So serenely and lovingly flowed their life in its interior light and beauty, that cares and anxieties seemed scarce to touch their states. True, these came to them in the guise of those calamities and disappointments, that so often sweep as the destructive tornado over the lower lives of the earth-loving children of men. But as their affections were spiritual, they were not wounded by the earth-sorrows. Their treasures were laid up _above_, where "moth and rust doth not corrupt." Paul realized this when he saw Rosa hold her dead baby in her arms and smile through her tears. And yet this was her "little Paul" that she loved with such an intense delight and devotion; because in him, all the day long, she saw that wonderful life of G.o.d manifested in such a heavenly innocence and purity, as in a tiny image of her own Paul. Yet, when the spirit of the child was gone, she adorned the clay form in which it had dwelt, with such loving care, and laid it in its little coffin, that her hand might serve it to the very last, and then turned and rested her head in the bosom of her husband as a wounded bird in its downy nest.

Paul's love seemed to lift her to the Heaven to which her baby had gone; and when, after a few days, she urged him to leave her and go to his office where his duties called him, Paul feared that she would feel lonely, and would fain have stayed beside her. But she said--

"No, dear Paul; I shall never be alone again; the spirit of the child will be with me: it is so beautiful to have loved him on earth, for now I can love him in Heaven." And so Paul left her, not as one in a dark land of sorrow, but floating in a world of light and love. And how eagerly he hastened back to his gentle, stricken dove, and folded her to his heart, as though he would shield her from all sorrow! But he scarce found a sorrow; she was all light and joy, and said--

"Oh, Paul, I am so happy, for I have been thinking all day how happy the angels must be to have my little Paul with them! It seemed to me that I could see them adorning him with heavenly garments, and I could see his happy smile; and I was glad that he was no longer oppressed by his weak, earthly body. Yes, he is now a blessed angel in Heaven, and is it not beautiful, dear Paul, that we have given an angel to Heaven?"

Thus was the earth-sorrow turned to a heavenly joy. And though other children were born to Paul and Rosa, yet their chief delight in them was, that they were to be angels in Heaven. How often Rosa said, "Paul, they are the children of the Lord--not ours; only we have the loving work to teach them for Heaven."

Through Rosa, Paul realized this beautiful truth, and earnestly strove to impart truth to the tender and impressible minds of his children; he presented it to them in the most beautiful and attractive forms. But it was Rosa that made them love it and live in it; it was the teachings of the father that fell like "golden grains" in the earth of their minds; but it was the gentle, never-ceasing culture of the mother, that caused it to spring up into the sunshine of Heaven, and bear the fruit of kind and loving actions. When Paul saw this, he felt himself a man in the true sense of the word; one, who could perform the highest uses in life, without being clogged and thwarted by the want of concert in action by his partner in life. Thus it is that a harmony of thought and feeling produces a harmony in action.

And how elevated and n.o.ble became all the ends of Paul's life! It was Rosa that elevated and refined them, and directed them Heavenward. It was beautiful to see how she could draw down the light of Heaven into all the outer life. Everything on earth seemed to her but the symbol of something in Heaven. And when Paul once gave her money, she thanked him with such a grateful warmth of affection, that he laughingly asked her, if she loved money, that she was so grateful for it. She answered, "Yes, Paul; I love your money, because you have worked for it; and when you give it to me, it seems to our outer life what truth is to our inner life. If you gave me no truth, I could not adorn your inner life with love; and if you gave me no money, I could not adorn your outer life with good. I could not alone attain either money or truth. I should be very poor, dear Paul, both spiritually and naturally, without you.

But you, as a husband, bring me truth and money. With the first I call the angels around you; with the second I call earthly friends around you; and thus, both your inner and outer life are made glad and warm and genial."

And Paul knew this; for his home was beautiful,--a feminine taste and tact reigned through it, and Rosa's diffusive charity made him the centre of a circle to whom he dispensed not only earthly goods, but the n.o.ble thoughts of his large understanding. And Paul realized that while he guided all things by his wisdom, given to him of G.o.d, Rosa was as the motive power to his existence. Her influence pervaded his every thought and feeling, and while it made his life upon earth so full and perfect, it allied him to Heaven; and thus he held her in his house and heart as the Holy of holies.

Happy is the earth if it have one pair of such married ones, for through such, the Spirit and life of G.o.d descend upon the earth, and bind it to Heaven. But blessed, yea most blessed will be the earth when it has many such, for then the heavenly sunshine will flood the whole earth with its light and glory, and the Lord, who is the centre and source of this glorious Sun, will see His image reflected, in its mercy and tender beauty, in the lives of the dwellers upon earth, even as it now is seen by Him in those of the dwellers in Heaven, and thus will the "kingdom of G.o.d" come upon earth "as it is in Heaven."

MARRIAGE.

IN the truest sense of the word, woman was created to be man's comforter, a joyous helpmate in hours of sunshine, a soother, when the clouds darken and the tempests howl around his head; then, indeed, we perceive the divinely beautiful arrangement which marriage enforces. Man in his wisdom, his rare mental endowments, is little fitted to bear adversity. He bows before the blast, like the st.u.r.dy pine which the wintry storm, sweeping past, cracks to its very centre; while woman, as the frail reed, sways to and fro with the fierce gust, then rises again triumphant towards the blackening sky. Her affection, pure and steadfast, her unswerving faith and devotion, sustain man in the hour of darkness, even as the trailing weed supports and binds together the mighty walls of some mouldering ruin.

Would you know why so many unhappy marriages seem to falsify the truth that they are made in Heaven? Why we see daily diversity of interests, and terrible contentions, eating the very life away, like the ghoul in the Arabian tales, that prayed on human flesh? It is that women are wrongly educated. Instructed, trained, to consider matrimony the sole aim, the end of their existence, it matters not to whom the Gordian knot is tied, so that the trousseau, wedding, and eclat of bridehood follow. Soon the brightness of this false aurora borealis fades from the conjugal horizon; and the truths of life, divested of all romance, in bitterness and pain rise before them. Unfitted for duties which must be fulfilled, physically incapacitated for the responsibilities of life--mere school-girls in many instances--the chains they have a.s.sumed become cables of iron, whose heavy weight crushes into the heart, erasing for ever the footprints of affection, and leaving instead the black marks of deadly hate. Then comes the struggle for supremacy. Man in his might and power a.s.serts his will, while woman, unknowing her sin, unguided by the divine light of love, neglects, abandons her home; then come ruin, despair, and death. G.o.d help those mistaken ones, who have thus hurried into union, ignorant of each other's prejudices, opinions, and dispositions, when too late they discover there is not, nor ever can be, affinity between souls wide as the poles asunder.

Notwithstanding these miserable unions, we must consider marriage divine in its origin, and alone calculated to make life blessed. Who can imagine a more blissful state of existence than two united by the law of G.o.d and love, mutually sustaining each other in the jostlings of life; together weathering its storms, or basking beneath its clear skies; hand in hand, lovingly, truthfully, they pa.s.s onward. This is marriage as G.o.d inst.i.tuted it, as it ever should be, as Moore beautifully says--

"There's a bliss beyond all that the minstrel has told, When two that are linked in one heavenly tie, With heart never changing and brow never cold, Love on through all ills, and love on till they die!"

To attain this bliss, this union of the soul, as well as of hands, it is necessary that much should be changed. Girls must not think, as soon as emanc.i.p.ated from nursery control, that they are qualified to become wives and mothers. If woman would become the true companion of man, she must not only cultivate her intellect, but strive to control her impulses and subdue her temper, so that while yielding gently, gracefully, to what appears, at the time, perhaps, a harsh requirement, she may feel within the "calm which pa.s.seth all understanding." There must be a mutual forbearance, no fierce wrestling to rule. If there is to be submission, let the wife show how meekly Omnipotent love suffereth all things. Purity, innocence, and holy beauty invest such a love with a halo of glory.

Man, mistake not then thy mate, and hereafter, bitterly repenting, exclaim at the curse of marriage. No, no, with prudent foresight, avoid the ball-room belle--seek thy twin soul among the pure-hearted, the meek, the true. Like must mate with like; the kingly eagle pairs not with the owl, nor the lion with the jackal.

Neither must woman rush blindly, heedlessly, into the noose, fancying the sunny hues, the lightning glances of her first admirer, true prismatic colours. She must first chemically a.n.a.lyze them to be sure they are not reflected light alone, from her own imagination.

That frightsome word to many, "old maid," ought not to exercise any influence over her firmly balanced mind; better far, however, lead a single life, than form a sinful alliance, that can only result in misery and wretchedness. Some of the purest and best women that ever lived, have belonged to that much decried, contemned sisterhood.

Wed not, merely to fly from an opprobrious epithet; a.s.sume not the holy name of wife, to one who brings trueness of heart, wealth of affection, whilst you have nought to offer in return but cold respect. Your first love already lavished on another: believe me, respect, esteem, are but poor, weak talismans to ward off life's trials. Rise superior to all puerile fancies; bear n.o.bly the odium of old maidism, if such be thy fate, and if, like Sir Walter Scott's lovely creation, Rebecca, you are separated by an impa.s.sable gulf from your heart's chosen, or have met and suffered by the false and treacherous, take not any chance Waverley who may cross your path.

Like the high-souled Jewess, resolve to live on singly, and strive with the means G.o.d has given you, to benefit, to comfort your suffering sisters.

Would man and woman give to this all-important subject, so vital to their life-long happiness, the consideration it requires, we should not so often meet with men broken in spirit--_memento mori_ legibly written on their countenances; with women prematurely old--unloving wives, careless husbands. Meditate long before you a.s.sume ties to endure to your life's end, mayhaps to eternity. Pause even on the altar-stone, if only there thou seest thy error; for a union of hands, without hearts, is a sin against high heaven. Remember,

"There are two angels that attend, unseen; Each one of us; and in great books record Our good and evil deeds. He who writes down The good ones, after every action, closes His volume; and ascends with it to G.o.d; _The other keeps his dreadful day-book open_ _Till sunset, that we may repent; which doing,_ _The record of the action fades away,_ _And leaves a line of white across the page."_

THE BRIDE'S SISTER.

OH, sister, darling, though I smile, the tears are in my heart, And I will strive to keep them there, or hide them if they start; I know you've seen our mother's glance ofttimes so full of woe, The grief-sob rises to the lips that bid her first-born go.

It is not that she doubts his love to whom thou'st given thine,-- The fear that he may coldly look upon his clasping vine; But, oh, she feels however loved and cherished as his wife, Though calm her lily may float down upon the stream of life;

Yet, by her own glad married years, she knows that clouds will stray, And tears will sometimes fill thy cup, though kissed by love away; And she will not be near her flower to lay it on her breast-- 'Tis thus--'tis thus the young birds fly, and leave the lonely nest!

Oh, sister, darling, I shall miss thy footfall on the stair, Beside my own, when good-words have followed good-night prayer; And miss thee from our pleasant room, and miss thee when I sleep, And feel no more thy twining arms and soft breath on my cheek.

And I shall gaze with tearful eyes upon thy vacant chair-- Sweet sister, wherefore, wherefore go, 'tis more than I can bear!

Forgive me, Lizzie, do not weep--I'm strong again, and calm, "Our Father" for my aching heart will send a spirit-balm.

Now let me bind this snowy veil amid thy silken hair, The white moss-rose and orange buds upon thy bosom fair; How beautiful you are to-night! Does love such charms impart?

An angel's wing methinks has stirred the waters of your heart;

So holy seem its outlets blue where sparkle yet the tears, Like stars that tremble in the sky when not a cloud appears.

Art ready now? The evening wanes; the guests will soon be here, And the glad bridegroom waits his own. G.o.d bless thee, sister dear!

LOVE vs. HEALTH.

ABOUT a mile from one of the Berkshire villages, and separated from it by the Housatonic, is one of the loveliest sites in all our old county. It is on an exhausted farm of rocky, irregular, grazing ground, with a meadow of rich alluvial soil. The river, which so nearly surrounds it as to make it a peninsula "in little," doubles around a narrow tongue of land, called the "ox-bow"--a bit of the meadow so smooth, so fantastic in its shape, so secluded, so adorned by its fringe of willows, clematises, grape-vines, and all our water-loving shrubs, that it suggests to every one, who ever read a fairy tale, a scene for the revels of elves and fairies. Yet no Oberon--no t.i.tania dwelt there; but long ago, where there are now some ruinous remains of old houses, and an uncouth new one, stood the first frame house of the lower valley of the Housatonic. It was inhabited by the last Indian who maintained the dignity of a Chief, and from him pa.s.sed to the first missionary to the tribe. There Kirkland, the late honoured President of Harvard College, was born, and there his genial and generous nature received its first and ineffaceable impressions. Tenants, unknown to fame, succeeded the missionary.

The Indian dwelling fell to decay; and the property has now pa.s.sed into the bands of a poet, who, rumour says, purposes transforming it to a villa, and whose occupancy will give to it a new consecration.

Just before its final high destiny was revealed, there dwelt there a rustic pair, who found out, rather late in life, that Heaven had decreed they should wear together the conjugal yoke. That Heaven had decreed it no one could doubt who saw how well it fitted, and how well they drew together.

They had one child--a late blossom, and cherished as such. Little Mary Marvel would have been spoiled, but there was nothing to spoil her. Love is the element of life, and in an atmosphere of love she lived. Her parents were people of good sense--upright and simple in their habits, with no theories, nor prejudices, ambitions, or corruptions, to turn the child from the inspirations of Heaven, with which she began her innocent life.

When little Mary Marvel came to be seven years old, it was a matter of serious consideration how she was to be got to the district school on "the plain" (the common designation of the broad village street), full a mile from the Marvels secluded residence. Mrs.

Marvel was far better qualified than the teachers of the said school, to direct the literary training of her child. She was a strong-minded woman, and a reader of all the books she could compa.s.s. But she had the in-door farm-work to do--cheese to make, b.u.t.ter to churn, &c. and after little Mary had learned to read and spell, she must be sent to school for the more elaborate processes of learning--arithmetic, geography, &c.

"Now, Julius Hasen," said Marvel to his only neighbour's son, "don't you want to call, as you go by, days, with your little sister, and take our Mary to school? I guess she won't be a trouble. She could go alone; but, somehow, mother and I shall feel easier--as the river is to pa.s.s, &c.--if you are willing."

A kind boy was Julius; and, without hesitation, he promised to take Marvel's treasure under his convoy. And, for the two years following, whenever the district school was in operation, Julius might be seen conducting the two little girls down the hill that leads to the bridge. At the bridge they loitered. Its charm was felt, but indefinable. It was a spell upon their senses; they would look up and down the sparkling stream till it winded far away from sight, and at their own pretty faces, that smiled again to them, and at Julius skittering the stones along the water, (a magical rustic art!) That old bridge was a point of sight for pictures, lovelier than Claude painted. For many a year, the old lingered there, to recall the poetry of their earlier days; lovers, to watch the rising and setting of many a star, and children to play out their "noon-times" and twilights. Heaven forgive those who replaced it with a dark, dirty, covered, barn-like thing of bad odour in every sense! The worst kind of barbarians, those, who make war--not upon life, but upon the life of life--its innocent pleasures!

But, we loiter with the children, when we should go on with them through the narrow lane intersecting broad, rich meadows, and shaded by pollard willows, which form living and growing posts for the prettiest of our northern fences, and round the turn by the old Indian burying-ground. Now, having come to "_the plain_," they pa.s.s the solemn precincts of the village Church, and that burying-ground where, since the Indian left his dead with us, generations of their successors are already lain. And now they enter the wide village street, wide as it is, shaded and embowered by dense maples and wide-stretching elms; and enlivened with neatly-trimmed court-yards and flower-gardens, It was a pleasant walk, and its sweet influences bound these young people's hearts together. We are not telling a love-story, and do not mean to intimate that this was the beginning of one--though we have heard of the seeds nature implants germinating at as early a period as this, and we remember a boy of six years old who, on being reproved by his mother for having kept his book open at one place, and his eye fixed on it for half an hour, replied, with touching frankness--

"Mother, I can see nothing there but Caroline Mitch.e.l.l! Caroline Mitch.e.l.l!"

Little Mary Marvel had no other sentiment for Julius than his sister had. She thought him the kindest and the best; and much as she reverenced the village pedagogues, she thought Julius's learning profounder than theirs, for he told them stories from the Arabian Nights--taught them the traditions of Monument Mountain--made them learn by heart the poetry that has immortalized them, and performed other miracles of learning and teaching, to which the schoolmaster didn't approach!

Children's judgments are formed on singular premises, but they are usually just conclusions. Julius was an extraordinary boy, and, fortunately, he was selected on that account, and not because he was sickly and could do nothing else (not uncommon grounds for this election), for a liberal education. Strong of heart and strong in body, he succeeded in everything, and without being a charge to his father. He went through college--was graduated with honour--studied law--and, when Mary Marvel was about nineteen, he came home from his residence in one of our thriving Western cities, for a vacation in his full legal business.

His first visit was to the Marvels, where he was received with as much warmth as in his father's home. As he left the house, he said to his sister Anne, who was with him--