Part 6

WE keep our hearts shut up, as it were, in a safe, or strong box, many doors deep. The first door opens from the surface, or outside; it is like the door to the vestibule of our house, and is open to all comers. The second door admits to the halls and parlors, as we might say, and is open to our acquaintances generally. The third door gives access to the living-room of the family, wherever that may be; it is opened to relatives and intimate friends. The door next to this admits into the chambers where only the nearest and dearest may come.

But beyond all these is another door, to which none in the house may be likened; in this room are things which may not be shown—our most secret thoughts and desires, the best and the noblest as well as the lowest and the basest. The door to this room is never opened to human eyes. And yet only the eye that can see within it discerns our true character, for here, hidden away from mortal sight, dwells the real man; and as the outward husk and shell are stripped off to come at the kernel and the grain, so all the rest of us will be torn away and cast aside when the final estimate comes to be made.

THE HOUSE-BUILDER.

A CERTAIN man who owned a lot of ground determined to build a house on it. There was a good quarry in his lot, but to get the stone out of it required hard labor. This, however, was all that was needed; so he went to work with a good will, and made a prosperous beginning. First he laid the foundation, and then several courses of the superstructure. But the toil was severe, the wall progressed slowly, and the work grew wearisome.

One day, while digging in his quarry, he discovered a new vein of stone, which ran over his neighbor’s line, and he picked up a block of it that came easily into his hand. He found that it was more easily worked than his own, and that he could almost save the labor of squaring, and dressing, by using it. The next day he took out some more, until he had taken enough to lay one course of it all around the walls of his house. But this carried him so far into his neighbor’s premises that he dared go no farther; he filled up the opening he had made with rubbish and earth, and went to work again on his own land. Months, and even years, passed by; but he worked on faithfully, day by day, and at last his house was finished. Then he furnished it comfortably, and, taking his family with him, moved into it, to stay there for the rest of his days.

Now, while his hands were busy and his mind engaged in building, he never once thought of the course of stone that he had taken from his neighbor. But after all was done, and his long task completed, as he stood one day in front of his house, admiring it, he observed that course. It had settled into a different color from the rest—not so different as to be noticed by others, but enough to make it evident to himself. He found the next day, as he passed through his garden, that he saw it again; and after that it seemed to stand out conspicuously whenever his face was turned toward his home. This began to annoy him. It was only one course, to be sure; there were full fifty courses in the wall between the roof and the foundation. Why did this single one attract his attention before all the rest? His conscience answered the question. It did not rightly belong there; it never had been, and was not now, his own.

A year passed from the time when his house was finished, then another and another. It was astonishing how quickly they sped. Yet there was not a day in all those years that his eye did not, some time between the rising and the setting of the sun, rest on that course of stone.

At length old age crept on. He had time now to sit still and think of the past, and he did not sleep at night as he used to. But both by day and by night the course of stone was in his mind. Most willingly he would have gone to his neighbor and paid him ten times its value (for he had prospered and grown rich), but in doing so he would have confessed himself a thief and disgraced his family for ever; he could not do this. Or gladly he would have torn it from his walls and placed it back in the quarry from whence he had taken it, but that was impossible. So he lived on, brooding over it until it drove all better and happier thoughts out of his mind, and at last he died, bowed down and crushed, as it were, under its weight.

There is an interest account, so to speak, running on against every amount, be it small or great, that we have ever gotten dishonestly. And the worst of it is that if it be not settled now we shall find it still standing and accumulating in the long hereafter.

PIGEONS.

SOME pigeons that had their home over a rich man’s stable came to visit a pair that lived near by in a poor man’s barn.

“You’d better come and live with us,” said the rich man’s birds, “for we not only have a beautiful new house with partitions inside for our nests, but we’re fed every day on the best that the farm affords.”

“Who feeds you?” asked the poor man’s birds.

“Our master’s servants, of course.”

“But _our_ master,” replied the others, “feeds us himself. We thank you for your invitation, but would rather stay where we are.”

Summer passed and cold weather came on, and one snowy morning the pigeons at the barn were astonished to see their grand neighbors alight near them again.

“We are of the same mind still,” the poor pigeons cried, “and can only repeat what you have heard already. We will not go with you.”

“Ah!” said their rich neighbors, “we have not come, this time, to ask it, but rather to ask whether you haven’t got a corner here in the barn where we may come and stay; for our master has gone away for the winter, and his servants have forgotten us, and we’re likely to starve in our beautiful home.”

* * * * *

The nearer we get to the source of the good that we need, the more sure we may be of a continued supply of it.

THE CLOCK ON THE DESK.

A LITTLE round nickel-plated clock stood on a certain man’s desk measuring out his hours of work. One day, after he had been wrestling with his thoughts and vainly endeavoring to order them to his bidding, he leaned back in his chair, and, setting them at liberty, let them wander whither they would.

In a few moments, and while he still remained in this idle posture, he was startled at hearing from his clock, instead of its accustomed “Tick-a-tick!” the words, “Keep at it! Keep at it!”

“Do you mean those words for me?” cried the man, and then, before the clock had time to answer, continued: “It is because I am resting a moment you presume thus to rebuke me. Must a man be for ever at work? May he not take time even to look round him, or to yawn or wait for a new idea? Your words are insulting.”

Here, being out of breath, he paused long enough for the clock to reply:

“Indeed, sir, I said nothing. You heard only my heart beat ‘tick-a-tick, tick-a-tick,’ as usual. When this stops, you know as well as I that my life will be ended and my work for you done.”

“Pardon me,” said the man. “Because I deserved a rebuke, I was so quick at finding one. Though you did not utter the words, they fit my case well. I would that you ever might go on repeating them.”

* * * * *

When we feel conscious of deserving reproof, its arrow lights upon us from many a bow that was drawn only at a venture.

THE WATCH-DOG.

A MASTIFF that had received a severe kick from his master thus soliloquized as he walked slowly and sadly toward his kennel:

“I guard his house by day and by night, securing for him undisturbed rest, but hardly ever getting for myself so much as an hour’s sleep at a time. He never comes near me that I do not show my pleasure by a wag of my tail; and when he speaks to me and pats me on the head, my delight is so great that I can hardly control myself, and behave as a sensible dog ought to behave. And yet, because I happened, by accident, to be in his way, he has thus ill-used and disgraced me! What a shame, when he has the power so easily to make me happy that he abuses it in making me miserable!”

By this time the mastiff had reached his kennel, at the farther end of the garden; but, as he was about entering it, one of his own pups, that had been playing on the grass with a little terrier from the next house, caught sight of him. In a moment both the pup and the terrier let their tails drop and slunk out of sight. The old dog watched them as they disappeared, and after pausing a moment said to himself:

“This ought not to be. The harsh treatment that I have received makes me examine my treatment of others. I am afraid I’m as bad as my master. It is because they are growled at and snarled at so often these pups run away as if their innocent gambols might cost them a cudgelling. My master did not mean it; yet when he kicked me, he did me a favor, for so have my own faults been brought to my view, and from this very hour I mean to correct them.”

* * * * *

Before we judge those who have the rule over us, let us stop and ask, “What would they say whom we rule over?”

THE OPENED EYES.

A BLIND man whose disposition had been soured by his misfortune refused to credit anything his friends said about the objects that surrounded him. He would not believe that the flowers he smelt were clothed in brilliant colors, or that the birds he heard singing were covered with beautiful feathers. He would not believe there was a regular succession of night and day and light and darkness. He could give no reason for his obstinate unbelief except that he could not imagine any of these things; which, of course, was not to be expected of him, since he had always been blind.

It happened that after a time the man recovered his sight; whatever had obscured it seemed slowly to pass away. At first only a faint glimmer of light was visible. This increased from day to day, until at length the last film disappeared from before his eyes, and he looked out upon the world and saw everything clearly.

Then he was like a person struck dumb and unable to speak with wonder and astonishment. At this his friends followed him as he walked forth unaided, and began to explain to him what he saw.

“Yonder,” they said, pointing up to the sky, “is the great sun that we have so often told you about, though you would not believe us. But for it your eyes would be opened in vain; you would still be in utter darkness.”

But the man, suddenly regaining his speech, cried out:

“Ah, my friends! I do not need to be told this now. Whereas all your arguments failed to convince me while I was blind, now, though you and all the world should tell me it was not the sun, I would know differently. For I see him myself. He has shined into my eyes—yes, and into my heart; and he is his own best argument. How can I remain in ignorance of him while I am walking in his light?”

* * * * *

One clear view of the truth for ourselves is more convincing than all that others can say to us in its favor.

THE LANTERN-PEOPLE.

I HAD been thinking how strange a thing it was that I disliked so many people and liked so few. Only to look at some persons seemed enough to put me out of humor and make me feel like saying cross things. But there were others, though not near so many of them, whom I loved to meet and whom I could hardly be cross to if I tried. I had been thinking about this, when I fell asleep and had a dream.

I thought I was carried away to a strange country where it was always dark. No morning ever came there, the sun never shone, and there were no stars in the sky. Yet people were living there, and I could see them walking about. But they were very strange people, such as I had never seen before, nor heard of, nor even thought of. I called them the lantern-people because they looked like great lanterns with lights inside of them that shone through.

And they were of a very strange shape, for they had ever so many sides, and on every side was a picture. Some were pretty and some were ugly pictures. Every person I saw had both pretty and ugly sides.

Of course I was very much surprised and stood looking a long while, for the people could not see me though I could see them and was close to them. On some of their sides were pictures of snakes, wasps, and pigs; on other sides, of doves, lambs, flowers, and such beautiful things.

And now I want to tell you a very curious thing about the way the people acted when they met each other. I noticed, when a man met another in the street, he would quickly turn around one of his sides, so that the man he met could see it, and nothing else—that is, nothing but the picture that was on the side turned toward him.

While I stood watching I saw a man coming along who turned almost the whole way around, so as to bring the picture of a dog in front, where it could be most plainly seen. It was a bull-dog—one of the sort that shows its teeth—very ugly and cross-looking. I could not understand why he should take so much trouble to turn out that ugly picture (for he had prettier ones that I could see) until I saw another man coming toward him, who turned out a picture uglier still. It was of a bear.

As soon as they came close up to one another the pictures seemed to be alive. I was astonished to see their eyes move and their mouths open and shut, seeming to snap at one another. And all I could hear were barkings and growlings until they were gone, the dog and the bear trying to bite each other as far as I could see them.

Next came a little girl. Happening to look behind her, she saw another little girl following her. At once she turned round one of her sides, that had the picture of a wasp on it. But the little girl who was coming after her turned out the picture of a beautiful butterfly. As soon as they met, the wasp began to buzz and dart out its sharp sting, and I saw the butterfly fluttering and fluttering, till presently it was scared away and the picture of a great spider came in its place. Then the spider seemed to dart at the wasp, and the wasp tried to sting the spider; and the little girls went off quarrelling as fiercely as the two men had done.

Next I saw a young woman. She was prettier than any of the lantern-people I had yet seen. I saw her coming from a long way down the street, and she never turned her sides, no matter whom she met, but always kept one picture in front, and that was of a dove. It had a ring of black around its neck and an olive-leaf in its mouth. I thought to myself:

“What a beautiful picture!”

Just then another young woman came up and pushed rudely against her, and I saw this rude one turn out the picture of a snake. And the snake hissed and darted out its forked tongue, but the dove would not go. All it did was to coo softly and flutter with its wings and hold out the olive-leaf.

When the snake found that it could not frighten the dove away, it began to creep off itself, as if ashamed; and what was my surprise to see, presently, another dove come in its place! And the doves began to coo to each other, and to look pleased and happy, and the two young women took hold of each other’s hands; then they put their arms around each other’s neck and kissed each other and so they passed happily by.

After this I walked about the streets looking at the strange people I met there, and, seeing a crowd of them going into a building that had wide-open doors, I went in with them. I found it was a church. In a little while the minister stood up in the pulpit and began to preach to them about being kind to one another and loving one another, very much as the ministers do that we hear. I was up in the gallery, and could see all the people as they sat listening to him. As he went on in his sermon I saw how they turned out their good sides, one by one, some quickly, some more slowly, until hardly an ugly side could be seen in the whole congregation.

But no sooner was the sermon finished, and the blessing pronounced, than there was a shifting round of sides again, some doing this before they left their pews, some as they passed down the aisle, some as they walked down the church-steps; so that most of them came out pretty much the same as they went in.

After leaving the church, I passed before a large private house where a servant-man was standing at the door. As he could not see me I stole by him softly and went into the house. I found everything very elegant there. Beautiful furniture filled the rooms, and costly paintings covered the walls. But I soon learned that these things were not for use or enjoyment, but only for show.

The family was a fashionable one that had a great deal of company and visited a great deal. The mother, a tall, fine-looking woman, was evidently the ruling spirit among them. Whenever she and her daughters were getting ready for a walk, or a drive, she turned out the picture of a large peacock, and her daughters turned out little peacocks. I followed them into the street, and as they walked along could see the people bowing and smiling to them; but as soon as they had passed, these same people made fun of them.

In a second house that I entered the family was seated at dinner. Though not so fine a house as the first, nor so expensively furnished, I could tell at a glance it was a far happier home. I looked round to see if I could discover the cause of this difference, and here again my eye rested on the mother, who sat at the head of the table; but what a contrast with the other! The dove was on her breast, and a brood of doves on the breasts of the little ones who were gathered around her. There was cheerful, innocent talk in which all took part, without a word of unkindness for any one, present or absent.

I stayed about this house for the rest of the day—it was a pleasant place to be in—and when, toward its close, the mother stole apart to a little room alone, I peeped in and saw there a chair, and a table with an open book on it, and a kneeling-cushion, well used, on the floor beside the table. Then I said to myself:

“Perhaps here is the secret of the difference between this and the more elegant home.”

I cannot close this account of what I saw while I was in that strange country without telling of a difference that I noticed between the old and the young people there. The young were constantly changing their sides; the old did not change them nearly so often. It appeared that if they had turned out their ugly sides for the most part during their former lives, they lost the power, as they grew old, to draw them back again. On the other hand, if they had struggled against the bad and kept out the good, the good became fixed there.

My dream seemed to last a long time, and I visited a great many places and saw a great many persons that I have not told about here. But this I noticed everywhere I went—that those who kept out their good sides had the best time of it. They were contented and cheerful themselves, and helped to make others so. The doves, as we have read, brought out other doves, and the flowers brought out other flowers. Whoever turned out these saw them turned out by other people also. And so, with a pleasant prospect without and a kindly spirit within, the good-sided people experienced a happiness which the ugly-sided people never knew.

GRAND RELATIONS.

A BLACKBIRD that wanted to impress on his neighbor the wren a proper sense of his great importance took occasion every now and then to remark that he was related to still larger birds.

“My cousin the crow,” he would say, “did so and so,” or “invited me to his nest at such a time.”

After hearing this over and over again, the wren answered one day,

“When I used to look at you alone and by yourself, you appeared as a very large bird in my eyes; but since I’ve got to contrasting you with the crow, you seem to have grown smaller even than myself.”

* * * * *

Better be satisfied with our own significance than seek to array ourselves in the consequence of other people.

FAIR AND FOUL WEATHER.

A SHOWER having come up suddenly while the chickens were scattered over the barnyard, they ran from every direction to the chicken-house and disappeared, one by one, through a hole near the ground that had been left open for them to enter.

A young cock, however, that happened to be in an adjoining field, took refuge under a tree, where he straightened himself up, letting his tail droop, so that the water would trickle off from it. But when he found that the shower did not pass over, as he expected, he too took to his heels and joined the rest under shelter. And there they all stood, chickens, ducks, and guinea-fowls, dolefully watching the rain.

After waiting for a time, and finding it likely to continue, the cock, shaking out his feathers, said:

“I’m going out to hunt for my dinner.”

“What! in such a pour as this?” exclaimed an old hen.

“And what would you have us do?” replied the cock. “We cannot carry umbrellas, like our master and mistress. And, for all we know, it may rain the rest of the week.” So saying, he walked boldly out into the shower.

Now, the wet having brought the worms to the surface, he soon picked up a good meal; which the others descrying, they quickly came after him, until the whole flock was scratching about the barnyard, quite contented notwithstanding the rain. Seeing this, the rooster flew up on a fence and crowed. Then, looking slyly at the old hen that had opposed him, he said:

“Which is best—to work only in fair weather, or to keep on scratching whether it rain or shine?”

* * * * *

He will gather most in the end who does not easily give way to discouragement when success is hard to attain.

WRECKAGE.

TWO men were walking along the sea-beach together. The sand, as far as the eye could reach, was swept clean and smooth by the falling tide, but here and there at intervals lay fragments of wrecked vessels, some made of heavy timber, some of lighter weight. Now, the men, who were both of them well on in years, lived in a port near by on that same coast, and as they walked they recognized some of these wrecks.

“I remember the night when this came ashore,” said one, stopping before a huge piece of keel half buried in the sand. “She was a fine ship, well manned, and the bar on which she struck was laid down plainly on the chart; but her master thought he could come close in, and yet just miss it. But the current caught him, and he was lost.”

Then, stopping before another fragment:

“And I recollect this one too: she was a stanch bark, and I saw her heaving up her anchor on a fine morning with the promise of a prosperous voyage; but she tried to go out without a pilot, and she too came ashore. Ah, my friend!” the speaker continued. “As I look up and down this coast, and see so many wrecks whose history I know, a gloom settles over me that makes life seem, as I look back on it, more like a time of clouds and storms than of pleasant, sunny weather.”

“There are wrecks enough to sadden us, that is true,” replied the other; “but do not let us forget the good ships we have known that sailed the seas for many a long year, and at last came back to lay their old bones down in quiet waters on the flats behind our harbor. Yes, and many another is still ploughing the deep, to return safe in due time, bringing joyful crews and rich cargoes with them.”