ELIZABETH was thankful indeed for the welcome she had received at the humble cottage of her kind-hearted friends. Their home seemed like a palace to her, now that she was no longer a prisoner. The day she wended her steps towards that home was a memorable one to her. The same unseen presence seemed to follow her, and send a calmness into her soul. Awful as the thought was, that she was a widow, penniless almost, and a stranger in a foreign land, sweet, heavenly peace filled her soul, that the God of Israel was caring for her.
After her arrival at this resting-place afforded her, one wish filled her breast—that she might fly to her child. This was quite impossible, as Emmie was many miles away, and Elizabeth only possessed a few pence.
A few days after she was brought to this friendly shelter she received a letter, and on opening it she found a check for about £5, payable to herself. The money had been sent to her by the officer whose duty it was to pay the teachers' salaries, and this amount was sent to her as that due to her late husband. Elizabeth knew he had not been able to fulfill his duties for some time previous to his death; still the authorities paid the salary up to the date of his death. She was enabled at once to write to Betsy Cranstone asking her for her child.
On a spring morning Elizabeth started by a stage coach drawn by eight horses, dashing along over rough roads they were well trained to traverse. Up hill and down, now near the edge of awful precipices, then for two or three miles through an amphitheater of hills and rugged precipices. One false step, or an inexperienced driver, and all might have been hurled into the abyss below.
But all this was nothing to Elizabeth, for was she not going to meet her long-lost child! At the breakfast hour the coach stopped at a wayside inn, and Elizabeth ordered breakfast, and when she asked the amount of payment, the landlord, who was a perfect stranger to her, would not take anything. Her widow's garb might have won his sympathy. However, whatever was the cause, she had another manifestation of a Father's care.
Again the coach sped on its way, till Elizabeth had to change for the train. This was soon done, and in a short time, Emmie saw a train slowly steam into the primitive little railway station, on the platform of which she was standing with Betsy. And oh! joy burst into her little heart, for at the window of one of the carriages was the face of her long-lost mother, who soon took her to her breast, and then with a bursting heart of thankfulness to the Father of all mercies, parent and little one sped on their way.
They soon arrived at the temporary shelter that had been afforded to Elizabeth by the good people who had so befriended her. She, however, longed to be able to earn something for herself, as she knew that three months must elapse ere she could hear from friends at home. In a day or two she applied for a small school. Friends doubted the good of this application, as there were so many other applicants; but Elizabeth could trust in a little measure her heavenly Father now, whose care had been so manifested to Edward in providing for him; so she felt assured that she would have that which was good for her. She calmly waited the issue of events.
Three days after her application, while sitting at tea, a messenger came with a note. On opening it she was
informed that a temporary teacher was wanted at Seafield; average attendance sixteen; salary after the rate of £81;
expenses paid, and she was asked to go. She was given the money for a first-class ticket and expense of vehicle. Imagine her joy, dear reader, once more to be able to shield her little one, and to have a sphere of labor. God can use whom He will for His people's good, and He does the very best for those who leave the choice to Him. "Omnipotence hath servants everywhere.” Once again could she sing:
“How good is the God I adore.”
He restored her to health, gave her back her child, and now was bestowing on her an earthly home, and although He had taken her husband to the paradise above, He was not going to leave her alone; for He Himself was to be her guard and guide, and give her the privilege of scattering seeds of truth among the children of parents who could not point them the way to the tender Shepherd.
What an honor to serve Him in the smallest measure; but the vessels He uses are made meet for the Master's use. He wounds to heal, He breaks the earthen vessel that His light may shine out to poor benighted travelers. He uses the weak things of the earth that He Himself and not another may have all the glory.
“Close to His feet on the pathway,
Empty, and frail, and small,
An earthen vessel was lying,
Which seemed of no good at all.
“But the Master saw and raised it
From the dust in which it lay,
And smiled as He gently whispered,
This shall do My work to-day.”