FLOSSY "BEGINS."
FLOSSY SHIPLEY'S first day at Sabbath-school was different. She went
over to the class of boys, who were almost young men, with trepidation
indeed, and yet with an assured sort of feeling that they would be
quiet. Just how she was going to accomplish this she was not certain.
She had studied the words of the lesson most carefully and prayerfully;
indeed, they had been more in her mind all the week than had anything
else. At the same time, she by no means understood how to teach those
words and thoughts to the style of young men who were now before her.
Still, there was that in Flossy which always held the attention of the
young men; she knew this to be the case, and, without understanding
what her peculiar power was, she felt that she had it, and believed that
she could call it into service for this new work. They stared at her a
little as she took her seat, then they nudged each other, and giggled,
and looked down at their dusty boots, guiltless of any attempt at being
black, and shuffled them in a way to make a disagreeable noise.
They knew Flossy--that is, they knew what street she lived on, and how
the outside of her father's house looked, and what her standing in
society was; they knew nothing of her in the capacity of a Sunday-school
teacher; and, truth to tell, they did not believe she _could_ teach. She
was a doll set up before them for them to admire and pretend to listen
to; they did not intend to do it; she had nothing in common with them;
they had a right to make her uncomfortable if they could, and they were
sure that they could. This was the mood in which she found them.
"Good-morning," she said, brightly; and they glanced at each other, and
shuffled their feet louder, and some of them chuckled louder, while one
of them said:
"It's rather late in the morning, ain't it? We got up quite a spell
ago."
This passed for a joke, and they laughed aloud. At this point Flossy
caught Dr. Dennis' distressed face turned that way. It was not
reassuring; he evidently expected disastrous times in that corner.
Flossy ignored the discourteous treatment of her "good-morning," and
opened her Bible.
"Do you know," she said, with a soft little laugh, "that I haven't the
least idea how to teach a Sunday-school lesson? I never did such a thing
in my life; so you mustn't expect wisdom from me. The very most I can do
is to talk the matter over with you, and ask you what you think about
it."
Whereupon they looked at each other again and laughed; but this time it
was a puzzled sort of laugh. This was a new experience. They had had
teachers who knew extremely little about the lesson, and proved it
conclusively, but never once did they _own_ it. Their plan had rather
been to assume the wisdom of Solomon, and in no particular to be found
wanting in information. They did not know what answer to make to
Flossy.
"Have you Bibles?" she asked them.
"No."
"Well, here are Lesson Leaves. These are pieces of the Bible, I suppose.
Are they nice? I don't know anything about them. I have never been in
Sunday-school, you see; not since I was a little girl. What are these
cards for, please?"
Now, they understood all about the management of the library cards, and
the method of giving out books by their means, and Flossy was so
evidently ignorant, and so puzzled by their attempts at explanation, and
asked so many questions, and took so long to understand it, that they
really became very much interested in making it clear to her, and then
in helping her carry out the programme which they had explained; and
everyone of them had a queer sense of relationship to the school that
they had not possessed before. They knew more than she did, and she was
willing to own it.
"Now about this lesson," she said, at last. "I really don't see how
people teach such lessons."
"They don't," said one whom they called "Rich. Johnson." "They just
pretend to, and they go around it, and through it, and ask baby
questions, and pretend that they know a great deal; that's the kind of
teaching that we are used to."
Flossy laughed.
"You won't get it to-day," she said, "for I certainly don't know a great
deal, and I don't know how to pretend that I do. But I like to read
about this talk that Christ had with the people; and I should have liked
of all things to have been there and heard him. I would like to go now
to the place where he was. Wouldn't you like to go to Jerusalem?"
What an awkward way they had of looking from one to the other, and
nudging each other. Rich. Johnson seemed to be the speaker for the
class. He spoke now in a gruff, unprepossessing voice;
"I'd enough sight rather go to California."
The others thought this a joke, and laughed accordingly. Flossy caught
at it.
"California," she said, brightly. "Oh, I've been there. I don't wonder
that you want to go. It is a grand country. I saw some of those great
trees that we have heard about."
[Illustration: "Flossy laid her Bible in her lap, and began."--Page 35.]
And forthwith she launched into an eager description of the mammoth
tree; and as they leaned forward, and asked now and then an intelligent
question, Flossy blessed the good fortune that had made her her father's
chosen companion on his hasty trip to California the year before. What
had all the trees in California to do with the Sabbath-school lesson?
Nothing, of course; but Flossy saw with a little thrill of satisfaction
that the boys were becoming interested in _her_.
"But for all that," she said, coming back suddenly, "I should like ever
so much to go to Jerusalem. I felt so more and more, after I went to
that meeting at Chautauqua, and saw the city all laid out and a model of
the very temple, you know, where Jesus was when he spoke these words."
They did not laugh this time; on the contrary, they looked interested.
She could describe a tree, perhaps she had something else worth hearing.
"What's that?" said Rich. "That's something I never heard of."
And then Flossy laid her Bible in her lap, and began to describe the
living picture of the Holy Land, as she had seen and loved it at
Chautauqua. Of course you know that she did _that_ well. Was not her
heart there? Had she not found a new love, and life, and hope, while she
walked those sunny paths that led to Bethany, and to the Mount of
Olives? Every one of the boys listened, and some of them questioned, and
Rich. said, when she paused:
"Well, now, that's an idea, I declare. I wouldn't mind seeing it
myself."
And to each one of them came a glimmering feeling that there actually
_was_ such a city as Jerusalem, and such a person as Jesus Christ did
really live, and walk, and talk here on the earth. Then Flossy took up
her Bible again.
"But, of course, the next best thing to going to places, and actually
seeing people, is to read about them, and find out what the people said
and did. I like these verses especially, because they mean us as well as
those to whom they were spoken. Look at this verse. I have been all the
week over it, and I don't see but I shall have to stay over it all my
life. 'Then said Jesus, If ye _continue_ in my word, then are ye my
disciples indeed.' Just think how far that reaches! All through the
words of Jesus. So many of them, so many things to do, and so many _not_
to do; and then not only to begin to follow them, but to _continue_; day
after day getting a little farther, and knowing a little more. After
all, it's very fascinating work, isn't it? If it _is_ hard, like
climbing a mountain, one gets nearer the top all the while; and when you
do really reach the top, how splendid it is! Or, doing a hard piece of
work, it's so nice to get nearer and nearer to the end of it, and feel
that you have done it."
One of the boys yawned. It was not so interesting as the description of
the miniature Jerusalem. One of them looked sarcastic. This was Rich.
"Do you suppose there ever was anybody like that?" he asked, and the
most lofty incredulity was in his voice.
"Like what?"
"Why, that followed out that kind of talk. I know enough about the Bible
to know they are mighty scarce. I'd go to Jerusalem on foot to see a
real one. Where's the folks, I'd like to know, that live up to half of
the things it says in the Bible? Why, they even say it _can't_ be done,
and that's why it seems all bosh to me. What was the use of putting it
in there if it can't be done?"
Here was one who had evidently thought, and thought seriously about
these things. Is there a boy of seventeen in our country who has not?
Flossy felt timid. How should she answer the sharp, sarcastic words? He
had been studying inconsistencies, and had grown bitter. The others
looked on curiously; they had a certain kind of pride in Rich. He was
their genius who held all the teachers at bay with his ingenious tongue.
But Flossy had been at a morning meeting in Chautauqua where there was
talk on this very subject. It came back to her now.
"As for being _able_ to do it," she said, quickly, "I don't feel sure
that we have anything to do with that, until we have convinced ourselves
that we have been just as good as we possibly could. Honestly, now, do
you think you have been?"
"No," said Rich., promptly; "of course not. And, what is more, I never
pretended that I was."
"Well, I know _I_ haven't been; I am perfectly certain that in a hundred
ways I could have done better. Why, there is nothing that I could not
have improved upon if I had tried. So by our own confessions what right
have you and I to stumble over not being able to be perfect, so long as
we have not begun to be as near it as we could?"
How was he to answer this?
"Oh, well," he said, "I haven't made any pretensions; I'm talking about
those who have."
"That's exactly like myself; and, as nearly as I can see, we both belong
to the class who knew our duty, and had nothing to do with it. Now, I
want to tell you that I have decided not to stand with that class any
longer."
Flossy paused an instant, caught her breath, and a rich flush spread
over her pretty face. This was her first actual "witnessing" outside of
the narrow limits of her intimate three friends who all sympathized.
"I gave myself to this Jesus when I was at Chautauqua," I said to him;
"that I had stood one side, and had nothing to do with his words all my
life; just taken his favors in silence and indifference, but that for
the future I was to belong to him. Now, of course, I don't know how many
times I shall fail, nor how many things I shall fail in. The most I know
is, that I mean to 'continue.' After all, don't you see that the verse
doesn't say, If you are _perfect_, but simply, 'If you continue.' Now,
if I am trying to climb a hill, it makes a difference with my progress,
to be sure, whether I stumble and fall back a few steps now and then.
But for all that I may continue to climb; and if I do I shall be sure to
reach the top. So now my resolution is to 'continue' in his words all
the rest of my life."
She did not ask Rich. to do the same. She said not a word to him about
himself. She said not a personal word to one of them, but every boy
there felt himself asked to join her. More than that, not a boy of them
but respected her. It is wonderful, after all, how rarely in this wicked
world we meet with other than respect in answer to a frank avowal of our
determination to be on the Lord's side. They were all quiet for an
instant; and again Flossy caught a glimpse of Dr. Dennis' face. It
looked perplexity and distrust. Was she telling them a fairy story, or
teaching them a new game of whist?
"Then there is such a grand promise in this lesson," Flossy went on. "I
like it ever so much for that. 'And ye shall know the truth, and the
truth shall make you free.'"
"Free from what?" asked Rich., abruptly. The very question that Miss
Marion Wilbur had asked in such anxiety. But Flossy was in a measure
prepared for him. It chanced that she had asked Evan Roberts that
self-same question.
"Why, free from the power and dominion of Satan; not belonging to him
any more, and having a strength that is beyond and above anything
earthly to lean upon, stronger than Satan's power can ever be."
Rich. gave a scornful little laugh.
"He is an old fellow that I don't particularly believe in," he said,
loftily, as though that forever settled the question as to the existence
of such a person. "I think a fellow is a silly coward who lays the blame
of his wickedness off on Satan's shoulders; just as if Satan could make
him do what he didn't choose to do! always supposing that there is such
a creature."
Oh wise and wily Flossy! She knew he was wrong. She knew he had
contradicted his own logic, used but a few minutes before, but she did
not attempt to prove it to him; for, in the first place, she felt
instinctively that the most difficult thing in the world is to convince
an ignorant person that he has been foolish and illogical in his
argument. You may prove this to an intelligent mind that is accustomed
to reason, and to weigh the merits of questions, but it is a rare thing
to find an uncultured brain that can follow you closely enough to be
convinced of his own folly.
Flossy did not understand herself well enough to reason this out. It was
simply a fine instinct that she had, perhaps it ought to be called
"tact," that led her to be careful how she tried anything of this sort.
Besides, there was another reason. She did not know how to set about
doing it. It is one thing to see a sophistry, and another to take to
pieces the filmy threads of which it is composed. She waived the whole
subject, and jumped to one on which there could be but one opinion.
"Well, then, suppose you were right, and every one were free to be
perfect if he would; that only reaches to the end of this life. We
surely haven't been perfect, you and I, for instance, so our perfection
cannot save us from the penalty of sin, and that is death. What a grand
thing it would be to be free from that! You believe in death, don't you?
and I suppose, like every other sensible person, you are afraid of
death, unless you have found something that makes you free from its
power."
Rich. was still in a scornful mood.
"Should like to see anybody that is free from that!" he said,
sneeringly. "As near as I can make out, those persons who think they are
good are just as likely to die as the rest of us."
"Ah, yes, but it isn't just that little minute of dying that you and I
are afraid of; it is _afterward_. We are afraid of what will come next.
You see, I know all about it, for I was awfully afraid; I had such a
fear as I suppose you know nothing about. When it thundered I shivered
as if I had a chill, and it seemed to me as if every flash of lightning
was going to kill me; and when I went on a journey I could enjoy nothing
for the fear that there might be an accident and I might be killed. But
I declare to you that I have found something that has taken the fear
away. I do not mean that I would like to be killed, or that I am tired
of living, or anything of the sort. I like to live a great deal better
than I ever did before; I think the world is twice as nice, and
everything a great deal pleasanter; but when I was coming home from
Chautauqua I would waken in the night in the sleeping-car, and I found
to my surprise that, although I thought of the same thing, the
possibility that there might be an accident that would cost me my life,
yet I felt that horrible sense of fear and dread was utterly gone. I
could feel that though death in itself might be sad and solemn, yet it
was, after all, but the step that opened the door to joy. In short"--and
here Flossy's face shone with a rare sweet smile--"I _know_ that the
truth as it is in Jesus has made me free."
Rich. was utterly silent. What could he reply in the face of this
simple, quiet "I _know_?" To say, "I don't believe it," would be the
height of folly, and he realized it.
As for the rest, they had listened to this talk with various degrees of
interest; the most of them amused that Rich. should be drawn into any
talk so serious, and be evidently so earnest.
Let me tell you a little about these young men. They were not from the
very lowest depths of society; that is, they had homes and family ties,
and they had enough to eat and to wear; in fact they earned these
latter, each for himself. There were two of them who had the advantage
of the public schools, and were fair sort of scholars. Rich. Johnson was
one of these, and was therefore somewhat looked up to and respected by
those, even, who would not have gone to school another day if they
could.
But they were far enough out of the reach of Flossy Shipley; so far that
she had never come in contact with one of them before in her life. She
had no idea as to their names, or their homes, or their lives. She had
no sort of idea of the temptations by which they were surrounded, nor
what they needed. Perhaps this very fact removed all touch of patronage
from her tone; as, when the bell rang, she found, to her great
surprise, that the lesson hour was over, she turned back to them for a
moment and said with that sparkling little smile of hers:
"I'm real sorry you hadn't a teacher to-day. I should have been glad to
have taught the lesson if I had known how; but you see how it is; I have
all these things to learn."
"Now, Rich. Johnson rather prided himself on his rudeness; a strange
thing to pride one's self on, to be sure. But pride takes all sorts of
curious forms, and he had actually rather gloried in his ability to say
rude and cutting things at a moment's notice; words, you know, that the
boys in his set called 'cute.' But he was at this time actually
surprised into being almost gallant.
"We never had a better teacher," he said, quickly. "If you are only just
learning you better try it again on us; we like the style enough sight
better than the finished up kind."
And then Flossy smiled again, and thanked them, and said she had enjoyed
it. And then she did an unprecedented thing. She invited them all to
call on her, in a pretty, graceful way, precisely as she would have
invited a gentleman friend who had seen her home from a concert, the
quiet, courteous invitation to her father's house, which is a mere
matter of form among the young ladies of her set, but which to these
boys was as astonishing as an invitation to the Garden of Eden.
They had not the slightest intention of accepting the invitation, but
they felt, without realizing what made them feel so, a sudden added
touch of self-respect. I almost think they were more careful of their
words during the rest of that day than they would have been but for that
invitation.
"Isn't Sunday-school splendid?" Flossy said to Ruth Erskine, as, with
her cheeks in a fine glow of glad satisfaction that she had "begun," she
joined Ruth in the hall.
"It was very interesting," said Ruth, in her more quiet, thoughtful way.
She was thoughtful during the entire walk home.
It was her lot to slip into one of those grand classes where Bible
teaching means something more than simply reading over the verses. There
had been good seed sown with a lavish hand, and there had been careful
probing to see if it had taken root. Ruth had some stronger ideas about
the importance of "continuing." She had a renewed sense of the
blessedness of being made "free." She went home with a renewed desire to
consecrate herself, and not only to enjoy, but to labor, that others
might enter into that rest. Blessed are those teachers whose earnest
Sabbath work produces such fruit as this!
[Illustration]
[Illustration]