Parables from Flowers Part 5

'You can but try, my lad, to be as great and good as they were;' and he added, 'You can enter upon your new work next week; there is a vacancy for you.'

'But, sir,'--and the boy paused,--'shall I earn wages like I do now?

because'--

And his voice failed him, he could not utter the thought of his heart,--should he still be able to help his mother?

The gentleman understood his hesitation, for he said kindly,--

'Yes, my little man, you will earn good wages, and, if you are only good and steady like your poor father before you, I've no doubt but that you may become a great man one day;' and he smiled encouragingly into the boy's upturned face, a face which was beaming with hope and happiness.

As to Davie, he raised his generous friend's hand to his lips, for he could not speak for very grat.i.tude; then, with his blue eyes sparkling with joy, ran quickly home to tell the blissful news.

'Mother, mother!' he cried, bursting in upon her as she sat at work; 'I _shall_ become a great man now, and you shall ride in a carriage, and never work any more;' and then, with his arms around her neck and his curly head resting lovingly upon her shoulder, he poured forth his bright hopes for the future.

So the last day came for working in the dark mine, and to-morrow--oh, to-morrow!

'But I'll miss ye, Davie,' Mat Morgan observed, as he and his little friend trudged on side by side to work; 'ye be bright and cheery-like down there,' pointing with his pipe towards the pit. 'And maybe ye'll forget the missis and me when ye gets to be a great man, as ye says ye'll be one day, and I makes no doubt but ye will be too. Ye be summat like yer poor fayther, my lad; he were allers above we.'

'Nay, Master Morgan!' cried the boy reproachfully; 'were you not my first friend, when dear father died? You don't mean that, I know!

looking up at his old friend's rugged face with eyes full of tears.

Then, brus.h.i.+ng them away with his jacket sleeve,--it was not manly to cry, he thought,--he continued, 'No, when I am rich, you and Mrs. Morgan shall both live in a big house with mother and me; we will ride in a grand carriage, and be so happy all together, and never look at black coals except to burn them.'

The old miner smiled as he listened to the boy's bright day-dreams, yet still he could not help feeling somewhat sad, for he dearly loved the lad, and knew how much he should miss his merry chatter and song, which so beguiled the time while they worked together down in the mine.

But the time pa.s.sed on much as on other days; when, just as they were preparing to leave off work, and another gang was coming to relieve them, a low, rumbling sound was heard. One or two of the men ran to the entrance of the working, Mat Morgan among the number, and his face was blanched when he returned to his comrades.

'What is it, Master Morgan?' asked Davie, looking up at him with an undefined dread.

'My lad,' was his reply, and his voice was very calm, 'there has been a landslip in the sidings, and we are shut in.'

'But can we not get out?' he questioned.

'No, never again, unless help comes,' he hoa.r.s.ely whispered, for his brave heart stood still at the terrible danger they were in.

Indeed, no pen can express the terror that filled the hearts of these brave and hardy men at the thought of being thus entombed in a living grave; they quailed not when meeting death face to face, but shrank in dread at the slowly advancing foe.

All but the boy!

The light from the flickering lamps the miners carried fell upon his delicate features; but his eyes brightly gleamed, as, laying his hands on the bowed head of his old friend, he softly said,--

'Master Morgan, let us not fear; our G.o.d is with us still!'

'Maybe He has forgotten us, Davie,' the man pitifully moaned, for even his strong courage had broken down in face of this calamity.

'No, no,' soothed the boy. '"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for Thou art with me:" is it not so?'

There was something so calm, so trustful in the child's faith in G.o.d's mercy, that the poor stricken men listened as he tried to cheer them with thoughts of that Power who is mighty to save.

The weary hours dragged their slow length along, and, though help came not yet, his perfect trust in G.o.d never wavered. Some of the men gave themselves up to despair, and lay down where they had sat cowering, prepared to die. The lamps went out by degrees as the oil was expended, adding to the horror of the situation by leaving them in utter darkness.

And yet, though death appeared so near, it had no terrors for little Davie, for G.o.d was nearer still.

'Shall I sing to you, Master Morgan?' the boy asked, as he laid his weary head down upon his friend's broad shoulder.

'Ay, ay, my lad,' was the sole reply the poor man could make.

Then through the awful silence and darkness of this fearful grave rang the sweet, clear tones of the child's voice, singing--

'Rock of Ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in Thee.'

'Hark!' he cried, suddenly pausing in the hymn; 'they are striving to clear the working--I hear the sound of their picks! We are saved! we are saved!' he joyously shouted.

With the sense of hearing preternaturally sharpened, these poor men, who had given themselves up for lost, also listened; those who had lain down to die rising up and listening with every nerve acutely strained to catch the faintest sound. Yes, they could hear their deliverers bravely working to set them free.

Then arose as with one voice their glad song of deliverance,--

'Thou canst save, and Thou alone!'

Tenderly they bore him home to his mother, that brave, n.o.ble child, whose simple trust had sustained their failing hearts in that hour of trial and suffering.

But reaction had set in, and he was weak and fainting when they laid him in her arms, yet he feebly murmured, striving for her sake to appear still strong,--

'Oh, mother darling, I am so glad to be at home again! I thought I should never more see you, nor my Evening Primrose. But, mother, why is it still so dark?'

She glanced in terror at his soft blue eyes, which to her looked as clear as ever. But why was it that, though the morning light was streaming in through the open window, to him it still was dark?

She breathed not one word of her fear to him, though the icy dread chilled her to the heart, but, laying him gently down in his own cosy bed, Soothed him with loving caresses, bidding him--

'Try to sleep, and forget it all!'

Then, when sleep came to the over-wrought brain, she left him in the care of a kindly neighbour, and went tremblingly forth to seek her child's trusty old friend.

She found Mat Morgan seated in his arm-chair (for, like the rest of the miners who had been in this imminent peril, he had escaped unhurt), recounting to a group of neighbours the wonderful faith of little Davie, whose trust in G.o.d never failed, even when the shadows of the dark angel's wings had hovered so closely over them.

'Oh, Master Morgan!' the poor mother cried, as with clasped hands and quivering lips she overheard him thus dilating on her boy's n.o.ble fort.i.tude and humble Christian faith; 'my darling Davie! he will never, never look on us again this side the grave. He'--

'He be no dead, ma'am!' exclaimed the old man, starting from his chair, while sympathizing friends gathered round her with words of tender pity.

'No, no, not dead, thank G.o.d!' she sobbed; 'but blind, I fear. Oh, my little boy, my Davie!'

'Maybe not,' he replied, endeavouring to comfort her. 'I'll jest go wi'

ye. I've known sich things afore, when men have been shut up in the dark some hours,--and _we_ were nigh upon three days in the pit, mind ye--the shock of seein' the daylight kind o' dazes the sight for a while. So ye must not greet, but hope and trust in our heavenly Father, as your little lad ever does, I'm thinkin'! Come along.'