A cluster of roses

Front matter

J LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. J

/ .333 5

Cluster of Roses.

Preface

At the request of my friend, Miss Bullock, I have arranged, prepared for publication, and supervised while passing through the press, the contents of the present volume. In performing this labor of love, I have not felt like taking any extensive liberties with her productions, but have presented them in the main as they were written; feeling sure that the friends for whom they are intended will prefer to have them just as they emanated from her own mind, and while making allowance for any defects that may appear, will be agreeably surprised at their literary merit, when the great disadvantages under which their author labors are considered. In selecting from the materials at my disposal, I have tried to secure the greatest variety possible, giving specimens of both prose and poetry, blank verse and rhyme, serious compositions as well as some of a lighter strain, and miscellaneous pieces side by side with those of a personal bearing.

It is hard for those who see to appreciate the diffi- « culties that ordinarily meet the blind in their attempts at composition. Homer and Milton, indeed, have proved that blindness is not incompatible with transcendent genius, or with the embodiment of that genius

VI PREFACE.

in poetry that will live forever; Prescott has been equally successful in the department of history; and many eminent blind performers and composers of music are living witnesses that sight is by no means essential to proficiency in either the art or science of harmony. But how can one who has never seen a ray of light be expected to feel or to describe the manifold beauties of nature ? How can he who is measurably cut off by the want of sight from intercourse with his fellows understand the workings of the human heart sufficiently for the truthful delineation of character ? To the blind, but for the kindness of others, literature is a sealed book, researches for information are impossible ; history must be read with the eyes of friends, and even to keep informed of current events is difficult; writing must be done with another's pen, and there is no opportunity of reading over what has been written, either for revision or to insure a logical connection of thought. In a word, there must of necessity be an entire dependence on others ; and it is too often the case that the kind volunteers who are willing to aid the afflicted are themselves not altogether fitted for the work by education or experience.

Such are a few of the disadvantages with which Miss- Bullock has had to contend in composing the pieces here presented. They would have deterred from the attempt any one in whom energy and perseverance

PREFACE. VII

were not leading traits. In her case, to perseverance and energy was added faith. This, I think, will be found the one prominent feature of her writings and of her character — a childlike, implicit, unfaltering confidence in the good Lord. It is touching to see how, when wearied and discouraged, when surrounded with sore trials and difficulties apparently insurmountable, she tells her troubles to her Father, and always, as she says, receives an answer to her prayers. Thus her weakness has been made strength. When the arm of flesh has failed, a mightier arm has sustained her. To her mortal eyes sight has been denied, but with the eye of faith she is able to look forward into that better land where the veil will be removed, and we may all hope to see no longer through a glass darkly, but face to face the brightness of the Father's glory.

Important lessons, I think, may be gleaned from this little volume. Its poems, the breathings of a tried and chastened spirit, teach resignation and contentment, humility and faith, and set forth religion as indeed the pearl of great price. Few can read them without profit — none, without according to their unfortunate author their respect, their sympathy, and their prayers.

G. P. QUACKENBOS.

Contents

PAGE.

A PAGE FROM THE BOOK OF HUMBLE LIFE, 13 AN EXTRACT FROM MY JOURNAL, . . 64 THE POWER OF A SISTER'S LOVE, . . 69 REMINISCENCES OF MY EARLY HOME, . 80 A FLOWER FROM THE BOUQUET OF MEMORY, 85 WHY CHARLES APPLETON BECAME A BENE- DICT, 90

WASHINGTON'S ROCK, . . . . 108

Chapter I

The Father Infinite has bestowed alike on rich and poor the power of doing good. The rich may do deeds of greater magnitude, may cause the hearts of thousands to vibrate with wonder and praise; yet the humblest among us may make their names fragrant through eternity, may place a jewel in the crown of life. The power of creating happiness by conferring benefits, gives to the bestower the purest and most lasting happiness of which the human soul is susceptible. Love is God's actuating principle; therefore he

* The incidents of this narrative are founded on facts. While on a visit at Scarsdale, the writer saw the faithful slave who figures as its heroine, and was present at the affecting meeting between the sailor and his long-lost son.

14 A (JLUSTEk Of 1 RoSES.

would not deny to the children of poverty a taste of that most exquisite pleasure. " Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings thou hast perfected praise. "

In 1849, when the cholera swept through our city like a scourge ; when the strongest stood appalled at the rapid spread of the disease, which then seemed to defy medical skill ; when all who could took refuge in the country, and only those remained who were too poor or friendless to find other homes, — there lived on the fourth floor of a rickety old house in Cherry Street, an aged colored woman ; yet not alone — -a little child was the companion of her poverty, the object of her tenderest care. A year before, a stranger sailor had placed in her arms his motherless babe.

" Be kind to my poor little Johnny," he said, while the tears rolled down his weather-beaten cheeks; " be kind to my poor little Johnny, for there is nobody in the world to care for him but me, and now I must go to sea."

" O massa, neber fear ; while Belle has a piece of bread, little pickaninny shall have some too ; and de good Lord, he won't let us starve, kase we's his children — Johnny and I — we's his children."

" But you shall be rewarded, Belle. In six months I will come back, and give you all the money I earn ; yet money cannot buy the love my little Johnny needs."

" Massa, de love has come already," she said, as she hugged the baby close to her bosom ; " and if de money comes, dat good ; but if not, den de Lord will send de bread."

" God bless you, Belle, God bless you!" Tears rolled afresh down his face ; he wiped them away with the cuff of his coat ; his heart was too full for utterance, and he silently gave his toil-worn hand to the protectress of his child.

" Don't cry, massa ; Jesus loves dis dear little boy ; he blessed jes sech little boys when he was on earth." The father could not answer. Slowly he descended the creaking staircase. He lingered at the outer door, as if he could not shut himself out from his child; yet he did, for the hardest things must be done, the bitterest cup must be drained to the dregs, and on his lacerated heart the faith of that poor woman fell like the refreshing dew ; it soothed his anguish, it strengthened the better purpose of his soul.

" If anybody gives me a tract, I won't throw it away, and I won't sell it, neither; the religion Belle's got is the religion I want, and I'll get it if I can." These were the thoughts that bore him company as he hurried down to the ship, about to hoist sail and be away — down to the hardships and toil of sailor-life ; down to the bosom of old ocean ; there to bear through weary months and years the sorrows of his surcharged heart.

In early life Belle had been a slave; but the kindness of master and mistress had cemented the tie of love, and when the State emancipated its negroes, Belle gladly remained in her former home. Clara and Eliza, the sisters of Mrs. P., had carefully instructed her in the truths of the Gospel. They had made her acquainted with the Lord's Prayer, the Creed, and the Ten Commandments; and she served her mistress faithfully, for she knew it was her Heavenly Father's will that she should so do. She was also a participant in the benefits and comforts of her holy church, quietly walking in the fear of God.

In process of time, Belle underwent an experience like that of her fairer sisters. A love-dream entered her heart, and she realized it in Henry Black, a stalwart negro then in the employment of a gentleman

resident during the summer in the village of S .

Their ardent feelings would not admit of delay; so when winter had covered the earth with a robe of white and crystallized the boughs of the leafless trees, they were married.

" Oh!" said Clara, as she laid the last warm garment in her trunk (for from the time they knew their faithful servitor must leave them, both sisters had busily plied the needle), " you do not love us, and you wish to go away/'

"Oh! don't say dat, Miss Clara, or you breaks my

A CLUSTER OF ROSES.

heart; kase you know I loves you. You's been so good to me, I couldn't help it. But de big love corned, and it filled my heart chuck full. De big love is de strong love, and I must go wid it. Somehow it spreads over all de rest, but it don't take it away — oh, no, it don't take it away, and I lubs you all de same. Dere comes missey ; she knows what de big love is."

" I hope you may be very happy in your new love, Belle," said Mrs. P., in answer to her appeal ; " but remember, God must have your first love. He is your Creator, Christ is your Saviour; and do not forget to go to church. There you will find the bread of life, and peace in the time of trouble, for trouble will come — it comes to all in God's good time. But, if you do your duty faithfully to God and your husband, he will not forsake you, he will strengthen and comfort you — 1 He knoweth our frame, he remembereth we are dust.'"

" Jest as if I could live widout de church !" responded Belle. " I wants to hear what de minister says, and I won't forgit de good words Miss Clara teached me."

" Don't cry, Belle; I know you will be a good girl."

11 And I'll sing de same hymns we singed Sunday evenings, and say de same prayers, though you's be here and I be dar."

" One God and one Heaven for us all, Belle, remember that. But there comes the sleigh. In the box you will find a bed and bedding. Miss Clara and Miss Eliza will come to the city, and buy your crockery and kitchen utensils. You have been a good girl ; I wish we could have done more for you." She kissed the hands of her mistress, and rode away to fulfill the duties of her lowly lot according to the light received.

Henry was an excellent carpenter, and readily found employment. The family of Mr. P. returned to the routine of home duties and social pleasures.

Three years went by. One morning, as Henry was hastening to his work, questioning within himself why he was not a father, since those later married had been blessed with little ones to give and receive love, and he knew Belle would make such a good mother, he was almost tempted to murmur. They had been talking over their disappointed hopes, and he went to his employment with a heavy heart. Suddenly the scaffolding on which he was standing gave way, he fell, and was carried to his home. It was found that, besides a contusion on the head, more serious injuries had been inflicted. He was never able to resume work.

"Honey," said Belle to him one day, as he lay mourning his helplessness, "now I sees why God has not given us little ones — kase you need all my love and care; then there's no pickaninny to be afeard for."

" But it . grieves me," was Henry's reply, "to think that I must be a burden to you, when I meant to be your support."

" Neber mind, honey; you's got friends, and I's got hands, and dey can work."

" And must I lie here, and see you toiling for my bread?"

" But, honey, you can read de good book, and feed my soul while I feeds your body ; for you knows de soul gets hungry jest like de body. Now, dat's a fair bargain, and don't tink you's any burden to me."

Belle, being a good laundress, found more work than strong hands and willing heart could do; so they got on comfortably, assisted by the timely aid of those who knew their worth, the sweetness of the faith that illumined and solaced these humble followers of the Lamb. His body was fed by the labor of her hands, and her soul was refreshed by the dew of God's blessing, which always follows a prayerful hearing of his word.

Time ; which rends the strongest links of affection, brought Henry to the threshold of death. " Can it be," said he, as he lay on the bed of suffering, " that five years have been told since the fearful morning that witnessed my murmuring thoughts, when the hand of the Lord was laid upon me in blessing, not in anger? I now see how gracious he is in what he withholds."

" Henry, dese have been de blessedest days in all our lives, kase I has you wid me all de time ; and when I gits tired, den we sing and you reads de Bible, and dat rests me."

"These have not been tedious days to me," answered Henry, " for they have been fraught with God's blessing, and sweetened with your love."

" Honey, don't you tink God would let you stay a little longer, if I would pray all day and all night ? Kase you knows, when de disciples prayed, de Lord opened de door and let Peter out ; and, honey, I can't live widout you."

" No, no, love, my time has come. I have tried to bear the cross, and I think my Saviour will give me the crown. He knows how hard it is for you to give me up; cast your burden on him, and he will sustain you. Pray for resignation to his will, and rest assured that your prayer will be answered."

The eleventh chapter of St. John was read before the evening prayer. Christ wept over Lazarus dead ; how significant to bereaved hearts are these tears, for they tell us, more emphatically than words, that He is acquainted with our griefs.

It chanced one day that the minister called when Belle was out. During the conversation that took place between them, Henry said: "One thing has grieved me — my wife's want of education. I knew her intrinsic worth, and I had hoped after marriage to have instructed her; but I was obliged to abandon the effort. Her mind was pre-occupied, and she was weary with the toils of the day ; so, knowing that, though ignorant of this world's lore, she had found the pearl of great price, I rested content. For her sake I thank the fathers of our church for the plain wording of her prayers and collects ; for when we knelt together, I did not fear that some long and uncommon word would confuse my poor wife, and draw her thoughts away from Christ. No, however prone to the use of learned language a minister may be, he cannot display it there."

" That thought never suggested itself to my mind, ,, replied the clergyman; "but I can realize what a comfort it must have been to you, and I can readily conceive how one might unconsciously use words with which his hearers are unacquainted. But I perceive you have cultivated your mind to a greater extent than I should have supposed possible for one in your circumstances."

"My story will explain it," answered Henry, "I was born in Florida; my mother was the property of Mr. Bernard, an estimable man — a widower, with one little girl, the only pledge of love the pitiless Angel of Death had left him. Over the graves of his wife and baby the willow waved, the flowers bloomed, and the birds sang; so the pent-up fondness of his heart was lavished on his little Lucy. The sunbeam of his home, the brightness of his being, was his blue-eyed Lucy, as in his moments of dalliance he loved to call her — as he played with her golden curls, or kissed her transparent brow, wreathed with the smiles of childhood ; and well do I remember how he trembled with delight at each newly-developed charm, and drank in the sweetness of her infant words.

"In Lucy's sixth summer, Mr. Bernard was obliged to go to Maine, to administer the estate of his brother, who had died intestate. During his absence a malignant fever broke out on the plantation. Lucy had been too much indulged to yield implicit obedience to the wishes of her young governess; when she knew her old nurse was sick, she ran crying to her hut and threw her arms about her neck. ' Dear Dinah,' she sobbed, ' don't die, don't leave Lucy; do get well, and I will never, never be naughty again.'

" ' Take de poor lamb away — she kotch de fever. Dar, dar, go, honey — you can't save Dinah.'

" Lucy was carried to her young governess, who was terrified when she knew that her young charge had breathed the air of infection. Her fears were but too well founded ; Lucy fell a victim to the fever. All stood aghast, then ran hither and thither, asking each other what they should do. My mother assumed the post of nurse ; the doctor saw she was equal to the emergency, and ordered that Lucy should be left exclusively to her care. Night and day she watched over the home-idol; it seemed as if supernatural strength had been given her, and that the words of holy writ were verified — ' As thy day is, so shall thy strength be.'

"Lucy implored them to send for her father; but the letter, directed to Augusta, did not reach him. Still she cried, ' Please send for papa, dear papa — I want to see him so; will you send for papa, doctor?'

w ' The crisis came ; it was an hour fraught with the deepest anxiety. My mother durst not even move, but earnestly prayed that God would spare the life so dear to all — the life she knew it would break her master's heart to come and find gone out. She could hardly believe the evidence of sight, when the blue eyes opened and the pale lips wore a smile.

"'Thank God!' said the doctor, 'the crisis has passed, and Mr. Bernard will see his sweet child again. You have watched her faithfully, Emma ; now you may take some rest — the danger is over.'

"My mother begged to be allowed to stay, since Dinah was dead; she was not tired — indeed she was not.

" The day following, Mr. Bernard returned ; a letter directed to Philadelphia had found him. His previously-arranged plans were abandoned, and with the utmost speed of steam he had hastened to his only remaining treasure. She was sweetly sleeping. At a gesture from the doctor, he repressed the words of joy that trembled on his lips ; he durst not stay, lest the warmth of affection should get the better of prudence, so he silently passed to the library.

"'More than to my skill,' said the doctor, 'are you indebted to the faithful nursing of Emma for the life of your child. No mother could have watched with more unwearying tenderness or devoted love over her own offspring than did Emma over Lucy.'

"One day, as Mr. Bernard held his daughter in his arms, he called my mother to him. 'What is there,' he asked, ' that you would like most to have in all the world, if I could give it to you ?'

" My mother folded her arms across her breast; the tears stood in her eyes. She feared to speak ; she trembled in every limb ; the boon dearest to her in life she durst not ask. But the kind smile of Mr. Bernard reassured her, and, falling on her knees and kissing Lucy's hand, she cried, ' Dear massa, good massa, oh ! let my little boy be free ! Let him grow up a free man, and I will work for you and Miss Lucy, and never think it hard. I want nothing for myself; only make my little Henry free !'

" ' Could you part with your boy, if his best interests required it?' asked Mr. Bernard.

"'Yes, if he is to be free,' was my mother's eager answer. ^

"'Dismiss your fears,' said Mr. Bernard; 'I will send him to those who will do justice to him, and when Lucy is old enough to take care of herself you shall join him.'

" 'That is the best thing you ever did,' said the doctor to Mr. Bernard; 'leave the matter to me; I will find a good place for the boy/

" Three weeks afterwards, the papers were placed in my mother's hands. The doctor had written to a friend of his, an architect, who wanted a boy to do errands. I was to go to school until I was old enough to learn the trade of my employer. Mr. Bernard placed two hundred dollars in the doctor's hands, to be spent for my benefit, if required ; if not, it was to be allowed to accumulate for a birthday gift when I was twenty-one. So, in the autumn of my eighth year, I received my mother's last kiss, and was taken to my new life.

" Mr. Bernard proposed my not going till spring, but my mother could not entertain the thought; she feared that by some unforeseen event the golden opportunity might be lost, and though her heart was torn by the wrench, she would not allow feeling to supersede judgment. The doctor was obliged to go to Boston to attend a medical convention, and she could trust me to his care.

" Mr. Dill, in whose family, through the providence of God, I was placed, was a truly pious man. His wife had passed the meridian of life, and her brown locks were threaded with grey. She-was kind to me, although she had to contend with an irascible temper, and I sometimes thought myself unjustly punished. George, their only child, was two years my senior. He gave me his little books, and when he saw it pleased his father, he taught me the alphabet, for Mr. Dill inculcated the practice of the principle of love, which he said was the foundation-stone of religion.

" Perhaps you would like to know what my home was like. The neat white house, with green blinds, stood a little back from the road, shaded by a mountain ash. As you entered the gate, a narrow path, bordered with box and redolent with flowers, brought you to the door ; the stoop had seats facing each other. More precious than the dews of Hermon is the memory of that porch; for there, on each Lord's Day, the younglips of George distilled into my soul the truths of eternal life.

" Do not imagine from this that George was one of your sad, serious, long-faced boys ; on the contrary, he was among the wildest and most mischievous of children. In every prank he was the leader; but Mr. Dill had impressed on his mind the precept of the wise man, 'Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might ;' and when the Lord's Day came, George would as soon have thought of throwing himself into the fire as playing ; religion, being the business of the day, absorbed all other considerations in this wellregulated family. The task of instruction gave him a higher idea of his own responsibility, and early initiated him in the secret of doing good. Religion is love in embryo, love developing, love perfected ; it springs from the fount of love — pure, undefiled love — the essence of God himself; and even in our days of fasting the radiance of that love diffuses itself through the sinstricken soul, till the bitter waters of repentance are sweetened by the infusion of a still and holy joy.

" In the rear of the house were two horse-chestnuts, whose branches met and formed a perfect shade ; beyond was the garden, in which I have spent many happy hours ; for a peculiar pleasure springs from the development of nature, especially when the seeds have been planted by one's own hand.

" From time to time I heard from my mother. At last a letter came from the doctor, telling me that for her there were no more tears, no more sighing; and soon after he informed me that Lucy had been placed in a boarding-school at Boston. When circumstances prevented my going to school, George not only lent me books, but heard the lessons which I found time during the long winter evenings to study. It was not till George entered college that I realized all he had been to me, but I trust that the seeds then planted in my heart will bear fruit in eternity.

" At the expiration of my apprenticeship, Mr. Bernard, who was staying with a friend in Augusta, wished to travel for the re-establishment of his health. A desire to become acquainted with places and scenes about which I had read, induced me to enter his service.

" From Mr. Bernard I learned it was Lucy's soft hand that closed my mother's eyes and scattered the first flowers over her grave. I remained with him till circumstances rendered a return to the South a necessity. One of his college chums, with whom he spent a few days, wanted a man to work in his garden. I took the place, and retained it till my marriage. ,,

Chapter II

A few days after the conversation related in the last chapter, the dying Christian expressed a desire to taste the memorials of his Saviour's dying love ; so the stand was covered with a snowy napkin, in readiness for the consecrated elements. Henry was supported in his arm-chair. Two female friends were seated near him, when the minister entered — but not alone; a man with a frank, open countenance, brown eyes, and black hair, was his companion.

"Henry, can you bear a surprise?" asked the minister.

" Yes, all is from the Lord," was the reply.

The gentleman stepped up and took his hand ; Henry recognized the boy-teacher of his childhood. "Father," he cried, "I thank thee that thou didst hear my prayer!"

"Did you indeed pray for my coming?" asked his visitor.

" Yes," replied Henry ; "that was my earnest, though unexpressed wish, and I told it only to Jesus."

" How remarkable!" exclaimed the gentleman ; and then turning to the minister, he added, " I was so strongly impressed that I must go to Mrs. Haven's, where I met you, while on my way to the Oratorio of the Messiah, that I felt constrained to forego my original purpose and obey the admonition."

" Oh! can it be," cried Henry, " that, poor and unworthy as I am, my prayer has been so wonderfully answered by the Lord of Heaven and earth ? My soul is overwhelmed with gratitude ; oh ! why is the Lord so good to me? Praise, praise to his name forever!"

How full of consolation, how rich with the unction of peace, the Saviour's feast of love is, only the dying know who stand on the verge of the better land, waiting for entrance into his blessed presence ; and to the communicating friends it is the pledge of an eternal union, a Sabbath of holy memory. Only eternity can show how the holy communion strengthens the soul of the dying, and supports the timid feet about to treacl the waters of Jordan ; we shall realize its efficacy only when we recount to each other the needful stripes the hand of tender love was obliged to lay upon us to keep us in the narrow path.

The Gloria in Excelsis, at the close of the ceremony, rose from grateful hearts. The bass of George, the tenor of the minister, and the soprano of the women, blended harmoniously, floated out of the window, and little children on the sidewalk stopped their play to listen, as the cadence of angelic song vibrated on the evening air, and reached the bended ear of God. Henry had wished to hear once more this chant, whose petitions were the life-blood of his soul; it needed not the organ-sustaining power, for their glowing hearts were touched by the finger of love.