CHAPTER II.

_THE DREAM._

THE hymn was over, and Paul sat down, but not to listen to a word of the sermon. Good and holy words were spoken, which touched most of the hearers' hearts, but they never reached the heart of Paul. The boy fell fast asleep in his dark corner of the church, and there he remained fast asleep till long after the sermon had been ended, and the blessing had been given by the preacher.

Paul not only slept, but he dreamed—a strange and wondrous dream. The place in which he was seemed to widen, the roof to rise, till instead of a ceiling above him were clouds of glory, and beneath him a pavement of gold. There was music, but far sweeter, and more joyful than what Paul had heard in church. Instead of mortal men and women, shining, happy beings were around the dreamer, with starry crowns and waving wings, that glittered like jewels in the glorious light.

But though all that Paul saw in his dream was beauty and gladness, he could not delight in the beauty, he could not share in the joy. Paul's heart felt nothing but dread. He did not belong to the happy band; he could not join in their song; he feared lest one of the shining ones should notice that he was there. Paul would fain have hidden himself, but had no place wherein to hide. Terror seized him when one of the beautiful angels drew near, and said, "What dost thou here?"

Paul was dumb, and could not reply. The proud tongue which had so often repeated holy words without fear had lost all power to utter one now.

Then Paul seemed to hear the sentence, "Thrust him forth into outer darkness!" And the start of terror which he gave awakened the boy from his dream.

Paul found himself indeed in darkness. The lights in the church had all been put out; the worshippers had gone to their homes; no one had noticed the sleeping boy, and he had been locked into the church.

Paul's first feeling was that of great surprise at finding the church so still and so dark; his next was that of alarm. He groped his way to the outer door. How still and dark the place seemed as he moved down the aisle! And, oh, how terribly cold! The clock struck nine just as Paul reached the great door. It was locked. Paul shook it, and shook it again, but had no power to force it open. He called as loudly as he could, but the church stood in the middle of a large churchyard, no house was near, and no one heard the boy's voice.

"Some one will search for me, oh, surely some one will search!" cried Paul.

He thought of his loving grandparents, who, old and feeble as they were, would be sure to brave the piercing cold if they know that their boy was in danger. But then another thought startled Paul. "Grandfather will think that I am at my uncle's; he will fancy me seated at his table beside a blazing fire."

The contrast between his uncle's pleasant home, with its supper and cheerful blaze, made his present dreary position seem worse than ever to the hungry lad. But Paul tried to keep up his courage and warm his chilled frame by walking up and down the part of the church which was nearest to the door, stamping his feet and swinging his arms to keep out the cold.

Ten o'clock struck. Paul counted each stroke on the bell. How loud and solemn was the sound!

"Only ten!" muttered Paul. "I shall have to wait twelve whole hours before this church is opened to prepare for New Year's service! The New Year!" he repeated. "Oh! In how wretched a way I shall begin the New Year! I'll go to sleep in one of the pews, and so try to get over the time. The night grows colder and colder."

Paul did snatch a short sleep, but awoke quite cramped and chilled, and with shoots of rheumatic pain, which frightened him more than anything else. It was one of the bitterest nights that had ever been known in England. The boy dared not sleep again lest he should bring back his dreadful rheumatic fever.

When eleven o'clock struck, Paul's courage quite gave way. His limbs were trembling, his teeth were chattering, his blood seemed turning to ice. He remembered that his grandfather had read in the papers the day before that four persons had been found frozen to death.

"What if I should die before morning!" thought Paul, and it was a terrible thought. "I am not fit to die, I am not fit to go to the beautiful place of which I was dreaming. Hark! What is that tinkling sound which I faintly hear? The bells of St. John's Church are ringing for the midnight service; James Barton will be hastening now to that church to pray in the New Year. Oh, that I could pray too!" It was the first time that such a wish had come into the mind of Paul. He had attended church service hundreds of times, but he had never really prayed in his life.

"I can't pray, I can think of no words," groaned the poor boy, as he swayed his body to and fro; for he was afraid to remain quite still, and yet was almost too stiff and cold to move about freely. "Perhaps that hymn may serve as a prayer; I'll try a verse; it may help me to forget for a few minutes the misery that I am in."

In a very different way from that in which he had sung a few hours before, Paul, with trembling voice, attempted to sing—

"'Then, oh! my Lord, prepare My soul for that great day.'"

Paul felt that for him the great day might be near. He no longer felt sure of "fifty or sixty years" of life. He knew now that he had need of comfort, of help, of forgiveness. Paul clasped his numbed hands, and tears came into his eyes as he sang the words of entreaty—

"'Oh! wash me in Thy precious blood, And take my sins away.'"

But how much better was Paul's feeble prayer for mercy, than his late bold, careless singing of words so solemn and holy!

Twelve o'clock struck. The New Year had come! Some in London were praying, many were sleeping, not a few, alas! were drinking in the Now Year. Again Paul tried to get warmth by walking about, but the frost was becoming more intense as the night advanced. The moon had now risen, and dimly shone through the frosted windows. Paul could distinguish some objects near him, such as the reading-desk, on which lay the large Bible, that Bible which had been read so often in his hearing, but to which he had never cared to listen.

"If I live through this dreadful night, I will try to be a very different boy to what I have been," thought Paul Harley. "I will try to be more dutiful to my old grandparents; they have had little comfort in me. What would not I give now to be more like James, whom I despised for being so pious! There is no danger of his being driven into outer darkness. The angels will welcome him, for he loves the Lord whom they love."

The weary, weary minutes stole on. It was now nearly one o'clock. Drowsiness was creeping over Paul, but he knew the danger of sleeping when the cold is intense; if he slept now, he might never waken again, or waken in torture.

"I can only keep myself awake by singing," thought Paul. "I will sing that hymn over again, and try to think of the words, and to make them indeed a New Year's prayer."

Paul sang, and this time loudly, for he was calling on God from the heart, and so threw his whole soul into the hymn.

"Who is singing there—at this hour?" cried a voice from outside.

Paul sprang to his feet with almost a cry of delight.

"I'm Paul Harley—I'm locked in—I'm almost frozen!" he shouted with the utmost strength of his voice.

"Paul Harley!" echoed the speaker without.

"Oh! Run, run—quick as light—and get the key of the church!" cried Paul.

"Trust James Barton for that!" cried the voice, and off rushed the speaker at full speed.

Yes, it was James, who, returning from the church where he had prayed in the New Year, had taken his homeward way through the churchyard of that in which poor Paul was looked up. It was not James' shortest way home, but he had chosen it because St. Mary's church and churchyard would look, he thought, so beautiful in the moonlight, robed in their winter mantle of snow. James had been not a little surprised to hear the sound of Paul's hymn in a spot so lonely and quiet. But for that sound, James would have passed the church without suspecting that any one was shivering and starving within it.

I have not space to describe how James ran, as if for his life, to the house of the clerk of St. Mary's, and rang so furiously at the bell, that the poor man, his wife, and all his family, thought that the place was on fire. It is enough to say that James was trusted with the church key, for his character was known to the clerk, and back he hastened to the church. The big key was turned in the lock, the heavy door swung back on its hinges, the imprisoned Paul was set free; and with what a hearty grasp of the hand did he thank his kind deliverer!

"Come to our home for the rest of the night," said James; "mother will bid you heartily welcome, I'm sure of that. She is sitting up to give me my hot supper on my return from church, and I need not say how glad I shall be for you to share it."

Very thankfully was the invitation accepted. Paul felt as if new life were poured into his frozen veins when he sat by a glowing fire, and drank hot steaming soup. Before he went to rest, he had confessed to James the wrong he had done him by spoiling his ship, and asked forgiveness for that and other acts of unkindness.

"Let bygones be bygones," said James, smiling; "this is New Year's day you know; let us both resolve, by God's help, to begin it well, and make a better use of our time than we ever have done before."

Paul did make the resolve, and earnestly and prayerfully tried to keep it. He was a better and happier being to the end of his life for his adventure on New Year's Eve.

JOE'S LETTER

_A New Year's Story_

BY A.L.O.E.

_Author of "The Claremont Tales,"_ _"The White Bear's Den," &c._

[Illustration]

MARSHALL BROTHERS, LTD.

LONDON, EDINBURGH.

JOE'S LETTER

BY A.L.O.E.

[Illustration: "No, Granny, I can't see him."]

JOE'S LETTER

A New Year's Story.

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