Part 7 (1/2)
In the meantime the society was flouris.h.i.+ng, a new element had been brought into it, and so far as its literary character was concerned, the most sanguine expectations of the Rev. John Jay had been met.
Several public meetings had been held, filling the house to overflowing, and eliciting the highest and most deserving praise. But that was of course from outsiders, and those simple-minded souls in the church, who never see evil without looking for good; who indeed are always finding the latter in everything and in every one but themselves. These were not competent judges. ”Had the church been left to them, where would have been its sacredness and sanct.i.ty? Why, they never even changed their voices in the Lord's house, and they even wore a smile while there, as if they had forgotten the Lord was in his holy temple.”
Thank G.o.d, there are those who carry His image about wherever they go!
Such need not by their own effort show a conscienceness of His presence.
He is the continual light of their countenance, and the gladness and music he makes in their hearts, is heard in their voice. They wors.h.i.+p and praise with every breath, because their souls must find an outlet to the great love which holds them.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Decoration]
CHAPTER IX.
A DAY OF PLEASURE.
IT was an unusually warm day in June, and Ruth had dismissed her scholars early on that account. She stood by the window plucking the dried leaves off the climbing rose, and thinking how delightful the approaching vacation would be, when a little hand touched her. Looking down she found Philip by her side.
”And what will mamma say at having no little boy at home?” she asked, drawing him nearer, and smoothing back his wavy hair.
”O, mamma knows. She only said I must not trouble you. I guess I wouldn't do that, though, because I love you too much.”
Here the little hand tried to give Ruth's a great squeeze, while such an effort brought color to the pale cheeks. Not only that, but it brought something he wanted very much, a kiss.
”You always kiss me for telling you that, Miss Ruth, and so does mamma.
What do you do it for? Do you like little boys to love you?”
”You have not told me how much you love me,” was the laughing reply. ”I cannot answer questions till I know all about them.”
”O, I love you more than all the world, except my mamma;--isn't that _ever_ so much?”
”Yes, that is a great deal. Then you don't love any one but your mamma and me?”
”I love G.o.d,” and the earnest eyes were fixed on the blue clouds. ”Would you like to be up there, Miss Ruth? Mamma reads about it for me. I should like to go up there and see it. I should like to see G.o.d, too, but I would come back again, you know. Mamma always cries and hugs me when I say that; just as if I would stay away from mamma and you. I guess I wouldn't. But I would see all the beautiful things the Bible says are there, and then I would draw pretty pictures. Mamma says there is a house up there for us all, and some day we will go and stay there.
Do you want to go, Miss Ruth?”
”Yes, some day,” she replied; but there was no kindling of the eye, no joy of soul at the thought, for Ruth knew that her earthly love was stronger and more absorbing than the heavenly. ”There, now, we will go and see about Miss Agnes's dinner,” she added, glad to divert his thoughts.
”Miss Agnes has not come, Martha?” she inquired.
”No, ma'am. I have been watching for her. She will be awful hot, I think.”
”You are Miss Agnes's little girl, and I am Miss Ruth's little boy, aren't we?” asked the child.
”I am Miss Ruth's, too,” said Martha, decidedly.
”Yes, but you love Miss Agnes best.”
”I love both just the same--only different; but Miss Agnes was my teacher.”