by T. S. Arthur
“Thy will be done!” murmured the widow, lifting her eyes upward. “If these tender ones are to be taken from their mother’s fold, oh, do thou temper for them the piercing blast, and be their shelter amid the raging tempests.”
A tap at the door brought back the thoughts of Mrs. Mayberry. A brief struggle with her feelings, enabled her to overcome them in time to receive a visitor with composure. It was the merchant.
“Mr. Easy!” she said, in surprise.
“Mrs. Mayberry, how do you do?” There was some restraint and embarrassment in his manner. He was conscious of having neglected the widow of his friend, before he came. The humble condition in which he found her, quickened that consciousness into a sting.
“I am sorry, madam,” he said, after he had become seated, and made a few inquiries, “that I did not get the place for your son. In fact, I am to blame in the matter. But I have been thinking since, that he would suit me exactly, and if you have no objections, I will take him, and pay him a salary of two hundred dollars for the first year.”
Mrs. Mayberry tried to reply, but her feelings were too much excited by this sudden and unlooked-for proposal, to allow her to speak for some moments. Even then, her assent was made with tears glistening on her cheeks.
Arrangements were quickly made for the transfer of Hiram from the store where he had been engaged, to the counting-room of Mr. Easy. The salary he received was just enough to enable Mrs. Mayberry, with what she herself earned, to keep her little ones together, until Hiram, who proved a valuable assistant in Mr. Easy’s business, could command a larger salary, and render her more important aid.
HUMAN LIFE.
BY T. S. ARTHUR.
BENJAMIN PARKER was not as thrifty as some of his neighbors. He could not “get along in the world.”
“Few men are more industrious than I am,” he would sometimes say to his wife. “I am always attending to business, late and early, rain or shine. But it’s no use, I can’t get along, and am afraid I never shall. Nothing turns out well.”
Mrs. Parker was a meek, patient-minded woman; and she had married Benjamin because she loved him above all the young men who sought her hand, some of whom had fairer prospects in the world than he had; and she continued to love him and confided in him, notwithstanding many reverses and privations had attended their union.
“You do the best you can,” she would reply to her husband when he thus complained, “and that is as much as can be expected of any one. You can only plant and sow, the Lord must send the rain and the sunshine.”
The usually pensive face of Mrs. Parker would lighten up, as she spoke words of comfort and encouragement like these. But she never ventured upon any serious advice as to the management of her husband’s affairs, although there were times when she could not help thinking that if he would do a little differently it might be better. To his fortunes she had united her own, and she was ready to bear with him their lot in life. If he proposed any thing, she generally acquiesced in it, even if it cost her much self-sacrifice; and when, as it often happened, all did not turn out as well as had been expected, she never said—”I looked for this,” or “I never approved of it,” or, “If I had been allowed to advise you, it never would have been done.” No, nothing like this ever passed the lips of Mrs. Parker. But rather words of sympathy and encouragement, and a reference of all to the wise but inscrutable dispensations of Providence. It might have been better for them if Mrs. Parker had possessed a stronger will and had manifested more decided traits of character; or it might not. The pro or con of this we will not pretend to decide. As a general thing it is no doubt true that qualities of mind in married partners have a just relation the one to the other, and act and react in a manner best suited for the correction of the peculiar evils of each and the elevation of both into the highest moral state to which they can be raised. At first glance this may strike the mind as not true as a general rule. But a little reflection will cause it to appear more obvious. If an all-wise Providence governs in the affairs of men, it is but reasonable to suppose that, in the most important act of a man’s life, this Providence will be most conspicuous. Marriage is this most important act, and without doubt it is so arranged that those are brought together between whom action and reaction of intellectual and moral qualities will be just in the degree best calculated to secure their own and their children’s highest good.
We are not so sure, therefore, that it would have been any better for Mr. and Mrs. Parker had the latter been less passive, and less willing to believe that her husband was fully capable of deciding as to what was best to be done in all things relating to those pursuits in life by which this world’s goods are obtained. She was passive, and therefore we will believe that it was right for her to be so.
Mrs. Parker, though thus passive in all matters where she felt that her husband was capable of deciding and where he ought to decide, was not without activity and force of character. But all was directed by a gentle and loving spirit, and in subservience to a profound conviction that every occurrence in life was under the direction or permission of God. No matter what she was called upon to suffer, either of bodily or mental pain, she never murmured, but lifted her heart upward with pious submission and felt, if she did not speak the sentiment—”Thy will be done.”
Mrs. Parker was one of three sisters, between whom existed the tenderest affection. Their mother had died while they were young, and love for each other had been strengthened and purified in mutual love and care for their father. They had never been separated, from childhood. The very thought of separation was always attended with pain. If in the marriage of Rachel with Benjamin Parker any thing crossed the mind of the loving and happy girl to cast over it a shade, it was the thought of being separated from her sisters. Not a distant separation, for Benjamin was keeping a store in the village, and there was every prospect therefore of their remaining there, permanently, but a removal from the daily presence of and household intercourse with those, to love whom had been a part of her nature.
In the deeper, tenderer, more absorbing love with which Rachel loved her husband, she found a compensation for what she lost in being separated from her sisters and father. She was happy—but happy with a subdued and thankful spirit.
Not more than a year elapsed after their marriage before Parker began to complain of the badness of the times, and to sit thoughtful and sometimes gloomy during the evenings he spent at home. This grieved Rachel very much, and caused her to exercise the greatest possible prudence and economy in order that the household expenses might be as little burdensome as possible to her husband. But all would not do.
“I am afraid I shall never get ahead here in the world,” Parker at length said outright, thereby giving his wife the first suspicion of what was in his mind—a wish to try his fortune in some other place.
The truth was, Parker was making a living and a little over, but he was not satisfied with this, and had moreover a natural love of change. An acquaintance had talked to him a good deal about the success of a young friend who had commenced in a town some fifty miles away, a business precisely like the one in which he was engaged. According to the account given, on half the capital which Parker possessed, this person was selling double the quantity of goods and making better profits.
A long time did not pass before Parker, after a bitter complaint in regard to his business, said:
“I don’t know what is to be done unless we go to Fairview. We could do a great deal better there.”
“Do you think so?” asked Rachel, in a calm voice, although her heart sank within her at the thought of being separated from those she so tenderly loved.
“I know it,” was the answer. “Fairview is a thriving town, while this place is going behindhand as fast as possible. I shall never get along if I remain here, that is certain.”
Rachel made no reply, but the hand that held the needle with which she was sewing moved at a quicker rate.
“Are you willing to go there?” the husband asked, with some hesi
tation of manner.
“If you think it best to go I am willing, of course,” Rachel said, meekly.
Parker looked into the face of his wife, as it bent lower over the work she held in her hand, and tried to understand as well as read its expression. But he could not exactly make it out. Nor did the tone of voice in which she so promptly expressed her willingness to remove, if he thought it best, entirely satisfy his mind. Her assent, however, had been obtained, and this being the thing he most desired, he was not long in forgetting the manner in which that assent was given. Of the cloud that fell upon her heart—of the sadness that oppressed—of the foreshadowing loneliness of spirit that came over her, he knew nothing.
A removal once determined upon, it was soon made. A large portion of the goods in Mr. Parker’s store was sold at a rather heavy sacrifice and converted into cash. What remained of his stock was packed up and sent to Fairview, whither with his wife and child he quickly followed. While he looked hopefully ahead, the tearful eyes of Rachel were turned back upon the loved and loving friends that were left behind. But she did not murmur, or make any open manifestation of the grief she felt. She believed it to be her duty to go with her husband, and her duty, if she could not go cheerfully, at least to conceal from others the pain she suffered.
For a time, things looked very bright in Fairview to the eyes of Mr. Parker. He sold more goods and at better prices than at the old place; but he had to credit more. The result of his first year’s business was quite encouraging. There was, however, a slight drawback; very much more than his profits were outstanding. But he doubted not that all would come in.
As for Mrs. Parker the year had not gone by without leaving some marks of its passage upon her heart. Some are purified by much suffering who, to common observation, seem purer far than hundreds around them whose days glide pleasantly on and whose skies are rarely overcast, and then only by a swiftly-passing summer cloud. Rachel Parker was one of these. During the first year of her absence from those who were loved next to her husband and child, her father died. And what rendered the affliction doubly severe, was the fact, that it occurred while she herself was so ill that she could not be moved without endangering her life. He died and she could not be with him in the last sad hours of his earthly existence! He died and was buried, and she was not there to look for the last time upon his beloved face—to follow him to his quiet resting-place—to weep over his grave! She suffered—but to no mortal eye were apparent the adequate signs of that suffering. Even her husband was misled by the calm surface of her feelings into the belief that there was no wild turbulence beneath. He did not see the tears that wet the pillow upon which she slept. He did not know how many hours she lay sleepless in the silent midnight watches. Daily all her duties were performed with unvarying assiduity; and when he spoke to her she answered with her usual gentle smile. That it faded more quickly than was its wont, Benjamin Parker did not notice, nor did he remark upon the fact that she rarely introduced any subject of conversation. Indeed, so entirely was his mind engrossed by business, that it was impossible for him to have any realizing sense of the true state of his wife’s feelings.
Four years were past at Fairview, during which time Parker barely managed to get sufficient out of his store to live upon; the greater portion of his profits being represented by the figures on the debtor side of his ledger. Many of these accounts were good, though slow in being realized; but many more were hopelessly bad. He was very far from being satisfied with the result. He lived, it is true, and by carefully attending to his business could continue to live, and it might be lay up a little; but this did not satisfy Benjamin Parker. He wanted to be getting ahead in the world.
“Why don’t you go to the West?” said an acquaintance, to whom he was one day making complaint of his slow progress. “That is the country where enterprise meets a just reward. If I were as young a man as you are, you wouldn’t catch me long in these parts. I would sell out and buy five or six hundred acres of government land and settle down as a farmer. In a few years you’d see me with property on my hands worth looking at.”
This set Parker to thinking and inquiring about the West. The idea of becoming a substantial farmer, with broad acres covered with grain and fields alive with stock, soon became predominant in his mind, and he talked of little else at home or abroad. His wife said nothing, but she thought almost as much on the subject as did her husband. At length Benjamin Parker determined that he would remove to Northern Indiana, more than a thousand miles away, upon a farm of five hundred acres, that was offered to him at two dollars and a half an acre. It was government land that had been taken up a year or two before, and slightly improved by the erection of a log hut and the clearing of a few acres, and now sold at one hundred per cent. advance. Instead of first visiting the West and seeing the location of the land that was offered to him, Parker was willing to believe all that was said of its excellence and admirable location, and weak enough to invest in it more than half of all he was worth.
The store at Fairview was sold out, and Mrs. Parker permitted to spend a week with her sisters before parting with them, perhaps, forever. When the final moment of separation came it seemed to her like a death-parting. The eyes of Rachel lingered upon each loved countenance, as if for the last time, and when these passed from before her bodily visions, love kept them as distinct as ever, but distinct in their tearful sadness.
If the wishes and feelings of Rachel Parker had been consulted—if she had been at all considered and her true feelings and character justly appreciated—a removal to the West would never have been determined upon. But her husband’s mind was all absorbed in ideas of worldly things. Not possessing the habits and qualities of mind that ensure success in any calling, he was always oppressed with the consciousness that he was either standing still, or going behindhand. Instead of seeking to better his condition by greater activity, energy, and concentration of thought upon his business, he was ever looking to something beyond it, and to change of place and pursuit as the means of improving his fortunes. This at last, as has been seen, led him off to the West in the ardent hope of becoming in time a wealthy farmer. In an inverse ratio to the hopeful elevation of spirits with which Parker set out upon his journey was the sorrowful depression experienced by his wife. But Rachel kept meekly and patiently her feelings to herself. It was her duty, she felt, to go with her husband. She had united her fortunes with his, and without murmuring or complaining, she was ready to go with him through the world and to stand bravely up by his side in any and all circumstances.
After a journey of five weeks, Benjamin Parker and his wife, with their family of three children, arrived at their new home in the West. It was early in the spring. The main body of the farm, which was densely wooded, lay upon the eastern bank of a small, sluggish river, with broad, marshy bottom-lands. The cabin, which had been put up the year before on a small clearing, stood on an eminence just above this river, and was five miles away from any other human habitation. It consisted of two rooms and a small loft above. One of these rooms had only a ground floor. The windows were not glazed. The last thirty miles of the journey to this wild region had been performed in a wagon, which contained their furniture and a small supply of provisions.
The first night spent in this lonely, cheerless place was one that brought no very pleasant reflections to either Parker or his wife. He was disappointed in his expectations, and she felt as if a heavy hand were pressing upon her bosom.
But there they were, and the only thing for them to do was to make the best of what was in their hands. Parker obtained an assistant and went to work to prepare the cleared ground for spring crops, and his wife, with a babe at her breast and no help, assumed all the duties pertaining to her family. In cooking, washing, milking, sewing, etc., she found enough to occupy all her time late and early. It was a rare thing for her to lay her head upon her pillow without extreme weariness and even exhaustion.
Time went on, and they began to reap the first fruits of their
industry. The wilderness and solitary place blossomed. The little clearing widened gradually its circle, and many little comforts, at first wanting, were obtained. Still they suffered many privations and Mrs. Parker far more than her husband imagined.
The first summer, hot and sultry, drew near to its close. Thus far they had been blessed with health. But now slight headache, nausea, and a general feeling of debility were experienced by all. The first to show symptoms of serious illness was the oldest child. She was nearly five years of age, her name was Rachel, and she was aptly named, for she was the image of her mother. The bright eyes, sweet, loving face, and happy voice of little Rachel, that was heard all day long, lightened the mother’s toil, refreshed her spirits, and often made her forget the loneliness and seclusion in which they lived. She was like a cool spring in the desert, a bright flower in a barren waste, a ray of sunshine from a wintry sky.
Little Rachel was the first to droop. Saturday was always the busiest day of the week; it was the day of preparation for the Sabbath; for even separate and lonely as they were, this family sacredly regarded the Sabbath as a day of rest from worldly care and labor. It was Saturday, and Mrs. Parker, in the more earnest attention which she gave to her household duties, did not notice that the child was more quiet than usual; nor did the fact of finding her fast asleep on the floor when dinner was ready, cause any thing further than a thought that she had tired herself out with play. At night she refused her supper, and then it was observed for the first time that her eyes were heavy, her hands hot, and that she was affected with a general languor. Her mother undressed her and put her to bed, and the child sank off immediately into a heavy sleep. For some time Mrs. Parker stood bending over her with a feeling of unusual tenderness for the child. She also felt concern, but not arising from any definite cause. The fear of extreme sickness and impending death she had not yet known. That was one of the lessons she had still to learn.
