“I am afraid it will storm to-night,” continued the missionary, pointing to a dark cloud which was looming up in the west.
“You might have stayed at home and minded your own business, instead of minding other people’s, and kept out of this trouble,” replied Mr. Steele, with a look so severe that the poor wanderer lost all hope of any comfort or favor from this seemingly inhospitable dwelling; so he inquired how far it was to the next house.
“That depends entirely upon which way you go,” mockingly answered the hard-hearted man, with a wink to Mr. Kerr, and a conceited smile at the unfeeling wit he had displayed.
“I expect to continue my labors westward,” gently added the missionary.
His soul was grieved at the hardness of this man’s heart, and for a moment he felt like looking upon his persecutor with anger. But he remembered that even his Lord and Master was mocked and derided; that “when He was reviled, He reviled not again; but as a lamb before his shearers is dumb, so He opened not his mouth.” And the humble follower of the Man of Sorrows in silence offered up the prayer, “Father, forgive them, they know not what they do.”
The door of common humanity being closed against him, he made up his mind to continue his journey, let the dangers and privations be what they might. An angel seemed to whisper, “I will lead thee in the way in which thou shalt go;” so he took courage.
Being thirsty, he ventured to ask for a drink of water.
“You can go to the spring,” was the abrupt answer, and the cruel man turned upon his heel, and in company with Mr. Kerr passed on to the barn, leaving the suffering one standing by the gate alone.
But George, a lad of about ten years, and Mary, a little flower of seven summers, had looked on and listened with the curiosity common to children. Their hearts were filled with pity toward the poor man; and, when even a drink of water was denied him, the inherent kindness, implanted in all our natures, was instantly awakened.
In a moment, as the missionary turned the corner of the yard, the two children met him each with “a cup of cold water.” “Here is good fresh water, please drink,” said the little ones. His heart was melted at this unexpected exhibition of kindness; and invoking a blessing upon the dear children, he raised the cup to his lips and was refreshed. He then opened his satchel, and gave each child a picture card and Sunday-school paper, also cards for the men, together with a neat little tract for their mother. Bidding them good-by, he with a sigh resumed his lonely journey.