ANTONIO was a little Italian boy, who lived in a village not very far from Naples. Antonio's uncle and aunt live in England, and his three little cousins—quiet, serious-looking Luigi, roguish Alfonso, and ragged, wistful little Michele—come to my little Italian Sunday-school. It was Antonio's uncle who related the story I am going to tell you.
Antonio was very fond of figs, and, like some other boys, he did not always know when he had had enough of his favorite fruit. One day his father brought in a basket of fresh figs, and Antonio, who had already eaten a good many, wanted some more. But his father told him that to eat so many would not be good for him ; and then, knowing his little son was not to be trusted, hid the figs in a small room, which was only used as a lumber-room, and which was quite dark.
Antonio guessed where the figs were, and made up his mind to get them. Poor, foolish boy! it was in love for him, not in unkindness, that his father had refused what would be likely to do him harm, but Antonio cared neither for his father's command, nor for his own good; get those figs he would.
So when the good contadino's (a peasant) back was turned, his little son got a light, and opened the door of the dark room. A few moments more, he thought, and one of those delicious figs would be in his mouth!
But there was one thing Antonio had not thought of. In that little room his father kept stored up several pounds of gunpowder.
The disobedient boy opened the door, and went forward, light in hand, when in a moment there was a fearful sound like the crash of thunder.
Look! oh, look! What is it? For an instant the noise, dust and confusion were so great that nothing could be seen. Now all is still. All is still—and what is left? Nothing but four broken, ruined walls, and a poor little form lying crushed and helpless beneath the fragments.
. . . Antonio was not dead when they dug him out, but he only lived a few hours, and then his poor father and mother were left to weep over the lifeless body of the child, whose last act had been an act of disobedience.
Antonio had sold his life for a few figs, and he did not even get the price for which he had sold it.
You are very sorry for poor naughty Antonio, are you not? But, dear child, I want you to think of yourself, for in his sad, sad story you may read your own.
There are three things in the Italian boy's story, which begin with the letter “D," and the same three things are to be found in our own story.
What was the sin he committed?
Disobedience.
There were other sins mixed up with it, for sins generally travel in company; there was distrust of his father's love, and there was theft in intention, though he was prevented from carrying it out. Those were just the three sins which entered into Adam and Eve's hearts in the Garden of Eden, and they are in our hearts too. But the sin which the Italian boy actually committed was the one beginning with, D—Disobedience. Ask yourself whether you are not guilty of that great sin.
Then into what did Antonio's disobedience lead him? Into
Danger.
You have disobeyed God, dear child, and your sin has brought you into danger. Every day, every night, whether you are working or playing, eating, drinking, or sleeping, you are in danger.
And what came after danger?
Death.
Yes, Antonio is dead now—dead through his own sin.
Disobedience, danger, death. What a terrible chain! And the last two follow the first, Justas the links of a chain hold together.
But, thank God, though He is the very One you have disobeyed, yet He is able and willing to snap that strong chain for you. The Lord Jesus loved you so much as to bear the punishment, to die the death you had deserved, and if you will come to Him, owning your naughtiness, and thanking that precious Savior for dying in your place, then that strong chain will be broken forever, and you will be free.
Yes, instead of the three black D's, you will have three golden L's instead:
Life, Love and Liberty.
Won't you make the happy exchange? Won't you escape from the danger while there is time?
If, while poor Antonio's hand was on the handle of the door, someone had come up and shouted: "Antonio, come away! come away! there is gunpowder there: you will be killed if you take a light into that room," what would the little boy have done ? Oh! surely he would have run away from the place of danger as fast as he could, and if a grateful boy, he would have thanked the kind friend who warned him.
But what are you doing? You have been warned: oh, do escape to Jesus before it is too late! C. H. P.