Tiger and Tom and Other Stories for Boys Part 11

But it so happened that Miss L. was pa.s.sing 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 fas.h.i.+onable amus.e.m.e.nts, to be compared with the value of a precious soul? Miss L. could only thank G.o.d 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "_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."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "_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 pa.s.sage after pa.s.sage 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 appet.i.te 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 G.o.d, 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"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 pa.s.sage 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _"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 pa.s.sage:--

"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.