Marian's Choice | AdventAI

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Feb 14, 1884

Marian's Choice.

THREE English girls, at school at Dieppe, were sitting, after the fashion of girls, with their arms around one another's waists, on the deep window-seat of a spacious, old-fashioned room. It had been the saloon or dining-room of a fine manor house, and was now occupied by a ladies' school.

"Now who do you think is the happiest person you ever saw?" said the one who sat in the middle—a handsome girl, frank and good-tempered looking, but with a lurking expression of haughtiness on her finely-turned features.

"Let Edith say first," said the one on her left hand; "she is the eldest." This speaker was plain but pleasant in appearance, with nothing either in dress or person to attract notice.

"No!" said Edith, a rather comely-looking girl, who crept close under the arm of her companion, "let Katharine say first, and I'll follow her, for I haven't made up my mind yet, and then you, Marian, shall finish."

"Well, then," said Katharine, "I'll tell you the only person I ever wish to be. You know I have everything a girl could want; plenty of pocket money, and all that sort of thing. I like school very much, and when I am at home I am as happy as I can be, for I go to all the parties that I am old enough for, and when I leave, I know I shall come out, and have no end of balls and concerts. All this is very nice, but oh! there is one person that must be happy. I'm afraid you'll laugh at me, if I tell you whom I mean. I never thought of it till last holidays, but since then the happiness of that person is often coming into my mind."

Her companions assured her they would not laugh.

"Very well; last holidays I was in Paris, and papa and mamma took me to see the Empress at a review. She rode several times so close to us, that I saw her distinctly. Oh! it was such a sight!" and here she described minutely all the pomp and ceremony of the proceeding—and oh! how happy she looked, and well she might; only fancy to be the head of all the people in France! Well, she is my choice, and if I could be any one besides myself, I'd be the Empress!"

Neither of her companions seemed much impressed by her choice.

Edith, according to agreement, followed, "Well, I've been thinking, and I don't know any one that I should like to be so much as cousin Jane. She is the only child; she does not go to school. My uncle and aunt are so fond of her; I believe they think she is perfect. She has a maid that mends all her things, and she has only to ask for anything she thinks she wants, and she has it. Now when I am at home, instead of enjoying myself as she does, I am obliged to help to mend not only my own clothes, but my sisters', for you know there are two younger than I am. And then the boys make it so disagreeable; they are very well at the beginning of the holidays, when they are new, but they soon get unruly, and make me wish myself back at school; so really, I should like to be cousin Jane. Now, Marian, it is your turn."

Marian looked thoughtfully, and said, "I believe you will laugh at me, and perhaps I had better not tell you my choice."

They assured her they would not be astonished at anything.

"Then listen," she continued, "I was brought up by my aunt and uncle, for I am, as you know, an orphan. My uncle was rector of L—, in Monmouthshire. He was rural dean, and my aunt had almost as much to do with the parish as he had, in the way of visiting the sick and poor.

"It was his way to have a dinner every Sunday, for such of the poor as came from long distances to church, for the parish was extensive; and there was a large nail factory at the end of it, and he was anxious to get the workmen to church if he could. There was one old man that came regularly every Sunday. I used to watch him in church, and often noticed how he would fix his eyes upon my uncle during the sermon. When he came into the kitchen to dinner, without seeming to notice any one there, he would go down upon his knees, and ask God for a blessing upon the minister who had spread a table for the poor, but above all, that the souls of those who had been at church might be strengthened by the bread of life. I told my aunt once, I thought this was not like entering into your closet, and shutting your door, and praying to your Father in secret; but she said she hoped and believed the old nailer did that too.

"One Sunday he missed church, and a day or two after, my uncle being sure he was ill, begged my aunt to go and look after him, as he was too much engaged with work at home. She took me with her; we had a very long walk, before we reached the hut-like dwelling of the old man. It was but one room, and there was little space in it, so that his bed took up nearly the whole. He earned very small wages, being very infirm, and unable to work except occasionally. He was on his bed, and had been very ill from severe rheumatism; his eyes glistened with delight when my aunt appeared at the door. 'We thought you were ill, John,' she said, 'and I came to look after you.' He dwelt but a very short time on his illness, and then began to tell her how good the Lord had been to him, and how happy he was. 'Now, missus,' he said, 'just look here at the riches of his grace, and see what is laid up for us;' and he took a great old Bible from the head of his bed, and began to show her many places in it. It was most curious to see it; it was quite full of straws—for whenever he heard anything at church (not only the text, but other texts as well) that struck him, he always pulled a straw out of his bed when he got home, and put it into that place that he might be able to find it; and he had marked so many, that the end of his Bible looked more like a brush than anything else I could think of. We were there a long time. He said, 'Thank ye, missus,' for the things my aunt brought him, but told her he was very

comfortable and wanted nothing, for he thought he should be able to work again the next week. It was not one night, but a great many nights, that I thought of that old man. I shall never forget his face as long as I live. I have never seen any one quite so happy since, though my uncle and aunt are very happy people; and I really think if I had to change places with any one, it should be with the old nailer."

Her companions interrupted her with a murmur of surprise.

"Yes," she said, "I think even as he was then I would, but certainly for his good prospect hereafter of a crown that will never perish, at God's right hand, where there are pleasures forevermore."

The tea-bell summoned them from the window-seat, but the story of the old nailer made some impression on Katharine and Edith; and they often in their leisure hours asked Marian to tell them more of the people and doings in her uncle's parish.—Sel.