“Never mind,” said the farmer; “you’ve got your good points too. To-morrow is Sunday. After you have done your stable-work, you can go to church, and if you listen to our good parson, you can’t help improving.”
That night Philip knelt down in his lonely garret, and asked God to forgive his many sins, for Jesus’ sake. His face was wet with penitent tears when he rose, and God heard his prayer, and saw the tears.
Let us go back to the school. You would have thought that Johnny Goodfellow, who was left in place of Philip Badboy, wore a fairy talisman outside of his heart, which made everybody love him, so great a favorite did he become almost immediately. Yes, he wore a charm; but it was inside his heart, and it was called Love. Do you know, darling little reader, whom I love with all my heart—that in that sublime chapter in Corinthians which tells about Charity, it is Love which is meant? The word in the original is “Love;” but for good reasons, and so as not to be misunderstood—because this word “love” has not always a divine meaning—the translator chose the word “Charity.” And now, whenever you read the beautiful chapter, which I hope you do very often, and, what is more, practise its heaven-sent lessons, always think that “Charity” means the purest “Love.”
How the little fellow did study! It seemed as if he could not say his lessons wrong if he tried; and in play hours, he frolicked at such a rate with his particular friend Kriss Luff, who clung to him from the very first day, that he did not lose his bright rosy cheeks, as his good mother had feared. He wrote her a long letter once a week, sending many loving messages to his father and darling sister Essie, and not forgetting Phil. And once, when a travelling photographic gallery came up to the school, he had himself taken with his arm round his friend Kriss’s neck; and he particularly requested that Kriss should be looking at his watch at the moment, as it would seem such a grand thing, he said, for a boy to have one.
Johnny learned to construe Latin in such a surprisingly short time, that Dr. Gradus forgot one morning to be as pompous as usual, and tapping his new scholar on the back, told him he was an honor to the school, and said he was quite a “multum in parvo,” which, I am certain, meant a great compliment, for Johnny colored deeply, while an expression of delight illumined his features. It is a very majestic thing to praise people in Latin; but for my part, I wish Dr. Gradus had talked English, don’t you? If you can find out what “multum in parvo” means, just write it to me in a dear little letter, directed to the care of Mr. Sheldon.
Of course Johnny told Kriss all about his sister Essie; how pretty and good she was, and how she had to walk with crutches, because she had hurt her knee when she was a little bit of a thing, and the leg that was injured never grew any more, at which Kriss was dreadfully sorry, and sent his love to her, and a funny little picture, in an envelope, of a boy who was pulling out the nose of his sister’s india-rubber doll, and making it at least half a yard long. And Essie, in return, sent him a great gingerbread cake, which she helped to make herself, and Kriss had what he called “a public dinner” off of it, and made a fine speech, standing on top of the pump in the play-ground; after which he cut a slice of cake for every boy, all elegantly arranged on cabbage leaves for plates, upon receiving which they gave him three perfectly tremendous cheers, and in five minutes more every single crumb had disappeared.
And Johnny kept rosy and fat, although he really seemed to live on geography, the multiplication table, and the Latin grammar; but he could play too; for Kriss declared that he could run faster, jump higher, swim longer, and shout louder than any other fellow in the school, which was very remarkable, for some of the boys could run like lamplighters, jump like kangaroos, swim dog-fashion and crab-fashion, dive like stones, float like feathers, stand on their heads under water and bow, to you with their feet, and as to shouting, I only wish you could hear them once—that’s all.
All the boys agreed that Johnny made the very best back of them all at leap-frog,—so strong and square, with his hands firmly planted on his knees, and looking between his legs with his round face upside down. Then he was a capital hand at mending broken-down drums, toy-carts, horses, and all manner of playthings. The little boys in the school would bring them to him, and, first hugging him, would coax him to “make them as good as new,” until he declared that the little closet in his room was a perfect hospital, of which he was the doctor, and a jack-knife and Spalding’s glue the medicines.