The battle of life : $b or, What is a ChristianA. L. O. E.
Religion
The battle of life : $b or, What is a Christian
A. L. O. E.
Children's stories, English; Christian life -- Juvenile fiction; Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction
"It's not that, wife, it's not that," replied Michael, removing his
hand. "It was those words—'twas the bidding us do this 'in remembrance
of Me.' I couldn't abide the thought of having so long neglected the
dear Saviour's dying wish, let alone it's being the King's command. You
see," continued Michael, addressing himself to his grandson, "I have
known what it was to receive a dying request, and to treasure it up,
and keep it, as if 'twere a bit of my life. Your Granny knows the story
well, but, maybe, you han't heard so much about it."
Then, after pushing back his chair from the table, and again passing
his hand across his eyes, Michael Garth began his simple tale.
"I had as good and kind a mother as ever lived, and, I take it, never
son loved mother more than I did. When I was a lad, not much older than
you be, I sickened with the fever which was a-spreading all through the
village. My mother she watched me day and night, and would scarce stir
from my bedside till the doctor he said as how the worst was over.
"But the worst was not over," continued Michael with feeling, "for she
had caught the fever from me, she had, and on the day when I first
rose from my bed, my mother lay a-dying upon hers! I was just able to
crawl to her side, to get her blessing, and to hear her last words. I
half wished in my grief that the fever had taken us both away, so there
would have been no sore parting for either. My mother drew from under
her pillow my father's silver watch, which she had kept ever since she
had lost him. She was so weak she scarcely could hold it, and her voice
was so faint that I had to bend down close to catch her last words,
'Keep it for my sake;' they was the last words as ever she spoke. I
could not answer, a lump was in my throat, but I vowed in my heart that
I'd never part with that watch to my dying day!"
"And you never did!" exclaimed Martha. "So that there old watch is
locked up safe in yon box at this moment."
"I treasured that watch, I wore it by day, I put it under my bolster
by night, often and often did it bring my mother to my mind, it seemed
like a bit of herself. If I was a-tempted to go wrong, the very sound
of its ticking when I wound it up at bedtime seemed like a warning
voice from her grave. Years passed on, and I married, and a family
came—bless 'em—and after that great troubles. You mind that hard
winter, wife, when I was ten weeks out of work, and we scarcely knew
where to turn to get a crust to keep soul and body together!"
"I can never forget it," said Martha; "we lay down hungry, and we got
up hungry, and were well-nigh driven to part with the bed beneath us
for rent."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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