There are two classes that are specially1 liable to disease,--those who live grossly, and whose lives are spent in scenes of excitement, and those who are finely organized, so delicately constituted, that their nerves vibrate to every jar, not only of the physical but of the moral atmosphere.
There are persons whose routine of daily life is seldom if ever disturbed; whose minds are at ease on material questions. Having enough, and to spare, they seek their pleasure from day to day, with scarcely an interruption of their established course. Such may well be free from the ills of the flesh, and being so, they complacently2 attack the less fortunate, those whose lives are tumultuous and heavily-laden with their own and other's needs; applying to them such remarks as, "They might live more regular." "They work too much." "They do not work enough." "They go about too much." "They do do not go about enough;" and having delivered their opinions, these self-satisfied mortals settle themselves down in their comforts, thanking God they are not as other men.
There are lives that are shaken with convulsions; circumstances over which no mortal has control, surge their wild, tempest-waves over them, and all their wishes are of no avail; they must take what is borne to them. Raying out life every moment; pressed on every side, with every faculty3 strained to its greatest tension, is it a matter of wonder that they become weak, that they sicken and suffer?
Sickness is not a sin, neither is its presence derogatory to our nature. It implies a susceptibility to the inharmonies of life, and is complimentary4 than otherwise to our organization. They are not to be envied who have never known an hour of pain and languor5, for they come not under the discipline and instruction of one of life's great teachers. They are apt to be harsh, and cold, and unfeeling towards their fellows; apt to be boastful of their own strength, and regardless of the delicate sensibilities of others. While we should studiously endeavor to live in harmony with the laws of our being, it is nevertheless true that with all the caution we may exercise, we cannot avoid, if we are spiritually true, the jarring of the inharmonies of this world, and from this as much if not more than from any other cause, come the ills and pains of our earthly life.
These disturbances6 of the spirit produce to those of fine natures a similar disturbance7 of their physical condition; then disease follows and makes sad havoc8 with the temple of the soul.
On a subject so intricate as the cause of disease, only a few hints can here be given.
People become sickly from living too long together; from pursuing continuously one branch of study or labor9; from meeting too often with one class of minds; from living on one kind of food, or on food cooked by one person; besides, there are countless10 other causes; agitations11 of mind, overtasked and irregular lives are constantly generating impure12 magnetisms, with which the whole atmosphere is tainted13, and which those who are susceptible14 are forced to absorb.
As there are many causes of disease, there must be many ways of cure. No one system can regulate the disturbances of the complex machinery15 of the human frame.
Dr. Franklin subjected himself to what was denominated the air bath, as a remedial agent. Others believed in the direct action of the sun, placing themselves beneath glass cupolas to receive it; while still later we have the water-cure, which is thought by many to heal all diseases. These are right in combination, but no one will cure alone.
Does the strong man, with steady nerves, compact muscle, and perfect arterial circulation, need the same remedy when ill, as a less vigorous person, one whose hourly suffering is from a diseased nervous organization?
One member of a family argues that because he can bathe in ice water, another, with more feeble circulation, can do the same, and realize the same results. One man will take no medicine, another swallow scarcely anything else, and thus we find extremes following each other.
One ideaism in this direction is as much to be avoided as in any other. The man of good sense says, "I will take whatever is required to restore the balance of my system."
Of mental disorders16 we know little. Asylums17 for their treatment have multiplied in our midst, but few of the thousands of educated physicians are qualified18 to minister to a mind diseased. Past modes will not do for to-day. Our conditions are not the same. Our lives are faster, our needs greater. Our grand-parents lived in the age of muscle; we exist in the nerve period, and have new demands, both in our mental and physical structure.
And new light will come in answer to the demand. The eye of clairvoyance19 is already penetrating20 beyond science, and traversing the world of causes.
Eagerly Florence broke the seal of her first letter from Hugh. He had arrived safely, and wafted21 over the sea his own and Dawn's love and remembrance.
"Dawn desires to go to Germany, first," he wrote, "and as I have business with parties in Berlin, I shall gratify her wish. I thought, all along, how much I wished you were with us, but since writing I feel different. I need you at home to express myself to, when I am overflowing22 with thought. If you were at my side, when I am seeing all these things, we should both have the feast together, and be done. Now, in rehearsing it to you, I enjoy it over again. Very much we shall have to talk about, when we meet again. How I would like to transmit to your mind the vivid impressions of my own, when I first put my foot on the soil of England; but such things are not possible, and sometime I hope you will be here yourself, and feel the thrill of the old world under your feet."
This portion of the long and interesting letter so refreshed her, that Miss Evans, when she came in after tea, guessed at once the cause of the sparkling eye that greeted her.
"Letters are wonderful tonics," said Mr. Temple, laughingly, as he glanced toward Florence.
"That depends from whom they come," she answered, and repented23 of it as soon as said. She looked up after a while, but there was no shadow on his face. She saw that he was sharing her joy, and then she knew that not a ripple24 of doubt would ever disturb their smoothly25 flowing life.
Miss Evans left at an early hour, and reaching her home, wrote till nearly midnight. Her nature was one that was most elastic26 at night; her brilliancy seemed to come with the stars.
Page after page fell from her desk to the floor; thought followed thought, till the mortal light seemed to give place to the divine. At length the theme grew so mighty27, and words seemed so feeble to portray28 it, that she laid down the pen and wept,--wept not tears of exhaustion29, but of joy at the soul's prospective30. Sublime32 was the scene before her vision; enrapturing33 the prospect31 opening before earth's pilgrims, and she felt truly thankful that she was privileged to point out the way to those whose faith was weak, and who walked tremblingly along the road.
She gathered her pages, laid them in order, and then wrote the following in her journal:
"Night, beautiful night; dark below but brilliant above. I am not alone. These stars, some of them marking my destiny, know well my joys and my griefs. They are shining on me now. The waters are darkest nearest the shore, and perchance I am near some haven34 of rest. I have been tossed for many a year, yet, cease my heart to mourn, for my joys have been great. The world looks on me, and calls me strong. Heaven knows how weak I am, for this heart has had its sorrows, and these eyes have wept bitter tears. The warm current of my love has not departed; it has turned to crystals around my heart, cold, but pure and sparkling. There is a voice that can melt them, as the sun dissolves the frost.-I turn a leaf. This shall not record so much of self, or be so tinged35 with my own heart's pulsations,--this page now fair and spotless.
"I thought, a month ago, this feeling would never come again. I hold my secret safe; why will my nerves keep trembling so, when down, far down in my soul, I feel so strong?
"To-night I must put around my heart a girdle of strong purpose, and bid these useless thoughts be gone. I must not pulsate37 so intensely with feeling. My fate is to stand still and weave my thoughts into garlands for others. I must lay a heavy mantle38 on my breast, and wrap fold after fold upon my heart, that its beating may not be heard. Why have we hearts? Heads are better, and guide us to safer ports.
"'T is past the midnight hour. What scratches of the pen I have put upon this virgin39 page. So does time mark us o'er and o'er. We must carry the marks of his hand to the shore of the great hereafter. Beyond, we shall drink from whatever fount will best suffice us. Here, we must take the cup as 't is passed to us, bitter or sweet-'t is not ours to choose. These boundaries of self are good. Where should we roam if left to our inclinations40? Let me trust and wait God's own time and way."
"Dear Florence," wrote Dawn, some months after they had been away, "I have seen gay, smiling France, and beautiful Italy with its wealth of sunlight, and its treasures of art. I have seen classic Greece,--of which we have talked so many hours,--and its fairy islands nestling in the blue Archipelago,--isles41 where Sappho sang. I have been among the Alps, and have seen the sunset touch with its last gleam, the eternal waste of snow; but more than all, I love dear Germany, the land of music and flowers, scholarship and mystic legends.
"Now, my good friend and teacher, how shall I describe to you my state amid all this new life? At first I felt as though my former existence had been one long sleep, or as I suppose the mineral kingdom might feel in passing to the vegetable order, as some one has expressed it.
"It was an awakening42 that thrilled my being with intensest delight; a fullness which left nothing to hope for. A new revelation of life has arisen within me, as sudden and grand as the appearing of those mysterious isles which are upheaved in a single night from the depths of the ocean.
"A deeper pulsation36 than I have ever known, now stirs my blood. I feel the claims of humanity calling me to labor. My purpose is strong; I shall return with this thrill in my heart, and become one of God's willing instruments. That He will own me, I feel in every heart-beat. My mission is to erring43 women, and you, my friend, will smile, I know, on my purpose.
"The other night I dreamed that a beautiful being stood by my side, while a light, such as I have never seen on earth, shone about her.
"'Tell me,' I said, 'why this heavenly halo is around you? and if I, too, may become like you?'
"'Listen.' She answered. 'Years ago, I lived on earth and passed through much suffering. I seemed to be placed in a close, high building, into which all the light that could enter came from above. I could only look up, with no power to turn to the right or left. After being years in this state, the rays coming thus directly from above, cleansed44 my soul, whitened my garment, and made it spotless. This light became a part of myself; it followed me to the other world, and now, when I approach earth, it enables me to see all the errors and virtues45 of humanity. Wouldst thou be willing to become a light by which pilgrims can see the way to Heaven?'
"'I would. My only desire is to do good,' I replied.
"'It is easy to desire this,' she remarked, sadly.
"'But wouldst thou be willing to be almost annihilated46, were it by that only you might become a lamp to the pilgrim's feet?'
"I looked into my heart, and think I spoke47 truthfully, when I answered that I would.
"'Then thou art accepted,' the angel said. 'It shall not be literal annihilation, although akin48 to it, for all your earthly desires must be swept away; all ambition, fame, learning, friends, must be sacrificed upon this altar. The light you will bear is fed alone from heavenly sources. Think again, child, if all these things can be as naught49.'
"I searched my soul once more. One answer, one word broke from my lips,--'Amen.'
"'T is well,' the angel visitant said; 'thy being shall be turned to light.'
"I awoke. The morning sun shone in my windows, and laid in golden bars upon my bed. I thought long of the vision of the night, and then sat down to pen it to you. To me it is significant. Write and tell me if it seems but a dream to you. I should like to be permitted to glorify50 my name, and be the 'Dawn' of light to some of earth's weary pilgrims."
收听单词发音 |
1
specially
|
|
| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
complacently
|
|
| adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
faculty
|
|
| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
complimentary
|
|
| adj.赠送的，免费的，赞美的，恭维的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
languor
|
|
| n.无精力，倦怠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
disturbances
|
|
| n.骚乱( disturbance的名词复数 )；打扰；困扰；障碍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
disturbance
|
|
| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
havoc
|
|
| n.大破坏，浩劫，大混乱，大杂乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
labor
|
|
| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
countless
|
|
| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
agitations
|
|
| （液体等的）摇动( agitation的名词复数 )； 鼓动； 激烈争论； （情绪等的）纷乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
impure
|
|
| adj.不纯净的，不洁的；不道德的，下流的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
tainted
|
|
| adj.腐坏的；污染的；沾污的；感染的v.使变质( taint的过去式和过去分词 )；使污染；败坏；被污染，腐坏，败坏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
susceptible
|
|
| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
machinery
|
|
| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
disorders
|
|
| n.混乱( disorder的名词复数 )；凌乱；骚乱；（身心、机能）失调 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
asylums
|
|
| n.避难所( asylum的名词复数 )；庇护；政治避难；精神病院 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
qualified
|
|
| adj.合格的，有资格的，胜任的，有限制的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
clairvoyance
|
|
| n.超人的洞察力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
penetrating
|
|
| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
wafted
|
|
| v.吹送，飘送，（使）浮动( waft的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
overflowing
|
|
| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
repented
|
|
| 对（自己的所为）感到懊悔或忏悔( repent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
ripple
|
|
| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
smoothly
|
|
| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
elastic
|
|
| n.橡皮圈，松紧带；adj.有弹性的；灵活的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
mighty
|
|
| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
portray
|
|
| v.描写，描述；画(人物、景象等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
exhaustion
|
|
| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
prospective
|
|
| adj.预期的，未来的，前瞻性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
prospect
|
|
| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
sublime
|
|
| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
enrapturing
|
|
| v.使狂喜( enrapture的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
34
haven
|
|
| n.安全的地方，避难所，庇护所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
tinged
|
|
| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
pulsation
|
|
| n.脉搏，悸动，脉动；搏动性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
pulsate
|
|
| v.有规律的跳动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
mantle
|
|
| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
virgin
|
|
| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
inclinations
|
|
| 倾向( inclination的名词复数 )； 倾斜； 爱好； 斜坡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
isles
|
|
| 岛( isle的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
awakening
|
|
| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
erring
|
|
| 做错事的，错误的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
cleansed
|
|
| 弄干净，清洗( cleanse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
virtues
|
|
| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
annihilated
|
|
| v.（彻底）消灭( annihilate的过去式和过去分词 )；使无效；废止；彻底击溃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
akin
|
|
| adj.同族的，类似的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
naught
|
|
| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
glorify
|
|
| vt.颂扬，赞美，使增光，美化 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |