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diff --git a/21997-h/21997-h.htm b/21997-h/21997-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d957bc1 --- /dev/null +++ b/21997-h/21997-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3737 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Christie's Old Organ , by Mrs. O. F. Walton</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i1 {display: block; margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Christie's Old Organ , by Mrs. O. F. Walton</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Christie's Old Organ </p> +<p> Or, "Home, Sweet Home"</p> +<p>Author: Mrs. O. F. Walton</p> +<p>Release Date: July 4, 2007 [eBook #21997]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHRISTIE'S OLD ORGAN ***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Joel Erickson, Mary Meehan,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h1><span class="smcap">Christie's Old Organ</span></h1> + +<h4>OR</h4> + +<h3>"HOME, SWEET HOME"</h3> + +<h2>By <span class="smcap">O. F. Walton</span></h2> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h3>PHILADELPHIA<br /> +HENRY ALTEMUS COMPANY</h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="c001" id="c001"></a> +<img src="images/c001.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3>The Clergyman and Christie.</h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p> + +<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.</a><br /> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<p><a href="#c001">"The Clergyman and Christie."</a></p> +<p><a href="#c100">"Christie and Master Treffy"</a></p> +<p><a href="#c200">"Home, Sweet Home"</a></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHRISTIE'S OLD ORGAN;</h2> + +<h4>OR,</h4> + +<h3>"HOME, SWEET HOME."</h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<h3>THE OLD ORGAN.</h3> + + +<p>"Home, sweet home, there's no place like home, there's no place like +home," played the unmusical notes of a barrel-organ in the top room of a +lodging-house in a dreary back street. The words certainly did not seem +to apply to that dismal abode; there were not many there who knew much +of the sweets of home.</p> + +<p>It was a very dark, uncomfortable place, and as the lodgers in the lower +room turned over on their wretched beds, many of which were merely bare +wooden benches, it may be that one and another gave a sigh as he thought +how far he was from "Home, sweet home."</p> + +<p>But the organ played on, though the hour was late, and the dip candle +was put out, and the fire was dying away. If you had climbed the crooked +staircase, you would have seen an old man sitting alone in his attic, +and smiling at his organ as he turned it with a trembling hand.</p> + +<p>Old Treffy loved his barrel-organ; it was the one comfort of his life. +He was a poor, forlorn old man, without a friend in the world. Every one +that he had loved was dead; he had no one to whom he could talk, or to +whom he could tell his troubles, and thus he gathered up all the +remaining bits and fragments of love in his old heart, faded and +withered though they were, and he gave them all to his old organ, which +had well-nigh seen as many summers as he had. It was getting very +antiquated and old-fashioned now; the red silk in front of it was very +soiled and worn, and it could not play any of the new tunes of which the +children were so fond. It sometimes struck old Treffy that he and his +organ were very much alike,—they were getting altogether behind the +age; and people looked down upon them and pushed past them, as they +hurried along the street. And though old Treffy was very patient, yet he +could not help feeling this.</p> + +<p>He had felt it very much on the day of which I am writing. It was cold, +dismal weather; a cutting east wind had swept round the corners of the +streets, and had chilled the old man through and through. His threadbare +coat could not keep it out; how could he expect it to do so, when he had +worn it so many years he could scarcely count them? His thin, trembling +old hands were so benumbed with cold that he could scarcely feel the +handle of the organ, and, as he turned it, he made sundry little shakes +and quavers in the tune, which were certainly not intended by the maker +of the old barrel-organ.</p> + +<p>There was not much variety in the tunes old Treffy could play. There was +the "Old Hundredth," and "Poor Mary Ann," and "Rule Britannia;" the only +other one was "Home, sweet Home," but that was old Treffy's favorite. He +always played it very slowly, to make it last longer, and on this cold +day the shakes and the quavers in it sounded most pathetic.</p> + +<p>But no one took much notice of old Treffy or his organ. A little crowd +of children gathered round him, and asked him for all sorts of new tunes +of which he had never even heard the names.</p> + +<p>They did not seem to care for "Home, sweet Home," or the "Old +Hundredth," and soon moved away. Then an old gentleman put his head out +of a window, and in a cross voice told him to go on and not disturb a +quiet neighborhood with his noise. Old Treffy meekly obeyed, and, +battling with the rough east wind, he tried another and a more bustling +street; but here a policeman warned him to depart, lest he should crowd +up the way.</p> + +<p>Poor old Treffy was almost fainting, but he must not give up, for he had +not a half-penny in his pocket, and he had come out without breakfast. +At length a kind-hearted farmer's wife, who was passing with a basket on +her arm, took pity on the trembling old man, and gave him a penny from +her capacious pocket.</p> + +<p>Thus all day long Treffy played on; over and over again his four tunes +were sounded forth, but that was the only penny he received that cold +day.</p> + +<p>At last, as the daylight was fading, he turned homeward. On his way he +parted with his solitary penny for a cake of bread, and slowly and +wearily he dragged himself up the steep stairs to his lonely attic.</p> + +<p>Poor old Treffy was in bad spirits this evening. He felt that he and his +organ were getting out of date—things of the past. They were growing +old together. He could remember the day when it was new. How proud he +had been of it! Oh, how he had admired it! The red silk was quite +bright, and the tunes were all in fashion. There were not so many organs +about then, and people stopped to listen,—not children only, but grown +men and women,—and Treffy had been a proud man in those days. But a +generation had grown up since then, and now Treffy felt that he was a +poor, lone old man, very far behind the age, and that his organ was +getting too old-fashioned for the present day. Thus he felt very cast +down and dismal, as he raked together the cinders, and tried to make a +little blaze in the small fire he had lighted.</p> + +<p>But when he had eaten his cake, and had taken some tea which he had +warmed over again, old Treffy felt rather better, and he turned as usual +to his old organ to cheer his fainting spirits. For old Treffy knew +nothing of a better Comforter.</p> + +<p>The landlady of the house had objected at first to old Treffy's organ; +she said it disturbed the lodgers; but on Treffy's offering to pay a +penny a week extra for his little attic, on condition of his being able +to play whenever he liked, she made no further opposition.</p> + +<p>And thus, till late in the night, he turned away, and his face grew +brighter, and his heart lighter, as he listened to his four tunes. It +was such good company, he said, and the attic was so lonely at night. +And there was no one to find fault with the organ there, or to call it +old-fashioned. Treffy admired it with all his heart, and felt that at +night at least it had justice done to it.</p> + +<p>But there was one who was listening to the old organ, and admiring it as +much as Treffy, of whom the old man knew nothing. Outside his door, +crouching down with his ear against a large crack, lay a little ragged +boy; he had come into the great lodging-room downstairs to sleep, and +had laid down on one of the hard benches, when old Treffy's barrel-organ +began to play. He had not listened to it much at first, but when the +first notes of "Home, sweet Home," had been sounded forth, little +Christie had raised his head on his elbow, and listened with all his +might. It was almost too much for him; it was a memory of the past. A +few months ago, little Christie had a mother, and this was the last tune +she sang. It brought it all back to him; the bare, desolate room, the +wasted form on the bed, the dear, loving hand which had stroked his face +so gently, and the sweet voice had sung that very tune to him. He could +hear her, even now: "Home, sweet home, there's no place like home; +there's no place like home." How sweetly she had sung it!—he remembered +it so well. And he remembered what she had said to him just +afterwards,—</p> + +<p>"I'm going home, Christie—going home—home, sweet home; I'm going home, +Christie."</p> + +<p>And those were the last words she had said to him.</p> + +<p>Since then, life had been very dreary to little Christopher. Life +without a mother, it hardly <i>was</i> life to him. He had never been happy +since she had died. He had worked very hard, poor little fellow, to earn +his bread, for she had told him to do that. But he had often wished he +could go to his mother in "Home, sweet Home." And he wished it more than +ever this night, as he heard his mother's tune. He waited for it very +patiently, whilst old Treffy was playing the other three which came +first, but at length some one closed the door, and the noise inside the +lodging-room was so great that he could not distinguish the notes of the +longed-for tune.</p> + +<p>So Christie crept out quietly in the darkness, and closing the door +softly, that no one might notice it, he stole gently upstairs. He knelt +down by the door and listened. It was very cold, and the wind swept up +the staircase, and made little Christie shiver. Yet still he knelt by +the door.</p> + +<p>At length the organ stopped; he heard the old man putting it down by the +wall, and in a few minutes all was still.</p> + +<p>Then Christie crept downstairs again, and lay down once more on his hard +bench, and he fell asleep, and dreamt of the mother in the far-off land. +And he thought he heard her singing, "'Home, sweet Home,' I'm home now, +Christie; I'm home now, and there's no place like home."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h3>CHRISTIE'S IMPORTANT CHARGE.</h3> + + +<p>The dismal lodging-house had a charm for little Christie now. Night +after night he returned there, that he might hear his mother's tune. The +landlady began to look upon him as one of her regular household. She +sometimes gave him a crust of bread, for she noticed his hungry face +each night, as he came to the large lodging-room to sleep.</p> + +<p>And every night old Treffy played, and Christie crept upstairs to +listen.</p> + +<p>But one night, as he was kneeling at the attic door, the music suddenly +ceased, and Christie heard a dull, heavy sound, as if something had +fallen on the floor. He waited a minute, but all was quite still; so he +cautiously lifted the latch, and peeped into the room. There was only a +dim light in the attic, for the fire was nearly out, and old Treffy had +no candle. But the moonlight, streaming in at the window, showed +Christie the form of the old man stretched on the ground, and his poor +old barrel-organ laid beside him. Christie crept to his side, and took +hold of his hand. It was deadly cold, and Christie thought he was dead. +He was just going to call the landlady, when the old man moved, and in a +trembling voice asked, "What's the matter, and who's there?"</p> + +<p>"It's only me, Master Treffy," said Christie, "it's only me. I was +listening to your organ, I was, and I heard you tumble, so I came in. +Are you better, Master Treffy?"</p> + +<p>The old man raised his head, and looked round. Christie helped him to +get up, and took him to his attic straw bed in the corner of the attic.</p> + +<p>"Are you better, Master Treffy?" he asked again.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," said the old man; "it's only the cold, boy; it's very chilly +o' nights now, and I'm a poor lone old man. Good night."</p> + +<p>And so the old man fell asleep, and Christie lay down by his side and +slept also.</p> + +<p>That was the beginning of a friendship between old Treffy and Christie. +They were both alone in the world, both friendless and desolate, and it +drew them to each other. Christie was a great comfort to Treffy. He went +errands for him, he cleaned the old attic, and he carried the +barrel-organ downstairs each morning when Treffy went on his rounds. +And, in return, Treffy gave Christie a corner of the attic to sleep in +and let him sit over his tiny fire whilst he played his dear old organ. +And whenever he came to "Home, sweet Home," Christie thought of his +mother, and of what she had said to him before she died.</p> + +<p>"Where is 'Home, sweet Home,' Master Treffy?" he asked one night.</p> + +<p>Treffy looked round the wretched little attic, with its damp, +weather-stained roof, and its rickety rotten floor, and felt that he +could not call <i>it</i> "Home, sweet Home."</p> + +<p>"It's not here, Christie," he said.</p> + +<p>"No," said Christie, thoughtfully; "I expect it's a long way from here, +Master Treffy."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the old man; "there must be something better somewhere."</p> + +<p>"My mother used to talk about heaven," said Christie, doubtfully. "I +wonder if that was the home she meant?"</p> + +<p>But old Treffy knew very little of heaven; no one had ever told him of +the home above. Yet he thought of Christie's words many times that day, +as he dragged himself about wearily, with his old organ. He was failing +very fast, poor old man; his legs were becoming feeble, and he was +almost fainting when he reached the attic. The cold wind had chilled him +through and through.</p> + +<p>Christie was at home before him, and had lit the fire, and boiled the +kettle, and put all ready for old Treffy's comfort. He wondered what was +the matter with Treffy that night; he was so quiet and silent, and he +never even asked for his old organ after tea, but went to bed as soon as +possible.</p> + +<p>And the next day he was too weak and feeble to go out; and Christie +watched beside him, and got him all he wanted, as tenderly as a woman +could have done.</p> + +<p>And the next day it was the same, and the day after that, till the attic +cupboard grew empty, and all poor old Treffy's pence were gone.</p> + +<p>"What are we to do, now, Christie?" he said, pitifully; "I can't go out +to-day, my lad, can I?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Christie, "you mustn't think of it, Master Treffy. Let me +see, what can we do? Shall <i>I</i> take the organ out?"</p> + +<p>Old Treffy did not answer; a great struggle was going on in his mind. +Could he let any one but himself touch his dear old organ? It would be +very hard to see it go out, and have to stay behind,—very hard indeed. +But Christie was a careful lad; he would rather trust it with him than +with any one else; and he had come to his last piece of money. He must +not sit still and starve. Yes, the organ must go; but it would be a +great trial to him. He would be so lonely in the dark attic when +Christie and the organ were both gone. What a long, tedious day it would +be to him!</p> + +<p>"Yes, Christie, you may take her to-morrow," he said at length; "but you +must be <i>very</i> careful of her, my lad,—very careful."</p> + +<p>"All right, Master Treffy," said Christie, cheerily; "I'll bring her +safe home, you see if I don't."</p> + +<p>What a day that was in Christie's life! He was up with the lark, as +people say, but there was no lark within many a mile of that dismal +street. He was certainly up before the sparrows, and long before the men +on the benches in the great lodging-room. He crept out cautiously into +the court in the gray morning light, and kneeling by the common pump, he +splashed the water upon his face and neck till they lost all feeling +with the cold. Then he rubbed his hands till they were as red as +cherries, and he was obliged to wrap them up in his ragged coat that he +might feel they still belonged to him. And then he stole upstairs again, +and lifting the latch of the attic door very gently, lest old Treffy +should awake, he combed his rough hair with a broken comb, and arranged +his ragged garments to the best possible advantage.</p> + +<p>Then Christie was ready; and he longed for the time when old Treffy +would awake, and give him leave to go. The sparrows were chirping on the +eaves now, and the sun was beginning to shine. There were noises in the +house, too, and one by one the men in the great lodging-room shook +themselves, and went out to their work and to their labor until the +evening.</p> + +<p>Christie watched them crossing the court, and his impatience to be off +grew stronger. At length he touched old Treffy's hand very gently, and +the old man said, in a bewildered voice,—</p> + +<p>"What is it, Christie, boy? what is it?"</p> + +<p>"It's morning, Master Treffy," said Christie; "shall you soon be awake?"</p> + +<p>The old man turned over in bed, and finally sat up.</p> + +<p>"Why, Christie, boy, how nice you look!" said Treffy, admiringly.</p> + +<p>Christie drew himself up with considerable importance, and walked up and +down the attic, that Treffy might further admire him.</p> + +<p>"May I go now, Master Treffy?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Christie, boy, go if you like," said the old man; "but you'll be +very careful of her, won't you, Christie?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Master Treffy," said the boy, "I'll be as careful as you are."</p> + +<p>"And you'll not turn her round too fast, Christie," he went on.</p> + +<p>"No, Master Treffy," said Christie, "I'll turn her no faster than you +do."</p> + +<p>"And you mustn't stop and talk to boys in the street, Christie; they're +very rude sometimes, are boys, and they always want the new tunes, +Christie; but never you heed them. Her tunes are getting old-fashioned, +poor old thing; she's something like me. But you mustn't take no notice +of the boys, Christie."</p> + +<p>"No, Master Treffy," said Christie; "no more than you do."</p> + +<p>"There's one tune they're very fond of," said old Treffy, meditatively; +"I don't rightly know what it is; they call it 'Marshal Lazy' +[Marseillaise], or something of that sort. I reckon it's called after +some man in the wars, maybe."</p> + +<p>"You don't know who he was?" asked Christie.</p> + +<p>"No," said old Treffy, "I don't bother my head about it. I expect he was +some lazy scoundrel who wouldn't do his duty, and so they made up a song +to mock at him. But that's as it may be, Christie; I don't know, I'm +sure. I expect he wasn't born when my organ was made; I expect not, +Christie."</p> + +<p>"Well, Master Treffy, I'm ready," said Christy, putting the organ-strap +over his neck; "good-bye."</p> + +<p>And, with an air of great importance, Christie carefully descended the +rickety stairs, and marched triumphantly across the court. A few +children who were there gathered round him with admiring eyes, and +escorted him down the street.</p> + +<p>"Give us a tune, Christie; play away, Christie," they all cried out. But +Christie shook his head resolutely, and marched on. He was not sorry +when they grew tired of following him and turned back. Now he felt +himself a man; and he went on in a most independent manner.</p> + +<p>And then he began to play. What a moment that was for him!</p> + +<p>He had often turned the handle of the barrel-organ in the lonely old +attic, but that was a very different thing to playing it in the street. +There had been no one to hear him there except old Treffy, who used to +stand by most anxiously, saying, "Turn her gently, Christie; turn her +gently." But here there were crowds of people passing by, and sometimes +some one stopped for a minute, and then how proud Christie felt! There +was no barrel-organ like his, he felt sure. He did not care what the +folks said about Marshal Lazy; he was not so good as poor Mary Ann, +Christie felt sure; and as for "Home, sweet Home," Christie almost broke +down every time he played it. He did <i>so</i> love his mother, and he could +not help thinking she was singing it still somewhere. He wondered very +much where she was, and where "Home, sweet Home," was. He must try to +find out somehow.</p> + +<p>And thus the day wore away, and Christie's patience was rewarded by +quite a little store of pence. How proud he was to spend it on his way +home in comforts for old Treffy, and how much he enjoyed giving the old +man an account of his day's adventures!</p> + +<p>Treffy gave Christie a warm welcome when he opened the attic door; but +it would be hard to say whether he was more pleased to see Christie, or +to see his dear old barrel-organ. He examined it most carefully and +tenderly, but he could not discover that Christie had done any harm to +it, and he praised him accordingly.</p> + +<p>Then, while Christie was getting tea ready, Treffy played through all +his four tunes, dwelling most affectionately and admiringly on "Home, +sweet Home."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h3>ONLY ANOTHER MONTH.</h3> + + +<p>Old Treffy did not regain his strength. He continued weak and feeble. He +was not actually ill, and could sit up day after day by the tiny fire +which Christie lighted for him in the morning. But he was not able to +descend the steep staircase, much less to walk about with the heavy +organ, which even made Christie's shoulders ache.</p> + +<p>So Christie took the old man's place. It was not always such pleasant +work as on that first morning. There were cold days and rainy days; +there was drizzling sleet, which lashed Christie's face; and biting +frost, which chilled him through and through. There were damp fogs, +which wrapped him round like a wet blanket, and rough winds, which +nearly took him off his feet. Then he grew a little weary of the sound +of the poor old organ. He never had the heart to confess this to old +Treffy; indeed he scarcely liked to own it to himself; but he could not +help wishing that poor Mary Ann would come to the end of her troubles, +and that the "Old Hundredth" would change into something new. He never +grew tired of "Home, sweet Home;" it was ever fresh to him, for he heard +in it his mother's voice.</p> + +<p>Thus the winter wore away, and the spring came on, and the days became +longer and lighter. Then Christie would go much farther out of the town, +to the quiet suburbs where the sound of a barrel-organ was not so often +heard. The people had time to listen in these parts; they were far away +from the busy stir of the town, and there were but few passers-by on the +pavement. It was rather dull in these outlying suburbs. The rows of +villas, with their stiff gardens in front, grew a little monotonous. It +was just the kind of place in which a busy, active mind would long for a +little variety. And so it came to pass that even a barrel-organ was a +welcome visitor; and one and another would throw Christie a penny, and +encourage him to come again.</p> + +<p>One hot spring day, when the sun was shining in all his vigor, as if he +had been tired of being hidden in the winter, Christie was toiling up +one of these roads on the outskirts of the town. The organ was very +heavy for him, and he had to stop every now and then to rest for a +minute. At length he reached a nice-looking house, standing in a very +pretty garden. The flower-beds in front of the house were filled with +the early spring flowers; snowdrops, crocuses, violets, and hepaticas +were in full bloom.</p> + +<p>Before this house Christie began to play. He could hardly have told you +why he chose it; perhaps he had no reason for doing so, except that it +had such a pretty garden in front, and Christie always loved flowers. +His mother had once bought him a penny bunch of spring flowers, which, +after living for many days in a broken bottle, Christie had pressed in +an old spelling-book, and through all his troubles he had never parted +with them.</p> + +<p>And thus, before the house with the pretty garden, Christie began to +play. He had not turned the handle of the organ three times, before two +merry little faces appeared at a window at the top of the house, and +watched him with lively interest. They put their heads out of the window +as far as the protecting bars would allow them, and Christie could hear +all they said.</p> + +<p>"Look at him," said a little girl, who seemed to be about five years +old; "doesn't he turn it nicely, Charlie?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he does," said Charlie, "and what a pretty tune he's playing!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the little girl, "it's so cheerful. Isn't it, nurse?" she +added, turning round to the girl who was holding her by the waist, to +prevent her falling out of the window. Mabel had heard her papa make a +similar remark to her mamma the night before, when she had been playing +a piece of music to him for the first time, and she therefore thought it +was the correct way to express her admiration of Christie's tune.</p> + +<p>But the tune happened to be "Poor Mary Ann," the words of which the +nurse knows very well indeed. And as Mary Ann was nurse's own name, she +had grown quite sentimental whilst Christie was playing it, and had been +wondering whether John Brown, the grocer's young man, who had promised +to be faithful to her for ever and ever more, would ever behave to her +as poor Mary Ann's lover did, and leave her to die forlorn. Thus she +could not quite agree with Miss Mabel's remark, that "Poor Mary Ann" was +so cheerful, and she seemed rather relieved when the tune changed to +"Rule Britannia." But when "Rule Britannia" was finished, and the organ +began "Home, sweet Home," the children fairly screamed with delight; for +their mother had often sung it to them, and they recognized it as an old +favorite; and with their pretty, childish voices, they joined in the +chorus: "Home, sweet home, there's no place like home, there's no place +like home." And as poor Christie looked up at them, it seemed to him +that they, at least, <i>did</i> know something of what they sang.</p> + +<p>"Why have not I a nice home?" he wondered. But the children had run away +from the window, and scampered downstairs to ask their mamma for some +money for the poor organ-boy. A minute afterwards two pennies were +thrown to Christie from the nursery window. They fell down into the +middle of a bed of pure white snowdrops, and Christie had to open the +garden gate, and walk cautiously over the grass to pick them up. But for +some time he could not find them, for they were hidden by the flowers; +so the children ran downstairs again to help him. At last the pennies +were discovered, and Christie took off his hat and made a low bow, as +they presented them to him. He put the money in his pocket, and looked +down lovingly on the snowdrops.</p> + +<p>"They <i>are</i> pretty flowers, missie," he said.</p> + +<p>"Would you like one, organ-boy?" asked Mabel, standing on tip-toe, and +looking into Christie's face.</p> + +<p>"Could you spare one?" said Christie, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"I'll ask mamma," said Mabel, and she ran into the house.</p> + +<p>"I'm to gather four," she said, when she came back; "organ-boy, you +shall choose."</p> + +<p>It was a weighty matter selecting the flowers; and then the four +snowdrops were tied together and given to Christie.</p> + +<p>"My mother once gave me some like these, missie," he said.</p> + +<p>"Does she never give you any now?" said Mabel.</p> + +<p>"No, missie, she's dead," said Christie, mournfully.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said little Mabel, in a sorrowful, pitying voice, "poor organ-boy, +poor organ-boy!"</p> + +<p>Christie now put his organ on his back and prepared to depart.</p> + +<p>"Ask him what his name is," whispered Mabel to Charlie.</p> + +<p>"No, no; you ask him."</p> + +<p>"<i>Please</i>, Charlie, ask him," said Mabel again.</p> + +<p>"What is your name, organ-boy?" said Charlie, shyly.</p> + +<p>Christie told them his name, and as he went down the road he heard their +voices calling after him:—</p> + +<p>"Come again, Christie; come again another day, Christie; come again +soon, Christie."</p> + +<p>The snowdrops were very faded and withered when Christie reached the +attic that night. He tried to revive them in water, but they would not +look fresh again; so he laid them to rest beside his mother's faded +flowers in the old spelling-book.</p> + +<p>Christie was not long in repeating his visit to the suburban road, but +this time, though he played his four tunes twice through and lingered +regretfully over "Home, sweet Home," he saw nothing of the children, and +received neither smiles nor snowdrops. For Mabel and Charlie had gone +for a long country walk with their nurse, and were far away from the +sound of poor Christie's organ.</p> + +<p>Treffy was still unable to get out, and he grew rather fretful +sometimes, even with Christie. It was very dull for him sitting alone +all day; and he had nothing to comfort him, not even his old friend the +organ. And when Christie came home at night, if the store of pence was +not so large as usual, poor old Treffy would sigh and moan, and wish he +could get about again, and take his old organ out as before.</p> + +<p>But Christie bore it very patiently, for he loved his old master more +than he had loved any one since his mother died; and love can bear many +things. Still, he did wish he could find some one or something to +comfort Treffy, and to make him better.</p> + +<p>"Master Treffy," he said one night, "shall I fetch the doctor to you?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, Christie, boy," said Treffy; "let me be, let me be."</p> + +<p>But Christie was not to be so easily put off. What if Treffy should die, +and leave him alone in the world again? The little attic, dismal though +it was, had been a home to Christie, and it had been good to have some +one to love him once again. He would be very, very lonely if Treffy +died; and the old man was growing very thin and pale, and his hands were +very trembling and feeble; he could scarcely turn the old organ now. And +Christie had heard of old people "breaking up," as it is called, and +then going off suddenly; and he began to be very much afraid old Treffy +would do the same. He <i>must</i> get some one to come and see his old +master.</p> + +<p>The landlady of the house had fallen downstairs and broken her arm. A +doctor came to see <i>her</i>, Christie knew; oh, if he would only step +upstairs and look at old Treffy! It was such a little way from the +landlady's room to the attic, and it would only take him a few minutes. +And then Christie could ask him what was the matter with the old man, +and whether old Treffy would get better.</p> + +<p>These thoughts kept Christie awake a long time that night; he turned +restlessly on his pillow, and felt very troubled and anxious. The +moonlight streamed into the room, and fell on old Treffy's face as he +lay on his bed in the corner. Christie raised himself on his elbow, and +looked at him. Yes, he <i>did</i> look very wasted and ill. Oh, how he hoped +Treffy would not go away, as his mother had done, and leave him behind!</p> + +<p>And Christie cried himself to sleep that night.</p> + +<p>The next day he watched about on the stairs till the landlady's doctor +came. Old Treffy thought him very idle because he would not go out with +the organ; but Christie put him off with first one excuse and then +another, and kept looking out of the window and down the court, that he +might see the doctor's carriage stop at the entrance.</p> + +<p>When at last the doctor came, Christie watched him go into the +landlady's room and sat at the door till he came out. He shut the door +quickly after him, and was running down the steps, when he heard an +eager voice calling after him.</p> + +<p>"Please, sir, please, sir," said Christie.</p> + +<p>"Well, my boy, what do you want?" said the doctor.</p> + +<p>"Please, sir—don't be cross, sir, but if you <i>would</i> walk upstairs a +minute into the attic, sir; it's old Treffy, and he's ever so poorly."</p> + +<p>"Who <i>is</i> old Treffy?" asked the doctor.</p> + +<p>"He's my old master; that's to say, he takes care of me,—at least it's +me that takes care of him, please, sir."</p> + +<p>The doctor did not quite know what to make of this lucid explanation. +However, he turned round and began slowly to ascend the attic stairs.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with him?" he asked kindly.</p> + +<p>"That's what I want to know, sir," said Christie; "he's a very old man, +sir, and I'm afraid he won't live long, and I want to know, please. But +I'd better go in first, please, sir; Master Treffy doesn't know you're +coming."</p> + +<p>"Master Treffy," said Christie, walking bravely into the room, "here's +the landlady's doctor come to see you."</p> + +<p>And to Christie's great joy, old Treffy made no objection, but submitted +very patiently and gently to the doctor's investigation, without even +asking who had sent him. And then the doctor took leave, promising to +send some medicine in the morning, and walked out into the close court. +He was just getting into his carriage, when he felt a little cold hand +on his arm.</p> + +<p>"Please, sir, how much is it?" said Christie's voice.</p> + +<p>"How much is what?" asked the doctor.</p> + +<p>"How much is it for coming to see poor old Treffy, sir? I've got a few +coppers here, sir," said Christie, bringing them out of his pocket; +"will these be enough, sir? or, if not, sir, I'll bring some more to +your house to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said the doctor, smiling, "you may keep your money, boy; I won't +take your last penny, and when I come to see Mrs. White I'll give a look +at the old man again."</p> + +<p>Christie looked, but did not speak his thanks.</p> + +<p>"Please, sir, what do you think of Master Treffy?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"He won't be here very long, boy,—perhaps another month or so," said +the doctor as he drove away.</p> + +<p>"A month or so! only a month!" said Christie to himself, as he walked +slowly back, with a dead weight on his soul. A month more with his dear +old master,—only another month, only another month. And in the minute +which passed before Christie reached the attic, he saw, as in a +sorrowful picture, what life would be to him without old Treffy. He +would have no home, not even the old attic; he would have no friend. <i>No +home, no friend; no home, no friend!</i> that would be his sorrow. And only +another month before it came! only another month!</p> + +<p>It was with a dull, heavy heart that Christie opened the attic door.</p> + +<p>"Christie, boy," said old Treffy's voice; "what did the doctor say?"</p> + +<p>"He said you had only another month, Master Treffy," sobbed Christie, +"only another month; and whatever shall I do without you?"</p> + +<p>Treffy did not speak; it was a solemn thing to be told he had only +another month to live; that in another month he must leave Christie, and +the attic, and the old organ, and go—he knew not whither. It was a +solemn, searching thought for old Treffy.</p> + +<p>He spoke very little all day. Christie stayed at home, for he had not +heart enough to take the organ out that sorrowful day; and he watched +old Treffy very gently and mournfully. <i>Only another month! only another +month!</i> was ringing in the ears of both.</p> + +<p>But when the evening came on, and there was no light in the room but +what came from the handful of fire in the grate, old Treffy began to +talk.</p> + +<p>"Christie," he said, uneasily, "where am I going? Where shall I be in a +month, Christie?"</p> + +<p>Christie gazed into the fire thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"My mother talked about heaven, Master Treffy; and she said she was +going home. 'Home, sweet home,' that was the last thing she sang. I +expect that 'Home, sweet home,' is somewhere in heaven, Master Treffy; I +expect so. It's a good place, so my mother said."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said old Treffy, "I suppose it is; but I can't help thinking I +shall be very strange there, Christie, very strange indeed. I know so +little about it, so very little, Christie, boy."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Christie, "and I don't know much."</p> + +<p>"And I don't know any one there, Christie; you won't be there, nor any +one that I know; and I shall have to leave my poor old organ; you don't +suppose they'll have any barrel-organs there, will they, Christie?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Christie, "I never heard my mother speak of any; I think she +said they played on harps in heaven."</p> + +<p>"I shan't like that <i>half</i> so well," said old Treffy, sorrowfully; "I +don't know how I shall pass my time."</p> + +<p>Christie did not know what to say to this, so he made no answer.</p> + +<p>"Christie, boy," said old Treffy, suddenly, "I want you to make out +about heaven, I want you to find out all about it for me; maybe, I +shouldn't feel so strange there if I knew what I was going to; and your +mother called it 'Home, sweet home,' didn't she, Christie?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Christie, "I'm almost sure it was heaven she meant."</p> + +<p>"Now, Christie, boy, mind you make out," said Treffy, earnestly; "and +remember there's only another month! only another month!"</p> + +<p>"I'll do my best, Master Treffy," said Christie, "I'll do my very best."</p> + +<p>And Christie kept his word.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<h3>MABEL'S FIRST LESSON IN ORGAN-GRINDING.</h3> + + +<p>The next day Christie had to go out as usual. Old Treffy seemed no worse +than before,—he was able to sit up, and Christie opened the small +window before he went out to let a breath of fresh air into the close +attic. But there was very little fresh air anywhere that day. The +atmosphere was heavy and stifling, and poor Christie's heart felt +depressed and weary. He turned, he hardly knew why, to the suburban +road, and stopped before the house with the pretty garden. He wanted to +see those merry little faces again,—perhaps they would cheer him; he +felt so very dull to-day.</p> + +<p>Christie was not disappointed this time. He had hardly turned the handle +of the organ twice before Mabel and Charlie appeared at the nursery +window; and, after satisfying themselves that it really <i>was</i> Christie, +their own organ-boy, they ran into the garden, and stood beside him as +he played.</p> + +<p>"Doesn't he turn it nicely?" whispered Charlie to his sister.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said little Mabel; "I wish I had an organ, don't you, Charlie?"</p> + +<p>"Shall I ask papa to buy us one?" asked her brother.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, Charlie, if mamma would like it always," said Mabel. "She +has such bad headaches, you know."</p> + +<p>"Well; but up in the nursery she would hardly hear it, I'm sure," said +Charlie, regretfully.</p> + +<p>"I <i>should</i> so like to turn it," said Mabel, shyly looking up into +Christie's face.</p> + +<p>"All right, missie; come here," said Christie.</p> + +<p>And standing on tip-toe at his side, little Mabel took hold of the +handle of the organ with her tiny white hand. Very slowly and carefully +she turned it, so slowly that her mamma came to the window to see if the +organ-boy had been taken ill.</p> + +<p>It was a pretty sight which that young mother looked upon. The little +fair, delicate child, in her light summer dress, turning the handle of +the old, faded barrel-organ, and the organ-boy standing by, watching her +with admiring eyes. Then little Mabel looked up, and saw her mother's +face at the window, and smiled and nodded to her, delighted to find that +she was watching. And then Mabel went on playing with a happy +consciousness that mother was listening. For there was no one in the +world that little Mabel loved so much as her mother.</p> + +<p>But Mabel turned so slowly that she grew tired of the melancholy wails +of "Poor Mary Ann."</p> + +<p>"Change it, please, organ-boy," she said; "make it play 'Home, sweet +Home;' mother <i>does</i> like that so."</p> + +<p>But Christie knew that "Rule Britannia" lay between them and "Home, +sweet Home;" he took the handle from Mabel, and saying, brightly, "All +right, missie, I'll make it come as quick as I can," he turned it round +so fast, that if old Treffy had been within hearing, he would certainly +have died from fright about his dear old organ long before the month was +over. Several people in the opposite houses came to their windows to +look out; they thought the organ must be possessed with some evil +spirit, so slowly did it go one minute, so quickly the next.</p> + +<p>But they understood how it was a minute afterwards when little Mabel +again began to turn, and very slowly and deliberately the first notes of +"Home, sweet Home," was sounded forth. She turned the handle of the +organ until "Home, sweet Home," was quite finished, and then, with a +sigh of satisfaction, she gave it up to Christie.</p> + +<p>"I like 'Home, sweet Home,'" she said; "it's such a pretty tune."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Christie, "it's my favorite, missie. Where is 'Home, sweet +Home'?" he asked suddenly, as he remembered his promise to old Treffy.</p> + +<p>"That's <i>my</i> home," said little Mabel, nodding her head in the direction +of the pretty house. "I don't know where yours is, Christie."</p> + +<p>"I haven't much of a place to call home, missie," said Christie; "me and +old Treffy, we live together in an old attic, and that won't be for +long,—only another month, Miss Mabel, and I shall have no home then."</p> + +<p>"Poor organ-boy,—poor Christie!" said little Mabel, in a pitying voice.</p> + +<p>Charlie had taken the handle of the organ now, and was rejoicing in +"Poor Mary Ann;" but Mabel hardly listened to him; she was thinking of +the poor boy who had no home but an attic, and who soon would have no +home at all.</p> + +<p>"There's another home somewhere," said Christie, "isn't there, missie? +Isn't heaven some sort of a home?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, there's heaven," said little Mabel, brightly; "you'll have a +home <i>there</i>, won't you, organ-boy?"</p> + +<p>"Where is heaven?" said Christie.</p> + +<p>"It's up there," said little Mabel, pointing up to the sky; "up so high, +Christie. The little stars live in heaven; I used to think they were the +angels' eyes, but nurse says it's silly to think that."</p> + +<p>"I like the stars," said Christie.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mabel, "so do I; and you'll see them all when you go to +heaven, Christie, I'm sure you will."</p> + +<p>"What is heaven like, Miss Mabel?" asked Christie.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's so nice," said little Mabel; "they have white dresses on, and +the streets are all gold, Christie, all gold and shining. And Jesus is +there, Christie; wouldn't you like to see Jesus?" she added, in a +whisper.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Christie, in a bewildered tone; "I don't know much +about Him."</p> + +<p>"Don't you love Jesus, Christie?" said Mabel, with a very grave, +sorrowful face, and with tears in her large brown eyes, "Oh, organ-boy, +don't you love Jesus?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Christie; "I know so little about Him, Miss Mabel."</p> + +<p>"But you can't go to heaven if you don't love Jesus, Christie. Oh! I'm +so sorry,—you won't have a home at all; what <i>will</i> you do?" and the +tears ran down little Mabel's cheeks.</p> + +<p>But just then the bell rang for dinner, and nurse's voice called the +children in.</p> + +<p>Christie walked on very thoughtfully. He was thinking of little Mabel's +words, and of little Mabel's tears. "You can't go to heaven if you don't +love Jesus," she had said; "and then you won't have a home at all." It +was a new thought for Christie, and a very sad thought. What if he +should never, never know anything of "Home, sweet Home"? And then came +the remembrance of poor old Treffy, his dear old master, who had only +another month to live. Did he love Jesus? He had never heard old Treffy +mention His name; and what if Treffy should die, and never go to heaven +at all, but go to the other place! Christie had heard of hell; he did +not know much about it, and he had always fancied it was for very bad +people. He must tell Treffy about Mabel's words. Perhaps, after all, his +old master did love Jesus. Christie hoped very much that he did. He +longed for evening to come, that he might go home and ask him.</p> + +<p>The afternoon was still more close and sultry than the morning had been, +and little Christie was very weary. The organ was heavy for him at all +times, and it seemed heavier than usual to-day. He was obliged to sit +down to rest for a few minutes on a doorstep in one of the back streets +about half a mile from the court where old Treffy lived. As he was +sitting there, with his organ resting against the wall, two women met +each other just in front of the doorstep, and after asking most +affectionately after each other's health they began to talk, and +Christie could not help hearing every word they said.</p> + +<p>"What's that place?" said one of them, looking across the road at a +long, low building with a board in front of it.</p> + +<p>"Oh; that's our new mission-room, Mrs. West," said the other; "it +belongs to the church at the corner of Melville Street. A young man +comes and preaches there every Sunday night; I like to hear him, I do," +she went on, "he puts it so plain."</p> + +<p>"Puts what plain, Mrs. Smith?" said her friend.</p> + +<p>"Oh, all about heaven, and how we're to get there, and about Jesus and +what He's done for us. He's a kind man, is Mr. Wilton; he came to see +our Tommy when he was badly. Do you know him, Mrs. West?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Mrs. West; "maybe I'll come to-morrow; what time is it?"</p> + +<p>"It begins at seven o'clock every Sunday," said Mrs. Smith; "and you +needn't bother about your clothes, there's no one there but poor folks +like ourselves."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll come, Mrs. Smith. Good day." And the two parted.</p> + +<p>And little Christie had heard all they said, and had firmly made up his +mind to be at the mission-room the next evening at seven o'clock. He +must lose no time in making out what Treffy wanted to know. One day of +the month was gone already.</p> + +<p>"Master Treffy," said Christie, that night "do you love Jesus?"</p> + +<p>"Jesus!" said the old man; "no, Christie, I can't say I do. I suppose I +ought to; good folks do, don't they?"</p> + +<p>"Master Treffy," said Christie, solemnly, "if you don't love Jesus, you +can't go to heaven, and you'll never have a home any more,—never any +more."</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay, Christie, that's true, I'm afraid. When I was a little chap no +bigger than you, I used to hear tell about these things, but I gave no +heed to them then, and I've forgotten all I ever heard. I've been +thinking a deal lately since I was took so bad, and some of it seems to +come back to me. But I can't rightly mind what I was told. It's a bad +job, Christie, a bad job."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<h3>NO SIN IN THE CITY BRIGHT.</h3> + + +<p>It had been a close, sultry day, and it was a still more oppressive +night. It was long before Christie could get to sleep, and when at last +he had sunk into a troubled slumber, he was waked suddenly by a loud +peal of thunder, which made the old attic shake from end to end.</p> + +<p>Old Treffy raised himself in bed, and Christie crept to his side. It was +an awful storm; the lightning flashed into the attic, lighting up for a +moment every corner of it, and showing Christie old Treffy's white and +trembling face. Then all was dark again, and there came the heavy roll +of the thunder, which sounded like the noise of falling houses, and +which made old Treffy shake from head to foot. Christie never remembered +such a storm before, and he was very much afraid. He knelt very close to +his old master, and took hold of his trembling hand.</p> + +<p>"Are you frightened, Master Treffy?" he asked at last, as a vivid flash +again darted into the room.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Christie, boy," said old Treffy; "I don't know how it is; I used +not to be afraid of a storm, but I am to-night."</p> + +<p>Poor Christie did not speak, so Treffy went on:—</p> + +<p>"The lightning seems like God looking at me, Christie, and the thunder +seems like God's voice, and I am afraid of Him. I don't love Him, +Christie; I don't love Him."</p> + +<p>And again the lightning flashed and the thunder rolled, and again old +Treffy shook from head to foot.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't like to die to-night, Christie," he said; "and the +lightning comes so very near me. Christie, boy, do you know what sin +is?" he whispered.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Christie; "it's doing wrong things, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Treffy, "and I've done a many of them, Christie; and it's +thinking bad thoughts, and I've thought a many of them, Christie; and +it's saying bad words, and I've said a many of them, Christie. But I +never cared about it before to-night."</p> + +<p>"How did you come to care about it to-night?" asked Christie.</p> + +<p>"I've had a dream, Christie, boy, and it has made me tremble."</p> + +<p>"Tell me it, Master Treffy," pleaded Christie.</p> + +<p>"I was thinking of what you said about loving Jesus, and I fell asleep, +and I thought I was standing before a beautiful gate; it was made of +gold, Christie, and over the gate there was some shining letters. I +spelt them out, and they were, 'Home, sweet Home,' Christie, and I said +to myself, 'I've found it at last; I wish Christie was here.' But just +then someone opened the gate, and said, 'What do you want, old man?' 'I +want to come in,' I said. 'I'm very tired, and I want to be at home.' +But he shut the gate, and said to me very gravely and sorrowfully, 'No +sin can come in here.' And Christie, I felt as if I was nothing but sin, +so I turned round and walked away, and it grew very dark. And just then +came the thunder, and I awoke; I can't forget it, Christie; I can't +forget it," said old Treffy.</p> + +<p>And still the lightning flashed and the thunder rolled, and still old +Treffy trembled.</p> + +<p>Christie could not comfort him, for he was very much afraid himself; but +he pressed very close up to his side, and did not leave him till the +storm was over, and there was no sound but the heavy downpour of the +rain on the roof of the attic. Then he crept back to bed and fell +asleep.</p> + +<p>The next morning it all seemed like a bad dream. The sun was shining +brightly, and Christie rose and opened the attic window. Every thing +looked fresh and clean after the rain. The dull heavy feeling was gone +out of the air, and the little sparrows were chirping in the eaves. It +was Sunday morning, and on Sunday evening Christie was to hear the +clergyman preach in the mission-room. Oh! how he wished it was seven +o'clock, that he might go and find out what old Treffy wanted to know!</p> + +<p>The poor old man seemed very restless and unhappy all that long spring +day. Christie never left him, for it was only on Sunday that he could +watch beside his dear old master. He could see that old Treffy had not +forgotten his dream, though he did not speak of it again.</p> + +<p>And at last the long, weary day wore away, and at six o'clock Christie +washed himself and prepared to depart.</p> + +<p>"Be sure you mind every word he says, Christie, boy," said old Treffy, +earnestly.</p> + +<p>The mission-room was only just open when little Christie arrived. A +woman was inside lighting the gas and preparing the place for the +congregation. Christie peeped shyly in at the door, and she caught sight +of him and ordered him off.</p> + +<p>"Isn't there going to be any preaching to-night?" said Christie, in a +disappointed voice.</p> + +<p>"Oh! you've come to the service, have you?" said the woman. "All right +you can come in, only you must sit still, and you mustn't talk or make a +noise."</p> + +<p>Now, as poor Christie had no one to talk to, this was rather an +unnecessary speech. However, he went in very meekly, and sat down on one +of the front benches.</p> + +<p>Then the congregation began to arrive; old men and little children; +mothers with babies in their arms; old women with shawls over their +heads; husbands and wives; a few young men; people with all kinds of +faces, and all kinds of characters, from the quiet and respectable +artisan's wife to the poor little beggar girl who sat on the form beside +Christie.</p> + +<p>And, as seven o'clock struck, the door opened and the minister came in. +Christie never took his eyes off him during the whole service. And, oh! +how he enjoyed the singing, the last hymn especially! A young woman +behind him was singing it very distinctly, and he could hear every word. +Oh, if he could only have remembered it to repeat to old Treffy! The +words of the hymn were as follows:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"There is a city bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Closed are its gates to sin,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nought that defileth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nought that defileth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can ever enter in.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Saviour, I come to Thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Lamb of God, I pray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cleanse me and save me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cleanse me and save me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wash all my sins away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lord, make me from this hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy loving child to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Kept by Thy power,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Kept by Thy power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From all that grieveth Thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Till in the snowy dress<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Thy redeemed I stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Faultless and stainless,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Faultless and stainless,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Safe in that happy land!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And after the hymn came the sermon. The clergyman's text was Revelation +21:27: "There shall in no wise enter into it any thing that defileth."</p> + +<p>He spoke of the Heavenly City of which they had just been singing, the +bright, beautiful city, with its streets of gold and gates of pearl. He +spoke of the river of the water of life, and the trees on either side of +the river. He spoke of those who live in that happy place, of their +white robes and crowns of gold, of the sweet songs they ever sing, and +the joy in all their faces.</p> + +<p>The clergyman also told them that in that bright city sorrow was never +found. No weeping there, no tears, no sighs, no trouble. No tired feet +on that golden pavement, no hungry ones there, no hot burning sun, no +cold frost or snow. No sickness there, and no death, no funerals in +heaven, no graves in the golden city. Perfect love there, no more +quarreling or strife, no angry tones or discordant murmurs, no rude, +rough voices to disturb the peace. And all this for ever and ever, no +dread of it coming to an end, no gloomy fears for the future, no +partings there, no good-byes. Once there, safe for ever. At home, at +rest, with God.</p> + +<p>"Would you like to go there?" asked the clergyman's voice.</p> + +<p>And a quiet murmur passed through the room, a sigh of longing, an +expression of assent. And little Christie whispered softly to himself, +"Like to go there! ay, that I would, me and old Treffy and all."</p> + +<p>"'There shall in no wise enter into it anything that defileth,'" said +the clergyman's voice. "'Closed are its gates to sin.' My friends, if +there is <i>one</i> sin on your soul, heaven's gates will be closed against +you. 'Nought that defileth, nought that defileth, can ever enter in.' If +all my life I had never sinned; if all my life I had never done a wicked +deed, or spoken a wicked word, or thought a wicked thought; if all my +life I had done every thing I ought to have done, and had been perfectly +sinless and holy, and yet to-night I was to commit <i>one</i> sin, that sin, +however small a sin in man's eyes,—<i>that</i> sin would be quite enough to +shut me out of heaven. The gates would be shut against me for that one +sin. No soul on which there is a speck of sin can go into that bright +city.</p> + +<p>"Is there one in this room," asked the clergyman, "who can say that he +has only sinned once? Is there one here who can say that there is only +<i>one</i> sin on his soul?"</p> + +<p>And again there was a faint murmur round the room, and again a +deep-drawn sigh; but this time it was the suppressed sigh of accusing +consciences.</p> + +<p>"No," said the clergyman, "there is not one of us who can say that. +Every one of us has sinned again and again and again. And each sin is +like a dark blot, a deep ink-stain on the soul."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said little Christie, in his heart, as he listened to these words, +"whatever will me and Master Treffy do?"</p> + +<p>And Christie's thoughts wandered to the lonely attic and to old Treffy's +sad, worn-out face. "So it was all true," he said to himself. "Miss +Mabel's words, and Master Treffy's dream; all too true, all too true."</p> + +<p>If Christie had been listening, he would have heard the clergyman tell +of the way in which sin could be taken away; but his little mind was +full of the one idea of the sermon, and when he next heard the +clergyman's words he was telling his congregation that he hoped they +would all be present on the following Sunday evening, as he intended +then to preach on the second verse of the hymn, and to tell them, more +fully than he had time to do to-night, what was the only way to enter +within the gates into the city.</p> + +<p>Christie walked home very sadly and sorrowly; he was in no haste to meet +old Treffy's anxious, inquiring eyes. And when he reached the dark attic +he sat down by Treffy, and looked away from him into the fire, as he +said, mournfully:—</p> + +<p>"Your dream was quite right, Master Treffy. I've heard it all over again +to-night. He preached about it, and we sang about it, so there's no +mistake now."</p> + +<p>"Tell me all, Christie, boy," said Treffy, pitifully.</p> + +<p>"It's a beautiful place, Master Treffy," said Christie; "you'd be ever +so happy and comfortable if you could only get there. But there's no sin +allowed inside the gates; that's what the clergyman, said, and what the +hymn said too:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'There is a city bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Closed are its gates to sin.'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Then there's no chance for me, Christie," said the old man, "no chance +for me."</p> + +<p>And hours after that, when Christie thought Treffy was fast asleep on +his bed in the corner, he heard his poor old trembling voice murmuring +again and again: "Closed are its gates to sin, closed are its gates to +sin."</p> + +<p>And there was another ear listening to old Treffy's voice. The man at +the gate, of whom Bunyan writes, had heard the old man's sorrowful wail, +and it went to his very heart. He knew all about old Treffy, and he was +soon to say to him, with tones of love, as he opened the gate of rest: +"I am willing with all my heart to let thee in."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<h3>THE ONLY WAY INTO "HOME, SWEET HOME."</h3> + + +<p>That week was a very long and sorrowful one to Treffy and to Christie. +The old man seldom spoke, except to murmur the sad words of the hymn, or +to say to Christie in a despairing voice,—</p> + +<p>"It's all up with me, Christie, boy; no home for me."</p> + +<p>The barrel-organ was quite neglected by Treffy. Christie took it out in +the daytime, but at night it stood against the wall untouched. Treffy +could not bear to hear it now. Christie had begun to turn it one +evening, but the first tune it had played was "Home, sweet Home," and +Treffy had said bitterly,—</p> + +<p>"Don't play that, Christie, boy; there's no 'Home, sweet home,' for me; +I shall never have a home again, never again."</p> + +<p>So Treffy had nothing to comfort him. Even his old organ seemed to have +taken part against him; even his dear old organ, which he had loved so +much, had helped to make him more miserable.</p> + +<p>The doctor had looked into the attic again according to his promise, but +he said there was nothing to be done for Treffy; it was only a question +of time, no medicine could save his life.</p> + +<p>It was a very terrible thing for old Treffy thus to be slipping away, +each day the chain of his life becoming looser and looser, and he +drawing nearer each day to—he knew not what.</p> + +<p>Treffy and Christie were counting anxiously the days to Sunday, when +they would hear about the second verse of the hymn. Perhaps after all +there might be some hope, some way into the bright city, some entrance +into "Home, sweet Home," through which even old Treffy's sin-stained +soul might pass.</p> + +<p>And at last Sunday came. It was a wet, rainy night, the wind was high +and stormy, and the little congregation in the mission-room was smaller +than usual. But there was an earnest purpose in the faces of many who +came, and the clergyman, as he looked round at the little company when +he gave out his text, felt that many of them had not come from mere +curiosity, but from an honest desire to hear the Word of God. And he +lifted up his heart in very earnest prayer, that to many in that room +the Word which he was about to speak might be a lasting blessing.</p> + +<p>The mission-room was very still when the minister gave out his text. +Little Christie's eyes were fixed intently on him, and he listened +eagerly for every word.</p> + +<p>The text was this: "The blood of Jesus Christ, His Son, cleanseth us +from all sin."</p> + +<p>The clergyman first reminded them of his last Sunday's sermon, of the +bright golden city where they all longed to be. He reminded them of the +first verse of the hymn:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"There is a city bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Closed are its gates to sin."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And then he asked very gently and tenderly, "Is there any one in this +room who has come here to-night longing to know of some way in which he, +a sinner, can enter the city? Is there such an one here?"</p> + +<p>"Ay," said little Christie under his breath; "there's me."</p> + +<p>"I will try, by God's help, to show you the way," said the clergyman. +"You and I have sinned. One sin is enough to shut us out of heaven, but +we have sinned not only once, but hundreds of thousands of times; our +souls are covered with sin stains. But there is one thing, and only one, +by which the soul can be made white and clear and pure. My text tells us +what it is,—'The blood of Jesus Christ.'"</p> + +<p>Then the clergyman went on to explain how it is that the blood of Jesus +can wash out sin. He spoke of the death of Jesus on Calvary, of the +fountain He opened there for sin and for uncleanness. He explained to +them that Jesus was God's Son, and that therefore His blood which He +shed on the cross is of infinite value. He told them that, since that +day on Calvary, thousands had come to the fountain, and each one had +come out of it whiter than snow, every spot of sin gone.</p> + +<p>The clergyman told them, that when these washed ones reached the gates +of pearl, they were thrown wide open to them, for there was no sin-mark +on their souls, they were free from sin. And then he looked very +earnestly indeed, and leaning forward he pleaded with his little +congregation to come to the blood that they might be washed and +cleansed. He begged them to use the second verse of the hymn, and to say +from the bottom of their hearts:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Saviour, I come to Thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Lamb of God, I pray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cleanse me and save me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cleanse me and save me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wash all my sins away."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"There is one little word in my text," said the minister, "which is a +great comfort to me. I mean the word <i>all</i>. All sin. That takes in every +bad word, every bad thought, every bad action. That takes in the +blackest blot, the darkest stain, the deepest spot. All sin, each sin, +every sin. No sin too bad for the blood to reach, no sin too great for +the blood to cover. And now," said the minister, "every soul in this +room is either saved or unsaved, either washed or not washed.</p> + +<p>"Let me ask you, my dear friends, a very solemn question: Is the sin or +the blood on your soul? One or the other must be there. Which is it?"</p> + +<p>The clergyman paused a moment when he had asked this question, and the +room was so still that a falling pin might have been heard. There were +deep searchings of heart in that little company. And Christie was saying +deep down in his heart:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">"Cleanse me and save me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cleanse me and save me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wash all my sins away."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The minister finished his sermon by entreating them all that very night +to come to the fountain. Oh, how earnestly he pleaded with them to delay +no longer, but to say at once, "Saviour, I come to Thee." He begged them +to go home, and in their own rooms to kneel down, feeling that Jesus was +standing close beside them. "That is <i>coming</i> to Jesus," the minister +said. He told them to tell Jesus all, to turn all the sin over to Him, +to ask Him to cover it all with His blood, so that that very night they +might lie down to sleep whiter than snow.</p> + +<p>"Will you do this?" asked the clergyman, anxiously; "will you?"</p> + +<p>And little Christie said in his heart, "Yes, that I will."</p> + +<p>As the congregation left, the clergyman stood at the door, and gave a +friendly word to each one as they passed by. He looked very tired and +anxious after his sermon. It had been preached with much prayer and with +much feeling, and he was longing, oh, so earnestly, to know that it had +been blessed to one soul.</p> + +<p>There were some amongst the little congregation who passed by him with +serious, thoughtful faces, and as each one went by he breathed an +earnest prayer that the seed in that soul might spring up and bring +forth fruit. But there were others again who had already begun to talk +to their neighbors, and who seemed to have forgotten all they had heard. +And these filled the young minister's heart with sorrow. "Is the seed +lost, dear Lord?" he said, faithlessly. For he was very tired and weary; +and when the body is weak, our faith is apt to grow weak also.</p> + +<p>But there was something in Christie's face as he passed out of the room +which made the clergyman call him back and speak to him. He had noticed +the boy's attention during the sermon, and he longed to hear whether he +had understood what he had heard.</p> + +<p>"My boy," said the minister kindly, laying his hand on Christie's +shoulder, "can you tell me what my text was to-night?"</p> + +<p>Christie repeated it very correctly, and the clergyman seemed pleased. +He asked Christie several more questions about the sermon, and then he +encouraged the boy to talk to him. Christie told him of old Treffy, who +had only another month to live, and who was longing to know how he might +go to "Home, sweet Home." The clergyman promised to come and see him, +and wrote down the name of the court and the number of the house in his +little brown pocket-book. And before Christie went home the clergyman +knelt down with him in the empty mission-room, and prayed that that very +night the dear Lord would wash Christie's soul in His most precious +blood.</p> + +<p>Christie walked away very thoughtfully, but still very gladly, for he +had good news for old Treffy to-night. He quickened his steps as he drew +near the court, and he ran up the stairs to the attic, eager to tell all +to the poor old man.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Master Treffy!" said Christie; "I've had such a time! It was +beautiful, Master Treffy, and the clergyman's been talking to me, and +he's coming to see you; he's coming here," said Christie triumphantly.</p> + +<p>But Treffy was longing for better news than this.</p> + +<p>"What about 'Home, sweet Home,' Christie?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"There <i>is</i> a way, Master Treffy," said Christie. "You and me can't get +in with our sins, but 'The blood of Jesus Christ, God's Son, cleanseth +us from all sin.' That's in the Bible, Master Treffy, and it was the +clergyman's text."</p> + +<p>"Tell me all about it, Christie," Treffy said, in a tremulous voice.</p> + +<p>"There's nothing but the blood of Jesus can wash away the sin, Master +Treffy," said Christie, "and you and me have just got to go to Him and +ask Him, and He'll do it for us to-night; the clergyman said so. I've +learnt another verse of the hymn, Master Treffy," said Christie, +kneeling down beside him and repeating it reverently:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Saviour, I come to Thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Lamb of God, I pray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cleanse me and save me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cleanse me and save me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wash all my sins away."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Treffy repeated the words after him in a trembling voice.</p> + +<p>"I wish He'd wash me, Christie, boy," he said.</p> + +<p>"So He will, Master Treffy," said Christie; "He never sends anybody +away."</p> + +<p>"Ay, but I'm an old man, Christie, and I've been a sinner all my life, +and I've done some such bad things, Christie. I never knew it till this +last week, but I know it now. It's not likely He'll ever wash my sins; +they're ever such big ones, Christie."</p> + +<p>"Oh! but He will," said Christie, eagerly; "that's just what the +clergyman said; there's a word in the text for you, Master Treffy: 'The +blood of Jesus Christ, His Son, cleanseth us from <i>all</i> sin.' All sin, +all sin, Master Treffy; won't that do?"</p> + +<p>"All sin," murmured old Treffy; "all sin! yes, Christie, I think that +<i>will</i> do."</p> + +<p>There was a pause after this. Christie sat still, looking into the fire. +Then he said suddenly,—</p> + +<p>"Master Treffy, let's go right away now and ask Him."</p> + +<p>"Ask who?" said old Treffy, "the clergyman?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Christie, "the Lord Jesus. He's in the room,—the minister +said He was. Let's ask Him to wash you and me, just now, Master Treffy."</p> + +<p>"Ay!" said old Treffy, "let's ask Him, Christie." So the old man and the +boy knelt down, and, with a strong realization of the Lord's near +presence, little Christie prayed:—</p> + +<p>"O Lord Jesus, we come to Thee, me and Master Treffy: we've got lots of +sins to be washed, but the minister said you wouldn't send us away, and +the text says <i>all</i> sin. We think it means us, Lord Jesus, me and Master +Treffy. Please wash us white; we want to go to 'Home, sweet Home:' +please wash us in the blood to-night. Amen."</p> + +<p>Then old Treffy took up the words, and in a trembling voice added,—</p> + +<p>"Amen, Lord; wash us both, me and Christie, wash us white. Please do. +Amen."</p> + +<p>And then they got up from their knees, and Christie said,—</p> + +<p>"We may go to bed now, Master Treffy, for I'm sure He's done it for us."</p> + +<p>Thus the man at the gate had received both the trembling old man and the +little child, and as they had entered in they had heard a gracious voice +very deep down in their hearts, saying to each of them again and again, +"Be of good cheer, thy sins are forgiven thee."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<h3>LITTLE MABEL'S SNOWDROPS.</h3> + + +<p>The next morning Christie woke with a happy heart, for he remembered his +last night's prayer, and in his simple faith he had taken the Lord at +His word, and had believed that the blood of Jesus Christ had cleansed +him from all sin.</p> + +<p>But old Treffy's doubts and fears came back again. He began to look +within, and the remembrance of his sin returned upon him. What if, after +all, there was sin on his soul? What if the gates were still closed +against him?</p> + +<p>"Christie, boy, I don't feel it's all right with me yet," he said +anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Why not, Master Treffy?" asked Christie.</p> + +<p>"Why, I've been so bad, Christie; it doesn't seem likely He'd do it for +me so soon as that; there's such a deal of sin on my soul."</p> + +<p>"But you asked Him to wash you, Master Treffy; didn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, I asked Him, Christie," said Treffy, in a despairing tone.</p> + +<p>"And He said He would if you asked Him, Master Treffy; didn't He?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, Christie, I believe He did," said Treffy.</p> + +<p>"Then of course He <i>has</i> done it," said Christie.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, Christie, boy; I can't feel it," said old Treffy +pitifully. "I don't seem to see it as I ought."</p> + +<p>So, whilst Christie was walking in the sunshine, Old Treffy was still +groping on in the shadow, sometimes hoping, sometimes fearing, but never +trusting.</p> + +<p>Christie paid another visit to the suburban road that week. Little Mabel +and her mother were coming out of the house when Christie reached the +gate. The little girl ran eagerly forward when she caught sight of the +organ and begged her mamma to stay whilst she turned the handle just six +times!</p> + +<p>The lady spoke very kindly to Christie; she asked him several questions, +and he told her about old Treffy, how ill he was, and how he had not +another month to live. The tears were in the lady's eyes, and she asked +Christie where he lived, and wrote it down on a white tablet which she +carried in her pocket.</p> + +<p>"Mamma," said little Mabel, "I want to whisper something to you."</p> + +<p>The lady bent down her head to listen, and then said kindly,—</p> + +<p>"Yes, if you like."</p> + +<p>Mabel darted into the house, and returned with a large bunch of single +white snowdrops, prettily arranged with sprigs of dark myrtle leaves. +Very white, and pure, and lovely they looked.</p> + +<p>"Here, organ-boy," said Mabel, as she put them into his hands, "these +are my own dear snowdrops; Aunt Helen gave me them, and you must take +them to Master Treffy, he'll like them, won't he?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Ay! that he will, missie," said Christie, warmly.</p> + +<p>"Mabel," said her mother, "you must teach Christie the little prayer I +told you always to say when you looked at the snowdrops."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mabel, "I will. This is it, Christie: 'Wash me, and I shall +be whiter than snow.'"</p> + +<p>Christie looked up brightly.</p> + +<p>"Will you say that prayer, Christie?" asked the lady, kindly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am," said Christie; "it's just like what me and Master Treffy +said last night:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">'Cleanse me and save me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cleanse me and save me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wash all my sins away.'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The lady smiled when Christie said this, and seemed very pleased.</p> + +<p>"I am so glad you know of the only way to be washed white," said the +lady. "These snowdrops always make me think of the souls washed white in +the blood of Jesus."</p> + +<p>Then the lady and little Mabel passed on, and Christie looked down very +tenderly on the flowers. How he <i>would</i> love them now! He turned his +steps homewards at once, for he did not want the snowdrops to fade +before they reached old Treffy. How fair, and clean, and pure they +looked! So different to the smoke and dirt of the noisy court. Christie +was almost afraid lest the thick air might soil them as he carried them +through it. Some of the children ran after him and begged for a flower, +but he guarded his treasures very carefully till he reached the attic.</p> + +<p>And when Christie opened the door, who should be there but the +clergyman, sitting beside old Treffy, and talking to him very earnestly! +He stopped to give Christie a kind word, and then he went on with what +he was saying. He was telling Treffy about the death of Jesus, and how +it is that the blood of Jesus can wash away all sin.</p> + +<p>"I can't see that it's all right with me," said Treffy, in a trembling +voice; "it seems dark and dim to me yet. I don't feel that I've got it; +I can't feel happy."</p> + +<p>"Treffy," said the clergyman, suddenly, "do you think I would tell you a +lie?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir," said old Treffy; "I'm sure you wouldn't; I could see it in +your face, sir, if nowhere else. No, sir, I'd trust you anywhere."</p> + +<p>"Now, Treffy," said the clergyman, taking a half-crown from his pocket, +"I've brought this for you. You cannot work now, and you need many +things you cannot get; I will give you this money to buy them with."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir," said old Treffy, the tears running down his cheeks; "I +can never thank you enough. We are very badly off just now, Christie and +me."</p> + +<p>"Stop, Treffy," said the clergyman, "it isn't yours yet, you must take +it."</p> + +<p>Treffy put out his trembling old hand, and took the half-crown, with +another murmur of thanks.</p> + +<p>"Do you feel that you've got it, Treffy?" said the clergyman.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, it's here," said old Treffy.</p> + +<p>"Are you sure you've got it, Treffy?" said the clergyman again.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said Treffy, in a bewildered voice, "I know I have; I don't +know what you mean, sir."</p> + +<p>"I will tell you what I mean," said the clergyman. "The dear Lord Jesus +has come into this room just as I have, Treffy. He has brought a gift +for you, just as I did. His gift has cost Him far more than mine cost +me; it has cost Him His life. He has come close to you, as I came, and +He says to you, as I said: 'Old Treffy, can you trust Me? do you think I +would tell you a lie?' And then He holds out His gift, as I did, Treffy, +and He says, 'Take it; it is for you.' Now, Treffy, what have you to do +with this gift? Just exactly what you did with mine. You have not to +work for it, or wait for it. You have just to put out your hand and take +it. Do you know what the gift is?"</p> + +<p>Treffy did not answer, so the clergyman went on:—</p> + +<p>"It is the forgiveness of your sin, Treffy; it is the clean heart, for +which you are longing; it is the right to enter into 'Home, sweet Home,' +for which you have been praying, Treffy; will you take the gift?"</p> + +<p>"I want to take it," said old Treffy, "but I don't know how."</p> + +<p>"Did you stop to think <i>how</i> you were to take <i>my</i> gift, Treffy?"</p> + +<p>"No," said the old man, "I just took it."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the clergyman, "exactly; and that is what you must do with +the Lord's gift; you must just take it."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="c100" id="c100"></a> +<img src="images/c100.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3>Christie and Master Treffy.</h3> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Would it have pleased me, Treffy," said the clergyman, "if you had +pulled your hand back and said, 'Oh, no, sir! I don't deserve it; I +don't believe you would ever give it to me; I can't take it yet?'"</p> + +<p>"No," said Treffy, "I don't suppose it would."</p> + +<p>"Yet this is just what you are doing to the Lord Jesus, Treffy. He is +holding out His gift to you, and He wants you to take it at once, yet +you hold back and say, 'No, Lord, I can't believe what you say, I can't +trust Thy word, I can't believe the gift is for me, I can't take it +yet.'</p> + +<p>"Treffy," said the clergyman, earnestly, "if you can trust me, oh, why +can't you trust the Lord Jesus?"</p> + +<p>The tears were running down the old man's face, and he could not speak.</p> + +<p>"I am going to ask you another question, Treffy," said the clergyman. +"Will you trust the Lord Jesus now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said Treffy, through his tears; "I don't think I can help +trusting him now."</p> + +<p>"Now, Treffy, remember Jesus is in this attic, close to you, close to +me, very, very near, Treffy. When we speak to Him, He will hear every +word we say; He will listen to every sigh; He will read every wish.</p> + +<p>"But, before you speak to Him, Treffy, listen to what He says to you," +said the clergyman, taking His Bible from his pocket. "These are His own +words, 'Come, now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord, though +your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be +red like crimson, they shall be as wool,' for 'The blood of Jesus +Christ, His Son, cleanseth us from all sin.' Treffy, will you trust the +Lord Jesus? Do you think He would tell you a lie?"</p> + +<p>"No," said old Treffy; "I'm sure He wouldn't."</p> + +<p>"Very well, Treffy, then we will tell Him so."</p> + +<p>The clergyman knelt down by Treffy's side, and Christie knelt down too, +and old Treffy clasped his trembling hands whilst the clergyman prayed.</p> + +<p>It was a very simple prayer; it was just taking the Lord at His word. +Old Treffy repeated the words after the clergyman with the deepest +earnestness, and when he had finished the old man still clasped his +hands and said, "Lord Jesus, I do trust Thee, I do take the gift, I do +believe Thy word."</p> + +<p>Then the clergyman rose from his knees and said, "Treffy, when you had +taken my gift, what did you do next?"</p> + +<p>"I thanked you for it, sir," said Treffy.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the clergyman, "and would you not like to thank the Lord +Jesus for His gift of forgiveness?"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said old Treffy, with tears in his eyes, "I should indeed, sir."</p> + +<p>So they all knelt down again, and in a few words the clergyman thanked +the dear Lord for His great love and goodness to old Treffy, in giving +him pardon for his sin.</p> + +<p>And again old Treffy took up the words and added:—</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Lord Jesus, very much for the gift; it cost Thee Thy life; +oh! I do thank Thee with all my heart."</p> + +<p>"Now, Treffy," said the clergyman, as he rose to go, "if Satan comes to +you to-morrow and says, 'Old Treffy, do you feel you've got forgiveness? +perhaps after all it's a mistake,' what shall you say to him?"</p> + +<p>"I think I shall tell him my text," said old Treffy, "'The blood of +Jesus Christ, His Son, cleanseth us from all sin.'"</p> + +<p>"That will do, Treffy," said the clergyman; "he can't answer that. And +remember, the Lord wishes you to <i>know</i> you are forgiven, not to <i>feel</i> +you are forgiven. There is a difference between feeling and knowing. You +<i>knew</i> you had taken my gift, and you did not know what I meant when I +asked you if you <i>felt</i> I had given it to you. It is the same with the +Lord's gift, Treffy. Your <i>feelings</i> have nothing to do with your +safety, but your <i>faith</i> has a great deal to do with it. Have you taken +the Lord at His word? Have you trusted Him? That is the question."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said Treffy, "I have."</p> + +<p>"Then you <i>know</i> you are forgiven," said the clergyman, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said Treffy, brightly, "I can trust Him now."</p> + +<p>Then Christie walked up to Treffy, and put the bunch of white snowdrops +in his hand.</p> + +<p>"Miss Mabel gave me them," he said, "and she said I was to say a little +prayer whenever I looked at them: 'Wash me, and I shall be whiter than +snow.'"</p> + +<p>"Whiter than snow," repeated the clergyman; "whiter than snow; Treffy! +that is a sweet word, is it not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said old Treffy, earnestly, as he looked at the flowers, "whiter +than snow, washed white in the blood of Jesus."</p> + +<p>Then the clergyman took his leave, but, as he was crossing the court, he +heard Christie running after him. He had a few of the lovely snowdrops +and a sprig of the dark myrtle in his hand.</p> + +<p>"Please, sir," said Christie, "would you like a few of them?"</p> + +<p>"Thank you, my boy," said the clergyman, "I should indeed."</p> + +<p>He carried the snowdrops carefully home, and they taught him a lesson of +faith. The seed he had sown in the mission-room had not been lost. +Already two poor sin-stained souls had come to the fountain, and had +been washed whiter than snow. The old man and the little boy had taken +the Lord at His word, and had found the only way into the bright city, +into "Home, sweet Home." God had been very good to him in letting him +know this. Surely, he would trust in the future.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<h3>MADE MEET FOR HOME.</h3> + + +<p>How different everything seemed to Treffy after his doubts and fears had +been removed! The very attic seemed full of sunshine, and old Treffy's +heart was full of brightness. He was forgiven, and he knew it. And, as a +forgiven child, he could look up into his Father's face with a smile.</p> + +<p>A great load was taken off little Christie's heart, his old master was +so happy and contented now; never impatient at his long absence when he +was out with the organ, or fretful and anxious about their daily +support. Old Treffy had laid upon Jesus his load of sin, and it was not +hard to lay upon Him also his load of care. The Lord who had borne the +greater burden would surely bear the less. Treffy could not have put +this feeling of trust into words, but he acted upon it. There were no +murmurings from old Treffy now, no forebodings. He had always a bright +smile and a cheerful word for Christie when the boy returned tired at +night. And whilst Christie was out he would lie very still and peaceful, +talking softly to himself or thanking the dear Lord for His great gift +to him.</p> + +<p>And old Treffy's trust was not disappointed. "None that trust in Him +shall be desolate."</p> + +<p>The clergyman's gift was not the only one they received that week. +Christie had come home in the middle of the day, to see how his old +master was, and was just preparing to start again on his rounds when +they heard a gentle rustling of silk on the stairs, and a low knock at +the door. Christie opened it quickly, and in walked little Mabel, and +little Mabel's mamma. They had brought with them many little comforts +for old Treffy, which Mabel had great pleasure in opening out. But they +brought with them also what money cannot buy,—sweet, gentle words, and +bright smiles, which cheered old Treffy's heart.</p> + +<p>The lady sat down beside Treffy, and they talked together of Jesus. The +old man loved to talk of Jesus now, for he was able to say, "He loved +me, and gave Himself for me."</p> + +<p>And the lady took a little blue Testament from her pocket, and read a +chapter to Treffy. She had a sweet, clear voice, and she read so +distinctly that he could understand every word.</p> + +<p>Little Mabel sat quite still whilst her mamma was reading, then she got +up, and ran across the attic.</p> + +<p>"Here are my snowdrops," she said, with a cry of joy, as she caught +sight of them in the window-sill. "Do you like them, Master Treffy?"</p> + +<p>"Ay! little missie," said the old man, "I do indeed, and me and Christie +always think of the little prayer when we look at them."</p> + +<p>"Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow," repeated Mabel reverently. +"Has He washed you, Master Treffy?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, missie," said Treffy, "I believe He has."</p> + +<p>"I'm so glad," said little Mabel, "then you <i>will</i> go to 'Home, sweet +Home;' won't he, mamma?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said her mother, "Treffy and Christie have found the only road +which leads home. And, oh!" she said, the color coming into her sweet +face, "what a happy day it will be when we all meet at home! Wouldn't +you like to see Jesus, Treffy?" asked the lady.</p> + +<p>"Ay," said old Treffy, "it would be a good sight to see His blessed +face. I could almost sing for joy when I think of it, and I haven't so +very long to wait."</p> + +<p>"No," said the lady, with a wistful expression in her eyes, "I could +almost change places with you, Treffy, I could almost wish I were as +near to 'Home, sweet Home.' But that would be selfish," she said +brightly, as she rose to go.</p> + +<p>But little Mabel had discovered the old organ, and was in no haste to +depart. She must turn it "just a little bit." In former days, old Treffy +would have been seriously agitated and distressed at the idea of the +handle of his dear old organ being turned by a little girl of six years +old. Even now he felt a small amount of anxiety when she proposed it. +But his fears vanished when he saw the careful, deliberate way in which +Mabel went to work. The old organ was perfectly safe in her hands. And, +to Mabel's joy, the first tune which came was "Home, sweet Home." Very +sweetly it sounded in old Treffy's ears. He was thinking of no earthly +home, but of "the city bright," where he hoped soon to be. And the lady +was thinking of it too.</p> + +<p>When the tune was finished, they took their leave, and Christie looked +out of the window, and watched them crossing the dirty court, and +entering the carriage which was waiting for them in the street.</p> + +<p>It had been a very bright week for Christie and for old Treffy.</p> + +<p>And then Sunday came, and another service in the little mission room. +Christie was there in good time, and the clergyman gave him a pleasant +smile as he came into the room.</p> + +<p>It was the third verse of the hymn on which the clergyman was to preach +to-night. They sang the whole hymn through before the sermon, and then +they sang the third verse again, that all of them might remember it +whilst he was preaching.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Lord, make me from this hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy loving child to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Kept by Thy power,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Kept by Thy power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From all that grieveth Thee."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And the clergyman's text was in Colossians 1:12, "Meet to be partakers +of the inheritance." He repeated it very slowly, and Christie whispered +softly to himself, that he might be able to teach it to old Treffy.</p> + +<p>"'Meet to be partakers of the inheritance.' What is the inheritance?" +asked the clergyman. "My dear friends, our inheritance is that city +bright of which we have been speaking so much, 'Home, sweet Home,' our +Father's home. We are not there yet, but for all Christ's washed ones +there is a bright home above. Jesus is preparing it for us; it is our +inheritance. Oh," said the clergyman, very earnestly, "I wonder how many +in this room have a home up there. You may have a wretched, +uncomfortable home on earth; is it your <i>only</i> home? Is there no home +for you in the bright city; no home in heaven?</p> + +<p>"You might all have a home there," said the clergyman, "if you would +only come to the fountain, if you would only say from the bottom of your +heart, 'Lord, wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.'"</p> + +<p>And Christie smiled when the clergyman said his little prayer, for he +thought of the snowdrops. And the clergyman thought of them, too.</p> + +<p>Then Mr. Wilton went on to say that he wished to-night to speak to those +who <i>had</i> come to Jesus; who <i>had</i> taken their sin to Him, and who <i>had</i> +been washed in His blood.</p> + +<p>"That's me and old Treffy," said Christie to himself.</p> + +<p>"My dear friends," said the clergyman, "all of you have an inheritance; +you are the sons of a King; there is a place in the kingdom waiting for +you. Jesus is getting that place ready for you, and I want to show you +to-night that you must be made ready for it, meet or fit for the +inheritance. One day, the Prince of Wales will be the King of England. +This kingdom is his inheritance. As soon as he was born, he had a right +to it. But he has been educated and trained with great care, that he may +be meet for the inheritance, that he may be fit to enjoy it, and able to +use it. If he had had no education, if he had been brought up in one of +these dismal black courts, though he might have a perfect right to be +king, still he would not be able to enjoy it; he would feel strange, +uncomfortable, out of place.</p> + +<p>"Just so," said the clergyman, "is it with our inheritance. As soon as +we are born again we have a right to it, we become sons and daughters of +the King of Kings. But we need to be prepared and made meet for the +inheritance. We must be made holy within; we must be trained and taught +to hate sin and to love all that is pure and holy. And this is the work +of God's Holy Spirit.</p> + +<p>"Oh! my friends, will you not ask for the gift of the Holy Spirit to +renew your heart? It will not be all done in a day. You came to Jesus to +be washed from the stain of sin. He did that at once; He gave you at +once the right to the inheritance. But you will not be made holy at +once. Little by little, hour by hour, day by day, the Holy Spirit will +make you more and more ready for the inheritance. You will become more +and more like Jesus. You will hate sin more; you will love Jesus more; +you will become more holy. But, oh! let no one think," said the +clergyman, "that being good will ever give you a <i>right</i> to the +inheritance. If I were to be ever so well educated, if I were to be +taught a hundred times better than the Prince of Wales has been, it +would never give me a right to be King of England. No, my friends, the +only way into 'Home, sweet Home,' the only way to obtain a right to the +inheritance, is by the blood of Jesus. There is no other way, no other +right.</p> + +<p>"But, after the dear Lord has given us the right to the kingdom, He +always prepares us for it. A forgiven soul will always lead a holy life. +A soul that has been washed white will always long to keep clear of sin. +Is it not so with you? Just think of what Jesus has done for you! He has +washed you in His blood; He has taken your sins away at the cost of His +life. Will you do the very things that grieve Him? Will you be so +ungrateful as to do that? Will you?</p> + +<p>"Oh! surely not; surely you will say, in the words of the third verse of +our hymn,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Lord, make me from this hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy loving child to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Kept by Thy power,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Kept by Thy power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From all that grieveth Thee.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And surely you will ask Him very, very earnestly, to give you that Holy +Spirit who alone can make you holy. And when the work is done," said the +clergyman, "when you are made meet, made fit for the inheritance, the +Lord will take you there. He will not keep you waiting. Some are made +ready very quickly. Others have to wait long, weary years of discipline. +But all the King's sons shall be ready at last, all shall be taken home, +and shall enter upon the inheritance. Will <i>you</i> be there?"</p> + +<p>And with that question the clergyman ended his sermon, and the little +congregation broke up very quietly, and went home with thoughtful faces.</p> + +<p>Christie lingered near the door till the clergyman came out. He asked +very kindly of old Treffy, and then he put a few questions to Christie +about the sermon; for he had been afraid whilst he had been preaching +that he had not made it so clear that a child might understand. But he +was cheered to find that the leading truth of the sermon was impressed +on little Christie's mind, and that he would be able to carry to old +Treffy something, at least, of what he had heard.</p> + +<p>For Christie was taught of God, and into hearts prepared by the Holy +Spirit the seed is sure to sink. The Lord has prepared them for the +word, and prepared the word for them, and the sower has only to put his +hand into his basket and scatter the seed prayerfully over the softened +soil. It will sink in, spring up, and bring forth fruit.</p> + +<p>The clergyman felt the truth of this as he walked home. And he +remembered where it was written, "The preparation of the heart is from +the Lord." "That is a word for me, as well as for my hearers," he said +to himself. "Lord, ever let Thy preparation go before my preaching."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<h3>TREFFY ENTERS THE CITY.</h3> + + +<p>"Christie, boy," said Treffy, that night, when Christie had told him all +he could remember of the sermon, and had repeated to him the third verse +of the hymn, "Christie, boy, the Lord will have to get <i>me</i> ready very +fast, very fast indeed."</p> + +<p>"Oh, maybe not, Master Treffy," said Christie, uneasily, "maybe not so +fast as you think."</p> + +<p>"The month's nearly up, Christie," said old Treffy; "and I think I'm +getting very near the city, very near to 'Home, sweet Home.' I can +almost see the letters over the gate sometimes, Christie."</p> + +<p>But Christie could not answer. His face was buried in his hands, and his +head sank lower and lower as he sat beside the fire. And, at length, +though he tried to keep it in, there came a great sob, which reached old +Treffy's heart. He put his hand lovingly on Christie's head, and for +some time neither of them spoke. But when the heart is very sore, +silence often does more to comfort than words can do, only it must be +silence which comes from a full heart, not from an empty one. Treffy's +old heart was very full of loving, yearning pity for poor little +Christie.</p> + +<p>"Christie, boy," he said, at length, "you wouldn't keep me outside the +gate; would you?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, Master Treffy," said Christie, "not for the world I wouldn't; +but I do wish I was going in too."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me, Christie, boy, the Lord has got some work for thee to +do for Him first. I'm a poor, useless old man, Christie, very tottering +and feeble, so He's going to take me home; but you have all your life +before you, Christie, boy, haven't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Christie, with a sigh, for he was thinking what a long, long +time it would be before he was as old as Master Treffy, and before the +golden gates would be opened to him.</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't you <i>like</i> to do something for Him, Christie, boy," said old +Treffy, "just to show you love Him?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, Master Treffy, I should," said Christie, in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"Christie, boy," said old Treffy, suddenly raising himself in bed, "I +would give all I have; yes, <i>all</i>, Christie, even my old organ, and you +know how I've loved her, Christie, but I'd give her up, her and +everything else, to have one year of my life back again—one year—to +show Him that I love Him. Just to think," he said regretfully, "that He +gave His life for me, and died ever such a dreadful death for me, and +I've only got a poor little miserable week left to show that I love Him. +Oh, Christie, boy! oh, Christie, boy! it seems so ungrateful; I can't +bear to think of it."</p> + +<p>It was Christie's turn now to be the comforter.</p> + +<p>"Master Treffy," he said, "just you tell the Lord that; I'm sure He'll +understand."</p> + +<p>Treffy clasped his hands at once, and said earnestly,—</p> + +<p>"Lord Jesus, I do love Thee; I wish I could do something for Thee, but +I've only another week to live,—only another week; but, oh! I do thank +Thee, I would give anything to have some of my life back again, to show +my love to Thee; please understand what I mean. Amen."</p> + +<p>Then old Treffy turned over and fell asleep. Christie sat for some time +longer by the fire. He had tried to forget the last day or two how short +a time he had with his old master, but it had all come back to him now. +And his heart felt very sad and desolate. It is a very dreadful thing to +lose the only friend you have in the world. And it is a very dreadful +thing to see before you a thick, dark cloud, and to feel that it hangs +over your pathway, and that you must pass through it. Poor Christie was +very full of sorrow, for he "feared as he entered into the cloud." But +Treffy's words came back to his mind, and he said, with a full heart,—</p> + +<p>"Lord Jesus, do help me to give my life to Thee. Oh! please help me to +spare old Treffy. Amen."</p> + +<p>Then, rather comforted, he went to bed.</p> + +<p>The next morning he looked anxiously at old Treffy. He seemed weaker +than usual, and Christie did not like to leave him. But they had very +little money left, and Treffy seemed to wish him to go; so Christie went +on his rounds with a heavy heart. He determined to go to the suburban +road, that he might tell little Mabel and her mother how much worse his +dear old master was. It is such a comfort to speak of our sorrow to +those who will care to hear.</p> + +<p>Thus Christie stopped before the house with the pretty garden in front +of it. The snowdrops were over now, but the primroses had taken their +place, and the garden looked very gay and cheerful. But Christie had no +heart to look at it; he was gazing up anxiously at the nursery window +for little Mabel's face. But she was not to be seen, so he turned the +handle of his organ and played "Home, sweet Home," her favorite tune, to +attract her attention. A minute after he began to play he saw little +Mabel coming quickly out of the house and running towards him. She did +not smile at him as usual, and she looked as if she had been crying, +Christie thought.</p> + +<p>"Oh, organ-boy," she said, "don't play to-day. Mamma is ill in bed, and +it makes her head ache."</p> + +<p>Christie stopped at once; he was just in the midst of the chorus of +"Home, sweet Home," and the organ gave a melancholy wail as he suddenly +brought it to a conclusion.</p> + +<p>"I am so sorry, missie," he said.</p> + +<p>Mabel stood before him in silence for a minute or two, and Christie +looked down upon her very pitifully and tenderly.</p> + +<p>"Is she very bad, missie?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said little Mabel, "I think she must be, papa looks so grave, and +nurse won't let us play; and I heard her tell cook mother would never be +any better," she added, with a little sob, which came from the bottom of +her tiny heart.</p> + +<p>"Poor little missie!" said Christie, sorrowfully; "poor little missie, +don't fret so; oh, don't fret so!"</p> + +<p>And as Christie stood looking down on the little girl a great tear +rolled down his cheek and fell on her little white arm.</p> + +<p>Mabel looked up suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Christie," she said, "I think mother must be going to 'Home, sweet +Home,' and I want to go too."</p> + +<p>"So do I," said Christie, with a sigh, "but the gates won't open to me +for a long, long time."</p> + +<p>Then the nurse called Mabel in, and Christie walked sorrowfully away. +The world seemed very full of trouble to him. Even the sky was overcast, +and a cutting east wind chilled Christie through and through. The spring +flowers were nipped by it, and the budding branches were sent backwards +and forwards by each fresh gust of the wind, and Christie felt almost +glad that it was so cheerless. He was very sad and unhappy, very +restless and miserable. He had begun to wonder if God had forgotten him; +the world seemed to him so wide and desolate. His old master was dying, +his little friend Mabel was in trouble, there seemed to be sorrow +everywhere. There seemed to be no comfort for poor Christie.</p> + +<p>Wearily and drearily he went homewards, and dragged himself up the steep +staircase to the attic. He heard a voice within, a low, gentle voice, +the sound of which soothed Christie's ruffled soul. It was the +clergyman, and he was reading to old Treffy.</p> + +<p>Treffy was sitting up in bed, with a sweet smile on his face, eagerly +listening to every word. And, as Christie came in, the clergyman was +reading this verse: "Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you; +not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be +troubled, neither let it be afraid."</p> + +<p>"That's a sweet verse for you, Treffy," said the clergyman.</p> + +<p>"Ay," said Treffy, brightening, "and for poor Christie too; he's very +cast down, is Christie, sir."</p> + +<p>"Christie," said the minister, laying his hand on his shoulder, "why is +<i>your</i> heart troubled?"</p> + +<p>But Christie could not answer. He turned suddenly away from the +minister, and, throwing himself on old Treffy's bed, he sobbed bitterly.</p> + +<p>The clergyman's heart was very full of sympathy for poor Christie. He +knelt down beside him, and putting his arm round him, with almost a +mother's tenderness, he said gently,—</p> + +<p>"Christie, shall we go together to the Lord Jesus, and tell him of your +sorrow?"</p> + +<p>And then, in very plain, simple words, which Christie's heart could +understand, the clergyman asked the dear Lord to look on the poor lonely +child, to comfort him and to bless him, and to make him feel that he had +one Friend who would never go away. And long after the clergyman had +gone, when the attic was quite still and Treffy was asleep, Christie +heard, as it were, a voice in his heart, saying to him, "Let not your +heart be troubled." Then he fell asleep in peace.</p> + +<p>He was wakened by his old master's voice: "Christie," said Treffy; +"Christie, boy!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Master Treffy," said Christie, jumping up hastily.</p> + +<p>"Where's the old organ, Christie?" asked Treffy.</p> + +<p>"She's here, Master Treffy," said Christie, "all right and safe."</p> + +<p>"Turn her, Christie," said Treffy, "play 'Home, sweet Home.'"</p> + +<p>"It's the middle of the night, Master Treffy," said Christie; "folks +will wonder what's the matter."</p> + +<p>But Treffy made no answer, and Christie crept to his side with a light, +and looked at his face. It was very altered and strange. Treffy's eyes +were shut, and there was that in his face which Christie had never seen +there before. He did not know what to do. He walked to the window and +looked out. The sky was quite dark, but one bright star was shining +through it and looking in at the attic window. "Let not your heart be +troubled," it seemed to say to him. And Christie answered aloud, "Lord, +dear Lord, help me."</p> + +<p>As he turned from the window, Treffy spoke again, and Christie caught +the words, "Play, Christie, boy, play."</p> + +<p>He hesitated no longer. Taking the organ from its place, he turned the +handle, and slowly and sadly the notes of "Home, sweet Home," were +sounded forth in the dark attic. The old man opened his eyes as Christie +played, and, when the tune was over, he called the boy to him; and, +drawing him down very close to him, he whispered,—</p> + +<p>"Christie, boy, the gates are opening now. I'm going in. Play again, +Christie, boy."</p> + +<p>It was hard work playing the three other tunes, they seemed so out of +place in the room of death.</p> + +<p>But Treffy did not seem to hear them. He was murmuring softly to himself +the words of the prayer, "Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow; +whiter than snow, whiter than snow."</p> + +<p>And, as Christie was playing "Home, sweet Home," for the second time, +old Treffy's weary feet passed within the gates. He was at home at last, +in "Home, sweet Home."</p> + +<p>And little Christie was left outside.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<h3>"NO PLACE LIKE HOME."</h3> + + +<p>The next morning, some of the lodgers in the great room below remembered +having heard sounds in the stillness of the night, which had awakened +them from their dreams and disturbed their slumbers. Some maintained it +was only the wind howling in the chimney, but others felt sure it was +music, and said that the old man in the attic must have been amusing +himself with the organ at midnight.</p> + +<p>"Not he," said the landlady, when she heard of it; "he'll never play it +again, he's a dying man, by what the doctor says."</p> + +<p>"Just you go and ask him if he wasn't turning his old organ in the +middle of last night," said a man from the far corner of the room. "I'll +bet you a shilling he was."</p> + +<p>The landlady went upstairs to satisfy his curiosity, and rapped at the +attic door. No one answered, so she opened it and went in. Christie was +fast asleep, stretched upon the bed where his old master's body lay. The +tears had dried on his cheeks, and he was resting his head on one of old +Treffy's cold, withered hands. The landlady's face grew grave, and she +instinctively shuddered in the presence of death.</p> + +<p>Christie woke with a start, and looked up in her face with a bewildered +expression. He could not remember at first what had happened. But in a +moment it all came back to him, and he turned over and moaned.</p> + +<p>The landlady was touched by the boy's sorrow, but she was a rough woman, +and knew little of the way of showing sympathy; and Christie was not +sorry when she went downstairs and left him to himself. As soon as the +house was quiet, he brought a neighbor to attend to old Treffy's body, +and then crept out to tell the clergyman.</p> + +<p>Mr. Wilton felt very deeply for the desolate child. Once again he +committed him to his loving Father, to the Friend who would never leave +him nor forsake him. And when Christie was gone he again knelt down, and +thanked God with a very full heart for having allowed him to be the poor +weak instrument in bringing this soul to Himself. There would be one at +least at the beautiful gates of "Home, sweet Home," watching for his +homegoing steps. Old Treffy would be waiting for him there. Oh, how good +God had been to him! It was with a thankful heart that he sat down to +prepare his sermon for the next day, on the last verse of the hymn. And +what he had just heard of old Treffy helped him much in the realization +of the bright city of which he was to speak.</p> + +<p>Mr. Wilton looked anxiously for Christie, when he entered the crowded +mission-room on Sunday evening. Yes, Christie was there, sitting as +usual on the front bench, with a very pale and sorrowful face, and with +heavy downcast eyes. And when the hymn was being sung, the clergyman +noticed that the tears were running down the boy's cheeks, though he +rubbed them away with his sleeve as fast as they came. But Christie +looked up almost with a smile when the clergyman gave out his text. It +was from Revelation 7:14, 15: "These are they which came out of great +tribulation, and have washed their robes, and made them white in the +blood of the Lamb. Therefore are they before the throne of God."</p> + +<p>"To-night," said the clergyman, "I am to speak of 'Home, sweet Home,' +and of those that dwell there, the great multitude of the redeemed. It +is a very holy place, there is no speck on the golden pavement, no evil +to be found within the city. The tempter can never enter there, sin is +unknown; all is very, very holy. And on the white robes of those who +dwell there is no stain; pure and clean and spotless, bright and fair as +light, are those robes of theirs. Nothing to soil them, nothing to spoil +their beauty, they are made white for ever in the blood of the Lamb; +therefore are they before the throne of God.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said the clergyman, "never forget that this is the only way to +stand before that throne. Being good will never take you there, not +being as bad as others will avail you nothing; if you are ever to enter +heaven, you must be washed white in the blood of the Lamb.</p> + +<p>"St. John was allowed to look into heaven, and he saw a great company of +these redeemed ones, and they were singing a new song, to the praise of +Him who had redeemed them. And since St. John's time," said the +clergyman, "oh! how many have joined their number. Every day, every +hour, almost every moment, some soul stands before the city gates. And +to every soul washed in the blood of Jesus those gates of pearl are +thrown open; they are all dressed one by one in a robe of white, and as +they walk through the golden streets, and stand before the throne of +glory, they join in that song which never grows old:—'Amen. Blessing +and glory, and wisdom, and thanksgiving, and honor, and power, and +might, be unto our God for ever and ever, Amen.'</p> + +<p>"And, my friends," said the clergyman, "as the holy God looks on these +souls He sees in them no trace of sin, the blood has taken it all away; +even in His sight they are all fair, there is no spot in them. They are +faultless and stainless, perfectly pure and holy.</p> + +<p>"Oh! my friends, will you ever join their number? This is a dark, +dismal, dying world; will you be content to have your <i>all</i> here? Will +you be content never to enter 'Home, sweet Home'? Oh! will you delay +coming to the fountain, and then wake up, and find you are shut out of +the city bright, and that for ever?</p> + +<p>"One old man," said the clergyman, "to whom I was talking last week is +now spending his first Sunday in that city bright."</p> + +<p>A stillness passed over the room when the clergyman said this, and +Christie whispered to himself, "He means Master Treffy, I know he does."</p> + +<p>"He was a poor sin-stained old man," the clergyman went on, "but he took +Jesus at His word, he came to the blood of Christ to be washed, and even +here he was made whiter than snow. And two nights ago the dear Lord sent +for the old man, and took him home. There was no sin-mark found on his +soul, so the gates were opened to him; and now in the snowy dress of +Christ's redeemed he stands, 'faultless and stainless, faultless and +stainless, safe in that happy home.'</p> + +<p>"If I were to hear next Sunday," said the clergyman, "that any one of +you was dead, could I say the same of you? Whilst we are meeting here, +would you be in 'Home, sweet Home'? Are you indeed washed in the +precious blood of Christ? Have you indeed been forgiven? Have you indeed +come to Jesus?</p> + +<p>"Oh! do answer this question in your own heart," said Mr. Wilton, in a +very earnest voice. "I do want to meet every one of you in 'Home, sweet +Home.' I think that when God takes me there I shall be looking out for +all of you, and oh! how I trust we shall all meet there,—all meet at +home!</p> + +<p>"I cannot say more to-night," said the minister, "but my heart is very +full. God grant that each of you may now be washed in the blood of +Jesus, and even in this life be made whiter than snow, and then say with +a grateful heart, 'Lord, I will work for Thee, love Thee, serve Thee, +all I can:'—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Till in the snowy dress<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Thy redeemed I stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Faultless and stainless,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Faultless and stainless,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Safe in the happy land."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And then the service was over, and the congregation went away. But +Christie never moved from the bench on which he was sitting. His face +was buried in his hands, and he never looked up, even when the clergyman +laid his hand kindly on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" he sobbed at last, "I want to go home; my mother's gone, and old +Treffy's gone, and I want to go too."</p> + +<p>The clergyman took Christie's little brown hand in both of his, and +said, "Christie, poor little Christie, the Lord does not like to keep +you outside the gate; but He has work for you to do a little longer, and +then the gates will be opened, and home will be all the sweeter after +the dark time down here." And with other gentle and loving words he +comforted the child, and then once more he prayed with him, and Christie +went away with a lighter heart. But he could not help thinking of the +last Sunday evening, when he had hastened home to tell Treffy about the +third verse of the hymn.</p> + +<p>There was no one to-night to whom Christie could tell what he had heard. +He waited a minute outside the attic door, as if he was almost afraid to +go in, but it was only for a minute, and when he walked in all fear +passed away.</p> + +<p>The sun was setting, and some rays of glory were falling on old Treffy's +face as he lay on the bed. They seemed to Christie as if they came +straight from the golden city, there was something so bright and so +unearthly about them. And Christie fancied that Treffy smiled as he lay +on the bed. It might be fancy, but he liked to think it was so.</p> + +<p>And then he went to the attic window and looked out. He almost saw the +golden city, far away amongst those wondrous, bright clouds. It was a +strange, glad thought, to think that Treffy was there. What a change for +him from the dark attic! Oh, how bright heaven would seem to his old +master!</p> + +<p>Christie would have given any thing just to see for one minute what +Treffy was doing. "I wonder if he will tell Jesus about me, and how I +want to come home," said Christie to himself.</p> + +<p>And as the sunset faded away and the light grew less and less, Christie +knelt down in the twilight, and said from the bottom of his heart,—</p> + +<p>"O Lord, please make me patient, and please some day take me to live +with Thee and old Treffy, in 'Home, sweet Home.'"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<h3>ALONE IN THE WORLD.</h3> + + +<p>Little Christie was the only mourner who followed old Treffy to the +grave. It was a poor parish funeral. Treffy's body was put into a parish +coffin, and carried to the grave in a parish hearse. But, oh! it did not +matter, for Treffy was at home in "Home, sweet Home;" all his sorrows +and troubles were over, his poverty was at an end, and in "the Father's +house" he was being well cared for.</p> + +<p>But the man who drove the hearse was not inclined to lose time upon the +road, and Christie had to walk very quickly, and sometimes almost to +run, to keep up with him; and on their way they passed another and a +very different funeral. It was going very slowly indeed. There was a +large hearse in front, and six funeral carriages filled with people +followed. And as Christie passed close by them in the middle of the road +he could see that the mourners within looked very sorrowful, and as if +they had been crying very much. But in one carriage he saw something +which he never forgot. With her head resting on her papa's shoulder, and +her little white sorrowful face pressed close to the window, was his +little friend Mabel.</p> + +<p>"So her mother is dead!" said Christie to himself, "and this is her +funeral! Oh, dear! what a very sad world this is!"</p> + +<p>He was not sure whether Mabel had seen him, but the little girl's sorrow +had sunk very deep into Christie's soul, and it was with a heavier heart +than before that he hastened forward to overtake the hearse which was +carrying his old master's body to the grave.</p> + +<p>So the two funeral processions—that of the poor old man, and that of +the fair young mother—passed on to the cemetery, and over both bodies +were pronounced the words, "Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to +dust." But all this time their happy souls were in "Home, sweet Home," +far, far away from the scene of sorrow. For a few days before, just at +the same hour, two souls had left this world of woe, and had met +together before the gates of pearl. And as they were both clean and +white, both washed in the blood of the Lamb, the gates had been opened +wide, and old Treffy and little Mabel's mother had entered the city +together. And now they had both seen Jesus, the dear Lord whom they +loved well, and in His presence they were even now enjoying fulness of +joy.</p> + +<p>Christie was obliged to give up the little attic after Treffy's death, +for the landlady wished to let it for a higher rent. However, she gave +the boy leave to sleep in the great lodging-room below, whilst she took +possession of all old Treffy's small stock of furniture, in payment for +the rent which he owed her.</p> + +<p>But the organ was Christie's property; his old master had given it to +him most solemnly about a week before he died. He had called Christie to +his side, and told him to bring the organ with him. Then he had +committed it to Christie's care.</p> + +<p>"You'll take care of her, Christie," he had said, "and you'll never part +with her, for my sake. And when you play 'Home, sweet Home,' Christie, +boy, you must think of me and your mother, and how we've both got +there."</p> + +<p>It was hard work for Christie, the first day that he took out his organ +after old Treffy's funeral; he did not so much mind playing "Rule +Britannia," or the "Old Hundredth," or "Poor Mary Ann," but when he came +for the first time to "Home, sweet Home," such a rush of feeling came +over him that he stopped short in the middle and moved on without +finishing it. The passers-by were surprised at the sudden pause in the +tune, and still more so at the tears which were running down Christie's +cheeks. They little thought that the last time he had played that tune +had been in the room of death, and that whilst he was playing it his +dearest friend on earth had passed away into the true "Home, sweet +Home." But Christie knew, and the notes of the tune brought back the +recollection of that midnight hour. And he could not make up his mind to +go on playing till he had looked up into the blue sky and asked for help +to rejoice in old Treffy's joy. And then the chorus came very sweetly to +him, "Home, sweet home; there's no place like home; there's no place +like home." "And old Treffy's there at last," said Christie to himself +as he finished playing.</p> + +<p>One day, about a week after Treffy's funeral, Christie went up the +suburban road, in the hopes of seeing poor little Miss Mabel once more. +He had never forgotten her sorrowful little face at the window of the +funeral coach. And when we are in sorrow ourselves, it does us good to +see and sympathize with those who are in sorrow also. Christie felt it +would be a great comfort to him to see the little girl. He wanted to +hear all about her mother, and when it was that she had gone to "Home, +sweet Home."</p> + +<p>But when Christie reached the house he stood still in astonishment. The +pretty garden was there just as usual, a bed of heartseases was blooming +in the sunshine, and the stocks and forget-me-nots were in full flower. +But the house looked very deserted and strange; the shutters of the +lower rooms were up, and the bed-rooms had no blinds in the windows and +looked empty and forlorn. And in the nursery window, instead of little +Mabel and Charlie's merry faces, there was a cross-looking old woman +with her head bent down over her knitting.</p> + +<p>What could be the matter? Where were the children gone? surely no one +else was lying dead in the house. Christie felt that he could not go +home without finding out; he must ask the old woman. So he stood at the +garden-gate, and turned the handle of the organ, hoping that she would +look out and speak to him. But, beyond a passing glance, she gave no +sign that she even heard it, but went on diligently with her work.</p> + +<p>At length Christie could wait no longer; so stopping suddenly in the +middle of "Poor Mary Ann," he walked up the gravel path and rang the +bell. Then the old woman put her head out of the window and asked what +he wanted. Christie did not quite know what to say, so he came out at +once with the great fear which was haunting him.</p> + +<p>"Please, ma'am, is any one dead?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Dead? No!" said the old woman, quickly. "What do you want to know for?"</p> + +<p>"Please, could I speak to little Miss Mabel?" asked Christie, timidly.</p> + +<p>"No, bless you," said the old woman, "not unless you'd like a walk +across the sea; she's in France by now."</p> + +<p>"In France!" repeated Christie, with a bewildered air.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the old woman, "they've all gone abroad for the summer;" and +then she shut the window in a decided manner, as much as to say, "And +that's all I shall tell you about it."</p> + +<p>Christie stood for a few minutes in the pretty garden before he moved +away. He was very disappointed; he had so hoped to have seen his little +friends, and now they were gone. They were far away in France. That was +a long way off, Christie felt sure, and perhaps he would never see them +again.</p> + +<p>He walked slowly down the dusty road. He felt very lonely this +afternoon, very lonely and forsaken. His mother was gone; old Treffy was +gone! the lady was gone! and now the children were gone also! He had no +one to cheer him or to comfort him; so he dragged the old organ wearily +down the hot streets. He had not heart enough to play, he was very tired +and worn out; yet he knew not where to go to rest. He had not even the +old attic to call his home. But the pavement was so hot to his feet, and +the sun was so scorching, that Christie determined to return to the +dismal court, and to try to find a quiet corner in the great +lodging-room.</p> + +<p>But when he opened the door he was greeted by a cloud of dust; and the +landlady called out to him to take himself off, she could not do with +him loitering about at that time of day. So Christie turned out again, +very heart-sore and disconsolate; and, going into a quiet street, he +sheltered for some time from the hot sun under a high wall which made a +little shadow across the pavement.</p> + +<p>Christie was almost too hot and tired even to be unhappy, and yet every +now and then he shivered, and crept into the sunshine to be warmed +again. He had a strange, sharp pain in his head, which made him feel +very bewildered and uncomfortable. He did not know what was the matter +with him, and sometimes he got up and tried to play for a little time, +but he was so sick and dizzy that he was obliged to give it up, and to +lie quite still under the wall, with the organ beside him, till the sun +began to set. Then he dragged himself and his organ back to the large +lodging-room. The landlady had finished her cleaning, and was preparing +the supper for her lodgers. She threw Christie a crust of bread as he +came in, but he was not able to eat it. He crawled to a bench in the far +corner of the room, and putting his old organ against the wall beside +him, he fell asleep.</p> + +<p>When he awoke, the room was full of men; they were eating their supper, +and talking and laughing noisily. They took little notice of Christie, +as he lay very still in the corner of the room. He could not sleep +again, for the noise in the place was so great, and now and again he +shuddered at the wicked words and coarse jests which fell on his ear +almost every minute.</p> + +<p>Christie's head was aching terribly, and he felt very, very ill; he had +never been so ill in his life before. What would he not have given for a +quiet little corner, in which he might have lain, out of the reach of +the oaths and wickedness of the men in the great lodging-room! And then +his thoughts wandered to old Treffy in "Home, sweet Home." What a +different place his dear old master was in!</p> + +<p>"There's no place like home, no place like home," said Christie to +himself. "Oh, what a long way I am from 'Home, sweet Home!'"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<h3>CHRISTIE WELL CARED FOR.</h3> + + +<p>"What's the matter with that little lad?" said one of the men to the +landlady, as she was preparing their breakfast the next morning. "He's +got a fever, or something of the sort. He's been talking about one thing +or another all night. I've had toothache, and scarcely closed my eyes, +and he's never ceased chatting the night through."</p> + +<p>"What did he talk about?" asked another man.</p> + +<p>"Oh! all sorts of rubbish," said the man with the toothache, "bright +cities, and funerals, and snowdrops; and once he got up, and began to +sing; I wonder you didn't hear him."</p> + +<p>"It would have taken a great deal to make <i>me</i> hear him," said the +other, "tired out as I was last night; what did he sing, though?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! one of the tunes on his old organ. I expect he gets them in his +head so that he can't get them out. I think it was 'Home, sweet Home,' +he was trying at last night;" and the man went to his work.</p> + +<p>"Well, Mrs. White," said another man, "if the boy's in a fever, the +sooner you get him out of this the better; we don't want all of us to +take it."</p> + +<p>When the men were gone, the landlady went up to Christie to see if he +were really ill. She tried to wake him, but he looked wildly in her +face, and did not seem to know her. So she lifted him by main force into +a little dark room under the stairs, which was filled with boxes and +rubbish. She was not an unkind woman; she would not turn the poor child +into the street in his present condition; so she made him up a little +bed on the floor, and giving him a drink of water, she left him, to +continue her work. That evening she fetched the parish doctor to see +him, and he told her that Christie was in a fever.</p> + +<p>For many days little Christie hung between life and death. He was quite +unconscious of all that went on; he never heard the landlady come into +the room; he never saw her go out. She was the only person who came near +him, and she could give him very little attention, for she had so much +to do. But she used to wonder why Christie talked so often of "Home, +sweet Home;" through all his wanderings of mind this one idea seemed to +run. Even in his delirium, little Christie was longing for "the city +bright."</p> + +<p>But, after a time, Christie began to recover; he regained his +consciousness, and slowly, very slowly, the fever left him. But he was +so weak that he could not even turn in bed; and he could scarcely speak +above a whisper. Oh, how long and dreary the days were to him! Mrs. +White had begun to grow tired of waiting on him, and so Christie was for +many a long hour without seeing any one to whom he could speak.</p> + +<p>It was a very dark little chamber, only lighted from the passage, and +Christie could not even see a bit of blue sky. He felt very much alone +in the world. All day long there was no sound but the distant shouts of +the children in the court, and in the evening he could hear the noise of +the men in the great lodging-room. Often he was awake the greater part +of the night, and lay listening to the ticking of the clock on the +stairs, and counting the strokes hour after hour. And then he would +watch the faint gray light creeping into the dark room, and listen to +the footsteps of the men going out to their daily work.</p> + +<p>No one came to see Christie. He wondered that Mr. Wilton did not ask +after him, when he missed him from the mission-room. Oh, how glad +Christie would have been to see him! But the days passed slowly by, and +he never came, and Christie wondered more and more. Once he asked Mrs. +White to fetch him to see him, but she said she could not trouble to go +so far.</p> + +<p>If little Christie had not had a friend in Jesus, his little heart would +almost have broken, in the loneliness and desolation of those days of +weakness. But though his faith was sometimes feeble, and he was then +very downcast in spirit, yet at other times little Christie would talk +with Jesus, as with a dear friend, and in this way he was comforted. And +the words which the clergyman had read to his old master were ever +ringing in his ears, "Let not your heart be troubled."</p> + +<p>Still, those weeks did seem very long and tedious. At last, he was able +to sit up in bed, but he felt faint and dizzy whenever he moved. For he +had had a very severe attack of fever, and he needed all manner of +nourishing things to bring back his strength. But there was no one to +attend to the wants of the poor motherless boy. No one, except the dear +Lord; He had not forgotten him.</p> + +<p>It was a close, tiring afternoon. Christie was lying upon his bed, +panting with the heat, and longing for a breath of air. He was faint and +weary, and felt very cast down and dispirited. "Please, dear Lord," he +said aloud, "send some one to see me."</p> + +<p>And even as he spoke the door opened, and the clergyman came in. It was +too much for little Christie! He held out his arms to him in joy, and +then burst into tears.</p> + +<p>"Why, Christie," said the clergyman, "are you not glad to see me?"</p> + +<p>"Oh," said little Christie, "I thought you were never coming, and I felt +such a long way from home! Oh, I am so glad to see you."</p> + +<p>Then Mr. Wilton told Christie that he had been away from home, and that +another clergyman had been taking his duty. But the night before he had +preached for the first time since his return in the little mission-room, +and he had missed Christie from the front bench. He had asked the woman +who cleaned the room about him, and she had told him that Christie had +never been there since he went away. The clergyman had wondered what was +the matter, and had come as soon as he could to hear.</p> + +<p>"And now, Christie," he said, "tell me all about these long, weary +weeks."</p> + +<p>But Christie was so glad and so happy now, that the past seemed like a +long, troubled dream. He had waked up now, and had forgotten his sorrow +and his loneliness.</p> + +<p>The clergyman and Christie had much pleasant talk together, and then Mr. +Wilton said,—</p> + +<p>"Christie, I have had a letter about you, which I will read to you."</p> + +<p>The letter was from little Mabel's papa, who was a friend of the +clergyman.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Mr. Wilton</span>,—There is a poor boy of the name +of Christie (what his surname is I do not know) living in a +lodging-house in Ivy Court, Percy Street. He lived formerly with +an old organ-grinder, but I believe the old man was thought to be +dying some weeks ago. My dear wife took a great fancy to the boy, +and my little Mabel frequently talks of him. I imagine he must be +left in a very destitute condition; and I should be much obliged if +you could find him out and provide for him some comfortable home +with any respectable person who will act as a mother to him.</p> + +<p>"I enclose a check which will pay his expenses for the present. I +should like him to go to school for a year or two and then I +intend, if the boy desires to serve Christ, to bring him up to work +as a Scripture-reader amongst the lowest class of the people in +your neighborhood.</p> + +<p>"I think I could not perpetuate my dear wife's memory in any better +way than by carrying out what I know were her wishes with regard to +little Christie. No money or pains will I spare to do for him what +she herself would have done, had her life been spared.</p> + +<p>"Kindly excuse me for troubling you with this matter; but I do not +wish to defer it until our return, lest I lose sight of the boy. +The dismal attic where Christie and his old master lived was the +last place my dear wife visited before her illness; and I feel that +the charge of this boy is a sacred duty which I must perform for +her dear sake, and also for the sake of Him who has said, 'Inasmuch +as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye +have done it unto me.'</p> + +<p>"Believe me, dear Mr. Wilton,<br /> +<br /> +"Yours very sincerely,<br /> +<br /> +"<span class="smcap">Gerald Lindesay</span>."</p> +</div> + +<p>"Christie," said the clergyman, "the dear Lord has been very good to +you."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said little Christie, "old Treffy was right; wasn't he, sir?"</p> + +<p>"What did old Treffy say?" asked the clergyman.</p> + +<p>"He said the Lord had some work for me to do for Him," said Christie, +"and I didn't think there was any thing I could do; but He's going to +let me, after all."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the clergyman, smiling; "shall we thank Him, Christie?"</p> + +<p>So he knelt down by Christie's bed, and little Christie clasped his thin +hands and added his words of praise:—</p> + +<p>"O Jesus, I thank Thee so much for letting me have some work to do for +Thee; and, please, I will stay outside the gates a little longer, to do +something to show Thee how I love Thee. Amen."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Christie," said the clergyman, as he rose to go, "you must work +with a very loving heart. And when the work is over will come the +<i>rest</i>. After the long waiting will come 'Home, sweet Home.'"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Christie, brightly, "'there's no place like Home, no place +like Home.'"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + +<h3>CHRISTIE'S WORK FOR THE MASTER.</h3> + + +<p>It was a hot summer's afternoon, some years after, and the air in Ivy +Court was as close and stifling as it had been in the days when Christie +and old Treffy lived there. Crowds of children might still be seen +playing there, screaming and quarrelling, just as they had done then. +The air was as full of smoke and dust, and the court looked as desolate +as it had done in those years gone by. It was still a very dismal and a +very forlorn place.</p> + +<p>So Christie thought, as he entered it that sultry day; it seemed to him +as far as ever from "Home, sweet Home." Yet, of all the places which he +visited as a Scripture-reader, there was no place in which Christie took +such an interest as Ivy Court. For he could not forget those dreary days +when he had been a little homeless wanderer, and had gone there for a +night's lodging. And he could not forget the old attic which had been +the first place, since his mother's death, that he had been able to call +home. It was to this very attic he was going this afternoon. He climbed +the rickety stairs, and as he did so he thought of the night when he had +crept up them for the first time, and had knelt down outside old +Treffy's door, listening to the organ. Christie had never parted with +that organ, his old master's last gift to him. And scarcely a week +passed that he did not turn the handle, and listen to the dear old +tunes. And he always finished with "Home, sweet Home," for he still +loved that tune the best. And when Miss Mabel came to see him, she +always wanted to turn the old organ in remembrance of her childish days. +She was not Miss Mabel any longer now, though Christie still sometimes +called her so when they were talking together of the old days, and of +Treffy and his organ. But Mabel was married now to the clergyman under +whom Christie was working, and she took great interest in the young +Scripture-reader, and was always ready to help him with her advice and +sympathy. And she would ask Christie about the poor people he visited, +and he would tell her which of them most needed her aid. And where she +was most needed young Mrs. Villiers was always ready to go.</p> + +<p>And so it came to pass that when Christie knocked at the old attic door, +it was opened for him by Mrs. Villiers herself, who had just come there +to see a poor sick woman. She had not met Christie in that attic since +the days when they were both children, and Mabel smiled as he came in, +and said to him, "Do you remember the occasion when we met here before?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Christie, "I remember it well; there were four of us here +then, Mrs. Villiers, and two out of the four have gone to the bright +city which we talked of then."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mabel, with tears in her eyes; "they are waiting for us in +'Home, sweet Home.'"</p> + +<p>The attic did not look any more cheerful that day than it had done when +old Treffy lived there. The window-panes were nearly all broken and +filled with pieces of brown paper or rag. The floor was more rotten than +ever, and the boards seemed as if they must give way when Christie +crossed the room to speak to a forlorn-looking woman who was sitting on +a chair by the smouldering fire. She was evidently very ill and very +unhappy. Four little children were playing about, and making so much +noise that Christie could hardly hear their mother speak when she told +him she was "no better, no better at all, and she did not think she ever +should be."</p> + +<p>"Have you done what I asked you, Mrs. Wilson?" said Christie.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, I've said it again and again, and the more I say it the more +miserable it makes me."</p> + +<p>"What is it, Christie?" said Mrs. Villiers.</p> + +<p>"It's a little prayer, ma'am, I asked her to say: 'O God, give me Thy +Holy Spirit, to show me what I am.'"</p> + +<p>"And I think He has shown me," said the poor woman, sadly; "anyhow, I +never knew I was such a sinner; and every day as I sit here by my fire I +think it all over, and every night as I lie awake on my bed I think of +it again."</p> + +<p>"I've brought another prayer for you to say now, Mrs. Wilson," said +Christie, "and I've written it out on a card, that you may be able to +learn it quickly: 'O God, give me Thy Holy Spirit, to show me what Jesus +is.' God has heard and answered your first prayer, so you may be sure He +will hear this one also. And if He only shows you what Jesus is, I am +sure you will be happy, for Jesus will forgive you your sin, and take +away all its heavy burden."</p> + +<p>The poor woman read the prayer aloud several times, and then Mrs. +Villiers took a book from her pocket and began to read. It was a little, +much-worn Testament. It had once been blue, but from constant use the +color had faded, and the gilt edges were no longer bright. It was not +the first time that same Testament had been in that old attic. For it +was the same book from which Mabel's mother had read to old Treffy +fifteen years before. How Mabel loved that book! Here and there was a +pencil-mark, which her mother had made against some favorite text, and +these texts Mabel read again and again, till they became her favorites +also. It was one of these which she read to the poor woman to-day: "The +blood of Jesus Christ, His Son, cleanseth us from all sin." And then +Mrs. Villiers explained how ready Jesus is to save any soul that comes +to Him, and how His blood is quite sufficient to take away sin.</p> + +<p>The sick woman listened eagerly, and a tear came into Christie's eye as +he said: "There is no text that I love like that, Mrs. Villiers. Mr. +Wilton preached on it in the mission-room the second time I went there, +and I felt as if I could sing for joy when I heard it; I well remember +how I ran up the stairs to this attic, to tell it to my old master."</p> + +<p>"And you've found it true, Christie?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am, indeed I have; and Treffy found it true too."</p> + +<p>Then Mrs. Villiers and Christie took their leave; but, as they were +going down the steep staircase, Christie said, "Have you time to call on +Mrs. White for a few minutes, ma'am? She would be so pleased to see you, +and I don't think she will live very long."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Villiers gladly agreed to go; so Christie knocked at the door at +the bottom of the stairs. A young woman opened it, and they went in.</p> + +<p>Mrs. White was lying on a bed in the corner of the room, and seemed to +be asleep; but presently she opened her eyes, and when she saw Christie +her face brightened, and she held out her hands in welcome. She was an +old woman now, and had given up taking lodgers several years before.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Christie," she said, "I <i>am</i> glad to see you; I have been counting +the hours till you came."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Villiers has come to see you to-day, Mrs. White."</p> + +<p>"Oh! how good of you," said the poor woman; "Christie said you would +come some day."</p> + +<p>"You have known Christie a long time, have you not?" said Mrs. Villiers.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the old woman, "he came to me first as a little ragged boy, +shivering with cold; and I liked the look of him, ma'am, he was so much +quieter than some that came here; and I used to give him a crust +sometimes, when he looked more starved than usual."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mrs. White," said Christie, "you were often very good to me."</p> + +<p>"Oh! not as I should have been, Christie; they were only crusts I gave +you, bits that were left from the men's meals, and not so much of them +either; but you've come to me and you've brought me the Bread of +Life,—not just bits and leavings, but enough and to spare, as much as I +like, and more than enough for all I want."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Christie," said Mrs. Villiers, "I am glad to hear this; the dear +Lord has been very good to you; your work has not been in vain."</p> + +<p>"In vain!" said the old woman; "I should think not! There's many a one, +Mrs. Villiers, that will bless God in the home above for what you and +your father have done for this lad; and there's no one that will bless +Him more than I shall. I was as dark as a heathen till Christie came to +me, and read to me out of his Bible, and talked to me of Jesus, and put +it all so clear to me. And now I know that my sins are forgiven, and +very soon the Lord will take me home; and oh! dear, how nice that will +be—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'When in the snowy dress<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Thy redeemed I stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Faultless and stainless,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Faultless and stainless,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Safe in that happy land!'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"I see that Mrs. White knows your hymn, Christie," said Mrs. Villiers.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Christie, "I taught her it a long time ago, and she is as +fond of it as my old master was."</p> + +<p>After a little more conversation, Mrs. Villiers took her leave, and +Christie continued his round of visits. All that long, sultry afternoon +he toiled on, climbing dark staircases, going down into damp cellars, +visiting crowded lodging-houses; and everywhere, as he went, dropping +seeds of the Word of life, sweet words from the Book of books, suited to +the hearts of those with whom he met.</p> + +<p>For in that book Christie found there was a word for every need, and a +message for every soul. There was peace for the sin-burdened, comfort +for the sorrowful, rest for the weary, counsel for the perplexed, and +hope for the dying. And Christie always prayed before he went out that +God's Holy Spirit would give him the right word for each one whom he +went to see. And, as he knocked at the door of a house, he always lifted +up his heart in a silent prayer, something like this:—</p> + +<p>"Thou, Lord, which knowest the hearts of all men, give me the +opportunity of saying something for Thee, and please help me use it, and +show me how to say the right word."</p> + +<p>And so it was no wonder that God blessed him. It was no wonder that +wherever he went Christie not only found opportunities of doing good, +but was able to use those opportunities to the best advantage. It was no +wonder that when the people were ill they always sent for the young +Scripture-reader to read and pray with them. It was no wonder that the +little children loved him, or that the poor, tired mothers were glad to +sit down for a few minutes to hear him read words of comfort from the +Book of life. It was no wonder that all day long Christie found work to +do for the Master, and souls waiting to receive the Master's message. He +was generally very tired when he went home at night, but he did not mind +this. For he never forgot old Treffy's sorrow, a few days before he +died, because he had only a week left in which to show his love to his +Saviour. And Christie thanked God every day that He had given to him the +honor and privilege of working for Him.</p> + +<p>Christie lodged in a quiet street not far from Ivy Court. He used to +live some way out of the town, for he liked to have a walk after his +day's work was done; but he found that the poor people often wanted him +for different things in the evening and at other times, and so he +removed nearer to them and nearer to his work. And very often they would +come to him with their troubles, and sit in his little room pouring out +their grief. The young men especially were very glad to come to +Christie's lodging to have a talk with him; and once a week Christie had +a little prayer-meeting there, to which many of them came. And they +found it a great help on their way to heaven.</p> + +<p>When Christie opened the door of his lodging on the day of which I am +writing, he heard a sound which very much surprised him. It was the +sound of his old barrel-organ, and it was playing a few notes of "Home, +sweet Home." He wondered much who could be turning it, for he had +forbidden the landlady's children to touch it, except when he was +present to see that no harm came to it. He sometimes smiled to himself +at his care over the old organ. It reminded him of the days when he had +first played it, with old Treffy standing by him and looking over his +shoulder, saying in an anxious voice, "Turn her gently, Christie, boy; +turn her gently."</p> + +<p>And now he was almost as careful of it as Treffy himself, and he would +not on any account have it injured. And so he hastened upstairs to see +who it could be that was turning it this morning. On his way he met his +landlady, who said that a gentleman was waiting for him in his parlor, +who seemed very anxious to see him, and had been sitting there for some +time. And, when Christie opened the door, who should be turning the +barrel-organ but his old friend, Mr. Wilton!</p> + +<p>They had not met for many years, for Mr. Wilton had settled in another +part of England, where he was preaching the same truths as he had once +preached in the little mission-room. But he had come to spend a Sunday +in the scene of his former labors, and he was very anxious to know how +his friend Christie was getting on, and whether he was still working for +the Saviour, and still looking forward to "Home, sweet Home."</p> + +<p>It was a very affectionate meeting between Mr. Wilton and his young +friend. They had much to talk about, not having seen each other for so +long.</p> + +<p>"So you still have the old organ, Christie," said Mr. Wilton, looking +down at the faded silk, which was even more colorless than it had been +in Treffy's days.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said Christie, "I could never part with it; I promised my +old master that I never would, and it was his dying gift to me. And +often now when I hear the notes of 'Home, sweet Home,' it takes my +thoughts to old Treffy, and I think what a happy time he must have had +in 'the city bright,' all these fifteen years."</p> + +<p>"Do you remember how you used to want to go there too, Christie?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Wilton, and I don't want it any the less now; but still I +should like to live some years longer, if it is His will. There is so +much to do in the world, isn't there, sir? And what I do only seems to +me like a drop in the ocean when I look at the hundreds of people there +are in these crowded courts; I could almost cry sometimes when I feel +how little I can reach them."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Christie," said Mr. Wilton, "there is a great deal to do, and we +cannot do a tenth part, nor yet a thousandth part, of what there is to +do; what we must strive after is, that the dear Master may be able to +say of each of us, 'He hath done what he <i>could</i>.'"</p> + +<p>Then Mr. Wilton and Christie knelt down and prayed that God would give +Christie a blessing on his work, and would enable him to lead many of +the people, in the courts and lanes of that wretched neighborhood, to +come to Jesus, that they might find a home in that city where Treffy was +gone before.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + +<h3>"HOME, SWEET HOME, AT LAST."</h3> + + +<p>It was Sunday evening, and Christie was once more in the little +mission-room; but not now as a poor ragged boy, sitting on the front +bench, and in danger of being turned out by the woman who lighted the +gas-lamps. She would not dream of turning Christie out now, for the +young Scripture-reader was a well-known man in the district. He was +always there early, before any of the people arrived, and he used to +stand at the door and welcome each one as they came in, helping the old +men and women to their seats, and looking out anxiously for those whom +he had invited for the first time during the week. And if any little +ragged boys stole in, and seemed inclined to listen, Christie took +special care of them, for he had not forgotten the day when he had first +come to that very room, longing to hear a word of comfort to tell to his +old master.</p> + +<p>Mr. Wilton was to take the service to-night, and Christie had been busy +all the afternoon giving special invitations to the people to be +present, for he wanted them very much to hear his dear friend.</p> + +<p>The mission-room was quite full when Mr. Wilton entered it. How it +rejoiced him to see Christie going about amongst the people, with a kind +word for each, and handing them the small hymn-books from which they +were to sing!</p> + +<p>"Come, for all things are now ready." That was Mr. Wilton's text. How +still the mission-room was, and how earnestly all the people listened to +the sermon! The clergyman first spoke of the marriage feast in the +parable, so carefully spread, so kindly prepared, all ready there,—and +yet no one would come! There were excuses on all sides, every one was +too busy or too idle to attend to the invitation; no one was ready to +obey that gracious "Come."</p> + +<p>And then Mr. Wilton spoke of Jesus, and how he had made all things ready +for us; and how pardon is ready and peace is ready; the Father's arms +ready to receive us; the Father's love ready to welcome us; a home in +heaven ready prepared for us. That, he said, was God's part of the +matter.</p> + +<p>"And what, my dear friends," he went on, "is <i>our</i> part? <i>Come</i>; 'come, +for all things are now ready.' Come, you have only to come and take; you +have only to receive this love. Come, sin-stained soul; come, weary one; +'come, for all things are now ready.' <i>Now</i> ready. There is a great deal +in that word '<i>now</i>.' It means to-night,—this very Sunday; not next +year, or next week; not to-morrow, but now,—all things are <i>now</i> ready. +God has done all He can, He can do no more, and He says to you, 'Come!' +Will you not come? Are God's good things not worth having? Would you not +like to lie down to sleep, feeling that you were forgiven? Would you not +like one day to sit down to the marriage supper of the Lamb?</p> + +<p>"Oh, what a day that will be!" said Mr. Wilton, as he ended his sermon. +"St. John caught a glimpse of its glory amidst the wonderful sights he +was permitted to see. And so important was it, so good, so specially +beautiful, that the angel seems to have stopped him, that St. John might +write it down at once: Wait a minute, don't go any farther, take out +your book and make a note of that,—'Write, Blessed are they which are +called unto the marriage supper of the Lamb.'</p> + +<p>"Are <i>you</i> one of those blessed ones?" asked the clergyman. "Are you +washed in the blood of the Lamb? Will you sit down to that supper? Have +you a right to enter into 'Home, sweet Home?' I know not what is your +answer to these questions. But if you cannot answer me now, how will you +in that day answer the Great Searcher of hearts?"</p> + +<p>And with this question the sermon ended, and the congregation left; +those of them who had known Mr. Wilton still lingering behind, to shake +hands with him, and to get a parting word of counsel or comfort.</p> + +<p>Christie walked home by the clergyman's side.</p> + +<p>"And now, Christie," said Mr. Wilton, "do you think you can be ready to +start with me to-morrow morning at eight o'clock?"</p> + +<p>"To start with you, sir?" repeated Christie.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Christie; you have had hard work lately, and I have asked leave +from Mr. Villiers to take you home with me, that you may have a little +country air and quiet rest. I am sure it will not be lost time, +Christie; you will have time for quiet reading and prayer, and you will +be able to gain strength and freshness for future work. Well, do you +think you can be ready in time?"</p> + +<p>Christie thought there was no fear of his being late. He thanked Mr. +Wilton with a voice full of feeling, for he had sometimes longed very +much for a little pause in his busy life.</p> + +<p>And the next day found Christie and Mr. Wilton rapidly traveling towards +the quiet country village in which Mr. Wilton's church was to be found.</p> + +<p>What was the result of that visit may be gathered from the following +extract, taken from a letter written by Christie to Mr. Wilton some +months later:—</p> + +<p>"I promised you that I would let you know about our little home. It is, +I think, one of the happiest to be found in this world. I shall always +bless God that I came to your village, and met my dear little wife.</p> + +<p>"At last I have a 'Home, sweet Home,' of my own. We are so happy +together! When I come home from my work, I always see her watching for +me, and she has every thing ready for me, and the evenings we spend +together are very quiet and peaceful. Nellie likes to hear about all my +visits during the day, and the poor people are already so fond of her +they come to her in all their troubles. And we find it such a comfort to +be able to pray together for those in whom we are interested, and +together to take them to the Saviour.</p> + +<p>"Our little home is so bright and cheerful! I wish you could have seen +it on the evening on which we arrived. Mrs. Villiers had made all ready +for us, and with her own hand had put on the tea-table a lovely bunch of +snowdrops and dark myrtle leaves. And I need not tell you that they +reminded me of those which she had given me when she was little Miss +Mabel, and when she taught me that prayer which I have never forgotten, +'Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.'</p> + +<p>"And now, dear Mr. Wilton, you may think of Nellie and me as living +together in love and happiness in the dear little earthly home, yet +still looking forward to the eternal home above, our true, our best, our +brightest '<span class="smcap">home, sweet home</span>.'"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="c200" id="c200"></a> +<img src="images/c200.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHRISTIE'S OLD ORGAN ***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 21997-h.txt or 21997-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/1/9/9/21997">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/1/9/9/21997</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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