Look on the sunny side

by Ruth Lamb

I thought with deep sorrow of that poor young wife who, having a very real trouble to battle with in the intemperate habits of her husband, had made it greater and him far worse by her own ungoverned temper and bitter words. And oh, what a touching contrast did the example of the patient old woman present! It is hard, terribly hard, to be linked for life to a drunkard; to have a miserable home and ragged children, where peace, comfort, and plenty ought to reign. But surely, where a woman's own intemperance of language has tended to make bad worse, conscience must speak with a stern accusing voice; unless by long neglect she has succeeded in silencing its pleadings.

I was once describing these two contrasting pictures to a poor friend, whose husband—a good workman, and in the receipt of large wages, often had fits of intemperance which lasted for several days at a time. She listened to my story and said, "Ay, it's all very well to speak about having clean hearths and bright homes and pleasant looks for your husband. But how much does he see or notice when he comes in half blind with drink? I tell you, missis, there are men who, with kind wives, clean hearths, and pretty innocent children round them, would leave their homes if they were as grand as the Queen's, and find their pleasure in a public-house."

I knew that her home was a pattern of neatness, and that her well-trained children would have been a credit to a mother in any station of life.

The tears were streaming down her cheeks as she spoke, and I knew too how bravely she had fought, aided by a better strength than her own, against this great trouble. I held her honest hand, rough with household toil, in mine, and honouring with all my heart this true wife and mother, I said to her, "How much worse might things have been, if you had acted like that young woman in her mad passion? If you had taunted and aggravated your Tom, he would not have stayed in his downward course. He has never struck you, or given you bitter words and oaths. He has never come in and made you cower and tremble before him, and his terrified children run to hide themselves."

A true helpmeet.

"No, never, poor fellow! He always slinks into the back kitchen in a shamed sort of way, as if he couldn't bear the little ones to see him, and I just get him to bed as quick as I can; for I can't bear that they should despise their father. He never gave me an ill word or a blow in his life; but when the fit is over, he doesn't know how to be sorry enough, or to work hard enough."

"Ah, Margaret," I answered, "that tells me your prayers and your labour have not been in vain. You have done your duty by your husband, even when he has failed; and you have withstood temptation in one way, when he has yielded in another. Go on, brave heart, in God's strength. Still strive, pray, and wait. It may be the will of your Heavenly Father to make you the instrument of winning your partner to the Lord's side. You will never drive him into what is good; but the cords of love are powerful to draw and to bind, and 'what knowest thou, O wife, whether thou shalt save thy husband?'"

We bade each other good-bye, and Margaret went homeward, I trust not the less hopeful for our little talk together. At any rate, a smile had chased away the tears, and she was enabled to see that her domestic cloud had still a silver lining, black though it might be at times. And thank God there is no cloud so dark behind which the eye of faith cannot discern the rays from Him who is the Sun of Righteousness.