RATHER more than a hundred years ago, I think it was in the year 1788, a New England home was gladdened by the coming of a baby boy, who received the name of Adoniram. Baby's father and mother, Mr. and Mrs. Judson, were earnest Christians, who received their precious little one as a loan from the Lord, and really desired to train it up for Him.
The child thus wisely and lovingly trained, soon began to take an interest in Bible stories, and it must have been a pretty sight to watch the little fellow, even before he was quite three years old, listening with deep attention to his mother's voice as she told him in very simple words some Bible history, such as that of Joseph and his coat of many colors. We can almost seem to see the look of awe and wonder that would come over the child's face, uplifted to his mother's, as he heard of Samuel and his early call by God.
His mother taught him to read; he learned so quickly that, when little more than three years of age, his father having been away from home for a few weeks, Adoniram was able on his return to surprise him by reading a chapter in the New Testament. At four years of age he would gather the neighbor's children together and hold a meeting, at which his mother remembered in after years the hymn he almost always gave out was one beginning with the line:
"Go preach my gospel, saith the Lord.”
He had hardly reached his seventh birthday when a friend gave him a book called "Easy Lessons in Astronomy." What he read filled him with wonder and delight, though at times he got a good deal puzzled. One statement in the book gave him a lot of trouble. He read that the earth is a sphere, and that it moves round the sun. He tried hard to think it out, but all to no purpose, so talked it over with his little sister. “Does the sun," he asked her," move at all?" The child replied," Yes, I am sure it does, for I can see it." But the boy shook his head gravely, and said," That will not do. I must have some proof. I cannot trust my eyes, they have deceived me more than once.”
A day or two later he was missing at the family dinner-hour. "Where is Adoniram?" his mother asked, but in vain; no one had seen him for several hours. At last his father, growing uneasy at his long absence, went to look for him. After crossing two or three fields he found Adoniram stretched at full length on his back, looking through a hole he had cut in the crown of his hat, his eyes swollen and half blinded by the great heat and light. "What are you doing?" his father inquired in a tone of stern reproof. "Only looking at the sun," the boy replied, as he rose and calmly followed his father to the house. During the evening he whispered to his sister, "I have it now.”
Mr. Judson, who seems to have been a man of few words, was so much pleased with the report Adoniram brought home from school in his tenth year, not only of diligence, but of progress in all his studies, that, placing his hand on the head of his little son, he said with more than usual tenderness, "You will be a great man one day, Adoniram.”
Little did that father know how honored a servant of the Lord that son would one day become, or how many souls he would in the hands of God be the means of leading out of the darkness of heathenism into the light of the gospel.
Space will only allow me to give one or two from among many recorded incidents of young Judson's school-days. He got on so well with his arithmetic as to stand at the head of his class. A lawyer from a neighboring city one day visited the school and gave the boys a difficult sum in one of the more advanced rules, offering a reward of a dollar (about four shillings) for a correct answer. The day following was a holiday, and Judson shutting himself up in his room, covered his slate with figures and was soon hard at work. Hour after hour he toiled on, only stopping for a few minutes when called to meals, but without getting the wished-for result. Many, perhaps most boys, would have said, "This stupid old sum won't come right," and gone off to play. But Adoniram Judson never even thought of giving up, and kept on till bed-time. Early the next morning he was again at work. After breakfast, his mother, whom he loved dearly and was anxious to please, asked him if he would mind going into the nursery to amuse his little brother who was very ill, while she went to attend to some household duties.
He went cheerfully, and was soon sitting on the nursery carpet building a two-story house with toy bricks, but still trying to think out the troublesome sum. The house was not more than half finished when the boy sprang to his feet with a bound that sent the bricks rolling all ways, and made the wee sufferer start with surprise, exclaiming, "I've got it," and ran off to write out the answer, the prize to his great delight being soon after awarded to him.
The boys who were his class-mates often spoke of him in after years as a quiet, thoughtful boy who did not care much for their games, and was much more frequently to be found during play-hours reading a favorite book in some quiet corner than taking part in any of their sports, though he could play cricket, and his kindness to any of the boys who found it hard work to keep up with their class-mates rendered him a general favorite.
The son of Christian parents, he had many opportunities of hearing the way of salvation through faith in Christ. He often read his Bible too, but it was not till some years after the time you have been reading about that Judson (the future Indian missionary) really came to Jesus. In my next chapter I hope to tell you the story of his conversion to God; but just now I am going to ask you to turn with me to another New England home, where a girl of six was learning her lessons, feeding the chickens, or running errands for mother.
What a restless little creature that child must have been. So full of fun and energy, liking above all things a ramble in the woods, often returning home with torn frock and scratches on her hands that told their own tale of a forced passage through a tangle of blackberry bushes, or a climb up some slippery bank in quest of wild flowers.
But I do not want you to think of Ann Haseltine as an idle, careless little girl. Her love of books was greater even than her love of rambling. A retentive memory enabled her to learn her lessons with ease. She attended a good public school, passing rapidly from class to class till, at the age of thirteen, she stood high in every class she attended. Still a cloud would come over that bright young face, and her heart would ache with a dull sense of sorrow and disappointment.
What could be the cause of her trouble? She had a sheltered, happy home, loving friends, and many nice and pleasant things. I think she was learning for herself the truth of words written many, many years ago by one who had tried the world and all its pleasures and found they could not satisfy. They are not Bible words, I know, but I believe they have been made a blessing to numbers of souls. I am sure they have to me; you shall read them for yourselves,
“Lord, thou hast formed us for thyself, and we are restless till we find our rest in thee.”
After these seasons of soul trouble, Ann H. would make any number of resolutions. From being quite a child, she had been careful to speak the truth and never forgot to say a form of prayer. But she knew something more was needed.
Being a bright, lively girl, she was often invited by her young friends to parties, which she took great delight in attending. Sometimes she would refuse an invitation to one without giving any reason, but really because she thought God would be pleased with her for doing so. At other times she would take part in worldly amusements and try to make herself and others believe she was really happy.
I cannot stay to write, and if I could you might not care to read of all the soul exercises through which Ann passed before she saw God's way of peace and went to Christ, just as she was, a lost, guilty sinner.