"My father retired to his little room with an almost breaking heart. I have often heard him say that this was the bitterest moment of his life. To lose his place was misfortune enough; but his character—that which was dearer than life! He could scarcely restrain his burning tears! But he laid his troubles before his God; he remembered that the Almighty afflicts not in vain, that the Lord would yet make his innocence clear before all, if not in this world, yet in the kingdom which is to come."
"As he was rising from his knees, Sands entered the room, having heard of the misfortune of his companion. Sands was a kind-hearted fellow, and really liked my father, and tried in his rough way to comfort him.
"'I am heartily sorry that you are going,' he said, in conclusion; 'I assure you, Viner, that I would do anything for you.'"
"'Then you will not refuse this little remembrance from a friend,' said my father, placing in his hand one of the books in gold and blue, from which he had just himself been drawing counsel and comfort. 'For my sake, you will read this little work through, and God bless you, Sands, and reward you for the kindness which you have shown to a friend in disgrace!'"
"And did Sands read it?" inquired Walter.
"I believe that he did. I remember seeing him as a gray-headed old man, and he then showed me his little copy in gold and blue, looking very much the worse for wear; and he told me that he thought that if there were any good in him, he owed it to the example and advice of my father."
"And was your father obliged to leave his situation?"
"Some delay occurred in supplying his place; he was, therefore, allowed to remain about ten days longer. He felt very sad and low on the Sunday evening on which he was to pay his last visit to his little school, for as he had as yet been unable to get another situation in London, he intended to return to his mother."
"He found his young pupils ready for him as usual; but a cloud of sorrow was over them, for they know that they were to welcome their kind teacher no more. My father tried to improve to them even the occasion of their mutual distress; he spoke to them of the place where there is no more parting, of the unending joys prepared for God's servants when His kingdom of glory shall come. He concluded by placing before the children his last remaining copy of the book in gold and blue, and offering it as a prize to the most industrious pupil, on condition of his reading it aloud to his companions."
"'Oh! That is just like the book which makes my mother sad!' cried a little barefooted boy from a corner of the room."