Love stories; Orphans -- Fiction; Southern States -- Fiction; Women -- Fiction
"You think that I ought to be very happy and contented, and useful
in the sphere in which I move; and regard me, I know, as a weak
hypochondriac. Beulah, physicians told me, long ago, that I lived
upon the very brink of the grave; that I might die at any moment,
without warning. My grandmother and one of my uncles died suddenly
with this disease of the heart, and the shadow of death seems
continually around me; it will not be dispelled--it haunts me
forever. 'Boast not thyself of to-morrow,' said the preacher; but I
cannot even boast of to-day, or this hour. The world knows nothing
of this; it has been carefully concealed by my parents; but I know
it! and, Beulah, I feel as did that miserable, doomed prisoner of
Poe's 'Pit and Pendulum,' who saw the pendulum, slowly but surely,
sweeping down upon him. My life has been a great unfulfilled
promise. With what are generally considered elements of happiness in
my home, I have always been solitary and unsatisfied. Conscious of
my feeble tenure on life, I early set out to anchor myself in a calm
faith which would secure me a happy lot in eternity. My nature was
strongly religious, and I longed to find hope and consolation in
some of our churches. My parents always had a pew in the fashionable
church in this city. You need not smile--I speak advisedly when I
say 'fashionable' church; for, assuredly, fashion has crept into
religion also, nowadays. From my childhood I was regularly dressed
and taken to church; but I soon began to question the sincerity of
the pastor and the consistency of the members. Sunday after Sunday I
saw them in their pews, and week after week listened to their
gossiping, slanderous chit-chat. Prominent members busied themselves
about charitable associations, and headed subscription lists, and
all the while set examples of frivolity, heartlessness, and what is
softly termed 'fashionable excesses,' which shocked my ideas of
Christian propriety and disgusted me with the mockery their lives
presented. I watched the minister in his social relations, and,
instead of reverencing him as a meek and holy man of God, I could
not forbear looking with utter contempt upon his pompous, self-
sufficient demeanor toward the mass of his flock; while to the most
opulent and influential members he bowed down, with a servile,
fawning sycophancy absolutely disgusting. I attended various
churches, listening to sermons, and watching the conduct of the
prominent professing Christians of each. Many gave most liberally to
so-called religious causes and institutions, and made amends by
heavily draining the purses of widows and orphans. Some affected an
ascetical simplicity of dress, and yet hugged their purses where
their Bibles should have been. It was all Mammon worship; some
grossly palpable, some adroitly cloaked under solemn faces and
severe observance of the outward ceremonials. The clergy, as a
class, I found strangely unlike what I had expected. Instead of
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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