The Search for Happiness
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Next Part The Search for Happiness 2
On a fine couch in a room which plainly evinced the wealth and luxury of its occupant, sat, or rather reclined, a maiden of apparently about eighteen summers, absorbed in deep and somewhat anxious thought.
Few who gazed upon the exceeding beauty of her countenance, and marked its usually joyous expression, would have dreamed that a cloud ever passed over her young heart. Indeed, there was nothing to mar her earthly happiness. The only and idolized child of wealthy parents — her slightest wishes were regarded or even anticipated. All around her was as beautiful as a dream of fairy land, in her own dear home; and when she mingled in the mirthful crowd, her wealth and loveliness gave her that precedence which, in spite of her better judgment, was gratifying to her heart.
And yet, the fair Eveline was not always happy. There were moments when her soul yearned for an indefinable something which she felt that neither rank nor beauty could bestow. A desire to fulfill more perfectly the object of her being, to allow her thoughts and affections to expand beyond the routine of selfish pleasures in which her daily life was passed — had taken possession of her mind, and in the solitude of her own room she often passed sad hours of reflection, unsuspected by her mirthful companions, or by the fond parents who so tenderly watched over her.
"Happiness!" she would sometimes exclaim. "What is it? The shadow men do indeed possess — but not the reality. That is beyond our reach. It belongs not to mortals. Why then, am I thus dissatisfied? Why this continual striving for what I may not hope to gain?
With her mind oppressed with these reflections, Eveline slept upon the couch where she had thrown herself that she might indulge them undisturbed. We say she slept, but can that state be called sleep, where the soul, freed for a brief season from its earthly fetters, enters into dreamland.
While Eveline was thus apparently sleeping in her own room, she found herself in a garden, the surpassing beauty of which far exceeded anything that she had ever seen on earth.Flowers of the most varied and brilliant hues were breathing forth the most delightful perfumes; birds of the richest plumage filled the air with their melody as they sported among the foliage of the trees; fruits of delicious flavor hung temptingly within her reach; the very air that she breathed seemed to sparkle in the brilliant light, like a thousand diamonds; while the sound of the waters falling from the numerous fountains, came upon the ear with a refreshing coolness.
For a moment Eveline gazed with astonishment and delight upon the lovely scene before her, but again a feeling of sadness stole over her, and she murmured aloud,
"And yet all this beauty does not constitute happiness — it is but the shadow. Where is the substance?"
As she said this, a voice gently replied,
"The substance produces the shadow, fair maiden. The lovely objects around you do not, indeed, give happiness, but those interior principles, those thoughts and affections, those active endeavors, of which all these things are but as types or representatives — they constitute happiness; they are the substance, the reality for which you seek."
"Explain this still farther," cried Eveline, as she turned in the direction of the voice, and saw standing by her side a shining one clad in garments of the most dazzling whiteness.
Again the angel replied,
"There is a certain latent vein in the affection of the will of every angel which draws his mind to the doing of something, and by this, the mind is tranquillized and made satisfied with itself; this tranquility and satisfaction form a state of mind capable of receiving the love of usefulness from the Lord; from the reception of this love is heavenly happiness. This is the origin of all our joys; from this, as from a fountain, various delights are perpetually gushing forth, and in their final end, surround us with what is externally beautiful and lovely.
"In the world in which you dwell, the internal and external are, alas, but too seldom in unison. Mortals are often surrounded by all the luxuries which earthly riches can procure, while the interiors are closed against the heavenly joys which their Creator and Father is continually striving to impart; and those who possess heavenly riches are often found among the naturally poor and lowly; but true happiness in the natural world as well as in the spiritual, must proceed from the internal love which I have described. The love ofusefulness, can alone fill that void which you have so painfully felt. Without this, the external delights around you are cold and lifeless."
With deep humility and attention, Eveline listened to the words of her heavenly instructor, and in thoughtful accents she repeated,
"The love of usefulness. What is its nature, and how may I obtain this one essential of true happiness?"
"By living no longer for yourself alone. Learn to regard the rich gifts which God has seen fit to bestow upon you, personal loveliness, uncommon talents, wealth in abundance — as instruments in your hands for ministering to the welfare of others. Even in the cultivation of your own mind, the love of usefulness may still be your ruling end, for the knowledge which you acquire, renders you a more fitting medium for imparting good to your fellow-beings. Go forth among the sad ones of the earth. Clothe the naked, feed the hungry, whisper consolation to the afflicted, lead the sinner to repentance. This is the blessed mission which has been assigned to me, and intense is the joy which I derive from its fulfillment. Even now, I am summoned to the world of mortals. Accompany me, and I will show you at least one form of usefulness."
With delight Eveline yielded herself to his guidance, and in a moment the scene changed from heavenly bliss to earthly wretchedness. In a miserable hovel, an almost heart-broken mother was weeping over her suffering babes. The father had, some months since, been removed to the eternal world, and her utmost exertions were insufficient to maintain herself and the four little ones dependent upon her. The winter's wind was whistling loud and shrill around her dwelling; the snow lay piled at her door; but there was no glowing fire upon the hearth around which the widow and the orphans could cluster, unheeding the storm outside. All was dark and desolate. The last stick had been burned, the last cinders scraped together, and now nothing remained but to draw close to each other, and, sheltered by the scanty covering which the poor mother had thrown around them, to look to death as a release from their sufferings. Many hours had elapsed since a morsel of food had passed their lips, and when at length the despairing woman had resolved to beg rather than to allow her children to perish, she had been harshly repulsed by the first person to whom she applied, and, sick at heart, had crept back to die with her loved ones.
Tears fell fast from Eveline's eyes as she gazed upon this scene of misery. "Oh, give them instant relief," she cried. "Little did I imagine, that such destitution existed. Delay not a moment, or it will be too late."
"Earthly mediums are necessary," replied her heavenly guide. "It is not granted to us to give material aid. Spiritual comfort I have already imparted. Look now at the sufferers."
The mother kneeled beside her babes and prayed earnestly to the God of the widow and the fatherless, and she received into her soul, that peace which no earthly suffering can take away.
"Our Heavenly Father has heard us," she exclaimed joyfully. "I feel that we shall yet be saved. Have courage, my children; help draws near!"
Even as she spoke, Eveline found herself still hand in hand with her spirit friend in a cheerful, pleasant little parlor, where, in a social circle around their bright fire, sat a father, mother, and five lovely children. All was joy among this little group, and, though not surrounded by the luxuries of wealth, they were evidently in possession of every comfort. The youngest child sat upon his father's knee; the elder ones clung around him, begging for one more pleasant story, while the mother looked upon her treasures with a happy, loving glance, which told the gladness within.
"Why are we here?" asked Eveline, reproachfully. "The widow and her orphans are left to die."
"Not so," was the reply. "I came but to seek an instrument of good."
The angel bent toward the father, and, unseen by all but Eveline, breathed a few words in his ear. A shadow of thought passed over his brow, and, for a few moments, he remained silent, unnoticing the caresses of his children. At length he arose, and gently placed the babe in its mother's arms, saying,
"This is a hard night for the poor, dear Mary. I think I will seek out some of the sufferers."
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