CHAPTER VIII.

SETTING TO WORK.

WHEN Walter and Arthur were returning together next morning from their early bath, Walter referred to the conversation of the previous evening.

"Have you thought at all about it, Arthur?" he asked.

"On and off I have thought about that sort of thing for a good while," said Arthur, reddening; "but I do not quite see what you want me to do now."

"That I am going to explain to you all after breakfast; but there is one thing that comes first by rights, and that is to remember the opening words of our text."

"'Ye are not your own,'" assented Arthur.

"Yes; not our own at all. Servants to do the will of another. Are you His or your own, dear Arthur?"

"I should like to be His, but I don't know yet," answered the boy in a low tone.

"'Ask, and ye shall receive,'" said Walter earnestly; and no more was said till they reached the farm.

When the children assembled at breakfast, to their surprise they found a text, nicely painted, pinned by its four corners to their dining room wall. They could all see it, for it was large; they could all read it, for it was plain: "Ye are not your own. For ye are bought with a price: therefore glorify God in your body, and in your spirit, which are God's."

"Who did it?" said Ada.

"I guess," said Isabel, looking at her eldest brother.

"It is a message for you all," said mamma gently. "But now, dears, to breakfast, and we can talk about the text afterwards."

When the first clatter of knives and forks had subsided, and the cups had been filled the second time, Walter began to explain his plans.

"You all know that there are many children down here, come like yourselves for a summer holiday. Of these many, no doubt, are from Christian families, and have been taught about God and the Bible as you have. But there are others who have heard very little of Jesus, or having heard, have not cared. Should we not like to reach even one of these children who have never heard?"

Several sympathising eyes were raised to Walter's.

"I know we should; but I see the question on your lips—How? Well, there are several ways; but the way that seems easiest to me is to try and gather them together on the sands, and tell them about Jesus."

"Oh, I have read of that!" said Nellie, "But could you, Walter?"

"I think we could manage it all together."

"I could not do anything," said Ada decidedly; "I should hate to be seen going about like that."

"Yes, I know it needs a little bit of self-denial at first; but if we remember our text, that will help us," he answered, glancing at the opposite wall.

"But we can't preach," said Arthur; "and you said you had something for us all to do."

"So I have. Nellie can sing, Ada can sing, so can Isabel and Netta a little; the rest can give round hymn papers, invite the children, and join in looking pleased and happy to see them come."

"I can't," said Ada; "for I shall dislike it extremely."

"We shall see," answered her brother patiently; "meanwhile, Ada, think of our text, dear, and try not to say anything to discourage the others. And then we must pray."

"Pray?" said Arthur.

"For God's blessing on what we do; for His help to get the children together; for His Holy Spirit to send the arrow to the dear little hearts. When we get to the beach, I will set you all to work. I have brought some hymn sheets with me."

Nellie felt the responsibility great of being considered "able to sing," And as they all with beating hearts walked down to the shore, she said to her brother, "I am afraid you count on me too much. I can start the tune, or I will try to, but my voice is not very loud, and if the children do not catch it up, I am afraid—"

"Don't be afraid," said Walter; "it will be sure to be all right, and someone will be there, I daresay, who will help. Think of our text."

Nellie smiled, reassured, and they soon reached the beach, where Walter set the children to work to make a circle on the sand. Tom's little carriage was wheeled into one side of it, and while the children were diligently digging a trench round the circle, Walter took a cane and wrote on the smooth sand in the centre what he called "their text."

When this was done, he began inviting a few children who stood near to help them. "We are going to have a little service," he said, "only lasting half an hour, and we want you to come and sing a few hymns; will you?"

Some of the children stared; others turned away; but one or two, who had seen the same sort of thing at other places, joined very heartily, and the circle was soon made, and some of the children began seating themselves with their feet in the trench.

Mrs. Arundel had her camp stool close to little Tom, and she too would be able to help the singing.

They were to begin at half-past eleven. The hymn sheets were handed round; and when Walter had given out in a clear voice the number, and read one verse of "A charge to keep I have," Nellie in rather trembling tones set the tune.

If Ada had not loved Nellie she told herself that she would not have joined, but in order to help her sister she did her best. And before the end of the first verse, the children took it up, and the hymn went well to the end.

Nellie found a lovely voice helping, close behind her, but was too nervous to turn; but when they all sat down she caught a glimpse of Miss Arbuthnot's dress, and guessed it was she who had sung so sweetly.

"Walter said we should find someone," thought Nellie thankfully; but she had no time to think more, for Walter, who was standing close to the upper end of the little circle, began in his pleasant voice—

"Now, children, can you all read our teat? It is upside down to a few of you; but see, I have written it so as to be read by those at the bottom, and I know it by heart. Let me see if you can all say it after me—'Ye are not your own. For ye are bought with a price: therefore glorify God in your body, and in your spirit, which are God's.'

"Now I shall only keep you half an hour altogether; and as we are going to sing two hymns there will not be too much time, so I hope you will all be very attentive, and be able to tell your mammas every word I say.

"'You are not your own!' Now whom do you belong to?"

He paused, and looked round the little circle.

"Some of you will say, I belong to mamma; some of you will say, I belong to papa, or to my grandparents, or to whoever has the charge of you. But whom do you belong to?

"It says here—can you read it?—'Your body and your spirit are God's.' Yes, you belong to God; therefore you must serve Him! Some of you love to please those who have the charge of you. Now do you not? How nice it is to hear one who loves you say, 'That is a good boy!' 'That is a good girl!' Yes, I know you do. But much, much more you will like to hear God say to you, 'Well done, good and faithful servant!'

"YOU BELONG TO GOD! This is what I want you to remember to-day!

"There was once a little boy—he was a slave in South America—whose master was very hard and cruel, often having him beaten when he had done no harm, and teaching him many cruel and wicked ways.

"One day a traveller came to this hard master's plantation. He was driven to take shelter there while a swarm of locusts passed over. His horse refused to go a step further, and turning in at the gate, he asked if he might remain there for a few hours. Leave was readily given; for people are very hospitable in South America, and this little slave was sent forward to put the stranger's horse in the stable.

"The traveller noticed the miserable plight of the poor boy, and gave him a kind word, at which the boy looked up astonished. He pitied the little slave, and afterwards, conversing with the master of the plantation, offered to buy him.

"'What, Harry?' said the master. 'He is a rascal, as idle as can be! But if you want him you shall have him, at my price; but you'll repent it!'

"The traveller paid the price, and by-and-by went out to find his horse and his slave. The boy was lying under a verandah; not attempting to work, but thinking how he could be idle, and yet avoid a fresh beating.

"The traveller strolled up to him. 'Harry,' he said, 'why do you not work?'

"'No good working, massa,' answered the boy sullenly. 'Harry work, gets a beating; Harry no work, gets beating too. So Harry please 'self, and no work.'

"'But I want you to untie my horse,' said the traveller.

"'Yes, massa,' said the boy, rousing himself a little at the mild tone; 'I get your horse for you.'

"'But you are mine, Harry; I have bought you!'

"'Yours, massa?' said the boy, leaping up. 'Yours? Why me not know dat; me do anything in worl' for you, massa!'

"The traveller smiled. 'Will you, Harry? And why will you do anything in the world for me?'

"''Cause massa's kind,' said the boy huskily; ''cause massa say nice words; 'cause massa's bought me from my cruel old massa!'

"Yes, children, you are not your own; you are bought with a price! What price? Is it money? No! Something much more precious than money! What can it be?

"God has plenty of money, but that would not do for you! He had only one precious thing that would do to buy you! What was it? For He gave it! The Bible says, 'Bought with the precious blood of Christ!' It was His own only Son! Yes; He gave His Son for all of you! Will you spring up as Harry did, and say to God, 'I did not know that; I will do anything in the world for you'?

"Now all repeat our text once more: 'Ye are not your own. For ye are bought with a price: therefore glorify God in your body, and in your spirit, which are God's.'"

By this time quite a little group had gathered together; but most of the inner circle had been too absorbed to notice. They now sang another hymn, which was well taken up; and after two or three words of prayer to ask God's blessing, the little party broke up, just as the clock near the beach struck twelve.

"Was it so very dreadful?" Walter said to Ada; but she turned away hastily, and would have nothing to say about it.

The children now dispersed to their digging or bathing; Walter and Arthur pushed Tom off on a promised expedition; and Miss Arbuthnot sat down by Nellie and Mrs. Arundel.

"Thank you for helping us so nicely," said Nellie. "We all felt it rather an ordeal, never having done such a thing before; but—"

"So it was; and it only shows what may be done with a little courage."

"Yes; and Walter has so much. He is truly brave."

"Your brother?"

"My own dear brother!"

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