V.
THE VASE AND THE DART.
“Not at school again, Harry?” said the teacher, Willy Thorn, as he seated himself in the little parlour of Widow Brown, and regarded with a kind but almost sad countenance the flushed face of her grandson. “You have not been with us for a month, Harry, and I fear that you never go to church. I had hoped better things of you, my boy.”
“It’s all from the bad company that he gets into,” said the widow, taking off her spectacles and wiping the glasses. “He is a good lad at heart, sir; but you see as how he has no firmness—he can’t say No. Harry intends to do well one hour, and forgets all about it the next; but I’ll be bound you’ll see him at school and at church too, some day or other.”
“He knows not how long he may have the opportunity of doing either. Remember, Harry, the fate of your young companion, Sam Porter, hurried in one instant into eternity—not one moment given him to repent, to call on his Saviour!—all his opportunities past for ever!”
Harry sighed and looked down.