[Illustration: FRONTISPIECE. Page 83.]
INGLESIDE;
OR
WITHOUT CHRIST AND WITH HIM.
BY
MADELINE LESLIE,
AUTHOR OF "TIM THE SCISSORS-GRINDER,"
"SISTERS AT SERVICE,"
"THE HOME SERIES," ETC., ETC.
"To be in Christ is the secret of our life; to be for Christ,
the meaning of our activity; to be with Christ is the hope
of our glory." Anthony W. Thorold.
SECOND EDITION.
London:
HODDER AND STOUGHTON,
27, PATERNOSTER ROW.
MDCCCI.XXXVIII.
Printed by Hazell, Watson, & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury•
PREFATORY NOTE.
The object of this book is to prove, from a series of scenes drawn
from real life, the misery of those, whether rich or poor, who live
without Christ, and the peace and comfort of those in whom the spirit
of Christ dwells as actuating principles of duty.
The scenes were selected by the author from a number, either falling
under her own observation, or narrated by friends who vouched for
their truthfulness. They are not the most wonderful thus brought to
her notice, but were chosen because they more plainly prove the
object referred to.
The devotion of time and money, by a young lady described here under
the name of Marion Howard, is not fiction. The eccentricities of
Mr. Regy, the sorrows of poor Esther, are facts. The singular
circumstances connected with the brother and sister from a foreign
land, inmates at the same time of the Home for the Sick, though
unknown to each other, were given to the public at the time, and
excited great interest for the unfortunate strangers. Indeed, were
we privileged to read the record of cases in our hospitals, or the
diary of our missionaries among the poor and distressed, we should
find that in our very midst scenes so wonderful are occurring that
fiction is left far in the background.
My little book is sent forth on the same mission as one of its
predecessors, "Tim the Scissors-Grinder." That it may meet with the
same success in winning souls for the Master is the earnest prayer of
THE AUTHOR.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
PART I.
CHAPTER
I. THE FIRST SERMON
II. THE NEW PASTOR
III. THE HOME FOR THE SICK
IV. ETHEL AND HER PASTOR
V. A HAPPY CHRISTIAN
VI. THE MUSIC TEACHER
VII. GAMES AND ENTERTAINMENTS
VIII. PLEASANT PROJECTS
IX. THE DOCTOR'S DIAGNOSIS
X. A RAY OF HOPE
XI. AN APPEAL FOR SYMPATHY
XII. MARION'S SICKNESS
XIII. ANNIE'S LETTER
XIV. THE LOST PACKAGE
XV. A SAD STORY
XVI. STELLA'S CONFESSION
XVII. THE CRIPPLED BOY
XVIII. A MYSTERY SOLVED
XIX. TEARS OF REPENTANCE
XX. LETTERS FROM THE PASTOR
PART II.
CHAPTER
I. GRANTBURY AND THE FIRST CHURCH
II. VISIT TO INGLESIDE
III. WITHOUT CHRIST
IV. WITH CHRIST
V. HOME IN THE STABLE LOFT
VI. THE SIMPLE PRAYER
VII. ESTHER'S FORGIVENESS
VIII. GAMES AND ENTERTAINMENTS
IX. TRUE FRIENDSHIP
X. NEDDY CARTER'S MISSION
XI. MANY BLESSINGS
XII. A WONDERFUL DISCOVERY
XIII. RECONCILIATION AND HAPPINESS
XIV. CHRISTMAS DAY
XV. OUR INGLESIDE
INGLESIDE.
PART I.
CHAPTER I.
THE FIRST SERMON.
"WELL! well!" exclaimed Mr. Asbury, after a preliminary "Hem!"
"I know what you would say, pa," interrupted Mrs. Asbury, in a
deprecating tone. "But it isn't fair to judge so soon. It's a trying
situation for a young clergyman. If it was our Gardner, now, we
should want people to remember that it isn't easy to stand up before
strangers and preach one's first sermon."
"I shan't be a minister, ma; I've made up my mind on that." Joe
looked at his sister, who generally was not backward in expressing an
opinion. Now she only said, as though speaking to herself, "I wonder
what Marion would say."
The family had just returned from morning service, where the new
pastor for the first time had met the people. Aunt Thankful, as she
was called, had taken off her bonnet and shawl, folding the latter
carefully in the creases; now, with a peremptory wave of her hand to
enjoin silence, she said,—
"There's either sorrer or there's sin behind him. I'm inclined to
think it's sorrer. It's Scripter, you know, to let charity have its
perfect work."
The door-bell at this moment ringing, Aunt Thankful, who was passing
Sunday with her friends, seized her bonnet and shawl and left the
room. Annie started for the door, to answer the summons, while Joe
opened his library book and began to read.
The sound of a manly but nervous step in the chamber above called
forth a sigh from Mr. Asbury, followed by the words,—
"I'm dreadfully afraid, wife, we've made a mistake."
"Don't look so melancholy, pa," urged Annie, returning, "or Mr. Angus
will think we are talking of him. He asked what time we dined, and
said he would like to go to his chamber for a few minutes."
While he paces back and forth in the apartment assigned him, I will
explain that the parish to which Mr. Asbury belonged had lost their
pastor by death six months before the opening of our story; that a
succession of candidates had been heard, discussed, and dismissed;
that the people, wearied out by their own criticisms, were beginning
to scatter; that at length they conceived the idea of sending a
Committee on an exploring tour, which Committee, going to hear a city
preacher, heard in his place a young man lately graduated from the
divinity school; that they were so impressed with his heartiness in
his work they requested an introduction and invited him to add one
more to the number of competing candidates; that he politely but
firmly declined, not believing, this the proper method of obtaining a
clergyman that, after making inquiries of his Professors and others,
and receiving instructions to go forward from the church at home, the
Committee did proceed to call the Rev. Mr. Angus to be their pastor;
that, after several weeks of earnest prayer for guidance, he did
accept their call, the public services of his ordination to take
place the week following his first sermon.
His arrival in the town, which I shall call Grantbury, late on
Saturday evening, had given the family little opportunity for forming
an opinion of the new pastor; that he was tall and vigorous in frame,
with a countenance sad rather than smiling, eyes looking far away, a
sweet, musical voice with a sad note running through it, was all that
they knew of him until they took their seats in church directly in
front of the pulpit. The sermon was on Christ's invitation to the
weary and heavy laden to come to him for rest. In the most graphic
language he depicted the condition of these poor, sad, weary
sufferers, bearing their heavy burden of sin and sorrow, longing to
be rid of it, but knowing not how to throw it off, groaning in secret
places, with an abiding dread of what the future might bring to them.
He brought tears to many eyes unused to weep, by the vividness with
which he portrayed the soul in darkness, but longing fox the light,
empty, void of faith in God or man, shut up in a prison of gloomy
thought and forebodings, every day verging toward the frightful chasm
of despair.
Listening to the preacher's voice trembling with pathos, no one could
doubt that he well understood by personal experience the condition of
those to whom our blessed Lord extended this gracious invitation.
Every eye was fixed on his, every heart followed him; but when,
turning from the weary and heavy laden, he pointed to the One who
could deliver them from all their wretchedness, the note of sadness
still lingered. Instead of the triumphant ring of victory from the
freed soul, the tone of peace and rest from those delivered from
their heavy load, there was an unexplained want of harmony between
the manner and voice of the speaker and the subject of which he was
treating. A general restlessness among the audience proved their
disappointment.
The sermon closed with a passionate appeal to all present to accept
Christ's offer of pardon, peace, and rest. The people rose to receive
the benediction, half wondering at the sadness which oppressed them.
Under other circumstances they would have crowded around the new
pastor, offering their hands in token of their welcome. They had
been prepared to receive him with enthusiasm. The weeks of suspense
during which they were waiting his reply to their call had deepened
their anxiety to obtain the services of one so highly recommended,
but a weight had fallen on their spirits, and they silently left the
church, a few casting glances back to the pulpit, where sat a
figure prone and abject, the face buried in the hands.
So it happened that only the Committee who had heard him in the city
waited to speak to him, and at length accompanied him, almost in
silence, to the house of Mr. Asbury, where he was to remain until
after his ordination.