The Happiness of Hazelbrook
ABOUT two miles from the village of Hazelbrook by the road, but a
much shorter distance across the fields, stood a fine old mansion,
surrounded by an extensive park. The deer bounded across the
greensward, or grazed peacefully beneath the shade of stately elms, and
a populous colony of rooks cawed noisily from the summit of the tall
dark fir trees at the back of the house.
Hazelbrook Hollow, as it was called, was a very ancient place. And
report said that the old hall, and part of one wing of the building,
dated so far back as the time of William the Conqueror. A fine avenue
of elms led to the house, from the garden front of which grassy
terraces extended, one below the other, to a clear, bright sheet of
water. This miniature lake was bounded on one side by a beautiful
grassy walk, hedged in by gigantic rhododendrons, which in the early
summer presented a splendid show of bright blossoms.
On the opposite side of the lake, a thick yew hedge was cut at
intervals into various quaint devices, and in an open glade stood a
gray, moss-grown sun-dial. Several fine swans sailed majestically on
the water, forming a scene of quiet and peaceful beauty for which the
"stately homes of England" are so remarkable.
Sir Herbert Tracy, the owner of Hazelbrook Hollow, was still in the
prime of life. He had lived a great deal abroad on account of his
wife's delicate health, which obliged her to winter in a warm climate.
But of late, she had become so much stronger that she had already
passed one winter at Hazelbrook, and had felt no ill effects from it.
Sir Herbert and Lady Tracy had had several children, but they all died
in their infancy, with the exception of a son and daughter. Young
Herbert Tracy was in his eighteenth year, and was finishing his studies
at Cambridge. His sister Mabel was younger. It was a source of great
happiness to Sir Herbert and his wife to feel that they might be able
to live at Hazelbrook.
They were most anxious that both Herbert and Mabel should early learn
to care for their poorer neighbours.
Herbert Tracy was a son of whom any parent might feel proud, and
little fairy-like, gentle Mabel was, as old Granny Hale called her,
"the happiness of Hazelbrook." Not a cottage for miles round but was
gladdened by a visit from Mabel, especially when the shadow of sickness
or sorrow had fallen.
It is easy for rich people to give a sum of money, but they are not
always so liberal of their time; and it is most true that, in many
instances, an hour's reading to a blind woman, or a half-hour's
soothing talk with some troubled spirit, is far more valued than a
gift of money would be. Mabel always made a point of spending an hour
on Sunday afternoon with Nelly Lawrence, and these visits were the
brightest spots in Nelly's life, and looked forward to with delight.
It was Easter Sunday—a bright and beautiful morning, not a breath of
wind was stirring nor a cloud flitting across the deep blue sky. The
birds were singing gaily, the bees were humming in the sunshine, and
the air was filled with a sweet scent of spring flowers. As Mabel Tracy
walked across the fragrant meadows leading from Hazelbrook Hollow to
Mrs. Lawrence's cottage, her young heart glowed with love and gratitude
to the Almighty Creator of this beautiful world, who had given her so
much to enjoy.
A bright flush of pleasure flitted across Nelly's face as Mabel entered
the cottage.
"Good morning, Nelly; how are you to-day?"
"Much the same, thank you, Miss Mabel, but so glad to see you. Mother
said she thought you would not come until the afternoon to-day, and so
I did not expect you so early."
"I came as soon as I could, Nelly, for I thought I should like to bring
you a spring nosegay this fine Easter morning." And as Mabel spoke, she
put a bunch of delicate spring flowers into Nelly's hands.
"Oh, thank you, thank you," said the child, her eyes sparkling with
pleasure.
"They are very beautiful, are they not, Nelly? And dear mamma has made
me think them more so than ever this morning, by showing me what a good
lesson spring flowers may teach us if we think rightly about them."
Nelly looked puzzled, as if she did not quite understand what Mabel
meant.
"Mamma reminded me," continued Mabel, "that if I had looked in the
garden during the winter months, I should have sought in vain for these
sweet flowers; yet all the while the root was in the ground alive, and
the leaves and blossoms were ready to burst out from it as soon as ever
the warm weather came. Just so our bodies, when lying in the grave, are
like flowers in winter; they are hidden, and are apparently dead, but
at the resurrection, they will rise again into new life.
"And then again, Nelly, you know all plants come first from seeds, and
the seed when put into the ground dies, and from its death come the
plant and flower; but the flower is far more beautiful than the seed;
and thus at the resurrection our glorified bodies will be far more
beautiful than our present ones."
"And there will be no sickness then," said Nelly, sighing.
"No, Nelly, our bodies then will be free from all sickness and death.
They will dwell in a land where 'there shall be no more death, neither
sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain.'"
"Is it very wrong, Miss Mabel, to feel a little discontented sometimes?
I have never before thought of what you have told me to-day, but I will
try to do so when I feel lonely and dull. I so often wish I could help
mother; it is that which makes me murmur at being so long ill. I seem
as if I shouldn't so much mind for myself, but when I see mother with
so much more to do than she has strength to get through, I cannot help
wishing that God would make me strong and well."
"I do not wonder at your feeling so, dear Nelly, and yet you should
pray for strength to strive against such feelings. Dear papa was
reading to me in a book yesterday, that 'every moment brings its
mercies,' and that mercies ought therefore to bring content. You have
many mercies, Nelly, if you only set yourself to look for them. Think
what a blessing it is to have so good a mother as you have; and how
many poor children there are who have not so many home comforts as you
possess!
"Our gardener was telling mamma, yesterday, of a poor little gipsy
child who died of some fever out on the heath beyond the forest, and
who had no other shelter than a poor tent, and no bed but some straw on
the damp ground. Another great blessing, which you would value more if
you had been abroad as much as I have, is the being born and living in
dear happy England. Many years ago, my dear mamma gave me a beautiful
hymn to learn, and I have never forgotten it."
"Can you say it now, Miss Mabel?"
"I think I can, Nelly; at all events, I will try."
Mabel then repeated the favourite hymn, beginning—
"I thank the goodness and the grace
Which on my birth have smiled,
And made me, in these Christian days,
A happy English child."
"I like that hymn very much," said Nelly. "When you were abroad, Miss
Mabel, did you ever go to those countries where people bow down to
blocks of wood and stone?"
"No, Nelly, those countries are a great way off; but I have been in
countries much nearer home, where people profess to worship the true
God, and yet pray to pictures and images of saints, as they call them,
to intercede for them with God. And you know, Nelly dear, there is only
one way of getting to God, and that is—"
"Through Jesus Christ, our Lord," whispered Nelly.
"Right, Nelly. 'No man cometh unto the Father, but by "Me"'—these
are our Saviour's own words. And yet, in Roman Catholic countries,
people pray to the Virgin Mary, and to others who were weak and sinful
human beings like the rest of mankind, and who needed God's grace and
Christ's blood to save their souls."
"Please go on, Miss Mabel."
"Our peaceful, happy English Sabbaths, Nelly, how often have I longed
for them! And have thought that if I could but hear our village church
bell ringing, it would be to me like sounds of music. In France, Sunday
is like a noisy fair day; the people go to mass in the morning, and
then spend the rest of the day in amusements of all kinds. It was
impossible even to go from the house where we lived to the English
place of worship without passing through scenes which made one shudder.
Music, singing, dancing, shows of all kinds; and all on that day which
God has commanded us to remember and keep holy. Oh we have very, very
much to be thankful for," continued Mabel; "let us be grateful for the
present, and trust in God for the future.
"I must go now, Nelly; when I come again, I will try and tell you a
beautiful story which papa gave me to read the other day."