Mr. Amory's first letter was immediately followed by another, urging Edah to come to New York, if only for a few days as there were some matters of business which rendered her presence necessary, and inclosing funds for the journey. She was sorry to leave Brooksville just at this time, but there was no alternative, and she felt, too, that the companionship and sympathy of Milly would be the greatest possible comfort to her.
On consulting the school committee, no objection was made to giving the school a vacation of two weeks; longer than this Edah did not intend to be absent, as she was very desirous of being in Brooksville at Easter not only because Sam was to be baptized, but because she had promised to stand sponsor for two of her pupils, who were to be admitted to the fellowship of Christ's flock on that day. Mrs. Hildreth willingly took charge of her Sunday School class, and kind Mr. Bell, always anxious to smooth every thing for her, assured her that the vacation would be a real advantage, as they were desirous of making some repairs in the school-house, which could be made at no time so conveniently as now.
Pauline was now the only subject of uneasiness with Edah. She had not so far overcome her former perverseness but that sparks of it would occasionally break out, especially towards Susan, who was not always very reasonable or judicious with the child, and she feared that the two weeks of her absence would almost undo all she had done. At one time, she thought of leaving Pauline with Miss Gilmore, but a little reflection had shown her that this would be a direct affront to Susan, as implying that she was not to be trusted with the care of the child. She had finally decided, though with rather an anxious heart, to let matters take their course, when she received another note from Milly, saying—
"Father says he has forgotten whether or not be asked you to bring Pauline with you, but he desires that you will do so by all means, as it will give him the greatest pleasure to see her."
Edah held a consultation with Susan and Sam, before she showed this note to Pauline; but as they both cordially approved of the plan, she informed the little girl at the dinner-table that if she wished it, she could go to New York with her.
Polly's eyes sparkled, and her cheeks flushed—it was a felicity beyond her highest hopes; but in a moment a change came over her bright countenance—"Susan will be so lonely," she said.
"I shall have Sam to keep me company, you know," said Susan.
"Yes; but then he is away all day, and suppose you should be sick. I think, 'upon the whole,' sister," she said, trying to speak firmly, though her eyes filled with tears at the thought of the sacrifice she was making, "I had better not go."
"You are a darling girl, Polly," said Susan, kissing her, with tears in her own eyes, "and I love you dearly, but I cannot have you stay at home for me, my dear. If I am lonely, I can have Selina come and stay with me; and then you know you have learned to write now, and you can write me such nice entertaining letters from New York about all the things you see there."
Thus, it was finally settled, and Pauline was at liberty to run over to Miss Gilmore's, and pour out all her hopes and expectations into the ear of Selina, her bosom friend, while her sisters were busily occupied in preparations for the journey.
THE JOURNEY.
THE next day Edah and Pauline set out for New York, under the care of a gentleman from Raeburn, and arrived in safety, without any remarkable adventures, though Pauline found material enough for a very long and not particularly clear letter to Susan, which she accomplished with great labor the day but one after their arrival.
Edah was happy to find herself once more with her friend, though the meeting was a sad one. Still more severe was the necessary trial of visiting her guardian's house, formerly so pleasant, but now shut up and desolate, of looking over his papers and other property, and deciding what should be kept and what disposed of. In the former class were included all Mr. Liston's books, of which he had quite a fine collection, the pictures, her piano, and the furniture of her own room, and of Mr. Liston's sitting-room. These articles she intended to take with her when she returned to Brooksville, for she had quite decided to make her home with her mother and sisters as long as she could be of any use to them.
This point was not yielded by her friends in New York till after a long discussion. Mr. Liston's will, made a short time before his departure, and lodged in Mr. Amory's hands, provided that she should receive the income of her property, amounting to about twelve hundred a year, until she was twenty-three years old, after which she was to have the entire control of her own business. She was left at liberty to choose her place of residence, subject to the approbation of Mr. Amory, who was appointed her guardian, and the sole executor of the will. Mr. Amory had quite made up his mind that Edah was to reside with him in future. He considered her a pretty, well-informed young girl, who would be an ornament to his establishment, and a suitable companion to his daughter, of whom he was justly proud. It was, therefore, with some feelings of disappointment that he heard her announce her determination to return to Brooksville before Easter, and to make it her home for the present.
"I have but one motive in doing so," said she; "I am quite sure that I can be more useful there than anywhere else at present. Even if I had no other reason for it, I cannot for a moment think of leaving Susan with the care of mother on her hands, and no one to relieve her."
"You are under so many obligations to Mrs. Champlin," said Miss Concklin, with sarcastic emphasis; "no doubt you are right in discharging them. The society there must also be remarkably congenial to the taste of a young lady of education."
"I have no complaint to make of the people to Brooksville," replied Edah, gently. "They have always been very kind to me since I went there. They are not very fashionable, and perhaps not very polished, but I assure you, Miss Maria, I have friends there whom I should be sorry to lose."
Miss Maria elevated her chin a little, and gave utterance to some murmurs respecting refined tastes, which were not quite finished when she was called down to receive some visitors in the drawing-room, for which Edah was not at all sorry. She felt that she could express herself much more freely to Mr. Amory and Milly when Aunt Maria was out of the way.
"My principal reasons for returning to Brooksville," she continued, "are, as I said, first, to assist Susan in taking care of mother, and secondly, on my brother's account."
"I thought your brother was in a store, and doing very well," interrupted Mr. Amory.
"He is," replied Edah; "and Mr. Stuart, his employer, would gladly keep him, but Sam does not wish to remain, if he can help it. He has set his heart upon studying a profession."
"Oh, ho! And what profession does the young gentleman incline to?"
"He wishes to enter the ministry," replied Edah.
Mr. Amory shoved his spectacles up on his forehead, took them off, wiped them, and put them on again before he replied—
"And so he wishes to indulge this fancy at your expense, instead of earning his own living and that of his sisters, like an honest man. A most exemplary young man, truly!"
"You are very much mistaken, Mr. Amory," answered Edah, with spirit. "Sam has not the least idea of being burdensome to anybody. On the contrary, he has avowed his intention to continue in his present situation for some time, at least, and of carrying on his preparatory studies at the same time. If you had seen him at the time of our great misfortune—a time certainly trying enough to us all—if you had known any thing about his patience, and self-denial, and industry since—you would never dream of accusing him of any thing like meanness."
Edah's color rose, and her eyes filled with tears as she spoke, and Mr. Amory, looking through his spectacles, professed to himself that she was really a remarkably handsome young woman.
"Well, well, my dear," he said, soothingly, "I did not intend to make any unjust reflections upon your brother. I dare say he is a very fine young man. But how will your living in Brooksville make any difference in his pursuing his studies?"
"In this way," replied Edah. "Twelve hundred a year will be an ample income for us all to live upon in Brooksville, where every thing is so cheap, and where, moreover, I can earn something, if I wish to do so. Thus Sam will be at liberty to use his own earnings for his own purposes, and he can work his way through college easily enough by teaching, and the other means that young men resort to in such circumstances. I think, and so do Mr. Laurence and Mr. Willson, that he has talents which fit him to be eminently useful in the calling which he has chosen; and I am sure," she continued, with animation, "that I could not spend my income in any way which would give me so much satisfaction."
"Well," said Mr. Amory, "perhaps you may as well spend your time and means in making ministers as in manufacturing woollen cats, and dogs, and frogs—"
"Worsted, papa—worsted," interrupted Milly, laughing.
"Well, worsted, then—such as Maria lumbers up the house with," bestowing, at the same time, a vindictive glance upon Highland Mary, in Berlin wool, parting with her lover, on the back of a modern Gothic chair. "I honor your motive in this matter, my dear Edah, though, I confess, I regret that you have come to such a determination. Cannot your brother do as much good as a Christian merchant as he can in the capacity of a minister?"
"I think not, sir. There are a great many young men who are willing to remain merchants, and but few comparatively who are desirous of entering the ministry."
"Indeed," said Mr. Amory, "I am not altogether well-informed on such matters; but I had always supposed that profession to be entirely overfilled, like those of law and medicine."
"Not at all, sir. If you will look over the minutes of any of our Conventions, you will see that there are not nearly ministers enough to fill the places where they are needed. It is not generally a money-making profession; it does not hold out much prospect for fame, as not one minister in fifty ever becomes at all celebrated: it is a hard-working profession certainly; and in fact, there can be but one motive for entering it—that of doing good."
"And much good they do. I am not one of those who deny the value of the clergy; they are, beyond all question, one of the most useful bodies in the community, and their influence extends much further than is generally supposed. But, Milly, you have not said a word. Why do you not use your influence to persuade your friend to remain with us?"
"Because I rather think she is in the right, papa. I think I should do just so in her place."
"Upon my word, my own daughter has turned against me! Why, Miss Milly, I thought I was providing you with a great pleasure in inviting your friend to live with you."
"Yes, papa, and I am sure I am very much obliged to you; but if Edah should stay, against her conscience—"
"Or against her inclination—you think she would not be a very agreeable guest, eh? Well, my dears, we will not decide to-day; you have a week to spare in which to make up your minds. Are you a judge of organs, Edah?"
"No, sir," replied Edah, rather surprised; "I know when they are well toned, however."
"I am thinking of purchasing a small organ, and I should like to have you hear it first. You play the organ, I suppose?" Edah answered in the affirmative. "We will go down and look at it, and then take Miss Polly to see some more sights."
Edah remained a week longer with her friends in New York, her time being mostly occupied in superintending the packing of the furniture and other articles which she intended to take home with her.
Miss Maria, who really loved Edah, was at first very angry on hearing of her unalterable determination to return to her mother's house. But her anger was not very long lived, and she willingly undertook the whole business of providing Edah's mourning, and gave her whole time and attention to it for several days, thus relieving Edah herself of quite a burden, and leaving her at liberty for other matters.
The books and engravings, which were very valuable, were the objects of her especial attention, and she could not help smiling, in the midst of her tears, as she thought of the pleasure they would afford to Sam and Susan, and of the facilities which they would present to the former for pursuing his studies. She had written to them, communicating her intention of returning, and requesting them to have a large parlor, which had been for a long time unused, put in order for the reception of her treasures.
Pauline on her part was perfectly happy during the two weeks which she spent in New York. As she was really a very pretty and remarkably well-behaved child, she was in no one's way, and every one in the house petted her, from Mr. Amory down to the servants. It was Mr. Amory's perfect delight to take her to see all sorts of wonderful sights, and thus hear her speculations and questions about what she had seen. One day, however, he took her in the carriage through some of the poor and low streets of the city—those streets where Christian philanthropy has since made light out of darkness; and after this it was observable that Pauline's interest in New York declined. She no longer wished to live there always; but told her sister in confidence that she should be very glad to return to Brooksville, where, if there were no such beautiful houses and elegantly dressed ladies, there were no such dreadful places and people as she had seen that day.
"Only think, sister, Mr. Amory says that a great many of the little boys and girls I saw to-day were thieves, and had been in jails; and they did look wicked enough for any thing. I could not bear to live near such people, and not do any thing for them. Why do not good people go among them and try to make them better?"
"They wish to do so, my dear. I hear that some good ladies are trying to get up a school among them, in order to teach them better, as you say; but you must remember, Polly, that it is much easier to talk of doing good than to do it. Don't you remember how hard Mr. Laurence tried to make Joe Fisher sign the temperance pledge, and let his children go to places, and after all he did not succeed?"
"But we ought to try, sister, ought we not?" said Pauline.
"Certainly, my dear, we ought to do all we can, and every one can do something."
"Yes, they can pray, at any rate; and, sister, don't you think if all the Christians in the world were really to pray with all their hearts, a great deal more could be done? Don't you think God's kingdom would come a great deal sooner?"
"Yes, Polly, I have no doubt of it, and I am glad you think so much about it. I hope you will think more and more, and then when you grow up, you will be able to do a great deal for the Church—to be a living member of the same, as the Baptismal Service says. Then when Sam is a minister, you can help him very much, if you live with him."
"Is Sam going to be a minister?" asked Pauline.
"I presume he will, unless something unforeseen happens to prevent it. What do you think of it?"
"I think it will be very nice," said Pauline, with sparkling eyes; "but how will he do it? How will he get the money to go to college?"
"He will work and earn it, and I hope we shall be able to help him a little."
"I wish I could help him."
"You can, my dear; you can learn to sew nicely, and then you can help Susan and me to make his clothes with the pretty leather workbox Miss Maria gave you. Only think how glad he would be to have you make him a shirt all yourself!"
Polly had always disliked sewing very much; but now she was furnished with a motive for desiring to excel in it, and she earnestly resolved that it should not be long before she would sew well enough to make a shirt all herself. We are happy to inform our young readers that in about six months the feat was accomplished, and Sam actually wore a shirt of his little sister's manufacture, not failing to assure her that it was the nicest shirt he had ever had in his life.
The day before her return to Brooksville, Edah had a long conversation with Mr. Amory on the future prospect of the family. She was glad to find that though evidently sorry to lose her society, he gave his unqualified consent to her residing in Brooksville as long as she thought proper, only stipulating that she should make them a visit every year, a condition to which she very willingly agreed. He earnestly advised her to let Sam work his own way entirely.
"Depend upon it, my dear, he will preach all the better if he has to acquire his profession by his own labor. All our best men, in every condition of life, have been self-made, and if he has the talent and perseverance requisite for success in the calling he has chosen, he will get through his studies with no more difficulty than is good for him."
Though Edah did not promise not to assist Sam in any way, she thought Mr. Amory's view of the case a very sensible one, and resolved to act upon it to some extent.
Pauline cried heartily on bidding adieu to her new friends, and they were scarcely less sorry to part with her, so much had she endeared herself to them during her short stay.
They arrived in safety at Raeburn, where Sam was waiting for them with the wagon, and Edah was glad to find that all her boxes and packages had arrived in safety before her. Susan was standing at the gate watching for them, and welcomed them with as much warmth as if they had been absent two years instead of two weeks, and Mrs. Champlin herself came as far as the door to meet them. She was a little annoyed at first by the sight of Edah's deep mourning, and declared that it would make her low-spirited to have it always before her eyes; but she was easily diverted from this delicate topic by the sight of the books and other presents which Edah had brought her, and was soon wholly absorbed in the first volume of a new novel, leaving the children at liberty to attend to each other.
Ruby-Anne had provided an excellent supper, which was fully appreciated; and Pauline, on rising from the table, was heard to give utterance to the very original sentiment, that there is no place like home, after all.
The next day, and the next, were pretty fully occupied in unpacking and putting in order the furniture and other matters which Edah had brought home with her. Mr. Champlin's house was large, and had been a fine one in its day, but not more than half of it was at present in use, and the apartment selected by Edah for a library had been for some years used only as a lumber-room. But now that it was cleaned and painted, curtains put up, and a carpet laid down, and book-cases, chairs, cabinets, and tables all in their places, it was decidedly the handsomest room in Brooksville, and Ruby-Anne declared that there was nothing like it even at Spring Bank itself. It did, indeed, look very pretty and home-like, Edah thought, with its well-filled shelves, and tables covered with maps and engravings, its open piano and music-rack, and it was with a good deal of pride and pleasure that she introduced Mr. Laurence into it when it was all in order. That gentleman admired it to her heart's content, and after taking a full survey of the contents of the book-cases, settled himself in Edah's favorite chair, with an air of great contentment.
"So you have your piano, too: I am glad of that. Our new organ is up, and awaiting you, for of course you are expected to preside at it."
"An organ!" repeated Edah. "Have you an organ?"
"Yes, to be sure, and a very nice one. Why, you look as puzzled as possible. I supposed you knew all about it, for Mr. Amory, to whom we owe it, said that you had selected it, and I thought it did great credit to your taste."
"I did go to look at an organ, which he said he thought of purchasing," said Edah, "but I supposed he intended it for Milly. He gave me no hint of sending it here."
"Here it is, however, and we are all as proud of it as if we had made it ourselves. I have been drilling our young people a little in the chants, and I want you to practice them with the organ, that we may have them on Easter Sunday."
"I will do so, certainly, with a great deal of pleasure. How little I anticipated, when I came here, that in little less than a year I should attend the Faster Service in a church in this place! And even when I began my little Sunday School in mother's kitchen, I was told that I should not succeed in keeping it together three months."
"It is to that little school, under God, that we owe the present happy state of things, for so I may well call it, in Brooksville," said Mr. Laurence.
"You must not give me all the credit," said Edah, blushing. "I should never have succeeded but for Mr. Bell. It was more his work than mine."
"And how long did Mr. Bell live here without even thinking of such a thing? Mr. Bell himself says that his interest in religion was almost dead when you came, and that it was the pleasure which his little girls took in their Sunday school lessons, and the questions which they asked him, that first aroused him to a sense of his declining and dangerous position. If you keep on doing good here, as you have begun, this county will have reason to bless the time that you came into it."
"What have you decided to call the church?" asked Edah.
"St. John's is the name finally fixed upon," replied Mr. Laurence. "You will see it on the front of the church before Easter-day, in gilt letters, the work of Mr. Crampton's apprentice, who came to me, and desired to make his contribution in that form. He is one of those who are to be baptized, and your girl Ruby-Anne is another. We shall have ten or twelve in all, and I anticipate about an equal number of infant baptisms in the afternoon. And, by the by, what do you think of my plan of omitting the usual Sunday School exercises upon Communion Sundays, and devoting the time to the Catechism instead?"
"I like the idea very much," said Edah, "and I think that teachers as well as scholars will find the exercise a profitable one. How delightful it is to think of having regular Communion days once a month! Have you had any talk with Susan about baptism, Mr. Laurence?"
"Oh, yes, many times. She has been one of the most regular attendants upon my Thursday afternoon lectures since you went away, and I have also conversed with her at home. She seems almost determined, and yet she hangs back. I hardly think she will come forward this time, though I hope we shall soon have her among our number."
Susan herself entered the room as Mr. Laurence was speaking, and he continued, addressing himself to her—
"We were just talking of you, Miss Susan, and I was expressing a hope that at some future time, if not on the present occasion, we might see you among the professed followers of Christ. I only wish you could be persuaded that now is the accepted time, and the day of salvation."
"There is only one thing that hinders me," said Susan, coloring.
"And what is that one thing?"
"It is just this, Mr. Laurence. I have been so much opposed to any thing like a religious profession, and have said so much about it, that I am ashamed to come out on the other side. When Edah commenced her Sunday School, I did my best to hinder her, and laugh her out of it; and whenever I heard of any religious persons failing in any thing, or living inconsistent, I used to hold it up, and make the most of it, on purpose to annoy her, and I was perfectly delighted when I succeeded in putting her out of temper."
"But you would not do so now," said Edah; "you have not done so for a long time."
"Perhaps not; but still I cannot forget that I have done it, and I am afraid I might do the same again under temptation. In short, I am afraid I should be so inconsistent, that I do not like to begin."
"But my dear Miss Susan, you are no more likely to fall into temptation, because you have been baptized."
"I know it; but I think I had better wait till I am more stable and persevering."
"Where do you expect to obtain the strength to become stable and persevering?" asked Mr. Laurence. "Do you expect to make yourself so, or must the strength and grace come from God?"
"From God, certainly. I know very well that I cannot help myself."
"Then you expect this grace and favor from God, at the very time that you are refusing to obey two of His most distinct commands. He commands all men to be baptized; and the injunction, 'Do this in remembrance of Me,' cannot be obeyed till the other is first complied with. Is there not a great inconsistency here?"
"There seems to be certainly," said Susan, thoughtfully. "I never thought of it in that light."
"Is it not the true light?"
"I think it is myself. Well, Mr. Laurence, I will consider the subject a little more, and make up my mind. You will allow that I have every motive to consent, as if I do not, I shall soon be the only heathen in the family. But if I hesitate, it is only from the fear of doing wrong, and not from any indifference, I assure you."
THE EASTER SERVICE.
EASTER morning rose clear and bright in the village of Brooksville, and the hills which inclosed the valley seemed to put on their most smiling aspect, to welcome in the Resurrection Morn. The season was remarkably forward, and many early flowers were in blossom, while the air was filled with the fragrance of the blossoming fruit-trees, and the songs of birds.
Edah rose earlier than usual, for she felt anxious, by devotion and meditation, to prepare herself for the full enjoyment of the day's solemnities. After her usual prayer and reading, she seated herself by the open window, and endeavored to compose her mind to a realization of the blessings she enjoyed, and the labors yet before her.
Last Easter she had been at school; she had attended church on that day, but it had been only as a spectator of the devotions of others;—the sermon had pleased her, but it was only as a specimen of finished eloquence that she admired it; and when the invitation was given for the followers of Christ to draw near, and with thankful hearts to celebrate their Passover, she had turned away with the crowd, who thus proclaimed that they had no part nor lot in the matter. The remaining hours had been spent in miscellaneous reading, or in preparing some school exercise, and she could not remember that, during the whole day, she had bestowed one thought upon the great event it was intended to commemorate.
What would she have said, had some supernatural power spread before her eyes, at that time, the scenes through which she had just passed, and the labors in which she had since found her chief pleasure—had some one told her that in less than a year she would find herself the painstaking mistress of a district school, and devoting all her fortune to the single object of educating her then almost unknown brother for the ministry? As she contrasted her thoughts and feelings and pleasures then, with those which possessed her now, the present seemed like a dream, and she almost expected to wake in the old familiar room at W.
But the striking clock warned her that it was time to wake and dress Pauline for church.
Before breakfast, the whole family, including Ruby-Anne, assembled in the library, when, after reading a portion of Scripture and singing a hymn, they all knelt in prayer—the first time that the family-altar had ever been erected under that roof. The absent father was not forgotten in their petitions, and then it was that Edah first felt a hope that the wanderer might one day return to the family he had forsaken, a wiser and better man.
There was not much conversation at breakfast, for all were occupied with their own thoughts. Mrs. Champlin alone seemed unconcerned, and Edah exerted herself to entertain and amuse her mother, in order that the others might be left to their own reflections.
The children felt no fear at leaving their mother alone in the house: although her derangement had become more decided in its character, she was more quiet than formerly, and much easier to manage, employing herself chiefly in reading and writing, to which last she had lately taken a great fancy, which they took care to encourage. Edah had purchased a pretty new desk for her in New York, well furnished with conveniences and elegancies. This she now placed before her for the first time; and as she witnessed the childish delight with which she examined it, and began arranging its contents, she felt satisfied that Mrs. Champlin was provided with an agreeable employment for the whole day.
They proceeded to church, hoping to be there early, but were surprised to find nearly the whole congregation collected. The choir, well drilled in their respective parts, were assembled round the organ, with their books in their hands; and little Jacob Crampton, who had received the appointment of organ-blower, was at his post, with his hand on the handle, feeling all the pride of office, and ready to commence operations as soon as he should receive the signal.
A good many little heads, and some large ones, were twisted round, when Edah began the voluntary, and all her resolves could not keep her from feeling a little nervous, but she acquitted herself to her own tolerable satisfaction, and to the evident delight of her hearers. She had felt some anxiety about her choir, as they were all young, and some of them had never heard chanting before; but all went off exceedingly well, especially the Easter Chant, "Christ our Passover, is sacrificed for us." And after the first was through, she began to feel at ease, and at liberty to give her attention to something else.
After the close of the second lesson, Mr. Laurence advanced to the chancel rails, and requested the candidates for Baptism to come forward with their sponsors. There was a stir in the little congregation, as bonnets were removed and Prayer-Books taken: one group waited for another, and finally, by a simultaneous movement, all together rose and advanced up the aisle. Mr. Bell went with his two boys, as he called them, Robert Raymond and John Downing; Mrs. Bell with her unmarried sister who had spent part of the winter with her; Edah accompanied her sister and Ruby-Anne, while Mr. Stuart was Sam's chosen witness. The others were Mrs. Hildreth, Mr. Crampton, with his wife and apprentice, black Jacob's eldest daughter Sally, two of Edah's school-girls, and last not least Charley Strong, whose pale face and wasted figure perhaps attracted more notice than all the rest. It was the first time he had appeared in Brooksville since the Sunday when Mr. Downing had seen him riding home with Mr. Laurence from church.
The candidates and their witnesses made quite a crowd around the chancel, where they remained standing till a short address had been made and a hymn sung, when they returned to their seats, and the service continued: A stranger would have been struck by the great earnestness with which the responses were made, and the unanimity with which the congregation rose and knelt. This was in a great measure owing to Edah's example, and that of the children and young people whom she had instructed.
We have been before now in Episcopal churches, where the responses were only a faint inarticulate murmur, and where the congregation paid so little attention to the prescribed position that we had some difficulty in realizing where we were. It may perhaps be a matter of minor importance, but we do confess a dislike to see one-half the congregation sitting during the Psalms and Hymns, and not rising even at the Gloria Patri, or the Creed. It may undoubtedly be the case that some persons are unable to stand through the Te Deum and we have now and then, when in feeble health, been obliged to sit down before the close of the Psalms; but we can hardly imagine that any one who is well enough to come to church at all should be unable to maintain the proper position during the recitation of the Apostles' Creed.
Mr. Laurence's sermon was appropriate to the occasion; and at the close of it, he addressed himself particularly to those who were then and there to receive the Communion for the first time. He exhorted them always to remember the profession which they had just made, and the vows which they had taken upon themselves. He reminded them that they had not only renounced the service of the world, but they had taken upon themselves the service of God, and they were bound to labor for Him and for His Church, as long as they remained on the earth, looking unto Him for strength and wisdom to do His work. He bade them remember that they were no longer their own, but bought with a precious price, and that henceforth they had no right, as they should have no desire, to live to themselves. Whatever they ate or drank, or whatever they did, they were to do all to the glory of God: in the workshop or in the field—at home or abroad—in their places of business or in the house of God—they were to have Him always before them, and to lose no opportunity of advancing His cause, with their time, their means, and their talents. Thus when they came to render up their account, they would do it with joy and not with grief, and though they might perchance go forth weeping, and bearing their precious seed, they would surely come again with joy and great gladness, bringing their sheaves with them.
"God," said he, "has been pleased by the exertions of a faithful few to set His Church in this place, so long without the sound of the Gospel. The little seed, planted in faith and self-denial, has sprung up and begun to bear fruit; it will depend greatly upon you, whether the plant shall become a great tree, so that the fowls of the air may lodge in the branches thereof, or whether it shall wither for lack of earth and moisture. Should this ever happen, your last state will be worse than the first; but I trust it will never be. Stand, then, having your loins girt about with truth, and having on the breastplate of righteousness, and your feet shod with the preparation of the Gospel of Peace; above all, taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench the fiery darts of the wicked, and take the Helmet of Salvation and the Sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God. Be faithful and watch unto prayer, yea, be faithful, and He who has called you from death unto life shall give you a crown of glory in that day when He shall come to judge both the quick and the dead, saying—
"'Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the Kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. Ye have been faithful over a few things—I will make you ruler over many things; enter ye into the joy of your Lord!'"
Our task is done for the present. We have traced in these pages the path of a young girl, with no peculiar advantages, with some faults, and many weaknesses. We have seen her, though professedly and by Baptism a member of Christ, spending some of her best years in forgetfulness of Him. We have seen her suddenly aroused by the power of the Spirit of God, alive to a sense of her great sin, seeking instruction, and finding at last peace in believing. We have seen her acting no more from the caprice of the moment, from a refined selfishness, or, at best, from simple good impulses, but guiding all her actions by the one great principle of glorifying God. We have seen her under the influence of this motive, renouncing innocent and refined pleasures for the sake of nursing the sick, comforting the afflicted, and teaching the ignorant—bearing with misconstruction and ridicule, overcoming evil with good, and perverseness with love, till we have seen, at last, a family-altar raised, where once the name of God was never spoken, save in profanity, and a well-filled church adorning the beautiful valley, where, for many years, there had been a famine, not of bread nor of water, but of hearing the word of the Lord. And now may the Author be permitted to linger a moment longer, for the purpose of saying a few words to the younger part of her readers, and especially those of her own sex?
You, my dear young friends, have put on Christ in Baptism, and been signed with the Sign of the Cross, in token that hereafter you might not be ashamed to confess the faith of Christ crucified. Many have acknowledged, in the solemn rite of Confirmation, that the promises made in your name at your Baptism are binding upon you. Some of you, perchance, have even received the Sacrament of Christ's most blessed Body and Blood. Will you not now pause and ask yourselves, in all honesty and sincerity,—
"What am I doing to fulfil my baptismal vow? How many battles have I ever fought under Christ's banner against sin, the world, and the devil? Has the coming of that blessed time when all shall know Him, from the least to the greatest, ever been hastened one moment by my exertions? Have I, since I became a member of Christ's Church, ever made one sacrifice, or denied myself one gratification, or labored one hour for the salvation of souls?"
I fear there are many, yes, some even of my own acquaintance, who cannot honestly answer these questions in the affirmative. To such I would say, Is not your position rather a singular one? Members of Christ, yet having none of His Spirit; heirs of God, and living as if you had no hope and no expectation of any thing beyond this life; inheritors of the Kingdom of Heaven, yet with all your treasures upon earth! Now, if any man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of His; and dare you say that you have that Spirit, when you have never yet spent one hour as He spent all his hours when He was here among men? He purchased His Church with His own blood: you have never yet lifted a finger for it; and can you, then, imagine that your Church-membership will be any thing to you but a savor of death unto death?
Nor can you properly plead as your justification ignorance of the way to do good. Wilful ignorance is no excuse, and yours must be wilful if it exist at all. A little thought might show you more ways than one in which you might be useful, and your pastor is always ready to advise you, and put you in the right way. Is there a Sunday School in your parish, and if there is, what have you done for it? If you are a pupil, do you set an example of regular attendance and good lessons? Do you pray for your teachers and your classmates? If you are a teacher, are you doing all you can, by study, by prayer, by regular attendance, and by visiting your pupils, for the good of your class? If you are not a teacher, cannot you become one? Are there no young people of your acquaintance to whom you may say a word upon the all-important subject of personal religion? Are there no poor children coming to your door with baskets to beg, over whom you may obtain an influence for good—whom you may teach to read and to sew—whom you may persuade to attend the Sunday School, and clothe decently that they may be able to do so?
I have mentioned but a few out of the many ways of doing good that constantly surround us, but I shall wonder if, even in this short catalogue, there cannot be found some work that you can do—something that, perhaps, you have never yet thought of doing. Then put your hand to the work, and be not discouraged nor faint, though you find it hard and unpromising at first, and though in the course of months you may seem to effect nothing. Be no longer the barren fig-tree, which only occupies uselessly the garden of the Lord, lest He should one day say—
"Behold, I come these many years seeking fruit, and finding none. Cut it down: why cumbereth it the ground?"
Rather let it be said of you, as was said of one of old, whose memorial was to be cherished wherever the Gospel was preached—"She hath done what she could."
FINIS.