Kitabı oku: «Ella Clinton; or, By Their Fruits Ye Shall Know Them», sayfa 6

"Well I sha'n't pay any more than a dollar and a half for my two youngest, and two for Jane. You must remember that you're just commencing, and nobody expects to make anything the first year in any business. You can't expect to have many scholars at first, because how are we to know that you are a good teacher? and if you want people to send their children, you'll have to take them very cheap."

"It would not pay at all, ma'am, at the rate you propose," said Ella; "you must remember that I have to furnish my room, and pay my rent, and very soon I will have to buy fuel. And if I am to have but few scholars, it seems to me that it's only an additional reason why I need to ask a good price."

"Oh, well, you can't expect to make anything the first year; I've often heard business men say so; but I've told you what I'm willing to give for my children, and I sha'n't pay a cent more. If other people choose to give more, of course they can do as they please."

Ella sat considering what she had better do.

"Will you take them for that?" said Mrs. Wiley, "I want to have it settled at once."

"Perhaps I had better," thought Ella, "as I am just commencing, and they are the first that have offered to-day, though it will be teaching them for almost nothing, and we need money sadly; but then anything is better than nothing. Yes, ma'am," she said aloud, "I will take them for that, as they are the first that have been offered to-day; though I am sure it is far less than my labour will be worth."

"Oh well, you mustn't expect to get the worth of your labour at first, for, as I told you before, people never expect to make anything the first year."

Ella carried a much heavier heart out of that house, than she brought into it. She felt so discouraged, so heart-sick, that it required quite an effort to keep back her tears, and she felt as if it were almost impossible to enter the next house. She was very young, and this was her first trial of the world. But she remembered that she was in the path of duty, and sending up a silent prayer for strength and assistance, she opened the gate, walked quickly up the path, and knocked at the door. It was opened by a pleasant looking lady, who kindly invited her to come in and take a seat. Ella sat down, and was hesitating how to introduce her business, when the lady remarked:

"You are the Miss Clinton, who is about opening a school, I believe?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Ella.

"I am very glad of it indeed, for I don't like to send my children to the public school; they get into so much bad company there. What are your terms, Miss Clinton?"

Ella made the same reply she had to Mrs. Wiley.

"Well, that's little enough, I'm sure," said Mrs. Blair, "for I know children are very troublesome; and I often wonder how teachers ever have patience to bear with them. I have four large enough to go, and I shall send them all, if you will take them. I hope they'll behave themselves, but if they don't, you must either correct them yourself, or let me know. The youngest is only four years old, but she's a bright little thing, and I'm sure will learn. Have you been in to see Mrs. Wiley?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Ella; "she is to send three, but is not willing to pay much more than half price."

"What a shame! She's perfectly able to pay double the price if she chose, for Mr. Wiley is the richest man in town; but they are very close, and never pay more for anything than they are obliged to. But you ought not to have taken them so low; the best plan is never to take any for less than your price, unless they are poor, and you do it out of charity."

"I did not know what was best," said Ella, "but I thought as they were the first that had offered to-day, and I am but just commencing, perhaps I had better not refuse."

"It may be so, but don't let anybody else know that you took them for half price, or they may expect you to do the same for them. I saw you looked quite down-hearted when you came in, but you must not get discouraged; there are some mean people here as well as everywhere else, but there are a great many very nice ones too; and I have no doubt you will have a very good school, and do finely after a little."

"Thank you; you are very kind," said Ella, gratefully.

"Kind words don't cost anything; so I think we can all afford to give them," replied Mrs. Blair, smiling.

"Aunt Prudence," said Ella that evening, half laughing and half crying, "I think I shall find it a puzzling matter to know how to manage my school; at least if I try to please all the parents. One woman told me her child would have to be petted and humoured; another, that she wished me to be very strict with hers. One thinks that they should play nearly all the time, and another, that they should have scarcely any play at all. One says I must never strike her child; she will never send him where there is any whipping done; and judging by what I saw of him to-day, I think it will be no easy task to manage him, for he doesn't mind his mother at all. And lastly, another woman tells me I must whip her child, for she knows I can't manage her without. Now what am I to do?"

"Well, Ella, you must try to do your duty by them all, and just use your own judgment about it. It would be impossible to please all the parents, so you may just as well take your own way."

"Thank you, aunt Prudence, you have quite comforted me. I will take your advice; try to do my duty, and ask God to give me wisdom, and I know he will, for he says, 'If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.' I am to have some quite large girls, aunt Prudence; some of them quite as tall and as old as myself."

"Do you think you can manage them?"

"I don't know, I feel a little nervous about it, and should feel very much so, were it not for the promise I just repeated, and this other, 'As thy day, so shall thy strength be.'"

"How fond you are of quoting Scripture, Ella, you seem to have a text for everything! You are just like your mother for that. I don't see how you can ever remember and think of them all."

"I suppose it must be because they are so sweet and comforting," replied Ella.

Ella lay awake a long time that night, arranging her plans for conducting her school. It seemed to her a very great undertaking, full of responsibility, and her thoughts could dwell upon little else for weeks beforehand. She thought over all Miss Layton's rules, and her mode of teaching and of managing her scholars, and determined to copy her as nearly as possible. She remembered that Miss Layton always opened her school with prayer; must she do that? She shrank at the thought of doing so before so many young persons, some of whom were older than herself. "But I ought to do it," said she to herself. "'In all thy ways acknowledge him;' yes, I ought to do it, and whatever I ought to do I can do. But I know there are many teachers who do not, – perhaps, after all, it is not necessary. It would be a great cross to me to do it. I will pray for my scholars at home, surely that will be sufficient. No, it will not; I must show them that I am on the Lord's side, that I am trying to serve him, and am not ashamed to have it known that I am his servant. I will ask God to deliver me from the fear of man, and help me to forget all but his presence, that I may not approach him with lip service, but may come with my whole heart. Yes, I will acknowledge him in all my ways, and he will direct my paths."

Ella succeeded pretty well in collecting a school. She had nearly twenty scholars present on the first day, and, in accordance with her resolution, she did open her school with prayer that morning, and every day afterwards, though for a long time it continued to be a trial to her to do so. She found many opportunities to practise patience, both in teaching and governing her scholars. Sometimes they were idle, or dull; sometimes stubborn, mischievous, or impertinent. Sometimes they came late, or stayed away altogether, until they were far behind their classes; and there seemed to be no end to their carelessness, and forgetfulness concerning books, inks, pens, pencils, &c. &c. Then at the end of the term she found it both difficult and disagreeable to collect her dues. And these were not all her trials. She was separated from her dear Christian friends, Miss Layton, and Mary Young, and she missed them sadly. And aunt Prudence's temper had not been improved by poverty, as Ella was often made to feel. But when the weary day with all its cares and toils was over, and she could be alone with her Bible and her best Friend, her heavenly Father, how sweet it was to cast all her cares upon him, to tell him all her griefs, her troubles, her doubts, and her fears, and to ask him for strength for coming trials!

How sweet to remember 'all his mercies past, and future good implore!' How sweet to read his blessed word and call each promise hers! How sweet was the sense of pardoned sin – how sweet to remember that Christ had kept the law for her, and suffered the penalty in her stead!

Another, though inferior source of comfort was found in writing to, and receiving letters from Miss Layton, and Mary Young.

CHAPTER VIII

Miss Prudence continued quite unable to do anything all winter, some of Ella's scholars dropped off on account of the severity of the weather, and the man who had taken her aunt's house failed to pay his rent. All these causes combined brought down their resources very much indeed, and Ella began to economize in every possible way, while she looked forward to the future with a good deal of anxiety. She also exerted herself to sew in the evenings that she might earn a little more, but she was generally too weary and sleepy after her day's work to accomplish much. She did not fail to ask help of Him who has promised to be a Father to the fatherless, and to hear his children when they cry; and sometimes when she had cast all her cares upon him, and read the precious promises of his word, her heart was filled with peace and joy, and she felt sure that he would never suffer them to come to want; but she was a young Christian, and sometimes her faith was weak, and unbelief would suggest that perhaps, after all, these promises were not meant for her; that one so weak and sinful as she, could hardly hope she was a child of God; then what right had she to claim his promises as hers? and besides, were not Christians sometimes left to suffer want? and then she was unhappy indeed.

One day Ella felt very much distressed; they were almost out of flour, and fuel, and nearly every other necessary, all her last quarter's money had been spent, their rent was due the next day, and her present quarter would not close for some weeks. What was to be done? She had no earthly friend to go to for assistance, but she carried her trouble to her heavenly Father.

"Bread shall be given him; his waters shall be sure. Your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things. But seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you. Take therefore no thought for the morrow, for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Call upon me in the day of trouble; I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me. I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee. Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my words shall not pass away." These were some of the promises she found in his word, and feeling a firm assurance that he would be faithful to his promises, she went to her work with a calm and quiet mind, and a cheerful countenance. "Be careful for nothing but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God; and the peace of God which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus." Do you doubt it, reader? Only make the trial. "Then shall ye know, if ye follow on to know the Lord."

Ella returned from school in the evening, and still there was no apparent prospect of relief, but she did not feel troubled; she knew it would come in due time. Her aunt had no idea how nearly destitute they were, for Ella had not thought it necessary to tell her, as she knew it would only distress her, and could do no good.

Tea was over, the dishes washed, everything put in order, and Ella had seated herself with her sewing at her aunt's bedside, when there was a rap at the outer door. Ella rose, went into the hall, and opened the door. Seeing a gentleman standing before it, she said,

"Good evening, sir, will you walk in?"

"No, thank you," said he, "I have hardly time. I cannot account for it, Miss Clinton, but it has come into my head several times to-day, that you might be in want of money, and that I might just as well pay you for the children's schooling now, as two or three weeks hence; so I have brought it round. I suppose you have no objection?"

"Thank you," said Ella, scarcely able to command her voice, "I was in need of it. You are very kind indeed."

"Not at all," said he. "Good evening!"

It was a gentleman who sent her a number of scholars, and the money he had brought was more than sufficient to relieve their present necessities. With a full heart, Ella thanked the Giver of all good. "Oh, how could I ever doubt!" she exclaimed. "Truly he is faithful to his promises!" She now went to her aunt, and told her the whole story.

As they had only Ella's school to depend upon, they had quite a struggle to live through the winter, and several times were brought to great straits, but help always came in time to save them from actual suffering.

As spring approached, there was some improvement in Miss Prudence's health, so that she was now able to sit in an arm-chair through the day, and use her hands a little in sewing. She had been more silent than usual for some days; seeming very low spirited, seldom speaking, and when she did, always in her very crossest tones.

It was a dark, chilly, uncomfortable afternoon. Ella was coming home from school, and as she passed the post-office, she called to inquire for letters. It was a long time since she had heard from either of her friends, and she was anxiously looking for a letter; but there was none, and she turned away with a heavy sigh. There are times when the mind seems to partake of the weariness of the body; when the spirit sinks beneath its load; when one feels weary of life – weary of the constant struggle for existence, and longs to be done with the cares and toils, the doubts, fears and anxieties of this life. So Ella felt to-night, as she wended her weary way towards her cheerless home.

"Oh, if I had only one friend to sympathize with, and encourage me!" sighed she. "It is so long since I have heard from either of my dear friends, that I almost begin to fear that they have forgotten me. If so, how entirely friendless I am! No, not friendless; there are many dear, kind, christian people here, though I do not yet know them well enough to go to them with my troubles, and ask for their sympathy; but have I not a 'Friend that sticketh closer than a brother?' one whose love will never grow cold; one who never changes; 'Jesus Christ the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever?'

 
'His love, no end nor measure knows,
No change can turn its course;
Immutably, the same it flows
From one eternal source.'
 

"Oh, how wrong is this feeling of discontent and weariness; this repining at my lot, when I know that it is all ordered by Him who is infinitely wise and good! And Oh, how many blessings I have, and yet how unworthy am I of the very least of them! 'Be content with such things as ye have, for he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.' Precious promise! what more do I need?"

Filled with such sweet and comforting thoughts, she entered the room where her aunt was sitting, with a light step and cheerful face. She was extremely surprised to find Miss Prudence in tears. It was a sight so unusual – for it had always been Miss Prudence's boast that she was above such weakness – that Ella thought something dreadful must have happened.

"Dear aunt Prudence, what is the matter?" she exclaimed.

"Nothing," said Miss Prudence, turning away her face.

"Nothing, dear aunt Prudence? I am very sure it can be no trifle that moves you so. My dear aunt, we two are all alone in the world; surely, you will not refuse me a share in your confidence."

"Go away, Ella! I told you it was nothing; can't you believe me?" replied Miss Prudence, angrily.

Seeing that it would be useless to press the matter farther at that time, Ella left her aunt, and set about getting tea, her mind all the time occupied with conjectures as to what might be the cause of Miss Prudence's trouble. Miss Prudence had never made a profession of religion, but she often boasted that she was "quite as good as any member of the church, and a great deal better than some of them; for she read a chapter in the Bible every day, and went regularly to church twice every Sabbath, rain or shine, which was more than some of the members did. She was a good neighbour, kind to the poor, never cheated anybody in her life, and always tried to do as near right as she could; and so she thought she had about as good a chance of going to Heaven as any of the rest." Indeed, she was very much like the Pharisee who prayed: "God, I thank thee that I am not as other men are; unjust, extortioners, nor even as this publican."

Ella had offered up many fervent prayers on her aunt's behalf, that she might be led to see upon what a broken reed she was leaning; that God would open the eyes of her understanding, that she might become sensible how entirely without merit were her very best deeds, yea, even needing to be forgiven, hateful in the sight of God, because not done from any desire to glorify him, but from entirely selfish motives; and that seeing these things to be so, and how utterly helpless and undone she was, she might be led to lay hold upon the hope set before her, and accept of Jesus Christ as he is freely offered in the gospel, trusting in his merits alone for salvation. Could it be that her prayers were about to be answered? She felt a faint hope that it might indeed be so. The evening passed in almost total silence, for though Miss Prudence seemed restless and ill at ease, she was not disposed to talk, but appeared to be occupied with her own thoughts. Ella was wearied with the labours of the day, and had been nodding over her sewing for some minutes, when the clock struck nine.

"You had better go to bed, Ella," said Miss Prudence. "There is no use in trying to sew, when you can't keep your eyes open."

"I believe I might as well," replied Ella, folding up her work; "but you will go too, aunt Prudence, won't you?"

"No; it's no use, for I couldn't sleep," said Miss Clinton, leaning her head upon her hand, with a heavy sigh.

"Do your limbs pain you worse than usual to-night, aunt?" asked Ella.

"No, child, they're easy enough at present; but bodily pain is not always the hardest to bear."

"What is it that troubles you so, dear aunt? let me at least give you my sympathy, if I can do nothing more."

Miss Prudence remained silent, but Ella ventured again to urge her to confide her trouble to her.

"Ella," she said at last, "I used to say – and I thought it too – that I was quite as good as any of my neighbours, and quite as likely to go to Heaven as any of those who made a profession of religion. I considered myself quite good, and deserving of salvation; but lately my views and feelings have changed, and I seem to myself to be a very great sinner, so hardened and so wicked that it frightens me to think of it; for I don't see how it is possible that such a vile wretch can be saved. I'm afraid I have sinned away my day of grace, and I shall go down to hell."

"Dear aunt Prudence, listen to what God says, 'Deliver him from going down to the pit; I have found a ransom.' 'This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.'"

"But not such sinners as I; remember how many years I have been turning a deaf ear to all his invitations; how often he has called, and I have refused. Oh! these words are constantly ringing in my ears: 'Because I have called, and ye refused; I have stretched out my hand, and no man regarded; but ye have set at nought all my counsel, and would none of my reproof; I also will laugh at your calamities, I will mock when your fear cometh.' O Ella, I am sure those words are spoken to me," she added, with a shudder, covering her face with her hands.

"Dear aunt, he says, 'I will be merciful to their unrighteousness, and their sins and iniquities will I remember no more.'"

"It doesn't mean me," she replied, with a hopeless shake of the head.

"'Come now and let us reason together, saith the Lord; though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow, though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.' Dear aunt, those words are addressed to you as much as to any one."

Miss Clinton shook her head. "They might have been once, but not now, it is too late."

"Aunt Prudence, God says, 'I have no pleasure in the death of him that dieth, but rather that he turn from his evil way and live.' 'Turn ye, turn ye, for why will ye die, O house of Israel?'"

"That's not for me, for I can't turn. I might have done it once, but now it's too late."

"Why do you say it is too late, aunt? Would you limit the power of God? Are we not told that 'Christ is able to save to the uttermost, all that come unto God by him,' and does he not invite you to come? 'Come unto me all ye that labour, and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.'"

"But he says, 'My Spirit shall not always strive,' and I can't expect that he will ever strive with me again, since I have resisted him, and grieved him away so often. No, it is too late."

"Aunt Prudence, I am sure he has not ceased to strive with you, or you would not feel the anxiety that you do. I believe he is striving with you now."

"No, Ella, you have no idea how hard, how dreadfully hard my heart is. Ella, fifty years I have lived in rebellion against God, I have given all my best days to the world; I did not seek God early, and now I cannot expect to find him."

"Remember the thief on the cross, aunt Prudence, saved at the eleventh hour. 'God is the Lord, the Lord God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and of great mercy, forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin.'"

"'But who will by no means clear the guilty,'" added Miss Prudence, "and who more guilty than I?"

"But aunt Prudence, he says, 'I have found a ransom.' Jesus says, 'Come unto me and I will give you rest; you have only to come casting away every other dependence, and he will receive you.' 'Return unto the Lord and he will have mercy upon you, and to our God for he will abundantly pardon.'"

"No, Ella, not me. I have sinned away my day of grace, and now it is too late; there can be no more mercy for such a wretch as I."

"Aunt Prudence," said Ella, "the adversary of souls, the devil, 'who goeth about as a roaring lion seeking whom he may devour,' has long been successful in making you put off repentance, by persuading you to trust in a false hope, telling you that you were as good, and as likely to be saved as others; and now that he finds that he cannot make you shut your eyes any longer to the danger, he would fain persuade you that it is too late to repent and seek God. But don't – Oh! don't listen to his suggestions. It is not too late. Jesus stands ready to save you. Oh! come to him now, for he says, 'I will in no wise cast out.'"

Miss Clinton sat for some time without speaking, her face buried in her hands, while Ella was silently lifting up her heart to God in her behalf.

"Ella," said she at last, "go to bed, child, and leave me; I wish to be alone now."

Ella bent over her aunt, and kissed her forehead, saying in a low tone, "Good night, dear aunt; remember, 'He is able to save unto the uttermost.'"

The next morning, Miss Prudence seemed more composed, but said nothing on the subject of the last night's conversation, and there was something in her manner which kept Ella from alluding to it. Weeks passed away, and gradually a change seemed to come over Miss Prudence. She seemed calm, and even cheerful, was more patient than Ella had ever known her, and spoke very gently and pleasantly, and Ella several times surprised her reading her Bible, and shedding tears over it; still she said nothing on the subject for some time.

At length one quiet Sabbath-evening when they were sitting together at the window, watching the last rays of the setting sun, laying her hand on her niece's shoulder, while the tears trembled in her eyes, she said, "Ella, I have begun to indulge a faint, a trembling hope that I have been born again, that I am changed; that with me 'old things have passed away, and all things have become new,' and that when my Sabbaths here on earth are over, I shall go to spend an eternal Sabbath in heaven. Yes, spend it in praising redeeming love,

 
'Amazing love! how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.'
 

"And it is to you, Ella, under God, more than to any one else, that I owe this. I have watched you for years, and have been astonished to see the careless, proud, self-willed, passionate child, change to the meek, submissive, patient, and humble young Christian. I had often said to myself that there was nothing in religion, but how could I doubt it any longer when I saw such fruits?"

"O aunt Prudence," said Ella, "I have often felt afraid that I was the stumbling block in your way that was keeping you from coming to Christ; for I have come so very far short in the performance of my duty, I have shown so little of the spirit of Christ."

"I know you are not perfect, Ella, but you are strangely changed, and I can plainly see that you are trying to serve God."

"Give the glory where it is due, dear aunt Prudence; but Oh, how happy I am! I feel as if I had nothing more to ask for, now that you, my dear aunt, will be my companion in my pilgrimage. God has heard my prayers. He is indeed 'the hearer, and answerer of prayer.' But, aunt Prudence, you had two much brighter examples of piety before you, in my mother and Miss Layton; did not the beautiful consistency of their lives convince you of the truth and value of religion?"

"I never knew them until years after their conversion, and when I was forced to notice how good and amiable they were, I said to myself, It is their natural disposition; but I knew what you were by nature, so that that excuse did not avail me then, and I could not but acknowledge to myself, that nothing but the power of God could have wrought such a change. And I bless God for the affliction, with which he has visited me this winter, for while confined to my bed unable to do anything, and often with nothing but my thoughts to occupy me, I seemed to be compelled to think of my past life, and to consider my latter end."

During the ensuing summer, Miss Clinton's health was almost entirely restored. She also recovered the money she had lost, and they returned to S – , to their old home. Mary and Ella were rejoiced to be once more near each other; able to take sweet counsel together, to walk together to the house of God, and together to talk of their common hopes and joys. All her old neighbours were surprised to see the strange change in Miss Prudence. The quiet, gentle, humble woman that returned to them, was so different from the loud, boisterous, proud and passionate woman that went away, that they knew not what to make of it. They all agreed that she was very much improved, but no one enjoyed the change so keenly as Ella. There was now no discord in her home, but peace and love reigned in its stead. Aunt Prudence, from being her greatest trial, had become her dearest earthly comfort: formerly, they seemed to have nothing in common; now,

 
"Their fears, their hopes, their aims were one,
Their comforts and their cares."
 

"Aunt Prudence," said Ella to her aunt, one day a few months after their return, "the school Miss Layton had when she was here last, is now without a teacher, and a gentleman was speaking to me yesterday about taking it; what do you say?"

"I think you had better not; there is no longer any necessity for you to exert yourself, unless you are too proud to depend upon me."

"I confess that I prefer being independent, aunt, though I hope it is not pride that makes me feel so; but setting that reason aside, I still feel a desire to teach. I think that scarcely any one has more opportunities for doing good than a christian teacher, and it is certainly our duty to do all the good we can; to use every talent in the service of our Master. 'To him that knoweth to do good and doeth it not, to him it is sin.' You know I succeeded in my first effort so well, that the parents of my pupils urged me to stay, and continue my school; I think that proves that I have a talent for teaching, and if I have, ought I not to use it?"

"Think of the great, the solemn responsibility, Ella."

"I have thought of it, aunt Prudence, and I feel that it is a very great responsibility; but would I get rid of it by burying my talent in the earth?"

"But, Ella, you used to come home looking so miserably tired, so completely worn out. I don't believe, my child, that it is your duty to work yourself to death."

"Nor I, either, aunt Prudence; but I don't think it will kill me. You must remember that then I had the care of the house in addition to the school; and that I shall not have now; and besides, as somebody says, 'I had rather wear out than rust out,' rather die of too much work than of too much idleness."

"Well, Ella, if you really are so anxious to teach, I will not oppose it; but as to your not liking to be dependent upon me, what difference does it make whether you take a part of my money now, or get it all at my death? for I have no one to leave it to but you, and it must all be yours at last."