,,bitter-,,sweet ,a ,poem ,by ,j4 ,g4 ,,holland ,,contents4 99 99 99 99 99 ,,picture ,,persons ,,prelude ,,first ,,movement--,,colloquial4 ,the ,question ,stated and ,argued ,,first ,,episode4 ,the ,question ,illustrated by ,nature ,,second ,,movement--,,narrative4 ,the ,question ,illustrated by ,experience ,,second ,,episode4 ,the ,question ,illustrated by ,story ,,third ,,movement--,,dramatic4 ,the ,question ,illustrated by the ,denouement ,l',,envoy ,,picture4 ,winter's wild birthnight6 ,in the fretful ,east ,the uneasy wind moans with its sense of cold1 ,and sends its sighs through gloomy mountain gorge1 ,along the valley1 up the whitening hill1 ,to tease the sighing spirits of the pines1 ,and waste in dismal woods their chilly life4 ,the sky is dark1 and on the huddled leaves-- ,the restless1 rustling leaves--sifts down its sleet1 ,till the sharp crystals pin them to the earth1 ,and they grow still beneath the rising storm4 ,the roofless bullock hugs the sheltering stack1 ,with cringing head and closely gathered feet1 ,and waits with dumb endurance for the morn4 ,deep in a gusty cavern of the barn ,the witless calf stands blatant at his chain2 ,while the brute mother1 pent within her stall1 ,with the wild stress of instinct goes distraught1 ,and frets her horns1 and bellows through the night4 ,the stream runs black2 and the far waterfall ,that sang so sweetly through the summer eyes1 ,and swelled and swayed to ,zephyr's softest breath1 ,leaps with a sullen roar the dark abyss1 ,and howls its hoarse responses to the wind4 ,the mill is still4 ,the distant factory1 ,that swarmed yestreen with many-fingered life1 ,and bridged the river with a hundred bars ,of molten light1 is dark1 and lifts its bulk1 ,with dim1 uncertain angles1 to the sky4 99 99 99 99 99 ,yet lower bows the storm4 ,the leafless trees ,lash their lithe limbs1 and1 with majestic voice1 ,call to each other through the deepening gloom2 ,and slender trunks that lean on burly boughs ,shriek with the sharp abrasion2 and the oak1 ,mellowed in fiber by unnumbered frosts1 ,yields to the shoulder of the ,titan ,blast1 ,forsakes its poise1 and1 with a booming crash1 ,sweeps a fierce passage to the smothered rocks1 ,and lies a shattered ruin4 99 99 99 99 99 ,other scene3-- ,across the swale1 half up the pine-capped hill1 ,stands the old farmhouse with its clump of barns-- ,the old red farmhouse--dim and dun to-night1 ,save where the ruddy firelights from the hearth ,flap their bright wings against the window panes1-- ,a billowy swarm that beat their slender bars1 ,or seek the night to leave their track of flame ,upon the sleet1 or sit1 with shifting feet ,and restless plumes1 among the poplar boughs-- ,the spectral poplars1 standing at the gate4 ,and now a man1 erect1 and tall1 and strong1 ,whose thin white hair1 and cheeks of furrowed bronze1 ,and ancient dress1 betray the patriarch1 ,stands at the window1 listening to the storm2 ,and as the fire leaps with a wilder flame-- ,moved by the wind--it wraps and glorifies ,his stalwart frame1 until it flares and glows ,like the old prophets1 in transfigured guise1 ,that shape the sunset for cathedral aisles4 ,and now it passes1 and a sweeter shape ,stands in its place4 ,o blest maternity6 ,hushed on her bosom1 in a light embrace1 ,her baby sleeps1 wrapped in its long white robe2 ,and as the flame1 with soft1 auroral sweeps1 ,illuminates the pair1 how like they seem1 ,o ,virgin ,mother6 to thyself and thine6 ,now ,samuel comes with curls of burning gold ,to hearken to the voice of ,god without3 ,speak1 mighty ,one6 ,thy little servant hears6 ,and ,miriam1 maiden1 from her household cares ,comes to the window in her loosened robe1-- ,comes with the blazing timbrels in her hand1-- ,and1 as the noise of winds and waters swells1 ,it shapes the song of triumph to her lips3 ,the horse and he who rode are overthrown6 ,and now a man of noble port and brow1 ,and aspect of benignant majesty1 ,assumes the vacant niche1 while either side ,press the fair forms of children1 and ,i hear3 ,suffer the little ones to come to me6 ,,persons4 ,here dwells the good old farmer1 ,israel1 ,in his ancestral home--a ,puritan ,who reads his ,bible daily1 loves his ,god1 ,and lives serenely in the faith of ,christ4 ,for threescore years and ten his life has run ,through varied scenes of happiness and woe2 ,but1 constant through the wide vicissitude1 ,he has confessed the ,giver of his joys1 ,and kissed the hand that took them2 and whene'er ,bereavement has oppressed his soul with grief1 ,or sharp misfortune stung his heart with pain1 ,he has bowed down in childlike faith1 and said1 ,thy will1 ,o ,god--,thy will be done1 not mine6 ,his gentle wife1 a dozen summers since1 ,passed from his faithful arms and went to heaven2 ,and her best gift--a maiden sweetly named-- ,his daughter ,ruth--orders the ancient house1 ,and fills her mother's place beside the board1 ,and cheers his life with songs and industry4 ,but who are these who crowd the house to-night-- ,a happy throng8 ,wayfaring pilgrims1 who1 ,grateful for shelter1 charm the golden hours ,with the sweet jargon of a festival8 ,who are these fathers8 who these mothers8 who ,these pleasant children1 rude with health and joy8 ,it is the ,puritan's ,thanksgiving ,eve2 ,and gathered home1 from fresher homes around1 ,the old man's children keep the holiday-- ,in dear ,new ,england1 since the fathers slept-- ,the sweetest holiday of all the year4 ,john comes with ,prudence and her little girls1 ,and ,peter1 matched with ,patience1 brings his boys-- ,fair boys and girls with good old ,scripture names-- ,joseph1 ,rebekah1 ,paul1 and ,samuel2 ,and ,grace1 young ,ruth's companion in the house1 ,till wrested from her last ,thanksgiving ,day ,by the strong hand of ,love1 brings home her babe ,and the tall poet ,david1 at whose side ,she went away4 ,and seated in the midst1 ,mary1 a foster-daughter of the house1 ,of alien blood--self-aliened many a year-- ,whose chastened face and melancholy eyes ,bring all the wondering children to her knee1 ,weeps with the strange excess of happiness1 ,and sighs with joy4 ,what recks the driving storm ,of such a scene as this8 ,and what reck these ,of such a storm8 ,for every heavy gust ,that smites the windows with its cloud of sleet1 ,and shakes the sashes with its ghostly hands1 ,and rocks the mansion till the chimney's throat ,through all its sooty caverns shrieks and howls1 ,they give full bursts of careless merriment1 ,or songs that send it baffled on its way4 ,,prelude4 ,doubt takes to wings on such a night as this2 ,and while the traveler hugs her fluttering cloak1 ,and staggers o'er the weary waste alone1 ,beneath a pitiless heaven1 they flap his face1 ,and wheel above1 or hunt his fainting soul1 ,as1 with relentless greed1 a vulture throng1 ,with their lank shadows mock the glazing eyes ,of the last camel of the caravan4 ,and ,faith takes forms and wings on such a night4 ,where love burns brightly at the household hearth1 ,and from the altar of each peaceful heart ,ascends the fragrant incense of its thanks1 ,and every pulse with sympathetic throb ,tells the true rhythm of trustfulest content1 ,they flutter in and out1 and touch to smiles ,the sleeping lips of infancy2 and fan ,the blush that lights the modest maiden's cheeks2 ,and toss the locks of children at their play4 ,silence is vocal if we listen well2 ,and ,life and ,being sing in dullest ears ,from morn to night1 from night to morn again1 ,with fine articulations2 but when ,god ,disturbs the soul with terror1 or inspires ,with a great joy1 the words of ,doubt and ,faith ,sound quick and sharp like drops on forest leaves2 ,and we look up to where the pleasant sky ,kisses the thunder-caps1 and drink the song4 ,a ,,song ,,of ,,doubt4 ,the day is quenched1 and the sun is fled2 ,god has forgotten the world6 ,the moon is gone1 and the stars are dead2 ,god has forgotten the world6 ,evil has won in the horrid feud ,of ages with ,the ,throne2 ,evil stands on the neck of ,good1 ,and rules the world alone4 ,there is no good2 there is no ,god2 ,and ,faith is a heartless cheat ,who bares the back for the ,devil's rod1 ,and scatters thorns for the feet4 ,what are prayers in the lips of death1 ,filling and chilling with hail8 ,what are prayers but wasted breath ,beaten back by the gale8 ,the day is quenched1 and the sun is fled2 ,god has forgotten the world6 ,the moon is gone and the stars are dead2 ,god has forgotten the world6 ,a ,,song ,,of ,,faith4 ,day will return with a fresher boon2 ,god will remember the world6 ,night will come with a newer moon2 ,god will remember the world6 ,evil is only the slave of ,good2 ,sorrow the servant of ,joy2 ,and the soul is mad that refuses food ,of the meanest in ,god's employ4 ,the fountain of joy is fed by tears1 ,and love is lit by the breath of sighs2 ,the deepest griefs and the wildest fears ,have holiest ministries4 ,strong grows the oak in the sweeping storm2 ,safely the flower sleeps under the snow2 ,and the farmer's hearth is never warm ,till the cold wind starts to blow4 ,day will return with a fresher boon2 ,god will remember the world6 ,night will come with a newer moon2 ,god will remember the world6 ,,first ,,movement4 ,,locality--,the square room of a ,new ,england farmhouse4 ,,present--,,israel1 head of the family2 ,,john1 ,,peter1 ,,david1 ,,patience1 ,,prudence1 ,,grace1 ,,mary1 ,,ruth1 and ,,children4 ,,the ,,question ,,stated ,,and ,,argued4 ,israel4 ,ruth1 touch the cradle4 ,boys1 you must be still6 ,the baby cannot sleep in such a noise4 ,nay1 ,grace1 stir not2 she'll soothe him soon enough1 ,and tell him more sweet stuff in half an hour ,than you can dream1 in dreaming half a year4 ,ruth4 ,kneeling and rocking the cradle4 ,what is the little one thinking about8 ,very wonderful things1 no doubt4 ,unwritten history6 ,unfathomed mystery6 ,yet he laughs and cries1 and eats and drinks1 ,and chuckles and crows1 and nods and winks1 ,as if his head were as full of kinks ,and curious riddles as any sphinx6 ,warped by colic1 and wet by tears1 ,punctured by pins1 and tortured by fears1 ,our little nephew will lose two years2 ,and he'll never know ,where the summers go2-- ,he need not laugh1 for he'll find it so6 ,who can tell what a baby thinks8 ,who can follow the gossamer links ,by which the manikin feels his way ,out from the shore of the great unknown1 ,blind1 and wailing1 and alone1 ,into the light of day8-- ,out from the shore of the unknown sea1 ,tossing in pitiful agony1-- ,of the unknown sea that reels and rolls1 ,specked with the barks of little souls-- ,barks that were launched on the other side1 ,and slipped from ,heaven on an ebbing tide6 ,what does he think of his mother's eyes8 ,what does he think of his mother's hair8 ,what of the cradle-roof that flies ,forward and backward through the air8 ,what does he thinks of his mother's breast-- ,bare and beautiful1 smooth and white1 ,seeking it ever with fresh delight-- ,cup of his life and couch of his rest8 ,what does he think when her quick embrace ,presses his hand and buries his face ,deep where the heart-throbs sink and swell ,with a tenderness she can never tell1 ,though she murmur the words ,of all the birds-- ,words she has learned to murmur well8 ,now he thinks he'll go to sleep6 ,i can see the shadow creep ,over his eyes1 in soft eclipse1 ,over his brow1 and over his lips1 ,out to his little finger-tips6 ,softly sinking1 down he goes6 ,down he goes6 ,down he goes6 ,rising and carefully retreating to her seat4 ,see6 ,he is hushed in sweet repose6 ,david4 ,yawning4 ,behold a miracle6 ,music transformed ,to morphine1 and the drowsy god invoked ,by the poor prattle of a maiden's tongue6 ,a moment more1 and we should all have gone ,down into dreamland with the babe6 ,ah1 well6 ,there is no end of wonders4 ,ruth4 ,none1 indeed6 ,when lazy poets who have gorged themselves1 ,and cannot keep awake1 make the attempt ,to shift the burden of their drowsiness1 ,and charge a girl with what they owe to greed4 ,david4 ,at your old tricks again6 ,no sleep induced ,by song of yours1 or any other bird's1 ,can linger long when you begin to talk4 ,grace1 box your sister's ears for me1 and save ,the trouble of my rising4 ,ruth4 ,advancing and kneeling by the side of ,grace4 ,sister mine4 ,now give the proof of your obedience ,to your imperious lord6 ,strike1 if you dare6 ,i'll wake your baby if you lift your hand4 ,ha6 king2 ha6 poet2 who is master now-- ,baby or husband8 ,pr'ythee1 tell me that4 ,were ,i a man1--thank ,heaven ,i am not6-- ,and had a wife who cared not for my will ,more than your wife for yours1 ,i'd hang myself1 ,or wear an 9999994 ,see6 she kisses me6 ,david4 ,and answers to my will1 though well she knows ,i'll spare to her so terrible a task1 ,and take the awful burden on myself2 ,which ,i will do1 in future1 if she please6 ,ruth4 ,now have you conquered6 ,look6 ,i am your slave4 ,denounce me1 scourge me1 anything but kiss2 ,for life is sweet1 and ,i alone am left ,to comfort an old man4 ,israel4 ,ruth1 that will do6 ,remember ,i'm a ,justice of the ,peace1 ,and bide no quarrels2 and if you and ,david ,persist in strife1 ,i'll place you under bonds ,for good behavior1 or condemn you both ,to solitary durance for the night4 ,ruth4 ,father1 you fail to understand the case1 ,and do me wrong4 ,david has threatened me ,with an assault that proves intent to kill2 ,and here's my sister ,grace1 his wedded wife1 ,who'll take her oath1 that just a year ago ,he entered into bonds to keep the peace ,toward me and womankind4 ,david4 ,i'm quite asleep4 ,israel4 ,we'll all agree1 then1 to pronounce it quits4 ,ruth4 ,till he awake again1 of course4 ,i trust ,i have sufficient gallantry to grant ,a nap between encounters1 to a foe ,with odds against him4 ,israel4 ,peace1 my daughter1 peace6 ,you've had your full revenge1 and we have had ,enough of laughter since the day began4 ,we must not squander all these precious hours ,in jest and merriment2 for when the sun ,shall rise to-morrow1 we shall separate1 ,not knowing we shall ever meet again4 ,meetings like this are rare this side of ,heaven1 ,and seem to me the best mementoes left ,of ,eden's hours4 ,grace4 ,most certainly the best1 ,and quite the rarest1 but1 unluckily1 ,the weakest1 as we know2 for sin and pain ,and evils multiform1 that swarm the earth1 ,and poison all our joys and all our hearts1 ,remind us most of ,eden's forfeit bliss4 ,david4 ,forfeit through woman4 ,grace4 ,forfeit through her power2-- ,a power not lost1 as most men know1 ,i think1 ,beyond the knowledge of their trustful wives4 ,mary4 ,rising1 and walking hurriedly to the window4 ',tis a wild night without4 ,ruth4 ,and getting wild ,within4 ,now1 ,grace1 ,i--all of us--protest ,against a scene to-night4 ,look6 ,you have driven ,one to the window blushing1 and your lord1 ,with lowering brow1 is making stern essay ,to stare the fire-dogs out of countenance4 ,these honest brothers1 with their honest wives1 ,grow glum and solemn1 too1 as if they feared ,at the next gust to see the windows burst1 ,or a riven poplar crashing through the roof4 ,and think of me6--a simple-hearted maid ,who learned from ,cowper only yesterday 7,or a schoolmaster1 with a handsome face1 ,and a strange passion for the text71 the fact1 ,that wedded bliss alone survives the fall4 ,i'm shocked2 ,i'm frightened2 and ,i'll never wed ,unless ,i--change my mind6 ,israel4 ,and ,i consent4 ,david4 ,and the schoolmaster with the handsome face ,propose4 ,ruth4 ,your pardon1 father1 for the jest6 ,but ,i have never patience with the ills ,that make intrusion on my happy hours4 ,i know the world is full of evil things1 ,and shudder with the consciousness4 ,i know ,that care has iron crowns for many brows2 ,that ,calvaries are everywhere1 whereon ,virtue is crucified1 and nails and spears ,draw guiltless blood2 that sorrow sits and drinks ,at sweetest hearts1 till all their life is dry2 ,that gentle spirits on the rack of pain ,grow faint or fierce1 and pray and curse by turns2 ,that ,hell's temptations1 clad in ,heavenly guise ,and armed with might1 lie evermore in wait ,along life's path1 giving assault to all-- ,fatal to most2 that ,death stalks through the earth1 ,choosing his victims1 sparing none at last2 ,that in each shadow of a pleasant tree ,a grief sits sadly sobbing to its leaves2 ,and that beside each fearful soul there walks ,the dim1 gaunt phantom of uncertainty1 ,bidding it look before1 where none may see1 ,and all must go2 but ,i forget it all-- ,i thrust it from me always when ,i may2 ,else ,i should faint with fear1 or drown myself ,in pity4 ,god forgive me6 but ,i've thought ,a thousand times that if ,i had ,his power4 ,or ,he my love1 we'd have a different world ,from this we live in4 ,israel4 ,those are sinful thoughts1 ,my daughter1 and too surely indicate ,a willful soul1 unreconciled to ,god4 ,ruth4 ,so you have told me often4 ,you have said ,that ,god is just1 and ,i have looked around ,to seek the proof in human lot1 in vain4 ,the rain falls kindly on the just man's fields1 ,but on the unjust man's more kindly still2 ,and ,i have never known the winter's blast1 ,or the quick lightning1 or the pestilence1 ,make nice discriminations when let slip ,from ,god's right hand4 ,israel4 ',tis a great mystery2 ,yet ,god is just1 and1--blessed be ,his name6-- ,is loving too4 ,i know that ,i am weak1 ,and that the pathway of ,his ,providence ,is on the hills where ,i may never climb4 ,therefore my reason yields her hand to ,faith1 ,and follows meekly where the angel leads4 ,i see the rich man have his portion here1 ,and ,lazarus1 in glorified repose1 ,sleep like a jewel on the breast of ,faith ,in ,heaven's broad light4 ,i see that whom ,god loves ,he chastens sorely1 but ,i ask not why4 ,i only know that ,god is just and good3 ,all else is mystery4 ,why evil lives ,within ,his universe1 ,i may not know4 ,i know it lives1 and taints the vital air2 ,and that in ways inscrutable to me-- ,yet compromising not ,his soundless love ,and boundless power--it lives against ,his will4 ,ruth4 ,i am not satisfied4 ,if evil live ,against ,god's will1 evil is king of all1 ,and they do well who worship ,lucifer4 ,i am not satisfied4 ,my reason spurns ,such prostitution to absurdities4 ,i know that you are happy2 but ,i shrink ,from your blind faith with loathing and with fear4 ,and feel that ,i must win it1 if ,i win1 ,with the surrender1 not of will alone1 ,but of the noblest faculty that ,god ,has crowned me with4 ,israel4 ,o blind and stubborn child6 ,my light1 my joy1 my burden and my grief6 ,how would ,i lead you to the wells of peace1 ,and see you dip your fevered palms and drink6 ,gladly to purchase this would ,i lay down ,the precious remnant of my life1 and sleep1 ,wrapped in the faith you spurn1 till the archangel ,sounds the last trump4 ,but ,god's good will be done6 ,i leave you with ,him4 ,ruth4 ,father1 talk not thus6 ,oh1 do not blame me6 ,i would do it all1 ,if but to bless you with a single joy2 ,but ,i am helpless4 ,israel4 ,god will help you1 ,ruth4 ,ruth4 ,to quench my reason8 ,can ,i ask the boon8 ,my lips would blister with the blasphemy4 ,i cannot take your faith2 and that is why ,i would forget that ,i am in a world ,where evil lives1 and why ,i guard my joys ,with such a jealous care4 ,david4 ,there1 ,ruth1 sit down6 ',tis the old question1 with the old reply4 ,you fly along the path1 with bleeding feet1 ,where many feet have flown and bled before2 ,and he who seeks to guide you to the goal ,has 7let me say it1 father7 stopped far short1 ,and taken refuge at a wayside inn1 ,whose haunted halls and mazy passages ,receive no light1 save through the riddled roof1 ,pierced thick by pilgrim staves1 that ,faith may lie ,upon its back1 and only gaze on ,heaven4 ,i would not banish evil if ,i could2 ,nor would ,i be so deep in love with joy ,as to seek for it in forgetfulness1 ,through faith or fear4 ,ruth4 ,teach me the better way1 ,and every expiration from my lips ,shall be a grateful blessing on your head2 ,and in the coming world ,i'll seek the side ,of no more gracious angel than the man ,who gives me brotherhood by leading me ,home with himself to heaven4 ,israel4 ,my son1 ,be careful of your words6 ',tis no light thing ,to take the guidance of a straying soul4 ,david4 ,i mark the burden well1 and love it1 too1 ,because ,i love the girl and love her ,lord1 ,and seek to vindicate ,his love to her ,and waken hers for ,him4 ,be this my plea3 ,god is almighty--all-benevolent2 ,and naught exists save by ,his loving will4 ,evil1 or what we reckon such1 exists1 ,and not against ,his will2 else the ,supreme ,is subject1 and we have in place of ,god ,a phantom nothing1 with a phantom name4 ,therefore ,i care not whether ,he ordain ,that evil live1 or whether ,he permit2 ,therefore ,i ask not why1 in either case1 ,as if ,he meant to curse me1 but ,i ask ,what ,he would have this evil do for me8 ,what is its mission8 what its ministry8 ,what golden fruit lies hidden in its husk8 ,how shall it nurse my virtue1 nerve my will1 ,chasten my passions1 purify my love1 ,and make me in some goodly sense like ,him ,who bore the cross of evil while ,he lived1 ,who hung and bled upon it when ,he died1 ,and now1 in glory1 wears the victor's crown8 ,israel4 ,if evil1 then1 have privilege and part ,in the economy of holiness1 ,why came the ,christ to save us from its power1 ,and bring us restoration of the bliss ,lost in the lapse of ,eden8 ,david4 ,and would you ,or ,ruth 'have restoration of that bliss1 ,and welcome transplantation to the state ,associate with it8 ,ruth4 ,would ,i8 ,would ,i not6 ,oh1 ,i have dreamed of it a thousand times1 ,sleeping and waking1 since the torch of thought ,flashed into flame at ,revelation's touch1 ,and filled my spirit with its quenchless fire4 ,most envious dreams of innocence and joy ,have haunted me1--dreams that were born in sin1 ,yet swathed in stainless snow4 ,i've dreamed1 and dreamed1 ,of wondrous trees1 crowned with perennial green1 ,whose soft still shadows gleamed with golden lamps ,of pensile fruitage1 or were flushed with life ,radiant and tuneful when broad flocks of birds ,swept in and out like sheets of living flame4 ,i've dreamed of aisles tufted with velvet grass1 ,and bordered with the strange intelligence ,of myriad loving eyes among the flowers1 ,that watched me with a curious1 calm delight1 ,as rows of wayside cherubim may watch ,a new soul1 walking into ,paradise4 ,i've dreamed of sunsets when the sun supine ,lay rocking on the ocean like a god1 ,and threw his weary arms far up the sky1 ,and with vermilion-tinted fingers toyed ,with the long tresses of the evening star4 ,i've dreamed of dreams more beautiful than all-- ,dreams that were music1 perfume1 vision1 bliss1-- ,blent and sublimed1 till ,i have stood inwrapped ,in the thick essence of an atmosphere ,that made me tremble to unclose my eyes ,lest ,i should look on ,god4 ,and ,i have dreamed ,of sinless men and maids1 mated in heaven1 ,ere yet their souls had sought for beauteous forms ,to give them human sense and residence1 ,moving through all this realm of choice delights ,for ever and for aye2 with hands and hearts ,immaculate as light2 without a thought ,of evil1 and without a name for fear4 ,oh1 when ,i wake from happy dreams like these1 ,to the old consciousness that ,i must die1 ,to the old presence of a guilty heart1 ,to the old fear that haunts me night and day1 ,why should ,i not deplore the graceless fall ,that makes me what ,i am1 and shuts me out ,from a condition and society ,as much above a sinful maiden's dreams ,as ,eden blest surpasses ,eden curst8 ,david4 ,so you would be another ,eve1 and so-- ,fall with the first temptation1 like herself6 ,god seeks for virtue2 you for innocence4 ,you'll find it in the cradle--nowhere else-- ,save in your dreams1 among the grown-up babes ,that dwelt in ,eden--powerless1 pulpy souls ,that showed a dimple for each touch of sin4 ,god seeks for virtue1 and1 that it may live1 ,it must resist1 and that which it resists ,must live4 ,believe me1 ,god has other thought ,than restoration of our fallen race ,to its primeval innocence and bliss4 ,if ,jesus ,christ--as we are taught--was slain ,from the foundation of the world1 it was ,because our evil lived in essence then-- ,coeval with the great1 mysterious fact4 ,and ,he was slain that we might be transformed1-- ,not into ,adam's sweet similitude-- ,but the more glorious image of ,himself1 ,a resolution of our destiny ,as high transcending ,eden's life and lot ,as ,he surpasses ,eden's fallen lord4 ,ruth4 ,you're very bold1 my brother1 very bold4 ,did ,i not know you for an earnest man1 ,when sacred themes move you to utterance1 ,i'd chide you for those most irreverent words ,which make essential to the ,christian scheme ,that which the scheme was made to kill1 or cure4 ,david4 ,yet they do save some very awkward words1 ,that limp to make apology for ,god1 ,and1 while they justify ,him1 half confess ,the adverse verdict of appearances4 ,i am ashamed that in this ,christian age ,the pious throng still hug the fallacy ,that this dear world of ours was not ordained ,the theater of evil2 for no law ,declared of ,god from all eternity ,can live a moment save by lease of pain4 ,law cannot live1 e'en in ,god's inmost thought1 ,save by the side of evil4 ,what were law ,but a weak jest without its penalty8 ,never a law was born that did not fly ,forth from the bosom of ,omnipotence ,matched1 wing-and-wing1 with evil and with good1 ,avenger and rewarder--both of ,god4 ,ruth4 ,i face your thought and give it audience2 ,but ,i cannot embrace it till it come ,with some of truth's credentials in its hands-- ,the fruits of gracious ministries4 ,david4 ,does he ,who1 driven to labor by the threatening weeds1 ,and forced to give his acres light and air ,and traps for dew and reservoirs for rain1 ,till1 in the smoky light of harvest time1 ,the ragged husks reveal the golden corn1 ,ask truth's credentials of the weeds8 ,does he ,who prunes the orchard boughs1 or tills the field1 ,or fells the forests1 or pursues their prey1 ,until the gnarly muscles of his limbs ,and the free blood that thrills in all his veins ,betray the health that toil alone secures1 ,ask truth's credentials at the hand of toil8 ,do you ask truth's credentials of the storm ,which1 while we entertain communion here1 ,makes better music for our huddling hearts ,than choirs of stars can sing in fairest nights8 ,yet weeds are evils--evils toil and storm4 ,we may suspect the fair1 smooth face of good2 ,but evil1 that assails us undisguised1 ,bears evermore ,god's warrant in its hands4 ,israel4 ,i fear these silver sophistries of yours4 ,if my poor judgment gives them honest weight1 ,far less than thirty will betray your ,lord4 ,you call that evil which is good1 and good ,that which is evil4 ,you apologize ,for that which ,god must hate1 and justify ,the life and perpetuity of that ,which sets itself against ,his holiness1 ,and sends its discords through the universe4 ,david4 ,i sorrow if ,i shock you1 for ,i seek ,to comfort and inspire4 ,i see around ,a silent company of doubtful souls2 ,but ,i may challenge any one of them ,to quote the meanest blessing of its life1 ,and prove that evil did not make the gift1 ,or bear it from the giver to its hands4 ,the great salvation wrought by ,jesus ,christ-- ,that sank an ,adam to reveal a ,god-- ,had never come1 but at the call of sin4 ,no risen ,lord could eat the feast of love ,here on the earth1 or yonder in the sky1 ,had ,he not lain within the sepulcher4 ',tis not the lightly laden heart of man ,that loves the best the hand that blesses all2 ,but that which1 groaning with its weight of sin1 ,meets with the mercy that forgiveth much4 ,god never fails in an experiment1 ,nor tries experiment upon a race ,but to educe its highest style of life1 ,and sublimate its issues4 ,thus to me ,evil is not a mystery1 but a means ,selected from the infinite resource ,to make the most of me4 ,ruth4 ,thank ,god for light6 ,these truths are slowly dawning on my soul1 ,and take position in the firmament ,that spans my thought1 like stars that know their place4 ,dear ,lord6 what visions crowd before my eyes-- ,visions drawn forth from memory's mysteries ,by the sweet shining of these holy lights6 ,i see a girl1 once lightest in the dance1 ,and maddest with the gayety of life1 ,grow pale and pulseless1 wasting day by day1 ,while death lies idly dreaming in her breast1 ,blighting her breath1 and poisoning her blood4 ,i see her frantic with a fearful thought ,that haunts and horrifies her shrinking soul1 ,and bursts in sighs and sobs and feverish prayers2 ,and now1 at last1 the awful struggle ends1 ,a sweet smile sits upon her angel face1 ,and peace1 with downy bosom1 nestles close ,where her worn heart throbs faintly2 closer still ,as the death shadows gather2 closer still1 ,as1 on white wings1 the outward-going soul ,flies to a home it never would have sought1 ,had a great evil failed to point the way4 ,i see a youth whom ,god has crowned with power1 ,and cursed with poverty4 ,with bravest heart ,he struggles with his lot1 through toilsome years1-- ,kept to his task by daily want of bread1 ,and kept to virtue by his daily task1-- ,till1 gaining manhood in the manly strife1-- ,the fire that fills him smitten from a flint-- ,the strength that arms him wrested from a fiend-- ,he stands1 at last1 a master of himself1 ,and1 in that grace1 a master of his kind4 ,david4 ,familiar visions these1 but ever full ,of inspiration and significance4 ,now that your eyes are opened and you see1 ,your heart should take swift cognizance1 and feel4 ,how do these visions move you8 ,ruth4 ,like the hand ,of a strong angel on my shoulder laid1 ,touching the secret of the spirit's wings4 ,my heart grows brave4 ,i'm ready now to work-- ,to work with ,god1 and suffer with ,his ,christ2 ,adopt ,his measures1 and abide ,his means4 ,if1 in the law that spans the universe 7,the law its maker may not disobey71 ,virtue may only grow from innocence ,through a great struggle with opposing ill2 ,if ,i must win my way to perfectness ,in the sad path of suffering1 like ,him ,the over-flowing river of whose life ,touches the flood-mark of humanity ,on the white pillars of the heavenly throne1 ,then welcome evil6 ,welcome sickness1 toil1 ,sorrow and pain1 the fear and fact of death4 ,israel ,and welcome sin8 ,ruth4 ,ah1 ,david6 welcome sin8 ,david4 ,the fact of sin--so much2--it must needs be ,offenses come2 if woe to him by whom1 ,then with good reason2 but the fact of sin ,unlocked the door to highest destiny1 ,that ,christ might enter in and lead the way4 ,god loves not sin1 nor ,i2 but in the throng ,of evils that assail us1 there are none ,that yield their strength to ,virtue's struggling arm ,with such munificent reward of power ,as great temptations4 ,we may win by toil ,endurance2 saintly fortitude by pain2 ,by sickness1 patience2 faith and trust by fear2 ,but the great stimulus that spurs to life1 ,and crowds to generous development ,each chastened power and passion of the soul1 ,is the temptation of the soul to sin1 ,resisted1 and re-conquered1 evermore4 ,ruth4 ,i am content2 and now that ,i have caught ,bright glimpses of the outlines of your scheme1 ,as of a landscape1 graded to the sky1 ,and seen through trees while passing1 ,i desire ,no vision further till ,i make survey ,in some good time when ,i may come alone1 ,and drink its beauty and its blessedness4 ,i've been forgetful in my earnestness1 ,and wearied everyone with talk4 ,these boys ,are restive grown1 or nodding in their chairs1 ,and older heads are set1 as if for sleep4 ,i beg their pardon for my theft of time1 ,and will offend no more4 ,david4 ,ruth1 is it right ,to leave a brother in such a plight as this-- ,either to imitate your courtesy1 ,or by your act to be adjudged a boor8 ,ruth4 ,heaven grant you never note a sin of mine ,save of your own construction6 ,israel4 ,let it pass6 ,i see the spell of thoughtfulness is gone1 ,or going swiftly4 ,i will not complain2 ,but ere these lads are fastened to their games1 ,and thoughts arise discordant with our theme1 ,let us with gratitude approach the throne ,and worship ,god4 ,i wish once more to lead ,your hearts in prayer1 and follow with my own ,the leading of your song of thankfulness4 ,then will ,i lease and leave you for the night ,to such divertisement as suits the time1 ,and meets your humor4 ,they all arise and the old man prays4 ,ruth4 ,after a pause4 ,david1 let us see ,whether your memory prove as true as mine4 ,do you recall the promise made by you ,this night one year ago1--to write a hymn ,for this occasion8 ,david4 ,i recall1 and keep4 ,here are the copies1 written fairly out4 ,here1--father1 ,mary1 ,ruth1 and all the rest2 ,there's one for each4 ,now what shall be the tune8 ,israel4 ,the old ,one ,hundredth--noblest tune of tunes6 ,old tunes are precious to me as old paths ,in which ,i wandered when a happy boy4 ,in truth1 they are the old paths of my soul1 ,oft trod1 well worn1 familiar1 up to ,god4 ,,the ,,hymn4 ,in which all unite to sing4 ,for ,summer's bloom and ,autumn's blight1 ,for bending wheat and blasted maize1 ,for health and sickness1 ,lord of light1 ,and ,lord of darkness1 hear our praise6 ,we trace to ,thee our joys and woes-- ,to ,thee of causes still the cause1-- ,we thank ,thee that ,thy hand bestows2 ,we bless ,thee that ,thy love withdraws4 ,we bring no sorrows to ,thy throne2 ,we come to ,thee with no complaint2 ,in ,providence ,thy will is done1 ,and that is sacred to the saint ,here on this blest ,thanksgiving ,night2 ,we raise to ,thee our grateful voice2 ,for what ,thou doest1 ,lord1 is right2 ,and thus believing1 we rejoice4 ,grace4 ,a good old tune1 indeed1 and strongly sung2 ,but1 in my mind1 the man who wrote the hymn ,had seemed more modest1 had he paused a while4 ,ere by a trick he furnished other tongues ,with words he only has the heart to sing4 ,david4 ,oh1 ,grace6 ,dear ,grace6 ,ruth4 ,you may well cry for grace1 ,if that's the company you have to keep4 ,grace4 ,i thought you convert to his sophistry4 ,it makes no difference to him1 you know1 ,whether ,i plague or please4 ,ruth4 ,it does to you4 ,israel4 ,there1 children6 ,no more bitter words like those6 ,i do not understand them2 they awake ,a sad uneasiness within my heart4 ,i found but ,christian meaning in the hymn2 ,aye1 ,i could say amen to every line1 ,as to the breathings of my own poor prayer4 ,but let us talk no more4 ,i'll to my bed4 ,good-night1 my children6 ,happy thoughts be yours ,till sleep arrive--then happy dreams till dawn6 ,all4 ,father1 good-night6 ,,israel retires4 ,ruth4 ,there1 little boys and girls-- ,off to the kitchen6 ,now there's fun for you4 ,play blind-man's-buff until you break your heads2 ,and then sit down beside the roaring fire1 ,and with wild stories scare yourselves to death4 ,we'll all be out there1 by and by4 ,meanwhile1 ,i'll try the cellar2 and if ,david1 here1 ,will promise good behavior1 he shall be ,my candle-bearer1 basket-bearer1 and-- ,but no6 ,the pitcher ,i will bear myself4 ,i'll never trust a pitcher to a man ,under this house1 and--seventy years of age4 ,the children rush out of the room with a shout1 which wakes the baby4 ,that noisy little youngster on the floor ,slept through theology but wakes with mirth-- ,precocious little creature6 ,he must go ,up to his chamber4 ,come1 ,grace1 take him off-- ,basket and all4 ,mary will lend a hand1 ,and keep you company until he sleeps4 ,,grace and ,,mary remove the cradle to the chamber1 and ,,david and ,,ruth retire to the cellar4 ,john4 ,rising and yawning ,isn't she the strangest girl you ever saw8 ,prudence4 ,queer1 rather1 ,i should say4 ,grace1 now1 is strange4 ,i think she treats her husband shamefully4 ,i can't imagine what possesses her1 ,thus to toss taunts at him with every word4 ,if in his doctrines there be truth enough1 ,he'll be a saint4 ,patience4 ,if he live long enough4 ,john4 ,well1 now ,i tell you1 such wild men as he1-- ,men who have crazy crotchets in their heads1-- ,can't make a woman happy4 ,don't you see8 ,he isn't settled4 ,he has wandered off ,from the old landmarks1 and has lost himself ,i may judge wrongly2 but if truth were told ,there'd be excuse for ,grace1 ,i warrant ye4 ,grace is a right good girl1 or was1 before ,she married ,david4 ,patience4 ,everybody says ,he makes provision for his family1 ,like a good husband4 ,peter4 ,we can hardly tell4 ,when men get loose in their theology ,the screws are started up in everything4 ,of course1 ,i don't apologize for ,grace4 ,i think she might have done more prudently ,than introduce her troubles here to-night1 ,but1 after all1 we do not know the cause ,that stirs her fretfulness4 ,well1 let it go6 ,what does the evening's talk amount to8 ,who ,is wiser for the wisdom of the hour8 ,the good old paths are good enough for me4 ,the fathers walked to heaven in them1 and we1 ,by following mekly where they trod1 may reach ,the home they found4 ,there will be mysteries2 ,let those who like1 bother their heads with them4 ,if ,ruth and ,david seek to fathom all1 ,i wish them patience in their bootless quest4 ,for one1 ,i'm glad the misty talk is done1 ,and we1 alone4 ,patience4 ,and ,i4 ,john4 ,i1 too4 ,prudence4 ,and ,i4 ,,first ,,episode4 ,,locality--,the cellar stair and the cellar4 ,,present--,,david and ,,ruth4 ,,the ,,question ,,illustrated ,,by ,,nature4 ,ruth4 ,look where you step1 or you'll stumble6 ,care for your coat1 or you'll crock it6 ,down with your crown1 man6 ,be humble6 ,put your head into your pocket1 ,else something or other will knock it4 ,don't hit that jar of cucumbers ,standing an the broad-stair6 ,they have not waked from their slumbers ,since they stood there4 ,david4 ,yet they have lived in a constant jar6 ,what remarkable sleepers they are6 ,ruth4 ,turn to the left--shun the wall-- ,one step more--that is all6 ,now we are safe on the ground1 ,i will show you around4 ,sixteen barrels of cider ,ripening all in a row6 ,open the vent-channels wider6 ,see the froth1 drifted like snow4 ,blown by the tempest below6 ,those delectable juices ,flowed through the sinuous sluices ,of sweet springs under the orchard2 ,climbed into fountains that chained them2 ,dripped into cups that retained them1 ,and swelled till they dropped1 and we gained them4 ,then they were gathered and tortured ,by passage from hopper to vat1 ,and fell-every apple crushed flat4 ,ah6 how the bees gathered round them1 ,and how delicious they found them6 ,oat-straw1 as fragrant as clover1 ,was platted1 and smoothly turned over1 ,weaving a neatly ribbed basket2 ,and1 as they built up the casket1 ,in went the pulp by the scoop-full1 ,till the juice flowed by the stoup-full1-- ,filling the half of a puncheon ,while the men swallowed their luncheon4 ,pure grew the stream with the stress ,of the lever and screw1 ,till the last drops from the press ,were as bright as the dew4 ,there were these juices spilled2 ,there were these barrels filled2 ,sixteen barrels of cider-- ,ripening all in a row6 ,open the vent-channels wider6 ,see the froth1 drifted like snow1 ,blown by the tempest below6 ,david4 ,hearts1 like apples1 are hard and sour1 ,till crushed by ,pain's resistless power2 ,and yield their juices rich and bland ,to none but ,sorrow's heavy hand4 ,the purest streams of human love ,flow naturally never1 ,but gush by pressure from above ,with ,god's hand on the lever4 ,the first are turbidest and meanest2 ,the last are sweetest and serenest4 ,ruth4 ,sermon quite short for the text6 ,what shall we hit upon next8 ,lift up the lid of that cask2 ,see if the brine be abundant2 ,easy for me were the task ,to make it redundant ,with tears for my beautiful ,zephyr-- ,pet of the pasture and stall-- ,whitest and comeliest heifer1 ,gentlest of all6 ,oh1 it seemed cruel to slay her6 ,but they insulted my prayer ,for her careless and innocent life1 ,and the creature was brought to the knife ,with gratitude in her eye2 ,for they patted her back1 and chafed her head1 ,and coaxed her with softest words1 as they led ,her up to the ring to die4 ,do you blame me for crying ,when my ,zephyr was dying8 ,i shut my room and my ears1 ,and opened my heart and my tears1 ,and wept for the half of a day2 ,and ,i could not go ,to the rooms below ,till the butcher went away4 ,david4 ,life evermore is fed by death1 ,in earth and sea and sky2 ,and1 that a rose may breathe its breath1 ,something must die4 ,earth is a sepulcher of flowers1 ,whose vitalizing mold ,through boundless transmutation towers1 ,in green and gold4 ,the oak tree1 struggling with the blast1 ,devours its father tree1 ,and sheds its leaves and drops its mast1 ,that more may be4 ,the falcon preys upon the finch1 ,the finch upon the fly1 ,and nought will loose the hunger-pinch ,but death's wild cry4 ,the milk-haired heifer's life must pass ,that it may fill your own1 ,as passed the sweet life of the grass ,she fed upon4 ,the power enslaved by yonder cask ,shall many burdens bear2 ,shall nerve the toiler at his task1 ,the soul at prayer4 ,from lowly woe springs lordly joy2 ,from humbler good diviner2 ,the greater life must aye destroy ,and drink the minor4 ,from hand to hand life's cup is passed ,up ,being's piled gradation1 ,till men to angels yield at last ,the rich collation4 ,ruth4 ,well1 we are done with the brute2 ,now let us look at the fruit1-- ,every barrel1 ,i'm told1 ,from grafts half a dozen years old4 ,that is a barrel of russets2 ,but we can hardly discuss its ,spheres of frost and flint1 ,till1 smitten by thoughts of ,spring1 ,and the old tree blossoming1 ,their bronze takes a yellower tint1 ,and the pulp grows mellower in't4 ,but oh6 when they're sick with the savors ,of sweets that they dream of1 ,sure1 all the toothsomest flavors ,they hold the cream of6 ,you will be begging in ,may1 ,in your irresistible way1 ,for a peck of the apples in gray4 ,those are the pearmains1 ,i think1-- ,bland and insipid as eggs2 ,they were too lazy to drink ,the light to its dregs1 ,and left them upon the rind-- ,a delicate film of blue-- ,leave them alone2--,i can find ,better apples for you4 ,those are the ,rhode ,island greenings2 ,excellent apples for pies2 ,there are no mystical meanings ,in fruit of that color and size4 ,they are too coarse and too juiceful2 ,they are too large and too useful4 ,there are the ,baldwins and ,flyers1 ,wrapped in their beautiful fires6 ,color forks up from their stems ,as if painted by ,flora1 ,or as out from the pole stream the flames ,of the ,northern ,aurora4 ,here shall our quest have a close2 ,fill up your basket with those2 ,bite through their vesture of flame1 ,and then you will gather ,all that is meant by the name1 ,seek-no-farther6 ,david4 ,the native orchard's fairest trees1 ,wild springing on the hill1 ,bear no such precious fruits as these1 ,and never will2 ,till ax and saw and pruning knife ,cut from them every bough1 ,and they receive a gentler life ,than crowns them now4 ,and ,nature's children1 evermore1 ,though grown to stately stature1 ,must bear the fruit their fathers bore-- ,the fruit of nature2 ,till every thrifty vice is made ,the shoulder for a scion1 ,cut from the bending trees that shade ,the hills of ,zion4 ,sorrow must crop each passion-shoot1 ,and pain each lust infernal1 ,or human life can bear no fruit ,to life eternal4 ,for angels wait on ,providence2 ,and mark the sundered places1 ,to graft with gentlest instruments ,the heavenly graces4 ,ruth4 ,well1 you're a curious creature6 ,you should have been a preacher4 ,but look at that bin of potatoes-- ,grown in all singular shapes-- ,red and in clusters1 like grapes1 ,or more like tomatoes4 ,those are ,merinoes1 ,i guess2 ,very prolific and cheap2 ,they make an excellent mess ,for a cow1 or a sheep1 ,and are good for the table1 they say1 ,when the winter has passed away4 ,those are my beautiful ,carters2 ,every one doomed to be martyrs ,to the eccentric desire ,of ,christian people to skin them1-- ,brought to the trial of fire ,for the good that is in them6 ,ivory tubers--divide one6 ,ivory all the way through6 ,never a hollow inside one2 ,never a core1 black or blue6 ,ah1 you should taste them when roasted6 7,chestnuts are not half so good27 ,and you would find that ,i've boasted ,less than ,i should4 ,they make the meal for ,sunday noon2 ,and1 if ever you eat one1 let me beg ,you to manage it just as you do an egg4 ,take a pat of butter1 a silver spoon1 ,and wrap your napkin round the shell3 ,have you seen a humming-bird probe the bell ,of a white-lipped morning-glory8 ,well1 that's the rest of the story6 ,but it's very singular1 surely1 ,they should produce so poorly4 ,father knows that ,i want them1 ,so he continues to plant them2 ,but1 if ,i try to argue the question1 ,he scoffs1 as a thrifty farmer will2 ,and puts me down with the stale suggestion-- ,small potatoes1 and few in a hill4 ,david4 ,thus is it over all the earth6 ,that which we call the fairest1 ,and prize for its surpassing worth1 ,is always rarest4 ,iron is heaped in mountain piles1 ,and gluts the laggard forges2 ,but gold-flakes gleam in dim defiles ,and lonely gorges4 ,the snowy marble flecks the land ,with heaped and rounded ledges1 ,but diamonds hide within the sand ,their starry edges4 ,the finny armies clog the twine ,that sweeps the lazy river1 ,but pearls come singly from the brine1 ,with the pale diver4 ,god gives no value unto men ,unmatched by meed of labor2 ,and ,cost of ,worth has ever been ,the closest neighbor4 ,wide is the gate and broad the way ,that opens to perdition1 ,and countless multitudes are they ,who seek admission4 ,but strait the gate1 the path unkind1 ,that lead to life immortal1 ,and few the careful feet that find ,the hidden portal4 ,all common good has common price2 ,exceeding good1 exceeding2 ,christ bought the keys of ,paradise ,by cruel bleeding2 ,and every soul that wins a place ,upon its hills of pleasure1 ,must give its all1 and beg for grace ,to fill the measure4 ,were every hill a precious mine1 ,and golden all the mountains2 ,were all the rivers fed with wine ,by tireless fountains2 ,life would be ravished of its zest1 ,and shorn of its ambition1 ,and sinks into the dreamless rest ,of inanition4 ,up the broad stairs that ,value rears ,stand motives beckoning earthward1 ,to summon men to nobler spheres1 ,and lead them worthward4 ,ruth4 ,i'm afraid to show you anything more2 ,for parsnips and art are so very long1 ,that the passage back to the cellar-door ,would be through a mile of song4 ,but ,truth owns me for an honest teller2 ,and1 if the honest truth be told1 ,i am indebted to you and the cellar ,for a lesson and a cold4 ,and one or the other cheats my sight2 7,o silly girl6 for shame67 ,barrels are hooped with rings of light1 ,and stopped with tongues of flame4 ,apples have conquered original sin1 ,manna is pickled in brine1 ,philosophy fills the potato bin1 ,and cider will soon be wine4 ,so crown the basket with mellow fruit1 ,and brim the pitcher with pearls2 ,and we'll see how the old-time dainties suit ,the old-time boys and girls4 ,they ascend the stairs4 ,,second ,,movement4 ,,locality--,a chamber4 ,,present--,,grace1 ,,mary1 and the ,,baby4 99 99 99 99 99 ,,the ,,question ,,illustrated ,,by ,,experience4 ,grace4 ,sings4 ,hither1 ,sleep6 ,a mother wants thee6 ,come with velvet arms6 ,fold the baby that she grants thee ,to thy own soft charms6 ,bear him into ,dreamland lightly6 ,give him sight of flowers6 ,do not bring him back till brightly ,break the morning hours6 ,close his eyes with gentle fingers6 ,cross his hands of snow6 ,tell the angels where he lingers ,they must whisper low6 ,i will guard thy spell unbroken ,if thou hear my call2 ,come then1 ,sleep6 ,i wait the token ,of thy downy thrall4 ,now ,i see his sweet lips moving2 ,he is in thy keep2 ,other milk the babe is proving ,at the breast of sleep6 ,mary4 ,sleep1 babe1 the honeyed sleep of innocence6 ,sleep like a bud2 for soon the sun of life ,with ardors quick and passionate shall rise1 ,and1 with hot kisses part the fragrant lips-- ,the folded petals of thy soul6 ,alas6 ,what feverish winds shall tease and toss thee1 then6 ,what pride and pain1 ambition and despair1 ,desire1 satiety1 and all that fill ,with misery life's fretful enterprise1 ,shall wrench and blanch thee1 till thou fall at last1 ,joy after joy down fluttering to the earth1 ,to be apportioned to the elements6 ,i marvel1 baby1 whether it were ill ,that ,he who planted thee should pluck thee now1 ,and save thee from the blight that comes on all4 ,i marvel whether it would not be well ,that the frail bud should burst in ,paradise1 ,on the full throbbing of an angel's heart6 ,grace4 ,oh1 speak not thus6 ,the thought is terrible4 ,he is my all2 and yet1 it sickens me ,to think that he will grow to be a man4 ,if he were not a boy6 ,mary4 ,were not a boy8 ,that wakens other thoughts4 ,thank ,god for that6 ,to be a man1 if aught1 is privilege ,precious and peerless4 ,while ,i bide content ,the modest lot of woman1 all my soul ,gives truest manhood humblest reverence4 ,it is a great and god-like thing to do6 ',tis a great thing1 ,i think1 to be a man4 ,man fells the forests1 plows and tills the fields1 ,and heaps the granaries that feed the world4 ,at his behest swift ,commerce spreads her wings1 ,and tires the sinewy sea-birds as she flies1 ,fanning the solitudes from clime to clime4 ,smoke-crested cities rise beneath his hand1 ,and roar through ages with the din of trade4 ,steam is the fleet-winged herald of his will1 ,joining the angel of the ,apocalypse ',mid sound and smoke and wond'rous circumstance1 ,and with one foot upon the conquered sea ,and one upon the subject land1 proclaims ,that space shall be no more4 ,the lightnings veil ,their fiery forms to wait upon his thought1 ,and give it wing1 as unseen spirits pause ,to bear to ,god the burden of his prayer4 ,god crowns him with the gift of eloquence1 ,and puts a harp into his tuneful hands1 ,and makes him both his prophet and his priest4 ',twas in his form the great ,immanuel ,revealed himself2 the ,apostolic ,twelve1 ,like those who since have ministered the ,word1 ,were men4 ',tis a great thing to be a man4 ,grace4 ,and fortunate to have an advocate ,across whose memory convenient clouds ,come floating at convenient intervals4 ,the harvest fields that man has honored most ,are those where human life is reaped like grain4 ,there never rose a mart1 nor shone a sail1 ,nor sprang a great invention into birth1 ,by other motive than man's love of gold4 ,it is for wrong that he is eloquent2 ,for lust that he indites his sweetest songs4 ,christ was betrayed by treason of a man1 ,and scourged and hung upon a tree by men2 ,and the sad women who were at his cross1 ,and sought him early at the sepulcher1 ,and since that day1 in gentle multitudes ,have loved and followed him1 have been man's slaves1-- ,the victims of his power and his desire4 ,mary4 ,and you1 a wedded wife-well wedded1 too1 ,can say all this1 and say it bitterly6 ,grace4 ,perhaps because a wife2 perhaps because-- ,mary4 ,hush1 ,grace6 ,no more6 ,i beg you1 say no more4 ,nay6 ,i will leave you at another word2 ,for ,i could listen to a blasphemy1 ,falling from bestial lips1 with lighter chill ,than to the mad complainings of a soul ,which ,god has favored as he favors few4 ,i dare not listen when a woman's voice1 ,which blessings strive to smother1 flings them off ,in mad contempt4 ,i dare not hear the words ,whose utterance all the gentle loves dissuade ,by kisses which are reasons1 while a throng ,of friendships1 comforts1 and sweet charities-- ,the almoners of the ,all-,bountiful-- ,with folded wings stand sadly looking on4 ,believe me1 ,grace1 the pioneer of judgment-- ,ordained1 commissioned--is ,ingratitude2 ,for where it moves1 good withers2 blessings die2 ,till a clean path is left for ,providence1 ,who never sows a good the second time ,till the torn bosom of the graceless soil ,is ready for the seed4 ,grace4 ,oh1 could you know ,the anguish of my heart1 you would not chide6 ,if ,i repine1 it is because my lot ,is not the blessed thing it seems to you4 ,o ,mary6 ,could you know6 ,could you but know6 ,mary4 ,then why not tell me all8 ,you know me1 love4 ,and know that secrets make their graves with me4 ,so1 tell me all2 for ,i do promise you ,such sympathy as ,god through suffering ,has given me power to grant to such as you4 ,i bought it dearly1 and its largess waits ,the opening of your heart4 ,grace4 ,i am ashamed1-- ,in truth ,i am ashamed--to tell you all4 ,you will not laugh at me8 ,mary4 ,i laugh at you8 ,grace4 ,forgive me1 ,mary1 for my heart is weak2 ,distrustful of itself and all the world4 ,ah1 well6 ,to what strange issues leads our life6 ,it seems but yesterday that you were brought ,to this old house1 an orphaned little girl1 ,whose large shy eyes1 pale cheeks1 and shrinking ways ,filled all our hearts with wonder1 as we stood ,and stared at you1 until your heart o'erfilled ,with the oppressive strangeness1 and you wept4 ,yes1 ,i remember how ,i pitied you-- ,i who had never wept1 nor even sighed1 ,save on the bosom of my gentle mother2 ,for my quick heart caught all your history ,when with a hurried step you sought the sun1 ,and pressed your eyes against the windowpane ,that ,god's sweet light might dry them4 ,well ,i knew ,though all untaught1 that you were motherless4 ,and ,i remember how ,i followed you1-- ,embraced and kissed you--kissed your tears away-- ,tears that came faster1 till they bathed the lips ,that would have sealed their flooded fountain-heads2 ,and then we wound our arms around each other1 ,and passed out-out under the pleasant sky1 ,and stood among the lilies at the door4 ,i gave no formal comfort2 you1 no thanks2 ,for tears had been your language1 kisses mine1 ,and we were friends4 ,we talked about our dolls1 ,and all the pretty playthings we possessed4 ,then we revealed1 with childish vanity1 ,our little stores of knowledge4 ,i was full ,of a sweet marvel when you pointed out ,the yellow thighs of bees that1 half asleep1 ,plundered the secrets of the lily-bells1 ,and called the golden pigment honeycomb4 ,and your black eyes were opened very wide ,when ,i related how1 one sunny day1 ,i found a well1 half covered1 down the lane1 ,that was so deep and clear that ,i could see ,straight through the world1 into another sky6 ,mary4 ,do you remember how the ,guinea hens ,set up a scream upon the garden wall1 ,that frightened me to running1 when you screamed ,with laughter quite as loud8 ,grace4 ,aye1 very well2 ,but better still the scene that followed all4 ,oh1 that has lingered in my memory ,like that divinest dream of ,raphael-- ,the ,dresden virgin prisoned in a print-- ,that watched with me in sickness through long weeks1 ,and from its frame upon the chamber-wall ,breathed constant benedictions1 till ,i learned ,to love the presence like a ,roman saint4 ,my mother called us in2 and at her knee1 ,embracing still1 we stood1 and felt her smile ,shine on our upturned faces like the light ,of the soft summer moon4 ,and then she stooped2 ,and when she kissed us1 ,i could see the tears ,brimming her eyes4 ,o sweet experiment6 ,to try if love of ,jesus and of me ,could make our kisses equal to her lips6 ,then straight my prescient heart set up a song1 ,and fluttered in my bosom like a bird4 ,i knew a blessing was about to fall1 ,as robins know the coming of the rain1 ,and bruit the joyous secret1 ere its steps ,are heard upon the mountain tops4 ,i knew ,you were to be my sister2 and my heart ,was almost bursting with its love and pride4 ,i could not wait to hear the kindly words ,our mother spoke--her counsels and commands-- ,for you were mine--my sister6 ,so ,i tore ,your clinging hand from hers with rude constraint1 ,and took you to my chamber1 where ,i played ,with you1 in selfish sense of property1 ,the whole bright afternoon4 ,and here again1 ,within this same old chamber we are met4 ,we told our secrets to each other then2 ,thus let us tell them now2 and you shall be ,to my grief-burdened soul what you have said1 ,so many times that ,i have been to yours4 ,mary4 ,alas6 ,i never meant to tell my tale ,to other ear than ,god's2 but you have claims ,upon my confidence1--claims just rehearsed1 ,and other claims which you have never known4 ,grace4 ,and other claims which ,i have never known6 ,you speak in riddles1 love4 ,i only know ,you grew to womanhood1 were beautiful1 ,were loved and wooed1 were married and were blest2-- ,that after passage of mysterious years ,we heard sad stories of your misery1 ,and rumors of desertion2 but your pen ,revealed no secrets of your altered life4 ,enough for me that you are here to-night1 ,and have an ear for sorrow1 and a heart ,which disappointment has inhabited4 ,my history you know4 ,a twelvemonth since ,this fearful1 festive night1 and in this house1 ,i gave my hand to one whom ,i believed ,to be the noblest man ,god ever made2-- ,a man who seemed to my infatuate heart ,heaven's chosen genius1 through whose tuneful soul ,the choicest harmonies of life should flow1 ,growing articulate upon his lips ,in numbers to enchant a willing world4 ,i cannot tell you of the pride that filled ,my bosom1 as ,i marked his manly form1 ,and read his soul through his effulgent eyes1 ,and heard the wondrous music of his voice1 ,that swept the chords of feeling in all hearts ,with such a divine persuasion as might grow ,under the transit of an angel's hand4 ,and1 then1 to think that ,i1 a farmer's child1 ,should be the woman culled from all the world ,to be that man's companion1--to abide ,the nearest soul to such a soul--to sit ,close by the fountain of his peerless life-- ,the welling center of his loving thoughts-- ,and drink1 myself1 the sweetest and the best1-- ,to lay my head upon his breast1 and feel ,that of all precious burdens it had borne ,that was most precious--,oh6 my heart was wild ,with the delirium of happiness-- ,but1 ,mary1 you are weeping6 ,mary4 ,mark it not4 ,your words wake memories which you may guess1 ,and thoughts which you may sometime know--not now4 ,grace4 ,well1 we were married1 as ,i said2 and ,i ,was not unthankful utterly1 ,i think2 ,though1 if the awful question had come then1 ,and stood before me with a brow severe ,and steady finger1 bidding me decide ,which of the two ,i loved the more1 the ,god ,who gave my husband to me1 or his gift1 ,i know ,i should have groaned1 and shut my eyes4 ,we passed a honeymoon whose atmosphere1 ,flooded with inspiration1 and embraced ,by a wide sky set full of starry thoughts1 ,and constellated visions of delight1 ,still wraps me in my dreams--itself a dream4 ,the full moon waned at last1 and in my sky1 ,with horn inverted1 gave its sign of tears2 ,and then1 when wasted to a skeleton1 ,it sank into a heaving sea of tears ,that caught its tumult from my sighing soul4 ,my husband1 who had spent whole months with me1 ,till he was wedded to my every thought1 ,left me through dreary hours1--nay1 days1--alone6 ,he pleaded business--business day and night2 ,leaving me with a formal kiss at morn1 ,and meeting me with strange reserve at eve2 ,and ,i could mark the sea of tenderness ,upon whose beach ,i had sat down for life1 ,hoping to feel for ever1 as at first1 ,the love-breeze from its billows1 and to clasp ,with open arms the silver surf that ran ,to wreck itself upon my bosom1 ebb1 ,day after day receding1 till the sand ,grew dry and hot1 and the old hulls appeared ,of hopes sent out upon that faithless main ,since woman loved1 and he she loved was false4 ,night after night ,i sat the evening out1 ,and heard the clock tick on the mantel-tree ,till it grew irksome to me1 and ,i grudged ,the careless pleasures of the kitchen maids ,whose distant laughter shocked the lapsing hours4 ,mary4 ,but did your husband never tell the cause ,of this neglect8 ,grace4 ,never an honest word4 ,he told me he was writing2 and1 at home1 ,sat down with heart absorbed and absent look4 ,i was offended1 and upbraided him4 ,i knew he had a secret1 and that from ,the center of its closely coiling folds ,a cunning serpent's head1 with forked tongue1 ,swayed with a double story--one for me1 ,and one for whom ,i knew not--whom he knew4 ,his words1 which wandered first as carelessly ,as the free footsteps of a boy1 were trained ,to the stern paces of a sentinel ,guarding a prison door1 and never tripped ,with a suggestion4 ,i despaired at last ,of winning what ,i sought by wiles and prayers2 ,so1 through long nights of sleeplessness ,i lay1 ,and held my ear beside his silent lips-- ,an eager cup--ready to catch the gush ,of the pent waters1 if a dream-swung rod ,should smite his bosom4 ,it was all in vain4 ,and thus months passed away1 and all the while ,another heart was beating under mine4 ,may ,heaven forgive me6 but ,i grieved the charms ,the unborn thing was stealing1 for ,i felt ,that in my insufficiency of power ,i had no charm to lose4 ,mary4 ,and he did not1 ,in this most tender trial of your heart1 ,turn in relenting8--give you sympathy8 ,grace4 ,no--yes6 ,perhaps he pitied me1 and that ,indeed was very pitiful2 for what ,has love to do with pity8 ,when a wife ,has sunk so hopelessly in the regard ,of him she loves that he can pity her1-- ,has sunk so low that she may only share ,the tribute which a mute humanity ,bestows on those whom ,providence has struck ,with helpless poverty1 or foul disease2 ,she may he pitied1 both by earth and heaven1 ,because he pities her4 ,a pitied child ,that begs its bread from door to door is blest2 ,a wife who begs for love and confidence1 ,and gets but alms from pity1 is accurst4 ,well1 time passed on2 and rumor came at last ,to tell the story of my husband's shame ,and my dishonor4 ,he was seen at night1 ,walking in lonely streets with one whose eyes ,were blacker than the night1--whose little hand ,was clinging to his arm4 ,both were absorbed ,in the half-whispered converse of the time2 ,and both1 as if accustomed to the path1 ,turned down an alley1 climbed a flight of steps1 ,entered a door1 and closed it after them-- ,a door of adamant 'twixt hope and me4 ,i had my secret2 and ,i kept it1 too4 ,i knew his haunt1 and it was watched for me1 ,till doubt and prayers for doubt1--pale flowers ,i nourished with my tears--were crushed ,by the relentless hand of ,certainty4 ,oh1 ,mary6 ,mary6 ,those were fearful days4 ,my wrongs and all their shameful history ,were opened to me daily1 leaf by leaf1 ,though he had only shown their title-page3 ,that page was his2 the rest were in my heart4 ,i knew that he had left my home for hers2 ,i knew his nightly labor was to feed ,other than me2--that he was loaded down ,with cares that were the price of sinful love4 ,mary4 ,grace1 in your heart do you believe all this8 ,i fear--,i know--you do your husband wrong4 ,he is not competent for treachery4 ,he is too good1 too noble1 to desert ,the woman whom he only loves too well4 ,you love him not6 ,grace4 ,i love him not8 ,alas6 ,i am more angry with myself than him ,that1 spite his falsehood to his marriage vows1 ,and spite my hate1 ,i love the traitor still4 ,i love him not8 ,why am ,i here to-night-- ,here where my girlhood's withered hopes are strewn ,through every room for him to trample on-- ,but in my pride to show him to you all1 ,with the dear child that publishes a love ,that blessed me once1 e'en if it curse me now8 ,you know ,i do my husband wrong6 ,you think1 ,because he can talk smoothly1 and befool ,a simple ear with pious sophistries1 ,he must be e'en the saintly man he seems4 ,we heard him talk to-night2 it was done well4 ,i saw the triumph of his argument1 ,and ,i was proud1 though full of spite the while4 ,his stuff was meant for me2 and1 with intent ,for selfish purpose1 or in irony1 ,he tossed me bitterness1 and called it sweet4 ,my heart rebelled1 and now you know the cause ,of my harsh words to him4 ,mary4 ',tis very sad6 ,oh very--very sad6 ,pray you go on6 ,who is this woman8 ,grace4 ,i have never learned4 ,i only know she stole my husband's heart1 ,and made me very wretched4 ,i suppose ,that at the time my little babe was born1 ,she went away2 for ,david was at home ,for many days4 ,that pain was bliss to me-- ,i need no argument to teach me that-- ,which caused neglect of her1 and gave offense4 ,since then1 he has not where to go from me2 ,and1 loving well his child1 he stays at home4 ,so he lugs round his secret1 and ,i mine4 ,i call him husband2 and he calls me wife2 ,and ,i1 who once was like an ,april day1 ,that finds quick tears in every cloud1 have steeled ,my heart against my fate1 and now am calm4 ,i will live on2 and though these simple folk ,who call me sister understand me not1 ,it matters little4 ,there is one who does2 ,and he shall have no liberty of love ,by any word of mine4 ',tis woman's lot1 ,and man's most weak and wicked wantonness4 ,mine is like other husbands1 ,i suppose2 ,no worse--no better4 ,mary4 ,ask you sympathy ,of such as ,i8 ,i cannot give it you1 ,for you have shut me from the privilege4 ,grace4 ,i asked it once2 you gave me unbelief4 ,i had no choice but to grow hard again4 ',tis my misfortune and my misery ,that every hand whose friendly ministry ,my poor heart craves1 is held--withheld--by him2 ,and ,i must freeze that ,i may stand alone4 ,mary4 ,and so1 because one man is false1 or you ,imagine him to be1 all men are false2 ,do ,i speak rightly8 ,grace4 ,have it your own way4 ,men fit to love1 and fitted to be loved1 ,are prone to falsehood4 ,i will not gainsay ,the common virtue of the common herd4 ,i prize it as ,i do the goodish men ,who hold the goodish stuff1 and know it not4 ,these serve to fill an easy-going world1 ,and that to clothe it with complacency4 ,mary4 ,i had not thought misanthropy like this ,could lodge with you2 so ,i must e'en confess ,a tale which never passed my lips before1 ,nor sent its flush to any cheek but mine4 ,in this1 ,i'll prove my friendship1 if ,i lose ,the friendship which demands the sacrifice4 ,i have come back1 a worse than widowed wife2 ,yet ,i went out with dream as bright as yours1-- ,nay1 brighter1--for the birds were singing then1 ,and apple-blossoms drifted on the ground ,where snow-flakes fell and flew when you were wed4 ,the skies were soft2 the roses budded full2 ,the meads and swelling uplands fresh and green2-- ,the very atmosphere was full of love4 ,it was no girlish carelessness of heart ,that kept my eyes from tears1 as ,i went forth ,from this dear shelter of the orphan child4 ,i felt that ,god was smiling on my lot1 ,and made the airs his angels to convey ,to every sense and sensibility ,the message of his favor4 ,every sound ,was music to me2 every sight was peace2 ,and breathing was the drinking of perfume4 ,i said1 content1 and full of gratitude1 ,this is as ,god would have it2 and he speaks ,these pleasant languages to tell me so4 ,but ,i had no such honeymoon as yours4 ,a few brief days of happiness1 and then ,the dream was over4 ,i had married one ,who was the sport of vagrant impulses4 ,we had not been a fortnight wed1 when he ,came home to me with brandy in his brain-- ,a maudlin fool--for love like mine to hide ,as if he were an unclean beast4 ,o ,grace6 ,i cannot paint the horrors of that night4 ,my heart1 till then serene1 and safely kept ,in ,trust's strong citadel1 quaked all night long1 ,as tower and bastion fell before the rush ,of fierce convictions2 and the tumbling walls ,boomed with dull throbs of ruin through my brain4 ,and there were palaces that leaned on this-- ,castles of air1 in long and glittering lines1 ,which melted into air1 and pierced the blue ,that marks the star-strewn vault of heaven2--all fell1 ,with a faint crash like that which scares the soul ,when dissolution shivers through a dream ,smitten by nightmare1--fell and faded all ,to utter nothingness2 and when the morn ,flamed up the ,east1 and with its crimson wings ,brushed out the paling stars that all the night ,in silent1 slow procession1 one by one1 ,had gazed upon me through the open sash1 ,and passed along1 it found me desolate4 ,the stupid dreamer at my side awoke1 ,and with such helpless anguish as they feel ,who know that they are weak as well as vile4 ,i saw1 through all his forward promises1 ,excuses1 prayers1 and pledges that were oaths 7,what he1 poor boaster1 thought ,i could not see71 ,that he was shorn of will1 and that his heart ,was as defenseless as a little child's2-- ,that underneath his fair good fellowship ,he was debauched1 and dead in love with sin2-- ,that love of me had made him what ,i loved1-- ,that ,i could only hold him till the wave ,of some overwhelming impulse should sweep in1 ,to lift his feet and bear him from my arms4 ,i felt that morn1 when he went trembling forth1 ,with bloodshot eyes and forehead hot with woe1 ,that henceforth strife would be 'twixt ,hell and me-- ,the odds against me--for my husband's soul4 ,grace4 ,poor dove6 ,poor ,mary6 ,have you suffered thus8 ,you had not even pride to keep you up4 ,were he my husband1 ,i had left him then-- ,the ingrate6 ,mary4 ,not if you had loved as ,i2 ,yet what you know is but a bitter drop ,of the full cup of gall that ,i have drained4 ,had he left me unstained1--had ,i rebelled ,against the influence by which he sought ,to bring me to a compromise with him1-- ,to make my shrinking soul meet his half way1 ,it had been better2 but he had an art1 ,when appetite or passion moved in him1 ,that clothed his sins with fair apologies1 ,and smoothed the wrinkles of a haggard guilt ,with the good-natured hand of charity4 ,he knew he was a fool1 he said1 and said again2 ,but human nature would be what it was1 ,and life had never zest enough to bear ,too much dilution2 those who work like slaves ,must have their days of frolic and of fun4 ,he doubted whether ,god would punish sin2 ,god was1 in fact1 too good to punish sin2 ,for sin itself was a compounded thing1 ,with weakness for its prime ingredient4 ,and thus he fooled a heart that loved him well2 ,and it went toward his heart by slow degrees1 ,till ,virtue seemed a frigid anchorite1 ,and ,vice1 a jolly fellow--bad enough1 ,but not so bad as ,christian people think4 ,this was the cunning work of months--nay1 years2 ,and1 meantime1 ,edward sank from bad to worse4 ,but he had conquered4 ,wine was on his board1 ,without my protest--with a glass for me6 ,his boon companions came and went1 and made ,my home their rendezvous with my consent4 ,the doughty oath that shocked my ears at first1 ,the doubtful jest that meant1 or might not mean1 ,that which should set a woman's brow aflame1 ,became at last 7oh1 shame of womanhood67 ,a thing to frown at with a covert smile2 ,anything to smile at with a decent frown2 ,a thing to steal a grace from1 as ,i feigned ,the innocence of deaf unconsciousness4 ,and ,i became a jester4 ,i could jest ,in a wild way on sacred things and themes2 ,and ,i have thought that in his better moods ,my husband shrank with horror from the work ,which he had wrought in me4 ,i do not know ,if1 during all these downward-tending years1 ,edward kept well his faith with me4 ,i know ,he used to tell me1 in his boastful way1 ,how he had broke the hearts of pretty maids4 ,and that if he were single--well-a-day6 ,the time was past for thinking upon that6 ,and ,i had heart to toss the badinage ,back in his teeth1 with pay of kindred coin2 ,and tell him lies to stir his bestial mirth2 ,and make my boast of conquests2 and pretend ,that the true heart ,i had bestowed on him ,had flown1 and left him but an empty hand4 ,i had some days of pain and penitence4 ,i saw where all must end4 ,i saw1 too well1 ,edward was growing idle1--that his form ,was gathering disgustful corpulence1-- ,that he was going down1 and dragging me ,to shame and ruin1 beggary and death4 ,but judgment came1 and overshadowed us2 ,and one quick bolt shot from the awful cloud ,severed the tie that bound two worthless lives4 ,what ,god hath joined together1 ,god may part3-- ,grace1 have you thought of that8 ,grace4 ,you scare me1 ,mary6 ,nay6 ,do not turn on me with such a look6 ,its dread suggestion gives my heart a pang ,that stops its painful beating4 ,mary4 ,let it pass6 ,one morn we woke with the first flush of light1 ,our windows jarring with the cannonade ,that ushered in the nation's festal day4 ,the village streets were full of men and boys1 ,and resonant with rattling mimicry ,of the black-throated monsters on the hill1-- ,a crashing1 crepitating war of fire1-- ,and as we listened to the fitful feud1 ,dull detonations came from far away1 ,pulsing along the fretted atmosphere1 ,to tell that in the ruder villages ,the day had noisy greeting1 as in ours4 ,i know not why it was1 but then1 and there1 ,i felt a sinking sadness1 passing tears-- ,a dark foreboding ,i could not dissolve1 ,nor drive away4 ,but when1 next morn1 ,i woke ,in the sweet stillness of the ,sabbath day1 ,and found myself alone1 ,i knew that hearts ,which once have been ,god's temple1 and in which ,something divine still lingers1 feel the throb ,along the lines that bind them to the ,throne ,when judgment issues2 and1 though dumb and blind1 ,shudder and faint with prophecies of ill4 ,how--by what cause--calamity should come1 ,i could not guess2 that it was imminent ,seemed just as certain as the morning's dawn4 ,we were to have a gala day1 indeed4 ,there were to be processions and parades2 ,a great oration in a mammoth tent1 ,with dinner following1 and toast and speech ,by all the wordy magnates of the town2 ,a grand balloon ascension afterwards2 ,and1 in the evening1 fireworks on the hill4 ,i knew that drink would flow from morn till night ,in a wild maelstrom1 circling slow around ,the village rim1 in bright careering waves1 ,but growing turbulent1 and changed to ink ,around the village center1 till1 at last1 ,the whirling1 gurgling vortex would engulf ,a maddened multitude in drunkenness4 ,and this was in my thought 7the while my heart ,was palpitating with its nameless fear71 ,as1 wrapped in vaguest dreams1 and purposeless1 ,i laced my shoe and gazed upon the sky4 ,then strange determination stirred in me2 ,and1 turning sharply on my chair1 ,i said1 ,edward1 where'er you go to-day1 ,i go6 ,if ,i had smitten him upon the face1 ,it had not tingled with a hotter flame4 ,he turned upon me with a look of hate-- ,a something worse than anger--and1 with oaths1 ,raved like a fiend1 and cursed me for a fool4 ,but ,i was firm2 he could not shake my will2 ,so1 through the morning1 until afternoon1 ,he stayed at home1 and drank and drank again1 ,watching the clock1 and pacing up and down1 ,until1 at length1 he came and sat by me1 ,to try his hackneyed tricks of blandishment4 ,he had not meant1 he said1 to give offense2 ,but women in a crowd were out of place4 ,he wished to see the aeronauts embark1 ,and meet some friends2 but there would be a throng ,of boys and drunken boors around the car1 ,and ,i should not enjoy it2 more than this1 ,the rise would be a finer spectacle ,at home than on the ground4 ,i gave assent1 ,and he went out4 ,of course1 ,i followed him2 ,for ,i had learned to read him1 and ,i knew ,there was some precious scheme of sin on foot4 ,the crowd was heavy1 and his form was lost ,quick as it touched the mass2 but ,i pressed on1 ,wild shouts and laughter punishing my ears1 ,till ,i could see the bloated1 breathing cone1 ,as if it were some monster of the sky ,caught by a net and fastened to the earth-- ,a butt for jeers to all the merry mob4 ,but ,i was distant still2 and if a man ,in mad impatience tore a passage from ,the crowd that pressed upon him1 or a girl1 ,frightened or fainting1 was allowed escape1 ,i slid like water to the vacant space1 ,and thus1 by deftly won advances1 gained ,the stand ,i coveted4 ,we waited long2 ,and as the curious gazers stood and talked ,about the diverse currents of the air1 ,and wondered where the daring voyagers ,would find a landing-place1 a young man said1 ,in words intended for a spicy jest1 ,a man and woman living in the town ,had taken passage overland for hell6 ,then at a distance rose a scattering shout ,that fixed the vision of the multitude1 ,standing on eager tiptoe1 and afar ,i saw the crowd give way1 and make a path ,for the pale heroes of the crazy hour4 ,hats were tossed wildly as they struggled on1 ,and the gap closed behind them1 till1 at length1 ,they stood within the ring4 ,oh1 damning sight6 ,the woman was a painted courtezan2 ,the man1 my husband6 ,i was dumb as death4 ,my teeth were clenched together like a vise1 ,and every heavy heart-throb was a chill4 ,but there ,i stood1 and saw the shame go on4 ,they took their seats2 the signal gun was fired2 ,the cords were loosed2 and then the billowy bulk ,shot toward the zenith6 ,never bent the sky ,with a more cloudless depth of blue than then2 ,and1 as they rose1 ,i saw his faithless arm ,slide o'er her shoulder1 and her dizzy head ,drop on his breast4 ,then ,i became insane4 ,i felt that ,i was struggling with a dream-- ,a horrid phantasm ,i could not shake off4 ,the hollow sky was swinging like a bell2 ,the silken monster swinging like its tongue2 ,and as it reeled from side to side1 the roar ,of voices round me rang1 and rang again1 ,tolling the dreadful knell of my despair4 ,at the last moment ,i could trace his form1 ,edward leaned over from his giddy seat1 ,and tossed out something on the air4 ,i saw ,the little missive fluttering slowly down1 ,and stretched my hand to catch it1 for ,i knew1 ,or thought ,i knew1 that it would come to me4 ,and it did come to me--as if it slid ,upon the cord that bound my heart to his-- ,strained to its utmost tension--snapped at last4 ,i marked it as it fell4 ,it was a rose4 ,i grasped it madly as it struck my hand1 ,and buried all its thorns within my palm2 ,but the fierce pain released my prisoned voice1 ,and1 with a shriek1 ,i staggered1 swooned1 and fell4 ,that night was brushed from life4 ,a passing friend ,directed those who bore me rudely off2 ,and ,i was carried to my home1 and laid ,entranced upon my bed4 ,the ,sabbath morn ,that followed all this din and devilry ,swung noiseless wide its doors of yellow light1 ,and in the hallowed stillness ,i awoke4 ,my heart was still2 ,i could not stir a hand4 ,i thought that ,i was dying1 or was dead4-- ,that ,i had slipped through smooth unconsciousness ,into the everlasting silences4 ,i could not speak2 but winning strength1 at last1 ,i turned my eyes to seek for ,edward's face1 ,and saw an unpressed pillow4 ,he was gone6 ,i was oppressed with awful sense of loss2 ,and1 as a mother1 by a turbid sea ,that has engulfed her fairest child1 sits down ,and moans over the waters1 and looks out ,with curious despair upon the waves1 ,until she marks a lock of floating hair1 ,and by its threads of gold draws slowly in1 ,and clasps and presses to her frenzied breast ,the form it has no power to warm again1 ,so ,i1 beside the sea of memory1 ,lay feebly moaning1 yearning for a clew ,by which to reach my own extinguished life4 ,it came4 ,a burning pain shot through my palm1 ,and thorns awoke what thorns had put to sleep4 ,it all came back to me--the roar1 the rush1 ,the upturned faces1 the insane hurrahs1 ,the skyward-shooting spectacle1 the shame-- ,and then ,i swooned again4 ,grace4 ,but was he killed8 ,did his foolhardy venture end in wreck8 ,or did it end in something worse than wreck8 ,surely1 he came again6 ,mary4 ,to me1 no more4 ,he had his reasons1 and ,i knew them soon2 ,but1 first1 the fire enkindled in my brain ,burnt through long weeks of fever--burnt my frame ,until it lay upon the sheet as white ,as the pale ashes of a wasted coal4 ,then1 when strength came to me1 and ,i could sit1 ,braced by the double pillows that were mine1 ,a kind friend took my hand1 and told me all4 ,the day that ,edward left me was the last ,he could have been my husband2 for the next ,disclosed his infamy and my disgrace4 ,he was a thief1 and had been one1 for years1-- ,defrauding those whose gold he held in trust2 ,and he was ruined--ruined utterly4 ,the very bed ,i sat on was not his1 ,nor mine1 except by tender charity4 ,a guilty secret menacing behind1 ,a guilty passion burning in his heart1 ,and1 by his side1 a guilty paramour1 ,he seized upon this reckless whim1 and fled ,from those he knew would curse him ere he slept4 ,my cup was filled with wormwood2 and it grew ,bitter and still more bitter1 day by day1 ,changing from shame and hate1 to stern revenge4 ,life had no more for me4 ,my home was lost2 ,my heart unfitted to return to this2 ,and1 reckless of the future1 ,i went forth-- ,a woman stricken1 maddened1 desperate4 ,i sought the city with as sure a scent ,as vultures track a carcass through the air4 ,i knew him there1 delivered up to sin1 ,and longed to taunt him with his infamy1-- ,to haunt his haunts2 to sting his perjured soul ,with sharp reproaches2 and to scare his eyes-- ,with visions of his work upon my face4 ,but ,god had other means than my revenge ,to humble him1 and other thought for me4 ,i saw him only once2 we did not meet2 ,there was a street between us2 yet it seemed ,wide as the unbridged gulf that yawns between ,the rich man and the beggar4 ',twas at dawn4 ,i had arisen from the sleepless bed ,which my scant means had purchased1 and gone forth ,to taste the air1 and cool my burning brow4 ,i wandered on1 not knowing where ,i went1 ,nor caring whither4 ,there were few astir2 ,the market wagons lumbered slowly in1 ,piled high with carcasses of slaughtered lambs1 ,baskets of unhusked corn1 and mint1 and all ,the fresh1 green things that grow in country fields4 ,i read the signs--the long and curious names-- ,and wondered who invented them1 and if ,their owners knew how very strange they were4 ,a corps of weary firemen met me once1 ,late home from service1 with their gaudy car1 ,and loud with careless curses4 ,then ,i stopped1 ,and chatted with a frowsy-headed girl ,who knelt among her draggled skirts1 and scrubbed ,the heel-worn doorsteps of a faded house4 ,then1 as ,i left her1 and resumed my walk1 ,i turned my eyes across the street1 and saw ,a sight which stopped my feet1 my breath1 my heart4 ,it was my husband4 ,oh1 how sadly changed6 ,his bloodshot eyes stared from an anxious face2 ,his hat was battered1 and his clothes were torn ,and splashed with mud4 ,his poisoned frame ,had shrunk away1 until his garments hung ,in folds about him4 ,then ,i knew it all3 ,his life had been a measureless debauch ,since his most shameless flight2 and in his eye1 ,eager and strained1 and peering down the stairs ,that tumbled to the anterooms of hell1 ,i saw the thirst which only death can quench4 ,he did not raise his eyes2 ,i did not speak2 ,there was no work for me to do on him2 ,and when1 at last1 he tottered down the steps ,of a dark gin-shop1 ,i was satisfied1 ,and half relentingly retraced my way4 ,i cannot tell the story of the months ,that followed this4 ,i toiled and toiled for bread1 ,and for the shelter of one stingy room4 ,temptation1 which the hand of poverty ,bears oft seductively to woman's lips1 ,to me came not4 ,i hated men like beasts2 ,their flattering words1 and wicked1 wanton leers1 ,sickened me with ineffable disgust4 ,at length there came a change4 ,one warm ,spring eve1 ,as ,i sat idly dreaming of the past1 ,and questioning the future1 my quick ear ,caught sound of feet upon the creaking stairs1 ,and a light rap delivered at my door4 ,i said1 ,come in6 with half-defiant voice1 ,although ,i longed to see a human face1 ,and needed labor for my idle hands4 ,but when the door was opened1 and there stood ,a man before me1 with an eye as pure ,and brow as fair as any little child's1 ,matched with a form and carriage which combined ,all manly beauty1 dignity1 and grace1 ,a quick blush overwhelmed my pallid cheeks1 ,and1 ere ,i knew1 and by no act of will1 ,i rose and gave him gentle courtesy4 ,he took a seat1 and spoke with pleasant voice ,of many pleasant things--the pleasant sky1 ,the stars1 the opening foliage in the park2 ,and then he came to business4 ,he would have ,a piece of exquisite embroidery2 ,my hand was cunning if report were true2 ,would it oblige him8 ,it would do1 ,i said1 ,that which it could to satisfy his wish2 ,and when he took the delicate pattern out1 ,and spread the dainty fabric on his knees1 ,i knew he had a wife4 ,he went away ,with kind ,good night1 and said that1 with my leave1 ,he'd call and watch the progress of the work4 ,i marked his careful steps adown the stairs1 ,and then1 his brisk1 firm tread upon the pave1 ,till in the dull roar of the distant streets ,it mingled and was lost4 ,then ,i was lost1-- ,lost in a wild1 wide-ranging reverie-- ,from which ,i roused not till the midnight hush ,was broken by the toll from twenty towers4 ,this is a man1 ,i said2 a man in truth2 ,my room has known the presence of a man1 ,and it has gathered dignity from him4 ,i felt my being flooded with new life4 ,my heart was warm2 my poor1 sore-footed thoughts ,sprang up full fledged through ether2 and ,i felt ,like the sick woman who had touched the hem ,of ,jesus' garment1 when through all her veins ,leaped the swift tides of youth4 ,he had a wife6 ,why1 to a wrecked1 forsaken thing like me ,did that thought bring a pang8 ,i did not know2 ,but1 truth to tell1 it gave me stinging pain4 ,if he was noble1 he was naught to me2 ,if he was great1 it only made me less2 ,if he loved truly1 ,i was not enriched4 ,so1 in my selfishness1 ,i almost cursed ,the unknown woman1 thought for whom had brought ,her loving husband to me4 ,what was ,i ,to him8 ,naught but a poor unfortunate1 ,picking her bread up at a needle's point4 ,he'll come and criticise my handiwork1 ,i said1 and when it is at last complete1 ,he'll draw his purse and give me so much gold2 ,and then1 forgetting me for ever1 go ,and gather fragrant kisses for the boon1 ,from lips that do not know their privilege4 ,i could be nothing but the medium ,through which his love should pass to reach its shrine2 ,the glass through which the sun's electric beams ,kindles the rose's heart1 and still remains ,chill and serene itself--without reward6 ,then came to me the thought of my great wrong4 ,a man had spoiled my heart1 degraded me2 ,a wanton woman had defrauded me2 ,i would get reparation how ,i could6 ,he must be something to me--,i to him6 ,all men1 however good1 are weak1 ,i thought2 ,and if ,i can arrest no beam of love ,by right of nature or by leave of law1 ,i'll stain the glass6 ,and the last words ,i said1 ,as ,i lay down upon my bed to dream1 ,were those four words of sin3 ,i'll stain the glass6 ,grace4 ,mary1 ,i cannot hear you more2 your tale1 ,so bitter and so passing pitiful ,i have forgotten tears1 and feel my eyes ,burn dry and hot with looking at your face1 ,now gathers blackness1 and grows horrible4 ,mary4 ,nay1 you must hear me out2 ,i cannot pause2 ,and have no worse to say than ,i have said-- ,thank ,god1 and him who put away my toils6 ,he came1 and came again2 and every charm ,god had bestowed on me1 or art could frame1 ,i used with keenest ingenuities ,to fascinate the sensuous element ,o'er which1 mistrusted1 and but half asleep1 ,his conscience and propriety stood guard4 ,i told with tears the story of my woe2 ,he listened to me with a thoughtful face1 ,and sadly sighed2 and thus ,i won his ruth1 ,and then ,i told him how my life was lost2-- ,how earth had nothing more for me but pain2 ,not e'en a friend4 ,at this1 he took my hand1 ,and said1 out of his nobleness of heart1 ,that ,i should have an honest friend in him2 ,on which ,i bowed my head upon his arm1 ,and wept again1 as if my heart would break ,with the full pressure of his gratitude4 ,he put me gently off1 and read my face3 ,i stood before him hopeless1 helpless1 his6 ,his swift soul gathered what ,i meant it should4 ,he sighed and trembled2 then he crossed the floor1 ,and gazed with eye abstracted on the sky2 ,then came and looked at me2 then turned1 ,as if affrighted at his springing thoughts1 ,and1 with abruptest movement1 left the room4 ,this time he took with him the broidered thing ,that ,i had wrought for him2 and when ,i oped ,the little purse that he rewarded me1 ,i found full golden payment five times told4 ,given for pity8 thought ,i1--that alone8 ,is manly pity so munificent8 ,pity has mixtures that it knows not of6 ,it was a cruel triumph1 and ,i speak ,of it with utter penitence and shame4 ,i knew that he would come again2 ,i knew ,his feet would bring him1 though his soul rebelled2 ,i knew that cheated heart of his would toy ,with the seductive chains that gave it thrall1 ,and strive to reconcile its perjury ,with its own conscience of the better way1 ,by fabrication of apologies ,it knew were false4 ,and he did come again2 ,confessing a strange interest in me1 ,and doing for me many kindly deeds4 ,i knew the nature of the sympathy ,that drew him to my side1 better than he2 ,though ,i could see that solemn change in him ,which every face will wear1 when ,heaven and ,hell ,are struggling in the heart for mastery4 ,he was unhappy2 every sudden sound ,startled his apprehensions2 from his heart ,rose heavy suspirations1 charged with prayer1 ,desire1 and deprecation1 and remorse2-- ,sighs like volcanic breathings--sighs that scorched ,his parching lips and spread his face with ashes1-- ,sighs born in such convulsions of the soul ,that his strong frame quaked like ,vesuvius1 ,burdened with restless lava4 ,day by day ,i marked this dalliance with sinful thought1 ,without a throb of pity in my heart4 ,i took his gifts1 which brought immunity ,from toil and care1 as if they were my right4 ,day after day ,i saw my power increase1 ,until that noble spirit was a slave-- ,a craven1 helpless1 self-suspected slave4 ,but this was not to last--thank ,god and him6 ,one night he came1 and there had been a change4 ,my hand was kindly taken1 but not held ,in the way wonted4 ,he was self-possessed2 ,the powers of darkness and his ,christian heart ,had had a struggle--his the victory2 ,and on his manly brow the benison ,of a majestic peace had been imposed4 ,was ,i to lose the guerdon of my guile8 ,he was my all1 and by the only means ,left to a helpless1 reckless thing1 like me3 ,my heart made pledge the strife should be renewed4 ,i took no notice of his altered mood1 ,but strove1 by all the tricks of tenderness1 ,to fan to life again the drooping flame ,within his heart2--with what success1 at last1 ,the sequel shall reveal4 ,strange fire came down ,responsive to my call1 and the quick flash ,that shriveled resolution1 vanquished will1 ,and with a blood-red flame consumed the crown ,of peace upon his brow1 taught him how weak-- ,how miserably imbecile--he had become1 ,tampering with temptation4 ,such a groan1 ,wrung from such agony1 as then he breathed1 ,pray ,heaven my ears may never hear again6 ,he smote his forehead with his rigid palm1 ,and sank1 as if the blow had stunned him1 to his knees1 ,and there1 with face pressed hard upon his hands ,gave utterance to frenzied sobs and prayers-- ,the wild articulations of despair4 ,i was confounded4 ,he--a man--thought ,i1 ,blind with remorse by simple look at sin6 ,and ,i--a woman--in the devil's hands1 ,luring him ,hellward with no blush of shame6 ,the thought came swift from ,god1 and pierced my heart1 ,like a barbed arrow2 and it quivered there ,through whiles of tumult--quivered--and was fast4 ,thus1 while ,i stood and marked his kneeling form1 ,still shocked by deep convulsions1 such a light ,illumed my soul1 and flooded all the room1 ,that1 without thought1 ,i said1 ,the ,lord is here6 ,then straight my spirit heard these wondrous words3 ,tempted in all points like ourselves1 was ,he-- ,tempted1 but sinless4 ,oh1 what majesty ,of meaning did those precious words convey6 ',twas through temptation1 thought ,i1 that the ,lord-- ,the mediator between ,god and men-- ,reached down the hand of sympathetic love ,to meet the grasp of lost ,humanity2 ,and this man1 kneeling1 has the ,lord in him1 ,and comes to mediate 'twixt ,christ and me1 ,tempted1 but sinless2--one hand grasping mine1 ,the other ,christ's4 ,why had he suffered thus8 ,why had his heart been led far down to mine1 ,to beat in sinful sympathy with mine1 ,but that my heart should cling to his and him1 ,and follow his withdrawal to the heights ,from whence he had descended8 ,then ,i learned ,why ,christ was tempted2 and1 as broad and full1 ,the heart of the great secret was revealed1 ,and ,i perceived ,god's dealings with my soul1 ,i knelt beside the tortured man and wept1 ,and cried to ,heaven for mercy4 ,as ,i prayed1 ,my soul cast off its shameful enterprise2 ,and when it fell1 ,i saw my godless self-- ,my own degraded1 tainted1 guilty heart1 ,which it had hidden from me4 ,oh1 the pang-- ,the poignant throe of uttermost despair-- ,that followed the discovery6 ,i felt ,that ,i was lost beyond the grace of ,god2 ,and my heart turned with instinct sure and swift ,to the strong struggler1 praying at my side1 ,and begged his succor and his prayers4 ,i felt ,that he must lead me up to where the hand ,of ,jesus could lay hold on me1 or ,i was doomed4 ,temptation's spell was past4 ,he took my hand4 ,and1 as he prayed that we might be forgiven1 ,and pledged our future loyalty to ,god ,and ,his white throne within our hearts1 ,i gave ,responses to each promise2 then ,i crowned ,his closing utterance with such ,amen ,as weak hearts1 conscious of their weakness1 give ,when1 bowed to dust1 and clinging to the robes ,of outraged mercy1 they devote themselves ,once and for ever to the pitying ,christ4 ,then we arose and stood upon our feet4 ,he gave me no reproaches1 but with voice ,attempered to his altered mood1 confessed ,his own blameworthiness1 and pressed the prayer ,that ,i would pardon him1 as he believed ,that ,god had pardoned2 but my heart was full1-- ,so full of its sore sense of wrong to him1 ,of the deep guilt of shameful purposes ,and treachery to worthy womanhood1 ,that ,i could not repeat his ,christian words1 ,asking forbearance on my own behalf4 ,he sat before me for a golden hour2 ,and gave me counsel and encouragement1 ,till1 like broad gates1 the possibilities ,of a serener and a higher life ,were thrown wide open to my eager feet1 ,and ,i resolved that ,i would enter in1 ,and1 with ,god's gracious help1 go no more out4 ,for weeks he watched me with stern carefulness1 ,nourished my resolution1 prayed with me1 ,and led me1 step by step1 to higher ground1 ,till1 gathering impulse in the upward walk1 ,and strength in purer air1 and keener sight ,in the sweet light that dawned upon my soul1 ,i grasped the arm of ,jesus1 and was safe4 ,and now1 when ,i look back upon my life1 ,it seems as if that noble man were sent ,to give me rescue from the pit of death4 ,but from his distant height he could not reach ,and act upon my soul2 so ,heaven allowed ,temptation's ladder 'twixt his soul and mine ,that they might meet and yield his mission thrift4 ,i doubt not in my grateful soul to-night ,that had he stayed within his higher world1 ,and tried to call me to him1 ,i had spurned ,alike his mission and his ministry4 ,that he was tempted1 was at once my sin ,and my salvation4 ,that he sinned in thought1 ,and fiercely wrestled with temptation1 won ,for his own spirit that humility ,which ,god had sought to clothe him with in vain1 ,by other measures1 and that strength which springs ,from a great conflict and a victory4 ,we talked of this2 and on our bended knees ,we blessed the ,great ,dispenser for the means ,by which we both had learned our sinful selves1 ,and found the way to a diviner life4 ,so1 with my chastened heart and life1 ,i come ,back to my home1 to live--perhaps to die4 ,god's love has been in all this discipline2 ,god's love has used those awful sins of mine ,to make me good and happy4 ,i can mourn ,over my husband2 ,i can pray for him1 ,nay1 ,i forgive him2 for ,i know the power ,with which temptation comes to stronger men4 ,i know the power with which it came to me4 ,and now1 dear ,grace1 my story is complete4 ,you have received it with dumb wonderment1 ,and it has been too long4 ,tell me what thought ,stirs in your face1 and waits for utterance4 ,grace4 ,that ,i have suffered little--trusted less2 ,that ,i have failed in charity1 and been ,unjust to all men--specially to one4 ,i did not think there lived a man on earth ,who had such virtue as this friend of yours1-- ,weak1 and yet strong4 ',twas but humanity ,to give him pity in his awful strife2 ,to stint the meed of reverence and praise ,for his triumphant conquest of himself1 ,were infamy4 ,i love and honor him2 ,and if ,i knew my husband were as strong1 ,i could fall down before1 and worship him2 ,i could fall down1 and wet his feet with tears-- ,tears penitential for the grievous wrong ,that ,i have done him4 ,but alas6 alas6 ,the thought comes back again4 ,o ,god in heaven6 ,help me with patience to await the hour ,when the great purpose of thy discipline ,shall be revealed1 and1 like this chastened one1 ,i can behold it1 and be satisfied4 ,mary4 ,hark6 ,they are calling us below1 ,i think4 ,we must go down4 ,we'll talk of this again ,when we have leisure4 ,kiss the little one1 ,and thank his weary brain it sleeps so well4 ,they descend4 ,,second ,,episode4 99 99 99 99 99 ,,locality--,the ,kitchen4 ,,present--,,joseph1 ,,samuel1 ,,rebekah1 and other ,,children4 99 99 99 99 99 ,,the ,,question ,,illustrated ,,by ,,story4 ,joseph4 ,have we not had ,button-,button enough1 ,and ,forfeits1 and all such silly stuff8 ,samuel4 ,well1 we were playing ,blind-,man's-,buff ,until you fell1 and rose in a huff1 ,and declared the game was too rude and rough4 ,poor boy6 ,what a pity he isn't tough6 ,all4 ,ha6 ha6 ha6 what a pretty boy6 ,papa's delight1 and mamma's joy6 ,wouldn't he like to go to bed1 ,and have a cabbage-leaf on his head8 ,joseph4 ,laugh1 if you like to6 ,laugh till you're gray2 ,but ,i guess you'd laugh another way ,if you'd hit your toe1 and fallen like me1 ,and cut a bloody gash in your knee1 ,and bumped your nose and bruised your shin1 ,tumbling over the rolling-pin ,that rolled to the floor in the awful din ,that followed the fall of the row of tin ,that stood upon the dresser4 ,samuel4 ,guess again--dear little guesser6 ,you wouldn't catch this boy lopping his wing1 ,or whining over anything4 ,so stir your stumps1 ,forget your bumps1 ,get out of your dumps1 ,and up and at it again2 ,for the clock is striking ten1 ,and ,ruth will come pretty soon and say1 ,go to your beds ,you sleepy heads6 ,so--quick6 ,what shall we play8 ,rebekah4 ,i wouldn't play any more1 ,for ,joseph is tired and sore ,with his fall upon the floor4 ,all4 ,then he shall tell a story4 ,joseph4 ,about old ,mother ,morey8 ,all4 ,no6 ,tell us another4 ,joseph4 ,about my brother8 ,rebekah4 ,now1 ,joseph1 you shall be good1 ,and do as you'd be done by2 ,we didn't mean to be rude ,when you fell and began to cry3 ,we wanted to make you forget your pain2 ,but it frets you1 and we'll not laugh again4 ,joseph4 ,well1 if you'll all sit still1 ,and not be frisking about1 ,nor utter a whisper till ,you've heard my story out1 ,i'll tell you a tale as weird ,as ever you heard in your lives1 ,of a man with a long blue beard1 ,and the way he treated his wives4 ,all4 ,oh1 that will be nice6 ,we'll be still as mice4 ,joseph4 ,relates the old story of ,blue ,beard1 and ,,david1 and ,,ruth enter from the cellar unperceived4 ,centuries since there flourished a man1 7,a cruel old ,tartar as rich as the ,khan71 ,whose castle was built on a splendid plan1 ,with gardens and groves and plantations2 ,but his shaggy beard was as blue as the sky1 ,and he lived alone1 for his neighbors were shy4 ,and had heard hard stories1 by the by1 ,about his domestic relations4 ,just on the opposite side of the plain ,a widow abode1 with her daughters twain2 ,and one of them--neither cross nor vain-- ,was a beautiful little treasure2 ,so he sent them an invitation to tea1 ,and having a natural wish to see ,his wonderful castle and gardens1 all three ,said they'd do themselves the pleasure4 ,as soon as there happened a pleasant day1 ,they dressed themselves in a sumptuous way1 ,and rode to the castle as proud and gay ,as silks and jewels could make them2 ,and they were received in the finest style1 ,and saw everything that was worth their while1 ,in the halls of ,blue ,beard's grand old pile1 ,where he was so kind as to take them4 ,the ladies were all enchanted quite2 ,for they found old ,blue ,beard so polite ,that they did not suffer at all from fright1 ,and frequently called thereafter2 ,then he offered to marry the younger one1 ,and as she was willing the thing was done1 ,and celebrated by all the ton ,with feasting and with laughter4 ,as kind a husband as ever was seen ,was ,blue ,beard then1 for a month1 ,i ween2 ,and she was as proud as any queen1 ,and as happy as she could be1 too2 ,but her husband called her to him one day1 ,and said1 ,my dear1 ,i am going away2 ,it will not be long that ,i shall stay2 ,there is business for me to see to4 ,the keys of my castle ,i leave with you2 ,but if you value my love1 be true1 ,and forbear to enter the ,chamber of ,blue6 ,farewell1 ,fatima6 ,remember6 ,fatima promised him2 then she ran ,to visit the rooms with her sister ,ann2 ,but when she had finished the tour1 she began ,to think about the ,blue ,chamber4 ,well1 the woman was curiously inclined1 ,so she left her sister and prudence behind1 7,with a little excuse7 and started to find ,the mystery forbidden4 ,she paused at the door2--all was still as night6 ,she opened it3 then through the dim1 blue light ,there blistered her vision the horrible sight ,that was in that chamber hidden4 ,the room was gloomy and damp and wide1 ,and the floor was red with the bloody tide ,from headless women1 laid side by side1 ,the wives of her lord and master6 ,frightened and fainting1 she dropped the key1 ,but seized it and lifted it quickly2 then she ,hurried as swiftly as she could flee ,from the scene of the disaster4 ,she tried to forget the terrible dead1 ,but shrieked when she saw that the key was red1 ,and sickened and shook with an awful dread ,when she heard ,blue ,beard was coming4 ,he did not appear to notice her pain2 ,but he took his keys1 and seeing the stain1 ,he stopped in the middle of the refrain ,that he had been quietly humming4 ,mighty well1 madam6 said he1 mighty well6 ,what does this little bloodstain tell8 ,you've broken your promise2 prepare to dwell ,with the wives ,i've had before you6 ,you've broken your promise1 and you shall die4 ,then ,fatima1 supposing her death was nigh1 ,fell on her knees and began to cry1 ,have mercy1 ,i implore you6 ,no6 shouted ,blue ,beard1 drawing his sword2 ,you shall die this very minute1 he roared4 ,grant me time to prepare to meet my ,lord1 ,the terrified woman entreated4 ,only ten minutes1 he roared again2 ,and holding his watch by its great gold chain1 ,he marked on the dial the fatal ten1 ,and retired till they were completed4 ,sister1 oh1 sister1 fly up to the tower6 ,look for release from this murderer's power6 ,our brothers should be here this very hour2-- ,speak6 ,does there come assistance8 ,no4 ,i see nothing but sheep on the hill4 ,look again1 sister6 ,i'm looking still1 ,but naught can ,i see1 whether good or ill1 ,save a flurry of dust in the distance4 ,time's up6 shouted ,blue ,beard1 out from his room2 ,this moment shall witness your terrible doom1 ,and give you a dwelling within the room ,whose secrets you have invaded4 ,comes there no help for my terrible need8 ,there are horsemen twain riding hither with speed4 ,oh6 tell them to ride very fast indeed1 ,or ,i must meet death unaided4 ,time's fully up6 ,now have done with your prayer1 ,shouted ,blue ,beard1 swinging his sword on the stair2 ,then he entered1 and grasping her beautiful hair1 ,swung his glittering weapon around him2 ,but a loud knock rang at the castle gate1 ,and ,fatima was saved from her horrible fate1 ,for1 shocked with surprise1 he paused too late2 ,and then the two soldiers found him4 ,they were her brothers1 and quick as they knew ,what the fiend was doing1 their swords they drew1 ,and attacked him fiercely1 and ran him through1 ,so that soon he was mortally wounded4 ,with a wild remorse was his conscience filled ,when he thought of the hapless wives he had killed2 ,but quickly the last of his blood was spilled1 ,and his dying groan was sounded4 ,as soon as ,fatima recovered from fright1 ,she embraced her brothers with great delight2 ,and they were as glad and as grateful quite ,as she was glad and grateful4 ,then they all went out from that scene of pain1 ,and sought in quietude to regain ,their minds1 which had come to be quite insane1 ,in a place so horrid and hateful4 ',twas a private funeral ,blue ,beard had2 ,for the people knew he was very bad1 ,and1 though they said nothing1 they all were glad ,for the fall of the evil-doer2 ,but ,fatima first ordered some graves to be made1 ,and there the unfortunate ladies were laid1 ,and after some painful months1 with the aid ,of her friends1 her spirits came to her4 ,then she cheered the hearts of the suffering poor1 ,and an acre of land around each door ,and a cow and a couple of sheep1 or more1 ,to her tenantry she granted4 ,so all of them had enough to eat1 ,and their love for her was so complete ,they would kiss the dust from her little feet1 ,or do anything she wanted4 ,samuel4 ,capital6 ,capital6 ,wasn't it good6 ,i should like to have been her brother2 ,if ,i had been one1 you may guess there would ,have been little work for the other4 ,i'd have run him right through the heart1 just so2 ,and cut off his head at a single blow1 ,and killed him so quickly he'd never know ,what it was that struck him1 wouldn't ,i1 ,joe8 ,joseph4 ,you are very brave with your bragging tongue2 ,but if you had been there1 you'd have sung ,a very different tune ,poor ,blue ,beard6 ,he would have been afraid ,of a little boy with a penknife blade1 ,or a tiny pewter spoon6 ,samuel4 ,it makes no difference what you say 7,pretty little boy1 afraid to play67 ,but it served him rightly any way1 ,and gave him just his due4 ,and wasn't it good that his little wife ,should live in his castle the rest of her life1 ,and have all his money1 too8 ,rebekah4 ,i'm thinking of the ladies who ,were lying in the ,chamber ,blue1 ,with all their small necks cut in two4 ,i see them lying1 half a score1 ,in a long row upon the floor1 ,their cold1 white bosoms marked with gore4 ,i know the sweet ,fatima would ,have put their heads on if she could2 ,and made them live--she was so good2 ,and washed their faces at the sink2 ,but ,blue ,beard was not sane1 ,i think3 ,i wonder if he did not drink6 ,for no man in his proper mind ,would be so cruelly inclined ,as to kill ladies who were kind4 ,ruth4 ,stepping forward with ,,david4 ,story and comment alike are bad2 ,these little fellows are raving mad ,with thinking what they should do1 ,supposing their sunny-eyed sister had ,given her heart--and her head--to a lad ,like the man with the ,beard of ,blue4 ,each little jacket ,is now a packet ,of murderous thoughts and fancies2 ,oh1 the gentle trade ,by which fiends are made ,with the ready aid ,of these bloody old romances6 ,and the little girl takes the woman's turn1 ,and thinks that the old curmudgeon ,who owned the castle1 and rolled in gold ,over fields and gardens manifold1 ,and kept in his house a family tomb1 ,with his bowling course and his billiard-room1 ,where he could preserve his precious dead1 ,who took the kiss of the bridal bed ,from one who straightway took their head1 ,and threw it away with the pair of gloves ,in which he wedded his hapless loves1 ,had some excuse for his dudgeon4 ,david4 ,we learn by contrast to admire ,the beauty that enchains us2 ,and know the object of desire ,by that which pains us4 ,the roses blushing at the door1 ,the lapse of leafy ,june1 ,the singing birds1 the sunny shore1 ,the summer moon2-- ,all these entrance the eye or ear ,by innate grace and charm2 ,but o'er them1 reaching through the year1 ,hangs ,winter's arm4 ,to give to memory the sign1 ,the index of our bliss1 ,and show by contrast how divine ,the ,summer is4 ,from chilling blasts and stormy skies1 ,bare hills and icy streams1 ,touched into fairest life arise ,our summer dreams4 ,and virtue never seems so fair ,as when we lift our gaze ,from the red eyes and bloody hair ,that vice displays4 ,we are too low1--our eyes too dark ,love's height to estimate1 ,save as we note the sunken mark ,of brutal ,hate4 ,so this ensanguined tale shall move ,aright each little dreamer1 ,and ,blue ,beard teach them how to love ,the sweet ,fatima4 ,they hate his crimes1 and it is well2 ,they pity those who died2 ,their sense of justice when he fell ,was satisfied4 ,no fierce revenges are the fruit ,of their just indignation2 ,they sit in judgment on the brute1 ,and condemnation2 ,and turn to her1 his rescued wife1 ,her deeds so kind and human1 ,and love the beauty of her life1 ,and bless the woman4 ,ruth4 ,that is the way ,i supposed you would twist it2 ,and now that the boys are disposed of1 ,and the moral so handsomely closed off1 ,what do you say of the girl8 ,that she missed ,when she thought of old ,blue ,beard as some do of ,judas1 ,who with this notion essay to delude us3 ,that when he relented1 ,and fiercely repented1 ,he was hardly so bad ,as he commonly had ,the fortune to be represented8 ,david4 ,the noblest pity in the earth ,is that bestowed on sin4 ,the ,great ,salvation had its birth ,that ruth within4 ,the girl is nearest ,god1 in fact2 ,the boy gives crime its due2 ,she blames the author of the act1 ,and pities too4 ,thus1 from this strange excess of wrong ,her tender heart has caught ,the noblest truth1 the sweetest song1 ,the ,saviour taught4 ,so1 more than measured homily1 ,of sage1 or priest1 or preacher1 ,is this wild tale of cruelty ,love's gentle teacher4 ,it tells of sin1 its deep remorse1 ,its fitting recompense1 ,and vindicates the tardy course ,of ,providence4 ,these boyish bosoms are on fire ,with chivalric possession1 ,and burn with just and manly ire ,against oppression4 ,the glory and the grace of life1 ,and ,love's surpassing sweetness1 ,rise from the monster to the wife ,in high completeness2 ,and thence look down with mercy's eye ,on sin's accurst abuses1 ,and seek to wrest from charity ,some fair excuses4 ,ruth4 ,these greedy mouths are watering ,for the fruit within the basket2 ,and1 although they will not ask it1 ,their jack-knives all are burning ,and their eager hands are yearning ,for the peeling and the quartering4 ,so let us have done with our talk2 ,for they are too tired to say their prayers1 ,and the time is come they should walk ,from the story below to the story upstairs4 ,,the ,,third ,,movement4 ,,locality4--,the ,kitchen4 ,,present4-,,david1 ,,ruth1 ,,john1 ,,peter1 ,,prudence1 and ,,patience1 ,,the ,,question ,,illustrated ,,by ,,the ,,denouement4 ,john4 ,since the old gentleman retired to bed1 ,things have gone strangely4 ,david1 here1 and ,ruth1 ,have wasted thirty minutes underground ,in explorations4 ,one would think the house ,covered the entrance of the ,mammoth ,cave1 ,and they had lost themselves4 ,mary and ,grace ,still hold their chamber and their conference1 ,and pour into each other's greedy ears ,their stream of talk1 whose low monotonous hum1 ,would lull to slumber any storm but this4 ,the children are play-tired and gone to bed2 ,and one may know by looking round the room ,their place of sport was here4 ,and we1 plain folk1 ,who have no gift of speech1 especially ,on themes which we and none may understand1 ,have yawned and nodded in the great square room1 ,and wondered if the parted family ,would ever meet again4 ,ruth4 ,john1 do you see ,the apples and the cider on the hearth8 ,if ,i remember rightly1 you discuss ,such themes as these with noticeable zest ,and pleasant tokens of intelligence2 ,rather preferring scanty company ,to the full circle4 ,so1 sir1 take the lead1 ,and help yourself4 ,john4 ,aye6 ,that ,i will1 and give ,your welcome invitation currency1 ,in the old-fashioned way4 ,come6 ,help yourselves6 ,david4 ,looking out from the window4 ,the ground is thick with sleet1 and still it falls6 ,the atmosphere is plunging like the sea ,against the woods1 and pouring on the night ,the roar of breakers1 while the blinding spray ,o'erleaps the barrier1 and comes drifting on ,in lines as level as the window-bars4 ,what curious visions1 in a night like this1 ,will the eye conjure from the rocks and trees ,and zigzag fences6 ,i was almost sure ,i saw a man staggering along the road ,a moment since2 but instantly the shape ,dropped from my sight4 ,hark6 ,was not that a call-- ,a human voice8 ,there's a conspiracy ,between my eyes and ears to play me tricks1 ,else wanders there abroad some hapless soul ,who needs assistance4 ,there he stands again1 ,and with unsteady essay strives to breast ,the tempest4 ,hush6 ,did you not hear that cry8 ,quick1 brothers6 ,we must out1 and give our aid4 ,none but a dying and despairing man ,ever gave utterance to a cry like that4 ,nay1 wait for nothing4 ,follow me6 ,ruth4 ,alas6 ,who can he be1 who on a night like this1 ,and on this night1 of all nights in the year1 ,holds to the highway1 homeless8 ,prudence4 ,probably ,some neighbor1 started from his home in quest ,of a physician2 or1 more likely still1 ,some poor inebriate1 sadly overcome ,by his sad keeping of the holiday4 ,i hope they'll give him quarters in the barn2 ,if he sleep here1 there'll be no sleep for me4 ,patience4 ,i'll not believe it was a man at all2 ,david and ,ruth are always seeing things ,that no one else sees4 ,ruth4 ,i see plainly now ,what we shall all see plainly1 soon enough4 ,the man is dead1 and they are bearing him ,as if he were a log4 ,quick6 ,stir the fire1 ,and clear the settle6 ,we must lay him there4 ,i will bring cordials1 and flannel stuffs ,with which to chafe him2 open wide the door4 ,the men enter bearing a body apparently lifeless1 which they lay upon the settle4 ,david4 ,now do my bidding1 orderly and swift2 ,and we may save from death a fellow-man4 ,peter1 relieve him of those frozen shoes1 ,and wrap his feet in flannel4 ,this way1 ,ruth6 ,administer that cordial yourself4 ,john1 you are strong1 and that rough hand of yours ,will chafe him well4 ,work with a will1 ,i say6 99 99 99 99 99 ,my hand is on his heart1 and ,i can feel ,both warmth and motion4 ,if we persevere1 ,he will be saved4 ,work with a will1 ,i say6 99 99 99 99 99 ,a groan8 ,ha6 ,that is good4 ,another groan8 ,better and better6 ,ruth4 ,it is down at last6-- ,a spoonful of the cordial4 ,his breath ,comes feebly1 but is warm upon my hand4 ,david4 ,give him brisk treatment1 and persistent1 too2 ,and we shall be rewarded presently1 ,for there is life in him4 99 99 99 99 99 ,he moves his lips ,and tries to speak4 99 99 99 99 99 ,and now he opes his eyes4 ,what eyes6 ,how wandering and wild they are6 ,to the stranger4 ,we are your friends4 ,we found you overcome ,by the cold storm without1 and brought you in4 ,we are your friends1 ,i say2 so be at ease1 ,and let us do according to your need4 ,what is your wish8 ,stranger4 ,my friends8 ,o ,god in ,heaven6 ,they've cheated me6 ,i'm in the hospital4 ,oh1 it was cruel to deceive me thus6 ,no1 you are not my friends4 ,what bitter pain ,racks my poor body6 ,david4 ,poor man1 how he raves6 ,let us be silent while the warmth and wine ,provoke his sluggish blood to steady flow1 ,and each dead sense comes back to life again1 ,o'er the same path of torture which it trod ,when it went out from him4 ,he'll slumber soon1 ,and1 when he wakens1 we may talk with him4 ,prudence4 ,sotto voce4 ,shall ,i not call the family8 ,i think ,mary and ,grace must both be very cold2 ,and they know nothing of this strange affair4 ,i'll wait them at the landing1 and secure ,their silent entrance4 ,david4 ,if it please you--well4 ,,prudence retires1 and returns with ,,grace and ,,mary4 ,mary4 ,why6 ,we heard nothing of it--,grace and ,i3-- ,what a cadaverous hand6 ,how blue and thin6 ,david4 ,at his first wild awaking he bemoaned ,his fancied durance in a hospital2 ,and since he spoke so strangely1 ,i have thought ,he may have fled a mad-house4 ,matters not6 ,we've done our duty1 and preserved his life4 ,mary4 ,shall ,i disturb him if ,i look at him8 ,i'm strangely curious to see his face4 ,david4 ,go4 ,move you carefully1 and bring us word ,whether he sleeps4 ,,mary rises1 goes to the settle1 and sinks back fainting ,why6 ,what ails the girl8 ,i thought her nerves were iron4 ,dash her brow1 ,and bathe her temples6 ,mary4 ,there--there1--that will do4 ',tis over now4 ,david4 ,the man is speaking4 ,hush6 ,stranger4 ,oh1 what a heavenly dream6 ,but it is past1 ,like all my heavenly dreams1 for never more ,shall dream entrance me4 ,death has never dreams1 ,but everlasting wakefulness4 ,the eye ,of the quick spirit that has dropped the flesh ,may close no more in slumber4 99 99 99 99 99 ,i must die6 ,this painless spell which binds my weary limbs-- ,this peace ineffable of soul and sense-- ,is dissolution's herald1 and gives note ,that life is conquered and the struggle o'er4 ,but ,i had hoped to see her ere ,i died2 ,to kneel for pardon1 and implore one kiss1 ,pledge to my soul that in the coming heaven ,we should not meet as strangers1 but rejoin ,our hearts and lives so madly sundered here1 ,through fault and freak of mine4 ,but it is well6 ,god's will be done6 99 99 99 99 99 ,i dreamed that ,i had reached ,the old red farmhouse1--that ,i saw the light ,flaming as brightly as in other times ,it flushed the kitchen windows2 and that forms ,were sliding to and fro in joyous life1 ,restless to give me welcome4 ,then ,i dreamed ,of the dear woman who went out with me ,one sweet spring morning1 in her own sweet spring1 ,to--wretchedness and ruin4 ,oh1 forgive-- ,dear1 pitying ,christ1 forgive this cruel wrong1 ,and let me die6 ,oh let me--let me die6 ,mary6 my ,mary6 ,could you only know ,how ,i have suffered since ,i fled from you4-- ,how ,i have sorrowed through long months of pain1 ,and prayed for pardon1--you would pardon me4 ,david4 ,sotto voce ,mary1 what means this8 ,does he dream alone1 ,or are we dreaming8 ,mary4 ,edward1 ,i am here6 ,i am your ,mary6 ,know you not my face8 ,my husband1 speak to me6 ,oh1 speak once more6 ,this is no dream1 but kind reality4 ,edward4 ,raising himself1 and looking wildly around4 ,you1 ,mary8 ,is this heaven1 and am ,i dead8 ,i did not know you died3 when did you die8 ,and ,john and ,peter1 ,grace and little ,ruth ,grown to a woman2 are they all with you8 ',tis very strange6 ,o pity me1 my friends6 ,for ,god has pitied me1 and pardoned1 too2 ,else ,i should not be here4 ,nay1 you seem cold1 ,and look on me with sad severity4 ,have you no pardoning word--no smile for me8 ,mary4 ,this is not ,heaven's1 but ,earth's reality2 ,this is the farm-house--these your wife and friends4 ,i hold your hand1 and ,i forgive you all4 ,pray you recline6 ,you are not strong enough ,to bear this yet4 ,edward4 ,sinking back4 ,o toiling heart6 ,o sick and sinking heart6 ,give me one hour of service1 ere ,i die6 ,this is no dream4 ,this hand is precious flesh1 ,and ,i am here where ,i have prayed to be4 ,my ,god1 ,i thank thee6 ,thou hast heard my prayer1 ,and1 in its answer1 given me a pledge ,of the acceptance of my penitence4 ,how have ,i yearned for this one priceless hour6 ,cling to me1 dearest1 while my feet go down ,into the silent stream2 nor loose your hold1 ,till angels grasp me on the other side4 ,mary4 ,edward1 you are not dying--must not die2 ,for only now are we prepared to live4 ,you must have quiet1 and a night of rest4 ,be silent1 if you love me6 ,edward4 ,if ,i love8 ,ah1 ,mary6 never till this blessed hour1 ,when power and passion1 lust and pride are gone1 ,have ,i perceived what wedded love may be2-- ,unutterable fondness1 soul for soul2 ,profoundest tenderness between two hearts ,allied by nature1 interlocked by life4 ,i know that ,i shall die2 but the low clouds ,that closed my mental vision have retired1 ,and left a sky as clear and calm as ,heaven4 ,i must talk now1 or never more on earth2 ,so do not hinder me4 ,mary4 ,weeping4 ,have you a wish ,that ,i can gratify8 ,have you any words ,to send to other friends8 ,edward4 ,i have no friends ,but you and these1 and only wish to leave ,my worthless name and memory redeemed ,within your hearts to pitying respect4 ,i have no strength1 and it becomes me not1 ,to tell the story of my life of sin4 ,i was a drunkard1 thief1 adulterer2 ,and fled from shame1 with shame1 to find remorse4 ,i had but few months of debauchery1 ,pursued with mad intent to damp or drown ,the flames of a consuming conscience1 when ,my body1 poisoned1 crippled with disease1 ,refused the guilty service of my soul1 ,and at midday fell prone upon the street4 ,thence ,i was carried to a hospital1 ,and there ,i woke to that delirium ,which none but drunkards this side of the pit ,may even dream of4 ,but at last there came1 ,with abstinence and kindly medicines1 ,release from pain and peaceful sanity2 ,and then ,christ found me1 ready for ,his hand4 ,i was not ready for ,him when ,he came ,and asked me for my youth2 and when ,he knocked ,at my heart's door in manhood's early prime ,with tenderest monitions1 ,i debarred ,his waiting feet with promise and excuse2 ,and when1 in after years1 absorbed in sin1 ,the gentle summons swelled to thunderings ,that echoed through the chambers of my soul ,with threats of vengeance1 ,i shut up my ears2 ,and then ,he went away1 and let me rush ,without arrest1 or protest1 toward the pit4 ,i made swift passage downward1 till1 at length1 ,i had become a miserable wreck-- ,pleasure behind me2 only pain before2 ,my life lived out2 the fires of passion dead1 ,without a friend2 no pride1 no power1 no hope2 ,no motive in me e'en to wish for life4 ,then1 as ,i said1 ,christ came1 with stern and sad ,reminders of ,his mercy and my guilt1 ,and the door fell before ,him4 ,i went out1 ,and trod the wildernesses of remorse ,for many days4 ,then from their outer verge1 ,tortured and blinded1 ,i plunged madly down ,into the sullen bosom of despair2 ,but strength from ,heaven was given me1 and preserved ,breath in my bosom1 till a light streamed up ,upon the other shore1 and ,i struck out ,on the cold waters1 struggling for my life4 ,fainting ,i reached the beach1 and on my knees ,climbed up the thorny hill of penitence1 ,till ,i could see1 upon its distant brow1 ,the ,saviour beck'ning4 ,then ,i ran--,i flew-- ,and grasped ,his outstretched hand4 ,it lifted me ,high on the everlasting rock1 and then ,it folded me1 with all my griefs and tears1 ,my sin-sick body and my guilt-stained soul1 ,to the great heart that throbs for all the world4 ,mary4 ,dear ,lord1 ,i bless ,thee6 ,thou hast heard my prayer1 ,and saved the wanderer6 ,hear it once again1 ,and lengthen out the life ,thou hast redeemed6 ,edward4 ,mary1 my wife1 forbear6 ,i may not give ,response to such petition4 ,i have prayed ,that ,i may die4 ,when first the love ,divine ,received me on its bosom1 and in mine ,i felt the springing of another life1 ,i begged the ,lord to grant me two requests3 ,the first that ,i might die1 and in that world ,where passion sleeps1 and only influence ,from ,him and those who cluster at ,his throne ,breathes on the soul1 the germ of ,his great life1 ,bursting within me1 might be perfected4 ,the second1 that your life1 my love1 and mine ,might be once more united on the earth ,in holy marriage1 and that mine might be ,breathed out at last within your loving arms4 ,one prayer is granted1 and the other waits ,but a brief space for its accomplishment4 ,mary4 ,but why this prayer to die8 ,still loving me1-- ,with the great motive for desiring life ,and the deep secret of enjoyment won1-- ,why pray for death8 ,edward4 ,do you not know me1 ,mary8 ,i am afraid to live1 for ,i am weak4 ,i've found a treasure only life can steal2 ,i've won a jewel only death will keep4 ,in such a heart as mine1 the priceless pearl ,would not be safe4 ,that which ,i would not take ,when health was with me1--which ,i spurned away ,so long as ,i had power to sin1 ,i fear ,would be surrendered with that power's return ,and the temptation to its exercise4 ,for soul like mine1 diseased in every part1 ,there is but one condition in which grace ,may give it service4 ,for my malady ,the ,great ,physician draws the blood away ,that only flows to feed its baleful fires2 ,for only thus the balsam and the balm ,may touch the springs of healing4 ,so ,i pray ,to be delivered from myself1--to be ,delivered from necessity of ill1-- ,to be secured from bringing harm to you4 ,oh1 what a boon is death to the sick soul6 ,i greet it with a joy that passes speech4 ,were the whole world to come before me now1-- ,wealth with its treasures2 ,pleasure with its cup2 ,power robed in purple2 ,beauty in its pride1 ,and with ,love's sweetest blossoms garlanded2 ,fame with its bays1 and ,glory with its crown1-- ,to tempt me lifeward1 ,i would turn away1 ,and stretch my hands with utter eagerness ,toward the pale angel waiting for me now1 ,and give my hand to him1 to be led out1 ,serenely singing1 to the land of shade4 ,mary4 ,edward1 ,i yield you4 ,i would not retain ,one who has strayed so long from ,god and heaven1 ,when his weak feet have found the only path ,open for such as he4 ,edward4 ,my strength recedes2 ,but ere it fail1 tell me how fares your life4 ,you have seen sorrow2 but it comforts me ,to hear the language of a chastened soul ,from one perverted by my guilty hand4 ,you speak the dialect of the redeemed-- ,the ,heaven-accepted4 ,tell me it is so1 ,and you are happy4 ,mary4 ,with sweet hope and trust ,i may reply1 'tis as you think and wish4 ,i have seen sorrow1 surely1 and the more ,that ,i have seen what was far worse2 but ,god ,sent ,his own servant to me to restore ,my sadly straying feet to the sure path2 ,and in my soul ,i have the pledge of grace ,which shall suffice to keep them there4 ,edward4 ,ah1 joy6 ,you found a friend2 and my o'erflowing heart1 ,welling with gratitude1 pours out to him ,for his kind ministry its fitting meed4 ,oh1 breathe his name to me1 that my poor lips ,may bind it to a benison1 and that1 ,while dying1 ,i may whisper it with those-- ,jesus and ,mary--which ,i love the best4 ,name him1 ,i pray you4 ,mary4 ,you would ask of me ,to bear your thanks to him1 and to rehearse ,your dying words8 ,grace4 ,he asks your good friend's name2 ,you do not understand him4 ,mary4 ,it is hard ,to give denial to a dying wish2 ,but1 ,edward1 ,i've no right to speak his name4 ,he was a ,christian man1 and you may give ,of the full largess of your gratitude ,all1 without robbing ,god1 you have to give1 ,and fail1 e'en then1 of worthy recompense4 ,edward4 ,your will is mine4 ,grace4 ,nay1 ,mary1 tell it him6 ,where is he going he should bruit the name8 ,remember where he lies1 and that no ears ,save those of angels-- ,mary4 ,there are others here ,who may not hear it4 ,ruth4 ,we will all retire4 ,it is not proper we should linger here1 ,barring the sacred confidence of hearts ,parting so sadly4 ,david4 ,mary1 you must yield1 ,nor keep the secret longer from your friends1 ,mary4 ,david1 you know not what you say4 ,david4 ,i know2 ,so give the dying man no more delay4 ,mary4 ,i will declare it under your command4 ,this stranger friend--stranger for many months-- ,this man1 selectest instrument of ,heaven1 ,who gave me succor in my hour of need1 ,snatched me from ruin1 rescued me from want1 ,counseled and cheered me1 prayed with me1 and then ,led me with careful hand into the light1 ,was he now bending over you in tears-- ,david1 my brother6 ,edward4 ,blessed be his name6 ,brother by every law1 above--below6 ,grace4 ,pale and trembling1 ,david8 ,my husband8 ,did ,i hear aright8 ,you are not jesting6 ,sure you would not jest ,at such a juncture6 ,speak1 my husband1 speak6 ,is this a plot to cheat a dying man1 ,or cheat a wife who1 if it be no plot1 ,is worthy death8 ,what can you mean by this8 ,mary4 ,not more nor less than my true words convey4 ,grace4 ,nay1 ,david1 tell me6 ,david4 ,mary's words are truth4 ,grace4 ,o mean and jealous heart1 what hast thou done6 ,what wrong to honor1 spite to ,christian love1 ,and shame to self beyond self-pardoning6 ,how can ,i ever lift my faithless eyes ,to those true eyes that ,i have counted false2 ,or meet those lips that ,i have charged with lies2 ,or win the dear embraces ,i have spurned8 ,o most unhappy1 most unworthy wife6 ,no one but he who still has clung to thee1-- ,proud1 and imperious1 and impenitent1-- ,no one but he who has in silence borne ,thy peevish criminations and complaints ,can now forgive thee1 when in deepest shame ,thou bowest with confession of thy faults4 ,dear husband6 ,david6 ,look upon your wife6 ,behold one kneeling never knelt to you6 ,i have abused you and your faithful love1 ,and1 in my great humiliation1 pray ,you will not trample me beneath your feet4 ,pity my weakness1 and remember1 too1 ,that ,love was jealous of thee1 and not ,hate-- ,that it was ,love's own pride tormented me4 ,my husband1 take me once more to your arms1 ,and kiss me in forgiveness2 say that you ,will be my counselor1 my friend1 my love2 ,and ,i will give myself to you again1 ,to be all yours--my reason1 confidence1 ,my faith and trust all yours1 my heart's best love1 ,my service and my prayers1 all yours--all yours6 ,david4 ,rise1 dearest1 rise6 ,it gives me only pain ,that such as you should kneel to such as ,i4 ,your words inform me that you know how weak ,i am whom you have only fancied weak4 ,forgive you8 ,i forgive you everything2 ,and take the pardon which your prayer insures4 ,let this embrace1 this kiss1 be evidence ,our jarring hearts catch common rhythm again1 ,and we are lovers4 ,ruth4 ,hush6 ,you trouble him4 ,he understands this scene no more than we4 ,mary1 he speaks to you4 ,edward4 ,dear wife1 farewell6 ,the room grows dim1 and silently and soft ,the veil is dropping 'twixt my eyes and yours1 ,which soon will hide me from you--you from me4 ,only one hand is warm2 it rests in yours1 ,whose full1 sweet pulses throb along my arm1 ,so that ,i live upon them4 ,cling to me6 ,and thus your life1 after my life is past1 ,shall lay me gently in the arms of ,death4 ,thus shall you link your being with a soul ,gazing unveiled upon the ,great ,white ,throne4 ,dear hearts of love surrounding me1 farewell6 ,i cannot see you now2 or1 if ,i do1 ,you are transfigured4 ,there are floating forms ,that whisper over me like summer leaves2 ,and now there comes1 and spreads through all my soul4 ,delicious influx of another life1 ,from out whose essence spring1 like living flowers1 ,angelic senses with quick ultimates1 ,that catch the rustle of ethereal robes1 ,and the thin chime of melting minstrelsy-- ,rising and falling--answered far away-- ,as ,echo1 dreaming in the twilight woods1 ,repeats the warble of her twilight birds4 ,and flowers that mock the ,iris toss their cups ,in the impulsive ether1 and spill out ,sweet tides of perfume1 fragrant deluges1 ,flooding my spirit like an angel's breath4 99 99 99 99 99 ,and still the throng increases2 still unfold ,with broader span and more elusive sweep ,the radiant vistas of a world divine4 ,but ,o my soul6 what vision rises now6 ,far1 far away1 white blazing like the sun1 ,in deepest distance and on highest height1 ,through walls diaphanous1 and atmosphere ,flecked with unnumbered forms of missive power1 ,out-going fleetly and returning slow1 ,a ,presence shines ,i may not penetrate2 ,but on a throne1 with smile ineffable1 ,i see a form my conscious spirit knows4 ,jesus1 my ,saviour6 ,jesus1 ,lamb of ,god6 ,jesus who taketh from me all my sins1 ,and from the world6 ,jesus1 ,i come to thee6 ,come thou to me6 ,o come1 ,lord1 quickly6 ,come6 ,david4 ,flown on the wings of rapture6 ,is this death8 ,his heart is still2 his beaded brow is cold2 ,his wasted breast struggles for breath no more2 ,and his pale features1 hardened with the stress ,of ,life's resistance1 momently subside ,into a smile1 calm as a twilight lake1 ,sprent with the images of rising stars1 ,we have seen ,evil in his countless forms ,in these poor lives2 have met his armed hosts ,in dread encounter and discomfiture2 ,and languished in captivity to them1 ,until we lost our courage and our faith2 ,and here we see their ,chieftain--,terror's ,king6 ,he cuts the knot that binds a weary soul ,to faithless passions1 sateless appetites1 ,and powers perverted1 and it flies away ,singing toward heaven4 ,he turns and looks at us1 ,and finds us weeping with our gratitude-- ,full of sweet sorrow1--sorrow sweeter far ,than the supremest ecstasy of joy4 ,and this is death6 ,think you that raptured soul ,now walking humbly in the golden streets1 ,bearing the precious burden of a love ,too great for utterance1 or with hushed heart ,drinking the music of the ransomed throng1 ,counts death an evil8--evil1 sickness1 pain1 ,calamity1 or aught that ,god prescribed ,to cure it of its sin1 or bring it where ,the healing hand of ,christ might touch it8 ,no6 ,he is a man to-night--a man in ,christ4 ,this was his childhood1 here2 and as we give ,a smile of wonder to the little woes ,that drew the tears from out our own young eyes1 ,the kind corrections and severe constraints ,imposed by those who loved us--so he sees ,a father's chastisement in all the ill ,that filled his life with darkness2 so he sees ,in every evil a kind instrument ,to chasten1 elevate1 correct1 subdue1 ,and fit him for that heavenly estate-- ,saintship in ,christ--the ,manhood ,absolute6 ,l',,envoy4 ,midnight and silence6 ,in the ,west1 unveiled1 ,the broad1 full moon is shining1 with the stars4 ,on mount and valley1 forest1 roof1 and rock1 ,on billowy hills smooth-stretching to the sky1 ,on rail and wall1 on all things far and near1 ,cling the bright crystals1--all the earth a floor ,of polished silver1 pranked with bending forms ,uplifting to the light their precious weight ,of pearls and diamonds1 set in palest gold4 ,the storm is dead2 and when it rolled away ,it took no star from heaven1 but left to earth ,such legacy of beauty as ,the ,wind-- ,the light-robed shepherdess from ,cuban groves-- ,driving soft showers before her1 and warm airs1 ,and her wide-scattered flocks of wet-winged birds1 ,never bestowed upon the waiting ,spring4 ,pale1 silent1 smiling1 cold1 and beautiful6 ,do storms die thus8 ,and is it this to die8 ,midnight and silence6 ,in that hallowed room ,god's full-orbed peace is shining1 with the stars4 ,on head and hand1 on brow1 and lip1 and eye1 ,on folded arms1 on broad unmoving breast1 ,on the white-sanded floor1 on everything ,rest the pale radiance1 while bending forms ,stand all around1 loaded with precious weight ,of jewels such as holy angels wear4 ,the man is dead2 and when he passed away ,he blotted out no good1 but left behind ,such wealth of faith1 such store of love and trust1 ,as breath of joy1 in-floating from the isles ,smiled on by ceaseless summer1 and indued ,with foliage and flowers perennial1 ,never conveyed to the enchanted soul4 ,do men die thus8 ,and is it this to die8 ,midnight and silence6 ,at each waiting tied1 ,husband and wife1 embracing1 kneel in prayer2 ,and lips unused to such a benison ,breathe blessings upon evil1 and give thanks ,for knowledge of its sacred ministry4 ,an infant nestles on a mother's breast1 ,whose head is pillowed where it has not lain ,for months of wasted life--the tale all told1 ,and confidence and love for aye secure4 ,the widow and the virgin3 where are they8 ,the morn shall find them watching with the dead1 ,like the two angels at the tomb of ,christ1-- ,one at the head1 the other at the foot1-- ,guarding a sepulcher whose occupant ,has risen1 and rolled the heavy stone away6 ,,the ,,end4 ,transcriber's ,note3 ,in the ,first ,movement1 one word was missing from our print copy2 the symbol 999999 denotes the missing word4 ,this work contains some rare words and variants1 such as blent1 indites1 mekly1 reck1 ruth 7no capital71 sprent1 and ween4