_FAITH._
"Nursey," said Bessie, the next morning, as nurse was putting on her
shoes and stockings, after giving her her bath, "I can't think how it
is."
"How what is, dear?"
"About the Trinity."
"Well!" said nurse. "The Trinity! and what put that into your head?"
"It's not in my head," said Bessie; "I can't get it there. I try and
try to think how it can be, and I can't. Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
three Persons and one God," she repeated, slowly; "how can it be,
nursey? I know the Father means our Father in heaven, and the Son means
Jesus, and the Holy Ghost means Heavenly Spirit; but there's only one
God, and I don't understand."
"And wiser heads than yours can't understand it, my lamb," said
nurse; "don't bother your little brains about that. It's just one
of those things we must take upon faith; we must believe it without
understanding it. Don't you think about it any more till you are older."
But Bessie did think about it; and her thoughtful little face looked
more grave and earnest than usual all that day. Mamma wondered what she
was considering, but said nothing, for she was sure that Bessie would
soon come to her if she was in any difficulty.
"What are you thinking about, Bessie?" asked the colonel that
afternoon, when she was in his room. He was much better, and was
sitting up in his easy-chair.
"What is faith?" asked Bessie, answering his question by another, and
turning her great serious, brown eyes on his face. The colonel looked
surprised.
"Faith?" he said. "Why, to have faith in a person is to believe in him
and trust in him."
Bessie did not look satisfied.
"When you first went in bathing," said the colonel, "did you not feel
afraid?"
"No, sir," answered Bessie.
"Why not? Did you not fear that those great waves would wash you away
and drown you?"
"No, sir; before I went in, I thought I would be very 'fraid; but papa
said he would carry me in his arms, and wouldn't let me be drownded."
"And did you believe him?"
"Why, yes," answered Bessie, opening her eyes very wide at this
question; "my father don't tell stories."
"And you were not afraid when he carried you in his arms?"
"No, sir."
"That was faith,--faith in your father. You believed what he told you,
and trusted in his care."
Bessie still looked puzzled.
"Well," said the colonel, "don't you understand yet?"
"I don't know how it is about things," said the little girl.
"What things?"
"Things that I don't know how they can be."
"Do you mean, Bessie," said Mrs. Rush, "that you do not know how to
have faith in what you do not understand?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"See here, little old head on young shoulders," said the colonel,
drawing Bessie closer to him, and seeming much amused, "when I told you
that this box would make sweet music, did you believe me?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did you understand how it could?"
"No, sir."
"Do you know what this paper-knife is made of?"
"No, sir."
"It is made of the shell of a fish; do you believe it?"
"Why, yes," answered Bessie.
"But you did not see it made; how can you believe it?"
"'Cause you tell me so."
"Well, then, that is faith; you believe what I say, even when you
cannot understand how it is, because you trust me, or have faith in me,
for you know I never tell you anything that is not true. If I sometimes
told you what is false, you could not have faith in me; could you?"
"No," said the little girl, "but you never would tell me _falses_."
"Indeed, I would not, my pet," he said, smiling, and twisting one of
her curls over his finger.
She stood for a few minutes, as if thinking over what he had told her,
and then, her whole face lighting up, she said, "Oh, yes, I know now! I
believe what papa tells me when he says he'll take care of me, 'cause
he always tells me true, and I know he can do it; and that's faith; and
I believe what you tell me, 'cause you tell me true; and that's faith;
and we believe what God tells us, even if we can't understand how it
can be, 'cause he tells us what is true; and that's faith. Now I know
what nursey meant."
"What did nurse say, dear?" asked Mrs. Rush.
"She said we must have faith about three Persons in one God, and
believe what we could not understand; but I think I do understand about
that too. I thinked about it when I was sitting on the yocks this
morning, and I am going to ask mamma if it is yight."
"And what do you think about it, Bessie?"
"Why," said Bessie, holding up her little finger, "don't you know
I have a silver three cent piece? Well, there's three pennies in
it--mamma said so,--but it's only one piece of money, and I suppose
it's somehow that way about three Persons in one God,--Father, Son, and
Holy Ghost,--three Persons in one God."[A]
If the colonel had looked surprised before, he looked still more so
now, while Mrs. Rush laid down her work and gazed at the child.
"Who told you that, Bessie?" she asked.
"Oh, nobody," said Bessie, innocently; "I just thinked it; maybe it is
not yight. I couldn't ask mamma about it all day, 'cause she was busy,
or some one came to see her; and I don't like to ask her things when
somebody is there."
Mrs. Rush looked out of the window by which she sat, and seemed to be
watching the sea; and Bessie stood, softly patting the colonel's knee
with her hand, while for a moment or two no one spoke. Suddenly Bessie
looked up in the colonel's face.
"Colonel Yush," she said, "don't you have a great deal of faith?"
"In some people, Bessie," he answered. "I have a great deal of faith in
my little wife, and a great deal in my pet Bessie, and some few others."
"Oh, I mean in our Father," she said. "I should think you'd have more
faith than 'most anybody, 'cause he took such good care of you in the
battles."
"What?" said the colonel, "when my leg was shot off?"
Bessie did not know whether he was in earnest or not, but she did not
think it was a thing to joke about, and he did not look very well
pleased, though he laughed a little when he spoke.
"Oh, don't make fun about it," she said, "I don't think He would like
it. He could have let you be killed if He chose, but He didn't; and
then He took such care of you all that night, and let your men come
and find you. Don't you think He did it 'cause He wanted you to love
Him more than you did before? Oh, I know you must have a great deal of
faith! Didn't you keep thinking of Jesus all that night, and how he
died for you so his Father could forgive your sins, and take you to
heaven if you died?"
"I was very thankful when I heard my men coming, Bessie; but I was too
weak to think much," said the colonel. "Come, let us wind the box and
have some music; hand me that key."
"But you think a great deal about it when you don't feel so bad; don't
you?" persisted the child, as she gave him the key of the musical box.
"Pshaw!" said the colonel, throwing it down again on the table; "what
absurdity it is to fill a child's head--"
"Horace!" said Mrs. Rush, in a quick, startled voice.
The colonel stopped short, then taking up the paper-cutter, began
tapping the table in a very impatient manner. "I am sick of the whole
thing," he said; "there seems to be no end to it. Wife, sister, and
friend, from the parson to the baby, every one has something to say on
the same subject. I tell you I will have no more of it from any one.
I should have supposed I would have been safe there. And my own words
turned into a handle against me too." And he looked at Bessie, who
had drawn a little away from him and stood gazing at him with fear and
wonder in her large eyes. She had never seen him angry before, and she
could not think what had made him so now.
"Am I naughty?" she asked.
"No, darling," said Mrs. Rush, holding out her hand.
Bessie ran over to her. Mrs. Rush lifted her up in her lap.
"Did I talk too much?" asked Bessie. "I did not mean to tease him."
"See that steamship coming in, Bessie," said Mrs. Rush, in a voice that
shook a little. "I think it must be the 'Africa,' which is to bring
Gracie Howard's father. Will she not be glad to see him?"
"Yes," said Bessie; but she did not look at the steamer, but watched
the colonel, who still seemed vexed, and kept up his tattoo with the
paper-cutter.
Nobody spoke again for a few moments, and Bessie grew more and more
uncomfortable. Presently she gave a long sigh, and leaned her cheek on
her hand.
"Are you tired, dear?" asked Mrs. Rush.
"No," said Bessie, "but I'm so uncomf'able. I think I had yather go to
mamma in grandmamma's yoom."
Mrs. Rush put her down, and was leading her away, but when they reached
the door, Bessie drew her hand from hers and ran back to the colonel.
"I am sorry I teased you," she said. "I didn't know you didn't like
people to talk about that night; I'll never do it any more again."
The colonel threw down the paper-cutter, and catching her in his arms,
kissed her heartily two or three times. "You do not tease me, my pet,"
he said; "you did not know how cross your old soldier could be; did
you?"
"You was not so very cross," she said, patting his cheek lovingly with
her little hand. "Sick, lame people can't be patient all the time, and
I do talk too much sometimes; mamma says I do. Next time I come, I'll
be so quiet." Then she ran back to Mrs. Rush, who took her to her
grandmamma's room and left her at the door.
Bessie went to mamma, and tried to climb upon her lap. Mrs. Bradford
lifted her up, but she was talking to her mother, and did not notice
her little girl's troubled face till Mrs. Stanton signed to her to look
at Bessie. Then she asked, "What is it, dearest?"
"I don't know, mamma," said Bessie.
"Has something troubled you?" asked mamma.
"Yes," said Bessie; "I teased the colonel."
"Oh!" said Maggie, "did you slam the door?"
"No, I talked about what he didn't like," said Bessie, with a quivering
lip; "I talked about that night, and it teased him. I didn't know he
didn't like to hear about it, mamma. I s'pose it's because he suffered
so much he don't like to think of it."
Mamma had no need to ask what night she meant; ever since Bessie
had heard of the terrible night when the colonel had lain upon the
battle-field, faint and almost dying from his dreadful wounds, thinking
that he should never see his home and friends again, the story had
seemed to be constantly in her mind; and she spoke of it so often that
her mother knew quite well what she meant. "What did you say about it,
dear?" she asked.
Bessie could not remember all, but she told enough to let her mother
see what had displeased the colonel. But Mrs. Bradford did not tell her
little girl, for she knew it would distress her very much to know that
the brave soldier of whom she was so fond did not like to be reminded,
even by a little child, of his debts and duty to the merciful Father
who had kept him through so many dangers and who had sent his dear Son
to die for him.