Papers from Overlook House Part 18

So the curtains were bought. They were put up, and Mrs. Digby was as happy as Mr. Digby was dejected and miserable.

Then the good lady discovered that the porch must be taken down, and a piazza erected. Her lord said it was impossible. Here again was he foolish enough to place his impossibility as an opponent to her necessity. She would pay for a portion of the cost out of the money which was sent her by her aunt. But Mr. Digby said that he had several debts to pay, and knew not how to meet them.

Poor man! He here made a most disastrous movement of his forces. The able general opposed to him, was too much gifted with military genius to lose sight of the proffered advantage.

Did he expect that she was to pay his debts out of the present made her by her aunt? No such thing. Her dear aunt manifestly intended that the money should be spent for her special comfort. She could read him the letter. She intended, as that kind epistle taught, that her niece should expend it in some way that would personally gratify herself. She never intended that it should be swallowed up in the ordinary expenditures of the house.

So she ingeniously carried her day, for discomfiting Mr. Digby, on the ground that he had proposed to her that she should pay his debts, which, however, it will be observed he had not done,--for he had only remonstrated against new expenditures before his old debts were expunged,--she wisely made the two questions one. As he had to retire from the field on the question of battle, as insisted on by her, despite of all his pleas to the contrary,--she took for granted that the subject of the new piazza was involved in the one issue. So the piazza was erected.

Some time after this, one of her friends wished to dispose of a new carriage, or one almost as good as new. Mrs. Digby described it in glowing terms. And then she said that she could have it at a great reduction in the price. If the fish knew that the hook was near, as well as Mr. Digby knew that the cord and hook were dangling around to secure him for a prey,--no fish would ever be caught.

It was astonis.h.i.+ng what an eloquence Mrs. Digby could throw into such a statement. It was not merely that she was eloquent when she described the carriage. The picture she drew of the comfort in which she and her lord would appear,--nay their increased elegance and respectability, was one which could not have been surpa.s.sed. Then there was a happy contrast presented between the proposed new equipage, and their present homely wagon, in which they had of late years jogged along in a contented way, which proved that their ideas of what was desirable were in need of improvement.

The master-power of her eloquence did not, however, here appear in its highest manifestations. No, it was revealed when the simple description of the carriage, conveyed to the mind of the hearer, the idea that if he did not most earnestly desire to purchase it, he must be a man fit for treason, stratagems, and spoils. The reproof was carried to the heart through terrors, which in themselves seemed incapable of any such power.

Those who are ignorant of such feminine power, would as soon expect the rays of the sun to bring with them the food needful for their sustenance. And when she referred to the old carriage, Mr. Digby felt as if his conscience was indeed disturbed. There were two statements addressed to him. One referred to the homely nature of the wagon. The other said, if you could allow a woman who has been a faithful wife,--a woman who has shared your fortunes for fifteen years,--who has never spared herself to order her household well,--who is the mother of seven children of whom you are very proud,--to crown all,--who has practised for fifteen years in your house, in the most untiring manner the most exact, and even unreasonable economy,--buying only what she has been forced to do under the pressure of necessity,--if you could allow such a woman to go in that old wagon, when this new and pleasant carriage could be purchased, and that too when she is willing to give part of the money which was sent her by her affectionate aunt, that aforesaid money having been intended for her own personal benefit,--why then you are one of those of whom the world may well say, that it is fortunate that you are not placed in a situation where you could become a pirate.

After all this moving eloquence, one pa.s.sage was repeated in express words. Mr. Digby was told that if he would agree to the purchase of the carriage and the harness which appropriately belonged to it, she would expend in paying for it the three hundred dollars sent her by her aunt.

In that case he would have to advance but one hundred dollars, and by that insignificant outlay, insignificant of course she meant in comparison of that which they would gain, for economy is wealth, and she could not throw away a dollar on any account, he would secure this invaluable vehicle, and prove himself a man who had some regard for his wife.

Mr. Digby suggested that some of this money, sent by the aunt was to have paid for the window-curtains. He intended to add in order, some other purchases, all of which were to have a partial payment from the same treasured notes. But this suggestion only brought upon him a storm of virtuous indignation. Nothing could be more unreasonable than to expect that her money should be devoted to such purposes. All that she could say, was, that the curtains were necessities. And what would they have done if the aunt had not sent the money? If the present had not come, he would never have thought that she would be the one who ought to supply the money for such necessary expenses.

So the carriage was bought, and at last the money of the aunt was expended.

Mr. Digby made a calculation, and found that the three hundred dollars of the aunt, had been expended in part payment for purchases which cost him about one thousand dollars. He uttered the fervent hope that the good aunt would not send any more of her precious gifts.

Note. The ma.n.u.script here again becomes illegible. As far as I can gather from a word which can be distinguished here and there, Mr. Digby, after much suffering, and a severe illness from mental excitement, found that his good lady, who was really a woman of affectionate nature, changed all her views. Some one, at the close of the ma.n.u.script, appears to be inquiring of him, how it is that he has attained great peace of mind. The reply seems to be to the effect, that all the old theories are exploded from their domestic arrangements, and that in place of all other questions, the one consideration now is, what their income will enable them to purchase. And there also seems to be an a.s.sertion, that he no longer feels as if he was in danger of ruin, when any of their relatives sends his wife a present. There further appears to be some apology to the proverb, which he so greatly despised in former times, that economy is wealth.

[Footnote 1: This paper was so much injured by time, that the editor could decipher only some portions. But he has concluded to publish these fragmentary hints, which may be of utility, and open some eyes, as they reveal some similar weaknesses, of a propensity to live beyond one's income, which modern progress has not yet perfectly removed from all minds.]

XIII.

_TO MY WIFE._

The lapidary day by day Brightened the sparkling gem, And then that diamond flashed each ray Fit for a diadem.

So in this trusting heart of mine Increaseth love for thee; A love whose rays shall brighter s.h.i.+ne When earth shall close o'er me.

The lapidary knoweth nought But diamond-dust alone, By which full glory may be wrought Upon that precious stone.

So day by day increaseth love By my true love alone; The love that trial shall approve A measure of thy own.

XIV.

_FADING AWAY._

From morn to night, thine eye, my dying-boy Is on those autumn leaves that ever wave, A sea of leaves on that great forest oak; Each wave of that wide sea a wave of fire.

Ah! boy! before those tinted leaves are sear, And fallen with light crush upon the earth, Thou wilt be gone. Oh! glorious canopy Around thy dying bed! All nature seems To yield a triumph conqueror ne'er received, When all the world knew that he entered Rome, To the Redeemer's little one who waits Just at the gate of life.

Blest is that tree That lulls thy quiet. 'Tis one beauteous flame Less glorious only than the burning bush, When G.o.d was present in the wilderness.

Is He less present to thy spirit now?

Soon, soon a change will come, and thou wilt see The angels round thee. They will glow in light From the Redeemer's presence. Then how dim All earth's great transport round us in this scene!

Why hast thou lived, my boy? Thy little life Has all been sorrow: all but some few smiles To thy dear mother, and to me, to him Thy brother here unconscious of his loss, And to thy faithful nurse who never knew Her care was trouble, sorrowing but for thee.

But thou hast lived because thou art redeemed: Because a life was here begun for heaven.

Thou livest to say, love not this pa.s.sing world.

'Tis not our home, or surely such as thou Would be exempt from sorrow. All is well.

Yea, blessed is the family where death Enters to take an infant. Without fear All look unto the world where it has rest.

No gentler sorrow falls on all than this.

No gentler sorrow nurtures mutual love.

O easy faith to know that it is gone By the bright pathway to eternal realms Which He first opened, when he left the cross, The earth he blessed, and so ascended there, Where with Him all the blessed at death have rest!

THE END.