[Footnote 20: From "Bound Together," by Donald G. Mitch.e.l.l, published by Charles Scribner's Sons.]

A THANKSGIVING[21]

Lord, thou hast given me a cell Wherein to dwell-- A little house, whose humble roof Is weatherproof-- Under the spans of which I lie Both soft and dry, Where thou, my chamber for to ward, Hast set a guard Of harmless thoughts, to watch and keep Me while I sleep.

Low is my porch as is my fate-- Both void of state-- And yet the threshold of my door Is worn by the poor Who hither come, and freely get Good words or meat.

Like as my parlor, so my hall And kitchen's small.

A little b.u.t.tery, and therein A little bin.

Which keeps my little loaf of bread Unchipt, unfled.

Some brittle sticks of thorn or brier Make me a fire Close by whose living coal I sit, And glow like it.

Lord, I confess too, when I dine, The pulse is thine, And all those other bits that be There placed by thee.

'Tis thou that crown'st my glittering hearth With guiltless mirth, And giv'st me wa.s.sail bowls to drink, Spiced to the brink.

Lord, 'tis thy plenty-dropping hand That soils my land, And giv'st me for my bushel sown Twice ten for one.

All these and better thou dost send Me to this end,-- That I should render for my part, A thankful heart; Which, fired with incense, I resign As wholly thine-- But the acceptance, that must be, My G.o.d, by thee.

FOOTNOTE:

[Footnote 21: By Robert Herrick, an English poet (1591-1674).]

FIRST DAYS AT WAKEFIELD[22]

_A proof that even the humblest fortune may grant happiness, which depends not on circ.u.mstances but const.i.tution._

The place of our retreat was in a little neighborhood consisting of farmers, who tilled their own grounds, and were equal strangers to opulence and poverty. As they had almost all the conveniences of life within themselves, they seldom visited towns or cities in search of superfluity. Remote from the polite, they still retained the primeval simplicity of manners; and frugal by habit, they scarcely knew that temperance was a virtue.

They wrought with cheerfulness on days of labor; but observed festivals as intervals of idleness and pleasure. They kept up the Christmas carol, sent true love knots on Valentine morning, ate pancakes on Shrovetide, showed their wit on the first of April, and religiously cracked nuts on Michaelmas Eve.

Being apprised of our approach, the whole neighborhood came out to meet their minister, dressed in their finest clothes, and preceded by a pipe and tabor. A feast also was provided for our reception, at which we sat cheerfully down; and what the conversation wanted in wit was made up in laughter.

Our little habitation was situated at the foot of a slopping bill, sheltered with a beautiful underwood behind, and a prattling river before; on one side a meadow, on the other a green. My farm consisted of about twenty acres of excellent land, having given a hundred pounds for my predecessor's goodwill. Nothing could exceed the neatness of my little inclosures, the elms and hedgerows appearing with inexpressible beauty.

My house consisted of but one story, and was covered with thatch, which gave it an air of great snugness; the walls on the inside were nicely whitewashed, and my daughters undertook to adorn them with pictures of their own designing. Though the same room served us for parlor and kitchen, that only made it the warmer. Besides, as it was kept with the utmost neatness, the dishes, plates, and coppers being well scoured, and all disposed in bright rows on the shelves, the eye was agreeably relieved, and did not want richer furniture. There were three other apartments,--one for my wife and me, another for our two daughters, and the third, with two beds, for the rest of the children.

The little republic to which I gave laws was regulated in the following manner: by sunrise we all a.s.sembled in our common apartment, the fire being previously kindled by the servant. After we had saluted each other with proper ceremony--for I always thought fit to keep up some mechanical forms of good breeding, without which freedom ever destroys friendship--we all bent in grat.i.tude to that Being who gave us another day.

This duty being performed, my son and I went to pursue our usual industry abroad, while my wife and daughters employed themselves in providing breakfast, which was always ready at a certain time. I allowed half an hour for this meal and an hour for dinner, which time was taken up in innocent mirth between my wife and daughters, and in philosophical arguments between my son and me.

As we rose with the sun, so we never pursued our labors after it was gone down, but returned home to the expecting family, where smiling looks, a neat hearth, and pleasant fire were prepared for our reception.

Nor were we without guests: sometimes Farmer Flamborough, our talkative neighbor, and often the blind piper would pay us a visit, and taste our gooseberry wine, for the making of which we had lost neither the receipt nor the reputation.

The night was concluded in the manner we began the morning, my youngest boys being appointed to read the lessons of the day, and he that read loudest, distinctest and best was to have a halfpenny on Sunday to put in the poor's box.

When Sunday came it was indeed a day of finery, which all my sumptuary edicts could not restrain. How well soever I fancied my lectures against pride had conquered the vanity of my daughters, yet I still found them secretly attached to all their former finery; they still loved laces, ribbons, bugles, and catgut; my wife herself retained a pa.s.sion for her crimson paduasoy, because I formerly happened to say it became her.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The First Sunday at Wakefield.]

The first Sunday in particular their behavior served to mortify me; I had desired my girls the preceding night to be dressed early the next day; for I always loved to be at church a good while before the rest of the congregation. They punctually obeyed my directions; but when we were to a.s.semble in the morning at breakfast, down came my wife and daughters dressed out all in their former splendor; their hair plastered up with pomatum, their faces patched to taste, their trains bundled up in a heap behind, and rustling at every motion.

I could not help smiling at their vanity, particularly that of my wife, from whom I expected more discretion. In this exigence, therefore, my only resource was to order my son, with an important air, to call our coach. The girls were amazed at the command; but I repeated it with more solemnity than before.

"Surely, my dear, you jest," cried my wife; "we can walk it perfectly well; we want no coach to carry us now."

"You mistake, child," returned I, "we do want a coach; for if we walk to church in this trim, the very children in the parish will hoot after us."

"Indeed," replied my wife, "I always imagined that my Charles was fond of seeing his children neat and handsome about him."

"You may be as neat as you please," interrupted I, "and I shall love you the better for it; but all this is not neatness, but frippery. These rufflings and pinkings and patchings will only make us hated by all the wives of all our neighbors. No, my children," continued I, more gravely, "those gowns may be altered into something of a plainer cut; for finery is very unbecoming in us, who want the means of decency. I do not know whether such flouncing and shredding is becoming even in the rich, if we consider, upon a moderate calculation, that the nakedness of the indigent world may be clothed from the tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs of the vain."

This remonstrance had the proper effect; they went with great composure, that very instant, to change their dress; and the next day I had the satisfaction of finding my daughters, at their own request, employed in cutting up their trains into Sunday waistcoats for d.i.c.k and Bill, the two little ones; and what was still more satisfactory, the gowns seemed improved by this curtailing.

FOOTNOTE:

[Footnote 22: From "The Vicar of Wakefield," by Oliver Goldsmith, a celebrated English author (1728-1774).]

EXPRESSION: In this selection and the two which follow we have three other specimens of English prose fiction. You will observe that they are very different in style, as well as in subject, from the three specimens at the beginning of this book. Compare them with one another. Reread the selections from d.i.c.kens, Thackeray, and George Eliot, and compare them with these. Which do you like best? Why?

DOUBTING CASTLE[23]

I. THE PILGRIMS LOSE THEIR WAY

Now I beheld in my dream that Christian and Hopeful had not journeyed far until they came where the river and the way parted, at which they were not a little sorry; yet they durst not go out of the way. Now the way from the river was rough, and their feet tender by reason of their travel; so the souls of the pilgrims were much discouraged because of the way. Wherefore, still as they went on, they wished for a better way.

Now, a little before them, there was in the left hand of the road a meadow, and a stile to go over into it; and that meadow is called By-path Meadow. Then said Christian to his fellow, "If this meadow lieth along by our wayside, let us go over into it." Then he went to the stile to see, and behold a path lay along by the way on the other side of the fence.

"'Tis according to my wish," said Christian; "here is the easiest going; come, good Hopeful, and let us go over."

"But how if this path should lead us out of the way?"

"_That_ is not likely," said the other. "Look, doth it not go along by the wayside?"

So Hopeful, being persuaded by his fellow, went after him over the stile. When they were gone over, and were got into the path, they found it very easy for their feet; and withal they, looking before them, espied a man walking as they did, and his name was Vain-Confidence: so they called after him, and asked him whither that way led.