Southern Christian Advocate

Sunday Schools.
The Widow and Her Shipwrecked Son.

In the North of England, in a small inland village, a lieutenant of the British Navy, after serving his country for many years, took up his abode. He had a pious wife, and six or seven children. She sent them to the village Sabbath school; but the eldest, a boy of fourteen years, seemed determined to profit by neither maternal love, nor pious instructions at school. He played and mingled with a class of wicked idlers that infested the village, and would have been bad as the worst of them, but for his father's rigid discipline. That, alone, restrained him from rushing into excesses of wickedness and riot. But that father died, and left his widow to combat the idleness of her boy alone. No, not alone; for she sought the help of her heavenly Husband.
The father being dead, the son grew worse. He was ungovernable; and the afflicted widow wept, as with a broken heart, over her recreant child. Unable to restrain him, she adopted a very common mode in England of disposing of idle lads. She resolved to send him to sea. It was a painful alternative: but he could not grow worse there, she thought, and possibly, the severe discipline of a ship might humble his proud spirit, and lead him to reflection.
A ship was obtained for him. The bustle of preparation began and was over. Unknown to the youth, the mother placed a Bible in his chest, with the secret hope that its light might lead him to his heavenly Father, when he should be far off on the deep, blue sea. Many were the prayers that mother offered for her son; many the counsels she gave him from the fullness of her heart. The day of separation came. O it was a day of trial to all but to him who was the occasion of all the sadness of that family. Warm were the tears she shed, as, pressing him to her bosom, she bade him adieu, and commended his wayward heart to God.
Many years had passed, and the wanderer had not returned. The ship had perished at sea, and the widow mourned her son as dead; and what was worse, she trembled for the safety of his undying soul. Could she have been assured of his safety in the better world, her pained heart would have been at rest. But she wept over him as doubly lost.
It was a stormy night in mid winter. The wind howled, the rain poured down in torrents and deep darkness obscured the sky. The widow and her children sat beside the cheerful fire, and a chastened cheerfulness overspread the circle, though now and then a cloud of melancholy gathered over the mother's brow, as the driving storm reminded her of her lost son, when a slight tap was heard at the door. It was opened. A sailor stood there, way-worn and weather-beaten. He begged a shelter from the storm. It was not in that mother's heart to refuse a sailor on such a night, and she offered him her fire-side and her food.
When he had refreshed himself, she modestly questioned him of his condition. His tale was soon told. He had been shipwrecked, and was going home poor and penniless to his mother. He had been shipwrecked before. The widow asked him to tell the story of his sufferings.
He said that in a violent gale the ship ran ashore and went to pieces. The crew were either drowned or dashed to death upon the rocks. Himself and another were the only persons who reached the shore. They were thrown high upon the beach by a powerful wave. His companion was senseless at first, but at last revived--alas! but to die. "He was a sweet youth," the sailor observed: "once he had been the terror of the ship, for his excessive devotion to vice. But suddenly he had changed. Why, no one knew; but he had changed. He became a serious, praying man; as remarkable for piety now as for vice before. When he revived a little on the beach," said the sailor, "he pulled a Bible from his bosom, and pressed it to his lips. It was this blessed book, he told me, that led him to change his way of life. Rummaging his chest one day, he found a Bible: his first impression was to throw it away, but chancing to see his mother's writing, he paused to examine it. It was his name. It made him think of his mother; of her instructions and the instructions of his Sabbath school teacher. He read a few verses, and was struck with the declaration that all had sinned, and felt he was a sinner. Overwhelmed he sunk upon his knees beside his chest, and wept and prayed, and vowed to change his way of life. And he did change it: for he became a decided Christian. After telling me about this change," continued the sailor, "he gave me his Bible, and bade me keep it for his sake: and then falling back upon the sand, he expired with a half-offered prayer upon his lips."
As the sailor concluded, the widow, who had listened with deep interest and feeling inquired, "Have you got that Bible, my friend?"
"Yes, madam" said he: and he took from his bosom what appeared to be a bunch of old canvass. Carefully removing several envelopes, he at last produced a small pocket Bible, and gave it into the hands of the lady.
Tremblingly and hastily she seized it. She turned to the blank page, when lo! her child's name, in her own writing. A death-like paleness overspread her usually pale cheek, as she made the discovery, and exclaimed, " 'Tis his! 'tis his! My son! my son?"
Nature could bear no more, and she fainted.
Here, then, we see the idle Sunday scholar, at sea, away from the means of grace, suddenly profiting by the instruction of years long past. His soul felt the inspiring leaven a teacher had placed within it, and grew fit for paradise, when the teacher mourned his labor lost. How encouraging! How cheering! Labor on, dear teacher, in hope. Parents, despise not Sabbath school instruction, for your child may in like manner be saved.--S. School Messenger.