“My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not.”—Prov. i. 10.
Little Joseph Ashton was idling about the streets of London on a Sunday afternoon. He had been to church in the morning, and had behaved there like a quiet, attentive child: he had brought home the text to his grandmother, and had also learned two other verses from the Bible. Joseph was not without some feeling of religion: in church he often appeared very devout, especially when he heard the sweet music of the hymn. His grandmother found him obedient and loving, and fondly hoped that her dear son might grow up a true servant of the Lord. But, alas! poor Joseph’s goodness was often as the morning dew, it could not stand the hot sun of temptation. Like that strange creature called the chameleon, which is said to change its colour according to the objects that are near it, Joseph changed his conduct according to his companions: he had learned many good things both at home and at school, but he had not yet learned to say No!
LITTLE JOSEPH.
Little Joseph now stood at the side of the New Road, looking carelessly at the crowds passing before him, watching the tired omnibus horses dragging their heavy loads—alas! that mercy, if not religion, should not give them their one day’s rest! There were hawkers, and sellers of sweetmeats behind their tempting stalls, little thinking, poor and often ignorant as they are, that they are doing the work of the Evil One, by leading others to sin! What shall it profit a man, if he gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul? What will these poor sinners think of their miserable profits, the heaps of pence collected on the Sabbath, when they stand before the Judge of quick and dead! Oh, for a voice to warn them in time, to persuade them that He in whose hands are all things would abundantly make up to them, here and hereafter, for all that they might give up for His sake; that better, far better, is poverty than sin; that it is a happy thing to trust in the mercy of God, who knows and pities their wants; and that the blessing of the Lord it maketh rich, and He addeth no sorrow thereto.
I fear that these were not the thoughts of little Joseph, whose mind was just in that vacant state which tempts evil to enter. As he stood with both his hands in his pockets, leaning against an iron lamp-post, two school-fellows of his, Jack and Thomas Higgins, came up to him from behind.
“I say, Joseph,” cried Jack, slapping him on the shoulder, “have you any coppers about you?”
“Why, yes; what makes you ask me?”
“I’ve a mind to some of that pink rock on yon stall—it’s the nicest thing in the world. I shared my gingerbread with you yesterday, so it’s only fair that you stand treat to-day.”