"Yes, beautiful white writing paper."
This was a new idea, and stopping his work Rob sat down and looked at Jasper. "Tell me how," he said.
"Ah, that's more than I can do, Rob; only I know I sell them to a man down in High Street, and he sends them to a paper-mill, and they do all the work there. But it doesn't look as if they could come to much, does it now?"
"Would you like to know how they do it?" And a voice from the entry of the shed startled the two rag-pickers, as Forbes the policeman made his way in. "I've been watching you two," he said with a smile, "and listening to you; but you were both so busy you didn't see me."
Jasper laughed. "Rob's doing the work, and I'm doing the looking on part; but sit down, Forbes, if you can find a seat."
"I can't stay now, Jasper—my wife will have my dinner ready; but when I heard you both wondering how those dirty old rags could ever be made into clean white paper, I thought I'd step in a minute, for my father was foreman at a paper-mill, and many's the time I've gone all over the place with him, and seen how 'twas done. Just such stuff as you've got there in that heap of Rob's they take it, and break it into little tiny bits, and put it into some strong stuff—caustic, or acid, or something—and they get all the dirt out, and boil, and boil, and boil it until it's quite soft and white, and you'd never know it had been so dirty. I can't tell you all about it now, but it always sets me thinking of what the Lord will do with a sinner. Filthy as we are, He can just take us and wash away all our filth, and soften our hard hearts, and make something altogether new out of us. 'Tis very wonderful, and I don't know that we can quite understand how He does it; but you see, like the rags in the mill, the master undertakes to do it all, and he knows how and he does it, and so the Lord will undertake to wash the blackest sinner white; and He'll do it too, if we'll only let Him; and when the Lord takes a man in hand it's astonishing what He can make of him, no matter how worthless he seems to be. Like your text says that you learnt at Sunday School yesterday, Rob; can you mind it now?" And the tall policeman looked down at the little lad crouched at his feet.
Rob thought for a moment, and then clapping his hands said, "I've got it. I can say it. 'Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.'"
"There now, that's just it, isn't it? Good-bye, and may we all be washed in the precious blood of Jesus!" And away walked the worthy man, with an earnest prayer in his heart that Jasper might know the cleansing power of the Saviour's blood.
Of course he had known the old man for years, but Rob's prattle about him had awakened a special interest in his heart, and often, if "on duty" in the neighbourhood, he would drop in and try to say a word or two for his Master, that might go home to Jasper's conscience. And indeed he had done so to-day; and for a long time Jasper sat, gazing at the rags, that brought such a lesson to his heart. Filthy? so was he; apparently worthless? so was he; unable to get rid of the filth? so was he. But what the rags couldn't do, and what he couldn't do, another could.
"What was that you said, Rob?"