Stepping Heavenward Part 7

"That is just what I was saying. That is just what troubles me."

"To be sure, while perfectly well and happy, in a pleasant home; with friends to love and admire you--"

"Oh, I did not say admire," I interrupted.

"That was just what you meant, my dear."

I am afraid it was, now I come to think it over.

"Well, with plenty of friends, good in an uncommon way, accomplished, learned, and surrounded with pretty and tasteful objects, your life will certainly be in danger of not proving very sublime."

"It is a great pity," I said, musingly.

"Suppose then you content yourself for the present with doing in a faithful, quiet, persistent way all the little, homely tasks that return with each returning day, each one as unto G.o.d, and perhaps by and by you will thus have gained strength for a more heroic life."

"But I don't know how."

"You have some little home duties, I suppose?"

"Yes; I have the care of my own room, and mother wants me to have a general oversight of the parlor; you know we have but one parlor now."

"Is that all you have to do?"

"Why, my music and drawing take up a good deal of my time, and I read and study more or less, and go out some, and we have a good many visitors."

"I suppose, then, you keep your room in nice lady-like order, and that the parlor is dusted every morning, loose music put out of the way, books restored to their places-"

"Now I know mother has been telling you."

"Your mother has told me nothing at all."

"Well, then," I said, laughing, but a little ashamed, "I don't keep my room in nice order, and mother really sees to the parlor herself, though I pretend to do it."

"And is she never annoyed by this neglect?"

"Oh, yes, very much annoyed."

"Then, dear Katy, suppose your first act of heroism tomorrow should be the gratifying your mother in these little things, little though they are. Surely your first duty, next to pleasing G.o.d, is to please your mother, and in every possible way to sweeten and beautify her life. You may depend upon it that a life of real heroism and self-sacrifice must begin and lay its foundation in this little world, wherein it learns its first lesson and takes its first steps."

"And do you really think that G.o.d notices such little things ?"

"My dear child, what a question! If there is any one truth I would gladly impress on the mind of a you Christian, it is just this, that G.o.d notices the most trivial act, accepts the poorest, most threadbare little service, listens to the coldest, feeblest pet.i.tion, and gathers up with parental fondness all our fragmentary desires and attempts at good works. Oh, if we could only begin to conceive how He loves us, what different creatures we should be!"

I felt inspired by her enthusiasm, though I don't think I quite understand what she means. I did not dare to stay any longer, for, with her great host of children, she must have her hands full.

March 25.-Mother is very much astonished to see how nicely I am keeping things in order. I was flying about this morning, singing, and dusting the furniture, when she came in and began, "He that is faithful in that which is least "-but I ran at her my brush, and would not let her finish. really, really don't deserve to be praised.

For I have been thinking that, if it is true that G.o.d notices every little thing we do to please Him, He must also notice every cross word we speak, every shrug of the shoulders, every ungracious look, and that they displease Him. And my list of such offences is as long as my life.

March 29-Yesterday, for the first time since that dreadful blow, I felt some return of my natural gayety and cheerfulness. It seemed to come hand in hand with my first real effort to go so far out of myself as to try to do exactly what would gratify dear mother.

But to-day I am all down again. I miss Amelia's friendship, for one thing. To be sure I wonder how I ever came to love such a superficial character so devotedly, but I must have somebody to love, and perhaps I invented a lovely creature, and called it by her name, and bowed down to it and worshiped it. I certainly did so in regard to him whose heart less cruelty has left me so sad, so desolate.

Evening.-Mother has been very patient and forbearing with me all day.

To-night, after tea, she said, in her gentlest, tenderest way,

"Dear Katy, I feel very sorry for you. But I see one path which you have not yet tried, which can lead you out of these sore straits. You have tried living for yourself a good many years, and the result is great weariness and heaviness of soul. Try now to live for others.

Take a cla.s.s in the Sunday-school. Go with me to visit my poor people. You will be astonished to find how much suffering and sickness there is in this world, and how delightful it is to sympathize with and try to relieve it."

This advice was very repugnant to me. My time is pretty fully occupied with my books, my music and my drawing. And of all places in the world I hate a sick-room. But, on the whole, I will take a cla.s.s in the Sunday-school.

Chapter 5

V.

APRIL 6.

I have taken it at last. I would not take one be fore, because I knew I could not teach little children how to love G.o.d, unless I loved Him myself. My cla.s.s is perfectly delightful. There are twelve dear little things in it, of all ages between eight and nine. Eleven are girls, and the one boy makes me more trouble than all of them put together. When I get them all about me, and their sweet innocent faces look up into mine, I am so happy that I can hardly help stopping every now and then to kiss them. They ask the very strangest questions I mean to spend a great deal of time in preparing the lesson, and in hunting up stories to ill.u.s.trate it. Oh, I am so glad I was ever born into this beautiful world, where there will always be dear little children to love!

APRIL 13.-Sunday has come again, and with it my darling little cla.s.s!

Dr. Cabot has preached delightfully all day, and I feel that I begin to understand his preaching better, and that it must do me good. I long, I truly long to please G.o.d; I long to feel as the best Christians feel, and to live as they live.

APRIL 20.-Now that I have these twelve little ones to instruct, I am more than ever in earnest about setting them a good example through the week. It is true they do not, most of them, know how I spend my time, nor how I act. But I know, and whenever I am conscious of not practicing what I preach, I am bitterly ashamed and grieved. How much work, badly done, I am now having to undo. If I had begun in earnest to serve G.o.d when I was as young as these children are, how many wrong habits I should have avoided; habits that entangle me now, as in so many nets. I am trying to take each of these little gentle girls by the hand and to lead her to Christ. Poor Johnny Ross is not so docile as they are, and tries my patience to the last degree.

APRIL 27.-This morning I had my little flock about me, and talked to them out of the very bottom of my heart about Jesus. They left their seats and got close to me in a circle, leaning on my lap and drinking in every word. All of a sudden I was aware, as by a magnetic influence, that a great lumbering man in the next seat was looking at me out of two of the blackest eyes I ever saw, and evidently listening to what I was saying. I was disconcerted at first, then angry. What impertinence. What rudeness! I am sure he must have seen my displeasure in my face, for he got up what I suppose he meant for a blush, that is he turned several shades darker than he was before, giving one the idea that he is full of black rather than red blood. I should not have remembered it, however-by it-I mean his impertinence--if he had not shortly after made a really excellent address to the children. Perhaps it was a little above their comprehension, but it showed a good deal of thought and earnestness.

I meant to ask who he was, but forgot it.

This has been a delightful Sunday. I have really feasted on .Dr.

Cabot's preaching. But I am satisfied that there is something in religion I do not yet comprehend. I do wish I positively knew that G.o.d had forgiven and accepted me.

MAY 6.-Last evening Clara Ray had a little party and I was there. She has a great knack at getting the right sort of people together, and of making them enjoy themselves.

I sang several songs, and so did Clara, but they all said my voice was finer and in better training than hers. It is delightful to be with cultivated, agreeable people. I could have stayed all night, but mother sent for me before any one else had thought of going.

MAY 7.-I have been on a charming excursion to-day with Clara Ray and all her set. I was rather tired, but had an invitation to a concert this evening which I could not resist.

JULY 21.-So much has been going on that I have not had time to write.

There is no end to the picnics, drives, parties, etc., this summer. I am afraid I am not getting on at all. My prayers are dull and short, and full of wandering thoughts. I am brimful of vivacity and good humor in company, and as soon as I get home am stupid and peevish. I suppose this will always be so, as it always has been and I declare I would rather be so than such a vapid, flat creature as Mary Jones, or such a dull, heavy one as big Lucy Merrill.

JULY 24.-Clara Ray says the girls think me reckless and imprudent in speech. I've a good mind not to go with her set any more. I am afraid I have been a good deal dazzled by the attentions I have received of late; and now comes this blow at my vanity.

On the whole, I feel greatly out of sorts this evening.

JULY 28.-People talk about happiness to be found in a Christian life.

I wonder why I do not find more! On Sundays I am pretty good, and always seem to start afresh; but on week-days I am drawn along with those about me. All my pleasures are innocent ones; there is surely no harm in going to concerts, driving out, singing, and making little visits! But these things distract me; they absorb me; they make religious duties irksome. I almost wish I could shut myself up in a cell, and so get out of the reach of temptation.

The truth is, the journey heavenward is all up hill I have to force myself to keep on. The wonder is that anybody gets there with so much to oppose--- so little to help one!