Charlotte M. Yonge, BOSTON COLLEGE' LIBRARY CHESTNUT HILL, MASS. TO E. B. H. THIS LITTLE BOOK IS MOST LOVINGLY DEDICATED. EDITED BY CHARLOTTE M. YONGE. 33593 PREFACE. This little book is a translation from a col- lection of devotional thoughts published in France under the title of “Paillettes d’Or.” It is necessarily a selection, since the gold dust which suits French readers requires a fresh sifting for the English; but the value of most of the thoughts seems to me well to deserve the term of gold. There are many who will much enjoy having this little collection on their table, so as to be able to take up and dwell upon some one of its grains at leisure times throughout the day’s business. C. M. YONGE. Feb. 1 2th, 1880. 5 INTRODUCTION. In the South of France, during the summer, little children and old and infirm poor, who are incapable of hard work, in order to earn a livelihood, employ themselves in searching the beds of dried-up rivers for “Paillettes d’Or,” or golden dust, which sparkles in the sun, and which the water carries away as it flows. What is done by these poor people and little children for the gold dust God has sown in those obscure rivers we would do with those counsels and teachings which God has sown almost everywhere, which sparkle, en- lighten, and inspire for a moment, then disap- pear, leaving but regret that the thought did not occur to collect and treasure them. Who is there that has not experienced at some time in his life those teachings so soft and gentle, yet so forcible, which make the heart thrill, and reveal to it suddenly a world of peace, joy, and devotion? It may have been but a word read in a book, or a sentence overheard in conversation, which 7 8 INTRODUCTION- may have had for us a twofold meaning, and, in passing, left us touched with an unknown power. It was the smile on the lips of a beloved one whom we knew to be sorrowful, that spoke to us of the sweet joy of resignation. It was the open look of an innocent child that revealed to us all the beauty of frankness and simplicity. Oh ! if we had but treasured all the rays of light that cross our path, and sparkle but for a moment ; oh ! if we had but engraved them on our hearts ! what a guide and comfort they would have been to us in the days of discour- agement and sorrow; what counsels to guide our actions, what consolations to soothe the broken heart! How many new means of doing good ! It is this simple work of gathering a little from every source — from nature, from books, above all from mankind itself — that is the intention of one of your fellow-creatures, dear souls, you who long so to make your lives more holy and devout! And in the same way as the gold dust, gath- ered and accumulated from the river’s bed, was the means of bringing a little profit to the INTRODUCTION. 9 hearth, so would we endeavor to carry a little joy to your hearts and peace to your souls. Gather then these little counsels: gather them with watchfulness: let them for a mo- ment penetrate deep into your heart; then scatter them abroad again, that they may go with their good words to the help of others. They will not be importunate, will not even ask to be preserved; they do not desire fame; all that they seek is to convey a transient blessing. GOLD DUST I. “My Lord!” exclaimed once a devout soul, “give me every day a little work to occupy my mind; a little suffering to sanctify my spirit; a little good to do to comfort my heart .* 1 II. If by our deeds we become saints, true it is that by our deeds also we shall be condemned. Yes, it is little by little that we press onward, either toward salvation or eternal ruin; and when at last we reach the gate of glory, or that of perdition, the cry escapes our lips, “Already!” The first backward step is almost impercept- ible ; it was those tiny flakes of snow, seeming to melt as they touch the earth, but falling one upon another, that have formed that immense mass which seems ready to fall and crush us. Ah! if I tried to trace back, to what first led to that act of sin ; the thought that produced 12 GOLD DUST. the desire ; the circumstance that gave rise to the thought, I should find something almost imperceptible; perhaps a word with a double entendre I had heard, and at which I had smiled, a useless explanation, sought out of mere curiosity; a hasty look, cast I knew not wherefore, and which conscience prompted me to check; a prayer neglected, because it wearied me; work left undone, while I in- dulged in some day-dream, that flitted before my fancy. . . . A week later, the same things occur, but this time more prolonged; the stifled voice of conscience is hushed. Yet another week. . . . Alas! let us stop there; each can complete the sad story for himself, and it is easy to draw the practical conclusion. III. A young girl, in one of those moments when the heart seems to overflow with devotion, wrote thus in her journal: — “If I dared, I would ask God why I am placed in the world ; what have I to do? I know not; my days are idly spent, and I do not even regret them. . . . If I might but do some good to myself, or another, if only for the short space of a minute in each day!” A few days later, when GOLD DUST. 13 in a calmer mood she re-read these lines, she added, “Why, nothing is easier! I have but to give a cup of cold water to one of Christ’s little ones.” Yes, even so small a gift as that, but given in God’s Name, may be of service, and gives you the right to hope for a reward in heaven. Even less than that: a word of advice; some- thing lent to another ; a little vexation patiently borne; a prayer for a friend, offered to God; the fault or thoughtlessness of another repaired without his knowledge; God will recompense it all a thousand-fold! IV. Alms given in secret; that is the charity which brings a blessing. What sweet enjoy- ment, to be able to shed a little happiness around us! What an easy and agreeable task is that of trying to render others happy. Father! if I try to please and imitate Thee thus, wilt Thou indeed bless me? Thanks! thanks! be unto Thee. V. Is it fair, always to forget all the good, or kindness shown to us, by those with whom we live, for the sake of one little pain they may 14 GOLD DUST. have caused us, and which, most likely, was quite unintentional on their part? VI. When you sometimes find in books, advice or example, that you think may be of service, you take care to copy, and consult it as an oracle. Do as much for the good of your soul. Engrave in your memory, and even write down, the counsels and precepts that you hear, or read .... then, from time to time, study this little collection, which you will not prize the less that you have made it all yourself. Books written by others in time become wearisome to us, but of those we write our- selves we never tire. And it will be yours, this collection of thoughts chosen because you like them: counsels you have given yourself : moral receipts you have discovered, and of which, perhaps, you have proved the efficacy. Happy soul! that each day reaps its harvest. VII. Do you wish to live at peace with all the world Then practice the maxims of an influential man, who when asked, after the Revolution, how he managed to escape the executioner’s axe, replied, “I made myself of no reputation, and kept silence. ” GOLD DUST. 15 Would you live peaceably with the members of your family, above all with those who ex- ercise a certain control of you? Use the means employed by a pious woman, who had to live with one of a trying temper, and which she summed up in the following words — “I do everything to please her; “I fulfil all my duties with a smiling face, never revealing the trouble it causes me ; “I bear patiently everything that displeases me; “I consult her on many subjects of which, perhaps, I may be the better judge.” Would you be at peace with your con- science? Let your Guardian Angel find you at each moment of the day doing one of these four things which once formed the rule of a saintly life: — (i.) praying; (n.) laboring; (hi.) striving after holiness; (iv.) practicing patience. Would you become holy? try to add to the above actions the following virtues; — method — faith — spiritual combat — perseverance. Finally, if you would live in an atmosphere of benevolence, make it your study to be always rendering others service, and never hesitate to ask the same of them. In offering help, you make a step toward 16 COLD DUST. gaining a friend; in asking it, you please by this mark of your confidence. The result of this will be a constant habit of mutual forbearance, and a fear to be disobliging in matters of greater importance. VIII. When teaching or working with others, never laugh or make fun of their awkward- ness. If it is caused by stupidity, your laugh- ter is uncharitable: if from ignorance, your mockery is, to say the least, unjust. Teach the unskilful with gentleness; show him the right way to work: and God, Who sees all your efforts, will smile on your patience, and send you help in all your diffi- culties. IX. When the heart is heavy, and we suffer from depression or disappointment, how thankful we should be that we still have work and prayer left to comfort us. Occupation forcibly diverts the mind ; prayer sweetly soothes the soul. “Then,” writes one who had been sorely tried, “I tell my griefs to God, as a child tells its troubles to its mother; and when I have told all I am comforted, and repeat with GOLD DUST. 17 a lightened heart, the prayer of S. Francoise de Chantal (who certainly suffered more than I), ‘Thy will be done for ever and ever, O Lord, without if or but, * . . . . and then for fear a murmur may arise in my heart, I return immediately to my work, and become absorbed in occupation.” X. He who is never satisfied with anything, satis- fies no one. XI. Are there many who try to be of some little help or comfort to the souls with whom they are brought in contact through life? Poor souls, that, perhaps have no longer strength or will to manifest the longing they experience, and who languish for want of help, without being aware that they are perishing. O, mingle sometimes with your earthly help the blessed Name of God; and if there remain one little spark of life in the soul, that Name will re-kindle it, and carry comfort and resigna- tion ; even as air breathed into the mouth of any one apparently dead, rushes into the lungs, and revives the*suffer-er, if but one breath of life remains. Souls! Souls! I yearn for souls! — This is 2 Gold Dust 18 GOLD DUST. the cry of the Savior; and for their sates He died upon the Cross, and remains until eter- nity their Intercessor. Souls! Souls! I must win Souls! — It is the cry of Satan ; and to obtain them he scatters gold to tempt them, multiplies their pleasures and vanities, and gives the praise that only in- fatuates. Souls! Souls! we long for Souls! — Let this be our aim, readers and writers of these our “ Paillettes and for the sake of even one soul, let not fatigue, expense, or the criticism of the world deter us. . . . XII. How few there are who would thus dare to address God each night: — “Lord, deal with me to-morrow as I have this day dealt with others . . . those to whom I was harsh, and from mal- ice or to show my own superiority exposed their failings ; others to whom from pride or dislike I refused to speak, — one I have avoided — another I cannot like because she displeases me — I will not forgive — to whom I will not show any kindness.’ * .... And yet, let us never forget, that sooner or later, God will do unto us even as we have done unto them GOLD DUST. 19 XIII. “Grant me, O Lord,” saida humble soul, “that I may pass unnoticed through the world.” This should be the wish, or rather the aim of all true devotion. Small virtues require the praise of man to sustain them, just as little children require en- couragement to walk or stand alone. But true virtue goes quietly through the world, scattering good around, and performing noble deeds, without even the knowledge that what it does is heroic. XIV. Schantal, one day, was excusing herself to S. Francois de Sales for having spoken hastily to some one, on the plea that it was in the cause of justice. The Saint replied, “You have been more just than righteous; but we should be more righteous than just.” XV. A devout woman once wrote thus: “In my own family, I try to be as little in the way as possible, satisfied with everything, and never to believe for a moment that any one means unkindly toward me. ’ ’ “If people are friendly and kind to me, I en- 20 •GOLD DUST. joy it; if they neglect me, or leave me, I am always happy alone. It all tends to my one aim, forgetfulness of self, in order to please God." XVI. Learning is not without its effect upon the soul ; it either lends it wings, to bear it up to God, or leaves behind it tiny sparks, which, lit- tle by little consume the whole being. If you would ascertain all the good, or ill, you have derived from all those hours devoted to historians, poets, novelists, or philosophers, put to yourself these questions : Since- acquir- ing this knowledge, am I wiser? am I better? am I happier? Wiser?— that is to say more self-controlled, less the slave of my passions, less irritated by small vexations, braver in bearing misfortunes, more careful to live for eternity? Better? — More forbearing toward others, more forgiving, less uncharitable, more reticent in exposing the faults of others, more solicitous for the happiness of those around me? Happier? — That would mean more contented with my station in life, striving to derive all possible benefits from it, to beautify rather than to alter it? GOLD DUST. 21 Have I more faith in God, and more calm ness and resignation in all the events of life? If you cannot reply in the affirmative, then examine your heart thoroughly, and you will find there, stifling the good that God has im- planted, these three tyrants that have obtained dominion over you : — (i.) Pride, (2.) Ambition, (3.) Self-conceit. From them have sprung: — dissatisfaction and contempt of your life and its surroundings, restlessness, a longing for power and domin- ion over others, malice, habitual discontent, and incessant murmurings. Have you any further doubts? then inquire of those with whom you live. Ah ! if this be indeed the sad result, then whatever may be your age, close, oh ! close those books, and seek once more those two elements of happiness you ought never to have forsaken, and which, had you made them the companions of your study, would have kept you pure and good. I refer to prayer and manual labor. XVII. Listen to the story of a simple shepherd, given in his own words: — “I forget now who it was that once said to me: Jean Baptiste, you 22 • GOLD DUST. are very poor? — True. — If you fell ill, your wife and children would be destitute? — True. And then I felt anxious and uneasy for the rest of the day. “At Evensong, wiser thoughts came to me, and I said to myself: Jean Baptiste, for more than thirty years you have lived in the world, you have never possessed anything, yet still you live on, and have been provided each day with nourishment, each night with repose. Of trouble God has never sent you more than your share. Of help, the means have never failed you. To whom do you owe all this? To God. Jean Baptiste, be no longer ungrate- ful, and banish those anxious thoughts; for what could ever induce you to think that the Hand from which you have already received so much, would close against you when you grow old, and have greater need of help? I finished my prayer, and felt at peace.” XVIII. The work of the Sower is given to each of us in this world, and we fall short of our duty when we let those with whom we are brought in contact leave us without having given them a kind thought, or pious impression. Nothing is so sad as the cry, “I am useless!” happily none need ever be so. GOLD DUST. 23 A kind word, a gentle act, a modest demean- or, a loving smile, are as so many seeds that we can scatter every moment of our lives, and which will always spring up and bear fruit. Happy are those, who have many around them . . . they are rich in opportunities, and may sow plenteously. XIX. Few positions in life are so full of importun- ities as that of the mother of a family, or mis- tress of a house. She may have a dozen interruptions while writing one letter or set- tling an account. What holiness, what self- control is needed to be always calm and unruffled amid these little vexations, and never to manifest the slightest impatience! Leaving the work without apparent annoy- ance, replying with a smile upon the lips, awaiting patiently the end of a long conversa- tion, and finally returning calmly to the yet unfinished work, — all this is the sign of a rec- ollected soul, and one that waits upon God. Oh! what blessings are shed around them by such patient souls . . . but, alas! how rarely they are to be met with! XX. There are times in one s life when all the world seems to turn against us. Our motives 24 GOLD DUST. are misunderstood, our words misconstrued, a malicious smile or an unkind word reveals to us the unfriendly feelings of others. Our ad- vances are repulsed, or met with icy coldness; a dry refusal arrests on our lips the offer of help. . . . Oh! how hard it all seems, and the more so, that we cannot divine the cause. Courage, patience, poor disconsolate one! God is making a furrow in your heart, where He will surely sow His grace. It is rare when injustice, or slights patiently borne, do not leave the heart at the close of the day filled with marvelous joy and peace. It is the seed God has sown, springing up and bearing fruit. XXI. That which costs little, is of little worth. This thought should make us tremble. In our self-examination we may experience at times a certain satisfaction in noticing the little vir- tues we may possess, above all, those, that ren- der us pleasing in the eyes of others. For instance, we may like to pray at a cer- tain place, with certain sentiments; and we think ourselves devout; we are gentle, polite, and smiling toward one person in particular; GOLD DUST. 25 patient with those we fear, or in whose good opinion we would stand; we are devoted, charitable, generous, because the heart expe- riences an unspeakable pleasure in spending and being spent for others; we suffer willingly at the hands of some one we love, and then say, we are patient ; we are silent because we have no inclination to speak; shunning society, because we fail to shine there, and then fancy that we love retirement. Take these virtues that give you such self- satisfaction, one by one, and ask yourself at what sacrifice, labor, or cost, above all, with what care you have managed to acquire them. . . . Alas! you will find that all the patience, affability, generosity and piety are but as nought, springing from a heart puffed up with pride. It costs nothing, and it is worthless. As self-sacrifice, says De Maistre, is the basis and essence of virtue, so those virtues are the most meritorious that have cost the great- est effort to attain. Do not look with so much pride on this col- lection of virtues, but rather bring yourself to account for your faults. Take just one, the first that comes, impatience, sloth, gossip, un- charitableness, sulkiness, whatever it may be, and attack it bravely. 26 GOLD DUST. It will take at least a month, calculating upon three victories every day, not, indeed, to eradicate it — a fault is not so short-lived — but to prevent its attaining dominion over you. That one subdued, then take another. It is the work of a lifetime ; and truly to our faults may we apply the saying: — “Quand il n’y en a plus, il y en a encore.” ‘‘Happy should I think myself,” said St. Francis de Sales, ‘‘if I could rid myself of my imperfections but one quarter of an hour pre- vious to my death. XXII. Before Holy Communion. JESUS. My child, it is not wisdom I require of thee, it sufiiceth if thou lovest Me well, speak to Me as thou wouldst talk to thy mother if she were here, pressing thee to her heart. Hast thou none, for whom thou wouldst in- tercede? Tell Me the names of thy kindred and thy friends; and at the mention of each name, add what thou wouldst have Me do for them. Ask much, fervently; the generous hearts that forget themselves for others are very dear unto Me. Tell Me of the poor thou wouldst succor, GOLD DUST. 27 the sick thou hast seen suffering, the sinful thou wouldst reclaim, the estranged thou wouldst receive to thy heart again. Pray fervently for all mankind. Remind Me of My promise to hear all pray- ers that proceed from the heart; and the prayer offered for one who loves us, and is dear to us, is sure to be heartfelt and fervent. Hast thou no favors to ask of Me? Give Me, if thou wilt, a list of all thy desires, all the wants of thy soul. Tell Me, simply, of all thy pride, sensuality, self-love, sloth ; and ask for My help in thy struggles to overcome them. Poor child! be not abashed; many that had the same faults to contend against, are now Saints in heaven. They cried to Me for help, and by degrees they conquered. Do not hesitate to ask for temporal bless- ings, health, intellect, success — I can bestow it, and never fail to do so, where it tends to make the soul more holy. What wouldst thou this day, My child. ... If thou didst but know how I long to bless thee ! . . . Hast thou no interests which occupy thy mind? Tell Me of them all. ... Of thy vocation 28 GOLD DUST. What dost thou think? What dost thou desire? Wouldst thou give pleasure to thy mother, thy family, those in authority over thee, what wouldst thou do for them? And for Me, hast thou no ardor? Dost thou not desire to do some good to the souls of those thou lovest, but who arc forgetful of Me? Tell Me of one in whom thou hast interest; the motive that actuates: — the means thou wouldst employ. Lay before Me thy failures, and I will teach thee the cause. Whom wouldst thou have to help thee? The hearts of all are in My keeping, and I lead them gently, wheresoever I will. Rest as- sured, all who are needful to thee, I will place around thee. O ! My child, tell Me of all thy weariness : who has grieved thee? treated thee with con- tempt? wounded thy self-love? Tell Me all, and thou wilt end by saying, all is forgiven, all forgotten . . . and I, surely I will bless thee! . . . Art thou fearful of the future? — Is there in thy heart that vague dread, that thou canst not define, but which nevertheless torments thee? Trust in My Providence ... I am present GOLD DUST. 29 with thee, I know all, and I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee. Are there around thee, those seemingly less devout than formerly; whose coldness or in- difference have estranged thee from them, without real cause? . . . Pray for them — I can draw them back to thee, if they are necessary to the sanctification of thy soul. What are the joys, of which thou hast to tell Me? Let Me share thy pleasures: tell Me of all that has occurred since yesterday, to comfort thee, please thee, to give thee joy! That fear suddenly dispelled — that unex- pected success — that token of affection — the trial that proved thee stronger than thou thoughtest. . . . My child, I sent it all ; why not show some gratitude, and simply thank thy Lord? Gratitude draws down a blessing, and the Great Benefactor likes His children to remind him of His Goodness. Hast thou no promises to make to Me? — I can read thy heart — thou knowest it; thou mayst deceive man, but thou canst never de- ceive God. Be sincere. Art thou resolved to avoid all occasions of 30 GOLD DUST. sin? — to renounce that which tempts thee — • never again to open the book that excites thine imagination? — Not to bestow thine affection on one who is not devout, and whose presence steals the peace from thy soul? Wilt thou go now, and be loving and for- bearing toward one who has vexed thee? . . . Good, My child! . . . Go, then, return to thy daily toil; be silent, humble, resigned, charitable — then return to Me with a heart yet more loving and devoted, and I shall have for thee fresh blessings. XXIII. “There will soon be none left," said S. Francis de Sales, “who will love poor sinners, but God and myself. ” Oh! why do we fail in love toward those poor sinful ones! Are they not very much to be pitied? When they are prosperous, pray for them ; but when misfortune comes (and trouble weighs heavily upon the wicked), death depriv- ing them of the only beings they did not hate — afflicting them with a loathsome disease — delivering them up to scorn and misery — oh! then, when all this comes upon them, love them freely. It is by affection alone that we GOLD DUST. 31 can reach the worst characters, and the souls that are steeped in sin ! How many have died impenitent, who if only some one had cared for them, and shown them love, might have become at last saints in heaven. Oh ! the sins that are committed ; oh ! the souls we suffer to wander from God, and all because we are so wanting in love toward them. XXIV. Let us always be on our guard against Prej- udice. Some women have a way (of which they themselves are unconscious) of turning the cold shoulder, to some one member of their family. For what reason? they cannot say, simply because the cause is never very clearly defined, and in this lies all the mischief. Perhaps an air of indifference, they may have fancied, and which arose merely from fatigue, or trouble that could not be confided to them : A word misinterpreted, because heard at a time when they felt discontented, and their morbid imagination made everything appear in a false light: Some scandal, to which they ought never to BOSTON COLLEGE LIBRARY CHESTNUT HILL, MASS. 32 GOLD DUST. have listened, or at least, should have endeav- ored to fathom, going direct to the person con- cerned and seeking an explanation. . . . And, behold the result ; they in their turn become cold, reserved and suspicious, misinter- preting the slightest gesture ... in a few days arises a coldness, from the feeling they are no longer beloved ; then follow contempt and mistrust; finally, a hatred that gnaws, and rends the very heart. It all springs up imperceptibly, till at last the family life is one of bitterness and misery. They console, or better still, excuse them- selves, with the thought of their suffering, never considering how much pain they give to others, nor where the fault lies. XXV. Let it rest ! Ah ! how many hearts on the brink of anxiety and disquietude, by this simple sentence, have been made calm and happy ! Some proceeding has wounded us, by its want of tact ; let it rest, no one will think of it again. A harsh or unjust sentence irritates us ; let it rest ; whoever may have given vent to it, will be pleased to see it is forgotten. GOLD DUST. 33 A painful scandal is about to estrange us from an old friend; let it rest, and thus preserve our charity and peace of mind. A suspicious look is on the point of cooling our affection ; let it rest ; and our look of trust will restore confidence. . . . Fancy! we who are so careful to remove the briars from our pathway, for fear they should wound, yet take pleasure in collecting and piercing our hearts with the thorns that meet us in our daily intercourse with one another. How childish and unreasonable we are ! XXVI. Of all the means placed by Providence within our reach, whereby we may lead souls to Him, there is one, more blessed than all others — Intercessory Prayer. How often, in the presence of one deeply loved, but alas! estranged from God, the heart of mother or wife has felt a sudden impulse to say an earnest word, propose an act of devotion, to paint in glowing colors the blessings of faith, and the happiness of virtue . . . and she has stopped, deterred by an irresistible fear of how the words may be received ; and she says to herself, poor woman: “To-morrow I shall be braver . 99 3 Gold Dust 34 GOLD DUST. Poor mother! poor wife! go and tell to your Heavenly Father, all you would, but dare not say to the loved one who gives you so much paiin Lay that sin-sick soul before the Lord, as long ago they laid the paralytic man who could not, or perhaps would not, be led to Him. Plead for him, with the long-suffering Sav- ior, as you would plead with an earthly mas- ter, upon whom depended all his future wel- fare, and say to Him simply: “Lord, have patience with him yet a little longer.” Tell God of all your anxiety, your discourage- ments, the means employed for success. Ask Him to teach you what to say, and how to act. One sentence learnt of God in prayer, will do more for the conversion of a soul, than all our poor human endeavors. That sentence will escape our lips involuntarily. We may not remember that we have said it, but it will sink deep into the heart, making a lasting impression, and silently fulfilling its mission. You are perhaps, surprised, after many years, to see such poor results. Ah! how little can you judge! . . . Do you know what you have gained? In the first place, time, — often a physical impossibil- ity to sin, which you may attribute to chance, Christ as Master, Counsellor and Guide. Gold Dust. GOLD DUST. 35 tut which was, in reality, the work of Provi- dence ; and is it nothing, one sin the less, in the life of an immortal soul? . . . Then a vague uneasiness, which will soon allow of no rest — a confidence which may enable you to sympathize — more liberty left you for the exer- cise of religious acts — you no longer see the contemptuous smile at your acts of devotion. Is all this nothing? Ah ! if while on your knees, praying for the one you would have reconciled to God, you could but see what is passing in his soul ; the wrestlings, the remorse he strives vainly to stifle; if you could see the work of the Holy Spirit in the heart, gently, but firmly triumph- ing over the will, how earnestly, how inces- santly, would you continue to pray ! Only have patience to wait — perseverance, not to grow weary. It is the want of patience, that often makes us exacting, toward those we desire to help. More haste, less speed, is an old saying; the more we are exacting, the less likely are we to succeed. Men like to act freely, and to have the credit of their actions. It is because we have not learnt to persevere, that the work seems never to progress. 36 GOLD DUST. Courage then ! the ground may seem too dry for cultivation, but each prayer will be as a drop of water ; the marble may be very hard, but each prayer is like the hammer’s stroke, that wears away its roughness. XXVII. The sweet peace of God bears the outward token of resignation. When the Holy Spirit dwells within us every- thing seems bright. Everything may not be exactly as we would wish it, but we accept all, with a good grace. . . . For instance, some change, in our house- hold, or mode of living, upsets us. If God is with us, He will whisper: Yield cheerfully thy will — in a little while all will be forgotten. ” Some command or employment wounds our pride; if God is with us, He will say to us: “Be submissive, and I will come to thine aid.” We may dislike a certain neighborhood; the society there may be repulsive to us, and we are about to become morbid ; God will tell us to continue gracious and smiling, for He will recompense the little annoyances we may experience. If you would discern in whom God’s Spirit dwells, watch that person, and notice whether you ever hear him murmur. GOLD DUST. 37 XXVIII. I WANT TO BE HOLY. Heavenly Father, aid Thy child, who longs to become holy ! But then I must be patient under humiliation — let myself be forgotten, and be even pleased at feeling myself set aside. Never mind! I am resolved, I wish to be holy ! But I must never excuse myself, never be impatient, never out of temper. Never mind! I am resolved, I wish to be holy! Then I must continually be doing violence to my feelings — submitting my will always to that of my superiors — never contentious — never sulky, finishing every work begun, in spite of dislike or ennui. Never mind! I am resolved, I wish to be holy! But, then, I must be always charitable toward all around me; loving them, helping them to the utmost of my power, although it may cause me trouble. Never mind! I am resolved, I wish to be holy! But I must constantly strive against the 38 GOLD DUST. cowardice, sloth, and pride of my nature, renouncing the world, the vanity that pleases, the sensuality that rejoices me; the antipathy that makes me avoid those I do not like. Never mind! I am resolved, I still wish to be holy ! Then, I shall have to experience long hours of weariness, sadness, and discontent. I shall often feel lonely, and discouraged. Never mind! I am resolved, I wish to be holy ! for then I shall have Thee always with me, ever near me. Lord! help me, for I want to be holy! HOW TO BECOME HOLY. Oh ! it is quite easy ! if I fulfil every duty, to the best of my ability; and many who had no more to do than I, have become Saints. One day is the same as another. Prayer, worldly business, calls to be devout, charit- able, and faithful : these are the duties that each hour brings in its turn; and if I am faith- ful in their fulfilment, God will be always ready to help me, and then what signifies a little ennui, pain, or misfortune? THE SANCTIFICATION OF DAILY DUTIES. I will perform them, as in God’s sight, con- scious that He is present, and smiling on my efforts. GOLD DUST. 39 I will perform each, if I had but one to accomplish, striving to render it as perfect as possible. I will fulfil each duty, as if upon that one alone depended my salvation. MOTIVES FOR SANCTIFYING MY ACTIONS. God expects me to honor Him by that action. God has attached a special blessing to that action, and awaits its fulfilment to bestow it. God notes each action : and of them all here- after I must give an account. God will see that I love Him, if I strive to fulfil every duty, in spite of weariness and trouble. I honor God by this action, and I, poor, weak, sinful child, am allowed to glorify Him, in place of those who blaspheme, and rebel against the Divine will. XXIX. They say there is nothing which communi- cates itself so quickly amongst the members of a family, as an expression of coldness or dis- content on the face of one of its members. It is like the frost that chills us. This is not altogether true; there is something which is communicated with equal rapidity, and greater 40 GOLD DUST. force — I mean the smiling face, the beaming countenance, the happy heart. XXX. LITTLE WORRIES. There is not a day in our lives, that we are not distressed by some one of those number- less little worries that meet us at every step, and which are inevitable. The wound made may not be deep, but the constant pricks each day renewed, embitter the character, destroy peace, create anxiety, and make the family life, that otherwise would be so sweet and peaceful, almost unendurable. Life is full of these little miseries. Each hour brings with it its own trouble. Here are some of the little worries: — An impatient word escapes our lips, in the pres- ence of some one in whose estimation we would stand well. A servant does his work badly, fidgets us by his slowness, irritates us by his thoughtlessness, and his awkward blunders make us blush. A giddy child in its clumsiness breaks some- thing of value, or that we treasure on account of its associations: we are charged with a mes- sage of importance, and our forgetfulness makes GOLD DUST. 41 us appear uncourteous, perhaps ungrateful: some one we live with is constantly finding fault, nothing pleases them. If, when night comes, we find we have not experienced these little worries, then we ought to be grateful to God. Each of these, and many more, are liable to befall us every day of our life. HOW TO BEAR LITTLE WORRIES. In the first place, expect them. Make them the subject of our morning prayers, and say to ourselves: Here is my daily cross, do I accept willingly? Surely! for it is God who sends it. After all . . . these little troubles, looked at calmly, what are they? Ah! if there were never any worse ! Secondly, we must be prepared for them. You know, if you wish to break the force of a blow falling on you, 3 r ou naturally bend the body ; so let us act with regard to our souls. Accustom yourself, wrote a pious author, to stoop with sweet condescension, not only to exigencies (that is your duty) but to the simple wishes of those who surround you — the acci- dents which may intervene : you will find your- self seldom, if ever, crushed. To bend is better than to bear; to bear, is often a little hard; to bend, implies a certain 42 GOLD DUST. internal sweetness, that yields all constraint, sacrificing the wishes, even in holy things, when they tend to cause disagreements in the family circle. Submission often implies an entire resigna- tion, to all that God permits. The soul that endures, feels the weight of its trouble. The soul that yields scarcely perceives it. Blest are those docile ones : they are those whom God selects, to work for Him. XXXI. TO OBTAIN PEACE. Approach the Blessed Sacrament, O restless soul in search of peace, and humbly kneeling there, pour forth bravely, slowly, and with earnest desire, the following prayer: — O Jesus, gentle and humble of heart, hear me! From the desire of being esteemed, From the desire of being loved, From the desire to be sought, Deliver me, Jesus. From the desire to be mourned, From the desire of praise, From the desire of preference, From the desire of influence, From the desire of approval, GOLD DUST. 43 From the desire of authority, From the fear of humiliation, From the fear of being despised, From the fear of repulse, From the fear of calumny, From the fear of oblivion, From the fear of ridicule, From the fear of injury, From the fear of suspicion, Deliver me, Jesus. That others may be loved more than myself. Jesus grant this desire. That others may be more highly esteemed. That others may grow and increase in honor, and I decrease. Jesus, grant me to desire it. That others may be employed, and I set aside. Jesus, grant me to desire this. That others may attract the praise, and my- self be forgotten. That others may be preferred in all. Grant me the utmost holiness of which I am capable, then let others be holier than myself. Jesus, grant me to desire it! Oh, if God hearkens, — and hearken He surely will, if your prayer has been sincere — what joy in your heart, what peace on your counte- nance, what sweetness will pervade your whole life! 44 GOLD DUST. More than half one’s troubles arise from an exaggerated idea of one’s own importance, and the efforts'we make to increase our posi- tion in the world. Lacordaire says that the sweetest thing on earth, is to be forgotten by 'all, with the exception of those who love us. All else brings more trouble than joy, and as soon as we have completed our task here, and fulfilled our mission, the best thing for us to do, is to disappear altogether. Let us each cultivate carefully and joyously the portion of soil, Providence has committed to our care. Let us never be hindered, or dis- tracted by ambitious thoughts, that we could do better, or a false zeal tempting us to forsake our daily task with the vain desire to surpass our neighbors. . . . Let this one thought occupy our minds. To do well what is given us to do, for this is all that God requires at our hands. It may be summed up in four words: — simply — zealously — cheerfully — completely. Then if we are slighted, misunderstood, maligned, or persecuted, what does it matter? these injuries will pass away ; but the peace and love of God will remain with us forever, the reward of our faith and patience. The love of God! who can describe all the joy, strength, and consolation it reveals? GOLD DUST. 45 Never has human love, in its brightest dreams, been able to form any idea of all the sweetness, the love of God imparts to the soul, and which is brought still nearer to us in the Blessed Sacrament. I can well understand the words of a loving soul: “With heaven so near, and daily com- munion with our God, how can we ever re- pine!” XXXII. After Holy Communion. OUR FATHER WHICH ART IN HEAVEN. O Jesus! it is Thou who biddest me say, Father! My Father! oh how that Name re- joices my heart! My Father! I can no longer feel alone, and whatever may happen to me this day I feel I am protected, comforted, be- loved. Jesus! let me dwell on the sweeetness of those words; My Father! I need not lift my eyes to heaven, Thou art within me, and where Thou dwellest heaven must be. Yes! heaven is within me! heaven with all its peace and love, and if I keep free from guile this day, my day will be one of heavenly joy, and in addition, the privilege of suffering for Thee. 46 GOLD DUST. HALLOWED BE THY NAME. To hallow Thy Name, O Lord! is to pro- nounce it with reverence and awe. To-day I will pray more fervently — try to realize Thy Presence, Thy Goodness, Thy Love, and my heart shall be a sanctuary, into which nothing shall penetrate, that could be displeasing unto Thee. To hallow Thy name — is to call upon it fer- vently, to have it constantly upon my lips ; above all before taking an important step — when there are difficulties to be overcome, I will softly whisper the Invocation, which is the secret of all holy living! “Jesus, meek and humble of heart, have pity upon me.” THY KINGDOM COME. O Jesus, Thy kingdom is within my heart, reign there in all Thy sovereignty and power, reign there absolutely! My King! what dost Thou require of me to- day? Thy commandments, my rule of life, my daily duties, these are Thy commands that I will promise to obey — more than that, I will regard all in authority over me, as Thine Ambassadors, speaking to me in Thy Name. What matters the tone, or the harshness of the order? GOLD DUST. 47 What does it signify if some unexpected command upsets all my previous plans? It is Thy Voice I hear, Thou Lord, Whom I will obey always, and in all things. Thy kingdom is also in the hearts of others ; and there would I see Thee reigning. Then to whom can I speak of Thee this day? What counsels can I give? What moments may I seize, in which without wounding the feelings or parading my zeal, I may be allowed to speak a few words of piety? Lord! let me have the opportunity to help another to love Thee! THY WILL BE DONE ON EARTH, AS IT IS IN HEAVEN. Yes! yes! Thy Will be done! Thy sweet all-perfect Will! What wilt Thou send me to-day? Humiliation? Provocation? Sufferings? A fresh rending of the heart? A disappointment? Shall I see myself misjudged, falsely sus- pected, despised? I accept beforehand, all that Thou sendest me, and if through weak- ness I weep, suffer it to be so — if I murmur, check me ; if I am vexed, correct me ; if hope- less, encourage me. Yes! yes! Let Thy sweet and holy Will be done! Even, O Lord, if to glorify Thee, I must be 43 GOLD DUST. humiliated, suffering, useless and forsaken, still, Lord, stay not Thine Hand, I am wholly Thine. GIVE U3 THIS DAY OUR DAILY BREAD. How blessed, O Lord, to depend only upon Thee. . . . behold me, Thy child, waiting with outstretched hand to receive Thy benefits. Grant me my temporal blessings; clothing, nourishment, shelter. . . . but not too much of anything ; and let me have the happiness of sharing my blessings, with those poorer than myself, to-day. Grant me the blessing of intelligence, that I may read, or hear one of those golden counsels, that elevate the soul and lend wings to the thoughts. Grant me the loving heart, O .my Father! that I may feel for a moment how I love Thee, and Thy love toward me ; let me sacrifice my- self for the welfare of another. Give me the bread of Life. The Holy Eucharist! I have just received it, Lord! Grant me again ere long that great blessing. And then, give all these blessings to those I love, and who love me! FORGIVE US OUR TRESPASSES, AS WE FORGIVE THEM THAT TRESPASS AGAINST US. When I pronounce the word of pardon, what a weight seems lifted from my heart! GOLD DUST. 49 I will not only banish every feeling of hatred, I will efface every painful remembrance. O God, if Thou forgivest me, as I forgive others, what mercy for me! Thou seest I bear no malice, that I forget all injuries. . . . I have been offended by words; I forget them ; by actions, I forget them ; by omissions, thoughts, desires, they are all forgotten. Ah ! in all these ways I have offended Thee, and Thou wilt forget, even as I have forgotten. I will be very merciful, so that Thou mayst have mercy upon me. LEAD US NOT INTO TEMPTATION, BUT DELIVER US FROM EVIL. Now, as I leave Thine altar, I go to en- counter temptation. O Savior! help me, keep me, and warn me of my danger ! Let me shun all occasions of evil, and if by weakness, or allurements, I am led into paths of sin, if I fall, oh ! rescue me speedily, that I may fall upon my knees, confessing my sin, and imploring pardon. Sin! this is the evil from which I beseech Thee to deliver me ; other troubles that may happen, I accept, they atv sent to try me and 4 Gold Dust 50 GOLD DUST. to purify, and come from Thee; but sin, I have no pleasure in it ! Oh ! when in the hour of temptation I fall away, Lord! hearken to the cry that I now raise to Thee in all sincer- ity; I will it not! — it is not wilful! I go from Thy Presence — but, Jesus! Thou art with me. In work, in prayer, in suffering, let all be done in Thee ! XXXIII. “Mother,” asked the child, “since nothing is ever lost, where do all our thoughts go?” “To God,” answered the mother gravely, “Who remembers them forever.” “Forever!” said the child; he bent his head, and drawing closer to his mother, murmured : “I am frightened!” Which of us have not felt the same? XXXIV. One more solemn thought: How old are you? Nineteen. Have you reckoned the number of minutes, that have elapsed since your birth? The number is startling: nine millions, three hundred and thirty-three thou- sand, two hundred. , . . Each of those min- utes has flown to God; God has examined them, and weighed them, and for them you must give account. GOLD DUST. 51 Each minute bears its own impress (as a coin bears the impress of the Sovereign), and only those marked with the image of God, will avail you for eternity. Is not this thought, one to make you tremble? “I never could understand," writes Guerin, "the feeling of security some have, that their works must find favor with God — as if our duties were confined to the narrow limits of this little world. To be a good son, states- man, or brother, is not all that is required of us; — God demands far more than this, from those for whom He has destined a crown of glory, hereafter." XXXV. One great characteristic of holiness, is never to be exacting — never to complain. Each complaint drags us down a degree, in our upward course. By complaining, I do not mean the simple imparting of our troubles to others. Complaint savors always of a little bad tem- per, and a slightly vindictive spirit. The saints were never exacting. Contented with their lot, they never desired anything that was withheld from them. 52 GOLD DUST. “I have asked,” said a holy soul, “for some- thing I thought needful; they have forgotten to answer me ; or perhaps would not bestow it. Why need I be disquieted? If it were really necessary, God would quickly provide means to obtain it.” How few could enter into this feeling, and yet it is but the echo of Christ's own words, “Your Father in Heaven knoweth that ye have need of all these things.” XXXVI. Joy in life is like oil in a lamp. When the oil gets low, the wick is consumed, emitting a black vapor, and sending forth only a lurid glow, which does not give light. A life without joy, passes away unprofitably. shedding around it only gloom and sorrow. If every morning in a simple prayer — in those fifteen minutes' meditation (which only seems hard when we do not practice it) we opened our hearts to God, as we open our win- dows to the sun and air, God would fill it with that calm sweet joy, which elevates the soul, prevents it feeling the weight of troubles, and makes it overflow with benevolence. But joy does not mean levity, witty sayings, or repartee ... it is habitual serenity. Through a clear atmosphere, we can always GOLD DUST. 53 see the sky — it seems so light and full of elas ticity. A serene sky is always pure . . . clouds may pass across it, but they do not stain it. So is it, with the heart, that early in the morning opens to receive God's Peace. XXXVII. •‘You are never out of temper/' was once said to a woman well known to be much tried at home — “is it that you do not feel the injus- tice, the annoyances?’' “I feel them as much as you do,” she replied, “but they do not hurt me." “You have then some special balm?" “Yes, for the vexations caused by people, I have affection; for those of circumstances, I have prayer; and over every wound that bleeds, I murmur the words: ‘Thy Will be done.’ ” XXXVIII. MY DAILY CROSS. If I have no cross to bear to-day, I shall not advance heavenward. A cross (that is anything that disturbs our peace) is the spur which stimulates, and with* out which, we should most likely remain sta- 54 GOLD DUST. tionary, blinded with empty vanities, and sinking deeper into sin. A cross helps us onward, in spite of our apathy and resistance. To lie quietly on a bed of down, may seem a very sweet existence, but pleasant ease and rest are not the lot of a Christian — if he would mount higher and higher, it must be by a rough road. Alas ! for those who have no daily cross ! Alas! for those who repine and fret against it! WHAT WILL BE MY CROSS TO-DAY? Perhaps that person with whom Providence has placed me and whom I dislike — whose look of disdain humiliates me — whose slowness worries me — who makes me jealous by being more beloved, more successful than myself — whose chatter and lightheartedness, even her very attentions to myself, annoy me. Or it may be that person, that I think has quarreled with me, and my imagination makes me fancy myself watched, criticized, turned into ridicule. She is always with me — all my efforts to sep- arate are frustrated — by some mysterious power, she is always present, always near. GOLD DUST. 55 This is my heaviest cross ; the rest are light in comparison. Circumstances change — temptations dimin- ish — troubles lessen; but those people who trouble or offend us are an ever-present source of irritation. HOW TO BEAR THIS DAILY CROSS. Never manifest in any way, the ennui, the dislike, the involuntary shudder, that her presence produces; force myself to render her some little service — never mind if she never knows it — it is between God and myself. Try and say a little good of her every day, of her talents, her character, her tact, for there is all that to be found in her. Pray earnestly for her — even asking God to help me to love her and to spare her to me. Dear companion ! blessed messenger of God’s mercy, you are without knowing it, the means for my sanctification, and I will not be un- grateful ! Yes! though the exterior be rude and repel- lent, yet to you I owe it, that I am kept from greater sin; — you, against whom my whole nature rebels . . . how I ought to love you ! XXXIX. Who is anxious for a beloved one’s eternal welfare? 56 GOLD DUST. We interest ourselves for their success,— their prosperity; we ask God to keep them from harm and misfortune; we try to start them well in the world — to make them of rep- utation — to procure them pleasure. To spare them trouble we sacrifice our own ease and enjoyment. . . . Oh! that is all very beautiful, very right; but what should we do for the soul? Do we pray to God that this soul may become humble, pure, devoted? Do we take as much pains to procure him the little devotional book, that will really help him, as we should to obtain a transient pleas- ure? Do we help him unseen toward that act of charity, humiliation, or self-renunciation? Have we courage, not to spare the soul the trial, that we know will purify? Does it seem too hard for you? Ah ! then you do not know what real love is. Does not God love us? Yet, God lets us suffer; even sends the suffering. Love is given us, to help us onward, nearer to God. The most blessed, is that which draws us nearest to Him; and in proportion as it leads to God, we realize its blessedness. The essence of true love, is not its tender- GOLD DUST. 57 ness, but its strength, power of endurance, its purity, its self-renunciation. The mistake we make, is when we seek to be beloved, instead of loving. What makes us cowardly, is the fear of losing that love. Never forget this: A selfish heart desires love for itself — a Christian heart delights to love — without return. XL. To learn never to waste our time is perhaps one of the most difficult virtues to acquire. A well-spent day is a source of pleasure. To be constantly employed, and never asking “What shall I do?” is the secret of much goodness and happiness. Begin then with promptitude, act decisively, persevere, if interrupted be amiable, and return to the work unruffled, finish it carefully — these will be the signs of a virtuous soul. XLI. Are you full of peace? Pray? Prayer will preserve it to you. Are you tempted? Pray! Prayer will sus- tain you. Have you fallen? Pray! Prayer will raise you. 58 GOLD DUST. Are you discouraged? Pray! Prayer will reassure and comfort you. XLII. The young are seldom forbearing, because they so little understand the frailties of poor human nature. Oh ! if you could only witness the terrible struggles passing in the heart of that friend whose vivacity annoys you, whose fickleness provokes you, whose faults sometimes even make you blush. . . . Oh ! if you saw the tears that are shed in secret ; the vexation felt against self (perhaps on your account), you would indeed pity them. Love them ! make allowances for them ! never let them feel that you know their failings. To make any one believe himself good, is to help him almost in spite of self, to become so. Forbearance is even more than forgiveness ; it is excusing, putting always the best con- struction upon everything; above all, never showing that one proceeding has wounded us, speaking of any one who has vexed us thus: — “she did not think, else she would have acted differently: she never meant to pain me, she loves me too much ; she was perhaps unable GOLD DUST. 59 to do otherwise, and yet suffers at the thought of having displeased me. ’ ’ For a wounded heart, no balm is so effica- cious as forbearance. To forbear, is to forget every night the little vexations of the past day; to say every morn- ing: “To-day I shall be braver and calmer than yesterday. ” Forbearance even some- times leads us to detect in ourselves a little want of good nature, condescension, and charity. To forbear, is not only freely to forgive, but to meet half way, with extended hand, those who timidly ask for pardon. XLIII. My friend, do you know why the work you accomplish fails either to give pleasure to your- self or others? It is because it is not cheerfully done, and therefore appears discolored. A joyous heart, amid our work, imparts to duty a brilliancy, that charms the eyes of others, while it prevents those feeling wounded, who cannot perform it equally well. Joy with us, is like a lever, by which we lift the weights, that without its help would crush us. 60 GOLD DUST. A workman once said: “If I were to leave off singing, I should be quite unequal to my business/' Then sing always; let your heart sing as in its earliest years. The refrain of the heart, which perhaps never passes the lips, but which echoes in heaven, is this sentence: — “I love, and I am beloved!" XLIV. What regret we sometimes feel after the death, or departure of a friend, at never hav- ing shown them the respect, the gratitude we felt toward them, and how from the depths of our heart we are filled with tenderness and affection for them! It may have been, that at times we could not speak, because we thought too much of how to say it. Another time, we lost the opportunity be- cause we were always shirking it. Deep devo- tion is sometimes a little erratic: always afraid of doing too little, doing it badly or inoppor- tunely. Oftener still the tokens of affection are checked, because we think we could show it in some better way; we put off till brighter days, the dreams we cherished, the sweet GOLD DUST* 61 yearning to open the heart to the loved ones, and let them see for once, what a large place they fill there. Alas! the days fly past, suddenly comes death, or, sadder still, separation without hope of return, leaving the bitter thought: “Others will show them better than I have done, how dear, how valued they are. ” Ah! what we can be loving to-day, never let us say: “I will love to-morrow when we have the opportu- nity of being grateful, never put off, for one hour, the proof of our gratitude ! CONCLUSION. LACORDAIRE, in preparing for a retreat in the country, said he only required for his realization of a dream of happiness and soli- tude, three things: — (i) God; (2) a friend; (3) books. God! — We never fail to find Him, when we are pure, holy, and fulfilling hourly our duty. A Friend! — Responds always to the heart’s call, if only that heart be loving and devoted. Books !— Oh ! if only this little book of Gold Dust, might be allowed to form one of the numbers of those that are carried away, far from the world’s turmoil, and read in order to gain a little help and peace ! It will take up so little room! N. GOLD DUST. SECOND PART. I. THE FRIENDLY WHISPER. Under this title we commence a series of short counsels for each day of the week, which will be as a friendly whisper, the voice of a Guardian Angel, inspiring, as occasion pre- sents itself, some good action, some self-denial, some little sacrifice. We recommend that it should be placed on the writing table, in the book we most fre- quently turn to, or wherever it is most likely to meet the eye. What is so often the one thing wanting to some devout person, de- voted to doing good? Simply to be reminded of it. Monday . ! CHARITY. Be good-natured, benevolent, keep up a cheerful expression of countenance, even when alone. 63 64 GOLD DUST. That clumsiness, those brusque, rude man- ners, let them pass without notice. When wishes contrary to your own prevail, yield without ill-humor, or even showing your effort: you will give pleasure, and thus be pleased yourself. Try to please, to console, to amuse, to be- stow, to thank, to help. That is all in itself so good! Try and do some good to the souls of others! An earnest word, some encouragement, a prayer softly breathed. Overcome your dislike and aversion to cer- tain persons, do not shun them, on the contrary go and meet them. God goes before you. Be courteous even to the troublesome indi- vidual who is always in your way. God sends him to you. Forgive at once. Do you believe harm was intended? If so, is it not the greater merit? Do not refuse your alms, only let your mo- tives be pure, and in giving, give as to God. Do not judge the guilty harshly; pity, and pray for them. Why imagine evil intentions against your- self? cannot you see how the thought troubles and disquiets you? Check the ironical smile hovering about GOLD DUST. 65 your lips, you will grieve the object of it. Why cause any one pain? Lend yourself to all. God Will not suffer you to be taken advantage of if you are prompted by the spirit of Charity. Tuesday. THE DIVINE PRESENCE. Never separate yourself from God. How sweet it is to live always near those who love us! You cannot see God, but He is there, just as if some friend were separated from you by a curtain, which does not prevent his seeing you, and which at any moment may unfold and disclose him to your view. When the soul is unstained by sin, and if we remain still and recollected, we can perceive God’s presence in the heart, just as we see day- light penetrating a room. We may not be always conscious of this Presence, but imper- ceptibly it influences all our actions. Oh! how- ever heavy may be the burden you have to bear, does it not as once become light, beneath the gaze of that Father’s Eye? The thought of God is never wearisome; why not always cherish it? Go on without trembling, beneath the Eye of God, never fear 5 Gold Dost 66 GOLD DUST. to smile, love, hope, and enjoy all that makes life sweet. God rejoices in our pleasures as a mother in the joys of her child. What is contrary to God's Will, grieves Him, and does you harm, that alone you need fear; the thought that will stain your soul ; the wish that troubles your heart; that unwholesome action, that will weaken your intellect, and destroy your peace. Never long for what God sees fit to deny. God, beside you, will repair your blunders, provide means, whereby you may atone for that sinful action, by one more virtuous, wipe away the tears caused by some unmerited reproof, or unkind word. You have only to close your eyes for a moment, examine yourself, and softly murmur, “Lord, help me!” Can you not hear God's Voice speaking to you? What! when He says: Bear this, I am here to aid thee; you will refuse? He says: Continue another half hour the work that wearies thee; and you would stop? He says: Do not that; and you do it? He says: Let us tread together the path of obedience; and you answer: No? GOLD DUST. 67 Wednesday . SELF-RENUNCIATION. Do not be afraid of that word Renunciation. To you, perhaps, it only means, weariness, restraint, ennui. But it means also, love, perfection, sanctifi- cation. Who cannot renounce, cannot love. Who cannot renounce, cannot become perfect. Who cannot renounce, cannot be made holy. Self-renunciation, means devotion to our duty, going on with it in spite of difficulties, disgust, ennui, want of success. Self-renunciation, is self-sacrifice under what- ever form it presents itself, prayer, labor, love ... all that would be an obstacle, not merely to its accomplishment, but its perfec- tion. > Self-renunciation, is to root out all that encumbers the heart, all that impedes the free action of the Holy Spirit within: longings after an imaginary perfection or well-being ; unreal sentiments that trouble us in prayer, in work, in slumber, that fascinate us, but the result of which is to destroy all real application. Self-renunciation, is to resist all the allure- ments of the senses, that would only give pleas- ure to self, and satisfy the conscience, by whis- 68 GOLD DUST. pering: “it is no sin;” Self-renunciation, in short, is destroying, even at the risk of much heartrendering, all in our heart, mind, imag ination, that could be displeasing to God. Renunciation is not one single action, that when once accomplished, we experience relief; it means a constant sacrifice, restraint, resist- ing, rending, each hour, each moment during our whole life. But is not this a worry, a continual torment? No, not if the moving spring be love, or godly fear. . . . Do you consider it a trouble when you make yourself less comfortable, to make room for a friend who visits you? Well! there are times when God would make you sensible of His Presence. He is with you, and to retain Him close, who is all Purity, will you not be more modest in you behavior? If you would receive Him into your heart at Holy Communion, will you not make room for Him, by rooting out that affection He has pointed out to you as dangerous, that interest, that desire, that worldly sensual attachment? Oh ! if you only really loved. Would you call it torture, or constraint, the energy with which you shatter some poisoned cup, you were almost enticed to drink? GOLD DUST. 69 Well! when encountering the attractive enjoyment, the material delight, which might lead you astray, or the siren voice which would allure you from your duty for a moment — then when conscience whispers: “ Beware,” . . . would you be cowardly? Alas, it is slowly and surely that the stream carries on to destruction the blossom that has fallen into its current. It is little by little that pleasure leads on to sin the heart that lets itself be lulled by its charms. Thursday . SUBMISSION. As soon as you awake in the morning, try and realize God stretching forth His Hand toward you, and saying: Dost thou really desire that I should watch over thee this day? and you, lift up your hands toward this kind Father, and say to Him: “Yes, yes, lead me, guide me, love me, I will be very submissive !” Beneath God’s protecting Hand, is it pos- sible that you can be sorrowful, fearful, unhappy? No; God will allow no suffering, no trial above what you are able to bear. Then pass through the day, quietly and calmly, even as when a little child, you had your mother always beside you. 70 GOLD DUST. You need only be careful about one thing, never to displease God, and you will see how lovingly God will direct all that concerns you : material interests, sympathies, worldly cares, — you will be astonished at the sudden enlight- enment that will come to you, and the wondr- ous peace that will result from your labor and your toil. Then, welcome trial, sickness, ennui, priva- tions, injustice ... all of it can only come, directed by God's Hand, and will wound the soul only in order to cleanse some spot within. Would your mother have given you a bitter dose, merely for the sake of causing you suffer- ing? If your duty is hard, owing either to its diffi- culty or the distaste you feel toward it, lift your heart to God and say: “Lord, help me,” . . . then go on with it, even though you seem to do it imperfectly. Should one of those moments of vague mis- givings that leave the soul as it were in utter darkness, come to overwhelm you, call upon God, as a child in terror cries out to its mother. If you have sinned, oh! even then be not afraid of the merciful God, but with eyes full of tears, say to Him: “Pardon me" . . . and add softly, “chastise me soon, O Lord!" GOLD DUST. 71 Yes, yes, dear one, be always at peace, going on quietly with your daily duties . . . more than that, be always joyous. And why not? You who have no longer a mother to love you, and yet crave for love, God will be as a mother: You who have no brother to help you, and have so much need of support, God will be your brother: You who have no friends to comfort you, and stand so much in need of con- solation, God will be your friend. Preserve always the childlike simplicity, which goes direct to God, and speak to Him, as you would speak to your mother. Keep that open confidence that tells Him your projects, troubles, joys, as you tell them to a brother. Cherish those loving words that speak of all the happiness you feel, living in dependence upon Him, and trusting in His Love, just as you would tell it to the friend of your child- hood. Keep the generous heart of childhood which gives all you have to God. Let Him freely take whatever He pleases, all within and around you. Will only what He wills, desiring only what is in accordance with His Will, and finding nothing impossible that He commands. 72 GOLD DUST. Do you not feel something soothing and con- soling in these thoughts? The longer you live, the better you will understand that true happi- ness is only to be found in a life devoted to God, and given up entirely to His Guidance. No! no! none can harm you, unless it be God’s Will, and if He allows it, be patient and humble; weep if your heart is sore, but love always, and wait . . . the trial will pass away, but God will remain yours forever. Jriday . PRAYER. Oh! if you only knew what it is to pray! oh! if God would only give you the grace to love prayer. What peace to your soul, what love in your heart ! What joy would shine in your countenance, even though the tears streamed from your eyes! Prayer, as the first cry escapes the lips, indi- cates to God that some one would speak to Him, and God, so good and gracious, is ever ready to listen (with all reverence we say it), with the prompt attention of a faithful servant. He manifests Himself to the soul, with inef- fable love, and says to it: “Behold Me, thou hast called Me what dost thou desire of Me?” GOLD DUST. 73 To pray, is to remain, so long as our prayer lasts, in the Presence of God, with the cer- tainty, that we can never weary Him, no mat- ter what may be the subject of our prayer, or at those times when we are speechless, and as in the case of the good peasant, quoted by the Cure d’Ars, we are content to place ourselves before God, with only the recollection of His Presence. To pray, is to act toward God, as the child does to its mother, the poor man toward the rich, eager to do him good, the friend toward his friend, who longs to show him affection. Prayer is the key to all celestial treasures, by it we penetrate into the midst of all the joy, strength, mercy, and goodness Divine, . . . we receive our well-being from all around us, as the sponge plunged into the ocean imbibes without an effort the water that surrounds it . . . this joy, strength, mercy and goodness, become our own. Oh, yes! if you knew how to pray, and loved prayer, how good, useful, fruitful, and meritor- ious, would be your life. Nothing so elevates the soul as prayer. God, so condescending to the soul, raises it with Him to the regions of light and love, and then the prayer finished, the soul returns to its 74 GOLD DUST. daily duties, with a more enlightened mind, a more earnest will. It is filled with radiance divine, and sheds of its abundance upon all who approach. If you would succeed in your study, with the success that sanctifies, pray, before commenc- ing; If you would succeed in your intercourse with others, pray before becoming intimate. Nothing so smoothes and sweetens life as Prayer. There is the solitary prayer, when the soul isolated from all creatures is alone with God and feels thus toward Him: “God and I;” God to love, I to adore, praise, glorify, thank. God to bestow, I to humbly receive, to renounce, ask, hope, submit! . . . Ah ! who can tell all that passes between the soul, and its God ! There is the united prayer of two friends, bound together by a holy friendship, their desires and thoughts are one, and as one they present themselves before God, crying: “Have mercy upon me!” There is the prayer of two hearts separated by distance, made at the same hour in the same words. Soothing prayer, that each day reunites those two sad hearts torn by the agony of part- GOLD DUST. 75 ing, and who in God's Presence, strengthened with the same Holy Spirit, recover courage to tread the road to heaven, each in its appointed sphere. Then there is Public Prayer, that which has the special promise of God's Presence; prayer so comforting to the feeble, guilty soul, who can cry in very truth, “My prayer ascends to God, supported by the prayers of others. '* Oh! if you knew how to pray, and loved prayer, how happy and fruitful would be your life? Saturday . EARNESTNESS. You love God, do you not, dear one, whom God surrounds with so much affection? Yes! yes! I love Him! And how do you prove to Him your love? I keep myself pure and innocent, so that His Eye falling upon me, may never see anything that displeases Him. I keep myself calm and quiet, and force myself to smile that He may see I am contented. That is right, but that is not enough. I think of tenof how much I owe Him, and ap- ply myself diligently to the work He has given me to do ; I bear patiently with those I dislike, 76 GOLD DUST. with troubles that irritate me; when I am weak I call upon Him, when timid I draw near to Him, when sinful I implore pardon and strive to do my duty more faithfully. That is right, but that is not enough. I lend myself to the importunities of others. I am as a slave to those who need me, and take care never to judge any one harshly. That is right, but still it is not enough. Ah ! then what more can I do, good angel, thus addressing me, what can I do to show my love to God? Devote thyself to doing good to the souls of others: Oh! if you knew how it pleases God to see you laboring for them! It is like the joy of a mother, every time she sees some one benefit- ing her child. How thankful she is to those who nursed it in sickness, spared it pain, showed it some token of affection, a counsel, a warning, that gave it pleasure, by a kind word, a plaything, a smile. All this you may do in that circle, more or less extended, in which you live. Leave to God’s Minister, if you will, the work of converting souls, and limit your efforts GOLD DUST. 77 to doing good by bringing yourself into com- munion with them. To do so, means sweetly, unconsciously, softly speak to them of God, carry them to God, lead them to God. This may be done by gently, tenderly — by inference as it were — speaking to them of God, thus leading them toward Him, bringing them into contact with Him. Hearts are drawn together by talking of their kindred pursuits, souls by speaking of Heavenly things. It is not necessary for this purpose, to pro- nounce the name of God, it will suffice that the words shall lift the soul beyond this mate- rial world, and its sensual enjoyments, and raise them upward to that supernatural atmo- sphere necessary to the real life. Speak of the happiness of devotion, the charm of purity, the blessing of the few min- utes’ meditation at the feet of Jesus, the peace procured by entire resignation to Providence, and the sweetness of a life spent beneath God’s Fatherly Eye, the comfort the thought of Heaven brings in the midst of trouble, the hope of the meeting again above, the certainty of eternal happiness. This is doing good to 78 GOLD DUST. others, drawing them nearer to God, and teaching them more and more of holiness. Limit your efforts to this; later on I will tell you what more you may do. Sunday . SYMPATHY. Welcome with joy each week, the day that God has called His day. To each day of the week God has given his special mission, its share of pleasure and of pain, necessary to purify and fortify, and prepare us for eternity. But Sunday is a day of Love. On Saturday we lay aside our garments faded and stained by toil, and on Sunday we array ourselves in garments, not only fresher, but more choice and graceful. Why not prepare the heart, even as we do the body? During the week, has not the heart been wearied with petty strife and discontent, in- terests marred, bitter words? Then why not shake off all this, that only chills affection? — on the Saturday let us for- give freely, press the hand warmly, embrace each other, and then peace being restored within, we await the morrow’s awakening. Sunday is God’s day of truce for all. That GOLD DUST. 79 day laying aside all revenge and ill feeling, we must be filled with forbearance, indul- gence, and amiability. Oh! how good for us to feel obliged to be reconciled, and each Sunday renews the obligation. Let us leave no time for coldness and in- difference to grow upon us ... it only en- genders hatred, and that once established in the heart, oh! how hard is it to cast out again. It is like a hideous cancer, whose ravages no remedies can stay. It is as the venomous plant, that the gar- dener can never entirely eradicate.. Only by a miracle can hatred be destroyed. At once then let us place a barrier in our hearts, against the approach of coolness, or indiffer- ence, and each Saturday night the head of the family shall thus address us: “Children, to- night we forgive, to-night we forget, and to- morrow begin life afresh in love one toward another . 0 II. When I have sinned, wrote a pious soul, I feel chastisement will fail upon me, and as if I could hide myself from God's Eye. I shrink into myself, and then I pray, I pray, GOLD DUST. and the chastisement not being sent, I again expand. Chastisement is like a stone threatening to crush me: Prayer is the hand that withholds it, while I make atonement. Oh! how can those live peacefully, who never pray? III. OUR DEAD. They are not all there — our dead — buried in the churchyard, beneath the grave, o’er- shadowed by a cross, and round which the roses bloom. There are others which nothing can recall; they are things which belong to the heart alone, and there, alas! have found a tomb. Peace surrounds me to-day; and here in my lone chamber I will invoke them, my much loved dead. Come! The first that present themselves, are the sweet years of childhood, so fresh, so guile- less, so happy. They were made up of loving caresses, boun- tiful rewards, and fearless confidence; the words, pain, danger, care, were unknown; they brought me simple pleasures, happy days GOLD DUST. 81 without a thought for the morrow, and only required from me a little obedience. Alas! they are dead. . . and what number- less things they have carried with them! What a void they have left! Candor, lightheartedness, simplicity, no longer find a place within! Family ties, so true, so wide, so light, have all vanished ! The homely hearth, the simple reward earned by the day’s industry, maternal chidings, forgiveness so ingeniously sought, so freely given, promises of amendment, so sincere, so joyously received. . . Is this all gone forever, can I never recall them? The vision that follows, is that of my early piety, simple and full of faith, which was as some good angel o’ershadowing me with its snowy wings, and showing me God every- where, in all, and with all. The good God, Who each day provides my daily bread ; The God, Who spared my mother in sick- ness, and relieved her when she suffered; God, Who shielded me from harm, when I did right ; The God, Who sees all, knows all, and is Omnipotent, Whom I loved with all my heart. 6 Gold Dust 82 GOLD DUST, Alas! faithful, simple piety, thou art dead; in innocence alone couldst thou live ! Next comes the love of my earliest years. Love in childhood, love in youth, so full of true, simple joy, that initiated me in the sweet pleasure of devotion, that taught me self- denial in order to give pleasure, that de- stroyed all egotism, by showing me the happi- ness of living for others. Love of my childhood, love of my youth, so pure, so holy, on which I always reckoned when they spoke to me of trouble, loneliness, depression . . . Thou also art dead. An involuntary coolness, an unfounded sus- picion, never cleared, an ill-natured story. . . all these have destroyed that child of Heaven. I knew it was tender, and I cherished it, but I could not believe it to be so frail. I could make a long list of all the dead, en- shrined in my heart! O, you who are still young, upon whom God has lavished all the gifts that are lost to me, candor, simplicity, innocence, love, devotion . . . guard, oh, guard these treasures and that they may never die, place them beneath the shelter of Prayer. Parable of the lost piece of money. Gold Dust. 4 GOLD DUST. 83 THE SPIRITUAL LIFE. IV. What a sweet life is that! The maintain- ing, strengthening it, has a softening influ- ence, and it is a labor that never wearies, never deceives, but gives each day fresh cause for joy. In the language of devotion, it is called the interior life, and it is our purpose to point out minutely, its nature, excellence, means, and hindrances. Let no one think the interior life is incom- patible with the life domestic and social, which is often so engrossing; just' as the action of the heart maintained by the constant flow of the blood, in no way affects the outward move- ments, so is it with the life of the soul, which consists chiefly in. the action of God's Holy Spirit within, that never hinders our social duties, but on the contrary is a help toward fulfilling them more calmly, more perfectly. NATURE OF THE INTERIOR LIFE. The interior life is an abiding sense of God’s Presence, a constant union with Him. We learn to look upon the heart as the tem- ple where God dwells, sometimes glorious as above, sometimes hidden as in the Holy 84 GOLD DUST. Eucharist, and we act, think, speak, and ful- fil all our duties, as in His Presence. Its aim is to shun sin, and cultivate a de- tachment from all earthly things, by a spirit of poverty; sensual pleasures, by purity and mortification; pride, by humility; dissipation, by recollection. As a rule, people are prejudiced against an interior life. Some are afraid of it, and look upon it as a life of bondage, sacrifice, and re- straint; others despise it, as nothing but a multiplicity of trifling rules, tending only to narrow-mindedness and uselessness, and fit only for weak minds. In consequence, they are on their guard against it, and avoid the books that treat of it. They would serve God no doubt, but they will not subject themselves to the entire guid- ance of His Spirit; in short, it is far easier to bring a soul from a state of sin to that of grace, than it is to lead a busy, active, zealous person to the hidden contemplative life of the soul. EXCELLENCE OF THE INTERIOR LIFE. God dwelling within us, the life of Christ Himself, when on earth, living always in His Father’s Presence. It is the life of which S. Paul speaks when GOLD DUST. 85 he says, “Nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me. M All saints must lead this life, and their de- gree of holiness is in proportion to the perfec- tion of their union with God. Christ animates their souls, even as the soul animates the body. They own Christ as Master, Counselor, and Guide, and nothing is done without submit- ting it to Him, and imploring His aid and approval. Christ is their strength, their refuge, their defender. They live in constant dependence upon Him, as their Father, Protector, and all-power- ful King. They are drawn to Him, as the child is drawn by love, the poor by need. They let themselves be guided by Him as the blind let themselves be led by the child in whom they confide ; they bear all suffering that comes from Him, as the sick, in order to be healed, bear suffering at the hands of a physician ; and they lean on Him, as the child leans on its mother’s breast. It lifts them above the troubles and miseries of life; the whole world may seem a prey to calamities; themselves, deprived of their 86 GOLD DUST. goods through injustice or accident, they lose their relations through death, their friends through treachery or forgetfulness, their reputation and honor from slander, a serious illness deprives them of health, their happi- ness is destroyed by hardness and tempta- tions . . . Ah ! no doubt, they will have these trials, no doubt they must shed bitter tears, but still God’s peace will remain to them, the peace that passe th all understanding, they will realize God has ordered it, guided it with His Hand Divine, and they will be able to exclaim, with joy, “Thou art left to us, and Thou art all-sufficient!” ACTS OF THE INTERIOR LIFE. 1. See God, that is to say, be always realizing His presence, feeling Him near, as the friend, from Whom we would never be separated, in work, in prayer, in recreation, in repose. God is not importunate, He never wearies, He is so gracious, and merciful, His Hand directs everything, and He will not “suffer us to be tempted above that we are able.” 2. Listen to God, be attentive to His coun- sels, His warnings; we hear His Voice, in those Gospel words that recur to our minds, in the good thoughts that suddenly dawn on GOLD DUST. 87 us, the devout words that meet us in some book, on a sheet of paper, or falling from the lips of a preacher, a friend, or even a stranger. 3. Speak to God, hold converse with Him, more with the heart than the lips, in the early morning's meditation, ejaculatory prayer, vocal prayer, and above all in Holy Commu- nion. 4. Love God, be devoted to Him, and Him alone, have no affection apart from Him, re- strain the love that would estrange us from Him, lend ourselves to all, out of love to Him, but give ourselves to Him alone. 5. Think of God; reject whatever excludes the thought of Him. Of course, we must ful- fil our daily duties, accomplishing them with all the perfection of which we are capable, but they must be done as beneath the Eye of God, with the thought that God has commanded them, and that to do them carefully, is pleas- ing in His sight. MEANS BY WHICH TO ATTAIN THE INTERIOR LIFE. i. Great tenderness of Conscience, secured by constant, regular and earnest confession to God, a hatred of all sin, imperfection, infidel- ity, by calmly, but resolutely fleeing every occasion of it. 88 GOLD DUST. 2. Great purity of heart, by detachment from all earthly things, wealth, luxuries, fame, kindred, friends, tastes, even life itself . . . not that we need fail in love to our kindred and friends, but we must only let the thought of them abide in the heart, as united to the love and thought of God. 3. Great purity of mind, carefully excluding from it all useless, distracting thoughts as to past, present, or future, all pre-occupation over some pet employment, all desire to be known, and thought well of. 4. Great purity of action, only undertaking what lies in the path of duty, controlling nat- ural eagerness and activity, °cting soberly, with the help of the Holy Spirit, the thought that by our deeds we glorify God, pausing for a moment, when passing from one occupation to another, in order to direct aright the in- tention, and taking care to be always occupied in what is useful and beneficial. 5. Great recollectedness and self-mortifica- tion, avoiding, as much as we can, in keeping with our social position, all dissipation, bustle, disturbance; never allowing voluntarily, use- less desires, looks, words, or pleasures; but placing them under the rule of reason, decor- um, edification and love, taking care that our GOLD DUST. 89 prayers be said slowly and carefully, articulat- ing each word, and trying to feel the truth of what we are saying. 6. Great care and exactitude, in all the ordi- nary actions of life, above all, in the exercises of religion, leaving nothing to chance or haz- ard, beholding in everything God’s overruling Will, and saying to oneself sometimes, as the hour for such and such duty arrives, “I must hasten, God is calling me.” 7. Much intercourse with God, speaking to Him with simplicity, loving Him dearly, al- ways consulting Him, rendering to Him an account of every action, thanking Him con- stantly, and, above all, drawing near to Him with joy in the Holy Eucharist. One great help toward such sweet communion with God, will be found in a steady perseverance in the early morning’s meditation. 8. Much love for our neighbor, because he is the much-loved child of God, praying for him, comforting, teaching, strengthening, and helping him in all difficulties. HINDRANCES TO THE INTERIOR LIFE. i. Natural activity, always urging uson ; and making us too precipitate in all our actions. It shows itself: 90 GOLD DUST. In our projects, which it multiplies, heaps up, reforms, and upsets. It allows of no rest, until what it has undertaken is accomplished. In our actions. Activity is absolutely neces- sary to us. We load ourselves with a thousand things beyond our duty, sometimes even con- trary to it. Everything is done with impet- uosity and haste, anxiety and impatience to see the end. In our conversation. Activity makes us speak without thinking, interrupting rudely, reproving hastily, judging without apprecia- tion. We speak loudly, disputing, murmur- ing, and losing our temper. In prayer. We burden ourselves with numberless prayers, repeated carelessly, with- out attention, and with impatience to get to the end of them ; it interferes with our meditations, wearies, torments, fatigues the brain, drying up the soul, and hindering the work of the Holy Spirit. 2. Curiosity lays the soul open to all exter- nal things, fills it with a thousand fancies and questionings, pleasing or vexatious, absorbing the mind, and making it quite impossible to retire within oneself, and be recollected. Then follow distaste, sloth and ennui for all GOLD DUST. 91 that savors of silence, retirement, and medita- tion. Curiosity shows itself, when studies are un- dertaken, from vanity, a desire to know all things, and to pass as clever, rather than the real wish to learn, in order to be useful — in reading, when the spare time is given up to history, papers, and novels — in walking, when our steps would lead us, where the crowd go to see, to know, only in order to have some- thing to retail ; in fact, it manifests itself in a thousand little actions; for instance, pressing forward with feverish haste to open a letter addressed to us, longing eagerly to see any- thing that presents itself — always being the first to tell any piece of news. . . . When we forget God, He is driven from the heart, leaving it void, and then ensues that wild crav- ing to fill up the void with anything with which we may come into contact. 3. Cowardice. God does not forbid patient, submissive pleading, but murmuring fears are displeasing to Him, and He withdraws from the soul that will not lean on Him. Cowardice manifests itself, when in the trials of life, we rebel against the Divine will that sends us illness, calumny, privation, desertion; when in dryness of soul, we leave off our prayers 92 GOLD DUST. and communions, because we feel no sensible sweetness in them, when we feel a sickness of the soul, that makes us uneasy, and fearful that God has forsaken us. The soul estranged from God, seeks diversion in the world, but in the midst of the world, God is not to be found, when temptations come, wearied, frightened, and tormented, we wander farther and farther away from Him, crying, “I am forsaken,” when the trial has really been sent, in order to keep us on our guard, prevent our becoming proud, and offer- ing us an opportunity for showing our love. V. THE LESSON OF A DAISY. I saw her from afar, poor child, she looked dreamy as she leant against the window, and held in her hand a daisy, which she was questioning by gradually pulling it to pieces. What she wanted to ascertain I cannot tell, I only heard in a low murmur, falling from her pale lips, these words: “A little, a great deal, passionately, not at all,” as each petal her fingers pulled away fell fluttering at her feet. I could see her from a distance, and I felt touched. GOLD DUST. 93 Poor child, why do you tell a flower the thought that troubles you? have you no mother? Why be anxious about the future? have you not God to prepare it for you, as tenderly as eighteen years ago your mother prepared your cradle? Finally, when the daisy was all but gone, when her fingers stopped at the last petal, and her lips murmured the word little, she dropped her head upon her arms, discouraged, and poor child, she wept! Why weep, my child? is it because this word does not please you? Let me, let me, in the name of the simple daisy you have just destroyed, give you the experience of my old age. Oh ! if you only knew what it costs to have much of anything ! A great deal of wit often results in spiteful- ness, which makes us cruel and unjust, in jealousy that torments, in deception that sullies all our triumphs, and pride which is never satisfied. A great deal of heart causes uneasiness, which vexes, pain that rends asunder, grief that nearly kills . . . sometimes even the judgment is deceived. 94 GOLD DUST. A great deal of attractiveness, means often a consuming vanity, overwhelming deception, an insatiable desire to please, a fear of being unappreciated, a loss of peace, domestic life much neglected. A great deal of wealth and success are the cause of luxury that enfeebles, loss of calm, quiet happiness, loss of love, leaving only the flattery that captivates. No, no, my child, never long for a great deal in this life, unless it be for much forbear- ance, much goodness. And if it should be God’s Will to give you much of anything, then, oh, pray it may never be to your condemnation. Is passionately the word you long for? Passionately! oh, the harm that is done by that word! there is something in the thought of it that makes me shudder. Passionately means transport, frenzy, excess in everything. The life that the word passionately describes, must be a life full of risks and dangers; and if by little short of a miracle, nothing out- wardly wrong appears, the inner life must resemble a palace, ravaged by fire, where the stranger sees nothing but cracked walls, blackened furniture, and drapery hanging in shreds! GOLD DUST. 95 My child, I would prefer for you the words not at all, as applied to fortune, external charms, and all that goes by the name of glory, success, and fascination in the world. I know it may seem a hard sentence, involving a continual self-denial, and exacting incessant hard labor to obtain the bare necessities of life for those we love. But do not be afraid of it. God never leaves His creatures in absolute need. God may de- prive a face of beauty, a character of amiabili- ty, a mind of brilliancy, but He will never take away a heart of love ; with the faculty of loving, He adds the power of prayer, and the promise always to listen to, and answer it. As long as we can love and pray, life has charms for us. Love produces devotion, and devotion brings happiness, even though we may not under- stand it. In prayer we feel we are beloved, and the Love of God, oh, if only you knew how it com- pensates for the indifference of our fellow- creatures! There now only remains to us the last words of the daisy, a little! the loving fatherly answer God has given to your childish curi- osity. 96 GOLD DUST. Accept it, and make it the motto of your life. A little ; moderation in wealth and fortune, a condition that promises the most peaceful life, free from anxiety for the future, doubt- less requiring daily duties, but permitting many innocent enjoyments. A little; moderation in our desires, content- ment with what we possess, making the most of it, and repressing all vain dreams of a more brilliant position, a more extended reputation, a more famous name. A little ; the affection of a heart devoted to duty, and kindling joy in the family circle, composed of kindred to love, friends to cheer, poor to succor, hearts to strengthen, sufferings to alleviate. A little; a taste for all that is beautiful; books, works of art, music, not making us idly dream of fame, but simply providing enjoy- ment for the mind all the more keen, as the daily toil renders the occasion rare. Do you see, my child, how much may lie beneath those simple words a little, that the daisy gave you, and that you seem so much to despise? Never scorn anything that seems wanting in GOLD DUST. 97 brilliancy, and remember to be really happy we must have More virtue than knowledge, More love than tenderness, More guidance than cleverness, More health than riches. More repose than profit. VI. Each day is like a furrow lying before us; our thoughts, desires, and actions are the seed that each minute we drop into it, without seeming to perceive it. The furrow finished, we commence upon another, then another, and again another; each day presents a fresh one, and so on to the end of life . . . sowing, ever sowing. And all we have sown springs up, grows and bears fruit, almost unknown to us, even if by chance we cast a backward glance we fail to recognize our work. Behind us, angels and demons, like gleaners, gather together in sheaves all that belongs to them. Every night their store is increased. They preserve it, and at the last day will present it to their Master. Is there not a thought in this that should make us reflect? Gold Dust. 7 98 GOLD DUST. VII. “LEARN OF ME, FOR I AM MEEK AND LOWLY OF HEART. ” This is a simple rule of life for me, requiring no more than I am able, but I feel it unites me to God, makes me more devout, more faithful to duty, more ready for death. Since I made it my rule, it has been to me a source of con- solation, enlightenment and strength, and yet God alone knows how full of pain my life has been! Dear friends, who like myself, long to be- come holy, I commend this sentence to you, in all its simplicity; listen, for it comes from the loving Heart of Jesus, it fell from His gentle Lips: “Learn of Me, for I am meek and lowly of heart. ” I. Be Meek. I. MEEK TOWARD GOD. Living from day to day beneath His Eye, and where all things are ordered by a Divine Providence. As carefully as a mother arranges the room where her child will pass the day, does God prepare each hour that opens before me. Whatever has to be done, it is His Will that I GOLD DUST. 99 should do it, and in order that it should be done well, He provides the necessary time, in- telligence, aptitude, and knowledge. Whatever of suffering presents itself, He expects me to bear it, even though I may not see any reason for it, and if the pain be so sharp as to call forth a cry, He gently whis- pers: “Courage, My child, for it is My will!” If anything occurs to hinder my work, any- thing goes contrary to my plans and projects, He has ordained it so, on purpose, because He knows that too much success would make me proud, too much ease would make me sensual, and He would teach me that the road to heaven, is not success, but labor and devotion. With such thoughts as these, all rebellion is hushed! With what peace, what joy our work may be begun, continued, interrupted, and re- sumed! With what energy we reject those enemies that assail us at every hour; idleness, haste, preoccupation, success, want of perseverance under difficulties! Does the past sometimes rise up to trouble me with the thought of the many years spent without God? Ah ! no doubt the shame and grief are sharp 100 GOLD DUST. and keen, but why need they disturb my peace of mind? Has not God promised His pardon for His blessed Son’s sake, to all who truly repent and unfeignedly believe His Holy Gospel? Have I made a full avowal and entire submission? and am I not willing to "fulfil whatever I am advised in God’s name to do for the future? Does the future in its turn seem to frighten me? I smile at the foolish fancies of my im- agination; is not my future in God’s Hands? What ; when all that will befall me to-mor- row, next year, ten years, twenty years hence, is ordained by Him, shall I distress myself with the thought that it may not be good for me! Lord! be Thou my Guide, and choose my lot, as may seem best to Thee! 2. MEEK UNDER ALL CIRCUMSTANCES. Events are messages of either Divine Good- ness, or justice. Each has a mission to fulfil, and as it comes from God, why not let it be accomplished in peace? Painful, heartrending, though they may be, they are still the Will of God. Watch them as they come, with a little trembling, perhaps GOLD DUST. 101 even terror, but never let them destroy in the least degree, my faith and resignation. To be meek under these circumstances, does not mean awaiting them with a stoic firmness which proceeds from pride, or hardening one- self against them to the point of repressing all trembling, no! God allows us sometimes to anticipate, postpone, or even when possible flee them, at any rate we may try to soothe, and soften them a little. The Good Father, when He sends them, sends at the same time the means by which they may be endured, and perhaps averted. Remedies, in sickness, Love, in trouble, Devotion, in privations, Comfort, in weakness, Tears, in sorrow. God has created all these, and knowing per- haps that I may fail to find them, He has given commandment to some privileged ser- vants to love, console, soothe, and help me, saving to them, “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these My brethren, ye have done it as unto Me.” Oh ! welcome then the friendly voice, that in the midst of trouble, speaks to me of hope; I 102 GOLD DUST. will receive with gratitude the care that affec- tion presses upon me. With thankfulness I accept the time devoted to me, privation borne for my sake, and I will pray God to bless these kind friends, and ask Him to say to them, words such as these: “All that thou hast done for Mine, I will repay thee a hundred-fold.” 3. MEEK TOWARD OTHERS. This may seem even more difficult, for it so often appears to us, as if others were actuated by malice. But how often it is only the result of tem- perament, pride, thoughtlessness; seeking their own pleasure, without a thought of the harm they are doing me; then why be unhappy about it? I need only to be on my guard. Never stand in the way of others (when it is not the case of a duty to be fulfilled), and if they sometimes are an obstacle in yours, remove them gently, but do not harm them. Yielding, submitting, retiring, giving up, this should be our conduct toward the members of our family, and those we call our friends. The more facility you give them for doing what they think right, the more you enter into the feelings they have of their own im- GOLD DUST. 103 portance, leaving them a free course of action, so much the more will you be likely to be use- ful to them, and retain your own peace of mind. It is astonishing how those we never press, open their hearts to us! Do not try to examine too minutely the actions of others, or the motives that actuate them; if they are wanting in tact, appear not to notice it, or better still, try and think they have made a mistake. The best remedy for the dislike we feel toward any one, is to endeavor to try and do them a little good every day ; the best cure for their dislike to us, is to try and speak kindly of them. Are those around you wicked? be cautious, but do not lose heart, God will not let them harm you. How easy for God to stay the consequences of slander and calumny! God is the shield, interposing between others, circumstances, and myself. 4. MEEK TOWARD SELF. This does not imply self-complacency, self- indulgence, self-justification, but simply en- couragement, strength, and fortitude. 104 GOLD DUST. Encouragement in some wearisome monoto- nous unrecognized work, with a thought like this: “God is watching me, and wishes me to do this. “ This labor occupies my mind, per- fects my soul, and shields me from mischief. Encouragement such as this, in the midst of sadness and isolation, when no one thinks of us, or gives us the smallest token of sym- pathy: “Is not my duty sufficient for me? God requires it of me, and it will lead me to Heaven. ” Strength to rise again after some failure, some humiliating fault, some depressing weak- ness; rise again lovingly, confidingly, and with the thought, “Never mind, it is a Good Father, a Kind Master, with Whom I have to deal.’* Confess your sin, humble yourself, and while awaiting the assurance of pardon go on with your daily work, with the same zeal as before. Fortitude, against the desertion and forgetful- ness of others. We have two things to fortify us: Prayer and Labor. One to cheer us: Devotion. These remedies are always at hand. GOLD DUST. 105 ii. Be Humble . I. HUMBLE WITH GOD. Resting always in his Presence, like a little child, or even a beggar, who knowing noth- ing is due to him, still asks, loves, and awaits, feeling sure that hour by hour in proportion to our need, God will provide all that is need- ful, and even over and above what is absolutely necessary. Live peacefully under the protec- tion of Divine Providence; the more you feel your insignificance, weakness, sickness, misery, the more right you have to the pity and love of God. Only pray fervently; let your prayer be thoughtful and reverent, sweet, and full of hope. The poor have nothing left to them but prayer, but that prayer, so humble, so pleading, ascends to God, and is listened to with Fatherly love. Do not have a number of varied prayers, but let the “Our Father* * be ever on your lips, and in your heart. Love to repeat to God the prayer that Christ Himself has taught, and for His sake is always accepted. Look upon yourself as a hired servant of God, to whom He has promised a rich reward, at 106 GOLD DUST. the end of the day, He calls life; each morn* ing, hold yourself in readiness to obey all His commands, in the way He wills, and with the means He appoints. The command may not always come direct from the Master, it would be too sweet to hear only God’s Voice; but He sends it by means of His ambassadors; these go by the names of superiors, equals, inferiors, sometimes enemies. Each has received the mission (without knowing it) to make you holy; one by subdu- ing your independence, another by crushing your pride, a third by spurring your slothful- ness. They will, though fulfilling God’s command, do it each in their own way, sometimes roughly, sometimes maliciously, sometimes in a way hard to bear . . . what does it matter, so long as you feel that all you do, all you suffer, is the Will of God? Do your duty as well as you can, as you un- derstand it, as it is given to you; say some- times to God, “My Master, art Thou satisfied with me?” and then in spite of ennui, fatigue, repugnance, go on with it, faithfully to the end. Then whether praise or blame be yours, GOLD DUST. 107 you will, good faithful servant, at least have peace. 2. HUMBLE TOWARD OTHERS. Look upon yourself as the servant of all, but without ostentation, or their having any knowl- edge of it. Repeat to yourself sometimes the words of the Blessed Virgin Mary: “Behold the hand- maid of the Lord, ” and those of our Lord, “I came not to be ministered unto, but to minis- ter,’ ' and then act toward others as if you were their slave, warning, aiding, listening ; abashed at what they do for you, and always seeming pleased at anything they may require you to do for them. Oh ! if you knew the full meaning of these words, all they signify of reward in heaven, of joy and peace on earth, how you would love them! Oh ! if you would only make them the rule of your life and conduct, how happy you would be yourself, and how happy you would make others! Happy in the approval of conscience, that whispers, “you have done as Christ would have done.” Happy in the thought of the reward promised to those who give even a cup of cold water in 108 GOLD DUST. the Name of Jesus Christ; happy in the assur- ance that God will do for you what you have done for others. Oh! what matters then ingratitude, forget- fulness, contempt, and scorn? They will pain, no doubt, but will have no power to sadden, or discourage. Precious counsel, inspired by Christ Himself, I bless you for all the good you have done me! When first those words found entrance to my heart, they brought with them peace and strength to stand against deception, desertion, discouragement, and the resolute will to live a life more devoted to God, more united to Him, more contented, and ever pressing onward toward heaven. Once more, I bless you! Precious counsels, enlighten, guide, and lead me. VIII. A SIMPLE PRAYER. O Jesu! in the midst of glory, forget not the sadness upon earth! Have mercy upon those, to whom God has sent the bitter trial of separation from those they love ! Have mercy on that loneliness of heart so full of sadness, so crushing, sometimes full of terror! GOLD DUST. 109 Have mercy upon those struggling against the difficulties of life, and faint with discour- agement! Have mercy on those, whom fortune favors, whom the world fascinates, and who are free from care! Have mercy on those to whom Thou hast given great tenderness of heart, great sensi- tiveness! Have mercy on those who cease to love us, and never may they know the pain they cause! Have mercy on those who have gradually withdrawn from Holy Communion, and Prayer, and losing peace within, weep, yet dare not return to Thee! Have mercy on all we love : make them holy, even through suffering! if ever they estrange themselves from Thee, take, oh, take all my joys, and decoy them with the pleasures, back again to Thee! Have mercy on those who weep, those who pray, those who know not how to pray! To all, O Jesus! grant Hope and Peace. IX. SIMPLE COUNSELS FOR A YOUNG GIRL. Yes, very simple. Listen, my child, and may they sink deep into your heart, as the dew sinks in the calyx of the flower, 110 GOLD DUST. These are my counsels: Distrust the love that comes too suddenly. Distrust the pleasure that fascinates so keenly. Distrust the words that trouble, or charm. Distrust the book that makes you dream. Distrust the thought you cannot confide to your mother. Treasure these counsels, and sometimes as you read them, ask yourself, “Why?” Guardian Angel of the child we are addressing, teach her the reason of these sentences that seem to her so exaggerated! X. A RECIPE FOR NEVER ANNOYING OUR FRIENDS. This was made by one who had suffered much for many years, from numberless little worries, occasioned by a relative, whose affec- tion no doubt was sincere and devoted, but also too ardent, and wanting in discretion. There must be moderation in all things, even in the love we manifest, the care we take to shield them from trouble. This recipe consists of but four simple rules, very clear, very precise; behold them: i. Always leave my friend something more to desire of me. If he asks me to go and see GOLD DUST. Ill him three times, I go but twice. He will look forward to my coming a third time, and when I go, receive me the more cordially. It is so sweet to feel we are needed, and so hard to be thought importunate. 2. Be useful to my friend, as far as he per- mits, and no further. An over-anxious affection becomes tiresome, and a multiplicity of beautiful sentiments makes them almost insupportable. Devotion to a friend does not consist in doing everything for him, but simply that which is agreeable, and of service to him, and let it only be revealed to him by accident. We all love freedom, and cling tenaciously to our little fancies, we do not like others to arrange what we have purposely left in dis- order; we even resent their over-anxiety and care for us. 3. Be much occupied with my own affairs and little, very little, with those of my friend. This infallibility leads to a favo'rable result. To begin with, in occupying myself with my own affairs, I shall the more speedily accom- plish them, while my friend is doing the same. If he appeals to me for help, I will go through both fire and water to serve him, but if not, then I do myself and him the greater 112 GOLD DUST. service by abstaining. If, however, I can serve him without his knowledge of it, and I can see his need, then I must be always ready to do it. 4. Leave my friend always at liberty to think and act for himself in matters of little import- ance. Why compel him to think and act with me? Am I the type of all that is beautiful and right? Is it not absurd to think that because another acts and thinks differently to myself, he must needs be wrong? No doubt I may not always say, “You are right,” but I can at any rate let him think it. Try this recipe of mine, and I can answer for it your friendship will be lasting. XI. BENEATH THE EYE OF GOD, GOD ONLY. As you read these words, are you not con- scious of an inward feeling of peace and quiet- ness? Beneath God's Eye, there is something in the thought, like a sheltering rock, a refresh- ing dew, a gleam of light. Ah! why always such seeking for some one to see me, to understand, appreciate, praise me? The human eye I seek is like the scorching ray that destroys all the delicate colors in the GOLD DUST. 113 most costly material. Every action that is done, only to be seen of others, loses its fresh- ness in the sight of God: like the flower, that passing through many hands, is at last hardly presentable. Oh ! my soul, be as the desert flower, that grows, blooms, and flourishes unseen in obedi- ence to God’s Will, and cares not whether the passing bird perceives it, or the wind scatters the petals, scarcely formed. On no account neglect the duty you owe to friendship, relatives, society, but remember each day to reserve some portion of it for your- self and God only. Remember always to do some actions that can be known to none but God. Ah ! how sweet to have God as our only Wit- ness. It is the highest degree of holiness; The most exquisite happiness; The assurance of an entry into heaven here- after. The mother that reserves all that is most costly for her child ; the child that prepares in secret some surprise for its mother, do not experience a joy more pure, more elevating, than the servant of God, who lives always in God’s Presence, Whom alone they would Gold Dust. 8 114 GOLD DUST. please ; or the loving heart that enclosing alms to some destitute family writes upon the cover, these words only, “In the name of the Good and Gracious God. ” The following lines were found on some scraps of paper belonging to some stranger: . . . . They have just told me of a poor desti- tute woman, I gave them ten pence for her; it was my duty to set an example. And now, my God, for Thee, for Thy sake only, I mean to send her five shillings, which I shall deduct from my personal expenses. .... To-morrow, Henry is coming to see me, that poor Henry I loved so dearly, but who has grown cold toward his old friend. He wished to grieve me, and little knows that I found it out. Help me, Lord, to remember I have forgiven him, and help me to receive him cordially. Thou alone knowest all I have suffered. .... What a happy day was yesterday! happy with regard to heavenly things, for alas! my poor heart suffered. Yesterday was a Festival. The snow outside kept every one at home by their own firesides, and I was left lonely. . . . Ah! yes, my heart felt sad, but my spirit was peaceful ; I tried to talk to God, just as if I could really see Him GOLD DUST. 115 at my side, and gradually I felt comforted, and spent my evening with a sweet sense of God’s Presence What I said, what I wrote, I know not, but the remembrance of yesterday remains to me as some sweet refreshing per- fume. Perhaps at the Last Day all that will remain worth recording of a life full of activity and zeal, will be those little deeds that were done solely beneath the Eye of God. . . . My God, teach me to live with an abiding sense of Thy Presence, laboring for Thee, suf- fering for Thee, guided by Thee . . . and Thee alone! XII. My Duty Toward God . PRAYERS. Slow, recollected, persevering. Peaceful, calm, resigned. Simple, humble, trusting. Always reverent, as loving as possible. Charitable. Have I not always opportunity to give? to thank? SUBMISSION. To my lot and to my duty: they come from God, are ordained by God, lead me to God, 116 GOLD DUST. to neglect them is to estrange myself from Him. To the Guide of my soul: he has received the Holy Spirit in order to show me the way; he has God’s Spirit to guide him. To my Parents: they have God’s authority. To circumstances: they are arranged and sent by God. LABOR. Begun cheerfully. Continued perseveringly. Interrupted and resumed patiently. Finished perfectly and devoutly. Repose and care for the body; as in God’s Sight; under God’s protection. My Duty toward my Neighbor . GOOD EXAMPLE. By modest demeanor, and simple dress. By a smiling face, and pleasing manner. Always striving to give pleasure. Faithfully fulfilling every duty. GOOD WORDS. Zealous without affectation, encouraging, consoling, peaceful, joyful, loving. These are possible every day. GOLD DUST. 117 GOOD DEEDS. Service rendered by alms; by industry; by influence. Ills remedied, by excusing, justifying, pro- tecting, defending, concealing faults and mistakes, if possible, by repairing them. Joys provided, for the mind, by a joyous manner; for the heart, by loving thanks; for the soul, by a word of Heaven. My Duty toward Myself. COURAGE. In trials and adversity, disturbance, sickness, failure, humiliations. Worries that trouble without reason. Ill temper controlled, in order not to pain others. After failures, to begin again. In temptations, to withstand them. ORDER AND METHOD. In my occupation, each at its appointed hour. In my recreation. In all material things, for my benefit. Shunning scruples and const! aint, as much as caprice and folly. \ 118 GOLD DUST, NOURISHMENT. Pious thoughts, read, meditated upon and sometimes written. Books, that elevate and excite love for all that is good and lovely. Conversations, that refresh, rejoice, and cheer, walks that expand the mind, as well as strengthen the body. XIII. THE POWER OF AN ACT OF LOVE TOWARD GOD. Have you ever reflected upon this? Let us consider the exact words that describe it. “I love Thee with all my heart, with all my soul, with all my strength, because Thou art so good, so infinitely good!” Try and repeat these words slowly, so that each may penetrate deep into your heart. Do you not feel moved, as if your whole being, in these words went forth to God, offer- ing to Him life itself? Do you not feel in making this Act of Love, you give far more than if you gave your wealth, influence or time; nay, rather does not this very act seem to bring you riches, strength, op- portunities, all that you possess? GOLD DUST. 119 Picture to yourself, standing before you a child — a child perhaps who may have injured you deeply, and yet whose sincerit}^ at this moment you cannot doubt, who is actuated neither by fear nor self-seeking, but simply by a penitent heart, and who comes to say to you words of love, such as those above, do you feel no emotion, no feeling of pity? I defy you to be without some emotion, not to feel your arms extending, perhaps in spite of you, to embrace this poor child, and not to answer: “I also love thee. ” I have yet another test to put to you, poor, desolate, guilty, hopeless as you are, seeing only within and around you, fears, terror, and — ay, let me say it— damnation. I defy you to kneel and say these words, (laying a greater stress on them because of the repugnance you feel); “My God! I love Thee with all my heart, with all my strength, with all my soul, above everything, because Thou art so good, so infinitely good!” and then not to feel that Jesus is moved with compas- sion, and not to hear His Voice, saying to you: “My child, I love thee also!” O Jesus, how can we find words in which to express the tenderness awakened in Thine Heart, by a word of love from one of Thy little 120 GOLD DUST. ones! That Heart, so tender, gentle, sensitive, and loving! A sentence of Faber’s may sound unnatural to us, so little spiritually-minded; he says, “God sometimes draws us to Him, and fills us with love for Him, not that He may love us, that He always does, but in order to make us feel how He loves us!” An Act of Love demands but a few moments. The whole of the day, even in the midst of labor, we an multiply it infinitely, and what wonders are wrought by each Act ! Jesus Himself is glorified, and He sheds abundant grace upon the earth. Our Guardian Angel, beholding us, listens, draws nearer, and makes us feel we have done right. The Angels above experience a sudden joy, and look upon us tenderly. Evil spirits feel their power diminished, and there is a moment of rest from the temptation that surrounds us. The choir of saints above renew their songs of praise. Each soul on earth feels the peace Divine. Ah! which of us each day would not renew these Acts of Love to God ! Ah! all who read these lines, pause for one GOLD DUST. 121 moment, and from the bottom of your heart exclaim: “My God! I love thee! my God, I love Thee!” XIV. BE SERIOUS. A statesman retiring from public life occu- pied himself in his latter days with serious thoughts. The friends who came to visit him, re- proached him with being melancholy. No, he replied, I am only serious. All around me is serious, and I feel the need that heart and mind should be in unison with my surround- ings. “For,” he added, with such solemnity as to impress all present, “God is serious as He watches us. Jesus is serious when He inter- cedes for us. The Holy Spirit is serious when He guides us. Satan is serious when he tempts us. The wicked in hell are serious now, be- cause they neglected to be so when on earth ; all is serious in that world whither we are wending. ” Oh ! my friends, believe me, it is all true ; let us at least at times be serious in our thoughts and in our actions. 122 GOLD DUST. XV. CONSOLATION. You distress yourself sometimes, poor thing! because amongst those who surround you, there are one or two who worry and annoy you. They do not like you, find fault with everything you do, they meet you with a severe countenance and austere manner, you think they do you harm, you look upon them as obstacles to your doing good. Your life passes away saddened, and faded, and gradually you become disheartened. Courage! instead of vexing yourself, thank God; these very persons are the means of pre- serving you from humiliating faults, perhaps even greater sins. It is like the blister the doctor applies, to draw out the inflammation that would kill. God sees that too much joy, too much hap- piness, procured by those little attentions for which you are so eager, would make you care- less and slothful in prayer ; too much affec- tion would only enervate, and you would cling too much to earthly things ; so in order to pre- serve your heart in all its tenderness and sim- plicity, He plants there a few thorns, and cuts you off from all the pleasures you fancy yours GOLD DUST. 123 by right. God knows that too much praise would cause pride, and make you less forbear- ing to others, and so He sends instead humili- ations. Let them be, then, these persons who unconsciously are doing God’s work within you. If you cannot love them from sympathy, love with an effort of the will, and say to God: 4 4 My God, grant that without offending Thee, they may work my sanctification. I have need of them. ” XVI. HOLY COMMUNION. The result of good Communion is, within, a fear of sin, without, a love for others. Holy Communion is a great aid to sanctifica- tion. Jesus visits the soul, working in it, and fill- ing it with His Grace, which is shed on all around, as the sun sheds forth its light, the fire gives out its heat. It is impossible but that Christ, thus visiting the soul, should not leave something Christ- like within, if only the soul be disposed to re- ceive it. Fire, whose property is to give warmth, cannot produce that effect unless the body be placed near enough to be penetrated with' the heat. 124 GOLD DUST. Does not this simple thought explain the reason, that there is often so little result from our frequent Communions? Do you long at each Communion to receive the grace bestowed by Christ, that shall little by little fit you for heaven hereafter? Will you, receiving thus the God of Peace within, have for those around you kind words that shall fill them with calmness, resignation, and peace? Will you, receiving thus the God of Love, gradually increase in tenderness and love that will urge you to sacrifice yourself for others, loving them as Christ would have loved them? Will you, receiving Him, you rightly name the Gracious God, become yourself gracious, gracious to sympathize, gracious to forbear, gracious to pardon, and thus in a small way resemble the God who gave Himself for thee? This should be your resolve, when about to communicate. Resolved to obey God’s Commandments in all their extensiveness, never hesitating in a question of duty, no matter how hard it may be ; the duty of forgiving and forgetting some injustice or undeserved rebuke; accepting cheerfully a position contrary to your wishes and inclinations; application to some labor, GOLD DUST. 125 distasteful, and seemingly beyond your strength. If your duty seems almost impossible to ful- fil, ask yourself, “Is this God’s Will for me?” and if conscience answers yes, then reply also, I will do it. All difficulties vanish after Holy Commu- nion. Generous; depriving yourself those days of Communion, of some pleasures which though harmless in themselves, you know, only too well, enfeeble your devotion, excite your feel- ings, and leave you weaker than before. Gen- erous means doing over and above what duty requires of us. Conscientious and upright; not seeking to find out if some forbidden thing is really a sin or not, and whether it may not in some way be reconciled to conscience. Oh! how hurtful are these waverings be- tween God and the world, duty and pleasure, obedience and allurements. Did Jesus Christ hesitate to die for you? and yet you hesitate ! Coward ! Humble and meek; treading peacefully the road marked out for you by Providence, some- times weeping, often suffering, but free from anxiety, awaiting the loving support that never 126 GOLD DUST. fails those who trust, and renew their strength day by day. Living quietly, loving neither the world, nor its praise, working contentedly in that state of life to which you are called, doing good, regardless of man’s knowledge and approval, content that others should be more honored, more esteemed, having only one ambition; to love God, and be loved by Him. If this be the disposition of your soul, then be sure, each communion will be blessed to you, make you more holy, more like Christ, with more taste and love for the things of God, more sure of glory hereafter. XVII. After Holy Communion . SELF SACRIFICE. Lord, take me, and lead me whithersoever Thou wiliest! Is it Thy will, that my life be spent in the midst of such incessant toil, and tumult, that no time is left for those brief moments of leisure, of which I sometimes dream? Yes! yes! I wish it also! Is it Thy Will, that lonely and sorrowful, I am left on earth, while those I loved have gone to dwell near Thee above? Yes! yes! I wish it also! GOLD DUST. 127 Is it Thy Will, that unknown by all, misun- derstood even by those whose affection I prize, I am looked upon as useless, on account of my stupidity, want of manner, or bad health? Yes! yes! I wish it also! Thou art Ruler. Oh! my God! only be Thyself the Guide, and abide with me forever! MY MEMORY. My Memory! the mysterious book — reflec- tion of that of eternity, in which at each mo- ment are inscribed, my thoughts, affections, and desires. Into Thy Hands, I commend it, Lord, that Thou alone mayest write there, Thou alone efface ! Leave there, Lord, the remembrance of my sins, but efface forever the pleasures that led to them — were I to catch but a glimpse of their enticing sweetness, I might again desire them. Leave there the sweet memories of childhood, when I loved Thee, with such simplicity, and my father, my mother, my family, were my sole affections. Those days when the slightest untruthfulness, or even the fear of having sinned, left me no peace, till I had confessed it to my mother. Those days, when I always felt my Guardian Angel near me, helping me in my work, and soothing my little troubles! 128 GOLD DUST. Leave me the remembrance of my first sense of the Divine absolution when, my heart over- flowing with secret joy, I cried, I am forgiven, I am forgiven. And then the recollection of my first com- munion! oh! recall it to me, Lord, with its preparation so fearful, yet so loving; its joy, so calm, so holy, yet so sweet, that even now, the thought of it fills mine eyes with tears! Leave me the remembrance of Thy Benefits! each year of my life is crowned with bless- ings ... at ten . . . fifteen . . . eighteen . . . twenty years ... oh ! I can well recall all Thy goodness to me, my God! Yes, receive my memory, blot out all that can estrange me from Thee, and grant, that nothing apart from Thee may again find a place there! MY MIND. Oh! by what false lights have I been daz- zled ! They showed me prayer as wearisome, religious duties too absorbing — frequent Com- munion as useless — social duties as a heavy bondage — devotion, the lot of weak minds and those without affection . . . Oh! I knew well how false it was, and yet I let myself be half convinced. When have I ever been more zealous in labor, GOLD DUST. 129 than those days when I had fulfilled all my religious duties? When, more loving and devout, than on the days of my Communions? When have I felt more free, more happy, than when having fulfilled all the duties of my social position? Lord! receive my mind, and nourish it with Thy Truth! Show me that apart from Thee, pleasures of the senses leave behind only remorse, disgust, weariness, and satiety; Pleasures of the heart cause anxiety, bitter- ness, rendings, and fears; Pleasures of the mind produce a void, vanity, jealousy, coldness, and humiliations! Teach me that all must pass away . . . that nothing is true, nothing is good, nothing is eternal, but Thou, Thou only, O my God. MY WILL. My deeds are the result of my will, and it is the will only, that makes them of any value. Oh! then to begin with, I will learn submis- sion! What I wish, may not always be good for me, what I am bidden must be right. O Jesus! grant me the grace of obedience, and then let me be bidden many things: works Gold Dust. 9 130 GOLD DUST. of piety, works -of charity, self-renunciation, brilliant deeds, deeds that are ignored, in my family life, or wherever I may be, there are numberless calls for all of these ; Lord, behold Thy servant! may I be always ready, when Thou hast need of me. ALL THAT I HAVE. My God, how richly hast Thou blessed me! Treasures of love, I offer them to Thee ! I have relations, dear ones, Thou knowest how I love them . . . Ah, if it be Thy Will to take them from this world, before me, though I say it weeping, still I say it ; Thy Will be done ! I have friends ... If it be Thy Will they should forget me, think ill of me, leave me alone, with that loneliness of heart, so bitter and so keen ... I yield them to Thee! I have worldly goods, that give me a certain degree of comfort, by affording me the means of helping others, poorer than myself . . . should it be Thy Will to deprive me of them, little by little, till at last I have only the bare necessaries of life left ... I yield them to Thee! I have limbs, that thou hast given me. If it be Thy Will that paralysis should fetter my arms, my eyes no longer see the light, my The young Jesus on the way to Jerusalem. Gold Dust. GOLD DUST. 131 tongue be unable to articulate, my God, I yield them to Thee ! In exchange, grant me Thy Love, Thy Grace, and then . . . nothing more, only Heaven ! O Jesus, abandoned by all in the garden of Gethsemane, in need then of comfort and strength ; Jesus, Thou who knowest that at this mo- ment there are some on earth who have no strength, no comfort, no support, oh! send to them some angel who will give them a little joy, a little peace! Oh! if only I might be that messenger! What must I suffer, Lord? If an outward trouble, or inward pain be needful, to make of me but for one moment a consoling angel, to some poor lonely heart, oh! however keen the pain, or bitter the trouble, I pray Thee, grant it to me, Jesus! O Jesus, in search of lips to tell the love Thou bearest for Thy children; lips to tell the poor and lonely they are not despised, the sinful they are not cast away, the timid they are not unprotected. Oh, Jesus, grant that my lips may speak words of strength, love, comfort, and pardon. Let each day seem to me wasted, that passes without my having spoken of help 132 GOLD DUST. and sympathy, without having made some one bless Thy Name, be it but a little child. O Jesus! so patient toward those who wear- ied Thee with their importunity and ignorance! Jesus, so long-suffering in teaching, and await- ing the hour of grace ! Jesus, grant that I may be patient to listen, to teach, though over and over again I may have to instruct the same thing. Grant me help, that I may always show a smiling face, even though the importu- nity of some be keenly felt, and if through physical weakness I manifest ennui or weari- ness, grant, O Jesus, that I may speedily make amends with loving words, for the pain I have caused. O Jesus! Who with infinite tact, didst await, seated at the roadside, the opportunity for doing good, simply asking a small service of the poor Samaritan woman, Thou wouldst save, and draw to Thee. O Jesus! grant that I may feel and under- stand all the pain, that timidity, shyness, or reserve, keep buried within the recesses of the soul. Grant me the tact and discretion that draws near without paining, that asks without repulsing, without humiliating, and thus en- able me to bring peace and comfort to the wounded heart. GOLD DUST. 133 O Jesus! seeking some one as faithful dis- penser of Thy blessings, grant much to me, that I may have much to bestow on others. Grant that my hands may dispense Thine alms, that they may be as Thine, when Thou didst wash the feet of Thine Apostles, work- ing for all, helping all; let me never forget, that like Thee, I am placed on this earth to minister, not to be ministered unto. Grant that my lips may speak comforting words and give forth cheering smiles, that I may be as the well by the roadside, where the weary traveler stoops to drink, as the shade of the tree whose branches laden with fruit are extended over all that pass beneath. O Jesus! to Whom all Thy children are so dear, and whatever they may be Thou carest for them, and rememberest they are the much loved children of God! Oh! grant that in all my intercourse with others, I may only see, love, and care for their souls, that soul for whom, O God, Thou hast died, who like my- self can call Thee Father, and with whom, near Thee, I hope to dwell, throughout the ages of Eternity. THE ‘LET US FOLLOW HIM” CHAPTER I. Caius Septimus Cinna was a Roman patri- cian. His youth was spent in the legions and in hard camp life. Later he returned to Rome to enjoy glory, the delights of life, and his great but somewhat depleted fortune. There he thoroughly enjoyed life, indulging in all the excesses which a great city offered. He spent his nights at feasts in magnificent suburban villas. His days were spent at con- tests with sword masters, in discussions with rhetors in the tepidaria, where they argued profound questions, and incidentally talked over the gossip of the city and the world, in the circus, at races, or gladiatorial contests, among Greek lute-players, Thracian sooth- sayers, and wonderful dancing-girls brought from the islands of the Archipelago. Through his mother, who was a relative of Lucullus, eminent some years ago, he had in- herited a passion for exquisite dishes. Upon 3 4 LET US FOLLOW HIM. his table were served Greek wines, oysters from Neapolis, mice from Numidia, and locust fat prepared in honey from Pontus. Every, thing that Rome possessed Cinna must have, beginning with fish from the Red Sea and ending with white ptarmigan from the shores of the Borysthenes. He enjoyed everything not only as a soldier who revels, but also as a patrician who overindulges in the luxuries. He infused in himself, and perhaps really created within himself, a taste for the beauti- ful — for statues recovered from the ruins of Corinth, for pitchers from Attica, for Etruscan vases, or vases imported from foggy Sericum, for Roman mosaics, for textures from the Euphrates, for Arabian perfumes, and for all those peculiar trifles, which filled the empti- ness of the patrician life. He was able to discuss all these things both as a connoisseur and amateur, with toothless old men, who at the table ornamented their bald heads with wreaths of roses, and who after feasting, chewed the flowers of the heli- otrope to make their breaths smell pleasant. He appreciated the beauty of Cicero’s ora- tions, likewise the verses of Horace and Ovid. Being the pupil of an Athenian rhetor, he spoke Greek fluently, he knew by heart whole LET US FOLLOW HIM. chapters of the Iliad, and at the feasts he could sing the songs of Anacreon until he was too hoarse or too intoxicated. Through his master and other rhetors he had rubbed against philosophy and became famil- iar with it so far, that he understood the arch- itecture of different mental structures erected in Hellas and the colonies. He understood just as well that all of them were lying in ruins. He knew personally many Stoics, toward whom he felt an aversion, as he con- sidered them a kind of political party, as hypo- chondriacs, antagonistic to a gay life. Scep- tics were often seated at his table, and between the courses were tearing down whole systems and announcing with cups brimful of wine, that delight is vanity, truth is some- thing unattainable, and the object of a sage can be only a lifeless peace. All these things resounded in his ears, with- out penetrating to the depths. He did not profess any principles and he did not want any. In the nature of Cato he saw the con- glomeration of a great character, with im- mense folly. He considered life a great sea upon which the winds blew wherever they happened to light. In his eyes wisdom was the art which directed the sails for them, so 6 LET US FOLLOW HIM. they propelled the boat. Besides this, he valued the broad shoulders, the sound stomach, and the fine Roman head, with aquiline nose and powerful jaws which he possessed. He was certain that with these any one could get through life in some way. Without belonging to the school of Sceptics, he was a living Sceptic and Hedonic at the same time, although he knew that pleasure was not happiness. He was not familiar with the true doctrines of Epicurus, for which reason, he considered himself a true Epicurean. On the whole he looked upon philosophy as mental gymnastics, of just as much use as those which sword masters taught. When the disputes wearied him he went to the circus to gaze upon blood. He did not believe in gods, neither in virtue, truth, nor happiness. He believed only in omens and had his own prejudices; the mys- terious beliefs of the Orient excited his curi- osity. As long as momentary spleen did not induce him to cruelty, he was a good lord to the slaves. He believed that life is an ample amphora, the better the quality of wine which fills it, the darker it is, therefore he endeav- ored to fill his own with the best. He loved no one, but he liked many things and among LET US FOLLOW HIM. 7 others his own eagle head with magnificent skull, and his elegant patrician foot. In the first years of his revelry he liked to astonish Rome, and succeeded several times. After- ward, he became indifferent even for that. 8 LET US FOLLOW HIM. CHAPTER II. In the end he ruined himself. His creditors carried away the remnants of his fortune. All that remained to Cinna was weariness, as if after hard labor, satiety, and one more very unexpected thing, namely, a deep uneasiness. He had enjoyed wealth, had enjoyed love — as the world at that time understood it, had en- joyed the delights and pleasures of life, the glory, and the dangers. He knew the bounds of human thoughts; he had rubbed against poetry and art; he could therefore judge that he had taken from life everything it could furnish. Meanwhile he had a feeling as though he had neglected something — some- thing of the gravest importance. But he did not know what it was and in vain tried to roach a satisfactory conclusion. Frequently he had endeavored to rid himself of these thoughts and this uneasiness. He tried to persuade himself that there was not and could not be anything more in life ; but then his uneasiness, in place of diminishing, grew to LET US FOLLOW HIM. 9 such an extent, that it seemed to him, that he worried, not only for himself, but for all Rome. He envied Sceptics, and at the same time, looked upon them as fools, because they as- serted that the void could be perfectly filled with nothing. It was now as though two men were within him; one wondered at his own uneasiness, the other unwillingly looked upon it as entirely proper. Shortly after the loss of his fortune, thanks to his powerful family influences, Cinna was sent to Alexandria to enter upon an official appointment, partly in order to build anew his fortune in a rich country. His uneasiness boarded the ship with him in Brundisium and accompanied him across the sea. In Alexan- dria, Cinna thought that the duties of a new office, new people, new world, and new im- pressions would liberate him from his intrusive companion — but he was disappointed. One month passed, then another — and like the grain of Demeter, imported from Italy, sprung up still bolder in the soil of the Delta; so his uneasiness, from a hardy sprout, devel- oped into a wide spreading cedar, which threw more and more shade upon the soul of Cinna. At first Cinna tried to relieve himself from such a life as he had led in Rome. Alexandria 10 LET US FOLLOW HIM. was a magnificent city, filled with Grecian women with golden hair and fair complexions, which the Egyptian sun tinted with a trans- parent amber gloss. In their arms he sought relief. But when even this appeared fruitless, he contemplated suicide. Many of his compan- ions had rid themselves in this way, of the burdens of their lives, and of even lighter burdens than Cinna’s; often from ennui only, from vanity, or from a lack of desire to further enjoy life. When a slave held a sword dex- terously and strong enough, one moment was sufficient to end everything. Cinna grasped this thought, but when almost ready to follow it, a peculiar dream prevented him. It seemed to him that when he was transported across the river, he observed upon the other shore, his uneasiness in the form of an ema- ciated slave, who, bowing to him said: “I preceded thee to receive thee. ” Cinna was frightened for the first time in his life; he understood that as long as he could not think of the life beyond without uneasi- ness, then they would both go there. Ultimately, he resolved to approach the sages who swarmed in the Serapeum, judging that among them, perhaps he would find the LET US FOLLOW HIM. Ill solution of the problem. Then though unable to solve any problems for him, they honored him with the title “of the Academy,’ ’ which title was generally conferred upon Romans of high birth and standing. Although this was a small satisfaction and the stamp of a sage bestowed upon a man who was unable himself to answer the question which interested him most particularly, might appear as irony to Cinna — he supposed that perhaps the Serapeum did not unveil at once its whole wisdom and he did not lose all hope. Among the sages of Alexandria, the noble Timon, an opulent man and a Roman citizen, was most active. He had lived in Alexandria for several years, whither he had come to fathom the mysterious doctrines of Egypt. It was said of him that there was not a single pergamiene or papyrus in the library, which he had not read and that he possessed their combined wisdom. He was also an affable and indulgent man. From among the multi- tude of pedants and commentators with dull brains, Cinna recognized him at once and shortly contracted an acquaintance with him which soon ripened into intimacy, and even friendship. The young Roman admired his ability in dialectics, his elocution and the 12 LET US FOLLOW HIM. ability with which the old man discussed the sublime questions, pertaining to the destiny of man or the world. He was especially struck that with his reflection was combined a certain sadness. After becoming more inti- mate, Cinna often desired to ask the old sage the reason for that sadness, and also to open to him his own heart. And it Anally came to this. LET US FOLLOW HIM. 13 CHAPTER III. One evening when, after a heated discussion pertaining to the transmigration of souls, they were left alone upon the terrace, which gave an open view to the sea, — Cinna took the hand of Timon, and openly confessed to him what the gravest burden of his life was, and why he had tried to draw nearer to the sages and philosophers of the Serapeum. “So much at least have I learned , 0 said he at last, “that I know thee, Timon, and I do feel, that if thou canst not solve the enigma of my life, no one else can. ” Timon gazed for some time at the placid depths of the sea, in which the crescent of the new moon was reflected, then said : “Didst thou even see here, Cinna, those flocks of birds, which in winter migrate from the gloom of the north? Dost thou know what they seek in Egypt?” “Yes, they seek warmth and light.” “Human souls are also seeking warmth, which is love, and light, which signifies truth. 14 LET US FOLLOW HIM. The birds know where to seek their own good, but the souls of men wander on in pathless tracts, in mistakes, in sorrows, and disquiet/* “Noble Timon, tell me why they cannot find their path. “ “Hitherto rest was in gods; to-day belief in gods is burnt out just like oil in the lamp. Then they expected that philosophy would be to souls the sun of truth. To-day, as thou knowest best, on its ruins in Rome, in the Academy at Athens, and here, sit Sceptics who believed that they brought us peace, but they brought us only uneasiness. For to renounce light and warmth, is to leave souls in darkness, which is uneasiness. Then extend- ing our hands before us we grope along in darkness, seeking an exit.'* “And hast thou not found it?** “I sought, but did not find. Thou looked for it in joys, I in meditation, and the same mist surrounds us both. Know, then, that not thou alone art tortured, but in thee the soul of the world is tormented. Thou hast certainly not believed in gods this long time.** “In Rome they are yet worshiped publicly, and even new ones are brought from Asia and Egypt, but perhaps only the sellers of vege- LET US FOLLOW HIM. 15 tables, who come into the city from the country of mornings, truly believe in them.” “And. these are the only ones in peace.” “Just the same as those who bow down here to cats and onions.” “Jus£ the same as those, who, like well fed animals, do not desire anything but sleep after eating. ” “But is life worth living in view of this?” “Do we know what death will bring us?” “Then what is the difference between thee and a Sceptic?” “Sceptics are content in this darkness, or pretend to be, while I am tortured in it. * * “And seest thou not any deliverance?” Timon remained silent for a moment, then answered slowly as with a certain hesitation: “I wait for it. ” “From whence?” “I do not know.” Then leaning his head upon his hand, and as if under the influence of the tranquillity which prevailed upon the terraces, he spoke in a low voice : “It is a strange thing, but sometimes it seems to me, that if the world contained noth- ing else beyond that which we know, and if we could not be anything more than we are, 16 LET US FOLLOW HIM. there would not be in us that uneasiness. So in sickness I draw upon the hope of health. The beliefs in Olympus and philosophy are dead, but health may be in some new truth, unknown to me.” * * * * * * Unexpectedly this discourse brought great relief to Cinna. After hearing that not only he was sick, he experienced a feeling as if someone had removed from him a heavy bur- den, and placed it upon the shoulders of thou- sands. LET US FOLLOW HIM. 17 CHAPTER IV. From that time the friendship uniting Cinna and the old Greek became still closer. They visited each other quite often and exchanged their ideas as bread is exchanged at feasts. After all, Cinna, notwithstanding his expe- riences and the weariness which follow pleas- ure, he was still young enough to appreciate a charm unknown to him; and just such a charm he found in Timon’s only daughter, Antea. Her fame in Alexandria was not less than the fame of her father. She was adored by eminent Romans visiting the house of Timon, by Greeks, by philosophers of the Serapeum, and by the masses. Timon did not restrict her to the gyneceum as other women were, but endeavored to transf use in her everything that he knew himself. After childhood years had passed, he read with her Greek, and even Roman and Hebrew books. Antea, endowed with an extraordi- nary memory, and brought up in classic Alex- andria, learned fluently, these languages. She 2 Follow Him 18 LET US FOLLOW HIM. was a companion to her father in his thoughts, and took part frequently in the disputes which were held at symposiums in the house of Timon. Very often in the labyrinth of ab- struse problems, like Ariadne, Antea knew how to keep from going astray and how to liberate others. Her father worshiped and honored her. Besides, she was surrounded by the charms of mystery and even of sanctity, as she had foreboding dreams, in which she saw things invisible to the eyes of common mortals. The old sage loved her as much as his own soul, and the more for the reason that he was afraid he might lose her; for she told him that frequently in her dreams there ap- peared some ill-omened beings, also a mysteri- ous light, and she did not know whether this meant a source of life or death. Meanwhile she was surrounded by love only. Egyptians, who visited the house of Timon, called her Lotus, perhaps because this flower received the worship of Gods on the shores of the Nile, and perhaps also, because whoever saw her once, could forget the whole world. Her beauty equaled her wisdom. The Egyptian sun did not darken her face, in which the rosy rays of dawn seemed to be enclosed LET US FOLLOW HIM. 19 in the transparency of the pearl shell. Her eyes had the blueness of the Nile, and her look flowed from unknown depths like the waters of this mysterious river. When Cinna returned home after having seen and heard her for the first time, he felt the desire to erect an altar in her honor in the atrium of his house, and offer upon it white doves. He had met, in his life, thousands of women, beginning with maidens of the far north, with white eyebrows and hair the color of ripe grain, and ending with Numidian women black as lava; but never before had he met such a figure or such a soul. The oftener they met, the better he knew her; the oftener he had the chance to listen to her words, the greater grew his adoration. He, who did not believe in gods, supposed at some moments that Antea could not be the daughter of Timon, but a daughter of some god, wherefor only half woman and half immortal. And soon he worshiped her with an unex- pected, powerful, and irresistible love, as differ- ent from the feelings he hitherto had felt, as Antea was different from other women. He desired to possess her, only to adore her. He was willing to give his blood to possess her. He felt that he would prefer to be a beggar 20 LET US FOLLOW HIM. with her, than a Caesar without her. As the whirlpool of the sea carries away, with unre- strained power whatever lies in its path, so China’s love overpowered his soul, heart, thoughts, his days, and nights, and everything which composes life. Till at last his love carried away Antea. “Thou art happy, Cinna!” his friends said to him. “Thou art happy, Cinna!” he repeated to himself; and when at last he married her, when her divine lips pronounced the divine words, “Where thou art, Caius, there am I also,” it seemed to him that his happiness was like the sea, inexhaustible and boundless LET US FOLLOW HIM. 21 CHAPTER V. One year passed, and in her home the young wife received the worship almost of a goddess. She was to her husband the light of his eyes. She was to him love, wisdom, and life. But Cinna, when comparing his happiness to the sea, forgot that the sea has its ebbs. After one year Antea was stricken with a terrible and unknown sickness. Her dreams changed into homble visions, which sapped away her life. In her face the rays of light were extin- guished, leaving only the pale clearness of the pearl shell. Her hands became almost trans- parent, her eyes sunk deep into her head, and the rosy lotus became paler and paler, until it resembled a face of the dead. Hawks were seen hovering over the house of Cinna, which hin Egypt was considered a bad omen. These visions became more and more horrible. When at midday hours the rays of the sun flowed over the world, with a white glare, and the city was buried in silence, it seemed to Antea that she heard around her the quick 22 LET US FOLLOW HIM. footsteps of some invisible beings, and that she saw in the depths of the atmosphere a dry and yellow face, like that of a corpse, casting its black eyes upon her. These eyes stared at her steadily, as if beckoning her to go some- where, into some unknown darkness full of mysteries and fear. Then Antea’s body trembled as if stricken with fever; her forehead was covered with pallor and drops of cold sweat. Then that worshiped priestess of the domicile became a defenseless and terrified child, who, throwing herself upon the breast of her husband, ex- claimed with whitened lips, “Save me, Caius! Defend me!” And Caius would have thrown himself upon any phantom which Persephone could let loose from beneath the ground, but in vain did he penetrate the expanse with his eyes. All around, as usual, at midday hours complete tranquillity reigned. The sun shone down up- on the city. The sea seemed to burn in it, and in the deep quiet was heard only the scream- ing of the hawks soaring above the house. The visions became more frequent; after a while they appeared daily. Antea was perse- cuted by them out of doors, just as much as within the atrium and her own rooms. Cinna, LET US FOLLOW HIM. 23 following the advice of physicians, brought in Egyptian sambucients, and Bedouins playing upon earthen reeds, who with noisy music, were supposed to deafen the sounds of those invisi- ble beings. All of these things were of no avail. Antea could hear those sounds in the greatest tumult ; when the sun stood so high that the shadow laid at the feet of man, like a garment falling from the shoulders, then in the air, vibrating from the heat, appeared the corpse-like face, and gazing at Antea with its glassy eyes, slowly receded, as if wishing to say to her, “Follow me!” Sometimes it appeared to Antea, as if the mouth of the corpse moved slowly ; sometimes again, as if repulsive black beetles crawled from its mouth and flew toward her through the air. At the very thought of these visions her eyes were filled with terror. Finally her life became such a horrible torment, that she implored Cinna to hold the sword, that she might cast herself upon it, or to allow her to drink poison. But he knew that he was unable to do this. With the same sword he was willing to open his own veins for her sake, but he could not kill her. When he even thought of that dear head lifeless, with closed lids, with frozen 24 LET VS FOLLOW HIM. peace upon the face and that breast opened witl^his sword, then he felt that before he could do this, he must go mad. He was told by a certain Greek physician, that is was Hecate who appeared to Antea, and that those invisible beings, whose noise fright- ened her, belonged to the retinue of an ill- omened god. According to his idea, Antea was beyond salvation, for anyone having once seen Hecate must die. Then Cinna, who but a short time ago would have laughed at the belief in Hecate, now offered her a hecatomb. But this offering was of no avail ; the next day the ill-omened eyes gazed at Antea again at midday. They tried covering her head, but she saw plainly that corpse-like face even through the thickest mantles. Even when she was closed within a dark room, that face gazed at her from the walls, enlightening the darkness with its white, corpse-like gleam. In the evening the sick woman would feel better. Then she would fall into such a deep sleep, that often it seemed to Cinna and to Timon that she would never awaken. Soon she became so weakened that she was unable to walk with her own strength. They carried her in a litter. LET US FOLLOW HIM. 25 The former uneasiness of Cinna returned with a hundred-fold might, and completely overpowered him. In this uneasiness was the fear of Antea’s death, but there was also a strange persuasion that her sickness was in some mysterious manner related to all that of which Cinna had spoken with Timon in that first discussion. Maybe the old sage thought the same way, but Cinna did not like to ask him ; in fact, he feared to. In the meantime the sick woman faded like a flower, in whose calyx a poisonous spider nestles. But in spite of his lack of hope, Cinna tried desperately to save her. First he went with her to the deserts near Memphis, but when a sojourn in the tranquillity of the pyramids did not liberate her from those terrible visions, he brought her back to Alexandria, where he surrounded her with sooth-sayers, conjurers, enchanters, and with various kinds of impudent bands, which by administering mysterious medicines, profited by human credulity. But Cinna had no choice left, therefore he caught at the least chance. About this time the celebrated Hebrew phy- sician, Joseph, son of Khuza, came to Alexan- dria from Caesarea. Cinna called him imme- diately to his wife, and for the moment hope LET US FOLLOW HIM. returned to his breast. Joseph believed not in Roman nor Greek gods, and he refuted with contempt the belief in Hecate. He believed rather, that demons possessed the sick woman, and advised her to leave Egypt, where be- sides demons, the noxious vapors arising from the swampy Delta, might injure her health. He advised her also, perhaps for the reason that he was a Hebrew himself, to go to Jeru- salem, a city into which demons are not ad- mitted, and where the air is dry and healthful. Cinna willingly followed his advice; first, because he saw no ether remedy, and second, Jerusalem was governed by a procurator, well known to him, and whose ancestors were at one time clients of the house of Cinna. When they arrived at Jerusalem, the procu- rator, Pontius, received them with open arms, and gave them as a residence, his own summer villa, situated near the walls of the city. But even before their arrival Cinna’s hope was frustrated. The corpse-like face gazed at Antea even from the deck of the galley. After arriving at the destination, the poor woman dreaded the midday with the same fear as she had before at Alexandria. And so they spent their days in depression, fear, despair, and awaiting death. LET US FOLLOW HIM. 27 CHAPTER VI. In the atrium, notwithstanding the flowing fountain, the shady porch, and the early hour, it was unbearably hot. The marble reflected the heat from the spring sun, but at some dis- tance from the house a large, old, and wide- spreading pistachio-tree threw its welcome shade over a considerable tract round about. The breeze there was also far greater, as the place was open ; therefore Cinna gave order to carry hither the litter, adorned with hya- cinths and apple-blossoms upon which Antea reposed. After seating beside her he gently laid his palm upon her hands, pale as alabaster, and asked : “Art thou satisfied here, carrissima?” “Yes, satisfied/* she answered, in a scarcely audible voice. Then she closed her eyes as if overcome by sleep. Silence reigned; only the breeze rustled the leaves of the pistachio-tree, and upon the ground around the litter, glittered 28 LET US FOLLOW HIM. golden spots of sun-light, which sifted be- tween /he leaves, locusts drowsily hummed among the rocks. After a short time the sick woman opened her eyes. “Caius,” said she, “is it true that in this country, there has appeared a philosopher, who heals the sick?” “Here such men are called prophets/' answered Cinna. “I have heard of him and desired greatly to call him to thee, but it proved to be that he was only a false per- former of miracles. He also blasphemed against the local temple and the faith of this country: therefore the procurator delivered him up to death, and this very day he will be crucified/’ Antea lowered her head. “Thy cure will come with time,” said Cinna, noticing the deep sorrow, which was reflected upon her face. “Time is in the service of death, not of life/' she answered, meditatively. And again silence followed. Round about the ever-changing golden spots glittered. The locusts hummed more loudly, and from the crevices of the rocky cliff, one after another, LET US FOLLOW HIM. 29 little lizards crawled out upon the rocks, seek- ing the sunny places. Cinna looked now and then at Antea, and for the thousandth time, his mind was filled with despairing thoughts, for he knew that every means of salvation was now spent, that there was not one ray of hope, and that before long that dear form would become only a van- ishing shadow and a handful of dust in a columbarium. Even now, lying there with closed eyes, upon the litter adorned with flowers, she looked like dead. “And I will soon follow thee!” repeated Cinna in the depths of soul. All at once in the distance footsteps were heard approaching. The paleness of chalk immediately settled upon the face of Antea; her half-open lips showed hurried breathing; her breast rose and fell in rapid motion. The unfortunate martyr felt certain that the retinue of invisible beings which heralded the approach of the corpse with the glassy eyes, was now coming toward her. But Cinna grasped her hands and endeavored to calm her agitation. “Antea, do not fear, for I too hear those footsteps. “ And after a moment he added: “That is Pontius, coming to greet us. ” 30 LET US FOLLOW HIM. Indeed at the turn of the path, the procura- tor, accompanied by two slaves, now came into view. He was a man of middle age; his face was oval, smooth, and carefully shaven, full of artificial dignity, and at the same time, showed care and weariness. “A greeting to thee, most noble Cinna, and to thee, divine Antea, ” he said, approaching the pistachio- tree. “Behold, after a cold night, the day has become scorching. May it prove favorable to you both, and may the health of Antea bloom like the hyacinths and the branches of apple-blossoms which adorn her litter. ” “Peace be with thee, and I bid thee wel- come,’' answered Cinna. The procurator seated himself upon a stone, looked at Antea, and knitting his brows imper- ceptibly, give utterance to these words: “Solitude gives birth to sorrow and sickness, and among the multitudes there is no room for fear, so I will give thee one advice. Unhappily this is not Antioch nor Caesaria; we have here neither races nor combats, and should a circus appear here, these enthusiasts would destroy it the following day. Here thou hearest only one word: ‘Faith,* and it seems to me that LET US FOLLOW HIM. 31 everything stands in the way of this ‘Faith/ I would prefer to be in Scythia, than here.” “What do you mean, Pilate?” “Indeed, I confess I have departed too far from the subject. Those cares are responsible for my wandering. I said that among the multitudes there is no room for fear. Look now, you may have a spectacle here to-day. A man should be satisfied with almost anything here in Jerusalem, but before all it is necessary that Antea be among the crowds at midday. To-day three men will die upon the cross. This is certainly better than nothing. * Besides, on account of the Passover, a most wonderful crowd of various kinds of rogues from all over the country, has ^flooded the city. Ye may have a good chance to look upon these crowds, for I shall see that ye have fine places near the crosses. I hope that the condemned will meet death with courage. One of them, a strange man, pretends to be the Son of God. He is as mild as a dove and in fact he did not commit any act worthy of the death penalty. ” “And hast thou condemned him to die upon the cross?” “I wished to evade trouble and besides did not care to disturb the nest of hornets buzzing around tho temple. They sent complaints 32 LET US FOLLOW HIM. against me to Rome, all the time — and after all, in this case, it was not a question of a Roman citizen/* “But that is no reason that this man would suffer less.** The procurator did not reply . . . After awhile he began to speak, as if talking to him- self: “There is one thing I cannot bear, and that is exaggeration. Anyone who pronounces that word in my presence, deprives me of my good humor for all day. The golden mean! Pru- dence advises us to act thus only, according to my judgment. And there is not a single cor- ner in this world, where this principle would have r less ^followers than here. O, how all these things torture me! how they torture me! . . . No quiet any place, no balance any- where, neither among the people, 'nor in nature. Now, for instance, spring is here, we have cool nights, and during the day comes such heat, that it is impossible to step upon the stones. “Midday is still far off, and look — what u going on! In regard to the people — it is best not to speak. I am here, because I have t^ be. But never mind all this! I would again wander from the subject. Go and see the LET US FOLLOW HIM. 35 crucifixion. I am certain that the Nazarene will die bravely. I gave orders to whip him, thinking thus to save him from death. My nature is not cruel. While they flogged him, he was meek as a lamb and even blessed the men. When blood flowed from his wounds, he lifted up his eyes and prayed. This is the most wonderful man I ever saw in my life. On his account my wife did not leave me in peace for a moment. ‘Do not allow the death of an innocent man!* this is what she has repeated to me constantly since dawn. And I desired to prevent his death. Twice I ascended the bema and addressed those infuriated priests and that scabby rabble. And they answered me with one voice, with their heads thrown backward, and their jaws open to the ears, ‘Crucify him!’ ” “And thou hast yielded to them?” asked Cinna. “Yes, because there would be a riot in the city, and my mission here is to preserve peace. I must fulfill my duties. I hate exaggeration, and, besides, I feel mortally tired, but when I undertake anything, I do not hesitate, foi the public good, to sacrifice the life of a single man, and especially the life of an unknown man, in whose behalf no one would care to 8 Follow Him 34 LET US FOLLOW HIM. appear. So much the worse for him that be is not a Roman/’ “Not only upon Rome does the sun shine,’* murmured Antea. “Divine Antea,*’ answered the procurator, “I could answer thee, that on the whole sphere of the earth the sun shines on Roman power, therefore for its good everything should be sacrificed, and all disturbances undermine our dignity. But, above all I pray thee do not demand of me that the sentence be changed. Cinna, also, will assure thee, that this is im- possible, for after the sentence is once pro- nounced, Caesar is the only one who can change it. I cannot, even though I would like to do so. Is this not true, Caius?’’ “Yes, *tis true.” But these words evidently hurt Antea, for she said, thinking, perhaps, of her own case: “So it is possible that one may suffer and die, being innocent?’* • “No one is entirely free from guilt,*’ answered Pontius. ‘That Nazarene did not commit any crime, therefore I, as a procurator, washed my hands, but as a man, I condemn his doctrine. I talked with him for some time in order to examine him, and I came to the conclusion that he preaches unheard of things. LET US FOLLOW HIM. 35 This state of things in difficult! The world must be founded upon sound reason. Who denies that virtue is necessary? Certainly, not I! Even the Stoics say that we shall bear adversity with serenity, but they do not expect that we shall deprive ourselves of everything, beginning with our fortunes and ending with our meals. “Say, Cinna — thou art a sensible man — what would&t thou think of me, if I should, without any provocation, give this house, in which thou art now living, to those ruffians who warm themselves in the sunlight at the Joppa portal? And such are the things he demands. “Besides this, he announces that we shall love all men equally; Hebrews just as much as the Romans, Romans just as much as Egyptians, Egyptians just as much as Africans, and so forth. I declare I had enough of it. “At the moment when there is a question of his life, he acts as if it did not concern him in the least; he preaches and prays. It is no duty of mine to save anyone, who himself does not care to be saved. Any man who does not know how to keep measure in everything, is not a prudent man. Besides, he styles himself the Son of God, therefore he destroys the principles upon which this world stands, ana 36 LET US FOLLOW HIM. he injures in this way, the interests of the people. Let him think, in his soul, whatever he wishes, but he must not dare to disturb the minds of others. As a man, I protest against his doctrines. Suppose I do not believe in the gods, this is my business. But I acknowledge the necessity of faith, and 1 say so publicly, because I am convinced that religion is a curb on the people. Horses must be harnessed, and harnessed well. After all, to that Nazar- ene, death cannot be a terrible thing; for he affirms that he shall rise from the dead. 99 Cinna and Antea gazed at each other in surprise. “That he will rise from the dead?” “After three days exactly. At least this is what his followers say. I neglected to ask him in regard to this. After all, this matters not, for death frees one from all promises. And in case he does not rise from the dead, he will not lose anything, for, according to his teachings, true happiness, with an eternal life, begins only after death. He asserts this indeed, as if he were entirely confident of it. In his Heaven there is more light, than under the sun. And whoever suffers more here, shall enter there more surely. He shall only love, love, and love. ” LET US FOLLOW HIM. 31 “A strange doctrine/ ’ said Antea. “And they called upon thee to crucify him?” asked Cinna. “And I do not wonder, after all. The soul of the people is hate, and hate very properly shall demand the cross for love.” Antea passed her thin hand over her fore- head. “Is he really certain that anyone can live and feel happy after death?” “That is the reason that neither the cross nor death have any terrors for him.” “How good that would be, Cinna!” Afterwhile she asked again: “How does he know this?” The procurator waved his hand and said: “He claims to know it from the Father of all men, who for the Hebrews is as much, as Jupiter for us, only with this difference, that according to the Nazarene, He is one and all merciful.” “Oh, how good it would be!” repeated Antea. Cinna opened his mouth, as though to reply, but kept silent, and the discussion ceased. Evidently Pontius was considering further the wonderful teachings of the Nazarene; he 38 LET US FOLLOW HIM. continually shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. Afte ‘while he arose to bid them farewell. Then suddenly Antea exclaimed: “Caius, let us go to see the Nazarene. ” “Then hurry, for the procession will start soon/’ said Pontius, leaving them. LET US FOLLOW HIM. 89 CHAPTER VII. The day, which from early morning had been clear but sultry, about noontime became cloudy. From the northeast dark and omin- ous clouds were floating, not very large, but heavy as if pregnant with a storm. Among them could still be seen the deep azure of the heavens, but it was plainly foreseen, that they would soon come in contact with each other and unite to cover the whole blue sphere In the meantime the sun illuminated their edges with fire and gold. Above the city itself and the adjoining hills a vast extent of blue sky was still visible, and down in the valley not a single breeze stirred the air. Upon the high plain, called Golgotha, were standing here and there small crowds of peo- ple, who had arrived in advance of the proces- sion, expected from the city. The sun cast a bright light upon wide stony spaces, which were exceedingly dismal, empty, and sterile. Their monotonous gray color was broken only by the black net of fissures and 40 LET US FOLLOW HIM. ravines, which appeared still more black in contrast to the plain, which was flooded with bright light. Further away were seen more lofty eminences, also gloomy, and half ob- scured by the bluish mist of distance. Lower, between the walls of the city and the eminence of Golgotha, lay a plain, less bar- ren, studded here and there with cliffs. There from crevices in which had become deposited a small amount of fertile earth, were visible the tops of fig-trees with poor and scanty foliage. Here and there reared buildings with flat roofs, as if pasted like swallors* nests to the stony walls, and whitewashed sepulchres were shining far away in the sunlight. Now, on account of the approaching holi- days and the afflux of countrymen into the city, had been erected near the city walls in- numerable tents and booths, which formed regular villages, filled with people and camels. On that expanse of the heavens, still clear of clouds, the sun rose higher and higher. Now the hours approached, when usually, on these eminences, deep silence reigned, as all living creatures sought refuge in the walls and crev- ices. And even now, notwithstanding the unusual life, a certain sorrow was visible in LET US FOLLOW HIM. 41 the whole neighborhood in which the blinding light fell not on verdant, but on sterile, stony spaces. The buzz of distant voices, ascending from the direction of the city walls, was changed into the murmur of waves, and seemed to be absorbed by the tranquillity. The single groups awaiting on Golgotha from early morning, directed their faces toward the city, whence the procession might be expected at any moment. Antea’s litter now arrived. It was preceded by a few soldiers, whom the procurator had ordered to open a way through the crowds, and in case of necessity defend them from the insults of the fanatical crowds, which hated foreigners. Cinna walked beside the litter, accompanied by the centurion Rufilus. Antea seemed to be quieter and less terrified now, with the approaching midday, with the danger of its horrible visions, which had sapped the very life from her. Everything the procurator had said about the young Naz- arene, captured her mind and directed her attention away from her own misery. There was something strange in all this which she was unable to comprehend. The world of that time had witnessed many men die as quietly, as a funeral pile expires when the wood burns 42 LET US FOLLOW HIM. out. But that was a quiet, rising from courage, or from a philosophical yielding to an inexorable need, exchanging light for dark- ness, real life for a hazy, incomprehensible and indefinite existence. Nobody yet had died with a firm certainty that only beyond the grave would begin a real existence, and such a powerful and endless happiness, as can be bestowed only by a being, omnipotent and eternal. And He, who had been condemned to be crucified, preached all this as an unquestiona- ble truth. His teachings not only absorbed the attention of Antea, but they became for her the only source of hope and consolation. She was convinced that she was going to die, and she was constantly overwhelmed with a deep sorrow. And indeed what was death to her?. It was, to leave Cinna, to leave her father, to leave the world, to leave love ; death was to her nothing but void and darkness. Therefore the more happiness life held for her, the greater her sorrow must be. If death could help her in anyway, or if she could take with her even the remembrance of love, or the memory of happiness, it would be easier for her to give herself up to quiet resignation. All at once, not e xpecting anything from LET US FOLLOW HIM. 43 death, she heard that death could give her everything. And who was he who had de- clared that? He was a strange man, a teacher, a prophet, a philosopher, who recommended to men love, as the highest virtue, who blessed them while being flogged, and who had been condemned to die upon the cross. So Antea thought: “Why did he teach thus, when the cross was his only reward? Others desired power — he did not care for it ; others sought wealth — he remained poor; others loved palaces, feasts, luxuries, robes of purple, costly chariots inlaid with ivory and pearl — he lived like a shepherd. Besides this he taught love, pity, poverty; hence he could not be an evil man, who purposely deceived men. If he taught the truth, in such a case let death be blessed, as the termination of all earthly mis- eries, as the change from a lower to a higher happiness, as a light to the eyes of the dying, and as wings on which one may soar away to eternal joy !” Now Antea fully understood what was meant by the announcement of resurrection. The mind and heart of the sick woman clung with all their might to his teachings. She recol- lected also the words of her father, who had repeatedly said, that nothing but some entirely LET US FOLLOW HIM, 44 new truth, might save the oppressed soul of men from darkness and liberate them from their shackles. And here at last was the new truth ! This truth had conquered death, hence it had brought salvation. Antea’s whole being was submerged in these thoughts, and Cinna for the first time after many, many days did not see in her face any fear, as midday approached. At last the procession started from the city toward Golgotha, and it could be seen plainly from the elevated spot where Antea’s litter was standing. The crowd was enormous, but seemed almost lost on those vast, stony spaces. From the open gate of the city, poured more and more people, who were joined on their way by those who were waiting outside of the walls. At first they moved in a long, winding trail, which constantly broad- ened like a swollen river, as it went forward. At each side swarms of children ran along. The procession shone with the variegated hues of the white tunics, and the scarlet and blue kerchiefs of the women. In the middle gleamed the arms and spears of Roman soldiers, which glittered in the sunlight as if touched by fleeting rays. The tumult of con- LET US FOLLOW HIM. 45 fused voices was borne from afar, and grad- ually became more and more distinct. At last they approached and the front ranks began to ascend the elevation. The crowd rushed forward to secure the nearest places to witness the torment unobstructed. The company of soldiers, conducting the con- demned, was thus left far in the rear. The first arrivals were children, principally boys, half naked, with rags tied about their hips, with heads cropped closely, except two locks of hair near the temple, tanned, with eyes almost blue, and rough voices. In the midst of the wild uproar they began to dig and scrape out of the crevices small stony fragments to throw at the condemned. Immediately following them the whole plain thronged with a heterogeneous mob. Their faces were burning with excitement and ex- pectation. But not one face showed a trace of pity or compassion. The clamor of harsh voices, the enormous number of words ejected from each mouth, the quickness of their move- ments, all amazed Antea, notwithstanding that in Alexandria she was accustomed to the noisy liveliness of Greeks. Here the people con- versed with each other as though they wished to throw themselves at one another. They 46 LET US FOLLOW HIM. called to each other, as if begging for help. They disputed, as if some one was cheating them. The centurion Rufilus drew near to the litter and gave explanations in a quiet, military tone. In the meantime from the city flowed up new multitudes. The throng grew rapidly with each moment. In the crowd were seen opulent citizens of Jerusalem clothed in striped tunics; they held themselves apart from the miserable rabble of the suburbs. There arrived also in great numbers, villagers, who, with their families, had come into the city to celebrate the festival. There were also many field laborers, girdled with bags, and shepherds, with kindly and astonished faces, dressed in goatskins. Crowds of women ac- companied the men. However, as the wealthier women living in the city unwillingly go out from their homes, this crowd was composed mostly of women of the people, villagers or showily dressed women of the street, with dyed hair, eyebrows, and nails, heavily perfumed with nard, wearing immense earrings and necklaces of varied coins. Finally the Sanhedrim arrived, and with it Hanaan, an old man with eagle face and blood- shot eyes; there arrived also the heavy LET US FOLLOW HIM. 47 Caiphas, wearing a two-cornered cap and bear- ing a gilded tablet at his breast. With them marched different classes of Pharisees, as, for instance, those “dragging their legs,” who purposely strike their feet against all obstacles. Pharisees with “bloody foreheads,” who also purposely beat them against the walls, and Pharisees “bent down,” as if ready to bear the burdens of the sins of the entire city upon their shoulders. Sullen dignity and cold inso- lence distinguished them from the noisy crowd of common people. Cinna contemplated this rabble, with the haughty and contemptuous face of a man, belonging to the dominant race; Antea, with surprise and fear. Many Hebrews lived in Alexandria, but there they were half Greek. But here she saw them for the first time, just as the procurator had represented them and as they really appeared in their native nest. Her young face, upon which was already im- printed the stamp of death, and her shadow- like form, attracted universal attention. They stared at her insolently as much as they were allowed by the soldiers surrounding her litter. But here was borne such contempt and hate for strangers, that nobody’s eyes showed any compassion; they glittered rather with joy, 48 LET US FOLLOW HIM. that the victim could not escape death. Only just v, ,o\7 did Antea understand why these peo- ple demanded the cross for the prophet, who taught -Ove. That Nazarene at once appeared to her as someone so near that he was almost dear to her. He had to die, and also she had to die. Nothing could save Him after the sentence had been pronounced. And upon her also sentence had fallen; therefore it seemed to Antea that they were united by the fraternity of misery and death. But He marched to the cross with faith in a life after death ; she as yet had not that faith and she came to draw it from the sight of Him. In the meantime, from the distance arose a tumult, whistling, howling — then all was hush- ed in silence. Then was heard the clinking of arms and the measured tread of the soldiers. The multitude swayed, cleared a way and the company, conducting the condemned, began to pass near the litter. At the head, at each side, and behind marched soldiers with slow and even steps. In their midst were seen three arms of crosses, which seemed to ad- vance by themselves, as they were carried by men bent under their burden. It was easy to guess that neither of those three was the Naz- LET US FOLLOW HIM. 49 arene ; two of them had the repulsive faces of thieves, the third was a middle-aged plain villager, evidently forced by the soldiers to bear this burden for another. The Nazarene followed behind the crosses, and after him closely walked two soldiers. He walked with a purple mantle thrown over his garments, and upon his head a crown of thorns; from under the points of this crown issued drops of blood. Some of which coursed slowly down his face, while some had coagulated right under the crown, like berries of the wild rose, or beads of coral. He was pale, and walked slowly, with weakened and shaky steps. He pro- ceeded amid the railing of the throng, as if buried in thoughts of a better world, as if torn away from the earth, as if ignoring the cries of hate, or as if forgiving beyond the limits of human forgiveness, and as if merciful, beyond the limits of human mercy; for He was already absorbed with infinity, already elevated beyond earthly gold, very quiet, mild and extremely sorrowful with the sorrows of the whole world. “Thou art the Truth,” Antea murmured with trembling lips. Now the procession was passing right beside her litter. There was even a moment when it stopped, while the soldiers in advance were 4 Follow Him 50 LET US FOLLOW HIM. opening the way through the crowd. Antea saw the Nazarene at only a few steps distant. She saw the breeze gently lift the locks of His hair, she saw the ruddy reflection falling from His mantle upon His pale and transparent face. The rabble, rushing upon Him, en- circled closely the soldiers, who were compelled to form a barricade with their shields to pro- tect Him from their fury. All around were seen outstretched arms with clenched fists, eyes bursting from the sockets, shining teeth, beards disheveled from their furious motions, and foaming lips throwing out harsh cries. But He, glancing around, as if wishing to ask: “What did I do to ye?” lifted up his eyes toward heaven, and prayed, and forgave. “Antea, Antea!” exclaimed Cinna at that moment. But it seemed as if Antea heard not his voice. From her eyes flowed great tears; she forgot her sickness, she forgot that for a long time she had not been able to rise from her litter. Suddenly she rose up trembling, half conscious from sorrow, compassion, and indig- nation at the wild cries of the mob; she plucked hyacinths and apple-blossoms from her litter, and threw them as the feet of the Nazarene. LET US FOLLOW HIM. 51 All voices ceased for a moment. Astonish- ment subdued the mob, at the sight of this distinguished Roman lady, honoring the Con- demned. He turned His eyes toward her pale, sickly face, and his lips moved, as if blessing her. Antea, falling upon the pillows of her litter, felt that upon her descended a whole sea of light, goodness, mercy, hope, courage, and happiness. And again she murmured: “Thou art the Truth!” Then a new wave of tears filled her eyes. But He was pushed ahead several steps from the litter at the place where already had been erected the uprights of three crosses. The mob surrounded Him again, but as that place was much higher, Antea soon again saw His pale face and the crown of thorns. The soldiers again attacked the crowd and forced them back that they might not interfere with the execution. Now they began to fasten the two thieves to the crosses on either side. The third cross stood between with a white card fixed at the top with a large nail; the ever increasing breeze fluttered and pulled vehemently at the card. When the soldiers approached the Nazarene to disrobe Him, cries went up from the throng: 52 LET US FOLLOW HIM. ‘King! King! Do not succumb, King!” '‘Where hast thou thy legions? Defend thy- self!” At moments derisive laughter burst forth, which carried away the mob, and then the whole stormy expanse resounded with one echo. They stretched Him upon the ground to nail His hands to the cross-beam and after- ward raised Him to the main pillar. Then a man, standing near the litter and clothed in a white tunic, suddenly threw him- self on the ground, gathered handfuls of dust and stones, and cast them on his head, and cried with a terrible voice, full of despair: “I was a leper — He cured me — and they crucify Him!” The face of Antea became pale as death. “He healed him! Caius, dost thou hear it?” said she. “Dost thou desire to return?” asked Cinna. “No! I wish to remain here!’’ And Cinna too was overcome by a wild de- spair, because he had not summoned the Naz- arene to his house to heal Antea. But then soldiers placed the nails to His hands and began to strike them. At first was heard the dull clang of iron striking iron, but this was ,soon followed by a deeper sound, when the point of the nails, having passed LET US FOLLOW HIM. 53 through the flesh, penetrated the wood. The crowds had quieted down again, very likely expecting to enjoy the groans which the torture might wring from the lips of the Naz- arene. But He remained quiet, and over the plain echoed only the ominous and terrible strokes of the hammer. At last the work was finished. They drew up the cross beam with the body. The centu- rion, directing the work, pronounced, or rather sang in a monotonous voice, words of com- mand, in accordance with which, one of the soldiers proceeded to nail the feet. Just at this time those clouds, which from early morning had appeared and gradually spread over the horizon, now obscured the sun. The distant rocks and elevations, which had shone in radiance, ceased to gleam. The world was enveloped in darkness. An omin- ous, reddish gloom settled upon the whole country and became heavier as the sun sank lower behind the banks of clouds. It seemed that someone from above was scattering red- dish darkness upon the earth. The hot wind blew once, and then again, then all was quiet. The air became sultry. All at once even those remaining streaks of light became black. Clouds, gloomy as night, 54 LET US FOLLOW HIM. rolled and advanced like a gigantic billow, toward the plain and the city. A storm was coming. The world was filled with alarm. “Let us go?” exclaimed Cinna again. “Again, again, I desire to see Him!” answered Antea. When the darkness had obscured the hang- ing forms, Cinna had given order to bring the litter nearer the place of execution. They approached so closely, that hardly a few steps intervened between them and the cross. On the dark cross was seen the body of the Cruci- fied which, amidst the universal darkness, seemed as if interwoven with the silver rays of the moon. His breast heaved with rapid breathing. His head and eyes were still lifted up. From the depths of the clouds was heard a dull rumbling. Thunder arose, and rolled and echoed with a terrific crash, from east to west; and there, as if falling into a bottomless abyss, reverberated lower and deeper, dying away, then again strengthening, till at last it burst with a crash, that shook the earth at its very foundations. At the same moment a tremendous livid flash of lightning tore asunder the clouds, illumined the heavens, the earth, the crosses, the arms LET US FOLLOW HIM. 55 of the soldiers, and the terrified and alarmed throng crowded together like a flock of sheep. Still heavier darkness dominated after that lightning flash. Near the litter were heard the sobs of women, who also had come nearer the cross. Those sobs amid silence were soul piercing. Those who had become lost in the crowds, called now to each other. Here and there shrill voices were heard. “Oyah! oy lanu! Has not the Just One been crucified?” “The One who gave testimony to truth! Oyah!” “The One who raiseth the dead! Oyah!” And other voices cried: “Woe to thee, Jerusalem!” Others exclaimed: “The earth shook!” Another flash of lightning opened the depths of the heavens and revealed in them enormous forms of fire. All voices were hushed, or rather were drowned in the roaring of the winds, which instantly rose with gigantic power, carrying away numbers of kerchiefs, and mantles, and whirled them away over the plain. The voices arose again : “The earth shakes'” 56 LET US FOLLOW HIM. Some started to run. Others stood as if chained to the spot by terror, thunder-struck, without thought, filled with the dull impres- sion only, that something terrible was happen- ing. Then the darkness suddenly became less dense. Wind carried the clouds onward, rolled and tore them like old rags. The light grew gradually. At last the dark covering was torn and through the opening poured suddenly a flood of sunlight. Soon the light reached the whole elevation, and revealed the crosses, and the terrified faces of the crowds. The head of the Nazarene, pale as wax, had drooped low upon His breast. His eye-lids were closed, His lips were blue. “He is dead,” murmured Antea. “He is dead,” repeated Cinna. Then the centurion raised his spear and thrust it into the side of the Crucified. A strange and curious thing: the reappearance of the light and the sight of His death seemed to pacify the mob. They now approached nearer and nearer, as the soldiers did not hinder them. From amidst the crowd voices cried out: “Come down from the cross! Why don't you come down?” Once more Antea fixed her eyes upon that LET US FOLLOW HIM. 57 pale, drooping head and whispered softly, as if to herself : 14 Indeed, He will rise from the dead!” In the presence of death, which had placed blue spots upon His lids and lips, in the presence of those arms, strained to the utmost, in the presence of that motionless body, which had lowered with the gravity of dead things, her voice trembled with despairing hopeless- ness. Cinna’s soul was equally tortured by despair as great. He also did not believe that the Nazarene would rise from the dead, but he believed that if He had remained upon earth He was the only one, who, with His power, whether good or evil, could have cured Antea. In the meantime many more voices cried out: “Come down from the cross! Come down!” “Come down!” repeated Cinna, with despair in his soul. “Heal her, take my soul!” It cleared more and more. The heights were still concealed by the haze, but above the plain and the city Che skies were serene. “Furris Antonia” drone in v;he ounlight, as brilliant as the sun itself. The rlr was fresh and was filled with flying swallows. Cinna gave order to return. *8 LET US FOLLOW HIM. It was afteri>oon, and Antea said as they neared the house: “Hecate has not appeared to-day.” Cinna’s mind was also occupied with this thought. LET US FOLLOW HIM, 59 CHAPTER VIII. And again the next day the vision did not appear. The sick woman was unusually live^. Timon had arrived from Caesarea; he was very anxious for the life of his daughter and alarmed by Cinna’s letters, so he had left Alexandria a few days ago, to see once more his only child before her death. Hope began to knock again at Cinna’s heart, as if demanding to be admitted. But he did not dare to open the door to this guest, — did not have the courage to hope again. Though in the visions, which had been tormenting Antea, there had been some intermissions, they were never of two days duration, but of one day, in Alexandria, and also during their stay in the desert. The present encourage- ment Cinna ascribed to the arrival of Timon, and to her impressions at the cross, which so filled Antea’s soul, that even with her father, she could speak of nothing else. Timon listened to her with absorbed atten- tion, did not deny anything, but pondered. 60 LET US FOLLOW HIM. He questioned minutely about the teachings of the Nazarene, of which, however, Antea knew nothing more, than what she had heard from the procurator. Antea was feeling considerably better and stronger, in general, and when midday arrived and passed, her eyes were animated with real hope and courage. Several times she had called that a very prosperous day and asked her husband to make note of it. But the day was in reality gloomy and sor- rowful. Rain had fallen since early morning; it was at first very heavy, afterward lighter, driving, from low-hanging, monotonous-look- ing clouds. Toward evening the skies cleared and the great fiery orb of the sun, shone out through the mist, painted with gold and purple the clouds, the sombre rocks, the white marble portals of the villas, and flowed down in bril- liant rays toward the Mediterranean. The next day was beautiful. The morning dawned clear and bright, the air was fresh and balmy and gave promise of fine weather. The skies were without a single cloud; the earth was so submerged in a bath of azure, that all objects appeared blue. Antea gave order to carry her litter out and place it beneath the shade of her favorite LET US FOLLOW HIM. 61 pistachio-tree. She longed to delight herself with the gay and blue extent, from the favor- able height on which the tree grew. Cinna and Timon did not leave Antea’s litter for a moment ; they studied attentively the face o^ the sick woman. There was upon her face some disquiet of expectation. But it did not show that mortal fear, which used to take pos- session of her at the approach of midday. Her eyes shone lovelier and her cheeks flushed with a slight color. At moments Cinna thought indeed, that Antea might be restored to health; and at the very thought of it, he felt like throwing himself upon the ground, sobbing from happiness and blessing the gods. At moments again he was overcome by the fear, that perhaps this was only the last flame of the dying lamp. Desir- ing to draw out hope from somewhere, at least, he looked at Timon’s face, every few minutes; but the same thoughts must have •occupied Timon’s mind, as he carefully avoided meeting Cinna’s eyes. Not one of those three gave evidence by a single word that they noticed the approach of midday. But Cinna every moment measuring the shadows with his eyes, noticed with beating heart how they gradually became shorter and shorter. 62 LET US FOLLOW HIM. And they sat together, as if buried in medi- tation. Perhaps Antea herself was the calmest of all. Lying in the open litter, her head rest- ing on a purple pillow, she was breathing with satisfaction the pure air which the breeze was bringing up from the west, from the distant sea. However, before midday the breeze ceased. The heat became greater. The peppermint of the cliffs and the aromatic bunches of nard, heated by the rays of the sun, threw out a heavy and intoxicating odor. Brilliant butter- flies poised themselves above the clusters of anemones. From the clefts of the rocks tiny lizards, being accustomed to the litter and those people, crawled cautiously out, one after the other, as usual, confident, and also care- fully watching every movement. The whole world was hushed in that radiant tranquillity, in that soothing warmth, that serene sweetness, and azure drowsiness. Timon and Cinna seemed also to be envel- oped in that sunny peace. Antea closed her eyes as if overcome by a light sleep. The silence remained unbroken, save by the occa- sional sighs, which rose from their breasts. Then Cinna noticed that his shadow had lost LET US FOLLOW HIM. 63 its prolonged shape and was lying close at his feet. It was midday. Suddenly Antea opened her eyes and cried out in a strange voice : “Cinna, give me thy hand!” He sprang up and all his blood was chilled to ice in his veins, for it was the hour of Antea’s terrible visions. And her eyes opened wider and wider. ‘‘Dost thou see,” said she, “how the light gathers there in the air, how it trembles, glitters, and draws near to me?” “Antea, look not there, I pray!” cried Cinna. But, O, wonder ! there was no terror on her face. Her lips were open, her eyes shone brighter and joy beyond measure illuminated her face. “The pillar of light is approaching toward me," said she further. “I see! That is He, theNazarene! Omild! . . . O, merciful! . . . He stretches out His transfixed hands to me, like a mother . . . Cinna! He brings me health, salvation, and calls me to Himself.” And Cinna became very pale and said : “Whithersoever He leads us, let us follow Him!” On the other side, upon the stony path, lead- 04 LET US FOLLOW HIM. ing toward the city, a moment later, appeared Pontius Pilate. Before he reached them, it was evident from his face that he was bringing fresh tidings, which he, being a man of sound judgment, looked upon, as a new and absurd fabrication of the ignorant and fanatic multi- tude. While still afar off, wiping drops of sweat from his forehead, he cried out: “Just imagine, what those people assert: ‘He has risen from the dead!' 99 THE END, DREAMS. 6 5 “I THOUGHT I STOOD.” I. I thought I stood in Heaven before God’s throne, and God asked me what I had come for. I said I had come to arraign my brother, Man. God said, “What has he done?” I said, “He has taken my sister, Woman, and has stricken her, and wounded her, and thrust her out into the streets; she lies there prostrate. His hands are red with blood. I am here to arraign him; that the kingdom be taken from him, because he is not worthy, and given unto me. My hands are pure.” I showed them. God said, “Thy hands are pure. Lift up thy robe.” I raised it; my feet were red, blood-red, as if I had trodden in wine. God said, “How is this” I said, “Dear Lord, the streets on earth are full of mire. If I should walk straight on in them my outer robe might be bespotted, you 5 Dreams 66 DREAMS. see how white it is! Therefore I pick my way. M God said, “On what?“ I was silent, and I let my robe fall. I wrapped my mantle about my head. I went out softly. I was afraid that the angels would see me. II. Once more I stood at the gate of Heaven. I and another. We held fast by one another; we were very tired. We looked up at the great gates; the angels opened them, and we went in. The mud was on our garments. We walked across the marble floor, and up to the great throne. Then the angels divided us. Her, they set upon the top step, but me, upon the bottom; for, they said “Last time this woman came here she left red foot-marks on the floor; we had to wash them out with our tears. Let her not go up.” Then she, with whom I came, looked back, and stretched out her hand to me; and I went and stood beside her. And the angels, they, the shining ones who never sinned and never suffered, walked by us to and fro and up and down; I think we should have felt a little lonely there if it had not been for one another, the angels were so bright. DREAMS. 6Y God asked me what I have come for; and I drew my sister forward a little that he might see her. God said, “How is it you are here together to-day?’ ’ I said, “She was upon the ground in the street, and they passed over her; I laydown by her, and she put her arms around my neck, and so I lifted her, and we two rose together.” God said, “Whom are you now come to accuse before me?” I said, “We are come to accuse no man.” And God bent, and said, “My children* — what is it that ye seek?” And she beside me drew my hand that I should speak for both. I said, “We have come to ask that thou shouldst speak to Man, our brother, and give us a message for him that he might under- stand, and that he might ” God said, “Go, take the message down to him!” I said. “But what is the message?” God said, “Upon your hearts it is written; take it down to him. ” And we turned to go ; the angels went with US to the door. They looked at us. 68 DREAMS. And one said — “Ai! but their dresses are beautiful!” And the other said, ‘‘I thought it was mire when they came in, but see, it is all golden!” But another said, ‘‘Hush, it is the light from their faces!” And we went down to him. Alassio, Italy, DREAMS. 69 THE SUNLIGHT LAY ACROSS MY bed,— In the dark one night I lay upon my bed. I heard the policeman’s feet beat on the pave- ment ; I heard the wheels of carriages roll home from houses of entertainment; I heard a woman’s laugh below my window and then I fell asleep. And in the dark I dreamt a dream. I dreamt God took my soul to Hell. Hell was a fair place ; the water of the lake was blue. I said to God, “I like this place.” God said, “Ay, dost thou!” Birds sang, turf came to the water-edge, — and trees grew from it. Away off among the trees I saw beautiful women walking. Their clothes were of many delicate colors and clung to them, and they were tall and graceful, and had yellow hair. Their robes trailed over the grass. They glided in and out among the trees, and over their heads hung yellow fruit like large pears of melted gold. 70 DREAMS. I said, “It is very fair; I would go up and taste the ” God said, “Wait." And after a while I noticed a very fair woman pass ; she looked this way and that, and drew down a branch, and it seemed she kissed the fruit upon it softly, and went on her way, and her dress made no rustle as she passed over the grass. And when I saw her no more, from among the stems came another woman fair as she had been, in a delicate tinted robe ; she looked this way and that. When she saw no one there she drew down the fruit, and when she had looked over it to find a place, she put her mouth to it softly, and went away. And I saw other and other women come, making no noise, and they glided away also over the grass. And I said to God, “What are they doing?’* God said, “They are poisoning.” And I said, “How?” God said, “They touch it with their lips; when they have made a tiny wound in it with their fore-teeth they set in it that which is under their tongues; they close it with their lip — that no man may see the place, and pass on.” I said to God, "Why do they do it?” God said, “That another may not eat.” DREAMS. 71 I said to God, “But if they poison all, then none dare eat; what do they gain?” God said, “Nothing.” I said, “Are they not afraid they themselves may bite where another has bitten?” God said, “They are afraid. In Hell all men fear. ’ ' He called me further. And the water of the lake seemed less blue. Then, to the right among the trees were men working. And I said to God, “I should like to go and work with them. Hell must be a very fruitful place place, the grass is so green.” God said, “Nothing grows in the garden they are making. ” We stood looking; and I saw them working among the bushes, digging holes, but in them they set nothing ; and when they had covered them with sticks and earth each went a way off and sat behind the bushes watching; and I noticed that as each walked he set his foot down carefully, looking where he trod. I said to God, “What are they doing?” God said, “Making pitfalls into which their fellows may sink. ” I said to God, “Why do they do it?” 72 DREAMS. God said, “Because each thinks that when his brother falls he will rise.” I said to God,“ How will he rise?” God said, “He will not rise.” And I saw their eyes gleam from behind the bushes. I said to God, “Are these men sane?” God said, “They are not sane; there is no sane man in Hell. ” And he told me to come further. And I looked where I trod. And we came where Hell opened into a plain, and a great house stood there. Marble pillars upheld the roof, and white marble steps led up to it. The wind of heaven blew through it. Only at the back hung a thick curtain. Fair men and women there feasted at long tables. They danced, and I saw the robes of women flutter in the air and heard the laugh of strong men. What they feasted with was wine; they drew it from large jars which stood somewhat in the background, and I saw the wine sparkle as they drew it. And I said to God, “I should like to go up and drink/’ And God said, “Wait.” And I saw men coming into the banquet-house ; they came in from the back and lifted the corner of the curtain at the sides and crept in quickly; DREAMS. 73 and they let the curtain fall behind them, they bore great jars they could hardly carry. And the men and women crowded round them, and the newcomers opened their jars and gave them of the wine to drink ; and I saw that the women drank even more greedily than the men. And when others had well drunken they set the jars among the old ones beside the wall, and took their places at the table. And I saw that some of the jars were very old and mildewed and dusty, but others had still drops of new must on them and shone from the fur- nace. And I said to God, “What is that?” For amid the sound of the singing, and over the dancing of feet, and over the laughing across the wine-cups, I heard a cry. And God said, “Stand a way off.” And he took me where I saw both sides of the curtain. Behind the house was the wine- press where the wine was made. I saw the grapes crushed, and I heard them cry. I said, “Do not they on the other side hear it?” God said, “The curtain is thick; they are feasting.” And I said, “But the men who came in last. They saw?” 74 DREAMS. God said, “They let the curtain fall behind them — and they forgot !” I said, “How came they by their jars of wine?” God said, “In the treading of the press these are they who came to the top; they have climbed out over the edge and filled their jars from below, and have gone into the house.” And I said, “And if they had fallen as they climbed?” God said, “They had been wine.” I stood a way off watching in the sunshine, and I shivered. God lay in the sunshine watching too. Then there rose one among the feasters, who said, “My brethren, let us pray!” And all the men and women rose: and strong men bowed their heads, and mothers folded their little children’s hands together, and turned their faces upward, to the roof. And he who first had risen stood at the table head and stretched out both his hands, and his beard was long and white, and his sleeves and his beard had been dipped in wine; and because the sleeves were wide and full they held much wine, and it dropped down upon the floor. And he cried, “My brothers and my sisters, let us pray.” DREAMS. 75 And all the men and women answered, “Let us pray. ” He cried, “For this fair banquet-house we thank thee, Lord. ” And all the men and women said, “We thank thee, Lord. ” “Thine is this house, dear Lord." “Thine is this house.* ’ “For us hast thou made it." “For us.” “Oh, fill our jars with wine, dear Lord.” “Our jars with wine. ” “Give peace and plenty in our time, dear Lord. * * “Peace and plenty in our time. ” — I said to God, “Whom is it they are talking to?” God said, “Do I know whom they speak of?” And I saw they were looking up at the roof; but out in the sunshine, God lay. “ dear Lord!” “Dear Lord.” “Our children’s children, Lord, shall rise and call thee blessed.” “Our children’s children, Lord.” — I said to God, “The grapes are crying!” God said, “Still! I hear them” — —“shall call thee blessed. ” “Shall call thee blessed.” 76 DREAMS. “Pour forth more wine upon us, Lord.” “More wine. ” “More wine.” “More wine!” “Wine! !” “Wine! ! ” “Wine ! ! ! ” “Dear Lord!” Then men and women sat down and the feast went on. And mothers poured out wine and fed their little children with it, and men held up the cup to women’s lips and cried, “Beloved! drink,” and women filled their lovers’ flagons and held them up ; and yet the feast went on. And after a while I looked, and I saw the curtain that hung behind the house moving. I said to God, “Is it a wind?” God said, “A wind.” And it seemed to me, that against the cur- tain I saw pressed the forms of men and women. And after a while the feasters saw it move, and they whispered, one to another. Then some rose and gathered the most worn- out cups, and into them they put what was left at the bottom of other vessels. Mothers whis- pered to their children, “Do not drink all, save a little drop when you have drunk.” And DREAMS. 77 when they had collected all the dregs they slipped the cups out under the bottom of the curtain without lifting it. After a while the curtain left off moving. I said to God, “How is it so quiet ?” He said, “They have gone away to drink it. ” I said, “They drink it — their own!” God said, “It comes from this side of the curtain, and they are very thirsty . 0 Then the feast went on, and after a while I saw a small, white hand slipped in below the curtain’s edge along the floor; and it motioned toward the wine jars. And I said to God, “Why is that hand so bloodless?” And God said, “It is a wine-pressed hand.” And men saw it and started to their feet; and women cried, and ran to the great wine jars, and threw their arms around them, and cried, “Ours, our own, our beloved!” and twined their long hair about them. I said to God, “Why are they frightened of that one small hand?” God answered, “Because it is so white.” And men ran in a great company toward the curtain, and struggled there. I heard them strike upon the floor. And when they moved 18 DREAMS. away the curtain hung smooth and .still ; and there was a small stain upon the floor. I said to God, “Why do they not wash it out?” God said, “They cannot.” And they took small stones and put them down along the edge of the curtain to keep it down. Then the men and women sat down again at the tables. And I said to God, “Will those stones keep it down?” God said, “What think you?” “I said, “If the wind blew ” God said, “If the wind blew?” And the feast went on. And suddenly I cried to God, “If one should rise among them, even of themselves, and start up from the table and should cast away his cup, and cry, ‘My brothers and sisters, stay! what is it that we drink?’ — and with his sword should cut in two the curtain, and hold- ing wide the fragments, cry, ‘Brothers, sisters, see! it is not wine, not wine, notwine! My brothers, oh, my sisters — !’ and he should over- turn the ” God said, “Be still! — , see there.” I looked: before the banquet-house, among the grass, I saw a row of mounds, flowers DREAMS. 79 covered them, and gilded marble stood at their heads. I asked God what they were. He answered, “They are the graves of those who rose up at the feast and cried. ” And I asked God how they came there. He said, “The men of the banquet-house rose and cast them down backward. * I said, “Who buried them?” God said, “The men who cast them down.” I said, “How came it that they threw them down, and then set marble over them?” God said, “Because the bones cried out, they covered them.” And among the grass and weeds I saw an unburied body lying; and I asked God why it was. God said, “Because it was thrown down only yesterday. In a little while, when the flesh shall have fallen from its bones, they will bury it also, and plant flowers over it.” And still the feast went on. Men and women sat at the tables quaffiing great bowls. Some rose, and threw their arms about each other, and danced and sang. They pledged each other in the wine, and kissed each other's blood-red lips. Higher and higher grew the revels. Men, when they had drunk till they could no 80 DREAMS. longer, threw what was left in their glasses tip to the roof, and let it fall back in cascades. Women dyed their children’s garments in the wine, and fed them on it till their tiny mouths were red. Sometimes, as the dancers whirled, they overturned a vessel, and their garments were bespattered. Children sat upon the floor with great bowls of wine, and swam rose leaves on it for boats. They put their hands in the wine and blew large red bubbles. And higher and higher grew the revels, and wilder the dancing, and louder and louder the singing. But here and there among the rev- elers were those who did not revel. I saw that at the tables, here and there, were men who sat with their elbows on the board and hands shading their eyes; they looked into the wine- cup beneath them, and did not drink. And when one touched them lightly on the shoulder, bidding them to rise and dance and sing, they started, and they looked down, and sat there watching the wine in the cup, but they did not move. And here and there I saw a woman sit apart. The others danced and sang and fed their children, but she sat silent with her head aside as though she listened. Her little children plucked her gown ; she did not see them ; she DREAMS. 81 was listening to some sound, but she did not stir. The revels grew higher. Men drank till they could drink no longer, and lay their heads upon the table sleeping heavily. Women who could dance no more leaned back on the benches with their heads against their lovers* shoulders. Little children, sick with wine, lay down upon the edges of their mothers' robes. Sometimes a man rose suddenly and as he staggered struck the tables and over- threw the benches; some leaned upon the bal- ustrades sick unto death. Here and there one rose who staggered to the wine jars and lay down beside them. He turned the wine tap, but sleep overcame him as he lay there, and the wine ran out. Slowly the thin, red stream ran across the white marbled floor; it reached the stone steps; slowly, slowly, slowly it trickled down, from step to step from step to step; then it sank into the earth. A thin white smoke rose from it. I was silent; I could not breathe; but God called me to come further. And after I had traveled for a while I came where on seven hills lay the ruins of a mighty 6 Dreams 82 DREAMS. banquet-house larger and stronger than the one which I had seen standing. I said to God, “What did the men who built it here?” God said, “They feasted.” I said, “On what?” God said, “On wine.” And I looked; and it seemed tQ. me that behind the ruins lay still a large circular hol- low within the earth where a foot of the wine- press had stood. I said to God, “How came it that this large house fell?” God said, “Because the earth was sodden.” He called me to come further. And at last we came upon a hill where blue waters played, and white marble lay upon the earth. I said to God, “What was hei^e once?” God said, “A pleasure-house.” I looked, and at my feet great pillars lay. I cried aloud for joy to God, “The marble blossoms!” God said, “Ay, ’twas a fairy house. There has not been one like to it, nor ever shall be. The pillars and the porticos blossomed, and the wine-cups were as gathered flowers; on this side all the curtain was broidered with fair designs, the stitching was of gold. ’ ’ DREAMS. 83 I said to God, “How came it that it fell?” God said, “On the side of the wine-press it was dark.” And as we traveled, we came where lay a mighty ridge of sand, and a dark river ran there ; and there rose two vast mounds. I said to God, “They are very mighty.” God said, “Ay, exceeding great.” And I listened. God asked me what I was listening to. And I said, “A sound of weeping, and I hear the sound of strokes, but I cannot tell whence it comes. ” God said, “It is the echo of the wine-press lingering still among the coping stones upon the mounds. A banquet-house stood here.” And he called me to come further. Upon a barren hillside, where the soil was arid, God called me to stand still. And I looked around. God said, “There was a feasting-house here once upon a time.” I said to God, “I see no mark of any!” God said, “There was yet left one stone upon another that has not been thrown down.” And I looked round; and on the hillside was a lonely grave. I said to God, “Who lies there?” 84 DREAMS. He said, “a vine truss, bruised in the wine- press !” And at the head of the grave stood a cross, and on its foot lay a crown of thorns. And as I turned to go, I looked backward. The wine-press and the banquet-house were gone; but the grave yet stood. And when I came to the edge of a long ridge there opened out before me a wide plain of sand. And when I looked downward I saw great stones lie shattered ; and the desert sand had half covered them over. «I said to God, “There is writing on them, but I cannot read it.” And God blew aside the desert sand, and I read the writing: “Weighed in the balance, and found — ” but the last word was wanting. And I said to God, “It was a banquet- house.” God said, “Ay, a banquet-house.” I said, “There was a wine-press here?” God said, “There was a wine-press.” I asked no further question. I was very weary; I shaded my eyes with my hand, and looked through the pink evening light. Far off, across the sand, I saw two figures standing. With wings unfolded high above their heads, and stern faces set, neither man DREAMS. 85 nor beast, they looked out across the desert sand, watching, watching, watching! I did not ask God what they were, for I knew what the answer would be. And, further and yet further, in the evening light, I looked with my shaded eyes. Far off, where the sands were thick and heavy, I saw a solitary pillar standing; the crown had fallen, and the sand had buried it. On the broken pillar sat a gray owl of the desert, with folded wings; and in the evening light I saw the desert fox creep past it, trail- ing his brush across the sand. Further, yet further, as I looked across the desert, I saw the sand gathered into heaps as though it covered something. I cried to God, “Oh, I am so weary.” God said, “You have seen only one half of Hell.'” I said, ‘I cannot see more, I am afraid of Hell. In my own narrow little path I dare not walk, because I think that one has dug a pit- fall for me ; and if I put my hand to take a fruit I draw it back again because I think it has been kissed already. If I look out across the plains, the mounds are burial heaps; and when I pass among the stones I hear them cry- ing aloud. When I see men dancing I hear 86 DREAMS. the time beaten in with sobs ; and their wine is living! Oh, I cannot bear Hell!” God said, “ Where will you go?” I said ‘‘To the earth from which I came; it was better there.” And God laughed at me; and I wondered why he laughed. God said, ‘‘Come, and I will show you Heaven.” And partly I awoke. It was still and dark ; the sound of the carriages had died in the street ; the woman who laughed was gone ; and the policeman’s tread was heard no more. In the dark it seemed as if a great hand lay upon my heart, and crushed it. I tried to breathe and tossed from side to side ; and then again I fell asleep, and dreamed. God took me to the edge of that world. It ended. I looked down. The gulf, it seemed to me, was fathomless; and then I saw two bridges crossing it that both sloped upward. I said to God, ‘‘Is there no other way by which men cross it?” God said, ‘‘One; it rises far from here and slopes straight upward. ” I asked God what the bridges’ names were. God said, ‘‘What matter for the names? DREAMS. 87 Call them the Good, the True, the Beautiful, if you will — you will yet not understand them.” I asked God how it was I could not see the third. God said, “It is seen only by those who climb it. ” I said, ‘‘Do they all lead to one Heaven?” God said, ‘‘All Heaven is one: nevertheless some parts are higher than others ; those who reach the higher may always go down to rest in the lower ; but those in the lower may not have strength to climb to the higher; never- theless the light is all one.” And I saw over the bridge nearest me, which was wider than the other, countless footmarks go. I asked God why so many went over it. God said, ‘‘It slopes less deeply, and leads to the first heaven.” And I saw that some of the footmarks were of feet returning. I asked God how it was. He said, ‘‘No man who has once entered Heaven ever leaves it; but some, when they have gone halfway, turn back, because they are afraid there is no land beyond.” I said, ‘‘Has none ever returned-?” God said, ‘‘No; once in Heaven always in Heaven.” 88 DREAMS. And God took me over. And when we came to one of the great doors — for Heaven has more doors than one, and they are all open — the posts rose up so high on either side I could not see the top, nor indeed if there were any. And it seemed to me so wide that all Hell could go in through it. I said to God, “Which is the larger, Heaven or Hell?” God said, “Hell is as wide, but Heaven is deeper. All Hell could be engulfed in Heaven, but all Heaven could not be engulfed in Hell.” •And we entered. It was a still great land. The mountains rose on every hand, and there was a pale clear light; and I saw it came from the rocks and stones. I asked God how it was. But God did not answer me. I looked and wondered, for I had thought Heaven would be otherwise. And after a while it began to grow brighter, as if the day were breaking, and I asked God if the sun were not going to rise. God said, “No; we are coming to where the people are . 9 9 And as we went on it grew brighter and brighter, till it was burning day; and on the rocks were flowers blooming, and trees bios- DREAMS. 89 somed at the roadside ; and streams of water ran everywhere, and I heard the birds sing- ing; I asked God where they were. God said, “It is the people calling to one another.” And when we came nearer I saw them walk- ing, and they shone as they walked. I asked God how it was they wore no covering. God said, “Because all their body gives the light; they dare not cover any part.” And I asked God what they were doing. God said, “Shining on the plants, that they may grow. ” And I saw that some were working in com- panies, and some alone, but most were in twos sometimes two men and sometimes two women ; but generally there was one man and one woman ; and I asked God how it was. God said, “When one man and one woman shine together, it makes the most perfect light. Many plants need that for their growing. Nevertheless, there are more kinds of plants in Heaven than one, and they need many kinds of light.” And one from among the people came run- ning toward me; and when he came near it seemed to me that he and I had played together when we were little children, and 90 DREAMS. that we had been born on the same day. And I told God what I felt. God said, “All men feel so in Heaven when another comes toward them.” And he who ran toward me held my hand, and led me through the bright lights. And when we came among the trees he sang aloud, and his companion answered, and it was a woman, and he showed me to her. She said, “He must have water;” and she took some in her hands, and fed me (I had been afraid to drink of the water in Hell), and they gathered fruit for me, and gave it me to eat. They said, “We shone long to make it ripen,” and they laughed together as they saw me eat it. The man said, “He is very weary; he must sleep” (for I had not dared to sleep in Hell), and he laid my head on his companion’s knee and spread her hair out over me. I slept, and all the while in my sleep I thought I heard the birds calling across me. And when I woke it was like early morning with the dew on everything. And the man took my hand and led me to a hidden spot among the rocks. The ground was very hard, but out of it were sprouting tiny plants, and there was a little stream run- ning. He said, “This is a garden we are mak DREAMS. 91 ing, no one else knows of it. We shine here every day; see, the ground has cracked with our shining, and this little stream is bursting out. See, the flowers are growing. ° And he climbed on the rocks and picked from above two little flowers with dew on them, and gave them to me. And I took one in each hand; my hands shone as I held them. He said, “This garden is for all when it is finished.’' And he went away to his compan- ion, and I went out into the great pathway. And as I walked in the light I heard a loud sound of much singing. And when I came nearer I saw one with closed eyes, singing, and his fellows were standing round him; and the light on the closed eyes was brighter than anything I had seen in Heaven. I asked one who it was. And he said “Hush! Our sing- ing bird.” And I asked why the eyes shone so. And he said, “They cannot see, and we have kissed them till they shone so. ” And the people gathered closer round him. And when I went a little further I saw a crowd crossing among the trees of light with great laughter. When they came close I saw they carried one without hands or feet. And 92 DREAMS. a light came from the maimed limbs so bright that I could not look at them. And I said to one, “What is it?” He answered, “This is our brother who once fell and lost his hands and feet, and since then he cannot help himself; but we have touched the maimed stumps so often that now they shine brighter than anything in Heaven. We pass him on that he may shine on things that need much heat. No one is allowed to keep him long, he belongs to all;” and they went on among the trees. I said to God, “This is a strange land. I had thought blindness and maimedness were great evils. Here men make them to a rejoic- ing.” God said, “Didst thou then think that love had need of eyes and hands!” And I walked down the shining way with palms on either hand. I said to God, “Ever since I was a little child and sat alone and cried, I have dreamed of this land, and now I will not go away again. I will stay here and shine.” And I began to take off my garments, that I might shine as others in that land; but when I looked down I saw my body gave no light. I said to God, “How is it?” DREAMS. 93 God said, “Is there no dark blood in your heart; is it bitter against none?’ 1 And I said, “Yes ;” and I thought — “Now is the time when I will tell God, that which I have been, meaning to tell him all along, how badly my fellow-men have treated me. How they have misunderstood me. How I have intended to be magnanimous and generous to them, and they “ And I began to tell God; but when I looked down all the flowers were withering under my breath, and I was silent. And God called me to come up higher, and I gathered my mantle about me and followed him. And the rocks grew higher and steeper on every side; and we came at last to a place where a great mountain rose, whose top was lost in the clouds. And on its side I saw men working; and they picked at the earth with huge picks; and I saw that they labored mightily. And some labored in companies, but most labored singly. And I saw the drops of sweat fall from their foreheads, and the muscles of their arms stand out with labor. And I said, “I had not thought in heaven to see men labor so!” And I thought of the garden where men sang and loved, and I 94 DREAMS. wondered that any should choose to labor on that bare mountain-side. And I saw upon the foreheads of the men as they worked a light, and the drops which fell from them as they worked had light. And I asked God what they were seeking for. And God touched my eyes, and I saw that what they found were small stones, which had been too bright for me to see before ; and I saw that the light of the stones and the light on the men’s foreheads was the same. And I saw that when one found a stone he passed it on to his fellow, and he to another, and he to another. No man kept the stone he found. And at times they gathered in great company about when a large stone was found, and raised a great shout so that the sky rang; then they worked on again. And I asked God what they did with the stones they found at last. Then God touched my eyes again to make them stronger; and I looked, and at my very feet was a mighty crown. The light streamed out from it. God said, “Each stone as they find it is set here. ” And the crown was wrought according to a marvelous pattern; one pattern ran through all, yet each part was different. DREAMS. 95 I said to God, “How does each man know where to set his stone, so that the pattern is worked out?” God said, “Because in the light his forehead sheds each man sees faintly outlined that full crown. ” And I said, “But how is it that each stone is joined along its edges to its fellows, so that there is no seam anywhere?” God said, “The stones are alive; they grow.” And I said, “But what does each man gain by his working?” God said, “He sees his outline filled.” I said, “D ut those stones which are last set cover those which were first; and those will again be covered by those which come later.” God said, “They are covered, but not hid. The light is the light of all. Without the first, no last. ” And I said to God, “When will this crown be ended?” And God said, “Look up!” I looked up; and I saw the mountain tower above me, but its summit I could not see; it was lost in the clouds. God said no more. And I looked at the crown ; then a longing 96 DREAMS. seized me. Like the passion of a mother for the child whom death has taken; like the yearning of a friend for the friend whom life has buried; like the hunger of dying eyes for a life that is slipping; like the thirst of a soul for love at its first spring waking, so, but fiercer was the longing in me. I cried to God, “I too will work here; I too will set stones in the wonderful pattern; it shall grow beneath my hand. And if it be that, laboring here for years, I should not find one stone, at least I will be with the men that labor here. I shall hear tfyeir shout of joy when each stone is found; I shall join in their triumph, I shall shout among them; I shall see the crown grow. *' So great was my long- ing as I looked at the crown, I thought a faint light fell from my forehead also. God said, “Do you not hear the singing in the gardens?’' I said, “No, I hear nothing; I see only the crown.’' And I was dumb with longing; I forgot all the flowers of the lower Heaven and the singing there. And I ran forward, and threw my mantle on the earth and bent to seize one of the mighty tools which lay there. I could not lift it from the earth. DREAMS. 97 God said, “Where hast thou earned the strength to raise it? Take up thy mantle.” And I took up my mantle and followed where God called me ; but I looked back, and I saw the crown burning, my crown that I had loved. Higher and higher we climbed, and the air grew thinner. Not a tree or plant was on the bare rocks, and the stillness was unbroken. My breath came hard and quick, and the blood crept within my finger-tips. I said to God, “Is this Heaven?” God said, “Yes; it is the highest.” And still we climbed. I said to God, “I cannot breathe so high.” God said, “Because the air is pure?” And my head grew dizzy, and as I climbed the blood burst from my finger-tips. Then we came out upon a lonely mountain- top. No living being moved there; but far off on a solitary peak I saw a lonely figure standing. Whether it were man or woman I could not tell ; for partly it seemed the figure of a woman, but its limbs were the mighty limbs of a man. I asked God whether it was man or woman. God said, “In the least Heaven sex reigns 7 Dreams 98 DREAMS. supreme; in the higher it is not noticed; but in the highest it does not exist. ” And I saw the figure bend over its work, and labor mightily, but what it labored at I could not see. I said to God, “How came it here?” God said, “By a bloody stair. Step by step it mounted from the lowest Hell, and day by day as Hell grew farther and Heaven no nearer, it hung alone between two worlds. Hour by hour in that bitter struggle its limbs grew larger, till there fell from it rag by rag the garments which it started with. Drops fell from its eyes as it strained them ; each step it climbed was wet with blood. Then it came out here.” And I thought of the garden where men sang with their arms round one another, and the mountain-side where they worked in com- pany. And I shuddered. And I said, “Is it not terribly alone here?” God said, “It is never alone!” I said, “What has it for all its labor? I see nothing return to it.” Then God touched my eyes, and I saw stretched out beneath us the plains of Heaven and Hell, and all that was within them. God said, “From that lone height on which DREAMS. 99 he stands, all things are open. To him is clear the shining in the garden, he sees the flower break forth and the streams sparkle; no shout is raised upon the mountain-side but his ear may hear it. He sees the crown grow and the light shoot from it. All Hell is open to him. He sees the paths mount upward. To him, Hell is the seed ground from which Heaven springs. He sees the sap ascend- ing/ ’ And I saw the figure bend over its work, and the light from its face fell upon it. And I said to God, “What is it making ?” And God said, “Music!” And he touched my ears, and I heard it. And after a long while I whispered to God, “This is Heaven/’ And God asked me why I was crying. But I could not answer for joy„ And the face turned from its work, and the light fell upon me. Then it grew so bright I could not see things separately; and which were God, or the man, or I, I could not tell; we were all blended. I cried to God, “Where are you?” but there was no answer, only music and light Afterward, when it had grown so dark again that I could see things separately, I found that 100 DREAMS. I was standing there wrapped tight in my little old, brown, earthly cloak, and God and the man were separated from each other, and from me. I did not dare say I would go and make music beside the man. I knew I could not reach even to his knee, nor move the instru- ment he played. But I thought I would stand there on my little peak and sing an accompan- iment to that great music. And I tried; but my voice failed. It piped and quavered. I could not sing that tune. I was silent. Then God pointed to me, that I should go out of Heaven. And I cried to God, “Oh, let me stay here. If indeed it be, as I know it is, that I am not great enough to sing upon the mountain, nor strong enough to labor on its side, nor bright enough to shine and love within the garden, at least let me go down to the great gateway ; humbly I will kneel there sweeping; and, as the saved pass in, I will see the light upon their faces. I shall hear the singing in the garden, and the shout upon the hillside ” God said, “It may not be;’’ he pointed. And I cried, “If I may not stay in Heaven then let me go down to Hell, and I will grasp the hands of men and women there; and DREAMS. 101 slowly, holding one another’s hands, we will work our way upward.” Still God pointed. And I threw myself upon the earth and cried, “Earth is so small, so mean It is not meet a soul should see Heaven and be cast out again” And God laid his hand on me, and said, “Go back to earth; that which you seek is there.” I awoke: it was morning. The silence and darkness of the night were gone. Through my narrow attic window I saw the light of another day. I closed my eyes and turned toward the wall: I could not look upon the dull gray world. In the streets below, men and women streamed past by hundreds; I heard the beat of their feet on the pavement. Men on their way to business; servants on errands; boys hurrying to school; weary professors pacing slowly the old street; prostitutes, men and women, dragging their feet wearily after last night’s debauch; artists with quick, impa* tient footsteps; tradesmen for orders ; children to seek for bread. I heard the stream beat by. And at the alley’s mouth, at the street corner, a broken barrelorgan was playing; 102 DREAMS. sometimes it quavered and almost stopped, then went on again, like a broken human voice. I listened : my heart scarcely moved ; it was as cold as lead. I could not bear the long day before me ; and I tried to sleep again ; yet still I heard the feet upon the pavement. And suddenly I heard them cry loud as they beat, “We are seeking! — we are seeking! — we are seeking !” and the broken barrel-organ at the street corner sobbed, “The Beautiful! — the Beautiful! — the Beautiful !” And my heart, which had been dead, cried out with every throb, 4 4 Love ! — Truth ! — the Beautiful ! — the Beautiful !“ It was the music I had heard in Heaven that I could not sing there. And fully I awoke. Upon the faded quilt, across my bed a long yellow streak of pale London sunlight was lying. It fell through my narrow attic window. I laughed. I rose. I was glad the long day was before me. Paris and London. 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