way; for he showed them all to Mrs. Thomas, | adjoining chamber. But, alas! she had not the and I suppose you'll allow she can read writing. calmness of spirit which metaphorically rocked And he didn't have any clothes, not an article, that good lady's slumbers; and she had stolen for when he arrived he bought a carpet-bag with out of the door communicating with the corrihis last dollar, and stuffed it out with some dor, and now stood in the shelter of one of the thing, so nobody should suspect. And she lent gray, stone pillars supporting the gallery, resthim the money to get those very clothes he wears, less, eager, starting at every footstep, and hearand a trunk, and things respectable. There ing her own heart beat above the din of house now!" and street.

"Well, if you won't believe it, you won't; and there's the end of it. But let me tell you that Mrs. Thomas has written letters to his mother time and again since he's been here, and such beautiful, affectionate ones, she says-She turned proudly to resent it; but his keen it would make you cry to read 'em over. He gaze turned the blush of anger into her cheek, can't write since his arm was hurt; but he tells and her eyes sank again. She had always her what to say, and she's sealed them with his dreaded him, and yet they had been so very coat of arms, and directed them to Madame guarded! Luisa de Legarra, and put them in the postoffice herself. There, what do you think of that ?"

Mrs. Pickens, ever easily beguiled, sank into her nap with double enjoyment from its postponement. Mrs. Thomas, in the little dressing-again!" room attached to the parlor and bedchamber which formed her suit of apartments, sat with true Southern enjoyment of the brushing and curling process which occupied herself and maid the interval between dinner and tea daily. Florida was supposed to be quietly following the example of the good Mrs. Pickens in the

The Wilmington boat lay, lazily puffing and Her coldness and suspicion-her blowing, at the end of its long, dirty wharf. mute denial! If he would only smile again-"Uncles," with wrinkled, black faces and frosty only speak-once more unclose those heavy-hair, walked around the freight as if to calculidded eyes-she would promise, swear, bind herself for life or death! Could she doubt her own heart longer?

wearily at the glare and bustle, and longed for | ness-like papers, Judge Pickens raised his hand the fresh sea-breeze that was to give them mo- warningly. mentary vigor again; while gay belles, who had fluttered through race-week and February balls, turned impatiently away from these living sermons on the vanity of life.

Conspicuous among these stood Florida's new chaperone in the gayest of plaid silks and the most cherry-colored of ribbons, bandying jests and compliments with her own train of gallants and any who might chance to claim acquaintanceship from neighboring circles. So completely was she absorbed in the triumphs of the moment that nothing short of an explosion would have distracted her attention from the business in hand.

How long the hour seemed to Florida, alone in her state-room, breathing the close, heated air, unable to fix her thoughts for a moment on the book she had taken mechanically to stifle thought and reflection. It was too late now. She had promised-she had taken an oath so fearful that her lips trembled to pronounce it, and in three days more it would be sealed by marriage vows.

She followed them without a word, clinging to John Habersham's arm as she threaded the crowd, passing the state-room, where Legarra was content to remain a voluntary prisoner, and so close to the unconscious Mrs. Thomas that their vails fluttered together for an instant; they crossed the slippery gangway; it was withdrawn the next moment; black, turbid, impassable waters swelled up between them and the heavy hull turned seaward. She felt that her father was dying, and that she deserved it; and she felt, besides, as Peter might have done when the angel guided him past the sleeping guards, and he heard the great iron gates of the prison clank together behind him.

Mrs. Thomas, "weak but not wicked," purchased the absence of her vindictive and recriminating escort by nearly the full amount of the liberal check received from her husband for her expenses Northward; and Florida's trunks, strange to say, were added to the russet box inscribed "C. L., Galveston, Texas," though what use he could possibly make of a lady's wardrobe Mrs. Thomas could not divine. Nevertheless it saved her all thought and perplexity regarding them, and she was too thankful to purchase liberty at any price.

Mrs. Pickens wonders to this day how "that runaway barber from New Orleans, who imposed on Flory Clayton so shamefully, ever learned French and Spanish so beautifully, and got money enough from Mrs. Thomas to pay his board bills: above all, how he ever managed to hold that stuff that every body took for

Already she obeyed Legarra as if she had been his slave; ever since that terrible night, and those days of utter prostration which followed, when she was maddened by their separation and his danger, a frown, an approach to agitation on his part, triumphed. It was the same unquestioning servitude she had so often wondered at in Mrs. Thomas, when she first knew the secret bond between them, and how even her jewels were pawned to furnish the sums he demanded, always to be paid by those remittances that never came. A hard, unnat-blood in his mouth, and talk, too, when he had ural feeling rose up whenever she thought of those turns! No wonder Florida was frightenher father; but now that distance, and oaths, ed, poor thing! with that horrid story of an inand a lifetime were separating them, it gave ward wound, and she had come as near as any way to an anguish that almost forced her to cry thing to offering to nurse him herself when he out. The narrow berth seemed like a coffin in- was pretending to be sick after it!" She adclosing, stifling her. Was this a foretaste of mires her husband's shrewdness and sagacity the days that were to come? What was re- more than ever, and thinks he ought to be made morse like ?-penitence unavailing, and finding | Judge of the Supreme Court, since she found no place for forgiveness, though sought care- how quietly he tracked the antecedents of their fully with tears?

late foreign acquaintance by telegraph and de

"The gentleman, Miss-" and the yellow-tective, and proved that letter of Major Clayturbaned face of the stewardess followed the slight tap that announced her at the door.

"Yes, directly," she said, almost sullenly, so unlike the greeting the coming of a betrothed lover should receive. It was his own arrangement that they should remain in their respective state-rooms until they had crossed the bar, to avoid the possibility of any uncomfortable encounter or questioning. Why had he intruded on her so soon? She waited to wrap a shawl about her and shade her face with a vail before she went out to meet him. But it was not the dark form of the Cuban that filled up the narrow entrance of the passage leading to the saloon. John Habersham's kindly face, softened into strange gravity, startled her more even than her father's would have done. And behind him, with a package of letters and busi

ton's to Madame Dubois a forgery, "though he said any body might have seen that with half an eye!" she adds to any new acquaintance to whom she may happen to be detailing the only romance in real life in which she ever enacted a part.

Florida Clayton is Mrs. Habersham now-a noted housekeeper, and excellent mistress to a crowd of sable attendants, whose clothes she cuts, and whose children she looks after, as well as two of her own, Clayton and Calhoun, mistaken by most people for twins. When the busy day is over, and she sits by her husband on the broad piazza, while he smokes his cigar and caresses the dear head laid upon his knee, she looks thoughtfully out from the deep shadows of the magnolias on to the far-off lights of her father's house shining faintly through the

distance, and thinks how grateful she ought to be that he is spared to her, and that John forgave her so nobly, and made her a loved and honored wife, when he knew all.

Yes, all; for pure wife and mother as she is, her face burns with a sudden glow of shame as she wonders if he does not sometimes recollect with bitterness that her forehead has been touched by other lips than his-polluted lips that she shudders to recall. But this memory is her punishment, not his bane; for when she kneels by his side and winds her arms around him in a mute plea for forgiveness, burying her facefor at such moments she can not raise her eyes to his-he lifts her brow and banishes the guilty flush with gentle, womanly kisses that speak more lovingly than words.

THE

ENJOYING OUR WORK.

ual nature, work has been ordained to improve the earth, and render it a fit theatre for the displays of Christian virtue. How beautifully are religion and work united in the Decalogue? The divine command is to labor "six days," and to rest on the "seventh." If we do not work for six days we can have no Sabbath; for the Sabbath, no matter how observed, can not be a religious day to him who fails to labor through the other period of the week. Idleness can never have a Sabbath; luxury and ennui, wasting all their time in "inglorious sloth,' deaden their capacity for its repose. The two institutions-weekly labor and Sabbath restare joined together, and neither has any significance without the other. Both, therefore, are typical institutions looking to the future, and foreshadowing ideas greater than themselves.

No man should feel that his work is a mere

HE most of people who live in a Christian community believe that work is a divine in-earthly necessity. Nor ought he to look upon stitution; but there are few who have more it as drudgery. Whatever are its burdens and than a general idea of what is meant by work toils, there is always a thought, a sublime as a divine law. As for tracing the wisdom of thought beneath them, which is, that there is God in it, they never think of such a thing. a great intellectual and moral benefit in all his Content to know that, somehow, it is connect-appointed tasks. Of this benefit nothing should ed with the system of Providence, and operates deprive him. Nothing can deprive him of it, to the moral advantage of society, they take no pains to investigate its close relations to the character and future welfare of man. Such persons can readily see how work provides daily bread and clothing--how it moves the whole machinery of business-how it creates a nation's wealth, and builds up the power of material civ-ation to the dispensations of Providence, a heroic ilization. Beyond this their thoughts never extend. Hence their opinions on this subject are defective; and they never realize half the good of work, because of their imperfect conceptions of its true value.

if he is a sincere, right-minded, true-hearted man. Daily industry may not fully repay his hard exertions; all his struggling may yield him but a scanty remuneration; but beyond this there is another reward. There is a strength of will, a silent endurance, a peaceful reconcili

trust, that elevate and ennoble his humble toil. So far as a man considers the higher connec tions of his work, that far is he above circumstances. In that sphere the penuriousness of capital, the grinding selfishness of employers can not reach him. Hence there is always an opportunity for him to enjoy his work. Let its

more than food and raiment in it. The presence of a divine spirit is there-a wise and beautiful law established by the benevolence of God-and wherever that law is obeyed, wherever its wisdom and beauty are felt, the goodness of the Infinite One comes to the heart and enriches its feelings. A man works all the better by thus entering into the moral import of labor.

God's laws justify themselves to our

Work is not a mere provision for animal wants. Without doubt it was designed to be the means of our livelihood; but this is its low-earthly aspects be ever so discouraging, it has est use. Work feeds and clothes us. It gives us homes, and furnishes comforts and luxuries. All this it does as God's ordinance; but it does much more. Work is a great auxiliary to the moral and spiritual interests of life. Not only does it tend to preserve us from vice, but it promotes virtue, by occupying our time, training our faculties, and disciplining our nature to patient, persevering efforts. Work may supply our bodily and social wants; may yield all that reason. If we yield our intelligence to their the present and future require for sustenance excellence, as well as our service to their auand support; and yet its obligations are not dis- thority, they become means to improve and charged. It is a moral and spiritual law, or- exalt our character. No one avails himself of dained by the Creator to exercise our higher at- the entire power of any great law, be it natural tributes to aid in forming a pure and elevated or moral, unless the convictions of his mind, no tone of character. For the sake of the mind, less than his actions, are offered in homage to no less than for the body, are we appointed to be its wisdom and love. For the obedience that creatures of toil. The "sweat of the brow" has honors God is not a blind, thoughtless obedience, a deeper meaning than is derived from nerves but one that sces the embodiment of Himself in and muscles, while "thorns and thistles" speak | His laws, and seeks therein for fellowship with another language besides the curse. Work is a Him. Men grossly err, therefore, who find in part of that economy which contemplates the re-work nothing more than a provision for outward newing of our ruined race. If Christianity has life. For them the presence of God is there. been sent into the world to redeem our spirit- If they labor aright, the purity and glory of His

39

nature will shine through the law and brighten | thing done, and it is a stronger nature for every the spiritual faculties of their being.

effort put forth to express itself. No law of life is more beautiful than that which provides the conditions of progress in whatever is honestly and honorably executed. Give a man the homeliest employment, and if it occupy him aright it will tend to qualify him for something better. True work never enslaves and degrades the mind. Instead of this, it continually calls out the rational qualities of our being, and trains them for vigor and scope in other departments of life. In his sonnet to Milton, Wordsworth says:

"And yet thy heart

To enjoy our work, we must be conscious of personal improvement through its instrumentality. It must afford employment to the mind, stimulating the active powers of the intellect, and enlisting the feelings. Not only must it keep the attention awake, but it must exercise skill and ingenuity, and besides this lead the thought beyond its own immediate requisitions and quicken its functions. If our work fail to occupy the thinking faculties, it soon degenerates into dull routine. The freshness of the mind is lost, attention becomes mechanical, habits put an end to vigor, and the whole inThe lowliest duties on herself did lay." tellect sinks into a sluggish mass. All occupaThe great poet, gifted with that insight which tions, in this respect, are not alike. Some are reads the heart in its relations to outward objects, more intellectual than others. Few, however, knew how "lowliest duties" are the firmest stepare necessarily deadening to the intellect. By ping-stones in all advancement. For the same far the larger part of human employments tend reason the "lowliest" work may bring us nearto cultivate and enlarge the mind, and if we er to God, and develop a capacity for what lies used them aright they would be constant means beyond itself. A man never knows the future of intellectual progress. There is always some-purposes of Providence toward himself. But thing to be learned from them. The most com- this is always to be believed and felt; viz., if a mon day-labor, the humblest mechanical pur- man will faithfully do the work assigned him, suit, have some connection with natural laws living up to the measure of his lot and perfectand objects, which, if properly studied, expanding himself according to the opportunity grantthe thought and refine the taste. Every thing is an outlet into a grand universe, in which truth awaits the honest, earnest seeker. Books and men are not the only teachers. Nature is full of private help. Intellectual friends are never wanting. A mind open to instruction, anxious to learn, burning with eagerness to know, is sure of aid and counsel. Hugh Miller found the science of Geology in his business as a stone-mason, and Pallissy, the potter, had an ample field unfolded to his genius while he worked in ores and earths. How much of poetry Burns saw and felt as he followed the plow! What visions of beauty and glory rose upon the mind of the Ettrick Shepherd as he watched his flocks on the hill-sides of Scotland! If our work is in itself not directly intellectual, let us remember what Bloomfield the poet and farm-laborer, Drew the metaphysician, Bunyan the Bedford tinker, accomplished. These men worked and thought. They had minds not to be satisfied with the occupations of their hands. Carey belonged to this class of men. They do not reach distinction by the avenues that others tread in their heralded march to the summits of greatness, but through hidden paths, aloof from the crowd, away from observation, their instincts guide them up the steep of fame.

ed him, the good Providence that rules the world will not deny him the means of progress. One should work evermore in this hopeful, trusting spirit, for the temper of mind in which he toils is more important than any outward result. Business may yield profit, sagacity may find short roads to wealth, hard work may bring houses and lands, but it is all a sad failure if a man grows not thereby into a larger manliness of soul. For the material can never compensate for the loss of the spiritual, and a defrauded heart is infinitely worse than a bankrupt purse.

Probably no truth in human history is more frequently and strikingly illustrated than the one now under consideration. Men are not suddenly and amply endowed for great positions, nor is it usual for them, by one quick and mighty bound, to spring into the leadership of society. Not only is time demanded, but toil and service are sternly required of him who is destined to achieve something for his race. How forcibly David's life exemplified this fact! No one, perhaps, could have seen any connection between the sheepfold and the kingdom of Israel. Wise men would have been puzzled to trace the relation that a boy's careless existence, lying on the hill-sides of Judea and watching In this view work is discipline. Day by day the grazing flocks, bore to a destiny of incomit gives one a greater command over his facul- parable grandeur. What occasion was there ties, over himself; teaching him a patient sub- here for the exercise of those virtues that were, mission to wise laws, exercising him in the in after years, to make David's reign a memoknowledge acquired by effort and experience,rable era in the career of Israel? And yet we and withal fitting his mind for other and higher know that this mode of life, its peculiar circumtasks. Any work, if well done, makes a man stances, its secluded thoughtfulness, its silent more a man. However humble that work may meditativeness, its mute companionship with be, its faithful performance employs something nature, all went far, under divine influence, to more than skill of hand and ingenuity of brain. mould him for future distinction. The encountThe moral nature of the soul enters into theer with "a lion and a bear" was more than a