Chapter XII: New Lessons

IT was not late when Adam Livesey found himself on the road home, for the conductors of these mission services wisely brought them to a close at nine o'clock. They knew that their hearers would mainly consist of working men who must be in bed betimes, in order that they might be ready to rise early in the morning. It was a common thing for a few to stay and hold a brief prayer-meeting, or for individuals to ask advice from the conductors, but these would sanction no late gatherings which would unfit the men for the duties of the morrow.

Adam shrank from speaking to or being addressed by any one, and he was amongst the first to slip quietly out of the room. He had plenty to think about, and the wish uppermost in his mind was that his wife could have been with him. She would have been put right about the people she called hypocrites. He could understand her feelings about that neighbour who was constantly running about from one religious service to another, whilst neglecting her plainest every-day duties.

Adam could not have quoted the words of Jesus, "These ought ye to have done, and not to leave the other undone," but he understood the spirit of their teaching.

Then Adam remembered an experience of his own. It happened during his brief courting days, and when he was very anxious to give his pretty Maggie some little gift. Being unused to make any purchase of the kind, he had gone from window to window, and gazed at the glittering objects within, passing on and on, without being able to make up his mind.

He had wandered far beyond his usual bounds, and entered the great square of the city, in which the principal jewellers' shops were situated. Before the window of one, he stood as if spellbound, for the many ornaments it contained shone so beautifully. He thought they were bits of glass, such as hung from lustres and chandeliers in another great shop he had passed, only very finely cut. There were carriages about the door, and for a long time Adam shrank from entering, and stood, turning over his few hoarded shillings in his pocket.

One grandly dressed customer after another came out, entered a waiting carriage and was driven away, and as others did not take their places, Adam mustered enough courage first to peep round the doorway, and then to enter the shop. An assistant stepped forward and politely asked what he could show him, whilst the faces of the rest manifested surprise at the appearance of this would-be customer. Indeed, they one and all decided to keep a sharp eye on him. He had been observed as he hung about the windows for nearly half an hour past, and was regarded as a suspicious character. What could this rugged fellow in his working clothes be wanting in the shop of the first jeweller in Millborough?

In answer to the assistant's inquiry Adam said, "There's a little thing in the window I thought of buying, if it's not too much money. Please tell me what you want for it."

The assistant invited him to step outside and point out the article, which Adam did, and the young man returned to his place behind the counter, and took the little brooch from the window case, saying—

"This is the one, I believe."

"Yes," said Adam, gazing with admiring eyes, but not venturing to extend his hand that he might look at it more closely. "It's only a little thing, but it's very neat. I reckon it will not be very much, now?"

"Not much in comparison with many of the others, but the stones are good. The price is thirty-five pounds."

Adam stared like one struck dumb, and was turning to go, but "remembering manners," as he afterwards told, he said to the assistant, "Thank you kindly, sir, for telling me. I'm sorry I've given you the trouble but I might have known that the things in a grand shop like this wouldn't be for such as me."

There was something so innocent and genuine in Adam's look and words that the assistant was touched, and he said, "You are very welcome. I am sorry we have not what you want. What did you wish to spend?"

Adam blushed deeply. "Only a matter o' ten shillings, or so. But I never wanted to buy a brooch before, and I know nothing about such matters. I'm to be married in a week or two, and I thought I would buy her a present."

"You must come to us for the wedding ring, then," said the good-humoured shopman. "We will serve you extra well, to make up for your disappointment to-day."

Further than this, the young man told Adam that the pretty glittering things he admired so much were real diamonds, and explained something of their properties and uses, apart from their beauty. It interested him to see the rugged face light up with pleasure and astonishment, and to receive the hearty thanks which followed.

He could not join in the burst of laughter which the rest of the assistants indulged in when Adam was out of hearing, though he smiled at the simplicity of the man, while regretting his disappointment. He was pleased when Adam actually made his appearance a fortnight later, and he was able to fit the finger of the pretty smiling lass who accompanied him with the all-important ring. He even presented the bride elect with a little silver brooch in the shape of a bird, which was still one of Mrs. Livesey's treasured possessions, and of genuine metal, as its durability proved.

This old experience enabled Adam to understand the preacher's teaching better than he could have done without it, and he thought to himself, "If I took real stones for imitations, no wonder other folks sometimes take sham things and people for real good ones till they're taught better, or find 'em out."

Adam soon reached home, and as he entered, Sarah Evans rose from her seat to pour out his frugal supper of porridge, and to place it before him. She had been reading, for she put her book aside at his coming.

"The children are all in bed and asleep," she said. "They have been very good with me; better than I expected, though I am used to children. Yours are very ready to do as they are bid."

"They find it best for 'em," said Adam. Not many words, but they expressed a good deal.

"It's best for us all, isn't it, Mr. Livesey? Though it's sometimes hard work to do a thing just because it's right, specially when one's mind is hanging after something else."

Adam answered that he supposed it was, then relapsed into silence again, and attacked the plate of steaming porridge, though he afterwards bethought himself to ask if Sarah had kept any for her own supper.

"I had my bit before you came. I was getting some food of another sort when you came in, and I hardly noticed how time was going."

Adam looked round inquiringly, and the girl, seeing this, laid her hand on the Bible. "I didn't mean anything to eat. I was reading some words of Jesus. It cheers one so to have a verse or two to think about, when one's hands are busy and there's nobody to speak to. I shall be washing to-morrow, but all the day through I shall have these verses coming into my head, and helping me on."

"You might read them to me," said Adam, making his porridge last out, as an excuse for not moving.

Sarah complied with the request, and read—

"And Jesus said unto them, 'I am the bread of life: he that cometh to
Me shall never hunger; and he that believeth on Me shall never thirst.'

"'All that the Father giveth Me shall come to Me; and him that cometh
to Me I will in no wise cast out.'

"'And this is the Father's will which hath sent Me, that of all which He hath given Me I should lose nothing, but should raise it up again at the last day. And this is the will of him that sent Me, that every one that seeth the Son, and believeth on Him, may have everlasting life; and I will raise him up at the last day.'"

Sarah paused as Adam laid down his spoon, with the remark, "I reckon them words, 'shall never hunger,' don't mean that people won't want victuals, or that they'll always get 'em when they do want."

Sarah shook her head. "It doesn't mean that at all," she said. "I wish I could make it all plain, for I feel it, only I can't put it in right words, like the preachers do, or as Uncle Richard can. Only I know that I feel something wanting, besides food and clothes and the friends at home. When I've done wrong, I feel weighed down, as if I was carrying a load, and I go and ask God to forgive me, for Jesus sake, and then I get light and happy again; or I get down-hearted, thinking I've no father, and mother isn't strong; for there are ever so many young ones at our house. Then I bethink myself that I have a Father in heaven that loves me, and a Friend in Jesus that will never forsake me, and I'm cheered up again. There's something in us that hungers for better things than meat and drink, and I expect the verse I read means that we shall get all by going to Jesus."

"Do you believe that?" asked Adam earnestly.

"Yes, Mr. Livesey, I do. Haven't I just read His very own promise?

"'Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out.'

"And isn't it nice to-night, you know, when I think, 'Here I am brought all of a sudden into a fresh place and among strange people, to be able to kneel down and say, "Lord, help me to take care of these little children, and keep all right and straight till the missis comes back? Lord, help me to set them a good example, and to remember that Thou God seest me."' I want to be careful of the little 'uns, and the house and money, and keep things clean and comfortable. But if I didn't ask God to help me, I might feel that I should like to be running off here and there, and neglect things."

"You don't look like that sort."

"Perhaps not. But I'm no better than anybody else in these ways, without God's help. So I go, hungering like, for bread for my soul, to make me strong in what is right; and I'm always better for going, because He keeps His word. And isn't it a comfort for you, now Mrs. Livesey's had to go away for the first time, that you can ask Him to take care of her, and know that He sees her and baby all the while, same as He sees you and the other children at home?"

Adam did not answer, but he thought about the question. Surely it should be a comfort, though he had never counted it one, while feeling very lonely in Maggie's absence. He was beginning to find out that there were many privileges open to him, of which he had never dreamed before.

Without waiting for a reply, Sarah busied herself in clearing away the few articles, and this done, said, "Must I make the door, or will you."

Adam said he would "fasten up," and the young woman bade him "good night," and betook herself to the room occupied by little Maggie and the two youngest children, the elder boys sharing their father's. But the mind of the latter was too much occupied to allow of immediate sleep, so he stayed downstairs for a while to think things over.