Chapter Seven.

Charlie’s Disappointment.

“O sweet and blessed country
That eager hearts expect.”

One cold winter’s evening about Christmas time, Charlie, a little boy of six years old, sat reading with his mother. It was Sunday evening, and he had been looking at the pictures in his “Children’s Bible,” till his mother put down her own book and began to read verses to him out of his real Bible, in explanation of some of the pictures. With one of these especially, Charlie was very much pleased. It represented a great many people, men and women and children, and animals of every kind, all together, looking very peaceful and happy in a beautiful garden. Charlie could not pronounce the word at the foot of the picture; it was so very long.

“The—what is it, mother?” he asked.

“The Millennium,” his mother told him, and then she went on to explain what this long word meant, and read him some strange, beautiful verses about it, out of the big Bible. Charlie sat with his blue eyes fixed on her, listening to every word, and thinking this the most wonderful story he had ever heard yet. “And it is not like a fairy story, is it mother, for it is in the Bible? Oh, I do so wish God would let the millennium come now—immediately—mother, while I am a little boy, and you, just like what you are! I should not care nearly so much for it if you were old, mother, or if I was a big man.”

“I hope, my darling, the bigger you get the more you will care for it,” said his mother. Charlie looked puzzled, but seeing that he was thinking so deeply, that she feared he would think away his sleep (as he sometimes did, and it was nearly bed-time), she went to the piano and sang his favourite hymn—

“Jerusalem the golden,
With milk and honey blest.”

Charlie listened with delight; and when it was over went and kissed his mother for good-night, and trotted off to bed, his mind full of the words he had been hearing.

It felt cold at first, in his little crib, and he began thinking how nice it would be if the summer were back again. But he soon fell asleep. It seemed to him that he woke almost in a minute, and he felt surprised to see that there was already broad daylight in the room. Indeed, he felt exceedingly surprised, for these dark winter mornings he always woke before dawn, and now the sun was shining brightly, as if it had been at work for some hours. It looked so pleasant and cheerful that he lay still to enjoy it. Now I must tell you that Charlie had a baby brother, and that both these little boys were taken care of by a good old woman who had been nurse to their mother when she was a little girl. Nurse was very good and kind and true, but I must say that sometimes she was very cross. Perhaps it was that she was getting old, and that little boys teased her, not being always able to remember about being gentle and good: that is to say, Charlie himself, for the baby was really too little either to remember or forget. Nurse’s worst time was first thing in the morning; she nearly always had a cross face on when she came to wake Charlie, and to tell him to get up. He once heard some of the servants saying that nurse very often got out of the wrong side of her bed; and that day he vexed her very much without knowing why, for, after thinking a long time about what it could mean, he went all round her bed to see if there could be any nails or sharp pieces of wood sticking out at one side, which perhaps hurt her feet as she stepped out. Nurse came in while he was examining her bed, and when he told her what he was doing, and what he had heard Anne say, she was really very angry indeed, though he could not see that he had done anything naughty.

But this morning I am telling you about that Charlie lay in bed thinking how pretty the sunlight was, he was quite surprised to see nurse’s face when she came to the bedside to wake him. She spoke so sweetly, and really looked quite pretty. Her face had such a nice smile and looked so kind, and nearly all the wrinkles were gone.

“Dear nurse,” he said, “how nice you look!” This seemed to please her still more, for she kissed him, and then washed and dressed him, without once pulling or pushing him the least little bit; just as if she had never felt cross in her life.

When he was dressed he ran out into the garden, and, to his surprise, it was quite changed from the night before. The grass was bright and green, the trees were all covered with leaves, and the whole garden was full of the loveliest flowers he had ever seen; and the singing of the birds was prettier than he could possibly describe. There were many butterflies and other summer insects flying about, and making a delicious sort of sweet humming, which seemed to join in with the birds’ singing. Indeed Charlie could almost have believed the flowers themselves were singing, for a lovely music filled the whole air, and all the musicians, even the grasshoppers, kept in tune together in a wonderful way. The song sounded to Charlie very like “Jerusalem the Golden,” only there were no words. He ran about the garden so much, that at last he thought he would like a drink of new milk, and he went into the yard to look for the dairy-maid. There was no one there; but he forgot all about the milk, in astonishment at what he saw. “Tiger,” the great fierce watch dog, whom his papa would never let him go near, was unchained, lying peacefully on his back in the sun, and Charlie’s two lovely kittens rolling over and over him, Tiger patting them gently with his paws, and looking so pleased that Charlie almost thought he was smiling. And more wonderful still, his mother’s pet canaries were also loose in the yard, one hopping about close to Tiger’s nose, and the other actually perched on the back of Muff, the tabby cat, whom, all her life, his mother had never succeeded in curing of her sad love of eating canary birds. Charlie’s first thought was to drive away Muff and rescue the birds; but as he ran forward to do so, Muff came and rubbed herself gently against him with a soft, sweet purr, and the canary flew off Muff’s back on to his shoulder, where it gave a little trill of pleasure, and then flew back again to its friend the cat. Suddenly some words flashed into Charlie’s mind: “They shall neither hurt nor destroy,” he said slowly, and then it all seemed plain to him. “The Millennium has come,” he cried, with inexpressible joy, “Oh! how glad I am; I must run and tell mother this minute,” and off he set. But as he ran towards the house, glancing up, thoughtful for others as was his habit, to the window of his mother’s room, he saw that the blind was still drawn down, and remembered that he must not disturb her yet, though his little heart was bursting with impatience to tell her the beautiful news. “I might, any way, run and tell Lily at once,” thought he, and he set off at full speed towards the farm where his little friend lived. But he had not gone half way when he recollected that to get to Lily’s home he must pass the smithy, a place he was frightened to go near even with his nurse, for Black Tom, the smith, was a very terrible person. He was often intoxicated, and used then to swear most awfully; and, indeed, Lily had once told Charlie in confidence that her nurse had said she felt pretty sure Black Tom would not think anything at all of eating little boys and girls. Dreadful as he thought him, Charlie could not believe that Black Tom was quite as wicked as this; but still he trembled as he drew near the smithy. But how amazed he felt, when he got within sight of it, to see Tom standing at the door, washed and brushed up to such an extent, that the child hardly recognised his old aversion!

Tom’s employment was more wonderful still. He was playing with Lily, who was sitting perched upon his shoulder, laughing and screaming with delight. As soon as she saw Charlie she slid down, and holding Tom’s great rough hand in her tiny one, pulled him along the lane towards her little friend.

“Tom is not exactly a bear or a lion,” thought Charlie, with a somewhat misty recollection of one of the verses his mother had read to him, running in his head; “but he’s quite as fierce, and it says ‘A little child shall lead them.’”

“O Charlie!” exclaimed Lily, when she drew near, “Tom is so good. I have been riding on his back up and down the lane ever so long, and do look what a nice, pretty clean face he has got!”

But Charlie felt so eager to explain to Lily what he knew to be the cause of this extraordinary transformation, that he could not wait to speak to Tom.

“Come along the lane with me Lily,” he said, “I have wonderful things to tell you.”

So the two trotted off together, Tom smiling after them. A little up the lane the music of the birds and insects, and flowers, which Charlie had been hearing all the morning, sounded clearer and fuller than ever; and somehow Lily seemed to know of herself, without his telling her, all about the Millennium having come, even though she was such a little girl, only five years old.

“Isn’t the music beautiful, Lily? Don’t you think it is ‘Jerusalem the Golden?’”

“I have been thinking all the morning that it was ‘There is a happy land,’” replied she, “but look, Charlie, at that great white thing coming along the road.” Just where they had got to, the lane ran into the highway, and looking where Lily pointed, Charlie saw the great white thing she spoke of, moving towards them. As it came nearer they saw that it was a crowd of children, of all ages and sizes, dressed alike in pure white, which shone in the sun as they marched along. They sang as they walked, and Charlie thought he heard the words—

“For ever and for ever,
Are clad in robes of white.”

One little boy, somewhat in advance of the others, as soon as he caught sight of Charlie and Lily, ran forward to meet them, and Charlie saw that it was his friend, little Frank Grey, the miller’s son.

“O Charlie!” he exclaimed, “are you there already? We were coming to fetch you and Lily. You must come with us.”

“Where are you going to?” said Charlie.

“Don’t you know?” said Frank. “We are all going to meet the Prince, who is coming this morning to live among us.”

“The Prince of Wales, do you mean?” asked Charlie.

“O no!” replied his friend, “a greater Prince than he is. The Prince of the Golden City.”

“Is that the same as ‘Jerusalem the Golden,’ do you think?”

“I daresay it is,” said Frank, “but the Prince has a great many names, each more beautiful than the other. Some call him the ‘Prince of Peace.’”

“I know that name,” said little Lily, softly, “it is very pretty.”

“But,” said Charlie, “you are all so beautifully dressed. Lily and I must run home for our best frocks first.”

“O no!” said Frank, “you are just as nicely dressed as we are.” And Charlie looked down at his own clothes and Lily’s, and saw to his surprise that both their dresses were of pure shining white, like those of the other children. It puzzled him a good deal, for he felt sure he remembered his nurse putting on his little plaid stuff coat and brown holland pinafore that morning. But a new thought struck him. “Don’t you think, Frank, I had better run home and tell mother, for fear she should not like me to go?”

“O no!” again answered Frank; “she is sure to let you go, for all the boys and girls in the country are coming, and we have several more to call for still; besides the fathers and mothers themselves will soon be coming after us in another procession, so you will see your mother directly.”

Quite happy now, Charlie and Lily joined the children, marching all in twos and twos, keeping time to the music they were singing, which Charlie felt sure was “Jerusalem the Golden,” though Lily would sing “Happy Land,” for all he could say to her. However, it did not matter, for it seemed to do just as well, and all their voices suited beautifully. They went on as happily as could be, not feeling the least tired, though it was a good way. Charlie was turning to ask Frank some more questions about the Prince they were going to meet, when he was startled by some one calling him from behind, “Charlie! Charlie!” the voice sounding rather sharply, and seeming to jar against the sweet singing. He looked round, and there, hastening after him was nurse, with, alas! her old face on, not the pretty new one. She came on quickly, and soon reached him, catching him rather roughly by the arm. Charlie gave a cry of distress, and—woke! to find himself, poor little boy, in his crib on a dull gloomy winter morning, and nurse shaking him a little, to wake him, and speaking very crossly. It was too much. Six years could not bear the terrible contrast, and little Charlie sat up in bed and burst into tears.

“Oh, it’s not true, it’s not true,” he cried, and nurse looked crosser than before.

“The child’s going out of his mind!” exclaimed she, vainly endeavouring to stop his tears. His little heart bursting with sorrow, poor Charlie got slowly out of bed, and sitting down on the floor, shaking with sobs and cold, began to try to put on his socks. But just then a tap came to the door, and a voice said, “Is that my Charlie crying, first thing on a Monday morning?” And Charlie jumped up and ran, all shaking and shivering, to his nice warm mother, who took him in her arms and carried him off just as he was, to dress him in her own room, where there was a beautiful fire; and there poor Charlie told his story. He could not help crying again when he came to the end and tried to describe his bitter disappointment. His mother did not speak, and he began to fear she was displeased; but when he looked up in her face, and saw tears in her pretty kind eyes, he knew she was not vexed with him.

“My poor dear little boy,” she said, and then she comforted him so sweetly that the tears went away. And after breakfast she talked to Charlie again about the Millennium, and explained about it a little more, to him. She said he must not be unhappy because his dream was not true, for she thought it was a beautiful dream, and there was one way in which he might make it true. Little boy though he was, there need be no delay in his welcoming the Prince of Peace into the country of his own heart, and year by year devoting himself more and more earnestly to that blessed service, till in God’s own good time he should be one of the happy dwellers in the “Golden City” above.

So that, after all, Charlie’s wonderful dream did not remain the source of sorrow and disappointment to him. And I think it was one of the things that helped him to grow up a good man, for he never forgot it. One special good result it had, I know. It roused an interest in Black Tom, whom every one had feared and hated, and no one had ever tried to love, which never rested till gradually, and by slow degrees, the poor smith became a very different being from the fierce man who had been the terror of Charlie’s childhood.