Miss Prudence continued quite unable to do anything all winter, some of
Ella's scholars dropped off on account of the severity of the weather,
and the man who had taken her aunt's house failed to pay his rent. All
these causes combined brought down their resources very much indeed,
and Ella began to economize in every possible way, while she looked
forward to the future with a good deal of anxiety. She also exerted
herself to sew in the evenings that she might earn a little more,
but she was generally too weary and sleepy after her day's work to
accomplish much. She did not fail to ask help of Him who has promised
to be a Father to the fatherless, and to hear his children when they
cry; and sometimes when she had cast all her cares upon him, and read
the precious promises of his word, her heart was filled with peace and
joy, and she felt sure that he would never suffer them to come to want;
but she was a young Christian, and sometimes her faith was weak, and
unbelief would suggest that perhaps, after all, these promises were not
meant for her; that one so weak and sinful as she, could hardly hope
she was a child of God; then what right had she to claim his promises
as hers? and besides, were not Christians sometimes left to suffer
want? and then she was unhappy indeed.
One day Ella felt very much distressed; they were almost out of flour,
and fuel, and nearly every other necessary, all her last quarter's
money had been spent, their rent was due the next day, and her present
quarter would not close for some weeks. What was to be done? She had
no earthly friend to go to for assistance, but she carried her trouble
to her heavenly Father.
"Bread shall be given him; his waters shall be sure. Your heavenly
Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things. But seek ye
first the kingdom of God and his righteousness; and all these things
shall be added unto you. Take therefore no thought for the morrow,
for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Call upon
me in the day of trouble; I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify
me. I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee. Heaven and earth shall
pass away, but my words shall not pass away." These were some of the
promises she found in his word, and feeling a firm assurance that he
would be faithful to his promises, she went to her work with a calm and
quiet mind, and a cheerful countenance. "Be careful for nothing but
in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your
requests be made known unto God; and the peace of God which passeth all
understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus."
Do you doubt it, reader? Only make the trial. "Then shall ye know, if
ye follow on to know the Lord."
Ella returned from school in the evening, and still there was no
apparent prospect of relief, but she did not feel troubled; she knew it
would come in due time. Her aunt had no idea how nearly destitute they
were, for Ella had not thought it necessary to tell her, as she knew it
would only distress her, and could do no good.
Tea was over, the dishes washed, everything put in order, and Ella had
seated herself with her sewing at her aunt's bedside, when there was a
rap at the outer door. Ella rose, went into the hall, and opened the
door. Seeing a gentleman standing before it, she said,
"Good evening, sir, will you walk in?"
"No, thank you," said he, "I have hardly time. I cannot account for it,
Miss Clinton, but it has come into my head several times to-day, that
you might be in want of money, and that I might just as well pay you
for the children's schooling _now_, as two or three weeks hence; so I
have brought it round. I suppose you have no objection?"
"Thank you," said Ella, scarcely able to command her voice, "I _was_ in
need of it. You are very kind indeed."
"Not at all," said he. "Good evening!"
It was a gentleman who sent her a number of scholars, and the money
he had brought was more than sufficient to relieve their present
necessities. With a full heart, Ella thanked the Giver of all good.
"Oh, how could I ever doubt!" she exclaimed. "Truly he is faithful to
his promises!" She now went to her aunt, and told her the whole story.
As they had only Ella's school to depend upon, they had quite a
struggle to live through the winter, and several times were brought to
great straits, but help always came in time to save them from actual
suffering.
As spring approached, there was some improvement in Miss Prudence's
health, so that she was now able to sit in an arm-chair through the
day, and use her hands a little in sewing. She had been more silent
than usual for some days; seeming very low spirited, seldom speaking,
and when she did, always in her very crossest tones.
It was a dark, chilly, uncomfortable afternoon. Ella was coming home
from school, and as she passed the post-office, she called to inquire
for letters. It was a long time since she had heard from either of her
friends, and she was anxiously looking for a letter; but there was
none, and she turned away with a heavy sigh. There are times when the
mind seems to partake of the weariness of the body; when the spirit
sinks beneath its load; when one feels weary of life--weary of the
constant struggle for existence, and longs to be done with the cares
and toils, the doubts, fears and anxieties of this life. So Ella felt
to-night, as she wended her weary way towards her cheerless home.
"Oh, if I had only one friend to sympathize with, and encourage me!"
sighed she. "It is so long since I have heard from either of my dear
friends, that I almost begin to fear that they have forgotten me. If
so, how entirely friendless I am! No, not _friendless_; there are many
dear, kind, christian people here, though I do not yet know them well
enough to go to them with my troubles, and ask for their sympathy; but
have I not a 'Friend that sticketh closer than a brother?' one whose
love will never grow cold; one who never changes; 'Jesus Christ the
same yesterday, to-day, and for ever?'
'His love, no end nor measure knows,
No change can turn its course;
Immutably, the same it flows
From one eternal source.'
"Oh, how wrong is this feeling of discontent and weariness; this
repining at my lot, when I know that it is all ordered by Him who is
infinitely wise and good! And Oh, how many blessings I have, and yet
how unworthy am I of the very least of them! 'Be content with such
things as ye have, for he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor
forsake thee.' Precious promise! what more do I need?"
Filled with such sweet and comforting thoughts, she entered the room
where her aunt was sitting, with a light step and cheerful face. She
was extremely surprised to find Miss Prudence in tears. It was a sight
so unusual--for it had always been Miss Prudence's boast that she was
above such weakness--that Ella thought something dreadful must have
happened.
"Dear aunt Prudence, what is the matter?" she exclaimed.
"Nothing," said Miss Prudence, turning away her face.
"Nothing, dear aunt Prudence? I am very sure it can be no trifle that
moves _you_ so. My dear aunt, we two are all alone in the world;
surely, you will not refuse me a share in your confidence."
"Go away, Ella! I told you it was nothing; can't you believe me?"
replied Miss Prudence, angrily.
Seeing that it would be useless to press the matter farther at that
time, Ella left her aunt, and set about getting tea, her mind all
the time occupied with conjectures as to what might be the cause of
Miss Prudence's trouble. Miss Prudence had never made a profession
of religion, but she often boasted that she was "quite as good as any
member of the church, and a great deal better than some of them; for
she read a chapter in the Bible every day, and went regularly to church
twice every Sabbath, rain or shine, which was more than some of the
members did. She was a good neighbour, kind to the poor, never cheated
anybody in her life, and always tried to do as near right as she could;
and so she thought she had about as good a chance of going to Heaven
as any of the rest." Indeed, she was very much like the Pharisee who
prayed: "God, I thank thee that I am not as other men are; unjust,
extortioners, nor even as this publican."
Ella had offered up many fervent prayers on her aunt's behalf, that
she might be led to see upon what a broken reed she was leaning; that
God would open the eyes of her understanding, that she might become
sensible how entirely without merit were her very best deeds, yea, even
needing to be forgiven, hateful in the sight of God, because not done
from any desire to glorify him, but from entirely selfish motives; and
that seeing these things to be so, and how utterly helpless and undone
she was, she might be led to lay hold upon the hope set before her, and
accept of Jesus Christ as he is freely offered in the gospel, trusting
in his merits alone for salvation. Could it be that her prayers were
about to be answered? She felt a faint hope that it might indeed be so.
The evening passed in almost total silence, for though Miss Prudence
seemed restless and ill at ease, she was not disposed to talk, but
appeared to be occupied with her own thoughts. Ella was wearied with
the labours of the day, and had been nodding over her sewing for some
minutes, when the clock struck nine.
"You had better go to bed, Ella," said Miss Prudence. "There is no use
in trying to sew, when you can't keep your eyes open."
"I believe I might as well," replied Ella, folding up her work; "but
you will go too, aunt Prudence, won't you?"
"No; it's no use, for I couldn't sleep," said Miss Clinton, leaning her
head upon her hand, with a heavy sigh.
"Do your limbs pain you worse than usual to-night, aunt?" asked Ella.
"No, child, they're easy enough at present; but bodily pain is not
always the hardest to bear."
"What is it that troubles you so, dear aunt? let me at least give you
my sympathy, if I can do nothing more."
Miss Prudence remained silent, but Ella ventured again to urge her to
confide her trouble to her.
"Ella," she said at last, "I used to say--and I _thought_ it too--that
I was quite as good as any of my neighbours, and quite as likely to
go to Heaven as any of those who made a profession of religion. I
considered myself quite good, and deserving of salvation; but lately
my views and feelings have changed, and I seem to myself to be a very
great sinner, so hardened and so wicked that it frightens me to think
of it; for I don't see how it is possible that such a vile wretch can
be saved. I'm afraid I have sinned away my day of grace, and I shall go
down to hell."
"Dear aunt Prudence, listen to what God says, 'Deliver him from going
down to the pit; I have found a ransom.' 'This is a faithful saying,
and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to
save sinners.'"
"But not such sinners as I; remember how many years I have been turning
a deaf ear to all his invitations; how often he has called, and I have
refused. Oh! these words are constantly ringing in my ears: 'Because
I have called, and ye refused; I have stretched out my hand, and no
man regarded; but ye have set at nought all my counsel, and would none
of my reproof; I also will laugh at your calamities, I will mock when
your fear cometh.' O Ella, I am sure those words are spoken to me," she
added, with a shudder, covering her face with her hands.
"Dear aunt, he says, 'I will be merciful to their unrighteousness, and
their sins and iniquities will I remember no more.'"
"It doesn't mean me," she replied, with a hopeless shake of the head.
"'Come now and let us reason together, saith the Lord; though your sins
be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow, though they be red like
crimson, they shall be as wool.' Dear aunt, those words are addressed
to you as much as to any one."
Miss Clinton shook her head. "They might have been once, but not now,
it is too late."
"Aunt Prudence, God says, 'I have no pleasure in the death of him that
dieth, but rather that he turn from his evil way and live.' 'Turn ye,
turn ye, for why will ye die, O house of Israel?'"
"That's not for me, for I can't turn. I might have done it once, but
now it's too late."
"Why do you say it is too late, aunt? Would you limit the power of God?
Are we not told that 'Christ is able to save to the _uttermost, all_
that come unto God by him,' and does he not invite you to come? 'Come
unto me all ye that labour, and are heavy laden, and _I will_ give you
rest.'"
"But he says, 'My Spirit shall not always strive,' and I can't expect
that he will ever strive with me again, since I have resisted him, and
grieved him away so often. No, it is too late."
"Aunt Prudence, I am sure he has not ceased to strive with you, or you
would not feel the anxiety that you do. I believe he is striving with
you now."
"No, Ella, you have no idea how hard, how dreadfully hard my heart is.
Ella, fifty years I have lived in rebellion against God, I have given
all my best days to the world; I did not seek God early, and now I
cannot expect to find him."
"Remember the thief on the cross, aunt Prudence, saved at the eleventh
hour. 'God is the Lord, the Lord God merciful and gracious, slow to
anger, and of great mercy, forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin.'"
"'But who will by no means clear the guilty,'" added Miss Prudence,
"and who more guilty than I?"
"But aunt Prudence, he says, 'I have found a ransom.' Jesus says, 'Come
unto me and I _will_ give you rest; you have only to come casting away
every other dependence, and he _will_ receive you.' 'Return unto
the Lord and he will have mercy upon you, and to our God for he will
abundantly pardon.'"
"No, Ella, not me. I have sinned away my day of grace, and now it is
too late; there can be no more mercy for such a wretch as I."
"Aunt Prudence," said Ella, "the adversary of souls, the devil, 'who
goeth about as a roaring lion seeking whom he may devour,' has long
been successful in making you put off repentance, by persuading you
to trust in a false hope, telling you that you were as good, and as
likely to be saved as others; and now that he finds that he cannot make
you shut your eyes any longer to the danger, he would fain persuade
you that it is _too late_ to repent and seek God. But don't--Oh! don't
listen to his suggestions. It is _not_ too late. Jesus stands ready to
save you. Oh! come to him now, for he says, 'I will in _no wise_ cast
out.'"
Miss Clinton sat for some time without speaking, her face buried in
her hands, while Ella was silently lifting up her heart to God in her
behalf.
"Ella," said she at last, "go to bed, child, and leave me; I wish to be
alone now."
Ella bent over her aunt, and kissed her forehead, saying in a low
tone, "Good night, dear aunt; remember, 'He is able to save unto the
_uttermost_.'"
The next morning, Miss Prudence seemed more composed, but said nothing
on the subject of the last night's conversation, and there was
something in her manner which kept Ella from alluding to it. Weeks
passed away, and gradually a change seemed to come over Miss Prudence.
She seemed calm, and even cheerful, was more patient than Ella had ever
known her, and spoke very gently and pleasantly, and Ella several
times surprised her reading her Bible, and shedding tears over it;
still she said nothing on the subject for some time.
At length one quiet Sabbath-evening when they were sitting together
at the window, watching the last rays of the setting sun, laying her
hand on her niece's shoulder, while the tears trembled in her eyes, she
said, "Ella, I have begun to indulge a faint, a trembling hope that I
have been born again, that I am changed; that with me 'old things have
passed away, and all things have become new,' and that when my Sabbaths
here on earth are over, I shall go to spend an eternal Sabbath in
heaven. Yes, spend it in praising redeeming love,
'Amazing love! how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.'
"And it is to _you_, Ella, under God, more than to any one else, that
I owe this. I have watched you for years, and have been astonished to
see the careless, proud, self-willed, passionate child, change to the
meek, submissive, patient, and humble young Christian. I had often said
to myself that there was nothing in religion, but how could I doubt it
any longer when I saw such fruits?"
"O aunt Prudence," said Ella, "I have often felt afraid that _I_ was
the stumbling block in your way that was keeping you from coming to
Christ; for I have come so very far short in the performance of my
duty, I have shown so little of the spirit of Christ."
"I know you are not perfect, Ella, but you are strangely changed, and I
can plainly see that you are trying to serve God."
"Give the glory where it is due, dear aunt Prudence; but Oh, how happy
I am! I feel as if I had nothing more to ask for, now that you, my
dear aunt, will be my companion in my pilgrimage. God has heard my
prayers. He is indeed 'the hearer, and answerer of prayer.' But, aunt
Prudence, you had two much brighter examples of piety before you, in my
mother and Miss Layton; did not the beautiful consistency of _their_
lives convince you of the truth and value of religion?"
"I never knew them until years after their conversion, and when I was
forced to notice how good and amiable they were, I said to myself,
It is their natural disposition; but I _knew_ what _you_ were by
nature, so that that excuse did not avail me then, and I could not but
acknowledge to myself, that nothing but the power of God could have
wrought such a change. And I bless God for the affliction, with which
he has visited me this winter, for while confined to my bed unable to
do anything, and often with nothing but my thoughts to occupy me, I
seemed to be compelled to think of my past life, and to consider my
latter end."
During the ensuing summer, Miss Clinton's health was almost entirely
restored. She also recovered the money she had lost, and they returned
to S----, to their old home. Mary and Ella were rejoiced to be once
more near each other; able to take sweet counsel together, to walk
together to the house of God, and together to talk of their common
hopes and joys. All her old neighbours were surprised to see the
strange change in Miss Prudence. The quiet, gentle, humble woman that
returned to them, was so different from the loud, boisterous, proud and
passionate woman that went away, that they knew not what to make of it.
They all agreed that she was very much improved, but no one enjoyed
the change so keenly as Ella. There was now no discord in her home,
but peace and love reigned in its stead. Aunt Prudence, from being her
greatest trial, had become her dearest earthly comfort: formerly, they
seemed to have nothing in common; now,
"Their fears, their hopes, their aims were one,
Their comforts and their cares."
"Aunt Prudence," said Ella to her aunt, one day a few months after
their return, "the school Miss Layton had when she was here last, is
now without a teacher, and a gentleman was speaking to me yesterday
about taking it; what do you say?"
"I think you had better not; there is no longer any necessity for you
to exert yourself, unless you are too proud to depend upon me."
"I confess that I prefer being independent, aunt, though I hope it is
not _pride_ that makes me feel so; but setting that reason aside, I
still feel a desire to teach. I think that scarcely any one has more
opportunities for doing good than a christian teacher, and it is
certainly our duty to do all the good we can; to use every talent in
the service of our Master. 'To him that knoweth to do good and doeth
it not, to him it is sin.' You know I succeeded in my first effort so
well, that the parents of my pupils urged me to stay, and continue my
school; I think that proves that I have a talent for teaching, and if I
have, ought I not to use it?"
"Think of the great, the solemn responsibility, Ella."
"I have thought of it, aunt Prudence, and I feel that it is a _very_
great responsibility; but would I get rid of it by burying my talent in
the earth?"
"But, Ella, you used to come home looking so miserably tired, so
completely worn out. I don't believe, my child, that it is your duty to
work yourself to death."
"Nor I, either, aunt Prudence; but I don't think it will kill me. You
must remember that _then_ I had the care of the house in addition to
the school; and that I shall not have _now_; and besides, as somebody
says, 'I had rather _wear_ out than _rust_ out,' rather die of too much
work than of too much idleness."
"Well, Ella, if you really are so anxious to teach, I will not oppose
it; but as to your not liking to be dependent upon me, what difference
does it make whether you take a part of my money now, or get it all at
my death? for I have no one to leave it to but you, and it must all be
yours at last."
"Don't talk about dying, dear aunt," said Ella, with tears in her eyes;
"I hope you have a great many years yet to live."
"If it is God's will, I have no objection, Ella; but I hope we may both
be ready whenever our Lord shall come; if we are only prepared, it will
make very little difference _when_ the summons comes. But I did not
mean to distress you; I am perfectly well, and as likely, I suppose, to
live to old age as any one else."
"Well, auntie, may I take the school?"
"Yes, child; if you wish."
So Ella taught school in the same town and in the very same room where
she had been a pupil herself; and people said she was very much such
a teacher as Miss Layton, which Ella considered the highest praise
that could have been bestowed upon her. And she _was_ like Miss Layton
in her patient, gentle manner towards her scholars, and her earnest
efforts to lead them to Christ.
"By their _fruits_ ye shall know them." Reader, what kind of fruit are
_you_ bearing? "A good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit, neither can
a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit." Judged by your fruits, what
are you? A good or a corrupt tree? Are you a careless, unconcerned
sinner walking in the broad road that leads to eternal death?--or are
you treading the strait and narrow way that leads to life everlasting?
Are you taken up with the things of _this_ world, living only for the
present moment, careless of the interests of your immortal soul, and
unconcerned about the forgiveness of your sins? Are you a slave to
the law, trying to work out a salvation of your own, and merit heaven
by your own good works?--or are you a loving child, serving a tender
and beloved Parent, striving to bring forth much fruit, that you 'may
glorify your Father which is in heaven?' "Behold what manner of love
the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of
God."
"We would no longer lie
Like slaves beneath the throne;
My faith shall Abba, Father, cry;
And thou the kindred own."
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:
Obvious printer errors have been corrected. Otherwise, the author's
original spelling, punctuation and hyphenation have been left intact.