"And all thy children shall be taught of the Lord."
"Father," said Tip, as, after having carefully measured out and given him
some cough-drops, he sat down for a chat with him before
school,--"father, didn't you and Mr. Bailey go to school together when
you were boys?"
"Yes," said Mr. Lewis. "Our fathers lived side by side, and we used to
walk more than a mile to school together every morning; we were in the
same class, too, and the best scholars in school. My! times are changed
since that day. My father was considerably better off than his was, and
now he's a rich man, and I'm nobody."
"Was he such a boy as Will Bailey is--or, I mean, as Will used to be?"
"I don't know much about Will; but I know his father was a sorry scamp,
and many's the scrape he got me into. He took a notion to me. We lived
near by, and were always together, and then I was as full of pranks as he
was, I suppose. But he was a regular tyrant over the rest of the boys;
they were more than half afraid of him; I don't know but what I was
myself. Anyhow, I know I've thought I'd have been different, maybe, if I
hadn't followed him so close in all his scrapes."
"Father, did you know Mr. Bailey was different now?"
"Different--how? What do you mean?"
"Why, he comes to prayer-meeting, and speaks and prays, and seems
to love to."
"The mischief he does!" said Mr. Lewis, surprised out of his usual quiet
tone. "I should think he _was_ different. Why, he used to make great fun
of all such things."
"Yes, that's what he says; but I tell you he don't make fun now."
"When did all that happen?"
"A few weeks ago, when the revival was, you know. He got up one night and
asked them to pray for him, and now he almost always speaks or prays in
the meetings."
"Well," said Mr. Lewis, after a pause, and with a little sigh, "I'm
sure I ain't sorry. I only hope it will last; he needed it as bad as any
one I know of."
"It will last," Tip said, speaking positively. "God will look out
for that."
Then he waited a little before he spoke again--but he had been praying
for his father long enough and earnestly enough to feel bold:
"I thought, last night, that you must have been pretty good friends
once," he said presently, "for he most broke down when he was praying for
you, and the tears just blinded him."
Mr. Lewis turned himself on his pillow, and looked steadily at his son.
"Did Mr. Bailey pray for _me_?" he asked at last.
"Yes, he did; and he prayed as if he meant it."
"How came he to?"
"Why, I asked 'em to--all the folks in meeting, you know. I wanted you to
be a Christian, and prayed for you, and then I asked them if they'd pray,
and Mr. Bailey got right up. You don't mind that, do you, father? All the
folks down there ask us to pray for their friends."
"_No_," answered Mr. Lewis at last, speaking slowly, "I don't know that I
do. I need praying for, I suppose, if anybody does. I'm going where I
can't be prayed for, pretty fast, I guess."
Tip had no answer to make to that.
"So you prayed for me too, did you?" his father asked presently.
"Yes, and I do every day, father; I _do_ want you to know Jesus."
A long silence followed, and then the sick man spoke again:
"Well, Tip, I'm glad that you've got right, gladder than I can tell you.
My father was a good man, and tried to make me do what was right; but I
went all wrong, wasted my whole life, and brought up my children to do so
too; but you're getting on without my help, and I'm glad you'll grow up
to be a good man, and be a comfort to your mother when I'm gone. But I
don't know that you need ask folks to pray for me; it's too late,--I've
gone too far to get back."
Tip's bold, prompt manner did not forsake him now; he answered quickly,--
"Father, I don't believe any such thing. God doesn't say anything about
it's being too late; and He says if we want anything very much, and pray
for it, and it's good to have, He'll give it to us; and I'm bound to
believe Him. Once I prayed for Kitty, and prayed and prayed, and it
didn't do a bit of good, until at last Mr. Holbrook told me that maybe it
was because I didn't really believe any of the time that God was going
to do what I wanted Him to; and I found out that was it. Just as soon as
I began to think He would hear me, it all came out straight; and now I'm
bound to believe Him every time. I've asked Him to make you a Christian,
and I'm going to keep on asking, and _He'll do it_. Father,"--Tip's voice
took a softer tone, for he knew there was one very tender spot in his
father's heart,--"don't you want to see little Johnny up in heaven?"
The muscles around Mr. Lewis's mouth began to twitch nervously, and a
tear rolled down his cheek.
"I'm pretty near it," he said at last; "and I think sometimes I'd give
the world, if I had it, to be ready to go; but it's all too late. I've
known the right way all my life, and I've gone the other way; now I must
just take my pay."
The very Spirit of Christ must have shown Tip what to say next. He spoke
the words earnestly and solemnly; he meant no disrespect:
"Father, do you know more about it than God? Because, you see, it don't
say any such thing anywhere in the Bible; I know it don't, for we talked
about it in Sunday school once, and Mr. Holbrook said, 'No matter how old
a man was, nor what he had done, he could be a Christian.'"
"I always thought it looked mean and sneaking in a man to have nothing to
do with such things all his life, and then turn around just because he
was going to die, and pretend to be very good. God can't be pleased with
any such thing as _that_. I've always said that I'd never do it."
Tip couldn't answer this: it didn't sound true; he felt sure it was not
true; but he had no wisdom with which to meet it. He went to school with
those last words of his father's ringing in his heart, and his thoughts
took shape, and spoke in the very first sentence that he addressed to Mr.
Holbrook, whom he overtook as he came out of the post office:
"Mr. Holbrook, can I ask you a question?"
And the minister, always ready to help any one out of trouble, smiled and
bowed, and walked on by the side of the troubled boy.
"If a man should tell you he thought it would be mean in him to turn
around and go to serving God, after he had found out he had but a little
while to live, when he had cheated Him out of all the rest of his life,
what would you say?"
"I think," said Mr. Holbrook, "I would be very likely to ask him whether
he supposed he would feel any less mean for cheating God out of the last
year of his life, simply because he had been doing so all the other
years. Because a man has been doing wrong for forty years, I don't know
why he should add another year of wrong; I should think he might much
better turn around, and make all the amends he could."
"Oh!" said Tip, drawing a long breath; "why couldn't I have thought of
that? I knew it was wrong,--I saw it plain enough; but I couldn't think
of a word to say."
Mr. Holbrook looked earnestly at the eager boy. "Edward," he said at
last, "do you think your father would see me this morning?"
"Yes," said Tip decidedly, "I know he would. If you would only go and see
him, Mr. Holbrook, and explain that to him, I would be _so_ glad."
And, looking back soon after, he had the satisfaction of seeing Mr.
Holbrook walk quickly down town in the direction of his home. And now Tip
felt hopeful for his father: he had prayed for him, he had worked for
him, and now Mr. Holbrook had gone to him; surely he could leave the rest
in God's hands.