Bessie in the City Page 5

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  V.

  _THE COLONEL'S STORY_

  ON Sunday morning Maggie and Bessie were made ready, and taken overto Mrs. Rush's rooms at nine o'clock, as had been arranged. As Maggiehad told Mr. Hall, Mrs. Rush could not leave the colonel to go to thechurch school; but she was very anxious to do something for the lambsof the Good Shepherd, who had so lately brought her dear husband intothe fold, and so she had begged that these little ones might come toher. Mrs. Bradford was very glad to have her children go. Bessie hadnever been to Sunday-school, and her mother thought the walk too muchfor her on a cold day; but Mrs. Rush's rooms were so near their ownhome that she could go there in almost any weather. As for Maggie, shewas rather glad not to go back to the church school. Her teacher, MissWinslow, was going away, as you know, and she did not at all like theidea of having a new one.

  "I should be so very homesick after Miss Winslow, mamma," she had said,"but now I shall not mind that so much; and then Bessie will be withme, so we will be very happy."

  Truly it was a pleasant class. Four little girls who dearly lovedeach other, and the sweet young lady who was to be their teacher.Then the room was so bright and sunny, and the colonel, to please hiswife and her little scholars, perhaps also to please himself, hadtaken a great deal of pains to have all nicely prepared for them.Four small cane-seated chairs stood side by side, and on each of themlay a Testament and a hymn-book, while on the table were a number ofpicture-cards and a neat case containing a dozen books, which were tobe their library.

  "When these are all read," said the colonel, "they shall have somemore."

  There was only one thing which seemed wrong, but that was ratherserious. The dear teacher appeared as if she would scarcely be able todo her part that morning. Mrs. Rush had taken a severe cold, and hada bad headache and a sore throat. She looked quite ill, and when Mr.Bradford, who had brought the little girls over, shook hands with her,he said, "I think you are in no fit state for teaching to-day. You hadbetter let me take the children home, and make a beginning next Sunday."

  "So I have told her," said Colonel Rush; "but she cannot bear todisappoint herself or them, and I have agreed to let her try, oncondition that, if she find it too much for her, I am to take herplace. I do not know what kind of a teacher I shall make, but, atleast, I can tell them a story."

  Mrs. Rush said she thought she should do very well; so Mr. Bradfordwent away, and in a few minutes Gracie Howard and Lily Norris came in,and they all took their seats. Colonel Rush went into the inner room,where he could not be seen, but where he could hear if he chose; andhis wife began.

  First, she made a short prayer, asking our Father in heaven to blessthem with his presence and his love, that he would give her strengthand grace to teach these lambs aright, and to them, hearts gentle andtender, and ready to learn the way of life, and that he would bringthem all at last to dwell with him in his home beyond the sky. Then sheread to them of Christ blessing little children, and, showing them acard on which a picture of this was painted, talked to them about it.

  "Now we will sing," she said, "or rather you may, for I shall not beable to help you. We will take something you all know quite well, thatthere may be no difficulty about the tune. 'I want to be an angel.' Whowill start it?"

  Any one of the children, if she had been alone, could have startedthe tune and sung it through without trouble; but with all the restwaiting, not one felt as if she could begin. They all sat looking atone another, each little girl afraid to trust her own voice.

  "Why," said Mrs. Rush, "are we to have no singing at all? Cannot one ofyou do it?"

  Then came two or three notes from the other room. Bessie took themright up, and the rest followed immediately. As soon as they werefairly started, the colonel paused, and let them sing it through bythemselves. Very nicely they did it, too; their sweet young voicesmaking pleasant music in the ears of their kind friends.

  "I want you each to learn a new hymn and a Bible verse, during theweek, to say to me next Sunday," said Mrs. Rush. "We have had noregular lesson for to-day. Can you not each remember a hymn to repeatnow?"

  "I'll say, 'Saviour, like a shepherd lead us,'" said Gracie; and sherepeated the hymn very correctly.

  Lily said, "Little travellers, Zionward;" but, as you probably knowboth of these pretty pieces, there is no need to write them here.

  Bessie said the verses about the lamb, which she had repeated toGrandpapa Duncan at Riverside.

  Maggie's turn came last. "I am going to say the very best hymn thatever was made," she said.

  "How do you know it is the very best?" said Gracie. "Maybe it isn't sopretty as the one Bessie said. I like that very much."

  "So do I; but then this one _is_ the best, for my own mamma made it,"answered Maggie, as if there could be no doubt after this that her hymnwas the best that could be written.

  Gracie opened her eyes wide, and listened with all her might. To have amamma who wrote hymns, must, she thought, be very fine, and she did notwonder that Maggie felt rather proud of it.

  "Shall I say it?" asked Maggie of Mrs. Rush.

  "Certainly," said the lady; and Maggie began.

  "Little one, what canst thou do, For the Lord who loved thee so, That he left his heavenly throne, To our sinful world came down, On the cross to faint and die, That thy ransomed soul might fly Far beyond all sin and pain, Where the Crucified doth reign?

  "Little hands, what can ye do For the Lord who loved me so?

  "Little hands fit work may find, If I have a willing mind; And whate'er the service small, If I only do it all For the sake of God's dear Son, He the simplest gift will own. Little hands, so ye may prove All my gratitude and love.

  "Little lips, what can ye do For the Lord who loved me so?

  "Let no harsh or angry word From these little lips be heard; Let them never take in vain God's most glorious, holy name Let sweet sounds of praise and joy All your childish powers employ. Little lips, so ye may prove All my gratitude and love.

  "Little feet, what can ye do For the Lord who loved me so?

  "Follow Him who day by day Guides thee on the heavenward way. Little feet, turn not aside, Tread down shame and fear and pride, Aught might tempt ye to go back From the safe and narrow track. Little feet, so ye may prove All my gratitude and love.

  "Little heart, what canst thou do For the Lord who loved me so?

  "Thou canst _love him_, little heart, Such thy blessed, happy part. In his tender arms may rest, Lying there content and blest. This is all he asks of thee, Little heart, oh! lovest thou me? Little heart, so thou mayst prove All my gratitude and love.

  "Little one, this thou canst do For the Lord who loved thee so. Little hands and little feet Still may render service meet; Little lips and little heart In such glorious work bear part. Little one, thus thou mayst prove All thy gratitude and love."

  "Oh, how nice!" said Gracie; and Lily said the same thing.

  "And mamma is going to make music for it," said Bessie, "so we can singit."

  "Then we will all learn it," said Mrs. Rush. "We shall have a pianohere next Sunday, and there need be no more trouble about our tunes.Now I will tell you a little story."

  But when she began to talk again, she was so hoarse that she couldscarcely speak, and the children saw that her throat was very painful.

  "Don't try to tell us; you feel too sick," said Bessie. "We'll just sitstill, and be as quite as mices."

  Mrs. Rush smiled at her, and tried once more to go on, but just thenthe sound of the colonel's crutches was heard, and the next moment hecame in the room.

  "I cannot let you go on, Marion," said he. "I will take your place. Canyou put up with a story from me, little ones, while my wife rests? Sheis able to do no more for you to-day."

  Put up with a story from h
im! That was a curious question from thecolonel, who was such a famous story-teller. They were all quite readyto listen to anything he might tell them, though they felt very sorryfor dear Mrs. Rush, who, seeming rather glad to give her place toher husband, went to the other side of the room and took the greatarm-chair, while the colonel settled himself on the sofa.

  Bessie looked at him very wistfully.

  "Well, what is it, my pet?" he asked.

  "Don't you think you'd be more comfor'ble if I was on the sofa by you?"she asked. "I am sure I would."

  "Indeed, I should," he answered, holding out his hand with a smile, andin a moment she was in her favorite seat beside him.

  He told the others to stand around him, and commenced his story.

  "A little child sat upon a green sunny bank, singing to himself in alow, sweet voice. It was not easy to understand the words of the song;indeed, there did not seem to be much wisdom in them. It was as if hewere only pouring out in music the joy of his own young, happy heart.

  "It was a lovely place. The bank on which the child rested was coveredwith a soft green moss, while around him bloomed sweet flowers, blueviolets peeping up from their nest of leaves, and filling the air withtheir delicious scent, pure lilies of the valley with their snowybells, and the pale pink primroses. Overhead grew tall trees, shadinghim from the rays of the sun which might else have beat too strongly onhis tender head; and among their branches the soft winds whispered andthe birds sang joyfully. At the foot of the bank was a path borderedwith lovely ferns and grasses and flowers, such as grew above; andbeyond this again ran a little stream sparkling in the sunlight, andgurgling and rippling over and around the stones and pebbles which layin its way. And all--the boy, the birds, the whispering leaves, thesweet flowers, the running brook--seemed joining in one hymn of praiseto Him who made them and gave them life.

  "On the other side of the brook, and in a line with the narrow path,ran a broad road, on which also grew flowers gayer and brighter thanthose whose home was upon the bank or on the path; but when one camenearer, or tried to pluck them, they were found to be full of thorns,or turned to dust and ashes in the hand.

  "Both road and path _seemed_ to lead to the mountains, which lay inthe distance; but it was not really so. There were many windings andturnings in both, so that one who travelled upon them could not see farbefore him. Sometimes they would lead over a hill, sometimes around itsfoot, sometimes through a forest, sometimes through a bog or stream.Those who became puzzled upon the broad road would lose their way andcould seldom find either track again; for there was nothing to guidethem, and they would go deeper and deeper into the dark woods or thetreacherous bog, or perhaps fall into some deep pit, and so they werenever seen again. But if one who travelled upon the narrow path wasin doubt whether he were right or no, he had only to lift his eyes,and the true way would be pointed out to him; for all along wereguide-posts, and upon them were golden letters which shone so brightlythat he who ran might read; and they told him which turning he musttake. By the side of the path there ran also a silver thread, and hewho kept fast hold of this could seldom or never go astray; for if hewas about to turn aside, fine points or thorns would rise up in thethread and, pricking him, bid him take heed to his steps. But howeverthe path might wind, in and out, now here, now there, it still ledonward to the mountains whose tops were to be seen in a straight linewith the child's home; and he who followed it could not fail to comethere.

  "The child was still singing, when a stranger came up this path. Hestood still and looked at the boy with a smile, as though the simplesong pleased him.

  "'What is thy name, little one?' he asked.

  "'Benito,' answered the child.

  "'Ah! thou art well named, for truly thou art a blessed child. What alovely home thou hast!'

  "'But this is not my home,' said Benito. 'My Father placed me here fora little while, but my home lies far away on the mountains yonder wherehe is. There is a beautiful city there, where my Elder Brother has goneto prepare a place for me. Stay;' and the child put his hand into hisbosom and drew out a glass; 'look through this, and then thou wilt seethe beautiful city; thou mayest even see my Father's house. This glassis called Faith, and my Brother bade me look through it when my feetwere tired and my heart was faint.'

  "The stranger took it from his hand, and looking through it, gave aglad cry of surprise; then took from his own breast a glass like theboy's, but not so fresh and bright.

  "'I, too, have a glass,' he said; 'but it is not so clear as thine.It is my own fault, for it needs constant use to keep it pure andundimmed, and I have not brought it forth as often as I should havedone. But now the beautiful sight which I have seen through thine hastaught me what I lose by letting it lie hidden away. And when art thouto go to thy Father's house?'

  "'Now,' said Benito, 'for the message has come for me, and I am tostart to-day upon the very path on which thou standest.'

  "'But it will be a hard way for thee,' said the stranger, in a pityingvoice. 'I am taller than thee, and can look farther ahead, and I seerocks and stones which will hurt those tender feet, and hills whichwill be difficult for thee to climb, and streams whose waves will bealmost too much for thee. Wait till thou art a little stronger and moreable to travel.'

  "'I cannot wait,' said Benito; 'I have heard my Father's voice, and Imust not stay.'

  "'And hast thou food and drink for the journey?'

  "'My Father has promised that I shall be fed with the bread of life,and drink from living waters.'

  "'But that white robe of thine will become soiled with the dust andheat of the day.'

  "'This white robe is called Innocence,' said the child. 'My Fatherclothed me in it when he left me here; and if it should become spottedby the way, he has said that it shall be washed white again before I gointo his presence.'

  "'Truly thou hast made good use of thy glass,' said the stranger; 'andthine own courage puts my fears for thee to shame. I, too, am bound forthe mountains, for thy Father is my Father, thy home my home. Come,shall we journey there together? We may perhaps aid one another. Ican help thee over the rough places; and thou mayest now and then letme take a look through thy glass till mine own is brighter with morefrequent use.'

  "'I will go with thee,' said Benito, who liked the kind, gentle face ofthe stranger; and coming down from his mossy seat, he put his hand inthat of his new friend, who told him his name was Experience.

  "'Men call me a hard teacher, my child,' he said; 'I trust I may begentle with thee. I shall not be able to be always at thy side, for Imay have work to do which thou canst not share, and I may leave theefor a time; but I will always await thee or follow on after thee.'

  "Experience was a grave-looking man, and his face had a sad and wearylook as though he longed for home and rest. But he had always a smilefor the child when he turned towards him. His dress was of gray, andabout his neck he wore a chain of golden beads. So they journeyed ontogether, the man and the boy; each with a hand upon the silver threadwhich ran by the wayside.

  "'What is that chain about thy neck?' asked Benito.

  "'It is the gift I carry to our Father,' said Experience, looking downwith a smile at the chain.

  "'I have no gift,' said the child; 'I did not know that I should needone. My Elder Brother told me he had paid the price which should giveme entrance to the beautiful city.'

  "'He has done so,' said the other, 'and though thou goest with emptyhands, thou shalt have as loving a welcome as if thou hadst all thewealth of the universe to offer. But still, one would wish to have somegift to lay at our Father's feet. Perhaps thou mayest find some jewelon the road. I had nothing when I started. These beads have been givento me, one by one, by those whom I have helped or taught by the way;for, little one, thou art not the first whose hand has been laid inmine; and I have strung them together as a fit offering for him to whomwe go.'

  "'I have no bead to give,' said Benito, sadly.

  "'No matter; that white robe of thine gives thee a claim upon my c
are,which I could not set aside if I would. Cheer up, sweet child. If ajewel fell in thy way, and thou didst not stop to pick it up, that thoumightst carry it to our Father, then indeed there would be reason tofear his displeasure, but if thou findest none, he will ask none.'

  "So Benito was comforted, and once more went on his way rejoicing.His sweet talk cheered the older pilgrim, and every now and thenthey would both break out into songs of praise and joy. Experiencehelped the little one over many rough places, for though the path wasat first easy and pleasant, it soon grew hard and stony. Then theypassed through a dark forest, where Benito could scarcely have kepthis feet but for the help of his older and wiser friend, who took himin his arms until they were again upon the open road. But even amongthe brambles and thickets of the forest the way was plain, if theybut looked up at the guide-posts; for the greater the darkness, thebrighter shone the letters.

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