Chapter VI: The Teacher's Warning

THE bell for study to cease, rang a full hour earlier than usual. Mr. Monks requested the school to give him their attention, in a voice so very sad as to awaken the liveliest sympathy.

He opened the large Bible, and turning to the thirteenth chapter of First Corinthians, read to them Paul's exhortation to Charity.

When he came to the words:

"Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not, charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up," he stopped, and after a moment of painful hesitation said:

"I wish every one of you would ask, 'Have I such charity toward my school-mate as this? Have I suffered long? Have I been really anxious to believe the best? Have my thoughts of him been kind, forbearing, and gentle; or have I been easily provoked, ready to believe the worst? Have I, out of envy of his rich gifts, been pleased with the idea of his falling into temptation? Have I vaunted myself, thinking I could never have so disgraced my character? Have I been puffed up with a belief of my own goodness?"

"Paul here says: 'Charity never faileth.' Has my charity failed? Have I thought and hoped for the best, or the worst, of him whom I have called friend? If it has failed, remember, unless you speedily repent, even though you bestow all your goods to feed the poor, or give your body to be burned, it will avail you nothing, in the solemn day when you will be judged according to your deeds."

He stopped a moment, and covered his eyes with his hand. Presently in a broken voice he went on:

"I am going to give you an account of a few months in my early life. You will condemn me, but not half as much as I do myself. If the recital will teach you to be more forbearing, to think no evil of your neighbors, to hope for the best, to rejoice not in iniquity, but to rejoice in good, then I shall be willing to endure the pain."

"I once had a brother. He was all that a brother could be: noble, brave, generous, loving, faithful; aye, even till death. We loved each other as few boys love; and when I, who was the oldest by eleven months, entered a store as book-keeper, I was not happy until he joined me in learning to be a merchant. I was called grave; and he was mirthful. I heard my employers praise him. I saw them watch his active, pleased endeavors to be useful, and the serpent of suspicion began to steal into my breast. At last one of the clerks left, and Arthur was promoted to a position higher than my own. At least, I thought so at the time."

"Then came all the workings of an uncharitable heart. I was unkind to my brother; I envied him his power of gaining the good will of others; I vaunted myself on my own talents; I said I was older and better fitted than he; I puffed myself up in my own goodness; I was easily provoked; I thought the worst of him; I did not hope for the best."

"When conscience suggested that I was putting a false construction on everything he did, I rejoiced in what I thought his iniquity, because it gave me an excuse for treating him cruelly."

"I knew my conduct grieved him, wounded him to the heart; that he could scarcely believe his ears when I returned a harsh word to his loving caress. I saw his eye fixed mournfully upon me many times; but I would not yield; I believed he was trying to supplant me, to gain a place as partner in the firm; and though he often talked as of old, about the time when we would establish ourselves together, I believed it was all to blind me to his villany."

"At last, I was so given up to envy, jealousy, bitterness and all the scorpions to which uncharitableness leads, that I requested my mother to allow me a separate room for myself. Before this, we had always slept together."

"She then for the first time remonstrated against my unkindness. She said it cut her heart in two. She urged me to explain the change in my manner; but I refused. Even then I knew my suspicions would not bear examining. She turned from me with a look more of sorrow than of anger."

"One night, on leaving the store, I found Arthur had gone before me. On reaching home, our family physician was there. My brother was ill in bed. He had been earnestly calling my name; mother urged me to go to his room at once, but not until I had leisurely eaten my supper, did I go to his side."

"Even then I coolly expressed my regret at finding him ill, and then excused myself, saying I was going to an evening lecture."