The way to do good

Front matter

GIFT OF

YOUNG CHRISTIAN SERIES.

IN FOUR VOLUMES.

Chapter XII. Conclusion, 392

ENGRAVINGS.

THE GREEN MOUNTAINS,

Page 13

ALONZO,

THE BRIDE, ....

HOME, THE VISIT, .....

. 58

THE SEA-SHORE,

THE REFORM, ....

82 94

THE TRAVELERS,

INSUBMISSION, ....

THE BEGGAR GIRL,

THE CABIN, ....

THE INTERIOR, ....

139 140

THE POST-OFFICE, .

JOHN THE BAPTIST,

THE WILD FLOWERS,

ASSUMED AUTHORITY, .

. 192 205

. 210

THE CATHEDRAL,

THE CRIPPLE, ....

THE SICK CHAMBER, . .

FIRST STEPS, ....

ENGRAVINGS.

COUNTING, . ' . . 293

THE BALLOON, 297

THE BOAT, 306

THE SNOW-BIRDS, . . 321

THE BOTANIST, 331

ERROR, 357

A HOME, 376

THE WAGON, 379

THE WOOL MERCHANT, 387

SUFFERING, 395

THE FOUNTAIN, 399

THE ¥AY TO DO GOOD

Chapter I

WORKS AND FAITH, OR THE STORY OF ALONZO. " Created in Christ Jesus unto good works."

Works and faith.

THE exact nature of the connection which subsists between faith and good works, in the salvation of man, is a subject which, in a volume on THE WAY TO Do GOOD, ought to be well understood at the outset. I can best convey to my young reader what I wish to say on this point by relating to him the story of Alonzo.

THE WAY TO DO GOOD.

Alonzo's home. The farm-yard. Occupations of childhood.

Alonzo was a Vermont boy. His father lived in one of those warm and verdant dells which give a charm to the scenery of the Green Mountains. The low, hroad farmhouse, with its barns and sheds, hay-stacks and high woodpiles, made almost a little village, as they lay spread out in a sunny opening near the head of the glen. A winding road repeatedly crossing a brook which meandered among the trees, down the valley, guided the traveler to the spot. The wide yard was filled with domestic animals, the sheds were well stored with the utensils of the farm, lilac trees and rose bushes ornamented the front of the dwelling, and from the midst of a little green lawn upon one side of the house, was a deep clear spring, walled in with moss-covered stones, and pouring up continually from below, a full supply of cool, clear water. A group of willows hung over the spring, and a well-trod footpath led to it from the house.

A smooth fiat stone lay before the " end door," as they called it, which led to the spring. Here, during the second year of his life, Alonzo might have been seen almost every sunny day, playing with buttercups and daisies, or digging with the kitchen shovel in the earth before the door, or building houses of corn-cobs, brought for his amusement, in a basket, from the granary. The next summer, had you watched him, you would have observed that his range was wider, and his plans of amusement a little more enlarged. He had a garden, two feet square, where he planted green sprigs, broken from the shrubs around him, and he would make stakes with a dull house knife, partly for the pleasure of making them, and partly for the pleasure of driving them into the ground. He would ramble up and down the path a little way, and sometimes go with his mother down to the spring, to see her dip the bright tin pail into the water, and to gaze with astonishment at the effect of the commotion, — for the stony wall of the spring seemed always to be broken

The phenomenon. A struggle. Dialogue with conscience.

to pieces, and its fragments to wave and float about in confusion, until gradually they returned to their places and to rest, and then, for aught he could see, looked exactly as before. This extraordinary phenomenon astonished him again and again.

One day Alonzo's mother saw him going alone, down toward the spring. He had got the pail, and was going to try the wonderful experiment himself. His mother called him back, and forbade his ever going there alone. " If you go there alone," said she, " you will fall in and be drowned."

Alonzo was not convinced by the reason, but he was awed by the command, and for many days he obeyed. At length, however, when his mother was occupied in another part of the house, he stole away softly down the path a little way.

There was a sort of a struggle going on within him while he was doing this. " Alonzo," said Conscience, for even at this early age, conscience had begun to be developed, " Alonzo, this is very wrong."

Conscience must be conquered, if conquered at all, not by direct opposition, but by evasion and deceit, and the deceiving and deceitful tendencies of the heart are very early developed.

" I am not going down to the spring," said Alonzo to himself, " I am only going down the path, a little way."

"Alonzo," said Conscience, again, "this is wrong."

" Mother will not see me, and I shall not go quite down to the water, so that no harm will be done," said the child to himself in reply, — and went hesitatingly on.

"Alonzo," said Conscience, a third time, but with a feebler voice, — " you ought not to go any farther."

" My mother is too strict with me, — there can be no harm in my walking as far as this."

Early gin. Its nature. Self-deception.

He lingered a little while about half-way down the path, and then slowly returned, — the dialogue between Conscience and his heart going on all the time. The latter had succeeded so well in its artful policy, that when he came back, he really hardly knew whether he had done wrong or not. It did not seem quite right, and a certain restless uneasiness at the recollection of it remained on his mind ; but his heart had succeeded by its evasions and subterfuges in making so much of a question of the whole transaction, that he could not really decide that it was actually wrong. Alonzo had been taught that God had made him, and that he watched over him at all times, hut somehow or other he did not happen to think of him at all during this affair. He had also understood something of his obligations to his mother, for her kindness and love to him ; — hut he did not happen to think of her now in this light. The contest consisted simply, on the one side, of the low murmurings of conscience, sternly insisting that he was wrong, and on the other, the turnings and shiftings and windings of a deceitful heart attempting to quiet her, or at least to drown her remonstrances.

I have dwelt thus particularly upon the philosophy of this early sin, because this was the way in which Alonzo committed all his sins for many years afterward. Conscience made him uncomfortable while he was transgressing, but then his heart contrived such a variety of evasions and queries, and Drought in so many utterly foreign considerations, that whenever he was doing any thing wrong, he never seemed to have, at the time while he was doing it, a distinct idea that it was clearly and positively wrong. For instance, a few days after the transaction above described, his mother had gone away, — intending to be absent some hours, — and his sister who had the care of him, had left him alone at the door. He took up the pail, and began to walk slowly down the path. Conscience, defeated before, and familiarized to a

\VOIIKS AND FAITH. 17

A second transgression. Progress in sin.

certain degree of transgression, allowed him to go without opposition a part of the way, but when she perceived that he was actually approaching the spring, she shook her head, and renewed her low, solemn murmuring.

" Alonzo, Alonzo, you must not go there."

" I shall not fall in, I know," said Alonzo to himself.

"Alonzo! — Alonzo! — Alonzo !" said Conscience again, — " you must not disobey."

Alonzo tried not to hear her, and instead of answering, he said to himself,

" It was many days ago, that she told me not to come. She did not mean never."

This was true literally, and yet it may seem surprising that Alonzo could for one instant deceive himself with such an argument. But any pretense is sufficient to deceive ourselves with when we wish to sin. In such cases we love to be deceived.

While saying that his mother could not have meant that he must never come, Alonzo leaned over the spring, and tremblingly plunged in his pail. The magic effect was produced. The stones and moss waved and quivered, to Alonzo' s inexpressible delight. His mind was in a state of feverish excitement, — Conscience calling upon him, and in vain endeavoring to make him hear, — fear whispering eagerly that he might be seen, — and curiosity urging him again and again to repeat his wonderful experiment.

Alonzo was a very little child, and the language in which I am obliged to describe his mental states, and the words with which I clothe his thoughts, may seem more mature than the reality in such a case could have been. In fact they are so. He could not have used such language, and yet it describes correctly the thoughts and feelings which really passed within his bosom.

At length, he hastily drew out his pail, and went back to

The heart deceitful above all things. Progress. Influence of education.

the house. Conscience endeavored then, when the excitement of the experiment was over, to gain his attention. His heart, still bent on deceiving and being deceived, evaded the subject.

" My mother said," thought he, " that I should fall in, and be drowned if I went there, and I did not fall in ; I knew I should not fall in."

Thus, instead of thinking of his guilt and disobedience, he was occupied with the thought of the advantage which he had gained over his mother, — that is, the heart which ought to have been penitent and humbled, under the burden of sin, was deluding itself with the false colors which it had spread over its guilt, and was filled with deceit and selfcongratulation.

Year after year passed on, and Alonzo grew in strength and stature ; but he continued much the same in heart. Instead of playing on the round, flat door stone, he at length might be seen riding on his father's plow, — or tossing about the drying grass in the mowing field, — or gathering berries upon the hillside, on some summer afternoon. He was continually committing sins in the manner already described. These sins were different in circumstance and character as he grew older, but their nature, so far as the feelings of the heart were concerned, were the same. There was the same murmuring of conscience ; there were the same windings and evasions of his heart ; the same self-deception ; the same success in leading himself to doubt whether the act of aggression, which for the time being he was committing, was right or wrong. His parents, in most respects, brought him up well. They taught him his duty, and when they knew that he did wrong, they remonstrated with him seriously, or, if necessary, they punished him. Thus his conscience was cherished, and kept alive, as it were, and he was often deterred by her voice from committing many sins. She held

Alonzo's virtues. His piety.

him much in check. His parents formed in him many good habits which he adhered to faithfully as habits, — and thus so far as the influence of his parents could go, in aiding conscience, and in habituating him to certain duties, — so far he wan in most cases, deterred from the commission of sin. In other things, however, that is those to which these influences did not reach, he sinned without scruple. For example, he would have shuddered at stealing, even a pin, from his sister; but he would by unreasonable wishes and demands, give her as much trouble, and occasion her as much loss of enjoyment, as if he had stolen a very valuable article from her. If he had undertaken to steal a little picture from her desk, conscience would have thundered so terribly, that he could not possibly have proceeded ; but he could tease and vex her by his unreasonable and selfish conduct, without any remorse. If his heart had been honest and shrewd in discovering its own real character, these cases would have taught him that his honesty was artificial and accidental, and did not rest on any true foundation, — but his heart was not honest, nor shrewd in respect to itself ; it loved to be deceived, and when he read of a theft in a story-book, he took great pleasure in thinking what a good, honest boy he himself was.

So he would not, on any account, have omitted to say his prayers, morning and night ; but whenever he committed sin in the course of the day, he never thought of going away alone before God to confess it, and to ask forgiveness. Now if his heart had been honest and shrewd in discovering his own character, this would have taught him that his piety was all a mere form, and that he had no real affection for God. But his heart was not thus honest and shrewd, and though he never thought much about it, he still had an impression on his mind that he was the friend of God, and that he regularly worshiped him. He knew very well that he sometimes committed sin, but he imagined that it was very

The way to manage conscience. Alonzo's discovery.

seldom that he did so. For as we have already explained, it was very seldom, when he was actually engaged in transgression, that he had a distinct and clear conception that what he was then doing was positively wrong. He always so far succeeded in blinding or misleading conscience as to make it doubtful. And if he could succeed in making a question of it, he would go and commit the sin, with a half-formed idea of examining the case afterward. But then wheu the pleasure of the sin was over, he found that the moral character of the transaction was, somehow or other, rather a disagreeable subject to investigate ; so he left it, laid away, as it were, in his memory, to fester and rankle there. And though he had such a number of these recollections as to give him no little uneasiness and annoyance, he still thought he was a very virtuous and promising young man.

One day, Alonzo made a discovery which startled and alarmed him a little. He was about twelve years old. Some young men had formed a plan of ascending a certain mountain summit, the extremity of a lofty ridge, which projected like a spur from the main range, and which reared its rocky head among the clouds, in full view from his father's door. They had fixed upon Sabbath evening for this purpose, an hour or two before sunset. " A great many people, you know," said one of the boys, " think that the Sabbath ends at sunset, and an hour or so before will not make any great difference. We must be up in season to see the sun go down." This disposal of the difficulty was abundantly satisfactory to all those who were inclined to go, but Alonzo had some doubts whether it would appear equally conclusive to his father and mother. One thing favored, however. His father was away, having been absent on some business for the town, for several days ; and Alonzo thought that there was at least a possibility that his mother would find the deficiencies in the reasoning made up by a little extra per-

WORKS AND Jr'AlTH. 21

Asking mother. Maternal firmness. Effects.

suasion, and that her consent to his sharing in the pleasure of the excursion would be obtained. At any rate, it was plainly worth while to try.

He accordingly came in on Saturday afternoon, and standing by the side of his mother, who was finishing some sewing necessary to complete her preparations for the Sabbath, with much hesitancy and circumlocution he preferred his request. She listened to him with surprise, and then told him he must not go.

" It would be very wrong," said she.

" But, mother, we shall walk along very still ; we will not laugh or play. It will only be taking a little walk after sunset."

Alonzo's mother was silent.

" Come, mother," said the boy, hoping that he had made some impression, "do let me go. Do say yes, — just this once."

After a moment's pause, she replied,

" Some persons do indeed suppose that the Sabbath ends at sunset, but we think it continues till midnight, and we pan not shift and change the hours to suit our pleasures. Now, with all your resolutions about walking still, you know very well that such an expedition, with such companions, will not be keeping holy the Sabbath day. You come to me, therefore, with a proposal that I will allow you to disobey, directly and openly, one of the plainest of God's commands. It is impossible that I should consent."

While his mother was saying these words, emotions of anger and indignation began to rise and swell in Alonzo's bosom, until, at length, foreseeing how the sentence would end, he began to walk ofF toward the door, and almost before the last words were uttered, he was gone. He shut the door violently, muttering to himself, " It is always just so."

In a state of wretchedness and sin, which my readers, if

The seat in the orchard. Conflicting emotions.

they have ever acted as Alonzo did, can easily conceive of, he walked out of the house, and sank down upon a bench which he had made in the little orchard. Here he gave full flow for a few minutes to the torrent of boiling passion which had so suddenly burst out of his heart. In a short tkne, however, the excitement of his feelings subsided a little, and there came suddenly a sort of flash of moral light, which seemed to reveal to him for an instant the true character of the transaction.

Something within him seemed to say, " What an unreasonable, ungrateful, wicked boy you are, Alonzo. Here is your mother — as kind a mother as ever lived. You owe her your very being. She has taken care of you for years, without any return, and has done every thing to make you happy ; and now because she can not consent to let you do what is most clearly wrong, your heart is full of anger, malice and revenge. What a heart ! Love, duty, — all are forgotten, and every feeling of gratitude for long years of kindness is obliterated, by one single interference with your wicked desires."

This reflection, which it will require some time to read, occupied but an instant in passing through Alonzo's mind. It flashed upon him for a moment, and was gone, — and the dark, heavy clouds of anger and ill-will, rolled again over his soul. He sat upon the bench in moody silence.

At length, he began again to see that he was very wrong ; such feelings toward his mother were, he knew, unreasonable and sinful, and he determined that he would not indulge them. So he arose, and walked through a small gate, into the yard, where a large pile of long logs were lying, one of which had been rolled down and partly cut off, in the process of preparing fuel from it for the fire. Alonzo took up the axe and went to work. But he soon learned that it was one thing to see that his feelings were wrong, and another thing to feel

Healing the hurt slightly. Alonzo's opinion of himself.

right. His mind was in a sort of chaos. Floating visions of the party ascending the hill, — vexation at his disappointment,— uneasiness at the recollection of his unkind treatment of his mother, all mingled together in his soul. " I wish I could feel right toward mother about this," said he to himself; but somehow or other, there seemed gathering over his heart a kind of casing of dogged sullenness, which he could not break or dispel. At least he thought he could not ; so he concluded that it would be best for the present to forget the whole affair. He laid down the axe, therefore, and began to pick up some chips and sticks to carry in for kindling the morning fire ; and he secretly determined that when he went in and met his mother again, he would not evince any more of his impatience and anger, but would act "just as if nothing had happened."

Just as if nothing had happened ! What, after evincing toward his mother so much disrespect, ingratitude, and disobedience, act as if nothing had happened ! The proper thought to have arisen to his mind would have been, " I will go to my mother, and confess my fault, and humbly beg her forgiveness for my undutiful and ungrateful behavior.'

But Alonzo did not make any such reflection. His heart, clinging to his sin, loved to be deceived by it. It seemed to him impossible to feel the relenting of true, heartfelt penitence, and that love and gratitude which he knew his mother deserved, — and especially that cheerful acquiescence in her decision, which he knew he ought to feel. So he concluded to forget all about it, — and the poisoned fountain which had so suddenly burst forth in his heart, was covered up again, and smoothed over, ready to boil out anew, upon any new occasion.

This and a few other similar occurrences, led Alonzo sometimes to think that there might be deeper sources of moral difficulty in his heart, than he had been accustomed

An incident. The walk through the woods.

to imagine ; but he did not think much about it, and his life passed on vfrithout much thought or care in respect to his character or prospects as a moral being. He had, however, a sort of standing suspicion that there was something wrong, — quite wrong, but he did not stop to examine the case. The little uneasiness which this suspicion caused, was soothed and quieted in some measure, by a sort of prevailing idea, that after all, there was a great deal that was very excellent in his conduct and character. He was generally considered a pretty good boy. He knew this, very well ; and one of the grossest of the forms of deceitfulness which the heart assumes, is, to believe that we deserve all that others give us credit for, even where the good qualities in question are merely the most superficial and shallow pretense.

One incident occurred about this time, which almost opened Alonzo's eyes to the true character of some of his virtues. During the winter months he went to school, and the good qualities which he fancied that he exhibited there, were among those on which he most prided himself. One afternoon, as he was walking home, with a green satchel full of books slung over his shoulder, he stopped a few minutes at the brook which crossed the road, and looked down over the bridge upon the smooth dark-colored ice which covered the deep water. It looked so clear and beautiful, that he went down and cautiously stepped upon it. It was so transparent that it seemed impossible that it could be strong. He sat down on a stone which projected out of the water, and while he was there the teacher came along, and stopping on the bridge, began to talk with him. Alonzo and the teacher were on very good terms, and after talking together a few minutes at the brook, they both walked along together.

Their way was a cross-path through the woods, which led

Conversation. The books in the satchel.

by a shorter course than the main road, to the part of the town where they were both going.

" Alonzo," said the teacher, as they were stepping over a low place in the log fence where their path diverged from the road ; — " I am glad to see you carrying your hooks home."

" I like to study my lessons at home in the evenings," said Alonzo, with a feeling of secret satisfaction.

" Well, Alonzo, what should you say if I should tell you that I could guess exactly what books you have got in your satchel ?"

" I don't know," said Alonzo, — " perhaps you saw me put them in."

" No, I did not."

" Well, you can tell by the shape of the books ; you can see the shape and size of them by looking at the satchel."

" No," said the teacher, " I can see that you have got either your writing-book or your Atlas, but I can not tell which by the appearance of the satchel. I see also, that there is by the side of it, one middle-sized book besides ; but its size does not determine whether it is your Arithmetic or your Grammar or your Geography."

" Well, what do you think the books are ?"

" I think they are your writing-book, and your spelling-book."

There was in Alonzo's countenance an appearance of surprise and curiosity. He said that the teacher was right, and asked him how he knew.

" I know by your character."

" By my character !" said Alonzo. " What do you mean by that?"

" I will tell you ; but I think it will give you pain rather than pleasure. You are one of the best boys in my school, — you give me very little trouble, and are generally diligent B

Motives. An exposure. The teacher's queries.

in. your duties ; and obedient and faithful. Now, have you ever thought what your motives are for this ?"

" No, sir, I have never thought about it very particularly," replied Alonzo. "I wish to improve my time, and learn as much as I can, so as to be useful when I am a man."

Alonzo thought that that ought to be his motive, and so he fancied that it was. He did not mean to tell a falsehood. He did not say it because he wished to deceive his teacher, but because his heart had deceived him. It is so with us all.

" You think so, I have no doubt. But now I wish to ask you one question. What two studies do you think you are most perfect in ?"

Alonzo did not like to answer, though he knew that he prided himself much on his handsome writing, and on his being almost always at the head of his class in spelling. At length he said, with a modest air, that he thought he " took as much interest in his writing and in his spelling lessons as in any thing."

" Are there any studies that you are less advanced in than in these ?"

" Yes, sir."

" Well," said the teacher, " and now I have one other question. How happens it that the writing-book and the spelling-book, which represent the two studies in which you have made the greatest proficiency, and in which you, of course, least need any extra efforts, are the very ones which you are bringing home to work upon in the evenings ?"

Alonzo did not answer immediately. In fact, he had no answer at hand. He thought, however, that if he was inclined to study out of school hours, he had a right to take any books home that he pleased. But he did not say so.

" And I should like to ask you one more question," said

Alonzo's perplexity. His reflections.

the teacher. " In what study do you think you are most deficient ?"

"I suppose it is my Arithmetic," said Alonzo : recollecting how he disliked, and avoided as much as possible, every thing connected with calculation.

" And do you ever carry home your Arithmetic to study in the evening ?"

Alonzo shook his head. He knew that he did not.

" Well. Now you are well aware that there is no knowledge obtained at school more important to a man than a knowledge of figures. How does it happen, then, if your motive is to fit yourself for usefulness and happiness when a man, that the very study in which you are most deficient, is the very one in which you never make any voluntary effort ?"

Here was a little pause, during which Alonzo looked serious. He felt very unhappy. It seemed to him that his teacher was unkind. When he was bringing his books home to study his lesson for the next day on purpose to please the teacher, — to be blamed just because he had not happened to bring his arithmetic instead of his spelling-book, was very hard. Tears came to his eyes, but he strove to suppress them, and said nothing.

"I know, Alonzo," continued the teacher, "that these questions of mine will trouble you. But I have not asked them for the sake of troubling you, but for the purpose of letting you see into your heart and learn a lesson of its deceitfulness. I want you to think of this to-night when you are alone, and perhaps I will some day talk with you again."