pa Many must have noticed the radical change of character produced by a severe illness, or other personal affliction, upon any one whose proud spirit and haughty relf-reliant confidence seemed to hold itself, in conscious strength, as quite superior to the ordinary class of mortals, and in no way to be subdued by the ills of life to which they so readily succumb. Look in upon such a character, and converse with him after he has been "shaken over the grave," or brought into the closest communion with those who have suffered long, and left their places vacant; and tell me if the shadow under which he has passed has not, in blanching his cheek, and drawing that leaden line of sorrow round his eyes, also left him marked with more graceful beauty, having given to him the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit. unseemly lamentation, and that our trou- | under the heavy hand of Providence, bles would melt away before a scrutinous which at length often produces such a examination. It is apt to make one feel subdued tone of mind, that resignation small to find out either that we have been becomes a resident virtue in a character setting great store on what in the end perhaps once proud and haughty; and proves utterly valueless, or that we have this is one reason why the wise man been shrinking, in rather a cowardly said: "It is better to go into the house manner, from what is powerless to harm. of mourning than the house of mirth." If we were to make a rule to wait tiently for a certain definite period, say, if you like, for a year and a day,before we give vent to any murmurings over our crosses and vexations, many a trial that we thought would overshadow all our lives with its baneful influences would, in that period, be found set up as a beacon light, to signalize the unexpected good our seeming calamity had revealed to us, and to cheer our hearts when we fall into another "slough of despond." Shadows that do not seem at all to throw a grateful shade over our lives often warn us of coming storms, and, like the dark little petrel to the mariner, tell us there is dirty weather coming on. And when we are thus prepared, by an overhanging cloud, for a storm of misfortune that is about to break upon us, we are far less likely to be upset in the squall, or swamped in the heavy sea rolling so fearfully around us. It is very frequently the case that when calamities fall upon us, they do not come singly, but there is, as it were, a shower of them; and any occurrence that will serve in some way to break their weight at first, when they threaten our unprotected heads, must be hailed as a gentle messenger, though it may come in an unwelcome form, and be "as black as a Tulgy" or one of Mother Carey's chickens. As a good soaking from a thunderstorm often does a person no harm, but perhaps in some way is rather beneficial than otherwise to their health, so when an apparent misfortune does fall rather heavily upon us, it does not consequently follow that, after all, we shall be really any the worse for it. He is a crusty personage who grumbles at every mishap that occurs, as though it would bring him in sorrow to an untimely end; and I am given to think that the majority of those who let puny troubles worry them inadequately are strange, just at present, to real affliction of a grave character. There is a chastening of the spirit It is hardly fair, I think, to call old age the shady time of life, as though there were little or no sunshine and happiness for persons bordering upon threescore-and-ten. Little children often seem so buoyantly happy, that we are almost led for the moment to set them down as free from care; but how short-lived is their joy! We pass by them again in a few moments, and a cloud is hanging over them, for verily the little things are all in tears. In the prime of manhood, when the passions are strongest, and the physical and intellectual vigor at their height, there is the battle of life to fight; and if keen enjoyment is realized in all the full exhuberance of health and strength, troubles also then will fall thick, and, perhaps with a heavy strain as well on the heart-strings, will try what mental tension we can long endure. In later years, when the unruly part of our physical nature interferes less with the mental energies, there is often a calm placidity of temper and an unruffled equanimity, that we may look for in vain in the heyday of enough before us in the old man and the life. It is something like the Indian child. summer in America, which is welcomed, indeed, after the burning sun and devastating storms of their hot months. In looking back upon some aged men whose acquaintance I have made, there seems around a few of them to be a halo of mild tranquility, such as we do not see realized in any other stage of life. Let us sit again under the eaves of that quiet cottage, so cosily nestled in the valley, and so pretty, with its spiring firtrees, and the rustic wooden bridge thrown over the brooklet that girdles those roundly-swelling knolls of grass which form most of the little homestead. We sit there with the old cottager, who might say with Barzilai, "thy servant is this day fourscore years old,"-because the overhanging thatch, and the flowers luxuriantly creeping above our heads, pleasantly shield us from the glare of the sun. And a smile plays pleasingly over the old man's face so venerable with its fringe of whitened locks-as he reverts to olden times, and tells us youngsters all about his hives of bees, and the woods which once encroached upon their pretty domain, and the birds which formerly used to sing there, but have now deserted the valley altogether; and other reminiscences of days when he was young. When these recollections of his early prime brighten up his countenance, there seems such a happy smile of placid content there, that one might almost be led to envy him his years, they teem with such a store of pleasing memories. Children are playing around the cottage; and one beautiful cherub boy-that only wanted a pair of tiny wings, to make him as sweet an angel as ever Rubens paintedtold us he came from London, but was not in any hurry to go back again; and his fat, good-tempered face, dimpled with smiles, showed us that fresh air, exercise in the patches of fields around the house, and the plain cottage-fare, agreed with him remarkably well. It hardly seems fair, contrasting these two pictures of youth and age, to allow that the old man has any chance with the child, in looking at the bright and dark side of their daily life. Nay, some may say, if you are treating of sunshine and shadow, why travel further for similes? here are quite But stay, friend; for one who is sitting beside me, on the same bench as the octogenarian, came here when a child, and used to play about on the same sunny slopes as the little darling that was prattling to us just now; and love for the cozy spot brought him to see it once again, after several years' absence. The veteran cottager scarcely seems older now than he did ten years ago; and in those days the children, often envied the old man, and thought, if they could do as he did, they should often be so much happier and more contented. In the first place he had no lessons to learn, and could go out and in when he liked, without asking leave; and in the hot weather he could drink when he was thirsty, which they were not always allowed to do; and if it was very cold, he sat by the fire as long as he liked; nor, indeed, had he to get up early in the morning when he was called, unless he pleased, and it was quite convenient to do so. These, which seem such slight advantages in favor of the old man, were certainly thought much of by the children; and we must look at his advantages from their point of view, if we are to try adequately to estimate their several sources of joy and sorrow. Surely he had no merry, ringing laugh like theirs, as they gambolled about in their childish games, and chased the butterflies from flower to flower! But then he rarely had to cry, and their pretty faces were often wet with tears. Surely he could not make one in the ring of little fairies, that jumped up and down untiringly, while two of their number chased one another round the circle, bobbing in and out among the tiny arms and legs, and sometimes bursting the magic ring of clasped fingers, in their hot pursuit! But then he was not called in-doors when the fun was at its height; nor had he to march off to bed just in the coolest part of the evening, long before it was dark. Surely he could not trundle a hoop very far, without letting it fall, nor skip very long with the nicest ropes! But then he could walk where he chose, ay, even go out of bounds, without fear of being put to stand in the corner. But whose is that face and figure rising before my mind's eye now, and asking me to take the picture while memory has it in fresh keeping? "Thos. Noonan, aged 100 years," was written upon his coffin, some few weeks back, when he was carried to the churchyard. It is not many months ago since I met him, bent upon a morning's walk of some four miles or so, and he nodded quite cheerily, and did not seem at all distressed, though he was carrying a bag, containing a few articles that he was collecting in his round, and would dispose of by and by at the nearest marine-store. I have often stopped to talk with him, and hear him relate some of his adventures when he sailed with Nelson's fleet in the "Billy Ruffian" (Bellerophon). He was present at Trafalgar, and some other naval engagements, and did not, on the whole, dislike his majesty's service, finding it far preferable to that of the American merchant, under whom he subsequently served. Logging timber during the winter months in the forests of North America, and afterwards getting it on board ship, was, according to his account, any thing but pleasant employment. He was a kind-hearted old soul, and would often go a mile or more out of his way to see a very infirm old man, who was about two years younger than himself. I have seen him, after a long walk of some four miles, and a good deal of it uphill too, place his bag down at the threshold of the door where his old companion lived, and, leaning against the door-post of the cottage, inquire after his health, and then quietly scrape his shoes before he went in to see him. There must be some downright hearty friendship in that man, who, being between ninety and a hundred, goes far out of his way to see even the dearest of friends. Walking an extra mile or so, to pay a morning call, may not seem much to those who are young and lusty, and put a league or two behind them easily; but wait till you are four-score-and-ten, and then see how it will be. Sometimes, in watching this old gentleman trudging along with a bag rather fuller than usual, I have asked him if the weight did not sadly distress him; but he made light of his burden, and said he did not mind any thing under twenty pounds, though he could not conveniently carry more. A trifling gratuity was always received. with a grateful smile, and with none of the whining tone of the professional beggar,-those cant phrases and unctuous benedictions which we would so often prefer being without, when we have such serious doubt both of the sincerity of those who utter them, and of our own deservings. Though old Noonan must have had many troubles, yet his days were far from being darkly shadowed, and the sunshine in his smiling countenance would put many of us to the blush, who love to be under a cloud, that we may fain excuse our unjust murmurs. Perhaps there could not be invented a greater punishment for an inveterate grumbler than putting him in a position where he could not possibly find any cause for complaining. When there was an atmosphere all sunshine and cheerfulness around him, and every grievance driven away,—just as St. Patrick banished all the venomous reptiles from "ould Ireland,"-then it would be most disagreeably palpable that the main cause of his discontent was inherent within him, and very little dependent on external circumstances. Such a knowledge would be far from consolatory, and we fear that his poor finger-nails would get bitten harder than ever, when he found there was no one upon whom he could cast part of the blame, and so rejoice in not being alone in his misery. Sometimes a fearsome shadow suddenly darkens our sky, and we hurriedly glance around for a place of safety and protection, like a timid fowl when a bird of evil omen hovers over the farmyard. Though we are not now exactly afraid of one of the Arabian Nights genii coming and flying away with us in the dark, still most of us have some bugbear of our fancy that will occasionally shake his dark pinions over us, and make us ashamed of our moral pusillanimity. And in times of sunny freedom from such morbid fancies, when our pulse beats free, and we have no black bile disturbing the harmonious working of our physical machinery by clogging the wheels of our existence, how heartily do we despise such absurd and doleful misgivings, and think we never more will be so ungrateful to our univer- peradventure a few crosses to ruffle the sal Father! "Horas non numero nisi serenas. " It would be well, in numbering our days, if we counted them rather by those about which there is something pleasant to remember, than be continually summing up those which were beclouded by care; but we are generally more prone to single out the dark portions of the picture, as if there were no sunny spots which will live in memory, bright through a long vista of intervening years. It is wearisome to ride or walk along a level road for any great distance. Both ourselves and the horse we ride are very glad occasionally of a hill to climb; for though it may be more toilsome to labor up it, we know there will be a downward slope on the other side, which will be all the more enjoyable after struggling up the ascent. I wonder if the reader ever tried to imagine a world where there were no ups and downs in life, but where personal, domestic, social, and national well-being was always maintained with the. nicest equilibrium! If he has, I am afraid he will have found that happy family difficult to preserve from physical and mental stagnation. Verily occasional discomfort seems so essential to our full appreciation of ease, and occasional discord to the keenest enjoyment of harmony, that without these common disturbers of our peace, we should hardly know how to tickle our senses into a supreme delight. The worry and turmoil of business make the comforts of a happy home, away from the din and clatter of city life, all the more enjoyable. The anxieties and responsibilities of official life give a greater zest to leisure and recreation, when the harness can be thrown off for a spell, and the manager at the bank, or secretary at the company's office, can bid good-bye to red-tape, and relish the wild freedom of the moors, or quieter pleasures of the seaside. In going out of, or entering any large town, we are sure to find on the outskirts a lot of elegant, genteel residences, where the wealthier men of business retire to, after spending the greater part of the day at their counting-houses or shops. After a long morning spent in all the bustle of commercial strife,-with temper, such as strikes among workmen, the unpleasant tightness of the bank screw, the non-arrival of an important cargo of perishable good, the failure of Brown, Jones, or Robinson, and other vexatious events incidental to large capitalists as well as humbler tradesmen,-it is very jolly indeed to hail a cab and be set down at your pretty Italian villa, where the smoothy-shaven lawn invites you to tread on its soft green velvety pile, and the roses and honeysuckles waft a delicious perfume in through the low windows opening on to your sloping terrace, gay with masses of brilliant flowers. Of course it is an understood thing that business cares are not allowed to enter through the portals of your peaceful retreat. "Procul, oh! procul este profani," is considered to be posted over your gateway, so that the little circle of friends who meet you at dinner scarcely know wheth. er you are a city broker, a post-captain, or a civic functionary with aldermanic claims. But, after all, is it not the irksomeness if you please to call it such—of your daily avocation that makes your cozy villa so enjoyable? If you do not think so, stay there entirely for a few days, and do not even have your business-correspondence brought to you; and say if you like your sylvan walks and elegantly-furnished apartments so well, now you have got ample time leisurely to enjoy them. I am afraid, before you had been there continuously for a week, the gardener would begin to find master's temper rather uncertain, and the feminine part of the establishment would wish you out of the way, and suggest a drive into the City again, as a sort of wholesome recreation. Few of us can get on well without something that is in some measure a sort of daily burden that will exact a moderate amount of energy from us; and if it is something over which we personally have not much control, perhaps it is all the better. If we have nothing to do, and set ourselves the task, we often go about it in such a half-hearted, lackadaisical manner-knowing that it is of no great moment whether the work is done or not -that the self-imposed employment seems the weariest of all others, and we would gladly serve another master. "Six days shalt thou labor." There it is: work must be done; difficulties must be encountered; obstacles must be surmounted; rest must be won by fatigue of mind or body; and it is of no use our trying to shuffle-off one of the laws of human nature imposed by Providence, and which the experience of six thousand years tells us had better be fulfilled to the letter. It certainly is bad when employment that is altogether uncongenial beclouds the best part of our days; and it would be good policy, we think, then to effect a change, even at some pecuniary sacrifice. But there are many who never know the pleasure of performing an unpleasant task so well that the fact of working it out piecemeal, in such a way that no one can cavil at the quality, gives a sense of inherent satisfaction, and duty has its own reward. There are few employments but what will yield something to interest us, if we give ourselves up to them with a good will, determined to make the most of a position we would nevertheless desire to alter. Look at Hugh Miller, when, under the pressure of poverty, he was compelled to labor with a gang of ordinary workmen in a stone-quarry! Verily he did not like the situation; but for all that he made the best of it, and not only became an excellent stonecutter, but by assiduously searching for knowledge among the stones he labored upon, laid the basis for that fund of geological information, which afterwards produced The Testimony of the Rocks, and other valuable scientific works, which hold a high rank both in England and among the savants of other lands. Among our Church dignitaries, one who gained the highest episcopalian seat labored as a youth in the central mining districts of England. Even the dark shadows of the coal-pit did not deter him from gaining light and knowledge, and working his way out of the uncongenial mine into a purer atmosphere more befitting the exalted nature of his intellect. Many of us do not mind a longish walk in the dark if we are tolerably sure of finding our way to the sunlight again. Working men do not object occasionally to dirty work in a dark hole, if they can see the job will not last long. Witness that grimy fellow, who has now walked past the window, with a large bottle of ale in his hand. He and his fellow-workmen have just been slaving hard at a hot and heavy task, and I have no doubt but that the thought of the refreshing draught of beer they were going presently to enjoy had a cheering effect upon them, and made them care less about the perspiration streaming down their naked busts as they toiled away at their sweltering work. They say, "it is a long late that has no turning;" and it must be a dark pathway that has no gleam of light to flicker down upon it. Even the very chiffoniers of Paris and mudlarks of London, who spend the greater part of their life in the city sewers, find something to interest them in their seemingly offensive employment; for has not the history of some of their number appeared in the columns of a contemporary journal, showing that a dustman or a scavenger may not fail to make his life sublime, should he turn his energies to good account? No life on earth can be made all sunshine; but it is far easier for us to becloud our way, and render it much more dreary than it need be. There are always plenty of clouds hovering overhead, and some of them look very black indeed when we turn a melancholy face up to them. Even the sun himself has "a sickly glare" when the eye is filmy and illness enervates our frame. Let our spirits rise superior to the common ills of life, and then we shall see many cloudlets melt away, as they do in the firmanent, when "In full-orbed glory the majestic moon Rolls through the dark-blue depths." And if we turn the darkest portions of our lives to good account, and let our chastened spirit become, as is wisely intended, more highly rectified by passing through afflictions, we may sing, in reverting to the shadows under which we have passed, when the cold dew of suffering beaded our temples, "How beautiful is night!"' |