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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 43918 ***
+
+Transcriber's Note: Minor typographical errors have been corrected
+without note. Irregularities and inconsistencies in the text have
+been retained as printed. Words printed in italics are noted with
+underscores: _italics_.
+
+
+[Illustration: See page 11.]
+
+
+
+THE PENITENT BOY:
+
+OR,
+
+SIN BRINGS SORROW.
+
+
+REVISED BY D. P. KIDDER.
+
+
+New-York.
+
+PUBLISHED BY LANE & SCOTT,
+FOR THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION OF THE METHODIST
+EPISCOPAL CHURCH, 200 MULBERRY-ST.
+
+Joseph Longking, Printer.
+1851.
+
+
+
+
+THE PENITENT BOY.
+
+
+"Do lend me your new knife, which mamma gave you," asked Samuel; "I
+want to cut notches in my stick, and play Robinson Crusoe: do, will
+you, Alfred?"
+
+"No, I cannot Sam; so do not ask any more. I wish you would not tease
+me for my knife; you cannot have it; I do not want it hurt."
+
+"Well, but you lent it to cousin James, on Monday, and he did not spoil
+it, did he?"
+
+"Now do be quiet, Samuel; I cannot lend it to you, so that is all I
+shall say."
+
+"Why I never saw you so cross, Alfred."
+
+"Yes, I am cross, I know. I feel very cross and uncomfortable, so do
+not ask any more about the knife."
+
+Just then an aunt of the little boys entered the room, and Samuel
+turned to her in his trouble.
+
+"Now do not you think, aunt, Alfred ought to lend me his knife, just
+for a minute, to cut a Robinson Crusoe stick?"
+
+"No doubt he will," replied Miss Woodford; "I never knew Alfred cross
+or unkind: he does not mean that he will not lend it; he is only
+joking, I am sure."
+
+"Yes, aunt, I do mean it; I have made up my mind that nobody shall use
+my knife."
+
+"Well, then," urged the anxious Samuel, "do you cut my stick yourself;
+I only want seven notches in it, to make believe the days of the week:
+of course, you will not refuse this, will you?"
+
+"Where is your knife, my boy?" asked his aunt; "is it in your pocket?"
+
+"No, aunt."
+
+"Well, get it then, my dear, and do this little kindness for your
+brother, who looks so imploringly there, with his stick in his hand."
+
+Alfred left the room, looking very thoughtful; and Samuel took a seat
+on a stool, keeping his eye on the door, resolved to wait quietly for
+Alfred's return, as he was not an impatient boy. After a considerable
+time, Alfred came back, with a face very much flushed, and no knife
+could be seen.
+
+"Have you got it, Alfred?" asked Samuel, jumping up; "come, do cut my
+notches, because I cannot get on the island and begin to play until it
+is done."
+
+"I cannot do it, Samuel; I have not got my knife."
+
+"Where is your pretty new knife, then, my dear? I saw you put it
+carefully away in a box one day."
+
+"Yes, I did, aunt; but I have just dropped it into a crack in the hall,
+and it is gone out of sight."
+
+"O dear! let us try to get it," said the kind aunt; and away they all
+three ran to the crack in the passage. "Show me exactly the place where
+it went in, Alfred."
+
+"Just here, aunt," said he, pointing to a very small crevice between
+the boards.
+
+"O no; this cannot be the spot, the crack is too small to admit a
+knife: it must be somewhere else. But I see no crack in any other part.
+My dear boy," continued Miss Woodford, looking into Alfred's face, "you
+did not let it down here."
+
+Her gentle words, accompanied as they were with a sorrowful look,
+melted him at once, for Alfred was not a hardened boy, and he ran off
+to his room, weeping all the way.
+
+"Well," said Samuel, as he returned to the parlor, "I suppose I must
+mark some make-believe notches on my stick with my pencil."
+
+Miss Woodford left him to his play, and went in search of her sister,
+the mother of the boys. Taking a seat by her side in the dining-room,
+she asked Mrs. Sinclair if she knew anything of the knife she had given
+to Alfred.
+
+"No," replied Mrs. Sinclair; "I have not seen it for some time: but I
+think I heard James admiring it, on Monday."
+
+"I am afraid it is lost, sister," continued Miss Woodford: "but this is
+not the worst part of it; I greatly fear Alfred has told an untruth
+about the affair."
+
+"I hope not," replied Mrs. Sinclair, with a troubled countenance; "I
+never knew either of my boys to be guilty of anything so shocking.
+Where is he?"
+
+Miss Woodford then related the whole of the circumstances, adding, "I
+believe Alfred has gone to his room."
+
+Mrs. Sinclair considered, for a moment, what course to pursue, and then
+resolved to allow her little son to remain in the retirement he had
+chosen, at least for some time.
+
+Samuel could not enjoy his game alone, for he saw very plainly that his
+brother had been guilty of a great sin; so he went into the garden, and
+walked up and down, feeling very melancholy. He knew that God had said
+that liars have their portion with those who are shut up in eternal
+darkness; and he felt very sorry that he had asked for the loan of the
+knife.
+
+After an hour or two, Mrs. Sinclair went up to converse with the guilty
+boy; but as she was drawing near his room she heard the sound of his
+voice, as if conversing with some one, and, supposing that Samuel had
+joined him, she stopped for a moment to ascertain from whence the voice
+came, when she distinctly heard Alfred saying, "Forgive my sin,
+heavenly Father, for Jesus Christ's sake." This was a confirmation to
+her of the sad fact that he was really guilty of the crime laid to his
+charge; at the same time it was a comfort to her to hear that he was
+penitent. She stepped gently back into the parlor, thankful, amid her
+sorrow, to find that her little boy was confessing his sin to the holy
+God. She could not, however, remain long absent from her erring child,
+but again ascending the stairs, and finding all silent, she entered the
+room.
+
+Alfred was sitting, bathed in tears, with two books by his side, a
+Bible and a prayer-book. "O, mamma!" he exclaimed, "I am ashamed to see
+you--I am--I am; but I will tell you all about it. O, I am so unhappy!
+I am afraid you will not forgive me, and I feel sure the Saviour will
+not."
+
+When he saw the tears falling over his mother's cheeks, he felt more
+distressed than ever, and covering his face with his hands, he wept
+bitterly. At length he went on to confess the whole matter. "You know,
+mamma, my cousin James liked my knife, and asked me to give it to him
+for some sweetmeats he had in his pocket; so I consented to part with
+the knife you gave me, without thinking. I wish I had asked you about
+it. I have been very wicked. I told a lie to try to hide it. What shall
+I do?"
+
+"Are you really sorry for your sin, Alfred? this is the question; or
+are you only mortified that your guilt is discovered?"
+
+"O yes, mamma, I am indeed sorry, and I have been trying to tell God
+about it. I asked him to forgive me, but I am afraid he will not. How
+dreadful it is to think that God will remember that I have told a lie!
+What would become of me, if I were to die to-night?"
+
+Mrs. Sinclair took a chair by the side of her son, and told him if he
+really felt sorry, there was hope he might be forgiven; "for although,"
+said she, "God is a God of truth, and has said that whosoever loveth or
+maketh a lie shall be shut out of heaven, yet he has also said, if we
+repent of our sins, resolving to forsake them, and come to him in the
+name of the Saviour, that he will pardon us for his sake."
+
+"O, I hope he will forgive me! Do pray for me, mamma. What a dreadful
+thing it would be if I should be driven away from heaven at last, and
+go with liars away from God!" Then bursting into tears, Alfred hid his
+face on his mother's neck, and they wept together.
+
+Mrs. Sinclair then prayed with her penitent boy, and he became more
+calm. "Now, my son," she said, "we will go down to the parlor."
+
+"O no, mamma; do let me go to bed: I would rather go to bed, if you
+will only kiss me, and forgive me. I should like to go to bed."
+
+Mrs. Sinclair consented to Alfred's proposal, and after reading a
+chapter in the Bible, and praying to be forgiven all his sins, for the
+sake of Jesus Christ, he retired to rest; but he passed a very
+uncomfortable night, and awoke in the morning with a very sorrowful
+heart.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair had resolved that nothing should be said to their
+son, the next morning, on the subject of the evening's transgression,
+as they believed that he felt truly sorry that he had offended God.
+
+When the bell rung for family worship, Alfred appeared, with Samuel by
+his side; but he looked pale and unhappy, and his eyes were downcast as
+he took his usual seat by his father. The family sung some verses from
+that beautiful hymn beginning,--
+
+    "There is a fountain fill'd with blood
+      Drawn from Immanuel's veins,
+    And sinners plunged beneath that flood
+      Lose all their guilty stains."
+
+Alfred was in the habit of pitching the tunes on those occasions, but
+this morning Samuel took his place, and began the moment the verse was
+given out. When they came to the third line Alfred's tears flowed so
+fast he was obliged to stop; and if you had been sitting near his mamma
+you might have seen her cheek wet too, for she felt deeply for her
+little son.
+
+After breakfast, the two boys went to their studies as usual, and
+Samuel was very kind and attentive to his brother, watching him in all
+his movements, and trying, by all the means within his power, to win a
+smile from him, for his affectionate heart longed to see his brother as
+happy as usual. But all his efforts were unavailing; no one could see a
+gleam of cheerfulness on Alfred's countenance all the day.
+
+Just before dinner, as he was standing by the parlor fire, with his
+back to the door, Rose, a kind Irish servant, came in to prepare the
+table.
+
+"O, then, is it you it is, Master Alfred? I wanted to have a word with
+ye. What's the matter? sure your cheek's pale; it's sick entirely ye'll
+be soon," said the kind-hearted girl, "if you vex any more about that
+bit of a knife; and it's a good half hour I spent too, looking for it:
+but never mind, I am sure the mistress, good creature, will soon give
+ye another, or may be you will soon find the same."
+
+Alfred looked at Rose very thoughtfully, and asked, "Do you not know
+what I have done, Rose?"
+
+"Sure and I never knew ye do anything bad since the day I came with ye
+from Belfast; think of that now, and ye'll do bravely yet, my darlint."
+
+"Ah, Rose! I see very plainly how it is; you do not know what I am. Did
+you ever read the fifth chapter of the Acts, and the twenty-first
+chapter of the Revelation, Rose?"
+
+"Why yes, Master Alfred, to be sure, I've read the Bible through
+entirely, but I don't just remember those particular parts by chapter
+and verse. But what has that to do with the loss, Master Alfred? I want
+to say a word of comfort to you. Think of Miss Mary when she lost her
+handkerchief; the mistress never said a word about it after: and it's
+the flower of the country she is for kindness, when we tell her our
+faults."
+
+"Yes, yes, Rose, I know all that very well; but do you remember hearing
+about Ananias and Sapphira in the Bible?"
+
+"O, if it's I don't remember that! I'll forget kith and kin afore I'll
+forget how afraid I was to tell a lie in the Sunday school, for fear of
+being struck dead; and it's a fine scrape entirely I got into, and lost
+a pretty new frock into the bargain."
+
+"Did you, Rose, indeed? O, I wish I had been you!" and the tears fell
+fast again over the penitent boy's cheeks.
+
+"Ah now, Master Alfred, do not take on so. What can be the matter? Sure
+this story has nothing to do with you, has it?"
+
+"I see how it is, Rose; the dreadful tale has been kept a secret. You
+do not know what I am."
+
+"Is it I do not know what you are, Master Alfred? why sure it's your
+reason entirely ye'll lose by the heart-trouble, whatever it is. Not
+know what ye are? Sure your're a fine young gentleman, and it's the son
+of the mistress ye're for kindness; and the likes o' ye I never saw,
+barrin' your brother, the darlint."
+
+"O, do not talk to me so, Rose; it only makes me more ashamed! I am an
+ungrateful and a sinful boy, and I am afraid I shall never go to
+heaven."
+
+"And is it you that is afraid of that? O dear! what then is come to ye,
+my dear?"
+
+Alfred was out of hearing before Rose had finished her kind speech. He
+could bear his sorrow no longer without talking to his mother.
+
+Mrs. Sinclair was coming out of a little back parlor, with Samuel, as
+Alfred crossed the hall; and, taking his mother's hand, he said, "I
+want to talk to you, mamma."
+
+Mrs. Sinclair led him to her room, and closing the door, she drew a
+chair for him by her side, still holding his hand in hers.
+
+Alfred was weeping too much to utter a syllable for some minutes; but
+when a little recovered, he exclaimed, "O, my dear mamma, I am so
+miserable, I cannot bear to think nor stay by myself. I was afraid to
+go to sleep last night, for I thought perhaps I should awake in that
+dreadful place where liars go; I never was so unhappy before in all my
+life."
+
+"I can easily imagine this, my dear boy," replied Mrs. Sinclair; "you
+were never guilty of the same sin before, I believe."
+
+"You only _believe_, mamma: are you not sure I never told a lie
+before?"
+
+"I hope you never did, my boy."
+
+"Ah! I see it is as you told us one day, a liar can neither convince
+nor persuade others, and is not believed even when he tells the truth.
+Indeed, mamma, I never did tell a lie before; but I was afraid you
+would think me an ungrateful boy for not taking more care of the
+present you gave me. O, I wish I had told the truth, and been more
+afraid of offending God than even you."
+
+"I wish so too, my son. I have avoided saying much to you on the
+subject, because I hope and believe that you are truly sorry, and that
+you have confessed your sin to the great and glorious Being who calls
+himself the God of truth; and you remember after the apostle John had
+been describing the beautiful city, where holy and redeemed people
+shall live when earth is passed away, he says that no one shall enter
+there who maketh a lie. Indeed, a liar could not live in heaven, if he
+were permitted to enter, for everything there is pure and holy."
+
+"Yes, mamma; I have been reading the twenty-first chapter of the
+Revelation, this morning."
+
+"Well, my son, then in the fifteenth Psalm, when the question is asked,
+Who shall dwell in thy holy hill? the answer is, He that speaketh the
+truth in his heart. Then again, we are told by the wise man that lying
+lips are an abomination to the Lord. The holy God, who requireth truth
+in the inward parts, must look upon a child polluted with falsehood
+with just indignation, and as belonging to that fallen spirit who is
+called the father of lies, and who dwells where truth is unknown, and
+where all liars have their part. There truth is never spoken, except to
+deceive, and there repentance and prayer are of no avail."
+
+"O yes, mamma," said the sorrowful Alfred, "I remember the hymn you
+taught me when I was a very little boy--
+
+    'The Lord delights in them that speak
+      The words of truth; but every liar
+    Must have his portion in the lake
+      That burns with brimstone and with fire.'
+
+I never thought I should tell a lie when I used to say that hymn to
+you. O, I wish I could be a little good boy again!" said Alfred, wiping
+away the tears.
+
+"I trust you will yet be a good and holy boy, my son; and the suffering
+you have caused yourself and your family will prove a warning to you:
+but you must not trust to your own deceitful heart, but look to God for
+assistance to make you sincere and truthful. You find your conscience
+does not like a lie, but that it solemnly and dreadfully reproaches the
+liar; and you find too, my son, that to be holy is the only way to be
+happy."
+
+"Yes, mamma, I do; but do you think the Saviour will forgive me, and
+make me happy again?"
+
+"Yes, I have no doubt he will pardon your sin, if you are really sorry,
+and resolve to be watchful in future."
+
+"Yes, mamma, I am indeed sorry, and very sorry, that I should offend
+God, and make you unhappy, and make myself in danger of having my
+portion in the lake that burns with brimstone and with fire."
+
+"Well then the Bible says, if you repent and forsake your sin, God will
+have mercy, and pardon your guilt. He will so forget it, that it will
+never appear against you at the last great day. You know I have often
+told you that the blood of Jesus Christ can wash away all sin, and
+_all_ must of course include yours. You can read this for yourself
+in the First Epistle of John, the first chapter, and the seventh
+verse."
+
+Just then the dinner-bell rung, and Mrs. Sinclair and Alfred went down
+to dinner. As they were entering the parlor, they met Rose, who had
+been greatly concerned about her favorite; and she whispered in his
+ear, "Come down to me, darlint, after the dinner: I want to say a word
+to ye."
+
+Everybody tried to be cheerful at dinner; but Alfred could not forget
+his "heart-trouble," as Rose called it, nor had he much inclination for
+food.
+
+When the repast was over, and Rose had cleared the room, he went down
+to hear what she had to say to him. The kind-hearted girl slipped a
+small parcel into his hand, wrapped in silver paper, saying, "There,
+then, darlint; now sure ye'll dry your poor red eyes up entirely, and
+think no more about it and the loss."
+
+On opening the parcel, Alfred looked upon a pretty knife, very like the
+one his mamma had given him, and putting it on the table, he ran up to
+Rose, saying, "I cannot allow you to think me so much better than I am,
+Rose. I have been guilty of the same sin as Ananias and Sapphira; and
+it is a wonder the great God has not driven me away from earth too."
+
+Poor Rose was so greatly surprised that she looked at him some time in
+silence, while he continued,--
+
+"Rose, you thought me a good boy, but I am very wicked. I gave away my
+knife, and then told a lie to try to hide it; but I hope I shall be
+forgiven, and mamma says the blood of Christ can wash all my guilt
+away."
+
+"Sure then, dear, the mistress is right entirely; and I hope you will
+be happy, as you used to be. Your poor eyes have done nothing but blink
+since the time the aunt searched in the hall for the knife; and it was
+sighing I heard ye when sleep gave them a little rest, that sure I
+didn't close mine very comfortably. So I just got the boy to run for
+his life, and get ye a pretty white knife at the shop, for it's a
+strong pet ye are of all of us entirely."
+
+"This is very kind of you, Rose: and may I do what I like with the
+knife, Rose?"
+
+"Sure you may, and it's yours entirely; only don't vex any more: let us
+see ye as merry as the kitten, as the likes o' ye ought to be."
+
+The next morning Alfred and Samuel walked to their cousin's; and as
+soon as James saw them, he ran up, presenting the unfortunate knife to
+Alfred, saying, "Ma does not wish me to keep it; so take it back."
+
+Alfred then told his aunt the whole of the affair, as quietly as his
+feelings would allow; and then desired that James might be allowed to
+have the knife Rose had given him, in exchange. As all the sweetmeats
+were eaten, it would not be fair to have back the knife without some
+return.
+
+Alfred soon ran home with his own knife, and placed it in its own box,
+intending to keep it as a warning to him in future.
+
+It is believed that Alfred was really and truly sorry for his sin; and
+he grew up a truthful and pious boy, dreading the very appearance of
+anything approaching to a lie.
+
+Dear children, see that you always speak the truth. Remember anything
+you say INTENDING TO DECEIVE is a lie in the sight of God; and
+remember too that for all such words you will be called to give an
+account in the day of judgment.
+
+He who made the eye can see, and he who made the ear can hear. Yes! and
+he will remember all you say and do; and if you should be suddenly
+called away, without repenting of your sin, and without being washed in
+the blood of the Saviour, by believing in him, you must have your
+portion where the worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched. Now the
+dear Redeemer is ready to receive you, but to-morrow it may be too
+late: to-morrow may never come to you; for death may take you away this
+night.
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Penitent Boy, by Daniel Parish Kidder
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 43918 ***