GOOD FRIDAY EVENING
WHEN Melina told her grandmother of the service which was to be held
by Mr. Blackmore on Good Friday evening in the town hall, and asked
permission to attend it, the old woman answered, "No, certainly not";
but on hearing that there would be no charge for admission, she said,
"Well, if there'll be nothing to pay, I don't mind your going. By the
way, who's this Mr. Blackmore?"
Melina had not previously mentioned her acquaintance with the little
gentleman to her grandmother, so her response was a decided surprise to
the old woman.
"A friend of mine, Gran—a very nice gentleman who's come to live at
South View. He helps the vicar, and—"
"Oh! the lay-helper!" interposed Mrs. Berryman. "He was pointed out to
me in the town the other day—a thin little chap who wears glasses. A
friend of yours, is he, eh?" She broke into a sarcastic laugh.
"Yes, he is, Gran—really. I've known him months now—since January.
He was very kind to me once—when you were ill and sent me to buy
some groceries. Coming home I—I dropped a packet of tea, and he—Mr.
Blackmore—gave me the money to buy more, and since that, when we've
met, he has always spoken—sometimes we've had quite long talks
together. I like him so much; he is a real nice little gentleman."
"And it's he who's going to hold this service on Good Friday?"
questioned Mrs. Berryman.
Melina assented. "There's to be a magic-lantern," she explained; "did
you ever see one, Gran?"
"Yes. What time does the service commence?"
"At six o'clock, and it'll be over by eight. Agnes Brown and her
brothers are going with their mother and father, and William Jones is
going, and—"
"And I've half a mind to go myself," broke in Mrs. Berryman; "I haven't
seen a magic-lantern for years. I wonder, though, if there'll be a
collection?"
"I haven't heard that there is to be," responded Melina, who, since
her conversation with William Jones, had made full inquiries about the
forthcoming service.
The little girl was not quite pleased at the prospect of her
grandmother's company on Good Friday evening; she felt she would
much rather be by herself, but of course she did not say so. Perhaps
it would be wet on Good Friday, she reflected, and in that case her
grandmother would in all probability elect to remain at home, for the
town hall was some distance from Jubilee Terrace.
But Good Friday, when it came, was a perfect spring day, sunny and
mild, with a foretaste of summer in the air, and a quarter to six
o'clock in the evening found Mrs. Berryman and her granddaughter
arriving at the town hall together. They procured seats in a very good
position for both seeing and hearing; and then Melina looked about her
trying to find the Browns. By and by she caught sight of them, and
proceeded to call her grandmother's attention to them.
"Look, Gran," she said in an eager whisper, "there are the Browns—a few
rows in front of us, on the opposite side of the hall. Mrs. Brown's
looking at us now. She's nodded to me, and I think she's trying to nod
to you."
"Hush, child!" admonished Mrs. Berryman; nevertheless she looked at
Mrs. Brown, and returned her smiling recognition with a rather awkward
nod.
A few minutes later Melina discovered William Jones, seated well to the
front; and after that she picked out several of her schoolfellows.
Before six o'clock the hall had become crowded. Most of the people
present were of the working classes, many of whom appeared well-to-do,
whilst others showed signs of great poverty; and some there were who,
like Mrs. Berryman, never went to places of worship, and had been drawn
there because they wanted to see the magic-lantern, and would not lose
the opportunity of being entertained for nothing.
"I should think it must be nearly six o'clock," Melina said at length.
"Oh!" she cried a minute later, "there's the little gentleman!"
Unobserved by her, Mr. Blackmore had entered the hall and mounted the
platform, to the front of which he now stepped to address the assembly.
"My friends," he began, as the whispering which had been going on
suddenly ceased and all eyes were fixed upon him, "to-night I intend to
show you some pictures representing scenes from the life of Jesus; but
before I do so, I want you to join me in singing that hymn, familiar to
most of us I expect, which commences, 'There is a green hill far away';
and, whilst we sing, let us in our hearts thank Him who for our sakes
died on Mount Calvary, and think of that first Good Friday evening
nearly nineteen hundred years ago."
With one accord the whole assembly rose, and Mr. Blackmore led the
singing.
"There is a green hill far away,
Without a city wall,
Where our dear Lord was crucified
Who died to save us all."
Melina now knew the hymn all through, and she lifted up her voice with
the rest. To her great surprise her grandmother joined in the last
verse. "Fancy Gran's singing!" she thought to herself.
"Oh, dearly, dearly has He loved,
And we must love Him too,
And trust in His redeeming Blood,
And try His works to do."
The hymn concluded, Mr. Blackmore asked the people to be seated; and,
whilst they were settling down, he moved to one side, and the gas was
lowered.
The first pictures shown upon the screen, which stretched across the
back of the platform, represented scenes from the early life of Jesus.
The audience, with the keenest interest, saw the infant Saviour in
His mother's arms, the wise men kneeling in worship before Him; saw
Him, a young boy, teaching in the Temple, and, later, working at the
carpenter's bench. Then they saw Him healing the sick, preaching on
the shores of the Sea of Galilee, and blessing little children; and at
last, after Judas Iscariot had betrayed Him and Peter had denied Him,
they saw Him standing in the judgment-hall before Pontius Pilate.
Mr. Blackmore had so far explained very fully the meaning of each
picture, in such simple words as no one could fail to understand; but
when the picture of the scene in the judgment-hall was replaced by one
showing a distant hill, on the summit of which three crosses stood out
plainly against the horizon, he merely said:
"The green hill far away, on the evening of the first Good Friday."
Melina drew a breath so deep that it was almost a sob. That morning
she had read in her mother's Bible the account of the Crucifixion, so
she knew exactly what the picture was meant to tell. She gazed at it
through a mist of tears. Then all at once she became aware that her
grandmother was strangely affected. The old woman was trembling, almost
as though she was afraid.
"What is it, Gran?" Melina whispered anxiously; "are you ill?"
"No, child, no," was the response; "don't talk! Ah!" The exclamation
was full of relief.
The picture on the screen had been withdrawn, and the gas turned up.
Mr. Blackmore now came to the front of the platform again.
"That is the last picture I have to show," he said, "and I want you to
take the memory of it home with you to-night—I want you to think of
Jesus, crucified on Mount Calvary, and to remember that it was for your
salvation that He died there. You can say, each one of you, 'He died
for me.' The hymn we have sung to-night says:"
"He died that we might be forgiven,
He died to make us good,
That we might go at last to heaven,
Saved by His precious blood."
"That is true—we are saved by His precious blood. He died on the cross
that He might draw us to Himself. He wants you to go to Him—yes, all
of you, even the most sinful. He has said, 'Him that cometh to Me I
will in nowise cast out.' Oh, if there are any amongst you who have not
found Him, go to Him to-night, trusting only in Him, and He will give
you forgiveness for your sins and peace for your souls. The blood of
Jesus Christ, the blood shed on Mount Calvary on that first Good Friday
so long ago, cleanseth from all sin."
The little gentleman ceased speaking and stepped off the platform,
whilst the vicar, who had been working the lantern from the centre of
the hall, took his place and offered up a short earnest prayer, after
which the evening hymn "Glory to Thee, my God, this night" was sung
very heartily, and the assembly began to disperse.
Mrs. Berryman insisted on lingering till the hall was nearly empty,
as she did not like to be pushed about in a crowd, she said, and the
consequence was that Mr. Blackmore caught sight of her and Melina as
they rose from their seats, and, leaving the vicar, to whom he had been
talking, overtook them before they reached the door.
"I am so glad you came," he said, as he touched Melina on the arm to
attract her attention; "did you like the pictures?"
"Oh yes, sir," she answered, "they were beautiful! I—this is my
grandmother, sir," she added, as his glance turned to Mrs. Berryman.
He held out his hand to the old woman, who, rather reluctantly it
appeared, shook hands with him.
"I have often thought that I should like to know you, Mrs. Berryman,"
he said kindly; "I have known your granddaughter some time, as I dare
say she has told you?" He spoke inquiringly.
"Yes," the old woman assented.
"She was the first friend I made in Hawstock —I shall always remember
that. You know I am helping the vicar in the parish? Yes. I wonder if I
may call upon you some day? I am acquainted with your neighbour, Mrs.
Jones—"
"I don't have anything to do with my neighbours," interposed Mrs.
Berryman, in such a brusque manner that Melina blushed with shame; "I
make it a rule to keep myself to myself." She spoke as though to do
that was a virtue.
Mr. Blackmore's eyes, full of kindliness and good will, yet searching
too, were fixed gravely on the old woman's lined countenance, reading
its expression.
"I can never understand how anyone can do that," he remarked, "I am
sure that I couldn't; but then I'm naturally a sociable disposition. Do
you mean that you would rather I did not call upon you, then?"
Mrs. Berryman hesitated what response to give to this direct
question. She glanced at Melina, who was looking at her appealingly,
and, contrary to her custom, decided to show consideration for her
granddaughter's feelings.
"I did mean that," she answered, "but if you like to call, sir, please
do."
"Thank you," said the little gentleman.
He did not prolong the conversation further, but said "good night"; and
after that Melina and her grandmother left the hall and turned their
footsteps homewards. It was a lovely night, with a clear sky, bright
with stars, and a soft breeze which was very refreshing.
"Now you know Mr. Blackmore, Gran," the little girl remarked; "what do
you think of him?"
"I think he means well," Mrs. Berryman admitted; "he seems very
earnest, and he evidently believes all he talked about to-night—about
Jesus having died for our sakes."
"Oh yes!" Melina's voice was full of eagerness. "Are you glad you went
with me?" she inquired.
"Glad? No."
"Didn't you like the pictures?"
"Well enough, but I wish now I hadn't gone to see them."
"Oh, why?"
"Because I don't want Mr. Blackmore to call on me, and I had to say he
might as he'd been kind to you. I don't want to have anything to do
with strangers—I want to be left alone."
Melina thought it wise to make no response to this. She walked on by
her grandmother's side in silence for a while, but presently she said:
"I'm so happy to-night, Gran, that I feel I must speak of it. My heart
is very, very glad."
"Indeed! Why?"
"I think it's because I've learnt to love Jesus," was the softly-spoken
admission.
"Love Jesus?" echoed Mrs. Berryman, in amazement.
"Yes," the little girl said, a thrill of deep earnestness in her voice;
"I really do love Him, and I'm going to be a Christian if I can." The
eyes she raised, as she spoke, to her companion's face shone with a
bright, steady light.
"Well," exclaimed her grandmother with emphasis, "this beats anything I
ever heard in my life!"