Read Ebook: Light for Little Ones by Waterbury Mary F

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Ebook has 198 lines and 12347 words, and 4 pages

"Because she gave me a book that tells about a little boy that didn't mind, and ran away to a pond, and got drowned; and I thought she must have known it."

"It may be that she did, but that is of less consequence than the fact that God knows it. Think of it, Frankie, the great and holy God! He sees everything you do, and hears everything you say, and knows all your thoughts."

"Oh, dear!" sighed Frankie. "I wish he didn't. I never can have any more fun when I think of that. Is he looking at us all the time, every one of us?"

"'Every one of us, and all the time,'" answered his mother. "'His eyes are in every place, beholding the evil and the good.' But that need not trouble you, if you do right."

"'Tired being good,' my child. It is the only way to be happy. I know a little boy who is happy all day long, and all he has to make him so, is 'being good.' I am going to take something to his sick mother this evening, and you may go with me."

"Is it the little lame boy, mamma, that lives down by the paper-mill? Oh, won't that be nice! and may I take him one of my books to read?" Frankie asked eagerly.

His mother helped him choose a book, and, after tea, they started. Their way led them along the bank of the creek. The sun was just setting and all the sunset colors were reflected in the water. The hush of the Sabbath was on the busy, noisy village, and nothing could be heard but the faint hum of insects and the good-night song of the birds. Walking by his mother's side, with his hand in hers, all these pleasant sights and sounds around them, and in his heart the thought of pleasing poor, lame Aleck,--all these made Frankie quietly happy. Looking up into his mother's face, he said, "God is looking at us now, mamma, and I ain't afraid. I wish I could see him too."

"If you love and obey God, Frankie, you will see him, for when you die, He will take you to heaven, to live with him forever." This and much more his mother said, and Frankie listened and pondered her words in his childish heart.

At last they reached the widow's little brown house at the foot of a steep, wood-covered hill. It was a "wee sma' place," as widow Espey said, but "didna they hae a' the bonny world outside?"

The sick woman was lying on a clean white bed in one corner of the room. Her face was pale and thin, but the light of a sweet content shone through her eyes. The lame boy, Aleck, was sitting by the bed, his crutches lying on the floor beside him. He had his mother's face, and the same patient, happy look.

"We have been talkin', my bairn an' I, o' the guid land on the ither side," the widow said, after her visitors were seated. "I dinna ken the time, but it wi' nae' be lang before I sha' gang awa' to my ain countrie."

Tears came into Aleck's eyes and rolled down his thin, white cheeks.

"Dinna greet, laddie, dinna greet," and the mother stroked his hand that was clasped in hers. "The time wi' be as naething before the guid God wi' ca' ye too, an' we sha' aye dwell thegither. Dinna doot his word, my bairn."

The child bravely kept back his tears and said, "Nae, mither, I ken it wi' a' be for the best; but oh, my ain mither, take your laddie wi' ye," and again the tears came to his eyes.

Instantly the dying mother's face brightened, and she said, in faint, earnest tones, "O Mrs. Western, if ye wad be a mither to my mitherless bairn."

"With God's help I will. He shall be to me as my own child," said Mrs. Western, going nearer the bedside.

All the sad rites were performed under Mrs. Western's supervision, and, when everything was done, even to the turfing of the last resting-place in the quiet cemetery, the brown cottage was sold, and Aleck was taken to Frankie's home. He shared Frankie's room, and Mrs. Western did all that she could to lighten his lonely little heart. He mourned for his mother in a quiet, patient way, but seemed anxious to be cheerful, and grateful for his pleasant home and kind friends.

Thus, in the great darkness, the Lord made his pathway light. "He carries the lambs in his arms."

REMEMBER THE SABBATH DAY.

The sunny summer passed away; autumn came and brightened the hills and valleys for a little time, then was buried beneath its own dead leaves; and now winter has brought its snow and cold winds to Frankie's home.

Frankie loves the winter. The keen winds only make his eyes brighter and cheeks rosier. Then he has such a nice sled, and there are such famous hills for coasting! To be sure, it mars his pleasure to think of Aleck, who is so lame and weak that he has to stay in the house all the time, but he is a merry-hearted little fellow, and dearly loves to go flying down the long hill on his swift-going sled.

Aleck's patient face for a moment wore a sad, weary look, then, looking up cheerfully, he said, "Oh, I dinna mind, Frankie,--not much. You ken I'm used to staying i' the house. Then this window is sae sunny, and Dickie sings most a' the time, and the flowers are sae bonny."

"I want to go, mamma. Oh, dear, the boys'll be gone," was the impatient reply, as he twisted the knob of the half-opened door. "Can't I go, mamma?"

Mrs. Western said nothing, and, unheeding her reproachful look, he ran off, drawing his sled after him.

It was a clear, crisp, sparkling winter morning. Coasting never was better, and Joe and Will were as merry as ever, but Frankie did not enjoy it.

"What's the matter, Frank?" asked Joe, seeing his sorrowful expression. "Fingers cold?"

"No," said Frankie, "but I am going home," and without a word of explanation he ran off. Rushing into the sitting-room, his eyes filled with tears, he put his arms around his mother's neck and said, "O mamma, I am sorry."

"So am I, darling," said his mother, kissing the tearful face. "Sit down here by me and we will talk a little about the Sabbath, and see why it is my little boy dislikes it so much."

"I would like it, mamma, only it is so long. I don't like to keep so still, and I get so sleepy in church, and I keep thinking about my sled and the fun I could have if it wasn't Sunday." He paused, quite satisfied that he had made a good case for himself, and his mother, taking up her sewing, told him, in her low, calm tones, the following story.

"A father sent his little boy on a long journey, through a dark and dangerous way; but before bidding him good-bye, he gave him a letter which would tell him how to escape the dangers, and how to find the way through the darkness. This is what he said to the child, who stood all eagerness and haste to be gone.

"'My child, you are just starting on your journey. You are full of life and hope, and the way looks bright before you, but even in this broad, sunny path, are many dangers; and, as you travel further, the path narrows, the flowers are fewer, and the forest is darker; still further on, are rocks, and underbrush, and pitfalls, and at the end of this rough way is a dark and rapid river which you must cross. If you pass over this stream safely, you will find yourself in a beautiful place. In that land I will give you a home, and you shall live with me forever.'

"'But how can I go all that dark way, father?' and the boy's face was full of doubt and fear.

"The father handed him a letter, saying,

"'This letter will tell you just what to do. Whenever you are in trouble, look at this. Nothing can happen to you about which this will not help you. But you are not to travel all the time. Every seventh day you shall pause in your journey to rest and read this letter, and think of all I have told you, and of the pleasant home to which you are going. It will give you so much strength, and make your heart so light and happy that you can travel faster and further than if you had not stopped.'

"'But need I stop at first, father, when the way is easy and I am not tired?' asked the boy.

"'Oh yes, my child, or you will forget it by and by; then, though the way be easy, it has dangers which you cannot avoid unless you study the letter very carefully, and store it in your mind, so that you will know what to do if danger comes suddenly. Therefore, my child, remember to rest in your journey one day out of seven, read this letter, and think of your father and the home beyond the river.'

"Merrily the child started off, chasing the butterflies and plucking the flowers as he ran along the sunny way, so full of glee that he seldom thought of his father's letter until the day of rest came. Then he read it, and tried to think of what his father had said to him; but it was very hard to shut out the visions of the butterflies and birds and flowers. He was restless and tired, for he cared more to please himself than obey his father; so he gradually gave up the day of rest, and then commenced his troubles. All his roses were full of sharp thorns, the path was crowded with rough stones and pricking briers, great snakes darted out from the trunk of every fallen tree, and he grew so weary with constant running, was so bruised with frequent stumbling, and so torn and scratched with briers, that you would hardly have known him. If he had gone on in this way much longer I do not think he ever could have reached the pleasant home which his father was to have ready for him. But in the midst of his troubles he remembered the letter, and, drawing it out of his pocket, read the almost forgotten message, 'Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy.'"

"That's one of the commandments, mamma," Frankie said. "But was that a true story about the little boy? What was his name?"

"Frankie Western," replied his mother. "God, his heavenly Father, has given him a letter, the Holy Bible, which will tell him how to live every day so as to escape all the sins that lie in his path, like the stones and thorns and briers which troubled the little boy. His Father has told him to leave his work and play on the Sabbath, and study this letter, the Bible; but he does not like to do it, and I fear that in future he will have as much trouble as did the child about whom I have told you. He will say more naughty words, and be more apt to disobey mamma, and to feel cross toward Benny Field. Then as he grows older, and the way becomes darker, I fear he will lose the way and never reach his home in heaven."

"I don't want to lose the way, mamma. I won't if I'm good, will I, mamma, and stay in Sundays, and read the Bible like Aleck?" asked Frankie, anxiously.

"No, darling, you will not lose your way if you love God and do just as he commands you; and one of his commandments is, 'Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy.'"

FRANKIE TRUSTS IN CHRIST.

Although Frankie was a merry, thoughtless little fellow, his mother's story about keeping the Sabbath made such a deep impression upon his mind that the next Sunday morning his first thought on waking was as to how he should spend the day. There seemed to be a great many hours from dawn till dark, and he sighed half aloud as he thought of the smooth crust of snow and the snow-man left unfinished the day before.

Aleck was awake, and, hearing the sigh, asked what was the matter. "Oh, I was just thinking, Aleck," was the reply, "how long it will be before Monday. Don't it seem ever so long to you? I wish you could go to church with mamma and me. It's nice to hear them sing, but I get sleepy when the minister talks. Didn't you ever go to church?"

"Yes, but I canna remember about it very well. It was before I was lame. But I am sure I wad like to gang to the kirk," said Aleck.

"What made you lame?" Frankie asked, for the first time seeming to realize that his patient playmate had not always been a cripple.

"I fell down the stairs i' the paper-mill where my mither was. It hurt my back some way."

"Won't you get well some time?" asked Frankie, earnestly.

"I dinna ken, but I'm thinkin' 'twill nae be lang till I gang to my mither."

"O Aleck," and Frankie put his arms about his neck, "you mean you're going to die, and you mustn't. You'd have to be put way down in the ground."

"Only my body, Frankie. My soul would be wi' God and my mither. And oh! it is sic a bonny place, and Sunday a' the time. Then I wi' be free frae pain."

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