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 Hamilton, James, 1814-1867. 
 The happy home 
 
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 ROBERT CARTER & BROTHERS, 2Brj BROADWAY. 
 
THE 
 
 HAPPY HOME: 
 
 AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED TO 
 
 THK WORKING PEOPLE. 
 
 REV. JAMES HAMILTON, D. D., 
 
 AUTHOR or "LIFE IN EARNEST," "HARP ON THE WILLOWS,' 
 ' MOUNT OF OLIVES," " THANKFULNESS," " LIFE OF HALL," ETC. 
 
 0S?itt) Sllnstcations bs |Qoh)lanli. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 ROBERT CARTER & BROTHERS, 
 
 285 BROADWAY. 
 1850. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 The Friend of the People 9 
 
 The Ship of Heaten 26 
 
 A Bunch in the Hand, and more on the Bush 60 
 
 The Gun or the Gospel 95 
 
 The Oasis 120 
 
 The Fireside , 148 
 
 Dat-Dreams 182 
 
 Fire-Flies 203 
 
 The Faithful Servaitt 237 
 
 The True Disciple 266 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The writer of the following pages has some ac- 
 quaintance with working-men. In early life he 
 numbered many of them among his friends — Avas 
 admitted to their meetings for religious and intel- 
 lectual improvement — and at the table of a noble- 
 minded relative, who regarded piety as the true 
 gentility, he met them as frequent guests. Sub- 
 sequent years have given him no reason to regret 
 that intercourse, nor to repudiate those ancient 
 friendships ; but they have taught him that British 
 Christianity is ill acquainted with British indus- 
 try. Seldom, for instance, has he found a reli- 
 gious book entirely suited to the laborer as he is. 
 We have good books in abundance, but they are 
 usually written with an eye to the parlor or bou- 
 doir. And we have myriads of tracts ; but their 
 topics and their style are mostly a tradition from 
 Hannah More, and do not meet our modern exi- 
 1* 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 gency. ** Sorrowful Sam" and " Diligent Dick'* 
 are gone the way of all living, and a new gener- 
 ation has started up : a generation shrewd, active, 
 and knowing ; a generation of vigorous minds, 
 fond of information, and bent on improvement. 
 To that generation these papers are inscribed. 
 Their author writes for the English and Scottish 
 operative, for the mechanic, the daily laborer, and 
 the artisan. He does not constitute himself their 
 patron or their censor ; he will be content if he 
 can earn the name cf friend. And with a view 
 .o this, he will tell the truths which he deems 
 ratost urgent ; and tell rhem simply, as they are 
 simple to his own perception — and briefly, for 
 they are busy men whose leisure he solicits. 
 
 With politics he does not intermeddle. From 
 his faith in Christianity, he has great hope for the 
 popular future : but, anxious to secure a' tranquil 
 hearing for matters more urgent, he abstains from 
 subjects of ephemeral interest. He has too much 
 love for the gospel to employ it as gilding for 
 party-prescriptions, and too much reverence for 
 the Bible to use it as a bird-lime for the poli- 
 ticians who fly, or a ground-bait for those who 
 grovel. So far as it is known to himself, his aim 
 is philanthropic, and he asks no help from any 
 civil faction. Nor is he recruiting for a religious 
 sect. He has his favorite haunts, and it is long 
 since he fixed his denominational dwelling. But 
 
PREFACE. 7 
 
 Kent need not contend with Cornwall, because 
 the one fends off the sea with cliffs of chalk, and 
 the other with granite bulwarks ; or because the 
 one gleans its wealth on the surface, and the other 
 digs it from the depths. Each is a portion of the 
 same favored isle, and each helps to make the 
 other rich. And, blessed be God ! there is such a 
 thing as evangelic patriotism. The writer seeks 
 the extension of the universal church. His creed 
 is the gospel ; his sect is Christianity ; and " One 
 is his Master, even Jesus Christ." 
 
 His mission is to working-men. He knows 
 that few of them are happy. Some of them sub- 
 scribe to the sentiment of a popular Frenchman : 
 " The Redeemer has come ; the redemption is not 
 come yet." They forget that it was to the world 
 that the Redeemer came, and that it is to the in- 
 dividual that the redemption comes. To render 
 evident this truth is the object of the following 
 pages ; and in the attempt we shall take for 
 guides those famous working-men who once rev- 
 olutionized the world, and who infected many a 
 gloomy spirit with their own exuberant blessed- 
 ness. Listening to their lesson, we learn that 
 God has made every man the keeper of his own 
 comfort. We find that happiness is not a politi- 
 cal adjustment, but a personal possession. We 
 are told that, however wrong the state of society, 
 the religion of Jesus is portable and self-contained 
 
8 PREFACE. 
 
 felicity. "We shall go back to the times of these 
 tent-makers, and sit beside them as they shape 
 the canvass and carve the stretching-pins,* and 
 will ask them why they sing those stately psalms, 
 and feel so rich amid their poverty. And wheth- 
 er read in an English cottage or on a colonial 
 wild, by the village laborer or the city artisan, 
 we trust and pray that the answer may reveal to 
 some who have not found it yet — the secret of a 
 Happy Home. 
 Saturday, June 17, 1848. 
 
 * Acta xviii. 3 
 
PETER THE GREAT 
 
 Page 9 
 
THE 
 
 HAPPY HOME. 
 
 THE FRIEND OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 Last century a Russian emperor gained 
 much renown by the exertions and sacri- 
 fices he ntiade for his dominion^. Impressed 
 by their savage state, and eager to introduce 
 the arts and accomplishments of more cul- 
 tured nations, he resolved to become him- 
 self the engineer and preceptor of his peo- 
 ple. Instead of sending a few clever men 
 to glean what they could in foreign regions, 
 he determined to be his own envoy ; and 
 leaving his Moscow palace, he set out to 
 travel in Holland and Great Britain. He 
 
10 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 was particularly anxious to carry home the 
 art of naval architecture ; for he wisely 
 judged, that without ships and seamen, his 
 empire would never be able to turn its own 
 resources to account. However, he soon 
 found that no man could learn to be a ship- 
 builder by merely looking on ; but what- 
 ever it might need, Peter was determined 
 to do. With a noble energy, he changed 
 his gay clothing for the garb of a carpen- 
 ter, and spent week after week in the build- 
 ing-yard at kSaardam, wielding the hatchet, 
 flourishing the tar-brush, and driving bolts 
 till the pent-house rang again ; and soon 
 was he able to go home and teach his 
 people how to build ships for themselves. 
 No wonder that, while other monarchs are 
 depicted in purple and ermine, the artist 
 should prefer representing Peter, the czar 
 of Muscovy, in his red woollen jacket, and 
 crowned with the glazed hat of a sailor, with 
 a timber log for his throne, and an adze for 
 his sceptre. And no wonder that a grateful 
 country should rear to his memory the 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE PEOPLE. 11 
 
 proudest column in the world, and christen 
 by his name its capital. 
 
 Far nobler than this achievement of the 
 emperor Peter, are some facts recorded in 
 the history of philanthropy. It was a no- 
 bler thing, for instance, when, in order to 
 gain personal knowledge of its horrors, and 
 to be able to testify against them afterward, 
 an English gentleman took his passage in 
 an African slaver, and submitted voluntarily 
 to months of filth and fever, at the peril of 
 his life, and to the hourly torture of his 
 feelings. And still nobler was the conduct 
 of those angelic missionaries, who, finding 
 no other way to introduce the gospel among 
 the negroes of Barbadoes, sold themselves 
 to slavery, and then told their fellow-bonds- 
 men the news which sets the spirit free. 
 And noblest of all was the self-devotion 
 of two Moravians, of whom some of you 
 have read. They were filled with pity for 
 the inmates of a fearful lazaretto. It was 
 an enclosure in which persons afflicted with 
 leprosy were confined ; and so terrified for 
 
12 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 its contagion were the people, that once 
 within the dismal gates, no one was suffered 
 to quit them again. But the state of its 
 doomed inmates so preyed on these com- 
 passionate men, that they resolved at all 
 hazard to cheer them in captivity, and to 
 try to save their souls. They counted the 
 cost. They said : " Farewell, freedom — 
 farewell, society — farewell, happy sun and 
 healthy breezes ;" and passed the return- 
 less portals, each a living sacrifice. 
 
 The state of our world touched with 
 com[)assion the Son of God. He left his 
 home in heaven, and came hither. The 
 King of kings put off his glory. He came 
 to this scene of guilt and misery. He left 
 the adoring fellowship above, and came 
 down among creatures who disliked him, 
 and could not comprehend him. On his 
 benevolent errand, he alighted on this 
 plague-stricken planet, and became for 
 more than thirty years identified with its 
 inmates, and in perpetual contact with its 
 sin and its sorrow. And while his eye was 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE PEOPLE. 13 
 
 intent on some bright consummation, he 
 did not grudge to be for many years the 
 exile and prisoner, and at last the victim. 
 
 And I think il should be interesting to 
 you, to remember the lot in human life 
 which the Saviour selected. He had his 
 choice. He might have chosen for his 
 residence a mansion or a palace ; bui he 
 chose for his domicil, so long as he had 
 one, the cottage of a carpenter. He cast 
 his earthly lot alongside of the laboring 
 man ; and besides the intentional lowlihood, 
 there were other ends it answered. 
 
 It lent new dignity to labor. Some silly 
 people feel it a disgrace to work ; they 
 blush to be detected in an act of industry. 
 They fancy that it is dignity to have nothing 
 to do, and a token of refinement to be able 
 to do nothing. They forget that it is easy 
 to be useless, and that it needs no talent to 
 cumber the ground. But the Lord Jesus 
 knew that it is best for the world when all 
 are workers ; and he conformed to the good 
 rule of Palestine, which required every cit- 
 2 
 
14 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 izen to piiPi^ue some employment. And 
 instead of selectin;^ a brilliant ocmpation, 
 he irave himself to one humble and com- 
 monplace, that we mii^ht lenrn how possible 
 it is to flo extraordinary good in a very 
 inconspicuous station. 
 
 And by this selection he left an example 
 to workino; men. Roucrh work is no rea- 
 son for rude manners or a vulgar mind. 
 Never did there traverse the o:lobe a pres- 
 ence so pure, and a fascination so divine, 
 as moved about in the person of the " car- 
 penter's son." So gentle in his dignity; 
 so awful in his meekness ; so winsome in 
 his lovingness ; so dexterous in diffusing 
 happiness ; so delicate in healing inward 
 hurts; so gracious in forestalling wishes! 
 no rules of etiquette, no polish of society, 
 can ever yield anew the same majestic 
 suavity. Amid the daily drudgery, his 
 soul was often swelling with its wondrous 
 purpose ; and while shaping for the boors 
 of Galilee their implements of industry, his 
 spirit was commercing with the sky. They 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE PEOPLE. 15 
 
 are not little occupations, but little thoughts 
 and little notions, which make the little 
 man ; and the grandeur of mien, and the 
 engaijjing manners, which emerged from 
 that Nazarene workshop, are a lesson to 
 those who handle the hammer, the spade, 
 or the shuttle. But far more, — the sanc- 
 tity. In a towif of bad repute — forced 
 into the company of ruffians and blas- 
 phemers, — all the uncongenial fellowship 
 showed liim the more conspicuously "holy, 
 harmless, undefiled, separate from sinners." 
 And if you complain that you are shut up 
 to the society of loose and low-minded 
 men — if constrained to listen to words 
 ribald and profane, or to witness coarse 
 debauchery — remember that it was in the 
 guise of a laboring man that the Saviour 
 fought the world's corruption, and over- 
 came. And if like to be worsted, cry for 
 help to Him who, among his other mem- 
 ories of earth, remembers Galilee ; — who, 
 now that he has done with the carpenter's 
 shop for ever, has not forgotten the surly 
 
16 THE HAPPY HQBIE. 
 
 neighbors and the abandoned town ; and 
 whose solitary example destroyed the prov- 
 erb, " Can any good thing come out of 
 Nazareth ?" 
 
 And by choosing this humble lot, the 
 Saviour learned to sympathize with penury. 
 Whatever wealthy bards may sing of the 
 sweets of poverty, it is a painful thing to 
 be very poor. To be a poor man's child, 
 and look through the rails of the play- 
 ground, and envy richer boys for the sake 
 of their many books, and yet be doomed to 
 ignorance ; to be apprenticed to some harsh 
 stranger, and feel for ever banished from a 
 mother's tenderness and a sister's love ; to 
 work when very weary ; to work when the 
 heart is sick and the head is sore ; to see a 
 wife or a darling child wasting away, and 
 not be able to get the best advice ; to hope 
 that better food or purer air might set her 
 up again, but that food you can not buy — 
 that air you must never hope to breathe ; 
 to be obliged to let her die ; to come home 
 from the daily task, some evening, and see 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE PEOPLE. 17 
 
 her sinking ; to sit up all night, in hope to 
 catch again those precious words you might 
 have heard could you have afforded to stay 
 at home all day, but never hear them ; to 
 have no mourners at the funeral, or even 
 carry on your own shoulder through the 
 merry streets the light deal coffin ; to see 
 huddled into a promiscuous hole the dust 
 which is so dear to you, and not venture 
 to mark the spot by planted flower or low- 
 liest stone ; some bitter winter, or some 
 costly spring, to barter for food the clock 
 or the curious cupboard, or the "Henry's 
 Commentary," on which you prided your- 
 self as the heir-loom of a frugal family, and 
 never be able to redeem it ; to feel that 
 you are getting old — nothing laid aside, 
 and present earnings scarce sufficient; to 
 change the parlor floor for the top story, 
 and the top story for a single attic, and 
 wonder what change will be the next; — 
 these and a thousand privations are the' 
 pains of poverty. And in the days when 
 the world's Redeemer occupied the poor 
 2* 
 
18 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 man's home, he was familiar with sights 
 the parallels of these. He noted them — 
 he entered into them — he shared them. 
 Even at the time, he did somewhat to 
 relieve them. It was in such a scene that 
 he let forth the first glimpse of his ir'ory. 
 The scanty store of wine had failed at a 
 marriage-feast, and, to relieve the embar- 
 rassment of his humble entertainers, he 
 created a new supply. And it was in a 
 similar scene that the second of his healing 
 miracles was wrought, and his entrance 
 to Simon's fishing-hut was signalized by 
 restoring from a fever his sick mother-in- 
 law. And, not to dwell on the miracles 
 of mercy which restored to the widow of 
 Nain her only son, and to the sisters of 
 Bethany their only brother, it is worth 
 while to notice how many of his wonders 
 were presents to the poor. A weary boat- 
 man has swept the waves all night and 
 captured not a single fin. Jesus bids him 
 drop the net in a particular spot, and 
 instantly it welters with a silvery spoil. 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE PEOPLE. 19 
 
 Again and again the eager throng hangs 
 round him till the sun is setting, and it is 
 discovered that there are only a few small 
 loaves among all the fainting thousands; 
 but he speaks the word, and as little loaves 
 bulk out an endless banquet, the famished 
 villagers rejoice in the rare repast. And 
 though he did not grudge his cures to cen- 
 turions and rulers of the synagogues, they 
 were usually the poor and despised who 
 craved and got the largest share — the 
 woman who had spent on physicians all that 
 she had ; the impotent man at Bethesda ; 
 the Samaritan lepers ; and Bartimeus, the 
 blind beggar. And thus would the kind 
 Redeemer teach us, that if there are always 
 to be the poor on earth, there will always 
 be the poor man's Friend in heaven. He 
 would teach those sons of toil who are his 
 true disciples, that in all their afflictions he 
 is afflicted ; that he knows their frame and 
 feels their sorrow. And should these lines 
 be read by one who is indigent in spite of 
 all his industry, let him remember how it 
 
20 * THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 fared with the world's best benefactor when 
 here below — let him remember that the 
 Saviour himself had once nowhere to lay 
 his head, and asking for a cup of cold 
 water, could scarcely obtain it. But now 
 that he has all power in heaven and earth, 
 that Saviour is as tender as ever ; and 
 to you, oh children of want and wo ! he 
 says, " Come unto me, all ye that labor 
 and are heavy laden, and I will give you 
 rest." 
 
 But I hasten to notice the greatest boon 
 which the Saviour purchased. Returning 
 to an instance already mentioned : had you 
 seen the devoted missionaries pass into the 
 leper hospital, along with admiration of 
 their kindness, you would have felt a griev- 
 ous pang at such an immolation. To think 
 that men in the height of health should thus 
 be lost to the land of the living — that good 
 men and generous should be buried quick 
 in such a ghastly grave — it would have 
 oppressed your spirit, and you could only 
 have given grudging approbation to such a 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE PEOPLE. 21 
 
 self-devotement. But if, at the end of a 
 certain term, they had appeared at the gate 
 again, and along with them a goodly band 
 of the poor victims restored to perfect 
 soundness ; if it turned out that they had 
 not only been able to mitigate much suffer- 
 ing, but, in the case of every one who sub- 
 mitted to their treatment, had effected a 
 perfect cure ; and if, on examining the 
 matter, the competent authorities declared 
 that not only were these heroes of humanity 
 themselves uninjured, but that those whom 
 they brought with them were clean every 
 whit, and might forthwith pass out into the 
 world of the hale and the happy, you would 
 be more than reconciled to the great price 
 which purchased such a wondrous restora- 
 tion. When Immanuel went into this 
 world — when he first put human nature 
 on, and in all his innocence identified him 
 self with the fate of sinful men — we might 
 almost imagine the anxiety awakened by 
 this '* mystery of godliness" in any celes- 
 tial spirit who did not foreknow the issue. 
 
22 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 But when that issue was developed — 
 when, with a muhitude which no man can 
 number, rescued and restored, the mighty 
 Redeemer reappeared at the gate of the 
 lazaretto — when infinite purity, and eternal 
 justice, and the holy law, recognised not 
 only an immaculate Deliverer, but in all his 
 ransomed company could detect no stain 
 of sin, no spot of the old corruption — 
 when it^was pronounced that millions of 
 plague-stricken beings were now so con- 
 valescent and so pure, that they might even 
 pass the pearly gates and join the fellow- 
 ship of angels, enough was seen to justify 
 the self-denial, though that self-denial was 
 the incarnation of the 8on of God — enough 
 to recompense the sacrifice, though that 
 sacrifice was the death of a Divine Re- 
 deemer. 
 
 But this was the simple fact : An Angel 
 of mercy, a Volunteer of pure compassion, 
 the Saviour assumed our nature, and vis- 
 ited our world. The Word was made 
 flesh, and dwelt among us. And, coming 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE PEOPLE. 23 
 
 into the world, he came into a moral laz- 
 aretto. Young and old, rich and poor, 
 every soul was smitten with sin's disgusting 
 malady. None were holy ; none sought 
 after God. All were corrupt; all were, to 
 God's pure eye, offensive; and all were 
 sickening toward the second death. And 
 by coming hither and taking on the human 
 nature, the Son of God committed himself 
 to our woful case. He virtually declared, 
 that unless he brought a convalescent com- 
 pany with him, he would return to heaven 
 no more. But the balsam which alone 
 could heal this malady, was found to be 
 very costly. It must contain, as an ingre- 
 dient, something which could compensate 
 for sin ; something so compensating, that 
 God would be a just God in forgiving the 
 sinner. And nothing, it was found, could 
 atone for guilt, save blood divine. But 
 Jesus had counted the cost; and even this 
 price he was prepared to pay. And he 
 paid it : he offered himself as the propitia- 
 tion for sin, and he was accepted. And 
 
£4 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 though among those whom he sought to 
 save were atheists and inficiels, nmrderers 
 and liars, blasphemers and s:ibbalh-break- 
 erri, thieves and robbers, drunkards and 
 debauchees, that one offering was infinite, 
 and more than sufficed. It finished trans- 
 gression, and the Supreme Judge and Law- 
 giver proclaimed it to the world, " The 
 blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all 
 sin." And reappearing at the gates of 
 Paradise with his ransomed, " the gates 
 lifted up their heads ;" and having long 
 since returned from that errand of kind- 
 ness, and rejoined the acclaiming celestials, 
 already has the King of Glory been fol- 
 lowed by many a trophy of his life-giving 
 death and peace-speaking blood. Dear 
 reader, will not you be another? Will 
 you not intrust your soul to One so skilful 
 to heal, and so mighty to save? Will you 
 not begin to sing that new song even here, 
 "Thou art worthy; for thou wast slain, 
 and hast redeemed us to God by thy 
 blood?" And will you not, from this 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE PEOPLE. 25 
 
 time forward, give a higher place in your 
 affections to that adorable Friend, " who, 
 though he was rich, for your sakes became 
 poor, that ye through his poverty might 
 be rich 9" 
 
 3 
 
THE SHIP OF HEAVEN. 
 
 The man was very poor, and one of 
 those poor men who never make it any 
 better. Always so laggard and so listless, 
 he looked as if he had come into the world 
 with only half his soul. Having no fond- 
 ness for exertion, he had great faith in wind- 
 falls ; and once or twice he was favored 
 with a windfall ; but as he took no pains to 
 secure it and turn it to account, the same 
 fickle element which brought it soon wafted 
 it away. His character was gone ; his 
 principles, never firm, were fast decaying; 
 and between laziness and bad habits, he was 
 little better than the ruin of a man. He 
 had a brother far away ; but so many years 
 had come and gone since last he was seen 
 in those regions, that he was faintly recollect- 
 ed. Indeed, so long since was it, that this 
 
THE DISCONSOLATE MAN. 
 
 Page 27 
 
THE SHIP OF HEAVEN. 27 ~ 
 
 man had no remembrance of him. But 
 one evening a messenger came to him, tell- 
 ing him that his brother lived, and in token 
 of his love, had sent him the present of a 
 gallant ship with all its cargo. The man 
 was in a heartless mood. He was sitting in 
 his dingy chamber ; no fire on the hearth, 
 no loaf in the cupboard, no pence in his 
 pocket, no credit in that neighborhood, 
 bleak weather in the world, bleak feelings 
 in his soul. And as, with folded arms, he 
 perched on an empty chest and listened to 
 the news, he neither wondered nor rejoiced. 
 Sure enough it was a windfall ; but he was 
 not just then in a romantic or wistful mood, 
 and so he heard it sullenly. No ; he neither 
 danced nor capered, neither laughed nor 
 shouted, but coldly walked away — scarcely 
 hoping, scarcely caring to find it true. And 
 when, at last, he reached the port, and espied 
 the ship, it dispelled all his boyish dreams 
 of eastern merchantmen. The masts were 
 not palms, with silken cords furling the 
 purple sails ; nor did its bulwarks gild the 
 
28 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 water, and its beams of sandal scent the 
 air. It was much like the barques around 
 it — chafed, and weathered, and bleached by 
 the billows, and bore no outward token of a 
 gorgeous freight. But stepping on board, 
 as soon as the master of the vessel knew 
 who he was, he addressed him respectfully, 
 and descanted with glowing warmth on the 
 glories and generosity of his absent brother, 
 and then invited him below to feast his eyes 
 on his new possession. There was gold, 
 and the red ingots looked so rich, and 
 weighed in the hand so heavy; there were 
 robes, stiff with embroidery, and bright 
 with ruby and sapphire stars ; there were 
 spices such as the fervid sun distils from 
 the fragrant soil in that exuberant zone, and 
 dainties such as only load the tropic trees. 
 Nor in the wealthy invoice had forethought 
 and affection omitted any good ; for there 
 were even some herbs and anodynes of 
 singular power; a balm which healed en- 
 venomed wounds ; an ointment which 
 brought back the failing sight; a cordial 
 
THE SHIP OF HEAVEN. 29 
 
 which kept from fainting; and a prepara- 
 tion which made the wi arer proof against the 
 fire. And there was a bulky parchment, 
 the title-deeds to a laro^e domain somewhere 
 in that sunny land ; and along with all a 
 letter, distinct and full, in the princely do- 
 nor's autograph. Of that letter, the younger 
 brother sat down and read a portion there ; 
 and as he read, he looked around him to 
 see that it was all reality ; and then he read 
 again, and his lip quivered, and his eye 
 filled, and as the letter dropped upon his 
 lap, he smote upon his breast, and called 
 himself by some bitter name. And then 
 he started up ; and if you had only seen 
 him — such an altered man ; such energy, 
 and yet such mildness ; such affection, and 
 withal such heroism as beamed of a sudden 
 in his kindling countenance ; you would 
 have thought that, amid its other wonders, 
 that foreign ship had fetched the remainder 
 of his soul. And so it had. From that 
 day forward, he was another man ; grudg- 
 ing no labor, doing nothing by halves, his 
 3* 
 
30 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 character changed, his reputation retrieved, 
 his wbiole existence filled with a new con- 
 sciousness, and inspired hy a new irjoiive, 
 and all his sanguine schemes and cheerful 
 efforts convero^ing toward the happy day 
 which should transport him to the arms of 
 that unseen brother. 
 
 Reader, have you lost heart about your- 
 self? Once on a time you had some anx- 
 iety about character. You wished that you 
 had greater strength of principle, and that 
 your moral standing were more respectable. 
 You envied the virtuous energy of those 
 friends who can resist temptation, and com- 
 bat successfully the evil influences around 
 them. You have even wished that you 
 could wake up some morning and find 
 yourself a Christian ; and you have some- 
 times hoped that this happiness might at 
 length befall you. But there is, as yet, no 
 sign of it. Startling providences have 
 passed over you, but they have not fright- 
 ened you out of your evil habits ; and, 
 from time to time, amiable and engaging 
 
THE SHIP OF HEAVEN. 31 
 
 friends have gained ascendency over you, 
 but they have not been able to allure you 
 into the paths of piety. And now yoii are 
 discouraged. You know that some vicious 
 habit is getting a firmer and more fearful 
 hold of you, and if you durst own it to 
 yourself, you have now no hope of a lofty 
 or virtuous future. You feel abject, and 
 spiritless, and self-disgusted, and have 
 nearly made up your mind to saunter slip- 
 shod down the road to ruin. 
 
 You do not remember your Elder 
 Brother, for he had left those regions be- 
 fore you were born. But this comes to 
 tell you that he lives and wishes you well. 
 In the far country whither he has gone, he 
 knows how you are, and is much concerned 
 at your present condition. And he feels 
 for you none the less, that in all that land 
 he is himself the richest and the mightiest. 
 And to show that, amid all his glory, he is 
 not ashamed to be called your brother, he 
 has sent you a noble gift — a ship freighted 
 with some of his choicest acquisitions, and 
 
22 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 bringing everything good for a man like 
 you. 
 
 And be not vexed nor angry when I tell 
 you, that that ship of heaven is the Bible. 
 If, instead of touching at every land and 
 coming to every door — if only a few Bibles 
 arrived now and then ready-made and 
 direct from heaven, and each addressed to 
 some particular person — and if none be- 
 sides were allowed to handle their contents 
 or appropriate their treasures — how justly 
 might the world envy that favored few ! 
 But having purchased gifts for men while 
 here among us, and being highly exalted 
 where he is gone, the Saviour in his kind- 
 ness sends this heaven-laden book, this 
 celestial argosie, to all his brethren here 
 below, and each alike is welcome to its 
 costly freight. Despise it not ! There is 
 nothing dazzling in its exterior. It is plain 
 and unpretending. No rainbow lights its 
 margin, nor do phosphorescent letters come 
 and go on its azure pages. But the wealth 
 of the Indian carack is neither its timbers 
 
THE SHIP OF HEAVEN. 33 
 
 nor its rigging ; it hides its treasure in the 
 hold. The wonder of the Bible is neither 
 its binding nor its type — nay, not even 
 (though these are wonderful) its language 
 and its style. It makes God glorious, and 
 the reader blessed, by the wealth it carries 
 and the truths it tells. 
 
 To recite at full the letter, would take 
 too long. A brother's heart yearns in it 
 all ; but what a holy, and what an exalted 
 brother ! He informs you that all power is 
 given him in heaven and earth, and that 
 from his Father he has received such ample 
 authority, that all throughout these domin- 
 ions, life and death are in his hands. He 
 says that he is grieved to know your 
 wretched position ; but he bids you not to 
 lose heait, for if you only take advantage 
 of what he has sent you, there will be an 
 end of your misery. Aud he adds, that, 
 freely and lovingly as he forwards these 
 gifts, they cost him much ; they have cost 
 him labor and sorrow, groans and anguish, 
 tears and blood. He begs that you will take 
 
34 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 frankly what is iriven kindly, and assures 
 you that nothing will gladden him more 
 than to hail you to his home and instnl vou 
 in his kingdom. And lest there be any 
 mattei which you do not riirhtly under- 
 stand, and on which you would like fuller 
 information, or more help till then, there is 
 a very wise and much-loved friend of his, 
 who is willing to come and abide with you 
 until he and you shall meet again. 
 
 But, begging you to read the letter at 
 your leisure, let us step for a few minutes 
 on board. Let us glance at some of those 
 costly gifts which the Saviour purchased 
 long ago, and which, in this Book of 
 Heaven, he sends to our island-planet, and 
 to the several abodes of us sinners who 
 inhabit it. 
 
 And, first of all, look at this fine gold. 
 Among material substances, the one most 
 prized is gold. Not only is it very beau- 
 tiful, but it is the means of procuring each 
 rare commodity. Hence, we call him a 
 rich man who abounds in it, and him a 
 
THE SHIP OF HEAVEN. 35 
 
 poor man who has got none of it. And 
 in the spiritual domain, the equivalent of 
 gold is goodness. By holy beings, and by 
 God himself, the thing most prized is not 
 money, but moral worth; not gold, but 
 goodness. And when God first ushered 
 on existence his new creature, man, he gave 
 him a portion of heaven's capital to begin 
 with : he gave him holy tastes and dispo- 
 sitions, a pure and pious mind. But man 
 soon lost it. He suffered himself to be 
 defrauded of his original ris;hteousness ; 
 and on that di-mal day, he who rose the 
 heir of immortality, lay down a bankrupt 
 and a pauper. All was lost ; and though 
 he tried to replace it by a glittering coun- 
 terfeit, the substitute had not one atom of 
 what is essential to genuine goodness. It 
 entirely lacked the love of God; and 
 no sooner had Jehovah applied the touch- 
 stone, than in grief and displeasure he 
 exclaimed, " How is the gold become dim ! 
 how is the most fine gold changed !" And 
 yet that gold was essential — nothing could 
 
96 THE HAPPT HOME. 
 
 compensate for it. No merit, tlien no re- 
 warH ; no riii^hteousness, no heaven. And 
 which guarantied a glorious immortality, 
 man had lost the only thing which entided 
 him to the favor of God — the only thing 
 It was then that his case was undertaken 
 by. a Kinsman-Redeemer. To a holy hu- 
 manity he superadded the wisdom and 
 strength of Deity ; and divinely authorized, 
 he took the field — the surety and repre- 
 sentative of ruined man. In his heart he 
 hid the holy law; and in his suhlime fulfil- 
 ment of it, he magnified that law and made 
 it honorable. And between the precious 
 blood he shed, as an expiation for sin, and 
 the spotless obedience which he offered on 
 behalf of his people, he wrought out a 
 redundant and everlasting righteousness. 
 It was tested, and was found to be without 
 one particle of alloy. It was put into the 
 balance, but the sin has never yet been 
 found which could outweigh the merits of 
 Immanuel. The righteousness of Christ, 
 as the sinner's representative, is the most 
 
THE SHIP OF HEAVEN. 37 
 
 golden thing in all the gospel ; and it is 
 because of its conveying and revealing that 
 riiihteousness, that the gospel is the power 
 of God, and the wisdom of God unto sal- 
 vation.* Be counselled to buy this fine 
 gold, and you will be rich.t Accept, poor 
 sinner, this righteousness of the Saviour, 
 and you will be justified freely by a gra- 
 cious God, through the redemption that is 
 in Christ.j: God will be well pleased with 
 you because you are well pleased with his 
 beloved Son ; and will count you righteous 
 for the sake of that righteousness which the 
 Saviour wrought out, and which the gos- 
 pel reveals, and which, thankfully receiv- 
 ing, you present to a righteous God as your 
 plea for pardon, and your passport to the 
 kiugdom of heaven. 
 
 This is the glory of the gospel. It 
 
 REVEALS A RIGHTEOUSNESS. And juSt 
 
 as the man whose affairs are all entangled 
 
 would be thankful for money sufficient la 
 
 discharge his debts, and set him on a foot- 
 
 • Rom. i. 16, 17. f Rev. iii. 18. X ^o™- ^- 20-26. 
 
 4 
 
38 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 ing with his honest nei^rhhors, so the man 
 wlio knows himself a debtor to Divine jus- 
 tice would be unspeakably thankful for 
 that possession, whatever it may be, which 
 would cancel all his liabilities, and place 
 him on a level with those happy beings 
 who have never sinned at all. This pos- 
 session is an adequate righteousness ; and 
 if the reader be anxious to enjoy God's 
 favor, he will hail the gospel, for it reveals 
 that righteousness. 
 
 In other days, when men were in w^ant 
 of money, they sometimes tried to manu- 
 facture gold. The alchymist gleaned a 
 portion of every possible substance from 
 ocean, earth, and air, and put theiu all into 
 his crucible, and then subjected the medley 
 to the most tedious and expensive processes. 
 And after days or months of watching, the 
 poor man was rewarded by seeing a few 
 grains of shining metal, and in the excite- 
 ment of near discovery, the sweat stood 
 upon his brow, and he urged the fire afresh, 
 and muttered, with trembling diligence, the 
 
IRK SHIP OF fiEAVEN. 
 
 spell which was to evoke the mystery. 
 And thus, day by day, and year by year, 
 with hungry face and blinking eyes, he ga- 
 zed into his fining-pot, and stirred the molt- 
 en rubbish, till one morning the neighbors 
 came and found the fire extinct, and the 
 ashes blown about, and the old alchymist 
 stiff, and dead, on the laboratory floor ; and 
 when they looked into the broken crucible, 
 they saw that after all his pains, the base 
 metals remained as base as ever. 
 
 But though men no longer endeavor to 
 manufacture gold, they still try to manu- 
 facture goodness. The merit which is to 
 open heaven, the moral excellence which 
 is to render God propitious, the fine gold 
 of righteousness, they fancy that they can 
 themselves elaborate. As he passed along, 
 the apostle Paul sometimes saw these moral 
 alchymisls at work ; and as he observed 
 them so earnest for salvation — as he saw 
 them casting into the crucible prayers, and 
 alms, and tears, and fastings, and self-tor- 
 tures, he was moved with pity. He told 
 
40 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 them that depraved humanity was material 
 too base to yiehi the precious thing they 
 wanted. He told them that they were 
 spending their strength for naught ; and that 
 the merit which they were so eai:;er to cre- 
 ate exists already. He told them that if 
 they would only avail themselves of it, they 
 might obtain, without restriction, the right- 
 eousness of a Divine Redeemer. "I pray 
 that you may be saved ; I sympathize with 
 your anxiety ; I love your earnest zeal, 
 while I deplore your deadly error. But 
 ignorant of the righteousness which God 
 has already provided, and going about to 
 establish a righteousness of your own, you 
 are missino- tlie trreat masjazine of merit — 
 the great repository of righteousness — Je- 
 sus Christ. You need not scale the heav- 
 ens to bring righteousness down ; you netid 
 not dive into the deep in order to fetch it up ; 
 you need not watch, and toil, and do pen- 
 ance, in order to create it ; for it exists al- 
 ready there. God has made his own dear 
 Son the sinner's righteousness, and in the 
 
THE SHIP OF HEAVEN. 41 
 
 gospel offers him to all. The gift is nigh 
 thee. It is at thy door ; it is in thy hand. 
 Receive it, and be righteous ; receive it, 
 and rejoice."* And so, dear reader, if you 
 are anxious for peace with God, accept 
 God's own ^ift — the peace-procuring right- 
 eousness. Present, as your only plea with 
 a holy God, the atonement of his Son ; de- 
 spair of brinuing merit out of vileness, or 
 sanctity out of sin. With Luther, " learn 
 to know Christ crucified ; learn to sing a 
 new song. Renouncing your own work, 
 cry to Him, Lord, thou art my righteous- 
 ness, and I am thy sin. Thou hast taken 
 on thee what was mine, and given to me 
 what was thine ; what thou was not, thou 
 becamest, that I might become what I was 
 not." 
 
 But among the other precious commodi- 
 ties purchased by the Friend of Sinners, 
 and floated to our world in that compre- 
 hensive ark, his gospel, we must notice a 
 
 PEACEFUL CONSCIENCE and A CONTENTED 
 * Rom. X. 1-12 ; 1 Cor. i. 30 ; 2 Cor. v. 21. 
 
 4* 
 
42 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 MIND. Should this be read by any one 
 who has lately committed a crime, or by 
 one who has newly discovered the holiness 
 of God and the plague of his own heart, 
 that reader knows the horrors of a troubled 
 conscience. And no man can make it 
 happy. We might put it in a palace. We 
 might promote it to tread ankle-deep on 
 obsequious carpets, or embosom it in balm 
 and down. We might bid Araby breathe 
 over it, and Golconda glitter round it. We 
 might encircle it with clouds of hovering 
 satellites, and put upon its head the wish- 
 ing-cap of endless wealth. But if we have 
 not taken the barb from its memory, the 
 festered wound from the spirit — the pale 
 foreboding, the frequent gloom, tlie startled 
 slumber, will pronounce these splendors 
 mockery, and all this luxury a glittering 
 lie. 
 
 And even where there is not this sharp 
 anguish, there is in the worldling's spirit a 
 secret wretchedness, and a prevailing dis- 
 content. He longs for something, he 
 
THE SHIP OF HEAVEN. 43 
 
 scarce knows what; and this dim craving 
 degenerates to a depraved voracity. He 
 feeds on husks and ashes, or even poison- 
 ous fruits. He tries to feast his soul with 
 fame and glory, or satiates it with sensual 
 joys and voluptuous revelries. But from 
 the visionary banquet he wakens up, and 
 still his soul hath appetite ; or recovered 
 from the drunken orgy, he recognises in 
 his besotted self a fiend imprisoned — his 
 guilty soul the demon, and his embruted 
 frame the dungeon. And be the diversion 
 what it may, nothing will make a godless 
 spirit truly happy. Get an unexpected for- 
 tune, and rise to sudden grandeur; lounge 
 away your mornings in sumptuous club- 
 rooms, and flutter out your evenings at 
 balls, and plays, and operas ; roam through 
 continental vineyards or over northern 
 moors ; dawdle the long day in Brighton 
 newsrooms, or trip it on Ramsgate pier ; 
 gallop over Ascot, or yacht it round the 
 Needles ; and from each famed resort and 
 costly recreation, the lover of pleasure must 
 
44 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 Still bring back a hollow heart and a hun- 
 gry soul. 
 
 But tarry where you are — continue in 
 your present toilsome calliiig ; and pray 
 that prayer, " There be many that say, 
 Who will show us any good? Lord, lift 
 thou up the light of thy countenance upon 
 us, and put gladness in our heart, more 
 than when corn and wine increase." Learn, 
 that for Christ's sake God is reconciled to 
 you, and life will wear another aspect. You 
 will be like the primitive believers, after 
 they received the remission of their sins. 
 You will eat your meat witli gladness, 
 praising God. The same fir table is still 
 your daily board, and from a homely trench- 
 er you still despatch your frugal meal. 
 Work is still wearing, and winters are still 
 severe, and still there will come hard times 
 and heavy trials. But with heavenly en- 
 tertainment at each repast, and a divine 
 assurance deep in all your soul ; in cove- 
 nant with the beasts of the earth, and in 
 league with the stones of the fiel J, you will 
 
THE SHIP OF HEAVEN. 45 
 
 pass, a cheerful pilgrim, through a smiling 
 universe, and enjoy on earth your first of 
 heaven. 
 
 And if you ask, which package in the 
 freight, which passage in the book, con- 
 tains this priceless blessing, there are many 
 which only need to be opened in order^to 
 obtain it. " Come now, and let us reason 
 together, saith the Lord : Though your 
 sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as 
 snow ; though they be red like crimson, 
 they shall be as wool." — " God is in Christ 
 reconciling the world unto himself, not im- 
 puting their trespasses unto them ; and hath 
 committed unto us the word of reconcilia- 
 tion. Now, then, we are embassadors for 
 Christ, as though God did beseech you by 
 us: we pray you, in Christ's stead, be ye 
 reconciled to God. For he halh made him 
 to be sin for us, who knew no sin ; that we 
 might be made the righteousness of God in 
 him." — *' This is the record, that God hath 
 given to us eternal life, and this life is in 
 his Son. He that hath the Son hath life." 
 
46 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 " There is no condemnation to them who 
 are in Christ Jesus."* Here is the am 
 nesty, and you, my dear reader, are invited 
 to accept it. So far as you are concerned, 
 nothing lies nearer the heart of Jehovah 
 than your return to his fatherly bosom ; and 
 for this very purpose he has sent you the 
 conditions of peace. These conditions 
 have already been fulfilled by l)is own dear 
 Son as the sinner's representative, and to 
 that red handwriting you have only to coun- 
 tersign your consenting name. And no 
 sooner do you thus fall in with God's way 
 of saving sinners, than his beaming eye 
 pronounces over you the benison which on 
 earth Jesus so rejoiced to utter, " Go in 
 peace : thy sins, which are many, be for- 
 given thee." 
 
 Nor must we forget that possession as 
 precious as it is unique, the New Heart. 
 *' A new heart also will I give you, and a 
 new spirit will I put within you ; and I will 
 take away the stony heart out of your flesh, 
 •Is.i. 18; 2Cor.v. 19-21; iJohnv. 11,12; Rom.viii. 1. 
 
THE SHIP OF HEAVEN. 47 
 
 and I will give you a heart of flesh. And 
 I will put my spirit within you, and will 
 cause you to walk in my statutes, and ye 
 shall keep my judgments and do them." 
 Wlienever a man believes the gospel, God 
 gives him a loving, trustful, and obedient 
 heart; and what was formerly irksome or 
 odious, becomes to his altered views and 
 feelings attractive and easy. The Lord not 
 only delivers him from the slavery of sin, 
 and transfers him into his own family, but 
 gives him the cordial feelings and affec- 
 tionate instincts of a son. And along with 
 this, everything is changed. The great 
 commandment, " Thou shalt love the 
 Lord thy God with all thy soul," is no 
 longer a flagrant extravagance but a gra- 
 cious privilege, and the thankful spirit an- 
 swers, " O Lord, thou art the strength of 
 my iieart, and my portion for ever." Prayer 
 IS no longer an infliction but an opportu- 
 nity, and the sanctuary, from a prison or 
 lock-Lip, is transformed into a happy home- 
 stead and endeared resort; while the sab- 
 
48 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 bath, once so dull or so dissipated, smiles 
 upon him in hallowed and delightful re- 
 turns. His relation to the vSavionr gives a 
 new look to the holy law ; and, receiving 
 from the hand of a pardoning God, those 
 requirements which he' used to receive 
 from a threatening Judge, the duties which 
 frowned with prohibition, and coerced by 
 penalties, become propitious and inviting. 
 The prickly precept — " The soul that sin- 
 neth, it shall die" — the Saviour has depri- 
 ved of its thorn, and along with Sharon's 
 rose, and blending their fragrance together, 
 he gives it to each disciple, that he may 
 wear it in his bosom. And the harsh and 
 hispid law — the command, which, like the 
 loaf still latent in the bearded corn, is in- 
 sipid and repulsive in the shape of dry mor- 
 ality — he has relieved from its choking 
 awns and encumbering chaff; and, sweet- 
 ened with beatitude, it tastes like sacra- 
 mental bread, while he himself says over it, 
 *' Eat, O friend ; yea, feast abundantly, O 
 beloved.'* And as it was to his elder 
 
THE SHIP OF HEATEN. 
 
 49 
 
 Brother, it becomes to the adopted child 
 of God like meat and drink, to do the will 
 of his Father who i> in heaven. 
 
 But, over and above its golden treasures 
 and rich commodities, this vessel biinocs 
 some RARE EXOTICS. Perfect only in that 
 better land, there is a skilful Cultivator,* 
 who even in these cold climes has cher- 
 ished and carrier! through some^ glorious 
 specimens. With snowy petals, and drench- 
 ing all around in contagious sweetness, 
 blooms that lily of our valley, Christian 
 Love; and beside it, with ruby hlos>om, 
 courting all the radiant firmament, holy Joy 
 may be recognised. By its silken stem 
 and subde branchlets, hidin^i its florets from 
 blustry weather in a pavilion of its own, 
 Peace may be identified ; while near it, 
 Long-suffering strikes its bleeding fibres 
 deeper, and with balm requites the hand 
 that wounds it. As if from one source 
 springing, Gentleness and Kindness twine 
 together ; while Faith, erect and heaven- 
 Gal. V. 22 ; John xv. 26. 
 5 
 
50 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 pointing, bears them each aloft. Scarce 
 opening its modest eye, but bewraying its 
 presence in the scented air, Meekness nes- 
 tles in the mossy turf; and Temperance 
 reveals in its healthy hue the tonic hidden 
 in its root. These flowers of Paradise are 
 sent to grace the Christian and cheer his 
 friends; and it matters not whether they 
 adorn the pent-up attic or the rural man- 
 sion — the spiritual mind is their true con- 
 servatory. Man's first home was a gar- 
 den, and the race seems to inherit the love 
 of those gentle shapes and glorious tints 
 which were his silent comrades in Eden ; 
 and wandering through the sultry streets on 
 days like these, it moves a pensive smile 
 to see in many a window the dusty shrub 
 or the empty flower-pot — a memento of 
 scenes which can never be revisited, and a 
 protest for rural joys which must not be 
 tasted again. But those exotics which we 
 have just enumerated, are independent of 
 atmosphere and latitude ; and some of the 
 most splendid specimens have been oher- 
 
THE SHIP OF HEAVEN. 51 
 
 ished in workshops and cellars, amid the 
 dust of factories, the smoke of cities, and 
 in the depths of airless mines. " Love, 
 joy, peace, lono-siifFering, gentleness, good- 
 ness, faith, meekness, temperance," — these 
 are the brightest beauties and the most fra- 
 grant ornaments of any dwelling. Pray 
 that the vSpirit of God would transfer them 
 from the Bible to your character, and that 
 he would tend and water them there. For 
 should these graces flourish, the frost upon 
 the fields, and the snow-flakes on the gale, 
 will never touch the fadeless summer of 
 your soul. 
 
 And, to notice nothing more, we must 
 mention, as included in this cosdy consign- 
 ment, THE TITLE-DEEDS TO A GREAT 
 
 INHERITANCE. Before he left the world, 
 the Lord Jesus said to his disciples, "In 
 my Father's house are many mansions. 
 I go to prepare a place for you." And 
 the Bible gives us some hints, that we 
 may know what sort of mansion it is. Sin 
 and sorrow never enter it. Its inhabitant 
 
52 THE HAPPT HOME. 
 
 never says, I am sick. And from his eyes 
 God has wiped all tears. No tempting 
 devil and no corrupting men come near it; 
 but all is holy and all is pure. Its sun 
 never sets, for a present Saviour is its con- 
 stant light; and its blessedness never jebbs, 
 for God himself is the fountain of its joy. 
 And there the redeemed of earth have for 
 their company the mighty intellects and 
 loving souls in glory. And all this the 
 Saviour has purchased for his people ; and 
 all this, happy reader, will be yours if you 
 belong- to Jesus. Like the expiring negro, 
 when a friend exclaimed, " PoorPompey!" 
 and he answered, " Me no poor any more, 
 me King Pompey now," I dare say that 
 you are poor, but I am sure that you are 
 rich. You are going where your present 
 rank will be no objection, and where your 
 earthly privations will only make the tran- 
 sition more ecstatic. And, oh, my friend ! 
 look forward and look up ! I wish I could 
 add to your present comforts; but I know 
 that if you had it, this blessed hope would 
 
THE SHIP OF HEAVEN. 53 
 
 often cheat your present miseries. One 
 windy afternoon I went with a friend into a 
 country almshouse. There was sitting be- 
 fore a feeble fire a very aged man ; and the 
 better to keep from his bald head the cold 
 gusts, he wore his hat : he was never likely 
 to need it out of doors. He was very deaf, 
 and so shaken with the palsy, that one 
 wooden shoe constantly pattered on the 
 brick floor. But, deaf, and sick, and 
 helpless, it turned out that he was happy. 
 *' What are you doing, Wisby?" said my 
 friend. " Waiting, sir." " And for what ?" 
 "For the appearing of my Lord." "And 
 what makes you wish for his appearing ?" 
 " Because, sir, T expect great things then. 
 He has promised a crown of righteousness 
 to all that love his appearing." And, to 
 see whether it was a right foundation on 
 which he rested that glorious hope, we 
 asked old Wisby what it was. By degrees 
 he got on his spectacles, and opening the 
 great Bible beside him, pointed to that text, 
 *' Therefore, being justified by faith, we 
 5* 
 
54 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 have peace with God through our Lord 
 Jesus Christ: by whom also we have ac- 
 cess by faith iuto tliis i^race wherein we 
 stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of 
 God."* And, dear reader, the God of 
 grace puts that blessedness within your 
 offer. Embrace it, and you will be the 
 happy man " to whom death is welcome, 
 while life is sweet." 
 
 " When I can read my title clear 
 
 To mansions in the skies, 
 I bid farewell to every fear, 
 
 And wipe my weeping eyes." 
 
 And now, kind reader, have you under- 
 stood these things? Over a few sentences 
 of this address, I have cast a thin veil of 
 metaphor; — but I shall be very sorry if it 
 has obscured my meaning; for even in 
 these humble pages, there are truths which, 
 if you believe and embrace, you need envy 
 no man's millions, and many a wealthy 
 worldling is poor compared with you. 
 
 The thing which I have been most 
 anxious to show, is the kind tone in which 
 * Rom. V. 1, 2. 
 
THE SHIP OF HEAVEN. 55 
 
 the Saviour speaks to you, and the boons 
 which, in the Bible, he transmits to you. 
 Judging by some sermons and tracts, you 
 might fancy that the Bible is a severe and 
 angry book — or, at the very best, that it is a 
 book of good advices. This is a mistake. 
 The Bible has many a solemn passage, and 
 it abounds in good advices; but you miss 
 the very best of it if you think that this is 
 all. I shall suppose that a young man has 
 left his home in Scotland or the north of 
 England. He comes to this great London, 
 and in a little while falls in with its worst 
 ways. In the theatre, and the tea-garden, 
 and the tavern parlor, he spends all his 
 money, and gets deep in debt ; and then 
 he turns ill, and is taken to the hospital ; 
 and when there, he begins to bethink him 
 of his foolishness : *' I wish I once were 
 well again. I wish I once were home 
 again. But 'tis no use wishing. I know 
 that my father's door is shut : they would 
 not take me in ; and if once I were 
 able to creep about, they would have me 
 
66 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 up for (If'bt. It would just be out of tlie 
 hospital into the jail." And, while be- 
 rnojining his misery, a letter comes from his 
 father, telling him tliiit he has heard of his 
 wretcherl plii^ht, and remindin;^ him of the 
 past, and all he had done for his wayward 
 child ; and, glancing his eye over it, the sick 
 youth crumples it up and crams it away un- 
 der his pillow. And by-and-by a comrade 
 comes in, and among other things the invalid 
 tells him, " And here is a letter of good 
 advice just cou)e from my father ;" and that 
 other runs his eye over it: "Good advice, 
 did you say? I think you should raliier 
 have said good news. Don't yoti see, he 
 makes you welcome home again ? and in 
 order that you may settle your accounts, 
 and return in peace and comfort, he has 
 appended this draft for twenty pounds." 
 Most people read the Bible carelessly, or 
 with a guilty conscience for the interpreter, 
 and they notice in it nothing but reproofs 
 and good advice. They miss the main 
 thing there. The gospel is good news. 
 
THE SHIP OF HKAVEN. 57 
 
 It tells us that God is love, and announces 
 to every reader that the door of the Father's 
 house Is open, and that this very night he 
 may find a blessed home in the bosom of 
 his God. And as we have all incurred a 
 debt to Divine justice, which, throughout 
 eternity, we could never pay — and as it 
 needs a righteousness to recommend us to 
 the favor of a holy God — in every Bible 
 there is enclosed a draft on the Saviour's 
 merit, to which the sinner has only to sign 
 his believing name, and the great salvation 
 is his own. By exhibiting the cross of 
 Christ — by directing to that precious blood 
 which cleanses from all sin — and by pre- 
 senting a perfect righteousness to every 
 awakened conscience — the Bible comes a 
 benefactor and a friend in need. And 
 when rightly understood, the angelic an- 
 them — " Glory to God in the highest; on 
 earth peace ; good-will toward man" — is 
 the cheerful but stately tune to which the 
 gospel goes, and to which in heaven itself 
 they sing it. 
 
58 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 And, reader, try to catch that tune. Pray 
 that God would this very nii^ht, by his own 
 Spirit, teach it to you. Fear not to believe 
 too soon, nor to rejoice in Christ Jesus too 
 much. Let the love of God your Saviour 
 tide into all your soul, and, as it makes 
 your feelings happy, so will it make your 
 dispositions new. Peace and joy will keep 
 you from some sins, gratitude and loyalty 
 will preserve you from the rest. No cheer- 
 ful glass will be needed to raise your spir- 
 its then ; for a soul exulting in the great 
 salvation forgets its poverty, and remem- 
 bers its misery no more. No sinful lust 
 nor forbidden joy will enthral you then ; for 
 you will have discovered deeper and purer 
 pleasures. And there will be no fear of 
 your growling and cursing through your 
 daily task, or filling with consternation your 
 cowering family ; for the peace of God will 
 make you pacific, and scattering on every 
 side kind looks and friendly feelings, you 
 will come and go a sunshine in the shop, a 
 firelight in the home. 
 
THE SHIP OF HEAVEN. 59 
 
 No : do not sit so sullenly. I am a 
 stranger, but it is the truth of God I tell. 
 In all your life you may never have got a 
 costly gift ; but here, at last, is one. It is 
 the gift of God, and therefore it is a gift 
 unspeakable ; but, accepted as cordially as 
 it is graciously offered, it will make you 
 blessed now, and rich for all eternity. Oh, 
 my dear friend, do not eye it so coldly ; 
 suffer it not so tamely to pass away. This 
 night has brought you good news. It has 
 told you of the Saviour's cosdy purchase 
 and wondrous present. Let it also bring 
 good news to heaven ; let it tell that the 
 love of God has broken your heart, and 
 made you sorry and ashamed for all your 
 sins ; let it tell that with tears of thankful- 
 ness you have surveyed the " unsearchable 
 riches of Christ," and have given yourself 
 to Him who once gave himself for you ; let 
 it tell that your history has taken a new 
 turn, and that, breaking off from your worth- 
 less companions and evil ways, you have 
 begun in lowliness and love to follow Jesus. 
 
A BUNCH IN THE HAND, AND MORE 
 
 ON THR BUSH. 
 
 Not far from this London there dwelt an 
 old couple. In early life they had been 
 poor; but the husband became a Christian, 
 and God blessed their industry, and they 
 were living in a comfortable retirement, 
 when one day a stranger called on them to 
 ask their subscription to a charity. The 
 old lady had not so much grace as her hus- 
 band, and still hankered after some of the 
 sabbath earnings and easy shillings which 
 Thomas had forfeited from regard to the 
 law of God. And so when the visiter asked 
 their contribution, she interposed, and said, 
 " Why, sir, we have lost a deal by religion 
 since we first began ; my husband knows 
 that very well. Have we not, Thomas?" 
 And after a solemn pause Thomas an- 
 
CASPAR RAUCHBILDER 
 
 Page 182. 
 
A BUNCH IN THE HAND. 61 
 
 swered : " Yes, Mary, we have. I have lost 
 a deal by my religion. Before I had got reli- 
 gion, Mary, I had got a water-pail, in which 
 I used to carry water, and that, you know, I 
 have lost many years ago ; and then I had 
 an old slouched hat, a tattered coat, and 
 mended shoes and stockings ; but I have 
 lost them also long ago. And, Mary, you 
 know that, poor as I was, I had a habit of 
 getting drunk and quarreling with you ; and 
 that, you know, I have lost. And then I 
 had a burdened conscience and a wicked 
 heart, and ten thousand guilty fears ; but 
 all are lost, completely lost, and like a mill- 
 stone, cast into the ileepest sea. And, 
 Mary, you have been a loser too, though 
 not so great a loser as myself. Before we 
 got religion, Mary, you had got a washing- 
 tray, in which you washed for hire ; but 
 since we got religion, you have lost your 
 washing-tray. And you had a gown and a 
 bonnet much the worse for wear, though 
 they were all you had to wear ; but you 
 have lost them long ago. And you had 
 6 
 
62 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 many an achins^ heart concerning me at 
 times ; but these you happily have lost. 
 And I conld even wish that you had lost 
 as much as I have lost ; for what we lose 
 by our religion will be our everlasting gain." 
 
 There are instances where religion has 
 required a sacrifice ; but so far as our own 
 observation goes, it .has blessed its posses- 
 sors, not only by what it imparted, but also 
 by what it took away. Their chief losses 
 may be compriseH in the following items : — 
 
 A bad character ; 
 
 A guilty conscience ; 
 
 A troublesome temper; 
 
 Sundry evil habits, 
 
 And all their wicked companions. 
 
 And then, on the other side, over and 
 above all the higher benefits which the gos- 
 pel bestows, and which, in our last paper, 
 we tried to enumerate, its advent into the 
 poor man's home is usually signalized by 
 some immediate and obvious blessings. We 
 allow that they are secondary, but they are 
 not insignificant. Let us glance at some 
 
A BtTNCH IN THE HAND. 63 
 
 of tliem. Like the bunch which the spies 
 fetched from Eshcol, they may give some 
 notion of the goodly land ; but they are 
 only a sample, and the true wisdom is to 
 go up and possess the region itself, and then 
 you will gather the grapes where they grow, 
 and when one cluster is finished, you will 
 find still better on the tree. 
 
 1. Religion is forethought and fru- 
 gality. The disciple of Jesus is well 
 off — his fortune is made, and he does not 
 need to set his heart on filthy lucre. But 
 then he is high-hearted — he is of his Mas- 
 ter's mind, " It is more blessed to give than 
 to receive." He would rather be an almo- 
 ner than a pensioner ; and he is anxious 
 to lay a good foundation for age as well as 
 for infirmity. And he " provides for his 
 own house." He would fain contribute to 
 the commonwealth one independent and 
 self-sustaining family. And the foresight 
 and self-denial which he has learned at the 
 feet of Jesus, put these achievements in 
 his power. You may see the thing in liv- 
 
64 THE itAPPT HOME. 
 
 ing specimens. Take, for instance, these 
 shoptnates, Dick Raspiron and Tom Tin- 
 kleton. Perhaps you know them ; at all 
 events, in their employment as whitesmiths 
 they have made some noise in the world. 
 Tom once of a sudden took it into his head 
 to marry ; and as he had a few shillings to 
 pay the fees, he made it out; but before 
 the honeymoon was ended, the bride had 
 to pawn her wedding-gown to buy next 
 Sunday's dinner. And Dick also fell in 
 love; but his sweetheart and himself agreed 
 that they would wait till they had made up 
 twenty pounds between them. Last Satur- 
 day Tom did not take home his wages till 
 after midnight, and then he did not take 
 the whole ; and next morning his wife went 
 out and bought some flabby meat and with- 
 ered greens, and paid the Sunday trader 
 ten per cent, additional ; but that was bet- 
 ter management than the time before, for 
 then he brought nothing home at all ; and 
 in order to procure a steak, they had first 
 to sell their frying-pan. But now that at 
 
A BTJNCH IN THE HAND. 65 
 
 last he has married his notable little wife, 
 Dick hies fiome as fast as he can on Satur- 
 day evening, sure that the earnings of last 
 week have made the marketings of this one, 
 and that he will find the room so tidy and 
 the tea-things set out, and that afterward 
 they will have a turn in the park, or, should 
 it chance to rain, an hour for reading some 
 useful book. At an immemorial period his 
 shopmate "fell behind;" that is, in a cer- 
 tain race, the consumer of pies and porter 
 outran the producer of water-pails and me- 
 tallic chimney-pots ; and the shillings which 
 he got from his employer could not keep 
 up with the half-crowns which he spent on 
 himself. And ever since the luckless day 
 when the Spender distanced the Winner, 
 it has been a perpetual scramble. For want 
 of ready cash — and credit they never 
 had — his hungry household subsists on ac- 
 cidental and precarious meals ; and bought 
 in paltry shops, and in the smallest quan- 
 tities, their greatest bargain is a stinted pen- 
 nyworth. Richard read in his Bible, " Owe 
 6* 
 
66 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 no man anything;" and, in order to make 
 sure, he thoui^ln it best to have always 
 something to spare. At the very outset he 
 bade the Winner " march," while he held 
 the Spender by the heel, and would not let 
 him stir a single step till the other was far 
 ahead. And now he begins to find the ad- 
 vantage of this early self-denial. From 
 having a little money at command, he has 
 never on an emergency required to borrow 
 at a ruinous usury, and he has been able 
 to pick up at a trifling cost a clock and a 
 bookcase, and a chest of drawers, when 
 they happened to be going cheap. And he 
 has discovered that sovereigns are, in their 
 habits, somewhat gregarious ; if, like rats, 
 they run away from a tottering house, like 
 storks and starlings they are ready to come 
 and colonize wherever one of their species 
 reports a kind reception. And accordingly, 
 with litde exertion, without pinching or 
 scraping, or any shabby expedients, he finds 
 the little store quiedy increasing. And now 
 it is whispered in the street, that he either 
 
A BUNCH IN THE HAND. 67 
 
 means to lease or buy the house in which 
 he has been heretofore a lodger ; while du- 
 ring the year his neighbor has effected three 
 removals. And curious observers have no- 
 ted that each of these removals is less ex- 
 pensive than its predecessor ; and it is likely 
 that the next may cost nothing, as at the 
 present rate tliey will then be able to carry 
 on their backs all their remaining goods and 
 chattels. 
 
 In providing for one's own house, per- 
 haps the best plan is mutual insurance. In 
 many provident societies the premiums 
 have been calculated too low ; but in some 
 recently established, such as the "Christian 
 Mutual Provident Society," a scale of pay- 
 ments has been adopted, which effectually 
 secures against all risk. I shall suppose 
 that the reader is a healthy man, and twen- 
 ty-five years of age. Would he like to se- 
 cure ten shillings a week, during every term 
 of sickness, for the next forty years? He 
 may secure it by paying 1.9. 4:^d, a month, 
 or a halfpenny every day. Or would he 
 
THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 like to retire from hard work at the end of 
 these forty years? By paying 2s. 'Sd. 
 monthly, or less than a penny daily, he may 
 buy against that period a pension of 65. 
 weekly. Or would he prefer leaving to his 
 survivors, at whatever time it may please 
 God to call him away, a sum of solid mo- 
 ney? For such a purpose he may secure 
 100/. by paying Ss. 5d. a month, or 21. a 
 year. Or, if he dislikes insurance, he may 
 try the savings' bank, and there the daily pen- 
 ny would mount up to 50/. in thirty years. 
 
 But how is a working man to manao^e 
 this? How is he to spare the daily penny 
 from his scanty earnings ? I fear some can 
 not; but I know that many can. Do you 
 smoke, or snuff, or chew tobacco ? Then 
 please to count how much this costs you in 
 a week, and how much in the fifty-two 
 weeks which make a year. And how much 
 do you pay for stimulating liquor ? A friend 
 reminds me that a moderate pint of beer 
 comes to 3/. per annum, or 30/. in ten years. 
 And how do you dispose of your loose half- 
 
A BUNCH IN THE HAND. 
 
 pence ? And bow much do you spend in 
 Sunday excursions, and fairs, and treats, and 
 merry-makings ? Not very much on any 
 one occasion, but enough from time to time 
 to make at last a fortune. For it is not by 
 surprising windfalls, but by systematic sa- 
 vings — by the resolute repetition of Jane 
 Taylor's golden maxim, " I can do without 
 it," — that men have made the most solid for- 
 tunes, the fullest of satisfaction to the 
 founder, and the most enduring. And 
 were you only commencing now to save up 
 the coppers which you have hitherto squan- 
 dered at the pastrycook's or the fruiterer's 
 stall, and the sixpences which you would 
 have melted in beer or burned in tobacco, 
 they will soon swell up to a pound ; and by 
 perseverance and the blessing of God, that 
 pound may grow to a competency.* 
 
 * We would cordially recommend to our readers on 
 this and kindred subjects. Chambers' Penny Tract, No. 
 170, " Hints to Workmen." After the above paragraphs 
 were written, a friend in the west of England was kind 
 enough to show us over his factory. It abounded in 
 contrivances and processes which we had never seen 
 before; but the sight which interested us beyond all 
 
70 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 2. Religion insure? sobriety. Is it 
 not fearful that Britain spends on intoxi- 
 cating liquors fifty millions every year? 
 We often complain of our high taxation, 
 and sometimes grow nervous at the national 
 debt. But here is a tax for which we can- 
 not blame our rulers ; a tax self-imposed 
 and self-levied ; a tax for which we can only 
 blame ourselves ; a tax which would pay the 
 interest of our national debt twice over ; 
 and a tax as large as the entire revenue of 
 these United Kingdoms. We thought it a 
 great sum to pay in order to give the slave 
 his freedom ; we thought the twenty mil- 
 lions given to the West India proprietors 
 
 these was a picture-gallery of industrious veterans. In 
 his counting-room the warm-hearted proprietor had sus- 
 pended, large as Hfe, tlie portraits of five faithful ser- 
 vants, who had each spent about half a century in these 
 works. I need not say that thev had been all sober 
 men. It was a ru!e of the estai)lishment, that no one 
 employed at it should ever enter a public-house. But 
 most of these venerable worthies had been pious men ; 
 and, pointing to one of the likenesses, my friend men- 
 tioned, " That old man was worth fifteen hundred 
 pounds when he died." He wns a common worker with 
 ordinary wages ; but he realized enough to provide a com- 
 fortable independence for two nieces who survive him. 
 
A BUNCH IN THE HAND. 71 
 
 a mighty sacrifice ; and certainly it was the 
 noblest tribiue any nation ever paid to the 
 cause of philanthropy : but, large as it looks, 
 half a year of national abstinence would 
 have paid it all. Some grudge the eight 
 millions which Ireland lately got, seeing it 
 failed to set our neighbors on their feet; — 
 but it was eight millions given to save a 
 famishing people; and large as the grant to 
 Ireland sounds, two months of national ab- 
 stinence would have paid the whole of it. 
 But, tremendous as are the fifty millions 
 which, as a people, we yearly ingulf in 
 strong drink, the thought which afflicts and 
 appals us is that this terrible impost is 
 mainly a tax on the working man. The 
 lamentation is that many an industrious man 
 will spend in liquor as much money as, had 
 he saved it, would this year have furnished 
 a room, and next year would have bought 
 a beautiful library; — as much money as 
 would secure a splendid education for 
 every child, or in the course of a few years 
 would have made him a landlord instead 
 
72 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 of a tenant. Why, my friends, it would 
 set our blood a-boiling if we heard that the 
 Turkis^h sultan taxed his subjects in the 
 style that our British workmen tax them- 
 selves. It would bring the days of Wat 
 Tyler back attain — nay, it would create 
 another Hampden, and oonjure up a second 
 Cromwell — did the exchequer try to raise 
 the impost which our publicans levy, and 
 our laborers and artisans cheerfully pay. 
 But is it not a fearful infatuation? Is it 
 not our national madness to spend so much 
 wealth in shattering our nerves, and ex- 
 ploding our characters, and ruininu our 
 souls? Many workmen, T lejoice to know, 
 have been reclaimed by teetoialism, and 
 many have been preserved by timely reli- 
 gion. In whatever way a man is saved 
 from that horrible vice, which is at once 
 the destruction of the body and the damna- 
 tion of the soul, " therein I do rejoice, and 
 will rejoice." Only you can not be a 
 Christian without being also a sober man ; 
 and the more of God's grace you get, the 
 
A BUNCH IN THE HAND. 73 
 
 easier will you find it to vanquish this most 
 terrible of the working man's temptations. 
 
 3. Religion creates honesty, civility, 
 PUNCTUALITY, INDUSTRY, and those other 
 qualities which secure for the working man 
 popularity and promotion. And, whatever 
 theorists may propound to the contrary, 
 this is the way in which God himself has 
 arranged society. The steady and sober are 
 to rise and be respected, while the disso- 
 lute and disorderly must sink and disappear. 
 And though there is in many quarters a 
 prejudice against piety — though some in- 
 fidel and irreligious employers prefer work- 
 men with easy principles and pliant con- 
 sciences — no business can long prosper 
 without probity, and no employer can be- 
 come permanently rich with ruffians or 
 rogues for his servants. Hence, in all ex- 
 tensive and protracted undertakings, prin- 
 ciple will undoubtedly win for itself an 
 eventual preference ; aud the workman who 
 understands his trade and keeps his char- 
 acter, may expect to retain his place. The 
 7 
 
74 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 kins: of Babylon had no llkino^ for Daniel's 
 reliii^ion ; but then, Daniel was the only 
 man who could manage the hundred prov- 
 inces. And the king of Egypt would have 
 preferred Joseph's finance and Joseph's 
 forethought without Joseph's piety ; but, as 
 he could not get the one without the other, 
 he put up with the Hebrew's faith for the 
 sake of the statesman's policy. And in the 
 same way, if you carry Bible rules into 
 your conduct, the Lord himself will under- 
 take your case, and people will find out 
 that it is good to have the like of you 
 around them. If you will not work on 
 Sunday, neither will you be tipsy or a-miss- 
 ing on Monday. If you won't tell a false- 
 hood for your employer, neither will you 
 waste his materials nor pilfer his property. 
 And if you are not a sycophant in the 
 slackest times, you will not be saucy in the 
 busiest ; but, seeking first to please your 
 Master in heaven, you will find yourself 
 rewarded with the good will and confidence 
 of your superiors on earth. 
 
A BUNCH IN THE HAND. 75 
 
 Richard Williams attended the Horshay 
 iron works, in Shropshire. From the time 
 that he found the forgiveness of his sins at 
 the foot of the cross, he became a delight- 
 ful neighbor and a most diligent workman. 
 He was a methodist, and his master a qua- 
 ker; and seeing Richard's conscientious- 
 ness, Mr. Reynolds promoted him to be 
 one of his superintendents — an office which 
 he held with growing honor all his life. 
 One secret of Richard's promotion, and 
 one reason why whatsoever he did pros- 
 pered well, was his prayerfulness. God 
 was his heavenly Father, and therefore he 
 besought his blessing on his common toils ; 
 and I think you will be interested to read 
 the two following letters to a friend : — 
 
 " I am much better in health to-day, but 
 am in some difficulty as to our works. We 
 are ' setting on' the other furnace, and it 
 goes off very stubbornly. It requires a 
 deal of care and hard work to get it right ; 
 and will require much more, unless a speedy 
 turn takes place in our favor. Continue, 
 
76 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 therefore, to pray for us. I know your 
 prayers will do more than all we can do 
 with our strong bars and great hammt^rs. 
 Do not, therefore, forget us at the throne 
 of the heavenly grace." 
 
 Again : — 
 
 *' We are engaged in difficult work, and 
 are desirous of getting it over before sab- 
 bath. I pray the Lord that we may suc- 
 ceed. The expenses of the works to Mr. 
 Reynolds are at present very great, and the 
 profits none. I am employed all night and 
 a part of the day ; but I heartily thank God 
 for his kind care over me, and hope he will 
 preserve us all. Very earnestly do I wish 
 that we may get it done, that we all may 
 have the sabbath free from labor for the 
 purposes of religion." 
 
 And his love of the sabbath and his per- 
 sonal consistency were at last rewarded, by 
 seeing every furnace stopped on the first 
 day of the week. On a subject so near his 
 heart, he ventured a respectful representa- 
 tion to the proprietor — a representation 
 
A BUNCH IN THK HAND. 77 
 
 which derived such weight from Richard's 
 worth and modesty, that, notwithstanding 
 the pecuniary hazard, an experiment was 
 permitted: it proved successful; and these 
 sabbatic furnaces are a noble monument to 
 a conscientious working man. 
 
 The truth is, that God's blessins^ attends 
 his people in their common calling. If 
 they commit their way to him, he bring-^ 
 it to pass. He opens doors. He finds 
 for them friends and favor. He smooths 
 down difficulties, and gives their earnings 
 reproductive value. You have likely heard 
 of Thomas Mann, the London waterman 
 Besides large sums given in his life to poor 
 acquaintances, he left to different societies 
 nearly two thousand pounds. And how 
 did he make it ? God gave it to him. 
 God gave him great faith in his own word 
 and promises — a devout and God-fearing 
 mind ; and these developed in politeness 
 and honesty, punctuality and diligence. 
 People who once used his boat were so 
 taken with its owner, that if they could get 
 7* 
 
78 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 him again, they would bail no other ; and 
 having won a friend, lie was so attentive 
 and exact that he never lost hinn again ; 
 and though he never plied on the Sabbath, 
 and never pocketed a shilling beyond the 
 proper fare, and was always giving money 
 away, it seemed as if he could not grow 
 poor. Always sober, always cheerful, and 
 usually the first on the water, the Lord 
 smiled on his pious industry; and, amid nil 
 his prosperity, the Lord kept him humble 
 and generous, to show us that if a man has 
 already got heaven in his heart, a luuulful 
 of money will not make him a miser. 
 
 4. Religion is REFINEMENT. It expands 
 the mind of its possessor, and purifies his 
 taste. It is a great mistake to confound 
 riches and refinement, just as it is a great 
 mistake to fancy that because a man is poor, 
 he must be coarse and vulgar. Lord Jef- 
 feries, though seated on the highest tribunal 
 in the realm, while pouring forth his brutal 
 ribaldry, was a vulgar man ; and a very 
 vulgar man was Chancellor Thurlow, sport- 
 
A BUNCH IN THE HAND. 79 
 
 ing oaths and obscenity at the table of the 
 prince of Wales. But there was no vul- 
 garity about James Ferguson, though herd- 
 ing sheep, while his eye watched Arcturus 
 and the Pleiades, and his wistful spirit 
 wandered through immensity; and, though 
 seated at a stocking-loom, there was no 
 vulgarity in the youth who penned the 
 *' Star of Bethleliem ;" the weaver-boy, 
 Henry Kirke White, was not a vulgar lad. 
 Aud so, my respected friends, if you sur- 
 render your minds to the teaching of God's 
 word and Spirit, they will receive the 
 truest, deepest refinement. There may be 
 nothing in your movements to indicate the 
 training of the dancing-school, nor any- 
 thing in your elocution which speaks of 
 courtly circles or smooth society ; but there 
 will be an elevation in your tastes, and a 
 purity in your feelings, as of men accus- 
 tomed to the society of the King of kings. 
 You will have a relish for a higher litera- 
 ture than the halfpenny ballad or the Sun- 
 day news, and for a more improving inter- 
 
80 THE HAPPY HOME 
 
 course than the tap or the club room can 
 supply. And though you may not have at 
 easy command the phrases of politeness, 
 the most polished, if they but be the chil- 
 dren of God, will have sentiments and lan- 
 guage In common with you, and a stronger 
 affinity for you than for the most fine-spoken 
 impiety. And In your respectful demea- 
 nor to those above you, and In your kind 
 and civil carriage to those around you, men 
 will see that you have learned your man- 
 ners from the book which says, " Be cour- 
 teous," and which supplies the finest model 
 of gentility. The religion which is at last 
 to lift the beggar from the dunghill, and 
 set him with nobles of the earth, will even 
 now give the toiling man the elevated aims, 
 the enlarged capacity, the lofty tastes, and 
 nanly bearing, which princes have often 
 lacked ; for if vice be the worst vulgarity, 
 religion Is the best refinement. 
 
 5. Religion secures that priceless pos- 
 session — a HAPPY HOME. Six things are 
 requisite to create a home. Integrity must 
 
A BUNCH IN THE HAND. 81 
 
 be the architect, and Tidiness the uphols- 
 terer. It must be warmed by Affection, 
 and Hghted up with Cheerfulness; and In- 
 dustry must be the ventilator, renewing the 
 atmosphere, and bringing in fresh salubrity 
 day by day ; while over all, as a protecting 
 canopy and defending glory, nothing will 
 suffice except the blessing of God. 
 
 Dear reader, if you are in earnest your- 
 self, I hope it is your privilege to have a 
 pious partner. If not, " what knowest 
 thou, O man, but that by prayer and per- 
 suasion thou mayest gain thy wife ?" And 
 then all will work sweetly ; and with the 
 Bible to direct you, and helping one an- 
 other, yon may condense into your dwel- 
 ling, however narrow, all the happiness of 
 which this mortal state is susceptible. 
 
 In the north of England, and in the days 
 of haunted houses, a certain farm was in- 
 fested by a mischievous sprite. It skim- 
 med the milk, and soured the cream ; it 
 made the haystacks heat, and blasted the 
 cattle into skin and bone ; and besides 
 
82 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 friixliteninir the maid-servants, and tunnbUn^ 
 the rhil(h-en into the pond, it often raised 
 such a riot up among the rafters, that the 
 poor people were hroiigln to their wit<' 
 end, and resolved on leaving the place. 
 Everythinii: was packed, and the cavalcade 
 was in motion ; and they had proceeded so 
 far in their journey when a countryman met 
 the procession, and in amazement demand- 
 ed, " What's thee doing, neighbor Hodge?" 
 "We are flittinu:," shouted the farni'-r, 
 gruffly ; and from the depths of the wacjon 
 a shrill voice echoed, *' Yes, we are flit- 
 ting ;" and at the same moment one of the 
 youngsters screamed, " Oh, father, father, 
 Brownie's in the churn !" And finding 
 that their foe was as ready for the road as 
 themselves, the farmer turned the horse's 
 head, and went back to his old premises 
 with a look of woful resignation. And in 
 the course of my travels I have often en- 
 countered a Brownie's flitting. Beneath 
 the shadow of the Drachenfels, on Loch- 
 lomond's silvery tide, in the fluttering 
 
A BUNCH IN THE HAND. 
 
 Streets of Paris, and on the bright moun- 
 tains of Wales, I have many times fallen in 
 with a family party, evidently fleeing from 
 a haunted house. And having devoted 
 some attention to the subject, I find that 
 the mansions of tlie aristocracy are mainly 
 frequented by two evil spirits, called Indif- 
 ference and Ennui. They are dull de- 
 mons, both of them, quite different from 
 the vivacious Brownies of the farm and the 
 village : they raise no racket overhead ; but 
 being of phlegmatic mood and courtly habits, 
 they wear felt slippers and glide softly over 
 the polished floor. The one is an incubus 
 which dulls the heart, the other a torpedo 
 which benumbs the brain. Indifference or 
 Nonchalance (for both he and his cousin 
 Ennui are foreigners, and had French 
 names when they first came over) — Indif- 
 ference takes the zest from friendship, and 
 all the endearment out of closest kindred. 
 If he gets into the breakfast-parlor, my lady 
 and my lord have nothing to say to one an- 
 other, but my lord taKes alternate mouth- 
 
84 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 Alls of his muffin and the morning paper, 
 and my lady communes in silence with the 
 sugar-tongs ; and if he gets into tlie nursery, 
 the brothers and sisters there are blii^hted 
 into little lords and little ladies, with as 
 little love to one another as if they were 
 already old ; and if they love papa and 
 mamma, it is because they have learned 
 to connect them with the cake and fruit 
 which endear the moments after dinner. 
 And Ennui is an idle ghost, harboring un- 
 der ottomans and sofas, fond of a dressing- 
 gown, and delii;hting in breakfasts at mid- 
 day; and a most irksome ghost — a sort of 
 aerial cuttle, shedding inky gloom into the 
 atmosphere, and blackening the brightest 
 skies — a moral Remora,* frustrating ex- 
 istence, and leaving clever and accomplished 
 people without an object and without an 
 
 *The press-corrector has put a query at this word; 
 antl perhaps the reader wiA put another. It was a fish 
 which, in t'le time of Pliny, could stop a ship in full 
 sail. But, as it is no longer known to seamen, I sus- 
 pect, as hinted above, that it has exchanged the stormy 
 deep for our modern drawing-rooms. 
 
A BUNCH IN THE HAND. 85 
 
 effort, becalmed on a carpet, spell-bound 
 on a woollen sea. 
 
 " Day after day, day after day, 
 
 They stick, nor bieath nor motion ; 
 As idle as a painted ship 
 Upon a painted ocean." 
 
 And it is to escape from these afflictive 
 inmates that the travellin2:-carriage is or- 
 dered to the door, and the rumble put on. 
 But all in vain. The Brownies have be- 
 spoken their seats. The one perks his 
 long visage between my lord and lady, and 
 the other mounts the box with the heir ap- 
 parent. The country is deplorably " stu- 
 pid ;" and as the day wears on, the travel- 
 lers discover many omissions and " tire- 
 some" mistakes, which are so far a relief as 
 entitling them to be cross at one another; 
 and when the sumptuous hotel is attained, 
 and the costly dinner despatched, a sullen 
 sprite guides each to his chamber and 
 laughs as they labor to sleep — 
 
 " For vainly Betty performs her part, 
 If a ruffled head and a rumpled heart, 
 As well as the couch, want making." 
 
 8 
 
86 THE HAPPy home. 
 
 And T am sorry to add that many a cot- 
 tage is haunted. The circumstance which 
 first called my attention to the fact, was 
 finding that so few working-people are 
 keepers at home. In the evenings, I found 
 them at p 'nny-theatres, and at "judge and 
 jury" trials, smoking beside the alehouse 
 fire, or lounging over a tankard at the door 
 of some country-tavern. And I was sorry 
 to see them. I regretted that they should 
 be so selfish. I grieved that they should 
 indidge in enjoyments in which their wives 
 and chil(h-en could not share. But going 
 to their houses, I found a reason. I found 
 that many of these husbands and fathers 
 were driven from their homes by evil spirits. 
 The truth is, that the abode of many an in- 
 dustrious man is rendered miserable by two 
 notorious goblins, and they are none the 
 better for being native Saxons. Tawdri- 
 ness is a sluttish fairy, rejoicing in dirt and 
 disorder ; her sandals are down in the 
 heels, the better to display the gap in the 
 stocking-sole ; and a tuft of ragged hair 
 
A BUNCH IN THE HAND. 87 
 
 asserts its freedom through a corresponding 
 rent in the frowzy cap. In matters of 
 vertii — in pottery and furniture — her taste 
 is for torsos and fractured specimens, chairs 
 without hottoms, and grates without bars , 
 and therefore she breaks the spouts of the 
 pitchers, and burns the nozzle of the bel- 
 lows and the brush of the hearthbroom. 
 And in the picturesque, her liking is for 
 new combinations and striking contrasts ; a 
 blazing riband and a smutty face ; a feed 
 to-day and a fast to-morrow. On one end 
 of her geographical tea-table, untouched 
 since the morning, England is represented 
 in crumbs of bread, and alongside, the sis- 
 ter isle is sy nbolized in potato-parings ; and 
 at another corner, an Arve of muddy ale 
 mingles with a Rhone of reluctant sky- 
 blue. The kindred elf is Turmoil. Her 
 talent lies in creating discord ; and between 
 the slamming of the door, and the clashing 
 of the fire-irons, and the squalling of tur- 
 bulent children, it is not surprising that she 
 sometimes scares away to other scenes the 
 
THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 distracted "good man of the hotise." The 
 two together are more than a match for any 
 man ; and we can not wonder at the strange 
 dsyhuTLs which people seek whose homes 
 are haunted by dirtiness and din. 
 
 But all these foes of the house disappear 
 when piety takes possession. I could re- 
 joice to tell the scenes which may be wit- 
 nessed in some of England's stately halls, 
 where the genius of the place is an ascend- 
 ant gospel, and where, from its presence, 
 listlessness and languor have fled away, 
 because I think you would like to look at 
 them, I would gladly sketch some of these 
 bright moral spectacles, where surrounded 
 by the beauties of nature and t ie amenities 
 of art, families of high degree dwell lov- 
 ingly together, and occupy their hours in 
 intellectual improvement and in devices for 
 doing good to those around them ; where 
 wealth gives practical expression to philan- 
 thropy, and where the morning and even- 
 ing sacrifice derive, not virtue, but impres- 
 siveness from their position who present it. 
 
A BUNCH 11^ THE HAND. 89 
 
 But I must indulge in no more digression. 
 I must hasten to tell how real religion would 
 make your homes happy, my dear, indus- 
 trious neighbors. 
 
 And, for one thing, it would make them 
 neat and tidy. The mind of an ungodly 
 man is all confusion. Whims and fancies, 
 lusts and passions, come and go; and there 
 being no pervasive principle, no holy con- 
 trolling power, no master of the house, 
 that mind becomes a perfect chaos — a cage 
 of disorder and impurity. And that mind 
 manifests itself. It is very apt to transfer 
 its own image to the abode in which it 
 dwells, and make this also a den of filth 
 and confusion. But as soon as that mind 
 surrenders to the spirit of God, and is pos- 
 sessed by this heavenly inmate, a mighty 
 change comes over it. He shuts the door 
 against vile thoughts and vilianous notions; 
 and refractory passions he quells beneath 
 his firm but gentle sway. And he creates 
 a liking for what is pure, honest, lovely, and 
 of good report. And that inward change 
 8* 
 
90 THE HAPPY HOME 
 
 tells outwardly — the renewed *mind shows 
 iiseir. It sets the house in order; it finds 
 a j)lace for everything, and keeps every- 
 thing in its place; and though it may not 
 afford costly raiment or fine furniture, it is 
 rich enough to keep them clean. 
 
 And just as it pdrifies the house, so reli- 
 gion pacifies the household. A irreat caltn 
 inwar ly, it sheds a tranquillizing influence 
 on every side. It fills the hearts which 
 hold it with love to one another, and to 
 happy yokefellows it gives a truer and more 
 tender imderstandin"; than ever sprang from 
 
 sentimental fondness. 
 
 The man of prayer is always a man of 
 power. His very presence is encircled by 
 a serene ascendency, and his children and 
 all around him feel it. His own happiness 
 reminds him that there is a time to laugh 
 and a time to play ; and instead of fretting 
 at childish glee, he can heartily promote it. 
 Or if it be time to forbear, his friendly 
 " Hush !" creates an instant and cheerful 
 calm. The man of prayer carries with hina 
 
A BTTKCH IN THE HAND. 91 
 
 something of that secret majesty which is 
 only gotten at the mercy-seat ; and while 
 he is not seeking to bend all ihings to his 
 imperious wishes, he finds his wishes fore- 
 stalled, and his desires fulfilled by prompt 
 affection, or, better still, by a kind and all- 
 controlling power. And, hastening from 
 his daily toil, he knows what he may ex- 
 pect within — smiles and caresses, and 
 schoolroom news, loud shouts and silent 
 love — shouts which tell that the father is 
 not formidable, and silent love, which can 
 not tell how dear the husband is, but both 
 together telling to his inmost heart the lov 
 ing-kindness of the Lord. 
 
 Reader, your happiness will be my 
 reward. In this paper I have tried to 
 show, that, even within the limits of the 
 present life, there is great gain in con- 
 tented godliness. Will you not try it? 
 Will you not be persuaded to that wise 
 experiment which thousands have made, 
 but never one regretted? 
 
92 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 Think over vvh;it I have written. Read 
 it to your wife. Ask her what she thinks , 
 and should you both agree that your pres- 
 ent course is not the best, and that it might 
 be mended, begin at once the more excel- 
 lent way. 
 
 Pray to God that, for Jesus's sake, he 
 would give you the teaching of his own Holy 
 Spirit. You have many things to learn ; 
 many bad habits to give up, and many good 
 ones to begin. You can do nothing of 
 yourselves ; but may the Lord make you 
 able and willing in his day of power ! 
 
 For the past, seek pardon in a Saviour's 
 blood. If urged in the Mediator's name, 
 God will not despise the prayer. " Wash 
 me from mine iniquity, and cleanse me 
 from my sin. Create in me a clean heart, 
 O God ; and renew a right spirit within 
 me." 
 
 And, for the future, resolve, in the 
 streuiith of the Lord, on a course of con- 
 duct entirely new. Say with the Psalmist, 
 *' I will behave myself wisely in a perfect 
 
A BUNCH IN THE HAND. 93 
 
 way; I will walk within my house with a 
 perfect heart. A froward heart shall de- 
 part from me ; I will not know a wicked 
 person. 
 
 And, to show that you are sincere — to 
 prevent your present purposes from melting 
 like the vanished goodness of other days, — 
 take action. This evening set up God's 
 worship in your family.* Next Lord's 
 day carry your household to some Chris- 
 tian sanctuary, and commence a course of 
 constant attendance on the means of grace. 
 Break instandy with any bad companions, 
 and if there be anything on which you 
 covet farther light, consult some mis- 
 sionary, or minister, or pious friend. And 
 may the Lord bless you, and keep you, 
 and cause his countenance to shine upon 
 you ! 
 
 * Those who wish directions for conducting this 
 blessed service, which has given a new and joyful aspect 
 to many a dwelling, are referred to a tract, called " The 
 Church in the House." 
 
 [This tract is published with some others in the 
 •'Harp on the Willow." — Am. Pub.] 
 
94 THE HAPPT HOME. 
 
 " O God of Bethol ! hy whose hand 
 Thy people still are fed, 
 Who through this weary pilgrimage 
 Hast all our fathers led : 
 
 « Through each perplexing path of life 
 Our wand'ring footsteps guide ; 
 Give us each day our daily bread, 
 And raiment fit provide. 
 
 " spread thy cov'ring wings around. 
 Till all our wand'rings cease, 
 And at our Father's loved abode. 
 Our souls arrive in peace." 
 
BATTLE OF WATERLOO. 
 Page 95 
 
THE GUN OR THE GOSPEL 
 
 Not long ago we went to look at Water- 
 loo — and Waterloo looked at us. Like 
 most of the storied places which we have 
 chanced to visit, he seemed to remember 
 all about himself, and told us a deeper tale 
 than the old ser2:eant who acted as our 
 guide and his interpreter. We found him 
 nearly recovered from the rough usage of 
 the famous conflict. His ri<iht arm, the 
 scorched and battered Hougomont, he still 
 carries in a sling ; and a huii:e excrescence 
 has grown up where the shots fell thickest ; 
 while solemn monuments are the scars 
 which cover many a casualty On the 
 whole, however, the veteran wore a placid 
 aspect. His crops were in good condition, 
 and he had lately taken to the bleaching 
 trade ; and though one of our party was 
 hunting a rare butterfly on the very mount 
 
96 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 of the Belnic linn, he did not resent the 
 levity. Even Waterloo, though pensively, 
 appeared to siiare the .-pirit of the age, 
 and gave his vote for traffic, peace, and 
 progress. 
 
 And since that day, in quiet hours, the 
 old Battlefield will often come to us and 
 talk to us. And, reader, we shall confide 
 to thee some lessons which the gray war- 
 rior has whispered in our inward ear. 
 
 Sometimes he says, " Be thnnkful. Tt 
 was no common fight : it was not a play of 
 arms ; it was not the old tournay betwixt 
 France and England, with a little glory for 
 the prize. But it was an Armageddon. 
 It was a battle betwixt freedom and brute 
 force — betwixt the soul of man and mili- 
 tary despotism, — and a battle of most 
 anxious issue. In men and guns, the op- 
 pressor was much the strongest. His troops 
 spoke one language, were moved by one 
 intelligence, and, familiar with victory, they 
 were this time flushed with vindictive fury. 
 The allies came from all countries. As he 
 
THE GUN OR THE GOSPEL. 97 
 
 marched beneath the beech-trees of Soig- 
 nies, or rose from his rainy bivouac that 
 morning, many a soldier felt for the first 
 time that he was about to stand, front to 
 front, with death ; and even the bravest 
 were taken aback by the enemy's rapid 
 arrival. And had some little move been 
 different — had not heavier metal been in- 
 troduced into the British artillery — had 
 the Belgian panic spread — had the frail 
 defence of Hougomont yielded — had Na- 
 poleon not wavered at a critical conjunc- 
 ture — had the English guards failed to 
 repel the charge of his veterans — or had 
 the Prussians been a little later in coming, — 
 the story of the world might have bounded 
 back a hundred years, and, like another 
 Sisyphus, weary Europe would have been 
 constrained to moil up hill once more the 
 stone which bluff Harry and grand Louis 
 had twice before rolled down. But the 
 Lord on high controlled it all. He gave 
 the timely valor ; he brought the season- 
 able succor ; he prompted the previous 
 9 
 
98 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 plans, and crowned tliein with prosperity; 
 he toned the nerves on which freedom 
 hung; and when a few mile^ and a simple 
 day were all that intejvened betwixt Eu- 
 rope and an aj^e of steel, he smote the 
 spoiler, and gave the nations what they 
 never knew before — a ij:eneration of peace 
 and improvement; an era of busy enter- 
 prise and bloodless industry, an age of 
 intelligence, and liberty, and lofty aspira- 
 tions." 
 
 Sometimes, in accents more subdued, 
 our oracle will say, " Be thankful, for war 
 is fearful work. You are a youngster, and 
 have forgotten it, and it is easy for you to 
 sit under your fig-tree, and read it in Ali- 
 son or Siborne ; but you can never realize 
 it. That morning, the people at home rose 
 from pleasant slumber, and little knew what 
 thousands, over-night, could boast no better 
 bed than the flooded fields of Mont St. 
 Jean. And when the village bells were 
 sprinkling sabbath music over all the land, 
 and the psalm of praise pealed high, they 
 
THE GUN OR THE GOSPEL. 99 
 
 did not hear the death-shots rattle and 
 the murdering cannons roar. And when 
 the Sunday-schools were met, and family 
 groups repeated hymns and read the word 
 of God together, they were not startled by 
 the noise as bombs exploded, and frantic 
 squadrons swooped at one another in tram- 
 pli' g thunder. And when Highland cot- 
 tagers knelt down for evening worship, and 
 London streets were brightly filled from 
 closing sanctuaries, none knew that their 
 fathers and brothers strewed the turf where 
 the tide of battle had receded, and left be- 
 hind its wreck of surs^ing agony. Distance 
 of place made people unconscious, and 
 therefore callous, then ; distance of time 
 makes you almost as unconscious and as 
 callous now. But, trust me, war is ghastly 
 work, and I never shall forget that night of 
 horrors. I can not forget the shudder of 
 mother Earth as her dying children tossed 
 upon her bosom, and how timidly from 
 among the clouds the moon peeped forth 
 on miles of slain. I can not forget the 
 
100 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 moans, and blasphemies, and prayers. I 
 can not forget how the stalwart grenadier 
 would spurn the sod, and grasp the clay in 
 his terrible death-struggle ; and how softly 
 the warm blood flowed through the broid- 
 ered vest of the gallant youth, till England 
 and his sisters stood before his eyes, and 
 melted into his swooning sleep.* And, 
 sooth to say, broad-cast with orphanage 
 and widowhood as that evening left my 
 acres, it was long before I felt the pride 
 of glorious victory." But lately our mystic 
 visiter came to us in more cheerful mood. 
 It was a sabbath morning, and the ISth of 
 June in the bygone summer; and along 
 with the dim light the wraith of Waterloo 
 stole into our chamber. '' I wish you joy," 
 said the vision ; '' a new thing in the earth ! 
 Europe completes this day a generation of 
 
 • Those who would Hke to know how it fares with 
 the wounded soldier on the field of battle, may read the 
 narrative of Colonel Ponsonhy as given in Gleig's story 
 of Waterloo. It is too long for transcription here; but 
 Mr. Gilbert has told most of it in the sketch which 
 precedes this paper. 
 
THE GUN OR THE GOSPEL. 101 
 
 repo-e ! Britain has kept peace for three 
 and thirty years ! To you and your coe- 
 vals the Hnes have fallen in pleasant places ; 
 and for your lot in this wealthiest and hap- 
 piest of all times, you can not thank enough 
 the Prince of Peace. Diluted and indi- 
 rect, there is a gospel in this age ; and if 
 you can get the ear of any of your coun- 
 trymen, go and tell them the blessings of 
 this long tranquillity. And go and tell them 
 about that gospel, whicli, did ihe world 
 embrace, it would never need another Wa- 
 terloo." 
 
 Fain would we tell them ; but in a short 
 paper like this, we have only room for 
 hints. 
 
 1. One most obvious advantage of peace 
 is the occupation which it gives to indus- 
 try. In time of war, markets are shut, and 
 seas are dangerous. Looking on Britain 
 as one huge factory — a factory which is 
 willing to spin and weave for all the world, 
 it is plain that a declaration of hostilities is 
 the same thing as the closing of many mar- 
 9* 
 
102 THE HAPF7 HOME. 
 
 kets. Nations ai2:ainst whom Britain is in 
 arms, refuse to take her goods ; and though 
 neutral or friendly nations may still be wil- 
 ling to take them, they can not so easily 
 get them. The path of the ocean is in- 
 fested by privateers and ships-of-war ; and 
 the expense of transport is terri()ly enhan- 
 ced by the augmented rates of insurance, 
 and by long detentions in waiting for a con- 
 voy ; so that while the manufacturer loses 
 one customer by losing the hostile nation, 
 in consequence of the higher price of his 
 commodities, the customer whom he keeps 
 can only buy a smaller share. For in- 
 stance, in the last year of the war, in 1814, 
 there were exported from this country six 
 thousand tons of hardware and cutlery; 
 but in ten years of peace, the quantity had 
 doubled, and in twenty years had nearly 
 trebled.* In 1801, there were consumed 
 
 * The exact numbers were : — 
 In 1814 .... 6,162 tons. 
 
 " 1824 12,28.5 " 
 
 « 1834 .... 16,275 " 
 
 Porter^s " Progress of the Nation.** 
 
THE GUN OR THE GOSPEL. 103 
 
 in the cotton manufactures of this empire 
 about fifty millions of pounds of the raw 
 material, and this quantity continued nearly 
 stationary till the close of the war. But, 
 five years after the restoration of peace, the 
 consumption had trebled ; in ten years it 
 was quadruple ; in twenty it had increased 
 sixfold ; and m thirty years, it was twelve 
 times as great as it had been from the com- 
 mencement to the close of hostilities.* 
 
 In other words, since peace was estab- 
 lished, employment has multiplied three- 
 fold or fourfold for the workmen of Bir- 
 mingham and Sheffield ; and for the spin- 
 ners of Glasgow and Manchester, in a ratio 
 of twelve to one. 
 
 2. And while the operatives of this coun- 
 
 * The consumption of cotton in the mills of Britain 
 
 was as follows: — 
 
 1801 .... 54,203,433 lbs. 
 
 1814 53,777,802 « 
 
 1820 .... 152,829,633 « 
 
 1825 202,546,809 « 
 
 1835 .... 333,043,464 « 
 1845 592,581,600 " 
 
 The last year is derived from Du Fay and Co.'s Trade 
 
 Report ; the rest from Porter. 
 
104 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 try have been thus contributing to the com- 
 fort of the human brotherhood, supplying 
 scissors, knives, and fowling-pieces, to the 
 Indian hunter and the African villager, and 
 apparel to all the world, the recompense 
 has come back into their own wardrobe 
 and cupboard, and the modern mechanic has 
 become a far wealthier man than his fore- 
 father was. The twenty million pounds' 
 worth of cotton goods which we annually 
 ship for other shores, and the correspond- 
 ing productions of other sorts, return in 
 commodities good for food and pleasant to 
 the eye. And though an English laborer 
 may earn no more shillings in a week than 
 he could have earned thirty years ago, these 
 shillings will procure comforts and accom- 
 modations now which they could not have 
 compassed then. And I need not say that 
 wealth lies not in the shilling, but in the 
 shilHng's worth — not in the quantity of 
 coin which a man possesses, but in the 
 amount of commodities which, at a given 
 time and place, that coin will procure. 
 
THE GUN OR THE GOSPEL. 105 
 
 Applying this test of opulence, we may 
 thankfully conclude, that anaid all its re- 
 maining privations, British industry is bet- 
 ter conditioned now than it has ever been ; 
 and we may trust that, with peace among 
 the nations, and with sobriety and self-con- 
 trol among the citizens, the standard of 
 comfort will steadily ascend. 
 
 To make the improvement palpable, we 
 might appeal to the better clothing of the 
 artisan and of bis wife and children. And 
 we might refer to the better furniture of 
 his abode. But we select an instance in 
 those articles which were once the luxury 
 of the rich, but are now, to some extent, 
 the privilege of all. In 1814, there were 
 imported, for Britain's home consumption, 
 19,224,154 lbs. of tea. In 1846, the im- 
 port had mounted to 47,500,000 lbs. That 
 is, in the former year, each inhabitant of 
 the United Kingdom consumed a pound 
 of tea ; in the latter year, there was an al- 
 lowance to each of one pound ten ounces. 
 In 1814, ther i were imported about 6,000,- 
 
106 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 000 lbs. of coffee. In 1S4G, the import of 
 coffee for domestic use Iiad risen to 36,- 
 781,391 lbs. That is, there was, in the 
 former year, an allowance of five ounces, 
 or thereby, and in the latter, ncaily a pound 
 and a quarter to each inhabitant of (ireat 
 Britain and Ireland.* In 1814 there were 
 imported 223,775,888 lbs. of sugar. In 
 1846 there were entered for consumption 
 547,292,816 lbs. That is, assuming the 
 population of Great Britain and Ireland as 
 eighteen millions at the former period and 
 thirty millions at the latter, we have, at the 
 earlier date, twelve pounds of sugar for 
 each inhabitant, and at the later period, 
 eighteen pounds. t And what renders this 
 
 *To which may be added 3,000,000 lbs. of cocoa in 
 1846 against nothing in 1814. 
 
 fThe above calculations are founded on statements 
 contained in the house of commons' report on commer- 
 cial relations with China (IS47); reports of meetings 
 at Liverpool on the tea duties ; M'Culloch's Dictionary 
 of Commerce ; the last edition of the Encyclopaedia 
 Britannica ; the trade circulars of Messrs, T. and H. 
 Littledale, of Liverpool, and Messrs, Ripley, Brown, & 
 Co., of London ; along with items of information obli- 
 gingly communicated by personal friends. 
 
THE GUN OR THE GOSPEL. 107 
 
 progress peculiarly cheering, is the assu- 
 rance that it is mainly a progress among the 
 workino:-classes. The wealthier members 
 of the community consume no more at 
 present than they did forty years ago, for 
 even when the article was dearest they used 
 as much as they required. Oiher people 
 only use as much as they can afford ; and 
 though we wish they could afford a great 
 deal more, we are glad to find that the mass 
 of the population can now command these 
 healthful and innocent enjoyments to an 
 extent which no other nation knows, and 
 wtiich, to our frugal fathers would have 
 looked like dangerous luxury. 
 
 3. But there is another way in which 
 the commonwealth has profited by peace. 
 It has let loose much of the capital, and 
 all the mind and soul which were formerly 
 locked up in the great business of fighting. 
 By its constant demands, war drains the 
 wealth of a kingdom, and instead of spe id- 
 ing his money in building mills, or improv- 
 ing waste lands, the capitalist is obliged to 
 
108 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 pay some of it into the exchequer in the 
 shape of positive taxes, and is tempted to 
 pay over the remainder in the shape of lu- 
 crative loans. And even though taxation 
 did not rise, and though the capitalist con- 
 tinued as wealthy as before, war makes hinn 
 timid and retentive ; afraid to launch a ship 
 to-day which may be captured to-morrow ; 
 afraid to build a factory this autumn, which 
 the torch of the invader may reduce to 
 ashes next spring ; afraid to commence 
 some costly process of production, when 
 the market for which he desigjied it may 
 be shut in a moment, and remain liermeti- 
 cally closed for years to come. But en- 
 couraged by protracted pe'ace, the capital 
 of England has waxed courageous and con- 
 fident, and has given to the workingmen of 
 these kingdoms an extent and continuance 
 of employment without a parallel in modern 
 stojy. 
 
 Vnd peace has set free, for the purposes of 
 human improvement, that large amount of 
 intelligence which war, the monster-monop- 
 
THE GUN OR THE GOSPEL. 109 
 
 olist, absorbed into itself. In the fighting 
 times the engineer exerted his skill to in- 
 vent new implements of destruction, and 
 was mighty in catamarans, and rocket-tubes, 
 and martello-towers ; and incandescent with 
 phosphorus and sulphur, the patriotic chym- 
 ist exercised himself in cheapening gun- 
 powder, and discovering Greek fire. The 
 two ventricles of the nation's heart were 
 the horse-guards and the admiralty, and all 
 thought and interest, the nation's very life, 
 flowed through them. And though some- 
 times a gentle spirit hinted a mitigation of 
 the criminal code, or a concession to some 
 overburdened class, the rebufl?*s which he 
 perpetually encountered taught him that he 
 was born before the time. But, when 
 peace arrived, the volunteer beat his sword 
 into a ploughshare, and the soldier became 
 philanthropist. It was no longer needful 
 for the mind of the nation to deposite its 
 first-fruits on the altar of Moloch ; but, 
 without impeachment of his loyalty, the 
 mechanist, and statesman, and the lover of 
 10 
 
110 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 his sperie-. miirht devote his energies to 
 useful inventions and civic reforms, and all 
 those benevolent labors which tend to make 
 a bad world better. 
 
 We can not recount all the discoveries 
 of this peaceful age, from a lucifer-match 
 up to a railroad, and from a steamship 
 down to a pair of gutta-percha iroloshes. 
 But these discoveries have made the mod- 
 ern laborer a micrhtier man than an ancient 
 lord. Just look at your lot, and wonder 
 at your wealth. There was your worthy 
 father — when he wanted to be up betimes, 
 he lost half the night listening to the village 
 clock, and starting up at all the hours ex- 
 cept the right one ; and when at last, a trifle 
 late, he jimnped out of bed, and got hold 
 of the tinder-box, after ten minutes' prac- 
 tice with the flint and steel, heated but not 
 enlightened, through sleet and slush he had 
 to seek his neighbor's door, and borrow a 
 burning brand. But soundly reposing all 
 the night, and by an alarum roused at the 
 appointed minute, you rasp the ready match 
 
THE GUN OR THE GOSPEL. Ill 
 
 across the sanded surface, and turn the 
 stopcock of the magic tube, and in a mo- 
 ment are surrounded by an affluence of the 
 purest light. It was in the Brighton van 
 that your father travelled, that hard season 
 when he visited the coast in search of work, 
 and he never got the better of the long, 
 bleak journey. But for your own diversion 
 you took the trip the other day. You went 
 in the morning and returned at night, and it 
 cost you neither cough nor rheumatism, 
 and less money altogether than you would 
 have paid for one night's jolting in the frosty 
 van. When the last letter came from your 
 poor brother in the north — penny stamps 
 were not invented then — and you remem- 
 ber how rueful you felt, as the postman re- 
 fused to leave the precious packet, for you 
 had not in all the house a shilling and 
 threepence halfpenny. And when your 
 uncle broke his leg, and the bungling sur- 
 geon set it so badly, that it had to be bro- 
 ken and set anew, after all his torture he 
 never got full use of it again. But when 
 
112 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 you put out your shoulder-blade, you can 
 not tell how they set it to rights ; for all 
 your remembrance is, the doctor holding 
 some fragrant essence to your nostrils, and 
 when you awoke from a pleasant trance, 
 the arm was supple, and you yourself all 
 straight and trim. 
 
 To peace we are indebted for cities lit 
 with gas, and rivers alive with steam. To 
 peace we owe the locomotive and the tele- 
 graph, which have made the British towns 
 one capital, and remotest provinces tlie en- 
 closing park. To peace our thanks are 
 due for food without restriction, and inter- 
 course without expense ; for journeys with- 
 out fatigue, and operations without pain ; 
 cheap correspondence and cheap corn ; 
 railway cars and chloroform. And to the 
 same bounteous source — or rather to the 
 Giver of peace, and of every perfect gift — 
 we stand beholden for the hundred expe- 
 dients which now combine to make life 
 longer and more happy. 
 
 But far better than such material boons 
 
THE GUN OR THE GOSPEL. 113 
 
 are the social and moral blessings which 
 have followed in the train of peace. It 
 has given us leisure to review our position, 
 and has not only revealed, but remedied 
 some of its worst evils. It has enabled us 
 o emancipate our slaves, and it has short- 
 ened the hours of factory labor. It has 
 so enlarged the franchise that no frugal citi- 
 zen need despair of attaining it ; and it has 
 given to public opinion a legislative power 
 which it never knew before. It has revised 
 our criminal jurisprudence, and has ex- 
 punged from the statute-book the greater 
 number of its sanguinary laws. And it 
 has lately been turning a benevolent eye 
 toward the abodes and occupations of the 
 poor, and has sought to give the sons of 
 toil cheerful amusements and salubrious 
 dwellings. And by removing taxes on 
 knowledge, and by improvements in print- 
 ing, it has made the newspaper a familiar 
 visiter of cottages, and has rendered bibles 
 and other books as cheap as loaves of bread. 
 When the New Zealand chief was going 
 10* 
 
114 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 to war, and the missionary remonstrated, 
 he exclaimed : "But what shall I do with 
 my barrels of gunpowder?" So might 
 Britain have remonstrated, could any one 
 have warned her that there was to be no 
 more fighting for thirty successive years. 
 "What will become of all our energies? 
 our combativeness and enterprise, and love 
 of adventure? and all the heroic ingre- 
 dients of our national character? We 
 must have a battle, though it were only to 
 keep so much good gunpowder from spoil- 
 ing." But God himself has found another 
 oudet for these energies ; and it is with 
 God's own enemy and man's — it is with 
 moral evil — that the great battle is now be- 
 gun. Fighting on the field of foreign hea- 
 thenism and home-bred depravity, every 
 teacher of a ragged school or a Sunday 
 class, every faithful superintendent of a 
 penitentiary or a convict-ship, and every 
 earnest minister or missionary is a soldier ; 
 and every outcast reclaimed, every child 
 instructed, and every human being won 
 
THE GUN OR THE GOSPEL. 115 
 
 over to the cause of piety and virtue, is 
 another victory. This is the great contest 
 of our age ; and in this bloodless battle we 
 long to see enlisted all the chivalry and 
 prowess of our Anglo-Saxon world. We 
 long to see a holy war in which men shall 
 fight with their own bad passions, and shall 
 seek to demolish nothing, except those 
 works of the devil whicli the Son of God 
 came to destroy. We long to see a cam- 
 paign, not of race against race, nor of class 
 against class ; but a crusade of all races 
 and all classes against whatever is ungodly 
 and selfish here below. We long to 
 see — precursor of the Prince of peace — 
 a war in which the Bible shall be the 
 standard, and Christianity the uniform ; in 
 which the gospel or love divine shall be the 
 only weapon, and sin the only enemy ; a war 
 in which the watchword and the rallying 
 cry shall be, " Glory to God in the highest ; 
 on earth peace, good-will toward man."* 
 
 • To show how extensively the evangelical spirit has 
 spread, and how greatly Christian philanthropy has 
 
116 
 
 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 And now that it is done, do you ask the 
 purpose of tliis paper? It is, first of all, to 
 make the reader and the writer thankful. 
 It is, to make more vivid to our minds 
 God's goodness in casting our lot on this 
 tranquil time. 
 
 strengthened during these peaceful years, we might 
 refer to the statistics of any religious society. For in- 
 stance, in 1814, the Bible society had a revenue of 
 87.216/., and issued 352,569 copies of the Scriptures; 
 but in the year ending March, 1847, its income was 
 117,440/., and its issues were 1,419,28.3 copies. And 
 the following table, from returns kindly furnished by 
 the secretaries, shows the relative income and mission- 
 ary staff of the four leading societies : — 
 
 1 
 
 NUMBER OF 
 
 1 ITfCOME. 
 
 MISSIOXARIES. 
 
 Church of ) 1814. 1 1847. 
 England S 10,788/. 101,294/. 
 
 1814. 
 
 1847. 
 
 22 
 
 180ff. 
 
 Wesleyan . . i 9,554 103.619 
 
 70 
 
 411 
 
 London . . . 
 
 19,429 76.319 
 
 68 
 
 1656 
 
 Baptist. . . . 
 
 7,000 25,000 
 
 20 
 
 70c 
 
 To which may be added the many societies which had 
 no existence at the earlier period. It is only five years 
 since the Free Church of Scotland became a distinct 
 community, and in that time it has contributed for 
 Christian purposes upward of a million and a half of 
 money. 
 
 a Besides 1298 country-born and native teachers. 
 
 b Besides 700 teachers. 
 
 c Besides 159 teachers. 
 
THE GUN OR THE GOSPEL. 117 
 
 And we have written with a view to per- 
 petuate the blessing. We confess a desire 
 for the spread of pacific principles ; and 
 we would urge their importance on that 
 class of the community who, if not the 
 greatest gainers in peace, are the first and 
 the sorest sufferers in war. 
 
 But what can a working man contribute 
 toward the grand result of " peace on 
 earth" ? He can contribute to society one 
 peaceful citizen. Forming his own opin- 
 ions and holding his own convictions, he can 
 lay down and carry out the rule of leaving 
 truth to fight its own battle. He can foster 
 in his children habits of magnanimity and 
 mutual forbearance, and can teach them that 
 *' greater is he who ruleth his spirit than he 
 who taketh a city." He can exhibit that 
 brio-htest heroism which retaliates evil with 
 good ; and he may do his endeavor to spread 
 that gospel which is the grand peace- 
 maker. And looking forward to the day 
 when the weapons of the warrior, like the 
 engines of the inquisitor, shall only survive 
 
118 TFIE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 on ttie shelves of the museum, as relics of a 
 fearful barbarism, he may even now, by his 
 practical suffrage, recognise the majesty of 
 mind and the meanness of physical force. 
 
 And he can teach his fellow-workmen 
 the more excellent way for obtaining their 
 just demands. Break the head of a bur- 
 gess or yeoman, and however liberal his 
 former leanings, you make him at once an 
 enemy of the popular cause ; burn a cot- 
 ton-mill, and, by raising the rates of insu- 
 rance and ruinino; confidence — confidence 
 in the good-sense and forbearance of the 
 English people — you make the owner hes- 
 itate whether he will build another; burn a 
 second, and the owner does not hesitate, 
 but at once withdraws to safer regions his 
 capital and his family, and leaves to lasting 
 misery some hundreds of your fellows ; 
 burn a (Jozen, and Lancashire will soon be 
 a Saxon Tipperary, with no smoking chim- 
 neys to deface the landscape, nor any fac- 
 tory bell to disturb the ragged holyday ; but, 
 unlike the Celtic Tipperary, without a mar- 
 
THE GUN OR THE GOSPEL. 119 
 
 ket for its pigs, and when potatoes rot, 
 without a bard-working neighbor to send it 
 beef and bread. But let the industrious 
 classes advance in education and principle, 
 and there is no political privilege w^hich 
 they need despair of attaining, nor any 
 which a right-hearted citizen vvould grudge 
 to share with them. The working-classes 
 will find their most eloquent argument, as 
 well as their most effective armor, in their 
 own worth and intelligence. 
 
 And every laborer who, in the manifesto 
 of Messiah the prince, has read that golden 
 sentence, " Blessed are the peacemakers, 
 for they shall be called the children of 
 God," may pray, " O, Prince of peace, thy 
 kingdom come — thy kingdom of righteous- 
 ness, and peace, and joy." He may pray 
 for the quick arrival of that time when, be- 
 neath the Saviour's benignant sceptre, the 
 Bible shall supplant the baton, and the gos- 
 pel shall silence the gun; and joined in 
 cordial brotherhood, the sons of Adam shall 
 again behold this earth a happy home ! 
 
THE OASIS. 
 
 The sabbath is God's gracious present 
 to a working world; and for wearied minds 
 and bodies it is the grand restorative. The 
 Creator has given us a natural restorative — 
 sleep; and a moral restorative — sabbath- 
 keeping ; and it is ruin to dispense will) either. 
 Under the pressure of high excitement, in- 
 dividuals have passed weeks together with 
 little sleep, or none ; but when the process 
 is long-continued, the over-driven powers 
 rebel, and fever, delirium, and death, come 
 on. Nor can the natural amount be regu- 
 larly curtailed without corresponding mis- 
 chief. The sabbath does not arrive like 
 sleep. The day of rest does not steal over 
 us like the hour of slumber. It does not 
 entrnnce us whether we will or not; but ad- 
 dressing us as intelligent beings, our Crea- 
 tor assures us that we need it, and bids us 
 

 THE OASIS 
 
THE OASIS. 121 
 
 notice its return, and court its renovation. 
 And if, rushing in the face of our Creator's 
 kindness, we force ourselves to work all 
 days alike, it is not long till we pay the for- 
 feit. The nieutal worker — the man of busi- 
 ness or the man of letters — finds his ideas 
 coming turbid and slow ; the equij3oise of 
 his faculties is upset; he grows moody, fit- 
 ful, and capricious ; nnd with his mental 
 elasticity broken, should any disaster occur, 
 he subsides into habitual melancholy, or in 
 self-destruction speeds his guilty exit from 
 a gloomy world. And the manual worker 
 — the artisan, the engineer — fagging on 
 from day to day, and week lo week, the 
 bright inluilion of his eye gets blunted, and, 
 forgetful of iheir cunning, his fingers no 
 longer perform their feats of twinkling agil- 
 ity, nor, by a plastic and tuneful touch, 
 mould dead matter, or wield mechanic pow- 
 er; but, mingling his life's blood in his daily 
 drudgery, his locks are prematurely gray, 
 his genial humor sours, and, .-^laving it till 
 he has become a morose or reckless man, 
 11 
 
122 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 for any extra effort, or any blink of balmy 
 feeling, he must stand indebted to opium or 
 alcohol. To an industrious population so 
 essential is the periodic rest, that when, in 
 France, the attempt was made to abolish 
 the weekly sabbath, it was found necessary 
 to issue a decree, suspendino- labor one day 
 in every ten. iVnd in our own country, when 
 at attempt was made, in time of war, to work 
 a royal manufactory without a pause — at 
 the end of a ^ew months, it was ascertained 
 that the largest amount of work had been 
 accomplished by the hands exempted from 
 Sunday labor.* Master manufacturers have 
 stated that they could perceive an evident 
 
 • " Not many years ago, a contractor went on to the 
 west with his hired men and teams to make a turnpike 
 road. At first he paid no regard to the sabbath ; but 
 continued his work as on other days. He soon found, 
 however, that the ordinances of nature, no less than the 
 moral law, were against him. His laborers became 
 sickly, his teams grew poor and feeble, and he was fully 
 convinced that more was lost than gained by working 
 on the Lord's day. So true is it that the sabbath-day 
 laborer, like the glutton and the drunkard, undermines 
 his health, and prematurely hastens the infirmities of 
 age, and his exit from the world." — Dr. Humphrey of 
 America^ 
 
THE OASIS. 123 
 
 deterioration in the quality of the goods pro- 
 duced as the week drew near a close, just 
 because ihe tact, alertness, and energy of 
 the workers began to experience inevitable 
 exhaustion. When a steamer on the Thames 
 blew up, not long ago, the firemen and sto- 
 kers laid the bla/ne on their broken sabbath: 
 it stupified and embittered them — made 
 them blunder at their work, and heedless 
 what havoc these blunders might create. 
 And we have been informed that, when the 
 engines of an extensive steam-packet com- 
 pany in the south of England were getting 
 constantly damaged, the mischief was in- 
 stantly repaired by giving the men, what the 
 bounty of their Creator had given them long 
 before, the rest of each seventh day. And 
 what is so essential to industrial efficiency, 
 is no less indispensable to the laborer's 
 health and longevity. This was well ex- 
 plained before a committee of the house of 
 
 commons by an accomplished physician, 
 Dr. Farre : — 
 
 "Although the night appai-ently equalizes 
 
124 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 the circulation well, yet it does not suffi- 
 ciently restore its balance for the attainment 
 of a long life. Hence one clay in seven, 
 by the bounty of Providence, is thrown in 
 as a day of compensation, to perfect by its 
 repose the animal system. You may easily 
 determine this question as .a maiter of fact/ 
 by trying it on beasts of burden. Take that 
 fine animal the horse, and work him to the 
 full extent of his powers every day of the 
 week, or give him rest one day in seven, 
 and you will soon perceive, by the superior 
 vigor, with which he performs his functions 
 on the other six days, that this rest is neces- 
 sary to his well-being. Man, possessing a 
 superior nature, is borne along by the very 
 vigor of his mind, so that the injury o( con- 
 tinued diurnal exertion and excitement on 
 his animal system is not so immediately ap- 
 parent as it is in the brute; but, in the long 
 run, he breaks down more suddenly : it 
 abridges the length of his life and that 
 vigor of liis old age, which (as to mere an- 
 imal power) ought to be the object of his 
 
THE OASIS. 125 
 
 preservation. * * * This is said simply as a 
 physician, and without reference at all to the 
 theological question ; but if you consider 
 further the proper effect of real Christianity, 
 namely, peace of mind, confiding trust in 
 God, and goodwill to man, you will per- 
 ceive in this source of renewed vigor to the 
 mind, and through the mind to the body, 
 an additional spring of life imparted from 
 this higher use of the sabbath as a holy 
 rest." 
 
 The sabbath is God's special present to 
 the working man, and one chief object is 
 to prolong his life and preserve efficient his 
 working tone. In the vital system it acts 
 like a compensation-pond : it replenishes 
 the spirits, the elasticity, and vigor, which 
 the last six days have drained away, and 
 supplies the force which is to fill the six 
 days succeeding. And in the economy of 
 existence it answers the same purpose as, 
 in the economy of income, is answered by 
 a savings' bank. The frugal man who puts 
 aside a pound to-day, and another pound 
 11* 
 
126 TH^ hajFPT home. 
 
 next month, and who in a quiet way is al- 
 ways putting past his stated pound from 
 time to time, wlien he grows old and frail 
 gets not only the same pounds back again, 
 but a good many pounds besides. And 
 the conscientious man who husband's one 
 day of existence every week — who, instead 
 of allowing the sabbath to be trampled and 
 torn in the hiirry and scramble of life, 
 treasures it devoutly up — the Lord of the 
 sabbath keeps it for him, and in length of 
 days and a hale old age gives it back with 
 usury. The saving's bank of human exist- 
 ence is the weekly sabbath-day. 
 
 Another purpose for which the Father 
 of earth's families has presented the work- 
 man with this day, is to enhance his do- 
 mestic comfort and make him happy in his 
 home. If it were not for this beneficent 
 arrangement, many a toiling man would 
 scarcely ever know the gentle glories and 
 sweet endearments of his own fireside. 
 Idle people are sometimes surfeited with 
 the society of one another, and wealthy 
 
THE OASIS. 127 
 
 people, however busy, can buy an occasion- 
 al holyday. But though the working-man 
 gets from his employer only one or two days 
 of pastime in all the year, his God has given 
 him two-and-fifty sabbaths; and it is these 
 sabbaths which impart the sanctity and sweet- 
 ness to the poor man's home. If he has 
 finished his marketing, and cleared off his 
 secular engagements on Saturday niirht, it 
 is marvellous what a look of leisure and 
 bright welcome ushers in the morrow, and 
 what a spirit of serene expectancy breathes 
 through the tidy and well-trimmed cham- 
 ber. The peace of God lights up the pi- 
 ous laborer's dwelling, and, reserved fjom 
 a toil-worn week, the radiance of true love 
 pours freely forth in these gleams of sab- 
 bath sunshine. With graceful tint it touch- 
 es the deal chairs and homely table, and 
 converts a fathom of gray carpet into "a 
 wonder of the loom." It plays iridescent 
 among the quaint ornaments of the mantel- 
 shelf, streams over the hearth-stone, and 
 perches on the eight-day clock — the St. 
 
128 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 Elm of rough weather past — the omen of 
 good days to come. It penetrates affec- 
 tionate bosoms, and revives old memories 
 deep and tender, which, but for such week- 
 ly resurrection, might have died for ever ; 
 and with early interest and endearment it 
 suffuses that face which on sabbath morns 
 is always young, and reminds the proud 
 possessor of that wealth of quiet wisdom and 
 thoughtful kindness with which the Lord 
 has blessed his lot. And in the thaw of 
 friendly and thankful feelings, in the flow 
 of emotions cordial and devout, silent praises 
 sparkle in the eye, and the husband's love 
 and the father's joy well up to the very 
 brim. 
 
 " Hail, sabbath ! thee I hail, the poor man's day : 
 On other days the man of toil is doomed 
 To eat his joyless bread, lonely ; the ground 
 Both seat and board, screened from the winter's cold 
 And summer's heat by neighboring hedge or tree. 
 But on this day, embosomed in his home, 
 He shares the frugal meal with those he loves ; 
 With those he loves he shares the heartfelt joy 
 Of giving thanks to God." 
 
THE OASIS. 129 
 
 But beyond all these, God's gift of the 
 sabbath should be precious to the working 
 world as its main opportunity for moral and 
 spiritual improvement, and as its best pre- 
 parative for a happy immortality. While 
 eternity is hastening apace, the exigencies 
 of each successive moment are banishing 
 the thought of it, and many are surprised 
 into the great hereafter before they have 
 distinctly perceived that themselves are on 
 the road to it. The sabbath brings a week- 
 ly pause, and in its own mild but earnest 
 accents says to each, Whither art thou 
 going? while its benignant hours invite the 
 pilgrim of earth to that better country of 
 which it is at once the angel and the speci- 
 men. The sabbath brings leisure; it gives 
 a day for thinking ; and it brings seclusion. 
 From the daily vortex — from the crowd 
 so dizzy and profane, it snatches the whirl- 
 ing waif — it pulls him aside into its little 
 sanctuary, and leaves him alone with God 
 On the table of the busy man, whether rich 
 or poor, it spreads the open Bible, and 
 
130 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 wakes agnin the oracle which has spoken 
 the saving word to thousands. To the in- 
 tentand adoring eye it unveils that wondrous 
 cross where redemption was achieved and 
 God was reconciled ; and hy the vista of 
 one radiant tomb it guides the musing spirit 
 far beyond the land of graves ; while per- 
 fumed gales and Eolian pulses from its 
 opened window bespeak the nearer heaven, 
 and stir the soul wirh immortality. To the 
 man who has got the sabbatic sentiment — 
 to the man who has received from above 
 the spiritual instinct, what a baptism of 
 strength and joy does the Lord's day bring! 
 From prayerful slumber he wakes amid its 
 gende light, and finds it spreading round 
 him like a balm. There are hope and com- 
 fort in its greeting, and from prayerful re- 
 tirement he joins his family circle with peace 
 in his conscience and freshness in all his 
 feelings. The books which he reads, and 
 the truths which he hears, expand his in- 
 tellect, and fill it with thoughts noble, pure, 
 and heavenly The public worship gives 
 
THE OASIS. 131 
 
 rise, and by giving outlet, gives increase to 
 hallowed emotions and Christian affections. 
 The psalmody awakens gratitude, cheerful- 
 ness, and praise ; and the comprehensive 
 prayers and confessions remind him of evils 
 which he himself has overlooked, and perils 
 and temptations of which he was not aware. 
 Interceding for others, his soul dilates in 
 sympathy and public spirit. Friends vague- 
 ly remembered — friends long parted or on 
 foreign shores, and on bustling days well- 
 nigh forgotten — now join his earnest fel- 
 lowship ; and prayer hallows while it deep- 
 ens ancient amity. The poor, the sick, 
 the broken-hearted, prisoners, slaves, the 
 wliole family of sorrow, flit before the sup- 
 pliant's eye and leave him wfth a softer 
 heart. And the realm and its rulers recur 
 at this sacred moment, and every sentiment 
 is merged in loyalty and Christian patriot- 
 ism. And the heralds of salvation, pastors, 
 teachers, missionaries, with all the evangel- 
 istic agency, are recalled to mind, and while 
 his interest in Christ's cause becomes more 
 
132 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 personal, his soul expands in catholicity. 
 And, if in a willing mood, from the word 
 read and expounded, he carries home en- 
 lightenment, invigoration, impulse; and with 
 big emotions, and blessed hopes, the sab- 
 bath sends him forth on a busy week and a 
 restless world, a tranquil presence and an 
 elevatinii; power.* 
 
 To cross an eastern desert is often ardu- 
 ous work. And as they jo": on their grunt- 
 ing asses, or swing on their melancholy 
 camels, — as the sim pours his downright 
 embers, and shadows are projected short 
 and round, — as the water-bags grow empty, 
 and, for lack of pomegranate or citron, each 
 squeezes in his cheek the juiciest pebble 
 he can find, the travellers are apt to droop 
 into a moody silence, and lose all liking 
 for their journey. With dust in every pore, 
 and fever in every vein, nobody cares for 
 his neighbor, nor feels the slightest interest 
 in any earthly thing. And should some 
 
 * The foregoing paragraphs appeared in the North 
 British Review for May, 1848. 
 
THE OASIS. 133 
 
 sprightly comrade still hold out, his wit is 
 resented as rudeness, and he himself is 
 hated for his irksome glee. But presently 
 they glimpse the green banner in the dis- 
 tant sky, the palm-signal which tells of 
 water, and verdure, and repo>e. And as 
 they reach the leafy tent, and fling them- 
 selves on the cool ground, and climb for 
 the date-clusters, and through the sandy 
 filter scoop the hidden fountain, their soul 
 is restored, and their interest in all things 
 revives. Wife and children are dear again, 
 and home is much desired ; and as the art- 
 ist points his pencil, and the scholar takes 
 out his book, the caravan dissolves in 
 friendly talk and flowing soul. And, reader, 
 like that desert route, your daily toil is a 
 life-wasting drudgery. Resumed morning 
 by morning, and followed hour by hour, it 
 drains the strens^th and dries the soul. But 
 at the end of every weekly march, behold 
 yon green oasis ! Like palm-tree shadow, 
 behold the welcome which the rest-day 
 waves ! And as it bids you eat and drink 
 12 
 
134 The happy home. 
 
 abundantly, do yon obey the genial ^ign. 
 Turn in to tarry beneath the refreshful 
 canopy, and yon will find the recompense 
 in a r«^plenished henrt and a renovated 
 home ; and as, full of heaven's peace and 
 strength, you issue from its sweet asylum, 
 you will resume life's journey rejoicing. 
 
 But thou^rh we have mentioned the uses 
 of the sabbath first, we must not forget its 
 obligation. If you have got a healthy 
 mind — one conscientious, and dutiful, and 
 right with God — your main question will 
 ever be, not, What is for my interest? but 
 what is rio;ht? what would God have me 
 to do? You will have no fear but that 
 duty and interest will in the long run coin- 
 ciile ; still, you will perceive a positive and 
 imniediate pleasure in obedience ; it will be 
 vour meal and drink to do the will of your 
 Fii'Jier in heaven. And on this subject, 
 the will of God is plain and peremptory. 
 As early as the creation of the human race, 
 he showed his purpose regarding the sab- 
 bath. " On the seventh day, God ended 
 
THE OASIS. 135 
 
 his work which he had made ; and he 
 rested on the seventh day from all his work 
 which he had made ; and God blessed the 
 seventh day, and sanctified it ; because 
 that in it he had rested from all his work 
 which God created and made." And ac- 
 cordingly, when, in all the pomp of Mount 
 Sinai, that moral law was given which has 
 ever since been the great standard of right 
 and wrong, the fourth of the ten command- 
 ments was, "Remember the sabbath-day, 
 to keep it holy. Six days shalt thou labor 
 and do all thy work ; but the seventh day 
 is the sabbath of the Lord thy God: in it 
 thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy 
 son, nor thy daughter, thy man-servant, nor 
 thy maid-servant, nor thy cattle, nor the 
 stran^^er that is within thy gates. For in six 
 days the Lord made heaven and earth, the 
 sea, and all that in them is, and rested the 
 seventh day: wherefore the Lord blessed 
 the sabbath-day and hallovred it. And all 
 through, from the first book of the Bible to 
 the last, we find the primeval blessing still 
 
136 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 following the day, and the people of God 
 devoutly keeping it. And perhaps there 
 is no command which a special Providence 
 has more signally guarded — none, the ob- 
 servance of which God has crowned with 
 a more abundant recompense — and none 
 of which the violation has been followed 
 by a swifter or sorer frown. The will of 
 God is clear ; the command is plain and 
 full ; and it is not easy to estimate his guilt 
 who tramples under foot an institution 
 clothed with such divine authority, and 
 fraught with such divine benignity. 
 
 And now the question comes round, 
 how are we to spend the day so as to fulfil 
 its Author's gracious purposes? 
 
 Among sabbatic employments, the most 
 obvious is the public and private worship 
 of God. On other days you have little 
 time for meditation and prayer ; but on a 
 sabbath morning you have leisure. Take 
 your bible, read a portion, and think over 
 it. In prayer, try to remember the sins 
 and errors of the week, and ask pardon for 
 
THE OASIS. 137 
 
 the Saviour's sake ; and try to recall your 
 recent mercies, and, as you reckon them 
 one by one, bless the Lord for his benefits. 
 And consider what farther blessings you 
 stand in need of, and with humble earnest- 
 ness implore them from that munificent 
 Giver who bestows so bounteously, and 
 *' who upbraideth not." And if you have 
 a household, let prayer and a passage of 
 God's word begin your family day ; and 
 then let all resort to the house of God to- 
 gether ; and when there, not only should 
 you listen to the messages and lessons 
 which God's minister brings you, but seek 
 to put your whole heart into the services 
 of prayer and praise. The thing which 
 has made you sometimes feel dull in a 
 place of worship, was, that you did not 
 worship. Yoin- body was there, but your 
 mind was everywhere. Pray that God 
 would fix your tlioughts ; and if you be 
 all ear when the chapter is read and the 
 sermon preached, ail voice when the psalms 
 are sung, and all heart when the prayers 
 12* 
 
138 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 are offered, yov will not weary at the time 
 and the hallowed effect will follow you 
 home. 
 
 A great help toward spending the Lord's 
 day rightly is a well-selected library. From 
 a friend yon may borrow a good book, now 
 and then ; but it is desirable to have a little 
 stock of your own. It would be a great 
 matter if you conld compass a book like 
 "Henry's Commentary," or the commen- 
 tary published by the Tract society; for, 
 besides throwing great liglit on the Bible, 
 it would fnrnish you with endless Sunday 
 reading. And if you wish to get solid 
 and extensive acquaintance with sacred 
 truth, you can not do better than master 
 "Dwight's System of Theology." We 
 have known working men who did so. 
 Books like the " Pilgrim's Progress,'* and 
 " D'Aubigne's History of the Reforma- 
 tion," the Lives of Henry Martyn, and 
 John Newton, and Colonel Gardiner, 
 "Abbott's Young Christian," "Williams's 
 Missionary Enterprise in the South Seas," 
 
THE OASIS. 139 
 
 and "Moffat's Labors in Africa," — such 
 books would be interesting to the young 
 folk, as well as instructive to yourself. 
 And it would be well to possess and read 
 prayerfully such books as *' Pike's Persua- 
 sives to Early Piety," and " James's Anx- 
 ious Inquirer," and " Baxter's Saint's 
 Everlasting Rest." All these books have 
 been published in cheap forms ; and in 
 shops where they sell books second-hand, 
 you may get the largest of them for very 
 little money. And the man who has such 
 companions in his house, and who has any 
 real earnestness about his immortal soul, 
 will find ways and means to spend profit- 
 ably each returning sabbath. 
 
 And in order to make it a cheerful day 
 to your children, you would do well to 
 enter zealously into their sabbath employ- 
 ments. It is likely that you send them to 
 the Sunday-school ; but the punctuality 
 with which they attend, and the proficiency 
 which they exhibit there, depend very much 
 on their parents. If you invite them to 
 
140 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 repeat to you their hymns and other les- 
 sons — and if they find that diligence is 
 rewarded, not only by a teacher's love, but 
 by a father's smile — they will ply their 
 tasks with new vivacity. And, as a reward 
 of good conduct, you might read over to 
 them, or allow them to read to you, one 
 of the little books they bring home. Chil- 
 dren are, in general, fond of music; and 
 you might sometimes spend half an hour 
 very sweetly in singing psalms or hymns 
 t02:eiher. 
 
 o 
 
 Addressing our industrious fellow-citi- 
 zens, we can not close without warning 
 them against a twofold jeopardy, which 
 presently threatens the day marked off by 
 God for the laborer's leisure. There is an 
 attempt on the part of some wealthy men 
 to buy up the sabbath of the poor, and 
 there is a tendency on the part of some 
 working men to pilfer the sabbath of their 
 fellow-workmen. Rich men, hasting to be- 
 come still richer, are anxious to receive 
 their letters on the Lord's day; and in 
 
THE OASIS. 141 
 
 order to save time for business, they wish 
 to perform their journeys on that day; and 
 to increase the profits of their investments 
 in railways, and steamers, and tea-gardens, 
 and rural taverns, they are anxious to create 
 among the working classes a taste for Sun- 
 day trips and pleasure parties. They bribe 
 the engineer and the letter-carrier ; and, 
 for the rich man's money, these workmen 
 barter their sabbath ; and they tempt the 
 town artisan and the city shopman, and, 
 for the sake of the cheap excursion or the 
 merry ploy, the artisan and shopman are 
 enticed to squander both their money and 
 their souls. 
 
 On the other hand, from improvidence, 
 or indolence, or some other cause, the sab- 
 bath morning finds many working people 
 with no food in their houses, and, going 
 out to purchase it, they compel their fel- 
 low-workmen — the grocers, and butchers, 
 and bakers, and their assistants — to toil in 
 their service half the sabbath-day ; while 
 other workmen hie away to the river or the 
 
142 THE HAPPT HOME. 
 
 railway station, and compel another class 
 of their fellow-workmen — sailors, and en- 
 gine-drivers, and waiters in taverns — to 
 toil till midni;[!:ht in snpplying them with 
 pleasure. And in this way, in the capital 
 of the kingdom, there are 20,000 people 
 working in shops, and at least as many 
 more connected with public conveyances 
 and places of public entertainment, who 
 never know a sabbath. And where are 
 the robbers who have wrenched from these 
 British citizens their birthright of a weekly 
 repose? Who are the tyrants who thus 
 grind the faces of the poor? We grieve to 
 
 swer — poor men — working men. 
 
 Now, recollecting that the sabbath is the 
 poor man's day — that it is the providen- 
 tial bulwark against over-production and 
 under-pay ment — that it is the grand restor- 
 ative of the laborer's wasted strength and 
 spirits, and the reviver of his domestic 
 joys — that it is, in short, the palladium of 
 his present and eternal happiness, — and 
 recollecting, farther, that if the poor lend it 
 
THE OASIS. 143 
 
 to one another, they must soon sell it to 
 the rich, and by-and-by do seven days' 
 work for the six days' pay, — we put it to 
 yourselves, if the workman who makes a 
 merchandise of his sabbath is not a traitor 
 to his class? And, leaving religious con- 
 siderations out of view, we ask if the laborer 
 who spurns the filthy lucre offered for his 
 sabbath hours, and who, perhaps, sacrifices 
 a good situation over and above — we ask, 
 if, instead of being jeered for his scruples, 
 he does not deserve the thanks of all his 
 fellows, as the Hampden or the Tell of 
 industrial freedom ? 
 
 So far as the Sunday excursion goes, the 
 workman forfeits little who does without it. 
 *' As it is not all gold that glitters, neither 
 is it all true pleasure that usurps the name. 
 There is a way which seemeth right unto 
 a man, but the end thereof are tlie ways 
 of death. Even in laughter the heart is 
 sorrowful, and the end of that mirth is 
 heaviness. Never shall I forget the mourn- 
 ful accents with which a condemned crim- 
 
144 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 inal, shortly before he was executed, said 
 in my hearing, that his crime:* began with 
 small thefts and pleasure excursion- on the 
 Lord's day."* To us, no excursion is 
 pleasure which is not pleasant when ended. 
 But in what does the pleasure of the Sun- 
 day ploy consist next morning? Is it in 
 the choice friendships you have made, or 
 the sum which you have added to your 
 savings? Is it in the additional energy 
 which bulges in your muscles, and the lim- 
 pid clearness with which the stream of 
 thought and feeling flows ? Or is it in the 
 great calm which fills your conscience — 
 the happy thought how much you have 
 done for God and for your fellow-men ? 
 Or is it in the unwonted neatness with which 
 your habitation smiles on your return, and 
 the fresh alacrity with which you resume 
 the morrow's task? "I lodged," says a 
 shrewd observer, " within a stone-cast of 
 the great Manchester and Birmingham rail- 
 
 * Dr. King's Words to the Working Classes on the 
 Sabbath Question. 
 
THE OASIS. 145 
 
 way. I could hear the roarina: of the trains 
 alono; the line, from morninir- till near mid- 
 day, and during the whole afternoon ; and, 
 just as the evening was setting in, I saun- 
 tered down to the gate by which a return 
 train was discharging its hundreds of pas- 
 sengers, fresh from the sabbath amusements 
 of the country, that T might see how they 
 looked. There did not seem much of 
 enjoyment about the wearied and some- 
 what draggled groups : they wore, on the 
 contrary, rather an unhappy physiognomy, 
 as if they had missed spending the day 
 quite to their minds, and were now return- 
 ing, sad and disappointed, to the round of 
 toil from which it ought to have proved a 
 sweet interval of relief. A congregation 
 just dismissed from hearing a vigorous dis- 
 course, would have borne, to a certainty, a 
 more cheerful air."* 
 
 Our reader has likely tried the plan of 
 Sunday diversions already. Have they 
 made you a healthier or a happier man? 
 • Hugh Miller's First Impressions of England. 
 
 13 
 
146 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 Have they made you richer, or a more 
 respected member of society? Or have 
 they not consumed a large amount of your 
 hard-won earnings, and often sent you to 
 Monday's toils more weary than you lefl 
 them on Saturday night ? Have they iioi 
 involved you with worthless and abandoned 
 acquaintances, and sometimes left on your 
 mind a gloomy foreboding and a guilty 
 fear? And do you never tremble to think 
 what the end of these things iHust be? 
 Many a Sunday tiip has had for its ter- 
 minus the jail, the convict-ship, the scaffold. 
 Many a broken sabbath has been the first 
 step in a career which ended in drunken- 
 ness, in theft, in murder. And every sub- 
 bath-breaker is going forward to the bar of 
 God. Dear reader, accept as a timely 
 message these friendly lines. Seek pardon 
 for the past, and, in the Lord's strength, 
 make trial of the better way. For the sake 
 of a peaceful conscience, for the sake of a 
 prosperous week, for the sake of a hapi)y 
 home, for the sake of an approving God, 
 
THE OASIS. 147 
 
 " Remember the sabbatli-day, to keep it 
 holy ;" and you will shortly prove the truth 
 of the promise, " If thou turn away thy foot 
 from the sabbath, from doing thy pleasure 
 on my holy day, and call the sabbath a de- 
 light, the holy of the Lord, honorable ; and 
 shalt honor him. not doing thine own ways, 
 nor finding thine own pleasure, nor speak- 
 ing thine own words : then shalt thou de- 
 light thyself in the Lord, and I will cause 
 thee to ride upon the high places of the 
 earth, and feed thee with the heritage of 
 Jacob, thy father ; for the mouth of the 
 Lord hath spoken it." 
 
THE FIRESIDE. 
 
 In Southern Europe they have no house- 
 hold fires ; but when there is snow on the 
 mountains, or ice in the wiqd, they get a 
 chafing-dish, and comfort their toes with 
 glowing chJircoal. And in Russia and the 
 north, so fiercely blows the winter-blast, 
 that they are fain to defend themselves 
 from behind an intrenchment of flues, and 
 stoves, and fire-clay furnaces. And it is 
 only our own happy clime, so crisp in the 
 morning, and so mild at the winter-noon, 
 which rejoices in that glorious institution, 
 the open hearth and blazing ingle. 
 
 As to the fuel or the style of the fire- 
 place, we have no sectarian feeling. The 
 old English method is to adjust in a vast 
 chimney a log of pine, with a few support- 
 ing fagots ; and as the flame leaps, and 
 roars, and crackles on a clear night in some 
 
THE UNEXPECTED GREETING. 
 
 Page 167. 
 
THE FIRESIDE. 149 
 
 lofty banquet-hall, it makes a right baronial 
 blaze. In as far as it needs no grate, this 
 plan is rather econonnical ; but as it also 
 needs a scrand nnansion, with turrets on the 
 top and an ancient forest round it, the 
 saving is somewhat counterbalanced. And 
 a good fire may be made by flanking a few 
 peats with a lump of coke or anthracite; 
 and if it be Wales or the Highlands, and 
 if there be rime on ihe ground and frozen 
 rooks on the tree, the blue smoke is beau- 
 tiful, and the turfy odor delicious. But for 
 us in London, where peats are as dear as 
 penny loaves, it is a great satisfaction to 
 know that they yield a profusion of dust. 
 It was a " bonny" fire to which King James 
 treated his wealthy subject, George Heriot; 
 and still " bonnier," in the eyes of a needy 
 prince, was the fire with which the gold- 
 smith repaid his hospitality, next morning, 
 when he fed the flame, not with billets of 
 cedar, but with the king's " promises to 
 pay." And very beautiful is the mountain 
 of blazing splints, with a torch of candle- 
 13* 
 
150 THE HAPPT HOME. 
 
 conl in the front of them, — like the mir- 
 rored sun in a golden temple of Peru — 
 such as may be seen in Lanarkshire or 
 Durham, or some other ij^neous paradise, 
 flingintr throujjh all the recesses of a min^hty 
 farm-kitchen its wealth of revealing flame. 
 But bonfires like these are beyond the 
 reach of authors and readers on the banks 
 of the Thames ; and therefore we set down 
 a recipe which our wife acquired from our 
 younger brother, and which we have often 
 found very seductive about ten o'clock at 
 night : — 
 
 *' Take three or four fragments of walls- 
 end ; lay them together ; and when thor- 
 oughly lighted, take the tongs, and place 
 tenderly over them all the large cinders 
 from under the grate ; and then over the 
 cinders, and layer by layer, shovel every 
 particle of ashes, as carefully as if it were 
 diamond dust ; and in half an hour the 
 skilful concrete will be one huge and 
 ardent ruby. Then talk, read, or darn 
 stockings ; and wonder which is happiest, 
 
THE FIRESIDE. 151 
 
 you or the queen." Besides greatly light- 
 ening the dustman's labors next morning, 
 this device will be found a great saving of 
 fuel. 
 
 And as for the fireplace, please your- 
 selves. We have never seen any which 
 we liked so well as the Carron grate in our 
 own nursery, some ages agone. - On either 
 panel a cast-metal shepherd played on a 
 cast-metal pipe ; and on the shining hob 
 there often simmered a few prunes or a 
 honey posset, which a kind-hearied aunt 
 had provided for our frequent colds ; and 
 in some retreat below it a mouse had 
 found a cozy hermitage, and every time 
 that they stirred the fire the mouse came 
 out, and then ran back again as soon as the 
 pother was over. We often wonder what 
 has become of the grate and the mouse : 
 we know too well what has become of the 
 nursery. 
 
 But, after all, the charm of an English 
 hearth is neither polished bars nor blazing 
 brands, but the true and loving faces which 
 
152 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 il shines upon. Its charm is the conjugal 
 affection, tne parental hope, the filial piety, 
 the neighhorly 2;ood-will, which cluster 
 round it and form the fireside. 
 
 Judging, however, by hints which we 
 have occasionally received — chiefly from 
 our lady readers — there is room for im- 
 provement in many of the " Homes of 
 England." We will not betake ourselves 
 to the indolent subterfuge of saying that 
 there are faults on either side ; but shall 
 let our fair correspondents speak for them- 
 selves, and shall then offer a few sug- 
 gestions for the good of our readers in 
 general. 
 
 " TO MR. HAPPY HOxME. 
 
 *' Sir : If you wish your paper to be of 
 any use, you must come nearer the point. 
 Hitherto I consider it a perfect failure, and 
 without it improves very much I shall give 
 up taking it in. I wish you would speak 
 to my husband. Tell him that a woman 
 can not always be cleaning of a house, if 
 
THE FIRESIDE. 153 
 
 as soon as the mop is out of her hand, a 
 great boor comes tramping up stairs, with 
 all Holborn sticking to his heels. Tell 
 him that it is time for him to be doing 
 something better for his family. I have 
 heard of bricklayers who became master- 
 builders in no time ; and I certainly did 
 not expect that my husband should be 
 wearing a leather apron up to this pre- 
 cious time of day. And if he does not 
 wish me to become a perfect fright, tell 
 him to get me a new bonnet. 
 
 " I am, yours, &c., 
 " Catharina Crumpet Cayenne." 
 
 " Sir, my husband Is a bruit, he keps a 
 keb. he takes car to feed his horse, and to 
 get a good diner for himself, but he leaves 
 me Witliout enuf to by a morsle. now, 
 sir, i takes verry bad with this, for i been 
 a Cook and always yused to my wittles 
 kumfortabal Before i marry this Great bear. 
 " Betsey Capers." 
 
154 THE HAPPT HOME. 
 
 ** Sir : Five years ao;o I was one of the 
 happiest women in England, for I was then 
 united to one who loved me, and of whose 
 affection I was proud. And though I know 
 that I was very imperfect, yet, for Robert's 
 sake, I was constantly striving to improve. 
 It was all my pleasure to hear St. Pancras 
 strike six, for then I knew that a few min- 
 utes would bring him home, and the room 
 would be tidy, and the kettle would be 
 sindno^, and somethin": would be readv for 
 Robert to look at, or something that needed 
 nis help before it could be finished. And 
 he was always so handy: in those evening 
 hours he made the cradle for our little boy, 
 and a green-painted Venetian to keep out 
 the sun at our southern window. And 
 many a beautiful book have we gone 
 through, reading it aloud by turns. But, 
 for a good while past, a change has come 
 over my dear husband. He has not taken 
 to drinking, or anything really bad ; but he 
 has got so fond of politics. He is a fine 
 scholar and an orator; and at first I was 
 
THE FIRESIDE. 155 
 
 vain to think that the club could not do 
 without him. But I must now confess, sir, 
 that it takes up all his thoughts. He has 
 not the same spirit for his work, and I have 
 very little of his company. Last night he 
 came in for his tea in a sad hurry, and 
 swallowed it without speaking a word, for 
 he was engaged to one of these meetings. 
 And I fear that I looked cross, for, as he 
 put on his hat, he spoke to me in a way 
 that my Robert never spoke to me before. 
 Tell him, dear sir, that I was not sulking: 
 I was thinking of our happy evenings, and 
 how he might now be giving a lesson to 
 our little George. . iVnd tell him, that if he 
 will only give his wife some of those sweet 
 hours he did not use to grudge, she will 
 strive to deserve them better. I am not 
 clever enough to understand, as he does, the 
 affairs of the nation, but I quite agree with 
 him in wishing all to be free and happy. 
 
 " Excuse me for not giving my name ; but 
 allow me to subscribe myself, yours respect- 
 fully, '* A Keeper at Home." 
 
156 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 It is the difficult task of the workman's 
 wife to make the fireside an attractive and 
 improvino; place — a place round which 
 husbands and sons will be s^lad to gather 
 when the work of the day is done. And 
 in attempting this, you may possibly find 
 assistance in the followins^ hints : — 
 
 1. Be tidy. — Some wives, who are suf- 
 ficiently industrious, have no talent for neat- 
 ness. They are constantly scrubbinir and 
 scouring, and they keep chairs and tables 
 marching and counter-marcliinix from one 
 apartment to another; but, except the tur- 
 moil at the time, and the humid exhalations 
 afterward, there are no products of their 
 ill-directed energy; in a day or two, all is 
 the same dirt and disorder as ever. Oth- 
 ers, you do not know when their house- 
 cleaning is done, for you never find them 
 worried and in dishabille ; but, somehow, 
 their furniture always finds its proper place ; 
 their hearth is always bright, and a limpid 
 daylight always looks in at their unsullied 
 window. 
 
THE FIRESIDE. 157 
 
 Few things are more apt to send a man 
 to the playhouse or tavern, than a filthy or 
 uproarious fireside. When he comes home 
 in the evening, and finds his apartment a 
 chaos of frowzy garments, and broken dish- 
 es, and potato parings, and squalling chil- 
 dren ; or a laundry steaming with wet linen, 
 and fragrant with soap-suds, he is very apt 
 to light his pipe and sally forth in search 
 of a more cheerful scene. And, therefore, 
 every woman who would save her husband 
 from the gin-shop nnd bad company, should 
 contrive to get all her bustle and rough 
 work completed betimes, and have a trim 
 and smiling chamber awaiting his return.* 
 
 2. Be thriftij. — The picture of an indus- 
 trious and frugal housewife was sketched 
 
 * There are now wash-houses provided in many places, 
 where, for a payment of twopence or threepence, an ac- 
 tive woman may do all the washing of an ordinary fam- 
 ily in a few hours. Hot water, drying apparatus, smooth- 
 ing irons, and a mangle are provided ; and besides all the 
 economy of time and money, the linen is dried without 
 being soiled, and your own abode is saved the horrors 
 of the weekly ablution. 
 
 14 
 
158 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 by an inspired pencil long ago, and many 
 a Scotch and English matron might be 
 quoted who has gone far to repeat the 
 original. " Who can find a virtuous wom- 
 an V for her price is far above rubies. The 
 heart of her husband doth safely trust in 
 her, so that he shall have no need of spoil. 
 She seeketh wool and flax, and worketh 
 willingly with her hands. She girdeth her 
 loins with strength, and strengtheneth her 
 arms. She layeth her hands to the spindle, 
 and her hands hold the distaff. She is not 
 afraid of the snow for her household ; for 
 all her household are doubly clothed. Her 
 husband is known in the gates, when he 
 sitteth among the elders of the land. She 
 openeth her mouth with wisdom ; and in 
 her tono^ue is the law of kindness. She 
 looketh well to the ways of her household, 
 and eateth not the bread of idleness. Her 
 children arise up and call her blessed ; her 
 husband also, and he praiseth her. Many 
 daughters have done virtuously, but thou 
 excellest them all. Favor is deceitful, and 
 
THE FIRESIDE. 159 
 
 beauty is vain ; but a woman that feareth 
 the Lord she shall he praised."* 
 
 A man may work ever so hard ; but, if 
 his wife be not a good manager, no money 
 will preserve his children from rags, nor his 
 abode from wretchedness. And if, after all 
 his earnings, he comes home to a joyless 
 lodging; if, before he can obtain liis sup- 
 per, he has to go in search of his gossiping 
 helpmeet, and by the way picks from the 
 gutter his tattered son and heir; if he finds 
 that his wife is too fine a lady to handle the 
 broom or the neeiUe ; if he is ashamed when 
 a neighbor drops in, or if, for want of a time- 
 ly stitch, he himself can scarcely venture 
 out, he is sure to grow abject or broken- 
 hearted. He perceives that it is of little 
 moment whether, at the end of the week, 
 he brings home half-a-sovereign or half-a- 
 crown, and sees no use in procuring gay 
 dresses and bright ribands, which only 
 render more grotesque the scare-crows 
 around him. On the other hand, he must 
 * Proverbs xxxi. 
 
160 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 be a mean-spirited mortal who can see the 
 wife of his youth toiling and striving to se- 
 cure respectability and comfort for himself 
 and his household, without straining his 
 every nerve to help her. A savage may be 
 content to bask in the sunshine, and look 
 on while the mother of his children is 
 catching fish or planting yams; but in Eng- 
 land we trust there are few of these lazy 
 churls. And we have known of instances 
 not a few where a man has been reclaimed 
 from idle or self-indulgent habits by the in- 
 fluence of a judicious and warm-hearted 
 wife. The following is an instance, which 
 we the more gladly give, because it occurred 
 in the sister isle : — 
 
 " One day," says Mrs. Hall, " we en- 
 tered a cottage in the suburbs of Cork : a 
 young woman was knitting stockings at the 
 door. It was as neat and comfortable as 
 any in the most prosperous districts of Eng- 
 land. We tell her brief story in her own 
 words, as nearly as we can recall them : 
 
 " ' My husband is a wheelwright, and 
 
THE FIRESIDE. 161 
 
 always earns his guinea a week ; he was a 
 good workman, but the love of drink was 
 so strong in him, and it wasn't often he 
 brought me more than five shillings out of 
 his one pound on a Saturday night, and it 
 broke my heart to see the children too 
 ragged to send to school, to say nothing of 
 the starved look they had, out of the little 
 I could give them. Well, God be praised, 
 he took the pledge, and the next Sunday he 
 laid twenty-one shillings upon the chair you 
 sit upon ! Oh, didn't I give thanks upon 
 my bended knees that night ! 
 
 " ' Still I was fearful it would not last, 
 and I spent no more than the five shilhngs 
 I used to, saying to myself, May be the 
 money will be more wanted than it is now ! 
 Well, tlie next week he brought me the 
 same, and tlie next, and the next, until eight 
 weeks had passed ; and, glory to God, there 
 was no change for the bad in my husband ! 
 and all the while he never asked me why 
 there was nothing better for him out of his 
 earnings. So I felt there was no fear foi 
 14* 
 
 /^ 
 
162 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 him, and the ninth week, when he came 
 home to me, I had this table and these six 
 chairs, one for myself, four for the children, 
 and one for him ; and I was dressed in a 
 new gown, and the children all had new 
 clothes and shoes and stockings, and upon 
 his chair T put a bran new suit, and upon 
 his plate, I put the bill and receipt for them 
 all, just the eight sixteen shillings, the cost 
 that I'd -aved out of his wages, not know- 
 ing what might happen, and that always went 
 for drink. And he cried, good lady and gen- 
 tleman, he cried like a baby, but 'twas with 
 thanks to God ; and now where's a healthier 
 man than my husband in the whole county 
 of Cork, or a happier wife than myself, or 
 decenter or better fed children than my 
 own?'" 
 
 3. Keep a good temper. — Nothing can be 
 more vexatious than a smoky fireside. A 
 cold wind is sifting through the passage, and 
 a handful of moist brushwood is sputtering 
 under the coals, and just when you hope 
 that it is about to kindle, a black tornado 
 
THE FIRESIDE. 163 
 
 comes whirling down the vent, and, as sooty 
 flakes and Egyptian darkness fill the air, 
 eyes water, nostrils tingle, the baby screams, 
 gi and mother coughs, the sash flies open, 
 Boreas enters, and the cat disgusted leaves 
 the room. And like that smoking chimney 
 is the house whose presiding genius is swift 
 to wrath, or sullen. Jaded with work, or 
 harassed by the day's cross accidents ; often 
 drenched in the rain, or draggled by the 
 world's rough usage, the man of toil wends 
 homeward. "Ha, ha !" he says, " I shall 
 soon be warm : I shall see the fire." But, 
 alas ! the fuel is green, and the chimney 
 does not draw. Displeased by some un- 
 toward incident, or in a fretful humor, his 
 yoke-fellow receives him with reproaches, 
 or a frown, or treats him to long and troub- 
 lous stories ; and instead of the bright solace 
 and glowing comfort, on which he vainly 
 counted, he watches the smouldering wrath 
 and its swelling puffs, till, in despair, he 
 flings down the bellows, and rushes into the 
 smokeless tempest out of doors. 
 
164 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 No doubt a wife has many things to vex 
 her. Your work is hard. Your cares are 
 many. You have a host of things to nian- 
 age ; things so minute that you are not 
 thanked if they all go right, but at the same 
 time so weighty that you are exceedingly 
 upbraided if the least of them goes wrong. 
 And when your foot is on the cradle, and 
 the saucepan is boiling over, and the last 
 torn garment engages either hand, a hungry 
 boy or an impatient husbnnd rushes in shout- 
 ing for his dinner and a dozen other things 
 directly. And in the midst of all that worry, 
 nothing is so natuial as to fume and scold 
 and lose your temper; but in the midst of 
 all that worry, nothing were so noble as to 
 remain serene, and self-possessed, and 
 cheerful. And if you seek help from God, 
 he will enable you to possess your soul in 
 patience. He can give you peace and 
 sprightliness, and make you the ventilator 
 of tlie smoky chamber. Amid surrounding 
 tumult, he can supply you with soft words 
 and gentle looks, and, like the bird of fable, 
 
THE FIRESIDE. 165 
 
 make your very presence the antidote of 
 storms. He can give you that cheerful 
 countenance which doeth good like a medi- 
 cine — a medicine which, if it does the 
 patient good, does still more good to those by 
 whorrt it is administered. 
 
 4. Cultivate jjcr son (d piety. — It is a great 
 matter for a wife and a mother to be intel- 
 ligent and well-informed ; for without this 
 she can not exert a lasting ascendency over 
 her children, nor be the fit associate of a 
 thouiJ:htful and strono^-minded husband. But 
 more important than a cultivated understand- 
 ing is a sanctified heart. Of all possessions 
 the most permanent, it is of all influences 
 the most powerful; for even those who hate 
 it most bitterly are constrained to yield it a 
 constant though reluctant homage. Does 
 any matter cause you grief? Like Hannah, 
 that " woman of a sorrowful spirit," lay it 
 before the Lord, and your countenance will 
 be no more sad. Does any course of con- 
 duct perplex you ? " In all thy ways ac- 
 knowledge Him, and He will direct thy 
 
166 THE HAPIT HOME. 
 
 Steps." Is any undertaking completed, and 
 can you personally do no more in order to 
 promote it? "Commit tliy works unto the 
 Lord, and thy thoughts shtdl be establish- 
 ed." Do you wish to be blameless in your 
 personal demeanor and thorough in domes- 
 tic fluties? Take for your guide the Word 
 of God ; and " when thou goest it shall 
 lead thee ; when thou sleepest it shall keep 
 thee ; and when thou awakest it shall talk 
 with thee." Are you anxious to prepossess 
 in favor of piety tlie mind of your partner? 
 Tlien " be in subjection to your own hus- 
 band ; that if any obey not the Word, they 
 also may without the Word be won by the 
 conversation of the wives ; while they be- 
 hold your chaste conversation coupled with 
 fear (that is, your modest and respectful 
 demeanor). And let your adorning be, not 
 that outward adorning of plaiting the hair, 
 and of wearing of gold, or of putting on 
 of apparel ; but let it be the ornament of a 
 meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight 
 of God of great price." 
 
THE FIRESIDE. 167 
 
 Of all your duties the most arduous i> the 
 right training- of your offspring. It is a duty 
 which mainly devolves on you. Of all 
 others, a mother is most constantly with her 
 children, and of all influences her teaching, 
 her examf)le, and her prayers, are the like- 
 liest to decide their future character. 
 
 Last summer a famous German writer 
 died. His young days were the winter of 
 his life; for, when a few weeks old he had 
 lost his mother, and in all his rude tossings 
 from place to place he had fallen in with no 
 kind welcomes nor any gentle woids. Bnt 
 somehow he contrived to get to college, and 
 was cramming his mind with such dry learn- 
 ing as colleges can give, when one stormy 
 night in the Christmas recess, he stopped 
 at a country inn. " As I entered the par- 
 lor darkened by the evening twilight, I was 
 suddenly wrapped in an unexpected em- 
 brace, while amid showers of tears and kis- 
 ses I heard these words, ' Oh ! my child 
 — my dear child!' Though I knew that 
 this greeting was not for me, yet the mother- 
 
168 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 ly pressure seemed to me the herald of bet- 
 ter days, the beautiful welcome to a new 
 and better world, and a sweet trembling 
 passed over me. As soon as lis^hted can- 
 dles came in, the illusion vanished. The 
 modest hostess started from me in some 
 consternation ; then looking at me with 
 smilinfj embarrassment, she told me that my 
 height exactly corresponded to that of her 
 son, whom she expected home lliat nis^ht 
 from a distant school. As he did not arrive 
 that nio^ht she tended and served me with a 
 loving cordiality, as if to make amends to 
 herself for tlie disappointment of his ab- 
 sence. The dainties which she had pre- 
 pared for him she bestowed on me, and 
 next morning she packed up a supply of 
 provisions, procured me a place in the dili- 
 gence, wrapped me up carefully against 
 frost and rain, and refusing to impoverish 
 my scanty purse by taking any payment, 
 dismissed me with tender admonitions and 
 motherly farewells. Yet all this kindness 
 was bestowed, not on rae, but on the image 
 
THE FIRESIDE. 169 
 
 of her absent son ! Such Is a mother's 
 heart! lean not describe the feeUngs with 
 which I lefi the village. My whole being 
 was in a strange delicious confusion." And 
 in point of fact that motherly embrace had 
 opened in the bosom of the orphan boy the 
 fountain of pleasant fancies and noble feelings 
 which have rendered Henry Zchokke the 
 most popular story-writer, and one of the 
 ti'uest patriots, in all his fatherland. It was 
 the only night when he had ever known a 
 home, and from that brief hour he carried 
 enough away to give a friendly aspect to 
 mankind, and a joyful purpose to his future 
 life. 
 
 And, like the kind hostess, your own 
 heart is full of motherly affection. Let it 
 freely forth. Let your children feel how 
 fondly you yearn toward them, and what a 
 delight it is to you to see and make them 
 happy. This affection is a logic which the 
 dullest can understand, and it will insure 
 the swiftest compliance with your wishes. 
 15 
 
170 THE HAPPT HOME. 
 
 This cord of love is of arfl chains the longest 
 lasting; the most vicious can not break it, 
 and even when you yourself are mouldering 
 in the cla} it will moor the wayward spirit 
 to your memory, and keep it from much 
 sin. Therefore, see to it — not only that 
 you love them, but that you make them 
 conscious of your lovingness. 
 
 And then, by the attraction of your own 
 tenderness, seek to draw them into ihe love 
 of God. If your own be the right religion, 
 the living God will be your chiefest joy. 
 You will look up to him as your father and 
 friend, and will desire to move through your 
 dwelling and travel through the world in the 
 light of his constant complacency. And if 
 you have got this length — if through the 
 great Atonement you have got into the peace 
 of God — there will be Bible lessons in all 
 you do, and a living gospel in your gentle 
 looks. Your children will perceive that to 
 love God is the true way to be happy, and 
 whatever else it may accomplish, they will 
 learn to associate the religion of Jesus with 
 
THE FIRESIDE. 171 
 
 a dear parent's shining face and blameless 
 walk. 
 
 But, after all, if you wish to exert a hal- 
 lowing influence on your children now, and 
 if you would see them give themselves to 
 God in the dew of their youth, you must 
 abound in prayer as your surest and most 
 unfailing resource. We speak of adamant 
 and other substances as hard to fuse ; we 
 forget that the hardest of all is human will. 
 To bring the will of your little child to the 
 bending or melting point, needs a softening 
 poW' r none other than the grace of God. 
 We speak of locks which are hard to open ; 
 we foro-et that the most intricate of all is the 
 heart of man. It has wards and windings 
 into which even a mother's love can not in- 
 sinuate, and of which God's spirit only 
 knows the way. And wherefore is it that 
 God has given you this vehement solicitude 
 for your children's souls, while at the same 
 time he shows you that you can not there 
 introduce the truths which you love, nor 
 there enshrine the Saviour whom you your- 
 
172 THE HAPPT HOME. 
 
 self adore ? Wherefore, but to shut you 
 up in lowly dependence and earnest expec- 
 tancy to Him who hath the key of David, 
 and who, when his set time comes, will 
 open the door and take conclusive posses- 
 sion ? And surely, among all the suppli- 
 cations which reach the mercy-seat, there 
 is none more welcome than the cry of a be- 
 lieving parent for her darling child. Sure- 
 ly, there is none which the great High Priest 
 will present with a more gracious alacrity, 
 or the God and Father of our Lord Jesus 
 hear with a more divine benignity. And 
 of all the petitions filed in the court of 
 heaven, there is surely none less likely to 
 be forgotten, nor one which, should you 
 meanwhile quit this praying-ground, you 
 may leave more confidently to the care 
 and love of your Advocate within the vail. 
 But by far the happiest home is that whose 
 heads, like Zacharias and Elisabeth, are of 
 one mind, and who walk in the statutes and 
 ordinances of God together. Tn that case, 
 you will be able to take counsel together, 
 
THE FIRESIDE. 173 
 
 and aid one another in the anxious business 
 of teaching and training your children. 
 Your prayers on their behalf will ascend in 
 concert. The example of the one will not 
 neutralize the instructions of the other ; and 
 whichsoever is first summoned away vVill 
 have the comfort of knowing that the \^ork 
 will not stop when their teacher dies. 
 
 Having, therefore, said so much to wives 
 and mothers, we may perhaps be allowed, 
 ere closing this number, to offer a few 
 friendly hints to fathers and husbands. But 
 what better hints can we tender than the 
 plain directions given in the Bible long 
 ago? 
 
 That Bible bids married people be mu- 
 tually respectful. It requires the wife to 
 *' reverence her husband," and the husband 
 is enjoined to " give honor to the wife." 
 One day, when Oberlin was eighty years 
 of age, in climbing a mountain he was 
 obliged to lean on his son-in-law, while his 
 wife, less infirm, walked behind by herself. 
 But, meeting some of his parishioners, the 
 15* 
 
174 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 good pastor felt so awkward at this appa- 
 rent lack of i^allantry, that he stopped to 
 explain the reason. Was it not a fine 
 fejiture in the old \vortl)y's character, and 
 would it not be well for the world if it con- 
 tained more of this Christian chivalry? 
 Would it not be well if it contained more 
 of those hallowed unions, where people 
 see to the last with the same admirini^ and 
 affectionate eyes with which they first 
 learned to love one another? And would 
 there not be more of these unions if people 
 learned to love one another " in the Lord" — 
 if the attachment wliich ori urinated in good 
 sense, and congenial taste, and moral worth, 
 were perpetuated in Christian principle? 
 Piety softens the feelings and refines the 
 sentiments. It renders its possessor "cour- 
 teous and kindly affectioned." And of 
 that courtesy and kind affection, who is 
 the rightful object, if it be not his nearest 
 earthly frit^nd ? 
 
 On a Saturday night you may have no- 
 ticed a firm-built fellow stalking along, with 
 
THE FIRESIDE. 175 
 
 his pipe in his cheek and his hands in his 
 pockets, while a forlorn creature limped after 
 him, shifting from one tired arm to another 
 the laden market-basket. And in choosing 
 a companion for life, you were sorry that 
 the lazy rascal had not thought of a donkey. 
 But you spent the next hour with a shop- 
 mate in his own abode ; and whether it 
 were to display the meekness of his wan 
 and timid consort, or to give you an august 
 idea of himself as a lord of creation, you 
 can not tell ; but he always spoke to her 
 with such fierce contempt and vengeful bit- 
 terness, that you felt, Happy cobbler's lap- 
 stone ! Happy torn slipper, adorning but 
 not confining that cobbler's fantastic toe ! 
 Happy target on which the steam-gun flat- 
 tens fifty balls per minute ! Happy anvil 
 on which Vulcan repaired old thunderbolts! 
 Happy all the things which people thump 
 and thwack and tread upon ! Happier than 
 helpless woman with feelings thus down- 
 trampled ! Happier than the wife whose 
 weary lot it is to be the anvil of an angry 
 
176 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 temper, the target of a fiery tongue ! Yea, 
 happier she who, like Indian squaw, lugs 
 at her master's heels the heavy load, her- 
 self the truck and dray — the porter and 
 parcel-van ! 
 
 It filled you with burning indignation ; 
 and we esteem you none the less for that 
 manly shame. It assures us that, in your 
 own dwelling, we shall not find you the 
 cold-hearted or coarse-minded despot; and 
 it tells us that you are blessed with a part- 
 ner whom you are proud " to have and 
 to hold, to love and to cherish." " Oh, 
 well is thee, and happy shalt thou be." 
 Happy are you to retain the refinement and 
 elevation of character, and the youthful- 
 ness of affection, which make the husband 
 still the lover ; and happy are you to have 
 a wife so true, and wise, and self-denied, 
 that to care for her comfort and share her 
 society are still as delightful as when first 
 she gave you her troth. 
 
 And yet, dear sirs, how hard it is to reach 
 the Bible standard of conjugal devoted- 
 
THE FIRESIDE. 177 
 
 ness ! So lofty is that standard, that it 
 seems fitter for a pulpit text than for quota- 
 tion in this familiar paper. *' Husbands, love 
 your wives, even as Christ loved the church, 
 and gave himself for it, that he might sanc- 
 tify it, and present it to himself a glorious 
 church, not having spot or wrinkle, or any 
 such thing ; but that it should be holy and 
 without blemish." Think of this. The 
 Saviour loved the church in order to make 
 it holy. His love was not only self-sacri- 
 ficing, but it was hallowing. Its tendency 
 and effect were to make its objects better. 
 And those who are joined in your sacred 
 relation are to take this divine example as 
 the model of their love. You must seek 
 the improvement of one another. The 
 consciousness of sins and defects in his dis- 
 ciples did not cool toward them the Saviour's 
 affection. It only excited his tender saga- 
 city and faithful skill to attempt their remo- 
 val ; and by gracious methods, one by one, 
 he cured their infirmities. There was no 
 arrogance in his tone, no disdain in his 
 
178 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 spirit ; no liasie nor vexation in his man- 
 ner ; but so mollifying was his gentleness, 
 and so mild was his sanctity, that when he 
 healed the fault he did not hurt the feelings. 
 And had we something of his high purpose, 
 there would be little danger of affection de- 
 caying. There would be' no risk of fault- 
 finding, and no temptation to connive at 
 sin. Reproofs would not break tlie head ; 
 and there would be no longer need that love 
 should be blind. 
 
 And let us hope that you will contribute 
 a father's authority to a mother's tenderness 
 in the effort to bring up a devout and pious 
 family. We trust that there is no need to 
 inscribe the deprecating sentence on your 
 door.* We trust that yours is a family 
 which calls upon God's name. Teach 
 your children to be loving and generous to 
 one another, and promptly obedient to their 
 
 * Alluding to the words chalked on the doors of in- 
 fected houses during the plaj^ue of London, Philip Hen- 
 ry used to say, " If the worship of God be not in the 
 house, write, ' Lord, have mercy upon us !' on the 
 door." 
 
THE FIRESIDE. 179 
 
 mother and you. Seek to fill their minds 
 with veneration of God, and with early ab- 
 horrence of sin. See to it that your own 
 conductbe obviously ruled by Bible maxims, 
 and let your appeal be direct and freijuent 
 " to the law and to the testimony." Sustain 
 no frivolous excuse for absence at the hour 
 of prayer, and try by all means to endear 
 the sanctuary. Like the good citizen, sung 
 by transatlantic bard :* — 
 
 " His hair is crisp, and black, and long, 
 His foce is like the tan ; 
 His brow IS wet with honest sweat, 
 
 He earns whate'er he can, 
 And looks the whole world in the face, 
 For he owes not any man. 
 
 " He goes on Sunday to the church. 
 And sits among his boys ; 
 He hears the parson pray and preach ; 
 
 He hears his daughter's voice 
 Singing in the village choir, 
 And it makes his heart rejoice." 
 
 Which leads us to notice, lastly, that 
 nothing makes the fireside so cheerful as ^ 
 * Longfellow's " Village JtJlacksmith." 
 
180 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 blessed hope beyond it. Even when you 
 sit most lovini^ly there — though the daily 
 task is completely done, and the infant in 
 the cradle is fast asleep — though this is 
 Saturday night, and to-morrow is the day 
 of rest — though the embers are bright, and 
 from its fat and poppling fountain in yon 
 coal the jet of gas flames up like a silver 
 cimiter; and though within your little 
 chamber all is peace, and warmth, and snug 
 repose — the roaring gusts and ratding drops 
 remind you that it still is winter in the world. 
 A.nd when that withered leaf tapped and 
 fluttered on the window, mother, why was 
 it that your cheek grew pale, and some- 
 thing glistened in your eye? You thought 
 it perhaps might come from the churchyard 
 sycamore, and it sounded like a messenger 
 from little Helen's grave. It said, "Father 
 and mother, think of me." Yes, dreary 
 were the homes of earth were it not for the 
 home in Heaven. But see to it that your- 
 selves be the Saviour's followers, and then 
 to you he says, " Let not your heart be 
 
THE FIRESIDE. 181 
 
 troubled ! In my Father's house are manj 
 mansions : I go to prepare a place for you." 
 And when you come to love that Saviour 
 rightly, you will love one another better, 
 moie truly, and more tenderly. And, 
 trusting to meet again in that world where . 
 they neither marry nor are given in mar- 
 riage, a purifying hope and a lofty affection 
 will hallow your union on earth. And, if 
 not inscribed above your mantel-shelf, there 
 will at least be written in your deepest self 
 the motto, sent to his bride by that illustrious 
 scholar, Bengel : — 
 
 " Jesus in heaven ; 
 Jesus in the heart ; 
 Heaven in the heart; 
 The heart in heaven." 
 
 16 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 Caspar Rauchbilder was a German, 
 abstruse of mind, and able of body. From 
 his ancestors he inherited a blond complex- 
 ion and a talent for boilin": siio^ar, so that he 
 had no trouble in acquirinji; either. His 
 calling he piir^^ued far eastward of London's 
 famous lower, somewhere near the docks, 
 and where many chimneys feed the murky 
 air of Wappino;. But the thick atmosphere 
 suited Caspar's thouichtful turn ; it favored 
 mental abstraction, and kept aloof tho-;e 
 obtrusive materialisms which he deemed 
 the main obstacles to transcendental dis- 
 covery. His favorite motto was, " Ex 
 fiano dare luce?n ;^^* and, in order to en- 
 hance the partial opacity of his abode, he 
 plied a perpetual meerschaum. He used 
 to say that it was no wonder that the ^^yp- 
 
 * "Smoke is the sire of light;" — a witty allusion U, 
 the lampblack in printers' ink. 
 

 LOSING BY RELIGION 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 183 
 
 tians were the wisest nation of antiquity, 
 after three days of such glorious darkness 
 as they had once enjoyed ; and he often 
 thought that if, like a celebrated lawyer, he 
 could live in a cavern, he would yet be 
 able to throw some light on the world. 
 
 It was the ninth of November, and Cas- 
 par's more frivolous companions had gone 
 to the lord-mayor's show. They went, 
 but they saw it not. Like the railway 
 train, which dives from rustic gaze into the 
 heart of a mountain, the show was tunnel- 
 ing its invisible progress through the heart 
 of a London fog, and it was only by the 
 snort of trombones and the racket of drums 
 that Cockaigne was conscious when civic 
 majesty passed along. Our sage found 
 higher employment for the holyday. Just 
 as the candle in a sixpenny cathedral — 
 such as Italian stucco merchants display 
 on area-rails — just as that candle begins to 
 come red and green through the colored 
 windows, when evening shrouds the city, 
 and street-lamps are being lit, so Caspar 
 
184 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 was conscious this misly day of bright 
 gleams in his censorinm; and he deter- 
 mined on improving the inward light. Be- 
 fore the fire he hung a shaggy coat, which 
 he called a bosom friend ; and it deserved 
 the name. The bosom friend was some- 
 what damp, for the fog had beaded all the 
 nap with a dirty dew. And on the table 
 Caspar placed a German sausage and a 
 dish of Hamburg kraut. But, ere clog- 
 ging his faculties with this slight refection, 
 our philosopher thought good to improve 
 the fit of inward clear-seeing with which 
 he then and there felt visited. Accord- 
 inujly, settling down in his easy chair, and 
 inspissating the atmosphere with volumes 
 of tobacco, he began to see his way through 
 the system of the universe. 
 
 And it was not long before the sugar- 
 boiler beheld himself a social reformer. 
 He recollected how often he had seen the 
 gray or ^'ellow dust arrive at their factory, 
 and leave it the brilliant sugar-loaf. And 
 in that raw article he viewed an emblem 
 
DAT-DREAMS 185 
 
 of human nature, as it comes from the 
 hand of priests and princes, and in that 
 sugar-loaf he saw human nature as it quits 
 the mill of the philosopher. There is first 
 the boiling in vacuo. He would put soci- 
 ety into the caldron, but would be careful 
 not to raise the temperature above hot 
 water. And, in order to secure a perfect 
 vacuum, he would relieve it of all preju- 
 dices and all property. He would pump 
 off those national codes and positive faiths 
 which now weigh with tremendous pres- 
 sure on the human soul ; and as soon as 
 that was accomplished, it would be the 
 work of a moment to bring sentiment and 
 principle into a state of absolute solution — 
 the first object to be sought by a regenera- 
 tor of the social system. The next busi- 
 ness is to clarify the melted mass. Nothing 
 can be easier. " In our works," pursued 
 the seer, " have we not a filter of charred 
 bones? and have I not seen the current 
 pass into that strainer brown as sherry, and 
 quit it clear as crystal ? In like manner 
 16* 
 
186 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 let US burn the bones of the old beliefs and 
 the outworn decencies. Ha, ha ! they are 
 now but skeletons ! And from the ashes 
 we will make a filter, throu,^h which this 
 selfish age shall pass and emerge a new 
 moral world. And then, in order to pre- 
 serve this sweet sirup of refined humanity, 
 it must be caught in moulds, and consoli- 
 dated, and cast, and kept. For this pur- 
 pose, one recommends as the best form 
 pyramids, and Fourier doats about pha- 
 lanxes. But these simpletons had never 
 seen a sugar factory. Their purblind optics 
 were never blessed with the sight of an 
 unbroken sugar-loaf. Talk of circles, pha- 
 lanxes, and pyramids, as if nature abhorred 
 the cone ! Is it not the most comprehensive 
 of all figures, embodying the triangle, the 
 circle, the ellipse, the parabola, the hyper- 
 bola ? and the most graceful, suggesting at 
 once the solidity of the pyramid, and the 
 curving fullness of the sphere ? Away with 
 all compromise ! I vow to reconstruct 
 society on the only perfect model. I shall 
 
DAT-DilEAMS. 187 
 
 teach every man to be the lover of all, and 
 the friend of none; and this pure and 
 public-spirited product I shall fix — T shall 
 stert-otype. While yet fluent and limpid, 
 1 shall draw it off into moulds ready-made ; 
 and in cones of concord, in sugar-loaves 
 of sympathy, society will crystallize into 
 its final and perfect organization. And 
 sliould there settle down at the inverted 
 apex any dregs of the old system, is there 
 not the turninii-lathe to pare away the anti- 
 social feculence? All shall be alike tal- 
 ented, alike strong and healthy; and all 
 equally amiable, rich, and happy. Our 
 crest must be the sugar-cone; our motto, 
 
 SOLIDITY, SINCERITY, SUAVITY." 
 
 At this point of the specilaiion, there 
 mingled with the odor of meerschaum a 
 smell more akin to burning bones. It wns 
 not an old belief or an outworn morality, 
 but the peajacket too near the fire. The 
 bosom friend was burning. Caspar brushed 
 the singed and smoking nap, and put his 
 fingers through the brown and crumblhig 
 
188 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 skirt ; and, lighthig a lamp, he found that 
 a ueighboring cur had played an old prank, 
 and stolen the sausage during liis revery. 
 However, Caspar comforted himself. The 
 cur had stolen the sausage, but he had left 
 the sauer-kraut an-l the sugar-loaf iheory. 
 
 Should the reader be acquainted with any 
 of the works lately published on the organ- 
 ization of labor and tlie reconstruction of 
 society, he will not laugh at the reveries of 
 Caspar Rauchbilder. Nor will he expect 
 us to refute them. If it be idle work to 
 build castles in the air, it is idle work be- 
 siett^ino- them. 
 
 We know, however, that such specula- 
 tions are interesting to two classes of read- 
 ers. There are some profligate persons 
 who catch at everything which puts good 
 for evil, or which offers to relieve them from 
 moral obligation. They are tired of their 
 wives and children; they are tired of work- 
 ing ; they are tired of honesty ; they would 
 fain be fingering the hard-earned savings of 
 their fellow-laborers ; and they do not like 
 
DAT-DEKAMS. 189 
 
 the Christian ordinance, " If any man will 
 not work, neither shall lie eat." They 
 would be glad to have the pocket of the 
 shadowless man, so that if hungry they might 
 prod uce a tray with green pease and smoking 
 cutlets, or if drowsy they might put in their 
 hand and pull out a posted bed with its 
 blankets. But as the shadowless man will 
 not part with his pocket, they will be con- 
 tent, as next best, to eat their neighbor's 
 cutlet and sleep in their neighbor's blankets. 
 
 But besides the lazy and licentious, to 
 whom all such schemes are welcome, we 
 believe that at this moment many an indus- 
 trious man feels so unhappy, that he would 
 hail any change in the social system as a 
 possible change for the better. And if, like 
 us, he has read some of the glowing invec- 
 tives and prophecies of these eager specu- 
 lators, the wish may very naturally prove 
 father to the diought, and he may fancy that 
 nothing except a rearrangement of society 
 is needful to bring about a golden age. 
 
 We, too, are social reformers. We see 
 
190 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 many tliiniis which f]jrieve us. We see 
 much extravagance among the rich, and 
 much improvidence among the poor. We 
 see a great deal of pride and bitterness. 
 We see the pride of rank, which believes 
 that itself is porcelain and that common men 
 are clay. We see the bitterness of penury, 
 whicli resents the wealth of others as a crime, 
 and which deems it a proof of spirit to in- 
 sult a man of higher station. We see a 
 fearful amount of tyranny. We see the 
 tyranny of squires and capitalists, refusing 
 to their tenants and their servants the en- 
 joyment of the sabbath and freedom to wor- 
 ship God. And we see the tyranny of 
 working-men, compelling their fellows to 
 connive at crime, and enforcing compliance 
 with unreasonable rules, often by means of 
 the greatest cruelty. These things we know4^ 
 and we mourn over them. We long to see 
 them all redressed. We long to see the 
 rich less stiff, and reserved, and haughty. 
 We long to secure for cottages and cabins, 
 not only the Christmas dole, but the kind 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 191 
 
 words, and the friendly recognition, and the 
 occasional call- We long to see toleration 
 and fair play. We long to see industry and 
 a competency convertible terms ; and we 
 long to see the laborious classes kindly af- 
 fectioned one to another, and respectful of 
 the rights and the feelings of their hard- 
 working brethren. And on every side we 
 long to see more magnanimity, more confi- 
 dence, and more mutual forbearance. 
 
 But we have no faith in any social re- 
 form which overlooks the fact that man is a 
 fallen being. Though we had never read 
 it in the Bible, we think we could read it 
 in the world, that man is no longer what a 
 holy Creator made him. His heart is not 
 rig I it with God, nor is it right with his fel- 
 lows. And every ameliorating scheme 
 which overlooks this twofold depravity is 
 sure to end in frustration. 
 
 For many ages the mechanical world 
 labored to create a perpetual motion. As 
 soon as a man had learned a little algebra, 
 or a little of the art of engine-making, he 
 
192 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 attacked this doughty problem. And you 
 may have seen some of the quaint contri- 
 vances which resuhed from these attempts; 
 cylinders revolving to ever-falling weights 
 within them, and polished balls descending 
 a self-restoring incline. But as discovery 
 advanced, it was found that all these efforts 
 were based on a false assumption: that ihey 
 forgot the force called friction. And as 
 it is now generally conceded that the dis- 
 coverer of this sleepless mechanism will be 
 the first man who annihilates the attraction 
 of matter, perpetual motion is reserved for 
 the amusement of those eccentric geniuses 
 who are best kept from mischief by a per- 
 petual puzzle, and is seldom studied except 
 in such coUeiijes asHanwell and St. Luke's. 
 But the problem which has been aban- 
 doned in physics is now revived in the do- 
 main of ethics, and people ask, " How are 
 we to create within the race a constant 
 progress toward perfection ? Taking man 
 as he is, and taking such aids as he can 
 himself supply, how are we to abolish mis- 
 
liAT-DREAMS. 
 
 193 
 
 ery, and make the earth a f^erond paradi^^e?" 
 And many solutions have been offered. 
 The press teems \\ ill) tliem. One day last 
 summer we read the plan most popular. 
 The brilliant writer proposes that the work- 
 ing men of France should resolve them- 
 selves, or that government s' ould o;roup 
 them, into huge industrial families, for five 
 francs api<^ce working eiuht hours a day ; 
 leavino; it to each man's s nse of honor how 
 busily he shall labor, and requiring the 
 clever and the diligent to support the stupid 
 and the lazy. And when we read it, we 
 said to ourselves, " perpetual motion once 
 more ! This sanguine projector has over- 
 looked fri^'tion. The scheme miijht answer 
 with aniielic operatives; but if tried in a 
 world like ours, there are two things which 
 will bring it to a speedy stand-still : the one 
 is man's irreligion ; the other is his selfish- 
 ness. He would need to be a true philan- 
 thropist who would work with a steady eye 
 to his neighbor's welfare ; and he would 
 need to be a God-fearing man who would 
 17 
 
194 THE HAPPY HOIHE. 
 
 persist to labor when he knew that, if he 
 slept or played, his neighbors would labor 
 for him." And, curiously enotigh, the saine 
 day brought an American papt^rof May 13, 
 where, amonj^ other news, we read, '• While 
 socialism is going up in Europe, it is 2:oing 
 down in this country. The Northampton 
 association of industry was abandoned, af- 
 ter havino; incurred a debt of 40,000 dol- 
 lars, and Hopedale has relinquished the 
 community principle, and goes upon the 
 individual plan." And so must it ever be, 
 till the two ^rand obstacles are done away. 
 Till irreligion is exchanged for piety, and 
 till selfishness is superseded by brotherly 
 love, the world must proceed on the in- 
 dividual plan. And till then, Hopedale 
 must count on many disappointments, and 
 old Discord will resurr\e his reign in the halls 
 of each New Harmony. 
 
 Some people once built a bridge ; but it 
 was scarcely erected when it tumbled down. 
 They tried it a second time with no better 
 success. And a third time they changed 
 
I AY-DREAMS. 195 
 
 the plan, and took every precaution, and 
 allowed a long intt-rval for the mortar to 
 harden ; but no sooner had they removed 
 the centrings than up sprang the key-stone, 
 and in bulged the arches, and with a crash 
 and a pkmge the wholesale ruin poured 
 into the tide below. On this, a council of 
 practical men was convened. The archi- 
 tect came, armed wiih his plans so prettily 
 drawn, wliich he flourished as on a field- 
 day a marshal will flourish his baton. And 
 rival architects came, not so much to sug- 
 gest, as to enjoy a little quiet exultation. 
 But the man of skill, and the main hope of 
 the conclave, was a civil engineer from the 
 capital. For a long time he said nothing ; 
 but he had evidently scanned it all in a sin- 
 gle glance, and it was clear that he was on- 
 ly tracing symbols in the dust with his cane, 
 till the common herd had talked themselves 
 out, and he should be summoned to pro- 
 nounce his oracle. " Of course," was that 
 oracle, " the span is too wide, and tlie 
 ellipsis by far too eccentric." — " Impossi- 
 
196 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 ble !" said the horrified architect ; " the first 
 plan had arches as round as the Roman, 
 and it went like a house of cards." This 
 by no means shook the jiidf^ment of the 
 man of skill ; but it emboldened a plain 
 man, who once wrou^^ht as a mason ih that 
 country-side, but who had saved a little 
 money, and was now doing business on his 
 own behalf. " Truly, sirs, I wonder that 
 you think of nothing but arches, and abut- 
 ments, and spans. Just look at that brick ;" 
 and so saying, 'n his great hand he crushed 
 a fragment as if it were touchwood or toad- 
 stool. " I never knew a brick come from 
 these fields which would bear the weight 
 of its neighbor. It is not the fault of the 
 plan ; it is all the blame of the bricks." 
 And it would be well if projectors in politics 
 and morals adverted more to the strength 
 OF THEIR MATERIALS. Like bricks from 
 the same kiln, some specimens of human 
 nature may be better than others ; but in 
 buildinor a social structure for Britain or .the 
 world, you must look, not to picked sam- 
 
Da iT-DREAMS. 197 
 
 pies, but to the ordinary run. You must 
 look not to patriots, and saints, and the 
 martyrs of favorite schemes ; but you must 
 look at your neighbors, and your shopmates, 
 and the mass of your /ellow-tovvnsmen, and 
 say if you ar(" prepared to cast away all your 
 present securities for peace and comfort, 
 and fling yourself entirely on the honor of 
 each and the charities of all ? For if you 
 distrust your neighbors as they are, no new 
 arrangement into groups or ateliers, into 
 phalanxes or cones, will make them trust- 
 worthy. A few bad bricks will spoil the 
 finest arch; but the finest arch will not con- 
 vert to marble or adamant blocks of untem- 
 pered clay. 
 
 We love our fellow-men, and we long for 
 their greater happiness ; but so profoundly 
 do we believe that " the imagination of 
 man's heart is only evil" — so persuaded 
 are we that our world, as yet, contains lit- 
 tle loyalty to God, and little love of man to 
 man — that we have no faith in any self- 
 restoring system. It is not a new construc- 
 17* 
 
198 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 tion which society needs, so much as new 
 material. Nor can we promise ourselves a 
 political millennium. Doubtless it is the 
 duty of every citizen to give efficiency to 
 such good government as he enjoys ; and 
 it is the duty of every state to aim at con- 
 stitutional optimism ; to seek such a code 
 of laws, and such a distribution of power, 
 as will make it en-iest for tlie citizens to 
 do what is rio^ht, and mo-t difficult to do 
 what is wrong. But there is no tuagic in 
 political change. No form of government — 
 republican, reprpsentative, or despotic — 
 can cure the real complaint of our species. 
 No law can change vice into virtue, or give 
 to guilt the joys of innocence. No ruler 
 can make the atheist happy, or kindle a 
 blessed hope in that mephitic mind which 
 has quenched its own lamp of immortality. 
 When Hercules put on the poisoned robe, 
 it did not matter where he went : no change 
 of climate, no breezy height, no balmy sky 
 could lull the venom in his fiery veins. 
 Restless and roaming, he wandered to and 
 
DAT-DREAMS. 199 
 
 fro, and raged at everything; but the real 
 quarrel was with his tainted self, aijd the 
 change which woidd have relieved his mis- 
 ery would have been a migration from his 
 own writhing; nerves and stoundin"; bones. 
 And let a man of idle or immoral habits, or 
 let an ill-assorted family, try all the consti- 
 tutions in the world — or let a new consti- 
 tution come to their own country once 
 a-year — and they will soon discover that to 
 a guilty conscience, or a dissolute charac- 
 ter, political day-springs bring no healing. 
 Legislation contains no charm — no spell 
 for converting personal or domestic wretch- 
 edness into virtue and tranquillity; and so 
 long as a man is entangled in his own cor- 
 ruption — so long as he wears the poisoned 
 vest of inherent depravity — "he may 
 change the place, but he can not cheat the 
 pain." 
 
 Is there, then, you will ask, no hope for 
 society? Is the present routine of selfish- 
 ness, oppression, and suffering, to go on 
 for ever? Assuredly not. But it will 
 
200 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 come to an end in no other way except 
 that which God has designed and foretold. 
 It will end when he himself interposes. 
 Till then, visionaries, amiable or atheistic, 
 may each propound his panacea; but, alas ! 
 the plague of society is too virulent for any 
 medicine native to our earth. And no 
 doubt elaborate attempts will be made, and 
 associations will be formed, with a view to 
 counteract the dispersive elements in hu- 
 man nature. Influential leaders, poetical 
 statesmen, and discarded projectors, will 
 say, " Go to, let us build us a city and a 
 tower, whose top may reach unto heaven, 
 and let us make us a name, lest we be scat- 
 tered abroad upon the face of the whole 
 earth ;" but the feuds and the jargon which 
 confounded the plain of Shinar, will prove 
 fatal to Babel the Second. And it is not 
 till the Prince of Peace shall commence 
 his reign of righteousness, and, simulta- 
 neous with his enthronement, the Spirit of 
 God shall mollify the minds of men, that 
 *' violence" shall vanish from our earth, 
 
DAT-DREAMS. 201 
 
 and '* wasting and destruction" from within 
 its borders. And when that day comes — 
 wlien, by the direct interference of the 
 Holy Spirit, man's enmity to God is con- 
 verted into allegiance and love, and man's 
 selfishness is drowned in kindness and good- 
 will — many of the results for which men at 
 present sigh will no longer need perilous 
 experiments, but will develop of their own 
 accord. When the years are all one pen- 
 tecost, and the world one Christian family, 
 none will lack, and, if they please, people 
 may then have " all things in common."* 
 " For as the earth brinireth forth her bud, 
 and as the garden causeth the things that 
 are sown in it to spring forth ; so the Lord 
 God will cause righteousness and praise to 
 spring forth before all the nations." 
 
 And, in the meanwhile, the reader may 
 secure his own happiness without overturn- 
 ing an empire or new-moulding society. 
 Like Caspar Rauchbilder, you run the risk 
 of losing some solid and immediate advan- 
 * Acts ii. and iv. 
 
202 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 tastes, while musing on remote and whole- 
 sale reformations. The present state of 
 society may be vicious; but, in the most 
 essential matters, your Creator has rendered 
 you independent of society. By making 
 you thQ custodier of your own soul, he has 
 made you the keeper of your own comfort. 
 And if you be wise, you will go so far on 
 the individual plan as to study the gospel, 
 and seek the one thing needful for yourself. 
 So far as you are concerned, that gospel is 
 a personal message. To you and me, my 
 brother, God ofFer.^ a personal salvation. 
 And if we believe that gospel, and live 
 godly, righteous, and sober in the world, 
 whatever be the state of society, we shall 
 secure our personal happiness here and 
 hereafter. Perhaps, too, we shall then be 
 able to do something in order to mitigate 
 the misery and increase the happiness of 
 those around us. 
 
THE PIT.GRIM AND THE PITCHERS. 
 
 Pase 207. 
 
FIRE-FLTES. 
 
 In the New World's warmer forests they 
 find great numbers of a shining fly ;* and 
 so plentiful is their light that people often 
 turn them to useful purposes. A friend of 
 our own, when his ship lay anchored ofFthe 
 coast, had occasion to search for a book in 
 the cabin overnight, and recollecting that 
 two of these living lanterns were enclosed 
 in a pill-box, with their aid he ran over the 
 titles of the different volumes, till he found 
 the one he wanted. The natives often keep 
 a few in a vial, to guide them at little turns 
 of household work ; and as there is no dan- 
 ger of their causing combustion, travellers 
 sometimes put one of these vials along 
 with their watch, and under their pillow. 
 
 Of such tiny lights we now send the 
 reader a specimen. It is not the object of 
 * Elater noctilucus, a sort of beetle. 
 
204 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 these tracts to o^ive a system of theoloory, 
 but we should be glad if we could impart 
 the A B C of Christianity; and in study- 
 ing its early lessons, our fire-flies may lend 
 a little light. Thankful should we be if 
 they proved of service to any one journey- 
 ing in the dark, and perplexed about his 
 road; or if they shed a ray. however feeble, 
 on any sentence of God's own word. And 
 though grown people may despise them, 
 we are not without the hope that, like the 
 flying lamps in Chili, they may find favor 
 with your boys and girls. 
 
 THE PILGRIMS AND THEIR PITCHERS. 
 
 It was long ago, and somewhere in the 
 eastern clime. The king came into the 
 garden and called the children round him. 
 He led them up to a sunny knoll and a leafy 
 arbor on its summit. And when they had 
 all sat down, he said, " You see far down 
 the river, and hanging as on the side of the 
 hill, yon palace? It is a palace — though 
 
FIRE-FLIES. 205 
 
 here it looks so little and far away. But 
 when you reach it you will find it a larger 
 and sweeter home ttian this: and when you 
 come you will find that I have got there be- 
 fore you. And when you arrive at the 
 gate, that they may know that you belong 
 to me, and may let you in, here is what 
 each of you must take with him." And he 
 gave to each of the children a most beauti- 
 ful alabaster jar — a little pitcher so ex- 
 quisitely fashioned that you were almost 
 afraid to touch it, so pure that you coidd 
 see the dayliij;ht through it, and with deli- 
 cate figures raised on its sides " Take 
 this, and carry it carefully. Walk steadily, 
 and the journey will soon be over." But 
 they had not gone far before they forgot. 
 One was running carelessly and looking 
 over his shoulder, when his foot stumbled, 
 and a-; he fell full length on the stony path 
 the pitcher was shivered in a thousand 
 pi 'ces ; and one way and another, long, 
 loiiii before they reached the palace, they 
 had biokeu all the pitchers. When this 
 18 
 
206 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 happened I may mention what some of them 
 did. Some grow sulky, and knowing that 
 it was of no use to go forward without the 
 token, they hei^an to shatter the fragments 
 still smaller, and dashed the broken sherds 
 among the stones, and stamped them with 
 their feet ; and then they said, " Why 
 trouble ourselves about this palace? It is 
 far away, and here is a pleasant spot. We 
 will ju-t stay here and play." And so they 
 began to play. Another could not play, 
 but sat wringing his hands, and weeping 
 bitterly. Another grew pale at first, but 
 recovered his composure a little on obser- 
 ving that his pitcher was not broken so bad 
 as some others. There were three or four 
 large pieces, and these he put together as 
 well as he could. It was a broken pitcher 
 that could hold no water, but by a little 
 care he could keep it together ; and so he 
 gathered courage, and began to walk along 
 more cautiously. Just then, a voice ac- 
 costed the weeping boy, and looking up he 
 saw a very lovely form, with a sweet and 
 
FIRE-FLIES. 207 
 
 pleasant countenance — such a countenance 
 as is accustomed to be happy, though some- 
 thing for the present has made it sad. And 
 in hi:^ hand he held just such a pitcher as 
 the little boy had broken, only the work- 
 manship was more exquisite, and the colors 
 were as bright as the rainbow round the 
 stranger's head. "You may have it," he 
 said ; " it is better than the one you have 
 lost, and though it is not the same, they will 
 know it at the gate." The little mourner 
 could scarcely believe that it was really 
 meant for him ; but the kind looks of the 
 stranger encouraged him. He held out his 
 hand for the stranger's vase, and gave a 
 sob of joyful surprise when he found it his 
 own. He began his journey again, and 
 you would have liked to see how tenderly 
 he carried his treasure, and how carefully 
 he picked his steps, and how sometimes, 
 when he gave another look at it, the tear 
 would fill his eye, and he lifted up his hap- 
 py thankful face to heaven. The stranger 
 made the same offer to the playing boys, 
 
208 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 Dut by this time they were so bent on their 
 new amusements, that they did not care for 
 it. Some saucy children said, he might lay 
 his present down and leave it there if he 
 liked, and they would take it when they 
 wanted it. He passed away, and spoke to 
 the boy who was carrying the broken pitch- 
 er. At first he would have denied that it 
 was broken, but the traveller's clear glance 
 had already seen it all ; and so he told him, 
 " You had better cast it away, and have this 
 one in its stead." The boy would have 
 been very glad to have this new one, but to 
 throw away the relics of his own was what 
 he could never think of. They were his 
 chief dependence every time he thought of 
 the journey's end ; so he thanked the 
 stranger, and clasped his fragments firmer. 
 The boy with the gift-pitcher and this other 
 reached the precincts of the palace about 
 the same time. They stood for a little and 
 looked on. They noticed some of the 
 bright-robed inhabitants going out and in, 
 and every time they passed the gate, they 
 
FIRE-FLIES. 209 
 
 presented such a token as they themselves 
 had once got from the king, but had broken 
 so long ago. The boy who had accepted 
 the kind stranger's present now went for- 
 ward, and held it up; and whether it was 
 the light glancing on it from the pearly gate, 
 I can not tell, but at that instant its owner 
 thought that it had never looked so fair. 
 He who kept the gate seemed to think the 
 same, for he gave a friendly smile, as much 
 as to say, " I know who gave you that;" 
 and immediately the door was lifted up and 
 let the little pilgrim in. The boy with the 
 broken pitcher now began to wish that his 
 choice had been the same ; but there was 
 no help for it now. He adjusted the frag- 
 ments as skilfully as he could, and trying 
 to lo k courageous, carried them in both 
 his hands. But he who kept the gate was 
 not to be deceived. He shook his head, 
 and there was that sorrow in his look which 
 leaves no hope. The bearer of the broken 
 pitcher still held fast his useless sherds, 
 and lingered long. But no one took any 
 18* 
 
210 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 notice of him, or felt the smallest pity for 
 him ; and though he made many efforts, 
 every time he approached the door it seem- 
 ed of itself to shut again.* 
 
 THE ROYAL FEAST. 
 
 A CERTAIN king prepared a feast in hon- 
 or of his dear and only son. And the first 
 invitations he issued to tiie noble- oi ihe 
 laud, and some ancienl families who had 
 been long in favor with the prince. But 
 when the appointed !iour arrived a sulky fit 
 had seized them, and, as if by previous con- 
 cert, scarcely one of them appeared. But 
 
 * Perhaps you will understand this story by laying 
 the following texts together : — 
 
 " Without holiness no man shall see the Lord." — Heb. 
 xii. 14. 
 
 " God made man upright." — Eccl. vii. 29. 
 
 " All have sinned and come short of the glory of 
 God."— Rom. iii. 23. 
 
 " All the world is guilty before God. And by the 
 deeds of the law there shall no flesh be justified in his 
 sight."— Rom. iii. 19, 20. 
 
 " But now THE RiGHTEOtrsNESs OF Gofi is manifest- 
 ed ; even the righteousness of God which is by faith of 
 Jesus Christ, unto all and upon all them that believe. 
 
FIRE-FLIES. 211 
 
 resolved that his munificence should not 
 be lost, nor the honor intended for his son 
 defeated, and as all the people there around 
 were equally his subjects, he said to his 
 servants, '• The feast is ready, but the guests 
 are not come. Go into the streets and 
 hedges, and bring in whomsoever you find.*' 
 Forth went the servants, and great was the 
 wonder when they announced their errand. 
 A poor laborer was returning from his work, 
 and having got no wages from his master, 
 was trudging wearily home to his empty 
 cupboard, when the king's messenger hailed 
 him, and told him that a feast was prepared 
 for him. After the first gaze of incredulity, 
 
 Being justified freely by his grace, through the redemp- 
 tion that is in Christ Jesus : whom God hath set forth 
 to be a propitiation, through faith in his blood." — Rom. 
 iii. 21, 22, 24, 25. 
 
 " Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace 
 with God through our Lord Jesus Christ: by whom 
 also we have access by faith into this grace wherein we 
 stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God." — Rom. 
 V. 1, 2. 
 
 " But they being ignorant of God's righteous- 
 NESs, and going aoout to establish their own righteous- 
 ness, have not submitted themselves unto the righteous- 
 ness of God." — Rom. x. 3. 
 
212 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 finding that he carried this commission from 
 his king, and was really in earnest, the poor 
 laborer turned his steps toward the palace. 
 The next was a cripple, who sat by the 
 wayside, begging. He had gathered little 
 that day, when the messenger told him he 
 would find a feast at the palace, and the 
 kin^ desired to see him. The lame man 
 had heard that something remarkable was 
 going on at the court, and that the king 
 was giving an entertainment in honor of 
 some special event in his son's history ; 
 and though he expected no more than a 
 loaf of bread and a flagon of wine at the 
 gate, as he knew that the king was of a 
 very sumptuous and gracious disposition, 
 he did not hesitate, but raised himself on 
 his crutches, got up, and hobbled away. 
 Then the messenii;er came to a shady lane, 
 down which a retired old gendeman lived 
 on a small spot of ground of his own. The 
 messenger had far more trouble with him. 
 It was not so much that he questioned the 
 message, or that he did not like the invita- 
 
FIRE-FLIES. 213 
 
 tion, but that he was annoyed at its abrupt- 
 ness and his own want of preparedness. 
 He asked if there were to be no more in- 
 vitations issued next week, or if there were 
 no possibility of postponing the visit till the 
 following evening ; for, considering his sta^ 
 tion in society, he would like to appear in 
 his best, and could have been glad of a lit- 
 tle leisure to get all things in order. " How- 
 ever," said the messenger, " you know the 
 custom of our court — the king provides 
 the robes of state — all things are ready, 
 come away ;" and as he posted on, the old 
 householder thought that rather than run 
 any risk, he had better go at on-ce — though 
 some noticed that as he passed along he 
 occasionally eyed his thread-bare garment 
 with a look that seemed to say, he could 
 have put on better, had longer time been 
 allowed him. Then at the palace it was 
 interesting to see liow the different parties 
 acted. According to the custom of that 
 country, and more especially after the mag- 
 nificent manner of that king, each guest was 
 
B14 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 furnished on his arrival with a gorgeous 
 robe. They were all alike, exceeding rich 
 and costly ; and, the moment he came up, 
 one was handed to each new-comer, and he 
 put it on, and pa-^sed in to the dazzling 
 banquet-hall. Some awkward persons, who 
 did not know the usage of the place, and 
 who had carried with them the mean no- 
 tions which they learned among the high- 
 ways and hedges, scrupled to receive these 
 shining robes, and asked what price they 
 must pay for them. And one individual was 
 observed to come in with rather better attire 
 than the rest, and when offered a robe of 
 the king's providing, he politely declined 
 it, and stepped forward into the state-apart- 
 ments. He was no sooner there than he 
 rued his vanity — for his faded tinsel con- 
 trasted fearfully with the clothing of wrought 
 gold in which the other guests were arrayed. 
 However, instead of going back to get it 
 changed, he awaited the issue. All things 
 were ready ; the folding-doors opened, and 
 from chambers all-radiant with purest light, 
 
FIRE-FLIES. 215 
 
 and redolent of sweetest odors, amidst a 
 joyful train the king stepped in to see the 
 company. A frown for a moment darken- 
 ed liis majestic brow as he espied tiie pre- 
 sumptuous guest, but the intruder that in- 
 stant vanished ; and, with a benignity which 
 created in every soul such a joy as it had 
 never felt before — with a look which con- 
 ferred nobility wherever it alighted, and a 
 smile that awakened immortality in every 
 bosom — he bade them welcome to the 
 ivory palace, and told them to forget their 
 father's house and their poor original, for 
 he meant to make them princes every one, 
 and as there were many mansions in the 
 house they should there abide for ever.* 
 
 THE BLASTED BOWER. 
 
 Thousands of years ago, there lived a 
 prince-philosopher. In his youth he was 
 
 * See Matt. xxii. 1-14; and Luke xiv. 15-24; 
 and compare them with Isaiah xxv. 6, Iv. 1-3 ; Phil, 
 iii. 8, 9; Rev. iii. 17, 18. 
 
216 THE HAPPT HOME. 
 
 single-hearted and devout. He loved to 
 pray, and the beautiful hymns which his 
 father had written he deli:,^hted to -^ing, and 
 he made some of his own as beautiful. 
 And the Most High God loved this pious 
 prince, and prospered him wonderfully. 
 And as, harp in hand, he sat on one of the 
 knolls of Zion singing Jehovah's praise, 
 there began to sprout and bourgeon from 
 the soil sweet scents and brilliant blossoms ; 
 and as the psalm proceeded, the vines and 
 creepers mounted, and the tendrils took 
 hold of one another, till they mantled over- 
 head, and the minstrel sang in a nest of 
 flowers. The young prince was very fond 
 of this alcove, and spent in it many a sultry 
 noon. But, by-and-by, he began to love 
 God less, and soon forgot him altogether. 
 He did not care to sing psalms and pray; 
 and a bad wife taught him to worship her 
 god. It was a gilded idol, shaped like a 
 beautiful woman ; and this silly man said 
 his prayers to this image of gold. And at 
 last he took the image into his beautiful 
 
FIRE-FLIES. 217 
 
 bower : but no sooner had It entered than 
 a shudder jiassed through the alcove, 
 ar^d every leaflet trembled. The jasmine 
 breathed sickly, the rose flung down its 
 petals, and the heart's-ease died. The 
 prince was much mortified. He vowed 
 that he would make the bower blossom 
 again. So he took a costly urn, and filled 
 it with a raio elixir — an infusion into 
 which he had melted music, and precious 
 gems, and daintiest delights — and poured 
 the voluptuous draught around the roots. 
 But without effect: all continued bare and 
 blighted. Then he filled the urn with 
 conquest, and with the blood-red irrigation 
 soaked the reeking soil. In vain. And, 
 last of all, he travelled far, and climbed a 
 lofty steep in quest of a famous dew. And 
 in his pilgrimage to the world-top mount- 
 ain, he amassed such knowledge as no mor- 
 tal liad ever gleaned before. He learned 
 the entire of things, and spake of birds and 
 beasts and fishes ; and when he returned 
 so wondrous wise, his comj3atriots raised a 
 19 
 
218 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 shout with which the welkin vibrates still. 
 And from the chalice he poured the hoard- 
 ed draught — the largest flood of fame ever 
 wasted on weary land. But still there was 
 nothing seen except the wiry trellis against 
 the burning sky; and on his blasted bower 
 the broken-hearted monarch wrote, "Van- 
 ity of vanities, all is vanity." 
 
 Years passed on, and, visiting the spot, 
 the soul of the prince was moved. It felt 
 as if all his youth had been a balmy trance 
 in this bower of blessedness, and as if lie 
 had tasted no real joy since then. And, 
 observing beneath the withered canopy the 
 crumbling stock of Ashtaroth, he seized 
 the rotten pagod and hurled it far away. 
 Then, sinking on the ground in a. paroxysm 
 of bitter grief, he cried, *' My Father, my 
 God, wert not thou the guide of my youth ?" 
 His spirit relented. To the God of his 
 early adoration he felt his early love return- 
 in and soon sank into a sleep which in 
 genuous shame and godly sorrow pervaded. 
 As he woke, the smell of a delicious flower 
 
FIRE-FLIES. 219 
 
 Startled a youthful memory; and, gazing 
 upward, roses of Sharon looked down 
 through the lattice, while among them, like 
 pulses of Paradise, exquisite odors went 
 and came. Heaven's window had opened 
 while the penitent slept, and had sent a 
 plenteous rain. And rising from the fra- 
 grant couch, as a conclusion of the whole 
 matter, and as the business of his remain- 
 ing days, Solomon wrote this inscription : 
 " Fear God, and keep his commandments ; 
 for this is the whole duty of man."* 
 
 THE VOYAGE. 
 
 There was a man who owned a little 
 ship, and carried on in it a petty coasting 
 trade. He used to creep from port to 
 port, and bought or bartered such com- 
 modities as each supplied. And being fond 
 of knowledge and strange sights, he some- 
 times landed and visited the interior, and 
 
 * For the key, consult the Book of Ecclesiastes, and 
 1 Kings, xi. 
 
220 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 noted down any curious thing he came 
 upon.* 
 
 But being of a wistful and aspiring turn, 
 he often longed to spread a bolder sail, and 
 make some nobler land.f He had heard 
 the rumor of brighter climes ; a whisper 
 of spicy forests and dazzling wings ; a dis- 
 tant report of waters which mature the 
 pearl, and rivers which run down gold.f 
 But the rumor was vague, and stirred no 
 effort ; and so our merchantman still cruised 
 about from one dingy port to another of the 
 little island where he was born : till one 
 day, talking to a friend, and lamenting his 
 joyless life, his labor without profit, and his 
 success without satisfaction, he was sur- 
 prised to Learn that his friend had long 
 felt the same. Nay, more : he had been 
 making inquiry, and had resolved on for- 
 saking his present line of life. He had 
 learned that the Lord of that better land 
 was a most kind and generous Prince, and 
 made all strangers welcome, provided that, 
 
 • Eccl. i. 16, 17. t Psalms, Iv. 6. J I Cor. ii. 9. 
 
FIRE-FLIES. 221 
 
 ere setting out, they F^ecured a passport, 
 which was freely supplied to all who chose. 
 And he had gained some information regard- 
 ing the country itself. The exact distance 
 he could not tell. Some had reached it in 
 a few weeks, and others had been at sea 
 for several years. But he had procured 
 a chart in which the course was clearly 
 marked, and the grand port of arriv;d set 
 down. And, for his own n^.rt, he was sick 
 of this wretched coast, which yielded noth- 
 ing except the lust of the flesh, and the 
 lust of the eye, and the pride of life; and 
 he was determined to lose no time in set- 
 ting sail for Immanuel's land. 
 
 Delighted with the information, and fur- 
 nished with the chart, our voyager also 
 resolved to steer for this better country. 
 And, like one into whom a mighty purpose 
 has entered, there was great alacrity in his 
 movements, and much energy in his prep- 
 arations. He might sometimes be seen for 
 hours bending over the chart, and familiar- 
 izing himself with its landmarks. And, in 
 19* 
 
222 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 his anxiety to be well-informed on the sub- 
 ject, he i2;ol the narratives of some distin- 
 guished mariners who had performed the 
 vovage lately; but after reading several, he 
 found that they all agreed in extolling the 
 minuteness and fidelity of the chart; and 
 always ended by saying, that whosoever 
 took heed to his track, according to its 
 markings, could never go wrong.* 
 
 At last he set sail. It was a bright and 
 airy morning when his little vessel turned 
 her head to sea. In the healthy flutter 
 overhead, he heard a promise of better 
 things to come, and the thought, " Bound 
 for the better land," put springs into his 
 feet as he paced the exulting deck. The 
 very clouds, which scurried light and pure 
 along the sky, he hailed as friends and fel- 
 low-voyagers, for they, too, seemed to seek 
 that brighter shore ; and the faith and hope 
 with which his whole nature swelled and 
 thrilled, at last melted into love and won- 
 der; and with uplifted hands he cried, 
 • Psalm cxix. 9, 99. 
 
FIRE-FLIES. 223 
 
 ** Blessed be the God and Fatlier of our 
 Lord Jesus Christ, who, according to his 
 abundant mercy, hath begotten me to a 
 lively hope — to an inheritance incorrup- 
 tible and undefiled, and that fadeth not 
 away ;" and presently, on bended knees, 
 he was pouring out the gratitude of his 
 ravished heart to the glorious Lord of that 
 land. 
 
 He was getting clear of the roads when 
 he noticed a lighthouse rising up from the 
 water, and looking to the chart, he found 
 that it was erected over the Deuias sands.* 
 And just here a pilot-boat came alongside 
 of him, bearing despatches from the shore. 
 One was a letter reminding him of his en- 
 gagement to grace with his presence a 
 splendid rout, which was to come off next 
 day, and reminding him that it was pardy 
 in honor of himself that it was given, and 
 they would all be so dull without him. 
 And the other was a letter from a near rela- 
 tion, telling him, that if he persisted in thi? 
 • 2 Tim. iv. 10. 
 
224 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 ridirulous course, although he had intended 
 to make him his heir, he wouhl alter his 
 will, and cut him off with a shilling. But, 
 just at that moment, the peace of God was 
 to keeping his mind, that neither message 
 disturbed him. He remembered, " Be not 
 conformed to the world : love not the 
 world, neither the things that be of the 
 world ;" and having written two brief but 
 decisive notes, he turned the vessel's liead 
 a point more to seaward, and cleared in 
 safety the Demas sands. 
 
 After this the breeze abated, and toward 
 noon it was nearly calm. Our voyager 
 was in high spirits at the moral victory 
 which he had just achieved, and was now 
 pretty sure that he had not only set out in 
 the right direction, but that, at this rate, 
 nothing: could hinder him from landinor 
 aright. A little self-complacency sprang 
 up in his mind, and he thought less about 
 the kindness of Him who had invited him 
 to the goodly realm, than about his own 
 luck or wisdom in actually going. And 
 
FIRE -FLIES. 225 
 
 while he was thus musing, he wondered, 
 but he rather thought the ship was standing 
 still. There could be no doubt of it. The 
 sails were still a little set, and breaths of air 
 were still moving about; but the ship was 
 fast, and would not answer to the helm ; 
 and, looking over the side, he could see 
 quite plainly the ridge of rock on which it 
 had grounded. He was much amazed ; for 
 he had felt no shock nor jar, and had taken 
 it as gently as if it had been a sunken 
 cloud or a spell in the water. But there 
 he was, fast and firm ; and it was no use 
 backing the sails, for he could not move, 
 and, to make the matter worse, the tide 
 was ebbing. Just then, he noticed a sail 
 near hand, and signalled her. She proved 
 to be his old friend, who had first sug- 
 gested the idea of this voyage, and who 
 himself had newly put to sea. 
 
 Voyager* Well, here's an uglyitrap. Do 
 you know what they call this horrid reef? 
 
 Friejid. Self-confidence. There is not 
 a worse shoal in all the passage. 
 
226 THE HAPPT HOME. 
 
 V. Whv, then, is there no light nor 
 beacon over it ? 
 
 F. There are these buoys. And uliat 
 is the use of your soundiiig-liiK' ?* 
 
 V. But was it not curious that 1 should 
 slide so softly on what you say is such a 
 dangerous rock ? 
 
 F. Well, it was just in the same way 
 that the good ship Galatia was wrecked 
 lonii; aofo. She had just parted with the 
 best pilot who ever navigated. those seas — 
 the famous pilot, Paul ; and the last glimpse 
 he had of her she was running well. And 
 when word was brought him that the hap- 
 less Galatia was fast aground of this treach- 
 erous reef, so strange and unaccountable 
 did it seem, that he exclaimed, " O, foolish 
 Galaiians, who hath bewitched you ?" But 
 it is time you were thinking what to do ; 
 for, if rough weather find you here, you 
 must go all to pieces. 
 
 F. And what shall I do ? 
 
 J^. Look yonder ! 
 * Prov. xviii. 12 : Rom. xi. 20 : 2 Cor. xiii. 5. 
 
FIRE-FLIES. 227 
 
 And, as directed, the voyager looked 
 aloft. And, though it was bright day, there 
 shone in the clear firmament a broad and 
 silvery star. The mariner knew that it was 
 the Star of Bethlehem ; and, as he intently 
 eyed it, he felt his pinnace lifted off the 
 reef, and soon the sails began to bulge, and, 
 in gladness of release, the vessel bounded 
 on her way.* 
 
 Humbled by this mismanagement, the 
 voyager after this consulted his chart more 
 carefully, and steered more exactly accord- 
 ing to its minute directions. Sometimes 
 he sailed in sunshine, sometimes in shade. 
 At times, the currents were cross, or the 
 gale was in the vessel's eye. And then, 
 again, the wind blowing where it listeth, 
 would lift him fast along, and as one bright 
 billow handed him to another, a joyous dit- 
 ty would carol from the deck. Occasion- 
 ly, he had a convoy from another seeking 
 the same port, and often without a consort 
 he pursued his solitary way. 
 
 * Phil. iii. 3 ; iv. 13 ; Psalm cxxiv. 7. 
 
228 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 At la^^t, a storm arose. There was first 
 a lull and a lurid calm. A dusky red, a 
 bloody dimness curtained the horizon, and 
 enclosed the ship within its thickening pall. 
 There felt like sulphur in the air, and the 
 breath grew short, and the strenijth gave 
 way, as when some fearful thing is coming. 
 And when the anjj^ry sun was set, and noth- 
 ing sparkled in the blotted firmament, and 
 deep was calling unto deep — the moaning 
 signals, in which the spirits of desolation 
 seem to ask, If all be ready V it flashed — 
 again — again — again; and the welkin was 
 fire, and the sea was foam ; and, amid the 
 splitting cracks, and the engulfing flame, 
 and the rising hurricane, it felt as if the 
 quivering skiff were a tiny morsel in 
 destruction's open jaws. '' O my God, 
 my soul is cast down within me. Deep 
 calleth unto deep, at the noise of thy water- 
 spouts, all thy waves and thy billows are 
 gone over me." It was the hour of dark- 
 ness, and of the prince of the power of the 
 air, and strange whispers hissed through 
 
FIRE-FLIES. 229 
 
 the gloom or gurgled up from the weltering 
 flood. One of them suggested, " Cast 
 away the beginning of your confidence." 
 Another murmured, " Curse God and die." 
 One yelled, " Hell is but a fable, and 
 heaven a poet's dream." And the ghast- 
 liest of all was a reptile croak, " There is 
 no God." And the poor benighted soul 
 began to wonder if it could be on the right 
 track that all this riot of horrors went on, 
 and feared that he must have got into some 
 fiendish by-path, and almost wished, rather 
 than hear those blasphemous voices, that 
 the deep would swallow him quick. But 
 from this belly of hell he cried again, and 
 his brief but piercing prayer was ever the 
 same, " Lord, save — or I perish." And, 
 through all the turmoil and din, that cry 
 was heard ; for what is yon pavilion of 
 moving light — that sunny shrine which 
 glides over the billows, and a glassy path 
 spreads out before it? What is this pres- 
 ence from whose distant ray the phantoms 
 of the pit have already retreated, and their 
 20 
 
230 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 foul accents died away? The bright and 
 morning star is ah'eady on board ; and to 
 the *' Peace, be still," which he spoke, the 
 obsequious storm and the crouching waves 
 have given instant answer. " It is T ; be 
 not afraid ;" and, though still soaked in 
 spray and cold with terror, the presence 
 of his protector and deliverer restores the 
 sinking soul. Assured that the Saviour 
 himself has taken the helm, he drops into a 
 tranquil slumber, and, when he awakes, his 
 drenched garments are dry, and the mon- 
 soon is past, and those constant winds are 
 entered, which will always blow the self- 
 same way till he reaches the haven where 
 he fain would be. 
 
 As he glances along on the gentle waters, 
 he takes out his log-book, and enters a 
 whole account of the hurricane. " They 
 that go down to the sea in ships, that do 
 business in the great waters ; these see the 
 works of tfie Lord and his wonders in the 
 deep. For he commandeth and raiseth the 
 stormy wind, which lifteth up the waves 
 
FIRE-FLIES. 
 
 231 
 
 thereof. They mount up to the heavens, 
 they go flown again to the depths ; their 
 soul is uielled because of trouble. Then 
 they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, and 
 he brinireth them out of their distresses. 
 He maketh the storm a calm, so that the 
 waves thereof are still. Then are they glad 
 because they be quiet. Oh, that men would 
 praise the Lord for his goodness and for his 
 wonderful works to the children of men.'* 
 And from that time forward he marks a 
 happy change in the character of the voy- 
 age. There is more progress and less vi- 
 cissitude. He has passed under deeper 
 skies and got into steadier gales. And he 
 has fewer adventures and perils to record. 
 And he has a serene and prevailing hope 
 of arriving safe at last. By-and-by, he be- 
 gins to notice fragments of sea-weed, and 
 crosses whole banks of them ; brt though 
 they somewhat hinder the ship and make 
 its way more cumbrous, he does not grudge 
 them, for they tell that land is lear. And 
 to tell it still more clearly, by-and-by new 
 
232 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 shapes are seen — bright pinions and dart- 
 ing gems which have come from the hidden 
 shoie, and are going back again. And 
 there it comes itself — the shore with its 
 palm-trees waving and its snowy temple 
 gleaming ; and already he inhales the fresh 
 and balmy odor from distant forests and 
 unseen flowers — when some suspicious 
 sail bounds toward him, some skulking cor- 
 vette which prowls on its pirate outlook near 
 the very harbor's mouth, and for a moment 
 he marvels that such murderous robbers 
 should be suffered to cruise along the very 
 margin of Immanuel's Land. But a signal 
 is made from shore, " Resist, and he will 
 flee." And obedient to the timely signal, 
 the ship puts on her fighting trim ; and no 
 sooner is the flag of defiance shaken out, 
 than the dark sail veers about, and, as it 
 sneaks away, a shout pursues it, " O Grave ! 
 where is thy victory ? O Death ! where is 
 th} sting?" When the morrow dawned, 
 it showed the anchor dropped and the can- 
 vass furled ; but it was the fair haven of Im- 
 
FIRE-FLIES. 233 
 
 mortality, and the voyager had got safe to 
 land. 
 
 THE DILIGENCE. 
 
 A friend of ours received an invitation 
 to visit an illustrious prince in a foreign 
 country. Our friend was considered a 
 sincere and worthy man, but he had a sour 
 and splenetic temper. In the stage which 
 conveyed him, there were some other pas- 
 sengers ; but as they were strangers, he did 
 not speak to them. One had a coat of a 
 peculiar fashion, and he set him down for 
 a fop. Another had a slight blemish on a 
 face otherwise pleasing ; but every time 
 that our traveller turned that way, his eye 
 was arrested by that scar. A third had a 
 slight impediment in his speech ; but though 
 this, like the rest, was a little thing, our 
 tourist held that nothing is a trifle in so 
 serious a matter as looks and language. 
 The strangers, however, seemed to be well 
 acquainted with one another, and from some 
 20* 
 
234 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 casual expressions it appeared that they 
 were all journeying to the same place. 
 They failed to make any impression on 
 their taciturn comrade; and, admonished 
 by his short answers, they were polite 
 enough to let him alone. It began to rain ; 
 and as the large drops swept in on the pas- 
 senger opposite, he wished to put up the 
 glass: hut his gruff neighbor demurred; 
 and, rather than have any debate, the gen- 
 tleman wrapped himself up in his cloak, 
 and retiring into the corner, shunned the 
 shower as well as he could. And so, stage 
 after stage, they journeyed — the three 
 happy and at home with one another, the 
 silent man moody and self-absorbed. At 
 last the hills around the mansion came in 
 sight; and then the enclosing wall; and 
 then the swelling lawn, studded with its 
 noble trees ; and last of all, the towers and 
 battlements of the castle itself began to 
 appear. 
 
 And now the passengers began to look 
 sprightlier, and glanced out at the win- 
 
FIRE-FLIES. 235 
 
 dows, as if they knew it all, and smiled 
 to one another, and began to e;et things in 
 readiness, as if they, too, meant to stop 
 somewhere hereabouts. And so they did ; 
 for the moment the stage drew up at the 
 castle-gate, they all got out, and it was evi- 
 dent, from the attendants in waiting, that 
 they were distinguished visiters. Two of 
 them were special friends of the prince, 
 and the one who had borne the pelting of 
 the shower so patiently was his brother. 
 Our sullen traveller felt exceedingly awk- 
 ward, and almost wished to retain his place 
 in the vehicle and pass on. But ascer- 
 taining who he was, and that he too was 
 bound for their mansion, the prince's brother 
 introduced himself, and exerted all his 
 courtesy to supersede his apologies and 
 restore his self-possession. By the time 
 they reached the entrance-door, the poor 
 man's confusion had somewhat subsided ; 
 but bitter were his self-reproaches, and ve- 
 hement his protestations that, if he had 
 another journey to perform, he would not 
 
236 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 be so haui^hty by the way, nor look so silly 
 at the journey's end. 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 Be not sectaries — be not recluses. Please 
 every one his neighbor for his good. Put 
 up the window when it rains on your fel- 
 low-passenger ; and to do good and com- 
 municate, do not forget. Fall not out with 
 your Christian brethren by the way; and, 
 in order to avoid painful discoveries and 
 explanations when this conveyance of the 
 visible church stands still and the journey 
 of life is over, put on no arrogant nor 
 exclusive airs while you still are fellow- 
 travellers. 
 

 THE SORROWFUL PARTING 
 
 Page 259 
 
THE FAITHFUL SERVANT. 
 
 Dear Reader : You are away from 
 home. Perhaps it is not long since you 
 left it, and still your fondest thoughts are 
 there. When the house is quiet ; when 
 you can follow every footfall in the street, 
 till it dies away round the corner; when 
 the fire burns low, and every tick of the 
 clock comes loud and earnest ; or when 
 you chance to awaken up in the lonely 
 night, your mind is sure to wander off to 
 that loved dwelling. Where is it? Is it 
 yon white house, with the mountain behind 
 it, and the misty crags where the eagle 
 screams, and the torrent thunders down, in 
 the most ancient melody of old and tuneful 
 Wales ? Or is it far, far away, in the 
 highlands ? Is it thatched with broom and 
 brackens, and does a peat-stack stand at the 
 gable ? and out among the crows and the 
 
238 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 peeweets, doe* Donald wrap round liim his 
 plaid, and herd the dun cattle, till the corn 
 is cut and the potato-shaws are \\ iihered ? 
 Or is it an English cottage? With its lit- 
 tle lozenge-panes does the casement unclose 
 on hinges'? and, wlien opened, does a sweet 
 air come in from roses, and honeysuckle, 
 and mignionette ? Is it on the edge of the 
 common, where sober geese and gentle 
 donkeys browse together? and near the 
 shaded pond, where the. wagoner stops his 
 team, and cools their fetlocks in the dusty 
 summer? Or is it down the bushy lane, 
 where, in harvest, blackberries and filberts 
 ripen, and long threads of gossamer saunter 
 about in the golden air? Or near the vil- 
 lage church? so near, that when you lay 
 in bed wiih the fever, you could hear the 
 choir and the organ? Are there alms- 
 houses all in a row — six for old men, and 
 six for old women ? And when they march- 
 ed to church on sabbath mornings, how 
 many did you count the girls in blue frocks 
 and white mittens ? how many the boys in 
 
THE FAITHFUL SERVANT. 239 
 
 round caps tufted with orange tops? Oh, 
 yes ! it was a sweet place, where you were 
 born and bred ; and if your father and 
 mother are still alive, I do not wonder that 
 your heart is often there. 
 
 Besides, you say that you are not happy 
 here. The house is grand, but it is strange. 
 Nobody cares for you. No one cheers you 
 with a kind look or a pleasant word ; and 
 if your loneliness should ever make you 
 dull, your fellow-servant jeers you. And 
 when you think of that sorrowful afternoon 
 when you packed up your things, and your 
 brother carried your box. and your father 
 convoyed you as far as the milestone ; and 
 when you feel again the clasp of that dear 
 old hand, and seem to hear the faltering 
 voice, '* God Almighty bless you !" your 
 heart is like to break, and you almost wish 
 that there were no servants and no mistres- 
 ses, and no need for poor girls leaving home 
 to seek a place with strangers. 
 
 But dry that tear. I feel for you, so 
 young and solitary, and I would fain say 
 
240 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 something which might comfort you. Read 
 this letter carefully, and read it to the end. 
 
 Eighteen hundred years ago, the Son 
 of God came down from heaven, and vis- 
 ited our world ; and that visit of his is by 
 far the most important event in our world's 
 surj)risiMg story. With all the love of 
 God, he came in all the gentleness and 
 tenderness of man ; and his errand was as 
 kind as his nature. He came to save sin- 
 ners To purchase their pardon, he shed 
 his blood on the cross of Calvary ; and he 
 is now gone back to heaven, a Prince and 
 a Saviour, delliihting to bestow repentance 
 and the remission of sins. And he sends 
 through the world his Bible and his minis- 
 ters, beseeching men to take the benefit of 
 his most precious blood, and through these 
 ministers, and that Bible, saying, " Come 
 unto me, all ye that labor, and are heavy 
 laden, and I will give you rest."* 
 
 Jesus went back to heaven ; but he left 
 
 * All this is explained moie fully in the first three 
 numbers of " The Happy Home." 
 
THE FAITHFUL SERVANT. 241 
 
 behind him his apostles. These good men 
 went everywhere preaching the gospel ; 
 and, as the Holy Spirit was with them, it 
 was wonderful with what speed they came 
 When they told the love of God in sending 
 his dear Son, and the Saviour's love in dy- 
 ing, something fixed the people's ear, and 
 the story moved their minds — fierce spirits 
 melted, and flinty hearts flowed down ; and 
 fi-om among the roughest of mankind the 
 Redeemer drew disciples after him. And 
 whether it was the soldier's barrack, or the 
 noble's country-seat — whether it was the 
 city-mansion, or the tanner's hut beside the 
 shore — wherever the gospel entered, it 
 brought holiness, and peace, and joy. But 
 there was no class of persons to whom it 
 was more welcome than to the servants of 
 that time. Many of them were actual 
 slaves. They had been torn away from 
 their homes in the German forest or on the 
 hills of Britain, and were now in bondage 
 to the haughty Roman. And those of them 
 who worked for wages were often harshly 
 21 
 
242 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 treated and |)0()rly paid. But God is no 
 respecter of persons, and the <^ospel was as 
 free to Onesimns as to his rirh master, 
 Philemon, and brought the saine blessings 
 to Khoda, the housemaid, as to Mary, her 
 mistress. The kindness of that gospel won 
 the heart of many a servant. They threw 
 away their idols — they gave up their sin- 
 ful habits, and became the affectionate fol- 
 lowers of that exalted Saviour who was 
 once himself " in the form of a servant." 
 And as great numbers were admitted to the 
 early church, they became a special charge 
 to the church's ministers. Timothy and 
 Titus preached so plainly, that the servants 
 understood them; and when Paul and Pe- 
 ter wrote letters to their flocks, they usually 
 put in a message to the servants. Their 
 labor was not lost. Many of these converts 
 became bright Christians. By their mod- 
 esty, and diligence, and faithfulness, they 
 commended the cause of Christ ; and when 
 times of persecution came, rather than 
 deny their Lord they were ready to go to 
 
THE FAITHFUL SERVANT. 243 
 
 prison and to death, and in the early an- 
 nals of your class have left their martyr- 
 names. 
 
 The Lord Jesus is gone back to heaven ; 
 but he desires that you too would become 
 his disciple. He desires that you would 
 come to him to receive pardon for your 
 sins, and to get a new and right nature. 
 He desires that you would enter his house- 
 hold and become his servant for ever. And 
 he offers to become to you the same gra- 
 cious Saviour and the same Almighty Friend 
 as he has been to the thousands of happy 
 servants before you. 
 
 Believe the blessed Saviour, and your 
 worst sorrows will be ended. Your earth- 
 ly lot may be hard. Your work may be 
 irksome, your wages small, your employer 
 severe. Never mind ; you have promotion 
 in prospect. The poor people who come 
 begging to the door often tell you, " We 
 have seen better days ;" but the Christian 
 is one whose best days are " not seen as 
 yet." Eye hath not seen what God has 
 
244 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 prepared for liis people ; and amid all your 
 toils and privations will it not cheer you to 
 think, '* My better days are coming?" 
 
 And would it not be delightful to have 
 always a good employer? Some have 
 masters and mistresses whom there is no 
 pleasure in serving. They are stiff and 
 cold, and they feel no interest in you. Or 
 they are coarse and bitter ; they give their 
 orders with a threat, and reward you with 
 a frown. Or they are mean and suspicious ; 
 accusing you when innocent, and condemn- 
 ing you unheard. And you grudge to waste 
 your strength on thankless toil. It hurts 
 you to be treated like a felon or a foe ; and 
 you know not which is hardest — to be 
 blamed when you have done no wrong, or 
 to win no notice and no thanks when you 
 have done your very best. But you must 
 learn to look higher. Enter the service of 
 the Lord Jesus, and whatsoever you do 
 you will then " do heartily, as unto the 
 Lord, and not unto men." Without leav- 
 ing your present place you will then have 
 
THE FAITHFUL SERVANT. 245 
 
 a Master wise, and kind, and worthy of 
 your utmost efforts ; and for his sake you 
 will be " subject, not only to the good and 
 gentle, but also to the froward." And so 
 lon<!: as they ask you to do nothing sinful, 
 whatever your earthly superiors enjoin, you 
 will do it thoroughly and cheerfully, for the 
 sake of your Master in heaven. As you 
 pursue your lonely task, and ply your weary 
 toil, you will hear his own voice saying, 
 " Occupy till I come ;" and the thought 
 that he has put you there will convert the 
 meanest station into a post of honor. Even 
 trials you will hail as that discipline which 
 his wisdom prescribes ; and when nothing 
 else could keep up your courage, it will be 
 enough to think of the day when — forgiv- 
 ing all their faults, and only remembering 
 their labors of love — he will say to every 
 meek and persevering disciple, " Well done, 
 good and faithful servant, enter into the joy 
 of thy Lord." 
 
 Be^iides, if you become the servant of 
 the Lord .Jesus, you will have an Almighty 
 21* 
 
246 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 Friend to whom to go in all your fears and 
 sorrows. One of your trials is your lone- 
 liness. You have no affectionate coun^iel- 
 lor now like what you had at hornr ; and 
 you would he thankful for some one who 
 would take a kit)d interest in your wel- 
 fare — who would listen to your griefs — 
 and who would help you to do what is 
 rii!;ht, and shun what i=? wrong. For that 
 purpose, there is no friend like the Saviour ; 
 none so wise, so powerful, so holy; and, 
 what makes him the very one you need, he 
 is a Friend constantly at liand. You do 
 not see him, but he is ever present, and 
 will hear you if you pray. Tell him of 
 your sins and temptations, and he will help 
 you to overcome them. Tell him of your 
 troubles, and he will comfort you. Tell 
 him of your difficulties, and perhaps, while 
 you are yet speaking, they will vanish and 
 disappear. And though you may not have 
 much opportunity for prayer, the Lord is 
 very pidful ; and just as he heard Nehe- 
 miah with the king's wine-cup in his 
 
THE FAITHFUL SERVANT. §47 
 
 hand, and answered the prayer which 
 EHezer offered as he kneh beside his mas- 
 ter's camel, so, if you are really earnest, 
 the Lord will hear the petition which you 
 breathe to him at any time and In any 
 place. I lately read of a servant, In Scot- 
 land, who could get no retirement in the 
 house, but she used to pray silently as she 
 went to the well for water ; "and often," 
 she said, " as I stood beside the well, 
 the same condescending Redeemer who 
 manifested himself to the poor woman at 
 Jacob's well, revealed himself to me." 
 And do you take for the guide of your 
 youth that Saviour, as merciful as he Is 
 almighty, and then you can never be friend- 
 less or forlorn. To all your cares and sor- 
 rows his ear will be ever open ; and, while 
 no danger nor distress can escape his watch- 
 ful eye, through every stage of life and in 
 every scene of action, he will graciously 
 uphold you by the Holy Spirit's comfort 
 and control. 
 
 Dear reader, will you not, from this time 
 
248 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 onward, love and serve this Saviour? Will 
 you not go to him, and beg that he would 
 receive a poor, unworthy sinner, who has 
 heard of his kindness, and who hopes in 
 his mercy? Will you not intrust to him 
 the keeping of your soul, and the care of 
 all your interests? And as he most wil- 
 lingly receives you, so will not you humbly 
 and diligently follow him? And are you 
 not saying already, "Lord, what wouldst 
 thou have me to do ? — Speak, Lord, for 
 thy servant heareth ?" 
 
 Yes, and to you the Lord hath spoken. 
 He who gave the Bible, had a great care 
 for servants ; and to copy all the passages 
 especially suited to you would fill this pa- 
 per. I hope you will search them out, 
 and mark them when you find them, and 
 read them often over. In the meanwhile, 
 as a specimen, here are three. Listen to 
 the voice of Jesus, and let the holy accents 
 sink into your inmost soul : — 
 
 " Servants, obey in all things your mas- 
 ters according to the flesh ; not with eye- 
 
THE FAITHFUL SERVANT. 249 
 
 service, as men-pleasers ; but in singleness 
 of heart, fearing God : and whatsoever ye 
 do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not 
 unto men ; knowing that of the Lord ye 
 shall receive the reward of the inheritance : 
 for ye serve the Lord Christ. But he that 
 doeth wrong shall receive for the wrong 
 which he hath done : and there is no re- 
 spect of persons."* 
 
 " Exhort servants to be obedient unto 
 their own masters, and to please them well 
 in all things ; not answering again : not 
 purloining, but showing all good fidelity; 
 that they may adorn the doctrine of God 
 our Saviour in all things. For the grace 
 of God that bringeth salvation hath ap- 
 peared to all men, teaching us that, denying 
 ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should 
 live soberly, righteously, and godly, in this 
 present world ; looking for that blessed 
 hope, and the glorious appearing of the 
 great God and our Saviour Jesus Christ; 
 who gave himself for us, that he might 
 * Colossians, iii. 22-25. 
 
250 THE HAPPT HOME. 
 
 redeem us from all iniquity, and purify unto 
 himself a peculiar people, zealous of good 
 works."* 
 
 " Servants, be subject to your masters 
 with all fear; not only to the good and 
 gentle, but also to the froward. For this 
 is thankworthy, if a man for conscience 
 toward God endure grief, suffering wrong- 
 fully. For what glory is it, if, when ye be 
 buffeted for your faults, ye shall take it 
 patiently? but if, when ye do well, and 
 suffer for it, ye take it patiently, this is ac- 
 ceptable with God. For even hereunto 
 were ye called : because Christ also suf- 
 fered for us, leaving us an example, that ye 
 should follow his steps : who did no sin, 
 neither was guile found in his mouth : who, 
 when he was reviled, reviled not again ; 
 when he suffered, he threatened not; but 
 committed himself to him thatjudgeth right- 
 eously: who his ownself bare our sins in 
 his own body on the tree, that we, being 
 dead to sins, should live unto righteous- 
 * Titus, ii. 9-14. 
 
THE FAITHFUL SERVANT. 251 
 
 ness : by whose stripes ye were healed. 
 For ye were as sheep going astray; but are 
 now returned unto the Shepherd and Bishop 
 of your souls."* 
 
 From these passages, you see that your 
 first duty is obedience. Of course, you 
 must not tell lies, nor do anything wicked, 
 to please your employer; but so long as 
 you remain in his service, and so long as 
 his commands do not contradict the com- 
 mands of God, you must do whatever he 
 bids you. And do it cheerfully : even if 
 you would rather be doing something else, 
 still " do it heartily ; do it as to the Lord, 
 and not unto men." The beauty of obe- 
 dience is its frankness. There was a youth 
 to whom his father said, " Go work in my 
 vineyard to-day:" but he answered, cross- 
 ly, " I will not." It was not that he was 
 particularly lazy, nor that he had no love 
 to his father ; for, on thinking better about 
 it, he laid off his coat and took up his tools, 
 and when his father stepped into the vine- 
 * 1 Peter ii. 18-25. 
 
252 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 yard by-and-by, the lad was at work like a 
 hero. But it was a great pity, that churl- 
 ish answer ; it left a pang in his [)arent's 
 heart, and it was not till he had made it up 
 with his father, that he felt quite right in 
 his own. And if you would do your work 
 with comfort, do it cheerfully, and do it in- 
 stantly. Never " answer again ;" and let 
 it never be seen, by your sour or lowering 
 countenance, that you are vexed at any 
 order. The way to make it easy is to take 
 it heartily; and the way to make masters and 
 mistresses kind and considerate, is for ser- 
 vants to be cordial at their work, and cheer- 
 ful in their compliance. But a very foolish 
 plan is first to sulk, and then to obey : it 
 loses time, it loses credit, and it loses good 
 situations. 
 
 We can scarcely lay too much stress 
 upon temper ; for few tempers are naturally 
 good, and yours is exposed to many trials. 
 Sometimes you are called away in the 
 midst of your work, and the labor of an 
 hour is lost. Or you are ordered to attend 
 
THE FAITHFUL SERVANT. 253 
 
 to some matter which does not belong to 
 your department; or fellow-servants play 
 tricks on you, and, instead of helping you, 
 increase your trouble ; or you are obliged 
 to sit up late and rise early, and, out of 
 sorts and out of spirits, you grow morose 
 and miserable. And it must be confessed 
 that this is trying to flesh and blood ; but, 
 just on account of these trials, you are the 
 more bound to pray for a meek and quiet 
 spirit. To its possessor it is not only an 
 " ornament,"* but an unspeakable comfort. 
 Even where no sharp answer is given, peo- 
 ple do not like to hear doors slamming, 
 and porcelain smashing, and fire-irons rat- 
 tling, and other signs of the tempest down 
 stairs ; but be they " froward" themselves, 
 or be they good and gentle, they like to see 
 their attendants calm and courteous. They 
 like that their door should be opened to 
 their friends, by one who wears a welcome 
 in her smiling face, and they feel it a per- 
 sonal compliment when every office is per- 
 * 1 Peter iii. 4. 
 
 22 
 
254 THE HAPPY HOMR. 
 
 formed with mild alacrity and evident jijood 
 will. Even though they may not like your 
 piety, they will prize your politeness, and 
 by your civil and respectful demeanor, you 
 will adorn the religion you profess. And 
 you will smooth your daily path, and per- 
 form life's journey more pleasantly. You 
 have looked at a country cart ; and when 
 there was need of haste, it was a clumsy 
 sight to see it lurching and hobbling along 
 the road, and a harsh tune to listen to its 
 screeching axle and jan<i;ling gear, till some 
 projecting stone capsized it, and it spread 
 from ditch to dike, a wreck of splintered 
 deals and broken spars. And along the 
 same road you have seen the chariot speed- 
 ing, and as on liquid axle and jaunty springs 
 it skimmed the track, and courtesied over 
 the clods and the stones, its flight was 
 silent and steady, as if wings opened and 
 shut from every wheel. So is it painful to 
 see a fitful temper jolting and jarring along 
 its rugged course, provoked at every hin- 
 derance, announcing its progress by per- 
 
THE FAITHFUL SERVANT. 255 
 
 petJial discord, and finally upset by some 
 little interruption, which a more elastic 
 spirit would have lightly glided over. And 
 a happy thing it is to see that wretched 
 temper changed, and as it revolves through 
 daily duties, vaulting over annoyances and 
 stumbling-blocks, and holding on its way 
 with neither dust nor din. Ruth Clark, 
 whose story you would do well to read, 
 once had a violent temper ; but after the 
 grace of God had reached her, she began 
 to watch and pray against this proud spirit, 
 and so entirely was it subdued, thpt " per- 
 sons living constantly with her would never 
 have suspected that she had formerly been 
 its slave." And, however unruly your 
 spirit at present is, if you strive constantly 
 against it, and cry for help to the Lamb of 
 God, he will give you the victory, and 
 bless you with a spirit like his own — 
 " gentle, meek, and mild." 
 
 Whatever be the place you hold, you 
 can not discharge its duties without good 
 sense, as well as good health and good 
 
856 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 principle; but if already blessed with these 
 mercies, tliere is nothing to hinder you 
 from becoming a first-rate servant; and, 
 whatever may be his calling in life, every 
 Christian should be first-rate in his own 
 department. In every calling, however, it 
 needs pains and perseverance to reach per- 
 fection. It was by long practice, and after 
 many lessons, that Sir Thomas Lawrence 
 became a first-rate painter ; and it was by 
 great humility, and by taking hints from 
 every one, that John Dalton became a first- 
 rate chemist ; and it is by like means that 
 you are to become a first rate servant. Be 
 humble, and then you will be thankful for 
 every hint. You will observe how older 
 and more accomplished servants do their 
 work, and you will try and try again, till 
 you can do it as well as they. And when 
 your mistress or a friend is kind enough to 
 explain any process, you will carefully 
 attend, and not need to be told it again. 
 And thus, step by step, you will get on, 
 till you become so neat and orderly, that, 
 
THE FAITHFUL SERVANT. 257 
 
 in all your little realm of rooms and 
 cupboards, everything will find its proper 
 place, and wear its tidiest look ; so accu- 
 rate and punctual, that you will forget no 
 messages, and will have all things ready at 
 the minute ; so dexterous and expert, that 
 it will seem as if there were a charm in 
 your finger-points, and as if every article 
 you touched understood your meaning ; so 
 calm and self-possessed, that confusion will 
 clear up, and disorder will arrange itself 
 when you come in ; so thoughtful and con- 
 siderate, that you will find out employment 
 for yourself, and attend to matters which, 
 but for you, would be omitted : and when 
 you have reached this degree of skill and 
 experience, it will be no flattery to call 
 you a first-rate servant.* 
 
 * Those who are anxious to improve will find many 
 aseful hints in "the Servants' Magazine". — a penny 
 periodical published monthly by the "Female Aid Soci- 
 etv." This society has done much good ; and it may 
 be useful to mention, here, that it maintains a " Ser- 
 vants' Home and Registry" at No. 5 Millman street, 
 near Bedi'ord row, where respectable female servants are 
 
 22* 
 
258 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 Try to do good in the place of your 
 sojourn. When Mr. Fletcher, of .Nhideley, 
 was tutor in a Shrop>hire family, he had 
 some respect for religion, but not enough 
 to make him religious. One sabbath even- 
 ing, a pious servant came into his study to 
 make up the fire, and seeing him writing 
 music, she said, vvikh deep concern, "Oh, 
 sir! I am sorry to see you so employed on 
 the Loid's day." And though very angry 
 at the moment, after she went out, he put 
 away the music, and never copied any 
 more on the sabbath. I am not sure, how- 
 ever, that reproof is the best way of doing 
 good to superiors. A word modestly spo- 
 ken, and by a person of tried consistency, 
 
 lodged, and assisted in finding situations, at a very 
 moderate charge. 
 
 In the same neighborhood — that is, at No. 22 New 
 Ormond street — is a school for training servants, main 
 tained by the Hon. Mrs. Kinnaird and her friends. A' 
 hundred girls are at present attending if, who, but for' 
 its advantages, would never have been fit for respect- 
 able service. We mention it here, partly to record the 
 delight we have experienced in visiting it, and partly in 
 the hope that it may suggest to some benevolent reader 
 the establishment of similar institutions elsewhere. 
 
THE FAITHFUL SERVANT. 259 
 
 may sometimes prove a word In season, 
 but it is more likely to be resented as rude- 
 ness, and you may only irritate those 
 whom you meant to reform. Far more 
 effectual is the silent eloquence of a lowly, 
 cheerful, and obliging piety; and if some 
 have been repelled from the gospel by the 
 preaching tone and arrogant air of servants 
 who professed it, others have been won 
 by the gainly demeanor of servants who 
 adorned it. But try to do good to your 
 fellow-servants. If you are enabled to live 
 soberly, righteously, and godly ; if they see 
 you correct, and truthful, and devout, but 
 if at the same time you are kind and affable, 
 you will gain great influence over them; 
 and by lending them books, or persuading 
 them to come with you to the house of 
 God, you may confer a lasting blessing on 
 their souls. And if you have the charge 
 of children, teach them texts and hymns, 
 and speak to them affectionately about the 
 Saviour, and teir them Bible stories, and 
 warn them with solemn tenderness against 
 
260 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 lyiriii, and pride, and qunrrelling, and 
 selfishness, and the other sins of child- 
 hood. 
 
 A young girl once went to a thoughtless 
 family in the north of Ireland. She loved 
 her Bible, but the young ladies on whom 
 she waited lauo-hed at her reli2:ion. She 
 tried all she could to be attentive and use- 
 ful to them ; and to please her they some- 
 times let her read aloud a chapter when they 
 had gone to bed. But by-and-by a dan- 
 gerous sickness seized her. It was a fever, 
 and her young friends were not allowed to 
 see her, but they heard how happy she was 
 amidst all her sufferings. And after she 
 had gone to Jesus, the two oldest remem- 
 bered what she used to say while yet with 
 them, and began to read the Bible for 
 themselves, till they found peace in the 
 same Saviour, and till at last religion spread 
 through this once careless family. Happy 
 maid ! when she meets on high the en- 
 deared objects of her prayers, and this m- 
 hoped result of her gentle piety. 
 
THE FAITHFtTL SERVANT. 261 
 
 Will you permit me to add that few 
 classes in modern society are so rich as 
 domestic servants? You have no rent, no 
 rates to pay ; you need buy neither coals 
 nor candles, nor food, nor (clothing except- 
 ed) any of those endless commodities which 
 daily tax the householder ; and, though 
 your income is small, you yourself are rich, 
 for you might easily save the half of it. 
 Sad pity that so many squander on treats 
 or useless trinkets the wages for which they 
 work so hard ! Would it not be nobler to 
 do as some have done, and educate a nephew, 
 or young brother? or do as others have 
 done, and maintain in comfort an infirm or 
 aged parent? And would it not be wiser 
 to lay up a good foundation against the 
 coming time, and, by putting aside a month- 
 ly or yearly sum, to build a bulwark be- 
 tween yourself and future poverty ? That 
 shilling which you spent at the pastry-cook's 
 would have bought a Bible for a heathen 
 family. That crown which you lavished 
 on the brooch or the bracelet would have 
 
262 THE HAPPT HOME. 
 
 bought a blanket for your poor old grand- 
 father, and many a time would his palsied 
 limbs have thanked you diu'ing these bitter 
 nigfits. And those sovereigns and tens of 
 pounds whicl'i have melted away, you know 
 not how, had tiie bank or the benefit fund* 
 received theiu, with what a Hghtened look 
 mifrht you now survey those hapless years 
 when you shall be able to work or earn no 
 longer ! What think you t Will you 
 henceforth try the plan of frugality and self- 
 
 • There is such a fund connected with the Servants* 
 Benevolent Institution, 32 Sackville street. Servants 
 sometimes lend money to relatives commencing business, 
 or to persons who offer them a tempting interest. Now, 
 a tempting interest just means a terrible risk. It means 
 that the borrower is so unlikely ever to return the loan, 
 that people whose business it is to lend money can not 
 trust them ; and therefore he is obliged to offer six and 
 eight per cent, to servants, and widowed ladies, and 
 people who know nothing of business, and are likely to 
 take the bait. In regard to relations: it may often be 
 kind and helpful to give them a present of money, but 
 a loan is neither kind nor helpful. It is not kind, for 
 you give it with the hope of getting it all again ; and it 
 is not helpful, for " easily gotten quickly goes ;" and at 
 the end of the year they will need it as much as ever. 
 In giving, you only hope for gratitude, and are pretty 
 sure to get it : in lending, people hope for both grati- 
 tude and repayment, and usually get neither. 
 
THE FAITHFUL SERVANT. 263 
 
 denial? Will you try how little may suffice 
 for your present self, and how much you 
 can save for your aged and worn-out self? 
 and how much you can spare for those dear 
 ones who do not fare so well nor lodge so 
 pleasantly as you ? Will you just count up 
 how much you have expended on the " lust 
 of the eye, and the pride of life ?" on dress, 
 and vanity, and idle show ? These fancies 
 did you no service at the time, and they 
 all have perished in the using. Be per- 
 suaded, how, to try the more excellent 
 plan ; and though you may find it hard at 
 first to pass bright ribands and silken bar- 
 gains, there is a threefold pleasure which 
 will soon requite you : the sweetness of 
 self-denial, the comfort of having somewhat 
 provided against evil days, and the luxury 
 of doing good. 
 
 But you say that I have quite mistaken 
 in supposing you unhappy in your present 
 place. The family in which Providence 
 has cast your lot is kind and considerate. 
 It is a family in which God is feared and 
 
264 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 worsliipped, and you are encouraged to 
 frequent his house, and sanctify his sabbath. 
 If so, determine that no whim nor miscon- 
 duct of yours shall ever part you from God's 
 people. Put forth your utmost efforts to 
 win their confidence, and let cheerful in- 
 dustry be your daily thank-offering to Him 
 who has so highly fivored you. And, 
 though a Christian servant will not waste 
 her master's property, whosoever that mas- 
 ter be, it is a great comfort when you think 
 that the food or fuel which you save, or the 
 furniture of which you are so careful, is 
 something husbanded for the poor, or for 
 the Christian treasury. And, though a 
 Christian servant will be active, and obliging, 
 and orderly, whatever her employers are, 
 she has another motive added, when she 
 thinks that her civility, and neatness, and 
 good stmse, are increasing the happiness of 
 a Christian home. Melancihon, the great 
 reformer, was not rich, but he loved to show 
 hospitality, and he needed to buy books, and 
 travel a great deal in the service of the 
 
THE FAITHFUL SERVANT. 265 
 
 church, and he often said that he owed it all 
 to the good manaoement of his old and 
 faithful servant, John of Sweden. And 
 just as we have known pious servants, who, 
 rather than leave a pious family, would have 
 continued to serve for notliing, so we have 
 also known Christian families who, rather 
 than see a faithful servant homeless in her 
 declining days, were glad to retain, as an 
 old friend, the inmate whom they had first 
 received beneath their roof as a servant — 
 *' not now a servant, but a mother, a sister, 
 beloved in the Lord." 
 
 23 
 
THE TRUE DISCIPLE. 
 
 This concluding paper the author respectfully in- 
 Bcribes to his more thoue^htful readers. He has been 
 frequently told that his essays are above the compre- 
 hension of " working people ;" but that complaint has 
 seldom come from themselves. Among hard-workers 
 there are many hard-thinkers, and there are thousands 
 whose capacity and education are at least equal to any- 
 tliing contained in the foregoing pages. \Vith an eye 
 to that honorable class, the readers and the thinkers 
 among his industrious fellows-citizens, the author has 
 written most of the bygone numbers ; and if some of the 
 following paragraphs are not so plain as they ought to 
 be, he would humbly beg for them the benefit of a sec- 
 ond perusal. — November 27, 1848. 
 
 Ever since the world sinned and woke 
 up to misery, there is one absentee whom 
 all have agreed in deploring. Every age 
 has asked tidino-s of her from the as:e that 
 
 o o 
 
 went before, and from the one which lame 
 after ; and even the most indolent have put 
 forth an effort, and have joined their neigh- 
 bors in searching for this fugitive. Some 
 
THE TRUE DISCirLE. 
 
 Page 266. 
 
THE TRUE DISCIPLE. 
 
 267 
 
 have dived into the billowy main, and sought 
 her in pearly grottoes and coral caves. And 
 some have bored into the solid rock, and 
 rummRged for her in the mountain roots. 
 And some have risen to where the eagles 
 poise, and have scanned in successive hori- 
 zons the habitable surface ; but all have 
 got the same report. " Where is happi- 
 ness ?" — "Not in me," cries the leafy 
 grove; "nor in me," booms the sounding 
 tide ; " nor in me," rumbles gaunt and hol- 
 low from the dusky mine. And failing to 
 detect her in life's by-paths and open ways, 
 her votaries have reared decoys or shrines 
 into which she haply might turn aside. 
 But all of them have failed entirely. Thea- 
 tres, dancing-saloons, gin-palaces, racing- 
 booths — there is no authentic instance that 
 she ever entered one of them. And though 
 some have fancied that they glimpsed her 
 — " yes, yes," they whisper, "yonder she 
 passed ; and in that hall of science, in that 
 temple of knowledge, in that sweet home, 
 you'll find her ;" by the time you reached 
 
268 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 it, tliere was a death's-hearl at the door, 
 and a " Mene Tekel" on the wall. " Not 
 in me," sighed vain philosophy ; and " not 
 in rne," re-echoed the worldling's rifled 
 home. 
 
 But where is happiness? Man knows 
 that she is not dead but disappeared ; and 
 ever since under the forbidden tree he ate 
 the bitter-sweet and startled her away, he 
 has longed to find that other and enlighten- 
 ing fruit which would reveal her to his eyes 
 again. And this is the boon which the 
 world's teachers have undertaken to supply, 
 Tliey have come from time to time, seers 
 and sages, Thales, Pythagoras, Zoroaster, 
 Epicurus, Con-fu-tze, and to humanity's 
 wondering gaze they have held up apples, 
 as they said, fresh gathered from the Tree 
 of Life. But after rushing and jostling 
 round them, and getting at great cost a prize, 
 these all proved naught to the hungry buy- 
 er. The golden apples were mere make- 
 believes ; hollow rinds, painted shells filled 
 up with trash or trifles. Some ate, and still 
 
THE TRUE DISCIPLE. 269 
 
 their soul had appetite ; others ate, and were 
 poisoned. 
 
 At last, along the path which a hundred 
 prophecies had carved and smoothed, " the 
 desire of all nations" — the Son of God — 
 appeared. And frona the paradise above 
 he fetched the long-lost secret. Himself 
 *' the truth ;" his every sentence freighted 
 with majesty, and fragrant with heaven's 
 sanctity ; it needed not the frequent miracle 
 to compel the exclamation, " Rabbi, we 
 know that thou art a teacher come from 
 God." He did not reason ; he revealed. 
 His sayings were not the conjectures of 
 keen sagacity, nor even the recollections 
 of an angel visiter ; but they were authori- 
 tative words — the insight of Omniscience, 
 the oracle of incarnate Deity. And giving 
 freely to all comers " the apples of gold" 
 from his " basket of silver," the dim and 
 the famished ate, and with open eyes look- 
 ing up, in himself they recognised the an- 
 swer to the ancient query. " What is hap- 
 piness ?" — "Come unto me," is the Sa- 
 23* 
 
270 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 vioiir*s reply ; *' come unto me, all ye that 
 labor and are heavy laden, and I will give 
 you rest. Take my yoke upon you. and 
 learn of me ; for T am meek and lowly in 
 heart : and ye shall find rest unto yoni 
 souls." — " Wliere is happiness V" Here, 
 at the feet of Ininiannel. And then, and 
 since, thousands have verified the saying. 
 In the words of Jesus they iiave discovered 
 the boon for which their understandings 
 longed — conclusive and soul-fillini:; knowl- 
 edge ; and in his person and work they have 
 found the ijood for whicli their conscience 
 craved — a saving and sanctifying Power. 
 
 To the great question, What is happi- 
 ness ? Jesus is the embodied answer — 
 at once the teacher and the lesson. The 
 question had been asked for ages, and some 
 hundred solutions had been proposed. And 
 in the outset of his ministry the Saviour took 
 it up, and gave the final answer. What is 
 happiness? "Happy are the humble. 
 Happy are the contrite. Happy are the 
 meek. Happy are they who hunger after 
 
THE TRUE DISCIPLE. 271 
 
 righteousness. Hapjoy are the merciful, 
 the pure in heart, the peace-makers, the 
 men persecuted for riojhteousness."* Tn 
 
 * The reader could not do better than go carefully 
 over the Sermon on the Mount, He will find it in the 
 fifth, sixth, and seventh chapters of Matthevp. We 
 have known of repeated instances where ])ersons re- 
 ceived their first prepossession for Christianity from that 
 matchless effusion of incarnate goodness. The follow- 
 ing passage occurs in Sir James Mackintosh's Indian 
 Journal : "I have just glanced over Jeremy Taylor on 
 the Beatitudes. The selection is made in the most 
 sublime spirit of virtue. Of their transcendent excel- 
 lence I can find no words to express my admiration and 
 reverence. ' Blessed are the merciful, for they shall ob- 
 tain mercy.' — ' Put on, my beloved, m the elect of Gody 
 bowels of mercy.' At last the divine speaker rises to 
 the summit of moral sublimity. 'Blessed are they who 
 are persecuted for righteousness' sake.' For a moment, 
 O teacher blessed, I taste the unspeakable delight of 
 feeling myself to be better. I feel, as in the days of my 
 youtli, that hunger and thirst after righteousness, which 
 long habits of infirmity, and the low concerns of the 
 world, have contributed to extinguish." — Life ii., 125. 
 At the moment when he wrote these words, we fear 
 that this fine intellect was skeptical. It was far other- 
 wise at last. His daughter says, telling of his latter 
 hours, " I said to him, 'Jesus Christ loves you ;' he an- 
 swered slowly, and, pausing between each word, ' Jesus 
 Christ — love — the same thing.' He uttered these last 
 words with a most sweet smile. After a long silence he 
 said, ' I believe — .' We said, in a voice of inquiry, ' in 
 Godr He answered, 'in Jesus.' He spoke but once 
 more after this. Upon our inquiry how he felt, he said 
 he was ' happy.' " 
 
272 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 Other words, he declared that happiness 
 is goo(hiess. A holy nature is a happy 
 one. But was not tliat a blank and con- 
 founding announcement ? To tell the 
 wicked people all around him — the fierce, 
 and quarrelsome, and licentious spirits who 
 thronged the mountain side, " Blessed are 
 the merciful, the pure, the peaceful ;" was 
 not that to lay a gravestone on their hopes ? 
 Was it not saying to his auditors, " Happi- 
 ness is goodness, and so it never can be 
 yours '?" And had the teaching of Jesus 
 ended there, he would have left mankind in 
 gloomy possession of a glorious truth ; he 
 would have left it a wiser but a sadder 
 world. But in the minds of such as felt 
 themselves guilty and unholy, that announce- 
 ment raised two other questions. Will God 
 pardon the past? x\nd if he should, how 
 are we to get those holy dispositions which 
 are so essential to blessedness? And at 
 sundry times, and in divers places, he an- 
 swered both these questions. " Will God 
 pardon ihe past?" — "Yes; for God so 
 
THE TRUE DISCIPLE. 273 
 
 loved the world, that he gave his only be- 
 gotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him 
 should not perish, but have everlasting life." 
 That is, " accept my atonement, and you 
 shall not die for your own sin. Employ 
 me as your Mediator, and eternal life is 
 your own. Believe and be forgiven." 
 Again. " Supposing sin is pardoned, how- 
 are holy dispositions to be created and fos- 
 tered in this wicked heart of mine?" — 
 *' Jesus stood and cried, If any man thirst 
 (for holiness) let him come unto me, and 
 drink. He that believeth on me, out of his 
 heart shall flow rivers of living water. This 
 spake he of the Spirit, which they that be- 
 lieve on him should receive." That is, 
 " Come to me as disciples, and be filled 
 with the Holy Ghost. Believe on me, and 
 find pure water welling through your na- 
 ture's bitter soil. Believe, and be filled 
 with holy desires and dispositions." So 
 that, in its entireness, Christ's doctrine came 
 to this — " A new and holy nature is bles- 
 sedness. Believe in me, and your nature 
 
274 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 will be new and holy, and you yourself be 
 bles^;ed." 
 
 We have said that Christ was not only 
 the j^reat Teacher, hut the i!;reat Lesson. 
 Perhaps this will be plainer if we take 
 another ^rand question. The world asks, 
 What is happiness? But that can only be 
 answered by meeting another inquiry — 
 What is God? Is he just, and good, and 
 true? And how is he disposed toward 
 sinners of our race? Is he placable? Is 
 he propitious ? Or is he stern and vindic- 
 tive, and determined to destroy us ? Or 
 is he altogether indifferent to our weal or 
 wo ? Among thoughtful men these que- 
 ries had been often mooted, and doubtless 
 the first disciples of Jesus had often mused 
 and pondered over them ; and at last, when 
 he was about to leave them, one put the 
 question express. The Master had told 
 them that the time was come, and that he 
 must now return to the Father; and feel- 
 ing that the opportunity must not be lost, 
 Philip exclaimed, " Lord, show us the 
 
THE TRUE DISCIPLE. 275 
 
 Father, and it sufficeth us." " That is the 
 very thing for which our hearts are break- 
 ing : we know not the living God. Show 
 us the Father, and fill the great gap in our 
 knowledge — the mighty chasm in our com- 
 fort." And Jesus answered, " Have T been 
 so long time with you, and yet hast thou 
 not known me, Philip? He that hath 
 
 SEEN ME, hath SEEN THE FaTHER." 
 
 As much as if he had said, " Our nature 
 is identical ; our will is one. All that you 
 need ever know of God is manifest in me. 
 You wonder if God is holy, and just, and 
 true : have you not seen me ? You won- 
 der if God is kind, and good, and loving: 
 have I been so long time with you, and yet 
 have you not known me ? You vi'onder if 
 God be gracious and ready to forgive : 
 did I scruple in receiving you ?" And so, 
 my dear friends, it is life eternal to know 
 the only true God : and you will know 
 him if you know Jesus, whom he has sent. 
 The Son is the express image of the Father; 
 and if you would have confidence toward 
 
276 
 
 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 God, you must take the Lord Jesus as 
 your theology. Do not think that the 
 Fatlier is less compassionate, less con- 
 descending, les.< forgiving, than the Son. 
 Do not think of him as less mindful of 
 you, or less loving. Do not think of him 
 as less willing for your salvation than the 
 Redeemer who died on Calvary; or less 
 ready to hear and answer prayer than that 
 In ercessor in whose name your prayers 
 ascend. He that hath seen the Son hath 
 seen the Father; and if you would escape 
 false terror, and ignorant surmisings, and 
 idolatrous illusions, tuink of Jesus when 
 you think of God. 
 
 In order to be truly happy, you must 
 have some sufficient end in living. And 
 this, again, has moved much controversy. 
 What is the object to which an immortal 
 nature may devote itself most worthily? 
 Which is the highest good? And some 
 have answered, truth. They have con- 
 secrated their days and nights to learning, 
 and have lived and labored for the true. 
 
THE TRUE DISCIPLE. 277 
 
 And others have maintained that the very 
 crown of excellence is beauty; and in 
 painting, or verse, or music, they have 
 yearned and struggled toward their fair and 
 ever-soaring ideal. And others averring 
 that GOODNESS is the truest joy — that moral 
 rectitude is the topmost apex and converg- 
 ing goal to which all intelligence should tend 
 and travel — they have resolved to spend 
 and be spent for this, and have lived and 
 died the devotees of virtue. But if you, 
 my friends, understand the gospel, you have 
 found the true philosophy; if you know 
 Christ, you have learned the supreme 
 FELICITY. In the Alpha and Omega — 
 in the all-inclusive Excellence — in Imnian- 
 uel, you possess at once the good, the true, 
 the beautiful : the good, for he is the Holy 
 One of God ; — the true, for he is the 
 Amen — the truth-speaking and truth-im 
 bodying I Am ; — the beautiful, for — him- 
 self the perfection of beauty — to one vision 
 of his infinite mind his Omnipotence said, 
 " Let it be," and in this fair universe you 
 24 
 
278 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 behold the result. Yes, it is a blessed 
 thinij^ to have a life ri<^htly directed and 
 worthily bestowed ; not to live for a phan- 
 tom, but for somethin<^ real ; not to live; 
 for something insufficient or subordinate, 
 but for a high and glorious end ; not to 
 live for something alien or irrelevant, 
 but for an object which claims and can 
 requite your service. Live to Christ, and 
 then you live to highest purpose. Live to 
 Christ, and tiien you live to him who loved 
 you, and gave himself for you. Live to 
 Christ, and then you have a patron, beneath 
 whose smile you may dive into the deepest 
 truth, and soar into the highest beauty. 
 Live to Christ, and then you have an 
 Almighty Friend, into whose arms you 
 may consign your worldly calling and your 
 dearest friends ; and, after he has " put his 
 hands upon them and blessed them," may 
 receive them back, no longer stolen joys, 
 but hallowed loans, and mercies bright with 
 a Redeemer's benison. Live to Christ, 
 and then your soul is joined to that fount- 
 
THE TRUE DISCIPLE. 279 
 
 ain of unfailino; strength, which gives at 
 once the zest and power of goodness. If 
 you would serve your family, your coun- 
 try, your friends, live to Jesus Christ. If 
 you would have your existence raised to 
 its lushest level, and yonr faculties drawn 
 forth to their fullest exercise, with you let it 
 "to live" be "Christ." And if you would 
 begin betimes that devout and benignant 
 life which Heaven prolongs and perfects, 
 learn from Jesus how to live. 
 
 For it is in the living Saviour that we 
 must learn the great life-lesson. Jesus was 
 divine, but he was also human. He dwelt 
 among us not only to show us what God is, 
 but what we should be. He left to his 
 people an example that they should follow 
 his steps ; and the best idea of a Christian 
 is " one in whom the life of Jesus is once 
 more manifest." We greatly needed such 
 a pattern. We did not want so much one 
 who should give us new rules and direc- 
 tions how to live, as one who should him- 
 self be a noble specimen. And Jesus was 
 
280 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 that specimen. In books, and especially 
 in the inspired writin^^^s, holy character had 
 been minutely described, and the rule of 
 conduct had been carefully laid down. 
 But what others taught, Jesus did and 
 Jesus was. Before his appearing, too, 
 there had been some splendid instances 
 of isolated excellence — virtues blazing, by 
 ones and twos, from dark and defective 
 natures ; but reabsorbing into his illustrious 
 excellence all these scattered beams, the 
 character of Jesus exhibited no defect nor 
 dimness. Without a spot he shone, the 
 Sun of Righteousness — without eclipse or 
 obscuration, "the Light of the world" — a 
 living Decalogue, where each command 
 was inscribed in letters of brightness on 
 tablets of love. 
 
 Behold him — how devout. There was 
 one thing whicn made the Man of sorrows 
 still the Man of joys. He could not lose 
 the sense of the Father's love. There 
 spread constantly round him that melodious 
 baptism which first issued from the excel- 
 
THE TRUE DISCIPLE. 281 
 
 lent glory, " This is my beloved Son, in 
 whom I am well pleased." In the strength 
 of this assurance, he journeyed day by 
 day, and found it meat and drink to do his 
 Father's will. And when the toilsome 
 day was done, and he pensively eyed the 
 fox leaving his lair and the bird wending 
 home to her eyry, though his worn body 
 knew no couch, his happy spirit sought 
 its home in the bosom of its God. The 
 Father loved him, and that love was the 
 rod and staff of pilgrim Messiah. It led 
 him in the paths of righteousness, and 
 comforted him in the valley of death- 
 shadow; and as soon as in his darkest 
 night he waved its transforming wand, 
 Gethsemane lit up green pasture, and 
 Kedron spread out still water. 
 
 And so, dear reader, do you enter into 
 the Saviour's joy. In becoming his disci- 
 ple, he says, " My peace I give unto you." 
 That same peace which was his constant 
 portion here below, he bought for sinners 
 with his blood. And nothing can you do 
 24* 
 
282 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 to the Redeemer more joyful, and to the 
 Father more glorifyin<^, and to your own 
 soul more hallowing, that when in the sure- 
 ty's name you claim the peace of God. 
 Love Jesus, and the Father himself will 
 love you ; and instead of skulking through 
 life a culprit or a convict, " accepted in the 
 Beloved," you may lift up the eye of a 
 dear and trustful child. If you would have 
 your affections fixed to God, the cord of 
 his own love must fasten them. If you 
 would be strong for work or trial, the j'oy 
 of the Lord must be your strength. If 
 you would possess a deep and genuine ho- 
 liness, the very God of peace must be your 
 sanctifier. And if, when times are dark — 
 when the world looks gloomy, or shadows 
 from the sepulchre are creeping round you 
 — if you would still have brightness on 
 your onward path, learn to Jook up to God 
 in Christ as your own God for ever and for 
 ever. 
 
 And see him — so pure of purpose. 
 Placed before you is a casket of gold, and 
 
THE TRUE DISCIPLE. 283 
 
 you are asked to guess what it contains ; 
 and looking at its exquisite tracery and 
 costly material, you think of a blazing dia- 
 mond or a monarch's signet-ring. Guess ? 
 You can not guess. They open it, and re- 
 veal a spider, a scorpion, or a spinning- 
 worm ! And surveying a human soul, you 
 view the finest casket in this world. Made 
 on a heavenly pattern, with powers so ca- 
 pacious, and feelings so susceptible, in or- 
 der to be worthily occupied, it would need 
 to be filled with some lofty purpose, some 
 pure and noble motive. My reader, you 
 have got that casket. What have you put 
 in it ? What is the thing which chiefly 
 occupies your thoughts? Your great pur- 
 suit and pleasure ? What impels you to 
 exertion ? Is it money ? Is it popularity 
 and praise? Is it dress? Is it dainty 
 food ? Is it some fierce and evil passion ? 
 Is it envy? Is it resentment? Is it self- 
 ishness? Is it the wish to achieve your own 
 personal ease and comfort ? Is it something 
 so paltry that you are ashamed to call it the 
 
284 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 business of life? — something so baleful 
 that it degrades and destroys the heart which 
 hides it ? Viewed in his world-ward as- 
 pect, the Saviour's one motive was philan- 
 thropy. His life-long business was to do 
 good to the bodies and the souls of those 
 around him. To pluck brands from the 
 burning, to instruct the ignorant, to reclaim 
 the vicious, to restore the fallen, to convert 
 the soul, to lighten the burden of wo, to 
 heal disease, to banish misery, to bind up 
 the broken heart — this was his daily call- 
 ing, this was his continuous pursuit. *' I 
 must do cures to-day and to-morrow, and 
 the third day I shall be glorified." Nico- 
 demus did not come so late but that he was 
 glad to see him, and the Samaritan woman 
 did not find him so exhausted, but the hope 
 of saving her soul made him forgetful of 
 fatio^ue. And so pure was this passion, so 
 irrespective of accidental circumstances, or 
 of the present attractiveness of its objects, that 
 the leper and the lunatic, the blind beggar 
 and the howling demoniac, Malchus in the 
 
THE TRUE DISCIPLE. 285 
 
 act of arresting him, and the very men who 
 slew him, all came in for an ungrudging 
 share. His last prayer was intercession ; 
 his last business was beneficence. " Father, 
 forgive them;" — "Woman, behold thy 
 son ; Disciple, behold thy mother ;" and 
 having prayed for his murderers and provi- 
 ded for Mary a home, from the contiguous 
 cross he bore with him to Paradise, as love's 
 last trophy, the spirit of the ransomed thief. 
 Reader, let the mind be in you which 
 was in Christ Jesus. Seek to have your 
 bosom filled with pure kindness and holy 
 compassion — a compassion various as is 
 human sorrow — a kindness which shall 
 still be flowing while life itself is ebbing. 
 Cease to be selfish. Learn the blessedness 
 of doing good. Even you can contribute 
 to that great work — the making of a bad 
 world better. Is there no acquaintance over 
 whom you have influence? None whom 
 you might reclaim from a bad habit? None 
 whom you might induce to read some use- 
 ful book, or attend the house of God ? Are 
 
286 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 there no poor rhiklreii whom you might 
 collect on a sahhalh afternoon, and teach 
 them a Bible lesson ? Is there no sick 
 neighbor to whom you might carry a little 
 comfort — something nice to tempt his list- 
 less palate? No invalid friend whom you 
 might cheer with an hour of your company, 
 or to whom yoii might read or say some- 
 thing for the good of his soul "? At all events, 
 you can be doing good at home. You can 
 minister to the wants of some aged parent. 
 You can sooth the grief of some bereaved 
 relation. You can lend a helping hand, and 
 lighten their labors who have got too much 
 to do. With a firm but fatherly control, 
 you can guide your children in wisdom's 
 ways. And you can diffuse throughout 
 your dwelling that sweetest music — cheer- 
 ful and approving words ; that brightest 
 light — the clear shining of a cordial coun- 
 tenance. And when God in his Providence 
 sends favorable opportunities, with self- 
 denied and prayerful affection, you may be 
 the means of stamping on some immortal 
 
THE TRUE DISCIPLE. 287 
 
 mind a truth or lesson as enduring as that 
 mind itself. 
 
 Then, too, observe how simple and how 
 genuine was his character ! how free from 
 extremeness or reserve ! " The Son of 
 man came eating and drinking." He wore 
 the common dress of the country. He 
 spoke the common language. So far as 
 they were innocent, he fell in with all the 
 common usages of the people around him. 
 And some were annoyed at this. They 
 wished that he would make himself singu- 
 lar. They would have liked him to ke^p 
 more aloof. Like his predecessor, John 
 the Baptist, they would have preferred that 
 he had dwelt in the desert, and fasted, and 
 worn a hairy mantle or some peculiar garb. 
 They could have wished to see him issue 
 on the world from some dim cloister, and 
 in stately speech give forth his mystic ora- 
 cle, and once more vanish from the view. 
 But they fancied that they knew all about 
 him — his birthplace, his parentage, his 
 habits ; and so long as he lived this open 
 
TWE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 and explicit life they could not surround 
 him with an odor of sanctity. They were 
 too gross to perceive how much of Heaven 
 he carried into Cana's feast, and with what 
 a god-like purpose he went to be the guest 
 of Mattiiew or Zaccht'us. They forgot how 
 much nobler is the piety which hallows 
 common life, than tlie demureness which 
 flies away from it. iVnd they did not know 
 that he was doing all this on purpose. He 
 meant his example to be a pattern to com- 
 mon people, and therefore he frequented 
 the ordinary resorts, and livefl the familiar 
 life of men. But tliough he might now be 
 seen in the market-place or under the tem- 
 ple-piazza, surrounded with people from 
 the shops and stalls ; and though you might 
 this afternoon meet him amidst lawyers and 
 courtiers, in the house of Simon the Phar- 
 isee ; and though you might overtake him 
 next morning seated under a wayside tree, 
 and discoursing freely to his peasant-follow- 
 ers ; and though on all these occasions there 
 was no assumption, no reserve, no artifice, 
 
THE TRUE DISCIPLE. 
 
 there was," at the same time, no weakness, 
 no sanction to vice or folly. There was all 
 the refinement of a most delicate benevo- 
 lence, and all the majesty of a nature sep- 
 arate from sin. His every movement was 
 innocence ; his every utterance was purity. 
 His character was like the sunbeam, visit- 
 ing without degradation the poorest hovel, 
 and contracting no stain from the evils which 
 it failed to extinguish. 
 
 Reader, you are living in that world in 
 which the Lord Jesus chose for a season 
 to reside. If your piety be sound and 
 strong enough, common life will not make 
 you carnal. Have grace in your heart. 
 Live under the eye of God. Live in the 
 name of Jesus. Take your Master for 
 your model. Pray and labor to be in the 
 world as its sinless Visiter was. And if 
 God should give you the spirit of true dis- 
 cipleship, there will be a beautiful complete- 
 ness in your character. You will not need 
 to study your appearance, nor to be nervous 
 about people's opinions ; for by its self- 
 25 
 
290 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 -sustaining sincerity, your conduct will soon- 
 er or later achieve its own viiifiication, and 
 in her child shall Wisdom be justified. In 
 your common talk there will be no scurrility 
 nor scandal ; nothing false, nothing unseem- 
 ly, nothing base nor vile. In your ordinary 
 acting, there will be no crooks nor crotchets ; 
 nothing shabby or unfair; nothing cruel or 
 oppressive ; nothing for which conscience 
 can not render a good reason. But those 
 who knelt with you at family prayer will 
 recognise the same man when they meet 
 you in the mart or the work-room ; and 
 those who last saw you in the festive circle 
 will not be startled when they find them- 
 selves beside you at the communion-table. 
 
 If this sketch be plain enough, you will 
 perceive that it is to three things that the 
 mission of Jesus Christ owes its main im- 
 portance : — 
 
 He is the manifestation of God. 
 
THE TRUE DISCIPLE. 291 
 
 He is the Mediator between God and 
 man. 
 
 And he is the model to his redeemed and 
 regenerate people. 
 
 He is God manifest. No man hath seen 
 the Father but the Son, and he to whom 
 the Son hath revealed him. He that hath 
 seen Jesus hath seen the Father. He is 
 the express image of the Father ; and as 
 embodying all the perfections and disposi- 
 tions of the invisible Godhead, Jesus is to 
 our race the one theology. 
 
 He is also Mediator. His cross is the 
 meeting-place betwixt God and the sinner. 
 His blood is the sacrifice which makes it a 
 righteous thing in God to cancel guilt, and 
 receive the returning transgressor. His 
 gospel is the white flag, the truce-proclaim- 
 ing banner, which announces Jehovah's 
 amnesty, and says to every rebel, Be rec- 
 onciled to a reconciling God. His merit 
 is the censer which perfumes the sinner's 
 prayer, and makes it prevalent with a holy 
 God. His intercession is that secret influ- 
 
292 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 ence within the veil, which secures for his 
 Church and its believins^ members the gift 
 of the Holy Ghost. His love is the balm 
 of life; his presence the antidote of death; 
 his f]:lory, seen and shared, the joy of 
 heaven. So that, as the source and con- 
 summation of all our s^reatest blessings, 
 Jesus is the Supreme Felicity. 
 
 And he is the pattern of his believing 
 people. All that was human in his earthly 
 walk is for our example, that we should 
 follow his steps. And with such a trans- 
 forming agent promised as is the Holy 
 Ghost, and with such a pattern propounded 
 as the perfect Saviour, there is no limit to 
 the excellence, inward and outward, after 
 which the followers of Jesus should aspire. 
 To be " like him" is the privilege of 
 a perfect world; — but how gloriously 
 near to that likeness even now his loving 
 people may attain, the Bible nowhere 
 limits. But the believer, whose character 
 is strong without hardness, and gentle with- 
 out weakness — who is consumed with the 
 
THE TRUE DISCIPLE. 293 
 
 zeal of God, and who still olows with good 
 will to man — who is spiritual but not sanc- 
 timonious, diligent and withal devout, vigor- 
 ous in action and patient in endurance, — 
 that consistent disciple bears the visible 
 lineaments of the Elder Brother. And as 
 supplying our world with the first and only 
 instance of excellence fully developed and 
 perfectly proportioned — goodness in its 
 entireness, and each o^race in its inten- 
 sity — the life of Jesus is the great text- 
 book of ethics — the grand lesson in prac- 
 tical piety. 
 
 You also perceive that Christianity, or 
 the knowledge of Christ, is "the most excel- 
 lent of all the sciences." Some knowledge 
 is entertaining, and some is useful ; but this 
 knowledge is essential. Without it you 
 can not gain peace of conscience, nor that 
 refinement and elevation of character which 
 itself is happiness ; and without it you can 
 not secure a blissful immortality. And of 
 all the sciences which treat the great ques- 
 tion of human happiness, this alone is solid ; 
 25* 
 
294 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 for this alone is constructed from facts and 
 confirmed by experience. Some theories 
 are popular from age to age, but they are 
 human compilations, and, like snow-statues 
 reared in pprin<r, the influence is already 
 working which will melt them again. And 
 other theories gleam before the fancy pas- 
 sing fair, and as they can not be cauirht, 
 they can neither be confuted nor con- 
 firmed. Like the aurora, they flicker and 
 amuse, but they can not be employed for 
 practical purposes; you can not collect 
 and retain them to light your chamber or 
 your streets. But Christianity is as prac- 
 tical as it is sublime ; and while it has 
 truths which surpass the loftiest intellect, it 
 has applications which suit the lowliest pur- 
 poses. And it has a distinction peculiar 
 to itself, one which should recommend it 
 now, even as it will endear it on a dying 
 day; it is the only revelation. God 
 was in it at the first — God is in it still. 
 Hearkening to other teachers, you may 
 learn truth and falsehood together ; but sit- 
 
THE TRUE DISCIPLE. 205 
 
 ting at the feet of Jesus, you can learn no 
 error there. Listening to his words, you 
 hear the voice of God, and nothing will 
 need to be unlearned in eternity which you 
 have once acquired from him. 
 
 In the old schools of philosophy, it was 
 usual for the pupils to bring a present to 
 their teacher at the commencement of each 
 term. And on one of these occasions, 
 wlien his disciples, one by one, were going 
 up with their gifts to Socrates, a poor youth 
 hung back, and there was sometfiing like a 
 blush upon his cheek, and something like a 
 tear in his eye, for silver and gold he had 
 none. But when all the rest had gone for- 
 ward and presented their offering, he flung 
 himself at the feet of the sage, and cried, 
 *' O Socrates, I give thee myself." And 
 this is the offering which the Lord Jesus 
 asks of you. Give him yourself. Rise, 
 take up the cross, and follow him. In 
 modesty and affection, become his disciple, 
 and he will not only make you welcome to 
 his lessons, but he will make you a sharer 
 
296 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 in his heavenly life. He will jrive yon the 
 Holy Spirit. That divine EnliglUener will 
 open your understanding to receive the 
 Saviour'? doctrine, and will fill your soul 
 with truth's vitality. And do not despond 
 because of what you at present are. " This 
 man receiveth sinners;" and in receiving 
 you, he will make you a " new creature." 
 Arise, he calleth you. Become his disci- 
 ple ; and, like John, imbibing sanctity from 
 the bosom where he laid his listening ear — 
 like Thomas, lingering near hi% person, but 
 carrying in his heart a stony doubt, a stub- 
 born misgiving, till, in the flash of over- 
 whelming evidence, that doubt, that mis- 
 giving, was fused into faith and weeping 
 wonder — like Paul, who, in every pulse 
 of his intensified existence, felt the life of 
 Jesus throb, and who, next to the desire of 
 being with him, burned with ardor to be 
 like him, — however scanty your present 
 knowledge, you will learn in proportion as 
 you love ; however many your present 
 doubts, they will all be drowned in adora- 
 
THE TRTTE DISCIPLE. 297 
 
 tion and astonishment, while you can only 
 cry, " My Lord, and my God !" And 
 however defective your present character, 
 there will be kindled in your soul a hope 
 and an effort — the hope that when he ap- 
 pears, you shall be like him — the effort to 
 purify yourself as Christ is oure. 
 
 Farewell, my reader. To write 
 these papers has been a pleasant task. I 
 have liked the thought that I was working 
 for working men. It has carried me back 
 to the days when the gospel was new and 
 the Church was young ; and it has more 
 endeared that heavenly Teacher of whom 
 it is recorded, " the common people heard 
 him gladly." Much would I delight to 
 visit your abode, and learn if these friendly 
 hints have done you any good; — but life 
 is short, and labors multiply. Most likely 
 this is all our earthly intercourse, and, 
 except with pen and ink, I may never be 
 
298 THE HAPPY HOME. 
 
 able to say, " Peace be to this house." 
 But in the Father's house are many man- 
 sions. As the Saviour's humble disciples, 
 may we meet in that happiest home ! 
 
 THE END. 
 
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