ot at school again, harry?” said the teacher, willy thorn, as he seated himself in the little parlour of widow brown, and regarded with a kind but almost sad countenance the flushed face of her grandson. “you have not been with us for a month, harry, and i fear that you never go to church. i had hoped better things of you, my boy.”
“it’s all from the bad company that he gets into,” said the widow, taking off her spectacles and wiping the glasses. “he is a good lad at heart, sir; but you see as how he has no firmness—he can’t say no. harry intends to do well one hour, and forgets all[41] about it the next; but i’ll be bound you’ll see him at school and at church too, some day or other.”
“he knows not how long he may have the opportunity of doing either. remember, harry, the fate of your young companion, sam porter, hurried in one instant into eternity—not one moment given him to repent, to call on his saviour!—all his opportunities past for ever!”
harry sighed and looked down.
“well, my boy,” said thorn, more cheerfully, “if you have made good resolutions and broken them a hundred times, try again; try with faith and prayer, and god may give you the victory yet! i heard a little allegory to-day. i thought that it might interest, and perhaps benefit you; so, as it is too dark at present for reading, i will repeat it to you, if mrs. brown would like to hear it.”
“i am quite agreeable,” said the old woman, leaning back in her arm-chair.
“what is an allegory?” inquired harry.
“real truths shown in fiction. you will understand better what an allegory is when[42] you have listened to this. it is called the story of
“the vase and the dart.
“a young boy entered a beautiful garden, which extended as far as the eye could reach. through the whole length of it stretched a narrow avenue, bordered with overhanging trees. slowly the boy pursued his way along it, listening to the songs of the birds, and admiring the green foliage above him, through which, here and there, streamed the rays of the glorious sun. he quickly perceived that he was not alone; on either side, all down the long avenue, stood a line of maidens, beautiful to behold. they were all robed in white, with wreaths of fresh flowers on their heads, and greeted the boy with a bright smile of welcome. each held in her right hand a vase of gold, in her left a sharp iron dart.”
“i do not understand this allegory at all,” said harry. “did any one ever see such maidens as these?”
“these maidens,” replied thorn, “are well known to all—they are called opportunities.[43] who has not met with opportunities of doing good, opportunities of receiving good?”
the rows of maidens.
“i see, sir. pray go on.”
“as the boy approached the first maiden, she held out her vase to him, and invited him to take the contents. on the golden vase appeared the word prayer, and the sweetest, fairest fruits were heaped up within[44] it; but the boy scarcely glanced at the proffered gift. ‘it is wearisome!’ he cried; so pushed it aside and passed on.”
“opportunity for prayer!” cried old mrs. brown. “ah, sir, who can count how many times we have pushed that away from us! god forgive us!”
“the boy sauntered on,” resumed willy thorn, “and soon another fair maiden stood before him: she also held forth a vase of bright gold, full of pieces of glittering silver. on it was inscribed the word knowledge.”
“here is the opportunity of gaining learning at school,” said mrs. brown, who was an intelligent old woman, and had read a good deal in her youth.
“but the boy scarcely glanced at the proffered gift. ‘it is troublesome!’ he cried; so pushed it aside and passed on.
“a short space further on another maiden stopped him, with a bright and joyous countenance. her gold vase contained the loveliest flowers, and on it appeared written, acts of kindness to others. the boy looked at it wistfully for a moment, tempted by the sweet perfume of the beautiful blossoms.[45] opportunity smiled, but selfishness stayed the hand of the boy, half stretched out to empty the vase: he pushed it aside and passed on.
“the next maiden who greeted him was calm and fair, with a grave and earnest look. her vase was full of refined gold, and this was the motto which it bore: attendance at the house of god. a sound of church-bells came on the breeze, and the sweet music of a distant hymn; but in vain they fell on the boy’s listening ear. ‘it is dull!’ he cried; pushed the rich vase aside, and passed on.”
“but you said, sir,” observed harry, “that the maidens held darts in their left hands, as well as vases in their right. what do you mean by them?”
“you shall hear before i end my story. so the boy reached another maiden, who looked like an angel from heaven. her eyes shone like stars in the calm blue sky, and the tones of her voice thrilled deep into the heart. her vase was overflowing with sparkling jewels, brighter than those which monarchs wear. on it shone in glittering letters, the word of god.”
[46]
“oh, i hope that he put out his hand and took that!” cried the aged woman, resting hers on her bible.
“opportunity cried, ‘oh, pass me not by! search the scriptures, that can make you wise unto salvation.’ she held forth her vase with imploring look, but the boy was intent on pursuing his way. ‘i care not for it!’ he cried; so pushed it aside and passed on.”
“well, he might have the same opportunity of reading the bible again and again,” said harry.
“not the same,” replied willy thorn; “the boy could not retrace one step of his way. no moment of time can ever be recalled. every opportunity of doing good once past, whatever others may arise, that opportunity is past for ever!
“‘i shall meet with more maidens,’ said the boy. ‘i see an endless number before me; doubtless they carry vases as precious as those which i have rejected.’ but even as he spoke the words, he came suddenly on a black iron gate, and he could pass on no further. shuddering, he read on the gate the solemn word, death!
[47]
“then would he gladly have turned round: then would he have earnestly asked for one more opportunity for prayer—one more opportunity of doing what is right; but the last had been passed—he had slighted the treasure of the last! nor can we despise opportunities, and not suffer for doing so; if they offer the vase, they also carry the punishment meet for those who neglect its contents. as the boy stood trembling at the gate of death, a dart came hissing through the air, and inflicted on him a burning wound: then came another and another; every opportunity despised sent its messenger of vengeance, and the wretched boy, writhing with the arrows of conscience in his soul, sank down at the gate, and perished!”
“alas!” cried harry, “where can i then find safety, for i have neglected more opportunities than i can number of doing good and receiving good?”
“ask the lord for pardon through the blood of the saviour!” exclaimed thorn. “‘now is the accepted time, now is the day of salvation;’ neglect not this[48] opportunity—it may be your last! o my young friend! no day leaves you as it found you; every day brings its opportunities of prayer, praise, reading the bible, and obeying god’s laws; every day you have chosen either the vase or the dart.”
dear reader, to you would i address a few words. if this little story has raised the thought in your heart, “how have i improved my opportunities?” oh, push it not aside and pass on! let not the day close without prayer; seize the golden prize while yet it is offered to you, or hope not to escape the dart!
