CHAPTER I.

'Thou shalt have no other gods before me.'

'Mother,' said little Effie Maurice, on a Sabbath evening in winter, 'Mr L—— said to-day that we are all in danger of breaking the first commandment,—do you think we are?'

'Did not Mr L. give you his reasons for thinking so?'

'Yes, mother.'

'Didn't you think he gave good reasons?'

'I suppose he did, but I could not understand all he said, for he preached to men and women. Perhaps he thought children were in no danger of breaking it.'

[Pg 6]

'Well, bring your Bible—'

'O mother, I can say all the commandments, every word. The first is, "Thou shalt have no other gods before me." I thought this was for the Burmans and Chinese, and all those who worship idols where the missionaries go.'

'The poor heathen are not the only idolaters in the world, my child; we have many of them in our own Christian land.'

'What! here, mother? Do people worship idols in this country?'

'Yes, my dear, I fear we do.'

'We do, mother? You don't mean to say that you, and papa, and Deacon Evarts, and all such good people, worship idols?'

'Do you suppose, Effie, that all the idols or false gods in the world are made of wood and stone?'

'Oh no, mother, I read in my Sunday-school book of people's worshipping animals, and plants, and the sun, and moon, and a great many of the stars.'

'And gold and silver, and men, women and children, did you not?'

'Yes mother.'

'Well, if a man loves gold or silver better [Pg 7] than he loves God, does it make any difference whether he has it made into an image to pray to, or whether he lays it away in the shape of silver dollars and gold eagles?'

Effie sat for a few moments in thought, and then suddenly looking up, replied,—'Men don't worship dollars and eagles.'

'Are you sure?' inquired Mrs Maurice.

'I never heard of any one who did.'

'You mean you never heard of one who prayed to them; but there are a great many people who prefer money to anything else, and who honour a fine house, fine furniture, and fine dress, more than the meek and quiet spirit which God approves.'

'And then money is the god of such people, I suppose, and they are the ones that break the first commandment?'

'Not the only ones, my dear; there are a great many earthly gods, and they are continually leading us away from the God of heaven. Whatever we love better than Him, becomes our God, for to that we yield our heart-worship.'

'I never thought of that before, mother. Yesterday, Jane Wiston told me that her mother didn't visit Mrs Aimes because she [Pg 8]was poor; and when I told her that you said Mrs Aimes was very pious, she said it did not make any difference, ladies never visited there. Is Mrs Wiston's god money?'

'If Mrs Wiston, or any other person, honours wealth more than humble, unaffected piety, she disobeys the first commandment. But in judging of others, my dear, always remember that you cannot see the heart, and so, however bad the appearance may be, you have a right to put the best possible construction on every action.'

'How can I believe that Mrs Wiston's heart is any better than her actions, mother?'

'In the first place, Jane might have been mistaken, and money may have nothing to do with her mother's visits; and if she is really correct, Mrs Wiston may never have considered this properly, and so at least she deserves charity. I desire you to think a great deal on this subject, and when you understand it better, we will talk more about it.'

'I think I understand it now, mother. Every thing we love better than the God of heaven becomes our god, and if we don't bow down to pray to it, we give it our heart-worship, as you said, and that is quite as [Pg 9]wicked. But after all, mother, I don't think there is any danger of my breaking the first commandment.'

'Do you remember the text Harry repeated at the table this morning? "Let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed lest he fall."'

Effie looked very thoughtful for a moment, and then laying her face in her mother's lap, she said: 'It is not because I am so good that I think so, mother; I know I am very wicked, but I am sure that I love my heavenly Father better than any thing else.'

'I am glad to believe you do,' said Mrs Maurice, drawing the child nearer to her and kissing her cheek. 'I am persuaded that calmly and deliberately you would not prefer the world to Him. But perpetual distrust of self, with constant trust in God, is your only ground of safety. Those who do not fall, may for a moment slip, and you with all the rest of us must watch and pray.'

[Pg 10]

CHAPTER II.

PLANS PROPOSED.

The conversation that Effie Maurice had had with her mother made a very deep impression on her mind; but still, with all the confidence of one who has had but few trials, she was grieved that any one should suppose she could for a moment forget her heavenly Father, or prefer any thing to His glory and honour. She repeated what her mother had said to her brother Harry, and he increased her self-confidence by recalling a great many little sacrifices she had made, which he was quite sure other young persons would not do.

'And now, Effie,' said the kind-hearted brother, 'we will talk no more about this, for it makes you very sober. Remember that to-morrow is New Year's day, and we've got the money to spend that Aunt Norton sent us, so we must be out early, or all the prettiest things will be sold. I went by Mr T.'s shop to-night, and it was all lighted up so that I could see great sticks of candy, almost as big round as [Pg 11]my wrist, and jars of sweetmeats, and there was a rocking horse all saddled and bridled, and the neatest little whip you ever did see, and such a little rifle—but I forgot, girls don't mind those things; let me think—I dare say there were dolls, though I didn't look for them, and then such a pretty little rocking-chair all cushioned with purple silk, just about big enough for dolly, and heaps of other nice things—so we must be out early, Effie.'

'Harry—'

'What is it, Effie?'

'I was thinking—'

'What about? Do you want something I haven't mentioned? I dare say it is there.'

'No, I was thinking—I—I believe I will give my money to the missionaries.'

'Now, Effie!'

'Then I shan't make a god of it.'

'But Aunt Norton gave you this to buy some pretty things for yourself.'

'I know it, but—'

'And you have given ever so much to the missionaries.'

'Well, Harry, I don't know that I need any new toys.'

'When you see Mr T.'s shop—'

[Pg 12]'I don't want to see Mr T.'s shop, that would be going in the way of temptation.'

Harry was silent a few moments,—he was two years older than Effie, and although sometimes dazzled by appearances, as in the case of the attractive toy shop, when he waited to think, his judgment was usually very good for one so young. At last he looked up with a smile, 'I've thought it out, Effie, we don't need any new toys; we might buy books for our little library, but father has promised us two or three more soon. Then our subscriptions to the Missionary Society, and the Bible Society, and the Colporteur Society, are paid (to be sure it wouldn't hurt us to give a little more), but I have just thought what to do with this money (that is, yours and mine together, you know), which I think is better than all the rest.'

'What is it?'

'We'll make a New Year's present of it.'

'To whom?'

'Can't you think?'

'To father, or mother?'

'No, I should love to buy them something, but they would rather not.'

'To old Phillis, then?'

[Pg 13]

'Old Phillis!—it would be a good notion to buy her a gown, wouldn't it, but I was thinking of John Frink.'

'You didn't mean to give it to him, I hope, such an idle, good-for-nothing boy as he is?'

'He isn't idle and good-for-nothing now, Effie. Since he began to go to the Sunday school he's as different as can be. Now if we could put our money together, and help him to go to school this winter (he can't even read the Bible, Effie,) I think it would do more good than anything else in the world.'

'Perhaps it would, but I never liked John Frink very well. He will learn to read the Bible at the Sunday school, and if he did know any more, I'm not sure he'd make a good use of it.'

'Perhaps he wouldn't, but we could hope, Effie, and pray, and then we should have the pleasure of knowing that our duty was done, as Mr L. said the other day. If John Frink should become reformed, only think of how much good he might do in that wicked family, and among the wicked boys here in the city, and then when he gets to be a man—'

'But if he isn't reformed, Harry?'

[Pg 14]

'That is just what Mr S. said to father, the other day, when he asked him for money to buy tracts for boatmen on the canal—"If they don't read them," said he.

'Father told him that if we did our duty faithfully, it was all that is required of us, and we must leave the results in the hands of God. Now I think just so of John Frink, only that I can't help believing that he will reform. The Bible says, "In the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thine hand: for thou knowest not whether shall prosper, either this or that, or whether they both shall be alike good." Now, maybe, all the money you have given this year will do good, but perhaps this to John Frink most of all.'

'I believe you are right, Harry,' said Effie, 'but you will give me to-night to think about it.'

'Oh yes, to be sure, you could not give the money, with your whole heart, unless you believed it was to do good, and so you may think just as long as you please. Now your kiss, Effie, for I must go to bed. We will be up early, if we don't go to Mr T.'s shop.'

[Pg 15]

CHAPTER III.

NEW YEAR'S DAY.

Harry Maurice was out 'bright and early,' wishing everybody a 'Happy New Year,' and making them happy at least for the moment, by the expression of his ruddy, laughing face. We love to see in children cheerfulness and contentment. Harry's head was full of plans for doing good, and though more than half of them were visionary, they seemed realities then, and so being in good humour with himself, he could not fail of being so with everybody else. Effie refused to go with him to Mrs Frink's, for she had her own little gifts to dispense, but she consented to take a walk with him in the afternoon, and even to call at Mr T.'s shop, for she concluded there could be no danger in looking at the toys after they had disposed of their money.

Harry's account of his reception at Mrs Frink's was anything but satisfactory to Effie, for although he evidently endeavoured to make the best of it, he said not a single word of John's gratitude. 'I am afraid, Effie,' he [Pg 16]rather mischievously whispered, 'if you had gone with me to Mrs Frink's you would have thought dirt was her god, for I believe she loves it better than anything else.'

'O Harry, I am sure it is wicked to make fun—'

'I didn't mean to make fun, Effie, but I'm sure I couldn't help thinking of the old man in Pilgrim's Progress with the muck rake, refusing the crown, all the time I was there.'

'Father told me that the man with the muck rake, meant the miser.'

'Well, I suppose it does, but I should think it might mean any body that is not a Christian, for such people, you know, are rejecting a heavenly crown for worldly things, which are in reality worth about as much as the trash the old man is raking together in the picture.' Effie stared at her brother in complete astonishment, for she could not but wonder how so small a head could contain such a wondrous amount of knowledge. Harry endured a stare for a moment with considerable dignity, but he was naturally a modest lad, and finally added, 'That is pretty nearly the substance of what Frank Ingham told me about it—I can't remember the words quite.'

[Pg 17]

After dinner was over, and Harry and Effie had distributed the remnants of it among several poor families that lived on an adjoining street, they set out on their walk. The day was extremely cold, but clear and still, and altogether as beautiful as any day in the whole year. Effie in cloak, hood, and muff, seemed the very picture of comfort as she walked along beside her brother in his equally warm attire, towards Mr T.'s shop.

'Are you cold? What makes you shiver so?' inquired Harry. Effie did not answer, but she drew her hand from her muff and pointed with her gloved finger to a little girl who stood a few yards from her, stamping her feet, and clapping her red bare hands, and then curling them under her arms as if to gain a little warmth from thence. 'Poor thing!' said Harry, 'I should think she would freeze, with nothing but that old rag of a handkerchief about her shoulders, and that torn muslin bonnet. I don't wonder you shivered, Effie, it makes me cold to look at her.'

'Let us see if she wants anything,' said Effie.

By this time the attention of the little girl was attracted by the children's conversation [Pg 18]and glances, and she came running towards them, crying at every step, 'Give me a sixpence, please?'

'We have no money, not even a penny,' said Harry, 'are you very hungry?' The girl began to tell how long it was since she had had anything to eat, but she talked so hurriedly, and used so many queer words, that the two children found it very difficult to understand her.

'She is in want, no doubt,' whispered Harry to his sister, 'but father would say, it was best to give her food and clothing, not money.'

'I wish I had a sixpence, though,' said Effie.

The wealthy and the gay, the poor and the apparently miserable, went pouring by in crowds, and some did not hear the beggar-child's plea, others that heard did not heed it, while many paused from idle curiosity to gaze at her, and a few flung her a penny, and passed on. Harry and Effie too went on, frequently looking back and forming little plans for the good of the child, until their attention was attracted by other objects of compassion or admiration. Sleighs were continually [Pg 19]dashing past them, drawn by beautiful horses, and filled with the forms of the young, the gay, and the happy. Old men, bowed down by the weight of years, hobbled along on the pavements, their thin blue lips distorted by a smile—a smile of welcome to the year that, perhaps, before its departure, would see them laid in the grave—and busy tradesmen, with faces strongly marked by care, or avarice, or anxiety, jostled by them; ladies too, in gay hats and large rich shawls, or the more comfort-seeking in cloaks and muffs; and poor women, with their tattered

clothing drawn closely around their shrinking forms, were hurrying forward apparently with the same intent. Every variety of the human species seemed crowded on those narrow pavements.

Harry and Effie were only a few rods from Mr T.'s door, when Mr Maurice overtook them, on his way to some other part of the city. He smiled, as he always did, on his children, then putting a few pence into Effie's hand, whispered something about 'temptation money,' and passed on.

'I shan't be tempted, though,' said the child, holding the coin before her brother's eyes.

[Pg 20]

'No, Effie,' replied the boy, 'it isn't wrong to spend this money for yourself, so you can't be tempted to do wrong with it. This is every body's day for pleasure, and you ought to enjoy it.'

'I have enjoyed it,' said Effie, looking upon her brother smilingly, 'and I guess somebody else has helped me.'

'I guess so, too,' was the reply, 'I think we have been a great deal happier than if we had come here in the morning.'

Children though they were, they were demonstrating the words of the Lord Jesus, 'It is more blessed to give than to receive.'

Mr T.'s shop was crowded to overflowing with children, a few grown people intermingling: and every one, from the errand boy, that, with his hard-earned pittance in his hand, was estimating the amount of good things it would purchase, to the child of the wealthy merchant, murmuring because the waxen doll she contemplated adding to her store, was not in every respect formed to suit her difficult taste, seemed intent on pleasure.

Harry and Effie were as much pleased as any one, and some, who had seen with what readiness they had parted with their money in [Pg 21]the morning, would have wondered at their taste for toys; but these children had one talent which a great many grown people as well as children would do well to imitate. It was not absolutely necessary that they should possess a thing in order to enjoy it. They had been taught when very young, to distinguish beautiful things from those that were merely novel, and although they liked (as I believe is natural) to call things their own, they could be pleased with what was calculated to produce pleasure, without envying its possessor, just as you would look upon a beautiful sunset, or a fine landscape, without thinking of becoming its owner. But Effie had a little money to spend, and this occasioned a great deal of deliberation, for to tell the truth, the little girl was so pleased with her day's work, that she was still determined on self-denial.

'Take care,' whispered Harry, as he watched her examining some trifles which he was pretty sure were intended for old Phillis, 'take care, Effie, that you don't get proud of your generosity—there is more than one way to make self a god.'

Effie blushed, and calling for some nuts, [Pg 22]threw her money on the counter, saying to her brother, 'We can share them together in the evening.' The nuts were scarce stowed away in reticule and muff, when a poorly-clad young woman, very pale and thin, bearing in her arms an infant still paler, pressed her way through the throng, and gained the counter. She inquired for cough lozenges. It was a long time before she could be attended, but she stood very patiently, though seemingly scarce able to support the weight of her own person. Harry involuntarily glanced around the shop for a chair, and as he did so, his eye rested on a bright-faced little girl, close beside his sister, who was choosing and rejecting a great many pretty toys, and now and then casting a glance at the well-filled purse in her hand, as if to ascertain after each purchase the state of her finances.

'Beautiful!' she exclaimed, her eye glistening with pleasure at the sight of the purple cushioned rocking-chair of which Harry had told his sister.

'Is that all?' inquired a sad, low voice, and again Harry's eye turned to the poor woman who was purchasing the lozenges.

'Yes, ma'am, to be sure,' replied the pert [Pg 23]shopkeeper, 'and a pretty large all too—what could you expect for a penny?'

The poor woman made no reply, but the hurried glance she gave her infant with its accompanying sigh, seemed to say, 'God help my poor baby then!'

Harry involuntarily thrust his hand into his pocket, but he quickly withdrew it, and glanced at the little girl who was purchasing the rocking-chair.

'This chair has cost so much,' she said, addressing the shopkeeper, 'that I have only a shilling left.'

'Oh, then,' whispered Effie, emboldened by her brother's looks of anxiety, 'give it to the poor woman with the sick baby.'

The little girl stared at her somewhat rudely, then turning to the woman, exclaimed, 'What! that one, with the horrid looking bonnet!' and, shaking her head, laughingly replied, 'Thank you, Miss, I have a better use for it.'

Effie was really distressed. The poor woman looked so pale and sad, and yet so meek and uncomplaining withal, that both brother and sister found themselves strangely interested.

[Pg 24]

'O how I wish we could do something for her,' whispered Harry. 'Will you please exchange my nuts for cough lozenges?' inquired Effie in a faltering voice, of the shopkeeper.

'Rather too busy, Miss.'

'But it will oblige me very much.'

'Happy to oblige you on any other day, Miss, but we really have no time for exchanges now.' By this time the poor woman had gained the door, and Effie, looking round, observed that her brother too was missing.