_THE DREAM._
THE hymn was over, and Paul sat down, but not to listen to a word of
the sermon. Good and holy words were spoken, which touched most of the
hearers' hearts, but they never reached the heart of Paul. The boy fell
fast asleep in his dark corner of the church, and there he remained
fast asleep till long after the sermon had been ended, and the blessing
had been given by the preacher.
Paul not only slept, but he dreamed—a strange and wondrous dream. The
place in which he was seemed to widen, the roof to rise, till instead
of a ceiling above him were clouds of glory, and beneath him a pavement
of gold. There was music, but far sweeter, and more joyful than what
Paul had heard in church. Instead of mortal men and women, shining,
happy beings were around the dreamer, with starry crowns and waving
wings, that glittered like jewels in the glorious light.
But though all that Paul saw in his dream was beauty and gladness, he
could not delight in the beauty, he could not share in the joy. Paul's
heart felt nothing but dread. He did not belong to the happy band; he
could not join in their song; he feared lest one of the shining ones
should notice that he was there. Paul would fain have hidden himself,
but had no place wherein to hide. Terror seized him when one of the
beautiful angels drew near, and said, "What dost thou here?"
Paul was dumb, and could not reply. The proud tongue which had so often
repeated holy words without fear had lost all power to utter one now.
Then Paul seemed to hear the sentence, "Thrust him forth into outer
darkness!" And the start of terror which he gave awakened the boy from
his dream.
Paul found himself indeed in darkness. The lights in the church had
all been put out; the worshippers had gone to their homes; no one had
noticed the sleeping boy, and he had been locked into the church.
Paul's first feeling was that of great surprise at finding the church
so still and so dark; his next was that of alarm. He groped his way to
the outer door. How still and dark the place seemed as he moved down
the aisle! And, oh, how terribly cold! The clock struck nine just as
Paul reached the great door. It was locked. Paul shook it, and shook
it again, but had no power to force it open. He called as loudly as he
could, but the church stood in the middle of a large churchyard, no
house was near, and no one heard the boy's voice.
"Some one will search for me, oh, surely some one will search!" cried
Paul.
He thought of his loving grandparents, who, old and feeble as they
were, would be sure to brave the piercing cold if they know that their
boy was in danger. But then another thought startled Paul. "Grandfather
will think that I am at my uncle's; he will fancy me seated at his
table beside a blazing fire."
The contrast between his uncle's pleasant home, with its supper and
cheerful blaze, made his present dreary position seem worse than ever
to the hungry lad. But Paul tried to keep up his courage and warm his
chilled frame by walking up and down the part of the church which was
nearest to the door, stamping his feet and swinging his arms to keep
out the cold.
Ten o'clock struck. Paul counted each stroke on the bell. How loud and
solemn was the sound!
"Only ten!" muttered Paul. "I shall have to wait twelve whole hours
before this church is opened to prepare for New Year's service! The New
Year!" he repeated. "Oh! In how wretched a way I shall begin the New
Year! I'll go to sleep in one of the pews, and so try to get over the
time. The night grows colder and colder."
Paul did snatch a short sleep, but awoke quite cramped and chilled, and
with shoots of rheumatic pain, which frightened him more than anything
else. It was one of the bitterest nights that had ever been known in
England. The boy dared not sleep again lest he should bring back his
dreadful rheumatic fever.
When eleven o'clock struck, Paul's courage quite gave way. His limbs
were trembling, his teeth were chattering, his blood seemed turning to
ice. He remembered that his grandfather had read in the papers the day
before that four persons had been found frozen to death.
"What if I should die before morning!" thought Paul, and it was a
terrible thought. "I am not fit to die, I am not fit to go to the
beautiful place of which I was dreaming. Hark! What is that tinkling
sound which I faintly hear? The bells of St. John's Church are ringing
for the midnight service; James Barton will be hastening now to that
church to pray in the New Year. Oh, that I could pray too!" It was the
first time that such a wish had come into the mind of Paul. He had
attended church service hundreds of times, but he had never really
prayed in his life.
"I can't pray, I can think of no words," groaned the poor boy, as he
swayed his body to and fro; for he was afraid to remain quite still,
and yet was almost too stiff and cold to move about freely. "Perhaps
that hymn may serve as a prayer; I'll try a verse; it may help me to
forget for a few minutes the misery that I am in."
In a very different way from that in which he had sung a few hours
before, Paul, with trembling voice, attempted to sing—
"'Then, oh! my Lord, prepare
My soul for that great day.'"
Paul felt that for him the great day might be near. He no longer felt
sure of "fifty or sixty years" of life. He knew now that he had need of
comfort, of help, of forgiveness. Paul clasped his numbed hands, and
tears came into his eyes as he sang the words of entreaty—
"'Oh! wash me in Thy precious blood,
And take my sins away.'"
But how much better was Paul's feeble prayer for mercy, than his late
bold, careless singing of words so solemn and holy!
Twelve o'clock struck. The New Year had come! Some in London were
praying, many were sleeping, not a few, alas! were drinking in the
Now Year. Again Paul tried to get warmth by walking about, but the
frost was becoming more intense as the night advanced. The moon had
now risen, and dimly shone through the frosted windows. Paul could
distinguish some objects near him, such as the reading-desk, on which
lay the large Bible, that Bible which had been read so often in his
hearing, but to which he had never cared to listen.
"If I live through this dreadful night, I will try to be a very
different boy to what I have been," thought Paul Harley. "I will try to
be more dutiful to my old grandparents; they have had little comfort in
me. What would not I give now to be more like James, whom I despised
for being so pious! There is no danger of his being driven into outer
darkness. The angels will welcome him, for he loves the Lord whom they
love."
The weary, weary minutes stole on. It was now nearly one o'clock.
Drowsiness was creeping over Paul, but he knew the danger of sleeping
when the cold is intense; if he slept now, he might never waken again,
or waken in torture.
"I can only keep myself awake by singing," thought Paul. "I will sing
that hymn over again, and try to think of the words, and to make them
indeed a New Year's prayer."
Paul sang, and this time loudly, for he was calling on God from the
heart, and so threw his whole soul into the hymn.
"Who is singing there—at this hour?" cried a voice from outside.
Paul sprang to his feet with almost a cry of delight.
"I'm Paul Harley—I'm locked in—I'm almost frozen!" he shouted with the
utmost strength of his voice.
"Paul Harley!" echoed the speaker without.
"Oh! Run, run—quick as light—and get the key of the church!" cried Paul.
"Trust James Barton for that!" cried the voice, and off rushed the
speaker at full speed.
Yes, it was James, who, returning from the church where he had prayed
in the New Year, had taken his homeward way through the churchyard of
that in which poor Paul was looked up. It was not James' shortest way
home, but he had chosen it because St. Mary's church and churchyard
would look, he thought, so beautiful in the moonlight, robed in their
winter mantle of snow. James had been not a little surprised to hear
the sound of Paul's hymn in a spot so lonely and quiet. But for that
sound, James would have passed the church without suspecting that any
one was shivering and starving within it.
I have not space to describe how James ran, as if for his life, to the
house of the clerk of St. Mary's, and rang so furiously at the bell,
that the poor man, his wife, and all his family, thought that the place
was on fire. It is enough to say that James was trusted with the church
key, for his character was known to the clerk, and back he hastened to
the church. The big key was turned in the lock, the heavy door swung
back on its hinges, the imprisoned Paul was set free; and with what a
hearty grasp of the hand did he thank his kind deliverer!
"Come to our home for the rest of the night," said James; "mother will
bid you heartily welcome, I'm sure of that. She is sitting up to give
me my hot supper on my return from church, and I need not say how glad
I shall be for you to share it."
Very thankfully was the invitation accepted. Paul felt as if new life
were poured into his frozen veins when he sat by a glowing fire, and
drank hot steaming soup. Before he went to rest, he had confessed
to James the wrong he had done him by spoiling his ship, and asked
forgiveness for that and other acts of unkindness.
"Let bygones be bygones," said James, smiling; "this is New Year's day
you know; let us both resolve, by God's help, to begin it well, and
make a better use of our time than we ever have done before."
Paul did make the resolve, and earnestly and prayerfully tried to keep
it. He was a better and happier being to the end of his life for his
adventure on New Year's Eve.
JOE'S LETTER
_A New Year's Story_
BY A.L.O.E.
_Author of "The Claremont Tales,"_
_"The White Bear's Den," &c._
[Illustration]
MARSHALL BROTHERS, LTD.
LONDON, EDINBURGH.
JOE'S LETTER
BY A.L.O.E.
[Illustration: "No, Granny, I can't see him."]
JOE'S LETTER
A New Year's Story.
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