KIND MESSAGES, THAT pass from land to land;
Kind letters, that betray the heart’s deep history,
In which we feel the pressure of a hand —
One touch of fire, — and all the rest is mystery!
LONGFELLOW.
THE morning of the new year is dawning as brightly as winter morning may, and Christian is up again among her household, preparing for the great event of the day. Mary and Robert are still employed in their personal adornments, and James, waiting for his graver sister, watches the door in terror for their entry; but Christian at last leads the bridegroom away, and bids the merry youthful couple follow, and James will not forget, for many a year of the new life on which he is about to enter, the gentle sisterly counsel which he now receives: how unselfish, how generous she is! His future wife maybe a sister in name, but she can never be so in spirit; Christian knows that well, but how sweetly she speaks of her, how warmly she encourages her brother’s affection, how gently she leads his thoughts to his new duties, and urges upon him, in admonitory yet tender kindness, their lasting obligation. His home will be a happy one, if he becomes what Christian wishes and presses him to be.
Mr. Melville fancies that there could not, by any chance, be a better arrangement than James’s marriage with Elizabeth Rutherford, the only daughter of his wealthy partner; so natural at once, and business-like, for James of course, will just step into the place vacated by his worthy seniors, when their time comes to depart from Exchange and counting-house: a most excellent arrangement; Elizabeth is a pretty girl too, a little gay perhaps, but time will remedy and quiet that. Christian said some foolish thing about the Rutherfords being vain worldly people, but Christian always spoke foolishly on such subjects. There could not have been a better arrangement, and armed with this deliverance of paternal wisdom, James had been a successful wooer and suitor, and gay Elizabeth Rutherford will be Christian’s sister to-day.
We leave the wedding, with all its vows, and pomps, and ceremony, to the imagination of the gentle reader. It will suffice to say, that James was married, and that all went off as well and as merrily as is usually the case. But it is now the new year’s night and Christian is at home, and there, lying on her own table, at her own corner of the cheerful fireside, lies a prize; “a letter from Halbert!” Christian has thrown herself into a chair, and is busy unfolding the precious document, and little Mary’s bright eyes are sparkling over her shoulder; but we must not describe Halbert’s epistle, we shall rather give it in extenso.
“MY DEAR CHRISTIAN,
“I have been congratulating myself, that amidst all your multitudinous avocations at this eventful time, the reading of my periodical epistle will be some relief to you, and in benevolent consideration of your overwhelming cares, intend — in spite of your late reproof on my levity, which natheless, dear Christian, is not levity, but fun — to fill this, at present unsullied sheet, with as much nonsense as possible. However, I will so far subdue my propensities, as to make my second sentence — concerning, as it does, so very important an event in the family — a serious enough one. I have a feeling about this marriage of James’s which I can hardly explain, even to myself; I suppose, because it is the first break in the family, the first introduction of change; and it seems so extraordinary a thing at first, that we, who have lived all our lives together, should be able to form connections nearer and dearer with others, than those which exist among ourselves. I could almost be glad, Christian, that your loss — forgive me for speaking of it — will preserve you to us all; and James’s choice too rather surprises me! I was not wont to have a very high idea of Elizabeth Rutherford’s qualities; I hope, however, for James’s sake, that I have been greatly mistaken: I have written him a congratulatory letter. I must confess to you though, that my congratulations would have been much more cordial, had our new sister-in-law come nearer my ideal. You know that I have a very high standard.
“We are enjoying our moment of breathing time very much — we students — in our classical and poetical retreats in the attics of Edinburgh, putting the stores of mental plenishing, which have been accumulating on our hands or lying in disorder in our heads for the past months, into their fitting places and order, and preparing the still unfurnished apartments for the reception of more. I suppose you will be thinking, that in one suite at least of these same empty inner rooms, there will be a vast quantity of clearing out required, before the formerly unmolested heterogeneous literary rubbish give place to the fair array of philosophical and theological lore, which must needs supplant it — and so there is. I do assure you, that at this present moment, the clearing out and scouring goes on vigorously. You should see how I turn my old friends out of doors to make way for the flowing full-robed dignity of their stately successors. The toil of study has, however, so much real pleasure mixed with it, after the first drudgery is over, that I don’t long very anxiously for its conclusion, though that is drawing near very rapidly. I suppose, if I am spared, I shall be ready to enter upon the work, to which we have so often looked forward, in little more than eighteen months. Well, time is not wont to be a laggard, and I hope when he runs round that length, he will find me better prepared for the duties and labours of my high vocation than I am now. Do you know, Christian, I have had lately a kind of fearful feeling, whenever I think of the future; what is the cause I cannot tell, unless it be one of those presentiments that sometimes — at least so we have heard — overshadow the minds of people who are, or who are about to be, exposed to danger. I am not, you know, in the least; nevertheless, I have not the same pleasure in looking forward that I used to have. I wish you would try and explain this enigma for me.
“I told you lately, you will remember, that I had made a very agreeable acquaintance, in a Mr. Walter Forsyth. I like him better the more I see of him, for he has great natural ability and extraordinary cultivation, united to the most captivating manners. I know you are very impassive to our masculine attractions, yet I hardly think, Christian, you could help being much pleased with him. He is a good deal older than I am, and is moreover of considerably higher station in the world than a student, and therefore I feel his attention to me the more gratifying. I have been at his house several times, and have met a good many of our Edinburgh savans there: none of them of the kind though that you would expect me to be associating with; for Forsyth’s friends are not exactly of the same character as my future position would require mine to be. Don’t think from this that I have got into bad company — just the reverse, I assure you, Christian — they are almost all very accomplished agreeable men, and I like them exceedingly. Forsyth is very liberal in his ways of thinking, perhaps you might think too much so; but he has mixed much with the world, and travelled a great deal, and so has come to look upon all kinds of opinions with indulgence, however much they may differ from his own: altogether, I cannot sum up his good qualities better than by saying, that he is a most fascinating man. I am afraid you will think I am getting very suddenly attached to my friend, but I feel quite sure he deserves it.
“I charge you to remember me, with all fraternal kindness, to our new sister-in-law. I suppose I shall have to beg pardon personally for various bygone affrays, of which I was the provoker long ago, ‘when we were bairns.’ Tell Mary I am very much afraid she will be following James’s example, and that she must positively let me be first, and for yourself, dear Christian, believe me always
“Your very affectionate brother,
“HALBERT MELVILLE.”
The first night of the year fell on a happy household. The senior of all, its head, satisfied and self-complacent; his grave and gentle daughter, full of such hopeful and pleasant thoughts as stifled the strange misgivings and forebodings that had sprung up within her when she had read the character of that much esteemed friend, who already seemed to have secured so large a portion of her brother’s affection — in Halbert’s letter; and the younger pair, as became the evening of so great a holiday, tired out with their rejoicing. The evening closed cheerily around them, and threw its slumberous curtain about every separate resting-place, as though it had a charge over them in their peaceful sleep, and predicted many a sweet awakening and many a prosperous day.