Kindness to Animals by Charlotte Elizabeth (classic books for 10 year olds .txt) 📕

did not know that the world is round; he thought it was flat: still less did he then understand that God is everywhere, and made all things, above and beneath. Then I told him that the Lord did so; and that worms and other things were put into the earth by him, even as we were made to walk upon its surface. Jack considered a little; and then said the worms were rolled up in the world as apples were in a dumpling, and that they eat their way through the crust. It was an odd idea, and made me smile; on which he said, "Good," and told me he would fish with a piece of meat or bread for a bait.

[Illustration: THE TADPOLE OR YOUNG FROG.]

Next morning, Jack came to me, and after reminding me of this, he asked me if God also made the little newts, tadpoles, and frogs, and other things that he had seen in the muddy ditches? I replied, "Yes, all." "Did God make fishes?" "Oh yes," I answered, "he made fishes and every thing." Then, in a very lively manner, he made me understand, that if God did not like to have him hurt the worms, neither would he like to have him hurt the fish. "Poor fish!" he said, showing me how its mouth would be torn by the hook; and then, to my surprise, he got a small hatchet, and chopped up his fine fishing-rod into walking-sticks; and from that day he could never bear to see anybody angling. He used to tell him, if they wanted to fish to eat or sell, to catch them with a net, and to kill them at once; and I believe that the sight of the deaf and dumb boy, taking such pains to plead for the creatures which are not only dumb, but have no way of pleading for themselves, was the means of checking many persons in cruel practices. He knew very little compared with what you, perhaps, know; but he knew one blessed truth--he knew that "God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life;" and by always thinking on this great mercy of God to man, and the exceeding love of our Lord Jesus Christ, in dying for poor sinners like us, Jack came to hate whatever he knew to be displeasing to that gracious Lord and heavenly Father; and the happiness that he felt in his own soul made him delight in seeking the happiness of every creature around him.

Jack died of a slow decline. He had much pain, but I never saw him look impatient or unhappy. He felt what David so beautifully describes in the twenty-third Psalm: "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me." He knew quite well that he was going to die; but it never made him uneasy. He knew that God was at peace with him, through the merits of the Redeemer; and he was at peace with all the world. His dying pillow was not made a pillow of thorns by the remembrance of having made any living thing suffer torment; nor were his short sleeps disturbed by terrible dreams of what he had forgotten until the time drew near to appear before God. I could tell fearful stories of some who died as young as Jack, and whose death-beds can never be forgotten by those who saw them. They had been cruel to God's dumb creatures, and never gave a thought to what they had done; but when death was near, when the poor weak body could not rise from the bed, nor the soul be any longer deceived with the thought of years to come, it was horrible to hear the cries they uttered, and the wild things that they said about beasts, and birds, and insects tortured by them in the days of their health and strength. There was one in particular, a butcher's boy, who could not be comforted: he said, the calves, the sheep, and the lambs, had provoked him by their unwillingness to be caught and driven into the slaughter-yard, and he had revenged himself by making their deaths as painful as he could; and that he saw them then--whether his eyes were open or shut, he always saw them--all bleeding, and torn, and struggling, as they used to do: and whatever was said to him, or whatever noise was made, he heard their cries of agony louder than all. When he was told that God was merciful, he answered, "Yes; but I had no mercy, and there is no mercy for me." I wish I could tell you that he died praying for pardon; but, alas! he died shrieking out that he must go to hell. At that time, I was asked to write a book about it, to warn others; but I was so much shocked that I could not write about it. I mention it now, to show you that sometimes, even in this world, the dreadful work of judgment is begun--judgment without mercy, to those who show no mercy.

But you must not suppose that Jack's happiness and peace, and confidence in God, came from any thing that he had done, or any thing that he had refrained from doing. No, it was all from believing with his whole heart that God loved him for the sake of his dear son, the Lord Jesus Christ. Now, if Jack has said, or fancied, that he loved God, and had at the same time been cruel, or lived in any other sin, it would have proved that he was mistaken, and he would have had no real peace. If you pass by a garden and see clusters of fine ripe grapes hanging from the boughs of a tree, and anybody should say to you, "That's a fine vine," you would agree with him at once; but if he pointed to a tree where horse-chestnuts were growing, and called it a vine, you would laugh at him; you know the difference between a sweet juicy grape, and a hard, bitter, uneatable horse-chestnut. Yet you would not say that the grapes made the vine, would you? No, they did not make it a vine, but they proved it to be one. If a boy were to tie bunches of grapes to a horse-chestnut tree, and tell you it was a vine, you would say no, it is not a real vine--the fruit did not grow upon it.

In this way, I may say that I knew Jack to be a true child of God: because the fruit of good works grew upon him. It was not in look only, but really and indeed, that he was the character I have described; and if you read carefully, very carefully, the fifteenth chapter of St. John's Gospel, you will see what I mean. In that beautiful chapter, our Lord Jesus Christ compares himself to a vine, his people to the branches, and the good works that they do to the grapes; and he shows us that if we do not really belong to him, and keep close to him, (which we can only do by believing and praying,) then we are like the branches cut off from the vine, which cannot possibly bring forth any grapes. You may think little of this now; but you must think of it, whether you will or no, when you come to die. Perhaps you say to yourself, "Ay, but when I come to die, I will pray, and make my peace with God." Do not deceive yourself with such a vain hope: there is a very terrible warning given in the first chapter of Proverbs, which you must not forget. The Lord is addressing such as mean to put off repenting and praying, and serving him, to another time, when sickness or some other calamity shall frighten them into calling on him for pardon and help. These are the words: "Because I have called, and ye refused; I have stretched out my hand, and no man regarded; but ye have set at nought all my counsel, and would none of my reproof; I also will laugh at your calamity; I will mock when your fear cometh, when your fear cometh as desolation, and your destruction cometh as a whirlwind; when distress and anguish cometh upon you. Then shall they call upon me, but I will not answer; they shall seek me early, but they shall not find me: for that they hate knowledge, and did not choose the fear of the Lord: they would none of my counsel: they despised all my reproof." Does not this alarm you? Then do not be found a day longer among those who refuse to hear the gracious voice of the Lord Jesus, who invites you to come to him for eternal life; and who will, if you ask it in his name, send the Holy Spirit to guide you in the good way, and make you real branches of the good Vine, as he made the dumb boy. When Jack was eleven years old, he became a true servant of the Lord; and he died at nineteen, and went to live in heaven with the blessed Master whom he had delighted to serve upon earth.

His religion made him so happy, there was not a merrier boy to be found. Some people will tell you that being religious makes a boy feel dull and melancholy. Ask them if they think you so silly as to believe that walking in the summer sunshine will make you feel dark and cold? True religion is to man what the bright sunshine is to the little insects that sport upon the wing, and who find in it not only their light but their life.

[Illustration: THE WOOLLY BEAR CATERPILLAR.]

Does any boy's conscience smite him at my naming the insects? I hope not. I hope you have not been tempted by Satan to do any harm to the little harmless, and often useful, creatures that cross your path. A butterfly, a cockchaffer, a house-fly, a snail, a caterpillar, a worm--these, and all others, are God's handy-work; and if you could see them through a glass that magnifies very much indeed, you would be more astonished than I can tell you. The small powder, scarcely seen on your finger's end, from the wing of a butterfly, is a lump of the most beautiful feathers, so delicate that the gentlest touch will rub some of them off: the wing itself is made of lovely net-work, like silver threads, stretched on strong wires; and all the skill of all the most skilful men in the world could make nothing to equal the coarsest part of the plainest insect. But it is not their beauty--though we ought to see and to glorify the Creator's hand in that--it is their delicate sense of feeling that should keep us from hurting them. The common worm is very useful in dividing the clods of earth, which would otherwise become so hard as to prevent the fine fibres of the roots of plants from forcing their way, and then the plants would die. Man has not discovered all the uses of the different insects; but God has made nothing in vain: and though, for our own safety and comfort, we must destroy some sorts, still we are bound to do it in the quickest and most complete manner, or else we must give an account to their Creator and ours for the cruelty we commit. I have killed insects myself, for no reason but because I saw that they must fall into the hands of boys, or others, whom I knew to be so dreadfully wicked as to take pleasure in torturing them; but I did it sorrowfully; feeling that I could not give