A FEW minutes after Mrs. Markland left her husband's side, she
stepped from the house, carrying a small basket in one hand, and
leading a child, some six or seven years old, with the other.
"Are you going over to see Mrs. Elder?" asked the child, as they
moved down the smoothly-graded walk.
"Yes, dear," was answered.
"I don't like to go there," said the child.
"Why not, Aggy." The mother's voice was slightly serious.
"Every thing is so mean and poor."
"Can Mrs. Elder help that, Aggy?"
"I don't know."
"She's sick, my child, and not able even to sit up. The little girl
who stays with her can't do much. I don't see how Mrs. Elder can
help things looking mean and poor; do you?"
"No, ma'am," answered Aggy, a little bewildered by what her mother
said.
"I think Mrs. Elder would be happier if things were more comfortable
around her; don't you, Aggy?"
"Yes, mother,"
"Let us try, then, you and I, to make her happier."
"What can I do?" asked little Aggy, lifting a wondering look to her
mother's face.
"Would you like to try, dear?"
"If I knew what to do."
"There is always a way when the heart is willing. Do you understand
that, love?"
Aggy looked up again, and with an inquiring glance, to her mother.
"We will soon be at Mrs. Elder's. Are you not sorry that she is so
sick? It is more than a week since she was able to sit up, and she
has suffered a great deal of pain."
"Yes, I'm very sorry." And both look and tone confirmed the truth of
her words. The child's heart was touched.
"When we get there, look around you, and see if there is nothing you
can do to make her feel better. I'm sure you will find something."
"What, mother?" Aggy's interest was all alive now.
"If the room is in disorder, you might, very quietly, put things in
their right places. Even that would make her feel better; for nobody
can be quite comfortable in the midst of confusion."
"Oh! I can do all that, mother." And light beamed in the child's
countenance. "It's nothing very hard."
"No; you can do all this with little effort; and yet, trifling as
the act may seem, dear, it will do Mrs. Elder good: and you will
have the pleasing remembrance of a kind deed. A child's hand is
strong enough to lift a feather from an inflamed wound, even though
it lack the surgeon's skill." The mother said these last words half
herself.
And now they were at the door of Mrs. Elder's unattractive cottage,
and the mother and child passed in. Aggy had not overdrawn the
picture when she said that everything was poor and mean; and
disorder added to the unattractive appearance of the room in which
the sick woman lay.
"I'm sorry to find you no better," said Mrs. Markland, after making
a few inquiries of the sick woman.
"I shall never be any better, I'm afraid," was the desponding
answer.
"Never! Never is a long day, as the proverb says. Did you ever hear
of a night that had no morning?" There was a cheerful tone and
manner about Mrs Markland that had its effect; but, ere replying,
Mrs. Elder's dim eyes suddenly brightened, as some movement in the
room attracted her attention.
"Bless the child! Look at her!" And the sick woman glanced toward
Aggy, who, bearing in mind her mother's words, was already busying
herself in the work of bringing order out of disorder.
"Look at the dear creature!" added Mrs. Elder, a glow of pleasure
flushing her countenance, a moment before so pale and sad.
Unconscious of observation, Aggy, with almost a woman's skill, had
placed first the few old chairs that were in the room, against the
wall, at regular distances from each other. Then she cleared the
littered floor of chips, pieces of paper, and various articles that
had been left about by the untidy girl who was Mrs. Elder's only
attendant, and next straightened the cloth on the table, and
arranged the mantel-piece so that its contents no longer presented
an unsightly aspect.
"Where is the broom, Mrs. Elder?" inquired the busy little one,
coming now to the bedside of the invalid.
"Never mind the broom, dear; Betsy will sweep up the floor when she
comes in," said Mrs. Elder. "Thank you for a kind, good little girl.
You've put a smile on every thing in the room. What a grand
housekeeper you are going to make!"
Aggy's heart bounded with a new emotion. Her young cheeks glowed,
and her blue eyes sparkled. If the pleasure she felt lacked any
thing of pure delight, a single glance at her mother's face made all
complete.
"When did you hear from your daughter?" asked Mrs. Markland.
There was a change of countenance and a sigh.
"Oh! ma'am, if Lotty were only here, I would be happy, even in
sickness and suffering. It's very hard to be separated from my
child."
"She is in Charleston?"
"Yes, ma'am,"
"Is her husband doing well?"
"I can't say that he is. He isn't a very thrifty man, though steady
enough."
"Why did they go to Charleston?"
"He thought he would do better there than here; but they haven't
done as well, and Lotty is very unhappy."
"Do they talk of returning?"
"Yes, ma'am; they're both sick enough of their new home. But then it
costs a heap of money to move about with a family, and they haven't
saved any thing. And, more than this, it isn't just certain that
James could get work right away if he came back. Foolish fellow that
he was, not to keep a good situation when he had it! But it's the
way of the world, Mrs. Markland, this ever seeking, through change,
for something better than Heaven awards in the present."
"Truly spoken, Mrs. Elder. How few of us possess contentment; how
few extract from the present that good with which it is ever
supplied! We read the fable of the dog and the shadow, and smile at
the folly of the poor animal; while, though instructed by reason, we
cast aside the substance of to-day in our efforts to grasp the
shadowy future. We are always looking for the blessing to come; but
when the time of arrival is at hand, what seemed so beautiful in the
hazy distance is shorn of its chief attraction, or dwarfed into
nothingness through contrast with some greater good looming grandly
against the far horizon."
Mrs. Markland uttered the closing sentence half in reverie; for her
thoughts were away from the sick woman and the humble apartment in
which she was seated. There was an abstracted silence of a few
moments, and she said:
"Speaking of your daughter and her husband, Mrs. Elder; they are
poor, as I understand you?"
"Oh yes, ma'am; it is hand-to-mouth with them all the time. James is
kind enough to Lotty, and industrious in his way; but his work never
turns to very good account."
"What business does he follow?"
"He's a cooper by trade; but doesn't stick to any thing very long. I
call him the rolling stone that gathers no moss."
"What is he doing in Charleston?"
"He went there as agent for a man in New York, who filled his head
with large ideas. He was to have a share in the profits of a
business just commenced, and expected to make a fortune in a year or
two; but before six months closed, he found himself in a strange
city, out of employment, and in debt. As you said, a little while
ago, he dropped the present substance in grasping at a shadow in the
future."
"The way of the world," said Mrs. Markland.
"Yes, yes; ever looking for the good time coming that never comes,"
sighed Mrs. Elder. "Ah, me," she added, "I only wish Lotty was with
me again."
"How many children has she?"
"Four."
"One a baby?"
"Yes, and but three months old."
"She has her hands full."
"You may well say that, ma'am; full enough."
"Her presence, would not, I fear, add much to your comfort, Mrs.
Elder. With her own hands full, as you say, and, I doubt not, her
heart full, also, she would not have it in her power to make much
smoother the pillow on which your head is lying. Is she of a happy
temper, naturally?"
"Well, no; I can't say that she is, ma'am. She is too much like her
mother: ever looking for a brighter day in the future."
"And so unconscious of the few gleams of sunshine that play warmly
about her feet--"
"Yes, yes; all very true; very true;" said Mrs. Elder, despondingly.
"The days that look so bright in the future, never come."
"They have never come to me." And the sick woman shook her head
mournfully. "Long, long ago, I ceased to expect them." And yet, in
almost the next breath, Mrs. Elder said:
"If Lotty were only here, I think I would be happy again."
"You must try and extract some grains of comfort even from the
present," replied the kind-hearted visitor. "Consider me your
friend, and look to me for whatever is needed. I have brought you
over some tea and sugar, a loaf of bread, and some nice pieces of
ham. Here are half a dozen fresh eggs besides, and a glass of jelly.
In the morning I will send one of my girls to put everything in
order for you, and clear your rooms up nicely. Let Betsy lay out all
your soiled clothing, and I will have it washed and ironed. So,
cheer up; if the day opened with clouds in the sky, there is light
in the west at its close."
Mrs. Markland spoke in a buoyant tone; and something of the spirit
she wished to transfer, animated the heart of Mrs. Elder.
As the mother and her gentle child went back, through the deepening
twilight, to their home of luxury and taste, both were, for much of
the way, silent; the former musing on what she had seen and heard,
and, like the wise bee, seeking to gather whatever honey could be
found: the latter, happy-hearted, from causes the reader has seen.