Kitabı oku: «Graham's Magazine, Vol XXXIII, No. 6, December 1848», sayfa 6
ANGELS ON EARTH
BY BLANCHE BENAIRDE
It sometimes chances, in this world of wo,
That lovely flowers in gloomy forests grow,
Which freely lend their sweetness to impart
A sense of pleasure to the stranger's heart.
They come to cheer and bless, like showers of rain
That fall in mercy on the parched plain,
And bloom in beauty, fair as though the light
That shines from heaven had never been from sight.
These flowers are emblems of the angels fair
That oft appear, man's lot to bless and share.
He dwells within a dreary forest wild,
No cheering sun has ever on him smiled,
His way is hedged with thorns, his soul is sad —
He spies an angel in love's vestment clad;
Kind words are spoken, and his grief has flown,
His heart is cheered – for he is not alone;
An angel ministers to him and points above,
Bidding him cast his care on endless love.
He lifts his eyes to heaven, and there behold,
The azure sky, touched with a tinge of gold,
Giving him promise of a brighter day,
A life more calm, more clear his onward way.
And angels, too, appear when Death comes nigh,
To wipe the bitter tear from Sorrow's eye —
They whisper of that bright and blessed shore
Where pain and suffering will be no more.
Oh, there are angels near us all the while,
That guard our homes and sweetly on us smile!
They minister to all– sometimes unseen —
And change life's desert to a living green.
MRS. TIPTOP
OR THE NEW MINISTER
BY MRS. E. C. KINNEY
The tongue can no man tame; it is an unruly evil, full of deadly poison. James iii. 8
Few villages in the Union could exceed Green Valley in local beauty and advantages; embosomed in hills, embellished with trees, and watered by a willow-shaded stream that meandered through its centre. Situated, too, within twenty miles of the great emporium, and skirted by a railway leading to it, the cultivators of a soil, that ever fulfilled more abundantly the hopes of the husbandman, could ask nothing more favorable to the ready disposal of their crops. The inhabitants of Green Valley were mostly farmers, who, besides "owing no man any thing," had each a comfortable dwelling and ample outhouses of his own, nothing better than his neighbors, but equaling theirs in the well-to-do look of the fences, the garden and door-yard. That the village was originally settled by Quakers, and half peopled by this drab-coated sect at the date of our story, no stranger needed to inquire, after passing through its straight-cut roads, or breathing its air of purity and quietude. Long had its simple-minded, true-hearted people lived in the daily enjoyment of mutual kindness and love; till contentment seemed written not only on the broad brims of the farmers, but on the bridles of their docile beasts, and on their very implements of husbandry. In the course of time, other religious denominations were established in Green Valley; but as the descendants of Penn continued to "work in quietness and eat their own bread," strangers intermeddled not with them; while the savor of their peaceful spirits seemed so diffused among other sects, that all "agreed to disagree" with one another, and for years unbroken harmony was the result. But we have only to do with the Congregational church of Green Valley, and will forthwith introduce the reader to the shepherd of this little flock. Mr. Worthiman was a plain man of God – middle-aged, of respectable scholastic attainments, and one who, for his sound judgment and exemplary "walk and conversation," had ever a "good report of them that were without." The law of kindness dwelt in his heart and on his lips, and in all the offices of exemplar, teacher and comforter of his charge none was more worthy than he. The church at its earliest organization, without a dissenting voice, invited Mr. Worthiman to become its pastor – his prayer dedicated the house of worship, and each succeeding Sabbath for a series of years found him at his post, breaking the Bread of Life to a grateful, confiding people. Nor were his pastoral duties less regularly fulfilled: One afternoon of every week was devoted by himself and his wife (whose living example was "such as becometh woman possessing godliness,") to visiting in rotation the families of his congregation; and so well timed was this custom, that the farmers' wives could calculate each her honored turn to a day; so that the substantial hospitalities of a generous board were added to the warm welcomes of heart and hand.
Besides the neat parsonage reared for the minister and his increasing family, he was, through the generosity of his parishioners, the owner of an old-fashioned chaise, and a horse gentle and well-ordered as his master. These were always in requisition on visiting afternoons; and a right comfortable sight it was to see the minister and his wife jogging along over the smooth roads, blessing all they passed with the smile of true benignity, and receiving the heart's blessing of all in return; while the good dame to whose dwelling their course was directed, having all things in readiness for the pastoral visitation, stationed one of her cleanly-attired children at the window, to watch for the first appearance of the reverend chaise wending up the lane to the farm-house, at which signal, with beaming eyes, the child hastened to open the gate, dreaming in the simplicity of her rosyhood, of no greater honor than to usher in the respected pair. On these occasions the farmer usually left the field, and donned his Sunday suit, the good wife appeared in her best cap and snowy kerchief, and the maid came from the dairy, with tidy apron, to claim her seat in the snug parlor, that alike they might sit under the lips that dropped wisdom for all. Then, when they gathered around the lengthened table, the pastor's blessing was music in their ears, and supper being over, his elongated prayer, comprehending the wants of each, and all, closed the privileges of the pastor's visit. Mr. Worthiman was equally satisfactory in his visits at the bedside of the sick – in his consolations to the dying, and his sympathy in the house of mourning. The aged leaned on him for support – the middle-aged walked hand in hand with his counsels, and the young looked up to him for guidance; while no austerity on his part forbade the merriment of their sports: so far from this, it was his custom at weddings, after a salutation to the bride, and a commendation of the bride's loaf, to take early leave, lest his presence should restrain the music and dancing that usually sum up a country bridal entertainment.
Such was the pastoral position of Mr. Worthiman, and such the unmolested happiness of Green Valley! But, alas! the serpent that looked with envious eyes on the paradise of our first parents, was about to creep stealthily among the vine-clad cottages of the peaceful villagers. And as in Eden his poison first insinuated itself through the mind of woman, so from woman was it to be communicated to these homes of contentment and love.
Among the few merchants of all-wares that had come in to supply the growing population of Green Valley, was a young man of more amiability than vigor of mind, who, having lived a single but quiet and peaceable life some years in the village, brought unexpectedly, from a town near-by, a wife to divide or double his blessedness. Kate Tiptop was cousin to the young man, and did not change her name in marrying him. She was the only daughter of parents who lived just long enough to spoil by indulgence a child whose native faculties of mind were more than ordinarily vigorous and acute; such as, under a disciplinary course of education, united with healthful moral training, would have ripened her into the noblest development of woman; but her first idea took the form of self, instead of truth, and growing perception brought only increasing self-consciousness. In short, she had early imbibed the belief that the world in which she moved was made for her accommodation; and her inherent passion – love of power – became more and more apparent as she increased in years. Had she been beautiful in person, this might have shown itself in more vain, but less injurious forms; as it was, she desired to sway hearts, not to receive their flattering unction in return, but to strengthen and confirm her own sense of ability to do it. Love of action alone induced her to engage in the practical duties of domestic life, and she married more for the sake of being the head of a family, than from any motives of affection. To accomplish this desire, she well knew that her husband must be her inferior in mental strength; while the additional inducement that fixed her choice on her cousin was, that in uniting herself with him, she would not even have to yield her name. Mrs. Tiptop soon became a pattern-card to all housewives – always having her work done, and well done; and never lacking time nor tongue to entertain visiters, nor health, leisure, or purpose to visit among the neighbors herself. She was one of those women whose husbands are super-numeraries at home, while their wives are mouth-pieces for them abroad.
Her go-aheaditiveness was a new revelation to the plodding villagers; it not only made her household cares a mere song, but enabled her to preside over her husband's business affairs with a dexterity of calculation that soon rendered his own position but a sinecure. In short, Mrs. Tiptop was a trump-card at home, and every where, always winning the game of domestic differences, and turning the chances of all neighborly or church variances, which began to spring up simultaneously with her introduction there.
In person Mrs. Tiptop was tall, of slender frame, and thin, almost to emaciation, giving no indications of physical or mental strength, save that it was "all in the eye" – black, penetrating, "wise as the serpent," and possessing the optical versatility of seeing all sides in a twinkling; yet when its latent forces were single-eyed to a purpose, that end was achieved as unquestionably as when acknowledged by many witnesses.
No sooner did that eye peer through the bridal veil at Mr. Worthiman, on Mrs. Tiptop's introduction to the village church, than her purpose was formed and executed as truly as when carried out through all the intricate passages leading to its accomplishment.
She had determined to be felt in the village, and Mr. Worthiman's godly power over his unsophisticated people was then and there destined to totter from its long settled foundations. Before the next communion season Mrs. Tiptop had sent in her certificate, and was placed on the list of church-members. Here was a footing on which she could stand to use the instruments that would be needed in the premeditated revolution. The initiation of a communicant into a country church is generally succeeded by a call from its officers on the new member. Nothing could be more gracious than Mrs. Tiptop's reception of this church police, who paid her the complimentary visit during the week subsequent to her admission; but in this instance, on Deacon Heedful alone fell the charm of her serpentine eye. Quick as thought in discernment, she penetrated at once through the deacon's tractable physiognomy to his more flexible mind; and while the good man was inwardly congratulating his church on the acquisition of so worthy a member, she was fastening around him the toils in which he was hereafter to do her bidding, as willingly as the dray-horse works in the harness. Deacon Heedful belonged to that small minority of human beings who know nothing of double-meanings or double-dealings; pure in himself, he was the embodiment of that "charity that thinketh no evil" of others; but, unfortunately, of stronger heart than head. Perhaps an innate sense of this crowning weakness made him lend a more ready ear to the suggestions of other minds; at any rate, Mrs. Tiptop soon had him under her easy control, through that psychological law by which superior intellect ever governs its inferior. This accomplished, it were unnecessary to carry the reader through the winding ways which led her, with the deacon, to that point where she could spread out before him the spiritual position of Mr. Worthiman and his church, and convince him that they were "far behind the times." Now this was "a secret" that she had not even communicated to her husband, but in which she could not be mistaken, having come from a town where all was "stirring" in the cause of religion – where the preachers were "wide awake," and dead-level homilies, like Mr. Worthiman's, were not tolerated; for her part, she should soon languish under such enervating sermons as his; and here her fears being profusely watered by tears, began to take root in the heart of Deacon Heedful, who gave her a sympathetic squeeze of the hand on parting with her one evening, and turned, poor man! to the sleepless pillow where she had planted a thorn. He, however, determined to deliberate some days before communicating his fears, even to his brother officers in the church, and never to do it, unless reflection sanctioned Mrs. Tiptop's hints.
But seeds of discontent sown in one mind, are by some Mesmeric sympathy conveyed into another, and another, till a rapid, wide-spread growth is the unlooked for consequence; yet Mrs. Tiptop waited for another visit from the deacon, before breaking the subject to any one else, even to "dear Mr. Tiptop;" so she was not to blame for the disaffection that was springing up around her. Deacon Heedful arrived even sooner than she had anticipated – and most unexpected to her was his account of the spreading influence that had so mysteriously come to light. The deacon's doubts were now matured into a strong sense of duty, and, to the complete satisfaction of Mrs. Tiptop, he had decided to take a stand in the matter.
The only proposition she made was that the leading clergyman of her native town should be invited to exchange one Sabbath with Mr. Worthiman. This he promised should be effected, and took his leave for the purpose. As the parsonage was in his way home, he called to pay his respects to his minister, whom he found confined to the house by an indisposition that would prevent his preaching the following Sabbath; so he requested the deacon to read a sermon, as usual under such circumstances. This was opportune for proposing to call in the aid of a neighboring minister, which Mr. Worthiman acceding to, the matter was soon arranged, and word given out through the village that Mr. Newlight would fill the pulpit the coming Sabbath.
Providence, or some invisible agent, seemed on the side of Mrs. Tiptop, under the inspiration of which she went from house to house, promising the parishioners a treat new to them from Mr. Worthiman's pulpit.
The Sabbath was an anxious one to her, and an eventful one in the Congregational church of Green Valley; the spirit-stirring tones of Mr. Newlight's voice – his forceful manner, and novel forms of presenting old truths, had such an electric effect upon his audience that Mrs. Tiptop's eyes drank their fill of satisfaction, and gratified ambition began to revel in her brain. Nothing was talked of the succeeding day but Mr. Newlight's great sermon; and wishes were openly expressed, mostly by the younger members of the congregation, that Mr. Worthiman was more like him. Dissatisfaction spread like an infectious disease, and before the year expired, a meeting had been called to confer on the subject – the church was divided against itself, and the iron had entered the soul of poor Mr. Worthiman. But the oldest and best of his people, those who had been the pillars of the church, were not to be so easily moved out of place, and the result was, that the disaffected members – including at least one half – immigrated in a body, under the lead of Deacon Heedful and Mrs. Tiptop; were formed into another church, built a modern house of worship, and called a new-school minister to fill its pulpit.
Mr. Lion was a man of strong sense, strong principle, and strong will. His wife was an English lady of family and attainments, who, under the influence of a fervid attachment, had left a high-born circle of friends in her native land, to share the lot of an humble American clergyman, when too young to have attained that maturity of good-breeding which accommodates itself, without apparent effort, to the accidents and diversities of society. Having few attributes of mind, and no tastes in common with the secluded inhabitants of Green Valley, but possessing a kind heart and an amiable temper, she endeavored to conform, so far as native refinement would permit, to the habits and wishes of her husband's pastoral charge.
For the first six months succeeding Mr. Lion's installation the triumph of the immigrants seemed complete. Deacon Heedful was reappointed to the office he held under Mr. Worthiman's ministration, and Mrs. Tiptop assumed her undisputed place of honor next to the minister's wife – introduced a maternal association, and a female prayer-meeting among the women of the congregation, in the exercises of which she invariably took the lead, and made herself so prominently useful, that Deacon Heedful often prayed that she might live to be "a mother in Israel." Even the spirit of discord for a time appeared to be exorcised from their midst, while admiration of the new minister and his lovely wife was the absorbing passion of the day.
But the evil spirit that had built the church was not long to be denied his right to a place in it, and before many months began to show himself in various forms and guises. First, there arose an indistinct murmur that Mr. Lion did not visit his people familiarly and often enough; nor did he make pastoral tea-visits with his wife, as was Mr. Worthiman's custom. Then a whisper was heard that Mrs. Lion seemed to consider herself of "better flesh and blood" than others; that even Mrs. Tiptop wasn't a confidential friend of hers; but they guessed her piety was no better than theirs, by the fashionable way in which she dressed. Then, the new minister and his wife cared more for each other than they did for their parishioners, as they frequently walked out together without stopping to call on any of them. Thus, in various quarters, discontent began to show itself, and somehow or other could always be traced back to Mrs. Tiptop, who evidently felt chagrined at not being invited to share the secrets of Mrs. Lion's household.
But now an unlooked for arrival at the new minister's gave fresh impulse and direction to the evil genius of Green Valley. The new-comer was a sister of Mrs. Lion's, just from England, who, it was understood, would be a future inmate of the family. Miss May proved to have the disadvantages, in the eyes of the village belles, of beauty, accomplishments, and independence of mind and purse. Brought up, and having just completed her education in the city of London, she was now a bird let loose in the free air of the country, whither she had been drawn by affection for her sister, and a desire, not unmingled with romance, to see the land of liberty, and exult in the freedom of its rural scenes. And exult she did– now in the woods and fields gathering wild-flowers, and now, mounted on her English pony, galloping over the hills and away – the villagers said, "none knew where" – the stared-at of all starers, if not "the admired of all admirers." Though Miss May was sweet enough to savor all the village with amiability, and musical enough to harmonize the whole, the venom of the serpent made her sweetness gall to the senses of her brother's envious flock, and her music was discord in their ears.
One morning, as Miss May was riding rapidly over a bridge, her pony stumbled on a loose plank and threw her over his head so violently, that she was taken up senseless by a miller who lived on the stream, and conveyed into his humble abode, where the good man committed her to the care of his wife, while he went for the doctor. Now the village physician, who was a middle-aged, married man, had a bachelor brother connected with him, who was the envy of the village beaux for his gentlemanly air and good looks, he it was who, in this instance, hastened to answer the urgent call of the miller. Dr. Mannerly, on his arrival, found Miss May recovering from her unconsciousness, and quite alarmed at seeing herself in such strange circumstances; but his gentleness, joined with the homely manifestations of kindness and concern on the part of the miller and his wife, soon composed her mind, and after the doctor had taken some blood from her beautiful arm, she was enabled to rise and receive his assurance that she had sustained no very serious injury by the fall. Being, however, too much bruised to mount her pony again, she accepted the doctor's polite offer to take her home in his buggy.
Before night Miss May's adventure was the gossip of the village; especially her ride homeward with the doctor, who was observed to look uncommonly interested, and to be engaged in earnest conversation with his fair companion; nor did it escape the vigilant eye of Mrs. Tiptop that the doctor's buggy stood at the minister's gate every day for a week thereafter, and longer each successive time than she thought necessary for a professional call. And then, when Miss May appeared again on her pony, Dr. Mannerly was by her side, on his own high-mettled horse, (the doctor never rode a tame animal, nor perpetrated a tame remark;) this happened, too, again and again, so that it was soon a settled matter that Miss May and the doctor would be a match.
In the course of a few months, an unusual stir was apparent at the new minister's; the blinds were thrown open in the east parlor, and people were seen bustling through the hall as if in preparation for some important event. As Mr. Lion never received "donation visits," as the custom is with village-ministers, the bustle meant nothing less than Miss May's wedding – and for once, the gossip had some foundation in truth.
Late in the afternoon a handsome carriage drove up to the house, from which alighted a foreign-looking gentleman, of some twenty-five years, who was pronounced to be an English acquaintance of Mrs. Lion's who had been invited to the wedding. And a wedding, true enough, it was, for Dr. Mannerly came hurrying along toward the minister's about dark, equipped from top to toe, and wearing the white vest that decided him to be the happy man. And now the uninvited multitude envied the very lights that made brilliant "the east room," and no language could express their mortification, when the honest chaise of Mr. Worthiman dropped himself and wife at the new minister's door.
But a greater surprise awaited them the following morning, when the carriage that brought the Englishman to the village, was seen rolling rapidly away, and in it, seated by the stranger, was the heroine of all their surmises.
The doctor visited his patients as usual on that day, and the village newspaper announced the marriage, at Green Valley, of Sir Edward Sterling, of London, England, to Miss Rosina May, of the same metropolis.
Mrs. Tiptop and her followers were dumb-founded! But the evil genius, paralyzed for the time, revived ere long again with fresh vigor, and became so vexatious to Mr. and Mrs. Lion, that a dismissal was asked for and obtained from the Second Congregational Church of Green Valley, which, at the last accounts, was about calling a NEW MINISTER.
