CHAPTER VII.
THE TEMPTER TRIUMPHS.
"Did the lady give you nothing more?" inquired Mr. Walters, as William handed him the money for the shoes and mentioned the new order. He had been pleased with the boy's ingenuous honesty shown a day or two before, and was now in a more sunny humour than usual. The old watchman, too, had come in for a half-hour's chat, and was sitting in the back shop, from whence Mr. Walters had come. "What did she give you?" he repeated, as he saw the boy hesitate.
William blushed, stammered something inaudible, and looked at Jem Taylor, who, as master's back was turned so that he could not see him, made signs to our hero to conceal the truth. "I am sure she gave you something," cried the master, now growing angry; "tell me the truth this moment."
The poor boy now recollected that he had spent part of it, and was more embarrassed than at first; the nods, winks, and smiles of the vicious journeyman were aiding in the struggle to conquer the boy's virtue, and at last triumphed. The anger of Mr. Walters was now fully aroused. He seized his young apprentice by the shoulder, and in a voice of thunder repeated the question; to which, pale and trembling, more from the terrible conflict within than dread of the uplifted arm of his cruel master, he answered, "I did not get any money!"
Dear young reader, the first step on the downward road is the only one that costs, the rest are easy; and our poor hero, the child of Christian parents, the subject of many prayers, had listened to the voice of the charmer, and now he stood on the verge of the dangerous boundary line. Was he to fall, or would God, whom he had been taught to love and honour, shield him in his perilous situation? Ah yes; for is there not One who, loving the wretched and suffering children of the earth—One who, touched with the feeling of man's infirmities, took on himself the likeness of sinful flesh, and dwelt among them, administering mercy to all? Wherefore in all things it behoved him to be made like unto his brethren, that he might be a merciful and faithful High Priest, to make reconciliation for the sins of the people. For being in all points tempted as we are, yet without sin, he himself having suffered, he is able to succour them that are tempted.
And there were purposes of mercy in store for the orphan boy, when the chastisements with which God sees good to inflict on the children of his love should have passed away. This trial of his power to resist temptation was permitted, in order to show him that a better strength than his own was necessary, and that it is only through the divine Helper that any can be delivered from the power of the great enemy "who goeth about as a roaring lion seeking whom he may devour."
Mr. Walters at once recognised the falsehood our poor hero was tempted to tell; and although he was in the habit of beating him for almost every offence, the chastisement on this occasion exceeded any that had gone before. Severe indeed were the blows rained down on his back and shoulders; less, indeed, intended as a punishment for the falsehood, than a pouring out of his own wrathful spirit on the child, who for the first time had manifested a spirit of opposition to his will.
Poor boy, every bone in his body ached; but what was that in comparison with the anguish of soul he endured? Conscience, that sure monitor, proclaimed with its still small voice, "Thou hast sinned against God;" and he longed for the hour when he could be alone, and, like erring Peter, "weep bitterly."
It was Saturday evening, and work was left off at an earlier hour than usual. And well was it for our hero that Jem Taylor was too much bent on the pursuance of his own low pleasures to remain a moment after the signal was given to cease work. Perhaps more poison would have been instilled into the soul which had been found vulnerable; perhaps such a line of proceeding prompted as would have proved, if not ultimately successful, at least productive of much suffering; for the blessed Scriptures tell us that "transgression shall be visited with the rod, and iniquity with stripes."
He was sitting alone in a corner of the shop when the shrill voice of Mrs. Walters was heard calling him to "go to Burton's for milk." He obeyed, and wiping his streaming eyes, with an attempt to look cheerful, he entered the neat little room, where he found his friend Thomas, who had left the scene of strife unobserved.
"Sit down, Will," said he, in a kindly tone, that, going straight to the boy's heart, once more unlocked the fountain of his tears; "the old woman is taking her bread out of the oven, but she will be here in a moment."
"I dare not stay," replied the boy; "I must go home and come back rather than wait. Mrs. Walters always scolds if I stay."
"I will go with you and carry your excuse," rejoined Thomas; "but there is one thing about which I have long wanted to ask you. I never see you dressed clean on Sunday, or going to church. Have you never been accustomed to hear the word of God preached on the Sabbath, or attended a Sunday school? It is no wonder that falsehood dwells in the hearts of those who do not honour the ordinances of God; or that lies are spoken by such as do not know that 'He who is the Truth abhors the lying lips.'"
The tears of the orphan boy now flowed freely, and a deep blush mounted to his temples. "O Mr. Burton," he sobbed, "how gladly would I go to church and Sabbath school, as I did when my parents were living; but I fear I am growing wicked, for at times I have bad feelings, and to-day I told"—he could not bring himself to say a lie—"what was not true."
"I know you did," said Thomas; "I was in the back shop and saw you punished. God grant you may never need another chastisement for the same cause. But here is the old woman, and although I would like to talk to you a little, I must not suffer you to do wrong by staying a moment longer than necessary. How would you like to go to church with me to-morrow afternoon?"
"If I only could," replied William, "I would be glad; but I have a great deal to do on Sunday, and I am afraid Mrs. Walters will not like to spare me."
"I will ask her, and I am sure I shall not be refused," said Thomas; "but here is your milk—come, I am going with you."
Mrs. Walters, either being in a better humour than usual, or wishing to appear amiable to her respectable neighbour, not only took no notice of William's rather long stay, but consented he should spend Sunday evening with the watchman.
Great lightness of heart would have been his in consequence of this consent, had not his spirit been weighed down with the burden of his sin. He felt how blunt are all the arrows of adversity in comparison with those of guilt; and how insignificant are all the trials imposed by cruel men, contrasted with the pain of soul caused by the sense of having displeased God.
Twilight came on, and with it he sought the quiet of his comfortless attic. Its rude walls and squalid furniture were, however, not now noticed; its privacy and seclusion were all that his soul desired. He threw himself on the pallet which served him for a bed, and wept bitterly as he thought of his parents, who had taken so much pains to teach him to abhor a lie, and recalled the words of his mother, who constantly admonished him how much better it was to suffer wrongfully than do wrong; and bitter was his self-reproach, that for the sake of a paltry sixpence he had told a lie, and in doing so sinned against the God of truth, whose word declares that "lying lips are an abomination to the Lord."
Oh, how guilty he felt! how humbled in his own estimation! and with deep and bitter repentance he bewailed his error, and entreated pardon from Him who for Christ's sake will always hear the penitent when they pray, and help them in their time of trial. "My heavenly Father," was the language of his anguished heart, "I have sinned, and am most unhappy; save me from temptation, or give me strength to resist when it comes."
It was long before the violence of his grief passed away, and when it did, feeling no inclination to sleep, he went to his trunk for his Bible, which latterly he had somewhat neglected. As he turned over the articles which lay within it, most of which he had brought from home, and which served most vividly to recall the happiness of his earlier years, his eyes rested upon the portfolio of his father's drawings, which lay on the bottom, and on which he had not lately looked. As he opened it a folded paper fell from between the leaves. He took it up and opened it—it was the little drawing which he had made in the church-yard; and as he gazed on it he recollected the stranger who had coloured it, and with remembrance of him came that also of his spiritual conversation. He read the words written on the back: "Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation;" "Watch that you may pray, and pray that you may be safe;" and the tide of tears once more burst forth.
"I was not watchful," he said; "I did not pray as I ought; but I will try never to forget my duty again."
His tears could not soon be restrained; but as he read such passages from his Bible as his mother had taught him to understand, tranquillity gradually stole over his heart, and although he still wept, his tears were not so bitter as at first. Oh, blessed religion of Christ! that can bring a balm for every human grief; that tells the weary and heavy laden where to go for rest and solace; that tells the desolate of a home and inheritance in a land where there is no sorrow; and bids the sin-sick not despair, for there is mercy in Christ for all, and God hath no pleasure in the death of the sinner, but would rather that the wicked turn from the evil of his way and live: it tells of a love which does not willingly afflict, but when, in mysterious but unquestionable mercy, it lays the cross upon our shoulder, it also gives the support of its divine strength, "making the rough places plain to our feet, and the darkness to be light about our path." He who bore a cross, "the heaviest cross," can also lighten the burden of all our trials; and although he may not see good to remove them, he can remove their oppressive weight by the bestowment of the spirit of patience, which teaches implicit obedience to our heavenly Father's will. And now, as the refreshing dew falls silently and unseen upon the sun-scorched earth, and all nature revives to renovated life, so did the gentle but powerful influence of the gospel precepts shed peace and hope upon the heart of this desolate boy. Trusting in the orphan's God, who has declared "he will never leave nor forsake those who call upon him," he grew calm as he recalled the abundant promises of God, and, comforted by the holy assurance they afforded, his agitation subsided into calmness, and at last he sunk into a calm and quiet sleep.
The Sabbath morning rose bright and beautiful, and the sacred silence, evident even in the crowded city—for the usual sounds of labour and of sport are hushed—was soothing to the sin-wounded spirit of the poor orphan boy. His first thought on awaking was the remembrance of his sin; his first work, to ask forgiveness and seek strength for present duty and future trial; and in the stillness of heavenly communion he found the peace promised to all who trust in the Lord. Pale and serious, but with a happiness to which he had long been a stranger, the influence of the Holy Spirit was operating upon his heart. He felt that he had been in danger of straying from the fold of the Good Shepherd, and that he had in mercy been saved by the trial which showed him that he dared not trust to his own strength. Nothing occurred to mar the quiet of the day. Mr. Walters was quiet, though somewhat moody; his wife did not scold as usual; and when, in the afternoon, Thomas Burton came in for our poor hero, there was no objection made to his going, but permission given for him to stay with the Burtons until bed-time.
Walters could not well refuse Thomas any favour. Not only was he obliged to respect this humble Christian for his consistent walk, but he owed him a large debt of gratitude; for when he and his family all lay ill at one time of an epidemic fever, the Burtons, when no one else would go near the house, waited on them day and night. He was a little mortified that the good watchman had been witness of his violent behaviour on the day before,—he feared some expostulation on the part of his worthy neighbour; but Thomas wisely forbore to say anything at present in the boy's behalf, thinking he could serve him better by silent observation, and not interfering until a suitable time.
Very pleasantly did this Sabbath-day pass with William. How he enjoyed the service in the plain church where the Burtons worshipped! It reminded him of home days, and in the softened mood of his heart every word uttered by the preacher told. The beautiful words of the text, which the Saviour spoke to his disciples, "Let not your heart be troubled; ye believe in God, believe also in me;" and its following words, in which the Comforter is promised,—came like healing balm upon his wounded spirit, and he bowed his soul in humble gratitude to the great Head of the Church, who, in suffering him once more to enjoy the privileges of the sanctuary, had also satisfied him with spiritual food.
The evening passed pleasantly away, although the conversation, turning on the events of the preceding day, brought a blush to William's pale cheeks and tears to his eyes. The old watchman, although rude and uneducated, was yet a true Christian, and as such, admonished the desolate child with all the tenderness of a father. When our hero told him how he had been tempted to run away on the day the shoes fell into the gutter, and how harshly he had been treated, not only on that occasion, but always; and how hard it was for him to observe the rule of duty, which he well knew, when Jem Taylor, the only one who ever showed him any kindness, was always advising him to pursue a course to which the human heart is naturally inclined, but which his conscience told him was wrong.
"That is all very true," said Thomas; "but you must remember that all set out on a race for one stopping-place, to which there are two roads. You have read in your Bible about the wide and the strait gate. 'Enter in,' it says, 'at the strait gate; for wide is the gate and broad is the way that leadeth unto destruction, and many there be that go in thereat. Because strait is the gate and narrow is the way that leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it.' Now, my boy, God has taken away your earthly joys, and made the way narrow to you; hedged your path with thorns, and caused you to weep bitter tears every day. We know, too, that no affliction for the present is joyous, but grievous: and as our light afflictions, which, in comparison with eternity, endure but for a moment, work out for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory; so God has filled your way with trials, difficulties, and thorns, that, taught so early in life to deny self and fight against sin, you, as you progress, will find the narrow path grow easy and pleasant, and find at the end everlasting life. Now, the temptations of Jem Taylor are easily resisted, if you will read your Bible prayerfully. 'Thy word is a light unto my feet and a lamp unto my path.' 'Through thy commandments I get understanding,' says David; 'therefore I hate every evil way.' And if, when tempted, you strive mightily, and call for help on Him who hath promised to aid in the hour of trial, he will bear you through the whole conflict safely, and at last give you a crown of life."
William drank in the old man's words, and could have listened longer, but it was growing late. The good watchman must be at his post; and even while speaking he was putting on his overcoat, and, taking up his lantern, was soon prepared to traverse his nightly round.
Having promised he would return William safely, he proposed that they should leave together; but not before Mrs. Burton had wrapped up half a dozen nice rolls, which she gave him; and William, looking up in the old man's face, said, "You will not forsake me?"
"No, boy, no, that I won't," was his reply; "but try to do all that conscience tells you is your duty, and then you will have a better Friend, worth more than a whole host of mortal men."