CHAPTER XI. ON COUNTRY KINDNESS. Sketch of spring. The trees.-The birds.-The cattle.-The young colts. -Children.-Grey-haired age.-Kindness.-The Duke of Portland and his tenant. - Kindnesses and unkindnesses. -The rat-trap. Kind thoughts, feelings, intentions, words, and deeds.—A call on a country friend.-Kindness to those who need it is of double value. I WILL speak of country kindness; but first let me give you a sketch of spring, not drawn with the pen only, but with the eye and the heart. It was spring; the sun was bright, and creation seemed newly born, as though it had just burst into being. The young branches of the trees shot upwards towards the skies, seeking that heaven whose dews had watered them, and whose soft breezes had nurtured them, as if to read a silent and holy lesson to man. The earth appeared strewn with flowers. The children of nature rejoiced. Birds which had disappeared during the winter months, were now seen perched among the green foliage of the trees, or skimming the clear air alone, while those that had remained behind, seemed to welcome the new arrivals with a song of ecstasy. The cattle appeared to crop the fresh-sprung grass with a relish that only fresh spring grass could impart; and the young colts that had never seen a spring before, and were far too happy to eat, kicked up their heels, whisked their tails, and galloped round the pasture in their delight. Children, little children, who had been cooped up for months past, were now abroad in the arms of their nurses; while such as were a little older, were running about prattling of daisies and primroses, laying up in their infant minds scenes that would flash across their memory in after days, when childhood, and childhood's mirth, would be long gone by. It was a time for joyous and pure and holy thoughts, and for wishing to spend the rest of life with peace and joy in the country, revelling among the beauties of creation, and praising its Almighty Creator. Age, with his grey hairs, was pacing to and fro; and Sickness, with her sallow cheek, leaning on crutches, her tearful eye raised heavenward, grateful for the sunbeam that fell upon her, and for the balmy breeze that tasted like returning health. Spring was, indeed, abroad; the heavens were lit up with sunshine; the earth teemed with happiness; and everything that had breath seemed to praise the Lord. I hope you like my sketch: and now for country kindness. In towns and cities people are so hurried, and have such a world of things to do, that they seem hardly to have time to practise kindness: it is not so in the country. There kindness thrives like a tree, and grows, and buds, and blossoms, and bears fruit abundantly. I love to meet with kindness in common life. Your highflying deeds of generosity that happened a long way off, and a long while since, sound mighty fine in the ear, but they hardly come home to the heart. The caliphs of Bagdad, if what we read of them be true, flung about them their diamond rings, and their purses of sequins, as freely as if they had been pebble-stones, but these things do not speak to us like commoner kindnesses; they say not “ Go and do thou likewise!" The following account of a kindness that much pleased me, is related by a man of talent and integrity. 66 The Duke of Portland found that one of his tenants, a small farmer, was falling, year after year, into arrears of rent. The duke rode to the farm, saw that it was sadly deteriorating, and the man, who was really an industrious farmer, totally unable to manage it from poverty. In fact, all that was on the farm was not enough to pay the arrears. 'John,' said the duke, as the farmer came to meet him as he rode up to the house, 'I want to look over the farm a little.' As they went along, Really,' said he, everything is in a very bad case. This won't do. I see you are quite under it. All your stock and crops won't pay the arrear in rent. I will tell you what I must do: I must take the farm into my own hands: you shall look after it for me, and I will pay you your wages.' Of course there was no saying nay; the poor man bowed assent. Presently there came a reinforcement of stock; then loads of manure; at the proper time seed, and wood from the plantations for repairing gates and buildings. The duke rode over frequently. The man exerted himself, and seemed really quite relieved from a load of care by the change. "Things speedily assumed a new aspect. The crops and stock flourished: fences and out-buildings were put into good order. In two or three rent days, it was seen by the steward's book that the farm was making its way. The duke, on his next visit, said, 'Well, John, I think the farm goes very well now; we will change again; you shall be tenant once more. As you now have your head fairly above water, I hope you will be enabled to keep it there.' The duke rode off at his usual rapid rate. The man stood in astonishment; but a happy fellow he was when, on apply ing to the steward, he found that he was actually re-entered as tenant to the farm, just as it stood in its restored condition. I will venture to say, however, that the duke himself was the happier man of the two.” Now, believing (and I cannot but believe) this account to be true, it does me good to think of it. There are those who seem to think that none but great people can perform great actions; while others love to rail against those above them, as though every lord and every duke was of necessity a proud, parsimonious, flinty-hearted churl. These are mistakes that we ought not to fall into: there are bad and good, hard-hearted and kind, in all degrees of life; and we ought to give honour where honour is due, whether it be to the rich or the poor. This act of kindness on the part of the duke was performed with great discretion. Had he contented himself with simply lowering the farmer's rent, or forgiving him part of his debt, the man would, most likely, have struggled on a little longer, and have come to poverty at last. Could the kindnesses of mankind be written in one column, and the unkindnesses in another, the latter would no doubt make the longer catalogue. This ought not to be the case; for surely there is more enjoyment in calling forth a smile, than a frown; in binding up, than in bruising; and in gladdening another's heart, than in breaking another's head! This remark will apply to all, but especially to Christians. Christianity without kindness is Christianity in disguise. A gentle child in a coat of mail, armed with a spear, and an inoffensive lamb furnished with a covering of porcupine's quills, instead of a soft woolly fleece, would be as much in character as a Christian with a churlish spirit. To my mind, a waggon without wheels would go along just as pleasantly as a Christian without kindness. As shines the sun around on every hand, And gilds with golden beams the sea and land; And flings a blessing wheresoe'er it goes. I like to examine the thing that I value. The boy in the fable, who killed his goose to get the golden eggs all at once, was a greedy grasp-all for his pains; and he who cut open his drum to look for the sound was no better than a simpleton these carried matters too far. But still, I do like to examine the thing that I value, and to know of what it is composed; for, in many cases, brass looks so much like gold, and pewter so closely resembles silver, that unless we pay to them more than ordinary attention, one may very readily be mistaken for the other. It is just the same in regard to kindnesses. Words and deeds which appear unkind may be benevolence itself; and deeds and words that have the semblance of kindness may, in reality, be the bitterest cruelty. Reproof is unpleasant, and commendation is very agreeable; but it is kindness to reprove a fault, and great unkindness to commend it. It might appear rather unkind to dash from the hand of any one the cup that he was raising to his lips; but if, afterwards, it was explained that the contents of it were poison, unknown to him who was about to drink, the kindness of the act would be apparent. There are many kindnesses of this description. The other day I saw a country friend bait a rat-trap: oh, how carefully did he cater for the appetite of the long-tailed tribe! It was a "dainty dish" that he set before them; a tit-bit, to draw them from their holes, and to furnish them with a delicate repast. Any one not knowing the end for which this was done, might have taken it for a deed of kindness, whereas it was |