Words of Cheer for the Tempted, the Toiling, and the Sorrowing | Page 4

not mind the weather
so much," remarked Aunt Mary, with a quiet smile. "You are not in a
mood to enjoy a book just now, so what will you do, my dear?"
"Mend stockings, or turn my room upside down, and then arrange it
neatly," said Alice in a speculative tone. "There is nothing in the house
to interest me; there is Patty in the kitchen, I have just been paying her
a visit. She is as busy as a bee, and as happy as a queen. I believe poor
people are happier than the rich, in such weather as this, at least."
"Because they are useful, Alice; go busy yourself about some physical
labour for an hour or two, then come back to me, and I predict your
face will be as sunshiny as ever. I am in earnest--you need not look so

incredulous!"
"What shall I do?" asked the young girl laughing. "I don't know how to
do a single thing in domestic matters. Mother says I shall never work. It
would spoil my fairy fingers, I presume, a terrible consequence!"
"But seriously Alice, you are not so entirely incapable of doing
anything, are you?"
"I am positively, but I can learn if I choose. I believe I will sweep my
room and put it in order, as a beginning. That will be something new:
now I will try my best!" Alice sprang from her chair, and tripped from
the apartment quite pleased with the idea. A smile broke over Miss
Clinton's features, after her niece had left her alone. "How easily Alice
might be trained to better things, by love and gentleness," she said half
aloud. "Oh! if she would only love me, and turn to me fondly. How I
would delight to breathe a genial prayer over the buds of promise in her
youthful heart, and fan them to warmer life." More than an hour flew
by, as Mary Clinton sat in thought, devising plans to awaken her
favourite to a true sense of her duties--to a knowledge of her
capabilities for happiness and usefulness. We may be useful with a
heart full of sadness; but we can rarely taste of happiness, unless we are
desirous to benefit some one besides ourselves. A quietness came over
the lonely one as she mused--a spirit of beautiful repose; for she forgot
all thoughts of her own enjoyment, in caring for another.
"You are quite a physician, Aunt Mary, to a mind diseased," exclaimed
Alice, breaking her revery as she came in with a smiling face, after the
performance of her unaccustomed labour. "I am quite in tune again now.
I believe there is a little philosophy in being busy occasionally, after
all."
"There is really," replied Miss Clinton, raising her deep blue eyes to
Alice's face, with their pleasant expression; "and there is also
philosophy in recreation--in abandoning yourself for a time to innocent
gayety. An hour of enjoyment is refreshing and beneficial."
"Why, Aunt Mary!" said Alice in some surprise, "I had no idea that you
thought so. You are always so industrious and quiet, I imagined you
disapproved of the merriment of ordinary people. When we have a
large company you almost always retire early. Why do you do so, aunt,
may I ask you?"
Mary Clinton was silent a moment, then she said gently, "When I think

I can add to the ease or enjoyment of any person present, I take
pleasure in staying; but when I feel that I am rather a restraint than
otherwise, I retire--to weep. You are yet young and beautiful, my child,
for you have never known such feelings. I am too selfish, or I would
not be sad so often; it is right that I should pass through such a school
of discipline. I hope it has already made me better." The look of
resignation that beamed from Miss Clinton's tearful eyes, caused a
chord in Alice's heart to tremble with a strange blending of love,
sweetness, and sorrow.
"You should be happy, if any one should, dear aunt," she said in a low
voice, and she partly averted her head, to conceal the tears that started
down her cheek. "I am happy so often, she resumed, turning around and
seating herself upon an ottoman at her aunt's feet. "You deserve so
much more than I--to be as good as you are, Aunt Mary, I would almost
change situations, for then I should be sure of going to heaven."
"You can be just as sure in your own position, as in that of any other
person. But, dear child, the more deeply we scan our hearts, the more
we see there to conquer, in order that we may become fit companions
for the angels."
Alice remained thoughtful for some moments, then