A. L. O. E.'s picture story book.

by A. L. O. E.

Betty Wiggins might have given a kind word to the lonely child, if she had given no more. Ben Madden had lately lost his mother, a poor industrious widow, who had worked as long as her fingers could work to support herself and her orphan boy. Alice Madden had died in peace and faith, commending her child to the care of Him who hath said, "I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee."

Poor Ben seemed to have a hard life struggle before him. He had no relative living but a sailor uncle, who might, for aught that he knew, be now on the other side of the world. There was none to care whether the orphan slept under a roof or an archway, whether he fed or whether he starved. Betty, who had known his mother for years, might have spared him one of those biscuits, and never have missed it amongst so many; so thought Ben, who, since rising at daybreak, had not tasted a morsel of food.

As Ben stood leaning against an area railing, looking wistfully at the piles of cakes and gingerbread nuts, a light cart, in which was seated a reckless young driver urging on an excited horse, was whisked round the corner of High Street with such careless speed, that it knocked over the stall and threw its contents on the pavement. What a scatter was there of tartlets and cakes, bits of toffee and rock, biscuits, bull's eyes, almonds and buns, and sticks of bright barley sugar! Had the stall-woman been any other than cross Betty Wiggins, Ben would have run forward to help her to pick up her goods, which were rolling about in every direction. But a feeling of resentment filled the soul of the boy; he was not sorry for Betty's disaster.

"She bade me keep off," thought the child, "and I will; she would not trust me to pick up her biscuits."

Ben would not go to the cakes, but one of the cakes came to him. A beautiful pink one, studded with almonds, and frosted with sugar, rolled close up to his feet. Betty did not mark this, for with clenched hand and flashing eyes she was pouring a torrent of abuse after the careless driver whose cart had done the mischief, which the youth would not stop to repair. Ben saw the cake—the delicious pink cake—what a temptation to a half famished boy! Forgetful of his own words so lately uttered, in a moment the child caught it up, and hurried away down the street; leaving Betty to abuse the driver, set up the stall, and recover such of her dainties as had not been smashed on the pavement.

Before Ben had walked many steps, he had eagerly swallowed the cake; having once tasted its sweetness, he felt as if nothing could stop him from eating the whole. Ben had committed his first theft, he had forgotten the words of his mother, he had broken the law of his God. Let none of my readers deem his fault a small one, or think that little harm could come from a hungry boy's eating a single cake that had rolled to his feet. Ben's enjoyment was quickly over; what had pleased his taste had but whetted his hunger, and it seemed as if with that stolen morsel evil had entered into the boy.

Every time that we yield to temptation, we have less power to resist it in future. Many sinful thoughts came into the mind of Ben as he lounged through the streets. Never before had he so envied the rich, those who could feast every day upon dainties. With a careless eye, he gazed into shops filled with good things which he could not buy. With a repining, discontented spirit, he thought of his own hard lot. Why had his mother been taken from him? Why had he been left to sorrow and want?

Then, in this dangerous state of mind, Ben began to consider how he could find means of supplying his need. He did not think now of prayer; he did not think of asking his heavenly Father to open some course before him by which he might honestly earn his bread. Ben remembered how that sharp lad, Dennis O'Wiley, had told him that he knew ways and means by which a lad could push himself on in the world. When Ben had repeated these words to his mother, she had warned him against Dennis O'Wiley; she had said that he feared neither God nor man, and would end his days in a prison. Ben had resolved, in obedience to his parent, never to keep company with the lad; but, since stealing that pink sugared cake, Ben found his resolution beginning to waver. He could see no great harm in Dennis, as good-natured a fellow as ever was born; why should he not ask a bit of advice from a chap who seemed always to find out some way of getting whatever he wanted?

Alas, poor Ben! He had been like one standing at a spot where two roads branch off: the strait one leading to life, the broad one leading to destruction—his first theft was like his first step in the fatal downward road. But for a little incident which I am going to relate, the widow's son might have gone from evil to evil, from sinful thoughts to wicked deeds, till his heart had grown hard, and his conscience dead, and he had led a life of guilt and of shame, to close in misery and ruin.

As Ben was sauntering down a street, half resolved to seek Dennis O'Wiley, his ear caught the sound of music. It came from an open door, leading into an infant school. Ben, who dearly loved music, drew near and listened to the childish voices singing a well-known hymn. Very heavy grew the heart of the boy, and his eyes were dimmed with tears, for he heard the familiar words—