A Recruiting Sergeant

It was Sunday morning. Along a sweet-scented lane, with shady limes overhead and honeysuckle and wild roses growing in profusion on the hedges at each side, walked Teddy's mother, holding her little son tightly by the hand. The bells of the village church were ringing out for the service, and groups of two and three were passing in at the old lych gate. Mrs. John was talking in her sweet clear voice to her boy, and he, letting his restless blue eyes rove to and fro, noting every bird on the hedges and every flower in the path, kept bringing them back to his mother's face with a dreamy upward gaze. 'I will try, mother, I really will. I will keep my hands tight in my pockets, and my feet close together; I will pretend I'm going to be shot by a file of soldiers, and then I really think that will help me not to fidget. I promise you I'll be good to-day.'

And having received this protestation from him, Mrs. John passed into church with a relieved mind. Teddy's restless little body was a sore trial to any one who sat next him in church, and many were the lectures that had been bestowed on him by Sunday-school teacher and pastor, besides the gentle admonitions of his mother.

As Teddy quietly perched himself on the seat beside his mother, he murmured to himself, 'Twenty soldiers in front of me, twenty rifles pointing—I shall stand like a rock—I'll set my teeth, and I shan't even blink my eyes. Now I see the officer coming—he's going to say, "Present!" I'm not moving a muscle. Five minutes more they'll give me—'

His active brain here received a check. There on the opposite side, facing him, was Nancy, seated between her mother and old Sol. She was still in her sailor suit, and with her dark mischievous brown eyes fixed steadily on him, Teddy could not remain unmoved beneath her gaze for long. His little hands were working nervously in his coat pockets. Why did she stare at him so? Well, he could stare back, and then blue eyes and brown confronted each other for some moments with unblinking defiance in their gaze. At last Teddy's patience gave way, and twisting up his little features into a most grotesque grimace, he mounted a hassock to give her the full benefit of it.

Instantly, out came a little red tongue at him, and at this daring piece of audacity he gasped out loud, 'I hate you!' Then, as all eyes in the surrounding pews were turned upon him, and his mother's shocked gaze met his, Teddy crimsoned to the roots of his hair, and taking up a large Prayer-book, he used it as a shield from his small antagonist during the remainder of the service. As the congregation were leaving the church later on, the rector made his way to young Mrs. Platt, who was lingering talking to a neighbour. He was a grey-haired, gentle-faced man, with a slow dreamy manner in speaking.

'Mrs. John, what has happened to make your little boy so forget himself this morning?'

'Indeed, sir, I cannot say. I really thought he was going to be good to-day.'

'I think he had better come to tea with me this afternoon, and we will have a little talk together.'

Teddy looked up with awe in his blue eyes. He well knew that this was the rector's usual practice when any delinquent was brought before his notice, but it had never yet fallen to his lot to receive the invitation. Mr. Upton had his own way of doing things, so people said, and he had greater faith in reasoning with any culprits than scolding them, whether they were grown men, or women, or children.

Teddy's restless ways in church had been a trial to him for a long time, and he felt that this morning's action must receive a check. 'Thank you, sir,' responded Mrs. John; 'he shall come to you after school is over this afternoon.'

And Teddy, completely sobered, walked home beside his mother without uttering a word.

At half-past four he stood on the rectory doorsteps looking into the cool broad hall in front of him, which led out of a glass door at the opposite end into a brilliant flower garden. Spotless white druggeting covered the floor and stairs, and everything indoors denoted a careful housekeeper. Mr. Upton was a widower, and was to a great extent ruled by two or three old and faithful servants.

As the boy stood there the rector appeared, and led him into his study.

'We shall have half an hour before tea, to have a little conversation, my boy. Sit down, and tell me what you have been learning at Sunday-school this afternoon.'

'Teacher was telling us about the children of Israel in Egypt. I'm afraid I don't remember very much what he said, for I was busy thinking about coming to see you.'

Mr. Upton smiled, and drew the child on to talk; then, after he was thoroughly at ease, he put a large Bible in front of him.

'I want you to read me a verse in the First Epistle of St. John, and the third chapter. It is the fifteenth verse; can you find it?'

'Yes, sir,' and with an eager importance Teddy turned over the leaves.

'Whosoever hateth his brother is a murderer,' he read solemnly.

'That will do. Now think it over for five minutes in silence, and then tell me what your thoughts are about it.'

The boy hung his head in shame; he folded his arms and sat immovable till the five minutes were over, then he said timidly, 'I wouldn't hate a brother. I'd like to have one. Do you think it means the same when it's a girl?'

'Precisely the same—a brother means any person in the world, man, woman, or child.'

'Then I ought to be hung.'

There was much self-pity in Teddy's tone. Mr. Upton did not smile, he was gazing abstractedly out of the window, and said slowly, 'The root of murder is anger. The same motive that prompts a passionate statement, prompts a passionate and perhaps fatal blow.'

There was silence; then in a more cheerful tone the rector turned to the little culprit.

'And now tell me the whole story, and who it was that you spoke to in church.'

Teddy was perfectly ready with his defence, and he poured into his listener's ears such a voluble story that the rector was quite bewildered when it came to an end. 'It's father's button I care about,' added the boy, fingering his beloved object proudly, 'and she didn't believe me a bit, and she put out her tongue as long as ever she could!'

'Tell me the story of the button; I have heard, but have forgotten the details.'

Teddy's eyes sparkled, and his little head was raised erect again. Slipping off his chair, he stood in front of the rector, and told the oft-repeated tale with dramatic force and effect. Mr. Upton listened with interest, but before he could offer any comment on it tea was announced, and taking the child by the hand he marched him into the dining-room.

Hot tea-cakes, strawberry jam, and plum cake kept our little friend fully occupied for some time. He wondered if all the naughty boys interviewed by the rector had been treated to the same fare, and he began to think an invitation to Sunday tea at the rectory highly desirable.

'And now,' said Mr. Upton, towards the end of the meal, 'I want some more talk with you. Your father was a brave soldier; he died in saving the colours. You want to grow up like him, do you not?'

'Yes, sir, indeed I do.'

'There is a little verse in God's Word that describes our Lord's banner—His colours. Will you say it after me?—"His banner over me was love."' Teddy repeated the verse slowly, and with interest.

'It is a wonderful banner,' pursued Mr. Upton thoughtfully, 'the enemy confronted with it on every side. In the thick of the fight we can but hoist our colours, "Love." God's love to man, when man is fighting from his infancy against his Maker. What host would not march to meet the foe with such a banner dyed red with the life-blood of their Captain, the Son of God, the Saviour of the world?'

Teddy drew a long breath, and when the rector paused, he cried enthusiastically, 'Please go on, sir. I like to hear it. Will God let me hold up the banner for Him?'

'If you have enlisted in His service. Are you one of His soldiers?'

'I don't know.'

'God always wants each of us to present ourselves to Him, if we want to enlist in His army. Have you done that? There must come a time in our lives when we yield ourselves wholly and unreservedly to the one who is our rightful owner. Why, my boy, do you believe that Jesus died upon the cross to save you? Did He bear your sins for you there?'

'Yes,' said Teddy, fixing his blue eyes earnestly on the rector, 'I really believe He did, for mother has often explained it to me.'

'Then how dare you stand aloof from His army? How is it that you have never enlisted? Are you marching along in the enemy's ranks?'

Teddy's small hands were clenched, and his eyes lit up with a great resolve.

'I'll enlist at once, sir. I'll be one of God's soldiers now.'

'How are you going to do it?'

'I don't know. Tell me, please.'

There was silence. Mr. Upton met the child's earnest, upward gaze with awe, as he realised how much hung on his words. He had a firm belief in children being able to lead a consistent Christian life. He knew the Master would accept a child's heart, and guide and keep the frail and helpless steps on the way heavenward. And with a swift prayer for guidance he spoke.

'You must tell God about it yourself, and don't be in a hurry. Kneel down quietly by yourself somewhere, and first of all ask that the Holy Spirit may guide you, that your sins may be blotted out, and your name written in the Book of Life, for the sake of Jesus who died for you. Then tell God you want Him to enlist you, and give yourself right up to Him for now and for all eternity.'

Mr. Upton spoke slowly and emphatically; he knew he often preached above the heads of his little hearers, and he strove to speak in simple language now.

Teddy remained very silent; then he said, 'And if I enlist, shall I have to be God's soldier for ever and ever, till I'm an old man of a hundred, with white hair and no teeth?'

'Would you rather be one of the devil's soldiers?'

'No.'

'You are quite right to think it over. I would rather you did not decide too hastily. Go home and think it out. And come and tell me when you have decided.'

The boy's white brow was crumpled with anxious creases.

'I should like to be one of God's soldiers, but who shall I have to fight? Any real enemies, or only make believe?'

'I will tell you about your enemies after you have enlisted. I can show you one very real one that is your worst enemy.'

'Can you? A real live one?'

'A real live one.'

Teddy smiled contentedly.

'Now,' added Mr. Upton, 'I am going to send you home. If you enlist, the first person you will have to hold up your banner to is that little girl whom you said you hated. Before you go I want to pray for you. Kneel down with me.'

The evening sunshine streamed in through the open window, and alighting on the white hair of the minister and the boy's fair curls, as they knelt together, bathed them in a golden glory. With closed eyes and folded hands Teddy listened to Mr. Upton's prayer,—

'Loving Father, another lamb I bring to Thee. Guide him in his decision, and if he enters Thy fold, use him and bless him through all eternity. Grant that he may fight a good fight, and be crowned with glory hereafter. For Jesus Christ's sake. Amen.'

An hour later, and Teddy was seated by his mother's side in the old porch. His grandmother and uncle had gone to evening church, and Mrs. John was left with her boy alone.

He had been telling her the substance of his conversation with the rector, and now curled up on the low wooden seat, his small legs crossed underneath him, he was gazing dreamily out into the sweet-scented garden. The bees were droning, and the gnats humming amongst the tall hollyhocks and crimson and white roses close by; the birds were already twittering their last 'good-nights' to one another, and a soft, peaceful spell seemed to be falling on all around.

'I feel,' he said presently, as he gazed up into the still blue sky, 'as if God is waiting for me, mother.'

Mrs. John did not answer. He added quickly, 'When did you enlist, mother; long, long ago?'

'Yes, darling, just before I married your father.'

'And when did father enlist? When he was a little boy like me?'

'Not till he was a grown man, sonny. He often used to say he wished he had given his heart to God when he was younger.'

'I suppose God will take little soldiers? Do you think I shall be the youngest He has?'

'No, darling; He has many brave little soldiers younger than you.'

Another long silence, then a deep-drawn sigh from Teddy.

'I feel I have very big thoughts to-night, mother, and I get so crowded thinking. Will you read to me before I go to bed?'

Mrs. John pressed her lips on the curly head so near her.

'My boy, I am so glad for you to have these thoughts. Mother has often prayed that you may be one of Christ's little soldiers and servants. Now what shall I read?'

'Read me about the three men and the burning fiery furnace.'

And the young mother took her Bible in hand, and drawing her boy close to her till his little head rested against her shoulder, read him the story he wished.

Later on, as she tucked him up in bed, and was giving him a kiss, he clasped his arms round her neck and whispered, 'I think I'm going to do it quite by myself to-morrow.'