" Not a bit of it," cried Aunt Judy, warmly; "I don't suppose the man
who wrote the story ever saw Watts's hymns, or intended to teach
anything half as good. It's mamma's moral. She told me she had
screwed it out of the story, though she doubted whether it was meant
to be there."
"And what's the rest of the story then?" inquired No. 3, whose
curiosity was aroused.
"Well! when the old Doctor found the world as it was, so 'SLOW,' as
you very unmeaningly call it, he took to conjuring and talking with
evil spirits by way of amusement; and then they easily persuaded him
to be wicked, merely because it gave him something fresh and exciting
to do."
"Watts's hymn again! I told you so!" exclaimed No. 3. "But the
story's all nonsense from beginning to end. Nobody can conjure, or
talk to evil spirits in reality, so the whole thing is impossible;
and where you find the moral, I don't know."
No. 3 leant back and yawned as he concluded.
He was rather disappointed that nothing more entertaining had come
out of the story of Dr. Faustus.
But Aunt Judy had by no means done.
"Impossible about conjuring and actually TALKING to evil spirits,
certainly," said she; "but spiritual influences, both bad and good,
come to us all, No. 3, without bodily communion; so for those who are
inclined to feel like Dr. Faustus, there is both a moral and a
warning in his fate."
"I don't know what about," cried No. 3. "I think he was uncommonly
stupid, after all he had learnt, to get into such a mess. Why, you
yourself are always trying to make out that the more people labour
and learn, the more sure they are to keep out of mischief. Now then,
how do you account for the story of your friend Dr. Faustus?"
"Because, like King Solomon, he did not labour and learn in a right
spirit, or to a right end," replied Aunt Judy. "Lord Bacon remarks
that when, after the Creation, God 'looked upon everything He had
made, behold it was VERY GOOD;' whereas when man 'turned him about,'
and took a view of the world and his own labours in it, he found that
'all' was 'vanity and vexation of spirit.' Why did he come to such a
different conclusion, do you think?"
"I suppose because the world had got bad, before King Solomon's
time," suggested No. 3.
"Its inhabitants had," replied Aunt Judy. "They had become subject
to sin and misery; but the world was still God's creation, and proofs
of the 'very good' which He had pronounced over it were to be found
in every direction, and even in fallen man, if Solomon had had the
sense, or rather I should say, good feeling to look for them. Ah!
No. 3, there was plenty to be learnt and done that would NOT have
ended in 'vanity and vexation of spirit' if Solomon had LEARNT in
order to trace out the glory of God, instead of establishing his own;
and if he had WORKED to create, as far as was in his power, a world
of happiness for other people, instead of seeking nothing but his own
amusement. If he had worked in the spirit of God, in short."
"But who can?--Nobody," exclaimed No. 3.
"Yes, everybody, who tries, can, to a certain extent," said Aunt
Judy. "It only wants the right feeling; some of the good God-like
feeling which originated the creation of a beautiful world, and
caused the contemplation of it to produce the sublime complacency
which is described, 'And God looked upon everything that He had made,
and behold it was very good.'"
"It's a sermon, Judy," cried No. 3, half bored, yet half amused at
the notion of her preaching; "I'll set up a pulpit for you at once,
shall I?"
"No, no, be quiet, No. 3," exclaimed Aunt Judy, "I wish you would try
and understand what I say!"
"Well, then," said No. 3, "it appears to me that do what one might
now the world has grown bad, it would be impossible to pronounce that
'VERY GOOD,' as the result of one's work. There would always be
something miserable and unsatisfactory at the end of everything; I
mean even if one really was to look into things closely, and work for
other people's good, as you say."
"There might be SOMETHING miserable and unsatisfactory, in the
result, certainly," answered Aunt Judy; "but that it would ALL be
'vanity and vexation of spirit' I deny. Our blessed Saviour came
into the world after it had grown bad, remember; and He worked solely
for the restoration of the 'very good,' which sin had defaced. It
was undoubtedly MISERABLE and UNSATISFACTORY that He should be
rejected by the very creatures He came to help; but when He uttered
the words 'It is finished,' the work which He had accomplished, He
might well have looked upon and called very good: very very good;
even beyond the creation, were that possible."
"There can be no comparison between our Saviour and us," murmured No.
3.
"No," replied his sister; "but only let people work in the same
direction, and they will have more 'profit' of their 'labour,' than
King Solomon ever owned to, who had, one fears, only learnt, in order
to be learned, and worked, to please himself. No man who employs
himself in tracing out God's footsteps IN the world, or in working in
God's spirit FOR the world, will ever find such labours end in
'vanity and vexation of spirit!' Solomon, Dr. Faustus, and the
grumblers, have only themselves to thank for their disappointment."
"It's very curious," observed No. 3, getting up, and stretching
himself over the fire, "I mean about Solomon and Dr. Faustus. But
what can one do? What can you or I do? It's absurd to be fancying
one can do good to one's fellow-creatures."
"Nevertheless, there is one I want you to do good to, at the present
moment," said Aunt Judy--"if it is not actually raining. Don't you
remember what despair No. 1 was in this morning, when father sent her
off on the pony in such a hurry."
"Ah, that pony! That was just what I wanted myself," interrupted No.
3.
"Exactly, of course," replied Aunt Judy. "But you were not the
messenger father wanted, so do not let us go all over that ground
again, pray. The fact was, No. 1 had just heard that her pet 'Tawny
Rachel' was very ill, and she wanted to go and see her, and give her
some good advice, and I am to go instead. Now No. 3, suppose you go
instead of me, and save me a wet walk?"
No. 3, of course, began by protesting that it was not possible that
he could do any good to an old woman. Old women were not at all in
his way. He could only say, how do you do? and come away.
Aunt Judy disputed this: she thought he could offer her some
creature comforts, and ask whether she had seen the Doctor, and what
he said, as No. 1 particularly wished to know.
What an idea! No, no; he must decline inquiring what the Doctor
said; it would be absurd; but he could offer her something to eat.
- And just ask if she had had the Doctor.--Well, just that, and come
away. It would not occupy many minutes. But he wished, while Aunt
Judy was about it, she had found him something rather LONGER to do!
Aunt Judy promised to see what could be devised on his return, and
No. 3 departed. And a very happily chosen errand it was; for it
happened in this case, as it so constantly does happen, that what was
begun for other people's sake, ended in personal gratification. No.
3 went to see "Tawny Rachel," out of good-natured compliance with
Aunt Judy's request, but found an interest and amusement in the visit
itself, which he had not in the least expected.
Ten, twenty, thirty, minutes elapsed, and he had not returned; and
when he did so at last, he burst into the house far more like an
avalanche than a young gentleman who could find "nothing to do."
Coming in the back way, he ran into the kitchen, and told the
servants to get some hot water ready directly, for he was sure
something would be wanted. Then, passing forward, he shouted to know
where his mother was, and, having found her, entreated she would
order some comfortable, gruelly stuff or other, to be made for the
sick old woman, particularly insisting that it should have ale or
wine, as well as spice and sugar in it.
He was positive that that was just what she ought to have! She had
said how cold she was, and how glad she should be of something to
warm her inside; and there was nobody to do anything for her at home.
What a shame it was for a poor old creature like that to be left with
only two dirty boys to look after her, and they always at play in the
street! Her daughter and husband were working out, and she sat
moaning over the fire, from pain, without anybody to care!
* * *
Tender-hearted and impulsive, if thoughtless, the spirit of No. 3 had
been moved within him at the spectacle of the gaunt old woman in this
hour of her lonely suffering.
Poor "Tawny Rachel!" The children had called her so, from the
heroine of Mrs. Hannah More's tale, because of those dark gipsy eyes
of hers, which had formerly given such a fine expression to her
handsome but melancholy face. Melancholy, because care-worn from the
long life's struggle for daily bread, for a large indulged family,
who scarcely knew, at the day of her death, that she had worn herself
out for their sakes.
Poor "Tawny Rachel!" She was one day asked by a well-meaning
shopkeeper, of whom she had purchased a few goods, WHERE SHE THOUGHT
SHE WAS GOING TO?"
"Tawny Rachel" turned her sad eyes upon her interrogator, and made
answer:-
"Going to? why where do you think I'm going to, but to Heaven?--
'Deed! where do you think I'm going to, but to Heaven?" she repeated
to herself slowly, as if to recover breath; and then added, "I should
like to know who Heaven is for, if not for such as me, that have
slaved all their lives through, for other folk;" and so saying, Tawny
Rachel turned round again, and went away.
Poor "Tawny Rachel!" The theology was imperfect enough; but so had
been her education and advantages. Yet as surely as her scrupulous,
never-failing honesty, and unmurmuring self-denial, must have been
inspired by something beyond human teaching; so surely did it prove
no difficult task to her spiritual guide, to lead her onwards to
those simple verities of the Christian Faith, which, in her case,
seemed to solve the riddle of a weary, unsatisfactory life, and,
confiding in which, the approach of death really became to her, the
advent of the Prince of Peace.
* * *
"But she had quite cheered up," remarked No. 3, "at the notion of
something comforting and good," and so--he had "come off at once."
"At once!"--the exclamation came from Aunt Judy, who had entered the
room, and was listening to the account. "Why, No. 3, you must have
been there an hour at least. And nevertheless I dare say you have
forgotten about the Doctor."
"The Doctor!" cried No. 3, laughing,--"It's the Doctor who has kept
me all this time. You never heard such fun in your life,--only he's
an awful old rascal, I must say!"
Mamma and Aunt Judy gazed at No. 3 in bewilderment. The respectable
old village practitioner, who had superintended all the deceases in
the place for nearly half a century--to be called "an awful old
rascal" at last! What could No. 3 be thinking of?
Certainly not of the respectable village practitioner, as he soon
explained, by describing the arrival at Tawny Rachel's cottage of a
travelling quack with a long white beard.
"My dear No. 3!" exclaimed mamma.
"Mother, dear, I can't help it!" cried No. 3, and proceeded to relate
that while he was sitting with the old woman, listening to the
account of her aches and pains, some one looked in at the door, and
asked if she wanted anything; but, before she could speak, remarked
how ill she seemed, and said he could give her something to do her
good. "Judy!" added No. 3, breaking suddenly off; "he looked just
like Dr. Faustus, I'm sure!"
"Never mind about that," cried Aunt Judy. "Tell us what Tawny Rachel
said."
"Oh, she called out that he MUST GIVE it, if she was to have it, for
she had nothing to pay for it with. I had a shilling in my pocket,
and was just going to offer it, when I recollected he would most
likely do her more harm than good. But the gentleman with the white
beard walked in immediately, set his pack down on the table, and
said, 'Then, my good woman, I SHALL give it you;' and out he brought
a bottle, tasted it before he gave it to her, and promised her that
it would cure her if she took it all."
"My dear No. 3!" repeated mamma once more.
"Yes, I know she can't be cured, mother, and I think she knows it
too; but still she 'TOOK IT VERY KIND,' as she called it, of him, and
asked him if he would like to 'rest him' a bit by the fire, and the
gentleman accepted the invitation; and there we all three sat, for
really I quite enjoyed seeing him, and he began to warm his hands,
remarking that the young gentleman--that was I, you know--looked very
well. Oh, Judy, I very nearly said 'Thank you, Dr. Faustus,' but I
only laughed and nodded, and really did hold my tongue; and then the
two began to talk, and it was as good as any story you ever invented,
Aunt Judy. Tawny Rachel was very inquisitive, and asked him:-
"'You've come a long way, sir, I suppose?'
"'Yes, ma'am; I'm a great traveller, and have been so a many years.'
"'It's a wonder you have not settled before now.'
"'I might have settled, ma'am, a many times.'
"'Ah, when folks once begin wandering, they can't settle down. You
were, maybe, brought up to it.'
"'I was brought up to something a deal better than that, ma'am.'
"'You was, sir? It's a pity, I'm sure.'
"'My father was physician to Queen Elizabeth, ma'am, a many years.'"
When No. 3 arrived at this point of the dialogue, mamma and Aunt Judy
both exclaimed at once, and the former repeated once more the
expostulatory "My dear No. 3!" which delighted No. 3, who proceeded
to assure them that he had himself interrupted the travelling quack
here, by suggesting that it was Queen Charlotte he meant.
"Old Queen Charlotte, you know, Judy, that No. 1 was telling the
children about the other day."
But the "gentleman," as No. 3 called him, had turned very red at the
doubt thus thrown on his accuracy, and put a rather threatening croak
into his voice, as he said:-
"Asking your pardon, young gentleman, I know what I'm saying, and it
was Queen Elizabeth, and not Charlotte nor anybody else!"
No. 3 described that he felt it best, after this, to hold his tongue
and say no more, so Tawny Rachel put in her word, and remarked, it
was a wonder the queen hadn't made their fortunes; on which the
gentleman turned rather red again, and said that the queen did make
their fortune, but wouldn't let them keep it, for fear they should be
too great and too rich--that was it! This statement required a
little explanation, but the gentleman was ready with all particulars.
The queen used to pay his father by hundreds of pounds at a time,
because that was due to him, but being jealous of his having so much
money, she always set some one to take it away from him as he left
the place! So that was the reason why these was no fortune put by
for him after his father died, and that was the reason why he
couldn't very well settle at first, though everybody wished him to
stay, and SO he took to travelling; for his father had left him all
his secrets, and he was qualified to practise anywhere, and had cured
some thousands of sick folks up and down!
No. 3 declared that he had not made the old man's account of himself
a bit more unconnected than it really was, and, on the whole, it
sounded very imposing to poor Tawny Rachel, who watched his departure
with a sort of respectful awe.
No. 3 added, that not liking to disturb her faith either in the man
or the bottle, he had himself helped her to the first dose, and had
then begun to talk about the creature comforts before described, the
very mention of which seemed to cheer the old lady's heart, and to
interest her at least as much as the biography of the travelling
quack.
"So now, mother," concluded he, "order the gruel, and we'll give
three cheers for Queen Elizabeth, and Dr. Faustus--eh, Judy? But I
do think the poor old thing ought not to take that man's poisonous
rubbish; so here's my shilling, and welcome, if you'll give some
more, and let us send for a real doctor."
The "nothing-to-do" morning had nearly slipped away, between the
conversation with Aunt Judy, and the visit to Tawny Rachel; and when,
soon after, a friend called to take No. 3 off on a fossil hunt, and
he had to snatch a hasty morsel before his departure, he declared he
was like the poor governess in the song, who was sure to
"Find out,
With attention and zeal,
That she'd scarcely have time
To partake of a meal,"
there was so much to do. "But you're a capital fellow, Judy," he
added, kissing her, "and you'll tell me a story when I come back;"
and off he ran, shutting his ears to Aunt Judy's declaration that she
only told stories to the "little ones."
Nor would she, on his return, and during the cozy evening "nothing-
to-do" hour, consent to devote herself to his especial amusement
only. So, after arguing the point for a time, he very wisely
yielded, and declared at last that he would be a "little one" too,
and listen to a "little one's" story, if Aunt Judy would tell one.
It was rather late when this was settled, and the little ones had
stayed up-stairs to play at a newly-invented game--bazaars--in the
nursery; but when No. 3 strode in with the announcement of the story,
there was a shout of delight, followed by the old noisy rush down-
stairs to the dining-room.
It is not a bad thing to be a "little one" now and then in spirit.
People would do well to try and be so oftener. Who that has looked
upon a picture of himself as a "little one," has not wished that he
could be restored to the "little one's" spirit, the "little one's"
innocence, the "little one's" hopeful trust? "Of such is the kingdom
of Heaven!" And though none of us would like to live our lives over
again, lest our errors should be repeated, and so doubled in guilt,
all of us, at the sight of what we once were, would fain, very fain,
if we could, lie down to sleep, and awake a "little one" again.
Never, perhaps, is the sweet mercy of an early death brought so
closely home to our apprehension, as when the grown-up, care-worn man
looks upon the image of himself as a child.
Happily, however--nay, more than happily, MERCIFULLY--the grown-up
man, if he do but put on the humility, may gain something of the
peace of a "little one's" heart!
Aunt Judy had twisted up a roll of muslin for a turban on her head by
the time they came down, "for," said she, "this is to be an eastern
tale, and I shall not be inspired--that is to say, I shall not get on
a bit--unless there is a costume and manners to correspond, so you
three little ones squat yourselves down Turkish-fashion on the floor,
with your legs tucked under you. There now! that's something like,
and I begin to feel myself in the East. Nevertheless, I am rather
glad there is no critical Eastern traveller at hand, listening
through the key-hole to my blunders.