DOING AND GETTING GOOD--WYCOFF'S REFORM.
The day was mild and spring-like, and Daddy had not been long gone,
when the snow began to yield to the soft touches of the sun's bright
rays.
Fanny stood by the window and sighed, and wished audibly that the sun
would "put on a veil."
The wish and manner so entirely foreign to the child's naturally
cheerful and contented disposition attracted Little Wolf's attention.
"Why Fanny, do you complain of this lovely day?" she said, in
surprise.
"O no, Miss DeWolf, but I was afraid the snow would all melt away
before my sled was mended, and I love so much to be out of doors
coasting."
"How would you like to take a walk with me?" said Little Wolf, willing
to amuse the child, for whom she had already conceived a warm
affection.
"O I would like it ever so much," said Fanny, joyfully.
"Now where shall we go, Fanny?" said Little Wolf, as they started out.
"Why, I don't know," said Fanny hesitatingly; "when mamma used to take
me out, she said we must go somewhere where we could do good.
Sometimes we went over to old Mrs. Peters'; she is sick all the time,
and has no one to help her except her grandson, Charley. Mamma used to
make her bed, and read the bible and pray with her, and comfort her
all she could. Poor mamma often wished she could carry her something
nice to eat, but we hadn't hardly anything to eat ourselves. May be
you wouldn't like to go there, though?" said Fanny, doubtfully.
Little Wolf hesitated.
"She used to know your mamma," said Fanny, "and she said that Mrs.
DeWolf was one of the kindest friends she ever had."
"We will go there, Fanny," said Little Wolf decidedly
Their way lay over the very hill where occurred their disastrous
collision with Mr. Wycoff; about half a mile from the foot of which,
on a cross road, lived Mrs. Peters. Fanny ran joyously on before,
occasionally turning back to call Little Wolf's attention to a
squirrel, or a bird, never dreaming that her companion was less
interested than herself. In this way they reached the top of the hill,
and began the descent, when suddenly Fanny began to look grave and
loiter beside Little Wolf. At length she spoke in a subdued whisper,
"There lies poor Fleet Foot, Miss DeWolf; he will never breathe
again."
Little Wolf sank upon a rock by the wayside, and hid her face in her
hands. She thought and said aloud, "O, why was I spared to be so
wretched?"
Fanny burst into a flood of tears. "What would have become of me if
you had been killed?" she sobbed.
Surprised at this demonstration of affection, Little Wolf looked up
and drew Fanny towards her. The child's words, she knew not why, had
consoled and strengthened her. "Fanny," said she, "everybody must have
something to live for, and I have you"
"O yes, mamma used to say we must all live to do good," said Fanny,
brightening.
Little Wolf rose and struggled bravely to choke down her rising
feelings, for just then she was comparing the bright voyage of life,
which she had so lately pictured for herself, with the dark and stormy
reality. At that moment, when she would have scorned to indulge in
pusillanimous grief, her noble spirit recognized and bowed in willing
obedience to the sublime principle involved in Fanny's life-inspiring
words.
"Well, Fanny," she replied, "if I do live, I hope it will not be in
vain. I'm afraid I've been very wicked and selfish all my life."
"O, Miss DeWolf I'm sure you are the _bestest_, _preciousest_ woman
next to my mother, that I ever saw in all my life."
Fanny made this declaration with the air and assurance of one whose
years had embraced a century; but at that moment, an object met her
eye, which reminded her that she was but a helpless child. "O, there
is Mr. Wycoff!" she exclaimed suddenly, as the rough farmer was seen
coming up the hill.
Fanny trembled violently, for she feared this man. But Little Wolf,
constitutionally brave, in her present state of mind feared nothing,
composedly seated herself again upon the rock.
The farmer advanced slowly, and recognized Little Wolf with a bow, and
reassured Fanny with a cordial "How are you, Fanny?" Then, as he
observed traces of tears on Fanny's cheek, and Little Wolf's sad look
and mourning dress, he stopped short. "Now Miss DeWolf," said he,
bluntly, "I may as well say it first as last, I did not mean to run
over you that day, but I had been drinking, and did not know what I
was about. Whatever you say is right, I will pay you, for I have felt
mean about it ever since; 'specially as you haven't made any fuss
about it."
Little Wolf appeared noble indeed, as she feelingly replied, "Mr.
Wycoff, I would cheerfully make the same sacrifice again, if by that
means I could persuade you never to taste another drop of intoxicating
drink."
"O, I cannot agree to that," said Wycoff, "but I shall do the fair
thing by you, for you have acted like a lady."
Then Little Wolf, with a sudden impulse, arose and stepped forward,
and began to plead earnestly and eloquently with the man to give up
the use of the intoxicating cup. Nor did she plead in vain. The strong
man at length yielded to her persuasions; persuasions around which
hung the fragrance of the bruised heart, from which they emanated;
touching, irresistible.
Inspirational hours are often the fruit of anguish unutterable. The
suffering soul begins unconsciously to feel upward, and, at the
propitious moment, heaven appoints its work. Thus Little Wolf received
her mission, which, with characteristic energy she delayed not to
fulfil.
His word having been pledged to total abstinence, Wycoff turned back
towards home.
"I was only going to the brewery to meet a few friends," he said, "and
if I don't drink with them I may as well keep away."
He walked along with Little Wolf and Fanny as far as the cross road,
and when they parted, again renewed his vow right heartily. "Never
fear, Miss DeWolf," he said, "I shall never taste another drop of
liquor, so help me Almighty God."
"There, now we are _certain_, ain't we, Miss DeWolf? for he asked God
to help him. O, I'm so glad, I'm so glad you have lived to do good,"
said Fanny, as the farmer passed on.
Fanny was exuberant. Her little heart overflowed, and, at intervals
during the remainder of their walk, "I'm so glad, I'm so glad," rang
out on the still air in sweet, childish accents, mingling with the
songs of spring birds, and echoing through the lonely woods.
Arrived at the cottage, they met a warm welcome from Mrs. Peters. For
many years, widowed and bed ridden, she had lingered in pain and
poverty. Her grandson Charley, a bright, active youth, orphaned at an
early age, had, since the death of his mother, been her constant
companion and faithful nurse.
He was her pride and her delight, and she in turn shared his warmest
affections. It was beautiful indeed to see the noble-hearted boy
yielding all his young strength in providing for her wants. His small
earnings at wood cutting, combined with the charity of a few kind
hearted neighbors, had during the winter, kept them from absolute
want. No wonder, then, that the ambitious youth, anxious to escape
the pinches of poverty, was eager to accept a situation in Hank
Glutter's saloon, that morning liberally offered by the proprietor in
person. No wonder that, grieved and disheartened by the opposition of
his grandmother, he met Little Wolf and Fanny, (who had interrupted
their discussion of the matter), with a downcast countenance.
Conscious that his manner had been observed, the old lady hastened to
apologize, "My Charley is feeling quite badly just now," she said.
"Mr. Glutter called here this morning on the way to one of our
neighbors, and offered him a clerkship. He will call soon for his
answer, and I was just telling Charley that I was unwilling to have
him go where he would be exposed to so many temptations."
"Grandmother needs the money," said Charley, "and it is for her sake I
want to go. She needn't be afraid of my getting bad habits."
"Well, Charley, we will talk about it again bye and bye," said the
old lady, soothingly.
"But there's Mr. Glutter, now, grandma," said the boy springing to the
door, "do let me tell him that I will go, _do_ grandma," he begged
with painful earnestness.
"Do as your grandma think's best, and you will not be sorry," said
Little Wolf in an undertone as Hank approached the door.
"Well, my man," said Hank with great assurance.
"I must do as grandma says," and Charley threw the door wide open.
At sight of Mrs. Peters' visitors, Hank gave a start of surprise, but
quickly recovering himself, he bestowed upon each a gentlemanly
greeting, and without futher ceremony, plunged into the business upon
which he had come.
"Well, Mrs. Peters, have you decided to accept my offer?"
"You are very kind and generous, Mr. Glutter, and I thank you," said
the old lady, anxious to soften her refusal; but too honest to give
any except the true reason, she continued, "the truth is, I do not
like to have Charley go where the influence will be so unfavorable to
his becoming a good, sober man."
Had she studied to make it so, Mrs. Peters' guileless reply could not
have been more inflammatory to Hank's temper, for, like others of his
class, he was peculiarly sensitive to any reflection cast upon his
business. His eyes flashed, and his lip curled scornfully, but having
in mind Little Wolf's presence, he responded smoothly enough, "Very
well, Mrs. Peters. Good morning; good morning, ladies," and bowed
himself out of the room.
Mrs. Peters drew a sigh of relief, but poor Charley, after struggling
a moment for composure, left the apartment with quivering lip, and
Little Wolf soon caught a view of him through the window, wiping his
eyes with his coat sleeve.
"Poor dear Charley," said his grandmother, "it comes hard on him now,
but, God willing, I hope he will live to thank me for it."
Little Wolf rose hastily. "I must go out and have a little talk with
Charley," she said.
"She is just like her father," said Mrs. Peters, as Little Wolf
flitted from the room, "when he first came to Chimney Rock he was a
princely looking man.
"O, she is the beautifulest lady I ever saw," was Fanny's enthusiastic
rejoinder.
"I have understood that she is very gay and fashionable since she came
from boarding school."
Fanny was at first rather doubtful as to what construction to put upon
the reports which had reached the ears of the old lady, and she
hesitated to endorse anything of the nature of which she was not quite
clear; but she finally compromised the matter by saying, "if it is
very good to be gay and fashionable, then she is, for she is nothing
else but good."
"Well, if she is only a humble, devoted Christian like her mother, I
shall be satisfied," sighed Mrs. Peters.
Fanny had by this time come to the conclusion that gay and fashionable
was only another name for superior goodness, and she answered
accordingly. "Why, Mrs. Peters, she is really a very gay, humble,
fashionable, devoted Christion. She is gooder than her mother, for she
never took me away from bad people as she did."
Not deeming it worth while to enter into any troublesome explanations,
Mrs. Peters determined to suit her language to the child's
comprehension, said simply, "Well, I hope she loves God, and will
teach you to love him too."
"O, she does love God, Mrs. Peters. I heard her speak to him ever so
many times last night, and I was teached to love him before she had
me," said Fanny very seriously.
At this instant the object of their conversation made her appearance
followed by Charley, whose countenance exhibited quite a different
aspect from that which it had worn a short time previously.
Little Wolf had successfully held the cup of consolation to him in the
form of a present and a promise, and she was now about to take her
leave, but Mrs. Peters detained her. Never came one into her presence
that she allowed to depart without first satisfying herself as to
whether, as she expressed it, they had "got religion."
Now, it was her belief that pure and undefiled religion before God is
this: "To visit the widow and fatherless in their affliction, and to
keep ourselves unspotted from the world." An intimate acquaintance
with the book in which these sentiments are to be found, had quickened
her perceptions as to their true meaning, and, as by that standard she
gave judgment, it was not easy to deceive her.
Highly as Little Wolf had risen in her esteem, and highly as Fanny had
eulogized the piety of her young benefactress, there yet remained a
doubt in the old lady's mind as to the entire soundness of her
religious principles. A straightforward question while she still held
Little Wolf's hand in her parting grasp, "Dear child, I know you visit
the widow and fatherless in their affliction, but do you keep
yourself unspotted from the world?"
The innocent rejoinder, "I do not quite know what that means, 'to keep
yourself unspotted from the world,'" resolved her doubts.
"Well, dear child, read your Bible carefully and you will find out all
about it," exhorted Mrs. Peters, "I might give you my opinion, but it
is better to get your ideas fresh from the fountain head. You will
find that those spotless robes hang very high, but not beyond the
reach of the arms of faith."
Our heroine went away deeply pondering the words of her newly found
friend.