Part 23 (1/2)
Lx.x.x.
THE CROSS AND THE CROWN.
”Are there no martyrs of whom the world never hears? Are there no victories save on the battle-field? Are there no triumphs save where one can grasp earth's laurel crown? See you none who rise early and sit up late, and turn with a calm, proud scorn from a _gilded fetter_ to _honest toil_? Pa.s.s you never in your daily walks, slight forms with calm brows, and mild eyes, whose whole life has been one prolonged self-struggle? Lip, cheek and brow tell you no tale of the spirit's unrest.
”The 'broad road' is pa.s.sing fair to look upon. The coiled serpent is not visible amid its luxurious foliage. The soft breeze fans the cheek wooingly; laden with the music of happy, careless idlers. Youth, and bloom, and beauty; ay! even _silver hairs_ are there! No tempest lowers; the sky is clear and blue. _What stays yonder slender foot?_ Why pursue so courageously the th.o.r.n.y, rugged, stumbling path? The eye is bright; the limbs are round and graceful; the blood flows warm and free; the s.h.i.+ning hair folds softly away from a pure, fair brow; there are sweet voices _yonder_ to welcome! _there is an_ INWARD _voice to hush_! there are _thrilling_ eyes _there_, to bewilder! _What stay that slender foot?_
”Ah! _The foot-prints of Calvary's_ SUFFERER _are in that 'narrow path_!' That youthful head bends low and unshrinkingly to meet its 'crown of thorns.' The '_Star in the East_' s.h.i.+nes far above those rugged heights, on which its follower reads:--'_To him that_ OVERCOMETH, will I give to eat of the Tree of Life!'
”Dear reader, for _a brief day_, the CROSS; for _uncounted ages_, the CROWN!”
Lx.x.xI.
TOM FAY'S SOLILOQUY.
”'Most any female lodger up a stair, Occasions thought in him who lodges under.'
”Don't they, though? Not a deuced thing have I been able to do since that little gipsy took the room overhead, about a week ago!
Pat--pat--pat, go those little feet over the floor, till I am as nervous as a cat in a china closet, (and _confounded_ pretty they _are_, too, for I caught sight of 'em going up stairs.) Then I can hear her little rocking-chair _creak_, as she sits there sewing, and she keeps singing, '_Love not--love not_,' (just as if a fellow could _help_ it.) Wish she wasn't quite so pretty; it makes me decidedly uncomfortable. Wonder if she has any great six-footer of a brother, or cousin with a sledge-hammer fist? Wish I was her washerwoman, or the little n.i.g.g.e.r who brings her breakfast; wish she'd faint away on the stairs; wish the house would catch fire to-night! Here I am, in this great barn of a room (all alone;) chairs and things set up square against the wall; no little feminine _fixins_ round; I shall have to buy a second-hand _bonnet_, or a pair of little gaiter-boots, to cheat myself into the delusion that there's _two of us_! Wish that little gipsy wasn't as shy as a rabbit? I can't meet her on the stairs if I die for it; I've upset my inkstand a dozen times, hopping up, when I thought I heard her coming. Wonder if she knows (when she sits vegetating there,) that Shakspeare, or Sam Slick, or somebody says, that 'happiness is born a twin?' 'cause if she don't, I'm the missionary that will enlighten her? Wonder if she earns her living, (poor little soul!) It's time I had a wife, by Christopher! (Sitting there, p.r.i.c.king her pretty little fingers with that murderous needle!) If she was sewing on _my d.i.c.keys_, it would be worth while now.
_That's it_--by Jove! _I'll get her to make me some d.i.c.keys_--don't _want_ 'em any more than Satan wants holy water, but _that's_ neither here nor there. I shall insist upon her taking the _measure of my throat_ (bachelors have a right to be _fussy_). There's a pretty kettle of fish, now; either she'll have to stand on a cricket, or I shall have to get on my knees to her! Solomon himself couldn't fix any thing better; deuce take me, if I couldn't say the right thing _then_! This fitting d.i.c.keys is a _work of time_, too. d.i.c.keys _isn't_ to be got up in a hurry.
”Halloo! there's the door-bell! there's a great big trunk dumped down in the entry! 'Is Mrs. Legare at home?' _M-r-s._ Legare?! I like _that_, now! Have I been in love a whole week with M-R-S. Legare? Never mind, _may be_ she's a _widow_! Tramp, tramp, come those masculine feet up stairs--(handsome fellow, too!) N-e-b-u-c-h-a-d-n-ezzar! If I ever heard a kiss in my life, I heard one then! I won't stand it!--it's an invasion of my rights. I'll listen at the door, as I am a sinner! 'My dear husband!!!'--p-h-e-w! What right have sea-captains on sh.o.r.e, I'd like to know? Confound it all! Well, I always _knew_ women weren't worth thinking of; a set of deceitful little monkeys; changeable as a rainbow, superficial as parrots, as full of tricks as a conjuror, stubborn as mules, vain as peac.o.c.ks, noisy as magpies, and full of the 'old Harry' _all_ the time! There's 'Delilah,' now; didn't _she_ take the 'strength' out of Sampson?--and weren't 'Sisera' and 'Judith' born _fiends_? And didn't the little minx of an Herodias dance John the Baptist's head off? Didn't Sarah 'raise _Cain_' with Abraham, till he packed Hagar off? Then there was----(well, the least said about HER, the better!) but didn't Eve, the _foremother_ of the whole concern, _have one talk too many with the old 'serpent_?' OF course; (she didn't do _nothing else_!!) Glad I never set _my_ young affections on _any_ of 'em! Where's my cigar-case! How tormented hot this room is!”
Lx.x.xII.
A CHAPTER ON CLERGYMEN.
”Oh, walk in, Mr. Jones, walk in; a minister's time isn't of much account. He ought to expect to be always ready to see his paris.h.i.+oners. What's the use of having a minister, if you can't use him? Never mind scattering his thoughts to the four winds, just as he gets them glowingly concentrated on some sublime subject; that's a trifle. He's been through college, hasn't he? Then he ought to know a thing or two; and be able to take up the thread of his argument where he laid it down; else where's the almighty difference between him and a layman? If he can't make a practical use of his Greek and Latin and Theology, he had better strip off his black coat, _unshake_ his 'right hand of fellows.h.i.+p,' and throw up his commission. Take a seat, Mr.
Jones; talk to him about your crops; make him plough over a dozen imaginary fields with you; he ought to be able to make a quick transit from 'predestination' to potatoes. Why, just think of the man's salary--_and you helping to pay it_! Nebuchadnezzar! haven't you hired him, soul and body? He don't belong to himself at all, except when he's asleep. Mind and give him a little wholesome advice before you leave; inquire how many pounds of tea he uses per week, and ask him how he came to be so unclerical as to take a ride on horseback the other day; and how much the hostler charged him for the animal, and whether he went on a gallop, or a canter, or an orthodox trot? Let him know, very decidedly, that ministers are not expected to have nerves, or head-aches, or side-aches, or heart aches. If they get weary writing (which they've no business to,) let them go down cellar and chop some wood. As to relaxation suggestive of beautiful thoughts, which a gallop on a fleet horse through the country might furnish, where the sweet air fans the aching temples caressingly, where fields of golden grain wave in the glad sunlight, where the blended beauty of sky and sea, and rock and river, and hill and valley, send a thrill of pleasure through every inlet of the soul--pshaw! that's all transcendental nonsense, fit only for green boarding-school girls and silly scribbling women,--a minister ought to be above such things, and have a heart as tough as the doctrine of election. He ought to be a regular theological sledge-hammer, always sharpened up, and ready to do execution without any unnecessary glitter. That's it!
”Fact is, Mr. Jones, (between you and I and the vestry door,) it is lucky there are some philanthropic laymen like yourself who are willing to look after these ministers. It's the more generous in you because we are all aware it's a thing you don't take the _slightest pleasure_ in doing(?) You may not get your reward for it in this world, but if you don't in the next, I shall make up _my_ mind, that Lucifer is remiss in his duty.”
Lx.x.xIII.
f.a.n.n.y FERN ON HUSBANDS.
”'Husbands should by all means a.s.sist their wives in making home happy, and strive to preserve the hearts they have won.
When you return from your daily avocations, meet your beloved with a smile of joy and satisfaction--take her by the hand--imprint an affectionate kiss upon her lips.'