Allegories of Life | Page 9

floated on the air,--pleasant to the ear as
the perfume of the roses climbing over the door was to the sense of
smell. It chimed with the spell of the summer morning, and the sisters
knew that harmony was within.
"Let us enter," said Joy.
Sorrow, who was unwilling to go into any abode, lingered outside.
Within, all was as clean and orderly as one could desire: the young girls
were diligently sewing, while before them lay an open volume, from
which they occasionally read a page or so, thus mingling instruction
with labor.
Joy entered, and accosted them with, "A bright morning."
"Very lovely," answered the girls, and they arose and placed a chair for
their visitor.
"We have much to be grateful for every day, but very much on such a
day as this," remarked the grandmother.
"You're a busy family," said Joy.
"Yes, we all labor, and are fond of it," answered the woman, looking
fondly at the girls. "We have many blessings, far more than we can be
grateful for, I sometimes think."
"Yes, I tell mother," broke in the husband, "that we must never lose
sight of our blessings; in fact, they are all such, though often in
disguise."
At that moment Sorrow looked in at the open door. It was so seldom
that she was recognized that she longed to enter.
"You have a friend out there: ask her in," said the woman.
Joy turned and motioned her sister to enter. She came in softly, and sat
beside Joy, while the woman spoke of her family, at the desire of each
of the sisters to know of her causes of happiness.
"Yes, they are all blessings in disguise," she said, "though I could not
think thus when I laid my fair-eyed boy in the grave; nor, later, when
my next child was born blind."
"Had you none other?" asked Joy.

"One other, and she died of a broken heart."
Sorrow sighed deeply, and would rather have heard no more; but Joy
wished to hear the whole, and asked the woman to go on.
"Yes, she died heart-broken; and these two girls are hers. It was very
hard that day to see the hand of God in the cloud when they brought the
body of her husband home all mangled, and so torn that not a feature
could be recognized; and then to see poor Mary, his wife, pine day by
day until we laid her beside him."
"But the blessing was in it, mother: we have found it so. They have
only gone to prepare the way, and we have much left us."
The words of the old man were true, and it was beautiful to see the face
of his wife as it glowed with recognition.
At that moment the sisters threw back their veils. Such a radiant face
was never seen in that cottage as the beaming countenance of Joy;
while that of her sister was dark and sad to look upon.
"Oh, stay with us," exclaimed the girls to Joy, as the sisters rose to
depart.
"Most gladly would I, but I have a work to perform in your village; and,
beside, I cannot leave my sister."
"But she is so dark and sad, why not leave her to go alone?" said the
youngest girl, who had never seen Sorrow nor heard of her mission to
earth before.
Sorrow was standing in the door and heard her remark. She hoped the
day would never come when she should have to carry woe to her young
heart; but her life was so uncertain she knew not who would be the next
whom she would have to envelop in clouds. She sighed, plucked a rose,
and pressed it to her nostrils, as though it was the last sweetness she
would ever inhale.
"How I pity her!" said the grandmother, her warm, blue eyes filling
with tears, as she looked at the bowed form in the doorway.
"Ah, good woman, she needs it; for few recognize her mission to them.
She is sent by our master to administer woes which contain heavenly
truths, while I convey glad tidings. I shall never leave my sister save
when our labors are divided."
Thus spoke Joy, while tears filled the eyes of all.
Then the kind woman went and plucked some roses and gave them to
Sorrow, who was weeping.

"I did not half know myself," she said, addressing the sad form; "I
thought I could see God's angels everywhere, but this time how have I
failed! Forgive me," she said to Sorrow, "and when you are weary and
need rest, come to our cottage."
Sorrow gave her a sad but heavenly smile, and the sisters departed to
the next abode.
"Did you ever see them before?" asked the