SHALL we go by the mill stream, uncle? I do like to see the fish jumping about as the stream runs from the miller’s wheel.”
“Very well, Harry; we will go there, if you wish. But we will take a walk down this shady lane, and that will take us by the back of the mill, then we have to go over a little plank that spans the stream.”
Harry was a little boy of eight years of age, who was fond of having a nice stroll with uncle along the country lanes, by the little brooks or streams that skirt the wild moors, or run through the cowslip-covered meadows like a silver thread. And nice little chit-chats they were, although sometimes Harry’s questions were easier asked than answered, for uncle did not know everything, you see, though little boys and girls sometimes suppose that uncles and aunts ought to know everything, if they don’t.
“What a pretty place that is, uncle,” said Harry, pointing to a little mansion that lay surrounded with trees and shrubs, over whose sides the busy little ivy and Virginian creeper and roses and sweet pea seemed to be trying their hardest to cover every brick and nook and corner with their flowers and leaves.
“Yes, Harry; and I always look on that house with pleasure, for when I was a little boy I used to go there every now and then, for a dear old clergyman lived there, and he would have some of us boys from the school to visit him, and many a little book his dear wife would give us, and in fruit time a pocketful of apple’s. I do believe he really loved us children, and he spoke so nicely to us whenever he met us in the street, and used to read the Bible with us and explain it, although we did not always understand him.
“But he had a son who was a cripple, and during his illness God led him to see what a sinner he was, and what a Saviour Jesus was, and he believed what God said, and was happy, and then he wanted to be a little glow-worm for Jesus, to shine in the darkness and bring others to Him.
“Well, he used to come to our Sunday school in the afternoon, and after the lessons were over he would speak to us, or read some book out of which he hoped to teach us the way to heaven. It is a great many years ago, Harry, but I remember his words and manner (so kind and loving that you could not help listening, and could not help understanding, too, what he spoke about) as though it were but yesterday. And when he prayed it seemed so real like, that he believed God would give him what he asked for; and God did so, for through that dear young man I was saved. Do you think I ought to be quite sure I am saved, Harry?”
“Yes, uncle, because Jesus says, ‘I give unto My sheep eternal life, and they shall never perish.’” (John 10.)
“That’s it, my boy; and lots of other texts, too, speak of the youngest believer in Christ.”
ML 07/29/1917