Light for Little Ones

“O Aleck,” and Frankie put his arms about his neck, “you mean you’re going to die, and you mustn’t. You’d have to be put way down in the ground.”

“Only my body, Frankie. My soul would be wi’ God and my mither. And oh! it is sic a bonny place, and Sunday a’ the time. Then I wi’ be free frae pain.”

“Can everybody go there, Aleck? Am I going too, and mamma, and my papa that’s way off in California?”

“Everybody who loves Jesus. If you love him he wi’ take you right there when you die. Why dinna you love him, Frankie?”

“I do want to,” was the earnest answer, “but I don’t know how. I don’t believe I love him, or I wouldn’t be so naughty.”

“The minister at the kirk wi’ tell you a’ about it, an’ your Bible an’ your mither, an’ if you pray, God wi’ help you.”

“I will try, Aleck. I’ll ask mamma about it, and I’ll listen to everything Mr. Price says, and I’ll pray too.”

Frankie was very much in earnest, and, after he was dressed, he knelt by the bedside and prayed that God would help him to be good and to love Jesus. On the way to church he talked with his mother, and she tried to lead him to the Good Shepherd. Mr. Price’s sermon was written for the lambs of the flock, and was full of encouragement to the little ones to “come to Jesus.” Frankie listened with earnest attention to that “sweet story of old, when Jesus was here among men;” his eyes filled with tears, and his heart throbbed at the story of the cruel death on the cross; and when, in conclusion, Mr. Price spoke of the tender love that the Saviour had for little children, and entreated them to give their hearts to him and love him in return, he whispered softly, “I will try to love Jesus.”

Frankie was not the only one of the children whose heart had been touched, as the next hour spent in the Sabbath School testified. The teachers sought to deepen the impression, and the Holy Spirit so wrought upon their young hearts that many went home rejoicing in a Saviour’s love.

That Sabbath was a happy day in Frankie’s home. Mrs. Western’s heart was full of a mother’s joy over her child, and Aleck shared in her happiness; as for Frankie, although he could comprehend but little, he knew that Jesus loved him, had died for him, and that he wanted the love and service of just such little children. He was but a child, and would often err, but the hand in which his was clasped was the same strong hand which upholds the best and wisest of us all.

CHAPTER VI

THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL

In the spring, Frankie commenced going to school. Miss Campbell, his Sabbath School teacher, received a dozen little boys and girls at her own house. They were all nearly of an age and old playmates, so a merry little company they made—full of fun and mischief; but never had school a gentler, lovelier mistress than Miss Campbell, or Miss Ruth, as she wished the children to call her.

The first day of school was as delightful as April sunshine could make it, and Frankie’s heart seemed full of sunshine; at least it shone out of his bright eyes, as he kissed his mother, and bidding Aleck good-bye, he ran down the walk, and disappeared behind the poplars. His mother and Aleck watched till the trees hid him from view, then Mrs. Western took her sewing, and Aleck his book. He studied a little each day and always looked forward to the lesson hour with pleasure, but this morning a sigh escaped him as he turned from the out-door sunshine to the in-door work. Full of pity for the patient child, Mrs. Western sat down beside him, and smoothing his hair caressingly, said, “It is hard, my child. I wish you could go too, but your heavenly Father knows best. He does not willingly afflict you.”

The tender words brought tears to his eyes, and, resting his head wearily on his hand, he said, “I ken it is a’ for the best, I hae a guid hame. You are like my ain mither. The Laird is guid, but I am sae tired.”

“You will not feel so tired when you can be out in the air more,” replied Mrs. Western, cheerily. “Keep up your courage. You may be a strong, hearty boy yet.”

“Please tell me about heaven. It seems to me it is a bonny country, fu’ o’ singin’ birds, and wi’ the ‘green pastures and still waters;’ but I read in the Book that the streets were a’ paved wi’ gold.” The boy’s eye brightened as he spoke of heaven.

“‘Eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive’ the beauties, the glories of heaven,” said Mrs. Western; “but this we know, that our Father is there, and that we shall be free from pain, and sorrow, and sin. It will not be long before we shall know for ourselves all the glories of that home.”

Thus they talked of heaven until Aleck forgot all the suffering and weariness of earth.

Frankie reached Miss Campbell’s just in time to get his seat before school commenced. Miss Campbell read a brief chapter in the Bible, and offered an earnest prayer to God, that he would help them to do right and perform all their duties faithfully. Then the lessons were assigned, and they all went to work in earnest. “‘New broom sweeps clean,’” said Mrs. Keller, grimly, as she looked in upon them in the afternoon. “Wait a week or so and your hands’ll be full. Mark my words, Ruth, those young ones will torment the life out on ye.”

Miss Ruth smiled, and looked hopefully at her little charge, as she said, “I don’t expect to escape my share of trouble, Mrs. Keller, but I do not think that much of it will come by these little ones.”

The children heard the conversation, and mentally resolved to be very good, in order to disappoint Mrs. Keller and to please Miss Ruth.

When school closed they all joined in singing one of their Sunday school hymns—“Let us walk in the Light.” Frankie lingered a little after the others went out, and going to Miss Ruth said, “Won’t you tell me, please, just what it means to walk in the light? Is it to be good?”

“To be good?” said Miss Ruth. “Yes; those who walk in the light of God’s commandments are good. But I will explain it. If you were walking alone in the woods on a night so dark that you could not see one step before you, would you not be in danger of falling? And if, in the path, there were deep holes, fallen trees, and tangled underbrush, would you dare to walk in such a place on a dark night?”

“No, ma’am,” said Frankie, promptly. “I’d take our lantern, and then I guess it wouldn’t be so very easy.”

“Not very easy, perhaps,” Miss Ruth replied, “but if in your lantern you had so bright a light that you could see your path plainly, then you could walk around a fallen trunk, separate the tangled briers, and avoid the dangerous holes. With such a journey before you, would you not be very grateful to a kind friend who would offer you such a lantern, saying, ‘Take this to be a lamp unto your feet and a light unto your path. If you walk in this light, and trust to me, I will guide you safely through the wilderness into the pleasant land beyond, where you will need no light, and where you will forget all the rough way in which you have come, or remember it only to sing praises to Him who was your Guide and Friend.’”

“Oh, Miss Ruth,” Frankie said eagerly, “I know what you mean. The light is the Bible, and the pleasant land is heaven. Mamma once told me something like what you have said.”

“Then, Frankie,” said Miss Ruth, “remember to ‘walk in the light’ of God’s word.”

Bidding his teacher good-night, Frankie went home, his heart full of what he had heard about the “light of God,” and of resolutions to “walk in that light.”

When he went in he found Aleck watching for him, anxious to hear about the school. So he told him the events of the day, and the conversation he had with Miss Ruth, adding, in conclusion, “and I’m going to try to walk in the light, Aleck. Let us read the Bible the first thing in the morning, before we have a chance to do anything wrong.”

“Yes,” said Aleck, “and then we’ll pray.”

“And ‘watch,’” added Mrs. Western. “Watch over your thoughts and feelings, and all the little actions of the day. Trust in God, watch and pray, and He will give you the victory.”

CHAPTER VII

THE COASTING MATCH—WHO BEAT?

Miss Ruth found that Mrs. Keller was mistaken; that, instead of being torments, her pupils were little comforts, and she loved them all very dearly. The spring and summer days flew by, vacation came, and again in the autumn she gathered the children about her.

Much to the annoyance of the little girls, and somewhat to Frankie’s, Ben Field had gained admission. “Oh, dear!” sighed Kate Plummer, “that Ben Field is just going to spoil our fun. I can’t endure him.”

“I do wish Miss Ruth had said he couldn’t come,” said Lou White, then, tossing back her brown curls, “there’s one thing about it, I shan’t notice him.”

“Nor I,” “nor I,” said they all, excepting Millie Ray. Sweet Millie Ray! “Poor Ben,” she said, “how lonely he’ll be. Don’t you think we ought to be good to him, Frank,” turning to Frankie, who was just entering the school-room. “Don’t you think we ought to be good to Ben Field?”

“Of course, Millie,” said Frankie. “Why? Who isn’t?”

“Oh, nobody, only some of us are sorry he’s coming to school,” Millie answered. “Ain’t you sorry?”

Frankie hesitated a moment, then said frankly, “No, Millie, I’m not sorry when I think about it as I ought to. Ben needs to come as much as any of us. I guess he’ll be pleasant enough if we are good to him.”

Frankie’s influence gave Ben a better reception from the girls than he would otherwise have met with, and, for a time, he was quite a pleasant playmate. But after a few weeks, when the novelty had worn off, his old spirit of mischief manifested itself. He delighted in teasing the younger boys and little girls.

One day, after the snow came, the boys had a race in coasting, to see which of their sleds was the swiftest. They started at the very top of a long hill. There was Willie Prime on his Reindeer, Joe West on his Express, Ben Field on his Lightning, David Dwight on his Victor, and Frankie on his Light.

They are ready to start. Frankie counts, “one—two—three—four”—and away go Reindeer, Express, Lightning, Victor, and Light. Willie steers too much toward the right, and Reindeer plunges head-foremost into a drift; Joe looks around to see Willie, Express runs off from the track, and both are landed in a ditch on the left. The race is now for Lightning, Victor, and Light; Light being a little in advance, Lightning next, then Victor. Ben is very anxious to win the race. By a push he may turn Light from the track, and thus gain upon Frankie. He steers his sled to the right, and comes down upon Light so suddenly that Frankie is thrown off into the snow, and Victor and Lightning reach the foot of the hill nearly at the same time.

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Ben Field. That was a mean trick. I’d play fair if I didn’t beat.” All this Frankie said, as he brushed the snow from his clothes, and his flashing eyes looked every word of it.

“Guess I ain’t ashamed to beat,” Ben said, sullenly.

“But it wasn’t fair,” said the girls, all in a breath. “You know Frank was ahead till you steered your sled right into his.”

“You’d better keep still. I don’t want girls meddlin’ with my business,” said Ben, rudely.

“We are the judges,” answered Lou White. “We aren’t meddling.”

By this time, Frankie had thought what he ought to do. It was hard, but Jesus gave him strength to do it bravely. “Never mind,” he said. “Don’t say any more about it. Forgive me, Ben, for being angry with you.”

Ben did feel ashamed then, and the boys and girls looked very much surprised.

“I’d rather not beat than be so mean,” Willie said.

“I’d give it to him,” said Joe, as he carefully examined Express to see if it was marred by its tumble into the ditch.

“I beat anyhow,” Ben said, sullenly, kicking in the snow.

“I think Frank Western beat the best,” said little Millie Ray. “Let’s judge that Frank beat, girls.” So Millie, and Kate, and Lou, and all the girls said that Frankie beat.

“No,” said Frankie, “that isn’t fair. I didn’t beat. Perhaps I might, but I didn’t.”

“Just like girls,” muttered Ben. “Go for a fellow they like.” He walked off, vexed with himself and his playmates, while the others went into the school-room and told Miss Ruth all about it.

Miss Ruth opened the large Bible, and turning to Proverbs, read:

“A soft answer turneth away wrath, but grievous words stir up anger.”

“Better is it to be of an humble spirit with the lowly, than to divide the spoil with the proud.”

“He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit, than he that taketh a city.” Then, turning to the New Testament, she read:

“Love your enemies.”

“My little children, let us not love in word, neither in tongue; but in deed and in truth.”

Miss Ruth closed the Bible, saying nothing, for she knew that the children understood what she had read, and that God’s word would reach their hearts better than anything she might say.

They took their seats quietly, and when Ben came in, he was much surprised to meet none but pleasant looks.

When Frankie was on his way home after school, Ben came running to overtake him, all out of breath.

“Hallo! Frank Western, stop a minute,” he shouted. Frank waited for him. It was an awkward thing for Ben to do, something he had probably never done before, but he went through with it quite well.

“I say, Frank, that was a mean trick I served you. You took it so cool I was ashamed of myself, and I don’t blame the boys and girls for being down on me.”

He had not asked forgiveness, but Frankie did not wait for that.

“Never mind, Ben,” he said, cordially. “We’ll have another race to-morrow. Come home with me and see Aleck. Poor fellow! He gets lonesome.” So they walked on together.

“What makes you so much better than the other boys?” asked Ben, abruptly.

“O Ben, don’t speak in that way,” said Frankie, looking troubled. “I’m not good, but, do you know, it is ever so much easier to keep from getting angry if you think about Jesus.”

Ben looked astonished, but Frankie told him in his own childlike way of the Saviour, and how he would help even little children to serve him.

It was in this way that Aleck and Frankie worked for Jesus, by obeying him, and by telling others of him.

CHAPTER VIII

ALECK GOES HOME

Winter snow gave place to the spring flowers, and now Aleck can go into the yard, with our sturdy Frankie for a support. The boys are together nearly all the time. Aleck, with his gentle ways, to soften the more boyish nature of our robust little hero, and Frankie, with his merry heart, to brighten the life of his suffering friend.

It was Aleck who helped him out of trouble; who urged him to be gentle and forgiving, even to Ben Field; to obey his mother; and to try in every way to please Jesus. It was Aleck who studied the hard lesson first and then helped him, and who sharpened all the slate-pencils; who made the tops and kites and buzz-wheels, and, in short, shared in all of Frankie’s play and work.

But as the summer heat came on, the busy hands grew strangely idle. Mrs. Western noticed the change and tried at first by giving simple tonics, then by employing a physician, to restore his strength, but it was in vain. He would lie for hours on a couch before the open window, dreamily watching the soft summer sky, and listening to the singing of the birds.

He seldom roused from this dreamy state, excepting to listen to the reading of the Bible, or to his favorite hymn, “My Ain Countree.” Two of the verses he would say over and over to himself.

“The earth is flecked wi’ flowers, mony tinted, fresh an’ gay,The birdies warble blithely, for my Father made them sae;But these sights an’ these sounds wi’ as naething be to me,When I hear the angels singin’ in my Ain Countree.“Like a bairn to its mither, a wee birdie to its nest,I wad fain be gangin’ noo unto my Saviour’s breast;For he gathers in his bosom witless, worthless lambs like me,An’ carries them himsel’ to his Ain Countree.”

The time was nearer than they thought when he should go to his “Ain Countree.” Frankie would not believe that Aleck would die. When his mother told him that it must be, he ran at once to Aleck, and, throwing himself on the bed beside him, cried, “O Aleck, you are not going to die. You must get well. Why, you are only two years older than I am. You oughtn’t to die yet.”

“Dinna feel bad, Frankie,” Aleck said, “I am sorry to leave you, but I’m glad to be wi’ mither, an’ O Frankie, think of it, how soon I sha’ see the Saviour. I wi’ wait for you. You wi’ mind a’ our talks about Jesus when I’m gone, Frankie, and try to do something for him every day. There’s Ben, an’ Joe, an’ Willie, an’ a’ the lads—tell them how guid it is to hae sic a friend as Jesus.”

“Yes, I will, Aleck. I’ll try to do better, but I won’t have you to help me, and it seems so easy for me to do wrong.”

“You wi’ hae Jesus. O Frankie, trust in Jesus.”

Thus did the little sufferer, forgetful of self, seek to comfort others. Very tenderly did the Shepherd bear this wounded lamb away from the earthly fold to the shelter of the heavenly,—so quietly that they knew not when he died, but thought he slept. In his sleep he murmured faintly, “Mither,” and again, “Jesus loves me,” and a line of his favorite hymn, “he wi’ carry me himsel’ to his Ain Countree.” Then came a quiet slumber, followed by that sleep whose waking is in heaven.

CHAPTER IX

THE VISIT TO ALECK’S GRAVE. THE FATHER’S RETURN

Frankie missed his friend sadly. He lost all interest in his school, and did not care for kites, or tops, or marbles. He grew pale, and very unlike the once happy little fellow,

“With eyes so full of brightness,And lips so rosily red.”

One Sabbath morning in the early autumn he went with his mother to the cemetery. There was as yet no stone at Aleck’s grave, but Frankie had planted a white rose-bush, which was then in all its snowy bloom.

“We must take up the rose-bush,” said Mrs. Western. “It is an exotic, and cannot endure our severe frosts and snow.”

“What is an exotic?” asked Frankie.

“A plant that does not grow naturally in our climate. This rose belongs to a warmer climate, and that is why we keep it in the house during the winter. Thus God takes care of his children. Heaven is our home, and when the winds blow too coldly and roughly for us here, God transplants us. He has taken Aleck from all the cold and storms to the heavenly garden. We should not mourn for him, Frankie. Does not our Father know best? Then it will be only a little while before we shall be taken—only a few years before we shall all be transplanted into the garden of the Lord. You must try to be happy, my child. You must not forget Aleck, but remember that you have a work to do for Jesus, and a part of that work is to be cheerful and patient, showing that a little boy who loves Jesus need never be unhappy.”

Frankie listened quietly. His mother’s words made a deep impression, and he tried after that to be cheerful, but it was a long time before his face had its wonted brightness.

Later in the autumn, when the maples were in their gayest colors of crimson and gold, a great joy came to Frankie’s home. A letter was received, saying that the father would be with them at Christmas time.

Oh, the preparations that were made for his coming! Frankie worked with his mother, and before winter fairly closed in everything about the house and yard was in perfect order. Then came the waiting, the most difficult task of all. But the even-footed hours will not hurry their pace, so Frankie tries to be patient, and now the day is at hand.

The whole house is made fresh and fragrant with boughs of pine and fir. Only one more night! The father will be at home in the morning.

Frankie thought he would not sleep a wink for the thought of it, but he did sleep soundly; and when he awoke, the sun was shining into the window; and by the bedside stood his mother, with tears in her eyes, and beside her was the tall man with black hair, and smiling, dark eyes, whom he had seen in his dreams, and whose picture he had kissed and called “papa” even when a baby.

It was indeed a “merry Christmas,” and more than that, a joyous, happy one, full of sweet home pleasures and pleasant memories, sanctified by the thought of the dear Christ, God’s best gift—his Christmas gift to a sinful world.

CHAPTER X

CONCLUSION

Frankie was the hero of the school after his father’s coming. Boys and girls gathered about him at noon, and recess, and after school, to listen to his stories of his father’s life in California—of the giant trees, the mines, the snow-covered mountains, and all the wonders of the Land of Gold.

“Let’s go some time, boys,” said Joe West, one noon, as they stood listening, with wide-open eyes.

“I’ll go,” said Willie Prime, “just as soon as I’m a man.”

“I’ll go before that,” said Ben. “’Tain’t no use for me to stay here.”

Poor boy! Having a drunken father, it was not strange he thought it of no use to remain at home.

“Are you ever going, Frank?” asked Millie Ray. “Is it too far for girls to go?”

“Oh no, Millie,” answered Frank. “’Tisn’t too far, but girls would be afraid of the Indians an’ bears and everything. But I’ll tell you how we’ll fix it. We’ll all go. Joe, and Will, and Ben, and Kate, and Lou, and you, and I. Then, you know, us boys’ll keep the Indians and bears away.”

“That’ll be splendid,” said Millie, clapping her hands as delightedly as though Frankie had been planning a school picnic on the bank of the creek.

The spirit of adventure had so taken possession of the children that they found it very hard to study. Every high snow-bank was the Rocky Mountain range, and every gully or ravine the entrance into a mine.

Miss Ruth had, finally, to insist upon well-learned lessons, under the penalty of being kept after school. Frankie was one of the first to suffer this penalty. He had failed in his geography lesson, having spent his time tracing the overland route to California. Ben Field was the other culprit. It was not new to him, so he cared but little about it, excepting that it pleased him to have such a good boy as Frankie Western kept too.

“How do you like it, Frank?” he asked, as soon as Miss Ruth had left the room.

Frankie had begun to study with all his might, so he looked up only a moment as he said, “I deserve it,” and after that Ben could not make him speak. Through the force of Frankie’s example, Ben also studied faithfully, and when, an hour later, Miss Ruth came in to hear the lesson, both boys recited it perfectly.

It was hard for Frankie to tell his father and mother why he was so late that night, and, for a moment, he felt tempted to give some other reason than the true one; but he thought of what the Bible says of him “who loveth or maketh a lie,” and decided to tell the whole truth. It was the last time he failed to study his Geography lesson, but by no means the last time he did wrong. He had the faults and temptations from which none are free, and was but a “babe in Christ,” just learning to “walk in the narrow way.” But he trusted in Jesus, and tried to imitate his example. The Saviour loves his “little ones” very tenderly, and one of his last commands to his disciples, “Feed my lambs.”

In the spring a small marble slab was placed at Aleck’s grave, and Frankie set out the white rose bush again, and some lilies of the valley.

The slab had for an inscription only Aleck’s name and two lines of his hymn:

“For he gathers in his bosom witless, worthless lambs like me,An’ carries them himsel’ to his Ain Countree.”

Frankie still mourned for his lost playmate and friend; but he was happy in his pleasant home, in trying to please his parents, and in endeavoring to obey his Heavenly Father.

Miss Ruth is still happy in teaching her little ones; Joe, Willie, and Millie have joined in the service of Christ, and Miss Ruth hopes that Kate, and Lou, and even Ben, are thinking of what they owe their Saviour. Now we must leave them, rejoicing in the thought that though the world lieth in darkness, in Jesus Christ there is “light for little ones.”

THE END