Bridal Presents [pp. 170-171]

THE LADIES' REPOSITOR.
song had that night staid her footsteps, and
listened to the words of life. Broadened, deep ened, purified, her life became a blessing. The
sick and needy learned to be glad at her coming,
and little children ran to meet her.
"And did Bessie Lane ever come again?"
Yes, when June smiled upon the earth the
childish figure once more paused at the gate,
but the blue eyes gazed bewildered around.
"This is n't the place. Aunt Ruth must have
moved away." Well might she think so; the
house was neatly painted, the yard fence re paired, and up and down the path all sorts
of flowers were blooming. Just then Bessie
descried a neatly dressed old lady tying up
some vines.
"Can you tell me where Aunt Ruth Jones
has gone that used to"- Bessie stopped, and
with one bound sprang into the woman's arms,
for it was Aunt Ruth herself.
"It is so beautiful here! how did it all happen?" cried the delighted child.
Aunt Ruth smiled brightly, and, taking Bessie
by the hand, passed into the neat, cheerful room,
up to the south window, where the carefully
tended rose was putting forth new beauty and
fragrance. Bessie fairly danced with delight at
sight of the rose, but Aunt Ruth seated the
child gently by her side, and told how it had
happened; how the little flower had at first
whispered to her heart of the long ago, of the
holy song that would not let her sleep, and,
lastly, of God's good Spirit that hadt so tenderly
led her straying steps to the sun-gilt path of
peace.
BRIDAL PRESENTS.
T is a beautiful custom to crown the bride
with gifts that come from loving hearts, sacred gifts that have a speech and language all
their own, irrespective of any mercenary value.
Such gifts are pure in their suggestions, as the
little shoe which the mother weeps in secret
over, after her darling has gone beneath the daisies to find her way to heaven.
But we lift up our voice in behalf of a great
army —and this great army quakes with the fear
of being thought mean-mark, not always with
the fear of being stingy, but of seeming so.
This vast army is composed of a thousand different characters. Let us illustrate them: A
lady is to attend a wedding; she purchases a
silver basket for a bride whom she cares little
about, and then says to her sister, "I can't
afford to make Biddy a present of five dollars,
as I intended to, because this cake basket has
cost so much." And so Biddy, who is the tru est object of charity, is neglected, her mistress
saying to herself, "Every body will see my pres ent to the bride, and I can not, of course, give
any thing that would look cheap or shabby."
Is not this the reasoning of a shabby spirit,
and would it not be more royal to do one's
actual duty? We owe a duty to society which
is as imperative as patriotism. When we see,
after some careful observation, that a custom is
baneful, it is right to protest against it. Our
American society is living more and more in
reference to what others think, rather than in
reference to the cultivation of a noble individu ality. It is not pleasant to step aside from the
beaten track, and receive blame therefor, but
would to God there were more who would be
true to themselves-who would measure in God's
light all that they are, and that which they can
best do-and then keep steadfast irrespective
of outside voices.
Every family has its secrets; almost every
family has some secret drain upon its charity,
and costly bridal gifts are often made with a
sighing look toward some aged relative, who
needs the oblation far more than the happy new
wife. Many a generous bride would repel some
of her offerings with a shock of pride, could she
know their history. A pale girl sat stitching
far into the night for many weeks to earn herself a merino dress-a dear friend who was in
better circumstances was to be married and
chose the seamstress for a bridesmaid; besides
the expense of her toilet, which consumed her
merino dress, she feels that she must make a
present becoming to her position: poor girl, she
can not live above the world more than othersshe toils harder, she goes in debt a little, and
buys some pretty trifle that is earned out of her
tears and life-blood: after the wedding she
works to make up the deficit, and the lack of
moral courage and independence which made
her decline saying, "I can not afford to be your
bridesmaid!" plunges her into fresh sacrifices for
show-she loses her health for show, whereas,
had she been truthful and strong, the good tides
of her life would have poured forth a better type
of living for others to follow.
A mother made the remark, "I had an evening wedding for my Catherine, because I knew
she would be apt to have a great many presents." This is the gist of the matter. It is not
the presents that we war against, but the display of them with prices attached, that people
may be deterred from getting small gifts. We
know that there are thousands of instances
where the thought does not enter: a rich, generous, poetic nature would look upon the fair
O'
I70