African Americans -- Education -- Juvenile fiction; Sunday school literature
“Our Sunday-school has been so pleasant lately,” she continued, “I only
wish you could be here. Mr. Allen gave us some beautiful illuminated
texts last Sunday. I had been thinking about you all the afternoon,
and had been wishing you could have heard Mr. Allen’s talk, and I am
afraid I was feeling a little wrong and disappointed that you could not
be with us, when Mr. Allen laid upon my desk my little text. I did not
wish any more, Tom; I just believed what it said, and kept still. Now
I am going to send it to you, and if you have--as I have no doubt you
often do, good as you are--any longings for home that grow too strong,
then here is my text;” and Tom read in red and gold letters on a bit of
card which fell from the letter:
“Trust in the Lord, and wait patiently for him.”
Tom’s eyes were blinded for several minutes, so that he could scarcely
see to read Miss Mason’s kind note. It told him just what he wanted
most to know--all the school news; how Martha was getting on, what new
songs they were learning, and how his own class was prospering. “And
knowing that you had your books with you,” she added, “and thinking you
might have time for study, I have marked on a slip of paper all that
your class has learned, and a few directions which will help you to
study for yourself.
“And now,” she concluded, “I do not know that you need counsel, but let
me just remind you that you are a soldier of Jesus Christ, and that it
is a part of a soldier’s duty to see that his comrades are saved from
danger; so, my dear boy, try and bring back to God some who are still
outside the fold. We all have work to do for Jesus, you know.”
Tom’s heart rested. He did not see how he could be sorrowful with these
two bits of cheer coming to him when he felt so weary and heartsick.
He was not so any more--that night, at any rate--and the letters were
shown to many admiring eyes. Jimmy opened his very wide.
“Had a letter from Miss Mason?” exclaimed he. “My sakes! let’s read;”
but Tom could not do that.
“I’d rather not, Jimmy,” said he, looking at Jimmy’s fingers and
thinking of the delicate paper, “but I’ll tell you all she said.”
He told so much about school and the work she had sent him that Jimmy’s
slumbering ambition was aroused.
“I declare, Tom,” said he, “I haven’t studied a bit since I came; have
you?”
“Yes,” replied Tom, “a good deal.”
“Are you up with your class?”
“Yes,” returned Tom.
“Oh dear! and I promised to study with you. I’ll begin this very night.”
And he did, and added thereby for a short time much to Tom’s happiness.
For a while he gave his evenings pretty steadily, but at noon he was
inexorable.
“No, sir,” he said--“noon is for rest.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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