Bessie in the City

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

There was only one thing which seemed wrong, but that was rather serious. The dear teacher appeared as if she would scarcely be able to do her part that morning. Mrs. Rush had taken a severe cold, and had a 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 had better let me take the children home, and make a beginning next Sunday."

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

Mrs. Rush said she thought she should do very well; so Mr. Bradford went 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; and his wife began.

First, she made a short prayer, asking our Father in heaven to bless them with his presence and his love, that he would give her strength and grace to teach these lambs aright, and to them, hearts gentle and tender, and ready to learn the way of life, and that he would bring them all at last to dwell with him in his home beyond the sky. Then she read to them of Christ blessing little children, and, showing them a card 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 be able to help you. We will take something you all know quite well, that there may be no difficulty about the tune. 'I want to be an angel.' Who will start it?"

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

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

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

"I want you each to learn a new hymn and a Bible verse, during the week, to say to me next Sunday," said Mrs. Rush. "We have had no regular lesson for to-day. Can you not each remember a hymn to repeat now?"

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

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

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

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

"How do you know it is the very best?" said Gracie. "Maybe it isn't so pretty 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 hymn was the best that could be written.

Gracie opened her eyes wide, and listened with all her might. To have a mamma who wrote hymns, must, she thought, be very fine, and she did not wonder 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 flyFar beyond all sin and pain,Where the Crucified doth reign?"Little hands, what can ye doFor 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 allFor the sake of God's dear Son,He the simplest gift will own.Little hands, so ye may proveAll my gratitude and love."Little lips, what can ye doFor the Lord who loved me so?"Let no harsh or angry wordFrom these little lips be heard;Let them never take in vainGod's most glorious, holy nameLet sweet sounds of praise and joyAll your childish powers employ.Little lips, so ye may proveAll my gratitude and love."Little feet, what can ye doFor the Lord who loved me so?"Follow Him who day by dayGuides thee on the heavenward way.Little feet, turn not aside,Tread down shame and fear and pride,Aught might tempt ye to go backFrom the safe and narrow track.Little feet, so ye may proveAll my gratitude and love."Little heart, what canst thou doFor 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 proveAll my gratitude and love."Little one, this thou canst doFor the Lord who loved thee so.Little hands and little feetStill may render service meet;Little lips and little heartIn such glorious work bear part.Little one, thus thou mayst proveAll 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 sing it."

"Then we will all learn it," said Mrs. Rush. "We shall have a piano here 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 could scarcely 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 sit still, and be as quite as mices."

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

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

Put up with a story from him! That was a curious question from the colonel, who was such a famous story-teller. They were all quite ready to listen to anything he might tell them, though they felt very sorry for dear Mrs. Rush, who, seeming rather glad to give her place to her husband, went to the other side of the room and took the great arm-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, and in 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 a low, 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 he were 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 covered with a soft green moss, while around him bloomed sweet flowers, blue violets peeping up from their nest of leaves, and filling the air with their delicious scent, pure lilies of the valley with their snowy bells, and the pale pink primroses. Overhead grew tall trees, shading him from the rays of the sun which might else have beat too strongly on his tender head; and among their branches the soft winds whispered and the birds sang joyfully. At the foot of the bank was a path bordered with lovely ferns and grasses and flowers, such as grew above; and beyond this again ran a little stream sparkling in the sunlight, and gurgling and rippling over and around the stones and pebbles which lay in its way. And all – the boy, the birds, the whispering leaves, the sweet flowers, the running brook – seemed joining in one hymn of praise to 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 than those whose home was upon the bank or on the path; but when one came nearer, 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 in the distance; but it was not really so. There were many windings and turnings in both, so that one who travelled upon them could not see far before him. Sometimes they would lead over a hill, sometimes around its foot, sometimes through a forest, sometimes through a bog or stream. Those who became puzzled upon the broad road would lose their way and could seldom find either track again; for there was nothing to guide them, and they would go deeper and deeper into the dark woods or the treacherous bog, or perhaps fall into some deep pit, and so they were never seen again. But if one who travelled upon the narrow path was in 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 were guide-posts, and upon them were golden letters which shone so brightly that he who ran might read; and they told him which turning he must take. By the side of the path there ran also a silver thread, and he who kept fast hold of this could seldom or never go astray; for if he was about to turn aside, fine points or thorns would rise up in the thread and, pricking him, bid him take heed to his steps. But however the path might wind, in and out, now here, now there, it still led onward to the mountains whose tops were to be seen in a straight line with the child's home; and he who followed it could not fail to come there.

"The child was still singing, when a stranger came up this path. He stood still and looked at the boy with a smile, as though the simple song 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 a lovely home thou hast!'

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

"The stranger took it from his hand, and looking through it, gave a glad cry of surprise; then took from his own breast a glass like the boy'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 and undimmed, and I have not brought it forth as often as I should have done. But now the beautiful sight which I have seen through thine has taught me what I lose by letting it lie hidden away. And when art thou to go to thy Father's house?'

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

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

"'I cannot wait,' said Benito; 'I have heard my Father's voice, and I must 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 and heat of the day.'

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

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

"'I will go with thee,' said Benito, who liked the kind, gentle face of the stranger; and coming down from his mossy seat, he put his hand in that 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 be gentle with thee. I shall not be able to be always at thy side, for I may have work to do which thou canst not share, and I may leave thee for 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 weary look as though he longed for home and rest. But he had always a smile for the child when he turned towards him. His dress was of gray, and about his neck he wore a chain of golden beads. So they journeyed on together, the man and the boy; each with a hand upon the silver thread which 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 down with a smile at the chain.

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

"'He has done so,' said the other, 'and though thou goest with empty hands, thou shalt have as loving a welcome as if thou hadst all the wealth of the universe to offer. But still, one would wish to have some gift to lay at our Father's feet. Perhaps thou mayest find some jewel on the road. I had nothing when I started. These beads have been given to 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 in mine; and I have strung them together as a fit offering for him to whom we go.'

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

"'No matter; that white robe of thine gives thee a claim upon my care, which I could not set aside if I would. Cheer up, sweet child. If a jewel fell in thy way, and thou didst not stop to pick it up, that thou mightst carry it to our Father, then indeed there would be reason to fear 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 then they would both break out into songs of praise and joy. Experience helped the little one over many rough places, for though the path was at first easy and pleasant, it soon grew hard and stony. Then they passed through a dark forest, where Benito could scarcely have kept his feet but for the help of his older and wiser friend, who took him in his arms until they were again upon the open road. But even among the brambles and thickets of the forest the way was plain, if they but looked up at the guide-posts; for the greater the darkness, the brighter shone the letters.

VI.

THE STORY CONTINUED

"THEY journeyed on till they came to a grotto built upon the side of the path, and Experience said, 'It is now the seventh hour, and we may turn in here for food and drink.'

"So they went into the grotto, where were many other pilgrims, and were fed with the bread of life, and drank of living waters, so that they were strengthened for the rest of the journey. And this food they received from the hands of two soldiers, – an old man and a young one, – both of whom were in shining armor, with a white cross upon the shoulder, and upon the breast of each hung a string of jewels, so bright that the eye could scarcely rest upon them.

"'Did they find those jewels by the way?' Benito asked of his friend.

"'Yes,' answered Experience. 'The jewels are souls that have been saved by the food which our Father taught these soldiers to serve.'

"'And see,' said the child, 'there is another pilgrim with a shining star about his neck.'

"'He started upon his journey with much gold,' said Experience. 'And he made good use of it; building such grottos as this, where tired pilgrims might rest and be fed, and others where the sick and lame might be healed. And he did this, not for his own glory, but for love of Him whose children he rejoiced to help. So the gold has come back to him in the form of this star, which he may offer to his Master.'

"And as the little one looked around among the pilgrims, he saw that most of them had some gift which they were taking to their Father; and his own heart grew sad again, for he had as yet found none, though he had looked carefully by the way.

"When the seventh hour had gone by, the pilgrims all went forth on their journey again. Some kept near Benito and Experience, others passed far ahead, and some few were left behind. But the two soldiers were always near; for as Experience walked slowly, so that he might help the little one whose hand lay in his, so the younger soldier also held back, that he might lend his arm to aid the feeble steps of the older.

"They now came to a black bog where the guide-post pointed to a narrow bridge which led them safely over it. But from the midst of the bog came terrible cries. 'Come and help us, for we have lost our way; and if we are not set right, we shall never reach our home.'

"Then the two soldiers said they must go and help the poor lost ones, and Experience said he would go with them.

"'For the path is pretty plain for some distance now,' he said to Benito, 'and I think thou couldst walk by thyself for a while. Only from time to time look at the guide-posts, and be sure to keep fast hold upon the silver thread.' Then he left him to go with the soldiers.

"So the boy went on by himself, watching carefully for the jewel he hoped to find. And as he looked, a poor lame bird hopped upon his path. The broad road was very near to the narrow one in this spot, and walking upon it were many children and older people. These children had long been calling to Benito, telling him to come where the ground was soft and easy to walk upon, and where he might play all the day long if he chose. But Benito would not listen, for Experience had told him to close his ears; and besides he had the command of his Elder Brother that he should set his feet on the narrow path.

"The bird was a poor, half-starved looking thing, with a broken wing; for these cruel children had caught it, and after teasing and tormenting it for a long while, had stoned it. It had at last escaped them, and fluttering across the stream which divided the roads, fell at Benito's feet.

"The boy raised it gently, bound up the broken wing, and gathering some of the grass which grew by the wayside, made for the bird a soft nest. Then taking from his bosom a piece of bread, given to him by the old soldier lest he should be hungry, he fed it with some crumbs, brought it water from the stream, and left it there in comfort and safety.

"On he went, wishing for his friends, and still looking for the jewel. Suddenly he saw before him a beautiful butterfly, with wings of crimsom, blue, and gold. It flew gayly about him, now lighting on his shoulder, now circling round his head; but never coming where he might lay his hand upon it.

"'What a lovely thing!' he said to himself. 'If I may but catch it, I will take it to my Father.'

"The butterfly lighted upon a flower, and the child sprang after it. Away it flew to another, and he followed, still to miss it. On they went, from flower to flower, until it reached the stream, and flying across, lit upon a showy tulip, just upon the farther side. Benito hesitated and drew back, for the insect was now upon the forbidden road, and he feared to disobey. But there was the butterfly fluttering its lovely wings in the sunlight, the stream looked narrow here, he could reach the prize, and be back in an instant. He should be so glad to show it to his friends when they joined him again. As he thought thus, he loosened a little his grasp upon the silver thread, and instantly small prickles started up upon it, reminding him of his duty; but he looked again at the butterfly, and then, forgetting all else, let go his hold altogether, sprang across the stream, and once more reached forth his hand. Again the butterfly fluttered off a little farther, this time burying itself in the very heart of a lovely flower.

"'Ah, I have thee now,' said Benito, and, springing forward, his hand closed upon the blossom. But he instantly drew it back, crying aloud with pain, for sharp nettles ran themselves into his tender palm, and the butterfly suddenly changed into an ugly creeping thing. He heard around him mocking laughter and loud, angry cries, and, terrified, he turned to go back. But he found himself in a bog where his feet sank deeper and deeper, and his white dress became soiled and spotted. When he looked towards the stream, its waters had become black and muddy, and a fog hung over it so that he could not see the narrow path. He drew his glass from his bosom, but alas it was so clouded that he could not see through it, and then he cried aloud in his pain and grief. Suddenly there came a voice from beyond the mist, —

"'Step boldly into the stream, my child, these are the healing waters of Repentance and Confession, and thou shalt pass safely through them to the true way once more.'

"Benito hesitated no longer, but plunged bravely into the muddy stream. And behold the mist lifted at once, the waters became clear, and he saw upon the opposite bank the older soldier, who held out his hand to him. The child grasped it, and in another moment, he stood safe, but weak and trembling beside his friend; and as he looked down in fear and distress, lest his dress were not fit for such company, he saw it was white and pure again, cleansed by the waters through which he had passed.

"Then came Experience and bound up the little bleeding hands, and replacing one upon the silver thread, took the other in his own.

"'I wished to carry the beautiful insect to my Father, that he might know I thought of him on the way,' sobbed the child.

"'That butterfly is called Temptation, beloved,' said the old soldier, 'and could not fail to lead thee astray if thou didst pursue her. She has many ways of deceiving those whom she would lead into sin; and, seeing the strong wish of thy young heart to gain some gift which thou mightest carry to thy Father, she took that very means to draw thee aside from the path of duty.'

"The little one sighed, for his heart was sad, not as much for the pain he had suffered as for his bitter disappointment. After a little, he thought of his glass, and drawing it forth, found it bright and undimmed as it had been when he started. Then he grew happy again, and was going on his way singing, when he saw a boy, smaller than himself, sitting by the wayside, weeping.

"Benito ran up to him. 'What aileth thee?' he asked.

"'Ah!' said the boy, 'my sister and I were going home, hand in hand, and we were so happy, for we loved one another dearly; but a shining angel came and carried her from my sight, and now I am alone.'

"Then Benito drew the other's head upon his breast, and kissed him and wept with him, and spoke tender words to him, so that the child was comforted. Then they went on together, but they had gone but a few steps when the shining angel came again, and taking Benito's new friend in his arms, carried him away also. He smiled sweetly on Benito as he passed out of sight, and our young pilgrim felt a great joy in his heart to think that he had given comfort to the little stranger.

"A short distance farther on, the travellers overtook an old woman, bending beneath the weight of a heavy burden which she carried. She seemed very feeble, and Benito was grieved for her as he saw how she tottered and how hard it was for her to bear up beneath her load. She was faint and hungry too, and at every step it appeared as if she must sink down.