University of Virginia Library

THE REVERSE.

Cotton.

“Have you heard the news, that Mr. Thomas
Talmage has failed?” said Miss Cutts, entering a
neighbor's house with a shawl hastily thrown over
her head.

“You don't say so!”

“Yes, yes. Every thing is gone. They are just
as poor as any body now.”

“I always said it would be so. Now he will be
for taking the benefit of the Bankrupt Act, and living
just as grand as ever, and his poor creditors may
go whistle for their pay. No matter about them.”

“But they say he has sold his horse, and given up
all the goods in his great store, and boasts that he'll
pay every cent that he owes, and this afternoon he
is going to sell all his wife's furniture at auction.”

“Why, she must be real angry, I declare. Was
he necessitated to do it, do you suppose?”

“I can't exactly say as to that. Likely he'd be
glad of a little money to put in his pocket after his
debts are paid, and so he sells his wife's things to
get it.”

“That's it, I've no doubt. But come, let's go to
this auction. Money, to be sure, is pretty scarce

these hard times; but I guess I'll raise a little, for I
do so want to see the inside of that smart house.”

“Well, I'll call for you just at two o'clock. Be
sure to be ready, for there'll be a crowd, I expect.
I can't say but I should like to see how these grandees
look, when they come down to be as poor as
other folks.”

With these benevolent intentions, the two ladies
proceeded, at the first ringing of the small auction
bell, to the dwelling in question. Quite a throng
soon collected there; some desirous to inspect a
mansion to which they had never before been able
to gain admittance, others resolved to purchase, provided
they could get articles far below their real
worth. In various recesses and corners of the ample
house there was much gossiping.

“Now, do tell if that is Miss Tom Tammage?
Why, her gingham gown is not a bit better than
mine, and her hair is just as plain as a pike-staff.”

“I railly supposed nothing but the silks and the
satins would answer her purpose. Well, she has
had her day. I always knew that top-knots must
come down.”

“I wonder how she'll relish trudging in the mud
like my darters. They are full as good as she, I
reckon, though they have not been brought up to
have a gay horse, and gig, and driver too, at their
beck.”

In the mean time, the fair young creature, who
was the subject of this discussion, with her calm

brow, and more graceful in her plain, neat dress,
than in the costliest array, was ready to render her
aid, or reply to any interrogation that might facilitate
the sale of their effects. Possibly she was not
prepared for all the rude remarks of selfish dealers,
or to see so minutely illustrated the graphic description
of the King of Israel: “It is naught, it is naught,
saith the buyer; but when he goeth his way, then he
boasteth.”

“I take it that bed is under the usual weight, Mr.
Auctioneer!”

“Fifty-two pounds.”

“And the bolster and pillows?”

“Nine and a half.”

“I guess they are nothing but old feathers put
into new ticks,” said a waddling old lady, who was,
however, eager in bidding thirty-five cents a pound,
thirty-five and a quarter, thirty-five and a half, and
so on, until she conquered, at thirty-nine and three
quarters, her competitors, and at a convenient time
extolled the excellence of the article she had so studiously
decried.

“The state of them Brussels carpets is a shame,”
said a busy personage, whose daughter, contemplating
matrimony, was eyeing them with irrepressible
desire. “Miss Tom Talmage never had a chick or
child to wear out any thing, and I'm sure they're
desp'ate defaced. Look! look!” (bending double
and peering through her spectacles) “is not that an
ile-spot? And them 'ere marble-topped tables are

considerable out o' fashion;” hastening, however, to
purchase them, and superintending their removal
with an inward chuckle of delight.

A similar struggle went on among persons of
lighter purses, concerning the kitchen utensils.
“You can't in conscience ask much for that lot of
worn-out tins, Mr. Auctioneer. They are scoured
up pretty bright for the occasion, but they are e'en-a-just
ruined, for all that. The major part of them
arn't worth carrying home, I declare.”

The shrewd housekeeper who secured them was
heard to say to her husband that evening, that she
had made a grand bargain, and got them at about a
quarter of their true value; and, while she extolled
her own sharpness, added, “She'd be bound the people
who sold them, would not get as many more good
things to eat, as had already been cooked in them.”

The auction was nearly finished, and most of the
purchasers had withdrawn, when a coarse-featured
woman, with a patronizing air, said, in a half-whisper,

“Miss Tammage, you ha'n't got a new gound or
two, have you, that you'd sell cheap?”

Mr. Talmage colored, and drawing the hand of
his wife within his arm, would have led her away;
but with a sweet, confiding glance, and a few whispered
words, she assured him, and he gazed at her
with a tender respect, as on a superior being. Her
clear, good sense convinced her, that her wardrobe
comprised some articles which, in the changed state
of their fortunes, would be both useless and inappropriate,

and with perfect good temper she produced
them. The lady minutely examined their fabric and
fashion, professed both to be in fault, and vastly inferior
to what she expected, yet, after cheapening
them to the lowest point, possessed herself of them,
and exhibited them afterward to her friends who
called as some of the “trappings which the proud
Miss Tom Tammage, the broken marchant's wife,
was glad enough to sell.”

When night came, the house of Mr. Talmage was
stripped both of its ornaments and comforts. It was
empty, but not deserted, for in it were hearts sustained
by the consciousness of rectitude, and firmly resolved
in duty; hearts united in love, submissive to
the Divine will, and strong to strengthen each other.
The former master and mistress of this once elegant
mansion, sat together upon a coarse joint-stool, near
a few coals in the kitchen grate. A candle, placed
in the neck of a bottle—for every lamp and candlestick
had been sold—and a little ink in the bottom of
a broken tea-cup, aided them in the arithmetical calculations
which they were busily making.

“Husband, am I right?” said a clear, animated
voice; “am I right? My little account-book here
gives a result that we are able to pay all our debts.”

“Yes, dearest, all, every one in full; and this auction
leaves us a little surplus.”

“God be thanked! What heartfelt happiness!”

“But, Mary, how different must our mode of life
be from what you have been accustomed to, and the

prospects that you had a right to encourage at the
time of our marriage. I could not bear to see that
costly and tasteful furniture, which I can never replace,
taken away from you. Those beautiful sofas,
on which you used to love to rest after a long walk,
cost me many a pang.”

“See if we will not be just as happy without them.
Indeed, if God pleases, we will be a great deal happier
than ever we have been. A life of fashion is
not agreeable to either of us. To tell the truth, I
have long suffered anxiety, not that I thought we
were inclined to extravagance, but our situation
forced us to many useless expenses, and the pressure
of the times on mercantile effort made me so
fear that some misfortune would come, and leave us
unable fully to pay our debts. Now no human being
will suffer by us.”

“Yet we have but a mere pittance left.”

“Never mind; it is our own. Poverty is better
than unjust gain. I would not like to tread upon
nice carpets, and feel that those whom we owed were
reproaching us. How sweetly shall we rest to-night,
every claim discharged, and the injunction obeyed
to `owe no man any thing, except to love one another.”'

“I bless God for your fortitude, for your cheering
smiles. They put new life into me.”

These expressions of commendation and love, so
dear to the heart of a wife, were interrupted by a faint
knock at the door. A poor boy was found standing

on the threshold, who had occasionally been employed
in the lower services about the store or the house.
He was in tears, and with faltering words expressed
his desire to live with them. He said he had no parents,
no friends able to take care of him, and that
the voice of the kind lady, who had sometimes spoken
to him when he brought a parcel, reminded him
of that of his dead mother.

“We are poor ourselves now, my boy,” said Mr.
Talmage. “We can do nothing for you. We are to
move away in a few days.”

“Please to let me go with you; please do!”

The lady looked imploringly at her husband.

“What, my Mary?”

“Let us take him, and trust that He who feedeth
the sparrows will not fail to provide for the orphan.”

The husband assented, more because his wife desired
it, than from any conviction of expediency.
Poor Richard thankfully received a portion of the
baker's loaf which had been left from their evening's
repast, and slept soundly on the temporary bed the
kind lady spread for him.

The next week the family became residents of a
distant, agricultural village. They rented a few
acres of land, and a small tenement, furnished only
with what was necessary for comfort. Yet the perfect
neatness that reigned there was beautiful; and
when the occupations of the day were past, and by
the bright lamp, Mr. Talmage read aloud from some
one of the books which they retained as chosen companions,

his wife seated by his side with her needle
or knitting-work; the beaming smile, the animated
remark, the occasional song, involuntarily bursting
forth, showed how serene and sincere was their enjoyment.
A summer or two spent in the country
during his youth had given him a taste for rural
employment; and now freedom from the harassing
cares of business, with a life of simplicity and active
exercise, imparted a degree of health which he had
never before enjoyed. His wife also found her elasticity
of spirits proportionally heightened, while the
charge of her household, her earnestness to learn the
policy, and promote the welfare of the poultry and
bees—whom she styled her own immediate subjects
—and her interest in all that her husband undertook,
particularly in the pursuits of horticulture, occupied
her both usefully and pleasantly. Richard proved
himself an invaluable assistant, having considerable
knowledge of practical agriculture, acquired by passing
his early childhood on a farm, while his gratitude
to his benefactors prompted the most untiring efforts.

The state of society, as is often the case in our
agricultural villages, was marked by intelligence,
morality, and a disposition for friendly intercourse.
The new-comers were greeted with kindness, and
ready to reciprocate it, and to take part in those social
duties which give due exercise to the tender
Christian sympathies. Their moderated desires embraced,
at first, only the prospect of a living, free
from debt, with the satisfaction of being able to aid

those who might need their charity. More than this
came, almost without their seeking. As from principle
they wasted nothing, their small gains annually
accumulated, until they became owners of the spot
where they were originally tenants, and which had
constantly been improving under their occupancy.
Thus years fled away, until faithful Richard, desiring,
with their entire approbation, to marry a deserving
young woman, it was decided to intrust to their
tenantry the place hitherto occupied, and erect a new
habitation on some land recently purchased.

Soon a tasteful cottage reared its white front on a
neighboring knoll, with a lofty walnut-grove for a
background. An acacia-hedge, intermingled at regular
intervals with the graceful sumach, bordered its
sloping lawn; and the fruit-trees, which had been
prospectively planted, were in full prosperity. Flowering
shrubs and vines imbowered the lovely mansion,
clustering roses adorned the winding gravelwalk,
and a noble, drooping elm, in patriarchal majesty,
spread its broad arms over the rustic gate. The
traveler often paused to admire the symmetry and
simple elegance of the building, and the quiet repose
of the shades that imbosomed it.

There, still in those habits of rural industry which
promote and preserve health, but in the enjoyment
of all the leisure they could desire, and which they
so well knew how to render improving both to themselves
and others, their time passed in felicity and in
love. The lady of the cottage, as years flowed on,

delighted more and more in the society of the young
of her own sex, because she felt that it was in her
power to do them good. The inhabitants of the village,
knowing that she had enjoyed the advantages
of a superior education, were anxious that such of
their daughters as had attained sufficient age to appreciate
its value, should profit by intercourse with
her. Yielding to their solicitations, she consented
to give them regular instruction in the studies and
accomplishments that were to her familiar. Four
afternoons in the week, she saw her parlor pleasantly
filled with the bright faces of the young whom
she loved, and by whom she was beloved in return.
While imparting to their docile minds the healthful
aliment of knowledge, she was sometimes led silently
to contrast the pure, unostentatious pleasure which
she thus enjoyed, with that period of wasting excitement
when the splendor of her dress, or the elegance
of her entertainments, won the adulation of a heartless
throng, she herself wearied and ill content with a
profitless existence. Striving to prepare her pupils
for the faithful and graceful discharge of every feminine
duty, she earnestly impressed those precepts
of morality and piety, whose sustaining influences
she had from her youth experienced. Some of her
favorite lessons were, that there may be happiness,
respectability, and influence, without wealth; that
the pursuit of it, as the main object of life, is mistaken
and dangerous; that all expenditure beyond income
is injustice; and that to live in luxury upon
the property of others, withheld from them against
their will, and to their inconvenience or suffering,
is a sin against conscience, of which no consistent
Christian could be guilty. “Pay your debts, my
dear young friends,” she would say, “and when you
have husbands, do not lead them into extravagance,
but be their helpers.”

The good she accomplished, and the affection she
acquired by her judicious labors as a teacher, could
not be bounded by this fleeting existence. And as
the husband and wife, arm in arm, walked, at the
close of day, around the grounds, which every year
became more beautiful, they said to each other,
“How much higher enjoyment have we here found
than great riches, with their cares and dangers, could
have afforded; and how superior is the quiet rest of
an approving heart to the pursuit of those shadows
which the gay world calls happiness.”