GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE.
VOL. XXXV. AUGUST, 1849. No. 2.
Table of Contents
Fiction, Literature and Articles
The Curtain Lifted
Indian Legend of the Star and Lily
Jasper St. Aubyn
Sketches of Life in Our Village
Mary Wilson
Olden Times
Two Hours of Doom
The Captive of York
A Memory
Wild-Birds of America
Editor’s Table
Review of New Books
Poetry, Music, and Fashion
Watouska: A Legend of the Oneidas
The Improvisatrice
The Eighteenth Sonnet of Petrarca
Elim
Faith’s Warning
Lament of the Gold-Digger
To Mary
Little Willie
Words of Waywardness
Translation of a Recently Discovered Fragment of a
Poem by Sappho
Ermengarde’s Awakening
Kubleh
This World of Ours
My Spirit
Le Follet
Yes, Let Me Like a Soldier Fall
Transcriber’s Notes can be found at the end of this eBook.
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[Illustration: LA SIESTA.]
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GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE.
VOL. XXXV. PHILADELPHIA, AUGUST, 1849. NO. 2.
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THE CURTAIN LIFTED.
OR PROFESSIONS—PRACTICAL AND THEORETICAL.
BY MRS. CAROLINE H. BUTLER.
CHAPTER I.
_The Deacon._
Everybody called Mr. Humphreys a good man. To have found any fault with
the deacon would have been to impugn the church itself, whose most firm
pillar he stood. No one stopped to analyze his goodness—it was enough
that in all outward semblance, in the whole putting together of the
outward man, there was a conformity of sanctity; that is, he read his
Bible—held family prayers night and morning—preached long homilies to
the young—gave in the cause of the heathen—and was, moreover, of a
grave and solemn aspect, seldom given to the folly of laughter.
All this, and more did good Deacon Humphreys; and yet one thing he
lacked, viz., the sweet spirit of charity.
I mean not that he oppressed the widow, or robbed the orphan of bread;
no, not this, it was the cold unforgiving spirit with which he looked
upon the errors of his fellow man—the iron hand with which he thrust
far from him the offender, which betrayed the want of that charity
“_which rejoiceth not in iniquity, suffereth long, and is kind_.”
He was also pertinaciously sectarian. No other path than the one in
which he walked could lead to eternal life. No matter the sect, so that
they differed from him, it was enough—they were outlawed from the gates
of Heaven. Ah! had the deacon shared more the spirit of our blessed
Saviour, in whose name he offered up his prayers, then, indeed, might he
have been entitled to the Christian character he professed.
Mrs. Humphreys partook largely of her husband’s views. She, too, was
irreproachable in her daily walks, and her household presented a rare
combination of order and neatness. The six days work was done, and done
faithfully, and the seventh cared for, ere the going down of the
Saturday’s sun, which always left her house in order—her rooms newly
swept and garnished—the stockings mended—the clean clothes laid out
for the Sabbath wear—while in the kitchen pantry, a joint of cold meat,
or a relay of pies, was provided, that no hand might labor for the
creature comforts on the morrow. As the last rays of the sun disappeared
from hill and valley, the doors of the house were closed—the blinds
pulled down—the well-polished mahogany stand drawn from its upright
position in the corner of the sitting-room, which it occupied from
Monday morning until the coming of the Saturday night—the great family
Bible placed thereon, while with countenances of corresponding gravity,
and well-balanced spectacles, the deacon and his wife read from its holy
pages.
Thus in all those outward observances of piety, whereon the great eyes
of the great world are staring, I have shown that the deacon and his
good wife might challenge the closest scrutiny. Nor would I be
understood to detract aught from these observances, or throw down one
stone from the altars of our Puritan fathers. We need all the legacy
they left their children. The force of good example is as boundless as
the tares of sin—let us relax nothing which may tend to check the evil
growth—and who shall say that the upright walk of Deacon Humphreys was
without a salutary influence.
But it is with the _inner_ man we have to do. The fairest apples are
sometimes defective at the core.