But is there yet no other way besides
Those painful passages, how we may come
To death, and mix with our connatural dust?
“There is,” said Michael, “if thou will observe
The rule of not too much, by temperance taught.”

MILTON’S PARADISE LOST.

Till oft converse with heavenly habitants,
Begin to cast a beam on th’ outward shape,
The unpolluted temple of the mind,
And turns it by degrees to the soul’s essence,
Till all be made immortal.

COMUS.

The shades of evening were falling as Holden entered the village. He proceeded straight to the house of Mr. Armstrong, whom he had seen twice or thrice already since his return from New York, though we have made no mention of the visits.

He found Armstrong thinner and paler than ever. The constitutional melancholy with which he was afflicted appeared to have deepened, and there was something now in the tones of his voice so sad and tender, that they moved Holden to an extraordinary degree. Other friends of Armstrong were affected by them, but, with the exception of Faith, there was no one who seemed to lay these signs of unhappiness so much to heart as the Solitary. This, perhaps, may account, in a measure, for the increased frequency of his visits.

A smile like sunshine stealing from behind a wintry cloud over the pure snow, welcomed Holden. As he took the offered hand of Armstrong, he found it extenuated and cold, and pressed it with more than ordinary feeling, before he took a seat by his side. The first inquiry of the Recluse was, as usual, after Faith.

“She is out,” answered her father, “but I expect her soon.”

“The sight of Faith is to me as the beauty and fragrance of days long gone,” said Holden. “Unsinning Eve was not more lovely.”

“She was early dedicated to her God, and is, indeed, a meet offering for his altar,” said Armstrong.

“Blessed are they,” exclaimed Holden, “whose feet have never strayed from the straight and narrow way. Where they tread spring up immortal flowers, and they breathe the air of Paradise.”

“And, alas!” said Armstrong, “how short is usually their stay. How soon they depart for the celestial regions, to which they belong, leaving breaking hearts behind!”

“Woe to the earth-born selfishness, that riseth up in opposition! It is not agreeable to the law of God, nor can be. Down with the rebellion of ignorance and unbelief.”

“But is no allowance to be made for human weakness? May we not weep over the calamities of life?”

“Aye, weep, if the tears wash out a sin, but not because the divine will is different from thine own. What callest thou calamity? There is no calamity, but sin.”

“It is hard,” sighed Armstrong, “to reach that height of abnegation and faith to which you would have me aspire.”

“Hard, but attainable, for without faith it is impossible to please Him. There are examples set before us for imitation of what the trusting spirit can achieve. By faith Abraham offered up Isaac when he was tried, having confidence that God could raise him up even from the dead. By faith but why should I recount the deeds of those grand souls, of whom the world was not worthy, who, through faith, subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the violence of fire, even from Enoch, who tasted not the bitterness of death, and Elijah, mounting on a fiery chariot, in a whirlwind, to heaven, down to these latter days, when, as said the apostle, ’faith should wax weak, and almost perish from the earth?’”

Armstrong looked at Holden, with an expression like fear.

“Who is equal to these things?” said he.

“I knew a man once,” said the Enthusiast, thinking of the peril he had just escaped, and darkly shadowing forth its circumstances, “whom a ravening lion sought to destroy, and the heart of the man sunk within him, for, in view of the beast, he forgot that the Lord God omnipotent reigneth, but an angel whispered it in his ear, and strengthened him, and he defied the lion, and smote him, and killed the lion. Thus doth the Lord continue to perform his marvellous works, for he is faithful and true, and his mercy endureth for ever to them that love him.”

Of course, Armstrong could have no correct idea of what Holden alluded to, nor did he inquire. It was to him only another instance, added by his enthusiastic friend, to the long catalogue of those in the sacred record, for whom faith had triumphed over danger, and wrought deliverance.

“It is, indeed,” he said, “a mighty means to bring down the divine blessing.”

“As is the law of gravitation to the worlds,” said Holden, looking out upon the clear sky, filled with stars, “which is the constant force flowing from the living centre of all things, and retaining them in harmonious movement in their orbits; so is faith to the human soul. When it is present all is peace, and harmony, and joy; when it is absent, a wild chaos, whirling in darkness and confusion, over which the Spirit hath never brooded like a dove.”

At this moment the door opened, and Miss Armstrong, attended by William Bernard, entered the room. She advanced towards Holden, and gave him her hand, which he took into both of his, and looking fondly at her, said:

“Dear child, thy mother’s image, the room is brighter for thy presence.”

“There, William,” said Faith, smiling, “a lady seldom receives so delicate a compliment.”

“Mr. Holden,” said Bernard, “belongs to the old school of politeness, of which Sir Charles Grandison is the model. Modern degeneracy might strive in vain to compete with it.”

There was a slight, a very slight, an almost imperceptible tone of irony about the words, which did not escape the sensitive ear of Holden. He turned towards Bernard, and fastened his large eyes upon him, in silence, awhile, before he said:

“The secret of politeness is to be found in warmth and goodness of heart. Flame blazes not up from ice.” The words, the tone, the look, conveyed his estimate of the character of the young man, and was not without influence on one, at least, of his auditors. “But,” continued he, “thy presence, Faith, is truly, to me, as light. Deemest thou me capable of unmeaning compliments?”

“No,” answered Faith, suspecting the little feeling of resentment, and desirous to soothe it, “I do not. Forgive my absurd observation.”

“And I hope,” said Bernard, in his most engaging manner, “that Mr. Holden is not offended at my classing him among those who for delicacy and refinement were never surpassed.”

“I like not,” said Holden, “to be made a subject of conversation. We will find a fitter topic.”

“You spoke of Faith’s resemblance to her mother,” said Mr. Armstrong, “whose quick sensibility had also detected the jarring string; how did you discover it?”

“You forget,” answered Holden, “that in conversation with me you have spoken of her.”

“But not described her appearance.”

“The resemblance of a child to a parent, may be oftentimes deduced from qualities of the mind, and traits of character. The outer garment is fitted to the interior man. The exterior and transient is the product of the interior and permanent. But I mean not that it was thus I discovered the likeness; and if for a moment I misled thee, let me correct my error and thy mistake. You will consider these as the speculations of a visionary.”

“I do not consider them without foundation,” said Armstrong, who, in the turn given to the conversation, seemed to have forgotten his question.

“It is a speculation which, followed out, might lead to many interesting conclusions,” said Bernard. “Mr. Holden would greatly oblige us with his ideas.”

“Do,” said Faith, who delighted in the Solitary’s flights. “Explain, dear Mr. Holden, your theory.”

Holden looked at Mr. Armstrong, who bowed.

“The first man, Adam,” said Holden, “was created perfect, perfect in body as in mind. The dignity and beauty of his person corresponded to the grandeur and purity of his soul, of which it was the outward expression. All graces and harmonies, and perfections of creation centered in him, for he was the image of his Maker. He was incapable of disease, because disease is disharmony and the fruit of sin, which as yet existed not. And he was obedient unto the voice of the Lord, nor did he transgress His laws in anything. His meat was the herb of the field and the fruit of the tree, and his drink the running brook. He had no permission to eat of flesh. But in an evil hour he fell; a leprosy overspread his body and his soul; the divine purity could not approach as before; and to his closed spiritual eyes, the holy Presence once visible, became shrouded in clouds and thick darkness. And as the spirit of man waxed more corrupt and he withdrew himself further from his heavenly source, so did his outward appearance, by a necessary law, whereby the outer and superficial conformeth itself, to the inner and hidden, become deformed and hideous. Hence is man now but a shadow, a skeleton of original beauty. The primeval perfection and present degeneracy of man, are the tradition of centuries.”

Holden paused; and Faith said, gently, “There is a way to regain the happiness we have lost.”

“There is a way,” said Holden, “through Him, the second Adam, the Lord from heaven. But mark: like him, must man be obedient. A faith without works is fruitless and naught. How many imagine they have faith, and have it not! Will they give their bodies to be burned? Will they sacrifice the dearest thing they have, if it is His will? Nay, but faith hath almost perished from the earth.”

Bernard observing Holden wandering from his subject, here inquired, “And by a reversal of the process by which it was lost, the outward beauty may be recovered?”

“Yes. By the restoration of internal beauty. It is the latter that shapeth and shineth through the former. But the eyes of men are blinded, and they cannot, because they will not, see the truth. The crust of inherited corruption interposeth betwixt them and the light. Hence, having eyes they see not, and ears, and they cannot hear. There is a law to control the spiritual, and a law for the material, and it is by observance of these two laws, that man’s first estate is to be regained. He must, therefore be temperate, and sober, and wise in the regulation of his appetites and passions, banishing those pernicious inventions, whereby he degradeth and engendereth disease in a glorious structure that ought to be the temple of the Holy Ghost, and must diligently cultivate all noble aspirations, weeding out selfishness and gross desires, loving his neighbor as himself, and the Lord his God with all his heart, which latter is the admiration and love of beauty, and truth and justice, and of whatever is excellent. Thus both outwardly and inwardly will gradually be transformed, the marred and defaced image of humanity into the glorious likeness of the Son of God.”

“That day so longed for and so glorious, is far distant I fear,” said Mr. Armstrong.

“Nay, but the signs of His coming are kindling in the Eastern sky,” exclaimed Holden, “and soon amid the hymns and hallelujahs of saints shall he establish His benign and resplendent empire. Then shall commence the upward career of the race, whose earthly goal is the state of primeval perfection; whose heavenly it hath not entered into the heart of man to conceive. Then in that bright Millennium, whose radiance streams through the advancing ages, shall man cast off the slough of ignorance and sin, and rise like the painted butterfly, on the wings of faith, into the serene air of truth.”

Our readers must not hold us responsible for the sentiments of Holden. They are his own, and no one’s else, and expressed in his own words, with all their wildness and incoherence. Opinions like these seem to have prevailed at all periods of the Christian era. They were entertained in the times of the Apostles, and are cherished now by a modern sect. Milton alludes to them in his treatise “Of Reformation in England” in language which for its stately eloquence, deserves to be transcribed to enrich this page. He speaks “of that day when Thou, the eternal and shortly-expected King, shalt open the clouds to judge the several kingdoms of the world, and distributing national honors and rewards to religious and just commonwealths, shalt put an end to all earthly tyrannies, proclaiming thy universal and mild monarchy through heaven and earth; when they undoubtedly, that by their labors, counsels, and prayers, have been earnest for the common good of religion, and their country, shall receive above the inferior orders of the blessed, the regal additions of principalities, legions, and thrones, into their glorious titles, and in super-eminence of beatific vision, progressing the dateless and irrevoluble circle of eternity, shall clasp inseparable hands with joy and bliss in over-measure for ever.”

His auditors never thought of reasoning with or contradicting the Enthusiast. They listened in silence, only when he paused, making some inquiry or suggestion, in order to induce him to develop his notions still further; and so in conversation of this kind passed the evening.

Upon the departure of Bernard, Holden was pressed to pass the night at his host’s, and accepted the invitation. The events of the day had proved to be too much for even his iron frame, and he was not unwilling to be relieved of the long walk to his hut. Before retiring, he listened reverently to a chapter from the Bible, read by Armstrong, and joined with him and Faith, in their customary devotions.