"Oh, that will be joyful
When we meet to part no more!"
Ben's lips quivered as he murmured to himself, "That is the hymn my mother taught me."
What seeming trifles will sometimes change the whole current of our thoughts! The sound of that music brought vividly before the mind of poor Ben his mother's face as she lay on her sick-bed: the touch of her hand, her fond look of love, her dying words of advice to her son. It was as if she had come back to earth to stop her poor boy on his downward way. His thoughts were recalled to God and heaven, to that bright home to which he felt that his mother had gone, and where he hoped one day to join her—the blessed mansions prepared by the Saviour for those who love and obey Him.
"Holy children will be there
Who have sought the Lord by prayer."
Ben turned away with almost a bursting heart. Heaven is not for the unholy, the disobedient, the covetous, for those who take what is not their own! If he went on in the fatal course on which he had entered that day, he would never again meet his mother, he would never be "joyful" in heaven! Was it too late to turn back? Might he not ask God's forgiveness, and pray for grace to lead a new life?
"Yes," thought the penitent child, "I will never forget my mother's wishes, I will follow my mother's ways! With the very first money that I get, I will pay for the cake that I stole."
The strength of Ben's resolution was very soon put to the test. Scarcely had he made this silent promise, when a carriage with a lady inside it was driven up to the school, and as there was no footman with it, and the coachman could not leave the box, Ben ran forward to open the door, and guard the lady's dress from the wheel. The lady smiled kindly on the child, and taking a penny from her bag, dropped it into his hand.
Here was a penny honestly earned; a penny that would buy two stale rolls to satisfy the hunger of Ben. Could it be wrong thus to spend it! Had he received it one hour before, Ben would have run to a baker's shop, and laid out the money in bread; but conscience now whispered to Ben that he had a debt to discharge, that that penny by right was Betty's, and that his first duty was to pay for the cake which he had wrongfully taken.
"But I'm so hungry!" thought Ben, as he looked on the copper in his hand. "I will buy what I need with this penny, and pay my debt with the next. But yet—" Thus went on the struggle between self-will and conscience—"my mother taught me that to put off doing what is right, is actually doing what is wrong. Often have I heard her say, 'When conscience points out a difficult duty, don't wait in hopes that it will grow easy.'"
Ben turned in the direction of High Street, but before two steps on his way, pride offered another temptation. "I can't bear to go up to Betty," thought Ben, "and tell her that I stole her cake!" He stopped short, as the thought crossed his mind. "But can't I walk by her stall, and just drop the penny on it as I pass, and say nothing to bring myself shame!"