Among the scholars in a mission Sabbath school formed in one of our
large country villages, was a little Irish boy, whose bright,
intelligent face, quickness of mind, and earnest attention to the
lessons, had awakened great interest in the mind of his teacher.
After a few Sabbaths, however, this boy was missing, and when sought by
the visiting committee during the week, was never to be found.
Sometimes he was seen from a distance, looking with apparent interest,
as the superintendent or one of the teachers passed by, but if they
attempted to approach him, he would take to his heels, and spring over
walls and fences with such agility that there was no hope of overtaking
him.
Miss L., his teacher in the Sabbath school, was a young lady belonging
to one of the wealthiest families in the village. One cold afternoon in
December, after Jamie had been absent from his class more than a month,
he made his appearance at the back door of her father's house, asking to
see her.
"No, no," said the cook, "ye needn't be thinking the young leddy'll come
in the woodshed to see ye. If ye have any message, ye can go in the
house."
"I don't look nice enough to go in," said Jamie, glancing ruefully at
his torn trousers and coarse, muddy boots.
But it so happened that Miss L. was passing through the hall, and she
heard and recognized the voice at once; so she came to the door to see
what was wanted.
Jamie hung his head in confusion, while the young lady kindly took his
hand in hers, and asked if he had been well, and why he had not been to
Sabbath school.
"Me father wouldn't let me come," he sobbed out at last; "he bate me
because I'd been to the Sabbath school."
"Poor child!" exclaimed Miss L. "But does your father know you came
here this afternoon?"
"No, ma'am; but he said I might have every half holiday to go skating,
if I promised never to go inside the Sabbath school again. So I brought
me Testament, and I thought mebbe you'd teach me here, ma'am."
Was it not a bold request? Did not Jamie know that with home duties and
the claims of social life, his teacher's time must be fully occupied?
Might she not think that her services on the Sabbath were all that
should be required of her?
Ah, no; what were time, and strength, and fashionable amusements, to be
compared with the value of a precious soul? Miss L. could only thank God
for so rich a privilege, and enter with joy upon the work of
instruction.
So every half holiday found Jamie seated by her side in the beautiful
library, earnestly studying the words of the Master, who has said,
"Suffer little children to come unto Me."
Skating-time came and went; the last ice had melted from the pond; but
never once had Jamie gone skating. He had found a source of better,
deeper delight, than even boyish sports could afford.
But Jamie could not always hide the fact that he was spending his time
in this way.
[Illustration: "_It's me Testament, father_."]
One day, his well-worn Testament fell from his pocket in the presence of
his parents.
"What's that?" demanded the father fiercely.
"It's me Testament, father," Jamie gently replied.
"And where did ye get that? Have ye been to the Sabbath school since I
told ye not?"
"No, father; but my teacher gave me this a great while ago."
"And who is your teacher?"
"Miss L."
"What, Miss L.? The one that lives in that splendid house on the hill?"
"Yes, father."
"Well, well, what's in the book? let's hear a bit."
[Illustration: "_What's in the book? let's hear a bit_."]
Providentially, this was one of the rare occasions when Mr. Ryan was not
intoxicated, and as the boy read passage after passage from his beloved
book, the father's mind opened with a child-like interest to the truths
of the holy word.
From that day he became a sincere inquirer after the truth as it is in
Jesus. The appetite for strong drink, which had been the cause of his
degradation, was at last quenched; for a stronger thirst had taken
possession of his soul, even for that purifying stream of which
whosoever drinketh shall never thirst.
When sober, Mr. Ryan was an industrious and intelligent man, and by his
renewed energies his family was soon placed in a position of comfort
and respectability. But that was not all the good effect of Jamie's love
for the truth.
Within a few months, both father and mother had cast off the fetters of
restraint, and were receiving for themselves with meekness and
earnestness, that precious word which was able to save their souls.
Had not Jamie made the very best use of his winter holidays? and was not
his teacher richly rewarded for all her exertions?
How many of our young readers will study with equal earnestness the word
of truth, which is always open to them, that they may learn from it the
way of life? How many Christian teachers will engage with equal interest
in the work of instruction, in the hope that in so doing they may save a
soul from death?
* * * * *
Hosanna to the Son
Of David and of God,
Who brought the news of pardon down,
And bought it with His blood.
To Christ the anointed King
Be endless blessings given;
Let the whole earth His glories sing,
Who made our peace with heaven.
[Illustration]
"WITH A WILL, JOE!"
It was a summer afternoon; the wheelbarrow stood before Mrs. Robbins'
door; the street was empty of all traffic, for the heat was intense.
I sauntered languidly along on the shady side opposite the widow's
house, and noticed her boy bringing out some linen in a basket, to put
on the wheelbarrow.
I was surprised at the size of the basket he was lugging along the
passage and lifting on to the wheelbarrow, and paused to look at him. He
pulled, and dragged, and then resting a moment began again, and in the
silence of the street, I heard him saying something to himself.
I half crossed the road. He was too busy to notice me, and then, in a
pause of his toil, I heard him gasp out:--
"With a will, Joe!" He was encouraging himself to a further effort with
these words. At last, bringing the large basket to the curbstone, he ran
in and got a piece of smooth wood as a lever; resting one end of the
basket on the wheelbarrow, he heaved up the other end, and saying a
little louder than before, "With a will, Joe," the basket was mounted
on to the wheelbarrow.
[Illustration: _"I've managed it, mother."_]
As he rested, and looked proudly at his successful effort, he saw me,
and his round, red face, covered with perspiration, became scarlet for a
moment, as I said:--
"That's a brave boy." The mother's voice sounded in the passage:--
"I'm coming, Joe!" and out she came, as the child, pointing to the
basket, exclaimed:--
"I've managed it, mother!" It was a pretty sight,--the gratified smile
of the widowed mother, as she fondly regarded her willing boy. Though no
further word was spoken, the expression of satisfaction on their faces
was very plain, and I have no doubt in each heart there was a throb of
pleasure for which words have no language.
I went on my way, but the saying, "With a will, Joe," went with me. How
much there was in that simple phrase, "With a will!"
How different is our work according as we do it with or against our
will. This little fellow might have cried or murmured, or left his
mother to do the work, and been dissatisfied with himself, and a source
of discontent to his mother; but he had spurred himself on to toil and
duty, with his words, powerful in their simplicity--"With a will, Joe."
Often since have I recalled the scene and the saying. When some young
lady complains to me, "I have no time to give to doing good. I've visits
to make, and shopping to do, and embroidery to finish, how can I help
the poor when I'm so pressed for time?" I am apt to say mentally, "How
different it would be with her, if she had ever said to herself, 'With a
will.'"
Yes, with a will we can do almost anything that ought to be done; and
without a will we can do nothing as it should be done. To all of us,
whatever our station, there come difficulties and trials. If we yield to
them, we are beaten down and conquered.
But if we, ourselves, conquer the temptation to do wrong, calling the
strength of God to aid us in our struggle with the enemy, we shall grow
stronger and more valiant with every battle, and less liable to fall
again into temptation. Our wisdom and our duty are to rouse
ourselves,--to speak to our own hearts as the child did in his simple
words, "With a will, Joe."
[Illustration: "_I shan't go to school_."]