Part 5

_Samuel._ Recollect, Fanny, that these things seem so insignificant to you, because they are less than you; and appear to be of no use to you. But look at the web which the spider is weaving upon that bush; examine carefully what this skilful artist is about; what skill, what regularity, and attention is shewn, in its net made from that slender thread. In the first place observe the three or four cords which support the whole; they are fastened to the branches, and are much stronger than the rest of the web; then notice these more slender threads which are fixed to the others and meet together in the centre: upon these threads, which remind us of the spokes of a wheel, the spider fixes finer threads in circles, which are smaller and smaller from the outside to the middle. Observe how this little insect has placed each circle at exactly the same distance from the others, and how these circles are tighter as they are nearer the centre. There, now it is finished. The spider has completed her beautiful work. Now she has taken her post in the middle of her web, her eight feet are placed upon its threads, and she watches for the slightest motion which is made by any insect that touches her web.--Now, my girl, can we suppose that God who made this insect, and gave her this surprising skill, will forget her, and leave her so that all her labour and pains will be useless! Surely not; let us wait a little and see. There, now, watch that little fly. Ah, he is caught. See, the spider is upon him in a moment; observe, she has entangled him in some threads, and now she has killed him, and is feeding upon him. She has food enough for to-day. God has provided for her.

_F._ Father, don’t you hear a little noise, as if somebody was filing or sawing very gently?

_S._ That is a little animal which God remembers as well as the spider. Don’t stir, and you will see him presently. There,--there he is.

_F._ What that pretty, very, very little mouse? Did he make that noise?

_S._ Yes, look here, I will shew you what it was. See under this leaf two pieces of nut shell. The little field mouse held this nut in his two fore paws, and with his long sharp teeth gnawed, or, as it were, filed away the shell; he then ate away the kernel and is now gone to look for something else.

_F._ Oh, father, how kind all this is. How well it is planned. Then there is food for every little animal and insect. How great and how good God must be, who orders all things!

By conversations like this, Samuel instructed his children. He took every opportunity to draw their attention towards the eternal God, who, although he does not converse with men upon earth, as before the fall, yet shews his presence by many striking instances of love and mercy.

As Samuel and his daughter continued their walk, they came to the skirt of a wood, where they found a young woman sitting by the side of a spring, with an infant in her arms. The poor little child was crying very bitterly, its mother wept also, and appeared quite overcome with grief.

_S._ Poor child, how sadly you are crying. My good woman, be more calm; tell me what is the matter?

_The Mother._ O, Sir, my child is dying; my child, my dear child.

_S._ No, I do not think so; it is in great pain, but it does not seem likely to die; God has sent this trouble, and he can remove it. Trust in him; take courage and exert yourself, and all will be well. Tell me what is to be done.

_M._ Ah, Sir, you do not know what has happened. The birds yonder have food for their young, but my little one is dying with hunger--with hunger! I have no milk for it, and have walked all day across the mountains without meeting any help. Oh, my boy, my dear boy, don’t cry so sadly. If you did but know how unhappy it makes your mother.--

Samuel was silent, and deeply grieved. “My God,” said he, “be pleased to hear the cries of this poor creature, and shew us what we should do.”

Fanny said to her father, “Our neighbour Nanny weaned little Charles yesterday, I am sure she would be glad to take this little child.”

_S._ That is a good thought, my dear; I trust God has reminded you of it. Let us make haste homewards; this poor woman and her child need our help much more than the person we were going to see. Come, my good woman, take courage; try and follow us, and your child will soon be comforted. Fanny, let us go the path-way by the willows, that is the nearest.

As Fanny walked along, she thought about the woman and her child, and felt in some doubt and difficulty. “How is it,” said she to herself; “how is it that God, who is so great, so powerful, and so good, should provide for the spider and the little mouse, but should neglect that little child, so weak and so helpless as not to be able even to ask for what it wants, and should let it be in such a state that it must very soon die! Why did God take away its mother’s milk? It is very strange!” These last words she said aloud.

_S._ What is so very strange?

Fanny hesitated, and was afraid to tell what had passed in her mind, lest it should be displeasing to God. So she said, “It was something, father, which I do not quite understand; but I will think again about it.”

_S._ You had better tell me, Fanny; do not be afraid of letting me know what it was. Were you thinking about that little child, and wondering why God appeared to have forgotten it, while He takes care of mice and spiders?

_F._ (_colouring_.) I was afraid to say so; but I could not help wondering at it. But I did not think that God was unjust, only I did not understand his ways.

_S._ There is Nanny coming this way; we will talk again about this subject by and by. Run to her, for you can run faster than I.

Fanny ran like a deer, and told their neighbour all that had happened. Nanny hastened to Samuel, rejoicing that she could be of use. “This is, indeed, providential,” said she; “give me the child, I will treat it as if it was my own. Thank God, my good woman,” said she to the mother: “he who made your child has directed it here; see, it is as well pleased with my milk as if it were your own.”

Rebecca who was the mother of the child, fell upon her knees and clasped her hands together. She wept, but her tears were not tears of bitterness or grief; she was struck with a sense of the unexpected succour she had so providentially received, and she felt pained that she had for a moment doubted the faithfulness of the Lord.

“My friend,” said Samuel, kindly raising her up, “you see that He, who feeds even the young ravens, has not forgotten your child.”

“I have sinned,” replied the mother; “I feel that I have sinned; may God pardon my evil complaints. But it is a long day for a mother. Yes it is a very long day, when every moment is marked by a cry of pain from her child! I looked to heaven, but saw not the Lord; I was like Hagar in the desert, (Gen. xxi. 15.) and forgot him.”

_S._ The Lord directed you to find succour, and has many other blessings in store for you, of which you are not now aware.

Fanny was struck with the words of the young mother. She came to her father, and whispered to him, “I also forgot the Lord; will he forgive me?”

Samuel kissed his daughter. “My child,” said he, “remember, that although our Lord sees our faults and evil deeds, he is ready to pardon those who seek forgiveness through Christ. He has said. ‘Ask, and ye shall receive;’ and him that cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out. Turn to him with your whole heart, he is full of mercy, and his compassions fail not.”

While thus conversing, they arrived at Nanny’s cottage. The little child had fallen asleep in the nurse’s arms, and she put it safely into the cradle of her own child, who was gone to a friend to be weaned.

She then prepared some food for the poor mother, who was quite exhausted with anxiety and fatigue. While thus employed, she repeated, “The Lord is good to all, and his tender mercies are over all his works. The Lord upholdeth all that fall, and raiseth up all those that be bowed down. The eyes of all wait upon thee, and thou givest them their meat in due season. The Lord is righteous in all his ways, and holy in all his works. The Lord is nigh unto all them that call upon him, to all that call upon him in truth. He will fulfil the desires of them that fear him; he also will hear their cry, and will save them. The Lord preserveth all them that love him, but all the wicked will he destroy.”

_S._ Yes, neighbour, let us praise the providence of God who has been pleased to send you another infant, for a short period deprived of its mother, instead of your own.

_N._ Oh, Samuel, when you learn the whole of this instance of providence, you will indeed adore him with wonder: I will tell you presently, when this good woman has taken something to eat, and has laid down to rest herself. My husband is away for three or four days, so she may stay here till he returns, and, if God pleases, we shall be able to think what had best be done for her.

The mother appeared very thoughtful, and took no notice of what was said. Her hunger was soon satisfied; she then arose, and taking Samuel by the hand, said, “God will bless you; for he has this day shewn, by your means, that he will not break the bruised reed, nor quench the burning flax. I am a bruised reed, but I now feel strengthened; and as to the flax, oil has been poured upon it, and the flame again shines forth.--This is from God.”

Samuel sent his daughter home, and then being left alone with Nanny, he said, “What is this peculiar instance of God’s providence which you have discovered in the misfortunes and succour of that poor woman?”

_N._ I will tell you. Last week, my friend who has taken little Charles to wean, and who lives about twelve miles beyond the mountains, came to see me: among other inquiries, I asked respecting the state of her family as to religion. She shook her head, and unwillingly told me that she suffered a good deal of trouble from her brother-in-law, a profane and irreligious character, who has lately returned home from a foreign country, where he had acquired many bad habits, and among other things had learned to scoff at religion. ‘But what grieves me most of all,’ added she, ‘is his ill treatment to his poor wife, an excellent young woman, whom he married in a foreign country, and who has a child only a few months old.’

_S._ What is she the woman we found?

_N._ I have no doubt of it, and for this reason: my friend told me that this cruel hard-hearted man more than once threatened to kill her and her child, if she continued to read her Bible, and attend a prayer-meeting which is held in their village.

_S._ Do you suppose that she is acquainted with the truth as it is in Jesus, and that her heart is really devoted to the Lord?

_N._ I understood she was a serious character and I now recollect that she was the daughter of a schoolmaster, a good man, who brought up his children in the fear of the Lord and the knowledge of the Saviour. You heard her refer to a passage in the Bible?

_S._ Yes; I noticed it.

_N._ My friend told me she often conversed with her sister-in-law upon serious subjects, and had no doubt God had blessed her soul.

_S._ But how came you so soon to think it was her?

_N._ When my friend spoke of her troubles, I felt deeply affected for her unpleasant situation, and I have since then frequently wished that I could be of use to her. This evening I sadly missed my little Charles, and I took a walk to divert my thoughts. She came again into my mind, and I could not help thinking of the painful situation of a serious young woman, far from her home and her relations, and married to a wicked man who treats her with the greatest unkindness.

_S._ It must indeed be a painful situation, and how deplorable such a union.

_N._ While I was thinking about her, I saw you by the willows with a young woman in a foreign dress, and an infant in her arms, it at once struck me that she must be the poor woman of whom I was thinking, for my friend, among other things, spoke of the dress she usually wore; and as we were walking along, I heard her say to herself, ‘If I stop here, will not he find me?’ I then felt sure that I was right in my conjecture.

_S._ Poor thing! it is _that_ makes her so thoughtful. I recollect when I spoke to her, she said she had been all day travelling among the mountains.

_N._ I am sure it is her, and I hope the Lord has brought her here for some good.

_S._ O, the depth of the riches, both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out! I will tell my wife what has happened, and we will come in the morning and see what can be done for the young woman. Good night; may the peace of God be with you!

In the morning Samuel and his wife came to Nanny’s cottage, and found her sitting before the door with the stranger, and suckling her child.

_N._ It is, as I supposed, it is Rebecca, my friend’s sister-in-law. Samuel’s wife spoke kindly to the young woman, and after a short conversation led her aside.

_S._ My wife is going to speak seriously to her. We do not think she has acted quite as the word of God directs.

_N._ Neighbour Samuel, remember the bad character and ill behaviour of her husband.

_S._ Do you not recollect I told you the other day that the faults of others did not excuse us for neglecting our own duty.

_N._ But would you have this woman and her child exposed to such barbarous treatment?

_S._ If she had continued enduring these things for the sake of God, and because he has said, “If when ye do well and suffer for it, ye take it patiently; this is acceptable with God,” 1 Pet. ii. 20. can you for a moment suppose that he would not have sustained her under her trials? Remember the words of St. Paul, “The woman that hath a husband which believeth not, and if he be pleased to live with her, _let her not leave him_.” 1 Cor. vii. 13.

Nanny felt convinced that Samuel was right.

His wife returned with Rebecca, whose eyes were full of tears.

_S._ My good Rebecca, I hope you feel that we desire to act as your parents, and only wish to speak for your good.

_R._ Yes, I feel it, my good friends; you have spoken to me from the Lord, and I needed your advice. I have done wrong, I have sinned against God by my impatience, He chastened me yesterday, but he did it as a tender father, and in mercy has, I trust, turned the evil I planned into good.

_S’s wife._ I do hope that what has passed will prove an occasion of good, both to you and your husband.

Rebecca shook her head, and sighed as she looked at her child.

_S._ Do not limit the power of God. Have more faith; cast all your care upon him, for he careth for you. I intend to go to your husband to-day, and I hope my visit will not be without effect.

In the course of the day Samuel set out. He was absent three days, during which time his wife conversed a good deal with Rebecca; they also read the Bible, and prayed together. The young wife was deeply affected, and said, that as soon as Samuel returned she would ask him to take her home to her husband; adding, “I will endeavour to win him by my conduct, as the apostle directs, and how do I know but I may be the means of saving my husband.” 1 Cor. vii. 16. 1 Pet. iii. 1.

In the afternoon of the third day, while they were conversing upon the duties of a Christian, as a wife and a mother, they heard some one coming. “Here he is,” said Rebecca, running to the door; “here is good Samuel.”

_S._ Yes, Rebecca, and I have brought somebody with me; I am not alone, but am accompanied by a man, who I trust will in future endeavour to walk according to the will of Him who has protected you. Here, Dennis, (said he, raising his voice,) come in; Rebecca is waiting for you.

Dennis was her husband. He ran in, saying, “O, my dear Rebecca, forgive your unkind husband; I have prayed to God to pardon me. O forgive me for all the injury I have done to you and our child.”

Rebecca was deeply affected, and unable to speak for some time. At length she said, “The Lord is good. Dennis, I was coming home to ask your pardon, for while sinning against the Lord, I have sinned against you also; I forgot that I was bound to obey you, and that I ought to have waited patiently, praying that the Lord would turn your heart.”

_D._ I trust I shall now be an altered man; God sent this good man to me, and I feel convinced of my sin. We have both of us much reason to be thankful; these are the wonderful dealings of his providence.

Fanny just then came to call her mother, and heard what Rebecca and her husband said about the providence of God. She remembered what she thought a few evenings before, and what she had said to her father. She watched for an opportunity of speaking to him, and said, “Father, you have not yet spoken to me about what I said the other evening; but I have thought about it a great deal, and I now clearly see that God had not forgotten the little baby and his mother, any more than the field mouse or the spider.”

_S._ You perceive these things, my girl, but as yet you know very little of what the Saviour has done. Consider further, that it was Rebecca’s grief, when she saw the suffering of her child, that made you think of Nanny, and it was from her I learned Rebecca’s hardships, and the evil conduct of her husband. That God, who is all powerful, all wise, and full of goodness, whose providence orders even the smallest events, I trust has been pleased to direct that these occurrences should lead me to be the means of directing Dennis to his Saviour, and of reconciling him to his wife and child. Thus you now see that God has shewed his kindness to Rebecca, to her child, and to her husband, much more than to the spiders and animals of the field. He gives them their food in due season; but for his children he has provided a better gift, even “the gift of eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord!” My girl, the providence of God is indeed wonderful, and his ways past finding out.

Fanny perceived the truth of what her father said. She felt in her heart that the ways of the Lord are above our ways, and his thoughts above our thoughts, and she determined in his strength never more to doubt the power, nor the tender mercies, of Him who does all things for the good of his children.

LUCY;

OR,

“_I will not be Naughty again, Papa_.”

One day, Lucy’s father was obliged to find fault with her for something she had done wrong. “I will not be naughty again, papa,” said she; “I promise you, I will not be so foolish again.”

I am sorry to say, that Lucy had been a very naughty girl; she was not so in general, but somehow she often forgot herself. Her most frequent fault was pride, for she thought herself much wiser, and much more clever than she really was, and this led her sometimes to disobey her parents and teachers, and to answer rather pertly. Lucy’s mother was dead, but her aunt took care of her father’s family. She was an excellent woman, and was very kind to Lucy, and tried always to teach her what was right. One morning she said, “Lucy, my dear, bring your work; leave off playing with the cat, the clock has just struck ten.”

Lucy was so silly as not to mind what her aunt said, and disobeyed; first in actions, and then in words; for she continued to play with her cat, and spoke in a cross manner, “You are always telling me, ‘Come, bring your work;’ you never let me play a minute.” “Lucy,” said her aunt, “you forget what you ought to do, and that God hears you. Is it not your duty to mind what I say?” Lucy put down the cat, and walked very slowly across the room to fetch her work; and, as soon as she was seated, muttered to herself, “How tiresome it is to be obliged always to do as one is bid.”

In the evening, her father asked whether Lucy had been a good girl, and was very sorry to hear what had happened; presently it was time for family prayer, he rang the bell, and the children and servants all came in.

Lucy did not know that her father was acquainted with what had happened, and I regret to add, that she had not shewn any sorrow at having been so naughty.

Her father opened the Bible, and read the sixth chapter of St. Paul’s Epistle to the Ephesians. If you look at your Testament, you will find it begins thus, “_Children, obey your Parents in the Lord: for this is right._”

When he had finished the chapter, he said a few words about what he had read, and observed that God desired to see a teachable spirit in children; and that they should do as the hymn reminded them,

“Whenever I’m saying my prayer, I’ll ask for a teachable heart.”

He also spoke of the sinfulness of pride and self-conceit, which led to disobedience to the will of the Lord.

“Children often suppose,” said he, “that they need not mind what they are told, unless they please; and then they sometimes murmur against those whom they ought to obey. A child who acts thus, in reality disobeys God, and refuses to take up the yoke of Christ. This is very plain, for if our Lord was to appear as he did when upon earth, and should enter the room while little boys or girls acted in this manner, I am sure they would hide their faces before the blessed Son of God. It would be quite clear, then, that they were doing wrong, and that they had forgotten that God sees them, although they do not see Him, and that he is not pleased with their conduct.

“Children should also remember that they are to obey their teachers, and those who are set over them, just the same as their parents; for as God gave this power to their parents, and they have placed them with their teachers, so children are to obey their teachers just the same as their parents.

“It is then necessary,” added he, speaking slowly and in an impressive manner, “that all children should be convinced that it is their duty to be obedient to all who are set over them. They must also remember, that in refusing to do what they are told, they disobey the commands of God.”

The family then knelt down, and the father prayed, that all who were then present, and especially the children, might humbly submit to the will of God, as set forth in his holy word.

Lucy’s conscience told her, that her father had said this on her account; when she rose from her knees, she felt very unhappy, and was afraid to go and kiss him as usual.

I hardly need remark, that when she felt that she had done wrong, she ought to have humbled herself and asked pardon of God, and then intreated her aunt to forgive her. But her pride would not let her do so, and she did not try to subdue it. Pride not only leads people to do wrong, but also causes them to persist in evil.

It was bed-time, and Lucy went to bed in this stubborn humour; I need not say she was very unhappy. She did not venture to repeat her prayer, and that is a _very_ bad sign indeed; for when children dare not pray to God, it is a proof that their consciences tell them they have done wrong, and that they do not feel really sorry for what they have done.

The next morning, when Lucy awoke, she felt still more unhappy, and did not like the thought of meeting her father and her aunt. But ought not she to have been more unhappy because God saw her? Is it not strange that a naughty child is afraid of being seen by a father, or a mother, or a teacher, but does not fear being seen by God? for “the eyes of the Lord are in every place, beholding the evil and the good.” It is very easy for a child to _say_ this, but how few there are who shew by their actions that they _believe_ it.