"There is no time here in Barmston. From morning to night I am as busy as can be, often till ten o'clock, and then I am so tired I almost drop asleep while I am undressing."

"Poor boy, you are hard-worked. But remember this, G.o.d never puts you into any place where you cannot seek Him. Do you never read your Bible, or speak to G.o.d in prayer?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "DID YOU KNOW MY FATHER?"--_Page 33._]

"Not now. Perhaps I shall have more time when I am older."

"Nay, never think that. G.o.d says, 'Now is the day of salvation.' You may not live to be older."

The conversation was interrupted by Mrs. Netherclift coming in with the tea, and directly after the two boys went out together to a neighbouring mission-hall, where David's father knew they would hear an earnest Gospel message. He, being unable to walk, remained at home, earnestly praying that both lads might get a blessing.

CHAPTER IV.

AN UNEXPECTED TRIAL.

David Netherclift ushered Owen into a small, but cheerful and brightly-lighted mission-hall. The place was nearly full, but they found comfortable seats, and the service almost immediately commenced. The singing was hearty, and the speaker's manner so earnest and manly that Owen's attention was gained even before he began to preach. But when he read out his text, the boy listened still more earnestly, for the words seemed to have some reference to the fortune he so eagerly desired.

Slowly and deliberately they were read out: "Ye know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that, though He was rich, yet for your sakes He became poor, that ye through His poverty might be rich."

"You see here," began the speaker, "that One who was rich gave up His wealth, and became a poor man that you, poor men, women, and children, might become rich. It was a wonderful thing to do, for it was not only that He gave up home and comfort and wealth for poor people, but for those who cared nothing for Him, even for His enemies. And He did it out of His own great love and grace. Who was it who did this? It was the Lord Jesus Christ, the King of Glory, the G.o.d who made the world, and all those countless stars that fill our sky. If it was a good man that had done it, we should have thought it a great thing to do; but that G.o.d should stoop so low fills us with surprise. He might have stayed in heaven, rejoicing in His Father's love, listening to the songs and adoration of the angels, leaving us in our poverty and ruin to die eternally. But no; out of His boundless love and grace, He came to suffer and die--'for your sakes.'

"Yes, for our sakes, because we were poor, lost sinners, and He pitied us. So He came down from heaven, and lived a poor man, dying a death of shame to redeem us and save us from h.e.l.l. Should we not then seek His rich salvation, and take the wealth the Saviour went through such deep poverty to win for us? You may refuse it; G.o.d does not force it upon you. But oh, the terrible punishment that will fall on those who neglect or reject G.o.d's salvation!

"You, here before me, are mostly poor; you would all like to be rich.

Listen, then, to G.o.d's Word: 'The blessing of the Lord, it maketh rich, and He addeth no sorrow with it.' The heavenly riches never disappoint, never fly away, but last on, growing deeper and fuller, right into eternity. Who will come to Christ to-night, and seek His unsearchable riches?"

They were simple words simply spoken, but were G.o.d's message to many hearts. Owen did not say much as he walked home with his friend; but he did not forget the words he had heard. That night he opened his Bible for the first time since he came to Barmston, and knelt in prayer before he went to bed. All that week he was very thoughtful, longing for Sunday to come, that he might again have some help heavenward, for he was beginning to set his face that way. Not that he neglected his work. No; his uncle never found him more diligent and active, though he was on his feet from morning till night, and was often thoroughly tired out.

"No sorrow with it," he said softly to himself one evening, as he was copying some writing by his cousin's side in the counting-house.

"What do you say, Owen?"

The boy smiled. "I did not know I was speaking out loud," he said.

"But what did you say about 'no sorrow'?"

"It was something I heard on Sunday: 'The blessing of the Lord it maketh rich, and He addeth no sorrow with it.'"

"Those riches must be worth getting," said Clarice, after a pause, with tears in her eyes. She had long known a deeply unsatisfied feeling in her heart, though no one suspected it; and she herself hardly knew how the uneasiness arose.

"Yes, I think so too," said Owen, as he went on busily with his work.

It was only a few days after this that Mr. Hadleigh called his nephew to him, and said, "Clarice has to go on business for me over to Horley, across the river, and she wants you to go too; so run and change your jacket, and get ready to go with her."

"Thank you, uncle," said the boy, delighted at the prospect of a change.

He had never been on the river before, and it was a great charm to him to step on board the little steamer waiting at the pier-head, and start off in the fresh breeze across the river.

"How long will it take us?" he asked his cousin.

"About twenty minutes crossing; then we have to go into the village for father, and take the next boat back."

"How curious it feels; it looks as if the town and pier were moving away."

"Yes, it often does at first; but it is really we who are moving. You will see better when we get farther out into the river."

The shipping and the new sights occupied the boy the whole way across, and Clarice had to answer numberless questions, so that it was not till they had reached the other side, and were walking down a country road to the neighbouring village, that she was able to say, "Do you know why I asked father to let you come to-day?"

"Because you are kind, and wanted me to have a holiday."

"It was not altogether that," said the girl, looking down on the young boy at her side; "I wanted you to tell me more about that 'no sorrow.'"

"Why, I told you all I knew."

"Ah, but how can we get it?"

The boy hesitated. "You must come with me to the mission-hall on Sunday night, and hear the preacher yourself, Clarice. Then you will know all about it."

"I cannot do that; mother would not let me, nor father either, I fear."

"But they let me."

"Yes; but they had a talk about it the first Sunday evening you were gone. Mother said she did not like you to go at all, but father said as long as you did your work well he did not mind where you went on Sundays, as you are a boy. So you really must tell me more, Owen. No one but you can help me."

"I don't know what to tell you. I don't quite understand it myself yet.

He said we were to read the Bible and pray, and seek the salvation G.o.d offers. He said the Lord Jesus loves us, and wants us to be His children."

"Are you His child?"

"I don't know. I want to be. Father and mother were, and----" the boy stopped.

"I must know more about it," said Clarice, earnestly; "you must listen for yourself and me too, Owen, when you go again, and try to remember all you can to tell me."

When they returned to Barmston, they found Mr. Hadleigh evidently in a bad temper. He was talking very loudly, and seemed considerably annoyed.

The moment he caught sight of Owen, he called him to him.

"Didn't you put out that order for Mr. Davenport yesterday? I gave it into your hands."

"Yes, sir, I did it. I weighed out the things, and wrapped them up."

"This comes of trusting to boys," he said, bitterly; "but you seemed different to most. Mr. Davenport has just been in, and says the things never arrived."

"I packed them up all right," said Owen, respectfully, but firmly.

"Whose place was it to take them out?"

"It was David's round."