CHAPTER X. THE RECEPTION PARTY. "In the festive hour, refine Gracious Saviour, hear!' THURSDAY was fine again, all the more lovely for the rain, the grass had taken a richer hue, and the wattles shook out rare perfume from their golden blossoms. All nature wore a livelier aspect, and seemed to rejoice; and such a gush of bird melody arose from hill and vale, that it was worth while to have endured a few clouds and rain storms while such were the results. And so it is with the Christian the clouds may thicken and loom over his sky; the rude storms of time may shake him to the very foundation; but he knows that the clouds will pass away, the sun will break through the darkness, and the time of the "singing of birds" will come, for the sunshine of God's love is eternal! Emily Owen had thoroughly enjoyed the last two days, for she had had plenty of her husband's the weather had been so fine company, and that they had taken two or three little excursions together; not to pay visits, that was left for the following week, but just quiet little drives, to view the country. Mr. Owen had given his wife plenty of views of Glen Ness from different points, and she had learnt by those distant views to recognise the different houses, and knew already something of the history of their inhabitants. Then, on Wednesday evening they had driven to chapel, for it was Glen Ness service night; and there she had a very happy evening indeed. Free from the excitement and tremor of a first appearance, she sat quietly in her pew drinking in the words that so eloquently came from her husband's lips; wondering at herself meanwhile that she should be so honoured as to be his wife. How unworthy she seemed, how almost impossible it appeared to her that she could ever really help him in his work; and yet, timid little wife as she was, she had already commenced her work, when encouraging forward one who was seeking the Lord, seeking in solitude. How much good she had done by her few simple loving words, she little knew. And how frequently are these quiet, almost unconscious, workers made a blessing: how often a single sentence uttered in a loving spirit becomes most truly the "bread cast upon the waters, found after many days." The Lord has many of these quiet labourers in His harvest, sighing, maybe, that they are doing so little for Him, though, unknown to themselves, they are winning souls to know and love Him. Even while Emily was sadly thinking how little calculated she was to be a minister's wife, a help meet to Gilbert, he, on listening to her simple recital of her evening with Maggie Gordon, was thanking God for the helper He had bestowed upon him, the sharer in his work-rejoicing that he was no longer alone in any sense of the word. Thursday was a lovely day. Spring had brought out the blossoms gloriously; the ground was mingled green and gold. How lovely the hills looked in their verdant dress, soft, luxuriant. From the house-door Emily could see the thick cherry-tree boughs, beneath which she had enjoyed more than one seat—“Gilbert's study," as she named it ever after. It did her good to see the rich green leaves, for it brought many thoughts to her mind; thoughts of the sermons that had been studied there before she became his wife thoughts of those yet to be studied. And Thursday was the party at Mr Gordon's. "I thought, Gilbert, you did not much approve of parties," said Emily rather archly, as late in the afternoon they began to prepare for this first formal invitation. "I do not, generally," he replied, with a smile; "or rather, I should say, not the generality of parties. I esteem them usually as a mere waste of time, if nothing worse can be said of them." "But the parties you are likely to be asked to will not deserve this character, surely, dear Gilbert." "Not the one we are going to to-night, Emmy; but I have been invited and I have unknowingly accepted the invitation, where it has been absolutely pain for me to stay and this amidst professing Christians! I do not mean in Glen Ness, but elsewhere, dear: so do not look so grave. I remember one evening particularly; the invitation had been most pressing, the host and hostess were both members of a church, and regular attendants at its services; I could do nothing less than accept it, but, my dear little Emmy, I soon wished myself back again at home. As it was I could only sigh, look grave, and remember what worthy John Bunyan tells us about 'religion in her silver slippers.' "Why-what was done? and were you the only minister there?" "I was not: the minister of the church to which my friends belonged, sat by-very complacently looking on - throwing out occasionally some quiet sarcasm about strait-laced people, and people 'righteous overmuch,' for my especial edification, I presume. There were many young people present, and for their gratification our complying hostess got up a little dance. 'It was a quiet, innocent amusement,' she whispered apologetically to me. She did not approve of public balls-oh no! but this was so very different, so private and select, only friends;' and her pastor confirmed her in her opinion by replying-Young people must not be mopes.' 66 "Then, after the dancing, came song after song, till at last, sick at heart, and weary with an argument on the subject that I got up with this same worldly pastor, I left the place." "And can this be Christianity!" exclaimed Emily, sadly. "No, my love:- Christianity is pure love for Christ. Love that seeks to do His will; to follow Him, and not the world. But, alas! there is too little F of this in the present day; too much seeking to win the love of the world by sinful compliance. What would Paul say could he see many of our professors now, who little regard his message-' Come out from among them and be ye separate.' What would our Puritan fathers say, could they but witness this amalgamation of religion with the world, this installing one foot in the church, the other in worldly pleasures.' As I tell you, dear Emily, it is the reign of silver slippers.' To profess Christianity is creditable, and there are not wanting those who declare not only that separation from the world is unnecessary, but wrong. 'How can we expect to win them to our religion,' they say, 'if we keep aloof from them?' And with this false sophistry they smooth over their own participation in the worldly delights they have professed to leave, and lay entirely on one side the Saviour's words, If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him.'" The red glow of evening had given place to the sober, short-lived twilight, as Emily and her husband drove off from the little gate in their way to the Gordons'. They took the same road they had traversed twice before-round the hills, and so on into the village. The lights were here and there sparkling among the foliage at Hawthorn Vale, and in the grey, murky light of evening (for the moon had not yet risen) the pillars of a verandah and the tall chimneys gleamed white in the distance. "We have our visit to pay there yet, little one. I would not willingly offend Mr. and Mrs. Spencer, for I take great interest in the young people." |