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Joy And Sorrow
by
“I have come for the purpose of bringing you comfort and hope if you will but accept it,” answered Joy, modestly.
“A stranger could scarcely show me what I cannot find. Be assured, young maiden, if I had the pleasures you suppose I possess, I should not be tardy in seeing them. No, no: my life is a succession of cares and burdens.”
Joy was silent a moment, and then said, “But you have health, a home, and plenty to dispense to the needy, which must be a comfort, at least, in a world of so much need.”
“My home is large and elegant, I admit; but, believe me, the care of the servants is a burden too great for human flesh.”
Joy thought how much better a cottage was, with just enough to meet the wants of life, than a mansion full of hirelings; and she said, hopefully, “Our blessings ever outnumber our woes. If we but look for them, we shall be surprised each day to see how many they are. I am on a visit to earth,” continued Joy, “to see how much real happiness I can find, and help, if possible, to remove obstacles that hinder its advancement. This is my sister, Sorrow,” she continued, turning to her, “who, like myself, has a mission, though by no means a pleasant one.”
The sisters unveiled their faces.
A flush of pleasure stole over the sallow face of the woman as she gazed upon the brightness of Joy’s countenance; but the look quickly faded at the sight of Sorrow’s worn and weary features.
“My sister must tarry here,” said Joy, as she rose to leave.
“Here! With me? Why! I can scarcely live now. What can I do with her added to my troubles?”
“It is thus decreed,” answered Joy. “You need the discipline which she will bring to you.”
And she departed, leaving her sister in the elegant but cheerless mansion.
The mistress of the luxurious home had one fair daughter, whom she was bringing up to lead a listless, indolent, and selfish life,–a life which would result in no good to herself or others.
Sorrow grew sadder each day as she saw the girl walking amid all the beauties with which she was surrounded, careless of her own culture. She felt, also, that she must at some time, and it might be soon, be removed from her luxuries, or they from her. Each hour the fair girl’s step grew heavier, till at last she was too weak to walk, or even rise from her bed.
“All this comes of having that sad woman here,” exclaimed the weeping mother as she bent over her daughter. “I’ll have her sent from the house this day.” And she rang for a servant to send Sorrow away.
After delivering her message to her maid, she felt somewhat relieved.
The servant went in search of Sorrow, but could not find her either in the house, garden, on the lawn, or among the dark pines where she often walked.
Whither had she fled?
All the servants of the house were summoned to the search; but Sorrow was not to be found, and they reported to the mistress their failure to find her.
“No matter,” she replied, “so long as she is no longer among us. Go to your labors now, keep the house very quiet, and be sure, before dark, to lock all the doors, that she may not enter unperceived.”
They need not have bolted nor barred her out; for her work was done, and she had no cause to return.
She was sent to the house of wealth to carry the blight of death. Her mission was over, and she was on her way, seeking Joy.
The young girl faded slowly and died.
The mother mourned without hope, and was soon laid beside her daughter. The home passed into the hands of those who felt that none must live for themselves alone; that sorrows must be borne without murmur; and joys appreciated so well that the angel of sorrow may not have to bear some treasure away to uplift the heart and give the vision a higher range.