Charlie Scott / or, There's Time Enough

by Unknown

E are quite sure that you have been very glad to read of the progress which Charlie has made since we first met him on the pier a little sunburnt boy only eight years old. You have seen what good, kind friends he met with; how well he was trained; how nobly he came out when his father was ill in denying himself and going down the mine, and how he was rewarded; and you have seen, too, how he tried to do something for God in helping Brownlee and Bob White; and yet we are so sorry to have to tell you that all this time his old habit of putting off was still growing up with him, and latterly a good deal of self-righteousness had crept into his heart. Unconsciously he began to have a very high opinion of himself, and would often think with pride how different he was from many boys that he knew.

Unfortunately he seemed to have no idea how completely he was in the power of his old enemy, procrastination. It would have made our story much too long if we had told you every instance in which he gave way to it, but we think you will see that this habit of putting off was his besetting sin, the one flaw in his character. The ship was sailing pleasantly along, with decks clean swept, with colours flying, and all looking well and prosperous; but there was a leak, one little treacherous leak, which, if it remained unnoticed and unstopped, would soon bring confusion and destruction upon the ship, gay and gallant though she looked.

We may often be deceived in ourselves, and think that we are going on well, but God cannot be deceived. He sees us as we really are, not as we appear to ourselves and to others. He is training each one of us, and He saw in Charlie's case that a fiery trial was needed to burn out of him that besetting sin that had been so long indulged. Just as gold is purified by being passed through a fiery furnace, so our hearts need to be purified sometimes by great sorrows, by fiery trials; and so it was that Charlie had to suffer a most bitter, a most sad and humiliating fall.

Eleven months had passed since John Heedman first called in the doctor; he had lingered so long, but now the end was very near. He would not hear of Charlie staying away from his work, although Mr. Carlton had kindly offered to let him have a few days at home.

One evening when Charlie came in from work his mother gave him a letter. "You had better go straight to the post with it," she said, afraid that he would put off. "Your father is very anxious it should go by to-night's post. Now, Charlie, do take care," she said, anxiously.

Charlie's good opinion of himself—his pride—was touched.

"I wish, mother, you wouldn't talk to me as if you thought I didn't know what I was about," he said, in an angry tone, slamming the door after him as he went out. He had not gone far when he met Bob White, who was going with a note from the clergyman to get some books out of the library. "Come with me," said Bob, "and we'll have a look through the books."

"I've got to go to the post office," said Charlie, "but there's time enough yet; I'll go with you." He argued with himself, "What's the use of putting the letter in ever so long before post-time if it won't go a bit the quicker." He was in an irritable humour, angry to think that he should have been doubted. If he had been like Tom Brown, or Joe Denton, or any of those careless fellows, it would have been a different thing.

Arrived at the library, both the boys were soon interested in looking over the books, and the time flew rapidly. "I'll just glance at these," thought Charlie, taking out two more with very attractive titles, "and then I must be off to the post."