"Awake in me a truer life,A soul to labor and aspire!Touch thou my mortal lips, O God!With thine own truth's immortal fire."Sara J. Clarke.
"Awake in me a truer life,A soul to labor and aspire!Touch thou my mortal lips, O God!With thine own truth's immortal fire."Sara J. Clarke.
Yes, it was joy and gladness just to be alive this sweet spring morning. The swift-flowing river gleamed and sparkled in the sunlight; the forest trees on the farther side were touched with a tender yellow green; the grass along the wayside and in the dooryards was of a deeper, richer hue, and spangled thickly with violets and dandelions, and the peach and cherry trees in the gardens were in full bloom; the air was filled with fragrance, and with the twittering of birds, the ripple of the water, and other pleasant rural sounds.
The music of glad young voices came pleasantly to Mildred's ear as she reached her father's gate, and Fan and Annis, who had been stooping over the flower-beds, came bounding to meet her with a joyous greeting.
"How is mother?" was her first question.
"Well; she's downstairs in the sitting-room cutting out sewing work."
"Yes; she's sure to be busy," Mildred said, hurrying into the house, bidding good-morning, as she passed, to Ada, who was sweeping the front porch.
Every one was busy with a cheerful, energetic activity; Zillah preparing breakfast, while Celestia Ann put out her clothes to dry; Rupert milked the cow, and the younger boys fed the chickens.
"Mother! so early at work after your sickness yesterday," Mildred said in a tone of affectionate remonstrance as she entered the sitting-room.
"Yes, daughter dear, there is need, and I am quite able for it," Mrs. Keith answered, looking up with a cheery smile. "And you are not looking so worn and jaded as I feared to see you. Did you get some sleep? and how is the poor sick woman?"
"Yes, ma'am, I slept several hours, and am feeling pretty well. Mrs. Martin died about half an hour ago—very suddenly at the last. Claudina was with her. I was asleep."
Mildred's eyes filled and her voice was husky with emotion as she told of the solemn event.
A silent shake of the head was the only answer she could give to her mother's nextquestion, whether the dying woman had given any evidence that she was putting her trust in Christ.
A look of sadness and pain came over the face of the Christian mother also, while her heart sent up a silent, fervent prayer on behalf of her dear ones, that each of them might be found at last hidden in the Rock of Ages.
"My dear child," she said to Mildred, "let us look upon this sad event as a solemn warning to us to be more faithful and constant in the work of striving to win souls to Christ; remembering that 'the night cometh, when no man can work.' Ah! can I be sure that I am utterly guiltless of the blood of this woman, to whom I never spoke one word of warning or entreaty?"
"Mother, don't blame yourself!" cried Mildred in almost indignant surprise. "You had not even a speaking acquaintance with her."
"But, my dear, I might have had. I could easily have found some excuse for calling upon her in her sickness, had I not allowed myself to be too much taken up with other cares and duties."
"But you can't do everything and take care of everybody," said Mildred with affectionate warmth; "and you are always at some goodand useful work. It is I who ought to take the lesson to heart. And, God helping me, I will," she added, in low, earnest, trembling tones. "O mother, I feel this morning that the things of this world are as nothing compared with those of the next, and I want to show by my life that I do feel so! I want to spend it wholly in the Master's service, particularly in winning souls; for, oh! the awful thought of one being lost."
That these were no idle, lightly spoken words, was proven as days, weeks, and months rolled on, by the ever-growing consistency of Mildred's daily walk and conversation; her constant effort to bring her daily life into conformity to the divine precept, "Whether therefore ye eat or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God;" and that other, "As we have therefore opportunity, let us do good unto all men, especially unto them who are of the household of faith."
The members of the home-circle were the first to feel the change in Mildred. She could hardly have made herself more helpful than she had long been, but her cheerfulness was more uniform, and the younger ones found her more patient with their shortcomings, more ready with sympathy and help in theirlittle trials and perplexities. They soon learned to carry them to her as readily as to their best and kindest of mothers. They thought their eldest sister very wise, and liked to consult her about their plans. This gave her many an opportunity to influence them for good, and very rarely was it neglected.
Spring was a very busy season with them all; within doors house-cleaning and a vast amount of sewing—so many new garments to be made, so many old ones to be renovated and altered to suit the increased stature of the growing lads and lasses; outside the gardening, the making everything neat and trim, and the care of the poultry.
Lessons were intermitted for two or three weeks, to give the older members of the family time for their unusual labors, while the children revelled in the delights of digging, planting, and sowing, looking after their sitting hens and tending their broods of little chicks. There was a great deal of healthful pleasure gotten out of the little plots of ground appropriated in severalty to Cyril, Don, Fan, and Annis, and hardly less from their fowls; besides, the young owners were learning habits of industry and thrift; also the enjoyment ofbeing able to give to the Lord's cause of that which had cost them something.
A beggar was a thing almost unknown in the town, and there were very few people poor enough to be objects of charity; but it was nice, the children thought, to have something of their very own to put into the church or Sabbath-school collection, especially when it was to go to buy Bibles and pay for sending missionaries to the poor benighted heathen.
The cause of missions was dear to the hearts of the parents, and they were training their children to love and work for it.
Rupert was the principal gardener and manager of outdoor matters. He had full charge of the fruit and vegetable garden on his father's ground, and it flourished under his care. But not content with that, he had his own lot and Mildred's—which he undertook to cultivate upon shares—ploughed up, then sowed them with corn, potatoes and melons.
He had his mother's talent for system; and, making the best use of every spare moment, an early riser, industrious, energetic, and painstaking, he managed to do all this without neglecting the studies, in preparation for college, which he was still pursuing with Mr. Lord.
He even found time for setting out trees and shrubs, and digging up the flower-beds in the front and side yards; doing all the hard work needed there, then giving them into the care of his mother and the older girls, who contrived to spare to the pleasing task an occasional half hour morning and evening, finding it a rest from almost constant toil with the needle.
Cheerfully busy as Mildred was from morning to night, Charlie was seldom absent from her thoughts: she followed him in imagination through all his wanderings, the unbidden tears often springing to her eyes as she dwelt upon the loneliness and hardships he was doubtless called to endure; her only comfort that she might constantly plead for him with that almighty Friend who knew it all, and was ever near to both herself and her loved one.
She hoped, she prayed, that Charlie might be restored to her, with the barrier to their union removed; but most of all, that whether she should ever see him again on earth or not, he might inherit eternal life.
Her father and mother, Rupert, and Zillah were the only members of the family who knew anything of the matter; the others never so much as suspected that their bright,kind, helpful, sympathizing sister Milly was burdened with a secret sorrow or care.
Nor did she make a confidante of Claudina Chetwood, Lu Grange or Effie Prescott, though on intimate terms with all three.
Effie's health had improved since the Keiths first made her acquaintance, but she was still feeble and often ailing. She was a girl of fine mind, very fond of reading, and very thankful to these good neighbors for their kindness in lending her books and periodicals. And she greatly enjoyed a chat with Mrs. Keith or Mildred, for which the borrowing and returning afforded frequent occasion.
She came in one morning while they were hard at work over the pile of spring sewing.
"Good-morning, ladies. Don't let me disturb you," she said, as Zillah dropped her work and rose hastily to hand a chair. "I see you are very busy, and I came to ask if you would let me help. I should enjoy spending the morning chatting with you all, and might just as well work while I talk; and I have brought my thimble," taking it from her pocket as she spoke.
"That is a very kind offer, Miss Effie, and we will be glad to have you. Take yon easy-chair and chat with us as long as you will,"Mrs. Keith said, with her pleasant smile; "but that, I think, will be quite sufficient exertion after your walk."
"Yes, indeed; you must get quite enough of sewing at home," said Zillah; "it takes so many, many stitches to make even one garment, and such lots of garments to clothe a family at all respectably."
"Yes," answered Effie in a sprightly tone, "but I am fond of my needle and can use it a good deal without injury. Mildred, I see you are working buttonholes—my especial pride and delight. Won't you hand that waist to me, and find something else to occupy your fingers?"
"Do you like to make them?" asked Mildred in a tone of genuine surprise. "It is my perfect detestation. Therefore I find myself sorely tempted to accept your generous offer."
Before Mildred's sentence was completed the work had exchanged hands, Effie taking playfully forcible possession.
"My dear girl, you have a real genius for the business!" Mildred exclaimed presently. "How rapidly and nicely you work them! two done in less time than I should take for one, without doing it half so well."
Effie's eyes sparkled. "Generous praise,Mildred," she said; "but you can well afford to allow me the credit of doing one little thing better than you do it."
"I dare say there may be many others in which you excel me."
"No, I don't believe there's any other; and oh, when I hear you play the piano I feel as if I'd give anything in the world if I could play even half as well."
"Would you like to take lessons?"
"Shouldn't I!" cried Effie, with emphasis. "But, dear me, there's no use thinking of it, as I'm not likely ever to have the chance."
"I'd rather give a music lesson any day than work buttonholes," remarked Mildred laughingly; "and oh, the quantities of them to be made in this family! Effie, why shouldn't we exchange work occasionally?—an hour of instruction on the piano for an hour's sewing? Don't you think it would do, mother?"
"Capitally, if you are mutually satisfied."
Effie's face was sparkling with delight. "Oh, do you really mean it?" she cried. "Why, I'd gladly give two hours' sewing for one of music lesson, and am sure it would be worth it."
"No," said Mildred, "I think not, considering what a swift and neat needlewoman you are."
"Not much worldly wisdom in either of you, I think, my dear girls," remarked Mrs. Keith with an amused smile.
"But there's a difficulty I had not thought of," said Effie. "I have no piano to practise on."
"You shall have the use of mine."
"Thank you. I gladly accept your kind offer if I may pay for that also with my needle."
Effie spent the day with her friends, and before leaving had come to an arrangement with Mildred perfectly satisfactory to both, and taken her first lesson.
Just at its close, before the two had left the piano, Claudina and Lu came in, and, hearing what Mildred had undertaken, earnestly begged that she would add them to her class.
"Father is very anxious for me to learn," said Claudina, "and was wondering, the other day, if it would do to ask you to take me as a scholar. He said you could set your own price; he'd willingly pay it; but as you have no need to make money for yourself he was afraid to propose it. Now, Milly dear, would you be offended? Of course we should feel that you were doing us a favor, even though you let us pay for it."
"No; I don't feel at all offended," Mildredsaid, laughing and blushing, "and I'd be glad to do anything in my power to gratify you, girls, or your fathers; but I really haven't time."
"Then I suppose we'll have to give it up," remarked Lu with a sigh; "but I do wish this town could afford a music teacher, for I've set my heart on learning to play."
"When spring house-cleaning and sewing are done you won't be so very busy, Milly," suggested Claudina.
"Yes, very nearly if not quite as busy as now, for then I take up my governessing again."
"You're the best sister and daughter I ever heard of," was Claudina's comment.
Tea was just over, and Mrs. Keith stepped out to the kitchen for a consultation with Celestia Ann on the all-important subject of the morrow's breakfast and dinner. Returning to the sitting-room, she found her three girls again plying their needles.
"Come, come, my dears, no more work to-night," she said. "You, Zillah and Ada, may help me set everything to rights here, so that we can go on promptly in the morning; and Mildred, child, if you are not too tired, let your father have some music. It is restfuland cheering to him after his day's work and worry at the office."
"I'm never too tired to play for father or mother," Mildred said with a smile as she rose to do her mother's bidding.
"There! don't wait to fold that; I'll do it," Zillah said, taking the work from her hand. "And, mother, please go into the parlor and rest yourself in the big rocking-chair, and leave this clearing up to Ada and me."
"Yes, mother, please do," chimed in the younger girl; "we'd a great deal rather, and you know we can just as well as not."
"Thank you, dears; then I will. What comforts and blessings you are to me! all three of you."
"Me too, mother?—me and Fan?" asked little Annis, following and standing beside her mother's chair with eager, upturned face and pleading eyes.
"Yes, indeed, darling! Mother wouldn't know how to do without her baby girl or her dear little Fan," Mrs. Keith answered, lifting the one into her lap and drawing the other close to her side; for Fan, too, had followed her in from the sitting-room.
"I'm not of much use yet, mother, 'cept to love you," she said, nestling closer; "but I'mgoing to be some day, if I live. See! I've hemmed one side o' this handkerchief; and didn't I make nice bits of stitches?" she asked, holding it up for inspection.
"Yes, indeed, darling, I can see that you have taken great pains. Why, I think after a while I shall have no need to sew at all, with so many other fingers to do the work. Go and show it to father."
Fan obeyed, was praised, caressed and taken upon her father's knee, where she sat in quiet content listening to Mildred's music.
Presently Squire Chetwood was ushered in by Celestia Ann.
"Go on, Miss Mildred," he said as he took the seat Mr. Keith hastened to offer; "there's no greater treat for me than your music; and my errand will keep for a bit."
It proved, when told, one that rejoiced them all. It was to show to Mr. Keith a letter of acceptance from a gentleman teacher with whom they had been corresponding with a view to securing his services as principal of a school which they were trying to establish in the town. It was to be for both sexes, and the gentleman's wife would take charge of the girls' department.
"I send four pupils—Zillah, Ada, Cyril, andDon," said Mr. Keith, "thereby considerably lightening your labors, wife, and Mildred's, I trust."
The squire cleared his throat. "And then, Miss Mildred—Ah! I hardly dare go on lest you should think me presuming."
"But after exciting my curiosity you can hardly refuse to gratify it," Mildred returned playfully, though she knew very well what was coming.
Before the squire went away she had consented to take another music scholar, and the terms he offered were very liberal, she having declined to name a price for her services.
"Having accepted Claudina, you can hardly refuse Lu," her mother remarked when the squire had gone.
"No, mother; and how little time I shall have left for helping you!" sighed Mildred.
"Now, Milly, don't try to make yourself of so much importance!" cried Zillah in a gayly bantering tone. "Didn't mother do without you entirely last year? One would suppose Ada and I were of no consequence where work is concerned."
"But you will be in school, child!"
"Not for the first four hours after we leaveour beds in the morning, or the last four or five before we return to them at night."
"Beside an hour or more at noon," added Ada; "and if we can't do something to help mother in all that time we'll deserve to be called lazy girls."
"We shall do nicely, I am sure," the mother said, with a pleased, loving glance at each of the three faces in turn. "I think we can manage so that everything will be attended to, and no one of us overworked. I can easily hear Fan's and Annis's little lessons every day while sewing. Your five music scholars, Mildred, will occupy only ten hours a week of your time, while one of them will do an hour's sewing for you every day and the other two outsiders bring you in a nice little sum of pocket money."
"Why, it doesn't look so very laborious after all!" Mildred said, brightening.
"No," laughed Zillah, "you could take half a dozen more music scholars and not be hurt."
"Wouldst thou from sorrow find a sweet relief,Or is thy heart oppress'd with woes untold?Balm wouldst thou gather for corroding grief,Pour blessings round thee like a shower of gold!"Carlos Wilcox.
"Wouldst thou from sorrow find a sweet relief,Or is thy heart oppress'd with woes untold?Balm wouldst thou gather for corroding grief,Pour blessings round thee like a shower of gold!"Carlos Wilcox.
Mildred's charity, beginning at home, did not end there: very earnestly and persistently she strove to scatter blessings as "a shower of gold" wherever she went; to make every life that came in contact with hers, at ever so small a point, the better and brighter for that contact, though it were by but a cheery word or smile.
Do you say these are small matters, scarcely worthy of attention? Ah! to each of us comes the divine command, "Be pitiful, be courteous;" and the Master said of the tithing of mint, anise, and cummin, while the weightier matters of the law were neglected, "These ought ye to have done, and not to leave the other undone." "He that is faithful in that which is least, is faithful also in much."
It was so with Mildred; never considering herself off duty as a Christian soldier, she wasas ready to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, teach the ignorant, and nurse the sick, as to bestow the kind word and pleasant smile that cost her nothing. Nothing? Ah! there were times of weariness and depression when even these trifles cost a heroic effort—a determined setting aside of selfish inclination to moodiness or irritability, or indulgence in a pleasing melancholy, because one great earthly blessing was denied her.
In this her bright, cheerful mother, always ready with a word of counsel and encouragement, was a wonderful help. Indeed, by frequent precept and constant example Mrs. Keith succeeded in making all her children, to a greater or less degree, sunny tempered and benevolent, kind and courteous.
The Dorcas society connected with their church had no more active, efficient, or liberal members than this good lady and her eldest daughter; in proportion to their ability, they gave freely of time, labor, and money. They were, indeed, always found ready to every good work, though they trusted not in their works for acceptance in the sight of God, but only in the atoning blood and imputed righteousness of Christ. "Followers of God as dear children," theirs was a service of love andjoy, rendered not that they might be saved, but because they were saved.
Questions of doctrine and duty were freely discussed in the family circle, the children bringing them in all confidence to their parents for decision, the parents always appealing to the Scriptures as the one infallible rule of faith and practice—as they are in very truth.
"To the law and to the testimony: if they speak not according to this word, it is because there is no light in them." "For the commandment is a lamp, and the law is light."
One Sabbath a returned missionary preached in the morning to Mr. Lord's congregation, in the afternoon addressed the assembled Sunday-schools of the town.
The Keiths came home from the latter service very full of what they had heard of the sad condition of the heathen world, the need of money to carry on the work of evangelizing them, and the self-denying efforts some of God's children, both old and young, were making to earn and save that they might be able to give to this good cause.
Cyril had been especially interested in the story of a little boy who had raised a pig, sold it, and given to missions the whole of what he received for it.
"I mean to have a missionary pig," Cyril said to Don as they walked home together. "I'll take good care of it and feed it well, so it will be very fat, so that I can get ten dollars for it; and every cent of it shall go to the missionaries. And I'll make more besides for them out of my garden and my chickens."
"So will I," said Don; "but I shan't let 'em have all the money."
"How much, then?"
"I don't know yet."
"I'm afraid it won't do for all of us to have pigs," said Ada, overhearing the talk of her little brothers.
"No," laughed Zillah; "we'd overstock the market and bring down the price."
"I don't see what I can do then, except give some of my pocket-money; unless mother will pay me for doing without butter and tea and sugar, as some of the children do that the missionary told about."
"That's too hard a way," said Cyril; "you won't catch me trying that: I'll work for the heathen, but I won't starve for 'em."
"It would be hard; but we ought to deny ourselves," Ada returned half regretfully.
"Yes, in some things," Zillah said: "I don'tfeel sure about this. We'll ask father and mother."
They did so immediately on entering the house.
"Your mother and I have just been discussing that question," Mr. Keith said, "and we think that as good, nourishing food is necessary to your health and growth, it is not a duty for you to deny yourselves such common comforts as butter and sugar. There are other and better ways in which to practise self-denial."
"How, father?" asked Ada.
"It might be by denying our love of ease—working and earning for the good of others, when we would rather be at play; the Bible speaks of laboring, working with our hands that we may have to give to him that needeth."
"And who more needy than the poor, benighted heathen!" sighed Mrs. Keith.
"It won't hurt us to deny ourselves in the matter of finery," remarked Mildred.
"Or eating more than enough to satisfy our appetites, just because it tastes good," added Rupert.
"No, that is sinful in itself, because injurious to health," said his father.
"But haven't we a right to eat what weplease, and just as much as we choose, if we would rather be sick than do without the good things, father?" asked Cyril.
"No, my son; health is one of God's good gifts, which we have no right to throw away. We can't serve him with a sick and suffering body so well as with a strong, healthy one. And we are told in Proverbs, 'The drunkard and the glutton shall come to poverty.'"
"Father, does God want us to give all our money away to other folks?" asked Don.
"No, son, not all; our heavenly Father intends us to use some of it to supply our own needs."
"What proportion ought we to give, father?" asked Rupert.
"I think that depends upon how large our means are."
"Is not a tenth the Bible rule?" asked Mrs. Keith.
"Yes; God claims a tenth as his. It seems plain that every one should give that, or more properly pay it to the Lord; and those who are able to do more, add offerings in proportion to their ability. So I gather from this text in Malachi, third chapter and eighth verse;" and opening a Bible, Mr. Keith read aloud: "'Will a man rob God? Yet ye have robbed me.But ye say, Wherein have we robbed thee? In tithes and offerings.'"
"I thought that was the rule under the Levitical law, and that the New Testament rule was, 'Give as God has prospered you,'" said Rupert.
"Yes, we are to give as God has prospered us—one dollar out of every ten, one hundred out of every thousand, and so on. The beginning of tithe-paying was not in the time of Moses, but hundreds of years before; for we read that Abraham paid tithes, and that Jacob promised to the Lord the tenth of all that he should give him. We nowhere read that Jesus abrogated this law; indeed he said, 'Think not that I am come to destroy the law or the prophets; I am not come to destroy, but to fulfil;' of the tithing of 'mint and rue and all manner of herbs,' that it ought not to be left undone. And God promises blessings, both temporal and spiritual, to those who faithfully obey this law of the tithes. 'Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse, that there may be meat in mine house; and prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it. And I will rebuke the devourerfor your sakes, and he shall not destroy the fruits of your ground; neither shall your vine cast her fruit before the time in the field, saith the Lord of hosts.'
"'Honor the Lord with thy substance and with the first-fruits of all thine increase: so shall thy barns be filled with plenty, and thy presses shall burst out with new wine.'
"'Trust in the Lord, and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed.'
"'There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth; and there is that withholdeth more than is meet, but it tendeth to poverty.'
"'He that hath pity upon the poor, lendeth unto the Lord; and that which he hath given will he pay him again.'
"These are not all the texts bearing on the subject, but will suffice for the present."
"Father," said Don, "God doesn't need our money, does he? Why does he tell us to give it to him?"
"For our own good, my son. Don't you remember Jesus said, 'It is more blessed to give than to receive'? He cannot be happy who indulges a mean, sordid disposition; the less selfish we are, the more ready to help others and share our good things with them, the happier and the more like our heavenly Father we shall be. Try it, my boy, and you will find it is so. And the more constantly we practise giving, the more we shall be in love with it."
"And then shall our gifts be pleasing to God," added the mother. "'Every man according as he purposeth in his heart, so let him live; not grudgingly, or of necessity: for God loveth a cheerful giver. And God is able to make all grace abound toward you; that ye, always having all sufficiency in all things, may abound to every good work.'"
"Well, it seems, if we obey the Bible rule, we will give a tenth of our pocket-money, and of all we can make beside," remarked Rupert.
"And I am very glad I can earn something by teaching music," said Mildred.
"I think you can each find some way of earning something for this good purpose," the mother said, glancing smilingly around the little group.
Cyril told eagerly of his plan. Don adding that he meant to have a missionary pig too, but not to give all that he made on it.
"You must decide for yourself whether to give more than a tenth of its price," his father said; "but I think 'missionary pig' will hardlybe an appropriate name unless it is entirely devoted to the cause."
"Mother," said Fan, "wouldn't it be nice for me to call one of my hens a missionary hen, and give all the money I get for her and her eggs to the heathen?"
"Yes, dear, I think it would be very nice," Mrs. Keith answered, with a loving glance into the earnest little face.
"Then I'll do it, and I hope she'll lay an egg every day."
"And I'll have a missionary hen!" cried little Annis, clapping her hands with delight at the idea of contributing her mite to the good cause.
"Ada and I haven't matured our plans yet," said Zillah, "but we'll be sure to find some way to make money, as well as the rest of you."
"Mother will help us to contrive it; won't you, mother?" Ada said, with a look of confiding affection.
The answer was a prompt, emphatic "Yes, indeed, my dear."
But Mr. Keith seemed to have something further to say, and all turned to listen.
"We want to give the missionary some money to-day or to-morrow to carry away with him. Who has any ready now?"
Cyril's countenance fell. He was a great spendthrift, and money slipped through his fingers almost as soon as it came into his possession.
"My pocket-money's all gone," he sighed, half aloud, half to himself; then nudging his younger brother, "Don, you always have some: won't you lend me a little?"
"No," said Mr. Keith, "you are not to go into debt, even from a good motive. After this, set aside the Lord's tenth of all your money as soon as it comes into your hands, and use that portion scrupulously for him in giving to the church and the poor. And, my son, I want you to form the habit of laying by a little for your own future needs. You will be a poor man if you spend all your money as fast as you get it."
"I don't," remarked Don complacently; "I save 'most all I get."
"Ah, yes, my boy, I know that, and often feel troubled about my youngest son lest he should become a hard, grasping, miserly man, loving and hoarding money for its own sake. Do you know that that is as truly idolatry as the bowing down of the heathen to images of wood and stone?"
"Is it, father?" murmured the little lad, hisface crimsoning, and the tears starting to his eyes.
"It is indeed, Don; and so a worse fault than Cyril's foolish spending, bad as that is. The Bible bids us mortify 'covetousness, which is idolatry.'"
"Try, both of you, to save in order 'to have to give to him that needeth,' and to 'provide things honest in the sight of all men.' We must first pay to the Lord his tenth, then to our fellow-men what we honestly owe them; after that give to the needy what we feel able to spare from our store. Not pull down our barns and build greater, there to bestow our surplus goods, while we take our ease, eat, drink, and be merry, and neglect to relieve the distress and suffering of the poor and needy."
"Like the rich man in the Bible," said Fan. "Father, was he a very bad man?"
"Probably not what the world calls bad; we are not told that he was dishonest, drunken, or profane; but he was selfish and covetous—caring for the good things of this world and neglectful of eternal things; and selfishness is sin as well as covetousness. They seem to go together and shut the soul out of heaven. The Bible says, 'Nor thieves, nor covetous, nordrunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners shall inherit the kingdom of God."
"I thought coveting was wanting other people's things," remarked Ada.
"That is coveting," replied her father, "and so is that inordinate love of gain, which leads men to drive hard bargains, and to heap up riches at the expense of leaving those to suffer whom they are fully able to relieve. When the Lord gives us large means, it is that, as his stewards, we may distribute to others. Well, Rupert, what is it?"
"I have the money I had saved toward buying a piano. I will give a tenth of it now."
"That is well. Who else has anything for the missionary?"
"I have a little of the pocket-money Aunt Wealthy supplies," Mildred said. "I wish I could give more now. I hope to when the money comes in from my music scholars; but that will not be for some time, you know."
"I haven't much money," said Fan, "but maybe I can sell my eggs. I have a whole dozen."
"I'll give some of my money," said Don.
"And I," "And I," said Zillah and Ada.
Mrs. Keith also promised something, andMr. Keith added that he, too, would give, and they would collect it all and hand it to the missionary before his departure, which was to be the next afternoon.
"Father, is it right to pray for earthly prosperity?" asked Rupert.
"That depends very much upon the motive. The apostle James says, 'Ye have not, because ye ask not. Ye ask, and receive not, because ye ask amiss, that ye may consume it upon your lusts.' It is not the asking he condemns (he seems, indeed, to reprove them for not asking), but the wrong motive for so doing. Let us compare Scripture with Scripture. The Psalmist tells us, 'Except the Lord build the house, they labor in vain that build it: except the Lord keep the city, the watchman waketh but in vain. It is vain for you to rise up early, to sit up late, to eat the bread of sorrows; for so he giveth his beloved sleep.'
"In Deuteronomy we are told, 'Thou shalt remember the Lord thy God, for it is he that giveth thee power to get wealth.' Evidently we cannot attain to worldly prosperity except by God's help—his blessing on our efforts. We may work for prosperity, and we may pray for it, from either a right or a wrong motive, and certainly in either case we areapproved or the contrary according to the motive that actuates us. 'Man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart.'"
"What would be a right motive, father?" asked Ada in her grave, earnest way.
"The desire to have the ability to 'provide things honest in the sight of all men,' to help on the Lord's cause—the work of the church—and to give to the poor and needy. Many desire wealth for their own ease and indulgence, for the consequence it gives them in the eyes of their fellow-men, or as a means of gaining power over them. It cannot be right to pray for it from such motives—that is the sort of asking the apostle condemns."
Mrs. Keith was turning over the leaves of the Bible. "Let the Lord be magnified, who hath pleasure in the prosperity of his servants," she read aloud. "What the Lord takes pleasure in, and what he promises upon conditions, it cannot be wrong to ask for, unless from a wrong motive," she remarked. "And it is clear to my mind that if it be wrong to pray for prosperity, it is also wrong to work for it; certainly a Christian should never engage in anything upon which he cannot ask God's blessing. But we are commanded to be'diligent in business,' and told that 'the hand of the diligent maketh rich.'"
"Yes," said her husband, "'Not slothful in business, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord.' If we are careful not to divorce these two which God hath joined together, we need not fear to ask his blessing on our labors."
"The whining schoolboy with his satchelAnd shining morning face, creeping like a snailUnwillingly to school."Shakespeare.
"The whining schoolboy with his satchelAnd shining morning face, creeping like a snailUnwillingly to school."Shakespeare.
The new school had opened the previous week, and was now in successful operation. Zillah and Ada were pursuing their studies with redoubled zeal and interest, finding a constant spur in the desire to keep pace with, if not outstrip, the other members of their classes.
Mildred was often applied to for help in the home preparation of their lessons, and her assistance, always cheerfully and kindly given, received with due appreciation.
"With such good help at home," they would say, "we ought to do better than any of the other girls; for there isn't one of them who has a sister so capable of explaining whatever in their lessons they find difficult to understand, or so willing to do it."
"I am only returning to you what mother has done for me in past days," Mildred answeredmore than once; "and if I did not do it she would."
"Yes," was the rejoinder, "there isn't such another mother in the town, or anywhere else, for that matter."
The little boys, accustomed to passing most of the day in the open air, after conning their tasks on the porch or in the shade of the trees, found the confinement of the schoolroom very irksome.
Mother and Mildred were frequently appealed to for sympathy in their trial; and the demand was always sure to be met with bright, hopeful, cheery words of encouragement to patience and diligence. "They must be willing to bear with a little discomfort in the pursuit of the knowledge which was so important to their future success in life—must try to learn all they could, that they might grow up to be wise, useful men, capable of doing God service, and of helping themselves and others."
Hitherto the little fellows had been kept out of the streets and carefully shielded from the snares and temptations of association with the evil-disposed and wicked. The time for a trial of the strength of their principles had now come, and parents and elder sister looked on with deep anxiety for the result.
The perfect openness engendered in them by never-failing sympathy in all their little childish joys and sorrows, plans and purposes, now proved a wonderful safeguard. Why should they want to hide anything from those whose interest in and love for them was made so apparent? They did not; and so many a wrong step was avoided or speedily retrieved.
In that first week of school Cyril had got himself into disgrace with his teacher by a liberal distribution among his mates of gingerbread and candy, for which he had spent his whole store of pocket-money.
The good things were carried into the schoolroom, the master's attention drawn to them by the constant munching and crunching among the boys.
A search was promptly instituted, the remainder of the feast confiscated, and an explanation called for.
"Who brought these things here?" was the stern demand.
"I, sir; I brought them and gave them to the fellows, and so am more to blame than anybody else," Cyril said, rising in his seat and speaking out with manly courage and honesty, though his cheeks were in a blaze and his heart beat fast.
"Then, sir, you shall be punished with the loss of your recess and being kept in for an hour after school," was the stern rejoinder. "I will have no such doings here."
There was not a word of commendation of the boy's moral courage and readiness to confess his fault; and he had to endure not only the loss of his play-time, but also was severely lectured and threatened with a flogging if ever the offence should be repeated.
He went home very angry and indignant, and his mother being out, carried his grievance to Mildred. He poured out the whole story without reserve, finishing with "Wasn't it the greatest shame for him to punish me twice for the same thing? I'm sure the loss of my recess was quite enough, 'specially considering that I owned up the minute he asked about it. And then the idea of threatening to flog me! Why, I haven't had a whipping since I was a little bit of a fellow, and I'd think it an awful disgrace to get one now I'm so big; 'specially at school; and I say nobody but father or mother has a right to touch me. And nobody shall; I'll just knock old Peacock down if he dares to try it; that I will!"
"O Cyril, Cyril, you should not be so disrespectful toward the teacher father has set overyou!" Mildred said, striving to speak quietly though between indignation at the severity and injustice of the treatment the child had received, and the mirth-provoking idea of his imagining himself able to cope with a man, she found it no easy matter. "I'm really sorry you have wasted your money and broken the rules."
"No, I didn't!" the boy burst out hotly; "he'd never made any rule about it; though he has now, and says I ought to have known and must have known that such things couldn't be allowed."
"Well, that seems rather unreasonable; but I suppose you might if you had stopped to think. You know, Cyril dear, how often father and mother have urged you to try to be more thoughtful."
"Yes, but it seems as if I can't, Milly. How's a fellow to help being thoughtless and careless when it comes so natural?"
"Our wicked natures are what we have to strive against, you know; and God will help us if we ask him," she answered, speaking that holy name in low, reverent tones.
Don, who had waited about the school-house door for Cyril, and walked home by his side, was standing by listening to the talk. "OMilly! we don't like that school!" he said, with a look of weariness and disgust; "It's so hard to have to be shut up there, and obliged to sit still most all day long. Won't you ask father to let us stay at home and say lessons to you again?"
"Oh yes, Milly, do!" Cyril joined in. "Fan's ever so lonesome without us, and we'll be as good as we know how; study hard, and not give you a bit of trouble."
Mildred explained that the arrangements had been made for the summer, and could not now be altered.
"And surely," she concluded, with an encouraging smile, "my two little brothers are not such cowards as to be conquered by little difficulties and discomforts. Don't you know we have to meet such things all the way through life? and the best way is to meet them with a cheerful courage and determination to press on notwithstanding. 'The slothful man saith there is a lion in the way.' 'The way of the slothful man is as an hedge of thorns.' Don't be like him."
"Does that mean that folks are lazy when they give up because things are hard?"
"Yes, Don; and if we are so ready to do that, we are not likely to get to heaven; becausethat is no easy matter—with our sinful hearts, a wicked world, and Satan and all his hosts to fight against. We have to 'fight the good fight of faith'—to 'lay hold on eternal life'—to 'press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus'—to 'run with patience the race that is set before us.' Jesus said 'The kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the violent take it by force.'"
"Milly, what does that mean?"
"That to get to heaven it is necessary to strive very, very earnestly and determinately."
"Milly, how can Don and I fight that fight?" asked Cyril. "Do tell us."
"Just as grown people must—by loving and trusting Jesus, and striving earnestly every day and hour to serve God in doing faithfully the duty that comes nearest to hand. And don't you see that the principal part of yours at present is to be good, faithful workers at school, and obedient to your teacher, because father has given him authority over you when you are at school?"
"Yes, I 'spose so," sighed Don. "But O Milly, I did want to run away this afternoon and take a nice walk, 'stead of going to school.It's so nice down by the river and in the woods 'mong the birds and flowers."
"Yes, I know it is, Don; but it would have been very wrong to go without leave; and I can't tell you how glad I am that you resisted the temptation."
Now that money was wanted for the missionary, Cyril was sorry for having spent his so foolishly.
"I was very bad to waste it in that way," he said regretfully; "it was all because I didn't think; but I mean to think after this, and try to make the best use of all the money I get."
The new school was nearly as great an affliction to Fan as to the little boys; she was so lonely without Cyril and Don—hitherto her inseparable companions and playmates; and now it depended upon her to run errands for her mother and sister when they were in too great haste to wait the boys' leisure; and Fan, being extremely timid and bashful, found this no small trial.
It was Monday morning; the scholars were trooping into the schoolhouse—the Keiths among the rest.
At home Mildred was in the parlor giving a music lesson; Fan in the sitting room waiting for mother to come and hear her read and spell.
Mrs. Keith came in and sat down at her writing desk.
"Fan, darling, mother wants you to do an errand for her," she said, taking up her pen.
"What, mother?" the child asked half plaintively.
"To carry a note for me to Mrs. Clark. I want you to take it there immediately, and tell her you will wait for an answer. And then, as you come back, call at Chetwood & Mocker's and ask for a yard of calico like the piece I shall give you, and also how they are selling eggs to-day by the dozen. Then I will buy your dozen of you, and you will have the money for the missionary."
"Oh mother," sighed the little girl, "I don't like to go to the store all alone, or to Mrs. Clark's either. I don't know her."
"I am sorry my dear little girl is so bashful, but that is something that must be overcome, and cannot be except by refusing to indulge it. You may take Annis with you, though, if you choose."
"Thank you, mother; but Annis is so little that I'll have to do all the talking just the same."
"Well, dear, you can talk quite prettily, if you only forget to think about yourself. Tryto forget little Fan Keith, and think of the messages she has to deliver, the questions she must ask, and you will find there is no trouble at all."
"O mother! please let somebody else go."
Fan had put down her book, gone to her mother's side, and was standing there looking pleadingly into her face.
Mrs. Keith bent down as she folded her note and pressed a loving kiss on the white forehead.
"My little girl will go to please mother and the dear Lord Jesus. There is no one else to go now, and the errands cannot wait for the boys to come home from school."
"Will it please Jesus, mother?"
"Yes, dear, because he bids you honor and obey your mother, and also to deny yourself when duty calls. You know one part of the errand at the store is to help you to the money for the poor heathen."
"Mother, I'd rather do 'most anything else for them; but I'll go to please you and the Lord Jesus. And I want Annis to go too. Will you, Annis?"
"I guess Iwill! I'd like to," the little one answered joyously.
It was a busy morning with Mrs. Keith, andgetting Annis ready for the walk involved some small loss of time; but she considered the pleasure she would thus give her little ones well worth the sacrifice.
"Now, Fan," she said, when the children were about to start, and she had put the note and sample of calico into the little girl's hands, with a repetition of her commissions, "remember that you are the errand girl and have all the responsibility, because Annis is too little; but you are mother's big, useful girl. I know you are glad to be a help and comfort to mother."
The tender, loving words infused courage into the timid little heart for the moment, and the two set off with bright faces; but Fan's clouded again, and her heart beat fast as she neared Mrs. Clark's door.
Had it not been open her timid little rap would hardly have been heard; and her message, delivered with the note, was given in tones so low that the lady had to ask her to repeat it, while she bent her ear to catch the words.
At the store it was even worse. Not yet recovered from the embarrassment of her call upon Mrs. Clark, Fan stumbled and stammered, said she wanted a dozen calicoes forher mother, and to know how they sold eggs by the yard.
Then catching the mirthful gleam in Will Chetwood's eyes and seeing the corners of his lips twitching, she hastily drew back as far as possible into the shelter of her sun-bonnet, quite overwhelmed with confusion by the sudden consciousness of having made a terrible blunder, her cheeks aflame and her eyes filling with tears.
"I think it is a yard of calico like that in your hand, that you want, and the price of eggs by the dozen, isn't it?" he asked pleasantly.
"Yes, sir; that's what mother said," Annis spoke up briskly.
Fan was quite beyond speaking, and kept her face hidden in her sun-bonnet, and hurried away the moment her little parcel was handed her.
Mildred was alone in the sitting-room as they came in.
"Where's mother?" asked Annis.
"In the parlor, talking to Mr. Lord. You got the calico, Fan? Here, give it to me." Then catching sight of the child's face as she drew near, "Why, what's the matter? what have you been crying about?" she asked in a tone of kindly concern.
"O Milly, I couldn't help it! I don't like to go errands!" cried Fan, bursting into tears again.
Mildred drew the little weeper to her side, wiped away the tears, kissed the wet cheek, and with kindly questioning drew the whole story from her.
"And Mr. Chetwood was laughing at me, I know he was! and I don't want ever to go there any more!" concluded the child, hiding her burning cheeks on Mildred's shoulder.
"Oh! you needn't mind that," Mildred said; "just join in the laugh. That's the way Aunt Wealthy does; and your mistake is very much like some of hers."
"Then I don't care so much, for nobody's nicer than Aunt Wealthy—unless it's mother and father and you."
"You needn't except me. I'm by no means equal to Aunt Wealthy," Mildred said, smiling, and stroking Fan's hair.
Annis had run into the parlor, and they were quite alone.
"Milly," said Fan, after a moment's silence, "I thought God heard our prayers?"
"So he does, Fan."
"Yes, but I mean I thought he would do what we asked."
"Not always, because we often ask for something that he sees would not be good for us. But what are you thinking about? have you prayed for something that you didn't get? Perhaps you expected the answer too soon. We often have to wait and pray again and again many times, and at last the answer comes. And sometimes it comes in a better way than we had thought of."
"I'll tell you, Milly," Fan said slowly and hesitatingly, "I prayed that Mrs. Clark mightn't be at home; but there she was."
Mildred could scarcely keep from smiling. "That wasn't a good or right prayer, little sister," she said, "because—don't you see?—it was selfish, and almost the same as disobeying mother; since if the prayer had been granted you would have been prevented from doing her errand."
"Milly, I didn't think of that," Fan answered penitently. "I won't pray that way any more."
"No, dear; a better prayer would be for help to overcome your foolish timidity. We will both ask our kind heavenly Father for that."