"For ever and ever."
AGAIN nearly ten years have passed, and for the last time we revisit
E—, now a thriving, populous town. Where is the little shop with its
wooden gate, where Viner so long passed his humble but useful life, and
bore the yoke of poverty so meekly? We now look in vain for the spot
where it stood—like other earthly things, it has passed away, another
building now occupies what was once its site, its place remembers it no
more.
But the large shop on the opposite side of the street is standing
yet, and looks more flourishing than ever, with its baskets of ripe
plums and tempting peaches, decked out with branches of cut flowers in
the windows. A young woman is within, engaged in tying up nosegays,
herself fresh and blooming as the flowers. Her own little blossom, her
first-born child, is perched upon the counter beside her; and often the
mother stops in her pleasant employment to imprint a fond kiss on his
dimpled cheek, or bid her little one try to call "Father!"
"Ah! Darling, you must not spoil the pretty flowers," she said
playfully, as the child seized upon a rose. "Do you not know that
this is mother's wedding-day, and when father comes in, he must find
everything looking bright and beautiful for him! I must give you over
to grandfather's care—if he will look after my troublesome pet! There,
is he not a darling—are you not proud of him!" cried Nelly, as she
placed her blooming boy in the arms of Viner.
Mrs. Winter at this moment entered the shop. She had grown old, and
now wore widow's weeds, but her face was still placid and cheerful as
before.
"I have brought you the cake, Nelly," said she, laying an elegant
sugared pyramid before her. "Is it not fit for a wedding-day feast? Do
you remember just this day twenty years ago, when you were no higher
than this counter, your coming to my shop to buy half-a-dozen biscuits
as a treat for your expected new brother? Ah! He is more to you now
than he was then!"
"How can I remember so far back!" laughed Nelly.
"It seems to me as though it were scarce a day since! There stood
Goldie—poor man! Who once owned this shop—a prosperous man he was then!
He laughed, I remember, at your childish honesty, laughed at your
father's kind adoption of Walter—he thought only of getting on in the
world! And what has it all come to at last! There is now another name
above his door, there is another face behind his counter—he lies in the
churchyard beside his poor wife, and his very name is almost forgotten!
And this is the end of his labours and his cares, his rising up early
and late taking rest—his flattering, and toiling, and unscrupulous
ways! All that is left to him now of his gains is a coffin, and a
shroud, and a few feet of earth!"
"Alas! Poor Goldie," said Nelly sadly, "He was unfortunate!"
"Unhappy, if you will, but not unfortunate; fortune had nothing to do
with either his lot or your father's. Worldliness, Sabbath-breaking,
neglect of religion only brought forth their natural fruits to
Goldie—while all Viner's present happiness and prosperity arose from—"
The old man turned towards her with glistening eyes, pressing his
little grandchild closer to his heart, while he closed her sentence
with Nelly's favourite text—"'The blessing of the Lord, it maketh rich,
and He addeth no sorrow thereto.'"
Walter now entered with a springing step and bright eye. His child
stretched out his little arms to go to him, and Nelly greeted her
husband with a smile.
"You see that I have not forgotten what day it is," he said, laying
down on the counter a beautifully carved box, with his wife's name
cut on the lid. "That is my wedding present for you, dear Nelly; as
it has pleased God to prosper us so well in business, and between my
carving and your fruit selling, we now have enough and to spare, I have
resolved to keep a poor box from this time, and on the first day of the
week, as St. Paul recommends, lay aside of our earnings for the needy."
"Well, Viner," observed Mrs. Winter, as she was leaving the place, and
turned to bid farewell to the aged Christian, on whose silvery hair
and venerable brow the rich glow of the setting sun was falling, "if
I were asked to name a truly happy man, I should not have far to look
for one—I should point to you in your arm-chair there, with your loving
family around you."
Yes, the bright calm sunset was a beautiful type of the old age of
the pious Christian! He looked back on an honest, well-spent life,
he looked forwards to a better life to come; the present was full of
richest blessings, but the richest of all was the hope of heaven that
brightened the thoughts of the future! His adopted son was now his son
indeed; his daughter was happy in the love of one whom he himself had
trained to industry and piety; and now, honoured and beloved, he was
drawing towards his home, at peace with his God, and at peace with
mankind—his hoary head a crown of righteousness!
But think not that upon his faith or his good works Viner rested his
hope of glory! He would have shrunk from the thought as much as the
poor convict who now slumbered beneath the shadow of the church, with a
single text inscribed on his tomb—"The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth
from all sin!"
And now, young reader, before you close these pages, pause and consider
what was the difference between Viner and Goldie, between the man of
the world and the servant of God. As Mrs. Winter had observed, it was
no strange chance, no wonderful turn of fortune, that gave happiness to
the one or misery to the other. Review their story, and you will see
that exactly as they sowed, they reaped—that the portion which each
chose, he received—that blessings naturally sprang from the conduct of
the one, disappointment from the acts of the other.
And oh! If even in this world, God's children are the happiest, what
will it be in the world which is to come! On this earth our harvest
is only begun, whether of holy joy or the sorrows of sin. But when
ages upon ages have rolled on, when the heavens and the earth have
passed away, then still the unrepenting will be suffering, the faithful
enjoying in eternity!
From this hour resolve which path you will choose—life or death are now
set before you. If you choose the world and its pleasures of a season,
oh! Remember that the wages of sin is death. Youth must pass, strength
must pass, life itself must pass away, with all that it could give here
below; but the Christian shall dwell in the mansions of light—shall
rejoice in unchangeable bliss with his God—
"FOR EVER AND EVER. AMEN!"
[Illustration]
[Illustration: THE LORD'S PRAYER.]
Our Father in heaven,
We hallow Thy name,
May Thy kingdom holy
On earth be the same;
Oh! Give to us daily
Our portion of bread;
It is from Thy bounty
That all must be fed.
Forgive our transgression,
And teach us to know
That humble compassion
Which pardons each foe.
Keep us from temptation,
From weakness, and sin;
And Thine be the glory,
For ever, Amen.