BLACKBERRYING.
"I WONDER why it's been such a good year for fruit?" said a little boy,
looking up in the face of an elder one who was resting against a stile,
still keeping a crutch in his hand and leaning on it, while a basket of
blackberries lay at his feet.
"I suppose there has been just enough rain and just enough sun to suit
them, Tommy!"
The tone made Tommy look up, and then his eyes wandered to the crutch,
and back again to the patient face wistfully.
"If the blackberry hedges had nothing but sun, they would be scorched
up, Tommy, boy! And if my life had been all pleasure, perhaps there
would have been no fruit on my bush!"
"Fruit?"
"Yes, don't you remember how the lesson in Sunday School, yesterday,
was 'He that abideth in Me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much
fruit?'"
"Oh, I see!" said Tommy.
"And if," pursued the elder boy, "there had been nothing but rain and
storm and sorrow and pain, my little bush would have got mildewed and
spoilt, and so no fruit would have come either."
"I like sunshine best!" said Tommy. "But—what sort of things do you
mean would have scorched up your bush?"
He hesitated, for though several years younger than his companion, he
had a thoughtful little heart, and he began to guess.
"Being captain of our football team, perhaps; and first in all the
running games; and top of my Form—"
"But those weren't harm?" said Tommy. "No—o—oh no! But it was so
pleasant; and I never thought it could be different, and I did not need
God then, and so I brought no fruit to Him. That's what I call sunshine
that scorches—"
The child put his hand on the brown big one, caressingly.
"So then in love—yes, Tommy—in love, my Father sent the rain and the
storm. He saw there would be no fruit on my little bush, and He knew
I should be sorry; and so He—" Frank paused and looked down at the
crutch, which said all there was to say. It needed no explanation.
Tommy knew all about the long, painful illness which had resulted in
the loss of Frank's right leg.
Everybody knew how patiently their school-fellow bore his deprivation.
"Your bush has lots of 'fruit' on it now, I think!" said Tommy,
affectionately.
"Tommy!" said Frank, getting himself upright again to start for home.
"There are sunshine and storms in your life as well as mine! We don't
all of us have the same lot. You've got no mother, and—heaps of things
that are hard—but every time you are brave and patient 'for Jesus'
sake,' you are 'bearing fruit.' Think of that, Tommy! Doesn't it kind
of feel nice?"