African Americans -- Education -- Juvenile fiction; Sunday school literature
It was no pleasure to him, but he stayed half an hour, and then, seeing
he could go without giving offence to any one, he gladly gathered up
his books and went off up-stairs. A candle was a luxury not to be
indulged in, but as Tom ascended the stairs he saw that the moonlight
was pouring in through the one window, so that the room was quite
light. He put his books away, and seating himself on the floor under
the window, which was very low, he leaned his head on his arm upon the
sill and began to think.
It was a long, sober thought. With quick understanding he saw very
soon what a battle the summer would be to him, and how hard it would
be for him to accomplish his aims. He was resolved upon one thing:
study he must and would, if every leisure minute of the noontide hour
was given up to it. Then, again, he must do some work for Jesus. The
summer must not yet pass without some deed accomplished whereby his
Master should be glorified. He realized that to this end he must make
himself familiar with the hands about the place--not only with those
who came from Huntsville, but also with the old family servants.
The dangers, the temptations accompanying such a course, if they
occurred to him at all, did not present themselves in their dangerous
form--the temptation that while leading others he might himself be led
away--that his faith might fail or his courage droop. The whole armor
of God was the only thing which could keep him from all the ills and
troubles thus presented. He did not know how much trial was before him,
but he _did_ know that he needed a stronger arm than his own to lead
him, and he looked above for strength and shelter.
The trial came first in a most unexpected direction. Jimmy, in all
good humor, reported that Tom “had got religion,” and to those to whom
he told it it was a very bad recommendation, and they held themselves
aloof; and not only that, but they would amuse themselves with sundry
jokes at his expense. Tom was astonished and wounded. He could not
imagine where they could have heard it, and it prevented, for a time,
the advancement he wished to make in their regard. He tried his best.
By every effort in his power he endeavored to gain friends among this
new company, and in a few instances he succeeded immediately; in
others not so well; and often it was impossible to have a talk with
those whose friendship he wished most to gain, on account of their
leisure-time being so much occupied with dances in the great barn.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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