ANXIETY OF THE TRAPPER ABOUT HIS SON--JEANIE TELLS LAURENCE ABOUT THE
BIBLE AND GOD'S LOVE TO MAN--LAURENCE OUT OF DANGER--THE TRAPPER LEAVES
LAURENCE WITH HIS FRIENDS--JEANIE TRIES TO TEACH LAURENCE TO READ--
HISTORY OF MRS. RAMSAY.
The following morning, the old trapper was sitting on the floor, where
he had passed the night, with his head bent down on his knees, when Mrs
Ramsay came out of his son's room.
"Is he better? Will he live?" he asked in a low, husky voice, gazing up
anxiously at her countenance.
"The issues of life and death are in God's hands," she answered. "Your
young son is very ill; but our merciful Father in heaven can restore him
if He thinks fit; we can but watch over him, and minister to his wants
as may seem best to us. Lift up your heart in prayer to that Great
Being through Him who died for us, sinning children as we are that we
might be reconciled to our loving Parent, and He will assuredly hear
your petition, and grant it if He thinks fit."
The old man groaned as she ceased speaking, and again dropping his head
on his breast made no reply to her, though he muttered to himself, "She
tells me to pray. The Great Spirit would strike me dead in his anger
were I to dare to speak to Him." The kind lady, seeing he did not
speak, passed on.
Old Michael could with difficulty be persuaded to eat anything, or to
quit his post during the day. Little Jeanie was at length sent to him
with some food, to try if he would receive it at her hands.
"Here," she said, placing her hand on his arm. "You must take some of
this, or you will become weak and ill. God, you know, gives us food to
support our bodies, just as He sends His holy spirit to strengthen our
souls. It is very wrong not to eat when we require food, and so it is
when we refuse to receive the aid of the Holy Spirit, which we so much
need every moment of our lives."
"Who told you that, little damsel?" asked the old man, looking up in the
child's sweet face.
"Mamma, of course," she answered. "And Mr Martin, the missionary, who
came here some time ago, says she is right, and told me never to forget
what she says to me. I try not to do so; but when I am playing about,
and sometimes when I feel inclined to be naughty, I am apt not to
remember as I ought; and then I ask God to help me and to forgive me,
through Jesus Christ, and all those things come back again to my
memory."
"You naughty!" said the old man, gazing still more intently at the young
fair countenance. "I don't think you ever could be naughty."
"Oh yes, yes, I am, though," answered the child. "I feel sometimes
vexed and put out, and so do all sorts of naughty things; besides, you
know that God says, `there is none that doeth good, no, not one;' and
even if I did not think I was naughty, I know that I must be in His
sight, for He is so pure and holy that even to Him the heavens, so
bright to us, are not pure."
The old man apparently did not understand what the child was saying to
him, but the sound of her soft voice soothed his troubled heart. She
little knew how dark and hard that heart had become.
"What is it you want, little damsel?" he asked, in a tone as if he had
been lost in thought while she was speaking.
"I came to bring you this food," she said. "I shall be so glad to see
you eat some."
The old man, without further remonstrance, almost mechanically, it
seemed, consumed the food she offered him.
For several days Laurence hung between life and death, but the constant
and watchful care of his new friends was blessed with success; and once
more he opened his eyes, and was able to understand and reply to what
was said to him. As soon as he was considered out of danger, old
Michael regained his usual manner. Though he expressed his gratitude to
his hosts in his rough, blunt way, he uttered no expression which showed
that he believed that aught of thanks were due to the Giver of all good
for his son's recovery. With his ordinary firm tread he stalked into
the room where Laurence lay.
"I am glad to see thee coming round, boy," he said. "Food and quiet is
all that is now required to fit thee for work again. Dost not long to
be once more wandering through the forest, or trapping by the side of
the broad stream? I am already weary, as I knew I should, of this dull
life, and must away to look after our traps and such of our peltries as
may have escaped the claws of the cunning wolverines."
"Stay for me but a few days, and I shall be ready to go with you,
father," said the boy, trying to raise himself up.
"Nay, nay, boy; but you're not yet strong enough for travelling. The
snow lies thickly on the ground, and the winter's wind whistles keenly
through the forest and across the plain. Stay a while with your good
friends here, and I'll come back for thee, and then we will hie away to
lead the free life we have enjoyed so long." Old Michael spoke in a
more subdued tone than usual.
"You speak truth, father, when you say our friends are kind; if it were
not for you I should not wish to leave them. Sometimes, when Mrs
Ramsay and her little daughter have been tending me, my thoughts have
been carried back to the days when I was a young child, or else to some
pleasant dreams which have visited me in my sleep."
"Speak not again of those times, Laurence," exclaimed the old trapper in
an angry tone. "They are mere foolish fancies of the brain. You are
still weak and ill, but you will soon recover," he added in a more
gentle voice. "And when I come for you, promise me that you will be
ready to go forth once more to be my companion in the free wilds."
"Yes, father, yes; I promise, whenever you come and summon me away, I
will go with you."
"Farewell, then, boy," said the old trapper, taking his son's hand. "We
will look forward to the time when we may enjoy our free roving life
together again."
On the entrance of Mrs Ramsay and Jeanie, who came with some nourishing
food for Laurence, the old trapper silently left the room. When, a
short time afterwards, Mrs Ramsay inquired for him, she found that he
had quitted the fort, leaving behind him his bales of peltries, with the
exception of the white wolf-skin.
"He has taken it to trade with the Indians," observed the factor. "He
knows that they value it more than we do."
"I am so sorry that your father has gone away, Laurence," said Jeanie,
as she sat by the bedside of the young invalid, trying to console him
for the grief he showed when he heard of the old trapper's departure.
"But remember you are among friends, and we will do all we can to make
you happy. Still, it is a great thing to know that your father loves
you. I should be miserable if I could suppose that my father and mother
did not love me. But do you know, Laurence, I have often thought how
much more wretched I should feel if I did not know that our Heavenly
Father loves me also even more than they do. Mamma has often told me
that His love is so great that we cannot understand it. It always makes
me feel so happy when I think of it, and that He is always watching over
us, and that His eye is ever upon us."
"Do you speak of the Great Spirit, little girl?" said Laurence, raising
himself on his elbow, and gazing inquiringly at her. "I have heard that
He is the Friend of brave warriors and those who obey Him, and that He
is more powerful than any human being; but still I cannot fancy that He
cares for young boys and girls, and women and slaves, or cowards who are
afraid to fight."
"Oh, yes, yes; He cares for everybody," exclaimed Jeanie. "He loves all
the creatures He has made, to whom He has given souls which will live
for ever and ever. He wants them all to live with Him in the glorious
heaven He has prepared for all who accept the gracious offer of mercy
which He makes to us. You know that we are by nature rebels and
disobedient children; and consequently Satan, the great rebel chief, has
power to do evil, and to tempt us to sin, and to rebel against God, as
he tempted our first parents; but God sent His Son Jesus Christ into the
world, to suffer the punishment which, for our disobedience and sin, we
ought to suffer, and to tell us that, if we trust Him and believe that
He has so suffered for our sins, and thus taken them away, and will love
and obey Him, and follow the laws which He established, we shall be
received back again into favour, and when our souls quit this world,
that they will go and dwell with Him in that glorious and happy land
where He will reign for ever and ever."
Laurence continued his fixed gaze at the young girl as she spoke.
"These are very wonderful words you speak. They are so wonderful that I
cannot understand them," said Laurence very slowly.
"What I speak of is indeed very wonderful, for even the angels in heaven
wonder at it; but if you seek the aid of the Holy Spirit, He will make
it clear to your mind, for He it is who alone can teach us what Christ
is, and what He has done for us. My mamma often told me about these
things, and I did not understand them; but when I prayed that the Holy
Spirit would help me to know the love of Jesus, and all He has done for
me, then what appeared so dark and mysterious became as clear as the
noonday; and, oh, I am sure that there is no joy so great as that of
knowing that Jesus Christ loves us."
"I don't think I shall ever understand that," said the boy, sinking back
on his couch. "My father has never told me anything about those things
and I am sure He is very, very wise, for the Indians say so; and every
one owns that he is the best white trapper between the Rocky Mountains
and the Red River. When he comes back, I'll talk to him, and learn what
he thinks of the matter."
"Oh, but God tells us that He has `hid these things from the wise and
prudent, and revealed them unto babes,'" observed Jeanie. "Your father
is all you say, I am sure; but does he read the Bible, the book which
God has given to us, to tell us about Jesus, and to let us know His
will?"
"I never heard of such a book," answered the boy. "But then I know
nothing about books; I could not understand its meaning if I had one."
"What! cannot you read?" asked the little girl, in a tone of
astonishment.
"No, of course not," answered Laurence. "The only books I have seen are
those in the hands of the white traders, when they have been taking
notes of the peltries they have bought from us or our Indian friends.
Then I have observed that they make marks with the end of a stick in
their books, and that is all I know about the matter."
"Oh, then, I must show you some books, and you must learn to read. It
is a sad thing not to be able to read the Bible."
"I have no wish to learn, though you are very kind to offer to teach
me," answered the boy, in a somewhat weary tone. "When I am well
enough, I should like to be following my father, or chasing the buffalo
with the brave hunters of the prairie. Still, I should be sorry to go
away from you and those who have been so kind to me."
"But it will be a long time before you are able to sit on horseback, or
to endure the wild camp-life of a hunter, and until that time comes you
must let me teach you."
"My head would ache if I were to try to learn anything so strange as
reading," said Laurence, closing his eyes. "Even now I cannot bear to
think. But you are very kind, very kind," he added, as if he felt the
little girl would consider him ungrateful for refusing her offer.
Mrs Ramsay, who had just then come in unperceived, had heard the last
part of the conversation, and understanding better than her daughter did
the boy's still weak state, saw that it was not the time to press the
point, and that it would be better just then to allow Laurence to fall
asleep, as she judged from his heavy eyes he was inclined to do. She,
therefore, smoothing his pillow, and bestowing a smile on him, led
Jeanie from the room.
Mrs Ramsay had gone through many trials. She had been brought up among
all the refinements of civilised society in Scotland, and had been early
brought by her pious parents to know and love the Lord Jesus. She had
married Mr Ramsay, then employed in the service of the Hudson's Bay
Company, dining a short visit he paid to his native land; but she had
been little aware of the dangers and hardships she would be called on to
endure in the wild region to which he was to take her. He had been so
accustomed to them from his earliest days that, when describing the life
he had led, he unconsciously made light of what might otherwise
naturally have appalled her. For his sake she forbore from complaining
of the perils and privations to which she had been exposed; and she had
ever, by trusting to the aid and protection of God, borne up under them
all. Two of her children had been taken from her, and Jeanie alone had
been left. Famine, and the small-pox and measles, which has proved so
fatal to the inhabitants of those northern wilds, had on several
occasions visited the fort, which had also been exposed to the attacks
of treacherous and hostile natives; while for years together she had not
enjoyed the society of any of her own sex of like cultivated mind and
taste. Yet she did not repine; she devoted herself to her husband and
child, and to imparting instruction to the native women and children who
inhabited the fort. She went further, and endeavoured to spread the
blessings of religion and civilisation among the surrounding Indian
population. By her influence her husband had been induced to take an
interest in the welfare of the Indians, and no longer merely to value
them according to the supply of peltries they could bring to trade with
at the fort. He endeavoured also to instruct them in the art of
agriculture, and already a number of cultivated fields were to be seen
in the neighbourhood. He had introduced herds of cattle, which the
Indians had been taught to tend and value, and numerous horses fed on
the surrounding pastures. His great object now was to obtain a resident
missionary, who might instruct the still heathen natives in the truths
of Christianity; for when he had learned to value the importance of his
own soul, he of necessity felt deeply interested in the salvation of the
souls of his surrounding fellow-creatures. He had been warned that,
should the natives become Christians and civilised, they would no longer
prove useful as hunters and trappers, and that he was acting in
opposition to trade.
"When that occurs it will be time enough, if you think fit, to complain,
my friends," he answered. "At present I see innumerable immortal souls
perishing in their darkness; and am I to be debarred, for fear of future
consequences, in offering to them the blessings of the gospel?"
Most of those to whom he spoke were unable to comprehend him, but he
persevered; and as the native trappers, certain of being fairly dealt
with, resorted in greater numbers than before to the fort, and the
amount of peltries he collected not falling off, no objection was taken
at headquarters to his proceedings.