what we have accomplished, as the effort that we make. It is not what
we give that makes our offering acceptable, but the spirit in which it
is given; not what we do, but the spirit in which it is done.”
“I wish it was not such an effort to be good. I do try.”
“It is so to every one, Marston; you are no exception. The more you
read and study the Bible, the more you will learn that life is a
continued warfare. Good and great as St. Paul was, he felt this more
keenly than you do. The natural heart is deceitful, depraved, and
desperately wicked; and even when renewed by divine grace, still
constant watch and care are needed lest we fall into temptation.”
“Who then can be good?” I asked.
“All those who lean upon the Saviour. But so soon as we aim to walk by
ourselves, we are lost. You must do this, Marston;” and Robert Lovell
slid his arm around me, and in the silence of my own room, prayed with
me as Mr. Kirby had done, that I might become an earnest follower of
Christ; that I might be willing to be taught of him; and that now,
in the morning of life, I might dedicate both heart and life to his
service.
“This is what I want to do,” I said as we rose from our knees; “but
when I try hardest, my thoughts will fly off to something else, or
hasty, impetuous feelings will rush over me, and make me feel there is
no use in trying. Oh Robert, you don’t know what a wicked boy I am.”
“There is no good in ourselves, Marston. It is all of His mercy. Go
to the Saviour just as you are, and ask his assistance, his Spirit.
He knows all your temptations, all your weaknesses, and he also knows
all your efforts. Love and trust him, and his Spirit will help you to
overcome. You will try to do this? say that you will;” and he held me
firmly by the hand.
“I will, Robert; I will.”
Rockdale was less than half a mile from Terryville. It had been Mr.
Harlan’s custom to have his pupils go to Mr. Farnham’s church, leaving
him free to preach in the neighborhood adjacent. In this way many were
favored with the preached word that would otherwise have been deprived
of it; and it is to be hoped much good was done by thus scattering the
seed in out-of-the-way places.
But while Mr. Harlan was doing all the good he could, and Robert
Lovell was not unmindful of the work before him, active in the double
position of both teacher and pupil, there were at Rockdale other
spirits quite as energetic in another direction--boys that seemed to
have no idea of any thing beyond physical enjoyment, to elude the
teachers, escape study, and “have a good time.” This was the great end
and aim of their school life.
As Robert Lovell’s home was at the extreme part of the village, I
did not see as much of him as of some of the others; and no doubt he
thought me weak and vacillating, contrasting as I sometimes did the
industrious, painstaking pupil with the selfish, ease-loving one, who
seemed to get along just as well. Happy, cheerful, fun-loving spirits,
with plenty of money to spend, and always ready for a forage on
watermelons or into the cakes and pies in Mrs. Harlan’s pantry. Their
only concern was, not to be discovered. Like the Spartan, they held it
was no harm to steal; the only disgrace was in being discovered; every
other consideration was too trivial for a moment’s notice.
“Such boys will not make men,” said Robert Lovell. “Look in your ‘Self
Helps’--you will find no such examples.”
After a while I had an opportunity to go home, as I continued to call
Miss Grimshaw’s, more perhaps because Jennie lived there than any
thing else. All the weeks that I had been at school, Jennie had been
studying; and that evening she had much to tell me of her lessons,
many questions to ask, and explanations to go over. She had taken up
philosophy and natural science; and her quick understanding seemed to
grasp easily what it had taken me a long time to learn.
“There is one exercise that you have,” she said at tea, “that I should
like very much, and that is composition.”
“Composition!” and I laughed heartily; for the week before I had
listened to a knot of girls as they spoke particularly of their dislike
of this exercise above all others.
“If you desire to write compositions,” I replied, trying to look grave,
“I do not see why you may not write them here. I have to write them,
and I try to do my best. I can’t say how little I might do if I was not
obliged to do it.”
“Yes, but how am I to know if they are correctly written?”
“You can see that they are spelled rightly, written and folded neatly.
Put your thought into the very best language you have. The second time
it will be easier than the first, and so on. Write just as you would
talk, easy, naturally, and without effort. These are the rules Mr.
Harlan gave me. I will find some one to correct them for you.”
Besides composition, Jennie had to tell me about her pupil, for young
as she was she had turned teacher.
“He is a big boy, nearly as large as you are, Marston; but I felt so
sorry for him. He said his father and mother were both dead, and he
had no one to care for him, no one to mind whether he was bad or good;
that he did try to work, and Mr. Wyman turned him away: he forgot one
night to put up the bars, and the cows got into the corn. He was sorry,
and would not have neglected it again; yet Mr. Wyman would not believe
him, but told him he had nothing more for him to do. I couldn’t help
telling him that if he would come in every evening I would teach him
arithmetic; and sure enough, he has been in regularly, and is studying
in good earnest.”
“Pray what is your pupil’s name?”
“Ezra Metcalf. Oh, brother, you know he is a big boy; but he has never
had anybody to tell him how to be good. He goes to Sabbath-school too;”
and she looked eagerly for my approval.
“He has improved a great deal,” said grandma; “he hardly looks like the
same boy; as trim and neat as anybody now: he has found a place to live
and work, and goes to church regularly. I never saw such a change in
any one. I shouldn’t wonder if he made somebody right smart yet; if he
does, you’ll have the credit of it, child.”
“I do not think there is any credit in it, grandma. What should I have
known, had there been no one to tell me? Marston and I have much to be
thankful for. I often think of Mr. Kirby, and how much he told me.
Ezra Metcalf never had a friend like that.”
“You are right, Jennie,” said grandma with a little pat of her hand; “I
am glad to see that you are willing to share with others the good that
you have yourself received. This is as it should be.”
Thus Jennie was finding her work, and I was stimulated anew as we
talked over all that Mr. Kirby had taught us.
“If we could only have such a person with us all the time,” said
Jennie. “And still my Sabbath-school teacher says that we can all have
a Friend better and wiser than any earthly friend can be. All that is
necessary is to ask him; the precious Saviour is always ready to be a
friend to any who heartily desire him. You do, don’t you, Marston?” and
she laid her little head on my shoulder; “and I do. Mr. Kirby could not
stay with us, neither can we be together; we both want just such a
Friend;” and the blue eyes looked up to mine pleadingly.
“Yes, Jennie, I mean to ask Him.”
“We will both ask Him. Miss Ackers says he never turns any away,
especially if they are poor. I told Ezra Metcalf of this, and he
promised to seek the Saviour.”
[Illustration]
IX.
The gorgeous autumn days had gone, and the snow was beginning to
whiten the mountains, when Robert Lovell left Rockdale to teach in a
neighboring district during the winter months. Very lonely it seemed
without him; for with the exception of Mr. and Mrs. Harlan, there
was no one else that felt half the interest in me, and as a natural
consequence, of whom I thought half as much. I should miss him, but
then my duties would not allow of many regretful moments. Snow, ice,
and cold weather would only add to my work; and I tried hard to look it
in the face, and to be cheerful and happy.
“Homesick without Lovell!” said my room-mate, one of the best-natured,
most amiable, and still most indolent scholars in school. “Such an
old sanctimonious thing; he never entered into any of our fun, neither
would he let you. I tell you what, Marston, you’ve been shut up long
enough. We have some capital times that the old folks know nothing
about.”
“Is that right, Farden?” I asked.
“‘Right!’ that’s Lovell all over,” and he laughed till the room
fairly echoed. “‘Right’ who ever heard such a question but from some
white-livered thing like Lovell?”
“Farden, you shall not speak of Lovell in that manner. Cowardice has no
part in his character; you know as well as I do there is not a braver
scholar in the school;” and I bounded across the room, startled out of
my usual quiet by the unjust accusation.
“Really, Howe, you show anger just as soon as any of us, in spite of
all your goodness. A thousand pities Lovell is not here to see you in
such a towering passion. That’s just what I like, though. I only said
it to see if you could be worked up.”
“You knew it was untrue, and yet said it to stir me up. Richard Farden,
I had not thought you could do any thing so base as that; for the
future I shall understand you better;” and I turned on my heel and went
back to my book.
“I know he’s as brave as a lion. Come, Howe, it was foolish; I did not
mean to anger you; I am sorry. Come, make up with me. I see Lovell has
not spoiled you; only say that you will be one with us.”
“I will not be one with you,” and I opened my Virgil.
“What’s the use of studying your eyes out, Howe? it will do you no
good.”
“Good or not, I shall study,” I answered, vexed at myself for being
so hasty; “I came here to study.” I thought of Jennie’s pale face, and
earnest eyes; she was now studying, and I could not but acknowledge to
myself that she would feel sorry did she know how easily I had been
disturbed. How was it that my good resolves were so easily shaken?
Why was I so moved by the word and look of another? Could I only have
looked with an unwavering trust to Him who was both able and willing to
be to me the friend I so much needed.
And still I thought I loved and trusted him. But Oh, it was only a half
trust. I did not lean implicitly on him; I still felt that I could do
something to merit his favor; that something was expected and required
of me, and I must do it.
[Illustration]
And here let me urge all in the long list of climbers, to examine well
and see if self does not intrude: if they are in truth willing to
be guided and led by Christ; willing to walk in the path appointed,
not idly, not passively, not sleepily, but with energy, doing all that
can be done, always doing their best. Never giving way, going back,
desponding, or denying Christ. Or, if they have denied him, like Peter
repenting bitterly, and resolving as he did to be more energetic, more
fearless, more faithful in the future.
The room was so still I thought Farden had gone out; but soon there
was a blue line of smoke curling and twisting upward, and the subtle
perfume of the “fragrant weed” was plainly perceptible. A little sigh,
and Farden poised his cigar in true professional style, tipped back his
chair, planted both feet on the mantel, and spoke again.
“I came here to study. There was no end to the plans I laid. I was
to study every day and every night, and in a short time I expected to
learn all that was to be taught here; then to college, and had little
doubt but I should speedily distance the professors, and perhaps rival
Humboldt himself. Instead of that I don’t look into a book once a week,
except when I recite; and I don’t see but I get along just as well. If
I don’t know it, I only have to pick out a difficult word or phrase,
and say that it is not clear to me, that I do not quite understand it;
and usually it takes so long to explain it that the time is up. We boys
take turns in this game.”
“And you own to such meanness,” I said, as much excited as at first.
“They’ve no business to allow themselves to be deceived.”
“You neither deceive yourself, nor any one else. Your tutor
understands it, and so does Mr. Harlan; and you know it is not right.”
“‘Right,’ again; of course I do. But I do not see the use. I shall
never talk in Latin, Greek, or Hebrew; then why delve so many years
over them?”
“Mr. Farnham said it was to make us think.”
“Very little good comes of it that I can see,” said Farden putting his
cigar to his mouth; “that problem in equations that you worked on so
long, a precious little good it will do you.”
“Mr. Harlan told us the other day that every obstacle overcome gives us
just so much additional strength; that it is by these stepping-stones
that we attain the desired result.”
“Stepping-stones of obstacles! that is well enough for Mr. Harlan; but
I’ll tell you what, Howe, money is the stepping-stone in this country.
Give me that, and I don’t care a picayune for any thing else.”
“The one that knows most usually succeeds best; knowledge wins money.”
“Pshaw! nonsense! that’s not so. Why, the richest man in this county
can hardly write his name.”
“That may be; he may prove an exception; but that in no wise does away
with the rule.”
“Well, my cigar is out. All I can say is, that we are going to have a
capital time to-night; you had better come along. You wont tell, any
way; Lovell never did: we could always trust him;” and the door closed.
Why was it that I could not study? Why was it that I should strive and
struggle between my inclination to live easily, as Farden did, and my
desire to do right? “No right effort is ever lost,” sounded out strong,
clear, distinct, almost as though some one spoke it aloud; and so
forcibly did it take possession of me, and so much strength sprung up
out of each little word, there was no more murmuring, and my morning’s
lesson did not suffer from the ungovernable feeling of the evening
previous.
A few days after the above conversation Farden came in after his
skates, and Harry Gilmore with him. Tapping me on the shoulder, Harry
said, “Put up that book; you are looking like a scarecrow. Come.”
“Where?” I asked.
“First to the ice, and then,” looking up archly, “where we have no
stupid books, but plenty of fun and frolic. Why not go? What if you do
fail in the next lesson? Some of the boys fail every day.”
“You will never be thought less of,” said Richard Farden. “I do not
look at my translation till I go in to recite. It comes to me just as
I want to say it.”
“It does not come to me without study,” I answered.
“That is because your brains are so knotted up poring over it all the
while,” persisted Harry. “Clear them out occasionally with a good jolly
spree, and you’ll be all right. Come along.”
“What will Mr. Harlan say?”
“Mr. Harlan will never know. He thinks we are all in bed by ten
o’clock.”
“And so we are,” said Richard; “they don’t seem to think we can get up
again.”
“Do what you do well”--I seemed to hear Mr. Kirby’s voice urging me to
do right, while Jennie’s sweetly pleading eyes looked reproachingly.
“No, I will not go,” I said determinedly. “I came here to study, and I
will do it. You know your parents could not approve of your course;
you know Mr. Harlan would not; you know your own conscience does not. I
will not go with you, and I advise you to stay at home yourself.”
“Lovell all over; isn’t it, Harry?” and my room-mate examined his
skates carefully.
“I do wish you would come, Howe;” and he spoke half reproachfully.
“I came here for a purpose, and I shall follow it.”
The door closed with a slam. I crossed the room and leaned my head on
the mantel; school life was so different from what I had expected.
I had supposed that everybody appreciated study, that everybody
longed for an education, and that only opportunity was wanted to make
good scholars. I had learned differently. Nominal students were not
actual learners; neither were those who applied themselves the most
diligently, in all cases the most appreciated. Then I remembered again
Mr. Kirby’s words: “Doing right is the only safe course, and although
slow and wearisome at first, is sure to succeed. Other paths may look
as if they would lead into shaded nooks and flowery dells; but ruin
lurks in secret, and despair has a lodge there. The only safety is
in keeping clear of them, having nothing to do with them; while the
onward road, narrow and rough though it be, will in the end lead to the
desired result.”
[Illustration]
X.
In so large a school as that in Rockdale, of course there were various
cliques, and each clique with its leader. Frank Clavers was at the head
of the Senior class, and round him gathered good scholars and studious
boys; while Richard Farden and Harry Gilmore, by virtue of wealth, good
looks, and an easy, good-natured manner, took the lead in all sports
and amusements; and Robert Lovell was looked up to and followed by all
who had a thought of the future. Few enough there were of these; and to
this clique I had attached myself. Hence the goodness that my room-mate
was constantly reproaching me with, when I refused to join in their
stolen revels.
“I am sure I should be on the ice half the time, if I could skate as
you do,” said Harry Gilmore once as I joined the skaters during recess.
“So should I perhaps, had I nothing else to do,” I answered, skimming
over the smooth surface with all the freedom of a bird on the wing.
“It is a good deal of self-denial for me to stay at home, Harry. I own
there are times when an hour on the ice would please me much better
than sawing wood or making paths through the snow.”
“Why don’t you do it then? we have to beg you ever so long. I had no
idea you could skate so beautifully.”
“I cannot afford the time,” I answered frankly. “I came here to study;
and you know I nearly pay my board with what I can do during the hours
that you have for recreation.”
“And your father don’t give you a cent?”
“My father and mother are both dead, Harry. I have the dearest little
sister in the world; but as for money, I earn all I have with my own
hands.”
“This is why you work and study then,” said he, linking his arm in mine
and flashing across the pond. “It makes me ashamed of myself every time
I hear you refuse to go with Richard; but I didn’t know that--”
“That I was so poor?”
“That your parents were dead, and you trying to educate yourself.”
“How is this?” shouted Richard Farden as soon as he turned the bend and
came to shore--“how is it that you have got Howe on his skates? What
arguments have you used, what inducements held out?”
“Golden ones, I’ll be bound,” shouted Charles Eaton, while the boys
laughed uproariously.
“I have no influence over Marston Howe,” said Harry, calling me by my
first name. “He has an influence over me, however, and I am resolved
each day more and more to follow it.”
“How now? what’s the matter?” cried several voices as we unstrapped our
skates.
I saw by the look of the sun that my time was up, and without another
word I hurried up the hill and across the field to the academy.
Before the study bell rang, Harry Gilmore came to my room. “Have you a
moment to spare, Marston?”
“Yes, a moment for you,” I answered.
“And you will not call it so much lost time?” drawing his chair to the
table, and placing his feet on the fender. “To tell the truth, I am
ashamed of the life I am leading this winter; the deception we practise
is outrageous.”
“You do not deceive any one, Harry. Mr. Harlan may not know all of your
nightly wanderings; but he knows who studies and who does not, and so
do all the teachers.”
“Then why don’t they scold us as we deserve, send us home, or expel us?”
“Perhaps you would not do any better at home. They do all they can,
both by precept and example; and they hope that time and your own good
sense will at length compel you to do better.”
“And I am determined that I will. I have been led by Richard long
enough. I am resolved to study for the rest of the term; and if I do,
will you be my friend?” and he looked at me earnestly.
“You forget how poor I am. I pay my board by waiting on the household.”
“So much the more honor for you. My father was once a poor man. He’s
rich now; worth half a million, I suppose. But that only makes me
think meaner of myself. Only think of the money I spend every week,
flinging it away, and you have none. You say you have a sister; so
have I; and such good letters she writes me, telling me to use my time
profitably, and not to be led away by ease-loving, indolent companions.
I am going to try now, and you must help me.”
His look and tone touched me, and my words leaped out, “As far as I can
I will help you to do right, Harry.”
“I shall be a better boy if you will let me come here sometimes and see
you study. Say that you will, Marston. There goes the bell. Say that I
may come.”
“As often as you like.”
“If my lessons are good to-morrow, you may take the credit of it;” and
the door closed.
Presently Richard came in, flung down his cap and gloves, and hastily
tore the envelope from a letter.
“I declare it’s too bad; not a cent of money. Father has no idea of the
little things that draw upon the purse.”
“It cannot be that you have used the last he sent,” I exclaimed, seeing
his look of distress.
“Yes, but I have though, and had to borrow besides. You see every thing
is so high; our suppers have cost enormously; and now the lectures are
coming on, and I have not a dime.”
“I have several tickets; that need not trouble you.”
“The lectures would be dull enough if it was not for something
afterwards: and the sleigh-rides; I’ve promised ever so many I’d treat
them to a ride. It’s just the time now; and the old fellow don’t seem
to appreciate it at all.”
“He appreciates study more, perhaps.”
“I know it, Howe, as well as you do. I don’t study. I feel ashamed of
it, and still I cannot do better. I mean to in the spring. I’ll turn
over a new leaf, as Gilmore says.”
“Why not begin now?” I ventured to ask.
“Because I can’t; I’ve got out of the way of study, and to go back
is not so readily done. I would not have father know how I spend
my time; and my sister is always writing me to make good use of my
opportunities. Poor mother, I am all the boy she has got, and I know
how anxious she is about me. I don’t mean to be wild, but I’m afraid
that I am.”
The last words, mournfully spoken, touched my heart. Besides, the idea
of his trifling with a mother’s love moved me to speak.
“Why not try now to do what you feel to be right? You might easily be
the first in your class.”
“I meant to be when I came here; but when I saw how some of the others
managed, by degrees I fell into the same ways.”
“It is not too late to commence. Mr. Harlan told us that when we become
conscious of an error, we should turn from it immediately. It is easy
for us to do wrong; and to turn as soon as we become conscious of it,
is the only true wisdom.”
“I don’t believe I can here; the boys all know me, and they will expect
me to do just as I have done.”
A little tap at the door. Charles Eaton entered, and conversation took
a more general tone.
A few evenings after this, in passing out of the supper-room, Mrs.
Harlan handed me several papers, magazines, etc. Looking them over,
I found a notice of the death of Charles Brisbane, my first teacher.
My eyes grew dim as I gazed upon the record, which spoke of early
promise, rare graces of mind, and the deep religious element underlying
a character devoted to the elevation of the human race. I cannot
describe the effect produced by the perusal of that short obituary.
Mr. Brisbane’s words had roused me to action, and taught me my duty
to myself and to my Maker; but his death gave to his well-remembered
utterances all the force and power of a voice from heaven. Thenceforth
I cherished his image still more, as one of my choicest treasures;
and the desire of my heart was deepened to acquire knowledge and
discipline, and to be, like him, a good and useful man.
And still, with all my resolves, I was conscious I failed in the most
important, point. Did I love the Saviour as he did? Did I as closely
follow Him?
Winter passed, and spring blossomed into beauty. Robert Lovell was
again with us. There was more study; examination was coming, and all
were anxious to make a good appearance. My room-mate was more studious,
and Harry Gilmore was trying to redeem time. Out of school my time
was taken up with gardening; and much pleasanter it was than making
paths in the ice and snow. True, I had never done any thing of this
before; but although a little awkward at first, it soon came easy.
Besides, it brought me in continual contact with Mr. and Mrs. Harlan;
and their remarks were not only pleasant, but profitable. In the room
of feeling despondent, as I had now and then done during the winter, I
was cheerful and happy; and without enjoying my books the less, I did
enjoy my labors more.