'Tis written, man shall not live alone,
By the perishing bread of earth;
Thou givest the soul a richer food
To nourish the heavenly birth.
And yet to our fields of golden grain
Thou bringest the harvest morn;
Thine of'ning hand is the life of all,
For Thou preparest them corn.
R. EVANS'S farm was a curious old-fashioned place. The house was a large, rambling building, with many queer ups and downs, and with oddly-shaped windows in all sorts of unexpected places. And yet there was an aspect of homely comfort about the house not always to be found in far finer and more imposing-looking residences. At the back were the out-buildings-the sheds and cow-houses, the poultry-pen, the stables and pig-sties; while stretching away beyond these again were the home paddock, the drying-ground, and a small enclosed field, which went by the name of Hospital Meadow, on account of its being used for disabled animals that needed a rest.
With the farmer himself we made acquaintance two years ago at the meeting, when he spoke so kindly to Mary; and he was still the same good, honest, industrious, God-fearing man, never, forgetting in the claims and anxieties of his work, what he owed to the Giver of all, who sends His rain for the watering of the seed, and His sun for the ripening of the harvest.
Nor did he-as too many farmers are in the habit of doing-repine at Providence, and find fault with God's dealings if the rain came down upon the hay before it was safely carried, or if an early autumn gale laid his wheat even with the earth from which it sprang, ere the sickle could be put into it. Nor did he complain and grumble even when disease showed itself among the breed of small but active cattle of which he was justly proud, and carried off besides some of his fine sheep, destined for the famous Welsh mutton which sometimes is to be found on English tables.
In short, he was contented with what the Lord sent, and said with Job, when a misfortune occurred, " Shall we receive good at the hands of the Lord, and shall we riot receive evil? "
Of Mrs. Evans we have already spoken, and if we add here that she was a true helpmeet to her husband, in matters both temporal and spiritual, that is all we need say in her praise.
This worthy couple had three children. The eldest was already grown up; she was a fine girl, and a great comfort and help to her mother. The younger children were boys, who went to a grammar school in a town a mile or two away: they were manly, high-spirited little fellows, well-trained, and as honest and true as their parents.
Such, then, was the family into which our little Mary was welcomed with all love and kindness. She was shy and timid the first time, for the farm-house was a much finer place than any home she had hitherto seen; and there was an atmosphere of warmth, and there were delicious signs of plenty, which were unknown in Jacob Jones's poor little cottage, where everything was upon the most frugal, not to say meager, scale.
But Mary's shyness did not last long; indeed it disappeared wholly soon after she had crossed the threshold, where she was met by Mrs. Evans with a hearty welcome and a motherly kiss.
" Come in, little one," said the good woman, drawing her into the cozy, oldfashioned kitchen, where a kettle was singing on the hob, and an enticing fragrance of currant shortcake, baking for an early tea, scented the air.
" There, get warm, dear," said Mrs. Evans, " and then you shall go to the parlor, and study the Bible. And have you got a pencil and scrap of paper to take notes if you want them? "
" Yes, thank you, ma'am, I brought them with me," replied Mary.
For a few minutes she sat there, basking in the pleasant, cheery glow of the fire-light; then she was admitted to the parlor, where, on the table in the center of the room, and covered reverently with a clean white cloth, was the precious book.
It must not be thought from the care thus taken of it that the Bible was never used. On the contrary, it was always read at prayers night and morning; and the farmer, whenever he had a spare half-hour, liked nothing better than to study the sacred book, and seek to understand its teachings.
" There's no need to tell you to be careful of our Bible, and to turn over the leaves gently, Mary, I'm sure," said Mrs. Evans; " you would do that anyway, I know. And now, my child, I'll leave you and the Bible together. When you've learned your lesson for Sunday school, and read all you want, come back into the kitchen and have some tea before you go."
Then the good farmer's wife went away, leaving Mary alone with a Bible for the first time in her life.
Presently the child raised the napkin, and, folding it neatly, laid it on one side.
Then, with trembling hands, she opened the book, opened it at the fifth chapter of John, and her eyes caught these words, " Search the scriptures; for in them ye think ye have eternal life: and they are they which testify of Me."
" I will! I will! " she cried, feeling as if the words were spoken directly to her by some Divine voice. " I will search and learn all I can. Oh, if I had but a Bible of my own! " And this wish, this sigh for the rare and coveted treasure, was the key-note to a grand chorus of glorious harmony which, years after, spread in volume, until it rolled in waves of sound over the whole earth. Yes, that yearning in a poor child's heart was destined to be a means of light and knowledge to millions of souls in the future. Thus verily has God often chosen the weak things of the world to carry out His great designs, and work His will. And here, once more, is an instance of the small beginnings which have great results-results whose importance is not to be calculated on this side of eternity.
When Mary had finished studying the Scripture lesson for the morrow, and had enjoyed a plentiful meal in the cozy kitchen, she said good-bye to her kind friends, and set off on her homeward journey, her mind full of the one great longing, out of which a resolution was slowly shaping itself It was formed at last.
" I must have a Bible of my own! " she said aloud, in the earnestness of her purpose. " I must have one, if I save up for it for ten years! " and by the time this was settled in her mind the child had reached her home.
Christmas had come, and with it some holidays for Mary and the other scholars who attended the school at Abergynolwyn; but our little heroine would only have been sorry for the cessation of lessons, had it not been that during the holidays she had determined to commence carrying out her plan of earning something towards the purchase of a Bible.
Without neglecting her home duties, she managed to undertake little jobs of work, for which the neighbors were glad to give her a trifle. Now it was to mind a baby while the mother was at the wash-tub. Now to pick up sticks and brushwood in the woods for fuel or to help to mend and patch the poor garments of the family for a worn, weary mother, who was thankful to give a small sum for this timely welcome help.
And every halfpenny, every farthing (and farthings were no unusual fee among such poor people as those of whom we are telling) was put into a rough little money-box which Jacob made for the purpose, with a hole in the lid. The box was kept in a cupboard, on a shelf where Mary could reach it, and it was a real and heartfelt joy to her when she could bring her day's earnings-some little copper coins, perhaps-and drop them in, longing for the time to come when they would have swelled to the requisite sum-a large sum unfortunately-for buying a Bible.
It was about this time that good Mrs. Evans, knowing the child's earnest wish, and wanting to encourage and help her, made her the present of a fine cock and two hens.
" Nay, nay, my dear, don't thank me," said she, when Mary was trying to tell her how grateful she was; " I've done it, first to help you along with that Bible you've set your heart on, and then, too, because I love you, and like to give you pleasure. So now, my child, when the hens begin to lay, which will be early in the spring, you can sell your eggs, for these will be your very own to do what you like with, and you can put the money to any use you please. I think I know what you'll do with it," added Mrs. Evans, with a smile.
But the first piece of silver that Mary had the satisfaction of dropping into her box was earned before she had any eggs to sell, and in quite a different way from the sums which she had hitherto received. She was walking one evening along the road from Towyn, whither she had been sent on an errand for her father, when her foot struck against some object lying in the road; and, stooping to pick it up, she found it was a large leather purse. Wondering whose it could be, the child went on, until, while still within half a mile from home, she met a man walking slowly, and evidently searching for something. He looked up as Mary approached, and she recognized him as Farmer Greaves, a brother-in-law of Mrs. Evans.
" Ah! good evening, Mary Jones," said he; " I've had such a loss! Coming home from market I dropped my purse, and—"
" I've just found a purse, sir," said Mary; " is this it? "
" You've found a purse?" exclaimed the farmer, eagerly. " Yes, indeed, my dear, that is mine, and I'm very much obliged to you. No, stay a moment," he called after her, for Mary was already trudging off again. " I should like to give you a trifle for your hon— I mean just some trifle by way of thanks."
As he spoke, his finger and thumb closed on a bright shilling, which surely would not have been too much to give to a poor child who had found a heavy purse. But he thought better (or worse) of it, and took out instead a sixpence and handed it to Mary, who took it with very heartfelt thanks, and ran home as quickly as possible to drop her silver treasure safely into the box, where it was destined to keep its poorer brethren company for many a long year.
But the Christmas holidays were soon over, and then it was difficult for Mary to keep up with her daily lessons, and her Sunday-school tasks, the latter involving the weekly visits to the farm-house for the study of the Bible. What with these and her home duties, sometimes weeks passed without her having time to earn a penny towards the purchase of the sacred treasure.
Sometimes, too, she was rather late in reaching home on the Saturday evenings, and now and again Molly was uneasy about her. For Mary would come by short cuts over the hills, along ways which, however safe in the daytime, were rough and unpleasant, if not dangerous, after dark and in these long winter evenings the daylight vanished very early.
It was on one of these occasions that Molly and Jacob Jones were sitting and waiting for their daughter.
The old clock had already struck eight. She had never been so late as this before.
" Our Molly ought to be home, Jacob," said Molly, breaking a silence disturbed only by the noise of Jacob's busy loom. " It's got as dark as dark, and there's no moon to-night. The way's a rugged one, if she comes the short cut across the hill, and she's not one to choose a long road if she can find a shorter, bless her! She's more than after her time. I hope no harm's come to the child," and Molly walked to the window and looked out.
" Don't be fretting yourself, Molly," replied Jacob, pausing in his work; " Mary's out on a good errand, and He who put the love of good things in her heart will take care of her in her going out and in her coming in, from henceforth, even for evermore."
Jacob spoke solemnly, but with a tone of conviction that comforted his wife, as words of his had often done before and just then a light step bounded up to the door, the latch was lifted, and Mary's lithe young figure entered the cottage, her dark eyes shining with intelligence, her cheeks flushed with exercise, a look of eager animation overspreading the whole of her bright face and seeming to diffuse a radiance round the cottage, while it shone reflected in the countenances of Jacob and Molly.
" Well, child, what have you learned today?" questioned Jacob. " Have you studied your lesson for the Sunday school? "
" Ay, father, that I have, and a beautiful lesson it was," responded the child. " It was the lesson and Mr. Evans together that kept me so late."
" How so, Mary?" asked Molly. " We've been right down uneasy about you, fearing lest something had happened to you."
" You needn't have been so, mother dear," replied the little girl, with something of her father's quiet assurance. " God knew what I was about, and He would not let any harm come to me. Oh, father, the more I read about Him the more I want to know, and I shall never rest until I've a Bible of my own. But to-day I've brought home a big bit of the farmer's Bible with me."
" What do you mean, Mary? How could you do such a thing? " questioned Molly in amazement.
" Only in my head, mother dear, of course," replied the child; then in a lower voice she added, "and my heart."
" And what is the bit?" asked Jacob.
"It's the seventh chapter of Matthew," said Mary. " Our Sunday lesson was from the first verse to the end of the twelfth verse.
But it was so easy and so beautiful, that I went on and on, till I'd learned the whole chapter. And just as I had finished, Mr. Evans came in and asked me if I understood it all; and when I said there were some bits that puzzled me, he was so kind and explained them. If you like, mother and father, I'll repeat you the chapter."
So Jacob pushed away his work, and took his sold seat in the chimney corner, and Molly began some knitting, while Mary sat down on a stool at her father's feet, and beginning at the first verse, repeated the whole chapter without a single mistake, without a moment's hesitation, and with a tone and emphasis which showed her comprehension of the truths so beautifully taught, and her sympathy with them.
" Mark my words, wife," said Jacob that night, when Mary had gone to bed, " that child will do a work for the Lord before she dies. See you not how He Himself is leading and guiding His lamb into green pastures and beside still waters? Why, Molly, when she repeated that verse, Ask, and ye shall receive,' I saw her eyes shine, and her cheeks glow again, and I knew she was thinking of the Bible that she's set her heart on, and which I doubt not she's praying for often enough when we know nothing about it. And the Lord He will give it her some day. Of that I'm moral certain. Yes, Molly, our Mary will have her Bible!"