The Young Wife CHAPTER 8.
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A year has passed away, and, as indicated in our last chapter, some changes have occurred during that year. Let us look in upon our young friends, who still retain their well-established house. It is evening, and the soft light of a shaded lamp is diffused through a neatly-arranged sitting-room, where Frank and his young wife are alone, feeling as happy, or may be, happier, than they had been since young love trembled in their hearts with its first sweet emotion.
Alone, did we say? No, not all alone; for upon the bosom of Julia lay a perfect miniature of herself — a living, moving, breathing one — not yet conscious of its own innocent existence!
"Dear, sweet babe!" murmured the young mother, under the impulse of the newly awakened maternal affection, pressing the infant to her bosom.
"I thought we were as happy before as we could be," the husband said; "but how much this precious gift has increased it!"
"And you love me more than ever now; don't you, dear Frank?"
"A thousand times more, it seems, dear Julia!" and he pressed his lips first to those of his wife, and then to the cheek, lips, and forehead of the innocent babe that lay in happy unconsciousness upon her bosom.
"How strange it seems that some mothers can coldly turn their babes over to the care of hired nurses!" Julia remarked, after a silence of some moments. "For my part, I am never so happy as when my sweet little one is sleeping where she now lies. Hark! there's the bell. I wonder who it can be?"
In a few minutes Sally came in and announced that Mrs. Emerson was in the parlor.
"Ask her to walk back into the sitting-room, Sally," Mrs. Lawton said.
"This is an unexpected pleasure," she added, turning to her husband, as Sally withdrew. "I cannot help liking Mrs. Emerson."
"Nor I, Julia. I think her one of the best of women."
The entrance of Mrs. Emerson checked any further remark.
"We are very glad to see you, Mrs. Emerson," said Mr. Lawton, as she came in, offering his hand, and conducting her to a chair.
"And I felt as if I would like to spend an evening with you, my young friends, and so, my nephew having come in for a few minutes, I got him to accompany me thus far, and he is to call for me again in the course of an hour or so. And so you've got your dear little babe there, Julia," she added, in a changed tone, drawing her chair up familiarly to the side of Mrs. Lawton, and taking in her's, the small white arm of the infant.
"O yes, Mrs. Emerson; I am never so happy as when I have her in my arms. Dear little thing! How strong a hold she has already taken on our affections. I had no idea how deepand tender was the love which a mother bore to her child."
"It is a deep, a tender, and pure love, Julia," Mrs. Emerson said, "when it is allowed to act freely. But how many young mothers there are, whose selfish love of ease and idle visitings prompt them to delegate to others, the dear offices of affection, thus permitting the fountain of maternal love to run dry, or partially fail, in their bosoms."
"How strange!" Mr. Lawton said, musingly.
"Strange indeed!" continued Mrs. Emerson. "How can a wife and mother look out from her own fireside, for that which is to satisfy her yearnings after happiness? At home, and inhome-duties, it is alone to be found; and whenever it is sought elsewhere, it is sought in vain!"
"A truer sentiment was never uttered," Mr. Lawton responded, in an earnest tone.
"How can a mother find pleasure anywhere but with her children?" Julia said, drawing closer the arm that held her babe to her bosom.
"She may find pleasure elsewhere, Mrs. Lawton," her friend remarked; "but never while neglecting the duties of home. I would not be understood to forbid in any way, the pleasures of the social circle; but let them always be rational, and never at the expense of real duties. It is as great an error to neglect our domestic duties — for the pleasures which society offers. Whenever we can find an hour that may be spared, without the neglect of some duty, we should spend that hour in society, with the double motive of imparting as well as receiving some good impulses. In this way we may ever be the medium of some good to others, either in our families, or in society at large. And surely, such a consciousness of ever being in the effort to do good, must bring a reward far above what any idle, self-indulgence, or vain show can give."
"You seem to have thought much upon these subjects, Mrs. Emerson," Mr. Lawton said, as their visitor paused.
"I believe I have," she replied, with a smile; "and the reason is, I suppose, to be found in the fact, that when I started in life, I had many erroneous views, which caused me muchpain before I discovered them, and no little effort to correct. Experience is said, you know, to be the best teacher, and therefore it is that I have learned my lesson well. But I will not weary you with my dull reflections on life. And so to change the subject, let me inquire, Julia, if you find your cares in any degree lightened by the aid which a year's experience has given you?"
"They are lightened, I think, some little," Mrs. Lawton replied. "But still, I find I have my hands full. And just now I am in some difficulty."
"I am sorry to hear that. What is it?"
"My cook has become so much addicted to drunkenness, that we have been obliged to send her away. While sober, she performed her work well. Indeed, except that one great fault, I had no complaint to make against her."
"That is bad enough. But, I think I know of an excellent cook who is just now out of a place. And I will see about her for you, tomorrow, early."
"It would be very kind, indeed, of you to do so, Mrs. Emerson, for just now, with a young babe to attend to, I cannot give much attention to household affairs."
"I shall do it with pleasure, Julia."
"How different from our friend Mrs. Campbell!" Frank Lawton could not help saying to himself. Then speaking aloud, he remarked —
"I am glad to find, Mrs. Emerson, that you are more inclined to help and encourage — than to dispirit by idle complaints, as some of Julia's acquaintances are."
"And I hope I ever shall be, Mr. Lawton. If we all complained less, and tried to encourage and help each other more — we would find all our duties much more easily performed."
"But don't you think, Mrs. Emerson," Julia said, "that, with just ourselves, and our babe, we should find it much easier and pleasanter in a boarding-house? Then, we would be done with all this trouble about servants."
"Indeed, Julia, I do not think any such thing. For a little while it might seem better. But a boarding-house is a poor substitute for a home. As far as I am concerned, I would rather keep house in two rooms, than live in the best boarding establishment in the city."
"Well, I don't know, Mrs. Emerson, but it does seem to me, that I would be much happier than I am now."
"If you are not happy, Julia, with your husband and child, in so pleasant a home as this — be sure that the change to a boarding-house will do but little towards giving you a contented mind. I am afraid, my dear child, that you have much to learn yet."
"No doubt I have. But still, I cannot get the idea out of my mind, that there is far more enjoyment, for a woman at least, in a boarding-house, than there is for her while pressed down with ever-recurring and perplexing domestic duties."
"But surely, Julia, you consider your husband's comfort, as well as your own."
"Certainly I do, Mrs. Emerson. But then, it seems to me nothing more than fair, that he should consider mine a little also," Julia replied, half laughing, half in earnest.
The conversation now took a different turn, and continued with pleasure and profit to all, until Mrs. Emerson's nephew called for her, when she took her leave of Mr. and Mrs. Lawton, and went away.
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