Mary at the Farm and Book of Recipes Compiled during Her Visit Part 17

CHAPTER XXVIII.

FAITHFUL SERVICE.

The home-making instinct was so strongly developed in Mary that her share in the labor of cooking and baking became a pleasure.

Occasionally she had failures--what inexperienced cook has not?--yet they served only to spur her on to fresh efforts. She had several small scars on her wrist caused by her arm coming in contact with the hot oven when baking. She laughingly explained: "One bar on my arm represents that delicious 'Brod Torte' which Frau Schmidt taught me to bake; the other one I acquired when removing the sponge cake from the oven which Uncle John said 'equaled Aunt Sarah's' (which I consider highest praise), and the third bar I received when taking from the oven the 'Lemon Meringue,' Ralph's favorite pie, which he p.r.o.nounced 'fine, almost too good to eat.'" Mary was as proud of her scars as a young, non-commissioned officer of the chevron on his sleeve, won by deeds of valor.

The lessons Mary learned that summer on the farm while filling her hope chest and preparing her mind for wifehood were of inestimable value to her in later years. She learned not only to bake, brew and keep house, but from constant a.s.sociation with her Aunt she acquired a self-poise, a calm, serene manner, the value of which is beyond price in this swift, restless age.

One day, while having a little heart-to-heart talk with Mary, her Aunt said: "My dear, never allow an opportunity to pa.s.s for doing a kind act. If ever so small, it may cheer some sad, lonely heart. Don't wait to do _big things_. The time may never come. If only a kind word, speak it at once. Kind words cost so little, and we should all be more prodigal with them; and to a tired, sad, discouraged soul, a kind word or act means so very much; and who is there that has not at some time in life known sorrow and felt the need of sympathy? Were our lives all suns.h.i.+ne we could not feel in touch with sorrowing friends. How natural it is for our hearts to go out in sympathy to the one who says 'I have suffered.' Give to your friend the warm hand-clasp and cheery greeting' which cost us nothing in the giving. 'Tis the little lifts which help us over stones in our pathway through life. We think our cross the heaviest when, did we but know the weight of others, we'd not willingly exchange; and remember Mary, 'there are no crown-bearers in Heaven that were not cross-bearers below.' Have you ever read the poem, 'The Changed Cross?' No? Well, I will give it to you to copy in your book of recipes. Should you ever, in future years, feel your cross too heavy to bear, read the poem. How many brave, cheery little women greet us with a smile as they pa.s.s. But little do we or any one realize that instead of a song in their hearts the smiles on their lips conceal troubles the world does not suspect, seeking to forget their own sorrows while doing kindly acts for others. They are the real heroes whom the world does not reward with medals for bravery, 'To stand with a smile upon your face against a stake from which you cannot get away, that, no doubt, is heroic; but the true glory is not resignation to the inevitable. To stand unchained, with perfect liberty to go away, held only by the higher claims of duty, and let the fire creep up to the heart, that is heroism.' Ah! how many good women have lived faithful to duty when 'twould have been far easier to have died!"

"FAITHFUL OVER A FEW THINGS."

Matt. xxv: 23.

It may seem to you but a trifle, which you have been called to do; Just some humble household labor, away from the public view, But the question is, are you faithful, and striving to do your best, As in sight of the Blessed Master, while leaving to Him the rest?

It may be but a little corner, which you have been asked to fill; What matters it, if you are in it, doing the Master's will?

Doing it well and faithfully, and doing it with your might; Not for the praise it may bring you, but because the thing is right.

In the sight of man you may never win anything like success; And the laurel crown of the victor may never your temples press; If only you have G.o.d's approval, 'twill not matter what else you miss, His blessing is Heaven beginning, His reward will be perfect bliss.

Be faithful in every service, obedient to every call; Ever ready to do His bidding, whether in great things or small; You may seem to accomplish little, you may win the praise of none; But be sure you will win His favor, and the Master's great "Well Done."

And when at His blessed coming, you stand at His judgment seat; He'll remember your faithful service and His smile will be Oh! so sweet!

He will bid you a loving welcome, He'll make you to reign for aye, Over great things and o'er many, with Him, through eternal day.

"THE CHANGED CROSS."

It was a time of sadness, and my heart, Although it knew and loved the better part, Felt wearied with the conflict and the strife, And all the needful discipline of life.

And while I thought on these as given to me, My trial tests of faith and love to be, It seemed as if I never could be sure That faithful to the end I should endure.

And thus, no longer trusting to His might, Who says, "We walk by faith and not by sight"; Doubting and almost yielding to despair, The thought arose--My cross I cannot bear.

Far heavier its weight must surely be Than those of others which I daily see; Oh! if I might another burden choose, Methinks I should not fear my crown to lose.

A solemn silence reigned on all around, E'en nature's voices uttered not a sound; The evening shadows seemed of peace to tell, And sleep upon my weary spirit fell.

A moment's pause and then a heavenly light Beamed full upon my wondering, raptured sight; Angels on silvery wings seemed everywhere, And angels' music filled the balmy air.

Then One more fair than all the rest to see-- One to whom all the others bowed the knee-- Came gently to me as I trembling lay, And, "Follow Me!" He said, "I am the Way."

Then speaking thus, He led me far above, And there, beneath a canopy of love, Crosses of divers shapes and sizes were seen, Larger and smaller than my own had been.

And one there was, most beauteous to behold, A little one, with jewels set in gold; Ah! this methought, I can with comfort wear, For it will be an easy one to bear.

And so, the little cross I quickly took, But all at once, my frame beneath it shook; The sparkling jewels fair were they to see, But far too heavy was their weight for me.

"This may not be," I cried, and looked again To see if there was any here could ease my pain; But one by one I pa.s.sed them slowly by, Till on a lovely one I cast my eye.

Fair flowers around its sculptured form entwined, And grace and beauty seemed in it combined; Wondering, I gazed and still I wondered more, To think so many should have pa.s.sed it o'er.

But Oh! that form so beautiful to see, Soon made its hidden sorrows known to me; Thorns lay beneath those flowers and colors fair; Sorrowing, I said. "This cross I may not bear."

And so it was with each and all around, Not one to suit my need could there be found; Weeping, I laid each heavy burden down, As my guide gently said: "No cross, no crown."

At length to him I raised my saddened heart, He knew its sorrows, bid its doubts depart; "Be not afraid," He said, "but trust in Me, My perfect love shall now be shown to thee."

And then with lightened eyes and willing feet, Again I turned my earthly cross to meet; With forward footsteps, turning not aside For fear some hidden evil might betide.

And there, in the prepared, appointed way, Listening to hear, and ready to obey, A cross I quickly found of plainest form, With only words of love inscribed thereon.

With thankfulness, I raised it from the rest, And joyfully acknowledged it the best; The only one of all the many there That I could feel was good for me to bear.

And while I thus my chosen one confessed, I saw a heavenly brightness on it rest; And as I bent my burden to sustain, I recognized my own old cross again.

But, oh! how different did it seem to be!

Now I had learned its preciousness to see; No longer could I unbelievingly say: "Perhaps another is a better way."

Oh, no! henceforth my own desire shall be That He who knows me best should choose for me, And so whate'er His love sees good to send, I'll trust its best, because He knows the end.

And when that happy time shall come Of endless peace and rest, We shall look back upon our path And say: "It was the best."

CHAPTER XXIX.

MARY, RALPH, JAKE AND SIBYLLA VISIT THE ALLENTOWN FAIR.

Late in September Jake and Sibylla drove to the Allentown Fair. It was "Big Thursday" of Fair week. They started quite early, long before Ralph Jackson, who had come from the city the day previous, to take Mary to the Fair, had arisen.

[Ill.u.s.tration: SECOND CHURCH BUILDING

Sheltered Liberty Bell, 1777-78. Photographed from the print of an old wood cut used in a German newspaper in the year 1840]

Mary, while appreciating Sibylla's good qualities, never failed to be amused at her broad "Pennsylvania German" dialect.

The morning of the "Fair," Mary arose earlier than usual to allow Sibylla and Jake to get an early start, as it was quite a distance from the farm to the Fair grounds. As they were about to drive away, Sibylla, alighting from the carriage, said, "I forgot my 'Schnupftuch.'" Returning with it in her hand, she called, as she climbed into Jake's buggy, "Gut-by, Mary, it looks fer rain."

"Yes" said Jake, "I think it gives rain before we get back yet. The cornfodder in the barn this morning was damp like it had water on it."

And said Mary, "The fragrance of the flowers was particularly noticeable early this morning." Jake, as it happened, was no false prophet. It did rain before evening.