THE POOR PRODIGAL SON.
About this time our young friend met with a singular adventure. He
had been taught by his pastor, by reading the Bible, and, above all,
by the teachings of the Holy Spirit, that if we love Christ, that
love will make us wish to do good to others, and seek to bring them
to the Saviour. It was John’s constant prayer that God would give
him something to do for Christ. Now, when we offer such a prayer in
sincerity, it will be answered. We have seen that even when a young
boy, John was taught to be useful to Antonio and his brother Henry;
and as he grew older, his opportunities for doing good increased. My
young reader, is there no one to whom you can do some good? Do you
love the Lord Jesus yourself? This is the first and most important
question; for if you are not a child of God, you cannot be useful to
others,--indeed, you will do harm, and thus have a dreadful account to
give at the day of judgment.
But to return to John’s adventure. In the marshes at the mouth of
the bay, there are great quantities of wild ducks. Many persons are
employed in the winter season in shooting these birds, to supply the
city market. They go out in small boats in pursuit of the game.
John often met with these duck hunters; but as they were not always
profitable companions, he avoided them, remembering that the Bible
says, ‘Evil communications corrupt good manners.’
It happened, however, that being obliged to lie at anchor, to make some
little repairs to his rigging, he stopped where a small river emptied
itself into the bay. Two or three huts had been built to shelter the
hunters; for this was a favourite resort of the wild fowl.
As John was busy splicing ropes, a man, paddling a skiff, came
alongside, and hailed him with, ‘My lad, have you any medicine aboard?
I wish you would let me have some for a sick man.’
‘What kind do you want?’ John inquired.
‘Well, I suppose it don’t matter much; one kind is as good as another.
But perhaps you would come yourself and see our young man, he seems
very bad.’
John did not hesitate; and taking a medicine chest, which he always
kept with him, he jumped into the skiff, and in a few moments was at
the side of the sick person.
Stretched on a hard and dirty pallet, in a damp, comfortless hovel,
there lay a fine-looking youth of eighteen, raving with fever, calling
continually on his father and mother to come to him.
Several young men passed through the room, but they seemed reckless
and dissipated, and their noisy mirth increased the delirium of the
sufferer.
John seated himself by the bed, and taking the sick man’s hand, spoke
kindly to him in a gentle voice. How powerful is the force of kindness!
Those calm words soothed the mind of the youth, and he remained more
quiet, while John endeavoured to discover his disease. Exposure and
neglect, it seemed, had brought on a fever, which threatened to be
fatal. John gave him some medicine, bathed his burning temples,
smoothed his pillow, and fanned him until he sank to sleep. Antonio
brought from the schooner some tea which he prepared; and before night
they had the satisfaction of seeing him more comfortable. It was not
John’s way to do things by halves; and seeing that the poor sufferer
could have no attention from his associates, and would probably die if
neglected, he sent Antonio on with the vessel, while he remained with
his sick charge. The remedies which he had administered soon broke the
fever; and now that the patient was calm, he learned his history.
Edward Reeder had been brought up by pious parents; but falling into
evil company, he had been induced to leave his father’s house, and in
company with a band of reckless youths, came out in this enterprise.
But now he saw his sin and folly, and how frail a dependence is the
friendship of the wicked.
As his young friend read and talked with him he shed tears of
repentance, and begged John to take him away from the scene of
dissipation and wretchedness into which he had brought himself.
As soon as he was able to bear it, John and Antonio carried him to
the skiff, and thus brought him on board the ‘Sally.’ The sea breezes
restored him in a few days, and then John took him to his mother, that
by her good nursing his cure might be completed.
Edward returned to his parents, much wiser and better than when he left
his home. Neither he nor his family ever forgot the kindness of John.
He called him his deliverer; and every year a handsome present was sent
to the family in token of gratitude.