FAITHFUL IN THAT WHICH IS LEAST.
Since this one talent Thou hast granted me,
I give Thee thanks, and joy, in blessing Thee
That I am worthy any.
I would not hide or bury it, but rather
Use it for Thee and Thine, O Lord and Father
And make one talent many.
[Illustration] WE may be sure that various were the influences
tending to mould the character of Mary Jones during the years of her
school-life, confirming in her the wonderful steadfastness of purpose
and earnestness of spirit for which she was remarkable, as well as
fostering the tender and loving nature that made her beloved by all
with whom she had to do.
Her master, John Ellis (who afterwards was stationed at Barmouth),
seems to have been a conscientious and able teacher, and we may infer
that he took no small part in the development of the mind and heart of
a pupil who must always have been an object of special interest from
her great intelligence and eagerness to learn.
But as the years passed, the time came for John Ellis to change his
sphere of labour. He did so, and his place was taken by a man, a sketch
of whose story may perhaps not inappropriately be given here, as that
of the teacher under whom Mary Jones was being Instructed at the time
when a great event occurred in her history, an event the recounting of
which we leave for the next chapter.
The successor to John Ellis was Lewis Williams, a man who from a low
station in life, and from absolute ignorance, rose to a position of
considerable influence and popularity, from an utterly heedless and
godless life, to be a God-fearing and noble-minded Christian.
He was a man of small size, and from all that we can learn of his
intellect and talents we can hardly think that they were of any
high order. But what he lacked in mental gifts, he made up in iron
resolution, in a perseverance which was absolutely sublime in its
determination not to be baffled.
He was born in Pennal in the year 1774; his parents were poor, but of
them nothing further is known.
Like other boys at that time, and in that neighbourhood, he was wild
and reckless, breaking the Sabbath continually, and otherwise drawing
upon himself the censure of those with whom he was acquainted.
But when he was about eighteen years old, he chanced on one occasion to
be at a prayer-meeting, when a Mr. Jones, of Mathafarn, was reading and
expounding the fifth chapter of the Epistle to the Romans.
The word of God, thus made known to Lewis Williams in perhaps a fresh
and striking manner, was the means of carrying home to his hitherto
hard heart the conviction of sin; and a change was from that time
observed in him, which gradually deepened, until none could longer
doubt that he had become an earnest and consistent Christian.
On the occasion of his requesting to be admitted to membership in a
little Methodist church at Cwmllinian, he was asked (probably as one
of the test questions), "If Jesus Christ asked you to do some work for
Him, would you do it?" His answer gives us the key to his success: "Oh
yes; 'whatever' Jesus required of me I would do 'at once.'"
Such was the commencement of the religious life of this most singular
man.
Some years after, when in service at a place called Trychiad, near
Llanegryn, he could not but notice the ignorance of the boys in the
neighbourhood, and, burning with zeal to perform some direct and
special work for his Heavenly Master, he resolved to establish there a
Sunday school, and a week-night school besides, if possible, in order
to teach the lads to read.
This would have been praiseworthy, but still nothing remarkable in
the way of an undertaking, had Lewis Williams received any sort of
education himself. But as he had never enjoyed a day's schooling in his
life, and could hardly read a word correctly, the thought of teaching
others seemed, to say the least, rather a wild idea.
But how often the old proverb has been proved true that where there
is a will there is a way; and once more was this verified in the
experience of Lewis Williams.
Owing to the young man's untiring energy and courage, his school was
opened in a short time, and he began the work of instruction, teaching,
we are told, the alphabet to the lowest class by setting it to the tune
of "The March of the Men of Harlech."
Dr. Moffat, we know, tried the same plan of melody lessons forty years
later, with a number of Bechuana children, teaching them their letters
to the tune of "Auld Lang Syne" with wonderful facility and success.
But Lewis Williams, if he set up for a schoolmaster at all, could
hardly confine his instructions to the lowest class in the school; yet
in undertaking the teaching of the older boys, he was coming face to
face with an obstacle which might well have seemed insurmountable to
any one whose will was less strong or courage less undaunted.
The master could not read, or at least he could neither read fluently
nor correctly, yet he had bound himself to teach reading to the lads in
his school.
Painfully mindful of his deficiencies, he used, before commencing his
Sunday school exercises or his evening classes, to pay a visit to a
good woman, Betty Evans by name, who had learned to read well. Under
her tuition, he prepared the lessons he was going to give that day or
the next, so that in reality the master of that flourishing little
school was only beforehand with his scholars by a few hours.
At other times he would invite a number of scholars from an endowed
high school in the neighbourhood, to come for reading and argument.
With quiet tact and careful foresight, he would arrange that the
subject taken for reading and discussion should include the lesson
which he would shortly have to give.
While the reading and talk went on, he listened with rapt attention.
The discussions as to the meaning or pronunciation of the more
difficult words were all clear gain to him, as familiarizing his mind
with what he desired to know.
But none of these youths meeting thus had an inkling that the man who
invited them, who spoke so discreetly, and listened so attentively, was
himself a learner, and dependent upon them for the proper construction
of phrases, or for the correct pronunciation of words occurring in his
next day's or week's lessons.
The school duties were always commenced with prayer, and as the master
had a restless, unruly set of lads to do with, he invented a somewhat
peculiar way of securing their attention for the devotions in which he
led them.
Familiar with military exercises through former experiences in the
militia, he would put the restless boys through a series of these, and
when they came to "stand at ease," and "attention!" he would at once,
but very briefly and simply, engage in prayer.
While Lewis Williams was thus hard at work at Llanegryn, seeking to win
hearts to the Saviour, and train minds to serve Him, it happened that
Mr. Charles of Bala, intending to preside at a members' meeting to be
held at Abergynolwyn, arrived at Bryncrug the evening before, and spent
the night at the house of John Jones, the schoolmaster of that place.
In the course of conversation with his host, Mr. Charles asked him if
he knew of a suitable person to undertake the charge of one of his
recently established schools in the neighbourhood. John Jones replied
that he had heard of a young man at Llanegryn, who taught the children
both on week-nights and Sundays; "but," added the schoolmaster; "as I
hear that he himself cannot read, can hardly understand how he is able
to instruct others."
"Impossible!" exclaimed Mr. Charles. "How can any one teach what he
does not himself know?"
"Still, they say he does so," replied John Jones.
Mr. Charles at once expressed a wish to see this mysterious instructor
of youth, who was reported as imparting to others what he did not
himself possess. The next day, accordingly, summoned by John Jones,
our young schoolmaster made his appearance. His rustic garb, and the
simplicity of his manner, gave the impression of his being anything but
a pedagogue, whatever might have been said of him.
"Well, my young friend," said Mr. Charles, in the genial pleasant way
that was natural to him, and that at once inspired with confidence all
with whom he had to do, "they tell me you keep a school at Llanegryn
yonder, on Sundays and week-nights, for the purpose of teaching
children to read. Have you many scholars?"
"Yes, sir, far more than I am able to teach," replied Lewis Williams.
"And do they learn a little by your teaching?" asked Mr. Charles, as
kindly as ever, but with a quaint smile lurking round his mouth.
"I think some of them learn, sir," responded the young teacher, very
modestly, and with an overwhelming sense of his own ignorance—a
consciousness that showed itself painfully both in his voice and manner.
"Do you understand any English?" questioned Mr. Charles.
"Only a stray word or two, sir, which I picked up when serving in the
militia."
"Do you read Welsh fluently?"
"No, sir, I can read but little, but I am doing my very best to learn."
"Were you at a school before beginning to teach?" asked Mr. Charles,
more and more interested in the young man who stood so meekly before
him.
"No, sir. I never had a day's schooling in my life."
"And your parents did not teach you to read while you were at home?"
"No, sir, my parents could not read a word for themselves."
Mr. Charles opened his Bible at the first chapter of the Epistle to the
Hebrews, and asked Lewis Williams to read the opening verses.
Slowly, hesitatingly, and with several mistakes, the young man
complied, stumbling with difficulty through the first verse.
"That will do, my lad," said Mr. Charles; "but how you are able to
teach others to read, passes my comprehension. Tell me now by what plan
you instruct the children."
Then the poor young teacher described the methods to which he had
recourse for receiving and imparting instruction; he gave an account
of his musical A B C; the lessons given to himself by Betty Evans; the
readings and discussions of the grammar school boys; and the scholars
playing at "little soldiers."
As Lewis Williams proceeded with his confessions (for such they
appeared to him), Mr. Charles, with the discernment which seems to have
been one of his characteristics, had penetrated through the roughness
and uncouthness of the narrator to the real force of character and
earnestness of the man. He saw that this humble follower of the
Saviour had earnestly endeavoured to improve his one talent, and work
with it in the Master's service, and that he only needed help in the
development of his capacity, to render him a most valuable servant of
Christ. He recommended him therefore to place himself for a time under
the tuition of John Jones, and thus fit himself for efficient teaching
in his turn.
During the following three months, Lewis Williams followed the advice
of Mr. Charles; and this was all the schooling that he ever had.
His self-culture did not, however, cease with the help gained from John
Jones. Every hour he could spare was devoted to study, in order to fit
himself for one of the schoolmasters' places under Mr. Charles' special
control and management. And we are told that in order to perfect
himself further in reading, he used to visit neighbouring churches, to
study the delivery and reading of the ministers presiding there.
His earnest desire was gratified at last, for in the year 1799—that
is, when he was about twenty-five years of age—he was engaged by Mr.
Charles as a paid teacher in one of his schools. He was removed to
Abergynolwyn a year later, and here, among his pupils, was our young
friend Mary Jones.
In his subsequent years of work he was the means of establishing many
new schools, and of reviving others which were losing their vitality;
and at length, he even became a preacher, so great was his zeal in his
Master's service, and so anxious was he that all should know the truth
and join in the work of the Lord.
He died in his eighty-eighth year, followed by the sincere gratitude
and deep love of the many whom he had benefited.
Our story now returns to Mary Jones, who at the time that Lewis
Williams became schoolmaster at Abergynolwyn, was nearly sixteen years
old.
She was an active, healthy maiden, full of life and energy, as earnest
and as diligent as ever. Nor had her purpose faltered for one moment
as regarded the purchase of a Bible. Through six long years she had
hoarded every penny, denying herself the little indulgences which the
poverty of her life must have made doubly attractive to one so young.
She had continued her visits to the farm-house, and while she there
studied her Bible lessons for school, her desire to possess God's Holy
Book for herself grew almost to a passion.
What joy it would be, she often thought, if every day she could read
and commit to memory portions of Scripture, storing her mind and heart
with immortal truths. "But the time will come," she had added, "when I
shall have my Bible. Yes, though I have waited so long, the time will
come." Then on her knees beside her little bed she had prayed aloud,—
"Dear Lord, let the time come quickly!"
As may be supposed, Mary was the great pride and delight of her
parents. She was more useful, more her mother's right hand than ever;
and her father, as he looked into her clear, honest, intelligent dark
eyes, and heard her recite her lesson for school, or recount for his
benefit all the explanations to which she had that day listened,
thanked the Lord in his heart, for his brave, God-fearing child, and
prayed that she might grow up to be a blessing to all with whom she
might have to do in the future.
[Illustration: _"If a man love me, he will keep my words."_
_Tail-piece from Coverdale's New Test. (1538) in the Society's Library._]