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MRS. MADISON'S DREAM

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Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Oct 2, 1879

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 54, No. 15.

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MRS. MADISON'S DREAM.

By Isadore Rogers

Perhaps Mrs. Madison was not so much to blame for the inveterate habit of fault-finding into which she had fallen. One's natural disposition must be taken into account, as well as the circumstances which tend to develop internal traits. She was several years beyond her teens at the time of her marriage, and during the three years of her wedded life, no children came to spread confusion and disorder where all was prim and proper, and her husband was trained to such habits of order and exactness that some of the uncharitable neighbors said he left this world to find a place where comfort was not entirely sacrificed to order and precision. After his death she had only herself to care for, and there was no reason why she should not have everything to her liking. But if the mother of a family did not have her garments as fashionably made and elaborately trimmed as did this worthy lady, she made no allowance for the deficiency, but at once began to criticise and find fault. For instance, when she entered the house of her neighbor, Mrs. White, and found that lady making a dress for her daughter, with which the young girl was highly pleased, she exclaimed: “Why did you not get a different shade, Mrs. White? This color was worn last year, and this overskirt is too short for the latest style.”
“This shade is very becoming to Louise,” said Mrs. White.
“The darker shade would have been just as much so, and a great deal more fashionable,” returned Mrs. Madison, intent on carrying her point.
“I thought it very pretty,” said the young lady, looking at it regretfully.
“So it is; but when you can have the latest style, of course it would be better,” said Mrs. Madison. “Is not that basque too long to suit Louise’s form?”
“Long basques are very much worn,” said the mother, uneasily.
“True; but the form must be taken into consideration. I am sure she would have looked better in a shorter one.” And after having made the girl discontented with what had previously given her so much pleasure, Mrs. Madison took her leave.
She met a little boy with a happy and contented look, and accosted him with, “Good morning, Johnny. You have a new suit of clothes, I believe.”
“Yes, ma’am,” answered the child, with a smile.
“Why didn’t your mother make the sleeves shorter?”
“I won’t wear it out this year; and she thought they looked very well now, and would do after I had grown some,” replied the child.
“I would have made it to fit properly now. Those sleeves look very slovenly.”
The smile faded from the child’s countenance, and he walked slowly onward.
And this habit of making people unhappy by fault-finding seemed to be a part of her nature. “Mrs. A. did not keep her house in such order as she ought;” and this, coming to the ears of the overworked woman who had so much to do that she was obliged to forego the pleasure which it would have given her to have had everything in tasteful order about her premises, caused her to burst into tears, and lament the unequal burden which she was compelled to bear.
One night Mrs. Madison dreamed that she had “Crossed the stream whose narrow tide The known and unknown worlds divide,” and stood upon the other side, looking around upon the strange and beautiful scenery. Suddenly she saw an angel approaching, as if to welcome her to the land of souls; but as he drew near, true to her nature, she asked, “Why do you wear those old-fashioned white wings? They are all out of style. The very first angel I ever heard of wore white wings, and I am sure that seal-brown trimmed with cardinal red would be much nicer.”
The angel looked at her with an expression of pity, and she continued: “Your wings should have been made long enough to trail slightly, and been tipped with some rich color, at least. I had expected to see everything in good taste here, after all the imperfections I have been harassed with during my life; but not even here do I find it.”
“Madam,” said the angel, “your own dress is not appropriate to this place.”
“Why not?” she asked. “I am sure that every fold and every gather has been carefully studied, and every part measured with the most conscientious exactness.”
“You have neglected to wear an important garment, and none can abide here without it,” replied the angel.
“And what is that, may I ask?”
“The mantle of charity,” replied the angel; “and you will turn to the left, where the portals will open at your coming, and enter the realms where it is not required.”
“The mantle is but little worn; indeed, it has been entirely cast aside by some of the most fashionable people; and I am surprised at finding the inhabitants of this realm so much behind the times. However, it may be better in the region to which I am assigned.”
She advanced in the direction indicated by the angel. The massive doors swung open, and she found herself in a country so new and strange that she was filled with astonishment. A creature having a seal-brown body and cardinal red wings came to meet her.
“Welcome, my dear madam,” he said, with a bow that shook the heavy black plumes upon his head. “Accept the thanks which I tender you in the name of our great master, for the services which you have rendered.”
“I am not aware of having served you in any capacity whatever,” replied the lady, coldly; for in spite of the fashionable colors which he wore, the creature was not at all prepossessing.
“O my dear madam, you underrate your abilities. The object for which we labor is to cause unhappiness in the world; and although the privilege of creating war and bloodshed has been denied you, you have done what you could, and caused discord and bitterness where all would have been harmony and happiness had it not been for you. There are places which dire disasters, such as famine and pestilence, overlook; and the work of sowing discord in pleasant places is very important, and attended with results scarcely inferior.”
“I disclaim all praise which you bestow upon me. I have never done this work,” exclaimed Mrs. Madison, gazing with increasing terror upon the disagreeable-looking visages of the beings with seal-brown bodies and cardinal red wings who began to gather around her.
“Did you not cause Mrs. White’s daughter to find fault with her mother after the poor woman had worked with aching head and weary fingers upon that dress? And did you not destroy the child’s happiness over his new suit, and make Mrs. Brown dissatisfied with the pattern of the new carpet her husband bought, to please her, by sacrificing a great many personal comforts, and tell Minnie Lee that the book of poems presented by her father was bound in old style, thus robbing the treasure of half its value? Tell me, if you can, my dear madam, when you have lost an opportunity of creating unpleasantness, or been guilty of bestowing happiness.”
“I have given a great many times for charitable purposes,” answered Mrs. Madison.
“We can easily overlook that,” quickly replied the strange being, “for giving publicly only serves to conceal your real nature, and whenever you bestowed alms upon a private individual, you did so with a manner which made it almost as hard to accept your gift as to do without it. You have never donned the real mantle of charity, and went among the sick and suffering with tender compassion and cheering sympathy, nor tried to reconcile the discontented with their lot, by directing attention to the bright side, nor driven despondency from their sinking souls with words of cheer and hope. Tell me, if you can, when you have been guilty of bestowing happiness upon any living being by an act of direct self-denial.”
Mrs. Madison tried in vain to recall an instance of this nature, but she had always considered it a duty to take care of number one.
“You have served us well,” continued the strange being; “and our great master has commissioned me to tender you a position second only to my own. You will rank above all the bright and shining beings which you see around you.”
Mrs. Madison glanced with a sensation of horror upon the brilliantly-clad creatures who trailed their flaming robes, and waved their glaring wings, and scowled with sullen envy.
“Mercy on us!” shrieked the terror-stricken woman. “Not another moment will I remain with such a set of vulgar, disgusting wretches! Old-fashioned angels are a thousand times better! I will return this instant!”
“Madam, you cannot retrace your steps. You found fault with the most perfect beings which God ever made, and were allowed to pass on to a more congenial realm. Not being satisfied here, you will pass on to another region; and should you find fault with that, you will be given another chance.”
Another ponderous door swung back, and Mrs. Madison saw another set of beings in garments with fashion so intensified as to be hideous and disgusting, with colors of flame, and heathenish ornaments, and with repulsive and scowling features, and discordant voices. A sound of fierce contention, with shrieks of baffled rage, fell upon her ear, and she drew back with a groan of horror; but suddenly recollecting that if she found fault with this region, she might be consigned to worse, she stood trembling upon its portal.
“Pass on,” commanded the being who had welcomed her to his domain; and with a shriek of terror Mrs. Madison awoke.
There was a change in her conduct after that, which people attributed to a real change of heart, and gave the new minister credit for having transformed a selfish and fault-finding woman into a sincere and consistent Christian whom the mantle of charity became exceedingly well. But Mrs. Madison kept her own counsel.—Isadore Rogers, in The Ohio Farmer.