GOOD RESOLUTIONS NOT KEPT.
Four years of Charlie's life soon passed swiftly away in his pleasant
and happy home. He is now twelve years of age, and has grown a tall,
strong, healthy boy. His blue eyes are just as merry, and his frank,
fearless face as sunburnt, as when we first made his acquaintance on the
pier. He is generous, grateful, and affectionate, and John Heedman and
his wife--his good "father and mother," as he calls them now--are very
dear to him.
I need scarcely tell you that they have never regretted adopting him,
and could not love him better, or be more proud of him, if he were their
own son. They have found him from the first clever at his learning, and
painstaking; full of gratitude and love to themselves; honest and
truthful; anxious to serve God, and really trying to do so in his way.
But one thing has troubled them: for the last two years they have seen
him gradually giving himself up more and more to the dangerous habit of
"putting off." He had become, unconsciously, a very slave to it; it
required quite an effort on his part to do any duty at once.
Perhaps some boys who read this are inclined to exclaim, "Was that all?"
But if they think for a moment, I am sure they will see that it is very
dangerous, _because_ they are inclined to think lightly of it.
Procrastination, or the habit of "putting off," is one of Satan's great
temptations. Many a boy may be tempted to give way to it who would
shrink from telling an untruth, or committing any flagrant sin; but
Satan knows well enough how soon and how surely it will _lead_ them into
sin.
Unfortunately, Charlie had no idea how this habit was creeping upon him;
he always contrived to find some excuse for putting off that satisfied
himself if it did not satisfy others; and when it led him to do wrong,
or into misfortune of any kind, he always fancied that something or some
one else was to blame.
"Charlie," said Mrs. Heedman one morning, just before school-time, "did
you learn your lessons last night?"
"No, mother," answered Charlie; "I can learn them this morning; there's
time enough."
"Do get your books then, and begin; you have only a quarter of an hour."
"All right, mother dear," he answered, gaily; "I'll get them in a
minute; there's time enough;" but Charlie was very much interested in
teaching his dog Jumper to sit up, and kept putting off until at last
the quarter of an hour was gone, and he found he had only just time to
get to school. Grumbling at the time for flying so quickly, he snatched
up one of his school books, threw his satchel with the rest over his
shoulder, and started off at a quick pace, learning his lesson as he
went. Of course he could not always look where he was going, and the
consequence was he knocked up against people, and trod on their toes,
and so far from apologizing in his ill-humour, he declared to himself
that "it served them right; why didn't they get out of his way?"
The clock struck nine: Charlie was desperate; he quickened his pace
almost to a run, and taking a last glance at his lesson as he turned the
corner, he came with a crash against a lamp-post, that sent him
backwards, his book flying out of his hand, his forehead bruised, and
his nose bleeding.
Poor Charlie sat on the ground almost stunned, and scarcely knowing for
the moment what it was, or where he was. At last he got slowly up,
gathered his books together, and turned towards home, holding his
handkerchief to his bruised face, and feeling very miserable.
"It was all that stupid old lamp-post, mother!" he said angrily, when
he was telling his tale to her.
"No, no, Charlie," said Mrs. Heedman; "was it not that stupid Charlie
Scott, who did not look where he was going?"
It was no use going to school that morning. The bruises were doctored,
and Charlie, after learning his lessons, took up an interesting book. He
was fond of reading, and was soon deep in the contents.
"Just run into Mrs. Brown's, next door, Charlie, will you, and ask if
she can let me have the bread tin I lent her yesterday," said Mrs.
Heedman.
"Yes, mother, in a minute," answered Charlie, still reading on, and
thinking, "There's time enough; I dare say the bread is not ready."
After a short time she spoke again, "Come, Charlie, I'm waiting."
"Yes, mother, I'm coming," said Charlie, getting half off his chair, but
still keeping his eyes on the book. "I'll just finish this chapter," he
thought; there were only two sentences to read. When it was finished, he
looked up, and saw his mother had gone herself for the tin. She came in,
looking weary and tired, for she had had a busy morning, and Charlie's
conscience smote him.
"Oh, mother, I'm so sorry," he exclaimed. "I thought I had time enough
to finish the chapter."
"Charlie, I do wish you would learn to do a thing at once. I cannot bear
to hear you so constantly saying 'There's time enough,'" said his
mother; "it makes me tremble for your future. A cousin of mine was led
into sin, and misery, and poverty, and at last died at enmity with his
father, and unreconciled to God, through 'putting off.' He gave way to
the habit when he was a boy, and it grew up with him unchecked."
Charlie was rather frightened at hearing this, and inwardly made some
good resolutions; but as they were made in his own strength alone, you
will not be surprised to hear they were soon swept away: however, he
made, as he thought, a very fair beginning. When he was called to
dinner, he laid down his book and went at once--I am afraid there was
not much credit due to him for that, for he was very hungry,--and he got
ready and set off in good time for afternoon school.
"Be sure you come straight home, Charlie," said Mrs. Heedman as he was
going out; "your father's cough was worse this morning, and I want you
to run along to the pit with some warm wrappings for him; the evenings
are chilly now, and he feels the cold when he comes up."
"All right, mother dear, I'll not forget," said Charlie, waving his cap
to her as he went out of the gate. He was in an extra good humour with
himself for having made the good resolutions we told you of, and for
having done so well since, quite forgetting that even the desire to do
better came from God.
The moment school was over, one of the boys caught hold of Charlie's
arm, and launched into a glowing description of a ship "nearly two feet
long," that had been made a present to him, finishing off with "She's
splendid, and that's just all about it. I am going now to name her, and
launch her in that big pond in Thompson's field. Come along," he said,
drawing Charlie in the direction of the field as he spoke; "you shall
give her the name, and I'll launch her."
"I'm afraid I can't go," said Charlie, looking miserable, and making a
faint effort to get his arm from Tom Brown's grasp.
"Why?" asked Tom.
"Because I promised to go straight home; and I have to take some clothes
for father to the pit."
"Oh, that's it, is it?" exclaimed Tom. "Well, then, look here, your
father won't be ready for nearly half an hour yet--I know what time they
come up,--and you'll be wandering about there, cooling your heels, when
you might as well be here."
"If I hadn't promised," thought Charlie, with a longing look in the
direction of the pond.
"You needn't stay long," urged Tom. "The ship is close by; I hid her
amongst some bushes so as not to have to go home again."
"Don't go; remember your promise," whispered Charlie's conscience. "But
I want to go so much," answered Charlie's selfish little heart.
"Don't go, it would be ungrateful: think of your father's kindness to
you," whispered the voice again. "I'm not ungrateful, and I mean to take
the clothes," Charlie's heart answered, angrily.
The voice began to whisper again, something about it being a temptation,
and he ought to ask God's help, but Charlie turned a deaf ear.
Tom Brown, seeing Charlie hesitate, felt pretty sure he would give in.
Leaving loose of his arm, and moving off towards the field, he said, in
a careless tone, "Come, make up your mind; do one thing or the other.
I don't care whether you go or not, only I can tell you you'll not have
such a chance again; Joe Denton would have jumped at it."
[Illustration: CHARLIE AND THE TEMPTATION.]
This had just the effect Tom intended. Charlie hurried after him,
saying, "Well, let us be quick then. I'll just stay five minutes; I
daresay there's time enough."
The scruples of Charlie's conscience were silenced. Conscience is a
dangerous thing to play with, and it should be the prayer of every youth
that God would strengthen him to keep his conscience tender; never mind
if it be difficult sometimes to maintain a good conscience: in the end,
as years go on, you will be thankful to find that it preserves from many
a snare, and gives a pleasure, and gains the confidence of those around
you.
The launching went off most successfully, but the time had flown much
quicker than the boys had any idea of. Charlie was in full enjoyment of
the honour of guiding the _Fairy_ on her trial trip round the pond, when
he was terribly startled at hearing the church clock strike five. In a
moment he had dropped the string, caught up his satchel of books, and
started off towards home.
"Here, I say, wait a bit," called Tom after him; "what's the use of
hurrying now? Your father would be at home long since; you may as well
stay another hour now." Charlie did not even stay to listen, but tore
along the dusty road, angry with himself, and still more angry with Tom.
He reached home out of breath, and found that his father and mother had
just begun tea.
"Charlie, my boy, you're late," said his father, in his usual kind tone.
His mother did not speak, and Charlie noticed that she looked sad; but
she was as kind as ever, and picked out one of his favourite little
well-browned cakes for him as he sat down to tea. Charlie felt unhappy
and repentant as he thought how ill he deserved all their care.
His father's cough was very troublesome; it was a loud, hollow,
consumptive cough, most painful to hear, and still more painful to
suffer; but not a word of complaint escaped John Heedman's lips.
Charlie's unhappiness and repentance increased as he sat listening to
it, and heard his father say, in answer to a remark made by Mrs.
Heedman, "Yes, I think the cold air has seized my chest; that makes the
cough worse just now."
Tea was out of the question with Charlie, and the little crisp cake lay
untouched. "If they would only scold me, or punish me, or do something
to me," he thought, "I should feel better."
"How is it you are not getting on with your tea?" said Mrs. Heedman,
looking at his plate.
Charlie immediately laid his head on the table, regardless of tea-things
and everything else, and burst into a flood of tears. "Oh, mother," he
sobbed out, "I have been such a bad, wicked fellow to-day. Why don't you
and father scold me or do something to me? you are far too kind; it
makes me hate myself. I wish somebody would take away my new cricket
bat, or steal Jumper, I do." There was a great sobbing after this,
partly, we think, at the mere thought of the terrible nature of the
punishment his imagination had suggested.
He went on--"I'm sure I meant to come straight home, but Tom Brown took
and persuaded me to go and see his ship launched, and I only meant to
stay five minutes, and I thought there was time enough, and it seemed as
if the clock struck five directly. I'm so sorry--oh dear!" and down went
his head on the table again.
"I'm very sorry too," said John Heedman, seriously--"very sorry. I am
afraid when you were making your good resolutions about coming straight
home, you forgot that you might be tempted to break them, and did not
ask for His help who alone can give you strength to resist temptation
and choose duty before pleasure. Don't you remember the words, 'My son,
if sinners entice thee, consent thou not,'and the exhortation to pray
lest ye enter into temptation? Wipe away your tears now, and get some
tea; we will talk about it afterwards."