"Why, father," answered Frank, timidly, "you know they have prayers at Mr. Lloyd's every morning, and I thought perhaps you wouldn't mind our having them, too."

Mr. Bowser scanned his son's face with a hard searching gaze, but Frank looked back at him with so much love and respect in his clear, brown eyes, that all suspicion was banished from his mind, and his heart melted not a little.

"Who's going to have the prayers? You don't expect me to, do you?" he asked, gruffly.

"Well, father, if you don't care to, I'll try, if you've no objection,"

replied Frank, modestly.

Mr. Bowser was silent for a moment. He had noted a change in Frank of late, and had been impressed by the increased interest he took in church and Sunday school as proven by the regularity and punctuality of his going off to the services. Had Frank become a Christian like Mr. Lloyd?

He would not be sorry if he had, although it was rather a pity that he had not waited until he had had his fling first, sowed a few wild oats, seen something of the world, and then settled down. Here was a good chance to find out. So with some relaxing of his gruffness, Mr. Bowser said:

"All right, my boy. I've no objections so long as you're not too long-winded. Go ahead."

Thus encouraged, Frank, with beating heart and trembling lips, proceeded to read one of the Psalms; and then, kneeling down, offered up a simple, fervent, faith-filled prayer.

Mr. Bowser did not kneel. He sat st.u.r.dily upright in his chair, looking straight before him. But he could not prevent strange emotions awaking within him as he heard his boy, whom he was still inclined to look upon as hardly more than a child, though he was now sixteen years of age, address himself in reverent, earnest tones to the Great Being that he had so utterly neglected himself.

When Frank had finished, his father rose and left the room without saying a word. That evening Frank took tea with Bert, and they went to church together. Shortly after the service began Bert happened to glance about the church, and his eye fell upon somebody that caused him to give a little start of surprise, and then nudge Frank violently. On Frank's turning round to see what Bert meant, he too started, and an expression of joy that was beautiful to witness came over his countenance, for there, in a pew not far behind him, and evidently trying hard to look entirely at his ease, sat Mr. Bowser, this being his first appearance in church for many long years.

Dr. Chrystal preached one of his very best sermons that night, and all the time he was speaking Frank was praying that his earnest words might go straight home to his father's heart. That was the beginning of the good work. Thenceforward every Sunday evening found Mr. Bowser an attentive listener; and Frank, continuing the morning prayers faithfully, was surprised and delighted when one day his father brought home the finest family Bible he could find in the city, and handing it to him, said, in his kindest manner:

"Here, my boy, if we're going to have family prayers, we may just as well do it in proper style."

Frank joyfully reported all this to the Lloyds, who rejoiced with him over the prospect there was of his prayers for his father being fully answered ere long, and Mr. Lloyd was therefore not at all surprised when one evening Mr. Bowser called, and in an agitated, confused way begged the favour of an interview with him in the privacy of his study.

It was as Mr. Lloyd antic.i.p.ated. Frank's simple, but sincere efforts at home missionary work had been crowned with success. His father's hard, worldly nature had been stirred to its depths. A longing the world could not appease had been awakened within him, and he had come to Mr. Lloyd as one in whom he placed implicit confidence, that he might guide him toward the light. The conversation, which Mr. Bowser found wonderfully helpful to him in his bewildered, anxious state of mind, was followed by many others, and the result was made evident when, ere that year closed, Mr. Bowser publicly united himself with the Church; and there were few who were familiar with the circ.u.mstances that could restrain a tear of sympathetic joy when Dr. Chrystal made the event the occasion for a beautiful and inspiring sermon upon the place of the young in the vineyard of the Lord.

CHAPTER x.x.xI.

NOT DEAD, BUT TRANSLATED.

Mr. Bowser was not a man to do anything by halves. When he was worldly, he was worldly out and out, and now that he had broken with the world and entered into the service of G.o.d, he took up the business of religion with a thoroughness and ardour that was entirely characteristic. He found himself wofully ignorant of the simplest Scripture truths. Until his conversion, he had not opened his Bible since he left his mother's care. He, therefore, determined to become a scholar. So one Sat.u.r.day he asked Frank:

"Frank, what is it you do at Sunday school?"

"Well, father, we sing, and pray, and study the Bible, that's about all," answered Frank, wondering to himself what his father had in mind.

"Do any grown-up people go there, Frank?" inquired Mr. Bowser, innocently.

Frank smiled, partly at his father's lack of knowledge, and partly because he thought he caught a glimpse of his purpose.

"Why, of course, father," he exclaimed, "lots of them. Mr. Lloyd goes there, and Mr. Silver, and ten or twelve other gentlemen."

"Does Mr. Lloyd go to Sunday school?" asked Mr. Bowser, eagerly. "Why, what does he do there?"

"He teaches, father. He has charge of the men's Bible cla.s.s."

"So Mr. Lloyd has a Bible cla.s.s there," mused Mr. Bowser aloud; then, turning again to Frank, "Do you think, Frank, he would mind if I joined it."

Frank could not help smiling at the idea of Mr. Lloyd being otherwise than glad at having a new member in his cla.s.s.

"Indeed, he won't. On the contrary, he'll be mighty glad, I'm sure," he answered, warmly.

"Very well, then, Frank, I'll go with you to Sunday school to-morrow. I don't know anything about the Bible, and I think there's no better place for me to learn," said Mr. Bowser, as he went off, leaving Frank so happy at the prospect of having his father go to school with him that he could hardly contain himself.

Very deep was Mr. Lloyd's pleasure when on Sunday afternoon burly Mr.

Bowser walked into his cla.s.s room and took his seat in the most remote corner. He went up to him at once, and gave him a cordial greeting.

"I've come as a learner, Mr. Lloyd," said Mr. Bowser. "I know little or nothing about the Bible, and I want you to teach me."

"I am sure I shall be most happy to do anything that lies in my power, Mr. Bowser," responded Mr. Lloyd, heartily, "and there are others in the cla.s.s that you will find will help you also."

And so Mr. Bowser, putting aside all foolish notions about pride or self-importance, became one of the most faithful and attentive attendants of the Bible cla.s.s. Rain or shine, the whole year round, his chair was rarely vacant, until Mr. Lloyd came to look upon him as his model member, and to feel somewhat lost, if for any reason he was compelled to be absent.

But Mr. Lloyd was not his only guide and instructor. Dr. Chrystal had attracted him from the very first. The sermon he preached on that eventful Sunday evening, when, yielding to an impulse which seemed to him little better than curiosity, he had attended church for the first time in so many years, had been followed by others, each one of which met some need or answered some question springing up in Mr. Bowser's heart, and his admiration and affection for the eloquent preacher had increased with a steady growth.

In truth, Dr. Chrystal was a man of no common mould. He united in himself characteristics that might seem to have belonged to widely different natures. He was deeply spiritual, yet intensely alive to the spirit of the times. He was as thoroughly conversant with modern thought as he was with the history of G.o.d's ancient people. Although a profound student, he was anything but a Dr. Dry-as-Dust. On the contrary, the very children heard him gladly because he never forgot them in his sermons. There was always something for them as well as for the older folks. Indeed, perhaps one of the best proofs of his singular fitness for his work was the way the young people loved him. Boys like Bert and Frank, for instance, probably the hardest cla.s.s in the congregation for the minister to secure to himself, while they never for a moment felt tempted to take any liberties with him, yet, on the other hand, never felt ill at ease in his presence, nor sought to avoid him.

He made them feel at home with him, and the consequence was that the proportion of boys belonging to his church exceeded that of any other church in the city.

Dr. Chrystal had of late been causing his friends no small concern by showing signs of failing health. His heart began to give him trouble. So much so, indeed, that now and then he would be obliged to pause in the midst of his sermon, and rest a little before resuming. His physician told him he had been working too hard, and that what he needed was to take things more easily, or, better still, to lay aside his work for a season, and recuperate by a good long vacation.

At first he would not listen to any such proposition. There seemed so much to be done all around him that would be undoubtedly left undone unless he did it himself, that he felt as if he could not desert his post. But it soon became clear to him that the warnings he had received must be heeded, and ere long he was able to make up his mind to follow the physician's advice, and indulge himself with an ocean voyage, and prolonged vacation in Europe.

As the time for his temporary separation from his congregation drew near there was a marked increase of fervour and loving earnestness on the part of Dr. Chrystal toward his people. It was as though he thought he might perhaps never return to them, and it therefore behoved him not only to preach with special unction, but to lose no opportunity of saying to each one with whom he came in contact something that might remain with them as a fruitful recollection in the event of its proving to be his last word to them. Meeting Bert upon the street one day, he linked his arm with his, and entered at once into a conversation regarding the boy's spiritual interests. Bert felt perfectly at home with his pastor, and did not hesitate to speak with him in the same spirit of frank unreserve that he would with his father.

"I have been thinking much about you, Bert," said Dr. Chrystal, in tones of warm affection, "and saying to myself that if, in the providence of G.o.d, I should never come back to my work, I would like to leave something with you that would linger in your memory after I am gone."

"But you're coming back again all right, Dr. Chrystal," said Bert, looking up with much concern in his countenance, for he had never thought of its being otherwise.

"I am sure I hope and pray so with all my heart," replied Dr. Chrystal, fervently. "But there are many things to be considered, and G.o.d alone knows how it will be with me a few months hence. I am altogether in His hands."

"Well, G.o.d knows right well that we couldn't have a better minister than you, sir, and so there's no fear but He'll send you back to us all right," returned Bert, his eager loyalty to his pastor quite carrying him away.

Dr. Chrystal smiled sympathetically at the boy's enthusiasm.

"There are just as good fish in the sea as have ever yet been caught, Bert," he answered.

"I thoroughly appreciate your kind, and I know sincere, compliment, but it was not to talk about myself that I joined you, but about yourself. I have been thinking that it is full time you took up some definite work for your Heavenly Master. Don't you think so, too?"

"Yes, I do, sir; and so does Frank, and we're both quite willing to make a beginning, but we don't just know what to go at."

"I have been thinking about that, too, Bert, and I have an idea I want to discuss with you. You know the streets that lie between the north and south portions of our city, and how densely they are packed with people, very few of whom make any pretensions to religion at all. Now, would it not be possible for you and Frank to do a little city missionary work in those streets. The field is white unto the harvest, but the labourers are so few that it is sad to see how little is being done. What do you think about it?"

Bert did not answer at once. He knew well the locality Dr. Chrystal had in mind, and the cla.s.s of people that inhabited it. For square after square, tenement houses, tall, grimy, and repulsive, alternated with groggeries, flaunting, flashy, and reeking with iniquity. The residents were of the lowest and poorest order. Filth, vice, and poverty, held high carnival the whole year round. In the day time crowds of tattered roughs played rudely with one another in the streets, and after dark, drunken soldiers, sailors, and wharf men, made night hideous with their degraded revelry or frenzied fighting.