New Homes.
[Illustration] MR. RUSSELL and Dr. Turner had soon found out how
extremely ignorant Peter was. In the neighbourhood of his poor home,
the name of God was seldom used except in blasphemy. That name Peter
knew, and that was almost all. They were anxious to teach him better
things, and now that he was obliged to lie quiet, they wished to sow
the precious seed of God's Word, in the hope that it might take root
and bring forth fruit to God's glory and Peter's eternal good.
"I believe a child would be the best teacher for Peter," said Dr.
Turner. "Let your little girl come and read to him. She is sure to
repeat her mother's lessons in the boy's ears, and we can guide her as
to what she should read."
Little Alice knew nothing except that she was to be allowed to read to
the poor boy in the hospital, but she was delighted to go and ask her
mamma for a copy of "The Old, Old Story," first to read to, then leave
with Peter. This was readily given to her, as we have seen.
To Peter the little book was a great treasure. He read it again,
and the more he read, the more he wondered. He wished for his child
visitor's return, and his face flushed with pleasure as he saw her
coming softly towards his corner of the ward.
"I've read the story three times over," he said, without waiting for
any greetings from Alice.
"And you like it, don't you?"
"Yes, only I don't understand what it means."
"I've brought my Bible, and that will tell you. Doesn't it seem strange
to have such a big book to make us understand that little thing? But
you see that 'Old, Old Story' is just Bible story turned into verses."
It would take too long to tell the particulars of Alice's lessons
to Peter. She was eager to tell, and he to learn. He asked endless
questions, and she began by reading first the story of Adam and Eve,
and then other portions of Scripture, so that he might learn about
Jesus.
How the lad was charmed with the account of the Babe of Bethlehem,
cradled in a manger! Then of the Great Physician healing all manner of
sickness, and enabling the lame to walk, all in a moment, the blind to
see, and the dumb to speak.
He learned that Christmas, with its gaily-decked shops, its ruddy
holly-berries and shining mistletoe, its good cheer and kind wishes,
had a deeper better meaning. He saw that it was a remembrance of
the time when the angels came with their song, "Glory to God in the
highest, and on earth peace, goodwill towards men."
He, lying there helpless, realised as few can do, what joy it would be
to hear the Saviour say, "Arise, take up thy bed and walk." And he,
who had often known what hunger was, seemed to see the bountiful Giver
blessing the loaves and feeding the hungry multitude in the wilderness.
He wanted to know what had become of Jesus. Where was now this Saviour?
So, day by day, little by little, Peter heard the whole story, not only
of the life, but the death of Christ, and of His being now exalted "a
Prince and a Saviour" at the right hand of God. He lay and thought of
these wondrous things—so old a story, yet to him so new. And then he
said, "Surely He could not die for me. I was not living then."
Then the elders came in to little Alice's aid as teachers, and strove
to make plain what she could not. When Peter understood at last that
he too had a share in that great Saviour, his heart was filled with
grateful gladness and a wish to do something to show his gratitude.
Many read the story without a thought of love to this dear Saviour.
But, to the poor lad who now heard it for the first time, it seemed
wonderful that anybody could help loving Jesus.
Time sped, and Peter continued to recover steadily. He wondered
whether, after all, he should have to go back to Number Three Court,
Back Potter Street, and begin his old trade again. He shrank from the
thought of it. He had had a glimpse of a new and better life, and he
longed to see more. The hospital had been to Peter a precious ark
of refuge. He would never think of it as the scene of his pain and
suffering, but of healing and peace for soul and body.
Back Potter Street and its courts had dirt and squalor, rough, coarse
actions, and impure words as their constant surroundings. And even old
Sally, with all her love, had been able to tell him nothing of that
love "which passeth knowledge." He wanted to go on learning himself,
and that his old friend should become a scholar too. How was this to be
brought about?
The day drew near when Peter would be discharged cured. While anxious
to work, he was almost afraid to think about going out into his world
again. He would have to bid farewell to the motherly nurse who had been
so tender and kind; to the doctors, whose skill had been the means of
his cure; and, above all, to the child-teacher who had first brought to
him the message of the gospel. Why, in leaving the hospital, he would
turn his back on the best home he had ever known. Peter's fears and
doubts were soon set at rest. His friends had been busy for him, and,
after having shown so much kindness, would not now leave him to battle
with the world alone.
"So you are to go out to-day, Peter," said Dr. Turner, on the morning
fixed for the lad's discharge.
"Yes, sir," answered Peter. "I told Sally about it last time she was
here."
"That is all right enough; but we are not going to let you out of our
hands altogether yet. We have a nice place belonging to the hospital,
a few miles away in the country. It is called a 'Convalescent Home,'
and it is for patients to go to, who, like you, are well, but not very
strong. You are to go there for three weeks to get up your strength and
learn something about flowers and fields and green trees."
Peter could hardly believe his ears. What, go away into the country,
where little Alice told him the sky was so blue and the air so fresh,
and filled with the smell of flowers and the song of birds!
"By the way," said the doctor, "it will be rather early for flowers,
but the air of spring time is sweeter than any. You will come back with
checks like roses."
The boy tried to speak his thanks, but broke down in the attempt, and
then said something about what old Sally would do without him.
"She has managed so far, Peter, and you may safely trust her to Mr.
Russell and me. She is coming to see you before you go to the 'Home.'"
Peter said good-bye to his old friend, and was a little surprised to
see her in such good spirits.
What a delightful three weeks was that which followed. All was new,
strange, and beautiful. Peter's delight was only equalled by his wonder
at the marvellous works of God. Peter saw Dr. Turner two or three
times, and that kind friend promised that, at the appointed time, he
would take him home. And so he did.
Was it to the poor cellar in Back Potter Street, Number Three Court?
No, indeed. The doctor took him to a neat little cottage with just two
rooms—one of a long row, and farther out of the town, and there he saw
his old friend Sally Graham.
"Eh, my boy!" shrieked the old woman, as she seized his hand, her eyes
overflowing with gladness. "See what the doctor and Mr. Russell have
got for me; this nice little house, and I'm to have it as long as I
live, and a bit of money to keep me in victuals, too. And you 'are'
looking red and stout! Who'd have thought such luck would come out of
your broken leg on New Year's Eve?"
Who, indeed? But there was more "luck" still, as Sally called it. The
two gentlemen had exerted themselves so well that they had gained a
place for Peter in an excellent school, where he would be fed, taught,
lodged, and clothed almost free of cost.
This arrangement would not allow Peter to live under the same roof
with his old friend, and at first she could scarcely bear the idea of
parting with him. But the school and the almshouses in which Sally was
to find a home belonged to the same institution.
She would see her lad often, and he could spend his weekly half-holiday
there. Beside, it would be "a grand thing for the lad;" and this
conquered all objections.
What a change it was both for the boy and the old woman! Instead of
the racket, the dirt, and the evil habits and language of Back Potter
Street, were quiet, order, cleanliness, and decent behaviour. And,
instead of jacket-mending by old Sally, and marble-playing in the court
for Peter, they both sat on Sunday in the same church, learning more of
that old, yet ever new story of "Jesus and His love."
With all Peter's desire to do his best and show his deep gratitude to
the kind friends who had been so good to him, he found it very hard at
first to obey rules and learn lessons. After the free, uncontrolled
street life to which he had been accustomed from infancy, it was a most
difficult matter to sit still for any length of time. But Peter fought
against inclination, because he knew restraint was for his good; and
his friends encouraged him to persevere. Above all, Peter had by this
time learned another, and very precious lesson—he had learned to pray;
and when the battle was too much for him to fight alone, he sought
strength from God.
Peter was, of course, a very backward scholar, and had to sit side by
side with boys not much above half his age for a time. But a boy who
works and prays is sure to get on, and Peter made fair progress. When
three more New Years' Days had passed, there was a consultation between
Dr. Turner and Mr. Russell as to what Peter must do to earn his living.
No boy could stay in that school after sixteen years of age; and if
Peter had not been so very backward to begin with, he must have left
earlier still.
"I like the lad," said Dr. Turner; "and I would take him to learn
my own profession, but he began his education so late that it would
require many years of study beyond the ordinary time to fit him for it."
"Peter is cut out for a tradesman," said Mr. Russell. "His early
experience and natural sharpness will come in well behind a counter,
though a hard student he could never be."
[Illustration: PETER'S NEW MASTER.]
The doctor agreed to this, and Peter was apprenticed to a grocer. He
gained great favour from his master, and repaid it by doing "with his
might" whatever his hand found to do.
Old Sally lived to see her lad prospering in the world. Amongst the
lady customers whom Peter served with his own hand was one whom he
first knew as the little girl—Alice Russell—that read to him the "Old,
Old Story" as he lay helpless in the hospital, many years before. We
may be sure that it was with willing service, he supplied her wants at
all times.
Twenty years after Peter was apprenticed, and longer still after that
New Year's Eve which was the turning-point in his life, he sat at his
desk writing a letter.
It was the last evening of the year, and his thoughts were going back
to that stormy December night when he was carried, hurt and senseless,
to the hospital. What changes these four and twenty years had brought!
Here was Peter Grant, once a seller of baked potatoes, and living in a
cellar, now the prosperous and wealthy tradesman. He had followed kind
Dr. Turner to the grave with a heavy heart, several years before. Yet
his good friend had not forgotten the lad whom he had helped to lift
out of vice and poverty. He had no son of his own, or any very near
relative, so he left Peter a sum of money, which enabled him to become
a partner in the business. He is sole master now, for his old employer
and partner has retired.
And Peter has little children of his own, and a bright home, and he
is "Mr. Grant" to everybody. He has heard that the hospital which
sheltered him is in want of more help than usual; that there is not
room enough, and that if one thousand pounds could be given, and a new
wing built, the sick and poor might find shelter enough and to spare.
Peter was a grateful lad; he is a grateful man now he has the means to
do good. And as he writes the letter I spoke of, there is a happy look
on his pleasant face.
The children are drumming at the countinghouse door, for "father" has
promised to come and romp with them. He always gives the little folks
a party on New Year's Eve, and enjoys inside the shutters a repetition
of those sounds to which he once listened while leaning against the
railings outside, amid the falling snow.
"I will come directly, children," he says. And while he answers, he
seals his letter, first enclosing a slip of paper torn out of a book,
to which he adds some writing.
Then father joins the children and the romp begins anew.
On New Year's Day, the treasurer of the hospital received a letter, and
after reading it, he went with a joyful face to tell some good news.
"A gentleman," said he—"I am not to tell his name, or any
particulars—has sent a note enclosing a cheque for a thousand pounds
to build the new wing we want so much. He writes that, as a poor
boy, he received shelter, healing, and, what is better than all,
the first sound of those 'glad tidings' that the angels brought at
Christmas-tide, while he was under the roof of the hospital. And now
God has prospered him, and he desires to impart to others the same
benefits so freely bestowed on him many a year ago."
There were many, dear children, who had no idea where that letter and
the money came from. But I can tell you that the thousand pounds which
paid for building the new wing to the hospital was nothing else but
Grateful Peter's New Year's Gift.
God will take care of you. All through the day
Jesus is near you to keep you from ill,
Waking or resting, at work or at play.
Jesus is with you, and watching you still.
He will take care of you, All through the night
Jesus the Shepherd, His little one keeps;
Darkness to Him is the same as the light,
He never slumbers, and He never sleeps.
He will take care of you. All through the year
Crowning each day with His kindness and love,
Sending you blessings, and shielding from fear,
Leading you on to that bright home above.
He will take care of you. Yes, to the end
Nothing can alter His love for His own;
Children, be glad that you have such a Friend;
He will not leave you one moment alone.
[Illustration]
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LONDON: KNIGHT, PRINTER, MIDDLE STREET, ALDERSGATE, E. C.