Children's Edition of Touching Incidents and Remarkable Answers to Prayer Part 12

"Where's your father?"

"Hush! don't tell him! don't tell him! but look here!" He turned himself on his face and through the rags of his jacket and shirt my friend saw the boy's flesh was bruised and the skin broken.

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"Why, boy, who beat you like that?"

"Father did, sir."

"What did your father beat you like that for?"

"Father got drunk sir, and beat me 'cos I wouldn't steal."

"Did you ever steal?"

"Yes, sir, I was a street thief once."

"And why don't you steal any more?"

"Please, sir, I went to the mission school, and they told me there of G.o.d and of Heaven and of Jesus and they taught me, 'Thou shalt not steal,'

and I'll never steal again, if father kills me for it. But, please sir, don't tell him."

"My boy, you mast not stay here; you will die. Now you wait patiently here for a little time; I'm going away to see a lady. We will get a better place for you than this."

"Thank you sir, but please, sir, would you like to hear me sing a little hymn?"

Bruised, battered, forlorn; friendless, motherless; hiding away from an infuriated father he had a little hymn to sing.

"Yes, I will hear you sing your little hymn." He raised himself on his elbow and then sang:

"Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, Look upon a little child; Suffer me to come to Thee.

Fain would I to Thee be brought, Gracious Lord, forbid it not; In the Kingdom of Thy grace Give a little child a place."

"That's the little hymn, sir; Goodbye."

The gentleman went away, came back again in less than two hours and climbed the ladder. There were the chips and there was the little toy with one hand by his side and the other tucked in his bosom underneath the little ragged shirt--dead.

-John B. Gough.

SIX MONTHS' RECORD

Very tiny and pale the little girl looked as she stood before those three grave and dignified gentlemen. She had been ushered into Brother Gordon's study, where he was holding counsel with two of his deacons, and now, upon inquiry into the nature of her errand a little shyly she stated that she desired to be baptized.

"You are quite too young to be baptized," said one of the deacons, "you had better run home, and let us talk to your mother."

She showed no sign of running however, as her wistful blue eyes traveled from one face to another of the three gentlemen sitting in their comfortable chairs; she only drew a step nearer to Brother Gordon. He arose, and with gentle courtesy that ever marked him, placed her in a small chair close beside himself.

"Now, my child, tell me your name, and where you live."

"Winnie Lewis sir, and I live on ---- Street. I go to Sunday school."

"You do; and who is your teacher?"

"Miss ----. She is very good to me."

"And you want to be baptized."

The child's face glowed as she leaned eagerly toward him, clasping her hands, but all she said was, "Yes, sir."

"She cannot be more than six years old," said one of the deacons, disapp rovingly.

Brother Gordon said nothing, but quietly regarded the small, earnest face, now becoming a little downcast. "I am nine years old; older than I look," she said.

"It is unusual for anyone to be baptized so young," he said, thoughtfully, "We might pray for you though."

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The brother did not seem to hear as he asked, "You know what being baptized means, Winnie?"

"Yes sir"; and she answered a few questions that proved she comprehended the meaning of the step she wished to take. She had slipped off her chair, and now stood close to Brother Gordon's knee.

"I want to obey all of G.o.d's Word. You said last Sunday, sir, that the lambs should be in the fold."

"I did," he answered, with one of his own lovely smiles. "It is surely not for us to keep them out. Go home now, my child. I will see about it."

The cloud lifted from the child's face, and her expression, as she pa.s.sed through the door he opened for her, was one of entire peace.

The next week Winnie's desire was granted. Except for occasional information from Miss ---- that she was doing well, Brother Gordon heard no more of her for six months.

Then he was summoned to her funeral.

It was one of June's hottest days. As the minister made his way along the narrow street where Winnie had lived, he wished for a moment that he had asked his a.s.sistant to come in his place; but as he neared the house, the crowd filled him with wonder; progress was hindered, and as perforce he paused for a moment, his eye fell on a crippled lad crying bitterly as he sat on a low door-step.

"Did you know Winnie Lewis, my lad?" he asked.

"Know her, is it sir? Never a week pa.s.sed but what she came twice or thrice with a picture or book, mayhaps an apple for me, an' it's owing to her an' no clargy at all that I'll ever follow her blessed footsteps to heaven. She'd read me from her own Bible whenever she came, an' now she's gone there'll be none at all to help me, for mother's dead an'

dad's drunk, an' the sunshine's gone from Mike's sky intirely with Winnie, sir."

A burst of sobs choked the boy; Brother Gordon pa.s.sed on, after promising him a visit very soon, and made his way through the crowd of tear-stained, sorrowful faces. The Brother came to a stop on the narrow pa.s.sageway of the little house. A woman stood beside him drying her fast falling tears while a wee child hid his face in her skirts and wept.

"Was Winnie a relative of yours?" the brother asked.

"No, sir; but the blessed child was at our house constantly, and when Bob here was sick she nursed and tended him and her hymns quieted him when nothing else seemed to do it. It was just the same with all the neighbors. She took tracts to them all and has prayed with them ever since she was converted, which was three years ago, when she was but six years of age, sir. What she's been to us all no one but the Lord will ever know and now she lies there."

Recognized at last, Brother Gordon was led to the room where the child lay at rest, looking almost younger than when he had seen her in his study six months before. An old bent woman was crying aloud by the coffin.