XIII.WHY FRED WAS PUNISHED.“The Lord is slow to anger, and great in power, and will not at all acquit the wicked.”Our Fred, the merriest boy ever seen,Was now in disgrace. We were all so sad.But saddest of all was his mother, I ween,The dearest mamma a boy ever had.She had argued, entreated, commanded in vain.Poor, foolish Fred still refused to obey.Poor, foolish Fred! who would sadly complainTo do without mamma one single whole day.So strong and so loving, so wise and so good,So ready to help, so patient to bear,—Could any one do what his dear mamma could?Or take of her boy such fond watch and care?She waited and waited, but Fred only grewMore sullen and stubborn; then, with a tear,She said, oh! so slowly, “It never will doTo leave him unpunished, tho’ never so dear.”The verdict was given,—at home to remainThat day of all days, the Fourth of July.And mother, whose lips framed the sentence so stern,Grieved more than we all, her boy to deny.Patient to wait, strong and loving to help,But firm against wrong,—he’ll thank her, someday,—The mother, who, seeing the gain through the pain,With punishment barred Sin’s broad, tempting way.And so our Father in Heaven doth wait,Lovingly, patiently; once and againCalling us back from the broad, gilded gateWhich leads down to death, through sorrow and shame.His love, strong and tender to help and to bless,Though stern and unyielding, is love no lessWhen it bars the way with punishment sore,Than when it waits at the Open Door.
“The Lord is slow to anger, and great in power, and will not at all acquit the wicked.”
“The Lord is slow to anger, and great in power, and will not at all acquit the wicked.”
Our Fred, the merriest boy ever seen,Was now in disgrace. We were all so sad.But saddest of all was his mother, I ween,The dearest mamma a boy ever had.She had argued, entreated, commanded in vain.Poor, foolish Fred still refused to obey.Poor, foolish Fred! who would sadly complainTo do without mamma one single whole day.So strong and so loving, so wise and so good,So ready to help, so patient to bear,—Could any one do what his dear mamma could?Or take of her boy such fond watch and care?She waited and waited, but Fred only grewMore sullen and stubborn; then, with a tear,She said, oh! so slowly, “It never will doTo leave him unpunished, tho’ never so dear.”The verdict was given,—at home to remainThat day of all days, the Fourth of July.And mother, whose lips framed the sentence so stern,Grieved more than we all, her boy to deny.Patient to wait, strong and loving to help,But firm against wrong,—he’ll thank her, someday,—The mother, who, seeing the gain through the pain,With punishment barred Sin’s broad, tempting way.And so our Father in Heaven doth wait,Lovingly, patiently; once and againCalling us back from the broad, gilded gateWhich leads down to death, through sorrow and shame.His love, strong and tender to help and to bless,Though stern and unyielding, is love no lessWhen it bars the way with punishment sore,Than when it waits at the Open Door.
Our Fred, the merriest boy ever seen,Was now in disgrace. We were all so sad.But saddest of all was his mother, I ween,The dearest mamma a boy ever had.She had argued, entreated, commanded in vain.Poor, foolish Fred still refused to obey.Poor, foolish Fred! who would sadly complainTo do without mamma one single whole day.So strong and so loving, so wise and so good,So ready to help, so patient to bear,—Could any one do what his dear mamma could?Or take of her boy such fond watch and care?She waited and waited, but Fred only grewMore sullen and stubborn; then, with a tear,She said, oh! so slowly, “It never will doTo leave him unpunished, tho’ never so dear.”The verdict was given,—at home to remainThat day of all days, the Fourth of July.And mother, whose lips framed the sentence so stern,Grieved more than we all, her boy to deny.Patient to wait, strong and loving to help,But firm against wrong,—he’ll thank her, someday,—The mother, who, seeing the gain through the pain,With punishment barred Sin’s broad, tempting way.And so our Father in Heaven doth wait,Lovingly, patiently; once and againCalling us back from the broad, gilded gateWhich leads down to death, through sorrow and shame.His love, strong and tender to help and to bless,Though stern and unyielding, is love no lessWhen it bars the way with punishment sore,Than when it waits at the Open Door.
Our Fred, the merriest boy ever seen,Was now in disgrace. We were all so sad.But saddest of all was his mother, I ween,The dearest mamma a boy ever had.
Our Fred, the merriest boy ever seen,
Was now in disgrace. We were all so sad.
But saddest of all was his mother, I ween,
The dearest mamma a boy ever had.
She had argued, entreated, commanded in vain.Poor, foolish Fred still refused to obey.Poor, foolish Fred! who would sadly complainTo do without mamma one single whole day.
She had argued, entreated, commanded in vain.
Poor, foolish Fred still refused to obey.
Poor, foolish Fred! who would sadly complain
To do without mamma one single whole day.
So strong and so loving, so wise and so good,So ready to help, so patient to bear,—Could any one do what his dear mamma could?Or take of her boy such fond watch and care?
So strong and so loving, so wise and so good,
So ready to help, so patient to bear,—
Could any one do what his dear mamma could?
Or take of her boy such fond watch and care?
She waited and waited, but Fred only grewMore sullen and stubborn; then, with a tear,She said, oh! so slowly, “It never will doTo leave him unpunished, tho’ never so dear.”
She waited and waited, but Fred only grew
More sullen and stubborn; then, with a tear,
She said, oh! so slowly, “It never will do
To leave him unpunished, tho’ never so dear.”
The verdict was given,—at home to remainThat day of all days, the Fourth of July.And mother, whose lips framed the sentence so stern,Grieved more than we all, her boy to deny.
The verdict was given,—at home to remain
That day of all days, the Fourth of July.
And mother, whose lips framed the sentence so stern,
Grieved more than we all, her boy to deny.
Patient to wait, strong and loving to help,But firm against wrong,—he’ll thank her, someday,—The mother, who, seeing the gain through the pain,With punishment barred Sin’s broad, tempting way.
Patient to wait, strong and loving to help,
But firm against wrong,—he’ll thank her, someday,—
The mother, who, seeing the gain through the pain,
With punishment barred Sin’s broad, tempting way.
And so our Father in Heaven doth wait,Lovingly, patiently; once and againCalling us back from the broad, gilded gateWhich leads down to death, through sorrow and shame.
And so our Father in Heaven doth wait,
Lovingly, patiently; once and again
Calling us back from the broad, gilded gate
Which leads down to death, through sorrow and shame.
His love, strong and tender to help and to bless,Though stern and unyielding, is love no lessWhen it bars the way with punishment sore,Than when it waits at the Open Door.
His love, strong and tender to help and to bless,
Though stern and unyielding, is love no less
When it bars the way with punishment sore,
Than when it waits at the Open Door.
“Then the deputy, when he saw what was done, believed, being astonished at the doctrine of the Lord.”
“Then the deputy, when he saw what was done, believed, being astonished at the doctrine of the Lord.”
Farmer Vanceand his wife were taking tea at Mr. Sherman’s. Mrs. Vance and Mrs. Sherman were old schoolmates, and always exchanged yearly visits.
The two gentlemen had talked over the coming election, specie payment, business prospects, and came finally to the Centennial.
Did Mr. Vance think of going? Well, he didn’t know; should like to well enough. Fact was, he’d been unfortunate about his help all summer,—had them off and on; couldn’t think of going unless he found some reliable man to look after things. By theway, did Mr. Sherman know of anybody who wanted to hire out for the rest of the season?
Yes; Mr. Sherman was sure he knew of just the man, or at least a man who needed just such a place. He had been employing him for a few weeks, and could vouch for his willingness and ability. It was Dan Harte, living in that little old house on the corner—
“Dan Harte!” echoed Mr. Vance, laying down his knife and fork.
“Yes, Dan Harte,” repeated Mr. Sherman, reaching for another biscuit; “and a better gardener I wouldn’t ask for.”
“How many sprees has he had in the time?”
“Not one.”
“You’re joking now. Why, I know Dan. He worked for me, years ago. As you say, he was willing and competent, but hewouldhave his times. He was soaked through and through with whiskey then, and he has been going down hill ever since.”
“But you see, he has turned square around and is going up now.”
“Oh, sho! he’s done that time and again. You remember the temperance flurry we had three years ago? I helped the thing along then, mostly on account of such fellows as Dan. Don’t believe in so much fuss myself, although I don’t make a practice of using the stuff. But, as I was saying, Dan signed the pledge. Wasn’t the least bit of use; he was dead drunk in less than a week. I wouldn’t give that,”—snapping his fingers,—“for all his promises and pledges.”
“I confess I should have little faith myself were it not that now he has an Endorser whose word never fails,” rejoined Mr. Sherman, quietly.
Mr. Vance looked his surprise, and politely waited for his host to proceed.
“I do not say he willnotfall again,” resumed Mr. Sherman, “but Idosay that so long as he keeps his trust where it is now, on the Divine arm, he will stand firm. Dr. Helps called my attention to his case first.He said he believed the man had become a Christian, and he was anxious to get him employment out of doors, away from those low groggeries around the mills. I could quite easily create a supply for the evident demand, and am not sorry I did. One can’t do a better thing than to extend a helping hand to a fallen brother.”
“Oh, of course, of course; but my word for it, he’ll give in to his appetite again, sooner or later. It’s in the nature of things. I haven’t your faith in this church business. Haven’t been inside one myself for twenty years, to say the least; never brought up my boy to, either. Folks all prophesied he’d go to destruction, but I ain’t ashamed to stand him alongside of Carter’s boy, to-day.”
Mr. Sherman lifted his eyebrows slightly.
What but the very church influences the father despised had checked the boy in his downward career and led him up to better things?
“Dick is very steady at church,” he remarked.
“Yes, oh, yes! he and his mother have taken to it of late. I let them have their own way; that’s my creed—every man as he thinks—liberal, you see. Freedom is what our forefathers came over here for.”
“Freedom to worship God,” amended Mr. Sherman, quietly. “I believe in that liberality. If a man will truly worship God after the dictates of an enlightened conscience, I won’t quarrel about his creed. But I want him to let the true light shine on his conscience, not merely the flickering flame of reason or science.”
“Can’t all see alike; don’t believe in any of it myself,” rejoined Mr. Vance, pushing back from the table. “Come, let’s have a look at Dan. If I thought it would last long enough to pay, I’d really like to hire the fellow.”
Some six weeks later Mr. Sherman met the farmer on the street, and stopped to inquire after his new workman.
“It beats all!” said Mr. Vance. “The man’s in earnest this time, and no mistake.Does seem as if he’d hit the right tack at last, and I can’t help believing he’s going to hold out, in spite of myself. Anyhow, wife and I are going to start for the Centennial next week, leaving Dan monarch of all he surveys. Now, I’d like to ask if you really pretend it’s his religion makes all the difference? for heisdifferent from what he’s ever been before; there’s no denying that.”
“I do most sincerely believe it is wholly by faith in a helping Saviour that man is to-day clothed and in his right mind,” rejoined Mr. Sherman, earnestly.
“Well, I never saw anything just like it,” said Mr. Vance, preparing to move on. “It astonishes me every time I look at him. I may come to church myself some day just to inquire into the thing. Be some staring, wouldn’t there? Plenty of room I suppose?”
“Room and a welcome and a blessing, I trust, for ‘whosoever will,’” said Mr. Sherman shaking his friend’s hand heartily. “Come, and get on the ‘right tack,’ yourself.”
“Well, look out for me next Sunday, then. I’ve more than half made up my mind there’s something in it, after all. Nobody can deny it has worked a wonderful change in Dan Harte,” and Mr. Vance walked hastily away.
“And we declare unto you glad tidings.”
“And we declare unto you glad tidings.”
Therewas to be a Sabbath School concert, quite an elaborate one, and both girls and boys were interested to make it a success.
“What do you mean by ‘success’?” asked Miss Marvin of her class who were eagerly discussing the parts assigned them.
“Oh! get lots of people here and have ’em say it’s grand—tip-top,” said Varney Lowe.
“To go ahead of all the other churches,” said Bell Forbush.
“Not to have one single failure,” added Nettie Rand.
Miss Marvin shook her head smilingly.
“Real success means more than that,” she said. “You are going to tell once more the ‘old, old story.’ There will be people herenot so familiar with it as you and I may be. Which will you aim to have them remember,—the manner or the matter?”
The girls looked doubtfully at each other, but the closing exercises prevented further remark. The class, however, remained after school to decide when and where to meet for rehearsals.
“You must all come to my home every other night,” said Bell decidedly.
“I’m afraid—perhaps—I thought Miss Marvin didn’t approve,” suggested Sue.
“Indeed I do; you cannot take too much pains to speak clearly and correctly. Shall I explain what I did mean? Suppose you make a feast for your friends, and they pronounce it the best they ever ate. At the same time, you find a poor man starving close by your door. You may give him never so little, but you feed him tenderly, and save his life. Which will give you the most satisfaction,—the thought of that, or the praises of your friends?”
“That, of course,” said Varney Lowe.“It’s so splendid to save anybody’s life. Heroes always do.”
“Well, you are preparing for your friends a feast of good things from God’s storehouse of truth. You cannot serve it too royally or arrange it too attractively; but remember, there will be souls here, starving, absolutely dying,—although they may not believe it themselves,—for the bread of life. Would it not be the truest success to feed one such soul with the crumb you are each to bring?”
“Nobody ever noticeswhatwe say,” interrupted Bell, rather flippantly.
“There are two things I wish you would do this week,” continued Miss Marvin, without noticing the interruption; “one is, to invite your parents to come——”
“I most think father will, this time,” put in Dick, his face all aglow.
Mr. Vance had been to church for several Sabbaths.
“Of course we shall ask them, we always do,” said Nettie Rand.
“And will you also ask your Heavenly Father to be here and help you to speak the words so plainly and earnestly as to make them stepping-stones by which somebody shall get nearer to Himself,—somebody perhaps, who has not even started heavenward?”
Will Carter shrugged his shoulders, and turned away. There was only one faint “Yes’m.”
“Can you tell me,” said Miss Marvin pleasantly, “why this is more strange or difficult to do than the other? Remember, if we reallywantthat best kind of success, and ask God for it, we shall surely have it.”
Maybee and her dearest girl-friend, Nanny Carter, stood close by waiting, as usual, for Sue. Nanny was busily talking:—
“You haven’t seen my new bronze boots, an’ there’s my beautiful brown an’ gold stockings; won’t they lookel-egant up there on the platform? and aren’t you glad we’re all to dress in white? Shall you wear a brown sash? it’ssofashionable, and whichdoyou think’ll look best for me, pink or red flowers?”
“I don’t know,” said Maybee absently. “But isn’t it queer—about the stepping-stones, and helping folks? Don’t you wish we could?”
“Could what?” asked Nanny, who hadn’t heard a single word.
“Why, our verses,—make ’em stones, you know, to help folks along. Just s’pose, now, everybody’s verse was a really, truly stone, how thick they’d be, and p’raps lots more folks would go to heaven. I mean to ask Him.”
“Ask—who—what? You’re dreadfully poky to-day. I shall go and walk with Will,” said Nanny; and for once Maybee did not coax her back, she was so busy thinking.
She kept thinking, too, all the week. Never did she learn a piece so thoroughly, or take more pains to recite it loud and distinctly.
“It can’t help anybody ’thout they canhear it, course,” she said when Sue praised her. “An’ please don’t put on my bib-collar with the crinkly lace be-cause I can’t help thinking ’bout it—it’s so lov-er-ly, you know; an’ I want to think ’bout the folks who don’t love God. I’ve asked Him to make my verses help ’em. Have you?”
“Oh, dear, no! I forget all about it only when Miss Marvin is talking,” said Sue sorrowfully.
“I s’pose that’s why there isn’t more stepping-stones to help folks up to heaven,—’cause other folks forget, don’t you? But you might ask Him now before we go, you know.”
So they knelt down together, and two earnest little prayers went up into God’s great, loving ear.
Even talkative Nanny felt the influence of Maybee’s quiet, happy face, as the classes took their respective seats, and listened attentively while the superintendent read a chapter and the pastor prayed.
Then the school sang the hymn beginning,—
“Our joyful notes we gladly raise,To Him whose name we love.”
“Our joyful notes we gladly raise,To Him whose name we love.”
“Our joyful notes we gladly raise,To Him whose name we love.”
“Our joyful notes we gladly raise,
To Him whose name we love.”
After which the superintendent announced the subject of the concert by reading the following anecdote.
“And in his name shall the Gentiles trust.”
“And in his name shall the Gentiles trust.”
“NONE OTHER NAME.
“FROM THE GERMAN, BY H. H. H.
“A blindman sat before the door of his hut and read in his Bible. He did not read with his eyes, but with his fingers. With his fingers? Exactly so. Blind people have an unusually keen sense of feeling, so that books have been printed for these unfortunate ones with letters which stand out from the page. In an incredibly short space of time they learn the different forms of the letters so thoroughly that as their fingers swiftly follow the lines, their mouths pronounce syllables, words, and sentences. Of course this requires much toil and much patience.
“My reader will now believe what I said,that the blind man who sat before his hut was reading his Bible. Many people, old and young, stood near and listened to him with amazement. A gentleman who was passing was attracted by curiosity and reached the place just as the blind man who was reading in Acts iv., had apparently lost his place. While he was searching the lines with his fingers he repeated several times the words, ‘None other name—none other name—none other name!’
“Several of the bystanders laughed at the bewilderment of the blind man, but the strange gentleman, sunk in deep thought, left the place at once. For several weeks the grace of God had been working in the mind of this man, and had awakened in him the consciousness that he was a sinner. In vain had he tried one way after another to bring peace and rest to his heart. All his religious work, his good resolutions, his altered life,—nothing had availed to free his conscience from so unendurable a burden and to make his heart truly happy.
“In this frame of mind he had drawn near to the blind man, and like the sound of solemn music these words had struck upon his ear, ‘None other name!’ And as he reached his home and sat down to rest, the words rang still in his soul like the sound of distant bells, ‘None other name—none other name!’ The longer he meditated upon these wonderful words, the brighter glimmered the light of grace in his heart, hitherto so unquiet, so that at last he cried out in wonder and delight, ‘Now I understand it, now I see it! I have sought my salvation in my own works, in my prayers, in my own improvement. Now I see my error clearly. Only Jesus can save and bless. Henceforth I will look to Him. Beside Him there is no way of life,’ ‘for there is none other name—none other name—none other name under heaven given among men whereby we must be saved!’”
The moment the superintendent paused the school began singing,—
“There is no name so sweet on earth,No name so sweet in heaven,—The name, before his wondrous birth,To Christ, the Saviour, given.We love to sing around our King,And hail him blessed Jesus;For there’s no word ear ever heard,So dear, so sweet as Jesus.”
“There is no name so sweet on earth,No name so sweet in heaven,—The name, before his wondrous birth,To Christ, the Saviour, given.We love to sing around our King,And hail him blessed Jesus;For there’s no word ear ever heard,So dear, so sweet as Jesus.”
“There is no name so sweet on earth,No name so sweet in heaven,—The name, before his wondrous birth,To Christ, the Saviour, given.We love to sing around our King,And hail him blessed Jesus;For there’s no word ear ever heard,So dear, so sweet as Jesus.”
“There is no name so sweet on earth,
No name so sweet in heaven,—
The name, before his wondrous birth,
To Christ, the Saviour, given.
We love to sing around our King,
And hail him blessed Jesus;
For there’s no word ear ever heard,
So dear, so sweet as Jesus.”
And then Maybee, slowly, earnestly, and so clearly not a word was lost, repeated the first verse of the hymn,—
“I love to hear the storyWhich angel voices tell,How once the King of gloryCame down on earth to dwell.I am both weak and sinful,But this I surely know,—The Lord came down to save meBecause He loved me so.”
“I love to hear the storyWhich angel voices tell,How once the King of gloryCame down on earth to dwell.I am both weak and sinful,But this I surely know,—The Lord came down to save meBecause He loved me so.”
“I love to hear the storyWhich angel voices tell,How once the King of gloryCame down on earth to dwell.I am both weak and sinful,But this I surely know,—The Lord came down to save meBecause He loved me so.”
“I love to hear the story
Which angel voices tell,
How once the King of glory
Came down on earth to dwell.
I am both weak and sinful,
But this I surely know,—
The Lord came down to save me
Because He loved me so.”
Like a low, sweet echo, the whole class of little girls began singing,—
“Jesus loves me, this I knowFor the Bible tells me so;Little ones to him belong,They are weak, but He is strong.”
“Jesus loves me, this I knowFor the Bible tells me so;Little ones to him belong,They are weak, but He is strong.”
“Jesus loves me, this I knowFor the Bible tells me so;Little ones to him belong,They are weak, but He is strong.”
“Jesus loves me, this I know
For the Bible tells me so;
Little ones to him belong,
They are weak, but He is strong.”
Then Maybee went on,—
“I’m glad my blessed SaviourWas once a child like me,To show how pure and holyHis little ones might be;And if I try to followHis footsteps here below,He never will forget meBecause He loved me so.”
“I’m glad my blessed SaviourWas once a child like me,To show how pure and holyHis little ones might be;And if I try to followHis footsteps here below,He never will forget meBecause He loved me so.”
“I’m glad my blessed SaviourWas once a child like me,To show how pure and holyHis little ones might be;
“I’m glad my blessed Saviour
Was once a child like me,
To show how pure and holy
His little ones might be;
And if I try to followHis footsteps here below,He never will forget meBecause He loved me so.”
And if I try to follow
His footsteps here below,
He never will forget me
Because He loved me so.”
And the class sang again,—
“Jesus loves me, He will stayClose besides me all the way,If I love Him, when I dieHe will take me home on high.”
“Jesus loves me, He will stayClose besides me all the way,If I love Him, when I dieHe will take me home on high.”
“Jesus loves me, He will stayClose besides me all the way,If I love Him, when I dieHe will take me home on high.”
“Jesus loves me, He will stay
Close besides me all the way,
If I love Him, when I die
He will take me home on high.”
Maybee:—
“To sing His love and mercyOur sweetest songs we’ll raise,And though we cannot see HimWe know He hears our praise;For He has kindly promisedThat we shall surely goTo sing among His angelsBecause He loves me so.”
“To sing His love and mercyOur sweetest songs we’ll raise,And though we cannot see HimWe know He hears our praise;For He has kindly promisedThat we shall surely goTo sing among His angelsBecause He loves me so.”
“To sing His love and mercyOur sweetest songs we’ll raise,And though we cannot see HimWe know He hears our praise;For He has kindly promisedThat we shall surely goTo sing among His angelsBecause He loves me so.”
“To sing His love and mercy
Our sweetest songs we’ll raise,
And though we cannot see Him
We know He hears our praise;
For He has kindly promised
That we shall surely go
To sing among His angels
Because He loves me so.”
Class, singing:—
“Jesus loves me, He who diedHeaven’s gate to open wide,He will wash away our sin,Let His little child come in.”
“Jesus loves me, He who diedHeaven’s gate to open wide,He will wash away our sin,Let His little child come in.”
“Jesus loves me, He who diedHeaven’s gate to open wide,He will wash away our sin,Let His little child come in.”
“Jesus loves me, He who died
Heaven’s gate to open wide,
He will wash away our sin,
Let His little child come in.”
And as the last note died away, the choir took up the sweet refrain and softly chanted,
“Behold what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us that we should be called the sons of God.”
Mr. Vance, who had listened indifferently to the prayer and reading, leaned eagerly forward as Maybee’s clear, earnest tones fell on his ear; but when the class took their seats, and Dick looked around inquiringly, his father’s head was bowed on the front of the pew. Asleep, was he? Dick thought so, with a keen pang of disappointment.
Recitation followed recitation. At the last came Sue Sherman, trembling a little, for Sue was very timid, but with a strong hope in her heart that God would remember her prayer.
[RECITED BY SUE SHERMAN.]
“But the Lord is the true God, he is the living God and an everlasting king.”
“But the Lord is the true God, he is the living God and an everlasting king.”
I have a Friend, a precious Friend, unchanging, wise, and true,The chief among ten thousand. Oh, that you knew Him too!When all the woes that wait on me relax each feeble limb,I know who waits to welcome me. Have you a friend like Him?He comforts me, He strengthens me. How can I then repine?He loveth me. This faithful Friend in life and death is mine!I have a Father, true and fond. He cares for all my needs;His patience bore my faithless ways, my mad and foolish deeds.To me He sends sweet messages, He waiteth but to bless.Have you a father like to mine in such deep tenderness?For me a kingdom doth He keep, for me a crown is won.I was a rebel once: He calls the rebel child His son.I have a proved, unerring Guide, whose love I often grieve;He brings me golden promises my heart can scarce receive;He leadeth me, and hope and cheer doth for my path provideFor dreary nights and days of drought. Have you so sure a guide?Quench not the faintest whisper that the heavenly dove may bring:He seeks with holy love to lure the wanderer ’neath His wing.I have ahome,—a home so bright its beauties none can know;Its sapphire pavement and such palms none ever saw below;Its golden streets resound with joy; its pearly gates with praise;A temple standeth in the midst no human hands could raise;And there unfailing fountains flow, and pleasures never end.Who makes that home so glorious? It is my loving Friend.My Friend, my Father, and my Guide, and this our radiant homeAre offered you. Turn not away!To-dayI pray you “Come.”My Father yearns to welcome you His heart, His house to share;My Friend is yours, my home is yours, my Guide will lead you there.Behold One altogether fair, the faithful and the true!He pleadeth with you for your love; He gave His life foryou.Oh, leave the worthless things you seek! they perish in a day.Serve now the true and living God, from idols turn away.Watch for the Lord, who comes to reign; enter the open door;Give Him thine heart, thy broken heart: thou’lt ask it back no more.Trust Him for grace and strength and love, and all your troubles end.Oh, come to Jesus! and behold in Him a loving Friend.
I have a Friend, a precious Friend, unchanging, wise, and true,The chief among ten thousand. Oh, that you knew Him too!When all the woes that wait on me relax each feeble limb,I know who waits to welcome me. Have you a friend like Him?He comforts me, He strengthens me. How can I then repine?He loveth me. This faithful Friend in life and death is mine!I have a Father, true and fond. He cares for all my needs;His patience bore my faithless ways, my mad and foolish deeds.To me He sends sweet messages, He waiteth but to bless.Have you a father like to mine in such deep tenderness?For me a kingdom doth He keep, for me a crown is won.I was a rebel once: He calls the rebel child His son.I have a proved, unerring Guide, whose love I often grieve;He brings me golden promises my heart can scarce receive;He leadeth me, and hope and cheer doth for my path provideFor dreary nights and days of drought. Have you so sure a guide?Quench not the faintest whisper that the heavenly dove may bring:He seeks with holy love to lure the wanderer ’neath His wing.I have ahome,—a home so bright its beauties none can know;Its sapphire pavement and such palms none ever saw below;Its golden streets resound with joy; its pearly gates with praise;A temple standeth in the midst no human hands could raise;And there unfailing fountains flow, and pleasures never end.Who makes that home so glorious? It is my loving Friend.My Friend, my Father, and my Guide, and this our radiant homeAre offered you. Turn not away!To-dayI pray you “Come.”My Father yearns to welcome you His heart, His house to share;My Friend is yours, my home is yours, my Guide will lead you there.Behold One altogether fair, the faithful and the true!He pleadeth with you for your love; He gave His life foryou.Oh, leave the worthless things you seek! they perish in a day.Serve now the true and living God, from idols turn away.Watch for the Lord, who comes to reign; enter the open door;Give Him thine heart, thy broken heart: thou’lt ask it back no more.Trust Him for grace and strength and love, and all your troubles end.Oh, come to Jesus! and behold in Him a loving Friend.
I have a Friend, a precious Friend, unchanging, wise, and true,The chief among ten thousand. Oh, that you knew Him too!When all the woes that wait on me relax each feeble limb,I know who waits to welcome me. Have you a friend like Him?He comforts me, He strengthens me. How can I then repine?He loveth me. This faithful Friend in life and death is mine!
I have a Friend, a precious Friend, unchanging, wise, and true,
The chief among ten thousand. Oh, that you knew Him too!
When all the woes that wait on me relax each feeble limb,
I know who waits to welcome me. Have you a friend like Him?
He comforts me, He strengthens me. How can I then repine?
He loveth me. This faithful Friend in life and death is mine!
I have a Father, true and fond. He cares for all my needs;His patience bore my faithless ways, my mad and foolish deeds.To me He sends sweet messages, He waiteth but to bless.Have you a father like to mine in such deep tenderness?For me a kingdom doth He keep, for me a crown is won.I was a rebel once: He calls the rebel child His son.
I have a Father, true and fond. He cares for all my needs;
His patience bore my faithless ways, my mad and foolish deeds.
To me He sends sweet messages, He waiteth but to bless.
Have you a father like to mine in such deep tenderness?
For me a kingdom doth He keep, for me a crown is won.
I was a rebel once: He calls the rebel child His son.
I have a proved, unerring Guide, whose love I often grieve;He brings me golden promises my heart can scarce receive;He leadeth me, and hope and cheer doth for my path provideFor dreary nights and days of drought. Have you so sure a guide?Quench not the faintest whisper that the heavenly dove may bring:He seeks with holy love to lure the wanderer ’neath His wing.
I have a proved, unerring Guide, whose love I often grieve;
He brings me golden promises my heart can scarce receive;
He leadeth me, and hope and cheer doth for my path provide
For dreary nights and days of drought. Have you so sure a guide?
Quench not the faintest whisper that the heavenly dove may bring:
He seeks with holy love to lure the wanderer ’neath His wing.
I have ahome,—a home so bright its beauties none can know;Its sapphire pavement and such palms none ever saw below;Its golden streets resound with joy; its pearly gates with praise;A temple standeth in the midst no human hands could raise;And there unfailing fountains flow, and pleasures never end.Who makes that home so glorious? It is my loving Friend.
I have ahome,—a home so bright its beauties none can know;
Its sapphire pavement and such palms none ever saw below;
Its golden streets resound with joy; its pearly gates with praise;
A temple standeth in the midst no human hands could raise;
And there unfailing fountains flow, and pleasures never end.
Who makes that home so glorious? It is my loving Friend.
My Friend, my Father, and my Guide, and this our radiant homeAre offered you. Turn not away!To-dayI pray you “Come.”My Father yearns to welcome you His heart, His house to share;My Friend is yours, my home is yours, my Guide will lead you there.Behold One altogether fair, the faithful and the true!He pleadeth with you for your love; He gave His life foryou.
My Friend, my Father, and my Guide, and this our radiant home
Are offered you. Turn not away!To-dayI pray you “Come.”
My Father yearns to welcome you His heart, His house to share;
My Friend is yours, my home is yours, my Guide will lead you there.
Behold One altogether fair, the faithful and the true!
He pleadeth with you for your love; He gave His life foryou.
Oh, leave the worthless things you seek! they perish in a day.Serve now the true and living God, from idols turn away.Watch for the Lord, who comes to reign; enter the open door;Give Him thine heart, thy broken heart: thou’lt ask it back no more.Trust Him for grace and strength and love, and all your troubles end.Oh, come to Jesus! and behold in Him a loving Friend.
Oh, leave the worthless things you seek! they perish in a day.
Serve now the true and living God, from idols turn away.
Watch for the Lord, who comes to reign; enter the open door;
Give Him thine heart, thy broken heart: thou’lt ask it back no more.
Trust Him for grace and strength and love, and all your troubles end.
Oh, come to Jesus! and behold in Him a loving Friend.
As the school began the closing hymn, Mr. Vance took his hat and slipped quietly out. All the evening Maybee’s words had been ringing in his ear,—
“The Lord came down to save meBecause He loved me so.”
“The Lord came down to save meBecause He loved me so.”
“The Lord came down to save meBecause He loved me so.”
“The Lord came down to save me
Because He loved me so.”
And now, as he walked slowly down the street, he found himself repeating, “Noneother name,none other name.” Back and forth, past the farm-house gate, he paced; then striding hastily through the garden and orchard, he flung himself on the grass, under a clump of maples.
“My Friend, my Father, and my Guide, and this our radiant homeAre offered you. Turn not away!To-dayI pray you ‘Come!’”
“My Friend, my Father, and my Guide, and this our radiant homeAre offered you. Turn not away!To-dayI pray you ‘Come!’”
“My Friend, my Father, and my Guide, and this our radiant homeAre offered you. Turn not away!To-dayI pray you ‘Come!’”
“My Friend, my Father, and my Guide, and this our radiant home
Are offered you. Turn not away!To-dayI pray you ‘Come!’”
He would settle the matternow. Big drops of perspiration stood on his forehead. He heard the little gate shut. Dick had come home; he and his mother would be anxious; but still the man sat motionless. The proud heart was so unwilling to own he had been mistaken, that he needed a Guide, that the “living God” had any claim upon him.
Fifteen minutes—twenty—half an hour. Mrs. Vance looked up as her husband entered the door, her questioning eyes met his; he answered her with a smile and the words from Sue’s hymn,—
“I was a rebel once; He calls the rebel child His son.”
“I was a rebel once; He calls the rebel child His son.”
“I was a rebel once; He calls the rebel child His son.”
“I was a rebel once; He calls the rebel child His son.”
How glad Sue and Maybee will always be that they asked God to make “stepping-stones” of their verses for somebody, and that the somebody was Dick’s father!
“Stand fast, therefore, in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free, and be not entangled again with the yoke of bondage.”
“Stand fast, therefore, in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free, and be not entangled again with the yoke of bondage.”
Youwould suppose, now, Dick would be more in earnest than ever; but we all have to learn that when circumstances are most favorable and pleasant is the very time Satan will contrive to lay a temptation in our way and trip us if he can. For some time Dick had been very regular at the prayer-meeting. The boys sneered and laughed, but Dick had never minded, and now that his father went with him and Deacon Carter frequently commended his perseverance, and even the minister occasionally added a word of approval, Dick began to pride himself on the fact.
“Remember, we go against the Lyntown Winners to-morrow night. Don’t fail us for the world!” said Tom Lawrence to him oneday. Dick was decidedly the best player in the base-ball club.
“I must,” said Dick, “because I can’t get back in time for our meeting.”
Possibly Dick did not know how grand a tone he assumed.
“Ourmeeting!” mimicked Tom. “S’pose they couldn’t run the thing without his lordship. I say, Dick, it will be a shame! Carter’ll be hopping mad.”
“I can’t help it. Carter knows nothing will take me awaythatnight!” and Dick walked rather consequentially off, quite right in his refusal, but entirely wrong in the spirit of it.
“Won’t, hey!” muttered Tom. “We’ll see!”
Somehow Dick did not enjoy the meeting that evening half as much as usual. He would keep thinking about the “base-ball players,” wondering which side had come out ahead, what kind of new uniforms the “Winners” had, and how soon the “Catapults” could afford the same.
It was queer, after that, how many things happened on Thursday night. All the croquet parties, the boating, fishing, riding. Perhaps Tom could have explained the “happen,”—Tom and Will Carter.
The prayer-meetings grew duller and duller to Dick. There were only a few there regularly, and they always said the same thing. Dea. Carter’s prayers were dreadfully long, and the minister talked as if he never would stop. And then the minister must go and start a young people’s meeting on Tuesday evening. Tuesday, Thursday, and a Bible-class Saturday nights! What was he thinking of? As if it wasn’t hard enough to bone down to rules and walk Spanish all day long without having every other minute full of prayer-meetings and that sort of thing. Dick’s father, too, as if to make amends for the long, prayerless years, had prayers twice a day. Dea. Carter only had them in the morning. Really, it seemed as if duty was leading poor Dick a slave’s life.
“Be over to the Squire’s, to-morrow night I suppose?” said Tom, the day before the annual party given by Esq. Ellis to the young people in “peach time.”
“Yes, after meeting. I must do my sums before that. May get over in time for the spread,” rejoined Dick somewhat dubiously.
“Pho! that won’t answer. Didn’t you know the Squire had set up half a dozen croquet sets, and we’re to be prompt at six o’clock? The best player has some sort of a gim-crack, and nobody stands half a chance beside you. I told the Squire so. He’ll think you backed out. Most likely Carter’ll come in next. Better be on hand.”
“Well, perhaps. I’ll think it over.”
And Dick thought it over,—how Dea. Phelps and Dr. Sault and Mr. Bugbee were very seldom at the prayer-meeting; how many church-members never came at all; how even Miss Cox stayed away for lectures and concerts. How many of us, young and old, like Dea. Phelps and Mr. Bugbee and Miss Cox, will find, away on in eternity, thatwe have helped somebody to just such a wrong decision as Dick came to!
He was on the croquet-grounds precisely at six, and played his best. The Squire applauded vociferously, and there was no end of complimentary remarks, enough to turn an older head than Dick’s.
“Worst of it is, I stayed too late,” he said to Tom the next morning; “and there’s those examples,—not a single one done. Had to help father every blessed minute after I got up.”
“Never mind, here’s my key. Just copy ’em right out,—everybody does. Don’t be squeamish now; just for once, you know.”
“Pity to fail, so near the end of the term,” said Will Carter. Will would not have used a key for the world; he was very particular on such points; but he had not the least scruple about tempting Dick to forfeit his honor. And after a little hesitation, Dick yielded.
Once it would have seemed cute and quite the thing to deceive Mr. Blackman; now, it made him feel mean and uneasy, especiallywhen that gentleman remarked, “I think you are almost sure to take the prize in mathematics, Dick.”
But for that remark, however, I don’t believe Dick would ever have touched the horrid old key again. As it was, Tomwouldlay it so “handy,” and Satan was sure to raise a doubt in Dick’s mind about the correctness of a certain multiple or divisor. Just one glance would determine; and so the glances multiplied and divided into a very common denominator.
“You’ll be over to base ball to-night, won’t you?” asked Tom one Thursday morning, not long after.
“Of course he will,” remarked Will Carter passing by, “or he’ll be turned out of the Catapults;that’ssure.”
Turned out! just as they’d got their new uniforms! Of course he must go.
“And look here,” continued Tom, “didn’t you see me have a paper, my grammar exercise, in my hand all finished, when we came over the marsh yesterday?”
“No, I didn’t,” said Dick. “You said you hadn’t once thought of it.”
“Oh, fudge, now! What a poor memory! Why, man, don’t you remember seeing me lose it? slipped on the stones, you know. Come now, if you don’t, Blackman’ll keep me in to-night, sure as pop.”
“But you wouldn’t have me tell a lie, I hope?”
“Oh, no;wedon’t do such thingsnow,we’retoo good,—only when it comes to them examples,” said Tom, forgetting the practical part of his grammar. “But mind, now, if you don’t trump up something to get me off—you used to be up to that sort of thing—I’ll let on to Blackman all about that key; and then where’s your prize?”
Dick turned it over and over in his mind as he walked slowly home at noon.
“My guesses you doesn’t know what this is,” called Tod from his father’s steps, holding up a leathern belt with something like shoulder-straps attached.
“No; what is it?” said Dick absently.
“It’s what my mamma used to tied me up wif, when my was vewy little, so my wouldn’t eat gween apples and curwants an’ goo-woose-berries. Her don’t have to, now.”
“Why not? Don’t you like ’em?”
“Yes, but my likes my mamma better-er; an’ her says th’ other fings is weal much nicer, so my doesn’t want ’em. Here’s anover some-fing,”—Tod was helping Jackson overhaul the tool-room. “It’s to catch fings in; and once my mamma said, my mustn’t touch, an’ my did, and it pinched—awful. My couldn’t get away one bit; the more my pulled, the tighter-er it wouldn’t let go.”
“Quite a lesson for you and me in all that,” remarked Miss Marvin, overtaking and walking along with Dick.
“Was there?”
“Yes; did you never think how full Moses’ law is, of ‘Thou shalt not’s’? while Jesus’ commands are,Dothis and that ‘because you love me.’ The Jews were likechildren, knowing so little about God they had to be ‘tied up,’ as it were, with strict laws; but when Christ came, He set His people free from rites and ceremonies, and madelovethe motive power. And that trap reminded me how Satan catches and holds us,—the ‘tighter-er’ the more we try to get away, you know.”
Yes, Dick knew. He, Satan, was holding him fast now, at least Tom Lawrence was, for him; and if he tried to get away, oh, how hard it would pull! How did he ever come to put his hand in?
“Miss Marvin,” he broke out suddenly, “if we love God shall we like to do everything He tells us?”
“I think so, when we love Him with all our hearts.”
“But—there’s the prayer-meetings, you know. Don’t they ever seem dull and tiresome to you?”
“Yes,” said Miss Marvin frankly. “I think God knew His service would sometimes conflict with our selfish and worldly heartswhen He said, ‘Take myyokeupon you’; a yoke, more or lessrestrainsand compels; but almost in the same breath He added, ‘My yoke is easy.’ You and I, who once wore Satan’s yoke, know that Christ’s is easy, in comparison, don’t we, Dick? And the more we love Him the easier it becomes.”
“Yes,—I mean I did,” stammered Dick when she paused for a reply. “You see, I used to go to meeting, at first, because I loved to, but lately it’s been more because Ihadto. I’ve just left the love right out, andthat’swhere I fell in. Miss Marvin, please excuse me. I don’t dare wait a minute for fear it’ll pull so hard I sha’n’t get clear away.”
He ran down the street to Mr. Blackman’s, surprised that gentleman at dinner, made a full confession, and although with no hope of winning the prize, went away happier than he had been for weeks.
“Got that little thing all arranged for me?” asked Tom, with a wink, as they went up the school-house steps together.
“No, Tom. I don’t wonder you thought I could lie or do anything, but I’m just going to begin all over again,” said Dick meekly.
“No objections, I suppose, to my telling Mr. Blackman a few things to start with?”
“Not in the least, Tom, for I’ve told him the whole story myself. And I don’t mean to draw, in that ‘yoke’ again right away.”
“I came to Troas to preach Christ’s gospel, and a door was opened unto me of the Lord.”
“I came to Troas to preach Christ’s gospel, and a door was opened unto me of the Lord.”
Thetemperance wave sweeping over the country sent a little ripple into our quiet village of Whithaven. There were a few meetings held, a few beer-saloons closed, a small amount of earnest, personal effort, and then the tide of evil flowed on, stronger, if anything, than before.
“Patient, persevering effort—where is it to come from?” said Dr. Helps, despairingly.
“From the wives and daughters,” said Miss Marvin, hopefully. “We will pray and work in our quiet way, trusting God for the result. Poor aunty is almost heart-broken over Warren’s disgrace. You knowhe was picked up drunk on the street last week.”
So the ladies met weekly, not for discussion, but for prayer; they reorganized the children’s “Band of Hope,” they talked temperance at their tea-parties; and it was Miss Marvin’s suggestion that each member of the Sabbath School should try to get one new name on their pledge a week. Even the smallest scholar had his printed pledge with a pencil attached.
“I shall never dare ask anybody who drinks,” said Sue Sherman.
Maybee said nothing. That some grave matter was working behind the troubled little forehead, mamma knew very well, but she was quite willing her little girl should solve the problem herself if she could.
The secret was this: Waiting in the post-office one day, Maybee overheard one gentleman say to another, “So Dan Harte’s been drinking again? How did it happen?”
“Oh, he was at work for ’Squire Ellis, had a slight ill turn, and was dosed with liquorthe first thing. To use Dan’s own words, it set him on fire. He couldn’t eat nor sleep till he’d been down to Caffrey’s and drank himself dead drunk.”
“All over with him now, isn’t it?”
“I don’t think so. He seems more determined than ever. But there’s no safety for such poor fellows unless we can put the temptation quite out of their way.”
“Which you won’t be likely to do at present. Of course the ’squire didn’t mean any harm?”
“Oh, no! and he didn’t mean any harm to Warren Forbush, I suppose.”
“It’s a pity about him. There wasn’t a finer young man anywhere round when he graduated last fall; talented, too.”
“Yes; and that gay new billiard-room on Pleasant Street is doing for him exactly what Caffrey’s did for poor Harte; but, mind you, he took hisfirstglass at the ’squire’s last New Year’s. He visits there frequently now; the ’squire has an adopted daughter, you know. That affair last week may open her eyes to themischief their wines are working. What’s the use battling against whiskey and lager beer, and letting wine and ale alone? I believe in trying to save even the poorest specimen of humanity, but I tell you, all the while the best blood in our country is going to fill drunkards’ graves.”
“I’ll get ’Squire Ellis to sign my pledge,” thought Maybee, her black eyes flashing with her new-born purpose.
But how? That was the problem.
The two families did not even exchange calls. The ’squire had some trouble, years ago, with his brother, Say Ellis’s father, in which Mr. Sherman had been involved.
Maybee walked around by the big store and looked in. Could she ever speak to the big, broad-shouldered man, ordering, overseeing, directing, with his sharp eye and quick, decided utterance?
The next night she coaxed Tod around that way.
“Suppose we go in,” she ventured.
“No, mywon’t,” rejoined Tod, emphatically.
Evidently she need expect no help from that quarter.
“If I could meet him on the street,” she thought; but the portly business man passed her as indifferently as he did the hand-organ on the next corner.
Every day, for two weeks, she extended her walk past the big store on her way to and from school. Every night after her usual prayer went up the whispered petition, “Please, dear Father, show me how.”
At last she made a confidant of Sue.
“Mercy on me! Nobody ever could, and besides, you won’t have any chance.”
Quite crushed by this chilling response, Maybee fled to mamma.
“He’d ought to; he’s hurting folks when he don’t know it,” she sobbed. “Won’t you or papa or some big body ask him to please stop?”
“May be,” said mamma, wiping away the tears, “it is this little body’s special work, and if it is, God will provide a way. When He has a work for us to do He always opensthe door. Only be patient, and watch and wait.”
A week or two afterwards, Tod, neat and clean as a pin, started for papa’s shop. Esq. Ellis stood in his store door. It had been an unusually profitable day, and the merchant was in the best of humor.
“Well, my little man, where are you bound?” he smilingly remarked, as Tod came along.
“My isn’tyourlittle man. Her said my was, but my isn’t; and my isn’t a beggar neither,” rejoined Tod, straightening up.
“Well, ’pon my word! if it isn’t the little fellow who wanted fifty cents one day, and I was in such a hurry—”
“Own-y-to-ny papas stop hurwying when their little boys ask weal hard,” persisted Tod.
The merchant’s lip quivered: there came to him so suddenly the touch of little fingers hidden away in the grave for more than twenty years, the sound of childish voices to which he had never answered “Nay.” Hesat down on the steps and drew Tod to him.
“I used to love little boys,” he said, huskily, “but it’s so many years ago. Will you tell me your name, and come and dine with me some day?”
“But my shall be my own papa’s little boy.”
“Yes, yes; but you could come and see me because I haven’t any little boys. You shall have something nice.”
“Choc’late ca’mels and ice-cweam?”
“Yes, and I’ll send the carriage for you,—let me see, to-morrow. Wait a minute and I’ll write mamma a note.”
“Can’t Maybee come too?”
“Who is Maybee?”
“Why, don’t you know Maybee Sherman, my cousin?” asked Tod, in astonishment.
“Sherman, Sherman? Oh, well! she’s only a small chip, and it is time bygones were bygones. Yes, I’ll write Maybee’s mamma a note, too.”
Wasn’t Tod on tiptoe with expectation, and didn’t he and Maybee sit back so straight in the grand carriage, behind the colored driver, as almost to break their dear little necks? And how splendid everything was,—the pictures, the fountains and flowers, the china and silver, Mrs. Ellis in her silk and laces, Miss Georgiana with her diamond rings and soft, slender hands.
“I wonder if I dare,” thought Maybee, her heart giving a sudden bound as the waiter came in with the dainty tray of wine-glasses. “If you please, Mr. ’Squire, would you—so other folks wouldn’t—’cause they can’t help it,” she broke out earnestly, slipping her little pledge on top of the glass her host was raising to his lips.
“What? How? Nonsense! What does such a little midget as you know about such things?”
“Please—Idoknow; it’s soverybad. You see, they were both drunk,—Phosy’s father and Bell Forbush’s big brother; an’ he’s so nice; an’ you’ve only to write yourname under there, and never give anybody any more.”
If she had coupled Dan Harte with Walter Forbush! But she had said “Phosy’s father.” The ’squire looked at his daughter. She leaned forward, with crimsoning cheeks.
“We have wanted so much not to use it any more,” she said in a low tone.
He turned to his wife.
“I think it would be better every way,” she ventured. She would never have dreamed of making the suggestion, knowing how hard and selfish the worldly heart had grown, missing the touch of those baby fingers.
Walter Forbush and Dan Harte! He coupled them now in his own mind. Was it a common weakness, and would the one ever sink as low as the other? Supposehisboys had lived—and been tempted? Even old Dan Harte was once somebody’s boy, fair and promising.
“Take the wine away,” he said to the waiter, at the same time picking up Maybee’slittle pencil and writing his name in full under the simple promise.
“I knew there’d be a ‘door,’ somewhere! Mamma said God could make one,” said Maybee, joyously. “And to think you ’vited me your own self!”
“And he hath put a new song in my mouth, even praise unto our God: many shall see it and fear, and shall trust in the Lord.”
“And he hath put a new song in my mouth, even praise unto our God: many shall see it and fear, and shall trust in the Lord.”
“It’scoming up fast!”
“Work lively, boys! Do your best and you shan’t be sorry.”
How they raked—great, heaping winrows! How they tossed—huge fork-fulls, half covering the men on the loads! How they hurried the fat, lazy horses and slow, plodding oxen hither and thither across the fields!
Meanwhile the low muttering of the thunder grew louder and louder, and large drops of rain came thicker and faster.
“Pitch on what you can and make for the barn,” called out farmer Vance. “It’s no use trying for the rest, and we’ve got the heft of it. Drive up! Steady, Joe!”
“I reckon there’d a been some pretty tallswearing if the shower’d come fifteen minutes sooner,” said one of the men, swinging his coat over his shoulder and walking leisurely after.
“Vance may do a little in that line yet,” rejoined another, who was shouldering rakes, forks, and a pile of hay-caps. “Look at that load, will you? Just a lee-tle—there it goes!”
A stone on one side, a slight depression on the other, the unwieldy mass swayed, toppled, and slid to the ground, carrying with it the driver and Dan Harte, who floundered out of the drift as the rain began to fall in torrents.
“Now look out for breakers! Take Dan and Vance together, they’ll make it hot for Joe.”
These two had helped the farmer through more than one haying season, and were accustomed to the passionate outbreaks of a naturally quick temper.
“An’ if there’s one thing more aggravatin’ than another it’s to have a lot of hay, jest in complete order, get a right down soakin’,”remarked the first speaker, as they hurried up to the scene of the disaster.
Joe, the driver, was staring bewilderedly around; Dan had already seized a pitchfork; the farmer stood by the horses’ heads.
“You ought to have looked out for that low place,” he was saying. “Where were your eyes, Joe? Never mind now, the mischief’s done. Scrabble up, and drive on with what’s left,—no use crying for spilt milk. We’ll pick up the pieces some other time. It’s coming, boys! Into the barn all of you!”
The man in the shirt-sleeves looked at his companion and gave a low whistle of astonishment.