Part 49

Serena met me at the door of the saloon. She wore a white garland in her light-brown hair. How charming she was in her white dress, with her kindly blue eyes, her pure brow, and the heavenly smile on her lips! She was so friendly, so amiable, to everybody! Friends and relatives arrived; the rooms became filled. They drank tea, ate ices, and so on; and then there fell at once a great silence. The two old people seated themselves in two easy-chairs, which stood near each other in the middle of the saloon, on a richly embroidered mat. Their children and their children’s children gathered in a half-circle round them. A clergyman of noble presence stepped forward, and pronounced an oration on the beauty and holiness of marriage. He concluded with a reference to the life of the venerable pair, which was in itself a better sermon on the excellence of marriage, for the human heart, and for life, than was his speech, though what he said was true and touching. There was not a dry eye in the whole company. All were in a solemn, affectionate mood.

Meantime, preparations for the festival were completed in the second story, to which the guests ascended. Here tableaux were presented, whose beauty and grace exceeded everything I had anticipated. The last one consisted of a well-arranged group of all the descendants of the Dahls, during the exhibition of which a chorus was sung. The whole exhibition gave great and general pleasure. When the chorus ceased, and the curtain fell, the doors of the dance-saloon flew open; a dazzling light streamed thence, and lively music set all the hearts and feet of the young people in lively motion.

We sat talking pleasantly together, till supper was served, on various little tables, in three rooms. Lagman Hok raised his glass, and begged permission to drink a toast. All were attentive. Then, fixing a mild, confident gaze on the patriarchs, he said, in a low voice: “Flowers and Harps were woven into the mat on which our honored friends this evening heard the words of blessing pronounced over them. They are the symbols of Happiness and Harmony; and these are the Penates of this house. That they surround you in this festive hour, venerable friends, we cannot regard as an accident. I seemed to hear them say, ‘During your union you have so welcomed and cherished us, that we are at home here, and can never forsake you. Your age shall be like your youth!’”

The wisest man may be wiser to-day than he was yesterday, and to-morrow than he is to-day.

COLTON.

THE WORN WEDDING RING.

BY W. C. BENNETT.

Your wedding ring wears thin, dear wife. Ah summers not a few, Since I put it on your finger first, have passed o’er me and you. And, love, what changes we have seen! what cares and pleasures too! Since you became my own dear wife, when this old ring was new.

O blessings on that happy day, the happiest of my life, When, thanks to God, your low, sweet “Yes” made you my loving wife! Your heart will say the same, I know; that day’s as dear to you, The day that made me yours, dear wife, when this old ring was new.

How well do I remember now your young, sweet face that day! How fair you were, how dear you were, my tongue could hardly say; Nor how I doated on you. Ah, how proud I was of you! But did I love you more than now, when this old ring was new?

No! No! no fairer were you then, than at this hour, to me; And dear as life to me this day, how could you dearer be? As sweet your face might be that day as now it is, ’tis true; But did I know your heart as well, when this old ring was new?

O partner of my gladness, wife, what care, what grief, is there For me you would not bravely face? with me you would not share? O, what a weary want had every day, if wanting you! Wanting the love that God made mine when this old ring was new!

Years bring fresh links to bind us, wife,--small voices that are here, Small faces round our fire that make their mother’s yet more dear, Small, loving hearts, your care each day makes yet more like to you, More like the loving heart made mine when this old ring was new.

And, blessed be God, all He has given are with us yet; around Our table every little life lent to us still is found; Though cares we’ve known, with hopeful hearts the worst we’ve struggled through; Blessed be His name for all His love since this old ring was new.

The past is dear; its sweetness still our memories treasure yet; The griefs we’ve borne, together borne, we would not now forget. Whatever, wife, the future brings, heart unto heart still true, We’ll share, as we have shared all else, since this old ring was new.

And if God spare us, ’mongst our sons and daughters to grow old, We know His goodness will not let your heart or mine grow cold. Your aged eyes will see in mine all they’ve still shown to you; And mine in yours all they have seen since this old ring was new.

And O, when death shall come at last to bid me to my rest, May I die looking in those eyes, and resting on that breast! O, may my parting gaze be blessed with the dear sight of you! Of those fond eyes,--fond as they were when this old ring was new.

CHAMBERS’S JOURNAL.

HINTS ABOUT HEALTH.

BY L. MARIA CHILD.

There are general rules of health, that cannot be too often repeated and urged, concerning which physicians of all schools are nearly unanimous. All who are acquainted with the physical laws of our being, agree that too much food is eaten. As far back as the twelfth century, the School of Salerno, the first Medical School established in Europe, published Maxims for Health, among which were the following: “Let these three things be your physicians; cheerfulness, moderate repose, and diet.” “Eat little supper, and you will sleep quietly.” A few years ago, the celebrated French physician, Dumoulin, in his last illness, said to friends who were lamenting the loss of his medical services, “I shall leave behind me three physicians much greater than I am: water, exercise, and diet.”

The Rev. Sydney Smith says: “The longer I live, the more I am convinced that half the unhappiness in the world proceeds from little stoppages; from a duct choked up, from food pressing in the wrong place, from a vexed duodenum, or an agitated pylorus. The deception, as practised upon human creatures, is curious and entertaining. My friend sups late; he eats some strong soup, then a lobster, then some tart, and he dilutes these excellent varieties with wine. The next day I call upon him. He is going to sell his house in London, and to retire into the country. He is alarmed for his eldest daughter’s health. His expenses are hourly increasing, and nothing but a timely retreat can save him from ruin. All this is the lobster. Old friendships are sometimes destroyed by toasted cheese, and hard salted meat has led to suicide. I have come to the conclusion that mankind consume twice too much food. According to my computation, I have eaten and drunk, between my tenth and seventieth year, forty-four horse-wagon loads more than was good for me.”

The example of Ludovicus Cornaro is a very striking proof of the advantages of abstinence. Modern physicians agree with him, that it is particularly wise for people, as they grow older, to diminish the quantity of solid food. Little should be eaten, especially by those who do not exercise greatly; and that little should be light and nutritious. It is also important that food and sleep should be taken at regular intervals.

Early rising, and frequent, though not excessive exercise, are extremely conducive to good health and good spirits. There is now living in South Kingston, R. I., an old man, named Ebenezer Adams, who is past ninety, and has never called upon a physician, or taken a single prescription, in his whole life. He has mowed every season for the last seventy-five years. The past summer he has raised with his own hands one hundred and thirty bushels of potatoes, and harvested them himself; conveying them about three quarters of a mile, in a wheelbarrow, to his house. He has raised and harvested forty bushels of corn himself. He has mowed and put up, without the help of man or beast, six tons of hay. He hauled it on hay-poles of his own manufacture, and put it in the barn himself. He carries his corn two miles and a half, two bushels at a time, in a wheelbarrow, to the mill, himself. Rainy weather, and in winter, he is at work at his trade as a cooper. His uninterrupted health is doubtless mainly owing to constant exercise in the open air.

The Rev. John Wesley, speaking of his remarkable freedom from fatigue amid the incessant labors of his old age, says: “I owe it to the goodness of God. But one natural cause undoubtedly is my continual exercise, and change of air. How the latter contributes to health, I know not; but it undoubtedly does.”

The Duke of Wellington, who retained his mental and physical faculties, in a remarkable degree, to an advanced age, lived with so much simplicity, that a celebrated cook left his service on the plea that he had no opportunity to display his skill. He was in the habit of applying vigorous friction to all his body daily. He slept on his narrow, iron camp bedstead, and walked briskly, or rode on horseback, while other gentlemen were sleeping. He made no use of tobacco in any form. For many years he refrained from the use of wine, saying he found no advantage from it, and relinquished it for the sake of his health.

The Hon. Josiah Quincy is a memorable example of vigorous old age. He has always been an early riser, and very active in his habits, both intellectual and physical. For many years, he has practised gymnastics fifteen minutes every morning, before dressing; throwing his limbs about with an agility which few young men could surpass. Believing the healthy state of the skin to be of great importance, he daily applies friction to his whole body, by means of horse-hair gloves. He is temperate in his diet, and rarely tastes of wine. He is careful not to let his mind rust for want of use. He is always adding to his stock of knowledge, and he takes a lively interest in public affairs. He is now past ninety; yet few have spoken so wisely and boldly as he has concerning the national emergencies which have been occurring during the last ten years. He profits by a hint he received from the venerable John Adams, in answer to the question how he had managed to preserve the vigor of his mind to such an advanced age. “Simply by exercising it,” replied Mr. Adams. “Old minds are like old horses; you must exercise them if you wish to keep them in working order.”

A few years since, the Rev. Daniel Waldo addressed the graduates at Yale College, on Commencement Day. In the course of his remarks, he said: “I am now an old man. I have seen nearly a century. Do you want to know how to grow old slowly and happily? Let me tell you. Always eat slowly; masticate well. Go to your food, to your rest, to your occupations, smiling. Keep a good nature and a soft temper everywhere. Never give way to anger. A violent tempest of passion tears down the constitution more than a typhus fever.”