T
HERE never was a greater contrast than that presented by the two sisters in their mode of government. Entering the school-room of each, you could not detect the least difference in the order of the scholars, but while the result appeared the same, the methods were very different.
Ruth said "silence" or "looked silence," as the children expressed it, and there was silence. She spake and it was done, for the children well knew that she would have no disobedience. She was never unkind, and she loved children, though she seldom showed them her love; so if you had askedher scholars if they loved their teacher, they probably would have said they thought her nice and kind, for she did not whip, and she tied up their cut fingers.
It did not look dignified, some people thought, and they were sure Miss Agnes had no control over her scholars, as they saw her surrounded by them every day on her way to and from school. It was such an honor to carry her lunch basket, such delight to be first to meet her and have a place at her side. O, how they loved her! "She was the very nicest teacher that ever lived." And many even resolved not to study too hard for fear they should be promoted and have to leave her. Then when the time came for them to leave, such tears were shed at parting, that Agnes determined not to allow herself to be so loved in the future, and succeeded for a day or two; but it was strange, she did not know how it came, there was always the same ending.
Ruth assured her she would get over all that in time; but love was as necessary to Agnes as sunshine is to flowers, and among these little ones the pent up fountain found an outlet.
Ruth kept her love away, deep hidden from sight, when it became so intense that it was almost painful; in the other nature it kept bubbling up and running over whenever it found a heart that would receive it.
Agnes delighted in teaching, but Ruth, while just as faithful, taught because it was the best thing she could do, rather than from choice. But the duty was irksome, and often she longed to throw the book from her and give the scholars their dismissal. When such feelings possessed her, she "did penance," as she said, by giving special attention to the lessons, "for it would not do to have the children suffer from her whims."
One day there came to her school a littledeformed boy, about eight years old. He had been brought there by one of the scholars, and when Ruth entered the school-room she did not notice him, but proceeded with the opening exercises. She had taught the children to repeat with her alternate verses of Scripture, and this morning selected the twenty-third Psalm. After she had repeated the first verse, the scholars took up the second. But there was one voice, clear and distinct, above all the others. Glancing round, she saw a pale face, whose large, earnest eyes, bent full upon her, touched her strangely. Slightly averting her head, she went on where the children left off, but still there was the fixed look. It was not a stare or look of curiosity, such as a new scholar might show, but penetrating as though the child had passed through deep experiences, maturing the intellect while the body was dwarfed and feeble. At the close of the exercises,a little girl taking him by the hand, led him up to the desk, and introduced him as a new scholar.
"What is his name?" inquired Ruth.
"I'll tell her; mother said I should be a man and speak out. My name is Philip Driscoe," and here the thin tiny hand was slipped in Ruth's. How very thin and white it was, like a baby's hand. As it lay for a moment in Ruth's the fingers closed over it, and stooping down she kissed the child. "I like you, you are good, like mother," and drawing closer he laid his other hand over hers by way of caress.
A sudden impulse seized her to take him in her arms, but the children were there, looking on understandingly. Holding both hands she bent smilingly down, but in an instant her eyes were full of tears. She was thinking of Guy. What if he had been thus afflicted? A thrill of gladness followed thepain occasioned by the thought, and collecting herself she took the child over to a seat in the middle of the room, promising him a book in a little while.
"And a slate and pencil to make pictures?"
"Yes, can you draw pictures?"
"O, elegant ones; mother says I'll make real ones when I am a man, if I don't die."
Ruth could not tell what to make of herself that day, or for many days after, she was so drawn toward that little face. "Now if it had been Agnes, it would have been quite natural."
But the truth was, wherever there was suffering or weakness of any kind, her heart threw off its casing, and she felt that she could do anything to shield or comfort. When the call came for strength or sympathy, she could give it unhesitatingly, but when there was only ordinary occasion, she made no response.
A
T the beginning of the year, Agnes had resolved not to let a day pass without having benefitted some one. "It may only be perhaps by looking pleasantly, or speaking tenderly, yet if done in the right spirit, the Lord will accept it and make it result in some good," she argued. And in the spirit of this mission she started for school one morning.
"What a wonderful thing it is to know that while there are millions of people on the earth, there is something for each one to do, that no one else can do. A work the Lord has laid out for each one of us," wereher thoughts as she walked. But another thought followed: "How do you know your own work? you may be doing the wrong thing after all."
This was not the first time such a suggestion had been made. Once it troubled and bewildered her, but now her mind was clear on that point.
"For," she reasoned, "my work must be to do everything that comes in my way, as well as I can, without waiting for special calls. And if I do this faithfully, and the Lord sees that I can do a different work, he will turn my mind in the direction of it, and bring it near to me."
Her reflections were disturbed by the loud, eager voices of several of her scholars, who announced in one breath, "O, Miss Agnes, you ought to have seen Martha Nelson's father. He had his leg cut off, and they took him on a settee to the hospital, and Martha's mother is nearly crazy."
"How was it?" inquired Agnes, turning from one to another of the eager, frightened faces.
"Why, he drives a dray, you know, and he fell off when the horse was going fast, and the dray ran over him. Everybody says he was drunk."
"Hush, hush, we must never speak of another girl's father, as we would not like to have our own spoken of. Poor Martha, she will need to-day something that each of us can give her. What is it?"
"Pity," said one of the girls, who by look and voice showed that her heart was already touched.
"Is that all?"
"And love," was the reply.
"Yes, the dear Lord wants us all to do something for Him to-day, and as we cannot do great, hard things, He wants us to love and be sorry for Martha. And if we lovepeople, we will do all the kind things we can for them; don't you think so, especially when they are in distress. And when we say our prayers, we must not forget to ask our Heavenly Father to love and care for Martha, now that her father is away from her, and may perhaps never get well."
When the lessons were over and school dismissed, Agnes hastened to the home of poor Martha. It was quite a distance from her own home, being at the other end of the town, and this was prayer-meeting night. But her day's work could not be complete until she had sympathized with these suffering hearts.
"Here it is, teacher," exclaimed the children who had offered to show her the way, "The house with the shutters shut tight."
Knocking, and then trying the door which she found unfastened, she entered the darkened room, having told the children it wouldnot be best for them to go in on that day. A sad disappointment, for they had meant to kiss Martha and tell her they were sorry, and hear all about the accident, although some of them had witnessed it.
Passing into the back room, Agnes found Mrs. Nelson and her children surrounded by a half dozen neighbors, in the midst of a discussion as to the position of the poor man when he fell. The one who had the floor at that moment was a tall, vigorous looking woman, who evidently had battled hard to occupy her present position. She had gone as far as: "'Says I to my man, there goes Bill Nelson;' and says he to me, 'Yes, there's no fear of his old woman letting him over-sleep himself; she's too smart for that'; when, all at once I seen him fall with his head to the horses' hind feet and——" here the entrance of Agnes, whose knock had not been heard, caused the speaker to subside,and a general movement of chairs and stools to take place.
"O, it's teacher, mother," said Martha, springing to meet her, light coming into her heavy, swollen eyes.
"And how do you do, ma'am; it's kind of you to come. And it's a sorry day this has been."
By this time chairs had been backed until they could go no farther, aprons smoothed, and the sleeves of the tall orator pulled down. Then there was silence, Agnes having taken one of the three chairs offered her.
"Yes, Mrs. Nelson, this is a sad occurrence. You have need of a great deal of sympathy, and I am sure you will have it." As Agnes looked round the room, and saw the various expressions of countenance at this remark, they appeared so ludicrous that under any other circumstances it would have been hard to control herself. As if encouragedby her notice, the tongues were again set in motion, and to her horror she was having all the details of the accident.
Martha had drawn her stool beside her teacher, who now took the opportunity of whispering comfort, and telling her how much her school-mates loved her and sympathized with her.
"I knew you would come when school was out, but it seemed so long. Did anybody have to be kept in?"
"No, the scholars were all quiet and attentive to-day; they were thinking of their little school-mate."
At these words, meant to comfort and reassure, the child laid her head on her lap and broke into loud sobs. Agnes thought she had done harm rather than good, and the tears sprang to her own eyes. Placing her arm round the child, she drew the bowed head up and let it rest on her.
"Poor thing," whispered the neighbors, "she takes it hard."
With a great effort Martha looked up into her teacher's face and said: "I wasn't thinking about father then."
Not knowing but what the child might have some trouble that she could relieve, Agnes whispered: "What were you thinking of? Don't fear to tell me; perhaps I can help you."
"O, teacher," and there came a great sigh, "you help me all the time. Nobody ever was like you, and it was because you were so kind I had to cry."
There were other wet cheeks than Martha's then, and Agnes was already repaid for her long walk. With a few more kind words addressed to Mrs. Nelson, she rose to go, and Mrs. Nelson followed her into the other room.
"How can you manage without your husband?Had you anything but his wages?" she inquired, feeling that sympathy at this time might perhaps require a stronger expression than words.
"That is just what I've been thinking of, Miss, if I could get time to think. They are well meaning, you see," pointing toward the other room, "but they have no considerateness. It's not for me to sit down and be grieving over what can't be mended, but to be looking round for a way to bring bread into the house. For as you asked me, Miss, I'll just tell you. We haven't even had all his earnings; if we had, this wouldn't have happened to him. But I'll not hear a word said against him there," with another glance toward the back room. "I'll try, if God spares me, to keep starvation out, and maybe when he is lying there, something good may come into his mind."
"If you could only spare Martha to liveout at service for a while, she might help you. At any rate you would have one less to feed," Agnes ventured to remark.
"That is just what came into my head this afternoon, Miss. The one next to Martha is old enough to take care of the rest when I am out, and if you could hear of a nice place where they wouldn't be too hard on her, I'd be a thousand times obliged to you, if you'd speak a word for her. She sets great store by you, and a word from youas herteacher, would do more good than ifI'dtalk for a week."
Agnes promised to do what she could, and then timidly, but earnestly, reminded her of the sure help in the time of trouble, the one whose friendship and love are equal to all our demands. By the time she reached home, Ruth was becoming anxious, for when Agnes intended going anywhere after school, she always announced it before leaving in the morning.
Knowing that her sister would probably be uneasy, and that she should have little time to prepare for church, she almost ran home; so that when she entered breathless, her face a deep crimson, Ruth's tone of alarm, as she exclaimed, "What is the matter, Agnes!" brought Guy immediately into the room.
"O, nothing Ruth; please wait until I breathe;" and she tried to get up a laugh. "I did not know I was so out of breath. If you wait a minute, I will explain," for Ruth was beginning to protest that something was wrong.
"There now," she said, removing her hat, and leaning back in the rocking chair, "I am ready to put your fears to rest." Then followed an account of the accident and her visit to the family.
"See here, Agnes, it is all very well to sympathize with people in distress, when youdon't have to sacrifice yourself; but you are not called upon to do more than you are able to perform. And it is quite enough for you to teach school, without running to see all the youngsters whose fathers get tipsy and break their legs," was the opinion Guy gave after hearing her story.
"What do you charge for advice, Mr. Lawyer?" she asked, laughingly, as springing up she advanced to the table and begged Ruth to hurry with the tea, for she was "as hungry as a hawk."
Guy followed, declaring that "if all clients were as self-willed and independent as she, the lawyers might pull down their shingles, take a last look at Coke and Blackstone and then——"
"Well, and then?"—queried Ruth, very much amused.
"Why——then go to grass."
"Little boys should not use slang," said Agnes, demurely.
"Neither should little girls act contrary to the wishes of their big brother," was the reply.
After a blessing had been silently asked, Agnes said:
"Do you really think I am self-willed, Guy?"
"Of course I do; it does not require a knowledge of law to decide that."
"How do I show it? I never meant to be so."
"Well, you succeed pretty well if you don't. I should not like to see you make the effort, if that is the case. How do you show it? Why, by thinking you know better than other people. Don't she, Ruth, and acting out her thoughts?"
"You are partly right and partly wrong," was the reply. "Agnes is not in the least self-willed. It is I who may be called that. In this you are wrong. You are right insaying she acts out her thoughts; but you give a wrong reason. It is not because she thinks she knows better than others. She does not trust her own judgment nearly as much as either you or I."
"Now don't you begin to be mysterious, Ruth, if she don't, whose does she trust?"
"The Lord's."
"Oh!" and Guy had no more to say. Agnes could have embraced her sister then. She wanted to say something to Guy about Ruth, because she knew her better than even he or any one could know her. But he was so silent now, perhaps this was not the best time. Guy ate a little, Agnes thought, and she did not feel so hungry after all; so when Ruth had finished she said: "Let me wash the tea things myself to night, Ruth, I have not been doing anything all day. I will be ready in time for church." She plead as eagerly as if asking a great favor, and Ruthamused at her childishness, with a warning about not placing the glasses in too hot water, ran up stairs, little thinking of the effect her words had either upon the one for whom they were spoken, or the one to whom they were addressed.
"If we had Martha Nelson, she could do so much for Ruth when I am at school," thought Agnes. "But the money, where is that to come from?" Turning it over and over in her mind, she could see no possibility of having Martha, but somehow there was an impression that Martha should be with them. On the way to church, she decided to speak to Ruth about it.
"Did you ever have impressions that certain thingsshouldbe, Ruth, and yet the things seemed impossible?"
"I scarcely understand you," Ruth replied. "What kind of things? spiritual?"
"No, spiritual impressions of temporalthings, I suppose. But this is why I ask." Then she told of Martha's mother wanting to find a place for her, and of the impression amounting almost to a conviction that she was to come to them. "Only I can't see where the money is to come from."
"How much does her mother want a week?" asked Ruth, thoughtfully; for when Agnes had these impressions, they generally had weight with her sister. Indeed she sometimes felt as if the Lord told their Agnes more than almost any other Christian; that she was peculiarly favored of God.
"I did not think of asking her, but it can't be much, for she is young and will require to be taught. Why do you ask, Ruth?"
"I hardly know; perhaps if she did not want much, we could take her."
"Well, I shall ask her mother without giving the reason, and then if it is best, the way will be made clear."
M
RS. Nelson will be willing to let Martha go to a good home for her board and clothing until she learns enough to be entitled to wages, Ruth," Agnes joyfully announced. After a little consultation as to whether their old dresses could be cut down for her, and some misgiving on the part of Ruth as to the training of such a mere child, when neither of them could devote much time to her, they concluded to make the trial.
"If she's worth anything she will be worth a great deal to me just now, for it will enable me to do what I have long been planning,without seeing any way to accomplish it," thought Ruth.
Martha, poor child, in her great joy at the thought of living with "Miss Agnes," seemed to have forgotten the painful circumstance which compelled her to leave home. But on the day that her mother finished patching her few clothes, tying them up and telling her she might go at once to her new home, there came sad tidings from the hospital. They need never hope to have the husband and father home again, unless to take one last look before they buried him out of sight.
"Let me stay with you, mother; Miss Agnes will not be angry, and you will be so lonely," plead the child, forgetting everything else in the one great thought of her mother's approaching widowhood.
"Yes, I will be lonely," wailed the mother. "God only knows the lonelinessand heart-ache that is in store for me. But we'll not shed tears now, child, there'll be time enough by and by. We must away to to see him; he'll have a word to say to us I'm thinking."
She meant to be brave, and to keep back the tears until "by and by," but the thought of hearing the last words, perhaps, or what was worse, finding him unable to speak to her, completely unnerved her, and the strength she had all along tried to keep for her children's sake, failed her. In the midst of this scene, while Martha stood beside her mother, wringing her hands and beseeching her not to groan so, Agnes stepped in, having had but one session of school.
"What is it?" she enquired, alarmed. "Your father is not dead, Martha?"
"I don't know, they sent word that he was dying, and we are going to him. Won't you go, Miss Agnes? I am afraid," and the child shuddered as she spoke.
A shudder passed through Agnes, but she said: "Yes, I will go with you, but I must find some of the scholars to send home and tell Miss Ruth." She thought with horror of going there to the hospital, where men and women were lying struggling for life, to be followed by their wild, staring eyes, and their cries of entreaty for relief. For a moment she was possessed with the feeling that she could not encounter the fearful sight, and the question arose: "Why need I cause myself to suffer when I cannot relieve the sufferings I shall witness?" But ashamed of her cowardice, she banished the thought as unworthy a place in her heart, glad to be able to share the sorrows and help to comfort those whose time of trial and sore distress had come.
"I shall need help one day, perhaps," she said to herself, "if Ruth or Guy should be taken first. But I pray God that I may diebefore them, unless—" here the child-like-spirit showed itself, and her soul became suddenly strong—"it would be to His glory that I should thus suffer."
A boy was sent with a message to Ruth, and then, as Mrs. Nelson was ready, they set out on their mournful visit. It was a long and silent walk. The heart of the sorrow-stricken woman was too full for words, and Agnes, so young and unaccustomed to such scenes, did not know what was best to say.
The hand that held Martha's tightened its grasp as they came within sight of the hospital, and although the voice was very low that whispered in the woman's ear, "Be strong, God will help you," it gave courage and re-assurance.
Up the broad steps and through the long corridors they passed; Martha trembling and drawing closer, while Agnes dared not look to the right or left. Presently they stoppedbefore a curtained recess, and drawing aside the curtain Mrs. Nelson passed in. Martha wanted her teacher with her, she said; but when she was told her father might have things to say to his wife and child alone, she withdrew her hand and followed her mother. It was not long, however, until the nurse came out with a request for Martha's teacher.
"He wants some singing, Miss, and the little girl told him you could sing beautiful," said the man. As Agnes stepped near the bedside, Martha called out eagerly, "Here she is, father, this is Miss Agnes."
He tried to speak, but it was only a movement of the lips, no sound came. Sitting where he could see her, Agnes began in a low, clear voice, to sing:
"There is a fountain fill'd with blood,—"
When she came to the lines—
"And there may I, though vile as he,Wash all my sins away,—"
the dying man held out his hand as if beckoning her over. Again his lips moved, and stooping she heard: "Again—sing."
As her voice arose again, slowly repeating the words, her heart made supplication for the soul so rapidly passing away. Hymn after hymn was sung, all speaking of Jesus and his great love for sinners, and to Agnes it seemed that Jesus was himself speaking in each. She knew he was there in the midst of them, and wondered if the sick man saw him. Bending down, she whispered: "O, how the Saviour loves you; do you love Him?"
He looked at her with the strange, earnest look the dying only have; the look that seems to be measuring eternity; and then his hands were raised and clasped, while his eyes remained fixed on hers.
"He is asking you to pray," said the nurse; "He is near gone."
There was no time to listen to Satan now, or to think of anything but this soul venturing out into the unknown future. Was it prepared?
O, how she plead for him! As if face to face, she talked with God. The Holy Spirit gave her words and great assurance; it seemed as if the answer must come. He had promised to hear and to give the things desired. He hadneverrefused to listen to the feeblest petition, and here was a burdened soul; was not the Saviour near, totakefrom it its burdens? So she entreated as though she alone could save him, yet knowing well that Jesus alone had power to forgive sins.
They had been sobbing around her, but she did not know it. Now there was a strange silence, a sudden calm, and she felt that she had prevailed. As they rose from their knees, something about the dying manattracted them. While they had been kneeling, Jesus had drawn near and whispered to him. The power and music of that voice were ringing in his ear; the beauty of His smile was flooding his soul and radiating his face. In that moment he had passed from death into life.
His wife and child looked at him with awe; the nurse drew back as if the place were too "holy ground" for him. Only Agnes and the new-born soul understood it. But it had only caught a glimpse of the Saviour; before long, with the same indescribable expression, it passed away to be "forever with the Lord."
They went home silently as they had gone there; but a new feeling had taken possession of them. They had seen strange things; new thoughts had been given them, and death had not to them its old terror, for they had seen it swallowed up in victory.
M
ARTHA was fairly installed as kitchen-maid, to the great delight of Agnes, while Ruth congratulated herself that there would be no more dishwashing for her, a thing she detested above all others. "She appears anxious to learn, doesn't she?" asked Agnes. "She was a good scholar and perfectly obedient. I think you will like her, Ruth. If we gain her affections I am sure she will do anything for us."
"But then we must be careful, Agnes, it does not answer to pay too much attention to servants. They are sure to become consequentialand to value themselves too highly, if you notice them much."
"But she is a child, and everything is strange. Besides, when she thinks of her father and of separation from her mother, she must be sad, and perhaps may try your patience. I shall help all I can, but she had better look upon you as mistress. Be patient for my sake, sister."
There was no reply to this, and Agnes was afraid she had made a mistake in proposing such a child, instead of one more fully grown. That night after Martha had gone to bed, she slipped up stairs to know if she had repeated her prayers.
"O, yes, ma'am, I always say them; I should be afraid to go to sleep if I did not."
"We have a great deal to thank God for, Martha. Every day He cares for us, and it is the least we can do to thank Him. Do you thank Him for what you have, or only ask to have more?"
"I guess I ask most for the things I want. I forget about thanking, only I mean it."
"Yes, and God sees that you mean it, but He expects you to tell Him so. Now if I were to give you a great many things every day, and you did not thank me but were all the time thinking of other things you desired to have, I should call you ungrateful and not give you any more. Don't you see how it is? Now when you are praying, be sure to ask not to be allowed to forget pleasing God, by doing every thing as if He were here looking at you. Are you warm enough child?"
"O yes, ma'am, Miss Ruth came up and tucked me in nicely, and—"
"And what?"
"She kissed me and said 'good night.'"
Agnes's first impulse was to exclaim with surprise; but checking herself she stooped down, saying: "And I must follow MissRuth's example, I suppose. Be a good girl, Martha, and Miss Ruth and I will be your friends."
"I need have no fears; Ruth could never be anything but kind, although people so often misunderstand her and think her stern. She will never let generosity carry away her sense of justice; and after all that is the better way," thought Agnes, as she descended to the sitting room. Guy was home that night. As Agnes entered the room he laid down his book with the remark: "I say, Agnes, brother Snowden is considered the salt of the earth among you church people, isn't he?"
"I suppose he is a good man; I don't know much about him. Why do you ask?" was the reply.
"Well, only that it strikes methatkind of salt would not make very strong pickle."
"How you talk," said Ruth, "You know nothing about his Christian life."
"O, that is it, he has two lives has he? Well, I admit that I know nothing about hisChristianlife. But I do know about his business life, if that is a separate and distinct thing. When a Christian comes to me and asks me to undertake a case that is simply trickery and fraud, then I want to know how he can separate himself from his profession of religion. I thought religion had to run through one's life, instead of hinging and unhinging it when one chose. I know one thing, that some of your church members dabble in puddles so dirty that I would not touch them with the tip of my finger, and this Snowden is one of them."
"I would not judge the many by one," replied Agnes, quietly.
"No, that is a wholesale way of speaking," said her sister, positively. "And you may not have understood the man, Guy; and you know you are rather hasty."
"See here, Ruth, don't you begin to take sides with that fellow. Agnes is bound to defend him, because he is a goat of the same fold. But you may be glad you slipped out, backslid is the word I believe, for it is no honor to have the association of such a contemptible specimen of mankind."
Ruth's face flushed and her eye kindled at his allusion to her backsliding, but she did not speak, while Agnes, who was deeply pained at his unkind speech, immediately replied: "You are wrong, Guy, Ruth is a church member, the same as I. And while neither of us can endorse what is done by every member of the church, we know there are good, earnest Christians there, and it is not for us to sit in judgment upon any."
"Bravo!" he exclaimed. "This is most animating. It is a pity you were not a man, you would make a capital advocate. But excuse me, I forget, we have ladies in theprofession. If you have no objection to reading with me, I shall be proud to present to the bar such an able pleader."
This was just what Agnes wanted, to have the conversation turned. So that Ruth and the church escaped, she did not care what was said of her. For fear of Guy returning to the old subject, she inquired whether he thought women could ever attain any eminence in the profession.
"Yes, the fact of them being women will not mentally disqualify them," he replied. "As a general thing they are clear sighted, and although not always logical, have a way of carrying their point in spite of all opposition. To office work some might be well adapted, but when it comes to practise at the bar, to get up and harangue a crowded court-room; to be brought in contact with low characters and take any part in criminal proceedings, then I say a woman is out ofplace. When they take that stand I shall step aside and let them glory in their shame."
Guy spoke with great warmth. Ruth appeared to be listening attentively, though she did not speak. Encouraged by the interest manifested by his sisters, Guy Gorton Esq., Attorney at Law, was in the act of giving a fuller expression of his views, and by hislogicalreasoning, determining woman's position for all time, when the door-bell rang and Martha ushered in visitors.
To Ruth it was a happy relief, for though she had appeared to manifest interest, very painful thoughts were passing through her mind. She had made a great sacrifice for Guy in hope of doing him good, how great, no one knew, and yet withall she had failed in her object. He looked at her as the world always judges of Christians; not by profession but practise. However, it may sneerand cavil at doctrine, the world is not slow to recognize and respect the character that like pure gold carries with it not only beauty but sterling worth.
"Bartered my Christian character," she thought, "and what have I in exchange? Complete failure, dead loss;" and all through the evening, though she talked and laughed, the question and answer came up before her.
When their friends had gone and the girls went up to their room, each sat down on her favorite seat as if for a talk. With Agnes it was the foot of the bed, having the low post on which to lean, while Ruth took the low rocking-chair. The thoughts of both ran in the same direction, but neither seemed inclined to break the silence. Agnes would have spoken, but Ruth was sensitive, and any allusion to the subject might pain her. Suddenly she said, "What a lovely character Edith Hart was, Ruth. Her manners arecharming, and she is perfectly sincere, I am sure. Did you notice what difference Guy paid to her opinions and how much he seemed to admire her? I wish he would fall in love with her and marry her, for of course he will marry some one, and she would have such a good influence over him."
"Yes, when they were married she might, if he in the meantime had not exerted a wrong influence over her. It must require a great deal of grace to maintain your Christian integrity, when those you love are worldly minded. I don't think Edith would hold out any better than the rest of us, if she loved Guy as she should. But there is no use in talking about that, it will be a long time before Guy can marry."
"Why, his practise is improving, isn't it? I often hear him talk of his clients, and you know lawyers charge very high for advice. I don't know where I heard it, but I am ofthe impression that they will not give the least bit of advice under five dollars. At that rate, you know, he will make out well."
Ruth wanted to laugh at her sister's simplicity. Do as she would, she never could teach Agnes the value of money. And now, poor child, she seemed to think Guy had nothing to do but open his mouth and gold dollars would roll out, as diamonds did in the wonderful story of "Toads and Diamonds." In one way she was glad that Agnes knew so little about money matters; she wanted to save her from care or anxiety. But there were times when she was so perplexed and straitened, that it made her impatient to think any grown person could be so stupid as to live in their house and not more fully understand their circumstances. At such times she murmured and even rebelled, wondering why she should have all the burden. It did not reconcile her to it,to know that others admired and deferred to her judgment. She grew tired of thinking and planning, and longed for a strength greater than her own, upon which she could lean, for some one to help her bear the burdens. This was not sentiment. If the thought of marriage came to her as it probably did, especially at such times, she put it far from her. She would never leave Guy and Agnes; but if they only had been constituted differently, they could have helped her. And they in turn, little dreaming of her struggles, looked at her with admiring eyes, giving her credit, as far as they could follow her, and thinking what a wonderful woman their Ruth was.
"But it is slow work after all," she said, by way of reply to her sister's remarks. "A man must possess great talent and still greater patience and perseverance, to arrive at any distinction; and until he reaches that, he cannotexpect to make his fortune. There are so many young lawyers, they are crowding each other out."
"But Guy must be satisfied, Ruth; he does not appear troubled or disappointed."
"Why should he? he is like hundreds more, and that fact is consoling. Besides, the slower and more cautious he is in the ascent, the more assured will he be when he reaches the summit."
She rose as she said this, and Agnes thinking the talk was over, removed her arms from the friendly bed-post. But she had only gone over to the bureau for her Bible, that she might read a chapter as usual before retiring. Returning to her seat she abruptly asked: "Do you think much about the future, Agnes?"
"Do you mean about heaven?"
"No, the future of time."
"Not nearly as much as I used to. Beforemy heart was renewed, I kept looking to the future for something satisfying; but it never came until I found the Saviour."
"Yes, but I mean do you wonder what your life is to be, and what changes will come to us all?"
"O, often such thoughts come, but they are disquieting, and I drive them away. It is better to live by the moment, just as we breathe."
Ruth opened her book and began to read. Her eye having fallen on the last verse of the sixth chapter of Matthew, it had called forth the above question. Now she read it all carefully; it was just what she needed to-night. Dissatisfied with herself, and feeling that she was not satisfying others, she wanted to find the rest that comes from leaving everything in a Father's hands, but she was yet to find the spirit of trust and submission.
R
IPLEY, like most towns of its size, possessed few novelties, and rarely produced a sensation. It did its duty in the way of gossip, as towns and villages are expected to do. Carrying out, in a manner peculiar to some, the injunction of the apostle: "Look not every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of others." When the Rev. John Jay was called to the Fourth street church, the whole town partook of the excitement, for he was a young and single man; moreover, he came from a distant city, with the strongest recommendation. He had been there about ayear, when the community were again aroused to a high pitch of expectancy, by the following announcement one Sabbath morning: "The Official Board of this church will hold a special meeting at the close of the Wednesday night prayer meeting. A full attendance is requested as a matter of grave moment is to be presented."
As the minister made this announcement, he fervently wished they would always attend to business after prayer-meeting. He would not then have to refer so often to that means of grace, for the Fourth street brethren looked well to the temporal interests of their church.
He did not see the nod given by brother Smith to brother Snowden, which said:—"I told you it was a comin'; now you'll believe me;" nor the succession of nods in return, which indicated:—"Well, to think of it. After that I give up." Neither did he overtakethe group of officials who slowly wended their way homeward in earnest discussion, shaking their heads, and trying to give greater force to their words by an energetic movement of the hand and arm.
He was picking his steps as best he could through a crowd of children, who were darting here and there, looking up at him with beaming eyes, and trying to touch his hands at least, if they could not hold them. As he looked at these lambs, he wondered if there could be love for the Saviour in any heart which did not make the young a special care. After he had parted from them, two little feet came tripping back to remind him of his promise that he would finish the story of Moses in the afternoon. He went home thanking God for the innocence of childhood, while with their noon-day meal many of of these children partook of poison administered by their parents. For what else isfault-finding, intolerance and uncharitableness, but the deadliest poison?
And what gave rise to this, was simply that the young people of the church and community wanted to organize a Young People's Association, at the suggestion of their pastor, and wished the privilege of holding it in the Lecture-room. The thing was projected so suddenly, that very few of the older members knew anything about it until it was brought to their notice in this manner.
When the hour for the evening service arrived, there were few who had not heard the news; for brother Smith and brother Snowden considered it a good Sabbath day's work to discuss the matter in all its bearings with all the members they could meet, although they did not doubt but the women folks would be sure to side with the young people.
On Wednesday night the Lecture-room was crowded. Those whose faces were seldomseen in the Lord's house, and many of the brethren who always found it extremely inconvenient to attend on that night, were there. Of course, none but the Board could remain, for the meeting, but the others could hover round and catch the news much sooner than if they had staid at home.
The Rev. John Jay drew very near to Christ in presenting his flock, and most earnestly prayed for the young of the congregation and community, many of whom he saw there for the first time. As he prayed, brother Smith and Snowden were loud in their responses.
Those who went to meet the master of assemblies, felt it good to be there. Unto them had been broken the bread of life. Unto them a well-known voice had spoken, and now they were stronger, braver and more hopeful. When the minister, with uplifted hands, pronounced the words of thebenediction, like the gentle dew, fell that peace into their hearts, drawing them out in tenderest sympathy toward all His creatures.
After it had been ascertained that there were no intruders, and the doors had been carefully closed, the business commenced. Prayer was dispensed with, for there had been so much of it before.
"I move we dispense with everything but the business in hand," said one, and as the meeting concurred, the petition was presented by one of the most promising young men of the church, named Hayes. In it the petitioners set forth that they, feeling the need of proper social entertainment and mental improvement, wished to organize for that purpose, and most respectfully asked the use of the Lecture-room.
The secretary had no sooner uttered the last sentence, than brother Smith arose and protested against any such desecration of the Lord's temple.
"Social entertainment! What did that mean, but a parcel of boys and girls without a speck of grace in their hearts, wantin' a good courtin'-place where their father's and mother's wouldn't see them. For his part, no child of his should join them.
"There's carryin's on enough under our very noses, in the hearin' of the word without givin' any more license," he continued, waxing warmer.
"That's so," said brother Snowden, and one or two others grunted an assent.
Then the young man named Hayes arose and calmly said: "It is well known that the young seek enjoyment. Their minds are fresh and active; they will turn in one direction or another. We cannot control them; we can only seek to guide them. Many of our young are going to ruin, because there are no well directed efforts put forth to meet the wants of their impulsive natures.The world offers to gratify them. It stretches out its arms and says: 'Come to me. I have pleasures for all at my command.' And already many have turned and accepted the proffered good. We Christians groan over these and talk of their final doom; yet what do we offer those, whose eager, hungry natures cry out to us for bread?
"We say, 'Go to church on the Sabbath, and to prayer-meeting; that is well; but they want more than this and so do we. That will do for the spiritual part of our nature. But there is a social and intellectual part which must be cared for. And let me tell you, brethren, until the church makes provision for every want of the young, it can never gain a proper hold upon them.
"It is not for me to stand here as the teacher of those older and wiser than I. But it seems to me if we had the Apostle Paul here, he would define our duty in broader andmore decided terms. And still a greater than Paul says: 'What man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread will he give him a stone?' That question applies to every want of the being. How are you going to answer it to-night? I charge you not to close your doors upon those who knock, lest, if the gate of heaven closes upon them, you be found not guiltless."
These pointed words evidently made a good impression, and the opposition had not courage to oppose farther. Several of the brethren, men whose hearts were under divine control, and whose lives were devoted to the advancement of the Master's cause, in a few words endorsed the remarks, and when the question was called for, there was but one side, the opposition not voting.
When the young people were called together, there was quite a large gathering. Rev. John Jay was unanimously electedPresident, and Mr. Hayes, Secretary. But now the great difficulty was, to obtain members. All at once, these young men and women, the latter especially, became conscious of their ignorance, and dreaded its exposure, for the public Library of Ripley, was not very extensive or attractive. Its old volumes of Theology, its Annals and Histories, had been too heavy matter for youthful digestion, and as a majority of the young women did not consider it necessary to know anything of the affairs of the nation, or to possess any knowledge of the world outside of their own town, they had been content to glean from the newspapers, to note the deaths and marriages, watch for some new recipe in cookery, or the love-stories as they appeared each week.
After a great deal of difficulty, twenty signatures were obtained, with the understanding that the young ladies in preparing theiressays, were not expected to read them or make public their names. Every thing at first, until the members acquired more confidence, was to be voluntary. After the business of the evening had been transacted, a call was made for contributions.
This was at once responded to by the principal clerk in the principal grocery store, he giving them in loud and thundering tones: "The Star Spangled Banner." So grandly did he render it, especially the "bombs bursting in air," that one young lady covered her face to shut out the view of the descending bombs, and the President was compelled to move aside, to prevent, if not the deadly missiles, the bodily weight of the speaker from descending upon him.
Loud applause greeted him at its conclusion, and but for the hint given by the President that it was time to close, they would have been favored with another brilliant display.The general opinion expressed by those having any knowledge of theatricals was, that it was "almost as good as a play," and the orator of the evening was overwhelmed with compliments. After this, there was little difficulty in obtaining members; indeed the young clerk the very next day succeeded in getting fifteen, so that by the following meeting night, there was a large and expectant assemblage. The young grocer held forth of course, and several others were so stirred with patriotism that Fourth of July orations and patriotic speeches followed each other in close succession. With a great deal of persuasion, a few ladies were prevailed upon to sing, and thinking the music should correspond with the addresses, they were about to give Hail Columbia, when the President suggested that something else by way of variety would be acceptable to the audience.
"The Old Arm Chair" was substituted and gave general satisfaction. Even old brother Sneddinly, who with a few others was at a side door listening, declared that anything that brought the Bible into it, must have been written by a Christian; and if it wasn't in the Hymn Book, it went pretty near as slow and solemn as some of the hymns. The latter assertion could not be contradicted by his companions, and they even went so far as to congratulate the pastor on his success in getting up "so big an affair." "Suppose you add still further to its success by your presence and assistance," he suggested with a smile; "we need some wise and clear heads among us."
But that thought could not be entertained for a moment by the brethren. "How would it look for them to be mixing in with a parcel of young folks, most of whom made no show whatever of religion? O no, that would betoo great a compromise! There ought to be a strict line drawn between the world and Christians."
"Isn't there danger of drawing it so tight that we will cut them off from us entirely?" asked the pastor.
"No fear of that," was the reply, "if it is held tight at one end, the other end will be loose enough to slip them through."
"Thank God," said the Rev. John Jay, mentally; "there shall be no tightening or straining at this end!"
The Association soon became the all-absorbing topic of the place. The young people discussed it, and the old people discussed it. It was destined to become a grand success, the Rev. John Jay thought, as he saw denominational prejudices give way and the young people of the different churches unite to help one another and be helped. Yet there was one drawback; some of thosefor whom he was most anxious, whose feet had begun to travel the downward road; the children of those who professed to be God's children, were never seen there. His soul was troubled. He knew at whose door the fault lay, yet what could he do? He was young and inexperienced. These men and women, parents of the prodigal ones were older than he. Should he show them the fearful mistake they were making in condemning everything that was not purely a religious worship? Should he tell them by reason of their sternness and their narrow prejudices, which seemed more to them than the souls of their children, they were driving their children away from them and from God? Would they bear this from him, even though as Christ's ambassador he were to speak? He was exceedingly doubtful; perhaps they might dismiss him. Wouldn't it be better for him to remain and watch overthese wayward ones, showing them that he knew the weakness of human nature and the unquenchable ardor of youth? He concluded to try it. He would make that his one great work; he would win them to Christ. With a heart somewhat lightened, he gave himself out more fully in loving words to the young, and entered more earnestly into every plan suggested to make the association an attraction. But just as he was seeing the good results here, in anotherdirectionthe storm was gathering. He saw it in the black looks and averted eyes of many of the officials and even of their wives, but as yet its mutterings had not reached his ear.
Some to whom he had endeared himself heard, and were fiercely indignant that such a sweet, Christ-like spirit, as their pastor's, should suffer pain through such allusions.
Just the very thing he had labored to accomplish,was that which was to testify against him. Many young hearts had been drawn nearer to Christ through him, and their voices were heard in the songs of praise which went up from that little prayer-circle on Wednesday night. But these pious men and women, although rarely ever present themselves, saw nothing in which to rejoice. On the contrary, they mourned over the weakness of one, who by virtue of his sacred office, should be far removed from such things. Wasn't it too evident that the young women went to church to see the young pastor, and the young men to see the young women? It was time such things were stopped; they were a shame and disgrace to a church.
In the meantime the society was flourishing, a new element had been brought into it, and so far as its literary character was concerned, the most sanguine expectations of the Rev. John Jay had been met.
Several public meetings had been held, filling the house to overflowing, and eliciting the highest and most deserving praise. But that was of course from outsiders, and those simple-minded souls in the church, who never see evil without looking for good; who indeed are always finding the latter in everything and in every one but themselves. These were not competent judges. "Had the church been left to them, where would have been its sacredness and sanctity? Why, they never even changed their voices in the Lord's house, and they even wore a smile while there, as if they had forgotten the Lord was in his holy temple."
Thank God, there are those who carry His image about wherever they go! Such need not by their own effort show a conscienceness of His presence. He is the continual light of their countenance, and the gladness and music he makes in their hearts, is heardin their voice. They worship and praise with every breath, because their souls must find an outlet to the great love which holds them.