Choice Readings for the Home Circle | Page 9

I was taught the duties of a Christian child; abroad I must not neglect them, and one of these was evening prayer. From a very little boy I had been in the habit of kneeling and asking the forgiveness of God, for Jesus' sake, acknowledging his mercies, and seeking his protection and blessing.
"Why don't you come to bed, Robert?" cried Fred. "What are you sitting there for?" I was afraid to pray, and afraid not to pray. It seemed that I could not kneel down and pray before Fred. What would he say? Would he not laugh? The fear of Fred made me a coward. Yet I could not lie down on a prayerless bed. If I needed the protection of my heavenly Father at home, how much more abroad. I wished many wishes; that I had slept alone, that Fred would go to sleep, or something else, I hardly knew what. But Fred would not go to sleep.
Perhaps struggles like these take place in the bosom of every one when he leaves home and begins to act for himself, and on his decision may depend his character for time, and for eternity. With me the struggle was severe. At last, to Fred's cry, "Come, boy, come to bed," I mustered courage to say, "I will kneel down and pray first; that is always my custom." "Pray?" said Fred, turning himself over on his pillow, and saying no more. His propriety of conduct made me ashamed. Here I had long been afraid of him, and yet when he knew my wishes he was quiet and left me to myself. How thankful I was that duty and conscience triumphed.
That settled my future course. It gave me strength for time to come. I believe that the decision of the "Christian boy," by God's blessing, made me the Christian man; for in after years I was thrown amid trials and temptations which must have drawn me away from God and from virtue, had it not been for my settled habit of secret prayer.
Let every boy who has pious parents, read and think about this. You have been trained in Christian duties and principles. When you go from home do not leave them behind you. Carry them with you and stand by them, and then in weakness and temptation, by God's help, they will stand by you. Take a manly stand on the side of your God and Saviour, of your father's God. It is by abandoning their Christian birthright that so many boys go astray, and grow up to be young men dishonoring parents, without hope and without God in the world.
Yes, we are boys, always playing with tongue or with pen, And I sometimes have asked, shall we ever be men? Will we always be youthful, and laughing and gay, Till the last dear companions drop smiling away? Then here's to our boyhood, its gold and its gray, The stars of its winter, the dews of its May. And when we have done with our life-lasting toys, Dear Father, take care of thy children, the boys.
--Oliver Wendell Holmes.

SUSIE'S PRAYER
It was a half-holiday. The children were gathered on the green and a right merry time they were having.
"Come, girls and boys," called out Ned Graham, "let's play hunt the squirrel."
All assented eagerly, and a large circle was formed with Ned Graham for leader, because he was the largest.
"Come, Susie," said one of the boys, to a little girl who stood on one side, and seemed to shrink from joining them.
"Oh, never mind her!" said Ned, with a little toss of his head, "she's nobody, anyhow. Her father drinks."
A quick flush crept over the child's pale face as she heard the cruel, thoughtless words.
She was very sensitive, and the arrow had touched her heart in its tenderest place.
Her father was a drunkard, she knew, but to be taunted with it before so many was more than she could bear; and with great sobs heaving from her bosom, and hot tears filling her eyes, she turned and ran away from the playground.
Her mother was sitting by the window when she reached home, and the tearful face of the little girl told that something had happened to disturb her.
"What is the matter, Susie?" she asked, kindly.
"Oh mother," Susie said, with the tears dropping down her cheeks, as she hid her face in her mother's lap, "Ned Graham said such a cruel thing about me," and here the sobs choked her voice so that she could hardly speak; "He said that I wasn't anybody, and that father drinks."
"My poor little girl," Mrs. Ellet said, very sadly. There were tears in her eyes, too.
Such taunts as this were nothing new.
"Oh, mother," Susie said, as she lifted her face, wet with tears, from her mother's lap, "I can't bear