NEW LESSONS.
IT was not late when Adam Livesey found himself on the road home, for
the conductors of these mission services wisely brought them to a close
at nine o'clock. They knew that their hearers would mainly consist of
working men who must be in bed betimes, in order that they might be
ready to rise early in the morning. It was a common thing for a few to
stay and hold a brief prayer-meeting, or for individuals to ask advice
from the conductors, but these would sanction no late gatherings which
would unfit the men for the duties of the morrow.
Adam shrank from speaking to or being addressed by any one, and he was
amongst the first to slip quietly out of the room. He had plenty to
think about, and the wish uppermost in his mind was that his wife could
have been with him. She would have been put right about the people
she called hypocrites. He could understand her feelings about that
neighbour who was constantly running about from one religious service
to another, whilst neglecting her plainest every-day duties.
Adam could not have quoted the words of Jesus, "These ought ye to have
done, and not to leave the other undone," but he understood the spirit
of their teaching.
Then Adam remembered an experience of his own. It happened during his
brief courting days, and when he was very anxious to give his pretty
Maggie some little gift. Being unused to make any purchase of the kind,
he had gone from window to window, and gazed at the glittering objects
within, passing on and on, without being able to make up his mind.
He had wandered far beyond his usual bounds, and entered the great
square of the city, in which the principal jewellers' shops were
situated. Before the window of one, he stood as if spellbound, for the
many ornaments it contained shone so beautifully. He thought they were
bits of glass, such as hung from lustres and chandeliers in another
great shop he had passed, only very finely cut. There were carriages
about the door, and for a long time Adam shrank from entering, and
stood, turning over his few hoarded shillings in his pocket.
One grandly dressed customer after another came out, entered a waiting
carriage and was driven away, and as others did not take their places,
Adam mustered enough courage first to peep round the doorway, and then
to enter the shop. An assistant stepped forward and politely asked what
he could show him, whilst the faces of the rest manifested surprise
at the appearance of this would-be customer. Indeed, they one and all
decided to keep a sharp eye on him. He had been observed as he hung
about the windows for nearly half an hour past, and was regarded as
a suspicious character. What could this rugged fellow in his working
clothes be wanting in the shop of the first jeweller in Millborough?
In answer to the assistant's inquiry Adam said, "There's a little thing
in the window I thought of buying, if it's not too much money. Please
tell me what you want for it."
The assistant invited him to step outside and point out the article,
which Adam did, and the young man returned to his place behind the
counter, and took the little brooch from the window case, saying—
"This is the one, I believe."
"Yes," said Adam, gazing with admiring eyes, but not venturing to
extend his hand that he might look at it more closely. "It's only a
little thing, but it's very neat. I reckon it will not be very much,
now?"
"Not much in comparison with many of the others, but the stones are
good. The price is thirty-five pounds."
Adam stared like one struck dumb, and was turning to go, but
"remembering manners," as he afterwards told, he said to the assistant,
"Thank you kindly, sir, for telling me. I'm sorry I've given you the
trouble but I might have known that the things in a grand shop like
this wouldn't be for such as me."
There was something so innocent and genuine in Adam's look and words
that the assistant was touched, and he said, "You are very welcome. I
am sorry we have not what you want. What did you wish to spend?"
Adam blushed deeply. "Only a matter o' ten shillings, or so. But I
never wanted to buy a brooch before, and I know nothing about such
matters. I'm to be married in a week or two, and I thought I would buy
her a present."
"You must come to us for the wedding ring, then," said the
good-humoured shopman. "We will serve you extra well, to make up for
your disappointment to-day."
Further than this, the young man told Adam that the pretty glittering
things he admired so much were real diamonds, and explained something
of their properties and uses, apart from their beauty. It interested
him to see the rugged face light up with pleasure and astonishment, and
to receive the hearty thanks which followed.
He could not join in the burst of laughter which the rest of the
assistants indulged in when Adam was out of hearing, though he smiled
at the simplicity of the man, while regretting his disappointment.
He was pleased when Adam actually made his appearance a fortnight
later, and he was able to fit the finger of the pretty smiling lass
who accompanied him with the all-important ring. He even presented the
bride elect with a little silver brooch in the shape of a bird, which
was still one of Mrs. Livesey's treasured possessions, and of genuine
metal, as its durability proved.
This old experience enabled Adam to understand the preacher's teaching
better than he could have done without it, and he thought to himself,
"If I took real stones for imitations, no wonder other folks sometimes
take sham things and people for real good ones till they're taught
better, or find 'em out."
Adam soon reached home, and as he entered, Sarah Evans rose from her
seat to pour out his frugal supper of porridge, and to place it before
him. She had been reading, for she put her book aside at his coming.
"The children are all in bed and asleep," she said. "They have been
very good with me; better than I expected, though I am used to
children. Yours are very ready to do as they are bid."
"They find it best for 'em," said Adam. Not many words, but they
expressed a good deal.
"It's best for us all, isn't it, Mr. Livesey? Though it's sometimes
hard work to do a thing just because it's right, specially when one's
mind is hanging after something else."
Adam answered that he supposed it was, then relapsed into silence
again, and attacked the plate of steaming porridge, though he
afterwards bethought himself to ask if Sarah had kept any for her own
supper.
"I had my bit before you came. I was getting some food of another sort
when you came in, and I hardly noticed how time was going."
Adam looked round inquiringly, and the girl, seeing this, laid her hand
on the Bible. "I didn't mean anything to eat. I was reading some words
of Jesus. It cheers one so to have a verse or two to think about, when
one's hands are busy and there's nobody to speak to. I shall be washing
to-morrow, but all the day through I shall have these verses coming
into my head, and helping me on."
"You might read them to me," said Adam, making his porridge last out,
as an excuse for not moving.
[Illustration]
Sarah complied with the request, and read—
"And Jesus said unto them, 'I am the bread of life: he that cometh to
Me shall never hunger; and he that believeth on Me shall never thirst.'
"'All that the Father giveth Me shall come to Me; and him that cometh
to Me I will in no wise cast out.'
"'And this is the Father's will which hath sent Me, that of all which
He hath given Me I should lose nothing, but should raise it up again at
the last day. And this is the will of him that sent Me, that every one
that seeth the Son, and believeth on Him, may have everlasting life;
and I will raise him up at the last day.'"
Sarah paused as Adam laid down his spoon, with the remark, "I reckon
them words, 'shall never hunger,' don't mean that people won't want
victuals, or that they'll always get 'em when they do want."
Sarah shook her head. "It doesn't mean that at all," she said. "I wish
I could make it all plain, for I feel it, only I can't put it in right
words, like the preachers do, or as Uncle Richard can. Only I know that
I feel something wanting, besides food and clothes and the friends at
home. When I've done wrong, I feel weighed down, as if I was carrying
a load, and I go and ask God to forgive me, for Jesus sake, and then
I get light and happy again; or I get down-hearted, thinking I've no
father, and mother isn't strong; for there are ever so many young ones
at our house. Then I bethink myself that I have a Father in heaven
that loves me, and a Friend in Jesus that will never forsake me, and
I'm cheered up again. There's something in us that hungers for better
things than meat and drink, and I expect the verse I read means that we
shall get all by going to Jesus."
"Do you believe that?" asked Adam earnestly.
"Yes, Mr. Livesey, I do. Haven't I just read His very own promise?
"'Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out.'
"And isn't it nice to-night, you know, when I think, 'Here I am brought
all of a sudden into a fresh place and among strange people, to be able
to kneel down and say, "Lord, help me to take care of these little
children, and keep all right and straight till the missis comes back?
Lord, help me to set them a good example, and to remember that Thou God
seest me."' I want to be careful of the little 'uns, and the house and
money, and keep things clean and comfortable. But if I didn't ask God
to help me, I might feel that I should like to be running off here and
there, and neglect things."
"You don't look like that sort."
"Perhaps not. But I'm no better than anybody else in these ways,
without God's help. So I go, hungering like, for bread for my soul,
to make me strong in what is right; and I'm always better for going,
because He keeps His word. And isn't it a comfort for you, now Mrs.
Livesey's had to go away for the first time, that you can ask Him to
take care of her, and know that He sees her and baby all the while,
same as He sees you and the other children at home?"
Adam did not answer, but he thought about the question. Surely it
should be a comfort, though he had never counted it one, while feeling
very lonely in Maggie's absence. He was beginning to find out that
there were many privileges open to him, of which he had never dreamed
before.
Without waiting for a reply, Sarah busied herself in clearing away the
few articles, and this done, said, "Must I make the door, or will you."
Adam said he would "fasten up," and the young woman bade him "good
night," and betook herself to the room occupied by little Maggie and
the two youngest children, the elder boys sharing their father's. But
the mind of the latter was too much occupied to allow of immediate
sleep, so he stayed downstairs for a while to think things over.