The Curtains.
“THE girls will have plenty to do in making the curtains for the
Tabernacle itself,” observed Lucius, who, while his mother and sisters
had been conversing, had been engaged in looking over the description
in the book of Exodus. “Why, there are four distinct sets of curtains!
First, the undermost, ten curtains of fine-twined linen, with blue,
and purple, and scarlet, and cherubims of cunning—that must mean
skilful—work upon them!”
“How splendid that must be!” exclaimed Elsie.
“Then a covering of goats’-hair curtains above these fine embroidered
ones,” continued Lucius; “then a third of rams’-skins dyed red; and
then, to complete the whole, a covering of badgers’-skin curtains the
outermost of all.”
The four young workwomen were somewhat startled at the difficulties
which their brother’s words had raised in their minds. Dora gave a
voice to the thoughts of her sisters when she said, with a look of
disappointment, “It will be hard to get rams’-skins dyed red, but I do
not know where goats’-hair can be bought in England; and as for the
badgers’-skins, I am afraid that it will be quite impossible even for
mamma to find such a thing, unless it be in the British Museum.”
“So we must give up making the Tabernacle,” said Amy, with a sigh.
“Nay, nay,” cried their smiling mother, “we must not be so readily
discouraged. Learned men tell us that the Hebrew word translated into
‘badgers’-skins’ in our Bible is one of uncertain meaning, which some
think denotes a blue color, and which, if intended for a skin at all,
is not likely to have been that of a badger. Blue merino for the outer
covering, red Turkey-cloth instead of rams’-skins, and mohair curtains
instead of goats’-hair, will do, I think, for our model; as well as
the pasteboard, wire, and gold and silver thread, which must represent
metal and wood.”
“Yes,” said Lucius, quickly, “they will do a great deal better than
the real materials; for if we could manage to get rams’-skins or
badgers’-skins to cut up, such curtains would be a great deal too thick
and heavy for a little model like ours. Why, our Tabernacle will be
only fifteen inches long by five inches in breadth.”
All the grave little faces brightened up with smiles at this way of
getting over what had seemed a very great difficulty. Elsie looked
especially pleased. Pressing close to her mother, and laying her little
hand on Mrs. Temple’s arm in a coaxing way, she cried, “Oh, mamma,
don’t you think that I could make one set of the curtains? You know
that I can hem and run a seam, and don’t make _very_ large stitches.
Might I not try, dear mamma? I should like to help to make the
Tabernacle.”
It would have been difficult to the mother to have resisted that
pleading young face, even had Elsie made a less reasonable request.
“I cannot see why these little fingers should not manage the red
Turkey-cloth which will stand for the rams’-skins,” replied Mrs.
Temple, stroking the hand of her child; “the outermost covering of all
will, of course, need finer stitching, and one of the twins will take
that and the mohair besides. To make both these sets of curtains will
take far less time, and require less skill, than must be given to the
embroidery on linen in blue, scarlet, and purple, which will adorn the
inner walls and ceilings of our little model.”
“Do, do let me have the embroidery, it is just the work which I delight
in,” cried Dora; and she might have added, “excel in,” for she was
remarkably clever in making things requiring fancy and skill.
Agnes, her twin, flushed very red, not merely from the straining
of the cough which had frequently distressed her, but from jealous
emotion. Agnes had not a lowly heart, and in her heart angry feelings
were rising at her sister’s asking that the finest and most ornamental
portion of the work should be given to her.
“Of course mamma will not let you have the beautiful embroidery to
do, Dora, and leave the plain mohair and merino to me, her _eldest_
daughter!” exclaimed Agnes, laying a proud stress on the word
_eldest_, though, there was but an hour’s difference between the ages
of the twins.
“Why, Agnes, what nonsense that is!” cried Lucius, bluntly; “you know,
as well as I do, that your clumsy fingers can’t so much as hem a silk
handkerchief neatly, and how would they manage embroidery in purple,
scarlet, and blue? Your bad work would spoil the whole thing.”
“Don’t you meddle; you don’t know anything about work!” exclaimed
Agnes, in a loud, angry tone, which brought on another severe fit of
coughing and whooping.
Mrs. Temple was grieved at the ill-temper shown by her eldest daughter,
and all the more so as Agnes was in so suffering a state as to make
it difficult for a mother to reprove her as she would have done had
the girl been in health. The lady had to wait for some time before the
cough was quieted enough for her gentle voice to be heard, though Amy
had quickly brought a glass of water to help in stopping that cough.
When Agnes could breathe freely again, the mother thus addressed her
family circle:—
“I should be vexed indeed, my children, if what I proposed as a
pleasant and profitable occupation for you all, should become a cause
of strife, an occasion for foolish pride and contention. The Tabernacle
was in itself a holy thing, made so by the special appointment and
presence of the Lord. I would wish the making of its model to be a kind
of holy employment, one never to be marred by jealousy and pride. The
profits of your labor, if there be any, you mean to devote to helping
the poor; therefore I hope that we may consider the work as an offering
to the Lord—a very small offering, it is true, but still one which He
may deign to accept, if it be made in a lowly, loving spirit; but if
selfish, worldly feelings creep in, then good works themselves become
evil. The Israelites were expressly forbidden to offer any creature in
which there was a blemish or fault, and our offerings are certainly
blemished and spoilt if we mix with them jealousy and pride.”
Agnes bit her lip and knitted her brow. She was not without both good
sense and good feeling, but she had not yet obtained the mastery over
her jealous temper.
“I do not see why Dora should be favored above me,” she murmured.
“Dora is not favored above you,” replied the mother, gravely. “The
simple state of the case is this—different talents are given to
different persons. You have a good memory, Dora a skilful hand. Were
the work in question to be the repeating of a chapter by heart, Dora
would never expect to be the one chosen to repeat it. Why should pride
make you refuse to own that there are some things in which a younger
sister may excel you?”
Agnes hesitated, and glanced at her mother. The girl’s brow was a
little clouded still, and yet there were signs that her pride was
giving way.
“I leave the decision to your own good sense and feeling, my love,”
said Mrs. Temple. “Judge yourself whether, if your desire be to make a
really beautiful model worthy of the good object to which we devote
it, it would be better to place the embroidery part in Dora’s hands or
your own.”
“Let Dora do it,” said Agnes, with a little effort, her eyes filling
with tears, for it was hard to her, as it is to most of us, to wrestle
down struggling pride.
Mrs. Temple smiled kindly upon her daughter. “One of the most precious
lessons which we can learn,” said the mother, “is, in obedience to the
command of our Lord, to be willing to be last of all, and servant of
all. The sacrifice of our pride and self-will is more pleasing to our
Maker than the most costly gifts can be. It is worthy of notice that it
was not the _outer_ covering of the Tabernacle, that part which would
be seen from every quarter of Israel’s camp, that was most beauteous
and precious. The richest curtains were those seen far less often,
those that had the lowest place in the building. So our Maker cares far
more for what is _within_ than for what is _without_, and there is no
ornament so fair in His eyes as that of a meek and quiet spirit.”
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