Sincerity.
“Emma,” said Mr. Robinson to his daughter, “I could not help feeling hurt to-day at the very cool way in which you greeted your cousin. I thought my child was warm and affectionate, and had, besides, an especial love for Eliza.”
“So I have, papa,” replied Emma, blushing, “and I should have expressed pleasure, only I had just said I hoped no one would come to prevent my writing some letters this morning.”
“But, my love, that is a poor affection which could not stand such a trifling self-denial.”
“Indeed, papa, you do not understand me: I did not at all mind relinquishing my intention, and I thoroughly enjoyed my cousin’s company.”
“Then why did you not receive her joyfully?”
“Simply because I was afraid of being insincere. To speak so differently in the space of a few minutes, I thought would be like the man who blew hot and cold from the same mouth.”
“Oh, now I see and respect your motive; but still, Emma, it was a mistaken one. Were you really pleased to see Eliza?”
“Oh yes, papa.”
“And could you have had your choice, which would you have liked—to keep the morning to yourself, or to spend it with her?”
“To spend it with Eliza; because I can write to-morrow, and she could not come again this week.”
“Well, then, without the slightest insincerity, you might have said, ‘I am glad to see you.’ And even in cases less clear and decided, a well regulated mind, schooled in habits of self-denial and attention to the feelings of others, will find sincere pleasure in gratifying those feelings, even at the sacrifice of its own wishes. Instead, therefore, of lowering our expressions to suit a selfish heart, let us pray and strive after that Christian sweetness, which will enable us to use pleasant words and looks of kindness, without being chargeable with hypocrisy. Indeed, the law of kindness, thus dwelling upon our lips, may prove a means of imbuing our hearts with a similar spirit. The inward feeling and the outward manner will act mutually, strengthening each other. In future, therefore, Emma, do not hesitate to manifest that amiability, which I feel assured it is your desire to possess. While, on the one hand, it is a blessing to have such a strong sense of uprightness as makes the conscience tender; on the other hand, we shall find it important to have our ideas of duty well defined, lest conscience, being needlessly shackled, should become a timid or even an erring guide.”
“I view the matter now, papa, in its true light, and will try both to feel and appear agreeable. But, really, when staying with Mrs. Merlin, I did see such turns, and twists, and contradictions, often occurring in the course of five minutes, that, in order to avoid such despicable deceit, I have almost run into the opposite extreme. Of course, I have mentioned the subject to no one; for it would ill become me to remark on the conduct of an elder and superior, who has always treated me kindly: though, for ought I know, my visit might have been very unpleasant. But may I, papa, tell you the curious history of the refusal of an invitation, the day after I arrived, and ask you what you think of it?”
“Certainly. I have just said it is important to have well defined views of right and wrong, and shall, therefore, be most happy to assist in forming yours.”
“Well, then, papa, we were walking in the garden after breakfast, when a note was brought to Mrs. Merlin; she glanced her eye over it, and then, turning to me with a smile, said, ‘How perplexing! I wished to enjoy you entirely to-day; I have several things to show you; but Mrs. Morley invites us to dinner, and I have already declined her favors three times. What shall we do? You have a cold.’
“I replied, ‘I should greatly prefer a quiet afternoon with you, but I have no cold that deserves to be named.’
“Mrs. Merlin stood for a few moments gazing up into the clouds, with the note in her hand; then all at once, in a very animated tone, she exclaimed, ‘Oh, we can manage it; only look how heavy the clouds are. I shall press your slight cold into my service, and say, if it be fine, we will give ourselves the pleasure of going; but should it rain, our friend must kindly excuse us. Rain it will; so we shall please ourselves, and not displease any one. The visit might have proved tolerably agreeable, but we shall spend our evening much more pleasantly at home.’
“The answer was dispatched, and afterwards, as we came in from a drive, Mrs. Merlin said to the servant, ‘James, watch the weather, and let me know the moment it begins to rain.’ The rain came just in time to serve our purpose. So when Dr. Merlin returned from his medical round, we sat comfortably down to dinner; in the midst of which, my first surprise began. ‘We were invited to Mrs. Morley’s to day, dear,’ said Mrs. Merlin; ‘but I knew you would be tired, and not fit to go, and I should not have liked to leave you alone, so I declined it.’
“The doctor thanked her with a grateful smile, which I could not help thinking was very little merited. Trifling, however, was this variation, compared with the hypocrisy of the following morning, when Mrs. Morley herself happened to call. I looked so provokingly well, that Mrs. Merlin was forced to say ‘she really hoped my cold had almost departed; but, being an only child, I was such a precious charge, that she sometimes felt almost a nervous responsibility. I told my friend,’ continued she, ‘what an agreeable visit it would be, and charged James to watch the weather to the very last minute.’ Now, papa, both these assertions were, in a sense, verbally true, but do you not think, in reality, they were falsehoods?”
“Most assuredly. I would not knowingly have placed you under such influence upon any consideration. I cannot feel sufficiently thankful, my love, that you were not contaminated. The reaction produced on your mind is harmless, compared with what assimilation would have been. We will take care how we subject Mrs. Merlin again to such a nervous responsibility.”
“Yet, papa,” observed Emma, half frightened at the decision with which her parent spoke, “Mrs. Merlin is uniformly kind to me; and she is often an improving, and always a most entertaining companion. The society, too, which I meet there, is calculated to impart a little polish, of which I have considerable need.”
“No, Emma, I would not give a farthing for such varnish. May your character shine throughout with Christian brightness, springing from the cultivation, not the destruction of principle. I thought more favorably of Mrs. Merlin; for with characteristic dexterity, when conversing with me, she has suited herself to my taste. Even now, however, I would not speak with severity; she has been brought up under much disadvantage, and possibly persuades herself that these subterfuges are harmless, polite, and ingenious. I trust one day she will judge more correctly; but in the mean time I should grieve to subject you to such familiarity with deceit as might lessen your abhorrence of it. I can never consent to any future intimacy with Mrs. Merlin, till I have reason to regard her as a recipient of that grace, which teaches truth in the very heart. You remember the hymn, Emma,—
‘Let those who bear the Christian name
Their holy vows fulfil;
The saints, the followers of the Lamb,
Are men of honor still.
Still with their lips their hearts agree,
Nor flattering words devise;
They know the God of truth can see
Through every false disguise.
They hate the varied hosts of lies,
In all their crooked lines;
Firm to the truth until they rise
Where truth resplendent shines.’
“And now, my child,” continued Mr. Robinson, “let us turn our inquiries upon our own hearts.
‘Does no dark sign, no ground of fear,
In practice or in thought appear?’
“How strange it is that we, who have such high notions of integrity in our intercourse with our fellow-creatures, should so often fail in our transactions with Him before whom all things are naked and open, and who will accept only the worship of the heart. O, my child, when our prayers, our praises, our duties, are laid in the balance, what must be said of them all?”
“They are found wanting,” replied Emma, with deep and solemn feeling.
“Most wanting,” said her father emphatically; “corrupt fruits from a wild and poisonous tree. Let us then take those hearts which God’s word and our own experience declare to be deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked—let us take them to the fountain opened for sin and uncleanness, even the blood of Christ, which cleanseth from all sin. Without his precious atonement and perfect obedience to the divine law, how ruinous must have been our guilt; how utterly naked and destitute our souls! But can we hope that they are pardoned and accepted? Let us seek, also, their daily renewal; continuing instant in prayer, and watching thereunto with all perseverance, let us unsparingly detect all their crooked ways, and pray that the spirit of holiness and truth would work in us to will and to do of his good pleasure. O, how can we sufficiently magnify that complete and great salvation, which redeeming mercy offers to our fallen race? Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for He hath visited and redeemed his people! And blessed be his glorious majesty forever; let the earth be filled with his glory, and let the whole world say, Amen!”
“I do say Amen, papa,” rejoined Emma, fervently; “and I do hope I am truly thankful for those instructions which have shown me the value of spiritual blessings, and taught me also that in simplicity and godly sincerity I ought to have my conversation in the world.”
S. S. S.
“That’s a very bad cough you’ve got, friend Smith.”
“Yes, neighbor Jones, but it’s the best I’ve got!”
The man who is guilty of the theft is frequently the first to cry, “Stop thief!”