“i saw then that they went on their way to a pleasant river, which david the king called ‘the river of god,’ but john ‘the river of the water of life.’”—pilgrim’s progress.
in various manners was the succeeding day passed by the different members of mr. hope’s household. he himself was absent till dinner-time, busy in holding consultations with parliamentary friends. why should he remember that on that day a saviour was born into the world? he never considered that he needed one! lady fitzwigram called in her carriage for mrs. hope, to drive her to a distant church to hear some very famous preacher. arrayed in all the pomp of vanity fair, her mind full of the world, its follies, its ambition, the lady departed to kneel in the house of god, and call herself a miserable sinner! clementina would have accompanied her mother, but for the disfigurement of her face. till the bruise had disappeared, and the cut become healed, she could not endure to let herself be seen. so she shut herself up in
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the drawing-room, with her feet on the fender, listening sadly to the cheerful chime of “the church-going bell,” which brought no thought of joy to her heart.
ernest came into the room, christmas sunshine on his face. he had not seen his cousin that morning until now.
“a happy christmas to you, clemmy, and a joyful new-year.”
no look of pleasure on her part responded to the greeting; but she gave the usual answer—“i wish the same to you.”
“thank you. a happy christmas! i have it. the new year!—ah! how strange it is to think all that a new year may bring!”
“the new year can bring to you nothing so good as the old one has done,” said clementina.
“this year has brought much to me indeed,” replied ernest, thoughtfully. “the bible—my first knowledge of mr. ewart—my brother.”
“oh, your estate, your title!” exclaimed clementina. “the new year can raise you no higher.”
“only in one way, perhaps.”
“and what is that way?”
ernest did not hear the question of the young lady; his thoughts had wandered to the white marble monument in the church near fontonore. when we stand on the verge of a new year, and look on the curtain which hides from us the mysterious future, what reflecting
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mind but considers the possibility that the opening year may to him be the last? to the christian pilgrim alone that thought brings no feeling of gloom.
“are you going to church with us, cousin?” said ernest, rousing himself from his meditations.
“you had only to look at me to answer your own question,” replied the young lady, pettishly. “what could take me to church, with my forehead plastered up and such a yellow mark under my eye?”
ernest could not help thinking that if she went to church to worship god, and not to be seen of man, there was nothing to keep her away now. but to have expressed his thoughts aloud would have been only to irritate; and the christian who would lead another to the lord must be cautious to avoid giving unnecessary offence. there is a time when it is our duty to speak, and a time when it is our wisdom to be silent.
ernest left the room, and in a few minutes returned with his own copy of the pilgrim’s progress in his hand. he made no observation, but he laid it near his cousin, and then quitted the house with a secret prayer that the poor girl, to whom religion was as yet but a name, might be led to read, and be guided to understand it.
as the brothers returned from church arm in arm, ernest felt more than usual joy and peace shed over his spirit: while all was winter without, all was summer within. it was one of those hours which christians sometimes
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meet with in their pilgrimage, perhaps as a foretaste of the bliss that awaits them, when their path appears so bright, and heaven so near, that they feel as though earth’s mists were already left behind, and can scarcely believe that they can ever wander again from the way which they find so delightful. they could then lay down their lives with pleasure for their lord. life is happiness to them, for in it they may serve him; and death no object of terror or doubt, for they know that it can but bring them to him. bless the lord, o my soul; while i live will i praise him, is in the thoughts, and not unfrequently on the lips also: for out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh, and the heavenly joy which fills all the spirit will sometimes overflow in words.
“o charley, how joyous the angels’ song sounded to-day! ‘glory to god in the highest; on earth peace, good-will toward men.’ what wonder and delight must have filled the hearts of the shepherds when first they listened to that song!”
“and the angels, it must have made even angels happier to have carried such a message to the world.”
“i have sometimes thought,” said ernest, “that if an angel from heaven were to live upon this earth, and to be permitted to choose what station he would fill, he would ask,—not to be a conqueror, not to be a king, not even to be one of the geniuses whose discoveries astonish
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the world, but to be one who might constantly be proclaiming to all the good tidings of a saviour’s coming, repeating continually that song of heaven, ‘glory to god, good-will toward men!’”
“he would be a clergyman, or a missionary, then.”
“that is what i should most of all wish to be,” said ernest, “if i only could be worthy of such an honour.”
“why, you are a lord.”
“were i a prince, what nobler office could i have than to follow in the steps of the apostles and the martyrs—nay, the steps of the saviour himself? to sow seeds that would blossom in eternity! to be a shepherd over the lord’s dear flock! oh, charles, can we ever realize the full extent of that promise, they that turn many to righteousness, shall shine as the stars for ever and ever!”
“i feel afraid to be a clergyman,” said charles, gravely. “my uncle spoke to me about it yesterday: he said that the church might be the best opening for me in life, and that it was time for me to think of a profession. but, ernest, there was something that went against my feelings in thinking of it in that light.”
“i am sure that you were right, my brother. how could one dare to become the minister of god from any other motive than the desire to serve him, and proclaim his message to dying sinners around us?”
“i was afraid that you would blame me. i thought
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that you would urge me to devote myself to the service of the ministry.”
“not unless your service were that of the heart; then indeed i should rejoice at your choice. but what are your own wishes for yourself?”
“i have always had rather a fancy for being a soldier. the danger and excitement of the life attracts me. i should like to be just such a warrior as great-heart, who fought and conquered giant despair.”
“i thought,” observed ernest, smiling, “that great-heart was intended to represent a minister, and not a soldier.”
“do you really think so?” said charles.
“only consider his office, and the nature of his exploits. was he not sent to guide feeble pilgrims, and lead them to the heavenly city? did not his words cheer and help them on the way? did he not show them the spring at which they drank and were refreshed, and fight the giant maul, who led young pilgrims into error? remember his own account of himself, when he said, ‘i am a servant of the god of heaven: my business is to persuade sinners to repentance.’ surely this is a description of a minister of the gospel.”
“it never struck me so before.”
“if you love difficulties,” continued ernest, “who has greater to overcome than a conscientious clergyman? he has the world to oppose him, satan to oppose him,
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his own sinful nature, like a traitor within the gates. he is appointed a commander in the army of the lord.”
“and a missionary is the leader of a forlorn hope,” interrupted charles.
“not forlorn,” exclaimed ernest; “his hope is sure: if faithful, he is certain of both victory and life.”
“i believe, after all,” said charles, “that a clergyman’s is the noblest, as well as the most anxious of professions. but even did i wish it to be mine, the question remains—could i ever be worthy of it?”
“ah, that is my difficulty too,” cried ernest; “and yet,” he added hopefully, “i cannot but think that he who first gave us a love for the work, would also give us strength to perform it.”
by this time the brothers had reached home. ernest found the drawing-room empty. a novel lay on the table near which clementina had been sitting, but the pilgrim’s progress had evidently been moved from the place where her cousin had left it. he remained, like many others who try to do good, in uncertainty as to whether his endeavours had been fruitless; but with the sweet assurance that whether successful or not, the smallest attempt to serve others, for the sake of the lord, would never be forgotten by him.
in another week the family returned to fontonore, whither mr. hope had preceded them by a few days in order to carry on his canvass. if the castle was beautiful
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at the end of autumn, when ernest first saw his birth-place, not less striking was its appearance now. the red globe of the winter’s sun seemed to rest upon the battlements, gleaming faintly on the arched windows crusted with hoar frost. every twig on the creepers that mantled the walls, every leaf on the evergreens that adorned the entrance, was covered with white glistening crystals, like the work of a fairy enchantress.
on the bridge on which mr. ewart had stood to see the boys depart, he again appeared to welcome them back; and nothing gave so much pleasure to their hearts as his warm, affectionate greeting.
ernest found everything much as he had left it. ben appeared, indeed, to have somewhat improved under the careful instruction which he had received; but jack was the same forward, reckless boy, dead to every feeling of gratitude or shame. he was noted in the castle for mischief-making; his word was never to be depended upon; he seemed to have inherited his father’s love for gambling; but perhaps the most painful feature in his character was his undisguised dislike of his young benefactor.
“i should almost recommend,” said mr. ewart, when speaking on the subject to his pupil, “that some other situation should be found for this unhappy boy, where he might be under severer control, and less in a position to give annoyance.”
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“it would certainly be a great relief to me,” replied ernest.
“he might be apprenticed to some trade.”
“that would cause some expense,” observed ernest.
“true, but your uncle—”
“oh, i never would trouble my uncle upon the subject. my own quarter’s allowance is now due, but i have spent it already in my mind. you know my little project for a school here: both jack and ben would attend that every day. oh, we must give him a little longer trial; i cannot afford any changes at present without sacrificing things more important.”
“but the irritation to yourself,” exclaimed charles, who was present; “the constant annoyance and worry caused by such a creature as that!”
“these are the little vexations that are sent to try our patience and forbearance,” replied ernest. “if we seek to bear them with a pilgrim’s spirit, perhaps we may discover in another world that we have owed more to our enemies than to our friends.”
