LET us see what Dr. Akers is attempting to accomplish: It can be stated in one sentence: He is laboring to prove that God took away the Paradisaical Sabbath from the Hebrews, and that he gave them a ceremonial sabbath in its place.
And what makes him anxious to do this? Simply that he may show that the so-called Christian Sabbath is the day ordained by God in Eden. If he can do this, then he vindicates the prevailing first-day observance. If he fails to do it, then that observance has no foundation in divine authority. What must Dr. Akers establish in order to prove his alleged change of the Sabbath in Egypt?
1. That God gave up his ancient Sabbath to desecration by his chosen people for the whole period of their separate existence!
2. That God gave Israel a new week by joining the seventh day of the true week to the first six of another of his weeks; which kind of week has come down to us, with God's seventh day for its first day!
3. That the first of this new order of weeks in Egypt had only six days in it!
4. That God then made a new Sabbath out of the sixth day of the week!
5. That he then made the sixth day of the week into the seventh!
6. That the Sabbath which God caused Israel to observe from Moses to Christ was only a ceremonial institution, though he took the true one from them!
7. That the first of these new weekly Sabbaths was observed by the children of Israel in marching from Rameses to Succoth, with their unleavened dough in their kneading troughs bound up in their clothes upon their shoulders!
But how does Dr. Akers establish this change of the Sabbath from Sunday, the seventh day, to Saturday, the sixth?
1. By the statement that a new calendar was given to the Hebrews whereby the seventh month of the old year as reckoned from creation became the first month of the new Jewish year. And such a change taking place in the reckoning of the year by divine authority, indicates that a similar change in the reckoning of the week is not unlikely.
But to this it should be answered: (1) God did not discontinue the ancient year beginning with Tisri, or October, and marking the years from creation. He established what is distinguished as the sacred year, which was reckoned from Abib, or April, the seventh month of the ancient or civil year. That the year, beginning and ending in the fall, was not discontinued by the establishment of the sacred year which began and ended in the spring, is plain from Ex. 23:16; Lev. 25:1-9; Deut. 31:10.
(2) Thus instead of one kind of year beginning in the fall and reckoned from creation, they had thenceforward two, in that a year was also given them beginning in the spring, and designed to establish and to preserve the reckoning of the years of their national history.197These two years are distinguished by the terms civil and sacred; and one began with the seventh month of the other.
(3) To establish this new year, they did not have to mutilate, or disarrange, or discontinue, the existing civil year, as Dr. Akers makes them do in the case of the week.
(4) The establishment of the sacred year was by the plainest direction from God, and did not have to be inferred by Israel, nor does it need to be inferred by ourselves; which is more than can be said of his alleged change of the Sabbath.
There is nothing, therefore, in the new calendar of the year, that affords the slightest pretext for asserting that God changed the Sabbath, and re-arranged the week.
2. Dr. Akers' second proof that the Sabbath was changed from the sixteenth day of the first month to the fifteenth, is found in this, that whereas the sixteenth of the first month was the true seventh day, God then established the fifteenth day of the month to be the Sabbath of the Hebrews, so shaping the year that that day should always come on Saturday.
But how does he prove all this? Certainly, not by any direct statement of the Bible as in the establishment of a second kind of year. If such declaration were found in the Bible, we should at once accept it as closing the controversy. But the Bible does not state any such thing. It is simply an assertion of Dr. Akers' which rests upon his ability to prove the two points already named: (1) That the original Sabbath came upon the sixteenth day of Abib; (2) That God ordained the day of the exodus, Abib 15, to be the Jewish Sabbath. Observe these two points carefully. The whole argument of Dr. Akers rests upon their truthfulness. And what is not to be forgotten, if he proves the truth of one of them, it does not establish the change of the Sabbath in Egypt unless he can also prove the truth of the other. This being too plain to be denied, it follows that a failure to sustain the assertion that the original Sabbath came upon Abib 16, makes his second proposition, viz., that the Jewish Sabbath came upon Abib 15, even if it could be proved, of no account, so far as establishing a change of the Sabbath in Egypt.
The truth of his first proposition must be maintained, or the whole argument for a change of the Sabbath at the exodus falls to the ground. And now what is the evidence by which he proves his first proposition? Simply, he counts the days from creation to the exodus, and though he does not agree with the Hebrew chronology into 1386 years, and though he does not agree with any other writer that we have examined, who uses the Septuagint chronology, and though he confesses that the Septuagint numbers have been sometimes altered, and need correcting (of which, by the way, we have a notable instance in their making Methuselah survive the flood fourteen years!), yet he is able to give the exact age of the world even to a day! So that by this exact count he proves that the day kept by the Hebrews came one day too soon to be the original seventh day!
But the reader will say, perhaps, that Dr. Akers uses the deductions of astronomical science to prove that Sunday is the true seventh day, and certainly we ought to respect the science of astronomy. To this, it is sufficient to reply that Dr. Akers has not established his reckoning upon any such basis of astronomical calculation as to command the respect of the scientific world. His book was published in 1855, but we have no evidence that the scientific men of this age accept it as established by any substantial facts in astronomy. Indeed, the president of the University of Michigan, whose words we have already given, like Dr. Akers, a Methodist clergyman, writing in 1866, pronounces the whole effort a complete failure! And yet every one of these scientific men are in sympathy with the first-day Sabbath so far as they have any religious interests.
But even astronomy must have data from which to reckon, or upon which to base its calculations, or it is utterly powerless to establish chronological points. The testimony of all history shows Sunday to be the first day and Saturday the seventh. How, then, can astronomy prove that the first day of Genesis was Monday and the seventh day Sunday? Can that science determine the exact age of the world, and so enable us to count the days from the creation to the resurrection of Christ? No astronomer claims to do this. How, then, does Dr. A. prove that the seventh day of the week observed at the exodus is not the seventh day of Gen. 2:2, 3? How he establishes this will certainly interest the curious reader. His "fixed point in chronology" is the Sunday of Christ's resurrection. From this he reckons back to the day of God's rest in Gen. 2:2, 3, and finds it to be just 290,767 weeks, to a day! Thus proving, to his mind, that the seventh day of Gen. 2:2, 3, is the first day of Matt. 28:1.
But this is not all. Having reckoned back from Christ's resurrection to God's rest-day in Eden, and by that reckoning made it clear to his own mind that God's rest day was upon Sunday, he sets out from his new basis, the rest-day of God upon Sunday, and reckons forward to the exodus, and by that second count of days he determines that God's rest-day came that year upon Abib 16.
This is a roundabout journey. It begins with Christ's resurrection and counts the days backward to the creation week; and thence, forward to the day of the exodus. Now, Dr. A.'s theory falls to the ground unless he can do this so exactly as not to err to the extent of one day! Thus, according to his table on pages 34, 35, of his chronology, if he has erred one year either way in the age of the world at the exodus, then, on his own showing, the original Sabbath came upon Abib 15, the very day which he labors to prove was the weekly Sabbath of the Jews, which would prove that the Jews had the true seventh day.
But the rest-day of God, in Gen. 2:2, 3, Dr. A. proves to be Sunday by counting the days exactly from the day of Christ's resurrection back to it; and having thus proved God's seventh day to be Sunday, he takes that as a new basis, and counts forward to the exodus, making that to be Saturday, the day before the original Sabbath, or Sunday.
No other man but Dr. A. ever claimed to do such wonderful feats of reckoning; or if there was ever found such another, his computation was not the same as Dr. Akers'. J. N. A.
(To be Continued.)
The Closing Messages of the Gospel.
By R. F. Cottrell
NUMBER FIVE.
THE SECOND MESSAGE.—"And there followed another angel, saying, Babylon is fallen, is fallen, that great city, because she made all nations drink of the wine of the wrath of her fornication." Rev. 14:8.
The term, Babylon, comes from Babel, and signifies mixture, confusion. It originated from the fact that when the descendants of Noah attempted to build a tower whose top should reach to Heaven, God confounded their language so that they could not understand one another's speech, and thus put an end to their impious work, and they were scattered abroad in the earth.
In the book of Revelation this ancient city, with its significant name, is taken as a symbol to represent a church corrupted from the simplicity of the truth and filled with errors, darkness, and confusion of creeds. The term does not represent the non-professing world; but an apostasy from the truth and true worship of God. Babylon is a professor of religion. She is spoken of as a city, and also as a woman. As Zion, or Jerusalem, is used as a representative of the true church of God, so Babylon is used to represent a false and apostate church; and as the woman of Rev. 12 is the symbol of the church in her purity, so the woman of Chap. 17 is the symbol of a church that has become corrupt by unlawful intercourse with worldly governments. She should be the chaste spouse of the Lord, to whom she professes love and obedience as a wife to her husband; but by her alliance with earthly governments, looking to them for protection and support, she has become a harlot. She has committed lewdness with the kings of the earth, and the nations have become drunken with her wine, that is her false doctrines, so that the people are not prepared to listen to the solemn truths of the word of God.
Says the prophet, "Babylon hath been a golden cup in the Lord's hand, that made all the earth drunken; the nations have drunken of her wine; therefore the nations are mad." Jer. 51:7. Again, "We would have healed Babylon, but she is not healed: forsake her." Verse 9. The Heaven-sent message concerning the judgment and the coming of Christ would have healed Babylon, had it been received; but the people, being drunken with false doctrines, rejected it.
Babylon professes to be the true church, a city built for a habitation of God through the Spirit; but after her fall she becomes "the habitation of devils, and the hold of every foul spirit, and a cage of every unclean and hateful bird." Rev. 18:2. As a church she should be joined to Christ alone, looking to him for protection and support, as a wife looks to her husband; but instead of this, she has by worldly conformity and seeking the aid and protection of earthly rulers "committed fornication with the kings of the earth," and thus become a harlot. And by the aid of civil power thus obtained, she becomes the persecutor of the truly good, "drunken with the blood of the saints, and with the blood of the martyrs of Jesus." Rev. 17:6.
It will be admitted by Protestants that the Roman church with its papal hierarchy answers the description given of Babylon. That by the aid of emperors and kings she has been a persecutor, drunken with the blood of the martyrs; and is therefore entitled to the appellation of "the mother of harlots and abominations of the earth." But if she who professes to be "the mother church" is the mother of harlots, it follows of necessity that she has daughters bearing her character and guilty of the same great crimes. That the term does not apply to the Roman church alone is manifest from several considerations.
1. The meaning of the term, Babel, confusion, cannot so well apply to a single church, as to the confusion of the various and conflicting systems of a divided church.
2. If the Roman church be the mother of harlots, she certainly has daughters of this character.
3. "All nations have drunk" of the wine of Babylon. This wine must signify the false doctrines received from Rome's pagan ancestors and disseminated among all the nations; not only where the authority of the Roman church is acknowledged, but even where that authority is utterly repudiated; as where the Greek church or protestantism prevails.
4. The people of God are in Babylon till her plagues are imminent and her destruction is near; for they are called out of her, that they may escape those judgments. Now Protestants will be slow to admit that even a great portion of the people of God are now in the Roman church. But the people of God are in Babylon just before the wrath of God comes upon her, because that "her sins have reached unto heaven;" and they are called out that they "be not partakers of her sins," and "receive not of her plagues."
From such considerations we conclude that Babylon includes not only the mother church, but all who follow in her footsteps, teaching her false doctrines, and seeking the aid of civil power to enforce the doctrines and commands of men, when obtained always results in the oppression and persecution of those who dissent for conscience' sake. This subject will be better understood a little in the future, when it will be more clearly seen by all the good, that the churches have rejected the commandments of God, and are seeking civil legislation to enforce the precepts of men in their stead. Forsaking God and uniting with the State is the distinguished characteristic and crime of Babylon. Persecution is always the result.
After the announcement is made that Babylon is fallen, as in Rev. 14:8, her character and fallen condition becomes more apparent than before, and an angel of great power comes down, the earth is lightened with his glory, and he repeats the cry with emphasis, "Babylon is fallen; is fallen;" and adds that which has been recently more clearly developed as the result of her fall, that she has "become the habitation of devils, and the hold of every foul spirit, and a cage of every unclean and hateful bird." Rev. 18:1, 2. This will be made clear, when we come to refer to facts in the fulfillment.
That it may be seen that we are not alone in our view of what constitutes the Babylon of Revelation, we quote the declarations of a few others.
The Tennessee Baptist says: "This woman [Popery] is called the mother of harlots and abominations. Who are the daughters? The Lutheran, the Presbyterian and the Episcopalian churches are all branches of the [Roman] Catholic. Are not these demonstrated 'harlots and abominations' in the above passage. I so decide. I could not with the stake before me decide otherwise. Presbyterians and Episcopalians compose a part of Babylon. They hold the distinctive principles of Papacy in common with Papists."
Alexander Campbell says: "The worshiping establishments now in operation throughout Christendom, increased and cemented by their respective voluminous confessions of faith, and their ecclesiastical constitutions, are not churches of Jesus Christ, but the legitimate daughters of that mother of harlots—the church of Rome."
The Religious Encyclopedia, (Art. Anti-christ,) says: "Is Anti-christ confined to the church of Rome? The answer is readily returned in the affirmative by Protestants in general; and happy had it been for the world were that the case. But although we are fully warranted to consider that church as 'the mother of harlots,' the truth is that by whatever arguments we succeed in fixing that odious charge upon her, we shall by parity of reasoning be obliged to allow all other national churches to be her unchaste daughters; and for this very plain reason among others, because, in their very constitution and tendency, they are hostile to the nature of the kingdom of Christ." "Such national churches therefore, though they may be purged from many of the grosser evils of the Romish church, yet being constituted upon similar principles, . . . can only be allowed to differ from the Romish church, as a grain of arsenic differs from an ounce.
"The writer of the book of Revelation tells us he heard a voice from heaven saying, 'Come out of her my people, that ye partake not of her sins, and receive not of her plagues.' If such persons are to be found in the 'Mother of Harlots,' with much less hesitation may it be inferred that they are connected with her unchaste daughters, those national churches which are founded upon what are called Protestant principles."
Dr. John Cummings, of England, says: "If all visible ecclesiastical organizations—church of England, church of Scotland, church Independent, Wesleyan, and Baptist—are to be broken up in order to give place to a nobler, that man cannot make, &c., . . . let us think less of being Churchmen, or being Dissenters, Presbyterians, Episcopalians, or Baptists; and be more anxious to be what was first at Antioch, and shall be last on earth—Christians or followers of the Lord Jesus Christ. We have seen that great Babylon is to be broken up and destroyed. If this be the case, and it is to be consumed, what should it teach us? What course of conduct should we pursue? First, surely it is not our duty to support it. This is neither our duty, nor will it lengthen the existence of Babylon a single day. Nor, secondly, is it our duty to persecute it; that would be to take weapons from her armory as unchristian as her own: Then what is our duty? To call to all that are at this moment in the church of Rome, whether sprinkled by her baptismal waters, or imitating within another church her forms, her ceremonies, her pomp and her grandeur, to come out of her, lest partaking of her sins they receive also of her plagues."
—The End, p. 241. The following extracts are from the Commentary of the learned Jameison and Fausset of Scotland, and Brown of England.
"The whore is the apostate church, just as the woman, (chapter 12,) is the church while faithful." "It cannot be Pagan Rome, but Papal Rome, if a particular seat of error is meant, but I incline to think that the judgment (chapter 18:2) and the spiritual fornication (chapter 18:3) though finding their culmination in Rome, are not restricted to it, but comprises the whole apostate Church, Roman, Greek, and even Protestant, so far as it has been seduced from its first love to Christ."
We conclude that Babylon, in its broadest sense, comprises all that is false in religion. God is one. His moral requirements are always the same. Truth is a unity; it is always, in all its parts in perfect harmony with itself. But apostasy from God and truth has, in all ages, brought confusion—lords many, gods many, systems of religion many and conflicting. Jesus prayed that his disciples might be one. John 17. They were so at first, and we believe they may be again. But apostasy has brought confusion. Out of this God determines to bring his people. Babylon may be defined,—the universal worldly church. And every part of this church depends upon human laws and civil rules to sustain it. It always seeks, and must have, some Jeroboam the son of Nebat, or Jezebel the wife of Ahab, to enforce its claims.
The Responsibility of Unimproved Opportunity
WHAT better is the Christian, who gets no personal communion and help from his Father, than the heathen who has no God? If it be answered, better in knowledge and a possible access to God in need; it must be added, worse in the responsibility that comes from opportunity unimproved and known duty not done.
Over-Particular.
IN the beautiful village of D——, delightfully situated on the banks of the Ohio River, Mr. Henderson had purchased a pleasant home for his family, which consisted of his wife and their three—I suppose in true story style I ought to say “lovely”—children.
But the Hendersons had been boarding for several years in one of the Western cities, and the children, kept under constant restraint in their two or three rooms, were not as healthy or full of life and spirits as other children of their age, having the freedom and run of the whole house and garden in their own homes, usually are.
'Tis true Harry now and then had roguish mischief shining out of his eyes as if he could enjoy a real-boy's frolic, but poor little Mattie, his elder sister by three years, had been so repeatedly checked by her mother for the slightest misdemeanor, and was so constantly on the watch to shield Harry from any reproof that it gave her a peculiar old, quaint look. One would hardly imagine, seeing her quiet, sedate manner about the room arranging things, or when seated at her work, that she was but ten years old. And yet that little heart was naturally full of warmth and sunshine, and she would have been gleeful under different circumstances.
But Mrs. Henderson, her mother, was not one to enter into the pleasures of her children or call forth their affections. In the first place she had never been particularly fond of children, or understood their many little wants and ways.
To keep them neat and clean, and in their rooms as much as possible, away from troubling the other boarders, seemed all that was necessary. All this was well enough had she only made even their narrow quarters bright and home-like to her children. But strictly carrying out the maxim, “a place for every thing, and every thing in its place,” and not wishing her one parlor to be “littered up,” as she called it, with children's books and toys, she was—alas! the truth must be told—over-particular.
Mr. Henderson observing this, and seeing that his bright Harry and darling Mattie were fast losing their once frank, happy spirits and that even little Jennie, but three or four years old, was becoming less artless and child-like, as if afraid to sing or shout when pleased, like other children, attributed it all to their manner of living, and decided to purchase a pleasant home just out of the city, where they could have more freedom and fresh air.
Ardently attached to his family, and wishing to promote their happiness in every way, he had regretted that his limited means prevented his sooner carrying out this plan.
The past year having been a more successful one, he determined to take them all by surprise and present a home to his beloved wife on the anniversary of her birthday, which occurred the forepart of May—the very time to settle themselves in the country.
In purchasing “Woodbine Cottage,” as Mr. Henderson called it from the luxuriant woodbine clambering all over the front piazza, he considered the present and future comfort of all. For, like many a fond father, he was ever castle-building for his children. Harry was to be his partner and successor in business, Mattie was to become a beautiful young lady, should be highly educated, and perhaps—ah well, that was looking a little too far forward—marry some rich merchant or professional man. Winsome Jennie, who was still so young, he hoped would make home bright to her parents when they became aged. Thus the happy father thought and planned for his loved ones.
In planning for the house he concluded the furniture they had in the city would do well enough for their bedroom and sitting-room; but there should be handsome new furniture for his wife's parlor, while Harry and the girls must have pretty new sets of cottage furniture for their bedrooms. Then he arranged a play-room for them over the back building, where they could be as merry as they pleased on a rainy day without disturbing their mother.
It took some little time to carry out all these plans—repairing and altering the house, etc. But Mr. Henderson kept his secret, though his wife often wondered why he came home so much later than usual, and seemed so absorbed about something. On being questioned he would pleasantly evade too close inquiry, by saying,
“Oh, I have a little business that takes me out of the city occasionally after office hours, but I think I will get through with it before long.”
“Oh, papa,” exclaimed Harry, “won't you take me with you some day, for I am so tired of the city, and would so love to see the country!”
“Yes, do, dear papa.” echoed Mattie, “Harry would enjoy himself so much in seeing all the beautiful trees, the green grass, and the muley cows with their cunning little calves frisking about—and Oh, I can't begin to tell what all!”
“But, darling, why don't you speak for yourself; you seem capable of appreciating all these things?”
“Ah, but, papa! you know I am older than Harry,” said quaint little Mattie, “and you and mamma took me once in the country—named after. It was ever and ever so long ago,” she added, as if many years passed over her head, “but Harry has never been, or at least he was such a wee mite of a thing he didn't remember anything about it.”
Dear unselfish Mattie! she was but three years older than her brother Harry, and could only have been five or six years old at the time she visited her aunt, but ever since it had evidently been treasured up in her mind as a vision from fairy-land, and now the very mention of the word country made her long to have her darling brother see all she had seen, and often talked to him about.
Mr. Henderson, absorbed in business, had long since forgotten the incident which Mattie so treasured up; but, thus reminded of it, he recalled her wild delight, and thorough appreciation of all that was beautiful in nature, and saw how her mind and spirits had since been dwarfed. More than ever pleased that he now had it in his power to make them all happy, he cheerily said:—
“Well, be good children and I will take you all out in the country soon.”
“Me, too; me, too!” said little Jennie.
“Yes, darling, ‘me, too,’ shall go.”
“Away danced Jennie, clapping her hands with joy, such as she had not shown in many a day. The happy father giving them each a kiss then left for the office.
The mother, who had been down-stairs, coming up while they were still excitedly talking over their expected treat, exclaimed:—
“Why, children, what is all this noise about? Harry, just look at the way you have cluttered up the room with your books and things! Martha, I wish you would put this room in order; it is not fit for any one to come in.”
The weird, old look settled on poor Mattie's face as she went about picking up one thing after another and placing them all in precise order, as she knew her mother wished to have them.
Then Mattie and Harry started for school, leaving little Jennie to play quietly alone while Mrs. Henderson seated herself at her work.
Thus to check the children in their play, and have every thing “straightened up,” was no unusual event. But the mother, with too large a “bump of order,” as phrenologists would say, did not notice the effect it was having upon her children, or that the bright gladness of their young hearts was too early checked and might cause premature sadness, or, at the very least, less lightness of spirits than they ought to have.
Bright, sunny May, so eagerly looked forward to by Mr. Henderson, came at last. Every thing in and around the cottage was in perfect order. The fruit-trees were loaded with blossoms, shrubbery well trimmed, and some of it in full bloom, while the grass upon the lawn had that bright, fresh green of early Spring, which is so refreshing to look upon.
To please the children Mr. Henderson had purchased an additional acre joining the cottage grounds, and had a young calf placed in it for Harry, and a lamb for the girls to feed and pet themselves.
On the third day of May, Mrs. Henderson's birth-day, her husband said, quite early in the morning, “Mary, what say you to spending your birthday with the children out in the country?”
“Well, I suppose it would be a good plan, for the children have been whispering together about the country for the past month. But where can we go? Your sister Martha has given up the old homestead, and we have no intimate friends just now living in the country.”
“Oh, well, leave it all to me; only get yourself and the children after breakfast, and I will take you somewhere. Remember, it is your birthday treat, so you must not ask any questions.”
On hearing the good news the long-pent-up children were perfectly delighted, but it was almost sad to see how they repressed their joy, fearing to annoy their mother, and instead of tossing up their hats or other things around, as children might have done upon such a grand occasion, were carefully moving about not to misplace anything. It seemed to them as if breakfast time never would come—they ate at the second table, and had to wait until their parents and other boarders were through—but finally, with a well-filled basket of lunch, they were all snugly packed in a carriage, ready to start out of the city, Mrs. Henderson as much mystified as the children as to where they were going. After two hours' pleasant ride the carriage drove up before an elegant-looking cottage.
“Why, Mr. Henderson!” exclaimed his wife, “where are you taking us to? I don't know any one living here!”
“You certainly are intimately acquainted with the owner,” laughingly replied Mr. Henderson, “only step out of the carriage and I will prove it to you.”
With some hesitation, and with many words of caution to the children as to not making a noise, behaving polite, etc., she followed her husband the walk, leading Jennie by the hand. Harry and Mattie had already spied the calf and lamb eating young grass near the fence, and were ready to scream out with joy at their discovery, but cautioned by her mother, demurely followed her and Jennie. In the meantime Mr. Henderson had rung the bell and said something to the nice, matronly looking woman who attended the door. His wife and children were then ushered into the handsomely furnished parlor. Seeing the uncomfortable look of anxiety and suspense on his wife's countenance, he took her by the arm and led her to the large pier-glass, politely saying, “Allow me to introduce you to the owner of this house, if you do not already recognize her.”
“Why, Mr. Henderson! James, what do you mean?”
“Is it not your birthday? How do you like my present of ‘Woodbine Cottage?’”
Utterly amazed, she could not for some moments realize what her husband meant, then a happy smile settled on her face, and after warmly thanking her devoted husband, she turned to the wondering children and explained to them that it was their own, their very own home. Many a year afterward Mr. and Mrs. Henderson recalled their joyous look when they fully comprehended that this was indeed to be their future home.
After they all had admired the rich and tastily furnished parlors, Mr. Henderson took them over the rest of the house, planning where the furniture they already had was to be placed, showing the children their own pretty bedrooms and play-room, etc. Then they went to look at the grounds and outhouses. Harry was delighted with the chicken-house, and all were pleased with the little Gothic-shaped shed for the calf and pet lamb. They had already made acquaintance with these pets. The lamb was following Jennie, who hugged and kissed it from the first without the slightest fear. When wearied they returned to the house, where their mother had spread out in the dining-room the lunch they brought with them, no provision being yet made to cook a regular dinner. The person who let them in was only a kind neighbor, wife of the carpenter, who had charge of the keys while the repairs were being made. After eating their lunch and taking one more survey of everything, and their journey to the city to pack up and get ready to move out to their new home.
A few years have passed by since they were settled in it; now let us see if a more joyous spirit pervades the new home. Alas! no; for the same disposition to be particular about every thing fills Mrs. Henderson's mind. In fact, it has increased; for her pride in her beautiful home, and her ambition to keep her furniture and every thing in the most perfect order, often makes others uncomfortable instead of adding to their happiness. The servants are constantly199overlooked and corrected if the least thing is misplaced. The children are not allowed to go here or there; must not play on the front lawn, or go among the flowers for fear of spoiling something, and even Mr. Henderson is reminded to leave his boots in the hall, and put on his slippers before coming into the parlor, no matter how tired he may be of an evening, after having been at the office in the city all day. Or if he threw the newspaper carelessly down on the lounge instead of the table, it was folded up before him as a silent reproof, then laid where it belonged. Thus home was not made as bright to any one as it might have been.
Poor Mattie had a more strangely weird look than ever, for she was constantly striving to shield her younger brother and sister from reproof by having her eyes in every direction, to replace as quickly as possible anything they might leave in disorder. She perfectly idolized her brother, but he, boylike, was often thoughtless of the trouble he caused his sister, though he loved her very dearly, and confided to her all his little troubles or ambitious secrets of “when I'm a man.” The one he most talked of was having a home of his own, where his sisters could come and see him, and scatter and bang things about just as much as they pleased, not realizing that if they all lived, they too would be grown up, and not care so much about such things as they now did.
One day Harry came in from school with cheeks flushed, and a wearied look. Flinging down his books, he threw himself on the lounge in the sitting-room.
“Harry,” said Mrs. Henderson, “get up at once, and put your books in the right place.”
“Oh, do let my books be where they are; my head aches.”
“Well, if your head does ache it would not have made it any worse to place your books where they belong. I expect you have been playing too hard.”
Thoughtful Mattie at once placed them on the shelf, Mrs. Henderson not caring who did it so her love of order was gratified. At tea-time Harry scarcely tasted anything, and after tea his father noticing his still flushed cheeks called him to his side, and asked him what was the matter with him.
“Oh, papa, my head aches so!” exclaimed the child, as he laid it down upon his father's shoulder.
Finding that his head was hot, and hands very dry and feverish, he told Harry he thought he had better go to bed, and as he noticed his wife was busy, upon some “household care intent,” he proposed to go with him to his room. The child looked pleased, and took his father's hand till they reached the foot of the stairs, then he seemed unable to lift one foot before the other, and complained of being “oh, so dizzy.” His father at once raised him in his arms, and carried him up to bed. With almost womanly gentleness he undressed his dear boy, then bathed his hands and forehead until they seemed cooler. Seating himself by the bedside, he begged Harry to go to sleep. After tossing about for a while he finally fell into a restless sleep. Mr. Henderson then stole softly down-stairs, and told his wife that he feared Harry was going to be really sick.
“Why, my dear, you are always so anxious about the children! He came in tired from school, as if he had been playing too hard.” But before going to bed she looked in upon him, and saw he was asleep, but Mr. Henderson, still anxious, left their doors open, so that he could go to Harry if he should awake in the night. Feeling uneasy, he did not sleep very soundly, and toward morning heard Harry moaning as if in pain. Hastily dressing, he was soon by his bedside. The child did not seem to recognize him, and was evidently delirious. He called to his wife, and some one was aroused to go for the doctor. The doctor, after looking at Harry, and feeling his pulse, shook his head gravely, as he made up a prescription. When he left the room the anxious parents followed him into the hall, begging him to tell them what was the matter with their darling boy, for Mrs. Henderson, though not usually demonstrative, had an affectionate heart, and when it was roused showed deep feeling. The doctor told them that Harry seemed to have all the symptoms of scarlet fever, and advised them to keep the girls out of his room. But Mattie, loving her brother with all the warmth and depth of an ardent nature, repressed toward others, had been by her brother's bedside a long time in the evening after his father left him. He had awaked and called for a drink just as she was going to her own room, and she complained of his head aching, she had stayed with him till he again fell asleep. She told her mother this, and begged to be still near him. It was too late now for any precautions to avail aught, so Mattie was permitted to soothe her brother's wandering mind. Oh, how the mother's heart ached as he begged her not to reprove him for tossing his things around. “Oh, my head aches so; do let the books stay where they are,” he again and again said, repeating his last words to his mother.
A day later Mattie was not seen in her brother's room, or Jennie's voice heard anywhere about the house. They, too, lay moaning in pain. How glad, Oh, how very glad, would Mrs. Henderson have been, could she only have seen a misplaced chair, or school books lying around! Every thing was in too perfect order now, while a hushed stillness reigned over the whole house, except in the room where the precious little sufferers lay. Toward the end of the week they grew worse, then it was known that Death hovered near. One by one was touched by his icy hand. Who can describe the desolation of that home? The father's bright day-dreams for his children's future happiness on earth all vanished, and his heart left desolate and almost broken; for he had found his greatest source of pleasure and happiness in his children, when free from the cares of business. Over the repentant mother, crushed with grief and anguish, we will draw a veil. It was years before she could banish the longing wish to have her little ones back, to make them happier than she now knew they could have been while with her, but the wish, alas! was in vain. An unvaried order and oppressive silence followed her every-where as a daily reproof, as a lesson learned too late. Are there not others who may learn the same sad lesson too late? Home, remember, cannot be made too happy for the little one, who may be “only lent for a while.”—Ladies Repository.