"Now, my dear young friends, I'll just tell you all about it; and I'm
sure you'll listen to me seriously, for it's a serious matter after all.
You know that poor Miss Clara Maltby is gone from home to-day very ill,
so ill that it mayn't be the Lord's will she should ever come back to us
again. Now she has asked me to give you all and each a message from
her--perhaps it may be a dying message. She sends it to every one as
belonged to her class when she taught it. I'm going to tell you what
she said, not quite in her own words, but just what I took to be her
meaning.
"You know as she's not taken her class for a good long time. We was all
very sorry when she gave over, but it seemed as it couldn't be helped,
for she was getting weak and worn, and felt that coming to church twice
on the Lord's-day was as much as her poor mind and body would bear. But
she wants me to tell you how she feels now she's been letting earthly
learning get too much hold of her thoughts. Not as there's any harm in
getting any sort of good learning, so long as you don't get it in the
wrong way. But it seems as this earthly learning had been getting too
big a share of Miss Clara's heart. I daresay you all know as she's
wonderful clever at her books. Eh, what a sight of prizes she's got!
Well, but she'd come to be too fond of her studies; they was becoming a
snare to her; she'd made a regular idol of them, and could scarce think
of anything else. She'd given them all the time she could spare, and
more. And so it kept creeping on. These studies of hers, they'd scarce
let her eat or drink, or take any exercise, or read her Bible and pray
as she used to do. Ah, how crafty the evil one is in leading us astray!
He don't make us jump down into the dark valley at one or two big
leaps, but it's just down an incline, like the path as leads from Bill
Western's house to the smithy: when you've got to the bottom and look
back, you can hardly believe at first as you've come down so low.
"Now, you're not to run away with the idea that Miss Clara has forsaken
her Saviour, and given up her Bible and prayer. Nothing of the sort!
She's a dear child of God, and always has been since I've knowed her;
only this learning and these studies have so blocked up her heart, that
they've scarce left room for her gracious Saviour. But yet he'd never
let her go, and she hadn't altogether forsaken him; only she's been on a
wrong course of late, and she sees it now.
"Friends have flattered her, and told her what grand things she might do
with such a head-piece as hers, and she's been willing to listen to them
for a bit. But now the Lord has brought her to see different, and she
wants me to tell you what a snare she has found this learning to be.
She wants me to tell you from her that she's found it out in her own
experience as there's no happiness out of Christ; as head knowledge can
never make us happy without heart knowledge of Jesus.
"It's all very well wishing to shine in the world and be thought clever,
but that's just pleasing self, and can never give us real peace. She's
tried it, and she says it's `vanity of vanities.' It's led her away
from her duty, and made her neglect helping her dear father and mother
in many ways where she might have been useful, just because her head and
her heart were full of her books.
"Now, perhaps some of you may be thinking, while I've been talking,
`Well, this don't concern _us_ much; we ain't in danger of going astray
after too much learning.' Don't you be too sure of that. There's traps
of the same kind being laid before you by the old enemy, though they
mayn't be got up so fine as them by which he catches clever young
ladies. Ah, perhaps he'll be whispering to some of you as it'll be a
grand thing to get up a peg or two higher by learning all sorts of
things with queer and long names to 'em. Won't you just make folks open
their eyes when you can rattle off a lot about this science and that
science? But what good will it do you? How much will you remember of
it ten years hence? What'll be the use of it, when you've got homes of
your own, if you've your heads cram full of hard names, but don't know
how to mend your clothes or make a pudding? Depend upon it, there's
need to listen to Miss Clara's message when she bids me tell you from
her as there's no real happiness to be got in making an idol of learning
or anything else, and that there's no happiness out of Christ; and that
the chief thing is just to do one's duty, by grace, in `the state of
life to which it has pleased God to call us;' and then, if he means us
to do something out of the way, he'll chalk out a line for us so broad
and plain that we shan't be able to mistake it.
"So now I've given you the message; but there's something else for you
besides.--Here, missus, just hand me that little brown paper parcel."--
So saying, he opened the packet which his wife gave him, and taking out
the photographs, handed one to each of the girls, saying, "It's a
keepsake to each of you from Miss Clara."
As the little gifts were received, tears and sobs burst from the whole
company; and when time had been given for the first vehemence of their
feelings to subside, Thomas continued,--
"I've just one or two more things to say; and the first is this: will
you all promise me to pray for our dear young lady, that she may be
restored to us in health and strength again, and take her place once
more as your teacher?"
"Ay, that we will with all our hearts," was the cry, which was uttered
with tearful earnestness by all.
"And will you pray, for yourselves, for grace to remember and profit by
the lesson which she has sent you?"
"We will, Thomas, we will," was again the cry.
"Well, thank God for that," said Bradly. "He's bringing good out of
evil already, as he always does,--bless his holy name for it! And now,
I've just to tell you, girls, why I've asked you to tea, and given you
the messages and the photographs in this fashion--I daresay some of you
can guess."
"I think we can, Thomas," said one of the elder ones.
"Well, it were just in this way," he continued: "I'm jealous about our
dear vicar's character, and about dear Miss Clara's, and I'm sure we all
ought to be. Now, if I'd given you her message in the Sunday-school,
even if I'd had your class by yourselves, ten to one some of the other
scholars would have got hold of things by the wrong end, and it would
have been made out as Miss Clara had been doing something very wicked,
and her mother had been taking her away in consequence. Now, you see
how it is: Miss Clara's done nothing to disgrace herself or her family;
she's been following a lawful thing, only she's been following it too
closely; but she's found it to be only like chasing a shadow after all.
And now that the Lord has humbled her, he'll raise her up again; she'll
come out of the furnace pure gold; she'll be such a teacher when she
comes back as she never was afore, if the Lord spares her. So now that
I've got you here in this quiet way, I want you all to promise me you'll
not go talking about what Miss Clara sent me to tell you, but you'll
keep it as snug as possible; it ain't meant for the public, it's meant
only for yourselves. The world wouldn't understand it; they'd think as
there was something behind. And the devil, he'd be only too glad to
make a bad use of it. So promise me to keep our dear young lady's
lesson to yourselves in your own hearts and memories. You can show the
photographs to the other scholars, and tell them as they was Miss
Clara's parting gifts to her class, and that's all as they need to
know."
The promise was cheerfully given by all; and then, before they left, all
knelt, and in their hearts joined in the fervent prayer which Thomas
Bradly offered for the vicar and his family, and specially for the
invalid, that she might be spared to return to them in renewed health,
and be kept meanwhile in perfect peace.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The evening after this little happy tea-party, Thomas Bradly called in
at William Foster's. He found the young man and his wife studying the
Bible together; but there was a look of trouble and anxiety on the
husband's face which made him fear that there was something amiss. He
was well aware that his former foe but now firm friend was but a weak
and ignorant disciple; and he expected, therefore, that he would find it
anything but smooth sailing at first in his Christian course. Still,
what a marvellous change, to see one so lately a sceptic and a scoffer
now humbly studying the Word of Life!
"Anything amiss?" asked Bradly. "Can I be of any service to you,
William?" he added, as he took his seat.
"Well, Thomas," replied the other, "I can only say this--I had no idea
how little I knew of the Bible till I began to study it in earnest. I
see it does indeed need to be approached in a teachable spirit. But I
have my difficulties and perplexities about it still. Only there's this
difference now,--I've seen in my own home, and I see daily more and more
in my own heart, abundance to convince me that the Bible is God's truth.
So now, when I meet with a difficulty, I see that the obscurity is not
in the Bible but in myself; in fact, I want more light."
"Yes; and you'll get it now, William; for the Bible itself says, `The
entrance of thy word giveth light; it giveth understanding unto the
simple.'"
"I heartily believe it, Thomas; still there is much that is very deep to
me--out of my depth, in fact. But there is one thing just now which is
a special trouble to me. They don't chaff me so often at the mill now,
but this evening Ben Thompson came up to me, and said, `Do you think
it's any good _your_ turning Christian?'--`Yes, Ben, I hope so,' I
said.--`Well,' he went on, `just you look in the Bible, and you'll find
that there's what they call the unpardonable sin--there's no forgiveness
for those who've been guilty of it; and if there's truth in that Bible,
there's no forgiveness for you, for you've been the biggest blasphemer
against the Bible in Crossbourne.' Thomas, I hadn't a word to answer
him with; his words cut me to the heart, and he saw it, and went off
with a grin full of malice. And now, since I came home, Kate and I have
been looking through the Gospels, and we've come to this passage, in our
Saviour's own words,--`Verily, I say unto you, All sins shall be
forgiven unto the sons of men, and blasphemies wherewith soever they
shall blaspheme: but he that shall blaspheme against the Holy Ghost hath
never forgiveness, but is in danger of eternal damnation: because they
said, He hath an unclean spirit.' Now, I'm afraid I've committed that
sin many times; and what then? Is it true that there is no forgiveness
for me?"
He gazed earnestly into Bradly's face, as one would look on a man on
whose decision hung life or death. But the other's reply brought relief
at once to both Foster and his wife.
"Ha! ha!" he exclaimed; "is that the old enemy's device? I'm not
surprised--he's a crafty old fox; but the Lord's wiser than him. I see
what he's been up to: he couldn't keep the sword of the Spirit out of
your hand any longer, so he's been trying to make you turn the point
away from him, and commit suicide with it. Set your mind at rest,
William, about these verses, and about the unpardonable sin; those who
are guilty of it never seek forgiveness, and so they never get it.
These words ain't meant for such a case as yours. This is the sort of
text for you: `God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten
Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have
everlasting life.' Jesus said it, and he'll never go back from it.
`Whosoever' means you and me; he said, `Whosoever,' and he'll never
unsay it. If you'd committed the unpardonable sin, you wouldn't be
caring now about the Bible and about your soul. If you'd committed it,
God would never have given you the light he has done, for it has come
from him; it can't have come from nowhere else. He don't open to you
the door with one hand, and then shut it in your face with the other;
that ain't his way at all He has let you in at the gate, and you may be
sure as he'll never turn you off the road with his own hand, now that
you're on it."
"Thank God for that!" said Foster, reverently. "What you say, Thomas,
carries conviction with it, for I am sure that my present views, and the
change that has so far been made in me, must be the Lord's own work;
and, if so, it is certainly only consistent that, as he has taken in
hand such a wretched blasphemer as I have been, he should not undo his
own work by casting me off again."
"Hold fast to that, William," said Bradly, "and you can't go wrong.
Just hand me your Bible; I'll show you where to find another text or two
as'll suit you well.--Eh! What's this?" he cried, as having taken the
little book into his hand, he noticed the red-ink lines which were drawn
under many of the verses. Then he turned hastily to the inside of the
cover, and uttered an exclamation of astonishment, then turned very
pale, and then very red, and gazed at the book as if fascinated by it.
There were the words on the cover,--
_Steal not this book for fear of shame_,
_For here you see the owner's name_.
_June 10, 1793_.
_Mary Williams_.
"Where did you get this book?" he asked at length, in a hoarse, broken
voice. "It's my mother's Bible; it's Jane's long-lost Bible." Then he
restrained himself, and turning quietly to Foster and his wife, who were
staring at him in bewilderment and distress, said, "Dear friends, don't
you trouble yourselves about me; there's nothing really amiss; it's all
right, and more than right, only I was taken by surprise, as you'll
easily understand when I explain matters to you. We are all friends
now, so I know I may depend upon your keeping my secret when I've told
you all about it." He then proceeded to lay the story of Jane's
troubles before his deeply interested and sympathising hearers. When he
had brought his account to an end, he said, "Now, you can understand why
I was so taken aback at seeing my mother's name in this Bible, and why
I'm so anxious to know how you came by it. Why, this is the very Bible
which was restored, or, at any rate, meant to be restored to Jane by
John Hollands three or four months ago. But, then, how did it get here?
And what's become of the bag and the bracelet?"
"I'm sure you will believe me when I tell you," said Foster, "that I am
as much surprised about the Bible as you are; and as for the bag and the
bracelet, I have neither seen nor heard anything of either. Kate,
however, can tell you best how we came by the Bible."
Mrs Foster then related how the volume, now so precious to herself and
her husband as having been the means of bringing light and peace into
their hearts and home, had been dropped in at her window by a female
hand. Of the bag and bracelet she of course knew nothing.
"There's something very strange and mysterious about it all," said
Thomas thoughtfully; "the bag and the bracelet are somewhere about, but
who can tell where? If we could only find them, all could be set
straight, and poor Jane's character completely cleared; but then it
ain't the Lord's will, so far, that it should be so. One thing's clear,
however; the tangle's being undone for us bit by bit, and what we've to
do is just to be patient and to keep our eyes and ears open; but,
please, not a word to anybody. And now, William, I must ask you to let
me have this Bible to take to poor Jane; it was her mother's, and is
full of her own marks under her favourite verses. You shall have
another instead of it, with a better print."
"Of course," replied Foster; "this book is your sister's and not ours,
and I would not keep it back from her for a moment. Still, I shall part
with it with great regret, as if I were parting with an old friend.
Little did I think a few weeks ago that I should ever care so much about
a Bible; but I thank God that this little book has done Kate and myself
so much good already, and I shall be much pleased to have another copy
as a gift from yourself."
Thomas Bradly rose to go; but Mrs Foster said, "I ought to have told
you that there was something else dropped into the room at the same time
with the Bible, but it wasn't the bracelet, I'm sorry to say."
"Stay, dear friend," cried Bradly; "let me run home to my dear sister
with her Bible; I'll be back again in half an hour."
So saying he hurried home, and seating himself by Jane, who was knitting
as usual in her snug retreat by the fireside, said, "Jane dear, the
Lord's been bringing us just one little step nearer to the light--only
one step, mind, only one little step, but it's a step in the right
direction."
"Thomas, what is it?" she exclaimed anxiously.
"Your Bible's turned up."
"My Bible, Thomas!"
"Yes, Jane." He then placed it in her hand. Yes, she could see that it
was indeed her own dearly-prized Bible.
"And the bracelet, Thomas?" she asked eagerly.--He shook his head sadly.
A shadow came over the face and tears into the eyes of his poor sister.
"The Lord's will be done," she said patiently; "but tell me, dear
Thomas, all about it."--He then related what he had heard from Kate
Foster.
"And you feel sure, Thomas, that the Fosters know nothing about the bag
or bracelet?"
"Quite sure, Jane. I'm certain that neither Foster nor his wife would
or could deceive me about this matter. But take heart, my poor sister.
See, the Lord's opening the way for you `one step at a time.' _We_
should like it to be a little faster, but _he_ says No. And see, too,
how this blessed book of yours has been made of use to Foster and his
wife. Oh, there's been a mighty work done there! But mark, Jane,
'twouldn't have been so if this Bible had come straight to you. There's
wonderful good, you see, coming out of this trial already. So wait
patiently on the Lord, the bag and the bracelet will turn up too afore
so long; they are on the road, only we don't see them yet; you may be
sure of that."
Jane smiled at him through her tears, and pressed her recovered Bible to
her lips. Then she opened it, and, as she turned over leaf after leaf,
her eye fell on many a well-known underlined text, and the cloud had
given place to sunshine on her gentle features as her brother left the
house and returned to William Foster's.