CHAPTER II.

Neglected Duty.

IF there was pleasure in the cottage at the officer's return, what was the joy within the home of his parents! Perhaps there was not a more cheerful group in all England than that which gathered round the pastor's fireside on that cold evening in March. There were eager questionings, pleasant replies; every eye was turned towards Harry as he sat with his feet resting on the fender, and his mother's hand clasped in his own. Harry had much to relate which every one wanted to hear, and half the tale seemed untold when, at a later hour than usual, the family retired to rest, after the evening prayer had been prayed, and the evening hymn sung by voices which trembled with thankful joy.

Before breakfast on the following morning, as the vicar was taking his usual early walk round his lawn, he heard a quick step behind him, and then Harry's hand was laid on his arm.

"Ah! My boy, glad to see you! I could hardly have a word with you yesterday, your mother and the girls seemed resolved to have you all to themselves," said the vicar, as he wrung the hand of his son.

"It is so delightful to be at home once more!" observed Harry, while he sauntered along the gravel path at his father's side. "Everything looks just as when I left it, I could fancy myself, as in old times, just returning from school. It was a pleasure to me yesterday to see the familiar faces of good old Garth and his wife, who were standing in front of their cottage. I suppose that the hulking lad at their side was 'little Mat,' whom I remember at the Sunday class, when I made my first essay at teaching. Precious hard work it was to ram anything into his brain!"

"Mat is a good lad, though not a bright one," observed the vicar. "As for the Garths, there is not a more honest fellow in the village than Michael, and Martha is one of the kindest-hearted creatures that I ever met with in my life."

"I recollect," remarked the young officer, "that there was only one thing about the Garths which you used to regret in old days. They were steady in attendance at church, but they were not communicants then."

"Nor are they now," said the vicar, stopping for a moment in his walk. "It is to me a strange, an almost unaccountable thing, that God-fearing, God-serving people such as they, who attend the Lord's house, and prize His Word, should yet, month after month, year after year, turn their backs upon His table."

"They brought their children to be baptised," remarked the lieutenant.

"Ay, and their grandchild too," added the vicar, resuming his walk; "the Garths would have looked upon themselves as heathen had they neglected the one sacrament ordained by our Lord, while, apparently without any scruple, they constantly neglect the other. I have preached in public, and spoken in private on the subject, but still I am grieved to see three-fourths of my flock leave the church before the communion service begins, and the Garths always amongst them."

"Have they ever given a reason for this?" asked Harry.

"I doubt whether they have any reason which they could put into words," answered his father. "Garth agrees to everything that I say, will, as he says, 'attend some day, but not yet awhile;' his wife folds her hands, looks down, and says nothing. I suppose that if either of them were to be taken dangerously ill, I should be sent for in haste to administer the communion to the sick; as if they thought that there was some charm in the service to smooth their journey through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, or that life-long disobedience to their Master's command could be atoned for by one dying attempt to do His bidding when, perhaps, the mind would scarcely have power to grasp the meaning of the service."

"Or death may come suddenly, as I have seen it come so often to the strong and the young," observed the naval officer. "How little we can tell whether, when our summons comes, we shall be left one hour for preparation! I remember when I was ashore in one of the West India ports, I ventured to say something to a friend of mine, a young merchant, who was showing me kind hospitality, about his practice of doing business on Sundays. He answered me with perfect good humour, that he was obliged to work hard, for that he had set his heart on scraping up enough to take him home; that he would act very differently when in old England again, there he would take his rest on Sundays, go to church, and attend to his soul."

"'Now, I've no time,' added he.

"'My friend,' I ventured to observe, 'I often think of a proverb of Zeller—'

"'"The Americans say that time is money, the Christian says that time is Grace!"'

"The merchant smiled, shrugged his shoulders, and turned away. Poor fellow! His time of grace was to be short! He was seized with yellow fever that night, and remained unconscious of all that was passing around him, until called to meet his God!"

A shade of sadness passed over the face of Harry Maude, as he recalled the last moments of the poor young man who had been so busy in making the money which he was never to spend, as to have no time to spare in preparing for that eternity on which he so soon was to enter!

The vicar and his son walked on some paces in silence, then Harry said in a more cheerful tone, "I think that I'll drop in at Garth's cottage to-day; I know that the kind old folk won't be sorry to see me enter it again."

"And you might find some opportunity, Harry, of giving a word in season."

"I'm a little shy of doing that," replied the young officer; "I don't feel myself fit to teach others, there's so much that I myself need to learn."

"But you have learned two things, my son, which are the very root and foundation of all Christian knowledge; you have learned that you are a sinner, and that Jesus Christ is a Saviour. It is not the minister alone who is bound to spread the glad tidings of salvation. The woman of Samaria, as soon as she had found the Messiah, left her water-pot, and hastened away to carry the good news to all whom she met."

"I believe that it is a cowardly feeling of shame that so often keeps us from speaking on the subject of religion," said Harry; "at least it is so with me."

"Certainly cowardice is the last thing of which any one but yourself would have accused the winner of the Albert medal," observed the vicar with a smile. "You showed, on that awful night of the shipwreck, how ready you were to risk your life or limb to save the bodies of your fellow creatures; you are scarcely the man to flinch back when far more precious souls are in danger. But here come two of the girls to seek you; our sailor is not likely to be left much to himself after ten years of absence. Let us go and meet your sisters, my son."