But father he got worse, and wouldn't work no how, and he was always gettin' took up, and then when they let him out of jail he was furiouser than ever. One night, O laws! I most wish I'd never gone and been born when I think of that, mother and all us children was asleep. Father had been took up, and so we wasn't afeard of nothin'. It was a snowin' and a blowin' sky high, and n.o.body could hear nothin' for the wind. All at once I felt somethin' a movin' over my face, soft like, and then it made for my throat. Then I ups and gives a spring, and run into mother's room, but somethin' tripped me, and I fell down right on top of it. Then it moaned out like, and--and I knowed it was mother a lying there, and that somebody had killed her.

"I began to call 'murder' as hard as I could, but father, it was him did it, got a hold of me again, and told me he'd soon shut up my fly trap. I know'd he was goin' to do it, so I give an awful leap and sprung clear over his head and right out in de snow. I know'd he wouldn't go far to katch me, for he'd have enough to do to clear hisself, so I waded along till I come to de man's house that Jim worked for.

"He had two awful fierce dogs, and one of them made a spring at my throat while de other caught hold of my leg and took a bite out. De man, hearin' de dogs, put his head out of de window and asked what was de matter. So, as I couldn't speak, I just groaned, and he told de dogs to lay down. Well, he came down and took me in de house, and all I could say was 'Father,' and 'Murder.' So he called up de rest of de men folks and took them over, but when they got there father was gone, and mother and de baby was dead. Poor mother, she was holding de baby tight to her bosom. De other childerns was screechin' and cryin', and de door was wide open, and they was nearly frozen. Well, de poor house buried mother and de baby, and took all de children but Jim and me, and de man Jim worked for said he could stay thar as long as he wanted help. I hadn't no place to go to, so I worked where I could, and that wasn't much because it weren't de time of year for work, and I slept in sheds and barns, wherever de folks would let me.

"Mother she was a good woman, and made us say our prayers every night, but I didn't say 'em any more after that night, because I didn't see de use of prayin' to G.o.d when he let my mother get killed. I hated G.o.d then and I said so to Jim, only n.o.body else talked to me about them things, and I didn't get a chance to tell 'em. It was a good many years that I went on that way, only I got steady work. One summer de fellows said thar was goin' to be a camp meetin' somewhar near, so I concluded to go and see what it looked like. So I sets out on Sunday mornin', and when I seen de white tents, and heard de people singin' and shoutin', I thought it was de curiousest thing I ever seen. I got along tolerable well, talkin' to de colored folks what waited on de tables, when all at once a big horn was blowed, and everybody went off to preachin'.

"I went too, jest to look on, and when de preacher give out his text he said, 'Thou G.o.d seest me.' I didn't think I need to be afeard, for I didn't steal nor nothin', so I looked him square in de face. But by and by I began to feel queer, and then I begin to look down on de ground. It appeared as ef old Satan was a tryin' to drag me down to de bottomless pit, and I know'd ef he'd git me thar once, he'd take care to hold on to me pretty tight. I was afeard to look down, expecting every minute to be swallowed up, and I couldn't look up for I know'd G.o.d was looking at me.

All at once something appeared to pull me down, and thar I lay while de people was a singin' and a prayin' all around. After a good spell somethin' spoke and says: 'Look up, Pete;' and I says, 'What's wantin'?'

n.o.body didn't give no answer, so I begin to groan agin. Then somethin'

spoke agin louder, and says: 'Don't be afeard, Pete, it's me.' I kind of looked up, but didn't see n.o.body lookin' at me, so I felt worse. Then the third time somethin' says: 'Rise, Pete, your sins is all forgiven.'

I says, right out loud; 'Who says so?' and de same voice, only sweeter and more lovin' says, 'De blessed Jesus; you needn't to be afeard any more.'

"I tell you I jumped up quick, and began to laugh as hard as I could.

Some of de people said I was crazy, but de pious folks said I had got a blessin'; and so I had, de blessedest blessin' ever I got. Dat's about all, ladies and gentlemen," and Pete, bowing, betook himself to clearing the table.

The Rev. John Jay, who with the rest, had been an attentive listener, now said: "To be able to tell that last part, my friend, is worth more than all the world to a man; 'for what will it profit a man if he gain all the world and lose his own soul, or what will a man give in exchange for his soul.'"

"That's so, sah," replied Pete with glistening eye, "he wouldn't be of much account no how."

Several more hours delightfully spent in the woods, and then the coaches were announced, and the homeward road taken, but not without a parting word to Pete.

"Good-by," called out the girls as they drove off, and "Don't let old Satan play any more pranks with you," said Guy, to all of which he replied by bowing low, and saying: "Thank you, ladies; thank you gentlemen; take keer of yourselves, and don't forgit to stop here de next time." He watched until, not only their forms were lost sight of, but until the dust which had been disturbed into thick clouds, had settled; then turning toward the house, he began his favorite air:

"O, gib me de wings ob de angels."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Decoration]

CHAPTER XIII.

REV. JOHN JAY DELIVERS HIS MESSAGE.

THE Rev. John Jay was not satisfied that he had been true to the older members of his flock. As a watchman he had only faintly blown the trumpet on some points, fearing the consequences.

Now in deep humility of soul, he plead for grace to declare all the counsel of G.o.d. If the spirit gave him utterance, need he have fear as to the result? Was it not written, "For as the rain cometh down and the snow from heaven, and returneth not thither, but watereth the earth, and maketh it bring forth and bud, that it may give seed to the sower and bread to the eater; so shall my word be that goeth forth out of my mouth. It shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it."

Now he would cry aloud and spare not; he would lift up his voice like a trumpet, and show the people their transgressions, and thus deliver his own soul.

With firm steps he ascended the pulpit, that Sabbath morning, and with a heart full of holy resolve. But as his eye fell on the whitened locks and wrinkled faces of many whose years almost trebled his, involuntarily he cried: "Oh Lord G.o.d, I am but a child! how can I do this thing?"

We know how quickly human love runs to protect and comfort the little trembling one, so when the cry was heard, there was a tender gathering up into the arms of the Compa.s.sionate One, and there came a heavenly calm and holy boldness. There was no sleepers in church that morning, although some questioned whether they were not dreaming, as this youth, hitherto so modest, and una.s.suming, in authoritative tones pointed out to them their mistakes and the fearful consequences arising from them.

We want men and women to go from house to house, to gather in those who have wandered from G.o.d. But whose fault is it that they have wandered?

Answer it, ye fathers and mothers. Your judgment is better than the Almighty's.

When the woman was taken in sin, he said: "Martha do I condemn thee! go in peace and sin no more." Didn't He open up heaven just then, even to that sinner? He who 'knew no sin.' But it does not do for us, standing in our strength and wisdom, to say to the weak and erring, to the young and foolish, "We feel for you; our hearts are not too old--we are not too far removed from you by grace, to know what snares surround you. But we will gather about you with loving hearts; we will give you kindly counsel, not sharp reproof; neither will we condemn you.

"How many little ones do you carry to Christ every day, my brother, my sister? Remember He expects you to lift them up by your prayers and efforts, and bear them to Him. He waits with open arms. Whom by kind words and loving deeds, and earnest prayer, have you drawn toward Him?

Or whom have you driven from Him, by reproof, fault-finding, and holding yourself aloof? You are afraid the church will be desecrated by the gathering of our young people; they will have such a pleasant, happy time in their weekly meetings, that they will not reverence G.o.d's house.

Think you, you are more pleasing in His sight, you who turn out of the way the lame and the blind. Ah, it were better never to have been born, than by narrowness of soul, by false reasoning, and warped judgment, to have led astray, or turned aside from G.o.d one of these youthful souls.

As fathers and mothers, should you not rejoice that your children are among you; that they are improving the gifts bestowed upon them by G.o.d, and fitting themselves to fill higher places in the church and the world than you.

"And now, dear friends, fathers and mothers, men and women naming the name of Christ, by His love I beseech you, go out to-day stripped of your prejudices, and your robes of self-righteousness; go out with humility, with yearning, Christ-like love, and say: 'We are all sinners; we need each other's help, and the Saviour has need of all. We will go hand in hand through joy and sorrow, through toil and temptation, up to the gates of the Celestial city, up to the joys at G.o.d's right hand.'"

So the Rev. John Jay delivered his soul. So he scattered good seed, leaving the budding, the blooming, the fruit bearing to G.o.d.

But it did not all fall on good ground. Some fell by the way-side, and Satan, s.n.a.t.c.hing it up, sowed seeds of discord in its place. So that in a short time it became evident there were two parties in the church.

Those who claimed to espouse the Lord's cause, when in reality they were trying to hold the doors of the kingdom of heaven, so that none but those they thought fit should enter, and others, whose watch-word was: "All souls for Christ. Being all things to all men if by any means we may win them to Christ." The former said the Rev. John Jay was intolerant, and a stirrer up of strife; that he was too much of a radical for them, and consequently he must leave. The latter talked to the Lord about it, and determined to stand by His servant. Their numbers were greatly augmented by the young people, who declared if the minister were dismissed not one of them would ever enter the church. So the old and young were brought together sooner, and in a different manner than was antic.i.p.ated by the young pastor. But the "right" prevailed, and the Rev. John Jay remained. He soon began to miss a number of familiar faces, while at the same time he observed, with great satisfaction, many for whom he had heretofore looked in vain; some of them the young men who had been induced to spend a social evening with him each week in his study, and among them was Guy Gorton.

Upon inquiry he found that brother Smith, as leader of the movement, had decided to worship G.o.d in a room of "their own hiring, where there was no young boy to teach them their duty."

As the croakers went out, the young people flocked in, and never did Fourth street church witness such a revival as during that winter. Side by side were found gray-haired parents and their children seeking to learn of Jesus' love, and many a heart that had long resisted all other influence, was led by youthful pleading to forsake sin and turn to Christ. Old and young were secretly drawn together in the bonds of Christian love and sympathy. Even the a.s.sociation became a family gathering at which the young people did the work and entertained the older folks, they, good, simple souls thinking there never were such talented young men and women, and there never could be such a society as the a.s.sociation of Fourth street church. "But," they added, "all this and much more, would never have been but for our dear, faithful pastor, the Rev. John Jay."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Decoration]

CHAPTER XIV.

"WEEPING MAY ENDURE FOR A NIGHT."

GUY had lost his cheerfulness, his sisters thought. Certainly he had not his old gayety of manner, and they anxiously inquired if he were sick.

"I am sure you must be," urged Ruth; "won't you see a doctor, Guy? Then there is another thing, you read too much; indeed you will injure yourself if you continue to study so."

But he only laughed at their fears, and continued to spend his evenings at home over his books. Seeing that he did not seek other society, the girls gave little entertainments; not costing much to be sure, not more perhaps than some little things they needed, but now did without, so that he might be surrounded by pleasant company, and acquire a taste for the society of good people.

Now it never once occurred to Guy that his sisters were doing this for him. He thought they must be becoming more fond of society, and it pleased him very much, for he did not see why they should not shine in the very highest circles. Before long he meant that they should. And now when their friends came, he did his best to entertain them for their sake, and they were overjoyed at his returns of brilliancy and wit.

Now that the winter had really set in, and promised to be severe, Ruth recollected that Guy's overcoat had not been taken out of the cedar chest, where it had been laid in Spring.

"It is no wonder he has not asked for it," she thought, as she looked at the thread-bare sleeves, and noticed the rusty appearance of the whole coat. Spreading it out, she looked at it, then sitting down thought of what could be done. "Now there is hartshorn, that dissolved in water, cleans cloth beautifully; but even if I did scour it, Guy could never wear a thread-bare coat."

Then came the question: "How can he get another? I know if he could, he would have had it by this time. I must have been thinking of myself and my own clothes, or I should not have lost sight of this so long. I will see how much money there is; at any rate if it should take every cent in the house, Guy must have the coat."

For a long time Ruth sat in the cold room making plans; finally she decided to have a talk with Agnes about it, because it would never do, not to let her have a share in the pleasure of making Guy comfortable.

That night the bed-post and rocking-chair were appropriated, and there was a long, earnest talk. Agnes was not so much surprised as her sister antic.i.p.ated, when she found that Guy was a great way off from making a fortune. For ever since the time Ruth refused to purchase her dress, Agnes had been finding out things she never dreamed of before. It was Ruth who was surprised to find that Agnes knew so much of the real state of affairs. In one way it was a relief, now that she did know, and Ruth felt that a great part of her burden had gone; but it was gone from her to be laid on Agnes, and that thought was more painful than the burden had been.

"It is to be divided equally, remember," said Agnes. "O, I am so glad that I am earning money, Ruth."

Ruth urged that as she was older, she should bear the greater part of the expense; but Agnes would not consent to this; and finally it was settled that each should give half. Then they were perplexed as to the manner of doing it. Agnes thought it best to tell him, and let him order it himself; but Ruth was sure he would not take the money. Three months before, she would not have hesitated to offer it; but he had changed since then, and something told her he had resolved to be less dependent in the future.

"I don't like concealments," urged Agnes; "I felt meanly in acting so about your dress, Ruth."