read?
_D._ O yes, I can read very well, but I do not spend my time in reading
all sorts of books.
_J._ Mr. Richard, you must not speak of the Bible in that manner. It is
the word of God, who made the heavens, and the earth, and all things,
and it is truth itself.
_D._ Why what can all such a great book be about?
_J._ It tells the history of the world since the creation. There is an
account of the deluge, when all the earth was covered with water, even
the tops of the mountains. There is the history of Abraham and Isaac,
and then there is the beautiful history of Joseph, and an account of
wicked Pharaoh who was drowned in the Red Sea. Then there is the history
of Moses and the ten commandments, which God spake from mount Sinai. And
there is the history of King David who wrote the Psalms, and of Solomon
his son, who was the wisest man. But then above all there is the history
of the Son of God, who came down from heaven and died for sinners, I
mean Jesus Christ our Lord and Saviour; and I cannot tell you how many
histories besides.
[Illustration]
_D._ Pray what is to be learned from all these histories, as you call
them?
_J._ They teach us what God is, and all that he has done for us his
creatures. But above all, they teach us that we are all sinners by
nature and inclined to evil, and that Jesus Christ, the Son of God,
alone can save our souls from being lost and suffering punishment in
hell.
_D._ Then I am in danger of being lost, and do I need any body to save
my soul?
_J._ Why, Mr. Richard what do you think? All are sinners, and surely you
are not one of the best among us.
_D._ What do you mean by a sinner?
_J._ A sinner is one who does not fear God, who tells lies, who steals,
who is disobedient to his parents, who delights to keep company with
wicked persons, and who does not keep holy the Sabbath-day.
_D._ Why, if these are all sinners there is a fine lot of them in our
neighbourhood, and perhaps after all you are one of them, Miss Jenny.
_J._ Yes, it is too true, I am a sinner, but--then--I know from the
Bible what God has done for me.
_D._ Well I should like to know what God has done for you more than for
me?
_J._ I did not say that he had not done the same for you, Mr. Richard;
He will do the same for all those who ask him. O believe on Christ.
_D._ Well, and pray what is this good thing?
_J._ I trust that He has saved my soul from hell, by the death of Jesus
Christ the Son of God, who died upon the cross and shed his precious
blood to cleanse my soul from its sins. This is what I trust God has
done for me, and I have good reason for believing that he has done this,
for the word of God tells me so.
_D._ Has He done this for me, Jenny?
_J._ If you read the Bible you will find that Christ died for sinners,
even for the chief of sinners, as the hymn says.
“But what is more than all beside,
“The Bible tells as Jesus died:
“This is its best, its chief intent,
“To lead poor sinners to repent.”
But it is time I went to work, for my mother has to go to market, and
must wait till I return.--Good bye, Mr. Richard.
Dick did not reply. He was thinking about what Jenny had told him, and
particularly the latter part of it.
[Illustration]
“It is too true,” said he, returning towards the village, “what good do
I get from the way in which I am going on. I am more wretched than a
dog. All day I am unhappy and out of humour. Every body in the village
despises me, even the little children. If I am at home I am sure to be
scolded or beaten; if I go out with my companions, we are always lying,
and stealing, and swearing and quarrelling. What good is there in going
on so? How different is Jenny: she is about my age, and how happy she
always seems! How pleased she looked last night, while her mother was
talking about that Bible which they all seem so fond of. But why should
not I read it as well as they? I’ll go to old Joseph--I recollect one
day he offered to lend me a Bible; I’ll go directly.”
Dick then ran on, and going round the outside of the village he came to
the old basket-maker’s cottage. He was afraid of meeting his father, but
at last he safely arrived at Joseph’s cottage.
[Illustration]
The basket-maker was very busily at work.--“What, Dick, idle Dick, is it
you? O my boy, when will you turn from your evil ways?”
“I am come on purpose,” said Dick, in a humble tone, “I am come to ask
for the Bible you offered to lend me.”
“What! you asking for a Bible?” said Joseph with surprise. “Can the
Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard his spots.” Jer. xiii. 23.
_D._ Indeed I came on purpose to ask for it.
_J._ And how came you to think about it? Did it come into your head last
night when you jumped out of the window upon the dunghill, and lurked
about in Maud’s field?
_D._ Did you see me?
_J._ I see you? If I had, I should not have let you go on playing your
tricks.
_D._ Does my father know about it?
_J._ O yes, he knew all about it last night, and he saw you skulking
under the hedge this morning.
Dick was quite astonished; he coloured, and looked like a thief caught
in the act.
_J._ Why I do believe you are ashamed for once. You know what you have
done, and out will come the horsewhip.
Dick sat down on a stone, and began to cry, “O how unhappy I am, I wish
I was dead!”
_J._ Why that perhaps might suit you, if it was not for what the Bible
tells us. But now, Dick, say which you had rather suffer; a few
horse-whippings in this world, or eternal torments in the next? But
come, we will see whether something cannot be done to make up what has
happened. What have you been about since day-break?
Dick related his conversation with Jenny, and said, “My good Mr. Joseph,
I do assure you I am now in earnest, and am determined to behave
better.”
_J._ My boy, I suppose hunger makes you say so? Pray did you have any
supper last night, or any breakfast this morning?
_D._ I am hungry enough to be sure, but it is neither hunger nor the
horsewhip which makes me wish to behave better. I am determined not to
go on in this way any longer; I am more wretched than a dog.
The basket-maker went into his cottage, and fetched a cup of milk and a
good piece of bread. He gave them to Dick, saying, “Here, Richard, take
this, and eat what God has given you; and since you wish to lead a new
life, suppose you begin by asking a blessing on the breakfast he sends
you.”
Dick put his hands together, but he did not know what to say, for he had
never asked a blessing in his life. Joseph saw what was the case, and
taking off his hat, he said, “O Lord, who art kind even to the
unthankful and evil, look upon this lad; bless this bread to his use,
but above all give him the bread of life which is in Christ Jesus.”
“Yes, I hope he will,” said Dick; (for he did not know what Amen meant,)
and he ate with a good appetite.
While he breakfasted, Joseph talked to him about God and his word.
_J._ My poor Richard, I am afraid you are almost as ignorant as a
heathen. I fear you are like the child of an idolater. You hardly know
whether you have a soul to be saved.
_D._ What need I to be saved from?
_J._ From the wrath to come--that dreadful wrath with which God in his
justice will punish all sin at the day of judgment.
_D._ Is that quite certain? Are you sure that God will punish all
sinners?
_J._ Yes, I am quite sure, for the Bible tells us so. Christ himself
said, “The hour is coming, in the which all that are in the graves shall
hear His voice, and shall come forth: they that have done good, unto the
resurrection of life; and they that have done evil, unto the
resurrection of damnation.” (John v. 28, 29.)
_D._ Will it be very dreadful to be condemned in this manner?
_J._ “The wicked are reserved to the day of destruction; they shall be
brought forth to the day of wrath.” (Job. xxi. 30.) And the King will
say, “Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the
devil and his angels.” (Matt. xxv. 41.) You will read more about this in
the word of God; and remember, Richard, I say _remember_, what that book
tells us _is true_!
_D._ That frightens me; how shall I escape?
_J._ Read the hundred and thirty-ninth psalm. You will find it is
impossible to escape from God. “Whither shall I flee from thy presence,
for even the darkness hideth not from God.” (Psalm cxxxix.)
Dick held down his head, and was silent for a few minutes. He then said,
“I wish I could change my conduct, for I am not happy, and I am afraid I
shall go to hell if I die.”
_J._ Ah! my lad, you told me so the other day, when you laid in bed
after your father had given you that good beating. I am afraid, after
all, it is only the horsewhip that has brought you to this way of
thinking.
[Illustration]
_D._ You don’t believe me, and I do not wonder, for I have often told
lies; but, indeed, it is not for fear of the horsewhip that I wish to
change my conduct.
_J._ Are you quite sure? Now tell me the truth, and nothing but the
truth, Do you really desire to amend your evil ways?
_D._ I do not quite understand what you mean by ‘amend,’ but I know
this, that if my father had horsewhipped me, and even broken my bones, I
should wish the same. I feel something in my heart which wishes for this
change.
_J._ How long have you wished for this change?
_D._ Ever since the day when neighbour Maud spoke to me as I sat upon
the bench at the door; I pretended not to mind what she said, but I
could not help thinking about it. And then last night when I saw her
look so comfortable as she read the Bible, and prayed with Jenny and
your servant, it struck me still more. I thought of it all night while I
laid upon the leaves, and this morning I was thinking about it when I
saw Jenny, and what she said made me quite determined. Now do believe
me, Mr. Joseph, when I say I do wish to change my conduct. Yes I do,
indeed I do.
The basket-maker held out his hand, and said, “Well, Richard, I cannot
help believing you.--Since you really wish this, and since God, I trust,
draws you to him, I will not keep you back. You shall find me your
friend; I will be a true parent to you. Here, strip the bark off these
twigs while I go to your father.”
Dick felt as if a load was taken off his heart. He set to work
cheerfully, and that was more than he had done for the last twelvemonth.
After some time Joseph returned; he looked pleased, and as soon as he
came in sight he called out, “The horsewhip is put away; you may return
home without fear, your father will receive you kindly.”
Dick jumped up, and threw his arms round Joseph, and thanked him with
tears in his eyes.
_J._ And I have got your father to consent that you may come here, to
me, every day for two hours in the morning and two hours in the evening,
that you may learn my trade; and he also promises that you shall not be
called upon to wait in the public-house on Sundays. Have I done right,
Dick; say, perhaps you do not like this plan?
Dick again threw his arms round the old man’s neck, and said, “Father
Joseph, may I come this afternoon?”
_J._ Yes, my lad, if you please, I shall expect you; but go now to your
father, and mind what he says. If he scolds you, remember you have
deserved it, and do not reply again.
Dick was running off. Joseph said, “Stop a moment. What must we call you
in future, Idle Dick, or Industrious Richard?”
“You will see in a few days,” said Dick, and was out of sight in an
instant; but he came back in the afternoon.
* * * * *
You will be glad to hear that he was called ‘Diligent Dick.’--Yes, he
was so changed by the blessing of God upon the counsels and instructions
of old Joseph, that in a few months he was quite different from what he
used to be.
Every day he became more industrious at his work, more correct in his
behaviour, and neater in appearance, milder in his language, and more
regular in all he had to do.
What produced this great change?
It was by the use of means which God has appointed, and which he has
promised to bless. I mean by the study of the Scriptures and prayer.
Joseph read some portions every day with Richard, and set him some
verses, which he learned against the next day.
While they were at work, Joseph used to talk with him, and explain to
him the truths which are in the Bible. On Sundays he especially attended
to this, and talked with him about the love of our Heavenly Father, who
sent Jesus as a Saviour for poor lost sinners, and to save children, as
well as grown persons.
[Illustration]
Joseph often used to pray with Richard, and was very faithful in telling
him of his faults; but he always did this the kind way pointed out by
the word of God, and by shewing him from that book the example of some
child of God who was remarkable for some good quality, the very reverse
of the fault which Richard had committed.
Dick had been called ‘good-for-nothing’ while he kept bad company, but
when he became acquainted with the truths of Scripture, he forsook his
evil companions; and though they pressed him to come among them, he
steadily refused to do so. You may be sure he found out the little girl
and gave her back her half crown.
His former wicked associates were astonished at this change. They made
game of him, and used to insult him; but all the good people in the
village, all those who loved God, the true disciples of Jesus, welcomed
Richard as a friend;
[Illustration]
and when they saw him going by, they used to say, “Aye, there he
is,--when he despised instruction he was an idle vagabond and a
good-for-nothing fellow; but since he has delighted in the word of God,
and studied its precepts, he is become an honest, industrious, worthy
lad. O! how wonderful a change the grace of the Lord has made in that
poor lad!”
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE LADY-BIRD.
I was busy, and my little boy Charles, just seven years old, was playing
about the room. All at once he ran up to me, and asked me to look at a
little insect which was crawling upon a piece of paper in his hand.
_Charles._ Look, papa, at this insect: how very small it is! How fast it
moves its little feet. Why did God make such a little thing?
_Father._ It is a Lady-bird. I will put it under the microscope, and you
will then see something more than you expect.
_C._ Quick, papa, else it will fly away.
I put the insect under the microscope without hurting it. To the naked
eye it did not appear any thing particular. Its back was red, with black
and white spots; underneath, it was of a greyish colour.
On looking through the microscope I was struck with wonder. Its back,
which had appeared so plain, was beautiful; the red part I found was
covered with a sort of elegant feathers, all ranged in the most exact
order; the black and white spots were as regular as the squares of a
chess board, and were formed of something like scales, of the clearest
white, bordered with others of a bright shining black; it was divided
lengthways by a black line, and the two sides were exactly alike.
“How wonderful are the works of God,” I exclaimed, “Who would have
supposed that this little insect was so beautifully and wonderfully
made? How perfect are all His works!”
Charles was in a great hurry to see for himself. He looked several
minutes without speaking, and then turned towards me with surprise.
_C._ Oh, papa, how beautiful it is! How wonderful that God should give a
little thing like that such a beautiful shining dress. Did you see his
head, and the scales on his back? They shine like silver or glass. How
beautiful, how very beautiful!
_F._ My boy, since our heavenly Father is so great, so wise, and so
powerful, since he has taken such care of such a little insect, think
what care he takes of his children, whom he so loved that he gave his
only and well-beloved son, Jesus Christ, to die for their sins, that
those who believe in him may be saved from the wrath to come.
_C._ Yes; I recollect reading in St. Matthew, how he told his disciples
that they “were of more value than many sparrows.” They must then be of
more value than this little insect; and since God has given it such a
beautiful dress, surely he will take care of us. Thank you, papa, for
having let me see the Lady-bird, for it shows us how good and kind the
Lord is, and how wonderful are his works.
_F._ You are right Charles; it is a mark of God’s love, that he causes
us to know and feel his wisdom and power. Above all, it is very kind of
him to enable us to trust in him, and to feel assured that he takes care
of us. That he sees us, and keeps us from evil.
_C._ As the little book says,
“He keeps from harm, he gives me food,
“And every day he does me good.”
I then turned the glass box in which the insect was shut, and looked at
the other side. Its three pair of legs were placed so that it could move
properly; they were covered with very small scales which protected them,
and yet allowed them to move in every direction. Its little feet were
joined on with the utmost nicety; they moved with perfect freedom, and
all was most regular and beautiful.
“How perfect and how active,” said I, “How wonderful in every part!
Where is there a workman, however skilful, that can at all imitate any
part of this Lady-bird? And, if one was made, where is the man, even
supposing him to be the wisest person upon earth, that would enable it
to move about as this does?”
_C._ Papa, you told us one day there were some persons who said the
world was made by chance? What do they mean? How can that be?
_F._ There is no such thing as chance. All things were made by God. He
is the Creator and Preserver of all things. If any body says this little
Lady-bird was made by chance, I should think he had never seen how
wonderfully it is formed, for it could only have been made by some very
wise and powerful Being.
_C._ But what do these people mean, who say that Nature has made the
animals, the plants, and even men?
_F._ In general they are ignorant people, without religion, who, instead
of giving glory to God, and blessing him as their Creator and Preserver,
endeavour to put out even his name from their writings, and their
discourses, and say Nature made this or that thing, instead of saying
that God, or the Lord, made them.
_C._ Then it was God that made all things! He preserves us every moment,
and yet very often we do not think about him. Why is this, papa?
_F._ My dear; our hearts are by nature far from God, and do not love
him. Sin is the cause of this; it turns our hearts aside from our
heavenly Father, who created us. Thus some persons wish that it was not
God who protects us and keeps us from harm, and gives us all that is for
our good.
_C._ Ah! papa; then there are but few persons who love God and trust in
him?
_F._ It is only _his children_ who love him, and rejoice to praise Him,
and bless His name, who trust sincerely and with all their hearts in
Him. To be a _true Christian_, is to have the heart renewed and cleansed
from its sins, by the precious blood of Christ, being made holy by the
Spirit of God. We are, by nature, like that little insect. God has given
it life and motion, nourishment, clothing, and all it wants; but it does
not think about him, nor wish to thank him.
_C._ But when we are naughty we must be worse than the Lady-bird, for it
does not offend God and sin against Him.
_F._ You are right, my dear boy; those who love sin are not so good as
that little insect. Then how thankful should we be, that Christ Jesus
our Lord died to redeem us from the curse and power of sin: and that he
makes those who seek him children of God, uniting them to himself for
ever.
_C._ I hope God will be my father, and love me. Surely he will take care
of me, for he gave his Son to save me. How kind that was!
_F._ Then, my dear child, love this Saviour; try to glorify Him, and
remember the words of St. Paul, “He that spared not his own Son, but
delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give
us all things.” Remember this Lady-bird; how beautifully and wonderfully
it is made by the power of our Lord. Above all things seek with
confidence for his blessing, who, through Christ Jesus, is your heavenly
father, and will not forget you.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE LOST CHILD.
Mrs. Sinclair was a good and tender mother and very seldom left her
little family.
One afternoon she was obliged to go out, and as it was to visit a sick
person, she thought it best not to take with her either Charlotte, who
was five years old, or Charles, who was just three years and a half. Her
eldest son, Ernest, was gone out with his father, and there was nobody
left at home except the servants and the children. Mrs. Sinclair spoke
particularly to Fanny, the nurse maid, telling her to great care of
Charles and Charlotte.
The nurse took the children into the garden; they then ran about in the
meadow, while she gathered them some nosegays, and after some time they
returned towards the house, and again played about in the garden.
While they were there Fanny discovered that she had lost her
handkerchief, and instead of asking the cook to fetch her one, she told
Charlotte to take care of her brother for a minute or two, while she
ran to the nursery to get one.
When Fanny opened her drawer, she found somebody had tumbled her best
gown, and her huswife and balls of cotton were all mixed about among her
clothes. Now, Fanny liked to see her things neat, and in their proper
places, so she could not bear to leave them in disorder, and while she
set her drawer to rights, above a quarter of an hour passed away.
All at once she recollected the children, and looking out of the window
she saw Charlotte very busy undressing her doll, and called to her,
“Where is Charles?”
“Oh, there he is,” said Charlotte, without looking up.
“I do not see him,” cried Fanny, and ran down stairs as fast as
possible.
She looked round but he was not in sight.
“He was here just this minute,” said Charlotte; “he was looking at a
snail which was crawling by that monkshood.”
Fanny now began to be frightened, and ran to the kitchen window to see
if Charles was there. The cook had not seen him; she then ran round the
garden, but he was not to be found. The cook now came, and they looked
in the yard, and examined the dog kennel, for Charles had once gone and
laid himself down along with “Captain;” but now Captain was asleep in
his kennel quite alone.
They then thought he might have gone to the kitchen garden, but the door
was locked, and Mrs. Sinclair had taken the key. Fanny next examined the
shrubbery at the end of the garden, and the gate which opened into the
meadow, but that was shut.
You may suppose how anxious Fanny now felt; the sun was just setting,
and not a sound was heard except the mill, and the sheep-bells at a
distance. At this moment, Mr. Sinclair, who had just returned, met her,
and asked what was the matter, and where the children were.
_Fanny, (bursting into tears.)_ O, Sir, Charlotte is up stairs; but--
_Mr. Sinclair._ But what! Where is Charles?
Fanny cried very bitterly, and could not answer.
_Mr. S._ Where is he? What is the matter?
The cook then came, and said, “Sir, Charles is lost.”
_Mr. S._ Lost! What do you mean! lost! when, and how?
_Cook._ We have been looking for him this half hour, Sir; he was just
before that time in the broad walk with his sister; but we cannot find
what is become of him.
Mr. Sinclair appeared struck; he was silent for a minute, but his lips
moved as if he was uttering a short prayer. He then inquired very
earnestly, but calmly, where they had looked.
_F._ Oh, every where, every where, Sir; Oh how unhappy I am.
_Ernest._ I dare say you are, but why could not you take care of the
child?
_Mr. S._ Ernest, this is not a moment to give way to anger; we must
examine how it happened afterwards; but God knows where your brother is,
I trust he will enable us to find him; quick, we must lose no time; I
dare say he has got into the meadow.
_F._ Sir, the gates are both shut.
_Mr. S._ The smallest gate easily shuts to, and a gust of wind may have
closed it after he had gone through.
Ernest and his father then went into the meadow. On one side was a
copse, through which there was a path, and on the other side the ground
rose till it became a steep hill, and sloped down on the other side
rather suddenly towards the lake.
“Cross the meadow, Ernest, and go up the hill,” said his father; “I will
go round through the copse, and meet you.”
Ernest made haste, and called out, “Charles, Charles,” as he ran, for he
was very fond of his little brother: “Charles, Charles, where are you?
Oh, I wish I knew where you are gone.”
He then recollected what his father had said, and as he loved and feared
God, he thought, “O Lord, thou knowest where Charles is gone, direct me
where to find him.”