few days will shew a change in your behaviour.
Lucy kissed her father, and said, “Papa, will you pray for me?” “Yes,”
said he, “my dear, I trust God will enable me always to remember you in
my prayers.” Lucy then went to her aunt, and in a modest humble manner
really and sincerely asked her to forgive what she had done wrong.
Perhaps, some day, you may read another story about Lucy, and learn
whether she remembered her father’s advice, and how God was pleased to
bless her desire to do his will.
[Illustration]
[Illustration:
See page 107.
]
A LESSON OF MERCY.
It was the month of January; the fields and houses were covered with
snow, and the skaiters and sliders were gliding on the ice; the streets
of the towns were covered with snow, and the poor people crowded to the
wood merchants,[A] some to buy faggots, while others could only afford
to purchase a few billets, just enough to make a little fire in their
humble cottages.
Among them was a girl named Margaret, not quite ten years old. She was
but poorly dressed, and she shivered with cold.
The little girl stood near a shed where a great many faggots were piled.
She looked first at the wood and then at the money in her hand, yet did
not enter the shed, but stood shivering in the street.
On the opposite side of the way lived Mr. Basil. His eldest son, Joseph,
happened to be at the window and saw this little girl examining the
bundles of wood.
After looking at her for a few minutes, he thought she was some
workman’s daughter, and might not have money enough to buy the wood she
was sent for. He was very sorry for this, and crossed over the road to
her.
_Joseph._ It is very cold, my little girl, and you have neither bonnet
nor gloves.
_Margaret._ I never had any, Sir; but I am not very cold.
_J._ What are you doing here; do you wish to buy one of these bundles of
wood?
_M._ I should like to do so, but I am afraid that I have not got money
enough.
_J._ For whom do you wish to buy the wood?
The little girl looked down and seemed rather troubled at this question.
_J._ Did your father or your mother send you for it?
_M._ No, Sir, I wanted to give it to Old Thomas?
_J._ Who is Old Thomas?
_M._ He is our neighbour. He is a mason, and he hurt his leg a fortnight
ago, while removing some stones. He is unable to work, and is confined
to his bed, and must be very cold.
_J._ Does he know that you intend to give him a bundle of wood?
_M._ I have not told him, Sir.
_J._ My little girl, how did you get this money?
_M._ It was paid me this morning for a pair of socks which I knit last
week.
_J._ Is that your regular employment?
_M._ No, Sir, I work at the cotton factory; and my father, and mother,
and little brother, work there also.
_J._ How could you find time to make the socks?
_M._ They were only small ones; I knit them last week, very early in the
morning and during the dinner hour.
_J._ Then you have worked very hard to help your poor neighbour?
_M._ Was it not my duty, Sir? has not God told us to do so? [added she,
modestly, and not in the boasting way in which some children talk about
any good they have done.]
_J._ Did you buy any wood for Thomas before to-day?
_M._ No, Sir; last Saturday I had earned three-halfpence, but I lost
them while I was running to the shop.
_J._ I suppose you were very sorry?
_M._ Why, Sir, I could not help it when they were gone. I hoped God
would enable me to be more careful next time.
_J._ How much money have you now?
_M._ I have again got three-halfpence, and here they are, quite safe.
_J._ Well; let us ask what the bundles cost.
The price of each faggot was two-pence, and the wood-merchant said he
could not afford to sell them for less. Poor Margaret was very sorrowful
when she heard this, and she was going to depart, when Joseph said he
would pay the other half-penny.
The little girl was filled with joy. She put down her three-halfpence,
then caught up a bundle of wood and ran down the street as fast as her
burden would let her. Joseph looked after her, and saw her turn into a
court at some distance. He at first thought he would follow her, and go
to see Old Thomas, but he recollected it was the time for his drawing
lesson, and besides, he saw his father at the window beckoning to him.
“Who was that little girl?” said Mr. Basil.
Joseph told his father what had passed, and went to his drawing. When
his lesson was over, he asked his father if he might go and see Old
Thomas.
“We will go together, after dinner,” said Mr. Basil.
In the afternoon they went. The poor mason lodged in a small house at
the further end of the court. The pavement was covered with snow, except
one small space, which had been swept very carefully, and on which a
number of birds were picking up some food. Just then little Margaret
came out of the house carrying a few crumbs in her hands, which she
threw upon the place from which she had swept the snow. The birds flew
to a wall just by, and when she was gone they returned to pick up the
crumbs.
“I am glad to see you are so kind to these birds,” said Mr. Basil to the
little girl.
_M._ They are such pretty creatures, and now they cannot find any thing
to eat in the gardens and fields.
_Mr. B._ But God takes care of them, he sends you to give them some
food. God does not forget even the meanest of his creatures, and it is a
pleasure to be of use even to these little birds. But where is the poor
mason you spoke about this morning?
The little girl recollected Joseph, and blushed as she opened the door
where Thomas lived. Mr. Basil and his son entered, and, after a kind
visit to the old man, they returned home.
As they entered the house, Mr. Basil heard a noise in the garden, and
looking over the pales, he saw a lark with its foot caught in a trap of
bricks. The poor bird made a noise as if in pain, and tried in vain to
get released.
Mr. Basil went to the place, and found that a brick had caught the poor
lark by the leg, and crushed its foot.
“How cruel,” said he; and, calling the servant, asked who had set the
trap. He was very sorry to hear that Joseph had made it that
morning.--He then took the lark, went into the house, and called his
children.
“See,” said he to Joseph, shewing him how the poor lark was hurt, “see
the effects of your cruelty. This poor little creature was hungry, it
came to our house to pick up something which was of no use to us, and
you have been the means of breaking its leg, and causing it to suffer as
you see.”
The children were all very sorry, when they saw how the poor lark had
its leg crushed, and how much pain it suffered.
“It shall suffer no more pain;” said Mr. Basil, killing the poor bird.
“It is lawful for us to take the life of animals when we need them for
food, but we are to be very careful not to put them to more pain than
can be avoided. There was no occasion to catch this lark, and still less
to set a trap for it, in which it might suffer much pain, for a very
long time. Here,” added he, giving the bird to Joseph, “look at it;
think how much it suffered; this is your work to-day; compare it with
what the little girl has done! My boy, you were right in being kind to
her: but how inconsistent your cruel conduct towards the poor birds!”
Joseph could not reply. He felt how cruelly he had acted, when he saw
how the poor bird’s leg was crushed, and he determined never to set such
a trap again. I hope all my readers will form the same resolution. In
the evening, his father spoke again respecting the bird. “Please, Sir,
not to say any more about it,” said Joseph; “I see how wrong I acted,
and have been quite ashamed when I compared my conduct with that of the
little girl.”
_Mr. B._ Tell me how you could be so cruel.
_J._ I had no idea the trap would have made a poor bird suffer so much;
I thought it would have been killed at once.
_Mr. B._ But why should you desire to take away the life of a poor bird?
It is true, that God has given power to man over all animals, and that
we may deprive them of life when we need them for food. But you did not
want to satisfy your hunger, nor was it your means of getting a
livelihood, as is the case with some persons: how could you be so
thoughtless?
_J._ Papa, I forgot myself this morning.
_Mr. B._ How so?
_J._ I was cross when I got up, and then felt uncomfortable, and did not
like to pray and read my Bible; and I began to quarrel with William, who
wished to learn his lesson. I threw down my book on the floor, and spun
my humming top. After breakfast, I went into the garden, where I saw
some birds, and as I had nothing to do, I made the trap to catch them.
_Mr. B._ Well, Joseph, I am glad to find you are sensible you have done
amiss. When the day begins badly it seldom passes without something
wrong. What has happened to-day should be a lesson to you; remember to
watch over your heart. Think of Christ; he was “gentle, meek, and mild:”
let your conduct be in all things as becometh the gospel of Jesus
Christ, who suffered for our sins, to purify our hearts, and to fill us
with love to him and all around us.
Joseph did not forget his father’s words, and at night he prayed that he
might be made more like the blessed Son of God while upon earth.
He began the next day in a very different manner, and after breakfast,
asked his father to let him go and see poor Old Thomas.
_Mr. B._ Willingly; and here is a bundle of things your mother was going
to send to the little girl; you may take them, and some tracts, and tell
her to ask her parents to let her come to see your mother to-morrow
morning.
As Joseph passed along the court, he saw that the place was again
cleared from the snow, and the birds were hopping about it. He thought
of the poor lark.
Thomas was better, and able to stand. He told Joseph how kind Margaret
had been. “You cannot think,” said he, “what a good girl she is. She is
so attentive, so gentle, and so patient, that it is very plain her chief
delight is in doing good to others.”
_J._ I suppose her parents have instructed her carefully?
_T._ They have nothing but their own labour to depend upon, but they
have the fear of the Lord, and that is better than riches. They have
brought up their children in his ways. If God had not sent them to be my
neighbours, what would have become of me?
_J._ Margaret brought you some wood yesterday, did not she?
_T._ Yes, Sir; and her mother has told me how hard she worked to earn
this money. Good girl! out she is always the same: she cannot see others
in trouble without trying to do something to comfort them. Even dumb
creatures share her kindness. She collects every crumb for “the dear
pretty birds,” as she calls them.
_J._ It is very happy for a child to be born with such a kind
disposition.
_T._ Oh, Sir, it is not by nature that she has this kind disposition. I
knew her from a baby; and, till she was seven years old, she was just as
thoughtless as other children: but since that time she has, by the grace
of God, become very different.
_J._ Do you suppose she really loves Christ?
_T._ I am as sure of it as one person can be respecting another. I fully
trust that Margaret is a child of God, and that her heart has been
changed by his grace. Our Lord said, “by their fruits ye shall know
them;” and an evil tree cannot bring forth those good fruits which God
requires.
Joseph was struck with this account of Margaret. He could not help again
comparing her conduct during the day before with his own, and he felt
humbled by the comparison, but he determined to pray more earnestly for
divine grace than he had ever yet done.
As Margaret was at the factory, Joseph left the bundle with Thomas, gave
him some books suited for the afflicted, desired him to deliver the
message, and returned home.
As he passed along the court, he looked at the birds once more, and took
from them another _lesson of mercy_. “Ah,” said he, “it is very true
that we are naturally cruel and hard-hearted. Real love to the bodies
and souls of our fellow-creatures, can only be found in a heart which
‘has been changed by divine grace, and which has felt love for the
Saviour;’ and those who love him will not be cruel, even to birds and
beasts.”
Joseph did not forget _the lessons_ he had received; he was more earnest
in his prayers at the throne of grace. His conduct soon shewed that his
prayers had been heard and answered: even as our Lord promised,
“ASK AND YE SHALL RECEIVE.”
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
MOUNTAIN JOHN AND THE BEAR.
It was the evening, and the moon was shining above the trees, when the
family of Andrew the smith, heard a dreadful noise like the howling of a
wolf, or some wild animal which is wounded.
The smith’s children, who were sitting with their mother in the chimney
corner, helping her to wind some thread, trembled, and cried out, “The
wolf! the wolf! O mother, mother, shut the door and call father.”
Their mother told them to be quiet; but as the howlings continued and
seemed to approach nearer to the house, she called her husband, who was
busy working at his forge, hammering a piece of iron, so that he had not
heard the noise.
“What is the matter?” said he.
_The Children._ O father, dear father, save us from the wolf. O, he is
coming, he is coming.
So saying they ran to hide themselves. One crept under the bed, another
got behind the tubs in the wash-house. The smith snatched up a
club-stick and his bill-hook, and went out.
In a minute they heard the sound of heavy blows; the animal cried out
still more dreadfully, and something very heavy fell against the door
with great force, as if it would have beaten it in. Afterwards all was
quiet, no sound was heard except the ticking of the clock, and the
crackling of the wood fire.
Neither the mother nor her children stirred; they hardly ventured to
breathe. Presently there was a knocking on the window shutter. The poor
children were ready to die with fear, and hid their faces with their
hands. Tap, tap, was heard still more plainly, but no one dared to
answer.
“Are you all dead?” cried some one; “and must I break open the window?”
“Who are you?” said the mother, quite frightened.
“Who am I?” said the person, laughing; “that is an odd question to ask
_me_: come, open the window directly.”
“Mother,” said one of the children, “I think it is father’s voice.”
“Andrew, is it _you?_” said she.
_Andrew._ Yes, it is _me_, sure enough; we cannot get in by the door,
for the bear is lying there, and we are not sure that he is quite dead.
The mother then opened the window and the shutter. The smith and another
man jumped in at the window. Their clothes were torn and covered with
blood; their hands and faces also were bloody.
“Andrew, my dear Andrew,” exclaimed the wife, “are you hurt? say, are
you hurt?”
_Andrew._ Neither I nor my companion are hurt; but let us thank God, for
the bear was very furious. Come, quick, let us have something warm and
comfortable; the battle was sharp, and we have got some severe bruises.
Children, where are you?--you need not be afraid; the bear is too large
to get through the key-hole, and I don’t think he is very likely to stir
again.
“I am of your opinion,” said the stranger, closing the shutter of the
window. “I think God has taken away his breath; let us be thankful: we
may say, with David, ‘He has delivered us from the bear. His deliverance
is for his children.’”
The two children then made their appearance from under the bed, and from
behind the washing tub: one was covered with dust and feathers, the
other was all over cobwebs. They came up to their father, but cried out
when they saw that his arm was bloody.
_The Father._ Why, you little cowards; are you frightened at the sight
of blood? It is not mine, it came from the bear, and a little water will
wash it away. Wife, give us a pail of water.
She washed their clothes, and then gave them a good basin of soup, which
was ready for their supper, and when they had refreshed themselves, they
agreed to go and see whether the bear could bite or not. Andrew took up
his bill-hook, and the stranger took up a chopper, and they were going
to open the door.
“O father!” cried the children, “pray don’t open the door, pray don’t;
the bear will come in.”
_Andrew._ Nonsense. There; run up stairs.
_Children._ But, father, the bear will come after us.
_Andrew._ Then get into the empty flour binn.
He opened the door, and lifted up his bill-hook to strike the bear, but
it fell lifeless upon the kitchen floor.
It was a very large animal and quite dead, one of its paws was nearly
cut off, and its skull was split on the forehead. The threshold was
covered with its blood.
When Andrew and the stranger were satisfied that the bear was quite
dead, they drew it into the house and shut the door. When that was fast,
the children, who had raised the lid of the binn to peep at what was
going forward, ventured to come out, and look at the bear, but were
still afraid to touch it.
“Well,” said the wife, “sit down and tell us all about this terrible
business.”
The children crept close to their mother’s apron, as she sat by the
fire; while the stranger related what had happened, as follows:
“I am called Mountain John. I deal in _amadou_,[B] and go about to
collect mushrooms and fungus to make it. Last year I found a great many
in the wood yonder, and I came there again this morning to look for
some. About noon I sat down to rest on the hill, under the great oak,
from whence you can see so far in every direction. While I ate a crust
of bread, I admired the beautiful works of God; the lake, the valley,
and the mountains. I thought of the power of that great God who made all
things, and rejoiced as I sang His praises.--‘Well,’ thought I to
myself, ‘I am poor, and possess nothing in this world but my pack and
what it contains. When I die nobody will trouble themselves about me,
and I shall be put under ground without being missed; but I know where
my soul will go: I know in whom I have believed, and am persuaded that
he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that
day, the great day of his appearing. He has never left me destitute as
to the things of this world, much less will he leave me destitute as to
heavenly things. My Saviour has prepared a place for me in his Father’s
house. Why then, art thou cast down, O my soul? Why art thou disquieted
within me? Is not he God over all, from everlasting to everlasting? and
is he not my heavenly Father, seeing that he gave his only and well
beloved Son as a ransom for my soul.’
“While my thoughts were engaged in this manner, I saw in the valley
beneath me, a large animal running very swiftly through the bushes. At
first I thought it was an ass that had strayed, but looking stedfastly
at it, I saw it was a great bear followed by some hunters. The bear ran
into the wood by the side of the lake, followed by the huntsmen and
their dogs; presently I heard two guns fired, and I concluded that the
bear was killed.
[Illustration]
“‘This,’ thought I, ‘reminds me of the end of the wicked man. He, like
that wild beast, for a time, goes about seeking what he may devour; he
hides himself from the eyes of the world, as that beast did in the wood,
and thinks he is quite safe. But God sees the sinner, and knows the
proper time for punishing him; and, if he does not forsake his evil ways
and turn to the Lord, he will be stricken, and perish without remedy.
But those who love the Lord, and fear Him, are kept from harm; and the
wicked, although more fierce and cruel than the lion, the tiger, or the
bear, are not suffered to touch them; because, in the way in which they
go,----’”
_Andrew._ Stop a moment, John; I will shew you the text in the Bible:
here it is--in Isaiah, the 35th chapter. The prophet is speaking of the
church of Christ, and he says, “An highway shall be there, and a way,
and it shall be called, _The Way of Holiness_; the unclean shall not
pass over it; but it shall be for those (that is, the ransomed of the
Lord:) the wayfaring men, though fools, shall not err therein. No lion
shall be there, nor any ravenous beast shall go up thereon, it shall not
be found there; but the redeemed shall walk there.”
_John._ Yes, that is the passage which I remembered when I saw the bear.
After resting myself, I began again to search for mushrooms and fungus,
and I have reason to be thankful that I was pretty successful: my pack
lies yonder in the wood, full of the finest mushrooms I ever saw. To be
sure, I did not get them without trouble; I climbed several trees, and
had to creep up and down some very steep places. At last I was
benighted, and the moon had risen, when I found myself in the narrow
path which leads through the midst of the wood, by the spring yonder. I
was quite tired, so I sat down to rest; just as I was rising, I heard
something rustling among the bushes; I did not stir, and presently I saw
the great bear which I had seen in the morning, coming towards the
spring.
_The Mother._ How frightened you must have been; did not you think it
was all over with you?
_John._ Certainly, it is not very pleasant to find oneself, at night,
alone in a wood with such a companion. At first I trembled, but God was
pleased to strengthen my mind, and take away all my fear. I was no more
afraid of the bear than as if he had been a ram or a goat.
_Andrew._ But what did you do?
_John._ I left my pack and slipped behind a tree; and, while the bear
was drinking, I got away softly from one tree to another; I had reached
the skirt of the wood, close to your house, and was about to run for
shelter; when, all at once, I found the bear was close behind me. It was
no use then trying to run from him, so I turned round, and, praying to
God to preserve my life, I waited for him. He was close upon me, and in
a moment he rose upon his hind legs to seize me, uttering a frightful
howl. As I said, I had prayed for strength, and snatching up a large
stone which lay close by me, I struck him on the nose with all my force,
and knocked him backwards. I jumped upon his neck, and continued
striking him on the nose, while he tried to ward off the blows with his
paws. I was nearly spent, when God sent you just in time to save my
life, and enabled you after a short struggle to wound him mortally with
your bill-hook.
_Andrew._ It reminds me of the history of David. How kind of the Lord to
take away your fear, and make you determine to attack the bear first,
and then to guide your hand to strike him on the nose, which is a very
tender part in that animal. This, indeed, was the work of God’s
providence; and remember this, children, it is a proof that the Lord
always protects those who trust in him.
_Mother._ How glad I am, Andrew, that you did not go to the mill this
evening, as you intended. How providential that you staid at home, else
what would have become of John!
_John._ Ah, my good woman, I am accustomed to experience, that God knows
all things, and directs all things, and that there is nothing forgotten,
or too trifling for him to notice, when it concerns his people. I was
taught this when I was not older than your boy, and by his grace I now
know that he has redeemed me by his own precious blood, and made me one
of his children. Therefore I can trust him with my body and my soul,
which are his.
_Andrew._ My dears, remember what this good man has told us. You see
that he trusted in God, because he believed in him as the Saviour, and
you see how the Lord has just now preserved him from a terrible death.
The eldest child then rose, went to John, and took hold of his hand.
John lifted him upon his knees, and said, “Well, my boy, will not you
trust in our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ? Tell me, should you not like
to resemble David when he was a little boy?”
The child hung down his head, and said “Yes,” in a low tone of voice. He
then looked at his mother, who patted him on the head, saying, “O yes, I
do hope that my dear Henry has already learned something of the goodness
of the Lord, and that he tries to do His will.”
_J._ But would he be afraid if he saw a great bear coming?
Henry replied, “How could I help being afraid of him? he is so big and
so fierce. Why, he would have knocked me to pieces with one blow of that
great paw yonder.”
_J._ Yes, we are all exposed to dangers of various kinds and often if we
escape from one we may fall into another, “as if a man did flee from a
lion, and a bear met him;” but, my boy, trust in the Lord, and neither a
bear nor that “roaring lion,” which goes about seeking whom he may
devour, even the devil, as we read in the epistle of St. Peter, will be
able to hurt you. He who watches over your soul is able to keep you from
evil and danger. He preserved me when I was about your age, and has done
so again to-day.
[Illustration]
_H._ What! did you fight a bear when you were no bigger than I am?