MILICENT'S MUSIC.
"WHY, Milicent!" exclaimed her aunt. "Crying over your music, darling?"
Milicent was too miserable to mind being caught crying, though
generally she was so brave that she would have resented the sympathy.
"I'm cold, and I can't get on; and Miss Seymour told me I was to do
nothing till I had played this exercise twenty times."
Her aunt went up to her and touched the little icy fingers, which with
contact with the cold ivory keys, were numbed and almost useless.
"Miss Seymour will let you warm them, I am sure, if I explained," said
her auntie. "Come here on my knee, and while you get warm we will have
a little talk. Then I will help you with your exercise afterwards, and
you shall see how quickly we will learn it."
Milicent came almost reluctantly. Her hands ached intolerably, and
she felt wretched altogether. But the warm rays of the fire began to
play upon her chilled little frame, and as she nestled her head in her
aunt's neck, she felt comfort beginning to steal over her.
"Cold is very bad to bear," said her aunt, softly. "I heard from a
soldier who came from South Africa that some of the poor fellows on
duty at night would positively cry with the bitter cold."
Milicent looked up suddenly.
"These are words said to you and to me, Milly, 'Endure hardness, as
good soldiers of Jesus Christ.'"
"I didn't mean to cry," said Milly, "only I couldn't get on."
"No, dear; and do you know when I saw your pitiful little face, I
remembered what I heard at a missionary meeting a week or two ago? The
young clergyman had been working for seven years all among the snows of
North-West Canada—"
"'Working?'" asked Milicent.
"Trying to tell the Red Indians and Eskimos, and the trappers and
hunters about Jesus, our Saviour, of whom they have never heard."
"Oh, I see," said Milicent. "Now I know what you mean."
"The missionaries there only get letters three times in the year; they
have to live almost entirely on dried meat and a little tea, and often
go very short of that! They never see the sun for nine months in the
year, and the snow is five feet thick on the ground!"
"When they travel from place to place to tell the good news of the love
of Jesus, they often cannot get to a hut by night time, and have to
camp in the snow. They scrape a big hole with their long snow-shoes,
and then they put on every wrap they possess, and each gets into a long
fur bag which covers them over head and all, and then they lie down in
the snow hole, and men and dogs go to sleep as close together as they
can for warmth."
Milicent raised her head, and put out her hands to the blaze
thoughtfully.
"They must love Jesus very much to bear all that for Him," she said at
length.
"Yes; and love the poor ignorant people, too, Milly!"
"Do the Eskimos learn to love Christ, Auntie?"
"Indeed they do. The children are taught to read, and to sing hymns,
and to repeat Scripture; and by and by little Mission stations spring
up and a church is built; and those who used to be cannibals and at
constant warfare with each other, learn to be kind and gentle and
forgiving even as Christ is!"
Milicent's large eyes looked wistful. "I wish I could do something for
them," she said, longingly.
"Milly, I felt that too, when I heard! But do you know what I thought?
Every day I can pray that God would support and bless those brave
missionaries in their hardships; and you can ask Him, too, that He may
comfort them and give them food to eat and cheer their hearts with His
presence."
"So I will," said Milly in a low voice.
"And you can learn to knit warm gloves and caps for them, perhaps? Or
work to sell things and send them money."
Milly nodded her head earnestly. Her heart was full of thoughts.
Then her aunt rose and turned to the piano.
"Now, childie, we must do the next duty that comes to our hand. Let us
have a look at this tiresome music!"
Milly went at it with a good will, now, and soon conquered the
difficulty; and then, set free, she went up into her bedroom and knelt
down at her bedside for one moment.
"Lord Jesus," she said, "I want to love Thee and serve Thee all my
life—teach me how!"