No one guessed the trouble to which the narrators had gone to prepare these stories, nor the numbers of dreadful boys’ books through which they had waded in order to get some idea of the style which would be acceptable. Some hair-breadth escapes there were, and a few things to laugh at, especially in Margaret’s, which she told so effectively that her audience was spell-bound. It was the story of a poor boy, dreadfully tried and tempted, who, by his self-control, and because, though he sometimes did the wrong, he loved the right, made his way in the world, and won the gratitude and respect of all who knew him. It was a good story, well told, and the boys applauded it vigorously.
“That is a story of up, up, up,” said one.
“It is,” replied Tom. “That is a clever title for it, and mine is a story of down, down, down!”
“Of course, the fellow was a religious cove.”
“Certainly; he would not have done as he did if he had not had Some One to help him.”
“Ah, but we ain’t religious—not much!”
“No? Ah! that accounts for some things,” said Tom, glancing at the rags and the dirt and the unkempt hair of the speaker—a glance so eloquent that every one understood it.
“Now let’s have yourn, miss; my engagements is a-pressing me like anythink.”
Tom was not herself prepared for the effect upon the boys which her recital had, and Margaret listened in amazement. She made the boy in the story live before her listeners, so that they seemed to know him, and were entirely in sympathy with him. They knew all about his uncomfortable home, and his tobacco money, and his bets. He was a nice fellow, too, and good-natured to his “pals” at first; but just because he was selfish and weak, and could not say No at the right time, and because he never called upon God except to blaspheme Him, and because he wouldn’t be a teetotaller, and was so altogether mistaken in his ideas about manliness and honour, his end was full of misery. Tom’s eyes filled with tears, and her voice trembled as she described the downward progress of this boy and his death; and when she finished with a little prayer, “O Lord! for Jesus Christ’s sake, save these boys from all that!” she could not repress a sob, which awoke an answer in the hearts of almost all the boys.
The boys were subdued as they went away, and two or three, at least, resolved to make their lives from that night a story of “Up, up, up.” Most of them came on the next appointed evening, and brought others with them. Of course, all meetings were not successes; nor did the boys invariably continue to be interested. All workers have some disappointments, and Margaret and Tom had many. The habits already formed by the boys were not suddenly broken, nor was the evil in them readily subdued. But the effort was yet a remarkably prosperous one; and, though small in its beginning, it was the commencement of a very great thing indeed. It was not quite at first evangelistic, in the usual sense of the word, but it soon became so in the largest and fullest sense. Our friends would not easily forget the first devotional ten minutes they spent with the boys, nor did they.