Chapter XX: Lewie Amesbury's Creed

"Our eyes see dimly till by faith anointed."

HERBERT BRADFORD remained in New York about four months, when he was thrown out of business by the failure of the firm by which he was employed. Again he returned to Westville disappointed.

"I think it is queer, the trouble I have in getting into business," he said to his old friend and companion, Lewie Amesbury. "You never seem to have any trouble of any sort. I wonder what you would do, if you were disappointed and thwarted every time you tried to do anything that seemed likely to amount to something."

"I wonder what you would do, if you were disappointed and thwarted about a dozen little things every day," responded Lewie, laughing. "My life isn't so smooth and easy as you imagine; but I have got into a way of letting go of a good many annoying things, and trying new plans. Maybe I should do the same in more important cases."

"I can't lie around and do nothing," said Herbert, "so I may have to take up something else. Just for the present I am going to help father with a quantity of copying; but this is only to fill up the gap. Have you decided what to do?"

"Oh, I shall study law. I expect to enter Princeton next fall. I wish you were going. I suppose you could be ready if you studied hard until then?"

"Yes, I suppose so, and father would like it. He has always wanted me to be a lawyer, but I don't incline that way."

"You are not obliged to be a lawyer," said Lewie, laughing.

"I know," returned Herbert, "but my ambition has been to become a rich merchant—not that I should care to be just a rich man and nothing more, but I'd like to do good in the world, and if I had money, I could be so much more useful. I'd like to help poor people, build churches and send out missionaries, and that sort of thing."

"I see; that's all very nice to want to do, and maybe you'll reach that point; but I think you are made to travel by a roundabout road."

"That's so," returned Herbert. "As I said, failure is written upon everything that I undertake. I'm sure I don't know what to do."

"Ask God!" said Mr. Earle, who in passing caught the last sentence without at all guessing the drift of the conversation, but such was his thought and practice to ask God for direction in all things, and the reply came readily in reply to Herbert's bewildered tone and words. He only halted an instant, then passed hurriedly on to catch the train that was puffing and snorting in the depot, seemingly in haste to be gone. It was seed by the wayside in a literal sense, but it was also seed sown on good ground.

"What a queer man Mr. Earle is," said Lewie.

"He is a thoroughly good man," returned Herbert. "Perhaps you call that queer?"

"Well, rather; such men are rare, I confess. But I was thinking how queer to ask God whether you should be a merchant or a lawyer."

"Don't you suppose God cares?" asked Herbert, upon whose mind the thought had just flashed that he had never asked God any such thing.

"I don't know; but if He cares enough to interfere, He will do so without your asking."

"Don't you believe in prayer?" questioned Herbert, in a troubled tone.

"I don't disbelieve in it. I suppose it has its place and its uses; but I don't believe that it will make any difference with your business arrangements whether you pray about them or not. Now didn't you pray over that affair at Mr. Wynn's store and you got your leave of absence for all that!—And I suppose you prayed when you went to Dayton's, and when you were in New York, and yet here you are without a situation, no better off than as if you had never prayed at all."

"What do you think prayer is for, then?"

"Why, I suppose that some people find comfort in it," returned Lewie. "I suppose you do, and Mr. Earle, and my father. I suppose there is such a thing as a kind of communion with God, and I presume that people who are so privileged gain spiritual strength, and that helps them over hard places. I know father smooths the tangles out every morning so far as they concern him; but as for things really being any different, I never could see that. Now, Herbert, did you ever get what people call a direct answer to prayer?" Lewie asked presently, and Herbert replied,—

"Yes, more than once—answers so direct that no power on earth could convince me that I was mistaken. I'll tell you of one instance which I think was remarkable. It was connected with the lawsuit against the widow Blake's place. You remember that it was Tom Allan's testimony that proved her claim. Father was her lawyer, and he had been very much troubled, because nobody knew what had become of Tom Allan. He hadn't been heard from in five or six years, and there was no hope unless he could be found.

"I felt so sorry for Aunty Blake that I couldn't keep the matter out of my mind; and I began to pray about it, asking God to let the truth come out by revealing Tom's hiding place. One day mother sent me over across the river to see if old Betsy could come and clean house. The old lady was trying to read a letter from her boy Jake, and as her eyes were poor, she asked me to read it for her. I fairly shouted over it.

"He said, 'Tom Allan turned up here the other day, and we have gone
into partnership,' &c.

"I forgot all about the house-cleaning, and rushed up to the office. Father says I came in like a whirlwind. Now you need not tell me that it just happened, because I don't believe it. Betsy said she hadn't heard from Jake before almost in two years, but you see that letter came just at the right time."

Lewie laughed a little incredulous laugh, and said, as he turned off to go to his home—

"Well, now, suppose you study out a reason for your own ill-luck."

"I intend to," was the reply.

A week later, he said—

"Lewie, it is all clear to me now. I had just made up my mind to be a merchant. I don't think I ever prayed at all on that point, but I was so presumptuous as to ask God to bless me in a decision which I had made without consulting Him. I begin now to think that this constant thwarting of my plans means something."

"So you've been studying up the case as I advised," said Lewie, with a slight sneer, which Herbert did not mind. He was used to Lewie. They did not think and feel alike upon religious subjects, but they always spoke freely to each other.

Lewie went regularly to church and Bible class (the remaining members of the old class having been transferred to Dr. Myers's class, while Mrs. McNair took charge of the younger scholars), the old motto still hung in a conspicuous place in his room, and he assured himself whenever he looked at it that he was following, even closer than many who bore the name of Christian. Did he call himself a Christian? We will see what he thought about it.

Herbert had returned home to find Westville in the midst of the spiritual awakening of which we have already written something. Mr. Earle had the rare faculty of understanding how to set people to work, and in a quiet, unostentatious way Herbert was soon earnestly engaged in the work of winning souls for Christ. It was through him that Nick Turner was led to place himself within reach of the means of grace. It was he who brought Willy and Helen Knapp to the children's meeting, and, too, it was he who rejoiced with Henry Trafton when his young sister Alice gave her heart to Christ, and his father owned Him as his Saviour. And after Duncan's conversion, a prayer-meeting was started among the boys at the seminary, and here Herbert found work. In the three years that had gone by since he gave his heart to Christ, he had tried to do his Master service as he found opportunity, but it seemed that he had never found so grand an opening for labour as now, and never before had his heart been so full of love for souls.

Mr. Earle watched him with gladness, yet with anxiety. He felt that by his providence God was calling Herbert to devote himself entirely to the work of spreading the gospel, and he waited longingly for the time when the Spirit should show the boy the meaning of those things that puzzled him now.

But to go back to what we were saying about Lewie Amesbury's thoughts, as to whether he might call himself a Christian or not. One evening, after many had spoken, old Christians out of their rich experience, and young converts out of hearts all aglow with love, Mr. Earle said—

"I have no doubt; that many, perhaps nearly all, here, would be glad to testify for Christ tonight, and if there were time, or if it were prudent to remain, we would gladly listen to their testimony; but us we cannot do this, I have a request to make. Will all who would like to speak for Christ, all Christians, and all who are willing now to accept Christ's terms of discipleship, and be known henceforth by his glorious name, will all such rise, and thus swell the crowd of witnesses?"

Every seat in that large audience-room was occupied, as were the benches and camp chairs put down in the aisles; and as Mr. Earle ceased speaking, the great congregation seemed to rise with one mind. But there were a few who retained their position, looking straight before them or down at the floor, feeling, doubtless, some embarrassment at being so small a minority. Indeed it must have required more courage to sit quietly in their places than to rise on that occasion. And Lewie was one who braved it out; and this is what he said about it as he walked home with Herbert:—

"I don't like some of Mr. Earle's measures. I think that was a very unwise course he took tonight. It is not very pleasant for a person to be forced to express his views whether he wants to or not."

"I don't understand how there can be anything objectionable in it," returned Herbert. "If one is a Christian, he certainly can have no objection to being known as such, and if one is not a Christian, he will not wish to sail under false colours. If you don't like your position, Lewie, it is a good time to take a new and safer one."

"I am satisfied with my position," said Lewie, "but I don't like to be placed in a false one. I don't class myself with those you call Christ's enemies, but I know very well that Mr. Earle didn't mean me when he called upon Christians to rise, so I sat still, like George Hawley and the rest of the set—fellows that lie and swear, and don't know the meaning of the word honour."

"Lewie! What do you mean, anyway? If you are not Christ's enemy, and if you will not acknowledge yourself as his friend, what are you?"

"I never said I wasn't his friend, only as I was put in a false position. I think I am a great deal better Christian than some who stood up there tonight, but as long as I can't talk about repentance and faith and that sort of thing, I suppose I mustn't call myself one."

"I don't understand you yet," said Herbert, perplexed and sorry. "What do you mean by being a better Christian when you don't pretend to repent of sin or to have faith in Christ?"

"Why, I mean this: In the first place, I try to do just as well as I can always. I've studied that Sermon on the Mount, and I make it my guide. And I don't know as I have done anything to repent of; and as for faith, I don't know what you mean. I believe in Christ, of course, and follow Him, too. You see, Bert, I am not your sort, but if I do what I think is right, God can't require anything more."

"I feel that you are wrong," said his friend, "though I don't suppose I could convince you. But won't you read that guide over again, and see if you haven't neglected something, and then remember that God requires perfect obedience?"

"I don't believe that God requires impossibilities," returned Lewie.

"If he only requires what we are able to perform, why did Christ take up the work of our salvation?" asked Herbert, us they parted at the gate.

One could scarcely find a flaw in Lewie Amesbury's outward life. He walked straight through the temptations that beset the boys of Westville, es in other places, and in the midst of which so many fell. At home he was vexed and annoyed, misunderstood and reproached. Yet, keeping silence, he was patient and thoughtful of others' comfort. He was industrious and studious, respectful in the house of God, and a thoroughly gentlemanly boy, growing in manliness and rapidly advancing intellectually. He only needed the crowning gift, the one thing needful, to round his character out into perfect proportions. Lacking this, what but failure could he make of his life ultimately!

Yet he was not like the young man who went away sorrowful; he had never seemed troubled about the interests of eternity, always dismissing the subject with the utmost unconcern.

"And you are not coming with the rest to-morrow?" The speaker was Tom Nichols, who was spending a few days with his old friends, and he referred to the fact that a large number, the fruits of a recent revival, were about to unite with the church. He was addressing Lewie, who replied, somewhat coldly—

"No. I have attended some of the meetings, but I have had very little interest in the matter. My time and thoughts have been very much engrossed with other things."

"Weightier matters?" asked Tom meaningly.

"Everyday duties," replied Lewie. "I suppose you call those mighty; at least you will acknowledge that they ought to receive attention."

"Certainly, after the one all-important duty has been disposed of. You remember it says, 'Seek ye first the kingdom.'"

"And that is in your creed-chapter," said Herbert, who was present.

"Well, boys, I don't see these things as you do. My ideas of what is required of us are different from yours. Herbert, you and I have the same motto, but we read it differently and go our ways accordingly. This is mine. Good night."