“YOUNG MRS. BOLTON’S HUSBAND.”
That is what people got in the way of calling handsome Jack Bolton, who, altho not an out-and-out bad fellow, was decidedly thoughtless, and not a little reckless withal. He liked a fast horse, a dog and gun, a game of cards or billiards; he frequented ball games, “foot and bat,” and boat-races and horse-races, and went to all sorts of places where he would not have taken his wife had she wanted to go, which she did not. Young Mrs. Bolton was lovely, accomplished, and, best of all, a very earnest working Christian. Having leisure she put it into church, mission, and other philanthropic work, and all the church people who went sometimes to prayer meetings and mission meetings were perfectly confident that, whoever stayed at home, Mrs. Bolton would go, so that the minister would have somebody to keep him in countenance. Jack’s manner of life being in such marked contrast provoked comment, of course, and after a while every one fell into the habit of calling him “young Mrs. Bolton’s husband;” and Jack would say in his droll way that it mattered very little what he did, for he traveled on the piety of his wife. The young women sometimes said they should think his wife would be ashamed of him, but she was not, altho, of course, she wished he would lead a more useful life. “He has talents and time, and might be helpful in so many directions, instead of simply amusing himself,” she would say; “and in these days, when there are so many ways to spend time and money for the benefit of one’s fellow-beings, it is a pity that he will not recognize his opportunities.” But she did not preach or scold, and Jack never got over thinking her a paragon of perfection. Jack was not a Christian, of course, and the burden of his wife’s thought was that, should he be converted, he would, as a matter of course, change his manner of life. So she prayed for him, and asked her father, who was a minister, to pray, and all her particular10friends were entreated to make Jack an object of special prayer. One morning as she was putting everything in perfect order in her pretty home, for they kept no servant, the thought came to her that perhaps she had in reality more of the Martha spirit than of the Mary. “I am always doing,” she said, “and so was Martha. When I am at home, I am hurrying through my work so as to get ready to go out—on the Lord’s business, to be sure; I seldom am occupied with anything else, and I have endeavored to be diligent. It may be possible that I do not spend time enough in quiet prayer. I pray, I pray for dear Jack almost without ceasing, but it is often as I am rushing along the street or riding in a car, and, of course, my thoughts are, in a way, taken up by my surroundings. I do not take time to be holy.” “Now I firmly believe that all things are possible with God and that he is able and willing to hear and answer prayer, and now, for a time, instead of overmuch serving, I will sit at Jesus’ feet and learn of him, and I will pray for the conversion of my husband until my prayer is answered.” “What has become of young Mrs. Bolton?” people said. “She must be away; I haven’t seen her on the street for days.” But all the time the faithful little woman, after her housework was done, was in her closet engaged in earnest prayer for the conversion of her husband. She did not speak of the matter to her husband or to any one. She was so often out that her friends, seeing the closed shutters, did not ring the bell, so she was not disturbed. Jack, who was seldom at home excepting at meal-times and to sleep, did not inquire into her pursuits so long as everything about the household machinery moved on smoothly and regularly, and supposed she was occupied in district visiting and attending meetings as usual. At length, when some time had elapsed, he said to her one Sunday morning:— “I have been thinking lately that I am leading a very useless and unsatisfactory life. I don’t know what did put it into my head at first. I fancied it was because I was tired, but the thought has kept in my mind like an expostulating voice, and I thought I would ask you what you thought about it, and if you would like to have me go to church with you to-day.” “Mrs. Bolton has got back,” people said with animation. “How pleasant it is to see her bright face again! And her husband is with her. What can it mean?” It meant that Jack Bolton, having become quietly convinced that his life was being wasted, was led by his wife to seek divine guidance, and in all the years since their lives and their work have been in perfect harmony. “What has become of young Mrs. Bolton’s husband?” some one asked at a “race” or “game” a few months later, and the reply was:— “O, he became tired of this sort of thing, or thought better of it! Couldn’t help it, I suppose, with such a wife; and the funniest of it all is that since there has ceased to be such a contrast in their manner of life, the old nickname is dropped, and they have settled down into simple Mr. and Mrs. John Bolton, useful members of the church, and of society, and active in all benevolent enterprises.” Mrs. Bolton’s father told me this story, with permission to write it for the benefit of all who are praying for the conversion of friends, perhaps in a half-hearted way.—American Messenger.