IT was twelve o'clock on Saturday night when the man Rogers came home. He opened the door of his back room, and stumbled in. It was quite dark, and as usual he flung himself down on what he supposed to be the old rug. True, he was rather surprised at not feeling the hardness of the boards, but he was not himself, for he had been drinking freely, and before five minutes were passed he was in a heavy sleep. The man knew nothing of what had happened through the day; and as it was the middle of the night, he did not notice that his wife was absent.
About three o'clock Ben was wakened by hearing Kit call him, "Oh! Ben, I'm so cold, I've got nuffin over me.”
"Hush," said Ben, "father's here; I'll soon make you warm, ducky. You come over here next father, he's got nearly all the blanket, but there'll be a little bit for you," and he scrambled over Kit, pushing her gently into the warm place, In a few minutes she was asleep; but the boy lay shivering there for an hour, with nothing to cover him but his little thin shirt. He was used to that sort of thing, and did not much mind suffering himself as long as his little Kit was comfortable. After a time his father turned round, and Ben ventured to put a little piece of the blanket over himself No wonder that the little boy did not sleep very soundly, and that by eight o'clock he gently roused Kit.
"Mousie," he said, "let's eat our breakfast and go out before father wakes. If we're quick we can manage it; I think it is a fine morning," and he climbed on a chair, by which means he could see a little bit of sky. "Yes, it's blue, so we'll go and watch the folks go in to church.”
After getting down a piece of bread, and breaking off a crust for each of them, he pushed the herrings and tea and sugar out of sight, and they both set out for their morning's walk.
First of all though, Ben, with intense pleasure, put on the little blue frock, and tied, with a sigh, the rimless hat round Kit's tiny face; after which he took off his own boots.
"I'm not going to wear any boots, Kit.”
"What for 'oo do that, Ben?”
"Why," said he, "we mayn't be able to get any more for a long while, and I can do without."
"Sal I take mine off?" exclaimed Kit.
"No, no," he answered quickly, "I wouldn't see your little feet in the mud for something. When your boots are quite worn out, you shall have mine; they'll be too big, but they'll be better than nothing.”
"Ben, I don't like 'oors to get dirty," said Kit, standing before him with a grave face and small folded arms.
"Oh, never mind that!" he cried, "I can wash them in the yard. It don't matter what boys do, but for little girls like you it's very different. I wish you had nice clothes like some of the children I see in the big streets, but then you'd have a servant to wait on you, and I should be of no use, so perhaps it's best as it is; anyhow, we love each other, don't we, Kit? better than most folks do.”
They turned out into the cheerless streets about nine o'clock. It was not raining, and that is all that one could say to recommend the weather; heavy clouds were passing across the sky, and a chilly north-east wind blew. Dirty children were playing or quarreling on the door steps and pavements; here and there an untidy woman appeared in the doorway to hail a costermonger, who was selling salt herrings and stale fish. Some were starting out to buy vegetables and meat for their Sunday, and perhaps their only, dinner of the week; others were fast asleep in their close rooms, the torn blinds, or threadbare shawl at the window telling that the family were not up.
The children passed along three or four dirty streets, till they reached a better neighborhood; the houses were rather larger, and more tidy, with iron railings in the front.
Ben led the little girl carefully by the hand, carrying her over the small pools and muddy places which lay in their way. At last they reached the church and school-rooms of the neighborhood. Plain old buildings they were, grimy outside, and dull inside. Few of the poor people could be persuaded to enter them, either on the Lord's day or during the week; but still the clergyman-who was a true Christian, and a kindhearted, earnest man-toiled on, getting a little encouragement from time to time, and seeking above everything his Master's approval, and the conversion of souls. His daughter, Miss Randolph, worked hard in the Sunday-school, and on the Lord's day morning and afternoon gathered many of the little ones together to hear the Good News. Ben and Kit seated themselves on the stonework outside the school-room to wait for the churchgoers.
"I don't think they'll come for a long time yet, Kit, so we had better keep here a little while, out of sight, for if a peeler sees us he'll be sure to order us off.”
"What do people go to church for?" said Kit, who thought Ben knew everything.
"Well," said he, speaking slowly, and not feeling very sure of his ground, "some go for one thing, some for another; mostly it's to hear the music, and to show off their fine clothes. If folks have grand things to wear, they like others to see 'em.”
Kit patted her blue frock in a contented manner.
"Ben, sal I go and let 'em see my f'’lock?”
"No, ducky, we won't go there, no one would care for us; but we'll follow these children and see where they go," said he, jumping her down.
They passed into a small school-room with a crowd of children, who took their places upon some low forms.
Evidently the teacher had not arrived, for most of the little ones were talking busily, or climbing over the benches, while some were quietly waiting her arrival. All kinds of children were there, and by half-past nine they numbered more than a hundred. There were neat, tolerably clean little children, with tidy heads of hair, without bonnets, hats, or jackets. There were a few who were smartly dressed, with bright ribbons or berries stuck in their hats, and clothes which had been regularly pawned every Monday morning and taken out on Saturday evening, when the week's wages came in. Most of them, however, were neglected, untidy looking children, whose mothers sent them to school merely for the sake of getting them out of the way.
As soon as Miss Randolph arrived, with her pleasant look and her bright happy face, there was a general hush, and then "Good morning, teacher," went round from one to another. The little ones greeted her lovingly, as if glad to see her again, and after two or three had presented her with little offerings- such as a sprig of "old man," gathered from some dusty back yard, or a weather-beaten apple-school began.
The children sang, “I think when I read. that sweet story of old," repeating it line by line after the young lady; Ben and Kit did the same, gazing at her in an awe-stricken manner, having seated themselves up one corner on the front form; then they all folded their hands, and repeated after their teacher, in a solemn manner, with subdued voices, a little prayer.
When they had said through several verses of Scripture, Miss Randolph said-
"I have a new text which I want you to learn this morning, and another this afternoon, also the first verse of a hymn. Any child who can remember them through the week and repeat them perfectly next Sunday, shall receive a book; now repeat altogether, 'He loved me and gave Himself for me.' It is a very short text, and one you can easily remember; and after I have asked you some questions about it, we will repeat it again.”
"Who was it that loved us?”
Some of the children answered "Jesus, teacher;" others were quiet.
"My little boy, you did not answer," said the young lady, looking at Ben.
"Tell me, who loved us?”
"I don't know," said the child, shaking his head. "No one loves me but Kit," he added, pointing to the little girl, who had nestled close to him.
The lady smiled; with such a large number of restless little beings to keep in order, she could not attend much to one at a time, so she answered-
"I do not think I have seen you here before, perhaps you do not know anything about the Lord Jesus;" and in a simple and earnest manner, she told them the "old, old story" of His love for sinners, and how He left His home in heaven to suffer, bleed, and die for them.
"You cannot see Him," she went on to say, but “He can see you, and watch over you all the day. You may be unhappy, you may be naughty, but if you go to Jesus and tell Him all about it, and ask Him to bless and help you, He will do it.”
"Please, m'am," said Ben, holding up his hand, “me and Kit would like to go, if you'll tell us the way; we're often unhappy, at least we used to be.”
"Well," she said, kindly addressing them all together, “Jesus loved you and gave Himself for you. You are sinners-that is, you have often done naughty things-and God must punish sin, and what you deserved was to die and go to hell forever; but God loved you, and Jesus loved you, and He came down into the world and suffered instead of you. He was punished so that those who love and believe in Him might never be punished; so that they may go and live with Him in His bright beautiful home forever. Now Jesus invites you to come to Him. You cannot see Him, but He is near to you, and you may thank Him for what He has done, and tell Him that you wish to please and serve Him as long as you live-that is what I mean by going to Jesus. Oh, dear little children, think how He loved you, so much as to give Himself for you. Will you not love and trust Him?”
The two little ones had, while she talked to them, sat with clasped hands, and eyes that never moved from the lady's face, and at her question both of them, with a few others, answered, "Oh, yes, we will.”
For two lonely, neglected, unloved, little children to hear suddenly that some One loved them so much that He gave His life for them, seemed wonderful news, almost too good to be true; and to hear that if they returned His love, and believed the good new; He would take them to a bright happy place, when they died, made them feel very happy.
Those who teach the little ones in a poor and ignorant neighborhood, if they teach faithfully and lovingly, must know of many, very young in years, who love and trust the Savior; whose greatest delight is in singing the little hymns they learn, and in hearing of the love of Jesus.
Parents who care nothing for these things, can tell of the almost babies who go to sleep at night repeating their, favorite hymns, and who sing them as soon as they are awake.
Let none who teach the infant children think it labor thrown away. It is while they are very young that the strongest impressions are received-impressions which will deepen as they grow up. No one can expect more in a little child than a simple loving trust in the Savior; faith which never doubts His word or His love. And is not this enough? He will deepen the work as the child grows up, and hears more of divine truth; or, should it be removed from those who would help it on in the right path, and should it wander from the Good Shepherd, in after years He will bring it back to the fold, when it has learned the evil of the old nature, and longs for the peace which passes all understanding.
I will give the entire hymn, the first verse of which the children learned that morning-
"Jesus, Lord, we come before Thee,
Much we need Thy tender care,
Fold Thy loving arms around us,
Gently in Thy bosom bear.
Blessed Jesus!
We are happy when we're there.
"We are very weak and sinful,
Lost and ruined without Thee,
But the precious blood can save us
Thou didst shed upon the tree.
Blessed Jesus!
Make us now its worth to see,
"Help us every day to please Thee,
Make us gentle, kind, and good,
Take us, when we die, to heaven,
Washed in Thy most precious blood.
Blessed Jesus!
Then we'll praise Thee as we would.”
They repeated the first verse over and over till they knew it perfectly, and their teacher told them to say it the last thing every night before they went to bed, and she would teach them the other verses on the two following Sundays.
Ben and Kit scarcely spoke till they reached their little dull back room, and had seated themselves on the window sill; their father was gone out and they were alone; then the little boy began.
"Well, Kit, did you ever hear such beautiful things before about that One who the lady called Jesus, who has been watching us and taking care of us ever so long, and we did'nt know it? What a good thing we went to school this morning; we'll always go, shall we?”
"Yes, Ben dear; she was a nice kind lady to tell us such nice fings. Can 'oo say 'em, so we can get a little book?”
"Oh, yes," he answered, "I tried very hard, and we shall say 'em again this afternoon I expect; let us try, Mousie." And they repeated perfectly the words, "He loved me and gave Himself for me," but at the fourth line of the hymn they stopped, and could get no further, so were obliged to look forward to the afternoon.
"Just think how nice it will be, Kit, if I have to go out in the wet and leave you for a little while, you'll never be alone I Jesus will be here, in this room, and will hear all you say. The lady said you can talk to Him, and He will listen.”
"The lady said He died," she answered; "how can Him hear if Him is dead?”
"Ah I don't know all about it yet," the little boy said, "but I'm sure He isn't dead now. She said God took Him back to heaven, and that He wants us to love Him and thank Him. Let's do it now; but we must shut our eyes, and kneel down, and put our hands together as those children did;" and kneeling down at the window sill, the two little ones put up their first prayer, and gave thanks for the first time to the One who gave Himself for them.
Ben began, "‘He loved me and gave Himself for me.' We thank you, Jesus, for doing this. We are two poor little children, who didn't know that anybody loved us, or we would have thanked you before; and the kind lady says you died for us, and will always keep by us, and will listen to what we say. We are glad to hear it. Help us to be good, and take us to your happy home one day. Amen.”