It is now but a few weeks since Thomas Fielding, who was despised and rejected by Margaretta, married a sweet girl in every way worthy of him. She is not rich in worldly goods, but she is rich in virtuous principles. The former Fielding does not need; but the latter he can cherish “as a holy prize.”
IS MARRIAGE A LOTTERY?
“I AM afraid to marry,” said a young lady, half jesting and half in earnest, replying to something a friend had said.
“Why so, Ella?” asked one of the company, who had thus far chosen rather to listen than join in the conversation of half a dozen gay young girls. She was a quiet, matronly-looking individual, some few years past the prime of life.
“For fear of being unhappy, Mrs. Harding,” replied the first speaker.
“What an idea!” exclaimed a gay damsel, laughing aloud at the singular fear expressed by Ella. “For my part, I never expect to be happy until I am married.”
“If marriage should make you any happier than you are now, Caroline, the result will be very fortunate. Your case will form an exception to the rule.”
“Oh, no, Ella, don’t say that,” spoke up the one who had replied to her first remark. “Happiness is the rule, and unhappiness the exception.”
“Then it happens strangely enough,” returned Ella, smiling, “that we are more familiar with the exceptions than the rule.”
“No, my dear, that cannot for a moment be admitted. Far more of happiness than misery results from marriage.”
“Look at Ellen Mallory,” was answered promptly, “and Mrs. Cummings, and half a dozen others I could name.”
“The two you have mentioned are painful instances, I must admit, and form the exceptions of which I spoke; but the result is by no means one that should excite our surprise, for it is a natural consequence flowing from an adequate cause. If you marry as unwisely as did the persons you mention, I have no doubt but you will be quite as wretched as they are—it may be more so.”
“I am sure Mr. Mallory is an elegant-looking man,” said one of the company, “and might have had his pick among a dozen more attractive girls than ever Ellen Martine was.”
“All as thoughtless and undiscriminating as she,” remarked Mrs. Harding, quietly.
“Ellen is no fool,” returned the last speaker.
“In the most important act of her whole life, she has certainly not shown herself to be a wise woman,” said Mrs. Harding.
“But how in the world was she to know that Mr. Mallory was going to turn out so badly?” spoke up Ella.
“By opening her eyes, and using the ability that God has given her to see,” was answered by Mrs. Harding.
“Those eyes are wondrous wise, I ween, That see what is not to be seen,”
the maiden replied.
“Do you then really think, Ella,” said Mrs. Harding, “that a young lady cannot make herself as thoroughly acquainted with a man’s real qualities as to put any serious mistake in marriage entirely out of the question?”
“To me, I must confess that marriage seems very much like a lottery,” answered Ella. “We may get a prize, but there are ten chances to one of our getting a blank.”
“If you choose to make it a lottery, it will no doubt become so; but if entered into from right motives, there is no danger of this being the case.”
“I don’t know what you call right motives,” said one; “but I’ll tell you a necessary pre-requisite in the man who is to make me a husband.”
“Well, child, what is it?”
“Plenty of money. I’m not going to be a poor man’s wife, and work myself to death, all for love—no, not I!”
“I’ll have a handsome man for a husband, or none,” remarked another.
“Give me splendid talents,” said a third.
“And what must you have, Ella?” asked Mrs. Harding, turning to the one she addressed.
“All three, if I can get them,” replied Ella.
“Beauty, wealth, and talents. These you think would satisfy you?”
“Oh, yes; I should be rather hard to please if they did not.”
“Let me relate to you the histories of two friends of mine who married young,” said Mrs. Harding, without remarking upon what had just been declared. “Perhaps they may contain lessons that it will be of use for you all to get by heart.”
“Oh, yes, do!” said the young ladies, gathering around Mrs. Harding, who, after a short pause, related what follows.
“In my younger days,” began Mrs. Harding, “I had two intimate friends, to whom I was warmly attached. I loved them for their many good qualities, and particularly for their unselfishness. To make others happy, always appeared to give them a double pleasure. They were nearly of the same age, and possessed equal external advantages; but their characters were very different. Sarah Corbin, who was a few months older than her friend and almost constant companion, Harriet Wieland, was quiet, thoughtful, and observant; while Harriet, who had great personal attractions, never appeared to look beneath the surface. She believed every thing to be true that bore the semblance of truth, to her all that glittered was gold. Like you, and most other young ladies, we sometimes talked of marriage, and the qualifications desirable in a good husband. Harriet, whether in a gay or sober mood, always declared, like Ella here, that he who won her heart must have riches, manly beauty, and brilliant talents. These she called man’s cardinal virtues. Sarah never had much to say on these matters, and, when we asked her opinion, she generally replied evasively.
