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FAULT FINDING—­THE ANTIDOTE.

(Continued from page 162.)

At length it was time to choose his path in life, and being inclined to mercantile pursuits, his father placed him in the store of one of their friends, where he would have every facility for acquiring a thorough knowledge of business.  Oh, how carefully did his mother watch the effect of a closer contact with the world, and a more prolonged absence from her hallowed influence—­and how gratefully did she perceive that her precious boy still came to her with the confiding love of his childhood, in all the temptations of his business life, and that her influence was still potent with him for good.

“Mother, I was terribly urged to go to the theater last week,” said he in one of his frequent visits at home.  “Harvey and Brown were going, and they are pretty steady fellows, and I really was half inclined to go.”

“Well, what saved you?”

“Oh, I knew just how you would look, mother, dear, and I would rather never see a theater than face that grieved look of yours.  Mother, the thought of you has saved me from many, many temptations to do wrong, and if I am good for anything, when I am a man, I must thank God for my mother.”

“Thank God for his preserving grace, my dearest Charley, and ask him to give you more and more of it.”

Not many days after, Mrs. Arnold was in company with her son’s employer.  “Your son promises well, Mrs. Arnold,” said he, “he is very accurate, obliging, respectful.  I am somewhat hasty at times, and a few days since blamed him severely for something which I thought he had done wrong.  He showed no ill-temper, but received it with so much meekness, my heart smote me.  The next day he asked me very respectfully if I would inquire of one of the clerks about it, which I did, and found he had done nothing blameworthy in the least.  He is a fine boy, madam, a very fine boy, and I hope will make as good a man as his father.”

But a good man Charley was not destined to be.  Her reward was nearer than she had thought, and he who had learned of the lowly Saviour to be meek and lowly of heart, was soon to be transplanted to dwell with loving and holy ones above.  One day he returned home unexpectedly, and the first glance told his mother he was in trouble.  “Mother, I feel really sick.  I was sick yesterday, but I kept in the store; but to-day I could only go down and see Mr. Barker, and tell him I must come home for a day or two.  Oh, mother it is a comfort to see your dear kind face again,” said he, as she felt his pulse, examined his tongue, and inquired how he felt, “and perhaps if I can rest quietly an hour or two this dreadful pain in my head will be relieved.”

He went to his pleasant chamber, to his quiet bed, the physician was summoned, and all that skill and the tenderest care could do was done, but he rapidly drew near the grave.  He was patient, gentle, grateful, beautiful upon that bed of death, and while his mother’s soul was poured forth in earnest prayer, for his continued life, her heart swelled with grateful thanksgiving for the sweet evidence he gave of a subdued and Christian spirit, and she could say with true and cheerful submission, “Not my will but Thine be done, whether for life or death, for it is well with the child.”