Ih hi es' ..corial f
4 SoOA ta SC~OOLiSY 1'
1:, BRUNlSWICK ROAD, GLOUCESTER.
4 .-- .... Z ..
For Regalar Attendanue and Good
Conddac during te Year.
.1'--.v. --..-i -
SIThe Baldwin Library
1 B1 Florida
.HULLOT TIMi~ SHOUTEfl THK POUICEMAN,
''^* i* -i
TIM AND HIS FRIENDS.
THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY:
56, PATERNOSTER ROW; 65, ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD; AND
( ~ IfI
-i -.- =il^ %.r
I. A SNOWY MORNING .
II. TIM FINDS A FRIEND IN GRANNIE II
III. LITTLE SUSIE 17
IV. MRS. MUSGRAVE'S TROUBLE 23
V. TIM'S FATHER. 30
VI. His FRIEND THE POLICEMAN 37
VII. TIM'S ACCIDENT 42
VIII. ESTHER MAY 48
IX. THE RESTORED CHILD 6
X. THE CLOUD 67
XI. SUNSHINE 73
TIM AND HIS FR-IENDB
IT was snowing, snowing everywhere, the
flakes coming noiselessly down, covering the
pavement and roadway with a pure sheet of
white, beautiful to look at, and. with the cold east
wind getting crisp under foot. The warmly--
dressed pedestrians seemed to enjoy it much,
and hurried along with the vision of a carpeted
room and cosy fire looming in the distance.
On a doorstep, thinly clad, with shoes through
which peeped some very blue-looking toes, and
bare elbows appearing through his coat sleeves,
crouched a small fair-haired boy of some seven
summers, fast asleep.
"Hullo, Tim! I told ye not to do that again;
I shall have to put ye in the lock-up some day,"
6 Tim and his Friends.
shouted a good-humoured-looking policeman in
the boy's ear, shaking him by the arm not un-
The boy half-raised himself, but the cold had
made him stiff; he rubbed his blue eyes,-you
could see how very blue they were when he
gazed up into the policeman's friendly face,-
and a smile came, brightening the otherwise
"Oh! Mister Hallett, I was tired, and went
off to sleep."
"Had any breakfast yet, Timmy ? You look
"No, sir, I ain't; I am hungry, and I ain't got
no matches to sell. Father didn't give me no
money 'fore he went out," said the little fellow,
in that plaintive tone that one so often hears
from the patient poor.
How's that, little 'un; I'm afraid he got
drunk last night, eh ? "
He came home very bad ; and I was fright-
ened, and went up and lay outside grannie's door
till daylight; then I crept out here."
Buy yourself a penn'orth of bread with this,
Timmy," and the man put a copper into his
hand. "Here's another penny, to get a cup of
coffee at the stall round the corner. Now be off."
A Snowy Morning. 7
The boy's eyes glistened. "Thank'ee, sir,"
and he ran away as quickly as his half-frozen
limbs would let him.
The policeman watched him for a minute.
"Poor little chap! he said aloud; his is a
sad lot. No mother, and a father not worth the
name; he'd mayhap better be without him. If
it weren't for my own five children, I'd like to
take him. There's the making of an honest lad
in him, there is! owing, I reckon, to his poor
mother's care and prayers,--please God he don't
get spoiled among 'em: they're a bad lot here-
abouts; and the man moved on with a grave
look on his face.
Little Tim could remember, young as he was,
much happier times than now. He remembered
his gentle delicate mother, a pretty cottage
home in a pleasant country village, where he
could play in the meadows, and their own garden
filled with fragrant, old-fashioned flowers. He
was about five years old when she died, but he
had not forgotten what she taught him. He
always thought of her as looking down upon
him from the sky.; and used to say so patheti-
cally when tempted by those around him to do
anything wrong, But mammy wouldn't like it.
My mammy sees little Tim, she said she'd watch
8 Tim and his Friends.
me; and I wouldn't like her to cry. She would
if I stole, or used bad words." The shadow of
his mother's spirit seemed to keep the little
fellow amid much evil.
Soon after her death, his father took to drink-
ing, lost his situation, gave up his pretty cottage
and his country home, and came to London to
seek employment. He went on from bad to
worse, until, reduced to the lowest degradation,
he cared only for drink. Little Tim was like
some fair spirit amid his wretched surroundings;
fenced round by his mother's prayers, nothing
evil seemed to touch him. Even his miserable
father at times seemed awed by the innocent
upturned look. The sweet blue eyes reminded
him of his wife, the wife he had once so dearly
loved, and who, while she lived, had been his
guardian angel, keeping him with her gentle,
quiet, helpful ways, and consistent walk (bearing
testimony in her life and conversation that she
loved her Saviour), from his besetting sin, drink.
But when she died, he drank, he said, to drown
his grief. And it grew upon him rapidly, until
he was lost to every good and generous impulse,
and treated his poor little boy so badly, that
even the neighbours, who were not very par-
ticular either in their conduct or language,
A Snowy Morning. 9
cried out against him. Little Tim spoke to
their hearts with his sweet patient ways, his
willing feet swift to do anyone a kindness.
John Grant lived in one of those dwellings
that are let out in separate rooms; and at the
top, in a small back garret, lived an old woman,
who subsisted on pay from the parish, and a
small sum allowed her by a friend. Very meagre
was the fare she could afford; but she was a
bright happy woman, never losing her faith in
her Lord. Sunny and sweet was her wrinkled
face at all times, shining with a light that came
not from earthly things, but seeing Him who
was invisible: however dark her path might be,
His hand guided her, and that was enough. He
kept her in perfect peace, because her mind was
stayed on Him.
Tim used to call her Grannie,-indeed all the
people in the court gave her that name. Any
kindly deed wanting to be done, a child minded
or nursed, as far as her strength permitted,
Grannie came to the fore. She had often pro-
tected Tim from his father's anger; he would fly
up to her room beyond the reach of the blows
that would be showered upon him when John
Grant had had too much to drink, and Grannie
would then comfort him and talk to him of Jesus
IO Tim and his Frienas.
and the beautiful home where his mother had
gone, and often share her scanty meals with
him ; and he, in return, would run her errands,
and do little things to prevent her moving, for
Grannie was lame, very lame sometimes. And
Tim loved her much: he would sit at her feet
and drink in the words of life that flowed from
the old woman's lips, in simple childlike language,
so simple, that Tim, young as he was, could
take it all in and understand it. She used to
tell him that his little pattering feet was music
in her ears.
t ";" A ^-
J 7. P::-__' _. "
-' L -' f "- "
I .-. ,, i-
Tim finds a if'!ll in -rannie.
W E left little Tim running off to spend
the pence that the kind policeman
had given him. He went to the stall and got
some coffee, and then to the baker's for some
bread-it was a long time since he had had such
a good warm breakfast. He was often very
hungry, poor little fellow I and his father, after
his drunken bouts, generally woke up cross.
Sometimes the wretched man gave him some
matches to sell, thinking his pretty innocent
face and golden hair would appeal to the pity
of passers-by ; and the little fellow was so loyal
hearted that he would give whatever he made
up to his father, seldom buying more than a
pennyworth of bread during the day, and not
even that if he had any food given him. If Tim
made much, he would be kind to the boy, and
give him something to eat; but if he had what
12 Tim and his Friends.
he called "a bad day," he would more likely
than not beat the child, and send him supperless
Tim carefully wrapped up a part of his bread
in some paper, and carried it up to Grannie's
room; he was always pleased to save her part
of anything that he had given him.
"Look, Grannie dear, what I've got; Mistet
Hallett gave me two pennies, and I bought some
coffee and some bread. I wish I could have
saved you some coffee, it was so hot and nice."
"Lor' bless you, honey," said the old woman,
her face lighting up with pleasure; "eat the
bread yourself, my pretty; you want it, sure."
No, Grannie dear, I kept it for you ;" and
his blue eyes filled with tears, as he looked
pleadingly up in her face.
"Bless you, my dearie," exclaimed the old
woman, putting her hands on the child's head,
"bless you, I'll take it; and a prayer ascended
from that lonely woman's heart that this little
one might be blessed indeed, and fed with
heavenly food. "Now tell me where you've
been, and how's father this morning ?"
"I don't know; he was bad last night," he
whispered, "so bad, I was frightened, and lay
outside your door all night."
liz finds a Friend in Grannie. 13
"Timmy dear, you mustn't do that again;
you'll catch cold, dearie. Come to Grannie
another time, she'll take care of you."
It was late, Grannie, I was feared you might
be asleep; and I asked God to take care of me,
and He did. I said the nice prayer you taught
me, Grannie!" and the little fellow raised his
sweet eyes to her face. "Will He make father
I think He will, honey, in time. We must
be patient, and bide His time. He sometimes
makes us wait a little. We mustn't forget to
ask; He has promised, dearie, and He always
keeps His word."
"Ask Him to make father good to me, and
not beat me, please, Grannie."
The old body breathed a silent prayer over
him ; and then he ran downstairs, pausing trem-
blingly outside the miserable room that he called
home. He opened the door slowly and passed
in. John Grant sat crouching over a small fire,
looking haggard from his last night's dissipation.
He did not perceive the boy just at first, but
hearing a slight noise, he turned suddenly.
" Hullo, you there he shouted harshly, and a
frown gathered on his face (at which Tim
trembled), Where have you been ? Why didn't
14 Tim and his Friends.
you come and light my fire, you young
I-I have been up to Grannie," hesitatingly
spoke Tim, while he visibly shook, which seemed
to increase the wrath of the man. He rose, and
struck him a blow with such force as to send the
child reeling to the other side of the room.
"There, stop that howling (for Tim was quietly
i..-i ,:-, and fetch me some beer." He seized a
broken jug and thrust it into the child's hand,
with some pence. "And be quick about it, or it
will be worse for you."
Tim silently obeyed, and going down the
rickety stairs, with eyes dim with tears, he
almost fell over a dark-eyed little girl that was
sitting on the lowest step.
Oh, Susie dear, did I hurt you ? anxiously
spoke the boy, and stooping down, he kissed her
"No, Timmy, you didn't hurt Susie; but
what you crying for, did he beat you?" she
whispered under her breath, her little pale face
becoming paler, and tears gathering in her eyes.
He didn't hurt so much, Susie ; but I mustn't
stay--he sent me for beer."
"I'll come with you," said the tiny child,
jumping up and taking his hand.
Tim finds a Friend in Grannie. 15
No, dear, you might get hurt down at the
corner; there's lots of men there. Stay here
and look for me;" and the little fellow ran off
He soon returned, carrying the jug carefully,
and passing Susie with, I won't be long,"
walked upstairs to his father's room.
"A tidy time you've been, I'll teach you to
stay about when I send you for anything," and
he aimed a blow at Tim, which, however, he
contrived to evade, and the man contented him-
self with drinking deeply out of the jug. He
took a few coins out of his pocket, and threw
them to Tim, saying, There, go and buy some
matches and mind you bring home some
money to-night,.or you'll get something."
Tim picked up the money, and slipped out of
the room without a word. Running down, he
saw Susie still on the stairs.
"Where's mammy, Susie? "
"In there," said the little creature, pointing to
a door on the ground floor. Tim knocked,-a
rather loud voice bade him enter. He opened
the door, and stood just inside, saying timidly,
" Please, ma'am, father's give me some money for
matches. Will you help me again?"
"Oh, so yer father's on the drink again, is he ?"
16 Tim and his Friends.
exclaimed the woman, who, though she spoke
rather loudly, and seemed hard to others, was
kind to little Tim, and never got drunk. She
obtained her living by washing and caring;
and though her neighbours were kept in order
by her tongue, if they attempted to interfere
with Susie, they could not say worse of her than
calling her "a vixen." But, if left alone, she
minded her own business, and took good care
of her little girl.
"Please, ma'am, will you help me again ? You
said you would," said Tim, waxing bolder.
Help ye, lad; of course I will," said the
woman, kindly. "How many matches will ye
have? I've got six penn'orth left from the last
lot I bought ye." The woman good-naturedly
arranged them on an old box cover. If ye sell
'em all ye can pay me. Have a drink of tea,
Timmy;" and the little fellow drank out of an
old cracked cup a curious liquid that you and I,
dear reader, might not have recognized as that
most refreshing beverage.
'r r;' -*- ; '
.its -j ^''^ : i'-* *t
W HEN little Tim started out, Susie ran
after him. Mayn't I go with you a
tiny way ?" lisped the pretty child, raising her
dark eyes pleadingly. She was a perfect little
fairy, small limbed and graceful, not resembling
in the least the woman she called mammy. She
was an imperious little creature, and made Tim
Yes, dear, if mammy will let you. Ask her,
"No," said the little woman, petulantly, "I
"Well, I will," said Tim, and ran back.
When the little fellow had gained permission,
he returned to her side, for Susie had not moved
from where he left her. She said, "Why did
you ask, Timmy Mammy don't mind."
"But, Susie, we ought to ask mammy always,
and do as she says."
18 Tim and his Friends.
But I want to do as I likes," the child replied,
with a frown on her little brow.
"No, Susie, we mustn't; Grannie says so."
"Shouldn't like Grannie," she said, with a
shake, "nassy ole thing."
You would like her, dear; she's so good,
and gives me bread when I'm very hungry, and
father's got no money," said the loyal little
fellow; "and she tells me all about Jesus, how
He was a little boy once like me, and lived on
earth, only He was always good, and then God
took Him up into heaven. But if we love Him,
and ask Him anything, if it is right, He gives
I'll ask Him to let me go with you all the
way when you sell matches. What shall I
say, Tim ?"
No, dear, don't; mammy wouldn't like it;
and God likes us to do what mammy likes.
Grannie says so."
But I want to," said the little girl, passion-
ately, and she stamped her little feet upon the
Poor Tim did not know how to combat such
a turbulent spirit; but presently he said, putting
his arm round her affectionately, "Don't, .usie
dear, please, don't cry. You shall come and see
Little Susie. 19
Grannie some day, and perhaps I'll find a flower;
if I do, I'll save it for you."
After a time, with much coaxing and many
kisses, she permitted him to dry her tears and
send her back. Then his hard day's work began :
his pretty innocent face attracted much notice.
He generally took the same route, whatever he
had to sell; and some people recognized his
voice, and pitied the poor little boy, so young to
begin life's battle, while their own little ones
were being sheltered and caressed. We little
know what sufferings are patiently endured
among the very poor.
As our little Tim was passing through a
square filled with large houses, the people living
in them being wealthy, a lady standing at the
window of one of them was attracted by his
Herbert, look at this little fellow; that is
the very child I was talking to you about the
other day. Is he not pretty? "
Mr. Musgrave rose from the breakfast-table,
where he had been reading the remainder of his
"Well, my dear; and where is this wonderful
child that has made such an impression on my
wife's fancy ?"
20 Tim and his Friends.
I do not think it is wholly fancy, Herbert
I feel quite drawn to this little boy; and would
like to do him good, if it were in my power."
"Your kind heart is touched by so much
beauty and seeming innocence being exposed to
the buffets of the world, Mary; that is it, you
may depend. This child will pass from your
memory as well as from your sight in due time;
and were you to meet him a few years hence,
when he has been in prison perhaps, or got
debased, you would not know the pretty boy;
for pretty he undoubtedly is."
"No, no, Herbert; I cannot bear to think of
so much innocence and sweetness ever going to
prison. No, surely he will grow up good, purity
seems stamped upon his brow ;" and tears filled
her eyes, those eyes that always had such a
depth of sadness in them, as though she had
tasted deeply of sorrow. Oh," she again ex-
claimed, "how I wish I could help him, for the
sake of----" Here she broke off, and glanced
up at her husband with a pitiful look.
Dear," he said, gently and sadly, "you would
only be most bitterly disappointed if you were
to try and help him upwards. We do not know
ho.v degraded his parents are, if he has any;
and even that innocent look may have been
Little Susie. 21
cultivated for the purpose of drawing pity from
those with whom he comes in contact. You do
not know the world as well as I do, Mary; but
cheer up, I do not like to see a cloud upon my
dear wife's brow."
How can I ever be cheerful more, dear, when
I think-when I think- and she burst into
agonizing sobs. Oh, that my past life could
ever be granted me over again, how differently
would I have acted; and not only I have to
suffer, but you, my dear Herbert: the pain is as
great for you as for me."
Well, dear, I own my pain is great; but you
add to your suffering by such bitter upbraiding.
Do not do so. I think you are mistaken; it
never was my little wife's fault in any way, I
She looked up with a faint smile into his face.
"Will nothing make you think badly of me,
Herbert," she said sadly. "In our early married
life I gave you trouble enough with my temper.
I know God has taken that away ; but there is
a corner in both our hearts that will never be
filled again in this world."
"My dear," he said gravely, "if you really
would like to adopt a child, we might meet with
one of respectable parents, who would be willing
22 Tim and his Friends.
to give it up entirely; but I do not approve of
it, it seems so unnatural to take a child away
from its parents."
"No, Herbert; I have no wish to adopt a
child, I do not think I could deprive a parent of
a child. No, no, the pain I have suffered has
been too great for that, I could not ask such a
thing. But I feel that I really should like to
benefit that boy, not raising him unduly out of
his station, but putting him in the way of earning
his living, and becoming a good respectable
But, my dear, he cannot be old enough to
earn his living yet; nor will he for many years.
School should be the proper place for him for
some time to come."
"Yes, dear; but could we not help him in
some small way? I do not mean take him
entirely. Let me, dear; perhaps it would partly
fill up the gap."
"I should indeed be sorry to deny you any-
thing that would bring you comfort, Mary; and
if you can think of anything that would really
help the lad, without raising hopes of continued
benefits, you have my hearty consent; but more
I cannot say."
-.^ j -g - J y -' ..,,-- *
rs, Mtutsgrawv's Trottble,
L ONG after her husband had left her, Mrs.
Musgrave continued musing over the past,
sadly enough; for she always blamed herself
greatly with reference to something that had
occurred more than five years ago, and which
she now feared would never be set right again
in this world.
Mrs. Musgrave had been the spoilt and only
daughter of rich parents, who had left no wish
ungratified. They loved her, not wisely, but too
well; and she grew up self-willed and tyrannical,
her temper being unchecked. But with all her
faults, she was affectionate and true-hearted.
When she married Mr. Musgrave (a man known
for his integrity and good sense), her friends
hoped she would improve; but her husband
gave way to her pretty imperious ways, and she
remained as great a tyrant as ever.
24 Tim and his Friends.
They lived in a pretty country house, with
rather extensive grounds. It was furnished with
exquisite taste, he wishing to gratify her in all
things pertaining to her home; but when she
took for a maid a person whom he had heard
was of a violent temper and bad disposition, he
tried to get her to see how unwise it was to have
a woman of that description near her. But she
would not be advised even in this; and in a
spirit of contradiction took the girl.
Esther May was a tall fine-looking young
woman. Had she cultivated gentleness, she
would have been good-looking: for a sweet dis-
position makes any one look beautiful. She was
more vindictive than passionate. No real out-
breaks on her part led her mistress to believe
that she bitterly resented what were very in-
judicious remarks. Mrs. Musgrave knew her
family; and when irritable, would taunt the girl
with things that had occurred that were not to
their credit. Esther secretly garnered every taunt
in her heart; and long after the things said had
passed away from her mistress's mind, she brooded
over them, and longed to do something in her
turn to annoy and vex. The opportunity did
not come. I can afford to wait," she used to
mutter; "it will be my turn by-and-by."
Mrs. Mzusgrave's Trouble. 25
How sad a thing it is to indulge in sinful
thoughts and desires. Satan likes to help in
such; and he does not let us forget them. So
her mistress offended the girl again and again,
little thinking what a store of trouble she was
laying up for herself, by her unthinking, yet un-
kind, words and tones to her servant. How
careful we should be not to hurt the feelings of
others, but ever be mindful to heal, not wound.
A kind word or action is never really lost; but
an unkind hasty word or tone rankles long in
Time sped along until they had been married
two years, when a little daughter came,-such a
sweet blossom, the joy of the mother's heart.
Oh, what care and tenderness was lavished upon
the little one; and for some months Mrs. Mus-
grave entirely gave up society for her child's
sake. So guarded was it by its mother's love,
that nothing came near to harm it, until one day
the nurse, a good and faithful girl, was taken ill.
She was nursed with tenderness, for her mistress
had a kind heart, and she was grateful to the
girl for the care she had taken of her baby. But
while she was laid up, Esther begged that she
might have the little one; and Mrs. Musgrave,
really trusting her, consented, while she gave
26 Tim and his Friends.
up much of her own time to the sick nurse girl.
At length she recovered, but not sufficiently to re-
tain her situation, and with much regret she parted
from her little pet, and went home to her mother.
Esther meanwhile had the charge of the baby.
She was called Tiny, on account of being so
small. She asked Mrs. Musgrave if she might
continue to be its nurse. Her mistress consented,
thinking what good care she would take of her
wee blossom, her tiny Ethel.
But Esther's head was full of one idea, how
she could make her mistress suffer for the pain
she had given her. She knew that it had been
given thoughtlessly, not maliciously; but she
hated her all the same. If Esther had only tried
to think of the many kindnesses that she had
received, she would have been softened instead
of hardened. We should always try to cultivate
the sense of goodness, mercy, and love, that
charity that thinketh no evil, so making our lives
beautiful, instead of a misery to ourselves, and a
source of pain and trouble to others.
Scheme after scheme passed through the girl's
brain, was thought over and rejected; but at
last a dreadful idea took possession of her mind,
How true it is that if "we have not God in all
our thoughts," the wicked one, who is always on
Mrs. Musgrave's Trouble. 27
the watch, takes advantage, and then we are lost.
I fear Esther had quite forgotten to ask for God's
guidance. If she had done so, these sinful
thoughts would not have intruded, or she would
have had strength given her to put them away.
But, instead of doing so, she harboured them,
brooded over this thing until it assumed shape
and form. The enormity of the crime she con-
templated frightened her at first, and she shrank
from it as from some deadly thing; but familiarity
reconciled her to it, indeed. At last she planned
it out with a feverishness born only of the intense
hatred she had nursed up for her mistress.
We will not tell in this chapter how she carried
out her design; but one day, when Mrs. Mus-
grave returned from a visit to some friends, she
found that her nurse and child had disappeared.
Esther had gone out to walk as usual, taking
the child with her; and not returning long after
the hour she generally came back, it caused great
uneasiness, and every effort was made to gain
tidings; but no news came,-she had not been
met or noticed either in the village or on the
road. Telegrams were sent to the nearest station,
handbills printed, and rewards offered for any
clue to the mystery.
It was thought that some misfortune had be-
28 Tim and his Friends.
fallen the child, and Esther was afraid to return;
but as the days passed on, and nothing was
heard of them, Mrs. Musgrave broke down under
the strain, and an alarming attack of illness was
the result. And though every tenderness was
lavished upon her, she trembled for weeks upon
the brink of the grave; but at last youth con-
quered, and she rose from her bed a "sadder
but a wiser woman."
There are some of us who have to learn by
bitter experience to conquer ourselves; and God
mercifully leads us in rough and thorny paths,
that eventually we may humbly acknowledge
His will the best. He sometimes "hedges up
our way with thorns," that we may halt in our
career, and turn to Him for help; and this never-
ceasing sorrow was working out a godly repent-
ance. The bereaved mother now felt that all
she could do was to lay her burden at the foot
of the cross, and leave it there. He, who never
tries us beyond what we are able to bear, but
gives a way of escape, gently drew her to Him-
self, and comforted her with His sure words of
promise; so that she put her hand out and clasped
His for guidance in the dark, and seldom now
gave way to unrestrained grief, as she had done
this morning. She prayed for strength that she
Mrs. Musgrave's Trouble. 29
might be enabled to bear her cross without
murmuring; and instead of depressing, try to
strengthen her husband under this severe trial.
And so time fled, leaving her more pitiful and
tender, more mindful of the feelings of others;
but asking humbly to be allowed to see her
child before she died; and, if fallen into bad
hands, to rescue her from harm.
. _I.- ' -
L ITTLE Tim went on his way trying to sell
his matches, until the evening shadows
falling found him a good walk from home, and
nearly all his goods disposed of. He had not
spent anything for food during the day, for a
good-natured servant had asked her mistress
for permission to give him a piece of her pudding,
and the poor little fellow had greatly enjoyed
it, "off a real plate," sitting on the doorstep.
Then he started for home, feeling light at heart.
He always gave his father all the money he
made in this way; and at times he was good
to Tim, and expressed his sorrow for having
treated him badly. But evil companions and
drink had got such a firm hold upon him, that
he found himself unable to shake it off ; though
at times he bitterly repented of the life he was
leading, and made many good resolutions to
Tim's Father. 31
reform, and keep his little boy out of the way of
temptation. He was a gardener by trade ; but
since coming to London had done any odd job
that came in his way. When better thoughts
prevailed, he had a longing for some more re-
spectable employment, so that little Tim might
go to school, and be like other boys. Again
and again he had tried (in his own strength) to
leave off his bad ways; but not asking for God's
help, he failed; and another thing was against
him, he had no one to speak to his character,
and people distrusted him.
Now Tim hurried along as fast as he could,
for he did not like to go up the court when the
men returned from their work, as they and their
wives would ofttimes quarrel, and the bad words
would scare the little fellow. So his poor tired
feet were urged to greater speed ; but he re-
membered that he owed Susan Carter some
money, and before ascending the stairs, he
resolved to pay it. He knocked at the door of
her room, and being told to "Come in," he
"Please, ma'am, here's the money I owe you,"
said Tim, timidly; for he stood somewhat in
awe of this woman, who, although kind to him,
he would sometimes hear scolding the neighbours
32 Tim and his Friends.
so fiercely, that he trembled lest at any time her
wrath might be turned upon him. But Susan
had a very tender spot in her heart for children.
Eh, little Tim, yer late, ain't ye," said Susan,
taking her hands out of the soap-suds, for she
was washing, and wiping them on her apron;
"how did ye get on, little man ?"
I sold nearly all my matches," returned the
little fellow, brightly; "and thank you very
much, ma'am, for helping me. How's Susie ? "
"Susie's a-bed and asleep, little one, where you
ought to be. What a shame'tis" she exclaimed,
wrathfully, to send such a babe out, all weathers,
without any food. Art hungry, Tim ?"
"No, ma'am; a kind girl gave me some
Ah, well, ye can eat a bit o' bread and
butter. There, sit ye down."
Tim sat down, and ate the piece of bread and
butter gratefully, and then asked, "Is father at
Yes, Tim, I heerd him go up an hour ago
an' more, and for a wonder, sober."
Oh, I am glad," joyously exclaimed the boy.
I think I'll go now, ma'am, an' thank you."
He went upstairs with a light step, and en-
tered the miserable room. His father sat by
Tim's Father. 33
the table with his head on his hands, in one of
his fits of remorse.
"Father dear," timidly spoke Tim, "father,
look, I nearly sold all my matches; here's the
money," emptying the contents of his pocket
upon the table.
John pushed away the coins without speaking,
and again buried his face in his hands, the tears
slowly oozing through his fingers.
Tim never could bear to see his father cry.
He went up to him, and throwing his arms
round his neck, sobbed as though his little heart
would break, "Father, dear father, don't cry;
please, don't cry," he sobbed.
The man raised himself, and clasping his son
in his arms, exclaimed passionately, I am a
brute, Tim; your father's a brute to you. Oh,
if I only could do better; but I am weak and
wicked, I am, and that's the truth on't."
"Don't say that, father. Grannie says when
we want something very badly, if we ask God
for it, He'd give it us, if it's good ; and it's good
to love Him, isn't it ?"
"You may ask, lad; maybe He'd hear you;
He'd have nothing to say to such as I am."
"Grannie says anybody may come, even if
he's ever so bad, and ask Him anything. She
34 Tim anmd his Friends.
told me a tale out of the Bible one day, about a
thief that Jesus took up to heaven with Hiim,
because he asked Him; and Grannie says He
"Ah, your dear mother used to talk like that.
How much better it would have been for me if
I had heeded her counsels. How sorry she
would be if she could see me now. I shouldn't
have sunk so low if she had been alive."
"But, father dear, I think mammy can
I hope not, lad, for I've grieved her a long
time now. But I'll have a talk with Grannie:
she'll maybe help me to turn over a new leaf.
I'm afraid I'm weak and foolish, as well as
wicked, but I'll ask God to help me; and you
pray too, Tim, pray that your poor father may
be fit to meet mammy in the better world when
his time comes. Ask Grannie if she'll let me
come and see her."
John after this had several talks with the old
woman. She pointed out the only way by
which he would be enabled ever to do better,
and she encouraged and strengthened him in
many ways. He had cause to bless her in
future days, for leading him to a sin-forgiving
Tim's Father. 35
John would try to keep Tim indoors now, and
not expose him to the dangers of selling things
in the street. But odd jobs were hard to pick
up, and sometimes they were very short of
food; and God tries His children at times to see
whether they are really His: trials work for
good to those who love Jesus.
One day, when Tim was in Grannie's room,
he expressed a wish to be able to read like her.
"I can't read well, Timmy dear; but I'll
teach you all I know," said the kind old woman;
"reach me down the big Bible. You can begin
to learn your letters at once."
"Thank, you, Grannie dear, I am glad. I
will make haste and learn."
"Well, honey, and then you can read a
chapter in the Bible to your father, and perhaps
a story book at times."
"May Susie come up and learn her letters,
it would be so nice?" asked Tim. And the
kindly old soul, thinking it would please the
children, gave permission; and the little ones
used to go up into her room most days after-
wards. Tim soon mastered the alphabet, and
some small words. He was very persevering,
and got on rapidly.
Oh, how dearly Grannie loved to work for
36 Tim and his Friends.
the Master, the Master who had "done great
things for her, whereof she was glad."
Susan Carter was grateful for the notice and
help given to her little girl, and would come up
and offer to clean Grannie's room, when the
rheumatism was very bad ; and the old woman
never lost an opportunity to speak for Jesus.
Susan began to think there must be something
in religion if it could make an old woman who
was very poor, and often suffered much pain, so
cheerful and bright and happy. She pondered
these things in her heart, and they made her
more gentle and kind.
The neighbours wondered what had come over
Susan that she was so soft spoken. But the
"peace that passeth all understanding" was
working within her, the Holy Spirit striving
with her spirit; and she too had cause to bless
4is fri'n1d thi teliceman.
T HE next morning Tim met Hallett the
policeman. Hullo where have you been
all this time ?" he asked; "not seen even yer
shadow. Anything the matter, eh? You look
like a ghost."
"No, Mister Hallett, nothing's the matter;
father's not got much work, but he's so kind to
"Eh I but that means short commons; don't
it, little man?"
"We don't get very much to eat, sometimes,
sir; but I run errands for old Job West, the
boot-maker,-he's hurt his foot, you know, and
"You're young to turn out for a living; but
it's better than selling matches anyhow."
"Father is so kind now; he don't like me
38 Tim and his Friends.
Oh, turned over a new leaf, eh ? Well, that's
good news. I hope 'twill last. But, little Tim,
I've been looking out for you; there's a nice
evening school begun near by. Would ye like
to go, lad ? "
"I should, Mister Hallett. Grannie has teached
me some. I know my letters and little words."
Well, go in and win, little Tim. I shall see
you a great scholar some day, you be so earnest
about it. Three times a week, and only tup-
pence to pay But seeing Tim's countenance
fall, he hastened to add, But I'll see to that;
I'll pay the piper," meaning the schooling.
"Thank you, sir. Did God tell you to do it,
'cause I told Him I wanted to learn ?"
"Maybe He did, my boy, maybe He did," said
the man, thoughtfully. "I'd like to do more, but
I've five children of my own. I'll gladly pay for
the schooling, for I know the good of education.
My boy can read the Bible quite nice. He's not
much older than you, Tim; but then he's had
chances that you haven't. You'll soon catch
him up now, never fear."
When may I go? said Tim, eagerly; but
I must ask father first," added the dutiful little
"You can go on Monday," answered Hallett,
Tim's Friend the Pozicemazi. 39
" I'll meet and take ye, it's on my beat this
week. Now run away and tell yer father. Stop !
here's a penny for you. Good-bye, Tim."
Good-bye, sir, and thank you."
John Grant was glad for his boy to get some
knowledge, therefore gave his consent; and the
following Monday saw Tim, as clean and tidy
as Grannie could make him, waiting for the
policeman at least half an hour before the time
"Well, Tim, ready? How spruce we are
this evening. Is this Grannie's doings ? "
"Yes, sir; she washed me, and last night
she mended my clothes. She's so good to me;
God tells her, I think."
How's father been lately, Timmy ?
Better, mister; but he ain't got much work
to do yet."
"I think I could help him to a job if he'd
keep steady. There's a friend o' mine, who's a
gardener in Murray Square; and he's had a bad
bout of rheumatics ; so he wants a man to help ;
but if your father goes off on the spree, it won't
do. I'd like to speak to him, is he in to-night ? "
"Yes, he's in. Oh, father will be pleased!
and he's keeping straight now. I don't think
he'll drink any more, because Grannie keeps
40 Tim and his Friends.
asking God not to let him;" and Tim looked
up with a bright confident look into the police-
"Ah my lad, 'tis easier to lose good than to
get it again. But if I can get this job, he'll
have a chance ; but here we are. Now I'll take
you in, and speak to the master about you. Be
attentive and learn all you can,-it'll maybe be
the making of you."
They then entered a large room ; and grouped
round it were several boys of different ages, and
seemingly of the poorer class, busily conning
their lessons, though they occasionally peeped
over their books or slates to the new-comer.
The policeman introduced Tim; and after he
had been set to work, he told the master what
a steady little fellow he was, in spite of his
wretched home. "He's got the making of some-
thing in him, sir, or I'm mistaken," said Hallett,
Well," laughed Mr. Hamilton, we'll see. I
will tell you more next time I see you, or in
a few weeks. It is a great encouragement to
teach those that are anxious to learn ; but I so
often find that they do not like the difficulties in
the way; they have not, as a rule, the energy
to surmount them."
Tim's Friend the Policeman. 41
"You'll make something of little Tim," said
Hallett, hopefully. I know you do this work
entirely for the Master's sake, and may He bless
"He is always doing that, Hallett. Good
evening. I hope I shall have good news for
you when you come again."
"Good night, sir," returned Hallett.
i- f.-.. ..
?--.,.. 'I i^ '^ ?""' -' -
.7-j I ---'. '. -
---- -::: '_;' -.i I, ,.
-__:: .__:.. .-.
'-. -, ,i '- L,'-.-, ,' " ' -- *, .- -' '-.
." '- "" *' 4 'r .. *. -.-
JOHN GRANT obtained the situation through
the kind word of Hallett; and, though
striving his hardest, he found it uphill work, and
it was some time before he could move into
better apartments. The difficulty of retracing
our steps ought to make us afraid of doing
He had been about a month in his new situa-
tion (Mr. Musgrave's) when, as Tim was going
home from the night school one evening, and
turning a corner quickly, a cab knocked him
down. He was taken to the hospital at once.
They could hardly say what injuries he had
sustained at first; but, on regaining h;s con-
sciousness, they sent for his father. John Grant
was in very great trouble, blaming himself for not
taking better care of his poor motherless boy.
The next day John told the old gardener
Tim's Accident. 43
what had befallen him, how his little Tim had
been run over; and the old man, knowing his
mistress's kindness of heart, told her of John's
trouble. Ever ready to comfort the distressed
Mrs. Musgrave went into the garden and had a
talk with him. John, touched by her kind and
sympathising manner, told her all his history,
how he had fallen, and how God had sent him
kind friends to raise him from his state of de-
gradation. But now, his little Tim was run
over, and in the hospital; and what could he
expect but that God would punish him for his
No, Grant, not punishing you; perhaps He
is sending this trial to draw you nearer to Him-
self, and to make you trust Him more fully, in
the dark, as well as in the light. But," she
added, "I will go and see your little boy; and
when he recovers (which I trust he will, for your
sake), Mr. Musgrave and myself will try to do
something for him."
John could only thank her in a broken voice
for her kindness; and she left him amazed at
the goodness of God in raising up such a kind
friend for his boy.
We so often ask God for things, and then feel
surprised when He grants us our prayer, instead
44 Tim and his Friends.
of knowing that all good things shall be added
Mrs. Musgrave kept her word, and went to
the hospital. You may imagine how pleased
she was to find, in little Tim, the boy she had
so often watched and longed to help. But the
nurse gave very little hope of his recovery : she
said that his constitution had been so tried with
exposure and insufficient food. Mrs. Musgrave
begged that they would spare no trouble, as
she was greatly interested in the child. Day
by day she came and read and sang to him
as he was able to bear it, until Tim used to
look for "his dear lady" (as he called her) with
pleasure, only second to the delight with which
he welcomed his father; and a bright smile
would light up his face when he saw her enter
The little fellow rewarded the kind care of his
nurses by improving steadily; and when the
doctor could tell John Grant that his son would
recover, it was indeed a red-letter-day; the
poor man utterly broke down, and sobbed aloud,
" I don't deserve it, sir. God has been so good to
me,-kow good I can never tell; and now He's
going to spare my little Tim." Clasping his
hands, and raising his streaming eyes he said,
, ', .'. , ,', ',
''II 'I: ^ .
... .. .I. . ,
T'IM' ' T E 'HO
TIM IN TE HOSPITAL.
v I E H-A
Tim's Accident. 47
(forgetful for the moment of those that stood
by,) 0 my Lord, make me more worthy of all
"Amen," came from the doctor's lips. "My
good man, we may all utter that prayer, for we
all have need."
"Ah! sir, but not the need I have. You
don't know what a sinner I've been."
Christ died for such, did He not ? We may
take Him at His word. He came to save lost
souls-yours and mine, my friend ; and I trust
that the life He has spared may in some way be
spent in His service, that your restored treasure
may do the Master's will."
And now it was time for John to look out for
some rooms in a purer atmosphere than the
old court. Tim would soon be able to leave the
hospital; and Grannie was to live with them
to keep them tidy, much to the old woman's
Hallett had promised to fetch Tim, when he
was off duty. In the hospital ward the child
had become quite a pet among the nurses, and
even among the doctors, he was so patient and
,_ --- ,
.- _- .
Estlh 1i!n i.
T HERE were two nurses standing near the
bed of a woman who had been severely
injured by an accident, one of them spoke.
So little Tim is going out, poor little fellow !
I did not think at one time that he would
get over it."
"We shall quite miss him," replied her com-
panion ; "he is so sweet-tempered. I am glad
he has such a friend in Mrs. Musgrave."
A sharp exclamation from the bed, made the
nurse in charge turn quickly round, and look at
the sufferer; she was very pale.
"What is it ?" the nurse asked ; is the pain
Yes," replied the woman, "the pain's bad
enough; but it is not that. Who were you
speaking about just now?"
"Why a little fellow that met with an acci-
Esther May. 49
dent about a month ago, Timothy Grant; he's
a dear little thing: he is better, and going out."
I do not mean the boy. Who did you say
would be a friend to him?"
Oh, you mean Mrs. 2.T1..''..*:. Yes, she is
a sweet lady, but very sad-looking. I think she
has had some heavy trouble; but she seems
almost an angel."
The woman in the bed closed her eyes, as
though she wished the conversation ended, and
the nurse moved away to attend to another
Towards evening, the woman who had given
her name as Hannah Croft, became much worse;
and the hopes that the doctors had entertained
of her recovery were very faint.
"Would you like to see a minister, my good
woman?" said the doctor; "you are very ill
"Does that mean I am going to die," asked
Hannah, quite startled.
"The issues of life and death are in higher
hands than mine; but you are in a very dan-
gerous state. I should not be doing my duty if
I did not tell you that."
"Oh, so I, who have been rebellious all my
life, can now, at the last moment, make my
50 Tim and his Friends.
peace with God. Well! God may be merciful,
but He is just, I suppose," Hannah replied, with
keen sarcasm in her tones.
No, my good woman, you have not to make
your peace with God, that was done for you
long ago. Now you must accept the sacrifice
'hat He made in giving his precious Son to die
for you. Repent, and be made whole, through
the blood that was shed."
Ah, you little know what I've done, or you
would not so easily speak of my sins being
Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be
white as snow; though they be red like crimson,
they shall be as wool," exclaimed the doctor;
"think it over, and pray that you may see the
way. Nurse Jones here can point you to the
Lamb." He knelt, and offered a short prayer
before he left, that her eyes might be opened to
see her state, and that she might be reconciled
to the Father, through the blood of Jesus.
The nurse sat by her, reading short portions
of Scripture, and speaking words of help and
comfort for some time.
"Nurse!" came a sharp voice from the bed;
"Nurse, I've something on my mind, and if
I'm going to die, I'd like to get it off. I have
Esther May. 51
injured some one very much, and I can't die
What can I do for you? shall I send for a
minister ? perhaps you can make restitution."
I don't know," Hannah replied; I'm afraid
not now; but I must tell some one, though I
doubt God ever forgiving me. I know the one
I injured would not; if I were in her case, I
couldn't, I'm sure."
"There is no limit to God's forgiveness,
if asked in the right spirit; I mean, if you
thoroughly repent,-repent of the sin, not only
of its consequences."
I don't know," replied Hannah, a hard look
coming over her face; I had a deal of provo-
Had not Christ much provocation, when
they buffeted and mocked Him; yet He said,
'Father, forgive them, for they know not what
they do.' And when we sin against God, do
we know that we crucify the Lord afresh, and
put Him to an open shame: He who bore our
sins in His own body on the tree."
Oh nurse, I feel awful bad. Send for some-
one; perhaps I shall be better when I've told all.
But if I get well, they could punish me," she
52 Tim and his Friends.
"Do not let the fear of that prevent your
making what amends you can. I do not think
the law of earth will touch you ; but remember
that you must be judged at a higher bar."
Nurse Jones left her to send for Mr. Douglass;
but quickly returned to the sufferer's bedside.
Hannah appeared weaker; but a kind of feverish
unrest seized her, and she anxiously watched
the door. At length it opened, which when
nurse saw, she rose and met the new-comer, and
briefly explained why she had sent for him.
The poor woman seemed impatient of even this
slight delay, for she rightly guessed it to be the
He went up to her bedside, and gently taking
her hand, said, "So you wish to see me, dear
"Yes," she answered in a low tone, I do
want to tell you of a great sin I once committed ;
for I see now that it was a sin of the blackest
dye. It has come over me like a shock, since I
knew that I was dying."
Hannah now got so faint that nurse had to
administer some refreshment before she could
When Hannah had somewhat revived, she
said, Now I must hasten ; for my time is short,
Esther May. 53
I fear. Some years ago, I was living as maid
to a lady: she had a very bad temper, and was
so sarcastic at times as to rouse every evil
passion in my nature. My proud spirit revolted
before her cutting speeches, and the feeling grew
upon me. I suppose the evil one helped me on;
but I nursed the spiteful feeling until it formed
my one aim in life. I so successfully hid my
feelings that my mistress never suspected me;
and when she had a little daughter (on the
illness of her nurse), she trusted me with her
treasure. It was a bad day for her when she
did so, as I now had the weapon in my hand
with which I could strike her, ah! strike her
to the very heart's core, through her child. I
shrank from the temptation at first; but it came
again and again, until I gave it attention. Then
I came to hail it gladly, and watched for the
moment to put it into execution. Of course I
had to arrange my plans carefully, not to be
found out. We were living in the country at
the time; the baby was about eight months old,
a small fairy-like thing."
Here the poor creature sank back exhausted.
She had raised herself, and leaned eagerly for-
ward, while she recited her tale. Nurse said
she must rest before going on again; but after
54 Tim and his Friends.
taking some restorative, she was eager to
"I am -tt.Iin weaker," she said, "let me go
on while there is time. Well," she continued,
" I decided at last to lose the babe in London.
I had saved a good sum of money while in
service, for my mistress paid generously; and
after any of her fits of temper, she would make
me a handsome present; but it never healed
the wound that her words had made. I see now
that it was no excuse for my wickedness; the
near approach of death makes things look very
"I resolved to look out for a woman who
would take the child off my hands for the money
I had saved, only keeping just enough to take
me abroad. I had some difficulty in this; but I
took advantage of my mistress visiting some
friends at a distance. I made every inquiry,
booked myself under a feigned name on board
a ship nearly ready to start for Australia. I
also found a tidy woman, who for a certain sum
would take the child, and ask no questions: she
perhaps thought it was my own. I made no
remarks about it, merely saying that I wished it
kept for a few years, and then I might claim it
again. I had some idea of restoring it to its
Esther May. 55
mother at some future time, when I thought she
had been punished quite enough. And, sir," she
continued, I know she suffered; but I hardly
think that her punishment was greater than mine;
I have lived in perfect torment. At times better
feelings would prevail; then the stings of con-
science were fearful. At last I felt that I must
come to England, and see the child once more.
I came; and on going to the place where I had
left her, I found the woman gone, and no one
knew her address. So the poor little babe that
had never harmed me is lost, or so brought up
that it would have been better had she died.
And this is my work. Is it possible that God
can forgive such a sinner as I have been ?
It was in returning from that fruitless search
that I was knocked down, and brought here, as
it were, to face my sin; and only a short time
ago I heard the nurse mention the name of my
former mistress. If it should be the lady whom
I have so basely injured, oh! keep her from me:
I can never look on her face again, never, never
again. Oh, my God I if it be possible, forgive
me! Death is pressing on me, and I have
sinned, oh, I fear, past redemption."
Sobs and moans burst from the wretched
woman, as she lay back exhausted. Nurse
56 Tim and his Friends.
hastened to try and revive her. It was all im-
portant that she should disclose the name of the
lady whom she had wronged.
When Hannah again opened her eyes, Mr.
Douglass leaned over her, speaking in low and
gentle tones. I will heal their backsliding. I
will love them freely; for Mine anger is turned
"Those words cannot be for me," answered
Hannah, in low exhausted tones. If my mis-
tress could forgive me, I might think that God
would. But she, I know, never would; she
never could. It would be different if I restored
her child ; but not now. She was in this place
a little while ago. Do not tell her :'!i tlhin,
until I am past all fear of her; I couldn't face
her, I couldn't, I couldn't," she moaned. "You
are a good man, sir; pray for me."
"I will," replied Mr. Douglass ; "I will wrestle
in prayer for your soul, you poor creature. But
give me the name of your former mistress, and
every particular concerning the child ; she may
even yet be restored."
My mistress's name was Musgrave." Both
clergyman and nurse started. But again she
spoke: "And my name is Esther May; she
would know it at once. But do not bring her
Esther May. 57
here, I could not bear it: I must never see her
again. I have the little one's clothes by me
still, with the exception of a shirt, marked in
initials with her mother's hair; but I thought
that would not be noticed. She was marked
with a perfect strawberry on her leg, so that she
could be recognized at once on examination.
But I have no clue to her whereabouts. Oh,
this is punishment, indeed. But I deserve it;
truly 'the wages of sin is death.' "
Esther again sank back, and closed her eyes.
After nurse had attended to her, she and Mr.
Douglass stepped aside, and conferred together
for a few minutes.
Nurse proposed that he should go at once to
the matron's room, as she would know whether
Mrs. Musgrave had left the building; she had
come that day rather later than usual to see
Tim before he left; and might possibly have
lingered to see others whom she was in the habit
of visiting. Nurse then returned to the poor
sufferer's side, and Mr. Douglass left the ward.
When he arrived at the matron's quarters, he
found a lady speaking with her; she was on the
point of leaving, the farewell words were being
spoken, the name mentioned being the name of
the lady of whom he was in quest. He quietly
58 Tim and his Friends.
asked for a private interview, whereupon the
matron gave up her room to them for the pur-
pose. Before he revealed the important news,
he ascertained whether he was addressing the
right person, and then disclosed gradually, and
with great care, the extent of her former maid's
Mrs. Musgrave became much excited, and
feverishly anxious to know whether there was
any chance of her little one being restored ; and
though Mr. Douglass reluctantly had to speak in
the negative, he added, But cheer up, madam,
God is stronger than any evil agency can be, and
we may find her yet, if she be alive. But re-
member, if He has taken her, she is now bloom-
ing where the flowers never wither nor die, and
where there is no pain nor sorrow any more."
Mrs. Musgrave burst into tears, and wept
unrestrainedly for some time. Mr. Douglass
quietly waited until the violence of her grief
passed off, knowing how much tears would re-
lieve the bursting heart.
When she had recovered her voice, she said,
"And you tell me she seems repentant. I
should like to see her, and assure her of my for-
giveness. I will forgive her, as I hope to be
forgiven. I was also much to blame. To a
Esther May. 59
nature like hers it was dangerous to act as I
did ; but I had then never learnt to control my
temper. It is sad how often we do wrong to
others as well as ourselves by not practising
self-control; truly, He that is slow to anger is
better than the mighty ; and he that ruleth his
spirit than he that taketh a city.' My chasten-
ing has been surely grievous; but it has, I hope,
brought forth the fruits of the Spirit."
"She said, my dear madam," answered Mr.
Douglass, that if you forgave her, that she felt
God would; but she did not believe you could."
"Well, I really could not in my own strength;
but He who has so mercifully led me, for my
soul's benefit, through great trials, will enable
me to forgive my fellow-creature. I will see
her at once if needful; you tell me she appears
to be sinking."
"She is indeed, dear madam. I will ask nurse
Jones, and return to you;" and Mr. Douglass
left the room.
The Rtestored ihild,
AFTER Mrs. Musgrave was left alone, she
.tX. again wept. The recital had brought
back all her grief, all the intense longing and
sorrow that she had suffered during the past
years; and she had to pray for strength and
grace to sustain her during the coming inter-
At first Esther positively refused to see her
former mistress; but Mr. Douglass pointed out
to her that she was adding to the sin she had
already committed by refusing to do so; also
that Mrs. Musgrave was prepared to forgive her.
Forgive me exclaimed Esther, "how can
she ? she will only heap reproaches on my head.
But I ought to bear even that; it would be a
fitting end to my punishment."
"But I tell you, my poor creature, she is pre-
pared to forgive you in Christ's name and for
The Restored Child. 61
His sake. Try to realise what real religion
Mrs. Musgrave on reaching the bedside of her
former servant, failed to recognize her, such
havoc had these past years made in her, and
so altered was the countenance upon which she
gazed. Esther gave one look and covered her
face with her hands, sobbing bitterly.
My poor girl," said Mrs. Musgrave, I know
all, and have come to say that I forgive you,
most freely forgive you, as I trust that God has
Oh, ma'am, how can you ? I never felt how
truly wicked I was until now ; but I have been
punished, ah bitterly punished. I have never
known what rest and peace have been since."
"And now may the Lord of all peace be with
your spirit in these your closing hours," breathed
Mrs. Musgrave, softly. I will pray for you;"
and long and earnestly she prayed beside that
poor soul, and pleaded for her before the throne
of grace. Then she rose, and taking her hand,
spoke words of comfort and consolation.
I will come again to-morrow, Esther," she
whispered ; "good-bye !"
"The Lord reward you, madam, and bring
your wee blossom to you again. A little comfort
62 Tzm and his Frzends.
has come to me since you came. I think God
will restore her : He will for your goodness to
such a sinner as I am. Oh, if I might be per-
mitted to see her before I go. God has forgiven
me, dear lady, I feel it, through your inter-
cession; and I will pray while breath lasts me
for your little child to come back."
Mrs. Musgrave leant over her and kissed her
brow, I also was much to blame, Esther," she
murmured, and then left the ward with Mr.
Hope again fluttered in their breasts as Mrs.
Musgrave and her husband talked that evening
over the events of the day. The latter could
not help admiring his noble wife for being so
Christ-like as to forgive Esther so readily.
The story was told to Hallett the policeman,
and he circulated it among others privately.
He had advised them not to make it public as
yet; but one day, while relating the whole
circumstance to Susan Carter, he observed
her to change colour, and look puzzled. He
made no remark at the time, but contrived
soon to see her again, and was not surprised
when she said that she had something to ask
him. She inquired very minutely when the
child was lost, what sort of woman the servant
The Restored C/ild. 63
was, and many other particulars, all of which
Hallett answered to the best of his ability.
"Well," she said, rather excitedly, "I think I
can put my hand upon the child. I don't know,
of course; but Susie here was left by a woman
some years ago. I thought 'twas her own, an'
she wanted to be rid of it. I've lived in several
places since then, so I daresay she couldn't find
me; we poor f6lks don't leave our address be-
hind us-there's no occasion. But it'll be hard
lines to give the little un up,-I'm mortal fond
of her, she's a sweet little creter. But I can't
keep her from her mother;" and the tears
gathered in the woman's eyes as she spoke.
"That is good news for Mrs. Musgrave, Susan.
Have you got the little shirt she had on when
she came ?"
"Yes, I have that; it was so fine, I saved
it; but I dunno about the marking,-I never
see anything on it. But there, I'll show it you."
The shirt, on being produced, proved to be the
one spoken of by Esther: the initials being
woven in hair had not been noticed.
Of course Hallett communicated with Mrs.
Musgrave at once, and appointed a time for
Susan to bring the child.
The hour drew near, and she, who had been
64 Tim and his Friends.
"tried in the furnace seven times heated," was
pacing the room, hoping soon to see the little
one from whom she had been separated so many
years. She could not rest, her husband was
with her; but she was in a state of feverish
excitement. Oh, Herbert!" she exclaimed,
"is this another disappointment, or shall I clasp
my darling once again in my arms ?"
Mr. Musgrave was very pale, but composed.
"Do not agitate yourself, my love; He who
doeth all things well will be with us, and
strengthen us to bear it, should disappointment
again be our lot."
"Yes, I know," she said, gently; "He will
help us. I will try to be calm and resigned to
His will, but it is hard work."
A knock came to the door; and in a short
time Susan Carter and the little girl were ushered
into the room, Susie clinging to the woman's
skirts, and hiding herself. But Mr. Musgrave
instantly took her up, gazed long and intently
into her face, gave her one fond kiss, then placing
her in her mother's arms, said, "There is no
mistake here, dear Mary, she is the image of
you." Mrs. Musgrave could only silently clasp
her in her arms, and kiss her repeatedly, while
tears coursed down her cheeks.
The Restored Child. 65
Susie did not like such demonstration of affec-
tion from strangers, and began to cry, when her
mother looked up into Susan Carter's face, and
saw that she was feeling the coming parting
keenly. On Susie (or Ethel, as we must now
call her) being put down, she instantly ran into
Susan's arms, and was clasped fondly to her
breast, while sobs shook the woman's frame
Mrs. Musgrave went to her, and kindly putting
her hand upon her, said, Sit down, Susan. My
own joy must not make me selfish: I know how
you must feel parting with the child; but let us
talk about it. This little one is my very own;
see, she has the mark!" and she bared her little
leg, where the strawberry was plainly visible.
"Yes, ma'am, I am glad you've got her; but
I shall be lone without her. Ah! I shall miss
her pretty ways for many a long day, she was
the light o' my eyes," answered Susan, in a
"You shall often see her, Susan; and I will
think of something for you. I shall assuredly
not let you continue in your present position.
I am deeply in your debt for taking such
good care of my little girl. Can you now stay
a few weeks as her nurse, until she gets used
66 Tim and his Friends.
to us, it would fret her for you to leave her
"Yes, ma'am, I can. Mr. Hallett said as
you'd very like want me for a bit."
"How thoughtful of Hallett. Herbert, my
dear," addressing her husband, "you must benefit
him in some way: it is indirectly through him
that we have recovered our lost treasure."
"I most certainly feel very grateful to him
and will do all in my power to benefit him,'
said Mr. Musgrave.
After Susan had been some weeks in Murray
Square, Mrs. Musgrave finally determined to
retain her in the capacity of nurse to little
1 - i-
E STHER MAY did not die until she had seen
the lost Ethel in her mother's arms; and
then rejoicing in her risen Saviour, who had
washed away her sins in His blood, she sank to
rest, and Mrs. Musgrave buried her.
We must now return to Tim, who was getting
quite well. He had heard all about Ethel, and
rejoiced greatly at his friend's good fortune.
Nothing would satisfy Mrs. Musgrave but that
Tim should be wholly educated at her expense;
and the old gardener leaving, she persuaded her
husband to appoint John Grant to the vacant
We must pass over some years now. It will
find our old friend Tim in a merchant's office.
His kind friends did not forsake him after he
68 Tim and Ais Friends.
left school (where he had distinguished himself,
obtaining the love of the masters as well as the
boys), but placed him in an office, where by
industry and perseverance he could rise by
merit. He often sees Ethel, as he is allowed to
visit Mr. and Mrs. Musgrave. Ethel still likes
to queen it over him as in old times ; and Tim is
as kind as ever to her. They are like brother
and sister. He is so clever, that it is confidently
expected that he will be made manager some
Ethel, who has grown a tall, but still fragile-
looking girl (though she enjoys good health), is
looking from a window. "Here he comes,
mother dear," she exclaims, joyously; "here is
"What makes you so late? she greets him
with, putting on a pretty pout; "you are ten
minutes beyond your time," pointing to a clock
on the mantelpiece.
"I am sorry that I kept you waiting, Ethel;
but father has had some news. He has some
relations who are well-to-do farmers; indeed,
my uncle, who is just dead, was one, I believe.
He has just left father a considerable sum of
money, or so it appears to us. He grieves for
his loss, of course ; but the change from what he
The Cloud. 69
is now to a comfortable position is great. He
spoke at once of some day taking a share for
me in the business; and to-day Mr. Berkley
offered me the manager's place, which has just
become vacant; so you see I have had much to
occupy my thoughts, and I trust I am now for-
given for not coming before."
Forgiven, my dear boy, of course you are,"
exclaimed Mrs. Musgrave; "but Ethel likes to
be a little imperious."
"Oh, I am glad, Tim said Ethel; "that is
good news. Why, you will be quite a gentle-
Hush, Ethel! Tim is a gentleman. He is
an honourable, educated man, and that con-
stitutes a gentleman."
"Thanks to you, dear Mrs. Musgrave, I have
education. I am afraid my father's good fortune
would have come too late to have given it me
"Well, I am indeed glad; though we shall
lose our good gardener. How is Grannie to-
She is fairly well, thank you ; of course, very
lame. She goes with us when we remove;
father would not know what to do without the
old lady now. Her cheerful sunny spirit is just
70 Tim and his Friends.
what he needs; and I cannot tell you what she
is to me. I love her dearly."
Some months passed on; and though sur-
rounded by every comfort and still head manager,
Tim has a cloud on his brow; and his friends,
Mr. and Mrs. Musgrave (who look upon him
with affection and tender interest), have tried to
invite his confidence, but in vain. Ethel noticed
I wonder, mother, what is the matter with
Tim," she said one evening, as they sat working
together; "he has been looking so sad lately.
It is only sometimes that I notice it: then he
appears to try and shake it off, and be cheerful
again; but it is done with an effort."
"Yes, my dear, I have observed how absent
he is; and that an indescribable sadness rests
upon his once bright sunny face. I do not think
it is anything at home; all seems right there."
Do you know, mother," said Ethel, thought-
fully, "I believe it is something at the office.
Do you remember he told us that his father
intended buying him a share in the business
some day ? Well, when I was last at Woodbine
Cottage, Mr. Grant said he had offered to do
so several times; but Tim had put him off. It
seemed to trouble the old man greatly; he
The Cloud. 71
appears to stand a little in awe of Tim, gentle as
he is, in consequence of his being received in
good society, and being so clever, I suppose."
"I will ask your father to speak to Mr.
Berkley. Perhaps he can throw some light on
the mystery. But here he comes," she exclaimed,
" I hear his knock. We will talk it over with
When dinner was over, and Mr. Musgrave
had joined his wife and daughter in the drawing-
room, the question was brought up of Tim's
altered manner, when, much to their surprise, he
said, "I have been talking to Mr. Berkley this
morning about this affair, and I find he has
grave suspicions that the accounts have been
falsified, and the books tampered with; and he
strongly suspects Tim. I asked him why he
should do so, as I felt sure he was so straight-
forward and honourable. He replied that it
rested between Tim and a clerk who had been
with them for twenty years, and he could not
suspect the old man."
"I am sure Tim never did it," burst forth
Ethel. I would stake my life on his integrity."
"You need not disturb yourself, my dear, to
announce his innocence; neither your mother
nor myself believe it of him. But I am sure
72 Tmn and his Friends.
he has felt under a cloud lately; and with his
usual sweetness and patience is waiting for it to
clear away. Still it is making him unhappy;
and I told Mr. Berkley so, and advised him to
thoroughly investigate the case. He has pro-
mised to do so, and had no idea that he had
shown anything in his manner for Tim to notice.
I trust it may soon be cleared up, as I feel sure
it will be to the honour and credit of our young
I ..'i' ,
.tel -- '* K r -" p
A FEW more months passed on, when one
evening Tim came to see his friends much
earlier than usual. "I have such good news !"
he exclaimed; I felt that I must come and tell
you; perhaps you have noticed that I have not
been quite happy lately."
"Not happy!" exclaimed impulsive Ethel,
her dark eyes filling with tears; very unhappy,
I should say, and not exaggerate much."
Well, dear friends, I have been very unhappy.
I must tell you from the beginning, or you will
"Now do not trouble to do that," replied
Ethel; "for we know all about it. I expect it
was the confidential clerk that did the mischief,
was it not?"
It was," said Tim ; "but how did you get to
74 Tim and his Friends.
Papa asked Mr. Berkley what was the
matter. He had no idea that during the un-
certainty, he was giving you the cold shoulder,
and making you miserable."
Well," replied Tim ; "the cloud is removed,
I am cleared; but the poor old man has con-
fessed. I am truly sorry for him. He has been
in that house for the last twenty years. I think
it was a shock to Mr. Berkley to find one in
whom he had trusted so fully to be unworthy of
his confidence. I would not let father name
about the share in the business, though several
times he wished to do so ; but I could not have
the subject broached while I was under the ban
of Mr. Berkley's coldness."
I am thankful that you are cleared," said
Ethel, briskly; "but I always said you were not
Thank you, dear Ethel, for your trust in me."
Of course we trusted you, my dear boy. I
was sure that you were uprightness itself," said
How much I thank you all for your good
opinion of me; and now father may buy me the
share as soon as he likes."
Not many days after, Tim entered his friends'
drawing-room quite elated.
"What good news now ?" said Mr. Musgrave;
"for I see there is something by your face. If
you do not tell us when you are in trouble, you
never hide your joy from us : yours is a sweetly
unselfish nature, Tim."
"With whom should I share my pleasure,
if not with my life benefactors? What should
I have been without you, my dear, dear friends ?"
and his glowing face beamed with gratitude.
But 1 must tell you my news. Father went to
Mr. Berkley to ask him to let me have a small
share in the business; and what do you think
he said? 'No, Mr. Grant, not a small share,
but he shall be full partner; you can put in
the sum you intended, and he can work out the
rest. I would not for worlds crush his noble
independent spirit; but henceforth it shall be
Berkley and Grant !' You may imagine
father's pride and delight; but much more was
said than I can remember."
"Well done, my boy," replied Mr. Musgrave,
grasping Tim by the hand ; "but it is no more
than I expected of you. Hallett said years ago,
when you were 'little Tim,' that there was the
making of a good man in you, and he was right;
and now, Ethel, what have you to say to your
friend and playfellow on this auspicious day ?"
76 Tim and his Friends.
But Ethel was quietly crying.
"What, crying!" said her father, "that is a
nice way of taking good news."
"Leave her alone, Herbert dear; she is over-
come at Tim's good fortune, but she none the
I am quite sure of that," said Tim, with a
loving glance in Ethel's direction.
But Ethel now came forward, unwilling for
Tim to imagine for one moment that she did not
care for his news, and, holding out her hand,
exclaimed, her voice unsteady with emotion and
her eyes bright with tears-
"Tim dear, you know how greatly I rejoice at
your good fortune; and although I feel how
worthy you are of it all, it came upon me with
a sudden though glad surprise that rather upset
me: but I will be foolish no longer. How strange
it is, we look out for and even expect good things,
and then when they come we are surprised and
overpowered. But you know," she added, I
pictured your father's delight at 'his boy's'
success,-he is so proud of you, Tim,-and in
imagination I saw Grannie put her spectacles on,
and gaze so fondly upon you, her old face glowing
with pleasure, and her hands trembling as she
placed them on your head in blessing. I have
so often seen her do it, and it never loses its
charm with me,-she looks like an aged saint.
I have wished that I had the painter's skill that
I could transfer her expression to canvas; it all
appeared so vividly before my mind that I fairly
"No excuse is needed, dear Ethel,-I never
doubted you; but a flood of memory comes over
me to-night. I can remember now, when a mere
baby you sympathised and loved me, making
my dark path brighter for your presence; our
friendship is too sincere and deep for any apology
to be needed."
"Ah well, Tim, I shall come up and talk it
over with Mr. Grant and Grannie, they will be
delighted to have so sympathising a listener.
I shall probably hear a great deal more than
you have told us, owing to your modesty. H-ow
their eyes will glisten and their cheeks glow
while they recount your praises. But I do not
promise to take it all in though," she added,
smiling archly, "we shall be having you quite
I have little fear of that," said Mrs. Mus-
grave; "Tim knows himself better; he has
gone through the furnace, and been tried in the
78 Tim and his Friends.
Tim Jeft his friends with a happy heart; he
felt that God had been very good to him ; had
prepared pleasant paths for his feet; and he
prayed earnestly to be made more worthy of his
calling, that in his renewed prosperity he might
not forget the Hand that had led him hitherto,
had tenderly and lovingly shaped his course,
had given him "all things richly to enjoy."
It is almost needless to state that having
committed his future to a loving Father's care,
he went on his way steadily from year to year.
And by diligence and perseverance he at length
worked out his partnership, and saved sufficient
money on the death of Mr. Berkley to take the
whole concern, which was another cause of
thanksgiving to John Grant and Grannie; and
of course his old friends in Murray Square came
in with their share of rejoicing.
Grannie lived to a good old age, cheered and
comforted to the last by the love and tenderness
of those around her; but always being such a
bright light herself, she was a joy to her friends,
doing good in her simple, unobtrusive way unto
the last. Bright with many a star would be
her crown ; and, Well done, good and faithful
servant," would certainly be hers, when she
entered the many mansions prepared by her
Tim and his Friends. 79
Father for those who love and serve Him here
below. She left a blank in Woodbine Cottage
when she entered into rest.
Tim's father still lives, a happy old man, and
his son takes such care of him; but Tim's
greatest pleasure is to entertain his friends from
Murray Square. And he also takes every
opportunity of giving a helping hand to those
deserving ones who have sprung from a similar
position as himself. The Lord blessed him
greatly, and he tries to be a blessing to others.
S -I H P .~- .
ON' T MIDDLE STREET, EC. '
LONDON : KNIGHT, PRINTER, MIDDLE STREET, E.C.
Ir ~ :