Part 8 (2/2)
He at once turned to the faithful old servant of the great Master, and, checking all attempts at ridicule or retort in the other guests, a.s.sured him that he thoroughly respected and appreciated his feelings and motives and his present conduct, and that never again would he himself say anything against the old man's faith nor his Saviour while he was by, nor would he suffer any who might be with him to do so.”
”Hip, hip, hurrah!” said Walter. ”The old man got the best of it after all; and so will my brother Amos here, spite of his having such an unworthy coward of a brother as poor Walter. But you have another example for us, auntie; nothing like knocking the nail on the head. I feel better already, and mean to be a perfect moral lion for bravery in future; at least I hope so.”
”I hope so too, Walter,” said his aunt with a smile. ”I will give you, then, one other instance of the same sort of moral courage, but taken from quite a different country, and occurring in our own days; and then I think we shall have had lessons enough for to-night. My hero this time is an American, and a young man too.
”You will have heard of the remarkable revival which took place in that country, I mean in the United States, some few years since. Of course, at such seasons there will be a mixture of good and evil. Not all who make a profession will stand firm; while those who have been merely carried along by the current of excitement will return at last to the world, from which they have never really separated themselves, when the excitement has pa.s.sed away. But, indeed, a great and lasting work for G.o.d was accomplished in that revival, and the young man I am speaking about was one of the fruits of it.
”He had been living a very gay and thoughtless life. I am not sure that he had been indulging in any openly sinful practices; but, at any rate, he had been giving himself up wholly to the pursuit of this world. He was in a good social position, and possessed of abundant means.
Moreover, he had received a good education, so far as mere learning went, and was of pleasing and popular manners. The last thing he would have thought of would have been turning a Christian. But G.o.d, whose thoughts are not as our thoughts, had better things in store for him.
The revival wave swept over the neighbourhood where he was, and carried him along with it. His heart, his views, his aims were all really changed; he was, indeed and in truth, a new creature. And now he felt that he must not hide his colours, he must nail them to the mast, or, rather, he must wrap them round him that, go where he might, every one might see them. His was that thorough-going, energetic, outspeaking disposition which has accomplished such marvellous earthly things through so many of his fellow-countrymen. He was not the person to do anything by halves.
”Before his conversion, himself and several other young men, of like tastes and habits, used to meet weekly at one another's houses, in turn, for card-playing and carousing; and at these meetings he used to be the very life of the party, the gayest of the gay. But what should he do now? It would be no easy matter to confess to his young a.s.sociates the change that had taken place in his heart. What would they think and say? Perhaps he might let it get known by degrees, and then he could just absent himself from the old gatherings, and merely drop out of a society no longer congenial to him. This would save him a great deal of shame and reproach. Would not this be as much as could be reasonably expected of him, and sufficient to show his sincerity and consistency?
It might have satisfied ordinary characters, but it did not satisfy him.
He wanted to be doing something at once for the Master, and to begin with those very young men who had been his companions in sin. So he sent round his printed invitations to every one of them to a gathering in his own house. Such had been the custom with all the members of their fraternity. But this time the invitation was no longer to 'Tea and Cards,' but to 'Tea and Prayer.' It was, indeed, a bold stroke, but it was not the act of the moment from mere impulse or excitement.
”The day of meeting came. A few of his old acquaintances arrived, some, it may be, out of curiosity, or supposing that the 'Prayer' was only a joke. But none were left in doubt. Plainly, lovingly, faithfully, he set before them how the change had been wrought in himself, and how happy it had made him; and then he affectionately urged them all to take the same course as he had done. And I believe that his n.o.ble and courageous dealing was not in vain. Am I wrong, Walter, in cla.s.sing that young American gentleman among my moral heroes?”
”No, dear aunt, certainly not,” replied her nephew thoughtfully. ”I think he deserves a foremost place;--don't you, Amos?”
”Yes,” replied his brother; ”he reminds me of the greatest, perhaps, of all moral heroes--I mean, of course, among beings like ourselves. I am thinking of the apostle Paul, who changed at once from the persecutor to the preacher; gave up every earthly honour and advantage; braved the bitter scorn of his old friends; and, without hesitation, began immediately publicly to proclaim the gospel which he had before been mad to destroy.”
Walter held out his hand to his brother, and the clasp was a close and mutual one; and then, hand in hand, they left their aunt, who laid her head on her pillow that night with deep thankfulness in her heart, for she saw that, spite of all drawbacks, there was a good work making progress in Walter, and that the high and holy character of the true and tried disciple of the Saviour was gaining strength and beauty in the once despised and misunderstood Amos.
CHAPTER NINE.
IS IT GENUINE?
But though Walter was learning to understand and appreciate his brother's character, and to acknowledge his superiority to himself in moral courage, he was not altogether satisfied with continuing to lie under the sense of that superiority on his brother's part. He had himself been so constantly made the object of his father's admiration and outspoken praises, and had always been so popular with all friends of the family and guests at the Manor-house, that anything like a feeling of inferiority to his brother was one which he found it very hard to allow a lodging in his heart and thoughts. So, while the generous impulse of the moment had led him to applaud and rejoice in his brother's n.o.ble moral courage, when they were discussing the matter in his aunt's room, he was by no means prepared, when that impulse had died away, to allow Amos to carry off and retain the palm which he acknowledged that he had won. Jealousy of his brother's reputation for moral courage with Miss Huntingdon was a meanness which he would have thought himself incapable of, and which he would have repudiated indignantly had he been charged with it. Nevertheless, it was there in his heart; it made him restless and dissatisfied, and kept him longing for an opportunity to display a moral courage which should s.h.i.+ne with a light that might, even in his aunt's eyes, eclipse, or at any rate equal, that which glowed so brightly in Amos. He was therefore on the watch for such an opportunity; and before long that opportunity, as he thought, presented itself.
One morning as the squire was reading the county paper, while his sister was superintending the preparations for breakfast, and her two nephews were seated near her, Mr Huntingdon exclaimed suddenly, in a tone of angry excitement, ”Why, whatever is the meaning of this? Walter, my boy, whatever does it mean?”
”What, father?” asked his son in a voice of mingled uneasiness and surprise.
”Why, just listen to this advertis.e.m.e.nt:--'I hereby challenge the working-men of this neighbourhood to a trial of skill in running, leaping, and shooting; and I promise to give a sovereign to any man who shall beat me in a mile race, a high jump, and firing at a mark. The trial to come off on Marley Heath, on Tuesday, June 8th, at four o'clock p.m.
”'Signed, Walter Huntingdon, Flixworth Manor.'--Do you know anything about this, Walter? Did you really put this advertis.e.m.e.nt into the paper? or is it a disgraceful hoax?”
Poor Walter looked perfectly astounded, as did also his aunt and brother. Then he said, with some hesitation, ”It is no advertis.e.m.e.nt of mine.”
”No, I thought not,” said his father indignantly. ”It must be, then, a most shameful hoax; and I shall speak or write to the editor about it in pretty strong terms you may be sure.”
”Father,” said Walter sadly, and after a pause, ”it is no hoax.”
”No hoax! What do you mean? You said you did not put the advertis.e.m.e.nt in; so it must be a hoax.”
”I will explain it,” said his son in a subdued voice. ”The other day, young Saunders, Gregson, and myself were discussing which of us was the best shot, and best at a race and a jump. 'Well,' said I, 'we can easily put it to the test. Let us meet to-morrow on Marley Heath and have it out.' So we brought our guns with us next day; and Saunders and Gregson brought a few other fellows with them to look on and see all fair. We three fired at a mark, and leapt over a rod hung across two poles, and tried who was best runner over a hundred yards; and I won the day in all three things. So, as we were sitting down in the little roadside inn, where we all had some eggs and bacon and bread and cheese together for lunch, Gregson said to the other fellows, 'Why, our friend Walter here might challenge the whole county.' 'That he might; and win too,' said more than one of them. 'I don't know,' I said; 'but I shouldn't mind offering a sovereign to any working-man in the neighbourhood who would beat me.' 'Good,' said Saunders; 'there's many a working-man that would like to have a try for your sovereign; and it would be capital fun to see the match come off.' 'What do you say to putting an advertis.e.m.e.nt in the county paper to that effect?' said Gregson. 'Not I,' I said; 'I shall do nothing of the sort.' 'Ah, he's backing out,' said Saunders. 'Indeed, I'm not,' I cried; 'I meant what I said.' 'Well, will you let me put the advertis.e.m.e.nt in in your name?
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