ARTICLE CIV. A Reminiscence. BY AMICA. THERE once resided in the town of a woman of great mental power, but of exceedingly eccentric habits. She was much given to reverie, but would occasionally break forth into the most impassioned eloquence, though no listener were near. She was very obliging, and would sometimes throw herself into this state for the amusement of her young friends, who were never so happy as when in her presence. I will not say that there was any design or preparation in her seeming spontaneity, but certain it is that she would often make the most appropriate remarks without appearing to have an idea of addressing particular individuals. One day a large company having assembled our friend was invited to exercise her special gift; she declined at first, but at last yielded to their entreaties, and commenced as follows: "Mankind is an instrument which should be attuned to nature and the great I am.' There should be skilful musicians who could wind all the various keys till there was no more dissonance, but a perfect chord. How beautiful at eve to stand in the midst of some wood, and looking up to the stars catch the echo of their celestial music; then gazing far off to the distant ocean behold the waves gently undulating in peaceful harmony; and again, turning to the trees, their foliage scarcely nodding to the evening zephyr, feel a holy calm steal into the soul which anticipates the bliss of heaven. "Heaven!" she exclaimed, and the word appeared to vibrate through her whole frame, gilding it with a halo of unearthly brilliancy, "what is heaven? but a state worth as much to-day as to-morrow. Why put off the time and place? It may be here and now. Why pine away in this world, sighing for another? Why throw from us the celestial buds which shoot up in our path, saying, there is no joy or comfort here below? Why not enjoy the golden sun, lighting up hill and dale, and bidding all nature rejoice, not turn frowningly away and with the telescope strive to descry a murky cloud which even should it come, might pass by harming no one. Why drop the ripe and luscious fruit lest a worm lay concealed in its inmost core? Why walk with fear over the verdant plain, lest a snake coiled in the grass, emit its venom upon us? Why look with fear and trembling at the phenomena of nature, when the Great Architect presides at the helm, and guides each planet in its course? Why distrust the Father who can and does, embosom the universe? Why call this habitation of man a scene of woe, a charnel house? Is it not fair to look upon? Is there no beauty nor grandeur in the scene? Is there no melody in the rolling surge, the whispering gale or the native chorus of birds? Are there not sublimity and healing power in thunder, lightning and the tempest's roar? nay more, in those convulsions of the earth which shake it to its centre? Rather is not creation rife with life and bliss? Is there not joy among the lowing herd and the sporting dog? Is there no plenty? Is there not always enough in the world for every creature that is born into it? 298 A Reminiscence. [March "Heaven!" she again reiterated, with increased enthusiasm, "why may it not be in this our primeval being? True we are subject to innumerable trials; to afflictions which bow us to the earth; but may not the spirit rise above them all, and stand forth in purity? It might be so;it will be so, when man and woman are true to one another. Then we shall have a foretaste of heavenly joy though not in its richest fulness. Again she turned upon her heel, and bent her ear as if to detect some delicate sound; then drawing herself up, a frown darkened her brow, and a sigh escaped her lips. "Alas! alas!" she almost sobbed, “when will men and women be true? Their intercourse is too often a tissue of deceits, a web of complicated falsehoods. Each wishes to appear perfect in the other's eyes, but the idea of being so, rarely enters into their conception. The most fiery temper, the most grovelling passions, and unholy ends are concealed, only to fall with more tremendous force when the curtain shall drop which screened them from view. How often does woman look upon her chosen friend as an impersonation of all that is excellent; believing herself unworthy of an object so pure, possessing so many divine attributes; and yet when that fatal word has passed which binds her to him forever, and the mask falls, the devouring wolf is recognised, and she knows that the law and her own short-sightedness have made her his prey. Dark shades have no sex. How often does woman stand before man in all the gentlenes of her nature, bearing an impress of angelic existence, soothing his cares, chasing away his tears, sustaining him under heavy trials, becoming a foster-guardian to his motherless babes, and when she has won him by those persuasive arts, and heads his table as the mistress of his household, throw aside that assumed garb, drives his children from their father's dwelling, and plays the part of a merciless tyrant. How blind we are to our best interests. Why pretend to be a diamond, when we are only broken glass? Why add rouge, tresses, and cork to our persons, thus feigning to be vigorous and healthful when disease has fastened itself about us, and death stands ready to smite us down. If there were true affection, could such be done? Would men pass for Counts and women for angels, when one is a pauper and the other a vixen, and both traitors to their kind? There never can be loyal marriages while such games are practised. Each sheuld present his or her own face, and not a painted case. If there is any one thing more lamentable than another, it is that total disgust which follows deception. Fortune may smile upon us; luxuries and lands may be heaped upon us; but there is nothing which can atone for the lacerated, wounded, and deceived heart. If the two have been base, then bickering and contention is their portion; but if one be true, and the other false, then heart-breaking, despair, and premature death are the natural fruits." At this our friend stopped; whether it was that memory brought back visions too painful to bear, or whether in that eager crowd she espied many whose steps were leading to destruction, I know not; but a voice from Heaven, crying, "Repent, repent," could not be more impressive than was her searching gaze as it cast itself upon each one of those there congregated. Certain it is, that whatsoever may befall us, we can never forget the solemn remembrance of that bour, which must ever stand out as a warning light to those approaching a dangerous coast. |