But when he approached the village where they were shooting, dancing, playing, and making a great noise, he suddenly stopped, for he recollected that if he should meet with his father, who was there, he would certainly beat him, and send him home again, in presence of all the people who might be assembled; besides, his brother Peter was there also, and he might see him, and tell his father. He therefore kept at a distance, behind a hedge, not daring to advance any farther.
"Supposing I read this book!" said he, at last, after having vainly racked his brain to find out how he could be at the fete without being discovered. "There is nothing in it but nonsense, I know beforehand; however, it will occupy me for a while."
This tract was called "The Happy Family," and Mark became so much interested in it, that he not only read the whole, but many parts of it twice over.
"How odd it is," said he, when he had finished reading; "I should never have thought it could be thus; this Andrew and Julia, after all, were much happier than we are, and than I am, in particular. Ah!" added he, as he walked on by the hedge-side, looking on the ground, "possibly Josephine may have spoken the truth, and that, after all, the right way is the one which this lady points out."
As he thought over the little story he had been reading, he retraced his steps towards his own village, at first rather slowly, but soon at a quicker pace, and he entered his father's house very quietly, and without either whistling or making a noise, as he generally did.
"You have not then been to the fete," said Josephine.
Mark.—(A little ashamed.)—"I dared not go, I was afraid my father would beat me."
Josephine.—"It would have been better, Mark, if you had been equally afraid of offending God."
Mark was on the point of ridiculing her, as he always did, but he recollected Andrew and Julia, and was silent.
Josephine.—(Kindly.)—"But is it not true, Mark? would it not be better to fear God, than to be always offending him?"
Mark.—(Knitting his brow.)—"Yes, as Andrew and Julia did! would it not?"
Josephine.—(surprised.)—"Of whom do you speak, Mark? Is it of "The Happy Family," in which an Andrew and a Julia are mentioned. Have you ever read that beautiful story?"
"Here it is," said Mark, drawing the tract from his pocket, and giving it to his sister.
Josephine.—"Yes, this is it, exactly! But brother, where did you get it, for it is quite new; did you buy it of aScripture Reader."
"Did Ibuyit?" said Mark, sullenly. "Do you suppose I should spend my money in such nonsense asthat?"
Josephine.—"Then how did you get it? Did any one give it you?"
Mark.—(Slyly.)—"Ah! they have often tried to give me some, but I tore them to pieces, and threw them away, before their faces!"
Josephine.—"So much the worse, Mark! for the truth of God is written in them, and it is very sinful to tear the truth of God in pieces."
Mark.—(Rudely.)—"But you see I have not torn this, for it is quite whole! And as you are so anxious to know how I came by it, I found it on the ground, near the road, and just beyond the brushwood."
Josephine.—"Ah! then I know where it came from. The Pastor's son, and the two sons of the schoolmaster, have got up a Religious Tract Society, who distribute them in all directions."
Mark.—(Reproachfully.)—"And pray why do they scatter them about in this way? Can't they leave people alone, without cramming every body's head with their own fancies. Let them keep their religion to themselves, and leave other people to do the same."
Josephine.—"Do you think, Mark, that Andrew and Julia did wrong to listen to their father and grandmamma, and to follow the precepts of the Bible in preference to the ridicule of scoffers."
Mark.—(Softened.)—"I did not saythat.... I think Andrew and Julia were right; but ... come give me back the Tract; I want to look at something in it again."
Mark then went away, carrying the Tract with him; and shortly after, Josephine saw him sitting in the garden, behind a hedge of sweet-briar, reading it attentively.
"Where's that good-for-nothing Mark?" demanded the vinedresser, when he returned home at night half tipsy. "Did he dare to venture to the shooting-match? I was told that he was seen sneaking about the outskirts of the village! where is he now?"
"He went to bed more than an hour ago," answered his mother, "and was no more at the shooting-match than I was, for I saw him reading in the garden."
"Mark,reading!" replied his father. "What could he be reading? It would be a miracle to see him with a book in his hand. An idle fellow like him, who never did learn any thing, and never will!"
The vinedresser's wife was silent, and after putting poor little Peter to bed, who was quite tired and weary, she managed to get the father to bed also, and peace reigned for a season in this miserable abode.
Mark, however, who was not asleep when his father returned, had heard himself called a good-for-nothing idle fellow, and he trembled from head to foot, when he found he had been seen in the neighborhood of the village.
"What a good thing it was," said he to himself, "that I did not go on! It was certainly God who prevented me!" added he, half ashamed of the thought because it was so new to him; but he determined no longer to resist it.
On the morrow, to the great surprise of his father and mother, Mark got up in good humor; he answered his father without grumbling, and when he was desired to go and work in the field, Mark hastened to take his hoe and spade, and set off, singing merrily.
"What has happened to him?" asked the father. "One would scarcely believe it was he! Wife, what did you say to him yesterday, to make him so good-humored this morning?"
"I never even spoke to him," said his wife, dryly. "You know how whimsical he is."
"I wish he may remain in his present mind!" said the vinedresser; and thereupon he went off to the ale-house, to talk with his neighbors of the best shots of the preceding day.
Josephine related the history of the little tract to the good pastor's wife, who advised her to meet Mark on his return from the field, and to speak to him again of what he had read.
"Is ityou, sister?" said Mark, in a happy tone of voice, as soon as he saw her. "It is very good of you to meet me."
Josephine, who never received such a welcome from him before, was quite delighted, and going up to him, she said, affectionately, "I want very much to talk with you again about Andrew and Julia."
Mark.—(Seriously.)—"And so do I. I should like very much to resemble them."
Josephine.—(Quickly.)—"Do you mean what you say, Mark? Have you thought of it again since yesterday?"
Mark.—(Still serious.)—"I have thought so much about it, that I am determined to change my habits. Yes, Josephine, I think you are right, and that, after all, religion is better than ridicule."
The conversation continued as it had commenced, and when Mark returned home, he went up and kissed his mother, who was just laying the table for dinner.
"What's the matter?" said she, with some surprise; "you seem in very good spirits, today."
"Nothing is the matter, good mother, but that I wish to alter my conduct," replied Mark, seriously.
"To alter your conduct," cried little Peter, as he looked up in his brother's face, and began to titter.
"And you, too, little Peter," said Mark, "you must become good, also."
"What a funny idea," cried the child, laughing. "Whathas made you turn schoolmaster, all at once? and, pray, when am I to begin?"
"We shall see by-and-bye," said Mark, kindly. "In the meantime, come and help me to tend the cow."
"There is something behind all this!" said the mother and she blushed to think that this change had not been occasioned by anything she had said or done to him, herself.
When the father returned from the ale-house, they all sat down to dinner, and as usual, without saying "grace." Josephine said hers to herself, and Mark, who recollected Andrew and Julia, blushed when he took his spoon to eat his soup.
After dinner, when they were out of the house, Josephine said to Mark, "What a pity it is, brother, that papa does not pray before each meal."
"Allthatwill come in time, Josephine," said Mark; "I never prayed myself, and yet ... I must now begin directly. But what shall I do? Papa will be very angry if he sees me religious."
"I do not think he will," said Josephine, "for I heard him say to mumma, this morning, that he should be very glad if your conduct improved."
Mark blushed, but did not reply. He returned to his work without being desired to do so, and his father, who was quite astonished, said to his wife, "There is something very extraordinary about Mark. I wish it may last."
"You wish it may last!" said his wife; "how can you wish that, when you do not care to improve yourself."
"And you, my poor wife," said the vinedresser, "do you care to change any more than I do? I think as to that matter, we cannot say much against each other."
"Well, at all events," said his wife, "I am not a drunkard."
"Nor am I a tattler," replied the husband. "And for this reason let us each think of our own fault, and if Mark is disposed to reform, do not let us prevent him; for, my poor wife,ourexample is not a very good one for him."
Josephine, who was working at her needle, in the adjoining room, could not help overhearing this confession of her father, and she felt the more encouraged to uphold Mark in his good intention.
She therefore went again to meet him, and repeated to him all she had heard. "I think," added she, "you will do well to relate what has happened to our father and mother, and read them the little tract."
"Not yet," said Mark, "for my principles are not sufficiently strong. It is but an hour since the ale-house keeper's son laughed at me, because I told him I would not play at nine-pins with him, during working hours. He asked me if I was becoming a Methodist, and I did not know what answer to make. However, I trust I am already improving, and I have read the little tract again for the third time."
"Oh!" said Josephine, "we ought to read the Bible, and we do not possess one."
"True," said Mark, somewhat surprised. "I never thought ofthat. We have really no Bible in the house! Indeed, this must not be," he added, looking on the ground, and striking it with his spade.
"What shall we do, then?" said Josephine, "for it would be very nice to have one."
Mark became thoughtful, but said nothing. From that day his conduct was always regular, and his habits industrious, so much so, that his father, who was never in the habit of showing him much kindness, said to him, at the dinner table, and before all the rest of the family, "Well, my good Mark, tell us what has happened to you; for it is very pleasant to us to see how well you now behave. Tell us, my boy, what has been the cause of this improvement."
"It was from this book," said Mark, drawing it out of his pocket, where he always kept it.
"What book is it?" said his mother, scornfully. "Is it not some of that horrid trash, that"...
"Be silent," cried the father. "If this book has done good, how can it be horrid trash? Do sour grapes produce good wine?"
"But," replied the mother, bitterly, "I will not have any of those books and tracts in this house."
"Well, for my part," said the vinedresser, "I will encourage all that teach my children to do what is right. Mark has worked well for the last eight days; he has not occasioned me a moment's vexation during the whole of that time, and as he says that this book has been the means of his improvement, I shall also immediately read it myself. Come, Mark, let us hear it. You can read fluently; come, we will all listen. Wife, do you be quiet, and you too, Peter; as for Josephine she is quite ready."
Mark began to read, but he could not proceed far; his father got up and went out, without saying a word, and his mother began to remove the dinner-things.
But as soon as the family re-assembled in the evening, the father said to Mark, "Go on with your reading, Mark, I want to hear the end, for I like the story."
Mark read, and when he came to that part of the tract, in which the Bible is mentioned, the vinedresser looked up to a high shelf on the wall, where were some old books, and said, "wife, had we not once a Bible?"
"Fifteen years ago," she answered, "you exchanged it for a pistol."
The vinedresser blushed, and listened with out farther interruption until Mark had done reading. When the tract was finished, he remained silent, his head leaning on his hands, and his elbows on his knees. Josephine thought this was the time to speak about the Bible, which she had so long wished to possess, and she went up to her father, and stood for some time by his side without speaking.
Her father perceived her, and raising his head, he said to her, "What do you want, Josephine, tell me, my child, what do you want to ask me?"
"Dear papa," said the child, "I have long desired to read the Bible, would you be so kind as to buy me one?"
"A Bible," cried her mother, "what canyouwant with a Bible, atyourage?"
"Oh! wife, wife," said the vinedresser, much vexed, "when will you help me to do what is right?" "Yes, my child," he added, kissing Josephine's cheek, "I will buy you one to-morrow. Do you think there are any to be had at the pastor's house?"
"Oh! yes, plenty," cried Josephine, "and very large ones too!"
"Very well then," said the father, as he got up, and went out of the house, "you shall have a very large one."
"But," said his wife, calling after him, "you don't know how much it will cost."
"It will not cost so much as the wine I mean no longer to drink!" replied the father, firmly.
He kept his word. The Bible was purchased on the morrow, and the same evening the father desired Mark to read him a whole chapter. The ale-house saw him no more the whole of that week, and still less the following Sunday. His friends laughed at him, and wanted to get him back. He was at first tempted and almost overcome, but the thought of the Bible restrained him, and he determined to refuse.
"Are you gone mad, then?" said they.
"No," replied he, "but I read the Bible now, and as it says, that drunkards shall not 'inherit the kingdom of God,' I listen to what it says, and I desire to cease to be a drunkard."
"You see," said Josephine to Mark, as they accompanied each other to church, "how good God has been to us. We have now a Bible, and it is read by all at home."
Mark.—"Have you been able to tell the pastor's son how much good his tract has done us?"
Josephine.—"I told his mother."
Mark.—"And what did she say?"
Josephine.—"She said, 'God is wonderful in all his ways,' and that, 'He which hath begun the good work in us, will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ.'"
Mark.—(Feelingly.)—"Who could have thought that when I went as a rebel to that Fete, that God was there waiting to draw me to himself. But, dear Josephine, there is yet much to be done."
"But," said Josephine, "where God has promised he is also able to perform. He has told us to pray in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ. Let us do so, and you will see that God will renew our hearts, and make us wise and good."