A robin had built its nest on the vine; and often as she sat watching her sleeping mother, she had been cheered with its sprightly note, and maternal care of its young. She looked to the nest—the birds had flown;—"They too," she exclaimed, "have deserted this house of sorrow."
"No, Jane;" replied Mary, "they have been provided with another home, and He who careth for them, will care much more for you."
Mary might have quoted (but she was not addicted to any profane works,) the beautiful language of a native poet—
| "He who from zone to zone Guides through the boundless sky their certain flight, In the long way that you must trace alone Will guide your steps aright." |
"We shall not," she said, "be at your aunt's in time for breakfast; here, tie on your hat, you will need all your strength and courage, and you must not waste any on flowers and birds."
Jane obeyed the wise admonition of her friend; and with faltering steps, and without allowing herself time to look again at any thing, hastily passed through the little court yard in front of their house.
The morning was clear and bright; and stimulated by the pure air, and nerved by the counsels Mary suggested as they walked along, Jane entered her new home with a composed, timid manner.
Perhaps her timidity appealing to Mrs. Wilson's love of authority, produced a softer feeling than she had before shown to Jane; or perhaps, (for scarcely any nature is quite hardened,) the forlornness of the child awakened a transient sentiment of compassion—she gave her her hand, and told her she was welcome. The children stared at her, as if they had never seen her before, but Jane's down-cast eye, a little clouded by the gathering tears, saved her from feeling the gaze of their vulgar curiosity.
Jane, in entering the family of Mrs. Wilson, was introduced to as new a scene as if she had been transported to a foreign country.
Mrs. Wilson's character might have been originally cast in the same mould with Mr. Elton's, but circumstances had given it a different modification. She had married early in life a man, who, not having energy enough for the exercise of authority, was weak and vain, tenacious of the semblance, and easily cozened by the shadow, when his wife retained the substance. Mrs. Wilson, without having the pride of her nature at all subdued, became artful and trickish; she was sordid and ostentatious, a careful fellow-worker with her husband in the acquisition of their property, she secured to herself all the praise in the expending it. Whenever a contribution was levied for an Education or Tract Society, for Foreign Missions, the Cherokees, or Osages—Mrs. Wilson accompanied her donation, which on the whole was quite handsome, with a remark, that what she did give, she gave with a willing heart; that, women could not command much money, but it was the duty of wives to submit themselves to their husbands. After Mrs. Wilson became sole mistress of her estate, the simple and credulous, who remembered her professions, wondered her gifts were not enlarged with her liberty. But Mrs. Wilson would say, that the widow was the prey of the wicked, and that her duty to her children prevented her indulging her generous feelings towards those pious objects which lay nearest her heart.
Mrs. Wilson had fancied herself one of the subjects of an awakening at an early period of her life; had passed through the ordeal of a church-examination with great credit, having depicted in glowing colours the opposition of her natural heart to the decrees, and her subsequent joy in the doctrine of election. She thus assumed the form of godliness, without feeling its power. Are there not many such: some who, in those times of excitement, during which many pass from indifference to holiness, and many are converted from sin to righteousness, delude themselves and others with vain forms of words, and professions of faith?
Mrs. Wilson was often heard to denounce those who insisted on the necessity of good works, as Pharisees;—she was thankful, she said, that she should not presume to appear before her Judge with any of the 'filthy rags of her own righteousness;'—it would be easy getting to heaven if the work in any way depended on ourselves;—any body could 'deal justly, love mercy, and walk humbly.' How easy it is, we leave to those to determine, who have sought to adjust their lives by this divine rule.
Mrs. Wilson rejected the name of the Pharisee, but the proud, oppressive, bitter spirit of the Jewish bigot was manifest in the complacency with which she regarded her own faith, and the illiberality she cherished towards every person, of every denomination, who did not believe what she believed, and act according to her rule of right. As might be expected, her family was regulated according to 'the letter,' but the 'spirit that giveth life' was not there. Religion was the ostensible object of every domestic arrangement; but you might look in vain for the peace and good will which a voice from heaven proclaimed to be the objects of the mission of our Lord.
Mrs. Wilson's children produced such fruits as might be expected from her culture. The timid among them had recourse to constant evasion, and to the meanest artifices to hide the violation of laws which they hated; and the bolder were engaged in a continual conflict with the mother, in which rebellion often trampled on authority.
Jane had been gently led in the bands of love. She had been taught even more by the example than the precepts of her mother.
She had seen her mother bear with meekness the asperity and unreasonableness of her father's temper, and often turn away his wrath with a soft answer.
The law of imitation is deeply impressed on our nature. Jane had insensibly fallen into her mother's ways, and had, thus early, acquired a habit of self-command. Mrs. Elton, though, alas, negligent of some of her duties, watched over the expanding character of her child, with Christian fidelity. "There she had garnered up her heart." She knew that amiable dispositions were not to be trusted, and she sought to fortify her child's mind with Christian principles. She sowed the seed, and looked with undoubting faith for the promised blessing.
"I must soon sleep," she would say to Mary, "but the seed is already springing up. I am sure it will not lack the dews of Heaven; and you, Mary, may live to see, though I shall not, 'first the blade, then the ear, and after that the full corn in the ear.'"
Mary had seconded Mrs. Elton's efforts. She looked upon herself as an humble instrument; but she was a most efficient one. She had a rare and remarkable knack at applying rules, so that her life might be called a commentary on the precepts of the Gospel. Mary's practical religion had, sometimes, conveyed a reproach (the only reproach a Christian may indulge in) to Mrs. Wilson, who revenged herself by remarking, that "Mary was indulging in that soul-destroying doctrine of the Methodists—perfection;" and then she would add, (jogging her foot, a motion that, with her, always indicated a mental parallel, the result of which was, 'I am holier than thou,') there is no error so fatal, as resting in the duties of the second table." Mrs. Wilson had not learned, that the duties of the second table cannot be done, if the others are left undone; the branches must be sustained by the trunk; for he, from whose wisdom there is no appeal, has said, "If ye love me, ye will keep my commandments."
Happily for our little friend, Mary was not to be removed far from her; an agreeable situation was, unexpectedly, offered to her grateful acceptance.
CHAPTER III.
| Now Spring returns, but not to me returns The vernal year my better days have known; Dim in my breast life's dying taper burns, And all the joys of life with health are flown.Bruce. |
A few weeks before the death of Mrs. Elton, a Mr. Lloyd, a Quaker, who was travelling with his wife and infant child, for the benefit of Mrs. Lloyd's health, had stopped at the inn in ———. Mrs. Lloyd was rapidly declining with a consumption. On this day she had, as is not unfrequent in the fluctuation of this disease, felt unusually well. Her cough was lulled by the motion of the carriage, and she had requested her husband to permit her to ride further than his prudence would have dictated.
The