] 5Q, THE RECORDED WILL. "A few of his friends beg your acceptance of this trifle, for your comfort." The gentleman retired, leaving in the wid- ow's hand a purse containing seven hundred dollars. We will not attempt to portray the grateful tears of joy and thanksgivings that rose from the widow's heart, that God had in- deed begun to answer the prayer of faith. Seven hundred dollars is a great sum where there is nothing, but it will not do everything. Turn it which way you will, it cannot educate Willie. That thought which has been growing twelve years must be abandoned. This was the second grief. riends now came to advise. They looked at the- pale-faced boy. "He is not strong. He must not be put to hard labor. He is very ingenious; just look at those neat little toys he has made with his penknife. Willie must be a mechanic. It is never best to cross the inclination of children." Still he is young to be sent away from home, and such a tender hearted thing. But necessity is a stern ruler, So Willie must go. ' Clock THE RECORDED WILL. 51 M ng is an excellent business, and there is fst the place for him in Boston." There must be separations in this world, so Willie is put in the stage, and with his great swelling heart and delicate frame, goes forth to do battle with principalities and powers. Be comforted, poor mother. -It is not in vain that you have sat for hours with that little boy at your side, pouring into his thirsty soul the story of the cross, and the incidents of bible history, from beginning to end. He takles it all with him to Boston, to the work- shop; and though his mother's teachings are exchanged for the profane jest, and coarse rib. aldry, and vicious examples of his associates, yet the little seed dropped into a good soil. The family is soon dispersed. Kind friends spread the sheltering wing over orphan daughters, and one little boy remainsith the mother. Years hasten on, as they do now. The chil- dren grow up. The daughters are married, ( page: 52-53[View Page 52-53] ,a: 52 THE RECORDED WILL. and now the future home is secured for the widow with them. Till this date, however, the little purse has never failed to provide for all real wants. A thousand links in the chain of Divine Provi- dence helped it on. Tiny streams supplied the little river as it flowed on, and it never dried. Friends came, and friends departed, leaving drops of -balm, and words of comfort, along the , pathway of solitary years. The parchment was good yet, not a word failed. The children all lived, and were doing well. But a cloud arises! The country is in bat- tle array. Commercial interests are thrown into confusion. Banks are failing; two of them hold a precious deposit from that same little purse. The remainder is loaned where it can- not be collected. The cruise of oil will surely fail now. Not so, exactly! A son-in-law undertakes to be financier, and with great skill and perseverance, succeeds -in collecting from the four winds of heaven, THE RE-CORDED WILL. 53 the scattered papers, and finds, that of the original sum, five hundred dollars remain. No trifling affair this to a clergyman in the coun- try, who, sooner or later, finds his own family often sending him to the Great Legacy Giver, to find out " wherewithal they shall be clothed." Seventeen years longer the five hundred remained good, administering to every little want of the good mother and aged pilgrim, who was fast approaching the celestial gate. Suddenly, and with but little notice, she breathed herself away in a song of praise. In her sweet singing days, she often desired to be permitted to sing in the dying hour: "I'll praise my Maker with my breath." It was even so. No words can paint the peaceful close! Forty years she was a widow, sustained by that little offspring of love dropped into her hand over the fresh grave of her husband. Most of the kind donors are in the upper courts, but on the walls of those golden pal- Se, K page: 54-55[View Page 54-55] 54 THE RECORDED WILL. aces, they see inscribed their faithful memory of the widow and the orphan. We have not yet done with little Willie. We left him bound an apprentice to a clock- maker. He is now sixteen, a tall, fragile youth, has learned his business perfectly, is accounted a steady, active, industrious lad, of quick per- ceptions, and bids fair to do well in the world. But how few imagine the deep under-current in the soul, bearing forward high hopes, long- ing aspirations, wedded to his books, thirsting for knowledge. The fingers are trained to ad- just nicely the delicate machinery, while the busy thoughts leap forward, far beyond the little shop. To be a minister of Christ was his first wish, and he-had not yet buried the grief of disap- pointed hope. He panted for knowledge, and he obtained it. Surrounded by the worst in- fluences, this love of books, together with the cherished memories of his mother's tender in. structions, and his father's counsels, saved him from yielding to temptation. "I was preserv- THE RECORDED WILL. 55 ed," he often remarked, "from 'the terrible evil of vicious companions, as by a miracle. I never could understand why it was that I did not fall into open vice." After the daily toil was ended, the candle was always exhausted in his chamber over his books. The pen and ink always stood at his side, waiting to take fresh thoughts from the busy mind, while the hands worked out the clock. And over the tools commenced the verse-making process, which though at first sent out rough and unmusical numbers, yet, in time, gave to the weary Christian, "There is an hour of peaceful rest, To mourning wanderers given; There is a joy for souls distressed, A balm for every wounded breast, 'Tis found above -in heaven." And, also, "'Tis midnight! and on Olive's brow The star is dimmed that lately shone." page: 56-57[View Page 56-57] 56 THE RECORDED WILL. In that little shop, over those tools, com- menced the tiny spark which, a few years later, fired the soul that burst forth in pro- phetic strains, amid' the total darkness brood- ing over the Pacific isles. "Wake! Isles of the South, your redemption is near l No longer repose on the borders of gloom; The strength of his chosen in love will appear; And light shall arise on the verge of the tomb." But our special object is to mark the foot- steps of God's Providence, and not to portray character. Too much of this is often done. Too little recognition of the unseen Hand is every, where noticed in this God-forgetting world. During these long, tedious years, other edu- cators -have lent their aid. Furnished with a remarkable memory, in connection with strong appreciation of character, and the gift of elo- quence, our young friend lost no opportunity of hearing the best speakers. Every Sabbath, without fail, saw him wending his way over THE RECORDED WILL. 57 Boston Neck, to attend public worship, and also, of gratifying his taste in hearing the most distinguished preachers, who were at this pe- riod, stars of brilliant magnitude. Educators, we say, for how true it is, that eager and fixed attention to sermons on the: Sabbath, is one of the choicest instruments of strengthening the intellect. Our young friend has reached twenty years. With a full knowledge of his business, -and an unsullied reputation; by the cordial consent of his employer, he goes to Philadelphia to com- mence operations, hoping to gain the means for a further education. The conflict, how- ever, with what seemed the very laws of his being, could not last long. Money-making was distasteful and irksome- as a means simply to an end. In a few years clock-making was forever abandoned, for the profession of a teacher of youth. The& taste for writing poetry, was no longer confined by the rigid industry of a work- shop, and so volume after volume went to the page: 58-59[View Page 58-59] 58 THE RECORDED WILL. press, bearing unmistakable evidence of real poetical genius, cramped and fettered by the sad deficiencies of education. Kind friends covered up the faults and cher- ished the growing talent. Ministers and Chris- tians welcomed the sacred breathings of the young bard, whose spirit seemed naturally to hover around the cross, long before he wore the badge of discipleship. Years pass on. Willie is a husband -and a father, with a partner of his choice, and a home of his ardent love. But a cloud has spread over the bright horizon. The cares and anxie- ties, incident to a rising family, have pressed too heavily upon his susceptible nature. He could struggle cheerfully with the world alone; but here were the dearest objects of love, to suffer with him. Despondency came to sit at his heart, to turn him away from the Bible, to doubt the care of the orphan's God, to give up the family altar, to disbelieve everything, to rush to amusements in the shape of light literature, to forget the , f THE RECORDED WILL. 59 future and. live only for to-day; were succes- sive steps down to the dark and hopeless valley upon whose steep sides every where is hung out the signal --"No God." But William had not reached the bottom. The mother's tears fall on the old parchment at home. A messenger is on the way to save, him. The youngest brother, whose hand, in' early youth, had trustingly touched the golden links of Divine Providence, and was led on by gentle steps to the ministry, now came from a distant State to visit him. The joyfulmeeting of the brothers was soon saddened by the painful discovery, that he who could send forth such melody for others, had hung his own harp upon the willows. No family altar- no family songs of praise to God! Hopeless, restless, dejected, gloomy, he stood on the fearful slope with thousands of our youth, who forget the covenant of their God. And yet the external life was so pure and blameless, that no one doubted his chris- tianity. page: 60-61[View Page 60-61] 60 THE RECORDED WILL. Much conversation passed during the short visit. A sermon of his father's, in manuscript, was providentially brought in his brother's trunk. William was delighted to receive the precious relic. He opened it. The subject was the certainty of future punishment. It was read aloud to the family. The voice had come from that distant grave he had so often visited in his youth; over which so many tears had been dropped and so many lines written. From the spirit-world it spoke and was heard. Old remembrances rushed up great swelling thoughts- the dying scene, the peaceful close, the strong faith, the memorable purse, the mother's prayers; and mingled with them, the affectionate entreaties of his younger brother. Next morning they parted, but the heavenly balm is left behind; the sting will soon be ex- tracted, the wound healed. William goes moodily to his school, arranges his classes, opens his desk, takes out the unfin- ished novel, and tries to forget that rankling arrow. It was a wretched day. He goes / THE RECORDED WILL. 61 home, at night, and seeks his pillow. At mid- night he awoke in most terrible anguish, cov- ered with perspiration. His wife, alarmed, asked the cause, and as soon as he could recover himself, he, related the following dream - "I thought I was walking in a subterranean passage, winding its almost interminable way through lovely lawns and dells, with every variety of hill and dale, stream and water-fall, and with every object to delight. the eye and ravish the heart. Before me glided a figure exceedingly beautiful, leading me on as by a spell of enchantment. I could not turn my eyes away from her bewitching influence, nor did I desire to do it. On, on, I followed, till in a moment, to my horror, I discovered that I stood upon the brow of an overhanging pre- cipice. Over it I must go. In the agony of my soul I turned my eye, and close to my side stood a Being of ineffable beauty and glory, such as had never entered my imagination to conceive. 6 -x page: 62-63[View Page 62-63] 62 THE RECORDED WILL. The heavenly sweetness of that countenance, mingling majesty and love, can never fade away. He spoke to me in accents of kind- ness. "That figure which leads you on is the de- stroyer of your soul. Another step, and you are lost! Come to me, and your are safe! 9 I rushed into his open arms-I was deliv- ered from my dreadful foe. In the morning William arose, and tried to shake off the strange vision of the night. He went to his school, again sought the book which failed yesterday to amuse, and had scarcely opened it, when, to use his own words, ' the question came with singular power, will you return that book to the library?" "I will," said I, and handed it to a scholar to be in- stantly returned. This day was still worse. The dream, the figure, the yawning gulf, the Divine Person, each stood up by turns. "Deep unto deep ut- tered its voice," and the billows rolled- over his soul. THE RECORDED WILL. 63 In a letter, he soon after wrote, he says, "at tea-table, that evening, I heard Dr. Wilson's church-bell. I sprang up, took my hat, rushed into the street, "It was preparatory lecture. I took my seat in the.- pew. ,'The Dr. rose, and when he commenced his sermon, the text was, "Come unto me all ye who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest." "The Dr. went on to describe the being who uttered these words, and it was the very same I saw in my sleep. cIt is He! It is He!' I ex-. claimed, the Deliverer, the Saviour. He was all ready for me, and I was ready for him. I became his- entirely and forever, as I sat alone in the pew. "I went out of church a new man. How lightly I walked the streets that night; nlever was evening so tranquil, never stars so bright, never was creation so lovely. All-my life I have been under delusion, and this may be an- other still; but I will never part with this. page: 64-65[View Page 64-65] " THE RECORDED WILL. Too happy, I returned to my home, that my dear wife might share the blessedness. "Next day I called on Dr. Wilson, and pro- posed myself for admission to his church. He received me with the kindest greeting, for he had long wished it, so little did he know how far I had strayed away." Thus was William led fully home to the Saviour. Step by step, did he afterward reach the ultimatum of his ardent, early hopes. He stood upon the walls of Zion, and preached that Saviour to whom he gave himself in the pew. His genial nature, lovely countenance, and engaging manners, made him the children's friend, the children's preacher. They loved him, and they reared a monument to his mem- ory when he had finished his beloved work. Faithfully he labored in the vineyard-well did he execute the trust in the sabbath school department, till, at the age of fifty-two, he sud- denly left his earthly work, and was called home. The promise was fulfilled to the letter. rTHE RECORDED WILL. 65 The God of the fatherless not only "preserved him alive," but honored him as an instru- ment of winning many souls to Christ. 16' page: 66-67[View Page 66-67] CHAPTER V. THE CLERK. "THE greatest safeguard to a young man, is the society of intelligent and virtuous young ladies." A very trite aphorism, but none the less acceptable because it was uttered by a worthy friend who had tested its truth in his own experience. Young ladies saved me from ruin" said he. "Cultivate by all means ac- quaintance with a few good girls of the right stamp, and they will be the making of you, my good fellow." " Good advice," thought James, "not the least objection in the world to good girls -the more of them the better." Our country friend is now a clerk in a very respectable dry goods store in Main Street. A fine looking lad, and acceptable to his employ- ers, faithful, active and diligent, with a salary just sufficient to clothe and board him. Twenty-five or thirty dollars seems a large sum for clothing. Besides, his trunk is nicely filled with all sorts of useful garments to begin with, furnished by the kind mother and sisters who are now hundreds of miles away. "James," said his employer, after a week or two, "you do not dress quite well enough for your position. I like to have my clerks look gentlemanly. I will furnish you at first cost, ready made garments. Come with me, afid we will select a suit rather more in style." James looks surprised, but says nothing. He soon however returns, recoated, vested, citified, but not more satisfied than with his good brown suit fresh from the country store. James is very observing. He notices the other clerks; is not a whit behind them in brushing and polishing. Trys to keep his wardrobe in good repair. Buttons off, and rips often, make frequent demands on the little page: 68-69[View Page 68-69] 68 THE RECORDED WILL. salary. But James is economical - remembers advice on this point, is determined not to get into debt, at all events. The ladies are pleased with James -so obliging and attentive. They call often. He is really getting custom and friends too, and female friends just as the good old gentleman advised him, very respectable young ladies, with whom he became acquainted at the board- ing house. Evening walks, these hot moonlight nights, are so refreshing to the- poor tired clerk. Thompson's Saloon is not far. Ice creams! Soda water! Bonbon's confectionary! Deli- cious fruits. The ladies are so heated, and look eagerly to the tempting windows. Everybody takes ice cream this hot weather. They all walk in. The ladies call for what they desire, and James pays the bill. A couple of dollars for oie evening. A little startling, to be sure. "How am I to get money for such occasions?" This is the first trial. Has our young friend principle strong enough to forego society--is * I THE CLERK. 69 his honesty of so sturdy a growth, that it can endure to be called mean and selfish? If not, if these light waves of temptation cannot be resisted manfully, courageously, James will surely be swept away in the fierce storms of life. A clerk is a sort of automaton behind the counter- a piece of mechanism which hands down goods, cuts off the articles, folds up, lays away neatly, changes money, carries home your package. He is part of the establishment. At night, when customers are all gone, he returns the tumbled goods to their places, restores order and neatness, then locks the door, puts the key in his pocket, and begins his day, his only time for recreation and amuse. rent. His boarding-house, often uncomfort- able, food ;unpalatable, bread sour, could not relish any thing, wishes he had a bowl of mother's bread and milk; so tired standing all day, and running down street twenty times with bundles, feels such an empty craving, thinks he must take a drop of something strengthening. Can't help it -I'm so faint- I page: 70-71[View Page 70-71] 70 THE RECORDED WILL. guess mother would not object, if she knew how bad I felt. Gay flutterers of fashion, as you sit at ease de- ciding the shade of color which is to grace your lovely persons, do you ever dream of the heavy weights you lay upon young shoulders, or the aching limbs which stand all the long day be- hind the counters? People from the country, look at these spa- cious brick houses amid trees and shrubbery, owned by rich merchants, once country boys. "Very rich, got it all by trading." Nothing seems easier. They look around for a good place for Charley. A prosperous firm wants a boy-just the thing excellent chance; he'll be as rich as any of them one of these: days. Mother fears a good deal. Charley is a good boy, but his principles are all untried. Will they stand? She thinks of the good instruc- tions of years of loving childhood-- thinks of evening prayer and nightly kiss; puts a bible into his trunk, and Charley promises to read it. She will write to him often, and she will ever THE CLERK. 71 be, as she ever has been, the partner of all his sorrows, the willing sharer of all his burdens. Charley finds himself in the city, greener than the olive plants about the table at home; but he is a quick, sprightly boy, and the country awkwardness disappears. He becomes shrewd and smart, his natural loveliness of temper ren- dering him an easy prey to temptation. It is hard for Charley to refuse to oblige a compan- ion. Time passes on-letters are less frequent. The young clerk looks pale. He is losing health. Who cares for the cause? Who knows whether Charley is in the store at twelve, or at two o'clock, or not at all? Slowly, but surely, dissipation does its work; gentle steps at first, but steeper and more rapid the descent. Charley is hurried down the precipice, when a sudden fever met him, and in a few hours, the dream of life was ended. The answer to the telegraph was, "I will come in the evening train.' At eight o'clock, page: 72-73[View Page 72-73] 72 THE RECORDED WILL. I was at the hurrying, crowding scene of travel, just in time to receive the heart-broken mother. We drove to the hotel in silence; we went up stairs together, turned into a private parlor, and were alone with the dead. He was laid on a sofa - the linen sheet spread over his inanimate form, and we turned it back, and saw the young face, with the moistened hair parted smoothly over the brow; all un- conscious laid the sleeper, of the groans of anguish from a mother's heart above her dead boy. At last the dreaded question was asked, "what was the -disease?" -I muttered some- thing about debility; but her clear eye saw the evasion. What could be said of comfort? How could I tell her that her first born son, the son of promise and high hopes, the son of prayers and consecration, had perished from dissipation! "How I wish we had a foreman of princi- ple,' said Henry, the other day. "Now there THE CLERK. 73 stand, side by side, two great engine shops. The machinery is the same. Castings are run, and mouldings made; the heavy bars of iron turned into beautiful forms of bright ma- chinery, until every part is perfect, and out runs the noble engine, to commence her march on theiron way. And yet, should you visit these shops, although both appear alike, there is every difference. "Mr. Jones will not allow one of his men to swear; not a word of profanity is heard in the whole building; no matter how much pro- voked, a boy cannot stay a day, who will per- sist in violating the rule. , No drinking either, is permitted. If a boy is known to be carried off to bed once, he has a walking ticket next day. And so it is with gambling. No lottery tickets, no playing of cards, nothing of the sort. Mr. Jones is sure to know if a boy goes to the theatre. He looks after them though they board at different houses. He advises them, like a father, about their money, and where to dispose of it. Hun- 7 page: 74-75[View Page 74-75] 74 THE RECORDED WILL. dreds of dollars go into the savings bank, from Mr. Jones's boys, to my certain knowledge. He stimulates them to do well, and his shop is crowded with work, and he has applications for boys all over the country. "Now just look at our foundry! Our fore- man never attends church. He laughs- when he hears the boys swear roundly, and never reproves but with a joke. Boys go into the shop quiet and peaceable, but they are twitted for their scruples, and are soon taught to be as bad as any of them. Up all night, and the next day drag heavily through their work. Scolding and fretting is the order of the day. I have regretted so much that I engaged with so unprincipled a man." I was really sorry for my young friend, who has been well educated by a careful mother, and happily possesses a firmness of principle and strength of integrity which will, with the blessing of God, -carry him safely through the fiery trial. But where one youth has the mar- tyr-spirit to endure the sneer and contempt to # THE CLERK. 75 which he must be subjected, hundreds will fall. How is it that Mr. Jones can be a father and friend to his twenty or thirty young men, when so many of our merchants are unable to look after half a dozen boys? Mr. Jones is a Christian, Henry; that answers your question; his father was a Christian before him. He just consults his conscience and his duty, and acts the golden rule, while many others talk about it. It is fearful to think of the responsibility of men who take from the sacred enclosure of home, these untried and inexperienced youth, and throw them into the fires of temptation, without sympathy or care. d page: 76-77[View Page 76-77] CHAPTER VI. FIVE O'CLOCK IN THE DEPOT. FrIE o'clock! A bright, busy, brisk hour in C. The evening train is coming. People col- lect around the depot. The mail express- wagon has waited long for the burden of heavy mail-bags. The shrill whistle shrieks, the bell rings, and round the bend sweeps, grandly, the long line of cars. From the high balcony of the P. House, we survey the scene. See those hand-cuffed pris- oners, destined for Richmond State's Prison. Poor fellows! They move along, attended by officers. They enter the hotel. Hear the chains clank to the sound of their steps, march- ing along the hall! "Mother, look at that young man, among FIVE O'CLOCK IN THE DEPOT. " those prisoners! I wonder if he has a mother!" said Willie, drawing closer to my side. "See! they bring in a coffin!" Life and death ever mingle together, and there are the mourners in the crowd of cabmen, hackmen, ticket and baggage masters ladies and gen- tlemen, babies and nurses, pushing and crowd- ing. Stand aside, Willie - the balcony is full. See those four little girls dressed in black. "Mother, one of them says it is her own dear mother, in that coffin! Is'nt it dreadful? How sad they look," continues Willie, ready to cry. Down in the bar-room stood a bright little fellow, of some ten years old. Alone! from New Orleans. What a flashing eye! Father and mother both dead of yellow fever; and he is going home to his friends in Philadelphia. "And how did you get on, my little friend?" "Oh, the captains of the boats helped me along. They brought me up the river to Louisville, and the conductors let me come thus far on the railroad. But my money is all page: 78-79[View Page 78-79] THE RECORDED WILL. gone now. Won't you let me go on to-night?" said the child, whose sweet face and manly expression had quickly attracted attention. "No, sir," replied the conductor, "I have my orders- can't be partial- no free tickets, here." The brave boy shed no tears, but down he sat, leaning his curly head on his hands thoughtfully, a few moments, and then quietly drew out a paper of crackers, and began to eat with a good relish. This cool philosophy relieved the little flut- ter of sympathy which was uncomfortably affecting the by-standers a moment before. In an instant Uncle Henry's head was down in a line with the curls, speaking in low tones. "What will you do, my boy?" "Something will turn up, sir. Father said, on his death-bed, I should get home safe. He said God would help me. "I have got on so far, I shall get through, sir, he said I should." Eyes swimming 'a plenty. Uncle Henry is FIVE O'CLOCK IN THE DEPOT. 79 on his feet. Hat goes round.-a bill there goes--half a dollar-hear the money ring. "Ten dollars! ten dollars! mother," cries Wil- lie, "He'll get home, now." "Thank you, sir, with all my heart," bowing low, "Father said so! God does help me!" Purses are often lightened by elegant trifles, at Belvedere's Saloon, in these hot summer evenings, with ice-creams, mint juleps, sanga- ree, sherry cobblers, lemonade, confections, of all sorts; but who so happy as Uncle Henry that night, who slept so peacefully, and all for ten dollars! The gong sounds, roaring along the great hall. A general movement. Gentlemen take ladies down to supper. All crowd along the passage, press towards the table, smoking with viands, and the obsequious servants behind the chairs. As I passed along, I observed two nuns, from the Conrvent of St. Mary's, sitting apart with solemn, rigid features, arrayed in black. Be- tween them sits a lovely young girl, with sad, page: 80-81[View Page 80-81] 80 THE RECORDED WILL. drooping eyes, little heeding the pressing crowd. They all rise together at the signal for refreshment. The delicate little figure is borne on with the tide; but on the stairs we lose sight of her. The nuns are seated at the table. Keen appetites after travelling, all busy, none notice the missing one. Supper over. "Where's the young girl? Call the landlord!" (Look, with consternation, into the parlors, clos- ets, chambers. Bridget whispers, "Holy Mary! where is she?"Engine whistles- cars ready. The young girl has escaped. CHAPTER VII. PAST MEMORIES. "LET us look back through the mists of de- parted years and bring up, from the shadowy past, the precious memories which are growing dim, like yonder distant trees, of which the faint outline only can be discerned. Many flowers have bloomed along the path of life, and sent forth fragrance for a day, then withered and died; the turf covers them, but the tears have ceased to fall over their graves, for the very mourners, fathers and mothers, are sleepers also side by side they lie, till the resurrection morning. Two friends passed the night together. "How greatly we need a revival of religion here," said one of them. "Our minister has \ page: 82-83[View Page 82-83] 82 THE RECORDED WILL. labored and prayed long, and with but little success. Are we not in fault? Do we help him, as we should, by our prayers?" The conversation resulted in a strong deter- mination to persevere in prayer, and in effort, till the whole church be awakened to feel the necessity of the case. It was a gay summer in our village. Ships of the line visited the port, and received and returned the hospitalities of the community. Balls were given by the courteous officers on board of the frigate, which was dressed in flags. Gay bands of music playing stirring quick-steps, beautiful pleasure-boats in attendance, polished ' officers, winning the hearts of lovely village girls, splendid suppers prepared in elegant cabins, and the broad, cool holy-stoned decks, invited to the dance. Refreshing sea-breezes swept up the bay, and the oars beat time, while the young middys plied them, richly freighted with the youth of both sexes, in their best attire. What a season was this for faith! who could look for the Heavenly Visitant, or stop to PAST MEMORIES. 83 listen to the solemn utterance forever heard behind the curtain, "prepare to meet thy God?" Anna and Simeon were not at the temple; no matter for that. Prayer, the mighty agent, was in the village. "Oh, that some celestial tongue would be given to speak the worth of prayer! This little ministry of love going up from silent hearts in secret chambers, in mid- night hours, at early dawn, at family altars, by evening-fire-sides, at the needle; prayer at the way-side, in the crowded street, by the hill-side, at the spade or plough, on the mountain top, or in the deep grand forest; prayer in the vale, in the cottage, in the -splendid mansion, behind the counter, in the buzy market; -prayer any 'where, every where! streaming up -to fill the golden'vials, day by day, ever offered ,by the throne of God'! Wherever you see the foot-prints of a disci- ple, there is an open pathway between him and heaven. "'Behold'! he prays." Just asmuch of page: 84-85[View Page 84-85] 84 THE RECORDED WILL. a Christian as there is prayer! just as dtte as there is prayer! Just so much does he -do for Christ as he prays! Just as little as he prays! Let memory run along the telegraphic wires of the past. Has it been a desert, a wilder- ness? Or has it been a long, fruitful vineyard, enriched and enriching by prayer? Nothing is so called for as effectual prayer. And many a silent prayer went up at the win- dows of the dwellings, as the lovely young creatures, in beautiful array, passed down the hill, by the side of their attendants, who were to convey them to the noble frigate. A few days passed by, and another scene of festivity followed. Every preparation which taste and refinement could furnish, was in requisition to do honor + the distinguished guests. The hall was ;'A ated and filled to overflowing; and tho tants of our village were determined? oe outdone in the expression of good , and unbounded liber- ality. PAST MEMORIES. 85 The assembly went off heavily. The dan- cers looked weary. A something undefined- unearthly, seemed present. What could be the matter? They wished themselves away from that whirl of vanity and folly. Could the Holy Spirit be in that ball- room? A short time before our story commences, a young, sparkling lady arrived, newly married. A woman of education, talent, wit, and hu- mor; fascinating in manners, and agreeable to every one. All the world was bright around her, trouble had not yet approached, and she feared no evil. The evening following the ball, Mrs. L. was at the Parsonage, with her usual sunny face and cheerful manners. There happened to be present, a young theological student from Yale College, whose heart beat warmly for the cause of his! Saviour, in the salvation of souls. He soon -commenced a very interesting conversa- tion, relating many striking incidents calculated to interest Mrs. L., who listened attentively, 8 t; page: 86-87[View Page 86-87] 86 THE RECORDED WILL. but at every pause would throw out some mirthful expression, clearly indicating that the citadel of the heart was closely barred, and by no means should be invaded. Another incident was related, more solemn, more pointed still, and then turning his large, mild eyes full upon her, said, "Mrs. L., are you a Christian?" She looked up amazed, but her face instantly resumed its pleasant smile, and she then burst into a flood of tears. Truth was now urged home strongly and tenderly. "I am perfectly wretched," said Mrs. L., and last even- ing, I thought I should drop to the floor in the assembly-room;" but added quickly, cFreder- ick must not see ma thus." She hurried out as her husband came up the steps, and bathed her face with water, till the expression of dis- tress was gone. Mrs. L. had been carefully instructed by a faithful Christian mother. The ground was well prepared. Her clear mind felt the force of motives which the Holy Spirit presented. She yielded her heart, intelligently and entirely, to PAST MEMORIES. 87 the will of God, and henceforth she was a Christian. She lived to educate sons for the ministry, and to shed the light of a holy example around the circle attracted by her distinguished tal- ents. Mrs. L., the young student, and the beloved pastor, are all before the throne, and if they could speak to us would surely say, "Be instant in prayer." Susan R. was a thoughtful girl, sober, steady, and quiet in demeanor; she attended the in- quiry meeting, but manifested no special inter- est, when, suddenly, she was seized with a vio- lent illness, which, in twenty-four hours, hurried her into eternity. The anguish of body was insupportable, but far more the distress of the soul. "Oh, for life! for life! for one day, only one day. Let me live! I cannot die. I am not ready," were the heartrending cries which rung upon the ear. No one could comfort or soothe the poor sufferer, and so she died, with page: 88-89[View Page 88-89] 88 - THE RECORDED-BILL. the one little prayer which could not be an- swered. It was a mournful lesson; the solemn dirge has vibrated along the track of years, whenever I have thought of Susan. "Oh, for life! for one day!" "Who will this night give her heart to the Saviour, and be his sincere follower?" said the Pastor, at the close of a meeting for young ladies. "Iwill," said a timid voice, in a distant corner. "Ah, Elizabeth, I am. glad to hear it," replied the Pastor. "Yes, sir, I will," said she, more firmly, as the breaking light surrounded her soul, and the long deep shadows which brooded over it, forever flew away. "And do you now, Elizabeth, with all your heart, surren- der every sin, and yield yourself fully to the control of your Redeemer? "I desire nothing in the world so much," she replied. "I hope I am His forever." In the next room were fathers and mothers assembled for prayer. The Pastor entered and remarked, that prayer had been answere. PAST MEMORIES. 89 "One of your children, we hope, has given her- self to God." The first drop before the abun- dant shower. He was yet to " fill his arms and his bosom with the ripened sheaves." "Is it my child? Is it my child?" was the thrilling question which went round; but the hallowed influence of prayer had so controlled the selfish principle, that all rejoiced for Elizabeth, when her name was spoken. Elizabeth well attested the sincerity of that decision, in the few years of a devoted life. She became a wife and a mother, but she sleeps in Jesus. How many spring up in grateful remem- brance? Caroline, another of those early spir- its, if she had known that her life was to be but a span, a shadow! she could not have walk- ed more softly and humbly with her God. ShQ left home bright and cheerful, for a visit of a day or two, to the neighboring city -was sud- denly seized with a violent illness-was per- fectly conscious of her situation, and away from beloved parents, or brothers, or sisters; 8* page: 90-91[View Page 90-91] 90 p THE RECORDED WILL. without one fear, that young girl walked down through the valley and shadow of death. "Tell my parents, and brothers, and sisters, to meet me in heaven," were the last words. But were these individual cases the most remarkable illustrations of revival blessings? By no means. The towns in the vicinity shared the rich harvest. Hundreds were gath- ered into the fold of Christ. Some of them yet live to give their influence and property, with which God has endowed -them, to His service. "I am going home," said a young lady, who had been a subject of this revival. 'I am go- ing to my distant home, and I am afraid I shall lose the delightful views and feelings which I now have." Not so, the reality. She returned to her family, who were living without God in the world. She visited her aged minister. He welcomed her as a lamb to the fold, and with her young hand in his -the weary, worn out laborer, and the fresh,:warm-beating heart of the youthful convert, they went forth together, PAST MEMORIES, 91 to do the work. They wakened to life the dying embers-prayer, united, goes up from contrite hearts. The Holy Spirit is with them. The father and mother, the brothers and sis- ters of the young girl, became the household of faith. Was the promise fulfilled to those two church-members, hundreds of miles away, as they talked together, and promised each other never to give up till the blessing was given? "I say unto you, if two of you shall agree as touching any thing they shall ask, it shall be done for them by my Father in heaven." Such are some of the fruits of genuine revi- vals, not fitful excitements that come up in a night, and perish in a night, but heavenly influ- ences, sought by effectual prayer. Let no one imagine these days of blessing are over. So long as the prayer of faith is offered, revival scenes shall be witnessed. Let the two agree together. Let the experiment be tried - of faith in the promise of a faithful God. page: 92-93[View Page 92-93] CHAPTER VIII. THE OPERA. "AH, Cousin Kate, I see you have made a conquest," said Aunt Mary, coming into the chamber where the young girl was dressing for the evening. "Mr. Marvin's compliments, and a choice bo- quet of beautiful flowers. He wishes your company to the opera to- night, my dear-I am so glad! I've wished you to visit it ever since you have been here. It is customary to dress a great deal at such places. Now you shall wear my bracelets and ear-rings, and your hair shall be curled by Koit, the hair-dresser, and you will be absolutely be- witching." Kate's face was hid behind the lovely boquet, THE OPERA. 93 which was enriched with camelias, cape jessa- mines, and sweet-scented geraniums, encircling a japonica. 4 Five dollars for that, my country cousin,' continued aunt Mary, " and, if you are careful, it may be preserved for a long time." "Oh, dear! I am so sorry he sent it to me. I cannot go to the opera." ' "Why yes, child, you can, for once. There can be no harm in seeing a little of the world. Your principles are strong and settled. Once going can't hurt you. Now, do go! I declare, you have been brought up so strictly, you do not know good from evil, that's a fact. "Mr. Marvin, I can tell you, Kate, is of the first class in society-up-town people. I know twenty girls who would jump at the chance. It may lead to something serious. I saw he was interested in you, the other evening;" said the lady, affectionately, leaning her hand on Kate's shoulder. The young girl stood thoughtfully surveying the rich cone of exotics and evergreen. page: 94-95[View Page 94-95] "-tv THE RECORDED WILL. It, grew lovelier every moment and her aunt's judgment, so faultless in dress, so perfect in matters of taste! Could aunt Mary be in the wrong? "I wish I might go once," whispered inclina- tion. When up spoke conscience, with its clear, /emphatic voice, from the, opposite side, "no." There was, also, away back in memory a sweet, quiet scene. A great farm-house kitchen, the large fire- place, the good mother knitting peacefully, with snowy cap and apron. The kind; easy father, who had given her the pleasure of this trip to New York. "And can I grieve his kind, old heart? Can I give pain and sorrow to my mother? No, I will not. Come what may, I will not see the theatre or opera, while I stay here. A good, healthy result, from the strong struggle. God helps thee, child of prayer. Fashion and custom, allurement -and temptar tion, drop fettered and harmless, as the prayer THE OPERA. 95 ascends above the curling smoke from thy father's hearth. "I take the prettiest girl in the city to the operar to-night," said Marvin, to his friend El- liot, as they sat together in the law-office. "Indeed:! and who may the fair one be?" "The loveliest rose that ever bloomed in the shade. Kate Mowhray." At this moment a servant entered with a note. Marvin hastily tore it open. His coun- tenance changed color. "What's this? Scruples - conscientious.- 'Umph - verdant-- provoking. What a fool I was. Will you bebieve it, Elliot, she can't go to the opera? Pshaw! I wish I had not thrown away that boquet on the little simple- ton." "Elliot, can you imagine a more disagreeable contre temps?" "Oh, nonsense, Marvin!" replied his friend, "don't lay it to heart," the girl is unsophisti- cated, you know--been brought up in the country. She'll acquire different sentiments page: 96-97[View Page 96-97] 96 - THE RECORDED WILL. soon - a new standard, easily found in city life; mean while console yourself with the reflec- tion- that not many of the young ladies that promenade Broadway, would refuse a drive in Marvin's cabriolet!" When Elliot wauntered home, that afternoon, he thought of' the quiet country blossom--he was sure he had met her in company. "An independent girl'? he said to himself, "so young, and yet so firm. Respect for her pa- rents' opinion! Deep-rooted principle, that's clear. How it would suit my mother to hear that story. Suppose we transplant the lovely violet to our castle." So saying, he sprang up the steps of one of those noble houses in Union Square, and humming a popular air, he hasty ened to his chamber to make his toilette. A little sad,- Slightly homesick, was our coun- try friend, as she sat alone by the window, half concealed by the rich damask curtains, watch- ing the stream of carriages beginning to roll by to the opera, -e y: THE OPERA. N C v7 Elegant vehicles, with emblazoned 'f:, and out-riders in livery. Ladies superbly dressed, without hts, d- playing the wealth of Broadway. ' Soon appeared Marvin's cabriolet, 'awn by the handsome iron-grays. i How finely dressed - how wellie looks. Flushed and happy, at his side, sat Sue Span- gler. They glanced at the window and laughed, lightly, as they dashed by. Kate soon left the seat at the window, and opened the piano. "Joys that we've tasted," was the very thing to play. The ioor-bell rings. Mr. Elliot is an- nounced. "I expected to find you at the opera to- night," Elliot remarked. "All the6 world are in admiration of the per- fections of Mona --- " "No," replied Kate, c I am rather antique in my notions, having -been educated in a more page: 98-99[View Page 98-99] 98, THE RECORDED WILL. strict regime, I cannot soon overstep the bounds of habit, and take leave of conscien- tious scruples. So I concluded to attend nei- ther the theatre nor opera." "Indeed!" said Elliot, I see no great harm in the mere representation of scenic views, either in tragedy or comedy. "Histrionic scenes are impressed on the me- mory, and life-pictures of morality which can- not fail to make lasting impressions on the youthful mind. "Of course no one would vindicate the ob- jectionable accompaniments." We must take things as they are, and not as they should be," replied Kate. "Just take away every thing objectionable, remove the ballet from its arena, and let scenic representa- tions be, sustained only by persons of irre- proachable life and reputation, and you have done forever with the theatre. Thinking peo- ple would have no time for such pleasures, and gay people would not relish them. THE OPERA. "Besides, in this humanity-worshipping age, there are other considerations for the benevo- lent mind. Look at the thousands of poor actors behind the scenes - the wear and tear of over-wrought and continually excited minds, the vicinity of stimulants-total absence of home comforts or order--the incessant drill- ing, rehearsing, writing, taxing every power of mind and body - the neglect and sufferings of children, left often in perfect solitude the whole day, and again through the long night, miseries untold and unthought of, endured only to give amusement, only to kill time, only to spread snares in the way of young peoE, which you must allow often leads them to ruin." It need not be told that Elliot's admiration of the " unsophisticated girl," as Marvin called her, soon ripened into a deeper sentiment. "A sensible, thinking girl, with firm princi- ples, which she is able to defend, is the woman for me," thought Elliot. page: 100-101[View Page 100-101] 1To0 THE RECORDED WILL. Aunt Mary's bracelets and earrings were never borrowed, nor was Kate in the least in- debted to external display for securing to her- self, what every body said was an excellent settlement. CHAPTER IX. THE WORCESTER COUNTY BOY. SEE that little boy, in Worcester county, driving the cows home ftrom Chestnut Hill, where they have been pasturing. He is thinking-thinking-his head down, switching carelessly the- grass with a small stick. At last he comes to the bars to rest, and looks across the garden to the old home- stead. It is a low cottage, with no garnish of paint or white-wash adorning its brown walls, a small house, small means, small farm, plenty of chil- dren. Twelve, did you say? No, thirteen I Samuel sits long, silently gazing. An ex- 9* page: 102-103[View Page 102-103] -- . 102 THE RECORDED WILL. pression of pain flashes across his bright, earn- est face. He clasps his hands tightly together, and exclaims, "I wish! Oh, I wish!"- "Well, my boy, what do you wish-? Yankee boys generally get what they wish. No money? That's no matter, they know how to get it. Is it money you want? A fine house, painted white, with green blinds, like Squire Sims's, over there, among the trees?" "No! Nothing of that kind." "Well, do you hate to work, to plough -to dig and harrow?" "No, indeed; but I wish I could go to school -I wish I could go to college -I wish I could be a minister. "Mother says no! She don't like to see me preferred before the other boys; and father says he has no money to send me to college, and must serve us all alike. "Well, the world was not made in a day; but if we live, we shall see if I do not go to college." At the period of which we speak, it is diffi- THE WORCESTER COUNTY BOY. 103 cult, in our day, when we so painfully discover that the annual supply of ministers is not suffi- cient to meet the annual deficiencies occa sioned by death, it is difficult to understand the enthusiasm which inspired the Christian youth, from one end of the country to the other.- The "Star in the East," had attracted every eye to its faint glimmering. Buchanan had disturbed the sleep of ages, and the hea- then world appealed to Christian sympathy, with irresistible power, as many rushed from the plough and the work-shop to schools of prepa- ration, with an eagerness and determination, a self-denial and perseverance, astonishing and incomprehensible to us of the present age. The writer well remembers one who came from the state of Maine, over a hundred miles on foot, to offer himself, as a scholar, in an acad- emy, which afforded facilities to young men, hoping, by his own labors, to meet the expense of board. The principal of this institution examined the capabilities of the youth, and very candidly told him, that his talents were page: 104-105[View Page 104-105] 104 THE RECORDED WILL. not sufficient to warrant encouragement-he had better go back and serve his Master in a more humble sphere, and more successfully. By no means discouraged, he immediately went to another seminary, and met the same rebuff He then walked to Andover, and laid the case before the Professors. They sympa- thized cordially in his earnest zeal, but kindly advised him to give up the object altogether. Nothing daunted, however, he set out on his homeward journey, and in various ways, by dint of perseverance, he acquired the necessary edu- cation, and became a faithful, laborious minister of Jesus. Uncle Jerry saw Samuel toiling on foot over the hills, one pleasant morning, in June, one year after the boy's earnest soliloquy, given above. He hailed him: "Well, Samuel, so you are really going away from home to get your education?" Samuel stopped, and took the stick down from his shoulder, on the end of which was a i' I ITHE WORCESTER COUNTY BOY. 105 small bundle of clothes, tied up in a silk pocket- hankerchief. "Yes, sir," he answered, cheerfully. "How's your purse, to start with, Sam?" Sam sat down on the grass, put his hand in the pocket of his home-made pants, and pulled out a fifty cent piece. The kind farmer's eyes moistened a little, as he drew out his leather wallet, and slipped a silver dollar into Samuel's hand, saying, " edu- cation is a fine thing, my lad, but don't -think, after you have learned a little, that you know every thing. Go to S., there is a good old minister, that lives there, who loves to do good, and will, I dare say, let you study Latin with him, while you help about the farm for your board. '"( Tell him Uncle Jerry sent you. Good bye, my lad," continued the kind old man, as with a light heart, and many thanks, Samuel sprang down the hill. "So, you have taken another protege, Dr. Alden," remarked a friend. page: 106-107[View Page 106-107] 106 THE RECORDED WILL. "Yes, an excellent boy, a rapid scholar. The way that boy walks through the Latin and Greek grammar, is wonderful. Should'nt be surprised to see him first man in his class, yet!" "Always sanguine, my friend. But many a friendless scholar, groping his way to day-light, will rise up and call you blessed, Doctor." "-Why, what do we live for, in this world, except to do good? Why has God given me a little property, a large, convenient house, and a wife, who lives only to bless all within her reach- but to be a faithful steward, and. use it for His service? I am pleased to see the ladies of my par. ish helping me on in this good work. They have fitted Samuel, completely, with a suit of clothes, shirts, socks, and so on." These were old times, before organizations of all sorts had dispensed with private benefac- tions; before sewing societies had, begun to piece bed-quilts, or any of the machinery now in motion, had been tlought of. THE WORCESTER COUNTY BOY. 107 Samuel did his duty well, pleased the Doc- tor, pleased his wife, pleased Hannah, the daughter; and, in short, made rapid progress, and, in due time, became fitted for college. I sometimes think of that boy, as I meet with young gentlemen) of my acquaintance, lounging in stuffed rocking-chairs, surrounded, I had almost said, surfeited, with the elegancies of life --- beautifully bound books, in profusion, gold pen in hand, groaning and yawning over the " dull, hard Latin phrases." With the blessings of the parsonage and the village, Samuel departed for Cambridge; but, before--leaving, he was called into the Doctor's study, and a long and thorough examination was made, the verbs all repeated, from toupta, to the last rule. "Young man," said the Doctor, " you expect advice, I suppose. College is a dangerous place. I have two rules for you to remember, in col- lege, and through life--Read the book of Proverbs. page: 108-109[View Page 108-109] -108 THE RECORDED WILL. "When you see a tree, look carefully, to see if it grow straight or crooked!" 9J Samuel with a full heart thanked the good doctor for all his kindness, with which he had brought forward his education. A happy boy was he, as he turned away from the little gate of the lovely parsonage,where he had received so much disinterested kindness. A walk of fifty miles was soon completed, for his heart was light, and he beguiled the way with fond anticipations of the future. At the close of the second day, the towers of Cambridge met his eyes. What matter if the purse was light, and the dress rusty? What if he did not know a soul among those handsome fellows playing at foot- ball on the green? - and his only recommenda- tion a letter from the doctor? What if he were a verdant, unsophisticated country boy?- was he not in Cambridge with that eye of fire, and determined will and con- scious energy? Samuel passed his examination well. The THE WORCESTER COUNTY BOY. 109 Faculty were surprised at the ease with which questions were answered. He was at once en- rolled as Freshman and complimented by the Professors. What next can be done by our poor student. Board he cannot. It will be as much as he can do by keeping school in winter, to pay tuition fees and clothe himself decently. A little room was soon rented, ten by twelve, furnished plainly. Hastypudding and milk, or coffee, took but little time in preparation, and Samuel became skilful in the process. Weeks fled on. Samuel was steady as the needle to the pole, and faithful in every duty. While he was a Freshman, many tricks of course were played off upon him, at first, but he soon became the favorite of all. His high standing as a scholar secured respect and es teem. At the expiration of the first year, one morning the President sent for him to his room. "Samuel," said he, C'I have watched your conduct with. great approbation. I shall never 10 page: 110-111[View Page 110-111] "O TTHE RECORDED WILL allow you to pay another cent for tuition fees. Go on, as heretofore, and you will be an or- nament to Cambridge." Samuel bowed and withdrew with heighten- ed color, unable to stammer out a word of gratitude. The secret of his success was correct princi- ples early established,-and strong trust in God! A few weeks since, I visited him in his lovely retreat a few miles from the city, and as I look- ed upon the tall spire which reaches above the trees, from the church in which he ministers in holy things, and turned my eye toward the neat white parsonage, I thought of the little boy who sat upon the fence, in Worcester County, forty years ago. CHAPTER X. "OST OPPORTUNITIES. TmE knocker was muffled! Sarah gently turned the handle of the lock,-the door open- ed. No servant in attendance! She entered the parlor, all silent and still! She passed through the hall, stepped into the dining room and rang the bell. "How is Emma now?" "Very low, indeed!" was the answer. "May I go to her?" "Oh, yes, ma'am, she inquires for you very often." Sarah entered the chamber, but oh! the change that had passed over that lovely face. Two days ago the friends had walked arm in arm in perfect health and happiness. page: 112-113[View Page 112-113] "2 THE RECORDED WILL. / A malignant disease attacked Emma that very night, and now she stands on the brink of life. Sarah stood by the pillow. She bathed the temples and waited long for the closed lids to be raised. At last Emma opened her eyes and gazed long and earnestly into the face of her friend. Children they had been together, their studies and amusements the same,-they lov- ed like sisters, but death stood between them now, and his look was terrible. Sarah shuddered as she looked upon the lovely face now assuming the dreaded 'tokens of approaching dissolution. Not a word was uttered. The doctor held the pulse ard the mother sat by in anguish. "Oh! is she prepared to die?" was the only thought, as Sarah burst into tears. "Keep perfectly calm and quiet," whispered the doctor, c she must not be disturbed." Too late now, Sarah, for the life-work. It is enough for the frail spirit to struggle with this "OST OPPORTUNITIES. 113 mighty conqueror. Disturb heri not amid the mortal agony and dying strife, with the ques- tion of all others of infinite magnitude, which the strongest intellect in the healthiest condi- tion of body could never settle, unaided by God. The little spark of life may glimmer a few hours longer, if not rudely extinguished. Sarah stood silently at the pilloW, bracing up her heart for the conflict which was now going on within herself. Years of love and intimacy had rolled by. Days and hours they sat together. Every sub- ject talked over, books, studies, pleasures, com- panions, dress, employments, anticipations, all had been discussed and enjoyed, all belonged to the little thread of life which was now to be cut asunder'! the little life of only seventeen years. "How often did I resolve to talk with her about her soul, but wat afraid to, for'fear of displeasing her. She knew that I professed to be a child of God. She saw me go up to the altar of God. She heard my solemn vows to 10* page: 114-115[View Page 114-115] "4 THE RECORDED WILL. do all I could for the salvation of others. She expected surely that I would make one effort for her. How could I neglect it?" "Keep calm!?" said the doctor. "The strug- gle must not go on by the bed of death." Sarah hastened home, that she might pour out her regrets unrestrained. "How can I meet my beloved Emma in the other world? Oh, if I could live just one week over again. How long we talked about that bit of lace she was working. What trifles con- sumed the precious moments, and how often did I wish even then that I could speak to her about the Saviour. Conscience often summon- ed me to be faithful. Every day I have seen the solemn hearse and the coffin in these t streets. Every day the tolling bell speaks to me, but I did not know that death would so soon divide us!" Thus poor 'Sarah reproached herself, as she paced her chamber, too wretched to attempt to sleep. At last the mental agony was insupportable, "OST OPPORTUNITIES. 115 as conscience uttered in startling tones, its ac- cusations, "Lost opportunities!" "C Yes! she led the way for me; a serious word and a look of anxiety I have often noticed. Why did I not speak of the Saviour as the only comfort? Why did I allow ETmma to suppose she could be saved without going to him?" "Broken resolutions!" inconsistent levities!" "worldly conversation!" neglect of the soul!" pressed around and demanded a hearing. At midnight she rose, dressed herself, called up a servant and hastened back to the chamber of death. Emma was yet living, a little reviv- ed, and perfectly conscious. c My dear Emma,' said Sarah tenderly, "Tell me, are you ready to die? Have you gone to the Saviour of sin- ners?" The dying girl looked up with an expression never to be forgotten. "Sarah," said she," when you came this after- noon and stood over me so long, and said not a word about my soul, which is to appear be- fore God, I said, Sarah cannot be a Christian; page: 116-117[View Page 116-117] "6 i THE RECORDED WILL. I always thought her one lmtil now; but no, she cannot be a Christian." "I longed for one word; I thought you would tell yo ur dying friend how I might find the Saviour. I was too weak to speak. Oh! Sarah! you do not know how much I have de- sired you to speak to me in the long hours we, have passed together. You do not know how unhappy I have been, to thinlzk that you were taken and I was left. Sarah, I was all ready. You could have easily led .me to Jesus, long ago - I do believe I have long sought him at a distance, and I hope I have now found him. We shall meet again, dear Sarah, but let me entreat you never to forget what I have now said." Emma breathed away her- soul, it is believed, in perfect peace, before the sun rose, and left her friend standing by her bed in a state of mind not easily to be described. From that memorable night, Sarah was an: earnest Christian. 02 Opportunities imroved," henceforth was her motto. "OST OPPORTUNITIES. 117 Taught by a severe but effectual lesson, she was diligent and happy in life, and of course blessed in death. Those three sisters. I remember them well. I sat near them in church. How reverently were their eyes closed in prayer time. How earnestly they looked at the preacher. No whispering, no gazing about. It was a strange mystery in those days, in the whirl of a bustling city, to see those three sisters so young, so love- ly, and yet forsaking all the world, and go out in the broad aisle of the church and profess the name of Jesus. I watched them for years, and longed to be like them, walking alone in that narrow but pleasant path. How often have I hastened from the prayer meeting, to walk at their side, hoping they would say one little word to me about my soul, They had a treasure which I longed to find. They thought me but a child, and so they never spoke to me. But it was a blessing that page: 118-119[View Page 118-119] "8 THE RECORDED WILL. I could peep under the bonnet and look at the solemn face in prayer. It was a blessing that I saw them stand up before that great assembly all alone and profess the name of Jesus.--A blessing to watch their blameless life. It was a blessing to stand by their dying pillow as they one by one parted with time. Then, they could speak, they could no longer be silent so near the heavenly Jerusalem. Do Christians appreciate their influence? If the silent exterior can give shape to the thoughts of a little child, how much' greater the power of persuasion, love and tenderness? "Why do they not speak to me?" said a gay young lady with whom one was conversing re- specting the danger of living without God. c"If they feel as anxious for our souls as they pro- fess to, why do they not say something about them, to us?" * t * * "Why do I find it so difficult to speak on the subject of personal religion? I am sure it is from no want of feeling, but it is almost impos- sible to summon resolution to come directly to "OST* OPPORTUNITIES. 119 the question, Is your soul safe? Have you applied to the great Physician?" I am aware of your difficulties, my friend,-' I replied. "They arise chiefly from a refined nature which shrinks from giving pain, or ob- truding upon sacred ground. But where much is given, much will be required. Have you re- flected that God has given you particular ad- vantages and appropriate talents for this very work? You know perfectly that you have the power to win by persuasive language, flowing easily and gracefully, from the fountain which has been kept rich and full by a life-long in- dustry. 6 You know that you have tender sympathies which demand activity, and which you have never allowed to suffer for want of exercise. It is a question to be asked with earnest impor- tunity, CWhat are the young Christians of our country doing with ,their five and ten tal- ents, with their, leisure and opportunity, their home freedom from cares, their exalted advan- tages, their intellectual treasures, gained by page: 120-121[View Page 120-121] 120 THE RECORDED WILL. years of study? What are they doing for Christ, and the souls of their impenitent com- panions by their charms of conversation, their musical voices, their kind and tender words, their lovely manners and engaging smiles.' These! these! are the talents, all of which are to be examined at last, to see how much they have gained." What have yours gainedmy friend? How many names are written, by your efforts, in heaven? A, CHAPTER XIL THE HOT SUPPER. ; WE are to have a hot supper in the loft over Kinnard's store," said a Junior to Brown, a classmate. "Turkey, chickens, apple-pie and custards, precisely at twelve. All the class are to be there, and you won't refuse this time," said White. 'It is to be particularly quiet and sober. Youll not regret it, my good fel- low." "Well, perhaps I will go' said his compan- ion, who had uniformly refused all invitations of this sort, to clubs, oyster suppers and convi- vialities of his fellows collegians, incurring thereby the odious epithet of a 1" stingy metho- dist." So he handed a bill to the Junior, who left " page: 122-123[View Page 122-123] 122 THE RECORDED WILL. him in high spirits at his unlooked for sue cess. For nearly three years, Brown had firmly re sisted every temptation of this kind, and hi high standing as a scholar, together with an un blemished reputation and obliging dispositior exempted him from the suspicion and obloqu: usually the reward of such well doing. Congratulations were expressed, and bet laid by the high fellows who were surprised a well as delighted, that at last "the bird wat caught." "I tell you," said Parsons to Stone, " we'v nailed him. He's coming, and no mistake rIve laid a bet of ten dollars that he shal drink. He can't refuse. Now remember, mi: fourth proof brandy with his Port, half an' half, I say." "Yes, yes, I know," replied Stone, "C wouldn' I give a ten to see the sport? never fear." The night was cold and starry, when Browl threw aside hs books, adjusted his toilet quick ly, and walked towards Kinnard's store, no THE HOT SUPPER. 123 however, without some compunctious visitings of conscience at the consent so hastily given to be present at the supper. For once, it may do no harm-to see what these famous suppers are, although I had much rather be on my pillow, to tell the truth." When he reached the store, the door was closed, and all was silent; but a faint, light from the loft above, gave signs of vitality, and gently pushing open the door, he made his way through packages and barrels to the stairs, and soon was admitted to the busy group. Whetted appetites in a keen December night, seldom luxuriously indulged within the pre- cints of Commons, various savory odors from the steaming dishes, together with the cheerful faces of the young collegians who were laying the cloth, and producing from baskets and pails, the materials for the feast, altogether, made it a scene of exhilaration and pleasure. After arrangements were finished to the sat- isfaction -of all present, the leading member of the class arose, and with mock gravity imitat- page: 124-125[View Page 124-125] 124 THE RECORDED WILL. ing the doctor, rung a little bell, and desired some one to say a grace. A general titter went round the table, but all involuntarily glanced at Brown, who, noth- ing daunted, instantly rose and reverently ask- ed a blessing of God on the food so unexpect- edly provided. A silence followed. Stone tried to get off a witticism upon the chaplain, but it didn't take. Great good humor however prevailed. The smoking viands were deliciously prepared, and the repast went off with unusual courtesy and self-restraint. The fragments soon disappear- ed; plates, knives and forks, gathered up into baskets, and wine followed as a matter of couTrse. Parsons, who presided, bowing low to Brown, presented the glass, with the toast, c Good fel- lowship." I thank you," replied Brown, " no one de- sires good fellowship, with all the present com- pany inore than myself, bittas I never drink wine, I shall only damp your festivity, and THE HOT SUPPER. 125 ,therefore beg leave to retire." With this he rose and was proceeding to the door, when Stone sprang forward and put the key in his pocket. C You will not leave this room, Brown, till you have drank with us. We only drink to good fellowship. You surely are not the crab- bed- fellow to go off now. Come, Brown, for once be merry, and have a good. time. Who's afraid! "I am not, my friend," said Brown firmly as he returned to his seat, ZI and as I believe cour- tesy permits me to have the floor, I will reply to the- toast, as a fraternal brother." -Brown then proceeded in a strain of eloquence to ad- dress his auditors, who had before expressed the highest admiration for his talents, --and briefly arranged his arguments in favor of a strictly temperate course of life. His compan- ions listened in silence while he alluded to scenes of disgraceful riot which had expelled some of the members of college during the term, to their homes, carrying sorrow and dis- " page: 126-127[View Page 126-127] - 126 THE RECORDED WILL. graee to their friends; and feelingly did he ap- peal; to their nobler motives to abandon a course which must end in ruin, He drew a picture of friends at home, toiling early and late, to afford them the advantages of education; of the mother's prayers for her absent sons. He appealed to their future wel- fare, their ambitious -hopes, all connected with college life. Brown sat down, surprised himself at the re- spectful attention he received. "You've lost your ten," whispered Stone to Parsons. ' Yes, and got a, temperance lecture in the bargain/' replied Parsons. The door was unlocked, and Brown bade his companions good evening, and walked out, but was instantly followed by a young man who had sat thoughtfully at the lower end of the table, shading his face with his hand. "Brown, give me your hand. Listen, I here solelgy- promise by the stars above us, that never will I touch a drop of liquor again. I 'THE 'HOT. SUPPER. 127 have wasted time and money enough. God ssnt you to that loft to-night. I have a widow- ed mother whose very life is bound up in mine. Brown, you have waked me from a fatal dream.- God bless you." And thus do the delicate wheels of Divine Providence take up opportunities improved, faith- ful, earnest efforts of true disciples, turning the channels of vice and dissipation into healthy currehts of living streams which shall flow on forever. "Workers with God," be faithful, for an eternity shall develop the mighty wonder of human instrumentality, wrought in, and car- ried out, by the mysterious machinery of Divine Providence. "Who is our Biblical Professor," inquired Brown several years after, while visiting a Theological Seminary in one of the Northern States. "Why, Prof. Alden, you must know him, one of the best of men and most distinguished scholars.' page: 128-129[View Page 128-129] 128 THE RECORDED WILL. "Alden'! ah! yes, I remember him." The friends met and mutual embraces and rapid inquiries followed. "Your sermon in Kinnard's loft was the in- strument of saving me, my dear friend. From that night I was an altered man. But for you, I had been lost to friends, to reputation, and lost to myself" Blessed be God, for seed dropped by the wayside, for links of Providence touching the festive board, and reaching on through eternal ages. CHAPTER XII. SAILOR BOY. "THERE'S love enough," said theTRev. Mr. C., in a sermon of thrilling interest, liere's love enough to fill every heart, there's money enough to supply every want, there's sympa- thy enough to dry every tear." What's the reason, my dear Mrs. Freeman, you always find so much incident and adven- ture in your travels? I never do; dear me! I have been to Washington this summer, and didn't meet a single adventure, -not even a railroad accident nor a stoppage, or break, or delay. All went on smoothly and well. We went, we saw, we returned." "But if you take a short ride or a trip even to Boston, there is no end to the things you page: 130-131[View Page 130-131] 130 THE RECORDED WILL. see. Some child must be lost, some poor beg- gar half starved, or some one taken'off the stage of human events, for your special benefit. This is a dull world, after all. Other people yawn and look sleepy over a book or newspa, per, just as I feel in the cars or steamboat; and I can't understand what makes the difference. CNow, the other day, in New York, I saw fifty beggars, whining out miserable tales, and blind men sitting on the steps of the Astor House, silently holding out the hand for a pen- ny, which they seldom got; and such dirty little Irish vagabonds, we had to keep our dresses as close as possible from touching them, or they would be ruined. Now you go through the street looking as if you cared not a cent for all Stuart's treasures in his marble block, or even the splendor of the Crystal Pal- ace does not attract you in comparison, if you can only meet in the Bowery or Battery, some charming child, dressed in rags, to make a story that everybody is obliged to read." "My dear young lady," said Mrs. Freeman, SAILOR BOY.. 131 "sorrow is everywhere, and therefore love should follow its steps." "You cannot lift your eyes in the cars, but you see some heavy laden and grief stricken heart, concealed from common observers, but all apparent to the clear eye of benevolence." "But you mistake, Anne, I do not seek ob- jects of interest, I assure you; they fall in my way, and they are not to be passed by on the other side." "To a gay, happy-hearted creature, lilfe yourself, objects of distress may be avoided as unwelcome interruptions to the bright land- scape; but life will appear in a different dress by-and-by. Affliction is a severe but effectual teacher, and you, too, may learn to lend a list- ening, patient ear to the daily instances of pov- erty, sorrow, and grief, "Now, the other day, in my visit to Boston, an incident occurred which interested my warmest feelings. A sailor entered, and sat near me in the cars. I knew he was a sailor page: 132-133[View Page 132-133] - 132 THE RECORDED WILL. at once, by the pea-jacket, tarpaulin, and careb less neck-tie. "There was that in his countenance to attract notice. With a profusion of the finest brown curls-an eye of intelligence, and a face altogether above the common sort, gener- ally found in the forecastle. He was emaci- ated, and looked as if just risen from extreme illness. Every few moments a distressing cough revealed the truth, that he was not far from the grave. 'At length, I could not help turning round and saying, 'friend, you seem distressed; do try a lozenge.' He looked grateful, and as if will. ing to advance a little further in conversa- tion." "Yes, this is a hard cough; it overhauled me coming on a lee shore in dead winter." "You have been very ill, I fear." Yes, I've had trouble, as well as other peo- ple; have been in the hospital, at Manilla, three months, with and East Indian fever." "Where are you bound now?" SAILOR BOY. 133 "Oh, to sea again. I sail from port to-mor- row." "No, not to sea! you ought to be at home, under a physician's care. Have you a home, my friend?" "Yes, ma'am, I have a home, I suppose," (brushing away a tear with the cuff of his sleeve,) "I have rich friends, a plenty who wouldn't like, from shame, to see me in .the lee-scuppers - and a mother too, if she's living, who never thought I'd be in this condition." And again the hand swept over the eyes quickly. "A mother! Then why don't you go home to her?" "I dare not - it would break her heart. "My father is dead - my brother was much older than I, and he domineered over me, and oppressed me. I could not bear it -he couldn't get the weather-gage of me! I left home and ran away-I left my mother with- out a word, but I've not made much by my voyage. I've been sick, got in debt -I owe 12 page: 134-135[View Page 134-135] 134 THE RECORDED WILL. the last captain I sailed with, and must go to sea with him again, to earn some money to pay him," cOh, my friend, you ought not to go on the salt water at this inclement season. You will die of consumption, if you do ;" (and my heart shuddered, as I remembered the toils of the poor sailor and his hardships, in the cold winter, running up the rigging stiff with ice, the frozen fingers, and cold, wet clothes, in which he turned into the bunks of the mis- erable forecastle.) "'Think of your mother! and how glad she will be to welcome you back again! W What is her name?" "He quickly gave it to me. "Where does she live!" CIn Lowell." "Will you not return to her?" "I can't, I have no money." "I glanced around; eager listeners caught the words,.the hands were in the pockets." SAILOR BOY. 135 "Here, we'll make you up a purse," said a husky voice. , i"The poor fellow dropped his head into the slender fingers, and burst into tears, his sobs interrupted by the distressing cough. c; Ah! that mother must see her boy again. "Have you a Bible?"I inquired. No, ma'am." "You shall have one - and in a moment I wrote, on a card, an order to a Bible Deposi- tory. The cars stopped, the sailor boy, in broken words, expressed his thanks, and disap- peared. The good ship Hestor sailed -ut of Boston harbor, next day, without him. "So, you perceive, dear Anne/' said Mrs. Freeman, C the world is crowded with interest. God scatters along our footsteps, opportunities for usefulness. We cannot escape them. We may shut our eyes--we may fold our talent in the napkin; but there they lie, directly in our way, and no bitter regret can ever recall a // lost opportunity." page: 136-137[View Page 136-137] CHAPTER XIII. THE GARDEN. A OH, mother! mother! just look through these bars do -see this lovely garden! See those winding gravel paths. Look at -these trees and flowers. See the fruit hanging on the walls - pears and peaches. Do look!" said the delighted little girl, pulling her mother by th9 hand, as they slowly walked by a gar- den, in the city of N. B. A spacious mansion reared its lofty walls among the green foliage, lovely walks diverg- ing in every direction, arbors and grottos, stud- ded with shells and minerals, wafted from for- eign shores, every where met the eye in varied forms of elegance. Wealth, intelligence, and skill had lent their aid to render this abode an THE GARDEN. 137 Eden. Strangers from abroad, and in our own country, resorted hither to improve their taste and gratify the eye; while the hospitalities and kind greetings from the distinguished proprie- tors, sustained the reputation so fairly won, of possessing the most charming abode in the country. Mother, is it right and just," said Florence, that we should have only that little bit of ground and this gentlemaau should have such acres of fruit and flowers? VNow, do you think it is right?" "Stop, Florence, do not covet. Last week I was conversing with a lady who had a garden filled with every sort of delicious fruit, and she had not so much as tasted even a currant this year, because her health would not suffer it." Just at this moment a little wicker gate, in a corner, was gently opened, and a sweet voice said, "will you walk in, my dear, and eat some fruit?" The invitation was cheerfully accepted. The mother and child received the most- delicate 12* page: 138-139[View Page 138-139] 138 THE RECORDED WILL. attention. Lovely exotics from every clime, were exhibited, refreshing fountains, sparkling among the, green shrubbery--ponds of silver and gold fish hid away in deep dells, alto- gether, was a scene of unmingled delight to Florence. A rich bouquet was presented to each of the visitors, by a lady of lovely aspect, but exceed- ingly pale and delicate. "We have fatigued you," said Florence's mother, as she saw her sink down into a rural chair. You have been ill, I fear." The lady's eyes filled with tears. The rose-colored peach drop- ped from the little girl's lips, as she looked wonderingly, to find - grief in the midst of so much beauty. No reply was given, but the soft hand passed lightly over the forehead of Florence, and pre- sently rising, she said, "Come with me, I have more to show you."- In a few moments they ar- rived at a magnificent glass aviary, which was filled with birds of every hue and plumage; they flew among the branches, and built their nest o .i TIlE GARDEN. 139 in the soft moss. Florence was in ecstasies, surveying all with the perfect bliss of a child's appreciation. "Oh, mother! isn't it like heaven? I am so happy!" "Sit down, Florence," said the lady, "and I will tell you a story. "Only one month ago, a little girl of your age, stood just here, happy as you are, looking at a nest of young canaries, all her own. She danced among the flowers, and sung with the birds. -She wove garlands for her mother's head, but they hang upon her tomb! "She was my all. God saw my cup was too full -He wanted my lamb - she was too good for this world; His will be done! "The head of curls lay in the coffin-the heavenly beauty is turning to ashes. Florence, I would give this mansion, this lovely garden, with its terraces of fruit and flowers, its cooling lakes and ornaments, grottos and aviaries- all that you vainly dream gives me so much happiness, could I recal my Mary! "Take this basket of fruit," she said, "to page: 140-141[View Page 140-141] "O THE RECORDED WILL. your brothers and sisters; when you eat it, think of my lonely room think of my silent evenings. No little arms around my neck, to imprint the good-night kiss. God does all things right. To me He gives riches and their results-to you He gives brother* and sisters, and a precious mother. Florence, Oluld you exchange? Would you take my desolate home, and come and sit alone in this arbor, looking down into the grave, as I do?" Florence was but a child, but a fair repre- sentation of a numerous class of people, who are to be met every day. The most difficult lesson to be learned, of all others is, perfect submission to God. This gives perfect contentment with our lot; and, of course, it is the only spot on earth, where true happiness is found. Said a young lady, who was educated in the simple routine of a country home, familiar with self-denial, industry, economy - stern, but suc- cessful teachers, "When I visit my wealthy, THE GARDEN. 141 friends, it seems as if they were in need of all my pity and sympathy. So many sorrows to relate, such perplexities and difficulties which I never thought of, that I have to be consoler, comforter, and bearer of all burdens. I go ex- pecting to find happiness, but am invariably disappointed. Is it a fair specimen of life, or is it that I am so marvellously- good-natured and sympathizing?" "A little of both, Fanny; a cheerful, open countenance, inspires confidence; but I am sorry to confess, that go where you will, among the rich or poor, in hall or cottage, discontent is the great evil of life." A person in deep affliction said to me, I am perfectly submissive to the will of God-I could not live with one rebellious thought." "Happy woman," thought I - perfectly submissive." Not long after,- some little trial was referred to, difficult to be borne-I reminded her of the expression. "Oh," said she, "I confined it entirely to the dreadful event which crushed my earthly hopes--not page: 142-143[View Page 142-143] "2 THE RECORDED WILL. at all to the little concerns of life." Ah, here is the difficulty-we rememher God in the great affairs, but forget him in the little. EmmTna was describing an elegant suit of rooms, belonging to a splendid establishment in New York, with her usual enthusiasm and love of the beautiful, wherever found, without a thought of personal interest; when a lady present exclaimed, "Do not say another word, I cannot bear to hear it -I never wish to see any thing which is beautiful, if I cannot have it myself," Suppose all the little covetous thoughts and envious feelings which find a nestling place in the heart, should spring up to the surface, take shape, and figure, and form themselves into pictures. Suppose these pictures were hung up. around the walls of the room, to be sur- veyed as the true interior. A curious medley, to be sure! Houses and equipage-articles of furniture or dress -Carriages and horses- jewels and laces- silver and gold, in promis. cuous confusion. But suppose, that at the ! THE GARDEN. 143 indulgence of every covetous desire, the arti- cle should take its place on the wall, daguerreo- typed, a perpetual memento of the sin. When the veil is lifted which hides the future, who may say, that the life-long gallery of pictures may not meet the eye, forever revealing the thoughtless violations of God's holy law - "Thou shalt not covet." page: 144-145[View Page 144-145] 4 CHAPTER XIV. THE NEIGHBORS. Two pictures are hung up side by side. Let us examine them. Every touch on the canvas is a life scene. Two young lads of nearly the same age lived on adjoining farms. One of them descended from a line of ancestry dis- tinguished for strong sense, fine talents, which placed many of them on the higher seats of honor as professional and political aspirants. The other lad was favored with equally re- spectable parentage, but of perhaps more de- cidedly christian character. In yonder field, below the winding stream, you perceive a large venerable oak. One of the oldest inhabitants of the soil. Beneath those wide spreading branches a scene was en- THE NEIGHBORS. 145 acted which angels might have stopped to wit- ness with pleasure. One of these boys, now fif- teen years old, is walking out from the old farm house on the hill. He looks sad. He slowly makes his way to the thick forest which surrounds the dwelling, and beneath this tree, he kneels in prayer. His eyes streaming with tears at the thought that he is a lost sinner, without God in the world! He remembers Jacob, and like him, he there in the still forest, resolves that the "Lord shall henceforth be his God." Long he tarries on the spot which is becoming a Bethel, and as the evening shades draw near, he returns to his home a happy, consecrated boy, his spirit renewed, his sins for- given. The seed has dropped, which is to become the great tree, like the oak overshadowing his head; the threads of gold are to run on and form the warps of eternity. The little drop is to become a great swelling river. Robert is to be a farmer. The clear waters of that rushing stream turn the mill yonder, 13 page: 146-147[View Page 146-147] "6 THE RECORDED- WILL. and even this is not quite enough for the in- dustry of- New England boy. Some knowl- edgeof shoemaking will be convenient also- a common thing-(for Yankee enterprise are words of meaning,) to find two or three trades connected with the farm. William goes into a country store. The lads are often together, and William becomes thoughtful. He hears the "still small voice," and he knows it is the voice of God. What seed are you dropping for eternity; each one of which is to yield a harvest of its kind? For some days his heart bows reverently to its solemn tones, but doubt arises. c Give up sin of every kind? live a Christian life? take the yoke of Christ and wear it? Hard condi- tions! too hard for so young a lad-.time enough 'by and by."' But William is very unhappy. The arrow rankles yet. How shall it be extracted? He must find amusement. A party of young friends are going to P., for a revel. It is the first time, but he joins them. He needs strong THE NEIGHBORS. 147 stimulants just now. A night of frolic and fun will restore him to himself again. He returns a little humbled in his own opin- ion, to be sure, but easy and comfortable about the -future. The soul must take care of itself. Henceforth it is no concern of his. William grows tall and fine looking. He be- comes the father of a family. Honors cluster aroundl him. A man of intellect, of influence, he impresses his character and sentiments on the comers and goers around a village hotel. William is an infidel. He seldom visits the church, but he is respected. His words are quoted. Young men take his aphorisms, to shape their course. He is a leader in society. Robert is a father. He quietly tends the mill and makes shoes, but the measures are al- ways pressed down, and the shoes always ready at the promised hour. Everybody knows that he is a Christian, blameless and harmless with- out rebuke. Said an eminent lawyer, a man of the world, of Robert --(Deacon, we must now call him,) "a that man's life is the strongest page: 148-149[View Page 148-149] "8 THE RECORDED WILL. argument in favor of the truth of Christianity that I know of; that man would save me from infidelity." Both neighbors live through years of changes years of discipline - sick beds, open graves, pains, sorrows, disappointments, losses are all workers together to lead each safely through earth's dangers. Both live within a few rods of the house of God. Both may hear the calls of Divine Love. Both pass and repass every day the graves of beloved friends. The Holy Spirit too has visited many a time the village, during the long journey of fourscore years, entered the family of each, and spoke within the heart of its members. At last the confines of another shore are reached. The cold narrow stream lies between. The good deacon is laid upon a bed of sickness. The Pastor visits him, and with a warm pres- sure of the hand, listens to words like these: "I am ready to go. My only hope is in the merits of the Saviour. He has been my faith- THE NEIGHBORS. 149 ful God ever since the day that He saw me under the old oak tree. There He covenanted to be my God. He has never forsaken me." "Most of my time," added the- good man, " of late years, has been spent in prayer." Ah, yes, venerable saint, this was the secret of the "blameless and harmless" life. This open channel between heaven and earth, was a hymn of mingled praise and thanksgivings be- tween angels and the innocent pair. Sin shut it up, but the Saviour has unlocked it, and over the gate is inscribed, pray without ceasing." A few have learned this ceaseless prayer, and find repose and rest in the battle of life. "As I sit up or lie own, or walk by the way, how easy and how pleasant to have my heart with the Saviour. He is with me now. He will go with me through the dark valley," said the dy- ing man. Like atnoble ship, richly freighted, every sail spread, coming into the harbor, is the good dea- con as he nears the port of eternal joy. "Why are aged Christians detained so long 13' page: 150-151[View Page 150-151] 150 THE RECORDED rWILL. on earth," is a question often asked - clearly, because they have reached that open entrance; they stand at the gate of prayer. The cares of life all behind and forgotten, heaven iii the eye of faith, what blessings are connected with the effectual prayer of the aged Christian! "Shall I send for our minister, father," said the daughter of Judge Adams, when he was suddenly arrested by the hand of death. "No, my child, it is too late now. If he is right, I am wrong, and I cannot help it. If I am right, you need not trouble yourself." The minister came without request. "Judge Adams, how do you find yourself?" "Very low, very much distressed." "How does the future appear, my friend?" "Dark! dark! I am going I know not where." He turned his face to the wall, and expired. * / or CHAPTER XV. THE RESOLVE. "WELL, to-morrow night comes off the long- expected ball, Mary," said her friend Sarah, skipping joyfully into the room, "-just see, what I have!" said she, holding up a beautifully em- bossed note of invitation, from Capt. Jones, of the light artillery company. "Won't he look finely in his regimentals? How I do admire a noble looking officer. And mother declares I shall look well if Malthy's store can furnish the means? 'I have almost decided what to wear- white tarltan, with four flounces, trimmed with blue rosettes, and Stahl is to curl my hair, and I have purchased the dearest little pair of white Ellsler gaiters and you perceive, I am * * ^ / page: 152-153[View Page 152-153] 152 THE RECORDED WILL. to look perfectly bewitching! There, I have finished my vain speech. Now for you. You don't look excited a bit, Mary," said the lively girl," though I see your invitation lies in the card-basket. What shall you wear?" "I really have hardly thought about it," said Mary, indifferently. "The fact is, I do not wish to go to the assembly, and, if possible, shall get excused." "Why, Mary-! What in the world is the matter -are you sick? Any trouble with Henry?" "No, indeed, Sarah. Henry is always good and constant; but I am not happy. You know I have been to a great many scenes of amuse- ment, and every wish of my heart has been gratified in dress, and all matters of taste; but yet I do not find happiness, and often have I led down the dance, with a heart as heavy as lead. It is not right for me to be there, I am sure." "Mary, you are melancholy, or mopish, or perhaps religious." THE RESOLVE. 153 "No, I am neither; but I cannot accept this invitation I have told Henry, and he does not object. Besides, Sarah, I am not so very singular, or quite alone in my feelings; other girls have told me the same thing-and I have come to the conclusion, that happiness is not to be found in thoughtless gayety." Sarah soon took leave of her friend, whom she truly loved, and now-really pitied., She "could not understand Mary, in the least. The ball-room was just the place for her." Sarah had been educated to think of nothing but the most fashionable attire, to dread no- thing so much as to be out of style. So the toilet was complete -costume perfect- jewels sparkled with unsparing profusion- and Sarah thought herself supremely happy. That evening, Mary was in her chamber, busily engaged in packing her trunk, to go to a neighboring village, to pass a few weeks. She longed to get away from scenes of mirth and vanity, which she could not escape at / page: 154-155[View Page 154-155] 154 THE RECORDED WILL. home. She had heard of some unusual atten- tion to the subject of religion in the village to which she was going, and this decided her. Mary had been taught, in early childhood, that she was a sinner, and had lived to years of maturity unreconciled to God. The last melting tones of a, mother's voice had not died away, "prepare to meet me, Mary." They whispered to her in the gay assembly. They spoke loud and clear, in the midnight hour; and yet the admonition was neglected. The tears shed over the grave of the beloved parent had not softened the heart to penitence for sin; but even the giddy dance, the gay notes of music, the ftting forms of life and happiness which gilded the sky of her youthful fancy, failed to shut away those solemn echoes, "prepare to follow me, Mary." Mary took her seat in the cars, early next morning. CNever will I return home again till I am a Christian," was her deliberate and strong resolve. A few hours' ride brought her to the house THE RESOLVE. 155 of her friends. The salutations over, Mary's first inquiry was, "is there any attention to the subject of religion in the society here?" "Yes -more than usual. A few young people' entertain hope - others are beginning to inquire what they must do to be saved. I am told a meeting is to be held at the house of the pastor, this evening, for inquirers." At the appointed time, the little parlor at the parsonage was filled. The young and the old were there. The Holy Spirit was present, and the worth of the soul was the only and absorbing thought. After the usual conversation with different individuals had occurred, the pastor at length came to Mary. "I am happy to see you here, my young friend; your feelings are probably interested in the great question, 'What shall I do be saved?'" "No, sir, I do not feel any thing at all;" "But surely you are not indifferent." "Yes, sir! I must be stupid, I think, or I page: 156-157[View Page 156-157] 156 THE RECORDED WILL. should not have so long neglected it." (Here the voice faltered a little.) "Mary, why did you come here to-night?" "Only because I wish to be a Christian. I am tired of the world. There is nothing in it. I wish to be a Christian, sir," (emphatically.) "Well, Mary," said the pastor, 'I am glad that even so much interest is felt, by you, in the matter. If it be true that you really de- sire to be a disciple of Christ, you will be one." A few words of encouragement, and instruc- tion, were added. She was directed to survey the long years of wasted life --a God-forget- ting life a thoughtless and self-seeking life. To search through all its records for one single act for his glory, who gave his life for her- to find one tribute of love to H-im to whose service every day and hour should be conse- crated. The next evening, agreeably to appointment, a few young people assembled in the same THE RESOLVE. 157 room, who were rejoicing in hope that they were united to Christ. Mary was there with the rest. The pastor noticed her immediately, and asked "if she hoped she had yielded herself to the Saviour?" "No, sir, I have not." "Why then did you come here, to-night, Mary?" "Because I wish to be a Christian. I wish to know how others become so. I must be one, myself. I wish to attend all the meet- ings." Here she could proceed no further, but burst into tears. The pastor remarked, "thatl in that happy little company, one person was present without hope, and without God in the world. Let us unite in prayer for her, said he. Mary could no longer say, "I feel nothing." From the moment that the strong resolve was formed in the car, as she sat alone, "never will I return home till I am a Christian!" an invisi- " page: 158-159[View Page 158-159] 158 THE RECORDED WILL. ble Hand was extended, which led her directly on to the feet of Jesus. Not many days passed, before she was a happy believer, and the dreams of earthly van- ity were exchanged for the solid pleasures of an earnest Christian. L: CHAPTER XVI. THE COVENANT. THERE are some people in our world who even delight in tracing the divine hand in the little affairs of life. Right or wrong, it certain- ly affords them perennial springs of real com- fort which most things fail to give. Such peo- ple are fond of believing that when the eternal God enters into covenant with his people, it is a more reliable document than can be found in our courts or law offices. It is good to-day, to- morrow and forever. Such a sort of man was my father, and a very happy man he was, too. Fifty years, almost, since he went to heaven, but his cheerful smiling face has not faded out yet. He would go out of his way to find an aged page: 160-161[View Page 160-161] 160 THE RECORDED WILL. pilgrim in some old log house, when on a jour- ney, on purpose to get something from treas- ures of experience, as well as to give something out of the purse; and I doubt not, with all his benevolence he had much the best of the bar- gain. When he returned home, I was always sure to hear some little story of interest, and his way of relating it was so emphatic, that it was fairly written upon the walls of memory.-- Among others was that of a man whom he found in the State of Maine. This man was known in that region as remarkable for his confidence in God - a man of faith and prayer. My father sought him out, and gathered from his lips the following incident. "At one season, after a terrible drought which had consumed my little crops, I was re- duced so low that I had not a morsel of food, and my children were crying for bread. I took my hat and went out yonder, and there I kneel- ed down and prayed thus: 'Oh Lord, thou art a covenant keeping God. Thou didst many THE CO-VENANT. 161 years ago enter into covenant with me, and Thou didst promise me to be a father and friend; to save me from sin and to give me, what is necessary for the body, and then to, take me to thyself. On my part I promised to be a faithful, devoted child; to try to do thy will as long as I lived. I have often failed on my part, I have neglected my duty and come far short in everything. But, oh my God, thou knowest that I have honestly, and with all my heart, tried to be faithful, and obedient, and now I call on thee to do thy part.' Just at this mo- ment I heard a sound over my head, and look- ing up, a large eagle flew over, and dropped at my feet a large fish, just taken from the water. I took it up and carried it home to my family. I always find Him just so faithful. He never disappoints me." Oh, when will the time come, when confi- dence in God's word shall be so universal in the family of Christ, that the spirit of a little child," shall stand out, as a marked peculiarity as in the case of this poor man? page: 162-163[View Page 162-163] CHAPTER XVII. WHO CUT THAT ROPE? ON a fine day in the month of June, a small party, consisting of the clergyman of a large parish in one of our eastern cities, together with a number of the principal members of his church and their families, took a pleasure boat, for an excursion to a neighboring Island, where they were to pass the day in the usual recrea- tions of fishing, a clam bake, and other ac- companiments to such innocent fetivities. Previously to this, however, it should be men- tioned that some earnest efforts had been made by the friends of the Sabbath, to secure its ob- servance by the closing up of Sunday shops, which were uniformly opened on that day in the lower part of the city. These efforts, al- WHO CUT TI-HAT ROPE 163 though mad'e in the real spirit of christian kindness and love, awakened serious opposi- tion among the occupants, whose gains were thus infringed upon, and no arguments or en- treaties could move them from their fixed' de- termination. At length the question was decided by law; and, although the fines of prosecution were heavy, yet even this had no permanent effect. It so happened that the pleasure boat refer- red to, was owned by one of these men. It was a new boat, and by some imperfection of con- struction, was held by its owner to be very un- safe, or 'to use his own terms, "very crank." This however was not known to the party, nor did they hear the terrible oath with which he garnished the wish " that every sofl, minister and people, boat and all hands might go to the bottom." / It was a lovely sail to the Island; all were in fine spirits, enjoying the rich scenery of the noble bay, unequalled for beauty and safety, the navy yard and slight house adding variety page: 164-165[View Page 164-165] 164 THE RECORDED WILL. and interest; fairly out to sea, but so smoothly we glide on without a thought or fear-noth- ing could be nearer perfect- parents, clildren, friends, breathing the pure bracing air, invigor- ating, inspiring, refreshing; who that- has ever lived near the ocean, can cease to remember it as a dear old friend? We have reached the solitary island far too soon. All safely landed, not a particle of sea sickness the whole way. The ladies find a shelter from the hot rays of the sun, and the gentlemen go to get fish. Some of the lads dig a hole in the ground and line it with stones which are thoroughly heat. ed for a clam bake; it is soon filled and covered over. Others of the party take the fish as it comes from the water, and prepare a chowder, -areal New England chowder. Keepstill, old memories: we are now in the western world, far away from the mighty ocean, and all the treasures of the deep. The party sat down to the delicious repast, ;ome with spoons made of the clam shells; the nore rude, the better relish. Then comes the WHO CUT THAT ROPE. 165 bathing in the curling waves which dash upon the beach, or scaling the wild rocks in their solitary grandeur, and exploring the deep fis- sures; the children gather stones and shells. The day is quite too short, but we must now turn our faces homewards. But what has old ocean been about? The waves dash fretfully on the beach. The wind has changed. It meets the tide, and we are to have a rough time of it. One by one we enter carefully the rocking cradle and are seated. The sails are spread. "All aboard," and we tack for home over the "chopped sea." Two experienced Captains are on board, and nothing is to be thought of but the heaving sea, and our own weary, sea-sick selves. On we go, foaming, beating, tacking, heaving; anything but pleas- ure this. In a moment, consternation seizes every one. The boat careens to the water's edge-she dips! Every face is pale; we go down, surely; the sheet which should have been firmly held, is page: 166-167[View Page 166-167] 166 THE RECORDED WILL. knotted. The wind fills the sail; all is in ter- rible confusion. Can it be true? The rope is cut; the sail swings freely. The boat is righted; we are saved. Some have fallen insensible to the bot- tom of the boat, others grasp hands, and look- ing upwards, thank God. "Never did I see that done before," said the, Captain; "who cut that rope?" No one; there was no time, no chance, it was the work of an instant. It was a new rope, "who cut it?" none could tell, no one ever knew. ! Had it not been severed, all the company nust have been swallowed up in the mighty leep. For want of a better name, we call it a aind Providence. At CHAPTER XVIII. ALTIN'SE ISLAND. THE little Island lies under the lofty cliffs of the P. shore, about a mile distant. It was an inheritance descending from ancestors of precious memories, and one family only inhab- ited it. To them no spot on earth compared with that green isle, washed by the waters of the Atlantic; and a lovely abode, indeed, it was, with its silver firs and embowering trees, its fruits and flowers. From the parlor windows you could notice, on every pleasant morning the family boat, loosing from its moorings, and slowly moving across the waters, laden with its goodly cargo of vegetables for market. But on the Sabbath it never failed, summer or winter, storm or page: 168-169[View Page 168-169] 168 THE RECORDED WILL. tempest; that little boat was true to its duty as the church bell. The mother of three-score years, the daugh- ters, six in number, and the two sons, freighted the little vessel; and in tranquil weather, it was a pleasant sight to watch the white sail, gliding over the polished mirrqr, till it reaches the wharf--and see the family group--the aged widow in her weeds of mourning--the neat white dresses, winding up the steep bank. But quiet times were the exception. Old ocean's waves seemed ever in a tumult with the bleak winds, and rapid tides, and narrow channels, through which the wild waves are crowded' in those northern regions. It was a stirring sight to look at the little boat, with its full cargo, moving up and down upon the lashing waves--now buried out of sight, and again triumphantly rising, till the opposite shore was safely reached. It was a fruit of good old puritanism --a thing of habit-of education-this church- Y ALLE N'S ISLAND. 169 going, in all weathers. Not a soul in that fam- was considered a real Christian. The young clergyman noticed it, and pro- phetically said, "they who honor me, I will honor." Years passed by, still they came - always in their seats. At length the fulness of time had come, and the promise was to be fulfilled. One Sabbath, in the early spring, it was observed that a strange stillness pervaded the assembly. The words dropped from the pul- pit with new force and tenderness The preacher felt it-Christians felt it--the thoughtless felt it. All knew that a Divine Presence was in the -house, all heard the unutterable voice of the "Spirit of God, moving on the face of the waters." Such a coming-so still, silent, and unex- pected, (always excepting the few Annas and Simeons) was startling., Only last week they were at a gay assembly, .1 page: 170-171[View Page 170-171] 170 THE RECORDED WILL. with most of the youth of the village, but now, indeed, another scene is opening. All must listen to the heavenly visitor-the old and young hear the voice; they who stay at home and they who go to church. It penetrates every dwelling. It sits at every heart. The veil drops, and eternity, with its real life is spread open. People go about. their business, thinking of eternity; they buy and sell, as usual; but the busy thoughts are weighing the value of the soul; and the solemn pictures of two future worlds hang up behind the counter. Myriad voices speak daily along the path of life, of earthly vanity, of the worth of proba- tion. Soft whispers of admonition to the man of the world, as well as the child of God. It will awake astonishment to look upon the long unfolded record of Ife, and see what calls to prayer--what incentives to faith--to love -to duty, follow the C ristian from his closet out into the world. r But when the Divine Glory fills and per- ALLEN'S ISLAND. 171 vades the assembly of worshippers, and rests, like the pillar of fire by day and the cloud -by night, over a whole community, as is witnessed in a genuine revival of religion, men hear the voice. The lightning's flash reveals the " very thoughts and intents of the soul." The family on the island are among the first to listen. Not long did they linger at the "open door." The mother entered and found rest; the children followed - one, two, four- all followed, all found shelter beneath the wings of Tmmnanuel. The old mansion became the house of prayer; clouds of incense were wafted upward, and henceforth, to C live is Christ." The aged pilgrim found it gain to die, lovely in life, but a believer in death. She exempli- fied the truth, that nothing that God has prom- ised can fail of its accomplishment. page: 172-173[View Page 172-173] CHAPTER XIX. CARS WAIT! WWHAT a iglorious place to dance in," said a young gi rlas she left the evening train of cars, and sprang into the drawing-rooms of the R. house. Suiting the action to the word, and himnming a gay tune, she glided gracefully down the room. As she approached the lounge where I was sitting, Ind 'thrw herself by my side, I said:- "My dear young lady, these rooms have seen many a beautiful group engaged in the whirling waltz. Such a company assembled here one night, gay and happy as yourself. "Two young gentlemen, heated with wine from yonder bar, entered. They soon engaged in dancing; when in some way a slight insult, CARS WAIT. 173. real or unintentional, was offered in the cotil- lon to the vis a vis of one of them. "Her brother instantly drew a revolver, and shot the offender dead. Just there he fell; but the murderer stalked at large, unpunished. "Ah, yes, it is a fine room for a dance; but other scenes are witnessed here. Three weeks ago, I was sitting in the lovely balcony, enjoy- ing the fine view of these lofty heights around our city, and watching the arrival of the eve- ning train. On it came, just as usual, puffing and clattering; it stopped, and forth poured the usual stream of ladies and gentlemen, children and servants. But who could have imagined that one car was laden with corpses? Ghastly, disfigured, broken and bruised, scat- tered limbs -drenched hair-beauty man- gled, silken robes, laces and cloaks, jewels and watches, outer garments, hats and veils, all in mingled confusion- all death's doings in one moment. Plank after plank, bore in the dead! Silently 15, page: 174-175[View Page 174-175] 174 THE RECORDED WILL. they entered, and laid them around this great room. Then followed the sufferers - the bruis- e' and maimed-and who can describe the 'horror of tha scene? The anguish of the wife, as she looks upon the wreck of her young husband! 'The daughter, weeping over :the terrible wounds of her aged father! No time for 'dancing that night. "'It'was'a short 'story. In winding up that dseep ascent, which lies midway on the route, some obstruction overturned the car, and over the rugged rocks it went, making several revo- lutions before it reached the bottom of the ravine. "Grief and tears, sighs and 'grans, echoed in these halls a few days, and then gave way to the merry sound of mirth and-festivity. "The coffins and shrouds-- the ghastly faces and broken limbs, all sweep by, and the solemn lesson is quickly forgotten. "The assembly again fills the rooms. A lovely young lady, of distinction, was to grace the 'aiazourra. CARS WAIT. i75 "The white robes were ornamented with flowers and jewels, for the occasion; all was expectation and pleasure; when a southern fever suddenly arrested her. It raged, and wasted her lovely form. A day or two carried her to the tomb- robed in the splendors of earthly vanity. I saw her laid in the grave, and the undressed spirit stood before its God. C"Asl stood before her open coffin, I could not but think, my dear young friend, that the rose must wither, however beautiful, the dim. pled cheek must wrinkle; the nimble- foot lose its elasticity, the sparkling eye its power to win; but the soul is a gem of eternal endur- ance, to be prepared for happiness or misery." The bell rings! The shrill whistle gives the signal. The lovely girl grasped my hand with moist- ened eyes, and in a moment was lost upon the ceaseless stream of summer travel. God grant we may improve the minutes while the "Cars Wait." page: 176-177[View Page 176-177] CHAPTER XX. a OUR FAt'1a." "MY dear Mrs. A.," said an elderly gentle- man to the lady at whose house he was visit- ing, one evening, " did you know, that under God, you were the instrument of my conver- sion." The lady was indeed surprised, as she re- garded the fine face and speaking eye, which bent down so kindly and earnestly. , "No, indeed, sir, I think you must mis- take?" : "No mistake, my friend, I assure you. When a very little girl, you passed a night at my house, and perhaps you remember sleeping with ETnmma? "After you had retired, I had occasion to go "OUR SCATTH-ER." 1" to a secretary in your room. - As I passed into the room and opened the drawer, I addressed some little question of kindness to you, but there was no answer. "In a few moments you looked up and very pleasantly said: Mr. R., we did not speak, because we were saying 'Our Father!' I always say ' Our Father,' when I go to bed'!" "I stood looking over my papers. I could not speak, I Our Father,' rang in my ear. Soon the low breathing indicated the quiet slumber of childhood. I took up my leger and re- turned to the counting-room. "'Our Father,' echoed the walls of my office. I, too, was a father, had worked hard to get a fortune. Notes and bonds, stocks and pay- ments, were familiar words, but I remembered nothing of ' Our Father!' "My accounts were in confusion, and after vainly attempting to adjust them, I returned home. On the way, past scenes came up -my page: 178-179[View Page 178-179] 178 THE RECORDED WILL. mother's voice- my little crib--the child's prayer, came floating up from forgotten years. "Why should I be an orphan? I cried out upon the world alone. I must say, Our Father,' too. "The Holy Spirit wrote upon my heart the blessed words, and I learned to say, 'Our Father!'- My Father. "That little lisping of your childish voice drew me back to my Father's arms!" t', CHAPTER XXI. WHAT IS THAT TO ME? "So, old Captain Hall is dead. How sud- 1enly he paid the debt lof nature!" said Squire Martin, to his neighbor. Yes, I have been thinking of that great property; I suppose he has willed the whole estate to his wife. How much he thought of her, and not a child in the world! Well, that is the way with us all - work hard and acquire property, and just as we get comfortably set- fled for life, we die, and leave it all." "That is tie course taken, by God, to show us, that this is not our rest; but we should seek another, even an heavenly." That noble stone mansion, which stands on the knoll of ground overlooking the town, is page: 180-181[View Page 180-181] 180 THE RECORDED WILL. now- occupied by the widow. A munificent inheritance, with its beautiful grounds in rich cultivation, carriages, horses, servants, conve- niences, and luxuries. Capt. Hall was highly respected and beloved; a man of influence in public places; his unlim- ited hospitalities attracted visitors and friends, who shared his hearty welcome and generous confidence. But a sudden stroke of apoplexy numbered him with the dead. For a while, the poor widow was inconsol- able. The solitary grandeur of the deserted mansion was terrible to bear. Time, the soother, however, dried away the tears, and visitors again were seen in the princely house, and among them an old friend of her early acquaintance, who was struck with sudden admiration, at the delightful residence and its surroundings. The friends had not met for years; but the easy grace and polished exterior won upon the youthful widow, and to the infinite amazement WHAT IS THAT TO ME? 181 of numerous friends, neighbors, and acquaint- ance - she was suddenly married 1 Gossip busied herself a while, the gentleman was established, to his heart's content, in the old mansion, and all the possessions of the good Captain descended to the new propri- etor. Both parties seemed mutually pleased, and dreamed that all was well. A short time had passed after this new change in the widow's circumstances, when one morning, as they sat at breakfast, the front- door bell rank. The sheriff entered, followed by a notary, commissioned to take inventories. Both seated themselves in the hall, while the hospitable hostess looked inquiringly in the face of her new husband, whose agitation could not be concealed. The sheriff presented an execution, made out in cdue form, amounting to the full value of the fine house, land, furniture, equipages, carriages, horses, all. Her spendthrift husband had accumulated page: 182-183[View Page 182-183] 182 THE RECORDED WILL. large debts, and the creditors only waited for him to have legal possession of:the beautiful estate, to sweep the whole, as a fine specula- tion, into their pockets. Every thing gone at a stroke! What avail the faintings and recoveries, mu- tual explanaticns and recriminations; all must go! Law will have its course. Auction and sheriff's sales soon settled the whole affair, and the property passed into strange hands, to the general indignation of the whole community. During. the excitement of the villagers, a friend and intimate associate of Capt. Hall had the following dream:- He thought his old friend had returned to life, and he met him walking toward him, very slowly, with an expression of deepest solemnity depicted on his countenance. "Capt. Hall," said the friend, " do you know the changes which have taken place since you left us?" ' Yes, but what is that to me?" ," WHAT IS THAT TO ME?" 183 "Did you know that your widow is married again?" C Yes, but what is that to me?" "Do you know that all your fine property is sold at sheriff's sale-all your land, stocks, horses, house, all gone into the hands of the creditors of her new husband?"' Yes, but what is that to me?" Not another word was spoken, or inquiry made. It was a solemn lesson to be remembered and imprinted on the mind, teaching the emp- tiness of earthly possessions, gathered with such toil, preserved with such anxious care, parted with so reluctantly, and left, to no one knows whom. Ah, these fine china closets and silver plate, handed down from generation to generation; the rich damasks and embroideries, the treas- ured wardrobes and jewels. To-morrow! what may they be to me! page: 184-185[View Page 184-185] (CHAPTER XXII. THE WASHERWOMAN. "Do you know of a good washerwoman I could get?" said Mrs. B. to a friend. "Yes, I know of an excellent one, but I fear you will not like to employ her, unless you have a good lock upon your cellar door, and keep a good lookout. She is a, poor creature, who has lately removed into the neighborhood -very neat and tidy, very capable, but no one employs her. Her character is rather questionable in other respects. I confess I should hesitate to admit her to my house," added the lady. Mrs. B. was a woman of reflection, and not the person to dismiss hastily an opportunity of doing good, and after her friend had with- THE WASHERWOMAN. 185 drawn, her mind quickly ran over the conver- sation. "Why had this poor girl come to this village of, refinement and morality to take shelter? why nestle down in that low brown house beneath the very droppings of the sanc- tuary? A ray of light, perchance, has been thrown into the darkness of her soul, and she follows it. I must look into this matter," thought Mrs. B. On inquiry it proved that truth had in this case exceeded the scandal. Far worse and more deplorable the condition of poor M., than was represented. No matter for that, c I need not go forth to seek the lost," said Mrs. B., cshe has come to me." M. was sent for, to do a day's work. On her single arm rested a decrepit old mother, and with the strong sinews and stronger will, she washed out a maintenance for two young chil- dren, taken out of the hands of a worthless sister, and adopted as her own. Love finds its way from the highest heaven into the lowest hovel. It lived and burned in the breast of this poor girl, over the ashes of 16' i page: 186-187[View Page 186-187] 186 THE RECORDED WILL. blasted hopes, lost reputation, and forsaken al- most, she thought, " by God and man." No lock went on the cellar door. No wateh- ing eye looked after the pantry, glanced at the sugar barrel, or counted the eggs. The flour -and apples, butter and bread, enjoyed their usual quiet. The washing was neatly and thoroughly done, the usual compensation given, and a com- fortable piece of pork dropped into the bundle whibh was put in M's hand as she departed. I should have mentioned that when the bell was rung for morning prayers, M. was particularly invited to enter the parlor with the family. Slowly she left her tub, as if doubting wheth- er to accept the privilege, and dropped into a seat in the farthest corner. It followed, as a matter -of course, that she was not forgotten in the prayer. ( The next week, M. was again at the wash- tub; steadily and silently she went on for some weeks, when one morning Mrs. B. said, "M., I do not see you at church; we all go to I donts tcu THE WASHERWOMAt . 187 meeting in this village"' The tears fell fast, while she replied, "I have no cloak to wear. I have the materials, but no one will make it for me." "Bring your cloak to me, M.," said Mrs. B., "I will make it this week." Saturday night the cloak went home, and with it, a straw bonnet which had done good service, and was ready for more. Every Sab- bath, M. was noticed in a distant part of the church, near the door, and very soon the two little girls took their places in the Sabbath- school. Every week, M. was at the parsonage. No one feared her. She went down cellar when necessary. Nothing was missing. Her face, though very sad, was gradually gathering the expression of conscious integrity. At length Mrs. B. ventured to draw near the citadel of the soul, if possible, to discover its real condition. "M.," said she tenderly one day, "'do you know that you have a soul that cannot die, nor can it live with God, unless it is renewed and washed in the blood of Jesus?" page: 188-189[View Page 188-189] 188 THE RECORDED WILL. The bruised reed bent low - the head sank down, and M. burst into a torrent of tears. "Oh, Mrs. B., indeed I do, I am so distressed I can hardly live. I have not had a minute's peace since I came into this house." "Why so, M.?" "The first time your husband prayed for me, I thought how can it be, that I never prayed for myself, when he feels so much for me?" M. was quickly told, "that there was room enough for her in the great redemption, a place for her in her Father's mansions." She listen- ed eagerly to the glad tidings of great joy for all people, not excepting even her. M. believ- ed the good news; she accepted, and it was hoped she was at peace with God. Time went on, work came in. The little brown house was made comfortable. A nice rocking-chair and soft mat were sent in for the old mother. The children went to school. The once comfortless abode was no longer a dark spot in the lovely village, but a pleasant little channel for kindly words, benevolent im- THE WASHERWOMAN. 189 pulses, and deeds of love to flow through, springing out from the beautiful edifices and comfortable dwellings around the old church. But M's journey was to be a short one. Probation was nearly ended when the Provi- dence of God led her under the shadow of the old church. A sudden fever attacked her in mid summer, and with her dying eye resting upon the Saviour of sinners, she left the world. Let us thank God for every opportuiity to lighten the weight of sorrow, or lead the wan- derer back to the fold. page: 190-191[View Page 190-191] CHAPTER XXIII. FORTY YEARS AGO. IT was a dry, sultry day, that a walk through a dusty lane brought me to a rickety old house, standing alone in the suburbs of a New Eng- land city. Windows broken, stuffed rags, gates unhinged, and other tokens of poverty and neglect, told the story. A woman of sad coun. tenance, but of neat and agreeable aspect, appeared at the door. In few words, I told my errand; it was to gather up children for the Sabbath school. She hesitated, but invited me in. A group of little ones were around her, in the midst of which, I noticed one of singular beauty. She is now in the grave, and I may speak of her countenance, as the most lovely specimen of FORTY YEARS AGO. 191 childhood innocence; the mild, dark eyes shaded by long curling lashes, would have attracted the notice of any one. "Would you like to go to the Sabbath school, my little girl?"I said. Oh, yes, ma'am, with all my heart, but I fear I cannot-" (a slight shade of sadness passing over the sweet features). "Do you think I can go, mother?" "I do not know," was the mournful reply. It was evident, that some reluctant consent was to be obtained, before a promise could be given. The mother was gently encouraged to send Carrie and the other children, who were old enough, if possible, to the school. Sympathy would have dropped balm into the scorched and withered soul, such as are found hid away in dark corners in our cities; -but forty years ago the drunkard's home was not disturbed by the temperance reform, or the Maine liquor law, as in our happier days. Griefs went on and finished up their short page: 192-193[View Page 192-193] 192. THE RECORDED WILL. work, and a generation of drunkards found an early grave. Next Sabbath, I took my station where I could observe the door, and soon noticed my little friend, and I do not know which was hap- piest, Carrie or her teacher, as I led her to the classm Many long walks had been taken through the lanes and alleys -many scholars gathered; but how richly was I paid for all, by the con- versation that followed between my little scholar and myself, that day. Carrie had already learned the name of Jesus! In her sad home of untold griefs and sufferings, she had found her way to the Saviour of sinners, and the friend of children. It was a real gem, like the lump of gold turned up, after long and patient digging. That old north church, with its five hundred children collected every Sabbath, may pass away from the memories of the next genera- tion, but its records are on tables written by the finger of God. FORTY YEAKS AGO. l93 Busy work -thorough work, the teachers made of it. Highways and hedges were ex- plored---all the little ones were taken by the hand, and gathered into that school. Forty years I have been a teacher, but not school like that! Most of -its teachers are angels now- ministering spirits to the heirs of salvation. Many of its scholars are white-robed cherubs beforesthe throne! In that school began the song to Him who loved them and washed them from their sins. There was something about this little Carrie, so much of love, of simple piety, of grateful humility, that it were impossible to feel only an ordinary share of affection., She was a member of my class for years - and the love was mutual. Little notes passed and repassed; little difficulties submitted to older experience -little helps and comforts--refreshing dew- drops in the parched journey of life. Link followed link in the chain of Divine Providence, until Carrie was adopted into the, family of her pastor, having fairly won her 17 page: 194-195[View Page 194-195] 194 THE RECORDED WILL. / way to a position above her hopes or expecta- tions- not a servant, but a child beloved. Here were excellent friends a nursery of piety -books enough -- education advanced. Carrie grows up a lovely, blooming girl. Her hand was solicited in marriage, by a worthy young man who was urging his way to the ministry. Carrie was the wife of a clergy- man, her sphere of usefulness was equal to her utmost wishes. Years passed on, she became the mother of a numerous family,but the earthly work was to be finished at noon-day. Carrie was called home. Few more lament- ed, few so beloved. Few go so safely, few die so gloriously. Every true Christian is a worker. If a thought of sorrow can enter heaven, it must be lost opportunities! Highways and hedges were not crowded with immigrants forty years ago, as they now are. Why are they brought to our shores by thousands, and fill our thoroughfares, line the FORTY YEARS AGO 195 streets and alleys, but to call out the labor- ers! Where are the youthful teachers the self-consecrated workers, who go forth to bring them all in, that the house may be full. Fifty years the prayer has gone up for the perishing world. The answer is given- the doors of our country are open to every nation under heaven. Let protestant Christians un- derstand God's wonderful working, and not suffer this pr cious harvest to be gathered by others. Golden gems are to be found - lovely flow- ers, yet to be trained for the temple in the Paradise of God. page: 196-197[View Page 196-197] CHAPTER XXIV. THE INDIANS. "Now let me give you a piece of advice, as you are a stranger here," said a very kind and obliging neighbor. "Those Indians will tor- ment you out of all patience; the most arrant beggars in the world, and so bold and presum- ing! Besides, they are not to be trusted. I know them well, and when I see them stalking up to the house, I just fasten the door." The young wife sat musingly, as her new friend departed: "I am so sorry; I love to see their bright faces, and some of the squaws are really pretty. They look poor and destitute; I thought I could help them a little." It was in mid winter. Snow heaps rose grandly before the door, twelve feet high. In THE INDIANS. 197 these northern regions, nature comes forth in her boldest creations, and climate in her most rigorous forms. The long tedious winter fol- lowed by the long, chilly spring; and then by way of compensation, summer comes to unveil a scene of inimitable beauty, the snow-wreaths clinging to the mountain precipices, yielding to the living green which clothes forest and field. The wild foaming ocean urging its rushing waters around the bold headland through the craggy sides of the narrow channel, to seek a quiet repose in the encircling bay; thriving farms and villages, innumerable islands spring- ing up in the bosom of the waters, dressed in perpetual green. Huge overhanging cliffs, rearing their heads hundreds of feet over the narrow stream which divides the United States from the British Possessions, and which is whitened by every sail; altogether form a pic- ture of surpassing loveliness and sublimity. Summer rushes on, scattering abundance in fourfold measure, doing up her work fast and well. Everything grows in a hurry, and where 17* page: 198-199[View Page 198-199] '198 THE RECORDED WILL. in the world can you find better vegetables than on the southern shores of Maine? One bright frosty morning, as Emily was seated by the parlor window, she saw three tall Indians making their way up the steps. i She sprang to the door, and stood a moment doubt- ing if it were best to turn the key. The sons of the forest wait for no idle ceremonies. In they walked, with a cheerful "good morning, sister." Coarse blankets, quite the worse for wear, covered their shoulders, and thinly clad for the inclement season, they seated themselves be- fore the fire, and soon proceeded to chat to- gether, with merry faces, about the various ar- ticles of furniture, as Emily supposed, though she could not comprehend a word. This good nature and, simple confidence stir- red the fountain of kind feeling, and Emily was in the pantry preparing a good breakfast, advice and admonition all forgotten, and quite thrown away upon her young, loving heart. A cup of coffee, a slice of cold meat and THE INDIANS. 199 bread were quickly ready, the rude brothers looking on with quiet satisfaction. Smiling looks and pleasant jests helped on the refresh- ing meal, and after all was finished, something remained for the bag, an essential part of an Indian's equipage. Pleasant Point was but a few miles distant from the village, and often might be seen the little birch canoe, with its blanket sail. A sanap at the oar, and the squaw and pappooses in company, gliding over the rough waters with admirable skill in their fragile bark, laden with moccasins, baskets and other wares of Indian handicraft. Pleasant voices were often heard at the back door by Emily. "Buy 'em basket, sister?" Little .gifts dropped in for the blue eyed baby, their particular admiration, of cradled dolls fastened in true Indian style for the moth- er's shoulders, and in return, a joint of meat, or measure of meal, or bit of flannel seemed ever at hand, and never missed by TEmily. They never troubled her by insolence or rudeness, page: 200-201[View Page 200-201] 200 THE RECORDED WILL. but many a winter's day were they warmed at her kitchen fire, and fed by her bounty. The old chief finds his way to the parsonage and partakes its hospitalities. He bows his head reverently at the name of Jesus, in the family supplications, and on the still Sabbath morning, the little birch canoe comes floating down the bay. Tall, straight bodied youth have come to worship for the first time, in a Protestant church. They sit in the family pew, decked in the glorious array of Indian magnifi- cence, with the bright silver medals and beads, and moccasins and leggins. One kindly word threw around these rude -children of the for- est, the golden chain of love. What so much wanted in this rich and bountiful world of ours, as Love? more Love? v CHAPTER XXV. THE OLD RED PARSONAGE. THAT primitive old town on the Cape! How well I remember its rude rocks and deep val- leys, its clear streams and sweet rural shades; but nothing so clearly as the little Red Par- sonage on the top of the hill, where grandpa- rents lived and prayed, where the family altar stood quietly for nearly half a century- its flame unquenched! Where the large, round table was surrounded with children, besides the one who sat in the corner reading the Bible aloud, while the rest partook of the meal- Where the children stood up in a row every Sabbath night to say the catechism, from be- ginning to end, to grandfather, in his arm- page: 202-203[View Page 202-203] 202 THE RECORDED WILL. chair! Dear Old Parsonage, with its apple-pud- ding, brown bread, and pumpkin pie memo- ries! And the good old meeting-house, where grandfather preached forty years! Time enough to give a score of ministers in these days. The square pews and uncushioned seats - the good old men, with solemn faces, and the good old women, with queer bonnets; but precious jewels they were, in those days, and precious stones have been gathered, for nearly two cen- turies, for the temple above. In eternity we may, perhaps, find out whether the thought which dropped into the heart of the English nobleman (Manchester,) who&bore the name of this little town, to send them, as a legacy, whole sets of Baxter's works, had any thing to do in the matter. It is certainly a question, how it happened that so much faith and prayer should be con- centrated in one little spot so many years, if Baxter had nothing to do with it? When a THE OLD RED PARSONAGE. 203 little child, they took me to the house of one of the Enochs who had recently ascended, and they pointed to a spot on the well-worn floor, where he rose from his bed every night, for prayer, for thirty years! It was my happiness to look once more upon these peaceful hills, before the iron horse began his tread upon the hallowed soil. The Baxter spirit yet lives. There is old Mrs. B., once in affluent circumstances, her husband the wealth- iest man in town. She has lived to bury him - to see fourteen children laid in the grave, and one only, a cripple, remains, and she is supported by the town. With a face serenely beautiful, she spoke only of the goodness of God-His faithful, tender care. She is all love," the people say, "nothing but love."- Could the good Lord M. have known what plants of righteousness would grow in that favored soil, nourished and enriched by his benevolence, how would his heart have ex- ' , page: 204-205[View Page 204-205] 204 THE RECORDED WILL. panded with joy! One by one they are trans- planted to the heavenly garden; and who shall ,say, how long the Baxter spirit shall hover over and bless that little town? , \ CHAPTER XXVI. THE BROTHERS' LEAGUE. THAT upper room was the place of prayer, Every week they met-those six or eight brethren, and prayed, and sang, and conversed together. They were men of prayer, and such are strong men intellectually; communing with great thoughts clears the mental eye, as much as it improves the heart. Bible men they were, and bible students are strong men, usually. Resorts of pleasure there are in crowded cities, assemblies for the dance and the viol, social parties and merry feastings; and lower still, haunts where the vices do congregate, where loud and vulgar riot holds revelry at the gambling board, and the bar, inviting con- 18 page: 206-207[View Page 206-207] 206. THE RECORDED WILL. genial spirits to its swelling ranks, polluting and withering the fair features of society. But little streams of life-giving power, glide onward through the moving masses, spreading verdure and beauty. Blessings on the philanthropy that enters the haunts where the police only made visits of inquiry, and the watchman sprang his rattle. Blessings on him who descends to the lowest den of vice and misery, not merely to find scenes to depict in yellow-covered pamphlets, not to sentimentalize over a temporary relief; but to uncover the darkness, throw in light, purify and save. Blessings on five-penny savings banks, news- boys' lodging-rooms, clean, sweet homes for thieving little vagabonds, incipient blacklegs. Blessings for a church where old Brewery stood, and for hymns of praise and prayer to God from the Five Points! Blessings on model farm-schools and private retreats for morality, for candidates of all ages and sexes! One hundred millions could be spared from THE RROTHERS' LEAGUE. 207 the national treasury for the Mexican war; but who may tell the good accomplished by the battle against principalities and powers of sin! Bible truths are heard every Sabbath, in city and in country; the children are taught the one great thing which is necessary to know- a Saviour from sin! Benevolent institutions take up every form of human suffering. Pray- ers ascend from many altars, morning and eve- ning, and heavenly places are here and there, where the ladder reaches from earth to heaven, and the angels go up to carry the prayers, and come down laden with blessings. Glide on, little streams - glide on, purifying and sparkling, bright and clear, swelling as you go, till the "River of God- is full of water." The learned and the simple, met in that up- per room, but they bowed together as equals; brothers they were. Bands of love made them one here, and now they are one forever. Most of them lie, side by side, in the same church-yard. It was a pleasure to know those men. The men of prayer you can select in any church. page: 208-209[View Page 208-209] 208 THE RECORDED WILL. The seal is on their brow; there is no mistake. Even the infidel withholds the sneer from these men. He calls them honest. It is a dangerous thing when an infidel believes a man to be a hypocrite. It is apt to be so. It was a happy circumstance, that I was permitted to witness the death-bed of many of these brethren. It was a treasure well invested in the store-house of memory. A thousand times have I thought of them, and never without the reflection, that praying men usually die well. The first I remember was Dea. H-----, a man-of fine exterior-- a placid, high forehead rose over a pair of mild eyes, which reminded you of the disciple John. He was a man of severe domestic affliction, stern lessons daily in the school of discipline so perfectly subdued the strong spirit, that it became the little child, fit for the kingdom of heaven. Hearing of his illness, I hastened to the house, and went directly to his chamber. A pleasant smile illumined his face. "I am going, THE BROTHERS' LEAGUE. 209 Emily, going! so thankful that the Master has called me." "Oh, no," Deacon H----, you cannot yet be spared." The church thought so too, and every day they met in the "upper chamber," for prayer. The fever raged, but the church sent up the supplication, and it was heard. A favorable change took place, to the surprise of the physicians, and Deacon H--- was again in the prayer-meeting. Just one year longer he was permitted to pray--the final call came. He was wanted in the world of 'praise, and the life-work of prayer was ended. Another of those was Uncle M---- , as he was familiarly called. It should have been Uncle Moses'- for the meekest man in P--- was Uncle M---- . Just step into that sad- dler's shop, and look at him. -With his leather apron on, he works hard at his trade, occasion- ally dropping aphorisms of wisdom from his lips, that seldom uttered a word too much. Two or three gentlemen you may always see seated on the side benches--a rude place for them, 18' page: 210-211[View Page 210-211] 210 TEE RECORDED WILL. -for they tread on soft carpets, and repose on rich ottomans. The.. learned and the wise, the rich and the poor love to go to that shop. A perfect man in his generation, a consistent Christian in life, it was not strange that char- iots of fire waited around his death-bed. Sing, brothers, sing! "Descend from heaven, immortal Dove, "Stoop down and take me on thy wings." So passed away Uncle M . Bands of angels seemed to fill the room, and songs of praise wafted the spirit home. Others could be named of kindred spirit, and of as peaceful and blessed departure from earth. We rear no monument, and build no sepulchre to their worth. It is enough that their names are in the book of life. CHAPTER XXVII. THE DREAM. "CAPTAIN Harris has just breathed his last," said my neighbor Simpkins, hastily entering the door. "Is it possible; that he who was yesterday in health, and opulent ease, is gone? Left all his inmense possessions? Can it be true?" "Yes, we have now a national scourge, as the cholera may fairly be called. Every sum- mer the terrible enemy is with us, taking off our best people. It is sad to look, into the street -you meet a funeral at every corner; and so silent; no usual tokens of the tolling bell and long processions; but. the more secretly they are dropped out of sight, the better, for fear of a panic, you know. .But I look at my- , page: 212-213[View Page 212-213] 212 THE RECORDED WILL. self, and everybody else, as a shadow, in these days. Every man should make his will, when cholera is sweeping round us. Whole families cut down, and houses shut up. It is really mournful. God's judgments are surely in the country drought and pestilence--but" ad- ded Mr. Simpkins, more cheerfully, "I am told Capt. Harris died very happy! all submission! willing to go. Such a comfort to his poor wife." Thus saying, Simpkins left me to my own re- flections. Ready to die!"A man who has spent the whole of life in adding field to field, house to house - thousands to thousands - utterly re- gardless of his soul, is suddenly arrested, and in a few hours called to give account for the manner in which all this wealth has been used, called to reap the harvest of a few years wholly given to the one business of making and hoard- ing money! Does not the physician well understand the nature of such a submission, as he pours into the parched lips the soothing, stupefying drugs? THE DREAM. 213 And how often do we meet such cases, as if the whole preparation for the sublime and awful realities which are to meet the disembodied spirit, as it rushes out of life, consists in a quick and dreamy willingness to go! what stupid infat- uation! As I sat ruminating over these mel- ancholy thoughts, a heaviness came over the senses, and I had the following dream. A sick man, my neighbor, lay pillowed and supported by friends the kindest and best, watching, waiting and comforting the sufferer. Physicians were in attendance on each side of the couch. The Day Book and Leger had been called for; the bewildered head had cast up the figures as the trembling fingers ran down the columns. Long and wearily the work went on; page after page turned over, and with a heavy sigh, the books closed up, and the sick man ut- tered "ten thousand dollars! only ten thous- and; heaven lost for ten thousand! a life-time for only ten thousand; an eternity for ten thousand!" page: 214-215[View Page 214-215] 214 THE RECORDED WILL. "Make haste," said a solemn voice. I glanc- ed over the pillows. There he sat, the tyrant! There he sat looking down upon the ghastly features;-" make haste/' he said again. None but myself saw the grim monster, none but myself heard the sick man's self-accusa- tions. "Forty years gone. Ice- more ice! I al- ways intended to be a Christian. I went to church. I gave to the poor. I educated my children. I provided well for my family, but oh, I forgot my God." "Make haste," whispered death, as he looked at the watch he held between his fingers. "Ice! I thirst!" said the poor sufferer. "Oh, that I had not a penny to leave behind me; but oh, that I had a place to lean my head up- on. Oh, for a 'hand to guide me through this fearful valley. Forgotten God! the life sin. I was taught in childhood to know him. I was taught to pray. A thousand times did my mother pray for me; oh, my mother." N THE DREAM. 215 "Make haste!" said the figure behind the curtains. The sick man tossed wildly; "I must leave all; my wife, my children, my house, my farm, my store, all! all! - must go alone! poor wast- ed life; only ten thousand! honors, reputation, wealth, all worthless; miserable idiot. I intend- ed to be a Christian; Ice! ice!" "The hour is gone," said the spectre, looking at the watch. "Come, I am ready." Death never waits; when he says" come;' all obey. Instantly the pallor spread over the forehead and features. The tossing limbs drop- ped heavily. With a deep groan he was gone. Friends saw the agony; they-thought it the mortal strife. The spirit's terrible reckoning with itself, was alone in the death-hour. Sel- dom revealed is the fatal secret then so clearly told by the conscience, of a lost life and lost eternity. They beheld the anguish, but were comforted that it was so soon over. "He died so peacefully!" said Aunt Martha. "How calm and tranquil he looks! a heavenly expression." page: 216-217[View Page 216-217] 216 THE RECCORDED WILL. The limbs were composed and nicely prepar- ed. The coffin dress must be of the richest ma- terials, every arrangement the most tasteful and elegant. "Perhaps it is better to appear dress- ed in the usual costume." Aunt Martha con- sidered a shroud the more appropriate and be- coming. Satin, lawn, book-muslin, flannel, all come to array the poor remains. "Beautifully laid out. Splendid coffin," the people said. Mourning claims its share of attention. So much to be done. Dress makers, milliners, friends, all busy with scissors and needles. The house, too, must be arranged. Great bustle, great preparations; a supper for the friends, washing, cleaning, baking, roasting all round the house, all for the body, all for cus- tom, all for this poor little life; for a hand- breadth, a vapor, a spider's web. But the soul, the soul had winged its way to the Judge of all the earth, to meet the solemn questions of a Saviour neglected, a God forgotten! And thus with pomp and eulogy pass away from the world, talents which could sway the l / ' THE DREAM. 217 general opinion, and decision and judgment; which could secure confidence; but if no song of praise ascend from the daily life, no record of grateful love be hung up in eternity, what avails the towering grandeur which sweeps through life like a meteor! "Suppose," said the eloquent Chalmers, "that all the trees of the field should, once be permit- ted to send forth a song of praise to God, from which would you expect the loudest and sweet- est; from the tall overshadowing oak of a thou- sand years, or the little humble russet weed at its foot?" Walk through society, and mark the- lofty trees -among men of the world, who combine all rich and graceful accomplishments, all grand and noble conceptions, all generous and high souled impulses. They are the admiration of i'the age, and pass away like a full orbed sun. "What shall it profit a man to gain the whole world, and lose his own soul " 19 . . page: 218-219[View Page 218-219] CHAPTER XXVIII. MSSIONARIES' TRIALS. "WHY do you not describe these facts that you have stated more publicly, that the world may know more of the real sufferings of mis- sionaries? I often hear the unworthy sneer- 'Oh, the missionaries have very comfortable times- tropical regions plenty of fruit, lem- ons and oranges, bananas and guavas, grapes and figs, pine-apples! Gentlemen of leisure, supported by friends at home, on a foreign soil.' Now, a few sketches of the true picture, would set the matter right. "Luxuries to be had, but no money to pur- chase; quite different resources from those enjoyed by the native of those hot climates, in the torrid zone, smoking their hookah on the MSSIONARIES' TRIALS. 219 imperial mats, fanned by slaves, and cooled by sherbet and snow. "Missionaries do not sufficiently state their trials and difficulties, or they would enlist more sympathy at home. cMy dear Mrs. Landon," replied the lady, who had spent many long years, of toil and self-denial, on a foreign shore, "when we leave our native shores, we leave all for Christ and his cause, and therefore every unlooked for comfort, is so much clear gain. But, as you desire it, I will state a few of the lesser evils of our lot, hardly to be called trials. "Last week, when the heat was so intense, every one said,' how dreadful is the heat! so scorching, I cannot live, I am sure!' "I thought to myself, now just increase this temperature ten degrees, instead of reclining in these cool rooms, fanning and indulging in the siesta, when agreeable-go out after a hasty and unpalatable breakfast, in the burning sun; walk to the school, where I labored so many years; enter a heated, crowded room, impreg- page: 220-221[View Page 220-221] 220 THE RE'CORDED WILL. nated with the breath of the unwashed and un- tidy children; go home, at noon, and with the help of your man-servant, prepare the 'dinner for your family, and the stranger who is s often at your gate; then go back in the scorcJ ing heat, through the narrow streets, to your labor of love. "Weary and worn at night, you retire to your couch for refreshment and pleasant dreams. Oh, no, my friends, not so fast. The musquitoes and fleas are holding high holiday. Your little boy's night dress is completely cov- ered. The stone floor is covered with them, two thirds of the year, until the extreme heat drives them away." A missionary friend, whose praise is in the churches, said to me, "When I first went to Ceylon, I was continually alarmed by feeling the centipedes and lizards creeping over me, at night, and the insects singing in countless num- bers around my head. So I went to my trunk, and took a piece of unbleached muslin, and with tacks, nailed it up all round my room. MSSIONARIES' TRIALS. 221 This was delightful, as there was no ceiling. "Now, I could sleep. Now, I id not fear to find the stings on my baby's face; but soon, I was called to the low huts of the native women, to sit with the dying, and tend the sick. "Here the insect tribe reigned triumphantly. The fact was also clear, I must become used to it, just as the natives do. "A lady, of good sense, once remarked to me;' call a matter a trzal, and it becomes so.' So I concluded that it was good philosophy. The centipedes, and spiders, and fleas, and mosqui- tos, and all other creeping things, and flying things, should be called tormentors no more. "The white cloth came down, and the insects permitted to enjoy themselves as heretofore." No, we must not call such trifles afflictions. The Apostle Paul has taught us better. But still I do believe, when the final record of missions is opened, and the trials of our Eastern and our Western missionaries are all spread out before an intelligent universe, it will be said of them 19* page: 222-223[View Page 222-223] THE RECORDED WILL. "These are te who have come out of great tribulation. They have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb." I have been assured, by a missionary, whose word no one could doubt, that in a time of scarcity among the Ojibwas, he and his family were sustained by berries, and nothing else, for three weeks; and again for a month on hulled corn. Every barrel of flour cost twenty-nine dollars, carried in bags over the portages by dogs. He stated also, that after great effort, they succeeded in obtaining a cow, which was a rich treasure to the mission family; when a slight quarrel between two warriors, ended in shooting the animal in presence of the mission- aries; not however from any ill will to them, but to resent a private injury. The loss was irreparable, but must be born with meekness Such facts as these, were drawn forth reluc- tantly, from the happy missionary, who would not exchange his labors for Christ and the per- ishing Indians for all the luxuries with which he was familiar at home. Five hundred miles in the deep forest, far beyond civilization, in a station reached only by footpaths, are brothers and sisters wearing out their strength in these labors, uncheered by the face of a white person, from year to year, who were once cherished as tenderly and as delicately as any one. Rich and glorious will be their reward; but have we nothing to do: by way of sympathy and prayer? Let us look and see! page: 224-225[View Page 224-225] - ! i lj } 1l Q CH'A-PTER XXIX'. THE STBGERS - R TiHE hotel was crowded, the busyseason of travel had fairly set in, and all the world wi s moving by steam. "Young ladies," said the landlord, addressing two strangers who had come from different cars, "I can only accommodate you with one room, to-night, which I regret; but it is large and airy." The young people glanced at each other, but as there was no choice in the matter, proceeded at once to the stairs. "I am so tired, I could sleep on a board," ex- claimed the elder of the two, as she threw her- self on a lounge, and at the same moment drew out the comb from her beautiful hair, which fell in rich profusion over her shoulders. THE STRANGERS. 225 "So hot, and dusty to-day, and such a stupid ride in the crowded cars." "Indeed,"'said the younger, whom we shall call Helen, "I have enjoyed it highly. The country is new to me, and- the scenery delight- ful." iSaying this, she opened her travelling bag and drew out a small volume, and seating herself by the lamp, on the table, commenced reading, while her companion retired to rest. "What are you reading so earnestly?" said Miss Grey. It is the Bible," Helen replied. "I am ac- customed to read a chapter or two, at night, and the habit is so pleasant, I do not like to omit it while travelling." "The Bible; well it will do very well for Sunday, of course, but I am too sleepy for that, I assure you. I like to take in my travelling basket, a monthly, or volume of Dickens, or something exciting. But you do not pretend to be interested in that old fashioned book?" "I believe I could convince you that I love the Bible better than any book in the world; at page: 226-227[View Page 226-227] 226 THE RECORDED WILL. all events, it has been my dear companion for many years, and I do not wish to part with it." "Now, do you speak truly?" said Miss Grey. ' I always thought people read the Bible, usual- ly as a matter of form, a sort of duty to be got through with. I have heard it read for years in the family, but no one thinks of saying a word about it. If it is so very interesting, why do not people talk about it, as we girls do about the last novel we have read? Nothing I admire so much as to discuss this and that character, and talk over scenes which I read, and this keeps them fresh in memory, yo'u know.' "I thought," replied Helen, "that people who truly love the Bible, do exactly that thing. I, too, have heard the Bible read for years, in my father's family, and neverwithout some pleas- ant conversation. Father reads a few verses, and asks questions, just as freely as he would with any other book. The more difficult ones, mother answers. We all enter into it, from the oldest to the youngest, and then some use- THE STRANGERS. 227 ful thoughts are impressed on our minds so tenderly, that it makes us all feel that the Bible is our book." "Well, that is a different affair entirely; if you see that the Bible is father's book, and mother's book it is quite easy to make it yours, of course; but "here a pause followed, when Miss Grey exclaimed, "oh, dear, I would give the world to be a'real, genuine Christian. I have thought so a hundred times." Helen's heart beat quickly, as she heard these words so frankly expressed, and she lift- ed the silent prayer that the opportunity so unexpectedly given, might not be lost. The night was far advanced, before' the young strangers ceased speaking. There was much to say, and much to be heard. Helen, naturally timid and retiring, seemed inspired with unwonted courage, and clearness; persuasion and argument were at command, and a strength not her own, im- parted. She felt a strong conviction, that im- pressions were left upon the thoughtless young page: 228-229[View Page 228-229] 228 THE RECORDED WILL. r . girl, who had thus been thrown in her way. 'Next morning they separated, each for their different homes. Years passed by, and these young people had never again met, or heard of each other, when it happened that a series of meetings for benevolent purposes was held in the town where Helen resided. A stranger called on her. She entered the room, rushed across the floor, and embraced her as an old friend. "Do you not remember Miss Grey, and the night in Boston? To you I am indebted for the only true happiness I have ever known. You were the first person who ever spoke to me directly about my eternal welfare, and therefore I believed you to be truly a Christian, although I doubted the sincerity of others, for this very reason, that they let me alone. "Your kind and earnest manner, dear Helen, led me to Christ, and melted my heart; and besides, it so illustrated the power of influence, that whenever I meet a thoughtless young person, I remember you." CHAPTER XXX. THE STREAM OF EMGRATION. THE cars come in! Long freight trains, pas- senger cars, emigrant cars, by dozens. Little Irish heads, and Dutch heads, peeping out of the windows. They stop. Out' pours the stream- parents and grand-parents, children and babies, by hundreds; rosy-cheeked women, with clean caps, and fathers, 'with tea-kettles and trunks, all wending up the steep bank, cheerful and happy. Go to the pier-be it stormy or pleasant, on they come, in swelling ranks, summer and winter-on they come; impelled by our free institutions, our rich lands, and love of adven- ture, the stream flows on. Another tide of emigration which has been 20 page: 230-231[View Page 230-231] 230 THE RECORDED WILL. constant, unwavering, ever increasing from the beginning of creation. Its ranks are never thin. Its regiments complete. Passing through every village, every town and city; passing on from every continent, every shore, every island, every ocean. Once in thirty years, a thousand millions touch the shores of the unknown country. A thousand millions more will soon join them, and while I write, the stream of emigration presses on - to the Eternal Port! She was beautiful. She had been queen of the May, first in the waltz, the admired, the loved--flattered, and idolized, by her worldly parents and friends. She thought life was a beautiful dream, a succession of conquests. A spendid home, iqui- page, jewels, dress! What else could a young lady desire? Where find a rival? So thought I, as I turned into the avenue which led to her magnificent home, whither I had been summoned by her almost heart-bro- ken mother. THE STREAM OF EMGRATION. 231 Nicely gravelled, winding paths--flowers, carefully tended, blooming in beauty; green lawns, studded with trees, stretching on to the lake shore, whose waters shone clear as crystal. Steamers passing and repassing before the door -altogether an Eden in beauty. Will the grim tyrant venture up these wind- ing walks, and show his features at that elegant abode? As I was ushered into the dark drawing- rooms, a full length portrait of Louise, met my eye, taken in Paris, in her last trip to Europe. There was elegance in every line of the group- ing and finish, and I sighed to think the beau- tiful original could fade and die! What has art left undone, to give grace and richness to these luxurious rooms? But what admiration do those paintings obtain now? or what matter if the spider is allowed to weave its threads around the vases of Parian mar- ble? What matter how the casket is adorned, when 'the gem is gone? page: 232-233[View Page 232-233] 232 THE RECORDED WILL. And can the rapacious hand of death steal into this palace, and bear away the only child and h6ir to all that proud domain? What place have hearses, and shrouds, and coffins, and plumes, and chargers, before a door like this - where fashion, and gaiety, and dancing, and music, alone have held sway? We go through the long hall, up the stair- case. We enter the chamber of Louise! There she lay, supported by the pillows; her rich curls fell gracefully around the pale brow; The windows were open, the blinds thrown back. "Air, air," was all her panting lungs desired. The terrible guest had entered,--his stern, cold hand pressed her brow! The gold of Ophir cannot drive him from this gilded room. He waits for Louise! Mother's embraces, nurse's care, physician's drugs, cannot hold her a moment. "Perhaps an hour longer," whispered the doctor. I dropped at the side of the dying girl, and in a few broken supplications, commended this THE STREAM OF EMGRATION. 233 child to the mercy of a dying Saviour, an in- finity of love, whose height is from earth to heaven, whose breadth is from farthest east to farthest west, whose length is from everlasting to everlasting! As I rose, Louise grasped my hand. "Dare I trust that plank? May I venture into that ocean of redeeming love? "Deceive me not. A wretched sinner! Oh lead me to the Saviour." "Ten thousand sins may not keep you away, Lousie. Venture all, one name, alone is given by which you can be saved. Pu your feet on the Rock Christ." I will, said the dying girl. "Saviour of my perishing soul! In this hou of agony, I come to thee, to thee!" Silently we stood by the still, canopie, couch. Louise had fled to other worlds--an( nothing remained, amidst the gilded trappingl but the lifeless form! 20* page: 234-235[View Page 234-235] 234 THE RECORDED WILL. CONCLUSION. ENOCHS still walk with God-Daniels yet wear the insignia, "greatly beloved." There are men after "God's own heart," Annas and Simeons at the temple. Faith and love still throw their steady light upon the darkness of sin, and bands of brothers are yet united in the ascending- prayer! The world's redemp- tion hastens forward, amid all the confusion and apparent worldliness of the times. A few steps onward, lies another picture, yet unpencilled-the coffin-the shroud--the closing up of lifers great "dream." Above all, the great decision, whether the seed which you and I, dear reader, have sown, shall reap life everlasting. t
