Chapter IV: Part 4

and we might add, a fool's love is quite as heavy as his wrath. We speak not of the folly, which is a natural misfortune, but that of minds befooling themselves by levity, or dissipation, or idleness. Nothing wears better than good sense, and nothing is more essential to permanent congeniality and usefulness. It is sometimes a stern censor, but only because it wishes to be an honest friend. Let married persons take it for their counsellor and it will settle for them many questions, which inflame self-will and disturb love itself. They need above all others to be reasonable, to look to reason with all its revealed lights as the interpreter of God's will to them, and of their own relation to each other. It is a great thing for them to start in life with reasonable views of the most common-place arrangements of the household. How much disappointment, and bitterness, and sin, come from unreasonable views of expense, and who will undertake to estimate the amount of domestic misery resulting from household extravagance? The dress of many a wife, and the wine account of many a husband has been the ruin of the family. Let every couple start with a fair understanding as to what they can afford to spend, and keep sacredly within the limit. If the world laughs at their simplicity, they can well afford to laugh at the world's folly, and time will be very likely to put the laugh upon the right side. Much might be said of the deplorable influence of the extravagant notions of most young women in preventing thoughtful men from taking the risks of marriage, and we hazard nothing in saying that the worst vices of cities are closely connected with the growth of feminine extravagance. America will lose her birthright and have no trace of the old domestic order, if the folly runs through the land, and most girls are brought up to exact more expense than the average returns of industry and talent can earn.

Good sense, that honest counsellor, will save the parties from all controversy about prerogative, will interpret their peculiar jurisdictions duly; teaching the man to take the lead without magisterial assumption, to be the guardian without playing the tyrant; teaching the woman to follow his fortunes without being his slave, and to accept his deference without becoming his imbecile toy; exhibiting both in their likeness and difference, equals and not equals, so that the twain are made one by a due balance of gifts and harmony of contrasts.

Is there not need of urging with some emphasis the worth of reasonable relations between husband and wife? Are they not too ready to make a compromise of follies--the one annoyed by having her tastes and habits reviewed in the strong light of a masculine understanding--the other irritated at having his hard worldliness criticised by feminine refinement or sensibility--the two sometimes settling the difficulty by non-interference--the one left to extravagance and frivolity, if she will consent not to insist upon having her husband's time or thought--the other allowed to drudge as he will, if he will not intrude his utilitarianism into her sphere, or apply common sense to the charming follies that devour the dollars and the days. It is all wrong, and no gifts of fortune can make up for the want of thoroughly rational companionship between parties so allied, and so apt to belittle each other by triviality. Both are gainers by it, and intellectually as well as morally--the more gainers as in generous studies of nature, art, history, society, they take a common interest in the enlarging and ennobling fields of thought, and their habitual confidence makes them educators of each other. Without being alarmed by the valiant Minervas who brandish their flashing spears from reform platforms, and declare an independence at which the old Revolutionary signers would have stood aghast, we believe that the most thorough practical discipline is to be found in this home school, and the enlargement of feminine perception and the refining of masculine vigor, would advance vastly under such a culture. There would be a better mutual understanding of the two great domains of life, and a holy alliance between the two great families of minds. In plain language, if husband and wife would advise with each other fully on all important subjects, the robust understanding would be much helped by the quick wit, and fewer foolish things, far fewer evil things would be done in the world. In phrase more ideal, yet equally true, if insight were better allied with argument--ready sensibility with executive strength--nice perception with comprehensive judgment, reason would have a new avatar on earth, and the light of God would shine as never before in its beauty and its power into each household, and over the great globe.

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One more aspect of the class of duties before us now, we have to state, and one that comprises and carries out every other. They who marry are to live united in all the interests and purposes of existence.

The most obvious ground of union is the maintenance of the home and the welfare of the family. The order of Providence seems to require the one to provide by his labor or enterprise the means of livelihood, and the other to see that they are properly used. As manners are simple, and fortunes limited, the union of interests here is a very grave matter, and inefficiency or self-will on either side brings discomfort, perhaps wretchedness. As manners are refined, and luxuries abound, the same unity of minds is equally essential to give grace and true worth to the home. Let each respect the other in the several spheres, and combine to make both what they should be. Let not a man's laborious gains be squandered in folly, nor a wife's faithful care be disparaged as trivial. To use a homely word with a sacred meaning, who will not ask a blessing on good housekeeping? Is it not one of the fine as well as the useful arts--do not its very utilities like the fountain of living water sparkle into beauty? Happy they who know more of it than the tender mercies of hotels and boarding-houses reveal. They do _not_ learn it well, unless they mingle faith with their economies, and keep the home in divine peace, as well as in worldly thrift. A home divided against itself cannot stand. Who shall keep it one save He in whom alone all souls can have the unity of the spirit and the bond of peace, and whose blessing is needed quite as much in a ducal palace as in the plainest farm-house?

How shall we urge at length this point of union, or illustrate its bearing upon all interests, plans, and hopes? It is a great thing for two frail natures to live as one for life long. Two harps are not easily kept always in tune, and what shall we expect of two harps each of a thousand strings? What human will or wisdom cannot do, God can do, and His Providence is uniting ever more intimately, those who devoutly try to do the work of life and enjoy its goods together. For them there is in store a respect and affection--a peace and power, all unknown in the heyday of young romance. Experience intertwines their remembrances and hopes in stronger cords, and as they stand at the loom of time, one with the strong warp, the other with the finer woof, the hand of Providence weaves for them a tissue of unfading beauty and imperishable worth. A blessing on the brave and gentle spirit of the elect poet of our time, Alfred Tennyson, for speaking in his exquisite verse a truth that might too much task our prosaic analysis:--

"For woman is not undeveloped man,
But diverse; could we make her as the man,
Sweet love were slain, whose dearest bond is this
Not like to thee, but like in difference;
Yet in the long years liker must they grow;
The man be more of woman, she of man;
He gain in sweetness and in moral height,
Nor lose the wrestling thews that throw the world;
She mental breath, nor fail in childward care:
More as the double-natured Poet each:
Till at the last she set herself to man,
Like perfect music unto noble words;
And so these twain, upon the skirts of Time,
Sit side by side, full-summed in all their powers,
Dispensing harvest, sowing the To-be,
Self-reverent each and reverencing each,
Distinct in individualities,
But like each other even as those who love.
Then comes the statelier Eden back to men:
Then reign the world's great bridals, chaste and calm:
Then springs the crowning race of humankind."

"It is the worst clandestine marriage," said old Thomas Fuller, "when God is not invited to it, wherefore, beforehand beg his gracious assistance." Equally bad, we add, is the marriage, where His presence is not retained, and they who at first sought His blessing do not hold to it ever to keep them true and thoughtful, to lift them into a union to which the Beloved Son was not ashamed to compare His own communion with souls. Perfection on earth we may not ask, nor call a hasty word or impatient thought unpardonable. They who love much must expect to forgive something and forbear sometimes. But this may be expected and is demanded, that they who take each other's welfare in charge should never do any intentional unkindness, or fail of aught that may be done for the other's welfare. This may be expected and is demanded, that when the tie that binds them is severed by the only power that can fitly part them, and they are to part at death--they should look back with mutual blessing to the hour of their first union, be assured that through all vicissitudes and infirmities, they have tried to make each other better and happier, and that they have learned of Him whose name at their Cana made their wedding sacred, to trust in the realm where they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are as the angels of God.

Shrink not from applying the truth now before us to ourselves. Parents, apply it, and in training your sons and daughters use good sense upon a subject so often left to utter folly. They talk and think about it enough in a certain way, and with such poor aids as trashy novels and paltry gossip. Let them think and talk about it wisely, and let them not, if you can help it, learn wisdom at the cost of wretchedness. Respect Heaven's own laws, and do not allow the world's fashions and tyrannies to get the better of reason and conscience in controlling the most important of destinies. Husbands and wives, apply the troth--allow no routine to chill affection--no monotony to break down thoughtfulness. If the envious years should not allow you to celebrate your golden or even your silver wedding, live while you may in the wisdom which is the word of love, and the worth of it is beyond silver or gold or rubies.

Our Friends.

OUR FRIENDS.

Every important word in human language is of itself a chapter of history, and if we could read it rightly would tell us the mind of all the ages that have shaped its form, and all the individuals who have given its meaning. Starting from the beginning, every such word passes from century to century, nation to nation, and makes of itself a medium as universal as the air which forms its tones. We cannot open our mouths, in any kind or honest way, without declaring the creed of humanity, that began with man's creation, and has been enlarged or exalted by every sage and benefactor of our race. What word that is applied to men expresses this creed more than that of "friend?" From the very first, men have called each other friends, and our Saviour did not create, but developed the sense of the term, when he called his disciples friends. In the language in which Jesus was educated, the word flowed in the melody of David so true to friendship and to faith, and in the sentences of Solomon, never forgetful in his keenest prudence of the worth of friends. In the language which the evangelists borrowed from Greece, the word had won to itself many a classic charm, and in passing from the conversations of Socrates to the gospel of Christ, it deepened its meaning without damping its joy. St. John took from his Master's lips more than Plato took from the mouth of Socrates, when that evangelist penned the words, "I have called you friends." This holy sanction has not been forgotten, nor has Christ's spirit left the word. Every age fills it anew with meaning, as the golden chalice from age to age is filled anew at the altar. Daily life and high art and letters show its power. It is breathed in many a song and hymn of home affections and fireside companionship. To what pathos it subdues the majestic muse of Milton in his lament for Lycidas--to what solemnity it lifts the wayward heart of Shelley in his elegy on Adonais--and when since the Hebrew harp that thrilled such sorrow at the death of David's friend, has there been a holier and lovelier tribute to friendship than in the offering which in our utilitarian age the genius of Tennyson has laid on the tomb of Arthur Hallam? These are great instances indeed, but they speak what all may feel. Nay, what is the secret of the power of the poet or sage, except that he can best say what comes home to us all?

Friends,--We have and must have some whom we call such. Happy are we if they can be truly so called. It is not for us to choose, whether we shall have friends at all or in any sense, but it is ours to choose, whether we shall have them in the right sense. All people, however depraved, will have some associates whose company they to some extent enjoy, and he who cares for nobody and for whom nobody cares, may be set aside from the human family as essentially monstrous. Of monsters we are not treating, but of men, and with our common nature in view, I speak now of the duties of friends.

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This relation is founded in the will of God and the being of man. God has made us dependent upon each other for protection and comfort. The dependence is not limited by family ties alone, but extends to a large circle, in some measure indeed to all with whom we deal or speak. Nor is it confined to material interests. Friendship is as much a moral fact under Providence as light or gravitation is a physical fact. We like to see and talk with people for the pleasure of their society, and are unhappy when long away from those we know best. God has made this to be so in the structure of our nature, and His work as Creator has been constantly carried out by His providential care for society and all its affinities.

Our need of friends shows His designing will, and His designing will is all the clearer as this need is well supplied. In fact, we cannot be truly ourselves without society. Our thoughts and feelings cannot fully come out apart from congenial companionship. It cheers us, it quickens our powers, stirs our purposes, and the very best things that have been done in the world prove its worth. Christ himself needed it, rejoiced in it, consecrated it. As His disciples went forth two and two to found the heavenly kingdom, the social element kept company with the religious in their own hearts, and in their creed. The divine charity which the gospel inspired, cherished personal friendships as well as general humanity. The grim hermit, in an age whose faith gloried in sacrificing companionship to piety, was glad to know that other persons like himself were in the same wilderness, and would have been frantic at the very idea of being the only person living in the world. His lonely cell was many a time lighted up by images of friends still loved.

A freer age has brought out anew the friendship of the gospel, and little as enlightened people nowadays may be inclined to put on the dress and phrases of the Quaker, there has probably never been a time when so many accepted the essential ideas which led George Fox, William Penn and their associates to reject the old names and forms, and call the Christian Church simply a society of friends. There is a kindly feeling over the world now, and much of the best hope of humanity rests upon the fact, that so many judicious and influential people of every land know each other pleasantly and wish each other well. So friendship even in this sinful world is showing God's will for us, bringing out our own faculties and fulfilling the divine plans for mankind.

* * * * *

The sentiment, that animates the relation, needs little definition or analysis. In some sense, all understand it, although its best sense a true life only can teach. They are friends, who are attached to each other, with any kind of liking or loving. The attachment may begin in interest, as with parties in business or in pleasure, as with the votaries of some art or science, and as the interest or the pleasure is low or elevated, the attachment will shape its character. But however it begins, it never continues well and becomes genuine, unless the parties stand upon the same platform of principle, agree in what is highest and best, and in some way come within the scope of the Master's sense of a true friend, when he said, "I have not called you servants--I have called you friends."

Undoubtedly they are the best friends who differ much in incidental traits and agree in the essentials of character. Their likeness and their unlikeness brings them together. Their likeness makes them congenial, and their unlikeness makes them instructive and interesting to each other. Herein they follow the law of elective affinities, that runs through nature, and which makes a certain contrast essential to true harmony. Elective, yet not exclusive or entire, as the relation is, friends choose each other freely without ties of kindred blood, and however cordial the choice may be, it does not imply exclusive regard or entire union of interests. Affection, as well as esteem, enters into the sentiment, but in comparison with relations of blood and marriage, the element of esteem is generally larger in its composition than that of affection. It is esteem growing into affection rather than affection growing into esteem.

Come now to the practical point of view, and consider the duties of friends for ourselves. We have and desire to have friends, those who are such in general and those who are such particularly. What are we to do to keep or make them?

First of all we are to be sincere. Herein we must stand directly at issue with the fashionable world, that looks upon all sociability as an affair of manner, and manner as but one branch of costume--the mere dress of the tongue and eyes and looks. Let manner be respected, as it should be, yet what is it in its best estate but the simple and thoughtful expression of a gentle heart and a noble mind? It cannot be put on like a cloak, but must grow out as foliage and bloom from the life. It is so generally with manners in promiscuous society, but especially so between friends. They must be sincere alike for the sake of giving and of gaining the true goods of friendship. The heart itself thus acts happily, delighting in the free utterance of its convictions away from the world's folly and harshness. It craves a congenial sphere to breathe freely and fully. Sincere alike in his playful talk and serious conservation, a man finds his nature expanding as his life opens under genial influences refreshing as sunshine and dew. Sincerity indeed needs a grain of caution, and a thoughtful person will not tell his whole mind always. But judicious reserve need not be won at the cost of truth or by the sin of hypocrisy. Taught discretion by some experience of the ridicule or the deceit in store for garrulous frankness, a true friend will be sincere always, yet need not feel himself called upon to open his whole heart to those unable or unwilling to give his confidence hospitality. His spirit will not be without answer. Truth will sit upon his lips and win truth for him. The true will find the true.

But not only are we to be sincere for the vast comfort and gain of free, genial companionship, but for its direct service to others. If we wish to know ourselves, we should be willing to help others know themselves by telling them the truth. Says Lord Bacon, "there is no such flatterer as a man's self, and there is no such remedy against flattery of a man's self as the liberty of a friend." It is easy enough to get more or less than the truth regarding our failings, and friends often fret and spoil each other by a mutual retail of compliments and scandals which they make a business of collecting to be used in congratulation or condolement. What is better in view of such tale-bearing than a sincere counsellor, who at due times will tell the simple and entire truth, and above flattery and calumny will give honest advice upon faults of character and errors of conduct,--mingling kindness with caution, and never so encouraging as when thoroughly frank? This is a nice point, and one full of difficulties, yet the point is a main one, and a brave, generous heart need not fear the difficulties. No man is a true friend, who is not ready to be a faithful adviser, willing to wound self-love in its tenderest part, and give passing pain for the sake of lasting blessing. Not often and never with any assumption must he do this, but humbly as before the searcher of hearts, and in view of the benign and majestic being who washed his disciples' feet before telling them of their defects, and opening to them the fulness of his wisdom and love.

Again, friends should be earnest as well as sincere--earnest not merely in feeling or temperament, but in the aims of life. What are we good for to others, unless we have heart ourselves for what is worthy, and are trying to be and do something for whatsoever is true, honest, pure and lovely, and of good report? A man is worth little or nothing to others unless he is earnest for worth in itself. What more frequent cause is there of the too frequent flatness of what passes for society, than the want of earnestness in its members, the prevalence of a monotonous mediocrity of thought and manner, which makes people uninteresting because they are not interested in much of any thing sensible or elevating? How much power there is in the true companionship to which each brings the zest of his own pursuit, the enthusiasm of his own favorite aim, and all are made wiser and happier by the thought and spirit of each. Part of the influence of such friendship is seen at once in cheerful looks and renewed courage. The better part is not seen, for wherever persons really in earnest meet together, no matter what their calling or topic may be, there is a power among them, that brings their heart into closer relation with the eternal heart, and whether conscious of it or not, men go away confirmed in faith--deepened, whatever their creed, in the sense that God is, and his spirit is abroad among his people.

The nobler their pursuit or their habitual aims, the greater power do friends give and take by their earnestness--the better the spirit which they bring to their personal intercourse. They are more interesting as individuals, as they are mutually interested in matters above themselves, and instructive and attractive to each other. Every honorable interest unites those who cherish it, and beautifully has Jeremy Taylor said, "He that does a base thing in zeal for his friend, burns the golden thread that ties their hearts together." Of every honorable interest the quaint old poet's saying upon honor itself holds good:--

I could not love thee, dear, so much,
Loved I not honor more.

What earnestness for every generous aim filled the heart of him who sat at the table of communion, inflamed the earthly minds around with heavenly faith and fervor, as he bade them be one with him in God, after he had said, "I have called you friends." Blessing repeated in some measure where any sincere and earnest people interchange thoughts and feelings! Blessing written on all true companionship since Jesus lived and died!

Need we add kindness to sincerity and earnestness as essentials of friendship, for is it not implied? Implied, certainly, although there is a certain kind of earnest sincerity, that lacks the tenderness which this word expresses. It expresses none other than the crowning grace of charity in its familiar application. Kindness, genuine and between persons of congenial minds, watchful to yield its balms and dews, when fortune is sharp or the world is a weariness, instant ever with a sympathy unaffected and unobtrusive in trouble and in joy--living commentary upon the sacred sentence:--

"A faithful friend is the medicine of life,
And they that fear the Lord shall find him."

Then griefs by being communicated are less and joys greater. "Indeed," says South, "sorrow like a stream loses itself in many channels, and joy, like a ray of the sun, reflects with a greater ardor and quickness when it rebounds upon a man from the breast of a friend."

In such kindness there will be an element of magnanimity which will check the selfish calculation that measures regard by gold, and exchanges relations of affinity for bonds of profit and loss. We will not say there is no friendship in trade, but that it is incongruous to make trade of friendship. The more the relation is one of reciprocal sentiment, and the less it is unbalanced by patronage or dependence, the more it moves in its own element and yields its own reward.

The more likely too it is to be lasting, and crown sincerity, earnestness, and kindness, with constancy. Too many things there are to break the unity of our lives, and scatter into fragments our book of experience. Yet some ties we need, and may have, that run their silken thread through its various chapters, and make a volume of the leaves else fragmentary as the Sibyl's. True friends are such ties, and whether of our kindred or not, they can be won by friendliness and kept only by constancy. Some deemed such may fall off and become indifferent, perhaps false, but who that has any heart cannot feel happy in some form of constant kindness, and say with the Scripture and from experience:

"A friend loveth at all times,
And a brother is born for adversity."

Happiness indeed, when as we go through life and take its ups and downs, and look upon its ever-enlarging horizon, we can meet betimes and often some one or more whom we have known from youth, and whose very faces and voices express our best remembrances and hopes. As rising above dull etiquette, we call them by their familiar names, and say William, or Henry, or Mary, or Ellen, grim time seems to drop his inexorable scythe, and the roses that appeared withered in our path bloom out as amaranths of immortality. Power, as well as pleasure, comes from the interview, especially if, under the incentive, noble friendship gives its fascinations to wisdom, and thus stirred we review our lives closely, scrutinize our ways seriously, and our whole experience rises up under a new charm to warn us of evil and urge us to good, ready to say religiously:

"Change not a friend for any good, by no means,
Neither a faithful brother for the gold of Ophir."

Do we think enough of this whole subject of companionship--enough of it for ourselves and our children? In some way, perhaps, we may think enough of being in society, and we may have a sharp eye on our list of acquaintance, be eager enough for the silly race of ostentatious eating, drinking, and dressing, that is the life of our semi-barbarous fashion, or for the frivolous social circles, where friendship is part of the play, and they who flatter each other to the face, laugh at each other as soon as the back is turned; and in perhaps honeyed words character is depicted as sharply as if cannibals had but changed their policy, and brought their teeth to bear in a different way, not upon the flesh but upon the life. Perhaps we have a better ambition, and desire for ourselves and our children the society of the refined, and wise, and good. This is well, but one point must not be overlooked. There is no getting into really good society but by growing into it. We may win entrance to the houses and tables of distinguished people perhaps, but our real friendship with persons of sterling character must depend on our character and culture. Ask honestly--what are we, what have we made and are making of ourselves and our children? And our worth will be the precise measure of the friendship we deserve and are likely to have. Here is motive for the best culture of the mind and heart. A man's own essential character--what he thinks, knows, is, and can do,--it is this that opens to him true companionship, and by a law as universal as that of specific gravity, he rises or falls to his own level. Is it not worth a life's effort to be worthy to win and enjoy the intimate companionship of choice minds?

Do we think of this in the training of our children? Do we try to educate their social affections morally and intellectually--strive to make our houses attractive to sensible people, to give our sons distaste for profligates, and our daughters disgust for fops and fools? Are we laying the foundations of sincere and elevating relations that shall put the due check upon the evil communications that so corrupt good manners? If not, think seriously of the neglect, and do better, as you fear God and love the best in the life he has given us.

Cheerfully, gratefully, leave the subject as we consider what He has done for us, and ask His blessing on all whom we hold dear. God bless our friends! Bless them all in their widest and their inmost circle; bless all the kindly people with whom we have interchanged pleasant words, and who more than the landscape have reflected in any way his light and love; bless all who from age or wisdom have taught us truth and reverence, instructors, guardians, counsellors, pastors, on earth or gone from the earth; bless those nearer sharers of our lot, sincere, earnest, tender, constant companions, whose names are familiar at our table and sacred in our prayers; bless Him, whose gospel crowns all good will with its divine love, and calling all friends who lived in God's love, leaves to all the benediction of His parting prayer: "Holy Father! keep through thine own name those whom thou hast given me, that they may be one, as we are."

Master and Servant.

MASTER AND SERVANT.

We are careful how we treat our equals--very careful how we treat our superiors. Do we think seriously enough of our treatment of inferiors? We ought to think of this, for their sake and our own--for their sake, because they are so much under our own influence; for our own sake, because we deserve just such treatment from those above us as we give to those beneath us? Do any try to escape the latter inference by denying the premises and saying that they are their own masters and ask no favors from any one? This will not do, nor will any petulant rhetoric change the solemn facts of the Divine government. We all have superiors as well as inferiors; in some points we are all masters, in some points all servants.

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It is the law of God certainly, that there should be inequalities of gifts, and from these diverse gifts, whether of talent or opportunity or both, come varieties of place and influence. There is no such thing as perfect equality in the universe, except in the mathematician's calculus, or the metaphysician's theory. Neither God nor man has ever made two things exactly alike, and the diversity that appears between two blades of grass from the same stalk, or two needles from the same mechanism, is of course greater as we rise in the scale to creatures, so various and complex in faculties and discipline as mankind. Think not, however, that this inequality favors pride on the one hand, and sycophancy on the other. The Creator has more wisely adjusted the checks and balances of his government. In some respects, he has made every man dependent upon his fellows. The greatest sage needs to learn something from the peasant, and to receive much from his toil. The king must serve the country which he professes to rule, and the best wisdom of his counsellors must serve the throne. The merest glance at society round us shows an endless gradation of varied service. The ablest lawyer is quite as much bound to devote his talents to his client's cause, as his client is bound to requite his labor. The merchant prince, creditor to many, has creditors also of his own. He that is called in the Lord, being a servant, is the Lord's freeman; likewise also, he that is called, being free, is Christ's servant. In some sense, then, every man is a servant, and in some sense, too, every servant is a master, or in something commands.

Is not this arrangement well? The fact that it is so essential to the Divine government would prove this; but can we not see its good fruits? The difference of relation calls out the various faculties of our being, and life, like nature itself, teaches us to use our eyes and minds by looking and striving above, below, and around. If we would bring out the skill and strength of the hand, we must lift up, as well as hold on, and so, by dealing with things high and low its muscles are pliant and strong. It is the same with all our powers, and there is no man, who is thoroughly educated or brought out, who does not obey as well as command. The motto of the Black Prince, "Ich Dien," "I serve," is written on every true man's standard, and no man is fit to rule who has not learned to obey.

Society in all ages, and especially in our own, has been testing this truth, and nothing is more obvious now than the general striving after a truer adjustment of mutual service. It haunts us at every turn. In the topic of work and wages, it is the problem of the political economist,--in the relation of people and ruler, it agitates every government on earth,--in the question of master and servant, it comes home to every family. Our position towards it now is a very simple and practical one. Carrying out our plan of treating home duties, we come now to the treatment of inferiors, especially those of our own household, or the relation of masters and servants.

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We start with a clear principle, that defines at once the sentiment that belongs to this relation. Both parties have the same essential nature, and we use the term inferiors simply as denoting the fact of service, and the attendants of that fact. The servant may be, and often is, a better man than his master--sometimes a wiser one. Yet his position, in a very obvious sense, is inferior, and whilst having privileges of his own, he is subject in his sphere of service to his master's orders. This subjection implies no surrender of moral dignity. The service should be given as from man to man, and so received; and the difference of position affects the office, and not the moral worth of the parties. Even the bond servant, according to St. Paul, is not to be deprived of his moral dignity, but is to be treated as under God a serving brother. As much as this is asserted now by the moralists of slavery, such as Dr. Thornwell and his school, who maintain that purchase does not make the buyer owner of the slave, but merely of his labor. Surely less than this position, which is so speciously assumed to justify bond-service, should not be allowed to the servant who is freely such. Let the service be what it may, and implying whatever lowliness of gifts, so long as it can be honestly rendered, it implies no degradation; and a good servant is morally to be respected as much as his master. Premising this, and remembering that whatever is said of one kind of service has a bearing upon all kinds, we are ready to look practically upon the duties of the relation.

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It is most profitable for us, in addressing a community who employ so many people in their homes and business, to treat the subject chiefly as it bears upon masters or employers, although in doing this the duty of servants must needs be implied. This is implied, certainly, in the position which we lay down at starting, when we say, that it is the master's duty first of all, to have in himself the fidelity which he requires from his servant. Here both parties meet, and are called to be trusty. The best examples and the plainest reasonings establish this ground. Does a great commander, like Washington, send an officer or soldier upon some difficult expedition, he asks of his inferior to be true to the principle which he accepts, and his whole tone and manner says, "I serve the country in my way, and so do you under my orders and in your way." Our Saviour himself cherished the very allegiance which he required of his followers; nay, he grounded its obligation upon the very nature of the Divine mind, when he bade them work, while it is day, and said, "My Father worketh hitherto, and I work." Whenever a master or employer takes lower ground than that of mutual trust, he puts himself below his servant. If he professes only to follow his own caprices, and yet asks his servant to be faithful, he exacts fidelity, whilst he cherishes caprice, and so in the moral scale takes a place below his inferior.

He thus fails of setting the true example of trustiness to his servant, and of having, by due fellow feeling, proper consideration for him. He is like the harsh creditor in the parable, who, having first been a reckless defaulter to the king, after having begged forgiveness for the enormous debt of fifteen millions, turned at once upon his poor fellow-servant, took him by the throat, and had him cast into prison for the paltry sum of about fourteen dollars. He was a treacherous man, and so could neither reasonably demand fidelity, nor have fellow feeling for honest misfortune. His lot is due to every man who repudiates his solemn responsibility to God and his neighbor, yet insists upon utter deference from those beneath him in a capricious tyranny, which is far beneath faithful service. Every household should learn the lesson, and wherever its most favored members do not feel the solemn obligations of life, and live for objects beyond their own caprices, they are rebuked by their very exactions, and should be shamed by the very fidelity they ask. A true family will set this matter right by teaching practically, that no wealth, nor station, nor elegance, nullifies responsibility, and its daily method will prove that the doctrine of stewardship is accepted in parlor and chamber before it is preached to the basement and attic. In fact, no true man will be content with being less useful than his servants, and certainly many an affluent and high-minded master meets an amount of responsibility, and does an amount of labor, chiefly mental, perhaps, compared with which the round of domestic service is light. He is in his way trusty, and may well ask his inferiors to be so. It is this spirit only that will effectually procure the service we need, and provide domestics who will be friends instead of mere hirelings; helpers in the care of our children, instead of debasers of their speech and manners; specimens of the good servant, who, says an old author, "is one that out of a good conscience serves God in his master, and so hath the principle of obedience in himself."

Stating thus a duty common to both parties, we pass on to a second point, pressing more directly upon one of them, however, and carrying out the idea already presented. The apostle's words urge it best when he says: "Masters, give unto your servants that which is just and equal; knowing that ye also have a Master in heaven." It is probably needless to urge this point here in its external sense, and insist upon giving fair wages and punctual payment. It may be important for some persons, however, who are so absorbed in their own comfort as to be almost unaware that poor people can suffer from a cause to themselves so trifling, to be reminded that, in dealing with the poor, small sums affect great interests, and that great wrong is done by overlooking the value of a few days of time or wages to people in their employ. A dollar withheld for a week from a needy seamstress, may be a greater harm than the non-payment of thousands to creditors rolling in wealth.

But there is a higher sense of just and equal due. Character is a great thing, and quite as much to servant as to master. Character in service should be sacredly respected, and it is shamefully wronged when men pass sweeping judgment upon a whole class because they have been duped by a portion, or, when in a feeble good nature, they are as tolerant of falsehood as truth, of fraud as honesty. There is, indeed, sad want of veracity and fidelity in the class most frequent in our domestic service--the class by religion and associations almost a distinct caste in our nation. There is also among them much kindness and industry--sometimes wonderful self-sacrifice, and, with all their failings, their place could not well be supplied. The greater their ignorance and obtuseness, the more need of training them to a sense of right by setting a bounty upon good character. It is a foul wrong to commend the thievish or lazy, in order to be rid of them, or withhold due name to the faithful, in the hope of retaining their services. Certainly the ages in which loyalty was the crowning virtue have abounded in examples of devoted service, and our own anomalous and unsettled times are not without countless instances of like temper. Now, as of old, the apostle's word is remembered by many: "Whatsoever ye do, do it heartily as unto the Lord, and not unto men; knowing that of the Lord ye shall receive the reward of the inheritance. But he that doeth wrong shall receive for the wrong which he hath done, and there is no respect of persons."

Just to servants in appreciating their character, we are to yield them due privileges favorable to character. We shall not, then, voluntarily hurt them by their ready disposition to copy their masters' failings. We shall not then, by our white lies, give them the material which so readily turns black by a little wear. We shall not deal in inuendos and irreverence, that so easily become ribaldry and blasphemy in passing to less dainty lips, nor yield to an excess at our tables, which teaches drunkenness to coarser palates. We shall be unwilling to disturb for our dependents the quiet which we ask for ourselves on the Lord's Day; and therefore shall dispense with needless feasting or riding on that day, shunning the too frequent error of increasing our hospitality in entertaining guests by the sacrifice of the religious privileges of our servants, and of estimating the social respectability of a church by the number of rational souls who wait at its door in companionship with horses, while lords and ladies sit or kneel on downy cushions at the altar to speak of communion with Him who is no respecter of persons, and of the utter damnation of all the unbelieving and ungodly. The good master, says Thomas Fuller, remembers the old law of the Saxon king Ina: "If a villain work on Sunday by his lord's command, he shall be free."

Nor should this regard for the character of servants end in mere negations. They should have the positive influence of a Christian temper in the family, and, when arbitrary creeds do not prevent it, they should have liberty to be present at such family devotions as may be held for the edifying of the household. So do we interpret justice in this relation in its bearing on fortune and character. Some might think our view very defective, from leaving out the element of entire social equality. If by this be meant a recognition of the moral worth of faithful servants, we make the recognition, and deem them the equals of all whom they equal in character. But, if social familiarity be the test of equality, it is answer enough that this is a matter of congeniality or elective affinity, and nothing could be more arbitrary and unjust than to force persons into a familiarity for which their education, tastes, and labors disqualify them. Such a course would comport as little with justice as with mercy.

Mercy,--rest upon that word. We have said that both parties should be trusty, and have urged justice upon the master especially. We now add, that he should merciful.

We are all frail and erring, and need great forbearance for ourselves. Why be unwilling to bestow it on the less favored? We all make some mistakes, and how can we expect the less intelligent to be freer from error? Why be irritated if every thing is not done precisely to our liking? They that forbear threatening may win better service by that fact, for nothing so provokes carelessness and disheartens effort, as the impatience that regards a mistake as a crime, and brands an oversight as an insult.

We ourselves are variable in health, spirits and energy, and must make allowance for the like variation in persons probably less disciplined than ourselves. We may show due consideration without fickleness, and kindness without familiarity. Cruel, indeed, is the wrong that confounds the fidelity that is struggling to do well in spite of temporary illness, with the idleness that wantonly neglects any well-known duty. Some misgivings very kind people may reasonably have in regard to servants in feeble health; and the Christian charity of a community will continue very deficient until they, who render faithful service, are cared for better in private houses or proper institutions in seasons of sickness.

Upon this subject we are apt to speak too arrogantly when we contrast our domestic manners with those of persons burdened with bond servants, and to call him as of necessity a tyrant who may be more than ourselves a protector. In our just condemnation of slavery, remember that much kindness lightens its bonds; and, remembering too, the millions of dollars in legal property which masters have relinquished, when we preach, as we may justly do, stern self-sacrifice to others, learn well that the duty of caring for inferiors has applications quite as solemn under a Northern as under a Southern sky.

It is common, I know, to talk of the ingratitude of inferiors and the thanklessness of mercy. Alas! there is enough in our own hearts to justify misgivings, and when we think how ingrate we are, we may look more with pity than bitterness upon the indifference with which so many receive favors, sometimes making their very constancy the plea of insolent demand. Nevertheless, mercy will not be without reward, and, in due season, will penetrate with its own spirit minds sadly blunted by harsh usage. Hand in hand with judgment and rectitude, it will win here below the promised blessing, and obtain its own beatitude for its giver.

Mercy,--what is it but humanity--love in its downward look, the look with which Jesus went about among men? Looking thus downward, the soul sees a verdure, and rejoices in a genial light and warmth not found in any proud star-gazing: for the best blessing of heaven is reflected upon its lowly gaze. Mercy,--he who comes short of it, comes short of his neighbor and his God. It is the ground of all devotion. The home where it dwells not, dwells without God in the world. More than can be expressed in any act, we need it; even an abiding sentiment, broad as our race, deep as our need. Looking upon a criminal, a blunt preacher said; "There goes John Newton, but by the grace of God." Says an old divine: "Well may masters consider how easy a transposition it had been for God to have made him to mount into the saddle that holds the stirrup, and him to sit down at the table who stands by with the trencher." Looking upon our inferior any where, let us have something at heart which says: "Friend, brother, true I am better off in this world's goods than you, but whether fortune or desert has made the difference, that fact does not decide, and, whether deserved or undeserved, my superiority teaches humility, not pride--responsibility, not arrogance."

Review now the course of meditation upon the more direct home duties. We treated of ties of nature in speaking of parents, children, brothers and sisters; of ties elective in speaking of husbands and wives, friends; and now we add the last class of elective ties, by passing from relations of equality to that of master and servant. We have cherished through these pages a degree of home feeling together, and in some points our various experiences must have accorded. Such subjects cannot be treated with any sort of fidelity, without touching some deep convictions and sacred remembrances. They have solemnity and also cheerfulness, telling of vast privileges to impress momentous duties.

Thus onward do we go,--not alone, but with companions, superiors, equals, inferiors--all giving and taking influence; if we will have it so, God with us through all and in all. If superiors inflame ambition, let them teach respect; if equals make our enjoyment, let them move our good will; if inferiors tempt our pride, let them kindle our benevolence. We cannot cherish this spirit in vain. A kindly heart will win from the lowly many a blessing, and develope many a power. Among the thoughts that give peace to a man's dying pillow, none will be sweeter than the remembrance or image of those whose lowly condition he has bettered, and asked no reward of the world. Since Christ has lived, rich indeed has been the heavenly treasure laid up by such compassion towards those who bear the world's heavy burdens and have few of its smiles. Forgetting them, we forget our Saviour, who made their cause so his own, and we repudiate our share of His blessing upon the faithful servant!

The Divine Guest.

THE DIVINE GUEST.