Grateful Peter's new year's gift
As to the "comforter" of bright scarlet wool, her new year's gift,
Sally did not know how to admire it enough. Peter insisted that she
should put it on at once, and his face was almost as bright as Sally's
smart present when she declared it was "a comforter both by name and
natur'."
Then Sally went home again, to shed in secret the tears which she had
so bravely restrained while in Peter's presence, and to realise more
than ever how very dull was the cellar in Number Three Court without
her lad to brighten it.
After two or three days, when Peter's head had somewhat recovered from
the effects of its bumps and bruises, Mr. Russell brought his little
daughter Alice to see the boy. She was a warm-hearted little thing
of nine years old, and thoughtful beyond her age. She had been very
carefully and lovingly taught by a good mother, and her great desire
was to be of some use in the world. Alice was very anxious to see
Peter, of whom her father had told her a great deal, and at last she
had leave to come and sit by him for a while.
"I am very sorry you had so much pain," said the little girl. "Are you
better now, Peter?"
"My leg often hurts me a good deal, but my head does not ache. Still,
you know, it isn't very pleasant to lie here always, when I've been
used to run about the day through."
"No, it isn't; but I hope you will get quite strong before very long.
Papa says you were standing outside that house in Kay Street Where the
party was on New Year's Eve."
"Yes; I stood ever so long. Eh, but you were laughing and making a
noise. I wished I was inside."
"I daresay, for it was so cold and windy outside. I don't know how you
could stand at all. I should have had a cold and cough, and I don't
know what beside, if I had stood there even a little while."
"But then, miss, I'm used to being out in all sorts of weather, and it
does not hurt me."
"Papa says you go out selling things; but he has been talking to Dr.
Turner about you, and he wants you to learn something better. I do hope
you will."
The lad's face brightened, and he said, heartily, "Don't I wish I'd a
chance!"
"You will have one, I know. Papa never forgets anything, and he says
he'll help you. And see, Peter, here is some cake mamma has sent you,
and two oranges. And now shall I read to you?"
"Yes, if you please, miss; and thank your mamma for sending me the
things."
"What shall we read about?"
"Just what you like, miss," said Peter, rather amused at the question.
"Well, I've got something here. It is called 'The Old, Old Story.'
Perhaps you have read it, though?"
Peter shook his head.
"Then I'll read it first. It's all about Jesus; and, as Christmas is
only just over, it will be nice. Had you a merry Christmas, Peter?"
The boy smiled. He could understand how little the child knew of "his"
world, so he just answered, "Middling, miss. But please read to me
about Jesus. I don't know that story at all, I'm sure."
If ever a face expressed astonishment, that face was Alice Russell's.
But, fortunately, she remembered that her papa had told her Peter was
very ignorant, with no parents to teach him. So she thought it best
just to read the "Old, Old Story," and let it speak for itself.
Very slowly and solemnly the child read the wondrous tale—
"Of Jesus and His glory,
Of Jesus and His love."
Peter listened—how he did listen! And, as the child's clear voice
sounded in the long ward, other eyes were turned towards her, sounds
ceased, and pale faces were lighted up as the words of that story which
"always seems so new" reached their ears.
The little girl's thoughts were, however, absorbed in her story and him
for whom specially she was reading. As she finished the tale of man's
fall, of God's love for sinners, which made Him give His own dear Son
to die as "the remedy for sin," she looked at Peter, while her own eyes
were filled with tears.
Her young hearer was as much stirred as herself. As she closed the
leaves of her little book, he said, "Miss, I never heard such a story
as that before. It isn't true, is it?"
"Oh yes, Peter, it is. Why, it's in the Bible, and everything in the
Bible is true. Mamma taught me about it when I was such a little girl;
and I thought everybody knew, except the poor heathen in countries a
long way off, where the missionaries go. But the next time I come, I'll
bring my Bible, and read about it there."
"Will you come again to-morrow, miss? I do so want you to read again,
and bring that story too."
"I'll leave it with you, Peter. It is not like a big book. You can
read, I know, and the print is large, so you will hold it and read it
easily. If papa will let me, and the doctors will not be angry, I will
come again to-morrow. Now, good-bye. Papa is beckoning me away."
The child went to her father, who was in conversation with Dr. Turner.
In reply to their questions, she told them what she had been reading,
and that Peter had not heard of Jesus until she read him "The Old, Old
Story."
"He wants me to come again to-morrow," she said. "Papa, you will bring
me, will you not? And you will allow me to come in, sir, won't you?"
Dr. Turner smiled, and told the little girl she should come every day,
if her papa liked.
"And I am to bring my Bible the next time. Peter has no Bible. Papa, I
thought everybody in this country knew about Jesus."
"I wish it were so, my child," replied Mr. Russell. "But here, in
Christian England, there are thousands of heathens who know nothing of
Christ. Peter Grant has had no loving mother to teach him, and there
are many who grow up just as ignorant. My little Alice will be very
happy, and begin this year with gladness, if she should be permitted
to bring the 'glad tidings of salvation' through Christ to the ears of
this poor boy. And we will pray, little one, that God may bless you,
and bring home the precious truths to this poor lad's heart by the
teaching of His Holy Spirit."
CHAPTER IV.
New Homes.
[Illustration] MR. RUSSELL and Dr. Turner had soon found out how
extremely ignorant Peter was. In the neighbourhood of his poor home,
the name of God was seldom used except in blasphemy. That name Peter
knew, and that was almost all. They were anxious to teach him better
things, and now that he was obliged to lie quiet, they wished to sow
the precious seed of God's Word, in the hope that it might take root
and bring forth fruit to God's glory and Peter's eternal good.
"I believe a child would be the best teacher for Peter," said Dr.
Turner. "Let your little girl come and read to him. She is sure to
repeat her mother's lessons in the boy's ears, and we can guide her as
to what she should read."
Little Alice knew nothing except that she was to be allowed to read to
the poor boy in the hospital, but she was delighted to go and ask her
mamma for a copy of "The Old, Old Story," first to read to, then leave
with Peter. This was readily given to her, as we have seen.
To Peter the little book was a great treasure. He read it again,
and the more he read, the more he wondered. He wished for his child
visitor's return, and his face flushed with pleasure as he saw her
coming softly towards his corner of the ward.
"I've read the story three times over," he said, without waiting for
any greetings from Alice.
"And you like it, don't you?"
"Yes, only I don't understand what it means."
"I've brought my Bible, and that will tell you. Doesn't it seem strange
to have such a big book to make us understand that little thing? But
you see that 'Old, Old Story' is just Bible story turned into verses."
It would take too long to tell the particulars of Alice's lessons
to Peter. She was eager to tell, and he to learn. He asked endless
questions, and she began by reading first the story of Adam and Eve,
and then other portions of Scripture, so that he might learn about
Jesus.
How the lad was charmed with the account of the Babe of Bethlehem,
cradled in a manger! Then of the Great Physician healing all manner of
sickness, and enabling the lame to walk, all in a moment, the blind to
see, and the dumb to speak.
He learned that Christmas, with its gaily-decked shops, its ruddy
holly-berries and shining mistletoe, its good cheer and kind wishes,
had a deeper better meaning. He saw that it was a remembrance of
the time when the angels came with their song, "Glory to God in the
highest, and on earth peace, goodwill towards men."
He, lying there helpless, realised as few can do, what joy it would be
to hear the Saviour say, "Arise, take up thy bed and walk." And he,
who had often known what hunger was, seemed to see the bountiful Giver
blessing the loaves and feeding the hungry multitude in the wilderness.
He wanted to know what had become of Jesus. Where was now this Saviour?
So, day by day, little by little, Peter heard the whole story, not only
of the life, but the death of Christ, and of His being now exalted "a
Prince and a Saviour" at the right hand of God. He lay and thought of
these wondrous things—so old a story, yet to him so new. And then he
said, "Surely He could not die for me. I was not living then."
Then the elders came in to little Alice's aid as teachers, and strove
to make plain what she could not. When Peter understood at last that
he too had a share in that great Saviour, his heart was filled with
grateful gladness and a wish to do something to show his gratitude.
Many read the story without a thought of love to this dear Saviour.
But, to the poor lad who now heard it for the first time, it seemed
wonderful that anybody could help loving Jesus.
Time sped, and Peter continued to recover steadily. He wondered
whether, after all, he should have to go back to Number Three Court,
Back Potter Street, and begin his old trade again. He shrank from the
thought of it. He had had a glimpse of a new and better life, and he
longed to see more. The hospital had been to Peter a precious ark
of refuge. He would never think of it as the scene of his pain and
suffering, but of healing and peace for soul and body.
Back Potter Street and its courts had dirt and squalor, rough, coarse
actions, and impure words as their constant surroundings. And even old
Sally, with all her love, had been able to tell him nothing of that
love "which passeth knowledge." He wanted to go on learning himself,
and that his old friend should become a scholar too. How was this to be
brought about?
The day drew near when Peter would be discharged cured. While anxious
to work, he was almost afraid to think about going out into his world
again. He would have to bid farewell to the motherly nurse who had been
so tender and kind; to the doctors, whose skill had been the means of
his cure; and, above all, to the child-teacher who had first brought to
him the message of the gospel. Why, in leaving the hospital, he would
turn his back on the best home he had ever known. Peter's fears and
doubts were soon set at rest. His friends had been busy for him, and,
after having shown so much kindness, would not now leave him to battle
with the world alone.
"So you are to go out to-day, Peter," said Dr. Turner, on the morning
fixed for the lad's discharge.
"Yes, sir," answered Peter. "I told Sally about it last time she was
here."
"That is all right enough; but we are not going to let you out of our
hands altogether yet. We have a nice place belonging to the hospital,
a few miles away in the country. It is called a 'Convalescent Home,'
and it is for patients to go to, who, like you, are well, but not very
strong. You are to go there for three weeks to get up your strength and
learn something about flowers and fields and green trees."
Peter could hardly believe his ears. What, go away into the country,