A NEW HOME.
James and his daughter were now settled down in a place which they
could call home; they furnished their rooms in a simple style, with
nothing more than they needed for everyday wants. It gave Mary great
pleasure in again being able to prepare her father's meals, and to look
after his comforts in every way; and together they led a life of quiet
happiness. The good friends with whom they lived had a large garden
attached to the house, but as the farmer and his wife had their time
too much taken up in the field to give much care to the garden, it was
of little or no use to them. James saw that it could be made a
profitable source of income by devoting it to the growing of flowers
and fruit, and when he proposed to put this plan into execution the
farmer's consent was willingly granted.
During the autumn time, James had made his preparations, and when the
warmth of spring had melted the winter snows, he began his work,
assisted by Mary; and together they laboured from morning to night. The
garden was divided into beds planted with all sorts of vegetables and
flowers, and bordered with gravel walks. The old man was anxious to see
the completion of his idea, and allowed neither himself nor his
daughter rest until he had stocked the garden with their favourite
flowers, rose trees, tulip and lily roots, and various kinds of
shrubbery.
Mary made a special study of cultivating some rare flowers, among which
were some which had never before been seen in this part of the country.
When the summer came, the garden showed such a burst of verdure and
blossom, that the valley, which was overshadowed by dark trees, now
assumed quite a smiling appearance. An orchard belonging to the farmer,
which had also been taken in hand by James, soon bore evidence to his
gardening skill in the shape of an abundant harvest of fruit. Indeed,
it seemed as if the blessing of God was upon everything that James
undertook.
Settled in a comfortable home, and occupied in his favourite calling,
the old gardener began to forget the troubles of the past, and to
regain the cheerful humour which had made his conversation such a
delight in the past. Once more he began to reflect upon the lessons
which the flowers taught, and day by day he taught to Mary some new
lesson which he had learned from them.
One day a woman from the neighbouring village came to buy some flax
from the farmer, and brought her little boy with her. While she was
occupied in bargaining for the flax, her little child, finding the
garden-gate open, had gone in and begun to plunder a full-blown rose
bush, with the result that he scratched himself terribly with the sharp
thorns. His mother and the farmer's wife, as well as James and his
daughter, hearing his screams of pain, ran to him. The child, with his
little hands all covered with blood, cried out against the naughty rose
bush for having attracted him by its pretty flowers and then cruelly
torn his hands.
The occasion was seized by James for drawing a lesson. "It is sometimes
thus with us older children also," he said to Mary. "Like this rose
tree, every pleasure in life has its thorns. We run towards them, and
would fain seize them with both hands. Some are led away by a taste for
the dance and theatre, others by a taste for strong drink, or still
more shameful vices. But the thorns make themselves felt by and by, and
then there comes lament for wasted youth, and a distaste for the
pleasures once so eagerly sought. Do not let us be foolishly dazzled by
the beauty of the world. The chief end which man has to care for is the
saving of his soul, and it is folly to give ourselves up to the
enjoyment of passion. Our unceasing effort should be to use all
diligence to gain eternal life."
One day James was employed in placing young plants in a part of the
garden, while Mary was weeding at a little distance from him. "This
double labour, my child," said her father, "represents what should be
the occupation of our life. Our heart is a garden which the good God
has given to us to cultivate. It is necessary that we should constantly
apply ourselves to cultivate the good and to extract the evil, which is
too apt to take root. That we may fulfil faithfully these two duties,
let us implore God's assistance and blessing, which makes the sun to
shine out and the rain to fall, the plants to grow, and the fruit to
ripen. Then will our hearts be delightful gardens. We shall then have
heaven within ourselves." In this way the old man and his daughter
passed through life, active and industrious in their calling, and
mingling innocent pleasures and instructive conversation with their
daily pursuits.
Three years passed swiftly away, and the happy days they had spent at
Pine Cottage had almost blotted out the memory of their past
misfortunes. It was now autumn time, and the chrysanthemums, the last
ornaments of the garden, were glorious in red and yellow flowers. The
leaves of the trees had become of varied tints, and everything showed
that the garden was preparing for the winter's repose. James had lately
begun to feel his strength failing, and the thought of his daughter's
future gave him considerable uneasiness. He concealed his feelings from
her for fear of distressing her, but Mary observed that her father's
remarks upon the flowers were now mostly of a melancholy kind. One day
she observed a rose-bud which had never blossomed. In attempting to
gather it the leaves of the flower fell off in her hand. "It is the
same with men," said her father, who had been watching her. "In youth
we resemble the rose newly opened, but our life fades like the rose.
Almost before it is matured, it passes away. Do not pride yourself, my
dear child, upon the beauty of the body. It is vain and fragile. Aim
rather at beauty of soul and true piety, which will never wither."
One day towards evening time the old man climbed a ladder to pluck some
apples, while Mary stood below with a basket to hold them.
"How cold," said James, "this autumn wind is as it whistles over the
stubble fields and plays with the yellow leaves and my white hairs. I
am in my autumn, my dear child, as you will also be some day. Try to
grow like this excellent apple tree, which produces beautiful fruit and
in great abundance. Try to please the Master of the great garden which
is called the world."
On another day Mary was sowing seed for the following spring. "The day
will come," said her father, "when we shall be put in the ground, as
you are putting these seeds. But let us console ourselves, my dear
Mary. As soon as the corn is enfolded in the earth, it is animated. It
springs from the earth in the form of a beautiful flower, and rises
thus triumphantly from the place where it was buried. So also shall we
rise one day from our tombs with splendour and magnificence. When you
follow me to the tomb, my dear child, do not mourn for me, but think of
the future. In the flowers which you will plant on my grave, try to see
the image of the resurrection and immortal life."