GOING OUT TO TEA.
One evening, about a month after the events of the last chapter, Charlie
was sitting near the window reading, when, to his astonishment, he saw a
lady open the garden gate and walk to the door. It was Mrs. Greenwell,
who lived in the large house with the beautiful garden, that was
Charlie's great admiration. He knew Mrs. Greenwell quite well, because
she had often stopped to speak to him, and ask him about his school, and
the garden, and other things; indeed, she was Charlie's favourite
lady--he was sure there was not another in the place like her.
You must not think he was vain, if we tell you that he gave a hasty
glance in the glass to see if his hair was tidy, and his face and
collar clean. He need scarcely have done so, for it was seldom that
either was untidy or dirty; he had so often heard his mother say it was
no disgrace to be seen in old clothes, so long as they were well brushed
and mended, but it was a very great disgrace to be seen with dirty hands
and face, and unbrushed hair.
Charlie ran to the door, wondering very much what Mrs. Greenwell could
have called about. She spoke a few kind, pleasant words to him, and
asked to see his mother. Charlie ushered her into the best room, placed
a chair for her with great state, closed the door quietly, and then
hastened upstairs to find his mother, taking two stairs at a time,
missing one, and coming down on his hands and knees in a lump.
"Dear me, Charlie," said Mrs. Heedman, who had come in at the back door,
and was standing at the foot of the stairs looking on in amazement at
his extraordinary scrambling; "what ever are you doing? is it a mouse?"
remembering he had once chased a mouse upstairs with much the same sort
of noise.
"A mouse! no, mother," said Charlie, coming down very mildly. "I wanted
to tell you that Mrs. Greenwell is here, and waiting for you."
Mrs. Greenwell's errand was to ask if Charlie could be spared to attend
a Bible class at her house twice a week. As well as instruction in the
Bible and catechism, she intended to read instructive books to them on
different subjects: natural history, travels in foreign lands, English
history, the lives of good and noble men who had risen from the working
classes, and on many other subjects that would be interesting and give
them a taste for reading. Charlie was younger than most of the boys she
expected, but she knew he was more intelligent and thoughtful than the
generality of boys of his age, principally because he had such good home
training.
Mrs. Heedman very gladly agreed for him to attend regularly. As for
Charlie himself, his delight knew no bounds, especially when he heard
that they were all to have tea, and spend the evening at Mrs.
Greenwell's the next day. The moment she had left and the door was
closed, Charlie broke into a dance of triumph round the room that would
have done credit to a wild Indian, and kept it up so long that Jumper
became seriously concerned: he stood at a safe distance, barking, as if
asking for an explanation, or expostulating with his master; but Charlie
only snapped his fingers at him, and went on with his dance. Poor Jumper
thought it was an order to sit up, and sat up accordingly, but soon
finding his mistake out he dropped his fore-feet disconsolately. At
last, as if a bright thought had struck him, he made a sudden rush at
poor puss, who was sitting very upright with her tail over her toes,
gazing innocently at the fire, and I am sorry to say he caught her
rather savagely by the ear. Jumper knew puss to be his own particular
enemy, and whenever anything went wrong he always seemed to conclude
that she must be at the bottom of it.
This brought the dance of triumph to an end, much to Mrs. Heedman's
satisfaction.
You should have seen Charlie the next day, when he started for Mrs.
Greenwell's, in his best suit, a shining white collar, and new necktie;
his brown hair arranged in his best style, and his bright face lit up
with happy expectation. It was the first time he had ever formally gone
"out to tea."
It would take two or three chapters to tell you all that Charlie saw and
thought and heard on that eventful evening, but we must be content with
a hasty sketch.
When Charlie first went into the room with its beautiful pictures, its
handsome furniture, its bright lights, and many strange faces, he felt
quite dazzled; but Mrs. Greenwell came up to him, and taking him by the
hand, led him up to a boy about two years older than himself, who was
lying on a couch. "This is my son," she said, kindly; "he is quite
anxious to know you, Charlie, so you had better sit down beside him."
Harry Greenwell shook hands heartily, and made room for him, but did not
rise from the couch.
"He must be very proud or very idle," thought Charlie; and yet, as he
looked admiringly at him, he felt that he did not look as if he were
either one or the other. Charlie had seen him out driving sometimes with
his mother, but had never been close to him before. Harry lay there
quite unconscious of Charlie's opinion and admiration, his delicate,
expressive features full of animation, and his eyes sparkling with
pleasure as he watched the boys talking and looking about them. He had
begged very hard that they might come into the drawing-room. Harry liked
to have pictures and ornaments and beautiful things round him, and he
thought they would enjoy it too.
"How happy he must be," thought Charlie, "in this beautiful house, with
servants to do everything for him, a carriage to ride in, and I dare say
he chooses his own clothes, and can have whatever he likes for dinner!
It must be very nice to be him," thought Charlie, rather enviously.
Just then a move was made for the room where tea was prepared. "You go
on, Charlie," said Harry, in a kind tone; "don't wait for me; I'll
follow." Charlie happened to glance back.
Harry Greenwell was lame.
He told Charlie later in the evening how it happened. The two boys were
standing together at a small table apart from the rest; Harry, who had
taken a great fancy to Charlie, was showing some of his drawings. There
was genuine admiration in Charlie's face and tone as he exclaimed, "How
splendid they are, Master Harry! They must have taken you a long time to
do."
"Well, yes," answered Harry; "you see I have had a good deal of quiet
time to occupy ever since my hip was hurt; I haven't been able to play
at any outdoor games like other boys, or even to walk much. You can't
think how thankful I am that I have a taste for drawing; one cannot
always be reading, and it makes the time pass so pleasantly."
"Was it long since? How did it happen?" asked Charlie, full of sympathy,
and wondering almost that Harry could be thankful for anything under
such circumstances.
"It was about three years ago, when I was eleven years old. I was out
riding; something startled the pony, and he threw me. You see my leg is
not deformed," holding it out as he spoke, "but I walk lame; the doctor
says I must rest well now, and not overtax my strength, or I shall never
be any better. It pains me a good deal even now sometimes."
"Did you always feel as--as quiet about it as you do now?" asked
Charlie, rather at a loss for the right word.
"No," said Harry; "for a whole year all sorts of wicked, bitter thoughts
were in my heart. I thought God was behaving hardly and unkindly to me.
I wanted to die, rather than live to be a cripple. I almost hated people
who were well and strong. When mamma had visitors I kept out of the way.
Sometimes I stayed in my own room for weeks together. I couldn't bear
any one to see me. It was a great trouble to mamma." Harry was carried
away by the recollections of that sad time, and had spoken in a low
rapid tone, more to himself than to Charlie.
The boys turned over the contents of a portfolio in silence for a few
moments.
Harry placed before Charlie a beautiful engraving of our Saviour on the
cross. "He bore all that for me, and I am trying to bear my pain
willingly and patiently for His sake, because I love Him; and I know He
loves me, and helps me to bear my pain, and would not let me suffer it
at all if it was not for my own good in the end," said Harry.
I have let you listen to this little bit of quiet talk between Charlie
and Harry that you may determine, as Charlie did, to try to follow
Harry's example, not to be discontented and impatient in sickness, or
trial of any kind; to be often thinking of, and feeling thankful for,
the blessings God has granted you; to love the Lord Jesus, and trust
Him.
You must not suppose that the evening at Mrs. Greenwell's was passed in
talking only. After tea, which was thoroughly enjoyed by the boys, they
looked at pictures, books, shells, and other things. Mrs. Greenwell had
so many little histories to tell about them, and talked so pleasantly,
that the boys enjoyed it very much; but the great wonder and attraction
was a microscope, or "magnifying glass," as Charlie called it.
Many of the boys had never seen or even heard of one before, and it
puzzled them very much to be told that what looked to them very like a
small lobster's claw was the foot of a fly.
"What beautiful little feathers!" exclaimed one boy.
"You know the sort of dust that sticks to your fingers if you touch the
wings of a moth or a butterfly, don't you?" asked Harry.
"Yes, sir,"' answered the boy.
"Then that is some of it, magnified; the wings are covered with those
beautiful little feathers, although we cannot distinguish them without
the microscope."
But I cannot attempt to tell you one half of the wonders that the
microscope revealed to them that night, or the lessons it taught them of
the power and wisdom of the Creator. Mrs. Greenwell pointed out to them
the immense inferiority of man's best and most careful work when
compared with the simplest work of God, A piece of delicately woven
silk, of the finest texture, that looked perfect to the eye, when placed
under the microscope appeared rough, coarse, and uneven--rather like a
common door-mat, in fact; but the wing of a fly, the hair of a mouse,
the eye of an insect, the scale of a fish, the dust of a moth's wing,
the leaf of a plant--anything made by God, and owing nothing to the hand
of man--the more it was magnified, the more beauties you discovered.
Examine by the microscope the humblest and most minute of God's
creations, and you will always find beauty, order, and perfection.