Read Ebook: Be Courteous or Religion the True Refiner by Maxwell M H Mary H

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Ebook has 355 lines and 25231 words, and 8 pages

"Why, Alice," replied Mary, "you told her this morning that you were very glad to see her, and now you have no interest in making her either comfortable or happy."

"To be sure," said Alice; "do you suppose that I was going to say, 'I am not at all glad to see you, Miss Prim--I am mad enough with Henry Boyd to pull his ears, because he went to your house for you?' You would not have had me say so; but these were my feelings; so what am I to do?"

"You are very kind," said Emma, as she took the bright dipper of milk from Mary. "I ate but little breakfast, and am very fond of milk. This looks so nice too, so pure and white, in this clean, shining dipper:" and Emma sat looking at the milk, as though it were a pity to drink it up; and Mary stood looking at her, until she thought that perhaps it was not polite to do so, and turned away.

"Don't go," said Emma, "unless you choose to be by yourself. Sit down here just a minute. I have queer thoughts about this milk; and since we are all alone, I will tell you what they are. You read the Bible, Ma--,--I mean Miss Palmer?"

"Yes; but call me Mary, if you please. I am not used to being called Miss."

"Was it?" said Emma, with animation, "how strange that I should have the same thoughts, without knowing anything about it! When you gave me this milk I thought of that passage, and of the one about the cup of cold water; and now, Mary, please to say why you took all this pains for me. Was it just to be polite?"

"Then I have not lost my reward," said Mary. "But here come Fanny and Alice. They are very entertaining, and the day will be less tedious if you can manage to keep with them. Fanny is plain spoken, but people call her a good-hearted girl; and Alice is so funny."

"O," replied Mary, "I love to have you with me."

She was prevented from saying more, for Alice now called out, "Forward, march! Do you hear the drum?"

Emma looked at Mary, and saw the deep blush upon her face, and the tear that, in spite of herself, trembled in her mild blue eye.

"It is the signal for dinner," said Mary, recovering herself in a minute, and turning with a smile toward Emma. "Henry wants us to go to the wagons." So they walked along arm-in-arm, while Alice and Fanny whispered together about this sudden intimacy, and prophesied that hot love like that would soon be cold.

"I mean to tell Mary just what I think of it," said Fanny; "for I am not afraid to speak my mind to anybody."

It was not wonderful that Alice did not know the secret of that affection between two who were comparatively strangers to each other. The reason was not plain even to Emma and Mary, for neither of them yet knew it by the Scripture name, which is "unity of the Spirit." Each had loved the other while as yet no word of communication had passed between them, because each had a portion of that Spirit which binds heart to heart. Alice would not have understood this had it been told her, for she had never entertained this gentle Spirit. She might have done so, for it knocks at every human heart; but there are other spirits there--spirits that must be cast out, before that which is long-suffering, meek, and good, will come in and sup with us. Alice would not cast emulation, pride, envy, and jealousy out of her heart, that the good Spirit might enter. Would she have done so, she might not have found it so difficult to understand what Emma and Mary saw in each other to love.

The company was now assembled under a large tree near to the roadside. Henry had constructed a rude table, over which was spread a cloth, and, assisted by Joshua, he was now bringing the dinner from the wagon, while the Misses Sliver arranged the dishes.

"Here is a comfortable seat, Miss Lindsay," said Henry, when the dinner was ready; and he led her to a rock beside the table, which was covered with moss.

"One of nature's verdant cushions," said Susan Sliver.

"Nature is very polite to the aristocracy," whispered Fanny, loud enough to be heard; but Emma lifted little Edwin to the rock, saying that it was just high enough for him.

Fanny had determined to show that she was not afraid to act herself anywhere, so she talked about matters not at all interesting to the company, taking care to think differently from every one who expressed an opinion.

Again the question arose in Emma's mind, whether such rudeness could be the fruit of a good heart; but she quieted herself by saying, "I will ask Dora about it."

After the dinner was over, Miss Margaret Sliver began to talk of some verses that Susan had written for this occasion, and insisted on drawing them from her pocket. Susan pretended great unwillingness; but her sister easily possessed herself of the copy, which, with great pathos of manner, she read to the company.

"Splendid! elegant!" exclaimed Alice; but at the same time she stepped upon Fanny's toe, and gave her a merry sidelong glance. "Beautiful! are they not, Mary Palmer?"

"I am no judge of poetry," said Mary, modestly; "so my opinion is not worth having."

"Did you," asked Emma, coloring a little, "then I think they must have been from a hymn by James Montgomery, of which I am very fond, and sometimes repeat unconsciously."

"Of course," said Fanny, looking suddenly at Emma, "you think Miss Sliver equal to Montgomery."

"This is not the place for me to say whether I do or not," replied Emma, quietly.

"I know," said Fanny, "that there are some people who think that the truth is not to be spoken at all times; but I have never yet been afraid to say what I think."

"There are things," said Henry, "of which we may not think rightly, and, understanding this, some are slow to speak."

"And who is to be the judge of our thoughts," asked Fanny, "whether they be right or wrong?"

At last, Mary, in a low voice, replied: "The Bible should be our rule, both for thought and word, and conscience must judge between that and us."

"And does the Bible teach you to flatter people with your tongue, while you are laughing at them in your sleeves?" asked Fanny.

"No," replied Mary; "but it teaches us to love our neighbor as ourselves, to be courteous, and pitiful."

All now had withdrawn from the table, except Emma, Mary, Joshua Cheever, and little Edwin. "Your milk is very nice, Mary," said Eddy, "but it does not cure my thirst; O I do want some cold water."

"There is none nearer than the pond," said Joshua, "unless you go to Graffam's; but they are so piggish, I would choke before I would ask water of them. The last time I went there, the old woman sent one of the young ones to tell me that the village folks were an unmannerly set, and she wanted them to keep their distance. I told the girl to give my love to her mother, and tell her that she was the sweetest poppy upon the plain. So you see that it wouldn't do for me to go there again; I might get my head cracked with one of Graffam's rum-jugs."

"I am not afraid to go," said Mary. "I have no doubt but that the blueberry parties are a trouble to Mrs. Graffam."

Emma now lifted Edwin from his seat upon the rock, and taking his hand, while Mary brought the bright dipper, they started for the log-house, which looked in the distance like a black stump.

"Like Jesus?" asked Eddy.

"Yes," said Mary. "He didn't love himself at all; but he loved us, even unto death."

"How wonderful!" said Emma. "Talk some more about him, Mary dear, if you please."

But they were now at the poor door, which swung upon its wooden hinges: they were about to knock, when they saw a forlorn-looking woman come from a dark closet, with a sick child in her arms.

"Poor little thing!" said Mary, going toward her. "What is the matter with him, Mrs. Graffam?"

"Yes," said Mary, "he looks as my dear little sister did just before she died!"

"When did she die?" asked Mrs. Graffam.

"Just as the grass was getting green," said Mary. "It was a fit time for her to die, Mrs. Graffam; for she was born in the spring, and it seemed exactly as though the sweet bud had to go back to the summer-land before it could bloom."

"And if your little baby dies, Mrs. Graffam," said Eddy, "he will be a flower in God's garden; won't he, Mary?"

"Yes," whispered Mary, while the poor woman's face flushed, and her lip quivered. Mary glanced at Edwin, and remembered her errand.

"Mrs. Graffam," said she, "I know that the blue-berry parties must be a great trouble to you, and we would not have come here for water, only Eddy is not very well."

"You are welcome to as much water as you want," interrupted Mrs. Graffam, "and so is any one who can treat us with civility. We are very poor, it is true, and that is not our greatest misfortune either; but it is hard to be despised."

"There is a good old lady living with my mother," said Emma, "who is used to sickness, and might know what to do for your babe, Mrs. Graffam; shall I ask her to come with me, and see you?"

"I shall be glad to see anybody," was the reply, "who is like you or your little friends;" and bidding the poor woman a good-by, they went back to the plain.

Henry Boyd remembered his promise to Mrs. Lindsay, and before the sun was down the company were on their way home. The talk and clatter of the morning were now hushed. Joshua whistled, while his horse plodded lazily along, until Fanny peevishly bade him "hold his tongue."

"Anybody does that," said Joshua, "when he whistles!" but he good-naturedly stopped.

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