A SAD BIRTHDAY.
It is Charlie's birthday: two years have passed away since the great
going out to tea at Mrs. Greenwell's, and he is now fourteen years old.
It is a very quiet and a very sad birthday for Charlie. His father is
ill--his good, kind father. This illness had been coming on for the last
six months. Many of his neighbours and fellow-workmen had noticed for
some time that "John Heedman had a bad look," and would shake their
heads and look significantly at each other as he passed by, with his
slow gait, his stooping shoulders, and loud, hollow cough, now almost
constant, and more painful than ever. Often when Charlie awoke in the
night he would hear his father pacing the room, unable to rest, or even
lie down. The first time he heard him, he thought "Father must be ill;
he has gone downstairs," and springing out of bed, he crept lightly down
to see what was the matter.
The shutters were thrown open, and the blind pulled up to the top.
Charlie saw it was a calm, still night, and that every part of the sky
visible from the window was spangled with a countless multitude of
brilliant stars. His father stood at the window--he was leaning slightly
forward--with clasped hands, and gazing up with eager, questioning eyes.
Charlie felt that he was praying, and crept softly back. He sat down at
the foot of the stairs to wait, feeling cold and shivering, and with a
strange fear at his heart. He had not sat many minutes when he heard his
father moving; then he called softly at the door, "Are you ill, father?
can I do anything for you?"
"Why, Charlie, how is this?" said his father, taking him by the hand and
bringing him into the room.
"I heard you down here, and I was afraid you were ill. Are you ill?"
asked Charlie, anxiously.
"Not altogether ill, perhaps, Charlie, and yet not well. My cough is
very bad to-night, I can get no rest; when I lie down I feel as if I
should be suffocated. But how cold you are, my boy! run away to bed," he
said, trying to speak more cheerfully, "or we shall be having you laid
up next."
The cheerful tone did not deceive Charlie; he clung to him. "Father, you
are worse than you say--tell me all; do not treat me like a little
child; I am nearly fourteen years old."
His father stood for a moment undecided, then he sat down and drew
Charlie to him and told him all; how he had felt lately that his cough
was getting worse and worse, and his whole frame weaker; that he was
afraid some disease of the lungs had taken a firm hold, and that he
intended to take a rest the next week and see a doctor if he did not
feel any better. "You must not think I am going to die at once," he
said, feeling Charlie tremble; "even if I have disease of the lungs I
may live a long while yet, if it is God's will. I want you to be a brave
boy, and not let your mother see you going about grieving and looking
sad, and adding to her sorrow, but do all you can to help and comfort
her. If you love me, you will try to do this." Charlie promised to try,
and after a few more words of comfort and encouragement John Heedman
persuaded him to go to bed. "My dear boy," he said, "you know that your
love is a great happiness to me, but you must not come down again if you
hear me up in the night; it will make me unhappy if I think I keep you
awake."
After this, although Charlie often heard his father of a night, he never
came down again; but he crept softly out of bed and knelt down and
prayed for him. He asked God to grant--if it were His will--that his
father might get better; if not, that He would help him to bear his
pain, for Jesus Christ's sake. It was not at all a grand, well-worded
prayer, but it was simple, earnest, and heartfelt--just the sort of
prayer God loves to listen to.
On the morning of Charlie's birthday, about a fortnight after that night
he went down to his father, John Heedman was quite unable to go out to
his work; he had been obliged to give up at last, and the doctor was
called in. When Charlie was sent out of the room until the doctor's
visit was over, he rushed out of the house, unable to bear the suspense,
and wandering down to the beach, he lay down to think with his face
hidden in his cap, as if to shut out the too joyous sunlight.
As he listened to the low, mournful surging of the waves, all his past
life seemed to rise up before him; he remembered with bitter
self-reproach how ill he had repaid the love and kindness of those dear
ones at home; how often he had caused his mother hours of anxiety by his
carelessness and procrastination; for Charlie had not altogether
succeeded in conquering his great fault; how selfish he had been in
every way. He remembered with shame how he had begged and worried for
things without caring or thinking whether they could afford it; he had
denied himself nothing, and now all this expense of his father's illness
was coming upon them. If they had not taken him to keep when he was
friendless, they would have had plenty of money saved, and would have
wanted for nothing.
As Charlie thought of all this, he determined that he would be a burden
to them no longer, he would try to earn some money; there were boys far
younger than himself, he knew, at work, and if he only earned a small
sum at first, it would help. Full of this determination he made his way
home. The doctor was just leaving as he went in, and Charlie heard from
his mother that he held out no hope of his father's recovery; the
disease had gone too far. He was on no account to go down the mine
again, even if he fancied he felt strong enough; the impure air had
already aggravated the disease. The doctor had said that if he took
great care of himself he might, perhaps, be spared to them for some
time.
Charlie's heart was too full then to speak to his father; he went into
his own room, shut the door, and stood for a moment as if uncertain what
to do. "If only Mrs. Greenwell had been at home," he thought, "I could
have told her all about it, and she would have advised me."
"Tell it to God, He is always to be found, and can help as well as
advise," something within him seemed to whisper. He listened to the
voice, and kneeling down, poured out all his trouble, and sorrow, and
anxiety, asking God to help him for Jesus Christ's sake. He then got up,
bathed his face in cold water, for his eyes were swollen with tears, and
started off to the chemist's with the doctor's prescription that his
mother gave him.
"Wait for the medicine," she said, "and bring it home with you."
He was waiting in the shop until it was ready, and turning over all
sorts of plans for the future in his mind, when one of Mrs. Greenwell's
servants came in. "Is that you, Charlie Scott?" she exclaimed. "Master
Harry was just inquiring after you, if you had been at the house
lately."
"How long have they been at home?" he asked in surprise.
"About two hours; they came this morning."
Charlie picked up the medicine that the chemist had placed before him,
and set off home as hard as he could run.
"I'm just going to Mrs. Greenwell's, mother dear," he said, giving it in
at the door; "I'll soon be back."
Harry Greenwell saw in a moment by Charlie's face that he was in
trouble, and asked anxiously what was the matter. He liked Charlie, and
from the first they had been as close friends as the difference in their
station and education would allow. Charlie always went to Mrs. Greenwell
and "Master Harry" when he was in trouble; indeed, Mrs. Greenwell had
succeeded in making all the boys who went to her Bible class feel that
she was their _friend_, and interested in all concerning them; and many
of them were thankful for her advice and kind, encouraging words, when
they were in trouble or anxiety.
Charlie told them of his father's illness, of his own selfishness, his
repentance, his self-reproach, and his anxiety to do something to help
at home.
"My dear boy," said Mrs. Greenwell, "I am so glad you have come to me;
but I trust you have already laid all this before your great Friend and
Father in heaven."
"Oh yes, ma'am," answered Charlie; "but I feel so ashamed of having so
often to ask God to forgive me; I feel almost afraid that He will be
tired of me, and refuse to listen."
"We might be afraid of that," said Mrs. Greenwell, "if we asked
forgiveness in our own unworthy names--if the Saviour had never died for
us. But as you know, He came into the world to save sinners. He gave
Himself for our sins. 'He was wounded for our transgressions: He was
bruised for our iniquities, and with His stripes we are healed.' 'The
blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from all sin.' He has said,
'Whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in My name, He will give it you;'
and if we doubt His word we are lost. If we repent, and are sincerely
sorry for our sin, and ask God to forgive us, for Jesus Christ's sake,
He will do so, no matter how often we go to Him. It is Satan who tries
to put hard thoughts of God into our hearts. And now, in your trouble,
Charlie, you do not know how the Saviour loves you and sympathizes with
you. He knows what it is to suffer. He is waiting at the door of your
heart, longing to come in and help and comfort you. He says, 'Behold, I
stand at the door and knock;' do not refuse Him entrance, Charlie."
Tears stood in Charlie's eyes when Mrs. Greenwell finished speaking,
tears of thankfulness for such a Saviour, and of gratitude to Mrs.
Greenwell.
When they began to talk of what Charlie could do to help at home, and
earn some money, Harry asked him what he would like to do best.
"I should best like to be amongst engines, and machines, and those
things," said Charlie. "Father meant me to be an engineer--a working
engineer, if all had gone on well; he meant to apprentice me. But, of
course, that is all over now," he said, with a sigh; "it would be so
long before I could earn anything like good wages."
"Yes, indeed," said Mrs. Greenwell, turning over all sorts of plans in
her mind. "You see," she went on, "errand boys get so little, and
tradesmen will not give wages to inexperienced boys for shop work, when
they can get apprentices. Haven't you thought of anything yourself?" she
asked, after a pause.
"There's the pit," answered Charlie, with a sigh; "I could get six
shillings a week, as trapper, directly. Joe Denton gets more than double
that now."
"Oh, Charlie!" exclaimed Harry, "surely you will not have to go down
those terrible mines?"
Mrs. Greenwell reminded Harry that was not the way to help Charlie. "I
know he will feel it hard at first if he goes; but still I am sure he is
a brave boy and will not shrink from it, if he feels it to be his duty.
You would not have him idling about at home, thinking only of his own
comfort, and picking and choosing his work, when his father, who has
done so much for him, is suffering from a lingering illness, and wanting
so many little comforts that cannot be bought without money?"
After a good deal of thought, Mrs. Greenwell said, "I believe, Charlie,
it is the only thing for you. It will be a great trial to you, I know,
to give up all your dreams about engines and machines, and being a
clever man, and getting rich, and having instead to go down into a dark,
dreary coal-pit day after day, to a life of hard toil; but it appears,
as far as we can see, to be God's will and your duty. You remember those
words of our Saviour,--'If any will come after Me, let him deny himself,
and take up his cross and follow Me.' We have all a cross of some kind
to bear, and this is your cross, Charlie; take it up patiently, bravely,
and willingly. He will not give you more than you can bear. Trust Him.
There is no doubt some great blessing is in store for you, if you do not
shrink from this trial of your faith."
Charlie had two or three very busy days before Saturday night came. As
soon as he had decided to go down the mine, he went to a fellow-workman
of his father's, Hudson Brownlee, and asked him if he would let him go
down with him the first time. Brownlee was a kind-hearted man, and took
an interest in Charlie. He promised to see about his work for him, and
call on Monday morning at ten o'clock. Charlie kept it quite a secret
from his father and mother until Saturday night, then, putting on some
of his oldest clothes that he had routed out ready for Monday, and
taking his father's lamp in his hand, that he used in the mine, he
walked into the room where they were, made a bow, twisted himself round
in front of them, and with a cheery face and merry tone said, "Do I look
like work, father? shall I do?" At first they looked at him in
amazement, but gradually his meaning came upon them.
"My dear boy," said Mrs. Heedman, laying down her knitting, "what do you
mean?"
"I mean this," said he, putting down his lamp, and taking each of their
hands in his, "I am not going to be an idle, selfish fellow any longer.
It's all settled and done. I am going down the pit on Monday, with
Hudson Brownlee, and I shall have six shillings to bring home on
Saturday night; think of that, mother, and I shall soon get twice as
much. Father shall want for nothing."
Tears of love and pleasure stood in John Heedman's eyes, for he knew
what it must have cost Charlie to make up his mind to it. "You know how
happy it makes your mother and myself to hear you speak so bravely and
gratefully," he said; "but are you quite sure, Charlie, that you have
counted the cost? Take another week to think of it; thank God, we are
not likely to want for some time, there is a little store put by.
Remember it is a hard and dreary life to a young ambitious spirit; think
it over again."
"I have thought of it, father, ever since the doctor came to see you on
Tuesday; it is quite settled. Mrs. Greenwell and Master Harry both seem
to think it is my duty. They say I can serve God the same, and I shall
be just as dear to Him as if I was ever such a rich engineer; and no
honest work is a disgrace."
"That is true," his father began; he was going to say something else,
but Charlie seemed anxious to finish his say.
"Master Harry says, father, I must think of what I have been taught, and
try to do my duty in that state of life to which it has pleased God to
call me. He says if I am obliged to work with my hands, I can work with
my head too. Master Harry has offered to give me lessons in the morning
before I go to work, and he will lend me books to read, and I shall have
that to think about whilst I am down the pit. It won't seem half so
dreary when I have busy, pleasant thoughts. And, father, Mrs. Greenwell
says I have had such good training at home, and been able to get to
Sunday school and Bible class so regularly, that I ought to be quite a
missionary amongst the boys I shall meet, who have not had such
opportunities."
Application was made for him to be engaged at the pit, and it was agreed
that Charlie should begin his new duties on Monday.