The Chimney Sweep

About two hundred and fifty years ago, boys often worked as chimney sweeps. They had to climb inside chimneys to scrape and sweep away the soot. This was hard work for these unhappy children, besides being very unhealthy for them. This is a true story about a little chimney sweep named Charles.

Charles’ parents were the Count and Countess of Belville. That meant that the King of England had made Charles’ father a ruler over a county called Belville. The Count of Belville died when Charles was only a few months old, so the Countess was left to raise this child alone. She loved him very much. Her greatest desire for Charles was that he would receive a new heart from the Lord while he was still young.

But it seemed that the more she prayed for Charles’ conversion, and the more she talked to her son about the Lord Jesus, the less interest he showed. He was disobedient and stubborn, and always tried to change the subject when his mother taught him from the Bible. He daydreamed whenever the Word of God was read to him, and paid no attention when his mother prayed aloud at mealtimes.

This made the Countess very sad and she often cried, but she did not punish Charles when he was naughty and rude. This only made him more daring in his sinful ways.

One day, the Countess was sitting in her little study, writing a few letters, when a servant entered. He waited impatiently until she looked up.

“Madam” he said nervously, “we can’t find Charles. We think he is lost. We’ve looked for him for more than an hour.”

The Countess’s face turned pale. “What? Oh, not my little Charles! Did you tell the police? Did you really look everywhere?”

Servants were sent throughout the city to try to find the little boy, and the police were notified. The Countess even had some papers printed describing her son and offering a large reward to anyone who could help find him.

Several people came to tell the Countess that they had seen a boy that matched the description, but when the police investigated, he always turned out to be another child.

Finally, a woman came and told the Countess she had seen a little boy about five-years-old throwing stones into the river. When she had returned a short time later, the boy was gone.

The Countess was heartbroken. She knew Charles loved to go for walks to the river. She had always forbidden him to go there alone, for she was afraid he would fall in and drown. She tried to tel I herself that that was what happened, but somehow she could not believe that her dear son was dead.

Three years passed by without any news of Charles. “He would be eight today,” she thought sadly on his birthday.

The Countess looked carefully at each little boy she met, sometimes stopping them to question them eagerly. Always, she was disappointed.

He was very thin and pale, and large tears left white streaks on his dirty face.

That summer, she went to visit some friends in the country for several weeks. She had arranged for some repairs to be done to her home and she would rather be away while this was taking place. But after three weeks, her friends received a message that their daughter was very sick, and that she wanted them to be with her. They offered the Countess the use of their home while they were gone, but she decided to return to Belville.

When she arrived at her home that afternoon, the servants and some painters were hard at work in the dining room. Then she noticed a little boy leaning against the wall near the fireplace. He was very thin and pale, and large tears left white streaks on his dirty face.

“What’s the matter, little boy?” asked the Countess.

“Nothing, ma’am,” answered the boy. “We are cleaning your chimney. My master is on the roof checking if I did my job okay. He’ll be down soon.”

“But why are you crying?” persisted the Countess.

“Because… because…” The little boy tried to talk, but soon was shaking with sobs.

“Tell me what’s wrong, child,” soothed the lady.

“I’m scared my master will beat me again,” he said tearfully.

“Does he beat you often?”

“Almost every day, ma’am.”

“But what for?”

“Because I don’t make enough money.” He kept looking toward the door, afraid his master would hear him. “When I come in at night after I’ve been out all day, and nobody has asked me to clean their chimney, then he says that I’ve been playing all day. But that’s not true. It’s not my fault if nobody asks me! I call as loud as I can, and I knock at people’s doors, but nobody wants me to clean their chimney.”

“But sometimes you do get work, don’t you? And then he doesn’t beat you, does he?”

“Yes, but then he says I don’t climb fast enough, or that I don’t make them clean enough, or that I made a mess in the house. When I come down he hits me, but I’m always doing my best. Yesterday I hurt my leg, and my pants ripped.” The poor child cried as he showed the Countess his badly scraped leg. The Countess asked a servant to get a bandage for him.

“How much do you earn?” continued the Countess.

“Nothing, except he gives me my food, but it isn’t enough, really. When I go to bed I’m still hungry.”

“I think I will talk to your master about this,” she said.

“Oh no, please don’t, ma’am!” begged the little chimney sweep. “He will just beat me again when we are gone. I don’t complain to anybody, only at night to…”

“To whom?” asked the Countess eagerly.

“To God.”

“What do you say to Him?” The Countess gently cleaned and bandaged the sore leg as she spoke.

“I asked Him to take me back to my mom,” he answered, the tears filling his eyes again.

“So you have a mother,” the Countess said softly, as though to herself.

“Yes, I do. She is a very nice mother. I wish I could go to her. Then I wouldn’t be so sad.”

The little boy knelt at her

“Don’t you know where she lives?” the Countess seemed surprised.

“No. All I can remember is a big house and a nice yard with a wall around it.” He stopped and looked around him. “It was like this house — I could see lots of trees out of the windows. My mom was like you, except she didn’t wear black clothes.”

Lady Belville suddenly felt weak all over, and sat down in the nearest chair. Taking the boy by the hand, she drew him to her side, not minding at all his grimy clothes. Then she asked, “Has the Lord ever answered you, my child?”

The little boy knelt at her side., folded his hands and closed his eyes front which a few tears escaped.

In a trembling voice he said, “Lord, convert me, and change my heart. Teach me to love Thee and to love others as Jesus has said. Amen.”

“Not that prayer, but I am sure He will hear me one day.”

“Why are you so sure?”

“Because He has said so in His Word.”

“So you believe that God hears prayer?”

“Yes, ma’am. He has already heard some of my prayers. I prayed that I could learn to read, and that I could have a Bible. A nice man gave me a New Testament one day, and he taught me how to read a little. Sometimes I feel so happy when I pray.”

“You feel happy? What do you say in your prayers then?”

“I say the prayer that my mommy taught me by heart.”

“And what was that prayer? Say it for me.” Lady Belville’s heart was pounding.

The little boy knelt at her side, folded his hands and closed his eyes from which a few tears escaped. In a trembling voice he said, “Lord, convert me, and change my heart. Teach me to love Thee and to love others as Jesus has said. Amen.”

“My child!” cried the Countess, hugging him close. “You are my son!”

Charles looked at her with an expression of bewilderment on his tear-stained face.

“I am your mother,” she said, sobbing aloud. Then she knelt down beside her son and exclaimed from the fulness of her heart, “Oh Lord, forgive me for having offended Thee by my unbelief, and for doubting Thy promise. I have been so impatient. I have prayed so often for his conversion, but I was so unwilling to wait, and yet Thou hast heard me.”

At this moment Charles’ master entered the room, and was very much amazed at seeing the little chimney sweep and the lady both on their knees. The Countess asked him to explain how he had gotten Charles in his possession.

The man told her. “A man came to me one day and said he was the boy’s father. He’d give him to me if I paid him a hundred dollars. The last I heard of him was that he was very sick. Perhaps he’s dead now, I don’t know.”

When Lady Belville explained that Charles was her son, the master seemed suddenly in a hurry to leave, realizing he could be imprisoned or fined for such an offense. The Countess got the address of the man who had sold Charles, and that same evening, she went to see him.

The man was very rude, and cursed loudly when she asked him to tell her how he had found Charles. At first he pretended to know nothing about it, but when the Countess kept questioning him, he told her little bits at a time. He admitted that he had kidnapped Charles, who had jumped over the garden wall. He then sold him to the man Charles was working for. The man was afraid that the Countess would inform the police, but she was so happy to have her son back that she told him she forgave him. She left a little tract for him to read, and returned home with a song in her heart.

Every year since then, the Countess celebrated this happy day in an unusual way. The servants found as many chimney sweeps as they could, washed them, gave them new clothes, and brought them into the dining room. There they were served a delicious meal. Afterwards, Lady Belville told the remarkable story of her lost son. She told these children how the Lord had answered her prayers and Charles’ prayers in such a wonderful way.

The Countess tried her best to find better jobs for the older boys, and good homes for the younger ones. Many times these boys would come to thank her for her kindness to them, and sometimes they could also tell her what the Lord had done in their hearts.

— From Building on the Rock

(available soon)

He Maketh No Mistake

My Father’s way may twist and turn,
My heart may throb and ache,
But in my soul I’m glad I know,
He maketh no mistake.

My cherished plans may go astray,
My hopes may fade away,
But still I’ll trust my Lord to lead
For He doth know the way.

Tho’ night be dark and it may seem
That day will never break;
I’ll pin my faith, my all in Him, He maketh no mistake.

There’s so much now I cannot see,
My eyesight’s far too dim; But come what may, I’ll simply trust
And leave it all to Him.

For by and by the mist will lift And plain it all He’ll make.
Through all the way, tho’ dark to me, He made not one mistake.

—A.M.Overton

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