Charlie Scott Part 5

"Wait for the medicine," she said, "and bring it home with you."

He was waiting in the shop until it was ready, and turning over all sorts of plans for the future in his mind, when one of Mrs. Greenwell's servants came in. "Is that you, Charlie Scott?" she exclaimed. "Master Harry was just inquiring after you, if you had been at the house lately."

"How long have they been at home?" he asked in surprise.

"About two hours; they came this morning."

Charlie picked up the medicine that the chemist had placed before him, and set off home as hard as he could run.

"I'm just going to Mrs. Greenwell's, mother dear," he said, giving it in at the door; "I'll soon be back."

Harry Greenwell saw in a moment by Charlie's face that he was in trouble, and asked anxiously what was the matter. He liked Charlie, and from the first they had been as close friends as the difference in their station and education would allow. Charlie always went to Mrs. Greenwell and "Master Harry" when he was in trouble; indeed, Mrs. Greenwell had succeeded in making all the boys who went to her Bible cla.s.s feel that she was their _friend_, and interested in all concerning them; and many of them were thankful for her advice and kind, encouraging words, when they were in trouble or anxiety.

Charlie told them of his father's illness, of his own selfishness, his repentance, his self-reproach, and his anxiety to do something to help at home.

"My dear boy," said Mrs. Greenwell, "I am so glad you have come to me; but I trust you have already laid all this before your great Friend and Father in heaven."

"Oh yes, ma'am," answered Charlie; "but I feel so ashamed of having so often to ask G.o.d to forgive me; I feel almost afraid that He will be tired of me, and refuse to listen."

"We might be afraid of that," said Mrs. Greenwell, "if we asked forgiveness in our own unworthy names--if the Saviour had never died for us. But as you know, He came into the world to save sinners. He gave Himself for our sins. 'He was wounded for our transgressions: He was bruised for our iniquities, and with His stripes we are healed.' 'The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from all sin.' He has said, 'Whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in My name, He will give it you;'

and if we doubt His word we are lost. If we repent, and are sincerely sorry for our sin, and ask G.o.d to forgive us, for Jesus Christ's sake, He will do so, no matter how often we go to Him. It is Satan who tries to put hard thoughts of G.o.d into our hearts. And now, in your trouble, Charlie, you do not know how the Saviour loves you and sympathizes with you. He knows what it is to suffer. He is waiting at the door of your heart, longing to come in and help and comfort you. He says, 'Behold, I stand at the door and knock;' do not refuse Him entrance, Charlie."

Tears stood in Charlie's eyes when Mrs. Greenwell finished speaking, tears of thankfulness for such a Saviour, and of grat.i.tude to Mrs.

Greenwell.

When they began to talk of what Charlie could do to help at home, and earn some money, Harry asked him what he would like to do best.

"I should best like to be amongst engines, and machines, and those things," said Charlie. "Father meant me to be an engineer--a working engineer, if all had gone on well; he meant to apprentice me. But, of course, that is all over now," he said, with a sigh; "it would be so long before I could earn anything like good wages."

"Yes, indeed," said Mrs. Greenwell, turning over all sorts of plans in her mind. "You see," she went on, "errand boys get so little, and tradesmen will not give wages to inexperienced boys for shop work, when they can get apprentices. Haven't you thought of anything yourself?" she asked, after a pause.

"There's the pit," answered Charlie, with a sigh; "I could get six s.h.i.+llings a week, as trapper, directly. Joe Denton gets more than double that now."

"Oh, Charlie!" exclaimed Harry, "surely you will not have to go down those terrible mines?"

Mrs. Greenwell reminded Harry that was not the way to help Charlie. "I know he will feel it hard at first if he goes; but still I am sure he is a brave boy and will not shrink from it, if he feels it to be his duty.

You would not have him idling about at home, thinking only of his own comfort, and picking and choosing his work, when his father, who has done so much for him, is suffering from a lingering illness, and wanting so many little comforts that cannot be bought without money?"

After a good deal of thought, Mrs. Greenwell said, "I believe, Charlie, it is the only thing for you. It will be a great trial to you, I know, to give up all your dreams about engines and machines, and being a clever man, and getting rich, and having instead to go down into a dark, dreary coal-pit day after day, to a life of hard toil; but it appears, as far as we can see, to be G.o.d's will and your duty. You remember those words of our Saviour,--'If any will come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross and follow Me.' We have all a cross of some kind to bear, and this is your cross, Charlie; take it up patiently, bravely, and willingly. He will not give you more than you can bear. Trust Him.

There is no doubt some great blessing is in store for you, if you do not shrink from this trial of your faith."

Charlie had two or three very busy days before Sat.u.r.day night came. As soon as he had decided to go down the mine, he went to a fellow-workman of his father's, Hudson Brownlee, and asked him if he would let him go down with him the first time. Brownlee was a kind-hearted man, and took an interest in Charlie. He promised to see about his work for him, and call on Monday morning at ten o'clock. Charlie kept it quite a secret from his father and mother until Sat.u.r.day night, then, putting on some of his oldest clothes that he had routed out ready for Monday, and taking his father's lamp in his hand, that he used in the mine, he walked into the room where they were, made a bow, twisted himself round in front of them, and with a cheery face and merry tone said, "Do I look like work, father? shall I do?" At first they looked at him in amazement, but gradually his meaning came upon them.

"My dear boy," said Mrs. Heedman, laying down her knitting, "what do you mean?"

"I mean this," said he, putting down his lamp, and taking each of their hands in his, "I am not going to be an idle, selfish fellow any longer.

It's all settled and done. I am going down the pit on Monday, with Hudson Brownlee, and I shall have six s.h.i.+llings to bring home on Sat.u.r.day night; think of that, mother, and I shall soon get twice as much. Father shall want for nothing."

Tears of love and pleasure stood in John Heedman's eyes, for he knew what it must have cost Charlie to make up his mind to it. "You know how happy it makes your mother and myself to hear you speak so bravely and gratefully," he said; "but are you quite sure, Charlie, that you have counted the cost? Take another week to think of it; thank G.o.d, we are not likely to want for some time, there is a little store put by.

Remember it is a hard and dreary life to a young ambitious spirit; think it over again."

"I have thought of it, father, ever since the doctor came to see you on Tuesday; it is quite settled. Mrs. Greenwell and Master Harry both seem to think it is my duty. They say I can serve G.o.d the same, and I shall be just as dear to Him as if I was ever such a rich engineer; and no honest work is a disgrace."

"That is true," his father began; he was going to say something else, but Charlie seemed anxious to finish his say.

"Master Harry says, father, I must think of what I have been taught, and try to do my duty in that state of life to which it has pleased G.o.d to call me. He says if I am obliged to work with my hands, I can work with my head too. Master Harry has offered to give me lessons in the morning before I go to work, and he will lend me books to read, and I shall have that to think about whilst I am down the pit. It won't seem half so dreary when I have busy, pleasant thoughts. And, father, Mrs. Greenwell says I have had such good training at home, and been able to get to Sunday school and Bible cla.s.s so regularly, that I ought to be quite a missionary amongst the boys I shall meet, who have not had such opportunities."

Application was made for him to be engaged at the pit, and it was agreed that Charlie should begin his new duties on Monday.

CHAPTER VIII.

DOWN THE MINE.

All boys and girls know the pleasure of drawing up to a nice, bright, sparkling fire on a cold winter night. They give little s.h.i.+vers of comfort, and say, "What ever should we do without a good fire, such weather as this?" But we dare say very few give a thankful thought to the miner, whose hard toil has procured this comfort for them.

Perhaps some who read this do not live in a mining country, and have not read or heard much about coal mines. If so, we think they will like to follow Charlie as he goes to his work on Monday morning. Hudson Brownlee called, as he promised, but we are sorry to say Charlie kept him waiting full five minutes whilst he searched for a comforter. His mother had told him to get it ready on Sat.u.r.day night, but he put off until Monday morning, then he put off until he got back from Harry Greenwell's. Harry kept him longer than he expected, and he came tearing along just as Hudson Brownlee reached the door; then the comforter had to be found.

At last they started. When Charlie stood near the great, dark, gaping mouth of the pit, and remembered that he had to go down there, he certainly felt as he afterwards described it, "very queer"--not afraid, oh no, but queer.

The cage, as it is called, had just been let down, with its number of sixteen men; when it came up again, Hudson Brownlee, Charlie, and some other men and boys got in. If Charlie felt "queer" before, he felt still "queerer" now, and when the cage began to descend, he felt almost sick with the motion; it seemed to him as if they were never going to reach the bottom. Down, down, down they went; the clatter of the engine above, and the creaking of the cage, making Charlie fancy every now and then that the rope was giving way, and that in another second they would all be dashed to atoms. Whenever he looked up, and remembered that all their weight was bearing upon that rope, he screwed himself up into the smallest possible compa.s.s, as if that would make him lighter. He could scarcely see anything at first, the change from broad daylight to the glimmering light of the lamps that the men carried was so great.

"Are you all right, my boy?" said Brownlee's cheery voice; "keep up your heart, we shall soon be out of this. He's a new hand," he said, turning to the others.

"Who is it?" they asked.

"Why," said Brownlee, lowering his voice, "it's that young one that John Heedman took to keep; his father was drowned, you'll remember--Scott, the pilot."

On hearing this most of them were silent, but one boy thrust his lamp forward, and stared rudely in Charlie's face.

"Why, if it isn't that Miss Nancy fellow, Scott!" he exclaimed, in either real or pretended astonishment. "But it can't be," he went on, in a mocking tone, "and yet it is; why, how ever has it happened that such a nice, good boy, the ladies' pet, has come down amongst us roughs? I thought he was going to be made a gentleman of--dear, dear! and he hasn't got his white collar on; and his mother isn't with him."

"Come, hold that saucy tongue of yours, White Bob," said Brownlee, in an angry tone, "or it will be worse for you."

The boy's proper name was Bob White. He was a tall, thin, singular-looking lad, about fifteen years old, with a pale face. When he first went to work in the mine some of the boys called him White Bob, in nonsense, and the name had stuck to him.

He was certainly silent after Brownlee spoke to him, but he kept throwing back his head, lifting up his hands, turning up his eyes, and expressing his mock astonishment in so many odd ways, that the rest of the boys, although they bore no ill-will to Charlie, were convulsed with laughter. As for Charlie himself, he was in a great pa.s.sion; it was fortunate that just at this moment the cage reached the bottom, and in the general scramble to get out he lost sight of Bob.

"Now, my boy, keep close to me," said Brownlee, "never mind those fellows: keep your temper, and they'll soon tire of it. Now look about you; you are many hundred feet under ground." It was a strange scene to Charlie. Look where you would, nothing but black met the eye--black walls, black floor, groups of black men standing about--every one and every thing was covered with the bright coal dust that glittered and sparkled in the rays of the lamps, like black diamonds.

"Now," said Brownlee, "we must get to work. I'll take you to your place, as it is in my way;" and they turned up a sort of road or gallery that had been cut out of the slate and coal. On each side of this branched, right and left, other roads or galleries that had been formed by the taking away of the coal; from these again branched other roads, and so on, that you might walk for miles under ground, in and out of the workings of the mine. As the coal is hewn away the roof is supported by props of wood. In some places it was so low that Brownlee had to walk stooping. Of course Charlie did not find all this out at first, for they only had the light given by their lamps to guide them and relieve the intense darkness.

"What is that?" asked Charlie, as a little spark of light like a glowworm appeared in the distance, and a low rumbling noise met their ears.

"You'll see in a minute," said Brownlee, smiling at Charlie's wonder.