"That Shabby Little Party."

Thames Star, Volume XIV, Issue 4425, 10 March 1883, Page 1

"That Shabby Little Party."

By Aunt Peactiqaii.

CHAPTER I. HUBEBT.

"Not many lives, but only one, have we,

y One'J only one; How sacred should that one life ever be,

) That narrow span! Day after day filled up with blessed toil, Hour after hour still bringing in new spoil." ——. „ „ _ ■ __ JLj-— -^Oj"m*«______' Over the fair city, the queen of the Waitemata, rested the tranquil hush of Sabbath cairn ; not a sound disturbed the quiet peaoefulness of the scene, as Hubert Clifford leaned over the verandah of Sea View Cottage, looking out upon the waters of the Ibay. 'i was early yet, the suo had but just risen in his beauty and strength, shedding a golden halo over the blue waves that danced and rippled, as if in welcome to the king of day. As he stood there in the sunlight of that early Sabbath morning, Hubert, : Clifford's thoughts reverted to a far different scene, and this was the question a still small, voice seemed to whisper in his ear, " Doest thou well to be idle ? What is thy mission in this bright, beautiful world, that lies bathed in summer sunshine at thy feet P What is the work He who hast s done all things well hath appointed thee to do?" Like an ever-changing panorama passed before him scenes of his boyhood and youth, when he had been so fondly cared for and watched over by a widowed mother, whose cares and anxieties had been shared, and as much as possible lightened, by a gentle, thoughtful, unselfish presence,. in the h person of his sister, the patient, forbearing Mabel, Who had deemed it no sacrefice thus to devote her young life to those who needed her unselfish services

Beautiful and accomplished;—like the sighing of the summer breeze cam© the memory of her sweetness, her ffentle nobility of character, to the brother, who had not proved himself quite worthy of such loviDg care.

One there bad been, Hubert remem< bered vividly, who had sought to win this lovely flower to wear in his bosom, to cherish with all the strength and chivalry, of a true manly heart, but Mabel had covered her grief with a smile, and bidden him forget' that he had loved one whom filial duty forbade to linger at the sparkling fountains of love or dcligbt, and thus they had parted, and no one knew what had caused the tender light to fade from those clear blue eyes, or the bloom to fade from .the rose-tinted cheek of sweet Mabel Clifford. Patient and gentle as ever, she took up her self-imposed burden, and toiled, watched, waited on, and cared for her invalid mother and of times reckless brother.

' The scene changed. Hubert's eyei filled with tears as in. imagination he again stood in the silent room where the Death angel waited to bear away the patient soul of the faithful mother whose cares and pains alike would cease, whose heart should know sweet, perfect peace. , "Call me not 'Death,' but 'Best,'" whispered the dark-winged messenger, and casting off his sable robe ho stood repealed to the wondering soul, a beautiful shiny form, whose Beraphic features beamed with, lore and tenderness, as he gently disengaged the stricken form of the sufferer from the thorns of sickness and pain that held her to earth, and wafted her on bis snow white pinions into the presence of the Father. . ■ With a blessing on her lips, and & sweet calm upon her placid brow, the

gentle ipini paarttt:.^- j;= aud Mabel and Hubert, stood alone in the world. Again the scene was changed, aod Hubert beheld himselfa reckless youth, vr-I ■■"? the mon°tony. of the.country life that surrounded him, impatient of hi« sister s gentle pleadings and remonBtrances; eager for a glimpse of that wide world whose " bitter apples " he had not yet tasted. V . On board, the Sea Nymph he saw himself a light - hearted, careless sailor boy, revelling in the comparative .freedom of bis new life, and -joyous -in the anticipation of its^ varied scenes and experiences. Mabel, dear, patient Mabel, had given - him her little all, to provide him with his outfit, and with a fervent "God bless you, Herbert, b6 steady and trusty for mother's sake," had bidden him farewell on the deck of the noble vessel that was destined never more to return to the white»cliffed shores of old England. Storm-tossed, disabled, cast ashore, saved, befriended, Herbert had found himself at last in the

land of his boyhood's dreams, the beautiful Britain, of the South, and since that tirfe 'of : deprivation and sickness, had found employment at a shipwright's, where he had been kindly received, and bade fair to secure Dame Fortune's smile, and obtain a respectable livelihood. Fire years had passed away since he had been rescued by a passing wbaler as he clung with the desperation of despair to a floating spar of the ill fated Sea Nymph and Herbert had written, repeatedly to his native village, in the hope of hearing tidings of Mabel, but to his deep regret and contrition, his letters bad been returned, and he supposed the faithful heart that had sacrificed so much for him, to be resting peacefully beneath the daisies. And he?—was just drifting on, with no purpose in life, unstable as water, fickle as the summer breeze—yet always intending to be, and to do, to accomplish something for which •ociety should thank and, reward his efforts, always dreaming of the bright vista of the future while he allowed the present precious hours to slip past him, unheeded and unimproved. And now, as the soft hash of Sabbath morn brings back to his heart the memory of that time, when with Mabel he had rambled in the quiet woodland, or strolled down the shady Janes, wheD the overhanging trees almost met above their heads, when the happy birds made,the sweet summer air all jubilant with melody. In imagination he hears the soft cadence of the church bell, and emerging from the leafy shelter, sees the neat, white building, with its simple spire, where the sunshine loves to glisten, and the soft zephers of the summer breeze play with the gilded weathercock that adorns the steeple, the voice of the past cries out to him in tender warning that the present is fleeting, fleeting, and the present is full of uncertainties and hidden trials." The tide is coming in, and the white flecked waves dash playfully nearer, and nearer the shore, scattering their fleecy foam upon the sandy beach, rising surely, steadily; towards high water mark. Yes, somewhere in Hubert's memory there awakens an echoe to this thought " pressing toward the mark," and he remembers the last Sabbath spent in old England when the good old pastor had bidden him farewell, and given him this motto, " Press toward the mark." A moment longer ~he~ lingered, while the sunbeams danced on the glistening waves, and the lark-, trilled forth her morning song of melody in the azure sky. Then, with a sigh, the young man turned away, for not

yet could he decide to " put his hand to > the plough "—not yet! not yet! As Hubert entered the house, the sound of . cheerful voices and merry laughter met his ear, and presently a young lady entered the pleasant sitting-room, exclaiming—-' , ■■■ ..- :u . „ " Well, Mr Clifford, how did you enjoy your morning ramble; you are quite a reproach to us lazy folks, who have but just risen." "Indeed, Miss Whittard," replied Hubert, "my rambles have been very limited this morning. I must not take credit where it is not due. I have been simply enjoying a reverie on the verandah, watching the rising tide." " And dreaming sweet little daydreams, I suppose," rallied Miss Wittard, '• in which a certain young lady of our acquaintance figured rather conspicuously." - - ... Now Herbert was only, a very young man/not only in years, but' in the ways and usages of-society, and this allusion to his weak point, an early, rather precipitous, as well as. , altogether unreciprocated attachment to a young lady who bad been the guest of his patrons, the Whittards, during the Christmas holidays, brought the vivid blush of confusion to his youthful countenance, and bowing a parting reply to his pretty, assailant, he hurriedly left the room.

"What a shame, "Mildred," exclaimed

a ..voice,, and looking, round, Miss Wittard became, aware of the presence of her younger sister, who had, unobserved, by either, quietly entered the room, and overheard the brief con vers at ion. " Upon my word, Lucy," replied her sister, "one . would almost think . you were smitten yourself with this weak-minded, would-be lOTerjb'f Miss Clara Meredith's,; I neither said nor meant any harm, I'm sure." " Wijllf Mildred, everybody is not so strong-minded as yourself, and I think you might show a little more consideration for the weakness of others, without in the least lowering yourself in their esteem or your own.!' • ■ = • " That's right, little champion, take up the cudgels bravely for the weaker side," and two broad palms were placed on Lucy's shoulders, while with an earnest look of approving affection, her brother Ralph added,' "perhaps young Clifford may prove himself worthy of your championship even yet, I believe he only needs an impetus; there is good metal in that fellow, but.it needs drawing out, clearing of the debris,, and refining, ah! perhaps even as silver; " he added slowly, •"• there have been some of the noblest characters formed from such material as now lies dormant in' Hubert's mind." Mildred,- had -left thef room, for of all things she disliked to bo " lectured," as she termed it, by Ralph, whose thoughts were apt to. "T soar ; above the present moment's joy or sorrow, and to partake of the poetical and sublime. "Oh Ralph," said Lucy, "I hope you do not think that the discipline of sorrow is nbcessary to . the formation of a noble character, because"—and for a moment the gentle "girl laid her golden head on head on her brother's arm. in a silence more eloquent than words. . , "Let me finish the sentence for you. little one," replied Ralph, gently stroking the ibiny, tresses from her fair brow,

" because you fear this implied discipline, you shrink from the possibility of sorrow for yourself or your loved ones; but remember, Lucy, the promise is, • As thy day, lby strength shall be,' and tbe assurance of the Man of Sorrows to his loved disciple is, • My grace is sufficient for thee/ Be still,, little ■"trembler, and res,!; in His love who knoweth what is best, what is just the fittest preparation for that higher, nobler life that is bid in Christ, with God."

He stooped his . manly form, and softly kissed her cheek and brow, and little Lucy stood still, watching him, as he left the room, and passed out into the garden,! down the little white path that led to the tiny summer house that often served as a study for the young student, who was training for that highest, noblest work of man, the Ministry of the Gospel. To-day, Ealph was to preach his first sermon in a neighboring church in the enforced|absence of the pastor on account of serious illness, and the heart of bis loving little sister was filled with varied feelings of hope, pride, and joy, as she watched his retreating figure. ." I only wish dear mother had lived to see this day," thought Lucy, as she busied herself in the preparation of breakfast, and carefully considered her father's preference for well made coffee, and the most delicate little plate of eggs and toast.

Meanwhile, Hubert Clifford had 'run against' young Frank, a regular jollyhearted schoolboy, whose taste for acquatic sports equalled Hubert's own, and who could hardly refrain (though it was Sunday morning) from discussing the merits of certain swimming and diving apparatus he had just become acquainted with. However, the usual summons to breakfast, and a pleasant savor of ham and eggs, directed his attention to more immediate requirements, and be rushed off to the house to render himself presentable at table.

Bye-ind-bye the family (inclusive of Hubert Clifford) repaired to the little church, when Mr Whittard suddenly became: conscious of a weakness in his eyes, and a peculiar huskiness in his voice, as "his boy "stood up for the first time to deliver the message of good tidings. ?

Very tenderly, very pathetically,, Ralph told the simple story—so old, yet ever new—of His love and faithfulness who " changeth not," and little Lucy listened, pondered, and took courage; while Hubert silently resolved " to consider this matter/ and "see if there were any beauty in Him, that He should be desired of men, this Jesus of Nazareth, his mother's Saviour.

( To be Continued. )