"The Bible rule is, 'Every man _according as he purposeth in his heart_, so let him give.' If His heart will be satisfied with nothing less than all, you would not forbid Him?"

Meredith's eyes sparkled, and he looked at Flora, but she would not meet him.

"It may be and often is the case, that the Lord's best service requires some of a man's money to be spent on things that seem personal; still, if he loves G.o.d best, all will be really for G.o.d. Education, accomplishments, knowledge, arts, sciences, recreation, travel, books--provided only that in everything and everywhere the man is doing the very best he can for the service of his Master and the stewardship of his goods. That does not shut out but increases his delight in these things."

"That is enough!" exclaimed Meredith. "You have answered all my questions, sir. I see my way now."

"It will be a way apart from mamma and me, then, I suppose," said Flora, her eyes filling and her cheeks reddening.

"No," said Mr. Murray gently, "perhaps not. Meredith, we have had a sufficient interval of talk; suppose you read again. I am selfish in saying so; for while my ears listen, my eyes can revel in this wealth of colour. What will you give us next?"

"May I choose, sir? It touches what we have been talking about, another little story. It is a story by the bedside of a sick day-labourer."

"I don't believe we shall like it, Ditto," said his sister.

"It will not hold us long. Let me try.--

"'It is a long while ago, that I was once standing by the bedside of a sick day-labourer, who had a wife and four children. The man had been ill for weeks, and the sickness had swallowed up all his money. Death was near, and he was glad of it; he had only one remaining wish, that he might receive the symbols of the body and blood of the Lord Jesus in the Holy Communion. I administered them to him.

"'We sang with a number of friends and neighbours who were gathered together, the song,

"Who knows how near my end may be!"

"'He sang the words correctly along with us, for he knew the hymn by heart. His wife and children sang too. As we stopped at the fifth verse, I saw great tears in his eyes; but I said nothing at the time. The sick man spoke his confession devoutly, and afterwards received the bread and the wine which are in figure the body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ. His eye beamed with joy. Then after the blessing was said we sang the most glorious verse of the same hymn,--"I have fed on Jesus'

blood," &c. The neighbours and friends went away, after they had cordially pressed his hand and said to him, "In the Lord's presence we'll be together again." I remained alone with the sick man and his family. Then I asked, why he had wept when we were singing, whether perhaps it was a trouble to him that he must go away from his wife and children? He looked at me with open eyes, almost reproachfully, when I said that, and answered, "Does not Jesus stay with them then? Has not the Lord said He would be 'the father of the fatherless and a judge of the widow'? No; they will be well looked after; I have prayed the Lord that He would be a guardian to them. Isn't it so, mother, that thou art not worried either, and thy heart is not anxious? Thou, too, hast faith in Jesus!" "Surely," said the woman, "I believe in Jesus; and I am glad thou art going to Jesus. In good time I will come after thee with the children. Jesus will help me by His Holy Spirit to bring them up."

"Well--why did you shed tears then?" "For joy. I was thinking, if the singing goes so lovely even down here, how beautiful it will be when the angels sing with us. That was what made me weep, for joy, because such blessedness is so near before me." And now he made a sign to his wife.

She understood the sign, went to the cupboard, and fetched out a little sort of a cup dish, which was her husband's money-box. Six groschen were in it, all that was left over of his possessions. He took them out with trembling fingers, laid them in my hand, and said, "The heathen are to have those, that they too may learn how to die happy." I looked at the wife; she nodded her head pleasantly and said, "We have agreed upon that. When all is paid that will be needed for the funeral, it will leave just these six groschen over." "And what will you keep?" "The Lord Jesus," said she. "And what are you going to leave to your wife and children?" I asked the man again. "The Lord Jesus," said he; and with that whispered me in the ear, "He is very good and very rich." So I took the six groschen for the heathen, and put them, as a great treasure, in the mission money-box; and it was hard for me to give them out again; only if I had not paid them out, I should not have fulfilled the dying man's wish. In the following night he fell asleep. We buried him as a Christian should be buried, that is, publicly, with the ringing of the bell, with preaching, singing and prayer; and there was no weeping done, neither by his wife nor by his three oldest children, neither in the church nor by the grave. But the youngest child, a boy of five years old, who followed the bier along with the rest, wept bitterly. I asked him afterwards, why he had wept so bitterly at his father's grave? The child answered me, "I was so troubled because father didn't take me with him to the Lord Jesus; I had begged him so hard to take me." "My child,"

said I, "your father could not take you along with him; only the Saviour could do that; you ought to have asked _Him_." "Shall I ask Him now then?" he questioned. "No, my child. See--when the Saviour wants you, He will call you Himself. But if He chooses that you shall grow to be a man first, then you must help your mother and let her live with you. Will you?" He said, "I would like to go to Jesus; and I would like to be big too, so that mother can live with me." "Well, then, say to the Lord Jesus that He shall choose." "That is what I will do," said the boy; and was quite contented and pleased.

"'The faithful Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ give us all a happy end.

Amen.'"

There was the usual pause after Meredith had done reading. Flora, however, could not keep back long her expression of opinion.

"I protest!" she said. "Those people were utterly fanatical! Mr. Murray, isn't it true?"

"O Uncle Eden, do you think so?" cried Maggie. "I think it is beautiful."

"Maggie is too young to understand," remarked Esther. "Those people were very unnatural, I think."

"How?" said Meredith.

"Yes, how?" Mr. Murray echoed. "I should like to hear the arguments on both sides."

"A man who is dying, and has a wife and four children," said Flora solemnly, "has no _right_ to give his last six groschen away. I don't know how much a groschen is, but that don't make any difference. He has no right to to do it!"

"You emphasise, 'a man who is dying,'" said Meredith. "Would the case be different if he were a man living and going to live?"

"Why, of course."

"How?"

"He would work then, and earn more. How stupid to ask, Meredith!"

"But an accident might happen to him; or he might fail to get work; or he might miss his pay."

"Yes, of course. I think it would be fanatical even then. But when he was dying, and couldn't do anything!"----

"But if in any case he must trust for a day--what does it signify? G.o.d can send help in a day."

"I should not think He would, when people throw away wantonly what they have got already."

"What is given to Jesus isn't thrown away," said Maggie.

"And He always pays it back with interest," said Mr. Murray. "And what is entrusted to Him is never neglected. I think that old German peasant was very safe in his proceeding."

"But so unnatural!" cried Esther. "Not to be sorry to leave his wife and children!"

"I have no doubt he was very sorry to leave them. The only thing is, he was more glad to go to Jesus."

"I cannot understand that."

"Not till you know the Lord yourself; and I do not deny that one must know Him well, to be so eager to go to Him. One does not easily leave the known for the unknown."

"Let me read another bit of a story, or history," said Meredith. "We cannot come to an agreement by talking; these things must be _lived in_--must they not, Mr. Murray?"

"Yes, read. But see the sky!" said Mr. Murray. "And the colours along the sh.o.r.e! Wonderful, wonderful! What a Sunday evening this is."

Meredith sat silently looking for a few minutes. With every quarter of an hour of the descending sun, the world was growing now more like a fairy-tale world. The lights and the shadows and the colours were making such exquisite work, that the bit of earth the gazers were looking upon seemed not to belong to the earth of history or the life of experience, but to be something unearthly, and glorified. With all that, the Sabbath stillness! There was the lap of the water at the foot of the rocks; the rustle of the dry leaves down below where Fenton was prowling about; the call of the bugle sounding out some order for the dragoons on the other side at the post; between whiles the absolute repose of nature.

"I wonder if the new heavens and the new earth will be anything like this!" said Mr. Murray with a long breath.

"This is not like our common world. Well, Meredith--it is hard upon you, but it is better than too much talking."

"It is not hard upon me, sir. I am getting all my ideas cleared up.

"'Holy Scripture saith, that the hearts of the children shall be turned to the parents, and the hearts of the parents to the children. I will tell you a story about that, which, I hope, may be of use; so much the more, that in this regard one sees so much that is senseless.

"'I knew a man once, who was the very ideal of a just living, upright, honourable man; but Jesus he knew not. Among his fellow-men he was held in general, well-deserved esteem; for he was pleasant and winning in intercourse with them, and in his whole character there was something naturally n.o.ble. No prayer was ever heard in his house, neither at table, nor mornings and evenings, nor was ever the morning and evening blessing read. But love and peace reigned in the house, between parents and children, and master and mistress and servants; and nothing dishonourable was tolerated. In other things, however, the way of the house was the way of the world; card-playing was had there, now and then dancing, and sometimes it might happen that an oath came out, when the angry vein was swollen; nevertheless, worldly gaiety was never permitted to go beyond bounds; the man would not suffer that. n.o.body read the Bible; though the man had a Bible which he had inherited from his pious mother and held in high honour; it had the chief place on his book-shelf; but it was made no use of, only now and then taken down to have the dust brushed off it. This man had a whole flock of children; and a wife who clung to him with such inmost affection, that many a time when she heard his step on the floor she would call him into the room where she was, and when he came in and asked what she wanted, would answer him, "Oh, I only just wanted to see you, and now you may go off again." In outward things he was pretty comfortable; made a living, but also had a good deal of a burden to carry; was a diligent worker, however, and by little and little got on in the world. He was not often seen at church or the Lord's Supper; yet did not absolutely neglect them. Nevertheless, the man had a special spite against _pious people_, of whom in his life he had known a few. Those pious people of his acquaintance can indeed not have been of the right sort; for from their example he had come to the firm persuasion that pious people, all and sundry, were no better than hypocrites. He used often to tell of a pious man he had known, who used to read a great deal in the Bible and in religious books, and used also to hold meetings for prayer in his house, while at the same time he was a miser and put out his money to usury.

Another one he had known, who in externals made as fair pretences; but with that was of such ungovernable temper and such unmeasured brutality that on more than one occasion he had beaten a man nearly to death.

Therefore, as I said, he held all pious people to be a humbug.'"

Meredith paused a moment, and Flora spoke up.

"There!" she said, "_I_ know such people. Don't you think, Mr. Murray, that sort of good people do more harm than good?"

"What sort of good people are they, Miss Flora?"