Church and Sunday school influence

Front matter

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.

AUTHOR OF

"The Life of a Book Agent," "Ravenia, or The Outcast Redeemed," "Happy at Last, or A Sequel to the Life of a Book Agent,' 1 '' "National Reform, or Liquor and its Consequences," "The Hard Times: The Cause and the Remedy," etc, , etc.

Preface

The favor and kindness with which the former works by the authoress have been received by a generous public have induced her again to solicit their indulgence. In the preparation of this work she has been actuated by an earnest desire to benefit the human family. She has no personal objects to accomplish, but is moved to the publication of this work solely as a means in the hope of accomplishing some good to her fellowcreatures. In the hope that this little volume may be received and judged by a generous public with the same kindness and favor awarded to her other works, it is respectfully submitted by

THE AUTHOR.

Contents

I. The Lord's Supper— Jesus a Jew ... 9

II. Tardy Repentance 19

III. Out of the Depths . 36

II. Tardy Repentance

Some years since, there lived in the city of Philadelphia a very worthy gentleman by the the name of Grire. He was actively engaged in business, and was generally reputed to be quite wealthy, though there were those among his most intimate acquaintances who shook their heads ominously and whispered that his supposed capital was fictitious, and that when his business came — as it must sooner or later — to be closed up by others than himself, it would be found that the expenses of living had absorbed all his profits, and that he was really worth nothing at all. He was, nevertheless, a man of the strictest integrity and uprightness, whose moral and social virtues commanded the respect of all who knew him. His benevolence was proverbial, while the purity of his humble Christian character was conspicuous even in that city of staid mortals — the City of Brotherly Love.

In his domestic relations this worthy man appeared to be peculiarly fortunate. In all that goes to make up the truly Christian character, in intelligence, wit, and real worth, his wife was the counterpart of himself ; while his two daughters — Grace and Weinona (ordinarily called Winnie) — were lovely almost beyond comparison, and were supposed to be endowed with all the good qualities of their excellent parents. And, so far as Grace was concerned, the supposition was fully realized "by the facts. Intelligent, refined, and possessed of an innate purity and nobleness of soul which would have scorned anything like deceit, or a dishonorable action ; with a generous spirit which, conscious of no wrong within itself, suspected no wrong in others, she fully merited all the encomiums which she received from all her friends.

With her sister, however, the case was somewhat different. Even as is the case in some of the inferior animals, those most beautiful and attractive to the eye are possessed of the fiercest, most untamable and treacherous natures ; so it was with Winnie. Though the equal, or, as considered by many, the superior of her sister in the matter of mere personal beauty, never were two characters more completely contrasted. While Grace was the very personification of truth, openness and generosity, Winnie was selfish, scheming and deceitful to a degree. Stopping at nothing to accomplish her designs, and making everything subservient to the gratification of her own selfish aims and desires, she still had sufficient artfulness to conceal, even from her most intimate friends, these startling deformities of character — blemishes which were destined to work

TARDY REPENTANCE.

a fearful amount of misery, not only to herself, but to others, as will appear in the course of this sketch.

In the circle of acquaintance of the two sisters — so much alike in appearance, and yet really so diverse — were two brothers, named respectively Philip and George Sinclair. They were the sons of a gentleman who, after having conferred upon each a liberal education — the elder being designed for the practice of medicine, and the younger, of the law— had suddenly deceased, leaving them, his only heirs, in possession of an ample fortune — the profits of his life-long pursuit of an honorable and upright business. But, though placed by his providence beyond the necessity of labor, the young men were not content to be mere drones in the human hive ; and, prompted by filial respect, as well as their own inclinations, each had pursued with assiduity the course marked out for him by his revered parent. And, at the time of our first acquaintance with them, each had commenced the practice of his profession under the most flattering auspices.

Philip and George Sinclair had first met the two sisters at the house of a mutual friend, and, like almost every one who was brought in contact with them, they were at once attracted by their beauty, grace and intelligence ; and further acquaintance, which the young men were not slow to prosecute, but confirmed their enchantment, and in a short time they became, not mere acquaintances, but intimate friends. Nay, more ; each of the brothers, though carefully concealing his feelings from the other, found sentiments of a warmer nature than friendship growing up in his heart, and soon the young doctor found himself deeply in love with the fair Grace, while George bestowed the affections of his heart upon her beautiful but unworthy sister ; and each resolved to spare no pains to win the object of his adoration. Nothing was said between them on the subject ; for, though they loved each other with all the fervor of fraternal affection, each felt a degree of reserve upon a subject of so much delicacy while the issue of their respective suits still remained in doubt.

But " the course of true love never did run smooth ; " and though each of the brothers strove earnestly and assiduously to win the favor of his chosen mistress, each seemed doomed to disappointment, but for causes altogether different.

While Grace really loved the young physician, who honored both himself and her in the bestowal of his attentions and his love, she nevertheless refrained from any manifestations of that feeling, being unwilling to commit herself until she knew whether her parents would approve of his suit or not. She therefore contented herself with simply manifesting her kindly appreciation of his attentions, and still left matters in such a situation that she could withdraw at any time, if deemed best.

TARDY REPENTANCE.

On the other hand, Winnie absolutely refused poor George's proposition, and declined to receive his attentions entirely. The reason was, that she had conceived a violent passion for his brother ; and though well aware of the state of her sister's feeling toward him, she had carefully concealed her own, and was at that moment, with characteristic treachery, plotting how she might supplant her sister, or, in other words, alienate the love which she knew existed between them, and win Philip to herself. Such treachery may seem incredible between two sisters reared as Grace and "Winnie had been, and who were all in all to each other, and on the part of the former it would have been simply impossible. But Winnie's selfishness was sufficient to over- ride every consideration of sisterly affection, and though she was well aware that in the course she had decided upon, the effect of her artifice and treachery would be to destroy her sister's happiness, perhaps forever, still she went on her way without faltering or hesitation.

Her first step was to endeavor to convince Philip that Grace was really trifling with him. She well understood the motive by which her sister was prompted in her treatment of the young doctor's advances ; but, ignoring the motive entirely, she resolved to turn the fact to her own account, and make it subserve her own evil purposes.

When she had peremptorily, and without assigning any reason, rejected the suit of George- Sinclair, she insidiously dropped a remark which, apparently without design, though really as a part of her well-laid scheme, led him to suppose that her sister was in some way connected with his own rejection, and in the earnestness of his pursuit he at once set to work with Grace to ascertain, and if possible remove, the supposed obstruction to the acomplishment of his wishes. This is what the artful girl had calculated upon ; and no sooner had George commenced visiting her sister for the purpose (of which she was well aware) before mentioned, than she sought an early opportunity to communicate with his brother. Fortune favored her in her unholy purpose, and it was not long till an occasion presented itself.

One evening, when George and Grace were in the parlor, the door-bell rang, and Dr. Sinclair was announced. Winnie met him in the hall, and before he had asked for any one, said, playfully :

" Oh ! doctor ; you are too late. George is before you this evening, and is at this moment with Grace in the parlor."

" What ! " exclaimed he ; " do you mean to tell me that my brother George visits Miss Grace, and that she receives him privately ? "

" Why, yes," replied the wily girl, with wellconcealed joy, for she saw that his jealous anger was being aroused ; " is there anything strange in. that?"

TARDY REPENTANCE.

"What do you mean ? " he demanded, in husky tones ; for he fancied that in this circumstance he saw the reason of Grace's coldness toward himself, and with it the death-blow to all his hopes.

"Nothing at all," she replied coolly, "only that your brother is in the habit of visiting my sister. I supposed, of course, you knew it, or I should not have mentioned it, and now only regret having done so. Believe, me, doctor, I had no thought of my little jest producing so much emotion. Pardon my thoughtlessness; will you not?" she continued with apparent unconcern.

" Your thoughtlessness, as you term it," replied he, with emotion, "has, in this instance, been of inestimable service to me. I now fully understand what I never did before. I only ask that you will allow me to see, with my own eyes, the proof of the treachery you have mentioned."

" Pardon me, doctor," said she ; but I am not aware that I have spoken of any treachery. I certainly did not intend to do so. I only spoke of George's visits here because I supposed you were all the time aware of the intimacy between them "

" Well, call it what you will, only let me see them," he replied, almost impatiently.

" They are in the parlor ; you know where that is. But, doctor, I am sorry I spoke as I did, and beg of you not to make any trouble on account of my thoughtlessness ; " and so saying she glided into the sitting-room, there to exult over the probable success of the implied falsehood she had just told; for she was convinced from his manner that the result would be a total rupture between the doctor and her sister. And she was not disappointed. She knew too well the impulsive disposition of him with whose feelings she had just been playing. Hastening to the parlor, he threw open the door without knocking, and just opposite him were Grace and his brother, seated side-by-side upon a sofa, their hands clasped, and evidently very much interested in whatever had been the subject of conversation before his abrupt interruption. The truth was, they had just been speaking of George's rejection by Winnie, and Grace was assuring him of her sympathy, and trying to comfort him with hopes of success in the future. But, to his jaundiced eyes, the position they occupied was only that of affianced lovers ; and in an instant his jealous rage burst forth. Advancing impetuously to the center of the room, he exclaimed, angrily :

" So, this is the reason you reject my suit ; instead of the fear of offending your parents, it is the fear of displeasing a more favored lover which defeats me. I thank you for your truthfulness, and am especially thankful that I discovered your treachery before it was too late."

Grace's pride, in turn, was roused by the laaughty and imperious tone of this address ; for she possessed a spirit as noble and exalted as his own, and this unjust accusation aroused it in all its force. Rising to her feet, she replied, indignantly :

"By what right, sir, you presume to address such language to me, I am unable to guess. Do you think that because I have tolerated your visits it gives you a right to come here and insult me ? I desire you to leave this room until you can control yourself sufficiently to treat a lady as a gentleman should."

" Tolerated my visits ! " he replied, fiercely. " Yes, that is the word, and I was fool enough to believe you when you said they alforded you pleasure."

" Will you go, sir ? " she asked, with freezing hauteur. "In the mood you are now in, your presence is annoying to me."

Convinced, by her manner, that his suspicions were correct, he turned, without a word, and left the house.

George would have followed him and explained the true position of affairs, but Grace would not permit it. Her angry feelings had been aroused by the incident, and she would not allow anything that looked like cringing or begging on. her part. So he went his way in blind rage, and the breach between them was complete.

For a long time she and George talked over the strange affair ; and, when he finally left her and returned to his home, he was surprised to find that his brother had not been there. Nor did he come during the entire night or the next day.

The next day George received a letter from him y post-marked New York, and conveying the startling intelligence that he had that day sailed, in a packet-ship, bound for the East Indies. The letter was written on ship-board, but contained no intimation of the name of the vessel or of the port to which she was bound. And thus, for the present, all trace of him was lost.

George and Grace both understood too well the cause of Philip Sinclair's sudden departure ; and many and bitter were the false self-accusations in which they indulged ; for, though fully conscious that no wrong had been intended or done by either of them, they were still aware that he supposed otherwise, and to them alone he ascribed his sudden exile. But so far were they from suspecting Winnie of any agency in the matter, that they, and especially Grace, conversed freely with her upon the subject, and to her repeated the selfblame they had so often expressed to each other.

It might be supposed by the reader that she r knowing the perfidious part she had played in the affair, would have been so conscience-smitten at the effects of her treachery as to have confessed all ; but not so. She had set out to separate two loving hearts, for the purpose of accomplishing her own selfish ends, and, to a certain extent, she had succeeded. But her exultation was short-lived. In the moment of her triumph she found that she had over-reached herself ; and when she found that, in addition to detaching him from her

TARDY REPENTANCE.

sister, she had driven him far beyond her own reach, her joy was turned into vindictive anger; and this was now the predominating sentiment of her heart. And this was one motive which induced her to keep silent.

It must be confessed, however, that she felt some slight twinges of conscience when, as weeks passed away and grew into months, and even years, and still no tidings from the wanderer, she saw her sister's cheek lose its bloom and her eyes grow lusterless, while her languid step and listless movements betrayed too plainly the effect of the hidden grief which was gnawing at her vitals. But still her conscientious convictions and her moral courage were not sufficient to induce her to do right by confessing the great wrong she had done. Thus it ever is with frail humanity. Having once embarked in a career of wrong, we are driven onward, by the force of evil, to commit other wrongs, and prevented from confessing and thereby righting the wrong already done. And so one crime produces another, until the whole nature is buried beneath a load of guilt too heavy to be removed by any agency short of the power of heavenly grace.

About a year after Dr. Sinclair's departure, the father of our two heroines sickened and died ; and then an examination of his pecuniary affairs showed that those who had predicted that nothing would be left for his family were correct in their suppositions. The wife and mother soon followed the husband and father ; and thus these two girls, so tenderly reared, were left without protector or guide, and without means, to battle alone with the stern realities of life.

At this time George Sinclair, who seems to have truly loved the false-hearted Winnie, and never to have suspected the existence of the deceit and treachery which formed so large a part of her character, renewed the offer of his hand and heart. And she, despairing of ever securing the fruits of her artifice, appalled at the prospect of earning her livelihood by the somewhat precarious returns of a teacher's labor — the only avocation for which she was fitted — and knowing that he could support her in luxury and ease, decided to accept the offer ; and so, though fully realizing that she did not love him, she laid her hand in his and promised to be to him a true and faithful wife; and to her credit be it recorded that, for the few years they lived together, this promise was sacredly kept.

Soon afterward they were married, and Grace went to live with them. Winnie would gladly have avoided this arrangement had it been possible ; for her melancholy demeanor and pale features were to her a standing reminder and reproach for the crime she had committed against her. But Grace was alone in the wide, wide world, and no other provision could be made for her. To leave her alone would not do, and so she became a member of Mr. Sinclair's family.

TARDY REPENTANCE.

But Winnie's married life was destined to be a brief one. Her mother had possessed but a feeble constitution, and from her Winnie had inherited the seeds of the fell disease, consumption. She had been married barely three years when it became apparent that the destroyer had fastened upon her lungs, and that the web of her life must soon be wound to a close. She might live, her physician said, some months, perhaps a year ; but they could assure her nothing save that sooner or later the disease must prove fatal. And with the certainty of the near approach of death came the most fearful remorse for her crime against her sister ; but still shame and cowardice— the cowardice which prevents one from doing right for fear of the gibes and sneers of the world — sealed her lips ; and so she smothered the painful secret in her breast, and, though suffering the keenest anguish, refused to speak.

During all this time nothing had been heard from the wanderer in a strange land. But one evening George came home with his face radiant with joy.

" What is the matter, that you look so pleased ? " asked Grace, as soon as he entered the room, rising from the low ottoman upon which she was seated, by the side of the invalid's couch.

" I have at last heard from Philip," replied he ; " I received a letter from him to-day."

" Where is he ? " asked both the ladies in a breath.

" At Singapore, in British East India, at present ; but has some idea of returning home if he gets a satisfactory answer. He wants to know if some young lady of his acquaintance is still living and unmaried, and intimates that the answer to this will have some influence upon his determination. But, Winnie — Grace — what is the matter with you both ? " he asked, abruptly ; for Winnie had half raised herself in bed, while Grace, with her usually pallid complexion "blushing rosy red," was flying from the room. She stopped not to respond, but his wife answered, earnestly.

" Oh ! George ; send for him to come at once, and pray that my life may be spared till his arrival. I cannot die till I have seen him, and told him all."

" All of what ? " asked her husband, in utter amazement at the intense emotion she displayed.

"I cannot tell you now," she murmured; "but before I die you shall know all. Only write to him to come."

"I certainly will," said he; "but a long time must elapse ere he can arrive."

" Yes, but I shall not die till he comes."

"Well, say no more now, my dear," said the husband, kindly ; "your wishes shall be complied with."

The next day a letter was dispatched to the fugitive, urging his immediate return to the land of his nativity, and then began a long and weary

TARDY REPENTANCE.

season of waiting and watching. But, though. Winnie gradually failed, though day by day her form grew more and more emaciated and her voice more and more feeble, though her physicians wisely shook their heads and predicted that she could live but a few weeks at furthest, she still expressed the utmost faith that she should live till his return. And certainly the extreme tenacity with which she clung to life seemed to fully justify her faith.

The months rolled away, and at last came a telegram from Philip Sinclair, saying that he had landed in New York, and would reach Philadelphia the next morning at 'nine o'clock. When this was communicated to the invalid, she remarked, in a voice scarcely above a whisper, while a gleam of earnest, sincere gratification shot athwart her wan features : " Said I not that I should survive till he came ? "

The next morning she was unusually feeble, and, at her request, recourse was had to stimulants to buoy up her sinking vitality, while her agitation, lest she should die before his arrival, was extreme.

" You must not let me die before nine o'clock," she repeatedly said to her weeping husband and sister, who were her only attendants.

As the hands of the clock pointed the hour of nine, a hackney coach stopped before the door, and a gentleman of foreign appearance leaped

out, ascended the steps and rang the bell. In a moment the returned wanderer was warmly greeted by his brother, and the next he was ushered into the sick room.

" Come close to me, Philip Sinclair," said the dying woman, in tones of unnatural strength ; 44 I said I would live till you came, and I have."

A pressure of her thin hand by the returned brother was the only reply.

" Where is Grace? "

" Here I am, dear sister," said the weeping girl.

" Come close to me ; my sight is failing, and I cannot see you. And you, my husband, support me in your arms."

And then, placing Grace's hand in that of her lover, she told the sad story of her crime, not sparing or extenuating herself in the least ; told how she had repented of her sin, and how her anxiety to repair the wrong she had done had kept her alive till the present moment. Her hearers listened in silent amazement, and when the melancholy story was completed, and she implored their forgiveness, asseverating that she could not die without it, they hastened to accord it freely and fully.

" Say it again," cried she ; 44 it is sweetest music to my ears."

44 We do," replied they in a breath, " freely forgive you, even as we hope to be forgiven at the last day."

44 Thank God ! " she cried in ecstatic tones ; 44 1 am forgiven, and can now die in peace. His forgiveness, I know, the Father will not withhold. I can now meet His face without fear ; " and the next moment her spirit took its flight to try the dread realities of eternity — dread only to those whose names are not written in the Lamb's Book of Life.

u It is over," said Philip, solemnly. " Let us pray." And kneeling, with Grace's hand still clasped in his, he poured forth an eloquent invocation to the God of heaven in behalf of the departed, and earnestly implored Him not to remember against her her great wrong.

Winnie was buried in one of the loveliest nooks of the cemetery at Philadelphia, and, a few days after the funeral, there was a quiet wedding, and the two faithful hearts, so Jong sundered by falsehood and treachery, were united in bonds indissoluble save by the hand of Death. Let us hope that He who is all love, and who "willeth not that any should perish," will judge mercifully the erring one by whose great wrong that long and paidful separation had been effected, even though her repentance came at the eleventh hour.

Reader, this is a true story, only the names are changed, and the locality is changed. The author was a witness at the dying bed of Winnie.

III. Out Of The Depths

" Say, boy, where is Green Street — do you know? I hain't been in this city long enough to learn the streets yet. I know 'em all in Louisville ; but here, things is kind o' strange yet."

These words were addressed to a bright, neatly-dressed boy of twelve or thereabouts, on one of the streets of Cincinnati, by a boy some three or four years older. The latter was clad in garments whose ragged, unkept appearance, in connection with the swaggering air of the wearer, sufficiently indicated him as one of the youthful loafers — young in years, but old in crime and misery — who infest, in such alarming numbers, the streets of all our large cities.

"Yes, sir," replied the lad, civilly — his tones and manner forming a strange contrast to those of his interrogator. " I am going to Green Street, and shall be pleased to show you the way."

" Well, now, that's good," said the boy, walking along beside the other; "what's yername?"

" Alfred Murray, sir."

"Mine's Tom Pendleton. But what makes you say ' sir ' to me all the time ? " asked the boy.

OUT OF THE DEPTHS.

" Because my parents and teachers have told me it was right to say 1 sir,' or £ madam,' to any person older than myself," said Alfred ; " and you are certainly older than I am," he added, hesitatingly.

" Of course I am, but then, I ain't no ' sir,' " said the boy, rudely; "I am just Tom. But be you goin' to see the dog-fight ? "

" To see the dog-fight ! " said Alfred, slowly and wonderingly ; " what do you mean ? "

"Why, don't you know?" said Tom. "They say there's goin' to be a grand dog-fight up somewhere on Green Street. They say Jim Bolster's big bull-dog is matched agin some dog from St. Louis, for five hundred dollars a side, and the fight is to come off to-day. I don't know nothin' about t'other dog, but I'll just bet half-a-dollar — all the money I've got — that Jim Bolster's bull '11 chaw him up. Now, see here, Alf., I kind o' like you. Come and go along with me. There'll be lots o' fun there — there always is. Four or five fights, mebbe ; and mebbe," said he, coming close up to Alfred, and speaking in a confidential tone, " we'll get a drink or two, or a chance to gudgeon some old fellow out of three or four dollars ; you understand ? Come, I'll go snucks with you ; what say ? "

" What ! " said Alfred, in surprise ; " do you go to such places ? and on the Lord's day, too ? " " Why, yes," said the boy, a little ashamed of the reproof conveyed by Alfred's question ; " don't you ? "

" No ; I never was at such a place in my life," said Alfred, " and I wish you would not go either. Come with me ; I am going to Sunday-school up on Green Street, and I wish you would go with me. I am sure it will do you more good than to go and see the fight."

"Sunday-school!" What do they do there?" asked the boy.

Alfred looked at him in amazement.

"Have you never been at Sunday-school?" he asked.

" No, never."

" Where do you live ? "

" Oh ! nowhere in particular," said Tom, indifferently. " I used to stay in Louisville, but finally made up my mind to come here, and, as I had no money to pay my fare, I just slipped onto a boat that stopped there in the night, and stole my ride up here. That was about two weeks ago; sence then I've just been staying wherever I could get a chance. I slept in an empty freight-car sometimes, and sometimes in a cellar, and so on. Yesterday an old woman hired me to split some wood for her, and gave me my supper, lodgin' and breakfast, and half-a-dollar in silver. But it's a pooty hard way to live, I tell you."