Father Brighthopes Part 9

"But you cannot make out a breakfast on our plain fare, without something to drink besides water."

The old man smiled serenely.

"Your fare cannot be too plain for me. I often breakfast luxuriously on a slice of brown bread and a couple of apples."

"Brown bread and apples!" exclaimed Mrs. Royden, in surprise. "Who ever heard of apples for breakfast?"

"I never feel so well as when I make them a large proportion of my food," replied the clergyman. "People commit a great error when they use fruits only as luxuries. They are our most simple, natural and healthful food."

"You have never worked on a farm, I see," observed Mr. Royden.

"I understand you,"--and the old man, perhaps to ill.u.s.trate his liberal views, ate a piece of fried bacon with evident relish. "Different natures and different conditions of men certainly demand different systems of diets. If a man has animal strength to support, let him use animal food. But meat is not the best stimulus to the brain. With regard to vegetables, my experience teaches that they are beautifully adapted to our habits of life. Let the man who digs beneath the soil consume the food he finds there. But I will pluck the grape or the peach as I walk, and, eating, find myself refreshed."

"That is a rather poetical thought," remarked Chester. "But I doubt if it be sound philosophy."

"Oh, I ask no one to accept any theory of my own," answered the old man, benignly. "If I talk reason, consider my words; if not,"--smiling significantly, with an expressive gesture,--"let the wind have them."

"But I think your ideas very interesting," said Sarah. "What do you think of bread?"

"It is the _staff of life_. The lower vegetable productions are suited to the grosser natures of men. Those brought forth in the sunlight are more suitable to finer organizations. I place grains as much higher than roots, on a philosophical scale, as the ear of corn is higher than the potato, in a literal sense. Therefore, as grain grows midway between vegetables and fruits, it appears to be wisely designed as the great staple of food. But the nearer heaven the more spiritual. If I am to compose a sermon, let me make a dinner of nuts that have ripened in the broad sunlight, of apples that grow on the highest boughs of the orchard, and of grapes that are found sweetest on the tops of the vines."

"Very beautiful in theory," said Chester.

"When you have studied the subject, perhaps you will find some grains of truth in the chaff," replied the clergyman, with a genial smile.

"In the first place," rejoined Chester, with the confidence of a man who has a powerful argument to advance, "speaking of nuts,--let us look at the chestnut. You will everywhere find that the tallest trees produce the poorest nuts."

"I grant it."

"Then how does your theory hold?"

Mr. Rensford answered the young man's triumphant look with a mild expression of countenance, which showed a spirit equally happy in teaching or in being taught.

"I think," said he, "your tall chestnut-tree is found in forests?"

"Yes, sir; and the spreading chestnut, or the second growth, that springs up and comes to maturity in cleared fields, is found standing alone."

"It strikes me, then, that the last is _cultivated_. You may expect better nuts from it than from the savage tree. And there is good reason why it should not be of such majestic stature. Its body has room to expand. It is not crowded in the selfish society of the woods; and, to put forth its fruits in the sunlight, it is not obliged to struggle above the heads of emulous companions."

"But chestnuts are very unhealthy," said Mrs. Royden, to the relief of Chester, who was at a loss how to reply.

"They should not be unhealthy. If we had not abused our digestive organs, and destroyed our teeth by injurious habits, we would suffer no inconvenience from a few handfuls of chestnuts. As it is, masticate them well, and use them as food,--and not as luxuries, after the gastric juices are exhausted by a hearty dinner,--and I doubt if they would do much harm."

VII.

CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE.

"Dear me!" cried Mrs. Royden, as the clergyman declined tasting the pie Hepsy brought on as a dessert, "you haven't eaten anything at all! You'd better try a small piece?"

The old man thanked her kindly, adding that he had eaten very heartily.

"I am afraid you will not be able to get through the forenoon," she replied.

"Nay, don't tempt me," he said playfully, as she insisted on the pie.

"My const.i.tution was never strong; and, with my sedentary habits, I should never have reached the age of seventy-two, if I had not early learned to control my appet.i.tes. It is better to go hungry from a loaded table, than run the risk of an indigestion."

"Are you _seventy-two_?" asked Mr. Royden, in a sad tone.

"The twelfth day of October next is my seventy-second birthday," replied the old man, cheerfully. "Don't you think I have lasted pretty well?"

"Is it possible that you are twenty-eight years older than I?" exclaimed the other.

"Do I not look as old?"

"When your countenance is in repose, perhaps you do; but when you talk,--why, you don't look over fifty-five, if you do that."

"I have observed it," said Sarah. "When you speak your soul shines through your face."

"And the soul is always young. G.o.d be praised for that!" replied Mr.

Rensford, with a happy smile on his lips, and a tear of thankfulness in his eye. "G.o.d be praised for that!"

"But the souls of most men begin to wither the day they enter the world," remarked Chester, bitterly. "Perhaps, in your sphere of action, you have avoided the cares of life,--the turmoil and jar of the noisy, selfish world."

"Heaven has been merciful to me," said the old man, softly. "Yet my years have been years of labor; and of sorrow I have seen no little.

Persecution has not always kept aloof from my door."

"Oh, few men have had so much to go through!" spoke up Mr. Royden, in a tone of sympathy. "The wonder is, how you have kept your brow so free from wrinkles, and your spirit so clear from clouds."

"When the frosts have stolen upon me, when the cold winds have blown,"

replied Mr. Rensford, in a tone so touching that it was felt by every one present, "I have prayed Heaven to keep the leaves of my heart green, and the flowers of my soul fresh and fragrant. The sunlight of love was showered upon me in return. I managed to forget my petty trials, in working for my poor, unhappy brethren. My wife went to heaven before me; my child followed her, and I was left at one time all alone, it seemed.

But something within me said, 'They whom thou hast loved are in bliss; repine not therefore, but do thy work here with a cheerful spirit, and be thankful for all G.o.d's mercies.'"

"I understand now how you got the familiar name I have heard you called by," said Mr. Royden, with emotion.

"Yes,"--and the old man's fine countenance glowed with grat.i.tude,--"it has pleased my friends to give me an appellation which is the only thing in the world I am proud of,--_Father Brighthopes_. Is it possible," he added, with tears in his eyes, "that I have deserved such a t.i.tle? Has my work been done so cheerfully, has my faith been so manifest in my life, that men have crowned me with this comforting a.s.surance that my prayers for grace have been answered?"

"Then you would be pleased if we called you by this name?"

"You will make me happy by giving me the honorable t.i.tle. No other, in the power of kings to bestow, could tempt me to part with it. As long as you find me sincere in my faith and conduct, call me _Father Brighthopes_. When I turn to the dark side of life, and waste my breath in complaining of the clouds, instead of rejoicing in the sunshine, then disgrace me by taking away my t.i.tle."

"I wish more of us had your disposition," said Mr. Royden, with a sad shake of the head.

"There is no disposition so easy, and which goes so smoothly through the world," replied the old man, smiling.

Mr. Royden felt the force of the remark, but, being a man of exceedingly fine nerves, he did not think it would be possible for him to break up his habit of fretfulness, in the midst of all the annoyances which strewed his daily path with thorns. He said as much to his aged friend.