Louis' School Days Part 22

"The Grange, Reginald," cried the second.

"And Bessie Gordon in the garden,--she sees us," cried Reginald, who had changed sides for a second. "Ann White's cottage, Louis--I saw the old picture of Lazarus large as ever--and the sheep--and I smell hay.

Look, there's a hay-field, and Johnson with the hay-makers! Hillo, Johnson! He sees me."

"The bells, papa! The bells, mamma!" exclaimed Louis--"Oh, it's home, dear, sweet home! The bells are ringing because you are come home, papa; and look, there are all the people coming out of the cottages--how glad they seem to be!"

"Louis, Louis, here we go!" shouted Reginald, as the carriage swept down a lane arched over with green boughs.

Presently they came to the lodge gate; but not a moment had they to wait; it was wide open, and they could scarcely exchange marks of recognition with the gatekeeper and family, when they were out of sight in the long winding carriage road that led through the park.

"Welcome, welcome--home! The dear, dear old Priory," said Louis, with increasing enthusiasm.

"Take care you are not out on the gra.s.s, Louis," said his mother, seizing his arm.

"Here we are!" cried Reginald. "And there's Mary, the little p.u.s.s.y, and sober Neville, looking out of his wits, for a wonder. Here we are!"

CHAPTER XII.

"Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might."--Eccles. ix. 10.

"Watch and pray."--Matt. xxvi. 41.

"The weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty through G.o.d to the pulling down of strongholds; casting down imaginations, and every high thing that exalteth itself against the _knowledge_ of G.o.d."--2 Cor. x. 4, 5.

"Ah! Louis, _this_ is home," exclaimed Reginald, as, after the embraces in the hall, they entered the pleasant drawing-room. It _was_ home, home with all its sweet a.s.sociations and dear beings; and, in a few minutes, Reginald and Louis had run all over the house for the pleasure of seeing "the dear old places;" had shaken hands with the old servants, given nurse a kiss, and, having finished by wakening Freddy from his first sleep, returned to the drawing-room, where tea was ready.

It was a very pleasant tea that night. Every one had so much to say, and there was so much innocent mirth--all agreed it was worth while going away from home, for the pleasure of returning. Gradually the broad yellow light faded from the wall, table, carpet, and window; and, the gray twilight usurping its place, little Mary was obliged to leave her seat on her father's knee, and with many kisses was marshalled up stairs by nurse and Neville.

When Neville returned, the happy party sat round the open window watching the bright stars in their trembling beauty, and the half-moon rise over the dark trees, whitening their tops, silvering the water, and casting the deep shadows into deeper darkness. There was something in the still beauty that hushed the speakers, and at last only a low remark was now and then made, until Louis asked his mother to walk out into the garden. Mrs. Mortimer at first pleaded the heavy dews as an excuse, but the request was so urgently pressed by Reginald and Neville, and a large shawl and pair of clogs being procured, they sallied forth, Neville and his father first, then Reginald and Miss Spencer, and lastly, to his great satisfaction, Louis and his mother.

"I am so fond of moonlight, mamma," said Louis.

"I think most people are," replied his mother.

"I wonder what is the reason that moonlight is so much sweeter than sunlight," said Louis.

"Do you like it better?" said his mother.

"I don't know that I like it _better_," replied Louis; "but it always seems so quiet and soothing. I always liked moonlight when I was a very little boy--but I thought very differently about it then."

"How so?" asked his mother.

"Oh! mamma, I thought it was very beautiful, and I felt a strange sort of feeling come into my mind--a sort of sad happiness: and sometimes I thought of fairies dancing in the moonlight; and when I grew older, I used to think a great deal of nonsense, or try to make poetry, and I called the moon 'Diana,' and 'queen of night'--and imagined a great deal that I hardly like to tell you, about lovers walking in moonlight."

"And your feelings are quite changed now?" asked his mother.

"Oh, yes! quite, mamma, it only seems more soothing, because I feel as if I were alone with G.o.d. Does it not seem to you, mamma, as if we see something of heaven in these lovely nights? I often wonder whether the bright stars are the many mansions our Saviour speaks of. Oh! mamma, what an immense thought it is to think of all these bright worlds constantly moving--either suns themselves with their planets revolving in ceaseless circles, or else themselves going round some bright sun!"

"And, perhaps," added his mother, "that bright sun carrying all its attendant worlds round some larger and brighter sun, whose distance is too great to be calculated. By the aid of powerful telescopes may be seen in the extremity of our firmament, appearances which those who have devoted themselves to this glorious science have decided are other firmaments, each one containing its countless systems. Oh! Louis, G.o.d is infinite--what if these wondrous creations have no limit, but circle beyond circle spread out to all eternity! We may see the infinity of our Maker in the smallest leaf. There is nothing lost. What we destroy does but change its form."

"Mamma, I once remember cutting a bit of paper into halves--that is to say, I first cut it into halves, and then cut one half into halves and so on, till my scissors would not divide the little bit. I was very idle that day, but I remember thinking that if I could get a pair of scissors small enough I could cut that speck up _forever_--and even if there only happened to be a grain left, I could not make that nothing."

Louis paused; he was lost in thoughts of wonders that human imagination cannot grasp: the immensity and mystery of the Almighty's works.

Presently he added, "I cannot imagine it, mamma, my mind seems lost when I try to think of _forever_. But there is a little hymn you used to teach me that I cannot help thinking of--I often think of it--it was the first I ever learned:

"Twas G.o.d, my child, that made them all By His almighty skill; He keeps them that they do not fall, And rules them by His will.

How very great that G.o.d must be!'"

HYMNS FOR INFANT MINDS.

"Do you remember learning that hymn?" said his mother; "I should have thought it had been too long ago."

"Oh, no, mamma. I remember once very distinctly, you had drawn up the blind that I might look at the stars, and you leaned over my crib, and taught me that verse. Mamma, even when I did not love G.o.d, I used to like to hear _you_ tell me Bible stories and hymns sometimes, but I did not think much of them after they were over; but now, almost every thing reminds me of something in the Bible; or seems a type or a figure of some of our heavenly Father's dealings with us."

"That is what the Apostle says," replied Mrs. Mortimer: "'The weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty, through G.o.d, to the pulling down of strongholds; casting down imaginations, and every high thing that exalteth itself against the knowledge of G.o.d; and bringing into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ.' Your imaginations before were not according to the will of G.o.d; you never saw any thing lovely in Him, but now He has become 'altogether lovely' in your eyes; every imagination that is contrary to His will is subdued, and all brought into obedience to Him. And are you not far happier?"

"Indeed I am; oh, how much more happy!" said Louis: "but, dear mamma, I do not wish you to think that I am always so happy, because that would not be true. Very often, I seem almost to forget that I am a child of G.o.d, and then, nothing awakens those happy feelings."

"I do not suppose you are always so happy, my dear boy. It is too often the case with Christians, that instead of drawing their pleasures from the fountain of life, they imagine that they can make cisterns of their own; they look to the comforts around them, to the friends G.o.d has given them, for satisfaction; and numberless other things have a tendency to draw their minds from their heavenly Father, which must inevitably destroy their peace of mind. But how sad it should ever be so! we have only ourselves to blame that we are not always happy. A Christian should be the most joyous creature that breathes."

"Dear mamma, how many pleasant conversations I have had with you!"

said Louis, affectionately kissing his mother's hand, as it lay on his arm. "They have been some of my sweetest hours. It makes me so happy to talk of G.o.d's love to me."

"An inexhaustible subject," said his mother: "'Then they that feared the Lord, spake often one to another; and the Lord hearkened and heard it; and a book of remembrance was written before Him, for them that feared the Lord, and thought upon his name. And they shall be mine, saith the Lord of Hosts, in that day when I make up my jewels.'

"Our favorite poet has expressed your feelings very beautifully:

'Oh, days of heaven, and nights of equal praise, Serene and peaceful as those heavenly days When souls drawn upward, in communion sweet Enjoy the stillness of some close retreat; Discourse, as if released and safe at home, Of dangers past and wonders yet to come; And spread the sacred treasures of the breast Upon the lap of covenanted rest.'"

COWPER'S "Conversation."

"Come, I think I must order you in," said Mr. Mortimer, who came up with the others, just as these lines were finished. "These nocturnal perambulations will not improve your health, my love; and it is past prayer-time already. What a sweet night!"

"I am afraid I have been a little imprudent, but it was a temptation when the dear boys pressed me so earnestly; our first night at home too, after so long a separation."

"Mamma's very carefully wrapped up," said Neville.

"And it's so deliciously warm," said Reginald.

"Well, let us not increase the evil," said Mr. Mortimer.

They presently re-entered the drawing-room, and the servants being summoned, Mr. Mortimer read prayers, and the boys went to bed.

The weather being generally wet for the next fortnight, all the in-door resources were drawn upon by the young people of the Priory, and time seldom hung heavily on their hands. I do not mean to say that there was never a moment wasted; on the contrary, Louis had many lazy fits. It must be allowed that in holiday time, when no one is expected to do much regularly, there are great temptations to be idle, and boys are apt to forget that it is not particularly for parents and teachers'

good that they are exhorted to make the most of their time.

Louis' father and mother gave him many gentle reminders of his failing, and many were the struggles which he had with his dreamy indolence.

Sometimes, when in accordance with a plan laid down by his mother's advice, he sat down to study for a stated time, he would open the book, and, after leaning over it for half an hour, find that he had built himself a nice little parsonage and school, and established himself a most laborious and useful minister in the prettiest of villages. At other times he was a missionary, or an eminent writer, and occasionally a member of Parliament. Then, at other times, he must draw the plan of a cottage or church, or put down a few verses; and sometimes, when he heard the clock strike the hour that summoned him to his studies, he had some excessively interesting story to finish, or very much preferred some other occupation.