ON THE WAY.
A strong, brave heart, and a purpose true,
Are better than wealth untold,
Planting a garden in barren ways,
And turning their dust to gold.
[Illustration] "O MOTHER! O father! Only think! Mrs. Evans has just
paid me for that work I did for her, and it is more than I expected;
and now I find I have enough to buy a Bible. I'm so happy I don't know
what to do."
Mary had just come from the farm-house, and now as she bounded in with
the joyful news, Jacob stopped his loom, and held out both hands.
"Is it really so, Mary? After six years' saving! Nay then, God be
thanked, child, who first put the wish into your heart, and then gave
you patience to wait and work to get the thing you wanted. Bless you,
my little maid," and Jacob laid a hand solemnly upon his daughter's
head, adding in a lower tone, "and she shall be blest!"
"But tell me, father dear," said Mary after a little pause, "where
am I to buy the Bible? There are no Bibles to be had here or at
Abergynolwyn."
"I cannot tell you, Mary, but our preacher, William Huw, will know,"
replied Jacob; "you will do well to go to him to-morrow, and ask how
you're to get the book."
Acting upon her father's suggestion, Mary accordingly went the next
day to Llechwedd to William Huw, and to him she put the question so
all-important to her. But he replied that not a copy could be obtained
(even of the Welsh version published the year before) nearer than of
Mr. Charles of Bala; and he added that he feared lest all the Bibles
received by Mr. Charles from London had been sold or promised months
ago.
This was discouraging news, and Mary went home, cast down indeed, but
not in despair. There was still, she reflected, a chance that one copy
of the Scriptures yet remained in Mr. Charles's possession; and if so,
that Bible should be hers.
The long distance—over twenty-five miles—the unknown road, the
far-famed, but to her, strange minister, who was to grant her the boon
she craved—all this, if it a little frightened her, did not for one
moment threaten to change her purpose.
Even Jacob and Molly, who at first, on account of the distance,
objected to her walking to Bala for the purchase of her Bible, ceased
to oppose their will to hers; "for," said good Jacob to his wife, "if
it's the Lord answering our prayers and leading the child, as we prayed
He might, it would ill become us to go against His wisdom."
And so our little Mary had her way, and having received permission for
her journey, she went to a neighbour living near, and telling her of
her proposed expedition, asked if she would lend her a wallet to carry
home the treasure should she obtain it.
The neighbour, mindful of Mary's many little acts of thoughtful
kindness towards herself and her children, and glad of any way in which
she could show her grateful feeling and sympathy, put the wallet into
the girl's hand, and bade her good-bye with a hearty "God speed you!"
The next morning, a fresh, breezy day in spring, in the year 1800,
Mary rose almost as soon as it was light, and washed and dressed with
unusual care; for was not this to be a day of days—the day for which
she had waited for years, and which must, she thought, make her the
happiest of girls, or bring to her such grief and disappointment as she
had never yet known?
Her one pair of shoes—far too precious a possession to be worn on a
twenty-five mile walk—Mary placed in her wallet, intending to put them
on as soon as she reached the town.
Early as was the hour, Molly and Jacob were both up to give Mary her
breakfast of hot milk and bread, and have family prayer, offering a
special petition for God's blessing on their child's undertaking, and
for His protection and care during her journey.
This fortified and comforted Mary, and, kissing her parents, she
went out into the dawn of that lovely day—a day which lived in her
remembrance till the last hour of her long and useful life.
She set out at a good pace—not too quick, for that would have wearied
her ere a quarter of her journey could be accomplished, but an even,
steady walk, her bare brown feet treading lightly but firmly along
the road, her head erect, her clear eyes glistening, her cheek with a
healthy flush under the brown skin. So she went—the bonniest, blithest
maiden on that sweet spring morning in all the country round.
[Illustration: CADER IDRIS.]
Never before had everything about her looked to Mary as it looked on
that memorable morning. The dear old mountain seemed to gaze down
protectingly upon her. The very sun, as it came up on the eastern
horizon, appeared to have a smile specially for her. The larks soared
from the meadow till their trilling died away in the sky, like a
tuneful prayer sent up to God. The rabbits peeped out at her from leafy
nooks and holes, and even a squirrel, as it ran up a tree, stopped
to glance familiarly at our little maiden, as much as to say, "Good
morning, Mary; good luck to you!" And the girl's heart was attuned to
the blithe loveliness of nature, full of thankfulness for the past and
of hope for the future.
And now, leaving our heroine bravely wending her way towards Bala, we
will Just record briefly the history of that good and earnest man on
whom the child's hopes and expectations were this day fixed, and who
therefore, in Mary's eyes, must be the greatest and most important
person—for the time—in the world.
But apart from the ideas and opinions of a simple girl, Thomas Charles
of Bala was in reality a person of great influence and high standing
in Wales, and had been instrumental in the organization and execution
of much important and excellent work, in places where ignorance and
darkness had hitherto prevailed. Hence the name (by which he often
went) of "the Apostolic Charles of Bala."
He was now about fifty years of age, and had spent twenty years in
going about among the wildest parts of Wales, preaching the Word of
Life, forming schools, and using his great and varied talents wholly in
the service of his Master.
At the age of eighteen he had given himself to the Saviour, and his
first work for the Lord was in his own home, where he was the means of
instituting family worship and exerting an influence for good none the
less powerful that it was loving and gentle.
His education was begun at Carmarthen, and continued at Oxford, and
we learn that the Rev. John Newton was a kind and good friend to
him during a part of his student life, and that on one occasion his
vacation was spent at the house of this excellent man.
The Rev. Thomas Charles became an ordained minister of the Church of
England in due course, but owing to the faithful and outspoken style of
his preaching, many of his own denomination took offence and would not
receive him; so he seceded from the Church of England and joined the
Welsh Calvinistic Methodists; but his greatest work hitherto had been
the establishment of Day and Sunday Schools in Wales. The organization
of these, the selection of paid teachers, the periodical visiting and
examination of the various schools, made Mr. Charles's life a very
busy one. But as he toiled on, he could see that his labour was not
in vain. Wherever he went, carrying the good news, proving it in his
life, spending all he was and all he had in the service of Christ,—the
darkness that hung over the people lifted, and the true light began to
shine.
The ignorance and immorality gave place to a desire for knowledge
and holiness, and the soil that was barren and stony became the
planting-place of sweet flowers and pleasant fruits.
Such, in brief, was the man—and such his work up to the time of Mary
Jones's journey to Bala.
About the middle of the day Mary stopped to rest and to eat some food
which her mother had provided for her. Under a tree in a grassy hollow
not far from the road, she half reclined, protected from the sun by
the tender green of the spring foliage, and cooling her hot dusty feet
in the soft damp grass that spread like a velvet carpet all over the
hollow.
Ere long too she spied a little stream, trickling down a hill on its
way to the sea, and here she drank, and washed her face and hands and
feet, and was refreshed.
Half an hour's quiet rested her thoroughly, then she jumped up, slung
her wallet over her shoulder again, and recommenced her journey.
The rest of the way, along a dusty road for the most part, and under a
warm sun, was fatiguing enough; but the little maiden plodded patiently
on, though her feet were blistered and cut with the stones, and her
head ached and her limbs were very weary.
Once a kind cottager, as she passed, gave her a drink of butter-milk,
and a farmer's little daughter, as Mary neared her destination, offered
her a share of the supper she was eating as she sat in the porch in the
cool of the evening; but these were all the adventures or incidents in
Mary's journey till she got to Bala.
On arriving there, she followed out the instructions that had been
given her by William Huw, and went to the house of David Edwards, a
much respected Methodist preacher at Bala.
This good man received her most kindly, questioned her as to her motive
in coming so far, but ended by telling her that owing to Mr. Charles's
early and regular habits (one secret of the large amount of work which
he accomplished), it was now too late in the day to see him.
"But," added the kind old man, seeing his young visitor's
disappointment, "you shall sleep here to-night, and we will go to Mr.
Charles's as soon as I see light in his study-window to-morrow morning,
so that you may accomplish your errand in good time, and be able to
reach home before night."
With grateful thanks Mary accepted the hospitality offered her, and
after a simple supper, she was shown into the little prophet's chamber
where she was to sleep.
There, after repeating a chapter of the Bible, and offering an earnest
prayer, she lay down, her mind and body alike resting, her faith sure
that her journey would not be in vain, but that He who had led her
safely thus far, would give her her heart's desire.
And the curtains of night fell softly about the good preacher's humble
dwelling, shadowing the sleepers there; and the rest of those sleepers
was sweet, and their safety assured, for watching over them was the
God of the night and the day—the God whom they loved and trusted, and
underneath them were the Everlasting Arms.
[Illustration: A CORNER OF BALA LAKE.]
[Illustration: BALA.]