Books: The Poorhouse Waif and His Divine Teacher

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Was it the fault of Elmer that such things should be? Not altogether. The
greater blame must be laid at the door of those whose duty it was to warn
and advise him of his danger and to see to it that he obeyed them while he
was young; for it is very plainly stated in the Bible that the child should
be trained in its youth (Prov. 22:6). Nevertheless, the evil-doer must have
his just deserts; for "whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap"
(Gal. 6:7).

Elmer had continued his stealing until among the stolen articles were suits
of men's clothing, sums of money, and other things too numerous to mention.
He had also been guilty of forging notes. But the crime of deceiving the
young girl seemed to his friends the most humiliating.

Although Edwin no longer lived in the community of his mother or Mr. Fitch,
for he was supporting himself, he had learned what a mother's place in his
life should be and the attitude that a son should hold toward her. He
therefore, regardless of her former shortcomings, went occasionally to see
her. In answer to those who questioned how he could respect or visit his
mother after all that she had caused him to suffer, he would say: "She is
still my mother, just as though she had always been good to me, and I shall
always regard her as a mother. During my childhood I held nothing against
her for all the things I suffered, and why should I now?" Hearing of
Elmer's trouble, Edwin hastened to his mother's home, and while listening
to her tale of woe he heard her say:

"I just can't understand what Elmer means by doing such outlandish things
now that he is grown up. If he were a boy, I wouldn't think so much about
it, but here he is a man and bringing home to us nothing but sorrow and
disgrace. He can scarcely get out of one trouble until he is in another,
and he even sets the other children up to do things that are bad. Now, how
is it that you, whom I never gave credit for knowing anything, have never
caused me any anxiety or trouble in any way? No matter where you are or how
hard you have to work, I can never find any one that has anything bad to
say about you. I can't see why there should be such a difference."

"Why, Mother," Edwin answered, "it is very plain. I can tell you all about
it. Do you remember the time when Elmer took the pebbles from my pocket in
the night time? That was his start. After that he often took things from
your dress-pockets and money-drawer, and it was easy for him to slip in
behind the counters at the stores to help himself, for you always took his
part and shielded him; and you never taught him that he must be true to his
wife. You told me I must never speak to you of these things, and I did not
before, for I knew that it would do no good; but the little seed that was
planted in his heart that night when he was allowed to keep the pebbles has
grown until it is what you see it now. Elmer is a thief and will have to
receive from the law the punishment that you ought to have given him long
ago."

"I don't see how taking a few little stones out of your pocket could make
him a thief or amount to this," his mother said as the truth began to dawn
upon her.

"Why, Mother," Edwin answered, "it is just as natural for that little deed
to grow and multiply as for a thistle-seed to grow and increase when it is
dropped in the ground. One healthy stalk will bear a great many blossoms,
and every blossom will have an abundant crop of seeds. The little
thistle-seed is very small and perfectly harmless if watched and destroyed
before it has time to grow, but let it take root in fertile soil and get a
start, and it will surely yield many more thistles and continue to increase
long after the plant itself is forgotten."

While Edwin was speaking, his mother seemed to realize something of the
meaning of his words. The time to undo many of the wrongs that she had done
the growing boys when they were under her care had gone; but had she known
it, there was still a chance to help poor Edwin, who, through observation,
had discovered some deep and mysterious truths.

He had found that there is nothing certain upon the earth except that
everything must have a beginning and an ending, and that old age and death
are unavoidable. The stories of ghosts and superstitious sayings had opened
up avenues for thought, and he reasoned that if everything must die, and if
there is a heaven and a hell, and if God knows all we do and say, there
must be some way for a person to know in which of these places he will live
after he is dead.

For a long time the thought had troubled him, but although he had asked
many people regarding the matter, no one had explained it to his
satisfaction. Taking note of his mother's friendly attitude toward him, he
ventured to ask if she could give him any information on the subject, but
her answer was: "We can not know these things until after we are dead. We
must wait and see."

As Edwin left his mother's home to return to the place where he had been
working, he was more perplexed than ever; but he had decided that since the
good place and the bad had been made for a purpose and since the good and
the bad must inhabit their own proper places, he would not cease trying to
solve the problem until he proved that it was an impossibility to do so.

Poor Edwin! Could some one have read to him from the Bible--but no! Had he
listened, he could not have understood; he had no way of knowing that it
was God's word to man.

"Blessed are they that do his commandments, that they may have right to the
tree of life, and may enter in through the gates into the city" (Rev.
22:14).

CHAPTER XI

SEARCHING FOR LIGHT

The inquiring spirit will not be controlled;
He would make certain all, and all behold.

--Sprague.

At the age of twenty-one Edwin had formed one bad habit. Having had nobody
to tell him that the use of tobacco was harmful to his body and seeing it
used as commonly as a food by nearly all, regardless of age or sex, he had
learned both to smoke and to chew. By the permission of the farmers for
whom he had worked, he had raised a few tobacco-plants for himself, and the
leaves of these plants, when carefully dried, were what he used as
smoking-tobacco, but the cigars and chewing-tobacco he purchased at the
store.

But although Edwin had never heard that tobacco was in any way unfit for
the use of man, something within him seemed to suggest that there were some
things about its use that were filthy and unclean. One thing that he
abhorred was the chewing of tobacco in the house, because he pitied the
women who were forced to look after and clean the spittoons. When in the
house in the evening or on Sunday he considered smoking his pipe or cigars
more appropriate, and he had supplied himself with special mouth-pieces for
his cigars and convenient cases in which to carry them in his pockets. He
did his chewing when at his work in the field. He also felt that it was
placing his employer's property in too much danger to smoke when about his
work in the barn, and this he always avoided. Thus, the same principle that
had governed his earlier years was still his ruling trait.

Although for so many months Edwin had been seeking carefully and often with
tears for some clue to the mystery connected with the hereafter, he had as
yet found no one who could inform him on the subject; for those whom he
considered the best people living were as uncertain concerning the future
reward as the most vile. But from information gleaned he felt that there
must be a place somewhere beyond the grave where the good and the bad would
live again. When reasoning about the matter, he would say, "Now, if I am on
the road to heaven, how am I to know if I get off that road and take a
branch that will land me in hell?"

The thought of his own good behavior and abhorrence of all that he
considered evil did not suggest to his mind that for this reason he might
be the more entitled to enter the better place, for all his actions had
been prompted by a sense of justice and his duty toward his fellow men.

Having become acquainted with a young married couple named Frank and Amanda
Kauffman, Edwin went often to their home to pour out his troubles and
perplexities. But although these people tried hard to help him, their
efforts often plunged him into greater doubts and confusion. Whenever he
went to them or to any one else with his question, it seemed that the
answer was still the same: "No one can know about these things. We must all
wait and see." Still he was not discouraged. Instead he was more than ever
determined to keep on trying until he did find out.

Had Edwin been able to reason about the drunkard, the thief, or the liar,
as not being fit for the good place, it might have been different, but to
him the evils with which they were bound were a matter of choice. He had
never heard the story of Adam and Eve, and so did not know that their first
sin had severed not only them but also the entire human race from God's
family (Rom. 5:19). Had he known that it is impossible for any one to know
God or to enter the better world without first realizing that he is already
condemned and on the road to destruction, and that the only way to be
transferred to the highway leading to heaven is to be forgiven and adopted
back into the family of God as a redeemed child, it would not have been so
hard for him to understand upon which road he was traveling.

It was springtime, and as the days grew warm and bright, the tiny
grass-blades in the meadowlands made their appearance. Then it was that the
farmer for whom Edwin was working realized that it was time to gather the
stones that were scattered here and there throughout the meadow into piles
that they might be hauled away before they became lost in the soft, velvety
carpet of green; for should they be left where they were, later on the
knives of the mowing-machine and the teeth of the hay-rake would be badly
damaged and perhaps broken. Edwin was told, therefore, that his work for a
time would be to gather all the stones, both large and small, into heaps in
systematic order so that they could be easily hauled away by the team in
the large farm-wagon.

As THe field was large and level, it was a pleasant place to work, and
Edwin, having plenty of time to think, confined his thoughts principally to
the things that were uppermost in his mind. He reasoned thus:

"Now, if a man must walk every step of the way through life in uncertainty
and doubt as to what the end will be, and has such a short time to stay in
this world how miserable THe remainder of my life will be! If only I could
do something whereby I could know surely that I would at the last have my
desire, I would be so glad! Still," he reasoned on, "there must be some way
to know these things, and I will not stop trying to find out just what it
is. It's altogether unreasonable to believe that we can not know until
after we die about these things. God surely has some way to let us
understand; for if he didn't what would there be to hinder every person on
earth from going to hell? Surely God wants some of the people to go to the
other place."

His belief that some were surely on their way to heaven was firm, and he
felt that those few must not be in doubt as to where they were going, and
that God must in some way let them know how to live in order to keep on the
right road, and also that their lives must be peaceful and happy. But he
felt that some great change would have to take place in one's life before
this assurance could come.

Thus, God again, when all men failed him, became Edwin's teacher, for these
thoughts were in accordance with the Bible, and in wisdom and love his
heavenly Father helped him to comprehend the very principles of a true
Christian life. The truths he thus learned were so deeply stamped upon his
mind with the divine seal that they could never be erased. Still within his
heart there was another question that had not been answered: "How can I get
this assurance within my own heart?" Nothing could ever bring satisfaction
until he knew without a doubt that he was going aright, and nothing but
facts would ever dispel his doubts.

"God," he reasoned, "is the only one who knows, and the only way for me to
understand is for God to let me know just what he thinks about me. God will
not deal with me according to what the people may think of me, or by what
they may say. Some say that I am all right now; but if I were all right, I
should be the first to know it, and I do not feel that I am fit now for
heaven if I should die."

The knowledge that he had always tried to do the best that he could and
that he had endeavored to treat every creature living as fairly as he knew
how was not enough to satisfy him, and he said: "There is something still
of which I have never heard or dreamed. If only I could find out what it is
or by what means I could get it, how glad I should be! Can it be that I
must die before I know what it is?"

"Shall not God search this out? for he knoweth the secrets of the heart"
(Psa. 44:21).

CHAPTER XII

A REVELATION ON ETERNITY

Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

--Longfellow.

While Edwin was still laboring among the stones in the field of grass, this
thought came suddenly to his mind:

"If I should be so unfortunate as to die before I receive the assurance
that I am going to heaven and I should happen to find myself in hell, how
long would I have to be there? And how hot would be that fire that I have
heard so much about from profane tongues? Would there be any ending or
wearing away of eternity? and would the suffering after a while be less
severe? or would it go right on just the same forever and ever?"

As his desire to know these things increased, he was willing to lay aside
his thoughts concerning how he was to get the assurance that he was going
to heaven, and as he passed from one heap of stones to another, he became
sorely troubled. He longed for a friend to whom he could go for help, but
no one was suggested to his mind. Even his friend Frank Kauffman, he was
sure, could not enlighten him; for to none of the questions he already
asked upon these subjects had he received satisfactory answers.

Then suddenly, as though he had passed into the great beyond, everything
about him appeared to be changed. He seemed to have died and passed into
hell, and the flames, as they rose in imagination about him, were
penetrating every fiber of his being, and he cried out in his distress. But
as though the vision had been only to teach him of the reality of that
place of torment, Edwin felt himself caught up, as it were, and he was
seemingly suspended in an endless space with the eternal realities of life
opened up for him to view. For miles and miles nothing but space appeared
to stretch before, above, and around him, with the glaring flames that he
had just left but a short distance behind him.

Then the scene was changed, and he saw before him a great and high mountain
of sand, and the thought of the impossibility of counting the grains was
suggested to his mind. Again the scene changed, and each grain in the
mountain seemed to be a year, and the grains as years began to form
themselves into one continuous straight line, so long that the distance
could not be measured by the human eye, for there was no end. Once more
there was a change. The line of years took the form of a great
measuring-rod, and strength was given Edwin to grasp the rod and to try to
measure the duration of hell-fire; and he tried to see if in eternity there
could be any possible way of forgetting the past. Twice with the immense
rod he measured into the sea of Forgetfulness, but before the third
measurement was taken, he saw from a backward glance that hell was no
farther away from him than it had been at the first. In great distress
Edwin dropped the rod, and the vision passed away.

When he realized that he was still in the field of grass and was on time's
side of eternity, he was very glad indeed. Through the vision he was
convinced of two things--that hell and its torments were certain, and that
eternity was without end--and he was filled with a new determination and
zeal to do everything in his power to obtain an assurance within himself
that he was really on the road to the better world.

How sad that Edwin could not have gone directly to Jesus as some did in
olden time and have heard him explain that to enter heaven one must be born
again.

"The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but
canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one that
is born of the Spirit." "Except a man be born again, he can not see the
kingdom of God." (John 3:8,3).

CHAPTER XIII

PUZZLED ABOUT PRAYER

Heaven asks no surplice round the heart that feels,
And all is holy where devotion kneels.

--Holmes.

Edwin's distress of mind and his confusion of thought were greatly
increased when, a few days after the vision in the field, there was another
strange occurrence. The stones had not all been gathered into piles, but
the work was progressing well, and when Edwin occasionally stopped in his
work to note the appearance of the large field, he was pleased with what he
had accomplished. The burden of his thought, however, was not the work nor
the neatness of the place. Neither was it the beautiful scenery of slightly
rolling country, the Christmas stories and legends connected with Blue
Mountain, nor the ghost-stories and horrors in the home of the witch. Even
the vision of eternity was a thing of the past.

"If only I knew! If only I could tell, before I die, on which of the roads
I am traveling to eternity!" was the constant cry of his troubled soul.
Once when these words had just escaped his lips, he suddenly heard a
strange and rumbling sound that seemed to come from the very heart of the
earth, and he felt the ground beneath his feet begin to shake. Unable to
understand what had happened, Edwin hastened to the house, but the people
there were as mystified as he himself, except that they said, "Surely it
must have been an earthquake!" and some suggested that the end of the world
might be near. With this bit of knowledge, Edwin returned to his work, but
oh, how heavy was his heart!

"Why is it so hard," he cried, "to discover the secret that is causing me
all this worry and trouble?" But the words had no sooner escaped his lips
than he added, "There is and there must be some way to find out, and I'll
keep on trying until I know that it is of no use to try."

Across the fields on a pretty knoll stood the humble little dwelling of
Frank Kauffman and his wife, and as Edwin glanced occasionally in that
direction, he wondered if his friend would be able to enlighten him about
the earthquake, and he planned to visit him that very evening after supper.

Frank's home, although small, was always cozy and inviting; for Amanda,
long before Frank married her, had been taught by her energetic, systematic
mother, Mrs. Miller, the principles of good housekeeping. And Frank,
although not a Christian, had been reared by a pious and devoted mother,
who in all her ways endeavored to set before her children an example that
she would not be ashamed to have them follow, and she was a woman who knew
the value of prayer. For this reason Frank could easily talk on a few of
the principles of religion; but when it came to the actual experiences, he
was at a loss to know what to say.

But although Frank's mother was so noble and true, his father's goodness
was only from a moral standpoint, and regardless of the evil effect that
his smoking might have upon his three growing boys, he very much enjoyed
his pipe. As a result of the father's indulgence, Frank and his two
brothers, when scattered out in homes of their own, said, "Father smoked
and seems none the worse for it, and I guess a little tobacco will not hurt
us."

But the fact that some of her family smoked at all never ceased to be a
great worry to Mrs. Kauffman, and whenever there was an opportunity she
reminded them of their fault. And as Frank's home was but a short distance
from his mother's, Edwin's visits were noticed by the anxious woman, and
when she found that he too was a tobacco-user, she was much worried about
the influence he might have over her son.

After she had expressed her fears concerning Edwin, one day to Frank, her
son answered, "Mother, you are doing Edwin a great injustice; for instead
of his being an evil associate, he is not only noble and good, but a
pattern of good works, for even in the use of tobacco he is moderate and
neat. More than this," Frank continued, "Edwin is very much interested in
religion, and many times I am unable to answer his questions because they
are so deep."

Could Mrs. Kauffman have known Edwin at this time, she would certainly have
been of a different opinion, and she might have helped him through some of
his difficulties; but she knew nothing of the perplexities of his mind, and
Edwin did not know of her anxieties concerning his influence over her son.

When Edwin saw the evening shades beginning to gather, he was glad, and as
soon as his supper and evening duties were over, he made his way across
meadow and fields to the home of his friend, and he did not forget to carry
with him a generous supply of dried tobacco-leaves, which he had tied up in
a large red handkerchief. The leaves were for his friend and him to smoke
while they talked.

As he passed the place in the field where he had felt the shock of the
earthquake, he remembered, that he had not told Frank about the vision of
eternity and hell that was still fresh in his memory, and then so rapidly
were the things suggested to his mind that he would like to say, that he
began to wonder if he would be able to unburden his heart in so short a
time.

When he approached the house, he saw his friend Frank seated upon the
porch. Frank was resting after a hard day's work in the field, but he gave
Edwin a hearty welcome and bade him be seated beside him. Edwin took the
chair, and the two were soon loading their pipes from the dried
tobacco-leaves contained in the red handkerchief. Then as the circles of
blue smoke began to arise in the air, Frank asked:

"Did you feel or hear over at your place anything of the earthquake?"

"Yes, and I should like to know more about it," Edwin answered.

"It shook the windows and doors in our house so hard that my wife couldn't
imagine for a time what was happening," Frank continued, "and my horse in
the field came very near getting away from me."

"It seemed to me," Edwin remarked, "that the whole field where I was
working was going to pieces and that I was going right down into eternity."

Then, as they smoked, Edwin told his friend all about his vision and
explained how dreadful he felt it would be to land in such an awful place
when he came to leave this world.

"I guess you felt like saying a prayer about the time you found yourself in
hell, didn't you?" Frank asked as Edwin finished relating the incident.

The awful picture of the future world that had been painted in words had
caused Frank to shudder, for he was not prepared to die. It might have been
Frank's manner and it might have been the tone in which the word "prayer"
was spoken that caused Edwin to exclaim:

"Prayer! what is prayer?"

"Prayer," Frank replied, "is man's way of talking with God. When anybody
tells God what he wants, he prays; and God has promised to hear his words
and to help him out of his troubles. But the person who prays must speak
from his heart and not try to say a lot of words that he has learned from
some one else or from a book. A prayer from the heart is the only kind that
God will hear."

"What do you mean by talking with God?" Edwin asked in a still more
mystified tone, for he had never thought of man while still on the earth or
in fact anywhere else, as speaking with God in heaven.

After Frank had explained that such a thing was possible, Edwin exclaimed:

"Who can make such a prayer? Do you know of any one who can?"

The twilight shades had all disappeared from the sky above, and it was
already dark where Frank and Edwin were sitting, but inside the cozy
living-room Amanda, seated beside a table, upon which a kerosene-lamp was
burning, was quietly knitting. Pointing in her direction, Frank said,
confidently:

"There's one who can pray. And she prays from the heart."

Although Edwin had been in the home a number of times and had noticed
Frank's wife, he had never talked with her, and as he gazed through the
open window, he wondered what kind of person she could be. Turning suddenly
to his friend, he said:

"By what means does a person become able to pray such a prayer?"

"By being converted," Frank answered.

"Converted!" Edwin exclaimed with even more wonder shining in his large
brown eyes, for he seemed to realize instantly that another great and
important subject had been introduced.

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