The Argosy — page 325: what you’re looking at

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304 A Dream from Heaven. When I look back on the last few years I ask myself how we have lived, and I cannot answer. Things have only gone on from bad to worse. Our once happy home—not a vestige of it remains. Struggles, debts, duns, avoidance of creditors ; these have been ours. One day spent in scheming how to obtain a dinner for the following, and in harassing uncertainties as to where we should the approaching week lay our heads. A few pounds from one source, a few from another ; half a dozen shillings, begged or borrowed, serving for the Supplies of one day, none the next ; comforts not even glanced at, luxuries remem- bered as things that exist not for us, bare necessaries scantily supplied, and not always! And thus have we gone on for weeks, and months, and years. Saturday.—Another week ended. Surely the approaching one must bring something to pass. And yet—how many weeks have gone before it, and have brought nothing! How harshly do those who have not known adversity judge of the world! they imagine that dishonour, if not crime, must necessarily attend fallen fortunes. So-and-so is “ sold up,” cried someone in my hearing at a house where I was the other day. ‘‘ And he’s over head-and-ears in debt besides. I look upon a fellow, sir, who runs headlong into debt, as little better than a swindler and a robber.” Harsh epithets for one man to bestow upon another ! | I dread to-night. For 7am in debt; petty debt to petty trades- people around the neighbourhood ; and they will come at this, the end of the week, knocking at the door. But not voluntary debt ; no, no; never think it. I was bred with the nicest sense of honour; taught to avoid debt as a crime: I would endure the sharp pangs of famine, even unto death—I ave tasted of them—rather than sustain life by obtaining food for which I could not pay; but I dare not let those starve who depend on me for support. How eagerly I have strug- sled, and do struggle, to obtain employment, none can know; no matter what ; anything that would but bring in the money for a bit of bread ; and succeed I cannot. | Sunday Morning.—Thank God for Sunday! When I awake in the morning, and the remembrance that it is the Sabbath comes rushing over me, the thought speaks blessings to my soul. A day of rest and peace. How many, without this intervening cessation of their fiery antagonism with the world, would lay down their heads hopelessly and die! To-day everything is lovely ; everything in the outward, visible world. The trees are clothed in the fresh green of early spring, the hedges are budding forth, and the sweet flowers are opening to the warm rays of the genial sun. Quiet reigns around ; sounds of every- day life are not, and the very air is at rest; a rest that soothes the mind and almost speaks of hope. Now the bells have begun for morning service. They are ringing m Eomichbooks.co