Part 12 (1/2)

'Oh flowers of celestial birth!

Though springing from clods of the earth, How rich are the odours ye shed O'er the couch where the languis.h.i.+ng head

'Is pillow'd in gentle repose, Forgetting awhile its past woes; Then waking, the incense of praise, With your odorous breathings, to raise.'

None but those who are recovering from a serious illness can conceive the feelings of grat.i.tude and love which take possession of the heart when it is rightly disposed, what time the rod of affliction is removed.

Mabel seemed to feel herself a new creature, and as she threw her arms round her cousin's neck, she gave expression to feelings of thankfulness and love for the kind attention she had received from her and from her aunt. She did not fail to lament bitterly the pride and sinful temper, which now appeared to her to have been the princ.i.p.al cause of all her trouble.

It was while she was thus bitterly lamenting the past, and weeping on Clara's shoulder, that Aunt Mary came rather suddenly into the room and surprised them.

'Come, my children,' said the kind lady, 'this will never do! Nurse and convalescent both in tears,' she added, for Clara was also weeping; 'I am afraid, dear Mabel, I shall have to dismiss your young attendant, and engage one with more judgment and with less sympathy.'

'Oh no, no, dear aunt,' was the ready response. '_I_ will behave better, I a.s.sure you,' said Clara. 'Poor Mabel is weak, and a little thing makes her cry. She is only sorrowing now for the past; you will teach her, I know, to hope for the future.'

'Yes, even while we sorrow, we must hope; hope is the great lightener of all trouble. Come, cheer up, my child,' said Aunt Mary; 'I have some pleasant news for you to-day. I have just had a letter from Camden Terrace, to say that your papa and mamma and Freddy are coming to see you this afternoon, and to drink tea with me. Ah, I see you can smile, and be glad. We must have no more tears to-day; entertain only thoughts of love and thankfulness.'

CHAPTER XVIII.

A FAMILY PARTY.

What a blessing it is to be possessed of a happy and cheerful disposition!

And who so likely to have such blessing as those who not only _say_ 'Our Father which art in Heaven,' but believing what they say, 'try to walk with Him in love, as dear children.' Such persons diffuse cheerfulness all around them; while on the contrary, those who are selfish and pa.s.sionate, sow the seeds of trouble and discontent broadcast around them. And pride--oh, that hateful sin--what have children to do with pride? Helpless and dependent as they are on parents or friends, what have they to be proud of? Nothing!

Look at that curly-headed little boy, Freddy Ellis, who would be beautiful were it not for the disdainful curl on his upper lip, and the indignant expression in his eye when he has received some supposed affront. Listen to the pa.s.sionate vehemence of his words when he is refused some indulgence which he has been teasing his mamma to grant him, though it would surely try your patience, as it has done mine, to hear the stamping and screaming that is going on just outside the parlour-door; and yet, for all this, Freddy receives no punishment. Oh no! 'It would break his spirit.' What absurd reasoning!

Do we inquire from whom is this spirit, which has more of the _serpent_ than the _dove_? The answer will be, 'It is _not_ from the meek and lowly Saviour!'

Oh parents, whoever you be, take care lest you foster the serpent that will diffuse its subtle poison over the cherished blossoms which you are, or _ought to be_, training for heaven, and leave a sting which may pierce your own hearts. One thing we may be sure of, that the faults which we, through negligence or weak indulgence, leave unchecked in our children in early life, a wiser though severer hand than ours will use the rod of correction to eradicate. And can this really be _love_, that puts off the proper time of chastis.e.m.e.nt, knowing that it is likely to be doubled on that account? Alas, no!

But I must crave pardon for sermonising, and return to the sick chamber, for Mabel's papa and mamma have come to pay their promised visit. Poor girl, she is so thin and pale that papa, who has only seen her twice during her illness, is quite shocked, and sitting down beside the arm-chair, declares that he can scarcely believe she is his once plump, rosy girl. Mamma has seen her often, and has shed many a tear over her suffering child; but still it was a comfort to her to know that Mabel was in such good hands. Sister Julia is also here, looking very sorrowful; but Aunt Mary says:

'Now I am not going to permit anybody who draws a long face to remain in my nursery; so those who look as if they were preparing to cry, instead of to smile, must please take a walk in the garden, till they have recovered themselves. What say you, Freddy, to this?' inquired Aunt Mary of her little nephew, who stood looking on, not knowing seemingly whether he was expected to smile or to cry, though on hearing his aunt's cheery address, he came to the conclusion that it was not necessary for him to commence the disagreeable alternative, although it must be confessed he was a ready pract.i.tioner in yelling bouts.

'I should like to go into the garden, aunt,' responded Freddy. 'I want to see Clara's hens and chickens; may I go now?'

'No, not just now, dear,' replied his aunt; 'your cousin will go with you presently; she is engaged just at present, so you will have to wait.'

This waiting, however, did not at all suit the impatient spirit of Master Fred, and on Aunt Mary's going out of the room he gave expression to his vexation.

'Why can't I go into the garden by myself, I wonder?' he exclaimed pa.s.sionately to his mamma, by whose chair he was standing. 'Aunt needn't think that I should hurt the fowls; it is very unkind of her.'

All this was said in a subdued tone, that papa, who was talking with Mabel, might not hear.

'Hush, hush, Freddy!' said his mother; 'your Aunt Mary is never unkind: you should not say such things of her.'