Jonathan's teaching was all given by parable and allegory, and Robin was only one of the many who benefited by it. The children of his beloved master shared in its happy influence as they played beside him or worked in their garden plots. Every opportunity was turned into a golden one, and much seed sown that for the time seemed trampled down, but which was destined hereafter to spring up and have its blossoming and fruitage in hearts that would bless the friend who had sown and watered with such loving careful patience.
The good man connected everything around him in some way with God's truth; and this it was that made his lessons so real and living. The children of Oaklands could never read about the wearied Saviour and the woman of Samaria without recalling the moss-grown well in the corner of the garden, with its rusty chain and buckets, where Jonathan had told that sweet story of old as he filled his water-cans.
The water of life, that in its freshness slakes all thirst for ever, had its earthly illustration in the dark depths of their own spring-fed well, and it was a life-long association.
But my readers will like to hear how it happened that Robin was able to be with his kind friend and teacher so constantly. After that sunny day of primrose gathering in the wood, the master of Oaklands had a long conversation with Jonathan about Robin.
The under gardener had been suddenly dismissed the previous week, and as the place was now vacant, there was an opportunity for saying a good word for the widow's son.
"I would like to find someone trustworthy, who would grow up under my eye and take my place when I am gone," the old man had said. "I am not so young as I once was, and the rheumatics, especially in winter, tell me the old tree must come down some day. But as in the forest I never mark a tree for felling without first planting a sapling beside it, so I would now like to find one of a good stock who will grow up faithful to your service, sir, when these hands can no longer work for you and yours."
Jonathan's advice was taken, and Robin duly installed in his new post. What a big man he felt the first time he put his week's wages into his mother's hand! He was to be the bread-winner of the family now, and mother could afford to pay a smaller boy to fetch and carry the clothes from the various houses. At church the following Sunday, who felt happier or more elated than Robin, dressed in the new suit given him by his master? Ah! how many good things grew out of Corrie's happy Christmas! It had certainly turned a bright page in the history of Robin's life.
Jonathan's words awakened many new thoughts in the boy's heart as day by day he listened to them in the garden at Oaklands. But Robin's youthful inexperience made some of the things uttered by his wise teacher hard to be understood, and roused doubts and questions which had not existed before.
One day he had been hearing much about the inborn corruption of the human heart, described in Scripture as "deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked." Robin remembered more than once having paused on the threshold of the lodge on hearing the prayer of faith being poured forth within; and he thought it strange that such agonising pleadings against sin should have such a prominent place in his friend's petition.
Jonathan seemed perfect in the boy's eyes; good, kind, generous, and a never-failing friend. There might be wicked people in the world; but it would be easy to keep separate from them. Could not Robin look with complacent satisfaction on his own life? Was he not a good son and loving brother, taking home his earnings on Saturday night with a punctuality that never failed? The public-house, with its crowd of idlers going in and out, had no attraction for him, thanks to the earnest and careful training of his good mother. He knew that not a more sober industrious lad could be found in the whole parish than he was.