TEARS THAT PREVAIL.
Often tears of joy and sorrow meet;
Marah's bitter waters turn'd to sweet.
BALA is even now a quiet little town, situated near the end of Bala
Lake, on the north side of a wide, cultivated valley. A hundred years
ago, it was more quiet and rural still. The scenery is pastoral in its
character, hilly rather than mountainous, but well wooded and watered.
The town is a favourite resort of people fond of shooting and fishing.
Altogether it is a pretty, cheerful, healthy spot, but wanting in the
imposing grandeur and rugged beauty of many other parts of North Wales.
Such, then, was the place to which our little heroine's weary feet had
brought her on the preceding evening, and such was the home—for the
greater part of his life—of Thomas Charles of Bala.
Mary's deep, dreamless sleep was not broken until her host knocked at
her door at early dawning.
"Wake up, Mary Jones, my child! Mr. Charles is an early riser, and will
soon be at work. The dawn is breaking; get up, dear!"
Mary started up, rubbing her eyes. The time had really come, then, and
in a few minutes she would know what was to be the result of her long
waiting.
[Illustration: BALA LAKE.]
Her heart beat quicker as she washed and dressed, but her excitement
calmed when she sat down for a minute or two on the side of her bed,
and repeated the 23rd Psalm.
The sweet words of the royal singer were the first that occurred to
her, and now, as she murmured "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not
want," she felt as though she were of a truth being watched over and
cared for by a loving Shepherd, and being led by Him.
She was soon ready, and David Edwards and his guest proceeded together
to Mr. Charles's house.
"There's a light in his study," said the good old preacher. "Our
apostle is at his desk already. There are not many like him, Mary;
always at work for the Master. The world would be better had we more
such men."
Mary did not reply, but she listened intently as David Edwards knocked
at the door. There was no answer, only the tread of a foot across the
floor above, and the next moment the door opened, and Mr. Charles
himself stood before them.
"Good morning, friend Edwards! And what brings you here so early? Come
in, do," said the genial, hearty voice, which so many knew, and had
cause to love. Then, as David Edwards entered, Mr. Charles noticed the
little figure behind him in the doorway.
A rather timid shrinking little figure it was now, for Mary's courage
was fast ebbing away, and she felt shy and frightened.
A few words of explanation passed between the old preacher and Mr.
Charles; then Mary was invited to enter the study.
"Now, my child," said Mr. Charles, "don't be afraid, but tell me all
about yourself, where you live, and what your name is, and what you
want."
At this Mary took courage and answered all Mr. Charles's questions,
her voice (which at first was low and tremulous) strengthening as her
courage returned. She told him all about her home and her parents, her
longing when quite a child for a Bible of her own, then of the long
years during which she had saved up her little earnings towards the
purchase of a Bible—the sum being now complete.
Then Mr. Charles examined her as to her Scripture knowledge, and
was delighted with the girl's intelligent replies, which showed how
earnestly and thoroughly she had studied the Book she loved so well.
"But how, my child," said he, "did you get to know the Bible as you do,
when you did not own one for yourself?"
Then Mary told him of the visits to the farm-house, and how, through
the kindness of the farmer and his wife, she had been able to study her
Sunday school lessons, and commit portions of Scripture to memory.
As she informed Mr. Charles of all that had taken place, and he began
to realize how brave, and patient, and earnest, and hopeful she had
been through all these years of waiting, and how far she had now come
to obtain possession of the coveted treasure, his bright face became
overshadowed, and, turning to David Edwards, he said, sadly, "I am
indeed grieved that this dear girl should have come all the way from
Llanfihangel to buy a Bible, and that I should be unable to supply her
with one. The consignment of Welsh Bibles that I received from London
last year was all sold out months ago, excepting a few copies which I
have kept for friends whom I must not disappoint. Unfortunately the
Society which has hitherto supplied Wales with the Scriptures declines
to print any more, and where to get Welsh Bibles to satisfy our
country's need I know not."
Until now, Mary had been looking up into Mr. Charles's face, with her
great, dark eyes full of hope and confidence; but as he spoke these
words to David Edwards, and she noticed his overclouded face, and began
to understand the full import of his words, the room seemed to her to
darken suddenly, and, dropping into the nearest seat, she buried her
face in her hands, and sobbed as, perhaps, few girls of her age had
ever sobbed before.
It was all over, then, she said to herself—all of no use—the prayers,
the longing, the waiting, the working, the saving for six long years,
the weary tramp with bare feet, the near prospect of her hopes being
fulfilled, all, all in vain! And to a mind so stocked with Bible texts
as hers, the language of the Psalmist seemed the natural outburst for
so great a grief, "Hath God forgotten to be gracious? Hath He in anger
shut up His tender mercies?" All in vain—all of no use! And the poor
little head, lately so erect, drooped lower and lower, and the sunburnt
hands, roughened by work and exposure, could not hide the great hot
tears that rolled down, chasing each other over cheeks out of which the
accustomed rosy tint had fled, and falling unheeded through her fingers.
There were a few moments during which only Mary's sobs broke the
silence; but those sobs had appealed to Mr. Charles's heart with a
pathos which he was wholly unable to resist.
With his own voice broken and unsteady, he said, as he rose from his
seat, and laid a hand on the drooping head of the girl before him: "My
dear child, I see you 'must' have a Bible, difficult as it is for me to
spare you one. It is impossible, yes, simply impossible, to refuse you."
In the sudden revulsion of feeling that followed these words, Mary
could not speak; but she glanced up with such a face of mingled rain
and sunshine—such a rainbow smile—such a look of inexpressible joy and
thankfulness in her brimming eyes, that the responsive tears gushed to
the eyes—both Mr. Charles and David Edwards.
Mr. Charles turned away for a moment to a book-cupboard that stood
behind him, and opening it, he drew forth a Bible.
Then, laying a hand once more on Mary's head, with the other he placed
the Bible in her grasp, and, looking down the while into the earnest,
glistening eyes upturned to him, he said:
"If you, my dear girl, are glad to receive this Bible, truly glad am I
to be able to give it to you. Read it carefully, study it diligently,
treasure up the sacred words in your memory, and act up to its
teachings."
And then, as Mary, quite overcome with delight and thankfulness, began
once more to sob, but softly, and with sweet, happy tears, Mr. Charles
turned to the old preacher, and said, huskily, "David Edwards, is not
such a sight as this enough to melt the hardest heart? A girl, so
young, so poor, so intelligent, so familiar with Scripture, compelled
to walk all the distance from Llanfihangel to Bala (about fifty miles
there and back) to get a Bible! From this day I can never rest until I
find out some means of supplying the pressing wants of my country that
cries out for the Word of God."
[Illustration: MR. CHARLES'S HOUSE AT BALA.]
Half an hour later, Mary Jones, having shared David Edwards's frugal
breakfast, set off on her homeward journey.
The day was somewhat cloudy, but the child did not notice it; her
heart was full of sunshine. The wind blew strongly, but a great calm
was in her soul, and her young face was so full of happiness that the
simple folk she met on the way could not but notice her as she tripped
blithely on, her bare feet seeming hardly to press the ground, her eyes
shining with deep content, while the wallet containing her newly-found
treasure was no longer slung across her back, but clasped close to her
bosom.
The sun rose and burst through the clouds, glorifying all the
landscape; and onward steadily went Mary, her heart, like the lark's
song, full of thanksgiving, and her voice breaking out now and again
into melody, to which the words of some old hymn or of a well-known and
much-loved text set themselves, without an effort on the girl's part.
On, still on, she went, heeding not the length and weariness of the
way; and the afternoon came, and the sun set in the western heavens
with a glory that made Mary think of the home prepared above for God's
children; that heaven with its walls of jasper, and its gates of pearl,
and its streets of gold, and its light that needs nor sun nor moon, but
streams from the Life-giving Presence of God Himself.
That evening Jacob and his wife were seated waiting for supper and
for Mary. What news would the child bring? How had she sped? Had she
received her Bible? These were some of the questions which the anxious
parents asked themselves, listening the while for their daughter's
return after the fatigues and possible dangers of her fifty miles' walk.
But the worthy couple were not long kept in suspense.
Presently the light step which they knew so well, approached the
cottage; the latch was lifted, and Mary entered, weary, foot-sore,
dusty and travel-stained indeed, but with happiness dimpling her cheeks
and flashing in her eyes. And Jacob held out both arms to his darling,
and as he clasped her to his heart, he murmured in the words of the
prophet of old, "Is it well with the child?" And Mary, from the depths
of a satisfied heart, answered solemnly, but with gladness, "It is
well."
We sometimes see—and particularly in the case of young people—that
great eagerness for the possession of some coveted article is followed
by indifference when the treasure is safely in their hands. It was not
so, however, with Mary Jones. The Bible for which she had toiled, and
waited, and prayed, and wept, became each day more precious to her. The
Word of the Lord was indeed nigh unto her, even in her mouth and in her
heart.
Chapter after chapter was learned by heart, and the study of the Sunday
school lessons became her greatest privilege and delight.
If a question were asked by the teacher, which other girls could not
answer, Mary was always appealed to, and was invariably ready with a
thoughtful, intelligent reply, while in committing to memory not only
chapters, but whole books of the Bible, she was unrivalled both in the
school and neighbourhood.
Nor was this all. For though to love, and read, and learn the Bible are
good things, this is not the sum of what is required by Him who has
said "If ye love Me, 'keep' My commandments."
Mary's study of the Word of God did not prevent the more than ever
faithful discharge of all her duties. Her mother, who had at one time
feared that Mary's desire for book learning, and longing to possess
a Bible of her own, might lead her to the neglect of her practical
duties, was surprised and delighted to see that, although there was a
change indeed in the girl, it was a change for the better.
The holy truths that sank into her heart were but the precious seed
in good ground, which brings forth fruit an hundredfold; and the more
entire the consecration of that young heart to the Lord, the sweeter
became even the commonest duties of life, because they were done for
Him.
Not very long after Mary's visit to Bala, she had the great pleasure
of seeing again the kind friend with whom, in her memory, her beloved
Bible would now always be associated.
Mr. Charles, in the course of his periodical visits to the various
villages where his circulating schools were established, came to
Abergynolwyn, to inspect the school there under the charge of Lewis
Williams, and by examining the children personally, to assure himself
of their progress.
Among the bright young faces upturned to him, his observant eye soon
caught sight of one countenance that he had cause to remember with
special and with deep interest; and the interest deepened still more,
when he found that from her alone all his most difficult questions
received replies, and that her intelligence was only surpassed by the
childlike humility which is one mark of the true Christian.
We may be very sure that Mr. Charles did not miss this opportunity of
saying a few kind words to his young friend; and that Mary in her turn
treasured them up, and remembered them through the many years and the
various events of her after life.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: BALA LAKE.]