THE WALK.

Outside of the window in Madam Rachel's bedroom, where the children used to sit and talk with her just before going to bed, there was a little platform, with a plain roof over it, supported by small square posts, altogether forming a sort of portico. Below this window there were two doors, opening from the middle out each way, so that when the window was raised, and the doors were opened, a person could walk in and out. There were seats in the portico, and there was a wild grape-vine growing upon a plain trellis, on each side. In front of the portico was one of the broad walks of the garden, for on this side the garden extended up to the house. At least there was no fence between, though there was a small plot of green grass next to the house; and next to that came the trees and flowers.

One pleasant evening Dwight and Caleb were playing on this grass, waiting for Madam Rachel to come and call them in to the sofa. It was about eight o'clock, but it was not dark. The western sky still looked bright; for though the sun had gone down, so that it could no longer shine upon the trees and houses, it still shone upon the clouds and atmosphere above, and made them look bright.

Presently Madam Rachel came, and stood at the window.

“Where's David?” said she.

“Out in the garden,” said Dwight, “and mother,” he continued, “I wish you would walk in the garden to-night.”

At first, Madam Rachel said she thought she could not very well that evening, for she had a difficult text to talk about; but the boys promised to walk along quietly, and to be very sober and attentive; and so she went and put on her garden bonnet, and came out.

The garden was not large, it extended back to some high rocky precipices, where the boys used sometimes to climb up for play.

“I am afraid,” said Madam Rachel, as she sauntered along the walk, the children around her, “that you will not like the verse that I am going to talk with you about this evening, very well, when you first hear it.”

“What is it mother?” said Dwight.

“'And you hath he quickened, who were dead in trespasses and sins.'”

“What does quickened mean?” asked David.

“Made alive, or brought to life. Quick means alive, sometimes; as for instance, the quick and the dead, means the living and the dead. And so we say, 'cut to the quick,' that is, cut to the living flesh, where it can feel.”

“Once I read in a fable,” said David, “of a horse being stung to the quick.”

“What, by a hornet?” said Dwight.

“No,” said David, “by something the ass said.”

“O, yes,” said Madam Rachel, “that means it hurt his feelings. If a bee should sting any body so that the sting should only go into the skin, it would not hurt much; but if it should go in deep, so as to give great pain, we should say it stung to the quick, that is, to the part which has life and feeling. So I suppose that something that the ass said, hurt the horse's feelings.”

“What was it, David, that the ass said?” asked Dwight.

“Why—he said, I believe that the horse was proud, or something like that.”

“No matter about that fable now,” said their mother; “you understand the meaning of the verse. It was written to good men; it says that God gave them life and feeling, when they were dead in trespasses and sins. But I must first tell you what dead means.”

“O, we know what 'dead' means, well enough,” said Dwight.

“Perhaps not exactly what it means here,” said Madam Rachel.

“Dead means here insensible.”

“But I don't know what insensible means,” said Caleb.

“I will explain it to you,” said she. “Once there were two boys who quarreled in the recess at school; and the teacher decided that for their punishment they should be publicly reproved before all the scholars. So, after school, they were required to stand up in their places, and listen to the reprimand. While they were standing, and the teacher was telling them that they had done very wrong,—had indulged bad passions, and displeased God, and destroyed their own happiness, and brought disgrace upon the school,—one of them stood up with a bold and careless air, while the teacher was speaking, and afterwards when he took his seat, looked round to the other scholars, and laughed. The other boy hung his head, and looked very much ashamed; and as the teacher had finished what he was saying, he sunk into his seat, put his head down upon his desk before him, and burst into tears. Now, the first one was insensible, or as it is called in this text, dead to all sense of shame. The other was alive to it. You understand now?”

“Yes, mother,” said the boys.

The party walked on for a short time in silence, admiring the splendid and beautiful scenery which was presented to view, in the setting sun, and the calm tranquility which reigned around.

Suddenly Caleb, seeing a beautiful lily growing in a border, as they were walking by, stopped to gather it. Madam Rachel was afraid that he was not attending to what she was saying.

“Now, Caleb,” said she, “that's a very pretty lily; but suppose you should go and hold it before Seizem. Do you suppose he would care any thing about it?”

Seizem was a great dog that belonged to Madam Rachel.

“No, grandmother,” said Caleb, “I don't think he would.”

“And suppose you were to go and pat him on his head, and tell him he was a good dog, would he care any thing about that?”

“Yes,” said Dwight; “he would jump, and wag his tail, and almost laugh.”

“Then you see, boys, that Seizem is 'quick' and alive to praise; but to beauty of colour, and form he is insensible, and as it were, dead. The beauty makes no impression upon him at all, he is stupid and lifeless, so far as that is concerned.

“Now, what is meant by men being dead in trespasses and sins is, that they are thus insensible to God's goodness, and their duty to love and obey him. Suppose, now, I was to go out into the street, and find some boys talking harshly and roughly to one another, as boys often do in their plays; and suppose they were boys that I knew, so that it was proper for me to give them advice; now, if I were to go and tell them that it was the law of God that they should be kind to one another, and that they ought to be so, and thus obey and please him, what effect do you think it would have?”

“They would not mind it very much,” said David.

“I expect that they would though,” said Dwight.

“I don't think that they would mind it much myself. Each one wants to have his own way, and to seek his own pleasures, and they do not see the excellence of obeying and pleasing God at all. It seems to me a very excellent thing for boys to try to please God, but I know very well that most boys care no more about it than Seizem would for your lily, Caleb. In respect to God they are insensible and dead; dead in trespasses and sins, and the only hope for them is, that God will quicken them; that is, give them life and feeling; and then, if I say just the same things to them, they will listen seriously and attentively, and will really desire to please God. As it is now with almost all boys, they are so insensible and dead to all sense of regard to God, that when we want to influence them to do their duty, we must appeal to some other motive; something that they have more sensibility to.

“For example, you remember the other day when you went a strawberrying with Mary Anna.”

“Yes,” said Dwight.

“Now, I recollect that I thought there was great danger that you might be troublesome to Mary Anna, or to some others of the party; and I wanted to say something to you before you went, to make you a good boy. The highest and best motive would have been for me to say, 'Now, Dwight, remember and do what is right to-day. The trees and fields, and pleasant sunshine; the flowers and the strawberries, your own health and strength, and joyous feelings, all come from God; the whole scene that you are going to enjoy to-day, he has contrived for you, and now he will watch over you all the time, and be pleased if he sees you careful and conscientious in doing right all day. Now, be a good boy, for the sake of pleasing him.' Suppose I had said that to you, do you think it would have made you a good boy?”

Dwight held down his head, and said, hesitatingly, that he did not think it would.

“That motive would have been piety. If a boy takes pains to do what is right, and avoid what is wrong, because he is grateful to God, and wishes to please him, it is piety. But I was afraid that would not have much influence with you, and so I tried to think of some other motive. I thought of filial affection next.”

“What is that?” said Caleb.

“Filial affection is a boy's love for his father or mother,” replied Madam Rachel. “I said to myself, How will it do to appeal to Dwight's filial affection, to-day? I can say to him, 'Now, Dwight, be a good boy to-day, to please me. I shall be very happy to-night if Mary Anna comes home and says that you have been kind, and gentle and yielding all day.' But then, on reflection, I thought that that motive would not be powerful enough. I knew you had at least some desire to please me, but I had some doubt whether it would be enough to carry you through all the temptations of the whole day. Do you recollect what I did say to you, Dwight?”

“Yes, mother,” replied Dwight, “you told me just before I went away, that if I was a good, pleasant boy, Mary Anna would want to take me again some day.”

“Yes, and what principle in your heart was that appealing to?”

Dwight did not answer. David said, “Selfishness.”

“Yes,” said his mother; “or rather not selfishness, but self-love. Selfishness means not only a desire for our own happiness, but injustice towards others. It would have been wrong for me to have appealed to Dwight's selfishness, as that would have been encouraging a bad passion; but it was right for me to appeal to his self-love, that is, to shew him how his own future enjoyment would depend upon his being a good boy that day.

“Now, Dwight, do you think that what I said had any influence over you that day?”

“Yes, mother,” said Dwight, “I think it did. I thought of it a good many times.”

“Would it have had as much influence if I had asked you to be a good boy only to please me?”

Dwight acknowledged that he did not think it would.

“Do you think it would have had as much influence if I had asked you to do right to please God?”

“No, mother,” said Dwight.

“Do you think that would have had any influence at all?”

Dwight seemed at a loss, and said he didn't know.

“Do you think it would?” said Caleb.

“Why, yes,” said Madam Rachel, though she spoke in rather a doubtful tone. “I rather think it would have had some influence—not much, but some. He would not have thought of it very often, but still, I rather think, at least I hope, that Dwight has some desire to please God, and that it now and then influences him a little. But in boys generally, I don't think that such a motive would have any influence at all.”

“Not any at all?” said David.

“Why, you can judge for yourself. Do you suppose that the boys at school, and those that you meet in the street, are influenced in their conduct every day, by any desire to please God?”

“Why, nobody tells them,” said Dwight.

“O, yes, they have been told over and over again, at church, and in the Sabbath school, till they are tired of hearing it.”

The boys were silent, and the whole party walked along very slowly, for several steps; and then David said that he thought that though the boys were pretty bad, he did not think they were quite so bad as they would be, if they did not hear any thing about God. He said it seemed to him that it had some influence upon them.

“O, yes,” said Madam Rachel, “I have no doubt that what is said to them about their duty to God has a very important influence over them in various ways. Religious instruction produces a great many good effects upon the conduct of boys and men, even where it does not awaken any genuine love for God, and honest desire to please him. That is a peculiar feeling. I will tell you.”

So saying, Madam Rachel paused, and seemed a moment to be lost in thought. The whole party had by this time gone almost the whole round of the walk, and were now slowly sauntering towards the house and as Madam Rachel said those last words, they were just passing along by the side of the rocky declivity at the back of the garden. Madam Rachel looked upon the rocks, and saw a beautiful little blue-bell growing there in a crevice, and hanging over at the top.

“What a beautiful blue-bell there is!” said she.

“Where?” said the boys, looking around.

“There,” said she, “just by the side of the little fir-tree. How Mary Anna would admire it.”

“I'll climb up and get it for her,” said Dwight. “I'll have it in a minute.”

He dropped his mother's hand, and began scrambling up the rocks. They were jagged and irregular fragments, with bushes and trees among them, and Dwight, who was a very expert climber, soon had the blue-bell in his hand, and was coming down delighted with his prize. He brought the leaves of the plant with it, and it was in fact an elegant little flower.

“Now, Dwight,” said Madam Rachel, as they walked along again, Dwight holding his flower very carefully in his hand, “notice this feeling you have towards Mary Anna, which led you to get the flower. It was not fear of her,—it was not hope of getting any reward from her, I suppose.”

“No, indeed, mother,” said Dwight.

“It was simply a desire to give her pleasure. When you go in, you will take a pleasure yourself in going to her, and gratifying her with the present. Now, do you suppose that the boys generally have any such feeling as that towards God?”

“No, mother,” said David, “I don't think they have.”

“Nor do I. They are dead to all such feelings. They take no pleasure in pleasing God. They don't like to think of him, and I don't see that they shew any signs of having any love for him at all.”

They walked along, after this, silently. Dwight saw how destitute of love to God his heart had been, and still was; and yet he could not help thinking that he did sometimes feel a little grateful to God for all his kindness and care; and at least some faint desires to please him.

It was nearly dark when they arrived at the house; and Dwight asked his mother to let him run and give Mary Anna her blue-bell. She was very much pleased with it indeed. She arranged it and the leaves that Dwight had brought with it, so as to give the whole group a graceful form, and put it in water, saying she meant to rise early the next morning to paint it. Dwight determined that he would get up too and see her do it.

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