Ella Clinton; or, By Their Fruits Ye Shall Know Them

"There is another thing I want you to think of, Ella," said Miss Layton. "Our little world, compared with the millions of other worlds, is but as one leaf compared to all the leaves on all the trees of the forest, or as one grain of sand to all that are on the sea-shore; and yet the great God, who is the Creator and Ruler of all these mighty worlds, sent his own Son down to our little earth to suffer, and bleed and die to save us, who are rebels against him our Creator and lawful sovereign. 'When we were yet without strength, in due time Christ died for the ungodly. God commendeth his love toward us in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.' What amazing love and condescension! With what wonder and astonishment must the angels have beheld it! And now, Ella, is it not strange that any of us should be guilty of such base ingratitude, as to refuse to love this precious Saviour, who has shown such wondrous love and condescension toward us? How can you refuse to give him your heart now– to forsake your sins and devote your life to his service? It is a reasonable service, a service he has a right to demand of each one of us. And it is a delightful service; his yoke is easy, and his burden light."

Things now went on much more smoothly with Ella; Miss Layton's presence being a restraint upon her aunt as well as upon Ella. Miss Prudence still scolded, for she had indulged the habit so long that it had become second nature to her to do so, but not so continually as formerly, and Ella bore it more patiently.

"How do you get along with this child at school, Miss Layton?" asked aunt Prudence one day. "Don't you find her rather unmanageable sometimes? Mr. Burton used to make great complaints of her, and I frequently have much trouble with her myself."

"No, Miss Clinton, I have had very little trouble with Ella. She is always obedient, and though she is careless and quick-tempered, I find that when reasoned with kindly, she is always sorry for her faults and anxious to try to do better."

"Well, I don't see why it is that she behaves so much better for strangers than for her own aunt. I'm sure I've tried my best to make a good child of her, but whenever I reprove her, instead of seeming sorry for her faults, she is very apt to fly into a passion. You've no idea how bad she can be, for she has behaved remarkably well – that is, for her– since you've been in the house. And yet I can't think it's altogether because you are a stranger, for she must have got pretty well acquainted with you by this time, going to school to you every day, and she didn't mind showing out her badness to Mr. Burton just the same as to me."

"No, Miss Clinton, I don't think it is because I am a stranger; I think Ella is a very affectionate child, and can be very easily ruled by kindness."

"But you scold her, don't you?"

"I do not speak to her in an angry, impatient way. If you speak to a child in the loud, angry tones of passion, it rouses the same feelings in his breast, and instead of making him penitent on account of his misconduct, excites a feeling of rebellion against your authority. But if you speak mildly and kindly, in a way that shows him that you do it for his good, and not because his faults annoy and provoke you, you will generally find your admonitions have a very different effect."

"Well, I don't know; but I think when children are bad, they ought to be scolded; and whipped too, sometimes."

"They certainly ought to be reproved, Miss Clinton, but not scolded; at least not in my sense of the word. Some people, I believe, include all reproof under that head, but when I speak of scolding, I only mean loud and angry, or fretful and unreasonable fault-finding, and that, I really believe, never benefitted anybody."

"And you don't whip, either, I suppose, for most folks think that's worse than scolding."

"Then, there I differ from most folks," said Miss Layton, smiling. "I don't pretend to be wiser than Solomon, who said, 'Foolishness is bound up in the heart of a child, but the rod of correction shall drive it far from him;' and again, 'Chasten thy son while there is hope, and let not thy soul spare for his crying.' I think it is sometimes necessary to use the rod, though not very often; but when all other means have failed to make a child obey, I do not hesitate to resort to that. But different dispositions require different management. Ella, I think, can be most easily ruled through her affections; and I had much rather have the management of such a child, than of one who requires severity. Only show her that you love her, Miss Clinton, as I have no doubt you do, and I think you will find her easily managed."

"Love her! to be sure I do. She's the only near relation I have in the world. There was quite a large family of us, but James and I were all that lived to grow up; I was the eldest, and he the youngest, and I thought the world and all of my brother; but I never wanted him to get married, for I couldn't bear to think he should ever care more for anybody else than he did for me. However, I think now it's just as well he did, for though Ella does plague me half to death sometimes, I wouldn't be without her for a great deal."

"If you would just let Ella see, by your manner, that you do feel such a strong affection for her, I am quite sure you would find her much more manageable."

"Oh well, Miss Layton, people must act according to their dispositions; it never was my way to show my feelings, and I'm too old to alter my ways now."

"I think we should never consider ourselves too old to alter for the better," said Miss Layton, gently. "We are commanded to be 'kindly affectioned one toward another,' and parents are cautioned not to 'provoke their children to anger, lest they be discouraged.'"

Miss Layton was an earnest Christian; one whose constant endeavour it was to glorify her Father in heaven by her daily walk, and to bring souls to Christ. She deeply felt her responsibility as a teacher; she remembered that she was making impressions on those young minds and hearts, not only for time, but for eternity; and she felt that, when she had done all in her power for the intellectual improvement of her pupils, she had performed but half her duty; for she considered the salvation of their souls of greater importance than anything else, and felt that her first duty was to lead them to the Saviour; and not only did she pray with, and for them, but she embraced every opportunity to converse with them on the importance of the 'one thing needful,' the necessity of repentance, and faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. And her labours were not without fruit. One evening, Mary Young lingered behind her young companions, and when Miss Layton kindly inquired if she wished to speak to her, she burst into tears, exclaiming, "O Miss Layton, I am such a sinner! what shall I do?"

"'If any man sin, we have an Advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous.' 'Who his ownself bare our sins in his own body on the tree.' 'This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.' 'Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.' These are the answers given you in God's own word, Mary."

"But are they meant for me, Miss Layton?"

"Surely, Mary; why not for you as well as for another?"

"Because I am so very wicked, and have put off repentance so long?"

"Jesus said, 'I came not to call the righteous but sinners to repentance,' and, 'Him that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out.'"

"But, O Miss Layton, I am so vile, so wicked, I've sinned against him so long and so often, that I'm not fit to come to him, I don't dare to come."

"I would not have you think any better of yourself, Mary. You are just as vile and sinful as you have said – yes, even far more wicked than you think – but it was just such as you that Jesus came to call. Just such ruined, helpless, undone sinners; and the more you feel your sinfulness, the more conscious you are of your lost and ruined condition, the more you feel your need of him, the more willing he is to receive you."

"But I am so wicked, my heart is so hard, and when I kneel down to pray, and remember what a holy God I am going to speak to, and that he sees my heart and knows how hard and full of sin it is, I am afraid to say one word. I don't dare to pray, for it seems like mocking him."

"You might well be afraid to come, if you had to come in your own name, Mary, but even you may dare to come in the name of Jesus, since he tells us that it was just such sinners he came to seek and to save; and you need not fear to come, weak and helpless as you are, for does he not say, 'Let him take hold of my strength that he may make peace with me, and he shall make peace with me?' You have no strength to help yourself, you must just look to Jesus. Take hold of Christ."

"O Miss Layton, dare I come just as I am – with such a hard heart? Must I not wait till I feel my sinfulness more? I don't feel half so sorry for my sins as I ought to."

"Come just as you are, Mary; you will never grow any better by staying away; and do you expect to make yourself more acceptable to God by continuing longer in rebellion against him – by continuing to refuse to obey his command, 'My son, give me thine heart?'"

"But my heart is so very hard, so unfeeling; it seems to me that I ought to feel more sorry for my sins."

"I don't deny, Mary, that you ought indeed to feel more sorrow on account of your sins, but that need not keep you from Christ; if you wait for more feeling, you will never get it. Come now, just as you are. 'Now is the accepted time, now is the day of salvation.'"

"But it seems to me there never was such a sinner; will Jesus receive me?"

"He says, 'Look unto me and be ye saved, all ye ends of the earth.' He says, 'I will be merciful to their unrighteousness, and their sins and iniquities will I remember no more.' And again, 'Him that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out.' Do you doubt his word?"

"O Miss Layton, what must I do?"

"Just go and tell God what you have been telling me, that you are a lost, ruined, helpless, undone sinner, utterly unable to help yourself, or make yourself any better; cast yourself entirely upon his mercy, pleading for salvation only through the blood and merits of Jesus Christ. He will not reject you; you need not fear, for none ever came to him in the appointed way and was refused. 'I will in no wise cast out.' You have the word of him who cannot lie."

"When shall I do it, Miss Layton?"

"Now; this moment; the present only is yours."

They knelt down, and most earnestly did Miss Layton plead with God for her young friend, that he would pardon her sins, that he would wash them all away in the blood of the Saviour, that he would enable her to lay hold by faith upon Christ, and trust in him alone for salvation. And Mary prayed for herself, confessing in broken words, and with many sighs and tears, her great sinfulness, her entire helplessness, and pleading for mercy only for the sake of Christ.

From that day there was a marked change in Mary Young. An amiable girl she had always been, but now much more so; so willing to do a kindness to any one, ever ready to deny herself that she might give pleasure to others, and so conscientious, so afraid to do wrong, seeming ever to feel herself in the presence of God, so meek and humble, and with a heart so full of love to Jesus, ever striving to lead her young friends to a like precious faith. The language of her heart was,

"Now will I tell to sinners round,What a dear Saviour I have found."

CHAPTER VI

The time had come for Miss Layton to leave S – , as she had only taken the school for the summer term, and there was a male teacher engaged for the winter. Poor Ella was greatly distressed at the thought of losing her friend. "O Miss Layton," said she, "what shall I do when you are gone? I will have nobody to help me to be good, and nobody to love me."

"Yes, Ella, your aunt loves you very much indeed; she told me so herself."

"Did she?" exclaimed Ella, looking up in astonishment, "I thought she didn't like me at all. She never kisses me, nor tells me she loves me, like mamma used to do, and she's always scolding me and telling me what a troublesome child I am. Are you sure she loves me, Miss Layton?"

"Yes, Ellie, quite sure, and you must try to believe it and to love her in return. She means it all for your good when she scolds you, and you must try to bear it patiently."

"O Miss Layton," sobbed Ella, "how can I ever be good when you are gone?"

"And why should you not, Ellie, just as well as when I am here?"

"Because you're patient and kind, and you seem pleased, and praise me when I do right."

"Ah Ella, don't you remember the other day you told me you thought you had been trying to please God all these weeks that you have been so good, and I told you then that I was afraid you were only trying to please me? And now, my dear child, do you not see that I was right? A desire to please your friends, Ella, is a good motive, but it is not the best. You must learn to do right because it is right, and pleasing in the sight of God. It is easy to deceive our friends and ourselves, but we cannot deceive God. He looks at the motives – at the feelings and desires of the heart, while we can see only the outward conduct. Dear Ella, I wish I could see you a child of God, striving to please him in all your ways."

"I do mean to try to be good when you're gone, Miss Layton; but I know I can't."

"Not if you try in your own strength, Ella; but you must ask help of God. Ask him to give you a new heart, my child – a heart that will hate sin, because it is so displeasing to him – a heart loving holiness, and earnestly desiring to please and glorify God. And if you ask these things with your whole heart, and in the name and for the sake of Jesus Christ, God will hear and grant your petitions, for he says, 'Ask and ye shall receive; seek and ye shall find; knock and it shall be opened unto you.' And he tells us that he is more willing to give his Holy Spirit to them that ask him, than parents are to give good gifts unto their children.

"You try to please me, Ella, because you love me; but, O my child, how much more ought you to love your Saviour! I have shown you a little kindness, but what is that compared with what Jesus has done for you? Think how he left that beautiful heaven, and came down to our little world, and suffered, and bled, and died, that he might save you and me. O Ella, how can we help loving him with all our hearts, and striving to please him every moment of our lives! 'Herein is love; not that we loved God, but that he loved us, and gave his Son to be the propitiation for our sins.'"

In a few weeks, Mr. Crane, the new teacher, came, and school commenced again. Mr. Crane proved to be very much such a teacher as Mr. Burton, though perhaps not quite so severe. Unfortunately, Ella was not at all disposed to like him, nor indeed anybody who took Miss Layton's place; and he seemed to take a dislike to her from the first. Sallie Barnes, too, went to school again, and seeming to dislike Ella more than ever, was continually trying to get her into trouble. There would have been constant quarrelling between them, had not Mary Young acted as peace-maker, and done her best to keep them apart. Mary tried to take Miss Layton's place to Ella, and did all she could to encourage her to industry and attention; and she often talked to her of the love of Christ, trying to lead her to the Saviour, and telling her of the happiness she had found in his service. Still it was a very uncomfortable winter to Ella. She did not become quite as careless and indolent as she had formerly been, nor indulge her temper quite so much, yet she was bad enough to be often in disgrace, both at home and at school.

The winter seemed very long, but spring did come at last, and Ella was busy in her little garden, and again she planted flowers on her mother's grave, and went every day to water them and see how they grew. One evening, when on her way there, as usual, she met Mary Young; and they walked on together.

"Come, Mary," said Ella, when they had reached the churchyard gate, "come in with me, and see how pretty my mother's grave looks; the flowers are all growing so nicely, and the rose-bush has some buds on it already."

They went in; but when they reached the grave, what a scene of desolation met their view! Some one had been there before them, and pulled up all the flowers by the roots, trampled them in the dust, and even cut off the rose-bush close to the ground. Ella stood a moment struck speechless with astonishment and dismay, then bursting into tears, she exclaimed, passionately:

"It was that wicked Sallie Barnes! I know it was! What a mean, bad, wicked girl she is! I hate her, so I do; and I hope somebody will go and tear up all her flowers, and spoil all her garden, for I know she did this!"

"O Ellie, Ellie! how can you say so?" said Mary. "I am very sorry for you, very sorry indeed; but I did not think you would have been so wicked, as to say that you hate anybody."

"Well, I don't care, I ain't half so bad as she is. I wouldn't have touched her flowers, and I'd rather she had spoilt all my garden, or killed my pet kitten, or done anything than this."

"But you don't know that it was Sallie who did it."

"Yes, I do. Nobody else would want to spoil anything of mine. Just see! every one of my pretty flowers pulled up, and my poor rose-bush cut down too. Oh! I can never forgive her!"

"O Ellie, dear Ellie, don't say that!" said Mary, putting her arms round her. "Have you forgotten that Jesus said, 'If ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses?' Dear Ellie, think how much more you have done to provoke God, than Sallie has ever done to vex and displease you, and how he has never ceased to bless you; and remember the Bible says, 'Whosoever hateth his brother, is a murderer,' and in another place, 'If he love not his brother, whom he hath seen, how can he love God, whom he hath not seen?' O Ellie, it frightens me to hear you talk so. Just think how wicked it is to say you hate anybody and will never forgive them. What if God should say he would never forgive you?"

"O Mary, I am sorry I said such a wicked thing, but I was angry and didn't think how very bad it was. Won't you ask God to forgive me and help me to like Sallie?"

"I will, Ellie, but you must ask him yourself."

"O Mary, I feel as if I was too wicked to pray; sometimes I am almost afraid to say my prayers. I wish I was as good as you."

"Don't say that, Ellie, I'm not at all good; if you could see all the sinful thoughts and feelings that come into my heart, you would not call me good. I should often be quite in despair, but then I remember that 'Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to every one that believeth,' and I beg God to wash away my sins in his blood, and clothe me in the robe of his righteousness. O Ellie dear, there is no love so sweet, so satisfying, as the love of Jesus. You are always wanting some one to love you, why will you refuse the love of him, who laid down his life for you? 'Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friend.'"

"I am sure I would like to be a Christian, Mary, if I only knew how."

"There is nothing to hinder you, Ellie, if you really wish it. Jesus stands ready and waiting to save you, and you have nothing to do but come to him; come now, just as you are, without waiting to grow any better. 'O taste and see that the Lord is good: blessed is the man that trusteth in him.'"

"How do you mean, Mary? how can I go to Jesus?"

"By praying to him, Ellie; praying with your heart. If you will do so, there is no danger that you will perish, for he never yet cast out any who came to him in the right way."

Ella sighed deeply; and sat for some time looking very thoughtful. Presently she got up from the tomb-stone, where they had been sitting, and began picking up the broken flowers, and putting them into her basket.

"I shall just throw these away, and plant some more," said she. "I guess it's not too late for them to grow. I hope Sallie will not pull them up again; but if she does, I hope I shall not get so angry again as to say that I hate her."

Ella knelt down, as usual, that night to say her prayers before getting into bed, but when she came to the petition, "Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors," she stopped, for the text that Mary had quoted came freshly into her mind, and she felt in her heart that she had not forgiven Sallie. "Then I can't say that," said she to herself, "for it would just be asking God not to forgive me. What shall I do? I can't say my prayers, and I'm afraid to go to bed without saying them. Mother told me never to do that, and besides I'm afraid I might die before morning."

She sat down to think about it. She tried to feel that she forgave Sallie, but she could not; the more she thought about it, the more she seemed to dislike her. Many little things had occurred, during the last few months, to cause this dislike. Sallie had been continually annoying her in every possible way, and she felt not the least doubt that it was she who had destroyed her flowers – the flowers which affection for her mother had prompted her to plant – and she felt as if the act was an insult to the memory of that dearly loved mother, and therefore much harder to forgive than any unkindness done only to herself.

"I wish the Bible didn't say, 'Love your enemies,' for it's so hard to do it. Sallie is my enemy, and it seems to me I can't like her; she's so disagreeable, and always doing something to vex me; but then it's very true, what Mary said – I do a great deal more to displease God, than Sallie does to vex me. How strange that he is so good to me! But what shall I do about my prayers? I'll ask God to make me willing to forgive Sallie; I can do that."

She did so, and then got into bed. Still her conscience was not at rest. She tossed about for some time, but at length, overcome with weariness, forgot her troubles in the sound sleep of childhood.

But the same struggle was to be gone through again the next morning, and so it was every night and every morning for days and weeks, her anxiety and distress constantly increasing, so that it would sometimes be long, after she had laid her head upon the pillow, before she could close her eyes in sleep. But she said nothing of all this to any one, for Mary Young had left town for a few weeks on a visit to a friend, and there was no one else whom she dared approach on the subject. At length one night, after tossing on her bed for hours, unable to bear her distress any longer, she threw herself upon her knees and earnestly begged to be enabled to forgive Sallie. This time she prayed with her whole heart, and she immediately felt that her prayer was answered, and that she could forgive her enemy. Then she prayed for herself, that her own sins might be forgiven; that her hard and stony heart might be taken away, and a heart of flesh given to her – a heart hating sin, loving God and desiring above all things to serve and please him.

She rose from her knees feeling relieved and calm, and lying down on her bed, slept soundly till morning. Ella waked with the same feeling of calmness and peace with which she had fallen asleep, and she found a pleasure in offering up her petitions, that morning, which she had never known before. She found it easy now to forgive Sallie and to pray for her, and very pleasant to pray for herself, and she was also conscious of such a desire to be kept from sin, and enabled to please God by her conduct that day, as she had never felt before; but it did not occur to her then, nor for some weeks afterwards, that her heart had been changed. She only knew that she felt a longing desire to become a child of God.

"I have some good news to tell you, Ellie," said Mary Young, as she came into Miss Clinton's sitting-room one morning, where Ella was seated busily engaged with some sewing. Mary's face was beaming with delight, and she looked as if she could scarcely wait for Ella to ask her what her news might be. But she was not kept waiting long.