Rathfelder's Hotel

by Annie E. Bosworth

"Very soon she opened her whole heart to me—young people are always willing to confess—acknowledging her previous utter want of religion, which made her, she said, the selfish, heartless, unamiable girl she was, and concluded by begging me to forgive her for all the unfeeling neglect—so she termed it—and want of kind consideration toward me which she had shown during my deep distress. She spoke with a gentle, blushing contrition of manner very unlike her usual self-satisfied style, and which to those who love and care for her was infinitely gratifying to witness. Nor have that winsome tone and mien passed away. In her case the seed had not fallen by the wayside, nor on stony places, nor amongst thorns, but on good ground, where it still grows and flourishes, abundant in blossoms and fruit and promise of rich future harvest."

"Hum!" ejaculated Mr. Hedding, apparently not very ready with an answer. "I don't see, myself," he went on, after a pause, "that a girl properly brought up and taught to be polite and kind to her friends needs any other style of instruction, nor do I think she would. It's bad bringing up—that's the fact of it."

"Everybody can tell you—she can tell you herself," said Mr. Frere—"that, as far as advice, warning, instruction and the most perfect human example can go, Charlotte Marlow was, and that far beyond your limited meaning, properly brought up and taught to be kind and polite to every one. But it too often happens that the true significance and value of what we hear and see and receive every day is not recognized until some unlooked-for circumstance occurs which opens our eyes and makes us feel. Now such was Charlotte Marlow's case; and thus it comes about, doubt the truth as you like, that from having been an off-hand, unpleasing, selfish young creature, living entirely for her own gratification—as unpleasing at least as so handsome and not really heartless a girl could be—she has become a generous, amiable, sympathizing woman, herself, instead of holding as before always the first place in her thoughts, now occupying the second."

"Well," objected the other, but in a less confident tone, "I feel certain I could bring up a girl to be as kind and polite to every one without the least help from religion as any Christian of them all, and more so, for the matter of that."

"Yes, you might educate them to be perfect in politeness while the world's approving or condemning eye marks their conduct, but when position shuts that out, or time or circumstance renders it uncared for, what remains then to influence their feelings and behaviour the right way?"

"Habit," replied Mr. Hedding.

"Habit?" repeated Mr. Frere, laughing incredulously. "If you ever have met or ever do meet with a single young person, man or woman, who from habit only, when unseen by others, is amiable and polite in opposition to temper, interest or inclination, you will certainly be the first man who has witnessed stability on a 'foundationless practice,' for that is all, in truth, which a habit formed on such principles as yours would or could be. Why, I have heard you yourself argue that no harm existed in any evil unless it was found out; and I know that that sentiment is entertained and practiced by many of your way of thinking—a sentiment which you must excuse my saying in plain, honest words is but the lowest quality of caution, and would ultimately degrade the immortal souls of men to a level with the mere instinct of beasts. Now you must be well aware that according to your own express opinions so you would educate a child, and, alter the deteriorating nature of things, so that child would unchecked become even worse than yourself. Is it likely, therefore, that habit of any kind, when interfering in any degree with pleasure or comfort, would have power to control a spirit under no rule but the world's opinion?"

At that instant other friends joined the two speakers, and it was from them that I afterward heard what had passed.

And now I must lay down, my pen, having completed as far as necessary the little account of our visit to Rathfelder's Hotel.

It is now many years ago. I do not know if Rathfelder's Hotel still remains, or what changes may have taken place in that region, but there must be some of the older residents of Cape Town who remember the incidents of the latter part of the narrative. This record of former days I give in the sincere hope that it may in the perusal prove of some benefit to those young readers who, as Lotty and I were, are living in any way without proper thought of God or of their earthly benefactors, be they parents, relatives or Christian friends. They are blessings—the greatest blessings heaven can bestow—and as such should be regarded. In no slight degree do Charlotte and myself thus consider dear old nurse Susan, who still continues, in as high force as heretofore, our friend and servant. Nor does she with advancing years hate an iota of that authority which her long established rule over us has given her, and which authority seems to increase in its influence, instead of lessening. Good, excellent old body! may God's blessing ever be with her!