FOR CHILDREN

Some time ago, there was a pious widow living in the northern part of England, on whom, in consequence of the loss she had sustained, devolved the sole care of a numerous family, consisting of seven daughters and one son. It was her chief anxiety to train up her children in those virtuous and religious habits, which promote the present happiness and the immortal welfare of man. Her efforts were rewarded, so far as the female branches of her family were concerned. But, alas! her boy proved ungrateful for her care and became her scourge and her cross. He loved worldly company and pleasure; till, having impoverished his circumstances, it became necessary that he should go to sea. When his mother took her leave of him, she gave him a New Testament, inscribed with his name and her own, solemnly and tenderly entreating that he would keep the book, and read it for her sake.

He was borne far away upon the bosom of the trackless deep, and year after year elapsed without tidings of her boy. She occasionally visited parts of the island remote from her own residence, and particularly the metropolis; and, into whatever company she came, she made it a point to inquire for the ship in which her son sailed, if possibly she might hear any tidings of the beloved object who was always in her thoughts.

On one occasion, she met in London, a sea captain of whom she made her accustomed inquiries. He informed her that he knew the vessel, and that she had been wrecked;; that he also knew a youth of the name of Charles; and added, perhaps with too little reserve and caution, that he was so depraved and profligate a lad, that it were a good thing if he, and all like him. were at the bottom of the sea. Pierced to her inmost soul, the unhappy mother withdrew from the house, as soon as she could sufficiently compose her agitated feelings, and resolved in future upon a strict retirement in which she might at once indulge and hide her hopeless grief. “I shall go down to the grave,” was her language, “mourning for my son.” She made her residence at one of the seaports on the northern coast.

After the lapse of some years, a half-naked sailor knocked at her door to ask relief. The sight of a sailor was always interesting to her. and never failed to awaken recollections better imagined than described. She heard his tale. He had seen great perils in the deep, had been several times wrecked, but said he had never been so dreadfully destitute as some years back, when he and “a fine young gentlemen were the only individuals of a whole ship’s crew that were saved. We were cast upon a desert island, where, after seven days and nights, I closed his eyes. Poor fellow, I never shall forget it.” And here the tears streamed down his weather-beaten face. “He read day and night in a little book, which, he said, his mother gave him, and which was the only thing he saved. It was his companion every moment:; he wept for his sins, he prayed, he kissed the book; he talked of nothing but this book and his mother; and at the last he gave it to me, with many thanks for my poor services. ‘There, Jack.’ said he, ‘take this book, and keep it, and read it, and may God bless you — it’s all I’ve got.’ And then he clasped my hand and died in peace.”

“Is all this true?” said the trembling, astonished mother.

“Yes, madam, every word of it.” And then, dragging from his ragged jacket a little book, much battered and time-worn, he held it up exclaiming, “And here’s the very book, too.” She seized a Testament, recognized her own handwriting, and saw the name of her son, coupled with her own on the cover. She gazed, she read, she wept, she rejoiced. She seemed to hear a voice which said, “Behold thy son liveth.” Amidst her conflicting emotions she was ready to exclaim, “Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation.”

“Will you part with that book, my honest fellow?” said the mother, anxious now to possess the precious relic.

“No, madam,” was the answer, “not for any money — not for all the world. He gave it to me with his dying hand. I have more than once lost my all since I got it, without losing this treasure, the value of which, I hope, I have learned for myself; and I will never part with it till I part with the breath out of my body.”

Deze tekst is geautomatiseerd gemaakt en kan nog fouten bevatten. Digibron werkt voortdurend aan correctie. Klik voor het origineel door naar de pdf. Voor opmerkingen, vragen, informatie: contact.

Op Digibron -en alle daarin opgenomen content- is het databankrecht van toepassing. Gebruiksvoorwaarden. Data protection law applies to Digibron and the content of this database. Terms of use.

Printen