The battle of life

by A. L. O. E.

Customers now entering the shop, Martin took his place behind the counter and served them, while Mrs. Laver carried off Annie to the little back parlour. The woman was sullen and out of temper; she foresaw that struggle which must take place, sooner or later, in every home, where two who are not agreed on the most important of subjects, are coupled together as man and wife.

"There will be no peace her; I can see that well enough," muttered Ann to herself. "He'll be pulling one way, I pulling the other; but let him drag his very life out, he'll never get me to follow him in his methodistical ways!"

The jerk which followed this resolution was more defiant than usual.

"There will be no peace here!" How often had that painful thought crossed the mind of Martin, as he had lain in the hospital ward, silently resolving, at whatever cost, fully to follow the Lord.

Feeling too weak in health to be able to battle against a woman's violent will, yearning for the quiet, and comfort, and love, which can make even a humble home such a holy and happy place, Martin had looked forward with something like dread to the constant domestic struggle which was likely to follow any attempt on his part to lead a consistent life. Laver could better, far better, have borne even persecution from without, than the constant jarring with the woman whom he loved, which seemed likely to embitter his life. It was as one who girds himself and prepares for a painful conflict, that Martin, on returning to his home, resolved from the very first to confess his principles openly, to take his stand on the ground of conscience; and while acting with consideration and gentleness towards his wife, never to yield to her a single point where his duty to God was in question.

Martin had not, however, much opposition to encounter on that day of his return, which chanced to be the last of the week. Perhaps Ann's heart, for she had a heart, had warmed towards the husband of her youth, who had suffered so patiently and long; perhaps the sight of that pale sunken cheek roused a feeling of pity within her. Ann kept truce on the first evening, and gave only a look of careless indifference when Martin asked aloud a blessing at his meal, with his Annie's little hands tenderly folded within his own.

Annie was very unwilling to quit her father when Mrs. Laver, in her quick sharp manner, told her that it was time to come to bed, for that she could not keep her eyes open. Those blue eyes filled with tears, little arms were clasped round Martin's neck, and he only prevented the child from bursting out crying, by a promise to come in a little while, and give her a good-night kiss. Mrs. Laver carried Annie upstairs, and Martin was left alone with his thoughts.

"That child is as a piece of my heart, dearer than my life!" reflected the parent. "Helpless and weak as she is, able to do little more than lisp my name, that very helplessness and weakness only serve to make her more dear! She can, at least, cling to me—and love. How gracious is God to compare His own tenderness to that of a parent! 'Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear Him.' And all that God requires of us is just what a parent requires of a child, faith, love, and obedience."

There was a proof of love and obedience which Martin knew it to be his bounden duty to give; but he, like many other fathers of families, especially those who are married to worldly wives, felt it to be a duty very difficult to perform. For some little time before going to the hospital, Martin had found the comfort of private prayer, but he had never yet ventured to propose family prayer to his wife. Martin knew that it would be well to begin the custom on that night; delay would not only be wrong, but would increase the difficulties before him.

Laver reproached himself for the repugnance which he felt to entering upon the subject to Ann. Were they not one in the sight of God and of man? Should they not be one in their hopes and their actions? But Martin knew too well that, in all that regarded religion, he and his wife were not one, but severed by a great gulf.