"I'll try the
world once more in a humbler spirit, and have faith in _you,_ at
least, my little Providence."
With an altered purpose in his heart, and a brave smile on his lips,
the young man went away, leaving the child with another happy
memory, to watch the cross upon the old church tower.
It was mid-winter; and in the gloomy house reigned suffering and
want. Sister Bess worked steadily to earn the dear daily bread so
many pray for and so many need. Jamie lay upon his bed, carving with
feeble hands the toys which would have found far readier purchasers,
could they have told the touching story of the frail boy lying
meekly in the shadow of the solemn change which daily drew more
near.
Cheerful and patient always, poverty and pain seemed to have no
power to darken his bright spirit; for God's blessed charity had
gifted him with that inward strength and peace it so often brings to
those who seem to human eyes most heavily afflicted.
Secret tears fell sometimes on his pillow, and whispered prayers
went up; but Bess never knew it, and like a ray of sunshine, the
boy's tranquil presence lit up that poor home; and amid the darkest
hours of their adversity, the little rushlight of his childish faith
never wavered nor went out.
Below them lived the young man, no stranger now, but a true friend,
whose generous pity would not let them suffer any want he could
supply. Hunger and cold were hard teachers, but he learned their
lessons bravely, and though his frame grew gaunt and his eye hollow,
yet, at heart, he felt a better, happier man for the stern
discipline that taught him the beauty of self-denial and the
blessedness of loving his neighbor _better_ than himself.
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