"Oh, how dreadfully strict!" I fancy I hear some of my readers say. Not at all, dears, it was a mother's kindness to her children; for it took far more time, and a great deal more trouble to teach them all these things than it would have done to let them do as they liked. And when Emily and Mollie and Jack and Charlie and all the others grew up to be men and women, they thanked God for giving them such a wise mother.
Once a week Mrs. Wesley used to take each of the children into her room, separately, for a quiet little talk. They each had their own day for having mother all to themselves. Jack had every Thursday, and Saturday was Charlie's day. So helpful were these little talks with mother, that years afterwards when Jack had left home, he wrote and asked his mother if she would spare the same time every Thursday to pray for him.
Before Jacky was eight years old he loved Jesus so much that he wanted every one to know he meant to be one of His faithful soldiers. So he asked his father if he might go to the communion, which, you know, is doing what Christ asked all His followers to do, taking bread and drinking wine "in remembrance of Him." Though Jack was such a little boy, his father knew, by his conduct, that he meant what he said, and so he admitted him to the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper. I wish all my young readers could say, as Jacky could:—
"I am a little soldier,
I'm only eight years old,
I mean to fight for Jesus
And wear a crown of gold.
I know He'll make me happy,
And help me every day,
I'll be His little soldier,
The Bible says I may."
Mrs. Wesley used to have services in her big kitchen on a Sunday night, for the servants, and the poor people who could not walk all the long way to church; and little Jack used to sit and listen so attentively, while his mother told the people how God's Son was put to death on the cruel cross, to save them from sin, and to gain for them a place in heaven.
Jack, like many another little boy, had rather a long tongue, indeed, he was a regular chatterbox. His big brother Sam did not always like Jack putting his word in, and giving his opinion; he would put him down and say: "Child, don't talk so much, when you're older you'll find that nothing much is done in the world by arguing." His father used to stand up for Jack, and would say: "There's one thing, our Jack will never do anything without giving a good reason for doing it, I know."
You will be sorry to hear that Jacky had a dreadful illness when he was nine years old. It was a disease that causes a great deal of pain and suffering. But Jack remembered that a soldier must be brave, and, as Christ's little soldier, he must be the bravest of the brave. So Jacky was very patient, and gave his nurse as little trouble as he could. His mother wrote to Mr. Wesley, who was in London at the time, and said, "Jack has borne his illness bravely, like a man, and like a little Christian, he has never uttered a word of complaint;" and the father, as he folded the letter and put it into his pocket, felt proud of his little son.
