It had always been a habit since we had been with Miss Grimshaw to repeat as much of the sermon as we could to grandma, as we called Miss Grimshaw’s mother. This morning the sermon was easy to remember; and when we finished the poor woman took off her spectacles, and wiped the tears from her wrinkled face. She was one of God’s chosen ones; but her life had been darkened with much sorrow. Of eight children, she had buried all but one. Still was she uniformly cheerful and happy. A simple untaught woman, her understanding had been developed by the reading of His word, and his precious promises were familiar utterances in her humble home.
Monday morning I rose early; the dew-drops sparkling on the grass, and the birds filling the trees with music. Jennie walked through the village and beyond the mill with me. Stopping to say good-by, we heard a noise of distress, and a fluttering of wings in a thicket near the roadside.
Jennie was attracted at once, her loving heart responsive to the agony of the fluttering birds. On careful inspection, we found two little birdlings on the ground. They had fallen out of their nest, and though able to hop a little, could not fly.
“Come, brother, put them back again,” and she held the little panting things, while I parted the leaves and found the nest, standing on tiptoe to put them in, and then retreating a little distance to see what the old ones would do.
“Fallen out of their nest, just like us, brother; but God will take care of us. He has, and he will;” and she flung her arms round my neck and kissed me good-by, and I ran on as fast as I could.
“Like birds fallen out of our nest.” I thought of it till I reached Mr. Wyman’s. I had lost a little time, for Jennie could not walk as fast as I could. Breakfast was nearly over; but Mr. Wyman was not cross, and Mrs. Wyman gave me a cup of coffee, and a plate filled with what she had set away for me, and for which my early walk had given me a keen relish.
The haying was over; but there was grain to cut, and I took my sickle for the first time. All day my heart was light and cheerful; I felt the influence of the Sabbath rest, and I seemed continually to hear Mr. Harlan’s text, “The entrance of thy word giveth light; it giveth understanding to the simple.” I resolved that I would study my Bible; it should be to me a daily friend and companion. Mr. Kirby’s words too went ringing through my brain: “Do what you do well, and God will open a path where He sees that you can do something better.” Then Jennie and the birds came up again; and thus with a continued succession of pleasant thoughts, the day went happily away.
Mr. Wyman was kind, and more jovial than usual; and after the evening meal, when I had filled the buckets with water, and helped Mrs. Wyman in the dairy, I drew up my chair to the table and commenced reading the weekly paper. Presently Mr. Wyman left his seat on the porch, knocked the ashes from his pipe, laid it on the mantel, and said,
“Wife, have you told Marston what Mr. Farnham said?”
“I have not had time; you had best tell him, papa.”