FANCY I hear some little child say, “Oh! what can this story be about?” You will see. Little Neddie, an Irish lad, came into possession of a Bible. It was but three months before his death that he did so. The Douay Testament, which he saw for the first time he read, and he believed to the saving of his soul, and then he died. His poor mother grieved for him―patiently, but long and sore. And his Testament was laid safely by, in the large chest nearly always to be found in the Irish cottage―buried there―a precious relic of the beloved boy.
Time ran on. Her children often asked for the loan, as they called it, of “Neddie’s Book.” But it was rarely, if ever, given; till, at the end of eight years, the youngest boy of the family, Mickie, became delicate. No longer able to run after a hunt―to fish―to do all which life on the edge of a large demesne affords to please, he had to sit quietly at home to rest his aching limbs. For him medical aid could do but little. In his loneliness he thought of Neddie’s book. Would his mother lend it to him just for a little, “to read, and give back to her”? Yes; she would not, could not refuse the sick boy; and he read on until the little Testament became his only companion. It was not long after this, when visiting, as in years before, at my uncle’s, he said, one day, “I wish you would come and see Mickie; if there is anything we can do for him.” I readily consented, thinking of the time when I had gone over the gam ground to see his brother.
It was the lovely autumn, and the walk ova! in itself delightful. We crossed a rustic bridge, and paused for a moment to watch the rapid river, with its overhanging trees and moss grown rocks. Then came large fields, with pretty sheep, which just raised their heads to look at us as we passed on, till we came to the little farm of Mickie’s father.
Soon Mrs. K. appeared―so glad to see us―this we quite expected; for few give a more graceful reception to a visitor than an Irish peasant. But I confess I did not expect to hear what she told me. It was so like Neddie’s story over again.
To our inquiries she replied, “Sure enough he can’t walk a step without his crutch; but, if he is able at all, he is always reading the book. He never stopped till he made me give him the book you gave Neddie; and his father has made him a seat up there.” And she pointed to a hedge facing the sun in which a seat had been hollowed out—a regular bower of hazel and may. And there sat Mickie. I passed on to him, and saw the well-known book peeping out of his pocket. “He is always reading it,” said his mother; “it is the finest of company.”
A year had passed by when, in the autumn of 1876, I was again in B., and found Mickie the same as to health, but becoming much better acquainted with his Testament. One day when visiting him he seemed puzzled about the Roman Catholic doctrine of the worship of the Virgin Mary. I showed him Luke 1:4747And my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour. (Luke 1:47) (“And my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour”), as the teaching of Scripture on the subject, and was glad to see he was enabled to think for himself.
The book continues his unfailing companion. I inquired if he did not feel lonely on Sunday when all the family go to Mass. “Oh, no!” Mickie replied, with a smile, “I read while they are away,” And day by day Mickie is reading on―alone―yet not alone, surely! One, who has compassion on the ignorant, and on them who are out of the way, is leading him slowly, yet certainly, to see God’s “way of salvation.”
I read to him the lovely stories of the Prodigal Son and the Thief on the Cross, to show him the great truths of the love of God the Father; and also to present salvation by the death of Christ. On leaving the neighborhood I gave him a little volume of gospel hymns, and silently commended him to the Lord. Perhaps some who read this story will ask the Lord to bless the study of the Douay Testament to Mickie; and to others at B. also. And may we all be stirred up to study more diligently the written Word, to learn of Jesus Christ, whom to know is life eternal. A. E. B.