A Child of the Glens | Page 6

had at her finger ends whole passages of Scripture,
together with a number of psalms and hymns, from one to the other of
which she ran with a vivacity and heedlessness, that often pained her
teacher. She was soon the leader of the little choir, and could sing, with
wonderful correctness, "Shall we gather at the river?" "I think when I
read that sweet story of old, How when Jesus was here among men."
"As pants the hart for cooling streams," &c.
Robert Hendrick was deeply interested in his little pupils. Jim seemed
likely to grow up a pattern boy. Punctual and diligent, with grave,
attentive eyes and quiet demeanour, he could not but elicit the approval
of his teacher. Yet Hendrick could not conceal from himself that Elsie
was his favourite--Elsie, so reckless and so irreverent, so headstrong,

and at times even violent. He used to tremble for the child's future, as,
attracted by the sweet, true ring of her voice, he saw the eager, merry
eyes wandering all round the room, while the lips were singing the
most sacred words. Those awful and profound truths, that were to him
the only realities, and which animated his every effort, were apparently
to this sweet young singer but as fairy tales, or even as mere empty
words on which to build up the fabric of her song; and at times he even
doubted whether it was right to lay bare the mysterious agonies of
redeeming love to such a careless eye, and to familiarise such a child
with scenes so awful, but which seemed to wake no note of love or
reverence. Yet Robert Hendrick loved and prayed for the child, content
to work on for her, as for so many others in the glen, in simple faith and
loving hope.
With the approach of winter the Friday evening class had to be
discontinued. Most of the children lived at a considerable distance from
the place of meeting; nor was a walk across the moors always feasible
in rough weather. Even for a time the Wednesday service had to be
suspended; so that for a couple of months the glen relapsed into its
former state of spiritual night. Not altogether, however. The good seed
cast upon the waters had found a resting-place in several hearts; and the
opening of spring, and with it the resumption of the Scripture-reader's
visits, were eagerly looked forward to by many, both young and old.
CHAPTER IV.
It was the end of March, when an event occurred which would have
been a more than nine days' wonder even in a busier spot than Tor Bay.
The equinoctial gales had been protracted and severe. For days the sea
off Fair Head, and through the strait that separates the mainland from
Rathlin Island, had run mountains high; and now, though the surface
was smooth and glistening in the bright spring sun, the long, heavy
swell, as it broke in thundering rollers on the shore, bore witness to the
fierceness of the recent conflict. The night had been wild and dark, but
it was succeeded by one of those balmy days that are sent as harbingers
of coming summer. Elsie and Jim had been busy ever since the return
of the tide, about noon, dragging to shore the masses of sea-wrack that

the recent storms had loosened and sent adrift.
The afternoon was now far advanced, and the children were growing
weary of their work. Several heaps of brown, wet, shining weed stood
at intervals along the sands, as monuments of their zeal. They began to
look wistfully towards the hill for "father," who had promised to meet
them at the conclusion of the day's work; but again and again they had
looked in vain. It was now growing almost dusk. They had thought of
desisting from their task, when a succession of gigantic rollers, like the
fierce rear-guard of the great army that for so many hours had been
broken to pieces on the sands, was seen approaching.
With a solemn reverberation the first giant toppled over, and swept a
mass of mingled foam and sea-weed up the sands, far past where the
wet and weary little toilers were standing. Knee-deep in the rapidly
returning body of water, they strove with their rakes to arrest some
fragments of the whirling and tangled mass of weeds. But the second
giant was at hand. Checked in its advance by the retreating fragments
of its predecessors, the monster hesitated. And then the two masses of
water clashing together rose up in fierce embrace, while the foam and
spray of their contention was blown by the keen east wind into the
children's faces. But the force of the tide was spent, and the second
wave, though victorious in the wrestle, scarce survived the