The Sun.
London, England, 1865-05-08 00:00:00

ITERATUE,E.

TIM CURATE'S TRIALS

The large donation he had given to the school had been
received with anything rather than gratitude ; they thought
if ho had so much money to give away, it would have been
much better bestowed in relieving temporal want. Where
there is actual bodily need people cannot be expected to
value much any means offered to them for the improve-
ment of the mind. Even those parents who never thought
of sending their children to Sadborough now stood up for
the Sadborough school, saying it was quitenearenough for
them, they did not want any other. So it was with every-
thing.

Ile was far too strict in his views for the great number
—far too liberal minded for many more. Ho was sharing
the fate of all who attempt reform. Although those who
knew him personally could• not help feeling real attach-
ment towards him, yet he was perfectly aware that all his
plans and endeavours for the improvement of the place in
any way were regarded with doubt and mistrust. Still
for all this he was not in the smallest degree angry—not
the least in any way put out. It would have been impos-
sible for such a feeling to have arisen in his heart. He
believed, on strong conviction, that he was acting right,
and ho was not to be turned from his purpose by a cold
look or a discouraging word. He was not a man who con-
sidered he was made a martyr of by such things, neither
was he the least inclined to make a martyr of himself with-
out cause. It was not, however, by any means because
he was particularly mild or even tempered that he felt
no annoyance. There was simply no room for such a
feeling. _ _

His thoughts going on from the woman who had de-
manded another shilling took in the whole of Sadbrooke,
the sad temporal want, the Still more melancholy spiritual
'need, the sheep who would not come into the fold, the
people struggling and striving so intently one against
another for the bread that perisheth, while they were
perishing, unknowing of their destitution, for want of that
which was to bo had without money and without price—
the bread that endureth unto everlasting life.
But his thoughts did not rest even there ; going on
from Sadbrooke, they went on, taking in many other vil-
lages like it, the many other towns like.Sa.dborough—the
sin and the sorrow, the suffering and the evil all around.
Nor was this hero alone. England, with all this, was
better off than other lands. The cry was going up from
the whole earth ; still worse did it arise from heathen lands,
homes of darkness and of the shadow of death. And so
thinking, as far as could bo heard by mortal ears, there
sounded to him then the ono wail that is ever going up to
Heaven, the cry of the whole creation groaning in suffer-
ing together. . .
Yet even for all this sorrow and suffering there was the
ono remedy—the ono way of deliverance—there was mercy
waiting for all who would seek it ; the suffering was not
to endure for ever—it was the trial time now, the bright
light might ever be seen in the cloud. But how grievous,
how fearful to think of the multitudes who preferred dark-
ness to light, who chose sin rather than holiness ; and the
few, the very few, struggling for the good! To see
the fields laying -white together for harvest, and to
know how few labourers were entered into the harvest !_

. ---- -
With thoughts attuned to this height, could there be
any room for such an idea as self-annoyance ? The one
feeling that filled his mind, that was deeply fixed in
his heart, was that of pity—pity for the perishing souls,
pity for those who, thirsting and dying all around,
would yet not drink of the water of life, not accept that
message of love and mercy which was for him to deliver,
that message which it seemed 130 strange to him they

It would be well if histories like that of Jem
Wilson could he disseminated far and near. How
many children around us are being trained up in
Sin, the wages of which is Death, the heart
shudders to calculate. There is work, indeed,
for many an earnest heart and active hand, as
the Curate of Sadbrooke forcibly recognised.
As possessing that earnestness of purpose and the
will and the ability to exert it in a good cause, we
congratulate the author of " The Curate of Sad-
brooke" on his book, even though it find no great
favour with the out-and-out novel-reader.

Violet Osborne. A Novel. By Lady Emily Pon-
sonby, author of " The Discipline of Life."

Three Vols. Hurst and Blackett.

" Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, is our destined
aim or way," sings Longfellow in one of his most
charming poems : discipline being, in fact, the
main object of life, although few are willing
to recognise it as such. - Among those few
is the authoress of " Violet Osborne," who, in
a very successful book published some years
back very ' happily enforced the lesson. Violet
Osborne, in a different guise, attests the same truth.
Very light and pleasant are the opening pages of
the tale. The first chapter begins with a festivity,
and Violet, the heroine, is charming as youth,
beauty, wealth, and generosity can make her. The
character of Violet is an original one for a novel
heroine; her faults are as visible as her virtues.
She is a spoilt child, allowed to have her own way
in all things by her fond admiring parents. With
a lavish hand she scatters gifts around, delighting
in generosity, and proud of patronising. Beautiful
as her character appears in prosperity, the touch of
undisciplined. Violet's con-
sorrowproves her utterly
duct, when her father's ruin becomes public, is most
unheroic and unheroinelike,we had almost said, it is
most unwomanly, but very truthfully does her bio-
grapher exclaim, as if deprecating our condemna-
tion :

Let none harshly judge her. There are many unknown
lands on earth, and those of mental trial are as unsounded
by the inexperienced as the pathless sea, or the untrodden
desert. We may wonder at the faltering steps of others,
as they climb some hill of difficulty, or wade through some
slough of despond ; but until we have walked in the same
path, we cannot tell that ours would be stronger. Violet
had been shielded not only from every breath of trial, but
oven from the fancy of such a breath. A too fond love
and cherishing care had averted not from her eyes only,
but her thoughts, every picture of the instability of mortal
things. She had heard of want and poverty coming to
others suddenly like an armed man ; but that there were
dangers of such mutability in her lot had been hidden from
her eyes. As men of this generation had heard of wars
and rumours of wars, but knew not till war in its horror
was amongst them what was the meaning of the word,
so Violet had hoard of the changes of mortal life, but
thought not of them till they came upon her.
How the discipline of life purges the dross from the
pure gold in Violet Osborne's instance,• we must
refer our readers to the work itself to learn. Some
mention we must bestow upon the hero.. Ile is,
however, one accustomed to neglect. Lady Emily
Ponsonby has selected as the hero for her undis-
ciplined Violet, a singularly unattractive personage
—a bashful man, a victim of mauvaise honte, and
nevous trepidation ; one ready to shrink from ob-
servation, ani yet feel indignant at neglect; but
here is his portrait—