Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.
[Illustration: Mytton, never so much as raising his eyes from his
occupation, went on as if life depended on success, setting one
little scrap by another.]
THE
BATTLE OF LIFE
OR
What is a Christian.
BY
A. L. O. E.
AUTHORESS OF "THE WHITE BEAR'S DEN," "SHEER OFF,"
"THE HARTLEY BROTHERS," ETC.
London:
GALL AND INGLIS, 25 PATERNOSTER SQUARE;
AND EDINBURGH.
CONTENTS.
A PILGRIM; OR, A CHRISTIAN IN DAILY WALK.
CHAPTER I. A Blessing.
CHAPTER II. No Blessing.
CHAPTER III. In the Dark.
CHAPTER IV. The Watcher.
CHAPTER V. Sickness and Sorrow.
CHAPTER VI. The Mother's Errand.
CHAPTER VII. Thinking over it.
AN HEIR OF HEAVEN; OR, A CHRISTIAN IN PRIVILEGE.
CHAPTER I. The Lonely Cot.
CHAPTER II. Treasure Found.
CHAPTER III. A Search.
CHAPTER IV. Earthly Hope.
CHAPTER V. Heavenly Hope.
A SAINT; OR, A CHRISTIAN IN CHARACTER.
CHAPTER I. The Patient Restored.
CHAPTER II. Decision.
CHAPTER III. Division.
CHAPTER IV. Sabbath Hours.
CHAPTER V. Darkness and Night.
CHAPTER VI. A Way Opened.
A CONQUEROR; OR, A CHRISTIAN IN LIFE'S STRUGGLE.
CHAPTER I. A Storm Down Below.
CHAPTER II. The Twins.
CHAPTER III. In Peril.
CHAPTER IV. The Struggle.
CHAPTER V. A Brother to the Rescue.
CHAPTER VI. Victory.
A LIGHT; OR, A CHRISTIAN IN INFLUENCE.
CHAPTER I. The Young Stepmother.
CHAPTER II. Off to the Station.
CHAPTER III. A Dinner-Party.
CHAPTER IV. Battle in the Nursery.
CHAPTER V. Silver Turned into Gold.
A THANKFUL GUEST; OR, A CHRISTIAN IN COMMUNION.
CHAPTER I. Back Again.
CHAPTER II. Neglected Duty.
CHAPTER III. A Service of Obedience.
CHAPTER IV. A Service of Hope.
CHAPTER V. A Service of Love.
CHAPTER VI. One Family.
THE
BATTLE OF LIFE.
A PILGRIM
OR,
A CHRISTIAN IN DAILY WALK.
CHAPTER I.
A Blessing.
"THERE'S no use in talking more over the matter, mother; when I says a
thing—I does it!" cried John Carey, striking his fist upon the table,
to give emphasis to his words. "I've told Dick Brace that as soon as I
gets the thirty pounds of my uncle's legacy, I'll club it with his, and
we'll start in business together, and make a good thing, I don't doubt,
out of the 'Jolly Ploughboys,' now the brickmaking is begun so near to
the place."
"I don't like your keeping a public, John; and I don't like your
joining in anything with Dick Brace," observed Widow Carey, with an
anxious shake of the head.
"He's a jolly good fellow," said John.
"He's not a God-fearing man," rejoined the widow. "I doubt there will
be a blessing upon anything in which you are mixed up with him."
"I shouldn't care to have him for a brother, but he's just the fellow
for a partner in business," cried John; "sharp as a fox, and merry as
a cricket. You'll see we'll get on like a house on fire, mother, and
I'll be able to pay your coal club for you every week, and maybe your
rent too, if you don't care to have the little back-room at the 'Jolly
Ploughboys.'" And John bent his tall form, and looked with a merry,
kindly smile into his parent's face as he added, "There's a bribe for
ye, mother!"
Mrs. Carey returned the smile; indeed it would have been hard not to
have done so, so pleasant, at least to a parent's eyes, looked that
fine strong young peasant, in the prime of life, with the fresh hue of
health on his cheek.
There was something in the appearance of John, with his tawny hair and
whiskers, broad and somewhat flat face, and bold decided manner, that
made his companions sometimes call him in sport "the young lion:" but
he was a very good-humoured lion, for though self-willed and sometimes
hasty, there was nothing savage in the nature of the widow's only son.
Mrs. Carey smiled indeed, but she was thoroughly in earnest as she
replied, "Were the sacks full of gold sovereigns instead of coals,
they wouldn't be bribe enough for me; and as for taking your back
parlour—let alone that I'd not choose to end my life in a public—maybe
you'll want a younger companion one of these days to keep house for ye,
my boy."
John threw back his head and laughed. "I've been a-thinking of that,"
said he. "If matters go right, and the money come in, there's Dinah
Dealtry at the farm—she'd make a trim little wife."
Again the widow shook her head. "I hope you'll never put the ring on
her finger, John. She's not a girl to make a good man happy, nor to
bring up a family in the right way. There wouldn't be a blessing, I
fear, on such a marriage as that."
"Mother, you're always thinking about a blessing," cried John, with a
little impatience.
"Because I've always found God's blessing to be the one thing needful,
my son, and I never feel myself safe in doing anything upon which I
cannot ask it. We may plough and sow a field, but not a blade will
grow, unless God's blessing come in the rain and the sunshine. And so
it is with everything in life: we spend our money for that which is
not bread, and our labour for that which satisfieth not, unless God's
blessing crown all."
"I don't see that," said John, bluntly.
"Look at your Bible, my boy; Jacob left home with nothing but his staff
and the blessing, and came back with his children, his flocks, and his
herds. 'Twas the blessing on Joseph that brought him from prison to
palace, and made all things to prosper in his hand. David was hunted
like the partridge on the mountains, but the blessing brought him at
last to the throne."
"Those lived in old times," cried John Carey; "but we don't look now
for palaces or thrones, or, if we did, we shouldn't get 'em! What does
the blessing do for us now?"
"John, John, I'm an old pilgrim, and maybe I'm getting nigh the end of
my journey, so I may speak the more boldly about it. I've found the
blessing like a staff to lean on all the way through; and if I hadn't
grasped it, there's many and many a time I'd just have lain down, and
given myself up to despair."
"I think you've had more troubles than most folk, mother," observed
John, more gravely; "and if there was a blessing on dear good father,
how was it that he suffered for years?"
"There was a blessing on him, yes, in his illness, and through his
illness," said Mrs. Carey, fervently, while the tears started to her
eyes; "no one could have been with him day and night as I was, and not
have seen that there was one! Your father had peace, and hope, and joy,
and patience—oh! Wonderful patience! And hard as we were put to it
sometimes, God always raised up some friend to help us, and opened a
way before us when it seemed as if we could not got on. God's blessing
was sought by my dear husband from his youth, and I'm sure it went with
him wherever he went, prospered him in his honest labour, brought him
through troubles, temptations, and trials, cheered him in sickness,
made his deathbed at last like the very gateway of heaven! And now he's
gone where all is blessing—for ever!" Mrs. Carey closed her sentence
with a little stifled sob, as she looked at an empty chair which was
now never moved from its place in the corner.
"I didn't mean to make ye sad, mother," said John, laying his broad
hand with rough kindliness upon the shoulder of the widow; "and I don't
want to worry ye about either the public-house or the girl, but I can't
look at matters just as ye do, and, ye see, about that there business
with Dick Brace—I've made up my mind. Don't ye be a-vexing yourself
about me—all will go right, never fear!"
Then, turning and taking down his cap from its peg, John said, in a
merrier tone, "I'm going to old Justice Burns, to get him to pay me
uncle's legacy as he promised he would, and then I'm off to London to
buy a few things as I want, but I hope to be back soon after dark."
Mrs. Carey saw that expostulation was useless, so she made no further
opposition.
"You've a long trudge before you," said she, "take your father's good
staff;" and she rose to bring it from its place in the corner just
behind the arm-chair.
"Leave it there, mother, I don't want it," cried "the lion." "'Tain't
twenty miles to London and back; and were it forty, 'twould not be much
to young limbs like mine. Only mind you've a good supper ready for me,
for I'll come back hungry as—as a lion!" And nodding a good-bye to
the widow, the young man quitted the cottage, whistling merrily as he
walked down the hill.
Mrs. Carey watched him fondly as long as his tall form continued in
view, and listened to the sound of that whistle which was so pleasant
to her ears.
"God bless the lad!" said the mother. "Bless him in his work and his
ways, bless his going out and his coming in, bless him now and for
ever! He mayn't know the worth of the blessing now, but since my eyes
first looked on my babe, there's not been a day, scarce a waking hour,
but I've asked it for him from my heart. God will hear a poor mother's
prayers, though I'm afraid just now that this legacy hardly comes as
a blessing. My dear husband's brother never gave him so much as a
shilling to help him through all his long illness, and now leaves to
his son thirty pounds, money which seems likely to set the lad against
the steady work by which he has gained his bread, to bring him amongst
bad companions, and perhaps lead him to marry a girl whose mind is
set on flirting and finery, who is not worthy of the true love of a
noble-hearted fellow like John! It's a care and trouble to me the
thought of this money—but, like all other cares, I must just bring it
to my Lord; if pilgrims but set their faces towards Zion, God will
direct all their path!"