Charlie Scott by Unknown (rm book recommendations TXT) 📕

OUR years of Charlie's life soon passed swiftly away in his pleasant and happy home. He is now twelve years of age, and has grown a tall, strong, healthy boy. His blue eyes are just as merry, and his frank, fearless face as sunburnt, as when we first made his acquaintance on the pier. He is generous, grateful, and affectionate, and John Heedman and his wife—his good "father and mother," as he calls them now—are very dear to him.

I need scarcely tell you that they have never regretted adopting him, and could not love him better, or be more proud of him, if he were their own son. They have found him from the first clever at his learning, and painstaking; full of gratitude and love to themselves; honest and truthful; anxious to serve God, and really trying to do so in his way. But one thing has troubled them: for the last two years they have seen him gradually giving himself up more and more to the dangerous habit of "putting off." He had become, unconsciously, a very slave to it; it required quite an effort on his part to do any duty at once.

Perhaps some boys who read this are inclined to exclaim, "Was that all?" But if they think for a moment, I am sure they will see that it is very dangerous, because they are inclined to think lightly of it.

Procrastination, or the habit of "putting off," is one of Satan's great temptations. Many a boy may be tempted to give way to it who would shrink from telling an untruth, or committing any flagrant sin; but Satan knows well enough how soon and how surely it will lead them into sin.

Unfortunately, Charlie had no idea how this habit was creeping upon him; he always contrived to find some excuse for putting off that satisfied himself if it did not satisfy others; and when it led him to do wrong, or into misfortune of any kind, he always fancied that something or some one else was to blame.

"Charlie," said Mrs. Heedman one morning, just before school-time, "did you learn your lessons last night?"

"No, mother," answered Charlie; "I can learn them this morning; there's time enough."

"Do get your books then, and begin; you have only a quarter of an hour."

"All right, mother dear," he answered, gaily; "I'll get them in a minute; there's time enough;" but Charlie was very much interested in teaching his dog Jumper to sit up, and kept putting off until at last the quarter of an hour was gone, and he found he had only just time to get to school. Grumbling at the time for flying so quickly, he snatched up one of his school books, threw his satchel with the rest over his shoulder, and started off at a quick pace, learning his lesson as he went. Of course he could not always look where he was going, and the consequence was he knocked up against people, and trod on their toes, and so far from apologizing in his ill-humour, he declared to himself that "it served them right; why didn't they get out of his way?"

The clock struck nine: Charlie was desperate; he quickened his pace almost to a run, and taking a last glance at his lesson as he turned the corner, he came with a crash against a lamp-post, that sent him backwards, his book flying out of his hand, his forehead bruised, and his nose bleeding.

Poor Charlie sat on the ground almost stunned, and scarcely knowing for the moment what it was, or where he was. At last he got slowly up, gathered his books together, and turned towards home, holding his handkerchief to his bruised face, and feeling very miserable.

"It was all that stupid old lamp-post, mother!" he said angrily, when he was telling his tale to her.

"No, no, Charlie," said Mrs. Heedman; "was it not that stupid Charlie Scott, who did not look where he was going?"

It was no use going to school that morning. The bruises were doctored, and Charlie, after learning his lessons, took up an interesting book. He was fond of reading, and was soon deep in the contents.

"Just run into Mrs. Brown's, next door, Charlie, will you, and ask if she can let me have the bread tin I lent her yesterday," said Mrs. Heedman.

"Yes, mother, in a minute," answered Charlie, still reading on, and thinking, "There's time enough; I dare say the bread is not ready." After a short time she spoke again, "Come, Charlie, I'm waiting."

"Yes, mother, I'm coming," said Charlie, getting half off his chair, but still keeping his eyes on the book. "I'll just finish this chapter," he thought; there were only two sentences to read. When it was finished, he looked up, and saw his mother had gone herself for the tin. She came in, looking weary and tired, for she had had a busy morning, and Charlie's conscience smote him.

"Oh, mother, I'm so sorry," he exclaimed. "I thought I had time enough to finish the chapter."

"Charlie, I do wish you would learn to do a thing at once. I cannot bear to hear you so constantly saying 'There's time enough,'" said his mother; "it makes me tremble for your future. A cousin of mine was led into sin, and misery, and poverty, and at last died at enmity with his father, and unreconciled to God, through 'putting off.' He gave way to the habit when he was a boy, and it grew up with him unchecked."

Charlie was rather frightened at hearing this, and inwardly made some good resolutions; but as they were made in his own strength alone, you will not be surprised to hear they were soon swept away: however, he made, as he thought, a very fair beginning. When he was called to dinner, he laid down his book and went at once—I am afraid there was not much credit due to him for that, for he was very hungry,—and he got ready and set off in good time for afternoon school.

"Be sure you come straight home, Charlie," said Mrs. Heedman as he was going out; "your father's cough was worse this morning, and I want you to run along to the pit with some warm wrappings for him; the evenings are chilly now, and he feels the cold when he comes up."

"All right, mother dear, I'll not forget," said Charlie, waving his cap to her as he went out of the gate. He was in an extra good humour with himself for having made the good resolutions we told you of, and for having done so well since, quite forgetting that even the desire to do better came from God.

The moment school was over, one of the boys caught hold of Charlie's arm, and launched into a glowing description of a ship "nearly two feet long," that had been made a present to him, finishing off with "She's splendid, and that's just all about it. I am going now to name her, and launch her in that big pond in Thompson's field. Come along," he said, drawing Charlie in the direction of the field as he spoke; "you shall give her the name, and I'll launch her."

"I'm afraid I can't go," said Charlie, looking miserable, and making a faint effort to get his arm from Tom Brown's grasp.

"Why?" asked Tom.

"Because I promised to go straight home; and I have to take some clothes for father to the pit."

"Oh, that's it, is it?" exclaimed Tom. "Well, then, look here, your father won't be ready for nearly half an hour yet—I know what time they come up,—and you'll be wandering about there, cooling your heels, when you might as well be here."

"If I hadn't promised," thought Charlie, with a longing look in the direction of the pond.

"You needn't stay long," urged Tom. "The ship is close by; I hid her amongst some bushes so as not to have to go home again."

"Don't go; remember your promise," whispered Charlie's conscience. "But I want to go so much," answered Charlie's selfish little heart.

"Don't go, it would be ungrateful: think of your